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  “Forgot about you, boy!” I exclaimed to Tim in a cute voice.

  “Really? That was quick,” Collin said in a joking tone, reminding me I was still on the call.

  “Ti-Tiny Tim. My puppy,” I lamely responded.

  “I figured it was something like that,” Collin said with a smile in his voice. After a brief pause, he asked, “How are you holding up?”

  Without even thinking about the answer, my mouth blurted, “Fucking train wreck, man. Chest is tight. My skin feels funny. If I had a heartbeat, it would be pounding like a machine gun.”

  “Ah, yes. Anxiety. Good to know it’s not limited to only humans.”

  “I mean, I guess. Doesn’t feel like a good thing.”

  “It’s good to acknowledge it, at least. First step to gaining control.”

  His words tickled my brain, and I realized he was right. Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath, counted to three, and let it out as I forced the tightness in my chest to subside.

  “Put on a good movie and let’s touch base after the mission is over. Are you going to be able to stay awake, or should I call you after dusk?”

  “There’s no freaking way I can go to sleep, man. I have a radio here and plan to listen in.”

  “Just don’t call out to them while they are on the mission.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I know. Already taken care of.”

  “Well, color me impressed. I didn’t think you’d be able to resist commentating on the situation.”

  A weak smile lifted the corners of my lips as I shook my head at the thought of Depweg putting my radio in listen-only mode. I didn’t bother to correct Collin.

  “Alright, man. Call me back after the mission is over. I’ll be up.”

  “You bet. Try to relax until then,” Collin said before my phone beeped three times, indicating he had hung up.

  My hand stroked Tim, who was beginning to rouse.

  “Is it breakfast time, little buddy? Ya hungry?”

  Tim yipped through a yawn in confirmation, slowly starting to wag his little tail in excitement.

  I stood up, setting my sealed blood bag on the coffee table as I no longer had an appetite, and walked to the kitchen.

  My hands pulled on cabinet doors at random, looking for the puppy chow. Not finding any, I went to the fridge and found several canisters of high-end wet dog food on the shelf.

  “Why does it have to be kept cold?” I asked Tim, who was posting on his rear paws with his front ones on my leg. “Want me to warm it up?”

  Tim yipped again, and I removed the pull tab of the container, tossing it in the trash.

  Walking to the microwave, I opened the door, set the dog food in the middle, and then closed it up again. Looking at the display, I was at a complete loss on how to operate the machine.

  “Popcorn, no. Soup, hmm, maybe? Defrost, no. I don’t see a dog food option, boy. Hmm, cook time maybe?” I looked down at Tim, who was licking his chops. “How long do I cook it for? An hour?” Tim barked once. “Okay, an hour it is. Let’s see, cook time, um, one, zero-zero, ah, zero. Start. Okay, buddy, it’ll be ready soo—”

  The microwave started popping as arcs of electricity forked to the dog food container.

  “Whoa! Holy shit! What kind of food is this?!” I cried out as I began hopping on one foot and then the other with my fists up to my mouth. “What do I do? Tell me what to do, Tim!”

  Tim barked his answer, a little more aggressively than before.

  Lightning continued to dance as the microwave emitted noises I had never heard it make.

  “Is this normal?!” I frantically asked the dog. He tilted his head at me in response.

  Bringing up my phone with shaky hands, I went to the internet browser and brought up Ask Jeeves.

  “What does it mean when you are warming up dog food in the microwave and lightning bolts begin to strike it and make popping noises that I’m pretty sure it is not supposed to make,” I read aloud as I typed.

  The first link was an ad for a new Samsung microwave.

  “Funny,” I drawled with a scowl before moving down the list.

  “Let’s see, what to do if your microwave starts producing sparks. That one should do.” I clicked the link and it loaded. “What’s this? Please enter email address to become a part of our mailing list. Get coupons and blah, blah, blah. Damn it! Um, what was Locke’s email? Lockeandkey01 at gmail I think. There,” I said to Tim. “Now I can read the article. Let’s see . . . don’t put metal in the microwave. If you do, immediately open the door to sto—”

  The microwave popped much louder this time before going dark. I pressed on the buttons, but nothing happened. Opening the door, I was greeted with a horrific smell and wafting smoke. I quickly closed it and looked down at the confused Tiny Tim.

  “Cold, then?” I asked as I opened the fridge and pulled out another can. Opening the lid, I simply set the food down and watched as Tim devoured it in about thirty seconds.

  Looking back at the probably broken microwave, I brought my phone back up, hit backspace, and then clicked on the ad at the top of the search page.

  Chapter 21

  After ordering the replacement microwave — opting to add the extended warranty — I decided to call Father Thomes.

  It rang several times before the familiar voice of my old friend answered.

  “John?”

  “Hey, Papa T,” I said, my words hinting at the worry I was trying to conceal. “I know it’s late. Just . . . just needed to talk. I didn’t wake you, did I?”

  “I was just drinking my nighttime tea and settling in.”

  I once again thought about how all my friends had adjusted their sleeping schedules based around my forced daily time allowance.

  “What can I do for you, my son?”

  “The whole team is about to engage Ulric’s base in an attempt to get all my stuff back.”

  “I-I see. Is Depweg with them, by any chance?”

  “Yeah. Why do you ask?”

  He answered with silence, and after a few moments, I caught on to his wordless explanation.

  “Ah, shit. You don’t think . . .”

  “That he will try to sacrifice himself to save his friends? I’m afraid that would be characteristic of our dear Depweg.”

  “Fuck,” I barked out between gritted teeth.

  “Bless you,” the priest responded with a hint of levity.

  “How are you so calm? I’m a nervous wreck over here.”

  “It might serve you well to learn how to focus on the things that you can control, and let go of that which you cannot.”

  “How the hell do I do that?”

  “Practice,” Father Thomes said with a smile in his voice. “Do you know what happens when we worry, my son?”

  “I think I know the answer, but go ahead,” I exhaled as my eyes dropped to Tim. I gave him a quick scratch behind the ears. He looked up at me and let his tongue loll out.

  “We suffer twice,” he answered with emphasis. There was no smile in his tone any longer. This was a teachable moment for the priest. “Trust that your friends are prepared for the challenge that they face, and put your faith in God.”

  I shot out a long breath before I admitted, “You’re right, Father. I just need to put on a movie or something.”

  “That is an excellent start. I will say a prayer for our friends. I suggest you do the same.”

  “Alright, Papa T. Thanks for listening. I always feel better after talking to you. Well, mostly,” I jested at the end, forcing humor into my somber mood.

  “Good day, my son. Let me know how everything goes.”

  “Will do. Good day,” I said softly as I pressed the red button.

  After taking a few moments to fruitlessly attempt to let my worry fade, I looked up to the ceiling and mouthed a wordless prayer.

  Chapter 22

  Iwas sitting in my recliner with Tim in my lap, chewing on my finger like a toy. The chair was pivoted toward the paper-thin TV, and I was tryin
g to watch Thor: Love and Thunder, which had come out in my absence. I could tell it was really good, with excellent comedic timing. I just couldn’t get into it for some reason.

  My leg was bouncing up and down while I ran my free hand through my hair.

  A lightsaber sounded, and I lifted my hand away from Tim, wiping my thumb on my shirt to get the puppy drool off.

  I opened my phone and saw a text from Depweg telling me he had met Collin’s team and they had adjusted their plans. They were set to go in in five minutes.

  My eyes became heavy as the sun crested the horizon, chasing the night away to claim dominance over the sky. I had to fight to stay awake, though the anxiety creeping up my chest made it slightly easier than normal.

  I turned the radio up on the coffee table, next to my bag of blood, and sat back to open my maps app. I had the option to show my friends and could follow them in real time.

  “Radio check,” I heard Depweg say. Four new voices chimed in.

  “Rodriguez.”

  “Hopper.”

  “Rogers.”

  “Lieutenant Smithe,” was the last voice, and I assumed he was the squad’s leader.

  “Smithe has command,” Depweg informed. “Ludvig, are you in position?”

  “Roger,” the Swede answered. “Targets spotted. Two patrols on de outside. One at twelve and de odder at six o’clock. Clockwise rotation.”

  “Clear to engage targets,” Smithe said.

  There were a few seconds of silence before Ludvig’s voice came back on. “Targets eliminated. Clear to move up.”

  “Copy,” Smithe responded.

  Once again, everything went silent, and I imagined the Super Special Forces Team chatting quietly to one another in a circle.

  “Teams one and two are Oscar Mike,” Smithe informed. “Team three, stay frosty.”

  “Copy,” Ludvig responded.

  They hadn’t told me, but I assumed that the extra four men had assimilated with Depweg and Joey’s teams. That made me feel a little better, as that would be two four-man teams on the inside.

  “Team two, in position,” Depweg whispered.

  Smithe answered with, “Copy. Breaching front and back doors in three, two, one.”

  “Contact,” Smithe announced.

  “Contact,” Depweg said, and I heard suppressed fire before he released his walkie.

  I inched to the edge of my chair, my ass barely making contact as my elbows rested on my knees. I had taken off my phone and laid the hologram screen on the coffee table, leaving my hands free to wring themselves over and over. My breathing had become shallow despite my conscious effort to inhale long three-counts. I simply couldn’t control it. My chest was so tight that the cords in my neck were standing out. My tongue continuously licked at lips that seemed to never stay hydrated.

  “Moving up to the second floor,” Depweg said in a strained voice. I snatched up the walkie and pressed on the talk button.

  “Depweg. Depweg, are you hurt? DEPWEG!”

  He didn’t answer, and then I remembered why.

  I wanted to throw the radio against the wall for preventing me from talking to my best friend, but fought the urge and set it back down on the table with a loud thud.

  My hands went up to my face as I rocked back and forth.

  “Man down,” Smithe barked with controlled urgency.

  “Contact, several targets,” Depweg said. I heard the distinctive sound of elemental magic being cast, and I shot to my feet, wide eyes locked on the radio. My breathing had ceased.

  “Weapons free, weapons free,” Smithe issued, signaling that the magic users could step up.

  I grabbed my hair on either side of my head and pulled, yanking free several strands that instantly grew back. Spittle flew from between my teeth as I began taking heaving breaths.

  An idea came to me, and I grabbed my phone, slipping it into place over my wrist. With the map icon still open, I saw my pin was already dropped, so I opened the portal app. I clicked the button and saw a two minute timer begin its countdown.

  “What the FUCK am I doing?!” I squeaked as I began pacing back and forth, staring at the countdown.

  John, what are you doing? You won’t have any powers! I-I won’t be able to help you! Baleius cautioned, worry evident in his voice.

  I know! I know! I don’t care! I yelled back.

  You’re going to get us killed! he almost shrieked. Cancel the countdown!

  I looked at the button, continuing to lick my lips as I rocked back and forth where I stood. My finger hovered over the red cancel icon.

  Press it!

  My finger lowered until it was maybe a centimeter from making contact with the hologram.

  “Man down! Man down!” Hayley cried out. She wasn’t supposed to be the one speaking, unless . . .

  “DEPWEG!” I bellowed, yanking my finger away from the countdown that now read one minute as if it had been made of fire.

  John! You must listen to me! Those are warlocks with their full abilities. You will be nothing more to them than target practice. Please don’t do this!

  Fifty seconds.

  I have to.

  You have to what? Start the apocalypse?

  I have to save my friends, I said coldly, my nerves beginning to settle for a reason I couldn’t put into words.

  John, please! Think about what you are doing!

  Forty seconds. Thirty-nine. Thirty-eight.

  Something tackled me in the control room of my mind, and I was sucked inward to find Baleius on top of me. His eyes were wild in panic.

  I can’t let you do this! he cried out as the steering wheel grew from the floor.

  Baleius stood up and strode to where it pierced the floor.

  I got to my feet and then backhanded the air in my Predatory Self’s general direction.

  Baleius went flying as if struck by a battering ram. He hissed as he landed on his feet and ran toward me with his claws out.

  I motioned with my index finger from ceiling to floor, and Baleius was thrown to the ground like a car had been dropped on top of him.

  John, please! I beg you! Don’t do this!

  I willed the Puzzle Box into existence and stared at the wild-eyed Baleius with cold determination. I didn’t like what I was about to do, but what choice did I have?

  NO! Please! Baleius begged as I ran my fingers over the box, allowing it to open. A violent light filled the control room, emanating from the box in my hand. My Predatory Self was struck by a wind that began pulling him toward his prison.

  Did you really think I’d just let my friends die? I asked as Baleius was picked up and tumbled through the air. His feet went in first as his hands tried in vain to press against the prison.

  There was rage in Baleius’ eyes, but there was hurt there, too. A part of me felt guilty, as I knew he was right. But I didn’t have a choice, and he should have known that.

  His hands slipped as he was forcibly sucked into his prison, the wind tearing at my loose hair. My eyes showed no emotion as he disappeared.

  I closed it and set it gently on the stand that sat upon my table. Then I turned and went outside my mind again.

  The countdown resumed at thirty-eight; everything had happened in an instant inside my mind.

  “Wish me luck, Tim,” I said in a stone voice.

  I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I knew I was going to do it.

  I closed my eyes and let my mind and body center. It was game time.

  Opening them again, I saw the countdown read five, four, three, two . . . I took in a deep breath, and a bright light washed over me.

  Chapter 23

  Iwas standing just outside the front door, which blessedly provided a canopy to shade from the sun. Instinct took over and I lifted my coat collar above my head.

  Lilith! I hadn’t even considered the sun, and could have portaled right into my own death.

  Feeling the sting of the dawn, I burst through the already open door and found the sta
irs. My muscles were slow, and it was as if I weighed five hundred pounds as I took the steps two at a time until I cleared to the second floor.

  On the ground was what I assumed was one of Collin’s squad. He had a black balaclava on, and his glazed eyes stared at the ceiling. The smell of burnt flesh filled my nostrils as I looked down to see he was missing everything below the waist. Smoke was wafting off his corpse, where charred entrails were barely contained in a semicauterized scab.

  Reaching down, I removed the one-point sling of his rifle and brought it up to position. I approached the first room and cleared the corners before seeing an unknown corpse littered with oozing holes in his chest, and a face that was covered in a loose black hood. Only his nose and eye sockets pressed through the material.

  Moving to the next room, I was startled to hear a piercing scream from somewhere downstairs. It didn’t sound like Locke or Joey, so I pressed on, determined to find Depweg.

  I glided in front of the door, sweeping the room, and a small ball of hellfire rocketed toward me. It hit several inches above my head before I could even react, making me gasp in surprise.

  Pointing my muzzle, I saw a dying warlock with a black hood that matched the first I had seen. He had thrown the last of his energy into an attack before slumping down the far wall, holding his gushing stomach. As his butt hit the floor, there was a thick, gruesome trail left on the wall behind him, and I knew he was going to be dead in a few moments. No need to expend ammo and alert any other enemies to my position.

  An explosion blew off a section of the house down the hall, throwing me against the doorframe. Flames instantly dried any moisture that had been under my skin, making my face feel like old leather. I was dismayed when my body didn’t heal, aggressively reminding me that it was daytime.

  Light shot down the hall when the smoke began to be sucked outside, causing me to fall into the room I had been in to seek asylum from the dawn.

  An idea came to me, and I whispered, “Please, please, please,” before willing Mjolnir into my left hand. “YES!” I cried out before quickly shutting my mouth. Shit, had I just given away my position?