After a restless sleep and a cold shower, Callen sat in the warm glow of the Heavenly Pint's massive fireplace. His computer was idle beside him on a large comfortable couch. His arm was rested on the backpack and his fingers nervously played with one of the straps. A sluggish fly buzzed around his half-eaten chocolate chip muffin Rurik had given him.
He yawned. His exhaustion had hung on him all morning and the crackling flames in the fireplace entranced him. The flashes of red and orange flickered in his irises. He missed Derrick and his mother. He took a deep breath and the feeling of helplessness washed over him. Cancer was something he understood, but here, now, with the arrival of those monsters, everything had changed. Hell had somehow mutated from tiny cells in his body into a different kind of nightmare.
"Mom, why didn't you tell me?" Callen whispered. He hoped that she would answer from behind him and that her being unconscious was just a cruel joke. When it didn't come, loneliness crept in. He felt a tear roll down his cheek. "You should have told me."
"What did you say, Callen?" Ania asked from the opposite side of the couch. She had a new drawing pad resting on her knees that she was filling with her comic characters.
"I just can't believe mom didn't tell us about any of this." Her voice instantly shook off his feeling of loneliness. He felt stupid for allowing himself to feel that. She was always there by his side, no matter what.
"She had to have her reasons and besides, if you knew things like those monsters were real, wouldn't you do what you could to protect your children from that reality?"
"I don't know." Callen played with his father's cross that now hung around his neck. "I don't have kids."
Ania rolled her eyes. "Come on, you're not that bad with the emotional stuff to not be able to understand that. Just think, wouldn't you do anything to stop someone else from having cancer like yours?"
Callen nodded. "Yeah." He sighed. "But, I try not to think about it."
"From the look on your face it isn't working. And if she did tell us, what difference would have it made? You'd still be sick. You'd still be in the hospital, in a bed. You'd just know there were demons lurking in the shadows in addition to the ones in your body."
"Yeah." Callen shrugged. "And just when I thought I was getting better...they showed up, and Hell got worse."
"You're having nightmares, aren't you?" Ania asked. Callen just swallowed hard and she continued. "I am." Her face stiffened with the emotionless bravado of a soldier.
"Yeah." Callen sighed. "But, I think there both nightmares and memories all jumbled up."
"Like what?" Ania asked.
"Stuff about Mom, Derrick, the metal demons...Dad..." Callen sighed.
"Dad?" Ania said. "Any idea what it means?"
"I don't know, probably nothing." Callen shrugged. "I just want Mom to be okay."
"Grandpa is on it. He'll save mom. He has to."
"I hope so. I just wish he had more time to spend with us. I feel..."
Clunking and stomping came from the stairs into the basement. "Lost? Worthless? Helpless?" Rurik wheezed as he carried a keg up from the cellar. "I got something that will cure that right up." He chuckled as he caught his breath. He grabbed a bar rag and wiped the sweat from his brow. "Of Couse, the type o' ale that ran out last night has to be the one that is stored in the worst possible location..."
"I don't think Callen or I can carry a keg..." Ania pointed out.
"No lass, yeh can't," Rurik admitted. "But that doesn't mean I don't be needing some help." He rummaged behind the bar and grabbed a piece of paper and began jotting down a list. "Alright, Ania...I'm gonna teach yeh how to hook up the taps and clean the bar. Callen, I need yeh to go into the basement and bring up these bottles off the shelf in the back." He walked over and handed Callen the list. "Usually yer grand pop helps me to restock the bar befer a big Phillies or Eagles game...but right now he's got his hands full."
Callen started to grumble, but the look he got from Ania shut him up. He scanned the list. "Alright." Callen headed down into the basement.
It was easy to find the shelves of bottles, but before beginning to gather what Rurik needed, he glanced around to find the hidden door they had come in yesterday. The damp room was filled with barrels that had recently been shuffled around, so spotting it was almost impossible. He quickly gave up and began carrying the bottles up the stairs.
On his sixth trip up, he stopped at the base of the stairs when he heard the slam of the door into the bar and a girl's voice among the muffled sounds of casual introduction. There was a scrape of a stool being dragged followed by the plop of a book bag being tossed on the floor.
Callen climbed the stairs with the five bottles wrapped in his arms. He saw a green bandana holding back a mane of dark curls. Climbing slowly revealed the profile of her pretty face. She wasn't but a year older than Callen and carried herself with an air of mischief. He paused and gawked when he reached the top of the stairs, but the creek of the old wood floor drew her attention to him and she flashed a bright smile. He almost dropped the bottles when her green eyes met his.
"Whoa, there cowboy." She said as she rubbed her index finger around the edge of a mug full of water. She spoke as though she had grown up in Philadelphia. "Put those bottles down before you wipe the drool from your right cheek. Rurik had most of those imported." She grinned and the warm firelight reflected off her high cheekbones. Her smile was elegant.
Callen found himself rubbing his cheek on his shoulder as he approached the bar. He blushed when he put the bottles down and found a wet spot. The tingle from the lingering sensitivity of his new scar wouldn't let him forget it. "Don't flatter yourself." He grunted to try to save himself from embarrassment. "I've been running up and down stairs for the last half-hour. It's sweat, wise one. And besides, I wouldn't classify someone from the northeast as a cowboy."
"Would you prefer Yankee then?" The girl chuckled.
"I'm from Boston," Callen said. "And you are...?"
"A Sawks fan, eh?" The girl grinned as she imitated a Boston accent. "If you like cheering for the underdog, you'll fit in well here, just do yourself a favor...if you're gonna buy sports memorabilia...make sure it's a Philly team. I wouldn't want you to get in trouble."
"Ain't that the truth." Rurik laughed. "Anyway, This be Sadie. Sadie MacRey." Rurik leaned on the bar. "She's Webb's daughter..."
"Thanks, Rurik, for breaking my fun. I wanted to enjoy my anonymity for a few more moments." Sadie mischievously pouted.
"Who's Webb?" Ania asked.
"Oh, he's the boss of our operations here in the States." Corth shrugged. "He's currently out of the country."
"He's on a dig in Greenland," Sadie said. "Anyway, Sir Cor...err...your grandpa messaged me on the way home from school. Ick...glad that's over for the summer." She stuck out her tongue. "Told me you two are here and he wants me to show you around."
"Alright..." Callen glanced at Ania, who just shrugged. "So, there's more to this place than just a church, a rectory, an underground car garage, and a bar across the street?"
Sadie laughed. "You-bet-cha. But, I'm not referring to a tour of our hodgepodge. That will come later when the adults get their stuff in order. I'm talking about Philly and occult life." She turned to Rurik. "What do you think? Helga's to start?"
"Aye. That's a good way to ease them into it."
"What's Helga's?" Ania asked.
"You'll see." Sadie sounded excited. "And you two better be hungry. Come on."