Lost Hope (Wildcat Wizard Book 6)

by Al K. Line

  "What?"

  "I don't know," she snapped, looking angry. "Sorry."

  "It's okay." It broke my heart to see her like this. We never shouted at each other. She loved me and protected me, I loved her too, plus she was scary so I never raised my voice. I'm dumb, not utterly stupid.

  I milled about doing pointless stuff while Sasha guided Juice over to a chair and had him sit. It was nice having him like this. Quiet.

  Realization hit about the fact we'd been gone for a week, so I told Sasha I'd be back soon and went to check on everything outside.

  Damn, the chickens and pigs would be starving, or dead, and who knew how the horses would be? Had George's staff been every day? I hoped so. The two young girls who worked a few mornings, and weekends, were reliable, but they were young kids, horse nuts, so couldn't be expected to run things on their own.

  The chickens were fine, pecking about the place, well fed and watered, and hadn't seemed to miss me in the slightest, the ungrateful sods. Same for the pigs. They were sleeping happily in their large barn, a luxurious accommodation for pigs.

  I traipsed across the fields, the grass dry and short because of the heat and lack of rain, and went into the stable block where each horse had its own stall. As I walked down the center of the stables, horses snorted and followed my passing. They had food, fresh straw and hay, and all seemed well. I checked the board where George had a rota and the girls had filled it in as they should; my note was still pinned there.

  I read what I'd written, surprised by my foresight. I'd said George was unwell, not to disturb her, and that could they please look after all the animals until I said otherwise. I'd also promised a good tip. I had to hand it to them, they were a lot more responsible than I was at their age.

  I made a few calls, thanked them both for their hard work, apologized for going missing, saying something had come up. They agreed to run things for a few more days, and I promised a super large bonus for their time and effort. They grumbled, but agreed, and with that settled I went back to the house.

  A week away made everything feel strange, as if I had to adjust to this being my home again even though for me it had been no time at all since I was last here. Events like this mess with your head, put you out of step with the shifting of the days, the natural progression of things. My body clock was whacked, like I'd taken a long distance flight non-stop around the world several times.

  Exhausted, that's what I was. Worried, hurting, tired, confused, and at a loss.

  Time to get some answers from Sasha and find out how to deal with this problem once and for all.

  "No sign of Vicky?" I asked when I returned to the kitchen.

  Sasha looked up from where she was sitting at the table, head hung low. "No, probably still showering."

  "Why don't you get cleaned up too?" I offered, knowing she would be feeling miserable without her sparkle.

  "I think I will. We can talk in a while, okay?"

  "Of course." I smiled at her before we hugged, and then she went upstairs.

  Sasha was in a terrible state, worse than I'd imagined. Her spark was gone, almost extinguished, and I knew this would take time to recover from. It wasn't even over yet, not by a long shot.

  It was an hour later that I jolted awake and realized I was still alone, apart from Juice, who was seemingly dozing now. I went to check on everyone. I mean, I knew they liked to spend time in the shower, but this was ridiculous.

  Upstairs, I glanced into the guest rooms, found them empty, nobody in the bathrooms, so went to look in on George, my panic rising. Had they been taken again? I don't think any of us could have handled that.

  I eased George's bedroom door open and stood there, silent as a mouse. There on the bed were three women curled up against each other. Their damp hair glowed by the light from the open door. Each wore a pair of George's pajamas, and each whimpered in their sleep.

  I eased the door shut and smiled. They needed their rest. This could wait until tomorrow.

  A Long Night

  I didn't even go to bed, I knew there was no point. My head was whirling with unanswered questions, and I was afraid for the women upstairs. There seemed to be little rhyme or reason to any of this. It was sheer madness.

  Sasha had answers, or thought she did, but something told me that whatever she had to say wouldn't be the whole picture, far from it. If she knew who was responsible, really knew, then she wouldn't have been off sleeping upstairs, she would be tearing them apart, slowly.

  Something was missing from all this, a piece of the puzzle that once found would make everything else slot into place. I had no idea what that might be, so I sat at my kitchen table, Juice snoring soundly, which was annoying, and went over and over the last few days trying to find a commonality between it all. What was it?

  We had Juice and the Hangman, that was the start of the troubles, then George had called and said Sasha had been taken. What next? George and Vicky had been taken too, I'd had several run-ins with the Hangman, and then we went to rescue them. Oh, and the corpse at Vicky's. That needed cleaning away, and I wondered if the Cleaner would do it. She wasn't happy about me sending her on a wild goose chase. That could wait, as it might offer a clue. I could show it to Sasha, Vicky if I had to, to see if they recognized him. Haha, what was there to recognize?

  What else? Lots, but I couldn't think straight, and wasn't sure that any of it mattered. Someone had taken Sasha, then done the same to George and Vicky. Was it Sasha they were really after? Or was it me maybe? Was this all done to get to me? I couldn't see why, but stranger, more convoluted things had certainly happened in the past.

  That made more sense. Was I getting somewhere? I took a break from thinking; it was damn hard work. Normally I had to do minimal mental gymnastics and plenty of acting, this cerebral stuff was more exhausting as there were seldom any easy answers. Always something convoluted and ridiculous behind the plans implemented by nefarious enemies.

  After yet another coffee while I stretched my legs, I slumped into a chair again and continued my train of thought.

  Okay, so maybe someone was out to get us all. Why go about it like this? And I wasn't taken when the others were. Someone had come into my kitchen and snatched Vicky and George, even took their shoes for them, but they'd left me and Juice behind. Why? And what about Steve? Was he okay, or caged like a wild animal somewhere?

  And why take the women to Faery? Because I wasn't supposed to be able to get there, certainly not stay. They were meant to be out of the picture by being imprisoned there. And who had the power to do that? Other fae. So maybe this had nothing to do with me, and was just fae business we all happened to get caught up in.

  Then I was back to the beginning, nothing making sense. If this was about Sasha and her past, or a more recent enemy, then why involve the rest of us? Aha. George was half fae so she'd be taken in case she tried to help. So that might mean they'd want me and Vicky too.

  In the end, in the early hours of the morning as the day began to brighten and the sun rose, I gave it all up as hopeless. I didn't have any answers, and was no further along than if I'd merely gone to bed and tried to get some sleep.

  I smiled a sneaky smile as I wandered into the cosy living room and fished around until I found the stash of tobacco George hid from me. I made a sneaky roll-up then hurried back to the kitchen like a child stealing sweets before breakfast.

  I pulled aside the huge doors until the wall disappeared, and stepped out onto the patio. A mist covered the valleys, but it was already warm and promised to be a sweltering day. Breathing deeply, I felt the energy of the world fill me, but I was still weary to my very core. Did this nonsense never end? Was there never to be peace for this poor wizard?

  Doubtful. I lit up, inhaled deeply, and savored the nicotine and the harsh hit to my throat. Maybe I was going down the wrong path and this was about something entirely different.

  Well, it was a new day, a new dawn was breaking, and there was one thing I knew for certain. Th
e day would be full of surprises.

  I took another drag, with a sinking feeling that this was the only peace I'd get for a while.

  A New Dawn

  I was loathe to return inside, so I watched the dawn break and the mist slowly dissipate. My mind cleared as the verdant grass was revealed. Everyone was safe, at least for now, and that was something.

  Maybe I should bang my head against a wall, get some insight, as I couldn't get my head around any of this. There had to be a common factor that tied this all together, something that linked it all, that would explain why they were taken and how.

  You simply don't go around kidnapping faeries, they won't let you. So it had to be a very powerful faery. As soon as Sasha was awake I'd get her to tell me everything she knew. She had an idea who this was, what it was all about, and I needed to know. For the first time ever, I realized that my faery godmother was actually the one causing the trouble, not the other way around. Comes to something when you have to protect the one who's meant to be safeguarding you.

  Then, like a bolt out of the blue, I realized exactly what was going on. How could I have been so blind, so stupid? It was obvious. It was the one thing that connected everything, that set this all off. It had to be.

  With a growl, I moved to turn to go back inside, but gasped as a piercing pain made my heart feel like it was about to explode. I doubled over, clutching my chest, the sharp tightness worse than the time I stabbed myself with Vicky's blunt bread knife.

  Again, and again, vicious jolts of agony in my chest, each worse than the last.

  I couldn't breathe, couldn't stand up, couldn't call for help or do anything but fall sideways and hit the patio. I didn't even feel it; the rest of me was numb. Grace rolled away from my head then came to rest by my hand. I clutched her tight, the only thing left for me in a world that never made sense.

  This was it, I was sure. The end of the line, the final transition over to the other side.

  After everything I'd been through, all the madness, all the crazy shit I'd done, the death, the narrow escapes, the days of this wildcat wizard were finally numbered in such a mundane, utterly bland manner.

  I was having a heart attack.

  Bad Timing

  The pain vanished as quickly as it had come, so I straightened, sighed, and put Grace back where she belonged. I took in my surroundings, all too familiar. The barren, infinite sky, the placid lake that was the route to whatever eternal afterlife I deserved, the waves lapping gently at the shore of a never-ending, pebble-strewn beach, the flat land receding into a distance that never ended.

  And there, standing at the shore, feet in the water, if he had any feet as all I could see were the familiar long black robes, head lost to shadow deep inside the cowl, scythe of infinite sharpness in hand, was Imaginary Figure of Death. Although, I was now convinced this was no figment of my weary imagination. He was the real deal.

  "Don't tell me this was the last one," I said as I crunched over the tiny pebbles.

  "Eh?" said Death as he turned. "Oh, hi, Arthur. Glad you could make it." Death stared off across the placid waters; if I didn't know better, I'd say he was depressed.

  "What's up? Last time I saw you you were all chipper."

  "Oh, it's nothing," he said, waving his hand, nearly cutting my head off.

  "Hey, watch it with the scythe!"

  "Sorry," said Death, which was unsettling. He didn't apologize, he got annoyed with me for turning up and always getting another chance at life. Had my extra lives finally run out? When I'd got a peek in the ledger last visit, I was sure I had lots of entries left, but I could have been wrong, the handwriting was terrible.

  I stood there awkwardly for a while, not knowing what to do. Pebbles shifted under my feet as the tide lapped morosely. It was really uncomfortable without boots on, and I felt kinda silly dying just in socks. Powerful wizards shouldn't go out wearing socks, it isn't dignified.

  Death continued to stare off over the water, as if waiting for something. It got weird.

  Plus, if I'm being totally honest, I was scared out of my mind. Every time I'd died in the past, my adrenaline was high, someone was shooting me, stabbing me, or breaking bits that ought not to be broken. I'd never once imagined for a moment I could actually, you know, just die like a citizen. Wizards didn't settle into the ultimate sleep in such mundane ways, they went out when they summoned a demon they couldn't handle or had an awesome battle with the truly evilest wizard in the history of wizarding. You wanted it to be epic. It was the wizard way.

  To die because of a tiny bubble in my bloodstream causing a myocardial infarction was depressing, and lame.

  "Can we please just get this over with?" I eventually asked, getting more sullen by the second.

  "Oh, sorry," said Death as he turned.

  Sorry, again? What was with him? "What's up"? I asked, probably the strangest two words I'd ever uttered.

  "Oh, you noticed, did you?" asked Death, shambling over like he had the weight of the world on his shoulders.

  "Kinda hard not to. You're acting all strange, like you're miserable. Death doesn't get fed up, does he? You're, um, Death. Didn't think you had off days."

  Death shrugged. "Dunno, things have just been getting on top of me lately. Remember last time you came, with that little woman."

  "Vicky?"

  "Yes, the one that looks like a child but with a good glare. I was happy then, maybe a little distracted, as I let you take her back. I think I was happy then, not so much now."

  And then I uttered words I never thought I'd utter. "Why don't you tell me about it?"

  Without pause, Death raised his free hand, and a small table and two plain chairs dropped from the heavens, or hells, and landed with a thud on the beach, kicking up dust in a dramatic way, even though there was no dust and everything was kind of damp and a bit soggy, like Death's bad mood had put a damper on the whole environment.

  "If you insist," he said, and the next thing I knew, time jumped and we were sitting opposite each other across the table.

  "It all started..."

  A Strange Confession

  "Whoa! I said, holding my hands up, needing time to prepare. "We're really doing this? You're going to sit and have a chat with me? Tell me your troubles, that kind of thing?"

  "Yes, if that's agreeable? It gets very lonely here, you know. Nobody to talk to for ages, then when people do come, they just moan about it."

  "Hardly surprising, they are dead. And what do you mean, nobody to talk to for ages? I figured you'd be kept pretty busy. People are always dying."

  "I know, I blame the TV or computers. Truth is, I'm not as popular as I once was. Anyway, that's for another time. No, this is about something different."

  "Okay. What?"

  "It's boring."

  "What's boring?"

  "This. Being Death. Hanging around here. There's no variety, nothing changes. I know every pebble on this beach, even counted them."

  "I thought it was infinite?" I asked, dubious.

  "It is," he said, sounding so down in the dumps I had to resist giving him a cuddle.

  "Oh, right."

  The silence stretched out again, and I stared at the pebbles, large and small, shiny or dull, and tried to imagine a life spent counting them all, stretching out for eternity. It was definitely enough to make you depressed, even resentful.

  Death sighed like a bored teenager and slumped in his chair. That seemingly wasn't enough, and he leaned back and put his legs up on the table. It was a very strange sight, because although I was sure he had feet, I couldn't actually see them. It was hazy, a blur of wispy shadow where the cloak ended, hinting at bone and maybe even flesh, but the gaps merely filled in by my imagination.

  "So?" I ventured.

  "So, what's the point?"

  "To what?" I asked, getting more confused by the minute.

  "To all of it. What's the point?"

  "I think you're supposed to be the one answering that, aren't you? Death
can't have an existential crisis, you were never alive."

  "Wasn't I?" he asked cryptically.

  "Were you?" I was intrigued now, despite my predicament.

  "Can't say, it's against the rules."

  "What rules?"

  "The rules, emphasis on The. I'm not allowed to tell humans anything about the afterlife, certainly not about me. Which makes it all the more tiresome. There's no variety, it's a real design flaw."

  "Maybe take up a hobby? What about jigsaws? That's a good way to while away the hours, or days."

  "Done them."

  "Done what?"

  "The jigsaws," said Death. "All of them." He waved a hand and the beach before us was transformed into a sea of completed jigsaws, stretching out as far as I could see.

  "Oh, right. What about, um, knitting, or painting?"

  "No good at it. I'm Death, I don't have the skill set."

  "Right. So, what happened?"

  "Can't say. Not allowed. Things were good, I was happy, which I was surprised at as I'd never had much in the way of emotions before, then I was in a bit of a funk."

  "Dude, I think you're just having a mid-life crisis. It has to be hard, only seeing people after they die. Not a happy experience."

  "Oh," he said, brightening, "that part isn't so bad. It's interesting sometimes, seeing new faces, hearing their stories, getting a glimpse of what comes next. But it gets rather stale after a while, and I keep remembering things, from before."

  "What things?" I was getting a bad feeling about this, like I was on the cusp of learning secrets I ought not to learn. Something inside told me it would be very bad for me to know such secrets. This was Death, you didn't have chats, you got pissed off for being dead.

  Which reminded me.

  "I want to see the ledger," I said, voice firm.

  Death lowered his feet to the ground then straightened. He looked at me, or I assume he did, and said, "You don't need to see it."

  "I want to. This doesn't feel right at all. This feels, dare I say it, like I haven't actually died. I feel different to usual, as though I'm not meant to be here. I've got a lot of crap happening at home at the moment, so I could really do without this."