by Hunter Blain
“Ulric,” I started, taking in a deep breath, knowing what I was about to say would do nothing to change the events that were set in motion; “you don’t have to do this.”
“Why do they always say that?” Ulric said, shaking his head as his mind played all the people he had murdered over the centuries.
“Bitch, you are not about to quote No Country for Old Men at me.” His face answered for him as confusion crossed his expression. I opened my hand and waved it in a quick circle, signaling that the fine details were irrelevant but that I would explain anyway. “It’s a movie where the bad guy asks why people say “you don’t have to do this” before he kills them.” Frustration set in that I had actually explained the quote to him. “Look, it doesn’t matter. What does matter is that if one of us dies, then Armageddon will start.”
“And why should I believe you, child? You would say anything to stop the inevitable.”
“I’m giving you a chance, Ulric,” I pleaded.
“Boy, I am two centuries older than you. I will cut you down like any mortal before me.”
“Don’t say I didn’t warn you, dick.”
Without further preamble, Ulric charged forward, manifesting a rapier, which was his weapon of choice. I willed my own personal favorite, which was a gladius as I shifted into a fencing position. With my body turned sideways, I snaked a blood-whip out of my hidden hand and let it curl on the ground at my feet. Ulric didn’t notice as his eyes stayed intent on the sword in front of him. He landed in front of me and immediately began his attack, thrusting and parrying with an expertise that was both preternatural and honed from years of practice. I stood my ground, deflecting his attacks while feigning my own. Ulric’s face melted from an evil, gleeful smile glowing with confidence to intense concentration as he realized I was just as skilled as he was.
After a three-step barrage of strikes that I easily deflected, he leaped back a few feet before trying on a familiar strategy for him, “How does it feel to know you will never get the revenge you sought on Commander Godwin? Hmm?”
I laughed and his brow furrowed deeply. I stepped forward with my hidden foot at impossible speeds and whipped my blood-rope around Ulric’s feet before manifesting long, gruesome hooks. They pierced through his flesh as I pulled, yanking him off his feet. I willed Ulric’s blood into my body as he realized what was happening with wide-eyed horror. He grew his rapier into a broadsword and began chopping at my thin rope. My laugh began to rise in pitch and crescendo until it was a maniacal bellow of hysteria— which prompted my prey to lose his well-maintained control as he threw an insane amount of energy into his blood-broadsword, intent on freeing himself from the parasite wrapped around his legs. Oh his blood was delicious and powerful— the perfect pallet cleanser after the demons vile juices.
As he began his downward swing, I pulled on the rope, hard. His swing missed as his body rocketed to where I stood. I let the blood rope melt around his legs and retreat into my hand as he tumbled towards where I stood. A strong wind tore at my coat and hair that stuck out from my beanie as my laugh filled the night. As he was about to crash into me, he adjusted his sword again and swung at my throat. The blade stopped just at my neck. Ulric’s eyes widened in horror as he saw why. I had stopped the blade by grabbing his wrist with one hand. He mouthed the word “No” before I stopped my creepy laughter and my face went stone cold. Without uttering a word, I ripped his arm off at the elbow, breaking the energy he had poured into the sword. Stunned, Ulric dropped to his knees, grabbing at the gushing nub with his remaining hand. He didn’t speak, didn’t cry. Ulric only shook in indescribable pain and loss of massive energy as his eyes managed to climb my body to lock gazes with me, struggling to form words.
“How…,” was all he could manage.
“How?” I asked with a frigid tone of finality. “What, you think you are stronger because you are two hundred years older than me?”
His mouth still agape while the nub still poured blood, I said, “You may be older than me, dick, but you slept for a combined three hundred years, didn’t you? I haven’t slept. I’ve been awake, feeding and growing stronger with each drop of blood. You may be technically older than me, but I am 100 years stronger than you, child.” I finalized my point by picking my maker up by the neck who struggled to get away. His eyes flicked frantically around him, searching for something, anything to help him— but there was no gas lamp here. After a few pathetic moments, he stopped fighting and looked me in the eyes. His gaze was calm but filled with rage, and doubt began to creep into my mind. His hand had crept behind him and pointed at the bench where my friends stood.
“Um, dude?” Joey said, while Dawson stood in stunned silence and Depweg set his jaw, preparing himself.
As I realized what was happening, I grabbed Ulric by the collar just as he shot out a bowling ball of blood that solidified and rocketed towards the bench. I saw it fly from his palm in slow motion, unable to stop it. It slammed through the middle of the thin wood and the remaining sections crumbled, just as they were made to do. All three dropped down only to hang a few inches off the ground, the nooses around their necks having tightened. Joey and Dawson’s eyes bulged from their heads and their mouths gaped like fish out of water. Depweg’s body hung loose, eyes closed tight, and face turning bright red. He wasn’t going to give Ulric the satisfaction of a dramatic death.
“Now you have a choice, kill me, or save your friends,” Ulric managed to get out. The bowling ball took a lot of his remaining energy out of him and he hung limply by where I grasped him.
“Why not both?” I asked as I pulled the silver kukri from its sheath at the small of my back. The blade hummed with power and Ulric’s eyes widened slightly, even in his exhaustion.
“You would let them die?” he panted, “You are not the man I found in that prison cell.”
I leaped to the tree in one bound, bringing Ulric with me who was rocked by the unexpected momentum. I slammed him into the tree where the silver nooses were tied too and dropped him on his ass in front of the trunk. I took the blade, remembering what Gabriel had said about consequences, and stabbed Ulric right through his stomach, severing the ropes tied around the tree. The tight ropes snapped loudly as they were cut and rushed away from the blade.
Depweg, Joey, and Dawson all dropped to the ground, gasping violently. I stood and strode over to each of them, in turn removing their noses and unbinding their hands with a blood-dagger I manifested. They were held tight with thick zip ties you see cops use on TV. I turned to see Ulric sitting at the tree, pawing at the blade with his remaining hand and unable to remove the silver from his body. He had lost too much of his precious energy and was verging on unconscious.
After I made sure my friends were alright, I embraced Depweg who squeezed me back. I tried my best not to cry from relief, but a tear or ten snuck out.
“Dude,” Depweg said, nodding his head towards where Ulric lay, bleeding out.
“He’ll live,” I responded in my Arnold voice. I wiped my face as we broke our embrace and sniffed some fleeing snot back home. Depweg just stood, looking at me. “Alright, go. Save his life like the good guy you are.”
Depweg jogged into the house, while I crouched next to where the twins were still panting on the ground.
“Thought we were goners, man,” Dawson said.
“Yeah, dude. I thought Ulric was like way stronger than you or something,” Joey said.
“Well, my naked friends, he was, at one point. But he slept for a long time. Hell, the second time he slept I thought he was dead. He probably used every bit of energy he had ever stored to keep from fully dying.”
“That’s a crazy plot twist, bro,” Dawson said as he stood up, one hand on his throat caressingly.
“Think I could sell the story to Netflix yet?”
“I’d watch it,” Joey said, rubbing his neck, which I noted had violently bruised in the few moments they were hanging.
Joey saw me looking, glanced at his brothers perf
ectly matched neck bruise, then said, “Don’t you dare make a leash joke.”
“Damn! Beat me to it.”
Depweg came out of the house carrying an armful of supplies that he dropped where Ulric lay unconscious. He wrapped a hand towel around the stump that had slowed bleeding but still leaked life fluid, securing it in place, ironically, with a zip tie. He reached for the silver blade jutting out of Ulric’s stomach, prompting me to call out, “Wait!” Depweg did as asked, watching me pick up a silver noose off the ground and jog over to the tree where I placed the rope around Ulric’s neck. I tightened it before nodding to Depweg who pulled the blade out. Ulric didn’t move, which was kind of worrisome.
“Lilith damn it,” I said as my mind began to race with solutions to the major problem in front of me. An idea struck me that was so poetic that it was delicious. I put my hand over Ulric’s slack-jawed mouth, and willed blood to flow from my palm and down his throat. I was going to give Ulric a second chance just as he had done for me all those years ago. Well, this was like his third chance or something – but who’s counting? Me.
As I fed Ulric some of my life energy, which I had stolen from him in our fight, Depweg worked to burn the wound on his stomach and back closed by lighting another dishtowel, which he held with a pair of tongs. Ulric’s face barely contorted in response, signaling that I had provided enough blood to keep him from dying. I willed my palm closed and held the rope close to the knot, just in case. Depweg handed the blade back to me and I cut several feet of the rope off before sliding it in its sheath at the small of my back; but not before wiping it on Ulric’s clothes first to clean the blood off.
Ulric’s eyes fluttered and a moan escaped his lips.
“Stand back,” I told Depweg. “Take the twins and go see if there’s anything of value in the home, like clothes, and then burn it down. I’ll deal with him.”
“You mean rob him?” Depweg asked, testing my comment to see where I stood on the moral ground.
“See if you can find any pertinent information, like who he was working with. He got this house, which is not supposed to be here by the way, and had a small task force of hired goons, including fucking demons, man. Look for anything that shows where the money came from to pay for the muscle, and then burn it down.”
“What do you mean it isn’t supposed to be here?”
“It has a ward on it that prevents mortals from finding or remembering it. Bad guys use it for a hideout,” I explained.
“Got ya. Guess I should burn it down then.”
“Say, that’s a damn good idea. Do that. I’m going to take this sack of shit to a special place at Papa T’s. You guys good here?”
Depweg and I looked over at Joey and Dawson who were piling electronics, cash, and weapons on the ground just outside the front door.
“If this is a supernatural bad guy hang out, then yeah, we’re good,” Depweg said.
“Check the garage for a ride before burning the place down,” I called as Depweg walked towards the house to find any information he could.
As if on cue, Father Thomes pulled up in his hearse and I walked over to it, dragging Ulric behind me who clutched at the noose as it tightened. “What’s wrong, princess? Don’t like that?”
I set Ulric in the passenger’s seat and then climbed in behind him, keeping the noose tight around his neck to discourage any violent outbursts. He didn’t need to breathe anyway.
“You did well, John,” Father Thomes Philseep said, pride brimming in his voice. “I had prayed you would be strong enough to win the battle.”
“Turns out, I’m way fucking stronger than this piece of shit,” I said, tugging lightly at the rope which prompted a moan from Ulric.
“I wasn’t referring to him,” Father Thomes said as he looked meaningfully at me through the rearview mirror while putting the hearse into drive.
“Oh,” I said, feeling conflicted at everyone’s faith in me to control my emotions. I was happy that I had (barely) done the right thing and rewarded the faith my friends had in me; but it was still sobering to know how they really felt about me.
We rode in silence back to the church as my mind replayed all the events and coincidences of the evening. Richard the treant showing up where and when he did, followed by the angel Gabriel, who convinced me to imbibe the faerie-juana. I was more anxious and fearful than I had thought, probably because my pride blinded me from reality. Richard and Gabe had allowed me to relax, control my emotions, and realize the truth— that I was the stronger person; not only physically but mentally as well. I beat both my enemies in one fell swoop— Ulric, and my own inner demons. Oh yeah and stopped the end of the world.
I dragged Ulric to his new home in the catacomb dungeon below ground. Father Thomes wasn’t kidding; he had made vast improvements after my escape. There was no bed, only a simple down mattress and pillow. The door was no longer hinged. Instead it was a sliding door similar to a jail cell, but with a solid iron door. There was a small hole with a sturdy cover where items could be placed inside without having to open the door. There was also a bar that could fall in place that braced the edge of the door once it was closed, providing further sturdiness and guaranteeing that no one could possibly get out.
As we placed Ulric on the mattress and removed the noose from around his neck, he opened his eyes and looked around, frantically.
“Where am I?” He cried out weakly as the door started to slide shut. Before it closed, I flipped him off and smiled. His eyes blazed with fury and confusion. The iron shut with a thud that reverberated the stone, sending dust tumbling down from lamps that littered the catacombs. I noticed there was a red button with a clear plastic cover on it. So, of course, I lifted the plastic and put my finger on the button while asking, “What’s this do?”
“Please do not press that button,” Father Thomes calmly but sternly asked. “It releases iron dust into the ventilation of the cell. Enough to turn the occupant to ash, like pouring water on sugar.”
“Neat,” I said in awe before realizing that the room had been made for, and then modified, for me. “Oh, shit.” I looked at Father Thomes with a mixture of emotions.
“Are you really that surprised, John?”
“I guess not. You gotta do what you gotta do. But damn!”
“Thank you for understanding. Now then, leave Ulric in my care and try not to get yourself killed.”
Without thinking, I embraced my friend who was trying his best to save my black stained soul. He stiffened in surprise as I had never hugged him before, and then relaxed while putting his arms around me.
“I’m proud of you,” Father Thomes said to me. It meant so much coming from him.
“You know, I’m kinda proud of me too,” I said as we separated.
“Go. Be with your friend you risked everything to save,” He said with a smile.
I took his hint and headed home, stopping to have a drink at Valenta’s first. I wanted to let him know everything had turned out okie dokie. As I entered through the front, Valenta nodded as I made my way to the bar and sat on one of his custom-made stools. His place was empty. I could only assume supes were still hiding.
“Give me the usual, please sir.”
“Glad yer still with us, boy,” Valenta said as he poured my special mixture of enchanted jack and blood. “Thanks for not doen nothen stupid.”
“I hope all of you know how hard it was to not kill him.”
“I hope ya’know how grateful we are that ya didn’t,” he said as he slid a second drink over. It was a subtle show of gratitude that meant mountains coming from Valenta.
Holding up the glass, I said, “Skool,” before downing the first and starting on the second after the burn dissipated, sipping it to enjoy the significance of these drinks. The world had not ended and I was growing, which fucking sucked. It was so much easier to be stubborn, prideful, and full of rage. But damnit, I really enjoyed Game of Thrones and all these bitchen superhero movies that would cease to exist if the apocaly
pse happened.
After a few minutes of blessed silence and self-contemplation, a tall figure entered through the door and came to sit next to me without pausing. I recognized his smell before I saw the pointy ears in my periphery.
“Hey, Taylor.”
“Greetings and salutations, hero,” Taylor said, placing an admiring hand on my shoulder.
“Hero? I don’t know about that,” I said, taking a long pull from my drink, finishing it. I held up the empty glass and shook it slightly while scrunching my face with the sweet, sweet burn. Val nodded and began pouring a fresh one.
“Allow me,” Taylor said, placing a crisp hundred on the counter and sliding it towards Valenta.
“Don’t know if I want any Fae to pay for my drink there, bud,” I said, setting down the empty glass and picking up the full one.
“No strings. And once again, I’m a friend of this plane and don’t play the Fae games of the other courts.”
“Well then, cheers,” I said, taking a sip from the glass, letting it slide down my throat. I was beginning to feel the effects. “So the Seelie court is a friend huh?”
“Yes. I would very much like to be your friend, which is why I am here.”
“Oh Lilith, here it comes,” I said, rolling my eyes.
“The Shadow Court is upset you didn’t kill Ulric, or the other way around. Well, not as much “upset” as they are “pissed,” he said with air quotations. “They don’t know where Ulric is, but they know where you are.”
“What do you mean?” I said with words that were beginning to slur, setting my drink down hard and turning to fully face him.
“They know you are in one of the largest lay-lines in the region; Houston. They have countless they can send, and will send, to kill you and erase this earth until only darkness remains.”
“Let them come,” I said emphasizing each word, and turned back to my drink.
“They will, but know you have friends with the Seelie. We will be watching,” Taylor said before blinking out of this plane.