by Platt, Sean
“So, those are magick rocks?”
“Not quite. They’re soul rocks, containing the captured souls of our enemies.”
Talani cut in, “I thought you didn’t hurt people here.”
“We don’t. But we have friends who give them to us, helping to preserve the peace of our Sacred Woods.”
“Ah,” Talani said.
Abigail turned to Judith. “Can you cast a spell like this?”
Judith, who was looking much better than she had when Abigail first woke in the tree, with nary a black vein showing, shook her head. “No. I’m afraid my magick is minor in comparison.”
Mother, not even looking up, said, “Don’t be modest, Judith. You’ve performed powerful blood magick.”
Judith’s eyes narrowed on the child, but when she noticed Abigail looking, she shifted, and found an artificial smile.
“Nothing worth talking about,” Judith said.
Abigail wondered how Mother knew what she’d done. Had she read Judith’s mind while healing her? Or had she seen the future or past? If so, what had she seen?
Mother pushed one of the rocks into place then stood, stepped back, and turned to them. “Are you ready?”
Abigail nodded and looked at Judith and Talani. Both said, “Yes.”
“Remember, the In-Between can be a very dangerous place. But only if you let it. Maintain your focus on the light, and keep walking … no matter what you see.”
“What might we see?” Abigail asked.
“There are wraiths in the In-Between. While they can’t hurt you physically in the In-Between, but they can attack your mind, and use your fears against you. Remember that whatever things you see, they’re not real. Whatever you do, do not stop. The longer you’re in there, the morel likely you are to get lost.”
“What happens if we get lost?” Abigail asked.
“Then you become one of them, the wraiths.”
Abigail nodded. “Sounds simple enough.”
Mother smiled. “I hope so. But just in case, please take this.”
She reached into her dress pocket and pulled out a small black blade.
“What’s this for? I thought you said the wraiths couldn’t physically attack us?”
“It’s not for the wraiths,” she looked up at Judith and Talani, then back at Abigail.
Abigail frowned. “For them? They’re my friends.”
“The wraiths can use your friends against you. Just be careful.”
Judith’s lips pursed, but she held her tongue.
Talani looked uncomfortable.
Mother turned back to the stones on the floor and chanted in a language Abigail had never heard.
The air rippled as a crackling hum grew louder around them.
Abigail’s ears popped. A black sliver in the world opened in front of Mother, glowing gold along the edges.
Mother turned to them. “It’s ready.”
“Thank you,” Judith said, still showing some manners despite the tension between them.
Mother nodded, then walked away from the portal, glancing at Abigail one last time and mouthing the words, “Be careful.”
Judith entered the portal first, vanishing into the sliver.
Talani looked back at Abigail, then held out her hand. “Together?”
“Together,” Abigail said, grabbing her hand as she followed her new best friend into the In-Between.
Thirty
John
John’s wheels kept spinning, stuck in the horse-drawn carriage on their way to Jacob.
He needed to find a way out of this. He could sense twelve other men escorting the carriage, most of them Humkoer, and two of the big blue men, whatever they were, including the leader, Vashkar.
John couldn’t break the chains binding him to his friends, so escaping the carriage wasn’t a possibility. The earliest he could act would be when they arrived wherever these men planned to bring them.
If it was a direct transfer to Jacob or his men, John would stand down. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt there might be a way to reason with his brother, strike some sort of deal to keep Hope and Larry safe from harm.
But if the transfer wasn’t to Jacob, and instead to someone else who would then bring them the rest of the way, escape might be possible.
It was agony to sit and wait while so much was out of his control. But better to lie low and not appear as a threat. Perhaps it would give their enemies a false sense of security, one that would open the door for a slip-up and offer John a weakness to exploit.
But John wasn’t particularly good at waiting at times like this.
He looked at Hope and Larry, both their eyes bereft of any promise. He was desperate to lift their spirits. These might be his last moments with either of them if things went south.
“Larry, do you remember when you went to that dating service and got set up with that fitness instructor?”
Larry looked at John confused, likely wondering what the hell that story had to do with the end of their lives.
“You know, the Russian blonde? What was her name? Svetlana?”
“Ukrainian, not Russian,” Larry said, starting to laugh.
“What happened?” Hope asked.
John said, “You want to tell it, or should I?”
“I’ll tell it. You always fuck up the ending.”
“If by fuck up, you mean tell it exactly as it really happened, then yeah, guilty as charged,” John teased.
“Okay, as you may or may not know, back then I was a private investigator. Except I had more clients than Johnny Boy here. Suffice it to say, I was busy and didn’t have time to meet women the regular way.”
John interjected. “He means to say that he doesn’t know how to meet women the regular way.”
“Are you gonna keep interrupting, or can I go on?”
Hope grinned at John.
John waved a hand, “Please, continue, Casanova.”
“So, anyway, this was when online dating was becoming a thing. I figured what the hell, right? So I answered a bunch of questions, built this profile so they could find the best match for me.”
“Okay,” Hope said, smiling in anticipation.
“And I got this hit from a hot Ukrainian in her early twenties. A fitness instructor who liked long walks on the beach, fine dining, and listening to classical music.”
“None of which Larry’s ever done by the way,” John interrupted.
“Not true! I like all those things.”
“Really? You’ve taken long walks on the beach?”
“Yeah, a few times I’ve had to follow people on foot to catch them in the act so I could bring photographic or video evidence to the client.”
“What about fine dining? Your idea of fine dining is McDonald’s.”
“Hey, McDonald’s is good food. And anyone who say’s it’s not is an elitist snob or lying to themselves. You don’t sell eight zillion burgers if your shit sucks, am I right?”
Hope was laughing hard.
“So, anyway, we’re gonna meet at this fancy restaurant called Walter’s Bistro on the Beach.”
Hope leaned forward, giggling.
“Now here’s the part of the story where I should mention that I may have told a tiny lie while setting up my account.”
John laughed. “Tiny?”
“Okay, maybe a big lie.”
“Your application was a staggering work of fiction!”
“What did you lie about?” Hope asked.
“I might have said that I was really into working out.”
Hope’s eyes crunched together, throttling her laughter.
John laughed out loud. “Go on; tell her the rest.”
“Okay, I may have also said I liked going on hikes and loved exploring the great outdoors.”
John was about to piss himself. “He’s not even telling you the biggest lie.”
“What’s that?”
“Okay, I may have used a picture from high school.”
Hope
lost it. “High school?”
“Hey, it’s the last time I was skinny!”
“And she didn’t notice that you were a teenager?”
“I was an early bloomer! I had a beard when I was fifteen.”
“So, what happened?” Hope asked.
“Okay, so I go to this restaurant, and I’m sitting at a table waiting for her to show up. And I’m waiting. And waiting.”
Hope pursed her lips to keep from laughing again.
“I see this woman walk by a couple of times eying my table like she’s looking for someone. But she looked nothing like Svetlana. She was a brunette for one thing, not the chick with long blonde hair in her profile pic, but definitely fit, and was rocking this sexy little blue dress.”
“And?” Hope said, waiting for the punch line.
“So after a few times she comes over and asks, ‘Are you Larry?’ And I said, ‘Yeah, are you Svetlana?’ She said, ‘Yes’ and extended her hand. Then there’s this moment where I notice two things at once. First, the disappointment in her eyes. That she wasn’t getting the strapping young go-getter from the photo. And then the second thing: her hands.”
“What about her hands?” Hope asked.
“Man hands. And not just she was a girl that had manly hands like in that Seinfeld episode, but she had big, muscular man hands because … she was a dude!”
“No way!” Hope covered her mouth.
“Oh, yeah. Big man’s hands, and a visible Adam’s Apple. Of course then I realize her voice wasn’t quite as feminine as I first thought.”
“So, what happened?”
“We ate dinner,” Larry said, his voice falling an octave.
“And? Did she know that you knew?”
“I wasn’t sure. It was soooo damned awkward. On the one hand, no pun intended, here you have two people who obviously lied on their profiles, both too polite to call out the other’s bullshit, going through with the date like it’s just another ordinary Friday night.”
“So, what happened next?”
“Okay, so here’s where it gets a bit weird.”
John was stifling laughter, not wanting to ruin the punch line.
“The date is going great. We wind up talking about a lot of cool shit: sports, movies, and she’s telling me these crazy stories. She’s fucking hilarious. But again, we’re both avoiding the elephants in the room: that I’m a fat dude who looks nothing like his picture, and she’s got a dick. So, we get to the end of the date, and I walk Svetlana to her car. And I should preface this by saying that I’m not gay. Nor do I have anything against gay people, trans, whatever. But it’s not for me. I’m all about the ladies.”
“Okay,” Hope said, laughing.
“So, as I’m walking her to her car, there’s this moment where I’m wondering how the hell I’m gonna get out of a kiss if she tries it.”
“But you said she was pretty, right?” Hope said.
“Yeah, but I’m not into dudes. If I was gonna bang a pretty dude, I would’ve done John a long time ago.”
John laughed. “Sorry, buddy, I’ve got standards.”
“So I’m like freaking out inside with this whole inner dialogue — what do I do if she kisses me? What if she wants to see me again? I mean, we were getting along great, so it’s not like I can say, ‘Sorry, not interested. I’m into ladies, thank you.’ Because there was this small part of me that was like, What if she’s not a dude? What if she’s just a very masculine lady? I mean, it’s possible, right, and I don’t want to offend her. And it’s not like I can fucking ask, Hey, are you a dude or a chick?”
“Probably not a good idea,” Hope said.
“So, anyway, end of date, we’re at the car, and she comes in for a hug. And I’m like, uh-oh, the kiss is next, the kiss is next, what the fuck am I gonna do?” Larry paused, bit his lip to keep from laughing, and continued. “But then she just pulled away from the hug and said, ‘Nice to meet you, Larry. I had fun.’ Then she got into her car!”
“So, that’s good, right?” Hope asked, “no awkwardness, no having to talk your way out of a kiss or a next date?”
“No, it wasn’t good, because I was offended that she didn’t try to kiss me, or ask for a second date!”
“What?”
“Yes, even though I didn’t want the kiss, or the second date, I wanted her to want them.”
“You’re crazy,” Hope said.
“That’s not the end of the story. Svetlana was about to drive away when I knocked on her window and did that rolling down motion, then said, ‘Did our date go well? I feel like we really hit it off, but you’re all like, ‘Later, dude,’ and no exchanging numbers or anything?’”
Hope cringed. “Oh my God, how awkward.”
“So, she looks up at me, and says, ‘Sorry, Larry, you’re a great guy and all, but I wished you hadn’t lied in your picture.’ And I was all, ‘Me lie? Look at the pot calling the kettle black!’’
“No you didn’t!” Hope said.
“Oh yeah, I did. So then, she looks me dead in the eyes, and in a deep, manly voice says, ‘Sorry, I’m just not into fatties.’ Then she drove away and I was like, What the fuck?”
John and Hope burst out laughing.
Hope looked at Larry. “You are utterly ridiculous.”
“Oh yeah,” John agreed. “He’s full of stories like that — surprising given how good he is at schmoozing. Then other times, he’s like a man-child sent into the world without a clue.”
“Oh, really? I’ll have you know I —”
Suddenly, the carriage rocked to a stop, bouncing them violently against the walls.
Outside they heard the men yelling something in another tongue.
Then bloodcurdling screams.
Hope’s eyes widened as she looked at John and Larry.
“What the hell?” Larry said.
More screams.
John sensed another presence. “The werewolves are back.”
Larry looked at him, “The same ones or different?”
“I don’t know. They’re attacking the men.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. Maybe they really like horses.”
“What are we gonna do?” Larry asked. “We’re stuck in here. If they open it, we’re like a boxed snack for these fuckers.”
Hope raised her hands, palms out in a calming motion. “No. I don’t think they’ll harm us.”
“What?” Larry looked at Hope as if she were crazy.
John realized that they hadn’t told him what happened earlier.
“I don’t think they’re bad. One of them cornered me, and, I dunno, I had this weird feeling from it, this sense of déjà vu or something, and it just let me be.”
“You think you knew it from when you were a kid or something?” Larry asked.
“I don’t know.”
The screaming stopped.
Silence inside the box was deafening. John could hear their heartbeats racing.
Something clawed at the door.
John leaned forward, hands clenched, arcing with electricity, trying to put himself between the beasts and his friends.
The metal lock snapped.
John swallowed as the door creaked open.
An older muscular, heavyset man with messy hair and big gray mutton chops, maybe in his late fifties, stood in front of him, naked.
More men were behind him, some still in wolf form, others between changes.
“Esmee,” the man said, looking at Hope. “It’s true. You’re back.”
Thirty-One
Hope
“Esmee?” she said, sitting confused in the carriage, chained to Larry and John.
The gray-haired man approached, shaking his head, tears in his eyes. It was hard to ignore his lack of clothing, having just shifted from a wolf to man, so she tried to maintain eye contact without being obvious. If the men had any shame in their nudity, they hid it well behind their casual manner while searching Vashkar’s men for supplies.
“It’s been so long. We thought you were dead.”
“You know me?” she asked, feeling stupid.
“You don’t remember?” the old man said. “I’m yer uncle, Gerald.”
“Uncle?”
Uncle?
He reached down, shook the chains, then reached to the cuffs binding her hands together.
“You want that I should remove these?”
“Yes, please.”
As his hands found her cuffs, she noticed the gray hair running up and down his arms and wondered if he was the wolf who had cornered her.
“Are you the wolf that chased me down?”
He squeezed tight, and the cuffs snapped like brittle plastic.
“Yer friends?” he asked her instead of John and Larry, ignoring the question.
“Yes, please.”
He set them free as the other men approached, standing behind Gerald.
“How’d you get into trouble with Vashkar?” Gerald asked.
“It’s a long story,” Hope said. “And I asked you a question. Were you the wolf that chased me? With the pack that killed our friends?”
Gerald looked down. “Yes. I’m sorry. We didn’t know who you were at the time. We heard that someone came through the portal with weapons. We thought you to be with the prince’s forces. Then I saw it was you, little Esmee, all grown up. Why did you come through the portal, and what does Vashkar want with you?”
John spoke. “What do you know about King Zol?”
Gerald spit on the ground. “Fuck him, his prince, and his kingdom.”
John said, “Vashkar was going to turn us over to Zol.”
“Why?” Gerald asked as the other werewolves dressed in the dead men’s clothes and rifled through their saddlebags.
“Because I’m looking to kill his son, Jacob.”
Gerald laughed. “You? Kill the prince? You hear that, men? This little man is gonna kill Prince Jacob. How you planning to do that? You couldn’t even handle Vashkar and his men back there.”
“They kind of had my hands tied, what with Vashkar holding a blade to your niece’s neck.”
“Pfftt,” Gerald said with a wave as if he could’ve taken out all the men before the blade even had a chance to draw blood.
