Chapter 2
“Hey, there! Nice of you to finally show up.”
“Finally?” I grumbled, sliding my eyes toward the only other Warden in all of Arrhythmia– whose dirty boots were propped on my desk.
“He says that every evening, Lad. It’s never bothered you before,” the Dragon King with whom I shared my soul politely, with a side of sarcasm, reminded.
“That you know,” I snapped, setting my travel cup on the corner of the desk with a resounding thud.
Nine-hundred-ninety-nine years, five months, and eighteen hours of incarceration in Arrhythmia, charged with keeping the Wards that hid the penal colony from prying eyes, paying for a bullshit, trumped-up crime that was a setup from the jump, and the Dragon King with whom I shared my soul wanted to give me a lesson in social niceties? Nope, not today, Sunshine.
We were here because I was getting too close to exposing that fucking Necromancer for the piece of shit he was. Not a day, not a gosh damned minute went by that I didn’t think about what I was going to do to that piece of shit when I got out of this hellhole.
But that would have to wait. I need to be alone, and that meant getting Hank to take a hike.
Not waiting for an answer from my alter ego, I answered the Hellhound with more animosity than intended, “You buckin’ for the job of my momma? Maybe you’d like to be my keeper.”
“Hell no. Neither.” Uncrossing his legs, the thud of the heels of Hank’s well-worn military-style boots cut through my aching head like a shot.
Already cringing, seriously regretting my late night attempts at numbing my mind with a bottle of whiskey, I couldn’t keep from clenching my left hand into a tight fist when the Hellhound’s hand slammed down on my shoulder as he loudly teased, “I can’t imagine anything worse, and I was born in Hell, raised in the Flames, then sent to Arrhythmia, the asshole of the desert. ”
“You do have a way with words, my friend.”
“Yeah, so I’ve been told.” Hank’s gravelly laughter burrowed under my skin like a million or so sand fleas. Then he added, “It’s been a long, boring night. You might even get a nap. As for me, I’m ready to eat and get some shut-eye.”
Every word was like a jackhammer beating on my skull. I actually contemplated punching his friend in the mouth just to shut him up.
I didn’t, but that didn’t stop me from thinking about it.
“It won’t help,” King Anluan, the aforementioned Dragon King, sighed… and I ignored.
Walking away before I threw caution to the wind and decked the only person in Arrhythmia I cared to tolerate for longer than five minutes, I grabbed my coffee, rounded the desk, and sat down in the chair Hank had just vacated.
Not looking up, I knocked back the well-used, dark brown Stetson on my head with a bump of the knuckle of the index finger of my left hand to the underside, and sighed, “Go on then. Get to gettin’.
Sounds like you’ve got a plan. By all means, don’t let me keep you from it. ”
Counting the Hellhound’s steps, I held my breath. It took precisely twelve strides to get from the desk to the backdoor. Heavens knew I had counted them every day for almost a century, and I was counting Hank’s at that very moment as I prayed for him to hurry the hell up and leave me alone.
Sadly, he stopped at eleven. Forcing out an exasperated breath, I decided to take the path of least resistance, aka ignore, ignore, ignore.
Then, just to be sure I didn’t open my mouth and insert both feet, I kept my head down, picked up the file folder from the left corner of the desk, threw it open, and thumbed through the papers like I hadn’t looked at them a hundred times already.
Sadly, my plan didn’t work. To be honest, it never did, but that didn’t stop me from trying.
“I get that you don’t wanna talk about whatever crawled up your ass and died, or whoever pissed your Cheerios, or kicked your dog…
“I don’t have a dog.”
Moving right past the fact that I’d spoken, Hank continued, “But you know what I think about stuffin’ down your feelings.”
“Yeah,” I grumbled under my breath, knowing damn good and well he could hear me. “So you’ve said... about a million or so times.”
“Okay, then, so, I’m just gonna remind you that I’m always here to listen when you’re ready to talk. Don’t go suppressing your emotions until you have heartburn. Lucifer knows, I don’t want you burping fire all over the place.”
Rolling my eyes upward without moving my head, I met Hank’s eyes and sarcastically scoffed, “Are you sure your momma wasn’t a Fluffy Bunny Rabbit? You got a whole lotta kumbaya feelings going on up in there.”
“So, it’s that way, is it?” Hank snapped.
“Instead of tellin’ me what the hell’s wrong with you, and why you’re even a nastier SOB than usual, you’re gonna insult my momma?
” Not waiting for an answer, the Hellhound spun around and took the last step to the exit.
Opening the door, he stepped over the threshold, then pulled the thick, metal door shut with a window-rattling slam.
“One… Two… Thr…” I counted aloud. Then, to King Anluan, I mentally scoffed, “You know he’s not done.”
“And you can kiss my ass, Guy MacAllen. Kiss it all the way to Hell and back!”
The Hellhound’s comeback reverberated off the cement block walls of the Warden’s station, and no matter how bad my head hurt, I had to chuckle, “He’s always got to have the last word.
” Taking off my hat, I set it atop the two-drawer filing cabinet to the right and added, “That boy needs to get a hobby that doesn’t involve me.
I won’t be here forever.” Sorting the papers into stacks, I snorted, “Or better yet, he needs a girlfriend. Yep, he needs to find a nice female who’ll appreciate all his soft underbelly. ”
“Look who’s talking,” the Dragon King grumbled.
“Shut up, Old Man,” I snarled aloud.
“Listen up, Lad.” Smoke and steam filled my mind’s eye as the Dragon King gained steam like the freight train I knew he could be. I’d hit a nerve. Well, to be fair, it was a nerve I seemed to continually hit without exerting any effort at all.
Anluan was furious. His anger was instantly a living, breathing entity seething in the depths of our combined psyche. He was downright pissed as he snarled, “I’ve just about had enough of your sad sack, smart-arsed, bad attitude. There is nothing that says…”
“…there is nothing that says our One True Fated Mate isn’t in Arrhythmia,” I mocked.
Yeah, I was a dick. It was a fact I’d never argued, and just to dot that particular ‘I’, I imitated the Dragon King’s deep, rumbling Scottish brogue to perfection.
Yes, I knew it wasn’t going to end well.
No, I didn’t give a shit. But that didn’t stop me from letting go of the tenuous grip I had on my own temper.
Slamming the palm of my right hand on the desk, I ground out through gritted teeth, “Nothing but the fact that this Goddess be damned place is a fuckin’ penal colony– one we have been stuck in for nine-hundred-ninety-nine years, five months, and eighteen hours for no good reason except the fact that Fogarty T.
Petersen is a nasty bastard who has hated me and mine for longer than I’ve been alive.
Fucking Necromancers! They live too damn long for their own good.
They talk to the dead like the rest of us talk to our friends.
It’s no wonder so many of them end up in padded rooms. But fuckin’ Fogarty is the worst. That asshole is rotten as well as crazy as a bedbug. ”
“And while all that might be true,” Anluan, affectionately known as Lou on many other occasions, agreed. “That has nothing to do with the subject at hand.”
Whoa… Something had changed. He was suddenly calm.
It was like he’d flipped a switch and all was well again.
It was weird, and that couldn’t be good for me.
I needed to head this crap off at the pass.
Sadly, I was forced to change course, shut down my inner bitching, and come up with what to say, while on the other hand, the Old Dragon King had his rebuttal locked and loaded. “I don’t think…”
But I couldn’t let him win this argument. He’d been preaching at me for too many days about my shitty attitude, and although he was right, I wasn’t in the mood.
It was time to get creative. And since I didn’t have a creative bone in my body, I decided to let my shitty attitude shine.
“Hold on just one second, Lou,” I cut him off. “In what stretch of your addled imagination would the Universe let the woman She made for me, my perfect complement in every way, the Light to my Darkness, get thrown into this hell hole?”
“For the same reason that you, one of the Universe’s Chosen Warriors, and I, King Anluan, who carried the great King Arthur into battle more times than even I can remember, are here. It can all be boiled down to two words: Shit. Happens.”
“Shit happens?” I was flabbergasted. For the briefest of moments, and for one of the only times in my life, I was speechless– except for those two words.
My mouth was trying to catch up with my mind, but anger was winning the race. The Old Man had gone too far this time. I went from having fun with him to madder than a wet hen in less than a heartbeat. It was my switch that had been flipped this time, and not in a good way.
Jumping to my feet, the back of my knees hit the edge of the seat of the chair with so much force that it shot backward like a rock out of a slingshot.
Bouncing off the wall just as quickly, the crooked wheel on the front right sent it veering wildly off course with extreme prejudice.
Hitting the metal filing cabinet with a loud crash, not only did the top drawer of the rusted cupboard jut out like it was on a spring, but my hat went sailing through the air, hit the far wall, and landed on the dirty floor with a resounding echo.