A Moment of Truth

Image by Arthur Halucha from Pixabay

Image by Arthur Halucha from Pixabay

“Drink.”

It was a command, but I hesitated.

“I’ve never had liquor before.”

“Congratulations, Addie. You’re a big girl now.”

The Brute stared me down until I picked up the small glass with the sharp smells and drops of our blood. I didn’t dare ask him what the blood exchange was about or defy him.

Holding my breath, I threw my head back as I swallowed. Tears came to my eyes. Even in haste, there was no escaping the foul taste of that liquor.

I suppressed the urge to retch when the cursed spirits hit my stomach.

The Patron’s Daughter shook her head vehemently.

“What’s wrong, fancy girl?” the Brute taunted. “Have you a weaker backbone than Addie here?”

“I’ve had liquor before, but I’m not drinking anything with blood in it. That’s disgusting!”

“You’re making a sacred covenant. You want your true desire? Then drink.”

“I didn’t come here to make a sacred anything.”

The Patron’s Daughter started to cross her arms, but the Brute gripped her wrist.

His menacing voice was low as he continued.

“Be good, fancy girl, and I promise you as much bloodless liquor as you like.”

I expected the Patron’s Daughter to throw the spirits soiled with my blood in the Brute’s face. I couldn’t believe it when she actually obeyed.

Her face grew pale.

But she still took the glass and threw the liquor down her throat. Her eyes watered when she swallowed, and she shuddered. Then she sighed and pushed her glass forward for more.

I shook my head when he glanced at me. The Brute raised his brows slightly, and I knew it was time to retreat to a corner in the shadows.

The Brute filled both their glasses.

“Try sipping it this time,” he suggested. “You’ll savor the taste more.”

Without warning, the Brute came around the table, unbuttoned the cloak, swept it off the Patron’s Daughter, and tossed the garment to me.

I didn’t even have time to get angry at being thrust in the role of servant once again.

I caught the cloak without a word, but the sudden confusion made the Patron’s Daughter step away, her face blushing.

“You’re already here, fancy girl. You might as well get comfortable.”

The gown she wore was deep blue and simple, the kind she could put on without the help of a maid. With laces in the front that stopped at her ribcage, her full breasts were accentuated.

The Brute looked her over, and there was no misunderstanding what he was thinking.

Her eyes grew wide, and the Patron’s Daughter crossed her arms.

“Addie told me you could help me marry the Noble Son.”

The Brute laughed.

If I hadn’t been so stunned, I probably would have as well. Her insistence on the Noble Son was farcical at this point.

There was a part of me that anticipated the Patron’s Daughter storming out of that cabin, shrieking insults and possibly vengeance to me.

But the Patron’s Daughter had never faced a predator before, had never been under another’s power in her life.

Once she was, like many prey before her, she froze.

Or perhaps the Sorcerer had figured out her hidden hunger for a Brute.

Perhaps this was the titillation she had been looking for. Either way, the Brute knew he had her.

He smiled, and the Patron’s Daughter flinched at the sight of his short teeth.

“I thought we had already determined that the Noble Son is not the deepest desire of your soul.”

“I couldn’t care less about the desires of my soul,” she snipped. “I came here to marry the Noble Son. If you can’t help me, I want to go.”

The blood drained from my head and made me so dizzy I almost fainted.

If she left, I would be destroyed.

Yet the Sorcerer of the Caverns had not been the villain of cautionary tales for generations without just cause.

Until this moment, he had belied his rough appearance with intelligence and pleasantry. Suddenly, his demeanor changed and the Brute sounded as violent as he looked.

His tone became guttural as he snarled at her.

“You pathetic little fool! Do you even have the integrity to admire his self-respect? Not even the Devil himself could have tempted the Noble Son to desire you. Even if that were possible, I don’t waste my time restoring the wounded vanity of spoiled little shrews like yourself.”

I was so shocked I couldn’t even rejoice.

Nobody had ever spoken like that to the Patron’s Daughter in her life. Her face went white, and she even gasped.

Then fury set in. Her features contorted, she balled her delicate hands into fists and raised her right arm.

But the Brute moved fast. He blocked the Patron’s Daughter before she could strike him by gripping her right wrist.

Then he grabbed her other hand, raised both above her head, and pulled her to him. They made a peculiar pair.

The Patron’s Daughter with her creamy softness and understated gown could not have been a more unlikely match to the uncouth Brute with his ugly features.

She was so close to him, she could probably feel his breath on her face.

“I wouldn’t act on that urge,” the Brute murmured, “unless you’re willing to pay the consequences, fancy girl.”

Suckers for Cutsie Poo and Unexpected Good Dates - On the Road #19

GiveYourselfSomethingtoWriteAbout copy 3.jpg

Hey y'all,

Before I get too carried away, let me just say one thing: next time any of you are in Anchorage, you must check out El Tango on Tudor behind the Holiday gas station. 

If you've gone to Hooters, you have definitely gone too far! 

El Tango has a fantastic menu of Latin cuisine - Columbia, Argentina, and Puerto Rico - a very friendly staff, and a small dance floor. 

It's only been there for a year. The location sucks; but if you like your ambience refreshing, then this is the place for you. 

How did I get there?

Last night at the Cook Inlet Bookstore, I was crushed to find that I was one of a cluster fuck of writers. 

Needless to say, the four of us were overcrowded at one small table. So we got another one and two of us sat there. 

I figured I’d stake out the front door in the hopes I’d get more attention. But everybody still herded around the schoolteacher at the other table.

She had a mountain of books and a generous target audience. Her book, “Recess at 20 Below” was full of pictures of her students having FUN in her class and adorable narrative about school life in Delta Junction. 

It was both cutsie poo and Alaskan at the same time.

Meanwhile, I misread a potential fan, Sheila. And I found out she was anything but when I told her the first chapter of Ella Bandita. I included the dirty old sorcerer, the cold-blooded daddy, and the eaten heart. 

GiveYourselfSomethingtoWriteAbout copy 2.jpg

 Sheila scrunched up her face and let me know that she was a fan of the Walt Disney version of whitewashed fairy tales. She also said that she used to have a friend who would have been into my writing because she wrote a lot like me. 

"But she's dead now," Sheila said. 

So heartwarming of her to tell me that. 

Do I sound bitter? Really, I'm not. Even though the night was a dud.

At this point in my road trip, I have had enough successes to not sweat the flops. 

Besides, last night was a quality, if not a quantity, experience. 

I ended up with a date. A good one, too with a nice guy.

Go figure. That practically never happens to me. 

I usually gravitate to the those-I-cannot-or-should-not-even-consider-wanting-to-have types.  

This guy has a steady job, no addictions ( at least, not obvious ones ), courtly manners, a good body, and blue eyes that are awful purty to look into.

GiveYourselfSomethingtoWriteAbout copy 4.jpg

That's how I ended up at El Tango. Because Nice Guy With Pretty Blue Eyes took me there.   

Besides the food and the Argentinian staff, they had a keyboard player whose keyboard created a symphony with every note, and the staff would get up there and sing. 

Since they didn't have the TV screen that enabled bad singers to massacre mediocre lyrics, it wasn't really karaoke. But it kind of felt that way even though the staff were the main singers.  

Most of the songs were in Spanish, so it was very cool. It also helped that they could...oh, sing. 

Hugo, the owner who was from Argentina, played kind of the Latin version of a bluegrass washboard - a weegel ( I don't know how to spell it, and the closest he could come to describing it was a plant, kind of like a zucchini, that's dried and then hollowed out - if you want to know what the hell I'm talking about, go to El Tango and you'll see), while the bartender had maracas.  

I love Latin folk. They really have the happy-to-live mentality down pat. Hugo gave us free drinks, calling us amigos and that we are family. 

"When you are in Anchorage, this is your home."  Hugo said.     

Nothing is perfect, however...

Hugo is a sucker for Celine Dion, because his daughter, Lilly, belted out "I Will Always Love You," and he sat there, looking emotional and teary-eyed.

Lily sang beautifully. I simply don’t like Celine Dion’s music. 

But other than that, the night was awesome.   

I was going to come back on Tuesday. But my good date asked me out again, so…it’s good to explore the possibilities.

I'm coming back to Juneau roughly sometime before I head down to the lower forty-eight by November 1st. 

Does anybody have a housesitting gig or an extra room? 

I rented my place out and I don't know about crashing on my own couch for almost two weeks. 

It'll be good to see the Vagabond - my cat, that is.  And of course, all of you. I’m really excited to see all of you.

Peace, 

Montgomery