by Hunter Blain
“How are you going to do that, vampire?” Joey asked coldly with arms crossed over his chest. I didn’t take offense to the implied disrespect because I understood both what he was going through and what he meant. If Depweg’s human mind was compromised, or even gone, how could I hope to communicate with him.
An impulsive idea lurched to the forefront of my brain, and my mouth reacted before the rest of my consciousness understood what I was about to ask. “Do you want to come with me?”
Joey uncrossed his arms and softened his expression as I caught him off guard.
“Yeah. Yeah, I do,” he said with a conversational tone, all aggression washed away with such a simple question.
Of course, that simple question also held a world of danger and responsibility for Joey. From what I had seen, Depweg was a terrifying monster now, and I honestly couldn’t say if I was going to be able to stop him.
“Grab your bug-out bag and let’s go,” I instructed. Joey complied by retreating to his room with a hustle in his step. Locke looked down at his phone, pretending to fine-tune our sync.
“What is it?” I asked, fully knowing what he was going to say.
“Nothing,” Locke replied, though he stopped pretending to work on his phone and instead stared through it with unfocused eyes.
I leaned in close enough so Joey couldn’t hear us, and whispered, “Come on, man.”
Locke looked at me with dread in his eyes and admitted, “If he fights Depweg, Joey will die. If you manage to kill Depweg, what’s to stop Joey from losing his own mind and going feral? The situation is stacked against you, John. Surely you must see that.”
I nodded my head as it was my turn to stare into oblivion with eyes that didn’t see the now. Instead, I saw the exact likely events Locke had just laid out fly in front of my eyes in a millisecond.
“I need to respect his decision. He has a right to try and save Depweg just as much as I do.”
“Just as long as you understand the risks,” Locke relented, returning his focus to his phone while letting his eyebrows rise slightly in a gesture that said, “I said what I needed to say; now it’s on you.”
I placed a hand on his shoulder and was about to say something along the lines of, “I appreciate your input,” before my bare forearm cut me off. A scowl spread on my face as my eyes followed the path up my arm to where my trench coat had been torn just above the elbow. The usual disappointment at seeing my trusty coat in tatters was dominated by the realization that Da was no longer around to fix it. My scowl transitioned into a frown as tears formed at the bottom of my eyelids like a wave about to crash.
Locke looked up from the phone to study my face and then followed my gaze to the coat. His eyebrows knitted together in an expression of understanding before surprise shot them to his hairline.
“Oh!” he exclaimed, excited. “John, go in my room where you found the gauntlet. There’s…there’s something there for you.” His voice was soft as he spoke, signifying he knew something of vast importance to me.
My eyes, on the verge of spilling tears, drifted to his room, and I made my way to his door. I stared at the knob, knowing whatever was behind that door would change things forever.
Eventually, my hand grasped the knob and turned. As I stood in the doorway, the H. R. Giger picture hung, ready to give up its secret.
I walked to it with painfully slow steps, placed my hand on the edge of the frame, and swung it open with a gentle creaking sound.
On the bottom shelf was the rectangular box with the bow on it. I stood frozen for several seconds as I just stared at it. It looked old, like it had been there for years.
After what felt like an eternity, I found the will to grab the box and set it gingerly on Locke’s bed. I lifted the lid and was met with thin white sheets with a card on top. I picked up the card with shaking hands and read it.
John,
If you are reading this rather than me presenting it to you in person, then I am probably back with Father.
You’ve been gone for some time—two years to be exact—and it behooves me to go in search of you. However, should I not make it back, I wanted to leave you a gift that each of your dear friends had a hand in making. We were all so proud of how you not only defeated Ulric, but your own pride. Plus, quite frankly, I have grown tired of keeping your beef jerky of a trench coat alive. There’s only so much magic even I can do, so I made you a new one.
It gives me great pleasure to introduce you to your new coat.
I opened the paper sheets encasing the garment, pulled the coat out, let it drop to full length, and then set it gently on the bed. I looked back at the note, the words getting hard to read as the tears resurged in a tidal wave.
Taylor provided the material, which is substantially stronger than anything I could have procured. Valenta crafted the buttons from wood taken directly from his bar; and yes, it did reside in Valhalla at one point—not sure why Val told me this, but he assured me that you would know what he meant. Father Thomes provided the silver crosses on the collar that will protect you from both divination and ranged attacks. Depweg, with a great deal of convincing, let us buzz his were-pelt to place along the inner lining. Locke, the twins, and myself had a heyday with him until he pounced on Locke. You know Depweg!
My mind shifted from Da to Depweg, compounding the anguish, and my silent tears became full-on sobs as I covered my mouth with my free hand.
John, I don’t know where you are, but it is safe to assume you are in one piece, considering the world has not yet ended. Depweg and the twins are working with Father Thomes to carry on the good work in your absence. They are doing amazing things. You would be so proud of them.
Oh, you won’t believe this, but even Locke and I have grown, shall we say, “not hostile” toward one another. You made the right decision letting him on the team.
Well, that’s enough of that, as I fully plan on returning to present you with your unique outerwear in person. So, until we meet again.
Ta-ta,
—Da
He had signed it with the name I had bestowed upon him, like a badge of honor. Tears coated the letter, smearing some of the ink, and I fell to my knees as I clutched the page to my chest. I heaved with a perfect balance of indescribable sorrow and undeserving love. I shoved my face into Locke’s thick comforter, and cried out as my lungs expelled every square inch of air. I sucked in again and repeated the process three more times, until I had cried my last tear. I lifted my wet face and looked at the coat my friends had made for me.
Sniffling, I stood up, wiping my nose on my burnt shirt, and took in the sheer magnificence of the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.
My fingers ran gingerly over the black Fae silk that I knew was preternaturally resilient. Wooden buttons lined the edge of one of the flaps, and I squinted to see impossible details etched into all six. Each told the tale of how I had met my friends. I lifted the coat and looked at them one by one, starting at the bottom.
The first showed the twins sitting at a table, Dawson with an animated toothy smile and Joey with a shit-eating, closed-mouth grin. A pang of sadness thumped against my chest as I stared at Dawson’s grin.
“Rest easy, buddy. I’ll take care of your brother for you,” I whispered to Dawson.
Above that was Locke’s head in a box with a surprised look on its face. I chuckled at the memory.
The fourth from the top showed Father Thomes waving in front of his church. I could even make out the detail of his little collar in the wood.
Next was me sitting at a bar with my hand in the air, mid wave, as Val rolled his eyes. I could actually see the detail of the eye roll, and barked out in laughter.
The button above that showed a bridge over a flowing river. Da was floating in midair with a welcoming smile on his face. My throat constricted at the memory.
I was paralyzed on the second to top button, knowing what the topmost one would hold.
I took in a deep breath, held it, and exhaled
as I willed my eyes to the first wooden button. A moan escaped my throat as I saw Depweg and I clasping forearms, signifying the beginnings of a long and fruitful brotherhood.
I let my thumb slide over the button as my fingers glided over the soft fur lining on the inside. I let my eyes slide to the brown fur, and let out a burst of laughter that sent snot sliding down my face. The image of a buzzed Depweg in were form was too much!
“I’m coming to save you, brother,” I promised Depweg.
A glint on the collar caught my attention, and once again, I wiped my face clean on my shirt as I looked at the silver crosses. They were gorgeous in their simplicity.
“You and I…weren’t that close when this was done,” Locke said softly from behind. “I didn’t have anything to contribute, so, instead, I offered to hold it for you until you came back.”
I looked over my shoulder with wet eyes, and said, “Thank you, Locke. I-I can’t begin to tell you how much this means to me.”
Locke smiled and nodded his head, having a strong idea of what impact the gesture had had.
I removed my WWII trench coat, which had been with me for almost a full century, and set it on the bed next to the one Da had made for me.
Picking up the most epic trench coat in the history of ever, I slipped my hands through the sleeves and felt the comfort from the thin layer of fur. It wasn’t puffy like a traditional fur coat. Instead, it was more akin to thick suede.
I ran my fingers down the Fae silk, basking in the wonderment of something that was beyond soft, yet could deflect bullets.
Feeling a rush of joy, I twirled in place, letting the long flaps extend out, and stopped to orient on Locke.
“How do I look?” I asked with a huge smile.
“Like a badass,” Locke said admiringly. I couldn’t tell if he was just saying it because the moment dictated such sentiment or if it was genuine; but I also didn’t care. I would wear this trench coat until the day I died, and then drag it into whatever eternity I was sucked into.
I walked to Locke, who stood with his arms crossed as he leaned against the doorway, and wrapped my arms around him in a bear hug. I lifted him up and bounced him as he said, “Okay, okay. I get it.” He paused for a moment before he commented with his face squished against my chest, “Wow, that really is soft.”
“I know, right?” I said, putting him down. He turned and made his way into the living room with me in tow.
Joey came out, slinging a tactical backpack over his shoulders and clasping the straps across his chest. He eyed my trench and said in an even tone, “Nice coat.”
“Are you ready, dude?” I asked Joey.
He lifted his chin and nodded at me once.
We made our way to the door, ready to do whatever must be done.
“Good luck,” Locke said as we stepped outside. I grabbed Joey, pulling him close to my chest, sprouted my bloodwings, and we were off.
“When did you get those?” Joey asked over his shoulder, nodding at my massive flapping wings.
“K-Mart. Blue light special,” I said in my announcer voice.
Joey returned his gaze to the ground below, unimpressed. Damn kids and their MTV.
I headed north, and I could see Joey looking around at the city for markers.
“Mexico is south, dude,” Joey called over his shoulder loud enough to be heard over the wind. It comforted me to notice how much warmer it was this time around.
“I need to make a stop first,” I called back.
Within a few minutes, we were descending next to an old ramshackle of a house with a sign out front.
“Psychic? Really, dude?” Joey criticized.
“I know, I know. I said the same thing,” I responded slowly, as if in a dream. I was terrified to see Lachesis again.
We approached the stoop, and I turned to Joey as I said, “She will probably want you to wait here.”
“Fine by me,” Joey responded, crossing his arms and leaning against the house to stare out at the road.
The door began to slowly creak open like we were in a horror movie. Which to me, we freaking were.
When it opened all the way, the doorway was empty. I peered inside, searching left and right.
A familiar voice called out from the back room. The room where my fate had been exposed to me.
“Come in,” said the woman with the African accent. I took a step inside when she continued, “Both of you.”
I stopped, dead in my tracks, and regarded Joey. He leaned off the house, uncrossed his arms, and walked past me and into the darkness. I watched after him, surprised at his confidence; but then I reminded myself that he didn’t know what awaited us.
Taking a deep breath, I willed my nerves to steady, and followed Joey inside and to the back room.
Lachesis sat in her chair as if waiting for us. Which, of course, she was. She had to have known we were coming, which meant she also already knew what we were going to ask.
I cut to the chase, dispensing with the pleasantries. “What’s your price, seer?” As soon as it left my mouth, I understood that calling her “seer” was a pathetic attempt to siphon control of the situation that I was powerless in.
“Blood,” she answered curtly as she pulled out an ornate silver knife. It looked like it had been made for sacrificial purposes.
Now, I may not have been the sharpest crayon in the cabinet, but I knew giving my blood to a supernatural was not a good idea. Especially one as seemingly powerful and proficient as Lachesis.
When I didn’t respond, opting to look at my hands as I debated the price, she countered, “Or maybe the hammer hanging about your waist. Mmm.” She was all but purring as she spoke.
I held out my hand with a furrowed brow as she lifted the knife. Funny how the request for blood, which had been so emphatically a bad idea, suddenly became as menial as asking for a dollar bill when Mjolnir was brought into the mix.
She made a show of pretending to cut my hand wide open before she stopped midstrike and simply poked the tip of my index finger as she said, “Boop.”
“Ow,” I said with more annoyance than pain as a tiny bubble of blood left my finger to rest on the tip of the blade.
“What are you going to do with that?” I asked, licking my finger.
“Not your concern,” she answered swiftly.
“Eh, it kinda is,” I countered. Lachesis ignored this as the blade disappeared under the table.
“As for you,” Lachesis began, turning to Joey, who immediately stiffened. She inspected him up and down with a scowl, her milky eyes roaming intently. Then her expression went slack. “I require nothing from you.”
“Wh-why?” Joey asked, taken aback.
“Dude, shut up!” I hissed at him.
“Because, child, you have paid enough.” I turned with a scrunched up face to regard Lachesis, who showed such compassion in that moment that it left me speechless—me. I hoped this wasn’t becoming a habit of mine.
Seeing this side of Lachesis, I asked, “So, are you a heartless seer toying with people by revealing vague futures, or do you actually care about those who seek your guidance? I don’t understand.”
“I know you don’t, fool,” she said coldly.
“Aaaaand, there it is. Can we get on with it, then?” I asked, rolling my eyes.
“You must ask your question so that the universe might hear it.”
“You already know what my question is.”
Lachesis turned to Joey with hands out to her sides and palms up. “Does he seriously not ever listen?”
“Hey!” I called out.
“No, he really doesn’t,” Joey answered as easily and in the same tone as if he were telling someone the time after they’d asked.
“Alrighty then,” I said, pulling the chair out and slamming my (actually) fit butt down on it aggressively. “Can we continue?” I let my hands fall on the table with a smack, just to make sure they knew how much fun I was having.
Lachesis looked at me, expectan
tly.
“What?” I asked, throwing my hands up.
“Dude, ask the damn question,” Joey said as he sat down in a more respectable fashion than I had. You know, not dragging the chair across the floor and plopping down. That kind of thing.
I shot daggers at Lachesis, annoyed that she was making me ask.
The picture of Monster Depweg, covered in the blood of the innocent, flashed through my mind. I sobered up immediately, letting my pride deflate.
“What is the name of the boy Depweg was tricked into killing during World War II?” I asked, leaning forward in my seat.
Lachesis looked up, letting her milky eyes shift back and forth as if the answer was written on the ceiling.
Her eyes locked on a spot before growing wide. “Benji Silver,” she said slowly, enunciating the words as clearly as she could manage with her thick accent. I was half expecting her to freak out and go all poltergeist again.
As she finished, she dropped her eyes from the ceiling back down to me and sat silently for a few weird moments.
“Is-is that it?” I asked. “Benji Silver? That’s not much to go on.”
“From all da death around dat time, it’s a miracle I could get anything at all. But know this, vampire; you asked the universe a question, now the universe knows the answer.”
“Okay, that’s not a weird thing to say at all,” I said facetiously.
“I think she means others will know who Depweg killed now,” Joey suggested.
“Only da ones who know how ta listen,” Lachesis added prophetically. I was starting to get sick of that.
Throwing on my best Ace Ventura, I said, “Foreshadowing much?”
Not wanting to spend another second there, I promptly stood and said, “Thanks for nothing. Don’t suppose I could get a refund on that blood you took from me? No? Didn’t think so. Joey, let’s go. Now.”
I strode down the hallway and out the front door to stand in the warm night. Extending my hand into an L, I checked the time and decided we could probably get a few hundred miles south of the border before dawn. I sprouted my bloodwings and turned to see the empty doorway.
