"Oh, for fuck's sake. I don't need this crap." I felt for the perfect weight and balance of my new knife, then flung it expertly straight at the guy with more force than I believed I had in reserve.

  I was as surprised as he was when it stuck deep into his chest. His eyes widened in utter shock, same as mine, as he grasped the hilt.

  "I wouldn't if I were you," I told him, not unkindly.

  As tears filled his confused eyes, and he stared at me, imploring, he yanked the knife out. His bowels loosened with an unhealthy spluuurt. Liquid shit stained the inside of his trouser legs. His bladder gave way and a dark stain spread across his crotch.

  It was no way to die.

  No glorious ending, just base and embarrassing. Blood pumped furiously from his punctured heart, arcing high then splattering in a puddle at my feet, splashing my boots and jeans. He sagged, dropped my knife that clattered to the frigid floor, then keeled over forward and landed with a sick crunch on his face. Blood pooled from underneath him, spreading across the floor until it lapped at my tainted boots like an ocean of accusation.

  I retrieved Bone Slicer then turned and walked from the room. It was done. Again.

  I felt nothing. No remorse, no guilt, just empty inside. Truly a creature deserving of such a fate myself.

  Was I even human any more?

  I was. More's the pity.

  SURPRISE!

  I sat slumped outside the lighthouse with my back to the striped wall and ignored the buzzing of drones that circled this ancient, life-saving monument. How many ships had it warned off the cliffs? How many lives had it saved? And here I was, having taken one in a place synonymous with refuge, with safety. With honor and aid.

  My energy was gone, my body bruised and my bruises bruised, my face smashed, my chest tight, ribs sore but thankfully not broken. The stab wounds were serious enough to warrant a few stitches and some delicate probing by careful, practiced hands, but we could clean them up at home, wash them out, then Phage could work her magic and stitch me up. I'd recover in a month or two, no problem.

  All in all, I'd come out of this better than expected when I first saw Eleron strolling along the beach looking like he didn't have a care in the world. If it hadn't been for him, this would have been a simple job. Almost too easy.

  The guy inside was an oddball, clearly not quite present, or aware of the reality of our twisted world, and not up to this kind of life. If it hadn't been me that put an end to him, it would have been someone else. But it was me. It felt so wrong. There had been no fight, no real risk. I needed that so my conscience could bear it.

  And I kept wondering about the damn air conditioning unit. What was that all about? I would never know. And did I really care? No. I was clutching at straws, trying to find something else to think about.

  There were more important things to ponder, to put into some kind of order. More information to decipher, to fit into place. How had Phage explained it? Ah, yes. Like a jigsaw puzzle but without the picture, so you don't know what you're working towards, where any of the pieces could possibly go. It was a perfect analogy. I could see the individual pieces, but had no clue where they could fit. What the point of it all was. If there was one.

  Maybe just like a jigsaw, there was no point beyond merely putting the pieces in the right place. Then you simply walked away and wondered what to do with the finished puzzle, until eventually you broke it apart reluctantly and put it all back in the box again.

  Would there ever be a box? Would there ever be an end to the hints and glimpses, the seemingly unrelated evidence and clues that might eventually lead me to a clear picture, but one that may still hold no meaning whatsoever? Would I ever know what the fuck was going on?

  My gut instinct told me that there'd never be an end. That I was merely one amongst many who learned more as they leveled up through the Necroverse, but would never, could never, know the full picture. The true horror of what lay at the heart of the Necronotes and the silent masters running the freak show.

  What did it matter anyway? There was nothing to be done but carry on as I always had, same as every other Necro who had ever lived. People kept telling me I was special, but I wasn't that special. There would be no big reveal where I could then live a life of peace. I wasn't foolhardy enough, or so full of myself, to believe that for a moment. No, as the witch bitches said, the notes endure.

  Even the fucking trolls had notes. But why not the elves? What made them so bloody special? If anyone deserved such a life, it was those smug bastards.

  How come they just got to watch the rest of us suffer? Maybe because they were nigh on immortal. Even the Necromasters couldn't get them to kill each other in a meaningful enough way to make it worthwhile. Not that they were the only Necro race to be excluded. Stripe didn't have to kill his kin. Fae the same. At least, as far as I was aware. Sprites, dwarves, so many other races all just went about their business unmolested by the notes.

  I wondered which ones did have them. Humans and trolls, was that it? Had anyone known about trolls before? I'd never heard it mentioned, but I didn't make a habit of hanging out with those obsessed with the Necroverse.

  "Hello," came a morose voice.

  I turned, startled, to see a glowing, spiral horn poke around the lighthouse wall, followed by a stupid head and a dumb face.

  "Aren't you going to say something? Why are you sitting there, grinning like you're trying to have a poo?"

  "I don't look like this when I'm having a poo. And how do you know what I look like when I'm on the toilet?"

  "I don't. But I've seen you in the woods enough times to know you look like that," Bernard said miserably.

  "What's up with you? And, um, how the hell did you find me? And what are you doing here?"

  "Nice to see you too." Bernard moped towards me then stood several paces away and lowered his head, almost stabbing me in the eye.

  "Careful, you almost got me."

  "Oh, so sorry. Am I intruding?"

  "Hey, take it easy." I took a deep breath, tensed my painful abs, then heaved up and stood with my back against the wall, trying to ignore the pain, unsure if I could remain standing for long.

  "So, let me guess," said Bernard, "you killed someone, and now you're going over and over what you did, wondering why you have to keep doing it, thinking about the things you've learned, wondering if they mean anything, unsure if you've heard too much and will get your name on a note? You curse those behind the notes, you lament how unfair it all is, and you repeat everything until your head's spinning and you finally acknowledge that you have no control over this, you never will, and you're just a plaything for your unseen masters."

  "Blimey, that was impressive."

  "Not really. It's what you always do," he said glumly, snorting.

  "No, not the recap, but that you used the word lament. And acknowledge. You been reading the dictionary?"

  "I'm a unicorn. I don't read."

  "Okay, then what?" Bernard hung his head and mumbled something. "What was that?"

  He looked at me through his thick, long lashes and said, "I'm trying to better myself. To keep up with Kayin. She knows all the big words already and is so bright. It's not fair."

  "She is a clever one. But look, old friend, don't beat yourself up about it. Everyone's different, and we all have our own skills. She's bright, sure, and she'll be a true warrior when older. She's brave, almost too brave, and her and Jen are perfect for each other, but you have your own thing. Never compare yourself to others, certainly not your children. You don't want to resent your kids, and this is a surefire way to do it. Be happy for her."

  "I am. I'm very proud of her. I just want to be able to keep up so I can stay interested, help her."

  "You help your children by loving them unconditionally. By always being there for them. By encouraging them to follow the right path and worrying sick about them every minute of the day. Do you do that?"

  "Yes."

  "Then you're the perfect father." I smiled at my oldest friend and nodded. He nodded back.

  "Thank you. Gosh, you've always been good at things like this. When you aren't making fun of me."

  "Hey, you'd hate it if I didn't make fun of you now and then."

  "Like you'd hate it if I stopped smashing windows?" he asked hopefully.

  "That's a bit different. Wow, it's hard to believe that we've been together since there weren't even windows with glass. At least, not for the likes of us. Ha, can you imagine such a thing?"

  "I'm a unicorn," he said, like he had so often to explain absolutely everything.

  "Fair enough. Guess glass isn't high on your list of priorities. But still, mad, right? How everything has changed so much. It's been a long life, my friend. So long."

  "For you. Not for me. You're like a… a… a blip! Yes, that's it. You're a blip on my life."

  "Way to make a guy feel insignificant." I glanced up at the drones as they circled the lighthouse, their work inside seemingly done. Guess the dead guy was gone now, dropped through an eye into a volcano or the middle of an ocean somewhere. They swept low, catching our conversation, or lack of it now, then were gone.

  "You're a human. Even Necros live short lives in comparison to my kind."

  "Exactly how old are you?" I asked. A question I'd never got an answer to from my, and we all knew it, rather dim-but-handsome sidekick.

  Bernard scrunched up his face, no easy thing for a creature that's basically a very shiny horse with a horn stuck on its forehead. The silence stretched out until I assumed he'd either forgotten the question or was farting. Silent but deadly.

  "Old," he said, smiling like it was the perfect answer.

  "Old? That's it?"

  "You don't understand. Your brain is different to mine. You're human. You read and count and do maths and think your dull thoughts. I'm a true Necro. A different creature. But I am an animal. We don't go around marking off calendars or counting the days, worrying what day it is or any of that. We never have lived like that. Animals don't have deadlines, or bills, or jobs, or anniversaries, or birthdays, or Christmas, or—"

  "You love Christmas. And you love presents."

  "Only because I'm with you. Animals don't have years or calendars, is what I'm saying. We don't give them a thought. Why would we? We don't mark the passing of time with mental notes or try to work things out. We just do stuff. We live in the moment. The now. That's what all you humans strive for, isn't it? To not be burdened by the past. Unfettered, you call it."

  "You really are trying to better yourself, aren't you?" I was impressed.

  "Yes. Soph, you are old by your standards, but you humans have so much baggage. I am truly old. Ancient beyond words. I cannot die, but that means I cannot remember much of my life. How could I? I can't be expected to remember things from thousands of years ago. Where would all that information fit? Plus, I live day by day. I don't let the past affect me."

  "Liar. You're always banging on about what happened to you. All the bad things. The things you hate. The state of your stable, your food, your aching legs, the hot, the cold."

  "That's different." Bernard grinned wide, his thin lips spread tight against his teeth. He looked so cheesy, so daft, but once again, my old friend had surprised me.

  "You are such a dark horse. Unicorn," I corrected as he glared. "You have a deep side, my friend. Shame you hide it so well most of the time. I wonder if you've been playing with me all these years and really you're a super-smart guy."

  Bernard shook his long, wavy mane. "I'm not. I know what I am. I know I'm dumb. I'm just an old, dumb unicorn who can't remember where he came from or what he did when he was young. But that's the point, isn't it? Why would I? Why should I? I am an animal, not a human being. And I'm smart enough to know that I have it much better than you do. All of you. Constantly worried about things. Stressed, scared, never happy. You never accept the way things are. You always want something different. You have mental health issues and you go so far as to ruin a whole world. How is that even possible? How could you do it? Why would you do it?"

  "Honestly? I have absolutely no idea. I think it's because we are the truly dumb ones. We think we can control everything, when all we do is fuck it up. You're right, we don't accept things. We dwell on the past, on things we cannot change, rather than being in the present and thankful for what we have. But you know what? We'll never change. We can't. It's how we are wired. And damn, Bernard, this is one epic conversation. Where has all this come from?"

  I looked up when he didn't answer. He was fast asleep, standing there with his eyes closed, snoring happily. I chuckled quietly. He was a daft creature, but it only went so deep. Underneath the moaning, the ludicrous things he did, he was actually much smarter than me. Smarter than all of us. How freeing it would be to not mark the passage of time. Not count the days, weeks, and years. Just live. Be truly free.

  I never would be. Just like he said I always did, I'd mope and lament, rage against my lot in the world, and question everything, even my own sorry existence.

  Who was the stupid one really? Not this immortal creature standing before me, exhausted from the mental gymnastics he'd had to perform to have a brief, but insightful conversation with a lowly human. He truly wasn't wired that way. Wasn't meant to discuss things in this manner. Because, after all, he wasn't as foolish as me.

  Several minutes later, as I slumped back down to the ground, and watched him sleep, I realized I had no idea why he was here at all.

  "Stupid fucking unicorn," I whispered, smiling.

  BERNARD GETS TO THE POINT

  "Hmmf. Whaaa? Gaaah? Mwfff. Gah. Ugh. What time is it?"

  "Nice sleep?" I laughed.

  "I wasn't asleep. I was resting my eyes after having been forced to travel all this way."

  "And who forced you to come here?" I asked, hoping Bernard might finally explain his sudden arrival.

  "Phage, of course," he said, looking confused. "Didn't I say?"

  "No, you didn't. And look, is it important? I'm assuming Phage and Jen are fine, or you'd have said, but what gives?"

  "I have a note."

  My heart stopped beating, my guts churned, my head pounded, and I just about gave up and rolled over. "You cannot be serious? I don't fucking believe it. I can't do this again. Not now. Fuck. No, absolutely not. I cannot. Once a year is enough, you hear me?" I raged at the clear sky, my fist clenched so tight my palm bled where my jagged nails dug in deep.

  "A note from Phage," Bernard added, belatedly.

  "You stupid mother… Okay, where is it? And is everything alright?"

  "How would I know? I can't read."

  "No, but I'm sure the last time I looked you had ears. Yes, there they are, on the side of your stupid head. What did she say? What's this about?"

  "Like I said, I can't read. But she said to hurry here and bring you the note she found. Everyone's fine at home, although Jen is rather moody lately, isn't she?"

  "You should talk. At least she's got an excuse. She's a hormonal young girl who just found out she's expected to go on a murder spree every year or she'll die. You just enjoy being unhappy."

  "Do not. And anyway, that's just my nature."

  Things were definitely back to normal. Bernard was stupid and grumpy. I was exasperated and grumpy. "Where's the note?" I asked with a familiar sigh, beyond exhausted by the sudden switch back to dim-witted from curiously smart.

  "Where'd you think it is?" he grumbled.

  "For fuck's sake, Bernard. Just tell me!" I shouted, overreacting maybe a touch, maybe not enough.

  "Here." Bernard waved a knobbly leg. An envelope drifted from somewhere, wafted on the breeze, then settled in my lap gently.

  I eyed the white mountain of idiocy before me and didn't even bother to ask where exactly he'd secreted it. But then I thought better of it and had to know. "Okay, how'd you do that? You keeping more secrets from me? Like the fact you can race around the country in seconds, rather than the hours and days like you've always done in the past, even with your super speed?"

  "A magician never reveals his secrets," he said, straight-faced. Or should I say long-faced?

  "Whatever." I opened the envelope and pulled out two pieces of paper. One smelled of perfume, the other of earth and damp. And beer. I raised an eyebrow to Bernard, nonplussed, but he just nodded, eager for me to read.

  I unfolded the one undoubtedly from Phage first and read the short note out loud just so Bernard wouldn't feel left out or bug me about it. "Dear Soph, haha, that sounds strange, doesn't it? Jen and I are fine, hopefully you are too. We worry about you. Come home to us soon. The phones and internet are still dead, so I had to send Bernard. Hi Bernard."

  "Hi Phage."

  "Idiot."

  "Was that in the note?" he asked.

  "No, that was me calling you an idiot. May I continue?"

  "Of course."

  I glowered at Bernard, then read the rest. "Bet he interrupted you then, didn't he? Sorry about that. So, we're fine, the animals are fine, we hope you are too. Jen and I went back to the Brewer's room to see if he'd turned up as we were worried, and Jen found a note in his slippers. Not so much a note as a clue, maybe. We aren't sure what to make of it, but it seemed important so I thought it best to send it in case you need to do anything before you come home. But please do return soon. It's a nightmare without phones. I worry, and I can't get in touch with you. I could try morphing, but don't think I'd be able to reach you, and I refuse to ask Mother for help. We love you. Phage."

  "That's nice," said Bernard. "Wonder what the other one is? Ooh, how mysterious."

  "Don't act like you don't already know. I bet you a million of whatever the fuck we use for money now that you know precisely what it is."

  "Maybe I do, maybe I don't," he said smugly.

  "You've forgotten, haven't you?"

  "Maybe I have, maybe I haven't."

  "Twat."

  "Was that in the note?"

  "What!? No, of course not. That was me calling you a twat. Because you are."

 

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