The Preternatural Chronicles: Books 0-3

by Hunter Blain

  “Holy…shit…” I said with eyes trying to bulge out of my skull. There was a squad of armor-clad angels stomping their way through the grounds, their heads scanning left to right.

  Depweg chimed in, “Good. They don’t know John’s exact location.”

  “You mean our location, right? Buddy?” I asked hesitantly. “Pal?”

  Depweg’s hands went up in a halting gesture, “We didn’t kill an angel there, bud.”

  My mouth hung open in surprise.

  “But of course we got your back,” he reassured me.

  I relaxed visibly.

  “As long as you don’t do anything else stupid.” Depweg’s index finger extended my way, accusingly. “Now, they don’t know where we are, so let’s just lie low.”

  My life was clearly a made-for-TV movie because, right as Depweg finished his statement, the angels stopped in front of our mausoleum. One of them pointed at the ground, which had footprints in the dirt. In tandem, Da’s and Depweg’s heads swung slowly my way.

  “I’ve, ah, been meaning to plant more grass there,” I said sheepishly. Still synced, both heads shook in amazed disappointment.

  Anger rose in my chest, and my hands clenched into fists. “You know what?” I spat. “Fuck this. Let’s go have a conversation with them.” As I spoke, bloodswords that were infused with rage extended from my fists. They were horrific, jagged manifestations, as if made from flint, with sweeping sections of serrated teeth.

  I turned to face the door and…nothing. I couldn’t step forward. I exerted myself like a woman giving birth, or so I assumed from the movies, and only succeeded in making a high-pitched squeal.

  “Lily!” I shouted once it hit me.

  Depweg and Da shared a chuckle from behind me. This only enraged me further. After a few more non-hilarious attempts to move forward, I sighed and let the bloodswords retract.

  “Giving up, are we?” Depweg chided.

  “Uh-oh…don’t…” Da started, but it was too late. I turned around with a smooth, clear expression; a mischievous smile appeared at the corners of my mouth.

  “Oh dear,” Da said, placing his face in his hands. “John, please don’t. They probably just want to talk.” He didn’t even bother to look at me, as he knew it would do no good. “If they wanted to kill you, they wouldn’t make it so obvious.”

  I stormed past them both toward the hidden exit in my room. As I did, I said over my shoulder, “Guess I’ll go for a walk. But, gotta make sure I use the secret exit so I don’t have to fight any punk-ass angels. Hope they don’t find me.”

  “Stop,” a silky voice commanded.

  “Oh, thank God,” Da said. “Please stop him from making things worse.”

  “Where are you going, lover?” Lily asked.

  “Fuck,” I whispered to myself.

  “Maybe later. But first, you have guests. Play nice and maybe you’ll survive the night.”

  There was a knock on the door. It wasn’t overly aggressive, but neither was it meek. “Restrained” came to mind.

  Everyone looked at each other curiously. All except Lily, who seemed giddy with excitement.

  “Depweg, John, do not mention my presence to your guests. I am only here to observe.” As she spoke, her visage disintegrated like she was made out of sand in the wind.

  The door sounded again.

  “Uh, I’d also appreciate the same courtesy,” Da said before winking out of this plane.

  “Fairies, man, am I right?” I said over my shoulder to Depweg as I approached the iron door. “Who is it?” I asked in my old lady voice.

  “The Archangel Gabriel,” a strong, reverberating voice said through the door. “I only wish to converse with the abomination.”

  Opening the door, I was greeted by a giant, armor-clad angel. Only one though. His helmet was tucked into the crook of one arm, letting long golden locks fall to his shoulders. He looked like a fucking model.

  “May I enter?” Gabriel asked with surprising politeness. Caught off guard, I moved to the side, gesturing my permission. He was considerably bigger than the doorframe, and I was humorously curious about how he would squeeze through. Without hesitation, he stepped forward. White smoke, or maybe it was mist, billowed off of him, and his massive frame shrank to normal man size, complete with a charcoal gray suit and black tie.

  “Whoa. Neat trick, Gabe,” I said.

  “Thanks, Jonathan,” he remarked with a smirk.

  “It’s just John,” I responded, rolling my eyes in the usual fashion.

  “I know.” The smirk had grown into a full-blown smile. Damn him and his shiny shoes. “It’s Gabriel, and I’m here to deliver a message.”

  “Last winged dude with a flaming sword wasn’t too keen on niceties with his message,” I said, crossing my arms. Doubt was written all over my face, like I was waiting for the salesman to tell me the catch.

  “A message of peace, of course,” Gabriel said with an award-winning smile still on his face. It was surprisingly disarming. I found myself liking him. “I am, of course, the angelic messenger.”

  As he made his way further into my home, he stopped and closed his eyes. His head tilted upward, and I heard him sniff the air with visible pleasure. He exhaled in a soundless moan as a knowing grin appeared at the corners of his lips and eyes.

  Trying to keep his train of thought on track, my arms uncrossed and my tone softened, “Alright. What’s the message then?”

  “There is concern on our end that you are the catalyst, and that deception which will lead down the path with only one end is at play.” His smile had flattened and the corners of his eyes hardened to stone as he turned to face me. There was no joy in his features at that moment.

  “Catalyst for what?” I asked, feeling my stomach drop at the implications and expected answer. Angels wouldn’t show up at my door to tell me I had just won the Publishers Clearing House giveaway. This was serious if Gabriel was here.

  “The Day of Reckoning, of course,” Gabriel said. My stomach rushed down to meet my anus, which was clenching upward. I became a little light-headed as his words smashed into my mind like a mallet on a watermelon. Damn it, Gallagher!

  “My horoscope said this would happen,” I said with a sigh. Gabriel let a quick bark of laughter escape his throat before placing a fist over his mouth.

  “Ah! This guy gets it!” I said while pointing at him and looking at Depweg. Damn, he was likable.

  Depweg joined the conversation, “In what way is John responsible for the apocalypse?” His arms were crossed over his massive chest, and a dubious yet interested look was on his face. Veins popped out all over his muscles, from the sleeve of his shirt down to his fingers.

  “I’m afraid there is only so much I can tell you. Rules, you know?” He looked upward at the last part, referring to the pact God had made with Satan about mortal interference.

  “Well, what can you share with the rest of the class?” I asked, annoyed that he knew a lot more than he could let on.

  “Only this message: You are free to make any decision, in the entire universe, that you wish. It is the consequences that are unavoidable.” His emphasis was subtle.

  “Sounds like a poster,” I said before I could stop myself.

  “Exactly,” he responded with a wink. “Well, that is all the time for today, abomination.” For some reason, when he called me that, it didn’t seem to bother me as much. Gabriel turned to nod at Depweg before he started walking toward the door.

  “You know, it really throws us off when you say that,” I told him while squinting my eyes at him. It’s not that I was offended; I was just confused at his demeanor and overall pleasantness mixed with that term.

  “What, abomination? My apologies if it offends, of course. It is simply what you are. You’ll understand someday,” Gabriel said over his shoulder with an award-winning smile. For some reason, the image of him sitting at the head of a corporation formed in my head. “Farewell.” The smoky mist rushed to envelop the angel as h
e walked through the door and up the stairwell.

  I didn’t respond as I shut the door behind him, my mind swirling with his message and subtle emphasis indicating a deeper meaning to his words.

  Lily appeared on the armrest of the couch, her demeanor serious and lost in thought.

  Ignoring her, as I knew she wouldn’t tell me what was really on her mind, I turned to Depweg. “What did you make of that?”

  Placing his hand on his clean-shaven chin in thought, Depweg said, “He added ‘in the universe’ to that quote, deliberately.”

  “Was that a hint to seek other planes for help? Or was he suggesting that we do nothing at all?” I asked while starting to pace. “Could it have been a straight-up warning that no matter what we do, we will be punished? That’s kind of what the first guy said.”

  “Hey, hey. There is no ‘we,’” Depweg said using air quotes. “He said you.”

  My jaw dropped open and my hands dropped to my sides, palms facing forward and fingers outstretched in a show of Whiskey Tango Foxtrot.

  “Just messing with you, dude. You know I’m in,” Depweg said while pointing finger guns at me.

  “Damn straight. Who’s a good boy?” I teased Depweg.

  His smile vanished and was instantly replaced with a scowl.

  “Actually,” Lily began, “I have a plan.”

  5

  That’s a terrible plan,” I said with impeccable comedic timing. I had taken an improv class and learned that if you had the right comedic timing, then it was okay to be a complete asshole—just as long as you were funny. That’s not what they taught, but that’s what I’d learned before I was asked to never return.

  “I haven’t even said my plan yet. I literally just said ‘I have a plan’ and you chimed in as if I had laid out said plan.”

  “Do we plan on not saying plan anymore?” Depweg asked while pinching the bridge of his nose between thumb and index finger.

  “Don’t plan to,” I responded smiling.

  “John!” Lily said as much with her hands as with her voice. “You are exhausting,” she sighed.

  “Plan,” I poked.

  Lily looked up at me, and I realized I had possibly made an error. “Rip out your tongue,” she commanded with amusement. Yeah, I had definitely made a mistake.

  Compulsion took over. My smirk evaporated as I struggled against her order. My face scrunched in intense concentration. I could feel my hand attempting to pull an Evil Dead and do its own thing. Too bad I didn’t have a chain saw lying around.

  “Hold up,” Depweg said. I could always count on him to have my back. “Want to make sure I get this,” he continued while pulling out his cell phone and turning the camera on. My hand was making headway toward my mouth, which was clenched tighter than an anus after eating at a Chinese buffet ten minutes before closing on a Tuesday.

  “Wait,” Lily said, and I froze in place, relief washing over me. “You’re in portrait. Turn it sideways.”

  “Oh, right,” Depweg said while turning his phone horizontally.

  Lily looked back at me and cheerfully said, “Continue, John.”

  “I plan on it,” I said through teeth that were refusing to part. “Yup, this is exactly what I wanted to do. Ol’ tongue was getting in the way.”

  Depweg was shaking while trying to control his mirth. Lily just stared at me with a cool smile. I only had one card to play to take control of the situation. Opening my mouth wide, I gave full permission to my rebel hand and reached in, grasping my tongue hard. With a deep breath, I pulled quickly, tearing the tongue in half and sending blood splattering in an arc in front of me. Both Depweg and Lily were now covered in a new polka-dot ensemble. I tossed the tongue onto Lily’s lap and made a kissy face at the camera, blood cascading through my lips and down my chin. I walked past the stunned duo and into my room, where I willed the wound closed.

  I turned and set my hand on the door and yelled, “PLAN!” before slamming the door shut. Or at least I tried to. Pretty sure it came out as “PAN!” without my tongue.

  I physically high-fived myself at having the last words and heard a bemused giggle. Shrieking like a tiny girl, I turned to see Lily sitting on my bed with a devious gleam in her eye. Her clothes and skin were polka dot–free, as if she had just gone through an OxiClean commercial. My hands shot up to my mouth, and I shook my head hard, pleading with my eyes.

  “Calm down, John. I truly want to help. Besides, what fun would it be to lose my favorite toy?” she said as her hands found the bottom of her blouse and started lifting it up, revealing toned abs. Wonder if she meant my maw’s appendage or me.

  There was a knock on my door and I angrily called out with my healing speechmaker, “What?”

  Depweg’s voice came through the door, muffled but audible enough, “There’s a package for you.” There was a hesitance to his words. Probably because he knew he was tongue-blocking me right now.

  “There’s a package in here too!” I called back. I was met with silence.

  Confused, I turned to open the door, my eyes refusing to leave Lily’s body as she let her blouse slide back down.

  “There’s a box for you, man,” Depweg said standing in my doorway. Both his voice and facial expression displayed a confounded disbelief interlaced with a growing anger. He was clenching an oil rag in his hand that he had used to wipe off my lightly speckled blood.

  “What’s in the box?” I asked in my best Brad Pitt voice.

  “Funny you should say that,” Depweg responded while his gaze dropped to the ground; his face screwed up in dreamlike disbelief. I noticed his mouth twitched in such a way that he unconciously bared his teeth before relaxing again. It was like his mind was battling between confusion and anger.

  On the table in front of the couch lay open a plain brown box. I stepped closer to try to gain a better perspective and was rewarded with an impossibility. Locke’s burnt, scarred head stared up at me, his face still decimated from our battle. His eyes grew wide when he saw me, matching my own surprised look.

  “You!” we said in unison, or would have if Locke had a functioning lower jaw.

  In all my centuries, I have absorbed countless scrolls, texts, books, and blogs about anything and everything I could get my hands on. I have mastered every language that I’ve encountered and have read all works of major art in their original tongues. This has afforded me with every conceivable combination of words at my disposal at any time, allowing me what surely must be the vastest vocabulary in the entire world.

  “Hea-head…alive!” I stammered eloquently while pointing a shaking finger at the box on my coffee table.

  Lily came out of my room and strolled over to where I was pointing. Without missing a beat, she almost purred to herself in delight and lifted the destroyed cranium out of its cardboard prison by its greasy black hair.

  “Did it…um…come with a receipt? I mean, it is burnt,” I said dumbly. Both Lily and Depweg looked at me with squinting eyes and mouths in little O shapes, as if I had just asked if the living head that had been delivered in a box had a receipt with it. “Note! I meant note. Oh, and who the hell delivered this?” At this, they let my question slide and pondered the delivery itself. “And perhaps the most important question, how the hell is it still alive?”

  Depweg strode to the TV remote and began searching methodically through our security footage. First, he watched the entrance to the Fortress of Solitaire, and when he was satisfied that it showed nothing, he moved on to the others surrounding the perimeter. Not a single one showed a delivery person.

  “How did you know the box was here?” I asked Depweg.

  “After you slammed your door, Lily disappeared, leaving me alone. I really wanted to watch Aliens, so I turned to walk toward the couch, and that’s when I saw the box on the table.” Depweg pointed to where the cardboard cube still remained. “After sniffing it and feeling for any traps, I decided to open it myself rather than bother you two love falcons.”

  “HA!” I ba
rked out. “Love falcons. That’s awesome.” I could see Locke rolling his eyes at that. I walked up to where Lily was still holding him and asked really slowly, “Can you understand me? Give me a thumbs-up for yes or tap your foot for no.” I found it easy, even cathartic, to humiliate the man responsible for so much of my and my were friend’s pain.

  Locke rolled his eyes again, and I could hear the air escape his mouth hole in a pshaw. Lily started to set the head down on the coffee table when I cried out, “WAIT!” She froze in place as I slid a coaster underneath where the head hovered. “Okay, there.” With a roll of her own eyes—boy, there was a lot of that going around—she laid the head down. It just sat there, if a head could sit, looking at us. His eyes shifted from person to person, unsure of what to do.

  “Do you know where you are?” Depweg asked calmly but with an edge of irritation while walking into Locke’s line of sight. There was a bit of restraint in his tone, as if he were trying to forcibly keep his own head on straight. “Blink once for yes and twice for no.” Locke blinked once before his brow furrowed. We could all feel Depweg’s anger burning white-hot deep in his core, masked by military discipline.

  “Do you know how you got here?” Lily asked. Locke blinked twice.

  “Do you know the muffin man?” I asked while walking to the junk drawer in the kitchen. Once I reached it, I retrieved what I was looking for, which was right next to a bottle of clear superglue, and then asked over my shoulder, “Did he blink?” before turning and walking back toward the table.

  Ignoring my question, Depweg asked, “Will you tell us what your master’s plan was?” Locke hesitated and then blinked twice, but not out of defiance like I was expecting. “Then what use are you to us?” Depweg asked as his voice rumbled in the beginnings of a growl.

  “None,” I called over my shoulder. “Let’s kill him…you know…again. But first…”

  I returned to the coffee table and got down on one knee while removing the cap of the Sharpie. With a few lines and some circles, Locke was ready for a night on the town.