by Hunter Blain
“Get out of here!” I bellowed angrily. “Someone has an important lesson to learn.”
As if on cue, a twelve-foot-tall monster leaped out of the hole I had created, dragging its huge claws down the tree to slow its descent.
A part of me begged to go easy on my best friend, while another part—my pride—said it would be good for Depweg to learn who the real alpha was.
Letting go of the tree, Depweg fell the rest of the way in an attempt to land directly on top of me.
As he descended like a meteor, I did something he wasn’t expecting. I raised my arms out to my sides...and closed my eyes.
The giant wolf crashed into me, crumpling my body at the knees and waist as I bent over backward in a way that not even a faerie gymnast could replicate.
My back slammed into the ground, sending up splinters from Yggdrasil as I crunched my way through, the wolf’s enormous feet pushing on my chest.
The armor—which now second-guessed its stance on Depweg as friend or foe—prevented my bones from breaking completely, but the impact had still done damage. I felt a jolt of white-hot fire shoot from my neck where it broke from the whiplash, and I heard the bones shattering with a sickening series of rapid-fire pops in my ear. The good news was that the rest of my body didn’t hurt.
The wolf lifted himself out of the three-foot hole I had created with my upper body, and without pause, turned to grab my legs.
With a force that no other supe could possibly replicate, the monster swung me in an arc to slam into an unmarred section of wood, creating a brand-new imprint of a disfigured John.
The armor infused my preternatural healing, and my vertebrae began popping back into place, sending agonizing pins and needles down my entire body.
The nausea in my stomach suggested I might be really, really hurt. It was hard to tell, as my entire body felt like a giant pulsing mass of pain. You know when you hit your pinky toe on the bed frame or coffee table with enough force that you could have played in the World Cup of Soccer (or Football for those across the pond), and then the rest of the foot begins to pulse and grow warm? It felt like that, but with all the injuries reaching out to one another through healthy flesh and creating a whole-body inflammation that made me dizzy.
The wolf grabbed me around the waist, his hand almost entirely wrapping around it, and lifted me to face him.
With blood pouring from my nose and mouth, and half my face swelling to push against the armor, I smiled at Depweg. He needed to learn this lesson.
The wolf tilted his head in rage, his yellow eyes starting to tinge red, and he threw me against the castle walls.
I landed with enough force that I created a bone-shattering indentation, as if the dense wood had been nothing more than cheap drywall.
I hit my head again, hard, and welcomed the mass of bugs that swam in my vision as old friends. I really should start naming them. You’ll be Cameron. And you’ll be a fun name, how about Kimbra? And you, you little cutie-pie, you’ll be Shayne; but not with the normal spelling. No, we’ll add the Y in just to make sure no one mispronounces it.
A roar of wrath broke me from my stupor, and I lifted a stiff neck that cracked with every inch it moved to see the furious wolf striding over to me.
His fingers—resembling rebar tipped with the claws of a carnivorous dinosaur—reached through the wood around me and yanked me out.
My celestially charged preternatural abilities were having trouble keeping up with the healing demands as the monster repeatedly broke most of the bones in my body over and over again. I was honestly impressed my healing factor wasn’t breaking up with me via a text message that said, “Fuck you. I’m leaving with Wolverine, who knows how to treat a superpower. Oh, and I’m keeping the dog.” Heh, joke was on him. If anyone was as hard, if not harder, on their healing as me, it was either Deadpool or Wolvy.
The wolf brought me up to his massive, snarling snout, revealing lethal fangs and a growl that sounded like distant thunder.
“Consequences,” I croaked as the monster began squeezing my hips, turning my pelvis into dust. There might have been a miscalculation on my part because I knew Depweg had been ultrastrong in his feral form, but Jesus Tapdancing Christ, he was about to send my insides spewing out through my mouth and/or asshole like a tube of overfilled toothpaste under a monster truck tire.
The red-tinged eyes faded to just yellow for an instant before the crimson surged back with a vengeance and the beast roared in my face. I thought my skin was going to peel off from the sheer force of his escaping breath. Then he reached his other hand under my armpits, lifted me above his head, and tore me in half.
With a moment of, “Welp...shit...” I understood at a fundamental level that my celestial armor had just been separated.
I was in Faerie with an incomplete armor, which meant I was mortal...and torn in half.
27
Unlike with most my injuries, I didn’t feel or hear anything. Instead, a wall of blackness slammed over my consciousness, and I was left floating in the abyss of absolute nothingness.
I didn’t fight it. Knowing I had zero power to heal myself now, I just metaphorically closed my eyes and let whatever was going to come...come. A part of me even wanted to prove the five-year prophecy wrong, though I knew it was stupid to think that way. Stupid and dangerous.
With a frustrated groan, I forced my eyes open, and saw a naked Depweg slapping my face with unbridled panic in his eyes.
I saw him shouting something to someone I couldn’t see. For some reason, I couldn’t hear anything but a loud, constant ringing that almost sounded like the feedback from a miswired speaker.
Depweg returned his frantic attention to me, and I could see he kept mouthing something that looked like, “Oh my God.”
Going on instinct, my friend brought his wrist up to his mouth and, with dull teeth, bit a chunk of his own flesh out. Blood welled and began streaming down his muscular forearm as he brought the wound over my gaping mouth.
I tried to laugh, but didn’t have the strength, so instead, I simply tried moving my head back and forth to get him to stop.
Depweg’s face scrunched in terrified confusion, and he forced his open wrist against my lips, making sure I wouldn’t miss a drop of blood.
I tried to shake my head again, and when I didn’t try to drink or swallow, Depweg reluctantly pulled his arm away from me.
Closing my mouth, I spit the blood out in a bubble that oozed down the side of my face.
My friend was shaking his head trying to understand, prompting me to mouth, “Mor...tal...”
He saw my words, but it took a few seconds for him to process what I had said. Then a look of realization dawned on him as his features morphed from confusion to helpless worry, as if watching someone take their last breaths and unable to do anything to stop it, no matter how much he wanted to.
Something blotted out the sun and I had to slightly tilt my head to see a man standing over me. His features were obscured by shadows as the light spilling in from around his outline blinded me.
As he spoke, I understood who it was.
“Bathe...in the tar pits of sin...” Ulric hissed with a malevolent smile in his voice as he crouched down. As his body moved closer, he blocked more of the sun, and I saw his stupid shark’s grin beaming at me.
“Fuck...you...” I tried to counter, but only succeeded in sending more bubbles of blood pouring out of my mouth. It worried me that I didn’t think the crimson liquid belonged to Depweg anymore.
Ulric’s smile widened into an almost Cheshire grin before something slammed into my lower half and I shut my eyes as I tried to scream in pain.
A rush of power flooded my essence, and my preternatural healing and celestial armor put on their hard hats and nodded at one another before getting to work with an accompanying eighties montage to the tune of “Jitterbug.”
My spine connected first, and I wished it hadn’t. After the spinal column was reattached, I could feel every nerve in my
abdomen growing, resulting in a scream that would have caused avalanches at any nearby snow-covered range.
Feeling immediately ravenous, I snatched at Depweg’s still bleeding arm and wrenched it to my face, shoving my fangs into his flesh. He inhaled sharply and gritted his teeth, but let me begin draining his powerful life essence in order to save my life...and, consequently, his own.
I drank deeply, feeling his powerful blood course through my body and heal my countless injuries.
Glowing crimson eyes stared at the fool who had almost caused the apocalypse.
It was my fault, too, I said to myself, and I knew I was right.
With frustration, I threw Depweg’s arm to the side, and I watched as he fell back from his haunches to land on his butt. His skin had paled noticeably.
Pushing myself up on my elbows, I saw Taylor was intently holding my lower half, making sure it grew back correctly. The look on his face was more of concentration than concern.
After what felt like several agonizing minutes, the healing was over, and I lay still, taking heaving breaths. My armor tapped on my shoulder and reminded me that it had more than enough energy left from the battle with Michael on Mars where I had inhaled a fraction of a fraction of the cosmic blast. I didn’t need to drink my friends’ blood in order to heal. What worried me was that I didn’t know if I had done so on instinct, or as a form of punishment.
I lifted the back of my hand to rest across my face, willing the armor to vanish, and did my best not to cry. I didn’t know if it was because I had almost died and that was a gaping mental wound added to the collection that would never heal, or if it was because my best friend had tried to kill me. Maybe it was seeing Ulric and his message that really creeped me out. Perhaps it was everything. The mind could only take so much trauma before snapping.
I inhaled for a six count, held it for three, and then let out on a six count, focusing on calming the raging, sloshing storm in my mind. A large part of me wanted to rip Depweg’s head off for being so stupid and not maintaining control, but that would serve as an ironic counter to the lesson he needed to learn.
“John, are you alright?” Taylor asked as he kneeled next to me, placing a hand on my chest.
“Did...did he...ruin my clothes?” I asked, forcing humor into the situation, but also curious.
I moved my hand from over my eyes to see Taylor scanning my body.
“Your coat is fine, as is to be expected. But your pants are torn and your shirt is heavily stained and stretched. There are a few holes in it as well.”
“Don’t suppose...you made that new set yet, did ya, buddy?” I asked, bringing my hands up to my face and rubbing at my blood-soaked skin.
“Actually, I finished just this morning. And this time, the material has a matte finish instead of being silken in appearance.”
“Thanks, Taylor. You’re kinda awesome,” I admitted as I ripped my T-shirt off without removing my coat. Using the material as a rag, I wiped as much blood from my face and beard as I could.
Movement caught my eye after I dropped the shirt on the ground next to me, and I pushed myself up to a seated position to see Depweg being escorted by a troll and a tall elf. My friend had his massive arms around both their shoulders as they carried most of his weight.
“Shit,” I mouthed to myself, realizing I had almost drained him to the point of death.
“If I may inquire, did you mean to let the wolf devastate your body?”
“It...it was a lesson he needed to learn,” I replied with a sigh, realizing I had personally failed the very lesson I had attempted to teach.
“I see,” Taylor said nodding before lifting his gaze to land on Depweg. “I would say he passed. The feral wolf inside was faced and conquered.”
“Yeah, but after almost killing me. That’s where the problem is. And before you say anything, I realize I almost did the same freaking thing. But this isn’t about me.”
“Of course it isn’t,” King TalGoid of the Seelie Court said with a deadpan face as he regarded me.
“Okay, look. I know I have a lot more to learn, but at least I’m actively trying to. It took me almost dying to lose control when I was drinking him. For him,” I gestured with my bearded chin matted with blood, “it only took words.”
“Where they simply words?” Taylor asked, narrowing his eyes in such a way as to almost be imperceptible.
I let his meaning do an interpretive dance inside my brain, letting all the thoughts and feelings flow into my mind. He was right...damnit.
“No,” I admitted through gritted teeth. “I lied to him about Dawson because I thought it was the right thing to do. Father Thomes was right.”
A breeze blew over us as I climbed to my feet, Taylor helping me up. I reached down and had to hold onto my pants to prevent them from falling to my ankles. I noticed one of my boots was missing.
“May I ask what the priest said?”
With a shrug, I exhaled, “He said the lie I carried in my heart would poison my soul, or something like that.”
“Ah, I see. Wise words indeed.”
I saw my boot, and hobbled with uneven steps to pick it up. Though they were made for working-class men and women that did manual labor, the material was scuffed and scratched in several places, prompting a scowl from me.
With a tight-lipped shake of my head and an accompanying forceful exhale through my nose, I lifted my foot and stuck it in my boot, almost dropping my pants as I did.
With one hand holding one of the few remaining belt loops, I motioned for Taylor to lead the way into the castle.
He stared at me for a moment, assessing me with Fae eyes that held unfathomable wisdom after thousands of years of existence.
“We are all beasts, John, that hunger from inside. There are those of us whose beasts are more determined and wilder than others, refusing to be broken and tamed.”
My mind flashed to wild stallions that were used to roaming free being forced to endure man’s will.
“I...I think I see where you’re going...” I admitted. “Depweg’s predator self might be much harder to control than mine was.”
“Was?” Taylor asked, lowering his head slightly to emphasize the unsaid meaning.
“Yeah, ah, Baleius is gone,” I vaguely elaborated, leaving out unnecessary details.
“I don’t think you heard my question.” Then the king of the Seelie turned and gracefully walked to his castle.
After a moment of thinking on his words, I settled on a portion of my mind “feeling” what he had meant rather than trying to dissect it into a coherent thought. I still had a PS inside of me...as did we all.
“We are all beasts that hunger from inside,” I whispered as I nodded a few times and then started walking after Taylor.
I only hoped my best friend—my brother—had gained that much more strength today with which to contain his internal monster.
28
“Whoa,” I said as I ran my hands down the black Fae clothes that doubled as armor. Turning in the mirror, I was doubly impressed with how difficult it was to see any definable detail.
“Mortals call it vantablack. It’s a material that absorbs more than 99 percent of all light, reflecting less than a tenth of a percent back.”
“Which means?” I asked as I continued to stare at my bitchin’ clothes.
“Mortals will have a harder time seeing you, especially at night. Actually, supes as well, unless they have enhanced sight.”
“So ogres will have a hard time seeing me, annnnnd that’s about it, right?”
“More than just ogres, dear John. For example, could there be a mostly mortal group of supes on Midworld that do not have enhanced eyesight?”
I looked in the mirror at him, noticing he had an expectant look on his face. He was dangling something right in front of me that I simply wasn’t catching.
“Um...”
“Warloc—”
“Warlocks!” I interrupted quickly. “I knew that. Was just about to sa
y that, actually.”
“I’m sure that you were.”
“If only my coat was made of the stuff too,” I thought aloud.
Taylor picked up the trench, which I had draped over a chair, and inspected it.
“I’m quite confident that I could make one for you,” he said, running his hands over the material. He stopped at the crosses and inspected them closely with a curious expression.
“No, that’s fine. Da made it for me and kinda means a lot. Like, a whole lot.”
“Understandable,” he said, extending the trench coat out to me.
I grabbed it and slid it on, admiring my all-black ensemble. The boots managed to look like my Doc Martens, but they didn’t have the signature yellow stitching, and I was kind of bummed about that.
“How’s Depweg?”
“Resting. We gave him a hearty meal before he returned to his chambers. The wound on his arm was mostly healed before he finished eating an entire deer leg.”
“Yeah, that sounds like him. I think shifting to something as big as his feral form makes him really hungry.”
“That would stand to reason.”
“Can I...see him?” I asked hesitantly.
“As I said, he is resting. Do you not feel it best to let him slumber and recuperate?”
“Yeah,” I replied, letting my gaze drop to the floor while grabbing my hips. “I guess you’re right.”
“Magni would like to see you, however.”
I perked up at that, and the surprise must have been evident on my face.
“Follow me,” Taylor said with a grin as he led me out of the tailor’s room. Heh, Taylor’s tailor.
“What was that?” Taylor asked, turning his face toward me as he walked.
“Hmm?”
“You laughed and mumbled something. Thought I perhaps heard my name.”
“Oh, no...was...thinking of something else.”
Not believing me but not seeing a reason to push the issue, Taylor stopped at a door and knocked.
“Come in,” a muffled voice announced.
