Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) by Justus R. Stone

up in defense. “No one is telling you how to parent Gwynn. No one is questioning the job you’ve done so far. After all, you brought a boy, shattered by tragedy, and turned him into a successful young man. But I don’t think Gwynn is going to know how to talk to you about what he’s going through. I want him to be able to do what he needs without damaging the relationship the two of you have.”
    “So what? Now you’re Doctor–Fucking–Phil, here to save our relationship?”
    “I’m just saying the boy might act more secretive. He might not act his usual self, and I don’t want you to worry he’s doing drugs or anything illicit.”
    “Then what is happening?” Her voice elevated in a pleading edge. She hated appearing weak in front of this man.
    “When the time is right, he’ll tell you.”
    She opened her mouth to say more, to press for answers, but the man held up his hand.
    “He is the one who should tell you Jaimie, leave it at that.”
    Jaimie bit into her lip, afraid to ask the next question—knowing she must. “And when will you show up to collect on what’s due?”
    The man smiled. “There will be no need to collect anything. In the end, Gwynn will come to us.”

10/ The Man on the Other Side of the World
    Gwynn barely noticed the world passing by out the car window. The last time he travelled to the Cameron house, Sophia sat beside him. Now, not even two weeks later, she’d gone insane and he’d become some sort of freak. The man in the seat next to him remained quiet. He should be asking more questions. Hadn’t he wanted to know more? Hadn’t that been why he called Pridament?
    No. He had called out of fear. Having seen Sophia, alone and mad, he worried he would go the same way. Maybe Pridament could validate his experience. Maybe he wasn’t insane and there was a logical explanation.
    But Pridament had opened more doors than he had closed. His explanations led to more confusion. In trying to convince Gwynn of the noble and powerful origins of his experiences, he had overloaded him. Now he just couldn’t make himself feel that interested.
    When his parents died, it taught him things just happen. Although Pridament seemed to think some act of fate existed, Gwynn couldn’t see it. Life consisted of a series of accidents. Patterns appeared because people searched for them—a vain hope that it all served some purpose. What happened to him was just the universe having another brain fart. Just another random complication to shove in a dark place and forget.
    Pridament shattered the silence. “What does the sky look like to you?”
    Gwynn peered out the window. “Grey, overcast.” His head pounded. Staring up at the sky made it worse.
    “Mhmm” Pridament responded.
    They were reaching the outskirts of town, crossing Gwynn’s imaginary line between the concrete realm and the realm of nature. In the concrete world, things made sense. Man forced his will on the world and broke it into order. Out here, beyond the control of steel and cement, things were wilder. Had he seen beauty in it once? Just several days ago, as they passed into it, had he not considered it a bad thing that the cement should push further? Yes, but the Cameron house taught him, just as a dark country road nine years earlier, nature should not to be trusted—could humans and their unfeeling manufactured stone? No, but people were far more predictable.
    They turned down the country road. As they neared the house Gwynn’s headache and the throbbing in his arm intensified.
    “Shiiiit.”
    “Getting worse?” Pridament asked.
    “Yes.” Gwynn grit his teeth and drew breath in short gasps.
    “It’s because you’re getting closer to the source. All Anunnakis feel some discomfort when we’re near a tear in the Veil, but because this one has been leaching onto you so long, you’re far more susceptible.”
    “Whatever. Let’s just get this done.”
    The car stopped and Gwynn lurched out. His stomach convulsed and the