by M. K. Gibson
“I am,” the vampire agreed.
“But are you faster than light?”
“Wha--”
The red energy beam from Lydia’s soul gun ripped through my sport coat and bored a hole the side of a quarter straight through Wendell’s heart. Unsure about vampire physics in The Bliss, I fired several more shots, piercing his nose, eyes, and forehead. If he was somehow alive—well . . . still undead—seeing and smelling me would be a problem.
“Wendy?” Evie said as the big man toppled over beside her.
“I’m sorry, sweetie,” I told her. “I’ll pay for all the therapy it’ll take for you to understand that Wendy was a bad man who was going to hurt you and Daddy.”
“I understand,” she said. “He was a meanie.”
“Yes sweetness, he was.”
“Can we go home now?” she asked. “I miss Mommy.”
“In a moment. Why don’t you go get Mr. Bone Jangles? Daddy has to do something before we go.”
“Okay.”
With her distracted, I fired several more shots into Wendell while trying to hide the weapon discharge noise by coughing. While it didn’t really work, she ignored me and continued her search . . . as if my executing a would-be assailant were the norm.
Sigh. Yeah . . . lots of therapy.
From across The Bliss, I heard war horns, sirens, klaxons, and every other realm-appropriate signal method. The word was out: The Shadow Master was nearby. And it appeared that all the invaders, spurred on by their respective deities, were headed this way. In moments, we would be surrounded. If Evie and I were going to get to our portal, we needed a distraction.
Well, time to do what I do best. Be me.
“Morakesh?”
“Yes Mr. Blackwell, I’m here.”
“Can you transmat the contents of locker X-113 and G-92?”
“Sure thing. They’re on their way.”
The items appeared at my feet and I picked them up, inspecting each one in turn. One was a simple yet very powerful pistol-grip, wrist-brace-style slingshot. The others were four fist-sized glass ampules of a viscous, clear fluid.
“What is in the ampules, may I ask?” Morakesh said. “The description only read ‘Handle with care. Clear the area if broken’.”
“The distraction I need to get us out of here,” I said, loading the first ampule into the slingshot.
While the zeppelins were over two hundred feet off the ground, the range of a thirty-dollar slingshot from Amazon is actually quite remarkable. From the cover within the copse of trees, I drew back the slingshot’s pouch, sighted the first of the large zeppelins, and released the payload. The spherical ampule sailed through the sky and a moment later shattered against the dirigible’s hull.
“You see, my first love was the fantasy realms,” I told Morakesh while taking aim with the second ampule. “Just call me a nerd, I suppose. Well, not you, obviously. But the point I’m trying to make is that I studied many things about the fantasy realms. People, culture, animals, everything.”
“Why?” Morakesh asked.
“Because every piece of information is a weapon, when used in the correct situation,” I explained.
Releasing the ampule, I was satisfied to see it shatter on the second zeppelin. I repeated the process with the final two ampules, striking both of the remaining vehicles. I wanted to pat myself on the back for my marksmanship. But one, I hurt too badly to do so. And two, they were pretty large, and therefore not hard to hit. If I congratulated myself on easy tasks, then I would be no better than every sow back in the real world who got free drinks from a horny man.
Or worse, those who demanded a party for making a baby.
Like I said in my last recorded adventure, easy tasks are not celebration-worthy. Get your advanced degree, defeat an archenemy, or insert a USB correctly ten out of ten times, and I’ll honor your accomplishments.
“So, that fluid is something you studied?” Morakesh asked.
“Oh. Oh yes,” I said, forcing myself to pay attention once more. “That is part of a reproductive study I conducted many years ago. I never got it quite right as each study turned into complete chaos and bedlam due to the sheer ferocity of the subject matter.”
“Which was?”
Before I could answer, a roaring screech split the evening sky. Then another and another. Seconds later a titanic creature slammed into the first zeppelin, ripping and slashing. Then more of the massive winged and scaled beasts appeared, looking for the same thing as the first, all of them roaring in defiance and challenge.
“Oh,” Morakesh said. “I see.”
“Yes, dragons are extremely sensitive to pheromones,” I explained. “And during their mating rituals, the males are amazingly aggressive.”
“And since there isn’t a female dragon present?”
In answer to Morakesh’s question, the first of the zeppelins exploded into a massive fireball, lighting up the darkening sky. Oh, the humanity.
The dragons on instinct fought each other out of frustration, while others sky-fucked the remaining zeppelins into the ground, resulting in additional fiery destruction.
“Horny dudebros do as horny dudebros do, when no women are around, regardless of species,” I said with half a shrug. “Come on, Evie, this is no scene for a child. It’s time to go home.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
Where Therapy Is Needed, I Reaffirm My Commitment to Fatherhood, and an Alarm Sounds
The next eighty-ish miles were quite boring by comparison. Considering the impromptu dragon orgy and ensuing fiery bloodbath, our trip across The Bliss was somewhat humdrum.
There was a brief encounter with a choir of celestials, where they swooped down with their fiery swords. Thankfully for us, a cohort of Never Realm demons had the same idea, only they flew in on their batlike wings from the other direction. Once the two flocks of freaking fools saw one another—well, let’s just say nature took its course.
In the skirmish between those who covet souls and those who guard them, we slipped away on The Soul Taker unscathed. I’d like to think it was an allegory for the modern take on theists versus atheists. Meaning, neither really care for the individual, but rather desire to be more virtuous than their respective opponent. But I was too tired to care. So like all people who just prefer to live a normal life free of guilt and excessive temptation, we just moved off and let the zealots kill each other.
Oh, there was a fun moment when this small squadron of those jets you see in a lot of science fiction appeared. You know, the ones that transform into thirty-foot-tall humanoid mechs. Anyway, they flew by and dropped some concussion bombs on us.
Now, I can see why that might be confusing, seeing as I called the encounter “fun.”
But you see, the concussion bombs threw Evie and me from the swoop bike. Morakesh, being on the ball, managed to transmat Evie’s jumbo-sized bouncy house just in time. So instead of landing in a broken heap, we instead landed in her purple and black evil queen playhouse.
The jets rocketed by and banked hard, coming around for a second pass. The beautiful thing about those anime-style jets is that they like to display their flashy weapons. So as they came back towards us, I simply fired off a few rounds at the jets, striking the missiles and cluster rockets under their wings. The resulting explosion lit up the night as all three jets turned into burning fireballs.
“Pretty!” Evie said.
I shot her a sideways glance. In my head I was already calculating the ever-growing therapy bills.
Sure, I was a villain. And it was a pretty sight. But several Roy Foker, Rick Hunter, and Max Sterling wannabes just died. And there she was. Unfazed.
Maybe I was a bad influence? Maybe I should keep her away from my business? You know, let a kid be a kid? You don’t get childhood back. My own trials though youth were fairly complex, what with my parents discovering, capturing, and exploiting a djinn—an event that led to their downfall. My father died quickly while my mother suffered a long time.
>
And there I was, in a place where no mortal was meant to be, hunted because of my own villainous pursuits. To Evie, it was a game. And to be honest, before Evie, it had been a game to me as well. Fatherhood changed that. There were stakes I could no longer live with. Consequences for my actions I could no longer consider acceptable.
If I burned out and died rich, powerful, and beautiful, so be it.
Just like Lydia.
We knew what we signed on for. We were adults who entered our contract of villainy willingly. We knew the risks and deemed them acceptable.
But not Evie. She was born into a world of my making. And my sins were now her nightmares. She was simply too insulated by youth to realize the danger we were in. Gods above and below, the danger we were always in. There honestly hadn’t been a time in my adult life as the Shadow Master where there hadn’t been some coup, assassination, hostile takeover, or plot to destroy me.
Well, that would change. Now. When we got back to the Prime Universe, she would become my main focus. I vowed, right then, to take my businesses legitimate.
I mean, I still wanted to be stinking rich. But maybe I could take up a hobby? Hmm . . . Jackson Blackwell . . . woodworker? Decoupage?
Screw it. I’d think of something. The point was, I had to get us home first. I held her hand and led her out of the bouncy house.
“No more bike?” Evie said.
Turning, I saw that some of the falling wreckage from the jet-mechs had destroyed The Soul Taker. Damn it.
“Morakesh, could you send me another ride?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Blackwell,” the lich said. “It seems Ms. Sophia is on to us now. She’s locked out all transmats of individual items. The good mistress’s bouncy house was the last thing I could send.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“Sadly, I shit you not, Mr. Blackwell. But according to these readings, you’re not far from your portal. In fact, it’s just under a mile? So, silver linings?”
I was about to unleash a prepared rant about how the concept of silver linings was the tent-pole argument for the ever mediocre. But something else demanded my attention. Something far worse.
“Look, Daddy!” Evie said. “Mr. Bone Jangles has friends!”
Looking up, I saw the horde slowly shambling towards us. Attracted by the light of the fire and noise of the explosion, the small army of undead plodded directly for us.
“Zombies,” I said, shaking my head. It was no secret about my feelings for the low-hanging fruit of bad storytelling. But there they were.
“The gods hate me,” I muttered.
“They really do,” Morakesh said. “Looks like you weren’t removed from certain godly distros. There’s an email chain here where they are making a lot of fun of you and the situation.”
“Figures,” I said.
“And they are all taking bets on which one of them will be the one who claims you.”
“Fat chance,” I sneered, then fired off a few shots with the laser, putting down the zombies.
No need to run if I had a gun with basically endless bullets. I could bring down the entire horde, no problem.
“Well, they keep saying you only have minutes until they come for you.”
“What? Oh . . . oh shit.”
I quickly pulled out the pocket watch. He was right. I had only minutes until I was no longer protected by the Blessing of the One. And when that was over, the gods themselves could come for me directly.
Shit shit double dare physical challenge shit!
Well, there only one thing I could do. With a deep sigh of regret and more than a single swallow of my pride, I picked up Evie, turned tail . . .
. . . and ran.
********
Huffing and puffing, I trudged the final hundred yards or so. While I consider myself in shape, the lack of godly power, coupled with my smoking habit and carrying my daughter, took its toll on me. The zombie horde followed us the entire way, never slowing, never tiring.
Okay. I get it now. They’re dangerous. Happy?
As we crested a hill, the base of a lone mountain stood in the distance. There, atop what looked like a stone stage carved into the side of the mountain, was an intricate circular portal that was easily fifty feet across. The portal to the Prime Universe glowed like a beacon, illuminating the land. I could feel the energy of the portal. It beckoned me home.
I was ragged and exhausted. I was pushed beyond my physical and mental limits. But with only a few more steps to take until I was home, I could do it.
There was a comfortable calmness. Reaching the end of the road had a peaceful sense of finality. Despite the slowly advancing zombie horde, I felt . . . good.
And that was when the watch’s alarm sounded.
The tone was simple. Just a subtle beeping chime. Like a pleasant wake-up alarm on a cell phone. But the ramifications of the simple alarm sounded louder than a war horn.
One by one they appeared beside and in front of the portal home.
Valliar and Khasil. Y’ollgorath. Dmitrius and Branwen. Executivita and King Stanley. The High Fairy Toodleboots and The Lady of the Lake. More and more gods materialized, each of them bearing some sort of grudge against me.
And there, in the center, stood Sophia Rose Devrille. The djinn of my heart and my ultimate undoing. She smiled at me. Despite being less than a hundred yards away and it being night, I somehow saw her, all of them, clear as day.
I held my daughter tighter. “It will be all right.”
“I believe in you, Daddy,” she whispered back.
“It’s the end of the line, Jackson,” Sophia called out. “This night, the world will no longer suffer the mortal usurper who dared call himself the Shadow Master.”
Chapter Forty-Eight
Where I Drop It Like It’s Hot, Bare My Soul, and Say Goodbye
Less than a hundred yards. That’s all it was. At walking speed, just over a minute separated Evie and me from safety. If I were an Olympic athlete, or still a god, I could be there with only a ten-second sprint.
But there were gods in my way. The narcissistic rulers of their respective worlds. The gods who hated that a mortal like me did more than they ever could. Like all lesser beings, they saw anything greater than them as wrong. They saw me as a challenge to their power.
And they were right. In my time as a god, I did challenge them.
And I fucking won.
But those days were gone. I was a father now. And I just wanted to take my daughter home.
“Move,” I demanded.
Laughter. The smug pricks just laughed at me.
“No,” Valliar called out. “Not this time.”
“Sorry, true believer,” King Stanley said. “This ends now. We need to send the multiverse a message.”
“Oh come on,” I yelled. “Not too long ago Valliar conspired against all of you. For fuck’s sake, Branwen, he double crossed you and killed Hermov.”
“And he failed,” she said, not seeming to care. “It’s what we gods do.”
“And you,” Executivita said, “are no longer a god.”
“You, and your whole realm of Harrowing Banality Ordeals, is overrated,” I told her. “Premium universes are failing because newer and better streaming universes are giving the souls of the Prime Universe more entertainment than you ever could.”
“Jackson,” Sophia said, shaking her head. “It’s over. There is no talking your way out of it. Morakesh cannot send you any weapon or item of aid. Even your little soul gun is gone.”
Instinctively my hand went to the weapon and found only Evie’s drawing. With The Blessing of The One removed, so with it went my last connection to Lydia. And I never got to say goodbye one last time.
No. Not the last connection. There was another.
I looked at Evie in my arms. She smiled at me.
“Do you trust me?” I asked her.
“Yes, Daddy.”
“Good girl,” I told her and kissed her forehead. “No matter
what happens, no matter how this plays out, remember that daddy always loves you.”
I set her down, then shrugged off the tattered remnants of my sport coat. I unbuttoned my ripped dress shirt and threw it to the ground. I flexed my arms, crisscrossing them.
“What are you doing, Jackson?” Sophia asked.
“Gods, I, Jackson Blackwell, address you now,” I said, ignoring her. “I make you this offer. The first one of you to defeat me in physical combat, using no godly power, can have my soul.”
A murmur went through the gathered deities. That got their attention.
“We can just take you now,” Branwen said.
“True, you can. But I will willingly give you my soul. Imagine the heights your universes can reach with me on your team. Collectively, you all hate me. Individually, all of you have used my services because you know what I can do. If you take and torture me, you’ll have some modicum of revenge, that is true. But imagine what you could do if I came willingly! I only demand you fight me as mortals. Regardless of the outcome, Evelyn Blackwell goes free. She returns to the Prime Universe to be raised by my sister Paige Blackwell. What do you say?”
“No!” Sophia said. “It’s a trick!”
“Silence, djinn,” Y’olly said. “The Never Realm could use him. As my servant, I’ll reach the ninth circle in no time.”
“No,” The Lady of the Lake said. “With him, I can set up the rise and falls of great nations.”
“I had his body before,” Branwen said. “And now I will claim his soul.”
Each of the gods began walking towards me. They shrugged off their individual power, keeping just enough to turn on the other gods when the time presented itself. Sophia tried hard to stop them, pulling on whomever and whatever she could to keep them from coming for me. She screamed for them to stop, but they refused to listen. I was too tempting a prize.
I held up my fists in an en garde position. “Come on,” I hissed, narrowing my eyes and baring my teeth.
The gods continued to march on me. From atop the hill, I watched them come. Sophia still screamed that it was a trap. The gods, in their arrogance at seeing a half-naked mortal man begging for a fistfight, ignored her.