The Late Jade Wildheart

Shrouded in darkness they sat, contemplating their peculiar circumstances. A short, nearly bald man in a bulging, three-piece denim leisure suit sat rigidly in a loudly patterned accent chair. Fifteen floors up in a moderately expensive hotel chain, deep in downtown Los Angeles, the night sky was starless from the artificial glow of streetlights and signs.

“Do you, uh…” He cleared his throat. “Would you like a piece?” he asked hesitantly of the towering woman to his left. The man lifted a small white plate with a decadent piece of chocolate cake in the center, each alternating black and cream layer perfect in thickness and straightness. A piece of ephemeral art, a masterpiece in the otherwise bland, cookie-cutter hotel room.

She whipped her head in his direction, looking down at him. Her eyes flashed yellow, wild, and he instinctively recoiled at the glare.

“Werewolves cannot eat chocolate, Eugene. It’s deadly.” She sighed heavily, and added, “As if you didn’t already know that.” She clicked her red-bottomed shoe on the laminate wood floor.

“I was just being pol—”

“Enough,” she interrupted. “We’re not here to eat cake and have a pleasant conversation.”

It was clear she would rather be anywhere but here, with him of all people. And, well… Eugene didn’t want to be there either, but he was trying to make the best of their immediate situation.

“Since when do vampires eat cake?” she muttered, rolling her eyes, arms crossed tightly across her charcoal blazer. Looking past him, she stared out a floor-length window across the supposedly noisy street below, though nothing could be heard with the window shut tight.

“I don’t know.” Eugene shrugged and looked down at his lonely slice of chocolate cake. “It was just there on the credenza when I got here.” He took a bite. Contrary to popular belief, vampires did like food, and the occasional cup of coffee or glass of wine; they just didn’t need it to survive. That was where the blood came into play.

She eyed the square cake sitting atop a lovely glass platter on the credenza. Looking as though she was going to retort, she opened her mouth slightly, but before she could the hotel room door opened to a brightly lit hallway. Blinding light dazzled their eyes to squinting until it shut again. Two men had walked in; a shorter man in a yellow bowtie, and a taller, lankier man, with a pocket watch hanging off his waist, who got straight to the point.

“Mr. Eugene Schwarz and Ms. Theodora Lupo. You have been summoned by Willow and Grable Associates for the reading of the late Ms. Jade Wildheart’s final will and testament. I am Mr. Munklin, associate partner, and this is my assistant, Mr. Lockborrow.”

The shorter man with the yellow bowtie, Mr. Lockborrow, hurried forward and laid his briefcase on the hotel room desk, opening it with a bold click of metal clasps. He took out a single piece of paper—but not just any piece of paper. It was a substantial length of scroll, glinting with gold edges and gold lettering. It glimmered in the nighttime lights filtering in from the city outside the hotel room window. Eugene still held his plate of chocolate cake firmly in his stubby hand, and took another bite without taking his eyes from the highly anticipated document.

“To Mr. Schwarz and Ms. Lupo,” Mr. Munklin said austerely, “Ms. Jade Bernice Hogsly Wildheart, esteemed witch of Dundeshire, leaves to you both the following:

“To Mr. Schwarz, my silver dagger, and the wisdom to follow your heart.

“To Ms. Lupo, my glass compass, and the will to know your way to the future, not the past.

“To you both, my complete Chronicles of Life, volumes eight thru twenty-four, my collection of spell books and documents of magics, and my cottage out east in the moors of Dundeshire.” Mr. Munklin cleared his throat. “She noted here: May your two hearts be still beside one hearth and find courage in the bleak of night.”

With that proclamation, Mr. Munklin rolled up the scroll and placed it back in the briefcase. He then retrieved two items on small red velvet pillows.

Walking forward with one, he held out the pillow holding a thin, ornate silver dagger. “Mr. Schwarz,” Mr. Munklin prompted. Eugene took the dagger from the pillow and held it up to the little light there was in the room to examine the inlaid handle. The lawyer pivoted left, and held out the second pillow, with a round, glass compass nestled softly on the fabric. Theodora reached out a gnarled hand, the only hint of her condition when in human form; her fingers were boney and knobby, with large, thick yellow nails. She quickly slid the compass into her inside blazer pocket and re-crossed her arms.

“And the deed and keys to the cottage,” the assistant stepped forward; Eugene and Theodora looked at the paper and accompanying large metal key, at Mr. Lockborrow with his hand extended expectantly, and then at each other.

“For us both?” Theodora questioned, raising one impeccably plucked eyebrow. She reached out to retrieve the key and deed, looking quizzically down at her, their, new possession.

“Indeed,” Mr. Munklin confirmed.

Evidently that was meant to be the final word; the two gentlemen turned on their heels and began to exit the hotel room. Then the assistant whispered something, prompting Mr. Munklin to stop and half turn.

“Yes, the letter.” Gesturing toward his companion, he said, “Guillermo, if you will, please.”

The briefcase was opened and closed one more time, after a large red envelope was withdrawn. Mr. Lockborrow stepped forward and handed the letter to Theodora. Eugene continued to grasp the small plate of cake with one hand and the silver dagger with the other, seemingly caught in inaction. The two lawyers exited without another word, with a swift flash of hallway light, before Eugene and Theodora were back to sitting alone together in near total darkness.

“I suppose…” Theodora began, but she was cut off.

“Let’s open it!” Eugene said enthusiastically.

“Would you like to do the honors?” She held the red envelope out toward Eugene. He eagerly put his plate to rest on his rotund knees, and let the priceless dagger nestle against the chocolate layers, messing the blade. He took the envelope and read aloud:

Dearest Friends,

It is my highest hope that in my absence you will come together and dissolve old grudges. For this reason, I leave to you my life’s work, and my two most precious possessions in hopes that you will complete my Chronicles’ quest, together.

In the cottage you will find all you need to bring to light what I’ve hypothesized for years. Bring it to light and bring together your hearts. Do not let the fires of rage smolder under the bridge, release rapid waters before the bridge burns to dust.

The compass will guide you; the dagger protects you. Be strong in your hearts and trust in each other.

Your forever friend,

Jade

“What?” Theodora asked indignantly, grabbing the letter back from Eugene. “This can’t be right. She wants us to work together?” Her eyes searched the document to corroborate what he’d read aloud, before she started to crumple the letter in her large, strong hands.

“It seems so,” Eugene said. A smile was beginning to bloom across his round, pale face.

“Eugene,” she snapped. “I don’t—”

“We’ll have to make the most of it,” he said, cutting her off dismissively, excitedly. “After all, we must honor Jade’s final wishes.” Standing, he crossed the room to place his plate on the credenza near the remainder of the cake. Next, he turned to face Theodora and fussily pulled down his suit jacket and vest, straightening them. “A grand adventure!” He threw his hands out to the side in celebration.

“Eugene, no.” She was standing tall, her muscular arms crossed rigidly across her chest, per usual.

“Jade was always secretive about her studies into dragon lore, we must feel honored she’s chosen us to continue her work. It was both our faults we weren’t with her in the end, after all…” Seeing Theodora’s shoulders slump and her head hang ever so slightly, he pressed on. “We cannot deny her this last wish. Plus, she picked well. I know we’ve had our differences, but if she saw you at my side in this quest, I trust Jade.”

Theodora rolled her eyes again with a deep huff. “Fine. Just don’t get too excited, and this might work.” Eugene smiled toothily, while she walked over to the hotel bed where she’d put her purse and picked it up, swinging it over her right shoulder. “But when we get to the cottage, you’re sleeping on the couch.”

They both took a few strides toward the door to the hallway, side by side for the first time in years. Maybe it wasn’t clear what Jade sought to happen by sending them on this quest, but she knew her friends alright, and they wouldn’t give up on her final wish.

© Jasper A. Flintsmith 2021