Dark Tomorrows, Second Edition

by Amanda Hocking; Joel Arnold; J. L. Bryan; Michael Crane; S. W. Benefiel; Daniel Pyle; Robert J. Duperre; Vicki Keire

  “There’s--” Daniel began, wincing when he spoke. “Godsdamn it, I think you broke my jaw.” He spat a bloody string of saliva and a couple of his rotten teeth onto the ground.

  Julian raised his hand to strike him again.

  Daniel cowered. “There’s a reward. Fitzgerald’s had associates out here spreadin’ the word around this morning. Be on the lookout for a male Guardian and a female Sacrifice.” He dragged a shirtsleeve across his mouth. “You weren’t hard to recognize.”

  A scream sounded behind Julian. He whirred around, expecting to see Flora apprehended. Instead he saw a burly man cradling his burnt hand to his body and a red hot gun in Flora’s.

  “What?” she said, shrugging her shoulders and dropping the gun on the ground. “He was trying to sneak up on you.”

  Two men came around the corner, sawed-off shotguns aimed at Flora’s head.

  “Shoot her!” cried Daniel.

  Julian turned as three men armed with knives came at him from the other side. His eyes met Flora’s and an understanding passed between the two of them. Her hands exploded in flame.

  Julian punted Daniel in the head, knocking him out, and launched himself at the other three men, using his injured wing as a shield. They took turns slashing at him with their blades, staying just out of his reach. One man, hopped up on adrenaline, tripped over his own feet and wasn’t quick enough to make his retreat. Julian found his opening, grabbing the man by his neck and lifted him in the air. He squeezed the man’s neck until it broke and then threw him at the feet of the two other attackers. They didn’t back down. Damn, the reward for Flora must be enormous.

  She warmed up by throwing a series of fireballs at their feet. She thought it was only fair that she not kill them straight away. The first man with the burnt hand took one look at her and ran into the wilderness. When the other two didn’t get the hint though, she lost her compassion. Both men cocked their guns. Flora put her palms out flat in front of her, creating a wall of fire. She charged at them, melting the gun metal in their hands. They fell to their knees, screaming, writhing in pain. The grass all around them caught, encasing them in a cage of fire. A flash of panic erupted in Flora’s chest. They were going to burn alive. She spotted the first man’s gun on the ground. She retracted the fire in her hands and drew the gun up. Sucking in a deep breath, she prayed that the safety was off and shot into the bonfire overtaking the two men. There screams went silent. She tossed the gun into the fire and turned to see how Julian was faring.

  He was squatting against the building next to an unconscious Daniel, his right wing torn to shreds and bleeding heavily. The three men he’d fought were piled on top of one another, a handprint shaped bruise across the front of each of their broken necks.

  She went to Julian, kneeling beside him.

  “More will be coming,” he said. “We have to get you out of here.”

  “Can you transport?” She gently touched his wing.

  He flinched. “No.”

  She studied his expression. He was putting on a brave face, but he was in immense pain. His eyes looked ancient.

  “I heal quickly, but in the meantime, you’ll be vulnerable to attack.” He snorted. “Well, slightly more vulnerable than I’ve already made you. Help me up, there’s a back way to my house.”

  Flora wrapped her arm around Julian’s waist, pulling him to stand. They set off across the field in the direction of the house, careful not to stumble over the carnage they were leaving behind.

  Julian sat at the kitchen table disgusted with himself, with the whole situation. He’d never felt weaker. The time had come. He had to tell her about the prophecy.

  Flora dropped the wash cloth into a basin of water. She’d managed to clean most of the blood from his battered wing by moving her hand over it, but used the cloth to finish the job.

  He retracted his wings, gritting his teeth through the pain. “I have to tell you something.”

  “Okay.” Flora sat down opposite him.

  Julian stared at her. Everyone in her life had betrayed her, failed her, not given her any choices and he was just as bad.

  “We’re kinda under a time restraint here, Julian, spit it out.” Flora’s expression had gone from confused to annoyed.

  He looked her directly in the eye. She deserved the truth. She deserved to have a choice. “You are not your family’s Sacrifice.”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Flora sat completely still, her fists clenched in her lap.

  “Have you ever attended a Naming Ceremony?” Julian asked. “Do you know what happens at one?”

  “No, I haven’t. My father never let me,” she said, seething.

  “Have I mentioned that I hate your father?” He sighed and then began explaining. “The family’s Crone places her hands on the mother’s abdomen and tells the parents what their child’s or children’s names will be. She also reveals other important information about the child, like what element they will use. Very rarely, she sees farther into the future.”

  “And?”

  “I was at your Naming Ceremony. The whole thing proceeded in the usual fashion. And then, just as the Crone was taking her hands from your mother’s body, she went into a trance and delivered a prophecy to the room. She said, “Your second born daughter, Flora, is going to be a powerful witch. On her twenty-first birthday, she will join with another fire user. Together they will possess enough strong magic to lead a rebellion against the Gods and end the practice of sacrificing the firstborn child.” After some discussion amongst the heads of the family, your father suggested that you become the Sacrifice instead of your sister. He expected you to never amount to anything.”

  “Are you fucking kidding me?” Flora screamed, pacing the room.

  Despite her reaction, Julian felt relief. He began formulating a plan.

  “And my mother?”

  “She was dead set against your father’s plan.”

  “Does Fauna know?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t think so. Can you imagine that she would?”

  “Well, she was awful quick to lose her virginity.” Flora picked up the chair she’d been sitting on and threw it against the wall. Her hands clawed at her hair. “Fuck. No. There’s no way Fauna knew.” She turned her anger on him. “Why are you telling me this? What good will it do? I’m set to die the day after tomorrow. My family will be ruined otherwise.” Flora broke down crying.

  Julian stood, tentatively reaching for her hands. “With the exception of your sister, who in your family has treated you well enough to deserve the favor of the Gods? Gods, I might add, who have been fed enough Sacrificial souls to last them seven eternities.”

  “No one. They all treat me like I don’t exist.” Her shoulders slumped, the anger flowing out of her.

  “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I didn’t see how my telling you was going to do more than cause you deeper pain, but now I think I know a way for the prophecy to come true. You could put an end to the sacrifices. After what I saw you do today, Flora, your magic is strong enough.”

  She looked into his eyes, acknowledging that what he said was true. Then she took his arms and wrapped them around her.

  “Those are my choices?” Flora asked, pulling her head back from Julian’s chest to look up at him. “I either proceed with my sacrifice as usual or I lead a rebellion against the Gods? Those choices suck.”

  Julian shrugged. “Those are the only two I can think of.”

  “Well, then I’d like addendum to choice number two.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “All right.”

  “If your plan doesn’t work, the end result of both choices is the same. I’m dead. So, if the Gods are going to kill me, I’m not letting them have my pure soul.” She put her hands on his hips and pushed him back into the chair.

  “Flora,” he cautioned, although she could tell his heart wasn’t in it.

  She ran her hands over her body, changing her dirty blood-stained jeans and swe
ater into a flowing white lacy slip. She decided against underwear, but left her black boots on. “Want me to do you?” she said, waving her hands at him.

  “No point.” Julian pulled her onto his lap, straddling him, and kissed her hard on the mouth.

  Flora unbuttoned his shirt with quick fingers and tore it open, exposing his well-muscled chest. Moving her mouth to his ear, she took the lobe between her teeth. Julian moaned, running his fingertips up her thighs, inching the slip over her hips. She slid her heated hands down his chest, between her legs and started to unbutton his jeans.

  He grabbed her ass with both hands and stood, laying her back on the kitchen table. He looked down at her, memorizing her body with his eyes.

  She encircled his waist with her legs, digging her boot heels into his back. “Come closer,” she breathed. He pulled her toward him, until her ass was at the edge of the table, took hold of the hem of her slip and pushed it up as he kissed his way from her inner thighs to her breasts. Flora wrenched the fabric from his hands and yanked the slip over her head. Julian leaned over her, taking one of her nipples into his mouth. As she writhed against his touch, he trailed his palm over her flat stomach and slid his hand between her legs, stroking her.

  When he slipped a finger inside her, Flora knew she was ready. She cupped his face in her hands, drawing it upward to hers. He kissed her slowly, tracing her lips with his tongue. Taking his hand from between her legs, he unbuttoned his pants.

  She reached down and guided him into her. He moved cautiously, little by little, until he broke through. Flora inhaled sharply.

  “Should I stop?” Julian said his breath labored.

  “Gods no.” She pressed her boot heels against his ass forcing him deeper inside her. “Let’s break the table.”

  He withdrew and then thrust into her fully. “I never much liked it anyway.”

  Julian felt the accumulation of all his years throughout his body. After defiling their souls on every surface in every room of his house for twenty-four hours, he’d barely had enough energy to transport Flora and himself back to her father’s house. Now he stood leaning against the wall in the hall outside of her bedroom while Fauna helped her on with her ceremonial robe. After ensuring that he had his Sacrifice back, her father had informed them that he would meet them in the city square at the appointed hour. He’d told this to Julian, not able to look his daughter in the eye.

  The door opened and Flora stepped out. The sight of her in the Sacrificial getup broke Julian’s heart. His plan had to work. There was no way he was going to let her die.

  “Everything all right?” he asked.

  Fauna nodded her head behind her sister and held up the list that he and Flora had written.

  “Good. Clark will help?”

  Fauna nodded her head again and then broke down crying, launching herself at Flora. “I’m so sorry! I fucking hate Dad for doing this to you. Hate him, you hear me?”

  “It will be okay, just wait for the signal.” Flora squeezed her sister tighter. “I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” Fauna wiped her eyes with her shirtsleeve and backed out of the embrace. “See you there.” She gave her sister a quick kiss on the cheek and then ran down the stairs to Clark who was waiting in the foyer.

  Flora turned to Julian. “Okay, Guardian, time for the speech. Let’s hear it.”

  He took her hand and brought it to his mouth, kissing the palm. “Hold your head up high. Your sacrifice on this day will save many lives. They will gain the knowledge and power to defeat the Gods. You have lived a good life, and will continue to. I have been proud to be your Guardian.”

  Naked again. Flora sighed softly, trying not to think about all the people staring at her, or the fact that the cold sacrificial stone was making her ass numb. Out of the corner of her eye she could see Julian standing in the same spot under the family crest as he had on Aiden’s Day of Sacrifice. Fauna and Clark were next to him. She couldn’t see her father and wondered if he’d even stuck around once the High Priest had strapped her wrists and ankles down.

  The High Priest approached her and began chanting while running the dull side of the blade over her body. Flora focused on the sky above her, picking out a cloud in the shape of an angel. It was all up to Julian now.

  The blade pushed into her neck, breaking the skin. She took in a deep breath as Julian threw the priest to the ground and covered her with his body. Her view of the cloud was blocked by the downy feathers of Julian’s wings. He winked at her.

  “I cannot let this Sacrifice die!” he screamed.

  Flora’s father’s voice was the next she heard. “Guardian! I demand that you let this ceremony continue. I will not hesitate to summon the Gods.”

  “She will not die, Sir.”

  “Have it your way.”

  There was a pause and then Flora could feel that they were surrounded.

  “Is that what you want, your eternal life for hers?” A haughty female voice asked.

  “It is.” Julian climbed off of Flora and motioned for Fauna to toss him Flora’s robe. “Set her free and then you can have my wings.”

  The High Priest crawled over to the stone and unfastened her bindings. Flora jumped up and slung the robe on. “Julian, I can’t let you do this! You’ll be nothing more than a common human.” She flung herself into his open arms, clinging to his neck.

  “It’s all right. The sacrifice is worth it.” He took her hands from around his neck and held them in his.

  Flora peeked around him and saw the Gods, who’d gotten as far away from them as they could when Julian stood up. She’d never laid eyes on them before. Not an impressive bunch. Three obese women in flowing aqua green robes and three skinny, balding, middle-aged men in business suits.

  The one who had spoken earlier nodded at the High Priest. “Take his wings.” She turned to Flora’s father. “Our favor will still be given to you, but only for one year.” Mr. Hamilton bowed low to the ground, thanking them. The God looked away from him and then stepped back in line with the other Gods.

  “Please kneel on the sacrificial stone,” the High Priest said.

  Flora and Julian complied. His grip on her hands tightened.

  “Look at me,” she said.

  He stared into her eyes.

  “Don’t let them have the satisfaction of seeing your pain.” She made her face as blank as she could.

  The High Priest grasped Julian’s right wing and without ceremony, sliced it from top to bottom in one swift motion.

  Julian stared into Flora’s eyes, not breathing, not gritting his teeth, just staring.

  Flora held his gaze, ready for what was next.

  The priest took hold of Julian’s left wing and sliced it from his body. Julian fell into Flora.

  “You’ve got to get up,” she whispered in his ear. “Show me your hands.”

  Julian pushed back from her and held his hands out, palms up. Flora placed her hands on his. There was a spark between them. He was her equal.

  At the sight of the fire erupting from Julian’s hands, Fauna and Clark conjured a thick fog for cover. Then, with Mrs. Grant and a dozen Sacrifices and their Guardians, they rushed forward to surround Flora and Julian. The Guardians formed the perimeter of the group overlapping their wings, protecting their charges as they had sworn to do.

  “Everyone clear on where we’re going?” Julian asked, leaning on Flora to stay upright.

  “We are, Sir,” the Guardians said in unison, tightening their circle around the future of the rebellion.

  Then they were gone.

  HANGMAN

  A drabble by Michael Crane

  Joey knew the word, but where was the fun in that?

  With his tongue sticking out of the corner of his mouth, he purposely typed the wrong letters on his new Mr. Spell Guy, which was an electronic toy that his parents had bought him for Christmas. He thought it was stupid until he started playing Hangman.

  It was almost complete. He typed in the final
letter.

  BZZzzzzzWAAAMMMP!

  The pixilated stickman’s fate was sealed.

  Joey giggled. “Take that, jackass.” He was about to play another round until a noose swung down by his head.

  “My turn,” Mr. Spell Guy croaked

  The Second Coming of Pippykins

  by Amanda Hocking

  I was walking down the street one day, as I tend to do when I’m trying to get somewhere and my car is out of gas, when I happened upon a man helping an old woman across the street. My first thought was that he was a very slight young man, similar to Jude Law, except actually attractive.

  My second thought was, “What a strange sight.” I don’t think I’d ever actually seen anyone help an old woman across the street except on cartoons. But, as I would learn as that day progressed, life is full of surprises.

  The young man completed his task of helping the old woman, and turned his attention on me. He was a short way up the walk and came towards me, smiling brightly. Having lived a life where the only smiling strangers that came towards me were salesmen, I immediately became suspicious and looked around for an exit, but the young man was too quick for me.

  “Hello,” the young man said in a flamboyant British accent. “I’m Pippykins, son of God.”

  Now, of course, red flags went up after the man informed me he was Pippykins, son of God, but I became intrigued. Against my better instinct, I engaged the crazy, smiling fool in conversation.

  “I thought your name was Jesus,” I said.

  “Well, it was, but I never really cared for that much,” Pippykins said. “I mean, Jesus? So many people use it to curse, and after a couple thousand years, I decided it was time for a change.”

  “But Jesus Christ to Pippykins?” I raised an eyebrow. “I don’t really see the connection. And what about all the Christians in the world? Will they have to be called Pippykinians now?”