Alterverse

by Keith B Darrell

  “No, no way,” Natasa said incredulously, half in shock and half in amazement. She broke out in a paroxysm of laughter.

  Síofra grew angrier as the laughter continued unabated. “Stop laughing at me.”

  “I can’t help it. The very idea that Artemus would have any interest in… a changeling. You’re a miserable, pathetic creature, like all changelings. No one will ever love you, least of all Artemus.”

  “Shut up! Shut yar gob, ya cow.”

  Natasa continued her derisive laughter. “Does the Irish lass have a wee crush?” she asked mockingly. “Artemus is going to find this hilarious.”

  “I said, shut up!” Síofra lifted a chair and threw it at Natasa. It missed her, striking the wall and shattering. She picked up the jagged wooden chair leg and lunged at the vampire, impaling her with it. Natasa clutched at the ersatz wooden stake sticking out of her chest before collapsing.

  Síofra stood over the body for several minutes, appreciating the silence. She looked at the desiccated corpse as it rapidly deteriorated. Natasa’s shriveled hand still grasped the chair leg protruding from her heart. The changeling shrugged, wondering if Artemus might believe it had been a suicide. She frowned, realizing that would be unlikely. “I need tae leave before he comes back; and I need an alibi.” She slipped out of the apartment, hoping none of the neighbors would spot her.

  A short time later, Síofra found Kaya in the schoolyard. “Where are the half-breeds?”

  “Trying to find volunteers to look for Alaric. They said they’d be back soon.”

  “I changed my mind. Ya were right. The witch-boy is our friend and if he’s in trouble then we need tae help him.”

  Kaya grinned. “I knew you’d come around. Underneath it all, you’re really a good person, Síofra.”

  The changeling sneered. “Yeah, I’m all heart.”

  A cave, in the second level of Hell:

  Alaric knocked on the door of the cave Asmodeus had shared with Chrysanthemum. “Asmodeus?” He entered, followed by Asabi. “We need to depart Hell now.”

  The tri-headed demon slipped a small memento into his pocket. “Sorry, I lost track of the time. So many memories lurking within this cave.” He shook his human head. “Ghosts. That’s all they are now. It’s best to be leaving this behind.” He rose and walked toward the door before pausing. “Wait. I have something for you.” Asmodeus stepped into another room and returned a moment later holding the Devil’s Pitchfork. “This was your father’s, at least for a brief time. He asked me to hold on to it while he was topside. He’d want you to have it.”

  “Poseidon’s trident!” Alaric exclaimed. “It’s been here all this time?” He took it from Asmodeus and could feel the power coursing through it.

  “Phantasos’ prophecy!” Asabi exclaimed. “It came true.”

  Alaric examined the trident in awe. “This was the weapon that defeated the Cyclops, a race of elder gods. In the right hands, it might also be able to defeat the Dark Gods.” He lifted the trident and felt the energy surging through it. “Thank you, Asmodeus. The balance of power is shifting in our favor. You may want to bring an umbrella topside; I forecast it will soon be raining cats and dogs.”

  The Mordecai residence; Sunday evening:

  “It sure was right nice of you to invite us over fer dinner, Detective,” Dr. Jensen said. “Ain’t nothing like home-cooked vittles to warm your innards.” The county medical examiner winked at his wife. “Only reason after all these years I still rush home from work is fer a taste of Adele’s cooking.”

  Detective Mordecai slapped the armrest on his wheelchair. “This hunk of tin hasn’t rendered me completely useless. I still know my way around the kitchen… Even if I have left scratch marks over all the cabinetry.”

  “You’re too ornery to let a bullet slow you down. ‘Sides, I’ve had a hankering fer your pot roast all day.”

  The doorbell rang. Mordecai spun the wheelchair around but Mavis, the precinct receptionist and dispatcher, rose from the sofa. “Stay put, you old warhorse. I’ll get the door.” She walked to the foyer and greeted the guests. “It’s your daughter and her friend.”

  “Monica?” Mordecai called out.

  Sharon stepped into the living room accompanied by a young man. “Sorry to disappoint you yet again, Dad.”

  “I’m hardly disappointed. I’m delighted you came, although I didn’t realize you’d be bringing a date.”

  The vampire grinned. “Oh, he’s not my date; he’s my dinner. But don’t worry, I’m saving him for later tonight.”

  Before Mordecai could protest, the doorbell rang again. Mavis pivoted, returning to the foyer. “Looks like you’ll have a full house tonight, Mordecai.” She opened the front door and Monica Mordecai stepped in, followed by her date. Mavis led them into the living room.

  “Hi, Dad,” Monica said. “Everyone, this is my new girlfriend, Kara Islington.”

  “Girlfriend?” Mordecai’s jaw dropped.

  Sharon’s eyes widened. “Well, this party certainly got interesting fast. I haven’t seen Dad turn that ashen since I came out of the coffin…so to speak.”

  Monica frowned at her sister. “It’s the twenty-first century. There’s nothing wrong with exploring new options.” She turned to her father. “Isn’t that right, Dad?”

  Mordecai fumbled for words. “Of course. You just took us by surprise.”

  “Poor Dad,” Sharon said. “Beset by his children’s lifestyle choices: One daughter turns into a vampire and the other becomes a carpet muncher. That must…” She ran her tongue along her fangs. “Suck.”

  Monica ignored her sister and sniffed the air. “I smell Dad’s signature casserole. I’ll check on the oven.” She motioned to Kara to follow her into the kitchen. Once inside, she closed the door behind them. “I’m sorry about that scene.”

  Kara shrugged. “Meeting the family is always awkward. They seem nice.”

  “My father will come around. It’s a generational thing. That’s why I thought it best not to tell him everything at once.”

  “I understand.” Kara reached for the oven door but her hand turned immaterial, passing through it. “Damn! Concentrate, concentrate.” She strained, and her translucent hand solidified. She pulled open the oven door. “Mmm, the spinach casserole smells delish. Looks like the pot roast’s ready to eat. You’d better carry it into the dining room, though. If it slides through my hands, we’ll have to explain I’m not just a lesbian but a ghost, too.”

  The two young women returned to the dinner party. Monica frowned. “Oh no. They’re talking politics.”

  “All I’m saying is, it was completely reasonable for the Dark Gods to enact the Worldwide Registry of Mortals,” Sharon said.

  “They were simply acquiescing to the vampires,” Mordecai replied. “It goes beyond an invasion of privacy. They’re identifying potential targets. Why else would they be listing registrants by blood type?”

  “Dad, you have nothing to worry about,” Sharon said. “The vampire community is relatively small and close-knit compared to the billions of breathers out there. We know each other and we know our families. No sucker in Vegas is going to sink a fang into a Mordecai.”

  “But what about all the other humans? What about those poor innocents who aren’t ‘fortunate’ enough to have the ‘right’ connections?”

  “The registry is only being used to help track down subversive humans, not innocents.”

  “Not yet,” Mordecai said. “And what about the persecution of witches and warlocks taking place?”

  Monica grimaced. “Can’t we get through one family meal without discussing politics?”

  “Do you think we’ll be safe here for the night?” Tobias Braxton asked his brothers.

  Alastair Braxton frowned. The stout warlock disliked being on the run and it made him unusually irritable. “No place is safe for warlocks anymore,” he said in his raspy voice. “The best we can hope for is to remain one step ahead of the Dark Gods and their servants.�
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  Ezra Braxton gazed about their surroundings. “We were wise to eschew the highways. This farmhouse is well off the beaten path and we’ve easily placed its occupants under a sleeping spell until we depart in the morning.”

  An old crone approached the three brothers. “There are horses in the stable. If we take them, we can halve the remainder of our travel time.”

  “We can’t simply steal from mortals, Drusilla,” Alastair said. “My brothers and I have been practicing law in America since the country was founded. We can’t turn our backs on our most sacrosanct beliefs. As officers of the court we must support the rule of law, not violate it.”

  “The only law is whatever the Dark Gods decide to implement,” the crone replied. “Don’t let your foolish notions of jurisprudence blind you to reality. “

  Alastair Braxton grimaced. “I merely meant we shall have to provide some sort of recompense to the humans. I’ll leave several gold coins so when they awaken and discover their horses missing they’ll feel they’ve received fair value. It’s what the law of equity would demand.”

  “Fortunately we don’t have much further to travel,” Drusilla Twitch said.

  Ezra noticed his brother’s concerned countenance. “You still appear troubled, Tobias,” the gaunt warlock said.

  Tobias grimaced. “I can’t help it. I’m worried about Jonas. He’s just a little boy and he’s never been on his own before.”

  “He’s not on his own,” Drusilla said. “He’s with Emma and knowing her as I do, she’ll protect him with her life. Which hopefully won’t be necessary, because if anything were to happen to Emma our mission would fail and we would all be doomed.”

  “Jonas will do as he’s told and stay out of trouble,” Tobias said. “He’s a good boy. But there are those who would gladly round up and murder all of our kind without regard to youth or innocence.”

  “All the more reason for us to succeed in our endeavor,” Drusilla said.

  “Then, perhaps you should have brought Emma along,” Tobias said. “After all, we can’t pull this off without her.”

  “Which is precisely why she must remain safely hidden until it’s time for Hecate to strike,” Drusilla said. “If Emma knew I had learned Samantha was being held captive she would have insisted on joining us. Samantha may be a prisoner but Mordred will make sure she’s safe and I can take care of myself, but if anything were to happen to Emma – the most vulnerable of our triune – then it would be the end of Hecate.”

  “Hecate is the goddess of all witches and she’ll be our salvation,” Alastair said. “Which is why you should have hidden with Emma and allowed us to make this journey for assistance in freeing your sister.”

  “I’m hardly a child like Emma. I can take care of myself. Besides, by now every witch and warlock is aware of the Dark Gods’ crackdown on witchcraft and its practitioners – and that includes my parents. They’ll be too paranoid to trust anyone other than their daughters. Would any of you really consider approaching Phineas or Matilda Twitch alone?”

  Alastair Braxton gulped. He shot a glance at his brother Ezra. The gaunt warlock looked away, as did Tobias.

  “I thought as much,” Drusilla said. “The only thing they’ll like less than being disturbed is learning that their daughter is being held captive. With their help, we should easily be able to liberate Samantha, and once Samantha and I reunite with Emma we can merge into the goddess Hecate.”

  “And then what?” Alastair asked. “Assuming we’re not killed freeing your sister from a fortress of vampires, and assuming you’re able to find and reunite with Emma, what then?”

  “Of course we want to help free Samantha,” Tobias said. “She’s our longtime friend and no witch should be imprisoned like that. But what my brother means is, while Hecate is a goddess the Dark Gods are an entire pantheon. How can even a goddess as powerful as Hecate hope to prevail against a multitude of deities?”

  Drusilla raised her long, talon-like fingernails. “We’ve entered the Age of Magic, where anything is possible, especially for practitioners of magic, which is why the Dark Gods fear us so. But even if we’re doomed to fail, I’d sooner die fighting my enemies than spend the rest of my life fleeing from them.”

  Ezra grimaced. “I suggest we all get a good night’s sleep. It’s been many years since I’ve ridden a horse and as I recall they’re uncomfortable beasts.”

  Tobias gazed around the farmhouse. “We may as well see what food is in the cabinets.” He observed Alastair’s disapproving look. “Surely the gold coins you plan to leave will be sufficient to compensate them for some foodstuffs in addition to the horses?”

  Alastair grunted. He was about to reply but he paused, distracted by shadows moving across the wall. “I fear we are not alone.” The shadows emerged from the walls, taking on humanoid form as they slithered across the farmhouse floor and rose as two-dimensional figures. Two shadows split into four, and four separated to form eight. At their center, the umbra, was the opaque portion of each shadow figure from which all light had been excluded but their penumbra – the partially shaded outer region of the shadow figures – not only appeared in humanoid form but moved in a manner indicating intelligent thought.

  “Shadow People!” Ezra exclaimed.

  Tobias gestured and incanted, “Umbrae adtenuatis!” The Shadow People slunk back onto the farmhouse walls and faded into a chiaroscuro of contrasting tones and shades of gray.

  Drusilla sneered. “Bah! You’re too merciful, Tobias. Fortunately I don’t share your weakness.” She cast her arm at the shadows and intoned, “Illuminare! Lux valet prae tenebris!” Her invocation created a flash of intense light illuminating the interior of the farmhouse and dispersing the shadows. The Shadow People jerked and writhed, their two-dimensional forms contorting and emitting unearthly shrieks before vanishing.

  “They’ve been obliterated!” Ezra exclaimed.

  Drusilla arched an eyebrow. “And probably most painfully, too. But this way they won’t be reporting our location to their mistress Nyx.”

  “Let’s get some much-needed rest,” Alastair said. “One of us will stand guard every few hours to make sure we don’t receive any more unwelcome visitors.”

  “Agreed,” Tobias said. “We must remain vigilant. These insidious creatures might strike at any time, literally arising from the shadows.”

  Drusilla grunted, not wishing to point out that the Shadow People, as dangerous they could be, were likely the least of the threats the Dark Gods might unleash against them.

  Jonas Braxton gazed up into the young witch’s eyes. “Emma, when will Aunt Beast return?”

  She looked down at the shivering boy. “I don’t know, Jonas. She comes whenever she can. It’s probably not easy for her to slip away unnoticed by her people.”

  “Are they bad people, the lycans?”

  “Lycanthropes. I used to think so, but then I met Aunt Beast. She’s a lycanthrope, too. Do you think she’s bad?”

  Jonas shook his head. “I like Aunt Beast. I miss her.”

  Emma hugged him. “She’ll be back.” She took off her coat and wrapped it around the boy. “In the meantime, you stay bundled up.” The bone-chilling cold seeped through Emma’s skin but she tried not to shiver in front of Jonas. She looked up when she heard footsteps coming around the bend in the cave. “Stay here.”

  Emma approached the bend, preparing an incantation to deal with a potential hostile intruder. Then she remembered Aunt Beast’s admonition not to use magic, so instead she bent down and picked up a heavy rock with her tremulous hands. Emma rounded the bend poised to strike a deadly blow. She came face-to-face with a teenage boy slightly older than herself.

  “Was it something I said?” He grinned and she dropped the rock, her equanimity returning.

  “Tad!” Emma embraced him. “You know you’re not supposed to be here.”

  “No one saw me. And if anyone had, that would have been too bad for them.”

  “You may be a changeli
ng but that doesn’t make you invulnerable. If you’re caught aiding and abetting witches, they’ll hang you or worse.”

  Tad smiled. “They’d have to catch me first.” His eyes darted around the frigid cave. “Besides, you can’t stay here forever. These are barbaric conditions.” He noticed her shivering and took off his coat. “Put this on.”

  “But what about you?”

  He shook his head. “Changelings don’t feel the cold,” he lied.

  Emma glanced around at the freezing children huddled together. “I wish the same could be said for witches and warlocks.”

  “You can’t stay here indefinitely.”

  “We have nowhere else to go. As long as the Dark Gods rule the multiverse, there’s no sanctuary for our kind. Not anymore. Our time could run out at any moment.” She hugged him.

  “I won’t let that happen. We belong together, Emma. I feel it in my bones. Not even death will keep us apart. I’ve lived through multiple incarnations so I know lovers will always be reunited, in some place or some time.” His soulless black orbs locked onto her eyes. “Come with me, Emma. We’ll run away together, so far the Dark Gods will never find us.”

  Emma looked at Jonas, sleeping peacefully wrapped in her coat, and the other children, and shook her head. “I can’t leave them, Tad. They’re depending on me.”

  He sighed. “Then I guess I’ll have to get used to cave dwelling.”

  The Dreamscape:

  Alaric, Asmodeus, and Asabi teleported from Hell to the tavern in the Dreamscape where they reunited with Kita, Katsumi, and Nitrate.

  “Where did you disappear to?” Katsumi asked Alaric.

  “Asabi and I made a brief detour to Hell. This is my friend, the demon Asmodeus. He’s offered to help us.”

  Katsumi bowed. “I am honored to meet you.”

  Asmodeus’ human head smiled pleasantly; it was impossible to tell if his ram’s head or bull’s head did as well.

  “Morgan Summers has returned,” Kita said to Alaric.