by Regine Abel
Agent Thomson nodded. “Over the next six months, he took her to your world during the Mist and brought her back before the alarm went off.” He gave me a side glance full of emotion before returning his eyes to the road. “I’d never seen my daughter so happy. The inevitable happened. Risul couldn’t handle mortal life, so she followed him into the Mist. I buried my daughter a little over eight years ago. Yet, every month, I spend the three days of the Mist with them, either in your world or here.”
“I am very happy for you and your daughter,” I said after swallowing another sip of the delicious broth. “It warms my heart that they found each other.”
The agent smiled. “It took me no time to recognize that you were like him, merely trying to make some other man’s daughter happy, like Risul had done for mine. But Nightmares are all that agents remember. Please don’t judge us too harshly.”
“I don’t. I understand all too well what ravages a single Nightmare can cause.” Tilting my head, I gave him a questioning look. “You encounter many of them every Mist?”
Agent Thomson snorted. “No. They’re extremely rare. Very few of your kind crossover. Among those who do, many die within the first couple of days, too weak or clueless to adapt to our world. You were smart,” he said, giving a side glance full of respect. “You carefully planned your arrival in a safe birth place. You have no idea how many of your peers get devoured by Mistbeasts halfway through forming their human shell. In truth, Men in Black is a rather pompous title for the cleanup crew. After the Mist, we mostly spend our time disposing of the remains of Beasts and Walkers who failed to get back through the Veil, dealing with missing persons, Mist Pacts, or false Mist tragedies used to hide domestic homicides.”
“I’m sorry for that,” I said. “But that there are so few Nightmares is a relief.”
He nodded. “It is. If not for that Nightmare, you’d have been the most exciting thing to have happened to the department in a few years. Now that Kazan Dale is no more, how about a career in the Fourth Division? We could use a Hunter like you.”
I snorted. “No thanks. I’m definitely not a monster hunter. Jade wouldn’t permit it anyway.”
“Figures,” he said, with a mocking smile.
“I’m sorry about your partner,” I said, abruptly changing the topic.
Thomson sighed and shook his head at the wasted life.
“Don’t be. He’d been losing it for a while. I’m just sorry you and Ms. Eastwood had to suffer so much for it. At least, that incident has forced us to revise our process for emotional and psychological evaluation of the agents frequently exposed to stress situations.”
I was about to answer when I noticed we weren’t heading towards City Center but away from town. My head jerked towards him, not wanting to believe he could be betraying me.
“Relax, son,” Thomson said, having noticed my unease. “After your funeral, Ms. Eastwood moved to Covington to be closer to her sister. But before I take you there, we need to make a slight detour to one of our safe houses so that we can get some official pictures of you for your remaining IDs; passport, driver’s license, etc.”
Twenty-five minutes after leaving my birth shed, we reached an inconspicuous looking little house in a quiet neighborhood. Agent Thomson… Al… made me shower, fix my disheveled hair, and put on a black sweater better fitted to my new size before we took the pictures. I actually welcomed the opportunity to make myself a bit more presentable before seeing Jade again.
I hope she will like this new body.
It took the agent thirty minutes to finish assembling my IDs, and then another twenty-minute drive before we reached Jade’s quaint little stone cottage. My pulse pounded into my throat as I looked at the shuttered windows, knowing the love of my life was inside, only meters away from me.
“This is your new start, Mr. Winters,” Al said, extending me a folder. “Your name doesn’t appear in any Fourth Division file. To us, you are just another law-abiding citizen, born of human parents. I hope we never meet again.”
Throat constricted, I nodded and shook his hand. “I hope we never meet again in this world, but maybe we’ll cross paths in the Mist.”
The older man smiled. “Maybe. Now go on and make your woman happy. She’s waited a long time for you.”
Swallowing hard, I nodded again and got out of the car. The crunching sound of freshly fallen snow under my boots drowned beneath the erratic beating of my heart as I walked up to the door. In spite of the cold air stabbing at my lungs, I took a deep, fortifying breath before ringing the bell.
My body thrumming with trepidation, I feared for a moment that she’d still be fast asleep. Jade slept like the dead. No amount of ringing would have wakened her. When the shutters began to rise, my heart leapt in my chest.
The inner wooden door opened slightly, Jade’s magnificent green eyes peeking through the narrow slit. They widened in shock. I held my breath as she opened it wide, her hand clutching my brand over the silky, green robe covering her nightgown. Her lips quivered, and her body trembled as she stared at me through the screen door.
“My Jade,” I whispered.
“Kazan,” she mouthed.
Something caught Jade’s eyes, and she peered behind me. Looking over my shoulder, I watched Agent Thomson raise a hand in farewell, then drive off. I turned back to Jade to find her fumbling with the lock. I took a step back as she pushed it open. Taking a couple of steps forward, I stopped on the threshold of her house where I stood transfixed before her.
“You came back,” she whispered. “You came back.”
“I will always come back to you, Jade. I have crossed the Veil a hundred times to be with you. Nothing, not even death, can keep us apart.”
Tears of joy filled her eyes as she extended her arms towards me. “My Kazan,” she said, smiling through her tears.
Her blessing received, I stepped over the threshold and pulled her into my arms. Our lips found each other’s. Wrapped in the divine emotions of my beloved, I knew that this time, my journey had ended. I was home.
* * *
Jade
Even six years after that most improbable day when Kazan… correction, Kyle returned to me, I never tired of gazing on the perfection that was my man. His new body had taken a bit of getting used to. Six-foot-four instead of six-foot-seven had significantly improved his quality of life and made my own neck happier now that I no longer needed to crank it all the way back to look up at him. Although I’d loved his old bodybuilder, barbarian-warrior, bulging muscles self, this book-cover-model-I-want-to-lick-those-crazy-abs new body was exactly what I’d truly, secretly wanted. While still sharing quite a few similarities with his old face, this one was more manly handsome and less boyishly pretty than the previous. With his black hair and the same stormy grey eyes I’d loved so much, he could have passed for Kazan’s brother or relative.
After our steamy reunion, I’d berated him for not contacting me sooner during the Mist. Turns out we’d spent all these months together in my dreams which I would immediately forget in the morning. He’d been too weak upon his return to his realm to draw me in during the Mist.
It had freaked me out to learn that after his death, he’d barely made it back to his realm, the sliver of him remaining being barely stronger than a spark; a newborn Wish. He’d spent the first three months hiding from stronger Mist beings intent on feeding off of him while he personally hunted flickering Wishes that hadn’t achieved self-awareness and therefore didn’t flee in the presence of predators. By the start of the fourth month, he was strong enough to begin taking on lesser beasts. By the sixth, he’d been back to his old self. Going through mortal birth at the seventh month had been reckless, having spent only one month building his reserves after those six months of healing.
Still, I couldn’t thank enough whatever powers allowed him to survive his ordeal and for letting him return to me.
While part of Kazan’s ethereal form had turned to ashes upon his death—hence his weakened state
back in the Mist—he explained that most of the ashes that had crumbled around him had actually resulted from Morgan’s life force, which he had sucked in the night prior.
Walking up to my man seated on a stool as he worked, I ran my fingers through his raven hair, admiring his latest piece. With Kazan’s death, Kyle couldn’t pursue his career where he had left off. Instead of hyper realistic paintings, he took on hyper realistic sculpting. If not for the monster love theme of his pieces, he’d give Ron Mueck a run for his money.
“It’s stunning,” I whispered, as he put the final touches to the life-size sculpture of a naked woman in the loving embrace of a werewolf, breastfeeding a newborn child wrapped in a red cloak, with two little half-human, half-wolf pups leaning on each side of their father and trying to peek at their young sibling. “It’s got to be my favorite.”
He chuckled and wrapped an arm around my waist, drawing me to him. “You say that with every new piece. I thought the scaly alien with horns was your favorite.”
“He is, too! It’s your fault if I’m confused. Each of your pieces surpasses the others!” I exclaimed before kissing the top of his head.
“Why, thank you, my love,” Kyle said, beaming at me. “Is that your way of saying you want to play with the wolf tonight?”
I felt myself blush and a swarm of butterflies took off in the pit of my stomach. “Maybe? I haven’t seen that bushy tail in a while,” I said coyly, leaning in to kiss him.
“Mommy! Mommy! Aunt Laura is here!” the shrill voice of our daughter screamed, startling me before my lips could even touch my husband’s.
The stampeding sound of our children’s little feet increased in volume as they came racing into the studio.
“Slow down, you little hellions!” I exclaimed as they came barreling towards us. “What did I say about coming inside the studio?” I asked in a stern voice.
“No running,” said Matt, my youngest, although it sounded more like ‘wunning.’ He scrunched up his adorable, three-year-old face, so similar to his father’s.
“No fighting and no throwing stuff at my infur… insafu…”
“Insufferable,” I said on her behalf.
“Yes! Insufable little brother,” Serena said, making a face at him.
Kyle and I chuckled. He rose to his feet and, together, we went to greet my sister who’d babysit the children for us while we made sure to replenish my husband’s ethereal reserves.
The City Defense Alarm went off just as we finished dinner.
“Oooh, can we open the shutters and watch the Beasts?” Matt asked, his stormy eyes pleading.
“No!” Serena shouted, turning identical grey eyes towards her sibling, one year younger than she.
“You know it gives your sister nightmares,” Kyle said, reprovingly.
Matt stared at his sister, eyes full of mischief, then started making clucking sounds.
“You little…!”
Serena sprang out of her chair to chase after her brother, but Kyle caught her on the fly, drawing her to his lap.
“You two keep fighting, and we won’t take you to the Mist,” Kyle said, a warning in his voice.
Both children gasped and babbled almost in unison, begging to come and promising to be good.
“We’ll take you to the Mist tomorrow night IF Aunt Laura tells us you’ve behaved all day,” I said, trying to keep a severe expression on my face as I looked at my little demons.
For all the pranks and teasing, my children loved each other.
A couple of hours later, with our children bathed, teeth brushed, and tucked into their beds, we read them a bedtime story before kissing them goodnight. Ignoring Laura’s suggestive wink as I wished her goodnight as well, I let my husband lead me by the hand to our bedroom.
Moments later, I found myself running through the Mist-filled woods of the dream world, naked but for my red, hooded cape, chased by a hungry wolf intent on capturing me. My heart pounded at the sound of his steps closing in on me, eager to claim his most willing prize.
He caught me, pinning me to the soft ground covered by cushion-like moss.
“Foolish girl,” he growled, “you shouldn’t have entered my domain. Now, I’m going to ravish and then devour you.”
“Do your worst, beast!”
“I am no beast,” he purred in his rumbling voice, before licking the brand over my exposed breast. “I am the monster in the Mist.”
My monster. My Kazan. My greatest Wish.
THE END.
ABOUT REGINE
Regine Abel is a fantasy, paranormal and sci-fi junky. Anything with a bit of magic, a touch of the unusual, and a lot of romance will have her jumping for joy. Hot alien warriors meeting no-nonsense, kick-ass heroine give her warm fuzzies. Through her Veredian Chronicles series, Regine will take you to an exciting alien world full of mystery, action, passion and new beginnings. Follow Amalia and her Veredian sisters as they fight for their freedom and the right to love.
When not writing or reading, Regine surrenders to the other passion in her life: video games! As a professional Game Designer and Creative Director, her career has led her from her home in Canada to the US and various countries in Europe and Asia.
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REGINE’S OTHER BOOKS
THE VEREDIAN CHRONICLES
Escaping Fate
Losing Amalia
Blind Fate
Raising Amalia
Twist of Fate
BRAXIANS
Anton’s Grace
DARK TALES
Bluebeard’s Curse
The Mistwalker
VALOS OF SONHADRA
Unfrozen
Iced
XIAN WARRIORS
Legion
THE SHADOW REALMS
Dark Swan