Dear Diary,

Maybe I'm wrong. Maybe this has nothing to do with me, nothing to do with my inability to learn better, or pick better friends, or trust the right people. Maybe breaking time and space wasn't the consequence of my actions, even the second order consequence of empowering somebody else to help someone without retaining control over that power. Maybe I didn't fuck up time and space so badly that I'm feeling myself slowly drift further and further from my kids, my ladies, my family, my home.

Maybe the fates have relapsed. Not just a mild slip up where they snorted a single line off the particularly luscious booty of the stripper they called in when they got drunk. No, they'd gone straight, but never cancelled their subscription to the crack of the month club. Couldn't bring themselves to open the package and read the instructions for how to stop receiving boxes every month. But eventually they needed space on their porch for their Amazon deliveries. When they went to clean that shit off, the boxes near the bottom, the ones that sat out in the weather for like a year, those boxes broke, spilling those janky skanky stanky crystals all over the place.

They might have gotten away without relapsing if the box that broke wasn't the one with the novelty crack pipe shaped like Keanu Reeves' sweet, sweet lips. Honestly, with that kind of temptation I can't even blame them. I mean, I can hold them responsible for the shit that happened after they burned through every single bit of old moldy crack cocaine that had been sitting on their porch for over a year. But that's an entirely different thing than blaming them for their obviously impossible to resist relapse.

One moment I stood in Johnny's place, my tentacle resting along Adrienne's spine, full of Mana and ready to support her. Jack made his wish, Adrienne's Blessing kicked in, and in the complete lack of coherence that followed I shoved something resembling a shitty, jury-rigged causality out of chunks of reality end over ending like big sheets of ice tumbling and breaking when some idiot steps on a bit that's too thin.

The three of us stood in the darkening gloom of an old growth forest right after sunset, on an overcast night. I watched in wireframe as Adrienne shuddered, Mana flowing out of her into Jack in a torrent as he became the shadow he'd cast of himself. Yeah, it made no fuckin' sense, but he just kind of expanded that way, while simultaneously going a shade of dark that I saw even in wireframe. Of course, when he leaned forward I realized while he stood at least a head taller than he had been, while still being as dad bod thick as he used to be, he was at least a head shorter than he should have been, what with his complete lack of a head. Hyper-violet wisps leaked from his neck.

"Adrienne! Run!"

He looked up at me, and she took that momentary distraction as a chance to spring away from him. Oddly enough, he didn't seem to see me as I pushed my Blend back up and sidled over to her, pulling her away from him with my tentacle slipping around her waist as I did so. His hands reached out, grasping at air, a snuffling sound coming from his neck for a few moments before he leaned back and, improbably as it sounds, whistled.

Adrienne and I still creeping away, he went back to sweeping his arms back and forth, trying to discover where we'd gone. I got Adrienne maybe a half dozen yards away from him, pumping Stabilizing Mana back into her the whole time, when she whispered, "but I must woo him."

The big fucker lunged at the sound of her voice, and only the distance and me yanking at her out of the way kept her head on her shoulders. "We'll figure it out, but for now just run!"

Jack spun on his heel at my shout, swiping at me with one big paw as I shoved Adrienne away down what looked to be a poorly trodden path through the undergrowth. Fortunately, Adrienne is smarter than me, and apparently doesn't have Blend, so she's used to doing shit without it. While I pushed mine up and slid sideways to avoid Jack and follow Adrienne, she moved away down the path. Not running, but carefully stepping away in absolute silence. I kept a tentacle around her waist, but let her go while I watched headless Jack sweeping his arms around looking for us.

In the silence that reigned after that, the deep silence of a cold autumn night in a forest with a predator on the hunt, I heard two things. One, from beyond Jack, the thudding footfalls and not-quite-horse whickering that it took me a moment to recognize as a Nightmare. Second, from beyond Adrienne, downhill, the sound of a rushing stream. I Translocated over next to her, hoping I could whisper what I'd just remembered from old Halloween kids horror shows. The moment I did, Jack's lack of a head snapped around, aligning his body with us. He charged, arms spread. "Run!" I hissed, then dropped to the ground and rolled toward him.

His foot slamming into me hurt on so many fuckin' levels. Beyond the searing, draining pain so akin to Miasma, not to mention getting a size fuck you boot tryna plant itself through my spine, it embarrassed the fuck out of me that since I didn't want to hurt him, all I could do was be a fuckin' tripping hazard. Need to find non-lethal ways to stop Undead now, I guess. Fortunately Jack's balance wasn't any better than his vision; he went sprawling on his face. I kipped up and lit out after Adrienne, who'd finally taken the hint and started running.

I Translocated beside her and, just loud enough for her to hear over the sound of her own footfalls, said, "get across the river. He can't cross it!"

She hissed back, "that's vampires!"

Of course, when we finally got to the river, I had to grab her to keep her from sliding down the slick bank into the rushing waters. The muddy road running alongside the river wasn't the greatest traction, but better than the slip and slide down into the rocks. I looked up and down the road; in the distance I saw something like a bridge. I pointed. "get across the bridge! I'll distract him!"

She panted out, "what about wooing him?"

"Look, if we can find something to put in between your squishy all too killable body and his Undead Miasma and big old grabby hands, we can try to talk to him. But right now get across that bridge!"

She darted off, cursing at me under her breath. Yes, I could have lifted her across, but no, I wasn't gonna. I needed to test the whole river thing, and that meant getting her out of the way, buying some space. A moment later the not quite hoofbeats of a Nightmare echoed down the path we'd come down. When I looked, I didn't need my wireframe vision to see Jack; the blazing Jack O' Lantern atop his shoulders lit him and everything around him up with an absolutely horrific blue green fire.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

He saw me standing there at the end of the path and raised a sword with a flickering, burning blade to point at me. "Head!" he hissed.

I swear, I almost lost it and fucked up my whole plan right there. "Yeah, no. Not into incest, thanks!"

He didn't say anything else, just rode at me, the short sword clutched in his right hand sweeping out to one side. I waited until the very last moment, then Translocated backward across the river. Weirdest thing, it seemed to pull at me as I did, like jumping through the Keep's Threshold. I landed in a spray of literally freezing water, icicles dripping from me, some snapping off and shattering on the ground.

Meanwhile Jack, who could easily have made the leap, slid his Nightmare to a rearing stop. When he got his Nightmare more or less under control, he pointed that sword at me again, moaning out, "your head!"

"What's the matter, Jack? Can't cross running water?" I shouted, hoping that Adrienne would get the message. I very carefully did not glance toward her.

Of course, right about then she called back, "still vampires!"

Jack's head snapped around. I followed his pumpkin headed gaze to see Adrienne most of the way to the bridge. He spurred his Nightmare into a gallop, charging after her. She might have been snarking, but she never stopped running. Unfortunately, Nightmares are fast as fuck. Fortunately, my girl Adrienne had timing; right before Jack's sword swept across her shoulders, she threw herself sideways, landing on the first boards of the rickety wooden bridge. By the time he got himself stopped and turned around, she'd made it halfway across the bridge.

Where she stopped.

Jack danced his Nightmare back and forth. Eventually he moaned out, "give me your head!"

Adrienne put her hands on her hips, tilted her head, and called out, "I'm not averse to the act, but your approach leaves much to be desired!"

Jack went still at that. I realized right then that the Nightmare he rode wasn't quite the same variety as the ones in our stables. This thing was black as pitch, and its eyes burned with the same unearthly flame as Jack's head and sword. A sword he sheathed in his saddle. Like, not along the side or anything; he shoved that shit right into middle of the saddle until it had two saddle horns. Great, undead feline murder horse on top of juggernaut dullahan.

As he drew himself up, probably to make additional demands of a cranial nature, Adrienne snorted and snarked, "at least offer some reciprocation. Like a gentleman!"

I couldn't help it, I barked out a laugh. She turned her head to smile and wink at me.

The moment she did, Jack reached up, grabbed his flaming Jack O' Lantern head, and yeeted that thing in a flat arc right toward Adrienne. Not to put too fine a point on it, right for her head. She turned back to him. The instant before his flaming missile struck her, she brought her hands up.

And caught it.

I heard her hiss of pain. The hiss of her palms sizzling in that blue green flame. The hiss from Jack's pumpkin mouth and neck alike as she held it out, then walked over to the edge of the bridge, holding the burning pumpkin out over the rushing water.

"No..." he moaned out.

"I'm not your enemy," she said, clear enough I heard her from the far end of the bridge. "I'm not your prey." His hissing moan took on a confused quality. "I am your partner, Jack."

"No." he hissed.

"Dismount." He drew himself up, reaching for his sword hilt. She waggled his pumpkin head over the river. "Unless you'd rather learn to swim?"

He swung a leg over his mount, and as he slid to the ground, it dissipated into mist and smoke. "My head," he moaned out.

"No more riding that thing." He snarled, and she took a step toward him. I wanted to scream at her, but this is why we were here. Not to run away forever, but for her to find some way to connect to him. I sure as shit had no idea how she was gonna do that, so I let her cook. Of course right then she gave me cause to doubt her sanity, even as I admired her chutzpah. "Ride me instead."

Yeah, I think Jack and I both got caught flatfooted by that. He'd been standing there, frustrated rage clear from his posture, but with those words it kinda leaked out of him until he stood there, kinda limp and loose. I swear the pumpkin in her hands tilted a little, and then he moaned out, "what?"

"Come to me, Jack. Trust your wife. I will not let you fall. Ride. Me." When the pumpkin made confused Jack noises, she stage whispered, her voice sultry, "ride me like the loa you are, Jack."

She took a step forward, turning his head to face him. At that point I noticed her hands slowly blackening, the blue green unholy flames licking at them. But she'd left behind blue-white handprints on his pumpkin head. The moment he saw himself, his body stumbled backward. "No."

He hadn't sounded angry. Not even afraid. Just confused still. "Yes. Come to me, husband. Trust me. I will not let you fall."

He took a tentative step forward. I couldn't tell if the shuddering came from the bridge, complaining about what had to be three hundred pounds of headless man stepping onto it, or him, trying to force himself to face his weakness. He hissed and froze, unable to force himself to take another step.

"It's okay, Jack. You cannot cross the water. I know. Your steed, your rage made manifest, cannot cross either." She stopped just out of reach of him. He lifted one arm, slowly, not trying to grab her, just reaching for her. "Your wrath is part of you. The part Mortals and Gods alike dare not test."

She shuffled the tiniest bit closer, and he stood there, frozen in the act of reaching for her. Trembling. "But it is part of you, my Husband. I embrace it, as I embrace the rest of you."

Then my crazy-assed daughter did yet another crazy-assed thing. She lifted the flaming pumpkin head up, holding it out toward him. Then she pulled it back and put it on over her own head like a fuckin' mask. I had no idea if the squishy squelching sound was the bottom of the fuckin' pumpkin or Adrienne's head, because the moment it touched her hair the fire flared up, forcing me to close my eyes lest they dry up into little hazel raisins.

When I blinked them open, Adrienne stood in the middle of the bridge, Jack's pumpkin head on her shoulders, her hair alight with that sickly blue green flame. She reached out, her feet still planted where they'd been, and her fingers intertwined with Jack's.

The moment their fingers touched, he melted into shadow. His feet went first, wisps of shadow racing up his legs, around his torso, along his arm, and across to wrap around her arm. In moments his whole form melted, wrapping her in shadows thicker than the flames. The shadows and flames flickered and writhed, and she dropped her arms to her sides, spreading them out the tiniest bit. Through the shadow I thought I saw her roll her head, like stretching a kink out of her neck, and a strange tinkling, clinking sound filled the air.

The shadows flowed down, revealing something that looked like a blue-white ceramic pumpkin atop her shoulders. As I watched, pure blue flames flowed from the top, down the sides, down her back, a waterfall of flaming blue hair. She turned to face me, and I blinked again as I saw a nearly smooth ceramic surface, the only feature a narrow triangular nose. Then she laid a hand on her chest, made a fist, and pulled that fuckin' flaming short sword right out of her sternum, only much like her hair and the flames in her nose, the flame burned bright, clean blue.

Her ceramic eyes slid open and she stared at me, dropping her sword arm to her side in the kind of relaxed pose that spoke of imminent mayhem. I didn't want to start shit, but I swear orifices puckered when her flaming blue triangular eyes narrowed. It did not help when her mouth opened, showing pointed, carved looking triangular teeth across the top and bottom of her mouth. Her voice almost made me miss her words, a terrifying woman's moan of anguish, with a thousand other, more masculine echoes dancing around every syllable. It took me a solid ten count before her words registered.

"So, Mama. How do we look?"

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