Falls the Shadow (Sparrow Falls Book 2)

by Justine Sebastian

  “I’m fine,” he said as he stroked a shaking hand down her back. Tobias blinked and tried to explain to himself what had just happened, but could not. He was still drunk, not as drunk, but his head still felt light and fluffy; swimmy. He rubbed his forehead and closed his eyes for a moment. To his left, something big moved softly though the forest and Tobias said, “Hello, Nick. No need to be concerned, all is well here.”

  The noise stopped almost at once, but Tobias knew he was still there, likely drawn by the commotion of the crows and the racket Tobias had undoubtedly been making. He wasn’t afraid of Nick though; Nick was the same kind of creature Calvin Newman had been, but unlike Calvin Newman, Nick was no monster.

  Tobias pushed himself upright, using Hylas’s headstone for leverage until he was on his feet. His legs were shaky and his back still throbbed with pain, though it was fading now. He was going to have to see a doctor about that. Poor doctor, Tobias though with a twinge of amusement. Meanwhile, he thought he would ask Dawn Marie for a muscle relaxer of some sort to keep him until he could see a physician.

  At the entrance of the cemetery, Tobias paused and called back to Nick, “If you find my rum, could you please return it? I’d appreciate it. Thank you.”

  He hobbled back down the path, going slow, being careful. Trying to think. Nearly being jerked out of bed had been bad enough, but not cause for serious alarm because Tobias was used to weirdness; it was part and parcel of being one Tobias Sebastian Dunwalton. What he could not accept was the fact he had looked through his own flesh as though he had been dissolving, being drained away—no, being taken away—to parts unknown without his permission. It made him angry all over again to even think about it. Such hijinks would not stand, which meant he needed to get to the bottom of it; he would not abide such fuckery. The problem, of course, was where to start.

  16

  The force of the blow knocked Jeremy through the air a good six feet. He landed on his back with a pained woof as the air was forced out of his lungs. The ache in his chest was fantastic, bone-deep and throbbing. It hurt to draw breath. For a second, he could only lie there naked and stunned as he tried to breathe. Then he began to smile and a couple of seconds after that, he started laughing. It was hell to do so, each burst of laughter creating an answering burst of pain in his sternum. He thought it might be fractured and while that sucked, it was also the best news he’d had in his entire life.

  The shadow wraiths understood what that meant and they, too, were excited. They covered Jeremy, hissing and whispering, muttering and chittering with delight. He arched his back and moaned as they began to slide inside of him. He swallowed one down and let it fill him up like a balloon. It hurt his chest still, but it was better than any other time. This time it was a celebration and in the end, Jeremy screamed his joy and ecstasy up at the moon shining through the skylight.

  He lay panting and sated afterward, Medusa left to wait on the stone altar. There was still work to do on her, but Jeremy was in no hurry. He was too tired, too content and happy.

  Thanatos was there, he had heard Jeremy’s call and he had gotten a response from him. Then Jeremy frowned: It wasn’t exactly a good response, was it? No, it wasn’t. Thanatos had lashed out at him, had hit him with enough force he’d thrown him through the air. Jeremy sat up and ran his fingers through his hair. What could that mean? The possibilities unraveled in his mind like dry-rotted thread.

  Jeremy was still doing something wrong and had displeased Thanatos.

  Thanatos no longer loved him (no, no, that wasn’t true; it couldn’t be). Jeremy whined pitifully and told himself he would not weep. There had to be another reason. He kept thinking:

  Maybe Thanatos had simply forgotten him. And again: No. It was not true, Jeremy would not accept it.

  He began to rock back and forth, the shadow wraiths wrapping him in their smoky arms, licking away the nervous sweat that popped out on his skin in big drops.

  There had to be something else. Something better. Something less terrifying than that. Jeremy slapped himself upside the head, trying to knock something loose and finally, it came to him:

  Thanatos was an old god, a god not many people either believed in or worshiped any longer. If he had lapsed into deep sleep, abeyant, only to have Jeremy’s call awaken him so rudely, maybe it had angered him. But that made little sense; Thanatos wasn’t some minor god in a massive pantheon that everyone save a few scholars and pagans had forgotten. He was much, much more than that, no matter how the Greeks and Romans had tried to downplay his importance.

  Thanatos was Death, with a capital D. No one simply forgot about Death (or death), they lived in the shadow of his great black wings from the moment they were born; he held dominion over all living things and none escaped. Death (with a capital D), however, was a concept of many people from many backgrounds and religions. He (or occasionally She) took many forms and guises. Even Thanatos had more than one appearance; the winged, beardless youth or the bearded and middle-aged winged man. He was one construct of a million and so many people had forgotten what his face(s) looked like though once he had been solid and real. He still was, but maybe even Thanatos had forgotten who he was.

  Jeremy thrilled at that thought. It sounded so perfect that it couldn’t be wrong.

  Somewhere inside of himself, Thanatos had to know though. Death did not stop being Death even if the general perception of him changed. A god did not cease to be a god simply because no one burned incense in their temple any longer. Thanatos needed to be reminded of who he was, that was all; he had lain dormant for far too long.

  Jeremy stood, relieved and happy again. He could make Thanatos remember; all he had to do was worship him, believe in him. Love him. He’d done that for all of his life (lives) and now all he had to do was concentrate—meditate—on it and wake Thanatos once more. Jeremy believed with a devotion that stepped over the line marking piety and became zealotry. He needed Thanatos like he needed oxygen and he would do what he must to bring him home again.

  He whistled while he finished his work with Medusa and when he was done, Jeremy stood back to admire her. She was a masterpiece, one of the finest beauties he had ever created. His work was cleaner, crisper when he was happy and not distracted by grief or anger. Jeremy brushed the backs of his fingers over her cold cheek then went to stand for the wraiths and let them clean him again. When it was over, Jeremy dressed then wrapped Medusa in a tarp.

  With her cradled in his arms, he spoke a few words, calling the wraiths to him so they gathered in a dense black cloak around him as he left the barn. Without the wraiths he could not have afforded the boldness he’d cultivated as part of his signature over the years. They were the reason no one ever saw him while he was leaving the bodies in plain view for anyone to see. The wraiths made him invisible while he did his work, as devoted to Jeremy’s lifelong task as he was. He fed them and in turn, they protected and shielded him.

  Jeremy laid Medusa out atop a tomb of bronze-colored granite with no date or name other than MAGEE chiseled on the front of it. The morning sun would paint her with rose and gold and anyone driving along would see the girl lying on top of the tomb. Eventually someone would stop and take a closer look, especially when they noticed the buzzards flocked around her, tearing her flesh off.

  “Goodnight, Medusa,” Jeremy said as he backed away. “Thank you.”

  The wraiths moaned and made hushed aww sounds as they swirled around Jeremy and the tomb. They touched Medusa’s body as well, saying their own thanks, bidding her adieu. They tightened ranks around Jeremy again as he went back to his car and whispered in his ears all the way home.

  He opened his mouth to let them climb inside for one last kiss goodnight before sending them back into the barn. He locked the door behind them and called for Barghest as he walked back to the house.

  Inside, he found Mooncricket shirtless and barefoot, swaying on his feet as he stared at the coffee pot with the dull interest of a sleepwalker. He scratched the bridge of h
is nose and didn’t blink.

  “Hey,” Jeremy said as he came up behind Mooncricket and wrapped his arms around him.

  “Where’d you go?” Mooncricket asked after a while.

  “Out into the great, big world,” Jeremy said.

  “Cool,” Mooncricket said, the response as automatic as breathing. “No. Wait. I wanna go out into the… the world with you. I mean, like… I stay here all the… all the time. Can’t we go do something that’s not, ya know, in Sparrow Falls?”

  “Sure.” Jeremy nuzzled the back of his neck then nipped him. “What do you want to do?”

  “I dunno,” Mooncricket said. “Stuff.”

  “Stuff, huh?” Jeremy asked as he took Mooncricket’s narrow waist in his hands and turned him around. When he stumbled to the side, Jeremy tightened his grip and kept him steady as he backed him toward the breakfast table. “What kind of stuff?”

  “Uh-huh,” Mooncricket said. “I wanna do all kinds of stuff. Like… stuff.”

  Jeremy laughed softly then kissed Mooncricket, letting go of his waist to cup the sides of his face and draw him closer. Mooncricket went without protest, hands finding Jeremy’s shoulders and twisting in the fabric of his shirt as he held onto him.

  “Will this kind of stuff keep you, do you think, for a little while?” Jeremy asked as he popped open the button on Mooncricket’s loose jeans.

  “Yeah, I think so,” Mooncricket said. He blinked at Jeremy, bright eyes glazed and yet alert as he gazed at him. His brow furrowed then smoothed again as he found the words he needed. “You seem, like, happy.”

  “I am,” Jeremy said with a nod. He licked Mooncricket’s bottom lip then bit it hard enough Mooncricket hissed then moaned softly. “So, so happy.”

  “Awesome,” Mooncricket said. “You’re never happy. I think… yeah… I think I like happy Jeremy.”

  “Awesome,” Jeremy echoed as he tugged Mooncricket’s zipper down then took his cock in his hand.

  “Whoa,” Mooncricket said with a little gasp as he looked down to watch what Jeremy was doing. He jumped with surprise when his back bumped into the table then he grinned. “It’s like that, huh?”

  Jeremy laughed as he pushed Mooncricket down on the breakfast table. “It really, really is like that,” he said as he pulled Mooncricket’s jeans the rest of the way off and tossed them aside.

  Mooncricket relaxed back on the table, propped up on his elbows as he spread his legs for Jeremy to step between them. “Rock on,” Mooncricket said with a laugh that Jeremy smothered with another kiss. Mooncricket wrapped his long legs around his waist and tightened them, drawing Jeremy closer as his smothered laugh became another moan.

  Jeremy fisted one hand in Mooncricket’s hair the way he knew he liked it and took the invitation Mooncricket was offering. He fucked Mooncricket, listened to his moans and gasps, his soft cries of pain-pleasure and thought of his success. Thought of his task.

  Thought of Thanatos and his black wings.

  17

  After a lot of thinking and leeriness about falling asleep, Tobias determined that he wasn’t being toyed with by any outside force. All of the fuckery that had been dogging him of late came from inside his own head. The first time had been an extension of his nightmare. The second was a vivid hypnopompic hallucination brought on by stress and depression that had further been driven mad by his back spasm—and over-imbibing alcohol before passing out in a cemetery. He’d gone home that early morning, taken another bottle from the bar (whiskey that time) and drank himself back to sleep. The next day had been spent lying in bed when he wasn’t vomiting up the water Dawn Marie patiently plied him with until late that evening when he ventured outside for some fresh air and found the bottle of rum he’d lost in the cemetery on the back veranda.

  To the best of his ability, Tobias shoved any further thoughts of the strange events from his mind and focused on work and gardening. He finished a column for The Era Leader and turned it in to Wes who was genuinely surprised to find out Tobias was The Green Man. Hylas had kept secrets well, that was for sure. Tobias immediately started working on another article for the paper after that one and he filled his evenings with that after work.

  He wasn’t thinking about the article though as he looked down at the still face of Kimiko Busby and sighed. His little postcard had either gone unheeded or he’d been too late in sending it. Kimiko didn’t look all that ill, but she’d probably refused treatment once she found out how serious her condition was and cause of death was actually listed as suicide. There were no marks on her thin little body and Tobias determined it had been an overdose.

  “She was such a nice lady,” Dawn Marie said as she combed out Kimiko’s hair. “Why would she kill herself?”

  “She was dying,” Tobias said.

  “Oh.” Dawn Marie frowned down at Kimiko then glanced up at Tobias. “Did you tell her?”

  “I tried,” Tobias said as he applied a very light dusting of blush to her cheekbones. The trick wasn’t to swipe it on all it once; the trick was to slowly build the color up to mimic a natural, healthy glow. For someone who did not wear make-up, Tobias was an expert cosmetologist. He’d even done Dawn Marie’s make-up for their senior prom. “I think maybe I was too late.”

  “That’s a shame,” Dawn Marie said. “You tried though.”

  “I almost always do,” Tobias said as he swirled the brush through more blusher then tapped off the excess.

  “Almost?” Dawn Marie asked.

  “I couldn’t save Hylas, could I?”

  “Fuck.” She began to braid Kimiko’s long, silky hair. “Did you… Uh… Did you—”

  “Know?” Tobias asked. Dawn Marie nodded. “No, I didn’t. I was afraid to look.”

  Dawn Marie stopped braiding Kimiko’s hair to reach out and give his hand a quick squeeze.

  “I get it, you know,” she said. “Why you would have been afraid to. Don’t blame yourself.”

  “Then who am I supposed to blame?”

  “How about the son of a bitch that fell asleep behind the wheel and actually did it?”

  “If I had looked then that son of a bitch would have just driven into a light pole instead of Hylas.”

  “Toby.” Dawn Marie stopped working entirely, Kimiko’s hair draped over her palm like a black and silver scarf. “Look at me.”

  He sighed and glanced up to meet her eyes. “What?”

  “Stop it,” she said. “I mean it. You have got to stop doing this to yourself. It’s not your fault. You’re not responsible for what happened and if you keep blaming yourself for it all you’re going to do is give yourself ulcers right before you kill yourself with the fucking guilt.” Dawn Marie nodded her head down to indicate Kimiko Busby lying there on their table. “It doesn’t matter that you have psychic powers or whatever you call… whatever it is that you have. You cannot save everyone.” She let go of Kimiko’s hair to reach out and frame Tobias’s face with both hands, holding his head steady when he tried to look away from her. “Maybe not even Hylas. Don’t you get that?”

  “Getting it and having it matter are two different things,” Tobias said. He reached up and gently removed her hands from his face. “I’ll be all right, I promise. No ulcers. No death-by-guilt. None of that.”

  “No more drinking yourself sick?”

  “I make no guarantees there.”

  “Then at least have the common decency to get drunk with me so I can hold your hair back when you puke.”

  “You are too kind, my dear lady,” Tobias said with a wisp of a smile.

  “No, I’m considerate,” she said. “Kind would be if I let you puke on my feet and didn’t get mad about it.”

  Tobias laughed softly as he picked up the blush brush again and went back to work.

  “Of course,” he said.

  They finished work on Kimiko Busby, the process made quicker by her wish not to be embalmed. She’d died that morning and her funeral was planned for the next day. It was best to get the fresh ones out of
the air and into the ground as soon as possible. Kimiko wouldn’t actually go into her casket until the next morning; to leave an un-embalmed corpse out in the cool air of even the funeral home where it verged on being frigid was still too risky.

  While Dawn Marie cleaned up their workstation, Tobias carried Kimiko back to the drawer she was to be kept in until then. He’d just closed it when someone knocked at the heavy rear exit door.

  “Are you expecting someone?” Tobias asked. “Chris from Mandeville, perhaps?”

  “Ugh, no,” Dawn Marie said. “That didn’t work out. Remind me to tell you about that later. What a loser.”

  What a surprise, Tobias thought then cringed at how unkind of a thing that was to think about his best friend.

  “Then it’s a surprise for us both,” Tobias said. “What fun.”

  He went to the door and pushed it open. The door swung outward and knocked into who was standing on the other side.

  “Damn, fuck,” Mooncricket said as he righted himself and blinked at Tobias in the bright light that streamed out into the darkness. “Uh… Hey. Remember me?”

  “Yes,” Tobias said. “Hello, Tristan.”

  “Dude. Seriously, no,” Mooncricket said. He scratched at his arm, fingers squeezing beneath the gap in the cast covering his forearm where it stopped just below his elbow.

  “Mooncricket,” Tobias corrected himself. Mooncricket reeked of pot and cheap vodka; he was unsteady on his feet and sweaty, but he smiled at Tobias and seemed in good spirits. Which made sense if he was as bombed as he smelled like he was. If he had to deal with a broken arm and bruises that had faded to varying shades of sickly then Tobias thought he would want something to take his mind off things, too. Every time he saw Mooncricket he was taken aback by how violent Jeremy Harris really seemed to be. How could any one person be so brutal, so cruel to someone they presumably cared about?