by Hunter Blain
We entered to find my faux coffin was shattered into pieces. I shrugged and started walking down the stairs, lighting the torches as we went.
“Nice trick,” Depweg said.
“It’s fun at parties,” I said, pretending to be my old, non-exhausted self.
As we passed through the door and into the first shipping container, I was greeted by Father Thomes, who had a giant black garbage bag in his hands. I froze as we made eye contact.
“Hello, my son,” Father T said warmly.
“H-hi, Father,” I responded, obviously confused.
“I do hope there are no hard feelings, child. I thought it best to keep you secure until your bloodlust was under control and the supernatural community had stopped looking for you. You understand?” He asked like a parent explaining to a child why spanking them is actually for their own good.
“I suppose you might be right,” I relented to Father T, letting my shoulders relax and posture return to normal. Val had warned that the supes were out to get me, free from all consequence for revealing myself to mortals.
Once I let my focus relax from the Father, I looked around to see that the Fortress of Solitaire, was mostly empty.
Da floated in from the bedroom and saw me looking around at the places where our furniture used to be.
“The water damage was extensive, I’m afraid. We’ve already removed the damaged pieces before they started to mold,” Da said informatively. I looked at him and nodded. He had forgiven me for my trespasses.
An idea struck me and I ran to my locked cabinet. Undoing the lock, I opened the doors to reveal my intact Battlefield Earth collector cups.
“Oh, thank Lilith!” I said, breathing a sigh of relief.
“I told you we should have removed them when we had the chance,” Da said to Father Thomes. I wasn’t entirely sure he was joking.
“Da,” I began unsteadily, “the…boy?” I looked up to see him bow his head and nod it up and down.
“He is well taken care of. I found him a home and provided a stipend from your funds that will provide him for his entire life,” Da said with a calm, soothing voice, as if he were explaining a tough situation to a child who couldn’t quite grasp the severity.
“Thank you,” I said with tears in my eyes. “I am truly blessed to have you all in my unlife.” I turned and regarded my three friends, who were smiling and nodding.
“Not just us, John,” Da said. “Val is crafting us new furniture as we speak.” He regarded Depweg. “Should we suggest one more bedroom set?”
I looked at Depweg who was still smiling. “Yes.”
“Before you take a vacation,” Father Thomes said with his index finger raised, “there is still that demon to take care of.”
Turning to the group I threw my frayed and burned duster to Da who caught it with his little body and said, “But dddaaaaadddd. Can’t I do it tomorrow?”
Epilogue — Part 2
Across the ocean, on a hill just outside of London, a tree had grown miraculously larger than all the others. It is this tree, which sprouted thick branches, that a hunter strung an out-of-place deer from. There normally isn’t large wildlife this close to the city and the hunter tracked the trophy worthy animal to this very spot. Unbeknownst to the man, this was same location where the being who caused the Great Fire of London had slumbered many years ago.
The hunter cleaned and gutted the deer, letting the entrails and bodily fluids splatter to the ground at the base of the tree. This animal was indeed huge and full of warm blood that soaked greedily into the dirt.
As the hunter worked, he noticed from the corner of his eye that the pile of guts moved once on the crimson-soaked earth. He leaned down to further investigate, a puzzled look scrunching up his face.
A blackened, blood stained claw, complete with tendons that were growing at an impossible rate, lashed out from the ground under the pile and grabbed the hunter’s throat. His scream could be heard for miles before being abruptly cut off.