Crack the Sky: Preternatural Chronicles Book 8 (The Preternatural Chronicles)

by Hunter Blain

  Locke paused for a moment and slightly turned his head in the direction of the nurses’ station before holding up his hand, waving once in acknowledgment.

  Gradually making his way around the square loop of the hospital floor, Locke stopped at an open doorway where hushed whispers drifted from.

  Upon hearing the rolling of Locke’s IV stand come to a halt, Meli and Ben looked from one another to the one-eyed wizard standing just inside their room.

  “Hi, guys,” Locke greeted as warmly as he could. It was difficult given how tired he was, both mentally and physically.

  The siblings continued to stare, awaiting the reason for his visit. Ben was covered with multiple bandages that appeared freshly changed. He was in a seated position, with his hospital gown covering his lap. At seeing Locke, Ben slipped his arms through the holes and brought the material over his torso, effectively hiding most of his bandages from sight.

  “I don’t believe we’ve had proper introductions. My name is Nathanial Locke, and I’m friends with…well…pretty much everyone you met in Germany,” Locke said as he stepped forward, extending his hand.

  Ben continued to regard Locke’s face while Meli looked down at the wizard’s hand with a slight expression of disgust. Following her gaze, Locke saw the IV line taped to his hand had some blood pushing into the clear tube.

  Pulling his hand back with a little chuckle of embarrassment, Locke instead provided a double thumbs-up. All that was missing was a leather jacket and an elongated greeting of “Ayyy.”

  Meli and Ben continued to glare at the one-eyed man.

  “Anyway,” Locke quickly added, dropping his hands and pretending to smooth out the wrinkles on his hospital gown. “I’m willing to bet you two had a lot to do with the success we had in Germany. Am I right?”

  Meli modestly shrugged while Ben gave the barest semblance of a nod.

  “As I thought.” Locke nodded in confirmation of his notion and crossed his arms, careful not to pull on the IV in his hand.

  While alternating his eye between the siblings, Locke used his peripheral vision to inspect them. Meli’s clothing was old and worn, while Ben was covered by a gown that matched Locke’s own. The wizard guessed Ben had lost his clothing when he shifted. One of the drawbacks of being a were-creature.

  “May I ask if you have a place to stay?” Locke carefully inquired, knowing he was tiptoeing on a line he didn’t wish to cross.

  “What’s it to ya?” Ben asked defensively with a scowl etched across his face.

  “Ben,” Meli soothed, placing a gentle hand on the crook of his arm. Ben visibly relaxed at her touch.

  Turning to Locke, Meli admitted, “We…we’ve never been welcomed anywhere. At least not for long.”

  “Because you’re weres?” Locke asked, trying to get clarification on the subject before carrying on with his notion.

  “Shifters. Yes,” Meli corrected.

  “Shifters,” Locke acknowledged.

  “We don’t belong anywhere, especially with the humans. And our kind is almost gone,” Ben added as he stared hard into Locke’s eye. “We’ve lived in the shadows trying not to get caught by those Nazi fuckheads.”

  “From what I could piece together, and from what others have told me, it appears Hell has been gathering shifters to experiment on. I think we figured out why last night,” Locke said solemnly. “The million-dollar question is: when will Lucifer use what he’s learned on his vast army?”

  “I don’t understand what you mean?” Meli said softly.

  Locke opened his mouth to explain his fears when an authoritative voice interrupted.

  “Apprentice Locke,” Elder Gryff, the Red Cloak, boisterously hailed from halfway down the hall. “A word.”

  The Elder turned and made his way to a conference room in the middle of the square floor plan. Locke held up his index finger to the siblings, suggesting he would be back momentarily, and followed after the short and stout Red Cloak.

  Upon Locke entering and shutting the door behind him, Elder Gryff snapped his fingers, sending out a wave of energy that latched onto the walls of the room. There was a crackle in the air as if the two men were surrounded by hidden speakers whispering a constant stream of white noise.

  “I’m only going to say this once, apprentice. Whatever you think you might know, keep it to yourself. Am I understood?” The glower Elder Gryff demonstrated could wither flowers in an instant.

  Anger arose inside Locke at being so disrespected by a man who clearly had it out for him, but he was able to instantly suppress the emotions at remembering the dance he was a part of. Locke was an apprentice, and the man before him—though a huge asshole—was an Elder of the High Council.

  “Yes, Elder Gryff,” Locke flatly agreed with a bow made to mimic respect. That Locke was six inches taller made the gesture easier to swallow, as if the height difference would always be in Locke’s favor.

  Scowling eyes narrowed further as Elder Gryff pushed a few loose strands of dark hair back in place. It was odd to Locke that this man of repute in front of him had a hairstyle that might be considered fashionable.

  “It is also my understanding that you utilized a higher dimension to defeat your enemies?” Elder Gryff’s face was unreadable. Locke didn’t know if the man was impressed or pissed.

  “Were-pires,” Locke corrected, wanting to rub the fact in the face of the man who had completely disregarded the accurate claims of the existence of such creatures. “And I did use the higher dimension to best the Hell army.”

  “And where, pray tell, did a lowly apprentice such as yourself discover the ability to perform such a rigorous maneuver?” The Red Cloak took a step forward, peering at him with a stern, calculating gaze. Locke recognized them to be the eyes of a predator who had grown accustomed to being at the top of the food chain with no known competition. They were the same eyes Locke had wielded in his former life as Commander Godwin.

  A finger comprised of freezing mist slid up his spine at the reminder of who he had once been. Shame bloomed in his cheeks.

  “Have I upset you, boy?” Elder Gryff inquired with satisfaction lacing his words.

  Locke’s expression turned flat as his mind went still.

  “No, Elder. I am humbled to be able to improve on my imperfections and make myself better than I was yesterday,” Locke admitted honestly, intentionally choosing his words.

  The wind was sucked from Gryff’s bulging sails, and he regained his professional composure by letting his scowling face return to its normal frown.

  “Good,” he said curtly, taking Locke’s meaning to be a reflection of the Elders’ leadership. He continued, “What you do not yet understand is that the crack formed within the fabric of our reality is more dire than you could possibly know. You may have won a battle but could have started a war. That, coupled with the foolish vampire on Mars, may have doomed us all.”

  Locke wavered where he stood like a reed in a gentle breeze, rocked back by the Red Cloak’s words. War was his specialty, and the frustration leaking through his words implied a conflict that wasn’t an assured victory. “And now, Hecate has let the Ether loose, all to save a single child.”

  “What…what do you mean?”

  Michael Gryff—the destroyer of the Council’s enemies and the most right out powerful wizard in existence—pressed a hand on the conference table and leaned some of his weight on it. His other hand absently went up toward his mouth, thick fingertips gliding down the scar that ran from lip to chin.

  “You have much to learn, Locke.” The apprentice took note that his official title hadn’t been used, as if in that moment, Gryff had forgotten to loathe him.

  After a few heartbeats, he straightened his stance and ran his hand down his red cloak with the gold symbol of the Council on the front, as if drawing strength from everything it represented.

  “In the future,” he began with a surprisingly neutral tone, “be more mindful with abilities you do not comprehend.”

  W
ith that, he snapped his fingers again, letting the white noise fade, and steadily walked out of the room.

  Locke remained, stunned by everything that had just transpired.

  Pulling out one of the office chairs, Locke plopped down with a grunt, somewhat careful not to sit on the IV line running from his hand. With his elbows on the mirrored finish of the wooden table, Locke placed his face in his palms and slowly rubbed the skin around his temples.

  Minutes passed as he considered the words and change in behavior of the Elder, feeding an insatiable worry growing inside his chest.

  Mindful, lung-stretching breaths seemed to calm the building storms within Locke, of which there were many. Then he made up his mind that now was the time for recovery and introspection on the last twenty-four hours, not for the possibility of an unknown threat he apparently could do nothing about.

  “Focus on what you can control,” Locke whispered to himself, almost in a mantra. “Focus…on what you can control.”

  A gentle rapping of knuckles on the doorframe brought Locke out of his internal management of emotions and concerns.

  Meli stood in the frame, her right hand holding her left elbow as she stood.

  “Hey,” Locke said, dropping his hands to the table and making himself lean back in his chair to simulate a relaxed position. “Meli, right? Thought I heard someone use that name at some point.”

  “Yeah,” Meli returned.

  “And Ben is your brother?”

  Meli nodded her head in affirmation.

  Locke stared at her, trying to remember where he was in their conversation before Elder Gryff had rattled him.

  As he remembered, Meli burst out with, “Can we stay with you? I heard you have a mansion in Texas that’s safe for people like us.”

  “I, uh…” Locke stumbled, completely taken aback by the question.

  “Forget it,” Meli threw out, sensing Locke’s hesitation and dropping her hands to her thighs before turning to leave.

  “Wait!” Locke called out. “I, ah, actually was going to offer for you two to stay with us. That’s kinda why we built the mansion the way we did.”

  Meli inspected the wizard’s face for any betrayal of his true feelings.

  “I’m about to head there, right after I speak to a few more people. I would like it if you two stayed with us. We could use all the help we can get.”

  “Sweet! I’ll go get Ben ready.” Meli smiled before nodding once, and then turned to quickly walk down the hall toward their room.

  The words of Nurse Isaac came to mind about Elders Tafoya and Scymanky wanting to speak with Locke.

  “Well,” Locke whispered to himself as he stood up with a groan and began making his way around the square loop of the hospital floor toward his room to gather his belongings. “Let’s see what those two have to say.”

  4

  Magni - The Ether

  A sea of onyx comprised of cellophane pushed in on Magni as he floated in the dense Ether. The thought of being submerged at the bottom of the ocean entered the young man’s mind. No light. No sound. Only the skin-crawling sensation of oozing sludge as it pushed and pulled against his body. Magni screamed in alarm—in the way only a drowning man could—until his lungs resembled wet plastic bags hung on a wall by thumbtacks.

  Without fully comprehending the position Magni was in, the automated mechanism of breathing was enacted, causing an eager diaphragm to aggressively pull with the intent of filling deflated lungs with precious oxygen. Much to the pulling muscle’s annoyance, no air filled the pink sacs.

  The portion of Magni’s brain that controlled automatic function such as breathing slammed a fist on a big red button labeled Emergency - Panic! causing a surge of adrenaline to pump through Magni’s galloping heart.

  Wide eyes flicked around a sea of black as the Ether pushed against the exposed orbs.

  Though Magni couldn’t see anything except a wall of darkness, a new ring of nothingness formed around the outside of what he thought was black. His lungs burned with the critical demand to breathe while the Ether began pressing into his nostrils and gaping mouth.

  NO! Magni bellowed inside his own mind as an unseen rush of his will forced a sphere around his entire body, allowing fresh air to enter his quivering lungs. It didn’t occur to Magni that there probably wouldn’t be life-giving oxygen inside of the Ether; then again, the how was currently irrelevant, as he didn’t even understand where he was.

  Only the unnerving sound of his own wheezing breaths filled his ears as expanding lungs dangerously danced on the verge of bursting.

  After his heart had slowed down from a gallop to a steady, forceful march, his aching diaphragm received the signal of All Clear and allowed for a new sound to slide into his ear canals. It reminded him of the slippery sounds horror and sci-fi movies gave to slimy, sliding monsters.

  Shiny, viscous liquid the color of midnight sloshed over itself in a creepy attempt to fill in the gap Magni had created. Little exploratory tendrils danced like solar flares bursting from the surface of the sun or a deep-sea squid reaching through the gloomy darkness toward the lone diver.

  Worry began the process of filling Magni’s mind with doubt while an unknown feeling of control rested reassuring hands on his shoulders. For a reason the young man couldn’t articulate, he allowed the feeling of control to suffocate the worry like a thick blanket over a budding campfire.

  One of the ghost hands upon his shoulders moved down an arm, lifting at the forearm until Magni’s hand was less than a foot from the shiny liquid.

  The tendrils grew from a steady dance to an energetic waltz, as if the reaching hand were magnetized. Curiosity bloomed, providing a dull sense of confidence that translated to Magni willing his sphere to be a few inches smaller in diameter.

  The thin ropes of darkness coalesced into a singular tentacle which seemed to be reaching out as if in greeting. Magni fought the urge to pull back, and instead, allowed the sphere to condense further inward.

  Lifting his palm upward, Magni let the tentacle gingerly explore the interesting intruder.

  The onyx arm felt oddly warm to Magni. His own fingers began gliding over the surface of the manifestation as the two felt one another.

  With a modest plop that reminded Magni of the last drop of water from the faucet falling into a full tub, the arm disconnected from the ocean of darkness to eagerly begin exploring up the young man’s forearm.

  A part of Magni’s mind whispered that a snakelike appendage crawling up his arm and toward his torso might be construed as something to be wary of, but he paid the notion no mind as fascination dulled his primal instincts.

  Lifting his other hand, confident fingers glided down the smooth, shiny surface of the tentacle. Then it began melting, spreading over Magni’s bicep as another appendage leaped from the abyss to land on a knee. Following suit, the newcomer began dissolving over his leg.

  The fear was immediate, but was quickly swallowed by wrath as both his hands began pulsing with black energy outlined in white.

  Two more tentacles burst from the sphere, wrapping around Magni’s wrists and jerking his arms out to either side.

  The diminishing fear began to swell again like an unstoppable tsunami of terror, warring against the building rage within his core that acted like a seawall.

  “There is a storm of hatred inside suffocating a heart that was once so pure…so…infantile…” an eerie voice whispered from the darkness all around Magni. It was like having speakers placed all around. Or maybe the voice was stemming from inside his own mind.

  Playing back the words in his mind, Magni thought about his mom in the graveyard, Ludvig adopting him, and Ghleann loving him.

  Instead of demanding the voice to identify itself, Magni found it easier to give in to his pain. He dropped the power blooming from his hands and succumbed to the Ether melting into his body.

  “I can show you what it means to hate,” the voice purred as more of the liquid oozed over Magni’s flesh. “A
hhhh, yesssss. I see your rage. I see…Ghlean—”

  “DON’T YOU SAY HER NAME!” Magni roared as his eyes filled with furious black; all except his irises, which glowed pure white. Bared teeth seeped spittle with each heaving breath.

  “Of course…” the voice whispered in nominal placation.

  After a few pounding heartbeats, Magni let his fury melt away again. At that moment, he didn’t fear death. In his mind, not even Hell could hope to offer the slightest semblance of the pain the young man felt at that moment. Everything he had lost…it was all just too much. The only reason his heart continued to beat and keep him alive was because that’s all the muscle had ever known, and it fought the instructions to take the rest of the day off.

  Sensing no resistance, the blackness surged and surrounded the young man in a dark embrace. Nostrils, ears, eyes, and mouth were invaded as the Ether sought entry. Magni panicked no longer, uncaring if he lived another moment.

  Images flashed as the Ether explored every crevice of Magni’s mind. An entire lifetime of events played out in seconds, dislodging a single tear that was swept up by the swirling liquid.

  “Do not worry, young one,” the voice cooed. “You are with us now…you are…with us.”

  5

  John - GERMANY

  “We don’t have time for this,” an annoying voice demanded. Well, I say it was annoying, but it might have been because I was taking a well-deserved nappy-nap.

  “Uuuuuhhhnnnn,” I responded eloquently as I forced my heavy eyelids apart. Focusing eyes locked onto my source of disturbance in the nap.

  “What cho want, Gabe?” I drawled through a yawn, pushing myself up on my elbows to squint at my angelic friend. The sun was directly behind him, creating a silhouette that spilled sunlight as he moved. I scowled as I attempted to keep my face in the shade of my archangel friend.

  In my periphery, I saw the tree Jose had been leaning against was sans were.

  “Don’t worry. Your companion is foraging for food,” Gabriel informed, sensing my internal question. “Not everyone can survive on sunlight.” I could hear the smile in his voice and, with a groan, pushed myself to a standing position.