The Preternatural Chronicles: Books 0-3

by Hunter Blain

  “You mean rob him?” Depweg asked, testing my comment to see where I stood on the moral ground.

  “See if you can find any pertinent information, like who he was working with. He got this house—which is not supposed to be here, by the way—and had a small task force of hired goons, including fucking demons, man. Look for anything that shows where the money came from to pay for the muscle, and then burn it down.”

  “What do you mean it isn’t supposed to be here?”

  “It has a ward on it that prevents mortals from finding or remembering it. Bad guys use it as a hideout,” I explained.

  “Got ya. Guess I should burn it down, then.”

  “Say, that’s a damn good idea. Do that. I’m going to take this sack of shit to a special place at Papa T’s. You guys good here?”

  Depweg and I looked over at Joey and Dawson, who were piling electronics, cash, and weapons on the ground just outside the front door.

  “If this is a supernatural bad guy hangout, then yeah, we’re good,” Depweg said.

  “Check the garage for a ride before burning the place down,” I called as Depweg walked toward the house to find any information he could.

  As if on cue, Father Thomes pulled up in his hearse and I walked over to it, dragging Ulric behind me, who clutched at the noose as it tightened. “What’s wrong, princess? Don’t like that?”

  I set Ulric in the passenger’s seat and then climbed in behind him, keeping the noose tight around his neck to discourage any violent outbursts. He didn’t need to breathe, anyway.

  “You did well, John,” Father Thomes Philseep said, pride brimming in his voice. “I had prayed you would be strong enough to win the battle.”

  “Turns out, I’m way fucking stronger than this piece of shit,” I said, tugging lightly at the rope, which prompted a moan from Ulric.

  “I wasn’t referring to him,” Father Thomes said as he looked meaningfully at me through the rearview mirror while putting the hearse into drive.

  “Oh,” I replied, feeling conflicted at everyone’s faith in me to control my emotions. I was happy that I had (barely) done the right thing and rewarded the faith my friends had in me; but it was still sobering to know how they really felt about me.

  We rode in silence back to the church as my mind replayed all the events and coincidences of the evening. Richard the treant showing up where and when he did, followed by the angel Gabriel, who convinced me to imbibe the faerie-juana. I had been more anxious and fearful than I had thought, probably because my pride blinded me from reality. Richard and Gabe had allowed me to relax, control my emotions, and realize the truth—that I was the stronger person; not only physically but mentally as well. I’d beaten both my enemies in one fell swoop—Ulric, and my own inner demons. Oh yeah, and stopped the end of the world.

  * * *

  I dragged Ulric to his new home in the catacomb dungeon belowground. Father Thomes wasn’t kidding; he had made vast improvements after my escape. There was no bed, only a simple down mattress and pillow. The door was no longer hinged. Instead, it was a sliding door similar to that of a jail cell but with a solid iron door. There was a small hole with a sturdy cover where items could be placed inside without having to open the door. There was also a bar that fell into place that braced the edge of the door once it was closed, providing further sturdiness and guaranteeing that no one could possibly get out.

  As we placed Ulric on the mattress and removed the noose from around his neck, he opened his eyes and looked around, frantically.

  “Where am I?” he cried out weakly as the door started to slide shut. Before it closed, I flipped him off and smiled. His eyes blazed with fury and confusion. The iron shut with a thud that reverberated in the stone, sending dust tumbling down from lamps that littered the catacombs. I noticed there was a red button with a clear plastic cover on it. So, of course, I lifted the plastic and put my finger on the button while asking, “What’s this do?”

  “Please do not press that button,” Father Thomes calmly but sternly said. “It releases enchanted iron dust into the ventilation of the cell. Enough to reduce the supernatural occupant to ashes.

  “Neat,” I said in awe before realizing that the room had been made for, and then modified, for me. “Oh, shit.” I looked at Father Thomes with a mixture of emotions.

  “Are you really that surprised, John?”

  “I guess not. You gotta do what you gotta do. But damn!”

  “Thank you for understanding. Now then, leave Ulric in my care and try not to get yourself killed.”

  Without thinking, I embraced my friend who was trying his best to save my black, stained soul. He stiffened in surprise, as I had never hugged him before, and then relaxed while putting his arms around me.

  “I’m proud of you,” Father Thomes told me. It meant so much coming from him.

  “You know, I’m kinda proud of me too,” I said as we separated.

  “Go. Be with your friend you risked everything to save,” he said with a smile.

  I took his hint and headed home, stopping to have a drink at Valenta’s first. I wanted to let him know everything had turned out okie dokie. As I entered through the front, Valenta nodded at me as I made my way to the bar and sat on one of his custom-made stools. His place was empty. I could only assume supes were still hiding.

  “Give me the usual, please, sir.”

  “Glad yer still with us, boy,” Valenta said as he poured my special mixture of enchanted Jack and Blood. “Thanks for not doen nothen stupid.”

  “I hope all of you know how hard it was to not kill him.”

  “I hope ya’know how grateful we are that ya didn’t,” he said as he slid a second drink over. It was a subtle show of gratitude that meant mountains coming from Valenta.

  Holding up the glass, I said, “Skool,” before downing the first and starting on the second after the burn dissipated, sipping it to enjoy the significance of these drinks. The world had not ended, and I was growing, which fucking sucked. It was so much easier to be stubborn, prideful, and full of rage. But damn it, I really enjoyed Game of Thrones and all these bitchen superhero movies that would cease to exist if the apocalypse happened.

  After a few minutes of blessed silence and self-contemplation, a tall figure entered through the door and came to sit next to me without pausing. I recognized his smell before I saw the pointy ears in my periphery.

  “Hey, Taylor.”

  “Greetings and salutations, hero,” Taylor said, placing an admiring hand on my shoulder.

  “Hero? I don’t know about that,” I said, taking a long pull from my drink, finishing it. I held up the empty glass and shook it slightly while scrunching my face with the sweet, sweet burn. Val nodded and began pouring a fresh one.

  “Allow me,” Taylor said, placing a crisp hundred on the counter and sliding it toward Valenta.

  “Don’t know if I want any Fae to pay for my drink there, bud,” I said, setting down the empty glass and picking up the full one.

  “No strings. And once again, I’m a friend of this plane and don’t play the Fae games of the other courts.”

  “Well then, cheers,” I said, taking a sip from the glass, letting it slide down my throat. I was beginning to feel the effects. “So the Seelie Court is a friend, huh?”

  “Yes. I would very much like to be your friend, which is why I am here.”

  “Oh, Lilith, here it comes,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “The Shadow Court is upset that you didn’t kill Ulric, or the other way around. Well, not as much ‘upset’ as they are ‘pissed,’” he said with air quotes. “They don’t know where Ulric is, but they know where you are.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked with words that were beginning to slur, setting my drink down hard, and turning to fully face him.

  “They know you are in one of the largest ley lines in the region; Houston. They have countless shadow Fae they can send, and will send, to kill you and erase this plane until only darkness remains
.”

  “Let them come,” I said, emphasizing each word, and turned back to my drink.

  “They will, but know you have friends with the Seelie. We will be watching,” Taylor finished before blinking out of this plane.

  “Oh, goodie. The fun never stops for John Cook. Lilith, can’t I get five fucking minutes to myself?” I said in cursive, my words slurring together.

  “God only gives what we can handle, boy. Some can take more than others.”

  “Yeah, yeah. Father Thomes and you should write a damn book.”

  “Don’t need ta. One’s already been done,” Val said, turning to clean the bar behind him, leaving me to my thoughts.

  I finished my drink, thanked Val with a nod, and stood on wobbly legs to leave. The air was calm and the stars were out in full force, no longer afraid of the end that almost happened tonight. I took in a deep breath and began casually strolling to my home, enjoying the world around me as if for the first time.

  As I walked in a completely straight line to the graveyard’s entrance, I immediately noticed an out-of-place, blacked-out Ford Expedition parked out front. The back was open and I saw Joey and Dawson carrying various valuables toward the mausoleum. I could hear them talking with one another, excited at their loot, and to be alive. I wondered if they got any good movies or games out of the deal. OH! Or maybe an incredibly rare relic from some ancient civilization that was haunted or something. Killer book idea, or maybe Hulu.

  I drunkenly walked to the entrance of my home and descended the stairs, flattening against the wall as Joey and Dawson made their way back out for another load. Joey high-fived me as I passed, while Dawson moved his hand back and said, “Too slow, old man!”

  “Could use some help,” Joey said over his shoulder.

  “I’m managerial,” I said with a slur. “You guys are doing great! Keep it up! We’re only as strong as the early bird that gets the moss.”

  “Dude, I think…” Dawson started.

  “Don’t engage,” Depweg warned from the bottom of the stairs. He sniffed the air as I got close. “How’s Valenta? Did he say anything?”

  “A lot,” I said as Depweg led the way to the kitchen where he turned to face me, waiting for the rest. Da and Locke were in the living room looking at the goodies we’d salvaged. That’s the legal term for stealing, right? Salvaged? Anyway.

  Rolling my eyes, I took in a deep breath and managed to get out, “Taylor showed up and bought me a drinky-poo. Nice guy, I like him. Mentioned something about the Shadow Court really wanting to cast the world into darkness, or something bleak like that.”

  “The fun never stops for John—” Da started.

  “Yeah, already said that,” I interrupted while trying to keep the world from spinning. “So everyone take a day or two to rest and get ready for a tidal wave of scary ass Fae monsters coming to kill us.”

  “Um, can I have a body?” Locke asked. “I can help. I want to help.”

  “Maybe for your birthday,” I said dismissively.

  “My birthday is actually tomorrow,” Locke said. Depweg and I looked at him, assessing his comment. “Seriously!”

  “Maybe for Christmas,” I amended, ignoring him. I was a little (a lot) drunk and tired. It was exhausting, doing the right thing, and even more tiring that there was a horde of faeries that wanted to kill me. “I need a vacation. Da, how many weeks do I have accrued?”

  “Not enough, I’m afraid,” Da said.

  “Lilith! Why do I even work here? No 401(k), shitty hours, and no vacation.”

  “Actually, your retirement is substantial. More than most countries, actually. You’re lucky to have me, you know. It’s dreadfully hard to run all these shell companies and spread the wealth over several companies around the globe.”

  “That’s why I pay you the medium bucks,” I said as I moved toward the couch. I turned my back and pretended to have to squeeze between the couch and coffee table, saying, “Excuse me. Oh, excuse me. Sorry about that. ’Cuse me,” as I stuck my ass out in Locke’s face, who could do nothing but take it on the chin, literally.

  “Dear Lord, man,” Locke said, scrunching his nose up futilely. “You smell rank. Were you at a Grateful Dead concert or something?”

  “Huh?” I asked, sniffing my armpits and taking in a whiff of the organic holy weed Richard had given me. “Oh, right. That smell is what saved the world, my friends.”

  I picked up the remote and began sorting through shows to continue watching. When I didn’t continue the odd statement, Da asked, “Care to elaborate further?”

  “Not really,” I answered, feeling their judgment wash over me. I didn’t have the energy to confess out loud that I hadn’t been confident if I could restrain from killing Ulric or not, and that it’d taken a foreign substance of mind-altering origin to mellow me enough to not cause Armageddon.

  “Oh, man, what season is The Walking Dead on now? I got bored after the Governor,” I said, changing the subject.

  Knowing there was no winning when I was stubborn and drunk like this, Da and Depweg continued sorting items on the kitchen table.

  “I understand,” Locke whispered. “I’ve known you awhile and I get it. No judgment here.”

  I looked at him then, as if for the first time. Then I picked him up, tearing away the mannequin body, and put my palms around both sides of his head just as I had done before. Blood flowed out and surrounded his neck before moving downward. I focused and sent my energy into expanding his flesh. It took a lot of what I had left in my tanks, but since I was on a roll with self-betterment, I figured why not learn to trust.

  After a full minute, the blood retracted back into my being, leaving behind a brand-new body for Locke. Tears began to well in his eyes that he instinctively wiped away with his new hand.

  “John, I…” he began, fighting back the oncoming wave of sobs. “What the…” He looked at his baby hand with its cute little chubby folds, then his other. As I sat him on the couch, he looked down at his naked body and gaped incredulously. “My penis! It’s the size of a Lil Smokey!”

  “Don’t give yourself too much credit, kid,” I said, stifling a laugh. He looked at me with a pleading look that also had anger mixed in. “Look,” I said, “You’ll grow into it.” With that, the whole room burst into laughter, all except for Locke, whose mouth was permanently affixed open in what I assumed was gratitude.

  “Dude! They have a bootleg disk of the new Avengers mov— Holy fuck! What is that?” Dawson yelled, dropping his spoils and pointing at Locke. “Why is there a man’s head on that baby?”

  “Cool,” Joey said, shouldering past Dawson to drop his load on the table.

  After a few minutes of laughing, I wiped the tears from my eyes, looked at Locke in all seriousness, and said, “Look, two things; I don’t know if I can fully trust you yet, and I used all the energy I had left to give you that. Plus I’m fucking drunk,” I said, motioning over his body. “Now, how about you cover up your Tic Tac and test the body out.”

  Locke grabbed a throw pillow and put it over his junk. “Not like that!” I said, noting that particular pillow would soon meet Mr. Fire.

  Locke waved a hand in midair and whispered to himself. A ball of fire the size of a marble appeared in his hand, making his eyes go wide with joy. “Thought I’d never get to do that again! OW!” Locke said as the fire began to burn his delicate baby flesh. “Oh, right. I’ll have to toughen up again. Damn it, that took years the first time!”

  “You have nothing but time,” I told Locke. “No Master pulling the strings this time, forcing your every move. Dobby is a free elf.”

  “Hey! I can feel my heartbeat! I…I’m alive!” Locke exalted.

  “Do…do we need to get diapers?” Da asked in all seriousness.

  The End

  Epilogue—Part 1

  The new Avengers movie was in the loot pile; but, alas, it was dubbed in Danish. Fine with me, but I didn’t think anyone else could speak the language.

  “Gu
ess we’ll just have to wait for it to come out on iTunes or something,” I suggested.

  “Oh, John, before I forget,” Da started, “the blood bank is awaiting permits from the mortal authorities, and then we can begin construction. It may take some—”

  “Bribes,” I interrupted.

  “—greasing of certain wheels,” Da finished politically. “I am confident the project can be completed within the year.”

  “Make sure you get a steady supply to Doc Jim,” I said.

  “Of course,” Da responded. “Depweg had already shared his information with me. You’ll be pleased to know that he has made substantial upgrades to the clinic as well.”

  “Neat,” I said while chuckling at the hilarious translation the Danes had done.

  “Why are we watching this?” Locke asked.

  “Aw, does someone need a time-out?” I retorted without taking my eyes off the screen.

  “That’s never going to get old for you, is it?” Locke stated more than asked.

  “No,” I answered as I rose from the couch and walked the few steps to my room. No one questioned me leaving, though I could hear the movie change to something else that wasn’t horribly dubbed. I shut my door and clenched my fists until they shook and tears welled in my eyes. Veins bulged as I tried not to scream at the thought of the man I had killed in my rage. I had done to him what had happened to me so long ago.

  “What is it, John?” asked Lily in a soft, concerned voice.

  “I don’t fully know, Lily. I killed an innocent, and it’s weighing heavily on me. I don’t…I don’t understand.”

  “You’re growing, my dear. Being good isn’t about helping old ladies cross the street, you know. Believing you are good and being good are two completely different things, John. Your heart is changing, and with that comes the clarity of what is wrong. Embrace the pain, for you deserve it. I’m not going to sugarcoat it for you. What you did was wrong. But if you truly regret what you did, and you learn from it, then it is a lesson and not simply a mistake.”