This is a work of fiction
Warning: adult themes, graphic detail, smoking, alcohol use, substance abuse, violence
Time and location unknown
Date unknown
For a week, at least, Frank had been in and out of consciousness. It was always dark, but not the kind of dark he had been suspended in. He was on his back, blankets piled on him. He was sweating, but cozy and comfortable.
Somewhere near his feet, off to the left, a red glass lamp glowed, an antique almost exclusive to the south.
His body gradually began to filter pain in, a little bit at a time, always promising more to come. He was also sore in what felt like every muscle group.
Then he felt the urgency of a full bladder and the need to relieve it.
Slowly he sat up, groaning as his back creaked with resolute resistance.
Slowly and with ridiculous weakness, he turned to his right, lifting heavy quilts and blankets away until his feet touched a cold floor. This wasn’t a hospital; the floor was concrete.
But the urethral catheter…how did he have one of those if he wasn’t in the hospital?
“Hey,” a voice said in the dim light, “Take it easy, you’re going to get dizzy and fall!” The exclamation was delivered in a whisper but still carried the warning quite clearly. “You’ve been out for a long time.” A rush in the dark, strong hands supported him under his armpits. “Let me get that catheter out first, then you can go. The IV is already out. I’ll help you to the bathroom.”
Once the catheter was out, a steady stream of urine came immediately gushing behind it and Frank couldn’t control it. “It’s okay, Frank. Don’t worry about it.” But his guide still kept him moving to a small room with a white light.
The nurse, or whatever she was, helped him wash at the sink; a bed bath standing up.
He was hurting so badly that a woman washing his pits and penis didn’t bother him.
Protectors of the Earth
When he was led back out, still nude, he saw her. He stopped, his mouth open with horror. Randi Ghas was making his bed, changing the linens. “Hello, Sleeping Beauty,” she smiled. “You had me worried.”
As he was helped into a fresh gown, Frank was given a situation report. He was in a large basement, and outside, through a window the size of one in an oven, he saw the light of a sunset. He never understood why, but he could always tell the difference between the glow from a sunset and a sunrise. They were very different.
He looked back at Randi, more beautiful than he remembered, and sensed only a gentleness from her. Was this really what attacked him, or just a woman?
As if she had heard his thoughts, Randi said softly, “it wasn’t me. I was hurt that you thought that, but I understood it. Dealing with the supernatural isn’t easy.”
When he was settled into bed again and a man in scrubs mopped the floor, Randi, clothed in black robes, a rosary chain and beads around her neck, explained, “I tried to tell you it was a shapeshifter. It isn’t a striga, though. We know your doctor. We know lots of doctors. This is the first time one has ever resorted to calling us in. He really thinks a striga was after you but he’s wrong. It is much worse than that.
“Frank, we did have dinner together that night, but you drove me home and dropped me off. We didn’t sleep together. Our enemy took over your mind. That’s what almost killed you. At any time afterwards, or when you were in your doctor’s office, did you notice any kind of insect?”
“It’s almost dark. Tonight is Halloween, the last night we can catch it and kill it. I hoped you would be able to come with us, but you’re too weak.”
And he did; he was sweating, his eyes were in and out of focus, and doing scary things to her image.
Outside the window, as if from a fair distance, a truck’s air horn sounded: a bugle signaling the beginning of a battle.
Randi said, “your horn man is calling us out.” She sounded frightened.
“Of course I’m coming with you. Just give me some clothes and my gun and lead the way.”
“Frank, it’s Halloween. Don’t you know how long you’ve been out? And before that you were in a coma. You almost died.“
Frank said, “I don’t care if I have to crawl, I’m coming.”
She turned to a woman who had been sitting quietly in a dark corner of the room and asked, “Mother Superior?”
Frank had a rush of confidence and the feeling of strength. The nun was powerful in her faith. “Go ahead. He’s old and he’s very weak right now, but it will work just the same.”
Randi sat back down on the edge of the bed. From the stand beside it, she picked up gloves, donned them, then quickly swabbed his upper right arm with an alcohol pad and just as quickly jabbed a syringe into the muscle. He felt like a lump of fire had been deposited there; he winced while the nurse and Randi stripped him of his gown and put his feet into a pair of blue jeans and drew them up. As they continued to dress him, his body began to jerk uncontrollably, the fire spreading throughout his bloodstream. He groaned in pain and begged for water. They were lacing up trekking boots then they sat him up. A T-shirt and pullover sweatshirt followed, and he was lifted up again. A cowboy-style gun belt and holster was tightened to his waist. The long handgun required a long holster which had a leather thong that had to be tied to his leg. He pulled the pistol and marveled at it. 1896 Colt, very rare, a .45 with a ten-inch barrel, a subdued black model that, if it had ever been fired, had not been so used very many times. He spun the cylinder and it was loaded, six huge bullets of death.
“Shouldn’t I get a Stetson, too,” he joked. He was handed a black watch cap. The joke was ignored.
He thought hard because her tone told him it was important. “Anything at all, Frank. Maybe you heard a sound?”
He had heard something!
“Like a dragonfly I couldn’t see. Funny sound.”
Randi looked at the elderly nun. A knowing exchange.
“Franklin,”the nun asked, “What do you think of faeries?”
Frank let out a snort of laughter.
“Don’t laugh,” Randi warned darkly, her voice low.
“I don’t know. I thought they were a myth.” His mouth was as dry as the desert. He asked again for water and the nurse poured him a glass full.
“On the contrary. For eons, people have reported bizarre creatures they encountered in the wood and forest regions from Ireland to the Baltic, and usually the stories told end badly. Reports of missing time, being trapped, harmed, or witnessing the death of a traveling companion at the hands of various species of the Fae. Some can change appearance, even to human form. Anything they wish. Others are limited to animal forms, and the benign fairies cannot or refuse to change. Those avoid contact with humans at all costs, including hiding while their land is disturbed and exploited by men. They die because their dwelling places take generations, that is to say, centuries, to build. Their babies die without shelter. Yet, none have ever been rumored to seek revenge.
It’s said that the last survivor of a camp can, if she wishes, pray to become human, and if permission is granted by God, they emerge as beautiful human1 women, ready to marry and have children. Her descendants can, if they wish, return to the fae. But it takes decades. Do you believe this?”
“I do, Mother. Now that I’m purely terrified, would you mind telling me what you shot me up with? I feel…weird.”
“I will never tell you. Suffice it to say that you will be highly resistant to their mental attacks and therefore can expose yourself to fight them as you wish. You–we–must be quick, however; the serum is secret, so I’ve never allowed a half-life analysis.”
“And you know all this because you’re one of them.”
Randi gasped. “How did you figure out so quickly?”
“I meant to say you’re all, all three of you, fae. As you put it. You left them to become human and now it’s too late for you to change back.”
“Perceptive, Franklin,” the mother said, “but not exactly correct. Our court left the fae behind centuries before the Romans invaded England. We are the protectors of the Earth. We have always worked, even fought, to keep a balance of nature, mankind and the creatures of legend, to prevent the destruction of any one of them. Humans for the most part mistreat the planet, while fairies mistreat humans, and the few humans who knew, killed every eldrich being they encountered. The work never ends. If humans ever had proof of all creatures around them, they would kill with abandon, while fairies rarely go rogue and kill. They are punished, but you know as well as I that this would not be justice in the mind of any human. They would wipe my kind out. During the bombings of Britain and Europe in World War Two, so many of us were killed that entire bloodlines died out. Yet we did not retaliate because it was understood to be a war that unintentionally harmed our kind. We have a code of ethics that prevents us from taking revenge for accidental deaths.”
“Enough. Just tell me where we’re going and what to do.” Frank had a sick headache.
“We’re not going anywhere. They’re coming. And in a few minutes the serum will finish changing your DNA, and whatever gifts you receive, you’ll know how to use them, so let us go outside and stand our ground.”
He had a moment with Randi as they waited and the air horn grew louder.
“I’m sorry, Frank,” she said. When you came to me for advice, I took all of one hour to realize I was falling in love with you. I thought I could protect you. I’m sorry I didn’t. If you really love me, then forgive me and we will get through this because nothing is more strong than love.”
“Oh, you already know that I love you. I know you do. And we’re gonna kick ass. I feel like I can take on an army.”
Ahead, there was a two lane steel arch bridge, but Frank had never been here or seen it before. Beyond it, there was darkness; no streetlights pierced the void, yet he could see something. Something was moving and the horn grew ever more loud.
“Get ready,” said the mother, returning from scouting the area. “It’s all clear,” she said, but was instantly proven wrong when a giant owl with a fifteen foot wingspan swept down and closed its giant talons around her head, tearing her neck. She died just like that, her eyes rolling back into her fractured skull.
The nurse threw something at the owl, whose eyes glowed angry red, and blue light hit its breast. Frank drew the Colt, pulled the hammer back and fired. The recoil was too much and the gun flew back, the hammer hitting his forehead. He felt blood running down his face, but the owl wasn’t dead. It was hit, a hole in its breast, and the nurse’s blue light had dazed it. He fired again, ready for the recoil, and the head shot dropped the bird, which fell to the gravel lot they were on, its wings spread wide, the body face down with the head mostly gone.T
He air horn stopped. A tractor without a trailer had pulled to a stop ten yards away. Air brakes hissed, the door opened, and a man stepped down. Still shrouded in darkness, he said, “We meet again, Kallia,” using her fae name. He dripped with hatred. He projected it so strongly that she was off balance. “You remember me. I’m the one cast out of our court by your deciding vote. Banished, made homeless and powerless, having to kill men for survival, for sustenance. And you three have killed my mate. She only attacked your mother superior because she wanted to protect me. Must this go on? I was living in filth and yet people had to disturb our solitude, our peace.”
Frank looked down at the owl. A woman’s body lay there instead, its head nearly gone, surrounded by blood. “They’ll come for you now,” Randi said. They know you’re killing humans now. They’ll condemn you. And you ask why it continues.” She shook her head. The nurse held out her hands. A sizzling, electric green bolt of lightning shot at him, striking him down, but in a minute, he was back on his feet. He shot her with some type of weapon Frank couldn’t see, and she was torn by double-aught buckshot, blood flying in every direction. She dropped heavily, dead before she hit the gravel.
“You cursed demon!” She whispered to Frank, “Ready?’
He nodded, and as the mother superior had said he would, he knew exactly what to do. They both ignored the five county police cars skidding to a stop right beside them and at once they both concentrated on the horn man and he simply blew apart, exploding with a loud concussion, leaving only pieces that made splattering plops when they hit the ground.
Drained, Frank fell to his knees and Timothy Cobb ran up, asking if he was okay. Randi began to tell the officers what had happened when suddenly Frank began to shrink!
Frank felt it happening and knew what it meant. That damned injection. It was never temporary. In agony, pain everywhere in his body, his back was torn open. Wetness ran down the crack between his glutes and then his legs, and his wings emerged. Still shrinking, he begged Cobb, “Shoot me!”
All of the officers were now staring, horrified and unable to move. But Cobb could move. He didn’t have to think. He didn’t have time to ask questions. He drew his Glock and fired twice into the child-size torso, and the shrinking process stopped. Frank lay still, blood pooling around him, his dragonfly wings also unmoving but sickening to behold.
The woman who looked goth laughed at him. Cobb turned quickly, lined up the target and fired three quick shots. She vanished, leaving behind laughter that echoed as it rose above them, the sound of insect wings going with her.
When Cobb looked back down at his friend’s body, it had been returned to normal size, without the wings.
He was dead.
Memoirs of an American Asshole 