Shadow of a Doubt

by Hunter Blain

  “I have to agree with the doc on that one, guys,” I said. “I would like as many minds on the problem of the darkness plague as possible.” Ludvig nodded a few times as a thought came to mind. “Oh, I was stabbed in the face by one of those dark elf bastards, and I could feel the darkness spreading in my skull. Then I—how do I say this—siphoned a fission bomb into myself, and it kind of…cured me, I guess. Don’t know if that helps or not, but that’s what happened.”

  “Yes, that is very good information. Thank you, John,” Doc Jim said as he picked up a black handle that looked to me like a knife hilt, and a digital screen came to life, much like a wrist-phone. He began typing with incredible ease, destroying all myths about old people and technology. Then I wondered how old he really was, considering the vial of life-extending juice he had given to me for Father Thomes.

  “Ah, shit. Father Thomes,” I said as if remembering I had left the oven on.

  “What about him?” Locke asked.

  “We need to see him after Lackylass.”

  “Lachesis,” Locke corrected.

  “Right, that’s what I said. After we visit Lockness, I want to stop by the church and see how he’s doing. Carry on, good doctor!” Doc Jim didn’t even register my farewell, being so engrossed in the information about the fission siphoning.

  With a shrug and a “Meh,” I made my way through the glass-covered lobby and into the parking lot with Locke in tow. We stopped in unison and gawked at the Hummer. The drow had done a serious amount of damage in the few seconds they had had before I had whooped the shit out of all of them with no problems at all.

  The entire front bumper was gone, along with both quarter panels. Even the metal hood had indentations and holes from where powerful elven hands had almost gotten to the engine itself.

  I let out a long whistle as I called out, “Shotgun,” and jogged to the passenger side. It was locked.

  Locke hadn’t moved, anticipating the problem using something called, “thinking ahead” or some such bullshit. Maybe it was “common sense.” Either way, we didn’t have the keys.

  “Hey!” I called out as a light bulb sprung to life over my head. “Depweg ripped all of his clothes off. I bet the key is back in there.”

  “I’m willing to bet you are right. But are we really wanting to drive around Houston in that?” Locke waved a finger over the very noticeable damage. “The thing already stuck out like a sore thumb. And now…”

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah. I get ya. And who came up with the sore thumb saying? I bet it was a carpenter who sucked with a hammer or something.”

  Locke ignored the question before suggesting, “We might need the guys to help summon a doorway.”

  “Wait! I have another suggestion.”

  “Oh? Well, let’s hear it, smarty-pants.” As Locke insulted me, I felt closer to him, as if doing so meant we had transcended to the next level in our relationship.

  “How about I show you instead,” I said with an excited smile as massive, reptilian wings sprang from my back with a whoosh. I stood, chest puffed out and fists on hips as I turned my head in a classic superhero pose, trying to look out of the corner of my eye to see Locke’s reaction.

  “Holy shit!” he cried out as his hands flew up in surprise.

  “Damn right. Now come ’ere. Show me where we are going.”

  As he approached, I noticed my bloodwings were real now. I folded one in front of my body and ran my hands over the thick leather, noticing a few small white puffs that I picked off with ease.

  “Neat,” I said while letting the wing rest behind me again. “I freaking love this armor!”

  “Don’t suppose I could try it o—” Locke began as he approached.

  “HA! Nope,” I interrupted as I pushed on one of his shoulders, turning him around. I stuck my arms around him just under his armpits and clasped my hands around his chest before I whispered into his ear, “No homo,” before giving his neck a tender little kiss and then launching into the air.

  I might have thrown a little too much force behind my initial launch because Locke began screaming at a pitch that was so high I thought Depweg and the neighborhood dogs might be the only ones able to hear him within five miles.

  The clouds rushed to meet us, and I stopped just under their cover while Locke trembled in my arms. I probably could have taken it easier on him and flown at a more reasonable pace, but what fun would that have been.

  “Where we going?” I asked loudly so Locke could hear me over the whipping wind.

  “O-o-over that way,” Locke said, pointing to the northern horizon while shaking.

  “What’s wrong, scaredy-cat?”

  “Co-co-cold.” Steam billowed from his mouth before being carried off by the strong wind.

  Oh, right. High in the air, in a constant wind, while the Seelie Court is out of commission.

  I focused on where he had pointed and began flying while pulling him a little closer for warmth.

  In short order, Locke pointed down to a small shack with decaying wood paneling that had once been coated in yellow paint. A sign sat by the road that read, “Psychic: Tarot, Palm, Aura Readings.”

  We landed—super gently, I might add—at the end of the dirt driveway. Locke picked himself up off the ground from where he had lost his footing or something and glared at me.

  “What?” I asked innocently.

  “Couldn’t you have just crashed directly into the ground? It would have been a softer landing!” he scolded angrily as he patted his clothing, sending puffs of dirt into the air.

  “I’m fine,” I countered, signaling up and down my body with one hand dramatically.

  “You also have a stronger physical constitution than I do.”

  “Yeah, I did put all my points into strength and charisma.”

  “Too bad you didn’t save any for intelligence,” Locke whispered as he turned to regard the house.

  “What was that?”

  “Hmm? Oh, nothing. Shall we, then?” Locke said dismissively as he approached the house.

  “You have got to be kidding me,” I said as I looked around at the ramshackle of a house that looked like it had been built when people bought everything from the Sears catalog—the Amazon of its day.

  “It’s not like she’s a wizard advertising in the newspaper or anything,” Locke epically commented.

  “I see someone found my book collection in my absence.” A thought struck then. “You, ah, didn’t go through my drawers, did ya?”

  Locke didn’t answer or look at me as we approached the front door.

  “They were Lily’s,” I said lamely, like telling the cop that the pants you were wearing weren’t actually yours and you had no idea where those drugs had come from.

  “Oh, I’m sure the strap-on was indeed hers,” Locke said awkwardly.

  “One time, jeez,” I let out just above a whisper.

  A quick chuckle escaped Locke’s mouth before we stood on the rickety landing. I retracted my wings as I realized they might be an odd sight when meeting someone for the first time.

  After a few moments of silence, I asked, “Are we going to knoc—” before the door opened.

  A small, lean black woman the color of midnight stood in the doorway. Dreadlocks decorated with gold rings hung down just past her shoulders, while milky eyes that were pure white ran up and down my body. She clasped arthritic hands—that reminded me of Father Thomes—on a cane that supported her lightly hunched frame.

  She spoke with a thick African accent as she said, “You stink of doubt.”

  “It’s Old Spice, actually,” I retorted with perfect comedic timing.

  “Locke,” she drawled out, putting emphasis on the “k” sound with a click as if the word had spoiled in her mouth.

  “It’s a pleasure to see you again, Lachesis,” Locke greeted sincerely with a slight bow.

  “In wit you, den.” Lachesis turned and disappeared into the darkness of her home. I could hear the cane thwacking the ground with
every other step. Locke followed confidently, leaving me alone on the stoop, confused.

  “John, come on,” Locke instructed without turning around.

  With a grumble, I stepped into the home and traversed the tight, dim corridors that smelled of incense. I came to a section of the house I assumed was the dining room, where Lachesis was already sitting and Locke was pulling out a chair.

  “No. Only him,” Lachesis said with a pruney, sinewy finger pointing directly at me. What bothered me was she had done it without moving her milky eyes.

  Being the smartass that I was, and finding myself in a situation that was definitely out of my comfort zone, I did what a John must do; I sat down, leaned forward, and waved my hand in front of her face.

  Locke, without further explanation needed, made his way down the hallway and outside. The door clicked shut behind him.

  “Why just me?”

  “Payment is required from all who hear. Right now, he cannot afford to pay my price.”

  “What is your price for me?” I asked, surprised to hear how unsure I was at that moment.

  “Dat,” Lachesis answered, pointing at my chest.

  “What?” I asked in confusion as I looked down while my hands patted my chest. One landed on the silver crucifix around my neck, and I looked up in shock. “My silver cross? You can’t be serious.”

  “Dead serious,” she responded flatly while holding her hand out. I sat frozen for a few breaths before lifting the chain above my neck and dropping the pendant in her awaiting hand. I supposed Father Thomes could just make me another one so I could get past his defenses.

  Without a word of thanks, she pulled her hand back, where it disappeared under the table before reappearing again, empty.

  “What now? Don’t you need a crystal ball or somethen?” I asked, a tad less politely than intended. Or maybe it was the perfect amount of rude. I didn’t like giving up things that belonged to me, especially to people who seemed entitled instead of appreciative.

  “Give me your hands, child.”

  “Okay, Mom,” I answered with a roll of my eyes as I placed my hands on hers. They were cold, and her skin felt like old leather that had been moisturized and taken care of, but was still ravaged with unforgiving age.

  Her face scrunched as she concentrated, running her thumbs over the backs of my hands.

  “I cannot see your future. Hmm, but I can see your past. Yes, der it tis. Oh!” she cried out in surprise as if stung by a bee.

  “What?!” I asked, now incredibly interested in what she had to say.

  “You have killed the ones that you loved.” Tears began to build in the corners of her eyes as she spoke. “Da gave you the gift of life and protection. He loved you like a son, John. He was very proud of you.” I was having trouble believing what she was saying, even though she knew my friend’s name and what he had done. “Yes, he was proud, though you annoyed him so greatly.” Never mind; this was real.

  “It is dis gift he has given you that is preventing me from seeing your now and your future, child.”

  Something tickled the back of my forehead and I said, “I can remove it, I think.” As I finished, I pulled my hands back while willing my gauntlets into existence. One after the other, I slowly, purposefully, removed them, setting them on the edge of the table close to my chest. I felt something give way inside me that I couldn’t explain, and I felt…at peace.

  I placed my hands back into hers, resuming the session now that I had removed my protection.

  “Let us start at the now,” she said, resuming her rubbing over my hands. “Hmm, the angel spoke true.”

  “About what? The black hole?”

  “Yes, child.”

  “So how do I stop it? He didn’t exactly give me a clear answer,” I said, inching forward to the edge of my seat. I could feel how intensely I was scowling from concentration, as if in doing so I would absorb the answer more readily.

  “You must believe in yourself.”

  “What the hell does that mean?”

  “Our doubts are traitors, and make us lose the good we oft might win, by fearing to attempt.”

  “Wha—”

  “Dere’s more. Your greatest strength is also your greatest weakness, John. To grow stronger, you must make yourself weak.” As she spoke this part, I was aware that her pupilless eyes were staring directly into mine.

  This took me aback as I realized, with complete clarity, what she meant.

  Changing the subject, I asked, “And the darkness? Can Joey and Dawson be saved?”

  She looked into the air between us, squinted, then shook her head. “No, child, not both. But the darkness can be taken as well as given.”

  “How?”

  Her face burst into an expression of horror as her white eyes shot all around the room. Gaping mouth let wordless syllables fall from it, coming out as incoherent squeaks. A violent wind birthed from nothing and began swirling in the room like an eager tornado. Cabinet doors flapped open and closed like a school of piranhas’ jaws on a slab of beef. Dim lights began flashing like it was a rave party. Cracks formed up the walls as if watching a bolt of lightning in slow motion.

  “NO! Please, no!” she croaked loudly as if in indescribable pain.

  “WHAT?!” What do you see?!” I cried out over the din.

  Her accent dropped and her voice changed, not matching her animated expressions at all, as if someone else were speaking through her. “You kill more of the ones you love,” said the eerily calm, dreamlike voice that pierced the howl of the wind as if it were a gentle breeze. Her head rocked to the side as if she were trying to see behind her, dreadlocks floating in the air as if they were underwater. “Countless will die by your hands. Men, women, even children will be punished.” Her face shot skyward with flickering eyes. “You are being kept in the dark by those you trust.”

  She shrieked then, as if being electrified, before crying out in a voice that shook the walls and table, “The gates of Hell will open, abomination, and you will descend to Hell for all eternity!”

  “What happens to Earth?” I screamed, “My friends?”

  Lachesis screamed at the top of her lungs, ripping her hands back away from mine and falling out of her chair to land in a panting heap on the ground. The wind died, leaving a piece of paper to flutter to the ground.

  I stood and rushed to her side, trying to help her up.

  “No! Do not touch me!” she cried out in her African accent, batting my hands away while trying to catch her breath. She was shaking as tears poured down her face.

  Locke burst through the door and ran to find me standing over the collapsed Lachesis.

  “What did you do, John?!” Locke demanded furiously.

  “N-nothing!” I said defensively as I held my hands up to proclaim innocence. I noticed I hadn’t put my gauntlets back on, and I picked them up as I slid my hands into them, feeling the power resume. They vanished once back in place, and I could feel that something in my mind was…wrong.

  Locke rushed to her side, and she took his hands as he helped her up. Once on her feet, and still holding his hands, she looked up at him as if nothing had happened, and whispered, “You have the choice.”

  Locke stopped frantically looking her over to make sure she was alright and froze as he stared into her face. He pulled his hands back as if touching something hot, and Lachesis ended her episode.

  Placing a gnarled hand on the table to support herself, she used her other hand to point to the front of the house and demanded, “Go. Both of you, now.”

  Locke and I looked at each other before he took the lead and went outside. I stopped in the hallway just outside the dining room and asked Lachesis, “Who do I kill that I love?”

  A knowing smile formed on her lips as she whispered, “Are you sure you want to know, child?”

  My head felt numb as I nodded once.

  “I will only give you one answer, and only one answer, to the question you have not paid for.”

 
I held my breath in anticipation of the seer’s answer as I shifted my weight where I stood, nervous to the words she was about to speak…

  “The boy.”

  I became dizzy as what she said struck my head like a semitruck. My knees turned to jelly as my hands slid on the wall, looking for purchase. “No. No! Not Magni! Not after…”

  Lachesis began to cackle from the dining room as I stumbled to the front door, feeling my stomach roll in knots as the world swam around me.

  I barely made it through the front door before turning to slam it closed and resting heavily on it, panting and trying to let my mind settle.

  Locke seemed no better than me as he paced back and forth in front of the porch.

  “Let’s get the hell out of here,” I said as my wings sprang to life. Without waiting for his acquiescence, I grabbed him and exploded into the night sky, ready to get as far away from there as possible.

  20

  We flew in silence back to Doc Jim’s. My mind bounced back and forth between everything she had said like a chew-happy puppy in a room full of toys.

  Believe in myself? Shit, if anything, I believed too much in myself. What did she mean I was going to Hell for all eternity? And…and that I was going to kill Magni. That wasn’t possible. There’s nothing in this world that would make me hurt him after what I’d done already. Lilith, I was going to let him blow my head off because that’s what I deserved, damn the consequences!

  Locke seemed to be having his own internal battle as we traveled because he didn’t say a word, not even about the bone-chilling cold.

  We landed in the parking lot and I retracted my wings. My real wings. My wings that were real because of my celestial armor.

  I stopped and looked down at my body, my armor shimmering into life at my thoughts. My hand gingerly ran over the crimson cross permanently etched into the breastplate.

  “My greatest strength…is my greatest weakness,” I said just below a whisper as I turned my hands over as my eyes traveled up the glowing gold lining. My wandering gaze stopped on the claw marks on my arm, and without thinking, I placed my hand over the marks and willed some of the stored energy to heal the ivory. Bright light escaped through my fingers, making me squint as I watched. As I pulled my hand away, pristine, smooth armor greeted me.