Houger let Dean know that he could still get a ride but it would have to wait. An ambulance was on the way for Kovak and they couldn’t leave before that. Looking at Kovak holding his broken forearm Dean decided to just walk. It wasn’t that far and he could be lucky. He might see Sonya on the way.

Handing Houger a business card Aggie forced him to carry. Letting him know he would walk there and to leave a message if they needed him to leave a statement. It might take him a bit to get to them but he would as soon as he could.

The walk to Dorios’s Starbucks was short but extremely stressful. Dean's nerves were stretched thin expecting Anil to pop out at any time. His palms sweated profusely as he walked causing him to wipe his hand on his pants to dry them. Like a nervous tic, he didn’t notice as Santiago walking up behind him pressing a gun into his back.

“Dorios wants to see you,” he said pressing the gun deeper into Dean’s back. “Sonya is waiting for you at his place.”

“No need to shove a gun into my back,” he said walking a bit faster to get the gun out of his back.

Santiago just grunted at that response deciding anymore talking was useless. His pace keeping up with Dean’s the gun kept against Dean’s back.

“You don’t need to keep the gun on me,” Dean said, “But keep it out in case Anil decides to attack again.”

Ignoring Dean, Santiago pushed the gun deeper into Dean’s back. Letting him know that Santiago wasn’t afraid of Anil attacking.

As Dorios’s Starbucks came closer Dean could feel all the eyes staring at him. Trying to find the people watching him was a fruitless effort. His only knowledge of spotting spotters was what he learned from movies.

“People watching us? Is that why you’re not worried about Anil attacking?” Dean asked trying to get any information from Santiago.

A grunt and a possible imperceptible nod due to Santiago being behind him was all the affirmation that Dean received.

Reaching the front door to the coffee shop was accompanied by a final push by Santiago. Looking over his shoulder Dean saw Santiago holster his gun and in the same motion pulled out his phone to text someone.

Assuming he was messaging Dorios that he was there. Dean had a sudden impulse to smack the phone out of his hands. But he quickly reigned that feeling in feeling that it was suicidal at best.

Entering the shop, the door clicked locked behind him. Pulling his gun out if this was an ambush, he checked the door making sure it was locked. A door marked employees only opened up and Dorios walked out. Dean quickly pointed his gun at him, ready to shoot at a moment’s notice.

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“No need to point a gun at me,” Dorios said as raised his hands. “Sonya is downstairs cleaning up and said you would be here soon.”

Still, pointing his gun at Dorios Dean asked, “Did she say anything else?

“She did. She said Anil attacked you but I find that absolutely ludicrous,” Dorios said dropping his hand. “If he did attack you, you would be dead. And he would be long gone.”

At that Dean, lowered his gun. Refusing to reupholster it. Putting his back to a wall away from the window he kept his eyes on Dorios.

“Where is Sonya right now?” Dean asked.

“Sonya?” Dorios asked, “Is that what Nameless’s birth name is? She is downstairs taking a shower in my private office. If you want, we can wait down there. The seating is much more comfortable.”

Keeping his gun drawn Dean nodded head that would work. Following Dorios go down a flight of stairs first, he followed him at a distance. Once in the basement, Dean took a look around.

Expecting to see boxes of cups, coffee, and syrup Dean was instead in a stylish business office. A coffee-colored oak desk dominated the center of the room. Multiple monitors sat on the desk. Two of them running a complex algorithm while the center one monitored the stock market. A collection of ancient looking books governed the shelves behind it.

Directly behind the desk in between the bookshelves laid a painting. An elderly man’s headshot partially painted as if by a classically trained artist. A true masterpiece in the making. And by the smell of it still drying. Dorios sat beneath it and if one didn’t know better would have thought it was his father.

Dorios sat under it his hands steepled, observing Dean looking at the painting.

“Do you like it?” he asked Dean. “It’s a hobby I picked up during the 1500s.”

“I’ve always been more of a fan of Banksy personally,” Dean replied offhandedly.

“I’ve always been more partial to Ron English when it comes to pop art,” Dorios said back. “You know, I can talk about art all day. If you think about it, periods of art are pretty close to television shows and movies. Some of the greatest pieces of art became series repeated with the times like seasons of a tv show. But the truly great pieces were closer to box office hits. Every sequel and reboot of it ultimately pale imitations of the original. The amount of time I’ve spent admiring pieces of art through the ages has to rival what an American spends on the couch rotting their brains away.”

“I didn’t come here to talk about art,” Dean replied a little off balance. He hadn’t expected Dorios to go into a weird rant on tv and art. “Where is Sonya?” he asked.

“Most likely finishing up in the shower,” he said. “Even with all the time, she has spent in the wilds learning her craft they still bathed. From what she said imprisonment didn’t have much for those amenities.”

“What else did she say?” Dean asked.

“That she needed a shower bad. Also that you would be with us soon and that The Grimoire is stuck somewhere in the Grimmlands,” Dorios said.

“Can you help me rescue Aggie then?” Dean asked.

“Unfortunately, no. The Druid Brother was the only one capable of opening a way to the Grimmlands under my purview. Also, the only person I have ever met that could track something down their also,” Dorios said. “But don’t worry The Grimoire is quite capable of taking care of himself. Now tell me what you did to cause Anil to attack you.”

At that Dean sat down to tell Dorios everything that happened.