Choices, Part 24

by john | Jun 24, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen

“I’m sorry.” It was almost a whisper, and I couldn’t see her lips move, but I knew she had said it.

“Sorry? Sorry for what? My Choice hasn’t even happened yet. What do you have to be sorry for?” I kneeled on the floor in front of Eve and tried to look her in the face, but she wouldn’t meet my eyes.

“It wasn’t supposed to ever come.” She almost spat. “The whole point was so that you wouldn’t have to choose. That was the deal. Now the bastard goes back on his word after all these years. I should have known he was just saving it up for when it really mattered.”

“Okay, I’m confused. Cain, do you have any idea what she’s talking about?” I stood up and set my Red Bull down on the counter.

“Yeah. I do.” He murmured.

“Well, would you like to explain things, since your mother obviously isn’t capable of it right this second?” I was getting a little loud, and took a deep breath to try and control my volume. Things wouldn’t improve for us if we were reintroduced to New Orleans’ finest.

“No.”

“Excuse me? What did you say?” I lapsed into the incredulous parent voice. You know the one. The one where the middle name is unstated but understood. The one where the recipient immediately understands that he or she is grounded for the next century if their next answer isn’t completely satisfactory. For the record, the grounding voice loses a great deal of its impact after your child passes his fiftieth millennium.

“I said, no. This is on the list of things that I can’t talk to you about, Dad. And you’re just going to have to take that one how it comes. I know what Mom is saying, and neither of us can tell you about it. It has to do with our Choices, and yours, and we can’t say anything that might sway your decision. It’s one of the few rules the Father enforces directly. This is your free will, Dad. Whatever your Choice is, it’s yours. And nobody, not me, not Mom, not Emily, Lucky, Michael or the man in the moon can stick our nose in. That’s just the deal. So please don’t push. Just come with me into the den and give Mom a second or two to catch her breath. Then we can go down to Lafayette Square, pick up Myra and the assclown angel, and we’ll blow this pop stand.” He handed me my drink, walked me into the den, and sat me down on the couch next to Emily.

She looked up at Cain and said, “Are they gonna be okay in the park all alone? I mean, I’ve heard New Orleans has a crime problem, and Mom hasn’t been in cities very much.” She was obviously worried, and wanted to get going as fast as possible. Cain gave her a lopsided grin and patted her on the top of the head.

“They’ll be fine, kiddo. Remember who Michael was before he came down here slumming.” He said as he ducked into his bedroom to grab a bag.

“Oh yeah, that whole flaming sword thing’s real, isn’t it?” She relaxed a little when she realized that despite his looking like a skinnier James Marsters, he could handle himself. “But will he take care of my Mom?” A little worry crept back into her eyes.

Cain came out of his bedroom wearing a black leather jacket with a duffle over one shoulder. He tucked a pistol in the back waistband of his pants and said, “He’s an angel, punkin. A real one. He could no more let an innocent mortal be hurt in his presence than I could be upstaged by a snotty older brother. It’s just not in our natures.” He shot me a sidelong smirk and I shook my head. I’d let him poke at the scab now and then, it might heal a little messy, but chicks dig scars. I stood up and held out my hand.

“What do you want, Pop?”

“Something tells me that’s not the only equalizer you’ve got floating around this joint, and if you think you need the firepower, you’d better hook me up, too. I prefer something in a 9mm, Italian if you have it.” He went over to the upright piano, opened the bench, and tossed me a Beretta in a paddle holster. I checked the action, chambered a round, and slid it into the small of my back. “You set for ammo?” I asked.

“If he runs short I’ve got us covered,” came Eve’s voice from the kitchen doorway. “I prefer the Glock, but I don’t have the wrist strength that you boys seem to have in abundance. Here, little bit, you should just tote my duffel. If we get into anything ugly, you’ll want what’s inside.” That confirmed my earlier suspicions about the sawed-off shotgun, but Emily shook her head.

“I’m good. I don’t like guns, but I’ve got a pea-shooter in my boot as a last resort.” She then produced a throwing knife from somewhere I never saw and tossed it underhand across the room into a photo Cain had hanging on the far wall. The little knife quivered right between the eyes of the woman in the picture, and Eve looked impressed.

“That doesn’t exactly improve the composition of the photo, Baby Sister.” Cain said as he crossed the room, yanked the knife out of the wall and returned it to Emily.

“Yeah, but sometimes you just have to make a point.” Somehow I always found myself surrounded by women with a point to make. And all too often, I was at the receiving end of those points. I looked around at my little family assault team, and nodded at Cain.

“Let’s roll, son.” I said.

“Lead the way. I’ll lock up.” I didn’t bother mentioning that I thought it was awfully optimistic to be locking doors. After all, the only reason you lock a door after you leave is because you expect to return to whatever you’re leaving behind. And until very recently, my family was not exactly known for returning to things (or people) we’ve left behind.

Choices, Part 23

by john | Jun 23, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen

Chapter 5 (ish, but who’s really counting?)

Eve was sitting on the bed of a pickup truck when we got to Cain’s. Yes, I know it makes more sense to say she was sitting on the tailgate of a pickup truck, but she wasn’t. This particular truck, a late-70s model Ford with an impressive green-and-rust-patterned paint job, didn’t have a tailgate anymore. It had a rope across the bed where the tailgate used to be, and Eve was leaning against that with her hands twined through the frayed rope like a bad Delta S&M flick. She’s changed out of her stripped chic and was sporting more restrained brown cowboy boots, Daisy Duke cutoffs and a faded Faster Pussycat t-shirt with a hole under one arm big enough to show her ribcage tattoo.

“How’d you get that to stick, anyway? I’ve always had a hell of a time with ink fading after a few days.” I pointed to the cherry blossoms that lined her left side and armpit.

“It does. I get it touched up about once a week. Let’s go up, I gotta pee.” My Eve, mother of humanity, but a few steps removed from Anne Landers.

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Emily asked.

“Like a bitch.” Eve followed Cain up the stairs without a backwards glance for the girl and me.

Emily looked up at me and asked, “Why would she keep getting it fixed if it’s just going to fade? And why hurt yourself over and over again?”

“That, my dear, may very well be the essence of what makes Eve, Eve. No one’s ever accused her of taking the easy road, or the painless one, or the logical one. But once she commits to something, it’s not a good idea to get in her way. Let’s go on up, we need to grab our bags and get moving.” We followed the others upstairs and found Cain standing in the small living room looking around confused.

“What’s up, son? Mom peeing with the door open again?” I slid past him towards the kitchen and grabbed a Red Bull out of the fridge. Immortal or not, I still wanted a little extra boost if I was going to be driving half the night.

“Where are they?” Emily asked as she looked around the room. That’s when I realized that we were alone in the apartment. Myra and Michael weren’t where we had left them, which would be on the sofa. As a matter of fact, they weren’t anywhere in the apartment.

Eve came out of the bathroom buttoning her shorts and said, “What’s the holdup? Where’s the floozy and the fucknugget angel?” The snarky grin faded from her face when she saw the look in Emily’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

“They’re not here.” I said.

“What do you mean, they’re not here?” Eve said. Finally, somebody else’s turn to give the stupid response.

“Small words, Eve. Was there one in particular you didn’t understand, or was it just a general denseness that you needed help with?” I was worried about Myra, but wasn’t going to pass up one of my few opportunities to be snide. When most of the people you associate with are sharper of wit than you are, it’s important to take your shots whenever they come along.

“I get that they’re not here, asshole, but where are they?” Eve shot a concerned glance over at Emily, who was looking a little frantic at her mom’s absence.

“Saint Patrick’s.” Cain’s voice came from the kitchenette.

“Huh?” I lapsed immediately from witty to my typical eloquence as I wandered into the sitting area with him. He handed me a note in Myra’s hand.

“Don’t worry about me, Michael is showing me St. Patrick’s Church. We’ll wait for you in Lafayette Square until dawn. If you haven’t shown up by then, we’ll watch the sun rise in the park, go to the early Mass, and meet you back here. We’ll pick up some beignets for the road. Love, M.” I showed it to Emily, who was starting to show signs of early freak-out.

“It’s her handwriting, and she loves old churches, so it makes sense. Not sure why she’d go off with Michael, though. He’s a bit of a douche.” Emily looked around as Eve barked out a laugh at that last bit. I stifled my own laugh, but Cain didn’t bother.

Between chuckles he said, “She probably went out with him because we were gone all friggin’ day. Remember, we left around 11:30 in the morning to bail Mom out. Then we went to the casino, and what happens in casinos happened, which is to say we lost track of more than a few hours. Then we had our little encounter with the Prince of Fucking Darkness and meandered on back here, and now it’s well after midnight. So I’m not surprised that your mom got tired of waiting on us and decided to go off and do something on her own.”

“Prince of Darkness? This would be a really good time for you to tell me that vampires are real and Lestat really does wander the Quarter.” Eve said in a voice more concerned than any I’d ever heard her use. She actually looked frightened, an emotion I’d thought her incapable of.

“No, Mom. It was Him. He found us outside the casino and made his presence known.” Cain went over to Eve and guided her down to a diner-style kitchen chair when it looked like her legs suddenly wouldn’t hold her weight.

“What did he want?” She looked haunted, like everything since The Garden was flashing through her mind.

“He wanted to warn Dad.”

“Warn Adam? About what?” she asked.

“His Choice.” Cain told her. He sat next to her in another chair that looked like it belonged to a four-top in Mel’s Diner, but also looked just about perfect against his ultra-modern kitchen appliances. The fifties-style vinyl chairs and flecked table stood is stark relief against the iPod white of all his various blenders, dicers, juicers and other implements of destruction that would surely baffle Paula Deen, much less me, with my culinary skills leaning more towards the Swedish Chef on the Muppets than anything ever shown on the Food Network. Eve just stared at him for a minute before she looked up at me.

Choices, part 22

by john | Jun 20, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen

a little longer chunk this time, couldn’t find a good break around the 1,000-word mark. Enjoy

“We’ve gotta go.” I said after allowing myself a moment to wallow.

“Where?” Cain asked.

“I’m not sure yet, but we need to get everybody together and get ready to roll. If Lucky’s known about this for any length of time, then we can’t be sure what parts of what has happened have been our idea and what’s been his.” I dropped a five on the table for a tip and headed back to the poker room. When we got there Emily had taken her seat in the back corner, and her stacks were smaller than when we had left. There were more green chips, though, so it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I stayed on the periphery of her vision for a minute while she played a hand, and then tapped my wrist where a watch would be if I wore one. She looked at me and Cain, nodded, and picked up a couple of racks for her chips. We met her at the cashier’s cage as she was folding a nice little stack of hundred dollar bills into her front pocket.

“You boys are back early. What’s up?” She asked as we came up on either side of her. Cain and I were both looking around like our heads were on swivels, sure that we’d see Lucky leaning on a slot machine somewhere. It was useless, of course. Nobody sees Lucky unless he wants to be seen, and then you usually don’t want to see Lucky.

“Time to go sweetheart. Did you have fun?” I kept my tone light as we headed for the doors. I didn’t need any interference from casino security if they thought we were trying to muscle the girl. She picked up that something was wrong, and put her arm through Cain’s as we walked. We looked for all the world like a father and a couple of young lovebirds. I put that disturbing thought out of my head, and before anyone took notice of us, we were back out on the street headed toward Cain’s place.

We’d gone about half a block when Emily pulled up short. “Okay boys, out with it. What’s going on? Why did you come back early, and why were you in such a hurry to get me out of there?”

I could see that she wasn’t interested in waiting for an explanation, and checked off impatience as another attribute that she got from Eve. Yes, I know I credit Eve with all the character traits that I find annoying, and that I take credit for all the traits I like. She does exactly the same thing. She blames every hot-tempered moment in human history on me, from the start of wars to hockey fights. It’s a thing we do, so just leave me alone, okay?

“Well, Em, Dad and I had a little conversation and we realized that your friend Luke is someone we both know, only I knew him as Lucien, and the last time I saw him was in the 19th century.” Cain started.

“And I usually call him Lucky, and the last time I saw him was just a few days ago, when I left Las Vegas and started this whole trek.” I continued.

Her eyes got big and her mouth opened in a big, round “O” as she sat down on the stoop of the house we were in front of. I thought for a minute that it was because she had made the leap as to whom we were really talking about, and I guess that was probably part of it. But the rest of it was the fact that the son of a bitch was standing right behind me. I saw him out of the corner of my eye, and spun to throw a punch. Lucky wasn’t the pacifist that Michael was, though and he caught my fist in his left hand without so much as a blink.

“Peace, Adam. I’m just here to talk.” He purred in my ear as he slowly forced my fist down to my side. We tend to forget exactly how powerful the seraphim are when we don’t see them do anything out of the ordinary, but Lucky was strong. “Good evening, Cain. Emily.” He inclined his head to each of them in turn.

“Morningstar,” replied Cain with a nod.

“Um, Luke? What’s going on? And why did he just call you…oh.” Emily put it all together pretty quickly, then her hand flashed to outside of her pocket where the money was, as if to touch it to see if it burned her or something.

Lucky chuckled a little at her discomfort. He let go of my hand and took a step back, holding his hands outstretched, palms out at me to keep me from charging him. I had no doubt that he could do plenty of unpleasant things to me, maybe even kill me, but I wasn’t in a place to care just then.

“Relax, Big A. I’m just here to talk. And just for a minute. We wouldn’t want your little poof friend Michael to smell sulfur on you, after all.”

“Alright then, talk.” I muttered, moving slightly in front of Emily.

“That’s sweet, Adam. But really, if I wanted to hurt the child I would have done it long before you ever knew she existed. But anyway, I’m here about the Choice. There are things you should know.”

“And we should believe you why?” I asked with no small hint of sarcasm.

“You probably shouldn’t. But you shouldn’t believe everything your mealy-mouthed sword-swinging nancy-boy tells you, either. Just like me, Michael has his own agenda. And it might not have your best interests at heart.”

“Oh don’t worry. I trust him at least as much as I trust you, pal.” I spat.

“And when, in all the years we’ve known each other, have I ever lied to you?” If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought he was actually hurt at the notion. I had to take a minute and think it through, then I looked over at Cain, whose expression mirrored my own.

“Never.” I said in a quiet voice.

“Exactly. I have never lied to you, Adam. And I haven’t spent the better part of seventy-five thousand years telling you the truth, not always the whole truth, mind you, but the truth nonetheless, just to build up equity so that I can lie to you on a muggy early morning in Louisiana. So will you at least give me a chance to say my peace?”

“Go ahead.” I was actually listening, although I wouldn’t for a second put it past him to be honest for a few thousand years just to set up one huge lie now. After all, he invented the long con, as it were.

“So far Michael has been telling you the truth as well. There is a Choice coming, and it’s another major Choice. But just like me, he hasn’t told you the whole truth. He hasn’t told you what’s at stake, and he won’t. Neither will I.”

“So why bring it up?” Emily asked. “If you’re not going to explain yourself and tell us the consequences of this Choice, why bring it up in the first place?”

“My dear girl, I am the Devil, remember? Torment is kinda right in my wheelhouse.”

“Ass.” She muttered as she leaned back on the stoop.

“Adam, you always did breed the most potty-mouthed children. But where was I? Oh yes, the point. The Choice
Michael is leading you to isn’t the only one coming for you, Big A, and it might not even be the most important one.”

“What the hell are you talking about? I get the whole tormenting obtuse thing, but shit, Lucky, I have no idea what you’re babbling about.” I interjected.

“Your Choice, Adam.” He replied calmly.

“Huh?” My natural eloquence sometimes amazes even me.

“Your. Choice.” He said very slowly and distinctly, as though speaking to a particularly slow first-grader. Eve did that, too, and I can bet I know where she learned it. “Haven’t you wondered why Eve made the Choice in The Garden instead of you? Haven’t you wondered why Cain and Abel both had their Choices so early in life and after all these years, you’ve never had to make a major decision? You know, something that might affect someone other than yourself?”

“Not really, no. I figured not everybody makes the big decisions. And after this long, I just kinda figured that I wasn’t going to have to.” It sounded lame even to my ears, but it was how I’d muddled through for so long.

“Sorry, pal. The father of the human race has a Choice to make, too. And yours is coming up soon. It’s part of this whole trip, and it might be even more important than the one little Mikey has already told you about.”

“Why would he do that? Why wouldn’t he tell me I had a Choice coming? And why won’t you tell me what it is?” I was starting to get agitated, and Cain put a hand on my shoulder to keep me from going completely apeshit.

“He won’t tell you for the same reason that I won’t tell you more. We don’t want to influence your decision too soon. We both want the same thing, for you to choose our side, but we don’t want to make our case until the last possible moment so our arguments stay fresh.”

“Yeah, like there’s any chance I’d take your side in any argument.” I spat at the fallen angel.

“Of course there’s a chance. After all, Eve did, didn’t she? And by telling you a little bit now, while Michael is still keeping you in the dark, I undermine his argument before he ever makes it. Quite brilliant, if I do say so myself.”

He smirked and it was all I could do not to punch him square in the face. It helped that I knew he wouldn’t let me, and I didn’t want to end up with a sore jaw.

“So what do you want with us tonight, Lucypher?” I drew myself up to my full height and addressed him with all the weight I could put in my words.

“So formal, Adam? That was all. I’ve just been waiting for you to find my connection to dear little Emmy here, and thought that would be the most apropos moment for a chat. But now I think you probably want to be on your way, and since Eve got to Cain’s apartment about twenty minutes ago, you should probably go see if your first love and your last one have started the jell-o wrestling yet, don’t you think?” I glanced over at Cain, a little alarmed for his knick-knacks, and when I looked back at where Lucky had been standing, he was gone.

“Dad?” Emily asked from the step where she was sitting.

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“I’m a little scared.” Her voice was very small, and when I looked back at her, she could have as easily been fifteen as twenty-four. I held out my hand to help her up, and put my arm around her shoulder as we started walking through the night toward Cain’s place. Our feet splashed through things that were probably better left undescribed as we walked down the suddenly too-empty streets.

“I am too, baby girl. I am too.”

Choices, part 21

by john | Jun 19, 2009 | Fiction, The Chosen

So I realize that this is getting long, we’re in the 30,000-word range now, and it’s feeling like it’s going to be novel-length by the time I’m finished. So I guess my question now is, if I keep posting the whole thing up here, am I killing any chances of getting the thing published later? I didn’t start this journey with an idea towards writing a book, but that’s more and more what it feels like. Meh, if you wanna buy a copy when I’m done with it, you will. If you don’t, you’ll read it here and that’ll be that. Enjoy.

I sat for a moment digesting. I knew Lucky kept tabs on me, and it stood to reason that he had kept an eye on Eve and Cain, too. What I didn’t understand was why Cain had been playing cards with him, and said as much.

“Because we were making money, Pop. We were hustling mining camps for their claims in card games.”

“With Lucypher? What kind of stupid shit were you up to, son?” I started to stand, but sat down at the look in Cain’s eyes. It was a cross between shame and fear, with more than a little resentment thrown in, and a lot of it was directed at me.

“Really? Who was I supposed to pal around with, Dad?” The emphasis on the last word was heavy with sarcasm, and I suppose it was only to be expected. “I was thousands of years removed from any paternal influence, I had murdered my closest relative and best friend, and Mom was in the middle of one her nuttier periods. Besides, Lucien and I had plenty in common.”

“Lucien?”

“Yeah, that’s what he called himself then. Nobody in their right mind would play cards with a guy named Lucky, and Lucypher was a little blatant.”

“And what in the hell, no pun intended, do you think you have in common with Lucypher?” I was trying to keep my voice down in case the octogenarians sharing the buffet with us weren’t as deaf as I thought.

“The same thing that Mom does, we’ve made Choices. Look, I can’t tell you any more about it. It’s part of the deal I accepted when I made my Choice. Just let that part of it go for now, because I’ve got a feeling before long you’re going to understand it better than you’ve ever wanted to. Suffice to say that Lucky and I have spent some time together in some of the seedier parts of the world, and that we were working together in Deadwood. Of course, what I didn’t know was that Lucky also had other things working.”

“He always does.”

“Yeah. So he had been pumping McCall full of liquor earlier in the day, and telling him how Hickock had been talking about what a sucker McCall was and how Hickock had to give him money for breakfast because McCall had lost his last dollar playing cards. I never did find out what Lucky had against Hickock, but he got McCall wound up enough to walk right up behind Hickock and blow his brains out through his eyeballs. Hickock dropped his cards on the table, a couple of boys went after McCall, and Lucky stole the money in the pot while I sat there with pieces of Wild Bill’s brains splattered all over my favorite coat. After a couple minutes’ shock I ran out into the street and grabbed Lucky. I pulled him into an alley and asked him what the hell he was doing. He said that he was done with Hickock, done with McCall and done with the West. He said he had bigger things to do in Europe and needed a little seed money to get him there. He left me with half our winnings, a coat matted with blood and brains and a stupid look on my face. I didn’t see him again until Germany.”

“Germany?” I asked.

“Another time, Dad. The point is, he told me the same thing he told Emily, you never leave while game’s still good. And judging by the look on your face, he’s said the same thing to you more than once.”

“Yeah. We played Glic once or twice in France, and Lucky always had a sense for when the game was good, when you could take down a hand just by vying at the right time, and who at the table was not terribly attached to their money. I always wondered what he wanted with the money. It’s not like he needs it.”

“I asked once. He said it’s just a way to keep score. The money itself only matters in that it means something to the guy you’re taking it from.”

“That sounds like Lucky.”

“Yeah. But what does he want with Emily? He had to know who she was, and he had to know that eventually you’d find out he’d been around her, and that you’d be pissed.”

“True, but would he care? It’s not like I can hurt him, Cain. Nobody can. At least nobody that was born here.”

“No, you’re probably right. But then why mess with her? She’s just a normal kid. It’s not like she’s one of us.”

“Maybe not, but he’d know that she mattered to me, and he’s always loved screwing with the things that I care about.” I leaned back in the booth and sipped on a Coke. None of this made sense. I’d spent enough time around Lucky over the centuries to start to think I had an idea how he thought, but this had me completely stumped. It’s like he knew I’d find her, like he…I sat bolt upright as the thought hit me. “He knew!”

“Knew what?”

“He knew this was coming! He knew that we’d all get together, that I’d see Emily together, that I’d have to come for Eve, that I’d find out that he’d been messing with the kid, all of it. The bastard probably set up the whole mess in Vegas that sent me to her in the first place.” I let out a low whistle at the way he’d played me. Again. After all this time, just when I thought I was getting to a point where I could see his moves, and he’d checkmated me again.