Blerds Online

“Hey yo Mike, we gotta chat," I call from across the park. He turns to spot me and panics.   “I didn't even do anything this time and they took your badge. I don't have to run. There's nothing you can do to me. I'm just going to sit right on this bench and mind my own business. I'm not even going to look at you. Shit, stop looking at me. Please don't walk over here. Don't walk over here. Shit, stop walking over here,” he doesn’t have to say it. The look on his face does. He thinks If he stares into space, he won't have to acknowledge me. I walk over and stand directly in front of him, hands on my hips like some 80s detective or angry mom. He's just trying to intimidate me. He wants to make me feel like he has all the power. But he doesn't I have power too. "Could you get your dick out of my face," he asks. “You stood right there so I'd be eye level with your dick. What is wrong with you? What did I do? Always trying to get under everyone's skin.” "My genitals aren't in your face. Besides, if they were, it wouldn't be the first time you had a man's genitals in your face," I say in a childish tone. I'm not letting him get away. He’s hard to track down. "This is the first time I've had a man's dick in my face and you're being very hom...homio...homiophobic and you're doing the sexual harassing. Let me enjoy the day please." "The word is homophobic." "Whatever, I'm tired of looking at your johnson." I take a seat on the bench next to Mike and place an arm around his shoulder.   “I hate you. One second you’re insulting me and the next you’re pretending to be my best friend.” "I need to know what you know about this new fellow calling himself Big Boss," I try a much friendlier tone. "Is this a joke? You know I'm out the game. I've gone straight for real. I run a legitimate business," it's the honest truth, not just my truth. "You do, and I'm proud of you. But you still have illegal cable and purchase stolen goods. I'd hate to turn over your suppliers to the police with you as an informant," I grip his shoulder hard with my hand implying a threat. "Okay, just relax. I don't know much, heard he started at the docks and still hangs out there." "Thanks for the help and next time try to keep your eyes on me and not the jewels. We're going to be great friends." "I'm not one of your snitches." "Bullshit," I say followed by a boisterous laugh.  

***

  It's relatively easy to sneak onto the docks. It's supposed to be high security. Lots of things that can be stolen. The night guards don't really care. There's nobody here to reprimand them for slacking off. They won't put a lot of work into tracking down sounds they hear. Mainly because nobody is robbing docks anymore. They won't even verify your story, that's how I got in. Just threw on an orange safety vest and walked right in. Guard asked where I was heading, said I left my phone in the office. He waved me on in. The hard part is finding out where these guys are supposed to be meeting. There's a few miles of docks here and I've got barely any information to go on. I just drive through the docks row by row, looking for anything that seems to be out of place. Any signs of life beyond my own would be great. There's nothing, for a moment I think I hear something but it's just a barrel being slammed against a retaining wall by some waves. After an hour or so of searching I'm ready to turn it in before I hear an engine turn over. I drive over and notice a white van being loaded up. Not with content from a shipping crate but boxes from one of the trailer offices. Two men get in back with the boxes, another drives and the fourth jumps into the passenger seat before pulling off. I don't usually care for trailing vehicles, but it's the only thing I've gotten tonight. I follow the van off the docks, sticking as far back as possible. It's entirely possible they spot me out the back window and make my car. I stop and talk to the security guard for a while so they believe I've got no interest in them. Once they're around the corner, I pull off in the same direction. I make the same left turn. It's a straight away so I just sit back far away for now. A few more stop lights and they pick up the pace. Clearly, they've guessed I'm trailing them. I don't run any lights, I just keep my distance. They can't outrun me on a straight away. They start driving in loops. Just left turn after left turn. I pull over and park in front of a restaurant on the main road we were following. They keep making their loops, I don't follow and eventually they turn back on the road and follow the path we were on. I let them get a decent head start before I start to follow again. They pull into a self-storage and I park my car. From here I follow on foot. I make sure my guns are loaded and toss on my jacket. I don't like shooting people, but these days, everyone shoots first. I walk to the gate and key in the code. 12345. The gate unlocks and I walk straight through. Every one of these places is the same. Someone uses the code 12345. It's like how they say not to make your password "password" someone will do it every time. I make my way around the maze of units until I see the white van. Unit 31M. I'll check it out in the morning, it's too risky for now. Whatever they're stashing here they aren't going to come back and get until much later. No point in storing it in a unit if it wasn't going to sit.

***

It's a gloomy day outside but that works to my advantage. I make my way to the storage unit and pick the lock. It takes me longer than it used to. Mainly because people have stopped depending on padlocks. They don't even use combination locks anymore. They're all about safes built into walls and banks now. Sometimes I wonder if criminals are becoming professionals or if the professionals are becoming criminals. I lift the door and walk in, I hit the light switch on the wall and close the door behind me. I don't need anyone walking up and trying to make friends with me while I search this place. It doesn't take me long to find something. Every box, crate, suitcase and garbage bag has something. I thought I was tracking drug smugglers. That's not the case. These are clearly weapons dealers. Sure, there's drugs here, not enough to take all these precautions. Weapons are the clear money magnet. Pistols, shotguns, machine guns, ammunition, it's all here. The thing that scares me the most is the experimental stuff. Weapons with odd modifications, customized rounds. This stuff is designed to kill the first time, every time no matter what kind of protection you have. I need to get all this crap out of here, but I can't do it myself. A ledger lists different buyers, I tuck it in my pocket to go through later. Beyond that they don't leave much evidence. I grab a few rounds of ammunition for my personal stash. The rest of this stuff isn't necessary. Assault rifles, rocket launchers. If it was drugs, I'd just burn the storage unit and call it a day. I make my way to a payphone a few blocks from the storage units. One thing about the storage units is they're usually in a shady area that still has a few payphones. I do something I hate doing. I call the police. I practice my best concerned citizen voice and make the call. "911 what is your emergency," the woman on the other line answers lazily. "I just saw a bunch of black men loading guns into a storage locker," that'll get her attention. "Where at," she asks now fully invested. "Down at storage mart on 67th." "We're sending officers now." "Please hurry, I think they're going to hurt someone. I'm going to stop them." "NO SIR, don't go it could be dangerous," she says now in a panic. I hang up the phone. I head into the gas station and grab a cup of coffee. Before I can enter my car, I hear sirens from every direction headed towards the storage units.

***

None of this is adding up. I've been trying to find the source of the new drug Frost for days now. I've got nothing. I thought such a unique drug would have more clues. It lowers the user's body temperature which is why it's called Frost. It gives them a sensation similar to that of the last stages of hypothermia. For most people that would be uncomfortable but it's a new high for others. I need a sample. With a sample, I could have some friends break it down and tell me what the main ingredients are. If all else fails, I can just start beating the crap out of drug dealers and making my way up the chain. But, I'd rather do this the smart way. I drive to a high traffic area in downtown. They don't think about who they're selling to at all. It's the place where office workers buy what they need to get through the day or party the night away. The spot where cops get their bribes or highs. It's almost as if everything is legal down here. Just a few blocks from the courthouse. Hillarious. I roll the window down and give a head nod to the kid on the corner. Really is a kid, they get younger by the day it seems. "What you need old man," with a picture day smile. "Frost" "Nah, I ain't got that. You gotta get that on the far west side." "You know someone?" "This white guy, named Big Mike. He live in a trailer park but I ain't ever been there. But I got weed if you want that. You shouldn't be doing any of that strong stuff. You look like you got a good job." Is this kid giving me a life lecture? "Kid, go home. This isn't the job for you," I say rolling up the window and pulling off. There's three trailer parks on the west side of town. I just need to figure out which one Big Mike is at. I can't pop up asking questions, that'll spook him. I guess I got a little more work to do.

***

I stuff my clothes in my trunk. Now fully decked out in my local junkie clothes. I take a hand full of dirt and throw it on myself. Old running shoes, look worn down like I've been walking for days. Not the first time I've bought drugs, won't be the last. I walk what might be a few blocks to the trailer park. You can't drive a Masaratti to a trailer park. The one indulgence in my life. Damn, I love that truck. I make my way in and it's clear that drugs are sold and manufactured here. I walk up the first dealer I see as he finishes a sale. "Frost," "Nah, all the way in the back." I shake my head yes in a frantic motion before walking on. This is a safe haven for drug users. Close enough to the city that they can get home when their high comes down. Also far enough that the cops won't come snooping around because it's out of their way. I wouldn't be surprised if the stuff is made here. I reach the last trailer on the lot at the very back. Two guards sit, one on either side of the door. One looks like Hank Hill with no shirt and the other looks like the most stereotypical motorcycle gang member I've seen in real life. Yeah, this is the place. I hunch my back and make my way to the trailer in rushed shuffled steps. I ignore the guards on either side and start banging on the door. As they jump up I start to yell. "I NEED A FROSTY. CAN I GET A FROSTY MR. ICE CREAM MAN," I only stop yelling when the door flies open as one of the guards floors me. "Stop all that goddamn yelling," a man says stepping out. "We got this covered Mike," Hank Hill says. "I got money I say," squirming around. Mostly trying to get a view inside the trailer. The stuff isn't made here. There's no equipment. Mike just thinks he's a drug kingpin or something. "How much you got," Mike asks signaling his men to let me buy. "I got this," I say handing him $93 in crumpled money. One twenty, the rest crumpled 5s, 10s and 1s. "Here, take this and get lost," Mike says tossing me a container holding about 20 pills. That's just under $5 a pill. This is cheaper than I thought. No wonder if it's growing so fast. It's a cheap way to get high. I jump to my feet and take off running. I make sure to keep tripping and shuffling my feet. I got what I needed. Now I just need to pay a visit to a friend in the lab.  

***

Angela isn't taking my calls. I can't blame her. The last time we were together, things didn't end on great terms. They never do but we always find our way back together. I don't think today is that day but I need to get into the crime lab and speak with her. Another lab tech puts in the code in and waits for the door to slide back and admit him. The three lab techs I've watched use the same code. Seems there's a single code for entry into the lab. I make my way to the door and enter the same code as everyone else. 809303, a brief pause and the door slides open. I don't waste any time going to the lab. I know where Angela's office is and I make my way there. She's not in so I invite myself in and close the door. I take a seat in the chair near her desk. Nah, I don't want to sit with my back to the door. I move to the opposite side of the desk and sit in her chair. No, that seems arrogant. I lean on the desk. No, she'll think I'm trying to be sexy. This isn't going to work. I just leave the office and stand next to the door. No need to surprise her any more than just showing up. I see her walking up the hall nose in a file, not paying any attention. She walks right into her office and sits down, not even looking up. Glad I left that door open. "Hey Angela," I approach. "Great, what do you want now," she asks. Clearly she isn't over our last shot at love. "I've been doing okay, what about you?" I ask, trying to keep it casual. "Cut the crap and tell me what you want," she shoots back. "I'm just trying to find out what the components of this drug Frost are. I'm, hoping I can track those and find the people producing it." "If I do this will you stay away?" "I can't promise that, but I'll try."

***

"Why did you call me here if you didn't have the results," Angela has never been one to be petty before so I'm not sure what's eating at her right now. "I do have the results. I'm just opting to not give them to you. I called you here to ask that you give up this case and focus on something different. I put together a list of twenty-seven cases that will pay for a reward and are less than 48 hours old," Angela hasn't done this much for me since we were together. Something is wrong. "Alright, be real with me, what is in those results that has you bugging?" "I'm not bugging, I just think this case will take you nowhere. Probably not even paying much." I walk over to Angela and tug at the report like a small child. I open the envelope and read the breakdown of the drug. I'm not a chemist but I picked up enough in high school chemistry and perhaps some of Angela's talent is sexually transmitted. I recognize most of the chemical names, or at least can recall hearing them before. One name stood out, mainly because she had circled it and placed an exclamation point next to it. Hydraclerchlemnochlane, I can't even pronounce that. "Angela, what's this one do," I ask pointing at hydraclerchlemnochlane like the word is some kind of chemical. "I don't know, I just know this is the only place you can get it. We developed it in the lab." Well that throws a wrench in my plan. I need to take down whoever is behind Frost. Now I have to do it without getting Angela fired. That's going to be hard considering everyone in the building is a suspect now. Maybe there's another way to find out who is behind the drug.

***

"Mr. Harlem, would you please tell the court how you caught the defendant," the lawyer asks. "A little work and a lot of time. Took months and I had to make friends with the security guard. I had to get copies of who came and went. Had to know who was in charge of getting and distributing supplies. After figuring that out it was clear Mrs. Daye was guilty. She was the only one who could order Hydracle...Hydreclerchle....the chemical needed to manufacture Frost. It only took so long to catch her because she spaced the orders out so much," I wait for more questions. "Thank you Mr. Harlem, that will be all," the defense doesn't have questions for me so I step down. I don't need to know how the case ends. Once I turned over my investigation results to the police, they got search warrants and everything they needed to prove it was her. I just wish I hadn't dedicated so much time on this one. I didn't get paid for this case and that sucks. I guess I made the neighborhood a little better, but that'll probably just get my office rent raised up.  

The one thing I couldn't figure out is why. She had money, she had a big house, way bigger than me. A nice car, and happy family. She gave us everything on her plan. Gave us all her dealers. With all of them gone, the supply instantly dried up. She had an entire criminal organization when she didn't need one. Just never said why. Part of me wonders if she was just bored. What happens when you have so much privilege that you escape punishment for doing wrong? So much money they can't prosecute you? I imagine people start to give in to their wildest fantasies.

When I checked the morgue after Ci-Ci killed Jonah, he had broken out of his metal cabinet. Somehow, he’s still out there kicking. Since then I’ve been taking self-defense classes and practicing my magic. Next time that monster and I come face to face, I’ll be ready. Sometimes I miss fairy dust, but I don’t need it. Coping mechanisms and controlling my emotions, has been a big help. Learning to control my magic for the first time is probably beneficial as well.

He’ll be back next year, or maybe sooner. Zodiac is probably the only killer that just stopped killing, or Jack The Ripper. Most go back to killing, it’s in their nature. Ci-Ci won’t be here to save me, so I’ll burn his ass into dust if he comes for me.

I finished my story, but I never sent it out to be published anywhere. Decided to publish it on the site I had the kid build for me. I realized there’s a market out there that doesn’t really have news like they should. The supernatural world. I published it there instead. I’ve decided I’m going to report on the supernatural world. The people who read will know what they need to know, or they’ll think it’s some really detailed online fiction. I’m fine with that, the majority of people will just think I’m really into magic and Chicago, but some people will be helped.

That’s my new thing, finding ways to help people, which is really just to help myself. I’ve been fighting internally for a long time but I think I’ve finally found a way to be at peace with myself. Unfortunately, or maybe fortunately, people felt inspired by my story in Narcotics Anonymous. I’ve been studying, I plan to start my own group, maybe not like NA. Something similar, something with less praying for help and more helping yourself, or getting help for others.

I make my way into the kitchen and fill a bowl of ice cream. I haven’t had a good binge in a while. I head over to the cabinet, to grab some iced oatmeal cookies. There aren’t any, I always keep some. Who could have taken my cookies? Tituba. I can hear her laughing now, I told her where the cookies were when she was here. That old lady owes me some cookies.

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 Until death do you part, those are the words everyone agrees to at their wedding. I agreed to them, but if last month had showed me anything, it was that you should stick to those words. I spent the last few years waiting for a man to come back from the grave for me and it made life terrible. Why the hell was I working at the TSA? No offense to anyone else, but I’m way better than that. I fight monsters, I hide under their beds, and scare them at night. It wasn’t for me.

Justin, I’m sorry. I wasn’t there for you. You didn’t die because of me, but you died despite my trying. If I had been on top of my game, Jonah would have never had a chance. I’m sorry I killed your brother. I don’t think I’m going to keep your last name. I’ve deified you, and you were flawed. Your feet stank, you never did the dishes, you always picked the job with the highest pay even if we weren’t qualified. Despite all that you didn’t deserve to die.

I don’t deserve to have my life dictated by you either. I have to step away, do my own thing. Take some trips, maybe meet a new guy. It isn’t really living if you’re a slave to the past. You were my first love, not my life, and nobody said you had to be my only love. My train of thought is broken by my cell phone ringing.

“Hey Erica,” I answer the phone.

“You down for a job,” she asks.

“What you got?”

“Something easy to start you off with. Werebear.”

“Werebear?”

“Yeah, he’s been fucking up the countryside and taking over land. Someone has to put him down.”

“I’ve never seen a werebear. I can’t miss this one.”

I don’t know if I want to be a hunter forever, but for now I need to get back to it. My body hurt like hell after tangling with Jonah. But I missed it, the bruises, the pain. I heal pretty fast, something with the blood magic. I miss the rush, putting my life on the line, I’m an adrenaline junky. Still, I don’t think this is the career for me. The one thing I need right now, is to help people. I’ve been selfish, I still never apologized to Rythe or even Tituba for destroying her home. That’s the real reason I’m working, I need to get her home fixed, she’s been staying with me and I can’t take much more voodoo.

Tituba suggested I try teaching if I want to help people. She said there’s a school in Indianapolis. Hidden, something about traversing catacombs to a magic portal to get in. It all sounds so ridiculous, like they went to extreme lengths to hide the school. She’s never been so it might not be as crazy as she makes it sound. Me as a teacher, doesn’t sound so bad.

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I look over just in time to see Ci-Ci dive in front of Jonah, one of his hands piercing through her side as he drove her into the ground. Shit, I guess that means she’s out of the game. I rush the last few people out hoping he doesn’t see me and I can leave with them.

“Hey,” Jonah calls out, almost growling. “You hear me,” he keeps calling. A gust of wind makes me stumble.

“Are you talking to me?”

“You’re next. I already killed your girlfriend.”

“She’s not my girlfriend. You’re more my type. At least before you started looking like waling death,” witty banter, please save me.

“That’s good to hear, should make this easy. I’ve never killed a dark elf before,” He forces his face into a smile, almost as if the bones had to lock into place. “Don’t fight back, just let it happen.”

I throw my hands in front of my face and close my eyes as he rushes towards me. Fighting has never been a strength of mine. I keep expecting an impact, but I feel nothing. I open my eyes to darkness, more darkness than I’ve ever seen before. I can’t see anything at all. No, there’s a light. I make my way towards it. It’s a long walk before it gets big enough or me to check out. Just a hole, big enough for me to step through. Am I dead? Did he kill me that fast?

I step through the doorway and watch as Jonah crashes through the side of a food stand. I’m back where I was a few minutes ago, at least I think I am. I moved somehow, away from the danger. I make my move to check on Ci-Ci while Jonah is out of the way. Hopefully she’s alive.

It seems like a thin red film has covered her. Most likely blood, but she doesn’t respond to me. I don’t think she’s dead, she seems mostly alive at least. But she’s in no condition to fight Jonah, and I’m not a fighter. Jonah is climbing from his wreckage and it seems like I don’t have much of a choice.

I try to run and hide but he’s too fast. I don’t even feel the impact, but it becomes hard to breathe as he wraps his hands around my neck. The world goes black again. I can breathe again. Another pinhole, I follow it and walk through just like the last time. This time I’m behind Jonah as he stares at his hands in confusion. I use the moment to sneak away and hide in another food stand.

I know what’s going on here. Sometimes people are just born with too much magic. It happens to all different species. Children shooting lightning bolts. Teenage boys burning holes through prostitutes and barbecuing their abusive family members. All kinds of things happen. For these people it important that they learn to control their emotions from an early age. I was all messed up, so my magic didn’t show up like it normally would. Showed up during an emotional moment.

I did learn to use it when I was in college, but it was just too much to control. Flushing the decades’ worth of drugs out of my system probably brought it back. I’ve been moving through the shadows. I never learned that trick, has to be some kind of defense mechanism. I guess I have to fight back now, since that’s what my body wants. I remove my jacket, and fold it neatly. I’d just burn through it.

“Get out here and fight me you coward,” Jonah yells.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. I hear you,” I step in front of him.

“There you are. I’ve had enough with your tricks.”

“Do you have a cigarette?”

“What?”

“Cigarette, I could use a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke,” I can’t tell if he’s annoyed or amused.

“That sucks, your sister flushed all of mine.”

“I’m not going to play your games.”

“Alright, let’s get this over with then. Do you want the chest or the head?”

“What?”

“Chest or the head.”

“I’m going to kill you,” Jonah starts to rush at me.

“I guess it’s the head then.”

I fling a left-handed fire ball at his head he dodges. I throw one with the right at his legs. Party trick, I earned a few beers in my dad with my aim. As few stick him, but he rubs them off. Maybe I’m just not hot enough. I make a run for it, zig zagging, making him work for it. Really would love if that shadow thing would kick in right about now.

I feel one of his bony elbows slam into my back and send me tumbling. For the best, I couldn’t have run much longer anyway. I throw my hands in front of me, and shoot a steady flame. He tries to walk through but it’s too hot. The more fear inside me, the hotter it burns. All of my emotions do it. That’s why I stay high, or at least had been. The flames are starting to toy with turning blue, it’s hot. It’s keeping him back. I can see he’s being burned. But he isn’t stopping. And I’m tired. I’m so tired.

I’m tired of always fighting. I’ve been fighting just to keep living for a long time. Unfortunately, it seems like my body has finally given out. The last of my fire burns out and I stare into the eyes of a burned and pissed off Jonah. Entire pieces of flesh have been burned from his torso and face, yet he still stands and inches towards me.

I just close my eyes, and accept it. I don’t have any energy to fight back at this point. Lore from my homeland says when you die your soul wanders Earth, unable to interact with anyone or anything until you have atoned for your sins. Eventually you’re able to ascend into the great desert and commune with all others. I wonder how long I’ll walk for. I’m not sure if I’ve been a good man or what qualifies being a good man. I really wish I had cigarette.

A hot and thick liquid lands on my face, bringing up some sensual memories. Not sur why that’s where my brain goes in death. A soft thud causes me to open my eyes. Ci-Ci stands before me, holding her side, a blade on her arm and Jonah’s decapitated body lies before me.

“I’m sorry, we’re even now,” Ci-Ci utters before collapsing next to him.

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“Get the people out of here,” I yell to Rythe picking myself up from the dirt and piled up skeletons Jonah had just tossed me through.

I expected him to make some grand entrance at midnight, but when nothing happened, I started arguing with Rythe. He was madder than I had ever seen him, I could feel the heat coming off his body. I had never felt that before. He said I wasted his time and Jonah was probably out claiming his annual Halloween victim. In the midst of our argument a blast of air slammed into me, and sent me flying into a pile of bodies, or a pile of skeletons resembling bodies after a battle.

I still don’t see Jonah when the dust clears, but he’s here somewhere. I’m ready for him this time, I’ve taken some iron pills, plenty of cinnamon, garlic and cayenne pepper to top me off. I even drank a little blood, not as much as I did back in the day, but enough that I’m ready for Jonah. I won’t be passing out or getting dizzy tonight. Tonight, I kill him or make it really easy for someone to finish the job.

I finally spot him, at least what I think is him, walking through the dust and commotion. Taller, but arms elongated enough to nearly drag the ground, his wings look to be made of bone or granite, something that shouldn’t be able to fly. His mouth almost looks like a beak at points it looks like his bones are going to shoot through his leathery flesh. The thing that gives him away is the leather boots and pants that now look like capris. Classic Jonah look every since he began riding his motorcycle. I don’t recognize the dimly glowing tattoos across his torso. His laugh is the final piece, this is Jonah, but what happened to him? Why is he like this? He’s almost more gargoyle than man, and a far as I know, gargoyles were just an invention by architects based on dragons, but he doesn’t look like a dragon.

It’s been a long time but I let the blood drip down my arms forming blades on each. My favorite way to fight. Gives me the ability use swords as fluidly as others use their hands, all without having to worry about losing my grip. I don’t wait for him to get close so I can attack. The difference between us is I can use projectile attacks. I launch a stream of needles at him.

He covers his body with his wings. When he looks out, I’m already on the move. Another blast of needles. When I get behind him I notice his back has gone through some changes as well, his spine protruding from his flesh, bone poking through in some parts. Makes an easy target.

I slash at his back and he moves away using his wings to propel him away. Another shot of blood needles. This time he uses his wings to create a gust of air and scatter them. So that’s how he hit me earlier. I guess he got one new power besides being ugly.

“You like the new me,” he asks cockily, giving me a chance to catch my breath.

“What happened.”

“Few changes here and there, some new power. Got tired of being the weakling that needed to be saved all the time. Made some changes, learned some new tricks.”

“What’s with all the tattoos,” I ask still buying time.

“Names, different shapes, different languages, but all of them mean power to me. Pieces of the souls that I’ve conquered over the years. Each granting me more power.”

“So that’s why you’re all twisted looking.”

“I think I look great. Good to see you’re back to normal.”

“Why Justin? What did he do to you?”

“Oh, well, he found out. This one right here, over my heart, that’s his. It’s a heart, because I love my brother.”

I don’t hesitate, I rush in and start taking swipes. He blocks what he can. Every now and then something gets through and slashes at his torso. I’m back. The blood queen. Even with his new powers, I’m too fast for him. He’s stronger, but I won’t give him an opening. I’ll slit his sorry throat before the night is over.

A solid kick lands in the middle of my chest causing me to drop to a knee. I roll over on the ground before he can follow with a punch. I keep rolling and he keeps stomping. Blood, from my needles. Blood is mine. I launch the needles the straight from the ground into him.

I get back to my feet as he tries to remove the needles. He’s seen me fight. He knows the more of those needles that sink into him, the more I can control him. He’s sporting a new cut above his right eye. I did that. Another place for me to get blood into him. I might not be able to beat him in a straight fight, but if I can get enough in there to make him hold still, I can kill him.

I rush back in and start slashing. He’s forced to decide on blocking me or stopping the needles from piercing his flesh. He choses to block me. Jonah prioritizes stopping me. If I’m gone the blood won’t matter. He’s still the untrained hot head he always was. I knew we weren’t matched if I was on my game.

Jonah blasts me back with an air gust. Then he shoots off. He’s running, I got this in the bag. No, he’s going for Rythe. Jonah is almost there, he’s going to kill Rythe and Rythe won’t even see it coming. 

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“Why the fuck are we in Indianapolis? It’s just Chicago without technology or education,” Rythe continues his complaining.

“We’re in Indiana because this is where Jonah said he’d be.”

“You met in Indiana for Halloween every year?”

“Yeah, it became a family tradition. Jonah was on a school trip, Justin and I were on a job. We just happened to be close by so Jonah snuck out and met us a Halloween Festival.”

“Hicks, Indiana is full of hicks.”

“Have you ever been to Indiana?”

“No.”

“Exactly, it’s not full of hicks. There’s cities too,” I try to make a joke.

I don’t think Rythe has ever been outside of Illinois, or even Chicago. He’s also been a little on edge about the transfusion I forced on him, and I didn’t exactly apologize about the whole fiasco. Last night he drove off somewhere, and wouldn’t let me go with him. Wherever he went, he came back different. I don’t know if I’d say he’s more aggressive or he’s just not putting up with my shit anymore. It’s a good look for him, somewhat charming, maybe even attractive.

I hadn’t been to this place since Justin died, it was his spot, and he was a little upset he’d miss it the day he died. We had been chasing that vampire brat for way too long and it dragged past schedule. He wasn’t happy about missing Halloween, in fact I’d say he was pissed. Was he pissed at me? I don’t remember. Maybe he was.

The first time we came to this place, we showed up just after midnight. Everything was shutting down and people were heading home. Justin and Jonah picked me up and we just flew in through the back. We spent hours running the rides ourselves, playing games in the fun house, and making our own fair foods. We actually felt like a little family then. After that, we’d do it every year. It was like the reset button for us. We could be furious at each other, until that day.

“You know, we have Jonah’s home address. We could just hire someone from the Shadow Syndicate to blow it up,” Rythe suggests.

“He’s got neighbors, we can’t do that.”

“Controlled demolition, explode the house in on itself, burry him in the ruble, make sure he doesn’t come back from the explosions. Shadow Syndicate probably has hundreds of people than can get the job done. Might have to pay a rush fee, but we can get it done.”

“We’re not blowing up anything. He wants a fight, a show down. He wants to finally prove he can beat me in a fight. I’m going to prove to him that he’s still a runt. You’re here to get people to safety and help if, and I mean if, he gets the upper hand.”

“We’ve been going with your plans this whole time, and I think it’s time to mention, they’re all stupid. Really stupid.”

“Well, if you can manage to stay sober, just for tonight, you don’t have to deal with any of my plans anymore and you can go back to stalking people.”

“I think that’s better than dragging old ladies into danger so you can dig up a rotting corpse,” Rythe smiles as if he just won a war. “Oh look, corndogs, I love corndogs.”

I know what he’s doing. He’s poking and prodding at me. He wants me to get angry with him, try him. Almost as if he has some ace up his sleeve. What he really wants is an apology and I refuse to apologize for making him into a better person, a stronger person. He was strung out on drugs even if he won’t admit it and he keeps telling me I was wrong but nothing has come of it.

“Do you feel good about how you’ve handled this,” Rythe asks finishing his corndog.

“What?”

“Do you feel good knowing all of this could have been prevented.”

“It couldn’t have been prevented.”

“Oh, but it could have. I wanted to turn him in, but you needed proof. We had proof, and could have turned him in, but you were more focused on rehabbing an addict. We could have killed him at his home, but you wanted to face him on his own terms. Now we’re here in bumblefuck Indiana, not even a city like Indianapolis, or Terre Haute, Bloomington, but the middle of fucking nowhere.”

I place my hands on his shoulders, “Listen, you don’t understand what we’re going through, but one day it’ll make sense. This will all be done tonight.”

“You’re right,” he places his hands on my wrists. “It ends tonight, one way or another. Because if you can’t get the job done,” his hands are getting hotter, “I’ll call some people to get it done.”

“Are you trying to burn me?”

“No, but if you get burnt it’s only because you meddled with something you don’t understand, that’s why people don’t play with fire. But you played with fire.”

“Shut the fuck up, and play cornhole,” I snatch my hands free.

I grab a beanbag and toss it at the holes cut out into the wooden stand. Something is wrong with him. Rythe has been mad at me since I’ve met him, but now he’s scary. Almost as if something deep inside of him had been woken up. Maybe I did make a mistake.

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New adventures, normal adjustments, Nevada assembly, or any of the other fancy nicknames don’t matter. NA will always stand for Narcotics Anonymous, even if we aren’t anonymous. I never thought I would attend one of these meetings again. Actually, I did. I just didn’t think I would attend of my own free will. It isn’t something that I particularly enjoy. Sob stories, a round of applause, repeating the twelve steps like a religious text and so on. Yet here I am, with something to share today.

After speaking with Tituba, I felt compelled to come here. I told plenty of stories in my life, and I’ve told stories here in this room. I’ve never actually told my story, of who I am, how I came to be. I just hid it for myself, unsure of what to do with it. Afraid that if someone saw the real me, how twisted I was that they wouldn’t like me. But now, I don’t have that option. It feels like death is standing over me, waiting for me to collapse.

“And now I’ve been clean for 37 days. But I have a long way to go,” a woman holds her hand over her heart as people clap.

“Wow, that was wonderful, and congratulations on your sobriety,” Michael brings the group back. “It’s important to remember that sobriety comes one step at a time. It isn’t a race, but a marathon.” He pauses and looks around, avoiding eye contact with me, but confused by me reappearing. “Is there anyone else who would like to speak today,” he asks.

I raise my hand and he continues to look past me, afraid of what I might say. When nobody else raises their hand, he stares at the clock, wondering if we can leave early. I’ve never shared in this group before, I can’t blame him for having some fear of what I may say. I’m dysfunctional, even by Narcotics Anonymous standards. When I’m not high, I can be emotional, and backing me into a corner can be bad. Even now, I feel myself sweating and my body heating up as he ignores.

“I’d like to speak,” I just stand up instead of waiting.

“Wow, you’ve never spoken before Rythe, and you already finished the program. Are you sure,” Michael is nervous. “You look like you recently had some issues as well,” alluding the bandages on my wrist. “Maybe another time.”

“No, I need to do this now. I might not have another chance.”

“Alright, the floor is yours. Tell us your story. Remember people, this is a no judgement zone. We are only here to support.”

“I’d like to start when I was young. I was thirteen years old, there was another boy in the apartment complex. I can’t even remember his name now. We would play every day, best friends forever. One day we were talking about how our friend had kissed a girl. We laughed, and both agreed it was gross. I didn’t have any intentions of kissing girls, and neither did he. He said he didn’t think girls were cute, neither did I. But he thought I was cute, and I thought he was cute. We did what kids do when they’re young and first experiencing love. We held hands, and some days we would hug.”

“So, you’ve been using drugs since thirteen, wow,” Michael interrupts.

“No, I haven’t gotten there yet. Well, one day we moved up to kissing. Not even making out. I was pretty sure I was gay at that point, he was too. His name, Dume, that’s what it was. Well, one day, my mother caught Dume and I kissing. She spit on me, called me a faggot, and then tried to scrub me clean in the bath. Even tried to drown me a few times but I fought back, and she couldn’t kill her child.”

“That’s terrible,” The PCP addicted Orc says.

“It gets worse. See my uncle lived with us as well. My mother handed me over to him. His solution was to beat me. Over and over and over and over again. Vicious beatings, back hands, punches kicks. Sometimes he would he just beat me with whatever he could find,” I brush my hair to the side to show the scar next to my ear, “that’s from a lame he hit me with. The bulb broke and left a scar.”

“They took me to a priest,” I begin again. “We weren’t even catholic. Look at me, I’m a Dark Elf. We all were. We’re not even Catholics, our people didn’t even have genders before we were taken as property. We had sex with whoever we wanted. But here she was taken in by some pope and priest. They tried prayer, holy water, and none it worked. I was just the fucking faggot devil in her eyes. That’s what my mother saw me as. And she couldn’t change it.”

I pause my story to regain my composure. I take some deep breaths as others in the group assure me this is a safe space, a place where I can continue. Hearing myself say these words, tell this story, is bringing up all these emotions again. I’m feeling them all for the first time, and it takes every coping mechanism I have to continue. But I need to continue.

“After religion failed, my uncle had another plan. In addition to the beatings, he’d bring a woman in. One day, I was cleaning the house, and my uncle comes in with a woman. I don’t know her name, she was a prostitute. The thrall of a vampire who had been whoring her out at one of their brothels. That’s all I knew. My uncle told me, I would have sex with her. I said no. So he beat me as she laughed and told me it was for the best.”

“You really don’t need to go on” Michael assures me.

“After he beat me, I was tied to the radiator and forced to watch the two of them have sex. When he was finished, I was told it was my turn to go next. I didn’t want to. He pulled my pants and underwear off as I was still tied to the radiator. I remember him smiling, laughing at my penis. Calling it small as the prostitute held it in her hands. That was my first sexual encounter. She masturbated me until my penis felt like sandpaper and I finally ejaculated. I wish I could tell you it got better after that but it didn’t. If this is too much, you should leave now.”

I watch as a wood elf leaves the room and doesn’t look back. Nobody else budges. I’m not sure if they’re interested in the story or they really want to hear about my past. I’ve seen some of these people regularly over the years, and never told this story. Even if a few seem uncomfortable, the curiosity of my past may have gotten the better of them.

“That happened, maybe three more times. After that, he’d beat me, strip me naked and tie me to my bed. I tried to fight it, but a penis isn’t just emotion, or lust behind it. It’s physical, and I could never fight the erections. I tried so many different tricks but it didn’t matter. Well, once I was tied to the bed, she hopped on top and went to town. I don’t know if she got enjoyment from it. Seemed like she did, seemed like my uncle got enjoyment from watching. I’d finish, and sure, it felt great, but I felt so much sadness and hatred every time. Eventually, they stopped tying me up. My grades were slipping, I was acting out in school and I couldn’t control my emotions. I hated it so much. But I just stopped fighting the sex, I couldn’t win even if I was getting older.”

“Rape,” the human woman from earlier interrupted. “You didn’t have sex, you were raped. Like you said, you can’t control what your dick does when touched. They raped you. You didn’t want that.”

“I know, but I don’t know if they deserved what happened next. You see, I went to some really dark places during all of this. If you weren’t aware, Dark Elves have this natural affinity for fire magic. It just appears. Now, at my age, it should have already happened. I imagine the rapes, and beatings probably stunted me in the magic department, not just the social department. Well, one day, as she’s sitting on me, she’s forcing me to feel her breast. I wasn’t even thinking about it, but flames shot from hands, burned holes clean through her, she dropped dead right there on top of me. I couldn’t stop the flames. My uncle should have been fine, Dark Elves need some really hot heat to be burned. But he was burned, and the flames wouldn’t stop until he was on the ground no longer screaming. He didn’t die, but I thought he did, and maybe it was a self-defense mechanism.”

“Is this when the drugs start,” Michael asks.

“Hush, sharing our pain is an important part of overcoming it,” The Orc stops Michael.

“After that, my mom kicked me out at sixteen. I was just another homeless gay kid at that point, and for some reason, I think I was happy. Just because I wasn’t being beaten or raped every day. But, I didn’t know shit. I fell in with a High Elf named Beduck, he seemed nice enough. He was rich, and I mean big money. This is the first time I did drugs Michael,” I stare at him. “Beduck drugged me slipped something in my drink, and he raped me. Not like the prostitute, but I woke up and could barely walk. But I was stupid, I believed him when he said that I wanted it, and came on to him. It got worse, eventually we moved to the point where he would watch me inject heroin. I was hooked, and that’s when we would have sex. I think he liked watching me do drugs more than anything else. The fucking premature ejaculator. Then one day, I fucking overdosed. Do you know what he did? He raped me, while I was on the verge of death. Dressed me in some old clothes, and left me by the river. I’m pretty sure he thought I would die, and so did I but I couldn’t even speak enough to call for help. But I lived, I lived through all of that shit.”

“So that’s how you got hooked,” Michael asks increasingly upset.

“Will you shut the fuck up,” The Orc asks, more demands of Michael.

“I kicked heroin, I did that all by myself. I’m fucking strong, no matter what. I overcame all of that shit. I finished high school from a homeless shelter, with no family. My guidance counselor told me I should set my sights on general labor but fuck him too, because I went to college. That’s where I took fairy dust for the first time. I was taking it for medicinal reasons. I really was only taking it in small doses once or twice a week. I wasn’t even getting high. But I became dependent on it because it was the best high, the cleanest high I could get. I needed that high, because I couldn’t deal with all the dark shit in my past. I am a Dark Elf, a faggot, a rape victim, an addict and every day I’m reminded by the world that each of those things me I’m trash and I’ll never be anything but trash. That’s why I get high, but I’ve been clean for a whole two days.”

“I need you to hear this story, because if I die, I need to know someone remembers me. I need to know people even thought about me. I’ve been pushed away by every person I called friend or family. When I die there will be nothing left of me but some newspaper articles. When I die, I need people to know that I am someone,” I take my seat and take a deep breath.

“Are you going to kill yourself? Is that why your wrists are bandaged,” Michael asks what’s been on his mind.

“No, I don’t plan to kill myself. This is completely unrelated. Today feels like a normal day for me, a good day even. But, every now and then in the corner of my I feel like the Angel of Death is there. Waiting for me with a smile, waiting to meet an old friend.”

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 It probably isn’t the smartest idea to be visiting Justin’s grave right now. Jonah is out there looking for us, and I know he’s probably been here a few times. I just didn’t know where else to go. My home doesn’t feel like his home anymore, it’s been years since he lived there with me. It’s more my home than his now. Most of his possessions have long been boxed up and moved out back to the shed. A few trinkets and a lot of photographs are all that remain of him.

Sitting here on the cold and damp grass, wiping the moss away from his headstone, is the closest I’ve felt to him in a long time. I’ve had dreams, but even then he seems so far away from where I am now. Here, his physical form rests right beneath me. I know he’s here, still real in a way. Almost as if I can touch him. So often it seems like I’m just chasing a ghost of what used to be. My brain tricks me thinking I hear his voice, or smell his favorite cologne. The truth is, most days I can’t even remember what he sounded like. I find myself watching old videos of us, just to remember who he really was.

I’ve been chasing after all these crazy things as a way to bring him back, and I don’t even know who I’m trying to bring back anymore. I’ve been after the goal so long, that I lost sight of it. If I had listened to my friends, or Jonah, or Tituba I wouldn’t be here right now. I wouldn’t be questioning everything I’ve done since Justin’s death. I don’t know any more. I’ve come to far with Jonah now, one of us is just going to have to kill the other. But I don’t think I can do it. The old me, sure, but the new me is questionable.

I don’t even know the new me. Who is the new me? Just someone who exaggerates how good my relationship was with my dead husband. Was it the amazing life I recite to myself? I can’t even remember. New me doesn’t know who she is any more. Somehow, I’ve become more tied to Justin in death, than I as when he was alive. I lost myself. Everything Tituba said about me, I hated to hear it, but it was right. Was it always right or have I changed?

Rythe is probably waking up by now, he’s probably pissed off. I shouldn’t have done it, but it’ll be better for him. Tituba was right again, I don’t consider other people. Is that why I’ve lost so many people? I’ve been a bad person, and treated them wrong. I was too greedy, maybe I need to try to do be different. But, that’s how I’ve survived. Being greedy, protecting myself. There was no other way to do it.

My phone rings, an unknown number, “Hello,” I answer anyway.

“It’s Tituba, I borrowed Rythe’s phone,” I don’t even know Rythe’s number. “He’s awake, and he isn’t happy.”

“Is he alive?”

“He’s going through withdrawals, but he’s alive.”

“Good.”

“That’s all? You don’t want to speak with him?”

A feather pierces the ground just a few inches from where I’m sitting. “We’ll speak eventually,” I hang up.

That was Jonah, no one else. I hop to my feet, survey the are and prepare for a fight. He’s not here, he could have killed me, but he didn’t. A small letter is attached to the feather. I grab it and begin to walk. Hopefully he won’t attack, daylight attacks are a big risk. Heavy fees or maybe even jail time in a magical prison. But Jonah isn’t who I thought he was. I’ve been under estimating him. I rip open the letter before thinking. It’s entirely possible that he could have rigged this letter to trap me in another illusion. I turn into a corner, and pull my car keys from my purse. I dig deep into the flesh of my arm, enough to draw blood and a peel some of the flesh. I just needed the pain to make sure it wasn’t a trick. I’ll heal eventually, pretty quick if I have some leftover blood at Rythe’s apartment.

The letter is neatly handwritten, almost like a serial killer who put more into the presentation, than the actual content of the letter. Then again, he is a serial killer.

Hey Big Sis, 

I’m really sorry about how things turned out between us. I didn’t want it to be this way. That’s why I kept telling you to let Justin go. Now we’re trapped in a feud that has spilled blood on both sides. You and your allies have escaped me more than once, but you fell into my trap each time as well. Now the conclusion will have to end with one of our deaths.

I chose not to kill you this morning. It would not be fair for a surprise attack to end you. I’ll see you soon at the place we first met, on the anniversary of the day we met. Bring the elf, he’s gotten himself involved and it is only right that he be there for the conclusion.

Yours truly,

Jonah

The two of us met on Halloween, and I remember where. We went there every year afterwards. Justin’s way of trying to force us to bond. I guess we’re going on a road trip. 

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 I wake up feeling confused, a little cold but covered in blankets. This is the couch, but I can’t remember how I got here. Last thing I remember was walking to my bedroom. Why was I watching Andy Griffith? None of this seems, like something I would do. “Ah, you’re awake. Stay right there,” Tituba pats my foot through the blanket and heads into the kitchen. I don’t try to move, I just feel like body wouldn’t move if I wanted it to, so I don’t try. I just try to focus on the television. This isn’t my favorite show by a long shot and I hate greyscale television, but my eyes aren’t focusing. I feel as if my entire body is rejecting itself. I thought Ci-Ci said Jonah’s illusions were only mental. I feel all the physical pain I should have felt earlier. Maybe this is another illusion. I’m a dark elf, I generally run pretty hot temperature, why am I so cold? “Here, stay down, drink this,” Tituba holds a tea cup to my lips. The whole drink is harsh with just enough chocolate and mint flavor to make it digestible. At times it feels like tea, and milk at others. I’m not even sure I trust her, but I don’t have a choice, I can’t fight back. To some degree it does help. I feel a little warmer and my vision seems to have cleared up for the moment. “Do you remember what happened,” she asks cautiously I finish the last swallow of her drink. “I was arguing with Ci-Ci, and then I turned to my room. But she called me and,” I can already reach the conclusion. “She forced a transfusion on me, after knocking me out, with sleeping powered. She’ just doomed us all.” “What are you talking about?” “I can’t control myself. The drugs are to keep me in control.” “I don’t get it.” “The magic, it’s too much for me.” “You’re not making any sense.” I force myself to my feet and witness my bandaged wrists and bruised shoulders. I’ll take blame for the shoulders but no doubt she’s the one that slit my wrist. I don’t care how much power she has over blood she could have killed me. Tituba reaches for me as I stand; she’s unsure if I’ll fall or not. I make my way to the small foot stool near the doorway, and lift the top. Nothing is inside but a pair of running shoes. Inside the kitchen, I crack the cupboard above the microwave, and there’s nothing. Last stop, I remove the lid from the toilet and look into the tank. Even the fairy dust hidden there is gone. “Please sit down, you’re hurting yourself.” “You don’t understand. I can’t make it without it.” “I do understand. You are not just recovering from the transfusion, but addiction,” Tituba leads me to the couch. “It wasn’t an addiction. I knew what I was doing.” “Maybe you did. But now you have to find a new way to adapt.” “She had no right.” “I know,” she covers me in the blanket again. “She was greedy, and it was wrong of her. But we can only move on now.” Tituba changes the channel to Judge Mathis, at least I won’t go insane with that. I’m not sure if the drink she gave me or the magic is warming my body, but I can feel it. My temperature is going up, and my nostrils have cleared. I’ll be back to normal in no time, and when I am, I’ll deal with Ci-Ci. I can just hand her over to Jonah. She’s the one he wants anyway. “Stop,” Tituba says to me without looking. “Stop what,” I ask. “You’re angry. You’re always angry even when you don’t show it. I feel the rage coming off you. From what I know about you, the rage is justified. But you need to let it go.” “Are you preaching to me at a time like this?” “What better time, you can’t get away,” she smiles. “Look, you’ve been done wrong in life, probably a lot more than what I saw earlier. You can’t let it define you. Look past it.”   “How do I do that?” “Well, you have to do a few things. You have to start with accepting things you can’t change. The transfusion is done. Nothing you can do now, especially while going through withdrawals as well. But you can take control of your life. You seem to just let things happen. We did take over your apartment,” she chuckles. “The next thing you can do is recognize you are bigger and better than you think you are. You put this whole thing together. Sure, she’s done all the fighting, but you made it all possible. From everything I’ve heard and seen you were the key to the escape every time. You’re a smart man, more than a pencil neck. Paper boy. Act like it, and don’t let anyone minimalize you.” After a moment of silence, I can only ask her, “Am I dying?” “We’re all dying boy. Some of us faster than others. You might feel like you’re dying but I figure you got a lot of living left.” “Are you dying? This talk seems like a conclusion to something.” “Oh yeah, the devils made of snow are coming for me,” she pauses and stares out a window. “But I’ve got time before then. A lot of time. I’m just trying to pass on some knowledge to a younger generation.” “Well thank you, I don’t think anyone has ever been kind enough to just pass on knowledge to me.” “People rarely live to be as old as me,” she laughs. “But you’re an elf. I hear some of you still live to be close to 200, even if it’s rare.” “I don’t know if I want to live that long.” “You just need to find your reason to keep living.” “How do I do that?” “It’s different for everyone, but it might have been right in your face or under your nose the whole time.”   “I’ll keep it in mind. Want some cookies?”

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  “You’re a junkie, if we clean you up we can stand a chance.”

“I’m perfectly fine.”

“It won’t kill you to let me clean your blood. I’ve got fresh blood, ready to go right now,” I point to the cooler of blood I had Tituba get for me.

“You don’t even know my blood type. You could kill me,” Rythe keeps refusing.

“It doesn’t matter what your blood type is to me. I can switch it up at will. You’ll be perfectly fine.”

“Forget it.”

“No, I won’t. I’m not going into battle with a doped up junkie beside me.”

“You’ve done enough. You flushed all my fairy dust. I’ve got none left and I can’t get more because your psycho brother is looking for me,” Rythe raises his voice at me.

“Brother, in law. He’s not my blood.”

“And my blood is not your blood either.”

“But it isn’t your blood either. Magic flows through your blood, like you said. That blood inside of you is filled wit drugs. It isn’t yours either.”

“Can you give it a rest. This isn’t a battle, this is my life. You’ve got me into some shit that I want nothing to do with. I am not a fighter. I am a journalist.”

“You’re an addict and a coward.”

“Did you ever stop to think there’s a reason I don’t want magic? Did you ever consider for just a moment I’m not an addict, but I’m self-medicating? You didn’t consider I’ve got some kind of illness just that I can’t kick the habit.”

“No, I didn’t consider any of that, because it’s the same kind of thing every junky has. I know you’ve got some kind of trauma with your uncle. But the drugs won’t take that away.”

“I’m not trying to take anything away. That made me who I am and the drugs came long after I got over that. Don’t pretend you know me or can relate to me. I’ve gone with your crap this whole time because Tituba asked me to save you. I got what I wanted after you kept forcing me into confrontations with your crazy as brother. I’ve learned a lot more about you, than you ever cared to learn about me. You’re welcome to keep hiding at my house for a while. But kindly, fuck off,” Rythe stands to retreat to his room.

“Hey Rythe, I’m sorry, but I think I have something that will change your mind,” I pull a handful of the dust from my pocket.

“You’ve got nothing to change my mind,” he keeps walking.

“Please, just, look at this,” I hold out my closed fist, palm up.

“What,” he finally turns around.”

“This,” I open my fist and blow the dust in his face.

“What the fuck is this,” his speech slurs.

“Sleeping powder,” sorry, that could have been easier.

I take Rythe to the couch as he tries to fight the sleep and curses me, mumbling something about not having control. I don’t care about any of that. I don’t waste any time. I cut open a few packs of blood and pour them directly into the cooler. As he bleeds I start storing the old blood in a bubble floating just above his chest. The new blood slowly enters his body and circulates.

“The Baron was right about you,” I heart Tituba whisper as she watches.

“What?”

“You are greedy.”

“I’m helping him.”

“No, you are helping yourself. The boy told you he didn’t want the procedure. He told you he didn’t want it over and over. He told you he had his reasons. You couldn’t even be considerate enough to ask him why. You just kept pushing for it and when he tried to leave, you drug him,” Tituba sounds both disappointed and angry.

“You know what we’re up against. I need him at his best.”

“Do you hear yourself. You need him at his best,” she pauses waiting for an answer. “You only know him one way. The way he determined to be the best for himself. I call him a boy, the way I call you a girl. You are but children to someone who has lived as long as I have. But make no mistake, he is a grown man. He has chosen this path for himself. Here you are ripping him from that path for your own needs. This is why the Baron would not help you. The Loa are for the people, they help the people who help others and he saw nothing but greed in your heart,” she doesn’t move from the armchair, just stares a hole into me.

I pay no attention to Tituba, she doesn’t have to fight Jonah. She wouldn’t back me up if I asked her. She’s become rather judgmental even after I promised to pay for repairs to her home. She thinks she knows everything because she’s old but she doesn’t. I spent a big portion of my life fighting monsters. That’s what I do. I know how to fight monsters. She speaks to old gods who aren’t even gods in this world anymore. What kind of god can be summoned by some old lady with whiskey and cigars?

“Do not speak of the Loa as if you know them,” Tituba spoke as if she heard my thoughts.

“What?”

“You believe you can speak on the Loa. As if you know more than they do. As if you know of their works. I know people like you. You turned your back on your people. Abandoned your culture for a new lifestyle.”

“You don’t know anything about me.”

“I know more about you, than you know about you. More than you know about that man you’re mutilating. I know that you think of yourself as being above everyone else. Did you ask your husband before he died if he wanted to come back? Did you ask if he wanted life support? Probably not because people like you, always think they know best. People like you always think they know better, but they’re afraid. You’re just a scared little girl, who can’t control the world, so she enforces her will on others. You’re not the only one who’s afraid. But you don’t see the rest of us forcing our will on others.”

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I wake up to the sound of my own screaming. A dark room, with a single flickering light bulb in the center. I'm tied in, ropes around my arms, stuck to a chair, someone on the other side of me. The hair on my neck isn't my own. My hands are still shaking, and I'm looking for my uncle's next punch but it never comes. I take some deep breaths, try to calm the shaking of my hands, soothe the flame growing inside, and fight the shadows at the edges of my vision. If I give into the shadows and fire now, I may never come back.

"Hello," I call out and get nothing but an echo.

"Glad you're finally up," I hear Ci-Ci's voice from behind me.

"Are you okay? I'm sorry. I just couldn't stop him."

"What are you talking about?"

"My uncle, he beat you."

"Oh, we got caught up in a trap. Illusionary magic," she sighs.

"I don't know what that is."

"So when we opened the box we triggered a spell, or a rune in this case I guess. Once broken it covered us an illusion shroud. What it does is put us in a trance like state," Ci-Ci calmly explains.

"And our bodies? Why aren't we hurt?"

"Our bodies are right where we left them, completely unharmed unless a lot of time passes. Then we could have died of starvation or he could have slit our throats. But he just tied us up. Our minds are wherever the user wants to send us, the spell warps our senses and makes it all seem real to us. Sounds like Jonah sent us to some of our deepest fears or in your case it sounds more like a trauma. So your uncle didn't beat me, and you weren't devoured by the undead."

“I need a shot of whiskey.”

“We need to kill Jonah,” she responds.

“I just need to get out of here first.”

“Burn through the ropes. I can take the heat.”

“Why would you think I could just burn through the ropes?”

“Because you’re a dark elf. Every dark elf can control and conjure flames.”

“That’s racist, and I don’t have any magic.”

“Are you serious,” she seems legitimately shocked.

“Have you seen me use magic? Even once?”

“I thought you just preferred to use guns.”

“I don’t even own a gun. I’m a journalist, not some mercenary.”

“That doesn’t explain why you don’t have magic.”

“Because elven magic circulates through the blood, and my blood is full of drugs,” I don’t even know if that’s how magic works. Nobody ever taught me.

“Is it all the fairy dust? I found it all over your apartment.”

“You shouldn’t be snooping. I didn’t go snooping around the palace of pain you call a home.”

“Palace of pain? You must be a journalist because that was sensationalist. Then again, could be that you’re just a drug addict.”

I don’t bother arguing with her. It won’t help me get free, just let her have the last word. She wouldn’t listen to what I had to say anyway. I can hear the walking above me. We’re likely in the basement. Why does every house in the Midwest need a basement? Nothing good ever happens in a strange basement. Time is running out, and I’m still not over being confronted with my childhood traumas. Even knowing they weren’t real. I suppose it does help in this situation.

It’s been years since I last did it, but I learned to do it long ago. After being beaten so many times I learned it would stop if I just broke something. Eventually I learned to dislocate my shoulders on command. I bite down on my bottom lip, enough to draw blood and bring tears to my eyes but I feel my shoulders fall, dead to me for a moment. It doesn’t take long to wiggle my arms free from the ropes.

“What are you doing,” Ci-Ci asked.

“Getting out of here,” I struggle to pop my shoulders back.

“Hurry up and untie me. He’s coming this way.”

The ropes are tight, but I manage to get her free and we rush to hide beneath the staircase. The door opens and footsteps shake the wooden steps into the basement. Jonah notices we’re missing right away. Ci-Ci signals for me to stay still as she sneaks from our hiding spot. I don’t have a choice but to trust her, I’m defenseless here.

She sneaks up behind Jonah and pierces his knees from behind. He screams as he falls and I take that as my opportunity to run. I catch a glimpse of her stabbing him in the back before making it to the top of the stairs. I search frantically for the keys. There’s still daylight, he won’t chase us outside. He doesn’t want pay the fees associated with it. At least I can hope he won’t. I grab the keys and catch Ci-Ci limping up the stairs. She’s got several of the razor like blades sticking out from her back and leg.

I drape her arm over my shoulder and together we limp out the front door. I lay her across the backstreet and start the car. In a horror movie this is when the car doesn’t start. I guess something did go right for us today. I pull out onto the road and glance in the rear-view mirror. Bloody but grinning Jonah waited on his porch, watching us drive away.

I’ve got what I came here for, but I don’t think this is over now. He’s seen me, and he knows I know about him. My wallet is still in my pocket, but did he take a peak? Does he know where I live? Does he even care? I thought it would be done when I got my proof for the article. Now I have to see this through to the conclusion and the only thing that can beat him is the passed-out woman in my back seat.

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 I let Jonah in my fucking house. I brought him around my fucking family. I should have known, nobody so anal couldn’t have been a serial killer. Justin is the only reason I tolerated your smug ass. You were never anything but someone hanging on. I could see the jealousy in your eyes. Every time Justin would accomplish something you’d be right there, trying to kill his joy. Seven hundred and thirty-two jobs we did together. We carried you right through every single one.

I knew he was jealous. An immature coward at heart. Fear and jealousy ruled his life and that’s why he did it. He was still just a little ass boy, afraid to sleep in the dark. Justin told me stories about Jonah coming into his room, scared to sleep alone. He did nothing but protect him from the world. Try to make him his own man. He encouraged him to be everything he is. Without Justin, Jonah is nothing. He doesn’t have the heart to do this.

A scream comes from the basement and I know Rythe is in trouble. If that bastard Jonah is here, he’s going to sleep in Hell tonight. I rush down the stairs and spot Rythe right away. There’s nothing I can do for him. He’s being devoured. Demons, half dead people. I don’t know. All in different stages of decomposition. I watch as they rip through Rythe’s trachea and put an end to his screaming. The gurgling as he chokes on his own blood sends a chill down my spine, I might die here today if I don’t move.

I turn to run up the stairs but my chin meets a step as my leg is snatched back. They’ve finished with Rythe and moved on to me. I stab and slice at them. Destroying the brain works on some. Stabbing through the heart works on others. But there’s too many. I just fight to get to a standing position. Maybe I can walk backwards up the stairs fighting. Give myself a chance to get away. I just need to get to my car. The problem is, there’s just too many.

“Get the fuck off me,” I hear myself yelling.

The blood shoots from my wounds piercing the half dead monsters that fill the basement. Is this what Jonah has been doing with his victims? Necromancy? Forcing them back to life. If this why he didn’t want me to bring Jonah back? Because he already had. I’ll kill him. I’ll kill every last one of these monsters. Then I’ll find Jonah, and I’ll rip his head from his shoulders with my own hands. If he runs he will never sleep. He will walk this Earth knowing I am behind him. Knowing I will be coming. A curse, a plague. It doesn’t matter, nothing will compare to what I’m bringing to him.

With my bearings it doesn’t take much to kill them. At this point I feel as if I’m crawling over corpses. How many people has he killed? How long has he been at it? He could never kill anyone face to face, always lurking in the shadows. I remember he was afraid to stake a vampire that had been preying on children at an orphanage. But he had the nerve to be a serial killer.

“Baby, please stop,” Justin stands in front of me.

Half of his face is rotted away and his wing are nothing but cartilage and bone at this point. The six pack I loved so much has been replaced with decaying and transparent flesh showing a window to his intestines. But the eyes, the eyes tell me everything I need to know. Jonah is still in there. Beyond the twisted beast he has become he’s still there. His soul is beyond those eyes, still there. It never left Earth, it couldn’t because it was trapped here. Resurrection is a fate worth of death. Jonah told me, and he knew, because this is what he had done.

“Hey baby,” the words come from my mouth before I can think.

“I missed you.”

“We’re going to get you out of here.”

“I can’t go back. Look at me, I’m a monster,” he looks away from my face.

“No, you’re still the man I love.”

“I can’t be him anymore. I’m something different now. I don’t even know if I’m a man anymore.”

“You’re enough for me.”

“You’ve always been more than I deserved.”

“Don’t say that, you were always my guardian angel.”

“But I let you down,” he balls his fist, tears may have fallen if he was alive.

“No, you didn’t let me down. Jonah killed you. He let me down. I should have never believed in him.”

“But you only believed in him, because I asked you to.”

“What else were you supposed to do? Hate your brother? You’re too good for that.”

“I’m only as good as you made me,” he walks closer.

Every warning sign in my body tells me not to do it. You should never kiss the undead, attraction to the undead only leads to one thing, more dead. But Justin isn’t dead, he’s alive and right in front of me. I lean in for a kiss, expecting him to meet me. A true fairy tail ending to our story. We’ll kill Jonah and find somewhere cool to live where he won’t decompose.

Then I feel it, his teeth rip through the flesh of my shoulder. I know I should I just stab him in the head but I can’t fight back. I’m helpless to Justin’s touch. Even as a zombie he could do whatever he wanted to me. I never felt this way about a man before him, and I never felt that way after. Here I am being devoured and clawed at by him, willing to let him have his way with me. It doesn’t take long before more attack. I try to fight them back, but not Justin. He takes my arm and places it to my side, I resign myself to my fate.

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 “Why were you following me,” Ci-Ci demands of me. “I told you, I wasn’t following you. I was following your brother in law. Shouldn’t you be more worried about why he was trying to kill you? I'd like to know. I'm sure this old lady would like to know,” I respond. “My name is Tituba and you have one more time to call me old woman before I trap you in an eternal trance,” the old lady finally introduces herself. “That doesn’t explain the stalking,” Ci-Ci doesn't drop it. “After I met you at the club, I looked into your husband's death. I thought you were the killer. Meaning you were a serial killer I'm looking for,” I shrug. “How dare you think I was a murderer, Ci-Ci slams her hands on my coffee table having regained her strength. “Well when I saw bird boy land in your yard I knew he was the killer,” I finish my explanation, it’s simple really. “That doesn't explain how you ended up at Tituba's home,” Ci-Ci continues her interrogation. “Because I'm sexy,” Tituba rubs her hips and the two of us share a laugh. “I was following Jonah, it just so happens he was following you. You should be lucky. He had you on the ropes. Any more questions,” I cede the floor to Ci-Ci. “You're full of shit! Jonah can be an asshole but he's not a killer,” Ci-Ci spits back at me. “I know you don’t want to believe him, but he's telling the truth. I can't feel a lie coming from him. He's on my dishonest with himself,” Tituba places a hand on Ci-Ci's shoulder.  Know she’s struggling with this. I would be too. An elf shows up claiming your brother in law is a serial killer, then kisses him. She just had the fight of her life as far as I know, and she didn’t exactly come out on top. Jonah looked incapacitated, not dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if he was out searching for her now, because he doesn’t know me. I need to ditch these two. They’re going to bring me nothing but bad luck. I’ve got my killer; I just need more information to bring him down. I think I can do that without them. “I would like to go home now,” Tituba breaks the silence. “Alright, let me grab my keys. We can grab something to eat on the way,” I grab my jacket. “No, your house is a mess, and he might be there still waiting for you,” Ci-Ci interrupts. “I must make amends with Ogoun. I reached out to another Loa, and as you can see, he brought ruin to my home,” Tituba rises as well. “No, that was me, I brought ruin to your house. I don’t have the money to fix it right now, but I promise I will.” “This was a punishment, I need to make amends,” Tituba insists. “Please at least wait a day or two until we can know you’re safe,” Ci-Ci says we as in a group. I don’t like we. “My place really isn’t that big,” I interrupt. “Nonsense. Tituba can take the bedroom and I’ll take the couch in the office,” Ci-Ci has a plan. “And me,” I ask. “This couch here in the living room,” she points. “Sure you wouldn’t be more comfortable in a hotel room,” I ask. “No, this is safer, we’re all together,” Ci-Ci continues to lead. “Whatever,” I drop my jacket, “but I’m sleeping in my bed.” “That’s no way to treat guests,” Tituba interjects. “You’re not guests and a few minutes ago, you didn’t even want to stay here,” I toss my jacket back into the armchair. “Well we’re here now. Let’s make the best of it. I’ll order pizza,” Ci-Ci grabs my phone from the reciever. “No mushrooms, they’re just a fungus,” I make my way into my bedroom. I take a seat on my bed and pull out one of my fairy dust cigarettes. This time, I’m looking for the calming effect that follows the adrenaline rush. I don’t like people, outside of small doses and they’ve invaded my home. People get hurt around me, and they’re insistent on being here. I need to be alone. That’s what is best for me, and everyone else. They just don’t see it. Hopefully they’ll be gone in the morning. This living situation just won’t work.

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This was going to be a Ci-Ci chapter, but I was finished before realizing I had written from Rythe's POV.

A few days ago, I was sure Ci-Ci was my killer. Then something happened while I was watching her house. Jonah, the boring guy I dismissed, slams down in her yard so damn hard it broke the tree branch I was sitting on. He started yelling at her about knowing her role, and how she can’t bring back her husband. That’s when I knew he was the killer. I spent the last few days following him, waiting on him to make his move. Thing is, he had just been stalking Ci-Ci, seeing where she had gone. Watching her, I figured she might be the next victim. We followed her to this house, or he followed her, and I followed him. I thought she was just coming to visit her grandmother or something. Turns out she was coming to see a Voodoo Priestess. I guess this served as my introduction to the world of voodoo. I’ll have to learn more about it, could always help me out.   That brings me to now. A journalist is never supposed to get involved. We observe the news, and report it factually. But, right now there’s an old woman looking like she’s gone two rounds with Mike Tyson, or at least tried. Ci-Ci and Jonah are also in the midst of a fight and I can’t do anything about that even if I wanted to back her up. I’d say she’s doing fine actually. I’ve never witnessed blood magic used in real life, or even on video. It’s just that rare. It looked like he was going to strangler her to death, then she just pierced his hands with blood. Since then the fight has been back and forth. He’s stronger and faster for sure, but she’s got a lot of skill and technique on her side. Almost as if he’s countering him before he can strike.   The wings he has, look almost like leather, but there are still feathers in spots. He shoots them off and they cut through things, almost like razor blades. The way they impale themselves on walls and floors, lets me know that was how he was committing the kills, but I still don’t know why. As for Ci-Ci, she’s opted for two claws on each hand and another three staves on her forearms she uses to catch and deflect the feathers. I want to run away, but I can’t leave that old lady in there alone. They’re only getting more reckless. It seems almost as if he wants to bring the home down around her, and she’s making it easy. I make my way to the door and peek through a window. I just have to wait on my chance to get in there and get out. Hopefully the woman isn’t as heavy as she looks, she could be an easy 230. But I have to do it.   As Ci-Ci is flung through another wall I rush in the door. I slip in a puddle of blood and do the splits, ripping my pants. If this wasn’t crazier than a fox in a chicken coop, it might be comical. Instead I roll over to all fours and push myself up before they can get back. I hear the commotion in another part of the house, but it won’t stay there for long.   I grab the old woman in my arms and trying to walk softly and quickly out of the room before they return. She’s not heavy and the distance isn’t far, but it seems like the longest journey of my life. This is why I write instead of participate. I reach the threshold as they come crashing through the room again. I don’t even think they noticed me. Jonah is busy covering himself with his wings as Ci-Ci shoots blood spikes at him. It looks like something out of a Saturday morning cartoon. With the woman safely in my car I contemplate on what to do next. Ci-Ci might be in some real danger, but she’s handling herself more than well. Then again, she looks tired, as if she’s not used to this kind of action, but Jonah looks like he does this every week. He might actually do this every week if he really specializes in dark magic.   “You need to go help her,” a voice says to me. “She needs help,” the voice gets louder. “And what do you expect me to do,” I ask the old woman who was clearly faking. “Just give her a distraction.” “How do you suppose I do that? Because you were playing sleeping beauty five minutes ago.” “I was acting. Sometimes when you get hit, it’s better to just stay down. What was I going to do against that boy,” the old woman acts as if I insulted her. “So what are we going to do?” “Take this and fire off a couple of shots,” she fiddles under her shirt for a few moments before producing a gun. “I’m clean boy,” she says in response to my face. “That’s just not right.” “Even a priestess needs protection,” she offers the gun again. “Whatever,” I move the gun around in my hands getting a feel for it. “You never seen a gun before boy?” “Never held one.” “Every boy over ten had a gun when I was growing up. Go shoot something.” I've never fired a gun before in my life, now I’m sneaking in to shoot a man I hardly know. I know he’s a killer, but can I shoot him? The gun felt warm in my hand when I took it, probably because it was nestled in the old lady’s bosom. It wasn’t as heavy as it is now, that’s probably nerves. I make my way into the house, trying to track the sound of violence to a single location. It doesn’t take long to find them trading blows inside the kitchen. It doesn’t take long before attention is drawn to me as an outside either. Ci-Ci is the first to notice me. It lets Jonah grip what look like talons on his hand into her side. She screams out in pain as he looks at me, still gripping her wondering what to do next. At this point, I’ve got no options left. I pull the trigger firing and missing Jonah’s head by a wide margin. He drops Ci-Ci to the ground and makes his way towards me with none of the same urgency he had earlier. I pull the trigger again, this time missing by a wider margin. I pull it again, the gun jerks erratically and lands a bullet directly in the center of his head. The crumpled shell crumbles to the ground as a small trail of blood appears from his head. “You should have gotten better help,” he says to Ci-Ci who is crawling in a pool of blood. “I’m not the help,” I try to sound cool as I fire off more wild shots. As we’re standing face to face, I can feel it, I can really feel the murderous intent coming from Jonah. I’m out of bullets, and I can’t fight him. I do the only thing I can do to throw him off guard. I lean forward and kiss him on the lip. Before he can respond with what I know will be pure rage a spike burst forth from his abdomen. Ci-Ci was able to impale him with the distraction. As Jonah falls to his knees in a steady stream of curses I grab Ci-Ci off the floor. Covered in blood she’s too slippery to carry. She wraps an arm around my neck and I help her limp from the home to my car. I always took care of my possessions, so I almost shed a tear as she covered my leather seats in blood, sweat and maybe even a few tears.

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