What the Hell

by Hunter Blain

  “Actually . . .” I started while holding up my wrist.

  “Jesus, another one?” Locke asked as he reached under the coffee table and pulled out a sealed box. Tossing it to me, he sarcastically asked, “I assume you know how to set it up by now?”

  After setting up my new phone, I dared a glance at the Find My app in hopes that maybe Ulric had left my old one on, wherever he was at that moment. Nothing came up. Ulric had learned his lesson. Either that or my new phone cancelled the previous one upon activation.

  Looking at Locke making the screen even bigger, my interest was piqued again like a child getting one of those crystal ball things they used to sell on TV that looked like they were floating.

  Pulling up my phone, I opened my fingers and grabbed the edge of the screen with my free hand, and began stretching. Within moments, my arms were at full wingspan, and I was struggling to get at least an extra inch out of my limitations (fellas, am I right?).

  “You look ridiculous,” Hayley said as she brought a bowl of assorted fruits and sat in the chair on the opposite side of the coffee table from me. Lilith, we were running out of space.

  “Have you found land yet?” Depweg asked Locke.

  “Couple hundred acres north of Houston. About thirty minutes west from I-45.”

  “Good. We’ll want to grow our own food.”

  “Already ahead of you on that. We are going to need livestock to help claim ag-exempt for taxes, anyway.”

  “Perfect. Bring in as much as you can. Cows, chickens, turkeys, goats, and even horses.”

  “Good God, man! Horses?” I blurted, eavesdropping on the conversation.

  “Not to eat, fool,” Depweg answered without taking his eyes off the screen. Kinda glad he didn’t because I was confident that I looked ridiculous while trying to stretch the limits of the screen. After tucking the blanket into a makeshift toga, I had removed my hand at the wrist and left it on the chair as I walked toward my room. The damn thing just kept going!

  “Hey, guys,” I snickered, “Can-can I get a hand?” No one looked up at me. “Eh, screw you guys,” I breathed out as I went back to my chair and picked up my detached hand, placing it atop my wrist and willing it to heal. The celestial belt around my neck began to slip, and I caught it before centering the surprisingly light material again.

  “I thought it was funny!” Magni said from the kitchen. Ludvig nudged him and pointed at the copious amounts of meat he still had on his plate. Magni sighed before shoveling more in. To his credit, the young man was beginning to fill out, though he was a far cry from the mass that Ludvig carried. Hell, not even Depweg matched the Swede in pure musculature. Then again, Lude was several inches taller, and even two or three more than me.

  Something nagged at me and I looked at Ludvig, squinting. He must have sensed something because he lifted his face to lock gazes with me. I just stared.

  “What?” Ludvig asked, a little more harshly than I would have liked.

  “This,” I barked while willing Mjolnir into my right hand. Everyone grew silent and froze in place as they watched the events unfold. Magni stepped away from his master, eyes flicking between us.

  As expected, Ludvig scowled fiercely while pulling his lips back in a snarl.

  “Dude! What’s your deal with this?” I asked, gesturing to the weapon with my free hand while still managing to hold the loosening toga in place. No need to embarrass all the other dudes here.

  Slamming his plate down with a clatter, he walked around the bar and stood a few steps away from me, trying his best to regain control over his emotions.

  “You don’t deserve to wield dat, vampyr. You are not worfy.”

  “Worfy?” It clicked. “Oh, worthy.”

  “Dat’s what I said, foolish man. You are not worthy.” He put emphasis on the words in a show of defiance.

  “Why the hell not?”

  “Dat is a weapon of the gods, not some bloodsucking insect,” Ludvig roared with bulging eyes. He unconsciously squared his body to me, opening and closing his lunch box–sized fists.

  “Is this because you are Swedish?” I asked, leaning backward. Tezla . . . Tezli . . . the Aztec god Tez came to mind, informing me that all the Norse gods had been killed by Satan’s machinations. “Oh,” I breathed while straightening my body and looking at the hammer. “This was Thor’s . . . and he’s dead.”

  Ludvig continued to heave barely restrained breaths in answer.

  Hayley got up and rushed to Ludvig’s side, grabbing his wrist in her hands. At her touch, his eyes seemed to diminish in intensity. He shook his head as if clearing it and turned to stomp off to his room, slamming the door.

  “You see, if we had a mansion, that would be much less awkward,” I said, pointing at the door. Shifting to a whisper, I added, “Plus, he can probably still hear me.”

  Everyone looked at me.

  “To be fair, I did wield a nine-inch nail that still had Christ’s bloo— Wait! I’m not s’posed to talks abouts it.” Deadpan faces regarded me. “But anyway, the moral of the story is, it’s not like I’m prejudiced to weapons of differing pantheons.” Locke and Depweg lowered their heads while continuing to work on the plans.

  “Heh. Plan,” I said to myself as I let Mjolnir fly back to my hip and fade away. “Let me know when the blood arrives.”

  Locke continued quietly chatting with Depweg.

  “Hey, Locke!” The wizard looked up at me. “Let me know when the freaking blood arrives. ’Kay?”

  In answer, he returned to the app, touching some icons on the screen, moving what looked like an underground passage into place.

  I shut the door to my room, needing to be alone with my thoughts.

  Dropping the wool blanket to the ground, I tossed the celestial belt on my bed before grabbing a pair of Batman boxers from my dresser, holding them as I made my way to the shower.

  I turned on the water and then looked in the mirror. I leaned in close and saw there were flakes of dried blood in my thick beard, and my heart immediately ached in a Pavlovian response.

  That poor child.

  Rosy cheeks were drained to alabaster as a life was stolen by a monster.

  My gaze turned away from the glass that hung on the bathroom wall, no longer able to look myself in the eyes.

  Lifting my head to the ceiling, I whispered, “Mom, please tell the girl and her parents I’m sorry. Let . . .” I choked up, “let them know I’ll watch over their baby and make sure he has a good life.”

  Letting out my breath, I stepped into the shower and let the water rush over my face. I used shampoo and conditioner over and over, making sure to free every last drop of the innocent child’s blood from the prison that was my thick beard.

  As I scrubbed, I began letting out an agitated moan while lathering harder and harder, until I screamed with a closed mouth and ripped my beard off. The skin tore free, and I slammed the reminder of my sin on the shower floor. An influx of crimson swirled before disappearing down the drain while my skin healed and a new beard grew.

  I cupped my face in my hands and rested my forehead against the shower wall, letting the water run over my hair and down my back.

  At that moment, I didn’t know if I would ever get to see my parents again. At that moment, I didn’t know if I deserved to.

  After I got out of the shower, I dried off using the already damp towel I had left on the floor.

  “Damn it, past John,” I said to myself. “Always concerned about Numero Uno.”

  Dropping the towel on the floor again for future John to worry about, I willed Mjolnir into existence and pointed it at the hair and skin that rested on the shower floor. With my free hand, I flipped on the vent before flash-frying my removed cells into nothing but smoke.

  I let go of the hammer and froze as I saw myself in the mirror from the corner of my eye.

  I tried to will myself to look at the man in the glass, but I just didn’t have the strength or desire.

  I slipped on my Batman boxers
and walked to my bed. Grabbing the celestial belt, I lifted the false top, tossed in the piece of angelic armor, and climbed into my hidden coffin.

  Closing the lid, I flipped on the coffin lights, grabbed the last book in The Iron Druid Chronicles and picked up right where Atticus’ sidekick, Oberon, was talking up a storm. Lilith, I loved that pupper.

  “Oh shit!” I yelled, popping up and walking to my door. Opening it a crack, I called out, “Tim. Hey, Tim? Where are ya, boy?”

  I could hear some rustling on the couch, and I opened the door wider to see Depweg walking over to me.

  With a hushed tone, he said, “He’s in there with Joey. Keeping him company, ya know?”

  I looked over his shoulder at Joey’s room and nodded, my lips growing tight in reluctant understanding.

  “Poor guy. Been through a lot, hasn’t he?” It was more of a statement, but Depweg nodded appreciatively nonetheless.

  Something crossed Depweg’s features, and he softly said, “Thank you, John, for saving Dawson. He didn’t deserve to be down there and it makes me feel . . . at peace knowing that he’s with his parents now.”

  My heart wanted to crumble in on itself like a neutron star; but I held it together, for my brother.

  Needing to change the subject before the emotions I had trouble hiding on my face gave me away, I said, “Alright. Let me kno—”

  “When the blood arrives. I got it,” Depweg said with a playful punch to my bare chest before turning and walking back toward the couch. Locke had spread the plans out over the entire coffee table now.

  I rubbed at my chest where he had hit me and closed the door. I was alarmed to feel it kind of hurt.

  “Ah, right. Weak as shit right now,” I reminded myself while climbing back into my coffin. A quick glance at the clock on the wall showed it was close to sunrise. I would have to make sure to eat something hefty when I woke up. Maybe a small army or twelve.

  I shut my eyes, begging unconsciousness to clock in early and whisk me away from the pain of reality. My own mind made sure there would be no reprieve just yet as blue eyes atop rosy cheeks peered at me from the darkness of my coffin.

  Chapter 13

  Istood at the edge of a yawning pit, the familiar taste of blood on my lips. Only, it wasn’t the usual euphoria I was accustomed to when the crimson elixir danced on my tongue.

  Bringing a hand up to my mouth, I pulled away scarlet fingers, and understood it had to be my own blood I was tasting.

  I chuckled once, weakly, as my brain fought to stay unalive for just a few moments longer. There was so much riding on me. So many people counting on me.

  An infinite expanse of red eyes peered at me from the gates of Hell, which were slowly swinging open. The doors were made up of countless writhing bodies that moaned in untold agony. Gore-covered skeletons were apparent through torn flesh. Eyeless skulls opened and closed their jaws like a ventriloquist’s dummy, slipping free elongated vowels that rose and fell in a cacophony of maddening sorrow.

  Once the gates were fully open, a light shone down from above, drawing my attention. With a tumbling equilibrium, I slowly lifted my head to see the gates of Heaven opening in answer to the challenge of Hell.

  Where the gates of Hell were all bones, shredded flesh, and gore oozing blood and organs, Heaven’s doors were comprised of gold that was blinding to look at. They stretched forever into the sky, with no ending in sight.

  An army of ivory-clad angels wielded gladius swords that roiled with the blue, red, and white of heavenflame.

  Rumblings from below caused my gaze to drop and see as many demons as there were stars in the sky with weapons bathed in the red, orange, and green of hellfire.

  I coughed up a pink mist as I began sobbing, the image of my father holding my mom tight and promising everything would be alright scalding me. The thought of him lying to her shattered my world as the horns of Hell and trumpets of Heaven declared the final battle for eternity had begun.

  “John! Do something!” I heard Depweg cry out from behind. I turned and saw all my friends staring with wide, terrified eyes. Father Thomes had dropped to his knees and was praying. Magni clutched at Ludvig’s waist, once again the child I had encountered in the graveyard. Ludvig regarded the unfolding battle while placing a large hand on the young boy’s shoulders, setting his chin for what was to come. Joey was holding a trembling Tiny Tim tightly in his arms, squeezing his eyes shut.

  Depweg was yelling at me with hands out to his sides in an obvious gesture that asked why I wasn’t doing anything.

  Thunder rolled as the demons below clashed with the angels above. There were so many that I couldn’t see the sky any longer.

  I dropped to my hands and knees, squeezing the dirt between my fingers as I made helpless fists, knowing this was my fault.

  Somehow, piercing through the din of battle, footsteps crunched in front of where I had begun screaming into the ground. Lifting my head, I gazed up the body of a man wearing angelic armor that was made of obsidian instead of ivory. A flaming gladius coated in hellfire was held at his waist.

  Hoisting my gaze as if it weighed a thousand pounds, I managed to see the face of the man before me.

  “Ulric,” I lamented as a mouthful of blood oozed between my crimson teeth and caked my beard.

  “Bear witness, petulant child, to the destruction you have wrought.”

  “Ulric . . . please . . .”

  In a grandiose tone that started theatrically and ended with maniacal screaming, my maker spilled the last words I would ever hear. “Gaze upon me, boy, for I am the mirror from which your darkest fears are reflected. I am that which you cannot escape, could never escape. I am the Omega to your Alpha, the ending to your beginning. I am the bringer of fate and the key to unlock a new eternity. Fall to your knees and beg for mercy, John, for I have none left to give.”

  He swung his flaming gladius, and everything went black.

  Chapter 14

  Someone was screaming in the darkness, piercing my skull to the point I thought blood was going to start pouring from every orifice in my head.

  Then I realized a terrible truth.

  It was me.

  My eyes shot open and I pushed with trembling hands on my coffin lid as I heaved shallow breaths in a body-wracking gallop.

  “Da!” I cried out while looking around the weird room I was in, not recognizing anything. “DA! HELP ME!”

  A large man wearing only gray sweatpants burst through my door, causing me to shriek in alarm. His muscles were huge and striated as he rushed toward me.

  “NO!” I shouted, crab-walking out of my coffin and tumbling to the floor. Wait . . . my coffin. I was in my room. I was in my room. I was in my room.

  The large man slid on his knees as he grabbed my shoulders and shook me hard.

  “John! John, snap out of it!” a somewhat familiar voice vigorously instructed. I knew that voice.

  I shook my head and looked at the alarmed face of my best friend.

  “De-Depweg?” I asked, trying to slow my breathing as I brought my knees up to my chest and wrapped my arms around them.

  “Yeah, buddy. It’s me. You were having a bad dream. That’s all. Just a bad dream. You’re safe now.”

  I stared him in the eyes for several seconds as I tried to formulate words. With nothing to say, I placed my forehead on my knees and forced slow, deep breaths. My nerves were alight as my body tried to come down from the flight or fight response.

  “Want to talk about it?” Depweg asked.

  Raising my head, I shook it before noticing that my doorway was filled with my friends. Locke was in front next to Joey and Magni. Ludvig filled the doorway just outside the room. At least Warden Broadway wasn’t here to se—

  “Pussy!” I heard her say from somewhere in the living room.

  That brought me back to reality, and I stood up with Depweg helping me to my feet.

  I stood there in my Batman boxers and said to the group, “I-I’m sorry, everyone. T
hat was a really, really bad dream.”

  “Did you dream you had a dick for once?” Hayley called out.

  “Yeah,” I returned loud enough for her to hear clearly. “It was almost as big as yours.”

  “Ha! Doubt it!” she answered.

  Letting it go, I rubbed my eyes and asked Depweg, “What time is it?”

  “Almost sundown.”

  I noticed, as if for the first time, that everyone was in their PJ’s. It had never occurred to me that my friends had changed their sleeping schedules based on my limitations. I felt warmth for them.

  “Your blood came in,” Locke said softly as he approached where Depweg and I stood.

  “Thanks, man. I could use an entire swimming pool’s worth right about now.”

  “What about the blood-out-bag fridge in your coffin?”

  “I never replenished it after . . . well, you know.”

  “Ah, right. After I dropped a boulder on your coffin.”

  “Seriously though, that was pretty damn impressive. Almost had me, too.”

  “Heh, well, I’m glad I failed,” Locke finished with the smile of someone inspecting their own past with crystal clarity.

  We made our way into the living room and I could feel the approach of night as the day waned.

  Locke made his way to the mini fridge, opened the clear door, and tossed me a bag.

  “Warden Broadway helped me formulate a stronger invigoration spell.”

  “Damn right I did,” Hayley said from my chair.

  Still in my boxers, I made it a point to sit on Hayley’s thick legs while smiling at her wryly and sticking a blooddagger into the top of the bag I was holding. In a matter of moments, it was sucked dry, and Warden Broadway rolled her eyes and got to her feet, pushing me off as she did. I stood and let her move to the couch, and sat happily in my chair.

  Evening swallowed the remainder of the day, and I felt my power rush into me, multiplied by the bag I had consumed.

  “Oh . . . my . . . Lilith,” I drawled as I shut my eyes and let the energy flow through me.

  “Mm-hmm,” Hayley said, crossing her arms at the confirmation of her epic handiwork.