He was not having a good day. He leg was killing him, he was overdue on rent, and the bartender had just cut him off. He stared at the bar, his head weighing heavily in his hands. How had he come to this? After a decade in the military, they cut him off, just because he was deaf in his left ear, just because it had taken five months of physical therapy to walk again, just because he was a little twitchy in the Humvees. Oh, they talked about how it was honorable, about how he had served his country, but it was still rejection. He’d joined up when he was 18; what was he supposed to do now?
He noticed someone sidle up to the bar next to him, but ignored them. He was too lost in his own misery. He did look up when that person leaned in closer, then slapped him on the back.
“Hey, Kendrick, right? It’s been what, four years?”
He jumped, lurching half-way off his stool.
“Whoa there,” the voice said, grabbing his arm and pulling him back upright with ease. “Been here long, have you?”
He blinked blearily, trying to focus his vision. A woman stood next to him. She was tall, with close-cropped hair and huge green eyes. And was strong, apparently, because she had righted him on the stool like he was a child.
“Who… have we met?” he mumbled, slightly regretting that last glass of whiskey.
She cocked her head at him. She wasn’t traditionally beautiful, he mused. Her features were a little too strong, too sharp, but he found it hard to look away all the same.
“You don’t remember?” she asked, and even in his state he could tell her dismay was mocking. “Turkey, 2016? Before, well,” she shrugged.
He stared at her for a moment before he placed her. He remembered seeing her around the base, but never talking to her. He remembered wondering what someone like her was doing in a place like that.
“Yeah, I think I remember.”
She laughed, a rich sound that made him want to laugh with her. “Well, that’s something, I suppose. Although I don’t think we were formally introduced back then.” She held her hand out, and he shook it, surprised at the strength of her grip. “Séraphine. So,” she said, leaning against the bar. “What brings you to this neck of the woods? Still with the Army?”
“No,” he grunted. “Medical discharge.”
“What happened?” she asked, eyes wide. “If you don’t mind me asking.”
“Humvee hit an IED,” he said, keeping everything to a minimum. “My ear’s busted, leg hurts when it rains, and I’m twitchy in cars. Fucked up reason to kick me out.”
She tilted her head, considering him. “So what are your plans? After you sober up,” she asked, tapping his empty glass.
He just shrugged. “What do you want from me?” he asked, his voice tense.
“Why did you join up?”
“What?”
She pursed her lips, eyes narrowing. “Why did you join up?”
“What’s it to you?” he shot back.
“I’m trying to decide if you really are the person I’m looking for.”
He just stared at her.
She sighed, then slapped the table. “Come on, soldier, answer the question!”
“Because I wanted to help people,” he snapped. “Because I wanted to do some good in the world, and I figured schooling wasn’t going to help me much there. Because there was too much pain and misery in the world, and I thought maybe, just maybe, I could help. Fat lot of good I did.” He was breathing heavily, like he’d just run a marathon.
She watched him, and it felt like she was seeing through him.
“If you were up to it,” she asked, her tone softer. “Would you go back?”
“In a heartbeat.”
She smiled, like she was about to share a juicy secret. “Well then, I think that’s all I need to know.” She leaned closer. “Have you ever heard of a paladin, Kendrick?”
He blinked. “Like in that dragon game?”
She chuckled. “Yeah, like the dragon game.”
He frowned, confused. “They’re like fighters, right? Who are tied to a god or something.”
“Something like that.” She pulled a business card out of her pocket, sliding it across the bar to him. He noticed a tattoo on her wrist, a strange symbol that shone iridescent green.
He picked up the card, staring at it. It was simple, just a name and a phone number.
“Praeses?” he asked, stumbling over the name.
“My mother,” she said, smiling. “Protector of the Lost and Displaced. One of the many deities no one’s ever heard of.”
“Deities… what?”
She sighed. “Like a goddess?”
He stared at her, then let out a whoop of laughter. “You want me to believe your mom is some kind of goddess? And that makes you, what?”
“A demigoddess, technically,” she said, shaking her head at his laughter. “But far more powerful than that implies. I can help you, Kendrick. I can give you purpose. I can take away your fear, your pain. You wanted to help people, be a hero?” She asked. “This is how.”
She leaned close, whispering in his ear. “Call me when you sober up, and realize this is your best option.”
She stood and walked away, Kendrick staring after her. Who did she think she was, spewing that kind of crap to him? He rubbed his ear, her words echoing in his mind. Then he froze, as the realization flooded his muddled mind. She had whispered into his left ear, and he had heard every word.
Inspired by a writing prompt from Writing Prompt Generator.
© The Lightning Tower, 2020