“Damian!” the crowd shouted in unison.
“Hey, everyone!” I said, giving a slight bow. “Please, don’t get up.” I put out my hand to stop them from moving.
They all gave me blank stares for a moment, then the room erupted into laughter. I wasn’t sure what I’d said exactly that had made them all react like that, but whatever. I’d take it. Tonight was a good night, and things were starting to look up.
For starters, Mei’s father had been as good as his word. He’d paid me a handsome sum, just like he’d promised. It was enough to pay off Rick, replace the rental car I stole, replace Sheila’s broken stuff, and keep me current on rent for the next couple of months. And better yet, he’d agreed not to say a word about it to Mei. Which was just as well. Her and her father never had gotten along.
Speaking of Rick, when I’d presented him his check for services rendered, he’d ripped it up and thrown it in the trash. Said he considered the experience itself to be “payment in full.” I figured he was just joking, but he’d been pretty insistent about the whole thing, even looking wounded when I’d offered to write him another.
Oh well. His loss.
I looked straight at Mei. She had healed well. You could barely even tell that some demon chick had tried to steal her life essence just two weeks ago.
“Mei, darling.” I kissed her cheek. “Glad to see that dark magic has done you no great harm.” I flashed her a toothy grin.
She smiled back at me. “All thanks to you and that sword of yours.” Her eyes trailed to Grax’thor. “Of course, if you’d never gone after it in the first place, none of this would have ever happened.”
I winced a little and hung my head. “Sorry.”
Mei shrugged. “It’s all good. No harm done.” She turned and raised her arms to the sky. “Drinks are on me, tonight, everyone!”
That brought another round of cheers and clanking glasses from the crowd.
“Aww, Mei, you know just how to treat a guy,” I told her.
“Oh, not you,” Mei said, leveling her gaze at me. “Don’t think I don’t know about your little exploits. You still owe me for the ice cream and the healing bourbon. Or did you think I wouldn’t notice?” She put her hands on her hips and tapped her foot.
My face started to grow hot and I pulled on my collar with one finger. “You knew about that, huh?”
“Uh huh.” She nodded, then put out one hand. “You’d better pay out.”
I forced out a strangled chuckle. “Uh, sure thing.” I started rummaging around in my pockets for that checkbook. There went one month’s rent.
“Just kidding!” Mei said a moment later. Then she burst out laughing, the room joining in with her.
“Heh. So funny,” I said, not really enjoying the joke. I’d been really worried there for a moment.
“It’s all in good fun, Damian,” Mei said, nudging me on the arm. “But next time, I won’t be so nice.”
“Of course,” I said with a weak smile.
Mei laughed again and pinched my cheek. “Gosh, you’re so easy to tease.”
“Heh.” I nodded. “Guess so.”
Why was she being so hard on me tonight? Of course, I did put her life in danger, so I guess I kind of deserved a little razzing. Even if I did save her life, too.
A moment later, the laughter died down, and Rick started his line of questioning again. “So why did you go after that sword in the first place? Grax’thor, I mean.”
I took in a deep breath and puffed up my chest. “You mean I never told you?”
Rick shook his head.
I sat down at a stool and took a big, long sip of a Manhattan that had magically appeared in front of me. “Well, my boy, it’s a long story. You see…”
“Damian’s tired of immortality,” Hank interrupted, spoiling my story. “He was looking for a bad luck charm to help him lose his life in battle.”
“Hey!” I whined. “I was going to get to that point.”
“Yeah,” Hank said, “in five years.”
A few bouts of laughter erupted once again.
“I’m not that bad, am I?”
“Just about,” Isaiah chimed in.
I shrugged. “Hank has the right of it, I’m afraid. I’ve grown tired. Or at least bored. Though I’ll admit the last few days have been something.” I smacked Grax’thor on the hilt. “Not that this baby has been any help with that. ‘Hope Render’ indeed.” I huffed at it for good measure.
Spoiled brat, the letters on the blade spelled out.
Huh. Apparently, the sword could talk now. No doubt it was Boudicca’s spirit doing the talking. I paid her no heed.
Rick chuckled, then. “Oh, Damian, your translations really are awful,” he said. “It’s a good thing you came to me.”
I side-eyed him. “Whatever do you mean?”
“You really thought ‘Hope Render’ meant bad luck?” He shook his head and stifled another laugh. “It’s a context thing, remember? Old languages didn’t have all the words we do to describe things. Grax’thor is an enchanted blade, all right, but it’s not a cursed weapon. Far from it. It’s a ‘Hope Render’ in that it renders hope to the user when they would otherwise have none.”
I glared down at Grax’thor. Could it really be true? Had I gone after the wrong artifact this whole time? My luck had been pretty amazing the past few days, I had to admit. Even better than it normally was, and I’d survived an awful lot of near misses.
“You little son of bitch!” I spat at the blade. “You can eat my shorts!”
Bite me, the blade said.
I shook my head and took another drink. I was going to need a lot more alcohol to survive the night. And to find a way to ditch
