Tipped Scales

Chapter 2

Chapter 2Dane would never let Sean know he actually used paper and pencil for anything, but he found it easiest to work with when brainstorming recipes for Crypt Coffee. He still had the previous year’s summer lineup to work with, but he liked adding new things, taking on the challenge of creating something that would give Sean that face when he bit into it. The man had the biggest sweets lust Dane had ever met, and Dane liked providing. Plus the baked goods were a draw for customers and often sold out.

He leaned on the metal industrial counter, scribbling down flavor combinations and trying to fit them to s**t he could actually make. Coconut lime macaroons seemed like an easy option he had no idea why he hadn’t thought of before. He was toying with strawberry lemonade something when his phone lit up next to him.

Get over here, read the text, and Dane frowned at the unknown number until, a few seconds later, it was followed by, Lynne.

“The f**k did you get my number?” muttered Dane.

JavaLynne owned a garage and sold Order weapons halfway across town. Dane had never given her his contact number, and he’d changed it about a month earlier when he dropped out of classes at the college, so she shouldn’t even have it from that time he called her for a bit of wall removal. He threw the pencil down on top of the old notebook he’d been using and grabbed his gun, then checked in on his baristas, before getting in his car. If JavaLynne went out of her way to contact him, it had to be important.

It could also be she was in trouble. Dane parked down the block from her place at a bar/grill and walked the remainder of the distance, alert for anything wrong, but nothing struck him as an issue and when he got to Lynne’s, a mechanic pointed him back to her office.

JavaLynne was there, of course, a Hmong woman in her fifties who’d set her javelin aside for the moment to pour herself a mug of the shitty burnt coffee she liked to drink. Big Frank was there, too, sitting perched on the chair Lynne must have offered him like he was going to break it if he moved. Dane hadn’t seen him in months—the man ran a place called BigFroot Smoothies and Dane had always suspected he was part Bigfoot.

And then there was Simmonds, leaned casually up against the wall, mug in hand. Dane’s pulse spiked in fury at the sight of the Order Agent, whose mouth turned up in a part-sneer, part-smug ass smile when Dane glanced at him.

“The hell are we doing here?” asked Dane, then, thumbing Simmonds’ way, “the f**k is he doing here?”

“I called an emergency meeting of all Order members currently in the area, that’s what,” said JavaLynne. “Coffee?”

“You know my coffee and yours are mortal enemies,” said Dane, crossing his arms and keeping Simmonds at least in the corner of his eye at all times. He hadn’t thought to tell JavaLynne about the bastard. He hadn’t even f*****g thought to let her in on what was happening, and now Dane was pissed. The Order wasn’t handling a rogue Agent, and JavaLynne was inviting him to secret meetings.

For once, Dane wished he had whatever Sean’s screwed up witch mind-thingy was that let him talk to his snake familiar without speaking. He’d let JavaLynne know how f****d up Simmonds’ presence here was. He made a large mental note to tell her after this was done.

“I trust you’ve mentioned this to the Order?” asked Simmonds. He had a sip of the coffee, acting as polite as Sean.

Dane ground his teeth. He didn’t like seeing the man he loved in the man he hated.

“Already reported in,” said JavaLynne. “Including what we’re here for.”

“Good, good,” said Simmonds, like he wasn’t pissed he’d have to work around whatever this was.

“So why’re we here, and since when is this guy a Decrypter?” asked Dane.

“I’m not entirely clear on this myself,” said Big Frank. “The Order is a strange name for a bodyguard service. How much can I pay you in smoothies?” He glanced over his shoulder at Dane, and his green eyes under an immensely hairy face—everything but the forehead, really—lit up. “Hey, I know you. Pushy guy, came in and split a smoothie with one of those bookish types.”

“I can’t imagine you willingly drinking a smoothie, Sanders,” said Simmonds.

“How’s your nose, Dusty?” asked Dane. He’d broken it the first two times, but the last had been done by a teen, and Dane wanted to remind Simmonds of it.

“Settle down, men,” said JavaLynne, and slammed down her mug. “God, I hate getting any of you into a room together. They should have sent you away instead.”

Dane frowned, but Simmonds was eager to explain.

“The Order’s been whittling down their presence in Bleu Falls over the past, oh, year or two,” he said.

“Used to have half a dozen Decrypters stationed here,” said Lynne. “Mostly women. Everything operated smoothly then.”

Dane bit back his sarcasm. He wanted to get out of here as fast as he could, and JavaLynne could potentially still be his ally, once she heard about the s**t Simmonds had done. Lynne gestured toward Big Frank with her mug.

“Well, turns out someone wants to kill me,” he said, and shrugged. “So I’m here.”

“The hell kind of explanation is that?” asked Dane. Neither JavaLynne nor Simmonds seemed surprised, and Dane hated being the only one not to know what was going on. “Since when do we care about civilians this much?”

“You’re so refreshingly slow to connect the points,” said Simmonds. “It’s one of those things I like about you.”

Dane was very aware he had a loaded gun holstered on him.

“Obviously Big Frank’s involved with the Order in some capacity. You should go back to your Decrypter training manual if you can’t figure out he’s part Bigfoot. I could put in a word, get you in a refresher class.”

“f**k you, Simmonds,” said Dane.

The Agent had a sip of his coffee. JavaLynne poured herself a refill.

“I’m part what now?” asked Big Frank.

“No way in hell he’s part of the Order,” said Dane. “He’s not registered—I checked. We don’t just let people with abilities run under the friggin’ radar.”

“Frank Bigg used to be a Decrypter like you, Sanders,” said JavaLynne, sounding annoyed she had to explain this to Dane and not Big Frank.

“I was a whiny little s**t?” asked Big Frank, in the most pleasant voice, like he was talking to a customer.

“Watch it,” said Dane. “I’ve put down bigger assholes than you.”

“You’ve only shot a young witch, as I recall,” said Simmonds. “Unless you’re referring to a monster of some sort? And what, then, are you implying about Big Frank?”

“Can we get back to the part where you tell me why somebody wants me dead?” asked Big Frank. “I don’t want to take your offer if it’s not worth it.”

“It’s not an offer you can turn down,” said JavaLynne. “We’re watching out for you. You’re owed it. You were a very good Decrypter once.”

Big Frank turned in his chair to get a better look at Dane.

“And what was it I did?” he asked.

“The Order of Decrypters is an organization that handles cryptid issues,” said Dane. “Decrypters track and eliminate various fucky things. Monsters, ghosts, s**t like that. Any of that sound familiar?”

“It won’t,” said Simmonds as Big Frank stared blankly at Dane. “I wiped your mind when you left. I don’t make mistakes.” He paused and smiled a little into his mug. “And before you challenge that, Sanders, I would have never poked holes in your boyfriend’s brain if I’d known he was a witch. Witches don’t take so well.”

“You wiped my mind,” said Big Frank, sounding skeptical. “That’s…”

“I can give you a more detailed explanation later,” said Lynne. “And I’m sorry we have to tell you this, I know you wanted to be left alone. It’s likely you’re wanted dead because of your work with the Order.”

“And no one’s come for the rest of us f*****g why?” asked Dane. “If he knew anything it would have been wiped. Unless Dusty here is shittier at his job than he wants to let on.”

“It would be your job to figure out why,” said Simmonds. “Lynne’s purview is weapons and I’m otherwise occupied.”

“Sure you are.”

“I got a nice room in the back you can slug it out in after this,” said JavaLynne.

“Nah, if I break his nose again I’m out,” said Dane. “And I know you’d miss me. What do you want us to do about this attempted murder bullshit?”

“We’re going to keep watch on Big Frank. Ideally there would be more people, but there’s three of us, that makes eight hour shifts.”

“No f*****g way,” said Dane as Simmonds responded with a short, “I’m too busy for this.”

“Then I invite you to track down who’s been trying to kill him. He found a very risky setup in his business involving wires and water, and someone set an axe trap at his home.”

“I was lucky Lynne was driving by and stopped to help,” said Big Frank. “That axe really startled me.”

Dane glanced at JavaLynne, suddenly realizing part of the reason a weapons dealer was set up in some middle of fuckwhere town. She was looking out for Big Frank. She was probably reporting a bunch of other s**t, too—if Lynne was anything, it was reliable. And with all the f****d up magic nexus wells Bleu Falls had…

“I outrank you, Lynne, and I’m afraid I’ll have to pull that now. I’m actually too busy for this.” Simmonds finished off his coffee and set the mug down on a filing cabinet, far enough away from JavaLynne’s desk it was clear he didn’t want another pour. “Feel free to put Sanders on sixteen-hour shifts.”

“Oh, you little—”

“I’m sure it won’t last long,” said Simmonds.

Dane couldn’t tell if that was a threat.

“I don’t want to be that much trouble,” said Big Frank. “And if I was one of these cryptids in a past life, I think I can take care of myself.”

“What do you suggest, Frank?” asked Lynne.

“I mean, I suppose I’d appreciate someone dropping by BigFroot now and then.”

“Oh, we can do better than that,” said Simmonds. “Sanders, grab a sleeping bag. You’re staying at Big Frank’s house with him.”

“Abso-f*****g-lutely not.”

“I have a spare bedroom,” said Big Frank. “King. View of the corn fields. No, they’re soy this year.”

“There you have it, Lynne.” Simmonds leaned off the wall. “I’ve assigned Sanders to it, and if he wants to keep his job—and, of course, his memories—he’ll move in with the Big.”

“I make a mean breakfast smoothie,” said Big Frank. “And a decent lunch one. My dinner smoothies need a bit of work, I’m willing to admit that…”

“I’ll handle dropping by BigFroot during the day,” said JavaLynne.

Dane stared at them. They were wrapping this up so neatly, assigning him s**t work, and he couldn’t even object. He was beginning to resent the fact he’d been in the Order for a decade and still had virtually no power. And while he had every intention of complaining in his next Order report, he also knew it wasn’t likely they were going to change this assignment.

He could still warn JavaLynne at least. As Big Frank got to his feet, Dane moved forward, but Agent Simmonds got there first.

“Lynne, I have a matter to discuss with you in private…”

“Sure. Refill?”

Dane drew in a long, large breath, pissed, but Big Frank was next to him talking and he had to abandon his plan for another time.

“Guess I have to get another copy of the key before tonight and clean,” said Big Frank. “Not that I don’t keep the place tidy, but the hair just seems to build up. I skip a day with the vacuum and you wouldn’t believe the bunnies—”

“Yeah, you wanna tell me where you live?”

Dane tapped the address into his phone, not knowing how he was going to break this to Sean. Big Frank told him when he wanted him to show up, and Dane couldn’t get back to his car fast enough.