by M. K. Gibson
How big?
“Cosmic level,” she sent.
High in the sky, past the clouds, I could barely make out the faint outlines of the meeting table of the gods. And the table was positively packed with the gods who did not care for me. Sitting there, next to The One, was Sophia.
Well . . . shit. That wasn’t good.
Any idea which way the gate to the Prime Universe is? I asked.
“Hold me,” Lydia’s spirit commanded.
The gun was tucked into my waistband. Removing her, I felt the weapon grow warm as she searched The Bliss, looking for the way home. I felt a tugging, pulling my arm down past the mouth of a narrow valley.
“That way. Many miles away, but that way. When you get close, You will feel an instinctive pull. Like a compass. Your very essence will be drawn to the realm from where it came.”
Thank you, I told her.
“Save her, Jackson. Raise her well,” she sent.
“I will,” I said aloud, then tucked the weapon back into my pants.
“JACKSON BLACKWELL,” the voice of Sophia boomed from all directions.
Evie grabbed her ears and screamed.
“Hey!” I yelled into the sky. “You mind?!”
“Sorry,” she said, this time at a respectable volume.
“Thank you,” I said with a nod. “I realize you’re mad and most likely plan to try to stop and/or kill us. Your eternal vengeance on me and the Blackwell family and all that. But show some respect for the kid’s sensitive ears. She’s mortal now. This will take a period of adjustment.”
“Look, I said I was sorry,” Sophia said, daring to sound indignant.
“Whatever,” I shrugged. “Look, I know you’re up there filling The One’s head with all kinds of bad ideas. But I know the rules.”
I pulled out the pocket watch The One had given me. While not much time remained, it showed that I still had The Blessing of The One. “See this? For now, none of you higher beings can attack me directly.”
“That . . . is true,” Sophia said.
“So what is it then? Let’s hear it.”
“It’s simple,” she said. “If you can make it to the portal back to the Prime Universe, you and your wretched little spawn may live out the remainder of your days in relative peace. But never again will you know the power of godhood. You shall, for the remainder of your days, desire the thing you cannot have. No matter how much you achieve, no matter how much you accumulate, it will never be enough. You, Julian Jackson Blackwell, without me, can never be a god again.”
“You said if we could make it.”
“I did, didn’t I,” Sophia’s voice said with an amused tone. “You have a little over a hundred miles to the gate back to the Prime Universe. On a swoop bike, that shouldn’t take long at all.”
“So, what’s between me and the gate?”
As if she were waiting for the question, I felt all of The Bliss rumble and shake. Portals of every size and shape opened. In the sky. On the land. Rifts into many worlds suddenly vomited forth all manner of otherworldly creatures from across the multi-verse.
“Well, I guess that answers that,” I said with a begrudging nod. “So if I make it, I’m no longer a god. If not, we die.”
“Yup. Either way, I get my vengeance,” Sophia said smugly. “It’s what’s I call a win-win.”
Well, I couldn’t argue with her. Especially since dragons and elves, zombies and werewolves, angelic beings and Never Realm denizens, futuristic soldiers and big-headed aliens, complete with shiny chrome anal probes, were now pouring into The Bliss.
At least, I think they were anal probes. They looked a lot like the ones Lydia kept in her bedside drawer.
Gods above and below, I missed that woman. Rectal violations and all.
I rested my hand on the spirit gun, allowing it to see though my eyes. It looks like we’re in for a bit of a run.
“That it does,” the fragment of Lydia’s soul sent. “Can you do it? Being mortal now?”
I looked over the landscape as more and more creatures and throwaway characters from every genre flooded The Bliss. High above, through the cloudy sky, I again saw the High Table, and the gods there. They were using their respective power to summon creatures to The Bliss for one purpose.
Me.
No . . . not me. Us.
I reached over my shoulder and rubbed at Evie’s cheek.
Well, doesn’t look like I have much of a choice, does it? I sent.
“No. It doesn’t. You better save our little girl, Jackson.”
I nodded. Then, despite the chaos before me, and the child strapped to my back, I reached into my suit jacket and pulled out a cigarette. Such a simple, stupid thing at a time like this. And of course, my daughter and I were both human now. But considering what I was about to do, two minutes of smoke was acceptable.
Lighting the black cigarette with the silver filter, I took a deep pull and just . . . was. I took in the scene. The Bliss was supposed to be a place of ethereal, and unattainable, joy. Now? It was a war zone. The various creatures pouring in did not take kindly to one another. They were confused and angry. They began fighting.
The gods, no matter how angry they were at me, could not attack me directly. Hence their minions. But without proper coordination, all disparate armies turn on one another. Sure, they’d kill me and Evie given the chance; their respective deities no doubt instilled a seething hatred for us. But they would also be busy fighting one another.
Nearing the end of my cigarette and considering my situation, I pondered the immortal words of Alfred Lord Tennyson and “The Charge of the Light Brigade.” You see, my pack of junior college dropouts, “The Charge of the Light Brigade” was a poem written in 1854 that nobly recounted the charge, and death, of British light cavalry led by Lord Cardigan against Russian forces during the Battle of Balaclava in the Crimean War.
The famous poem had immortal lines like
Theirs not to reason why,
Theirs but to do and die.
Into the valley of Death
Rode the six hundred.
And
Honour the charge they made!
Honour the Light Brigade,
Noble six hundred!
But I’m here to tell you that is complete and utter horseshit. Winners don’t die. And when I was done, let the poets write my tale. The tale of a villain and his daughter who rode through a living hell in the land of paradise and defeated the gods.
They could call it “The Last Ride of the . . . um . . . Shadow Master . . . Who . . . Won”?
Aww, fuck it, I thought as I flicked my cigarette away and revved the engine. I was a villainous criminal kingpin, not a poet.
All I knew was that I had a hundred miles to home and monsters were in our way. I had a fusion-powered bike, a laser gun with the soul of my dead wife, and half a pack of cigarettes. I was in heaven and I had a kid on my back.
“Daddy?”
“Yeah, Evie?”
“Hit it.”
That’s my girl.
Chapter Forty-Five
Where I Am on the Run, Get a Plushy, and Need New Underwear
It was getting dark in The Bliss as we rocketed past a trio of ogres who fought with several steampunk ground soldiers wearing WWI doughboy coats and full-face gas masks. The anachronistic lads fired off lightning-charged muskets while the thick-skinned ogres roared in anger and attacked them with crude clubs.
As The Soul Taker shot by them in the confusion, one of the humans in the gas mask spotted us and opened fire. I swerved as hard as I could, banking around the corpse of a werewolf who’d gotten into a tussle with a battle droid. The blast singed the side of my left shoulder, and I nearly lost control. Grunting, I managed to maintain our course through the rolling hills of The Bliss.
The wound from the lightning gun was just the tip of the iceberg. We’d already been accosted by mutant raiders from a post-apocalyptic world, and I’d gotten clipped by wayward buckshot. Two small cross
bow bolts had found a home in my outer right thigh when we had to fight our way through that elvish blockade on the edge of the forest. I had a nasty gash over my right eye from when one of the Lesser Deep had crawled up from the swamp and tagged me with a lucky strike. And I don’t even want to talk about the burns along my left side, let alone the torn and tattered state of my suit, thanks to that urban fantasy wizard and his ridiculous fireball wand.
The good news was that despite my aches and pains, Evie was safe. The bad news was we’d only made it roughly fifteen miles.
That’s it. A hundred-mile trek to our portal home, and we’d gone a grand total of fifteen miles.
When we reached a pocket where the fighting seemed to cease, I pulled the bike into a small copse of trees. I tapped the earpiece. “What’s the status on that low-yield nuke?”
“I’m trying, Mr. Blackwell!” Morakesh said. “But every time I try and call and transmat your better weaponry, there is an override block.”
“Sophia,” I growled. “She knows my arsenal almost as well as I do. She’s somehow blocking us.”
“Appears so, Mr. Blackwell.”
“Well, what can you send?” I asked.
In a puff of black smoke, a stuffed plushy skeleton appeared in my hands.
“Huh,” I said, looking at the toy. “I applaud the effort, but I don’t see how this is tactically advantageous.”
“Mr. Bone Jangles!” Evie said from over my shoulder. “Gimme gimme gimme!”
Sighing, I handed the toy over my shoulder and was rewarded by gleeful coos from my happy daughter. “Here you go, baby. And here I was afraid we might die here. Possibly crushed, maimed, shot, or melted. But Uncle Morakesh ensured our survival because we have . . . Mr. Bone Jangles.”
“That’s what I’m trying to tell you, Mr. Blackwell. Anything you’d consider useful, be it a weapon or a vehicle, has already been tagged by Mr. Sophia as non-transmittable.”
Well . . . that’s ducky.
“So, in order to survive, you can only trasmat non-lethal items?”
“It appears so, Mr. Blackwell. How are you holding up?” the lich asked.
“Not good, Morry, not good,” I admitted while I caught my breath. I pulled out the pocket watch and grimaced at how little time I had left.
“I’m mortal now, and I’m tired. I’m hungry and I have to use the bathroom. These are not things I appreciate. And on top of all that, I have this horrible sensation that’s unfamiliar to me.”
“Which is?”
“Doubt,” I said.
“You carry on your back the only reason you need to set aside doubt and get this done,” Morakesh said with surprising strength. “Godhood or no godhood, you are the Shadow Master. I didn’t suffer this long in your waiting room to gain an audience with you because you were a god. I did it because of what is in your mind, heart, and soul. There, in the blackness of your being, lies a villain who succeeds where no other can. So, if you have to beat them by stuffed animals, garage sale junk, or the contents of your pantry, then find a fucking way.”
I nodded, taking in Morakesh’s actually sage advice. Of course, I would have to dismember him at a later date for the way he spoke to me. But I could not find fault with his words.
“You are right. I thank you, Dread Lord Morakesh.”
“You are welcome, Mr. Blackwell. So if I were you, I’d find a way to create a large distraction so you can travel as fast as possible.”
“Do you have any suggestions?” I asked.
“Stop ver you are!” a German voice, amplified by some kind of sound system, called out from the sky. I looked up just in time to be nearly blinded by several spotlights shining down on our position. High in the sky, a small fleet of zeppelins hovered about two hundred feet off the ground. Despite the bright light, I counted at least four of them flying in a tight circle above us.
How did I miss that? Sigh. The stress of humanity was causing me to lose my edge.
Holding my arm up, I saw that the lead zeppelin was flying the colors of Lord Astroth du Cynfael and Lady Sabine ‘un Thessalia from Zahnstadt. Well, isn’t that a callback. Needless to say, I was in no condition to fight off master vampires.
From along the railing of the lead zeppelin, I saw a large, dark figure clad in finely crafted and expensive black clothing befitting a noble of Horreich. The figure opened his arms wide and leaped from the zeppelin’s balcony. As he fell, he transformed into a swirl of shadow and swarm of bats. The inky cloud of airborne rodents landed before me and reformed . . . into Wraith Knight?
“Well, I will admit, I’m surprised,” I told my former minion. “It seems like you’ve landed on your feet. Well, not initially. How did you survive that fall? Speaking of, I’m assuming there’s no hard feelings?”
Vampire Wendell said nothing. Instead, he just smiled, flashing me his new white fangs. Then the silent sunnuvabitch struck me so hard against the side of my head, I was practically thrown from The Soul Taker. I hit the ground hard, doing my best to keep myself from rolling over and crushing Evie.
My daughter, scared by the violent attack, screamed. But thanks to my concussion, she sounded like she was a mile away. Before I could do anything in response, I felt myself being lifted up off the ground. I heard a tearing sound and then felt the straps of the Baby Bjorn backpack being ripped off me.
“Evie!” I yelled, reaching for my child. I was rewarded by the kick of a finely polished leather boot against the side of my head. The blow flipped me over and sent me twirling into a nearby tree.
I had loose teeth, and blood flowed from my nose and mouth. My left eye was nearly swollen shut, and I was pretty sure no less than seven drops of piss had leaked out.
And at least one shart.
Raising my head as best I could, I saw Wendell standing there, cutting an elegant evil figure. He held Evie in one hand and a communications device in the other.
“Tell them that I have him. Horreich has claimed the prize,” Wendell said. “The rest will come for us. Prepare the ships.”
Wendell put the comm box into a hidden pocket of his cloak, then set Evie down.
“Hey there, E.”
“Wendy!” my daughter said, excited to see her former playmate.
Wendell tousled her hair, then looked down to regard me in the way a noble regards a peasant.
“Jackson,” he said with all the confidence in the world. “It pleases me to know that from this moment until your dying day, you will forever be my servant.”
Somewhere, over the din of battle and war, I swear I heard Sophia giggle.
Chapter Forty-Six
Where I Discuss My Reading Habits, Channel the Good Han Solo, and Take Advantage of Angry Boners
There are certain things we do not expect to hear. Sure, life is long and full of wonder, so it is foolish not to expect the unexpected. The impossible happens all the time. Or so I’ve gleaned from romance novels.
Don’t judge me. According to that old woman on the Titanic, a woman’s heart is a deep ocean of mystery, and as a villain, I need to learn those secrets.
But anyway, hearing my former minion tell me that I would be his servant until I die? Well, that ranks up there with someone saying “Don’t worry, it’s not contagious.”
“You’ve got to be kidding,” I said while I spit blood.
Vampire Wendell knelt down so that he was eye level with me. “I should thank you. Abandoning me to die in Zahnstadt was actually the best thing you ever did for me. Your vampire hunters killed off many of Sabine and Astroth’s court. Once it was all over, they needed to replenish their ranks. Instead of killing me, they turned me. And once they sampled my blood, they realized I had been touched by a god. I became . . . exalted among the court.”
“Well bully for you,” I sneered.
“And once Branwen returned to her realm, she was furious. She came to me in a vision and explained everything. But with you rescinding your godhood, you actually helped her cause. I was tasked by her directly t
o bring you back to Horreich. You see, whichever universe brings you to heel will be granted a boon. As such, I have been promised great power from the Raven Goddess should I be the one to toss you at her feet. For your sins against her, the dark mistress would greatly like some of your time.”
“Terrific,” I said. “Don’t know if she heard, but I’m newly single. I’m sure we can--”
Wendell grabbed me by the throat and stood. His enhanced vampire strength was so great that he held me aloft as if I weighed nothing.
“The things I’m going to do to you,” Wendell sneered.
“Wendy, stop!” Evie said.
Wendell looked over at the little girl. “Sorry, little one, but your daddy’s been very naughty.”
With casual ease, I was tossed back onto the hard ground.
“Once we return to my new home, things will be better,” Wendell said to Evie. “I will see to that. You will be a princess forever.”
“Wendell,” I croaked while trying to gasp for air.
“Yes?”
“While I’m sure you have a whole rant ready, seeing that you’re a new villain and all,” I said, rubbing at my throat with my left hand, “this story has already gone on too long.”
“I agree,” he said. “Your time is at an end.”
“Not yet,” I said shaking my head while I rubbed my left side with my right hand. “Wow, I think you broke some ribs.”
“Good.” Wendell smiled.
“No, seriously, we’re reaching the end of the main story and the last thing people want is for me to go up to your zeppelin and hang out there for gods above and below know how long. You radioed your allies because you have me? Which means everyone will swarm on this position?”
“Precisely,” Wendell said. “It is time to go.”
If I hadn’t been in head-to-toe pain, I would have rolled my eyes. “Oh, come on. I would eventually figure a way out in the confusion, and then take your hijacked airship to my portal.”
“Not if I break both your arms and legs,” Wendell said with a smile.
Huh. “Yes, that is an option.” I nodded. “And you are faster than me.”
