by Emma Hamm
Jasper stretched his arm out on the bench behind her. “How much do you love me?”
She froze. Even her jaw stopped working to chew as she slowly looked over at him.
Deer in the headlights. Just the way he wanted her. Jasper had to work very hard to not grin at her. He knew that she wasn’t an emotional person. Saying the words had been like pulling a tooth out of her head.
Never once did he doubt she meant them. Mercy, in her own way, loved him. She thought of Jasper as a part of herself rather than a separate being. Every movement she now made was in sync with him.
It had taken a while to notice the differences in their relationship after he became her master. Mercy trusted him unconditionally, now. Before, Jasper had to battle uphill just to get a kind word out of her.
But when he held her in bed at night, he noticed even her Ember beat to the same tune as his. Every thump was perfectly timed where there had been nothing before.
She swallowed. “What?”
“How much do you love me?”
“Jasper, I—” she stumbled over her words. “You know it’s not easy for me to talk about—”
He interrupted her. “Yes, I know that it’s hard for you to say the words. But I want to know, in measurable amounts how much you love me. Like the size of a mountain? Perhaps smaller than that? Measurable please, love.”
She blinked at him a few times before biting her lip. “I suppose I would have to say it is similar to the size of the lava lakes Ignes remembers. It ebbs and flows much like the ocean, but it burns hot and steady.”
“So you’re saying you love me quite a bit.”
“Love is not the word for it. I’ve told you this before, Jasper. It’s not necessarily a human way to measure emotion. I look at you and I see myself reflected back. We are one, you and I. Soul, body, and mind.”
He pursed his lips and feigned stroking his nonexistent beard. “Ah. So that is quite a bit, then.”
Her cheeks flushed bright red. He thought for a moment that she was growing angry at him, likely resulting in more burns for Wolfgang to treat. He quickly realized it wasn’t anger at all but embarrassment.
“You do!” He laughed. “All this ridiculous banter and you standing up for your Phoenix ideals! You love me!”
“You know I do.” She pressed her palms against her cheeks. “There’s enough human left in me to linger on thoughts of you. Jasper, stop laughing!”
He held his sides as mirth exploded from his lips. “I can’t!”
“Jasper!”
A few moments later, he pulled himself together enough to only allow a few chuckles to escape. “I just wanted to make sure that you loved me a considerable amount so I could measure how much more this makes you love me.”
“Shaving your face?” She arched her brow. “I don’t think that’s going to change it all that much.”
He wiped at the tears under his eyes and shook his head. “Just look over there already, would you?”
There it was. The real surprised look he was waiting for. Her mouth hung open and flames curled at her temples to tangle in her hair.
“What?” she asked. “Jasper, is that —?”
“Yes.”
The ground shook and the bench quaked as a very familiar Giant lumbered towards them. Behind him, a Centaur galloped, and in the air overhead a Thunderbird let out its screeching cry.
Mercy covered her mouth with her hand. “I thought—”
She couldn’t seem to say the words, but he understood. Jasper reached out to hold her free hand. “Me too. And then I heard rumors. I didn’t realize how close I was to growing up in Giant’s territory. Are you going to go see them?”
It took a moment, but she released him to press her hands against the wooden bench. He waited, but she didn’t move.
“Mercy?”
“Jasper, I don’t think I can stand. Help me, please.”
He wrapped an arm around her waist to help her up and pressed his lips against her hair as they walked towards her remaining family. “I’ll always be your rock to hold onto.”
Tears fell freely down Mercy’s cheeks the closer they got. She wobbled in his embrace, even Jasper had a hard time maintaining his balance when Tiny ran towards them. The Giant could really eat up distance when he wanted to
Jasper braced himself for impact. Tiny lifted them into a tight bear hug.
“You survived!” the Giant boomed in their ears. “I knew it had to be true. You were always too feisty to die, Mercy! And you, Jasper, you took care of her.”
Jasper’s ribs creaked as Tiny clutched them both to his chest. “Tiny—”
“I am so happy to see you! You have no idea how worried we were. Even more than when we realized Mercy had been let out of her prison!”
“Tiny!”
“Oh.” Splotches of red bloomed on Tiny’s cheeks. “Sorry. I get carried away.”
“I could tell,” he grumbled as Tiny slowly put him down.
The ground was much safer. He backed several steps away as Tiny, still holding Mercy, spun in delight. Jasper was in no hurry to be accidentally punted by a Giant.
Joyous shouts echoed in Jasper’s ears until he heard the sound that was better than music. Mercy’s barking laugh meant something else had fit back into place inside of her. He hadn’t heard her real laugh in such a long time that he had almost forgotten what it sounded like.
He took a few more steps back as firework like sparks showered out of her. The remaining two creatures stepped forward as Tiny finally placed her on the ground. Although she was not a touchy feely person, Mercy was certainly giving out a lot of hugs.
Jasper thought he’d done a rather good job. He crossed his arms firmly over his chest and grinned as the Centaur danced. They were pleased to see her. And she couldn’t take her hands off any of them.
That wasn’t a bad thing. These creatures could be powerful allies in the battles to come. Jasper didn’t want to dwell on such darkness, but danger was the norm for their lives, and these moments of safety were the exception.
This was one of those safe times, and he was going to enjoy it as much as he could.
A Siren’s shriek pierced his ears. The creatures in front of him didn’t pause for a second, but Jasper, wincing, turned to see Lyra on the front porch.
The cup in her hand dropped to the ground as she darted towards him. Once at his side, she reached out to place a hand against his arm. Apparently he was steadying most of the women in his home today.
“Is that— Is that a Giant?” Lyra asked him.
“Yup.”
“A real Giant?”
He raised his hand and pinched his pointer finger and thumb together. “A small Giant.”
All the color faded from Lyra’s cheeks as the remaining humans in his house came running out to join them.
“That’s a small one?” Lyra and Wolfgang said simultaneously.
“Yup.”
“Good gods.” Wren’s voice was not just her own. E’s delicate accent was overlaid with thousands of others. “They really do exist.”
“We told you they did.”
“Excuse us if we found that hard to believe.” Burke chuckled. “I just never thought I’d be looking at a man who was half horse.”
Jasper turned around and furrowed his brow. “That’s what startled you? Not the twenty foot man hefting Mercy around like she’s a feather?”
At least Burke seemed a little embarrassed. “I can deal with the big man. But the hooves are making me uncomfortable.”
Jasper smacked his forehead. “Save me. Come on then, let’s go make the introductions.”
As a group, the humans walked towards the creatures. Wolfgang and Lyra were already reaching for hidden weapons, and Burke had Wren tucked underneath his arm. But they were together, and Jasper had a feeling the others could take care of themselves.
None of them were safe. Not now, not ever. Mercy had taught him that well enough.
Once Jasper and his friend
s were closer, Tiny put Mercy back down and patted her on the head.
“We owe you,” the Giant told Jasper. “Thank you for reuniting us.”
“I’m happy to bring your family back together. I’d appreciate it if you stayed, Tiny. And any other misfits you’ve gathered along the way are welcome as well.”
Tiny inclined his head. “We’d like to stay for a while.”
“We need soldiers,” Wren called out. “The world is going to end very soon, and we want to stop it.”
“But you don’t know how it’s going to end,” Tiny said. “We know.”
“How?” Jasper asked.
“Priscilla, rest her soul, had a few premonitions before she died.” Tiny pressed a hand against his chest. “She knew she had to be there when Malachi attacked. But she also knew that we were going to be very useful to you in the coming days. That’s why we were looking for you.”
“So you’ll fight?” Wren asked.
A blast of hot air pushed all of them backwards a step.
“No one is fighting.” Mercy’s voice was firm. “Not if I can help it.”
“Mercy—” Wren tried to argue with her.
“No. I said no! This is my family.”
Tiny reached down and patted Mercy’s head again. Jasper was going to have to ask him how he got away with that. Mercy would have singed all the hair off Jasper’s arm for daring.
The Giant rumbled, “Oh little one. We’re adults, and we choose our own path. Besides, we want to look out for you.”
Jasper saw the worried expression on her face. He knew what that meant, and he felt the same way. Instead of arguing like the others, he simply stepped forward.
Her eyes snapped to him immediately. She watched him walk towards her with slow even steps until he was a few feet away. Only then did he open up his arms.
She came without a fight, embracing Jasper. Her hands curled at the base of his spine, and her breath was warm against his neck.
“I don’t want any more death,” she told him.
The others began to introduce themselves. Jasper held Mercy as both sides of their family merged. Lyra was climbing Tiny within moments. Wren, her eyes glowing white, ran her hands over the Thunderbird’s feathers. E was likely introducing long-lost family members to the bird. Even Burke was trying to look like he wasn’t holding in vomit while attempting to look over the Centaur with Wolfgang. Thankfully, the Centaur was flexing rather than being embarrassed.
Jasper squeezed Mercy. “We can’t dwell upon death. It’s going to happen, my love.”
“I don’t want any more.”
“And yet we will continue to fight. Won’t we?”
He leaned back enough to see the smallest spark of fire light in her eyes. “No, we will not fight. We will rise.”
Epilogue
“Have you ever lost someone, Rizzo? Someone important? Someone that meant more than life itself?”
The voice, somehow reminiscent of whiskey and smoke, drifted through the air towards Rizzo in honey-soft tones.
Pitch was stretched out on a couch, legs dangling over one of its arms. His red silk shirt was unbuttoned to reveal the smooth planes of his chest. Though he was thin, ridges of muscle rolled down his abdomen.
The cigar between two of his fingers was balanced precariously. Red smoke curled up from it into the air, and, if one looked closely, skulls and screaming faces swirled in the haze. Pitch inhaled the substance as though he needed it to live.
Pitch raised the cigar to his lips, but did not inhale again. He bounced one foot in the air, his knee-high boots gleaming in the dim light of the study.
“No, I suppose you wouldn’t understand. Losing someone like that happens only once in your life,” Pitch grumbled.
His study wasn’t the perfect place for such a therapy session. The dim yellow and red light bulbs cast a sinister ambience on the opulently furnished room, and everything within was either red or black. He naturally strayed towards that color palette; dark colors accented by the occasional crimson or gold.
Above their heads, a crystal chandelier refracted the light to project bloody diamonds all around them. The shelves lining the walls were stuffed with books, and he realized suddenly that he had no idea what any of them contained.
“When did I get to the point of not knowing what’s in my own office?” he mumbled as he inhaled. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. I’ll redecorate soon enough.”
He wouldn’t. He had said those words a thousand times, but was never able to bring himself to change this place. The Den of Misery. His club, his shop, his blood poured into a building.
Pitch had become a household name. He was a Death Dealer, an assassin for hire, although he didn’t do most of the dirty work himself now. On top of that, he was now the most profitable Juice dealer in the city, thanks to Wren stepping down from her little post.
And her shop burning down. Pity that.
He was straying down lanes of memory that he longed to avoid. More red smoke filled his lungs and cleared his mind.
“Sorry, Rizzo. I seem to have forgotten what I was saying.” Pitch shook his head. “Oh, right. The lost love. You know I was in love once?”
There was no reply from the other side of the room. He supposed that was to be expected.
“She was the most wondrous creature I had ever seen,” Pitch continued. “Made of starlight. I swore she had no reason to look at me, but she did. I came alive because of her love when I had always been cold before her.”
He swung his legs off the couch and rested his elbows atop his knees. “And I called her many names in that time. First, I called her ‘darling’. Then, I called her ‘mine’.” He thumped his chest hard before his face wiped clean of all expression. “And then… Then, I just called her dead.”
The memories threatened to swallow him whole. Dark memories of screaming, pain, so much blood. He couldn’t control his body’s violent lurch to standing. Pacing was the only thing that could chase those memories away. Movement was good.
His unruly curls cascaded into his face. He shoved them back, swearing he’d get his hair cut. It was always getting in the damned way..
“Losing someone like that tears out your very soul. It rips you to shreds, and there’s no coming back from that. There’s no way you can smile anymore. There’s no light at the end of the tunnel, because the tunnel contains only darkness without her sunshine.” He paused to stare at Rizzo. “Are you listening to me?”
It didn’t matter. The point of therapy was to get everything out. That was better than bottling it up, wasn’t it?
He tugged at his hair. “Then, just when you think that the end is near, you meet someone else. Do you think it’s possible to fall in love like that again? To feel your soul reawaken because there’s another person who might not be able to be the sun but perhaps could be a candle?”
With one brow arched, he paused. A candle was lit on the desk before him. It cheerily flickered in the study, without a care that a very dangerous man stood before it.
Pitch couldn’t stop himself. He reached for the flame and carelessly held his finger over it. He waited until an ache bloomed before he pinched his fingers together. There was no explaining the instant ache in his chest.
Opening his fingers, he watched the rising, silvery smoke. “Rizzo, I don’t think there’s any coming back from the edge for me. I’m damned if I love her. And I’m damned if I don’t.”
The future was a dangerous thing to toy with. Of all people, Pitch knew that. Yet here he was, toying with the very fabric of time.
But Rizzo didn’t know that.
Pitch straightened so quickly his spine cracked. The golden chain he always wore around his neck swung outward as he spun towards the man tied down to a wooden chair.
The sudden burst of energy catapulted Pitch towards Rizzo. He slammed his hands into the back of the chair, tilting it back until it balanced upon two legs.
Rizzo whimpered through the duct tape covering his mouth.
“Thank you for the therapy session. Now, shall we continue with our little business?”
Pitch tore the duct tape from his mouth and reveled in the groaning pain. Red smoke curled out of Pitch’s nose as he stared down at the boy.
“Please, sir,” Rizzo begged. “I didn’t do nothing!”
“Precisely,” Pitch removed one hand from the chair and pet the teen on the head. “Grammatically speaking, that is incorrect. But it is certainly an admission of guilt. Which I accept. I understand you came in here and stole something of mine.”
“No, no I didn’t. That was me friends, but I would never—”
Pitch smashed a finger against Rizzo’s lips. “Silence. Your magical signature is all over everything, so please don’t insult my intelligence. Your friends left you here to die. They knew as well as you what I do to people who steal from me. They aren’t coming back to help you, to them, you’re already dead.”
More whimpering grated upon Pitch’s nerves. He hated it when they cried. If he was too frightened, the boy would piss himself and soil the Persian rug.
He let go of the chair, which thumped down onto all fours hard.
“Rizzo? Do you want to die?”
“No. No, sir, I don’t.” A snot bubble burst from Rizzo’s left nostril.
“Disgusting.” Pitch tsked. “Good. I’m going to tell you a little secret, Rizzo. I don’t want to kill you. This is a very nice room full of expensive things. If I kill you, I’m going to have to clean it. And I don’t like cleaning.”
He took a few steps back. “So, you have two options. The first, and the one we both find agreeable, results in you staying alive. In return, you tell me where your little friends ran off to. The second, and I hope you don’t choose this one, is that I reach into your head until I know the color of your mother’s eyes and the name of your first pet. I will find what I want to learn. And when I’m done, I will turn all your insides into liquid so that when I split open that meat sack you call skin, you will be nothing but goo.”
