“So am I,” she said. “Toby, I’m scared.” She hugged him and he slipped his arms around her, the action as automatic as breathing to him.
“I’m not,” he said.
“Do you ever get scared?” she asked.
“Rarely,” he said, not without wonder. He got angry, stressed, upset, sad; all of those things, but he had rarely felt fear. When he lost Hylas was the most afraid Tobias had ever been.
“Why?” she asked.
“I don’t know,” he said. But he did know, too, he had always known: Tobias rarely got scared because he felt there was not much of anything for him to fear. He rubbed his throbbing eyes again and said, “We should get out of the rain.”
“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Dawn Marie’s voice was hushed, like she didn’t want to say it at all.
“Allergies maybe,” he said.
“That wasn’t allergies,” she said.
“You said it was a trick of the light.”
“I saw myself in your eyes,” Dawn Marie said. “Myself and Nick and the sky and I swear I saw stars in there, too. It was like a reflection of the entire universe there for a second.”
“Impossible,” Tobias said.
“I’m starting to wonder,” she said. “C’mon, you’re right, let’s go in. Are you in pain?”
“An abundance of it,” he said.
“I’ll give you a pill,” she said.
“Thank you dearly,” Tobias said.
“Toby?” she asked as they walked back inside and stood dripping in the entryway.
“Hmm?”
“If you find the person doing this shit to you… Are you really going to kill them?”
He looked at her in the gloom, standing there with wide eyes, water streaming across her skin, her pale hair matted and dark.
“They will not even be able to identify their remains,” Tobias said with a smile.
He instantly regretted his words; they didn’t even sound like something he would say, but that wasn’t why. It was because for the first time in all the years he had known her, Dawn Marie seemed afraid of him.
She still hugged him again, squeezing tight as she said, “Okay, Toby. Okay. I’m with you.”
How he loved her for that, too, but as he hugged her back and closed his eyes, he saw the filthy face of a beautiful boy that had once danced with him while bombs fell. He loved that boy, too, now, with a sudden, sick, confusing ferocity that made him dizzy. All of those faces he had seen—all of those hallucinations, both familiar and alien—haunted him and he tried to shove them away again.
He held Dawn Marie for a moment longer then took them across the black and white tile of the entryway in a slow waltz that pulled a startled laugh from her throat as she stumbled to keep up with the change in pace. Tobias smiled down at her, gentler now, as he dipped her low. His smile faltered as the straining twitch in his back rose up again, a mad flutter beneath his skin. But Dawn Marie was laughing and they were dancing and there were no bombs falling here, so he moved them faster, deeper into the house, toward dry clothes and towels and hopefully some shreds of the sanity that was being stolen from him.
24
The sound of the enraged scream inside Jeremy’s head was like a sonic boom. The walls of his skull quivered at the force of it, the shock wave sliding over his brain with icy pain that made him scream in return as he rolled onto his side, writhing, hands clamped over his bleeding ears. Tears of blood rolled down his face in sticky rivulets and still Jeremy wailed in agony. He felt something soft inside of his throat pop with wet ricochets of sound and a gout of blood rushed up his esophagus to coat his teeth even as he sprayed bloody mist from between his lips. It was like being torn apart from the inside out and it hurt so good.
He had gone into the barn with no real idea of what he was going to do, but in the end he sat on Dr. Helen’s grave and tuned out the mournful sobbing of her spirit as he closed his eyes. Left unchecked, the memories came all at once, a flooding river of lives cutting through the center of him. In that river, he found a focus: Thanatos and with the shadow wraiths singing a blasphemous hymn, Jeremy poured himself into the river as well. He swam around the central image of Thanatos, his talisman standing tall amid the deluge; unswayed and eternal. He meditated on it and all of his former selves joined in. Together, they focused on Thanatos and called to him in their weeping, screaming voices. It was not the first time it had happened, but things had never before coalesced so well for Jeremy (for them) and after a while, he began to drift.
It was like being lost in thick fog, damp and claustrophobic, but he pushed through and then there was light; his very own Genesis. It was the stormy light of an overcast afternoon and he had been looking at pecan trees and flowers. Then he’d been looking at Dawn Marie Schuler and even distant from his own body, Jeremy felt his heart climb into his throat.
Then blackness. Then they were dancing through the rubble of the London Blitz back when Jeremy’s name was Niall Merring. In that he found peace for a split second because he had looked at Thanatos again and knew he was looking back. Then the sky and Dawn Marie again and Jeremy had tugged and pulled and redoubled his efforts; yanking with all his might. Thanatos bellowed, the sound inside his head the wordless roar of a hurricane wind and it pummeled him from the inside out to leave him where he currently was: screaming in the high grass of his barn, unable to think beyond the glorious agony of it all.
Somewhere in the middle of his horrible pain, Jeremy’s mind decided that enough was enough and he blacked out. When he woke again, he was nothing but a network of screaming nerves; everything throbbed and his face was a mask of blood. It tickled him where it still oozed from his ears down into the hair behind them. Through blurry eyes, Jeremy saw that skylight of the barn was still being pounded with rain. At first he heard nothing, but after a moment the noise of it came to him as though muffled through a thick wall. He tried to stand and fell down immediately; he was shaking all over, his fingers jittering, his shoulders twitching. His legs felt full of pins and needles, he was dizzy and nauseous from it.
The wraiths gathered around him and murmured things he could not hear as they pulled him back down into the grass. Jeremy lay there blinking, mind thunking along like a clumsy acrobat. His tongue was stuck to the roof of his mouth as he smiled, ghoulish and bloodstained. The grass twisted itself over his body, wrapping him tightly in its embrace that smelled of greenness and old pennies. He was damaged, perhaps so badly that the grass and wraiths could not fix him for good this time because this time, Thanatos had nearly killed him. His stomach ached, his ribs ached, his head felt like it was going to explode, even some of his teeth felt loose; but it was the glass-sharp pain in his ears cutting-grinding away at him that was the worst. His body was the wreckage left behind from the bomb that had gone off inside of him, the furious bellow of a displeased and wrathful god.
To Jeremy, it was beautiful because he had seen. Not Thanatos, but enough because he had seen Dawn Marie, that bitch. Thanatos was on this plane and what was more, he was in Sparrow Falls and she knew it. She was hiding him, keeping him, maybe holding him prisoner. The wraiths climbed inside of him, filled him to the brim with everything they had as the grass began to send its roots into his veins to feed him the strength they held.
He lost consciousness again and when he came to, he was still in pain, his hands still shook, his muscles unsteady and hard to use. It was easier to move though and he thought he could hear a little better, though when he tried to stand he fell down again. He would come back to the barn in a couple of days for another treatment after the grass and wraiths had rested. As Jeremy crawled toward the doors of the barn, he didn’t know if even then it would be enough. He felt undone in some fundamental way, like something inside of him was so physically broken that nothing except Thanatos could ever make it right again.
Jeremy dragged himself up using the crossed boards of the barn doors to hold onto, the wraiths lifting beneath his arms to aid him. He had to be
better than he currently was or he could not do what came next. If he attempted it in his current state then he would die trying, which was the one thing he must avoid or his dream would die with him. His dream of a life—a full life—with Thanatos beside him for the duration.
“I will, I will,” Jeremy said under his breath, unable to hear it, but able to feel the pain it caused in his battered throat. He shoved the barn doors open at last and fell out into the cold downpour. The jar of the fall made him throb all over and he cried out weakly as he rose to his feet and tottered first to one side then the other and back upright.
When he pulled the barn doors shut with a bang, he fell down again and it made him sob weakly. He had never felt so fragile, so small. So humbled. What he was playing with was a dangerous and old kind of magic. Magic that was not really magic at all, but really just pure power. It was lethal and it was beautiful and it was one of the many reasons Jeremy loved Thanatos: the unstoppable power of a creature such as he was. The Greeks and Romans and most other religions and pantheons had gone to great lengths to downplay Thanatos (or just Death, which was his one true name). They told few stories about him and built no temples; they made him a small god in the periphery of everything. It was a testament to the true power of Thanatos—the unending, unrelenting fear he brought and the refusal of man to acknowledge him as anything more than insignificant. They poured their devotion—attention—into fleeting things such as love and even war while ignoring what loomed right over their heads, watching everything and waiting for the day their souls would belong to him.
Jeremy made it most of the way to the house on his feet when about five feet from the door, he fell again and could not summon the strength to rise. So, he crawled, using the doorknob to drag himself up enough to open the door. He hit his head when the latch giving made him tumble forward, leaving him sprawled on the floor of the short back hallway. The utility room was to his left, a small half-bath was a few feet up and on his right. The kitchen was dead ahead and it stretched out before him in what looked like mile after mile of shining white ice that was really tile.
Barghest’s toenails clicked on it, Jeremy knew the sound though it, too, was mostly lost to him. When he began to bark it was much easier to hear, the sound usually deafening and huge coming from the big black dog’s throat. He trotted over to Jeremy, tail wagging anxiously as he sniffed and licked him. He pawed his shoulder lightly and whined; Jeremy felt the sound in the tips of his fingers when he reached up to touch the dog. He caught hold of Barghest’s collar and the dog didn’t need to be told; he began to drag Jeremy through the house, barking.
Mooncricket appeared in the doorway between the kitchen and living room and one look at Jeremy had him rushing to him. “Jeremy, oh fuck, what happened?” Mooncricket asked as he knelt on the tile and took Jeremy’s face in his hands. He could hear him, though it was like being shouted at from the end of a long, long tunnel. His anxious hands covered Jeremy’s ears though and what he said next was lost.
“Huh?” Jeremy asked. It was hard to talk; he was so thirsty and tired, he thought he could easily sleep for a hundred years or more.
“I asked you if you fell down.” Mooncricket’s eyes were wide and alarmed as he took his hands from Jeremy’s head and looked at the bloody smears on his palms. “Oh, screw this, dude. I’m calling nine-one-one.”
Jeremy snatched his wrist in his hand with surprising speed and squeezed. “Do not call the police here, Mooncricket.”
“But, Jeremy, like, you’re all fucked up.” Mooncricket leaned down to press a quick kiss to Jeremy’s jaw and stroked his fingers through his hair. “Baby, what happened?”
Laughter welled up in Jeremy’s chest and spilled over his lips until he was shaking. Mooncricket was wall-eyed and frightened, looking like he might cry at any second. Pushing himself up to a half sitting position, Jeremy fisted his hands in the front of Mooncricket’s shirt and pulled him close.
“He’s been here all along,” he giggled in Mooncricket’s ear. “How could I have known that? But I know now and… and he’s coming. Soon. He’ll be here soon.”
“Who’s coming, Jeremy?” Mooncricket asked.
“Thanatos,” Jeremy hissed as he turned his face into the side of Mooncricket’s neck and held him close.
Mooncricket pulled away to stare at Jeremy, alarmed and confused. “Who’s Thanatos?”
“Thanatos is everything,” Jeremy said as he pulled Mooncricket back down to kiss him.
Mooncricket made a distressed sound in the back of his throat, but he kissed Jeremy back. When they broke apart, Mooncricket wiped at the blood on his lips, smearing it around.
“Jeremy, you’re scaring me,” Mooncricket said. He looked down at his lap, cutting his eyes to the side to glance at Jeremy once before looking away again.
Jeremy dragged himself over so his head was laying in Mooncricket’s lap.
“Don’t be afraid,” he said. “Everything’s going to be all right now. Don’t you see?”
“No, I don’t see,” Mooncricket said. He crossed his arms over his chest and scratched at his shoulders. “All I see is you all bloody and talking crazy shit, okay? I don’t know who Thanatos is or why you’re so hung up on him, but you’re acting weird and you look so bad, Jeremy. Like you’re sick and got beat up on top of it and… and… You are really, really freaking me the hell out right now.”
It was obvious how frightened Mooncricket was when Jeremy’s common sense reasserted itself enough that he actually looked and he had finally started to cry a bit. Smooth little tears ran down his cheeks and left his eyes bloodshot, turning the irises almost neon bright with the contrast. He wiped under his nose and screwed his face up a little as he pulled the sleeves of his shirt over his hands and scrubbed the tears away. He’d missed one that dangled on his jaw line and it fell as Jeremy looked on. It landed near the corner of his mouth and he darted his tongue out to lick it away.
“I don’t mean to scare you,” Jeremy said as he reached up to cup Mooncricket’s cheek. “This is important though, all right?”
“I don’t care!” Mooncricket rarely ever raised his voice and when he did, it startled Jeremy, though it was muted somewhat thanks to his damaged eardrums. “I don’t know what you’re doing or what kind of people you’re fucking around with or any of it, Jeremy! Whatever the hell it is is fucking killing you, man and that’s what I care about. I don’t wanna… wanna… lose you, okay? So, whoever this Thanatos cat is, like, please stay away from him. I don’t want him to come ‘cause if you look like this now, what’s he gonna do to you when he actually shows up? Ah, hell, dude, I don’t even know what we’re talking about except ain’t none of it good. I do know that. Look at yourself, Jeremy. You’re all bloody and you’ve got bruises all over and mud and scrapes and yeah. Somebody kicked the shit outta you and I don’t want to see what the big guy will do. Nothing—” Mooncricket stopped and blinked then his eyes got huge. “Shit! Fuck! Dude, is this Thanatos guy your dealer or something? You owe money to these guys? What the—”
Jeremy let him talk right up until he’d heard enough, then he put his hand over Mooncricket’s mouth to silence him. “Shut up,” he said. Tiredness was creeping back in and he wanted to reassure Mooncricket and make him feel better, he really did, but he was wrung out. “It’s not about drugs. I don’t owe anybody money. It’s nothing like that.”
“Then who the fuck is Thanatos and why are people beating you up?” Mooncricket asked.
“Thanatos isn’t a person,” Jeremy said. He closed his eyes. He really could use another nap. Maybe a coma. Those had always seemed restful.
“Huh?”
Jeremy didn’t say anything, just lay there with his head cradled in Mooncricket’s lap. He felt his hand on his face after a moment, fingers brushing back his wet hair from his filthy skin.
“Jeremy?” There was nervous hesitation in his voice that reminded Jeremy he had done exactly nothing to allay Mooncricket’s fears. “Jeremy, are you awake?
Fuck, man, c’mon.” He shook Jeremy lightly.
“I’m awake,” he said. He couldn’t really even hear himself speak and he realized then that Mooncricket had to be talking pretty loudly for him to be catching anything he said at all. He wondered what he might have missed before Mooncricket raised his voice.
“Let me help you to bed at least, all right? Don’t pass out on the floor,” Mooncricket said. “I’ll lay with you and we can crash for a little while then maybe we can take a shower or something.”
“I need a shot,” Jeremy said. “Can you fix me a shot?”
“Yeah, baby, sure,” Mooncricket said.
“Then help me up,” Jeremy said.
With Mooncricket on one side and Barghest walking close to the other, they made their way down the hall. Mooncricket got Jeremy into bed and covered him because he had started shivering, a combination of exhaustion, pain and cold brought on by the air conditioning against his wet skin. While he waited for Mooncricket to fix his shot, Jeremy drifted along the borderline between consciousness and sleep, think-dreaming of Thanatos. Of dancing with him during The Blitz, of kissing him while standing waist-deep in a river. The feel of his marble-white hands skipping over the ridges of his ribs, the fullness of Thanatos inside of him, a sensation that went beyond the mere physical.
He was dimly aware of Mooncricket tying the tourniquet around his arm, but it was the prick of the needle as it entered his vein that really dragged Jeremy back to the present. The heroin was warm and it coursed through his body, lighting it up and calming him down. He moaned and said, “Yes, that’s it.”
“It’s good right?” Mooncricket said. He brushed a kiss over Jeremy’s lips. “Heroin makes everything okay.”
“Mhmm,” Jeremy said as he began to float, swaddled in silver-lined bliss.
A few moments later, Mooncricket sprawled out beside him, close enough Jeremy could feel his heavy, happy sigh and the vibration of his low groan. He had fixed himself up, too and that was fine, that was spectacular.
Falls the Shadow (Sparrow Falls Book 2) Page 34