by David Wright
“Whoa!” Abigail breathed, lost inside the beauty of a winged horse, so rich with details it couldn’t be fake.
Judith closed her hands around the image, and Abigail watched as it faded into ashen wisps of nothing.
“What was that?” she asked, mesmerized.
“That is the world I’m from,” Judith said. “Home to our kind, the Valkoer.”
Valkoer? That’s what we’re called?
“It’s so beautiful,” Abigail whispered, wondering if that was where John was from, too. And the world his brother, Caleb, had gone off to. It had to be. John and Larry didn’t speak much of the world in front of her, or Caleb. She’d only picked up on bits and pieces. But they had never described it so beautifully, or mentioned something so mythic as winged horses.
“Yes,” Judith said. “Those are my final memories of home. I’ve not been back in thousands of years.”
“Thousands?” Abigail said, shocked. “How old are you?”
“I stopped counting long ago,” Judith smiled. “How old are you?”
“I’m almost 13. Well, I stopped growing when I was 11. So, I guess eleven.”
“Do you like being 11?” Judith asked.
Abigail looked at Talani who smiled sweetly, then back to Judith. “Not really. Everyone treats me like a kid.”
“Yeah, I imagine that’s rough,” Judith said. “Given a choice, what age would you choose to be?”
“I don’t know,” Abigail shrugged. Memories from Katya flashed through her mind — the girl’s twenty-first birthday in particular. A large party with many friends, a cute boyfriend who wore his hair long. He liked to laugh and loved her a lot. The party had been one of the most fun nights of Katya’s life, and memory said she thought of it almost every day.
“I think I’d like to be maybe 20. Or 21?”
Judith smiled, “Ah, yes, those are good years.”
Abigail turned to Talani. “How old would you choose?”
“I like being this age,” she said. “I’m young enough that people are still nice to me, and it’s easy to take advantage of nasty old men.” Talani laughed.
Abigail joined her, though she didn’t think the comment was that funny.
Judith asked, “Tell me, Abigail, what would you do if I said you don’t have to be 11 forever?”
“What do you mean?”
“What if I said you can choose your age?”
“I can?” Abigail said. “Nobody ever told me that.”
“Of course not,” Judith said. “Men who turn girls into vampires want to be needed. They don’t like when girls grow into women and find their independence. If they could have their way, they’d all keep us in boxes on shelves, serving only their purposes.”
Abigail shook her head. “No, that’s not John. He loves me. He didn’t even want to turn me. He saved me after I died.”
Judith smiled, “Well, perhaps he doesn’t know the spell.”
“The spell?” Abigail asked.
“The spell that allows us to alter our age. You can be any age you want to be, Abigail. Any age at all.”
“How?” Abigail whispered.
“I’m glad you asked,” Judith said, her smile growing wider, reminding Abigail of the Cheshire Cat from Alice in Wonderland.
* * * *
CHAPTER 5 — Hannah
Hannah waited for Greg in the small office, furnished with a chair and desk, but no phone, computer, or any other sort of communication device. She wondered what sort of work was done in such an empty office. She considered opening the desk drawer to see if there was anything inside — perhaps the office was not yet assigned, or it was an office for field agents to temporarily use — but Hannah didn’t know if there were cameras, or if she was somehow being watched. She figured she was, so Hannah fought the urge to investigate, along with the one to nod off as her head grew heavy. She wasn’t sure what time it was, but they’d been there a few hours, and it felt late at night.
Hannah was tired, hungry, and wanted to be anywhere other than the FBI building where Greg had brought her, a building which didn’t say FBI anywhere outside, but instead looked like any of the typical buildings Hannah filled with flowers each Monday for the week’s standing orders. Yet, inside everyone looked like agents, straight from a movie. Hannah was surprised to see the number of people who were working ridiculously late.
Since their arrival, Greg had come and gone, being mostly gone, off talking to his bosses or doing God only knew what, while Hannah’s patience was turning to vapor. When he finally returned, Greg wasn’t alone.
He stepped into the office behind one man and in front of another. The first man was about 10 years his senior, who he introduced as Commander Mike Mathews. The man’s jaw was chiseled like a G.I. Joe, though his body was short, and slightly soft. He looked like any number of asshole frat guys Hannah thought she remembered from college. He gave her a big fake smile as he extended his hand. “Hello,” he said. “It’s such a pleasure to meet you.”
“Likewise,” Hannah said, shaking the man’s hand. She tried not to laugh as he showed how strong his handshake was. What a tool.
The second man was older, tall, thin, and pale looking, with dark hair and darker circles blotting the skin beneath his nose. The tall man reminded Hannah of a cartoon villain, so much so that she had to suppress a smile, so as not to offend.
“Hello, ma’am,” the cartoon villain said in a German accent, making him seem even more like a cliché, nodding toward Hannah but not offering his hand for hers, as if too shy to shake it.
OK, he’s not weird at all.
“This is Mr. Skinner,” Greg said. “He would like to examine you.”
“What?” Hannah said, unable to hide her alarm. “What do you mean, examine me?”
Mathews took a step forward wearing his big fake smile. “It’s nothing like you’re thinking, Ms. Quinn. Mr. Skinner isn’t a doctor. He’s something of a specialist, here to help us find something.”
Not a doctor; oh, that’s a relief.
“I’m confused,” Hannah said. “What’s happening, Greg?”
“Just relax,” he said, his voice reassuring as he stuck her in the neck with something. Hannah could barely register what it was before she saw the needle in his hand.
“What the… ,” she couldn’t finish her sentence before falling back.
Greg caught her and set her gently back in the chair.
What the hell are you doing?
She could barely feel her body, or his touch. Hannah could only sense it as if it were happening to someone else. She felt as if she were swimming through the middle of a weird dream. She turned to Greg, their eyes meeting for a breath, but she was finding it difficult to focus. She tried to ask why but Hannah’s mouth ignored her mind.
The tall German leaned closer, placing his hands over Hannah’s chest. She tried to move, repulsed by the thought of the strange man touching her, but she couldn’t even twitch with her entire body, which was numb and unresponsive.
The man continued to hold his hands over Hannah, moving them back and forth, hovering centimeters above her body without touching her. He turned back to Mathews and pointed directly at Hannah’s chest. “It’s here. Next to her heart.”
Mathews pulled the phone from his pocket, mashed his thumb on the glass, waited a few seconds, then said, “How quickly can we get a surgeon here?”
Surgeon?
After a painfully long silence Mathews said, “Tomorrow’s too long. We’ll just cut her open.”
What? Cut me open? Why? What’s happening?!
Hannah’s heart raced; a crashing plane between her ears as her mind tried to find sense in her surroundings. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t cut through the chaos. She wished her inner whisper would chime in and offer a clue, but it was inconveniently silent, leaving her alone and afraid — again.
“What?” Greg said, clearly alarmed. “You can’t just cut her open. She’ll die.”
“Not my
concern,” Mathews said. “She has what I want, and I’m not waiting until tomorrow. Who knows how long until … ”
A high pitched buzzing sound ripped through the room, and somewhere, Hannah heard what sounded like gunfire erupting.
What’s happening?
A voice crackled through on Mathews’s phone. “Harbinger is here!”
Harbinger? Who?
Mathews pointed at the creepy German. “You, stay with her. Make sure no one comes in.” He handed the man a gun. “And make sure she doesn’t leave.”
Mathews grabbed Greg’s arm, and they raced from the room. Greg looked back at Hannah as if it was the last time he would ever see her again.
Hannah was suddenly alone with the creepy man, her heart pounding so hard she thought it might burst from her chest.
* * * *
CHAPTER 6 — John
Jacob is here.
John thought it moments before he heard the first rounds of gunfire cracking from somewhere in the building. John stared at the door, waiting for it to burst open and for Jacob, or worse, his henchmen or monsters, to come storming through to kill him once and for all.
More gunshots, followed by screaming.
John tried reaching out to feel what was happening, and see how many enemies Jacob brought with him, but too much chaos made sense of nothing. The world on the other side of the door bubbled with fear, screams, and pain — the writhing anguish of many. To dip in without losing himself in the flood would be impossible in John’s current state, drugged and weakened, his body still slowly stitching from its earlier burning at Mathews’ hands.
John wondered how well he’d be able to fight when death came to claim him. Maybe he’d get lucky, he hoped, and the first to attack through the door would be caught unprotected and unaware. Then, John might be able to feed from their souls and use the power to finally kill Jacob.
A sudden horror struck him.
Perhaps he’s not here for me. Maybe Hope is already here.
That thought sent John into action. He ran at the door and slammed his body hard against it.
“Jacob!” he screamed. “I’m here, you fucker. Come and get me!”
John closed his eyes and tried reaching his brother, finding him, somewhere on the bottom floor, fighting agents, killing them with glee.
Jacob stopped for a moment, turning his thoughts to John.
“Well, hello there, brother, fancy meeting you here.”
“I’m on the 10th floor, you fucker, come and get me,” John said, knowing his words would travel to his brother alongside his thoughts.
“Perhaps, I’ll visit you later, John. Right now, I’m here to see someone else. Perhaps you’ve heard of her. She shares her name with something of yours which will surely continue to dim by the second.”
Jacob laughed like a monster.
“You fucker,” John screamed. “Stay away from her!”
“Aw, Johnny, you amuse me so with your bravado. Ta-ta, brother. Be seeing you soon. Is there any final message you’d like me to give her?”
Jacob killed the connection before John could respond.
“Jacob!” John screamed into the silence.
John paced his cell, determined to find a way out. “Mathews!” He looked up at the camera, screaming. “Let me out! Now, goddamn it!”
“Mathews!”
The screams outside seemed almost louder than the gunshots. John closed his eyes and tapped into streaming thoughts, searching for Hope somewhere in the din.
So much death. Despair. Horror.
John’s door suddenly clicked and began to slide open.
Here comes death.
He balled his fists, waiting to spring on anyone who entered, hoping he was up to the task and wasn’t staring down a squad of armed, suited men immune to his touch.
John’s heart felt as if it dropped as Skinner stepped into the room, carrying an unconscious Hope in his arms.
“What did you do to her?” John said, stepping closer, cautiously, hoping she was OK. His chin quivered, thinking she’d been hurt.
“She’s not hurt,” Skinner said. “I took her away when all hell rained down on this place. I’ll help you both escape into the service elevator and then to the roof. You can jump from there, yes?”
John nodded as Skinner set Hope lengthwise on the cot.
John said, “I’ll need some more clothes so I don’t touch her.”
“Take my coat,” Skinner said, removing his suit. It was long on John, but fine for the moment.
“Thank you,” John said, slipping his arms through the sleeves. He moved closer, desperately wanting to touch Hope, to open her eyes and say “Hello.”
It had been so long since he’d seen her. And despite the fact that Adam had said he’d change her appearance, she looked the same as he remembered her, not a day older, in fact. So beautiful. So sweet. His heart melted, ached, and exploded all at once. He wanted to pause the moment so it was just he and she in the world, and the ensuing violence outside could never permeate their bubble of forever.
But the continued gunshots killed that hope immediately, sending urgency into John’s limbs.
John turned to Skinner. “Why are you helping us?”
“Because Mathews is drunk with power. Now that Jacob is here, you are the only one standing between him and the end of this world as we know it. Come, we must go. Are you strong enough to carry her?”
“Yes,” John said, unsure if he was, but knowing as he stared down at his love that he’d find a way no matter what.
**
John wasn’t sure if there was something different about Hope, or whether he was simply too weakened to properly handle her. She felt far heavier than she should have. Hope should have been a pillow in his arms, but John was limping heavily from his cell into the hallway, then every step after that as they crossed the long hallway, strides behind Skinner.
“We have to go faster,” Skinner urged, his eyes wide and panicked. “Are you sure you’re OK? I’d be happy to help you carry her.”
John could hear the kindness through Skinner’s thick accent, which surprised him considering how eager the German had seemed to help the bad guys a short while before.
“No,” John said. “I’m fine.” He took a second to readjust Hope in his arms. It was awkward since he had to keep her body up past his forearms and away from the naked flesh of his hands in case they slipped from Skinner’s long sleeves. He tightened his grip and walked faster, quickly closing the distance between them and Skinner.
“That corner,” Skinner pointed toward the end of the hallway. “The elevators wait around it.”
Great. Let’s hope I can make it that long.
John felt a flicker of swelling strength as they neared the corner, and dared to hope for recovery. His eyes were on Skinner’s back as the German neared the corner and suddenly screamed, stopping dead in his tracks.
John fell an involuntary step back, clutching Hope tighter against him, before he rounded the corner and saw the source of Skinner’s cry.
A monstrosity charged at them, a monster unlike any John had ever seen, though the déjà vu humming in his head suggested otherwise. The monster wasn’t tall, though its hulking bulk gave that impression. It was 5 feet high, thick, like a giant tree with thick dark skin to match, tiny legs, and long arms which ended in sharp, black pincers that looked like they could shear metal.
In the center of its mass were what appeared to be dozens of eyes, some blinking and each ringed with a wet dark circle. The eyes which were blinking opened to a softly glowing amber. Beneath the eyes, a wide open maw filled with hundreds of teeth which jutted in every direction like porcupine quills.
The monster paused its charge and seemed to study them, its hesitance saving their lives. John was weak, Hope still in his arms, and Skinner was frozen, staring at the creature as if hypnotized.
John pulled strength from somewhere and set Hope down against the wall and ran toward the monster and Skinner, not
knowing what the hell he’d do until he got there.
Skinner drew his gun but the beast batted it from his fist with a blur, which seemed fast for the creature’s mass.
The monster leapt toward Skinner, but John was faster, throwing himself between Skinner and the creature. John thrust his hand up at the creature’s face, expecting to pull the soul from inside it.
Nothing happened.
John felt the creature’s soul calling to him, which meant it should have been his for the taking, but its bark-like body was like a protective armor. Momentarily dazed, John stood rooted to his feet with a weakness in his body wanting to force him to the floor.
It did, and the monster fell on top of him. Its dozen or so eyes were all open, staring at John as it opened its maw and readied to feast.
Six deafening shots rang through the hallway as the monster’s body grew suddenly still and heavier on John’s.
“Thanks,” John said, looking up at Skinner as he ran to them and pulled the monster off of John, and rolled it aside, black ooze pouring from its wounds.
Skinner nodded, reloading his clip. He pointed to the elevators. “Let’s go.”
John scooped Hope up from the wall and into his arms. Just as they were within 20 feet of the elevator, the wall exploded beside them, another of the tree-like creatures barreling into the hallway. This one seemed the same size, but that was an illusion given that it was hunched over.
It then stood, and revealed itself to be at least 7 feet tall and almost twice as wide as its dead brother.
Shit.
Skinner fired two shots, then three before the creature swung at him, sending him flying back, almost hitting John. The creature shrieked, a loud, bird-like shrill which sounded almost metallic in tone.
John set Hope down on the ground, and looked up just in time to see the monster running toward him.