This is Episode 6-11 of a serial urban fantasy & paranormal story.

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Part 6-11: Solitude

I curled into a comma shape, and summoned the polearm for Fergus. I don’t know why I didn’t bring the rapier too. Maybe because I thought it was only mine.

Fergus stretched out onto the bed too, both of us close, near the middle of the fabric expanse. He held the weapon low down on its handle, poking at the top of the canopy with its point, like a boy with a stick at a fire.

“Don’t fall asleep without waking me,” I cautioned, then immediately felt foolish for lecturing him. Like I was an authority on Fort Ticktock’s perils. He’d been there nearly as much as I had.

“If your eyes are closed, mine are open,” he said. “Promise.”

“Okay,” I said, not knowing what else to say. I meant to move closer to him, maybe to show gratitude, trust, whatever, but the exhaustion lost its last dregs of patience and pooled through me like water from a burst dam.
 

 
I was out for a while, not sure how long. I stirred, climbing peacefully out of a forgotten dream, thinking I was in my own bed. My first panicked thought wasn’t about paranormal emergencies, but rather that my sister was around, in charge of pets, and probably pissed that I’d not answered her dozens of texts or calls.

Then the soundlessness of Fort Ticktock then hit me. A second later my eyes caught up, followed by the rest of my brain a moment later.

“Augh, we’re paused in the fort, aren’t we?” I asked, holding onto a sliver of hope that every single thing since meeting Willy in a cafe had been some wild, vivid fever dream.

“Oh yeah, ‘fraid so ma’am,” said Fergus.

“Fuck,” I said, without much venom. I felt nice and rested, minus the pressing need to pee. I excused myself and went all over the top of The Jailer’s staircase, wondering if my urine was real or not in this place.

When I returned to the bed, Fergus was barely holding on. I rubbed his head and told him to snooze away. He relaxed and was asleep in a heartbeat.

Assuming he was going to snooze for a good long time, I was now faced with the opportunity to reflect on all the things—my first real chance to check in with myself.

Choices. Who to try the lesson on? Deluxe, my sister? Who else? Evil Agent Lady? Eden said you had to have intimacy, shared memory, a willing target. Maybe Persi, to try and see what might be under her golden glow.

Questions. Did I trust, in any way, what my enemies had promised about their intent? Were they legitimately stranded aliens of some sort? I wished Fergus was awake to talk about it.

Temptation. Every turn in this nutty campaign might result in my death. An elevator shaft had nearly done the job, Eden had taken a fair few stabs... and here I was with near infinite time, a big bed, a guy in the same desperate straits...

Resolve. My best friend, Fergus’ best friend, both counting on me to stay focused and figure this shit out. Who knows how many more souls relied on us as well. The Walkerby family certainly had.

Doubt. I’d learned so much and done so much. But I’d also messed up so bad. Roman, an innocent man who had been called in as a favour, dead and forever unburied because of my arrogance. Who else would I make pay?

I rode the merry-go-round of my thoughts, each rotation seeming to get more and more intense. Any serenity gained from rest was dashed against inner turmoil, oscillating between indecision and curiosity and horniness and guilt and confusion.

Eventually, I had to get up and pace, losing my concentration in the fuzzy landscapes beyond the castle walls, studying the fractured and unfamiliar constellations above.

“Alena?” said Fergus, after some wretched stretch of solitude. I should have let him sleep first. Why was he so selfless?

I stormed to the bed, wanting to be angry but knowing that was wrong. The white book lay on the sheets.

“Have a pee and let’s go,” I said, voice shaky with the marinade of emotion.

“I’m okay, how do you feel?”

Selfless motherfucker. Why was he worried about me? I couldn’t process it. Who was this guy? A bunch of decisions erupted all at once, one big ass executive decision.

I flipped the book open, decided to give the demons a fair chance, knew who I was going to mind-jack, committed to believe in myself, and grabbed Fergus by the scruff of his neck and locked our lips for about as twice as long as a movie scene should allow for.

Breathless, I broke away, blew air in his blinking face with a wink (no idea what I meant to convey), then took us out of the devil’s fantasy world and into our own deranged reality.
 

 
The agents wasted no time in reminding me what gritty realism was all about. The sting and bite from my slide into the ground blended nicely with being roughhoused into handcuffs. I got to have more Me Time too, what with the black bag thrown over my head. I did not get priority seating in the vehicle either: the floor they tossed me in was cold, hard metal.

As soon as things settled and we seemed to be on our way to a maximum security death camp, I slipped out of the near useless shell of my flesh ‘n’ bones and tried to get a sense of the situation.

 

 

Continued in Part 6-12

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