by Platt, Sean
What use was great power when everyone was already leaving him alone?
He was right where he wanted to be, ruler of The Forgotten Kingdom, loved and feared by thousands. The Hand no longer bothered them. And war with The North, along with The Great Purge, was over.
Now was a time to rest.
A time to enjoy what he’d sacrificed so much for.
He had a place to live.
He had countless people to do his bidding.
He had power.
He could have any woman he craved, whenever he wanted.
His corner of the world might be smaller, limited to an island, but it was still his for the taking.
He no longer had to fight for it. While Jacob might have rose-colored memories of what their old kingdom was like, he never knew the battles waged to maintain that glory — against enemies within and outside the Kingdom.
He was too damn old for fighting. Let the others quarrel for scraps. He was content with his kingdom even if its appearance was less than majestic. There was an advantage to being king of a place that nobody wanted to rule. Nobody was aiming for his head. But if word got out about the crystals and their power, all of that could change in an instant.
And who would protect the crown?
Certainly not his whiny bitch of a son, Jacob.
He passed through one last corridor then came to his meeting chambers where Mason and Barron were standing at attention, eager to tell him something.
“What is it?”
“Someone came through the portal a few days ago,” Mason said.
“Who?”
“Your son, John.”
Twenty-One
John
They’d been walking along a wide dirt road for a few hours as the sun began to rise just above the horizon, painting the sky in violet and orange.
They could see hoof-prints and narrow wagon lines in the pre-dawn light, indicating they were on a popular, and hopefully safer, path than they’d started on.
Everyone was quiet for most of the trip. John imagined most of them were battling fear and processing grief over all they’d lost. John didn’t know any of the Omega agents well but imagined that Sanders and Jenk had lost good friends to the werewolf attack.
Even Larry and Hope were quiet, trudging along with heavy uniforms and heavier packs.
John wasn’t tired, yet, but he was getting hungry. If they didn’t find enemies to feed on soon, there would be trouble. He’d planned well for the trip, feeding just a day prior to crossing through the portal. But after racing after Hope and the werewolf, he’d burned through his reserve.
And soon he’d pay.
He’d been walking point with Sanders but fell back in line with Larry and Hope, walking side by side.
“How are you two doing?” he asked, his voice low.
“They got a McDonald’s around here? I sure could use a Big Mac, fries, and a Coke.”
“Yeah, I’m not digging this leather, either,” Hope said, taking a bite of jerky from their surviving supplies.
“Yeah, and nobody thought to pack any Mountain Dew? What is this shit?” Larry joked, holding up a bottle of water.
Hope laughed. “That would be water, Larry.”
“What the hell is this water stuff? Is it like Mountain Dew without … you know, all the good shit?”
“I know this must come as shock to you, but water is a compound, which you’ll find naturally occurring all over the planet. And, believe it or not, you rarely see it in fluorescent green. Mountain Dew is water with lots of caffeine and too many chemicals.”
“What?” Larry joked. “You mean Mountain Dew doesn’t rain from the sky, blessed by the kisses of angels on the way down?”
John smiled. “Great, now you ruined Mountain Dew for him.”
“N0,” Larry said, “you only made it sexier.”
“Wait, I thought you packed a bottle or two,” John said, clearly remembering giving Larry shit about it.
“I drank them right after we crossed over,” Larry admitted.
Hope laughed. “You are so sad.”
The three of them laughed, and Emma, who was behind them, started laughing too. It was the first time John had seen a smile on the glum teenager’s face.
Laughter ceased when Sanders and Jenk shot back stern looks at them: How the hell can you all be laughing at a time like this?
When Sanders turned her attention back to the road ahead, Hope covered her mouth, eyes watering. “Oh God, I can’t hold it in,” she whispered, which, of course, only made Larry’s fit that much worse.
John fell back a bit to gauge Emma’s temperament, and maybe dig into the source of the bad vibes he was getting from her. She’d been giving him the stink eye ever since they met. He had a decent idea why, but would have to broach the topic carefully to resolve it.
“How are you?”
“Okay,” she said, no longer laughing, though the hint of a smile still played with her mouth.
“We’re going to get your brother. I know Omega and The Guardians pissed you off, and treated you and Logan like shit, but they’re not all bad. Sanders is one of the good guys, or gals, or … whatever; you know what I mean.”
Emma looked up at John with a flash of accusation, “I’m supposed to take your word for it? John the Traitor?”
And there it is.
“We all had choices to make. They used you to get your brother working for them. They used Hope and someone else on me. But I was trying to do the right thing.”
“By rounding up Otherworlders and Halfworlders and taking them to some black site to interrogate, or kill, them?”
“I didn’t kill anyone who didn’t deserve it.”
“Deserve it?” Emma laughed.
“I only killed threats, people who were planning heinous shit or who had already done something unthinkable. People in league with Jacob, wanting to open portals and start a vampire farm on Earth.”
“No, I saw plenty of good people taken, gone without explanation other than the company line saying they were ‘enemies of the state’ or some other such shit.”
“There were some bad apples in Omega, and now they’re gone. But I promise: you, me, and Sanders, we’re all on the same page. We all want the same thing.”
“And what is that?”
“To stop a massacre of the human race.”
Emma rolled her eyes.
“You don’t believe me?”
“How can you know what this Jacob guy has planned? Did he tell you his plans to conquer the world whilst twirling his moustache like some movie villain?”
“You know how you and your brother share a telepathic bond? Same with us. I can see things he’s thinking. I know what he wants. If you saw what I’ve seen, you’d be scared, too. Plus, he’s more or less asked me to join him in taking over the world.”
“If you have a bond, why not use it to track him? Why even involve my brother or me?”
“Because he can lock me out. I only get occasional glimpses, usually while sleeping.”
“So, if you get glimpses of his thoughts, then it stands to reason that he gets glimpses of yours, too? Maybe he even knows we’re here, that we’re coming for him? Hell, maybe he sent the werewolves after us!”
For the first time, John saw fear in Emma’s eyes.
“That’s why I’m not sleeping until we find him. So I can be on guard, can sense any attempts at intrusion.”
“But can’t he sense that you’re here? Is there any way for you to block that?”
“Yes, as long as I can maintain focus, I can keep him from sensing me. It’s all in the spells.”
“I hope so. For all of our sakes.”
“We’re gonna get through this, Emma. We’ll find your brother, and I’ll make sure neither of you ever has to work for The Guardians again. Your obligation to them is over.”
“Really?”
“I don’t know what they used to pressure your compliance, but I don’t believe coercion ever
buys loyalty or the best results. If you work with Omega, it should be because you want to, not because they’re holding something over your head.”
Emma’s eyes began to water. She turned away, not wanting John to see her wiping tears with the back of her hand.
“Thank you,” she said, still turned away.
“You’re welcome. I’m going to go check back in with my friends.”
He caught back up to Larry and Hope, who were discussing the werewolf that had left Hope alone rather than killing her.
“What do you think it means?” Larry glanced at John with a knowing look that suggested he come clean.
Hope said, “I don’t know. It’s the strangest thing, but I feel like I’ve been here before.”
Larry was looking straight at John, barely hiding it now. He may as well be holding a big fucking sign that said: TELL HER THE BIG SECRET, JOHN!
John would have to tell her, eventually, but this wasn’t the time. It was one thing to reveal that she’d been mind wiped for nearly a decade to protect her, which in itself was a serious violation of trust. But to tell her that she wasn’t even human? What would that shit to do to her? And would she believe that he didn’t know until he found out she was a vessel made to hide one of the crystals?
He’d wanted to wait to tell her, until they were back home, in a safe and comfortable environment. A place where she had time to process the facts, at least the few he knew enough to tell her. And, if he was being honest, he wanted to wait until they’d spent a bit more time together. That their bond would be a bit stronger, not some tenuous thread it seemed to be.
Plus, it was quite possible that she could just snap.
John had seen these things go badly before — Otherworlders who’d had their Guardian-issued mind wipes not take. And when everything came back, it caused a mental collapse, psychic fissures. Otherworlder or human, the mind was fragile. To suddenly have something as fundamentally you as your past ripped out from under your feet, to be told that everything you believed was a lie, it was a core-shaking shock that could destroy even the strongest mind. And Hope had already been through so much.
Yet her memories seemed to be returning. If he waited any longer, there was no way he could help guide the process. She could have a total recall during the middle of a fight or flight for their lives.
And what then?
How would that be helping her?
John looked at Larry and nodded.
Larry returned the nod, then slowed his pace to give them space.
It was time to tell the truth.
Twenty-Two
Hope
“I’m what?” Hope asked, certain she’d misheard him.
“You’re not human,” John said. “You’re from this world.”
“How … how do you know this?”
“I found out when Jacob was looking for vessels holding the crystals. You were one of them. My father’s wizard had used you, along with several other people, to hide the crystals, then sent you all to Earth.”
“How long ago?”
“Probably when I came over with my mother and brother Caleb. Twentysomething years ago, I’m guessing.”
“But — I have a family, friends, and … No, it can’t be true.”
“Maybe he sent you over as a child. Maybe the people you grew up with were chosen to protect you; maybe they’re from this world, too, I don’t know. I don’t know any more than what I’m telling you. But your new memories, they’re from here.”
None of this made sense, yet was it any more bizarre than any of the other insanity that had hurled Hope’s life into chaos ever since John revealed himself as a vampire? No, and it certainly made sense of her strangest memories.
She tried to recall what had rushed through her mind during her encounter with the werewolf, but nothing would come. She saw flashes of animals that weren’t from her planet. She remembered having a dog, though couldn’t remember what it looked like. As for herself, she wasn’t sure how old she was in her memories, other than very young. Perhaps five? Maybe younger? Hope couldn’t see herself in the memories, only her hands holding stuff, and petting the blur of a dog.
“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”
“I just found out a week or so ago. And I didn’t know when to bring it up. It didn’t feel right to do so before we were back home and safe. I didn’t want to do anything that might … I don’t know, make things harder for you. I’m sorry.”
A part of her was angry at John for keeping more secrets, but with everything that had been happening ever since he came back into her life, it wasn’t as if they’d had any real time alone before being thrust back into action.
And he was telling her now.
“It’s okay.”
“Really?” he said, eyebrows arched under his helmet’s open visor.
“Did you expect me to yell at you?”
“I don’t know what I expected. It’s been a long time since we lived together. Sometimes I feel like it was a different life, that maybe you went on without me.”
“It’s weird. It’s like I’ve lived two lives. The last ten years as a florist, with a man I didn’t really know, and then … when we were together in Saint Augustine. Even though it was like a decade ago, it doesn’t feel like it. It’s as if I woke up from a long sleep, and I want to pick up and carry on with my old life, but …”
She tried to think of a way to say it without it sounding awful.
“But what?”
“There’s a part of me that no longer feels like that person. I don’t feel like Hannah the florist, or Hope the painter. I feel like someone entirely different.”
She hoped that he wouldn’t ask how she felt about him. She did love John, but there was a part of her that wasn’t sure exactly how she felt about him now. A lot had happened.
He wasn’t the John she’d known. The one she’d grown to love in that life before the long sleep. He was a vampire, someone she couldn’t even touch without dying. A relationship with a man like that was impossible.
Thankfully, John didn’t inquire. Instead he said, “What do you feel like? Do you think it’s these new memories messing things up?”
“I don’t know.”
She said nothing more, and neither did John. Together they shared an uncomfortable silence.
She’d always loved his quiet demeanor. He wasn’t like other men she’d been unfortunate enough to date — loud and obnoxious in their constant need for attention. John had always been confident, and didn’t feel a need to fill silence with chatter. They’d spent many comfortable mornings lying in bed, neither of them needing to say anything — simply enjoying each other’s company.
But this silence was the opposite. It was, in its own way, so loud that she felt a need to drown it with chatter.
She looked back to see where Larry was. He was always good for distracting conversation. But as she did, Hope heard Emma say something that stopped everyone in their tracks.
Twenty-Three
Abigail
As Judith recuperated, Abigail and Talani went to meet with the witch who had saved Abigail’s life.
It felt good to be back in her clothes. Though the pants, shirt, and hood were provided by Judith and not the jeans and cozy shirts she wore at Larry’s, there was comfort in knowing she could wrap herself in the cowl and hide her face if needed.
They were led through the tree’s spacious inner hallways by one of the Druwan. It might have been the one she’d already met — it was hard to tell because they didn’t wear clothes, all looked the same, and used Abigail’s voice to telepathically speak to her.
Abigail marveled at both the intricately carved tree turned into what felt like a giant apartment building, and the tiny floating lights dispersed throughout the place. While small, about the size of a hummingbird, they emitted plenty of light. Surely she’d seen several thousands of them already. A single tree could probably host millions. There might even be billions spread throughout the other trees, i
f they, too, were occupied.
“What are those lights?” she asked their guide.
“They’re sheng-shee,” the Druwan said inside her mind.
“What’s sheng-shee?”
“Tiny creatures made of light.”
“They’re alive?”
“Yes.”
“And you can tell them what to do?”
“We don’t tell them anything. They merely do.”
“Why?”
“They feed on our air. The relationship is harmonious, as are all things in The Sacred Woods.”
“Cool!” Abigail said, her smile giant.
They continued along, passing many Druwan in the halls and open rooms along the way. Some seemed to be working together on projects unseen. Some were standing next to one another, gesticulating as if talking, though Abigail heard no voices, so she assumed they spoke telepathically to one another as well. Others were simply standing still and staring into space.
They also passed other people, those deemed special enough to share the Sacred Woods with the Druwan. Abigail wondered how many were like the sheng-shee, useful because of some cooperative relationship that benefited everybody.
Then there were the things that weren’t people, or recognizable as even remotely familiar animals. Things she had no words for. Creatures that looked like crosses between all manner of species, a dog and a fish and a woman; a man and a bear; a spider and a cat. There were things her mind had no reference for, not even approximations of what these things were — all going about their lives in this strange and wonderful home inside the giant trees that composed the Sacred Woods.
In addition to the sights, Abigail heard all sorts of different sounds. Some seemed like languages; others were more primitive. And then there were the many smells. Sometimes good, occasionally putrid, and always offset by the sweet scent of the trees themselves, which was almost a blend of vanilla and cinnamon.
Talani was looking at Abigail with a weird smile.
“What?”
“Your face is all scrunched up funny. Is it the smells?”