by Lita Stone
“I receive your blessing, Galmoria,” Isaac snarled.
She purred. Lips parted, her forked tongue caressed her fangs. “Bless you, my son, and your bitch.”
Isaac snatched her by the throat and lifted her up. “You tried to have my mate killed.” He roared and flung her body far into the boiling sea. She splashed and sank like a stone. The sea wolf moaned toward the dark gray heavens above.
Good riddance to the cunt.
As he walked towards the sea, the large wolf began to shiver and shake. A painful barking-moan tore from its lips. The wolf's body split in half as though an unseen axe had cleaved through it.
With a loud thump and splash the wolf's entrails spilled across the beach and flowed into the sea. Standing between the two halves was Galmoria. Green pants and a green tunic clung to her curves. A green bandana circled her forehead. The wolf's blood and entrails had dyed her raven hair to scarlet red.
She approached, leather boots clomping loudly on the stone ground. When she was within arm's reach she drew a silver sword from her side. “Do you like mother's new outfit?” Galmoria untied her green robe to reveal a green bra holding her large breasts tightly against her chest. She trailed a finger between her breasts to her navel where she drew circles in her belly button. “You must find the one named Amy in that realm of Buckeye. She is the beloved and the key to our evolution.”
Galmoria twirled. “She’ll look like this.” Her red hair turned blonde and she wore denim shorts and a white halter top. Galmoria stuck out her tongue, an oblong shaped black jewel embedded in the tip.
Isaac snatched the jeweled-tongue and tore it free from Galmoria's mouth. He glared at its midnight coloring. It should be crimson, not black. He pitched the gem into the water and gripped her neck. “I want the Narkush you devil wench!”
The skin on her neck turned to flame.
Isaac roared and snapped his paw back.
“It is the Narkush, my foolish son.” She held out her open hand. The black devil stone appeared on her palm. “It is special and will grant you great strength. It bestows the gift of immortality and indestructability. With it, you will rule over all the Zodiacs. And none will dare challenge your authority.”
“And what if I refuse this ‘gift’.”
“Then I will bestow it upon another Geminus and you, your whelp and your future cubs will be enslaved by him, just as the rest of the Zodiacs.”
If only he could kill the fucking cunt!
Isaac heaved a deep sigh. He took the gem from her.
“Embed that Narkush onto your mate then have it transferred to the Beloved.” She leaned forward and planted cold bloody lips onto his cheek.
Recoiling, he growled. “I will not expire one of her nine lives without just cause.”
“If you wish to rule as the King of all then you will do as mother asks.”
Shedding her clothes, she sauntered toward the sea, still holding the silver long sword. Galmoria waded into the waters, turned toward him. With the sword lifted, she began sinking beneath the ocean.
The sky, beach and water dissipated, fading into white, leaving nothing but a distant still silhouette of the drowning blonde girl.
#
As the landscape of the sepia forest loomed closer, Rourn divulged wisdom that could only come from beyond the cosmic realms of life and death and beyond.
“The longer you remain in this space-time warp the threat for multiversal destruction is imminent. Remain too long before escaping and you will return to a distant future of the reality in whence you entered; or worse, you may never return at all. In either of those cases the timeline will be ultimately skewed and all universes may suffer beyond comprehension.
“It has been laid upon me now, a divergence in the proper timeline already, that I must guide you to the cosmic thread wherein you can return to modern Buckeye, Texas.”
“Won’t you return as well?”
“I cannot,” Rourn said. “The Dark Trinity kept to his promise in giving me the position as a Spirit Guide. It was always my destiny declared by the stars and planets beyond the comprehension of mortal men. The Order mistakened me as a warrior, yet the universal forces beyond flesh and bone never made such follies.”
“Then alone I shall stand against the Beast who took your life and took you from me.”
“But you shall not stand alone, my brother. There is another and soon you will know him, and know his role within all of this threatening madness.”
The pale woodlands of Sacred Oaks drew near. The trees and shrubbery loomed more gloomily than any lost and forgotten ghost of antiquity. Forlorn and melancholy, concealed in dreary paleness, and mournful patience.
“Come quickly before it is too late,” Rourn urged as he dashed boldly into the beige forest.
Atticus sprinted after Rourn. Their pace accelerated the closer they drew to the woodland edge. Rourn’s wispy silhouette sailed into the somber thicket.
Before long Atticus stood beside the cloudy water that rested lifelessly and dull. Yet, upon the ashen wood porch of the nearby breezeway house was a behemoth scorpion that challenged the size of any stallion Atticus had ever beheld. It capered about the porch, stinger raised, beckoning his challenge.
“What monster is this?” Atticus asked.
Rourn said, “The gateway thread back to your time is beneath the pond. You must seek it out immediately.”
Below the depths of the still waters, Atticus realized, was where Rourn meant for him to go.
“I won’t leave you,” Atticus said.
The scorpion crept off the porch and hurried its way toward them.
“Destiny never meant for you to do this alone. You will find your allies in Buckeye.”
“But you are my Twin!”
The scorpion scurried along the edge of the pond; its beady eyes piercing Atticus.
“I am not your Twin.” Rourn shoved Atticus into the pond.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Ira touched Lynn's sweat-soaked forehead and glided her fingers down her new mistress' cheeks. Warm, shallow breaths exhaled from Lynn's parted lips as did trickles of saliva. Ira peeled the brown satin sheet from Lynn's naked body. The bottom sheet was saturated in sweat even though Ira had already changed the linens once in the last twelve hours.
Weakened not only by the metamorphosis but also by her mate’s physical ailments from his battle with the demon mother, Mistress Lynn lay in a deep sleep.
But Ira knew that if she did not wake soon the metamorphosis would drain every ounce of her life and consume her.
When she finished cleaning the bed sheets, working carefully around Mistress Lynn's body, she dressed her in a clean silky red nightgown and soared downstairs to fetch a platter of raw veal.
Sitting the food on the foot of the bed, Ira plucked a piece of the tender meat and touched it to Mistress Lynn's lips. Red juices dripped onto the corners of her mouth, trailing down her chin, but Ira could not get Lynn to part her lips.
“Your life is fading without the nutrients it needs. You must eat. Please.”
“No,” Lynn replied weakly.
Isaac had generously given Ira asylum from purgatory for so many years. Ira would not fail him. “But Mistress, if you starve to death that will mean the death of Isaac.”
“Isaac...” Lynn moaned. “Where is Isaac? I want Isaac.” Lynn spoke but her eyes never opened.
“Isaac will return soon,” Ira said. “But Master does not wish to return home and find a starved carcass of his mate.” Ira forced a chunk of the meat between Lynn's lips. “If not for yourself, then for your mate.”
Lynn's teeth clamped on Ira's fingers, but the wraith phased her hand out. Lynn gagged. Ira clenched Lynn’s jaw shut and forced her to chew. “Please forgive me, Mistress, but this is the only way.”
Tears formed in Mistress Lynn's reddened eyes and fell onto the ivory pillowcase. She grunted. Muffled moans from her upper torso filled her closed mouth.
Ira fed Lynn two more sla
bs of meat before retrieving a pitcher of iced water and assisting Lynn in drinking.
“Very good, Mistress, very good.” Ira patted Lynn on the forehead.
Lynn’s eyes flared yellow.
Flinging herself backwards, Ira hovered in the doorway. “Rest now, Mistress. Your metamorphosis is nearly complete.”
#
The still water possessed the consistency of wispy cotton rather than fluid, yet Atticus sank to the bottom. It was immediately evident that he did not have to hold his breath. The murky blackness flecked with slivers of ashen splotches surrounded him. And he made a graceful landing on the pond’s supple bed.
In the close distance beamed a phantasmic pale blue pillar.
The cosmic gate.
When he walked it was like stepping through air. There was no pressure from the engulfing water, nor any resistance to his forward motion.
As he grew closer to the glowing pillar the black murkiness gave way. The pillar, Atticus realized, cast a bright torch light.
When was only mere feet away from the light several things registered to him at once. First, was the circular design etched into the supple pond floor where the beam of light emanated from.
Secondly, were the naked men and a few women bounded to the circle with heavy iron ball and chains. Their eyes nothing more than dread filled watery blisters and their mouths agape revealing severed tongues. Contrary to their ghoulish visages they reacted lively to his arrival by lashing out to the length their restraints would allow.
But the most frightening of all was the unbound aberrant creature that floated among them as though it was only affected by true water. Its body captured the size of a crocodile, but the physical appearance of a silvery catfish; multiple spindly legs more suitable for a spider shoved against the currents water. The bronze skinned face of a rugged woman with catfish whiskers and tangled mess of seaweed hair regarded him with curiosity.
“What wicked evil is this?” Atticus said, aloud, and realized he could speak normally.
Even the creature surprisingly recoiled when he spoke. Her skinny stem-like legs thrashed and she bared diminutive flat-edged teeth.
Atticus examined the bound men and women to discover they had countless tiny wounds covering every part of their bodies. Whatever this abomination was it had been slowly feasting on these wretched people.
The monster launched its repulsive body toward him.
Atticus dodged. He unsheathed his sword.
The creature doubled back. Its tail end swayed to and fro to gather momentum. Atticus held his blade at the ready, feet firmly planted, teeth clenched.
The fish-woman torpedoed straight for him.
Atticus ducked, but held his sword up so to split the creature in half. Instead, the monstrosity passed right through the blade.
Was it a ghost?
When it swerved around to counter strike him with two spider legs the gangly limbs passed harmlessly through Atticus.
Both Atticus and the monster held each other’s baffled gazes.
“You don’t even exist in this plane,” Atticus said. “Yet, you very well do.” He sheathed his blade and tittered. Stranger things than Rourn or he had ever imagined plagued the multiverse.
Without further delay, he stepped beyond the circle of chained ghouls and into the cosmic portal back to the modern day Buckeye.
Back to battle the Geminus Beast.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
After a night of hot and sexy fun, Amy woke with a smile. Wearing only Shane’s over-sized Vultures T-shirt which draped to her knees, she rubbed sleep from her eyes. She walked to the back porch. A cane fishing pole in her hand, Amy padded barefoot across the lawn, through the woods along the well-cut path leading to Walker’s Creek.
The creek ran steady with mostly clear water. Perfect day to catch some bluegills.
Amy grabbed the carton of worms from the ground. She dug her fingers into the moist black soil until she found a squirming night crawler. She sat with legs crossed on the bank of the creek and began threading the worm onto her hook.
Shane gave her a smile and cast his line into the water.
She pictured them forty years from now, doing this same exact thing. The years would take its toll on their bodies, making their bones brittle, their skin wrinkled and their hair silver, but time would only grow their love, not hinder it.
He was the man she promised to spend the rest of her life with, the man she could tell anything to, the man who would support her in the most trying of times.
A beast wanted her soul. Pretty gosh darn trying, she thought.
Shane would want to know if something or someone was trying to hurt her. He would want to protect her. If the situation was reversed, she’d want to know if he was in danger. She’d want to help him.
Reveal to Shane about my existence and the warning I bring.
Startled at Tobias’ unexpected presence, she grimaced. Her mind was no longer her own. Embarrassed he heard her thoughts, she felt her face flush.
You want me to tell Shane about you? she silently asked. Why?
I wish for my father to know of me.
Amy’s heart raced and felt as if it might jump out of her throat. Shane’s your father?
Tobias remained predictably quiet.
Who the hell was Tobias’ mother? Somebody he’s cheating on her with?
And to think that she’d thought about them growing old and loving each other forever! Now she wanted to rip Shane’s face off and stomp all over his balls.
Amy jumped to her feet and began muttering aloud, not giving a pig’s twisted tail if Shane heard her. “You ask me to trust everything you say, yet you obviously don’t trust me with the whole truth. I want to know everything. Who you are. Who I am. Where you’re from. And what Shane has to do with all this. Start talking or I swear I’ll ring the dinner bell and let this beast have his way with me.”
Silence in her head.
The creek whispered softly.
Amy groaned. “Tell me who your mother is or I swear I’ll do it. I’ll give myself to the beast. Screw saving the world and all that bull crap. The game’s over, Tobias, or whoever you are.”
You are my mother.
Amy’s vision blurred. The woods swirled around her. She took a deep breath and paced faster. “That’s impossible. I think I’d remember if I gave birth. Stop lying to me.”
She heard a rustling sound and the loud crashing of water, like a waterfall.
When Tobias responded his words came in a burst. I am inside of you.
“You’re in my head. I got that, already.” The sound of water trickling resounded in her mind. “Are you near water?”
I am inside your womb. Splashing sounds followed the squawking of a large bird.
My womb? Amy gasped, her palm slipped over her stomach. You can’t mean what I think you mean.
The one called Shane is my true father and you are my true mother.
Moisture filled her eyes. How is this possible? My period isn’t due for almost a week?
I am eleven days into conception. And I have only learned the truth of my origins in recent weeks.
A nervous laughter trickled from her trembling lips. You’re quite intelligent for a fetus.
My fetus serves as the conduit allowing me to speak to you from the future. Nineteen years from your present date.
Shane watched Amy pace. It was bad enough that she spouted nonsense about giving herself to a beast but to make matters worse, she spouted this nonsense to herself, or nobody or… somebody? Who the fuck is she talking to?
She looked pale and nervous. He set his rod against a tree and went to her. Gripping her elbow, he asked, “Babe? You feeling okay?”
Amy gave him a wide, shit-eating grin, which only escalated his concern. It was the same expression she had when she told him about the mind-blowing orgasms her aunt swore to, just from placing her shoes toe-to-toe under the bed right before she got laid.
He frowned, gripping her
arm tighter. “Talk to me.”
She shook her head and raised her hands, as if surrendering to an unseen army. “Okay, here goes.” She exhaled loudly. “I met a boy.” She giggled. “Or a man, depending on how you look at it.”
A flash of heat blazed throughout Shane’s body. Queasy knots rolled inside him, twisting his nerves. Sweat bubbled on his forehead. “A man?”
“Not a real man. I mean he is real but he’s only in my head. I know it sounds crazy. Really crazy. But he’s real and he wants me to tell you…”
Shane held up a hand, palm out. “I’ve heard enough.” He clenched his teeth, facial muscles hardened.
Her eyes grew wide. She shrugged away from his firm grasp. “Please. I have to tell you more. He’s from the future.”
Cupping her chin, he peered down at her. God help him, she was beautiful. So sweet and loving and passionate. But she might just be bat-shit fuckin’ crazy.
Should he get her therapy? Would they lock her up like her aunt? What about medication? How would that change her?
He didn’t want her changed. He loved her just as she was. Amy may be a loon, but she was his loon, and he’d be damned if he was going to let anyone drug her up or lock her away where he couldn’t see or touch her without someone in a white coat observing their every movement.
So, she hears voices. Big fuckin’ deal. She’s not a threat to anyone or herself. Maybe Amy and he could keep this man-boy from the future their little secret. As long as this mysterious voice in her head wasn’t telling her to burn down Roxy’s or shoot Sheriff Bowden in the back there was nothing to worry about.
Nobody would have to know she was loco.
Amy wouldn’t hurt anybody. Hell, she had to give every rodent a proper burial just to appease its spirit.
You’ve known she was a kooky broad since you first met her, Baker. Don’t go acting all shocked now. Get your shit together! Better or worse you love her.
“This man that talks to you,” Shane said. “Does he have a name?”