Death's Mantle 3

by Harmon Cooper

  “Oh yeah?”

  Connor looked at him incredulously. “Yeah, man.”

  “I’ll have to check my schedule,” Lucian said as he finished his bite.

  Connor lifted his fist like he was going to punch him. “You earned this one.”

  “Go ahead and try it, I’ll still kick your ass,” Lucian said, laughing.

  “Yeah, maybe in a video game.”

  “Just do me one favor.”

  “What’s that?” Connor asked.

  “Don’t do something insane like a destination wedding. I don’t want to go anywhere.”

  Lucian’s older brother went for another slice. “Not even Disneyland?”

  “What the hell am I going to do there?”

  “I heard that Star Wars exhibit is pretty cool.”

  “Yeah, maybe, but that’s the last place I want to be right now, surrounded by a bunch of people, walking for miles. Hell no. Maybe if it was virtual.”

  “You know we aren’t going to Disneyland, not with you anyway. Maybe with Jen. We’ll take a trip someday. The wedding is going to be here. You know that. Ma keeps asking me about a honeymoon, but I don’t want to fund it myself, and I don’t want her to feel like she needs to be on the hook for it. If we do go, it will be somewhere that’s easy to fly to from Boston.”

  “You should go to Spain,” said Lucian. “Somewhere in Europe. I don’t know. It sounds romantic.”

  “But not France,” Connor said. “I heard those people are snooty.”

  “Who told you that?”

  Connor finished stuffing a slice of pizza into his mouth and smirked. “I really don’t know, to be honest with you,” he said, his mouth full.

  “Just do something nice for her, for Sam. She’s a nice girl,” Lucian said.

  “That’s the plan,” said Connor. “That’s the plan.”

  And with that last statement, Lucian blinked his eyes open, the morning light spreading into his workshop, everything bright for a moment.

  He was lying on his back now, and as he turned to his side, he discovered that Danira was gone.

  And for a moment, he wondered if their little hangout session the previous night had all been a dream.

  But if that was the case, he wouldn’t be lying on the enormous bed with white sheets and pillows everywhere, the mattress easily twice as large as the one he’d previously had.

  “Nah, it was real,” Lucian told himself as he sat up, his crows coming to him. “When did she leave?” he asked on the tail end of a yawn.

  “Not long ago,” said Hugin in its androgynous voice. “She didn’t want to wake you. She told me to tell you that she would see you on the beach tonight, that she was sorry she had to leave before you woke up.”

  “Did she give me a kiss on the cheek or anything?”

  Hugin cocked its head, looking at Lucian in a funny way. “Not that I saw. If you’d like her to do that next time, let me know, and I will remind her to do so before she leaves.”

  “No, no,” Lucian said, a frown forming on his face as he realized what needed to happen next.

  As bad as he knew it was going to be, he needed to check on Connor and see how he was faring with Sam, especially after her discovery.

  He had a feeling it wasn’t going to be pretty.

  Chapter Nine: Leaving

  Lucian North’s Soul Points flashed in front of him.

  His MX-11 appeared in his hand; he waited for the green light on the side of the weapon to blink as his finger neared the trigger.

  Looking out to the lake that sat beside his workshop, Lucian lifted a few fairly large rocks from the water, firing at them, his crows zipping away.

  Ezra also abandoned the shoreline, the cat’s tail tucked between his legs as he ran to the safety of Lucian’s workshop, where he slid under the bed.

  Once Lucian had taken a few test shots, just getting a feel for everything, he started hurtling the rocks at himself, running along the shoreline and trying to hit them as they careened toward him.

  He only got hit once, the rock clipping him on the shoulder and knocking him to the ground, kicking up debris as it landed next to him.

  Getting the hang of things, Lucian conjured more and more rocks, some of them spiraling, others trying to hit him, and still others zigzagging over the waves, the surf now tumultuous, lashing against the shoreline as it grew increasingly agitated.

  He kept this up for a good twenty minutes, finally dropping all the stones back into the lake and letting the water settle as he considered his next option.

  Lucian liked using this weapon. It was starting to become his favorite piece, one that he trusted to always work.

  He was fully aware that he could create anything he wanted, but his MX-11 had been there since the start, and he was starting to have an affinity for it. It had a great response, and it was often his go-to weapon, a solid energy rifle especially useful at the start of a fight.

  So he decided to enhance it.

  As he had done with his lava sword, Lucian began focusing on the weapon, putting just a minute sliver of his mantlecore into the weapon, noticing that a glow emanated off its muzzle now.

  Figuring he could take a play from Danira’s book, in homage to her, he added a halo around the muzzle, which began to oscillate.

  Rather than use it just for decoration, or whatever hers was designed for, Lucian imagined the halo enhancing the power of the blast, almost as if it were some sort of satellite.

  Once the dark purple halo solidified, Lucian lifted his weapon, and as he did a giant stone rose from the water, this one four times as thick as the ones he had been firing at earlier, basing it off some of the boulders he’d seen jutting out of the water off the rocky coast of Maine.

  He aimed his upgraded MX-11 at the enormous stone.

  Rather than coming from the exit point of the weapon, his blast now emanated from the halo rotating around the muzzle of his weapon, where it formed a conical shape before connecting into a column of sizzling energy.

  All of this happened at the squeeze of the trigger, Lucian’s concentrated blast shredding the rock to bits, the cloud of stone all that remained in its place.

  “That’s the stuff,” he said, nodding.

  He summoned more rocks to fly at him, Lucian jumping back into the air and taking each of them out with trained precision.

  His MX-11 was definitely stronger now, and Lucian was satisfied as he lowered back to the ground, a cloud of dust now surrounding him that he had to wave away by conjuring a cyclone of wind.

  Hugin flew over to him, as if to remind him that he had other plans.

  “I know, I know.”

  And as much as it pained him to do, as much as he knew it was not going to be great, that he would possibly regret it, Lucian pressed his thumb and pinky finger together, vanishing in a swirling flash.

  He appeared outside his brother’s home, his crows with him, his two Grim Mechas fanning out immediately to make sure that there were no hostiles.

  His cape massaged his shoulders for a moment as Lucian took in his brother’s home.

  After a deep breath, he floated to his brother’s back door and pressed inside, where he found Sam and Connor arguing, Baby Jen crying as she looked between her parents, confused.

  “I’m calling your mother!” Sam said, her cheeks red from tears, her hair a matted mess as if she had been running her hand through it all morning.

  “Don’t… Sam, I swear to God, don’t get her involved in this. Don’t you do it, Sam!”

  “You said it was… No, I’m so stupid. Do I look stupid to you? Do I really look that stupid to you? Why would I believe that? Your bullshit excuses. You had a fucking kit where you kept the stuff. Why would you all of a sudden just quit? How naive do you think I am, Connor? Where are you getting these pills anyway? You got a drug dealer friend now? What… How could you, Connor? How could you do this to us!? We were supposed to be getting married!”

  “Stop yelling! You’re overreacting,�
�� he said, clenching and unclenching his fists. “You’ve got her all worked up too,” he said through gritted teeth, gesturing toward their child. “And we’re still getting married.”

  “Like hell we are!”

  They stood in the kitchen, Lucian’s niece in Samantha’s arm as the two parents stared each other down, Connor in house pants and a Patriots shirt with a hole in the shoulder; Sam looking like she was just about to step out the door, in a sweater and a jacket, a pair of tight jeans, and faux Uggs.

  “You… where are you getting these things? Why won’t you tell me? You have to stop!”

  “It’s just temporary,” Connor told her. “You don’t understand the fucking pain I’m going through, Sam! I know that sounds crazy, but you just don’t…” he placed his hand on his back, as if the pain had just come to him. “You don’t understand it!”

  “Then see a doctor! You’ve got a doctor, see him. Don’t…” She sucked back tears. “You’re sniffing this stuff…”

  “We’ve already been over this!”

  “You’re sniffing the stuff! What the hell is wrong with you?”

  Connor threw his hands up in the air. “It’s easier than swallowing it, and…”

  “You already told me this!” she said, yelling again. “I don’t care if it hits the bloodstream faster, or whatever the hell you said. Look at what you’re becoming, Connor. Look. Look! Go to the bathroom right now and look at yourself in the mirror. What kind of father are you? Look at yourself!”

  “Sam, you don’t…” He bit his lip, his fists clenched so tightly now that his knuckles were white. “I thought we were done talking about this. I’m going to go to the doctor. I’ll…”

  “You need to go to the doctor now, you don’t need to go to the doctor later, you need to go to–”

  “I’m not an addict, goddammit! I don’t need to go to rehab; I am better than that,” he said softly to himself. “Look at how much coffee you drink in the morning, you’re not going to rehab. Ever thought about that? You have coffee in the morning, you have coffee in the afternoon, you have coffee at night sometimes. That’s a drug.” Connor laughed bitterly. “Everything is a drug, right? Sugar, alcohol, coffee…”

  “Coffee?” she asked, whipping Baby Jen away from him, the child shrieking. “I can’t… I can’t take this anymore!”

  “Sam, get back here,” Connor said, his voice guttural now. “I said get back here, goddammit!”

  “I wish…” Lucian didn’t finish his sentence.

  He knew that it wouldn’t do any good, that he would have no power over what he was witnessing.

  They couldn’t hear or see him; he was utterly useless.

  All he could do was bear witness, all he could do was know of the tragedy that was to come, what would happen at the end of the month.

  In seeing his brother now, Lucian couldn’t help but hate him in some way. If he only knew how much other people cared about him, if he knew how much Lucian cared about him, that he had even entertained the idea of sharing this incomprehensible power with him if he were to die.

  No, Connor had become primitive because of this drug, because of what it did to him. He may have cared about others on the surface, but he only really cared about himself, about getting his own fix, that feeling that it gave him.

  Sam pressed through Lucian, slamming the bedroom door behind her, locking it.

  “Dammit!” Connor said, banging his fist against the countertop. He winced at the pain and looked at his hand, shaking it out. The look on his face went from anger to regret to a complete aversion to himself, a bitter visage that captured more than Connor would ever be able to put to words.

  No longer able to watch his brother, Lucian floated through the wall to find Sam packing a suitcase as quickly as possible, crying as she tossed clothes in, trying to comfort the toddler at the same time.

  “Just give Mommy another moment,” she told Jen, who sat near the door, sobbing. “Just give Mommy another moment.”

  Lucian floated back through the wall where he found Connor fuming, his brother walking back and forth, shaking his head, picking at a cuticle, trying to suppress the urge to bang on the bedroom door.

  But he couldn’t stop himself.

  Finally, he stopped in front of the door and pounded on it. “Let me in!” he shouted. “I’m serious, Sam, you let me in that door. Jen, I’m coming. Daddy is coming. I’ll break this door down, Sam! I don’t want to. You know I don’t want to. But I will.”

  “Connor, you get away from that door right the fuck now! I will call the police! I will tell them…”

  His brother stopped dead in his tracks, practically breathing smoke by this point. “No, you will not,” he said in a grave voice. “We just…” He took a deep breath, making a quivering noise. “We just need to work this out, Sam. Do you hear me? I know you can hear me. You and I need to work this out. Just let me in there. We’ll talk it through. Stop doing whatever you’re doing. Come on. Please.”

  “There’s nothing to work out!” she screamed through the door, her voice so loud that it caused Connor to stumble backward. “You need to fix this. Otherwise, I’m… I’m…”

  There was a long pause, one in which Tuck the cat peeked his head into the hallway, his eyes going wide before he got out of there as quickly as he could.

  “Otherwise, I’m calling off the wedding.”

  Connor pressed his forehead against the door, a pained expression sweeping across his face. “Please…” he said in a calm voice this time. “Please, Sam.”

  “Connor, you get the hell away from that door. Jen and I are leaving.”

  “Please,” he said again as shame rippled through him. “This isn’t what I want, Sam. This is… You know this isn’t who I am. I just need to get a little help. I will. I promise. I don’t want to be addicted to this stuff. I just had the pain, and it helped me with the pain. You have to understand. Please understand. Please. I’m…”

  Lucian floated back into the hallway, his MX-11 appearing in his hands.

  He lifted it at Connor, the purple halo oscillating around the muzzle of his weapon as he aimed it at the parasite sticking out of Connor’s shirt, one of its tendrils suckling at the back of his brother’s skull, its entire body pulsating.

  Lucian mashed his finger down on the trigger, the blast ripping right through the demon bug.

  Sam punched the bedroom door, startling Connor.

  He stumbled backward again as she kicked the door open, the tiny woman carrying their toddler as she dragged a carry-on suitcase behind her, which had a bra strap hanging out of the top of it.

  Rather than do anything, Connor simply sat in the hallway, the tears welling in his eyes mixed with anger, Lucian’s brother watching begrudgingly as she made her way to the end of the hallway and into the foyer, not reacting until she stopped.

  “I’m going to your mother’s,” she hissed, her voice as guttural as she could make it. “It’s the only place I have to go without going out of state.”

  “Please don’t go to Ohio,” Connor said, quickly heading in her direction.

  “I’m not going to Ohio, not yet. But I am going to your mother’s, and…” She grunted and slammed the front door behind her, Connor stopping dead in his tracks. He didn’t go to the window to watch her get in her vehicle and drive away, he didn’t go for his phone to try to call her and stop her from leaving.

  The big man simply cursed himself under his breath as he shook his head, eliciting short breaths that sounded like they were being dragged over jagged rocks before leaving his body.

  Connor sat on the floor, wringing his knees to his chest.

  After floating over him for a moment, Lucian lowered, taking a seat next to his brother.

  “Fuck,” Connor whispered to himself. “You fucking idiot.”

  Even though Connor could never know that he was there, Lucian placed his arm around him, ignoring his two crows, which now buzzed before him, waiting for instructions, and his two replicants,
which stood in the living room like bodyguards, entirely oblivious to what was happening.

  “Fuck,” Connor whispered again.

  It was by no means a stretch to say that all of this was entirely Connor’s fault.

  All of it.

  But Lucian knew that his pain had been real. Lucian remembered the medication he had been forced to take, what it made him do, and how it made him feel. It was nothing like the opioids his brother had grown to crave, but Lucian had still been dependent on them, and they had made him feel better.

  Sometimes.

  So while this was all his brother’s fault, the pain that had first triggered his brother’s addiction was very much real.

  And aside from all that, aside from where the blame lay even if it was entirely clear, Connor was also Lucian’s brother, and he needed Lucian at that moment in a way that he had never needed him before.

  And that’s where Lucian sat for the next hour, next to Connor, who never moved, his older brother just staring at the ground absentmindedly, occasionally sniffing.

  Eventually, he lay down onto his side, bringing his hands under his skull.

  “You’ve got to fix this,” Connor told himself as he started to grow drowsy. “Only you can fix this.”

  Chapter Ten: Angel Dust

  Fifth Avenue ran straight into Central Park, the tired pavement giving way to a swath of green surrounded by some of the world’s most exclusive residences. Cranes on the horizon pressing toward Midtown were a constant reminder that New York City could only really move in one direction, the new constructions made of glass and steel, impossible curves and shapes, from sabers to stacked cubes.

  In the end, the people living in the buildings were just people, Lucian confirming this as he absent-mindedly twisted through their walls, their death dates hovering over their heads.