Strange Aeons [Book 1]

10. The Final Countdown

The Finnegan's Wake was the usual chaos of drunken songs, yelling and pungent alcohol stench. It was the last kind of establishment he would ever set foot in, but the invitation had been right in the middle between compulsory and irresistible.

A crispy sheet of toilet paper, clean fortunately, with just some words scribbled: an address and a time. No wonder about its sender.

He could only imagine the turmoil he had generated with just that small, well-aimed weapon of mass destruction. He basked in the sensation of having the upper hand.

He entered, fashionably late, and she was already there, of course. Perched on a stool like a bird of prey in her own territory, she looked intimidating, he had to admit. But not enough for him.

He stumbled across the noisy room, looking at the peculiar people populating it. From sailors right from the docks to the curious ladies who came to show their bravery and enjoy a bit of danger. There was a table where at least twelve people were singing in, he had to admit, a pretty mélange of voices, at different octaves of drunkenness.

She saw him. No amount of afternoon work at the docks could have cleansed her from the anger and hate that had run in her blood since the night before. She was tired as hell, with her muscles as sore as ever.

«What a charming establishment.» he commented, with his melodious, husky voice.

«I just wanted to be sure you wouldn't try any monkey business.» she replied, acidly.

«My dear, shouldn't I be the one worried about eventual violent outbursts, here? And yet, here I am, right in the lion's den... ops, is it inappropriate?» he feigned regret. She downed a half pint of dense black beer in one shot.

«Listen, we're civilized people, or at the very least I hope.» she sounded like someone who had rehearsed a speech in front of a mirror for hours. Just in her case, the mirror were containers of track-laying. «So, I thought we'd just do what civilized people do: meet before a beer and talk.»

«I agree, and applaud your effort to join the civilization.» a beer was put in front of him, he didn't even have to ask for it. «So, to what I owe the pleasure of such a polite invitation?»

«Ye have it out fer us, all rite. I don't understand why, but all rite. I have no problems with dealing with ye and yer Coven, even with the ones that did nothing bad to me. What I propose, and I'm pretty serious, is that we face this sportingly.»

«Let's say I'm listening.» Staccato took a sip of his beer and thanked God magic could cure even food poisoning after taking a more attentive glance at the tankard.

«So, no family involved. This is between us, not between others.»

Banshee's voice had rapidly become as heavy as a stone, as did her eyes stopping where she thought Staccato's were. This serious, he had never had the pleasure to see her. It was a marvelous side effect to his plan.

«Oh. I get you enjoyed my DVD then.» he smiled, fake as a seven dollar bill.

«Can us please cut the crap and agree?» she snapped. «Listen dwarf, let's make something clear. I don't care about what the heck are ye doing with yer life. What the fuck do you want from us?»

Staccato rolled the beer in his glass, thoughtful.

«Well, we have our personal interests in the situation at hand, and you're more interfering with than you're part of the plan, so I'm simply trying to put you back in the... box, whence you came.» he shrugged, with a matter-of-factly voice.

«Oh, fuck off scene right! Can we simply settle this? We're mages, us should stick together fer what we can, there are already enough arseholes around without adding to the number. Yer pretty new, wouldn't ye rather have someone helping ye with stuff rather than more enemies?» she lowered her voice, slightly, just to be sure the noise would cover her most dangerous words from the absolutely uninterested ears of the rest of the room.

Staccato looked at her. She was proving to be quite different from the encounter he had estimated. He was literally ready for an ambush.

But she came alone, and apparently nobody in the room could give a shit about their rendezvous. Even the bartender, after delivering what looked, and smelt, like Banshee's fifth beer, had moved towards the far end of the bar

«I'm sorry, I must have turned suddenly deaf, probably to try and avoid hearing the musical massacre that table is mercilessly perpetrating on what sounds like a folk ballad.» he leaned a little towards Banshee. «But I could have sworn you'd just offered to be friends.»

«Can't ye just take the baked beans approach please? Some of us didn't have thesaurus fer breakfast!»

«I have no intention of disclosing any of my current plans with you, my dear. I have to admit, you concocted a pretty speech there, but to ask me to trust you and your bunch so openly... come on, this underestimation of my bluff-calling abilities kind of offends me.» he replied, uniting his hands on the counter, hoping the disease-carrying beer would simply disappear from in front of him.

«I wasn't bluffing. I'd rather help ye than having to worry about problems I really don't need.» she said. He suffocated a heartfelt laugh.

«Thank for your kindness, but no, thanks.»

«All rite. Can we just agree about the "no family rule" and call it a day?» she surrendered, and extended her right hand towards him, a light of hope in the depth of her grey eyes.

Staccato observed her hand. It was quite big, definitely bigger than his, but it didn't have his pianist hand's natural grace and slenderness. Hers was a hand used to hard work and slapping faces, not to caress the precious ivory keys of ancient pianos.

Then, he looked at her face.

And smirked.

«So, you want me to leave your brother alone.» he resumed. He took the greatest pleasure in seeing her face cringe away from the stubborn quiet and friendly approach.

«Listen, I don't know how ye got that recording, or even how ye found out my real name and my past. But, I swear: if something happen to me brother, there'd be no law or place in this world to save yer life.» what would have sounded like a tacky b-movie threat from any other mouth, came out perfectly believable from hers. «Not even a church.»

His smirk didn't falter, but it was lucky she couldn't see his eyes.

«Your brother is such an interesting person, you know? Young, brave. How he faced the police, and all to keep you out of trouble, taking the fall for your... do we want to call them "youth mistakes"? It's really admirable.»

«Everything you just said, you could have gotten from his interrogation tape.» she growled, slowly.

Staccato's grin enhanced.

«Liam, Fiònn, Aidan, Daithi, Nìall. I wonder how they're doing, back home at the farm. You reckon that Liam would have married Fiona, by now? Hell, it's ben ten years, they'd have at least three children.» Staccato's soft voice went on.

Banshee's grip on her glass tightened.

«Still unconvinced? Do I have to take out the day you got that tattoo? You weren't alone, were you? You couldn't do it alone, you're scared of needles, like hell. So, there are two "Fidelis in Omnibus" running around the world right now. Who knows... how close they are.»

«Shut the fuck up.» She jumped down from her stool and in a moment she was wielding it like a two-handed weapon. While the other customers started to look in their direction, she tried to hit Staccato with a mighty blow. The small man dodged, jumping back. The stool hit the counter, breaking one of his four legs.

«I'm not saying I know your brother.» he said, suddenly whispering, forcing her to slide closer. «I'm just saying... no one has ever seen us in the same room, together.»

With a swift movement of his left hand, he lifted the right hem of his hood. Just enough to let her see a shiny, transparent grey eye, surrounded by freckles, slightly covered by a lock of intensely red hair.