The Unfortunate Story of Roddy Mayhem by Julie Steimle (free e reader .TXT) 📖

Eve smiled at him as if that was an added bonus. It said something about his character, apparently.

“I’m more of a live and let live kind of guy, you see,” Hanz added for further explanation. “The only reason I did it was because I really believe that my faith is the best path to true happiness.”

And we could all tell he meant it.

But because it was an uncomfortable subject, one which Tom Brown was especially not inclined to entertain—it quickly changed when Tom asked, “So if a Danish guy eats a danish, is it cannibalism?”

Hanz stared at him for a full second then laughed. “Not if you are talking about a pastry, no.”

“Is a danish actually Danish?” James murmured.

And then Dan jumped in with a shrug— “Are french fries actually French? Or English muffins English?”

“I thought they were renamed ‘freedom fries’,” Tom interjected.

“That’s lame,” Dan retorted.

And the conversation devolved from there. The friends bantered over words, of all things, which I just didn’t see the point in following. I savored my meal, which was outstandingly the best thing I had ever eaten in many years. And I wondered if I would be able to eat like this all the time if I stuck with their New York plan. To be honest, I had a thousand-or-so second doubts about going to that private school. I mean, I loved California. Winters here were mild. I had the ocean and the beach, and easy pickings for when I needed things. But if I went to New York and to that school, I would have to play it straight. And despite the promised security and a future, it sounded boring. I mean RULES. I would be forced to follow some other creep’s rules. And honestly, I really didn’t want that. I liked my freedom.

I noticed Tom and Eve peeking at me during the dinner, hearing all the imps that were shouting at me to sneak off and do whatever. So they knew what was on my mind—which kind of sucked. It was the first time too that I felt so stuck. They were going to make me go straight. I wondered, though, what would happen if I didn’t go. What if I snuck away at the airport or something and found a new beach? I mean Dervish would probably escape jail, eventually. He was a halfer like me so he could walk through walls and break bonds. He and the entire gang. And then what? They would probably come after me and blame me for what had happened even though it was not my fault.

On that thought, I decided to stick with the New York plan.

The evening wound down. I was getting tired and so many of the others were also beat from jet lag. Apparently everyone except Eve and Hanz were from the east coast. The wolfman was holding up well, though he seemed used to travel. And Tom had boundless energy as if he didn’t know what sleep was. But even from his imps I knew he was ready to hit the sack. I wondered where they would take me so we could crash for the night because I doubted we were going back to the beach.

“Should we take him to where the others are or…?” Dan asked Rick and Tom with a gesture to me.

Rick nodded to himself and said, “We take him to my place. No point in dropping him off with the Feds when we’ve got this.”

“The FBI will want him registered,” James muttered as if he actually didn’t like the idea. “So will the SRA.”

I heard Rick’s imps use a particularly rude cuss word which they wanted him to voice. He didn’t though. His lips went tight, his mind clearly going over that thought.

“Who is the SRA?” I asked, too curious.

“Supernatural Regulators Association,” Tom said, him even sounding a little grim.

“I’m registered with the SRA,” Eve said matter-of-factly as she rose with Hanz. They intended to go soon. I could hear her imps making up reasons she should skip school the next day. They were also tempting her to go out flying really late, or just to stick with Hanz and go to his place for some sweet nookie. Hanz’s imps were making similar suggestions—without the hints at flying. But I had a feeling they were going to play it straight, he to his apartment and her to hers. They didn’t seem the kind of folk who believed in premarital sex.

All of her friends shot her wry looks. Rick said, “Yeah, but you are a thousand times more dangerous than any of them, so it doesn’t make a difference.”

Eve shot him a sharp look as Hanz stared. But Rick was unapologetic about it. To him it was simply a fact he had come to accept.

“The SRA hunts people like Rick,” Tom whispered to me. “And they’d hunt her if they could.”

“Would they hunt me?” I asked, feeling a shudder go through the length of my body.

Tom shrugged. “Don’t know. Like I told that guy Dervish—you guys are the first half-imps I’d ever met. But they never hunted me.”

“Because you are way too much trouble,” Rick said, chuckling. He then walked out toward the front of the restaurant. I noticed he had left a big tip—which I was tempted to steal though Eve stopped me before I could swipe up the cash.

“Nu uh,” she said, shaking a finger at me. She steered me to follow Tom as we all walked to the outside. “Sticky fingers will get you into trouble.”

I hung my shoulders. For a demon, she was really a goodie-goodie.

I wish I could say it all ended well. But when Eve strolled off with Hanz back to the university and Rick had gotten into that fancy hybrid car I had stolen the earpiece from, taking Dan and James in the backseat, Tom held me back and told them we would be there later. As we hung back, watching them go, I felt a cold tremor go through me.

One of them was here.

Tom grabbed me so I could not run, facing that big scary winged angel guy—the one I saw around town occasionally who also haunted my pier whenever something really dreadful was happening. No one else could see them, and I rarely did. But this one was always around when someone drowned. A death angel.

“What do you want?” Tom snapped irritably, turning to face it once we were alone.

The huge, ominous being stared down on us. His voice was like the rushing of water and so deep I could feel it seeping through my skull rather than in my ears. “You know that vimp is death incarnate. You must protect that mortal from her.”

I felt sick in my stomach as he seemed to stare through me to my core and was finding me as repulsive as a gum wad stuck to the bottom of his shoe.

But Tom held up his chin and defiantly responded, “Which mortal? I’m mortal. Roddy here is mortal. All of my friends are mortal. We all can die, bird man—except you. What’s your deal?”

I was stunned, honestly. He dared called a death angel ‘bird man’?

However, that intimidating winged guy said with no sense of humor, “Hanz Johaansen. He is an innocent.”

Snorting, Tom shook his head. “He’s decent, but I would not lay innocent on him. The guy’s not perfect, you know. If anyone is innocent here, it is Eve—that vimp. She has done nothing wrong.”

Which I realized was true. And not just technically. And it sent shivers through me. All this time I had seen her come to my beach—powerful, dangerous, warned of by the imps, avoided by the vampires—she had not hurt one soul. Not one. Dag nab it. She really was a total goodie-goodie demon. She really was an innocent.

I felt so guilty thinking about it, myself compared to her.

But the towering winged man whom no one but Tom and I could see replied again with grave insistence, “You are to protect him from that vimp. You must be his guardian angel.”

Guardian angel. Tom Brown? Trouble? I looked at him and saw Tom rolling his eyes more.

“I am already playing guardian angel for too many people,” Tom said. “Besides, I think Eve is his guardian angel.”

Those chills swept over me, watching that winged giant bristle at Tom’s overt defiance.

“She’s a guardian to many already,” Tom added sharply, giving me a shoulder squeeze as if to indicate me as one of those she was guarding. “You’re just jealous.”

She was guarding me? Is that how Tom saw her catching me and coercing me to leave free California to go to a New York freak private school? I mean, yeah, it was better than jail but…

“We do not get jealous!” the bulky winged dude’s voice cut into my thoughts. He sounded oddly petty, though. Not very angelic in his protest.  But even I could see that he was jealous of Eve. Tom had nailed it, somehow. It was weird. Even though they had no imps, as they were beings on another level, they did get jealous… though I was not exactly sure what they were jealous of. However I could tell they were mostly territorial—and she was in their territory. And worse, they wanted to do something about it, but for some reason could not—like they weren’t allowed. I could see it as plain as the huge feathery gray wings on his back.

But it also hit me that maybe she really was my guardian angel. I mean thinking about it, I realized that her presence had kept the really freaky people away from my beach. There had not been any nasty crime on my beach since her arrival there. Not even a drowning—not when she was around anyway. And as I thought on it, I realized that she had even led me to her friends. She had led me to hope.

Shivers went down my arms. My determination to go to New York returned. It really was the best thing for me to do.

Glaring at us for a full five minutes, the ‘angel’ finally stalked away.

Tom breathed hard once they were gone. He looked entirely winded. I was amazing he had kept it up so well. He had seemed so unintimidated by them. I was entirely convinced at least.

He shared a look with me that said it was not wise to tell anyone what we had seen. He whispered, “Not even our coolest friends would understand.”

And I nodded in agreement. More people were inclined to believe in snarky devils than in dangerous angels. And I for one knew the unseen world was a lot bigger than just a handful of imps. Us halfs just didn’t talk about them. Talking about them was like inviting them to visit.

“Let’s catch a bus,” Tom said, gesturing to the side of the road then going transparent so normal humans could not see him. I could see him, of course. The only reason I knew he was no longer entirely solid was that his voice had shifted almost entirely into imp tones which resonated in my head rather than in my ear. Since I knew Tom would not just let me walk off, I copied him and went along.

The way Tom Brown went about was entirely not human, I realized after a while. He moved like an imp. He messed with his gravity all the time, and in imp form he just floated up to the top of the covered bus stop and sat on it with hardly any weight—that is, if a soap bubble had weight. I copied him, feeling weird.

Ok, it wasn’t like I had never done that, but I don’t think I had ever done it with such casual ease. For Tom it was like second nature, and it gave me more reasons to envy him and understand why the imps loved him so much. He had truly embraced his inner imp. And while sitting with him, waiting for a bus I was sure we had no