Honkytonk Hell: A Dark and Twisted Urban Fantasy (The Broken Bard Chronicles Book 1) by eden Hudson (ebook reader with highlight function .TXT) 📗

I was going to sleep tonight. While Jax unwound the old controllers, I looked at the wireless one sitting next to his cell phone. “Do you have some kind of spell to make—”

Jax dropped the Nintendo controller in his hand, then grabbed it back up and laughed.

“Raelyn—from the Council—she fixed the phone for me so all the NP-energies in town wouldn’t screw it up. It’s kind of an emergency thing. Sometimes they need me to come over and recall something in the middle of the night or on a day I’m not scheduled to work.”

“I was actually wondering about your wireless controller,” I said.

“Oh, that.” He shook his head and shrugged. “Perk of working for the Council.”

He started the Nintendo, handed me a controller, and sat down. The old, beepy music made us both laugh.

“I haven’t played anything like this in forever,” I said. “My mom had a Super Nintendo before she got married. She said she used to play it so she could clear her mind.”

“Yeah, that’s the good thing about these games,” Jax said. “You can just play and not think for a while.”

Tough

 

I wish the last dream I ever had of Sissy was something cooler or more memorable—like we talked forever and she told me Heaven was great and Mom and Dad loved me and Ryder was there, too, because you can’t get Lost once you’re Saved, even if you are an asshole—but all we did was sit on the back porch at the farmhouse and watch the sun go down.

“That’s it?” I asked her.

Sissy nodded and squeezed my hand.

Then I woke up. The sun was screaming through my window and I felt exactly like a guy who’d had his bigger, faster, stronger brother beat the ever-loving hell out of him. Go figure.

I pushed up and looked around. There was a note on my nightstand from Desty.

Tough,

I went with Jax to talk to Bailey at the Witches’ Council. I’ll be back.

-Desty

P.S. You look great naked.

There was a spot in front of her name where Desty had started to write something or maybe make a heart, but she’d drawn over it with a line. She was even awkward on paper.

That made me smile for a second, but it couldn’t take my mind off having to ask around for a gun to kill Colt with. Maybe I could shoot Mikal a couple times, too, just to piss her off.

No, it’d probably be smarter not to dick around. One for Colt and one for me.

I checked my alarm clock—almost one. The ass-end of noon, Ryder used to call it, right before he would kick my ass-end for sleeping in and missing school because I’d snuck out the night before to sit in with Rowdy’s band. Apparently it was okay for him and Colt to be hung over dropouts, but not for me.

The good old days, I thought.

That got me laughing. I must’ve been losing it because I was going to kill my brother and myself later on. All the crap I’d done to survive in this town and I was going to shoot myself in the head—assuming I was fast enough to do it after I shot Colt and before Mikal did one of her super-speed jumps and took the gun away. But if she saw the gun before I shot Colt, she could probably just appear in front of me and grab it. Then what?

And what about Desty? Kathan wanted her for some take-over-the-world bullshit. If I did kill myself, I couldn’t protect her or figure out a way to keep her away from him.

Kind of makes you wish you’d woke up a little earlier, huh?

Hell, if I’m going to wish, why not just wish for the answers? And some morning sex.

Maybe I had bleeding in the brain. There wasn’t any other time in my life that I really talked to myself.

I got up, got dressed, and shut off the fan. I used to just leave it running, but Harper got all pissy and chewed me out because it would run up our utility bill.

One empty room in the house after tonight, Harper. You can finally get that tanning bed you always wanted.

Then I thought I ought to write a will or letter or something so she’d know she could sell my stuff. My Gibson had to be worth a little and Mom’s acoustic would bring some serious money. And I should write a note to Dodge about not moving Willow. She was a killer drummer and a terrible guitar player. There had to be one other person in Halo who played guitar—Rowdy could fill in until they found somebody.

And a separate letter for Desty.

But how was I supposed to protect her from Kathan if I was dead?

I rubbed my face with both hands and winced at the cuts and bruises that flared up. All this last-day-alive stuff was going to make me crazy.

The condom wrapper from the night before was on the floor by my John Deere hat. I put my hat on and picked the wrapper up, thinking I should probably do some cleaning so Harper and Jax wouldn’t have to when they emptied out my room.

BawdyHeat—the condom was a leftover from Mitzi. I’d made the mistake of buying human ones the first time with her, but she set me straight pretty damn quick. The good vamp condoms are supposed to double human body heat, so obviously they’re a lot stronger than the novelty stuff you’d get for your living girlfriend. No wonder it burned Desty.

No wonder, I thought, flicking the wrapper. Mitzi wanted heat because she was cold. Cold, dead, and strong as hell. Mitzi was five-foot-two, one-oh-five soaking wet, but she had kicked my ass when I was rage-crazy and trying to stomp the hell out