Those Wonderful Toys by Hunter Blain

Author:Hunter Blain [Blain, Hunter]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Argento Publishing
Published: 2021-02-01T16:00:00+00:00

18

Locke - Fortress of Solitaire

Tiny Tim romped into the kitchen at the sound of Locke’s footsteps, yipping before making visual contact.

Looking down at his phone, Locke saw an email from an anonymous sender, though he knew without having to open it that it was from the two Elders.

Opening the message, he saw only one word: Lachesis.

“Well...shit...” Locke breathed as he closed his phone. Shutting his eyes and leaning on the counter, he rubbed at his temples while Tim posted up on his legs, yipping his demands.

Locke looked down at the little pup and sighed, accepting what must be done with the Elders’ orders. Lachesis would say what they could not while extracting a heavy toll.

Tim growled in frustration, breaking Locke’s trance.

“I’m guessing it’s time to eat?” he asked Tim, who jumped in tight little circles in agreement.

Double-checking his phone, Locke saw the time before calling into the house, “John? You still here?”

Silence answered.

Shrugging his shoulders, Locke walked to the large fridge and selected a can from the shelf reserved for Tim’s all organic, nutrition-packed food. There, on the shelf for all to see, was a custom-printed label that read,

Do NOT put in microwave.

Locke still received junk mail, even two years later.

Opening the cold, metal container, Locke scooped as much of the food as he could into Tim’s bowl before rinsing out the excess and tossing the container in the recycle bin.

Making his way to his room, Locke removed his Council robes—carefully stashing them in the closet as to not get them wrinkled—set his phone to Do Not Disturb, and plopped face-first on his bed. John had awoken him at least an hour before the sun started to rise, and Locke needed a nap.

Several hours later, Locke jerked awake to see he had taken a coma rather than a simple nap.

Cursing, he hastily brushed his teeth, rolled on his deodorant, and did a quick spritz of his favorite cologne. After that, he put on blue jeans, tennis shoes, and a plain black T-shirt.

Licking his thumb, Locke rubbed at a smudge on his pristine shoes, took in a shallow breath, and stood up with an exhale, ready to face the seer.

Stepping through the door and into the driveway, Locke heard the reassuring clicks of the automated security system Collin had helped set up, ensuring that no trespasser—mortal or supe—could intrude. At least not easily.

Opening the door to his Tesla, Locke took note of the few dints and dings from years of use. He could have bought a brand-new model whenever he felt like, but this one had been good to him.

Pulling from the grounds, Locke made his way toward the highway. The side road was empty all the way to I-45, with not even a single set of headlights passing him.

Glancing at the time, Locke saw that it was late, and briefly wondered if Lachesis would even be up at this hour. The notion passed as he told himself that she would—without a doubt—be expecting him.

A swelling of competing thoughts and concerns

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