The Nosferatu Adventures
page 248, chapter 248
Dagan was feeling the heat of the sun as it began to rise over the edge of the cityscape. The salt of the water's spray as it was constantly in the air, sloshing around the edges of the cargo. His forearms scraped and covered in dirt. No one on the docks ever seemed to notice the scrapes and cuts disappeared as quickly as they happened or that he did not have calluses from the crates; even though he never had to wear gloves. To the other dock workers, he was just a drifter who appeared looking for work a few months ago. The fishing boats always seemed to need unloading, the workers were nice enough, and it kept him physically busy. No time to think about the fact he had stayed in human form since being there. He had even gotten used to the fact the radio station still thought it was 1954.
The City; hadn't changed at all in the decade since he'd last been here. Sniffing, the auburn haired male pushed the memory out of his mind. That had been the first time Nosferatu had run off.
Counting up the crates in front of him, Dagan nodded to himself, marked off a list on a clipboard and called it for the morning. He had three hours before the next shipment came. Grabbing up the thin t-shirt he'd taken off and tossed down beside a bench, he headed towards the diner. When he was sure no one was looking, Dagan stuffed the t-shirt into his back pocket like a rag, magick misting a grey one. Hiding the fact he was a shapeshifter had gotten easier over the course of things. The longer he stayed in human form, the easier it was to resist transforming. Though, it was an empty victory, he needed to be able to blend in. Loki had tasked him with finding some mystical box that had been cloaked to the god. Dagan had paid a few local divers, mostly teenagers, to fish along the bottom of the water-bed, for anything that might have lodged there. He could have done it himself, being a werewolf he could stay underwater for long amounts of time. But when the prize hadn't turned up within a hundred feet of the docks, and he realized he'd need to go deeper off the coast, he hired others to do it. Blending in would not have been so easy if he'd been scratched or bitten by a mermaid. He shivered at the thought of it. With all his supernatural strengths, he had to admit he was still terrified of the idea of being poisoned. Or eaten alive.
Wiping a hand over the back of his neck, the auburn haired male winced at the memory of having been knocked off the ship all those years ago, being helpless in the water as he was attacked by mermaids then waking up in the small space, only to die over and over. Snarling he opened the door to the diner, the little bell jingling as he did. That part of his life was over. That part of his life had been connected to the banshee. If he hadn't been mated to her back then he would never have been in the position to begin with.
He sat down with a thug on the farthest stool at the counter near the jukebox. Leaning one strong arm over, the lycanthrope hit B17 on the machine, watching as the mechanical arm streamed across, grabbing the little 45 and dropping it into place. The whole diner suddenly seemed to be washed by the song 'Twilight Time' by the Platters. The radio station might have been stuck in one year, but the jukebox catered to a full decade.
The waitress smiled at him as she placed the large dinner plate on the paper mat in front him, followed by a smaller one. The steam still rolling off the hashbrowns and eggs forced the werewolf to lean back just a centimeter to avoid a face full of it. The coffee was just as hot, as he watched the fresh dark liquid falling gently into the cup beside his left hand.
"Now I better see that lemon meringue pie still on your plate till after you eat that breakfast. I swear sometimes you're like a little kid, sneaking your dessert first."
"Yes ma'am." he agreed stirring milk into his coffee. His nose twitched at the tickle of a familiar scent. Looking around, the auburn haired male sighed under his breath as a large stack of bacon and sausage were handed to a costumer at the far end of the diner. Reaching for the syrup, Dagan licked the sweet sticky liquid off his thumb as he dumped it over the extra large stack of pancakes in front of him. It wasn't bacon, but it would have to do. He was needing to keep his werewolf nature under control, and for the moment, a vegetarian diet was helping.
"That looks lovely." a male voice said suddenly over his shoulder. Dagan felt a strange tightness in his knees at the sound of his voice, like he was ready to pounce. Leaning forward, the werewolf guarded his plate, shoveling two forkfuls into his mouth, chewing but not tasting. "I'll have some of that." the guy continued his eyes wide addressing the waitress. "With an extra side of bacon." he nodded smugly, elbowing the shapeshifter. He was in his forty's, with a nearly hawk nose, grey eyes, and sandy coloured short hair. "You know I haven't had a really great plate of bacon since..." the guy shifted his eyes to glance at Dagan sideways. "Since a certain banshee cooked me lunch one afternoon." he closed his eyes gesturing to the empty spot in front of him. "Oh thank you love." he continued as the waitress handed him a large plate. Grabbing two strips of the bacon, the guy began chomping loudly, flinging one around as he talked. "The best BLT, I'd had in over a half century." Turning in his seat, the guy pointed to himself. "What do you think of my new look?" Dagan tried to ignore the smell of the bacon grease as it dripped down the edge of the plate. "I got bored of the lawyer look after a whole decade." It was Bacchus. That explained the wanting to pounce on him, ripping his neck to pieces.
"What do you want?" he asked slurping his coffee, still trying not to notice the bacon.
"It's not what I want. But what Loki wants." Bacchus smoothed down the purple tie he was wearing, unbuttoning the equally purple suite jacket. "That trinket he's got you hunting for. Been what? Four months already? You'll never find it at this rate. In fact, I'm guessing he'll start to put the pressure on you, demanding you look harder, keep searching no matter how long it will take. Which I'm pretty sure will be exactly 139 years." the sandy haired god said shuffling some more bacon around the plate licking the grease noisily off his fingers. "Which is exactly the amount of time he's got left for his side of the deal he and I have. A deal in which our favourite scream queen gets to be his personal pet. He's hogging her." Bacchus said pointing yet another piece of the crispy bacon in the werewolf's direction. "Think about it wolfboy. Why else would he have you on this super secret mission alone? Something this big, would surely call for the three of you puppies, or at the very lest two. Better yet, your brother the pirate would be more equipped to handle deep sea adventures. So why turn to you? Why ask the one male out there who still has nightmares when he watches moby dick. Why put such a large task in the hands of the one guy who Loki knows is afraid of the ocean now? Hum? If he didn't have an ulterior motive?" Dagan cracked his knuckles as he turned his eyes towards Bacchus, his mouth slightly puckered. "How about we blow this fishstick stand, and I get you what you're looking for. Shave a good 85 years off your search. Then we go to Loki and how unhappy the trinket makes him?"
The werewolf said nothing as he sat there for a few long seconds, then simply reached across the space between them taking the nearest piece of bacon.
TO BE CONTINUED... NEXT SEASON
Tune in again for another installment of the Nosferatu Adventures starring your heroine...me(straight up story. Damn, I miss bacon.)