by Hunter Blain
With eyes still shut tight, I lifted my head to the mirror, willing my vision to see my normal, beautiful yet still rugged and manly face. My gaze set upon my old self, albeit covered in water. Droplets were falling from my reddish beard and onto my hands, which held the countertop. I looked down and saw a small crack had formed from the pressure.
“Shit!” I said as I pulled my hands away. I stepped back and looked at all the water I had thrown around in my barely controlled frenzy. Surprise and concern tiptoed through my mind, and I looked up to see myself staring back with piercing purple eyes. My hands explored my face, tugging my cheeks down to look at the whites of my eyes. The bags had smoothed to young skin again. Nothing seemed out of place. I flexed my canines and let them elongate easily into my preternatural fangs.
“All the better to drink you with, my dear,” I said to the mirror as I let my teeth return to normal. I grabbed a white cotton towel that hung on a rack and dabbed my face and beard dry. Then I soaked up the water on the vanity, cabinets, and floor. I removed my shirt and let it drop to the ground along with the towel. Let Future John deal with that.
I grabbed a fresh shirt and stepped into the living room where Da sat on the couch reading an article on his iPad.
“Where’s—” I started before Da answered my upcoming questions.
“Depweg is getting supplies. He waited for you, but he decided to leave before the stores closed. Locke is…elsewhere,” he let the last word hover with a hint of ruefulness.
“Da,” I said like a father sternly talking to his child, “where is he?”
“He had a dirty mouth,” Da said without looking up from the screen.
As if on cue, I heard the dishwasher switch from full rinse to superheated drying. There was a muffled cry that emanated from the stainless steel box. I rarely used the thing as I had no use for dining utensils with my preferred sustenance. I quickly made my way into the kitchen where my hand gripped the handle and pulled on the door. Nothing happened. I jiggled the handle again with some extra gusto.
“You have to hit pause, John,” Da sighed from the couch.
I squatted down and looked at the buttons, searching for the correct one to press. I spotted the one that looked like any pause symbol for music or movies, and pressed it. There was a click, and the door opened freely as I pulled it again. Steam billowed out as it opened. I could feel it caress my face as it ran to the ceiling and dissipated.
Peering inside, I saw Locke’s soaked head. His eyes were ablaze with fury. He tried to speak, but all that came out were unintelligible vowels around the ball gag in his mouth. My eyebrows went up in surprise.
“When did you get a ball gag?” I asked over my shoulder to Da as I slid the top rack that contained Locke out.
“If you couldn’t tell by the size, it’s not mine,” Da called back from the living room.
I unfastened the sex toy and held it up for closer inspection. I saw two marks made by fangs and said, “Oh, right. Lily went through this Fifty Shades phase and bought all kinds of stuff.” One particular memory made my butt clench reflexively.
With his mouth freed, Locke unleashed a torrent of insults directed toward Da. Something about a pretend angel and blah blah.
“Shh,” I said as I pressed my finger to Locke’s flapping lips. “Don’t think you want to go back in there, am I right?”
“Your powers of deduction rival your stupidity,” Locke said.
“Not sure how to take that.”
“Further proving my point. Now, can you kindly ask your sidekick to treat me with a modicum of respect?”
“Who are you calling a sidekick, you low-level villain. You’re one of the minibosses the game throws at you to make sure you understand the simple mechanics of the game,” Da chided while floating into the kitchen and pointing an aggressive finger at him.
“We are all pawns, tiny angel. Some of us just have bigger parts to play,” Locke said while his gaze shifted toward me. Or I assumed it did. His face was plastered with his usually greasy hair, as if he had just discovered the emo lifestyle. Annoyed, I ran my palm over his face and pushed the hair back over his head, clearing his burnt face.
“Da, please be nice to our guests who are planning to betray Satan and help us stop the apocalypse? Hmm?” I condescended to Da, annoyed that I even had to explain the situation.
“Well, look who has turned the other cheek,” Da said approvingly while giving my shoulder a little punch. Though he was only five inches tall, I now knew that the faerie, Da, hid immense power in his little frame. My thoughts drifted momentarily to the boy in the graveyard. In my injured blood rage, I had drained his mother of every ounce of her life force before trying to add him to the dinner menu. Da had miraculously stopped me by throwing me several yards with incredible ease. The icing on the cake was that the boy and his mother had been at the grave of his father. I had made the boy into an orphan and surely scarred him for life. I took pity in knowing no one would ever believe him that a monster had killed his mother. Da had assured me in private that he had taken care of the mother’s body by putting a glamour on her that made it look like she had simply died of a heart attack or something else mundane.
“Da,” I started slowly, hiding the emotion that was building, “how’s the boy?”
“He is taken care of, never you mind,” he assured me aggressively. “If you ask again, the answer will remain the same.” It was clear that he had forgiven but not forgotten about what I had done. Maybe he thought I would try and intervene in the boy’s life out of shame and regret, only to surely make things worse.
Da interrupted my self-loathing. “Now, are we going to play nice, Mr. Potato Head?”
Locke frowned in displeasure but remained silent out of self-preservation.
“Good,” I said. “All settled.”
A shrill whine shot through the air and invaded my ears.
“The hell?” I asked out loud.
“Motion detectors that Depweg had installed earlier tonight,” Da answered. “He was still concerned about how easily our new, um, friend arrived,” he put emphasis on friend, as if trying it on for size.
“Damn, I love that doggo,” I said in reference to my furry companion. “Hey!” I cried out, startling both Da and Locke. “He really is my best friend.”
Da and Locke sighed in unison.
“I’m telling him you made a dog joke,” Da said.
“Please don’t,” I pleaded sheepishly.
As if on cue, Depweg unlocked the front door and entered, holding several reusable bags of various supplies.
“Did it work?” Depweg asked.
“What?” I responded.
“The motion detection system.”
“Look, we both know it works. You’re just trying to get praise for a job well done.”
“You want me to change the alert sound, don’t you?” Depweg said.
“Yes, I do. How about the main theme to Batman?”
Depweg looked at me in silence, gauging what I had just said. After a moment, he concluded, rightfully so, that I was undead serious. “Alright, done.” Depweg’s eyes dropped to Locke’s head, who had been nestled in the crook of my arms as we spoke. His hair was still dripping as the drying cycle had only just started when I’d freed him from his clean prison.
“Um, did I miss something?”
“Nope!” Da quickly evaded. “Someone just needed a bath.”
“Okay then. Here, try this out,” Depweg said, handing me a neck pillow.
“Thanks, I guess?”
“Not for you, dummy. For him. It’ll help keep him upright until I can fasten something more permanent,” Depweg said until he realized it sounded like he was doing something nice for Locke. He leaned close to his face and whispered with teeth bared in a creepy smile, “This will also hide the gore hanging out of the bottom of your head and making me hungry.”
“I’m touched,” Locke said to Depweg in a show of defiant submission.
I moved the h
ead to eye level and asked, “Where did he touch you? Show me on the doll.”
“On second thought,” Locke began, “send me back to Hell, please. I don’t know how long I can take these awful jokes.”
“You get used to them,” both Da and Depweg spoke in unison.
Taken aback, I said, “Well, I don’t know what to say to that.”
“That’s a first,” Da responded. “Shouldn’t you be out, feeding?” Then he looked at me intensely. “On those who would do evil, correct, John?”
“That’s the plan,” I said as I turned to Depweg. “Up for some hunting? There’s been a lot of armed robberies downtown.”
“I don’t know…” Depweg trailed off as he laid down the grocery bags, unconvinced.
“An old lady and her husband were both hospitalized this week, and they never found their attackers…” I prodded, letting the last syllable hang in the air temptingly.
“Oh, alright.”
Slapping my hands together, I dropped Locke on the ground. “Oops, shit! Sorry ’bout that,” I said as I picked up the now angry head and wiped the dirt that clung to his wet hair.
“Da, why don’t you make yourself useful and vacuum while we are gone?” I spoke while securing Locke’s head on the travel pillow.
“Why? I already did the dishes,” he said with a smile.
9
Depweg and I walked the few blocks to the storage park where I kept my white Kia Optima. I glanced up at the bank of clouds that blotted out the stars and sniffed the air, smelling the sweet scent of coming rain.
“Hello, Mortis,” I said as the storage door rolled up. The air had a chill to it that cooled my skin, reminding me how hungry I was. My Predatory Self was also beginning to whine inside my mind. I know, I know. We’re going, I said inwardly, feeling his frustration.
Depweg went to his side and reached for the door handle that still rested in the cup holder.
“Oh, right,” I said as I got in and opened his door for him. Depweg got in and we headed off toward downtown Houston.
“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Depweg spoke, breaking the silence. “Why do you call him Da?”
I chuckled before I said, “It’s short for Devil’s Advocate because the little dude won’t shut up about every decision I make. I don’t actually know his real name. The only one he ever gave me was of angelic origin, so I refused to call him that. I’m not supporting his delusions.”
“What delusion is that, exactly?” Depweg asked.
“That he’s a five-inch angel and clearly not a faerie. Have you ever met an angel that can shift planes?”
“I’d never met an angel until yesterday,” Depweg said.
“Fair enough. But trust me on this; I’ve met plenty of demons, and none of them could shift. Safe to say that angels follow the same rules.”
Depweg pondered this by stroking his square chin, then made a pointing gesture. “But faeries can’t lie, right?”
“There are all kinds of faeries, my friend. From what I have gathered, the Fae of the courts cannot lie. I personally think it was so they could conduct business with each other and know the truths. Otherwise, they might still be at a useless war with one another.”
“Peace for the sake of progress,” Depweg mused.
“What is that, a quote?” I asked.
“You can quote me if you like,” Depweg responded. “But just so I understand, you are saying there are faeries that can lie? That doesn’t make sense.”
“Can you shift during the day? Can I walk into a church full of crucifixes while chewing garlic-flavored gum?”
“They make those?” Depweg asked jokingly.
“I don’t know, probably. I’m sure hipsters would be all over them. But back to the point—don’t believe the lies we convinced the humans to believe.”
“I was human, once. Stands to reason I would be susceptible,” Depweg said with placation evident in his voice.
“Right, which is why you believed these falsehoods, just as you once believed in a fat man in a red suit shimmying down your chimney to give you presents if you didn’t drive your parents crazy all year.”
“Krampus is what kept kids in line. I used to lie awake at night reliving the events of the day to make damn sure I hadn’t done anything wrong.”
With a terrible German accent, I said, “You Germans are weird, man.”
“Wasn’t just us, you damn Scot.”
“I’m Irish and you know it!” I barked out. Depweg chuckled as the bait was taken.
As we drove, the streetlights were hypnotic as they raced toward the car and then away from us. The city had just switched to LEDs, which really illuminated the road. I turned on the radio and set the volume low, just to fill the background with rhythmic ambiance.
“So, what did he say his real name is?” Depweg asked.
“Raziel. Can you believe that? I mean, it is a cool name, but still.” I had my own quirks and internal demons I battled, but at least I was honest with myself about them.
“Raziel, huh?” Depweg said, letting the word linger on his tongue as if it were a fine wine he was savoring.
“Sounds fancy, doesn’t it?” I added before pulling down a not-so-well-lit road. Used-tires stores and body shops littered the surroundings.
A question that I had to ask was coming up my throat and heading for my mouth, and like a wave of vomit, it was not to be denied.
“Hey,” I began, my voice sounding unsure and meek, “Can…can I ask about what Locke said?”
“Which part?” Depweg asked, cocking an eyebrow at me.
“About…you know…the kid.” As soon as the last word left my mouth, Depweg’s expression turned sour, and he quickly turned to look out his window. His knee started bouncing up and down in agitation as he thought. I kept my mouth shut, terrified I would make things worse. I was about to take back the question when Depweg’s knee stopped moving and he spoke.
“It was just before we met. The Nazi werwolf hunter set a trap for me, and I fell for it in my hubris. I used to think I was the top of the food chain and indestructible. How wrong I was.” Depweg shook his head, ashamed of his past self.
“What happened?” I prodded carefully. I knew how hard it was for me to talk about what I had done in the graveyard when I’d been in a blood rage.
“I was hunting Nazis and not being careful about it. I left behind shredded bodies in my path as a calling card. So stupid!” he cried out as he clenched his fists and shook them in the air.
“Hindsight is twenty-twenty, my friend.”
Depweg relaxed slightly before continuing. “It wasn’t hard to plot where I was heading. By then, they had figured out—or at least correctly guessed—what I was, and set a trap for me.
“I approached the town where the Nazis had set up camp and began stalking my prey. I should have noticed how empty the place was compared to the ones before. I came upon a lone soldier leaning against a flagpole that flew the Third Reich’s flag. In front of him were burning mounds of dead bodies of what had to be the entire town’s population. The smell of all that decaying, blazing flesh was dizzying. The deafening sound created by the hungry flames was that of a train barreling down the tracks. The soldier seemed to just be standing there, admiring his handiwork, and it enraged me. No. It fucking pissed me off, and I reacted off my emotions. I howled into the night and began sprinting toward the soldier, who just stood there with his back to me.
“I slammed into his back, feeling and hearing a tearing sound, and latched onto the back of his neck with my jaws. I crushed his vertebrae before I heard him crying. It wasn’t the type of crying I had expected from a soldier. It was…higher, like a child’s. I opened my jaws and looked down at the crippled soldier. His arms were out to his sides, and I could see where his hands had been ripped off at the wrists. Confused, I turned to regard the flagpole and saw child-sized hands hanging from shackles, dripping blood. There was dirt under the nails like you would expect from a young boy. Stacked at the
base of the pole were schoolbooks that the soldier had been standing on.
“I began whining as I looked back down at the body that was clearly wearing a uniform that was too big for him. As carefully as I could, I used my snout and nudged the body below me onto his back. He screamed like a teapot as his neck was turned, and all doubt of whom I had just attacked was erased.
“My heart sank as I stared down at a child no older than five years old. Safety pins kept the adult-sized uniform fastened to the boy. He was screaming. His face was cut and bleeding from where he’d struck the ground, and I began licking his face to try and clean him. All I did was make him scream more, but this time in fear rather than pain and surprise.
“I could feel the fur under my eyes soaking with my tears,” Depweg said just above a whisper, as if his mind were detached and miles away. “I could taste his blood, and it filled me with despair. I-I couldn’t believe what I had done in my rage,” Depweg told me with a cracking voice full of emotion. Tears had begun streaming down his face.
“Wha-what did you do?” I asked with a gulp, knowing it wasn’t my place, but unable to stop myself. I had stopped the car, and just stared at my friend as he exposed his soul.
Depweg shut his eyes tight while his head moved from side to side as if trying to erase the memory from his mind. “I heard laughing from in front of me, and the bastard who had set the trap walked out from the shadows. The smell of the bodies and the sound of the flames had concealed his presence from me.”
“‘He was just a poor little boy, monster,’ the werwolf hunter said to me. ‘Look at how he suffers still. What will you do?’