Mouth of Madness

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Mouth of Madness Page 20

by Hunter Blain


  What he said made sense to me, and it made me respect him even more. He fought the mold, refusing to take the path that had been laid out before him, and instead found me. We had done such immense good since 1990.

  “I’m with you till the end, padre.” I straightened my spine and puffed out my chest. “We have saved, what, hundreds of thousands of mortals from certain doomy-doom? Together we have sent back vicious demons, stopped multiple cults…and a bunch of other stuff that eludes me right now. Point is, I’m glad you made the decision to forgo the binds of tradition and work with yours truly. Heck, if anything, you’ve saved my soul, and that’s a big feck’n deal to me!”

  “As it is to me as well, my son. I’m proud of you and everything we’ve accomplished. If only Da could see you now,” Father Thomes beamed.

  My smile went hollow and disappeared from my eyes, leaving only my curved lips at the mention of Da.

  “Father,” I said hoarsely, a lump in my throat threatening to form a seal and prevent sound from coming out. “W-why wasn’t Da in Heaven? You know, when I died. He wasn’t there.”

  “Oh, John, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up the thought,” Father Thomes said, placing a hand on my shoulder.

  “What happens to angels when they die?” I asked just above a whisper, letting my head sink to my chest with how heavy my thoughts were.

  “I do not confidently know, my son.” There was a slight hesitance to his voice, and I lifted my gaze to his.

  “Guess,” I encouraged with a frown.

  “I would assume they blink out of existence, John. I surmise it’s why the final battle between Heaven and Hell hasn’t commenced yet. All the soldiers must surely be terrified of fading into nothing for the remainder of eternity.”

  The lump achieved its goal and closed my throat like an expanding insulation foam. Only a whimper managed to wiggle past the blockade before it could fully cure and leave me with absolute silence as my only means of expression.

  “I’m sorry, John,” my friend said softly, like trying to put a dab of Neosporin on the gaping wound in my heart.

  All I could do was nod my head up and down while attempting to say, “Mm-hmm,” to signal I was okay. I wasn’t.

  Reading the situation, Father Thomes attempted to pull the rip cord on my nosedive into the vast expanse of my self-pity pit, and asked, “What’s the plan to deal with the warlock?”

  “Oh, right, yeah,” I said, sucking through my nose hard and swallowing the excess of a fierce sniffle. I told him the plan and he nodded excitedly.

  “I think that will work just fine. I would ask that you bring the Spear of Destiny to me once he is dealt with. A powerful weapon such as that demands safekeeping.”

  The snarky part of me wanted to retort with something about how Ulric hadn’t been kept very secure, but my growing filter between brain and mouth aborted the words. Father Thomes was clearly shaken up about the life or lives that had been lost due to Ulric already, and it wouldn’t be fair to add insult to injury. Especially considering it wasn’t his fault, though I wouldn’t be able to convince him otherwise.

  “Then we will deal with Ulric. Make sure the workers have the room ready before I get back, with any needed improvements. Money is of no concern. Hell, make the whole damn thing outta silver if you have to.”

  “Thank you, John. I’ll ask the workers to start on his room first.”

  “To battle!” I dramatically exclaimed before striding down the hallway. Something teased my mind, and I turned to ask, “Hey, what if I just made some more vampires? Then Ulric wouldn’t even be a factor in the prophecy, right?”

  “Would you be willing to damn your soul to do so?”

  The Archangel Gabriel came to mind, informing me that Depweg would not go to Heaven, not only because of the countless dead but because of the mortal he had passed his were virus onto.

  “Ah, right. No, I’m not exactly ready to give up my golden ticket just yet.”

  “Understandable. Bring Ulric back in one piece, please.”

  “That’s a Texas-sized ten-four right there, good buddy. I’ll grab his wittle ear and bring him back to his time-out room like the naughty child he is.”

  “See that you do. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go speak to the foreman.”

  “Yeah, uh, what are you going to tell them about the worker?” I asked, pointing at the eavesdropping husk.

  “I’ll have to determine that based on how the conversation progresses with the men outside. If they are regularly contracted by Special Agent Baker—”

  “Special Agent in Charge Baker,” I corrected, holding an index finger to the sky.

  “Right, if they are used to working with Special Agent in Charge Baker, then the truth won’t get me thrown into a mental institution.”

  “Mmm, good point! Didn’t even think about that. Anyway, I’ll let you know once we have the Grand Master Warlock under control.”

  “May the Light be with you, my son.”

  15

  I left the church, casually waving to the men as I walked by. A supervisor was on the phone while constantly nodding his head in agreement to whatever order he was receiving from the person on the other end of the line. I did not receive a return wave.

  On the street, I turned my head and saw the fire trucks had almost finished putting out all the flames. Not a single fatality, at least guessing by the lack of city morgue vehicles. Then again, I wasn’t sure if that was a real thing or something they just showed on TV.

  I walked down the street until I was out of sight and then blurred the rest of the way to my home, opting to use my feet rather than my wings.

  The Fortress of Solitaire was empty. A single yellow Post-it note sat in stark contrast to the black stone of the countertop. I picked it up, seeing it was a message for Joey.

  “Why didn’t they just text him,” I asked the empty lair.

  There was a box on the coffee table with another Post-it note, and I walked over to it.

  “For John” was all it said. I crumpled the note, letting it drop to the table, and tore open the brown Amazon box. Inside was a new pair of steel-toed Doc Martens, size eleven.

  Pulling the beautiful black leather out of the box, I sat on the chair and went to put on my new boots when I noticed my socks had been torn to shreds from running so fast.

  “Ah, crap. Better not let Lily see these,” I whispered to myself thinking about how ri-ri-ri…not wrong she was about how hard I was on my belongings.

  Taking my socks off and throwing them in the shoe box, I stood and made my way to my room, where I gently opened the door. Once inside, I tiptoed to my drawer and pulled out a fresh pair of socks before sneaking back to the living room, stopping to give the coffin a longing look. I just wanted to climb into bed with her and sleep off my problems.

  With a smile at how absurd my idea was, I shut my door and sat on the chair, slipping my fresh socks and then brand-new boots over my feet. I stood up, jumped up and down a tad, then made a cool ninja kick while quietly mouthing, “Whaaaa, oooo, yaaaa!” like all the movie ninjas.

  “What are you doing, lover?” Lily asked, startling me from behind and making my extended words hike in pitch. I turned to face her, my mouth in a surprised “O” expression with high eyebrows. “Oh, yes. I saw everything.”

  Owning the situation, I let my surprise drop and said, “Pfft, whatev’s. I’m the coolest kid in school. You know it, I know it, and Mr. T knows it.”

  “Mr. T?”

  “Yeah, you know, ‘he pities the fool that ain’t cool’, or something like that.”

  “I think you are manipulating television quotes to suit your needs,” Lily said, crossing her arms under her breasts, making me take notice immediately. She noticed me noticing and let her arms drop to her sides.

  “Still not feeling okay?” I asked, concerned.

  “I’ll be fine soon enough. I just need some more rest.”

  “Well, there’s food in the kitchen. Feel f
ree to grab whatever you need.”

  “Thank you, sweet John.” Her eyes swept around the lair, and she asked, “Where is everyone?”

  “Setting up a trap for a soon-to-be-dead warlock.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Um, Ulric escaped and I had to make sure Father Thomes was okay.”

  “He…he escaped? Are you kidding? What’s with that guy? He just doesn’t give up!”

  “Well, to be fair, he kinda totally had his cell door just opened by a hapless mortal.”

  “It was just opened?” Lily asked, her arms crossing under her chest again, but this time it wasn’t as cute as before. The scowl on her face told me all I needed to know. “John, if he dies…” Lily trailed off, trying to find the words.

  “I know, don’t worry. I’ll get him back. Just need to take care of the warlock first.”

  “Why?” Lily asked aggressively.

  “Because A) he is going directly for Depweg and me, and 2)…Well, it’s really just that one thing.”

  “The warlock is going after you to start the damn apocalypse, right?” Lily asked, stomping forward to glare right into my widening eyes.

  “Ye-yeah? That’s why we need to stop him,” I answered, leaning back at the hips to provide a modicum of space between her angry eyes and my face.

  “What if he just kills Ulric instead? Isn’t Ulric more vulnerable than you?”

  “I, ah…Well, he doesn’t have Mjolnir or my sweet cold-iron sword, or as much strength. Or friends…so yeah, he’s fucked.”

  “We’re fucked, John. Sweet Mother Earth, if the warlock gets his hands on Ulric…”

  “We might as well hand him the keys to the end of creation,” I drawled, returning to a normal standing position.

  “John! We have to find Ulric!” Lily decided, letting her body shimmer, clothing herself in Fae armor. I noticed her eyes shifting to violet. I vaguely wondered what color her natural eyes were.

  “Aren’t you injured?”

  “We don’t have time to argue. Let’s go,” she commanded, grabbing my arm and all but dragging me to the door.

  “Lily,” I started, halting in place. She whirled on me. “You’re too weak. Please, rest.”

  “I am strong enough to destroy entire armies, vampire. Do not think me weak.”

  “I know how strong you are. But if you’re out there, I’ll be weak. I can’t second-guess any decision.”

  “I can look out for myself,” she barked, then a flash crossed her eyes. “I could command you, if I was so inclined, and you would have to obey.”

  She was referencing the life debt I owed her since she had brought me back from the brink of death after my battle with Locke.

  “You could command me to do anything you wish, and in doing so, you would lose the one thing I would never be able to give again.” My eyes were cold yet pleading. It wasn’t a threat I was making, simply an observation on the situation and the consequences therein.

  Lily seemed to understand her blunder because she stumbled forward and landed in my arms, tears welling in her eyes. She hit my chest with a fist, and then hit it again with a cry of frustration.

  “I can’t lose you,” she whispered. A thin spit bubble formed in her mouth as she whimpered with a gaping jaw, then pushed her face into my chest, sobbing.

  “You won’t,” I lied, brushing her hair with my fingers. Her armor shimmered again and a long sleeve knit sweater and comfy-looking sweatpants were left behind. “Thank you, Lily,” I softly said to her as I kissed the top of her head gingerly. She had the comforting scent of my own pillow mixed with the aroma of a field of blooming flowers. I could have stayed there forever, inhaling her essence through my nostrils.

  “Come back to me, please. Please come back to me,” she said while fighting to regain her composure, and losing.

  “Nothing, not even Hell, will keep me from you.”

  “I-I love you, John,” she burst out, as if keeping the fact secret was poisoning her insides and had to get it out.

  “I know,” I said with a coy smile and eyes that were brimming with emotion.

  “You promise you’ll come back?” she asked as she squeezed the arms that were wrapped around my torso. Though she didn’t say it, she knew what I meant with my response to her declaration of love.

  “I promise,” I whispered as I set my cheek on her soft, beautiful hair. My eyes went unfocused and stared off into the distance, feeling the prod of worry blossoming at my core.

  Something wasn’t right about all of this.

  I walked Lily to my room, kissed her as she lay down in my coffin, and began to close the lid. She fought to keep her eyes open until the cover was sealed in place, attempting to let her eyes soak in the sight of me for as long as possible. I fought to maintain a warm smile as the feeling of unease exhaled its hot breath on the back of my neck.

  Making my way to the front door, I let my mind off the leash.

  What is wrong here? I asked myself. There’re too many damn coincidences. Someone isn’t playing fair!

  The smiling face of Special Agent in Charge Collin Baker sprang to mind, causing me to stop undead in my tracks.

  “Baker,” I let out. Baker’s men had freed Ulric. It had been the first thing they had gone for once inside. I gritted my teeth and clenched my fists as I made my way up the stairs into my mausoleum. “Fucking lying government asshole,” I barked through my teeth.

  Father Thomes was right. The government wanted control over the gates of Hell, and they knew—they knew—Ulric was the weaker target between the two of us. Hell, they might even convince him to work for them, for all I knew.

  Later. First, I needed to kill Silver and stop Asmodeus.

  Ah, shit, I inwardly scolded myself. I had forgotten to ask the father about how to stop the demon lord.

  The image of my mortal friend lying helpless on his back, unable even to get up, suggested that the father wouldn’t have been able to offer much in the way of advice. Or worse, he might insist he fight the damn thing. Stood to reason that the very man that had suggested Depweg might have to sacrifice himself to save his soul might act in a similar way if he was, indeed, worried about the freed Ulric potentially damning his soul.

  I made my way outside, shutting the lair tightly behind me. As I did, I realized I was trying to contain Lily under the guise of protecting her. I wasn’t even sure why I wasted my time with the thought, since I knew she could simply shift out of my home and to the safety of Faerie. That, and one would be able to escape quite easily if they were already inside. Heck, if I was being honest, apparently it was also no terrific feat to break into my home as well. Lilith, I’d really have to consider all options when it came time to build my mansion.

  I looked up into the sky and felt a cold breeze, which my mind immediately noted as being odd. The warm air of the night swallowed the rogue wind, and I dropped the thought.

  Crouching down, I manifested my bloodwings as I leaped into the night to go kill Silver and his pet demon.

  16

  As I flew, a nagging thought persisted: was SAC Baker manipulating me as a means to an end? I honestly didn’t get the impression that I was being used by him. He seemed genuine in his expression to ally ourselves.

  I don’t know. Maybe everything that was happening could be attributed to the flavor of shit luck that ol’ John Cook was accustomed to.

  To accentuate my point, the universe screamed, “A new player has entered the game,” right as a lasso of energy wrapped around my neck, yanking me down toward the ground.

  “SHIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIT!” I calmly stated—almost as a yawn rather than a shriek—as I flew toward the hard earth like an asteroid. An unseen cushion of air halted my fall before disappearing, leaving me to collapse to the ground in a heap.

  “The FUCK, man!” I cried out as I rolled on the ground, letting my mind relax and catching my metaphorical breath. I wasn’t concerned about the intentions of my assailant after the somewhat soft landing.


  “Jonathan Cook, we need to have a chat,” a female voice oozing with the type of authority that only a civil servant could muster said. She had a tone of voice that was deeper in timbre than the average pitch predominately associated with women, but still held a bountiful measure of femininity. Fierce yet sultry came to mind.

  “It’s just John,” I groaned as I got to my feet, aggressively patting at the dirt on my beautiful trench coat. Looking around, I quickly found my assailant. She was about five foot eight, with a face full of freckles, almost like she had been at an off-road mudding event in a Jeep with the doors and roof off. A wide yet tight brown bun told me she must have either really thick or really long hair. A stern face with intelligent blue eyes sat above a square, symmetrical jaw. Even with the deeper voice and prominent chin, she could have been just as comfortable in a fancy dress at a black-tie gala as dual-wielding an MP5 submachine gun and a long sword.

  At the moment, she was clad in a dense gray cloak which wrapped around her entire body like a raincoat. There were two slits that ran from either side of her torso near her armpits and went all the way to her feet, effectively creating a sort of tabard down the center. Upon it, right in the center of her chest, was the seal of the Council, a capital T with a smaller, upside down half circle in the middle, almost like a flipped U. Or I suppose it could be a C turned sideways. Regardless, I was versed enough to know what the symbol meant.

  In her right hand was a wand with glowing sigils up its length. Earth tones of the bluest sky, rich brown, and the yellow of the sun’s rays piercing white clouds rolled in random succession.

 

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