The Holy Trinity Trilogy

by Madeline Sheehan

  I think he’d known then that he didn’t have much time left and he’d been trying to live a lifetime within the span of a few months.

  Now he was gone and I was left with only my memories. Again.

  Still crying, I drank the rest of the rum.

  When I was too drunk to move, let alone walk, I fell backwards on the shore and sunk into an alcohol-induced coma of misery and despair, praying that I wouldn’t wake up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Xan cranked the rearview mirror down until he could see his crew in the back of the van. “We’re losing daylight people; tell me you found somewhere to park tonight.”

  “There’s a park nearby that has a lake,” Adriana shouted. “Keep following Route 4035 until you reach Reese Hill Road. Reese Hill will take you to Hills Creek Lake Road, which will take you to Lake Road, which should bring you to the park entrance.”

  “Which will take you to my foot up your ass, which should bring you a whole lot of pain, which will bring me a shit-ton of happiness,” Onyx muttered beside him.

  He grinned at her. Fata really was the female version of him.

  The park was actually a pretty sweet setup. Lots of trees meant lots of cover. Cover meant extra protection.

  They decided to set up camp a short distance from the lake. While the others warded a decent-sized area, he set up their sleeping bags in the back of the van and then built a small fire that Nadya lit with a flick of her wrist. They decided to bathe in groups. Pesha, Simionce and Xan took first shift; Nadya, Adriana and Fifi went second. Feeling uncomfortable with the other females, Onyx had hung back, so he’d gone with her and bathed a second time. It was a good thing, too. He was so disgusting he wasn’t sure the first scrub down had broken through the thick layer of sweat and grime that had coated him.

  On a whim, he decided to shave and let Fifi take a blade to his face. Afterwards, she went to work on his dreads, checking first for lice. Pesha had picked up the vermin somewhere along the way and Adriana had been forced to shear his beard and shoulder-length hair. Seeing this, he’d laughed so hard his stomach hurt. Frate looked like Mr. Clean.

  Fifi found him clean and clear and proceeded to twist up his new growth, trim his dreads and burn the ends closed.

  He felt a hell of a lot cleaner than he had in a very long time.

  While Fifi and Adriana gathered their dirty clothing and headed back to the lake, the rest of them munched on what was left of their beef jerky and dried fruit. Nadya boiled lake water for drinking and afterwards boiled a bag of dried pasta and mixed in a precious can of peas they’d pilfered from a nearby community. Shelved in homes without heat, half the canned goods they’d come across had frozen during winter. The water in most of the cans had expanded, causing the cans to change shape, and as a result, their protective seals had broken. Long story short, the food had long since rotted. Bagged food, like pasta and nuts, or anything pre-dried were some of the few things that had survived.

  “Where to next?” Simionce asked around a mouthful of pasta.

  Good question. “I have no fucking clue,” he muttered. “Keep checking the surrounding areas, I guess.”

  “We could stay here while we look,” Onyx offered. “It’s a good place to keep camp.”

  Everyone agreed and he breathed a sigh of relief. They had a place to stay and a plan. That was good enough for now.

  Their bodies clean and their bellies full, one by one his crew began retreating to the van until only he and Onyx remained by the fire.

  “Did you ever think this was how we were going to end up?” she asked, sighing.

  He looked up from his cigarette. “No. But then again, I’d never thought of much beyond personal gratification.”

  “Do you think it’s even worth it anymore?”

  He knew where she was coming from. Hell, they all knew. Nicu had been dead on when he’d said they were just biding time before an early death came and snatched them away. “Yeah, fată, I do.”

  So he’d lied. Whatever. Just because he couldn’t comprehend a life without Trinity in it, didn’t mean he was going to hand Onyx a loaded gun and help her pull the trigger.

  “You’re gonna be okay, Onyx. We all are. I’m gonna make sure of it.”

  She smirked. “Honestly, Deleanu, I never took you for the fairy godmother type.”

  He made a disgusted face. “Oh, yeah? Well, I was sure you weren’t human. So I guess that just proves what a pair of short-sighted assholes we both were.”

  A full pack of smokes and a late night snack later, he left Onyx to scout out the area and do a perimeter check. Finding it all clear, he headed back to camp expecting everyone to be fast asleep.

  Instead, he found Onyx pinned up against a nearby tree, Simionce holding her there, his mouth covering hers, and one of his hands gripping the back of her head while the other held her leg up over his hip.

  Watching them, you would never think she was ten years older than he was. Trapped under Simionce’s larger body, she looked young, tiny, fragile, and surprisingly feminine.

  He couldn’t help but wonder when the last time was that Onyx had fully submitted to a man, if ever. Fata had a hard heart and could be a cruel bitch. But for Simionce, every bone in her body had melted into his touch. She’d become as docile and pliable as most females did when a man had their hands on them.

  “I’m sorry, fată,” Simionce whispered. “You gotta believe me when I say I’m for real, for you.”

  “Okay,” she whispered.

  Shaking his head, he turned away. The two of them were a surprising match. He doubted they would have ever hooked up if the world hadn’t gone to shit. But Pesha was right. There weren’t a whole lot of options anymore. Especially for their small group.

  But that didn’t mean what they were feeling wasn’t real. It just meant that, because shit went down the way it had, they were able to find in each other something that they’d been missing.

  He knew this because he’d lived it.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  I woke up to a star-flecked sky, with cool water lapping over my feet and calves. Groggily, I rolled to my belly and took a moment to let my stomach settle before rising unsteadily to my feet. I then proceeded to vomit the copious amount of Bacardi I’d consumed.

  My head pounding, I staggered back to my cabin, tripping over the mess I’d made and dunked my head in the bucket of fresh water I had on top of the kitchen counter. Ah. Much better. So much better that I took the bucket outside and dumped it over my head. Stripping off my wet clothing, I laid them out on the grass to dry and headed back inside.

  I knew I should clean. Being miserable is one thing; living in miserable conditions was another and would do nothing but further my misery. Not wanting to dwell on that which cannot be changed, I lit what remained of my strategically placed candles and started to clean.

  I took what I’d broken to the fire pit. The items I’d thrown, that had remained unscathed, I put away. I swept up the bits of broken dishes and crushed wax. I cleaned until the cabin looked fit for a miserable girl who was trying to pretend she wasn’t.

  Then I fixed myself dinner and sat down at the table to eat, staring at the empty chair across from me. Gerik had never sat in any of the table chairs. He was too big and too heavy. Most times, we’d eaten on the throw rug near the wood-burning stove. It was the symbolism that struck me. How alone I really was.

  After dinner, I made sure to document in my diary the last few days I’d missed while in a drunken haze. I wrote down every detail about Gerik’s transformation, starting at day one in the Catskills. Who knows? Maybe if I stared at the details long enough something will pop out at me, screaming, “Hey! You can fix this! You’re an almighty powerful wielder of magic and there’s a dragon out there that’s really a man, your man! So, get your ass in gear and go fix him!”

  But even I, in my most vulnerable state and wishing for a miracle, wasn’t that gods damn delusional.

  When I’d finished my recounting,
I gathered up all of Gerik’s clothing, and put it neatly away and out of sight. Everything except for the pair of jeans he’d been wearing when he’d first shown up. Hugging them close to me, I curled up in bed and began wallowing.

  Just like Gerik, I didn’t regret a single thing either. Not one. I didn’t regret falling in love with and marrying Xan and neither did I regret falling in love with Gerik and joining our soul. I didn’t regret him using dark magic to save his clan or the consequences that followed his brave act. Without the events that had led to Gerik finding me in a State Park in the middle of nowhere, we never would have fallen in love. Our soul would have never joined and I never would have known what it felt like to feel whole.

  My life had once been only a squandering of air. Then everything changed. Xan showed me how to breathe and Gerik gave me breath.

  Xan…

  Is it possible to be in love with two men? Teodora, my older sister, always had a bevy of boyfriends, all at the same time. It wasn’t possible, she’d said, to love two people equally. One will always outshine the other.

  In my case, that wasn’t true. Both Gerik and Xan had shone separately, but they were equally as bright. Their personalities were as different as their looks. Xan was dark skinned and dark minded. Gerik had been light skinned and even keel. The two of them had fulfilled different needs inside of me. What Xan brought out in me, Gerik could never. What Gerik made me feel wasn’t possible for Xan.

  Life truly was unfair and cruel. Gerik had been right. What kind of grand design could rationalize worldwide carnage? Turning good people into monsters? Tearing families apart, ruining and ending lives?

  How could nature justify taking from me, first my family, then my husband, and now my soul mate?

  She couldn’t.

  So I cursed her. And I cursed God. And I cursed every god and goddess I’d ever heard of. I was done with the bullshit. Religion and fanatical beliefs were crap, stories derived from humanity’s fear of the unknown and a desperate need to have an answer to an unanswerable question.

  I wasn’t afraid anymore – not of the unknown or the unanswerable, not even of death.

  Because now I knew the truth.

  There was no one looking out for us. There was no one up in the sky tapping his temple and wondering what miracle he was going to think up next. Whoever or whatever exists beyond the earthly plane has made ignoring us an art form.

  We were alone here. We’ve always been alone here. When we die and rid ourselves of our meaningless existences, we will die alone, our souls will abandon us for newer, better bodies and we will rot.

  Eventually, probably not too far in the distant future, there will be no one left to remember us at all.

  And then the world will be alone.

  And maybe that’s what nature had intended all along.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  After walking around in the dark for some time, Xan found a beaten path that headed into a heavily wooded area. It probably wasn’t the smartest idea to go off walking in the woods with only a couple of weapons for protection, but this was a big park and maybe Trinity had stopped here on her travels. Maybe she’d left something behind.

  Regardless, he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he looked. And he didn’t want the others around when he didn’t find any sign of her and have to witness another of his emotional breakdowns.

  A good thirty minutes later, he caught a whiff of something that blew by with the breeze. Sickly sweet floral scents and a hint of…sulfur.

  Dark magic.

  With his heart in this throat, he veered right off the path, following the ever-growing scent until he saw them.

  Wards.

  The forest in front of him would appear to anyone without inborn magic as a forest. But he could see the wards, shimmering in the moonlight, woven with wispy shadows that looked like skeletal arms and hands with long, spindly fingers reaching up and up, trying to grab at something that wasn’t there.

  He ignored the possibility that Trinity could be in there. That he’d actually found her. Because if it wasn’t her and he’d somehow come across Gerik or someone else – yeah right – he’d go completely insane.

  Maybe he was already insane. Maybe he’d lost his damn mind and he was seeing things. Grabbing his Zippo from his pocket, he tossed it at the wall of horrors and then jumped the fuck out of the way as it came whipping back toward him.

  So he wasn’t hallucinating. Good thing.

  After grabbing his Zippo and taking a deep, shaky breath along with muttering a quick prayer that he’d be able to walk through a wall of dark magic, he stepped through the wards. He could feel the shadow hands grab and grope him, sending frigid chills straight to his bones.

  As soon as he was through, he ran face-first into a Jeep.

  “Holy fuck,” he whispered, looking around.

  He’d never seen so many dandelions before in his life. And he was sure he’d never seen dandelions this fucking big.

  Set a short ways back from the wards was a row of six camping cabins. The first one had been destroyed. The walls had literally collapsed on top of one another. An image of what had once been a hospital flashed in his mind.

  The windows of the third cabin were flickering with firelight coming from the inside. Just to be sure he really wasn’t hallucinating, he punched himself in the side of his head and cursed loudly when it hurt.

  He passed by a fire pit with an impressive pile of logs beside it and his stomach lurched. No way could Trinity have done that. She could barely lift an axe. Either dark magic had turned her into the incredible hulk or this was Gerik’s camp.

  Gerik has wings. Gerik can fly. He wouldn’t need a Jeep. He probably wouldn’t even fit in a Jeep. Which meant they were here together. But why would Marko lie? Tobar had her gun, which meant he’d seen her. He said she’d been alone and that she’d been upset, and he had said she’d told him she hadn’t seen Gerik since the day of the attack in the Catskills…

  “Fuck it,” he muttered.

  He forced himself to move toward the cabin. Reaching out his hand, he grasped the doorknob, turned it slowly, silently, and stepped inside.

  A dark throw rug lay in front of a low fire in a wood-burning stove. A futon sat against the opposite wall, covered in a woolen blanket and throw pillows.

  Throw pillows.

  Half-melted candles lined the single shelf above the futon, interspersed between small stacks of books. The small living room opened up into a small kitchen area. Door-less cupboards were stocked with canned and bagged food. Stacks of dishes, dish soap, sponges and folded clothes lined the countertop. Turning left and to his right, he found the bathroom and his heart began to thud painfully. There were boxes of tampons, shampoo, conditioner, body wash, loofas, hairbrushes, ponytail holders, toothbrushes, toothpaste, and a stack of folded towels with a lacy, blue bra lying on top. And in the plastic basin sitting in the sink sat men’s shaving cream and a razor.

  He turned away and faced the partially closed door in front of him. Was he prepared for this? For what he might find on the other side of that door? Was he ready to see his wife in the arms of Gerik?

  No. But he toed it open anyway, wincing as it squeaked. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dark room, but when they did, what he saw lying amid a pile of blankets and pillows on the floor, highlighted in the moonlight, took his breath away.

  But then again, she’d always taken his breath away.

  He crept up beside her and dropped down to his knees. This close, he could see her clearly. She looked exhausted and pained, even in sleep. She was far too thin and he could smell the bitter stench of booze and vomit on her.

  Reaching out, needing to touch her, needing to know this wasn’t a hallucination, he ran his scar-roughened knuckles down her warm cheek. He choked back a sob that threatened. She was real.

  “Fucking hell,” he whispered. “God damn motherfucking hell…”

  Her eyelids fluttered open. She blinked sleepily and gav
e him a small smile.

  “Hey,” she said softly.

  He swallowed hard. “Hey yourself.”

  Her eyes went wide. Wide and…black. He wasn’t gonna lie, it was a little freaky; ten times worse than his mamă’s eyes during her visions, but he didn’t care. He’d get used to it. Fuck, he would get used to anything if it meant he had her by his side again.

  Scrambling into a sitting position, she grabbed his arm and dug her nails into his skin.

  “Xan?” she whispered.

  “Yeah,” he croaked.

  She threw herself at him and he gripped her tightly, thanking God, all the gods and goddesses, thanking nature, thanking every damn deity and supernatural power he could think of, that his wife was back in his arms.

  “Where have you been?” she cried.

  Tears burned in his eyes. “In hell,” he rasped.

  Pulling away from him, she cupped his cheeks. “I’m not dreaming?”

  He really hoped not. Because if he woke up and this hadn’t actually happened, he was fairly certain he’d be eating a bullet. “No, iubirea mea, you’re not.”

  She ran calloused fingertips across his forehead and over his eyelids, then down his cheeks, around his ears and into his hair where she grabbed fistfuls of his dreads and pulled him forward.

  “My Xan,” she breathed, rubbing the tip of her nose across his lips, inhaling him. When she pulled away, her eyelashes were wet with tears; her lips were parted as she drew in ragged breaths. He’d never seen anything so fucking beautiful.

  Then he kissed her. Really fucking kissed her. He kissed her the way he should have been kissing her all along. He kissed her because he loved her, because she wasn’t just his wife, but the love of his life, his very best friend, and the only family he would ever need. He kissed her because he worshipped her, because she meant the world to him, because she was his everything – his sun, his moon, the air he breathed, and the sole reason for his pathetic existence. He kissed her and tried to show her that he’d been made for her and that without her, life wasn’t worth shit. Without her, he wasn’t even half a man. Without her…he was nothing.