Homeward Bound (Journeyman Book 1) (19 page)

“No… fucking… way! Ha! Those things were a little far from home, eh?”

Gage laughed. “Oh, just a wee bit.”

“How’d you take them down?” came the next rapid fire question.

Gage took a few minutes and recounted the entire battle in intricate and greatly exaggerated detail. Joey stayed silent the entire time and absorbed every word.

“So… you shot it in the head?” he replied with a pitch that screamed he was unimpressed. “Their brains are in their chest cavity ya know.”

“I knew that,” Gage rebutted.

“So… in that case why didn’t you just use a fire rune to dry out their feathers? Oh, or a few incendiary rounds! That would have seriously weakened them. Hell now that I think about it, a fire rune might actually kill one outright it were big enough.”

It was now Gage’s turn to remain offensively silent; that is if the grumbling he was doing under his breath counted as quiet.

“Um… yeah… well, where would the fun in that be?” he replied in unflappable Gage style.

Joey snickered, fully expecting that. “Damn man, it sounds like you need me more than you let on.”

“Oh more than ya know, my man.”

With that one sentence Gage couldn’t see that on the other end of the line, Joey’s eyes had opened to their widest and most delighted point in ages.

“It’s definitely… weird not having you around,” Joey sputtered back.

“Same here, I ain’t gonna lie,” Gage replied with ease while lowering his head.

They fell quiet together, only the faint crackle of the line keeping the conversation going.

“Well, I best let you get back to it,” said Joey, a bit in awe at where the conversation had shifted. “Oh! Before I go, do you need me to research anything else for you? Other than bunyip lore of course, since you have that adequately covered.”

The sarcasm was dripping through the tinny speaker.

“Haha,” Gage chuckled. “Actually, I may have one thing. I’m gonna let this phone charge up a bit and send you a photo of a ward that's on the door to the house. Now don’t laugh, but I put the fucker there three years ago and can’t for the life of me remember how to open it.”

“So, you’re saying I’m your saving grace yet again?” Joey inquired in jest.

“In so many words.”

“Haha, I’ll take that as a compliment then, sir.”

“You're so good to me,” Gage acknowledged. “Wouldn’t be where we are today without ya, brother.”

Brother. Ugh, so it's a bromance
with
the B. Not that it matters Joey, for goodness sake!

“Of course my man!” he replied, snapping out of his short-lived funk. “Ok, I’ll keep an eye out for that photo and let you know what I find. Depending on what it is, it may take me a bit.”

“No worries and thanks J. Will talk soon; Much love.”

With that, Gage pressed the end call button and let out a deep breath before looking back to his collection of bedding.

He walked over and grabbed as much of it up as possible, exiting the building with the patchwork of blankets and sheets. This was going to take a couple of trips.

ADRIENNE RETURNED FROM HER
walk around the property wondering what Gage had been up to. She rounded the corner back onto the porch and looked out to see the GMC transformed into quite an amazing sight. Her breath was sucked away and she was speechless as the old truck now looked like an actual canopy bed.

The big brute had moved the truck closer to one of the oaks, a low slung branch acting as a tie off point for two sheets that were wrapped snugly around, each pulled loosely to a side and secured with clamps. He had loaded the hard metal with comforters, tucking them up along the edges of the truck boxes for added cushioning. Atop that sat all the blankets and sheets, and upon those more rolled blankets for use as makeshift pillows.

Damn.

She was impressed, even more so when she felt those strong hands ride along her hips.

Adrienne turned around, smiling; she’d been doing a lot of that today.

“It's…” she began.

“Gorgeous,” he finished, bringing her in for a kiss. “Now I don't know about you, but I'm beat. Wanna hop in?”

All she could manage was a half assed nod as they walked over together. Score one for the big guy.

The sunlight had all but gone by the time they slung themselves onto the covers, the orange and cranberry sky replaced with the gentle twinkle of a starscape so vast above them.

They both laid there in the stillness of the moonlight, gazing up while their thoughts wandered from pinpoint to distant pinpoint, a light breeze sweeping through the tree limbs like distant ocean waves.

“Ady,” Gage whispered in her ear, “I've been meaning to ask ya what your tattoo meant.”

“Oh pillow talk, eh? I was beginning to wonder if it wasn't up to par,” she joked, her voice going into movie-narrator mode. “After all, it is simple in comparison to the elaborate etchings found upon THE mighty Gage Crosse.”

He moved in to punch her arm in slow motion, making a soft exploding sound. “Damn right I'm mighty,” he agreed proudly, “but in all seriousness, I've been meaning to ask since seeing it up close, and with all that’s happened, it slipped my mind. Call it the bunyip effect.”

“Well, there's not a huge or profound meaning behind it,” she admitted. “I got it as a symbol of the infinite love I have for things like family, especially my mom.”

“Ink that represents love is the best kind in my opinion,” he replied, “and the most profound.”

“I suppose so,” she hesitantly agreed. “Even though she didn't like me ‘marking myself up’, it was the least I could do to show how much I cared.” Her eyes dropped forward toward the house before she continued. “My family didn't have the easiest life, even before we were targeted by a coven, nor the biggest house. All I remember was Mom busting her ass each and every day after Dad was… gone… to keep us fed: me and my brother.”

Gage moved a hand under her neck and patted her head, again feeling her soft hair through his fingers. He didn't think he could ever get tired of doing that.

“Moms tend to go out of their way and leave that effect on us,” he told her softly. “I miss mine.”

“And I miss mine too,” she said, returning her gaze skyward; the stars looked incredible and so clear.

“So while we are on this subject,” she interjected, “spill it on the rest of your ink. I'm curious.”

“Who me?” he asked facetiously in a high pitched voice. “The mighty…”

“Don’t do it,” she warned, knowing what was coming next.

“Gage,” he continued. Oh yeah, he was going to do it.

“I mean it,” she reiterated.

“Crosse,” he hissed, extending the last part out as if he were a snake.

She reached over to his nipple and pinched it with a hearty twist.

“Ow! Fine,” he groaned, crossing his arms while using the inside of his forearm to rub the soreness out of his nipple. “Geez, ya little minx, I guess we’ll start right there then. I got the arm sleeved up first as you know, but the chest piece was done around the same time I had those angel wings inked down my back in the fall of 2013.”

“These two pistols represent both of my parents,” he continued, pointing at the right one. “That one’s for Mom and this other one’s for Dad. They represent their fighting spirit as they struggled for their lives against Noctis… and lost. I had the artist put them on a bed of thorns since the pain always eats at me, but they also sit surrounded by three roses, representing the three of us, plus they were Mom’s favorite as you're intimately aware of.” He looked her way and threw out a wink before drawing his arms back behind his head.

“And the script?” she asked, scrolling across the words ‘Death Fears Me’ that were inked in black on his upper chest.

From the outside it may have appeared like her three simple words were asking about another three simple words, but the meaning in these carried great personal significance to him; a great weight.

He quickly grew silent.

“I didn’t mean to -”

“Nah, it's okay,” he reassured her, taking a deep breath as though he was hesitant to say anything, “just been a fair while since I've had to think about this.

“It was back in early 2014, just before meeting you and Joey. I was on the trail of a mothman that was making Kentucky its bitch. I was just passing through when I heard a story come across local radio that caught my attention: pale skin, red eyes, yada yada. I thought it was very weird that one of them was so far west, so I got really interested really fast. Knowing what we know now about the Noctis, factions, and movements it makes total sense.

“Anyway, long story short it was indeed a mothman and I managed to put it down after quite the fight outside Louisville. When all was done, I tore out of Dodge and was in a pretty bad mental state from the battle - we had locked eyes a couple of times too many. That's when I didn't notice the kid crossing the street in front of me. He was no more than ten years old I would guess, so young and innocent.”

There was a long pause.

“I… I hit him going about forty-five… sent him clean out of his shoes and down the road a stretch.”

Adrienne felt tears welling up in her eyes as she saw a glistening kaleidoscope forming in his.

“So,” he continued cheerlessly, “I stopped the truck right away and ran over to tend to him as he laid there dying. Dying because of me.”

“But it wasn't you, Gage, it was -”

“The mothman’s fault?” he snipped, a hand pounding back against the makeshift pillows. “No, that fucker was dead and I was the one behind the wheel. I tried to stop the bleeding, poor kid, but it was too late. Or so I thought.

“As we sat there in the middle of the street, a hooded shape formed out of the nearby shadows and approached. It stood, well hovered as there were no feet, and just looked at us in the bright sun. Its silence was the creepiest thing. I thought it was a demon at first, but it didn't want to possess either of us and there wasn't any telltale smoke or sulfur.

“When it finally said something, I gotta say it was like all the warmth around us was sucked up into its faceless hood and I could see my own breath even though it had to be in the upper sixties that day.”

“What did it say to you?” she asked, wide eyed.

“I’ll never forget it,” Gage said before he put on his best scary voice, which was much scarier in his mind, and went on, “I am the living death and the death of the living. I am come for the soul that is owed us this moment.”

“Death?!” Adrienne gasped. “What, as in
the
Grim Reaper? Skull face, black robes and all? You're pulling my leg.”

“Always the tone of surprise,” he replied. “He did vaguely look like that, but was… different. All I know is that Death was there, in the flesh.”

“I know, I know. I'm just… Wow, okay.”

“That's not the best part,” Gage said sheepishly as Adrienne grew afraid to hear what he had to say next. “As the boy was laying there, I offered my own soul up as a substitute. Now don't look at me like that; I was tired, Ady, and at quite a low point.

“Death reached out to me with his bony fingers and I closed my eyes awaiting my fate, but he stopped just short of my face, refusing to take my soul with him. He told me it was not my time and that he would also spare the boy’s life for the lack of fear I showed that moment. With a wave of his hand my addled state of mind was gone and then he said that he feared me: a man that did not show fear of death but respected it. He finished by saying neither Heaven nor Hell could console me for the things coming ahead.”

“Gage, I… I had no idea.”

“We all keep a lil bit of ourselves hid from the world, Ady. I know you have secrets locked up inside, too. For fear of not letting people know them, for weakness, for pride, whatever. All I ask is that ya don't think less of me.”

“That’s definitely true,” she agreed with a sigh, “and I certainly don't think any less of you. Do you know when… your time will be?”

“No, he didn’t tell me. Suppose it’s because we aren't meant to know ahead of time.”

Silence grew between them for a good ten minutes.

“I love how meaningful all your ink is to you,” she told him, breaking the silence to continue the conversation they had started. “Are the wings similarly so?”

Gage had somewhat recuperated and his eyes playfully darted from hers to the sky and back again. “Dammit I wish,” he admitted softly, “but I just liked the way they looked on my back.”

“At least you're honest,” she said with a giggle as his hands came down over his eyes like a ‘see no evil’ monkey.

“The rest of ‘em aren't that meaningful either, more for utility really, except maybe the one on my quad.” He then pointed over to the pentacle on his left shoulder, flexing with a mind of its own as soon as attention fell on it.

“That's an easy one. It's for protection against evil,” she recited as if reading out of a textbook, “and thou shalt be assured that no enchantment or being, magical or otherwise, shall hold sway over the bearer of this mark.”

Gage laughed, pointing to the gash on his brow. “Either mine’s broken or something must've been lost in translation, but that sucker delivers one hell of a burn to any supernaturals that touch it.”