A Wolf at the Door

she got angry, though, we were gonna be there for a while. Truthfully, as I got dressed, I had to wonder if the emotional response was maybe an indicator of something off-kilter with her. Y’know, something like pregnancy hormones. Guys, even if it’s true, never suggest that to a woman’s face. You will end up dead.

Mira had gone outside with the kids by the time I got back out front, and I poked my head out the door. “Kid! Saddle up!”

Esteban obediently abandoned the snowball fight, though he took one in the back of the head as he trotted to the door. He turned long enough to stick his tongue out at my daughter, then darted inside when he was answered with a barrage of snow from my two lovely ladies.

Mira just looked at me through the sliding door and didn’t say a word. Later. We’d discuss this later. At much length, no doubt.

The kid waited until we’d pulled out of the driveway at least before he offered his two cents. “You should apologize to her.”

I shifted gears roughly, and my truck gave a little jerk. “For what?”

“For whatever you did. Just say you’re sorry.” Wise words, but somehow I didn’t think that was gonna cut it this time. When I didn’t answer him, he dropped it. “So where are we going?”

“Marty’s. I need to pick up my new sword.”

About four months ago, I’d broken my katana in a bad fall that nearly broke my neck, too. I’d also nearly broken the friendship with the man who had made the sword for me. Marty hadn’t signed on to get chased by zombie demon minions. He didn’t volunteer to risk his life. I’d done that. I’d forced that on him.

He’d promised me a new sword, but I wasn’t sure if I rated a new friendship, too. I guess we were about to find out. To be perfectly frank, I’d asked Esteban to come, ’cause I wasn’t sure I wanted to have this showdown alone.

For his part, the kid pulled out his new cell—a gift from Mira and me for Christmas—and started texting.

“So…how’s old what’s-her-name?” Instantly, he flushed red, and I grinned to myself. I had no idea what Esteban’s girlfriend’s name was, or if he even had one. But mentioning “old what’s-her-name” was guaranteed to get a blush out of him, so I did it whenever possible.

Marty’s Suburban was in the driveway when we pulled in, so at least he was home. His wife was due to go into labor any second now, and I’d half imagined missing them as they left for the hospital or something. But no, he was there, and he stepped out his front door as we pulled up in front of the house.

“Stay in the truck, kid.” He grunted acknowledgment and never looked up from his phone. Yeah, I didn’t want to be here alone, but I also wasn’t sure the kid needed to hear all the gritty details. He’d missed out on last fall’s debacle.

I stepped out into the snow, nodding to the man on the porch. “Marty.”

“Jesse.” He looked good, at least. Way less beat up than the last time I saw him. Built like a damn fireplug, shaved head, bristly black beard for winter, his heavily tattooed arms crossed over his chest.

The two of us kinda stood there in the snow, the silence uncomfortably taut between us. It felt like two gunslingers, waiting to see who was gonna twitch first. Turns out, it was Marty.

“You come for your sword?”

“Yeah, if you’ve got it done.”

“It’s done.” He jerked his head toward his workshop behind the house. “Go on back, I’ll meet you back there.”

Yeah, I noticed that he didn’t invite me into the house. So that’s how it was gonna be. I trudged through the yard to the back, and Marty met me at the workshop, unlocking the door.

“Wait here.” Shit. He wasn’t even gonna let me into his man-cave?

I stuffed my hands into my coat pockets and waited and pretended that it didn’t feel like a rock in my guts. I knew this could happen. Pretty much counted on it, really.

I mean, I nearly got the guy killed. It’s a little hard to be best buds after that no matter what the cop movies say. What Marty had been through last fall…no one should have to do that. I couldn’t blame the man if he wasn’t all puppies and sunshine with me anymore. Couldn’t blame him at all.

A few minutes later, Marty reappeared, a cloth-wrapped bundle in his arms. “Here. Check it out, make sure it’s okay.”

He balanced the bundle across his arms, and I unwrapped it slowly. I think I stood there gaping like a landed fish for a good long while, but if you could see this sword, you might too.

It was a katana still, that didn’t surprise me. It was the weapon I was most comfortable with, the fighting style I knew. The polished steel blade swept out in a graceful curve, and just looking at it I could tell it was silk-slicing sharp.

He’d done the circular guard in brass, big enough to just cover my fist as I held it. The pommel was brass too, and came to a subtle point. A skull-breaker. The hilt though…oh the hilt. My old sword had been plain, the hilt just wrapped in blue cord. For the new one, Marty had chosen some kind of bone, smooth and white, and etched into each side was a line of kanji.

“The way that is spoken here is not the eternal way,” I murmured quietly. “The name that is spoken here is not the eternal name.” I knew those lines. They were tattooed down each of my biceps. The first two lines of the Tao Te Ching. Marty had carved them into the sword, specifically for me.

“I named it The Way.” Apparently deciding I’d looked long enough, Marty shook the wrappings back over the sword and thrust it at me. “The pommel makes it a bit heavier on the back end than you’re used to, but the hilt is lighter, helps balance it out. The bone is lion bone.”

I didn’t even bother to ask him where he’d found lion bone. If he said it was, it was. I couldn’t even think of anything adequate to say. The man had just handed me a goddamn work of art. Finally, I settled for, “Thank you,