Days of the Dead Book 3: The King's Ghost

Chapter 8: I get banned from Chili's for life

Gideon
I pull into the Chili's parking lot. By now it's raining. I pull up the hood of my sweatshirt, Kit lets himself get soaked. The hostess looks at the knife in my arm for like two minutes, then just takes us to a quiet corner booth.
"This is nice, I don't remember these. What year is this?" He asks, frowning.
"2029, you like it?" I ask.
"Not really."
"It's legal to be gay now."
"It's growing on me."
"Did you have a good nap?" I ask, preparing a cloth napkin before taking the knife out of my arm.
"You're an ass."
"You stabbed me to say hello, you've not got the moral high ground, Kit," I say, nicely, considering the sentence.
"Yes, well you did send me to sleep for what? A week? Five hundred years?" Kit asks.
"Did you forget you were trying to kill me before that?" I ask.
"No, was expecting you might have if it was a hundred years. This just a normal Tuesday for you is it?"
"It's not Tuesday," I say, finishing wrapping up my arm.
"It's an expression, asshole," Kit says, putting his feet up on the seat.
"Not really actually, I have much more normal days, strive for that actually. But you didn't come here to talk about my routine," I say.
"I did since it involves visiting my mother," he says.
"How'd you know she lived there?" I ask. I might have to tell her to move.
"Asked the front desk. Damn she's old," he laughs, "I figured she was dead."
"Why?"
"Why what?"
"Why'd you try to kill her?" I ask.
"Aw, are you the good guy? Is this where Clark Kent tries to talk down Zod with some exaggerated classical bullshit about the importance of life?" Kit laughs.
"Your references are grossly dated you need to watch about ten movies, but no, nothing like that. I'm not the good guy Kit, in case you hadn't noticed I'm allied with Henry V, that probably gets me an express ticket to a special part of hell," I say.
"I think I was in hell," Kit frowns.
That's when the waitress comes. God help her.
"What can I get for you today?" She asks, really nicely.
"Salvation," Kit says.
"Two vanilla milkshakes, and two burgers with fries, thanks so much," I say, picking up our menus.
"I was looking at that," Kit says.
"You were not, now do you want something else?"
"Not especially," Kit sulks.
"You really want salvation?"
"No I'm having fun," he smiles a toothy grin, before tugging on his greasy hair, "Do you come here often?"
"To Chili's? No. To the middle of North Carolina? Also no."
"2029."
"Also no," I say, drumming my hands on the table.
"Why do you do that?" He asks, looking at my hands.
"I want to," I shrug a little, "Why'd you kill your boyfriend?"
"Oh," he laughs, "You know about that?"
"Yeah," I raise my eyebrows.
"Didn't want to be my boyfriend," he smiles, "That'd do it, wouldn't it?"
"Hm, not really."
"What? Don't tell me you're too good for murder, what fun would that be?" He asks.
"I wouldn't know I've never tried it," I say.
Of course that's when our waitress comes back with waters.
"Thank you, um, thanks," I wince. I'm not good at not talking about things like this in public.
"Thanks sweetheart," Kit says, smiling at her.
"You can ignore him, yeah, thanks."
"Your food' ll be out in a minute."
"Yeah, thanks," I nod a little, trying to non-verbally apologize for who Kit is as a person. He's licking his teeth. "It's not 1986 anymore, don't just call women sweetheart. It's rude."
"That's why I did it."
"Okay um, what is it you want Kit?" I ask, rubbing my face, "You're the one who appeared in my car. So what is it you want?"
"To kill you."
"Oh come right out with it don't buy me a drink first or anything," I mutter.
"Yeah, well. Wouldn't want to be rude. Thing is I want you dead. Have for quite a while now. So I figure you ought to be," Kit says, crossing his legs.
"Why? I haven't done anything to you," I say.
"Aw, is that how you think salvation works? You do a good deed now you get a free ticket to paradise?" He asks, snapping his fingers.
"Tell me how you think it works, then," I say, shaking my head a little. I think he might be crazy.
"Legends. Stories. You're in quite a lot of them you know. The tales they tell of us, that's all that matter. I'd like to be the man that kills a man like you. That'd make a pretty good story I should think," he purrs.
"No, I don't really think so, also you might be confusing me with something else I'm just the narrator. I'm not super important to the plot," I explain, nicely.
"You're strange," he says, sipping his water through two straws.
"I mean, yeah. That's it? You—want to kill me?" I ask.  It's not that I haven't had a meal with someone who definitely wants to kill me. It's that I'm pretty used to King Henry at this point.
"Yes," he shrugs, "Should be diverting enough. Come, there must be some things you want to do before you die?"
"They're time consuming, as a rule," I say, since my primary answers are 'spend my life with my friends' and 'watch my children grow up' and 'become a pirate'.
"Hm, shame for you. I'm right here," he says.
"What ah—makes you think you can kill me?" I ask.
Yes, that's when the waitress comes back with our food.
"Thanks, darling," Kit says, taking his plate before she can set it down.
"Thank you so much, so sorry about him, really," I wince a little. She nods at me.
"What're you looking at me for?" Kit asks, stuffing fries in his mouth.
"I did ask you a question," I say, starting to open mayonnaise packets to dip my fries into. I don't have near enough, but I'm not about to ask that waitress I'm gonna tip her 80% as it is.
"What's that? Some Welsh thing?" He asks, motioning to the mayonnaise.
"No, I think it's a me thing. My step sister and I would do it 'cause we saw it in a film we weren't supposed to watch, that you've not seen 'cause it came out after you fell through the veil."
"I was in the tomb prolly," he mumbles, past his burger. I'm currently deconstructing mine to remove vegetables and other slimy things. Yes, I do very well in medieval England thanks for asking.
"D'you know how long you were in there?" I ask.
"Because everything can be killed."
"What?" I frown.
"Your question. What makes me think I can kill you? Because everything can be killed. So you can die. Might as well be by me," he says.
"So that's it then? You want to kill me just because you think it'd make you, famous or whatever?" I ask. Is this some kind of trick? I mean I was supposed to distract him is it too much to hope he's successfully distracted himself?
"Tends to work out. Yeah, and not I've not got a lot else going. Worked out for Mordred, didn't it?" He asks.
"That's assuming I'm the good guy," I say, "I'm not. I'm no hero."
"Holding out for a hero," Kit starts singing the song, lazily, his voice rough and surprisingly deep.
"Bonnie Tyler, she's Welsh as well by the way," I say.
"Who do you think you are then?" He asks, cocking his head.
"Just a boy. Who found a magic ring, the same as you did," I say, holding up my hand, "And that made my life much better and I'm trying to do my best for my friends who were kind to me. That's all."
"I'm not going to believe that," he says.
"Well it's true. I'm—younger than you technically. I'm a millennial. I think. I'm not anyone special," I say.
"Yet they sing songs about you. You think whatever you've got going on with your face is like a common experience or something like that?" He asks, cocking his head.
I rub my face, looking away. My friends are used to it and I do try not to talk to new people. Seriously, though, everyone in the Welsh court and the English court are used to me.
"Aw, you embarrassed? Sad? Bet the girls don't like that."
"Why would I take a survey of girls to ask if they liked my face? I wouldn't have done that before the scars. Anyway, you were there the day it happened," I mutter, "You know I was just absorbing magic from those Templars."
"Didn't know that, figured it was about then. That was funny, whatever happened to those two kids the cave troll tried to eat?" Kit laughs.
Fast recap, I was lightly participating in the War of the Roses and Kit was plaguing us with monsters for I guess personal chaos reasons.
"Well, strictly speaking one of them will become King of England, and behead the other one, so you know, not happy story," I say.
"Is for the King."
"Not really he dies. Last English King to be killed in battle? Richard III? You might have heard of him?" I ask.
"Ah—no sorry, don't know much about England," he says.
"What were you doing there that day?"
"Having a lark. I found an amulet and stuff to steal, take back to that demon and that dude with the bad haircut who took my voice. And I ran into the Templars and they were on about a couple of kids being evil and they were trying to kill one. Figured I'd see if I could kill the other. Then you fucking showed up. You ruin all my fun you know," Kit says, mopping up catsup with the side of his burger.
"Sorry about that I'm ah, not going to let you kill my friends," I say.
"What, everyone in the known universe is your friend?" He asks.
"No, but that twelve year old who wanted to steal sweets and make 'your mom' jokes with his stupid friend, is, yeah," I say.
"I don't remember being twelve. Think it was miserable—oh yeah that was my Viking phase. Those idiots in the cave and I had a good laugh I think. I think we were actually near like a city then, yeah," he says, lightly.
"Would you go back?" I ask.
"Where?"
"Crusade, with Richard the Lionheart and them. You seem like you had fun there," I probe, gently.
"I'll go anywhere I like probably. I feel better than I have in ages," he says, wiping the plate with his fingers and the licking them.
"Like your milkshake?" I ask, watching as he dumps the last of his fries in it.
"Yeah, do you always eat your food in sections?"
"If I can manage yeah," I say. I don't. I wanted to see how he'd react to it. I'm not a huge fan of burgers in general I don't like how everything slides out I prefer pies these days. But he already commented on my hands figured I might as well deconstruct my burger and watch him watch me.
"You're an odd sort," he says, studying me.
"You're not the average American yourself," I say.
"Well, no," Kit winks, "What'd my mother say? Is she still alive or is she gone mad now it's 2098 or something you said?"
"Why do you ask? Last time you parted I take it it wasn't on very good terms?" I ask.
"Because I felt like it. I don't know, that's what you do isn't it. Ask after your mum?"
"Not after you've tried to kill her."
Kit laughs then, a dry, deep laugh, tipping his head back, fully relaxed as he sprawls on his side of the booth. "Question a lot of boys who commit matricide, do you?"
"Why? That's all I'm asking. I'm not judging you."
"Aw, you still think I can be the good person? Think Batman's going to save the day?" He flicks some of his shake towards me. I stop it with magic, letting the white droplets fall to the table top.
He laughs again.
I shrug a little, wiping them up.
"Let me tell you. I don't need saving," he says, leaning on the table, "I do things, because I want to. Nothing more. Nothing less."
"Is that why you're killing King Henry, then? Because you want to?" I probably shouldn't remind him of it. But like, really, he's either massively playing me or he's completely forgotten what he's doing.
"Who's that? That fellow I'm supposed to kill?" He frowns.
"Yeah," I say, "That's his name."
"Oh, right, but there were several Henries hence the confusion, stupid people all with the same name."
"Your name is Christopher."
"Like nobody calls me that though, except school people reading role," he scoffs.
"You're not in school anymore, Kit," I say, "And the point stands your name is one of the most common names in America."
"Whatever. They were both called Henry. It was confusing. Yeah, no, I'm supposed to do that sometime, or something. Or I was maybe that's not on anymore," he says, waving a hand dismissively. "I'm much more interested in talking with you."
"Why?" I ask.
"I think you're interesting."
"Because you want to kill me."
"Yeah, something like that," he says, dipping his fingers in the milkshake then sucking it off, slowly staring at me. "Something like that. Yeah. Work it out you're supposed to be the clever immortal badass who rescues fair maidens. And associated shit."
"I'm not. A fair maiden rescued me once, fun story I'll never tell it to you," I say. We were fighting, well it's kind of a long story swords were involved I was worn out from spell casting, and we were in the Tower of London never mind why, and I was mostly dead never mind why, and Rhiannon did save me from getting brained by an axe.
"Aww, did you kiss and live happily ever after?"
"No, we continued not dying. It was thrilling for everyone involved really many people were there," including her husband, she saved him too like two minutes later.
"Fine, have your secrets, here I'm trying to bring up nice and pleasant topics," he says.
"Before you kill me?"
"Yeah that. Any last requests? Fun little plans or anything you'd like to get done before, you know? Shuffle off this mortal coil?" He asks.
"I didn't take you for a Hamlet fan," I say.
"I was trying to see what the straights were so on about," he says, shrugging a little, "Didn't think it was up to much. The duel with like four casualties was funny."
"They should print that on the back," I say, nodding.
"You're not answering the question," he says.
"How about you answer it? Say you were going to die, what would you like to do this afternoon?" I ask.
"I'm not going to die. I think I'm already dead or something," he laughs.
"Okay. Then we'll do my thing," I smile.
"What's your thing?" He asks.
"So we agree you're going to allow me to do a little something as you think you're going to kill me because you're a cheap villain who is unaware of my fantastic plot armor?" I ask.
"Something like that, yeah," he laughs, "What d'you want to do?"
"Spend the afternoon, without magic. With you," I say. Maybe the magic is poisoning him somehow? Maybe I can still reach him.
"We've not used magic for hours," he frowns, "Except you stopped me getting milkshake on you but that really hardly counts."
"No. I know," I smile, as I complete the spell. I can almost do all my spells non-verbally now but it's really hard. Thankfully Kit is easy to keep talking and distracted. "And we're not going to."
"What?" He raises a hand to try to draw magic. And of course comes up empty.
"A simple spell but entirely powerful, the caster can prevent any other magic user from utilizing their power, with the simple caveat that the caster must suffer the same fate. Now we're both entirely normal," I say, smiling. To be clear, I can release it whenever I want. And that'll be soon. It's like holding back a tidle wave. He's easily as powerful as I am and I'm guessing the tomb gives him unlimited energy. Not a great thing. But I can handle it. For now he's powerless. It's a bit hard and it only works if the wizard isn't currently using magic which makes it useless in battle. But it has its applications.
"What?" He snarls, raising both hands trying to draw magic. "What have you done???"
"It'll wear off in a few hours," I say, leaning back idly. I did this to Courtenay once, completely hilarious. He was so mad. He was really mad. He knew I was doing it to myself too and he was still really mad. I had to test it. Queen Catherine thought it was hysterical and told Harry to keep me around. I quit before Courtenay's over protective violent boyfriend showed up sensing that Courtenay was sad. Which he did, within sixty seconds; it was almost uncanny. Anyway. I had to know the spell worked and it was the best Christmas present I ever gave myself.
"You bastard," he snarls, tears leaking from his eyes, "How did you—how?"
"You were so busy studying ghost summoning and invading dreams and all manner of creepy spells, you didn't go for the straight up naughty ones. Now. We're two, normal people. Let's go for walk eh?" I ask.
He lunges across the table to kill me with his bare hands.
Small set of stats for you.
Kit is maybe 5'3'' in shoes, weighs maybe a buck ten soaking wet.
I'm five nine and probably two hundred pounds, that is muscle with a healthy layer of fat.
He flies into me and I flip him over my head and he lands on the table of the unfortunate people behind us.
"I am so sorry that was a gut reaction," I say to the couple who cry out, hauling Kit off the table by one foot.
He twists away and leaps to his feet, trying to kick me in the face. I catch his foot and throw him to the ground. He grabs my ankle and I roll to the ground with him, we crash into another patron's table.
Kit crawls up me, just trying to claw my eyes out. I get my feet into his gut and flip him over my head.
"Can we not take this out to the parking lot or—-?" I ask this as he throws an entire chair at me.
I catch it and throw it back at him, which looks stupid, but it looks even stupider because it knocks his tiny rage filled self over. He screams in rage, leaping back to his feet doggedly and just trying to body slam me.
"Dude, what the hell, do you swallow bricks?"
"This may be hard to believe, but people try to kill me a lot," I say, picking him up and throwing him back into our booth, "Now can we not take this outside?"
He grabs our plates and launches them at me. They both miss, which is kind of sad, and I have to dive to stop one from hitting an innocent patron.
At this point most of the restaurant patrons are standing up, videoing, and overall calling 911.
"I am so so sorry I had no idea he was going to react this way," I tell them, as Kit jumps on my back and tries to strangle me.
"Do you always talk this much during fights?" Kit growls.
"Absolutely that's a yes, typically," I say, flipping him off my back and onto the ground, painfully, "Are you done yet?"
He gives a fierce battle cry and leaps up, hand to my throat. I deflect him onto another set of tables and he rolls to the ground. I'm about to go make sure he's okay, but he grabs the table and charges at me, screaming. I block him, stopping it.
"We will pay for your damages I am so so sorry," I call, to the Chili's manager.
Kit lets go of the table and leaps over it to just jump on my face not unlike that monster in Alien. I pry him off and throw him through the swinging door and into the kitchen. Then I give chase.
Kit landed on the stainless steel table, skidding into plate of half prepared food. The chefs were still working. Now they're not.
"Maybe like you'll get the day off? I'll get him, two seconds," I say, just ducking as Kit throws a knife at my head.
"Stop talking to them and apologizing! God! I want to kill you!"
"I noticed," I growl, making my way to him as he just restarts to throwing full plates of food. I get hold of both of his feet and just swing him into the large double door freezer as hard as I can. His body leaves a dent and he falls to the floor, amid piles of wrecked food.
And that Reader, is the story of how I get banned from Chili's' for life.
"Do you feel better now?" I ask, standing over Kit, who is lying there, just moaning. He flips me off.