Duty Calls: The Reluctant War God Book 1 (3 page)

Pandron whispered into the raven’s ear and then raised his arm and the raven took flight. It circled the room once, make a loud caw, and then shout upward and flew out the open oculus in the ceiling, but not before it left Yond a parking gift. A large white load of bird droppings fell on his shoulder and as Yond cursed, the raven cawed again, sounding like laughter.

CHAPTER THREE

I collected my belongings and left the Inn. I knew I’d never be back. After that performance, things wouldn’t be the same with the locals. Entering the stable beside the inn, I approached my steed, a simple donkey that stood chewing a bit of grain.

“No point laying low anymore,” I said. “I need to get some coffee.”

A light of intellect shone in the eyes of the animal. He shook his small gray head and a shudder passed through his body. His coat quickly turned black, and he grew in stature until he was no longer in the form of a donkey, but that of a powerful black stallion with hooves of silver and a flowing mane of gold. He neighed his laughter and stamped the straw strewn floor reveling in the joy of his power unmasked.

I wished that I could feel that same raw pleasure, but unlike Blackflame, my power came with too high a price. Blackflame
was
his power. No separation existed between his form and function.

He was also part of me, an aspect of my godhood just as the Bright Sword whose true name I must not speak and the holy armor. The bloodthirsty sword, the impervious mail, their reveling and abuses always paid for by my guilt. Both were created by Heph, the craftsman of the gods and imbibed with power by the elemental forces.

Blackflame was different. He was a creature created to serve the holder of the sword and armor, but he possessed a separate mind and spirit—he was no true slave or object. Simply loyal, true and joyful in his galloping. He was a great consolation and it sure beat walking.

I mounted and together we shot forward into the night. I used the Aether Path, the highway of the gods. The road was always different, the route changing depending on the state of the universe at any given moment. I had only my instincts to guide me, but they were unfailing, and also part of my godhood.

The realities changed around me as I progressed. A shortcut through a dark forest, turning into the mouth of a forgotten cave, discovering a hidden valley and beyond. Each reality existed alongside the other, separated by only a thin veil of perception. I traveled not in time, but in space and frequency. The wavelength of each reality closed off by curtains both gossamer thin, but impossible to break through unless you were of the blood of the drifters, the travelers, those races who walked through the realities at will due to their nature. The gods, my kin were only one of the travelers. The fae, demons, angels, all walked the path. There were also far more things unknown than will ever be known—unique creatures of chaos who formed spontaneously from the natural ebb and flow of probability.

As we traveled, my clothing changed, as did Blackflame himself. He became a giant riding panther, then a midnight black Harley Davidson Road King. I dallied on that road a while as the rumble of the exhausts carried me past strange mesas and dimly seen roadhouses and shacks.

For the time during which each metamorphosis took place I knew and understood those things belonging to that reality, and knew they were right and as they should be.

I began the journey as Kaltron the Reluctant on a remarkable horse named Blackflame and ended as Carl the guitarist on a motorcycle in Memphis, but who can be sure? Perhaps I had traded destinies on the journey and entered a different version of myself without ever realizing it. A mortal man might have been driven mad, but I didn’t bother thinking much about it. What difference did it make? After all, I’m a god. What’s a god without strange paradoxes and unknowable mysteries?

I parked Blackflame in motorcycle form on the corner in front of the Blue Note diner. I entered the restaurant and was greeted by the smell of coffee and waffle syrup. I took a stool at a free spot on the counter and turned the coffee cup in front of me right side up in anticipation.

The old guy to the left of me reeked of residual cigarette smoke and he started hacking like he was trying to cough up a lung.

I grimaced and looked around the room. Yeah, figured one would be hanging out here. I motioned to an angel of death who hovered in the corner chatting to a couple of hookers who were sharing an order of biscuits and gravy. I got his attention and the dark angel glanced my way. I pointed to my watch and aimed at thumb toward the lunger next to me.

The angel gave me a helpless shrug, shook his head and mouthed “sorry” as best he could with what skin he had left over his skull. My table mate wouldn’t be going away any time soon so I’d best just get used to him.

Lisa Harwood, my favorite waitress and personal mortal goddess of coffee appeared smiling. I watched as she bent over slightly to pour the dark liquid into my cup. I looked at the tattoos at the edge of her collar that rose up her neck and the ones that slipped past her wrist. She’d told me the manager made her wear long sleeve shirts to hide them, but really it just made people more curious about her ink.

She caught me staring and winked. “You know what you want tonight? The usual?”

I shook my head. “No. Nothing but the coffee. Not much of an appetite.”

She paused for a moment, focusing on my face. “You look a little down tonight. Is something wrong?” she asked.

I shrugged. “Nothing serious. Just family troubles. I was minding my own business playing at a gig and my brother showed up out of the blue and with a mess of drama.”

“You close with your family?”

“Nope.” I shook my head. “Cut my ties a long time ago. But they just can’t seem to leave me alone.”

“Sorry, honey. Don’t worry. I had to do the same thing with my folks. Sometimes you gotta live your own life free from their pain. I have a sister in Atlanta and we keep in touch. She wasn’t able to get away and, well, it’s been hard on her. The best thing I ever did was get out of that mess.”

She patted my arm, then left to see to her other customers.

I appreciated her concern. She was a sweetheart. Maybe thirty. I guess she thought I was late thirties or early forties. It’s a comfortable age to portray. I could change it at will but don’t bother. I settled in a long time ago. Old enough to command respect from men, and silver fox kudos from women with daddy issues—but not too old to be irrelevant.

I had no clue as to how old I truly was. Thousands of years certainly. It all blended together. Particularly because of my travels through so many veils of reality. Time passed at different speeds, civilization took different paths. All I really had was the eternal present. The rest didn’t matter.

To think that Lisa would care about the feelings of the God of War was touching. Of course, she didn’t know my true nature. Just my tipping habits.

I could see the pain in her. Obviously, she had some history. I’d been drinking coffee and eating egg sandwiches at the diner for almost a year. She was always a little bit of sunshine in spite of her Gothic fashion sense and dark eye makeup. She was even nice to the old hacking guy.

I tried to help her here and there as I could. But she really needed to find someone in her life. Bad enough to have such a short span of time to live, worse to spend it alone.

Funny. Seems like I was thinking more like a love god wanting to set her up with a partner. Then again, my bitch relation Nanaya, the so-called Goddess of Love always made sure her presents of love were no blessing. Worst than war in some ways. Personally, I always think of her as the Goddess of Lust and Regret. I told her so once. She took it as a compliment—then wanted to blow me.

That always makes things awkward at family reunions.

Across the dining room a man started shouting at the woman across the table from him. Lisa rushed over to try and calm things down. I could already see it wasn’t going to work.

The man was sloppy drunk. His cheeks were flushed red and he was sweating. He was dressed in a drab sports coat and slacks. His shirt was open from the collar to the middle of this chest and his garish tie hung around his neck undone. He had the sad, bloated look of a former high school football player, gone to flab, making a living selling used cars or vacuum cleaners.

He was pointing a fat, ringed finger at the woman at this table. Waving it in her face, inches from her nose.

She was a working girl, but young, inexperienced, and she must have needed the money badly to put up with his lip. Some of the wenches I’d known in the past would have stabbed the jerk in the balls under the table by now.

I stood up and followed Lisa. This wasn’t going to be pretty.

“Sir, you’re going to have to settle down or you’ll have to leave,” Lisa said.

The man smirked. “Oh really, what are you gonna do? Huh? I can talk to this little bitch any damn way I want to. I’m paying the bill. She can get the fuck out of here if she doesn’t like it. If she takes it, it ain’t none of your business cunt.”

“Get out,” Lisa said. “Get out of here now before I call the police.”

The man stood up, shakily and towered over Lisa. He opened his mouth to say something, but I never found out what. I was too busy throwing my right fist into his mouth and breaking three of his teeth.

I swooped in between Lisa and the car salesman and caught him before he fell. He was out like a light and drooling blood and saliva from his wounded mouth.

“Nitey-nite, asshole,” I said.

“Holy crap, Carl,” Lisa said. “What have you done? He’s going to press charges.”

I sat him on the booth and dug into his pockets locating his wallet. I opened it and looked at the drivers license “Richard Hancock… you certainly have the right name. “ I started thumbing through the stack of bills.

“Let’s see if we can figure up the tab. Steak and eggs for sleeping beauty here, plus a coffee, and we have pancakes for the lovely lady, and a soda, plus a hefty tip for the waitress. Oh, Honey, did you want a to-go box for that?”

The girl, who had remained seated the entire time looked up at me with big eyes and nodded slowly.

“Fine then, Lisa? Can you?” I said then handed her a wad of cash as a very hefty tip.

“Sure, Carl.” She walked over to get the box from behind the counter.

The remainder of the money I handed to the girl. “Services rendered and paid in full. Believe me, you earned it having to put up with this pig.”

Lisa returned with the box and I carefully packed up the girl’s meal and handed it to her. “There you go, darlin’. Try to stay away from these guys. I can’t fix your life, but I can let you know there are lots of options. You just need to find them.”

“Thank you,” she said. She put the money in her purse, took the box of pancakes from my hand and left the diner.

I crammed the empty walled back into his pocket. He groaned, he was starting to come to.

I looked at the other customers and tried to ignore the hissing laughter of the angel of death who had been immensely amused by the entire affair.

“A very unfortunate event took place this evening. This gentleman was mugged outside, and he wandered in her drunk and incoherent. I’m sure when he wakes up, he’ll be confused, and might even get the details of what happened somewhat mangled. I’m sure I can count on each of you to cooperate fully and provide a detailed statement to the police if asked which will reflect the accurate events.”

There were many smiling faces which told me they were proponents of justice. However, I sensed reluctance on the parts of a few. I read a few details from them and called them out. “Isn’t that true, Mark Flynn of 70 South 4th Street? And James Parsons of Kings Court Inn room 15? Or do I need to get a personal deposition from you later?”

And then there were nods all around.

I sat at the table across from the bleeding man. He was becoming more animated. He wiped his right hand across his face and he spit out the tooth.

“Hey Dick, wake up. I want to see how you are going to gum the steak and eggs you ordered,” I said.

Richard looked up and opened one eye to look at me. He then looked around. “Where am I?”

“Booth eight. Blue Note Diner. Memphis, Tennessee.”

“Wait a minute, I was talking to a hooker and—”

“Listen to me…Dick. This is what happened,” I said and then began the tale.He believed me completely. The fact the story had no basis in logic and no tangible proof couldn’t prevent it. Dick was absolutely certain every single word I spoke was truth, undeniable and absolute.

It’s what we gods do. It’s in the blood.

CHAPTER FOUR

I’ve grown as a person, believe it or not. I left the man alive. Hey, don’t brush that off. It’s no small thing for me and compared to the messed up crap I’ve done over the years. It was by comparison in fact, heroic act.

I was the good guy.

Sure.

It’s a sad thing when you recognize your own lies. I enjoyed smacking that fool in the gob. It gave me deep, dark pleasure. I hadn’t grown very much, after all. I’d been a hypocrite. There I was at the diner doing the same things I promised I’d never do again. Taking up arms for a noble cause. I do it all the time, convincing myself there was a difference.