by M. K. Gibson
“She . . . did not make it.”
I smiled. “Well, I guess there is a bright side to this after all.”
“I lost my sister, Jackson.”
“And I lost my goddamn daughter!” I barked at the god while still holding my weapon at the god.
“Then let us get her back,” he said.
“How?”
Valliar slowly stood. His legs were wobbly as his body was stitching itself back together. The High God stood before me, and with complete earnestness in his ancient eyes, he said, “We storm the gates of The Nexus Point.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight and a Half
Where I Defend Typos and Am Momentarily Flat-Footed
No no no no NO!
That geriatric amalgamation of Fizban and Sean Connery does NOT get to end two chapters in a row with the dramatic stinger.
Sigh. For those of you who don’t know, a simple writer’s trick (and one also used in episodic television) is to end many chapters with a line or event that makes you, the reader, have to turn the page in order to see what happens next. Typically, this trick is in the form of an insane event or piece of dialogue, like a proclamation, with just enough cool, aloof badassery that makes you say “Shit yeah!” or “Holy shit!” or “What the shit do you mean you killed off so and so?!”
Writers are full of shit.
And so is the scribe who’s recording my adventure. I can just see him now, hammering away at his keyboard like a dim-witted yokel, looking at his hands because he never learned to type correctly. Having to backspace like mad because he can’t spell to save his life and often repeating words and phrases while mistyping “from” for “form.”
My apologies, dear readers. My personal chronicler is something of an oaf. While he has a good heart, he also is riddled with adult ADD. Thank the gods above and below that his editor catches most of the mistakes. Sure, there will be a few typos or mistakes here and there. It’s indie publishing, after all.
Oh, and if you’re one of those assholes who finds a mistakes, then gloats about it, or lambastes the author because of it . . . what’s wrong with you? You know how hard these people work, often in their spare time, cranking out several books a year? What do you do that’s so goddamn special that gives you the right to act so smug? Perhaps I should come to your place of business and point out your mistakes?
Wait . . . what was I originally saying? Man, I swear I had a point to this. Wow, forgive me for derailing the action as we move into the final moments of the book.
Oh, that’s right, the end-of-chapter stingers. No, Valliar does not get to make them; I do.
So . . . uh, yeah. Something cool and aloof that makes you want to turn the page.
Hmm.
Yup, something really awesome. It’s not like I’m wasting time here, filling out the page and word count. Nope, not at all. Oh, and I am totally not looking at my phone, cyberstalking people who leave bad reviews, posting their pictures to secret message boards and plotting their demise.
Oh, fuck it. You caught me at a moment when I’m not glib. So go ahead and turn the page.
In the next chapter, I storm The Nexus Point and shit gets real. There may even be a surprise or two waiting for the ol’ Shadow Master.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Where I Suit Up, Reflect Upon My Personal Growth, and See a Familiar Face
I stood outside my dimension, in the familial backyard. It was quiet. Myst, standing behind me, said nothing. She knew this was not a speaking moment.
My family would never be a family again. Even if—no, when I got Evie back—she would still be without a mother.
A mother I had killed.
Reaching into my coat’s inner pocket, I took out Evie’s drawing of me. Unfolding it, I looked at the crayon image for what to had be the thousandth time. There I was, holding Evie in one arm while shooting aliens with a blaster. And once again, I felt my throat tighten and my eyes grow misty.
Still, not at the drawing. Even this far into my emotional growth, I knew crap-work when I saw it. But I saw potential.
In me, I mean. Not in Evie’s art. Gods above and below, she better get a real degree and not one in art, because frankly, I’d rather burn the tuition money than fund an artist.
No, the potential I saw in myself was to be a better man. A better father. I was already a kick-ass villain and entrepreneur who was, at least according to my last two lovers, pretty okay in the sack.
Hey, they can’t all be winners.
But I could endeavor to be a better person. And for the sake of my child, I would. Yes, I would still advise villains and counsel evil beings. And naturally, all my killings would need to be completely justified. But I could become the best father I could. Because she no longer had her mother.
I folded the picture back up and put it in my suit’s inner pocket and then checked my earpiece.
“You there, Sophia?”
“I’m here, sir,” she said into my comm link. “Are you ready?”
“As I’ll ever be,” I said, stretching my neck. I then checked the various weapons and instruments of destruction I had strapped to my back and legs and belted around my waist. And yes, I was still wearing my suit. As my friend Tim Gettys says, “Fashion over function.”
Over the years, I’d assembled quite the armory of weapons capable of killing gods. Typically taken from other gods who crossed me. Oh, and before you accuse me of ripping off the whole “god who uses other fallen gods’ weapons for his personal rampage” from that third Technomancer book, Angels and the Bad Man, I’ll have you know . . . yeah, I totally ripped it off.
But to be fair, those books, no matter how well written, gripping, gritty, and full of heart, are not nearly as lucrative, or as fun, as my adventures are. That being said, you should totally pick them up. That Gibson chap is going places. But when it comes to ripping off ideas, how did the old adage go? Good authors borrow; great ones steal. Well, I take what I want, because I’m a villain, not some poor writer penning meaningless words for your amusement.
I have people to do that.
Again, thanks for your money. I frequently dangle it over homeless people just for funsies. If they don’t reek too badly, I’ll toss a couple of bucks at them. Away from me, mind you; I don’t want them touching me. They do smell like—well, homeless people.
“So, are we really doing this, boss?” Myst asked.
“Yes,” I said, standing next to her, looking up the hill and beyond my property line.
Right at The Nexus Point.
“What’s the plan?” she asked.
“We breach the entrance,” I said. “No matter what gets in our way, we either remove it or go through it. Once we are in, reality will bend and shift, so be ready for anything. We will need time to locate Evie. So we’ll require a tactical beachhead once we’re inside. Simultaneously, we’ll need location-based intel on the surroundings in order to identify the target.”
“So, what I’m hearing is that I go first to soak up the damage while you look for Evie?”
“Yeah, pretty much,” I agreed.
Myst nodded, accepting her role. “So be it. And do we have an exit plan? Once we have Evie, won’t we still have to contend with, you know, God?”
“It’s The One,” I corrected her. “Think of The One as more like the cosmic caretaker. The one upon which all harmony and balance is predicated. The one tasked with maintaining the constant ebb and flow of creation and destruction, promoting both system balance and entropy as required.”
“So . . . God.”
“It’s like you’re not even listening,” I said with a slow shake of my head. “Muggles.”
“So, are you going to fight ‘The One’?” Myst asked.
“We’ll deal with that when it happens,” I said, trying to sound as confident as I could. The truth was, for once, I did not see the outcome. Once we had Evie, then what? I had a few contingencies, but if The One was behind everything, it wasn’t like it would simply say “Shucks,
you win.”
“Just focus on what’s ahead and let me deal with the rest,” Valliar said, coming to stand next to me.
“So, you’re coming too?”
“Apparently so,” the High God said, his voice resolute.
“Once you leave my realm, The One will know you survived.”
“Do you want me to be your new houseguest for all eternity?”
I shook my head. “Fair point. No, I do not. Okay Myst, new plan. We hide behind him when everything goes to shit.”
Myst nodded. “You got it, boss. Oh, and Jackson?”
“Yes?”
“In case we don’t . . . you know. I just wanted to say--”
“It has been a pleasure knowing and working with you as well,” I finished for her. “You are by far the best agent I’ve ever had.”
“No,” she said with a smile. “I was going to say that sometimes when we were together, Lydia had me change into your form. She really loved you. But thanks for the compliment!”
I didn’t say anything. Because I wasn’t sure if my dead wife’s lover telling me said dead wife preferred a better version of me in bed was something to comment on. Instead, I looked up the hill at the entry to The Nexus Point.
“Are we done stalling, boss?”
“Apparently,” I said, taking the first step off my back porch and into the back yard.
A few more steps and I was across my back yard. My legs, moving on their own, were running hard. I vaulted over my fence and onto the cobblestone path winding up the countryside hill. Now sprinting, I was focused on destroying anything that got in my way, be it Dmitrius or any of his angelic bastard cousins. Between me and my child was an entire universe full of obstacles.
Woe upon them all. For Jackson fucking Blackwell, the Shadow Master, was coming.
My teeth bared, I crested the top of the hill. I let out a guttural roar while summoning the Trident that sunk Atlantis into my hand. The weapon surged with powerful concussive and electrical energies. I was ready to unleash the continent-rupturing force directly into the face, or asshole, of whatever stood before me. I was ready for anything.
I was, however, not ready for an all-too-familiar face to greet me.
Or haunt me, as it were.
“Hi Jackson.”
“L-Lydia?”
“Yes,” my wife said. “I’m sure you’re confused.”
“But you’re dead,” I said, holding the weapon at the ready. “I know. I killed you myself.”
“Yes dear, you did.”
“This is a trick,” I said, not believing it. “I’ve seen waaay too many movies and read far too many mediocre books to fall for this old trope.”
“I know,” the image of Lydia said as it shifted. Before me, Dmitrius stood with a wide smile on his face. “I told them it wouldn’t work on you. But you know how gods are. Sticklers for old hat.”
“Them?” I asked. “Them who?”
“You’ll see,” Dmitrius said with a slight nod over my shoulder. “Do it.”
“And I’m definitely not falling for that old trick. The only one behind me is Myst and Valliar. And they would never--”
Something large and heavy collided with the back of my skull. The force of the blow was backed by some power other than mine. The blow made me see white, and consciousness abandoned me.
As my knees buckled, I heard Myst simply say, “Sorry, boss. They made me a better offer.”
“Y-you’re f-fired,” I managed to say just before Myst, Dmitrius, and Valliar all kicked me in the face and knocked me into darkness.
Chapter Thirty-Nine and a Half
Where I Am Touched by an Angel and Get the Last Word
Waking up was hard. I felt like I was floating outside my body. No matter how I tried to push myself to consciousness, it was like something was barring my way. It was as if there were powerful forces keeping me out of the action.
Come to think of it, they probably were.
“Gods above and below, if this how you conduct yourself in the field all the time?” Lydia’s voice asked. “No wonder our daughter was so easily kidnapped.”
Lydia?
“Well, it isn’t your conscience. That part of you atrophied years ago.”
Heh, that’s the wife I know.
“Knew, dear. Knew.”
So, are you like . . . a ghost?
“A spirit, of sorts,” Lydia’s voice said. “What is the expression? While cat’s away, the mice will play?”
Cat? Are you saying Y’olly?
“Yes dear, I am. That horned bastard sold you, and I, out. He’s thrown in with them.”
Again with this “they” and “them.” Who are you talking about?
“You’ll figure it out, dear,” Lydia said. As she spoke, I felt a warmth in my chest. Like a glowing ball of pure joy.
And considering my line of work, I did not care for the feeling.
What is that?
“My last gift to you, husband. It’s the piece of my soul the Never Realm could not take from me. It is my love for you and for our daughter. Use it. It is all you need. Now, wake up. Save her.”
I can’t, I said. Without this, you’ll succumb to the horrors of the Never Realm.
“If it means saving you and thereby Evie, it’s a small sacrifice. It’s what any mother should do.”
I mentally nodded. I’m not going to like what’s going on, am I? When I wake up?
“No, you will not. And if you mess this up, well . . . ” Lydia’s voice trailed off.
Let me guess, we’ll both be ghost buddies for all eternity?
“Something like that,” she concurred. “Be careful, Jackson. I love you.”
And I love you.
As I felt her spirit leave, I mentally called out. Lydia!
“Yes?”
One last thing before you go.
“Yes Jackson, you were a fine lover,” she sighed. “Oh. Gods. You. Were. So. Amazing.”
No, it isn’t that. It’s something else. Something important.
“Jackson, I can’t hold this connection much longer.”
Just a moment longer, my love. It’s just that I . . .
“Jackson, what?” she asked, her voice now barely a whisper.
There was a moment, just after Evie was born when we went back to Caledon to visit your parents and your sisters.
“I . . . remember.”
In the morning, I watched you standing outside their modest home on that hill, amid the wild flowers, breathing in the fresh air. The sun was rising and the dawning light made you glow. Like an angel. And, I swear, you were never more beautiful than in that moment.
“I’m . . . touched.”
I also slept with both of your sisters.
“You what!?”
At the same time.
And like that, the voice was gone.
I would always hold the memory of my wife dear to my heart. Right next to the spot where I got the last word.
Okay. Time to wake up and kill everyone.
Chapter Forty
Where the Stage Is Set, I Address the Virtue of Independent Media, and I Receive a Non-Surprise
I slowly, painfully, came awake. I was standing, with my head lolled downward. I felt chains wrapped tightly around my body. Opening my eyes, I saw that I was lashed to a column. I had none of the weapons I’d brought. No talisman or totem containing a reserve portion of my power.
Focusing, I saw that I was in some sort of open-air temple, high atop a mountain fortress. Far below, a strange and mystical landscape sprawled outwards in a mix of every genre and of none. As a god, even a minor one, I’d heard of this place within the Nexus Point. It was known as The Bliss. A place that could not exist. All worlds and none, existing in harmony.
Like a freaking hippie commune before human nature takes over.
Somewhere in The Bliss, a gate to all the universes, even the Prime Universe, lay waiting. When there have been stories of people going missing, oftentimes they ended u
p in The Bliss.
Or they just got lost. You know . . . because people are dumb and animals are hungry.
To my left and right, I saw the temple’s alternating white and black marble columns in a circular pattern around a central ceremonial dais. Five smaller circular platforms were spaced around the central dais, forming a pentagram.
And before me, I saw my enemies.
In four of the five outer stone circles I saw Dmitrius, Y’olly, Myst, and Valliar. They stood there, waiting. For what, I wasn’t sure. But something told me they weren’t waiting for me to wake up. The memory of Lydia still drifted in the back of my mind. And deep within my chest, I felt that glowing ball of energy. Her last gift.
Her love. The love for Evie and me.
Beyond them, in the central dais, I saw the source of that love. I saw Evie. She was bound and gagged atop a stone table, and I felt my anger swell. What was to me only days since I had last seen her felt like an eternity. Blessedly, she was unconscious.
Good. I didn’t want her seeing what they had planned nor what I had to do.
I took that moment to take in her features. Her green eyes were closed and it seemed like she was simply sleeping after a hard afternoon of playing. She had her mother’s hair and that made my stomach clench. Her slight tan complexion from my mixed Anglo-Middle Eastern background made her glow like the little golden goddess she was.
In that moment, I memorized her features and form in a way, I was ashamed to admit, I had never done before. In some ways, I should thank these soon-to-be-dead cosmic cockwads. They unknowingly gave me a newfound appreciation for my child. One which all parents take for granted from time to time. And what’s more, they gave me a reason to push myself.
But I could not let myself become . . . emotional. I had to be cold. I had to be ruthless. I had to be the goddamn Shadow Master.
“Well, the gang’s all here,” I said, staring at my captors. “Most of you, it seems.”
“Jackson,” Valliar said with a smug-as-fuck grin on his old wrinkly face. “It pleases me to no end that you are awake.”
