Stubborn Mule, page 3
And yet, for all this, life had been the sweetest I could remember. We played board games by candlelight, and often hung out in the garden until it was dark, sitting around a fire as the evenings had turned so cold it felt like winter. We laughed, we joked, we threw the ball for Woofer, and we got in the best shape of our lives as we tried to keep up with Jen's training. Mawr visited regularly, even Peth made an effort, but all the while she pursued her tunnel vision goal of bringing potions to the masses, and along with it an acceptance of this thing regular people called magic.
She was unstoppable, and it was beyond concerning, yet I had to admit that I understood where she was coming from, that maybe her way was the only way, and begrudgingly admit that anything was sweeter than what we had now. If there was even a chance it could allow my daughter to be herself, then it was worth it. But at what short-term cost? Already there were numerous reports of murders, of fights and angry confrontation between Peth and her sisters and those she tried to sell potions to and convince that magic was real. It's not an easy thing for anyone to accept, especially when your ailments can apparently be washed away if you drink some crappy tasting liquid in a bottle sold by a hag wearing a tie-dye dress.
"Right, that's it," Phage snapped. "I've had enough and I need to know Jen's okay." Phage stepped to the cupboard and snatched up the matchbox we never knew what to do with or where to put.
"What are you doing?"
"I'm getting answers. This has gone on long enough. Malka will know where she is."
"It's a waste of time. She isn't going to wake up just because you want her to. You know what she's like. She does as she pleases."
"You're wrong. This is Jen we're talking about. Malka isn't here for us, she's here for her. And besides, she hasn't dealt with a worried mother before. I'll do whatever it takes to get her to talk."
With a shrug, I stepped over to Phage and peered at the matchbox as she slid the lid open.
"Where is she?" gasped Phage.
"Bloody hell, this is all we need," I sighed.
Mr. Wonderful sauntered into the den, not a care in the world. "This small room is mine. That rubbish sofa is mine. That chair is mine. I own that door. That man and woman are mine, but they don't know that. I own—"
"Did you eat Malka?" Phage accused, pointing at a startled Mr. Wonderful.
Our darling cat paused in his ownership monologue and lifted a lazy head to stare at Phage blankly.
"Well, did you?" she snapped.
Mr. Wonderful turned his steely blue eyes until they settled on me and casually asked, "Does she want me to answer? Because she can't understand me, can she?"
"No, she can't. Just Woofer and Tyr. But I would still answer if I were you. Just in case."
Amazingly, the usually semi-comatose cat looked almost scared as he turned back to Phage. She was eyeballing him so hard I feared he'd combust, but he held his ground, kept his cool, and shook his head. "I did not eat that dormouse. I haven't seen it for years. She's mean anyway. She told me off last time I tried to eat her." Mr. Wonderful padded out of the room, but didn't claim anything as he left. He was actually a little frightened, which was good to know.
"Well?" Phage demanded.
"Um, he says he hasn't seen her for years, and he definitely didn't eat her."
"Then where is she?"
"Honey, I don't know. Maybe she's…"
"With Jen! Oh no. That's it, isn't it? They're together doing who knows what. This is unacceptable. She can't go off with that stupid faery again. Remember what happened last time?"
"Of course I do. They were gone mere moments, but for Jen it was months in the land of the fae. She was so different because of it. How long will their trip be if they've been gone for weeks for us? Years? Decades? What a mess."
"She better not have taken her away again," Phage hissed, glaring at me like it was my fault.
"Hey, I'm with you on this. We both agreed Jen and Tyr could take a break, but they said it would be just a few days, not weeks. But they sent word, so we know they're safe. I'm sure it's nothing. Malka might not even be with them."
"You don't believe that."
"No, I don't," I admitted, slumping into the chair, more stressed than ever.
"Four years, Soph. Four years then our baby will get her note. We'll have to call her by a different name. I can't stand it."
"Then let me try. Maybe refusing the notes and finally letting this come to a conclusion will change everything. What have we got to lose?"
"Everything." Phage sat across my lap, both of us needing the comfort. "We have everything to lose."
"But maybe we have everything to gain, too. And don't stress about Jen. Tyr won't let her come to any harm. One thing he excels at is looking after his friends. He loves Jen more than anything else in this world or any other. He'll protect her no matter what. And Malka may be a peculiar sort, but she said herself that she's here to watch over us. It might not seem like it at times, but the fae take their responsibilities very seriously."
"Oh yes, like hiding away for millennia when you're Queen? That's not facing up to responsibility."
"You have a point," I conceded, then kissed Phage gently on the lips and asked, "So, what's for dinner?"
Phage brightened as she shook her head and laughed. "Aha, you'll just have to wait and see. Something different, something fun. I wish Jen could be here, but it's her loss."
"It's not a surprise party is it? You know I hate stuff like that. Stuck talking to people I don't like for hours on end is my idea of hell. It's worse when they're at our house, as I can't just leave. You have to put up with them until they bugger off."
"No, I have not invited a load of nosy people. No surprise party. But it will be a fun evening. Rest up, or go do some gardening, or check on the animals or something, and we'll have a great meal." Phage hopped from my lap, but at the door she turned and asked, "Jen will be okay, won't she?"
"She'll be fine. Don't worry about her."
Phage smiled weakly, then left with a nod.
I glanced at the matchbox, then snapped the lid closed and threw it onto a side table. Anything could have happened to Jen, and although I knew Tyr would do whatever he could to protect her, and was nigh on immortal now, it didn't mean there weren't forces out there that could destroy them in a heartbeat. Malka's motives weren't clear either, and it was impossible to fathom what her true purpose here was. Maybe she truly did care for us and would safeguard Jen, but then again, maybe not.
Knowing I'd mope and worry if I didn't have something to occupy my time, and not in the mood for a doze even though it was tempting, I decided to visit the zoo and check on everyone properly. It always brought me immense satisfaction to know we offered a home and protection for those in need, and although the number of animals we cared for hadn't increased much in recent years, there were still many creatures that relied on us. It went beyond food and board—many were in dire need of mental support too when they either arrived or I discovered them. Some were still borderline clinically insane if such classifications existed for animals, and it was important to offer comfort regularly and have a chat to remind them they were in a safe place.
I steeled myself for the heat, then went outside and wandered down the garden and began to check in on everyone.
The main barn was a riot of noise and smells, as familiar as my own home. Straw, and other bedding was never in short supply and it provided incredible fertility for the gardens and vegetable plots, but sourcing food for them had become increasingly difficult over the years. Luckily, up here near the border, several farming co-ops specialized in animal feed, a booming industry now more people than ever struggled to feed their families, and the prices were reasonable so nobody here was going to go hungry.
"Hey Frank, how are things? You staying out of trouble?"
The miniature horse hopped up several bales of straw until he was at chest height, then neighed noisily and said, "Only because I can't find any." A cheesy grin revealed a fine set of teeth as he flicked an ear. "I've been exploring. It's nice around here. Plenty of Necro animals in the wilds, but nobody quite like me. I need a sexy lady friend."
"You always say that, and I always remind you that I'm trying. But horses of your stature are very rare. You're kind of unique. Very special."
"Sometimes I wish I wasn't quite so special. A guy has needs. Know what I mean?"
"I know exactly what you mean," I shuddered, "but it never seems to stop you. Remember that time I caught you with that Shetland Pony, or the time you were in the field with Patsy the miniature Cob? You were doing alright."
"Ah, yeah, those were the days. Maybe I'll go pay a few of the ladies a visit." Frank cackled nastily. He'd always been a dirty old horse, never mind he could stand in the palm of my hand. Quite how he managed to get so intimate with the ladies was something I tried not to dwell on; there was enough to cause me sleepless nights as it was.
"Everything good? You need anything?"
"No thanks. I have everything I need right here."
"Great." I nodded, then continued down along the row of stalls, checking on everyone.
Some slept, others were chatting, many were rather subdued because of the heat. And there were a number of animals that had spoken only a few words in years, even though they were true Necros and could communicate freely with me if they wished. Such is the nature of all animals, the same as people. It didn't matter. They had a home regardless.
"Brian, how you doing, mate?" I asked the burly bear sitting on his backside, a hunk of meat held tight in strong paws. The claws dug deep into the red flesh, as if he was worried it might be taken from him.
"Brian can keep food?" he growled, the nervous undertone obvious.
"Of course. It's yours. Nobody will take it from you. I've told you so many times, we don't do things like that here."
"And Brian not have to dance? Not fight?"
"No, you don't do that anymore and haven't for years. You're safe. We're friends."
"Brian happy."
"I'm glad. You do what you want here, as long as you don't hurt anyone. Remember? No wandering off on your own, but apart from that your life is yours to live. All we ask is you never leave the property, but that's it."
"Brian is good?"
"Yes, very," I told him patiently.
"Soph is nice man."
"Thank you. And you're nice too."
Brian looked down at his food again, then simply forgot I was there and continued to eat. He'd been with me for three decades, yet still hadn't recovered from the ordeal he'd been through, and I suspected he never would. Made to perform for food and a bed, he'd been badly mistreated until the fight had been beaten out of him and he was left with PTSD of the most extreme kind. It took years to get a word out of him, and he'd cower every time we visited him. But with patience, of which I had much when needed, and love, and understanding, he gradually came out of his shell.
But some things can never be wiped from your memory, even if you don't consciously think about them or even remember. Cruelty can leave an indelible mark on the psyche, and for many poor creatures, humans too, there is no way to eradicate those scars.
Deep sadness arose within me, anger too, at what we were capable of. It was disgusting, and I disgusted myself because of the things I'd done over the years, the barbaric acts I'd committed, and yet I knew enough about myself, and admitted it freely, that I wasn't traumatized to a degree that left me unable to do it again. I would survive, and never be beaten down like Brian. Maybe coming here had strengthened my resolve. Determined to never be cowed by another, to never let myself feel inferior or worthless. That I was as valuable as any other, and I would never succumb to the cruelty this world had a seemingly endless supply of to dole out to those not capable of standing up for themselves.
I would not be broken. I'd come close many times, very close, but my resolve was harder than ever these days. Often, I was arrogant, filled with a confidence I sometimes wondered where it came from, other times understanding it came from somewhere deep inside that knew this was a fucking shitshow and nobody deserved more than any other. We all had as much right to wallow in the filth as the next guy.
Suitably depressed, I shook it off, reminding myself that looking after those like Brian was a good thing. A rally against the depravity, the darkness of people's hearts, and there was good in the world, maybe even salvation. Although, I accepted I was beyond saving, and had been for centuries.
"I'll go visit Job," I told myself. "Nothing like chatting with your grumpy neighbor to boost your mood." I hadn't seen him or Shae for a few weeks, so popping over to say hello would be nice.
SLAUGHTERHOUSE BLUES
We owed Job and Shae, his wife, so much. Job had always been a great neighbor, albeit a surly one, but it was he and Shae that finally convinced Phage we had to move on. It was as much a relief for Shae as for me and Phage, as she too could finally put the pretense of aging behind her and reveal her true, much younger-looking self now we had a new start.
The home he'd bought us was amazing, and Sanctuary was just what Jen needed. But it went beyond that. They were family. We loved them both dearly, and since we moved the two properties had become almost one. We were forever popping in and out of each other's houses, eating together, swapping stories, sharing the ups and downs, the pain, suffering, and happy times.
But for the last year, things had been harder for everyone, and we hadn't seen as much of them since our lax attitudes to security had changed. Not through any desire for privacy, although Job did have a habit of turning up at the most inconvenient of times, but because of the state of the world at large. After Jen witnessed us dealing with an intruder in a very grisly way, we were more mindful of locking doors, keeping windows secure, and ensuring nobody came onto the property we didn't know. Job and Shae had several break-ins, a few thefts, and several chancers trying to get the better of them. We'd had several more attempted robberies too, and I'd had to beat on a group of guys so bad that I'd be surprised if they'd lived out the week, and that was only because I was being sympathetic.
The world was in turmoil, people were desperate, and being out in the sticks did not guarantee safety or a quiet life. The mean, the desperate, the opportunistic, those who couldn't be bothered to look after themselves by hard work, all tried to take what wasn't theirs from others. They picked the wrong people to mess with, and paid the price, but it put a hopefully temporary halt to the more open door policy we'd enjoyed when we first moved here. Sure, our back doors were always open, but Mawr and Peth had both put their own magical stamps on both properties, ensuring nobody we didn't know could ever enter. Didn't stop idiots trying to raid the orchards or vegetable plots though, and it had become a real problem.
Time to pay my grumpy neighbor a visit and see what he'd been up to.
At the bottom of the garden I went through the gate that connected both properties, enjoying the wild meadows on either side of the fence line Phage and I had planted when we first arrived. It reminded us of the old place, but this time it had more sunny colors thanks to the yellow rattle that had helped eradicate the grass and allow the poppies and numerous native plants to thrive in the harsh, dry conditions they preferred.
I strolled through the glorious rainbow of colors, Woofer yapping happily as he bounded, ears flapping, teeth flashing white, reveling in the glory of nature at its finest.
All my cares and worries slipped away as I let myself sink into the present and simply enjoy the fruits of our labors, thankful for what we had when so many were stuck in looted towns where fires raged and the populace were constantly on the verge of violence. We had space, we had freedom, we had a helluva lot to be grateful for.
Emerging from the meadow with Woofer by my side, he immediately halted, whining mournfully as his ears cocked.
"What is it, boy?" I asked.
"Woofer smell blood. Of man. Not like it. Is bad."
"Is there danger? Is everyone okay?" I asked, Necrosenses on full alert.
"Woofer not know. Not smell danger, just blood."
"Job's or Shae's?"
"No, is stranger. Friends not hurt. Will check."
Before I could stop him, Woofer morphed. I hated when he did it, couldn't imagine a life without him by my side, and every time he did this I got stressed. Woofer was too gentle a soul to fully understand the evil in the world, and although he had seen so much, been involved in more than any other dog on the planet most likely, he was forever an innocent.
A moment later he was back, no ill-effects from his morph. "Shae in kitchen. Is fine. Job is there." Woofer pointed with his nose so we hurried forward, emerging from a dense orchard of mature apple trees to find Job sweating in the shade at a thick wooden bench he used to process the animals he raised for meat. Something I found impossible to do because of the creatures living with us. Luckily, Tyr loved to hunt, and was willing to help me supply the zoo.
Woofer whined as we watched from a distance, then I asked him, "Do you want to go home? This won't be fun."
"Woofer want to check on Phage. Have rest," he said hurriedly.
"You do that. I'll see you later. Everything is okay here, but thank you for checking." I rubbed his ears and let my sense of calm envelop him, stilling his fretful mind and relaxing him until he almost forgot what he'd seen and happily raced back to our property, carefree once again.
With his cleaver raised, Job paused when he heard Woofer's bark, then chopped down with the bloodied blade when he realized it was just me.
"What you doing?" I asked, knowing full well as it was blindingly obvious.
"Cutting up this bastard," grunted Job, letting the cleaver fall once again, expertly dissecting the forearm from the upper arm, the limb already removed from the torso.
"Did he call you names?" I asked, nodding to the dismembered corpse on the bench.
