14

Martin sat with Charlie, sipping hot cocoa with a peppermint stick in it and munching Doritos. The fireplace crackled and the blizzard winds rattled the windows. No reception on the television, so they talked about life, school, teenagers and his chores.

“This year for our darkness project, I’d like to see the storeroom cleaned out, son. Let’s toss what we don’t need, get some of those plastic storage boxes Cassie got in, maybe get organized.”

Charlie groaned. “Oookay. Do I have to do it all myself? Can we get some help?”

“Who do you have in mind?” This was interesting. Charlie had so few friends and the delinquents he’d been hanging out with lately didn’t strike him as the kind of kids who cared much for hard work. The storeroom was an outbuilding as big as the house, and unfortunately loaded with trash, odd old things and furniture Martin was loathe to get rid of. “It’s a lot of work.”

“Ben’s strong, maybe Megan and some of the b-ball team … Tim and George are always game for stuff like this. I thought … maybe Laura too?”

“Laura? Laura Choven?” Laura Choven was Raven’s great-granddaughter. Pretty, very quiet and appropriate of course, her family dominating the Inuit traditionalist segment of the native community. Since when was Charlie interested in Laura?

“Yeah, Laura’s so cool, Pops. She gets good grades, doesn’t think I’m a nerd … at least not all the time. I kinda like her.”

“Like her? In what way?” Martin set his cocoa aside. Was his boy becoming a man? Why was he so surprised? All boys become men, some became more than men. He’d seen it, but with Arthur and Luc, he’d seen it in the mystic way. His relationship with Charlie was very different. Having full responsibility for the feeding, training and polishing of a loved child had blinded him to any glimpses into Charlie’s future, outside of the normal proud papa sort. He had actually done his best not to look for clues. Watching the vibrant, intelligent boy grow was too much of a joy to tarnish the experience with undisputed knowledge of his fate.

Charlie had grown silent.

“In what way do you like Laura Choven, Charlie?”

“Pops,” the boy groaned and hunkered uncomfortably deep into his seat. “You know.”

This was fun. “Do you like her like a … study partner?”

No answer came.

“Like a helping hand for cleaning the storeroom?”

Nothing.

“Like a … girlfriend?”

“Who would like me as a boyfriend?”

Martin blinked. The last thing he wished to instill in his boy was insecurity. “Why wouldn’t she? You’re a terrific young man, Charlie. It’s not a bad match.”

“Match! I’m not going to marry her. Sheesh!”

“Not today or next year or even the year after that … but in five years, it would be a very good match that I’d be proud to sanction. Have you asked her out on a date?” He knew Charlie hadn’t. The boy went to school, came home and studied. He hardly talked on the phone and during the summers he worked full time at the library. Martin was sure no romance ensued under the librarian’s watch.

“She wouldn’t go out with me. Her grandpa would never stand for it.”

“Why? She’s human. You’re human.” At least Martin hoped Charlie was human, prayed hard that Neave was wrong and the scales growing on Charlie’s flesh were a form of psoriasis as the nurse suspected. “And … she doesn’t think you’re a nerd … all the time.” He teased, desperate to release the pressure in his own chest.

“Let’s talk about something else.”

“All right. What would you like to talk about?”

“The old stuff in the storeroom … can I have it?”

“For what?”

“Well, the guys on the team wanted to have like ... I dunno … a clubhouse. A place to go hang out together.”

“And what would you all do in this clubhouse?”

“Forget it.”

Martin stiffened with concern. “No, Charlie. What would you do in your clubhouse?” Images of inebriated teenagers, swilling beer and breaking into Cassie’s for more, drifted in his mind and shook him to the core.

“Stuff. Pops, we just want a place. I mean seriously, we’re not little kids anymore … and we’re not men who have responsibilities yet. We just want a place of our own to be … well … us.”

Not unreasonable at all, and as Martin listened, he realized that for the first time ever, Charlie was a ‘we’ and not so all alone. Perhaps this was a good thing. It sat better on his conscience than letting the young ones all run off to places unknown … or God forbid, the caves … where no one could protect them. He wrinkled his brow then spoke with weight. “All right. But if you’re determined to have this clubhouse, everyone’s parents need to know about it, where it is and how it’s outfitted. No drugs or alcohol and adults need to make sure the structure is safe and suitable.”

“Oh, it is,” Charlie said with a big grin.

“You have a structure in mind?”

“Of course …” And he pointed out the window right at the outbuilding now serving as shelter for Martin’s old junk. “Can we use it? Please? We’ll build a wall to protect all the storage stuff you want to keep, even put a lock on the door!”

Like a padlock would keep a vampire, shifter or human juvenile delinquent out, thought Martin. But Charlie had presented not only a good argument for his cause, but the perfect solution for Martin’s concerns. This clubhouse would be close and under his supervision. He actually liked the idea, but he was silent for several moments, not willing to let Charlie think that getting what he wanted came too easily.

“You’ll need to get all the members for this club to come help do the work.”

“I can do that.”

“And they all need to bring their parents to see it when it’s finished.”

“Sure.”

“And … no girls in this clubhouse.”

Charlie scratched his arm for a moment then sighed.

“I mean it. No girls, or the deal’s off.”

“What if we want to have a party?”

“It’ll be chaperoned.”

The boy huffed then reached up and scratched his shoulder. “I guess so. Okay. I’ll tell the guys when I get back to school. When can I do that? I’m not sick anymore or anything, right?”

“You can probably get back after the storm ends,” Martin said, noticing that the winds had markedly calmed during their conversation. “And after we get that cream for your itchy patches. Let’s see that?”

He reached over and helped Charlie remove his shirt.

“Oh … shit!” cried the boy who suddenly looked into Martin’s face. “I mean, oh crap. It’s gotten worse.”

“No, my boy … oh shit just may be the correct expression.” The scales had spread to Charlie’s shoulders and almost all the way down to his elbows. The only blessing was that they were still slightly soft and pliable, still pale, just slightly greyer than his natural flesh tone.

“Let’s get that cream from the doc the minute the storm’s gone. This has to stop spreading, Pops! I’ll never get laid!”

Charlie’s face grew red and he turned away to replace his shirt. Under normal circumstances Martin would have had to hide a chuckle, but as it was, he had to hide his terror. “Maybe you should go get some rest, son. I’ll wake you for dinner.”

With Charlie in his room listening to too-loud rock and roll, Martin retired to the small space hidden behind the bookshelves in his bedroom. It was no bigger than a large closet, but the room held his altar, his book of spells, his most powerful potions and mystical stones. It was his place of peace and solitude and power. He sat in the silence and prayed for guidance, for Luc’s return and for Charlie’s future. Beyond the walls of his sanctuary, he could hear the storm accelerate again, howling through the town like a monster, blowing loose signs, trash cans and debris along the street and spewing another layer of icy snow over everything.

Sweat gathered on his brow as he sought the illusive energy to help him make the right choices. His hands trembled and all around him, the mystical stones and colorful potion filled vials vibrated softly in the candlelight, speaking, arguing, deliberating. A battle raged in his heart, peeling away the illusions he’d held so dear regarding Charlie and the life he shared with the boy. His mind turned and twisted this way and that, contradicted and complied, raged and silenced only to regain steam and wrestle again. He felt beaten, battered with each new wave, but sat still as stone and took it all. Every moment of torment led to the same place, a hellish place he never dreamed he’d face.

Finally Martin knew what was necessary, and hoping for Luc’s help or an idyllic solution to fall into his lap was not going to happen. He stood on wavering feet at his table and opened his ancient book, the pages brittle with age, the words whispering to him. There, entangled within his own powerful spells, was the history of how he created them, what they do, the consequences over time and most importantly, those circumstances he was not and would never be able to unravel with magic.

Hours passed, again the storm seemed to subside and Martin found himself sitting on his bed, too tired and worn to breathe without an aching pain in his heart. Worry would not change this. Fear and magic would have no impact. This was going to happen and there was only one way to prevent the inevitable.

He grunted to his feet and looked out the window. Under the streetlights, already the cleanup patrol had begun to gather the tossed pieces of loose trash and board up windows that did not weather the storm. This was his town, his home, his mission in life. With or without Luc he had to make the decision, and now that it was made, he had to follow through. He packed a bag and set it by the door then walked to the kitchen to prepare dinner. That night he and Charlie would leave on a very long journey, one he feared he would not survive but he had to try. This was his burden, his yoke to bear.

Somewhere between looking in the freezer and cupboards for menu ideas, a loud pounding came on the door.

“You have to help, Martin!” Cassie begged.

Martin blinked. “What’s happened?”

“The strangers … that muse and leprechaun, and the priest dude or whatever he is, they’ve arrested them. Billings said they’re accomplices to the kidnapping and murder. Good God, Martin, this is insane! They aren’t guilty of anything, I know it. I can feel it! You have to help. Please. Everyone’s gone nuts. They’ll listen to you, Elder.”

Martin looked back toward Charlie’s bedroom then at Cassie. There was a little time, but not much. Enough to straighten out Maxtla’s darkness-drunk townspeople until Luc returned.

Luc leaned forward on the crate and propped his elbows on his knees. His eyes rose to meet Gabriel’s. “I didn’t take you to Barrow because … tell me, what’s it like?”

“What’s what like?” Gabriel asked. “Being taken by a bunch of kids? Sort of embarrassing.”

“No. I have to know, Gabe. What’s it like to be … double-dead?” And at that moment, Luc d’Longville looked like a child filled with wonder.

“How do you even know about double-dead vampires?”

“As we traveled, Merlin and I came across a double-dead in what is now Holland. He lived in a small cottage far from everything and everyone. He said he’d met his final death weeks earlier, he was confused and alone. We already had several vampires with us by then and he wasn’t afraid to put us all up for the night. We talked for hours, me, Merlin and this remarkable double-dead.

“He begged to join us, come with us where ever we were going but we were afraid for him. Told him that too, tried to explain it to him but he actually offered to feed us his blood if we’d include him. I considered his offer seriously, thinking it could solve our nourishment issues while we traveled and even after we found a home, but Merlin is very wise. We left in the middle of the night. I have no idea how that double-dead managed. I think about him often.”

Gabriel cleared his throat and pushed hair from his face. “I thought about that for a while too. Sticking around. Letting you all feed from me, after all I’m an endless resource for your vamps, and in return I’d … well … I dunno.” Gabriel didn’t dare speak his darkest thoughts about ruling over them, about becoming a god among them. About having no responsibilities, just power. “Something about it seemed so attractive, you know? But then I came to my senses … I’ve got Dori … responsibilities. I need to … well … get back …”

“Tell me, Gabe. What’s it like?”

It was a fair question and time to attempt an answer. Gabriel thought for a long minute. “Strange. Difficult.” He shrugged. “Unexpected.”

“Where do you live?”

“I can’t tell you that.”

“Your driver’s license says Los Angeles.”

“Yeah, that’s what it says.”

“Who else is there with you?”

A groan escaped Gabriel’s chest then he grinned. “A muse and a leprechaun.”

“Who else? How many? How do they all live together?”

“Luc, I can’t tell you this stuff. There are rules, man.”

“But, you have a chance to earn a good hereafter. A chance at … redemption, right?”

“Yes … no … Luc, seriously, I can’t talk about this stuff. I’m sorry.”

The vampire was silent for a few moments then sighed. “But you have the chance so maybe when I end, I might get that chance too.”

Gabriel contemplated the vampire across from him, the man he was, the sheriff and father he was. Luc d’Longville was remarkable. He was unknowingly running a pre-purgatory community of his very own and running it better than Gabriel suspected he’d ever run the Los Angeles tank. “I will tell you this … if ever a vampire had a real shot at redemption, it’s you. You might actually skip the double-dead condition all together.”

Luc smiled sadly. “Maybe. Maybe not. You don’t really know me, Gabe. I sure as hell ain’t no angel. In fact, I’m not so sure any of it matters.” His next words were pained and poignant. “I’m pretty sure God has forgotten us.”

“No. I don’t think so. Vampire children? Luc? If that’s not a reward, what is? Besides, maybe I don’t know you all that well, but I do know what you’ve created, and that’s good. Your town is a … miracle.”

They sat quietly and listened to the silence. So much of Gabriel’s life he’d wondered about others, what they thought, what they did to get what they wanted, how they coped with adversity. No one faced challenges and hardship more than a vampire. He knew first hand the grueling sacrifices, hiding, running and fears. D’Longville had turned the hard stuff into practicing survival that took others into consideration. If he learned anything from the vampire sheriff, he’d be a far better leader if and when he ever got back to the tank.

“Let’s check on the weather,” Luc said with a sigh and stood. “Grab that lantern. No point in you falling all over the damn place.”

Outside the door, the vampire quickly stacked the rocks, tight as a mason, hiding the storage space completely. Gabriel followed him along the twisted caverns, noticing that they’d made several turns where the tunnels split. There was no way on earth he’d ever find his way without Luc. At the large cave, they looked in on the sleeping teens then continued to the exit.

No wind, no flying snow, only the bitter cold stillness and peace of an amazing Alaskan long, long night. The aurora borealis danced and glowed on the horizon and the black sky glittered with a billion stars.

“Wait here,” Luc said and with a swoop, soared high and out of sight.

Gabriel quickly zipped his coat, rubbed his arms then plunged his hands deep into his pockets. Just as he began to wonder how long he should wait, Luc returned with a whoosh.

“I’ve located both snowmobiles. I brought gas for yours.”

Gabriel raised his brow.

“You don’t think we leave fully-fueled vehicles around for anyone to joy ride, do you? I’ll gas yours and bring it back. You wake the incorrigibles. Tell them I’m on my way, that should keep them cooperative.”

“They’re not bad kids, Luc.”

“Nope, they’re teenagers … so be real careful. Don’t make me have to rescue you, Gabe.” He chuckled and again disappeared.

Clovely was tossed so hard back into the cell, he bounced once then landed right in Carson’s lap. Scrambling off, they watched poor Dori be taken for interrogation. “Man, I hope they go easy on her.”

“What’s your take on the situation?”

“You want my opinion?” No one ever asked Clovely’s opinion. He always had to push his way into any decision-making situation to be heard. He blamed his height – they all looked right over his head and never considered the ideas inside that head.

“Of course. What do you think?”

He blinked. Huffed. Great, now that someone asked, the leprechaun who wanted to be a lion had no ideas whatsoever. “Uh …”

“Do you think Gabriel kidnapped those kids?”

“Hell, no.”

“Killed the vampire sheriff?”

“Of course not!” Clovely was on his feet, pointing a stubby finger right at Carson’s nose. “You know he didn’t! You know everything, don’t you?”

Carson patted the floor at his side and grinned. “Sit and I’ll tell you what I know … if you think you can handle it, leprechaun.”

“I can handle anything.” The little man seethed then sat and blinked, his mind racing. Carson obviously had a plan. “What’d’ya have in mind, Soul Eater?”

Carson stretched his legs out long on the floor and crossed them at the ankles. “As you know, my job is to collect people’s sins. That’s not so hard. In fact, when I’m dressed in this … attire … most people are happy to list their indiscretions, some even invent infractions just to make it juicier. My issue isn’t usually with getting the sins … it’s convincing the sinner that it’s time to make their confession.”

“So, you know when people are going to die?”

Carson nodded.

The leprechaun’s heart climbed to his throat. “Am I about to die?” He held his breath.

“Clovely, you’re already dead.”

“Oh, right. Go on.”

“I strongly sense that something is in this little town that has the power to destroy everything and everyone in it. It’s just that at this point, I don’t clearly know what it is.”

Clovely squinted at his cellmate. “Wait. You know everything. Know when people are lying to you, what they’re thinking, when they’re going to kick the bucket and you’re trying to tell me there’s something here in North Bumfuck Alaska that you don’t clearly know yet?”

“Exactly, and whatever this being is, it comes from a lineage older than time. And …”

“And what?” Clovely wasn’t sure he wanted to know.

“And that being has not only the power to destroy everything in this town and everything on the planet … but … it has the power to destroy me.” He turned to look directly into Clovely’s eyes.

“You?” Clovely was on his feet, pacing. “Holy shit. But wait.” The lep’s quick mind put two and two together. “That means that you too need to confess if you’re about to die. Are you about to … end?”

“Oh the blessing that would be, but truthfully, I have no clue. You are correct though, without confessing my sins, I will never walk safely into the after world.”

“So, confess, already.”

“There’s nobody for me to confess to. I am the last of my goddess’ minions. It’s beside the point anyway.”

Clovely thought hard then grinned, proud to have come up with a great solution. “Gabriel. He’s the perfect dude to help you with that. Confess your sins when he gets back and we can get on with saving ourselves. There, problem solved.”

“Gabriel? Out of the question.”

“Why? He’s a good guy, he’ll be happy to – ”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Easy. Gabriel is, as you said, a nice guy. Whoever hears my sins is doomed to take over for me. My confessor will be committed to live my tedious life and serve my goddess and frankly, she’s a pain in the ass, so it’s out of the question. I couldn’t do that to him. It doesn’t matter, like I said, it’s beside the point.”

“No, hold on a minute, let’s stick to the point just a little longer.”

Carson rolled his eyes.

“So you’re saying that whoever hears your sins before you bite the bullet takes over for you? Carson, it sounds like a dream job to me.” And it did. If there was one thing Feever Clovely feared more than anything, it was facing judgment. He didn’t wonder if he’d go to hell, he was sure of it. Why he was permitted to continue for so long in purgatory was beyond his comprehension. He’d done nothing more than exercise his own ego since the moment he arrived. Was God blind? Or did he just enjoy punishing the leprechaun by making him live in the tank before feeding him to the devil for the rest of all time?

“Get with the program, Clovely. I need you to help me figure out what this mysterious, dangerous being is and when it’ll strike.”

“But hey, it wouldn’t hurt to be prepared. I’ll hear your confession.” He said hopefully and actually crossed his fingers. Anything that would get him out of the system and further from hell was one fantastic opportunity in Clovely’s eyes. To never worry about facing the devil was all the redemption he wanted. But there was a glitch. If he became the only living Soul Eater, who’d hear his confession when his time came? Maybe his plan required some critical tweaking. Maybe he should gain a little more understanding of what he was asking for before leaping onto a new train. “Uh … Carson … what do you mean when you say this being can end you?”

“You aren’t going to help me. I’m finished with this conversation.” Carson closed his eyes.

“How can you … end?”

“Why, so you can do the do?”

The lep poked Carson’s shoulder. “Of course not. I may be a slimy, unscrupulous person, but killing isn’t my thing.”

Carson remained silent so Clovely chose another route. “Okay, tell me what you know about this being. Maybe there’s something I learned from my ancestors that can help.”

One eye opened and the Soul Eater appeared to be sizing him up so the lep put on his most sincere face.

“Honestly, leprechauns have a fantastic oral history and we’re all forced to commit it to memory. I might be able to help identify the thing.”

Again Carson closed his eyes. “Just be quiet while I think.”

Moments passed and Carson looked as peaceful as death so Clovely huffed and readied to close his eyes too. A little sleep couldn’t hurt. But …

“Uh … Carson.”

“What?”

“Company.”