The Village (Harbingers Book 12) Read online

  “This town has another hotel?” I asked.

  “Well, no. I didn’t mean in Newland, I meant somewhere else. There’s a hotel up the road a piece. I hear it’s real nice.”

  “How far up the road?” Andi’s words were coming out a little sharper than usual.

  “Not far. Just fifty or sixty miles.”

  “Fifty or sixty miles!”

  I could tell Brenda was about to launch herself over the counter. I put a hand on her shoulder and gave a little squeeze. She pressed her lips together so tight that I expected to hear one of them blow out like an old tire. A second later, Daniel was standing at her side. When I say standing at her side, I mean he had pressed himself against her leg. She put a hand on his shoulder kinda like I had put one of my mitts on her.

  She took a ragged breath. “You’re going to turn us out onto the street. You’re telling us that the only thing we can do is take my son up a winding, narrow mountain road in the dark to some other hotel just so you don’t have to bother with us?”

  Daniel sniffed. I glanced at the boy. His lower lip quivered. His eyes were wet. He looked at the floor, then leaned his head against Brenda’s hip as if sorrow had made it too heavy to hold erect. If I were a member of the group that nominates actors for the Oscars, I would put Daniel’s name in for an award.

  “Son?” Jewel looked from Daniel’s white face to Brenda’s ebony skin.

  “What? You don’t think a black woman can adopt a white kid? Is that what all this is about? Race?”

  “No, of course not.”

  “Then what is the problem, lady?” Brenda’s tone grew hotter. “You gonna throw us back into the dark rather than release three of your precious rooms?”

  She looked out the front window. “I can’t get you to leave, can I?”

  “No ma’am.” I smiled when I said that.

  Jewel marched around the front desk, then beat feet to the front door. I watched and then waited for her to tell us to get out. Instead, she locked the door, twisting the deadbolt latch several times to make certain it had engaged. She then checked to make sure the front windows were still battened down. With brisk movements she closed the curtains over the window, taking a peek out as if expecting a visit from the local pitchfork-and-torch mob.

  “Okay, okay. I’ll give you three rooms.” She hustled back behind the desk. “Do you mind walking up stairs? Our elevator doesn’t work. Never had the money to get the thing fixed.”

  “Maybe that’s because you keep sending paying customers away.”

  I wish Brenda hadn’t said that. Jewel ignored her.

  “We don’t mind stairs,” Andi said. I started to differ, but settled on being glad that I wouldn’t be driving any more tonight.

  “Thank you, ma’am.” I gave my best smile again; the one I save for special occasions. “It’ll only take me a moment to get the luggage from the car.”

  “No!” the mouse roared. “I mean, leave it. Get it in the morning.”

  “We have toiletries and clothes in there—”

  “I don’t care. I’ve already locked up.” She looked at the door. “I don’t any more strangers walking through the door. If I had known you were coming I would have locked it before you got here.”

  “Why?” Brenda asked. “Does the boogie man live in Newland?”

  “No. He left when he got scared.” Jewel fidgeted with the keys. “Look, I’ll let you stay for free. Just don’t unlock the door. Got it?”

  “No, I don’t got it.” Brenda’s flame was growing hotter.

  “This is the deal. You stay for free but you don’t go out until the sun is up tomorrow. If you’re hungry—”

  “We are,” I said.

  She studied me with worried eyes for a moment. “A man your size must be hungry all the time.”

  “Not all the time . . . okay, you’re right.”

  Jewel pointed to a door in the back wall and near the western corner. “That’s the kitchen. Feel free to make a meal for yourself. There’s eggs, bacon and the like. You can have breakfast for dinner.” She paused to let another thought in. “There’s some leftover fried chicken I made yesterday. Mashed potatoes and gravy, too. You’ll have to heat that up, but it should fill the hole.”

  Fried chicken, potatoes, and gravy. I considered kissing Jewel on her little mouse nose.

  “That’s very kind of you.”

  I don’t think she heard the compliment. “Stay away from the windows. And by all that is holy, don’t open them.”

  “Until sunup, right?” Andi said. She gave me a knowing look that said This woman is a couple of sandwiches shy of a picnic.

  “Right.”

  Andi pressed a little harder. “I don’t suppose you want to explain all this. What are you afraid of?”

  “You’re right, ma’am, I don’t want to explain it.”

  “Leave the woman alone,” Brenda said. “We have rooms. Let’s be happy about that.”

  Andi’s expression said she wasn’t satisfied with the suggestion, but she didn’t object. When Brenda was right, Brenda was right.

  “Good.” Jewel pushed the keys forward. “Third floor. The windows look out the back and onto the mountains. Real pretty in the morning. The rooms don’t have bathrooms. Halfway down the hall you’ll find a men’s and women’s facility. Showers are in there, too. It takes a few minutes for the hot water to make its way up to the third floor, so be patient.”

  She reached beneath the counter and pulled out a handful of toothbrushes, still in their factory wrapping, thank the Lord, four combs, and four tiny hair brushes. She also retrieved those small bottles of shampoo, conditioner, and soap in a box. She was well stocked for all the people who didn’t stay in her hotel.

  We each said thank you, some of us more sincerely than others, and started up the stairs. I led the way. From behind me I heard Brenda say, “Nope, that wasn’t weird at all.” Yep, she is still the queen of sarcasm.

  Chapter Three

  Breakfast for Dinner

  The rooms were nice enough. Not grand. Not even business class. Back in my college football playing days our football team had better rooms when we were out of town for away games. That was then; this was now. I guess most people would call the place quaint. The carpet was brown and looked clean; the bed looked like something dragged out of the fifties but with less style. There was an inexpensive dresser, a side chair, and an end table, all made from oak. The finish had yellowed over time. Still, there was nothing to complain about—except the wallpaper. Like the carpet in the lobby, the wallpaper reminded me of pictures I had seen of homes from the late 1800s. It was gaudy, overdone, and worse, had flowers with faces on them just like the lobby carpet. I didn’t know if I could undress in front of all those tiny eyes. No wonder the hotel was empty. To anyone with an active imagination, this was a room designed to raise nightmares.

  I also noticed that there was no phone in the room. I guess if you needed to contact the front desk you had to walk down three flights of stairs. In some ways the room was homey, if home was an empty old hotel run by a frightened, mousy woman.

  Still, the place would do.

  We didn’t spend much time upstairs. I found the others standing in the hall just a few feet from my door.

  “Did you see that wallpaper?” Andi asked. She looked a tad pale.

  “Don’t tell me,” I said, “you want to get some for your place.”

  “Not a chance.” Andi frowned. “Good thing I sleep with my eyes closed.”

  “I’m hungry.” Daniel turned and marched to the stairs. The kid wasn’t shy about such things.

  “Since we have to go down to the first floor to eat,” Brenda said, “I think we should slip out and get our luggage.”

  I reminded her that a promise was a promise and we had made a promise not to open the doors or windows. She called me a self-righteous side of beef. That was a new one. I didn’t waste any brain cells trying to figure out if a side of beef could be righteous. I don’t offend
easily. “Small brain but thick hide,” my father used to say. I suppose that’s one reason he never won Father-of-the-Year.

  Three flights of stairs later we were back in the lobby and moved into the kitchen. The kitchen, like the rest of the place, looked like a tribute to the finest appliances of the 50s. The good news was that Jewel had spoken the truth about the food. There was fried chicken and the makings for a decent breakfast. Since there wasn’t enough chicken to go around, I offered to whip up some scrambled eggs, bacon, and toast. Daniel liked the idea. Brenda and Andi insisted on helping.

  We’re normally a chatty bunch but there was little conversation while we worked. Brenda kept cutting her eyes to the window behind the heavy curtains.

  “Our car is parked just outside that wall, right?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “You know, I could slip out the window and—”

  “C’mon, Brenda. Let it go.” I turned the bacon over. It smelled heavenly. I was a little hungry when we started, now I was starved.

  “She doesn’t have the right to make demands like that. It’s not like we’re related to her. I ain’t used to takin’ orders from strangers. I ain’t used to takin’ orders from anybody.”

  This is where I miss the professor. He had a way of irritating Brenda into submission. He would say stuff like, “Use that brain of yours, Barnick.” Of course, she would lash back but then she would tone down. The two drove each other bonkers and the rest of us had to go along for the ride.

  But the professor wasn’t here. Dr. James McKinney was a sixty something walking encyclopedia. In his younger days he had been a Jesuit priest, but something turned him sour on faith. He left the Jesuits, he left the Church, he left behind any belief he had in God and adopted a new Gospel—one that said there is no God and religion is a poison to society. The fact that I’m one of those evangelical Christians irritated him. It didn’t matter. I wasn’t going to change. Of course, I always hoped he would change. He did—some.

  Then he killed himself.

  Well, that’s what the police said. He left a strange note which we still don’t fully understand. Andi carries it with her all the time. She had been his assistant for years. Demanding as he was, he had become a father figure to her. I guess he became a father figure to all of us. We loved the cantankerous, irritable man with his constant I’m-smarter-than-you attitude. And he was right most of the time.

  Brenda took his passing harder than she wanted us to know. She is a tough girl. When she gets her mad on she can frighten rabid dogs into fleeing. She was a force of nature and I did my best not to cross her. When we first learned the professor had gone missing we were frightened. Our missions have put us up against some very nasty people, but the professor’s note sure made the suicide angle look true. Brenda showed little emotion at first, but we saw signs that the loss of the professor had gutted her like a fish. I caught her crying once and she threatened my life if I told anyone.

  “What’s eating you, Brenda?” Andi slipped eight fried eggs onto a platter we found in a cupboard. My suggestion of scrambled eggs got overruled. That’s two a piece. I asked for only two eggs because I planned on eating a piece or two of the cold fried chicken in the fridge so I didn’t want to overdo it.

  “I didn’t say anything was eatin’ me.”

  I noticed she didn’t make eye contact with Andi. No two women were more different than Andi and Brenda, and I don’t mean the whole black and white thing. Andi was everything Brenda was not: easy going, brilliant, a whiz at research, and sociable; Brenda was everything Andi was not: forceful, opinionated, and a skilled artist. They were yin-and-yang, tomato soup and grilled cheese. We were a better team when they were together than we were when one was missing.

  Andi sighed. “Have it your way, girl. We’re just your friends. You don’t owe us anything.”

  That was harsh and I steeled myself waiting for Brenda to go ballistic. She didn’t. And that scared the liver out of me. Instead she whispered one word: “Batman.”

  It doesn’t take much to derail my train of thought, but that was so out of character and made so little sense I didn’t know what to say. So I took the easy path. “Batman?”

  I pulled the bacon out of the pan and set it on a paper towel covered platter. I studied Brenda as she buttered up some toast.

  “Still hungry.” Daniel said.

  “Okay, buddy.” I carried my load of fried pig strips to the table, Andi brought the platter of fried eggs, and Brenda delivered the toast. We sat and I said a silent prayer. The others have gotten used to me doing that and give me a minute or so of quiet at most meals. While I was at it, I prayed for wisdom. I had a feeling I was gonna need it.

  We served ourselves, each ate a bite or two. Then Andi said, “Okay, girl, dish it. What’s this about Batman?”

  Brenda pushed her bacon around with her fork but didn’t look up. That wasn’t like her. Usually she looked you in the eye as if waiting for the right moment to spit in it.

  She inhaled. I took a bite of toast. “You know about Batman, right?”

  I shrugged. “Who doesn’t? You are talking about the guy in the comic books, right?”

  “Yes. I used to read them when I was a kid—when I could get them. What do you know about Batman?”

  “You mean the character? Not the guys that created him,” I said.

  “Yeah, the character.”

  Andi looked at me.

  “Batman is Bruce Wayne. When Wayne was a kid he saw his parents murdered in an alley of Gotham City. He dedicated his life to fighting crime. Studied. Trained. Became a famous superhero—although he’s not really a superhero.”

  “He’s not?” Daniel looked surprised.

  I explained. “He doesn’t have superpowers like Superman. He uses his training and skill to overcome bad guys.”

  “And?” Brenda prompted.

  Clearly I had forgotten something. “Oh, and he had a sidekick named Robin.”

  “What do you know about Robin?”

  I shrugged. Of course I read comics as a kid. Still read them occasionally, but I’m no expert. “He was called the ‘Boy Wonder.’ I think later he became the ‘Teen Wonder.’ If you want more detail, I’m going to disappoint you.”

  “I would do some research on the net,” Andi said. “If I could get cell service up here.”

  “No need. I already did that.” Brenda cut her egg but didn’t eat any of it. She had something to say, but didn’t want to say it. “I know Batman and Robin aren’t real, but I’ve been thinking about them. Ever since I became Daniel’s guardian. When I was a kid, Batman and Robin were cool. When I became a parent, I began to see Batman as a lousy guardian. I know this is gonna sound crazy, but shouldn’t someone have arrested Batman for child endangerment?”

  That filled the room with silence, except for Daniel who wanted more bacon.

  “I don’t get it . . .” Then I got it. “You mean because Robin was a kid.”

  “Exactly, Tank. The adult Batman dragged the child Robin into situations where his life was in danger. They faced super-villains, hoods with guns and knives and all kinds of things meant to kill, and Batman saw no problem putting a minor in the middle of the fight. Today Bruce Wayne would be hauled off to court and Robin—Dick Grayson, I mean—would be put into foster care.”

  “Brenda,” Andi said, “they’re not real. That’s all imagination and story telling.”

  Brenda looked at Daniel. “We’re real.”

  I’m not always the brightest crayon in the box, but I got that connection.

  Brenda pushed her plate to the side and Daniel swiped a slice of bacon off her plate. The kid had been hungry.

  I did a quick search of all the closets in my brain looking for the right thing to say; the thing that would ease her mind. The closets were bare. I looked at Andi. Twice she looked ready to speak, but nothing emerged from her pretty mouth.

  Brenda, however, still had things to say. “Think about what we’ve seen, what we’
ve been through. We’ve seen things no one would believe. We’ve all been in danger and a few times we’ve come close to being takin’ out. What happens to Daniel if . . .”

  Since Daniel was sitting next to her, she didn’t finish, but my brain, which was now running at top rpm, finished it for her: What happens to Daniel if I’m killed while on one of these missions? I was stunned by two things. First the question knocked me off my pins, then the fact that I had no answer finished me off.

  Brenda kept at it. “This is . . . what? The twelfth time we’ve gone on some crazy mission. We’ve lived through horrible things. Dangerous things. Eyeless people, dead fish falling from the air, orbs that follow us around, ghostly things, mind stealing pirates—” she looked at me “—creatures that swim in fog and make meals outta people. Daniel was there. Tank, if you hadn’t done what you did, we wouldn’t be here now and I wouldn’t be yammerin’ like a crazy woman.”

  “You’re not crazy, Brenda,” I said. “And you’re not yammering. We can tell this is important to you.”

  Boy, could I tell. Her eyes were wet and she kept biting her lip. A glance at Andi showed she suffered from the same wet eyes.

  Brenda took a deep breath, but kept her eyes fixed on her plate of half-eaten food. “Now the professor’s gone. As big a pain as he was in our corporate fannies, he was the real thinker among us. I don’t mean no offense.”

  “None taken.” Andi and I said that in unison.

  “If it was too much for old man McKinney, then I can’t figure out how we can do any better.”

  “He didn’t kill himself,” Andi said. “I told you I saw him in the mirror—”

  “He’s still gone, Andi.” That was a whisper. Even upset as she was, Brenda couldn’t bring herself to add to Andi’s misery. We had grown pretty close since this roller coaster began.

  “Where are you going with this?” Andi asked. “What’s the punchline?”

  Brenda leaned back in the chair, but didn’t make eye-contact. I knew she was serious because Brenda had no problem staring into anyone’s eyes, but at the moment she was softer than I had ever seen her.