by Carrow Brown
I turned Silence over in my hand as David lifted his rifle up at the group. Behind me, Fred let out a rapid series of chirps as he lowered his head.
The center figure lifted up a pale hand to point at me. He spoke, soft words imbued with magic, “On my command, sleep.”
The runes along my forearm glowed, and I had a fleeting moment as my eyes drooped to think Fuck before I crumpled to the ground.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Lost Marble
The dream swirled around me, sharpening shapes and colors until I stood once more in the warehouse full of endless halls of wine barrels. In the distance, I heard shouting and explosions, but they faded as the details of the barrels and walls surrounding me clarified. I glanced down to find my arms and legs weighted by thick chains. The links attached to my command rune glowed brightly and felt the heaviest. When nothing happened, I walked to a nearby barrel and sat on it. Commanded to sleep and where did my subconscious take me? The place full of soul wine.
“I have something for you,” said a female voice at my side.
“Shit-fuck!” I jumped and turned to see Dreamer floating a few inches away. “Could you not do that, please?”
Her head tilted to the side, black hair expanding around her head to form a dark halo. “Do what?”
“Never mind. What do you want to give me? Is it vodka? Vodka would be good. I could use it after today.”
She pressed a finger to her mouth and whispered “secret” before extending her hand to me. The similarity between her and Badb gave me pause before I looked down to see what she offered.
A black marble with swirling mist, forming symbols unknown to me, nestled in her palm.
I held my hand out for it. “What is it?”
“A memory.” She placed the tiny object into my hand. “You told me to give it back to you later.”
I made a face at the marble. “I really hate dreams right now.” Looking up, I found myself alone in the warehouse. “Great.” Rolling the marble between my fingers, I focused on it and waited for... something? I squeezed it, pressed it against my forehead to no effect. When I brought it close to my eye to make out the swirling symbols, they retreated into the center.
“What am I supposed to do with a lost marble? Eat it? Oh, what the hell.” I tossed it into my mouth and swallowed.
The room expanded and rippled, the colors shifting to their inverses as the shadows gathered to form a tall and lanky figure. The darkness became his flowing robe, rippling in a similar way Dreamer’s hair did about her head. More shadows came together to create a sleek onyx staff with a decidedly gothic lantern hanging from the end of it. He used his staff to light the area before him, stopping when the eerily green light illuminated me. As he studied me, a bronze mask manifested under his hood to take up the vacant space inside it. The eye holes of the mask gave no hint as to what lay underneath it, but something in my gut warned it would be better to never find out.
A hand with skeleton fingers lifted to rest atop my head. His words, deep but soft, whispered of power and primal energy, which left the hairs along my nape standing on end. “You’re smaller than I thought you’d be.”
“Holy hells,” I breathed. “Are you Walker?”
“No, Walker is gone. I am an echo. A memory.” His hand left my head to grasp at one of the chains bound to my limbs. “You have not been able to harmonize properly. This is disappointing.”
I snatched my hand and the chain attached to it away, feeling my face heat up. “Yeah, well join the ‘Ghost Disappoints Us’ club.”
“It is not you I am disappointed in,” he said, his masked face never turning away from me.
“What are we doing here? No offense, but I’d rather be awake. Some shit is really going on where my body is right now, and… wait, am I dead? Is this my afterlife?”
His shape distorted for the fraction of a second. “You ask too many questions. I am only an echo and can only answer one at a time.”
“Okay.” I rubbed my hands along my arms as I narrowed my thoughts to a single question. “Why did you make an echo?”
“I made this echo as a contingency to ensure the survival of my amalgam.”
“You know, I’m having a shit day, and I am really tired of dream-figures who answer in ways that make no sense to me. What is this ‘amalgam’ you’re talking about?”
The image of Walker froze. Not stood still, not halted. He froze as if I’d pressed the pause button on him. In the back of my mind, something shifted about in a similar way Silence did. “Georg Wilhelm Friedrich Hegel.”
“Wait.” I rummaged through my memories for a moment. “You mean the German philosopher? He’s your amalgam?”
“No, I am trying to explain in a way you would understand. It requires much simplification. According to your memory, he defined the concept of sublation—combination without loss which results in the creation of a new state called geist.”
“Uh, yeah. I recall that. What about it?”
“Eons and infinities of the cycle of harvest passed, and I walked the ways. In all the change I witnessed, I remained static. I, as an entity of the eons and the endless, would forever remain unchanged as my setting constantly evolved.” The image of Walker looked at the wine, and despite the mask I could sense the contemplation when I heard his voice continue. “I desired deviation, so I joined the fields. I left my crook, forsook my lantern, and ended the harvest. As amalgam, I am gone, but I am also here, new, something else and something unknown. No longer of the eons and the endless. Something beyond. Something in between. Walker does not know. Walker desired this because he did not know the outcome.”
Everything went still at his words. Even my heart stopped beating as what he said registered in my mind. “Wait, then that means—” The warehouse shook and began to fade away. “No! Wait! I have more questions!”
Walker’s form faded with the dream, but I still heard him. “And I will be here to answer them.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Floyd Bitterwind
Iwoke up somewhere hard and cold. The pungent scent of rotten eggs, feces, and worse filled my nose. I pushed myself off the ground and grimaced as something sticky clung to my cheek. With a groan, I cracked an eye open to see what it was.
Blood.
Blood covered the remains of dead bodies that littered the ground around me. Most with all their flesh removed to reveal the stark white bones. The source of the stench rested piled up in the corner of the cell—intestines, shredded flesh, and mushy gray stuff I assumed to be brain matter. In another corner, bones lined up to create a distorted form with three heads and four arms. I always forgot how disturbed my monster self was until I woke up. Monster-self liked to play with the food once it’d eaten the good bits, like a fat and happy cat.
“Odin’s eye,” I breathed, my eyes still taking it in. My memory kicked in, and I stumbled to my feet. “David?” My hand went to my back to grab Silence—he was gone.
“Shit-fuck,” I snarled. Pushing myself up, a rattling sound caught my attention, and I looked back to a shackle around my leg. Thick chains of the sort found attached to boat anchors connected the shackle to the concrete floor.
My breath froze in my lungs as I stared at the iron contraption. Memories of a similar imprisonment flashed in my mind. My heart pounded in my chest and my breath came fast until I was hyperventilating. I grabbed the iron chair and yanked until my arms bulged and muscles protested. It didn’t give under my strength, and I felt a scream building up in my throat.
No! a part of my brain snapped. Compartmentalize. Focus. Push the feelings down and concentrate on what can be done.
I patted myself, and outside of being covered in blood, I was naked. Physically, besides the self-induced panic attack, I felt fine. Better than fine. I could only guess at the total body count shoved in the corner, but I’d gorged on enough to hum with energy. A mistake on my captor’s part, but they didn’t need to know.
Content with the inspection of
my person, I turned my attention outward. The bars of a large iron cage surrounded me, some bent out of shape. A few feet beyond, surrounding the cage, was a chain link fence. Drab concrete walls finished off the look with a flickering light overhead. I noted the single-entry point to the room, sealed off every couple of yards with an iron-barred door. Two men in guard uniforms stood by mounted machine guns pointed in my direction. I breathed in to pick up their scents, but the stink of the rotting remains made it impossible.
One of the men spoke into a small radio on his shoulder, “She’s awake.” He paused and added, “No. She’s yanked on the chain and is looking around now. Nothing like that... Right. Understood.” He looked around at the others. “Boss says to prep her for a walk. He’s coming down to take her to Floyd.”
Prep me for a walk, I thought, watching them. And to Floyd? Guess I get to meet the guy pulling the strings. The guards relaxed and more than one released a held breath. Apparently, whoever the boss was, the men had enough faith in him to assume he’d fix all their worries. I didn’t believe Floyd was the boss, as his name was whispered about. A man who assured his soldiers by the mere mention of his name alone was always dangerous.
My head felt lonely without Silence’s facetious commentary to take away the tension of the moment.
I toyed with the idea of pretending to be weak and frightened, but given the carnage around me, it was obvious they wouldn’t buy it.
Being prepped for a walk involved a hose down with chemical water to remove the blood from my body while ten men pointed rifles and tasers at me. The water left a pink tinge to my skin, giving me a healthy flesh color for once. There wasn’t much time to really sit and take it in as they threw sweatpants and a shirt at me once the water was off. I did as they said, not because I felt threatened by their weapons. No, I did as they asked because a prisoner who was compliant and non-aggressive was more likely to be underestimated. My captors were more likely to make a mistake. When the opportunity came, I’d seize it.
I dressed in the fresh clothes and held still until they ordered me to raise my arms to be restrained once more before leaving me alone in the cell. We stood there wordlessly until an armed group rounded the corner.
I kept my eyes on the man in the middle—tall, broad shouldered, with short hair and a scowl, which only enhanced the intensity of his hazel eyes. More than one guard turned to him as he strode to the chain-link fence.
We stared at each other before he turned his head and said, “Open it.”
The smaller man next to him stepped forward with a loop of keys and worked one into the lock. The boss-man and I didn’t look away from each other, though I’d call it more of an assessment rather than a stare down.
All right, Dale Carnegie, I thought, let’s see if your methods work in extreme situations.
The large man walked inside but stopped short of my arm’s reach through the bars. “Do you know who I am?”
I smiled. “You’re Samuel Henry, current leader of the Hunter’s Order. Born on May eighth, prior Special Forces, highly decorated before you and your family disappeared. Facebook says you prefer tea over coffee.”
One of his thick brows rose.
I held up my bound hands. “Someone asked me to look into the missing mythics, your name came into it, so I looked into you, as well. It’s part of the procedure, nothing personal.”
“Nothing personal... You killed fifty-six of my men.”
“Did they shoot at me first? Because that’s called self-defense, Samuel. But I do apologize for killing your men. That was wrong of me.”
His dark brown eyes narrowed. “Are you being funny?”
“I’m trying to be sincere. For what it’s worth, killing them didn’t give me any pleasure. If I could’ve avoided it, I would’ve.”
Samuel stared at me for a long moment before asking, “What the fuck are you?”
Dale Carnegie’s principles didn’t help that question, so I kept quiet.
He continued, “We spent the last few days trying to assess your weaknesses—tranqs, poisons, electricity, silver, magic, and you barely reacted to fire. Our largest caliber rounds took chunks of flesh out and left you enraged. We ended up having to feed you because the longer you went without food, and the more superficial injuries you sustained, the more dangerous you became. We’ve killed vampires, werewolves, and worse, but you make them look like kid’s play. So, I ask again, what are you?”
I opened my mouth to retort and then closed it. What the hell was I? Did I even count as a Valkyrie? I didn’t fly or escort souls to the afterlife. Instead, I sat around in a large library with a sweet-toothed chimera and caused violence unto others when told to. Ratatoskr said I was half Outer One and I couldn’t ignore that fact. Not with all the things which transpired over the last few days. But I wasn’t a mindless monster either.
“My people call me a freak. If it works for them, it’ll have to work for you.”
Samuel’s eyes lit with fury, but his face only glowered before turning in the direction he’d come from. With a snap of his finger and jerk of his hand, he led the freak parade with our footsteps echoing off the walls. I worried more about how long I’d been imprisoned than what they’d do to me. Where was Silence? Was David okay? Would anyone come to help? And perhaps the biggest question of all—had the Fae Queens figured out what happened to their people? Was mass genocide happening with me locked up? What did Floyd want with me?
The thoughts and worry continued as the guards escorted me down a long hallway. It expanded outward into a corridor with rows of cells on both sides. Within each cell were a bunk, toilet, sink, and a prisoner. Several faces matched the pictures on my board at home and some didn’t. They watched me pass, most leaning away from the bars with bags under their eyes. One cell held a young woman lightly tapping her head against a wall.
I asked Samuel’s back, “You realize it’s not healthy here for us, right? Some mythics need the sun or contact with the earth or ocean to survive.”
Samuel grunted. “We know.”
My eyes narrowed, but I kept my tongue still. I spared another glance toward the cell with the mythic thudding her head against the wall, though I couldn’t see her. Assuming she was freed, her recovery would take years, if she could recover at all. I looked around and my mind replaced all the mythics with damaged Snowdrops who’d rather consider the easy escape to their pain than recover from it.
A female voice called out, “Draugrrökkr!”
My head snapped to the side to see a pretty blonde with sun-bronzed skin clutching the bars in a white-knuckle grip. Even in a wrinkled three-piece suit, mussed-up hair, and ruined makeup, she looked stunning. Not fair.
“Sasha?”
Something shoved me from behind. “Keep moving.”
“They think I ate you,” I called over my shoulder. “And sent me to find you!”
Sasha’s words reached my ears before we rounded a corner. “Freya help us all....”
We finished our trek through the hallway of imprisoned mythics and down a hall with a flickering light. I fought down the urge to make a quip at the stereotypical creepy hangout as they opened a door to a room with two chairs on either side of a metal table bolted to the floor. As the tense silence continued, I couldn’t help myself anymore.
“I really like the service you provide here,” I said to one of the guards with a machine gun aimed at my head. Another locked my wrists to a chain connected to a hook on the floor. “It’s very personable and tailored to my needs. If you send me a survey, I’ll leave you with a glowing recommendation.”
A familiar male voice behind me asked, “You never lose your sass, do you?” The owner of the voice walked past and took a seat in the chair across the table from me. I stared at his salt-and-pepper hair, pale complexion, black suit, black undershirt, and black tie.
“Caldrin?” I asked. “You’re Floyd Bitterwind?”
The man smiled and steepled his fingers together on the table. “I have many names, bu
t my most notorious one is Floyd.”
“Well, color me impressed.” I gestured my head to the room. “So, you’ve got me. Now what?” Without drawing attention to the movement, I separated my hands to test the strength of the chains binding me to the table. Solid iron was hard to work with, but I felt a subtle give under my pressure.
“I wanted to have a chat with you.”
“A chat? A chat? We could’ve had a chat back at Kitsune Haven. You didn’t have to abduct me and chain me to a chair.” I continued the pressure sensing further give under my strength. If I played my cards right, I could leap across the table and use Caldrin as a hostage to get out.
“I needed to confirm you’re the wielder of the Shepherd’s Crook and assess your abilities before acquiring you.” He leaned closer to me. “But that’s not what I want to discuss with you.”
“I like long walks in the snow, people with AB blood types, and reading philosophy.”
Caldrin’s eyes crinkled at the corners. “What if I told you I know more about you than Odin does?”
The question twisted my gut. Why would Caldrin, a mortal infant compared to me, know more about me than my creator did? The bite of my nails digging into my flesh drew my attention down to my clenched hands and the small gap I’d created in one of the links of the chain. I relaxed my fingers and studied the crescent moon cuts in my palms. “I’d say you are toying with a dangerous topic.”
Caldrin reached to his side and placed the box I’d taken from the safe back at Oaken Staff on the table. He placed a finger on the top and magical circles and runes lit up all over the box. “You were asked to fetch this, yes?”
“I was.”
“Do you know why it needed to be you?”
My hands rose, but my restraints halted my movement. “Because I could sneak into Oaken Staff.”
Caldrin’s thin lips spread into a smile. “No. It is because of what you are.” The box shuddered and collapsed on itself to reveal an aged leather tome. It was as large as my hand, which wasn’t large as books went. The book’s cover flaked near the spine, the dark leather so dried up that it curled around the edges. I turned the box to look at the pages as best I could and found them yellowed with age. There was no title or anything that allowed the book to stand out from the any other.