by Hunter Blain
“We say that, but he isn’t doing well, like at all,” I added. “What can you do to help him?”
“Elder Hecate gave me this.” She reached under her cloak, appeared to fiddle with something like a fanny pack or messenger bag, and pulled out a stone. On it was a sigil that I didn’t recognize, etched in blood.
“What does it do?” Depweg asked before I could finish sucking in a breath to ask the same thing.
“It’s a time stone. Elder Hecate made it herself and said I’d know what it was for. Odd.” Hayley’s eyes went unfocused as she thought.
After a few moments, my curiosity got the better of me and I asked, “What?”
“Hmm? Oh, she gave this to me a long time ago. Like a really long time ago.”
“How the hell did she know Locke was going to need it? And why does Locke need this?” My eyes flicked down to the stone. I could feel it was important, but couldn’t verbally express why I knew it to be so.
“As I learned it, whoever holds the stone once it is activated will be transported to the in-between, where time doesn’t exist. Elder Hecate, or at least a manifestation of her, will be there to guide the recipient in the ways of a wizard. I always wondered why she would give it to me. I mean, I didn’t need it, as I was already a respectable wizard and a warden of the Council.”
“I’ve learned there are no coincidences in this cosmic game of chess,” I stated coldly, sick of feeling like a pawn with little to no control over my own actions.
“How long will it take to work?” Depweg asked.
“I honestly don’t know. Where he will go, time doesn’t exist, or at least it’s relative.”
“That’s something I know a lot about,” I said with a chuckle. “So, we don’t know how long it will take, or if it will even work. We are only assuming Hecate knew this was coming—which, by the by, kinda pisses me off—and gave you the stone accordingly.”
“That about sums it up,” Hayley admitted with a nod of her head.
A thumping of ungraceful footsteps came up from below, giving the three of us pause as the massive Ludvig came into view.
“Oh, hello, everyone,” Ludvig greeted with a set of car keys in his hand. His eyes locked onto Hayley and went wide for a moment as his mouth dropped. “Who—”
“Warden Broadway,” Hayley said energetically as she all but skipped to extend a hand out to Ludvig. “But please, call me Hayley.” Her eyes twinkled as Ludvig’s massive hand swallowed hers in a handshake.
“I’m, eh, I’m—”
“Ludvig Mansson, the Hunter. Oh yes, I’ve heard all about you, my dear. And, if I might say, I am a huge fan of your work.”
“Oh, eh, I, um,” Ludvig gulped audibly, clearly entranced by the powerful woman standing in front of him. “Warden, eh? Dat’s impressive.”
“Why thank you, good sir,” Hayley said with a curtsy as she held onto the Swede’s hand.
Depweg and I looked at each other with matching eyebrows at the center of our foreheads. I wanted to open a bottle of Lysol or Febreze and spray the air to cancel out the pesky pheromones flying around and invading my nostrils.
“Well, alrighty then. Lude, where ya off to?” I asked, signaling the hand that wasn’t clasped in Hayley’s. “And what’s on the paper? A list of more food to buy? I mean, could you not just remember ‘the entire store’?”
Holding up the car keys, he said, “I am, eh, actually going to da store to get more food.”
“You already went through what you brought in earlier?! Lilith! How much do you eat, man?!”
“It wasn’t just me. De doggies ate a bunch, too!” My eyes shot to Depweg at the nomenclature that I was sure to be offensive to the were. He paid it no mind, as if knowing that Ludvig meant no offense in his English translation. “And your kitchen is small, broder.”
“Hey! It’s not the size, okay?”
Hayley snickered as she pulled her hand from the smitten Swede’s grasp. “Besides, Locke is supposed to be working on plans for a new mansion for us. That is if someone gets down there and keeps him from freaking dying!”
“Hey, go fuck yourself,” Hayley said with a playful smile in response to being told what to do.
“You’re going to fit in just fine,” Depweg added as he covered his shit-eating grin with his hand, pretending to massage his face in contemplation. His eyes dropped to the crumpled sticky note in the Swede’s hand, his brow furrowing ever so slightly as if trying to remember a dream after waking up.
I just stood there, letting my annoyed gaze drift from one person to the other. Once I landed on Lude, he dramatically waved his hand in greeting, as if pulling me back from my trance.
“Anyway. If you are done ‘fitting in,’” I said with air quotes, “Do you mind saving Locke’s life? Pretty please? With blood on top?”
“Only since you asked nicely, princess,” she responded before making her way down the stairs.
“OH! I’ll show her where he is!” Ludvig added before ungracefully turning to stomp down the stairs after the warden.
“Ten bucks says they bone before dawn,” I flatly stated to Depweg.
“I’m not taking that action. She seems aggressive, and Lude is already melting with just a handshake.”
“Day-um,” I drawled.
“What?”
“I wanted her to fall for you, dude.”
“Not my type.”
“How’s that?”
“Weres tend to mate with other weres. I find it difficult to find any other type of woman attractive. I’m sure it has to do with how the virus changed my physiology.”
A thought came to mind and I asked, “What happens if you find a mate and have a full-blooded baby? Are they, like, King of the Weres or something?”
“Something like that. But it’s a situation I don’t need to worry about.”
“How so?” I shifted my body to fully face my friend, who had never revealed this sort of information to me. I found it dreadfully interesting.
“There are few women weres in the world. Something about the change; only one out of a hundred survive. Maybe it’s closer to one out of a thousand. It never really concerned me to find out.”
Depweg looked at me in silence. “Uh-huh?” I asked while motioning with a hand to continue.
Sighing at my persistence, Depweg said, “Any females that are successfully turned are taken and given to the oldest of us. No one hears from them after.”
“Yeah, that doesn’t sound like a thriller-type movie at all,” I facetiously commented. “Let me guess. He is amassing an army of full-blooded weres to overthrow the world or something? Am I close? Warmer or colder? Or maybe they are preventing full-blooded offspring from being born and just killing the women so they can stay in charge?”
“I don’t know. Nothing I can do about it, so why worry myself over something out of my control?”
“Grrrr! Damn you and your Zen attitude.” My mind played around with the information and I snapped my fingers in excitement. “I got it! They are Nazis who are building an army of blond-furred, blue-eyed weres to overthrow the world. You and I only thought we killed Hitler. He actually survived being attacked by you and me and has somehow turned into some werewolf-vampire hybrid. Yeah, he’ll be, like, the final boss before Satan himself or something.”
Depweg stared at me, widening his eyes for a moment in surprise at my fanciful story.
“You never cease to amaze me with what comes spilling out of your mouth, John.”
“Thanks!”
We stood there for a few moments, then I stuck my arm out. “We good?”
Depweg grabbed my forearm and we shook as he said, “Of course we are. Now, take your shiny shoes and go save my packmate.”
I looked down at my Fae boots and wiggled my toes.
“Heigh-ho, heigh-ho, it’s off to Hell I go,” I sang in a confident treble. Completely without abject terror.
The End
Epilogue—Part 1
Warden Broadway made
her way confidently through the Fortress of Solitaire with Ludvig just behind, his eyes roaming despite his honest efforts at propriety. The mystery of what must be under the cloak made his mouth salivate. Hayley could all but feel the giant man’s eager, exploratory gaze.
Pivoting, Hayley pointed at a doorway on the right in question. Lude’s face blushed at being caught red-handed, and his breath caught in his throat.
“Which one is Locke’s?” she asked teasingly.
“Hmm? Oh, yes, um, yes. Um, it is dat one,” the fiercest supernatural hunter that had ever existed stammered while pointing to a room at the far end.
“Let me guess…John?” Hayley asked as she pointed to the lone room she had first noted.
“Yes.”
“Wowww,” Hayley drawled in amazement. “Locke and John get their own entire shipping container rooms? But four of you share one? Doesn’t seem fair, does it.” It was more of a statement than a question.
“He lets us live here for free, including groceries.”
From somewhere far away, Ludvig could almost swear he heard someone yell, “I knew it!” though it might have been a trick of the mind.
“Besides, we each have our container. They are just laid out longways. I don’t fink they were expecting dis many people to live here. When dey invited Magni and me to join de team, dey had to move Depweg and Joey’s room, which had been laid out like Locke’s and John’s.”
“Where is Joey?” Hayley asked, looking around the modest home.
“Oh, right! I was supposed to give dis note to Depweg and John.” Ludvig held out the crumpled note and Hayley took it.
“It says ‘Joey, went for ambush. Please message and let us know you made it back.—Locke.’ Why didn’t he just text him?”
“Um, I fink Locke said his phone was off or somefing.” Ludvig’s expression soured in an instant as his eyes stared off at the wall, unfocused.
“What is it?” Hayley asked, tentatively.
“Ulric said he had a guest waiting,” the most prolific supernatural hunter registered as his eyes looked at the note in Hayley’s hand. “And Joey never came back.”
“Oh. Should we tell them?” Hayley asked as she looked up to the ceiling.
“Not yet. You said you can help Locke, yes?”
“I hope so,” Hayley admitted.
“Den let’s make sure he isn’t just hunting deer in de woods or somefing first. Locke can find him.” As Ludvig spoke, there was a hesitance in his tone.
“Why wouldn’t we just tell the dudes upstairs?” Hayley asked directly with a scrunched brow.
“Because Depweg, um…” Ludvig tried to find the words.
“Wouldn’t handle it well,” Hayley admitted. Being on the Council allowed her to be privy to any and all supernatural-related news, especially when it came to a giant feral werewolf on the loose murdering hundreds of mortals.
“Yes,” Ludvig concurred with a shoulder-heaving sigh.
“You have a good heart. Let’s help Locke and see what we can do,” Hayley suggested with a forced smile as she grabbed the handle leading to Locke’s room and gently turned it. It was dark inside, as you might expect an underground lair to be. Only a dim lamp on a table next to Locke’s massive bed—covered in masculine maroon and black accessories—illuminated the room.
Locke didn’t stir when Hayley and Ludvig entered. Still holding the stone, Warden Broadway approached the side of the bed where Locke was curled in a fetal position. A waste bin sat on the ground just underneath with an opaque liquid and small chunks of mostly digested food.
Looking at the former warlock, Hayley felt his brow with a frown. A layer of warm sweat coated his skin like ominous dew droplets on blades of grass.
“He’s dying,” Warden Broadway stated with complete confidence.
“What do we do? I’ve already tried healing him wid my abilities, but nofing has worked.”
“Your accent is adorable,” Hayley said with a smile as she looked at the confused paladin-mage.
With the stone still in hand, Hayley pushed it into Locke’s limp fingers. It stayed as she pulled away.
Bowing her head and closing her eyes, the wizard Hayley Broadway, a powerful member of the feared wardens and enforcer of the Council, began chanting in a language Ludvig didn’t understand.
With eyes transfixed on the stone, Lude’s mouth gaped open as the sigil on the stone began to pulse and glow, growing brighter as Hayley spoke.
Locke’s limp fingers tightened around the stone to the point where the pads and knuckles began turning white from the force. He began shaking; shallow gasps galloped from his heaving chest creating a series of waves from sternum to stomach like the ocean crashing into the beach. His head rocked back and forth and his eyes roamed at impossible speeds just underneath their lids, like watching a video of someone in REM sleep on fast-forward.
Hayley watched in fascination and the grin on her face stretched into an excited smile that reached from ear to ear as light began to emanate from Locke’s skin.
Epilogue—Part 2
Lily stood at the base of the frozen throne of the Winter Court, her gaze sullenly drinking in the scene. The light tiptoeing through the windows was perpetually filtered by a thick, gray cloud cover over the lands. Over her lands.
Taylor was by her side with a small gathering of the remaining Fae nobles to bear witness to Lily’s ascension as Queen of Air and Darkness. She looked at those gathered, feeling a lump of coldness in her gut that might be mistaken for disgust at no one else being able to step up and claim the throne. Only a Fae noble could be queen or king. And of the remaining nobles, only Lily had the strength to sacrifice that which she loved for the greater good.
If she were to peer at herself in a mirror and speak only factual truth instead of an emotional lie, Lily would admit that wasn’t actually the case. Taylor and the other nobles weren’t skirting their responsibility. Only one as old as Lily could keep her mind intact enough to rule without declaring war on the Seelie Court and Midworld. Still, it made it easier to loathe those in the audience for making her lose the one she loved. In all her incalculable time of existence, she had only given her heart to three men. Though her first love had been one of convenience, if she were being honest with herself. Now she was being forced to cut short what promised to be a love purer than the others. The coldness grew in her stomach, and she didn’t know if it was a building hate, or a deep sorrow that disguised itself as gestating anger.
A single tear slipped from the corner of one eye as she leaned her head forward and let out a long, shuddering breath. Taylor moved the crown comprised of ice that no fire could ever melt into position with a stoic face. He knew the sacrifice she was making in order to maintain the balance for both Faerie and Midworld. There was a pang of sorrow in his chest, knowing that the love that had been blooming into a strong, fruitful tree had been cut while just a sapling. It was clear to him that what they had been cultivating had had the potential of unlimited growth, enough to even reach the moon.
The crown slipped perfectly over her head, and the wet tear that had made it to the corner of Lily’s lips froze in place, forming a permanent line from eye to lip. An air of frost cascaded from the crown, coating Lily in a sheer aura as thin as a wedding veil. An elegant gown comprised of fresh snow formed around her frame, with glinting snowflakes throughout.
Her eyes, which had been all shades of alluring colors in the past based on Lily’s mood, shifted for the final time to a blue so pale as to easily be mistaken for white. The blackness of her pupils became more prominent in contrast to their new surroundings.
“All hail the Queen of Air and Darkness. All hail Queen Lilith of the Unseelie Court. Long live the Queen,” TalGoid, King of the Seelie, proclaimed for all to hear.
“Long live Queen Lilith,” the crowd murmured in unison. “Long live the Queen.”
A malicious smile grew on Queen Lilith’s face, almost mistaken as a show of teeth, as eyes as deep as ice regarded the
audience. Canines elongated to surgical points while white eyes glowed crimson. Adam’s first wife, cast from Eden, scanned the beings she had created eons ago with a stern, motherly pride. Lilith had known the day would come when her plane called upon her once more. She had been absent for far too long.
“Long. Live. The Queen,” the Mistress of Air and Darkness—the Mother of all Vampires—purred as a plume of white mist escaped her mouth and drifted up her face to mingle with the cascading frost of the crown. A crimson hue flooded the fog like a spotlight in the rain. Her reign had begun anew.
If you enjoyed John’s shenanigans, turn the page for a sample of WHAT THE HELL—book 5 in the Preternatural Chronicles.
Or get your ebook copy HERE:
argentopublishing.com/l/1306082
TEASER: WHAT THE HELL (BOOK 5)
The Grand Master Warlock Vampire, Ulric, confidently strolled into a humid, dimly lit room with an impressive plastic prison cell in the center. Four small holes were spread evenly on each panel, providing a modicum of oxygen for the unfortunate occupant. The cell was ten by five and inside a twelve-by-twelve bedroom. Two windows were boarded up, preventing any light from shining through. Only a single weak yellow bulb above the cell provided any illumination. The air was dense with the metallic smell of old blood and the sharp aroma of ammonia.
At the center of the prison cell, held in place with silver restraints on a metal chair, sat Joey Caruso. The were’s head hung low from hunger and exhaustion. The dried blood that coated the front of Joey’s shirt flaked and cracked as he jerked awake. Both his eyes were horrifically bruised, with one completely swollen shut. His nose sat askew on his pummeled face, jutting at an awkward angle. The vamlock had beaten the werewolf over and over again until his healing had ceased, allowing his hunger to grow to uncontrollable levels.
