Consequence

by C R Langille

  “In a way, but we live on through the music.”

  Doyle couldn’t see anything. The light was too much, even through closed eyes.

  “Soon the euniphrites will be too powerful for you to contend with. Come home, son. I can bring you to the other side where you will be happy and safe.”

  Doyle scratched his pate.

  “I can’t. I have a job to do.”

  “Of course you do. Your mother would be proud.”

  His father’s tone implied the man knew what Doyle’s answer would be and wasn’t surprised. The light dissipated along with his father’s voice. Doyle looked up to the heavens.

  “Typical. Cryptic. Thanks,” he said.

  The euniphrite lay on its back. Orange blood seeped from a massive wound on its chest. He wasn’t an expert, but it looked as if a massive edged weapon cleaved through the creature.

  Elder Mayberry let out a groan. Doyle turned to the young man. He too was on the ground but looked much worse than before. His shirt had burned away, and the skin around his chest was blackened and blistered. The Elder’s eyes were fused shut, and most of his hair was nothing more than a melted mass on top of a charred head. Elder Mayberry tried to move but fell back to the floor.

  “Try not to move,” Doyle said. “I’m not going to sugarcoat it. It’s bad.”

  “It’s okay,” Mayberry said and tried to smile.

  “I think you need a new dictionary. I’m pretty sure okay isn’t what you are,” Evard said coming up behind Doyle.

  “It’s okay, I can go now,” Mayberry said. The pain in his face faded away, and he took on a serene look.

  Mayberry let out his last breath. A blue orb escaped the Elder’s chest and floated toward the roof. Doyle tried to track it, but it got harder and harder to look at. Doyle finally turned away. When he looked back, the orb was gone.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Toby crumpled the note and threw it away. The wind picked it up and sent it flying through the air.

  “Damn it.”

  I’m sorry, Love. Truly I am.

  “Stow it.”

  Toby kept the gun ready as he made his way through his home. Was it still home without his family there? Did it serve a purpose without occupants? Most importantly, what the hell happened while he was gone?

  Improvised Explosive Device flitted through his thoughts. Shards of glass littered the floor along with books, knick-knacks, and a greyish dust. The hairs on his arms raised and left a tingle on his skin as the cold spot in his chest twinged with anticipation.

  Can’t you taste it, Toby Dick? Someone let loose a shitstorm. Smells fucking amazing!

  He couldn’t smell anything, but the latent energy in the room told him everything. Someone threw around some mojo. Evard.

  “Linda? Kiddo? You guys here?”

  Nothing.

  You read the note, didn’t you?

  “I needed to make sure.”

  Toby made a sweep through the house but hesitated outside of Sebastian’s door. It was broken and splintered outward into the hall. Toby entered the room slow and steady.

  The morning sun peeked through the window, and like the rest of the house, the room was a disaster. Toys and clothes were scattered everywhere, and in the corner, a black stain ran from the floor to the ceiling.

  Sebastian told him a few times about the bad man who lived in the corner and came alive at night. Toby always dismissed it as an overactive imagination. Perhaps he should have believed the boy.

  Something moved in the closet. Toby brought the gun up and took aim.

  “Buddy, you there?”

  A giggle, low at first, and then nothing, as if someone tried to stifle their laughter.

  “Sebastian?”

  He took a step forward and reached out for the closet door.

  “Come on out, it’s okay.”

  Another giggle, and then there was more movement from behind the cheap door.

  “This isn’t funny.”

  It’s fucking hilarious, Toby Dick. Go ahead, put a round through the door. Teach that little shit who’s the fucking boss.

  Toby took a deep breath, held it in, and threw the door open. Something large and purple jumped at him. He jerked the trigger and fell backward. The shot’s blast amplified in the small room, and for a moment he couldn’t hear anything but the bells in his own head. Whatever was on top of him was light, and it didn’t take much to throw off.

  The thing hit the wall and rolled. Toby scrambled back and took another shot. White stuffing flew into the air.

  Toby shot and killed a toy stuffed rabbit. He had won the toy for Sebastian at the State Fair two years prior. It wasn’t anywhere near menacing—crazy cute, yes, but menacing, no.

  A giggle floated to his ears. He trained the gun back to the closet, but other than some board games, more stuffed animals, and some clothes, it was empty. The laughter dissipated into nothing.

  “I’m going crazy, aren’t I?”

  No, Love. Things are getting much, much, worse I’m afraid.

  “Said the voice from my head.”

  ***

  “What in the hell?”

  A euniphrite, Love.

  “Like the thing we saw in the air?”

  The same.

  Only a heap of bones remained, but Toby gave it a wide berth. He envisioned it coming to life with ginger fire in its skull, but it remained still as he backed away toward the house.

  Another note.

  “Damn it, Linda.”

  What was the number one rule of getting found? Stay fucking put. Toby crumpled the note and threw it away.

  Probably out looking for a good screw, Toby Dick. You know how she gets when you’re away. Well, at least I know how she gets. She gets good.

  “Shut up,” Toby said.

  He slapped his forehead a couple times, and the voices drowned away in a buzz, nothing more than a small logging camp in his head that cut through his sanity one thought at a time.

  I can help you, Love. You just have to ask.

  Toby didn’t say anything. He checked the house to be sure. Toby gave the dead euniphrite another glance when he came back out of the house and neared his father’s car. Evard loved that car, and it must have traumatized the old man to see it in such a condition. Toby experienced a pinwheel of emotions. At least five years had passed since the last time he visited or talked to his father. They didn’t exactly leave off on the best of terms, and it seemed so silly now with the living nightmares. Blood was blood, and Toby wouldn’t let arguments and ornery behavior destroy everything. He hoped his father felt the same way and wished he was there to say so in person. The apocalypse seemed to bring the best and worst out of people and allowed someone to get their priorities straight.

  The wind tickled his bald head. When he looked back to the house, the sewing room light was on in his mother’s old room. An unseen force pulled him toward the house, but Toby willed himself to stop before he entered the threshold. The house itself seemed alive, and the door appeared as an open maw. He left and got back into the car. When he looked back, all the lights in the house were on, and a silhouette of a woman stood in the window.

  Toby started the vehicle and drove away.

  Drive away, Toby Dick. Leave them behind. You’re good at leaving your family behind. Linda needed to find a real man, someone who’d take care of her and your little shit son. Why do you think she came to me T.D.? Not my charming personality. That’s for fucking sure.

  Toby looked in the rearview. He wasn’t sure what he would find—maybe a decomposed corpse of Brock in the back seat. Only his face filled the mirror, but something slid across his eyes. Not on top of them, but behind him. It was only a flash, but for a moment it looked like hundreds of faces stared back through his pupils.

  Look out, Love
.

  A woman walked in front of the car, and Toby slammed on the brakes and swerved, but it was too late. She hit the hood and rolled up into the windshield. The glass spider-webbed, and the howl of brakes cried into the night. Somehow, the smash of the window and the deep crack of bone split through the roar of rubber on road.

  He stopped, but inertia pulled the woman’s body to the asphalt. She hit the ground and rolled to the curb.

  “Jesus.”

  Toby killed the vehicle and jumped out. Blood pooled around the woman’s head painting the dark grey road. He stopped short of her and leaned forward, his hands on his knees. Toby fought the urge to vomit as sickness crept up through his stomach.

  She’s still alive, Love. Can’t you feel her?

  He could. Her life leaked onto the pavement, but her heartbeat thrummed through his body. It beat with a slow throb that fluttered and threatened to stop with each thump. The pulse both intoxicated and beckoned to him.

  She’s done for. You should store her life. We could use her.

  “What are you talking about?”

  What in the world did she want with the woman? He was afraid of what he would find, but he still reached out with his hand. Toby wasn’t sure what he grasped for, but he walked forward, closer to the woman. She let out a choke and twitched on the ground.

  Quickly, Love. Or it will be too late.

  “I don’t feel—”

  It zapped him, like an electric shock after walking across carpet. She connected with him, and he pulled her into his core. The aroma of fresh roasted coffee filled the air. Linda made coffee just like it, and it was one of his favorite things. Best part of the morning and one of the little joys he cherished.

  Toby’s breathing slowed, and a hunger he hadn’t noticed before faded into the background. It was as if he’d awoken from a deep sleep.

  “Stop.”

  The voice came from behind. Toby didn’t have time to turn before the tall man with the wispy blonde hair knocked him off balance. The connection with the dying woman fled from his fingertips until there was nothing left. He rolled to his feet drawing the pistol.

  Kill the prick, Toby Dick! Who fuck does he think he is? He’s food!

  Toby clenched his teeth together until his jaw ached. Heat rushed through his body and warmed his core, the only exception being the cold spot on his heart. The blackness grew bigger since the last time. Toby growled and aimed at Wispy.

  “What did you do?” the man asked.

  Wispy held the woman in his arms and rocked her body back in forth as a parent would a wounded child. It became obvious who was the parent and who was the child. The woman’s hair held the same feathery quality as the tall man, and they shared the same nose. Wrinkles of time weathered the woman’s face. Canyons of creases ran from the crow’s feet near her eyes down her cheeks.

  Smoke wafted from the woman’s charred skin, and the stink of burnt meat fouled Toby’s nostrils. Blistered flesh ran across her neck and chest. Jesus, he about killed again. He almost consumed her as he had with Donna.

  Toby inspected his hand as if it had appeared out of nowhere. He didn’t know what to say. What do you tell someone when you’d killed their mother? Worst of all, he felt great physically.

  You needed the boost, Love. You were running on empty.

  “You made me do this,” Toby said.

  Wispy looked up from his mother’s body. The man’s eyes bore fissures through Toby.

  “I don’t even know you,” Wispy said.

  “I wasn’t… I mean, damn it.”

  Wispy laid his mother to rest on the road and stood up.

  Careful, this gob shite looks off his rocker.

  Toby took a step back and aimed the gun at him.

  “Hold it right there.”

  “Easy, easy,” Wispy said. His voice cracked, and tears still ran down the man’s face.

  Wispy reached for something behind his back.

  “Don’t,” Toby said.

  Wispy raised his hand back into the air and backed away from Toby. The tears were still there, but the expression on Wispy’s face morphed from shock to anger. The man’s upper lip curled into a sneer, and he flexed his hands into fists.

  Smoke this fucker, T.D. It’s him or you, and we could use him to top off the tanks, if you know what we mean.

  A thousand voices joined in agreement, and Toby’s vision swirled. He lowered the gun and put his palm on his forehead. He tried to massage the voices down into submission, but it was no use.

  You think you would let him walk after killing your mom? I don’t think so. Toby Dick, you’d be livid. I know you. Hell, we simply gave your slut wife the bone, and you wanted to rip our head off.

  He couldn’t see straight, but movement pulled him from the brink of chaos. Wispy reached for something again. Toby pointed and fired the gun.

  As soon as the shot’s report echoed through the street, Toby’s vision snapped back into clarity. Wispy lay face down on the asphalt, not far from his mother. There was nothing in his hands. Wispy gasped for air, but the man’s face went red, and his eyes were bloodshot.

  Toby walked up to him and crouched.

  “I’m sorry,” he said.

  Wispy tried to say something, but only a bubble of blood came out. Its copper aroma filled Toby’s nose and overwhelmed him. He didn’t need to touch the pool of it near Wispy to know it was still warm. Toby knew as the blood cooled, Wispy’s essence would drain into the afterlife.

  We could use the energy, Love. You didn’t get all you could from his mother.

  “What happens to him if I take it?”

  Who gives a fuck, T.D. Take it.

  Again, a thousand voices joined in a chorus and screamed, laughed, and giggled their agreement. Toby’s world swam, and he threw a hand out to the street to steady himself from falling.

  Bloody hell. Do you always ask so many questions? Are you afraid for this man’s soul?

  Toby thought about it for a moment. Was it the man’s soul, or was it his own soul he was worried about?

  “Tell me what happens to him?”

  You siphon his life energy to replenish your own. Nothing more, nothing less. Now do it quickly before he fades.

  Toby reached out, and the connection snapped into place. The familiar shock ran through his body, and it was as if he turned a valve. Wispy’s essence flowed through him. The man’s sorrow washed through Toby’s body. He broke down in tears. All the pain and rage the man felt from losing his mother saturated Toby’s heart and made it heavier than lead.

  Good. Now imagine you have a barrel in your stomach and fill it up.

  Toby did as Jezebel asked, and the barrel…

  …whisky cask, Toby Dick, let’s get our crazy imaginary containers correct…

  …whisky barrel filled up with aged single malt. He could almost taste it on his lips, strong and bold. When he was finished, so was Wispy. Wispy’s ashes lay in a pile on the asphalt. The sorrow disappeared after he closed the connection, and Toby was happy to let it go. The sadness gave way to exhilaration as Wispy’s life fueled his own.

  Toby let out a quiet chuckle as he got back in his car. He felt good. It should have scared him, but it didn’t.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Evard stumbled and almost fell to the street. His chest constricted like a python had crushed him. Each breath was a thousand razor blades that slid across his lungs. His fingers went numb, and the tingle crawled up his arm. His vision tunneled, and everything went dark.

  “Mommy, I don’t feel too good,” Sebastian said.

  Evard thought he might pass out, but as his knees wobbled, his vision snapped back to normal. Feeling returned to his arm and breathing came easier. He couldn’t tell if he’d just had a minor heart attack, but it didn’t matter. He almost died.

 
“What’s wrong, honey?” Linda asked.

  “Nothing, I guess. I felt sick for a second. But I’m okay now.”

  Evard shuffled to a nearby truck, flipped the tailgate down, and sat. He focused on breathing and tried to calm his senses. Doyle stood nearby and kept a watch out for anything dangerous while Linda and Sebastian tried to stay warm. The sun completed its descent, and the last rays of light tipped to the heavens before they too disappeared.

  Evard thought he could move now with little chance of dying and scooted off the tailgate. His body ached in ways he didn’t believe possible, which made it difficult to walk. He wanted to crawl into a bath and soak for hours. Perhaps, the warm water would wash some of the pain away. Unfortunately, they needed to get out of the open and find somewhere safe for the night. He opened his mouth to express the sentiment when a pinpoint of energy sprung to life in his head. Evard recognized the sensation and smiled.

  “I think Toby’s nearby,” Evard said.

  “Daddy!”

  “How do you know that?” she asked.

  “I can’t explain it, but I can feel him,” Evard said.

  Linda looked to the ground and then back up to Evard. She opened her mouth, but no words came out.

  “He’s close,” Evard said.

  “Me too, Mommy. He was hurt, but now he’s okay.”

  Doyle walked closer to the group but kept his gaze toward the church. He double-checked the revolver and ensured it was loaded. He then moved the gun around in the air in erratic circles while making a whoosh noise before he holstered it in the duct tape trench coat. Sebastian giggled.

  “I figured as much. You guys share a strong connection. The gene passes from father to son. I assume your father had the talent as well?” Doyle said.

  Evard nodded.

  “He could move objects with a thought. Use to scare the living daylights out of my mother. She left shortly after she found out. When she discovered I could do things as well, she left me at his house. Said, we could both burn in hell together.”

  Doyle put a hand on Evard’s shoulder. Linda hugged Sebastian close.

  “Magic is something you’re born with. It’s up to the person to figure out how to use the gift. For good or for bad, it’s nothing but an extension of the person,” Doyle said.