I bypassed the house for the garage, where I grabbed a hammer and a pry bar. From there I hobbled to the kitchen and poured a glass of whiskey. In honor of Clancy, I left the root beer in the refrigerator. I headed down to the basement to Simon's casket.

Driven by an increasingly drunken fury, I wailed on the golden lock until my hands hurt. The wood splintered before the hinge bent, but the cracks proved sufficient to get the prybar into and I twisted and yanked at it, even standing on a chair so that I could stomp it. It took a while but eventually, I managed to pull the damnable thing open.

Empty.

Just a layer of rocks to simulate weight.

I couldn't say I was surprised.

When I stepped back out onto the front porch, I found myself bathed in the headlights of an idling car. A door opened and Amelia stepped out. She didn't rush to me like she was there to help. Nor was her expression that of surprise or bewilderment. She kept her distance, as if she may need to leap back into the vehicle. "Are you okay?" she asked with a measure of passivity as if I'd just had a bad day at the office.

I pondered this question, researching my answer by glancing over my shoulder at the yard full of bodies. Finally, I looked myself up and down, taking stock of torn and bloodied clothing and skin. I wobbled briefly, righted myself, and said, "I'm fine. How are you?"

"I'm so sorry, Finnigan. If I had known..."

This made me blink. "Huh? Known what?"

She didn't answer.

"Known what?" I demanded louder.

The passenger door opened, and someone got out. With the headlights in my face, I couldn't make out who it was.

"Is she dead?"

"Who are you?" I asked. A man stepped into view.

"Is she dead? Is the Saint dead?" he asked again, almost frantically.

"Yeah. She's dead."

He let out an excited whoop and rushed around the front of the car to stand before me. "Are you sure, Finnigan? Are you absolutely sure?"

My vision blurred a bit and I had to squint. It had been many years and we'd both aged, but I recognized him.

"Uncle Simon?"

"Is she truly dead? You saw the body?"

I nodded, too dumbfounded to speak.

He clapped his hands. "What a glorious day. I never thought they'd pull it off. But they did, didn't they? Those three wonderous bastards."

"What are you saying?"

"Do you know how long I've guarded this stupid shack and plot of land? Practically my entire adult life. I haven't left this shithole town in over forty years. My knowledge and abilities make me one of the most influential magicians on the planet, yet here I rot. You want to know why?" He ranted right over my response. "Because my powers made me the perfect foil for the damnable Saint of Shadows. So, I've been tasked with guarding this stupid dimensional doorway, which I can't even open, from her."

Simon held out a hand. A glow emitted from it, strands of light stretching between each finger, like webbing on an amphibian. It brightened until I had to avert my eyes as it flared like a miniature sun.

Under every other possible life circumstance, I would have been awestruck but at this moment all the display did was annoy me. "You could have just burned her up."

The light faded and his hand returned to normal. "Maybe. No conflict is certain and I didn't deserve to die after wasting my life here. It was one of my main sources of frustration. In direct conflict, I could take advantage of her most exposed weakness. It was why she never attacked here. She just posted her followers around to monitor me, watching for me to let my guard down or, God forbid, take a damn vacation to Aruba or Jamaica and sit on the beach with a pina colada. I couldn't go after her because then I'd be leaving the site exposed. So, my entire life has revolved around this ridiculous impasse. Playing a waiting game with a sorceress that doesn't age! Try to imagine that Finnigan."

"I lost most of my empathy when you whined about a pina colada."

He furrowed his brow in anger. "Oh, I'm not whining. I served the good cause long enough. I never found a successor to pass this labor off to. Eventually, I would have died of old age and the Saint would have waltzed right in with no resistance at all."

"McGavin. Sil. Clancy. They're all dead. Why the trickery? Why not just hire them to do the dirty work?"

"You think I didn't consider hiring assassins to take her out? Anyone powerful enough to go after her was smart enough not to take the job. You can't spend when you're dead. And this probably doesn't need to be said out loud but being a glorified magical security guard doesn't pay very well, so I never really had the funds to hire anyone anyway."

Simon's scheme started to knit itself together in my head. "You helped them so that they'd feel obligated to return the favor."

"I helped them because they needed help. I was the one who took them off their villainous paths. I made them better beings. It's only natural that when I was dying," he made air quotes on the last word, "and asked them to defend you, my apprentice, that they felt it was the right thing to do."

"But I'm not your apprentice. And you're not dead," I snapped.

Simon shrugged. "I needed them to get involved of their own free will. They had to believe, that for once in their blood-soaked lives, they were fighting for something bigger than themselves. I needed them to be angry but righteous. Violent but noble. They needed to believe that this was a fight worth breaking their vows for. That they were doing the right thing. Believe me, this was as close to a sacrificial redemption as those three could get." He crossed his arms. "They should be grateful."

I seethed. If not for my injuries, fatigue, and the realization that Uncle Simon may possess the ability to set my ass on fire, I would have slugged him on the spot. Even the thought of such exertion proved too much, and I sank to my knees in the grass. Amelia wiped away tears before getting back into the car.

Before they drove away, I shouted, "They were your friends."

"You're right," Simon replied through the window. "And it always pays to have friends in low places."

End

Chapter Words - 1113

Total Word Count - 23,780