We drove in relative silence for an hour or so until we got to the outskirts of Austin. Elijah drove the shuttle bus onto Rt. 71 and took us around the south side of the city and out towards the airport. Before we got there, he turned down Rt. 183 and drove past McKinney Falls State Park and onto a small street that eventually led to a dirt road that wound around to what can only be described as a compound.

  There were four rancher-style buildings all sitting at various distances from a circular driveway loop that we entered as we approached. All the buildings looked like they started life as houses rather than offices or anything like that, but it was clear they had all been altered and repurposed for different things. The one we stopped in front of had a wheelchair ramp and a set of two large doors set into the main entryway. It was situated between a small house that had all the windows covered and a large black steel door in the front, and the biggest house that looked like…well…a house.

  At the end of the loop was a long, straight house that was the “guest quarters”, but looked to my eyes like a platoon barracks.

  We parked and I went back to fumble with Frank's chair and the damned wheelchair lift, but Elijah came back and calmly said, “I’ve got this. You guys go ahead inside.”

  I looked at him. "Thank you."

  He just shrugged an started unstrapping Frank.

  I turned around to head forward and was extremely pleased to see that Damon had already gotten out and left us. As Sarah, Martina, and I left the bus and headed towards the house with the wheelchair ramp, Sam came walking out of the double doors that opened automatically for him.

  “Welcome to my humble southern abode.”

  “I still don’t understand why you’re here in Texas instead of Alaska.” I heard myself say.

  He glared at me and said nothing until we got up the ramp next to him. “Because there’s some seriously fucked up shit happening here, so here is where I’m needed. Plus - tacos. Remember?”

  “Can we stop this now?” Sarah said. “Where are we taking Frank?”

  “Right this way, Sarah. This house is both the medical facilities and the tech facilities.”

  “Medical and Tech?” I asked.

  “Yes. Power requirements among other things made it simpler to put them in the same building and upgrade the infrastructure of one house instead of multiple houses. The front is medical, the back is my offices and communications center.”

  We watched as Elijah wheeled Frank into the building. Sarah and I followed as he took him to the honest to Gods full-sized operating theater. It looked exactly like any operating room in any hospital in America. I was impressed.

  The doctor met us there and helped get Frank situated and began questioning him about his injuries. The Doctor. Who worked for Sam. In a compound hospital. I realized that this situation had become much bigger than I thought. Maybe I was in over my head. Great.

  Sarah stayed by his side, and as Elijah moved out past me he said, “Follow.” and kept walking. I looked over at the front door to Sam, where Martina was giving him a piece of her mind and he was standing there glaring at her with a sullen look that made me think more of a small child than a God. I shook my head and followed Elijah to wherever he was taking me so we could get this over with. We walked out and he took me down a hallway to a side door that opened facing the Large house.

  He pointed past it to the large barracks-style house and said, “The far house is where you’ll all be staying. There’s a large open bunkhouse in the front, but if you walk through it to the back, there are a series of six private studio apartments. Pick one.” He turned away and let the door close in my face.

  I walked over past the large house and up to the front door of the barracks and opened it up. True to his word, there were about five double bunks along each wall with a footlocker at either end. I walked down the middle of the room until I came to the back wall. On my left was a door with a sign showing it to be bathrooms, and on my right, there was an unmarked door I assumed went to the studio apartments. I tried the door and found it unlocked, so I went in. There was a hallway with three doors on each wall. Each door had a number on it, 1, 3, and 5 on my left, 2, 4, and 6 on my right. At the end of the hallways was a door leading to the outside.

  I went down the hallway to room six and tried the door. A key was in the lock. I turned the key and the door opened on a room that was essentially a bed, a chair and desk, a tiny closet, and a small bathroom. It was heaven.

  I took the key, closed the door, locked it behind me, and then laid out on the bed. My hands were shaking and my body hurt everywhere. I took out two pills from the bottle in my pocket and put them both in my mouth. I was asleep in seconds.

  For the first time I could remember, my nightmares included a woman with a painted blue face screaming at me to run. In the middle of the dream, she turned into Martina screaming at me to go away.

  I woke up to knocking at the door. I rubbed my eyes and looked at my watch. Three hours had passed, so I guessed it was time for a late dinner.

  “Who is it?” I called out.

  “Your fondest wish,” Martina called from the other side.

  I smiled, letting the nightmare go, and said, “A rare steak and a baked potato with a good Italian Red?”

  A mock outraged, “Italian? You mean Argentine, you uncultured savage!” was her reply.

  I got out of the bed and padded over to the door, opening it to see that wry smirk I was growing to appreciate. “I stand corrected. Argentine wine.”

  “Of course.”

  “Of course.” I echoed.

  She looked me over and said, “Get your shoes on and wake up. It’s time for a working dinner. We need to plan out the next steps. Frank is done with the doctor for now, and Sam has dinner almost ready.

  Still half asleep. I asked, “Sam is making dinner?” I slipped my shoes on and pulled my shirt over my head.

  “Don’t be obtuse. He has people for that. There's a full-time staff here, Dru. This is one of four compounds Sam owns and utilizes in the Americas to do whatever it is he does.”

  “Fight Broadhead?” We started down the hallway and out into the barracks.

  “Among much more,” She turned to me and put her hand on my chest, stopping me as we got halfway down the room. “Dru, he’s a God. Remember that. More, he’s Raven. Raven is, among many things, the Trickster God. Trickster. Do you understand? Dangerous, secretive, and prone to impulsive action. And a lot of his grand plans have unintended consequences. Assuming they don't just go tits up.”

  “I thought the trickster was a Coyote.”

  Her eyes got wide and a quick look of genuine terror crossed her face. “Dios mio, don't ever say that, Dru. I mean it. He is not the Coyote and he will kill you if you call him that. Raven considers himself far more than Coyote, and to compare them is to court death. I’m serious, Dru. Please, never even say the word aloud around him.”

  “What, is it some kind of professional jealousy?”

  “Dru, Raven was one of the first American Gods, possibly the first. Try to wrap your head around the idea that human beings sailed into the North American continent led by a God long before the white archeologists admit people were here. Then thousands of years later, that same God led a new bunch of humans across a land bridge through Alaska. A God we're about to eat dinner with.

  "In every Pantheon, some Gods came earlier than others. The only gods mentioned before Raven are personifications of creation.

  "He was considered an equal or even leader of all the Gods of the Americas that followed. He is the human creation myth for the Americas! He brought humans here and put men and women together. He was the God who interacted with humanity. He taught humans how to fish, build houses, and find fresh water. He genuinely cares about his humans, Dru. As far as he’s concerned, Coyote played cruel practical jokes on one small group of his children in the Southwest, while he shepherded all of humanity for half the world."

  She put her hand on my chest to stop me as she said, "Mythology tends to simplify things. Raven is called the Trickster of the Haida people now, but his name – the one he wouldn't tell you? – is Nang Kilslas, which means The-One-Whose-Voice-is-Obeyed.”

  It dawned on me why he liked the name Sam. Bitter irony.

  She continued, “Can you comprehend that, mijo? All these hippy white people walking around America incorrectly calling Coyote the Trickster God of the First Nations People – as if they were all one nation? There were more nations of people on these continents at one time than all of Europe. Do you get that?

  "And Raven wasn't like Europe's Odin, or Zeus, or Osiris, some leader of a single peoples pantheon. He was the God who brought the ancestors of every living Indigenous person in the Americas across from Eurasia. He is known in all except a handful of Indigenous pantheons.

  "Yeah, it’s professional rivalry, but it’s a lot more. Being the Trickster doesn’t mean that’s all he is. He’s much more complex than that. But he’ll absolutely kill you if you call him Coyote, Dru. Please don’t.”

  “Consider me warned and I will not use the “C” word around him.” She relaxed a little and dropped her hand to her side as she turned back towards the front door and started walking again.

  After a few steps, I asked, “Speaking of ‘C’ words, do you know anything about the Celtic Gods?” She looked over and nodded a negative. “According to the mythology, our Gods had all sorts of jobs that often overlapped each other too. Our scariest,” I said while swallowing hard, “was Morrigan. She often appeared as a crow, and when she flew over the battlefield, she was the chooser of the slain. Related to that, but different, she was an agent of chaos. Not the chaos of the battlefield, but chaos in general. But here’s the thing, she was also intimately related to childbirth and childhood. In legends, she loved to help women give birth, give boons to the babies, and," I smiled bitterly, "often looked out for the kids.”

  Martina looked at me. “So you do understand what I’m saying. Sam is complex. Assuming he’s nothing but a practical joker would be a fatal mistake.” We passed the Medical facility and kept walking.

  “Yeah. Morrigan was often referred to as the Triple Goddess, and the trick was figuring out why she was around – what aspect she was when you faced her. At least that’s what the legends say. And honestly, most of the Gods had all sorts of overlap.”

  As we approached the house that looked the most like an actual house, Martina asked me, “What would happen if those Gods came back, Dru? Based on the tales, what do you think would happen if they were real?”

  Stolen story; please report.

  I didn't have to think. “It’d be a nightmare,” I replied. “A fucking nightmare.”

  “We have to stop Broadhead.”

  “We will.”

  We walked into the house and Martina led me to a large dining room with a table that could comfortably fit ten to twelve people. At the head of the table was Sam. On his left, Frank was closest to Sam, with Sarah seated beside him. There was an empty place after her, and Elijah was in the last chair on that side. On the other side, seated across from Elijah, was Damon. He glowered at me but said nothing.

  Sam was sitting there looking happy to see us. I was pretty sure he wasn’t, but I can play the game too.

  “Hi, Sam!” I called out. “Where should I sit?”

  He gestured to his right at the three open seats on that side. I headed over that way and Martina, after glancing at Elijah and the open seat next to him, squared her shoulders and walked with me to the other side of the table. I pulled up the chair at Sam’s right hand, and Martina sat down beside me.

  Looking across the table at Frank and Sarah, I smiled and winked at them both, saying, “Hi guys, how was your visit to the hospital?”

  “Fine,” replied Frank. I was not fooled. His eyes were haunted by the loss of his limbs, and there was going to be a long road ahead to recovery. I was afraid of what a three hundred year old warrior might do if he couldn't come to grips with the new reality.

  Sarah said, “They took care of his wounds and started the process for prosthetics already. After the…wounds…heal, they will create a socket for his thigh and Mr. Sam says they have some good above-the-knee prosthetics my Frank will be able to try. The other leg will get a similar treatment for the foot.” She looked over to Sam and said somewhat coolly, “Thank you again for stepping up and making good on your responsibilities for my husband's injuries.”

  Sam’s mask slipped a tiny bit, but he continued to smile and said, “It's no problem. Frank got hurt working with me, and I take care of my friends.

  “Good,” I replied.

  Servers came in from a door off to the side of the room bearing small bowls of mussels that smelled like the brine of the Sea with a hint of spices and butter. Others came in with bottles of white wine and proceeded to pour us all a glass. I took a sip. It was an amazing Riesling and it paired with what were the most delicious mussels I’ve ever had.

  Conversation ceased as we dug into the appetizer and devoured the mussels. As we finished, Sam looked up at Frank and said, “Frank, you and Sarah are free to stay here as long as you need, and I assume that will be a few months at least. I want to make sure you get the proper prosthetics and physical therapy. Also, you are safe here."

  “I appreciate that,” he answered, “but how can we be sure that Broadhead won’t find us yet again?

  He sighed, “Because this is my land, and I said so. In this space, I am the very law of reality, Frank.”

  “You’re reality?” I interrupted.

  Sam's head whipped to me and his eyes bored into mine. It’s impossible to explain, but the room seemed to waver like a glitch in an old VHS tape, and his voice became a Voice - capital V, bold letters - and I was rooted to my chair and abruptly terrified beyond the capacity for words. “Yes, Drustan Seta, I. Am. Fucking. Reality.

  And every one of us believed it. Hell, we didn’t believe it, we knew it. Fuck me, "One-who’s-voice-is-obeyed" is too right. I suddenly understood that Sam could destroy us all utterly and there wasn’t a Godsdamned thing I could do to stop him. A shiver went down my spine. I was returned to that impotent feeling of powerlessness from my childhood. My throat constricted and my heartbeat started to soar. The painkillers stopped working and my entire body began to ache with that bone-deep pain I live with every day.

  While I was rooted to my seat and unable to move my eyes off of Sam’s, Frank gasped out through clenched teeth, “Then why the hell do you need us?”

  Sam slowly broke eye contact with me and turned lazily to Frank and Sarah, saying, “Because Broadhead isn’t here. They are elsewhere. My power is almost comically limited in the modern world. Away from my people and my locus, I’m much reduced. When I’m out there I am not much stronger than Damon or Elijah. Or you, Dru.”

  Time seemed to start up again. “Locus?” Sarah asked.

  “I’m not going to try to explain an eternity of Gods and seventy-eight thousand years of American history over dinner. Know that there are a few places in the Americas where I…belong. Places that have kept me alive, alone, and the only survivor of all the Gods on this plane of reality. So I have some believers, some priests, and a small, but zealous religious following, all of which gives me enough ‘oomph’ to work some of my mojo.” He smiled at me out the side of his mouth as he glanced over and winked.

  Damon spoke up from the bottom of the table, “My wife Iáxuhke, Elijah, and I are Shaman – Shamans – and all the people you see with us are our people. Raven has God-touched the three of us," he said, gesturing to himself and Elijah, "though Iáxuhke had much power even before. We use this power to help the world survive the destruction wrought by the European man and the industries of the wealthy,” He glanced at Sam guiltily and went on, “and despite our God’s loneliness, we follow his guidance and keep the other Gods locked away from us all.”

  I couldn’t help myself. I tried to change the subject. “Eco-terrorists?”

  Before Damon could respond, Elijah said, “Yes.” and there was a short, pregnant pause at the table.

  Right on cue, the servers came in bearing plates of Salmon fillets, baked baby potatoes, and asparagus. As the plates were set, I said, “I notice we’re not being served some special Haida menu.”

  Sam smiled as Damon replied, “We are not all Haida. We are Indigenous and we follow our God. My wife is actually Apsáalooke and was a strong two-spirit healer before I was lucky enough to meet her. But, there’s nothing more Haida than salmon. Without Raven, there wouldn’t be any.”

  “And I love asparagus.” finished Sam.

  “Well, I love potatoes, so I guess this is the perfect meal,” I said. Martina snorted and hid her laugh behind her hand.

  “Well, I’m sure you do, Dru. Stereotype much, my Irish war dog?”

  I pointed my fork at him, growling, “I’m not your Dog, Sam. I’m theirs.” I said, pointing the fork one at a time to Frank, Sarah, and finally Martina. “And you’ll be wise to remember that.”

  “I didn’t mean you were mine…” He began

  “...No, you meant to insult him.” finished Sarah.

  Sam immediately held up his hands saying, “Sorry, sorry. No. I apologize. I’m not trying to insult him, I'm trying to see how he reacts.” He looked over at me with narrowed eyes. “You, Drustan Seta, are a giant secret wrapped up in trauma-informed behavior. You’re a mess, but you’re also far more than you’re telling. I honestly think I might know more about you than you do.”

  I slowly put down my fork and wished for my gun, but the knife at my right hand might have to do. “You want to expand on that?” I said quietly.

  He looked over at Frank, “No, I'll keep my thoughts to myself right now, but how about you, Frank? Want to tell him about all those talks we had when I tried to get you to listen to reason and bring Dru in on this mission?”

  Every one of us turned to look at Frank and none of us except Frank knew what he was talking about. Sarah put her hand on Frank's arm and asked “What does he mean?”

  Frank glared at Sam for a solid three breaths before replying, “Sam and I both think there’s more to Dru than simply God-touched. Look,” he said glancing around the table at everyone but me, “Dru’s talent is amazing, but plenty of god-touched descendants still exist in the world, and working in the Nightmare Squad means I've met a bunch of them. That’s not what is strange, though your talents seem extremely consistent - far stronger than most."

  He shrugged and set his cutlery down as he explained, "Most knacks are watered down over the generations as the descendants get farther and farther away from the original family member who was God-touched. Their knacks are small things that barely tip the balance in favor of the touched in some way, but Dru…Dru has an absurdly strong and useful knack. It's almost unfair to the enemy to have him in the field with a gun. I mean, he never misses! ”

  Sarah said, "That's not true. I've seen him miss."

  "No, you haven't." Frank said with confidence, "You've seen him not kill. If he aims, he hits the target, but that doesn't mean they die. In a combat situation, most bullets never even hit their intended target. All of Dru's shots hit. They might hit an arm, or a non-lethal area, or body armor, but they hit."

  "But in the house, he shot an entire magazine from your AR and only one bullet hit."

  My body did that prefight relaxation, but I knew whatever I did, as long as Sam was here, I was as good as dead if I fought. I was trapped. I started breathing heavier, and the pains in my body started to get worse in my joints, but I think only Martina noticed. She seemed to move closer to me in her chair.

  "I wasn't aiming, Sarah, I was using the gun for suppressing fire," I admitted.

  Frank looked over at me, saying, “Dru, what’s weird is you. Your consistency is damn near mythical, yet…You do realize that Sam can get anything he wants via the computer, right? He looked you up, after the incident, of course. You received an all-new identity the day you became a member of the Nightmare Squad, like Extras do, yet you’re not an Extra. Why?”

  I looked around the table. Both Sarah and Martina were looking at me with trust and confusion on their faces. I took strength from that and said, “I needed a new life. Nothing that happened before was worth remembering or holding onto.” I could see the comprehension and agreement from Sarah, my sister of the Secret.

  “Alright,” said Sam, “But why did they agree? Also, I can look anywhere, Dru, and I did. Your previous existence is gone. Completely. They don’t do that for humans. Hell, they don’t do that for Extras. There’s always a past, and a complete scrub is impossible in this day and age. Impossible. So where were you before the nightmare squad?

  “The US Army,” I replied truthfully.

  “How?” Sam retorted. ”Frank told me what unit you claimed to come from. You only appeared in their rosters one day before you were transferred, the rest of their rosters are all intact, the files and paperwork of the other soldiers are easily obtained, and if it had been scrubbed I’d know. You didn't exist until twenty-four hours before you were sent to the Squad.”

  “Yeah, that was a lie.”

  “What did you do?” Frank asked.

  I looked around one more time. I was judging the distance to Sam's neck. Maybe I could cut his throat before he could say anything that caused my head to explode and then take out Elijah before anyone else could stop me. Ha. Wishful thinking. Violence wouldn’t save me here. But I started shivering, pain locking up some of my muscles now, ready to flee or fight or…

  Martina put her hand on mine and said, “Dru, you don’t have to say a thing. I don’t care who you were. What you are now is all I care about.”

  “But what am I?” I whispered. “Do you know? Does anyone?” I said, looking around the table.

  “You’re my family,” she answered. I turned to explain to her for the last time that she couldn’t be my family, but she put her finger to my lips to stop me and stared into my eyes. The look on her face was such pure acceptance it rocked me back onto my ass in that chair, and for the first time, I believed her. She sincerely meant I was worthy of being in her family. It hurt so bad I had to turn away. I looked over the table to Frank and Sarah.

  Sarah’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and she nodded her head the tiniest bit in the affirmative and I realized she was casting her vote once and for all for family. Again. She was not interested in judging my past, she just wanted to help me. All at once, something inside me broke, snapped under the pressure of decades of abuse and repression, and I made up my mind. I was going to tell a part of my story for the first time since my childhood.

  I turned to Sam as tears formed in my own eyes and said, “I didn’t transfer. I died. If you go back about two weeks before my transfer you'll see a death from an IED. That was me.”

  Down at the end of the table, Elijah snorted, “Nice trick.”

  Sam and Frank sat with serious looks on their faces, waiting for more explanation.

  Damon unironically muttered, “Jesus Christ.” in disbelief and I couldn’t resist.

  Laughing through a hitch in my voice, I replied, “Not Quite.”

  Frank was not amused. It looked like this conversation was as hard on him as it was on me, and I realized I didn’t want Frank to feel that way. I don’t know why now, of all times, I believed I had some people willing to choose me to be part of their family, and most importantly, why I actually believed I might be able to keep it despite the truth, but I did. I knew and believed with every fiber of my being that blood had nothing to do with family, but to choose, to say “You, Dru. You are worthy of being my brother." That’s the most powerful event in a human life. To find your family in every way that matters is profound. It can save souls. Not mine. I knew it was far too late for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t help the man who would be my brother.

  Frank dropped his head like he was too tired to hold it up any longer and stared at his plate as he asked, “Dru, what the hell are you, and where did you come from?”

  After a short pause while I wiped tears from my eyes and gathered the strength to do the hardest thing I’ve ever attempted, I said, “I’ll tell you. I’ll tell you some of the truth. About my adult life.” I looked over at Sarah. “My childhood may be relevant to my personality, but it’s not necessary to answer what you’re actually asking. Fair?” Sarah, of course, was already nodding.

  Frank said, “Absolutely, Dru.”

  So I continued, “But after I tell you about my life, about what I am, we make a plan to take out Broadhead, and we execute that plan. Deal? Please, after I tell you this you might not want to be my family. You really might not. But please don’t say so. Work with me to take down Broadhead. All the rest can wait until after that. ”

  Sam, eyes glinting, immediately said, “Deal.” but I wasn’t looking at him, or Elijah, or Damon. They were irrelevant. This was potential family business. I was looking at Frank.

  Frank stared back. “Deal, brother.” He said.

  I looked over at Sarah. “Deal, brother.”

  Finally, I turned to Martina. “Deal, hermano.”

  “Elijah and Damon can go. They don’t need to know, and I’m not telling them.” I looked at Sam, “Understand? This stays between the five of us.”

  “I love secrets, Dru. Deal.”

  Damon complained, “But we haven’t had dessert yet.”

  Sam called out, “Bring in dessert! Make two of them to go!”

  Dessert came in shortly thereafter and Elijah took his dessert and his brother out of the room.

  As we five sat down to eat a chocolate torte, Frank said, “Tell us everything, brother, we’re listening.”

  So I did.

  “I, personally, am God-touched. Two of them, in fact. And before you ask; yes, it was a long time ago.”