Forty-five

The guy’s name was Dennis, and he was one of the instructors at the Tae Kwon Do school. It had been a total coincidence that he ran into Megan at that Barnes & Noble.

We moved our vehicles to the side of the gas station and he grabbed sodas while Megan and I sat on the curb and talked.

“Why’d you ditch me?” I asked when the crying was as dry as it was gonna get.

She looked at me sideways and shrugged. “I was scared. You took a long time.”

“Twenty-seven minutes,” I said, exasperated. “You couldn’t wait a few more minutes?”

She looked down at her hands and shrugged again. “Wasn’t sure you were really coming. When I saw Dennis, I thought that was a sign from God that I should take the gift presented and catch a ride with him instead of being ditched by my … by you.”

Harsh. I reached over and took one hand, squeezing it.

“I’m sorry I never came home.”

She started crying again. Quietly, but enough that she wiped her face with her free hand and continued to look down. Her hair was well below her shoulders now, longer than in the last picture I’d seen.

I reached over with my other hand and pushed her hair up over her ear. “Da let you cut your hair last year?”

“Ha!” she barked. “Him? No way. He freaked.” She glanced up at me “We saw your picture in the paper last year, when you saved those people from that fire. The parental units were apoplectic. They were very proud of you,” she looked up fully, earnestly. “You have to know that. Da beamed, showed the article to everyone at church.”

I found that hard to believe. “I must’ve looked like a disgrace.” The picture the paper used was one of me working at some Ren Faire event from a couple of years before. I’d been maybe twenty-three, twenty-four with the sides of my head shaved. “I bet the deacons had a thing or two to say about my picture.”

She grinned at me. “Oh, no. He didn’t show them your picture. He cut that out, just took the article. I have that picture in my memory book.” She looked down again, the smile fading. “Thanks for sending me those pictures of you and Katie. She’s really pretty.”

I must’ve stiffened because she squeezed my hand really hard until I relaxed. “Yeah, she’s awesome.”

Megan smiled at that, the grin creeping up over her face, but she didn’t look around. “Ma thinks she’s pretty, too.”

I thought back to ma visiting my apartment last fall, mistaking Julie for Katie. “She’s not freaked I’m a lesbian?”

“Not freaked exactly …” She looked up and over to her other side as Dennis reappeared carrying sodas. He handed around three tall bottles of orange Crush. They were in glass bottles, from Mexico with real cane sugar. I twisted off the cap and took a long pull. It was definitely sweet.

Megan introduced Dennis, explaining he was a third degree black belt and taught a lot of mixed martial arts in the adult class. “Good guy to have in a fight,” she said.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” I replied, giving him the once over. His hair was cropped very short, and he had wide shoulders and a broad chest. Not the tallest of the bunch, I was sure. He was maybe five-ten, five-eleven. He was cute enough, and his eyes were full of light. Excited about the world, and protective of Megan. No crush there or anything, not that kind of protective. But clan tight, like Black Briar. Different from how I assumed he was at first. It’s all about perspective.

Dennis was going to Pacific Lutheran University, getting a degree in business and finance, so he made the drive north several days a week. He’d stopped at the bookstore to get his mother a birthday present.

After a couple more minutes of introductions and examinations, he excused himself and went to sit in his car and study while we continued our chat.

“Nice guy,” I said once he’d closed his door.

“Yeah. Da actually likes him, even though he doesn’t go to our church. Says Lutherans are okay by him as long as they’re God-fearing.”

“How is he?” I asked, taking a drink of my soda so I didn’t have to look at her when she answered.

“This last year hasn’t been too good,” she said, quietly. “He’s scared, Sarah. He tries to cover it up, but I can see it.”

I glanced over at her and she was wiping the condensation off her soda bottle with both thumbs. She was staring into the distance, deep inside her own head.

“It was early last year, before the whole ‘you becoming a hero thing,’” she glanced over quick, then back down.

She was nervous.

I placed a hand on her arm and she seemed to calm down.

“I’ve heard him and ma arguing a few times. He wants us to move. Says it isn’t safe here any longer.”

“Ma mentioned that in a letter,” I said, quietly. I watched her face. She was such a beautiful girl. Strong and determined. But scared, too.

“Ma won’t go, though. I heard her tell him that if we ran, we’d never see you again.”

That was a nice surprise.

“It put him off for a few months, but last year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, some guys started asking around town, looking to see if anyone knew you.”

I stiffened. “Who?” I asked. “Did they say why they were looking for me?”

She shivered. “No, but they were ugly people, Sarah. Two men. One was gorgeous, but he had funny features, maybe Asian, but different. The other guy was a brute. Looked like he’d been hit in the face with a shovel a few times. They came by the Tae Kwon Do school and Sa Bum Nim talked with them. She’s tough as nails.”

“Yeah, I remember.”

“But she told them that you’d moved away years ago and that no one had seen you since. They didn’t like the answer, said some harsh things, but went away. Word of that got back to da and he started spinning out of control all over again.”

I could see him, angry and scared—desperate to take action. What the hell was he running from? The guys sounded like some of Justin’s cronies. I distinctly remembered killing two assholes that fit those descriptions. They’d tried to sacrifice Frick and Frack in their mad, necromantic schemes.

But they had no ties to me before I’d killed the dragon, Jean-Paul Duchamp. Da surely hadn’t been running from that bunch of crazies. We’d been running far too long to be tangled up with them. Besides, I don’t think da would’ve let us settle in Crescent Ridge if this were that close to the enemy.

No, he was running from something else. The jerks just happened to trigger his fears.

“So, about your hair?”

She ran her hand through it, pushing the bangs back over her head. “I was at school one day after we’d had a fight—”

She didn’t have to say with whom. It was understood.

“—and my friend Bonnie brought the supplies from home. We ditched algebra that afternoon and went to the girls bathroom on the second floor, you know the one?”

I’d gone to the same school, only a bunch of years earlier. “Near the language arts rooms?”

She nodded. “LeAnn watched the door while Bonnie cut my hair. She’d read about how to do it specifically on the Internet. First she braided it into several braids, then she cut it. We were sending it off to Locks of Love. She took eighteen inches.”

I smiled at her, nodding. “Impressive.”

“Then she brought out the dye. We sat there talking while the dye set in. Bonnie and I have been friends for a few years.” She paused, thinking. “She used to call us holy rollers, but only that first year we were in Tae Kwon Do together. Once we got to know one another, we became friends. Seems that most people are quick to judge.”

“Got that right,” I agreed. “Anything different is bad. Either beat it down, make fun of it, or cut it out of your life.”

She looked up at me quick. I shook my head. “Not something I believe, but I’ve seen it enough times to know it exists.”

She looked relieved. “Da has been mellowing, you know?”

Of course, I had no idea, but I let her continue.

“Ma convinced him to let me play soccer after I’d been so good at Tae Kwon Do. I’d earned it. Didn’t rock the boat too much, not like you.”

Too, true. From the time I was twelve, I fought against his worldview with every waking breath.

“Then ma and me convinced him that going over to the public high school would be good for me, how I could take some real science classes and languages and stuff.”

That must’ve been a tough battle.

“But last spring things went sideways. I got in trouble for beating up a kid.”

Woah … “Really?”

“It was Matt Abernathy. Prick.”

She blushed at that.

“What did you do to him?”

She blushed even deeper. “Punched him in the throat.”

I coughed. Geez. “You could’ve killed him.”

She looked over at me with a fierce look in her eyes. “He was way out of line,” she said, the anger fresh in her voice. “Grabbed me, kissed me. I pushed him away, but he called me a whore because of my hair and said he’d show me how men treated whores.”

My stomach clenched. The Abernathy’s were church people. Mom said Megan had been having trouble with them.

“He’s two years older than me,” she continued. “Big, strong. He was hurting me, had his big hands around my right arm, squeezing real tight, and he grabbed my breasts.” She paused, suddenly out of breath. I knew that feeling, the fight or flight. I was proud that she fought.

“He was laughing, and there were a couple other boys there, watching the doorway to make sure no one interfered.” There was a faraway look in her face then. “I think he’d have really hurt me, laughing about my purple hair and how I deserved what I was getting.”

“Bastard!” I growled.

“For a minute, I thought about letting him, you know. Just giving in and letting him do whatever he wanted. Maybe I did deserve it—”

“Megan, no.” I grabbed her shoulder, but she shrugged and went on.

“—but I thought of you, Sarah. Thought, now what would Sarah do in this situation. He’d ripped my blouse and was trying to get my skirt up around my waist when I just made my choice. I figured it was kill him, or he’d beat me unconscious. So I did the one thing I could think of.”

“Good for you.” I was breathing harder now, my heart racing. Jesus, I hated men like that. What the hell was wrong with people? I was so sick of big folk preying on the smaller ones.

“What happened then?”

She turned to look at me, a look of fierce determination on her face. “Short knuckle strike to the throat.”

There was a look of satisfaction on her face at those words. She’d bested a bully.

“His buddies were quite surprised. Matt stumbled back clutching his throat and fell down onto his knees.”

“Good for you.”

“Then I round-house kicked him in the head.”

I almost laughed. It wasn’t funny, but I imagine he did not see that coming.

“I started screaming at the top of my lungs and the other two bolted, cowards.” She had her hands clenched into fists, her whole body rigid. “I would have totally kicked their asses.”

She trailed off, but I caught the mumbled word, “… pansies”.

I grabbed her and pulled her into a hug. “I’m sorry,” I said.

She remained tense for another few seconds, then melted into my arms.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you.”

She pushed back, looking into my face. “I can take care of myself,” she said, suddenly cold. “I don’t need you to protect me.”

Ice pick meet heart. I smiled despite the pain and nodded. “Apparently not. You’ve become quite the warrior.”

The anger that had flashed onto her face fell aside and she quirked up one corner of her mouth. “Yeah, well. He was a jerk.”

“Was he really hurt?”

“Just his pride,” she said. “School expelled him, and he got community service for aggravated assault.”

“What did you get?” I asked, half afraid.

She shrugged. “Grounded for a week and a lot of thanks from girls at school who never used to give me the time of day.”

No telling how many girls the jerk had terrorized, or worse.

“He’s lucky I didn’t kill him,” she said, watching her hands. “Lucky for me, too. I don’t think I could live with myself if I’d killed him.”

I didn’t say anything to that, just sat there for another twenty minutes, holding hands and talking nonsense. I didn’t want to think about who I’d killed.

“Speaking of warrior,” Megan said, pointing to my bike. “Is that a sword?”

I looked over at the Ducati to where Gram was nestled along the side. “Oh, yeah,” I said, grinning.

“Can I see it?”

I shrugged and got to my feet and walked over to the bike. “Sure.” I flipped over the locks and pulled the scabbard and blade away, walked back over and sat down by Megan, holding the scabbard and blade to her.

“Careful,” I said. “She’s sharp.”

Megan grabbed the handle and slid the blade half way out of the sheath. Far enough to see the first couple of runes along the fuller. “Wow,” she said, looking up at me. “This is the real thing. Not for show?”

“Definitely not for show,” I said, smiling at her. “She’s the real deal.”

“Why do you keep calling her she? Does she have a name?”

I held out my hands and she handed the sword to me, handle first. I stood, stepping away from her, and drew the blade free.

“She’s Gram,” I said, holding her in a fighting stance. I doubted the name would really mean anything to her.

“Like Fafnir’s bane?” she asked.

I was surprised. “Good, yes. Like Fafnir’s bane. Where did you hear that?”

“Wagner,” she said, grinning. “We listened to a bit of it in school, so I read up a bunch. Dragons and gods and lightning and such.”

I slipped Gram back into her sheath and sat down again, holding her across my lap. “World is full of crazy things,” I said. “I like to have a little insurance, and I don’t like guns.”

She watched my face, studying me. “You were in that movie last year, right? The one where all those people died?”

“Not in,” I said. “I’m the props manager. I deal with the equipment and such.”

She just nodded, thinking. “Interesting.” I could see wheels turning in her head. Did she suspect something?

We chitchatted about nothing for another ten minutes. Eventually Dennis got out of his car and called over to us. He could get her back to town and drop her off at the Tae Kwon Do school in time for our parents to pick her up, if they hurried. Save a lot of grief.

We said our goodbyes and I watched her get in his car and drive away. She was crying again, but the tears were mixed with her beautiful smile.

Why the hell had I stayed away so long. I’d missed a lot of really good years with that one. I was so proud of her.

She was facing her demons, not like me.

I gripped Gram, the pommel feeling natural in my palm. Some things could not be solved with hammer or sword. Sometimes the only way to win was to give up the fight.

All in all it was a fucking awesome visit. I just wish I could’ve shared it with Katie. Hell, I hadn’t been out to Black Briar for a few days. It just made me feel so damned useless.

Powerless and useless. Not two of my favorite things.

But I’d go back out to Black Briar and visit Katie. It hurt to be that close to her and not be able to talk with her, to see her smile.

But I could be there for her all the same. Talk to her, tell her about stuff. Maybe it would bring her some peace?