Those Wonderful Toys: Preternatural Chronicles Book 7 (The Preternatural Chronicles)

by Hunter Blain

  After pouring himself a heaping cup of straight coffee without any creamer or sugar, Locke took a tentative slurp of the steaming liquid, and regarded me.

  “Did I wake ya?”

  “You did.”

  “Sorry ’bout that. It was almost lunchtime in France.”

  Locke closed his eyes and blew on his drink before taking another quick slurp.

  Tim had stopped wiggling and looked up at me, impatient toward my lack of puppy affection. He brought up a little paw and patted me on the chest once as if to say, “Hey! Adorable puppy not being petted or smooched on down here!”

  “Oh, who’s a good boy? It’s you, isn’t it?” I asked in my puppy-apt voice as my free hand went up to tussle his ears. Tim responded by playfully trying to nip my fingers.

  “Is there anything in particular you need, or can I go back to bed?”

  “Nah. Just had some time to kill while the lovebirds drove to Germany.”

  “Ah, so we are on the last hub then?” Locke asked before quickly adding in a hushed tone, “Just like Lily instructed.”

  Ignoring his last quip, I responded, “Yeah. And I’m assuming we can expect more of those godlike were-pire...things. Did you find anything on those?”

  “I sent word to the Council, but haven’t heard anything back yet. I suggest we don’t advance on the last base until then.”

  “Might not be a bad idea. But I fear that’ll give them more time to prepare, ya know? Like, maybe they’d set up a nuke as a last-ditch effort.”

  “That wouldn’t surprise me, actually,” Locke agreed after swallowing more of his wakey-wakey elixir. He was perking up with each mouthful.

  “Sooooo...what? We either go in guns blazing without knowing about the were-pires, or potentially give them time to set up an epic trap for us?”

  Locke inhaled to answer when his attention shifted to outside. Following his gaze, I turned—while still holding Tiny Tim—to see a raven posted at the edge of our outdoor kitchen. It was staring at the two of us with reflective eyes that were haunting to look at.

  I tilted my head, and the obsidian raven mirrored my gesture.

  “What the nevermore is this?” I murmured.

  While keeping my eyes on the mysterious bird the color of midnight, I slightly turned my face toward where Locke had moved up beside me, and asked, “I thought you had warded this place so no one could find us.”

  “I didn’t think to include animals, especially in a state park.”

  “I don’t think that’s an animal,” I said, looking back into its knowing eyes.

  Without a reason as to why, I walked to the door and pressed the button to open it.

  Perhaps sensing our trepidation, the bird smoothly and purposefully extended its wings and flapped a few times, flying over my head to land on the big center island of the kitchen.

  I pressed the button again, and the door slid closed.

  Turning to our guest, I pulled Tim a little closer, noting he wasn’t barking. Instead, he was sniffing the air in the direction of the bird.

  “John without the K, you must listen,” the voice of Tezcatlipoca said. It wasn’t him actually speaking, just the perfect mimic of the raven repeating the words it had been told. “Muninn carries with it a secret you must behold. Listen to him, and beware the Cursed One’s movement on the board of eternity.”

  Locke and I stood completely unmoving, watching the bird as it stared back at me, unblinking.

  “Is...is that it?”

  “I guess so,” Locke answered, setting his cup down before crossing his arms and stroking his chin with one hand. The sound of fingers gliding across bristles made me glance at my friend whose body had aged into a young adult. He also stood a few inches taller than me with lanky proportions.

  “So now what?” I asked the room, setting Tim down.

  “I don’t kn—”

  The bird leaped from the countertop, wings expanding to encompass all that I could see, like falling into a tank of crude oil.

  7

  I gasped while shooting my hands out defensively, and noticed I was alone in the dark.

  “Locke?” I cried out, my voice beginning to climb as the old, familiar feeling of panic cracked its knuckles and patted the dust off its shoulders. It was showtime.

  I twirled around in the emptiness, alone.

  Looking down, I could still see my own body, and then noticed I was standing on a scorched landscape.

  Flicking my eyes up, I was somewhat relieved to see the ground had manifested, though it was clearly of a battlefield of some sort. Blackened craters marred the hill I was standing on, with flames the cursed color of Hell eating away at the grass that hadn’t been blown away yet.

  A huge dog the size of a freaking horse sprinted toward a small lake, hellfire eating at its fur and skin. I watched in horror as it slowed down to a canter as its muscles were cooked into jerky. Then it lifted its head in a final whine and dropped to the side, the flames claiming its prize.

  Lightning cracked overhead, illuminating the sky, and I had to shield my eyes as I looked up. No movie could possibly portray how awesome a sight it was to see—what I assumed to be—the God of Thunder flinging his power with abandon. The sound was deafening as the air cracked with each blast. The ground exploded where thick bolts of lightning struck, sending up literal tons of debris as if the ground had been struck by military-grade ordinance.

  Thor hovered in the sky, and in Norse, bellowed out, “BE GONE FROM MY LANDS, FOUL CREATURE!”

  In response, an eerily calm voice smoothly proclaimed, “Not until I’ve taken what is mine.” The volume of the deep voice shook my bones, and I looked up to see the sky was completely filled with a snakelike dragon that slithered through the air with grace despite its massive size.

  “You’ve killed everyone I love, Jörmungandr! What more do you want?!” Thor’s voice was tired, as if his resolve to continue was failing at the utterance of the truth.

  There was movement at my feet, and I glanced down to see two ravens. One was lying lifeless, its beak hanging open and its eyes closed. The other—Muninn, I guessed—was mourning his brother.

  Without warning, Jörmungandr flew into the ground close by, his body disappearing into the billowing dust that was kicked up with his action. The earth beneath my feet bucked and bowed as the last of the serpent disappeared into the haze.

  The smoke and dust began to clear, and I saw a battlefield littered with bodies. A decapitated head with one glassy eye stared at nothing, and I recognized Thor’s father.

  Then I saw him.

  Samael stood clad in the all-white of his leisure suit, the cleanliness a final insult to the Norse gods. He strode confidently from the dissipating cloud of dust without even a speck of dirt beneath his fingernails despite this being a battlefield. It truly showcased that Samael’s power was absolute when not even an entire pantheon of warrior gods could dampen his brow with perspiration.

  The horizon wavered, and I looked up to see something that made my mouth go dry and eyes bulge.

  Ymir stood over a hundred miles tall and was marked with several battle wounds oozing blood. Each drop could have filled an entire lake.

  I had fought Ymir personally and knew how insanely difficult it was to even make him bleed. The fact that this giant was littered with battle wounds while the Lord of Hell didn’t even have a bruise made me gulp. I understood, then, that I stood no chance going toe-to-toe against God’s first creation and once most favorite angel.

  “Thank you, Ymir, that will be all,” Samael casually said.

  The first giant peeled his eyes off of Thor to look at his master, and I could tell there was a hesitant look on his face. It cleared quickly, as if the internal debate as to whether or not to finish the last of the Norse gods wasn’t worth defying the one who had power enough to bring him back to Midgard and even kill Odin.

  Ymir bowed, and then his body began turning translucent as it was reduced to ectoplasm and returned to the e
ther.

  “Jesus,” I mouthed, realizing that Satan had the power to command that much ectoplasm at will. He could probably create an entire army of demons with that amount of control, not even needing the gates to fully open to conquer Earth.

  In the shadows of where the giant had stood was a sight that stole my breath and dropped an anvil on top of my guts.

  Bodies. Countless bodies of the Aesir filled the ground for as far as I could see. Winged horses lay flattened alongside the Valkyries who had ridden them into battle. I was surprised to see various types of elves and dwarfs. Though they didn’t fully encompass what I had seen in Faerie, the resemblance was uncanny.

  Thor hovered in the sky, a little more than a dot from where I stood. I could tell he had on his traditional Norse armor, complete with helm that covered most of his head and flowing red cape. He also had a long, braided beard that drifted across his chest plate whenever he turned his head.

  “What do you want?” Thor asked again, exhaustion and defeat evident in his voice. It sounded vaguely familiar, even in the ancient Norse dialect, but it was hard to focus with all the chaos and death around me. Plus, the Lord of Hell had a commanding presence that made it nearly impossible to peel your attention away from him. It was like when you walked up on a hissing, rattling snake that was curled up and ready to strike. You could give it a wide berth, but you would never turn your back on the deadly creature until you were safely out of view.

  “I only want one thing, puny god,” Samael stated as if the g word was poison on his tongue. His vocal cords mutated into thunder when he finished. “Your life.”

  Samael’s eyes began to glow with hellfire as horns burst through his skull, growing expediently as his beautiful face morphed and distorted. An obsidian weapon made by the Lord of Hell himself grew in fingers that blackened like charred flesh. The double-bladed axe with gladius swords on either side dripped with energetic hellfire that seemed excited to be free.

  Though I already knew Satan had won this battle, I still clenched one fist and rooted for Thor to kick his ass. At the very least, give the bastard a black eye or a bloody nose.

  Thor hefted his hammer, bellowed a war cry, and rained down hundreds of bolts of lightning to strike in one spot.

  “Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!” I whispered to myself as I got more and more into the fight.

  Electricity powered by the God of Thunder pounded Lucifer over and over again, throwing up debris and dust with every strike. I couldn’t even see him after the first attack, but could all but feel the power from Thor’s mighty hammer lashing out at his enemy.

  Panting, Thor dropped his attack and began lowering himself to the ground. Whether it was intentional because he thought he had won or from exhaustion, I didn’t know.

  A strong wind glided across the field, bending flames and directing the dust in the air to diminish, providing a view that made my jaw drop.

  The Lord of Hell stood in his full demon form, hellfire spilling from his sockets as well as dancing from the four blades of his weapon. Even through his grotesque features, I could tell he’d been left unharmed by one of the most powerful elemental attacks I had ever seen.

  Satan’s free hand shot up to grip the air in Thor’s direction. The God of Thunder, who was hovering maybe twenty feet off the ground, began choking while grabbing at his throat.

  Drool laced with blood from the extensive, violent battle streamed down Thor’s thick beard as he clawed at his neck. Thor drifted closer and closer to Satan, who was preparing to strike with his weapon once the Norse god was in range.

  He was only a few feet out of reach when I whispered, “Lilith...”

  Satan froze in place, eyes searching all around, and then turned to snap his intense eyes directly to mine.

  “You...” his monstrous voice rumbled as he dropped the defeated Norse god to the ground. Thor crumpled into a fetal position, sucking in ragged breaths as the most terrifying being in all of creation oriented his body toward me.

  He took a thunderous step forward, the ground shaking beneath my feet, and I became dizzy with the tsunami of fear that swallowed my mind.

  “Um...help?” I babbled as I began taking frantic steps backward, my hands up in a defensive stance.

  Satan blurred and was standing directly in front of me, all ten feet of him pulsing with limitless power and searing heat.

  There was a sonic boom from somewhere nearby, and I watched in horror as Thor took a slipstream away from the fight, leaving me alone with Lucifer.

  Unseen power seemed to waver the air between the corpses of the gods and the morbid angel standing before me.

  Trembling eyes latched onto the beast I knew shouldn’t be able to hurt me. Then again, he also shouldn’t have been able to freaking see me in this memory. But here he was, a grotesque smile morphing his disfigured face as his flames went out.

  Satan leaned forward and down, looked me right in the eye, and said, “Boo.”

  8

  I fell over backward, hitting my head against something hard, and noticed a familiar setting.

  “John! John, are you alright?” Locke asked, rushing to where I lay and crouching to inspect me. “What the hell happened?”

  I pushed myself to my feet, rubbing my throbbing head where it had smashed into the enchanted bulletproof glass, and noticed the kitchen island.

  My scrunched-up features went lax as I got to my feet, looking at the bird lying on its side, motionless.

  Locke noticed what I was looking at, and slowly moved to inspect the dead raven.

  “He...he showed me Satan killing the Norse gods and all their people. Thor...Thor ran away when Satan saw me.”

  “Saw you? He saw you in a-a-a vision?”

  “Yeah, man,” I drawled, looking at the dead bird. Its eyes were closed and beak hung slightly open, just like his brother.

  “Well, wha-wha-what did it mean?” Locke asked, stepping away from the island to lean against the counter where his cup of coffee was no longer steaming.

  “I don’t know,” I said in a hushed tone as I closed my eyes and let my face drop, trying to decipher the meaning. “Why would Tez want me to see this? Was it to show me how useless it is to fight him head-on?” As I finished the thought, I remembered how injured Ymir had been from the battle, while Samael didn’t even have a papercut.

  “Or to let you know that Thor is still alive?” Locke suggested.

  “Hmm,” I thought aloud, something trying to click into place. “Should we try and find him? I mean, I assume he would want to fight against Satan.”

  “And what if he wants his hammer back?”

  “If it means winning, I’m more than willing to even the battlefield. Plus, I bet I could get a nifty wand from Hecate or maybe even Lude.” The piece of the puzzle that was trying to snap into the picture laid out before me jerked once. “Hey! I bet Ludvig will be excited to know that Thor might still be alive.”

  “There’s that, I suppose,” Locke said, deep in thought.

  I watched him for a few moments as he appeared to chew on the inside of his cheek while staring at nothing. Then his eyes lit up in realization.

  “What?”

  “Hmm? No-nothing. Was just...thinking. But, ah, the real question begs to be asked: why is Lucifer killing all of these pantheons.”

  “I would assume the answer is obvious,” I suggested, throwing up one hand before letting it fall on the counter I’d moved to lean against.

  “Right. But most of these gods have been content to remain in the shadows all this time. Something doesn’t make sense here.”

  “I’m still not following,” I admitted, crossing my arms. The material of my trench rubbed against itself as I moved, mimicking the sound of a real leather coat instead of the Fae silk it was.

  “I’m just thinking out loud here, but I feel like we are missing an obvious clue.”

  “Well, if it was obvious, we would have figured it out by now, right?”

  “I say obvious, but wha
t I mean is it will become clear once we view it with hindsight.”

  “Hindsight is 20/20, as they say,” I offered.

  “Actually,” Locke said, coming out of his deep thought to look at me, “ever since the year 2020, that phrase has meant something else.”

  “Huh? Why? What happened in 2020?”

  “While you were in Faerie, a shitstorm of events happened all at around the same time. Riots, looting, a world-wide pandemic, society on the brink of war, a shortage of toilet paper for a reason no one could explain—all pure chaos. I mostly stayed inside, happy I had installed a bidet.”

  “Pandemic? Why haven’t I heard about this until now? How many people died worldwide? Was it in the billions?” I gasped.

  “It was around the same as the flu—including forged numbers to increase hospital funding—even with people wearing masks everywhere.”

  “Wait, wait, wait. People wore masks? Like, everywhere? Not just China where the air is literally poison? Seriously, why didn’t I hear about any of this? I would have totally worn, like, a Hannibal Lecter mask. Oooh! Or maybe gone with the full Jason! Damn, that would have been cool as shit!”

  “For reasons unknown,” Locke began with a roll of his eyes, “everything died down after the presidential election.”

  “You can’t mean it was political,” I asked with my mouth hanging open in disbelief.

  “I do and I don’t.”

  “Not confusing at all...”

  “I do because it was a distraction from something much bigger. But I don’t think the visible layer of mortal politics was to blame. Honestly, I believe them to be as clueless as the normal population.”

  “Well, I can clear this up,” I said, bringing up my phone and selecting Collin’s name from my favorites list. It rang a few times before SAC Baker picked up.

  “Why, hello there, John. It has been a while. How have you been?”