Part I
Ladies and Gents reading this, throw your hands in the air if you've ever been hit on before. Unless you look, talk, act, or smell like (or actually are) a wildebeest then everybody's hand should be waving in the air. Now keep them up if you're just a chick. Now this is a game changer - keep your hand up if the person hitting on you was a wizard. Now this is the part where everybody looks at each other strangely as their hands hover above their heads. No, I don't mean that you made magic in bed. I don't mean that he had a "mighty wand" either. I mean he was a real life, actual, honest to Merlin wizard. Nobody? Well except for me. I get hit on by a wizard all the time. And let me tell you, it's not some romantic broomstick ride.
Now, I'm not trying to knock Bob. I love the guy. I do. In that "We're super best buds" kind of way. Bob knows this. He may act it sometimes, but he isn't stupid. The guy is just persistent. I think he believes that eventually he'll wear me down and I'll agree if for no other reason than to shut him up. (Lord knows I've been close far too many times). If he's not gawking at my breasts then he's making a comment about them or he's asking me out or doing some other sketchy horny thing that I've just learned to tune out. Then again, maybe he just wants to take me out on a date to show gratitude for all the times I saved his ass. No lie. For him to be a (practically) a baby wizard, Bob gets into a fuckton of trouble. It doesn't help that he likes to mouth off to things that are bigger, stronger, and more powerful than he is. Luckily I'm always there to swoop in and go badass on a motherfucker that tries to screw with my friend. At the very least, it keeps me in shape and is actually cheaper than a gym membership.
***
Now I normally don't eat breakfast. I work as an attorney with a bit of monster hunting (Thanks Bob) on the side. I'm not some Buffy the Vampire Slayer by any means, but I've tangoed with some nasty shits and lived to talk about what bitches they were. So when I do eat breakfast that usually foreshadows that some bullshit is about to go down. I was half-way through my pop-tart when I realized the error of my ways. I waited the whole day for the shit to hit the fan - I'd lose a verdict, have a flat tire, get stuck in traffic - anything but what actually happened that afternoon. I got a tip from Mo (a big ass purple/grey albatross pal of mine. Don't ask. Trust me. You'll end up with more questions than answers) that the White Council was bee lining straight for Raleigh.
The White Council is the governing body of wizards. They're all old and cranky and have a bone to pick with the world because they're old and cranky. Bob's older brother, Janus, is a member and is always up in Bob's shit to join. Bob denies him and for good reason - he doesn't really play well with others (especially Janus). The Council is pretty much a behind the scenes force. They only show up when some serious shit has gone down. I didn't know how serious until I caught up with Bob at the Taproom.
The Taproom is a classy joint. It's got a lot of charm and character and being a regular means you get your drink placed in your hand the second you walk inside. You can't beat that kind of customer service. Not to mention that the drinks are hella cheap as it is. Bob and his roommate Mike Kenyan were posted up in a table near the back. This surprised me because they're usually knocking them back at the bar. Now the Taproom is typically a busy place, but it was absolutely packed. No wonder Bob and Kenyan were at a table. The place was nearly standing room only.
I squeezed into a chair next to Bob and leaned over to him. "Did you hear?" I whispered.
He responded how he always responds to me - staring at my chest. He answered me with his eyes still focused on my cleavage. He's not even shy about it, the prick. "What? Oh, about Elaine? Yeah, Sam told us when we got here."
I rolled my eyes and snapped my fingers in his face so he could direct his attention to the right area. "Hey. Come on. Focus." I shook my head, frowning a bit. "No, I was talking about the White Councilors coming into town. What happened to Elaine?"
It took him another second before his lifted his eyes and looked at me dead on. That's not something Bob does unless the situation is serious. Not we're out of Doritos serious. Grandma has cancer and is dying serious. "She's dead."
Just like that, the pieces clicked together for me. Of course, hearing that the most powerful vampire in the state has just died did unsettle me, but I was more concerned about what that had to do with the Councilors and Bob. "Well then that explains why the Council is coming. Who could have done -" I stopped myself and raised an eyebrow at Bob. Vampires just don't die. Not old and experienced and well crazypants vampires like Elaine. Something powerful would have to take them down. Something like a Wizard. Something like Bob.
"It wasn't me!" Bob clamored loud enough for more than one person to turn and stare at us. He stared right back until they turned back around. Did I mention he can be a little melo-dramatic? Daddy issues... I mean, yeah, I had accusation eyes going on, but what else was I supposed to think?
"Alright, alright, I believe you, keep it down. It would take something seriously powerful to kill Elaine though, so if it wasn't you we have another problem on our hands."
I could tell Bob hadn't thought of that. He gets this intense look on his face when he's thinking. I can recognize it pretty easily because he doesn't do it all that much. I let him collect his thoughts and ordered a drink.
"They will be here tomorrow morning, and they will definitely want to talk to you," I whispered. I, for one, know how to keep my voice down.
"Maybe they won't. Maybe they've completely forgotten that I exist."
"Not likely. From what I've heard, one of the Councilors coming is Janus."
Bob nearly choked on his beer. I swear some of his mouth liquid got on my arm. "Janus? You're sure?"
"No, but it seems legit. I heard it from Mo." It was only after I mentioned Mo that Bob was ready to believe me. How ridiculous is that? He won't believe me, but he'll trust a bird? A talking bird mind you. I get that they're tight and Mo is pretty stellar, but sometimes Bob just makes me want to facepalm.
"Well damnit," Bob said. Again, he was too loud (surprise!) and more heads turned our way. One person even had the guts to put their finger up to their lip and go "Shhhhhhh."
I had to smirk behind my beer glass. 3 - 2 - 1. At the end of my countdown, Bob jumped out of his chair and yelled, "Fuck you, dude!"
What can I say? He's a people person.
Part II
I knew that we would be going into danger mode pretty quickly, so I spent the next morning doing research. Something I knew Bob wouldn’t think to do. But libraries could probably be filled with that Bob doesn’t think to do. It might sound like I’m giving him too much shit, but I’m not. He’d agree with me in a heartbeat (especially if I was wearing a low cut top). Believe it or not, but becoming a wizard doesn’t suddenly mean you know everything about magical shit. There is a lot of information out there if you know where to look, because, let’s face it: most of the literature out there today is shit. Stephenie Myer, I’m looking at you, honey. First and foremost real magic isn’t how we normally think about it. If you want to get technical, it isn’t even magic at all but a manipulation of the forces of nature. The best example Bob gives is fire. All he does is pull the heat from the surrounding air and focus it on a small enough area to combust the hydrogen. Sorry folks, he’s not pulling rabbits out of his hat.
Anyway, if Bob hadn’t whacked Elaine that meant that a very powerful creature was lurking around. Most creatures (Y’know they hate being called that? The PC term is “being.” Bullshit abounds literally everywhere I tell you..) mind their own business in Neverland and never pop over into our universe. And if they do, it’s a quick trip to Cookout or Disneyland before the bounce back out again. I know what you’re thinking about Neverland and let me just stop you there. You’re right and you’re wrong. Probably mostly wrong. Don’t even ask me to explain. Honestly, I’m not even sure I completely get it. Bottom line: all those “beings” you read about it books are real. As real as you and me and sometimes that’s a fucking scary realization.
I typed up the notes I got from looking up Elaine. She died when she was 232 years old. Talk about an old bitch. She was born in 1784 up in New England and was changed at some point during the war of 1812. Turns out a soldier changed her so she maintained a gnarly grudge against dudes. So gnarly that she started up her own vampire harem of late teens and early twenties guys. She would lure the men with her good looks and give them the option of having sex and becoming a vampire or leaving. Although I’m convinced that the “leaving” option was just some kind of sick joke to her. She moved around all up and down the east coast (nomad status usually becomes the norm when you stop aging and start craving blood. Oh, and not the mention the unexplained disappearances of young men. People start asking questions you just can’t answer). Finally around 1900 she focused her efforts away from the coast and to the mountains. Far as my research suggested, she’s been hanging out exclusively in North Carolina for the past hundred years. Her lastest hunt spot has been the Triangle and why not with Duke, UNC, NC State and other colleges teeming with horny bros. Did I mention she also tried to snag Bob? Yeah. Story for another day…
Part III
Once I was finished and was mulling the information over, Bob called me. There was a long pause after I answered. “Uh.” Another pause. “I need a ride.” I sighed. This was not good news. Rarely when Bob called me was it ever good news. First of all, he was in Durham. I know Bob hates the place and would only go if forced. I figured he must have already gotten a visit from the Councilors. Twenty minutes later I pulled up to a corner in front of a BP Station. He didn’t say anything when he climbed it and once we turned the block I knew why. One of the apartments on Duke’s Central Campus had been completely destroyed. There was a massive hole where the door should have been. Bricks and other debris had been thrown everywhere. It look liked a mini tornado had stormed through but only hit one apartment.
“Lemme guess - that was you,” I said dryly, not even looking over at him.
"Why? Why is it that every time a fire starts or a building gets demolished you blame me?"
I almost ran a red light to look over at him. He had to be kidding. "Because it's always your fault. You’re a fuck up.”
"Touché, but this time I wasn't the person who put the hole in the wall."
I raised my eyebrows and waited for him to explain the entire story. Turns out he was with Janus and another Councilor named Chuck to investigate the murder scene. Before too much could happen, shit when nuts and they got attacked by a Sasquatch. Janus dipped out and Bob only managed to get away by serving the Squatch with a nut-kick. Mo also got his fair share of drama as well.
“What a douche,” I said when he was finished.
"Who? Me, the Squatch or Janus?"
His question was one I actually had to think about. "Um, all of the above. You're a douche for leaving Cornwallis there."
"He made it out before the cops came. I made sure of it, plus, that jackass had it coming."
I continued as if he didn’t even open his mouth. It’s a bad habit I’m not trying to kick. "The Sasquatch is always a douche, so I can't really blame him for what happened. And Janus is the biggest douche of all for bitching out like that."
"Well I can't disagree with you there." It was quiet for a little bit. I looked over to Bob and he had this thinking face on again. I frowned. This was some h-core stuff and I was quickly becoming not a fan. Finally he said, “Why does everyone think I did it?"
I honestly had to stifle a laugh. "Even your stupid ass can work this one out. You're the only really logical suspect, Bob. One, you're the most powerful wizard in the area. She tried to convert you, so two, you had motivation, and Elaine wasn't all that high up in the ranks of vampires, so she doesn't make a sensible target for any of the White Council wizards. Three solid reasons that mean you’re the only logical choice."
I took his pause to mean he was acknowledging that he knew I was right. But I’m always right and the poor fuck knows it. I understood why the Councilors would want to keep their eyes on Bob, but having one of them be Janus really threw a monkey wrench into the whole thing. Bob and Janus get along as well as Westboro Baptist Church and the cast of Will and Grace.
"So all of this circumstantial evidence points at me," Bob said. "And all of the physical evidence which would have exonerated me was most likely destroyed when the furball of doom come knocking. What does this mean for me?"
"In a nut shell," I paused for dramatic effect, and gave him the sexist most malevolent smile I could muster, "you are fucked."
"You don't have to look so pleased about it."
I gave him a more natural smile and patted his knee. "Of course I do, this is the first time we've spent a significant amount of time together in which you haven't stared at my boobs or tried to ask me out. I am all for you being in mortal peril."
Mortal peril was a terrible choice of words. His thinking face turned into moody teen angst face.
“You stop that moping,” I said after a few minutes of enduring the silence.
"I'm not moping, I'm brooding. Wizards don't mope, we brood. It sounds more bad ass."
I scoffed. "Yeah? Well your brooding is depressing me, so stop it, and do something to fix the situation."
"Like what?"
I literally had to facepalm. "You could find the real killer, dumb ass." My best friend is a wizard and an idiot. Opposite ends of the awesome spectrum rammed together into Bob Burns. I think I have shit luck.
"I would rather lay low though, try to ride this one out."
"Jesus Christ, Bob, you're just being lazy. Get your shit together, and lets find out who did this." I made sure to make eye contact with him as I said it. Neither of us is much for that sappy shit, but he had to know he wasn’t alone in whatever the fuck deep shit he was in.
"Fuck you. Fine, but at least let me take a nap before we do anything, I'm exhausted."
"Baby," I said derisively, shaking my head.
"Bitch," he replied back to me with even more derision. I laughed and looked over to see him grinning broadly at me.
***
I followed Bob up to his apartment. Naturally, his roommate was plopped down on the couch playing video games. We exchanged head nods when he looked back over us again. “Shit, Bob, you look….”
“Like death?” Bob interrupted. He rolled his eyes while I tried to find a spot next to Kenyan that wasn’t covered in junk food crumbs. "I know, multiple people have told me."
Kenyan shook his head. “Nah, man. Actually I was going to say you look like you got into it with a mountain lion. And lost. What the hell happened?”
I hadn’t really checked Bob out when he got in my car, but looking him over, he really did look like the Grim Reaper’s bitch. His shirt was little more than a rag with partial sleeves and his jeans had several huge slashes through them. What clothing was left was spotted with dried blood. “Gross,” I muttered.
"Sasquatch, actually,” Bob replied. “Where is the first aid kit? I need to clean this out."
"In the cabinet by the fridge, but seriously Bob, what the hell happened to you, dude?"
"Seriously dude, Sasquatch."
"Fine, don't tell me, I'll get Boots to tell me.” He’d been carrying on the conversation and playing at the same time, but paused to turn towards me. “Boots, what happened to Bob?"
I’d been half listening to their exchange wondering how much more expensive my dry cleaning would be after subjecting myself to their furniture. I wasn’t surprised that Kenyan didn’t believe Bob; he never does. I’m not sure what Kenyan thinks Bob is on when he talks about being a Wizard and everything but he refuses to believe it. I’ve tried convincing him and Bob has even done magic in front of him, but he prefers to play dumb about it.
To his credit, Mike Kenyan has perfected the art of playing dumb. He’s been an undergraduate at NC State for longer than most celebrity marriages. He’d be a career student if he went to class. He’s a less glamorous, ambition deprived, real-life Van Wilder. I can’t fault him for wanting to stay in college forever, but seriously, the party has to end sometime. But his parents are footing the bill and he’s a grown man – let him do what he wants.
I met Bob’s eyes briefly before looking at Kenyan with the most serious expression I could muster. I spoke slowly so he could get the full gist of what I was trying to convey. I even paused between each word, although I nearly laughed from how wide his eyes were. “Really. Rough. Sex."
Part IV
“Fuck you!” Kenyan declared, turning red. “Fuck both of you!” he said to me while I was blatantly laughing in his face. I shrugged. “You’re the one that doesn’t believe us,” I said when I managed to catch my breath. “You walked right into that.” Kenyan didn’t look at me, obviously sulking from having been the brunt of my joke. I gave him a side hug while Bob went to go change. “Aw don’t be such a bitch about it.”
When Bob walked back into the room the phone rang. Bob answered but immediately hung up. I raised my eyebrows at him then the phone rang again. “Fuck you, jackass,” Bob said into the receiver and I frowned. Kenyan was gawking at Bob with his mouth hanging open.
"My brother," Bob explained with a smile. I groaned. That was not good news. Nor was the third call that went unanswered. Or the fourth that caused Janus to actually leave a message on the machine. Obviously that fucker could not take a hint. His message was cryptic, even for Janus. First he apologized to Bob then warned him to stay at home.
What the fuck?
I was legitimately freaked out and it didn’t even occur to me to hide it. Things had just skyrocketed to Dennis Rodman weird and I hadn’t been prepared for things to move that fast. Janus and Bob hate each other – and not in that typical sibling rivalry way. So either Janus was pulling Bob’s chain about things being dangerous or he was actually concerned about Bob’s well-being. The latter made somewhat more sense. Sure, Janus is a jerk but I wouldn’t call him an immature jerk. He would just say something like that to fuck around. Right? This was definitely not a good look for us. At all.
I looked away from Bob to focus on what exactly was going on and how we should deal with it. Bob could just hole up in his apartment and let whatever shit go down without his involvement or whoever sent the Squatch after Bob could have his hands on Janus. Staying in could also potentially be a trap. I need to pick better friends.
"I thought you said your brother was a douche," Kenyan asked Bob, obviously confused about that the fuck was going on. That lucky ignorant bastard. It really is bliss.
"He is," Bob replied
"He didn't seem that bad. I mean it sounded like he was trying to protect you."
“Exactly."
"Umm... What?"
"If my brother, who actively hates me is trying to protect me from something it means either something so big and bad and nasty and fucking scary is after me that he is afraid it might try to kill the entire family..." Bob said trailing off.
I lifted my head up and finished his thought. "Or that the big nasty thing already captured Janus and is using him to keep Bob in one place so he is easier to take out.”
Once again, Kenyan was not convinced. He looked at us like we’d just switched bodies or something. "You guys really believe something is after you, don't you?" he asked Bob.
Bob nodded. "Yes, and no matter which of the two is happening we need to get the hell out of here before shit starts exploding."
I was about to agree but it turns out that Bob is fucking Nostradamus. I hadn’t even opened my mouth when a hand grenade smashed through the window. I was stunned to see it that I actually watched it roll through the open bathroom door. Then shit started exploding. Literally. Exactly as Bob predicted. I really need some new fucking friends.
Part V
As unprepared for the situation as I was, the second before I heard “BOOM” I went into auto-pilot and my adrenaline took over. I’ve been in some terrifying situations with Bob before so at least I had some idea of what to do. Poor Kenyan. I think the guy pissed himself at one point during the entire ordeal. No bullshit. And I don’t blame him one bit.
I tackled Kenyan behind the couch so we could hide. He was struggling with me like I was trying to attack him. I have no idea how drowning victims are rescued - what with their thrashing and clawing and overall impending of the saving process. Kenyan was jerking around and muttering intelligible curses in much the same way. Panic will turn you into quite the pussy. I might have slapped him. More than once. “Calm down! Calm down, goddamnit. Seriously, Mike.”
I think calling him Mike did the trick. Terror will fuck you up, but going batshit about it is not the way to handle it. I think his mother (and maybe his girlfriend) are the only people to call him Mike. He knew I meant business. Lord knows what would have happened if I busted out "Michael."
He finally stopped squirming underneath me, breathing like an 85 year old cancer patient who still smokes a pack a day. “Fucking relax,” I commanded. I even gave him a smile. “Your girlfriend will understand. I’m straddling you just for protection purposes.” He only nodded. I guess I’m lucky he didn’t throw up. Unlike his roommate that one time in Boone….
Anyway.
The explosion knocked the couch backwards on top of us, squishing me into an even more questionable position with Kenyan. At least he showered that day. Times like that you have to find the little positive things.
My ears were ringing and as much as I liked Kenyan, I was not cool with being sandwiched with him underneath the couch. I was ready to bail. And fast. Not only does he have a girlfriend, but he didn’t even buy me dinner first. There wasn’t that much room to move, much less get enough leverage to push the damn piece of furniture off of us. It didn’t help that Kenyan was still more or less in shock. I gave him five minutes before I slapped him again. He finally came to his senses at the 4 minute mark. He’s not all stupid.
I also didn’t know that more than just the couch was keeping us trapped. All of the contents had more or less been dumped on one area. Directly on top of us. For fuck’s sake. I focused my mind on the tall glass of beer I’d get when I got out of that (literal) mess when I heard a roar. Motherfucking Sasquatch. “You believe us now?” I snarled to Kenyan while kicking at the couch. He gave me a helpless look and joined in the kicking.
As soon as the couch fell over off of us, pieces of drywall from God knows where collapsed on our heads. “My outfit is ruined! Somebody is losing their balls tonight!” I cursed getting more frustrated and angry at the situation. “Use your fucking magic, Bob!” I yelled extracting myself from the rubble. That fucker wasn’t anywhere in sight.
Shit.
But Sasquatch was.
Double shit.
Part VI
I looked around the living room in vain, hoping that Bob was still somewhere in the room.
He wasn’t.
The only other place he could have been was his bedroom. Which was all well and good except for the fucking massive ass mythical creature that was trying to kill us. That same fucking massive ass mythical creature just happened to be standing between Bob and I. That also meant Bob was trapped inside of his room with no way out. I didn’t even have time to bemoan my shitty situation and fantasize about the beers I would be having later. It was ass kicking time.
Bob doesn’t know that I keep a few friends in his apartment. And by friends I mean high-powered assault rifles. I know Bob and Kenyan aren’t smart enough to ever find them and are stupid enough to get into situations where I’d need them. I don’t like for this stuff to come in handy, but with Bob you never know.
I sprinted over bits of debris and Kenyan’s still shocked form to grab one of my favorite friends. It was a sawed of shotgun that may or may not have been at an illegal length. I’d hidden it in the cupboard behind the poptarts and cashews. I made sure to keep the food stocked in order to keep the gun hidden and also to keep the guys from starving. Iron Chefs they are not.
At this point I could see the Squatch moving around in Bob’s room. But again, I couldn’t see Bob. I was about to call out to get the neanderthal’s attention when I heard a crash. Breaking glass. That could only mean one thing – the window. I let out a deep breath and silently thanked myself for being so smart and for Bob trusting me. I’d pat myself on the back more later, but now wasn’t the time. Luckily I wasn’t the only one startled by the noise and for a moment the Sasquatch was confused. That moment was all I needed. “Hey furface!” I yelled out, leveling the shotgun at his chest. “You wanna play big boy?” I gave him my best smirk and cocked the gun. “Then let’s fucking play.”
