Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1) (18 page)

Cautiously, his hand reached out and fingers wrapped themselves around the handle. Half expecting it to spontaneously combust or set off some kind of deadly spike trap, relief won him over when nothing happened.

He then attempted to physically open the door to no avail, as it was sealed up tight by a magical force that resisted all attempts at turning the handle or pushing and pulling at the stubborn lumber. Even a couple of robust kicks in the middle didn’t budge it nor smudge the paint.

The earlier relief changed into frustration and he stomped over to the windows on the left, banging them like a madman trying to get inside. A similar force continued to keep him shut out; the glass could not be opened or broken.

Grumbling, he cupped his hands to the glass and pressed his face firmly against them to look inside for any clues. As luck would have it, the heavy curtains had been shut so he couldn’t make out much detail. However, he confirmed that the power was still out through the narrow gaps in the panels, the generators having been switched off when he left.

Pretty defeated, he trundled with hunched shoulders back over to the ward and stared at it while it stared back at him. Making a fist, he wanted to pop that smug, unblinking eye so hard. His blood pressure rose and he began to tremble.

Ok Gage, calm down big guy. There’s absolutely no rush to get inside, so breathe.

Following his own advice, he inhaled sharply and took in a lung full of air, holding it in for a moment with his chest heaved before releasing it slowly through his pursed lips.

Now, let's approach this logically.

Obviously this was an entry ward of some kind, similar in construction to the Hamsa but slightly rearranged. Gage postulated that it would be keyed to his handprint or fingerprints so with that in mind, he aligned his hand precisely with the symbol and pressed hard against it.

Nothing happened.

He tried a couple more times for good measure and…

Nothing happened still.

The eye must then play an integral role in the spell. So bending over, he held one of his green eyes open just inches away from the mark as if it were a high tech retinal scanner. He then tried the other one before repeating each open eye in turn with his hand again pressed on the door.

It was quite the spectacle and crowning all these amazing efforts: a big, whopping nothing.

This was getting old. He had to have been in quite a state of mind, or completely out of it, when he placed this thing. The latter mood was speedily resurfacing with each passing failure.

Adrienne appeared behind him before he managed to start any more obnoxious contortions and her touch calmed him right down like a sedative.

“Any luck?” she asked with a slight laugh.

“Sorry, this noggin’ is drawing a total blank at the moment,” he admitted.

“It’s all good, Gage,” she reassured him, “it can wait. At least we’re here now and it’s starting to get a little dark.”

He pulled away and turned, waltzing over to the railings where he placed both arms and looked out to the right as the sun dipped below the far off tree line. She was right, night was fast approaching and they needed somewhere to rest up. His eyes drifted over to the small building attached to the house by a narrow, covered walkway and he got an idea.

“Looks like we may be sleeping out here for the night,” he revealed.

Her face was full of excitement at the prospect, but that quickly fell to apprehension as the quality of the available porch accommodations sank in. They were less than one star, possibly even zero: equivalent to the amount of fucks the elements had given while laying assault to the furniture on a daily basis.

“Um, hopefully we won't be chatting with the sandman on these things,” she said, poking the wicker sporadically; it caved in at the slightest amount of pressure.

“Nah, darlin’,” he replied with a devilish smirk, “I have somethin’ far better in mind for us.”

He turned back and looked to the truck. In the golden hues of the hour, she looked almost as inviting as a warm, cozy bed. Almost.

GAGE WASN'T SURE THAT
Adrienne was fully sold on the whole truck camping idea, but it was one of their only options other than sleeping on rotten cushions set atop moldy chairs. She'd soon change her mind after she saw what a Gage-styled camping session was all about. He thought on that for a moment, the first thing popping into his head being one of those infamous eye rolls of hers and he convinced himself that the gesture must be avoided at all costs.

Now a man on a mission, he walked confidently over toward the building he spotted earlier. It was a utility area his mother had built primarily for crafts, but his folks had also converted part of it into a large laundry room. He continued to walk along the the covered path, looking to his right. There, three long clotheslines extended out from the side of the building and off into the back yard, each dancing its own carefree shuffle in the wind.

When he reached the door, he heavily scrutinized every square inch of it. Nary a ward or fleck of misplaced paint was in sight, so he attempted to open it, secretly praying his efforts wouldn’t be stopped before they even started. To his delight, the handle moved and the door was open.

The first thing to hit him when he entered was the fragrance of crisp sheets, baby powder, and lavender mixed with bergamot. Dulled by the years, the freshness of it all was still surprisingly potent.

The smells triggered more memories and he could almost feel his mother in the room: crocheting elaborate table coverings and doilies, making multi-tiered macramé plant hangers, customizing Christmas stockings with chunky characters and sequins, and simply repairing the brand new clothes Gage had managed to rip up within a few minutes of putting on. Some of these projects were finished long ago and some, sadly, never would be.

Gage proceeded to open the closest set of cabinets on the left as he went in, but found them empty. The ones situated beneath those were full, but with sewing tools and a surplus of different colored yarns. Helpful at one time, they weren’t useful at all now, so he moved his way along the line of cabinets and drawers, finding more fabrics and threads tucked away inside. A huge plastic bin squatted at the end, overflowing with various toys from a childhood long past.

He stopped, grabbing two of the topmost stuffed animals – which happened to be his favorites – and held them up to the inviting light streaming in from a nearby window. The first one was a dog that resembled Snoopy, but he was taller and wearing a tiny bomber jacket. Looking around, he couldn't find his matching leather helmet and goggles, so assumed they had fallen to the bottom of the pile if they hadn’t been lost to time.

The other one was a palm-sized parrot with a large beak, bright green and yellow, mere threads where the orange zig zags for feet used to be. Gage supposed that Duffy, their family Shih-Tzu and his best friend growing up, must've got a hankering for them back in the day and tore them off while playing.

As much as he liked going down memory lane, there were still plenty of things to do and there would be more time for this later on. Propping both toys up on a nearby shelf next to a cowbell, he continued on his trek for bedding. Part of him began to hope this wouldn't turn out to be a bust, because had already vowed that no eye rolls were allowed in this man’s future.

He didn’t have to fear too much longer, as he finally found himself in the right area. Opening a couple of matching mahogany armoires that had been shoved in the corner, stacks of downy comforters, wooly blankets and soft sheets gleamed inside like some long lost treasure. Using his arms like great big hooks, he fished out what he could and placed them all on top of the washing machine to sort through.

The sounds of
Don’t Fear the Reaper
cut through the peace.

Normally he wouldn't think twice about it, but that was before all the weirdness of the past few days. Glancing down suspiciously at his phone, his look of trepidation soon melted away into a smile.

It was Joey.

Pressing the answer button, he answered promptly, “What up my man? I think I have enough charge for quick chat. This damn thing keeps dying no matter how much I keep it charged.”

Joey responded heartily. “Yeah well, when you get back here we are definitely heading straight to the store and buying you a new one. First damn thing we do.”

“Haha, sure thing boss. So what’s going on?” Gage asked over the considerable rustling of paper, followed by the sound of many things crashing onto the hardwood floor. “Um, you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Joey snipped. “Damn desk organizer fell and made a mess. Trust me, it sucks to always be so full of irony, I’ll get it up later. Nah, I called to give you a bit of an update on the situ now that you made it home…” his voice trailed off momentarily, “I assume you’ve made home, right?”

“Yeah, yeah we are here and surprisingly we made it in one piece.”

Gage made himself comfortable on the edge of the large laundry sink, propping himself up with his sleeved arm. Light from the window opposite streamed in and he took a moment to admire the ropey veins that had formed along his arm. Glancing up from his moment of self-admiration, he noticed that his mother really did keep an overabundance of washing powders on hand; the numerous boxes neatly lining the sill looked like some motherly cleaning army.

“Ah good to hear,” Joey continued with a lot more than relief in his voice. “So, the Noctis. They have definitely been moving a lot out west and up in the north. Seems they've been forming alliances with all sorts of beasts. Werewolves we knew about from the demon child's little pep talk back at the factory, but get this: they're even finding a way to get some wendigos to join their ranks.”

Oh shit.

“Damn, really?” Gage replied with genuine shock and concern. “Wendigos aren't the kind of creatures that tend to shack up well with others. The Noctis must be slinging some heavy demon dick around to lure them over.”

Trust Gage to find a means of taking the edge out of any situation. “Haha, yeah the Order has been chatting nonstop about it. The hotbeds they mentioned were in Portland, around the Great Lakes, plus upstate New York. I can't imagine they would be in the city proper but who knows. At least, that’s what I could gleam out of the latest batch of transmissions.”

“Sounds like that's enough action going on, J.”

“If only that were it. Seems there is also some kind of pattern to where the heaviest demon activity is located worldwide, but they’re keeping tight lipped about it; something’s got them all worked up into a frenzy. The powers that be even broke out some form of code and those of us in the field aren’t even aware of what it is, never mind the cypher. So we are in the dark relative to that.”

“Huh, that’s weird,” Gage replied, shifting his weight to his lower back and crossing an arm over to rub an itch out of his left pec, “why would they want us to be unaware and unprepared for where we may encounter heavier smoking?”

“My thoughts exactly, but I am sure they have their reasons. I’m thinking they may have caught onto some of the Noctis’ fabled ‘master plan’ and therefore don’t want to tip their hand just yet, in case anyone is listening. I know it’s not the only explanation, but it’s the only one I have at this point. Plus, they already know we know they're up to something since, well, 2010 and run in with your folks.”

“Agree. Ya think there are any near here? The Noctis I mean,” Gage asked, concerned about the possibility of their being demons so close to home.

“There’s no way to know for sure man,” Joey said just as Gage expected him to, “but since you are further out west than here, I would definitely stay on guard.”

“Roger that.”

“So, that’s all I have for now.”

“Thanks, man.”

“Of course. On another note, how are things going otherwise? You two getting to know each other better?” Joey asked, shifting the conversation to a more personal level. He waited with bated breath for the answer and when it came, it came all too quickly.

“Oh yeah, definitely so,” replied Gage. There was a distinct tone in his voice that indicated he was happy. “She’s great! More than I imagined.”

“Good stuff,” he said back with a bit of dissatisfaction that his idea actually worked, but he was content for him. “I knew it would be a good idea for you two.”

He definitely didn’t want or need to hear further details on that so changed the subject yet again. “So, did you two see any interesting things on your way there?”

“Well you aren’t gonna believe this, but we had a fight with a couple of bunyip,” Gage mentioned nonchalantly.

The other end went quiet for a few seconds and Gage began to think the the call might have dropped out. He checked his battery levels and though it was low, it was still adequate.

“Are you serious?” Joey’s voice blasted over the speaker with the elation of a puppy getting his first toy. “Where?”

“Outside of Amarillo,” Gage said bringing the phone back up to his ear. If it were possible, he thought he could feel Joey’s pulse through the airwaves.