Memory And Sorrow (Jack Dahlish Book 2) by Tim Rangnow

Author:Tim Rangnow [Rangnow, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: Vagabond Publishing
Published: 2021-01-02T00:00:00+00:00

After work and several hours of sleep at the shelter, the nice ladies that volunteered there gave me a send-off with home-baked oatmeal cookies. I would have preferred chocolate chip or snickerdoodle, but there was no way I was going to turn down free cookies. It made me all the more distressed about having to leave and find a new place to sleep, though.

By midafternoon, I was exiting a bus downtown. It was only a block to the first set of stairs that led to the Riverwalk below the street level. Saturday afternoons in summer, the Riverwalk is a tourist mecca. That day it was so crowded I could barely move at a snail’s pace because of the crush of people walking the narrow path. It always amazed me that so many people could pass each other without someone being bumped off into the shallow water of the river.

I made two loops of the downtown Riverwalk, checking every sign for the words Lyon’s Den. The first time around I thought I must have missed it, or it was hidden behind a pack of tourists. I moved slower the second trip and still couldn’t spot anything close to being the place I was looking for. I even stopped and asked a couple of hostesses standing outside restaurants if they could direct me. That earned only blank looks in return before they started in on how their establishment served top quality drinks and I need look no further.

I probably would have given up the search then, but a homeless woman was sitting near the last hostess stand I stopped to ask directions at. As I walked away feeling defeated, she started to cackle. “What would someone like you want to find the Den for?”

It took me a few seconds to realize she was speaking in my direction, and I’m sure I only caught it because the word Den was so heavily on my mind that afternoon. I got as close as I could bear and crouched down. “Do you know where it is? I’m, uh, meeting someone there.”

She stopped laughing and looked at me hard, squinting her eyes. The woman looked old at a glance, but close up I could see that she was probably no more than forty. A life on the streets was hard enough to make anyone age faster. “You don’t belong there, primate. Only the Children are welcome at the Den.”

Great, dozens of homeless people panhandling the tourist traps, and I get the one who’s obviously out of her mind. “I’m not sure what children you mean. The Lyon’s Den is a bar, right?”

The homeless woman cackled again, raising a finger to stab at my chest. “Foolish primate. You don’t even know enough to be afraid.” She laughed louder, looking around at the people passing by trying to avoid eye contact. “Look for the sign of the leprechaun. When you see it, look to your right and take five steps down. That is the entrance to the Den. Now go!” She waved me away, pointing in the direction I should go.

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