Wildcat Wizard Books 4-6, page 14
Comes to something when you can't even flick a cigarette butt at an angel without blowing up a damn street.
My back felt achy as hell but I wasn't on fire, hadn't broken anything important, or unimportant either, and was still alive, so it could have been worse. I clambered off Vicky with a lot of moans from her which was just damn ungrateful, and pulled her to her feet. "I think we should go see Ivan. Right now," I said, staring around at the fires, expecting something to come screaming out of the flames being very annoyed.
"Me too."
We scarpered, ran for ten minutes to get away from the scene of the crime as sirens lit up the streets and converged on the chaos. Down a quiet road, I used my wand to unlock a car, started it up, then drove slowly and carefully through the city to get rid of the book, and the damn angel, once and for all.
I swear, we nearly made it, we really did, but my phone rang and I answered it. It was George.
I listened, then said, "Okay," and hung up and glanced at Vicky.
"What? What's wrong? Oh no, it's the girls, isn't it? Are they okay? Have the police found out? Do they want to arrest me?"
I wound the window down, the stench of smoke clinging to our bodies making it hard to breathe, let alone talk. "It's nothing like that, but we have to go home. Now." I dropped down a gear, swerved in the road, then put my foot down and drove as fast as I could.
I was never going to get rid of this damn book.
Back and Forth
"What's happened?" screeched Vicky, the sound piercing my skull like an ice-pick through the ear.
"The girls are freaking out. They woke up and George can't calm them down. They're screaming and shouting and asking where you are. They want to know if their dad is going to take you away, if you've left and they won't see you again. George said they're just scared and out of sorts." It was about as gently as I could put it, when what George had basically said was they were utterly freaked out and crying and screaming and terrified beyond belief their parents had abandoned them. George was really worried, and she had less experience dealing with children than me, so she was at a loss regarding how to handle it without making things worse.
"Those poor children. What have I done, Arthur? What have I done?"
"You did what you thought best," I said, not knowing what else to say. Vicky had done a very, very stupid thing. She had killed their father, right there in the street. I didn't think the girls had seen, didn't think they'd connected the dots, but they could sure as hell come up with any number of wild scenarios of what had happened, even if none were as bad as the truth.
Or maybe they knew, had figured it out, and just couldn't accept it so were losing the plot. Or maybe they really were just scared their dad would come and cart them off, or take Vicky away, and they'd never see their mum again.
See, this is why I was loath to have a partner. I had enough crap to deal with in my own life without headaches like this—at least that's what I tried to convince myself of. People are, when you get right down to it, a bloody nightmare.
But I drove fast, took chances with keeping the location of the gate hidden, and only ditched the car a few streets away, something I would never normally contemplate. Then we ran back, went inside, and hopped straight through the gate.
At the barn, we jumped in a battered Volvo I didn't even remember parking there, then I hammered it through the dark lanes back to my farm with Vicky growing increasingly mental and louder the longer it took.
Outside the farm gate she was out the door before I'd even stopped so I parked up, turned off the engine, and chased after her before she did herself some damage without even getting inside.
I needn't have worried as the security lights were on, highlighting the cobbled courtyard. The front door was open, light spilling out, and George was running around in her Mickey Mouse pajamas chasing after the girls still in their clothes. They screamed and ran madly in all directions, hyper and scared, acting like someone was after them with a large cleaver rather than George sporting Disney night attire.
Vicky was fumbling with the catch to the gate, utterly panicked. I lifted the latch but put a hand to her shoulder before she went off on one. "Just be cool. Don't excite them. Act calm and natural and they'll be fine."
"Arthur, don't try to teach me how to look after my kids. You aren't an expert, you didn't even know you had a daughter, so don't interfere."
"Ouch."
"Sorry, sorry, oh my gosh, I didn't mean that. I'm so sorry."
"It's okay, go get 'em."
I watched as Vicky went to calm her children down. Truth be told, what she said cut pretty deep, hurt more than I'd expected it to. But she wasn't herself, so I understood. Kind of.
Ten minutes later, the girls were inside, Vicky was reading them a story up in the spare room where they were tucked up in a double bed, with a glass of warm milk each, and George and I were in the kitchen.
"You look terrible," she said, handing me a welcome cup of coffee.
"I feel worse."
George sniffed and frowned. "And you've been smoking," she accused.
"I won't ever do it again, those things are dangerous," I muttered. How could she tell over the smell of the smoke from the fires? Faery powers or just suspicion based on past experience? The mysteries of daughters.
"You're giving up?"
"What? No, I meant I'll just have the one here after dinner. Are you nuts?"
"Whatever. So, what's been happening?"
I filled her in on all that had happened, my head spinning so much I wasn't sure if I'd told her what happened after I'd seen her and Sasha earlier, or not. Apparently I had, so there wasn't that much to tell. I left out the bit about me setting the suburbs aflame, figured she'd only tell me off about the smoking again and have the perfect excuse to give me more grief than she already did.
In a panic, my head shot up from where I was admiring the coffee, and I said, "I should go. I've still got the book, so this damn angel will be after it soon enough."
"I don't think so, not here anyway. Sasha and I really beefed up the wards while you were gone. Gotta protect the girls, and us."
"Oh, wow, that's great. Thanks." I reached out with my mind, sending feelers around my house, and sure enough, the place was a fortress. It had been well protected before, but you can't protect against everything or you'd never get in and out yourself. The more I explored, letting the magic talk to me, the more I understood just how adept my daughter was becoming. The new layers of protection had her essence to them, a combination of youthful exuberance and innate patience combined with Sasha's timeless experience and expertise created something unique, and very protective. They'd done a fantastic job. How Sasha knew what to do to guard against angels I had no idea, but she was a resourceful woman and had a lot of knowledge about a lot of things.
"You should go to bed," said George, taking the mug from my hands as it began to slip.
"Can't, too much to do. Gotta go see Ivan."
The next thing I knew, I was lifting my cheek from the cold table, it was light out, the birds were singing, and two excitable children were tugging at my arm saying they were hungry and what was for breakfast?
I rubbed at my face, realized it was six in the morning, and everyone else was asleep, and said, "Don't young people need their sleep?"
"You're so silly, Uncle Arthur," said one of the sprogs, my eyes too unfocused, my ears too blocked, my mind too dulled for me to tell which. "We had a lie-in. What's for breakfast?"
"Yes, we're starving," said the other tiny terror.
Then I was regaled with a chorus of "What's for breakfast?" over and over, as two mini-menaces danced around me full of the joy of youth, the night forgotten, and poor old Uncle Arthur tried to remember where the cereal was as he was befuddled and couldn't think with the kids talking non-stop.
After a little rummaging, I made the girls their breakfast, fixed strong, almost myocardial infarction-inducing coffee—always use medical terms, you'll take it more seriously—and we all sat down. I tried not to freak out about the spilled milk and cereal on the table and we chatted about all the things they could do on the farm while they had a little holiday with us.
Vicky stumbled into the kitchen bleary eyed and yet smiling, obviously for the sake of the kids.
"Oh my God, what have you done?" she squealed before saying good morning.
I shot up, ready to blast. "What? What is it?" I gasped, dripping coffee down my stubble that was fast turning into a beard.
"You gave them Cheerios? Are you mad?"
"It's just cereal," I protested, as the girls wolfed it down eagerly, speeding up before Vicky took it off them. "You traitors," I accused. "You said this was what you always had."
"Haha, gotcha," came the smug chorus of a reply. They both beamed at me and I smiled. Who could stay cross at them?
"Arthur, I told you, they have a healthy breakfast. Nothing full of sugar. Porridge, or granola, something like that."
"What the fu… er, what's granola? Sounds like something you line your driveway with."
Vicky scowled, saying, "You need to get out more."
"I'm always out, that's the problem. Anyway, be my guest." I waved at the kitchen, then realized what I'd done. "Um, never mind. You take it easy. What do you want me to make? You sit down, relax."
Thankfully, she did just that. My nerves weren't up to watching Vicky dismantle my kitchen and spill liquids over every surface.
"It's fine, these two rascals have finished anyway." Vicky smiled at the girls then leaned forward and they all kissed.
"Can we watch TV?" asked the future ruler of the Universe with an evil glint in her eye mirrored by her sister.
"Sure," I said.
They shot off their chairs and ran to the den faster than me knowing I had a date.
Vicky sighed and said, "You really do have a lot to learn about kids."
"Huh?"
"They never watch TV in the morning."
"Why not?"
"Because, er, they just don't. It's bad for them."
I scratched at my wet beard. "Why? If you let them watch it other times, what's the difference?"
"There just is one."
"If you say so. Maybe you've got some things to learn too," I said, smiling.
"Shut up, and make me a coffee."
See, this is the problem with house guests. Bossy as fuck and they mess with your routine. And your kitchen.
Peace
By late morning the house was in disarray. I'd cleaned the kitchen three times then given up, the chickens were fearing for their lives, the pig was fatter than it had ever been, and there was mud in my hallway.
Then, oh bliss upon bliss, everyone left. I said I'd take Vicky to file the report, help her get her story straight, but she said she had it all figured out, knew what to say, and would rather George took her. Guess she wanted female company, which suited me fine. She even sent the Cleaner her money without breaking down, which made me proud.
George said she'd take the girls into town while Vicky went to the police station, and she promised to keep my name out of things, not to say she was staying here, and would give the police her mobile number.
So it was, and I must admit I was greatly relieved, that I had the house to myself. It was quiet, it was peaceful, it was, what did the kids say at this time? Amazeballs? Can I say that? I can't, can I? Oh well.
But the silence and almost instant relaxation were short-lived, for by the time I'd mustered the courage and cleaned the kitchen to a proper standard, and stopped muttering about the many pitfalls of house guests, my mind was whirling and my stress levels were through the roof. What was my problem? Cleaning the fucking kitchen when Cerberus were after my blood, the vampires were waiting for their book, and the damn book was bait for a pissed off angel that had been haunting me since before I'd even stolen the damn thing.
I thought back over the whole sorry mess, standing there with a cloth in my hand in my now sparkling kitchen, and for the first time in a very long time I wasn't sure what to do. Events had finally caught up with me, overwhelmed me maybe, and I was indecisive and unsure of myself. It wasn't like me, but too much had happened, and I'd been going too long with too little sleep. Insomnia is a killer, literally, and it had killed me several times already because I couldn't think straight or act in a rational manner being so damn tired. This was worse. I was beyond sleepy, way past the merely physically tired. I was mentally exhausted, psychically strained, tired right down to my crumbling bones, and running on reserves I didn't have. Even my ears hurt, which was disconcerting. Probably from all the screeching.
It wasn't just the clusterfuck of this job, it was everything else. Life. I was so stressed and so beat up emotionally and mentally because of Vicky and her mess of a life, because I was constantly worried about George and what she was getting up to with Sasha, and I think for the first time in many, many years I was growing concerned about my happiness and future. Did I even have one?
Basically, I needed a cuddle.
The chat with Vicky about me being rather reticent when it came to asking women out had seemed comical at the time, kind of, but the more I thought about it the more it rang true. I was scared of rejection, scared of having to admit I'd probably always be alone. Nobody to share my bed or my life with. Because, when you got right down to it, who in their right mind would want to spend their life with someone like me?
I stole, I fought, I killed. Not just killed, I murdered. I got into trouble, I mixed with bad company. I had bad habits, like smoking, and I was utterly obsessive. For crying out loud, I was a wizard, and magic users are always one thing above all else. Trouble.
Who would knowingly choose to be a part of that? Probably only someone as screwy as me. I hated to admit it, and had tried my best to never think such thoughts, but it was very likely that I would always be alone. Sure, there had been women, but just short-lived flings spread out over many years. And, of course, George's mother, but that had been a very long time ago. Since then my relationships had either lasted no more than a few weeks or months, or had lasted longer only because I refused to accept what was blindingly obvious. We would never make it.
So I'd given up on women for the most part. I'd had a few encounters, some warmth in the night on occasion, but even that had fizzled once George came into my life. Last thing I wanted was her to meet strange women in the house. She deserved better, something more stable, and I would not introduce her to somebody unless they were very special and I felt like there was a future for us. For all of us.
George may have been fast-approaching true adulthood, but she deserved stability as much as I could offer it, and there wasn't much of it so far. But I did my best, what I knew I could control, and that was to never let her believe she had a new woman in her life unless I was fairly certain it would be permanent.
Unfortunately, I doubted that would ever happen. Here I was, a screwed up, wild wizard in his forties who never slept, who stole and crept out in the night to go do stupid shit, who went home via a magical portal because people were always out to kill him or do something worse to him. Who would want in on that?
Just as Vicky had said, I put up a defensive barrier of joking about and acting the fool to hide my insecurity, to convince myself I didn't need anyone else. That I could look after myself and I was doing just fine, when truthfully I was lonely and scared and wanted to be loved and to love in return. Just like everyone else.
I threw the cold, wet cloth into the sink, snapping out of my reverie, annoyed with myself for letting my mind dwell on such bullshit. What was wrong with me? I was acting like a special snowflake who deserved more than everyone else in the world looking for the same thing. I didn't. If I wanted a partner, someone to share my life with, then I had to try to find that person. This was all on me, my own stupidity and overwhelming fear of failure. I'd beaten down devils and the worst of humanity, I could get a girlfriend if I wanted to.
I could too!
Time enough for that in the future. First I had to get rid of this book, help Vicky through this bad time, try to get George to open up a bit more about what she was up to so I wouldn't worry as much, and maybe, just maybe, get some proper sleep. Not crashing out at my kitchen table. Somehow it never seemed to count, never eased the tiredness.
Sleep, that was it. I should sleep. But what about the book? And the angel? The wards were up, stronger than ever, so maybe that would give us some breathing space. But the angel knew where I lived, didn't it? I wasn't so sure, didn't know how the mind of such a being worked. Did it remember coming here before I even had the book? Was that the actual entity, or was it just a whisper of the future drifting back through time?
I had absolutely no bloody clue, but I knew I was tired, knew the house was quiet, and knew it was now or never as once the women and girls were back, and their number seemed to be growing daily, I wouldn't get a wink of sleep. If I wanted to rest, and boy did I, then I should do it now.
This went beyond needing normal sleep, this was a weariness brought on by stress, and I just wanted it all to be gone. Quiet. A mini-death so I could escape.
Mind made up, at least about one thing, I stumbled like the half-dead creature I was out of my kitchen.
Then I rushed right back in, picked up the cloth from in the sink, folded it neatly, and draped it over the tap so it looked tidy. Then, and only then, did I feel even slightly relaxed.
Time for bed, old man. Alone.
Wow
I didn't even remember going to bed, but I must have walked up the stairs, undressed, and slid under the sweet, sweet covers, as nobody else was there to do it for me. I woke feeling, well, feeling great. And then as I stretched and yawned I felt bad for feeling so good. My world and that of my friends was falling apart and I was smiling and feeling like a new man. That wasn't right.
But hey, why beat myself up about it? It wasn't often I got to feel genuinely rested. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time I had. It was like I'd slipped into the skin of a fresh Hat clone. For a moment, and don't laugh, my heart went nuts as I panicked about the way everything felt, like maybe someone had done something freaky to me and I was in a new body.
