Page 6 of Horn in My Side
He sighed and laid a palm against the wet tile, moving his head side to side so the needles of water from the shower head massaged his scalp.Normally, this helped him relax, but his mind was occupied with everything he needed to do and accomplish in the next few days.
He finished and dried himself off with a towel then wrapped it round his waist before stepping out of the bathroom.As he sorted through the clothes in his duffle bag, searching for something to wear that was somewhat clean, he grumbled to himself.
I didn’t even want to come here.
Not that he was ungrateful, but he frankly didn’t care about this inheritance from some long-lost uncle.Mal had been determined to just ignore the official-looking letter his mother had forwarded to him and let everything go to the state.After all, he’d hardly known Vrig, and it didn’t seem right he should inherit his assets.
His mother and stepfather, however, had other ideas.
“He was your family,” Morlak, his mother had said.“Your last blood relative on your father’s side.”
“And there’s nothing more important than family,” his stepfather, Karak, had added.“Go and settle his affairs.If anything, it is your duty to give him a proper send-off.”
Mal could not argue with that last statement.Tradition dictated that every orc who passed away had their ashes spread over the Victory Fields in Ghalad-Dur, the orc homeland, so they could be reunited with their ancestors.And so, Mal made plans to travel to Dewberry Falls, the quiet, northern California town his uncle had been living in for the last twenty years.
Thankfully, Mal had just finished his last job, building a mountain-cabin getaway for some rich warlock.He enjoyedbeing a contractor, liked the challenge and the variety of jobs and locations on which he worked.Before the cabin, he was in the Caribbean overseeing work on a brand-new luxury resort.They had needed his expertise in the construction of the special suites for magical and oversized creatures.And before that he’d been in Macao, renovating a few of their private gaming rooms and outfitting them with special anti-cheating spells.
All his jobs were challenging, paid well, and more importantly, he got in, got the job done, and got out.
Mal mostly worked alone, though he did hire local hands to do the grunt work or special tasks he couldn’t do himself.Still, he more or less went through his day without having to interact with other people.
This business with his uncle, of course, was an unexpected and unwelcome intrusion into his plans.He didn’t see much of Vrig growing up, except for a few Conquest Day dinners and perhaps one or two of his father’s birthdays and, of course, his dad’s funeral when Mal was ten years old.After that, Vrig had sent a birthday card every now and then, and Mal hadn’t really thought of him much in the last twenty years.His death hadn’t been unexpected, as he had to have been at least ninety years old.
This was an inconvenience, but he would treat this like any other job: get in, get it done, get out.So, as soon as he’d arrived, he’d gone straight to Foxbird Funeral Homes to retrieve his uncle’s ashes.The director had assured him that Vrig had been given the proper orc funeral rites, but that had entailed his pyre be lit at midnight three days after his death and allowed to burn until morning, so they couldn’t wait for his relatives to be found.But, at least now that Mal had the ashes—which had been placed in a white urn that currently sat next to theTV—he would be able to perform his duties as Vrig’s heir and spread them over his final resting place back in the homelands.
After dropping the urn back in this motel room, his next stopwas supposed to be the local probate lawyer.However, the pet store his uncle owned was on the way to the law office so he decided to stop by and at least have a look.He didn’t know what to expect, certainly not the tiny human balancing precariously on top of that Orc-SHAviolation of a makeshift ladder, trying to hammer at the sign.Thankfully, he’d gotten to her in time, catching her before she landed on the concrete pavement.
The whole thing had been ridiculous.Shehad been ridiculous, and as soon as he felt her soft body in his arms and her flowery perfume tickling his nose, he knew he had to let go of her.It didn’t help that she was a pretty little thing with her large, doe-like brown eyes, deep, smooth golden skin, and that rope of long, lustrous black hair that fell down her shoulders.He wondered what it would be like, unbound and spread out all over—
He groaned.He shouldn’t think of her that way.
Yes, he definitely should not have held her so close or for so long, but it wasn’t as if he could let her fall and break her leg, no matter how foolish her actions were.
And then those small, perfect fingers dug into his chest, sending a twinge all the way down to his nether regions.
It was the tiniest twinge.
A minuscule one, really.
And it had been forgotten the moment she smacked him in the face.
Served him right, he supposed.
Mal should have been insulted that she had insinuated that he was there for a snack, but he couldn’t blame her—his kind had not always been so discriminating in their eating practices.She had looked horrified and chastised when she’d found out who he was, which had not been his intention at all.He had thought the administrator had informed Vrig’s manager that he had arrived in town, but apparently she didn’t even have a clue that Mal existed.
Of course, he hadn’t meant to insult her back by insinuating she was skimming off the top when he asked about the books, but rather that managing a retail outlet with a physical location in general was a hassle, at least from what he’d learned from the business classes his parents had encouraged him to take before he set off on his own.He’d been trying to gauge if his assessment of the business was correct, though that wouldn’t have had any bearing on his decision to close the shop and sell the building.
It was too bad, though, because the inside of the store had been well-constructed and planned—the expansion spell made use of the existing space, the handcrafted wooden shelves were sturdy, and the pens and tanks holding the various creatures were crafted with care and ingenuity.But then again, he wasn’t surprised—the orcs of the Urduk Horde were builders, after all.
Part of Mal didn’t want all that hard work torn down.It had probably taken Vrig a year or two to plan and build everything, plus months to work on the spells.But the fastest way to put this all behind him would be to shut down the shop, dispose of the inventory, and then get the building in selling condition.The land was worth a lot according to the lawyer he’d met, but Mal didn’t really care much about the money.Sure, it would make a good nest egg, but he had about thirty years until retirement, and he still enjoyed his work.
Speaking of work ...
He abandoned his search for clean clothes and, still wearing the towel around his waist, lumbered over to the small desk and table in the corner of the room, sat down, and opened his laptop, clicking on the mailbox icon on the desktop.As emails began to pour in, he scanned the new items, disappointment filling him when the one message he’d been waiting for didn’t appear.
He tapped his clawed hands on the table as he hit the envelope icon again to check for new messages, just in case, but sadly nothing new appeared in the inbox.As if to torture himselffurther, he opened up the starred email he had pinned to the top of his mailbox from five weeks ago and re-read it once more.
From: [email protected]
