by S T Branton
Then, Brax and I walked on through.
Epilogue
Even the air smelled differently on the way down the old familiar street in Brooklyn Heights. The route wasn’t nearly as busy as it had been only a year or so ago before I knew the word “Forgotten” had another meaning. But the big empty spaces and the slowed pace weren’t unique to my old neighborhood. The whole city was like that now as it struggled back onto its feet from one hell of a dirty fight. JFK was the only major international airport up and running again, and even then, only a restricted number of planes could be cleared for takeoff and landing. Real conversations in the streets were rare but grateful smiles were common.
As New Yorkers, we all took a little of the responsibility to nurture our beloved city back to health. She would never look the same again—that much was undeniable—but she could stand tall and be strong. Her pulse could once again beat through the veins of her streets.
I loved the walk around my old stomping grounds, despite the rubble that edged the streets and the fine white dust left by buildings that had collapsed months before. Enormous sections of the city remained uninhabitable, and popup shelters had sprung up everywhere to accommodate those on the streets. It warmed the cockles of my heart to see New Yorkers step out to help their neighbors during a time when nobody had much of anything.
Lost in my thoughts, I turned from the main thoroughfare onto my street. Green buds had begun to explode on the trees that had managed to survive. Patches of vibrant blue sky showed through the wiry branches. The sun shone brightly although still without too much warmth. All in all, it was a nice day in New York again.
Freaking finally.
I approached Mac’s newspaper stand and hoped against hope that the old guy would be there. He wasn’t and the stack of gradually yellowing papers on his counter was months old, but I still took one off the top and fished a wrinkled dollar from my pocket to leave as compensation. Out of habit, I glanced up and down the street to see if I’d missed him chugging along on his way to open after a suspiciously long smoke break. Mac was nowhere to be found. I hoped he was okay.
The paper was tucked under my arm as I resumed my leisurely stroll toward the shitty apartment building I’d lived in for so long. No Sam lounged under his hat in front of the door, either. A bittersweet pang of nostalgia kicked me in the chest. I wanted to think that Sam and Mac might have moved on and found something else to do or somewhere else to be. I could imagine them trekking through the Forgotten-ravished landscapes I had seen, smiling and drinking in each other’s serene guidance. It was a nice daydream, anyway, but there was no way to disguise the reality that things were tough and they would be for a long time. We were tougher, though. We humans would persevere because after all, some things never changed.
I stepped through the same front door with the rickety overhead light and checked the plastic dome for the same large moth that had laid dead in the bottom for centuries. It was there, and so were the rusty mailboxes that never locked, all predictably hanging wide open. I took the steps to my old apartment on the top floor, which was also unlocked.
It smelled musty and close in there. The first thing I did was go to the windows and yank them open. The place was an absolute wreck. Inches of dust blanketed items that had lain unattended for months. Pieces of my walls and broken furniture littered the floor—leftovers from any number of confrontations, I was sure. Clutter heaped high on the only table. The hot plate was in need of a good scrubbing. A weird smell wafted from the depths of the mini-fridge. The bathroom corner didn’t even have a damn door.
Ignoring all that, I cleared the sofa off with a wide sweep of my arm, sat, and sighed as I collapsed into the cushion. It was like a welcome-home hug, and it felt amazing. Then something strange and furry touched my elbow, and I almost screamed bloody murder.
The cat poked her nose out from behind the couch and jumped up next to me. She was a little scrawny, but she seemed otherwise healthy.
“How’d you get back here?” I asked. I hadn’t seen her since before we’d first arrived at Fort Victory. She meowed at me and purred like a motorcycle engine as she leaned into my hand for scratches and ear rubs. I let her tuck under my chin as I opened the paper. It was all as weird as hell and way too ordinary.
I kind of loved it—at least, for now.
The knob on the janky apartment door turned and Deacon stepped through. He was a vision in a suit, a look that was only enhanced by his other, more unique attributes, as far as I was concerned. After Delano had fallen, many of his more overt demonic features had faded somewhat. I had to say that decent clothes and regular showers really helped. It was hard to believe, but he looked much like he had when he was fully human. He’d reclaimed most of his sleek, sharp style. And of course, he was still the same Deacon I tried so hard not to fall for once upon a time.
“Hey, gorgeous.” He sat himself down on the sofa beside me and worked his arm gently around my waist. I shifted my weight against his chest and settled into the warm contours of his body. “What are you reading?”
“The wanted ads from, like, six months ago,” I said. “I figure it’s about time I got a real job, you know? Maybe start thinking about building a real life.”
Deacon laughed. “You have a funny sense of timing, sweetheart. Money doesn’t seem all that important at the moment. Who knows when we’ll have a working economy again?”
I flipped the page and snuggled deeper into his arms. “It’s not really about the money. I want to set a good example.”
He turned his head down to look at me, confused. I took his hand, the skin still vaguely blue-gray toned and the talons on his fingers neatly trimmed, and I placed it over the middle of my stomach. There were no kicks to feel yet, but there would be soon enough.
I smiled at him. “For the next generation.”
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Author Notes
Written January 28, 2019
Dearest readers,
I’ve been putting off this set of author notes for a couple of days now. Not because I don’t love our little chats, but because we’ve reached book eight.
Vic and friends have won the battle, and it seems that her crew is assembled to watch over a new Pax Terra—Peace on Earth.
Ending a series is tough for Lee and me. In fact, out of three full series we’ve written, this is the first one that we’ve decided needs to have a decisive close. Even as I write this, I keep wanting to hedge my bets, leave an open door for future books in the world of Forgotten Gods. But, lo and behold, I won’t.
Am I going to promise that we will never, ever come back and write more stories about Vic, Deacon, Maya, and the rest of the crew? Hell no!
One never can tell where the winds will blow our creative juices, but let’s all enjoy the victory, exhale, and continue on to the next series to fall in love with—and we have some for you!!
It’s been a little over a year since Lee and I pitched the idea of the gods’ return to Michael Anderle, and since then, we’ve become completely smitten with the characters, the world, and all that Forgotten Gods had to offer.
This has been a really fun run… but I want you to know, the most incredible part of the process is you!
There are authors out there that write their words for the love of the craft. I hear people say they could write their books for an audience of none. Do I get that? Um… sort of. But the truly fun part of it all, what really gets us grinding away through the midnight hours and during lunch breaks and while I wait for my kids at practice is YOU.
So, in this last note in this seri
es, I want you to know that we are forever grateful. We love our readers—those we’ve heard from over the years, as well of the ones we’ll never get a peep out of.
Finally, we started in the world of writing as what is known as “indie authors.” Independent. Self-publishers. But there is nothing “independent” or “selfie” about being an author, whether you’re in the traditional world or not. That’s why we need to offer a big final thank you for the team that surrounds us as well. To the Just in Time reader team, editors, administrative staff, and our incredible cover designer (Hey, Heather!). It’s always a team production, and there were many, many people doing the heavy lifting on this one.
Oh, there’s one last person to thank: ST Branton.
All this time, ST has been tied up in Lee’s basement, wedged between the water heater and a pile of self-help books writing away. He’s a heck of a guy. Almost never complains. A saint, really (get it?).
You might be wondering if we’re letting ST out now. Not a chance! He’s already writing outlines and beats for our next Urban Fantasy, and we are really, really excited about it.
We think you will be too! The working title is The Heinous Crimes of Sarah Slick… Here’s the tagline: “She’s the human that monsters fear at night.” If all goes well, it will be out in the Spring of 2019. Keep your head up and eyes open!
Thanks again for taking the journey with us.
For Kronin,
Chris (and Lee)
PS: We have heaps and heaps of books for you to read and three projects currently nearing publication.
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PPS: If you’ve loved Vic and friends, we really think you’ll fall fast for Hannah in our Rise of Magic series.
Grab the Box Set of the first four books for one low price (or free on Kindle Unlimited)
Also by CM Raymond and LE Barbant
Steel City Heroes Saga
The Catalyst
Buy The Catalyst
The Crucible
Buy The Crucible
The Casting
Buy The Catalyst
Jack Carson Stories
The Devil’s Due
Buy The Devil’s Due
The Devil’s Wager
Buy The Devil’s Wager
The Rise of Magic
* With Michael Anderle *
Restriction (01)
Reawakening (02)
Rebellion (03)
Revolution (04)
Unlawful Passage (05)
Darkness Rises (06)
The Gods Beneath (07)
Reborn (08)
Connect with CM Raymond and LE Barbant
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