The Inter-species Task Force, or ITF, had been set up, which basically gave the dregs of humanity free rein to hunt not only their own kind but anyone else that Arthur wanted removed. For the most part, the governments of the world were under Avalon’s control, and that meant anyone speaking out from the media was soon found with a bullet in the back of their head.
The resistance had gone online, spreading like wildfire to show the cruelty that Avalon was capable of, but the general public, in ostrichlike complicity, still thought it was conspiracy theories, that it wasn’t as bad as it was made out to be, or that those attacked had deserved it. At some point there would be a spark, and I hoped to be a part of it when it happened.
So long as Avalon didn’t kill me first.
I’d never heard of the KOA and had no idea which branch of Avalon it belonged to, but if Arthur had hired a bunch of Nazi thugs to make up its numbers, then it didn’t bode well.
Driving out of the town, I took the main road that led toward Mount Hood for a mile, then left it and continued up a dirt road toward my home. I’d sent a text to a friend of mine, Chris Hopkins, before getting in the car and told him to meet me here. Apart from Dr. Kuro, Chris was the only other person in Clockwork who knew who I was, and Dr. Kuro had told me to trust him with my life.
The dirt road eventually led to a fork, with one way clear and the other with a large wooden gate barring the way. Once I’d negotiated the gate, the drive to my home was relatively short.
I pulled the car up in front of my two-story house. I didn’t know who had owned the cabin before I’d come along, but it suited my needs perfectly. It was far enough away from town that, should the need arise, I could get away from people quickly, but it was close enough that I wasn’t labeled some weird hermit. It was made of dark wood and steel, with a tiled roof, and did wonders at keeping in the heat. Huge windows sat at the front of the building, letting in large amounts of light, and the solar panels on the roof ensured that it was almost completely off the grid for power. A generator sat in a nearby wooden shed, which helped out if anything went wrong, although nothing had in the two years I’d been there.
Chris Hopkins sat in one of the two chairs on my porch. He was just over six feet tall, lean, and clean shaven, with long dark hair that he kept half–tied up, allowing the rest to spill over his shoulders.
“How the hell did you get here so fast?” I asked, unlocking the house door. Chris had a key, but he’d told me he’d only use it in an emergency.
“I was already on my way here,” he said, stepping inside the house, shaking off his large coat, and hanging it next to mine.
“You want a drink?” I asked.
“Coffee, black, please,” Chris said, taking a seat on the leather armchair in the living room.
I made the drinks in the good-size kitchen and brought them back. “We have a problem,” I told him, passing Chris his coffee. I sat down with a cup of tea, placing it on a coaster on my coffee table, because I’m not a Neanderthal. “So why were you on your way here?” I asked.
“Heard some chatter about Avalon,” Chris said. His accent wasn’t American, but it was so nondescript that I couldn’t place it, and Chris had never shown any interest in telling me where exactly he was from.
“The KOA?” I asked.
“You heard too?”
“Had a run-in with some human Nazis who said they worked for the KOA. The Knights of Avalon. It’s why I texted you.”
“They’re not here for you,” Chris said confidently. “Or if they are, my friends in the know don’t actually know, and I find that hard to believe. Not sure why they’re here, to be honest, which I also find concerning. I’ve got a few feelers out to try and find more information, but you say they were Nazis?”
I nodded. “Tattoos of swastikas and everything. One of them punched me and gave me a kick to the ribs.”
“And he’s still alive?” Chris asked.
“Keeping a low profile, remember?”
“So? A lifetime of doing the exact opposite of that isn’t exactly easy to change.”
“They had guns.”
“Ah, yes, well, we don’t want you getting shot,” Chris said with a smile.
“No, we really don’t.”
“The Nazi connection is unpleasant,” Chris said, his smile evaporating. “I assumed they’d all fucked off once they’d lost the war. Doesn’t seem to matter how many of them you kill; they just come back.”
Chris might have looked like he was in his midforties, but in reality, and based on what he’d told me in the past, he was well over two thousand years old. I wasn’t certain exactly what Chris was, as he’d never divulged that information, but whatever he was, he was old and powerful. No one lives thousands of years without being the latter.
“I didn’t think that Arthur could bring Avalon any lower,” Chris continued, “but apparently I was wrong. I never did like the little shit. No one believed me when I said he was a psychotic, power-mad asshole, but hey, guess who was right?”
“I think you might have mentioned that once or twice before,” I said with a smirk.
Chris glowered. “It’s still true.”
“Can’t disagree with that,” I told him.
“So,” Chris said with a grin, “any twinges, signs of impending recovery?”
I shook my head. “Nothing. I had a cold a few weeks ago. I fucking hated having a cold.”
Chris laughed. “I can imagine. To be fair, Nate, none of us are quite sure what’s happening with you with regard to when you’ll get your magic back. It’s not an exact science, and very few people have ever been in your situation. Unfortunately, it’s still a case of just sitting and waiting for something to happen.”
“I know,” I said, feeling tired. “My friends are fighting and dying for a cause I can’t take part in. The woman I love and pretty much all of my friends think I’m dead. There is nothing about this situation that doesn’t absolutely suck.”
“So to cheer yourself up, you’re going to watch Ava play football?” Chris asked.
“I like watching them play; they’re a good side. Besides, it feels normal, you know. And precious little about my life these days feels normal.” I told Chris about Jessica’s involvement with the man at Duke’s.
“Have you spoken to Jess about it?” Chris asked.
“I tried to,” I admitted. “But she believes she can sort it herself.”
“Then I have to ask: Does it involve you?”
“Jessica’s my friend. So yes, I’m involved. Besides, I get the feeling that Bryce thinks he can threaten and bully people into submission.”
“Don’t kill him.” Chris paused. “Unless you have to, and then make sure no one can bring it back to you. Your fake background is a hundred percent foolproof, but that doesn’t mean you want people checking up on you, and it certainly doesn’t mean you want to spend the rest of your recovery time defenseless in a prison cell.”
“Don’t worry; I’m not planning on killing anyone.”
Chris raised an eyebrow. “I’ve heard stories about you, Nate. From the sounds of it, whether you plan to get in trouble or not, trouble follows you around. Frankly, I’m amazed it’s taken two years for it to find you.”