Snippet #2244878

Rum & Cola


“Quest… It is good to see you. I assume you had no problems dealing with that unexpected visitor? Good. Then I suppose there is no better time for this. We have very serious matters to discuss.”

Of course they did. Whenever Tekil Thorkildson payed Quest a visit, the stay always resulted in some deep, meaningful conversation that you probably never initially desired. Tekil was a friend of the family, the Dane was basically another father to him. And like a father, Tekil never passed up the chance to impart some sort of wisdom upon young Quest.

“Well, don’t just stand there. The fridge is alright, I’ll get you a drink.”

As Tekil patrolled the loft, Quest prepared the drinks. Two Cuba Libres, his drink of choice.

“I don’t know what the hell is going on, but I don’t wanna be a part of it. I’m getting the hell away from this shit!”

Whatshername was gathering her clothes in a fury. As she stormed out without a single glance his way, and slammed the door to the loft shut, he knew he wasn’t ever seeing that one again. And then there were two.

Standing on opposite sides of Quest’s marble island, the old teacher began to speak.

“Quest, you have known me for a long time, and I have known you since you were in your mother’s womb, and I met your father long before that. The circumstances of our meeting, however, are completely unknown to you.”

The ice clanged against the side of his glass as Quest took a sip. “But you’re about to make them known, right?” He pointed out cooly.

“He was part of an ancient order of people like you and me, people who can see more than the ordinary person, people who can interact with the supernatural, and people who have received gifts. You think you and your family are the only ones capable of wielding such extraordinary powers, but you are wrong. Several people in this world manifest gifts similar to yours, and I am one of them.”

Rather than react, Quest instead was blank. Once he starts, Tekil doesn’t stop. To interrupt him wouldn’t lead to any further clarity--so he waited.

“Your father’s order, my order, is made of people like you who vow to protect our realm, the realm of the living, from the creatures that lurk in it. Hakeem welcomed me in this order, taught and trained me, but now he has forgotten all he was, and can no longer recall his glorious past, neither initiate you in our ways.”
Until now, he was pacing back and forth as he spoke. But suddenly, Tekil came to a halt. His deep blue eyes peered straight into Quest’s golden orbs. Like a poor soul to Medusa, he was trapped, turned to stone.


“Therefore, I must be the one to take his place as your mentor and teach you to master your abilities and, more importantly, to use them in a meaningful way. That is why I ask you, Quest Arapeta Honoiwaira McBride: will you join our order and fulfill your father’s legacy? Will you join the Reapers?”

The ‘Reaper’ was leaning over the island, awaiting a response from his mentor’s legacy. The ball was in Quest’s court now. Leaned up against the second island directly behind him, he took a sip of his drink and sighed.

“Reapers.” A final sip from the glass, and the drink was gone. “And my dad.” He slammed the empty thing down on the countertop. “It makes sense though, the part about your group at least,” It was Quest’s turn to pace. Back and forth, back and forth he stepped as he spoke. “Even though she didn’t mention others, it didn’t make sense that the Maori were the only group the dealt with the spirit world. World’s too damn big for a dying tribe to handle. I always wondered who else was out there with our...abilities.” Quest stopped strutting and turned on his heel to face Tekil.

“I’m sure your order exists, but there’s no way my old man, a man who couldn’t even look at his own kids, let alone a spirit, was one of you.” He reached for the bottle of rum that sat by the two men’s empty glasses and filled them both, “Even if he was, it won’t change the fact that I’m not interested.” The young man’s golden eyes were filled with the beginning embers of resolve, “It’s like I told my ma: I don’t care about spirits, destiny, legacy, any of that. I’m gonna live my life the way I want to--the only spirits I deal with are the ones I hunt on TV.” Quest looked away from his glass and back at Tekil.

“So sorry. As much as I owe you, I’m gonna have to turn you down Tekil. Why not ask Hassan? This is more of his speed anyway.”