Chapter Nineteen

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“Caleb?” I asked, my fingers itching to pull an arrow.

“Caleb works just fine,” he replied evenly, not turning to face me. “Though I’d also accept Mr. Duquesne. That’d make you Chalsarda.”

“It would,” I replied just as carefully.

“Seems to me you have something of a harpy problem,” he drawled, before correcting himself. “Well, rather you had one, I reckon.”

I studied his still form before the body of Birdie that was even now seeping blood into the sand. “So, what now? Are you to shoot me next?”

Caleb holstered his gun slowly, still keeping his back to me. “Well, ain’t seen that you’ve given me cause to. Not yet, anyhow.”

The wind was picking up now, billowing both my cloak and his duster, revealing that for his part he carried at least the two guns on his hips. “Splendid news. But just how long do you plan to stand here? I imagine someone else must have heard those shots.”

Caleb shrugged his narrow shoulders. “Nearest cops worth a damn would be coming from the La Paz sheriff’s station about fifty-five miles away. Doubt anyone else in these parts is paying attention to a couple of shots fired one way or another. Figure we got time.”

“Time for what?” I pressed.

“A drink? Maybe talk this thing through? Or we could commence with the fighting if you’re so inclined,” he opined. “Prefer not to, though.”

He turned to face me at that. Aside from his jacket and height, he wasn’t particularly remarkable. His brown hair was short, though not well kept. It was dirty and matted as if he hadn’t washed the sweat and sand from it in weeks. His stubble also appeared to be less of a fashion choice and just the appearance of someone who hadn’t bothered to shave in two or three weeks. Apart from that, he wore heavy denim jeans and a blue button-down shirt. Reputation or not, however, and even if he hadn’t just shot down the same harpy that nearly killed me only a few hours prior, I could tell this was someone who could take care of himself from the moment he turned to face me. His voice was calm and reassuring, but his body was a coiled spring. He wasn’t certain how I was going to answer, and he was prepared for any eventuality.

“What about her?” I asked.

Caleb glanced at Birdie and then back at me. “Her? Coyotes’ll take care of her, less’n you think a monster like that deserves a proper burial. Now, we getting that drink or what?”

My brow creased hearing his words. Birdie was a remorseless killer, of that I had no doubt, but from what I could gather her life was one filled with pain and anger and, on some level, I understood her. It was difficult for me to say with certainty what she deserved, but I didn’t feel that becoming carrion was it. It also didn’t feel like this was the hill I was ready to die on either. “I can’t imagine there will be much there I would care to drink. But I would indeed prefer to avoid more bloodshed if at all possible, so I will accept your offer.”

“Glad to hear it. Ever been to Don’s?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t,” I admitted.

“Me neither, but these places are more or less the same. Shall we?”

I looked at my bow and arrows and considered my appearance for a moment. “I’ll meet you there if that’s quite all right.”

Caleb took a careful step toward me. “Wouldn’t be tryin’ nothin’ funny, now would you?”

“On my honor, nothing of the sort,” I replied. “I’m just not sure I’m ready to hear a joke about how an elf and a cowboy walk into a bar.” Caleb continued to eye me until I sighed and continued. “I’ll be right behind you once I am more presentable.”

“Then we’re in business. See you shortly.”

Caleb walked away towards the bar, leaving me alone with Birdie. I decided to spend a moment examining his handiwork. From what I could gather, two shots struck the cage and the rope, before the third pierced her heart. Pierced might not even describe the wound accurately; the round seemed to have a punched a hole in her chest where her heart used to be. Her death came quickly, at least. Judging from the look of surprise etched on Birdie’s face I’d wager she never had the time to comprehend how severely she had underestimated her opponent.

Caleb was correct that there was nothing to be done for her now. Instead, I wanted a look at the blades that had ruined my favorite bow earlier. There were eight of them in total, though only three managed to survive intact. Each had the same shape and curve of a cat’s claw and had a hair-splitting sharpness that came to a tip that threatened to puncture anything it came into contact with. I couldn’t be sure of the metal, but a cautious approach to handling it told me it wasn’t iron.

I collected the three working blades and made my way back to the hotel. Our room was facing away from the lobby and the bar, so at the very least I was a bit less likely to be seen coming back. Ann was sitting up in bed, waiting for me expectantly. She breathed an audible sigh of relief when she saw me.

Neither of us spoke immediately as I removed the bowstring from my bow and unhooked my quiver. She was hesitant, but eventually, Ann spoke up. “I heard gunshots. Did you investigate or something?”

“Yes, I did,” I said plainly.

“When you didn’t come to the room right away, I thought maybe something was going on, but I didn’t want to assume and get worked up, and—”

“Ann, I need you to do something for me.” My interruption was as direct as I could manage while still speaking to her as an equal.

My friend stared at me expectantly. Pure intentions aside, what I was going to ask felt like it was manipulative and a betrayal. I had hoped she wouldn’t see it that way.

“Those shots you heard,” I continued. “We were followed. Birdie is dead. And I fear things are about to come to a boiling point, so I need to ask you to trust me when I tell you that I need you to sit out from here. That this isn’t me underestimating you, that this is just practical, and it is what we need to do. Can you do that for me?”

“Okay,” she said. Just like that, it was okay.

“You’re sure?”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” she reiterated. “I think this has been hard on both of us, but this feels different. I know that you know what you’re doing, and you’re going to do your best for us both, so yeah. I’m okay.”

I nodded in acknowledgment and stood up to retrieve the remaining potions. “In that case, I need you to do something else.” I took out the potion marked ‘Slumber’ and showed it to her. “A traditional use for this would be to render a room full of people unconscious. If one were to drink this potion, however, it would do something far more. To an outside observer, you may very well appear to be dead. You would be in a sort of stasis, the functions of your body will be slowed to a crawl. Magically. Point of fact, it would take an act of magic to wake you.”

“So, Sleeping Beauty rules but without the creepy kiss from a stranger in my sleep?” she asked.

“Precisely, and Wilma will have no issue reviving you, I am certain. And I’ll text her to let her know where we are. I do have to warn you that there is a reason we didn’t do this in the first place. The effects will be wholly unpleasant, and you’re going to feel like death for at least a week after. With your body inoperative, your mind will have difficulty understanding what is happening, and because the magic is concentrated, what you see and hear and feel is totally unknowable. I know this will be hell, but it is your best option. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

“I mean, it’s that or dying, right? Let’s get it over with.”

“Very well,” I said, handing her the potion and moving back to my bags. “I shall brew you something to ease into—”

I heard the small sound of the seal of the bottle opening behind me as I lunged in a panic at a startled Ann. “No! Why would you—?”

Ann looked hurt and confused as I snatched the potion away from her with all the speed I could manage. I gave myself the extra second I needed to let the frustration of her impulsive behavior pass. “That was my fault,” I said calmly. “I should have explained this better. If you were to drink this straight from the bottle, you would likely fall into a coma. For your purposes, this would be akin to drinking an entire bag of soda syrup without the water and carbonation, and then it leaves you in a coma. As I was saying, I am going to prepare for you a buffer to ease you into this.”

“Ah,” Ann replied with a hint of understanding. “I like that idea better.”

The immediate tension past, I fashioned together a tea of sorts that would slow the effects of the potion enough that her descent into slumber would be more of a gradual slide and less of a clifftop dive into the ocean. It was makeshift, and the taste alone could qualify as an act of aggression, but I was sure it would do the job.

Ann’s nose wrinkled at the smell, and she wisely opted to swallow as much as she could rather than endure sipping it. She gagged but did not retch, and after a coughing fit that left me feeling slightly guilty and more than a little sympathetic, she asked, “So how long until I’m, you know?”

“A couple of hours, I would hope. Just try to relax, maybe put on some music. Don’t try to fight it. I’ll be back, and I’ll have you up and fighting monsters with me in no time, okay?”

“Okay,” she replied, forcing a smile. I tucked her in and removed my cloak and put on a more sensible jacket for my meeting across the street. I was about to walk out, but thinking better of going out this exposed, I grabbed my beanie on the way out to conceal my head. The desert was cold after all; it would look less conspicuous than my natural ears.

Don’s Cactus Bar was opposite the hotel on the other side of Highway 60, and as far as I knew was the only place to get a drink within an hour from here. It was an old adobe building, but aside from that, it was much like the hotel and everything else in this town. It was largely unremarkable. But while the rest of this quaint hamlet sat in deathly silence, the bar was active and lively, the pale fluorescent lights coming from within acting as a beacon. There were two trucks in the parking lot but more than a dozen motorcycles. I had a sense of the sort of crowd that would greet me.

Caleb spotted me the moment I walked in and waved me to his booth at the edge of the room. The rest of the bar was populated by mostly dirty, tattooed men in leather. Some were shooting pool, most of them merely sat at the bar. All of them focused their attention on me, and I ignored their more salacious remarks as I ordered a wine. My options were either red or white. I opted for red.

Drink in hand, I sat opposite Caleb, who looked disappointed at my glass. “Took you long enough. And I ordered you a whiskey and everything.”

There was an extra shot of whiskey next to the glass that Caleb cradled in his hand. “I’m not in a whiskey mood if it’s all the same to you, but please be my guest. Unless of course, there is some reason you can’t drink both?”

Caleb locked eyes with me at that and swallowed both shots, one after the other. “Hell, woman! I brought you here to talk to you, not poison you! Can we pretend to be civil and just share a damned drink?”

I opened both palms in a show of resignation. “Fair enough, we can talk. What would you like to talk about?”

Caleb gestured to the bartender to bring him another, and her expression was void of tolerance in response. “Not rightly sure. What do colleagues talk about when they’re not killing each other?”

Maybe we were colleagues in the loosest sense of the word, but it was still odd for him to refer to us as such. “I suppose you could tell me more about yourself. I’ve heard stories, but perhaps you would be kind enough to offer your own accounts?”

“Thanks, darlin’,” Caleb said as his drink was brought to the table. “Fought a warlock.”

“I beg your pardon?” I asked as he sipped his whiskey.

“Yeah, 1910. Fought a warlock. Had a bounty, I aimed to collect, then one thing led to another, and well, that’s that.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to make sense of the casual way he brought that up. That wasn’t quite what I’d been asking for, I was expecting something a bit more recent. “Well, I for one don’t believe that’s that, as you say. But why are you telling me this?”

“Well, sure we’d been locked outside of time or some such in a perpetual state of aggression for ‘round a hundred years until the dimension or some such shifted and I plugged him and got out. I ain’t too good about explaining the magic side of things. But I’m telling you this because I want you to know that you’re not the only one who knows what it’s like to not be from around here.”

“I would argue that our situations are quite different,” I countered.

“Sure, different color hides, but it’s still a horse.” He shrugged. “I’m a relic from another time, and you’re from an enchanted forest or wherever it is elves come from. But we’re both making do. Thing I don’t understand is why you’d want to be wrapped up in something like this.”

I sipped my wine and considered how to answer that before deciding on sincerity. “Not by choice, I’m afraid. You’re in this for the money, but I’ve been forced into the job. If I don’t succeed, a friend of mine will die.”

“Right, you hang around them wizards and the like. One o’ them get you mixed up in all this?”

“Quite right.”

Caleb adjusted his posture and sighed. “Well, don’t think I’m going to walk away over no damn sob story. We all got burdens, but I’ll wish you good hunting all the same.”

He raised a glass, and I clinked mine to his in response. “Let me ask you,” he began thoughtfully. “Rumor has it you’re a couple of hundred years old or so. Elf blood or what have you. So, tell me, what is the strangest part of modern day for you?”

“Truly?” I whispered, leaning in a little. “The food.”

“I knew it weren’t just me!” He laughed, slapping a hand on the table. “None of it tastes right. Not even them grass-fed steers.”

“And what passes for fruit and vegetables is astonishing!” I replied.

“I remember when corn was sweet. Never thought folks could ruin corn.”

The tension between us eased a bit over the next hour. I got the impression that for everything Caleb was doing to keep up his lone wolf persona, he very well could have just wanted a break to be social with a peer. Men like him don’t tend to keep a lot of friends, and for my part, I was willing to accept his ceasefire. I was chuckling in spite of myself now as our conversation continued. “My turn. You experienced something that should never have happened. You now walk in a time that is not your own. Forgive me if this is presumptuous, but that sounds like an incredible opportunity to start over. To be anyone you want. Why would you go right back to this line of work?”

Caleb snorted in response. “Never said I went right back,” he protested weakly. Then after a generous sip, he sighed. “Hell, it’s not like I had anything to miss and I ain’t never done anything different. Fought monsters for money then, might as well fight ‘em now. Y’all got cars and smartphones and what not, but mostly things haven’t changed. Least of which being the things that go bump in the night. You must know what I mean. I’ve always been full of fire and you got it in you too.”

“But why this job then? Why these people?” I asked. “Debbie’s not a monster.”

“Battle Born has a name then?” Caleb raised an eyebrow at that. “That’s a new one.”

“Yes, she does. And while I have no doubts that your skills are impressive, if you know what she is, you have to know that you don’t stand a chance of defeating her.”

“Don’t know about that,” Caleb mused. “She’s been disconnected long enough that she’s damn near mortal. I imagine you wouldn’t have taken the job either if that weren’t the case.”

I would have sworn I didn’t so much as blink as he said that, but Caleb’s eyes widened in understanding as he looked at me. “You don’t know about that, now do you? Well goddamn, girl, look at that! I know something you don’t know. You didn’t just think you could wound a Battle Born at full strength, now did you?”

My cheeks began to flush at his accusation. In fact, I did think as much. I know how they came to be, but that didn’t give me the impression that they were invincible. If Debbie was an example of one that had been weakened, I shuddered to think about what they could do at full strength.

“Don’t worry about it none, ain’t no one but the almighty that can know everything. You learn something new every day. Speaking of which, I heard about your tussle in Hawthorne. Have a souvenir for you of your handiwork.”

Caleb reached into a pocket of his duster and produced a plastic resealable sandwich bag with a bloody bandage inside of it. “A ways back at a rest stop I had a chat with this college-bound kid. Car full of dirty laundry and dreams. And you know what he seen not ten minutes prior? A van full of weirdos and a giant woman. And it just so happened they left this in the trash. You must have really tagged her something good I take it.”

He gave the baggie a little toss into the center of the table and stood and stretched his back the way one does at the end of a long day. “You realize what this means, now don’t you?” he said, leaning towards me. I kept my eyes locked on his, revealing nothing. Still, he grinned and said, “Then we have an understanding. Now, if you’ll excuse me, you see those men that been eyeballing me all night? They call themselves the Howling Pythons. Not so sure they understand all that much about pythons. But what they do understand is running meth through Arizona, and I’ve had enough whiskey that I think I can take ‘em. See you around, Chalsarda.”

As if it were the most casual thing in the world, he walked right up to a potbellied member with a beard that looked to be made of tumbleweed and headbutted him on the bridge of his nose, pretense and banter be damned. Chaos exploded behind me, but I ignored it. It wasn’t my fight for one thing, but more importantly, Caleb had left me alone with a remarkable prize.

A bag with Debbie’s blood. Fresh blood of a Battle Born.

***