Chapter 8

"Is home a place? No, home is people, family, friends, anyone who would let them sit at your table."

"It's been a while, Kal," Vecher said, putting up the kitchen supplies she had gotten a few hours ago. Kal was helping, but every time she pulled something out of the bag, she stood with it in her hands, unsure where to put it. She looked around the large kitchen, at a loss on where things went, until Vecher grabbed it from her. Kal smiled weakly, watching Vecher put the item into its rightful place.

"Too long, it seems," Kal said, rubbing the back of her head.

"I've been following your show in the papers," Vecher said, smiling back at her.

"Yea?" Kal asked. "Whatever they are saying about me are lies."

"Ah, they only ever say good things about you," Vecher said, putting the last of the items away before she pulled out two cups for tea.

"Which is how we know it is a lie."

Vecher chuckled and then said, "What they really want to know is where your Ring Master comes from, along with all his wealth."

"I'm sure they do."

"They say he's very mysterious." Vecher put a pot on the oven before ticking the gas flames to life. She pulled out the tea bags, and Kal watched in a bit of awe. She had done the same thing many years ago when Kal had swung back around to the house to see Vecher and Hugh's mother dying from some deep sickness. Their father had long skipped out on them. Vecher believed he ended up dying over there in the war, while Hugh thought he went south to become an outlaw. Hugh was sure the law got him down there, but he had planned on going south to hunt down his father.

It never happened. He died before he could leave.

Then, two years later, their mother got sick again, and Vecher reached out to Kal for help. She was making good money from the shows, and Kal started to send her some cash every couple of months, but unknown to Vecher, it was Azrael who was actually helping.

"He is," Kal said down at the table as if she had been walking the whole way to this house. Her bones were weary with stress, and the fear that sat right outside the door was starting to claw its way in. She would have to get moving soon. She couldn't stay here very long, but she also wasn't sure if Carter had any idea of this place.

When she got mixed up with him, she had learned what to say about her past and what not to say to him. The biggest clue as to whether to tell the hitman about her days before him was if there was another man in the story.

She had to act like Carter was the first and only man she had ever seen in her whole life. He was a childish man who acted like he was an adult, but he would go off the rails at the drop of a hat and then cry about his rage. He would force Kal into a church where they would beg forgiveness for their sins, and all the while, Kal thought his sins were greater than hers as she nursed bruises on her body.

It was one of the reasons she hadn't stepped back into a church.

Azrael had asked her to come to church with him on the Sundays they could go; she would always say no, and he would nod in an understanding way before heading off to the Lord's House himself. He knew she was always going to say no, and yet, he always asked.

Here was a man, a monster people called a King Devil or the devil himself, by the way, he looked it with the dark red eyes, and he had great magic, dark magic from what Kal could tell, but he went to church almost every Sunday. He would go there to pray and listen to the Good News. It wasn't uncommon to find an open Bible in his trailer if one was welcome into such a place, which was an odd thing to happen.

He could be a loving man like a father, but he was also a hard boss, expecting nothing but the best from his people. The acts had to be perfect, and the actors had to be better than perfect. She sat there, knowing he was very upset with her.

"What can you tell me about him?"

"You want to go sell it to the papers?" Kal asked, and Vecher shrugged.

"Working at the general store isn't paying enough these days."

"You don't have any roomers?" They both heard the pot start singing. Kal almost moved to get it, but her long and weary soul moved too slowly for the likes of Vecher. She was already pouring the water by the time Kal was halfway out of her seat.

"I haven't for a while," Vecher said. "I closed up for a few months and had to do some work around the place, and," she dropped some sugar into the cups followed by a splash of cream, "never had the heart to open back up."

She placed the cups between them, and Kal smiled.

"How long are you planning on staying?"

"Not long." Kal shook her head. "Not even sure I should be here now."

"Ah." Vecher drank some of her tea. "Running from the Ring Master?"

Kal laughed a little, spinning the teaspoon into her cup and smiling at the cream mixing in it.

"No, I'm not running from Azrael," she said. "In fact, I should have stayed with him, I think."

Vecher rolled her jaw, sitting the cup down and staring right at Kal. She took a deep breath and asked, "Then, who are you running from?"

Kal lifted her eyes to her old friend. She wanted to smile at her. She was about to thank her for making her feel safe enough to tell her all of her past, but she couldn't utter the right words, and she didn't have time either as they both heard boots step into the kitchen, followed by the smell of cigarette smoke.

"She's not running from me," Carter said with a cloud of dark smoke rolling out, "she's running to me."