by A L Hart
“What is this place . . .” Niv asked. Her voice, it sounded clearer. Less . . . crazy. As if the pieces of her mind had finally clicked together. “Is this . . . Skashora?” I heard her boots crunching in dirt as she stepped away from us.
“Niv, just wait,” I said as if I could protect her when my sight returned.
“I remember,” she murmured. “I remember this place. I remember . . . them.”
My brows creased. She remembered? The Shatters was supposed to assert a price that was of despair, bad, not good. So why would it give her her memory back—unless whatever she returned to, the Shatters needed her to remember.
Gradually, my sight came to. In came the tell-tale purple skies, the fields of high blue grass, and even the wall of Skashora. But the estate, the structure compiled of homes conjoined—was nothing more than dust. Large heaps of grey ash piled near the wall, some of it blowing out into the grass, lost. There wasn’t a faery-giant in sight.
My blood ran cold. The unseelie? Had they come while we were gone? It would have been easy to believe it was a coordinated ambush were it not for the utter demolition of the faery-giant’s estate.
No, this was something larger, a devastating force of nature.
“What happened here?” Niv whispered, falling to her knees in a grey powder that seemed to coat the entire scent of rubble and destruction.
“I don’t know—”
The sound of a slow applause resounded throughout the settled ash. There, standing in the midst of the tragedy, stood Jinxy.
“How unfortunate that you would come at this time,” he spoke, voice a low rumble, caught between adolescence and maturity. His hair was as golden as it been out in the Hallowgrounds, if not more, his eyes sparking a bright flare to rival the sun. “I mean, truly, had I known there’d be guest, I’d have cleaned up a bit.” He chuckled softly. “To be honest, I’m a bit embarrassed.”
“What did you do?” I said breathlessly.
“Is it not obvious?” he asked genuinely. “I did what I failed to do before. I eliminated the faery-giants.”
Ch. 14
“You . . .” Niv came to her feet, the hatred in her eyes outshining the emeralds, casting them into an ethereal glow, the magic around her sparking the air in tempo with her fury.
Jera took a step back, which in my book, meant I needed to take five steps back—yet I couldn’t. I couldn’t tear my eyes from the ashes stretching into eternity. I couldn’t rid my head of the servants who’d been banking everything on my return to lift the curse.
A curse I hadn’t been sure of how to rid of and would now never get the chance to.
“You must know, it was nothing personal, their demise.” Jinxy stepped forward, sandaled feet hushing through the grey flakes, his eyes having yet to leave mine. “A mere oversight on my part is what it was. I promised the Unseelie the demise of the giants’ race in exchange for their loyalty. I’d thought the curse would suffice, but when my copy relayed to me their persistence, I simply had to rectify it.”
“You killed them all.” Those trapped in an eternal slumber and those of who’d been waiting for me. Neer, Valen.
“I have you to thank, Peter. Skashora was cloaked by a glamour even I missed and had it not been for the lovely two mages who’d spilled everything without hesitation, I’d have never found it.”
No . . .
“You truly should have had the giants kill them. Mercy gets you nowhere here—or did you not teach him this, Jera?”
She said nothing. She was studying Niv and Jinxy, likely looking for the first opportunity to detain the male—or maybe she was as stumped as I was by the sight before her, how otherworldly and unexpectedly . . . angelic Jinxy appeared.
“They were my family,” Niv whispered now, her height growing by the second, the magic increasing with it. “For years it has been my goal to free them from the terrible curse.”
“Ah, yes, I can see where your frustration might stem,” Jinxy said with feigned sincerity. “But there are more important things at play than your proud race of giants. For instance: my goals!”
“Niv—don’t!” Jera reached for Niv, but the faery had already taken off at a dead run, an incantation on her tongue, the air shifting and conforming to the spell she wove.
“Tsk, tsk.” Jinxy wagged a finger. “Don’t be naughty.” He snapped his fingers.
I watched then as my friend was running one moment, her hatred an entity in and of itself, and the next moment, she exploded. Chunks of her, a red spray of blood, all went flying, painting the remaining walls of the estate. Her magic, it died in an instant, the pricks I typically felt dying, signifying her life. All that the faery-giant was made up of, was erased.
Gone. Forever.
“No!”
Fury had me moving. I wasn’t thinking. The sudden long swords in my hands, I couldn’t remember calling them forward. There was a depth opening in my chest, emotions collapsing into it, suffocating me, my rationality. I caught onto Jinxy’s dark energy without pause and pulled. No regard for preserving him, disregarding the fact he had Lia’s body, even if he’d taken to his actual image.
No, in that moment, I was sure: I could kill him—would kill him.
And he must have seen this on my face, because his smile vanished, even if the arrogant disregard remained.
I could hear Jera telling me to come back.
Jinxy was strong. Anybody, anything that could slaughter an entire race and destroy a faery with just the snap of a finger, wasn’t an opponent I could face and win. That was what the logical side of me dictated, but the part that recognized that as I ran, my feet dashed through the ashes of those I’d spoken to but days ago, the blood splatter of the most confused and once—in her own way—innocent faery, that part didn’t care.
I drained as much as his energy as I could, and with it, the moment he lunged for me, I vanished, appeared behind him and made to drive the sword home in his back.
He was faster, much faster. There one moment and gone the next.
A chuckle sounded behind me. “Almost.”
I whirled.
Jinxy was gone. “Over here.”
I teleported to where I sensed his energy, staying in tune with it. But no matter how much I drained, he moved as if invincible to it. Maybe he was. In which case . . .
When I sensed him behind me, rather than try to drive the sword home, I focused on his dark energy network. If I could control dark energy—could I break it apart? Could I decompose the energy?
I switched tactics. Rather than drain his energy, I focused on ripping it apart, scattering it into useless particles.
“Interesting,” I heard him say, and then he was standing directly in front of me, gazing up at me with fearlessness, fascination, the detachment of a sociopath. This close, I saw the metallic bronze flecks of his irises, the faded blue ring surrounding his pupil. Inhuman in every way. “You’re very much like Father. That being so, I’d love to play just a little longer, but I have things to do. But perhaps we can play some more next time, when I’m done?”
A laugh bubbled over, that forever amused smile stretching across his face, and then behind him, the rubble of the faery-giants’ estate rippled. It was just like it’d been at the shop, a dark hole manifesting behind him, the aperture enlarging, until it was almost twice his size.
With a wink, he stepped backwards into the portal, hand to his mesh of blond locks. Saluting me.
He wasn’t going to get away. Not again, not after what he did.
Just as Jera had done days ago, I couldn’t stop myself. I teleported to Jera faster than I ever had before, wrapped her in my arms, then back to the portal.
I leapt through, not caring where it led me. I would find him. And when I did, I would put an end to him by any means necessary.
Ch. 15
On the other side, I didn’t waste time wondering where I was, what waited for me. Instinctually, I made to track Jinxy’s energy, reluctant to lose him again after Tathri h
ad warned me how elusive he could be. But there was nothing, not a trace, not a spark. Only Jera’s low, wilting energy threads.
“Peter,” she said flatly.
Only then did I come down to reality, assess my surroundings.
We were in the coffee shop's bedroom. It was daytime, the blinds open, and down below, I could hear the bustle of the shop, the ring of the downstairs bell signifying the patrons milling in and out.
I held Jera in my arms.
Too tightly, I realized, releasing her, but once the contact was severed, it all came flooding in. The anger, regret, my own incompetence. I’d lost her. Niv. All of them. And they’d only been found because of the mages I’d insisted Valen and Neer let live. Which meant they’d kept their word on not to harm them—yet I hadn’t kept mine. Not at the heart of it. I hadn’t brought their daughter home. I’d doomed their home.
And Jinxy had gotten away. I’d had him right in front of me and I’d . . . I’d failed.
I looked at the clock on the dash, 10:59 in the morning. Time, I was running out of it. How many lives had been lost from the one useless day I’d spent in the Shatters? How many more humans infected?
I yanked the clock free and threw it across the room as if I could destroy the concept of time, make it stand still the way it was wont when I was in danger. Though it clashed and broke apart against the wall, the truth remained.
All these abilities, all these things I could do that ultimately protected myself yet I couldn’t protect those I wanted. What was the point in having these gifts if they were ultimately useless towards my true end goal?
“Peter, you have to calm down,” Jera said, gripping my arms. I was trembling and inside, I couldn’t wrangle back the disjointed swarm of my energy.
“I have to find him,” I whispered.
The bedroom vanished.
Another appeared. Niv’s. Her paintings lay scattered about the room in her typical disorderly fashion, unfinished yet beautiful all the same. There was no trace of Jinxy, only a magical tinge to the air as if her essence had been etched in this room beneath the club.
The room vanished.
Another appeared. The Sanctuary’s, the one Jera and I had originally slept in. It was as grand and overly luxurious as I recalled, cleaned, dark and sleek. I crossed the floors and threw the doors open. The place was massive, the halls going on forever.
“Where are you going?” Jera came after me, grabbing my hand and attempting to stop me, but her superhuman strength was gone.
“To find Inoli.”
I teleported us to the study, where the dark elf didn’t look at all surprised to see us. If anything, it appeared as if she expected us. Which was great, because I was across the study in a flash. “Where is he?”
Dressed in another of her elaborate gowns of long sleeves, rubbing the bells at her ears absentmindedly, she looked me over with those fogged, white eyes, before saying gently, “I advise you not go after this, Peter.”
“You know what he did,” I sneered, unable to rid of the ashes in my head. “You know what he did to her.” And this elf of foresight was the only one I knew that could predict his location, seeing as Tathri was MIA.
“Peter, your job is to patch up the gateways, nothing more.”
I slammed my hands on the desk she sat at. “I need the blood of all Imperial Beasts regardless, Inoli! And Jinxy happens to want to destroy both his world and ours, so the gateway? Not my problem right now. You’ve seen what he can do. Do you really want that thing running loose?”
Through the bond, I felt the slightest hitch and glanced behind me at Jera who refused to meet my eyes then.
I frowned, having forgotten this was still Ophelia to her, and hearing such a brazen disregard for Jinxy and plot against his life . . .
She shook her head. “No, you’re right,” she whispered, the pain a palpable thing. “That thing . . . it’s not Lia. She never would have done something so terrible.” Even as she said this, I saw the battle she waged within, how much it hurt to admit to the truth.
Jinxy had to be stopped, and the best way to do that was to rid of him the quickest, most effective way possible. Which meant ending the vessel he insisted to cling to for his own morbid agenda.
I looked back to Inoli. “Tell me where he is. We can stop him.”
“Your succubus is powerless and hanging on her last breath, whether she shows it or not.”
“I will stop him.”
“Peter, you can’t—”
“I will. I have to. I . . .” I had to justify all the blood on my hands. I had to make it right before it got worse. Before we all reached an irreparable point where the devastation was so great, there was no point in attempting to fix anything. “Just tell me where he is, I’m begging you.”
She watched me a moment, then sighed. “I’ve seen how this plays out, Peter. If you go—”
“Will Jera die?” was my only concern.
She shook her head.
“Will I?”
She shook her head again.
“Then tell me. Whatever terrible thing that happens after, so be it. But for now, I have to stop him, Inoli. I can’t let him get away with this.”
She nodded, her glassy eyes portraying nothing, only her words as she entrusted, “He’s at the old steel mill warehouse in your town. He’s waiting for you.”
Good, I wouldn’t keep him waiting long.
“Peter, please remember what he is. Their clairvoyance is uncanny and he is a creature of games. You cannot trust him or think to outsmart him. But most of all, you must remember there are worst things than death. And don’t—”
I teleported to Jera, then the outside of the warehouse. It stood just as I remembered it, ancient but sturdy. Bricks greyed from the weather, no other buildings around it save for a few wind turbines which sat still just then.
“Peter, Inoli was right. I’m powerless and if we’re to do this, we have to be smart about it.”
I gave a tight nod, stepping back from the double wood doors and expecting the many darkened windows of the building. I could sense him inside, his energy like a lighthouse beacon.
“I just need to get close to him. Trust me.”
She looked to me. “It’s wiser to trust no one.”
“Except, we can trust each other, right?”
After a moment, she said, “I suppose. What are we going to do? Tathri said he can create a copy of himself and that if we kill it, it should take him an hour before he can generate another. It should significantly slow him down.”
“Before, I tried reaching into his dark energy and decomposing it. It seemed to have some kind of effect, but if everything works out. It shouldn’t come to that.”
She didn’t ask questions, only held her hand out for a weapon. I made the blade as close to the one I’d seen her wield as possible then handed it off. She may have lost her speed, fire and strength, but combat was still second nature to her.
Again, I hoped it didn’t come down to that.
We faced the doors together and with one kick, they opened with relative ease, flying back and hitting the walls, palls of dust seeping out into the sultry daytime.
Before I could step foot into the warehouse, I felt the whip of wind breeze past me with blinding speed, and when I looked beside me, Jera was gone.
I raced into the warehouse then, the space abandoned, cobwebs running the length of it. Iron railings dangled precariously from the ceiling, stacks of old planks settled off in the corner, and at the center of the room, Jera face off with Ophelia—or a copy of Jinxy.
Jinxy who stood before me just then, that same coy curl to his lips as he regarded me.
My anger and insatiable rage rekindled—only to die with his next words.
“Do you truly wish to fight me?”
I took another step forward, contemplating my plan of attack.
“Because it would be a shame,” he said. “Considering you are the same as me, and truly, we ought not fight.”
I stopped cold, peering at him through the hazy lighting. “What did you say?”
“Oh, forgive me, did Tathri leave that part out of his little tale? The part where you’re one of us—an Imperial Beast?”
Ch. 16
“Don’t listen to him, Peter,” Jera grated, facing off with the copy.
But I couldn’t stop myself. I needed to know, needed to finally have understanding, and what he was saying . . . it made sense. Perfect sense.
“My birth,” I wondered. “I have birth certificates. I know my parents.”
Jinxy tilted his head, golden eyes blazing, melting into amber as he regarded me studiously. “You do not understand our father at all, do you? You do not understand he is without limitations. A being who called himself into existence—” A chortle, hand covering curling lips as the laugh became effervescent. “You do not think he could have willed you to be born of such a human couple?”
My mouth worked, words failing, thoughts colliding into more confusion as I considered the mere idea. The Maker, as his final deed before sentencing himself to an eternal slumber, made one last fragment. One last piece of himself he deemed good.
“One last piece of himself he deemed good,” Jinxy agreed, guessing my thoughts. “And why, you may be wondering. Why would he do such a thing—was it a meaningless bout of insanity? Vanity, a want for his image to never fade? Or was it a mistake, like myself?” The beast prowled back and forth, gaze locked with mine and the more I stared into their golden depths, the more lost I became in this world itself, sure of nothing.
“No, no, Peter. He made you with one hope in mind: that someday you would fix all in which he’d broken. And what. A. Fantastic. Job you’ve done! What was the body count again? Five hundred thousand and climbing?”
“Their lives were never yours to protect, Peter,” Jera said in warning, still circling and watching the copy who wore Ophelia’s face. “You did what you could.”
Her words, I heard them, but the truth of the matter was louder—I’d done nothing at all. All of those lives lose, had I been more adamant, persistent—had I been what Tathri and Graves expected me to be, would the body count have been lower? Would it not have existed at all?