Shadow of a Doubt

by Hunter Blain

  My fury subsided. I was attacking Locke as a means of distraction, and he didn’t deserve it. I looked at the ground in my shame and anguish.

  “Do you know where they could be?” I asked while squeezing my eyes shut, knowing it was a long shot.

  “No,” Locke said, shattering my hope. “But I know who took them.”

  My eyes shot open to meet Locke’s as I barked out, “Who?!”

  “His name is Ludvig Mansson, and he is truly terrifying.”

  “What kind of stupid name is Ludvig?” I asked, hating whatever name Locke would have given.

  “He’s a Swedish supernatural hunter who’s more than proficient at what he does. Be careful, John. He’s adept against many foes. Many of the few remaining supes in the region have gone missing.”

  “Where can I find this Swedish meatball?”

  “I’d suggest watching the news and getting ahead of any stories about humans being killed in particularly gruesome ways. He is sure to be hunting the few supes that didn’t flee to Faerie.”

  “I don’t have time for that,” I said, biting on my thumbnail as my mind wandered. “What about if we set our own fucking trap? Make it look like there’s a pack of wolves, or something similar, killing humans in Houston.”

  “I thought you were worried about your soul?” Locke asked cautiously.

  “I don’t have to kill innocents to leave a trail of bodies,” I said dryly. “How long ago were they taken?”

  “About a year,” Locke answered.

  “A…a year? Oh, Lilith. Even if they are alive…” I trailed off as my mind meandered into the darkness of horrific possibilities. “How do you know he hunts all supes and isn’t, like, a werewolf hunter or something?”

  “Valenta told me. It’s one of the few places I’m not scared to go to because of how close it is. The bar has been empty since the warlocks aided in the mass exodus from Earth, so I’m one of his few remaining customers and points of contact. Val confided that he suspects it’s Ludvig.”

  My face scrunched in an angry microexpression that only lasted a nanosecond at the reminder of how Locke had opened a portal to Faerie. Countless supernaturals had met their fate at the hands of Queen Mab, who didn’t take kindly to trespassers.

  It was good to hear Val was still around, though. I’d be willing to bet he would be harder to remove than an Alabama tick. No, not ol’ Val. Unless he wanted to, he wasn’t going to move for anyone or anything.

  After a few moments of heavy silence, a thought struck like a blacksmith’s hammer on an anvil.

  “Father Thomes?” The words were barely audible as I spoke his name. I must have swallowed a lemon or something because there was a huge lump in my throat that prevented me from swallowing.

  “He’s alive, but not doing well. After what happened to the pack, his health declined dramatically. I think the guilt at losing you and then them wore on his soul. After you, then Da, and finally the pack, I decided to lie low. I try to send help his way—you know, for groceries and stuff. They report back to me.”

  “I should go see him.”

  Locke nodded with tight, flat lips. “I will reach out to my people and see if I can find out where Ludvig is.”

  I turned and made my way toward the front door, pausing for a moment to look into my empty room.

  “I-I thought you were dead,” Locke said as I stared into the void. It was dark.

  Twisting my neck to regard Locke, I said, “It’s okay. I’m just glad someone is still here.”

  Locke nodded once and crossed his arms protectively over his chest—at a loss for words—as I exited my broken home.

  8

  Not wanting to waste any time, I sprouted my bloodwings and shot into the night. As I passed over Valenta, I had to fight the urge to not land and talk to him in desperate search for answers. I knew it was more important to reach Father Thomes and let him know I was still alive; or undead, if you wanted to be technical.

  The church came into view and my heart sank. Wooden boards covered several broken windows, probably from delinquent teenagers. The wrought iron fence had lost its battle with rust and had fallen toward the church. As I began gliding to the ground, I noticed the gargoyles were gone. A quick glance around the property and I saw something that made me do a double take; there was a small area covered in broken stone near the back gate. Chunks of earth were missing, as if peppered by mortar fire, where the crumbled bodies of the gargoyles rested.

  I landed by the front porch and ran up to the door as my wings retreated back into my body. As my knuckle touched the door, a bolt of lightning lanced out from a glowing sigil above the entrance. I was thrown several feet back into the yard, crying out in agony as every nerve in my body was overly energized.

  I lay in a heap on the ground, wheezing in pain as white smoke rose off my cooked body.

  “Smoked vampire does not smell good,” I croaked, feeling the heat dissipate from my skin.

  It was a ward, Baleius said.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” I retorted into the night. My head cleared, and I pushed myself up to a seated position, my fingers feeling the dry, crusted dirt beneath them.

  Is there another way in? Baleius asked.

  I think so, I answered in my head as my gaze climbed the walls of the church to the chimney. I’m willing to bet that isn’t protected.

  I stood on unsure feet as my body continued to heal from the intense attack. My body had stopped wafting smoke as I walked to the edge of the church wall. Looking up, I crouched and leaped to the roofline. I had meant to land on top, but hadn’t put enough strength into it, forcing me to grab the edge before I fell.

  Damn, that ward freaking hurt!

  I pulled myself up, putting in more effort than I liked, and began making my way to the chimney. As I approached, I gingerly tapped the structure with my fingertips to test for another ward.

  Yeah, I didn’t think he would have been able to make his way up here to plant the ward.

  Excellent thinking, John.

  I pulled on the chimney cap, separating the aluminum with ease, and sat on the edge of the brick. With my feet dangling down the dark hole, I began letting myself descend slowly toward the basement. Accumulated ash easily broke free with my touch and filled the small space with gray/white dust. I had to squint my eyes and close my mouth as I went deeper.

  I reached the bottom and hesitantly stuck my head out from the fireplace to look around, shifting to my preternatural eyes to see clearly in the dark. Once I saw it was clear, I stepped into the parlor where Father Thomes and I had sat not long ago…except it was long ago for a mortal with a finite amount of sand in his hourglass.

  What’s wrong? Baleius asked. Why have you stopped moving?

  I-I’m scared of what I’ll see once I find him. He was already so old, I trailed off to a whisper at the end.

  Baleius didn’t answer, giving me the time I needed to gather my resolve. Setting my jaw, I started down the hallway, pausing in front of Ulric’s prison. I took a step toward the door before catching myself. Father Thomes was more important. Plus, the world was still here, so he clearly had to be alive.

  Wait, why is the world still here? We were gone for ten years, right?

  Hmm, I was wondering that myself. Perhaps you weren’t the last? Besides Ulric, I mean. Maybe there are those who slumber, Baleius suggested. I nearly slapped myself in the forehead for not considering that plausible scenario.

  We can pontificate on that later.

  Pontificate? Really? Baleius prodded. Perhaps you mean “ponder”?

  That’s what I said. Ponderficate.

  I see what you are doing, he said in an understanding tone. Face your fears and let’s find the priest.

  His name is Father Thomes Philseep, I said a tad more angrily than I had anticipated. I supposed the little man who lived inside my head was right; I was scared.

  Turning away from Ulric’s prison, I made my way up the spiral staircase until I reached the main floor wh
ere the cathedral was, along with Thomes’ personal chambers.

  Stepping into the big room, I looked around, assessing. Jesus was now sitting on the stage instead of being hung up. I could see a crack on one of his arms where the cross had fallen, presumably landing on its side. Looking at the wall where he had once hung, I could see where an anchor had deteriorated and then failed, leaving a hole in the wall. Behind that, a sizable chunk of the wooden stud had been torn out in the collapse.

  My ruby eyes locked onto the chambers of my friend, and I slowly made my way toward his room. If I had a heartbeat, I was sure it would be thudding in my ears like a metal band’s bass drum. Regardless, my nervousness built on top of itself like those zombies in World War Z as they tried to get Brad Pitt.

  After what felt like an eternity, I stood in front of Father Thomes Philseep’s room and knocked the theme to Terminator.

  A cough answered, followed by a weak, raspy voice that called out, “John?”

  My throat was so tight that I could barely answer. “Yes, Father. It’s me. I-I’ve been on vacation,” I attempted to jest.

  “Come in, my son. Please, come in.”

  I grabbed the brass handle, turned it painfully slowly, and entered the chambers. A single candle resting on a nightstand tried in vain to light up the modest room. Shadows danced in unison with the tiny, orange flame. My eyes saw everything clear as, ironically, day, but I was confused why my friend would allow such dim lighting.

  As if in response to my thoughts, another candle was brought to the first, the wicks meeting to give life to a second flame.

  My only mortal friend held up the new candle to get a better look at me. His stark-white hair looked alarmingly thin where it still remained. Liver spots had aggressively multiplied and migrated from his hands all the way to the top of his deeply wrinkled head. His skin was almost as thin as his hair. I could see tendons and veins that were basically covered with the flesh equivalent of Saran Wrap. Arthritis had deformed his hands drastically, creating lumpy appendages that barely registered as human.

  Cracked lips worked as my friend spoke, “Where…”

  “I was in Faerie for a few hours.”

  Father Thomes cocked an eyebrow at me, prompting me to explain.

  “Best I can figure is that it’s a different dimension, and time was different for me. I even lost my vampirism over there. Had a heartbeat and everything. Weird shit.”

  “Did you at least have fun on your vacation?”

  “Um…it’s pretty bad over there, now, and I think it’s probably my fault. Maybe…definitely. Yeah, I did it.”

  Father Thomes strained to sit up and prop a few pillows behind his back. “You brought about the destruction of an entire dimension?”

  “Well, it sounds bad when you say it like that. And I don’t think it’s all the way destroyed—more like taken over? Yeah, that sounds about right.”

  “Oh, John, you just can’t help yourself. How did you manage such an impressive blunder?” Father Thomes began a coughing fit then before reaching with trembling, deformed hands to grab a glass of warm water on the nightstand. He took several large gulps, sighing in relief as he set the glass back down.

  “Um…remember that angel I allegedly killed? You know the one. Remember how I lost its body and, ah, sword? Turns out the Shadow Court maybe got their hands on it and apparently used the angelic weapon to free their army,” I told him with a hint of embarrassment. “Hmm, when I say it out loud, it sounds pretty epic. Kinda like a straight-to-Netflix movie.”

  “Netflix doesn’t exist anymore.”

  “S’cuse me? Come again?” I said, doing a dramatic double take.

  “I think they combined with another streaming service.”

  “Weren’t there only, like, three before I left? Isn’t that illegal? A monopoly or something like that?”

  “Their prices are pretty good, so no one complains. Besides, now there are several smaller streaming services.”

  “Ah, good ol’ consumerism.”

  Though the banter felt natural to me, it had been a decade for my mortal friend, who was knocking on death’s door. The awkwardness was palpable.

  “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, Thomes. But I’m here now. I need to fix this.”

  “How can you fix time, my son?”

  “Oh man, you’re right,” I exhaled as I unconsciously sat on the edge of his bed, my legs suddenly unable to carry my own weight. My gaze shifted to the wall as I thought about the impossible task in front of me.

  “I’m glad you’re here now, at least. I was always saddened at the thought of not getting to say goodbye before I passed.”

  His words crashed into my heart like a speeding semi into a stalled smart car. I turned my head to look my seasoned friend in the eyes, then the world went blurry.

  With air unable to squeeze past my tight throat, I mouthed, “No,” as the waterworks were notched to eleven. Taking in a deep, steadying breath, I said, “I knew this day was going to come, no matter how hard I tried to push it out of my mind. It was always there, like that aunt you hate but are forced to see on holidays.”

  “It’s okay, John. I know where I am going once I pass.”

  “What if you don’t have to pass…” I said in a knee-jerk reaction. It was more a thought than an actual question.

  “My son, even if I wanted to, you know I can’t accept your dark gift,” Father Thomes said calmly.

  “How can you be so at ease? Dying is literally my worst fear right now.”

  “Because you don’t know for certain where you will go.”

  “Well, killing that innocent limo driver sure didn’t make things any easier…”

  “You have asked for His forgiveness and received His mercy. Now you must forgive yourself.”

  “I-I can’t.”

  “You don’t feel you deserve forgiveness.”

  Looking down at the ground, I wiped my face and said, “I don’t really know, but that sounds about right.” Unable to blow my nose, I inhaled sharply and swallowed the saline snot.

  “Always remember, John, that He is listening. When you are ready to forgive yourself, you’ll be able to ask for His divine help to find peace of self.”

  “Thanks, Thomes.” An idea burst into my mind like a bolt of lightning in the dark. “Hey, what if there was a way for you to live longer without endangering your soul?”

  “John, I…” Thomes started before I interrupted him.

  “Think about it. If I can somehow prolong your life, we can keep the apocalypse at bay. I can’t do it alone, and I think you know that. Right now, you’re all I’ve got. Well, besides a mini-Locke who’s afraid to leave the house.”

  “Can you blame him? Jonathan and the twins were powerful, resourceful, and intelligent, and they were taken,” Thomes said as his head hung low in shame.

  “Hey, it wasn’t your fault. Don’t pull that crap right now. Only one of us gets to be a self-defeating drama queen.”

  Thomes looked up smiling and said, “You said it, not me.” He thought for a moment before saying, “What did you have in mind?”

  I put a hand on his gnarled knuckles and said, “Let me reach out to someone and see about keeping you with us a little longer. At least until we make sure evil is totally defeated.”

  Reaching over to his nightstand, he pulled open a drawer and retrieved a necklace. Thomes handed it to me and said, “This will help protect you.”

  “From what?” I asked, looking at the silver crucifix. I could feel it hum with holy power.

  “Many things, my son. It is time you signify your allegiance to the Light.”

  “The irony isn’t lost on me.”

  He chuckled, which turned into a hacking fit. I sat helplessly watching my friend catch his breath.

  “The silver will protect you from divination and even ranged attacks, like curses. It will also allow you to pass through the church’s defenses. Lastly, it looks snazzy on you.”

  “Snazzy, you say?” I r
eplied, hanging the pendant around my neck, the reflective silver in direct contrast to my black shirt. It felt…odd. I didn’t know if it was a mental hurdle or the fact that it was made of silver. Then again, I did carry the kukri around with no problem. “I’ll wear it with pride, Thomes.”

  I rested my hand on his and smiled. He put his other hand on mine, nodded once, and said, “It’s good to see you again, my friend.”

  9

  I left the home of my friend—my compass to the Light—and stepped into the cool Houston night. I knew what I had to do, and nothing was going to stop me.

  Sprouting bloodwings, I shot into the air toward the clinic of my friend, Doc Jim.

  What makes you think he’s still there? Baleius asked, annoying me.

  I don’t know for sure if he is, but I need to check all my bases. It’s like I stepped into the polar opposite of It’s a Wonderful Life. Where the fuck is Mr. Potter? I’m gonna tear him limb from limb.

  We arrived at the clinic within a few minutes.

  Lilith, I love these wings!

  A word of caution: being in the air exposes you to the mortal world. Radar might pick you up if you fly too high, prompting a response from the human authorities, potentially even the military. Normal citizens might record you with their easily accessible phones, which would, once again, draw attention. While in heavily populated cities, maybe we should, how do mortals put it, take the bus?

  I’ll take that into consideration, I said as my bloodwings were drawn back into my body. The building still looked in good working order. The parking lot was well attended, with only one rogue weed defying the odds to grow through the asphalt. Cupping my hands around my eyes, I peered through the glass door to see a dark, but clean, waiting room. I rang the after-hours doorbell and moved my hand back to my face to better see through the glass. The LED streetlights outside created glares over the tinted black mirrors that were the door and windows.

  A light flipped on behind the reception desk, and I breathed a sigh of relief as an only slightly older Doc Jim shuffled into the lobby. He fidgeted with a key chain, searching for the right one to unlock the door. As he found it, he stuck it into the door and looked up to see who was at his door. He froze, squinting his eyes and leaning forward to better see.