Rise of the Discordant: The Complete Five Book Series

by Christina McMullen

  “Oh yeah?” Ajhe’s ears pricked up. “Whaddaya got?”

  “Big Royal Burger needs a sanitations expert.”

  “Oh, real nice! Keep kickin’ me while I is down, why don’tcha?”

  “Beats the alternative, don’t it?” Mort said with an unsubtle glance over at Nai. To my surprise, the teen silently watched the conversation from the sidelines. I was even more surprised when she calmly slid the weapon that had been up her sleeve back into her pocket.

  “I have to admit, you’re showing a lot more restraint than I did as a new Warrior.”

  “Don’t get me wrong, I had about fifty different ideas as to what to do with him, but if keeping him around means I don’t have to clean the toilets at Big Royal, I’m good. Although…” she looked around and gave a deep, dramatic sigh. “What’s the point of being a Warrior when the only Discordant in town are all reformed demons?”

  At that, I laughed. I know I probably shouldn’t have, but with the sun on the horizon and the dawning of a new, mostly Discordant-free day, I couldn’t help it. Though the act of severance balanced her soul, Nai was still decidedly Nai, and I was glad for it.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much,” I said with a small chuckle. “Economic revival notwithstanding, I can’t see the Discordant holding back for too long. Daylight savings is ending tonight. You’ll be up to your butt in winter fairies soon enough.”

  “I can only hope you’re… Oh my cow! Why is that thing still hanging around?”

  I turned to see what distracted Nai and noticed Jem. Rather, I noticed a small creature at Jem’s heels that looked suspiciously like the dragon, even though I knew for a fact that it couldn’t be. “Tell me that isn’t the dragon.”

  “He’s all dog now,” Jem assured me, patting the odd looking animal affectionately. Admittedly, it no longer carried the stink of Discord, but calling the goofy animal a dog was a bit of a stretch.

  “So,” Myrna said, carefully picking her way through the rubble. Her voice had a huskier tone than usual and there was a bit of moisture in her eyes as she gazed at us, but she was smiling. “It doesn’t take a psychic to see that a lot has changed in a little time, but I sure as heck hope this isn’t goodbye.”

  “Oh, Myrna,” I said with a light chuckle. I’ll be darned if there wasn’t tears trying to escape my own eyes. “We are not cycling, if that is what you are asking,” I assured her. “I cannot speak for Seth, but Jem and Nai are still minors in need of a legal guardian. I will remain in Blackbird for the time being at least.”

  “Don’t even act like either of you are going anywhere.”

  I turned to see Donna rolling her eyes at me. Funny how the whole of existence can be torn asunder, yet some things will never change. “You’re no longer an agent for Order, but you can’t act like you’re oblivious to the fact that both you and Seth are still here to fill the role of Blackbird’s sixth and seventh mystics.”

  Ah yes. There was that one aspect of our new development that was most curious. I was hoping to put off thinking about it, but she was right. The numerological roadblock was as strong as ever. Stronger, perhaps, now that we had proven that it took seven mystics to vanquish the Discordant. Trapped again, yet I found that I was quite curiously without objection.

  “I wouldn’t dream of leaving the unemployment office to deal with all that without me,” said Seth, who had excused himself from the demon negotiations. Looking up at me, he smiled, light from the morning sun gave his eyes a playful, almost mischievous look as he added, “Besides, someone has to pay the mortgage.”

  “The Five Penny is doing well, thank you very much.”

  “You mean the family business you’ve been managing for me? Yes, it’s doing great,” Donna said with a smug smirk and a wink. I could not help but to laugh, not only because death did nothing to change her attitude, but also because ever since the bar accidentally fell into my hands, I’d been looking for a safe way to offload what I’d seen as a hindrance. It figures that the problem would sort itself out only now, after I’ve found myself in need of employment.

  “Fair enough,” I said with a chuckle. “I suppose I’ll have to make an appointment with the unemployment office.”

  “Hmm…” Seth eyed me with mock criticism. “I can’t see you as a wind farmer. Perhaps you might stay on at the Penny as a bouncer.”

  “Oh my cow! Will you just get a room already?” Nai’s taunt brought about a sprinkling of good-natured laughter and more than a few raised eyebrows. “I told you,” she said, turning to her brother. “You owe me fifty bucks.”

  “I don’t know about you,” Myrna said, taking the focus thankfully off Seth and myself. “But I’m getting too old to pull these all-nighters. I’m going home.”

  There were several murmurs of agreement as well as several voices declining rides home from Myrna as we all filed out of the old mill. Despite being completely bone weary and now incapable of taking shortcuts outside the Cycle, I too declined the offer for a ride.

  “Probably best not to tempt fate now that we’re mortal,” Seth stage whispered with a wink, knowing full well that Myrna could hear us. His cheek earned him a raised middle finger.

  “You and I both know that Fate is nothing more than a careful rearrangement of circumstances by a group of Order’s best strategists,” I reminded him. “But you know,” I added, feeling suddenly not so sure of myself. “I can’t say that I’m terribly upset with the lot they’ve cast us.”

  “I…” Seth turned away and for a moment, my confidence faltered, but when he looked back, there was a red flush in his cheeks and a smile on his lips. “Me too. I’m glad we’ve been given a chance to end this cycle on our own terms. However that ends up playing out.”

  “I can agree with that,” I said, taking his hand in mine, feeling genuinely happy for the first time in a very long time. “Come on, let’s go home.”

  Chapter 13

  So It Goes

  From the chaos comes form, from form, the divide, from the divide, balance, and from balance, order. From order the need to rebel, from rebellion, upset, from upset, anarchy, and from anarchy, chaos.

  The Cycle continues, never-ending and unbreakable, but not without change. Eventually, all of my imperfect creations discover the truth for themselves, but which truth seeks to be found is in their hands alone. Some find their way in a moment of quiet introspection, some in a flash of clarity in an otherwise muddled existence. Some spend countless lifetimes reliving the same cycle over and over only to discover that the Truth they sought was right in front of their nose the whole time. And sometimes, the Truth comes at the cost of an all-out war.

  The Battle for Blackbird was not an anomaly. For as long as Order exists, Chaos will try and tear it down. It was not an anomaly, but it was unique, as are all of the souls who lived, loved, and learned from the experience. And though they shall ever flow through the infinite Cycle, each shall be changed, fresh, and born anew. That which was once will be no more, yet that which is will ever be.

  Ah, dear readers, I have gone vague again, haven’t I? Forgive me this one personality quirk that has frustrated a good many of my agents. It is not, nor has it ever been my intention to deceive or misdirect. Mine is but a passive role and I often find cryptic declarations to be the simplest tool with which I can remind my agents of this fact. I imagine it must be just as infuriating to those of you wishing for a tidy ending, no?

  I suppose this would be the part of the novel known as the epilogue, were this perhaps something more closely resembling a typical novel. But alas, if you are looking for the nice, neat, and cleanly presented closure of an epilogue, there is not much I can do to alleviate your inevitable disappointment. For the infinite Cycle has no such closure.

  I suppose you might also be thinking that an all-powerful being such as I could reasonably predict what might become of the heroes of Blackbird when all is said and done. Once again, I am afraid that I must disappoint. No, I would not expect a single one of them to follow dow
n a path that leads to a predictable end.

  Just as a parent who watches their young grow into adulthood, I am ever proud of all of my imperfect creations. I am aware that each and every soul has a purpose, a function, a meaning for existing. I am proud, yes, but I do not take credit. I am merely the Creator, not the Decider. My creations choose their own paths, fates, and destinies. Once the act of creation is over, I become, as you are, reader, nothing more than a spectator. A voyeur peeking in on a small sliver in the stream of life, but even I have only so much leisure. Do not be so surprised by this. Just because I exist as an infinite being outside of measurable time does not mean I can do as I please. I’m afraid bureaucracy exists outside the Cycle in as much the same capacity as within.

  I daresay though, certain souls may have an easier time adjusting to Blackbird’s new normal than others. For certain, the new Warrior has already begun to pester me for reassignment to a more active area. She needn’t worry. For Chaos always seems to find a sliver or crack to wind its way back into our domain.

  Beyond that, I’ll leave each of my creations to tell you their own continued story, should they feel inclined to do so. Some might jump at the opportunity to regale readers with tales of their daring and not so daring exploits. Others, however, might prefer to live out the rest of their lives in relative obscurity, grateful to be out from under the scrutinizing eye of the reading public. Perhaps it is best that we give those who have served and saved the privacy they deserve.

  But that is no way to end a novel, you might shout, feeling let down (and reasonably so, I might add). All right then, I suppose if closure is what you want, then closure is what I shall give you, in as much as I can:

  And so by the sheer force of their tenacity, the citizens of Blackbird, both those of my own imperfect creation and those who have chosen to accept my law, lived happily ever after. At least, for the next couple of days, while the newness still surrounded the opening of the Big Royal Burger. After all, we’re still talking about Blackbird.

  The End

  (Oh come now. You know better than that.)

  A note from the Author

  (AKA: The Other Creator)

  Back in the mid-nineties, I wrote a short, atmospheric horror story about an angelic watchman named Seth, a vampire hunting bartender named Desmond, and the vampire from Seth’s past that comes back to haunt him. Had you told me then that this would become the basis for a humorous urban fantasy series, I would have scoffed. I would have been insulted. I would have smoked a cigarette and waxed poetic about how life was too fleeting and meaningless for such fits of whimsy.

  I might have been a bit of a pretentious jerk at that particular juncture.

  But you see, much like the all-powerful Creator of my series, I find that regardless of my intention, regardless of the strength of my will, I am not the one who controls my characters’ lives. They have all taken on lives of their own. It seems at times that I exist merely as a set dresser. How the play is acted is out of my hands.

  I find that I’ve made my peace with this. There are perks to being nothing more than a conduit through which my sentient ideas tell their tale, not the least of which is that I too get to experience the story as it unfolds. And I would not give this feeling up for anything in the world.

  I do not know whether I will be returning to Blackbird, or even whether I will be following any of the characters on their journeys elsewhere. But I have enjoyed the time I’ve had to spend with them all and I hope you have as well. Thank you, reader, for coming along on this journey with me.

  While I am an independent author, I have not had to shoulder this series alone. I’ve had the help of wonderful friends, family, and fellow authors who have helped by listening to my ideas and acting as beta readers and light copy editors. Special thanks to the following: Jacqui Lewis, Amy Newman Hendrickson, and Leslie Smith for reading and finding my mistakes for years. Fellow authors K. Caffee and G.G. Atcheson for being my beta readers for this series. My husband Jason for having to listen to me prattle about my ideas from inception to completion.

  And finally, a huge thank you to the Support for Indie Authors community for providing a friendly, positive, and supportive environment for all independent authors. In the murky darkness of self-publishing help on the internet, theirs is the light that shines brightest.

  About the Author

  Christina McMullen is a science fiction and fantasy author who prefers to put a nontraditional spin on these two beloved genres. All of her books are available in digital format worldwide through Amazon’s markets. Paperback copies of select titles are also available through most retailers.

  Christina also neglects maintains a blog called Vampires & Robots, which offers book reviews, amusing looks at both the past and future of technology, and insights on social issues as they pertain to science fiction. She currently resides in Texas with her husband and their dogs.

  For more information on new releases, upcoming projects, contests, monthly free book giveaways, discounted book promotions, or just to say hi, please consider following Christina on Facebook, Twitter, or you may also send her an email at mcmullenwrites@gmail.com.