Page 36 of Concluded (The Bureau #13)

D ee was a deck of cards, shuffled and reshuffled. A blizzard swirling across a plain. A sandy beach battered and stirred by stormy seas. A rubber band stretched allllmost to breaking.

And then he was a person again, kneeling in the dirt and puking his guts out, as Achilles did the same right next to him. Ish was there too, curled into a tight ball and possibly unconscious. Maybe angels didn’t barf.

“I most sincerely hope,” said Achilles, pausing to spit, “we never have to do that again.”

“Amen.”

“But you did it. None of us is a fly.”

That seemed to be the case. Dee rose unsteadily to his feet and looked around.

They’d landed—if that was the right term—on soil that was covered with layers of evergreen needles.

Trees towered so high overhead that it was difficult to see their tops, while the understory was thick with brush and small greenery.

He heard water burbling nearby. The air was cold enough to make him shiver.

Twenty yards away, in a small clearing, was a wooden cabin with solar panels on the roof and what looked like an early-spring vegetable garden in front. It was rustic but adorable, the sort of place where you could imagine Snow White and her entourage hanging out.

Instead, two Paul Bunyans with full gray beards came rushing from behind the cabin. The larger one was barefoot.

Achilles, who was evidently still dealing with the aftereffects of being magicked, shot upright and held up his hands. “Art Gunderson?” he yelled. “I’m Achilles Spanos.”

That slowed the men slightly, but they still approached at a speed impressive for their size and apparent age. They weren’t even out of breath when they got near enough to stop and survey their unexpected visitors.

“Spanos?” the one with boots asked uncertainly.

“Yeah. This is my… my partner, Dee Martell. And this is Chief Grimes’s father. I promise I’ll explain, but could you help us, please?”

The bigger man—Jesus, his insteps were furry —didn’t even hesitate before scooping Ish carefully into his arms, turning, and heading toward the cabin. When everyone else started to follow, Dee stumbled. He would have fallen if Achilles hadn’t caught him.

“You need to lie down for a while,” Achilles scolded him. “Lean on me.”

Dee swallowed his pride and obeyed, partly because he needed the support and partly because it felt good to lean on that strong body—and to trust that Achilles would support him as much as he needed.

They all went inside, and the interior was nicer than Dee expected.

One room had a couch, a couple of armchairs, a table and chairs, and a neat little kitchen.

Through an open door, a bedroom was visible.

A flight of stairs led to an open loft with another bed and a bunch of overstuffed bookshelves.

Most of the furniture looked hand-hewn, and while the walls and floor were bare wood, there was also a scattering of bright area rugs and woven wall hangings.

And, somewhat inexplicably, a framed poster for a punk rock band called Steep Descent.

That was about as much as Dee managed to take in before sagging in Achilles’ arms. He had the vague sense of conversation going on around him before Achilles half carried him up to the loft and guided him to the bed.

“Ish?” he asked before drifting away.

Achilles patted his arm. “He’s fine. Rest.”

So Dee did.

* * *

He must have slept for several hours. By the time he shuffled down from the loft, low sunlight—barely managing to break through the forest canopy—slanted through the windows.

The cabin smelled pleasantly of food, and although the man with the hairy feet was sprawled in an armchair, there was no sign of Achilles or the other man.

Ish was just barely visible in the bedroom.

“Your guy and Art are outside having a confab. Help yourself to bread and stew. Oh, and I’m Jerry.” He had a slight Southern twang and, congruent with his size, a deep voice.

“Thanks.” Dee’s stomach rumbled loudly enough to make both of them laugh. “I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

“It’s venison, so if you’re a vegetarian you’re out of luck.”

Dee was definitely not a vegetarian; he filled a big bowl and sawed off a hunk of what looked like homemade sourdough. He sat on the couch to eat. “This is delicious.”

“We don’t cook anything complicated, but we’re pretty good at it.”

“Do you… live off the land?” There wasn’t exactly a neighborhood Safeway.

“Mostly. We carry in some stuff about once a month, but we hunt, gather, or grow the rest.”

“I’m impressed. That takes a lot of work.”

Jerry shrugged. “We’re used to it. We have a pretty cushy setup here. Solar power. Running water. Composting toilet. We’ve got a place in town too, but we’re not there much except during the height of winter. We need a big personal space bubble.” He grinned.

“I’m sorry we invaded you without warning.”

“Naw, you’re fine. Biggest surprise us codgers have had in a while. We met an elf last year, but you guys have topped that one for sure.”

Dee liked this man who, despite his size, seemed gentle and sort of goofy. He reminded Dee of a Newfoundland dog he’d once lived next door to. “Did Achilles tell you what’s going on?”

“Yeah. Me and Art have never paid much attention to the news, but lately it’s been so bad we’ve avoided it completely.

We’ve got a ham radio, but that’s just for weather reports, or if we have an emergency.

I guess we’re pretty chicken, hiding out here and pretending the rest of the world doesn’t exist.”

Dee swallowed a mouthful of bread dipped in stew. “From what I understand, you two put in your time and earned retirement. Me, I spent my whole life mostly ignoring everyone else. I’m only in the middle of things now because I got dragged in.”

Jerry scrunched up his face thoughtfully. “You’re not a regular human, right? Sorry—Art says my manners need work. Don’t mean to be rude.”

“I don’t mind. I was kind of raised by wolves myself. Um, not literally,” he added quickly. Then he thought about the coyotes he’d met. “Actually, wolves probably would have been an improvement.”

That made Jerry chuckle. “You maybe heard I’m not a regular human either.

” He lifted one of his enormous furry feet and wiggled his toes.

“I grew up among humans, though. Lots of ’em weren’t nice.

Even the ones that were, well, I always knew I wasn’t one of ’em.

Took me a while before I found a place where I felt like I belonged. And a person to belong to. You know?”

It was strange. Jerry’s words didn’t change anything about Dee’s past or about his current situation.

But just hearing them—knowing that he wasn’t the only person to have experienced this and that someone empathized—somehow made it all feel less oppressive.

“It all worked out for you?” he asked, needing a little more reassurance.

“We’ve had fifty years together. I won’t say we never argue, ’cause we do, now and then. We’ve both had to compromise sometimes. But I think I’m the luckiest guy in the world.”

A little of the tightness in Dee’s soul loosened. “I don’t know if we’re getting fifty years. We just met, and now the world’s going to shit….”

“Yeah, that’s tough. Me and Art, when we first met, we just had a serial killer to deal with. Art got kidnapped and tortured and almost died; it wasn’t Armageddon, though.”

Dee snorted. “Achilles also got kidnapped and tortured and almost died—or worse. And here I was, thinking our meet-cute was unique.”

Jerry stood, took Dee’s bowl, and lumbered into the kitchen to dish up seconds. He also filled a glass with water and brought them both over. “You’re only our second houseguests,” he said, handing them to Dee. “Do you know Ralph Crespo and his husband Anton?”

It took Dee a moment to remember. “No, but I think I heard of them. Is Ralph, um, a dragon?” And here he was, living in a world where questions like this made perfect sense.

“Yep. Anton’s a gnome. Great guys. Anyway, when they met, Anton was kidnapped and tortured and almost died. We could start a club.”

They’d all survived, at least so far. Maybe a relationship begun in adversity wasn’t doomed. They were all tough cookies, it seemed—good people to have as allies.

Maybe they all really did have a chance.

* * *

When Achilles reentered the cabin, cheeks pink from the outdoor chill, the very first thing he did was hurry to Dee’s side for a quick visual inspection. “Are you all right? That last charm didn’t take too much out of you? Did you get enough rest?” It was embarrassing and sweet.

“I’m fine,” Dee insisted. “I checked on Ish a few minutes ago. He looks comfortable. He said some things, but I don’t understand the language.”

Achilles sighed as he sat down. “Probably Homeric Greek. He’s sort of been stuck on The Iliad today.”

“Achilles dies at the end.”

“Not in the actual text. Lots of other people die, but Homer doesn’t mention Achilles kicking it,”

“But we all know he’s going to because of the prophecy.”

Achilles made a dismissive gesture. “As far as I know, angels aren’t oracles, so I’m not taking it as a bad omen. Hey, do you mind coming outside with me for a bit? Art and I have been talking, and I don’t want to put you on the spot without discussing things with you first.”

That was also sweet, although Dee worried about what Achilles was going to say.

He had to borrow one of Art’s coats, which was ridiculously large on him even though Dee himself was not a small man. Then he followed Achilles out the door, through the garden, and to a picnic bench next to a firepit. “This is a really nice place,” Dee said as he took a seat.

“Would you want to live somewhere like this?” Achilles looked a little worried.

“No. I’m not the wilderness type. Vacation, maybe. I never went to summer camp as a kid or did anything outdoorsy as an adult.”

“And I’m kind of attached to takeout Thai and streaming video services. But yeah. Vacation. Sorry I sort of abandoned you in there.”