by Hunter Blain
I relaxed visibly.
“As long as you don’t do anything else stupid.” Depweg’s index finger extended my way, accusingly. “Now, they don’t know where we are, so let’s just lay low.”
My life was clearly a made for TV movie because right as Depweg finished his statement, the angels stopped in front of our mausoleum. One of them pointed at the ground, which had footprints in the dirt. Da and Depweg’s heads swung slowly my way in tandem in disbelief.
“I’ve, ah, been meaning to plant more grass there,” I said sheepishly. Still synced, both heads shook in amazed disappointment.
Anger rose in my chest and my hands clenched into fists. “You know what?” I spat, “Fuck this. Let’s go have a conversation with them.” As I spoke, blood swords that were infused with rage extended from my fists. They were horrific manifestations that were jagged, as if made from Flint, with sweeping sections of serrated teeth.
I turned to face the door and... nothing. I couldn’t step forward. I exerted like a woman giving birth, or so I assumed from movies, and only succeeded in making a high pitch squeal.
“Lily!” I shouted once it hit me.
Depweg and Da shared a chuckle from behind me. This only enraged me further. After a few more non hilarious attempts to move forward, I sighed and let the blood swords retract.
“Giving up, are we?” Depweg chided.
“Oh, uh… don’t…” Da started, but it was too late. I turned around with a smooth, clear expression; a mischievous smile appeared at the corners of my mouth.
“Oh dear,” Da said, placing his face in his hands. “John, please don’t. They probably just want to talk.” He didn’t even bother to look at me as he knew it would do no good. “If they wanted to kill you, they wouldn’t make it so obvious.”
I stormed past them both towards the hidden exit in my room. As I did, I said over my shoulder, “Guess I’ll go for a walk. But, gotta make sure I use the secret exit so I don’t have to fight any punk ass angels. Hope they don’t find me.”
“Stop,” a silky voice commanded.
“Oh, thank God,” Da said. “Please stop him from making things worse.”
“Where are you going, lover?” Lily asked.
“Fuck,” I whispered to myself.
“Maybe later. But first, you have guests. Play nice and maybe you’ll survive the night.”
There was knock on the door. It wasn’t overly aggressive, but neither was it meek. Restrained came to mind.
Everyone looked at each other curiously. All except Lily who seemed giddy with excitement.
“Depweg, John, do not mention my presence to your guests. I am only here to observe.” As she spoke, her visage disintegrated like she was made out of sand in a high wind.
The door knocked again.
“Uh, I’d also appreciate the same courtesy,” Da said before winking out of this plane.
“Fairies, man,” I said over my shoulder to Depweg as I approached the iron door. “Who is it?” I asked in my old lady voice.
“The Arch-Angel Gabriele,” a strong, reverberating voice said through the door. “I only wish to converse with the abomination.”
Opening the door, I was greeted by a giant, armor-clad angel. Only one though. His helmet was tucked into the crook of one arm, letting long golden locks fall to shoulder length. He looked like a fucking model.
“May I enter?” Gabriele asked with surprising politeness. Caught off guard, I moved to the side, gesturing his permission. He was considerably bigger than the doorframe and I was humorously curious about how he would squeeze through. Without hesitation, he stepped forward. White smoke, or maybe it was mist, billowed off of him and his massive frame shrunk to normal man size, complete with a charcoal gray suit and black tie.
“Whoah. Neat trick Gabe,” I said.
“Thank, Jonathon,” he remarked with a smirk.
“It’s just John,” I responded, rolling my eyes in the usual fashion.
“I know.” The smirk had grown into a full-blown smile. Damn him and his shiny shoes. “It’s Gabriele and I’m here to deliver a message.”
“Last winged dude with a flaming sword wasn’t too keen on niceties with his message,” I said, crossing my arms. Doubt was written all over my face, like I was waiting for the salesmen to tell me the catch.
“A message of peace, of course,” Gabriele said with an award-winning smile still on his face. It was surprisingly disarming. I found myself liking him. “I am, of course, the angelic messenger.”
As he made his way further into my home, he stopped and closed his eyes. His head tilted upward and I heard him sniff the air with visible pleasure. He exhaled in a soundless moan as a knowing grin appeared at the corners of his lips and eyes.
Trying to keep his train of thought on the tracks, my arms uncrossed and my tone softened, “Alright. What’s the message then?”
“There is concern on our end that you are the catalyst, and that deception is in play which will lead down the path with only one end.” His smile had flattened and the corners of his eyes hardened to stone as he turned to face me. There was no joy in his features at that moment.
“Catalyst for what?” I asked, feeling my throat drop at the implications and expected answer. Angels wouldn’t show up at my door to tell me I had just won the Publisher’s Clearing House giveaway. This was serious if Gabriele was here.
“The Day of Reckoning, of course,” Gabriele said. My throat rushed down to meet my anus, which was clenching upwards. I became a little light headed as his words smashed into my mind like mallet on a watermelon. Damn it, Gallagher!
“My horoscope said this would happen,” I said with a sigh. Gabriele let a quick bark of laughter escape his throat before placing a fist over his mouth.
“Ah! This guy gets it!” I said while pointing at him and looking at Depweg. Damn, he was likable.
Depweg joined the conversation, “In what way is John responsible for the apocalypse?” His arms were crossed over his massive chest with a dubious yet interested look on his face. Veins road mapped over his muscles from the sleeve of his shirt down to his fingers.
“I’m afraid there is only so much I can tell you. Rules, you know?” He looked upwards at the last part referring to the pact God made with Satan about mortal interference.
“Well, what can you share with the rest of the class?” I asked, annoyed he knew a lot more than could let on.
“Only this message: You are free to make any decision, in the entire universe, that you wish. It is the consequences that are unavoidable.” His emphasis was subtle.
“Sounds like a poster,” I said before I could stop myself.
“Exactly,” he said with a wink. “Well, that is all the time for today, abomination.” For some reason, when he called me that, it didn’t seem to bother me as much. Gabriele turned to nod at Depweg before he started walking towards the door.
“You know, it really throws us off when you say that,” I said while squinting my eyes at him. It’s not that I was offended, I was just confused at his demeanor and overall pleasantness mixed with that term.
“What, abomination? My apologies if it offends, of course. It is simply what you are. You’ll understand someday,” Gabriele said over his shoulder with an award-winning smile. For some reason, the image of him sitting at the head of a corporation coalesced in my head. “Farewell.” The smoky mist rushed to envelop the angel as he walked through the door and up the stairwell.
I didn’t respond as I shut the door behind him, my mind swirling with his message and subtle emphasis indicating a deeper meaning in his words.
Lily appeared on the armrest of the couch, her demeanor serious and lost in thought.
Ignoring her, as I knew she wouldn’t tell me what was really on her mind, I turned to Depweg, “What did you make of that?”
Placing his hand on his cleanly shaven chin in thought, Depweg said, “He added “in the universe” to that quote, deliberately.”
“Was tha
t a hint to seek other planes for help? Or was he suggesting that we do nothing at all?” I asked while starting to pace. “Could it have been a straight-up warning that no matter what we do, we will be punished? That’s kind of what the first guy said.”
“Hey hey, there is no “we,” Depweg said with air quotations, “He said you.”
My jaw dropped open, my hands dropped to my side, palms facing forward, and fingers outstretched in a show of whiskey tango foxtrot.
“Just messing with you, dude. You know I’m in,” Depweg said while pointing finger pistols at me.
“Damn straight. Who’s a good boy?” I teased Depweg.
His smile vanished and was instantly replaced with a scowl.
“Actually,” Lily began, “I have a plan.”
Chapter 5
“T
hat’s a terrible plan,” I said with impeccable comedic timing. I had taken an improv class and learned that if you have the right comedic timing, then it’s ok to be a complete asshole —just as long as you are funny. That’s not what they taught, but that’s what I learned before I was asked to never return.
“I haven’t even said my plan yet. I literally just said ‘I have a plan’ and you chimed in as if I laid out said plan.”
“Do we plan on not saying plan anymore?” Depweg asked while pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger.
“Don’t plan to,” I said smiling.
“John!” Lily said as much with her hands as with her voice. “You are exhausting,” she sighed.
“Plan,” I poked.
Lily looked up at me and I realized I had possibly made an error, “Rip out your tongue,” she commanded with amusement. Yeah, I had definitely made a mistake.
Compulsion took over. My smirk evaporated as I struggled against her order. My face scrunched in intense concentration. I could feel my hand attempting to pull an Evil Dead and do its own thing. Too bad I didn’t have a chain-saw laying around.
“Hold up,” Depweg said. I could always count on him to have my back. “Want to make sure I get this,” he said while pulling up his cell phone and turning the camera on. My hand was making headway towards my mouth, which was clinched tighter than an anus after eating a Chinese buffet ten minutes before closing on a Tuesday.
“Wait,” Lily said, and I froze in place, relief washing over me. “You’re in portrait, turn it sideways.”
“Oh, right,” Depweg said while turning his phone horizontally.
Lily looked back at me and cheerfully said, “Continue, John.”
“I plan on it,” I said through teeth that were refusing to part. “Yup, this is exactly what I wanted to do. Ol’ tongue was getting in the way.”
Depweg was shaking while trying to control his mirth. Lily just stared at me with a cool smile. I only had one card to play to take control of the situation. Opening my mouth wide, I gave full permission to my rebel hand and reached in, grasping my tongue hard. With a deep breath, I pulled quickly, tearing the tongue in half and sending blood splatters in an arc in front of me. Both Depweg and Lily were covered in a new polka dot ensemble. I tossed the tongue onto Lily’s lap and made a kissy face at the camera, blood cascading through my lips and down my chin. I walked past the stunned duo and into my room where I willed the wound closed.
I turned and set my hand on the door and yelled, “PLAN!” before slamming the door shut. Or at least I tried to. Pretty sure it came out as “PAN!” without my tongue.
I physically high fived myself at having the last words and heard a bemused giggle. Shrieking like a tiny girl, I turned to see Lily sitting on my bed with a devious gleam in her eye. Her clothes and skin were polka dot free as if she had just gone through an Oxyclean commercial. My hands shot up to my mouth and I shook my head hard, pleading in my eyes.
“Calm down, John. I truly want to help. Besides, what fun would it be to lose my favorite toy?” She said as her hands found the bottom of her blouse and started lifting up, revealing toned abs. Wonder if she meant my maw appendage or me.
There was a knock on my door and I angrily called out with my healing speechmaker, “What?”
Depweg’s voice came through the door muffled but audible enough, “There’s a package for you.” There was a hesitance to his words. Probably because he knew he was tongue-blocking me right now.
“There’s a package in here too!” I called back. I was met with silence.
Confused I turned to open the door, my eyes refusing to leave Lily’s body as she let her blouse slide back down.
“There’s a box for you, man,” Depweg said with confounded disbelief in my doorway. He had an oil rag in his hand and was wiping off my lightly speckled blood.
“What’s in the box?” I said in my best Brad Pitt voice.
“Funny you should say,” Depweg said while his gaze dropped to the ground; his face screwed up in dreamlike disbelief.
On the table in front of the couch laid a plain brown box that was opened. I stepped closer to try to gain a better perspective and was rewarded with an impossibility. Locke’s burn scared head stared up at me, his face still decimated from our battle. His eyes grew wide when he saw me, matching my own surprised look.
“You!” We said in unison, or would have if Locke had a functioning lower jaw.
In all my centuries, I have absorbed countless scrolls, texts, books, and blogs about anything and everything I could get my hands on. I have mastered every language that I’ve encountered and have read every work of major art in their original tongues. This has afforded me with every conceivable combination of words at my disposal at any time, allowing me what surely must be the vastest vocabulary in the entire world.
“Hea-Head…alive!” I stammered eloquently while pointing a shaking finger at the box on my coffee table.
Lily came out of my room and strolled over to where I was pointing. Without missing a beat, she almost purred to herself in delight and lifted the destroyed cranium out of its cardboard prison by its greasy black hair.
“Did it…um…come with a receipt? I mean, it is burned,” I asked dumbly. Both Lily and Depweg looked at me with squinting eyes and mouths in little o shapes as if I had just asked if the living head that was delivered in a box had a receipt with it. “Note! I meant note. Oh, and who the hell delivered this?” At this they let my question slide and pondered the delivery itself. “And perhaps the most important question, how the hell is it still alive?”
Depweg strode to the TV remote, and began searching methodically through our security footage. First, he watched the entrance to the Fortress of Solitaire and when he was satisfied that it showed nothing, he moved on to the others surrounding the perimeter. Not a single one showed a delivery person.
“How did you know the box was here?” I asked Depweg.
“After you slammed your door, Lily disappeared, leaving me alone. I really wanted to watch Aliens so I turned to walk towards the couch and that’s when I saw the box on the table,” Depweg pointed to where the cardboard cube still remained. “After sniffing it and feeling for any traps, I decided to open it myself rather than bother you two love falcons.”
“HA!” I barked out, “Love falcons. That’s awesome.” I could see Locke roll his eyes at that. I walked up to where Lily was still holding him and asked really slowly, “Can you understand me? Give me a thumb up for yes or tap your foot for no.”
Locke rolled his eyes again and I could hear air escape his mouth hole in a pashaw. Lily started to set the head down on the coffee table when I cried out, “WAIT!” She froze in place as I slid a coaster underneath where the head hovered. “Ok, there.” With a roll of her own eyes – boy there was a lot of that going around – she laid the head down. It just sat there, if a head could sit, looking at us. His eyes shifting from person to person, unsure of what to do.
“Do you know where you are?” Depweg asked calmly while walking into Locke’s line of sight. “Blink once for yes and twice for no.” Locke blinked once.
�
��Do you know how you got here?” Lily asked. Locke blinked twice.
“Do you know the muffin man?” I asked while walking to the junk drawer. Once I reached it, I retrieved what I was looking for which was right next to a bottle of clear superglue, and then asked over my shoulder, “Did he blink?” before turning and walking back towards the table.
Ignoring my question, Depweg asked, “Will you tell us what your master’s plan was?” Locke hesitated and then blinked twice, but not out of defiance like I was expecting. I returned to the coffee table and got down on one knee while removing the cap of the sharpie. With a few lines and some circles, Locke was ready for a night on the town.
“Is this necessary, Johnathon?” Lily asked while putting her palm over her eyes and rubbing her forehead.
“I didn’t do anything,” Depweg said.
“HA!” I cried out to Lily while pointing a victorious finger at her. “Not as much fun to use that now, huh?” Jonathon Depweg and I locked eyes for a moment and nodded our heads in silent victory.
Looking back at Locke, I stood and crossed my arms, admiring my handiwork. “Now he really is a dick head.”
Locke had been trying to look at his own forehead, which was both sad and odd, until he processed what I had said. His forehead scrunched and his eyes narrowed at me while he tried to use his mouth to form words. As his forehead creased, I pointed while laughing and said, “Look! Now it has foreskin!” I looked around awaiting a high-five to be prompted by someone for that epic joke, but there was none to be given that day.
“Fine,” I said, “let’s get Father Thomes here so we can get his opinion.” At the mention of the Holy Father, Locke started blinking in rapid succession, two blink successions, bordering on frantic.
“What? Don’t you want the Father to come and exorcise your ass back to Hell? I bet Lucifer is pissed at you right now, huh?” Locke closed both his eyes really hard, his face starting to shake.
Growing tired of his lack of communication I said, “I have a plan.” At this, both Lily and Depweg cried out while throwing their hands in the air and letting them drop again in a show of disbelief. “No, I’m serious this time,” I finished as I put my palm over Locke’s crushed lower jaw, and willed my blood out and over his face. I willed my life force, which still had some angel charge, to heal his broken face. The air echoed with the sounds of popping bones and tendons all while Locke wailed as his face was reconstructed. When the task was almost complete, Locke let out a long “o” syllable that coalesced into, “oooooooo you twit! That freaking hurt!” He said in his motherland accent of old English.
