Chapter 60: Dad’s, Daughter’s, and Daggers

Who: Theresa “Tess” Armstrong

I hate these old-people parties, but I was good at them. The bane of my existence—Mom’s dinner parties—had trained me well, however, and it was for Book. A good cause, don’t get me wrong, but I’ve never had money problems the way Book always did. It just seemed to gravitate to me, with hard work being my default setting. I would never call my best friend lazy—he really wasn’t—and when he had a cause or a bug up his ass about a project, nothing could stop him. The difference being, I did not need a cause to work my shapely ass into top shape.

God—or Mother; I still sucked at getting that right—these new showers were beyond awesome. The only thing that would make them better would be a hand-held shower head; some…parts…could use a bit more close-up attention, if you get my drift.

//Subtle as always, my Lady//

‘Dammit Sai, you know I hate it when you call me that.’

//Of course, Madame. How do you say…’my bad’?//

‘Are you sure you don’t have a Zen Master setting? Check again.’

//I do my best//

Now I felt lower than dog shit. Leave it to me to hurt a computer’s feelings, go Tess!

‘Peace, Sai. Maybe you could up plans for that shower head idea, then I can give it to Magali. Book’s not the only one that can dish out otherwordly knowledge.’

//Speaking of, I have been talking to Sia and we agree that at some point you and Book will need to disclose your origins. Sooner rather than later, Miss//

‘You two talk a lot, that’s good.’ I knew he was right, but I dreaded that conversation. Who would even believe us? ‘You and Sia are the only ones of your kind, just like me and Book, so we gotta keep together.’

//Mean Book? That is not very nice of you//

‘What? Oh, that stupid grammar thing. Where did you dig that up from? My old English teacher, Mrs. Beadles, huh?’

//Book would never say that//

‘Yeah, and Book would have never have survived here without me, so there.’ I'm starting to think we were supposed to get each other's AI.

//I am not so sure. He is farther along in [Level]ing than you are//

‘Quantity maybe, but quality is all mine.’ It was true, too. Just like in my martial arts training, I had been lucky enough to find a Master—ironic use, huh?—who cared more about teaching me to fight IRL than simply advancing belts. It has literally been a lifesaver.

//An observation, Miss Tess, you have been standing under the hot water for thirty-seven minutes. The scroll is about…//

“Ahhh! Son of a bitch, motherfu…cold! Cold, cold!”

//…to fail//

‘Five-minute warning next time, OK?’ My skin rippled with goosebumps, the chill making my shoulders hunch. I quickly turned the water off, and grabbed my thick fuzzy towel. I thought about replacing the [heat] scroll—kinda like the last person replacing the toilet paper roll—but figured, nah.

I dried off and dressed in my new adventurer leathers, sans the over armor. The forthcoming party wasn’t at the danger level, but I felt better when made up like the real me. I had even been toying with the idea of following Book’s example, and shaving my head. Damn, it would make things so much easier, both battle-wise and convenient-wise. Definitely food for thought.

Food! I was starving, burning [mana] and calories like a fat man at a buffet. And Mother, Gaelia could cook. It was like having a four-star chef living in the house with us—on tap, so to speak. The smells wafting up from the kitchen had me dressed and jogging down the steps in no time at all.

When I reached the lounge, the gang was all there. Book was wearing his nicest robes, Magali in what could only be described as a pin-striped suit—add a fedora and he was a nineteen-fifties mobster.

“He sends one of yours to the hospital, you send one of his to the morgue…”

Dude, Book has really corrupted me with these old movies We are becoming way too much alike.

//Almost like you are soulmates?//

‘Whoa, whoa, no.’

//Then platonic ones, if not romantic. Though it would be nice, all things considered, Miss Tess//

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‘What’s that to you?’

//Nothing//

OK, that word was heavily loaded. ‘Dude, do you think if Book and I got together, then you and Sia…?’

//Don’t be ridiculous//

‘Well, we’ll never be more than good friends, got it?’

//I understand. But you are two lost souls, bound together in a way most could not truly comprehend//

‘True, true, Sai. Platonic soulmates works for me.’

“Tess, good,” Gaelia called out to me. “You have a better palate than these neophytes…”

“What?”

“Hey!”

“No fair.”

“Agreed.”

The rest of the group showed offense, all except Paytin who knew the truth when she heard it.

“This is fine dining, not meat on a stick served out of a cart.”

Ouch, I loved those kabobs just as much as Book did, but now I couldn’t say it aloud.

Gaelia handed me a small piece of toast, with a wet cheese, a purple tomato thingy, and a drizzle of oils on it. I popped it my mouth whole.

“Sweet Mother, Gael, that is freaking on point!” Our budding chef smiled shyly, the praise making her eyes glow. I wasn’t blowing smoke, either. “If the rest is like this, you ‘ll put the old dudes in a food coma and it’ll be a snap for Tak to get her kit.” I knew the importance of proper equipment and was all in for helping the firebrand get hers.

I plopped in one of the new chairs that Maldyn and Gaelia had supplied. Apparently second-hand wasn’t good enough, not that I’m complaining—I like nice stuff, more so if somebody else foots the bill.

The rest of the night was a bore, the only highlight being the food. I love food. Then the habitual after-dinner tea and scones—I don’t know why Book had it in for these gooseberry sconces, I couldn’t get enough, especially with sweet cream. I really missed sweets; chocolate, high fructose corn syrup, refined sugar, all of it. Honey was alright, I guess, but I craved the good ‘bad’ stuff. And coffee. Red Bull. Nachos and jalapeños. Damn, now I’m hungry again.

‘Hey Sai, think you could come up with a good nacho recipe I can pass to Gael?’

//Certainly, Miss. Are you ready for it?//

‘Fire.’

//You might want to write this down; corn chips and cheese. Did you get all of that, Miss?//

‘What would happen to you if I stuck a fork in a light socket?’

//Alas, we will never know. *Sigh*, just as you are influenced by Book, Sia has corrupted me as well. Maybe I should build a firewall for when we connect//

‘At least you are getting ‘connected’; with Kolin gone I have a serious case of blue balls.’

//Anatomically impossible, Miss//

‘It's the concept.’

I really should be paying attention, huh? I’m supposed to be supportive, a fine example of the ‘young adventurer’.

“You don’t understand, I know what happens in the adventure life! All of us do,” Tak’s father, Harms, gestured expansively around the circle of chairs. “I’m only thinking of you.”

“No, you are not. You are thinking of yourself, father, not me.”

“The young woman is right, Harms.” That was Book’s Master, Alric. This was only the second time I’d seen him, and he was quite the specimen. Rotund and clad in finely tailored robes, bling on his fingers, and a definite influence on Book with his beard game. We are talking Gandalf level, here. Damn, Tess, you are a walking cliche these days. In my defense, the old wizard was the first beard reference most people defaulted to, at least most humans.

And on that note, I could really use some action right now. I wonder which one of these geezers would be the hardest to take down?

“You forget your youth, Harms.” Alric was still talking.

“No, I don’t, and that is exactly my problem. I remember it all, and well you should, Alric. What if what happened to you happens to my daughter?”

What’s this? I sense something juicy.

//Sia and I have some theories, but we aren’t ready to share them yet//

“Nonsense,” said Magali’s father. “That was a freak chance, not likely to ever happen again.”

“Not after what we did, anyway,” said Tounsel.

‘He is Gael’s Master, and uncle, right Sai?’

//Correct. He is also Maldyn’s uncle//

That dude’s face always reminds me of a ferret.

“If you ask me,” said Ponce—Sai was the only way I could remember all these names. “The best way to protect her is giving the highest quality of gear.”

“Your answer is always money, Ponce. And no one asked you; this is Team business not gold digging.”

If Ponce minded his brother’s tone, you sure couldn’t tell as he sipped his whiskey-laden tea. “Maybe, but money can be the answer if you are determined enough. Besides, dear brother, Team Vaunted disbanded three decades ago. Now you are just a bunch of old men that get up four times a night to pee. Hells, without Philly here to beef up the testosterone you look more like a sewing circle.”

“Ponce,” Tounsel said in a long-suffering tone. Anybody who has siblings knows the one I’m talking about.

“You are only upset because we didn’t let you tag along,” Tobiaz Wordsworth threw his hat in the ring.

This was going nowhere. “OK, Tak’s Dad, if you know anything about your daughter, then you know she isn’t going to give this up. The real question is, do you want your little girl to die a horrific death?”

Stunned silence, followed by spluttering.

“H-how dare you?!” Harms stood up, incensed. He rushed over to loom over me, and I calmly crossed my legs, not worried.

At least I wasn’t, not until the rest of the old men surged up from their respective seats. Was I going to be ganged up on by the world’s oldest gangsters?

Then they did something that really had me worried, on the edge of being scared, even. They didn’t surround me like I expected—good, I didn’t want to knock around the elderly—but instead grabbed a hold of Harms. WTF? I was about to burst out a laugh when I saw it—the oldster was holding something in his hand.

What was…Oh, fuck!

The very steady, non-palsied hand clutched a jawbone from some horror movie, the jagged teeth still attached as he held it inverted. OK, I’ve seen Tak with a similar nightmare dagger, but this one was different—it scared the shit out of me. Instead of off-white like bone should be, it was a queasy-looking green with yellow—not yellowed, more like sunshine and daisies—with purple veining. Waves of hate radiating from the cursed weapon. I’d done it, fucked up more than I could recover from.

To make matters worse, the rest of his old Team was having clear trouble holding him back.

“Dad, stop!”

“Nobody says…!”

My friends were standing around gape-faced, with Gael clasping a tray of sticky buns to her chest, the hot caramel sticking to her robes.

Play it cool, Tess.

//Miss, that dagger holds more [mana] than I have ever sensed in a single item!//

Oh, I’m toast…

Bang! Bang-bang!

I reflexively hunched and hugged myself—was I shot? No, no guns on this world.

Bang!

Sweet Mother and Her mossy pubes, it was the front door. The sudden pause of everyone in the room gave me the out I needed. Sliding gracefully from my seat and skirting the skirmishing old dudes, I sauntered over to the reverberating wooden door.

Whoever it was, it had to be better than the melee my present company had devolved to. And I was normally so good with people, too!

Boy, was I wrong.

“Kolin? What happened?!”