Water Nymph

by Edmund Hughes

  “No!” shouted the looter. “I’ll prove it. We couldn’t even shoot him. Watch.”

  The pistol steadied. Jack sucked in a quick breath, considering his options in the fraction of a second he had to make a move. Shadow Form? Too much of a giveaway. Dodge to the side with his enhanced speed? Maybe. Take the bullet and fake like the wound was worse than it really was? Probably wouldn’t work.

  Jessie chose that moment to make her move. She slammed into the looter and twisted the arm with the gun at a rough angle. The looter let out a shout and dropped his weapon, and then Bruce was on him, too.

  Mira immediately ran over to him and pulled him into a hug, though the mischievous smile on her face let him know that she’d never really been worried. Not in the way the others had been, at least. She knew what he was. He doubted the idea of him being exposed to the world, beyond the attraction it would bring from the Order of Chaldea, was something that bothered her very much.

  “That was so close,” she said, in a dry voice. “He almost killed you.”

  “And I almost killed him,” Jack whispered. “I guess we’re even now.”

  Mira gave him a quick kiss, followed by a long kiss. She pressed against him for a moment, then frowned and glanced downward.

  “Dearest Jack,” she said, in an amused voice. “Do you have something in your pocket? Or was that kiss enough to put you in the mood to play with me again?”

  “I actually do have something in my pocket.” He chuckled and shifted so that the bottle with the nymph in it wasn’t poking Mira in the stomach anymore. “Hold that second thought though. Maybe hold it until I’ve had a good night’s sleep.”

  Jessie had given responsibility of the looter over to Bruce, and she slowly walked toward Jack and Mira. She nodded to him, frowning as she noted his still-damp clothing.

  “I’m surprised you haven’t turned in to your mansion for the night,” said Jessie.

  “Just taking care of a few loose ends,” said Jack. “It’s probably good that I showed up when I did, if just for the sake of being a distraction.”

  “I agree.” Jessie glanced at Mira. “Can I speak with you alone, for a moment?”

  Jack nodded, though her request made him squirm slightly on the inside. Mira parted from him, and Jessie stepped in a little closer.

  “How much of what he was saying was true?” she asked.

  Jack didn’t want to lie to her, but he couldn’t tell her the truth. He opted for something in the middle.

  “The looters admitted to murdering an old man right as I arrived at the theater,” he said. “I tried to reason with them. Give them a chance to surrender. They started firing. People died.”

  Jessie reacted in a manner that was rather odd for someone working a career in law enforcement. A slow smile crept across her expression, and she gave him a resolute nod.

  “That works for me,” she said. “It might not always be this easy for me to… accept your description of events in the future. But this time, given the state of the island, what you say obviously must be what happened.”

  “Obviously,” said Jack. “Listen, there’s something else that you should know. I found an island. A small coral atoll just out of sight from the coast. It’s where a significant number of the bodies have washed up.”

  Jessie licked her lips. She didn’t immediately start asking questions, instead considering both what Jack was telling her and what else she needed to know. It was something that Jack had to respect. She was smart, competent, and knew more about the supernatural than she was letting on.

  “I’ll report it in as soon as things start to stabilize tomorrow morning,” said Jessie. “Did you recognize any of them?”

  “Yeah,” Jack sighed. “Sheriff Carter was one of them.”

  Jessie winced, and then swore under her breath. She exhaled slowly and set her hands on her hips.

  “Dammit,” she said. “He was a good man. I didn’t get much of a chance to get to know him, but that much was easy to see.”

  “Yeah,” said Jack. “He really was.”

  Neither of them said anything for a minute.

  “I guess that means you’re in charge now,” said Jack. “And not a moment too soon.”

  “We’ll see,” said Jessie. “If people end up staying on Lestaron Island, once all is said and done, they might call a vote for the next sheriff. Pick someone with better credentials.”

  “I don’t think people will be quick to forget how capable you were in a crisis situation,” said Jack. “Sheriff Jessie. It kind of has a ring to it.”

  Jessie shook her head, smiling, but she still looked serious.

  “You should head home,” she said. “Or even consider sleeping here, if you’re not up to making the trip in the dark.”

  “The dark has never bothered me much,” he said. “I’ll check back in with you tomorrow.”

  He nodded to Jessie, who headed back over to Bruce, who was in the middle of tying up the looter. Jessie said something to Bruce, and though he couldn’t make out the full sentence, he was pretty sure he caught the word “deputy” and knew what she’d asked him.

  CHAPTER 32

  Mira was waiting for him outside the building, and she flashed a wicked smile at him as he approached her.

  “Judging from the intensity of the stars overhead, is it safe for me to assume that you handled the water nymph?” she asked.

  Jack nodded. “She’s in my pocket right now. It doesn’t seem like she can do much harm through the glass of the bottle.”

  Mira quirked an eyebrow at him and gave the bulge in his pocket where the bottle was an appreciative glance.

  “Impressive,” she said. “I must say, you’ve outdone yourself these past few days, my sweet Jack.”

  She looped her arm through his, and the two of them walked side by side toward the edge of town. Jack agreed with her, but only to a certain extent.

  “I still haven’t dealt with Mezolak yet,” he said.

  Even just saying the demon’s name sent a cold, nauseous chill through him. There was so much left for him to unpack there. The fact that his father was technically still alive, albeit as a demon’s host. The way he and his mother had died. The manner through which he’d been brought back. Zack Koffman and his long list of grisly crimes.

  “Is there truly anything to deal with, concerning Mezolak?” asked Mira. “He hasn’t threatened the town of which you’ve deemed yourself to be the protector.”

  “I haven’t deemed myself the protector of Lesser Town,” said Jack. “It just kind of happened. And just because Mezolak hasn’t done anything yet doesn’t mean he won’t in the future.”

  “But why allow yourself to stress over a circumstance that might not come to pass?” asked Mira. “If he does make a move, against the town or against you, you can react to it when it happens.”

  Jack scowled a little at that. As much as it made sense to him, he still wanted to go on the offensive. He wondered if it was because a small part of him still held out hope that it might be possible to save his father from the demon’s grasp.

  But even if it was possible, what then? Jack had been living under the assumption of his father being dead for the past twelve years. He’d also seen the memory that Mezolak had shown him, along with how volatile his parents’ relationship had been and how hotheaded and foolish his father had been. James Farmoore had made his own, tragic choices, and as cold as it felt for Jack to admit, he wasn’t sure that it was his place to save him from them.

  “You’re probably right,” he said, with a sigh. “It’s actually… somewhat of a relief to look at it like that. It frees me up to get some rest.”

  “Perhaps,” said Mira. “Though the town will surely need more of your help in the coming days and weeks.”

  “When did you become so in touch with the needs of this… what was it you called it again? This cozy little town?”

  “It’s in my nature, if you can believe it,” said Mira. “I am a deeply caring individual.�
��

  Jack rolled his eyes. “Right. You’re a former vampire and tender, charitable soul.”

  Mira let out a mocking, offended gasp and flicked a finger against his earlobe. They were heading up the slope, and seeing the mansion in the distance reminded him of all the wonderful things it held within. Food. Wine. Hot showers.

  Jack was feeling his exhaustion in full force when he made it past the gate and through the front door. His kicked his shoes off, followed immediately by the soggy, sandy socks he’d also been enduring.

  After that, he brought the water nymph down into the workshop, placing the bottle that held her inside one of the airtight containers Katie used to store alchemy ingredients in. He figured that storm-conjuring, people-drowning, supernatural creatures were one of those things that deserved to be double-wrapped.

  Mira had already turned in to her room when Jack came back upstairs. He wanted to take a shower, but he figured that it would be best to check in on Ryoko, first. He opened the door without knocking, being as quiet as he could. She was in bed, but that wasn’t unusual, for once, given the lateness of the hour.

  Jack smiled at her as he gently sat down on the edge of her mattress. He let his fingers brush back a few strands of her straight black hair.

  Her forehead felt cold.

  He frowned slightly and pressed his entire hand against it. There was no warmth there whatsoever.

  “Ryoko?”

  Jack gently shook her shoulder, and her body moved strangely. Stiffly, without the natural pushback from active muscles. He flipped over onto her back and felt his heart shatter into a million little pieces.

  “No!” He shook her roughly. She didn’t wake up. “Oh no… No, no, no!”

  Three empty pill bottles lay on top of her nightstand, next to a half-filled tea cup. He’d missed those when he’d first came in. She’d thrown up at some point, and a thin layer of dried vomit coated her lips and chin.

  Jack felt the room spinning around him. He shook her again, and again, and again. He pressed his hands down hard on her chest, feeling for a heartbeat that wasn’t there.

  “Mira!” he screamed. “Call an ambulance! Mira!”

  He could barely hear the words he was screaming. They were coming out all jumbled, and the ringing in his ears drowned them out.

  “Wake up!” He shook Ryoko again. “Wake up! Please, Ryoko, wake up.”

  He pulled her into a tight, pointless hug.

  “Let me wake up,” he muttered. “This is a nightmare.”

  He pulled back, looking at her again, as though this time it might change something. Her face was pale, purpled, and ugly. Like a Halloween mask of the real Ryoko’s face.

  “Ryoko…” Jack said. “Please. You didn’t do this. You couldn’t have done this.”

  “Jack!” shouted Mira. “What’s going on?”

  She took one step into Ryoko’s room and let out a gasp. Jack could hear her running down the hall, but only faintly. He was somewhere else, somewhere far away from the moment. He couldn’t handle being there. It was just too much.

  “The phone lines are still down!” shouted Mira. “Damn it!”

  How had he missed the signs?

  From the very beginning, Ryoko had seemed so frail, as though she was suffering her own quiet, personal torment. She’d struggled to open up to him. She’d struggled to express herself, even after they’d become intimate.

  I never wanted to be such a bother, sir.

  “Ryoko!” he shouted. “Why? Why didn’t you say anything?”

  She had said something. She’d said everything, and he’d just been too distracted to hear her properly.

  He hugged her again, heedless of the hot tears streaming down his face. He stood up from the bed, staggering on his feet as a nauseating rush of vertigo hit him all at once.

  “Goddammit!”

  Jack let out an ugly, choked scream as he slammed his fist into the mirror above Ryoko’s bureau. He flipped the bed table with the pill bottles on it over. He punched the wall with all the strength his enhanced form had available, leaving a hole the size of a beach ball in the wake of his fist.

  It was his fault. He’d killed her.

  The words reverberated in his head, and he wouldn’t have bothered trying to deny them even if he’d thought for a second that they weren’t true. He’d fed off Ryoko and thrown her into a state of emotional turbulence, and then he’d stopped with such abruptness that it had been like pushing her off a cliff.

  “Ryoko.” Jack fell to his knees and let out a sob that took a piece of his soul with it. He slammed his fist into the floor as hard as he could, but this time, his knuckles took the damage. They were already bloody from the mirror. It wasn’t enough.

  “Jack…” Mira stood just outside the door, as though she was afraid of what he might do to her or himself if she came closer. “It’s not your fault.”

  “Shut up,” he said. His voice was laced with cold, uncontrollable anger. “Shut the fuck up.”

  “She was troubled,” said Mira. “You couldn’t have known how she would react. You did everything you could to protect her, even using the potion to keep her from becoming enthralled.”

  “She was…” Jack shook his head, feeling a hard lump form in his throat. “She told me she was depressed. And I just pushed it into the background. Like a problem I could just write off.”

  You don’t have to worry about me.

  Jack looked back over at her body. He’d shifted her around when he’d tried to revive her, but with the sheets up to her waist, she almost looked as though she might still just be asleep. He felt the pain stab into his heart with twice the intensity as he realized that the impulse was there to stay.

  He’d keep hoping for her to be alive again each morning. He’d see her in his dreams and wake up and experience the loss all over again. He’d never be able to get over the reality of the situation.

  She was dead, and he was the one who’d killed her.

  CHAPTER 33

  “Jack?” called Mira. “Jack! Where are you going?”

  His legs carried him through the mansion on autopilot, and he could barely see what was in front of him, let alone hear. The ringing still drowned out all other noise.

  Ryoko was dead. He’d killed her. Ryoko was dead. She’d killed herself, because of him. Ryoko was dead, and he could have stopped it from happening.

  Hanging wouldn’t work. Jack doubted that a rope would do much around his neck, with his body strengthened as it was. Pills, likewise, were out of the question. They’d worked for Ryoko, but he couldn’t think of anything poisonous enough to counter the speed of his vampiric regeneration.

  Mira did have a pistol, though he wasn’t sure where she kept it. He was even less sure if a single bullet, even one carefully placed, would be enough to do the job. Even a bolt from Katie’s old crossbow would be a gambit.

  Jack summoned his Spectral Sword as he entered the cellar. He had just enough awareness of what he was doing to close the door and lock it. Mira would, of course, try to stop him, if she figured out what he had planned in time.

  He felt numb, so adrift in the fugue of his emotions that they stopped having any real meaning. He wasn’t doing it to stop the pain or as a way of ridding himself of his guilt. He was doing it because he couldn’t see a way forward. There was no way for him to go on living in a world in which Ryoko was dead because of him.

  “No,” he muttered. “This is the only way...”

  He’d been so fucking naïve. From the very beginning, on that fateful night when Mira had given him the Embrace, he’d never had a real understanding of what he was. Of how his actions had consequences in the moment but also in the long term. Each choice he made, slowly building and accumulating, dragging down the people he loved most.

  No more. Jack turned his dark, ethereal sword around in his hand. It was sharp enough to do the job. Of that, he had no doubt. If he aimed for his heart and braced the back of it against the wall, he could fall forward on
to his own sword. Even a vampire would die in short order without a beating heart. It would only hurt for a second.

  “Jack!” screamed Mira. She banged on the door hard, and then, from the sound of it, threw her shoulder into its frame. “No! Please, Jack! Don’t do this!”

  What choice did he have? He could still see Ryoko’s face, contorted in that horrible, disgusting state. There was nothing peaceful about death, even one like hers, curled up in bed as though she’d just fallen asleep.

  The world would be a better place without him in it. His only regret was not having found the fortitude to kill himself earlier. Imagining where Ryoko would be if he’d never come into her life made the lump in his throat ache and swell to the point of affecting his breathing.

  Jack pressed the hilt of his Spectral Sword against the stone wall of the mansion’s cellar, letting it catch in the crack formed by the cement. A quick fall forward, a clean stab, and a lot of blood. It was no different from the consideration he’d given the numerous other people he’d killed. Except this time, there wasn’t so much as a flicker of doubt over whether the person on the receiving end of his blade deserved it.

  Soft weeping echoed from up the stairs and behind the cellar door. Jack closed his eyes, drowning it out. Mira would get over it. She’d understand, eventually. It was for the best, and it was long overdue.

  Had Ryoko thought similar things in her last moments?

  But then again, Ryoko hadn’t been a monster. How was it fair for her to be dead, while Jack, and even Mira, who still walked in the shadow of her violent past, went on living? Hell, even the water nymph had been spared from the kiss of death after drowning dozens of innocents and destroying an entire town.

  Jack blinked, letting his sword drop out of position as a sudden realization hit him like a slap in the face. He let the weapon dematerialize and walked back up the stairs on shaky legs. Mira pulled him into a hug that was an equal mixture of anger and relief as soon as she saw him.