by M. K. Gibson
Yolly cocked his head to his side. “You going soft on me, Jackson?”
“Gods above and below, no. I’m upset that I’m not there in a way to profit from it.”
“HA!” Yolly laughed. “That’s my boy. So, what did you do with all the other you’s back in the comic realm?”
“Leased them back to King Stanley as stand-in villains. I get a stipend of his power in payment.” I smiled, then looked over at King Stanley, who was once more sitting at the godly kids’ table. “Hey Yolly.”
“Hmm?”
“What’s the deal?” I inclined my head towards the old deity. “If the comic universe is that old, and that powerful, how come King Stanley sits at the little table?”
“Oh, that. Sometimes I forget you’re a relative baby god. The One isn’t the same being for all time. Different deities assume the mantle every few eons. King Stanley was the previous incarnation of The One. As such, he’s a bit frazzled from the job. It’s why he’s . . . well, him.”
“Do you have a point?” I asked the demon.
“Patience, patience,” Yolly said, putting his arm over my shoulder. “That comic realm is the first universe, you see. Well, a rebooted incarnation, if you will.”
“The first? But I thought my world, The Prime universe, was the first.”
“Gods below, no,” Yolly laughed. “The Prime universe came after. The comic universe was the testing phase for The Prime. Physics, time, matter, anti-matter, heroes, villains, gods and legends, all of it came from that universe in its earliest incarnation. So, one of the jobs of the Retired One is to be the caretaker of that ancient universe. It’s the place where wonderment is born and tested. It’s why your Prime Universe is compelled to record the deeds of the wicked and the divine.”
“So Randy was this close to—”
“Becoming a supergod? Yeah. You did the multiverse a favor by stopping him. Of course, you’re also the reason it all almost went tits-up as well.”
I nodded at this new information, cataloging it for a future time when I could exploit it.
“Of course, it does beg another few questions,” Yolly said, scratching his chin.
“Hmm?”
“Oh, come off it. I know you’re curious.”
I nodded. “Where did Randy get the idea, the influence, and the ability to capture two gods?”
“Exactly,” Yolly said. “Being a demi-god means he has the ability to go against the natural flow of the universes, but he shouldn’t have the raw power or the insider knowledge.”
“And it damn well wasn’t Khasil,” I said.
“Nope,” Yolly agreed. “She is content playing with her own toys in her own universe. In fact, most of the High Gods are. Now someone from The Never Realm, or one of its suburbs—they would have the knowledge, and drive.”
“You confessing, Yolly?” I asked.
The demon shook his head. “Nah. I know my place. I also like our agreement. Twenty-five percent of your soul binding contracts coming back to me is quite lucrative. All I’m saying is you need to watch your back, brother. There is another player out there. One who set you up.”
“I think you’re right.” I nodded, thinking about which of my potential enemies gained enough clout to move against me. It was then that my phone vibrated. I looked down at it, reading the message.
“Huh, would you look at that? Excuse me, Yolly. I have to get back to my dimension.”
“Problem?”
“Depends on how you look at it.”
“What? Did Lydia discover you left Wraith Knight behind, and had Myst masquerade as him so you could keep your mistress close?”
“Yolly, what kind of animal do you take me for?” I said, feigning disgust and following with a chuckle.
“A villain?”
“True.” I nodded. “But Lydia figured that shit out within the first thirty seconds of me getting home. But to Lydia’s credit, she let Myst live. Provided Myst serve as a live-in nanny and that we work out a certain . . . schedule.”
“Schedule? What? Like times when Myst is allowed to be a woman, or a man, involved in your sex life?” Yolly asked with a belly-shaking laugh. “Like Myst has to turn into that black man Lydia saw you in bed with and occasionally serve as the second horn in a Devil’s Threeway! Ha!”
I said nothing. Instead I pursed my lips, and nodded slightly.
Yolly’s eyes went wide. “No shit?”
“No shit. Neither Lydia nor I care about occasional dalliances. We’re villains, after all.”
“So what’s the problem then?”
“Hmm? Oh, yes,” I said, looking down at my phone and the message. “She’s going into labor.”
Yolly threw his arms wide. “Then what the sweet stink of sulfur are you doing still talking to me?”
I shrugged. “Obviously delaying the inevitable. But I meant what I said. I love her. And the child—our child—will only bring blessings. I can’t wait to be a dad.”
“Need an Ungodly-Father?” the demon asked in earnest.
“We’ll talk. See you, Yolly.”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Where I Take the Plunge, Experience a Miracle, and Get Bamboozled
An angry voice roared across my realm.
“Arrgh!! Jackson fucking Blackwell! I’ll rip your dick off and beat you with it!”
“I see Lydia’s contractions are getting closer together,” I said to Sophia as I came through the portal in my office.
My waiting receptionist nodded and handed me a tumbler with two fingers of scotch. “Yes sir, they are. She’s had several few choice words. Mostly involving large, jagged objects and your various orifices, sir.”
“Considering her sexual appetite, I call that a Tuesday. OK, what’s the status?” I asked, downing the drink in one swallow.
“Intense, sir. Very intense.”
Nodding, I tossed the tumbler over my shoulder and stormed through my waiting room. I got no more than seven steps before a mummified creature blocked my path. A withered, bandaged hand pressed hard against my chest.
“Jackson Blackwell!” The Dread Lich Lord Morakesh said. “I’ve been waiting to speak with you now for two books! I will not be ignored any longer.”
I looked down at the hand, then into Morakesh’s dead eyes.
“Lord Morakesh, you are between me and my unborn child. You have one second to get your fucking hand off me or I will dissect you and scatter your pieces across the void. Being ever living I think you will find it unpleasant.”
“My apologies Shadow Master,” Morakesh said, lowering his eyes as he removed his hand. “I-I just wanted to be seen.”
“You didn’t have an appointment when you arrived.” I said, walking past the Lich and his undead retainers.
“You will have to wait your turn,” Sophia added, “but remember, the Blackwell Evil Consulting Agency respects all its valued clients!”
I rushed though the pocket dimension, into the living quarters, and finally to our bedroom where Lydia was lying with her knees up and a sheet over her legs.
Gods above and below. The good sheets. Damn it.
Myst was down by . . . um . . . the business end of things. Before coming back, I made sure she had the knowledge of an obstetrician implanted into her mind. Serving as a midwife, Myst resembled more of her Doris form rather than the femme fatale.
My sister Paige was beside Lydia’s head, holding her hand and coaching her. “Julie, where have you been? She needs you.”
“First, dear sister, watch it with that Julie shit. You’re only alive because I allow it, so learn your place. Second, I was at the formal meeting of the gods, receiving my absolution. And if you do not understand, then imagine all the times you had to go to court for unpaid tickets. But unlike you, I didn’t have to blow the judge to receive my pardon.”
“Oh that only happened, like, eight times.”
“Shut UP! Both of you!!” Lydia said, thrashing her head into her pillow. “Jackson, I need you.”
/> “I’m here, I’m here,” I said in a soothing voice, kneeling to her left beside the bed.
“I know we already forgave one another,” Lydia said, squinting her eyes in pain, “but I’m sorry. I’m so sorry for everything.”
“Shh,” I hushed her. “Don’t worry about it. We both said things. It’s behind us. Right now, there is only you, me, and our child. That’s all that matters to me.”
“Do you mean that?”
“I do.”
“Jackson . . . I--I want to ask you something.”
“Anything.”
“I--I want to be married. Will you marry me?”
“Afuckingsaywhat?” I blurted, my eyebrows shooting up. “I thought you liked being just, you know, together.”
Lydia let go of mine and Paige’s hand and cupped them over her face, sobbing. After a moment, she wiped away her tears and sweat.
“That’s what all girls say and it’s bullshit,” she half gasped and half cried, “but I was a bastard, born out of wedlock. I don’t want our child being one.”
“Uh . . .”
“Fuck!” Lydia screamed. “Never mind! I don’t want this baby or anything to do with you.”
“Little late for that, dear,” Myst said from under the sheet.
“Shut up, you home-wrecking whore!” Lydia screamed.
“I didn’t wreck anything, Mistress Lydia. And if you don’t mind, I’m in the middle of something down here.”
“Fine,” I said suddenly. Of all the rash, stupid decisions I’ve ever made . . .
But was this one of them? I thought I’d exorcised all my youthful brashness. But there, in that moment, with the mother of my child, my diabolical equal, how could I say no?
When you’re lucky enough to find the person who accepts you for you, faults and virtues, the decision is easy. Convincing your brain to take that next step, though—that’s the hard part. You have to swallow your pride and know that you are incomplete without the other person.
Besides, pencils have erasers for a reason. Divorce was always an option. In my case, though, it would be a case of deicide.
“Yes, I’ll marry you. It’s about time anyway,” I said. “I love you. Of that I have no doubt.”
“We have to do it before the baby comes!” Lydia panted.
“That’s a little more difficult.”
“Please!”
“You all might want to hurry,” Myst said.
“I hope I shit on you!” Lydia screamed.
“You already did.”
“Good!” Lydia yelled, then looked up at me. “Can’t you make a godly decree?”
“I’m a god. I’m not ordained.”
“I am,” Sophia said. “I did it online a while back. Remember, sir? So I could bless that water you used at that vampire kid’s baptism in the gothic fantasy realm.”
“Oh yeah.” I smiled. “Good times. Fine fine fine. Just say the words.”
“Uh, OK,” Sophia said, coming to stand beside us at the bed. “Do you, Julian Jackson Blackwell, take Lydia Petunia Barrowbride as your wife, now and forever?”
“Petunia?”
“JACKSON!” all the women in the room said at once.
“Fuck! Fine! Yes!”
“And do you, Lydia Petunia Barrowbride, take Julian Jackson Blackwell as your husband, now and forever?”
“I do.”
“Then by the power vested in me by the internet, I pronounce you man and wife.”
I looked at Lydia, who looked up at me . . .
And laughed in my face.
In fact, they were all laughing.
“HA! Well, I’m glad that shit’s over with,” Lydia said as every trace of anger, pain, and weariness vanished from her face.
A wave of power flowed from Lydia as she reached down, under the sheet. She wiggled for a moment, then pulled the sheet back. In her hands was a beautiful baby girl, wrapped in a light green blanket.
Lydia stood up, holding the baby in one arm and wiping away the sweat with her other. “You’re right. Those improv and acting classes are useful. Here,” she said, handing the child to me.
“Wait—what?” I babbled, feeling confused, awkwardly trying to hold my daughter.
“I’m a goddess now, Jackson. Even before the marriage. Do you think I was going to go through real labor and possibly tear my taint? Villain, please. I just used a bit of power to adjust my, uh, what did you call it, Sophia?”
“Lady canal,” Sophia offered.
“Yes, my lady canal, and poof, out comes the baby.”
“Uh . . .” I said, dumbstruck.
“Close your mouth, husband,” Lydia said, kissing me on the cheek. “Out there, you’re the all-powerful Shadow Master. But here, you’re my bitch. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I haven’t had a real drink for quite a while.”
“What about breast feeding?” I yelled, now feeling furious.
“I’ll burn the alcohol out of my system.”
“Isn’t she hungry now?”
“She’s a goddess, she’ll be fine,” Lydia said. “But just in case, tell your shifter whore—sorry, nanny mistress—to turn into a wet nurse.”
“What’s her name?” I asked, feeling confused and furious at the same time.
Hmm . . . confurious?
“Do I have to do everything?” Lydia asked, walking out of the room. “Pick something nice and don’t screw it up. Now, where’s the real scotch?”
Before Lydia left the room, she paused, grabbed something from the bookshelf in our room, and handed it to me.
It was a copy of Villains Rule.
“I don’t understand.”
“Know your own work, husband,” she said, emphasizing the word. “Chapter thirty-four, page two hundred eleven. When we were in General Anders’s lair. Khasil came to you and asked you to sell me to her. If I was a minion of hers, as she insinuated in the beginning of this book, why would she want you to sell me to her in the last book?”
I stood there, dumbfounded. I did not like it.
Lydia kissed me on the cheek. “Hack.”
She gave the baby a quick kiss and left.
Behind me, I saw Paige and Myst exchanging money with Sophia.
“Wait, what are you doing?”
“I bet them you’d marry her, sir,” Sophia said, counting her money. “They said you’d never do it. So I gave them excellent odds.”
“You what?!”
“Shh, sir. Don’t scream in front of the baby,” Sophia said, leading Myst and Paige out of the bedroom. She stopped beside me, and gave me a hug. I’m glad you’re back, sir.”
With that, she and the rest left me alone in the room.
With my daughter.
I sat down on the bed with the baby in my arms. I looked down at her, into her beautiful green eyes. “I was played. In my own home. Can you believe it?”
In my mind, I heard a tiny voice, barely a whisper, as my daughter’s godly power connected with my own.
Yeah yeah, that sucks for you. But how many worlds does a baby have to enslave to get a big tit of warm milk?
She was, without a doubt, my daughter.
My . . . Evie.
Superhero Fun Fact #12
Former leader of the X-Men Cyclops left his first wife Madelyne Pryor and their child to be with his previous girlfriend who returned from the dead, Jean Grey.
Years later, while married to Jean Grey, ol’ Cyclops had a psychic affair with Emma Frost, which later turned physical. And of course, he left Jean shortly after that.
Epilogue
Where I Reveal Consequences and Surprises and Get My First Review
Randy sat across my desk from me. His eyes practically seethed hatred as they settled on mine. His mother, Paige, sat beside him, holding his reluctant hand. Neither of them looked happy.
Good. They weren’t supposed to be.
It has always been my business practice that employees should be a little uneasy around their boss. Especially when the boss, me, wa
s a vengeful god. But even a vengeful god could use the carrot instead of the stick from time to time.
And if the carrot didn’t work, I’d just shove it up their butts.
I held a napping Evie in my arms. I looked over at Sophia and Myst, who were sitting on my office couch, and nodded to them. The two women stood, walked over, and presented Randy and Sophia each with a soul-bind contract.
“Sign,” I ordered them.
“Randy,” Paige said. “Just do it.”
Randy crossed his arms. “Why?” It was clear he wasn’t asking his mother. His gaze never wavered from me. “Why do this?”
“It is rather simple, Nephew,” I said, looking down at my baby daughter as she smiled. “Thanks to your cousin, I’ve been given a new sense of perspective. A new outlook for the future.”
“Explain.”
Myst’s hand turned to vapor for a moment, reforming into a blade at Randy’s throat. “You should mind your manners, boy.”
“Uncle, do something about the help, would you?”
While Myst looked at me for approval, I shook my head. To his credit, Randy never flinched.
“I applaud your loyalty, Myst, but this is family. Randy’s attitude, while surly, stems from a deep-seated hatred of being beaten by me. Twice. So, a little familiarity in his tone is to be expected. Please be so kind as to see if Lydia needs anything. And don’t let her molest you or anything. You’re our new ally, not a slave or servant.”
“I know, Jackson. Lydia is—interesting.” Myst smiled. “With a few scotches in her, she has quite the appetite.”
“Just keep it to a deafening roar,” I said. “One of us has to take care of Evie.”
Myst nodded, and left the room.
“As I was saying, Nephew, you have twice tried to ruin me. And twice you have failed. And the only reason you failed is because you’ve gone up against me. Had it been anyone else, I believe you would have succeeded. So, what’s the old adage about keeping enemies closer than friends? I want you close to me, in a manner of speaking. Sign those contracts and, yes, you will be bound to me. But I am also offering you the one thing your mother wanted for you when you two came to see me before the Caledon affair.”
