The Prince raised his head to the world above, to the Way of Things. “I am rekindling that magic!” he declared.
The earth rumbled in agreement. The Demon cowered and spoke to the air around it. “Fine! Fine. I will agree.” It turned to the Prince. “I’ll choke you down. A small price for the feast ahead of me. Your father’s treachery will be well enjoyed.” The Creature reared up in preparation to devour him.
“Stop!” cried Garth as he ran in front of the Prince. “Take me instead! I am also a pure soul!”
The Demon froze and growled with annoyance.
“I am purer than him,” Garth continued. “My soul has not even been tainted by death. Take mine and free this man who was robbed of his mortal life. He deserves the paradise that surely awaits him.” The Prince shook him to reconsider. Garth turned to him. “The soul inside of me is foreign. I’ve grown used to living without it.” He stepped forward and spoke to the heavens. “A trade!”
Once again, the ground shook.
“Take my body, too. Surely that will make the magic even stronger,” Garth suggested.
“Just your soul, human. You’re body is of no interest to me,” said the Demon. “Your sacrifice grants you a fate worse than death, you know. Go back to the world above. Go back without a soul.”
*
Without a mortal soul, the flesh and blood husk he’d so briefly enjoyed began to revert to the Immortal form it had grown so accustomed to: one lacking sensation, warmth, or the ability to die. Once again, Garth was set in stone.
13. Clarity
On the other side of the bridge, the night sky of the limbo-land never gave way to day. The world they existed in was not the one they’d know. It was a place in between life and death, on the doorsteps of both Heaven and Hell. A brown and purple darkness swallowed them, allowing Helena to spend as many lucid hours with her beloved as possible.
“Can you really love me through this stone?” she asked Francis.
“You found affection for me through stone and deformities. I think I can manage getting over just one,” he replied with a smile on his face as wide as the river behind them. He would have kissed her but the chilly softness of his ghost kisses would be lost on a statue like her. The smile would do.
Garth’s short time inside the earth felt like ten times its length aboveground. What could have been minutes became hours or days or weeks. Who knew? Time wasn’t something to worry about anymore. All Francis and Helena knew was that they were slowly becoming the unofficial greeters of souls after crossing the bridge. They offered congratulations and condolences, depending on the ghosts who crossed. Patient mothers, pious monks, gallant knights, jesters, and farmhands all walked the same path. Even a few heretics who’d been persecuted by their churches wandered across that ancient bridge. If those souls were cleared for entry, Helena wondered if the holy men who hanged them on the gallows would one day walk the same path.
The unmarked passing of time made waiting easier. It was a long uninterrupted dream. Their devotion to waiting for their friends never wavered. They knew they would return. They had to. Hopes bubbled with every creak of the bridge, although the faces of strangers were the only things that met them. Eventually their patience paid off and two figures emerged from the misty walkway. A tall man glided toward them with an arm extended across the back of a creature caught between man and monster. The joy they felt for their friend’s return to the world was quickly eclipsed by his return to form. But they tried not to let it show.
“Where is the Queen?” asked Helena. She ran to Garth but he stumbled away with a tragic numbness that stopped her from embracing him. Helena looked at the foreign soul that accompanied him and whispered, “Who are you?”
Francis scurried to her side. “I know you. From nights above the palace, I know you.”
The Prince nodded, sending Francis into a bow. “Your Majesty,” he grumbled.
“You don’t have to do that. You should be paying homage to Garth,” said the Prince.
Helena went to Garth and forced him to look at her. “What did you do to yourself down there?”
“It’s for the best. The Prince will explain. I’m tired. Sunrise can’t come fast enough,” he said, barely able to look into her eyes.
“There’s no sun here. We could have gone on but we waited for you. Francis could be in paradise by now but he waited for you,” said Helena with a tone that was anything but celebratory. “Garth, the man. What happened to him?”
A horn blew somewhere in the distance, kicking up a rancid breeze that rolled across the water behind them. Even in stone, Garth could smell it. The pitched sky smoldered with electricity. Like a new wound, crimson lightening bled from its clouds, followed by a band of winged chariots.
“Those won’t do,” said Garth, darkly. “They failed the last time.”
As Garth slipped into hopelessness, the Seekers arrived. In addition to the army in flight, a dust storm announced a battalion by land. A throng of lanky, ancient beings marched past them.
“That ought to do,” said Francis.
The Sacred Magic was real. The sacrifice had reawakened the protectors of the Way of Things. Pride washed away misery as Garth realized that his measly soul could ignite such power. He looked up at his Prince and saw sparkling tears well in his eyes.
The legions dispersed in search of the world’s wandering souls. Even so, Garth felt a pang of doubt. He’d seen Immortals just like that torn into pieces by a sinister ghost. But his fears dissolved after the dust settled, for the Seekers were but a precursor to the titanic warriors behind them.
A second unit, one made of giants and other behemoths, made their way above the treetops and over the river. Their strides were awkward and stiff, and rightly so. The archaic race had been sleeping under mountains and riverbeds since the Sacred Magic had last been used. Even the primeval trees they walked through weren’t old enough to remember the last awakening.
The battle panned out just beyond the bridge, in the badlands before the end of the world. War cries in lost languages and flashes of otherworldly light filled the sky during the siege of the world’s wicked souls. The river swelled to the slats of the bridge with the sudden surge of new residents.
The Prince looked out over the filthy water and knew his mission had been accomplished. He tried to find himself a grin but his face was too heavy. Why did he feel no relief? His family had turned on him and, in turn, he had turned on his family. “I did this,” he said to Garth. “It was ultimately your soul, but I was behind it. Just like my father was behind my death. I killed him and I brought him down. Yet I feel sick. Do you think that he ever had such pause?”
Garth was a foreigner to that kind of turmoil. He knew his family didn’t have the capacity for so much hate. There was no use giving advice or comfort, for he had none. He simply wrapped his large arms around the soul and hoped the gesture said something.
*
It was time to finish their journey. The tests were passed and the end was no longer a distant thought. Francis and Helena eventually learned of what occurred between Garth and the Prince deep within the Earth. They didn’t mind, though. Nothing seemed to faze them anymore.
*
“Have you been tested recently?” Asher asked.
“Have I what?” I said with a tone of misunderstanding even though I knew exactly what he meant.
“You know, for the gay plague.”
“Christ, go on and say it. We’re not talking about an evil wizard. Yes, I was tested in the spring. For HIV. I was tested for HIV. Why?”
“You’re not acting like yourself. You’re being a prude. I thought you were hiding something contagious or leaking or—”
“No! I’m just being careful. Is anything wrong with that?” I wasn’t lying. I was being careful. Not necessarily of spreading microbes or viruses, but of spreading a taste for blood and a hatred for what most find pleasurable. We were in the thick of summer, when the presence of hormones and mojitos are tripled
compared to cooler times of the year. Abstaining from the pleasures of the flesh while Bryant’s poison ran its course was the great test of my life. “I’ll just stay in tonight. We’ll do something tomorrow,” I’d say. Then when tomorrow came I’d reschedule for tomorrow. And tomorrow. And tomorrow.
No wonder he thought I was dying.
Hells Kitchen, Chelsea, Greenwich Village, the East Village, and Union Square…Actually, the entire city was to be avoided because there were no longer distinct gayborhoods. The whole place was crawling with homos in short shorts and tank tops. But certain subway lines, ones that went to undesirable areas, had significantly less temptation. I spent a lot of time on those trains. One day a beautiful boy wandered onto my car, clearly making the obligatory visit to an unfortunate friend’s new place. He held a fancy paper bag with a fancy red wine in one hand; his sub par boyfriend’s hand in the other. The boyfriend’s anti-attractiveness belittled the beautiful one with great hair, smooth skin and just enough scruff to make me swoon. I began thinking terribly bitchy thoughts like how they must have started dating in college when they were both in their prime. The boyfriend’s genes had a lousy shelf life and expired in 2007, leaving his gorgeous partner to spend many hours at the gym and hundreds of dollars on clothes and products to overcompensate for the tragedy he’d been bound to. The attractive one looked at me as if to say, “If it weren’t for this one, I’d get off at your stop.” His eyes were apologetic for not being able to advance beyond stolen glances and corner smiles. The thing next to him glared in my direction then slid closer to the Adonis. The train stopped and I exited, trying to escape simultaneous thoughts of murder and ecstasy.
The doors closed and left me on an above ground platform—a clear sign of a neighborhood’s disparity. The sun was setting but the air was still sweaty. Condemned warehouses and discount stores littered the street below me. For a second, I wished for Garth to be near, but I knew our last encounter made that impossible. It had been weeks since I’d last seen him. I had the feeling he was, for real, done with me. The reason was beyond my control, something I didn’t even realize about myself until I’d met him. The most important part of me breathed only in his presence. He was meant to be in my life. If only he’d realize that.
An actual meat market resided on the corner of that outer-borough street. My stomach grumbled so I figured that a quarter pound of ground something or other would suffice. But as I crossed the street, a fragrance so decadent and flavorful that I needed to spit to relieve the drooling, danced past my nostrils. Fried chicken finally won my appetite back from the dark side. The breaded, seasoned and most importantly, cooked artery-clogger managed to stay in my gut. My days as an infected half-breed were coming to a close so I hopped on the next train back to Manhattan and met my best boys on the Dancebelt.
The Dancebelt is a stretch of Ninth Avenue that houses an entire evening’s worth of homo bars. There isn’t necessarily dancing at every establishment but the area is adjacent to the Theatre District, creating a virtual fruit salad of chorus boys and the like. The gays make mandatory stops at each place, even if it’s just to use the bathroom. It’s all part of thoroughly scoping out prospects and maximizing potential for phone numbers, email addresses, or even real live human contact.
About an hour into our romp, I was appropriately hammered. I’d been on the bench for so long, I felt that I had nothing to lose. In the past, I’d be the guy making awkward glances at the object of my affection. My newfound freedom (along with four gin and tonics) upped my courage levels, allowing me to speak to anything with a pulse. Asher observed in horror as I shamelessly received names for later Facebook stalking.
Some little bleach blonde number even asked me into the bathroom. I had enough sense to decline: One, because it was tasteless and two, because I wasn’t one hundred percent sure that I couldn’t pass along a contagious bloodlust syndrome.
“Well-played back there,” said Bryant from behind a pillar supporting the second floor of the bar. “If you could refuse such an illicit transaction, you must be better. Welcome back to your life.”
He was as striking as the last time I’d seen him. The wall of decorative tea lights cast a romantic glow and added to his mystique.
“This is the last place I’d have expected to see you,” I said, half scared and half beside myself with aphrodesia.
“I don’t go out much here. Anymore. But I was interested in seeing how you’re faring. I spoke to Rita. She’s concerned.”
Of course he had to dampen my mood. “Why?”
“She told me that your Guardian has abandoned you. Things may seem like they’re under control but I assure you, they aren’t.” He leaned into me and locked me in a very serious gaze. “Something’s out there.”
Thanks. Exactly what I wanted to hear. Being a half-breed vampire had finally given me the ability to function without a bodyguard. I hoped I’d be able to carry some of that bravery with me, but no. The moment I’m on the precipice of life, Bryant had to come and drag me back into the insane asylum. My anxiety skyrocketed to a level that should have given me a stroke. I had to play it cool, though. I couldn’t freak out in front of the sexiest man on Earth. And by that I mean I had to be combative. “So why hasn’t Rita done anything about it, huh?” I asked with my eyebrows raised practically to my hairline.
“These things take time. Soon she will be able to lend you counsel. Until then, she just wants to know you’re safe.”
“She wants to know or you do?” I asked, sensing he found pleasure in seeing me.
He silently confirmed with a smirk.
“I’m fine,” I said. “I’ve managed to get through a few weeks without Garth. I’m not helpless.”
“I believe you. But some souls are bound to each other.”
“But Garth doesn’t have a—”
Asher crept up from behind and almost made me lose my drink in his face. “We’re going to head to the next place, okay?” he said, scoping out what he thought was a successful cruise on my part. “Bring him. He’s niiiiice.”
“Maybe. Please leave,” I said, pushing his face anywhere but there.
“I’m gonna pee. Be right back.” He ran into the bathroom, winking at me before the door swung closed.
“If I’m in danger, why can’t you protect me? I know you’re capable,” I continued, once Asher was gone.
“Because that is not the Way of Things. He is a Guardian. I am not. In the old times, I am what he’d be protecting you from,” he said, painfully. “Goodnight.” He turned to walk through the crowd.
“That’s it? All I get is a warning?” I yelled after him.
“It’s more than you got when you were murdered a few hundred years ago,” he said. I blinked and he was gone.
“He’s sexy,” Asher slurred, poking his head back around the pillar.
“Yeah, he is. We slept together a while ago.”
“I can’t believe you never told me about him. Wow. Who’d have thunk you’d be in the ranks with someone like that. He must have low self-esteem.”
“Thanks a lot.”
The hours leading up to my encounter with Bryant were blissful reminders of my life before Garth, when I was in the dark about the ancient Way, spells, lost souls and vampires. But all the cute boys and dance beats in the world couldn’t tear me away from the new world I had become entangled in. I wanted to flee to a little town and settle into a life of Wal-Mart and reality TV. Fading into obscurity would allow me to escape. Surely there were no gargoyles in the Midwest.
In the vestibule where the bouncer checks for fake ID’s, I passed my nemesis. Nick. For just an instant, we met and my soul sizzled. His brown eyes were so dark they almost appeared black. He looked straight into mine, or maybe he didn’t. There was no reflection, no glimmer of life to distinguish the exact placement of his gaze.
On the street, after my head stopped spinning and I’d freed myself from the confines of that testosterone den, Asher squawked too loudly about what had
just happened.
“Shut up, he can probably hear you,” I snapped.
“Jeremy,” said a familiar voice. I turned around and saw Robbie reaching for the door, about to go in. The words “How are you,” awkwardly stumbled from his mouth. His eyes darted looking for his date’s proximity.
“On my way out,” I said before my legs impulsively took off back towards Ninth Avenue.
Usually after several drinks at a bar full of attractive men who haven’t spoken to me, I feel needy. Add in a run in with a former obsession and my version of Voldemort, I was feeling needy and…absolutely insane. I brushed aside concerns of infections and mental health and I forced myself to go home with an understudy of a show I’d never see. Surely, that could make me feel better. I managed to recover from blood lusts and so could he. Luckily, nothing supernatural was transferred. We woke up to a sun-filled room and enjoyed a morning stroll for iced coffees before I did the walk of shame back to Spanish Harlem.
When I got home and plugged in my dead phone, I had received a “Good to see you” text from Robbie. I felt no need to respond.
*
The sunless land didn’t force the stone ones into hibernation but that didn’t mean they couldn’t get tired. After a brief rest, the Prince shook Garth. “Get up. Francis and I walked ahead. We’re very close.”
Garth opened his eyes and saw the Prince’s willowy silhouette, blackened by a vibrant light behind him. His jaw dropped as he searched for words, “The sun…how…?”
“Can you believe? It’s not the sun,” laughed Helena. “It’s something else. Something magic!” They walked through the trees, following the light. The chalky sand gave way to rich, damp soil. Soon, golden blossoms poked up their funny heads from the fertile earth. The flowers swayed in the wind like a wave of treasure as they walked into a seemingly endless valley. The moonlight couldn’t help but reflect brilliantly off their amber petals, granting the sky daylight even in the darkest hours of evening.
In Stone: A Grotesque Faerie Tale Page 19