The bubbling and crackling was starting to get a little embarrassing. The sound was pretty loud and made the whole iHop smell like pancakes and spit. Andrew and I shared a booth across from Robi as he tackled his sixth stack of buttermilk pancakes with coconut syrup. His food-choked ramblings sounded like a cross between a Coney Island boardwalk vendor and a Dutch pimp. English was in there somewhere. I was sure the demon that borrowed his body somewhere in the Veneer left behind a good amount of extra matter not of this plane. You donʻt play Motel 6 to a Demon without picking up a little sumpin sumpin, if you get my drift. Did I mention the part about this little culinary event being two steps to the right of embarrassing? The eating wouldnʻt be so bad if it werenʻt for the giggling. The run-on chortles were pretty good indications that this wasnʻt the good-ole buddy that Iʻd come to know and love. Ok, for starters…he was throwing off some major heat. He already opted to dine sans clothing. Oh, Andrew and I tried to get him to wear a few threads. We sort of succeeded with his agreeing to put on an oversized pair of board shorts, but he made it quite clear, “IʻM TOO FUCKIN HOT!”
So there we sat. Robi was drinking quarts of water straight from the pitcher and palming handfuls of pancake in a steady bear-in-yer-guts fashion. The small plate of butter pats in front of him was shaking slightly from the heat. The individually wrapped pats were swelling and sanpping like little party poppers. Butter was splattering everything – us included – in a seven-foot radius. I gave up on my omelet after his first three bites. Andrewʻs head bobbed between his barely-picked-at french toast and keeping a sharp analytical eye on his partner. Trouble was brewing. I’m just glad I got Jesse safely back to the house resting with a re-souled Dakota snuggling at his side. Andrew put a protective seal on the place even Merlin would have struggled with. Besides, the team of Covenant operatives swarming around our street would keep all attention to a minimum. But Robi?
Andrew and I agreed that whatever occupied Robi in the Veneer was powerful enough to not only heal his physical form, but smart enough to leave some kind of connection in tact. What we refused to admit was the harsh possibility that the Robi that sat across from us in a batter-storm of pancake was not Robi at all. There was a strong and frightening possibility that the Robi at that iHop table was a new entity formed of whatever was left behind of our friend. I was certain of it, but chose to keep my mouth shut until Andrew was ready to talk about it. I mean, for him…this was going to be a monumental decision. To live with this new version of his lover and life partner, or slay him. Either way, I would stand by his decision. Not that either choice would be a walk in the park.
I looked an Andrew as Robi killed off his sixth plate of cakes. The syrup dripped off his mouth like it does when a vampireʻs making a mess.
“Hey! Why you guys not sverisczik frkūm?! Come on! EAT SOMETHING! (gulp) I LIKE MY MEN CHUBBY!!”
He babbled something about fornication, then his rambling switched to something more akin to ranting drunken elvish. I nudged Andrew under the table.
“So. Robi. You still hungry?”
“UMTH!”
His grunt was pretty affirmative. He wanted plate number seven.
“WAITRESTH! PANCKSTHVENTH NOW PWEEZE!!!”
I could see the poor girl hiding behind a pillar by the kitchen door. She’d been crying for the last twenty minutes. The other waitresses offered her no support, going about their own business. And then…the security guards.
A gaggle of three local boys in white shirts and tactical belts stood outside the mall entrance to the restaurant. From their body language I could tell they were at a loss for ideas. How do you approach a half-naked, syrup-covered, gluttonous lunatic with a demon complex? Andrew spotted them too. I could tell he was a little worried about all the attention.
“Robi. Why donʻt you let me order you a few dozen pancakes to go? Brettʻs worried about Jesse and we should head home.”
“NO!”
Oh shit.
“Yeah. Hey, Robi…letʻs get the hell outta here. Besides, I got a six of cold ones in the fridge. What better to wash down all those carbs?”
“NO!!!!”
The foil on the butter pats was starting to melt and the plastic water pitcher was collapsing into slag. It was getting hot in there. Andrew got up and stood next to Robi.
“Come on, babe. I want to leave. Now.”
Robi abruptly stopped shoveling and spat an obscene wad of mashed pancake phlegm onto the floor. The guards started puffing up and swaggered over to our table.
“Excuse me. You folks are gonna have to leave.”
Andrew moved to intervene before they got to our table.
“We were just leav…”
Robi stood up and moved with wicked speed in front of his partner.
“Actually occifers…I was thinking of ordering another plate of pancakes. ITʻS ALL-YOU-CAN-EAT TODAY YOU KNOW!?!”
His board shorts were sticking out in front, betraying an obvious erection. Oh damn. That was usually a sign of trouble. The lead guard – an Asian boy in his early twenties stepped up to Robi.
“Sir. You need to leave, now.”
Robiʻs hand was on the guardʻs throat in nanosecond. I heard a snap as the guardʻs head fell back at an ugly angle. His body dropped to the ground like a badly made rag doll. One of the other guards pissed himself as his partner started run. Robi stared down the frightened young man as he moved in closely. He was Polynesian with dark brown skin, but the blood poured drained from his face as Robi whispered something into his ear. Robi smiled and coked ihs head to the side as the poor kid started to cry.
Andrew was chanting something under his breath. I scanned the mall around the entrance expecting to see reinforcements. I could hear sirens out in the parking lot, so I knew I had to take control of the situation; Ryan Robidart was out for trouble.
The boy started walking away as Robi started laughing. As he reached the corner by the escalator, he smacked the fire alarm with his tonfa stick. The alarms screamed in a high-pitched wail as the sprinkler system kicked in. The spray of water rained down on the crowds of people running toward the exits. But the water was behaving badly and Iʻm sure Robi had a lot to do with it. He had to. Because everyone knows that water is not supposed to burst into flames.
