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

by Hunter Blain

  “He…he was either going to get himself killed with an overdose or he was going to hurt a lot more people to get what he wanted. And before you ask, I have no idea how many drugs it would take to kill a supe…but I was sure he had stolen enough from that house to find out.” Meli took in a shuddering breath before letting out, “He was covered in so much blood that wasn’t his. He…he tried to hide it, but even his mouth had some smeared around it.”

  “He shifted,” Depweg said for her.

  Another tear slipped free, and this time, Meli only glided it across her cheek with a bent finger.

  “You did the right thing. Had the Council found out…” Depweg let his meaning linger in the air.

  “I don’t know who or what the Council is, but I understand that mass murders like that wouldn’t be tolerated by someone who knows what we are. It-it-it was just a gut feeling.”

  “You saved his life. In more ways than one.”

  Tears began flowing with abandon as Meli sniffled once and whispered, “Ben.”

  “Hey,” Depweg said, fully turning where the pair stood still on the sidewalk to place a hand on her shoulder. “At least you know he makes it, right? I mean, he was—will be there with us during the battle in Germany.”

  Meli scrunched up her face as the emotions boiled over, spilling clear liquid from her eyes and nose as her bottom lip quivered.

  “Thank you,” Meli mouthed, unable to fully get the words out.

  Depweg took a step forward and wrapped his muscular arms around the much smaller Meli, holding her tight as she sobbed into his chest. She didn’t return the embrace. Instead, she folded her arms against her chest in an unconscious defensive stance and tried to push herself as deep into Depweg as possible in an attempt to hide from the unfairness of the outside world.

  The two just stood like that for what felt like minutes. Depweg didn’t move or say anything as Meli first crescendoed into body-wracking sobs before diminishing into periodic dainty sniffles.

  Sensing she was about to regain her composure, Depweg let his arms fall away, leaving Meli to be met with a Rorschach of tears on the gray tank top.

  Depweg noticed she didn’t pull further back and remained only inches from his body. In response, he lifted his muscular arms and rested thick hands on her shoulders.

  “Thank you,” Meli said just above a whisper as she gently rested her forehead on Depweg’s ample chest.

  After several seconds, Meli looked up at Depweg, who was clearly trying to figure out something to say, and then suddenly pulled him down for a kiss.

  A yellow Volkswagen Bug slowed as it passed by, but neither of the weres noticed.

  19

  Locke - The In-Between

  Closing the door to his home, Locke silently said the command words while focusing on his will, disconnecting the gateway. After feeling the magic break precisely where it had been designed to, Locke opened the door of his private dormitory and stepped into the hallway.

  Shutting his room behind him, Locke willed a small, invisible tether—which only he would notice—on the opposite side of the door where he stood, and then locked his dorm.

  Walking with purpose, Locke strode toward the bank of portals made to resemble elevators.

  Stepping to the nearest silver door, Locke pressed the call button. There was a faint pop that could barely be heard as the silver doors opened to reveal a normal-looking elevator. He entered and turned around to face a row of buttons going from floor to ceiling.

  Finding the button he was looking for, Locke pressed it. The doors closed, paused for a second as something popped, and then slid open again.

  An enormous, multistoried library that dwarfed anything on Earth filled his entire vision with limitless knowledge just waiting for him to seize it.

  Stepping through the portal, the indescribably pleasant smell of old books filled Locke’s nose, making him close his eyes and inhale deeply. His skin prickled up his arms all the way to his shoulders as he breathed out a silent moan. It was something about the sheer expanse of knowledge and power residing within walls that stretched further than Locke could see. It was the same when he glanced upward, unable to even view the ceiling, an opening in the shape of a rectangle revealing countless floors.

  Allowing the feeling of pleasure that only a bookworm could experience while in the presence of an abundance of intoxicating aromas stemming from countless pages, ancient ink, and weathered bindings, Locke made his way to the librarian’s desk.

  “What can I do for you, Apprentice Locke,” the stereotypical elderly librarian greeted with professional indifference. As she waited for an answer, the librarian continued moving with amazing speed and incredible grace as she processed books, or so Locke guessed.

  “Good, um, morrow,” Locke said lamely, not remembering what time it was while inside the In-Between.

  “Out with it,” the librarian instructed before pulling out a wand and flicking the end over the stack of books that had been processed.

  Little balls of light spilled from the tip like a child blowing on a bubble wand. Locke watched in amazement as the balls of light picked up the books, one after the other, and began flying off in different directions. Some went straight up while others curved to floors close to the one Locke was on. A single ball flew straight down one of the hallways created by endless walls of bookcases, moving at incredible speeds.

  “Apprentice,” the librarian hissed in annoyance.

  “Oh, right,” Locke fumbled with his words, trying to recall why he was there.

  “If you are in search of the ABCs of Illusion…” The librarian’s stern gaze latched onto Locke’s illusionary eye, and she seemed to make a microexpression of disgust.

  The image of Locke staring into his bathroom mirror and seeing the magical equivalent of John trying to draw an eye with crayons at a colorful desk made for toddlers came to mind. John was even using a fist, with the crayon poking out of the bottom while his tongue lolled out the side of his mouth.

  Remembering the faces of Elders Tafoya and Scymanky, Locke blurted out, “Bi-Binding. I need the section on binding spells.”

  “Accitio,” the librarian confidently stated as she pulled a double-sided disk the size of a coin from a neatly stacked pile. On one side it was white, with the reverse being black.

  Touching the white side to a modern-looking device that looked sort of like a tiny scanner, the librarian typed something into her deceptively old computer and pressed enter. A quick glow slid from around where the coin didn’t cover before a green light illuminated on the small machine.

  Picking up the coin, the librarian handed it to Locke while repeating a phrase she had probably said a million times in her professional career, “White to the site, black to come back. Don’t lose the coin or you’ll be trapped forever.”

  The degree of carelessness with which she spouted the phrase gave Locke pause as he considered her words. He thought about asking her to clarify, but could correctly guess what answer he’d receive from the seasoned caretaker of the Council’s library.

  Looking down at the coin in his hand as if it were a loaded gun, Locke stepped away from the desk as the librarian continued to work at a feverish pace.

  Turning the small disk over in his hand, he regarded both sides and repeated what the elderly woman had said.

  “White to the site, black to come back.”

  Holding the coin between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand so as not to accidentally push the wrong side, Locke positioned his right index finger over the white portion of the disk and lightly pressed his skin to it.

  There was a flash of light that startled Locke before the sudden illumination was sucked back into the disk itself.

  With his mind attempting to make sense of what had just happened, Locke squeezed his fingers a little too tight, and the tiny portal device hopped upward, ricocheting off the ceiling.

  “Damn it!” Locke barked as the disk started to bounce off the floor, prompting him to
awkwardly lumber after it while bent over at the waist. Reaching hands tried to catch the portal device that had somehow landed on its side and began rolling away with alarming speed.

  Fear of being trapped in the library forever made Locke push forward, his own knees smacking into his chest as he ran after the disk.

  As his extended fingers came within inches of the coin, a reading table decided to introduce itself to Locke’s exposed forehead. The friendly greeting was made all the more brutal by the fact that the table was made from dense, petrified wood and not that cheap particle board crap you could find for sale at a big-box grocery store.

  Stars exploded in Locke’s vision, and he heard more than felt the air whoosh from his lungs as he collapsed to the ground in a heap.

  After several seconds, Locke brought a hand up to his throbbing head and touched what he knew to be hot, sticky blood without having to open his eye.

  “No bleeding on the carpet, Apprentice Locke,” the stern voice of the librarian demanded.

  Finally managing to open his eye, three librarians swirled in a fast circle above him. Each of them was holding what looked to be a stapler and were bringing it closer to his forehead.

  Click, click, click sounded as pain lashed out from the already throbbing wound. Locke’s eye finally focused to see only one elderly librarian standing back up with the stapler in her hand.

  “I’ll bet you miss depth perception now, don’t you, Apprentice Locke?”

  Sitting up, Locke rubbed his forehead, which was shrieking with pain, as a scowling eye regarded the woman standing over him.

  “Try not to lose this again, apprentice,” the librarian chided as she held out the black-and-white disk. “You wouldn’t want to be stuck in here forever, now would you?”

  In answer, Locke reached a hand out to grab the coin, only to miss it by a few inches.

  Grasping his wrist with quick, cold fingers, the librarian aided the man with a new appreciation for depth perception and stuck the coin in his hand. Then she turned and began striding toward an opening a few yards further down the hall.

  Getting to his feet, Locke pulled up his robe and inserted the coin into his jeans pocket, where it would be safe.

  Next, he hesitantly followed the path where the librarian had disappeared to, walking forward while holding his forehead and scowling from both annoying pain and confusion.

  Stepping into the clearing, Locke saw the librarian move to sit in her chair just behind the main desk.

  “Wha…” Locke hissed, realizing he was on the first floor and just around the corner of the main entrance. To verify what he was seeing, Locke looked over to see the bank of elevators.

  “It’s best to learn the rules of the coin while still in the beginner section,” the librarian explained while typing away at her old computer with the giant boxlike monitor. Then she leaned in her chair to regard the young wizard and asked, “Wouldn’t you agree, apprentice?”

  Lowering a hand which had several blotches of blood on it, Locke gave a smile and head nod that read thanks for helping, ya bitch, while turning back to the hallway.

  Back on track, Locke scanned the sections until he came to half a bookcase marked Accitio.

  “Merlin’s beard…” Locke droned as he looked at the huge bookcase half filled with the books he sought, and half with another topic. “There’s so many.”

  Picking up the first one, which Locke could barely reach on his tippy-toes, he began skimming through in search of anything that might jump out at him.

  After thirteen or fourteen books, an idea came to him that made Locke feel stupid for even considering it, and he pulled out the eyepatch the Elders had given him. Running it along the spines of the books, Locke silently prayed that no one was watching him, and even glanced down either side of the hallway between bookcases.

  By the fourth shelf, when Locke was about to give up from how stupid he felt, one of the books jiggled as he passed it.

  “Hmm?” Locke breathed out before moving the eyepatch in the other direction.

  As before, the book moved when the patch passed over it, almost like a magnet.

  Returning the eyepatch to his robe pocket, Locke pulled the book off the case and made his way over to the reading table that had first greeted him.

  Normally, Locke would want to incinerate the offending inanimate object, at least privately, but the book he held was just too intriguing to him.

  Sitting in one of the two reading chairs, Locke placed the book labeled Binding for Beginners on the table and chuckled to himself.

  “At least it’s to the point, I suppose,” Locke said to no one as he opened the book to the first page.

  There, tucked between the front page and the cover, was a folded piece of white paper that stood in stark contrast to the yellowing of the other pages.

  Picking it up, Locke looked up and down the hall to make sure he was alone before opening the fresh sheet of paper that had been tucked inside the ancient tome and reading a handwritten note, presumably from either Elder Tafoya or Scymanky.

  The first paragraph had instructions on which page would show him how to properly bind the enchanted eyepatch to his skin.

  “Enchanted, eh?” Locke admired as he pulled the patch out of his pocket again, turning it over in his fingers as he regarded it with renewed fascination.

  Following the directions, Locke focused on the mechanics of the spell while speaking the words and pressing the material around his eye socket. It was important that he verbally enunciate the spell for the first time, and several thereafter, until the meaning of the magic was ingrained in his mind.

  It was like driving to work; the first time, you paid attention to every last detail, every last turn, until you pulled into the parking lot. After a month, it no longer required any conscious thought, and you simply got in your car, listened to the radio or your favorite audiobook narrated by Luke Daniels, and then bam! You arrived as if on autopilot. Magic was the same way. All one had to do to expertly cast magic spells was to practice over and over until it was nothing more than a mental reflex.

  The material adhered to the skin around Locke’s eye socket as securely as if he had used Gorilla Glue.

  To his surprise, he was able to exaggerate facial expressions with ease. It was like the eyepatch was made from a lightweight, stretchy material that offered no resistance.

  Something caught his attention, and Locke looked at the hand that was still positioned in front of his face, and noticed his depth perception had returned.

  “Ha!” Locke barked out in surprise as he closed his good eye and waved his hand around, overjoyed that he could still see his own hand as if his eye wasn’t missing.

  With a broad smile that promised wrinkles later in life if he continued to crease his face so hard, Locke opened his eye and picked up the paper once more.

  As quickly as it had come, Locke’s smile plummeted into a face-drooping frown at what he read.

  “It can’t be true,” he hissed in dismay and shock. “It can’t be!”

  After he finished the letter, he reread it to make sure he fully understood what it said, before it burst into a flash of flame, making him yelp in surprise. The letter had been for his eye only.

  As ashes fell to the table, a stunned Locke could only utter one word.

  “Magni…”

  20

  Depweg - Grand Island, Nebraska, 1983

  Meli rolled off of Depweg to lie in the crook of his arm, both of the weres panting from exertion. Light snuck in from a broken blade in the blinds, reflecting off the sheen of sweat coating Depweg’s heaving chest.

  “That…was amazing,” he breathed with a look of pleased bewilderment on his face.

  “Been a while, huh?” Meli asked, running a finger through his chest hair in little circles.

  “You have no idea,” Depweg admitted, trying to pin down his last intimate encounter. “One shitty thing about being a were…” he mused.

  “We’re only drawn to
other weres.”

  Something tapped on Depweg’s mind, enticing him to say, “That’s weird…”

  “What?” Meli asked with a coy smile. “That I’m a cat and you’re a dog?”

  Depweg let out a throaty chuckle while slapping a hand over his eyes in mock embarrassment. At that moment, he knew the outside world would probably see what they were doing as odd. But he didn’t care. It felt right, and that’s all that mattered to him.

  Letting his hand slide down his face to land on top of hers, Meli stopped twirling his chest hair and interlaced their fingers together.

  Then the pair crossed the short distance to one another’s lips and began passionately kissing.

  They spent the rest of the day like that, only getting up to take care of bodily functions such as eating, drinking, and other essentials. It felt right to have her in his arms in a way that Depweg had never before imagined.

  Before the pair knew it, headlights were pulling into the detached garage, drawing a pensive look from Meli.

  “What’s wrong?” Depweg asked softly, gliding a fingertip down his lover’s arm.

  “You know what’s wrong,” Meli replied, jerking out of bed and hustling to put on a clean pair of shorts and an oversized T-shirt.

  Without another word, Meli stomped out of the bedroom and toward the living room right as Tiffany was entering through the kitchen side door.

  Slipping on his athletic shorts, Depweg walked to the doorway. Crossing massive arms over his ample chest, he leaned against the frame and listened just out of sight.

  “You…bitch!” Tiffany growled with a vitriol that made the hairs on Depweg’s neck stand on end.

  “It’s not what you think,” Meli countered. Depweg could almost hear her hands moving up in placation as she spoke.

  “I can smell it on you,” Tiffany hissed with warping vocal cords. “The whole house smells of fucking!”

  Pushing off the doorframe, Depweg strode into the living room in time to see Meli backing up to the far wall, stumbling on the couch as she moved.