My First Collar, Part 2

My Stories

The story continues as Dinlas puts his plan in motion to get his floundering bounty hunter business off the ground.

By Wayne Davids/originally published July 4, 2019

The girls pranced and whimpered when I got back and unlocked the door to the warehouse.  Both jumped to greet me, nearly knocking me over. They weighed seventy kilo each, and together they could knock anyone over.

“Okay, okay, ladies.  I know.”

When I gave Hate a kiss on the head, Jealousy would push her out of the way, and when I tried to pat Jealousy, Hate would nip at her ears.  I just started laughing because it felt good to have a plan, and it was nice to have these two. The only two ever happy to see me.

“Stop it, both of you.  We have business to deal with as soon as possible.”  Both stopped and cocked their heads. They wanted to hear more.  I filled them in on the situation and the plan I hatched to capture Eddie Pastorini.

At the end I added, “I’m going out to get an idea of his place.  I need both of you looking your absolute best tonight. Take a nap and then wash down.  You both understand?” Jealousy turned and licked Hate across the top of her head. They understood.  I petted and kissed each on the muzzle again then turned my attention to other matters.

My desk has one drawer which I keep locked. I opened it and pulled out the gift Uncle Heph ended up sending me several days ago.  I guess he felt bad that he short with me in our first meeting, because one of his apprentices showed up two days ago with a beautiful pair of chrome M1911 style .45 caliber pistols.  The slides and lower were embossed with intricate scrollwork. He even customized the grips. Each had an image of the wolves on it: one with a calligraphy Hate and the other Jealousy.  I slipped on the harness with the pistols, grabbed a few extra magazines, and then threw my suit coat on over it all, to avoid annoying questions.

Sal told me the name of the club Eddie owned.  Cadillac Lounge, not even an original name for the place.  Honestly, it looked like a flea-market from the street.  Maybe I could wrangle a future favor from some other local club owner if I knocked out their competition. I watched the place for a few hours in the early afternoon.  Eddie arrived around two p.m. and according to Sal he would normally stay until early morning. I watched for several more hours until I decided I’d seen enough.  He had a couple guys on the door, several on the roof and another ten that went in but hadn’t come out. 

When I got back to the warehouse, it was dark outside.  Inside, the girls were both sitting on the desk, waiting for me.  They looked gorgeous in their slinky black dresses.

<Record scratch.  Music stops>

I know what you’re thinking, so let me explain.  You don’t get two supernatural wolves from Loki, The Norse God of Mischief, that don’t have a few special abilities.  My two, Hate and Jealousy, can transform into human form when needed. Both were raven-haired beauties. Hate, a deep Mediterranean bronze, with an amazing smile.  She looked as if she had stepped right off the island of Crete. Jealousy, darker, had narrow features, and high cheekbones, like an ancient Roman princess. You mortals speak of werewolves; this is not the case.  These are wolves who morph into human shape when needed. They cannot speak and they always think and sense as a wolf. One other thing I might as well tell you now. For short bursts, they can move faster than the human eye.

So, as I was saying, they looked marvelous in their little black dresses.  Wolf or woman, each of them always wore a thin leather collar. We left the warehouse, locked arms, and walked down to his club. They turned heads all the way as they slinked along, one hanging on each of my arms.  I must admit, I did enjoy the attention in my black suit, vest, and shined leather wingtips.

When we reached the club, a doorman standing outside held his hand up.

“Club doesn’t open until 10:00 p.m.,” he grunted.

“I need to see Eddie Pastorini,” I replied, “for business.”

The enormous man at the door never turned to look at us, but replied, “Mr. Pastorini don’t see anybody for business without an appointment.  You got an appointment?”

“No, I don’t.  But I’m going to see him anyway.”

The doorman turned and looked at us now.  It was clear he was irritated. He raised his hand to speak into a communicator on his wrist.  Hate mistook the action for him attempting to strike me. One second, she was standing next to me, hanging on my arm with her head on my shoulder.  The next, she had him pinned against the wall with both hands and her mouth at his throat. Her canines pierced the skin, nothing more than a superficial wound.  I called her back before she did any real damage.

“Hate, Hate, darling, not here,” I said as she let out a low, guttural growl.

The man flailed against her, but she held him firm.  She took her mouth from his throat and then curled her upper lip, close to his face.  Her prominent canines, visible only when she smiled, were dripping with blood.

“Jesus, get off of me,” he yelled. “Look at her god-damned teeth.  What the hell? Who are you people?”

Hate released the man as I pulled out a linen handkerchief and dabbed his blood from her chin, throat and exposed cleavage.  She licked her own mouth clean until her teeth were pearly white again. As the doorman watched, she then nuzzled my ear and put her head back down on my shoulder.

“Now,” I repeated as I folded and tucked the bloody linen into my inside breast pocket, “I would like to see Eddie Pastorini, and this is the last time I am going to ask.”

My First Collar, Part 1

My Stories

After returning to Gaea from the Underworld Dinlas quickly discovers that making money is harder than it looks. Having set up his business he quickly realizes there is more to it then just calling yourself CEO, but never doing any work. Fortunately the smart-mouthed cigarette smoking God of Hate and Jealousy is cunning enough to figure out how to work both sides of the street.

By Wayne Davids/originally published June 18, 2019

The first thing I learned is that being mortal is harder than it looks.  I gotta admit, these brainless mortal meat-sacks really do endure a load of shite.  Grandfather Zeus agreed to me setting up shop outside the Olympus Complex, but that meant I pay rent.  Me, pay rent to some mortal.  In addition I bought a computer, apparently everything in the world is now done by computer and I needed to learn how to use one.  It is nice that I have been able to watch and absorb a lot of the current and past media on it.  Since that helps me blend in better when I move amongst mortals.

Business has been slow.  I go to the courthouse every day and talk to the bail bondsmen, but nobody is interested in doing business with me.  No one wants to deal until I make a capture, but I can’t make a capture until someone is willing to deal. No money coming in means no money to pay for office equipment or furniture, so the building is still empty.  I’ve been sleeping on the floor in the office with Jealousy and Hate. They go out every night after midnight to hunt for dinner. Rabbits, stray cats, the other night it may have been a homeless person. They smelled awful in the morning and I had to give both a bath. All in all though, I’ve had worse accommodations.  At least it isn’t Tartarus. There, I was lying on the bare ground with Titans moaning and sniveling all around me.

On a positive note, I discovered coffee.  Puts quite a buzz in the brain first thing in the morning.  I’ve been going to a place down the street, Sal’s Delicatessen, and getting coffee in the morning.  When I haven’t eaten for a day or two, then I indulge and get a thing called a bagel with a schmear.  Still not sure what the schmear is, but it’s good.

Today, I’m sitting and sipping my coffee while trying to come up with a grand plan to get this thing working, when I see two guys come in and start talking to Sal behind the counter.  I can’t hear what they are saying, but it’s clear that Sal is unhappy. I keep watching and after a few minutes, Sal goes in the back and comes back with an envelope. He gives one of the guys the envelope and they leave.  I hear them say as they go out that they’ll be back tomorrow. I finish my coffee and as I’m headed out, I stop at the counter to talk to Sal.

“Hey, what was that all about?”

Sal glanced over at me and answered, “Nothing.  Thanks for coming in, now mind your own business.”

“What?” I said. “That looked serious.  What was that about?”

I guess Sal must’ve warmed up to me being there every morning, because looked around and said, “It’s a protection racket. They make all us shop owners pay them each week for protection.”

“Protection from what?”

“Protection from them coming and tearing the place up.  Or worse, busting both my kneecaps.”

“Who does this?”

Sal looked around again before whispering, “A guy named Eddie Pastorini.”

“Pastorini?” I said aloud. “Sounds Roman to me.”

Sal shook his head. “No, he’s Italian.  He’s a wanted felon.”

Now I was listening.  “Wanted? Like by the police?  Is there a reward for him?”

“Sure, a big one.  Only thing is no one has ever lived to collect it.”

“So, if this Eddie guy was gone, would that make your life easier?”

Sal shrugged. “Maybe, but probably not.  Most likely someone else will just take his place and charge even more.  I mean, there are people running scams like this all over the city.”

That’s when it struck me like a ton of arch-stones.  A plan for exactly how to make the money I need. The idea started in the back of my brain and raced forward, like a cool breeze on the neck, that made me shiver.  I felt startled by the suddenness of it.

“Sal,” I said as I turned back to address him, “what would you and the other business owners think if I said I could get rid your problem?  Specifically, I will get rid of your Eddie problem in exchange for half what he is charging. Then I will make sure you’re protected after that. For me, if I need any of your services, well, I get them for free. Is that a deal?”

Sal looked thoughtful.  “Well, yeah, I suppose. I think I can speak for everyone when I say we would take that deal.  I mean, do we have a choice? But are you gonna take on Eddie by yourself? He’s got fifty guys working for him.”

“Don’t worry about me.  I’ve got backup. Just tell your friends to get their money together.  I also need a list of all the businesses, so I know who everyone is and what everyone does.”

“Okay, you got it.  Good luck. Just so you know, if they carve you into little pieces, I’m gonna swear I never heard of you.”

I nodded and waved my hand as I headed out the door, then fumbled to light a cigarette as I trotted across the street toward the warehouse. 

This was going to be a good night. I needed to get everything ready, especially my girls.

Dinlas – God of Hate and Jealousy

My Stories

Dinlas, The God of Hate & Jealousy is a character created in June 2019 by Wayne Davids. The character was featured by an online magazine he voluntarily wrote for at the time, but no longer does. Wayne’s Dinlas is based off the minor Greek deity, Dinlas God of Chaos & Hatred who he researched fully. Since little is known or recorded about Dinlas, Wayne created and personalized the new character as he saw fit. Specifically changing Dinlas’ title to separate him from the deity of Greek mythology and create a new, unique identity.

Complete with twin M1911 pistols, mirrored sunglasses, ever-present facial stubble, an impeccable black suit, a blazing hatred for his mother Aphrodite, and a pair of companion wolves that follow him everywhere, this modern Dinlas is a unique figure far more complex than the one of mythology. Brash and arrogant, yet tragically insecure at times, Dinlas is a unique and layered character that ultimately struggles to overcome personal difficulties that have plagued him his entire life.

I am starting this blog to re-publish some of the stories of his exploits, as well as introduce new ones now and again that tell of his further exploits. I hope you will enjoy reading and re-reading some of his previously published adventures, as well as new stories of his ongoing exploits.

With no further delay, I give you the previous, and ongoing, story of Dinlas, God of Hate & Jealousy; as he returns to present life and begins his new life among the mortals.

NOT SO NEW OFFICE

-Wayne Davids/originally published June 16, 2019

I had a lot to think about, and the next few weeks would be busy for me. Plans like mine don’t just come together on their own, they take plenty of forethought.

I just set down my issue of Janie’s Weapon Systems and ground my cigarette in the ashtray when there was a knock at the door. The girls whined and perked their ears up so I gave them each a quick pat on the head and shushed them. I didn’t think anyone even knew I had rented this warehouse, other than Zeus. I approached the door.

“Who is it?” I asked through the heavy wooden door.

“It’s Hephaestus. Open up.”

I opened the door a crack and there he stood, Hephaestus; just as big and ugly as I remembered him. I opened the door wider and gestured for him to come inside.

“Uncle Heph, good to see you. I was going to call you for some weapons once I got situated.

The giant blacksmith shouldered past me into my office in the corner of the warehouse.

“Cut the crap. I wanna know what you’re up to, and it better not involve revenge on Ares or Aphrodite. In fact, it better…” He trailed off as he saw my two black wolves get up from behind the desk and move toward him.

“Wha-what are those?” he demanded as they curled their lips and eyeballed him.

“Oh, those are my two girls.”

“But why do you have them?”

“Well, they were a gift. I’ve been reading up on current events and culture here among the mortals, and they’re called support animals.”

“Support animals?” he looked at me and frowned. “I don’t think that’s what they are.”

“Sure they are,” I told him. “They’ll rip the throat out of anyone that tries to mess with me. I totally support that.”

Hephaestus shook his head. “Still pretty sure that’s not what support animals are. Who would give you such a gift?”

“Loki.”

“Loki? The Norse God of Mischief?”

“Yeah. You know, Odin is really curious about how this whole plan of us all coming back is gonna work out. In fact, a lot of the other chief deities are following this thing pretty closely. Odin All-Father, Amun-Ra, Marduk of Babylon, Amaterasu of the Shinto, I mean the list goes on and on. I’m guessing if this thing works out and we start racking up followers, it’s going to become a regular pantheological mosh-pit down here.”

After a moment of him looking at me, I gestured to the two wolves and said, “Anyway, this is Hate and Jealousy.”

Hephaestus shook his head and said, “It’s not why I came out here.  Why aren’t you at the Olympus Headquarters like everyone else?”

“Because Grandfather agreed to let me rent this place. I’m going to be dealing with criminals much of the time.”

“Really? You are?”

“Yeah. I’m now officially what’s called a bounty hunter. When people don’t show up for criminal trial or skip out on parole, then I go out and track them down. Then they get sent back to prison. The technical term is bail enforcement officer.”

“I’ve never heard of such a thing.”

“I hadn’t either, but I saw a television show about this guy and his family who were bounty hunters. Once I realized I didn’t have to grow my hair long and call everyone ‘brah’, I warmed up to the idea. Anyway, Zeus agreed to give me a little leeway since he didn’t want unsavorys mucking up his new marble floors in the complex.”

“So this has nothing to do with your parents?”

I flared up at that. “They aren’t my parents, you know that. The closest thing I have to a parent is Hades. He was nice enough to let me sleep on the ground in Tartarus, if anyone could sleep with the Titans being tortured for eternity in that pit.”

I watched Hephaestus. He hesitated for a moment, then turned to leave. He placed his hand on the doorknob and without turning back said, “I’ve always felt sorry for you, Dinlas, but I will stand with my brother and my wife if ever I need to choose sides.”  Before I could answer he opened the door, stepped out, and closed it behind himself.

I went back and sat down at the desk. It and the chair were the only two pieces of furniture in the entire building. But that would change soon enough.

I thought about Uncle Heph. He strayed close to the truth. I didn’t want to see Ares or Aphrodite, but there was another Olympian I would prefer to avoid as well. It simply tore at my heart every time I saw her. Staying clear of the bunch of them would be best for me. Zeus knew that. The girls whimpered and nuzzled me, so I scratched behind their ears. After a minute, I leaned back in the chair, tapped out a cigarette, lit it, and inhaled deeply. I had a lot to think about, and the next few weeks would be busy for me. Plans like mine don’t just come together on their own, they take plenty of forethought.