The Talisman War Box Set

Chapter 16

Dakota tilted his head to one side. “You were her lover?” he asked with no pretenses. The way the man spoke, as though he knew Terrell’s grandmother very intimately, seemed to suggest only one logical conclusion.

He laughed and slapped his knee in delight. “Good lord, you got a tongue on you, boy. I wish. Let me tell you, Maria was the most beautiful girl for miles back in the day. I woulda sold the Devil my left arm just to take her out. But she had none of me, that’s for sure. But I don’t blame her. She coulda done much better, and she did.” After a heavy pause, as he seemed to remember days long past, he continued. “Nahh, but Maria and I, a bunch of us, we all got similar interests, you understand? One way or another. I see you do, too.”

Dakota instinctively rested his hand on top of the two talismans hanging from his neck. Though only one was visible, they both hung at the same length.

“Now that I got a good look, those were hers, weren’t they?” His voice became just a bit quieter. As he waited for a reply, the guy’s mouth moved as though to adjust dentures or clear imaginary particles of food from his teeth.

“Inheritance,” Terrell supplied with suspicion entering his tone. The two necklaces he wore, both borrowed, were quickly hidden away in his shirt.

Following suit, Dakota added, “Gift.”

That single word forced the elderly man’s entire attention onto Dakota. He leaned forward as far as he could and jutted his chin out in his direction. “Oh, I know. Ain’t nothin’ wrong with my ears. You two are sweet on each other like I never seen. Lord, yes, you are.”

Dragging his gaze away from the man, Dakota instead chose to keep his eyes on Terrell. Being found out like this—both about their romance and the talismans—couldn’t have been easy on him. But he seemed to be hiding it well, feigning disinterest. Nevertheless, his head must’ve been filled to the brim with questions. Who was this guy? How did he know his grandmother? Did he have talismans, too?

“But none of that’s my business,” the man continued. “You keep those rocks safe. That concerns me.” He put a few dollar bills on the counter and stood up stiffly. Before leaving, he turned and leaned back in, close to Terrell’s ear. “Yesterday evening, a white kid in an SUV came tearin’ through here like a bat outta Hell. He ran the red light and damn near killed a whole family in a minivan. I couldn’t be sure, but it looked like he was bleeding somethin’ fierce. I think he was aimin’ for Route Fifteen. And I’d bet my pension he only got about as far as that hospital in Williamsport.” He straightened his back and laughed. Making eye contact with Dakota, he added, “Looks like you did a number on him.”

Without so much as giving them his name, the old man left the diner and disappeared into the town outside. Terrell shot a glance at Dakota. They ate in silence for several minutes before either of them spoke again. “I didn’t know my Nana had friends.”

“He acted like they were colleagues,” Dakota pointed out. “Have you ever heard about any kind of cooperative talisman groups? I mean, he said they were friends, but it sounded more like they were members of a group or something.”

He shrugged. “Could be. Talismans pop up pretty much everywhere in history. Religions, royalty, nobility—I think they helped build whole societies. It makes sense that people would form groups around that common interest.”

“I wonder who else they knew,” he muttered, picking through the remnants of his food before finally giving up. He didn’t enjoy it, but at least his stomach felt full.

Nodding, Terrell asked, “Do you wanna have a look through my research? A fresh set of eyes might catch something I missed. And some of my Nana’s stuff is still boxed up at the ranch. If her old pals are still alive, there could be info on them. Maybe they can help us.”

The request came so sweetly and with such trepidation. He wanted Dakota to go over his notes. And not only to derive new conclusions from it. Terrell was immensely proud of his research. It meant a lot to him. How could Dakota say no to that?

Besides, a new point of view might help. “Sure. I’d love to, Terrell.”

He smiled brightly. “Seriously?”

“Yeah, of course.” He waved for their server to bring the check. “I don’t want to see that prick hurt you or your family. Anything I can do to stop him, I will.”

They paid for their meal and headed for the country store. Basic necessities, food, snacks, etc. were purchased quickly. Dakota flirted with Terrell as they returned to the motorcycle. Having fulfilled all of their plans for the day, the duo drove back to the ranch.

* * * *

He spent the better part of the afternoon poring over the notebooks. Terrell wrote in tiny but clear handwriting, all caps, sometimes with two lines of text for every predesignated line on the page.

Drawings of potential talismans were done in pen first and then colored with pencils. It looked like he used the bottom of a cup or can to make perfect circles. For each one, Terrell indicated where he thought they might be found. There were boxes with the words “Name:” and “Purpose:” written neatly inside. Only information he knew for a fact went there. Some of the others, however, had possible uses written in pencil underneath. “Volcanoes? Hurricanes? Something destructive…” he wrote for one. Then, lower: “Dangerous.”

He wrote beautifully. Both in the style and look of his handwriting and the careful “voice” of the notes. It made Dakota like him more. Good writers provided his only comfort while dealing with his dying mother. And some of the passages in the notebooks proved as compelling as paragraphs from many of the classic stories Dakota loved.

“Origin: Northern Africa. Depicted in the elaborate—and possibly unused—tomb of Sennefer, the Egyptian noble and mayor of Thebes, circa the 1400s B.C. It appears he shared this and possibly two other talismans with his wife Sentnay and his daughter Muttuy. This one was gifted to him when he died, possibly for use in the afterlife. Though Sennefer may not be buried in the drawing’s location, the talisman, mistaken by scholars as part of his funeral rites, was buried with him. To find and substantiate his remains is to find the talisman. A possible location is the jar meant for his heart.”

Dakota found himself completely engrossed in the stories. Admittedly, his fascination probably wasn’t that useful, but he couldn’t help it. He imagined how much time, energy, and work Terrell put into this, and it astounded him. Taking in the Egyptian story, Dakota slowly paged over to a new entry: the one for his defensive talisman. The first part was written ages ago, while the ink at the bottom appeared brand new.

“Origin: Western Africa? My Nana’s talisman, 1/10. Not sure why she wanted me to have this one or what I’m supposed to do with it. I don’t understand why she didn’t tell us more. Doesn’t she trust us? And how is it that she has exactly 10 talismans—one for each of us? Important Note: maybe she had more, and she simply hid them away somewhere.”

Dakota blinked with weary eyes. The frustration in Terrell’s writing felt tangible. “My brothers and sister have talismans, too. They will never know. They should, but they won’t. They won’t know my research. They won’t know any of it. I’m not sure what we should do with them. Nana, you knew about all of this! Surely, you knew. Am I supposed to have four? Or share them with Lanie?”

The new text was darker and a little less orderly, and it read more like a diary entry than research notes. “It protects against other talismans. I can’t believe it. I gave it to Dakota, and it saved him (again). It saved us. I don’t know if you saw this coming, Nana, or what you would think about me giving it away, but I’m so glad he’s part of this.”

Dakota heard footsteps on the stairs, and he quickly closed the notebook and opened a different one. Did Terrell really mean for him to read that? It seemed so personal.

As Terrell slowly made his way toward Dakota’s room, he began reading, mid-passage. “…but it’s all connected. Periods of violence in history mark a clear jump in instances of strange events, interventions by so-called ‘Gods,’ and additions to mythology. Even if perhaps 99% of it can be derived from wild imaginations or stories meant to corral the populace, 1% represents an astronomical number of Talisman-Related Events (TREs), and all should be investigated as possible avenues. Even if write-offs accounted for 99.9% of identifiable research points, that would still mean thousands of unexplained events per spike.”

While the other notebook read like a collection of personal fascinations, this one could’ve come from a scientific magazine.

“They mark a pattern across history. Individuals gather talismans and become powerful. When the power is centered in just a handful of people, war becomes inevitable. It is only when these individuals die, either of natural causes or more likely in the clashing, and some or all of the knowledge is lost—including the talismans themselves in many cases—that periods of peace occur. But these are always temporary. Recorded knowledge, even in pre-internet ages, allows for relatively easy reeducating. Knowledge becomes power, and further periods of aggression follow notable rises in TREs.”

He sat back and stared at the page without reading more. Ridiculous, he thought. The amount of careful deduction and hours spent on these notes painted a picture of devotion, if not obsession. The logical part of Terrell’s brain presented itself here. And the other book? A look inside the emotional, stream-of-consciousness side of him. He saw himself as some sort of pioneer of talisman science or a great historian paving the way for a new field of study. A deeper look into art history, archaeology, or anthropology. Perhaps all three combined.

Dakota saw something incredibly impressive and almost manic about the endeavor. It looked like pages were written in a single sitting, until his hand began to ache. He must’ve went through whole packs of blue pens and quite a few pencils, too.

He imagined Terrell sitting at a desk at college, in the library, or in his room at the ranch. Just scribbling away. Occasionally stopping to rub at his leg or to stand and walk around for a few minutes to bring it back into working order. In Dakota’s thoughts, Terrell skipped meals, ignored former love interests, and pulled all-nighters. And he did it while keeping up a normal-seeming life as a college student. Receiving good grades, going to parties and club events, and generally seeming pretty normal.

When he finally appeared at the door, balancing a large bowl of microwaved popcorn with his right arm while leaning heavily on his cane with the other, Dakota flashed him a smile. He moved into the room at a slower pace than usual. The day’s ride into town and heavy walking did a number on him. He set the bowl down in the one free space on the table that wasn’t occupied by notebooks.

“How’s it going?” Terrell asked tentatively. “I figured you could use a snack. You like popcorn, right? I probably should’ve asked.”

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “That’s really sweet of you. And yeah, I’m pretty famished.”

Terrell bowed his head slightly in acknowledgment. “Eddie wants to go check out that hospital. I don’t think we’ll get far without a name, but we should probably try. If we can stop him now, then we can all sleep easier. Do you wanna come along? Lanie thinks you should stay and help protect the farm, but you could ID the guy. And, you know, I’d love to have you with us.”

Dakota grinned at the bashfulness of his request, but he shook his head. “He’s pretty hard to miss with the description you guys have, and your cousin’s right. I should probably be here. But—” He reached inside his shirt and took up the defensive talisman in one hand. Removing the necklace for the first time since receiving it as a gift, Dakota let it dangle from his fingers as he motioned for Terrell to take it. “You should have this.”

“You don’t want it?” Terrell looked like he could cry. The amount of instantaneous hurt that flashed across his face was at once too much for Dakota to bear and still incredibly endearing.

Yet, it wasn’t a rejection of the gift at all. “What? No, of course I still want it. It’s like the most powerful talisman out there. And I love wearing it. Trust me. But the bad guy isn’t coming here, at least not for a really long time. If you’re going to him, I want you to be safe, okay? He’ll torch you if you don’t have something to stop him.” Dakota let plenty of emotion seep into his voice. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but it wasn’t faked. “I just want you to borrow it for the trip, all right? Please?”

Terrell still looked like he might start bawling, but this time out of joy. With hesitation still in plain view on his face and everything about him, he eventually reached for the necklace and took it from Dakota. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I dunno if I’d let you go without it, actually,” he confessed. It was true. The thought of Terrell chasing after their sadistic foe without some sort of shield felt terrifying. Even with Eddie at his side. He really, really didn’t want Terrell to get killed. “I’d throw a tantrum or something. Or I’d insist on going with you. But I think this is better. I can help out here and keep reading through your notes.” As an afterthought, “And you can bring that back to me when you don’t need it anymore.”

Terrell didn’t succeed in forming a reply right away. It took several attempts, and in the end, he uttered a simple “Thank you.”

Dakota smiled up at him and waved him closer. Jumping out of his seat, he wrapped his arms around Terrell’s neck and gave him a big kiss. They hadn’t really touched each other all that much today, despite getting so intimate last night. He wanted a repeat. Badly. But he would have to make do with this small amount of closeness for now.

Not a bad substitute. He tasted wonderful. Sweetness from some kind of soda or juice with the hint of something savory. And his lips always felt so soft, like kissing silk. When Terrell’s hands drifted to the base of Dakota’s spine, his skin tingled.

They let go of each other with obvious reluctance on both sides. “Be careful, all right?”

“Don’t worry. I’m not lookin’ to get flambéed either.”

Dakota gave him one final kiss, this time with a little more tongue. Terrell stepped away moments later and inched in the direction of the door. “We might have to stay the night, but I’ll try to get back.”

“Text me?”

He nodded emphatically. “You got it!”

With that, he made a hasty retreat and disappeared around the corner. Dakota sat back down and tried to think about something other than having s*x. Exasperated, he shoved a handful of popcorn into his mouth and turned back to the notebooks.