Chapter Six
Rex
“ W hat’s gotten into you?” Mom asks, trying to push some hair off my forehead, like if she looks closer at my eyes, she’ll figure it out.
Fuck, she probably will.
“Nothing.” I slam a folded chair into the rack and look away. Crap, I bet it’s the way I’m stacking these chairs like they owe me lunch money that tipped her off to my rotten mood.
“I’m your mother, Rex. I know when something’s upsetting you.”
“I’m sick of this town, okay?” I flip the last table over and get to work collapsing the legs. “I did the job you wanted done, didn’t I? I’m just ready to get home.”
“You’re all packed?”
“I had one duffel, and it’s good to go.” With all the tables and chairs in the supply closet, I slam it closed and head to the bar. Maybe a drink will settle my nerves. The champagne was a nice feeling. I need a nice feeling right about now.
She follows me. “Go back to The Deviled Egg, my emberling. Get some rest. We have a long drive to the airport tomorrow.”
I grab an empty beer mug and catch the bartender’s eye, nodding at the dregs of the last champagne bottle. “I’ll take the rest of that.”
My teeth grind together as Mom watches the bartender finish it off. Her eyes flare a deep scarlet, almost black. She doesn’t want me to drink. I’m a well-known lightweight, not the tolerance anyone expects in a big guy, since I almost never drink. But my pride never quite makes the connection, and I have a habit of getting messy.
I chug the champagne. The burn registers, fast and delicious.
“He’s done,” Mom says. The bartender nods respectfully. She points at me. “Sleep it off.”
U nder the Volcano is a cool tiki bar up on a hill that serves a damn good burger. Now normally, I do whatever my mom tells me, but I’m not here to drink my sorrows away. I’m here for answers.
Birdie’s been quiet about the cabin construction the last month or so at dinners. That can’t be good news. She’d be talking our ears off if things were going well.
Can I really leave Winter Bliss if she’s in a bad spot? The only way to ease my mind is to hit up some local watering holes of contractors. I know the team lead of the construction crew she’s got lined up likes to watch rugby up here from time to time.
“What’s up, Oatmeal?” I slap his back.
As expected, the big, bald orc is watching a bunch of buff-ass ladies beat each other up on a TV over the bar. He helped me bust down a wall in one of the back rooms of Perkatory recently. Good guy.
“Rex.” He nods before turning back to the screen. “What’s up, brother?”
“How’s work out at Birdie’s place going?”
“Standstill.” He shakes his head. “Foundation crew didn’t realize she needed a septic system and utilities up there. Just laid solid slabs down. She’s been sitting on it for a couple months now. Had to move her off my schedule until she makes a decision.”
My leg shakes where I stand. Installing pipes under an already-made foundation is a nightmare. What the fuck is she gonna do? I know what I want to do—pitch in with Oatmeal’s crew and help her avoid future blunders. But I’ve got a nonrefundable one-way ticket home, and she’s getting fucking married tomorrow. Facts are facts.
“Thanks, man.” I pound a fist on the table, resolving to call Miss Eda in a few days for more info. I bet I could get Perkatory to fly me back to Winter Bliss for the grand opening of the next locations in a month or so.
My fists flex as I try to problem solve, but my mind is sluggish. It’s probably that damn champagne kicking in. I need to soak it up with some greasy food.
“What’ll you have?” The bartender sidles over.
“Top him up.” I nudge Oatmeal with a nod of thanks. “And I’ll have a nacho burger.”
“We only serve food at the tables.” His chin lifts to the tabletops behind me. “But I’ll get it started with the waitress.”
“Thanks, man.”
Making my way through the dark dining area, I don’t like how crowded the seating is, so I head out to the porch instead. A breath of fresh air would be nice. Growing up bigger than most, I became hyper aware of how much space I take up. Sometimes, for peace of mind, it’s just easiest to stay out of people’s way.
There’s only one person outside, and I recognize his puny set of horns right away. What a twist of fate seeing him back here.
One of my two oldest friends.
Vale.
Last we spoke, he'd moved to Hollywood to play Thraxxius in a reboot of a popular sci-fi TV show. I watched it just for a chuckle, but ended up binging the whole series. My dude’s pretty fucking talented. Keep meaning to call and tell him that.
Man, he’s different now than when we were thick as thieves back in school. Fifteen years will do that to anyone. No longer a stringy little weirdo, he’s got style. He leans a little closer to his single basket of tater tots and takes a big ol' sniff. Hmm, still a weirdo, after all.
“Are you gonna eat those or just eye fuck ’em?” I ask.
“Go get your own food,” he snarls, whipping around, but when he sees me, he bolts up out of his chair. Shock is written all over his face. “Rex?”
I can’t help but laugh. He was about to run me through for trying to snatch a couple cold tater tots. Vale was such a pip-squeak back in the day, but he’s always had a fighter’s spirit. The guy never backed down from a tussle. Trading insults was our typical hello.
“Mr. Hollywood.” I step closer, kind of amazed we’re nearly the same height. I used to throw him around, play-wrestling as kids. Just like my own brothers, I never took it easy on him, and he got better over time. Had to, what with all the bullying. He and Rom both had wicked stutters as a kid. We met in their speech therapist’s waiting room. “I almost didn’t recognize you, bro. I don’t know how it’s possible, but you got uglier.”
He grins and, besides the horns, it’s nearly the only familiar thing about him anymore. “And you got stupider.”
He tips his head forward in the sign he’s ready to tussle. Alright then, cowboy. Let’s see what you got. We shove each other and lock horns. His are short enough, I’m not about to get caught. The muscle memory in how we play fight is automatic. He recognizes some of my moves but can actually counter them with strength now.
I feel . . . proud of him. Happy, I think, for the first time in a long time.
After a minute, I notice him breathing hard. He may work out with a trainer for the stars, but I work outside day in and day out. My stamina is on point. I twist him into an easy headlock, complete with ruffling his fancy hair. “Let me buy you a drink. I’ve got some food coming anyway.”
This is how I want to spend my last night in Winter Bliss, hanging out with an old friend. End it on a high note.
“Rex!” It's my name but Vale is the one who lights up.
“I didn't tell you!” He elbows me. “Iggy's here too! Crazy, right?”
“What? Really?” I turn around and there she is.
A skinny, sleek-looking demoness grabs a tray full of shots and beer from a waitress and heads our way.
“Freak!” Her old nickname flies out of my mouth. Back in freshman year, she was the kooky goth kid into spiders and black lace veils and shit, Vale was the runt with the stutter, and I was the sixteen-year-old loser held back two grades. Total misfits.
Naturally, we three were the best of friends.
Now, they couldn’t be more different. Iggy’s in an all-black outfit, real put-together and walking with confidence, like she owns the room and we’re just lucky to be in her presence.
It’s damn good to see people grow into their own. They’re two demons going places. Whereas, what am I doing? Odd jobs for my family business. Perkatory isn’t mine; it’s definitely not my passion. I just sort of hang around my successful family like dead weight.
Yeah, I’m gonna need that drink. Luckily, Iggy's got us covered. I steal one of her shots and grab the bowl of peanuts off the tray. She insults me with a grin and pours me a glass of beer from the pitcher.
We all chitchat for a while. The beer is tasty, so I have a refill.
Conversation with them is as easy as ever. Casual cursing. Talking shit. Nothing is all that serious. When the topic of moving back to Winter Bliss comes up, we each agree, that’s a big fat no.
Not with Birdie running around married. Eventually she’ll get all cute and pregnant, pop out a brood of curly-headed kids with big, pretty eyes.
Makes me sick to my stomach.
Time flies.
We talk about nothing and everything. I think I wrestle with someone else, but my mind keeps circling back to Birdie.
I can’t believe she’s getting fucking married tomorrow morning. How many hours to go now? I look at my phone. The numbers kind of blur together. That happens at night sometimes, vision just gets a little goofy.
Will she have wedding bells after the ceremony? That always seemed kinda nice. I wonder if I’ll still be around town when it happens. I should want to leave early for the airport, but I kind of . . . I kind of hope I’m still around.
What if I came down the stairs tomorrow and saw Orla and Miss Eda dressed up all nice for the wedding? I’d give them the biggest hugs. And maybe, I mean, there’s always a chance I could see Birdie again. Just once more.
I wouldn’t say anything stupid this time. I’d be real nice.
An image of her in a wedding dress comes to life in my mind. She’d wear something lacy or linen, maybe both. Off-white, I think. Yeah, a warmer shade would look better if she was outdoors under the big oaks near Teapot Lake with her hair down. There’s a perfect spot on her ranch where you could put out a few hay bales in a half circle and throw quilts over them for some color. Lanterns would hang in the tree limbs, and if it’s right at sunset, the fireflies would drift by. It’d be an intimate ceremony. Magical, in a gentle sort of way. The animals could all be involved too, ring bearers and shit.
I laugh to myself. Fuck, I’d love to see that.
Thinking about her in a wedding dress doesn’t even hurt.
Nothing hurts anymore.
Everything’s just kind of hazy and nice. Real nice. My mind wanders through the prettiest daydream. Birdie in a wedding dress with flowers in her hair.
“You’re so drunk, dude.” Vale pushes my shoulder. I fall to the floor in slow motion.
Weird, that didn’t hurt either.
“No way.” I chuckle. Rather than try to regain my seat, I scoot back and let the wall hold me up. My horns rock against the wood. That's nice. Familiar. “Just feelin’ good. My friend’s getting married tomorrow. Wish I could see it.”
“Just a couple minutes ago, you threatened to kill someone and we almost got into a bar fight. Sure you’re feelin’ good ?”
“Wait, I did? Who?”
Vale just laughs. I think he’s the drunk one. Silly billy.
“Hold on, who’s getting married?” Iggy thumps my forehead. I snatch her wrist and growl. She bares her teeth right back. Shit starter.
“Birdie.” I can’t seem to remember much else, but her . . . I couldn’t forget her if I tried.
“Your bird is getting married?” Iggy punches Vale’s shoulder and they both giggle which turns into a chuckle that devolves into gut-busting chortles.
“What—oh, goddess—what’s on the registry?” Vale struggles to get the words out because he’s cackling like a maniac instead of breathing. “A double-wide cage?”
Iggy wheezes. “A sparkly pair of swings?”
“A Home Tweet Home sign?” Vale adds.
They’re both basically choking on their own laughter. Couple of idiots.
My mind is stuck on something that feels important.
“Her registry! Fuck me, I never got Birdie a gift.” I unlock my phone with my face since my passcode doesn’t seem to be working and search for her wedding registry using voice commands. Nothing comes up. I know the address to her ranch. I’ll just have to wing it and send something there.
“What’s a good wedding gift?” I ask Iggy and Vale.
“Who’s getting married?” Vale asks.
It’s been all of five minutes. Dark Mother, they are really drunk. I don’t even dignify that with an answer.
“I need options for the best damn wedding present you can think of.” I point to Iggy. She’s a girl, she should know. “Go!”
“A toaster.”
“Lame.” I point to Vale. “You’re up, Hollywood.”
“Crystal flutes.”
“She lives on a ranch, dipshit. Birdie’s not a fancy kind of girl. And anyway, what’s she gonna do with those? Toast her lame-ass, limp-dick husband over dinner? Fuck that.” I pet my mustache, thinking, when the perfect solution comes to me. “I’ll shave off my mustache. She hates it! That’s perfect. Real unconventional.”
Iggy blinks at me. “I mean, it is ugly.”
“Hey!”
“Like an overweight bug.” Vale tries to poke it, and I smack his hand away.
“So who’s got a knife?” I ask.
“Oh! Oh! I got one.” Iggy bounces in her seat, a little too aggressively, so I grab the leg of the chair to keep her stable.
“Sweet. Give it.” I hold my palm out.
“No, not a knife. Holy Darkness, I’m not a twelve-year-old boy trying to prove I have hair on my balls. Who carries around a knife for no reason?”
“Plenty of guys with hairy balls, thank you very much. I just packed mine up already and didn’t bring it tonight.”
“What I meant to say is I thought of a good present for your lady friend’s wedding,” she says.
I roll my arm like a crank, ready to hear their next horrible suggestion.
“A fancy showerhead!” She claps.
“Hmm.” I imagine Birdie in the shower. Oh yeah, all those glistening curves. Totally nude. Yes. Yes, that’s a good idea. Then I picture her fucking husband sliding into the shower with her, how he gets to see her like that, how he’d change the fancy controls of the showerhead so it’s just a gentle mist coating her dark, curly eyelashes. All romantic and shit. I shake my head. “Fuck that. Her husband will enjoy it too much.”
“You sure about that?” Iggy leans down so we’re eye level.
I’m missing something and she can see it in my face because she boops my nose. It’s a gentle boop so I don’t retaliate with a bite. This time.
“All a guy’s gonna do with a nice showerhead is set it to turbo blast and forget about it,” she says. “But a woman? She’ll find the perfect setting to pleasure herself with. If it’s got a lot of options, she might even find two or three ways.”
My body flashes hot.
Birdie’s smart. And subtle. She would do that, wouldn’t she? She’d read every page of the instructions and sneak away from that dingleberry asshat she shares a bed with. He’d be incapable of pleasing her, I’m sure of it. She’d turn on the shower and brace herself against the wall. Get comfortable. Let the sensation of a hundred jets of water slide over her skin until the room fogged up. She’d click over to her favorite setting, widen her legs, and move the showerhead into place. She’d take her time.
And every time she used it, she’d think of me. She wouldn’t be able to stop herself. It’ll be just like I’m there, right down on my knees. Holding her open. Drinking her up.
“Fuck yeah,” my voice breaks a little. Best present ever.
“I know just the one.” Iggy wiggles her fingers at me until I hand my phone over. She finds a showerhead in the blink of an eye and adds it to my cart. “Just enter her address here.”
I focus real hard. Like really, really hard. Use the voice command, then edit the address by hand and reread it at least ten times before I hit the purchase button.
When my phone dings with a confirmation email, I jump to stand and put Iggy in a headlock. “You’re a fuckin’ genius, girl. I owe you one.”
“So, you’re keeping the mustache?” she frowns.
“Nah.” I pat her back. “Birdie deserves two gifts, minimum. I’m gonna ask Oatmeal for a knife.”
B efore I know it, the night air is pummeling my face in the most delicious way. My face feels cold and alive.
I’m a brand-new person.
Oh. My mustache is gone.
And my head is hanging out of an open car window.
I’m in a car?
My horns scrape the ceiling as I fold myself back in the cab. Iggy and Vale are here too. That’s good. Those two goons would get into way too much trouble without me.
We’re headed . . . somewhere.
Goddess, hopefully not The Deviled Egg. I can’t rightly remember all the fancy steps Birdie taught me about how to sneak in all quiet-like.
The driver cuts us each a sharp look from the rearview mirror as the car slows to a stop. “This is your last chance. I’ll give you ten seconds to tell me an address or I’m dropping you off at the town square. Pass out there for all I care.”
Iggy purses her mouth and shakes her head.
Vale just laughs down at his phone. He’s watching his own movie trailer, totally out of it.
There’s no way in the Crystal Halls of the Underworld I would ever give them the address to The Deviled Egg in this condition. I’d sooner sleep on a public bench. Fine by me. I always thought that haunted statue in the center of the plaza was cool anyway. Lots of pretty lanterns surround it. Kind of soothing, like a bunch of spooky night-lights.
I haven’t seen it at night since I was a kid, so I climb out of the car and make my way in that direction.
The statue’s imposing metal form looks pretty badass. Tall too. The historic dude stands atop a pedestal at least four feet above the ground. I knock on the base, then the foot of the statue. Marble on bottom and bronze up top, I’d guess. The impressive part of it all is the dozens of glass orbs filled with live flame. Every time I blink, the light swims and shifts.
Hmm, I might be a little toasted after all.
I trace the tubing leading into one of the lanterns, amazed by the craftsmanship. They’re hidden well, but all these lines carry natural gas to each of the flickering lanterns. The two largest orbs are in the statue’s upturned palms with a few at his feet and the rest spiraling above him in an arc. It’s meant to look like he’s summoning a mythic firestorm.
He fucking wishes.
“Alaric Infernus,” I say, looking up at the founder of a bunch of historic shit in town, most notably the namesake of our good ole alma mater, Infernus Academy.
Most people know the truth about him now though. He was nothing more than a trumped-up snake oil salesman who made his money in a cascade of cons that led him to finally settle in Winter Bliss where he hid from federal agents until his dying day. Not that anyone back then knew that.
History has a way of revealing the villains given enough time.
“More like Asshole Infernus,” Vale says. I nod at him. He gets it.
“Asshole Ignor-anus,” Iggy adds.
“All-too-rich Doofus,” I chuckle. You know what? This guy doesn’t deserve such a cool-ass statue. “I bet I could melt off his face.”
I hoist myself up on the pedestal and start climbing Alaric’s larger-than-life frame. My friends are yelling at me. Encouragement, no doubt. How funny would it be to melt off the tip of his nose so he looked like a zombie while everyone walks through town tomorrow. Surprise ! I laugh so hard, I almost lose my footing. A couple glass lanterns crunch beneath my feet. Whoops.
Everyone will understand. I have a job to do.
Improve Winter Bliss.
Unmask the real assholes—the slick, pretty boys who say all the right things, the guys who can trick even the smartest of people before fucking them over in the end. Guys like Randy.
“Fuck that guy,” I whisper to myself as I put Alaric’s bronze neck in a chokehold and rub my knuckles over his head like a noogie before punching him in the side, right where the kidneys would be. My fist meets metal. “Ouch,” I growl, shaking out my hand. “Tough old bastard. Fuck you!”
“And fuck Infernus Academy!” Vale is up on the other side of the statue with me. When did he get up here? His eyes are glowing red. He only ever looked like that when cornered by bullies back at school, the school named after Alaric Infernus, whose own principal was a distant descendant and did fuck all to help Vale back then.
Okay, it makes sense why he'd hate this statue. And you know what? My buddy deserves a little payback. And I’m just the friend to help.
I snap my fingers until a bright-orange flame dances in my palm.
Vale does the same, his flame a vibrant blue.
We swirl our hands together, urging the fire bigger. Brighter. This feels so good. Right. So incredibly justified. Anger colors Vale’s eyes and every harsh line of his face as the darkness and flames play off each other.
I know what it’s like to be mad. To want the world to be different.
I want that for him.
I want that for both of us.
My vision grows gold and I know my eyes are glowing too, fire magic flowing through me stronger than ever.
Time for zombie founding father.
I slap my flaming hand on one side of Alaric’s head until the tips of my fingers touch his nose. Within seconds, it melts at my touch. Rivulets of neon orange metal run down his face.
Vale roars and slams his flaming hand against the statue’s chest.
He groans, as if in pain. Wait. No. Vale is fine. It’s the statue that’s groaning.
We’re rocking side to side. The weight of both of us on the pedestal sets it off-kilter. The glass lanterns clink together. I slip and tumble to the ground, landing on my feet.
Vale falls too, still mad as hell. He throws a fireball straight at the statue’s chest.
Uh oh. That was ill-advised.
Glass shatters and I smell gas just as Iggy shouts, “Get down!”
The ensuing explosion knocks me on my back.
But I don’t go out cold.
I blink at the stars overhead that I can still see through the smoke. There are so many of them here, even in the middle of town. One of my favorite things to do as a kid was just lay in the backyard and stare up at the sky. There are way more constellations out here than the big city I’ve lived in the last decade or so.
I bet it looks even better from Birdie’s ranch, out where there’s no light pollution, just fresh air and evergreen trees and lots of ornery animals and an even more stubborn lady taking care of them all.
It’s a real nice place, her ranch.
She should get married there, surrounded by everyone who cares about her, everyone she loves the most.
She deserves to have the best wedding day.
I hope tomorrow’s nice for her, even if I won’t get to see it.