by Hunter Blain
“I don’t WANT a-fucking-nother one. Da made that one for me, Lilith damn it. And now…now it’s gone.” I began breathing heavily, my chest rising and falling visibly. No one dared say anything. No one, except Depweg.
“Then let’s make that fucker pay.”
9
We formulated a plan as everyone but Lily and I ate. The weres feasted on several pounds of ultra-rare meats while Ludvig ate an entire rotisserie chicken and two baked potatoes—at least I hoped they were baked. Magni tried to emulate his master, but only succeeded in eating a breast and a thigh with one potato that I think was insta-nuked in one of those pressure cooker, Crock-Pot thingys. Locke had a tuna salad sandwich, and I scrunched my nose at the smell. I never liked fish.
“Oh, before I forget,” Locke said, setting down his plate and walking to a wine fridge he had installed under the kitchen counter. He pulled out a red bag, opened a drawer, pulled something out, and walked over to me. “Here,” he said, holding a bag of blood and a fancy-looking straw.
“What’s this?” I asked, taking the bag. I noticed one end of the straw came to a point, like the one on a child’s juice box.
“Since you’re back, I’ve resumed the supply flow from your blood bank. You’ll also be delighted to know that I’ve learned a spell to reinvigorate the life energy stored within to near maximum capacity.”
I looked down at the bag, noticed a tight cellophane square at the top, looked at the straw, and then nodded my approval. Locke had thought of everything.
I slipped the straw into the designated holder and took a tentative sip, not knowing what to expect.
It. Was. Delicious. My eyes went wide in surprised pleasure as the blood slid down my throat in a euphoric wave. A moan escaped my mouth from around the straw as I looked at Locke and nodded enthusiastically.
“Holy shit, that’s good,” I said, wiping at the drop of blood that I had felt land in my beard in my eagerness to proclaim my delight.
“I’m glad you like it. It wasn’t easy to come by.”
Taking another long pull and swallowing the crimson goodness, I pulled the bag away and said to Locke, “Well, I’m glad you did, man, ’cause this is great! It’s almost like drinking straight from the tap.”
“There’s plenty more where that came from.”
After another mouthful, I thought out loud, “Hey, maybe I won’t need to feed on mortals anymore! Unless, you know, they need kill’n. Then I might as well partake.”
“Let me know if I need to tweak anything,” Locke suggested as he returned to his spot on the couch and picked up his plate.
“Will do,” I slurred around the straw, trying to inhale the rest of the bag. After I gulped the rest of it, I carefully ripped open the bag and began licking the inside.
“Jesus, dude. Have some dignity,” Joey said with a mouth covered in grease.
“Oh, I like him just the way he is,” Lily purred, squeezing one of my cheeks like a grandmother.
I got up from my chair and walked to the kitchen where I threw the empty bag away before opening the little fridge for another. Then I reached back into the trash, pulled the empty bag out, retrieved the straw, and let the Hi-B (get it? Like Hi-C, but with blood) fall back to its Febreze-scented tomb.
Returning to my comfy recliner chair—which was beginning to succumb to the will of my ass and create a divot—I inserted the straw into round two and began sipping, trying to prolong the enjoyment this time.
“Should we bring Father Thomes in on this? I mean, Asmodeus is a demon, right? Kinda within his purview,” I asked the room.
“Well, look at you with the big words,” Lily teased, poking my shoulder.
“Word calendar in the kitchen,” I informed, thumbing over my shoulder. “But the question still stands.”
“I don’t see why we wouldn’t,” Depweg threw out.
“Uh, he…he’s not as strong as he used to be,” Locke said gently.
“Doc Jim’s serums aren’t working?” I asked, knitting my brows in concern. The image of Father Thomes lying on the ground, unable to get himself to his feet, made time seem to freeze for a moment.
“Well, they are in the sense that he isn’t dead yet.”
“What choo talk’n ’bout, Willis?” I asked in my best Gary Coleman impression. “Don’t humans live to be, like, two hundred years old or somethin’?”
“You’re thinking of the reptile, tuataras,” Locke corrected.
“Holy shit, really? I need to get me one of those! To me, puppies’ life spans are like the blink of an eye.” As I finished, I tussled Tiny Tim’s ears, causing him to stretch and yawn before falling back to sleep. Joey had fed him some high-end puppy chow, and the little sweetie-poo had eaten his fill.
“Well, the tuataras have been theorized to live that long, but only in captivity.”
“Eh, I’ll stick with the puppers for now. How can you compete with this?” I said as I lovingly stroked Tim’s fur. He wagged his tail twice before drifting off again.
“Guess I’ll head to see Father Thomes. Depweg, would, ah, would you like to go?” I asked gingerly, barely making eye contact with him as my face tried to turn away from the awkwardness of the question.
He looked up at me with a mouth full of meat, cocking his head for a second before recognition struck. His eyes went unfocused and drifted to the ground as he stopped midchew and nodded his head while closing his eyes. He had some forgiveness to ask for.
In the moments of uncomfortable silence that followed, Lily spoke softly to me, “John, I wanted to talk to you about something.”
My gaze was locked on Depweg, who had had all his strength sapped from him and was almost unable to even swallow the food he had chewed.
“John?” Lily asked, breaking my connection to my frightened friend. Heck, I was scared Father Thomes would excommunicate Depweg and leave his soul for the dogs of Hell.
Lily nudged me.
“Hmm? Oh, can it wait? Depweg and I have some groveling to do.”
Lily seemed to straighten slightly as she put on a playful attitude with amazing efficiency. “You boys behave,” she said with a wink before gently shifting planes.
“Real glad she showed up. Yup. Super happy that the information she provided was pivotal and invaluable to the operation. Mm-hmm,” I said while running my palm down my face.
“I’m glad she showed up, nightstand,” Locke said with a shit-eating grin. Everyone else seemed to smile as well.
“Want me to go with you?” Joey asked around a mouthful of food as he looked up at his sullen pack leader.
“No. Stay here and help finish the plan. John and I will go see Father Philseep alone,” Depweg directed. Picking up a paper towel, he wiped at his mouth and pushed his plate over to Joey, who looked up, perplexed. Depweg answered by simply frowning and shaking his head, signaling his appetite was gone all of a sudden. I could sympathize with his feelings as I slurped the bottom of the bag like a cup of soda at the movie theater. I swear it was only in cinemas where people just HAD to have every last drop and fought for several minutes trying to suck it up. More than a few times I had—as some might call it—abused my abilities by waving a hand and asking their brains to just go to sleep. Because the universe punished those who used their powers for evil, the sleeping person would sometimes snore, making the situation worse than before.
Ahem. Back on track…
Standing, I finished my bag, dropping it into the receptacle as I passed by it, and made my way up the stairs into the mausoleum. The throne opened on its own as we crossed a box with a red light.
“Neat,” I gushed as I waved my hand in front of the motion detection system repeatedly.
After a few seconds of standing on the stairway and watching my childlike antics, Depweg sighed and asked, “Finished?”
“One more,” I said as I waved a hand in front of the box again.
“It only opened the one time. There’s another box halfway down that closes it. All you’re doin
g is waving your hand in the air like an idiot.”
“And?” I asked with enough sarcasm that it sounded genuine.
“I’d like to get going,” Depweg grumbled before adding, “Please.”
“Oh, alright, Mr. Killjoy.”
We made our way into the marble throne room and Depweg walked to the door, pressing a panel by the giant stone door. There was a click, and it slid into the room a few inches before stopping and then making its way to the side, flush with the wall.
“Upgrades?” I asked, impressed.
“Upgrades,” Depweg confirmed.
He motioned for me to walk through first, which I did because age before beauty. Oh, heck, who am I kidding? Age AND beauty before anything else. I mean, I had abs now. Real ones! No sharpie this time.
Depweg followed me out before turning and pushing on a piece of stone that was actually a cover on a hinge. Underneath was a keypad, and Depweg punched in a code, careful to move his body and block my line of sight.
“Hey, what gives? It’s my lair, right?”
“Technically Locke owns everything now, but yes.”
“Then why the secret code stuff?”
“We each have our own combination and no one knows anyone else’s but their own.”
“Ah, I see. Let me guess, if you enter the code wrong more than twice an alarm sounds inside?”
“Or if you put in your code backward.”
“Not a bad idea, actually.”
“Thanks, it was mine,” Depweg beamed. Well, he beamed as much as the depressed werewolf was able. “We need to add your phone to the list when we get back so you get an alert along with the rest of us. I’ll get Locke to text you a code to use.”
I had a smile on my face that began to fade as I simultaneously felt safer with all the added security and had the unshakable thought that I was the reason this was all needed. As far as I could tell, nothing cataclysmic had happened to my home in my lengthy absence.
“What is it?” Depweg asked, eyeing my face.
“Hmm? Oh, nothing. Gas,” I pretended to burp before quickly throwing in, “Shall we?” then began walking toward the cemetery gates.
As we stepped into the street, I took in a lungful of air, feeling the warmth of Houston. It must have drizzled during the day because the ground was wet in patches and there was the unmistakable smell of rain. I uncaringly stepped into a puddle as we walked, thinking about what to say to someone who had just been through so much.
“What…What was it like?” I asked hesitantly.
“Losing control and letting the beast take over completely?”
“Yeah. It had always been one of my biggest fears until I forced PS into a box. I mean, he had taken over plenty of times in the past, but not for any extended period of time.”
“A box? What do you mean?” Depweg asked, turning his head to face me as we casually walked to the church.
“Lemarchand’s box, if you read The Hellbound Heart by Clive Barker, or the Lament Configuration if you watched the Hellraiser movies.”
“You trapped your Predatory Self in the Puzzle Box?” Depweg inquired, having a hard time grasping the concept.
“Yeah. As it turns out, having a full set of celestial armor made me stronger, but made PS, aka Baleius, stronger as well. Like conquer-the-universe strong, or so he claimed. So I had to give up the armor to prevent my demon from taking over the world, if you can believe something as cliché as that.”
“How did you put him in the Puzzle Box?”
“I-I don’t really know. I just knew I had to stop him and enacted the first thing that came to mind. Maybe it was the Hellraiser poster on the wall in my mind, but I manifested it and treated it as if it were real.”
“What happens if you let him out?” Depweg asked with a touch of concern in his tone.
“Oh, man, I have no idea. I don’t even want to think about that. He’s probably going mad with rage in his solitary confinement,” I admitted.
We walked in silence for another few minutes, and I fought back the urge to ask my question again. I didn’t know if he had forgotten or just didn’t want to talk about it, but it was killing me. I let the question leap off my tongue like diving into an empty swimming pool.
“So, what was it like?”
Depweg looked down at the ground, put his hands in his jeans’ pockets, and took a deep breath.
“It was both freeing and confining. The beast only wanted to hunt, and I wasn’t able, or willing, to fight it. The best I could do was guide it toward a group of people I knew to be bad. He-he took it further, and I didn’t stop him. When he entered the first family’s house, I just…went to sleep, I guess you could say.” He thought for a moment before quickly adding, “But that’s no excuse. I must atone for my actions.”
“I hear that, brother,” I agreed, thinking of my own past transgressions. Another question came to mind, and I couldn’t help myself. “Why did your were form change when you, ah, went feral?”
“I’ve been wondering that myself. It was helpful having opposable thumbs.” His attempt at humor was blatant and thin, making my heart hurt. Not many people were as good as I was at injecting humor in times of stress. Some said—and these people were wrong—that not even I was good at it.
I chuckled, half because what he had said was somewhat humorous and half to unconsciously break the palpable tension. I knew what was flying through his brain, clanging off the insides of his skull with an unrelenting determination. I could feel the darkness in his chest cavity swallowing his soul like a serpent, and the unease in his guts. I knew what it was like to fight off feelings of joy in an effort to self-martyrize and wallow in a prison of guilt.
Part of me wished I could take his pain and carry the weight for him. Another part was thankful I didn’t have to heft that burden, as he had decimated entire generations, wiping them from the face of the earth in brutal, horrifying ways. Men and women of all ages, including children, had felt the bite of his jaws and the power of his hands tipped in raptor claws. I shuddered to think how black his soul was at this moment. It must drip with vicious tar, dissolving any chance for salvation like the meat that rested in his gut—turning to shit.
“Dep—” I started, finding my voice choked off from the severity of the situation.
“I know, man. I-I know,” was all he could muster, visibly fighting back the tears that threatened to spill in such volume as to potentially drown the world.
Without thinking, I grabbed his shoulder, turned him to face me, and wrapped my arms around him. He stiffened for a moment, unsure if he deserved even this modicum of affection, and then relaxed, cradling his face into my neck.
“It’s not your fault, man. The part of us that is still human has with it a compassionate heart, but also limitations of what can be withstood. You and I have been through a lot, man. Like a whole lotta lot. I dare any person on this plane, mortal or supe, to even dream of enduring what we have…what you have.” The dam broke and Depweg wept. I could feel a cascade of warm tears soaking into my shirt before rolling down my chest and stomach. I stood there, being the best friend I could possibly be, and let him cry, free of all judgment.
Then, all of a sudden, he was done, like simply turning off the TV midmovie. He lifted his head from my shoulder, wiped at his dripping face with the bottom of his shirt, and nodded at me once.
“Thank you, John. You really are the only one who understands the constant battle. After Dawson dying because Lolth was looking for me, then Joey getting infected with the darkness, and having Dawson’s corpse show up to mock my failures, I…” his voice wavered again before he took a deep breath and steadied himself, then continued, “I just let go.” He looked me in the eyes, grabbed both my shoulders, and repeated with emphasis and regret, “I just. Let. Go.”
“I know, man,” I said with a voice that cracked a little. The image of Magni screaming in the back seat of his mom’s car as he held up a superhero action figure to defend himself burst through my t
houghts like a flash in the darkness. At least I had helped to provide Magni with a good life and a home, albeit with Da doing all the work. Depweg…Depweg would never get that feeling of closure. Everyone had been collateral, leaving behind a vacuum of pain from the extended families all around the world. I was thankful Da had stopped me before I had drained Magni of his precious life’s blood. I don’t know what would have happened to my sanity if I had killed an innocent child.
Magni. My gaze broke from Depweg’s and I stepped back while my eyes went unfocused.
“What is it?” Depweg asked, breaking out of his prison of pain after seeing something was wrong in my features.
“The seer, Lachesis, told me something, and it keeps circling around to smack me in the face like a demented Halley’s Comet or something.”
“What did she say?”
My gaze became focused again, and I stared into his eyes, trying to bring myself to repeat what she had said.
“It-it can’t be true. It just can’t,” I insisted fervently, fiercely shaking my head from side to side in a resounding negative. The thought that what Tezli…Tesla…Tez had said reinforced Lachesis’ words and formed a mound of ice in my stomach, threatening to steal my breath.
“John,” Depweg implored, his hands still on my shoulders, “you can tell me.”
With my own tears welling, I let out my inescapable shame. “She says I’ll kill Magni.”
“What? Magni? No way, man. No way! I know you. There’s not a reason on Earth why you would harm that boy,” Depweg insisted without a doubt in his mind.
“I know,” I said, letting a tear roll down my cheek. “But what if the reason isn’t of this Earth? What if, like, Satan tricks me into doing it? You know, hold an entire bus of children cradling puppies hostage with a bomb on board.”
“Or the entirety of existence and every soul therein,” Depweg breathed, letting his gaze wander off behind me as he ran through scenarios in his mind. “Jesus Christ.”