Blood and Apples: An Annora Park Novel: Book One

Chapter Nine: Dark Fae Drinks

    How we'd all ended up back at Walker's house is beyond me. Seriously, the fact that Garrett had agreed had nearly shocked me stupid. I had a feeling that Garrett was regretting his decision to accompany us right about now though. He was literally staring around eyes wide with horror, hands clenched into ridiculously tight fists and back ramrod straight.
"Annora," Garret whispered. Walker had gone to get us some refreshments—won't lie—I was hoping it was more of that decadent cake I'd had yesterday. "...Annora...the man has skulls as literal decoration, SKULLS, Annora!" He gestures wildly to the walls, "And what's with all the crazy and creepy as hell drawings and paintings of human anatomy he has hanging all over the darn place?"
I sigh, speaking just as softly as he is. "I know, I know. Listen, we both know that Walker is a bit...uh...eccentric."
"I can think of another word for it...him," Garrett mutters and rolls his eyes, but stops when he sees the look I'm shooting at him. "Fine, fine, I'm trying okay, Annora. I'm trying. I'm here, aren't I...in this Addams Family House."
I can't help it, I laugh then. "Oh God, I know, right? It totally looks like the house from the Addams Family...just spookier, if that's even possible." And for the first time in forever we both share a good hard laugh together.
"Oh do clue me in on the joke? I do so love a good joke," Walker strides into the room carrying a silver tray ladened with an assortment of goodies.
"Well? What's so funny?"
Garrett and a share a look, and I giggle a little (yes, actually freaking giggle) but it doesn't escape my notice that Walker's face turns dark and his hands clench the tray tighter.
"It's nothing Walker. Garrett and I were just uh...we were just..."
"—Admiring your superb interior decorating skills." Garrett interrupts me and blurts out. 
   I snort, and barely manage to choke back my laughter.
   "You like?" Walker walks over and places the tray down n the black coffee table.  He points to the largest framed painting on the far wall.  "That one is one of my favorites.  You know it's an exact to size diagram, well if you're a six foot two white male Caucasian, that is.  If you like these," Walker gives Garrett a very knowing, telling look. "...I'll happily show you my gallery room, there you can see all the anatomy drawings and body parts you'd like."
   Garrett gulps and forces a smile to his face.  "Nah man, I'm...uh...I'm good.  I mean, this room really just...well, I uh, can't imagine there being a room better than this one.  And, well, there's so much more to see, right?" Garrett walks over to the bookshelf and points, "I mean I haven't even looked at the books yet, you got any Grisham?"
   At that, I do laugh.  Cause the thought of Walker reading Grisham over Grey's Anatomy or the History of the Kill, was laughable.  "Garrett, I don't think—"
   "—No kid, I mean...Goodson, I don't have any Grisham." Walker looks more than a tad bit annoyed.  He too walks over to the bookshelf and pulls out a leather bound copy of a book whose title I can't read from where I'm standing.  "But here, if you like Grisham I'm sure you'll love this."
   "The mind of a Serial Killer, by Bradford Shaw," Garrett reads slowly, over-pronouncing each word.  He turns wide eyes to Walker and shakes his head in disbelief.  "How in God's name do you think that this is in any way comparable to John Grisham?"
   "Well" Walker shrugs.  "Although I've not read Grisham per se, I know all his books have murdered people in them, correct?  Usually more than a few," his eyes gleam, "So does Bradford Shaw's.  And just like I'm sure you find Grisham exciting, like a, what's that term...a 'who done it?' Again, Shaw takes you through the minds of the men that well...'done it,'"
   I can tell Garrett is still reeling, because he's staring at Walker like he's grown a pair of horns on his head and sprouted a tail.  "Okay, okay, that's enough.  You can stop now, Walker.  I think Garrett's got the picture by now."
   "Oh, but I have so many other wonderful things I could introduce him to, and since he loves my interior decorating skills...so many," he smiles a sly smile, "...trinkets to show him too."
   "No show and tell, Walker.  We have actual business to get on with.  Why again did we agree to hold that business here?" I finish, with a shake of my weary head.
   "Because my house is the largest, and the most equipped to deal with anything we might need, darling.  You know that." Walker says smugly.
   Hell.  That's right.  Magical murders might require magical assistance, and if there was anyone who knew magic better than Walker and his mother, well, I hadn't found them yet.  And he did have a lab somewhere in this monstrosity of a house, so there was always that, too.  Hell, Dickie would probably want to move in if he got a load of it.
"Right..." I mutter, before I sneak a peek over at the heavily ladened tray.
"Oh do go ahead darling, I brought it out for you, anyway." Walker says smiling widely.
"I can't possibly eat all of this, Walker," I chuckle. "I mean, this is for everyone."
Walker waves his hands haphazardly, "...Certainly, certainly...if Goodson here wants to eat goat's blood, Bloodbane and Hexed cake, he's more than welcome to it."
I look over at Garrett who is looking a little pasty. And I shake my head. "Garrett, he's just joking. Seriously, he's joking. The cake isn't hexed and there's no blood in anything," I don't think there is, at least. "And bloodbane is literally the name of a pastry that is red in color...again, no blood." I take a plate of cake and dig in.
"Annora!" Garrett yells.
I shoot him a look, mouth still filled with cake. "What?" I mumble around my cake.
"Annora, don't eat that."
"Boy, don't you tell my dearheart what she can or cannot eat, less I sew that mouth of yours shut.  As I said, everything I brought out was for her benefit. You're lucky she's willing to share, if it had been my decision I'd have given you water from the hose out back and been done with it."
    Oh for fuck's sake. And we'd all just started to get along. Well...okaaaaay, maybe get along was stretching it, tolerate, was probably a better word. But anyway, I should've known the pretend amicability wouldn't last. But, God, I'd hoped for at least one full day.
"Listen you total psycho—" Garrett begins and I cut him off, having placed the plate back on the table. It really was great cake.
"No. I mean, just no!" I look between the both of them. "We are NOT doing this again. You agreed Walker," and then I look at Garrett, "...And so did you. We are not doing this. We don't need all this..." I throw my hands up in the air, "...Whatever the shit all of this is, during our murder investigation. And hell, I certainly don't need the psychiatric help I'm definitely going to require after I finish working with the both of you crazies." I give them both the stink eye, letting them know just exactly how annoyed and pissed off I am...and weary, I'm fucking weary. "Tired is too small of a word for what I'm feeling right now, boys," and finally I let out a soft sigh, "...frankly these Treads have been the worst I've felt in oh...God...forever, maybe? I don't know if it's because of the fact that the killer is one of the The Shining Ones, which is already nearly inconceivable in and of itself, or because...because..." and my voice chokes on the words, "...I'm getting older, and I've Treaded too far. But I'm tired, and when I Tread these days it takes me further and deeper than it ever has before. So is it really too much to ask that the two of you act like adults instead of pubescent boys in the middle of some weird pissing contest?"
"I...I didn't know Annora..." Garrett finally murmurs. He's come to stand in front of me, and he's taken both of my hands in his. "I had no idea it was as bad as all that. I mean, I know you've been taking more pills lately...but I didn't know about all of the rest of it."
I shrug, "Why would you? I never told you, Garrett. I..." I swallow, "...I don't need you, my partner, my friend, to view me as weak, or incapable of doing my job."
"You should have told me, Annora."
"No, Garrett, this, this is exactly the reason that I didn't say anything before now."
"What do you mean."
"She means, that look in your eyes, the look that's telling her you expect her to keel over any second instead of years and years from now, she means, the look that says you want to wrap her up in bubble wrap and stash her away at your house like some weird pampered prisoner. Annora isn't fragile, boy...I mean," and it looks like he's drinking battery acid, "...Goodson, she's not fragile. She doesn't need you to protect her, have her back, support her, sure. But protect her, coddle her? Certainly not. You'll only do her a disservice if you let what she just told us..." he smiles softly at me, "...something that I'm sure wasn't easy for her to tell us...change how you see her, and make you treat her any differently."
Holy Shit. Was this the compassionate, and understanding Walker? Where had he been hiding?  I didn't think Walker had it in him.  "Walker..." I begin but he cuts me off.
   "...No, you don't have to say anything else, darling girl.  I get it.  And...I really will try.  Again," he sighs and shoots Garrett a look, "...no promises, but, I can give you my word that I will at least try."
   I smile then.  "Okay then...that's enough for me." I turn to Garrett then.  "And you...Garrett, what about you?"
   "I said I would, didn't I?" But he looks petulant as he speaks the words.  I sigh, perhaps I'd have to work on Garrett a little longer, God, work on Garret, the golden boy, harder than working on Walker the psychopath, wasn't this one for the history books.
   "Well my dears," Walker claps his hands.  Ready to see my lab?"
   No.  "Yes." I say and swallow.  "Lead the way, Walker, we're at your disposal." Jesus Christ was that a loaded statement or what.