“Okay.”
How does she know what I want to ask?
“Now you’re wondering how I know what you want to ask,” she grinned. “With my new responsibilities, I can see what’s in someone’s heart. Metaphysically speaking. Or is it metaphorically? I need to remember which one that is. Anyway, if it seems like I’m nosy it’s because I’m nosy. It’s part of my job description now, though I’m not supposed to share, really. But since I’ve been assigned to help you, and I trust you, I think it’s . . . what’s the matter?”
She didn’t need to sense my thoughts to know my feelings had taken a turn. I felt the features of my face change to a frown.
“After everything that happened, you still trust me?”
She put her arms around me. “Oh, Got. Of course I do. If you could see my thoughts, you’d know how happy I am. To you I was going away, but to Mom and Gran I was coming home. To me, things turned out the way they were supposed to. I wish you could see that.”
I wish I could too.
“You’d also know how much I appreciate what you’ve done for my father. He hasn’t felt this well in years. I know you’ll take good care of him. And I like the idea of a building with my name on it. I’ve never heard of a man doing that for a girl before.”
“Of course.”
“Thanks for using my maiden name.”
“Of course.”
“Oh! I can say ‘thank you’ all I want now. Did you know? I could walk right up to Mrs. Fergus and say thank you a million times and she wouldn’t have any claim on me.”
“That would be entertaining.”
“Since I can say it, thank you also for the pretty casket. And thank you for bringing me back from that awful Fuilasaem and making sure someone took care of me. And for doing something about Marcus. I definitely need to thank you for that, although I’m finding forgiveness comes easier for me now.”
“If you can forgive him, you should,” I replied.
“By the way, Mom likes you. Gran isn’t so sure.”
“Gran is obviously the wise one. Anyway, your mom’s the one named Faith. We’ll work on the Charity.”
Hope laughed and gave me another squeeze.
“Thank you for saving us, Hope. We’d all be dead without you. And the stone would be in Ur’s hands.”
Hope bounced on her toes some more. “Yup! You have great challenges ahead of you, Got. I’ll be watching. And I’ll give you what help I can.”
I waved crossed fingers at her. “Team Hope and Luck, back in the game. I have reason to be optimistic forever now. I won’t be going through life Hopelessly.”
“Oh, no. How long have you been saving that one?” Hope laughed.
“A long time.”
Hope tucked both lips between her teeth for a moment.
“What is it?” I asked.
“I want to tell you something. About Erin.”
“But you aren’t sure you should?”
“It concerns Blake too.”
“I guess I need to know all of it.”
“Okay. You can tell Erin about the first part but not the second part. But both parts are necessary.”
I turned my head to the side, feeling like a puppy hearing a sound for the first time. “Explain it to me and I’ll do what you say, if I can.”
Hope put her fingers together in front of her chin. “It’s a start. First, tell Erin that Blake is all right. He’s in Paradise now. He’s in good hands. The best. They’re helping him understand what happened to him and helping him know it wasn’t his fault. He did pass away five years ago, in the mortal measure of time. Everything that happened after that was someone else. The cambion. And Urlabhraí who employed necromancy to bring him back and got him tangled up with the Máithrín. You guessed right about all of that.”
“Erin will be happy to hear he’s in a better place.” I paused. “You know, we say that kind of thing all the time. This time it feels real.”
“Yes.” Hope smiled. Then turned serious. “You can’t tell Erin anything about what I’m going to say next. Promise? Trust me. You’ll understand in a minute.”
Hmm. If I made a promise to Hope to keep my source confidential, what could I say if Erin demanded to know how I found out?
Not worth worrying about.
Impetuous.
Go with the flow.
“I promise I won’t tell Erin.”
“Good!” Hope patted my shoulder. Or hit it. Repeatedly. With bony little fists. “The only reason this will sound like gossip is because it’s gossip. But you need to know. For months, ever since Blake came back, he hasn’t been able to be a husband for her.”
“Not a husband? As in . . .?”
“Sadly, yes. He’s barely kissed her, let alone anything more, um, matrimonial. She’s been very lonely.”
“She never said anything . . .”
“She hasn’t said anything to anyone. That’s why you have to keep it secret. Blake’s heart was taken by the Máithrín. She’d never permit another woman to have what she owned. The cambion would make sure of that. Burn all desire for anyone else out of him.”
Yikes.
“Anyway,” Hope continued, “Erin wanted you and I to get together so you wouldn’t be lonely, too. I think if she had love in her life she wouldn’t have sensed how much it was missing from yours. She was so unhappy, and it was killing her to see you unhappy, too. If we’d gotten together, she would have found some comfort in knowing you weren’t suffering in the same way. She could have continued waiting.”
“On the one hand, that’s the craziest thing I ever heard. On the other hand, that’s how I felt for her. I was okay with her and Blake being together if she needed to be with him, help him and love him. As long as he was doing the same for her.”
“Yeah. Well, she was never going to tell you any of this. So.” Hope got a gleam in her eye that was very much not angelic. Her smile was downright wicked.
Poor Erin. So much loyalty and commitment. Helping Blake but hiding a loveless marriage. So kind to him. So kind to me.
Hope punched me with her bony fist again. “Erin needs you, Got. She wants you. What are you waiting for?”
Oh boy.
I took off back down the path toward the castle.
“Remember,” Hope called. “You didn’t hear it from me!”
“I’ll remember!”
Again, I wished I could blink like I’d never wished for anything. I’d tried again and again. Bromach hadn’t blinked me to Marcus and the bomb. Ur certainly hadn’t. It must have been me, blinking myself. But I hadn’t been able to do it again. The castle was a mile away, sitting like a jeweled crown on the other side of the water. Why couldn’t I just be there?
I forced myself to walk instead of run. It would be one thing to have Erin see me out of breath. Quite a different thing to see me dripping with sweat.
Go with the flow.
I thought about Erin. All she had been through for me. Helping me in a dangerous plot to overthrow a criminal. Being clever when the chips were down.
The castle loomed larger in my view.
I thought about Hope. How much better I felt knowing she was in a good place, doing good things. This was a precious gift. As mortals, we rarely get the comfort of knowing where our loved ones go when their lives in the mortal realm are over. Hope shouldn’t have died, but I was finding myself able to make peace with the situation. And be grateful for the short blond girl trying to put Cupid out of a job.
I stormed the castle.
A lone warrior on a noble quest.
For once, I didn’t get lost.
Erin was sipping tea with Bromach. I hadn’t called him Wince for weeks. He’d proven himself to be my friend and he did so again. They both stood up as I entered the sitting room, obviously winded. There was a fire in the fireplace and a tray with cakes on the table. Bromach started to say something, but I looked at Erin, and he gave a small bow and left.
He may have shifted.
; “Hello, Oh!” Erin said as I took her face in my hands and kissed her. It was probably silly but I picked her up and cradled her in my arms.
Impetuous.
“Oh.” Erin said again. She didn’t question my picking her up and I was happy to see a certain light kindling in her eyes.
From here, my chambers—our chambers—were up a flight of stairs and down a long hallway. I carried Erin up the stairs like she was an angel, all light and glory, her arms around my neck, kissing me. There were guards in the hall and they stood at attention, not sure if they should bow or pretend they didn’t see us.
Erin made a little sound.
“Are you all right?” I asked.
“Walk faster,” she said.
Author’s Note
Much of what Got goes through learning to ride a horse comes from my own experience. I almost didn’t learn to ride for real based on the experience I had at a neighbor’s house when I was ten years old. Based on the life expectancy of Shetland ponies, however, that particular deamhan ceased ruining birthday parties sometime around 2002. Thankfully, I had my own far more rewarding Peachfuzz experience a few years later.
With years of work as a magician, inventing and performing tricks and illusions, it’s fun for me to turn those rusting skills into scams and dodges for Got to play with. They’re fun for him too.
I also have some direct experience with professional sports teams and cheerleaders and the behind-the-scenes activities at a stadium. That said, I didn’t check for one hundred percent accuracy regarding the specific security, standards, or activities for any sports organizations mentioned. The events in Got Hope are not a reflection nor a comment on any team’s performance, staff, or facility. This is a writer’s version of fantasy football. I made stuff up.
There is no actual Stock Street in Miami, which is probably for the best.
When I started writing Got Hope, I had spent many hours over a period of years giving service to the residents of the Alzheimer’s center located in our neighborhood. In many ways, it is a joy to spend time with these patients, although as a writer it’s discouraging that I can’t ask them about their lives, which would yield incredible stories if only they could articulate them. Alzheimer’s is the sixth leading cause of death in the United States and the only disease in the top ten that currently can’t be prevented, cured, or even slowed. Just weeks before the release of Got Hope, our family was devastated by the news that my father-in-law had been diagnosed with Alzheimer’s, its effect accelerated by bone cancer. It’s been a challenge to see dementia stealing, bit-by-bit, his memories and wit and personality. On good days, at least, those pieces we know and love come to the surface, if only briefly. I’m so grateful for the many years previous when I was blessed by his example, counsel, and—of course—his stories.
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Acknowledgements
The first and possibly most important thanks must go to the readers of Got Luck. Thank you for taking a chance on a first novel, and embracing it so enthusiastically. Your support, your reviews, and your comments are appreciated a million much! You embraced Got despite his human foibles—or perhaps because of them—and that means I get to write another tale from the Behindbeyond. You are the reason I write. (Insert appropriate Bryan Adams song here.)
As always, a huge thank you to my beta darlings, who provided wonderful insights in the early drafts and weren’t shy about letting me know what worked and what didn’t. To my Shaunabella, Carrie Held, Kayla Echols, and Dalice Peterson: my sincerest gratitude. Special recognition to Mandi Diaz, who needs to know that her editing skills are the stuff of legend, and to Callie Stoker, who made sure I got Hope off on the right foot. I appreciate you all.
The more I learn about writing, the hungrier I am to learn more. Many thanks to the authors who have gone out of their way to not only share their gifts, but have taken time to help me directly and personally. Maxwell Alexander Drake, Angie Fenimore, Michael Sheen, John D. Brown, K. Scott Forman, Michaelbrent Collings, J. Scott Savage, Johnny Worthen, and the inimitable Paul Genesse: your time is valuable and whether you had a little or a lot to spare, it is remembered warmly and gratefully.
“Doey” of Ireland continues to be my angel of Gaelic pronunciation. She’s funny and brilliant and everything always sounds better when she says it. Thank you to Ken Wade for reviewing Taoism with me. Thanks to Vince Campanile who explained some of the finer points of handguns. Thanks also to the lady behind the pharmacy counter who answered my impromptu questions about anti-psychotic drugs. She probably had orders to fill in the back of the pharmacy, but there was nobody in line behind me so she was stuck putting up with my questions. She graciously dispensed knowledge and patience in equal doses.
Finally, thank you to the editors and designers at Future House Publishing, Emma Hoggan, CreelaBelle Howard, Brittany Casselman, and Hannah M. Earl. You make me look good because you are outstanding. Thanks to Zachary Strickland for keeping Got marketable. To the best art director anywhere, Jeff Harvey, thanks for delivering another amazing cover and excellent grace notes. To Jonathan Diaz, I’ll always be grateful that you “got” Got. And to Adam Sidwell, many thanks for creating a home where authors not only publish, but flourish.
About the Author
Michael Darling is an award-winning author, playwright, and performer who finds fantasy, science fiction, horror, and comedy to be one big playground. He lives in the spectacular Rocky Mountains with his wife and six guinea pigs, one of whom thinks she’s a dog, and three of whom claim to be children.
Frequently anthologized, Michael’s short stories run the gamut of speculative fiction, and his stories often include characters and settings from the Behindbeyond universe.
Michael’s #1 best-selling first novel, Got Luck, was published in March 2016. Details about the Behindbeyond series and Michael’s other projects can be found at www.michaelcdarling.com.
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