Skinwalkers

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Bear Hill’s loved a lot of women, but the only one who ever loved him back was his Mama. Beer and cigarettes are his favorite food. SKINWALKERS is his first novel. Look for his second book, BAD MOJO, to be released soon from Crossroad Press. You can now find Bear on
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I
was drunk off my ass when Donovan
DeChance
strolled into my life, looking for the book you’re now reading. Now, I know what you’re thinking:
DeChance
is just a character in fiction. Well, I call bullshit on that. He’s as real as you or me. I know. I’ve met him. Here’s how it went down.

I was in Chattanooga, my big bald ass putting the hurt on a barstool at Lamar’s while Gerald the bartender did the same to me, wielding whiskey as his weapon. The cigarette dangling from my goatee was hard at work, doing its part to add to the smoky cloud that always hovers over the place, refracting the shine of Christmas lights that hang year-round on wallpaper designed by a crack team of Martians and cowboys. The smell of the smoke mingled with that of the chicken frying in back—the latter being some of the best on the planet, much less the South. Billie Holiday was on the corner juke. Billie’s all right, I guess. Some of the old Blues that plays at Lamar’s is more my speed, though. But in this day and age, just so long it
ain’t
some ex-
Mouseketeer
, I don’t much complain.

My cell phone rang, vibrating across the bar through puddles of condensation. I let it. It was the fifth call that night from a coed who’d slept with me for the same reason she’d pierced her nose and covered herself in tats: she still was trying to get Daddy’s attention any way she could. Sad, but not my problem, then or now.

The phone rang again. This time, from another honey I kept on the side: one of those lonely, plastic housewives off Signal Mountain—the kind who wonders why her overweight daughter doesn’t love her. After all, when she makes comments, it’s for her daughter’s own good, right?
Ha.

I have a daughter. She’s in Europe, living with one of the few other women I’ve ever truly loved, her mother.

Maria—her mother—and I had some good years. The best in my life. But for some reason, she left me for another when she found out she was pregnant with Gabby. I guess she figured a stable life for her and our daughter with a good man working a respectable and high-paying job was preferable to one with a moody, loud-mouthed ex-con who has a weakness for the bottle and a penchant for punching employers in the face.

I know. She’s crazy, right?

Anyway, as I was saying, it was thinking about Maria and Gabby that’d brought me to Lamar’s that night in the first place, so I wasn’t in the mood for tail. I shut my phone off, not wanting to be bothered. But of course, it’s when you want to be left alone that the universe will come throwing people at you left and right. And that’s exactly what it did.

This tall
emo
with long, dark hair saddled up to the bar beside me. He was dressed to the nines. Looked like Loki from that
Avengers
movie—when he was in the long coat and scarf, ripping that dude’s eyeball out. Had the same mingling air of regality and creepiness about him.

I’ve kicked a lot of men’s asses in my day. You have to growing up poor in the South. Fighting’s a way of life. So I’m used to violence the way most folks are used to having their morning coffee. But I’d be lying if I said this guy hadn’t gotten my hackles up.

He caught Gerald’s attention and gestured to my glass. “Another whiskey for my friend, Mister—?“

“Mr. Hill,“ I said. “But folks call me Bear.“

“But I don’t know you.“ I ground out my cigarette in one of the ashtrays riding the bar. “And while I appreciate the whiskey, I’m certainly not your friend.“ There I went again, winning hearts and minds to the cause that is Bear Hill.

He peered down at me, his eyes flashing with what at the time I thought was the reflection of the out-of-season Christmas lights. “My name is Donovan
DeChance
.“

Gerald placed a newbie soldier in front of me. “Well, here’s to you, Donnie!“ I downed the amber liquid in a single gulp and wiped my salt-and-pepper goatee with the back of my hand. “You’re not a queer are you, Donnie? I’m flattered, but that’s not the way my teeter totters, if you know what I’m saying.“

Irritation pressed its way through the tall man’s lips in the form of a thin stream of air.

“I mean, it’s cool with me if you got sugar in your tank,“ I continued. “My sister’s a dike, and I fucking love her to pieces.“

DeChance
shook his head. “Mr. Hill…“

“Bear. Call me Bear. Like I said, most folks do.“

“
Bear
, I’ve traveled a long way to be here, tonight.
A very long way
. And I have something important—“

Something struck the back of my head and
DeChance’s
words fell away. I tumbled like an avalanche from my barstool and smacked the floor. I rose up on my hands, the room pulsing in time with the jackhammer extending from my skull.

I looked up and saw Rudy Velasquez standing over me, a metal napkin dispenser with a dent the size and shape of my crown held in his hand. Rudy’s no
hoss
like me. But he closes for the Lookouts—the local minor league team. So needless to say, the boy has an arm on him.

“Hey, Rudy.“

“Goddamn you, Bear! She’s my fucking wife!“

The moment the dispenser left Rudy’s hand, I knew it was a strike. I would’ve asked him why he couldn’t do that against the Nashville Sounds, but someone decided to turn the lights out.

When I awoke, it was to the mingling smells of fresh coffee and pie. I felt a dull ache in my head, as much from the whiskey as Ruby’s fastball. In either case, the pain wasn’t half the white-hot poker it should’ve been.

My eyes opened and the water-stained ceiling of my efficiency apartment greeted them. I heard the sound of liquid pouring and turned my head to see Donovan
DeChance
in my kitchenette, his coat off and his sleeves rolled up as he emptied coffee into a mug brandishing the Hooters logo.

Hey. What can I say? I’m all classy and shit.

I sat up on my Goodwill-appropriated couch and the room spun. But only a little.

“Good,“
DeChance
said. “You’re awake. I made coffee.“ Mug in hand, he took a seat at the table and chairs serving as the efficiency’s only other articles of furniture. “And pie.“

My eyes found the pie I’d smelled. It rested on the table beside an expectant fork and saucer. I stood with a groan, and waited for the room to solidify. When it did, I stumbled to the table and took a seat.

DeChance
carved out a wedge of pie, and I seized my fork in anticipation, my mouth watering.

“What happened with Rudy?“

DeChance
slipped the pie onto my plate. “I convinced him there were better ways to handle his…
disagreement
with you.

“How’s your head?“

I chopped off the tip of the pie wedge with my fork. “Not too bad.“ An idea seized me. “That
your
doing?“

DeChance
nodded.

“Damn. Thanks, man.“

I stuffed the pie into my mouth, and it was a flavor explosion. “Holy shit, dude. Is that…?“ I chewed, savoring the morsel. “Is that a fucking sugar cookie crust I’m tasting?“

Another nod.

“You’re a master.“ I swigged coffee and swallowed another mouthful of pie. If the first bite had been delicious, the second was heaven turned inside-out. “Donnie, you keep making me pies like this, and I might turn queer for you after all.“

DeChance
exhaled and rubbed the spot where his nose met his forehead.

I tend to have that effect on people.
 

I emptied the mug and gobbled up the rest of the pie.

“I read your book.“

I dropped my fork and swallowed hard, the last of the pie vanishing down my throat. My eyes cut to the small safe in the room’s corner. The safe stood wide open despite no one but myself knowing its combination.

“I see you’re somewhat of a dinosaur. No laptop. No thumb drive. No printed pages. That’s good.“

I
lasered
in on
DeChance
. The brown accordion folder containing my handwritten manuscript, notes, and research materials now rested in his hands, having appeared there as if by magic.

An ocean of dizziness washed over me and the room spun. Apparently, I wasn’t as okay as I’d first thought.

 
“Your novel is as about as couth as you yourself,“ he said. “But it’s a real page-turner. I’ll give you that.“