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Back in the fourth grade Annville Elementary put on a production of “Love Lost,” a play stuffed with violence, betrayal, and all sorts of irreverent values, just perfect for their strange, little town. The story centered on an adulterous husband—played by the reverend’s son, Jesse Custer—and his wife, now hell-bent on winning him back. That role went to Tulip O’Hare, newly transferred and already making a name for herself on the playground.
Tulip and Jesse got along like a house on fire and if the rehearsal rumors were anything to go on, opening night would be one hell of a show. Everyone wanted to be there and indeed, everyone was entertained.
“Hello, darling.” Tulip said. Line delivered she raised her hand under the shoddy spotlight, the audience ooo-ing at what was to come.
Except that when her hand came back down it wasn’t to deliver the fake, gentle slap that they’d been aiming for, the one she and Jesse had practiced. After all, where was the fun in that predictability? Where was the pizazz? Instead Tulip pulled back with a strength that widened Jesse’s eyes, her 50’s costume swirling around her ankles, and the smirk on her lips a perfect match for the character—devious and pissed.
That night, Tulip broke Jesse’s nose.
Which was, in retrospect, the greatest thing that had ever happened to him. Because while their parents were crying out at the real blood that suddenly splattered the stage, while Mr. Roland faltered in their music, while Mrs. Evans cried out for order, while there were gasps and applause and all sorts going on, Jesse had his head bent to the stage floor, hiding a blinding smile.
He’d known it was her... and now this proved it. Tonight the words “Hello, darling” on Jesse’s left wrist burned a bright red before simmering down, going back to their usual grey color, but leaving—like the good ache after a run—a noticeable throb. The words were no longer resting against his flesh, but seared there… and despite the pain, Jesse’s smile widened.
Tulip O’Hare was his Soulmate.
Which made that moment twenty-five years later all the more confusing. When Jesse was trying to drown his sorrows at the local pub and some Irish asshole walked in, sitting too close and chugging a bottle of Rat Water with impressive speed. When he’d belched out half the booze the guy turned to Jesse and drawled out:
“Hello, darlin’.”
And for the second time in his life, Jesse’s tattoo burned.
***
Annville was no stranger to secrets. They were the town’s currency, its lifeblood even, and like any good elixir it kept everything running, smooth as silk. That was the only reason why Tulip wasn’t concerned with Jesse’s juvenile attitude. Oh, she could deal with his whining and bitching about not wanting to go back to work. Boy was always like that and Tulip knew she’d drag him back eventually—the whole ‘destined to be together’ part was just icing on the cake. No, what made her itch was the fact that Jesse was obviously keeping secrets. And hell, if he could have his then she sure as hell was gonna cultivate hers.
It was the only reason why she’d decided to shack up with a goddamn vampire of all things, in the back of her car and already half-high on the pills he’d gotten her. Some little niggling part of Tulip’s conscious asked why she had to make the world all bright and fuzzy to go through with this, but she firmly told it to go fuck itself with a chainsaw. She was a woman with needs after all, and Jesse wasn’t fulfilling those needs right now. More importantly, Jesse fucking deserved it and it wasn’t like people never sampled outside of their Soulmate.
Hell, Tulip rationalized as she let Cassidy stuff his hands up her shirt, she was pretty sure Stephen got himself a nice piece of ass every time he went on a new ‘business trip’ and everyone and their mother knew that old Billy wasn’t Martha’s Soulmate. Only one reason why a woman wore long sleeves in this kind of heat and it wasn’t to hide her wrinkles. There were people whose tattoos never burned, or faded, or just went cold against their skin. That searing pain took hold not just when your Soulmate said the words, but when they said them in the moment they loved you. It was magical, yes, but no one claimed that such a love couldn’t fade.
“You’re fuckin’ beautiful, you are,” Cassidy murmured, trailing a string of wet, sloppy kisses over Tulip’s collarbone, then down over her breasts as he hiked up her shirt. He unclasped her bra and took a nipple between his teeth. It was a soft touch, damn tender, and so far removed from what she’d get from Jesse that Tulip ground against him in a rage, drawing a startled gasp out of Cassidy that sent him sprawling onto the seat, his hands scrambling up against the window and his legs boxing Tulip in. She liked him better like this: in the car’s shadows and spread out before her, complacent. In fact, he looked so much like a meal that Tulip bent forward, snaking her mouth around his neck to bite.
Cassidy yelped, his body jerking like she’d given him an electric shock. “Hey there, love! I’m the one who’s supposed to be doin’ that...”
“Not to me you’re not.”
There. It wasn’t much, but Tulip caught what little blood she’d drawn between her lips. She rolled it around her tongue, trying to savor it as she would a fine wine, and when she was done she covered Cassidy again, licking a strip over the wound with a sluggishness that had him shivering.
Cassidy suddenly surged up, wrapping both hands in her hair and forcing her down for a kiss, lapping at the residual taste there and keening into her mouth. It knocked Tulip sideways. For the first time images of Jesse dissipated and she was left with nothing but Cassidy, surprisingly hot against her and wearing far too many clothes. She snatched the ratty shirt he was wearing, tore it in half, and in the echo of his laugh Tulip brought his hands up to her lips, sucking and nipping there.
Oh, she’d seen his Mark before. Or at least she’d seen the outline of it, its existence only just there against Cassidy’s left wrist. It was so faded that Tulip hadn’t been able to make out the words, not even when she’d cleared the blood away that night in the car, wondering who the hell she would have to track down and admit that she’d murdered their Soulmate. It had been a sickening moment—literally, in the footwell—and it had been made all the worse by the fact that Tulip couldn’t read them. Of course, she hadn’t known at the time just how old Cassidy was, allowing his phrase to fade to an extent that either meant love lost or never found... and frankly she didn’t know which would be worse.
Two minutes later they were at the hospital and Tulip had forgot all about it.
Except now, even with nothing but the stars and a flickering street lamp for light, Tulip thought the Mark looked darker against Cassidy’s wrist. More there. More real. Perhaps she would have drawn conclusions from that if he hadn’t been doing something thoroughly obscene to her stomach. As it was, this change only registered when she turned his left hand to her mouth, intent on giving it the same treatment as the right.
And right there were the words, shocking and intimately familiar:
Until the end of the world.
Slowly, as if in a dream, Tulip pulled back the sleeve of her blouse to press her left wrist against Cassidy’s. The images there were like mirror images to each other. Except… no. That wasn’t quite right. They were identical.
“Love?”
Tulip drew in a sharp breath and hauled Cassidy up by his hair. Ignoring his cry, she shoved her wrist in his face and pressed it there until he went cross-eyed.
“What the FUCK IS THIS!”
***
III.
His whole body burned. Not surprising given the fight he’d just been in. Jesse couldn’t remember the last time he’d beat down so many guys at once and though Donnie’s men might be lacking in the brains department, he hadn’t been lying to his boy about them being strong—and mean. From the arches of his feet up to his growing headache, Jesse’s body throbbed like a bad tooth...and it was only this that allowed him to keep his cool.
“The hell kind of a preacher are you, anyway? Jesus.”
Curled in the town’s jail cell, the Irish guy was blathering on and on and Jesse allowed himself to blather back, instinctually; to answer without any real thought behind his words.
(Once, in a motel room far east, he’d think back and wonder how he’d managed to hold a conversation without giving it any attention. How had it truly been an instinct? But that would come later, much later).
Now, Jesse’s focus was entirely on his body. He catalogued every injury and each accompanying feeling, because if he could count enough he could explain away them all, right down to the burning sensation on his wrist.
…except Jesse knew that if he pulled back his sleeve he’d see no injury there.
“Cassidy,” the man finally said, only when the conversation had worn down.
“Jesse Custer.”
They were both right handed. Fingers slid together in a simple act of courtesy, palm-to-palm and dry meeting a nervous sweat. Their left hands remained hidden at their sides and if Cassidy noticed that Jesse kept his slightly behind his back, he didn’t say anything.
“Real pleasure to meet you,” Cass said, all cheeky grin and hazel eyes.
Perhaps it was psychosomatic, or a self-fulfilling prophecy, but whatever the hell you wanted to call it, Jesse was suddenly convinced that he could fall in love with those eyes.
“Yeah,” he muttered. “Same.”
It was true, and Jesse’s Mark burned.
***
IV.
“That’s not fucking possible,” Tulip hissed.
For the first time all three of them were together and in retrospect this meeting should have taken place somewhere other than the church’s broom closet. In further retrospect, they couldn’t much help if Jesse barged in unexpectedly.
Goddamn force of nature.
“Not possible,” she re-emphasized. Tulip gripped her hair briefly in frustration before reaching behind her, grabbing hold of the first thing her fingers found. It ended up being a small pot and, impromptu weapon as it was, Cass and Jesse both took a step back.
“Now, love…” Cass began.
“Don’t you ‘love’ me, you overgrown weed. Have either of you assholes ever heard of someone having two Soulmates? Or identical Marks? Well?”
Jesse pursed his lips. One hand lifted, unwitting, to his chest.
“No,” he admitted, “but I’ve never heard of this thing inside me either, Tulip. That sure as hell didn’t seem possible until it was.”
“What ‘thing’?”
So Jesse told Tulip to kiss him, his eyes flashing red and his voice unearthly in its command. She immediately surged forward and pulled him down between her hands, the pot shattering to the floor at Cass’ feet. He watched, enraptured, as the two most important people in his life came together and marveled at how this close to them he somehow didn’t feel like the third wheel.
Or hell, maybe he did. Damn fucking cart was supposed to have three wheels. Or five.
When Jesse finished he eased Tulip back by her hips. She blinked, dazzled, before promptly slapping him across the cheek. The sound echoed off the small space and made Cass laugh.
“What a group we are,” he said, spreading his arms like it was all a show.
Tulip glared, her hand shaking as she pointed at Jesse. “You’re gonna explain that, and you—” she trailed off, looking faintly disgusted… as well as intrigued.
“Do you want to fuck him?” she demanded of Cass, pointing to the obscene dent in his pants. His smile, when it came, was slow and sure.
“Ah, love. You have no fuckin’ idea.”
***
V.
Like all little tykes, Cass’ Mark was too small to see as an infant and they didn’t have anything fancy like a magnifying glass in his household. No, in the olden days you waited it out like your parents had and your parents’ parents, both eager and fearful to learn what kind of secret your own body had to tell you. Cass had always been a twig of a boy too, so he’d nearly hit puberty before it was possible to read the damn thing properly.
Until the end of the world.
Such a long Mark, looping side-to-side and still so small you could never hope to read it across a room. The script was obviously identical to everyone else’s, yet if anyone had bothered to ask (which they did not), Cass would have told them plainly that his words were harder than those of his family, neighbors, or comrades. Harder? his imaginary audience asked. Yes, Cass responded. A firmer touch, like ink bleeding straight through to the opposite side of the page. Whoever spoke these words to him would be one tough son of a bitch, they could mark his words here and now.
Not that such thoughts carried him far. At ten his Mark had been foster for teasing, speculation, and—worst of all—viewed as not just a promise, but a prediction. Ladies didn’t think much of him back then, and Cass had hardly considered men an option at the time. Besides, everyone was more concerned with keeping food on the table, not bringing in another mouth to feed. Yet still, with every sneer and dismissive once-over, Cass became more convinced that he really wouldn’t find love until the end of the world.
At fourteen, when war overtook them all and the Volunteers beckoned… well, suddenly the end of the world seemed a whole hell of a lot closer. Cass was the only one pleased about that.
And at seventeen Cass felt the kiss of a hag. Before he was pulled into the water he had just enough time to think, “Well shit. This is a real fuckin’ copout” and then rows of blunt, rotten teeth tore out a piece of his neck.
Anyone with half a brain (which was one half more than Cass had at the time) could figure out the story: that he rose once again and the waiting started all over. It was long enough that by the time Cass met Jesse he’d given up hope, as they say, and his Mark was little more than a faint streak against his wrist. That’s what happens when something is neglected, or never given the chance to grow. It fades and eventually dies.
Damn thing wasn’t worth mentioning at all.
***
VI.
Of course, when the waiting was over, Until the end of the world took on a whole new, awful meaning.
Cass thought about it. More often than he was proud to admit. When they were in the car together, sharing pancakes, after sex, during sex, when they stepped out of a shared shower with water dripping down Jesse’s neck and Tulip framing hers with a towel…Cass thought about turning them; making the end of the world their destination, rather than just his fate.
He didn’t though.
Not yet.
***
VII.
“It’s not God.”
“It’s not—wait.” DeBlanc blinked and exchanged a quick glance with Fiore, because that wasn’t at all what he was expecting the Preacher to say. He regained his composure quick enough, leaning forward over the diner table. “How do you know that?”
Jesse sneered, pulling back his sleeve to show his Mark. As if that explained anything. The silence between the three was deafening.
“Yours is dark,” Fiore finally stated, surprising DeBlanc. “You love deeply and are loved in return. You don’t deserve that.”
“Fiore,” DeBlanc murmured, but he’d already pulled back his own sleeve, slamming his hand onto the table. Jesse actually reared back a bit. The skin on Fiore’s wrist was entirely blank. Unnatural.
He pushed the blight closer. “God decreed Soulmates, but us angels were the ones to carry them out. We did the labor while humanity reaped the reward. Do you have any idea what it’s like up there, Preacher? Heaven and Hell, the never-ending war… God wanted to give you something good when he made you, a companion to see you through the gift of life. Yet we, for all our service, were never offered such a thing.” Fiore pulled back, his eyes filled with the kind of hatred his kind weren’t supposed to possess. “Why don’t you just give Genesis back and enjoy your happiness.”
“‘Cause it ain’t happiness,” Jesse said, shrugging when Fiore straightened in indignation. “Not yet anyway. You said it yourself: God gave us a Soulmate, but this here Mark was spoken by two.”
DeBlanc drew in a sharp, startled breath… then deliberately relaxed. He let out a jittery laugh. “Well of course. Your language is repetitive, you can’t honestly expect to never hear—”
“No.” Jesse’s eyes were as hard as ice. “These words were spoken twice and I burned twice. I’ve got two Soulmates, and this thing, this… Genesis, it ain’t God because the real thing has some questions to answer for me. So. You two know anything about that?”
“No,” DeBlanc breathed.
Fiore looked sick.
“Then where’s God?”
“We don’t—”
“Where’s God?”
“We don’t know!” DeBlanc finishd, the truth wrenched out of him as his hands and face twisted. “He left heaven soon after Genesis’ creation. His absence, it threw everything into chaos. It’s what allowed us to…” His gaze briefly drifted to Fiore, then snapped back. “Preacher, please. Listen to me. I don’t know what’s going on with you and your Mark, but you cannot use Genesis’ power to find your answers, we—”
“Actually, I can do whatever the hell I want.”
Jesse stood, regarding them sadly. Only Fiore met his eyes.
“Novelty,” he murmured, staring down at his own body. “For the first time since Creation there are unknowns in this universe and you are at the center of two of them, Preacher. It cannot end well.”
Jesse shrugged. “Maybe. What can you do though but try?”
It was an honest question and one offered in lieu of an apology.
***
VIII.
“You realize it’s just fuckin’ polyamory, right?”
Cass said it around a mouthful of Twizzlers, sprawled across the motel bed with his head hanging over the edge. Tulip sat by his feet with her laptop while Jesse leaned against the headboard, reading the romance novel someone had left behind on the nightstand.
He shifted, contemplating that. “Sort of… except those are Soulmate pairs wanting a relationship with another pair, yeah? You’re not gonna find three anywhere else.”
“You do if one dies,” Tulip said and everyone winced. The death of a Soulmate wasn’t something to mention causally and they all eased away from the topic as one would a poisonous snake.
There was silence for a time: Cass ate, Tulip browsed, Jesse read. When it was broken it was by Cass’ thunderous pounding on the bedspread.
“GOT IT! Jesus, Mary, an’ Joseph, how did I not notice it before. We’re not three, are we? You’ve got that crazy entity in your chest, Padre. You know what that means?”
Jesse blinked.
“It means that one of us is actually that holy baby’s Soulmate. Eh? Eh?”
“It’s you.” Jesse and Tulip said it simultaneously, each of them going back to their task. Cass shot up, spitting the Twizzler angrily into his lap.
“No way! It fuckin’ slammed into Jesse that’s gotta tell you somethin’!”
“You,” they said again, not bothering to look up.
“It’s NOT!”
“… it is.”
This went on for some time.
***
IX.
A joke, certainly, but perhaps there was something in Cass’ comment, because the day Jesse met his second Soulmate was the same day a unique entity flew cross country and plowed into his chest, giving him the exact kind of power he needed to hunt down some answers.
Seriously, what were the chances of that?
***
X.
Tulip popped her bubblegum and the sound was loud as a gunshot. “Alright. Screw sitting quiet and screw calling him down. I want God to explain this shit to my face. I say we take my car, some ammo, and track the bastard down. He’s got a good excuse and is willing to come back? Fan-fucking-tastic. If he’s not…”
Cass poked Tulip when she didn’t finish. “What then?”
“We’ll beat the ever loving shit out of him.” She shrugged like this was the most natural suggestion in the world.
“Are you hearing this?” Cass turned to Jesse, eyebrows raised and mouth slight agape.
Jesse smirked. “I am, Cass, and I thought you knew the rule around here.”
“Rule?”
“Simple rule, but you gotta obey it if you’re gonna be her Soulmate: whatever Tulip wants, Tulip gets.”
She stuck her gum on her finger and raised it in a salute. “Damn straight,” Tulip said, “and what I want is God’s head on a fucking pike. Let’s move out.”
***
XI.
“Get away from him, you filthy lil’ gobshites.”
God help the fool who got between a vampire and one of their friends. Sure, call others protective if you wanted, but nothing brought out bloodlust quite like knowing first-hand how finite time with loved ones was and then seeing that time threatened. Fiore could have said anything in that moment and Cass still would have smashed his face in.
That chainsaw was just the cherry on a goddamn awful night. Though even Cass was a little surprised by the fear that shot through him then, and the relief that followed right after. Jesse had his faults, no doubt… but he was still the greatest thing those old eyes had ever seen.
“You’re okay, Padre. Sure you are…” Cass heaved out a breath in exhaustion, collapsing right on top of Jesse’s thigh. He felt a little guilty about his makeshift bed, especially since he knew the guy already had a Soulmate, but fucking hell, what was the point of living if you didn’t indulge once in a while?
“Not much,” Cass answered himself. “Oof. Jesus. Don’t you worry now though. I’ll be off you and cleanin’ this mess up in no time. Just give us a minute. It’s like I said, Padre. No trouble.”
Jesse whispered something then in answer. It was the random mumblings of the deeply asleep and Cass would have just ignored them if not for the fact that it was strangely, almost supernaturally clear:
“Until the end of the world, Cass…”
“What was tha—? Shit!”
Cass cut himself off as a burn seared across his left wrist, overwhelming in its intensity. He curled into a ball, tore back his sleeve and wiped away the blood, half expecting his hand to be falling off or something. Instead, Cass watched in abject shock as his Mark rose back to the surface of his skin, darker and clearer than it had ever been before. What Jesse had whispered finally clicked in Cass’ mind. He hadn’t thought about those words in years and here was this random preacher, giving them back to Cass in his goddamn sleep.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck, Padre…” The beautiful pain eclipsed all other feelings, including the tears that streaked down Cass’ cheeks.
“Aw fuck me, what have you done? Oh, Padre, oh no…”
Like all questions, Cass’ was a catalyst.
It was the start of something new.
***
XII.
And newness was sometimes scary. Novelty could be a threat and there was always the risk of failure, for—
—to Tulip it could feel like a betrayal. She was supposed to be Jesse’s Soulmate, she was… but perhaps Cass’ existence suggested that she was lacking somehow; unable to provide Jesse with everything he needed.
—to Cass it could feel like jealousy. Over a hundred years of experience should have given him a leg up, but whenever he saw them together a niggling voice announced that Tulip had Jesse first. Jesse had her first. They were whole long before he came along.
—to Jesse it just felt like a mystery. People nowadays were blessed to find their Soulmates and here he was, somehow managing to break the very laws of the universe and find two.
Whatever had he done to deserve that?
***
XIII.
And there were moments when people saw them together and gasped. With their sleeves rolled up in the summer heat, Jesse in the middle, two identical Marks stationed on either side of him. Sometimes people were scared of their difference, others curious… a few considered them the Devil made real and honestly, they hadn’t ruled that one out yet.
They traveled by night and slept during the day. Everything they did was in synch. There was an army at their back and an impossible mission ahead of them—though none of them balked. When they fought it was with the wild abandon of dogs, vicious and co-dependent. Their tenderness was something to be envied. In the end, news spread quickly of the deadly trio boasting the Power of God.
News of three Soulmates spread ever faster.
There were things to fear and questions to answer… but really?
Most of the time it just felt like love.