by EJ Wallace
“No,” they both said in unison.
“She was just wishing me luck,” Jake said, clearing his throat.
“Ah,” Ben said with a nod, a smile forming at the corner of his mouth. “Well, do you two need any more well-wishing time? Or can you wait until after we get back to start smooching?”
Jake shook his head and shoved a baseball cap on, drawing the bill low. “Let's just go,” he said, dashing for the door.
It was a cold and clear night, not a single snowflake in the air. Not even so much as a bit of fog. The moon was full, too, basking the endless fields of snow in light. You could see everything for hundreds of feet, clear as day. The worst kind of night for a covert operation. It was just Jake's kind of luck.
When Ben reached the pick-up truck, Jake complained, “Have you seen the moon?”
Ben nodded. “Yeah, it's a blue one, fursure.”
“It might as well be a spotlight,” Jake growled as he climbed in the truck.
Ben stopped him. “And just what do you think you're doing?”
Jake was confused. “Well, what do you want me to do? Walk to the man's house? Or fly?”
Ben grinned. “That depends. How badly do you want to remain hidden?”
“It's the most important part about this whole operation,” Jake said.
“Good, then get in the back.”
Jake paused. “What?”
“Don't ask questions, just do it. The less griping the better,” Ben insisted.
Jake sighed. “This whole thing is a fiasco,” he mumbled as he jumped into the back. The cold metal bit into his back as he sat down.
“Now lay down,” Ben said.
“But there are still logs in here!” Jake protested.
“Exactly. I'm just bringing them down to the mill. Spent a little too long in the forest tonight, have to turn ‘em in before midnight. The perfect alibi. Thought of it myself,” Ben said proudly.
“With a lot of thought about my personal comfort, I see,” Jake grumbled, but lay down. It really was a good idea.
“Now stay still and shut your trap, ‘til you hear me knock on the fender three times, like this.” Ben slapped the side of the truck. “Got it? Good.” Ben threw the tarp over the truck, and darkness descended around Jake.
“Oh, and one last thing,” Ben said as he climbed into the truck. “Don't squirm too much. The tail-gate's been known to bust open a time or two. I've lost more loads than I care to count that way. But that only seems to happen when I'm carrying precious cargo. So we shouldn't have to worry now, should we?” Ben said with a laugh, then Jake heard the truck door slam and the engine roar to life.
The ride was long but peaceful. Jake actually felt quite cozy among the logs. The smoky scent of cedar filled his lungs, and the rhythmic thrum of the road was making his eyes grow heavy.
THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! The noise startled Jake out of his sleep. They had stopped moving. Were they finally here? THUMP! THUMP! THUMP! That was the signal. Jake lurched forward and pulled the tarp off of his face. Ben was awaiting him with two other men cast in shadows.
“Who are they?” Jake hissed.
Ben looked bashfully at his feet. “That's the boy's father and Dr. Hoffman. He said he had to see it one more time. To really believe it.”
Jake leered at Ben, then at the sick boy's father. “You promised me!” The man looked down.
Dr. Hoffman stepped forward. “Nice to see you again,” he said, extending a hand.
“We've met?” Jake asked.
“Well, yes, you just weren't,” the doctor cleared his throat, “conscious.”
Jake switched his stare back to Ben.
Ben shrugged. “Well, we figured he's already seen it once. Can't do much more damage now, can we?”
Jake shook his head. “Whatever. Let's just get this over with.” He hopped out of the back, and the four made their way into the cellar.
“So what's wrong with the kid, anyway?” Jake asked as the boy's father unlocked the padlock over the cellar door.
“He's got amyotrophic lateral sclerosis,” Dr. Hoffman said. “It's a rare genetic degenerative disease. He just started showing symptoms of it about a month ago. Normally, it takes years for the symptoms to exacerbate so much. But Mr. Milton's son's symptoms went from bad to worse very quickly. Now the boy is having trouble breathing. Short of an iron lung or an act of God, he will be dead within the week.”
Mr. Miller finally got the cellar door to open. “Follow me,” he whispered, and descended down the stairs.
The air hung heavy in the cellar. It was damp and humid. There was a strange chemical scent as well, like embalming fluid. The room had the unmistakable presence of death. That's when Jake saw the boy. He was wrapped in several blankets pulled tight, like a coffin. An IV was running from his bedside into his palm. A feeding tube was also taped to his nostril. The boy's skin was ghostly white, with a web of blue veins that were visible right beneath the surface. He was sleeping now, but his breathing was raspy and rapid. The boy was barely clinging to life.
“How long has he been like this, John?” Ben asked.
Mr. Miller shook his head. “Three days now. His convulsing got so violent he was hurting himself, so we had to tie him up,” the man said, sobbing. “Can you help my son?”
Jake took a deep breath. He could feel the love the boy's father had for him. Deep, unconditional love. It made the light inside Jake grow brighter, stronger. “Yes,” Jake said. “I think I can.”
Jake walked over to the bed and slowly began to peel back each sweat-soaked cover. The smell was awful, but Jake ignored it. He could feel the glow growing. Feel the boy's spirit. It was strong; he was a fighter. He wanted to live. To play. That's what he was doing now, in his dreams. He was playing catch with his dad. Taking long healthy strides after a football his dad had thrown too far.
Jake took a deep breath and put his hands over the boy's frail chest. There were toxins throughout the boy's entire body. Warped and mutilated parts of him, digging into the uncorrupted flesh like talons. The boy's soul, though, was untainted, so white it shimmered. The light in Jake pushed itself through his veins and into his hands, then traveled into the boy's body.
Jake absorbed the darkness, sapped it out of the boy like venom. There was so much, though. The stream of blackness seemed to be never ending.
“It's working,” Mr. Miller said in a hushed voice.
Jake saw the boy's skin begin to change, first his fingertips, then his hands and feet. Slowly, the color crept to his heart. The darkness was drenching Jake. It opened like a flood gate, gushing into him, swallowing him whole, but Jake couldn't let go now, he wouldn't, not until the job was done. He cried out in agony as the darkness lashed out at him, tendrils of it digging into his guts.
Then the child gasped, and his eyes opened. “Daddy?” he said.
Mr. Miller began to bawl then. “Taylor,” he choked. “It's a miracle.” He rushed to his son and squeezed him tightly. “I thought I was going to lose you there for a while, son. Don't you ever do that to me again. Ever! You understand me?”
The boy nodded. “I was in Heaven, Daddy. I saw Grandpa.”
Mr. Miller sobbed more, half laughing, half crying. “You're back now, son. It wasn't your time.”
Jake was shivering. He felt so cold, so weak. He was on his knees now, unable to stand. He felt dizzy, nauseous. The room began to spin
Dr. Hoffman shook his head. “I wouldn't have believed it in a million years, not if I hadn't seen it myself. Ten minutes ago the boy could hardly breathe, now he wants to go play catch.”
That's when Ben noticed Jake. “Jake, are you all right?”
The poison Jake had taken from the boy was in him now, trying to tear him apart. There had been so much of it, more that Jake had ever felt before. Slowly, though, his strength returned. Shakily, he stood. “Yeah, fine. Just took more out of me than I thought,” he admitted, wiping the sweat from his brow.
Ben laughed and patted him on
the back. “You just need a warm drink. Let's get you home, and I'll make you an Irish hot cocoa. You'll be back to normal in no time.”
Jake nodded. He would be grateful for a hot drink and a cool bed.
“Thank you so much,” Mr. Miller said, shaking Jake's hand furiously. “How can I ever repay you?”
“Simple,” Jake said. “Never say a word of this to any one, not for as long as you live. Not just for me, but for your son, for your family. Do you understand?”
“Of course,” the man said.
“I hope you do, because sometimes death only misses you so he can circle back around and hit twice as hard,” Jake said, then slammed the cellar door shut, disappearing into the star-dusted night.
Chapter 7
(Sophie)
Sophie had waited up all night for Ben and Jake to come home. She had spent most of that time alone, thinking about what Jake had said to her before he left. Then she imagined his icy eyes, and the way he looked at her, as if he were admiring artwork. Nobody had ever looked at her that way before.
She could see their future pan out right before her eyes, even without her powers. Jake could work on the farm with Ben, and she could get a job in town. Then they could save up and build a house, right on the farm next to Ben's, and Zack and Mary could visit whenever they liked. Maybe they could even have kids of their own, and when they branched out, it would just be her and Jake, watching the sunsets every night, growing old together. She sighed, her heart filled with a dull ache. For the first time in Sophie's life, the emptiness inside her felt full. She was whole.
That's when the doorknob began to jostle, making Sophie's heart sing. She dashed to the door, so anxious to see Jake's weary smile. She opened the door, and a different smile greeted her, one far more insidious.
“Good morning,” the man in front of Sophie hissed. His eyes were vertical slits and glowed red, the same way Jake's had the night before. It made Sophie's blood run cold. The man pushed past Sophie and into the house.
“Who are you?” Sophie asked, never taking her eyes off the man.
The man examined the house, strolling casually through the den. “Quaint, but with a sort of rustic charm. Very Christ-like. A good place to raise a few runts,” the man said dryly.
Sophie's heart leaped in her chest. The kids, she thought, then rushed towards Mary's bedroom. She ripped the door open and came to an abrupt stop. A strange woman with red hair was sitting on the ground with Mary, pulling the button eyes off of a doll. Terror petrified Sophie into place.
“Look, Sophie, I made a new friend,” Mary said. “She says she's her name is Andras. Isn't that weird?”
“Come here, Mary. Right now!” Sophie commanded, holding out her hand.
Mary frowned. “Why? Don't you want to play with us?”
The red-headed woman jumped to her feet. Her movements were graceful and swift, like a lioness. “Yeah, Sophie, don't you want to play with us? I like to play with fire,” she said holding out her palm. The air around her hand immolated, and a tongue of flame erupted into existence. The reflection of the fire danced in the woman's blood-colored eyes.
“Wow! That's a cool trick,” Mary said. “Can you teach me?”
“Mary, where is your brother?” Sophie asked, the panic beginning to creep in.
“He is here,” a smoky voice said. Sophie turned to see a massive mahogany man. He had rippled arms as big as logs and towered over her. Below him was Zack, who looked as though he had just seen a ghost.
“Sophie, who are these people?” Zack asked shakily.
“Old friends,” a voice from the hallway said. It was the man with the long black hair. Sophie, the kids, they were all surrounded now, cornered like mice in a snake pit. Please, God, help us, she thought.
“Eck,” the redhead said, scrunching her nose. “The tall one just prayed, Ras' Guul.”
That name. It shot through Sophie like ten thousand volts. Then it dawned on her. They were here, the people hunting Jake. They had found them. He had been right all along. How had she not seen this coming? Why had her gift left her now, when she needed it most?
Ras' Guul laughed. It was cold and harsh. “Don't worry, the smell will fade. Besides, we are guests. We should be more respectful of our hosts.”
“What do you want from us?” Sophie asked.
Ras' Guul's eyes narrowed. “Oh, I think you know, oracle,” he snarled. “Or do you?” he asked, cocking his head. “Curious,” he said finally. “Your mana is weak, like dying embers. Why do you think that is, Andras?”
The redhead examined Sophie closely. “Hard to say. She is still a virgin. She is oozing purity, all of them are. It's revolting,” she spat.
“Hmm.” Ras' Guul contemplated. “No matter. It would have been far more difficult to track Ragnarok had the oracle's gift warned them of our coming. I owe you my thanks,” he said with a smirk, nodding to Sophie. “However,” he continued, pressing his hands together. “I do require one other favor. Where is the prophecy?”
“What are they talking about, Sophie?” Zack asked.
“Jake. They're talking about Jake,” Sophie said solemnly.
“Ah yes, Jake.” Ras' Guul tested the name on his tongue. Such an ill-fitting name. Weak, like the mortals who made it.
Sophie looked at the clock. It was 8am. Ben and Jake should have been back hours ago. She prayed he would not return. “I'll never tell you where he is. I don't care what you do to me,” Sophie said. She meant it, too. She would rather die.
Ras' Guul scoffed. “Oh please, don't be so naive. You will tell me where the prophecy is. Because though you may not care what happens to you…” Ras' Guul paused, gliding over to Mary. He gently brushed a strand of her hair over her ear. “I'm sure we can find something you care about...”
“Stop!” Sophie said. “I don't know where he is. It's the truth.”
Ras' Guul looked to the big man incredulously. “Balan?”
The muscled man nodded. “It is true. I sense no sin in her words. No lies.”
Ras' Guul's smirk faded. “And the children?”
“They don't know anything either. He was supposed to be back hours ago. There's no telling where he is now,” Sophie said. Then a thought struck Sophie. Maybe Jake had seen the demons come and escaped. At first she thought that would relieve her, but that would mean he abandoned the children to die, abandoned her. In the end everyone had abandoned her, the gods and her gift, too. Pain blossomed in the pit of her stomach, traveling outwards until her eyes began to water.
“Useless,” Ras' Guul snarled. “Just kill them all,” he said with a wave of his hand. Sophie felt the massive hands of Balan begin to wrap around her neck. Sophie tried to be brave in death. For Zack and Mary, she had to be strong.
“Wait!” Andras said. “Perhaps they are still of some use.”
“How?” Ras' Guul asked.
Andras smirked. “He can't be far. The air here is thick with his mana. He was here at least eight hours ago. That means he cannot be farther than that town we passed on the way here. Someone there has to know where he is. We can take the children and the oracle to the town square and execute them one by one until the townspeople surrender the prophecy. We will kill each and every human there if we must.”
Ras' Guul grinned. “What a foul and brilliant plot. I am truly impressed.”
“You're going to die,” Sophie said, pointing to Ras' Guul.
All three of the demons looked to Sophie, stunned.
Then Ras' Guul relaxed. “Nice try, but I am immortal, and your powers no longer work. Nothing can kill me.”
“God can! He can do anything!” Mary said.
Ras' Guul looked down at the little girl, noticing her for the first time. He paused, then leaned down close to her. “God is a lie,” he whispered, and all of the lights in the house extinguished at once, engulfing them in darkness.
****
(Jake)
The warm, chocolaty liquid in Jake's cup made the stiffness in his
back muscles melt away.
“How's that treating you, bud? Need any more whip cream?” the man asked.
Jake shook his head. “No thanks, it's perfect.”
“Joe here can make a mean cup of cocoa, there's no denying that,” Ben said, holding up his steaming cup.
Joe smiled and nodded. “Much obliged,” he said, and went back to wiping down the counter.
Jake looked outside. The snow had begun to melt, finally, becoming piles of slush under the morning sun's rays. Spring was almost here. His thoughts drifted to Sophie. Before he had met her, he never thought he would have the chance to have a normal life, a happy one. She made that not only a possibility, but a reality. He was thankful. That's the only word he could think of to describe it. He did not deserve to find her, but he had anyway, and for that he would be forever thankful. Finally, Jake took a deep breath and relaxed, perhaps for the first time ever.
“Well, I suppose we had better start heading back. The girls are already gonna be sore that we were late for breakfast,” Ben said finally, then went up to the counter to pay for the drinks.
“No,” Joe said shaking his head. “It's on the house.”
Ben cocked an eyebrow. “What for?”
Joe shrugged. “For what you two did for Miller's boy. Neither of you will ever have to buy something in this restaurant again. I can tell you that much.”
“How did you know about Mr. Miller's son?” Ben asked, stupefied. It had only just happened hours ago.
Joe shrugged. “The whole town knows, Ben. You boys are heroes.”
Ben grimaced. “That Miller never could keep his mouth shut, him or his wife.”
Joe shook his head. “Don't worry. We aren't gonna turn you in to the government or nothin’. We don't like them out here anyways. We just want to thank you. The mayor is going to invite you to the town square for an award ceremony. Everyone is going to be there.”
“The mayor,” Ben repeated, shocked.
