Read Matt Archer: Legend for Free Online

Jorge—so it would
be more logical for the monsters to chase other shamans who could create
something powerful to stop them. But a physicist? What can they do except bore
people at parties?”
    I wracked my brain for a smart answer to Will’s question and
came up totally blank. There had to be more to this story. Maybe I should tell
Mamie about it—she always figured stuff out. And as luck with have it, she was
home from college for the weekend.
     
    * * *
     
    I dragged myself through the garage late on Saturday
afternoon. Will honked from the road, then took off for home in his BMW. He
refused to be seen in my used Honda, so we rode in the Beemer as a regular
course of action when we went anywhere together.
    Now that my ops weren’t secret, at least to my family, Mom
had stopped meeting us at the airport unless one of us came back injured. A few
bruises and sprains didn’t count—she reserved the chauffer service for broken
bones and serious internal injuries. It was weird how quickly my job had
switched from “Oh, my God, you’re going to get my baby killed!” to “Be
careful, sweetheart. See you in a week.”
    I shouldn’t complain, though. Mom hadn’t made me quit the
team, even after I almost bought it during our last op in Afghanistan. True,
Uncle Mike and I didn’t tell her everything, especially not about me being
poisoned, but she took my injured knee in stride. Well, sort of…which was why I
remained stuck in school rather than hanging with Uncle Mike and Aunt Julie at
the Pentagon.
    After dumping my duffel bag on the washing machine, I
followed the smell of pot roast into the kitchen. My stomach felt like a pocket
that had been turned out for loose change; the first order of business was
food. I had the cover off the crock pot, fork poised to grab a big hunk of
meat, when I was very rudely interrupted.
    “Stop right there, mister.”
    Mom stood in the doorway, hands on her hips.
    I lowered the fork and said, “What, no ‘welcome home?’”
    She chuckled and came to give me a hug. Mom wasn’t a short
woman, but the top of her head was even with my collarbone and her short,
shaggy brown hair tickled my nose. “Welcome home. Dinner’s almost ready, but
Mamie and I actually want to eat, so I’m not about to turn you loose with an
entire pot roast. We’d end up foraging for scraps.”
    Mom let me go, but before I could make excuses for my
attempted food-burglary, my sister flew into the kitchen with a shriek. Mamie hugged
me so hard, I nearly fell over, taking her with me.
    “I missed you, too, sis,” I said, trying to draw a breath.
“Try not to suffocate me, okay?”
    She let me go, her dark blue eyes shining—Archer blue, the
same color as mine and our brother’s…a color we all inherited from our Dad.
Wherever he was. I couldn’t decide if it was easier or harder knowing that he
was a spy for the CIA rather than a deadbeat, which was the story Mom told us
for years before finally revealing the truth last fall. Either way, he left
right after I was born—at Mom’s request—and I didn’t know him at all.
    “Anything new?” Mamie asked, quivering with excitement and
derailing my bitter thought-train.
    “Yes, Sherlock, a few things,” I said. “But it might be nice
for you and Mom to worry over my scrapes and bruises and ask how I am before
worming details out of me or nagging me about stealing pot roast.”
    I was teasing, but my mother and sister took smothering me
with concern very seriously. They dragged me into the living room, deposited me
on the recliner in front of the fireplace and made a fuss over my injuries.
Honestly, it was a game to all of us, considering I’d come home pretty much
unscathed this time, but I knew if anything really serious happened to me, Mom
would go all mother-dragon on Uncle Mike for enlisting me in the Army (even if
it was the knife’s fault). And my sister? Mamie—whose brilliance and tenacity
terrified nearly every man in my unit—would make