Death Awaits

by T S Paul

  “Scion of the prince? Does that mean a child?” the assistant asked his master.

  “It does. For the first time in a thousand years, the alignment is forming. We need to control all the variables of the prophecy. Two sons rather than three. Our prince needs to be mated and have issue when the stars align correctly. Nothing else matters if we are to regain both our position and our home,” Unway replied with a smile. “You cannot imagine how many in our order have worked tirelessly to achieve this. We will open the door and control the power of the gods.”

  Holding up the card representing the conversation I had just witnessed, I wished for a moment I could record it somehow. There was a prophecy and my father was part of it. My mother refused to speak of it, but Grandmother and I talked a lot about my father Ken. She told me he never spoke about the family he left behind, and she never pressed. That he was on the run was obvious. Even Cappy said Ken was always looking over his shoulder for something. Now at least I knew some of it. But why kill him? He was third born, not second. Digging into the man’s mind, I pulled out a third and final record.

  “Why isn’t it working?” Chief priest Unway screamed at his companions. “All the signs have been met, the child taught the proper technique of magic, and we have the door. Something is wrong.”

  The second son of Lord Shinigama was married off to agree with the prophecy. A child was born. He was magical, as all Kitsune are. His every form and spell were molded by Unway and his assistants. The savior of the race would be controlled by the priesthood.

  “What could it be? Kintaro is perfect. He’s a shining example of what a true Kitsune warrior should be. If there is a problem, it is yours,” Lord Shinigama replied. He and his guards stood off to one side, observing the ritual.

  “My Lord, we have done all that the prophecy has dictated. Prince Kintaro, Kanji, is the right person, at the right time, with the right powers to open the door. If there is a flaw… it is on the part of the Gods and not for us to refute.” Master Unway bowed before the clan lord.

  Lord Shinigama looked past the priest to his grandson. Dressed as a traditional samurai warrior, he stood braced against the door as if trying to force it open. “Could it be the wrong door?”

  “It was your father that led the raid during the great earthquake to seize it from the Zenko. We’ve had it under lock and key ever since. It matches the one in Fushimi. Do you want us to try that door? It would mean negotiating with humans,” Umway replied. The old priest bowed his head to hide the sly grin on his face. It was well known that the clan lord disliked humans.

  “No. Bring me the prophecy. I want a more modern look at translation. The door and Kintaro aren’t going anywhere for now. Dig into it. I want everyone on the same page here,” the Lord ordered. “We have the edge over the others. The door and the power are ours.”

  Reslotting the card into the man’s virtual head, I thought for a moment. One question answered, but even more posed. Who are the Zenko? Why is the door so important? And what part did my father play in all of this? Maybe it was time to talk to my captors in person.

  Chapter Seven

  “Hay. Must find hay!” Fergus cried out as he hopped down from the roof of the house he was on. Despite what he might have told the team, there were limits to what he could do. Big limits. “Stupid magic.”

  Jumping blind never ended well. That was one of the first things the little unicorn learned after the first time he jumped. Accidents happen. It was all Zeus’s fault actually, or that’s what he told himself all the time. When in doubt, blame the cat.

  “Close your eyes envision the place you want and jump,” Fergus muttered sarcastically.

  “Mommy, do we have any hay?” Hannah Carson asked her mother. The young girl had been playing in the backyard.

  “Hay? You mean like what horses eat?” Mary Carson stared at her daughter in confusion as she nodded. “Honey, why do you need something like that?”

  “For Fergus, he told me he was hungry. The tea I gave him wasn’t enough. He liked the cookies, though. Peanut butter is his favorite!” Hannah replied.

  “Is he one of your friends from school?” Hannah had started pre-school a week prior and was still getting used to being around other kids her age. Both Mary and her husband Dan worried she was overwhelmed by it all.

  Hannah smiled up at her mom. “No silly. He’s a unicorn.”

  Mary blinked, her thoughts askew. Shaking her head slightly, she looked back down at her now bouncing daughter. Stuttering, she asked, “A unicorn? For real?”

  “He fell out of the sky into our yard. Do you want to meet him? He’s really funny,” Hannah replied as she bounced up and down on her new sneakers. “Can I keep him?”

  “He’s outside right now? Is he like the one we saw at the zoo last year?” Crossing to the kitchen window, Mary scanned the yard for a horse-like creature. During a trip into New York City the previous year her husband Dan took them to the magical animal exposition in Central Park. There was an all white unicorn on display there that was purported to speak. Only those with the Sight or the Ear could hear it, though. Magic didn’t run in her or her husband’s family though. Unicorns only flew in fairy tales. “Where is he exactly,” she asked, not seeing anything out of the ordinary.

  “At the table. He’s having tea and trumpets with the whole family,” Hannah replied. “If we don’t have hay, can I have more cookies? Fergus is really hungry.”

  Tea party. Mary leaned forward, bracing herself against the kitchen counter to look down at the small folding table Hannah used for her parties. Like always, it sat just below the roofs edge in the shade of the house. Surrounded by almost every stuffed animal from the child’s arsenal, Hannah’s tea parties were legendary amongst family members. The precocious five-year-old liked to serve tea to any unsuspecting person. Dan, Mary’s husband, found that out the hard way when Hannah trapped him with a cup. Just thinking about that incident made her smile. The trials and tribulations of being a parent.

  Hannah headed back out the door to her party.

  “Have some tea with me daddy,” Hannah thrust a toy cup into Dan Carson’s face. He’d made the mistake of walking onto the outside stoop and been spotted.

  Taking the tiny cup in his hand he smiled down at his daughter, “Did you make this just for me?”

  “I did. Try it, it’s my special brew,” Hannah smiled up at him as he drank down the liquid inside.

  “Mmmm good,” Dan exclaimed. “Tasty.” Keeping a straight face was something he’d learned in business, and for this it was important. Upsetting his child during what looked to be a happy moment wasn’t cool to do her. But that tea tasted god awful. Tangy, but in a bad way!

  “Fergus likes it too. Did you want a salad to go with it? Mom didn’t have any hay, so I used dandelions and grass,” Hannah explained.

  Rubbing his stomach Dan shook his head no, “Sorry kiddo. I stopped for wings and beer with the guys and I’m all full up. Maybe next time ok? Or…” he paused, “or we can go check out that Billie Burger place sometime. I hear they have a neat kids show. Much better than that cardboard pizza place we went to for your birthday.”

  Hannah clapped her hands, “Can we? Mandy Sue said they have dancing clowns and everything. Can we take Fergus too? He says he likes burgers and fries.”

  Dan looked around the backyard. “Is he a new friend of yours?”

  Hannah pointed to her tea table, “Daddy, he’s a unicorn.”

  Peering past his daughter, Dan could see her small table and chairs set up on the edge of the patio. Stuffed animals and dolls sat in the chairs surrounding it. “Oh, I see. Well, you tell Fergus he’s welcome to come any time.”

  Hannah hugged her father across the knees, “Thank you daddy.”

  Dan sipped at the small cup. Forcing a smile and trying not to gag, he told her the tea was delicious, again.

  “Really? I made it special for Fergus when he said he was thirsty. He said it was the bestest ever.” Letting go of her
father’s knees, Hannah ran past him inside the house to find her mom.

  Quickly, Dan dumped the remainder of the small cup out onto the grass. His tongue tasting like vinegar or something forced him to spit. “God that’s awful,” he muttered to himself. “Next time skip the tea!”

  “Sounds like a good idea to me. She’s a good kid, Hannah. Reminds me a lot of my friend Agatha. That’s who I’m on my way to see. Your yard was just a stop on the way. You got any of that pizza you were talking about on you? I could really use a snack right about now,” a voice said to Dan.

  “Who said that?” Dan peered around the yard in search of an intruder, his protective nature kicking in.

  “I did.”

  Dan stepped off the porch onto the yard. “Show yourself!”

  “Seriously dude, you need to chill out. Look down.”

  Looking down at the table in front of him, he looked for the source of the strange voice. Seeing nothing but toys and dolls he peeked under the tablecloth.

  “Up here.”

  Like a prairie dog popping up out of its hole, Dan was up looking around again. “This isn’t funny. Show yourself now or I’m calling the police.”

  “Ah humans, and they call me stupid. Right here. The unicorn on the table.”

  Looking down, Dan found himself staring into the bright blue eyes of a small white unicorn. One that was talking to him.

  “Hi there. Nice to meet you. Now about that pizza?” Fergus asked.

  “Uh, uh, uh…” Dan’s jaw dropped open as he stared down. Squeezing his eyes shut for a moment, he counted to ten then opened them again.

  “Still here. You really need to feed the unicorn. It will all make sense once you put some bread and cheese in my belly. Or hay. Hay would be great right about now. Got any hay?” Fergus asked.

  Doing an about face, Dan walked away from the table, the unicorn, and all Hannah’s dolls. Maybe his wife had the answer.

  Turning toward the row of stuffed animals and dolls lining the table, Fergus started talking. “So, no pizza? This place is a bust. All I get is fresh grass and nasty tea. I could’ve stayed in Briarwood to get that. Pizza sounds good. Got my mouth all set for it. I think there was a gas station not too far from here. Do any of you remember it? Cardboard pizza is better than no pizza at all. Maybe they have some more of that jerky stuff. I could ask for hay flavor. That last guy just yelled and fell over. Not my fault I don’t carry money. I’m a unicorn, not a pack mule. Tell Hannah I said thanks, but I’m out of here.”

  With a slight pop, Fergus jumped away.

  Inside the house Dan could only stare at his daughter. She was dressed, but inside out and backwards.

  “Hannah, go find a better outfit, that one is all messed up,” Mary Carson yelled at the now dancing little girl. “Clean clothes should be on your bed.”

  Looking at her husband, Mary kept right on talking. “You got her all riled up on purpose, you know. I should make you fix her outfit. You’d have her dressed for baseball or something. I can cook you know, we don’t have to eat out all the time. How was work? Did you get that new account you were shooting for?”

  “Uh…” Dan dumbly looked from his daughter to his wife. He wanted to say words, but all that was coming out were grunting noises. Clearing his throat, he choked out a response. “Account. Yes. We closed… like we wanted. Did you meet Fergus?”

  “Her new friend? Sure. Isn’t it cute how she has those parties? I used to round up all my brothers and make them sit with me,” Mary replied.

  Dan licked his lips. “Did you speak to him? I was drinking some of the tea and…”

  Mary laughed, giving her husband an incredulous look. “You actually drank the tea? Oh Dan, tell me you didn’t.”

  “Sure. It was pretty nasty stuff though You know I try to support Hannah. But we need to switch her to Kool-Aid or something,” Dan answered.

  Clutching her chest, Mary started laughing even harder. Bending over, she had to grip the kitchen counter to catch her breath.

  “What?” Dan asked, not liking being made fun of.

  Mary bit her lower lip as she reined in her chuckles. Holding her palm flat and down near her knees, Mary explained. “Think for a minute. She’s only this high. There’s no way she can even reach the faucet in here or her bathroom.”

  “So? There’s a hose outside,” Dan pointed.

  “Like your daughter even knows how to use that. Seriously Dan. No. Not the faucet. Where else is there water in this house?”

  Not completely understanding, Dan looked at her then scanned the room. The hall bathroom was open and the only thing he could see was the toilet… “No, don’t tell me that.”

  Mary burst into laughter again. “I’m gonna call you piss boy from now on!”

  “Ugh.” Pulling his shirt higher, Dan started wiping his tongue.

  Chapter Eight

  Anchors.

  In my mind I tried to imagine a set of anchors like a deep sea fisherman might use, but all I could see were pirates. Damn Chuck and his drunken pirate fantasies. He’d dragged both Cat and I to all six of the movies as well as some really old ones starring this Errol guy. He made a good Zero too. Or was it Zorro? Fantasy wasn’t really my thing. I read a lot of Witch books.

  In between slaying Demons and getting ready for Dragons, both Agnes Pickleberry and my grandmother found a few moments to work with me. They’d taught me spells and techniques not written down anywhere. If I had the will and the way I could fly across the country without a broom, swim without using my hands, and divine every human being's perfect match. That last one was only in theory. Most just followed their heart. But neither of them touched upon dreamwalking. I’d had to do that sort of research on my own.

  Everything I read spoke of how dangerous it was. Similar to astral travel, dreamwalking removed a witch’s very essence from their body and projected it into another being. There were so many things that could go wrong. None of the books in either grandmother’s library or the Library of Alexandria explained how to do it exactly. Not even the forbidden tomes locked up in what served as Otherwhere’s basement vault. Owl and Mack claimed it was just that serious. Like a human urban legend, most witches knew a friend of a friend who’d tried it and died. It was one of my powers. I just had to know.

  It helped that I’d done it before by accident. Waking up in a cavern filled with terror and bones wasn’t a happy memory. I’d visited the Strega temple, and I’d done it alone. It took a god to show me the way though. The proper way. Even Khonsu warned me. Set an anchor. Without it, I could drift off into space or something. So, I set one and let go.

  Up until the moment I cut the ties to my corporeal self, I wasn’t completely sure of three things. One, I was in California. Two, Fergus was still alive and free. Three, it was way later than even I thought it was. Seven months more than I thought it was. Well, six and change but at this point who's counting. During the many, many, discussions I’d had with both my grandmother and Cappy about my father and his family, they’d always said California. But just because you know something you can’t always trust it.

  Jack Dalton, my first real boss and mentor, told me lots of stories about the left coast as he called it. It was where the Demons came from and was way wilder than the East. Which makes sense when you take into account all the military bases and wide open spaces out there. He’d told me some pretty wild stories about Bigfoot and tunnel monsters. All we’d tackled were regular monsters like Weres and Vamps. Of course there were the dragons, but I’d really only taken down one of those.

  As a familiar, Fergus served as a battery for my magic. Concentrating, I was able to draw on what he stored to accelerate both my spells and my will-power. Just the fact that I was able to do it outside the compound my body resided in told me the little guy was healthy and free. Unfortunately, we couldn’t speak mind to mind or I’d let him know what I was up to.

  Fergus was in mid jump when the drain hit him. Like hitting an invisible wall, the micro unico
rn bounced not once, not twice, but three times before landing.

  Feeling like the ball in a game of pinball, Fergus shook himself like a wet dog. “Ugh!”

  Blinking a few times, he looked around at a small cluster of buildings surrounded by junked cars and cows. “What fresh hell is this now? If you can hear me, Agatha, that wasn’t freaking funny!” Fergus yelled up at the sky. “I love having you back by the way.” Shaking his head from side to side, he tried to loosen up a bit.

  He’d landed atop a pile of hay, which was nicer than the roof last time. Falling out of the sky suddenly wasn’t cool though. Shaking his head, Fergus started muttering to himself. “Witches. Can’t kill em, can’t live without them. Why did I agree to this familiar stuff again?”

  Thinking back, he remembered meeting Agatha for the first time and how she’d changed him. Going from a unicorn who thought he was about to die to a very short, talking unicorn, was a bit of shock. Barely trusting the Witches who’d helped him, he took a chance. It wasn’t as if he could’ve gone home. At least at that time. It wasn’t all bad. He’d made some friends and learned magic. Not that it was helping him here!

  “Your mouth is bigger than your stomach and it will get you into trouble one day, mark my words Fergus.”

  Fergus cocked his staring up at the sky. Minerva and Marcella made too much sense sometimes. Not that he’d ever admit it out loud. He could still hear her yelling at him. He was a unicorn, and unicorn magic was his territory. What did she know anyway? Sighing, he looked down at the ground. She knew a lot, apparently. Claiming that Agatha was ‘one jump away’ was running off at the mouth. Big words, short pants as Chuck might say. His first jump barely took him out of the state of Maine. If he hadn’t been yanked out of the sky, he might have made New York state. He’d been aiming for it all day. But no. Now he had to recharge in what looked like redneck hell.