by VK Fox
Joyeuse flared nuclear white when Everest finished the binding. Dahl jolted fully back to himself, ducking as Everest slammed the blade through the silver-laced air and directly into the Crone’s stolen eye. Dahl’s name blazed from his flesh while Joyeuse shattered, the shock wave throwing Jane to the ground and flinging Everest and Dahl back against the wall of the circle, hitting hard before Ian, one hand still on the ring of light, gathered them under him like a papa bear.
In the stunning white Jane tried to blink the image from her vision. The Crone was on the ground, clawing her jelly-streaked cheeks. With a two-tone shriek, she tore at the ruined eyeball, scraping it from her face as her single eye jittered in the socket.
Look away, look away, God help me. Jane was cowering in a futile bid to block out the horror show when the Crone’s screams were cut by a voice like soaked velvet.
“Hey, Mama.” Zack Slaughter stood in the open door, ivory and fire against the night, lit from beneath by the light of the circle, standing like a prima donna on the stage. The theatrics almost covered his sweaty clothes, waxen skin, and the fact that his come hither posture was achieved by wedging his body into the doorframe. His head lolled to the side, exposing his throat. “You’ve been eyeing me for so long, don’t tell me it didn’t mean something.” At the tail end of his purring speech he started to wheeze, and then he doubled over, clutching at his stomach, knees on the ground and hacking up bloody green phlegm onto the floor.
“You give yourself to me freely?” The Crone’s voice was a cackle from the shadows.
“Indubitably.”
“Oh, you poor dear!” The Crone was back on her feet, gathering him into her boney arms in an instant, everyone else in the room forgotten. “You’re sick!” She held him like a perverse Piata, murmuring soothing words into his bed head.
Megan strode through the doorway, her face set in stone. She crouched beside Jane, voice tight and urgent. “Where’s the mirror?”
“What?” Jane’s throat was raw with screaming and stomach acid. “What do you mean? What’s Zack doing?”
Megan pursed her lips. “Look, we don’t have a lot of time.”
Jane shook her head, fear for Zack and fear of betrayal mixing in a sickening cocktail in her stomach.
Megan responded through clenched teeth. “He’s dying. He said it didn’t matter anymore—anything she can do to him, he’s only got a few more hours—” Megan choked on the words and carefully smoothed her face again. “Anyway, he says that if we give her what she wants, it’ll distract her and we have a shot at sending her back.” Megan pulled out her rainbow plastic tape recorder. “We have the copy of Everest playing to open the gate—”
Jane’s guts churned with nausea. “Seriously, Megan, what the shit?”
“Insurance. You can freak out later. Right now we have a job to do.”
Blue was already scrambling to the back of the room and ripping the sheet off Mr. Mirror as the Crone murmured sweet nothings into Zack’s copper hair. “My dearest boy, Mummy will take care of everything. You don’t need to burn and tremble.” She pressed the skin of her smooth face to his left temple. The copper bright lock, his left eyelashes, and tip of his eyebrow bleached white. The change was instant: his body became stronger, breathing easy. The Crone tightened her grip. “There you are, child. All better. Now we have happy years ahead of us.” Zack squeezed his eyes closed and chuckled without any warmth or joy. More like sobbing. More like giving up.
Unacceptable. This could not be the world Jane lived in—a world where everyone tried their hardest but people like Sister Mary died in silence while heinous asshats abducted young men to abuse. Well, if there wasn’t anyone else able to stand up to this extranatural fuckwad traipsing all over their reality, then Jane could hold the line. She planted her feet and balled her fists, one scraped raw and red, the other dripping with her own blood.
Sparks flashed and glass fell from the bulbs along the wall, rattling debris punctuated by Beth and Ida’s wails. Jane surged forward as Megan catapulted the distance, brandishing the tape recorder like a crucifix and punching play. Everest’s fiddle spilled out, and the surface of the mirror shimmered and blushed, a window to the bruised desert beyond.
Toe to toe with the Crone, Jane froze, inches away from her smooth visage, Zack locked in her arms between them. Jane’s nose ran red, and her head pounded like an impact hammer. Everything they’d worked for, sacrificed for, bled and died for, hinged on this. Jane murmured a prayer and focused on her link to Saint Philomena. Her hands glowed blue-white, and she grabbed the Crone by her nothing face.
“This is my family, and you have no hold over them!” Jane screamed as she jammed her thumb into the single gray eye-popping it like a weak jello shot. “NOW GET OUT!”
Magic swelled between them and a scorching wind whipped through the room, sucking out the air like water down a drain. The Crone began to crumble into sand, whipped inexorably through the mirror. Megan braced the back of the shaking golem, one foot on the barrier circle, her entire plushie weight a dead stop against the force ripping across the room. The Crone’s arms were the last to dissolve. Hovering phantasmally in the air, rocking Zack’s lanky body. Everest dashed forward, grabbing him and dragging him away while Jane sank to the floor, empty and numb, as the last of the red dust cleared. A sad, lumpy mask of skin and two ruined eyeballs lay on the ground near Jane’s knee: all that was left of Allison Card.
Jane’s fingers were cold and stupid. She fumbled with her shirt, searching for a wound, but blood-soggy fabric kept getting tangled. After a few seconds, she gave up and leaned against the cool concrete floor. She tried to sing for the babies, but her voice was gurgly and weak and they kept wailing. Oh well, Ian would come and rock them soon.
Ian and Zack were by her side, laying her out—hands assessing, sharp green and deep brown eyes climbing over her. Something inside her wasn’t right, but she could sleep it off. Zack pressed hard against Jane’s chest and, sweet Jesus, that hurt.
“Fucking asshole,” Jane dribbled.
Zack’s grin was edged. “Well, shoot, you have to live now. Those are shit last words.” In her peripheral vision, Zack clamped Sister Mary’s black and white habit bandanna over her chest while Ian checked her limbs.
“Mary?” Jane’s voice was squeaking and broken. Ian squeezed her hand and bowed his head.
“Right here, Jane.” Sister Mary’s no-nonsense voice eased a terrible agony in Jane’s heart. “It’s gonna be okay. Just breathe through it.”
“Okay.” Jane’s tears were running into her ears and tickled, but she couldn’t turn her neck to reposition.
“I’ll have gone when you wake, but I’ll be praying for you. Now and always.”
“Okay.” Jane closed her eyes and haziness washed in.
Chapter Twenty-Eight
“Jane? Jane?” Ian’s voice was gentle, nudging her out of sleep.
Jane grunted and mumbled before the whole nightmare scene thundered back into her head and she struggled to sit.
“Hey, easy there. You’re safe.” Ian was next to her on the edge of the mattress. The room was unfamiliar, but at least it wasn’t a hospital. The god-man-sized bed where she rested was piled with pillows and cozy sheets. Against the wall, a few moving boxes were labeled with Dahl’s flowing script: bedroom knick-knacks, books, Jane’s summer clothes. Out the window, a spectacular view of the Las Vegas mountains was buttered with evening light.
“Babies?” Jane’s mouth tasted like something had died in it, sticky and rank. Ian nudged a mug with a straw her way.
“They’re fine. So sweet and happy. When I put them to bed, they hug each other, and they’ve started smiling.”
The water tasted cloying, and it hurt when she swallowed. “How long have I been out?”
“Seven weeks. Not too bad for someone who banished an extranatural Traveler from reality.”
Seven weeks. Jane’s mind spun. What had changed in the world in the past seven weeks? “Are you ok
ay?”
“I am. Dahl, Everest, and Blue have been very kind. Someone’s been over every day to help with the babies and get us settled. After we left Camp Nowhere, we were able to gather some things from our house since Sana Baba’s not after us anymore. I thought it would be best if we were here, by our family, for a while. We can talk about a more permanent—”
“Whoa, there. Rewind. Hang on.” Jane tried to swallow again. “I mean, when I found you, that extranatural jizzbag was trying to finish anchoring herself to our reality by… by…”
“Trying to rape me.” Ian’s voice was even, but not entirely calm. Jane took his hand and didn’t look away. “She didn’t get far, Jane, but it was very frightening. Beth protected me.” Ian choked on the words before clearing his throat and continuing. “She somehow knew I was in trouble and called her wolf. After that, the Crone knocked me out—she was trying to kill me, but I’m like a bad penny.”
“Hard to kill?”
Ian chuckled. “Exactly.”
Jane threw her arms around him and breathed in his smell: cedar and spices. “Are you really okay? Do you need to talk to someone?”
“Dahl and I both are. Everest knew a good therapist in the area. It’s helping.”
“I’m glad. That’s really brave of you. Again.” She sat wrapped up in the hug for minutes, until the strength to ask the next question solidified. “How is everybody?” The jumble of sadness and images in Jane’s head were refusing to sort themselves into a meaningful order.
“Your family, Megan, Blue, Alma, Frost, and Fitz are all well. Dahl needs a new arm, again, and Everest is learning to live with lasting side effects, but they are rebuilding together. It’s wonderful to see. Joyeuse was broken, but Everest collected the pieces and is working on making an ossuary golem for him. Zack is cured.” Ian prompted her to drink more. “It’s no small thing.”
“Sister Mary?” Jane knew the answer, but she needed to hear it.
Ian’s voice was rough with sadness. “We collected what we could of her remains for the sisters to lay to rest in their convent cemetery. They asked for her bandanna to be returned as well. They’re calling it a healing relic.” He bowed his head. “She was an old friend, Jane. A true friend.”
“I know.” Jane reached out for his hand as her memory rebelled against the image of Zack clamping the bandanna to her chest and Sister Mary’s voice in her ears. “Why are they calling her bandanna a relic?”
A shadow crossed Ian’s face. “When you used your magic, you suffered your side effect: a phantom arrow wound. This one was in your heart.” Ian’s voice was soft. “It should have been fatal, but when Zack used Sister Mary’s bandanna to try and stop the bleeding, the hole disappeared. It saved your life.”
At that moment, Jane couldn’t face crying, so she nodded stiffly and picked a safer track. “What about reality? The thinning of the barrier?”
Ian grinned. “It’s good news. When you’re feeling up to it, I can give you the whole story.”
“What about me?” Exhaustion was setting in, and the last word cracked on the way out. “Am I still poking holes or whatever?”
Ian smoothed her hair and his eyes sparkled. “One link to a person has never been a problem, Jane. Good thinking, having twins.”
Jane mirrored Ian’s grin. “Yeah, it was, wasn’t it? Can I see them now?”
“Of course. I’ll bring them in.” Ian kissed her forehead, and then her lips. Jane’s arms around his neck were shaky and weak, but she tried to hold him still—to keep him from pulling back. When she finally collapsed back on the pillow mountain, Ian was looking at her with smokey eyes.
“I love you.” Jane squeaked out, a few tears escaping to tickle her chin.
“I love you too, sweet girl. I’ve been looking forward to today—the first day of the rest of our lives.”
Jane was drifting. “We should talk about Beth and Ida… you know, since they are magical and all.”
“We should.” Ian kissed her cheek. “How about we tackle that tomorrow?”
The first time Jane got out of bed was to attend her daughters’ baptism at Saint Gabriel’s Catholic Church. Before the ceremony, Ian had pulled the priest aside and asked to be included. When the older man inquired why Ian wanted to be baptized, he simply said, “my friend showed me the way.”
A brief discussion to confirm Ian’s religious knowledge outstripped most cradle Catholics, and he was lined up next to the baptismal font to be splashed and anointed. Three candles were lit. Promises made. Somewhere a sun-kissed nun smiled.
After the ceremony, everyone gathered in the community room for snacks and cake, and Dahl joked that apparently even death couldn’t stop Sister Mary from getting the last word. Ian kissed the top of his head and Jane inspected his new “Survivor” tattoo: script scrawled over layers of crisscrossed scars on his left arm. Jane bit her lip. The artist had accentuated the scarring instead of covering it, outlining here, shading there. That had to be intentional, right? Dahl was wearing short sleeves, so he wasn’t trying to cover up.
“Not a binding.” Dahl fidgeted under her attention. “Just a message. All words have some power. Maybe someone will see it and... I don’t know...” He shrugged, shoving his hands in his pockets and going slightly pink.
Jane hugged him, “Find strength for their own battle?”
“Something like that.” Dahl squeezed her back. “And you’re not off the hook. All your whining about your lack of training… we’re walking distance from your house. You’ve no excuse.”
“Oh no. Nonononono. I’m retired. Babies. Husband.”
Dahl lifted an eyebrow and glanced to Everest and Fitz before releasing her and looking pointedly back. “Slacker. Have you even seen what you’ve started?”
“Um, Ian said something about an online story group? It didn’t sound like the kind of thing I need to put more hours in on.”
Dahl rolled his eyes in mimicry of Jane’s go-to expression. “Well, too bad for your lazy tendencies that you’re called to greatness, not comfort. Come on.”
Dahl dragged Jane to a side office and bent over a computer. The modem squealed as Dahl tapped away one-handed and Jane glanced back to the gathering room.
“Can’t this wait?”
“No. You did this—you should see what your idea has spawned.”
As he signed onto the First Alert message boards, a huge grin split Jane’s face.
Vigilante234: Welcome new members—join us in saving the world!
Over five thousand stories and growing by the minute. Post yours at www.wikieverafter.com.
InformedCitizen3: The more we know, the safer we are. Tell your friends. Be part of the solution.
Reporter511: New members checking in from Singapore and France, Russia, and Ghana. We’ve gone global, kiddies! Keep posting!
“They did good.” Jane’s cheeks hurt from grinning.
“They did.” Dahl was clicking through the forum threads, loading a new conversation. “There’s more.”
Su1cideK1ng: Emergency Response Thread. Post monster attacks and urgent matters here. Agents will respond as quickly as possible.
Reporter511: Local news picked up a cryptid outside of New Orleans. Possibly connected to a series of kidnappings. Help requested!
1nTh3No: Mysterious lights in the Great Dismal Swamp lead hikers to danger. One dead, two missing. Please send someone ASAP.
Vigilante234: Woman claims living doll is spying on her/ harassing her. Possible golemancy misuse? Can you check this out, Bunnyman?
BunnyMan: Thank you, Vigilante. Investigating.
Jane burst out laughing. “Tell me Bunnyman is Everest’s handle?”
Dahl rubbed the back of his neck. “I may have made his account.”
“How are you covering all of this?” Jane’s eyes skipped over page after page of posts.
“Suboptimally.” Dahl’s voice was breezy but his shoulders tensed. “Most of the posts are inaccurate or dead ends, but even with a small perc
entage that represent real threats, we’re swamped. The Slaughters, Frost, and Palahniuk are in the field right now. Blue, Everest, Ian, and I are working admin and running home base support. We are able to kick some of these over to Sana Baba, since Carpaux got promoted and Everest’s been able to rebuild his professional contacts there, and the Sisters of Perpetual Help are shouldering the lion’s share, but even so, there’s a lot of work left over. Miles to go before we sleep.”
“If you can’t feed a hundred men, feed one.”
“Pretty sure that’s not how Stopping by the Woods on a Snowy Evening ends.”
Jane grinned. “Nope, but Mother Teresa seemed to fit the bill.” Dahl was logging out and powering down the computer. Jane’s teasing drained away and her palms were sweaty. “Ian said the barrier was fixed.”
“It is.” Dahl turned to face her, hand gently squeezing her shoulder. “That was the tipping point. No more Travelers, no more holes, no more reality coming apart. Now we have clean-up duty. It’s a big job, but one we can handle. Ian has his dreaming back. Everest has healed what he can and is able to use magic in a careful, limited way. We have four good agents working the issue, and we have allies to fill the gaps. I’d be lying if I said we didn’t need your help, though.” Dahl let go of her shoulder and ruffled her hair. “Think about it, Saint Jane. We can meet on Monday and I’ll show you the job.”
Jane scrunched her nose and huffed back out to the community room, away from Dahl’s shit-eating, self-assured grin. Back in the cheerful, family-filled space, Dahl joined Everest with a kiss on his cheek and an arm around his waist. Ian was showing Fitz how to toss peanuts in the air and catch them in his mouth. Fitz was about twenty percent for accuracy. Ian encouraged him to practice at home. Dahl and Everest stood by, watching the growing mess, having a silent mutual aneurysm. After the peanut bowl was empty, Dahl swept a shocking number off the floor under a steady stream of quiet profanity while Jane and her mom stifled giggles. The room was warm, full, and Jane’s heart was going to burst.
