The Land Beyond All Dreams by Fields Bryan

Author:Fields, Bryan
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Urban Fantasy
Publisher: MuseItUp Publishing
Published: 2014-09-08T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Thirteen

Memento Mori

The only good part about being left out of the funeral planning was having time to prepare for war. I added two fixed-blade ceramic tactical knives to my arsenal, along with a hardened polymer sgian dubh. I mounted a six-shaft quiver on my bow and loaded it with cedar arrows sporting flaked-obsidian hunting points.

My proudest acquisition was an Aztec macuahuitl, a two-handed wooden sword with obsidian blades set into grooves on opposite sides of the weapon. I did some practice cutting on rolled-up tatami mats and it ripped through them like an obsidian chainsaw.

Maybe Thain knew what was going on—for whatever reason, he didn’t show his face for the next few days. I got a haircut and a new suit. I stitched pockets under the arms of the jacket to hide the tactical knives without messing up the lines of the suit.

At least we knew Mom’s body hadn’t been messed with. Audrey was riding herd on the mortuary staff and making sure I knew everything was going according to her plans. I did ask Audrey what I could do to help with the funeral, and she told me to get a haircut. I put the rage in a box and saved it for later.

I called Ishmael and filled him in on Thain’s role in ravaging downtown Boulder’s parks and open space. Officially, it was being investigated as an illegal dump of unknown toxic chemicals. All the contaminated earth was being removed and Boulder Creek was being dredged. Arwydd took samples of the dust and river sludge back home for analysis, but she had never seen anything like it before.

Somewhere in all that, I wrote out a eulogy and got some favorite photos emailed to Audrey. After I seemed to give in on the cremation issue, I think she concluded I was beaten and demoralized. She demanded prior approval on my eulogy, so I emailed it to her. She approved it, but put me last on the speaking list and told me I’d have about five minutes. I told her I’d keep it short. Then I threw the whole thing out and started over.

Find out where your enemy is the weakest, and attack there.

At the funeral, Audrey demanded to see my speech again. I refused to turn it over, but Dad backed her up. I gave her the same version she’d already seen.

“This looks fine,” she said. “I’ll just hold on to it until it’s your turn, just to make sure nothing gets changed.”

My response was one normally unheard in a church. I didn’t care. I walked to the front pew and sat, staring at the flower-draped casket. At least Audrey was predictable. The casket was open and Mom was propped up to allow everyone a good view—exactly as I’d hoped she would be.

Five minutes into the service, I wanted to chop the minister’s head off. Or at least body-check him into the empty baptismal pool. He’d never met Mom, knew nothing about her, and spent half an hour praising Jesus before mentioning her name.

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