Shady Offensive
“I’m recalling something about… burying your treasure under the fairy ring to make it work,” I said.
“Ah! AH!” Shady bobbed, vibrating me. “Yes! I stole a chest of Omnid gold from Aunt Zexxia…”
“You had a huge gold chest that you carried around with one arm,” I agreed. “Just like Pippi. You cheeky doggo.”
“Or maybe she let me steal it as my allowance… ‘cus she was pretty crazy,” Shady rumbled. “Anyways. I remember it now! We kept adding stuff to the big circle! Stuff I claimed. Magical stuff I found. Slayer! No wonder it worked. I have a hoard! I have a treasure hoard buried in Darkfall worth a few million O-bux! Eeeeeeeeeee! I can’t believe I forgot all about it! Darn brain-spooders!”
“Think you can find it?” I asked. “I kind of promised to pay Wattica a salary in O-bux.”
“Not very helpful,” I agreed. “I can’t recall where it is either and Darkfall is basically a hundred kilometers squared around Mount Olympus.”
“And the terrain is fucked by magic,” Shady agreed. “Why the fuck is that place so magical? Hrmmmm.”
“Say, in what year was the Frontenachii empire founded?” I asked as Shady became silent and contemplative. “When did Zexxia start to screw around with gates to my Earth?”
“Empress Aconia founded the Corpse-God Citadel in Eighteen sixty five,” Shady recited.
“Nineteenth century?” I surmised, “That doesn’t make sense, the petroglyphs were thousands of years old… at least as defined by carbon dating and archeologists, I think.”
“It’s possible that Koppernacht really did open gates back in time,” Shady shrugged. “Or maybe the local Omnids screwed enough with those locations which caused the carvings, paint or the rocks to age ten thousand years in a century. Some magic does that. Or maybe time was running super fast… then slowed down in your dimension compared to Omnithornia.”
“That’s a thing?”
“Yes.” Shady answered. “Time between dimensions is sometimes a mess, unless they’re constantly linked by open gates.”
“Why?”
“I dunno. System Wizards? I was… honestly pretty scared that I would find you too late, an old man on his death bed or just a faded gravestone. I’m… really glad that we are the same age.”
“Me too,” I agreed.
My fingers reached out and entwined with hers. I stared at the ripple of violet auroras and orange sparks igniting like fireflies wherever my skin touched her fur and paw pads. “That’s new. What is that? Some kind of a thermochromic effect?”
“Yeah.” Shady stared at our hands. “My phase-shift is acting up in reaction to your touch.”
“Does it mean that the Netherweave Fold is working?”
“Feels like something’s working,” she said with a smile, “I’m… happy, my organic heart thrumming like a drum. Brrrrrr.” She tapped her claws on my shoulders then suddenly lifted me, chair and all.
I made a startled noise as Shady carried me to the beach and plopped my chair close to the waves.
“Gonna get wet,” I commented as the fluff-capped wave nearly smashed into us, then retreated.
“A little dread of wetness is nice,” she positioned herself on the rocky sand and rested her head on my lap.
“The waitress probably saw that too.”
“Eh, she probably saw you stealing a chair.”
“Way to pin your crimes on me.”
“Mwa ha ha ha.” Shady made an over-the-top supervillain-victory laugh. “Sucks to suck.”
I rolled my eyes at her and started to pet her head and neck. The Wendigo closed her eyes and started to purr like a tractor. The feathers lit up with violet fire and brilliant stardust wherever my fingers touched her, fiery constellations becoming traced into existence.
We stayed at it for a while, enjoying each other’s company.
A wet nose pressed against my knuckles. “Sooooomeoneee expertly avoided my question. Don’t think that I didn’t notice.”
I sighed.
“You are the most important person in my life and always have been… even when I didn’t believe that you were real for like a decade,” I said after a pregnant pause, staring at the ocean, “and I would crash a thousand more warships into a thousand more moons to keep you safe and at my side. Happy?”
Shady’s jaw clenched.
Her eyes became extra-shiny. Then, thin lines of silver ran down, leaving glittering trails in the dark fur of her cheeks.
“Are you crying?” I asked.
“Nope. Wendigos don’t cry,” she stated, while two more silver teardrops tracked down her starfield muzzle.
“Right. Totally didn’t see you cry in the garden last week. This must be… condensation.”
“Exactly. Marine layer. Very moist today.”
I reached out and wiped a silver tear from her cheek with my thumb. It tingled against my skin, igniting silver stars dancing in my eyes.
“Don’t fret it, Ashykins.” Shady nudged my hand harder with a wet nose. “You pretty much already said everything you needed to say by explaining why you can’t say it, you absolute unit of dingus.”
“I used a lot of words to dance around your feelings,” I added.
“My feelings will survive this,” she yawned.
“I’m going to figure out the word-feelings eventually,” I stated needlessly.
“I know.” Her warm breath soaking through the denim. “I’ve waited thirteen years, Ashy. I can wait a few thousand years more as long as you and I are together.”
“It’s going to be really anticlimactic when I finally say it. Probably over something stupid. Like, I’ll be microwaving leftover pasta at 2 AM and it’ll just fall out.”
“Then I’ll be right there, at 2 AM, eating your pasta. But… First, I want to find my treasure. It’ll help me feel less like a starving mutt.”
I nodded.
“Darkfall. Treasure. Time. Space. Gateways,” she muttered to herself and then stared at me, eyes growing wide. “Shit! Lotta of coincidences there.”
“What coincidences specifically?”
“Darkfall, your grandparents’ mansion at the edge of Darkfall positioned like an observation station… your parents traveling across North America to other magical spots where you saw Thunderbird totems and Wandjinn rituals…”
“Yeees?”
She remained silent for a few seconds, then her face flattened slightly, gaining lips. Reaching up, she suddenly kissed me, cheeks and antlers sparkling with vibrant aquamarine, blue and violet. “Firstly. You are getting loved and cared for. Do not resist.”
I kissed her back. “Hard to resist such a cute wendoggo.”
“Awww yus. Second, I’m boggling a hypothesis. I think that Zexxia used your parents to check up on her clients, to see how they are doing.”
“Without my parents being kobolds?”
“My auntie wasn’t exactly sensible.” Shady shrugged. “Using patsies in overly elaborate schemes was funny for her. Maybe your parents were her kobolds, were organized into that particular work by a corporation or government agents her other kobolds funded. Or they were told to act normally and to forget that they served her? It’s a theory as good as any.”
I frowned. “I… REALLY don’t like this theory.”
“‘Cus it means that your parents lied to you lots? Or purposefully messed with you? Or were themselves messed with by Zexxia and her other ‘bolds into doing terrible things to you?”
My left hand dug into the chair’s armrest, knuckles turning white.
“No sad feels allowed!” Shady stated, twirling around me.
“I…” I began.
“I know how to make you feel better!” I suddenly felt a weight on my head. “Boobhat!”
I smiled, relaxing ever so slightly.
Shady’s larger hands kneaded my shoulders. “It’s going to be okay, Ashy. Promise. I’ll be here for you, no matter what happens. I can totally eat your psychiatrist… or your parents if that’s what helps you feel better.”
“Not sure if that would help,” I sighed. “But… you know what?”
“What?”
“We can mess with the doc,” I said.
“Yeah? Whennnn?” She bobbed, nipping at me excitedly with her fingers, getting further and further into the “smoosh Ash” gigil, cute aggression state.
“Right now.” I said, pulling my tablet out of its beltside saddle bag.
As the screen lit up, I scrolled through my contacts list, thumb hovering over a name I hadn’t tapped in what felt like millennia.
[Dr. Elena Marsgrove, PsyD.]
The Telegram profile picture showed a middle-aged woman with square reading glasses perched on her nose and a very stern expression that boldly stated “I will diagnose your personality disorder based on how you stack your dishes.”
“That’s your hooman doc?” Shady looked down reading the screen.
“Yep. I think she deserves an update.” I smiled up at her.
Shady’s silver eyes widened. Her skull-grin intensified its glow, canines gleaming.
“Hopefully she’s not with a patient now or something. Stay out of frame for now, wendoggo,” I ordered. “Let me warm her up first.”
“Aye aye, captain.” Shady slid off me, positioning herself out of the camera angle, tail doing an excited metronome.
I hit the video call button.
Three rings. Four. Five.
Then the awfully-familiar face of Dr. Elena Marsgrove materialized on screen. The beige-walled office with many framed degrees, and a series of succulents and cactuses she’d had since I was eleven once again greeted me, making me shudder ever so slightly.
“Ashcroft?” She blinked. “I haven’t heard from you in… goodness, about three years now. How are you?”
“Hey, Doc. Yeah, sorry about ghosting. Been busy at university and… inheriting a haunted mansion.”
“Ah. You moved into the Clifford estate, yes?” The psychiatrist asked. “Your grandfather’s place?”
“Yes. How did you…”
“Your mother notified me of your recent relocation via email.”
“I see. Listen doc, I need to talk to you about a rather important topic. I’ve been having… symptoms.” I struggled to suppress a dastardly grin.
Elena’s expression snapped into her clinical-evaluation mode. She exhumed a notepad from her desk and clicked a pen.
I flinched, hands trembling. Darn ten years of Pavlovian response. Shady’s tail wrapped itself around my leg and my grip on the tablet steadied with her presence.
“Tell me what you’re experiencing, Ashcroft,” the doc began her usual spiel. “Take your time.”
“Right. About a week ago, I was lying in bed. Couldn’t sleep.”
“Ah. Do you still have insomnia as a side effect from Abilify?”
“Yes,” I said. “Anyway, around one AM, I started hearing spooky scratching sounds from underneath the bed frame.”
“Auditory disturbances. Are these similar to the episodes you experienced as a child?”
“Very similar, and then they got worse. I… looked under the bed and there was a… person there.”
“A person?”
“Yep. Female. Dark fur. Black feathers spotted with silver stars. Antlers. Glowing silver eyes… Beautiful.”
Shady’s tail squeezed me harder in approval.
Elena’s pen paused. “Similar to your childhood visions?”
“The very same. Except, she’s in her twenties now. She spoke to me… Called me by name. Claimed to be my childhood best friend.”
“Ashcroft… Did you stop taking the Abilify?”
“Yes. In College. I tapered off with supervision.”
“And you’ve been unmedicated since?”
“Yep.”
“Have you been stressed recently?”
“Sure have,” I agreed. “More stressed than usual, in fact. I’ve been looking for engineering work online, planning to renovate the Clifford mansion and haven’t had much luck. Plus, my personal life is pretty whack now. Lots of… very unusual roommates.”
“Hrm. The isolation of the estate, combined with stress of your grandfather’s passing plus unemployment stress and sleep deprivation, could certainly precipitate a relapse of…” she trailed off. “Has the entity appeared more than once?”
“Oh, absolutely. She… follows me everywhere, won’t let me have any personal space. Ate my expired pancakes. Invaded my shower. Keeps pawing at me. Threw me bodily into a lake.”
Elena stopped writing. “She… threw you into a lake?”
“Yep. Grabbed me by the torso and launched me into cold-ass water. A very traumatic experience. Thought that I was going to drown.”
Shady let out a huff.
“The physicality of the hallucination is concerning. Tactile hallucinations of this persistence and coherence could indicate…”
“It gets worse,” I said, unable to suppress a shit-eating smirk at the faces Shady was making at me. “She also licks my face. Regularly. Like a dog. And she has serious opinions about my wardrobe, my cooking, and my love life.”
“Your love life?”
“She’s very possessive, Doc. Gets jealous of my lovely girlfriend… Galateya. Swats me with her tail when I talk to other women.”
Shady’s tail swatted me, nearly making me drop the tablet. I sent her a glare.
Elena stared at me over her glasses.
“Ashcroft, are you… taking recreational substances?”
“Stone cold sober. Unless you count the cup of coffee I just had this morning.”
“I’m going to be honest with you. The vividness, the persistence, the tactile components, the elaborate narrative structure… This sounds like it could be a significant psychotic episode. I’d like to discuss resuming a low dose of aripiprazole and scheduling an in-person evaluation in my Seattle office as soon as…”
“Actually, Doc, before you pull out your prescription pad… my lovely hallucination would like to speak with you.”