Bane's Dragon: Exile (Bane Dragon Wars Book 3) Page 2

  It wasn’t long before he arrived at the station. He hopped off with a bunch of other people, crossing the road rather hastily and swinging the door open. He heard the usual ding, crossing to the other side of the diner and slumping down on a stool he had instinctively chosen over the course of the past year; third one from the right.

  “Morning,” Gerald said with his hands clasped on the counter top. Beth, the waitress, looked up at him. Her smile was immediate even though she didn’t seem to notice him when he first walked in. Having gotten used to her patterns, Gerald smirked at her.

  “Morning, you smell like fish,” she said, wiping the table top.

  “You’re getting better at this.”

  “At what?”

  “Flirting.”

  Beth’s lips curved into a smile. She continued to spray the counter top with a pine smelling spray, smacking her lips as she wiped it in circular motion. Gerald tapped his nails against the wood, waiting for her. “Do you want your coffee now or later?” she asked finally.

  “You know what I like,” he said.

  Without saying another word the brunette spun on her heel and headed for the kitchen. She pushed the parting doors open, storming inside. A little while later she came back with the coffee jug. “I know you like it black and bitter,” she said, pouring him a cup of the bitter liquid. Gerald smiled, raising it up to his mouth.

  “What else do I like?” he asked her.

  “You never get sick of this, don’t you?”

  “What, ruffling your feathers? Never.”

  She stared at him through half-shut eyes, then turned around again. “I’ll be right back with your grilled cheese sandwich,” she said before walking away. Gerald had been a regular at Simon’s Diner for almost a year now. The first time he went there his world was falling apart. He had pulled over for the first time in West Haven, feeling more lost than ever. It was well past midnight and raining hard; Gerald had no choice but to seek shelter in the diner, maybe grab a bite while he was at it.

  Beth had been working her night shift, and she greeted him, a strange man, with pursed lips and an aloofness he had seen too much on a woman. “Hey, can I get a coffee?” he had asked her at the time.

  Turning around slowly, Beth said, “What kind? You know what, we only serve our coffee black.”

  “How did you know I was gonna say that?” he asked with a grin.

  “I didn’t.”

  She had disappeared for a while the same way she disappeared every morning, later returning with a big cup of coffee. Beth seemed uneasy, pacing often, standing by the door most of the time. Gerald didn’t say much, sipping his coffee in the dim blue light of his phone screen. “I’m sorry you’re that uncomfortable. I could just leave.”

  She turned around with her arms crossed, kicking at the door lightly. “No, that’s okay,” she said. “Just never wanted to take the midnight shift, you know? But you gotta do what you gotta do, right?”

  “Right.” He paused for a moment, clearing his throat. For some reason he just wanted to say something, anything. The silence was all too much to bare, and even though he was dead tired from driving, he still wanted to talk to her. “Well, if it makes you feel any better I just moved here from Quafin and I pretty much have nowhere to go.”

  “How does that make me feel better? If anything I’m more afraid of you.”

  She was honest. Gerald sipped his coffee slowly, finally giving up on making conversation. They sat in utter silence for what felt like hours; eventually Beth sat down at one of the tables, brushing through her hair and staring out at an ongoing storm. She then walked to the door, leaving it slightly ajar and lighting a cigarette. When Gerald was done with his coffee he got up, walking in her direction.

  “You make great coffee. I’ll be sure to stop by again sometime.”

  Beth watched him go. It had been a silent encounter, one that was strangely calming.

  Gerald kept returning again and again. Surely, Simon’s Diner became his favorite breakfast spot… and Beth his favorite waitress. Their dynamic was rather odd, almost cold, but it was something he had grown used to.

  “Here,” she said, setting his plate down in front of him. Gerald had snapped out of his little fantasy looking down at a half burned grilled cheese sandwich. “Just the way you like it,” Beth winked, walking away from him like she always did.

  Chapter 2

  Another thing that took a lot of getting used to was living in a run-down apartment. When Gerald first came here, all he could think about was where he was going to live. For a while he couch surfed. He even ended up sleeping on Beth’s couch for a couple of nights, but at the very end he stumbled upon a tiny shoebox apartment only ten minutes away from the dock, and that settled it. Gerald had a run-down apartment with a view of a silver lake, and the truth was that it took his breath away.

  He had one couch bed, a coffee table and a teal carpeted floor; blinds that didn’t go up all the way; a TV and a stove; one bathroom and a kitchen chair. Gerald never really asked for much, but it did take a lot of getting used to.

  There was no one to cook for him, no one to clean, no one to care for him. He had been spoiled his entire life, and even though he never really liked to admit it, moving to this little old town felt like going away to college for the first time. His first night was riddled with discomfort, and he found himself off to a rough start with a springy bed.

  But tonight, as he got ready to go to bed for the three hundredth time, Gerald smiled. He was in a good mood today, in fact he decided not to go to bed at all. Suddenly he jumped to his feet, threw his rain jacket on and headed out. There wasn’t much to do in West Haven, but Gerald knew a spot or two. One was Simon’s, another was a skateboard park. There were a lot of athletes living in West Haven -skaters, to be specific- and if anything Gerald aspired to be like them. He often just watched them do their thing, smiling to himself. Sometimes he walked past on his way to work. There was a third place, the Golden Hour pub. Gerald loved to go there. He remembered the first time he went there. It was a product of loneliness. He hadn’t talked to his family for quite some time, and it was really taking a toll on him. He never thought he would miss them this much.

  As he strolled down the sidewalk with his hands stuffed into his pockets, Gerald spotted four men, about his age, stumbling out what seemed to be a dark alley. He narrowed his eyes at them but never approached; drunk as they were, they seemed to be having a good time. Back then, Gerald yearned for intoxication, so he crept into the alleyway and attempted to retrace the men’s footsteps, eventually finding a leakage of yellow light emerging from two windows. He smiled to himself and stepped inside, uncovering what seemed to be a pub. There appeared to be no other bars in the whole of West Haven, so in a way, Gerald thought he had stumbled upon a treasure.

  That night marked a milestone in his life; for the first time in a long time, Gerald felt independent and alone. He remembered getting drunk on a convenient Saturday night, chatting with strangers and sobbing intermittently. The night was a general blur, marked by wishy washy memories of oversharing and being comforted. He even remembered taking a woman home that night. It was a stale and forgettable encounter, but he was glad he did it. He needed to break out of his shell, and so that night meant a lot to him.

  Today, Gerald was going back there. The Golden Hour pub was his usual drinking spot… and his favorite place to be after sunset. The fact that there was so little to do in this town was a double-edged sword, but by now he was starting to see the good in things. As he walked down the street, he marveled in the quietude. The people usually went to sleep by nine, leaving aspirational guys like him to roam the streets well past everyone’s bedtime. He was never afraid. West Haven was pretty safe, and definitely safer than Quafin. Gerald walked with confidence, glancing into the dim shop windows and creepy mannequins, not at all in a hurry.

  He heard cats tearing through the trash, causing a racket. Gerald paused, his ears straining for sound. When he heard n
othing, he continued walking. As he neared the corner he heard rustling again; this time, it made him stop. He drew closer to the wall, eventually turning the corner to the pub.

  “What’s up with that attitude?” a man said, slurring his words.

  “Yeah, what’s up with that?” another man reverberated.

  Gerald crept closer. He saw a woman’s head bobbing between the shoulders of two men. He didn’t recognize them, so he assumed they were fishermen. It was high fishing season, after all, so naturally Gerald thought they were new hires. The two husky men were standing right outside the pub, standing a little bit too close to the woman, like they were cornering her.

  “You were being a tease in there,” one man, the bald one, said. They got even closer, so close that Gerald couldn’t see the woman anymore. His eyes traveled down, and that was when he realized they had been touching her.

  “Hey! Hey, you!” Gerald’s feet carried him to where they were standing. The two men turned to face him, and it was only then did he realized that the woman being cornered was Beth.

  “You need something?” the bald man asked, walking up to Gerald. The pair were huskier and more broad shouldered than he was. In fact, Gerald looked pretty short compared to them.

  “Yeah, what are you doing messing with this woman? What did she do to you?”

  Another man with a head full of hair snickered. He staggered down the cobbled street, suddenly doubling over and vomiting on the stones, spraying his jeans. Gerald wrinkled his nose and shook his head from side to side. The other man, although drunk as well, was more collected. He approached Gerald, a smug smirk plastered on his face.

  “She was being quite a tease in there. I didn’t like it.”

  Beth’s eyes were darting back and forth frantically. With her arms crossed she let out a sigh and scanned the alleyway, like she was planning an escape route.

  “You know what I don’t like?” the other man, who had now recovered from a foul smelling episode, said. He staggered towards Gerald, leaving Beth pressed up against the wall. By now her body had become more relaxed, like she knew Gerald would handle it. He saw her in the corner of his eye, a part of him relishing in the fact that she trusted him.

  Suddenly he felt a striking pain shoot up the left side of his face. Gerald was on his back now. Running his fingers over his cheek bone, he realized he had just gotten punched. The tips of his fingers were now sticky with blood, but he was quick to bounce back up to his feet. Before he knew it, the other man threw another punch. Gerald squirmed on the floor, covering his nose with his hands. It was the first time he had felt so small, so defeated. A fire brewed inside him; Gerald never felt weak.

  “Oh my God,” Beth yelled with her back to the wall.

  “How d’you like that, huh?” Their voices mingled with the air, fading into the background. Gerald was splain on the floor at their feet, moving slowly, building momentum. He gawked at them like a wild animal, calculating their moves. They were blocky but clumsy, and surely drunk. He knew he could take them on without revealing his truth.

  Suddenly he jumped up again, only this time he was prepared. He attacked with one big right overhead punch, catching the bald man by surprise. His fists felt like steel. The other man stepped out of range, but before he could bring his hands up to defend, Gerald drove his shoulder into his chest, slamming him into the wall. With the bigger man now splain on the floor, Gerald started landing solid punches into his gut. He collapsed while his buddy struggled to rise. The bald man charged towards Gerald, his face a concerning shade of red.

  “I’m going to kill you!” he snarled, swinging and missing. He slammed Gerald into the wall, but he kicked him off. Meanwhile his friend had gotten back up again, sprinting towards them, an animal snarl clawing its way up his throat. The two men managed to pin Gerald up against the wall, and that was when the chaos began. They buried punches in his chest, but he managed to kick them off again, kneeing the bald thug in the crotch, sending him toppling back.

  Without warning, the other one pulled out a knife. Beth’s shrieks filled the skies as he slashed Gerald with it. The side of his face was bleeding as the other thug, having now recovered from severe crotch pain, joined his partner. Gerald’s fangs extracted and his fur sprouted out all around his neck. The men stumbled back, their eyes wide.

  “What the fuck?” one of them said, almost falling flat on his back. Gerald didn’t wait. He pounced on him and sank his canines into his neck. The man wailed in seemingly indescribable pain. A moon hung overhead, suddenly menacing. Everything about the city felt calm up until this moment. Right now, everything felt dangerous and unreal.

  “You’re killing him!” Beth yelled, rushing over. She just stood there, eyes looking like they were about to pop out of their sockets. Her hand covered her mouth as she tried to absorb what was happening. Gerald’s back muscles were shifting. He was shifting. The hair sprouted underneath the collar of his shirt and he let out strange, animalistic groans, ones that sent chills down Beth’s spine. He howled recurrently, tilting his head up towards the sky only momentarily before diving back in again.

  “Stop it, man! We’re sorry!” the other man, who was now a wide-eyed spectator, said. His whole body shook as he tried to decide his next move. Gerald grabbed his victim by the collar of his shirt, shaking him violently. His head was hanging back and his eyes were closed. His neck leaked blood. A sticky puncture wound was apparent, filling everyone’s view, terrifying them.

  “What the hell?” Suddenly the spectator took off. His friend was lying unconscious on the floor, lips slightly parted, chest rising and falling rapidly. Gerald cocked his head to the side, listening to the man’s hurried footsteps as they faded with distance. His fangs were stained with blood. Beth observed the bizarre sight, taking a few steps back but never leaving. Gerald didn’t resemble anything she’d ever seen before.

  “He’s alive, don’t worry. I wouldn’t kill a man unnecessarily, get myself into trouble like that.” Gerald got up and dusted himself off. It wasn’t long before the man regained consciousness. His eyes shot open and he quickly scrambled to his feet.

  “Please, don’t hurt me,” he stuttered, holding his hands out in front of him.

  “You can go,” Gerald nodded, watching him take off. He was limping, holding his hand up to his neck.

  Suddenly Gerald became aware of what he had done. He wasn’t intending for Beth to see that, in fact he wasn’t intending for anyone to see that, but it was necessary. He couldn’t stand to see injustice happening without doing anything about it, especially when it came to Beth. As he backed off his head started to spin. His eyes grew wide and his vision blurry. He had absolute power to kill that man, but he didn’t. Gerald hated to kill.

  After a long stretch of silence, one only complemented by heavy breathing, he turned to Beth. “I’m surprised you didn’t run away.”

  “Maybe I just wanted to thank you,” she said, folding her arms across her chest. “You really came through for me.” She stood there with her arms folded across her chest. He wondered if she was afraid of him; he prayed to God she wasn’t. A part of him felt like a monster, like he had done something terrible. The men were nowhere in sight.

  Beth was just feigning a calmness he knew she didn’t possess right now. She wasn’t asking questions. She wasn’t walking away, either. She was just standing there, her eyes darting between the thin trail of blood left behind by the man and Gerald’s face. His canines had retracted again and his fur had disappeared. If anything, he hadn’t intended for any of this to happen.

  Beth’s lips parted, like she wanted to say something.

  Gerald didn’t wait. “I gotta go, but I’m glad you’re okay,” he said, taking off. A million thoughts were rushing through his head, but all he knew was that he needed to get out of there. He could feel Beth’s eyes on him, but his anxieties conquered and he disappeared into the night.

  Going out tonight was an inconvenience. He wondered what she thought of him, if she
would never talk to him again. Nevertheless he marched on, determined to get out of that headspace.

  Whenever he felt down, he always headed to the sea. There was something about the coastline that always felt right to him, from the smell of salt water to the breeze hitting his face. Gerald needed it right now to breathe. His chest felt tight, so he unbuttoned his shirt and popped his lungs out to the ocean. It calmed him. His body began to shiver. A lump rose in his throat when he thought about those men. They had discovered him; they knew what he was. His head raced with possibilities, then suddenly he felt like he was suffocating again.

  Slowly he retreated, dragging his feet back towards his apartment, which wasn’t very far away.

  When he got home, he realized his fangs were still stained with blood.

  Chapter 3

  Beth woke up troubled, her head throbbing. She massaged her temples with both hands, then used them to cover her eyes. She then rolled to her side, got up and shut the curtains, cursing the early morning sun. “Fuck,” she muttered under her breath, dragging her feet back to bed. Forgetting to shut the drapes before she went to sleep was a nasty habit, and a daily one at that. Beth hadn’t forgotten about last night, in fact her dreams were riddled with fangs and fur and demonic versions of a person she thought she knew. To her Gerald was just the handsome man who visited her diner daily, talked her up, flirted with her but never got closer. In a way, she looked forward to seeing him, but now she was just confused.

  Beth had always thought she was crazy. Growing up in a chaotic household, her views were often ignored.

  “Oh, Beth. You’re just imagining things! I don’t drink!” her mother would say, over and over again. The phrase, “You’re only imagining things” became a menacing staple in her life, a lie that she eventually came to believe. She thought that perhaps last night, too, was just a fragment of her imagination, that she was as unreliable as her mother made her out to be. Her thoughts spirals as she pulled the covers up to her chin again.