Page 26 of Arresting the Warlord

“You’re such a jackass.” There was a flash of blackness as Jake teleported us. Presto! We were in a small dining room.

Zarek and General Jones were already seated at a table for four.

Keeping a tight grip on my right hand, Jake led me over to the table, pulled a chair back and seated me. A warlord with manners. Who knew?

“Wine?” Zarek asked.

“No, thank you. Navajo shamans don’t drink,” I said automatically, then winced. I had lived as a Navajo for so long, their customs had become mine.

Zarek cocked an amused eyebrow. “Iced tea?”

“Tea’s good.” To my surprise the waiter was an elf.

“He’s a Farin, not an elf,”Jake advised mentally.

“He has pointy ears and long white hair. That makes him an elf,”I shot back as the elf set my glass of iced tea on the table. “Thank you.”

“It is my pleasure and you may call me Halfdan.”

I smiled at him. “Thank you, Halfdan.”

“Halfdan is also a warrior and bodyguard,”Jake added.

“Zarek needs a bodyguard?”

“No, but it keeps Detja, his mate, happy.”

“Smart man,”I said. Halfdan placed a plate with cheese enchiladas, rice, and beans in front of me. “Wow. Mexican food.”

“It’s your favorite,” Jake stated as Halfdan served him a huge, hunk of bleeding meat and what looked like fried worms.

I took a bite of the enchiladas and moaned. “My compliments to the chef.”

“It came out of a food replicator,” Jake responded.

“Huh?” I poked at my beans. Fake food?

Jake snorted.“Does it taste like fake food?”

“Quit eavesdropping on my thoughts,”I snapped.

“Nah, it’s too entertaining.”

Zarek interjected, “I want you to teach Jake how to become a shaman.”

“I don’t know if I can.” One look at the implacable resolve in Zarek’s eyes and quickly added, “But I’ll try.”

“You will do more than try,” Zarek replied.

“Yes, sir.” I stuffed a piece of enchilada in my mouth. As long as my father was on this ship, I’d do whatever Zarek wanted and he knew it.

General Jones busily cut his meat into small pieces. “What do you know of your birth father?”

“Not much. I was four when we were forced to flee Italy. I have vague memories of him giving me piggyback rides and taking me to the circus. He was gone a lot for his job.”

“What kind of job?” Zarek asked.

“Mama never said.”

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