Those Wonderful Toys: Preternatural Chronicles Book 7 (The Preternatural Chronicles) Read online

  “You know they won’t want to hear it,” Amy all but whispered to Bennah. It was more of a symbolic gesture than an actual attempt at keeping information from Locke, who stood just behind.

  “Does it say anything else?” Locke asked, leaning forward to try and better see the tome over the women.

  “Apprentice Locke, I think...” Amy began.

  “I think he would be exactly the one who could help,” Bennah said, meeting the confused Amy’s eyes with an expression Locke read as “trust me.”

  “Oh. Oooohhhh. Riiiiight,” Amy answered, nodding her head rapidly in agreement. “I will transcribe what I can and email the list to you, apprentice.”

  Locke thought it odd that she put emphasis on his rank, but decided he trusted these two; at least more than the Red and Blue Cloaks.

  “I’ve been meaning to ask...how does the Internet work in the In-Between?” Locke inquired.

  “Magic,” the women answered in unison.

  “Locke,” Bennah began, turning fully to face her student. “Please return to your home and await further instruction.”

  “But I—” Locke began before Elder Tafoya gave him a gentle push, causing him to take a step backward and into his own room inside his mansion.

  “Freaking wizards, man,” Locke drawled in a long exhale right as his phone went off, informing him of an unread email.

  14

  Depweg - Faerie

  Depweg’s eyes flung open as he sucked in a quick gasp of air. His mind quickly convinced itself that it had only been a dream and he was now awake inside the safety of his room.

  Sitting up, Depweg threw his legs over the bed and rubbed at his face. His hand rustled over his neatly trimmed beard, and the man let out a deep yawn.

  Standing up, he walked to the window that overlooked the kingdom and stretched his limbs as the early morning light peeked over the horizon. Joints popped and muscles slightly burned as they were awoken, but then Depweg was wide awake and ready for breakfast.

  After a quick shower, he put on his usual outfit—which was conveniently cleaned for him every night—and stepped into the hall, scratching at his chest.

  “Ope,” Depweg let out as he turned around and grabbed the crystal from the bathroom counter. Taylor had informed him that brief minutes without the crystal would only result in a small slippage of time that would be nearly negligible in the grand scheme of things; however, doing it too many times would add up.

  Stepping back into the hallway, Depweg saw a crouched Magni quickly tiptoeing toward his room.

  Depweg opened his mouth to call out to the boy, but quickly noticed the direction he was coming from.

  Narrowing eyes followed down the hallway to land on the door closest to King Taylor’s own private chambers.

  One corner of his mouth pulled up in a smile as he put the pieces of the puzzle together.

  “Boys will be boys,” he said to himself with a little chuckle before making his way toward the kitchen.

  The smell of cooking meat permeated the hallway the closer the were got to the kitchen, making his stomach growl and mouth fill with saliva.

  Stepping into the dining room, Depweg was greeted by a full buffet of his personal favorites. Thick golden waffles, fried chicken, sausages covered with barbecue sauce, scrambled eggs, wheat toast, and warm maple syrup.

  At the sight of the bounty, Depweg’s stomach began rumbling like an idling diesel engine, demanding it be stuffed to capacity.

  After his fourth plate—which, like the first three, had been piled several inches tall—Depweg patted his stomach and leaned back in his chair.

  “Hello, dog,” a familiar, unwelcomed voice dripping with authority rang out.

  Depweg shot to his feet, knocking his chair over, which clattered to the ground behind him.

  The Grand Master Warlock Vampire sat across the table casually inspecting his fingernails.

  “Ulric,” Depweg hissed out somewhere between horror and disgust. His hands tingled with the instinct to shift and rip this bastard’s head clean off. But something wasn’t right.

  Ulric sat in his maroon business suit instead of his battle robes, and continued to sit, making a show of not being an immediate threat.

  “What the hell do you want?” Depweg barked, cutting right to the chase.

  “To deliver a message,” Ulric responded, dropping his hand to his lap, satisfied his nails were pristine. John’s maker, the general of Hell’s army, and the next Lucifer locked purple eyes with Depweg’s. “In three years’ time, the gates of Hell will open, dog, and there is nothing you can do to stop it.”

  “I’ve already heard all this crap, Ulric. Stop playing games.”

  “How disappointing. At least John plays along.”

  “Yeah, well, I’m not John, now am I?” Depweg rumbled, getting ready to free the beast.

  “Sit,” Ulric commanded while casually lifting an index finger to point at the were’s chest.

  Depweg’s heart grew painfully tight, and all of his breath was expelled in a single shotgun blast of air as blackness bloomed in his vision.

  “Tay...Taylor!” Depweg hissed, unable to catch his breath as one hand gripped at his chest while the other drunkenly flung to latch onto the table so he wouldn’t fall over.

  Ulric brought his open hand up in front of him and closed his fingers in a come-hither gesture, and Depweg’s chair righted itself and flung to smash into the back of the were’s knees.

  Depweg collapsed into his seat, unable to gather the strength to hold himself upright any longer, and glowered at Ulric from beneath a perspiring brow.

  Bared teeth spilled drool as veins bulged on his neck, fruitlessly attempting to fight the grip Ulric had on his heart.

  Satisfied, Ulric dropped his hand and released his hold on the now trembling Depweg, who responded by taking in gasping breaths.

  Sensing his opportunity to speak, Depweg inhaled and turned his head in preparation for a scream aimed down the hallway. His mouth slammed shut as an enormous gray hand easily wrapped around the were’s head from the side, clamping his mouth closed. Only a muffled cry escaped through Depweg’s sinus cavity, falling short of alerting anyone in the castle of the intruder.

  Wide eyes struggled to raise and land on the emotionless face of a demon unlike any Depweg had ever seen. It had obsidian chains wrapped around it in some sort of binding that also acted as armor. Then the were understood; this was a summoned creature beholden to Ulric’s every whim.

  “If you scream, I will burn everyone in this castle to ashes, including the boy...and his little beloved.” Ulric let the words register within Depweg’s mind before continuing, “Do you understand?”

  Depweg let his eyes fall back on the man who could do exactly as he claimed, and nodded as best he could with his face still in the grip of the giant monster.

  “Good,” Ulric purred, flicking a wrist. The demon disappeared, leaving the two men alone. Only they weren’t men; they were monsters wearing man-suits masquerading as mere men.

  Alternating between rubbing his aching jaw and cheek where the joints connected, Depweg asked, “What do you want?”

  “Samael has instructed me to deliver a message, personally.”

  Depweg answered with silence, awaiting what the next Lucifer had to say.

  “In less than three years’ time, Samael will free you from the chains that bind, allowing you to embrace destiny.”

  Depweg took note that Ulric hadn’t said your destiny, choosing to leave the word ambiguous.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Depweg asked, not expecting an actual answer but willing to carry out the motions of the conversation. “Whose destiny are you referring to?”

  “That, I am afraid, is all I was instructed to say.”

  “Sounds like your master isn’t telling you everything. I thought you were supposed to be taking his job if the apocalypse starts. Shouldn’t he be showing you everything?”

  “When.”

  “
What?”

  “When the apocalypse starts. Not if,” Ulric corrected.

  “You’re only serving to prove my point,” Depweg countered, crossing his massive arms and lifting his chin to stare down his nose at Ulric.

  “Tell me,” Ulric began flatly while leaning forward, a malicious grin revealing his teeth, “How are Joseph and Dawson? I do so miss those two rascals.”

  The section of table the men sat at exploded upward into splinters as Depweg’s feral form ripped through his man-suit and lunged at Ulric.

  Furious fists the size of cinder blocks smashed into the now empty chair, crashing into the stone below and turning a small section into powder.

  Ulric’s disembodied laugh reverberated around the dining room, bouncing off walls and multiplying on top of one another like an entire auditorium of Ulrics all laughing at the snarling wolf.

  Something tickled the fur on Depweg’s knuckle, and he brought his hand up to see a fat spider staring back at him.

  On reflex, Depweg slammed an open palm across the back of his hand, crushing the insect with a cringe-inducing squish.

  Raising his hand away, Depweg’s eyes went wide as an army of smaller spiders began multiplying and crawling up his arm in a surging wave of chittering mandibles.

  Depweg let out a cry of shock and surprise as he began raking his free hand over his spider-covered forearm, but to no avail. Instead of being brushed off, the army of insects transferred to the other arm and began multiplying there as well.

  Flinging himself around the room and waving his wriggling arms wildly, Depweg dropped to one knee as he closed his eyes.

  “This isn’t real. This isn’t real. This. Isn’t. Real,” he repeated over and over to himself.

  The feeling of thousands upon thousands of spiders crawling through his fur reached his shoulders and began spreading down his torso and up his neck.

  “THIS ISN’T REAL!” Depweg screamed on the precipice of utter panic.

  The chittering was becoming near deafening as his entire body tingled with the insistent writhing of the arachnids.

  Then the feeling was gone as hurried footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Depweg shot his eyes down to his hands and turned them over and over again in front of him, not trusting that the spiders were actually gone.

  “Three years,” a whisper tickled the inside of Depweg’s sensitive ears, causing the giant to pivot all around, searching for his oppressor.

  “Depweg?” Taylor asked from behind, stepping into the room with a confused expression.

  “Ulric. Ulric was here!” the wolf growled, yellow eyes still scanning the room while his ears flicked all around. His hands constantly roamed over his body in search of spiders that were no longer there.

  To his credit, Taylor took in the information and acted quickly and efficiently.

  “Orsid,” the king of Faerie called out behind him. Within a few moments, a squat, heavily muscled, red-haired dwarf came into the room. He eyed the massive wolf from under a thick, furrowed brow. There were reflective metal pieces covered in runes in his beard, mustache, and even his eyebrows. They created distinct patterns in the ample red hair of the dwarf.

  “We have had an intruder of hellion origins. Please see to it that the defensive wards are updated and reinforced around the castle.”

  “Hellion?” the dwarf grumbled in a Scottish accent. “We ha’ never been attacked by no hell beast before!” the dwarf glared at Depweg with a retrained fury hidden within his eyes, like a small campfire illuminating a large cavern.

  “Which is why we are to reevaluate our defenses, Orsid.” There was a palpable authority to Taylor’s voice that was not to be denied.

  “Aye, sire,” Orsid said in answer as he bowed slightly and began making his way back down the hall.

  “Now, Depweg, would you mind calming yourself so you might be better able to inform me of everything that was said?”

  Depweg turned his massive body to stare down at King TalGoid, and after a few tense heartbeats, nodded his head, wrestling control back from the feral beast inside his mind.

  Though the man and monster had become better adapted to one another, the wolf didn’t want to give up control, his rage still fueled by the mention of his dead packmates.

  Don’t worry, Depweg reassured the hulking wolf inside his mind, we’ll get the bastard.

  A few more tense moments passed, and the wolf seemed to deflate as he gave up control to the man who promised him revenge.

  Depweg began the painful transformation back into his man-suit as Taylor collected his clothing off the ground, eyeing the broken table with a sigh.

  Once a man again, Depweg couldn’t help but explore his naked body for any sign of spider bites, shuddering as he tried to dismiss the feeling of having thousands of arachnids crawling all over his flesh.

  Satisfied that he was uninjured, the were dressed in silence, collecting his thoughts and playing back his interaction with Ulric over and over again in an attempt to decipher his words. The mention of Joey and Dawson kept pushing to the front of his thoughts, demanding attention from the once pack leader.

  Though it had been two years since Depweg had lost the last of his pack, the pain remained as fresh as a festering wound that refused to heal. Some portion of the man didn’t want the wound to heal, either. He felt as if he deserved to bask in the agony of remembrance, being seared by the memory of his greatest failures.

  Taylor stood stoically, awaiting the mental Chernobyl to reach its half-life and return Depweg’s mind to normality. Seeing this helped push the were closer to the finish line, like taking a secret path in a racing video game.

  “I’m...I’m sorry about your table.”

  “It is but an object. What I am most concerned with is what caused you to lose control and destroy the portion of table. I thought we had made such progress over the last two years.” Taylor’s words stung, but what really hurt was the disappointment evident in his voice.

  “Ulric...used my greatest regret against me.”

  “Dawson and Joey,” Taylor said coldly, intentionally testing the were.

  Depweg caught on and simply nodded.

  “Perhaps it is best if you tell me everything.”

  After Depweg played back the story moment for moment—not leaving out any details—Taylor seemed to consider.

  “Curious.”

  “Which part?” Depweg asked, still stuck on Joey and Dawson. To the pack leader, trying to move past the part where Ulric had mentioned his fallen pack was like trying to clean up diarrhea from a shag carpet using only a cheap dishcloth; no matter how much you scrubbed, the shit only smeared, infecting more of the rug. Even the unnerving sensation of spiders inspecting his flesh took a back seat to how important his pack had been to him.

  At that moment, Depweg felt the only way to erase the immense failure and loss of life from his mind...was with a bullet.

  “I do not like what was said about freeing you from the chains that bind in three years.”

  “In less than three years,” Depweg corrected.

  “Right,” Taylor said as he stroked his chin, deep in thought.

  After a few heartbeats of watching Taylor trying to decipher the words, Depweg interjected, “It’s better not to put too much meaning into the words of Satan. His message was purposefully vague.”

  “I fear I must agree with you,” Taylor said, dropping his hand from his face and looking at the were with an unreadable expression. “Will you give me the afternoon to think?”

  “Of...course?” Depweg answered, confusion tilting his head as he spoke.

  “Thank you. We will speak again this evening,” Taylor announced before turning to head into the depths of the castle.

  “Three years,” Depweg muttered to himself before the image of Ulric’s hand punching through Joey’s chest and holding his heart shot to the forefront of his mind like a gun flash in the dark.

  A single tear escaped, tentatively sliding down his face to fight with
the neatly trimmed beard, like trenches on a battlefield. Then it was free, falling from his chin to splash onto the cold stone floor at the were’s feet.

  Having completed the initial scouting mission, the remaining platoon of tears followed the lubricated path of the first and stormed the fronts while the other eye trailed just behind.

  15

  John - Germany

  As the light of a setting sun passed over me, the uncomfortable and sudden feeling of weightlessness took hold of my insides, and I plummeted into a large body of water.

  Once my feet hit the bottom and my mind rebooted, I leaped through the water to explode from the surface of the pool and land on the concrete next to the rental house.

  Warden Broadway stood close by with her cell phone open and the familiar record icon showing through her hologram screen. In her other hand was a fluffy robe. The same fluffy robe I had maybe left on the bathroom floor at the previous house.

  “I made sure it was still damp for you, just like you like it, big boy,” Hayley said from between a predatory smile that stretched from ear to ear.

  I stood for a moment, eyeing the wizard, and blurred forward. I stopped just inches from where she stood, and then shot backward a few steps, effectively slinging most of the water from my body with the sudden change in inertia.

  As planned, Hayley was coated in a sheet of water, dropping her smile in an instant.

  “No, thanks. Don’t need a robe,” I boasted, making a show of checking up and down my body where only a few drops of water remained.

  An emergency alarm blared in my mind as my eyes shot up to Hayley’s, and I watched in horror as my favorite robe burst into flames.

  “Mr. Robey! NO!!!!!” I called out while dropping to my knees and holding my hands up. “How is it burning so easily?! I thought it was damp!”

  “Want me to show you?” Hayley pushed out the words from between clenched teeth.

  “Um...no, thank you?” I said with a placating smile that probably showed more fear than anything.

  “Smart...choice...”