Shadow of a Doubt Page 18

  “Open it,” Oberon commanded tersely.

  As if handling a ticking bomb, I undid the latches on the top, allowing me to lift the lid. Inside was the beginning of the end.

  The fingers of a pearl white gauntlet etched in gold stuck out as if awaiting a handshake. Oberon smiled and dropped Locke to the ground, who gulped in long lungfuls of air intermixed with fits of coughing.

  Oberon placed his helmet back on his head, reached into the box, grasped the gauntlet, and pulled it out. He wiggled his naked fingers and slipped them into the armor, which clicked into place over his forearm. As he finished, the red etching of the whole armor glowed bright, and Oberon gasped in elation as the celestial armor, forged in Heaven above, was complete again. I watched in horrid fascination as the gauntlet began to bleed from white to black as red snaked along the edges, swallowing the gold.

  Oberon did something then that scared the shit out of me; he began cackling like a madman as his wide eyes looked at his identically armored hands. Oberon pulled his gladius out of its scabbard, and it ignited in a blaze of heavenfire along its length. His cackling crescendoed into a full-bellied maniacal laughter that reverberated against the walls. Black shadow flames began dancing with the white, red, and blue of the heavenfire, adding the energy of the Shadow Court to the celestial power.

  The Shadow King Oberon abruptly stopped laughing, as if remembering something, and looked at me with an evil smile. As his grin spread, his head tilted downward while keeping his eyes locked on me until his eyebrows threatened to block his vision off.

  “Hey! You gave us your word!”

  Oberon spoke in a way that made my stomach clench, his voice low and methodical, “I intend to keep my word, foolish vampire. But know this; this world will bathe in the dark, and your human cattle will perish before you starve. Tell me, mosquito, how long can you go without blood? A year? A decade? Perhaps it will take a century for you to wither and die, going insane from the thirst before you perish.” Oberon raised his face toward the ceiling, looking down his nose at me before he continued, “Do you see why I intend to keep my word? I want to witness the last vampire losing his mind from hunger before making a chandelier out of your bones.” He let his eyes go unfocused as he stroked his chin in thought. “I think I’ll place it above my throne so I can gaze upon you at my leisure. Mmm, yes. Ta-ta.”

  He then folded in on himself, leaving a shock wave that exploded all the glass in the living room, including my Lilith-damned Battlefield Earth collectable cups.

  “Dude is artistic when it comes to bones, I’ll give him that,” I said to myself as my guts unclenched. We were safe…for now.

  Locke caught my attention and I rushed to where he was dry heaving with bulging eyes.

  “What can I do?” I asked, worried.

  “In my room…” Locke trailed off. I grabbed hold of his slender arm near the shoulder and lifted him to his feet. We walked to his room, where he pointed to his desk. On it sat a wooden box with a glass cover displaying different stones in red velvet. He uttered a few words under his breath, and the box popped open with a hiss. Locke grabbed for a purple cluster, held it in his hand, and slammed the whole thing into his chest.

  It burst in a small explosion of purple smoke which swirled around him until it found his face. The smoke snaked its way into every hole in his head, including his eyes, as Locke screamed bloody murder at the top of his lungs.

  I stepped back in terror as I watched the events unfold. I had never seen anything like it before.

  I was vaguely aware that the pieces of stone that fell to the ground were now green instead of purple.

  Within a few moments, Locke stood up straight, whispered some words, and closed the glass case again.

  “What the hell was that?” I asked in awe.

  “A soul stone,” Locke said, rejuvenated.

  “A s-soul stone? Whose soul?” I asked, perplexed.

  “Is that what we are really going to discuss now? Oberon has what he came for,” he barked. “We need to seek council.”

  “Agreed. But first, we need to go get Depweg and the twins.”

  “I don’t know if we have time for that.”

  “And I didn’t ask, did I?” I cried out, surprising even myself. “Look, we are going to need their help. Can we agree that having three werewolves would be helpful?”

  “Do you even know where they are?” Locke asked.

  “Yes, I do. Now, let’s go fucking get them, and then we can stop by Val’s for some…supplies,” I said with a wry smile.

  15

  We walked through the kitchen and to the front door. I stopped by my cabinet and sighed heavily at the broken cups. Picking up a piece of glass, I looked at John Travolta’s disappointed face and dropped the piece on the black countertop. Forest Whitaker gave me the stink eye from his place on the bottommost shelf; but that was to be expected.

  Making our way up the stairs with Locke behind me, I asked over my shoulder, “What did you make of what he said?”

  “Which part? It all sucked.”

  I pursed my lips while tilting my head before nodding in agreement, my eyebrows shooting up for a moment.

  “I meant the part at the end, where I was going to starve.”

  “I wasn’t really in the right mind while that was going on. He had nearly crushed my windpipe.”

  “So a soul stone healed you?” I asked.

  “What did he say about you starving?” Locke asked, shrugging off my probing question.

  “He said he was going to cast the world into darkness and that I would starve.”

  “That doesn’t make a lot of sense. If he doesn’t kill you, how can he start Armageddon?”

  I shrugged in answer, a cold feeling making its way up my spine. He was going to watch me starve to death over decades, maybe even a century. I was incredibly thirsty at that moment, like how an alcoholic eyed the glass container on the store shelf just as the shakes began to manifest. My tongue glided over my dry lips subconsciously.

  We made our way to the mausoleum, where Locke took in the damage Oberon had wrought. He shook his head as we walked outside. I picked the marble door off the floor and set it in place as we stepped outside. I wound up having to lean it against the entrance, but was confident no mortal would be able to move it.

  Locke and I made our way to the parking lot where a sleek Tesla coupé awaited. It was gunmetal gray and looked like it was more related to a Lamborghini than to the Teslas I remembered. Had to remind myself that I had lost a decade in the blink of an eye when Lily and I had shifted planes to Faerie.

  My teeth ground together subconsciously as I thought about her betrayal.

  “Everything okay?” Locke asked hesitantly as we got into his clearly expensive vehicle.

  “Hmm? Oh, not really,” I said as Locke sat in silence, waiting for me to continue. “I don’t know what Lily is aiming for, man.”

  “What do you mean?” Locke asked while pressing the ignition button. The only indication that the fully electric Tesla had turned on was a speaker system just outside the cabin that produced a powerful revving sound.

  With ease, I typed in the destination I had watched Ludvig put into his van’s GPS and hit start.

  “I can’t figure her out, dude. Like, what is her endgame with me? She says she is trying to help me, but then goes and costs me a decade. Lilith damn it, I bet she is responsible for that Lolth creature attacking me.”

  “Lolth? Did you say…Lolth?” Locke blurted out as he shot his head toward me, focusing on that one tidbit from my lamentations.

  “That’s what Omega Oberon said, at least.”

  “Oh, Christ,” Locke breathed, shaking his head slightly and returning his eyes to the road.

  “What?”

  “Lolth…where do I begin…” he started, searching for the right words. “She is the goddess of the drow elves.”

  “What the fuck is this, Dungeons and Dragons? Who are the drow elves?”

  I
took note that the road we were traveling down, which used to be littered with ramshackle businesses, now was lined by massive warehouses. The roads had also been paved over with sleek, black asphalt. All streetlights were made of LEDs—the bulb of the future.

  “The drow are a race of dark elves that are Faerie’s version of demons. They live in darkness and want the destruction of the light.”

  “Alrighty then. So where does this Lolth bitch come in?”

  “She is one of their gods. Books have been written about the drow pantheon, but few know the truth. What I can extrapolate from the few mentions of Lolth in my library, she is something to be truly feared.”

  “Neat! Super helpful!” I said in dramatic annoyance. “How do we stop them?”

  “I’m afraid I haven’t the first clue.”

  We pulled onto 288 heading toward Lake Jackson. I was impressed at how futuristic the cars on the road had become. A white truck with FORD lit up across the grill in color-changing lights zoomed by, the taillights a solid thin red line that were almost as bright as the bluish headlights. I lifted my hand to shield my eyes when the windshield darkened slightly, giving the light shining through a green tinge that didn’t hurt my light-sensitive eyes. I lowered my hand as an idea struck.

  “Light,” I said absently.

  “Come again?”

  “I haven’t even cum once, you greedy perv.” Locke turned his head slowly to regard me with an expressionless face.

  Sighing, I exclaimed, “Sorry. Anyway, light is a weapon against the Shadow Court.”

  “Except for King Oberon, who is of the Fae High Courts.”

  “Right, but he has adopted his gift much like I did with Ulric in that dungeon. Just because I was once mortal and still have human DNA, that doesn’t protect me from my vampiric weaknesses.”

  “Are you saying a flashlight can take down the Faerie king?” Locke asked dubiously.

  “Well, no. But I’m willing to bet dollars to blood that sunlight will fuck his shit right up,” I said with growing excitement. I turned to face Locke, barely able to contain my delight. “What do you wanna bet that he hasn’t figured out how vulnerable he is in the light? I mean, he knows its uncomfortable or whatever, but he probably thinks he’s all but impervious now.”

  “Especially with the celestial armor.”

  “Yeah. S.O.B. has the whole set now, but maybe we can use that confidence.”

  “That’s…not a bad idea at all, actually,” Locke said while stroking his chin in thought.

  “What? You’re surprised I can come up with a plan?” I said, putting emphasis on the last word.

  “You’ve reached your catchphrase limit, John.”

  We passed by an H-E-B and I pointed so quickly across Locke’s body that he almost lost control of the car in his surprise.

  “Stop there. I have a feeling we are going to need some stuff.”

  “Want to warn me next time, bud?” Locke exhaled, taking the exit to the grocery store.

  “More fun this way.”

  We parked and made our way inside. Locke’s battle armor had disappeared, leaving behind street clothes.

  “Um, are acid-washed jeans back in?” I asked, looking at his pants. Above them was a multicolored windbreaker straight out of a Marky Mark music video.

  “Unfortunately,” Locke said, zipping his jacket up. There was a noticeable coolness in the air.

  As we walked into the store, we were blasted by warm air and bright lights. The smell of baked breads and sugary desserts wafted through the air as we walked through the bakery section.

  “After you,” Locke said, waving his hand in front of him.

  We walked toward the camping section, and I noticed the store was full of people even at this hour. They walked from aisle to aisle, periodically glancing at their hands. Around their wrists was a band of varying colors that projected a screen whenever the wearer made an L shape with their thumb and forefinger. Once their fingers were closed again, the screen disappeared.

  “Neat! I want one,” I said to Locke, pointing at a random patron’s wrist. They eyeballed me, unsure of what to say as Locke and I continued past.

  “Is that what you came here for? A new phone?”

  “No, we came for…” I started as my eyes searched and then locked onto propane camping lanterns. “This!” I found the biggest one that promised the brightest light and grabbed all they had on the shelf, handing some to Locke to carry. I also pocketed some flashlights that projected a beam that could be seen from space, according to the bold letters on the package. Lastly, I grabbed a box containing glow sticks that you snapped and shook to create light.

  Passersby took sidelong glances toward me, and I stopped to examine myself. My trench was missing the sleeve below and elbow and the back was sliced up from road rash. The shirt underneath was burned and I was quite sure I looked like a vagrant.

  We were making our way to the front of the store when I passed by a rack of clearance clothing. I picked up the only men’s black shirt they had and inspected the tag.

  “Double XL. We are in business,” I said as I draped the shirt over my shoulder. At least my burned shirt would be taken care of. I dared not replace the coat—that was nearly a century old—with something off the rack.

  I yawned as we stood in line. Locke turned to look up at me—because I was over a full head taller than him in his young body—and scrunched his brow.

  “Can’t remember the last time I saw you yawn unironically.”

  He was right. I still hadn’t replenished all my reserves from creating the giant ball of plasma. “Yeah, I took a cue from your book of spells and made a giant ball of death that burned a shadow army to a crisp. Took everything I had and more.”

  “Plasma?” Locke asked, interested.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why didn’t you just create light?”

  “Because I…didn’t think of it?” I admitted. “What do you mean?”

  The cashier scanned our plethora of light-emitting products, not even caring enough to look up at us minus the initial, “Hello.”

  “Plasma is caused by one of many scenarios. How did you make it?”

  “I poured raw energy into a sphere that expanded the more of my power I put into it. Once started, I couldn’t stop until we were in the clear; but at least all those shadow bastards were incinerated by the light.”

  “You created pure plasma by superheating the air with your energy?” Locke asked as he finished paying by placing his phone wrist against the terminal. We grabbed our bags and walked toward the exit.

  “Sounds about right,” I confirmed. “I didn’t know of any other way to do it.”

  “That’s where you messed up. Whenever I created my plasma attacks, I did it by means of fission. I split the nucleus of a single atom and contained the resulting plasma in an orb of electromagnetism. That is actually the hardest part—containing the exothermic explosion and not destroying an entire city.”

  “So, if I understand this right, all I had to do was split a single atom to get the same effect?”

  Locke’s eyes grew wide and he became full of energy as he said, “Wait, wait, wait. Don’t even think to try it, John. I practiced in a timeless void until I could get control over the entire process. If you try and create fission without the fail-safes, you could potentially destroy all of south Texas.”

  “Hmm,” I responded as we set our bags in the trunk of the Tesla. I removed my coat and tore off the remains of my battle-worn shirt before putting on the new one.

  “I’m serious!” Locke cried out, barely able to control the urgency growing in his voice. “I know you are able to excite molecules, as well as a few other party tricks, but that is a short step and a hop away from pulling an atom apart. If you are going to try, let me put you in a void first. Just please be careful. You have no idea of the powers you are contemplating.”

  “The moral of the story is I used too much energy on a simple attack,” I said, changing the subject
. It was best I didn’t dwell on something as potentially catastrophic as fission, especially after being told not to. Telling me not to do something usually had the opposite effect.

  “Right. You could have simply used the energy to create just light instead of the superheated plasma.”

  I rubbed my hand as Locke said this, remembering how the small plasma ball had not only destroyed my flesh but prevented me from healing for a bit.

  I replaced my trench coat and walked to the passenger side of the car. We got in and he pushed the ignition button.

  “Is there a reason plasma would prevent supernatural healing?”

  “I suppose, yes.”

  “How?”

  “Off the top of my head, the only thing I can think of is that the plasma could destroy every cell so completely that there would be nothing left to heal, as it were. Similar to a tree that has been burned in a quick fire or one that has been scorched from the outside in, all the way to the core. In one instance, the tree would be able to eventually heal and grow healthy again. In the other, the essence would be burned to its core, leaving behind charcoal instead of wood.”

  “I was thinking something similar,” I said, rubbing my wrist. “Hmm.”

  “What?”

  “I think it’s interesting that I can, say, heal the burnt flesh of a mortal or even grow an entire new body using my energy, but I can’t heal from things like plasma, iron, silver, or the sun. The list just keeps growing.” I finished by letting the back of my head hit the headrest and sighing.

  “Something I find odd,” Locke said, “when I created the fission balls, UV radiation was produced as a result. Yet you weren’t affected at all.”

  “Yeah, I haven’t totally figured out exactly how the sun burns me.” An idea struck me then. “I wonder if I can use my tanning membership?”