by Massey,M. D.
Luther pursed his lips and nodded. “Ever tell her that?”
“Nope.”
“Uh-huh. So how you know how it’s gonna be if you don’t?”
I shrugged. “You got me there. Maybe I’m just afraid of being hurt.”
“Or hurting someone else.” His eyes softened and he gave me a knowing smile. “Coffee’s on me today, kid. Don’t be late for class.”
6
Journal Entry—Eight Months, Nineteen Days A.J.
At first, I didn’t remember any of it, at least not the parts that happened after the curse took over. I think my mind blocked it out initially, in the days after Jesse died. The last thing I do remember is getting the shit kicked out of us by that dragon. She was supposed to have been too weak to shift into her dragon form, having just come back from the dead and all. But she did, and once that happened we were royally screwed.
In retrospect, Finnegas pushed us into that situation way too soon, and long before we were ready to face such a powerful creature. But the Caoránach was trying to open a doorway to hell to free her children—and cause the end of the world as we know it and all that jazz—so of course it fell on us to stop her.
Which brings me to the reason why I hate Finnegas so much. See, we weren’t the only people qualified to fight that battle—not by a long shot, in fact. In every age, champions, plural, are born to fight the forces of evil. I know, it’s cliché as hell, but it’s a fact. And there aren’t just a few of us born, because if that was the case then we’d soon be overwhelmed… because there are an ass-ton of monsters out there lurking in the shadows.
It’s not like there’s a glut of champions running around, but there are a lot. Roughly one in a thousand children are born with the gift. Most of them live their lives never knowing they’re genetically designed to kick monster ass and take supernatural names. But maybe one in a hundred have a chance run-in with a supernatural baddie, and that awakens their powers. Those who survive their initial encounter with the paranormal eventually become hunters, warriors, wizards, druids, and the like—whatever path their cultural heritage sets them on.
And if that sounds crazy, then this will really blow your mind. Most famous heroes out of history were actually champions pushing back against the F.o.E., the forces of evil. Geronimo, William Wallace, Davy Crockett, Billy the Kid, Constantine, Wong Fei Hung… they were all champions, and all of them killed their fair share of supernatural creatures.
Also, a lot of the major events in history were cover-ups for the eternal war. The French Revolution? That was really about rampant vampirism among the French royalty… which explains all the beheadings, if you think about it. The Napoleonic Wars? That was a further effort to purge Europe from supernatural creatures completely. You think Manifest Destiny was about land and resources? Well, it sort of was, but it was really about the European supernatural powers that be trying to stamp out the supernatural powers in the New World, so they could steal their power for themselves. I could go on and on, but you get the point.
Anyway, my point is that there was really no good reason for us to be in that cave fighting a dragon. Finn should’ve found a more experienced team to handle it, or he should’ve been there himself.
Aw hell… I’m too pissed right now to keep writing. Maybe I’ll talk about it more tomorrow.
-McC
Austin, Texas—Present Day
I thanked Luther for the free coffee, and then remembered I had never asked Belladonna where those murders had happened. I figured with it being the first day of school and all, I might want to get a head start on helping her before my professors decided to load on the homework. I ran out the back door after her, only to see the tail lights of her Harley driving off into the distance. I chased her halfheartedly, but decided it wasn’t worth the effort. Instead, I sent her a text as I took a shortcut through the alley next to La Crème so I could hop on my scooter and head to class.
As I was finishing my text to Belladonna, I got blindsided and pinned to the alley wall. Not by anything physical; this was a magical attack. My phone went flying along with my coffee, and I watched in slow motion as the lid flew off my cold brew, spilling the contents on the asphalt below.
“Noooooooo!” I screamed as I watched my phone hit the pavement next to my cup. A cracked screen was no big deal. I mean, I was druid-trained for Pete’s sake, so repairing a cracked glass pane was no biggie. But the coffee was the real loss, because I’d witnessed Luther pouring the last dregs of cold brew from the decanter just moments before.
I looked up from the crime scene to see who’d attacked me, but I already had a good idea who it might be. And, of course, who should come strolling out of the shadows but Crowley himself. If I’d been paying attention, I would’ve noticed the unnaturally dark area halfway down the alley, which could only have been caused by a shadow magic user’s concealment spell. Crowley’s magic manipulated shadows and light and bent them to his will; in fact, the spell that held me pinned to the alley wall was made up of solidified shadow. Neat trick, that.
He smirked as he strutted up to me, all six feet plus of his slightly awkward and gangly self. Crowley looked a lot like a young Jeff Goldblum, all long limbs and elbows, but good looking in an exotic, ‘I’m here to clean your pool and rub sunscreen on your back’ sort of way. As usual, he wore a long, dark trench coat, a black silk shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest to reveal the pentagram medallion he always wore, dark slacks, and a damned fine looking pair of Italian leather dress shoes. His dark curly hair surrounded the lean Mediterranean landscape of his face like a halo of liquid shadow, and flashes of light danced in his eyes as he sauntered over.
I had to hand it to the guy; he had swagger.
He grinned mirthlessly as he looked me up and down. “Well now, look what I’ve caught in my web of shadows. A mentally defective, witch-cursed druid who thinks he can get away with murder.”
I struggled against the spell, but no dice. I had to admit, the guy was good and he’d gotten the jump on me. If I’d been expecting it, I might have released a counter-spell to loosen the bonds so I could struggle free. But currently, I was at his mercy. I did my best to remain calm as spoke my displeasure.
“Crowley, I don’t have time for your petty bullshit today. I’m going to be late for class. Let me down and I’ll forget this ever happened.”
He tsked and stepped into bad breath range, patting me on the cheek. “You’ll forget this ever happened, eh? Like you forgot how you killed all those people in Kingsland? You dismembered over a dozen people, McCool. And one of them was your partner! You think you can just sweep that under the rug and make it go away?”
I hung my head, partially in shame and remorse for what I’d done, and partially because looking at Crowley was making my head hurt. “No, Crowley, I don’t. I have to live with it every single day. But you and I both know it was the curse that did it, not me. I was merely the vessel that channeled Fúamnach’s evil magic.”
At that name, I saw his fingers curl into fists. Interesting. I tucked that info away and pretended that I hadn’t noticed his reaction.
“Ah yes, the witch who was killed thousands of years ago, beheaded by a long dead god, who no one has seen in over two thousand years. Right.”
I sighed. “Look, we can play this game all day. But in the end, you know that if you mess with me you’ll start a war between the vampires and the Cold Iron Circle that’ll tear this city apart. And you and I both know that your bosses in the Circle would have your ass in a sling if your little vendetta against me set off that powder keg.”
His eyes narrowed and he gave me a stare that could have curdled milk. After a few seconds pause, he snapped his fingers and released the spell. I fell from where he’d been holding me and landed lightly on my feet. Crowley was already walking back into the shadows of the alley.
He glanced over his shoulder at me as he walked away. “You’re a menace, McCool—a ticking time bomb in the middle of over a million people. L
ast time the curse took over, it was out in the middle of nowhere. Next time it’s going to be a disaster of epic proportions. I intend to take you out before that happens.”
I watched him fade away as he vanished into the cloak of shadows that curled around him. It was a cool trick, but I suspected he was still present and hidden in the dark recesses of the alley. A newb would think he had teleported, which was what he’d intended me to think—but teleportation spells were damned near impossible to do.
Like I said, he had style.
After he’d disappeared from view, I pulled my hand out of my Craneskin Bag, releasing the enchanted spear I’d had ready in case things had escalated. Pretending that his accusations hadn’t affected me, I strolled through the alley and into the bright fall sunshine as if nothing had happened.
But the truth was, that little run-in had cast a dark shadow over what should have been a day of celebration. As I hopped on my scooter and rode off to class, I couldn’t help but dwell on fears that I’d worked hard to overcome. Crowley was right. I was a ticking time bomb. And until I found a way to remove Fúamnach’s curse, I’d never truly be free from the paralyzing possibility that I might lose control and kill again.
7
Journal Entry—Eight Months Twenty-One Days A.J.
So yeah, Finnegas could have found any number of people who had the juice to take on the Caoránach, but instead he pushed us into doing it. Why… to prove a point? I don’t know. All I know is that his hubris led to my curse and the death of the woman I loved, and by my own hand.
Which is why I’ve washed my hands of the whole lot of it. Magic, fighting the forces of evil, dealing with the fae, everything. My plan is to finish my undergrad, apply to grad school, and live out my life in complete anonymity, far, far away from all the madness of the world beneath our own.
The only problem with my plan is, the supernatural world won’t leave me alone. Try as I might, I can’t seem to keep it out of my business. But the good news is that they can’t force me to be part of their mess, right? And no matter how hard that world pushes, I won’t budge. Nope, it’s the mundane life for me, from here on out.
-McC
P.S. Screw Finn. I hope he dies in a crack house somewhere.
P.S.S. I really don’t, but I wish I was capable of that much hate. It might feel better than being so conflicted about the old man.
Austin, Texas—Present Day
The run in with Crowley had definitely shaken me up, but I wasn’t going to let it ruin my day. It had taken me months to get to the point where I could tackle starting school, and I wasn’t going to let anything take the joy of this milestone away from me. As I cruised up Guadalupe and onto campus, I reflected on all the struggle and pain that had brought me to this point.
Yes, I was a murderer. But I was also innocent, since it hadn’t been me who’d killed all those people, but Fúamnach’s evil magic working through me. And as tragic as it all was, ultimately it wasn’t my fault. There was no way I could’ve stopped those events from occurring, because I had no idea at the time that I’d been cursed.
But I do know now. I pulled into a parking spot next to a brand new Kawasaki KLR-650. I used the bike as a distraction from my current train of thought, and wondered if I could save up enough money for down payment on a 250. Maybe Luther would give me a part-time gig at the coffee shop to supplement the money I made working for Ed.
I could start hunting monsters for cash again. Yeah, when pigs flew. That’d put me squarely back into the exact situations I was trying to avoid. Best that I just put all thought of buying a sweet dual-sport bike out of my mind, and focus on school for the next eight years or so. Because the safe money was on a career in the mental health fields. It didn’t pay that great, but it didn’t come with the risk of going on a homicidal killing spree, either.
I gave one last longing look at the bike as I locked my helmet onto my beat up old Vespa and headed into the lecture hall. Since I was enrolled in all general ed courses this year, I’d be attending most of my classes in the famed mass lecture halls on campus. Picture a huge amphitheater filled with hundreds of impressionable freshmen, with a dowdy prof or TA lecturing at the front of the room—that was pretty much what my world was going to be for the next few years.
After wandering around campus for several minutes trying to locate the correct building, I finally found my way to the lecture hall, navigating a sea of incoming freshmen on the way. I looked up into the mass of students taking their seats and saw Sabine waving at me from way up in the nosebleed section.
Great, I thought. Guess I’ll be buying notes online for this class.
I really couldn’t hold it against Sabine, though. That girl was a mess in public, what with her social anxiety disorder and mild case of agoraphobia. She’d come a long way since I’d met her, and in truth we’d leaned on each other a lot in working through our individual issues. It had been her idea to audit the class with me, and although she wasn’t officially enrolled at the university, it didn’t matter much. No one paid attention to who attended these mass lectures—and besides, nobody ever really noticed Sabine anyway, because of her damned see-me-not spell.
That spell was a bone of contention between us. It made me look like I was talking to myself all the time, and after several awkward situations where people stared at me like I was completely mad, I took to wearing a wireless earpiece whenever I was with her. So, instead of looking like a loon, I just looked like an asshole. Not much of an improvement, but without her see-me-not spell Sabine was a mess in public. It was a small price for me to pay to get her out of the house on a regular basis.
I trudged up the steps and plopped down next to my bestie. “What’s up, Speck?” I asked as I sat down next to her. Speck was the dog in PeeWee Herman’s Big Adventure, a Tim Burton movie we both loved.
She looked up at me and smirked. “Not you, apparently. You’re late. Didn’t you get my text?”
“Yes, mom, I got your text. And I am definitely not late. Lecture hasn’t even started yet.”
She twitched her nose and narrowed her eyes at me in mock seriousness. “No back talk, bub. Now hush, the nice man in the suspenders and bow tie is about to start talking.”
I stuck my tongue out at her and settled into my seat, pulling my text, a notebook, a pencil, and a foot-long sub out of my Craneskin Bag. The bag was ugly as sin, but it sure was handy to have around. Finn had given it to me as a sort of inheritance on my eighteenth birthday. It was like a bag of holding, only way cooler, because whatever you stuck in there remained in stasis until you pulled it back out. It was great for storing unruly semi-sentient magical items, and sandwiches you didn’t want to spoil.
I began unwrapping my sandwich, which resulted in a lot of paper rustling and associated noises. A very uptight-looking girl in glasses three rows in front of us turned around and shushed me. I flipped her off and Sabine snickered.
“Already making friends, I see,” she observed sagely.
“What? I haven’t had breakfast yet, and that asshole Crowley made me drop my coffee. Sue me, already.” I munched on my sandwich as I listened to the lecture. This guy didn’t waste any time whatsoever; he was already telling us to flip to page 63 in the text. I leaned over to Sabine.
“Psst… flip my book to page 63 for me.” She pursed her lips and sneered at me playfully. “Hey, I have my hands full here with this sandwich. But don’t worry, it’ll be gone shortly.”
Sabine flipped my book open to the proper page. “There, you big baby. Should I wipe your mouth for you as well?”
“That’d be great, thanks.” The uptight chick shushed me again. I raised my sandwich to her. “Want some? There’s plenty here for everyone.”
She didn’t seem at all amused. I guessed some people just didn’t appreciate quality cold cuts. As I took another bite, Sabine nudged me and nodded to another girl sitting a few seats down from Ms. Pantywad.
“Hey Colin, I’m pretty sure that girl over there thinks you
’re cute.”
I perked up slightly at that. Not that I was looking for a relationship, but I was still not going to blow off a chance to flirt a little. I mean, I needed the practice. Someday I was going to be free from this curse and ready to move on, and I needed to know I had some game when that day came. Besides, knowing that someone new was interested in you was always a real confidence booster.
I looked where she was staring. “Who, that blonde girl?”
Sabine pulled her glasses down the bridge of her nose and squinted at the girl she’d pointed out. “Oh, hell no. Uh-uh, nope. Forget I said anything.”
“What, what’s wrong? Why should I forget that a very cute blonde was just checking me out?”
She scowled and shook her head. “Because, she’s fae, and a bitch besides. Trust me, you want to stay far away from her. She works for Maeve.”
Aw hell. Maeve. Faery queen over all of Austin, a domain of no small importance in the world of the fae. She was a royal pain in my ass, too. For some reason she’d taken an interest in me since I settled in Austin, and since then she hadn’t left me alone. At least once a week I’d get an invite to a royal event or to have tea with her, and every single time I had to tactfully decline in the least offensive way possible.
The last thing I wanted to do was become entangled in the affairs of the fae. For one, you couldn’t trust them. Second, wherever the fae went, violence always followed. And third, Maeve was a wolf in cougar’s clothing. She might’ve looked harmless, even friendly… but that was a facade cultivated over the course of centuries, designed to lull you into a false sense of security. And the minute you let your guard down around her, she’d cut your balls off and hold them ransom until she ran you ragged doing her bidding.
I watched the fae girl out of the corner of my eye during the remainder of the lecture. Sure enough, she was keeping an eye on me. After class was dismissed, she approached us while we gathered our things.
