Burning Road

Bad Luck- Part I

Cars swam past like schools of red light. He weaved in and out of the lanes with practiced ease, cutting through a sea of cars like shears through night-patterned fabric. The road was slick from repeated assault by the heavy grey clouds looming over the city. By midnight the assault would begin anew. He hoped to finish his business, and be back on the road by then.

He divided his thoughts between keeping his Ducati Indiana upright, and running through a mental inventory of the gear stuffed into his saddlebags. He visualized his bag empty, and slowly relived packing each item. Shotgun, salt, silver, cross, holy symbol, holly, hatchet, garlic. The key to keeping his concentration was to create a rhythm. It was an invaluable trick taught him by his Uncle Moses, though the old man would rage were he to hear his protege call it trickery. Officially the ability was called Two Minds, one of many talents he'd learned over the years. 

His phone suddenly rang, breaking that rhythm. The abrupt distraction dampened his grip on the mental partition. The image of his saddlebags shattered leaving behind only the turnpike traffic. The stirrings of a mild headache attempted to encroach, but he shoved the sensation aside.

"Mr. Prince, we've received your delivery this morning. Your donation has been processed."

The voice on the other side of his Bluetooth headset was cold and detached. Isis, his guild liaison, would never be mistaken for bubbly or friendly. Within the guild she was called Ice. Some claimed it was because of her cool phone etiquette, but Prince'd heard a rumor Isis had earned the name years earlier hunting.

"Tell me you have good news, Ice."

He took the next exit, and wove through traffic towards the tunnel. He'd hoped to zip through both tunnel and Canal Street, but the weekend commuters returning home for the start of the work week had other plans.

"The Minotaur horns covered your debt, and paid your dues for the quarter," the monotone voice answered.

Khouri Prince had spoken to automated messages with more charisma and was almost angry enough to say so.

"Quarterly dues? Quarterly dues?! I have bills, Ice. My landlord is breathing down my neck!"

He paid cash at the toll and shot through The Holland Tunnel as quickly as the other drivers would allow. The lack of speed only stoked his boiling temper.

"Your Quarterly membership was two months past due. Policy is to settle all debts before any payments can be transferred, Mr. Prince."

He swallowed his rage, and tried a more civilized appeal. "I know the policy, Isis, but I'd explained my situation to Littlehawk. I thought we had a deal!"

"Mr. Littlehawk has given you top priority for the newly vacant slot in Response Team Alpha Sigma," she replied dispassionately.

Prince seethed in silence, as he rode through darkness pierced by moats of orange light cast by street lamps. He held his tongue, and after a few minutes Ice's voice came over the headset.

"Are you still there, Mr. Prince?"

"Ice, I am not joining an RT," Khouri growled.

He reveled in his autonomy, a thing that would be lost once he joined a team. Response Teams were on call 24/7, and needed to be ready to hunt at a moment's notice. The high mortality rate didn't frighten Prince, he expected to die on the hunt, some even said he wanted to die on a hunt. What frightened him was the idea of being at the guild's beck and call. He was already in the organization's dept, and that rankled.

"Mr. Littlehawk has removed your ineligible tag, Mr. Prince. As a Response Team member you will be placed on the payroll. Payday is this Friday."

"Not interested," he stated through gritted teeth.