Chapter 50

Tulsa, Oklahoma, America, 1985
“Tell me why we are doing this again,” Jamie insisted from the passenger seat of the Buick Somerset Aaron was pulling into a parking spot outside of a shady looking nightclub. It was past midnight, a time when they would typically be hunting the undead, but tonight their mark was someone else entirely.
“’Cause Janette asked us to,” Aaron replied as he put the car in park and turned off the engine.
“Yeah, but if the Tulsa team has already approached this guy several times, and he doesn’t want to join them, why would he go with us now?”
“I don’t know,” Aaron replied, pushing the door open. “She asked us to try, so we’ll try.” He got out of the car and headed into the establishment, hoping to get this over with rather quickly.
It only took him a moment to find the man he was looking for. At six-two and well over two hundred pounds, an unruly mop of dark hair on his head, he was certain the guy in the back with the pool stick in his hand, his mouth running, and a crowd of onlookers surrounding him must be Elliott Sanderson.
“It smells like a toilet in here,” Jamie remarked, looking very uncomfortable.
“We’ve taken out Vampires in worse,” Aaron reminded him.
“That’s different. I’m distracted while we are doing that. This is just… gross.”
Shaking his head, Aaron developed a plan to approach the burly storyteller. He made his way over to where the crowd was gathered and listened in as Elliott recounted an adventurous tale involving selling a used car to a mob boss, pausing only when it was his turn to make a shot. The crowd listened and laughed as he animatedly relived the events as he chose to remember them.
Clearly, he was using his special abilities as a Guardian to take subtle advantage of the humans he played against, and it became clear quite quickly that none of the others had a chance against the highly skilled billiards player.
Aaron saw the Guardian glance in his direction several times, but Elliott didn’t acknowledge him, and he wondered if he knew who he was or just recognized his own kind. Lots of girls had noticed the two new faces, too, but Aaron and Jamie both ignored them, hoping they would get the hint and leave them alone.
The opportunity to interject himself into the conversation finally came, though it was difficult for anyone to get a word in edgewise with Elliott’s storytelling capabilities. “Can I talk to you for a minute?” Aaron finally said while Elliott sharpened his pool stick.
“I don’t know. You play?” he asked, gesturing at the table.
“Not well,” Aaron admitted. “But I can try. I’m Aaron McReynolds,” he said offering his hand.
Elliott looked at it and then back at Aaron’s face. “I know who you are,” he replied, taking the offered hand with a cautious air. “What I don’t know is why you are here. I told those last folks no thanks, and I’ll tell you the same.”
“Fair enough,” Aaron replied. “I’m here as a favor to a friend who thinks you could help us out about as much as we could help you, but, hey, if you don’t think you need us, that’s cool with me.”
Elliott looked past him at Jamie, who stood with his hands in his pockets, looking bored, and then back at Aaron. “Why don’t you let me take some of your money first, and then I’ll remind you that I don’t want nothin’ to do with what you’re all about.”
Thinking it couldn’t hurt, Aaron nodded, and went about selecting a pool stick while Jamie shook his head and found a seat at a nearby table.
When Aaron returned, he found two lanky men talking to Elliott insisting they had next on the table. “Hey, why don’t the two of you take on me and my friend?” he asked, patting Aaron on the shoulder as if they were long lost pals.
Not sure if Elliott was just reluctant to give up the table or if he had another angle, Aaron agreed, and before he knew it, Elliott had negotiated a hundred-dollar bet on the game—per person.
“I’m not a very good billiards player,” Aaron whispered to Elliott as the other two walked to the end of the table.
“This is Oklahoma. It’s called pool,” Elliott replied, making a face. “Don’t worry about it, man. I got this.”
It was clear that he did have it, too, as the game got started. Elliott made shot after shot, and while their opponents were also good, they were unable to keep up with the burly man with the curly hair whose crowd was back to cheer him on.
Aaron was definitely rusty and missed the first few shots, but after a few pointers from Elliott, he got better, and by the time the first match was over, Elliott happily pocketed the two hundred dollars from the two skinny friends.
“Hey, we make a pretty good team,” Elliott said, not offering any of the winnings to his partner.
“I agree. Why don’t you come back to Kansas City, and we’ll talk about that?” the Leader offered.
“What, and leave all this? No thanks, boss.” Before Aaron could make another offer, Elliott’s face shifted; his eyes widened, and he mumbled, “Aw shit.”
Turning to look at the door, Aaron watched as a gang of bikers poured through the door. So far there were six, and they just kept coming, each bigger and badder than the last.
“That’s my cue to get out of here,” he said taking a step back, as if he might sprint out the back door at any moment.
Aaron wasn’t sure what the big deal was. They might be imposing, but they were humans. “They can’t hurt you,” he reminded his former pool partner.
“No, they can’t kill me. But they can punch my face into a bloody pulp.”
“Hey! Sanderson!” the biker in front hollered, and the entire group turned in force, plodding forward across the small bar area, their sights all set on one objective.
Elliott turned and took two quick steps toward the back, where Aaron assumed there must be another exit. He froze in place. Four more bikers came from that direction. “Well, shit,” he muttered.
The friends were all gone now, hiding under tables or scrambling around the bikers and out the exits. Even the bartender had disappeared behind the counter. Aaron looked at Jamie, who stood and shrugged, as if to say, “What the hell?” and Aaron picked up a pool stick off of the table behind him.
Everything unfolded pretty quickly. As soon as the first biker was close enough, Aaron swung the pool stick, connecting with his face, and sending blood splattering against his closest friends. After that, there was a flurry of punches, flying furniture, and screams from the women who cowered beneath the tables and in the corners.
Aaron knew the Guardians could easily kill the bikers if they wanted to, but that didn’t seem necessary or fair, and he could tell Elliott either thought the same thing or just didn’t realize exactly what he was capable of as the blows he was landing were forceful but not deadly.
While Jamie could instantaneously heal himself after every punch, Aaron and Elliott were not so lucky, and after a few rounds, they began looking for an exit plan. All three of them should be able to run past the bikers if they could free themselves from the constant barrage of fists. Eventually, Aaron saw Jamie duck beneath the pool table, and he tossed him the keys to the car, an indicator that he should make a run for the door and start the vehicle.
Once he saw Jamie clear the front door, Aaron shouted, “Elliott!” and nodded at the exit.
Elliott was engaged with two of the bigger bikers, swinging a barstool around his head like a lasso and clubbing each of them in the skull.
Aaron tore the top off of one of the circular tables and tossed it at the crowd of bikers like a Frisbee, knocking them into each other and sending them tumbling to the ground. That was enough of a break to give him and Elliott a chance to head for the parking lot.
As soon as they broke through the door, Elliott shouted, “See ya, boss,” but one glance at his car showed otherwise; not only was it surrounded by motorcycles, the tires were stacked on the hood and trunk.
“Get in!” Jamie shouted, and with a glance over his shoulder at the army of bikers streaming from the bar, Aaron pushed Elliott toward the back seat of the Somerset and dove for the front seat. In a flurry of dust, Jamie backed out of the parking lot and sped away, knowing he could outrun the bikers if he could put enough distance between them before they even hopped on their bikes.
Once it was clear that they had gotten away, Aaron looked in the mirror to assess the damage. He had lots of cuts and scrapes on his face and his knuckles were bloody. One eye was blackening, and his bottom lip was swollen.
“He ain’t pretty no more,” Elliott laughed from the back seat.
Aaron turned to look at him and realized Elliott looked even worse. Blood splattered the side of his head, and his nose didn’t seem to be straight anymore. “You’re one to talk.”
“Hey, I wasn’t pretty to begin with,” Elliott shot back.
Jamie glanced over at Aaron and then put his hand on his face. A few seconds later, he pulled his hand away and Aaron was back to normal. “Thanks,” he said. “You need me to drive?”
“I’m all right,” Jamie yawned.
“Hey, that’s not fair,” Elliott chimed in. “I want to be pretty again, too.”
“I’m sorry, I don’t have that kind of power,” Jamie replied, glancing at Elliott in the rearview mirror.
“Oooh, the Healer’s a wiseass, too. I like it!” Elliott mused. “Seriously, fix my face, man. It hurts.”
“I’ll let Jamie pull over and repair the damage,” Aaron explained. “But you’ve got to promise not to take off on us. I saw what you were trying to pull back there. After all that, the least you can do it come back to headquarters with us and hear us out.”
“You want me to go all the way back to Kansas City with you?” Elliott asked. “I have a job, you know. I have a life.”
“Why would you want to sell used cars for a living when you could do so much more?” Aaron asked, sincerely not understanding the logic.
“I told you. I know what you guys do. It’s not for me.” His arms were crossed against his burly chest, his still-bleeding face convicted.
“Look, I was asked to bring you in and show you what we do. If you don’t like it, fine. You can go. But at least hear us out, all right?”
“Fine,” Elliott finally conceded. “But I can tell you right now, there’s no way in hell I’m staying.”
“Fair enough,” Aaron nodded, thinking this guy may be more trouble than he was worth. Maybe it would be better if he didn’t stay after all. At least he’d tried, and that’s all he’d promised Janette he would do.