Last Death
an excerpt

From the time it took for someone to answer the door and how long Verrick could hear someone moving around inside, he had come to the conclusion that the person was a recluse and was actually moving away from the door or the house was very large and they were deliberately stomping. When the door finally swung open and Verrick had to bend his neck far back to see the man’s face, he decided that it was both a large house and a large man. The boots, the first thing he’d seen when the door had opened, could probably fit both of his feet in one with room to wiggle his toes.

“Hello.” The large man ventured with the patient, bored look of someone who had a surprising number of callers for being out in the middle of nowhere. He was upwards of six-foot-four, which compared to Verrick’s slight five-foot-five frame meant that the giant was a head taller and twice as broad. The man’s shoulders, wide and solid, lent an air of muscle to a body that was soft on all other edges. His face, impatiently incurious as he watched the interruption of his day, was a thick oval with a thick nose and thick lips under a thick shock of pale blond hair. The exception to his generally thick aspect was the slender amount of hair on his chin and under his nose, light wisps of a beard which spoke of a man too distracted to shave but without the physiology for a proper beard.

The facial hair made Verrick realize just how much was different here. Men, in his experience, didn’t own beards. He mentally thanked his new memories for the reference, still uncertain as to where they came from, and gave the towering blond a friendly grin.

“Greetings,” He paused, attempting to figure out how to explain his predicament. “I appear to be lost. Ah, may I –“ he searched his memory for the proper term in a place so seemingly player-like, “may I use your telephone?”

The man grunted and straightened the sack-like shirt, one that consisted of enough fabric to comfortably create three baggy tunics for Verrick, and beckoned him into the house.

The sheer massive scope of what appeared to be an ordinary home in this world gave Verrick pause. He was a compact man, lightweight and muscular from constant physical exertion, with dark unruly hair and dark eyes. Even in the bulk of his riding leathers, he could barely compare with the giant striding audibly before him. If all the people here were blond, blue-eyed and towering he’d stick out like a standing shepherd in the midst of his flock. Only reverse. In thinking, he missed much of the detail of his surroundings, only recognizing it as an entry hall with several doorways off in various directions. As they entered one, his hose spoke.

“You don’t even know what a telephone is.” The large man’s voice reflected his body, a deep bell-tone that sounded as if he had a faint accent at some point. The precise clipped words meant he’d probably deliberately schooled it out. Marvelling that he could understand the language in this strange place, even though the vowels were slightly off, Verrick didn’t initially understand the man’s good-natured words.

A very quiet alarm sounded in Verrick’s head as the comment registered. “What?” He came to a stop in some sort of sitting room. Surrounded by various couches and chairs upholstered in matching dark fabrics, he could only stare at the man in consternation.

“My name is Henry.” The disinterests had turned to something very like sympathy. “If you don’t mind me asking, what is your name?”

“V’rick” He replied without thinking, “Or… I suppose Verrick, since I’m here alone.” The loss of the honorific wasn’t a large one, as losses go, but it struck him all the same. The Henry fellow seemed to understand, though, because he didn’t ask for more clarification. “What do you mean, I don’t know what a telephone is?”

Henry laughed shortly, gesturing to one of the couches before settling in a large brass-bound chair. After Verrick sank into the couch, feeling more than a little confused and clutching the couch arm as if it would save him from being swallowed by events, or at the very least from being swallowed by the deep cushions, Henry nodded. “Good. Don’t look so frightened. I’m not a mass murderer or a mind reader. It’s just obvious you’re a character.”

“Obvious?” Verrick’s despairing word earned him another nod before Henry continued.

“Obvious. You knock on my door at the far edge of civilization claiming to be lost when there is no physical way to get out here and be lost short of coming over the mountains, which you wouldn’t have survived. That meant you were a new arrival. You’re also wearing leathers, not the most common of occurrences, and pronounce ‘telephone’ like the Japanese pronounce German.” He pointed at Verrick’s head. “And you’re bleeding and didn’t even mention it.”

“Japanese?” Verrick was only getting more confused, finally just helplessly repeating the strangest word of the lot. His memories weren’t keeping up with the conversation and his hunger was becoming more of a distraction. “Please – I only understand about half of this. I… I’m bleeding?” He could have used that as an excuse to come in, he realized belatedly as he dabbed at the thick ooze of half-dried blood near his hairline.

“You’re bleeding. And I’m being a horrible host. Let’s get you to the kitchen and clean you up. I think I have a change of clothes so you can shuck the leathers. They’re a dead giveaway for those on the lookout for new character arrivals. Not that we get many from your fandom, but it’s not completely unheard of.” Henry, even though they had sat down only the minute before, heaved himself to his feet and stretched out a huge hand to offer his assistance.

Accepting the help, Verrick was pulled to his feet before being led through a connecting hallway to the kitchen. The room gleamed with white tile and chrome appliances, most of which he was too preoccupied to attempt to name. Henry pointed to a small round table covered with a cheerful blue-checked tablecloth. Pulling out the sturdy wooden chair, he dropped into it and put his head in his hands. The sun shone warm on his back through the kitchen windows, the view he’d glimpsed upon entering showing the same ridge he’d just descended. The brilliant green flecked with autumnal gold nearly brought back his headache, if only by association.

He sat, silent, as his host bustled around the cooking island in the center of the room. Verrick said nothing when Henry tossed him a wet paper towel – paper? Shards. – and a small bottle of antiseptic. He dabbed at his head, mind blank, while Henry performed a short concerto that consisted entirely of clanking plates, rustling bags and the sound of substances being slapped and glopped. The antiseptic stung when he blotted what turned out to be a relatively small cut with it. When the distracting racket stopped and the sound of tromping boots made their way over to him, Verrick looked up.
Henry handed him a plate and took at seat across the small table, moving the silk-flower centerpiece in a cloud of dust so that he could properly speak with his guest. “Turkey sandwich.” He spoke around a mouthful of his own sandwich by way of explanation. “I figure you’ll be starving.”

Verrick nodded, still silent. He hesitated a moment, then set down the paper towel and lifted the sandwich. Turkey was some sort of bird. Not bothering to ask what else was in the sandwich, he took a tentative bite. When the flavor turned out to be not as disgusting as he’d feared, he managed to devour the entire thing in less than four bites. The thud of something hitting his plate startled him, and he stared at the new sandwich for a moment before looking quizzically at his host.

Henry chuckled and then pointed down at the plate he’s placed in front of him. It was piled with the relatively small sandwiches. He was still nibbling on the first he’d picked up. “If you have the appetite for them, I’d suggest eating them. I used an entire bag of bread for them and they’ll get soggy in the ‘fridge.”

Finally finding his voice, Verrick gave Henry a rueful smile, “Thank you. For your hospitality and the meal.”

Henry waved away the thanks. “It’s no problem. I live out here at the edge of the world for a damn good reason. Most of us do. There are other communities like ours, small neighborhoods at entry points scattered across the map specifically for the purpose of intercepting people like you and easing your transition to our world. We’re an informal organization, mixed natives and characters. That and I love the mountains, especially in the fall.”

Verrick finished off his third sandwich and started on his fourth, taking a breath in between for a question. “Do you know why I came here?”

“The age-old question.” Henry chuckled, “Why am I here? I have no idea, Verrick, old son. I only know is that when people like you appear, you seem to do it very select areas. This little cluster was made to guide Aspen Lake arrivals. You didn’t see the lake on your way here, did you? Pity, it’s like glass most of the year and when the leaves turn it acts the mirror. Beautiful sight. No, I don’t know why you or anyone like you come to be dropped here. Headache gone?”

Staring, Verrick nodded. “How did you - ?”

Henry gestured to the slice on Verrick’s forehead. “A common complaint. It usually comes in tandem with a physical would or cut. We think it’s the memory dump that occurs. You’re trying to process everything and you kind of overload. Now, I promised you clothing.”

“I doubt anything of yours will fit.” Verrick said, licking the crumbs of the last sandwich off of fingers.

Henry guffawed, leaning over to slap Verrick on the shoulder. “That’s the spirit. I’ll be back down in two shakes. I’m going to call Maggie and see if she’d like to welcome you. Did you want a shower before she gets here?”

Verrick nodded an enthusiastic yes and Henry laughed again. Handing him a glass of water and pointing out the tap in the door of the refrigerator, Henry disappeared down the hallway still chuckling. Left alone with his thoughts, Verrick drank a few glasses of water and stared out the window at the ridge. He wasn’t even sure what world he was in, if this was his player’s world or somewhere else. The only thing he did now was that Henry had implied that there was no leaving for characters like him. He was going to have to stay. For lack of any real desire to pursue that train of thought, he entertained himself by watching a bird of prey circle, riding a thermal far up the slope.

Returning, Henry brought down a pair of coarse blue denim pants and a baggy shirt similar to his own but many sizes smaller. Holding up the garment to his shoulders to check the fit, Verrick noticed the image screened on the front. A slender green dragon, breathing fire. The tackiness of the shirt and the disproportion of the image notwithstanding, it still reminded him his lifemate. Henry rested a hand on his shoulder and gave him a gentle pat. The sympathy, on top of every else, brought tears to his eyes.

“It’s hardest for those who had some sort of magic or mystical-type bond in their other lives.” Henry voice stayed at an ungentle boom, but Verrick gathered that the man had one volume for everything. “You let me know if it gets too much for you. Grieve if you need to, but don’t let it distract you from the business of living. Now let’s get you cleaned up before Maggie gets here or she’ll have my hide for shirking my duties. Hop to it.”

Verrik gathered up the clothing, which came with a change of socks and undergarments, and allowed himself to be shoved across the lower floor to a guest room on the other side of the entry hall. With a few basic instructions about showers he bid his host farewell and listened to the tromping footsteps recede on the other side of the door. A short shower later, puzzled out swiftly thanks to his player, he was dressed in what he had sorted out were jeans and a t-shirt. Leaving his leathers on the bed he figured was his until this whole thing was sorted out, he stepped into the hallway in stocking feet to see if he couldn’t find Henry.

Hearing the sound of animated conversation from across the entry hall, Verrick followed the noise to the sitting room he’d seen when he first entered. Henry was sitting in his great leather-and-brass chair talking to a full-figured woman lounging on the couch that had almost eaten Verrick. When Henry noticed he was there, his greeting ‘caused the woman to turn in a smooth, sinuous motion and regard Verrick with a mischievous twinkle in her green eyes.

“Well, now, what have we here, Heppen? A cute little nibble, isn’t he? You said he was a ‘rider. If that’s the case, he’ll know how to have a good time, then won’t he.” Verrick was taken aback less by her teasing words than by her appearance. His fears of being lost in a world of giants were allayed when he realized she was probably shorter than he, standing. Her figure was what his mind stutteringly supplied as generously curved, and she had a slender, angular face with wide almond-shaped eyes and a great fall of mahogany-brown hair. Something about her face struck him as vaguely reptilian. When he finally pinpointed the cause, he caught himself staring. Her eyes were more yellow than the green he’d originally pinned them as, with vertical slits for pupils. She was the least human woman he’d ever seen and standing there with his mouth open, Verrick couldn’t find the words to respond.

“Leave off ‘em, Maggie. He’s a green from what I can tell. Most likely he’s not staring at your tits.” Henry chided her, taking a sip from a glass Verrick hadn’t realize he was holding.

Maggie blinked her unsettling yellow-green eyes and wrinkled her nose in an impish look. “A green, how disappointing for me. You’re right, Heppen, dear, he’s trying to drown himself in the deep pools of my eyes.” She tease both of them in the same breath before settling to a more serious tone, “I was mostly snake in at least two of my incarnations – Heppen said your name was Verrick? Enchanting – so the physical manifestation carried over. Are you alright, dear? Please sit with me.” She patted the couch cushion beside her with a charming reptilian smile.

Breaking his eyes away from her, Verrick took a deep breath and nodded. As he made his way to the couch he self-consciously ran a hand through his wet hair and gave Henry a small smile. When he’d settled himself and accepted the glass of iced tea Henry offered him, Verrick asked the first question that came to his mind. “Why do you keep calling him Heppen?”

Maggie’s jaw dropped open in what looked, as far as he could tell, like genuine shock. “Heppen! Have you been telling this boy your name was Henry? Henry. How completely… completely pedestrian.” She tossed her hair back over her shoulder, a thick mass that swung by Verrick, narrowly missing the glass in hand. Giving Henry a disgruntled look she focused her queasy-making stare on him. “I call him Heppen because that’s his name. Or at least his original one. Just as the name I was born with was Ura. Just as your name is Verrick. This world isn’t ready for that kind of exotic, so we’ve adopted pseudonyms. Heppen is stubborn and prefers to use them, the big pig.”

Verrick nodded, opening and shutting his mouth before managing his question. “Do you want me to call you Ura or Maggie?”

“Maggie.” She replied, prompt and clipped. “Men are creatures of habit. The more you use Maggie the more comfortable the natives will be.”

Openmouthed at her logic, Verrick looked to Henry for help. Snickering under his breath, Henry said, “We should probably start calling you Rick, old son. Verrick’s a little too easy to pick out as character. I wouldn’t worry about anything like that for the next few days, though. You’ve got some basic education to catch up on and some player memories to sort through.”

Maggie leaned over and patted him on the knee, a comforting gesture. “Really, don’t worry dear. You’ve got as much time here as you need. The rest of the houses here are native, but they’re used to new arrivals. We’ll help you get your balance back while you sort out what you’d like to do. You’re safe here.”

Verrick gave the vibrant female and his substantial host each a grateful grin. Despite being not quite sure what all the secrecy of being a character was all about, he was fed and clothed. “Thank you. Now, I’m sorry to run off on you, but do you mind if I nap? I have no idea when the last time I slept was.”

The shiver-inducing laugh owned by Maggie accompanied Henry’s amusement and they bid him to sleep well. They were already quietly talking together when he left the room.