Hugin nodded.
“That’s not an answer.”
Lucian thought about giving his crow a voice again, but last time he’d done so, it’d been a little weird. Lucian had grown accustomed to being alone and talking to himself; while he could create something to talk to him, he was still undecided if he actually wanted that.
The silence was nice, and talking to himself wasn’t half bad, as long as no one was watching.
Of course, no one was, but Lucian had had the notion several times now of how weird it would be for someone to see him rambling around in his dark robes, talking to himself while creating weapons that would be better off in a science fiction book than they would the spiritual plane of existence.
“She’s not very sweet; maybe if we give her dark chocolate it won’t do anything, which means milk chocolate will sweeten her up.” Lucian said, before instantly chastising himself. “You sound like an idiot. Dark chocolate, give her dark chocolate. And don’t say anything to her about being sweet or not being sweet, or being able to be sweetened. Otherwise, she will shoot you.”
Hugin buzzed off as Lucian worked on the dark chocolate recipe, starting from scratch this time, and adding all the ingredients as per the instructions he’d found online.
A thought occurred to him: Lucian licked his finger to see if he could taste the sugar. He couldn’t, but he added it anyway. He tried the same with the salt, still not able to discern an actual taste from it.
It was starting to smell better now, like real chocolate.
Lucian decided to try it out.
He created a spoon and took a little scoop from the pot, letting it cool for a second before tasting it.
It was still a little bitter, but there was something that he liked about it; a deep sweetness, savory in a way that made Lucian think that he was onto something.
He added a bit more honey, and stirred it for a while, letting all the ingredients melt together before tasting it again.
“That’s it,” he said to himself, still wondering why the individual ingredients didn’t have a taste.
With a wave of his hand, a molding pan appeared.
Lucian poured the chocolate in, and after it was all set, he activated his breathing power, cooling it off almost instantly but not actually turning it to the equivalent of chocolate ice cubes.
“Okay, here we go,” he said as he took out his first piece of cooled chocolate and gave it a try.
The flavor hit Lucian so hard that he almost stumbled backward.
It was perfect.
It was exactly what chocolate was supposed to taste like.
“Damn, damn,” he said as he ate another piece of chocolate, followed by another.
Now it was time for the next test.
Lucian stepped away from the chocolate he had made and shook his hands out. He turned his palm upward and a square plate appeared, three pieces of chocolate arranged in the center of the plate.
He pretended Danira was in front of him, offering her the chocolate.
He then took a piece and tried it, smiling when it tasted just like the chocolate he’d just made.
Maybe the secret to it all was actually learning to make the recipe and then conjuring it freely. It had been the same with coffee, but coffee didn’t have as many ingredients as chocolate, especially the way that Lucian liked his coffee.
He ate another piece, Ezra coming over to investigate.
“I’m pretty sure I can’t give chocolate to cats,” he told Ezra. “Then again, you aren’t actually alive.”
Lucian considered this for a moment and decided that it probably wasn’t going to kill the cat.
He placed the last piece of chocolate on the ground, and Ezra came running over to it. The cat sniffed it, and started eating it, reluctantly at first, but then with added enthusiasm as he finished it.
“It’s good, isn’t it?” Lucian asked, his apron vanishing. He checked his stats and saw that he wasn’t doing too bad.
Much to his surprise, it hadn’t taken too much to make the chocolate; then again, he had a lot more points to work with now than he had in the beginning.
Ready to switch gears, he turned to the lake and his giant creation.
This time he rose into the air above his creation, which was still lying on the ground to the left of the body of water. Lucian focused on its shoulders. He made sure there was plenty of space for tracking missiles and shoulder-mounted canyons, as well as a gun that would conjure injurecrows.
The shoulders finished, he moved to the right arm, first making the overall structure, and then adding a blade that snapped out of the forearm.
Figuring it would be best to have two options available to him, Lucian allowed for the blade to be used as a cutting tool or as an energy weapon, his next step being to add a compartment just above the wrist that also fired a concentrated energy blast.
He could create a larger gun for his creation later, which he would probably strap to its back.
For now, he focused on making sure the hand had dexterity, that it was able to swivel and move fluidly, to do anything he would possibly ask it to do.
He thought about giving the fist the power to fire off, so he could do a rocket-powered punch, but decided against that.
As he moved to the left arm, he changed his mind and returned to the right hand, and definitely gave it the ability to do a rocket-powered punch.
After all, why not?
He made the left arm the same as the right, with the same capabilities. Perhaps when he had everything up and running he would switch out their abilities, but for now, he just wanted to get his creation working.
It took Lucian a fair amount of time to finish the left arm, and once he was done, he went back to the right side, double-checking everything, strengthening it, making it rugged. He then moved to the torso, the waist, the feet, being sure to add rockets to the bottoms of the heels.
Lucian shifted his focus to his creation’s head.
He definitely wanted something that looked fierce, so we went for a mask similar to the one that he had created for himself, a skull made of metal, cliché but apropos, with beady purple eyes, sharp features, and as Lucian continued to configure it, without a jaw.
His creation wasn’t going to do any talking.
Only ass-kicking.
Lucian stepped back and focused his energy forward.
He continued to pour it into his creation, feeling the strain in his head, all of his life force flowing out of him as his mecha started to power up.
He heard a buzzing sound, his creation’s eyes flaring up and locking on Lucian.
But before he could finish, Lucian fell, exhaustion bringing into the ground.
“Whew…” he said, his stats hovering before him, too blurry for Lucian to actually make them out.
Lucian had literally poured all of his energy into his creation, and it still needed more.
But it was almost there, and as Lucian called his cape to take him to his bed, a name for his newest creation came to him.
Lucian smiled.
It was a ridiculous name.
Chapter Eighteen: Cold Day
Lucian finished his cup of coffee, savoring the last sip.
He didn’t know what the day would bring, so he decided not to focus on forcing more of his power into his newest creation.
Sure, he wanted to take it for a test drive, but he figured he would have plenty of time for that later, and besides, Lucian really wanted another day of pumping it full of energy before he powered it on.
There was always tomorrow, especially for Lucian.
He tried another piece of chocolate, smiling at the flavor.
“She’s going to love it,” he told Hugin, who hovered before him. Ezra still slept at the foot of the bed, Munin cuddled up with the cat.
Lucian pressed his thumb and pinky together, instantly appearing in his brother’s backyard.
It was later in the day than he thought it would be, and as he floated his
way into the home, he noticed that Sam was already gone.
Connor, who was looking at his phone when Lucian entered, glanced up when the cat meowed, its eyes focused on Lucian.
“All right, all right, Tuck,” Connor told the cat. “I’ll go get her.”
Connor stood, stretching his arms over his head. His phone buzzed and he quickly swiped the message away, nodding.
“Just a quick stop,” he said under his breath as he put his jacket on.
Lucian followed Connor to his truck, watching as his brother fumbled in the front of his jacket for his keys. He got inside the vehicle, shivering for a moment as it started to warm up, the windows fogging until he changed the direction of the heat.
Once he fired off another message, Connor backed out of the driveway, heading toward the mall.
“Don’t go there,” Lucian said, remembering the apartment complex where the drug dealer named Kenny lived. Or maybe it was the other dealer named Tim who lived there, the one who Lucian had gone after once he saw one of the peach-colored parasites on his body.
He didn’t know what had happened to him, and he really didn’t care.
Connor turned to a sports radio station, Lucian’s brother complaining about the Patriots’ tight end as he heard a play-by-play of their last game. “They’re going to do it this year,” he said to himself assuredly. “I just know it.”
As Lucian sat next to Connor in the truck, he wished that there was something he could do, something he could say, even if it involved Lucian scaring the living shit out of him.
Anything to prevent him from going to get more.
And part of Lucian knew that he shouldn’t torture himself with watching his brother’s decline; he should be active, out there trying to grow as strong as he possibly could. But at least he had an idea how he could do that, and it didn’t involve going after measly parasites any longer, not if he could help it.
As Lucian watched his brother drive erratically, he planned to meet with Yoshimi.
He had more questions for her, starting with how to locate other Deaths.
He also wanted to know more about the whole elixir business, and what she knew about their shared power. He didn’t sense that she would judge him for becoming a Death Hunter, and he didn’t plan to hunt much anyway, and even then, he only wanted to go after the ones that were hunting others.
A Death Hunter for Death Hunters.
There had to be a way for him to do this.
Connor pulled into a parking spot at the rundown apartment complex and reached into his pocket for his wallet.
He counted his cash.
Lucian didn’t know how he was still hiding the amount of money he was spending on his addiction. He figured Samantha would have noticed that there was money missing from their account.
Then again, maybe they didn’t have a shared account.
Connor folded several twenty-dollar bills and stuffed them in his pocket, away from the rest of the cash that was in his wallet. He pulled his hood over his head and stepped out of the truck, making a grunting noise as the cold slapped him in the face.
He found his way to the same door he always went to and knocked, a different guy opening up this time and waving him in.
This guy was much larger than Connor, which was saying something considering Connor was a pretty big man. The man had light brown skin, curly black hair, and he wore a black hooded sweater with stains on it, his hands tucked into the front pocket as he followed Connor over to the kitchen.
“Connor,” Kenny the dealer said from the table. Lucian instantly recognized the man with his shaved head and the face tattoo of a cross on his right temple.
“Hey,” Connor said.
“As I said, no hard feelings about what happened last time. That stuff is strong. That was my bad.”
“I told you it was cool,” Connor said under his breath. “How’s Tim doing, anyway?”
“Not great, but don’t worry about him. He’ll get better. Anyway, I got the shit you like, well, similar to the shit, but for real stronger than last time. You got to try this.”
Kenny took a pill bottle out from a drawer next to the table and reached for a small mirror. He shook half of a pill out of the bottle, and then cut it up with a razor, his dirty fingers contrasting with the whiteness of the pill.
“Have a taste. You know how I do,” Kenny said. “And like I told you, this shit isn’t like that last shit.”
“No,” Lucian said, watching as his brother sat down at the table and snorted up the pill that Kenny had chopped up for him.
Once he was finished, Connor took a deep, satisfying breath.
“Well?”
“It’s good, it’s really good,” Connor said on the exhale.
“Hell yeah, it is,” Kenny’s enforcer said, the big man standing near the two of them.
Their death dates wavered over their heads.
Name: Kenny Emerson
Date of Birth: 07/02/1986
Date of Death: 04/16/2037
Name: Nathan Ward
Date of Birth: 01/15/1990
Date of Death: 06/29/2056
Kenny gave the man named Nathan a look that told him to shut up, which he did immediately, turning his attention back to the door.
“I was just going to buy a few, but let me go ahead and…” Connor did the math in his head. “I have two hundred.”
“Okay, pills are normally thirty, but since you’re a repeat customer, I’ll throw in an extra. So seven for two hundred. We square?”
“Got it,” Connor said, as he reached into his pocket to get his cash. He also got his wallet out, adding to the balance.
The pills were exchanged and Connor saw himself out.
Once he was back in his truck, he pulled out his phone, just as their mother called. “Ma, I told you I was coming.”
“Jen is bouncing off the walls looking forward to seeing you,” his mother said, her voice now on speakerphone as Connor started to back out of the parking spot.
“Yeah, I’m happy to see her too, Ma.”
“Where are you? I thought you’d be here fifteen minutes ago. You have a job interview or something?”
“No, I don’t have a job interview; I’m just running behind, Ma. I needed to pick something up for Sam,” Connor said as he started to pull on to a side road. He braked hard, a Honda Accord speeding in front of him. “Fuck!”
“Hey, watch your language around your mother!”
“Sorry, Ma. This asshole cut me off. He almost clipped the front of my truck.”
“Language…”
“Sorry.”
“Pay attention,” Lucian said, boiling with rage now as he watched his brother finally pull onto the road, a little shaky behind the wheel.
He still didn’t know how to react to seeing Connor do drugs before going to pick up his daughter with the plan of driving back home with her in the truck.
It was just so…
“Fucked…” Lucian shook his head, feeling intense heat in his core.
He wanted to shake his brother at that moment, to choke him, to scream in his face and let him know what he was doing, what he had become.
That he was going to die.
But Lucian was absolutely powerless, and it was as damning as it was crushing.
Lucian thought about riding all the way to their mother’s house with Connor. He thought about waiting for Connor to pick up Jen, and tagging along with them for a while, just to make sure that Baby Jen was safe.
But there was literally nothing Lucian could do. Aside from killing the parasite that he now saw poking out of Connor’s shirt, one of its tendrils massaging the back of his brother’s head, all he could do was watch his brother’s decline.
His hand now trembling, Lucian pressed his thumb and pinky finger together, appearing on Katy’s rooftop.
He had to get away.
Lucian paused above Katy’s apartment for a moment, oblivious to the cold or the falling snow.
He co
uldn’t feel anything anyway, and if he could, he would just produce a thick jacket to keep warm.
It was that easy.
After a second to collect his thoughts, he dropped down into Katy’s apartment to find her sitting at the table, typing on a laptop. She wore glasses, and she had a notepad next to her.
He hovered over her for a moment, seeing that she was taking notes on a variety of things, from ways to cope with the loss of a loved one, to best practices for managing an estate.
Lucian smiled at her.
At least by removing the parasite that had been on her back, he had done her some good.
He knew that she wasn’t over the loss of her father, but at least the demon bug wasn’t feeding off her, his ex’s life trajectory in stark contrast to his brother’s.
Lucian watched her for a moment, wishing that he could somehow make his presence known. He knew that she would live a long time, and he vowed to periodically check on her, to make sure that she was doing okay.
While there wasn’t much he could do, if another demon bug ever came around, Lucian could rid her of the parasite.
It was the least he could do.
Lucian pressed his pinky and thumb together, his form swirling into shape on the beach in Portland.
He made his way to the right of the beach, up the winding cliff and to the bench that overlooked the sea, clumps of the island in the distance.
It was full-on snowing in Portland, and for once Lucian was glad that he couldn’t actually feel the weather, especially when a breeze picked up, one that would have been bitterly cold.
For a moment, Lucian simply floated in the air, at one with his thoughts, his deeds both good and bad, still adjusting to the role of Death.
His moment of recollection was interrupted when he saw a portal open up, Gaspard stepping out of it.
“Lucian,” the androgynous Death said, his hair in a tight topknot, his eyes full of disdain. The man’s dark robes swirled around him and then settled.
“Are you wearing eyeliner?”
“Excuse me?” Gaspard asked, his frown deepening.
“Do you always have to show up unannounced?”
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