The dart grew larger. It was a silver-tipped missile, a point of deadly focus hurtling straight towards him. Kev stared at it, his mind a blank, white static, a deer caught in the headlights. Time seemed to stretch and slow, the whirring sound of the dart's flight the only thing in the universe.
He closed his eyes tight. It was the only thing he had time to do. He felt the soft, fluttering brush of the flower petals against his cheek and, an instant later, heard the sharp hiss of the dart sailing right above his head.
The room was silent. He peeked one eye open. Talon must have been really close to make the plant shake like that. He reached up, his fingers trembling slightly, and felt the stem of the plant still tucked behind his ear. He looked around. Horns had a massive hand clamped firmly on Fang's shoulder, holding the wolf down in his chair. Fang's fur was bristled, and he was staring at Kev, his amber eyes wide with a mixture of terror and relief.
"TALON!" Kev yelped, a bit too loudly, before coughing and remembering where he was and who was at the table. "I know you're a bit anxious to demonstrate your skills," he said, his voice a shaky imitation of a joke, "but no more warm-up throws." He nervously laughed and looked over at Baphomet, who was sitting with his fingers steepled, his expression unreadable.
"Shhh," Kev could hear Horns saying to Fang. "It's okay. It's okay."
"I need to tell the story first," Kev said, after swallowing down some of the 'oh-my-god-I-nearly-died' saliva that had been filling his mouth. "Like I said, it's a human folktale. About a man named... William."
Kev didn't know if beastmen used surnames, and he was okay with that.
"William lived in a place where the rulers asked their people to bow to them." Kev struggled to remember the story. "And one of the rulers even said that people had to bow to his clothing. Isn't that crazy?"
Baphomet finally looked away from Fang. Kev did not feel more confident with the Mafia Don's eyes on him, but he had foolishly decided to save Talon from a fight. Maybe Talon could have taken that cobra guy, Sterling... he didn't seem as scary as Bruno...
"So one day, he went into town, and there in the middle of the street was the ruler's... clothes." Kev frowned, picturing a random pile of clothes in the street. He pushed on. "And can you guess what William did?"
Kev looked around the table but quickly regretted trying to add audience participation to the story. His gaze drifted up to Talon. The eagle was throwing another dart.
Kev's legs felt like they wanted to jump as the dart barreled towards him, but he was so glad he was too slow to react. The stalk behind his ear once again rustled. Talon must be really close to hitting something on it. As he took a deep breath in and looked down at the table trying to compose himself quickly...
"TALON!" Kev shouted, before coughing and clearing his throat as he saw Baphomet looking between him and the eager eagle. "I'M NOT DONE WITH THE STORY YET!" Kev attempted to keep himself composed, but it was difficult.
After closing his eyes and meditating for a good moment, Kev once again swallowed his 'life-flashed-before-my-eyes' spit and continued with the story. "William did not bow to the clothes," he said. "He thought it was a ridiculous thing, to have to acknowledge someone just because of their clothes."
Kev's brain was quite scrambled from the adrenaline, and he knew this was not exactly right. He desperately tried to get the story back on track.
"Then, when the ruler found out that William didn't bow, he got angry and arrested William. The ruler forced William to prove he was a good archer and shoot an apple off his own son's head."
The diners, who had been mostly ignoring the strange human's demonstration, now glanced over. The mention of violence had finally caught their attention. Horns's grip on Fang's shoulder tightened, and Baphomet's steepled fingers lowered slightly as he leaned forward. Unfortunately, Kev could not enjoy the modicum of attention, as he saw Talon loose another dart at him.
As the dart whizzed over his head, he felt the same sort of adrenaline rush as an amusement park ride, for the third time. He really should talk to Talon about timing. The stalk once again rustled.
"So, William brought two arrows to the test," Kev said, after blinking a few times. He wasn't even mad at Talon now, just confused as to why the eagle would think that Kev was ready. "And when he got there, he saw his son with an apple on his head."
Kev looked around and grinned, trying to salvage the moment. "It was an amazing feat of accuracy for William to shoot the apple off his own son's head. So amazing that William was let go, and... well, I guess the rest doesn't matter. I can tell you just want to see Talon's skill."
Kev nervously laughed. His story was a bit of a bomb.
"So," Kev said, standing a bit straighter, "Talon is amazing. His accuracy with darts is so good that I would trust him to shoot an apple off my head. And to prove this, now that his warm-up throws are done, haha, he can demonstrate by knocking this flower plant thing from behind my ear."
"I am out of darts," Talon rasped across the long dining table. "I only had three."
Kev wanted to groan very loudly. He really, really wanted to. But instead, he took the flower stalk from behind his ear, laid it on the table before him, and quietly turned to sit down.
Warlock clapped lightly, the sound slow and deliberate in the quiet room. "Bravo," he said, a wide, mocking grin on his face.
Kev was mortified as he walked around the table again to get to his seat. The room was quiet, other than the sound of Fang trying to convince Horns that he was okay now and that the moose could let him go.
He sat down next to Fang and, without a word, began rubbing the wolfman's arm, the simple, repetitive motion a desperate attempt to ground himself after the absolute failure of his performance.
"What was that?" Fang whisper-growled.
Kev felt a bit sick. "I thought it was going to be a lot different than that. The story is famous. I just wish I had an apple..."
"No," Fang growled quietly, and gestured with his head to the wall behind where Kev had been standing. "How long have you known Talon could throw?"
Kev tried to focus on the wall, but it was too far away. It looked like there might be darts in it, but it could also be shadows from the firelight and plants. Was Fang trying to tell him that Talon had succeeded?
"Your folk story," Bapho said, pulling Kev from his ruminations. "Why did William have two arrows?"
"Huh?" Kev asked, before remembering his own half-told story. "Oh, the arrows. Right. Well, William said the second arrow was for the ruler, if his first arrow missed and killed his son... I don't think the ruler liked that part very much."
"It was a beautiful story," the goat-man said. "The bond between a father and a son is so very... important." The goat-man paused to smile before he turned a bit more to assess Talon, who was once again taking his seat. "Your guard is quite skilled. It was a wonderful show of nerve... for both of you."
Kev sat up a bit straighter. Had he not just single-handedly made Club Fang a laughing stock? Did they... like it?
However," Baphomet continued, "now I would feel rude not to show my hand as well. After all, you are my son now, and... you should be able to look up to your father and ask when you need help."
"Help?" Fang snorted. "What kind of help could I need... Pops?"
Baphomet stood from his chair slowly, the bell jingling on his neck. He walked to the wall where Kev had been standing and, with practiced ease, pulled the three darts out of the drywall.
"Darts," Baphomet chuckled, holding them in his palm. "A bar sport. A pastime."
He then, with a delicate pinch, pulled a small, white flower that had been perfectly pinned to the wall by one of the darts and placed it on the table.
"If one was found with darts," Baphomet said airily, "one could claim they are going to a tournament, or even a friend's house to play."
He pulled the second flower off the second dart.
"And... they are not blades," the goat-man said flatly. "They are just a... child's game."
Baphomet removed the third and final flower from the third dart. He scooped up the three blossoms in one hand and the three darts in the other, before presenting both open hands to Fang.
"Which do you choose, son?" the goat said, looking down. "What is more valuable to you?"
Fang grabbed the darts. "These can be used again." He tested the point of one against his thumb, the sharp metal glinting in the lantern light, and then glanced over at Talon.
Baphomet nodded. "But that is their weakness. They need to be retrieved."
"I can just buy more," Fang growled. "Everything leaves a trace."
"Correct," Baphomet said. "But not everything needs to be easy to trace. Sterling, are you up for a little show?"
Sterling spit into the nearly full cuspidor. "Yes, sir. I'm rip-roarin'."
Baphomet gestured to the table. "Please finish your drinks if you are still thirsty."
Kev looked between Fang and Talon and just pushed his nearly empty glass forward. He had drunk enough tonight. It seemed everyone else had finished their drinks long ago.
The goat-man sat back down and grinned. "Sterling. The horse."
Sterling, who had been slouched in his chair, slowly sat up, a deliberate, almost unnerving movement. He looked up, his reptilian eyes locking onto Dale's glass across the table. He then leaned his head back slightly and spit. A small, brown glob of viscous fluid arced high in the air. It flew with a startling precision across the long table and landed with a barely audible plip in the glass in front of Dale. The glass shook lightly, and a bit of brown fluid now swirled at the bottom.
Dale looked down at his glass and then stared at Sterling, his usual easygoing expression gone, replaced by an intense, unblinking focus.
Kev swallowed. A spitting cobra, right... that did seem like it would be dangerous in a 'natural weapons only' cage fight. And this sharp-shooter could hook-shot a cup from across the massive table...
"My glass," Baphomet said.
Sterling yawned dramatically, a slow, theatrical stretching of his jaw, and he put a hand to his chin. As he tilted his head, Kev saw a thin, almost invisible stream of liquid shoot out and hit the glass in front of Baphomet, right next to the cobra. It was a subtle, lightning-fast movement. Kev was stunned; if he hadn't been paying attention, he would have never noticed it.
"The tiger's," Baphomet said.
The cobra leaned back and then, with a light, almost imperceptible jerk of his head, spit again. His mouth was only just so open, and the action was so fast it was a blur.
Kev heard the small, liquidy plop of the spit hitting Rex's drink as the tiger hissed from his post by the door. "What the hell?! I was still drinking that!" He stepped forward and nearly dropped the half-full glass on the table.
Baphomet, ignoring the tiger's complaints, gave a few short claps. "Sterling. Brilliant as always."
"Aw shucks, sir," Sterling said. "I ain't done nothin' fancy."
"My son," Baphomet turned to the wolf, who had been watching the demonstration with great interest. "To remove an issue from a distance is valuable. It is very generous of you to provide such a guard to your partner."