Hero's Curse Read Free Page A

you don’t since we’ve never met before, but Victor, we’re going to be great friends. Last night you destroyed a minion of darkness. You’ve joined the Great Game. I’ve been assigned as your guardian.”
    I smiled back, “Seriously, you’ve got the wrong guy. I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
    “Victor, you really think random chance brought you here? You were destined to come to Salt Lake City. You need to learn your purpose.”
    I let my real emotions show. “Look man, I’m trying to be nice but if you don’t leave me alone, I’m calling security.”
    The pretty guy looked even more amused. “One of the best parts of my job, I get to talk like a character in a bad made-for-TV movie. We can do this easy or we can do this hard. It’s no skin off my teeth. You’re the only one in danger. Here’s my card. Contact me when you’re ready.” He turned around and walked off before I could say anything.
    I looked at the card. It just had the letter “B” and a phone number. I never stay in the town where I’ve made withdrawals. I didn’t know what was going on, but it wasn’t anything I wanted to be a part of. I had no interest in finding out who B was and how he knew my real name. I finished dressing and went straight out to my truck.
    There are two kinds of criminal. The first has poor impulse control, seeks excitement, and spends a lot of time in prison. The second is methodical, avoids unnecessary risks, and rarely gets caught. Years back when I was stupid, I was the first kind of criminal. I’m still paying for the mistakes I made back then. I try my best now to be the second kind.
    I admit my curiosity was piqued. What had I killed? Why did B use an initial instead of a name? Why did he use the word guardian? What in the hell was the Great Game? These were all good questions. I was sure years from now, I would mull them over in my mind, in a cozy place far away from here. As I have gotten older, I’ve learned that an intriguing mystery is often better than an unpleasant answer. I would be happy to never learn the answers to these questions.
    I had planned on going to a bank. I decided it would be better to just get out of town. I could get a safe deposit box in another town. I sprayed a whole can of air freshener into the SUV and made sure to switch the plates back out before I returned the rental.
    I was on I-215 when I saw the exit to get to I-15 South to Las Vegas. It was weird. I knew what I wanted to do; my body wouldn’t respond. I couldn’t make my hand turn the wheel to the right. I kept going straight on I-215.
    I was able to get off at the next exit and head back to the I-15 interchange. Again, I couldn’t make the turn to go south. I knew what I wanted to do, I couldn’t do it. What the HELL WAS GOING ON?

Chapter 2: The Beating

    I tried going north. I couldn’t force myself to drive past Bountiful. The Salt Lake City Airport was the furthest west I could go. I couldn’t enter Parley’s Canyon from I-80. Instead of heading east like I wanted, I found myself steering my truck up north onto Foothill. I pulled off at the first gas station. I stared at my smart phone and thought about calling B. I decided instead to find a VCR player. This technology is now so obsolete, I doubted if I could find a new one at a big-box retailer; I used my phone to find the closest thrift store.
    At Deseret Industries, a Mormon Church run thrift store, I found a portable VCR/TV. My truck has a DC to AC inverter; I was able to plug it in and play the VHS tape from the ATM right there in the parking lot. The VHS tape had been used over and over again to record countless hours of surveillance. It was scratchy and grainy but I was still recognizable; Mr. Fangs wasn’t. He looked like gray smoke. It wasn’t the fuzziness of a poorly focused lens; he literally looked like a cloud of smoke.
    Between jobs, I have plenty of time to keep up with all the latest gadgets. For obvious reasons, I have a