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

by Hunter Blain

  “Focus,” Gabriel asserted while casually floating around me, actively inspecting my stance for flaws.

  With a determined scowl pointed toward my destination, I concentrated on the marble I held in my fist.

  “Now feel space around your back fist. In much the same way you controlled the fabric of reality by condensing it, now I want you to expand space-time behind you.”

  Keeping my eyes open this time, I simultaneously focused on Jose’s sphere, the marble in my hand, and now the fabric of reality around my other fist.

  “Open your fingers,” Gabriel instructed, moving to better see my hand.

  With a brow quivering from the sheer strain of it all, I slowly began opening my right fist, willing the universe just behind me to expand like it was made of stretchy taffy.

  The change was immediate. The steadily moving fireflies all around me began to streak, morphing from balls of speeding light into the lasers I had been expecting.

  “Who-ho-hoooaaaa!” I roared with wide eyes and a smile that stretched from ear to ear.

  “Remember, John,” Gabriel started as I continued to open my fist and increase our speed. “You’ll have to be going as close to the speed of light as possible to prevent being torn apart by gravity.”

  “I got this, baby! Wooooooo!”

  “I have calibrated the black hole so you will arrive in 1960. Good luck, and see you in a minute,” Gabriel said with a smile as he disconnected himself from me, vanishing before my eyes as he returned to the normal flow of space-time.

  Feeling the universe flow around me but not over me felt akin to being in my own personal John-sized submarine while in the ocean. Because of the specialized vehicle, I could move infinitely faster compared to if I were just doggy paddling twenty feet below the surface.

  The black hole loomed, with the accretion disk making up much of what I could see. At the center was absolute nothingness, indescribably darker than the blackest black you could possibly imagine. The reddish orange disk flowed around the hole in seemingly impossible ways, reminding me that I could see all sides of the sphere at the same time.

  Opening my back hand even more, I began outstretching my fingers as the cosmic destroyer seemed to move everything else out of the way as I approached. It didn’t appear that the black hole was getting bigger; instead, it seemed the universe was making way for it by expanding outward. The stars somewhere in the distance began stretching as the light was morphed and bent around the immense gravity.

  The ever-gazing eye stared back at me, with the disk acting as the iris and the empty nothing serving as a terrifying pupil. It was like looking into the eye of God himself.

  Shaking my head to banish the awe that wanted to envelop the entirety of my mind, I refocused on my speed as we drew ever nearer.

  Everything I could see in my cone of vision was being manipulated by the insatiable gravity. Entire clouds of stars blurred into unrecognizable pancakes as they were squished, stretched, and wrapped around the sphere.

  This was the absolute biggest thing I had ever witnessed with my own eyes. With just a brief, curious question of relatable size, my armor informed me that my brain wouldn’t be able to fathom its cosmic enormity, and as such, there was nothing to compare it to. Hell, I couldn’t even comprehend the size of our own sun, much less four million of them.

  “Holy shit,” I barked between gritted teeth as the smooth ride started bucking like a high-speed car transitioning from the smooth asphalt of a well-maintained highway to a rough and unforgiving dirt road. Even with a clenched jaw, my teeth rattled like a wind-up toy of a chomping mouth.

  Since slowing down wasn’t an option, I had no choice but to stomp on the gas with reckless abandon.

  A portion of my mind imagined extra protection around Jose as I fully opened my back hand.

  The fabric of reality was condensed in front of me and expanded behind, effectively creating a wave that I was surfing on. This allowed me to break the laws of physics and travel at near the speed of light without having the side effect of exponentially increased mass, as Einstein’s theory dictated. I also didn’t have to pull from immeasurable amounts of energy in order to get my body moving through space at near the speed of light.

  My armor tried to briefly project to my conscious mind the mathematical equations that represented the sheer ridiculous amount of pure energy needed to move me and Jose without using the warping effect, but I batted it away for fear of having my entire brain melt from trying to comprehend something so impossible.

  All I needed to know was: surfing space equals good.

  Everything started to bounce in my vision like someone was taking a fission-powered massage gun and pressing it to the back of my skull on full speed.

  I might have been screaming but couldn’t really tell as my mind was near the breaking point with keeping Jose’s ball intact, condensing space in front of me, and…that other thing behind. Shit! I was losing it.

  “FO…CUS…!” I barked, scowling so hard in concentration that my face hurt. My jaw popped and my teeth sent an email flagged Urgent that mentioned something about hoping the message found my brain well, AND THAT MY TEETH WERE ABOUT TO SHATTER!

  The fist that was extended in front of me began to ache as my hand felt like it was being inserted into a steamroller. The bones in my wrist popped as a warm sensation began to grow at my elbow. It was then I vaguely understood the gravity of the black hole was beginning to pull my body apart in a process called spaghettification, starting with my extended arm. If I didn’t increase my speed, the continual and drastic change in gravity would literally rip me to tiny John-pieces, killing me. Oh! And Jose. But mostly me.

  “SHIT!” I bellowed before taking in a deep breath and throwing everything I had into both hands. The fabric of space condensed to the size of a single cell while I forced the wave behind me to grow to the proportion of an entire city.

  There was a pop that I felt but didn’t hear—which was odd—and everything smoothed out.

  The pain in my extended arm receded as I felt my joints, skin, muscles, and tendons return to their normal length; albeit with a warm, throbbing sensation.

  The blackness began enfolding everything around me, and I looked up to see I was inside the outside layer of the sphere, just past the event horizon.

  Space all around began moving behind me, crushing in on itself like turning off a really, really old television set. The images all rushed to a singular point in space before blinking out of sight, leaving me in absolute blackness.

  No sight. No sound except for my own panicked breaths which the angelic armor allowed me to hear. I couldn’t feel the universe around me anymore, and the cords on my neck stood out as I teetered on the brink of losing my sanity.

  Then, from my peripheral vision, I could see someone standing directly under my feet.

  With a gasp, I shot wide eyes down to see I was standing on top of myself, who was also looking down. It was like an identical copy of me was one floor below with a floor made of glass. Below him was another me and another and another, forming a line stretching further than I could see, each John almost standing directly on top of the next one’s head.

  Starting from somewhere out of sight, the line of Johns began looking upward, with the one next in line a split second behind. Confusion stole my breath as I saw the line of head turns rushing toward me, resembling a human wave one might see at a sports arena.

  Curious and feeling a weird sense of obligation to follow suit, I yanked my face upward to briefly see the John above me looking down and locking eyes before he repeated the action and shot his face upward a split second later.

  None of the other Johns had the Jose-egg, and that warranted a question that I couldn’t ask—didn’t know who to ask.

  Turning my head, I saw the ivory sphere was still floating next to me, attached with Gabriel’s link.

  Realizing I was still surfing near the speed of light, I was preparing to ease back on the throttle when I saw the
conga line of Johns beneath me doing the same thing.

  As the wave of motion moved as fast as a bullet toward me, I barked out a single, “No!” before slamming down on the gas, breaking the line of predetermined movement, and rocketing forward.

  The line vanished like a sand sculpture hit by a hurricane, only to be replaced with a multitude of colors that created an entire landscape of undulating geometrical patterns that seemed alive.

  I couldn’t make sense of it all, and it filled my brain with stabbing pains to try and do so.

  Circles formed squares before growing into a tesseract that somehow then straightened into a straight line before waving and crawling away like a serpent. And that was only one tiny shape that I was able to lock my eyes onto. There were millions going on all around me at varying degrees of depth, size, and patterns.

  Then the colors began stemming from a singular point, all geometrical shapes straightening to perfect lines as if corrected by the intense gravity of the black hole I was in.

  Horror struck as I realized I was flying straight toward it.

  A notion came over me that this might be my way out, but the idea did not stifle the existential terror that radiated from a tight chest.

  The colors swirled with violent indifference, taking over one another as they lost ground in the same instance. Then the colors began to slow and smooth out, as if a tentative peace had fallen upon them.

  Random intervals from the full spectrum of light began to form a recognizable line, as if the colors were attempting to find their rightful place along a rainbow that spanned everything I could see.

  Right as the last of the spectrum settled into place, a circle of pure white light appeared where the colors stemmed from. At first, it grew slowly in size until—in the blink of an eye—it rocketed toward me like a bullet train, and I was on the tracks.

  I screamed.

  14

  Depweg - Grand Island, Nebraska, 1983

  Tiffany stared off into space as she pushed her half-full bowl away, her skin fading to a pale white. In contrast, Meli regarded Depweg with a stern gaze, taking in the absolutely insane story with stoic determination.

  “This John sounds like an idiot,” Meli said, crossing her arms and leaning back in the wooden chair.

  In answer, Depweg chuckled while saying, “He is many things. An idiot would fit among the ever-lengthening list juuuuuust fine.”

  The trio sat in silence as each processed the words in their own way. Tiffany crossed her arms over the table and laid her face in the crook of one elbow. Meli remained deep in thought, while Depweg waited patiently for the two weres before him to come to terms with something that had taken him years to personally experience and process; a never-ending war with all of creation on the line.

  “What now?” Meli asked, breaking the silence.

  In response, Depweg said…nothing. He was simply not prepared for that level of acceptance so quickly.

  Seeing the man before her struggle with what words to put forth, Meli helped along by adding, “I mean with you. If you are from the future, how do we get you back?”

  “I, uh…I don’t know.”

  Meli seemed to anticipate that answer and nodded her head while letting her gaze wander absently around the room. She aggressively tongued what Depweg thought might be a bit of trapped beef in the crevices of her teeth. Or maybe it was an involuntary reaction to thinking.

  “Is it safe to assume you need a place to crash?” Meli offered in a question.

  “I want to be polite and say something along the lines of, ‘Oh no, please, don’t worry yourself.’ But the truth is, I have nowhere else to go.”

  Tiffany shot her head up and excitedly asked, “Hey! Um, when were you, you know, turned?”

  “I already see where you are going with this, and I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Depweg explained, making the excitement drain from Tiffany’s expression. “I was made just before World War II, so I am alive in the ’80s, and even living in the United States. But—”

  “But it’s probably not a good idea for the two of you to meet,” Meli finished his thought for him, standing from the table to take the empty mixing bowl to the sink.

  “Why not?” Tiffany asked, looking back and forth between the two who seemed to understand something she didn’t.

  “We don’t know for sure,” Depweg admitted, “but there are theories that suggest like matter cannot occupy like space.”

  When no one called him on his Timecop reference, Depweg briefly wondered if the movie had even come out yet. He wasn’t as good with cinema as John was.

  “John…” Depweg breathed just below a whisper.

  Both weres heard his barely audible word, and Meli turned around from the sink to ask, “You think the idiot vampire can somehow help you? Didn’t you say he got his angel powers sometime around 2030?”

  “Yeah,” Depweg confirmed, leaning against the wall again and stroking his chin. The light beard he had grown in Faerie had healed—for lack of a better word—after being incinerated. At that moment, he couldn’t help but ponder how his beard knew when he wanted it gone, as with shaving, or if it had been damaged in battle. Questions for another time.

  After a few heartbeats, another idea manifested itself.

  “Maybe Da?” Depweg audibly asked himself. “Or…Lily…”

  From his peripheral vision, Depweg could see Meli crossing her arms and tilting her head in annoyance at not being filled in on whom these names belonged to, but decided the man would explain if the idea had potential.

  Tiffany, on the other hand, couldn’t resist.

  “Who are they?”

  Meli uncrossed her arms and placed her elbows on the sink she was leaning her backside against, though to her short frame, it was more of her middle back than her butt.

  “Da is a friend,” Depweg began to explain, carefully choosing what words to use for the unique individual that was Raziel the Angel.

  “And Lily?” Meli inquired.

  “Someone…that might have answers.”

  “But not a friend?” Meli pressed.

  “She is…I think…but probably not at this point in time.”

  “Hmph,” Meli acknowledged, turning to finish cleaning up the small mess made from cooking.

  Another car attached itself to the train of thought Depweg was attempting to conduct.

  “Gabriel?” he asked out loud, looking up toward the ceiling. When nothing happened, Depweg shuffled slightly on his feet and tried again, louder this time. “Gabriel? Can you hear me?”

  Both women traded glances with one another before returning their gazes to the man who exuded a sense of minute desperation in his tone, making the weres uncomfortable with his behavior.

  Depweg could see his new friends shifting anxiously as he called out to the ceiling, and quickly explained.

  “Sorry. It’s, um…it’s a trick that sometimes works.”

  “When you say Gabriel, do you mean the angel?” Tiffany asked.

  “Archangel,” Depweg and Meli corrected at the same time, drawing a surprised look from the other that was quickly squashed.

  Tiffany looked back and forth between the pair, sensing a new connection that made her heart speed up and hands yearn to tighten into fists; she restrained herself, however. Weres were hard to come by, except in protected areas of the world where packs grew large. But in the free world, as Tiffany called it, a good were partner was exceptionally rare.

  Meli intentionally turned her gaze away from the man and briefly locked gazes with Tiffany. Meli seemed to blush as she turned to look out the window, and Tiffany took that as a show of submission. After all, she had found Depweg first.

  An idea bloomed out of nowhere, breaking Depweg from the awkward silence, and he asked, “Do you have a phone?”

  “Sure!” Tiffany said energetically and quickly, throwing one more glance at Meli, who only shifted her eyes to verify the unspoken message that was being sent; he’s mine.

 
Strutting to the connected living room, Tiffany made a dramatic show of presenting the ugliest telephone Depweg had ever seen hanging from the wall. It was a shade of green that was edging toward brown and had a twisted cord and a fading rotary dial.

  After a few moments of the attractive female showcasing the phone as if they were on The Price Is Right, Depweg cleared his throat and said, “Um…thanks.”

  “No problemo,” she returned as she plopped on the worn couch that looked like it had been made to specifically camouflage in desert regions.

  Picking up the phone, Depweg regarded the rotary dial…and completely blanked.

  Several seconds passed before the phone was hesitantly placed back on the receiver.

  “What’s up, doc?” Tiffany asked as she repositioned herself on the couch so that she was lying lengthwise with her elbows on the armrest propping her head up.

  “I don’t remember where John is in 1983. We didn’t stay in constant contact until 2019. Before then, it was touch and go. It could be an entire decade before we reached out, and it was usually him needing my help with something.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a very good friend,” Tiffany mused, kicking her legs to-and-fro.

  “We each had our own lives to live. Heck, I don’t even remember where I was in ’83. You gotta remember that for me, this was around fifty years ago.”

  “So how old are you?” Meli asked, joining the conversation as she walked into the living room.

  “Old enough that I first met John during World War II. We…” Depweg thought for a moment, reliving the experience, including John getting stuck in a pipe while trying to infiltrate a Nazi underground bunker. “We killed Hitler…kinda.”

  “I thought Hitler blew his brains out,” Meli corrected.

  “Oh, he did. And that was all John’s fault. We had Hitler cornered, and John freaking tossed him a gun.”

  “Why’d the dweeb do that?” Tiffany asked, pushing herself to a seated position with her legs under her backside.