The Glassbreaker Goes Home (The King Henry Tapes), page 7
Minutes ticked away at dinner. Food and drink all flowed. The shadows finally shattered as night rolled in. For some reason the radio was just barely on in the background, playing 70s classic rock, since Old Man Price gonna Old Man Price.
As expected, King Henry didn’t have to lead any conversation. Got off making the occasional comment no one else dared to utter. Mostly he sat back, enjoyed the food and the atmosphere. Enjoyed stealing a peek or glance at Val every now and then too. Red dress gonna red dress. Although . . . somehow, seeing her smiling and laughing was even better. Even enjoying my family being around, which is a fucking miracle, ain’t it?
Wouldn’t last, King Henry figured. Too many people that could fuck it up, him included. Stupid Vega telling me about stupid vampires ain’t gonna help, is it? Nope, might not last, but while it was there . . . for once in his life, family felt good.
“How did you two meet?” Susan asked of Vega and JoJo.
Yeah, sometimes the conversation was normal shit. Weather, cars, phones, even sports. Old Man Price and his Raider Nation love, no matter how many disappointing years in a row they’d racked up since the Madden years.
Regular conversations . . . sometimes. Other times . . .
Susan dropping that casual question bomb.
“How did you two meet?”
King Henry never had heard a non-bullshit exact answer. To be fair . . . not like King Henry had ever pried overly much. He had more important things to worry about instead of the romantic goo goo la la angle. Like . . . hey, Little Sis, you think doggy-style is better as a human or does that gnarly ribbed coyote wang just hit all the buttons better? Hell, are they even the same buttons? Coyote pussy ain’t like sideways and corkscrewed, is it?
Plus, King Henry asking how JoJo and Vega met would’ve earned him a quick kick to the shin. Just like most of the other questions King Henry tried to ask JoJo. But Suze? Had that Oh-I’m-Just-A-Tiny-Bit-Crazy protection forcefield going for her.
JoJo shared one of them married people looks with Vega, still hesitating.
“She was employed by a competitor of mine,” Vega eventually concocted his brew. “She wanted an advancement that he was both unable and unwilling to supply, while my organization could happily welcome her among our number, raise and bonus intact.”
“Not very romantic,” Susan playfully scolded. “Maybe even negative romance. Business, really?
“We hadn’t met met yet at that point,” JoJo added.
“And having a passing acquaintance with said competition myself, Vega wasn’t so sure about your loyalties,” King Henry butted in between taco bites.
“What’s wrong with the competition guy?” Old Man Price’s parental defenses activated on cue.
“Absolutely nothing,” JoJo gained an edge to her, “Igor is a huge softie. He took me in and taught me most of what I know.”
“Given her high school grades, that’s not as impressive as it sounds,” King Henry whispered to Susan on his right.
Val elbowed him from his other side.
“What were you doing for . . . Igor?” Susan delicately pushed.
JoJo tried to find the words while also glaring at her brother over the grades remark.
“Espionage,” Vega just came out and supplied, with a small but important twist, “Corporate espionage, of course. Nothing too illegal, still . . . I am quite glad those days are behind my Josephine.”
“My daughter was a spy?” Old Man Price couldn’t believe it.
Vega shrugged with that fake you-caught-me gesture he used so well to get away with everything short of murder. Okay, probably murder too. “Now you know why it took some time for us to meet meet.”
“What changed?” Susan kept them on course.
“The orientation procedures for my organization aren’t deadly—after all, it is just business!—but they are still . . . quite strenuous.” In the moment, Vega purposely spoke at a storyteller’s whisper so you could barely hear him over the radio, “I personally view the proceedings for every single employee, no matter how busy my schedule. A leader must know the men and women working for him or he is ineffective at best, ruinous at worst. This test . . . you see a human being’s inner workings under stress—the very core of them. You learn which among their number can be built around or conversely, which you must buttress with stronger peers. I have seen many candidates retreat from the tests or struggle at the decisive moment or . . a number sadly even lose their heads so completely they must be fired.
“But I have never seen anyone tackle the challenges as fiercely as your sister did. Even I took a breath of calm, but not her, not my Josephine! Then in the test’s aftermath, the result was . . . memorable. She was so young and so small, but . . . her strength. It drew me in at once and as an old-fashioned creature I knew love could not be far behind passion. I made it my mission to be close to her, even went behind my secretary’s back to place Josephine on my personal staff. In the next days and weeks I discovered a very intelligent, ambitious, and inquisitive young woman looking for understanding in this chaotic world. My family thought I was a fool, even bespelled, and perhaps I was. I offered marriage in a month, but she made me wait six. I imagine I was quite insufferable . . .”
That settled Old Man Price down and earned appropriate feminine awws from the rest of the table.
Not done causing trouble of her own yet, Susan turned to King Henry as Target Number Two. “What about you?”
“How did I meet Vega?” he played dumb.
Susan pinned him with a sisterly glare that promised a spanking if he kept wasting her time. “Valentine.”
With a sigh, King Henry put down another taco he’d been contemplating. “Sure we can’t talk about how I met Vega?”
JoJo nervously giggled at his reaction. “Is it that bad?”
“Just . . . ya know . . . boring. First day of school and all that,” King Henry kept hedging the details.
Val . . . not so much. Val went right for the balls. Not even a kick or a punt or a good ol’ solid punch. She took one of his balls, put it on a plate, then she flicked it.
“He made me cry,” she mischievously declared.
“King Henry Price!” Susan scolded in exactly the same voice and tone as when she’d taken care of him all those years ago.
And how the fuck could he explain his way out of this one without bringing up the Mancy? What am I gonna do, make Val out to be some crazy teenage pyromaniac killing dogs? No, that was MASSIVE negative points. Too many for even King Henry to dare to risk.
Still, he had to try. If only cuz Val was enjoying him squirming just a tad too much. “Okay . . . so I was a late arrival and I didn’t want to get stuck—”
Best Girlfriend Ever cut him off at the knees, smashed his face into the table, then teabagged his unconscious face, “Also to get a little bit risqué: the first time we were together, right in the middle of our most intimate moment, he jumped off of me—the whole bed even—then raced across the room to a corner and threw up.”
Vega laughed so hard he almost died from accidentally inhaling an enchilada. Old Man Price grunted out a ‘Damn, Boy!’ Susan gasped, ‘how could you!’ And JoJo . . . being she was JoJo, threw in a casual under-her-breath, “bet he was drunk.”
“I wasn’t fucking drunk,” King Henry immediately growled back at his newest target.
“Oh, like anyone has ever fallen for you without some alcohol being involved,” JoJo snapped back.
“She’s still here, ain’t she? Look like a lush, does she?”
Val took an innocent sip of water.
“This is payback for the whole fireball-at-the-dinner-table thing, ain’t it?” King Henry whispered furiously.
“For two long years I have planned my revenge!” Val teased him with a mad scientist impersonation.
“Fireball?” Old Man Price asked with raised eyebrows. How the man had that kind of hearing after working thirty years in a warehouse was anyone’s guess.
“Part of the Long Conversation,” King Henry covered in a mutter.
JoJo’s eyes snapped open as quick as her tongue could lash you. “Conversation? We didn’t agree to any sort of conversation!”
“It ain’t a democracy.”
“Speaking of fireballs,” Val deftly saved them all from the precipice by using her boyfriend as a floatation device, “Have any of you ever heard the story about how King Henry burned down the Mound?”
King Henry was more than furious this time, he even turned and poked a finger into her shoulder. “Someone is getting punished tonight, preferably spanked, for telling lies!”
“What’s a Mound?” Old Man Price asked.
“It’s a large hill at the Institution,” Susan supplied, making King Henry raise an eyebrow in her direction. “What? It’s hard to miss it and I asked a few questions. No one told me that you burned it down though! Really, Little Bro? Really?”
“No, not really, Val’s the one who did it.”
Val sighed like a little angel who couldn’t possibly ever misbehave. “A decade and he’s still trying to blame it on me . . .”
“There’s this athletic competition,” King Henry explained, refusing to go down with this ship, “a tournament of sorts you could say. Run up the hill, hit a button at the top, while the other team tries to stop you. They give you some laser tag vest things and . . . it’s tons of fun.”
“Our class won three years in a row,” Val put in, but then slyly tried to steal control of the story, “It was our first championship match and—”
“And Valentine Ward decided to set some brush on fire for cover, only it kept spreading and spreading,” King Henry finished with the true version of events.
“Are you sure?” Val teased him. “That’s not what I’ve heard . . .”
“Yes, I’m sure. I had a damn good view of it while you dragged me along behind you. Since I was doing so much screaming it’s seared pretty well in my memory! Only, since I was along, all the teachers decided it had to be me, not Miss Perfect. Had to be the Foul Mouth instead, didn’t it?”
“To be fair to popular opinion,” Val reminded, “you did drug half of the student body with laxative-dosed waffles a couple days earlier.”
More laughing, more gasps, another ‘King Henry Price!’ from Susan.
“I’m in love with the devil,” he decided.
Val only beamed at him.
“Okay,” King Henry admitted, “that one is on me. But not the Mound!”
“So he threw up on you, made you cry on numerous occasions I’m guessing, dragged you into multiple instances of criminal malfeasance,” JoJo added up with words that sounded a whole lot like she’d learned them from her husband. “Why are you voluntarily putting up with him? Bad boy fetish? Even I gave up on that phase, dear.”
“Did you just ‘dear’ my girlfriend?” King Henry couldn’t help himself no matter how deep he was already in the hole. “You’re like five seconds older than us.”
“I’m a mother!” JoJo even pointed at the luckily still napping Mistake-in-Waiting. “It conveys authority and wisdom.”
“Pretty sure it only conveys hormones, a vagina looks like two uncooked hotdogs pressed together, and lactating nipples,” King Henry shot back.
“As the present conversation proves,” Val again got back on track, “your brother isn’t intimidated by anyone. Including me. Especially me. I need that very much in a partner. I hate saying it, it sounds so superior and . . .”
“Welf . . . sounds very Welf,” King Henry helped. “You ain’t ever gonna be that, Val. And everyone ever laid eyes on you knows you’re special.”
That smile went extra bright. “Maybe if I hadn’t . . .” Hadn’t been the Purifier, but she couldn’t say it at the table. “But I am intimidating for . . . quite a few reasons—doubly intimidating, you could say—and so most men are just plain too terrified of me to see me beyond that fear. But not King Henry Price.”
“To be fair, mostly just stupidity instead of any bravery,” he pointed out.
Val’s turn to poke him in the shoulder. “King Henry’s the only one who’s gotten a look at what’s inside of me and not only didn’t flinch from it, but didn’t have that insidiously horrible thought that he and he alone could control it for me. Instead, he saw it and proclaimed it beautiful and trusted that I could control it. Also, when I’m with him I never know if he’ll be the one to surprise me or the other way around and before it’s all over I’ve usually lost count at who’s ahead anyway. So . . . if Mr. Vega told the truth about how you met, I suppose you could say it’s a very similar reason as why he finds you attractive as a partner, Josephine. A Price trait, perhaps?”
JoJo’s lips compressed, but for once a barb didn’t fly.
“Not Price exactly,” Old Man Price grunted. “It was their mother who was never scared of anyone or anything.”
“Don’t worry, Dad,” Susan joked, “At least I got your common sense.”
Val put a hand on King Henry’s arm, still not finished; perhaps wanting to repay all her earlier torture with kind words. “And, of course, King Henry is so much kinder and more empathic than he ever lets on. He pretends to be a cynic, but really he’s an optimist annoyed that so many other people just won’t try to solve problems like he does. Creative too, have you ever seen his glasswork? It’s all beautiful. And . . . he’d die for me. I’d curse him as he did it, but that wouldn’t stop him. If we ever make the mistake of having our own children . . . he’ll die for them too. I’d curse him even more then and every day after, but . . . what woman could resist that much devotion?”
JoJo glanced over at Vega, who threw a careful politician’s smile back at her. “I know Horatio would do the same for Nicholas . . .”
Who just then decided to wake up with a big scream.
“Someone else’s dinner time too!” JoJo announced her escape, before absconding with the Demon Toad. Susan went with her, for company King Henry assumed, since JoJo’s mini mounds would be doing all the hard work.
Suppose if she’s breastfeeding for a long while that means her body might not let her pop out another one . . . so there’s something. That’s how it works, right? Uteruses, even more magical than vaginas!
Even if she did breastfeed, eventually nature would start shifting back towards reproducing the next generation and then . . .
Problem One Billion with Babies: there will always be more of them.
The thought made King Henry glance Val’s way again. She glowed at the regard, all content and at ease for once. No one needed Boomworm here. Or worse . . . the Purifier. No crisis to face. No enemy to kill. No recruit to save. Nope, just family. And killing your family is considered rude.
“You got to promise me a few more years of just us before we even think about that crazy shit,” he told her.
Her lips twitched. “But what will the world do without the chosen one?”
“The world can fuck off, same as Ceinwyn told it to do.”
“Well then . . . I suppose I’m in no rush and I don’t hear any clocks ticking, biological or otherwise so . . . years sounds good.”
“Good,” he grunted.
Even talking about it . . .
Even thinking about it.
Very good.
“If I were you,” Val whispered, “I’d be more worried about Susan than me, she’s much more enraptured by Nick than anyone else, even your father.”
Again, Old Man Price had the ears of an eagle. “She doesn’t have a fellow, does she?”
“No fellow,” King Henry assured. “Very much no.” And not likely to get one at the Asylum.
First, it wasn’t like she could get pregnant at the Asylum—neither could Val, thank the Mancy—but even then, Anima Madness was the ultimate stigma in mancer society, especially among the Old Mancy crowd. That should be some cover. Even if King Henry did have to admit his older sister was attractive and in the perfect bloom of womanhood and . . .
My sister is hot, okay?
But—luckily—Susan wasn’t as outgoing or—experienced—as JoJo. Susan wouldn’t seek men out . . . surely. So it was on the men and how pretty they might find the flower . . .
Touch my sister’s flower and I’ll kick you in the balls so hard they corkscrew around your leg like a tetherball around a pole!
“You look a little unsure, Boy,” Old Man Price brusquely snapped.
“None that I know of,” King Henry corrected, “None that she’s mentioned.”
Still politely poking at his food, Vega jumped on the sure smack upside King Henry’s head as it was presented so perfectly before him, “Young Mister Welf seemed quite attentive of her.”
People really need to stop mentioning that . . . else their balls gonna tetherball too!
“Mostly he was just pulling his polite-aristocrat-servant-of-the-downtrodden shtick . . . and he was shocked to find out there’s a Price in this world that ain’t automatically cursing him,” King Henry decided. Not like he’s called to check on her, has he? They talked a bit before he left to Welf Manor, but . . . nah.
Nah.
Fuck nah.
Nope . . .
Fucking nope!
“She mention anything to you?” King Henry asked Val just to be sure.
“No, but I’ve been even busier than you have,” Val answered carefully. “Still, you’d imagine that if she had left someone, anyone behind at . . . that place . . . she’d be completely distraught over it and would want to learn what happened to him.”
The matter settled—and staying fucking settled you flower stealing fucktards!—they returned to what was left of their food and drink, King Henry reaching across to slip another mole enchilada onto his plate. Old Man Price and Vega swapped some genealogy back and forth, Marge asked after the comic shop, and Val had to describe her own family in Palo Alto.
“And how is your Miss Dale these days?” Vega followed up to ask Valentine about her other parental figure. Bringing up Ceinwyn . . . one could almost assume Vega might be trying to cause some fucking trouble.
