Ch.9 Athena's Gift

Chapter 9

“Perseverance is more prevailing than violence; and many things which cannot be overcome together, yield themselves up when taken little by little”- Plutarch

Sister Marta was much easier to deal with. She seemed happy to be in her own little world across from the Church. We were put on the fourth floor with a promise to direct Jeff to us when he came looking. She also expressed thanks for not bringing Sister Agnes along, confiding that some of the nuns secretly called her Sister Angry…

I don’t know what this building used to be, but luxurious was not likely. It had wooden floors and big windows. The apartment was one of six on the women’s floor. So far, we had it to ourselves.

The living room had a couch with a fold out bed, a table and an old recliner. The only bedroom had two sets of bunk beds in it and a dresser. The kitchen was a small galley style and the dining area had a small table with four chairs. Hopefully we wouldn’t be here very long.

“I think the first thing we should do is go down to that tavern on the corner, find out where we should take you so you can get to Michigan.” I said, “If there isn’t a bus line or shuttle I’ll take you myself. How did you get down to Illinois?”

“We rode with some people who were moving to the Retreat. I am not too worried about getting a ride to Michigan,” Jill explained, “things have a way of working themselves out. An opportunity will present itself when the time is right.”

“I do agree about the Tavern though. Let’s leave Jeff a note.” Suzanne put in.
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The Full Stein came complete with a pictographic sign; apparently literacy was a big issue around here. It was a large three-story building about a block from our apartment and the first in a string of taverns leading towards Lake Michigan. We were on the edge of what we dubbed the Drunk District. The streets were filthy and smelled of urine. We didn’t plan to be out after dark.

A cloud of stale cigarette smoke walloped us as we walked in. As did the scent of cooking meat. We found a quiet booth towards the back where we could watch people coming and going. There were about ten others in the tavern with us as well as the bartender.

The bartender didn’t wait tables, so I got our three orders of stew and bread together and went up to order. We were all wine drinkers, as opposed to beer, and were concerned that this establishment wouldn’t have any.

We needn’t have worried. The Stein took great pride in the microbreweries and vintners in this region. We actually got an entire bottle of a Michigan Riesling to ourselves. It was more syrupy than any of us liked, but we weren’t going to complain.

Much to Jill’s relief, this was also the place to replenish her dwindling tobacco supply.
It was dark, with burn marks on the tables, bar and floor. But it was also comfortable. It had an old style wooden back bar with a mirror, both polished to within an inch of their lives. The bartender, John, was also easy on the eyes.

We all had a glass of wine in us when we went up to get our food and were feeling chatty. Bartender John seemed to anticipate this and laid on the charm. We decided to eat at the bar. He was absolutely going to get a nice tip. It turns out, none of us had been effectively flirted with in at least two years, and it was flattering. He fixed Jill with his liquid blue eyes a few times, and she blushed right on cue. He patted Suzanne’s hand, and she cranked up that endearing smile. He told me he was so happy to have some intelligent company for a change, and I liked him even more. He was a pro and we loved it!

As the second glass of wine settled in, I began to study the people in the bar with us. Two of them seemed to stand out for some reason. I felt like I should be seeing something obvious, but was missing it.

“Jill, you know…those two by the dart board are the only ones drinking beer.” I observed, enlisting Jill and Suzanne in my analysis.

“You’re right. Isn’t that odd?” Jill asked John the bartender.

“Oh, most of my customers drink wine. I do think that is a bit odd. It’s always been that way for some reason, but even more so in the last few years.” John replied, wiping down the taps.

A couple close to the booth we started out in seemed to be ill. Their hands were shaking, eyes darting around. They really reminded me of crackheads. The rest of the bar seemed to be giving them some distance.

“What’s wrong with that couple back there?” I asked John in a low voice. “Maybe we can help, the Parish down the street has a detox program.”

“Some people you just can’t help.” John said with a sad edge to his voice. “They made some bad choices and now they are paying the price. Believe it or not, this is the detox program for them.”

I wasn’t sure how that made any sense, but John seemed pretty sure of his assessment. He probably saw a lot of people that were beyond his means to help.

Come to think of it. Everyone but the two by the dartboards seemed to be keeping a casual watch on the two crackheads. It was very low key and subtle, but I noticed it because it was exactly what I did for Jill and Suzanne when they went to the restroom.

Something was nagging at the back of my mind. I was missing something important. It was beginning to worry me.

When John stepped away to refill the beer pitcher for the dart players I told Jill and Suzanne about my paranoid thoughts. They didn’t blow me off outright, but clearly the wine was making us all unnaturally at ease in the company of strangers.

We all looked into the large mirror of the back bar, thinking it would be more polite than turning around and staring at people. Everyone but the dartboard people was staring right at us.
“Uh oh.” Suzanne said in a low voice as we all ducked our heads, trying to look like we hadn’t noticed.

“Time to go.” I said rummaging in my jacket…my jacket pockets… “Oh crap!”

With shaking hands I laid out more than enough money to pay our bill as I slowly turned in my seat. We were sunk. There was no way we could make it to the door in time. In fact two bar patrons were moving towards the door now, as they put on their trench coats.

Yes, I said trench coats. Everyone except the dartboard people had trench coats either on them or hanging on the back of the chairs. Come to think of it, they were all pretty tall as well.

John had moved back behind the bar, I could hear him collecting the money.

“Let’s not make a fuss, ladies.” He said in a calm voice, I felt his hand grip my shoulder like a vise. “We really only need to have a word with Lucy, here.”

My heart pounded. A word he says, I’ll just bet.

The other trench coats began to close in. Jill and Suzanne shrank back towards me in their seats. I was effectively immobilized by the death grip on my shoulder but I began to reach for the nine in my jacket pocket.

The front door opened, with a blinding flash of sunshine. Jeff strolled in, letting his eyes adjust to the gloom.

“Hey ladies. What’s…” Jeff’s voice trailed off as he began to comprehend the scene before him.

The two trench coats on the door each took an arm, marching Jeff in our general direction.

They had us all lined up on the barstools, each facing our very own Demon Touched. Suzanne and Jill seemed mesmerized and subdued. Jeff fought against the trench coats holding him, but he too eventually calmed.

“She isn’t like them. But she isn’t part of our agenda either. Bring her to the back, also the Doulos.” A muscular dark haired trench coat ordered, after looking me in the eye for several seconds.

I hoped that Jill and Suzanne would make a break for it while everyone’s attention was on Jeff and I. But they placidly gazed ahead.

“Don’t worry about your friends.” John said as I was hauled away. “I’ll take care of them.”

Wonderful.
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Jeff and I were taken to a back room very much like the Mafia back rooms on TV. It was spare with a single bare bulb hanging over a card table with folding chairs. The muscular dark haired guy seemed to be in charge.

Jeff was brought in under the light so he could be scrutinized more carefully. Maybe we had made it onto some kind of Demon most wanted list. The Coats seemed most interested in Jeff’s tattoos. They apparently held some sort of significance.

“This one is indeed a Doulos. How curious.” The leader observed. “I wonder what he is doing with you?”

He was looking at me. I wasn’t going to answer and I looked away. I heard a chair scrape on the concrete floor and the leader was standing in front of me before I could even register his movement.

He grabbed a handful of my hair and yanked my head around so I was facing him. I was beginning to get angry.

“Jeff! Snap out of it and do something!” I yelled as loud as I could, visibly startling everyone. They looked at each other and then over to Jeff, who seemed to be coming around.

“You WILL be silent.” The leader said equally loud, looking into my eyes.

I didn’t flinch. I’d pat myself on the back later.

“YOU will let us go, you filthy Demon lover.” I yelled back, letting the anger build. When I got loose…

He took a half step back. Again everyone looked bewildered for a moment.

“Lucy, you need to calm down.” Jeff said in a quiet voice. “This isn’t what you think.”

Poor Jeff, I hoped I wasn’t too late to save him. Did he just say my name in front of these guys? What was this Doulos they kept talking about? I started to reach for my nine again. Why hadn’t they searched us?

“I will send you all back to…” was as far as I got before I had a searing pain in my neck. The world faded to black.

It turns out, stun batons hurt pretty badly.