by Platt, Sean
“Tell me,” Duncan said, “why didn’t you kill Jacob a decade ago in Florida?”
John was surprised that Duncan knew he’d been there and that he’d almost gone after Jacob.
How much more does he know?
“Someone had to look after Caleb; you sure weren’t doing the job. Tell me something. Why would you have Caleb hunting feeders? If you’re trying to protect him from Jacob, why not give him a desk job, shelter him from his past? Maybe not have his picture in the fucking papers?”
Duncan smiled but didn’t answer.
John wondered if Duncan knew he hadn’t killed Julia, that his success story had turned, but didn’t dare ask. If Duncan knew that, certainly Caleb’s days would’ve been numbered. They’d never risk him turning, and possibly going to Jacob.
After a long silence, Duncan’s smug smile vanished. “They want me to kill you, John. To protect Caleb.”
Ah, here’s the point of the visit.
“If I could have avoided this, I would have. I never wanted either of you to get hurt, but as you know, Caleb’s like a son to me, and I’ll do anything to protect him. Will do anything to protect him.”
John glared. “Don’t act like this isn’t your idea. You’ve wanted me dead for years.”
“If I wanted you dead, well … don’t underestimate my reach. Fact is, I tried to convince them it wasn’t necessary. But … ”
“It is?”
“Some people are worried that we can’t protect you both. That if Harbinger can get to you, they can get to Caleb. The Guardians will do anything to prevent Jacob from reaching the portal. And that includes killing your brother.”
Duncan’s speech and light green aura swore he was telling the truth.
“So, what? You want me to kill myself?”
“Well, first, you have to revert. Then kill yourself. It’s the only way we know Jacob will learn of your death. Your parasites are connected. He’ll know when you die.”
“Jesus Christ,” John said, sighing, trying to suss out the situation, and find an alternative. Short of killing Jacob and everyone who worked with him, he could think of nothing. And killing Jacob was impossible — especially in John’s current state as an aging mortal.
“I’m not even sure I could revert if I wanted,” John said.
“We can help you.”
“No, no, I’ll figure it out,” John said, annoyed.
“So, you’ll do this, then?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“We always have choices,” Duncan said.
“Yeah, right,” John said with a grim smile. “How long do I have?”
“The Guardians need to see you gone in two days,” Duncan said. “The Guardians and Harbingers both have creepers in the area. They’re getting closer.”
“Here, now?”
“See,” Duncan said, “your senses are getting weak. Can you find someone to do this in two days? If not, I need to know; we can use my men.”
“I have someone in mind,” John said, thinking of Adam.
Duncan pulled a knife from his coat pocket and circled John to cut his ties. But John had already freed himself.
Duncan smiled. “Haven’t lost your touch for the escape, have you?”
John smiled. “Never.”
John walked Duncan to the door. Before saying goodbye, Duncan reached into his jacket, pulled out an envelope, and handed it to John. “Just in case you change your mind.”
John opened it as Duncan walked out the door.
Inside were four photos of a woman he’d been missing for more than a decade — a woman he gave up as forever lost. The pictures showed her in a car, a recent model. Another photo showed her standing in line at the grocery store, tabloid in hand. A third was shot through her living room window. She was mid-yawn, watching TV.
A slip of paper kept the photos from getting lonely. It read, We know where Hope is.
Fifty-Nine
John
October 6, 2011
Twelve days before John woke in the grave
“Are you sure you want to do this?” Larry stared into the grave where John stood inside his coffin, leaning on his shovel and catching his breath.
“No, but I have to.” In the two days since Duncan’s visit, Larry had already tried talking John out of it dozens of times. But he wouldn’t take a chance that the Guardians would kill Caleb or Hope.
Truth was, John had been waiting to die for some time. He didn’t want to die, but he also didn’t want to live forever. Not this life, without friends, without family, never getting close to anyone other than a pudgy PI and a pudgier golden retriever. Larry said he’d take care of Calvin, but when John woke this morning, the dog had passed away in his sleep. John surprised himself by crying for the first time in years.
After burying his dog, he called Larry, and the two spent the day hanging out one last time. They ate well, drank even better, and had a memorable final hurrah. Larry tried to suggest alternate methods, including finding Caleb and telling him everything, then going after Hope so they could team up and kill Jacob, his Harbingers, and the Guardians. John liked Larry’s gusto, but the plan was a screenplay, not a strategy.
Larry asked John to show him a few final spells. John obliged. When they’d first met, Larry became obsessed with all things Otherworld. He was fascinated with magick and began spending nights in search for Others, artifacts, and any wisdom he could gather about John’s home world. He claimed his interests were solely to help John steer clear of the Harbingers, but John knew the greedy gaze of obsession. Not that he could blame Larry. For a human, particularly one who never really fit in with others, learning the ancient secrets of magick was intoxicating.
Within months of learning a few tricks and meeting some of the Others, Larry’s demeanor went from awkward and shy to outgoing and bursting with life. He swaggered with a sudden self-confidence, stepping into his new, outrageous persona with ease. John was genuinely happy for him and wondered if Larry would be lost with him gone, reverting back to his former shy self.
John glanced at Larry and felt as if he might cry for the second time that day.
“Goddamn you.” Larry burst into tears, dropped the shovel, hopped into the grave, and embraced John like a grizzly.
Adam stood at the foot of the pit, reading a spell aloud from his tattered black book, twilight blotting the sun. The box, a modified coffin with exterior locks, was specially designed to hold John underground for two full nights, after which time he’d revert to being a feeder. Once changed, Adam and Larry would return, dig up the coffin, and open slots in the lid of the box to let the sunlight in. John’s death would be painful, Adam warned, but quick.
John had wanted to be buried closer to home, but Adam picked the field for its proximity to a naturally occurring energy source, something that Otherworlders could sense and use to increase the power of their magick, but which humans had no knowledge of. Or at least no actual knowledge. Some humans — psychics, the mentally disturbed, and some children — could sense the energies, though they never grasped their source, or its many uses.
“I can’t believe this is it,” Larry said. “Are you sure?”
John laughed at his friend’s persistence.
“You realize I’m gonna have to find new clients now?”
“No, you’re not.” John reached into his pocket, retrieved a safe deposit box key, and handed it to Larry. “There’s enough there to keep you in Mountain Dew and pizza for the next fifty years. Assuming your arteries don’t clog before then.”
“Oh, man, you shouldn’t have.” Larry grabbed the key and threw his arms back around John.
“I know. I was going to leave it all to Calvin, but he dropped dead on me, so I figured I’d give it to my other furry friend.”
Larry laughed. A moment later, John did, too, surprised to find levity in these final moments.
“We must get started,” Adam called from above. “I need you to lie down in the box, John. Then Larry will lock it. And then
… ”
“You bury me,” John said.
John looked Larry in the eyes one last time, gave him a final embrace and a goodbye to go with it, then sat as Larry climbed from the grave.
“I need your shirt,” Adam called out. “If we lose the spot where you’re buried, I can use it to track you.”
John removed his shirt, tossed it up to Adam, then lay in the coffin and lowered the lid.
Darkness swallowed him whole. Though he’d never been claustrophobic, a panic rose in his throat, and it was all he could do to not scream a plea for release. While he could squirm a little, John felt suddenly paralyzed by his inability to turn over, scratch his back, or stretch his legs. Panic electrified his limbs.
The coffin was rocked by a thud — Larry landing on top to fasten the locks. A moment later, John heard scraping then sliding as Larry opened one of the slots. His friend looked down at him, eyes wet. “One last chance, buddy.”
John wanted out more than he’d ever wanted anything — except the promise of safety for Hope and Caleb.
“Close it,” John said, trying not to let his voice break.
“Okay,” Larry said, “goodbye, my friend.”
Behind Larry, John saw the night sky. It had never looked more beautiful, or far away.
Larry closed the slot and sealed the tomb.
John began to repeat a calming spell to quell his anxiety.
Adam’s words grew more muffled.
Larry shoveled earth onto the casket.
John wondered how long it would take for the spell to take effect. How long it would be before he’d feel the familiar lust to feed on humans. Fortunately, Larry’s sedatives kicked in before Adam’s voice faded completely. He hoped the pills would last at least eight hours so he’d sleep through the worst of his transformation.
John woke with no idea how much time had passed. He had no idea if Larry and Adam were gone. His heartbeat and breathing filled the small, otherwise silent space. He reached into his pocket, retrieved another two pills, and swallowed them.
He chanted another calming spell, wishing he’d thought to bring something stronger, but hiding out and staying inactive so long had left him less prepared.
He thought about Hope. How beautiful she looked the last time he’d seen her more than a decade ago. He wondered if she was happy. If she’d found someone else. Though he didn’t like the thought of his love with another, he hoped she wasn’t alone.
Life was too difficult in isolation.
His heart ached, amplified by pills.
Hot tears streamed down his face.
The next time he woke, John felt the familiar hunger. The change had started. He could feel the earth around him, teeming with life — insects burrowing underground while rodents and birds scurried above. His body began to vibrate, tuning into their life waves, though they were all too painfully far from reach to absorb.
He repeated the calming spell, but the spell did nothing.
John screamed, pounding against the casket.
He had to get out, had to feed.
Now.
The hunger burned in his gut, in his bones, in his muscles, and most of all, in his mind. John’s thoughts were jumbled, snippets of sentences and memories peppered with staccato blasts of pain and rage.
He was having trouble remembering things, simple things, and struggled to recall the only thing he could think of besides feeding: Hope.
He found another two pills in his pocket.
Then the final two.
He swallowed them and waited for sleep to claim him.
John woke to muffled voices and footsteps above.
He screamed, “Help!” while kicking and pounding at the casket. He could feel a set of souls overhead, oozing life force. One of them was an Otherworlder, meaning he had even more force to absorb. His hands ached, twitching in anticipation.
So close.
Then he heard digging and remembered who was above.
Larry and Adam.
Thank God.
He prayed for a quick death. That the sun was high enough in the sky to kill him immediately. To end his hunger.
After some digging, the ground began to shake around him.
What’s happening?
He squirmed in his box, panicking at the thought that the earth might crush him. Instead, the casket was rising. Adam must have been using a raise earth spell to bring the coffin closer to ground level. But why?
What the hell are they doing?
He could now hear Larry and Adam better, could feel their warm bodies. He longed to feed, closing his eyes and smiling at the thought of sucking the lives from their bodies.
John shook his head, trying to clear the thoughts. Then he remembered: They were raising him in order to open the slot and let the sun in. All part of the plan.
“Do it!” John screamed, kicking the casket. “Kill me, now!”
More talking. Adam reciting another spell.
“What are you doing?” John’s throat was raw and dry, echoing in the small confined space.
Adam kept talking, his voice muffled on the other side of the box. John paused, holding his breath, trying to hear Adam’s words. Then he recognized the spell — a mind wipe.
What the fuck is going on?
“Hey!” John kicked the casket again.
No response.
“LARRY!”
Still no response beyond Adam’s steady recitation.
His hunger rolled over and stood up, threatening to split his body in a wave of pain.
Why are they wiping me?
They’re supposed to be killing me!
What are you fuckers doing?
He kicked harder, now pounding the casket.
A loud thunk came from above as someone slapped the casket’s top. Larry; John could sense his signature.
Yes, he’s gonna open the slider, let the sunlight in, and end my misery now. Please, do it quickly, Larry. Don’t hesitate. Just do it.
As Larry did whatever the hell he was doing, John felt the man’s energy beckoning him to feed. It hurt to have food so close yet just out of reach. John wasn’t sure how long he could take it before he lost control, broke free, and fed off both the men.
“Come on!” John screamed, kicking again. “Hurry up!”
“Calm down, calm down.” Larry slid the casket slot open.
John was shocked to see the night sky above.
“What the hell is going on? It’s supposed to be daytime! Why are you opening the slot at night?”
“Sorry, John, I have to do this,” he whispered.
“What? What are you doing, Larry?”
“It will all make sense later.” Larry slipped a paper through the slot. “Put that in your pocket. You’ll need it when you wake up.”
“What are you talking about when I wake up?” John screamed, agitation, confusion, and panic twisting his insides. “What the hell are you doing? You’re supposed to be killing me, Larry!”
“Put it in your pocket,” Larry repeated. “You won’t remember anything when you wake up. You’ll need this.”
“What the hell?”
“Put it in your pocket, now!” Larry snapped, “We don’t have much time.”
John pushed the paper down into his pocket. Fear mingled with rage and hunger for escape.
Suddenly, his hunger outweighed his desire for death.
The men above, their life forces so powerful, called to him.
“Let me out!” John screamed, punching and kicking at the box. “Kill me, or let me out, Larry!”
Adam finished reciting the spell then called to Larry, “I thought you said he wanted us to do this.”
Silence as John listened for Larry’s response.
Gunshots punctured the night like thunder.
Two shots and a thump. Adam screamed and fell to the dirt.
No!
“Larry!” John screamed. “What the fuck did you do?”
Larry fired another shot into Adam, an
d John felt the man’s life slipping away into the void.
“What are you doing, Larry?”
Larry didn’t respond.
“Answer me! What’s going on?”
Larry leaned over the casket again, his eyes meeting John’s. The kindness, compassion, and humor were absent from his friend’s eyes, replaced by something else, something John couldn’t quite place.
And then it hit him — greed. Something he’d sensed over the years, but never to this extent.
“What have you done?”
Larry said nothing. Instead, he dropped something else through the slot. A green, luminescent orb, about the size of a tennis ball, fell onto his chest and rolled to his shoulder.
What the?
John heard a hiss as air escaped the ball. Moments later, he slipped into darkness, waking almost two weeks later with nothing but a note in his pocket.
Sixty
Larry And John
Larry
October 21, 2011
Present day
They arrived at the safe house just after sunset, a nondescript warehouse in the middle of a well-stocked row, in the decaying heart of the inner city. Most of the warehouses in the six square blocks were routinely vandalized. Larry’s was left alone thanks to a deal he’d made with a local street gang, the Eastside Riders.
As the van rolled into the warehouse, Larry was greeted by a six-foot-six black man dressed all in black and wearing a matching skull cap: Anthony Rollins, commonly known as Tiny, a former collegiate football player who never made it past junior year thanks to some trouble back home. Now, he was a businessman dealing in narcotics and guns.
“Hey, Tiny,” Larry said as the two shook hands. “Any trouble?”
“No, ain’t even been a bleep.”
“Great. You gonna be free the next twenty-four hours or so?”
“Depends. What’s up?”
“We’ve got some serious heat on us.” Larry pointed to the van, reluctant to open the door for fear that Abigail might pounce. “So we need to lie low while I make a few plans. I might need some muscle. How many guys can you get me?”
