Sassy ranged alongside the horses, her lithe form darting into the woods alongside Interstate 12 to emerge a bit later with an opossum or raccoon, or some strange mutant that used to be an animal. I drank them all, draining them to replenish my spark. The Sparrowsaurs [1] and Dinopillars [2] were very tasty, filled with more motes than their size would indicate. Not every creature had a mana stone, I discovered. Sassy dragged back some that were stunned and they had nothing more than a swirl of sparks around their heart, a dense cloud waiting to condense into a mana stone. Those tasted the best.

I stopped to tie some flags and warn others of the danger behind me. A flaw in the system reared its ugly head - how do you tell someone the direction of the danger? I carved a short message and arrow into the tree from which I hung the 4-knot cloth, “-> Danger East ->” and hoped for the best. This was the route that we took as a family to get to the farm. It would be familiar and the Boys would probably take it. They would need to backtrack to the LA-21 exit and go through Covington itself.

Which was an unknown danger.

They say the devil you know is better than the devil you don’t. When we return, I’ll take my chances with the Jack the Troll. Next time he won’t find me such an easy target.

My ribs still creaked just a bit with a deep breath, but I was feeling much better a couple hours later. It was only 25 miles to Ponchatoula. With luck, we would be in Hammond by evening and I would be with Astrid by tomorrow morning. If the gods loved me, Sylvia wouldn’t be with her. Sylvia's husband Tony would be okay though. He was cool. Mostly.

I hated myself for that thought. A child needs their parents, even if they are dysfunctional. Maybe. I don’t know. I’d rather be blamed for exposing her to a toxic environment than accused of denying her access to her mother because I’m hateful. The last thing I want is for her to place the memory of her mother on a pedestal because I forbid contact. Astrid is clever, she can see through Sylvia's shit. Hell, she has no problem calling me out on my shit. It’s part of our Father-Daughter agreement, and I’m absolutely full of shit to be called on.

So far I’ve had a few miserable hours to reflect on my recent experience with Jack the Troll. First, maybe I shouldn’t be so willing to open dialogue with anything that’s tainted with the black stuff. Sure, Jack could speak, and Sassy is a great bond companion after I cleansed her, but so far I’ve had nothing but bad experiences and physical trauma. So, new rule: If it’s tainted, we shoot first and apologise later. Maybe I can heal and cleanse them. Maybe tame them. If not, we drink them.

Second, what the hell is going on with me? I’ve never been so emotionally unstable in my life. My thoughts have been all over the place; inconsistent and chaotic, almost like I’ve been on drugs. Something has changed, something has been affecting my cognition and I’m pretty sure it’s either the aurora or that dreadful eye staring at me from the heavens.[3] Whatever the cause, the constant presence of Miguel, Sparky, and Sassy in my head has been oddly comforting and I feel calmer now than I have in what seems like ages. Not nearly as cocky and arrogant. ‘A new sheriff with anger issues’. Jesus save me. Memories from the last couple of days make me cringe. [4]

I shattered a man’s core and left him to an unknown fate. I killed those two horse thieves back in Plainview, and I still feel irrationally angry thinking about them. I killed Elemental Mike and his outlaws, and abandoned that poor girl. Dangled a man over the side of a bridge.

I’m not a psychopathic killer, but I’m not sure I’d be able to convince a jury of that right now.

Everyone is scared, uncertain, and strange shit is happening. Just because I can kill easily doesn’t mean there won’t be consequences later. You have to help yourself before you can help others and once I have my family safe, I can repay my debts. I will repay them.

Third, I either need to get serious about combat or better at avoiding it. I’m not thinking like a guy with super powers. If I had hardened my aura when Jack swung at me, maybe I wouldn’t have had my chest caved in. Maybe I was still groggy from just waking up. Maybe I didn’t want to kill someone, something, without provocation. That hesitation cost me. Elemental Mike and his Orc cronies should have taught me a lesson, but it didn’t. Lesson learned, twice. Hit first, hit hard, keep hitting, double tap.

And finally, I need new pants. I’ve cannibalised another ten pounds of my own fat belly to heal myself, and this pair fits funny. If things keep going like they are I’ll resemble an actual ghoul by the time I reach Astrid.

Shifting uncomfortably in Miguel’s saddle, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, gazing at the world around me. Streamers of coloured motes rose from every fire savaged vehicle, twisting in some unfelt etherial breeze before scattering and vanishing into the aurora overhead. Glowing mana cores and auras from small animals darted through the woods like tiny fireflies. My psychic vision cut off after about 100 yards, painting everything with a greenish fog of verdant life. The world was a burnt ruin, but it was a beautiful burnt ruin. [5]

The air around me was hazy, filled with acrid smoke from fires the rains had failed to extinguish. It cast an orange pall over the world, filling it with the stench of burnt plastic and wood. Dense black plumes of smoke rose from the north and south as I headed west towards Hammond. Everything was burnt or burning. My monkey brain offered up the quiet opinion that Astrid may not be alive and I kicked that bastard into a box. Astrid is clever. She’s fucking brilliant. She will survive this bullshit and be waiting for me. And once she’s safe, we’ll collect her brothers and get home.

The psychic radar, my ‘hearing’, was maybe twice that of my vision that now that the Methuselah’s star was over the tree line. I made the connection with right away when comparing my inability to sense Jack earlier. When the Dragon’s Eye [6] was over the horizon, the aurora was brighter, the motes thicker, and my powers stronger. I pinged constantly, seeking hostiles.

My psychic vision was always on, showing me the emotional colours of anything with an aura, but I had to actively concentrate to ‘hear’ things with the psychic radar, to sense the emotions from other things. The world around me was full of emotions - screaming, fucking, struggling, killing, eating. I listened intently for anything that needed a good ass-whipping. [7]

Just after I crossed the overpass for LA-1085, I detected the presence of a group of humans with my psychic radar before I saw their dark orange blobs scavenging through the remains alongside the highway. They felt tired and scared and …fanatic?

Commanding Sassy to sneak past them if possible, I kicked Miguel into a fast trot, trying to get by without incident. A whistle rang in the smokey air, followed by two more ahead of me. The blobs emerged from where they were rummaging through the ruined lorries on the interstate and hustled to intercept me. I gave serious thought to plowing through them, but when I got closer I could see they were armed with axes, machetes, baseball bats, and an honest-to-god pitchfork. None of them had the black taint, but they were grubby, covered in soot and dirt from their looting.

I didn’t want the horses to get injured, so I slowed and pulled out a handful of nails from the pouches hanging on my saddle.

“Just passing through, not looking for trouble!” I yelled, slowing the horses to a walk. Four men and three women had scampered across the median, blocking my way. I heard whistles in the distance and detected more activity around me.

“Stop in the name of Reverend Lionel Baxter!” one of the men shouted, pausing to blow his whistle three times.

“I have no idea who that is, and I don’t care.” I retorted. “I’m heading to Hammond to get my daughter.”

“Reverend Baxter is keeping this area safe from the demons, friend.” One of the women said, stepping forward with a simpering smile. She wiped her hands on a torn dress stained by ashes. “Surely you’ve seen the demons?”

“I’ve seen a lot of stuff,” I admitted, trying to keep an eye on them as they formed up in front of me. “Mostly scared people and weird animals. Nothing supernatural. Y’all need to keep back, ya hear?”

“You need to meet the Reverend,” One of the men said. He was dressed in torn jeans and a Hillfigur shirt, with dark circles under his eyes. “He will explain how the Apocalypse has come and we need join together and fight the demons.”

“You’re not listening,” I said, growing frustrated with these evangelicals. I fought back the urge to nail all these fuckers to the road. I’m not some ghoulish murder-hobo, I’m in control of thoughts and actions. “I’m going to get my daughter. You can get out of the way, or you can get run over.”

“Peace, my friend,” one young man said, holding a hand up. He was dressed in jeans and an Aggretsuko tee shirt. Soot covered one side of his face with wrinkles, giving him the appearance of someone who had aged unnaturally. “The Reverend has established a haven for all of God’s children. We have food and water for all who need it, and a safe place to rest.”

Mr. Pitchfork stepped up with a grin half hidden beneath a ragged beard. His eyes were popped wide, giving him the appearance of being perpetually surprised. “The world has ended and the End is upon us. We need to stand strong against the army of Satan until the final battle. Join us, and you will surely be rewarded in heaven!”

“I’m just passing through,” I said again. “But thank you for the offer of hospitality.”

They all turned their heads at the same time, looking towards a steeple half-hidden behind the trees on the side of the interstate.

“The Reverend is coming,” They said in concert, their voices overlapping in eerie syncopation.

Yeah, I’m not getting weird vibes from this at all. Nope. Everything is fine.

I tried to move the horses while their attention was diverted, but they immediately focused on me and arrayed themselves in front of me, half-threatening with their weapons. I pinged the area with my psychic radar.

Seven orange blobs around me, none in the trees or elsewhere, so I didn’t need to worry about archers. Three more blobs entered my psychic vision, one with a bright yellow spark. It paused for a moment before continuing towards me. Probably assessing the spark in my head. I need to remember to keep it dim from now on. It cost me mana, but it could be handy in the near future. Lesson learned. Mental note: Stealth mode.

I made sure the nail pouches were readily available and eyed Mister Hatchet hanging at the saddle. You’re the only one I can depend on, Mister Hatchet.

A short, thick man tromped across the burnt grass separating the interstate from the service road. Unlike the members of his congregation, he was clean. Dressed in slacks and a white button-down shirt with tie, he looked like he was ready to give a sermon. I could see the bright yellow spark burning in his balding head as he approached with a large, friendly smile.

The bigger the smile, the sharper the knife.

“Hello, my friend!” He waved, approaching with an extended hand.

“Don’t touch me,” I snapped, spinning Miguel around with pressure from my knees and pointing the bitey end at him. “I’m heading to Hammond to get my daughter and I’d appreciate it if you called off your dogs.”

“Dogs?” Reverend Baxter frowned, dropping his hand. “That’s not very nice. These are my faithful followers, standing with me against the forces of Hell in these final days of the Apocalypse.”

“I can see the leash on your dogs,” I said, using a psychic tentacle to grab at one of the nearly invisible silver threads that ran from the reverend to his followers.

The threads had only become visible when he grew near, indicating an obvious link between him and the grimy people before me.[8] I wrapped a tentacle around the thread that ran from his spark and burrowed into the head of the man holding the pitchfork. It thrummed faintly under my psychic touch like a plucked violin string. I could sense emotions running through it, faint whispers of half-heard thoughts. Tugging at the mental thread harder, I pulled until it snapped.

Ol’ Pitchfork dropped like a puppet whose strings were cut, convulsing on the ground.

A frown creased the reverend’s face briefly before being replaced by a another big smile. “Ah, well, that changes everything doesn’t it?” He said, looking up at me. I could see the mental web connecting him to his puppets flare to life, glittering as yellow mana flowed from his spark into their heads.

“Not at all,” I replied, plucking at another thread. “I’m looking to pass through peacefully.”

“We could really use your help against the demons,” He said. “They grow bolder every day.”

“I’ll be passing back through in a few days,” I replied. “Perhaps I can stop in and help.”

“But we could use your help tonight, Brother. There are women and children to protect,” He pleaded. “And not enough men like us to drive away the forces of Darkness. We have been given a gift by God, it is our duty to shelter and guide others…”

“No means no,” I said, straining mentally to snap the thread held by my psychic tentacle. Yellow power flowed through it, fighting against my efforts until it broke, causing another puppet to collapse.

“Stop that,” Reverend Baxter spat.

“I’m trying real hard to be reasonable,” I spoke, grabbing another silvery thread. “I just want to pass through peaceably.”

Baxter’s face twisted into a hateful scowl. “You need to join us,” he growled, sending two silver threads at my face. “You will join my congregation.”

I hardened my aura against the intrusion, experiencing a physical sensation as they attempted to burrow past my defences. It felt like needles pricking at my mind, annoying and slightly painful.

“What is your fucking problem?” I said through gritted teeth. Hardening my aura left me without any psychic pseudopods to toss around, so I grabbed Mr. Hatchet and spun Miguel around so I could introduce my best friend to Baxter’s skull.

One of Baxter’s mental threads punched through my aura and sank into my skull. It was like taming Sassy all over again, except I was the one being tamed. He burrowed into my brain like a taser, pain and shock burning through my thoughts like acid as I mindlessly fought off the assault. My vision went white as my brain was crushed under the pressure of Baxter’s mental domination, compressing my entire world into a tiny sphere of screaming defiance.

And then it was over.

As my vision cleared I spotted Sassy standing over a convulsing Baxter with her whiskers wrapped around his leg. A quick glance around showed me the rest of the congregation was in no better shape, rolling on the ground like drunks.

Commanding Sassy to back away, I launched a handful of nails into the Reverend’s chest, shredding his heart and lungs into pulp. Grabbing another handful, I sent them tearing into his guts. [9]

Kicking Miguel in the ribs, I left Baxter dying in the dirt while his congregation struggled to their feet and staggered after me with groans and curses. I considered murdering them all and draining their corpses, but decided against it. I’m not going to kill anyone that isn’t tainted unless I have no choice.

I can’t fault these people for being under the control of Baxter.

Footnotes

1. Sparrowsaur (Poecile atricapillus terribilis). Status: Mostly Harmless.

A ground-dwelling mutant chickadee. About 12 inches in height, resembling a dinosaur with vestigial feathers and fingers. Eats mostly insects. Although it has exceptionally sharp claws, it will usually flee hostile encounters. Natural predator of the Dinopillar, it will climb trees seeking them.

2. Dinopillar (Lymantria dispar veru). Status: Pest.

A mutant caterpillar approximately 24 inches long, with a thick, viscous spit used to bind predators. The spit is useful as an alchemical reactant. The adult form is a giant moth with a 36 inch wingspan.

3. Elevated levels of mana in the bloodstream has a variable and measurable influence on the mental state of all living things until it is condensed by their mana stone or otherwise exhausted. The creation of an accretion disk around the core assists in managing mana levels in the bloodstream. This effect is most evident during the Blood Moon and Sunbane when more ambient mana is produced.

4. Although there is a short period of mental instability after mental bonding, the long term effects are mutually beneficial. This initial instability is strongest when many bonds are present, or the bond is forcibly cut.

5. This is the foundation for various spells, including Detect Magic, Detect Evil, True Sight, etc.

6. Methuselah’s star, the Dragon’s Eye, has a measurable effect on the production of mana and the efficiency of magic. Certain Beasts, Monsters and Archetypes are known to be especially affected when the Dragon’s Eye is occulted by the moon (Blood Moon) or the sun (Sunbane).

7. This is the foundation for various spells, including Locate Object, Detect Thoughts, etc.

8. There is a silver thread that shows mental activity or bonding. This thread can be as innocent as a telepathic communication between two willing individuals, a mutual bond between companions, or a thread of mental domination. While there are no known limits to the distance such a thread can cover, those sensitive can detect them at varying degrees of distance.

9. The self-proclaimed god Baxter is the first known Ascended.

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