by Hunter Blain
“They will, but know you have friends with the Seelie. We will be watching,” Taylor said before blinking out of this plane.
“Oh goodie. The fun never stops for John Cook. Lilith can’t I get five fucking minutes to myself?” I said in cursive.
“God only gives what we can handle, boy. Some can take more than others.”
“Yeah yeah. Father Thomes and you should write a damn book.”
“Don’t need ta. One’s already been done,” Val said, turning to clean the bar behind him, leaving me to my thoughts.
I finished my drink, thanked Val with a nod, and stood on wobbly legs to leave. The air was calm and the stars were out in full force, no longer afraid of the end that almost happened tonight. I took in a deep breath and began casually strolling to my home, enjoying the world around me as if for the first time.
As I walked in a completely straight line to the graveyard entrance, and immediately noticed an out of place, blacked-out Ford Expedition parked out front. The back was open and I saw Joey and Dawson carrying various valuables towards the mausoleum. I could hear them talking with one another, excited at their loot, and to be alive. I wondered if they got any good movies or games out of the deal. OH! Or maybe an incredibly rare relic from some ancient civilization that was haunted or something. Killer book idea, or maybe Hulu.
I drunkenly walked to the entrance of my home and descended the stairs, flattening against the wall as Joey and Dawson made their way back out for another load. Joey high fived me as I passed while Dawson moved his hand back and said, “Too slow old man!”
“Could use some help,” Joey said over his shoulder.
“I’m managerial,” I said with a slur. “You guys are doing great! Keep it up! We’re only as strong as the early bird that gets the moss.”
“Dude, I think…” Dawson started.
“Don’t engage,” Depweg said at the bottom of the stairs. He sniffed the air as I got close. “How’s Valenta? Did he say anything?”
“A lot,” I said as Depweg lead the way to the kitchen where he turned to face me, waiting for the rest. Da and Locke were in the living room looking at the goodies we salvaged. That’s the legal term for stealing, right? Salvaged? Anyway.
Rolling my eyes, I took in a deep breath and managed to get out, “Taylor showed up and bought me a drinky-poo. Nice guy, I like him. Mentioned something about the Shadow Court really wanting to cast the world into darkness, or something bleak like that.”
“The fun never stops for John…,” Da started.
“Yeah, already said that,” I interrupted while trying to keep the world from spinning. “So everyone take a day or two to rest and get ready for a tidal wave of scary ass Fae monsters coming to kill us.”
“Um, can I have a body?” Locke asked. “I can help. I want to help.”
“Maybe for your birthday,” I said, dismissively.
“My birthday is actually tomorrow,” Locke said. Depweg and I looked at him, assessing his comment. “Seriously!”
“Maybe for Christmas,” I said, ignoring him. I was a little (a lot) drunk and tired. It was exhausting doing the right thing and even more tiring that there was a horde of faeries that wanted to kill me. “I need a vacation. Da, how many weeks do I have accrued?”
“Not enough, I’m afraid,” Da said.
“Lilith! Why do I even work here? No 401k, shitty hours, and no vacation.”
“Actually, your retirement is substantial. More than most countries actually. You’re lucky to have me, you know. It’s dreadfully hard to run all these shell companies and spread the wealth over several companies around the globe.”
“That’s why I pay you the medium bucks,” I said as I moved toward the couch. I turned my back and pretended to have to squeeze between the couch and coffee table, saying “Excuse me. Oh, excuse me. Sorry about that. Cuse me.” As I stuck my ass out in Locke’s face who could do nothing but take it on the chin, literally.
“Dear Lord, man,” Locke said, scrunching his nose up futilely. You smell rank. Were you at a Grateful Dead concert or something?
“Huh?” I said, sniffing my armpits and taking in a whiff of the organic holy weed Richard had given me. “Oh, right. That smell is what saved the world, my friends.”
I picked up the remote and began sorting through shows to continue watching. When I didn’t continue the odd statement, Da said, “Care to elaborate further?”
“Not really,” I said, feeling their judgment wash over me. I didn’t have the energy to confess out loud that I wasn’t confident if I could restrain from killing Ulric or not; and that it took a foreign substance of mind-altering origin to mellow me enough to not cause Armageddon.
“Oh man, what season is The Walking Dead on now? I got bored after the Governor,” I said, changing the subject.
Knowing there was no winning when I was stubborn and drunk like this, Da and Depweg continued sorting items on the kitchen table.
“I understand,” Locke whispered. “I’ve known you a while and I get it. No judgment here.”
I looked at him then, as if for the first time. Then I picked him up, tearing away the mannequin body while putting my palms around both sides of his head just as I did before. Blood flowed out and surrounded his neck before moving downward. I focused and sent my energy into expanding his flesh. It took a lot of what I had left in my tanks, but since I was on a roll with self-betterment, I figured why not learn to trust.
After a full minute, the blood retracted back into my being, leaving behind a brand-new body for Locke. Tears began to well in his eyes that he instinctively wiped away with his new hand.
“John, I…,” he began, fighting back the oncoming wave of sobs, “What the…” He looked at his baby hand with its cute little chubby folds, then his other. As I sat him on the couch, he looked down at his naked body and gaped incredulously. “My penis! It’s the size of a Lil Smokey!”
“Don’t give yourself too much credit, kid,” I said, stifling a laugh. He looked at me with a pleading look that also had anger mixed in. “Look,” I said, “You’ll grow into it.” With that, the whole room burst into laughter, all except for Locke whose mouth was permanently affixed open in what I assumed was gratitude.
“Dude! They have a bootleg disk of the new Avengers mov…holy fuck! What is that?” Dawson said, dropping his spoils and pointing at Locke. “Why is there a man’s head on that baby?”
“Cool,” Joey said, shouldering past Dawson to drop his load on the table.
After a few minutes of laughing, I wiped the tears from my eyes and looked at Locke in all seriousness and said, “Look, two things; I don’t know if I can fully trust you yet, and I used all the energy I had left to give you that. Plus I’m fucking drunk,” I said, motioning over his body. “Now how about you cover up your tic-tac and test the body out.”
Locke grabbed a throw pillow and put it over his junk. “Not like that!” I said, noting that particular pillow would soon meet Mr. Fire.
Locke waved a hand in mid-air and whispered to himself. A ball of fire the size of a marble appeared in his hand, making his eyes go wide in joy. “Thought I’d never get to do that again! OW!” Locke said as the fire began to burn his delicate baby flesh. “Oh right, I’ll have to toughen up again. Damn it, that took years the first time!”
“You have nothing but time,” I said to Locke. “No master pulling the strings this time, forcing your every move. Dobey is a free elf.”
“Hey! I can feel my heartbeat! I…I’m alive!” Locke exalted.
“Do…do we need to get diapers?” Da said in all seriousness.
The End
Epilogue
T he new Avengers movie was in the loot pile; but, alas, it was dubbed in Scandinavian. Fine for me, but I don’t think anyone else could speak the language.
“Guess we’ll just have to wait for it to come out on iTunes or something,” I suggested.
“Oh, John, before I forget,” Da started, “the blood bank is awaiting permi
ts from the mortal authorities and then we can begin construction. It may take some…,”
“Bribes,” I interrupted.
“Greasing of certain wheels,” Da finished politically. “I am confident the project can be completed within the year.”
“Make sure you get a steady supply to Doc Jim,” I said.
“Of course,” Da said. “Depweg had already shared his information with me. You’ll be pleased to know that he has made substantial upgrades to the clinic as well.”
“Neat,” I said while chuckling at the hilarious translation the Scandinavians did. I seriously think at one point
Epilogue Part Deux
F rom the darkness, fierce eyes watched as John Cook killed an angel. A shadow extended from the night, morphing into a clawed hand that grasped the angelic sword. While the vampire was distracted with his own actions, the shadow-hand lifted the sword from its concrete sheath and reeled it into the darkness.
More eyes appeared, scowling at the abomination with an intense hatred, as he walked to a white car. Multiple hands shot out, grasping the angelic body, and dragged it into the Shadow Realm. Toothy grins glistened in the darkness as eyes winked out of this plane.
