by Hunter Blain
“John, to wear the Winter Crown is tantamount to losing oneself. I-I would be influenced by the darkness and unable to remain—me.”
“I-I don’t understand,” I stammered with a mouth that had flash-dried, leaving an awkward-feeling tongue pressing against porcelain teeth.
“Queen Mab wasn’t always the merciless royal devoid of compassion that she is now known. Sh-she was once my friend, along with Tatiana. Midworld was in turmoil with erratic weather. The Judeo-Christian Bible mentions specific cases, such as the great flood. Mankind took those events, which were beyond natural, and crafted stories to explain what had happened. It’s what humans do when they cannot explain something. In so doing, their minds are better able to cope.”
“Yeah. Father Thomes told me something similar. I’m just learning all kinds of fun stuff about the church.”
“You mustn’t blame them. Their faults are what make them human.”
I nodded before replaying what she had said.
“What do you mean you were friends?”
“Once it became clear that Faerie directly influenced Midworld, we each knew what had to be done in order to maintain the equilibrium. Tatiana wore the crown of living vines while Mab donned the mantle of frost. In the beginning, everything was fine. Midworld leveled off and the Seelie and Unseelie Courts maintained a delicate balance. Tatiana grew more joyous and carefree, while Mab…I can’t pinpoint exactly when she changed, but I was aware of it subconsciously. That’s when Oberon came into the picture. Each queen fought for the attention of the handsome, powerful man, but in the end, it was Tatiana who won his heart. Mab blamed the cold environment of the Winter Court and became dangerously jealous of her friend, the Queen of Summer.”
“I suppose I can understand Oberon’s decision. Though, personally, I do enjoy the cold and darkness.”
“Only because the sun will kill you,” Lily jabbed back with a weak, forced smile. I could tell what she was saying weighed her soul down like an unmoving anchor.
I smiled back at her, trying to overcompensate with a symbol of beaming happiness in an effort to shed light on her sullen mood. Then, as quickly as my grin had come, it faded as I understood what she was trying to tell me.
“No,” I mouthed with a deepening frown.
“She changed, John. It couldn’t be helped. Now TalGoid—I mean, Taylor—is asking me to help balance the courts before chaos erupts in Midworld.”
“Sonofabitch,” I barked at Taylor who sat upon his healthy, living throne. I became angry at his weakness and for making Lily his scapegoat.
“He knows it has to be me, John,” Lily lamented as her beautiful eyes began to glisten with welling tears. “He isn’t strong enough to sit on the throne of Air and Darkness.”
“Why not?!” I angrily asked through a tight jaw. My hands had slid off of Lily’s arms, frustrated that she was letting this happen.
“John, I knew this was coming. Things have happened that have made this moment inevitable.”
“What things?”
She took a step closer to me, uncrossed her arms, and grabbed one of my wrists while letting the fingertips of her free hand lovingly graze the skin of my face.
“Oberon,” she said so softly as to be on the precipice of a whisper.
“Ober…huh? What do you mean?” I stepped back as if her touch was burning my skin. “You’re saying because I killed Oberon, you have to take his place?” My anger was boiling over, fueled by shame and the coming loss of the woman I loved.
“Yes,” was her reply. So simple a word, comprised of only three letters, yet with the gravitas to punch a hole through time and space to shatter my heart, which had only recently learned to love. Her tone was gentle as the fragments of my heart were ripped through my rib cage in a splatter of tears and gore, leaving behind an empty cave of sorrow.
“Are…Are you leaving me? Lily?” I dared to ask around a choking lump in my throat. My hand unconsciously rubbed at the tightness of my chest while I fought the urge to weep.
“I am, and I am not.”
“That doesn’t make sense,” I said angrily, followed by sniffling and a quick wipe under my nose with the back of my hand.
“I love you, John Cook. I will always be yours, and you will always be mine.” She smiled warmly for the first time, feeling my show of affection for her. “But I would be doing you a disservice if I didn’t warn you about what was coming. I will fight for as long and as hard as I can. Do you hear me? I will fight to stay me. Just know, in time, the darkness will take hold, but I will still think I’m me and will refuse to acknowledge that anything has changed within me.”
“But if you know it’s coming, can’t you, like, keep your mind? Or whatever the hell is supposed to happen?” I threw my arms up in frustration before letting them fall back down to slap at my thighs.
“Oh, John. Dear, sweet, naive John,” Lily cooed as she walked to where I stood and rested her chin on my chest as she looked up at me and wrapped her arms around my waist. It wasn’t her usual cooing I was accustomed to; instead, it seemed as if she were reveling in that precise moment in time, as if in an effort to etch it forever in the marble of her mind.
Sensing her resolution to her duty, my face began to quiver as rapid gasps shook my body. I wrapped my arms around her shoulders and squeezed, tight, as a flood of tears streamed down my face and into my beard. A few droplets even made it all the way through the thickness of my facial hair and leaped to Lily’s face. She smiled like a parent whose sick child was throwing a fit because the needle of antibiotics was getting closer to their shoulder. It hurt them to see their baby so upset, but it was for their child’s own good. Lily knew she had to go, but it was also plain as night how much it hurt me to lose her.
“This isn’t easy for me, John,” Lily said as she wiped my tears off her face by rubbing her head on my shirt. It was a cute gesture for some reason. “But it must be done.”
Gathering my composure, I pulled my lips tight in an effort to keep them from quivering, and wiped at my wet face. “I know.”
“To make things as easy as possible, I’m going to leave now. Rip the Band-Aid off, as they say. I’ve never been good at goodbyes, anyway.”
“But this isn’t goodbye! Right?”
“I hope not. I want to say ‘come see me,’ but I’m afraid I would trick you into staying. And right now, your world, and all its inhabitants, need you.” Her smile faded as her face froze into an emotionless stoicism. “You shouldn’t visit me until Satan is defeated.” Her eyes sparkled with welling tears, and her lip quivered as she began to lose her composure. “Goodbye, John Cook. I love you.”
Then she was gone.
I was left holding empty air with her scent steadily fading as I took long, gasping breaths in an effort to maintain control.
I lost that fight and collapsed to my knees, sobbing. My hands reached around me as I became too weak to hold myself up and let my backside sit on my feet and calves. The stone of the mausoleum felt ice cold and alien to me as I wept. For a reason I couldn’t explain, I pivoted my head to watch as my hand caressed the stone floor, which had a light layer of dirt on it. I cried with shuddering breaths while watching my hand glide over the marble before I let myself fall to my side in a fetal position.
As quickly as it had come, my sobbing ceased, and I was left with leaking eyes as I rested my head on the cold ground.
“I love you, too,” I said to the empty mausoleum. The thought that I had never uttered those words aloud to her crept up like a sneak attack, and I began sobbing with renewed vigor.
She was gone. My Lily. My martyr. To don the Crown of Air and Darkness in an effort to save Midworld from biblical catastrophes, but at the cost of her self. The thought of willingly losing my mind was terrifying to me, and I once again stopped crying as the fear grew thorny vines through my soul. Lily had done something I didn’t think I could have done, and it made me love her that much more. Or maybe it was the fact that she was gone now that ma
de my undeniable feelings for her surge like an accelerant-fueled fire in the dry bush of the wilderness during summer.
My eyes moved from my hand, which had stopped exploring the stone floor, to land on the portal to Faerie. It was right there, waiting for me to go in and rule Faerie with the woman I loved.
I lifted first my head, then the rest of my torso as I pushed myself up to a seated position. I placed my elbows on my knees, letting my hands dangle down, and looked at the portal. I sniffled once as my mind raced with the possibility.
“I could do it,” I mouthed to myself, not daring to put any air into the words for fear the foolish strength to do just that might take my muscles over and force me to go through the gate. It was right there.
It. Was. Right. There.
Waiting. Waiting for me to go through. Damn the rest of the world.
I got to my feet, taking a step closer to the portal, a hand tentatively reaching out.
“I could do it,” I said again, this time putting forth the effort to formulate the words and let the idea slip from my tongue into the universe.
The visage of the handsome Archangel Gabriel flashed through my mind, making my hand recoil.
“No,” I mouthed as the snow globe of hope began to settle, allowing clear thought to shine through. “No,” I repeated aggressively. I pulled my hand back, shaking my head from shoulder to shoulder as I stepped backward, and away from Lily. “The world is counting on me. My parents…are counting on me.”
Looking up to the ceiling, I stared through it to regard Heaven. “I won’t let ye down. I promise,” I said to my parents, letting my accent drop.
I closed my eyes and clenched my fists until white knuckles popped. My mind demanded that I let go of my control and just let it snap. Just go hog wild and not worry about all this bullshit going on around me. Ulric being free and now the Grand Master Warlock in charge of an army. Locke losing his powers for choosing not to betray his friends, fully knowing what would happen. Losing Lily to obligations I couldn’t possibly sway her from. Depweg pissed at me for lying via omission about Dawson’s soul being in Hell. And now I had to freaking take the long elevator to the basement to not only get my friend’s soul—if such a thing was even freaking possible—but also retrieve the freaking scrolls while SATAN WAS SETTING A TRAP FOR ME!!!
“RRRRAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!” I roared into the stone building. “The harder I try to do the right fucking thing, the deeper I get into bullshit!”
“No one ever said it was going to be easy, John,” Depweg said as he came up the stairs. “But it’s a burden that only you seem to be able to carry.” His words were meaningful, fully transparent at his own lack of strength that had led to his soul dripping with tar.
“Hey, man,” I breathed just above a whisper. I wasn’t really ready or able to have this important conversation just yet, but steadied myself regardless.
“Everything okay?”
“I…No, man. No, it’s not okay. Pretty sure Lily just left me to rule as queen over the Unseelie Court.”
Depweg arched an eyebrow and leaned against the throne that acted as our hidden entrance.
“Long story short, it’s over. She won’t be her for much longer. I-I don’t want to talk about it right now. I need time to process.”
“I understand, brother,” Depweg said with full compassion.
“Brother?” I asked as I looked into his eyes. “You aren’t mad at me?”
“Furious. But what good does it do either of us at the moment? You said it yourself. You are going to Hell to get Dawson. I believe you when you say that. That, and I understand I have a penchant for taking bad news…poorly.”
We let that admission drift in the air between us as our minds played around with different ideas and thoughts.
“Can I ask you something?” I chose my coming words carefully so as not to offend my friend.
“Pretty sure you just did.”
“Can I ask you something else?”
“Once again—”
“Yeah, yeah. I get it. This is what I’m like. Ha ha,” I emphasized the fake laughter.
“What is it, brother?”
“W-why do you think it’s me?”
Depweg stared at me, knowing what I meant but making me finish the thought.
“Why me?” I asked again, leaving no room for misinterpretation this time.
“Maybe your mind is better able to cope with the changes and consequences. If I had to stop and think about it, I’d say a human’s mind is like tissue paper; once it tears, the damage is irreparable. I feel like most supes’ minds, like my own, are leather. Sure, there is a little give when life jerks you in different directions, but it isn’t forgivably pliable. Once it rips…” He held out his hands. I understood where he was going. Letting his arms drop again, he continued, “Your mind is like taffy. It can bend and stretch to impossible lengths before healing again, as if it had never happened.”
“I don’t know if I would agree with that, exactly. I bear the scars of several bad decisions, and tough luck.”
“Right, but here you are, weighed down with countless horrors that would make a mortal descend into insanity. You stand, perpetually at the mouth of madness, taunting it while carelessly filing your nails. Everything that has ever been thrown your way, you’ve rebounded from with amazing speed. Maybe it has something to do with your healing factor. Who knows?”
I thought about a time with Lily, when she had forced me to fill my member with blood. And recently, when I had swollen up my hand to gargantuan proportions before striking the feral werewolf in the chest. I had been able to heal the appendage before the skin ruptured and blood spilled out.
“You might be on to something with that last part,” I admitted to my friend. “I assume having my soul and body be a trifecta of human, demon, and angel plays a part as well. I mean, demons and angels are eternal, right? They must have the mental fortitude to withstand eternity without losing their minds.”
Depweg nodded as his eyes drifted to the ground and he considered my words. Lifting his gaze back to me, he said, “That makes perfect sense, actually.”
We stood in silence again as we each pondered the words spoken between us.
“John, there has never been anything like you in all of creation. That’s why I know you will save Dawson’s soul from Hell itself. I don’t exactly know why I know; I just—know.”
His confidence in me felt more like a weighted chain added to my shackles of responsibility rather than a swelling of pride.
“I won’t let you down, man.”
Depweg stepped forward and extended his hand. We grasped forearms and shook, Viking style. I could see in his eyes he believed in me. And it hurt.
21
A muffled knock sounded just outside. It was gentle, and Depweg and I had to do a double-take toward the large marble door as if to confirm we had heard the unmistakable cadence of knocking.
We both leaped back a step as three louder explosions rang out. Dust fell from the ceiling, and Depweg and I looked at one another.
“Who is it?” I yelled.
“AYY!” a voice called back, stifled as if coming from far away.
Moving hesitantly forward, I pressed the button that opened the large door. Warden Broadway stood with her glowing wand out. I quickly leaned outside the entrance and regarded the door as it disappeared behind the wall, noticing three black burn marks.
“The hell, man?” I asked.
“Sorry, didn’t think you could hear me,” Hayley said, replacing her wand under her cloak and stepping past me into the mausoleum.
“You must be Jonathan Depweg,” she said, holding out her hand in greeting. Depweg grabbed it and shook it firmly. She returned his shake with equal strength. “Warden Broadway of the Council. But you can call me Hayley.”
“Pleasure to meet you, Hayley,” Depweg responded, pulling his hand away before slipping it absently into his pocket.
“Elder Hecate said you needed me for someth
ing.”
“I do?”
Hayley shifted on her feet as her gaze shifted between Depweg and myself. “She said you would know what it is.”
“Why would I need a wizard warden of the Council?”
Depweg’s and my eyes shot to one another in instant recognition.
“Locke,” we breathed in unison.
“The warlock?” Hayley asked with a confused look. “What about him?”
“He was punished by the new Grand Master Warlock for choosing not to betray his friends. Ulric stripped him of his Hell-given power.”
“How is he not dead? I thought when warlocks lost their abilities they aged in an instant?”
“Well, technically he is only, what, thirteen years old or something?” I looked at Depweg for confirmation.
“Sounds about right. My time is a little off for some reason,” Depweg said with injected gallows humor.
“How is that possible? I thought he was at least five hundred years old. I mean, if Hecate trained him around the time you were made into a vampire.”
“The book blurb is: he died, went to Hell, and was brought back whenever Satan learned about his connection to me. He’s been back since around the early nineties.”
“Then his body should be forty, maybe fifty years old, right?” Hayley asked. “How is he only thirteen?”
“Weeelll. Spoiler alert, I grew his head a new living body using my own vampire magic.” I waved my hands in the air while dramatically wiggling my fingers and making an “O” face. “OOO-ooo. Magic!”
To her credit, Hayley took the crazy concept I was spewing and latched onto it fairly quickly. “That would explain why he isn’t dead. His body had only aged a relatively small time when his power was stolen. Had he been in his prior body, he would have aged the fifty years in an instant.”
“And? How would that have killed him? Humans live to, what, their eighties? Nineties? A hundred, even?”
“Yes, but done so gradually over a one-to-one ratio of time. Had Locke aged fifty years in the blink of an eye, his body would have failed and shut down from shock alone. Conversely, thirteen years isn’t that bad, plus he is still growing. I’m just guessing here, but because his body hasn’t reached the stage where cells begin dying off faster than they replicate, it probably helped prevent his death.”
