Teagan's Books

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Wednesday, May 31, 2023

Welcome to my sanctuary in the fictional town called Atonement.  I have two novels and a small collection of short stories set in this town.  Doors afficionados might not have visited this place yet, but I hope you will for this “short story.” It’s actually an episode of my blog serial.  However, it’s all about the background of a new villain as well as the “hows” of some of the magic of the town.  

A certain bar has been mentioned in all those books, and my serial.  You’re seeing this episode today rather than on the weekend because there’s so much I want to tell about the Rowdy Rooster, its new owner, and the trouble that awaits my characters inside that saloon. So, I decided to use some of it as another response for Dan Antion’s Thursday Doors Writing Challenge.  I believe the story will stand on its own for those who have not followed the serial.  The photo Dan offered for inspiration quickly became my vision of the outside of the large bar..

Atonement in Zugzwang
Episode 13, part 1
Old Green Eyes

By Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

With the brown spot on his hip and the long-healed split at the top of one ear, Moccus was a tattered looking otherworldly pig.  Cleaning himself up didn’t change that, much to the dismay of some who knew him.

He was also a prankster, but secretly heroic… and utterly stubborn.  Undeterred by the fright that he, along with Deme and Honeybell, had gotten outside the Rowdy Rooster Saloon, Moccus circled back.  After all, that would be the last thing anyone would expect of him.

I’ve got to know if the barber pole is there.  If Old Green Eyes has it… his thoughts trailed into an abyss of horror upon imagining the powerful artifact in evil hands.

No one knows how the magic of the barber pole came to be, or exactly how it protects Atonement.  But at minimum the pole has stopped revolving.  We’ve either got to start it turning again soon, or find another means of renewing the barrier around Atonement that prevents the worst of the supernaturals from entering.

Salty Riley found the pole the other time it went missing, though he had no idea what he was messing with.  When I reanimate his body and walk him around the perimeter it helps, but it’s taking me too long.  He walks too slow, Moccus thought, snuffling in frustration as he ran.

Soon he was within sight of the erstwhile scrap metal refinery.  The three-story brick building was built before the American Civil War.  It also stood upon a ley line that was designated neutral ground eons before that.  After a century existing as a factory and then as the refinery, the building had been remodeled as a country-western bar.

Some of the power of the ley line had seeped into the bricks.  Mocus suspected those remnants of power were what attracted Leonidas Gathright, or Old Green Eyes, to the bar.

He paused, looking at the building.  Even at that distance, he could feel the tension that emanated from the place.  Moccus snorted when a pang of fear poked him.

Honeybell would be grunting about the fact that the longstanding agreement that the bar remain neutral ground had been violated, he thought.  Honeybell sure loves rules.

To Moccus, however, rules meant little.  What actually did concern him was the fact that at least half the merrymakers inside the saloon were other than human.  It was dangerous for that many supernaturals to congregate with humans.

Some of the creatures must have traveled for hundreds of miles.  Maybe thousands, he amended his pondering when he thought of the biker who almost ran them down.

“That has to be Kapros, the Erymanthian Boar.  He’s strong… maybe as strong as Bheema,” he grunted aloud.  “But he’s rebellious, and he snorts at authority.  Bheema might be able to take advantage of that.  Although the female rider…  If she’s what I suspect she is, then she’s definitely more dangerous than Kapros.”

Grunting, Moccus pushed sown his fears.  The place he sought should be nearby.  After a moment of rooting around he found it.  The bars of the disused storm drain were just far enough apart for him to squeeze through.  From there, he could make his way to a tunnel that let out at the basement of the Rowdy Rooster.

“If Old Green Eyes has the barber pole artifact, that’s where he would keep it.  With the basement embedded in the soil of the ley line, that would make it easier for him to use the artifact, otherwise the pole’s magic would be resistant to his corrupted elemental energy,” he snorted.

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Darting through the tunnels, soon Moccus was inside the basement of the Rowdy Rooster.  Country music could easily be heard from the barroom above, as could whooping shouts.  However, the tone of the voices was different than it had been in the past.  Some were overly aggressive, while, for a saloon, others were oddly subdued.

Something is wrong with the crowd.  It’s more than just the number of supernaturals.  There’s something else… he thought.

Moccus felt the vibration of dancing feet on the floor above him — dancing and leaping.  A chill crept down his spine all the way to his twisty tail.  The memory of the rank of opposing pawns on Salty Riley’s chessboard flashed into the little pig’s mind.  He hoped the dancers were not what he suspected.

“Got to be quick.  Where would the artifact be?” he grunted, casting his bluer-than-blue eyes around the basement, and seeing dozens of places where a barber pole could be stashed.  “But no… the question is where would Leonidas Gathright hide it?”

A sharp squeak came from the door at the top of the stairs as it slowly opened.  Moccus knew he must hide.  He had to cover himself, because in the gloom of the basement he glowed.

The small pig’s eyes fell on a huge antique grandfather clock.  He was small enough that he could hide inside.  Moccus paused.  Abruptly he had a hunch about that clock, and he headed as far away from it as he could get.

Spotting an old tarp, he grabbed it in his teeth and dragged it to a corner where crates of mismatched sizes were awkwardly stacked.  If not for his radiance, he could have easily hidden there.  Moccus tossed the cloth into the air as he leapt into the small, secluded corner.  The tarp settled around him as it came to the floor.

An instant later he heard two voices and the tread of people coming down the stairs.

“I haven’t seen you since…” a gruff voice began.  “What was it, 1984?  In San Ysidro, California.  Man!  You were looking strong.  Plenty to feast on, huh?”

“San Ysidro.  That brings back memories,” replied Leonidas Gathright.  “Back then, 27 killed and 20 wounded was a feast to remember.  Now, in this millennium, it’s just another delicious day.  Ah but the battle that anchored me to this plane,” he paused, kissing his fingers like a chef, and savoring the memory before continuing.

“I’ve heard that the blood and violence of the Battle of Chickamauga was what created you?” the gruff voice remarked.  “But you’re an elemental.  You’ve got to be a lot older than that.  When were you born?  In the days of the Cherokee?” he went on, but the tone changed.  “Nah, farther back than that.  You go all the way back to the Mound Builders, don’t you?”

“Ah, Chickamauga.  Even the name stirs my appetite.  16,170 Union and 18,454 Confederate casualties.  You know, they used a two-story house for a hospital.  There were so many mangled bodies that the women who had to take on the task of doctoring, they were throwing amputated arms and legs out of a window, dropping them into wagons below.  Wagon after wagon…”

“And to drink from Bloody Pond.  There was nothing like the taste!  There wasn’t a lot of water near the battlefield.  The ground all around the pond was spongy with blood and gore.  It was so littered with corpses of men and horses that the water was like blood.  But it was the ones who crawled there for their last drink that made it so sweet.  You know, that pond still runs red sometimes even now,” Gathright finished.

Moccus heard the sound of a safe opening.  It was followed by soft rustles and mumbled counting.

“Here’s your payment.  Keep an eye on the town, but don’t go inside the boundary.  Not yet anyhow,” Gathright said with a leer in his tone that made the other man chuckle. 

“But I’m human.  I can just stroll right down main street,” the gruff man commented.

“Yeah, but they aren’t stupid.  Trust me, they’d figure you out.  Don’t do anything I don’t tell you to do.  Is that clear?” Gathright stated flatly.  “Let me know immediately if you see anything unusual.  And keep the creatures coming here to the bar.  Do that and I’ll give you double wages next time.”

A set of heavy footsteps tromped up the stairs.  Lighter footfalls moved only a few steps.  The soft click of a panel opening reached is sensitive ears.  Movement stopped, but he could hear Old Green Eyes breathing.  He could feel smug satisfaction from all the way across the basement.

Then he heard the metal wheels and springs of a clock being wound.  The panel clicked shut.  There was a hesitation, but the light footsteps traveled up the stairs.

Moccus made himself remain perfectly still for a full five minutes before he came out of hiding.  He hurried to the spot where Gathright and the human man had been.

He looked consideringly at the safe.  Moccus snuffled quietly as he thought.

No.  Old Green Eyes wouldn’t use something modern.  He would doubt this high tech safe, Moccus decided.  The clock however…

Pressing his snout against the front panel of the grandfather clock so there would be no sound, Moccus opened it.  As the panel moved, he pressed his teeth down on his tongue, to make sure he didn’t snort or grunt when he saw what he hoped was inside.

The barber pole — yes! he thought.  But I’ll never be able to carry it alone.  I wish Deme was here.  No, no I don’t.  This is much too dangerous to involve her.

His twisty tail wriggled anxiously as he considered how to proceed.

The orb.  I can manage a ball that size.  If I take the orb, they won’t be able to use the power of the barber pole.  But no… I might ruin the whole artifact if I remove the orb…  Still that would be better than Green Eyes and his master getting the power of the artifact.

Glowing in the darkness of the basement, Moccus made short work of disconnecting the orb.  Its radiance was considerably brighter than that of the otherworldly pigs.  He wrapped it in a handkerchief, which dampened the luminosity and helped him carry the orb.

Moccus skuttled away, running faster than his hooves had ever carried him.

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The end

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Join me and my featured guest, John W. Howell next time for part 2 of episode 12 of Atonement in Zugzwang.  Read free every weekend.  Friendly comments are encouraged.

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The Atonement Series

Atonement, Tennessee

Full series of e-books with one click:  relinks.me/B087JV25JT

Kindle:  rxe.me/HGSVA8A

Paperback: relinks.me/1481826948

Also in Spanish, translated by Olga Núñez Miret! The title for the Spanish-speaking market is Expiación y Magia

Atonement in Bloom

Kindle:  rxe.me/5RRBLH

Paperback:  relinks.me/1726882128

The Glowing Pigs, Snort Stories of Atonement, Tennessee

Kindle   rxe.me/LTBDNH

Paperback   relinks.me/1725891972

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Thursday Doors is a weekly feature allowing door lovers to come together to admire and share their favorite door photos from around the world. It’s hosted by Dan Antion.  Feel free to join in on the fun by creating your own Thursday Doors post each week and then sharing your link in the comments below, anytime between 12:01 am Thursday morning and Saturday noon (North American eastern time).

 

Thanks for opening this door.  Hugs!

 

This is a work of fiction.  Characters, names, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, locales, or events is entirely coincidental.

Copyright © 2023 by Teagan Ríordáin Geneviene

All rights reserved. 

No part of this work may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission.  Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the author’s rights.

All images are either the property of the author or provided by free sources, unless stated otherwise.

 

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