Those Wonderful Toys: Preternatural Chronicles Book 7 (The Preternatural Chronicles) Page 19

  Fingers began to tremble as his heart pounded in his ears. He must have swallowed an entire clothing store’s worth of cotton, because his tongue was dry and alien in his mouth. The back of his throat had been replaced with sharp gravel that made him wince as he tried to gulp.

  John flashed in his mind, making a stupid face as he let Tim kiss his nose in slow motion. Ludvig was standing just behind with a mouth full of meat, trying not to laugh. Hayley stood by his side, staring up at her husband with adoration and love in her eyes, a hand resting on her belly.

  “The wolf is already in Germany. They will all die without your help.”

  “Depweg...” Locke breathed, and shoved his fingers into his eye socket.

  The pain was excruciating, and Locke had to focus on the faces of his friends to keep from passing out. However, screaming couldn’t be helped as the fingers pushed further and further around the wet orb. His trimmed fingernails managed to cut at the soft skin of the socket, filling half of his vision with darkness as the blood began to flow, but at the same time, helping lubricate the digits that were almost in place.

  Feeling his skull, Locke squeezed his fingers together in a clamp, took in a deep breath, and bellowed as he yanked his hand out.

  There was a pop that sounded like a gunshot to Locke, and the man nearly passed out. His free hand smacked the table, and he fought with all his might to stay conscious as his right eye looked at the warm, gooey mass inside his grip.

  It felt alien in his hand, as if it hadn’t been with him his entire life...both times. Turning it over, he locked gazes with his own freed pupil, and a sloshing wave of nausea almost made Locke puke.

  It took him several seconds to collect himself before Locke remembered what he was here to do; save his friends. Looking up, he lifted his chin toward Lachesis, who only stared with an expressionless face.

  “Throw it in the pot.”

  Locke could feel warm blood trickling down his cheek, and he was briefly intrigued that there wasn’t a much more violent flow. Some of it had also pooled in his socket, moving when he turned his face to look at the pot, which felt weeeeeiiiirrd.

  Lachesis pulled a handkerchief from her long dress and handed it to Locke.

  Grabbing it with his free hand, Locke gently stuffed the old fabric into his socket to help staunch the light flow of blood, as well as soak up what was already pooled.

  Looking back down at the pot, Locke positioned his hand over the simmering water and felt an odd sensation, as if he couldn’t feel when he was directly over his target.

  “You’ve lost your depth perception, but will grow accustomed, in time.”

  Locke’s eye flicked to Lachesis for a moment before dropping back to the pot. Concentrating, he decided the hand was properly over the water, judging by the heat it gave off, and dropped his own detached eyeball into the unknown liquid.

  Oddly enough, it didn’t float like he was anticipating. Instead, it disappeared below the surface, which had begun to boil again. Different colors of the rainbow began to bubble up, hissing beautiful wisps of smoke into the air.

  “What...what is it?” Locke asked, no longer feeling the dull burn where his eye had just been inside his skull.

  “There is a river...that runs through a tree. It is here where the father of the one you call Ludvig learned the knowledge he sought.”

  Looking back down at the pot with new reverence, Locke cleared his throat as he remembered the old story.

  “I’m to drink this, then?”

  Lachesis didn’t respond, giving Locke the answer he was expecting.

  Picking up the pot, Locke stared at the bubbling liquid, and brought the metal up to his mouth.

  He was expecting it to burn, but instead was whisked away from his body and flooded with colorful images in seemingly chaotic patterns.

  Then he was standing in a field, with a gentle breeze blowing across his skin. The sound of water pulled at his focus, and Locke instinctively followed the noise. A large tree stood tall and proud. At the base was a rectangle of fresh dirt.

  He was confused when he noticed his depth perception was back and reached up with an exploratory hand to feel that both eyes were in place, at least in the dream.

  “Hello, Locke,” a strong, familiar voice said from behind.

  Turning, Locke saw Ludvig staring down at the dirt with a sullen expression on his face.

  “He-hey, Ludvig. Or, ah, do I call you Thor?”

  “Ludvig is fine,” he said with an upturn of one of the corners of his lips.

  “Why, um...why didn’t you tell us?”

  “Because I wasn’t Thor any longer. When I fled from my enemy, I became unworfy and lost much of my power.”

  Locke knew that he had meant unworthy. Odd, though, that he could say the “th” in Thor just fine.

  “And then, when you picked up the hammer to save Hayley and John...”

  “My power returned, and I was Thor once again. In so doing, I called out to de one being dat could defeat me...and he answered.” Ludvig’s enormous hand rested atop the middle of his chest just over his heart, as if sensing the killing blow that had entered from behind.

  “Satan...” Locke breathed out as his gaze dropped back to the fresh dirt. From the corner of his vision, he could see Ludvig nodding absently. “Can...can I ask...why you did it? Picked up the hammer, I mean.” Locke already knew the answer from Lachesis but couldn’t help himself, as if the fact wasn’t true unless Ludvig said it himself.

  “Hayley lives. Dat’s all dat matters.”

  Locke didn’t respond or even breathe, and Ludvig slowly glanced over to him.

  “You already know, don’t you.” It was more of a statement rather than an actual question.

  Locke nodded in affirmation. While his eyes were looking at the dirt, his focus was on his peripheral vision, making sure he didn’t offend his friend with his knowledge.

  “Who?”

  “A seer. Lachesis.”

  “Dat means Satan probably knew...which means...Ulric...knew. Dat’s why he went for Hayley and gave me no choice but to pick up Mjolnir.” Ludvig’s head dropped in shame at the realization that he had been manipulated.

  Locke could feel the ache in his own heart melding with the hatred that had already metastasized for Ulric. It was a dark, warm feeling that felt like his chest was trying to implode in on itself.

  Ludvig turned to his friend and grabbed him by the shoulders.

  “Locke, de Christian Devil is slaying gods of all panfeons and taking dere power for himself.”

  “How is he doing that?”

  “Mortals give gods power wif dere belief. Wifout de gods, Satan is funneling de energy into himself.”

  “Why? Besides the obvious, I mean.”

  “I don’t know, but if I had to guess, I would wager it has somefing to do wif attacking de Christian Heaven.”

  “That...that stands to reason.”

  The pair stared at the fresh dirt on the ground. The wind gently glided across their faces, bringing the fresh scent of Asgard with it.

  “What happens to you, um, now?” Locke dared to ask, gulping as the weight of the question filled the silence between them.

  “Now?” Ludvig began as he turned to face behind them. Locke followed suit and had his attention snatched by the oddest thing; a door was standing open in the middle of the field. Beyond the threshold, Locke could see a great stone hall with a hefty wooden table spanning further than Locke could see. “Now, I don’t know what happens. My family is dead, and de great halls of Valhalla are empty.” As he spoke, Ludvig started becoming transparent.

  The Norse god noticed Locke eyeing his frame, and Ludvig looked down at his hands, turning them over in front of him before shifting to his torso.

  “I guess I’m going to find out what happens now.”

  A single tear left Ludvig’s eye as he looked up to face Locke.

  “I have already asked John to watch over Hayley, because he’s de only one dat ca
n stand up to her stubbornness. But can you watch over our child, Locke? I fink she will become a powerful wizard one day, and after you put your life on de line when you gave up your warlock powers because you didn’t want to turn on your friends, I trust you.”

  Locke was rocked back by the sheer magnitude of the question. The pained expression on Ludvig’s face brought him out of his daze.

  “Of course. I will do everything in my power to protect your baby.” He repeated the Norse god’s words in his head, and then clarified, “So you already know it’s a girl then?”

  “Hmm?” Ludvig responded.

  “You said she will become a powerful wizard one day.”

  Ludvig brought his finger up to his lips in a “shh” gesture.

  Locke decided to let it go, but something else bothered him. He debated on asking his friend a personal question he knew wasn’t any of his business.

  “What is it?” Ludvig asked, sensing his hesitation.

  “What about, um, Magni?” Locke inquired with a great degree of sensitivity in his voice. “Aren’t you worried about him? I mean, you asked John to watch over Hayley—good choice, by the by; I’m totally terrified of her wrath—and you asked me to watch over your daughter. What about Magni?”

  Ludvig bared a huge smile as he stared off into the distance at nothing in particular.

  “Magni doesn’t need me anymore. He is a man, now, and will do great fings.”

  Locke smiled in return, feeling the pride emanating off the big man.

  “Oh. I am to give you a gift on behalf of Yggdrasil.”

  “What is—” Locke started to ask before Ludvig suddenly placed a hand on his forehead, nearly encompassing his entire skull in the incredibly large hand.

  White light blinded the man, forcing him to squeeze his eyes shut, but to no avail. The light permeated through his mind, bringing with it a knowledge that stole his breath. Locke had felt this before when Hayley had placed the stone in his hand and shown him what it was to be a wizard.

  Years seemed to pass. Locke’s head was on the verge of splitting open, judging from the indescribable pain radiating between his temples. Words tried to form but slipped out as incoherent blather.

  Heavy eyelids fluttered open, revealing blurry branches that danced in the breeze, with the sun sneaking through from time to time.

  Pushing himself up onto numb elbows, Locke surveyed his surroundings, trying to remember where he was. So much time had passed that his memory of recent events was like trying to look at a photo album from twenty feet away. He knew he was looking at images, but nothing registered.

  An old, dried out sponge had replaced his tongue, and Locke rolled over to his stomach before slowly making his way to the stream on hands and knees.

  The water was so clear as to almost be imperceptible, but the steady sound of the stream was impossible to miss.

  Reaching the bank, Locke cupped a hand and scooped up maybe an ounce of the liquid, bringing it to his eager mouth.

  The water was cold and near tasteless, but refreshing to a degree never before imagined.

  His tongue was no longer alien inside his mouth. The hot gravel at the back of his throat smoothed to silk. And the memories came rushing back like a watermelon dropped from an air balloon to smash into concrete.

  The ground smacked into Locke’s back, followed by the sky filling his vision again. The world was shaking, and it took him several unsure moments to understand that he was having some sort of seizure as his memories ricocheted throughout his mind to find their homes once more. Only one teeny tiny problem; there was a host of new memories that spanned a few years with no original home to call their own. So they forged new ones.

  Locke convulsed for what felt like an eternity while the last of the new memories were painfully secured in place. Then he was left alone, unmoving, as his eyes stared at the unfocused clouds in the blue sky.

  A thought tapped on the shoulder of Locke’s consciousness and introduced itself as the means to saving his friends.

  Locke got to his feet, flexed his hands open and closed, and let a smile stretch his face.

  22

  Magni - Faerie

  “Is there anything I can get you?” Ghle asked, stroking Magni’s hair as he rested his head in her lap. The muscles of his tear ducts hurt from crying so much, and he briefly debated on attempting to heal them, but decided he wanted to feel the pain.

  “Can you get me some water, please,” Magni croaked with a throat sore from soul-wrenching wails.

  “Okay,” Ghle said as she leaned down and kissed his forehead.

  Magni lifted himself into a seated position so Ghle could get up. She left the room, giving him one last mournful look before leaving him alone with his thoughts.

  Not wanting to be around anyone at that moment, Magni stood up and walked out of his room with the speed of a rotting zombie. His feet shuffled, unable to muster the strength to fully lift them off the ground, as he thought about the man whom he had secretly called Father.

  Anger laced with pain welled from inside at the realization that he had never called him Father or even Dad in public. Magni knew deep down that it was because Ludvig preferred the title of Master, but right then, the desire to mourn Ludvig made Magni ignore that little detail, instead wallowing in the fact that he had never called him three simple letters: d-a-d. Grief didn’t need to make sense, and it didn’t need you to understand the wonder of its ways. It simply was. Chaotic and unrelenting.

  Before he knew it, Magni was outside the castle and heading toward the door that led to the lush fields beyond.

  Even though he had been in Faerie for two years, it was still amazing to Magni that the door somehow led from the castle, which was high up in the clouds, to the forest floor below. However, at that moment, he didn’t care, and actually dared the door not to function as intended so he could have a reason to destroy something with the grief and rage that bubbled inside his heart.

  The door, perhaps sensing Magni’s volatility, acted as normal and opened to the field the young man was expecting to see.

  A fresh breeze washed over Magni, and he closed his eyes as he took in a long breath, letting the living scents of Faerie glide up his nostrils.

  The sun was warm and seemed to convey that everything would be okay. That it would continue to rise and set every day, no matter what. It promised to always be there for the young man whose heart ached for yet another parent that had been taken away.

  He had been young when his birth father had died, and only seemed to recollect fragments of being in a hospital as a man in a white coat told his mom that there was nothing else they could do. His mom had broken down into sobs that had confused the young boy whose name had been Collin back then.

  The next memory was of being at home with a lot of people dressed in black clothes trying to comfort his mom, who only cried on the couch, a soaked tissue clutched in her hand. He remembered thinking how weird it was that people brought all kinds of food covered in foil while standing in groups and occasionally glancing at his mom with sad expressions that wordlessly conveyed, better you than me.

  The last memory he had of his mother was of going to the cemetery on his dad’s birthday...and meeting John.

  Magni continued to walk toward the edge of the forest, letting his fingers be tickled by the long strands of grass that danced in the wind.

  Da came to mind; how he had provided comfort when the boy needed someone the most. Oh, how he wished he could talk to him now. Just one more time.

  Fresh tears began to flow as the memory of another lost loved one piled on top of the others, weighing on his heart to the point he thought it might stop beating under the pressure. He didn’t mind if it did. At least the pain would stop, and he could be with his family in Heaven.

  The scene of Ludvig first coming to meet the boy played next.

  Ludvig was big, bigger than almost any person the boy had ever seen. But he had a smile that felt genuine, warm, and disarming.
<
br />   The big man had heard about how the boy had lost his entire family, and Ludvig shared with him about how he had lost his family too.

  The pair embraced, and for the first time in a long time, the young boy felt safe.

  After figuring out that there were monsters under your bed, Ludvig had provided the night-light that kept them at bay.

  When Magni was only a few steps away from entering the thick tree line, Ruak came running out while looking behind him, crashing into Magni and sending the pair to the ground.

  Magni didn’t feel any pain, though he knew it had probably hurt to be tackled. All of his nerves seemed deadened at that moment.

  “Magni?” Ruak asked as he scrambled back to his feet, out of breath. “S-sorry about that.”

  The troll extended his hand, and Magni eventually took it, letting himself be helped back up.

  Magni stared into the nervous eyes of the troll, and knew he was supposed to ask, “What are you running from?” but he just didn’t care right then.

  “Have you seen Ghle?” Ruak asked. When Magni continued to stare at him with an expressionless face, the nervous troll elaborated, “I have something I need to show her.”

  With an arm that felt numb, Magni thumbed over his shoulder toward the castle. The young man wanted to be alone, and Ruak was providing the perfect opportunity to distract the attentive Ghle.

  “Th-thanks!” Ruak said with building excitement before taking off toward the door Magni had left open.

  Uncaring, Magni continued aimlessly walking into the forest, the tears beginning to well again.

  23

  Depweg - Germany

  Depweg was greeted by a scene from a war movie. Modern houses were in ruins, with blackened marks littering the ground all around. Taking a guess, Depweg assumed them to be lightning strikes.