by Al K. Line
Something clicked into place in my reality as my anger rose and my indignation at being abused in such a manner consumed me. For once, my obsession with looking dapper would help me out of my slight predicament.
I focused on my leg and looked down as sensations from overstimulated nerves engulfed me. I felt sick and like a demonic swarm of hellhounds were attacking me as I willed the physical agony into being in my ethereal form. Red sparks of angry hurt spasmed around my lower leg as I watched the limb glow red and feel more solid. I focused and willed my mind there until the hurt flared bright in my mind's eye.
Clinging to it, drawing close the familiar sensation of frayed flesh and nerves and the ravaging of my body, I felt my leg twitch even though it didn't move.
That must be me, the real me.
Deeper I went, mind screaming with agony as the full extent of the damage became apparent. It was as if I'd been slowly seeping blood for days, as if an open wound was festering and was doing nothing to fix the jagged flesh I could easily repair. No way would I allow myself to become infected and killed by a damn dog bite. I'd survived a zombie infection, a dog paled in comparison.
But I held off, refrained from allowing my body to fix itself. Incited, I sank deeper into a familiar sensation of suffering and allowed the inner anguish to build until it was all there was.
I fought for my life, for my very soul, and I drew myself closer to that deep, aching hurt of physical flesh and corrupted meat. Let the channels of powerful sensation draw me back to a world where things were solid and I had all my senses if not much sense.
Without knowing why, I screamed and raked the air with hands locked rigid and split the blackness aside.
A tear howled into the emptiness, a rip back into reality, and I stumbled, aghast, as light and sound and experience and sensation flooded through the cracks into my mind.
Through a jagged split in the blackness I saw a room, and in that room sat a man. He had bleached hair and looked handsome yet tired. Yup, it must be me, that's my look. My face was gaunt, massive bags of dark brown exhaustion around the eyes, skin waxy and body limp.
There was a dark stain at my leg where the dog had savaged me and a brown patch on the carpet beneath my foot. In fact, there was a stain around my crotch, too. My body was slumped back into the sofa, utterly relaxed, but even as I watched, my face spasmed and drew into a rictus of agony as I fought to connect with the weak creature that was almost dead to the world. I couldn't let that happen. If he died I died. No tether at death meant my soul would be lost for eternity.
I reached out and gripped the sides of the tattered rent in the darkness and my physical body did likewise, me controlling or it controlling, I had no idea, but it was working and that was all that counted.
My hands, physical and spiritual, sparkled with power as they forced the gap wider. Light flooded into my darkness, sounds of birds chattering and passing cars a background hum so welcome I wanted to cry.
I willed everything I had into prising the gap open and as I did so my physical body got to its feet, the eyes still closed but the limbs moving.
"Now, do it now," I screamed, and the eyes of Faz Pound sprang open so viciously and with such fury it made me afraid. Then he smiled and without warning his eyes snapped hard to black as an incredible pain speared into my psyche. My essence was stretched out like a taut line, and with agony I never knew existed I rebounded like a released rubber band and shot through the crack in reality, gasping deeply as a sense of wholeness I never knew was my default setting enveloped me.
I was back. And I was seriously pissed off.
Nobody makes Faz Pound pee his pants, it just ain't dignified.
Cup of Coffee
Senses hit like a smack to the face with a box of every smell, taste, and emotion in existence. For a moment I teetered, overwhelmed and close to blacking out. I'd forgotten such things were possible, how visceral and overpowering the world of form, feeling, sound, smell, and touch was. How the hell did we cope with this constant barrage and stay in control?
I let the noise coming in through the open window slowly slot back into order, a background hum not overwhelming. Fading sunlight, the warmth on my skin where a ray tickled my cheek, the feel of my suit, the damp at my crotch, the ache in my leg, it all settled down to familiar sensations. But for a moment I experienced everything at a heightened state and it was beautiful.
Wobbling, weak, and half deranged, still discombobulated and remote, I staggered to the sofa and sank into it like I was a jellyfish, not a solid bone in my body. I was so thirsty, so hungry, and so overcome with emotion that I wasn't sure what was what or even what the feelings truly were.
All I knew was that death was close. I'd gone too long without the sustenance needed to stay alive.
Had Jerard planned to let me just fade away and die? Was this what he'd done to Morag and she too had clawed her way back and then sent for me to deal with him? Guess so. Why hadn't she tried herself, though? I smiled at that, lips cracking and oozing blood. It was obvious. Because she didn't think she could beat him. Was using all her magic to fight the inevitable, had no idea if he could somehow do something that would mean she would truly die.
Ugh, what was I thinking? Of course this wasn't what had happened to Morag! She was up and moving, plotting and planning, but her soul was still imprisoned, that was the whole point of this. Maybe Jerard had trapped her body, too, but she'd beaten that, just not by getting her soul back.
It didn't matter, not now. What mattered was getting my act together and exacting revenge for what he'd done. He'd crossed a line. This went beyond what was acceptable. You don't tamper with someone's afterlife, it's just not the done thing. You certainly don't leave them to slowly die sat in a puddle of pee while their spirit dissolves like a gremlin in eighties water.
I focused and shunted weak magic into my leg, drawing on the Empty and my inner strength to repair damage that was bad but not irreparable. Even in my depleted state, a background of magic had been quietly at work, staving off necrosis and ensuring I didn't get infected. It was just damaged flesh, easy enough to repair. Even as I thought such things I felt skin and muscle tighten as cells replicated and burst blood vessels grew and reconnected.
Okay, that was taken care of, what next? Get in touch with Kate. She'd be worried sick as I told her not to call or message me in any way and I'd check in regularly to let her know I was okay when I knew it was safe to use the phone. I fumbled it out of my pocket and groaned at the battery warning.
Quick as I could, I messaged her that I was fine then shut it down. Then, cursing, I pressed the power button to turn it back on. I should call Mithnite, find out where he was and if he could bring food. No, what was wrong with me? If Jerard did this to me then who knew what he'd do to Mithnite. But then, how had Mithnite managed to find me in limbo? Something wasn't right with that kid and I didn't know what. Nothing bad, but he wasn't what I thought. What had the faery said? That he was Hidden? I'd dismissed it as the rambling of the fae, but maybe she was right.
The thought of food sent my body to shaking. Water, too. My throat was so raw I felt like I was munching on pulverized troll washed down with Intus' favorite bathwater—lava.
With an ungodly amount of effort, my muscles feeling wasted, I managed to get off the sofa. I walked from the pleasant living room out into the hall and froze as the front door opened and Jerard picked up shopping from the step. Damn, how much did this guy eat? Then something hit me, mentally and physically. If he was doing his usual shopping routine, that meant the dog was still in the house.
I turned just in time to see a wild bundle of fur launch at my face.
A Little Help
Dizzy, head splitting from dehydration and utter confusion, body weak and reactions slow, I nonetheless conjured a shield moments before the terrier tore into my face. Its nose and teeth slammed into the shield so weak that it didn't stop the force of the dog from shunting me backward toward the door. It bounced off the
invisible barrier and landed with a yelp on the beautiful tiles, skidding away down the hall.
Depleted and off balance, the inadequate protection waned and I spiraled my arms as I kept on stumbling backward until I was caught in a tangle of bags. Crushing eggs and breaking bottles, the back of my head cracked against Jerard's nose before I happened to come up with the idea myself.
He grunted and swore in what I can only assume was French, and we both hurtled out the front door and bounced down the steps in a mess of groceries and blood.
We tumbled in utter chaos then landed hard with me somehow atop him. Keeping with my winning streak—okay, my luck—I smashed my head back and heard a satisfying crunch as I connected with his nose again. He screamed as the cartilage gave way. I rolled off him, landing awkwardly on a bottle of some healthy looking drink. It was green, so I assumed it was healthy.
Not sure if I'd make it, I tried to stand and somehow managed to. I grabbed the bottle and smashed it down as hard as I could onto Jerard's forehead. Bright green liquid splashed everywhere, mingling with the blood pouring from his nose, turning his face purple. Everything hurt, everything was shutting down, but I staggered off to the side and walked in a daze through the untidy street, across the road to my car.
All I could think of was to get away, but I didn't get far. The damn dog was at it again, worrying the same leg and tugging insistently.
"Stop!" I croaked, and he paused, looked up at me with my trouser in his mouth, and I poked two fingers toward him threatening to do what I'd done before. The terrier may have been a good guard dog, but he wasn't stupid, so with a whimper and his tail down he let go and scarpered back across the street and began licking the goo off his master's face.
I fumbled in my pocket for my keys, was elated and shocked to find them, then promptly dropped them and couldn't for the life of me figure how I was going to bend over and retrieve them without just falling over.
In a panic, I checked up and down the street, wary of trolls or maniacal housewives with poodles, and there he was, my savior.
With the sun setting behind him, deep in shadow, came the silhouette of a man I knew well. His shirt was loose, flapping in a balmy breeze, and he wore a cowboy hat on his head to keep the sun off. His hair blew across his shoulders and his jeans were tucked into work boots.
"Mithnite," I whispered, before I fell over, cracking my head on the car mirror on the way down.
Wounded and Dangerous
I must have only been out for a moment as when I opened my eyes he was just reaching me. He bent and said, "Are you kooky?"
"Am I kooky? Um, should I be?" I asked, confused. Was this slang?
"Okay, I said are you okay?"
"Oh. Yeah, fine. What makes you think otherwise? Is it the hair?"
He smiled before helping me into a sitting position, and I hardly even grumbled or screamed much at all. I certainly didn't start crying a little and rest my head on his shoulder, and you can't prove otherwise.
"Come on, let's get out of here," said Mithnite, picking up the keys then putting his arms under my shoulders to lift me up. "Nice car by the way, can I drive?"
"No, it's a rental." After much struggling and me having to do all the work, although I didn't tell him that as he did look buff but it obviously wasn't functional muscle, I was on my feet. I brushed myself down, weary but still with standards, and then marched across the road, empty of all emotion now apart from anger.
"What are you doing?" shouted Mithnite, car door already open.
"I'm... I'm gonna..." I wasn't really sure, and my throat seemed to have closed up. I had no saliva, and when I licked my lips I felt the rough, blistered surface and tasted blood on my swollen tongue. What was I going to do? This guy had ripped my soul right out of me within seconds of us meeting. I needed a plan or he could do it again.
So I kicked him in the ribs and kind of, but with the utmost grace and style, crumpled onto him and sucked the magic right out of him.
At least I would have, if he had any.
"Huh?" I managed, delving deeper, searching for his talent, his mighty power. The focus and terrible darkness he had inside to be able to do what he'd done.
There was nothing. He was just a guy.
I looked up to see Mithnite staring at me in confusion, and then I followed the trail of his eyes as he looked at Jerard. Everything went weird after that.
When I looked back at Jerard it wasn't him, but a man wearing a strange yet familiar uniform. He looked like a postman, and as I shook my head and noticed the satchel, I understood I'd been duped. Again. The groceries were nothing but letters, packages, and leaflets. There was no green liquid, just blood. The dog was on the top step staring at me funny, then a man appeared at the door and shut it hurriedly after grabbing the dog's collar and pulling it inside.
I turned to Mithnite and said, only sounding slightly nervous, but definitely still in control and not at all overwhelmed or freaked out and concerned for our lives, "We're in his damn veil again. He's playing us."
"What are you talking about? Why did you attack this postman?"
"He's not a postman. Um, I mean he is but I thought he..." my throat seized up again and I couldn't talk. I needed water, maybe a brain transplant. Certainly something that would stop the damn craziness.
Mithnite's attention turned to something behind me and I rolled off the poor man and watched as Jerard, if it was him, walked carefully down the steps to avoid treading on the mail and held out a bottle of water.
"Can we talk now?" he asked, wiggling his eyebrows in a very French way.
Then Mithnite blasted him and he kind of exploded as if from the inside. Gore and blood sprayed in every direction.
The postman moaned, Mithnite looked pleased, and I just whimpered, "You blew up my water."
I wasn't even surprised when the remains of Jerard morphed into that of a mannequin. He probably had a house full of them for such occasions.
A Decoy
The postman got to his feet groggily, shook his head in confusion, then seemingly forgot about us and scrambled to recover his parcels and letters. He put everything into his satchel, ignored us completely, and hurried off down the street. He was gone. It was like he couldn't remember a thing, had no idea what had just happened.
Mithnite and I were at the car now, neither of us quite knowing what to do or say, just that things were far from fine and a long way from normal.
"This dude, this Jerard guy, has taken the soul of a witch called Morag. If I get it back, and I have like two days left now, if that, then she'll help Kate become fertile. That's the short and sweet version," I told Mithnite, knowing I had to fill him in now before I collapsed or worse.
"And he wasn't too keen to help you out with all that, I'm guessing," said Mithnite, back to being sarcastic although I have no idea where he gets it from.
"You could say that. Look, we need to focus, to see things as they really are."
"See behind the veil," he said, staring at the mess of the mannequin he'd exploded, the sight surreal with mangled plastic body parts strewn across the road.
"Exactly." I was in no shape to draw heavily on magic but I also knew I had it inside still, that I was far from defeated. I felt removed from myself, still partially in limbo, but understood it was the aftereffects of what Jerard had done. Mithnite having helped, being here at all, and obviously nothing like I'd assumed him to be didn't improve my ability to think, but I was sure of one thing. If we didn't deal with this now there wouldn't be a second chance.
"How do we do this?" asked Mithnite, frowning as he fought his battle with Jerard's illusions. He was sweating a little, body and mind struggling to keep the veil from falling, and I knew if I relaxed my guard for a moment I'd be the same.
"Just focus on your magic, let it settle in your mind. Will it to show you what your eyes really see. You'll feel all funny, like your head is stuffed with cotton wool for a few minutes, but then it'll pass and you'll see clearly. And we need to ha
ve a serious talk about this, my wayward student."
"Hey, I helped, right?"
I slapped him on the back. "You sure did. I'd be dead without you. Still, I think you have some, make that a lot, of explaining to do."
Mithnite grinned goofily and I couldn't help but chuckle. He was a good kid.
With no time to waste, we both let magic well up and settle in our minds. I felt my ink tingle, saw Mithnite's forearms swell as power surged through his ink as it did mine. This was no readying for letting magic loose and causing destruction, though, this was more subtle and to be directed inward.
Instantly, the world around us changed once more, the shiny veneer fading, everything becoming clear and crisp. Again, the streets and houses revealed their depressing nature, as if mourning the passing of a time when the veil was closer to the truth.
This was the seedy, dark underbelly of this foreign city. Everywhere in the world I'd ever visited was the same. There were always places you shouldn't go, where danger lurked and others would do you harm. Sometimes it was down to sheer poverty, others to desperation. No jobs and nothing to do meant crime skyrocketed, drugs took hold and communities were decimated. Places the officials were embarrassed about, wanted to hide, pretend didn't exist when just streets away there could be large swathes of commercial properties, city hubs, or fenced and expensive homes. Every city had its undesirables and refused to take responsibility, preferring to blame those that lived far below the breadline rather than do what they could to help the citizens.
This was one such place, but Jerard had decided to mask it, to make it something it wasn't. Was this just for the benefit of those that would seek him out? A way for him to hide in plain sight and to seemingly blend in? Maybe those less adept than myself would never see through this veil, wouldn't know there was anything amiss and would be lost to it immediately. Any thoughts they had of doing him harm would fade along with their sense as the veil took over, and they'd probably leave never recalling they'd been here, so intoxicating and clouded in magic was it.