Part XXII

A couple of beers and Carl had returned to what passed for normal. There was a bit of a panic when he ran out of corn nuts, but I had him covered. I always had him covered.

I hadn't intended to tell Carl the bits of the story I'd left out earlier, but now that he was this deep in he deserved to know. He sat silently for about ten minutes after I finished, then he said what only Carl could say.

Dude, that's fucking boss.

Then he paused a moment and before he could open his mouth again I shut him down. I knew where he was going.

No, I'm a Wizard, not a Djinn. I don't grant wishes.

That's OK, it's still pretty boss.

The evening had begun to set in when I told Carl I need to go talk to someone and get some answers. I'd done little to find out who'd killed my Uncle in the past few days due to having to survive. But the Reapers had finally scampered off when nothing fun happened and I was getting a little cabin fever.

Em said she'd rather I left the water on for a bit longer and I told her to make herself at home, as much as a non corporal spirit could. I though about taking the van but then decided we should probably take Carl's car instead. As much as I liked the van it was a bit showy.

I took the keys out of Carl's hand before he could even think about driving and we burned out of Island Home. As we passed the pillars at the entrance I mumbled under my breath, setting a proximity alarm of sorts that would let me know if anyone who didn't belong came in while I was out.

The lights on the Henley Street bridge flickered on as we crossed and I kept to the right and took I-40 west. Most people who lived out here preferred to go downtown rather than to West Knoxville, but I'd grown up in West Knoxville and so I had a fondness for it.

The place we were going was a little bar off of Northshore. It sat between a bike shop and an upholstery store that never seemed to be open. If you didn't know where it was you'd most likely pass it. The sign that hung over the front door said it was an English Pub, but that was a load of bull. They didn't even have a deep fryer and the closest thing you got to fish and chips was salmon dip and pita bread, but it was good dip.

Union Jacks was where I spent most of my free time. I'd found it one day while tracking down a kid who'd been fencing artifacts to stupid people. One of the people who'd bought something off of him tried to use it in a summoning ceremony. That wasn't the problem, the artifact was genuine, the problem was that what they summoned was hungry.

I'd been asked by a friend of mine on the force to help track the thing down. She didn't exactly know what I was, but she knew I was good at tracking things down. The rest of the cops thought I was a phony psychic or something, but she always got her man, or thing. In the end we had to shave a dead dog and pump its stomach full of bits of the kids so the truth of what it'd been would stay hidden. Knoxville's a Baptist town, they like their hell where they can't see it.

It was a slow night, which was perfect for me. I hated crowded bars, and I hated this bar to be crowded even worse. This was my living room.

Bruce's wife was behind the bar when Carl and I walked in. She was pouring a Guinness with an odd smile on her face. She was German, so her name came with an umlout. She was also a Witch of the first order. I peered over the tap to see her finish the head with a little drawing in the foam. It wasn't a clover though.

Trouble?

She looked at me smirking.

Not anymore.

She walked the beer down the bar and set it in front of a guy who looked like he'd been there since open. They're a beer bar and don't open until 4, but some people drink fast, and then come here.

The guy turned around and looked at the Guinness.

What the fuck is this?

It's on me sweetheart.

Well if it's free then.

The guy grabbed the beer and took a sip and she walked back toward me like the cheshire cat.

What'd he do to deserve that?

He called me honey.

Fair enough.

The rune she'd drawn on top of the Guinness was going to make it turn into a semi solid before it reached his colon. It'd eventually work its way out, but it wasn't going to be fun. It was a very old bar trick and it only worked with Guinness, because it was the only beer you could draw in. She'd been kind though. I'd heard of a guy in Ireland who went home one night from a pub after making unwanted advances toward the owner's twelve year old daughter. They found him the next day covered in a green moss that'd eaten him from the inside out.

What'll you have Aubrey?

We'll have a couple of Table Rocks.