14. Azzie
Fourteen
Azzie
Spending forty-eight hours trying to vanish into the woodwork of the hostel I was staying in, while hiding my hair and face under a hat, didn’t make the last two days the longest of my life, but I could’ve stood for them to go by faster.
I hadn’t heard from Davyn.
Enid got confirmation from a contact of hers who dealt in gossip that I was the intended target, and the explosion was the only thing that saved me from being taken out by a sniper.
That didn’t make any sense. Davyn was the only person I knew who would go to extreme measures for me, and he wasn’t a blow things up kind of guy. He was more of a take a bullet for you kind of guy, and I was grateful he hadn’t been around to make that decision.
He knew though that I the idea of other people suffering to save me made me ill. Whoever made that decision on my behalf, they were wrong.
Every time I left my bunk, someone was talking about the news out of Salt Lake. How many people were injured. How one girl’s brother was there, and she couldn’t get a hold of him, and this morning, that there had been another round of gunfire in a nearby hotel. That the FBI and Homeland Security were both involved.
Why was there still gunfire if I was gone? Did the new attack have anything to do with me or was it a coincidence?
The faded flowers—across from me, next to me, behind me—seemed to come out of the wallpaper and press in. The room was smaller than when I arrived. The bunk above mine was nearer to my head, and the second set of bunk beds across the room had moved closer.
I needed to go back to the mess I caused. Or run farther away. To fight or fuck or do something .
My phone buzzed.
Davyn?
No. Enid’s name was on the screen. Did I want to talk to her? I couldn’t take more bad news, but I couldn’t ignore her. Answering was taking action. “Hey.”
“Hey. How are you holding up?”
My laugh came out more manically than I intended. “Oh, you know.” I hoped she did, because I didn’t want to put these thoughts into words.
“I’m sorry.”
Yeah, well… “What’s up?” Did you hear from Davyn?
“I found you a blacksmith.” The lilt in her voice sounded like that’s good, isn’t it ?
It wasn’t Number One on my list of things I wanted to hear, but it was pretty close to the top. I blanketed my disappointment about Davyn. “Cool. Can they see me? Will someone introduce me? How do I get in?” There was always a rule. A codeword. A phrase.
A price.
Enid’s silence made unease crawl over me.
“This is going to sound weird, but I promise I verified it through multiple sources,” she finally said.
“Okay?”
“There’s a diner in Shamrock Lakes, Indiana. One of those that look kind of like an old train car. You head there early in the afternoon, ask for him.”
I waited for her to give me the rest of the details. There was silence. What was I missing? “Do I need a special phrase? To go on a certain day? What do I bring in return?”
“It’s my understanding that any day works. You pay in cash. If you were to go now, you’d probably find him.”
That wasn’t right. “And he works on enchanted blades.”
“Forges metal with magic. Any metal. Most enchantments.”
I didn’t get it. “What’s the catch?”
“I told you it sounded weird.”
“What’s his name?” This was too easy.
“I don’t have that. I had to piece together the details for finding him, and no one will give up a name. The details for dealing with him are consistent, though. Everyone likes him because he doesn’t deal in bullshit.”
Super, super odd. “Shamrock Lakes, Indiana,” I repeated.
“Yup.”
It was something to do. If it led to a fight, that was fine as long as it was just me. If I could get laid while I was there, that was better. Taking any action at this point was better than what I was doing. “I’ll call you after.” The idea of checking in was weird. It wasn’t as if she was an anxious friend or relative waiting for me to confirm I was safe.
It was so Davyn could find me.
“Good luck,” Enid said, and we disconnected.
I grabbed my bag—everything was already in it—told the host I was leaving, and walked out of the hostel. Stepping into the open air made me breathe a sigh of relief. It wasn’t as if I’d been stuck inside for the last two days, but not knowing where I was going next had been suffocating. Not being able to act.
There was no need to extend my senses and search for a gate, since I’d arrived through one. Good thing, too. I didn’t think I could find what I needed with only one blade enchanted. This entrance looked like a graffiti doorway painted into a mural on the side of a tattoo parlor.
I stepped through the painted opening. Eat your heart out, Wil E. Coyote. When I exited the other side, the faint scent of charcoal greeted me. As if someone had been burning something, but hours ago. Either that was my blacksmith, or I was walking into the tail end of trouble.
In a way I itched for the latter. I really needed to burn off this excess energy.
I picked my way through cracked concrete and weeds and headed toward the street. It looked like any other Main Street in Small Town USA. Which direction?
A glint of sunlight on silver caught my attention out of the corner of my eye, and I turned to see a chrome diner car, sparkling in the afternoon light. Gigi’s Diner .
What if this wasn’t the right place?
Enid made it sound simple, and things were never this easy. I didn’t care what her contacts said. For all I knew, if they were hiding this guy’s identity, they’d sent me into a trap.
Cool.
I strolled toward the building, resisting the urge to tap my fingers against my one good knife. It was a habit that could draw unwanted attention, but I felt naked, knowing the other one was broken.
Tension tightened my muscles the closer I got. It was easy to see inside, thanks to the giant windows. There was a man playing pinball at a machine on the far wall, a waitress, and a shadow through the window behind her that showed the kitchen. The cook, maybe?
Davyn would tell me he was jealous I was walking into a potential fight without him. It wouldn’t hide his anger at my going into something unsafe alone. It was odd after such a short period of time to trust him to have my back, and odder to be here without him.
I stepped inside, and the waitress glanced up from where she was making coffee. “Have a seat anywhere, hon. Be right with you.”
“Sounds good.” I paused, to take in the walls covered in decades of memorabilia. A poodle skirt hung next to a paddle ball near various sizes and shapes of game cartridges and VHS movie covers. Davyn would love this place. It was too bad we’d probably never come here again.
I picked a red-vinyl-covered seat at the counter and hooked my heels on the chrome rung circling the stand three quarters of the way between me and the black-and-white tile. Keeping my back to the room was a bad idea. Or it would be if it weren’t for the mirror across from me that gave me a full view. I could watch behind me without looking like that was what I was doing.
The energy in here was bright and felt like hope, and a comforting warmth flowed inside. I felt something similar when I started traveling with Davyn, but this was more intense, which made it disconcerting. Was there a false aura of security in here? Was that a thing?
I didn’t see why it wouldn’t be.
My gaze was drawn to the pinball player, who hadn’t so much as glanced in my direction. He held himself with confidence and filled out a pair of basic Wranglers in a way that made me want to find out what was underneath. His shirt was loose, but every time he hit the paddles or rocked the machine, his body tensed, and the muscle was distinct under fabric. The kind of strength earned from physical labor, not gym equipment.
My gaze dropped back to his ass for another look. I should have noticed the gun there at first glance. His shirt hid the weapon, but not the outline of it.
I couldn’t stop watching him, regardless.
Either he was the person I was looking for, or my blacksmith wasn’t here. How dangerous was it that I wanted to be looking for Wranglers With a Gun?
I finally forced my attention away, but not before his eyes met mine in the mirror. A shiver raced down my spine. Was that a good or bad feeling?
I didn’t know.
“You okay, hon?” The waitress stopped in front of me. “You look like someone just walked over your grave.”
I gave her most of my attention and a smile. “I’m good.”
“Can I get you something to drink? Do you need a minute?”
Easiest question I’d had to deal with this week. Diners tended to either have great food or up all night regretting life food, and the thrill was in figuring out which this was. I got the same thing in every one of them and had a list in my head of those I’d go back to. If I were the kind of person who went to any town more than once. “Strawberry milkshake, bacon cheeseburger, and fries. A lot of fries.”
The waitress— Gabby , according to her name tag—raised her brows and looked me over. “Do you want half of that in a box?”
“No.” One of the best things about the way I trained was that I could eat whatever I wanted. “I think I can handle it.”
She shook her head and walked away. A moment later, she was back with my milkshake. “The rest will be out soon.”
While I waited, I couldn’t stop my gaze from falling back to Mr. Pinball Wizard. Why was he so fascinating? Was it the sexy-as-fuck body and the focus he wore while he played? Was it because that need to burn off excess energy still coursed through my veins?
A few years ago, I would have either picked a fight with him or played coy to see if he’d pick me up. Or both.
Thank the gods I didn’t fill the void in my soul with sex anymore.
I caught my bottom lip between my teeth. Would I make an exception for him? He might be the perfect thing to fill a hole or two.
Knock it off .
Fuck off, me . But I should reign my thoughts in. What happened a few days ago was proof that letting my guard down was dangerous for more than me.
He was seriously into that game, racking up win after win. With each one, with each chance to enter his initials, he let out a low growl of a yes , and the initials LGM pushed further down the top-scorer list, replaced with another set of ZZZ .
Gabby brought my food. My thanks was barely out of my mouth, before I grabbed three fries, dipped them in the shake, and shoved the mess in my mouth.
She was watching me with a curious expression, so I gave her the best smile I could. “It’s good,” I managed before grabbing more food.
It wasn’t that I’d been starving for the last few days, but if I couldn’t brawl or bang…
Her smile was kind and patient. She was probably only a decade older than me, but the pink polyester uniform with the white apron gave her a frozen-in-time sort of look. “You new here?” She ran a clean rag over a clean spot on the counter.
I didn’t blame her for digging for more details about the redheaded stranger in a place where everyone probably knew everyone else.
“Just passing through. I heard this diner had the best milkshakes.” I hadn’t heard that, but they weren’t bad. Top one-third of the list.
“You know people here, then? You looking for anything specific?”
The questions weren’t subtle. Since I’d been told to come here and ask for the guy, I might as well. “I heard there was someone here who does unique metalwork. Elven.”
Her immediate laugh wasn’t the answer I hoped for, but it wasn’t a surprise. The great thing about saying weird shit to people who didn’t expect it was they tended to think I was joking.
“Are you one of those cosplayers?” she asked.
I forced a chuckle of my own. “Something like that. My mom was huge into magic and Tolkien and stuff.”
“My second husband was like that too.” Gabby gave a light shake of her head. “But I can’t help you. I’m sorry.”
The cook called her name, and she turned away.
I dug into my meal but kept looking up at the mirror, at the other patron. What was it about him?
There was a small electronic screen near me—one of several on the counter and a sharp contrast to the rest of the decor. According to the screensaver, it gave me access to the jukebox. Davyn would grumble that this took the fun out of the experience of going up to the machine and picking a song, but today, it was convenient.
One of the things that surprised me most about Davyn was that he was a pop-culture nut. Not really anything post-2000, but he loved his classic rock.
There was no way to search for songs, and scrolling to the bottom of the artist list took longer than I wanted, but there it was. “Pinball Wizard” by The Who.
The song played through the empty diner, and when I glanced in the mirror again, the man was gone.
“Did Finn send you?” The deep voice came from next to me.
Holy shit , how did he do that? No one snuck up on me. And who the fuck was Finn? “I’m sorry—what?”