Chapter Five #2
He wouldn't actually come here, would he? For a few minutes, I told him via voicemail and text to not drive or leave the bar. Then I relented and begged him to get a driver. I sent a similar message to my brothers. Confirmation soon came. He got an Uber.
Whew. One crisis over.
I returned to make an appearance, then excused myself from several conversations, each lasting a few minutes, and ended with an admittedly attractive red-headed Volardi from an ice planet.
By the time I reached the valet area, the night had turned cold, and the air bit my skin.
A sleek grey car screeched to a halt at the curb, and my dad stumbled out, followed by a new group of drinking buddies.
Judging from the slurred conversations, Dad's new friends were equally drunk.
"There he is!" Dad's voice echoed across the lot as he spread his arms wide. "My famous boy!"
Cameras swiveled toward us. I rushed to him before he could draw more attention.
He slung an arm around my shoulders, and the stench of acidic whiskey slapped my nostrils.
"This is your big moment, Tommy," he slurred. "The chance to write your own ticket!"
A tall, lanky guy in his twenties exited the driver's side, glared at Dad with a sigh, then at me.
The drive over couldn't have been quiet.
I imagine he was louder in the bar, and why my brothers needed a break.
The amount on the phone showed, and the Uber driver pointed at the highest tip percentage.
Yeah, point taken.
Dad ran a wrinkled hand over his face. "Oh, hell, let me get it." He jammed his thumb against the phone as the driver frowned. "Pay driver! Pay!"
"It doesn't work like that." I gave the universal 'Give me a second' gesture to the driver as my dad hugged me tight again.
I tried to pull away, but he held on as his voice dropped.
"You should be proud, son, because I am of you!
So damn much, I wanna burst." His eyes grew wet against my head.
"I don't care what you are, never did. You know that, right? "
"I do," I said as my cheeks burned. Valet staff pointed, and reporters recorded us. I could handle myself as a sensation piece, but they didn't need to see my dad stumbling drunk.
A shrill male voice cut through the nighttime air. "Hey, Thomas! We can smell him over here. Is this why you're offering yourself to the Volardi? To pay for your father's bar tabs?"
I had never seen a glare before, like what Zephyron gave me, but I'm sure I repeated it. Thank the stars, I wasn't closer.
Before I could nudge Dad back to his car and convince the driver to take us a few blocks away, the sound of raised voices caught my attention. Zephyron and his two mates had exited the event. Their regal presence was stark against the mundane parking lot as if they didn't belong.
The same voice shrieked over. "Thomas! Reports state there was a fight inside the ballroom, and you attacked their Femeni. Were you drinking like your father?"
Another shout came. "We hear the Soturi now exiting threatened to kill you. Anything to say to him?"
Dad spotted Zephyron and froze, his drunken grin slipped away, and he stared with laser-focused eyes. "He threatened you, Tommy?"
"Yes, I mean no. Not really."
More questions came with my attention split between protecting my father, dealing with reporters, making sure Dad's new friends didn't do anything, and paying for the ride.
Everything didn't just happen at once. It collapsed like a house of cards.
The car door slammed closed with my father behind the wheel.
Maybe he thought the smart thing was to drive closer, then get out, and not stumble-walk the entire way.
The engine roared to life, and he lurched forward, tires screeching.
My heart jumped into my throat as the car careened toward Zephyron's group and several reporters.
"Get out!" I screamed and ran faster than I ever did in my life.
Zephyron's eyes snapped toward the sound, his entire body tense. He moved instinctively, stepping in front of his mates with a protective stance. His massive shoulders broadened to shield them.
"No, Dad, don't!"
But my words got swallowed by the tire screeches.
The brake lights flashed, yet the car picked up speed, fishtailing wildly as it surged toward the Volardi trio.
Time slowed, and every second dragged out into a distorted eternity as my shoes slapped the pavement.
A cold wave of sweat washed over me. No, no. ..
The car swerved. Either an attempt to miss them or Dad's body functions collapsing as the alcohol took complete control.
Zephyron moved faster than expected for his size.
He had twisted at the last second, shoving his two mates further behind him, but the car clipped his side with a brutal crack.
The impact launched his massive frame up and over the hood, his fur cloak whipping like a torn banner.
His body slammed against the windshield and rolled over the roof.
The momentum didn't stop.
The car barreled forward into the Femeni and Dara, who'd been too close to escape. The Femeni's force field surged to a deep, purple light, but it couldn't absorb the full impact. The sound was hideous: metal hitting flesh and the electric 'pop' of an overloaded field in one jarring burst.
Both were thrown violently back, and their bodies tumbled across the pavement. The Dara landed first, and the smaller man struck the ground like a rag doll.
The Femeni let out a thin, wavering cry, barely audible over the squeal of tires, then went silent. His field flickered and dimmed. Delicate limbs lay sprawled beside the Dara's limp arm.
The car, dented and smoking, drifted forward, then slammed nose-first into a wall.
For a moment, the world went silent.
Zephyron spun toward the wreckage. He didn't run to his mates or check for signs of life.
He knew.
I'd heard Soturi warriors were trained to recognize death in a heartbeat. One glance, one breath, and they could see what others denied. The Femeni didn't move. The Dara no longer breathed.
A howl followed, ripping through the night, deep and raw. Zephyron lunged forward and tore the car door from its hinges. Metal shrieked as if it screamed too.
"Wait!" My voice cracked with panic as I stumbled forward, but it was too late.
Zephyron reached into the car with his left hand and yanked my father out like he weighed nothing, holding him aloft with one hand.
Cameras flashed, and tomorrow that would be the photo in every story.
A Human dangling helplessly, with his feet kicking the air after he murdered two alien visitors.
There would be another, blurred because they couldn't show the gore.
"Stop!" I screamed, but my voice was drowned out by the chaos.
Zephyron's right hand shot forward, and a gleaming metal sword grew out of nothing.
"No!"
The blade plunged deep, then high. My father sagged in his grip, eyes wide—not in pain, but in disbelief. The world greyed as red spurted out. When his body hit the ground, there was no scream. Just the wet sound of impact and the faint rustle of his denim jeans and jacket.
He opened his mouth as I ran toward him, but no words came out.
Only blood and silence.
***