Richard's Animorphs Forum
General Category => General Fan Fiction & Art => Topic started by: Kitulean on August 05, 2009, 05:30:58 PM
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Note: I actually started writing this over a year ago, before I ever started writing my Animorphs Fanfic. The forum it was on before no longer exists. I found it this morning while working on my hard drive, and decided to put it up here, just for the heck of it. This is not a fanfiction, it is my own story, my own character(s)
Chapter One
“If you can look into the seeds of time, And say which grain will grow, and which will not, Speak.” Banquo – Act I Scene III
Death comes to all those who wait, riding a pale horse across the boundaries of the netherworld. Life, however, needs to take a bus and she might just miss you completely if she happens to fall asleep and miss her stop. She will then spend twenty minutes arguing with the driver of said bus to turn around, get kicked off the bus for insulting his parentage, and then hike eighteen miles to get back to where you were supposed to be only to see the coroner zipping you up.
This is of course the scene that I find myself in, standing in the crowd of onlookers and gawkers while wishing I could just leap over the caution tape and lay on hands that sucker back to life. Or, you know, whatever semblance of such he had before his girlfriend cut his throat with a steak knife. Because well, all other things aside, if your girlfriend buys a new set of cutlery for the sole purpose of killing you with it, not only have you apparently made a few mistakes in your life, but you also have horrible taste in girlfriends.
As I stood in the crowd and tried to think of how to fix this little hiccup, I sighed. It was supposed to be an easy job. Just in and out, stop this guy from dying and move on. Wham, bam, thank you Macbeth. That would be my name, not the play. My parents were huge Shakespeare enthusiasts. They were not, however, big fans of common sense. Out of every play he wrote and with every female character in those plays, they chose to name their daughter Macbeth.
As much as I wanted to go right in front of the crowd and turn ‘dead guy’ into ‘decidedly less dead guy’, it doesn’t work that way. Dead is dead. I can help everything up to the point you cross the line, but there’s no real coming back from that. Besides, I work in secret, and the ten o’clock evening news is whatever the exact opposite of secret is.
I realize that I should explain that I’m not insane. Or, well, I might very well be by this point, but that doesn’t make what I’m saying any less true. If I start rambling about French monkeys with purple trumpets doing hula while planning the Nazi revolution, you can safely close the book and rest assured that I’ve completely lost my mind and there is nothing further of use for you.
Anyway, while being able to play Jesus resurrecting Lazarus and winning instant recognition of everyone in the world might be fun for about ten minutes, it would really kill this whole secrecy thing.
The coroner’s van began to drive off, and I turned to find a phone booth so I could figure out where the morgue was. As I moved, a pale blue glow distracted me. The glimmer surrounded a young boy no older than ten, and I winced. This couldn’t be fun to experience, but I reached out and pushed my hand through the blue light to touch the boy’s shoulder. A single moment of focus later, and I felt the connection snap into place.
Abruptly, I was seeing through the eyes of this ten year old boy. A tennis ball slipped from hand to hand while I looked again to the crowd of people with all the boredom a young boy can muster in the face of a group that isn’t paying attention to him. My sigh was audible, and my mother gave me a distracted angry look that propelled me away from the crowd.
I started bouncing the ball against the nearest wall and catching it. Bounce… catch… bounce… catch. Finally, I threw the ball hard enough that I missed the rebound. It bounced into the street and I charged after it.
The thing rolled across the road, and I lunged. Even as my fingers snagged the runaway ball, I felt a dark shadow fall over me. A scream from my mother tore my attention that way, just as the moving truck slammed into me, instantly snapping my neck from the force and breaking almost half the bones in my small body.
The pain was so intense and real that when I snapped back into my own self, I reeled. The boy was already bouncing his ball against the nearest wall. I shook my head. Not right now. Nobody was dying right here just after I had failed to save the guy I was supposed to.
I briefly considered telling his mother to pull him back to her, but that… usually didn’t end well. Telling a parent they weren’t doing their job never really goes the way you mean it to. Well, okay, sometimes it does, but it never really helps.
Finally, I just sighed and jogged that way. At the last second, as the ball started to bounce past the boy, I snatched it out of midair and started to hand it back to him. The blue glimmer stayed where it was, so I paused even as the boy reached for it. The glow continued to brighten, so I took the ball back. He started to complain, and I turned away. Under the scrutiny of the group of adults as the boy yelled at me, I ran off.
As I ran, I looked back over my shoulder. Just as I reached the corner, the blue light disappeared from the boy, and I let out a sigh of relief. For now, the immediate danger was past.
I slowed to a walk and rolled the ball between my hands. Maybe the boy would die tomorrow from food poisoning. Maybe his mother would lose her mind and kill him herself. Maybe he would last six more years and then be killed the first time he took his brand new car out the day after getting his license.
He was safe right now though, and that’s about all I could manage. I’m not God, after all. I was just a twenty year old college dropout with two dollars and seventy eight cents, a small backpack with a couple books and other things, and a Cubs baseball cap. I love the Cubs. What can I say? I have a certain affinity for the underdog.
Chapter Two
“Things without all remedy should be without regard: what's done is done.” Lady Macbeth – Act III Scene II
Two dollars and thirteen cents later, and I had a double cheeseburger and a spicy chicken sandwich from McDonalds. So my stomach was full, or something resembling that, but now I was down to sixty five cents. Oh yeah, and I still didn’t know how to fix my dead guy problem.
Leaning on one hand and twirling a loose lock of dark blond hair around a finger while idly flicking my other hand against the stray wrapper from the cheeseburger, I seriously considered a new line of work. It wouldn’t be so hard. All I’d have to do is say that I didn’t care about the fate of humanity. You think that sounds bad, but you spend half an hour watching the typical fast food patron and see if you don’t consider it an option.
You think McDonalds is depressing? Try eating there after you kill a guy by oversleeping. I mean, chicken nuggets may be a lot of things, but I don’t think they’ve ever been directly responsible for the destruction of what amounts to an entire time line of the human race.
Maybe I should back up. But I just compared fast food to genocide, and you’re still here. So either you’re a borderline psychotic health nut thinking this is some other book, or I’m mildly entertaining. Either way, we win.
I think I can say it started when I was a freshman in college. That would be about two years ago. I wasn’t anything special up to that point. My grades were so-so. I had a few A’s, a few B’s, a couple C’s in classes no one cares about. I took drama one year, and did a year of girl’s softball, followed by a year of soccer. We won a couple more games than we lost. I broke my ankle in junior year and my boyfriend dumped me two weeks before the prom so I went with a boy I barely knew. So, like I said, completely average.
That is, average up to that third week in college. That was when my life became so bizarre that it would take an entire season of Twilight Zone episodes to fully comprehend.
I was just leaving my last class of the day, a science credit that was more to please my parents than for anything I thought I’d need, when a strange feeling hit me right in the pit of my stomach. It felt like that sudden dropping sensation you get when going down on a roller coaster, where your stomach tries to float up into your lungs.
While my hand grasped out to clutch the wall so that I wouldn’t fall, a name floated up into the forefront of my consciousness. It escaped my lips in a gasped whisper. “Carter Tavelli.” The name was an incredible pressure on my brain, and I said the name again, because saying it seemed to release some of that force. I said the name a third time, and then the address came to me. “Carter Tavelli… Seventeen thirty-seven Oceanic Breeze Avenue West. Zero Two One Zero Four, Boston. Apartment Seventeen.” The address was a pounding sensation within my mind that refused to let up until I had repeated it several times.
A name, address, zip code, and city had popped directly into my mind with such force that my head had felt like it would explode if I didn’t speak them out loud several times, and I had literally no idea who this person was. I had been to Boston a couple of times, considering my college was only a couple of towns north, but I had absolutely never heard of a Carter Tavelli up to that point. However, there was also no doubt whatsoever that he was a real person, and that he lived right there. I didn’t just believe it, I knew it.
The moment the name and address had cemented themselves in my conscience, I felt a violent spurt of nausea rising within me, and I shoved away from the wall, sprinting the short distance to the restroom. Once inside, I threw myself into a stall and fell to my knees, hurling while clutching the walls.
After losing the lunch I never should have eaten in the first place, I caught sight of my reflection in the seat of the toilet. My eyes… they were green, but they were supposed to be blue. Green, why were my eyes green? I found myself staring into these strange eyes, caught up in my own confusion.
Before I could understand this sudden difference, as I lost myself in these blue eyes, I was suddenly pulling back from a mirror. I wanted to blink in confusion, but I was busy shaving. Wait a minute, shaving? The image I saw in the mirror was that of a grown man, maybe in his early forties.
I… or rather, he finished shaving and ran a hand over the newly smooth skin before turning away from the mirror. I or he walked from the bathroom, passing a rather unkempt bedroom. From a dresser in the hallway, we collected a belt with a pistol holster and then a badge. A badge… I couldn’t recognize what type, but it was clipped to the belt and then we pulled a jacket from a hook on the wall and shrugged into it before walking out the door.
We were just out the door when we heard the muffled cry from down the hall. Turning on a dime, we paused for only a moment. A thump and a heated whisper of a threat made us walk closer. The noise was coming from two apartments down. A dried up wreath adorned the door, and an old welcome mat belied the whimpered pleas that could be heard just beyond that door.
Time seemed to stand still for a moment, and then we stepped forward and put a hand on the knob. A very brief test later found it unlocked. Stupid of the person inside, but good for us.
We stepped quietly into the apartment, pulling the gun from its holster on our hip at the sound of a shotgun ****ing from the next room over. Heavy footsteps thumped our way, and the man that entered the room was dragging a pretty black girl by the hair. At the sight of us, the man started to yank the girl in front of him while raising the sawed-off shotgun. Our hand with the gun was already rising, and a moment later the man fell with a bullet lodged just off center from his left eye, and the girl was on the floor screaming but unhurt.
We stepped over to help the girl to her feet, and as her eyes met ours, I had another sudden flash. This girl, she was going to go on and in four years time, she would become a teacher. As a teacher, she would positively touch the lives of most of her students, and one in particular would go on to become a doctor where he would be directly responsible for saving thousands of lives through revolutionary techniques that he would develop.
I saw all of this in the span of a few seconds, and I was as certain of it as I have ever been of anything. It would happen, and the world would be better for it.
A smile had just come when we were suddenly back at the door of that apartment, looking at the wreath and hearing the cry from inside. This time, instead of trying the knob, we stepped away from the door and drew a radio. We called for back-up, and just as the acknowledgment came, the wreathed door was kicked open. Our hand went for the gun on our belt, but the man with the shotgun was faster. There was a sudden explosion, and I felt the man that I was within die, blown away by the twin barrels that erupted with a violence and fury that I had never truly witnessed before.
I felt the man die, and I felt with a certainty that the girl would also die shortly thereafter as the man panicked. She would die and never grow to teach the boy who would have grown into a remarkable doctor and saved so many. Thousands of lives could end before they were meant to because this girl wasn’t saved from death.
A cough and shocked gasp later left me back in my own body, heaving for breath as I stared into the back of the toilet. I was myself, but my mouth formed the words of the man’s name and address once more, and this time I was able to add. “Seventeen hours.”
I knew, deep within my soul with no doubt whatsoever that this would happen in seventeen hours. This girl had that long to live. This world had that long to decide between two time lines, one in which thousands would be saved in due time, and the other in which they would not be. All based on one man’s actions.
One man… who I had to talk to. I pushed myself up from the stall and turned to leave. The name and address came to me again, and I repeated them before leaving the restroom.
I didn’t know what was happening, or why this had happened, but I knew with an utter certainty that simply calling would not work. I had to get there. I had to talk to this man in person. I had to make him choose the right path.
The only problem was that I had no way of getting there.
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Wow, this is fantastic! Amazingly written and I love the way the plot is sounding so far. This is like the kind of story I wish I could write. Please keep writing it because I REALLY want to read what happens next! :) +1
Have you ever watched Tru Calling? This idea kinda reminds me of that show, but way cooler! 8)
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I really, really enjoyed that too. I got into it and wanted to keep reading. Update soon :)
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Ooh, this is really really interesting, especially with the macbeth quotes at the beginning of each chapter.
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That was incredible, truly incredible. Love where you're going with this. Have you written any more, or is this an finished thing?
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Wow!!!! Awesome! Awesome! Awesome! ;D ;D ;D ;D +1
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Yeah this is a fantastic story, I'd definitely buy this if it was published. Have you written anymore of it?
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Wow, thanks for the input, guys. :) I will definitely write more in this as soon as possible. I've just been really busy with work lately. But thanks! That's definitely enough inspiration to continue.
At some point I WOULD like to clean it up and publish it, but I'll keep writing here so you can see the process as it goes on.
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Glad to hear you still plan on continuing it, even more glad you have plans to try and get it published at some point. I definitely think it has potential.
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Well when you get it published I expect to see something like this on one of the cover pages:
Thank you to Phoenix004, Kelly, CDJV, Ash and Android 18. I couldn't have done this without your encouragement.
;D
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Yay! ;D
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Omg. Cerulean. This is awesome. Keep up the fantastic work!
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All right! I'm back into writing this thing. It's been a long time since I wrote anything for it, but I like this installment. I hope you do too.
Chapter Three
“I go, and it is done; the bell invites me. Hear it not, Duncan, for it is a knell That summons thee to heaven, or to hell.” – Macbeth Act II Scene I
Barring unforeseen traffic problems, there is about an hour drive between East Vale University where I was attending and Boston. If I’d had a car at the time, that would have been relevant. I didn’t, and the only person I could borrow a car from was my brother Craig, who is Satan’s Apostle on this Earth.
It occurs to me that with the direction this has been going, it might be good for me to add that the Satan’s Apostle title I just bestowed on Craig is my own term and not an actual fact. At least as far as I know it isn’t. Though he did have the issue with the birds, and Aunt Leslie still refuses to go in the backyard.
In any case, you’re completely safe as long as you don’t owe him anything. I would have been better off hijacking a bus at gunpoint, which I considered but dismissed on the basis of not having a gun and being entirely unsure of whether I could actually point it at anyone. No, I was going to have to bite the bullet and ask Craig for a favor, which is tantamount to locking a drunk eight year old inside of a candy store.
It took three hours of butt kissing and dealing before Craig handed over the keys to his car, but he finally did after extracting a written contract of IOU. He was studying to be a lawyer. See the above Satan’s Apostle note.
With the hour drive time, I was down to thirteen hours before what my heaving stomach continued to remind me was d-time. I had an address, but I wasn’t sure exactly where in the city it was. I sat in the car by a Wendy’s for 20 minutes waiting for this intuition thing I had going on to guide me to the address. I nearly beat myself with the tire iron in the backseat when I realized I could have looked up directions back at the University on the net. Or I could just ask someone. I was looking for a mystical divining rod while stepping over the river.
Half an hour later, I was standing in front of the apartment building. This was the right one, I could feel it. My stomach was performing an Olympic level floor routine. A low and nervous breath escaped me while I tried to think of how I was going to convince the man inside that I wasn’t insane.
At some point, you might ask why I was borrowing a car to drive an hour to see someone I didn’t even know instead of checking myself into some kind of asylum. The truth was, I just knew I couldn’t do that. Don’t get me wrong, I was about ninety percent sure that I was insane, but I was also sure that I was right. I’ve found lately that being sane and being correct hardly ever coincide. So yes, I knew that premonitions of the deaths of people I had never met was loco. But I also knew that if I hesitated, delayed, or stalled because of that, a lot of people would die who could have lived. It’s funny how much doubt something like that can make you ignore.
I may have known what I had to do, in theory, but I didn’t know how to do it. Twelve hours left, and I still had no idea how to save this cop guy. Carter Tavelli had a date with heroism or death, and it was up to a confused and scared eighteen year old girl to point him one direction or the other. But you know, no pressure or anything.
It was already dark, pushing nine o’clock. The people around me were heading home to prime time TV and the news. A few of them gave me odd looks, and then turned to see what was so interesting on the building that I was staring at. I heard someone mutter something about drugs and realized that I needed to get off the street.
Well, no time like now time. I started to walk up to the building, ignoring the nerve wracking pounding of my heart as I opened the door.
I’m not sure what I expected to happen when I stepped inside that apartment building. But whatever it was, I definitely did not expect what did happen.
“Macbeth!” The voice came from behind me and I nearly jumped out of my skin. That’s the thing about my name. If you have a name like John or Sarah and hear someone call it, you don’t know until they’re on top of you if you’re the one they’re talking to. But with a name like Macbeth, unless I’m at a Shakespeare drama camp, it’s a safe assumption that they’re talking to me.
As I turned, I was already wincing. There was only one person who knew me that would have any plausible reason to be here. Then again, considering the plausibility of my being there, it could have been god damn Donald Duck.
But of course, it was the one person I didn’t want to see. “Maisie!” I tried to sound enthusiastic. You know that woman that your mother calls a friend, but you hate because all she does is talk about herself or talk about you like you’re not in the room? Plus you have to clean for three days beforehand and while she’s there all these brand new rules seem to crop up that are never there when she’s gone? Everyone seems to have one of those, and for me, it was Maisie MacFarquhar. Seventy years old when I was a child and god alone only knew how old now, the woman had probably been born an old hen. She was even shorter than me, which believe me is short since I’m barely five foot two if I stretch it, and half again as wide as she is tall. She always wore a hair bonnet as well, like this was the eighteen hundreds or something.
“Oh now, missy. It’s Auntie Maise to you.” The pudgy old coot wagged her finger at me. Great. She was going to go right home and call mom to talk her ear off about what could I possibly have been doing all the way down here. Not that she was actually interested in the truth. She just liked to gossip about everything bad I might be up to. By the time they were done yapping, she’d have it where she walked in on me humping a homeless guy while sacrificing a goat to Beelzebub.
I don’t know why, but for some reason Maisie has always disliked me. Oh sure she’s nice to my face, but she still talks at mom about me like I’m not in the room. And when I’m really not in the room, I hear her going on about how much mom is missing by not having a ‘real daughter’. I tried talking to my mother about it more than once, but mom has this blind spot when it comes to Maisie.
Restraining my sigh even as I started to rehearse the story I’d give my parents when the inevitable phone call came that night after Maisie got done filling their ears with everything bad I was probably doing, I forced a smile. “Of course, Aunt Maisie. You look good.”
“Oh I’m sure everyone looks good to you, Miss Bethy.” The condescending look in the woman’s gaze was enough to make me want to slap it off of her. “If you could keep some meat on your bones and wash that hair with some decent conditioner, you wouldn’t have to see how much better other people look, would you?”
I ground my teeth. “I guess not.” I’d learned not to fire back at Maisie. She just played innocent and complained to mom, which never worked out in my favor. Mom would defend me to the pope himself, but with Maisie, I was always in the wrong.
“Honey, what are you doing down here?” The old bat smiled at me sweetly as she pressed for some kind of answer. Like she cared about the truth. Actually, for a moment I considered telling her just on the off chance that she’d consider me completely losing my mind a better story than whatever she’d cook up to warn my parents about for my behavior.
Finally I just shook my head. No sense peeing on the hornets nest. “I just came to visit a friend, Aunt Maisie. It’s no big deal.” I tried to stress the last part, but I knew it wouldn’t do any good. Visiting a friend, I might as well have said ‘I’m a hooker and I’m here to meet my john.’
I tried to get away, turning back to the building. “I’m sorry, Aunt Maisie. I’ll see you later, but I’ve got to go.”
Her dark eyes bored into me uncomfortably. “You promise me now, Miss Bethy. You come over and sit and chat with me when you’ve finished your… business. I have some things I want you to give your mother. Lord knows she deserves some kind of treats for what she sacrificed for you kids.”
“Sure, sure.” I was almost frantic to get out of there. If I didn’t leave soon, it was going to come down to me or her and I was pretty sure she was a biter. “I’ll visit you as soon as I can.” Oh well, it was hardly the first promise I’d made that I had absolutely no intention of keeping.
“That’s good. That’s better.” Maisie nodded as though mollified and turned to leave. “Honestly, I don’t know how she raised children. I could never raise children. The complete lack of respect…” She continued to mutter to herself as she toddled off.
I sighed and turned to walk into the building finally. In a choice between dealing with an armed psychopath and talking to Maisie for ten minutes, I’d take the psychopath any day of the week.
A minute later, I stood outside apartment seventeen. This was where Carter Tavelli lived. For a brief moment I considered knocking and telling the cop/agent/detective/whatever he was everything. Yeah, because that would work out so well. Hell, for all I actually knew, it was a little old man living there and Carter Tavelli didn’t actually exist.
Speaking of actually exist, I looked at the apartment two doors down. The dried up wreath was there. The welcome mat was there. But I could have guessed those. They weren’t exactly unheard of objects to have.
I had to be sure. Slowly, I walked that way. The hallway was empty, and it seemed like a dropped pin could be mistaken for a gunshot. Okay, Macbeth, now really really wasn’t the time to start thinking about gunshots. Stupid.
With a wince, I reached up and knocked on the door. I just wanted to see if this was the right man. I wanted to see if I was crazy.
The door opened, and I immediately knew that I wasn’t crazy. Or if I was, my insanity was giving me premonitions. Because the man I saw was the man that had been in my vision. This was the bad man, the dark murderer, who in the act of killing one young woman would destroy the hope that hundreds would eventually have had.
“Can I help you?” His smile, the smile of this snake, was sweet. He was the caring neighbor that you might borrow sugar from. But it would be sugar laced with cyanide because beneath his demeanor was the calculation and morality of evil personified.
He didn’t look evil. He didn’t wear a black hat or twirl a mustache or anything. He was a few inches shy of six feet, and looked wiry, like a runner. He had apparently just been in the shower, because his red hair was wet.
I forced the same smile that I had forced with Maisie as my mouth worked for some kind of excuse. “I…” Inwardly, I frantically sought words. All I could think of was what it had been like to feel Carter Tavelli die. “I was just… is… is Maggie here?” I blurted out finally, flushed.
“Maggie…” The man stopped to think for a moment. I had to wonder if he had a dozen women tied up inside and was just trying to remember if any of them had been a Maggie. “No.” He continued to smile. “I can’t say that I know a Maggie.”
“Oh.” I nodded dumbly. “I guess she’s… not here. Maybe she’s one floor down.” Then I just kept nodding.
“Probably.” The reptile continued to smile. “Are you going to check?”
“What?” I blinked, and then winced inwardly. “Oh. Yeah, I’m sorry for bothering you.”
“Oh, it’s no bother.” The wolf in sheep’s clothing, the devil in pink, freshly scrubbed skin waved off my apology. “Good luck finding your friend.”
I have learned better since that day. I have grown into what has become my duty, my calling. But on that day, I was a child. I knew nothing of the world and the evils in it, nothing that I know now. I have learned a lot in two years. But the one thing I have learned most of all is never to turn my back on evil. It was a lesson I learned the hard way.
As I turned to walk away, I learned that lesson for the first time. There was no warning. No violent clash of violins struck the chord in me that danger was near. I could hear no gasp from any audience. Suddenly the man’s arm was around my throat while his other hand covered my mouth.
I fought and cried out, but my cries were muffled. My fight meant nothing to his superior leverage and strength. I found myself jerked backwards into the apartment even as his arm tightened around my throat.
His face leaned close to mine as he tightened his grip even more. “You can’t leave before we play.” As the spots appeared in my vision, I wondered for a moment why I hadn’t seen this coming. I wasn’t the hero. I was a hostage.
I felt his tongue against my cheek, and then the spots multiplied into darkness as my consciousness ran out. And so, I thought then as the last of my thoughts mingled to nothingness, had my time.
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loved it :) wasn't expecting that at the end. can't wait to see what happens next...+1 :)
Do you base characters on people you know in real life?
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That is so EVIL, leaving us hanging at a time like this! But man, that was still awesome. I felt like strangling Maisie, and actually gasped when the dude grabbed Macbeth :) Thanks for updating us!
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Brilliant update! The annoying "aunt" definitely added to the realism and the twist at the end was unexpected and very clever. Keep working! :)
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That was great! Aunt Maisie was perfectly annoying. And the twist? Good work!
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Awesome, very awesome! Gloomy though.
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Wheee! Here you go, guys. I hope you enjoy it and everything. Originally this was going to be divided into two chapters, but I decided to do it in one to avoid making either too short. Besides, I wanted to get back to the 'present' for her story and out of the flashback.
Chapter Four
“Look like the innocent flower, But be the serpent under it.” Lady Macbeth, Act I, scene v
I’ve been knocked out a few times since then, and I can tell you, it doesn’t get any less disorienting. I don’t know how long I was unconscious, but when I finally woke up, the compelling urge that had brought me here was practically screaming in my head. I felt like telling the feeling to shut up and leave me alone so I could sleep some more, but the second feeling; that of cold metal on my wrists brought me clean awake.
My hands were handcuffed behind my back and I was lying face down on some kind of wooden floor. There was something pretty foul tasting in my mouth preventing me from talking. It felt like a rag of some kind. There also seemed to be some kind of pressure on my back preventing me from rising. It looked like I was in some kind of closet. I was definitely in trouble. Still, at least Aunt Maisie wasn’t in here with me.
I heard a groan then and had a momentary panic that she actually was. Then the pressure moved off my back as the girl I had seen in my dream-vision-whatever fell off me and into view. She was similarly bound, and when her wide eyed stare found mine, she tried to yell a question at me through her gag. I didn’t speak gagese yet, but I got the gist. Mostly because I was thinking the same things she was yelling.
At least with the pressure off my back, I was able to rise into a sitting position. The girl seemed like she was nearly hyperventilating in her panic. I could sympathize, but between her muffled demands and the voiceless urging from the pressure inside my head, I couldn’t think.
Before I could even try to calm her down, the closet door opened and our friendly neighborhood psycho appeared holding an instrument which has led to so much suffering and death, propelling the masses to battle. I mean, of course, a camera. He also possessed a goofy smile that didn’t come close to touching his reptilian eyes.
“Oh. Oh good, both of our friends are awake.” The briefly blinding flash came as he snapped a picture. He sounded delighted. I wondered how delighted he’d sound if I showed him where I wanted to shove his camera.
The girl that I had been imprisoned with, whose fate had been intertwined with mine even before we met, from the moment I saw her predicament, kicked out at the bastard. Oh yeah, I was supposed to be fighting, not pondering anatomical impossibilities. The unknown force inside my mind had sent me to help, not to be a sidelines cheerleader. Which was just as well, since I’d need to borrow a bicycle pump and inflate my bosom to get up to cheerleader standards, and who has that kind of time?
Before I could do much of anything to help, the creep stepped away from the other girl’s kicking legs. He made a clucking sound like he was disappointed and reached beside him. Producing the sawed-off shotgun that I had seen in my vision, he gestured with it. “That’s wrong! That’s totally wrong. There are rules to follow and you have to obey them. Get up.” When both of us remained where we were, his eyes bulged furiously and he yelled. “Get up!”
We were still bound and the confines of the closet were tight. But it is singularly amazing what kind of motivator the ****ing of a shotgun can be. From the moment the ker-klunk reached our ears, it took us approximately .003 seconds to reach a standing position.
I didn’t know exactly what my companion was feeling, but personally, I was terrified. All of this was suddenly so much more real than it had been before I had been personally involved. The gun could kill me, could snuff my life with a single twitch of his finger and nothing I could do would stop it. I could feel the tears of terror welling up even as I kept my gaze on that instrument of death. I was also paying a lot of attention to the weapon he held.
The man stepped away from the door and pointed with his wand of not-so-mystical force. “Come on.” He sounded impatient and childish. “We have to play and we don’t have all day. It’s time for lunch. You know how much Nana hates it when we let the food get cold. We’d have to fetch her off the ceiling with a broom.” He laughed like it was genuinely an amusing thought.
Slowly, two bound and gagged girls looked to each other. I was certain we could both see the fingers twirling in a ‘crazy’ gesture around our heads concerning our captor. Unfortunately, Mr. Nuttier Than A Snickers had the gun, so we walked where he wanted us to.
We were both directed to the kitchen, where a ginger cat sat on the table, which was set with four places of china and silverware. Absurdly, the cat sat before the fourth place setting.
“Nana.” The man’s voice interrupted my line of thought. “I found Betty and Sarah playing hide and seek.” He laughed once more, pointing with the gun for us to each take a seat. Apparently the cat was Nana. I wasn’t sure yet which of us got to be Betty.
We had just sat down when a high pitched whistling sound made us both jump almost out of our seats. I briefly and wishfully thought it might be a police whistle. Unfortunately, we hadn’t gone back eighty years to when such things were actually used, and it was only the kettle on the stove. The man simply stepped over and turned the burner off before picking up the kettle to pour the boiling water into four mugs that sat to the side. While he poured, the man smiled at the three of us as though expecting praise for his pouring skills. I can’t speak for the cat, but I can say neither of his human guests was impressed.
After filling the four mugs, the man carefully placed one before each of the place settings while holding the gun in his other hand. If I’d had any thought of jumping him even with my hands secured, the sight of that barrel casually swinging in my direction erased it.
The contents of the mug appeared to be hot chocolate. I love cocoa, but I had no desire to taste anything this creep made. As delicious as it looked, the concoction had to be tainted by the evil he exuded like the cloud that fills the perfume section of a store, populated by crazed women squirting their scented nerve gas on anyone who trespasses within their domain. Surely partaking of anything prepared by this fruitcake would taint the very soul.
Besides, even if I had been interested in quenching my thirst and need for chocolate, the urging inside my mind chose that moment to ramp itself up tenfold as it screamed that the time was now. What I had seen in my vision was going to happen right now, regardless of whether I was ready or not. There was no time out. There was no delay of game. I would succeed or fail at this moment, and all moments beyond it would be measured by my actions here.
Somewhere nearby, I heard a door thunk closed. It had to be the apartment next door. Carter Tavelli, my old unmet friend, was leaving. In less than five seconds, he’d walk beyond the range of hearing and neither myself nor my unwilling companion was capable of raising a shout. The gags saw to that quite well.
Norman Bates Sans-Motel was slightly turned as though he too had heard the man next door start to leave. I had no time to think about what I was doing. I could say that I was terrified, but in that second, what I felt even more was the pressing need to do something. My eyes settled on the place setting in front of the man and the answer came to me. Of those of us capable of speech, only one was ungagged. Though he was unwilling to raise a cry of alarm of his own volition, I could ensure that he did.
With fear and motivation as my side by side companions, I rammed myself up and forward into the table. There was a sudden pain in my stomach and side since I couldn’t use my arms to shove, and I nearly knocked the wind out of myself. But I was rewarded by the table slamming up and partly back. Even as our demented neighborhood lunatic began to turn his attention my way, his plate fell to the floor and shattered. More importantly, the mug of freshly poured boiling hot chocolate careened off the table and splashed directly into his lap. The shout that he raised as his beloved man-parts were soaked by the scalding liquid was more beautiful music than I had heard in my life to that point.
I was on my feet, but I was still bound and my imprisoned comrade had yet to recover from her own surprise. Our captor was also on his feet, having lunged backwards and knocked his own chair over in his frantic need to get away from the liquid that still burned his crotch. He screamed several obscenities while raising that gun in my direction. For a brief moment I thought I saw my own death. Then I remembered that my legs still worked and dove to the side just as, in his blind rage induced by his pain, the man forgot the sound of the shotgun and what it would draw.
The explosive boom of the gun partially deafened me and I screamed in muffled terror, convinced that I had been hit. I’m fairly sure it was only a happy side effect of not having partaken of the cocoa that spared me from wetting myself. I landed hard on my left side while the shotgun tore the hell out of the wall and cabinets behind me.
Out in the main room, as the sound of the shotgun echoed around the walls, I could hear the door come open as one Carter Tavelli forced his way inside. He shouted something about the police, and the crotch-scalded kidnapper spun toward the doorway, momentarily forgetting my existence.
The approaching footsteps told me that the man was coming. But this **** covered the entrance to the kitchen perfectly with his weapon of choice. The moment our savior showed himself, he would have his face blown off. I couldn’t let that happen. Beyond my own will to live, the girl who had been imprisoned with me had to go on to be the inspiring teacher she was destined to be.
I was bound and almost helpless on the floor, unable to rise in the scant seconds available before Tavelli became hero or corpse. Once again, my eyes fell upon the unhindered being within the room. In this case, it was the cat. It crouched near my legs, lapping at something on the floor.
The shouted warning of police came again. I heard the man’s approaching footsteps. The lunatic blocked the doorway. The cat lapped at the puddle. My hands remained bound.
I have never held any sort of animosity toward animals. The human capacity for cruelty to nature is not unknown to me, but it is not a part of my daily life. In other words, if you are a cat lover, please release your anger at what I am about to describe and understand that it was not out of a mad desire for feline pain that drove my next action.
As I lay on my side, I brought my foot back and kicked that cat as hard as I could. The animal was flung partway into the air with an unholy screech. Its cry brought the man’s attention toward it even as Tavelli stepped around the corner with his gun raised. Realizing his mistake at the last moment, the weapon wielding crackpot tried to rectify it. Tavelli was ready however, and even as the barrel of the shotgun rose in his direction, the cop discharged his own pistol and the freak was spun around from the force of the shot and knocked to the floor.
Carter was over me a moment later, shouting a question of whether I was all right. I tried to tell him to check on the other girl, but I’m afraid that even if I hadn’t been gagged, the only thing that would have come out was a terrified blubbering. The beautiful, beautiful gun toting policeman tugged the gag out of my mouth and reached into his pocket to produce a tiny silver key, which he used to unlock the cuffs around my wrists. All the while, he reassured both of us that he was there to help.
My hands were free and he turned to the other girl. I made it to my feet and rubbed the circulation back into them. I felt my body settle into a state of shock, before noticing a slight blue glow begin to spread across the man who had saved us. Curiously, and feeling like it was a dream or perhaps my own brain losing control, I reached out to feel the brightening aura that surrounded him. My hand made contact with his leg and my entire world spun once more.
Suddenly, I was seeing things through the eyes of Tavelli once more. I unlocked the pretty black girl’s handcuffs and was just pulling her up when movement from the corner of my eye drew my attention. The kidnapper, the man I had just shot was rising to his feet with the shotgun clutched in one hand while he bled profusely from his opposite shoulder. I had just begun to turn when the explosion of the shotgun’s round filled the air once more and my world erupted in pain. Then all sense of feeling left me as I fell to the floor.
I was shocked back to myself with a gasp. My hands clutched the counter, holding me upright. Even as Tavelli looked to me to question if I was all right, I could see that movement as our violent kook began to lift himself up. A shouted warning left my lips even as I grabbed the nearest thing I could find, a bottle of Palmolive dish soap, and hurtled it at the shotgun-wielding reptile. The bottle collided with the man as he pulled the trigger, throwing off his aim.
The deafening roar made me flinch, but I sighed in relief as Tavelli, apparently unhurt, hit the man hard and knocked him down. He was handling it, and the already injured evil man was handily dispatched. However, before I could get too excited at our victory, my eyes fell on the other girl, and I couldn’t restrain the cry of dismay. Though I had saved Tavelli with my airborn bottle attack, the blast of the shotgun had hit her instead.
I shouted a denial as well as a curse even as I fell to my knees beside the woman I had been trying to save. Her eyes found mine as she lay in a puddle of her own blood, trying in vain to mouth something while her life leaked out of her in buckets. I felt my own tears finally explode to blur my vision as my failure filled my soul.
Carter was behind me, saying something. But I couldn’t hear him. My focus was on the girl that I had failed. Her eyes locked on mine and once more I everything that her life would accomplish, and all that would suffer if she didn’t survive. I locked my hands in hers and stared down at her while a feeling of complete desperation filled me.
If she would live, there would be untold benefits throughout the succeeding years. If she died here and now, then hope would die with her for hundreds of people that her teaching of one boy would eventually save, not counting the countless others that she would affect. This particular butterfly had to flap good and hard.
I squeezed the suffering girl’s hands and begged some unknown entity with all of my soul to save her, to restore some measure of hope to this world. Even as I knelt there, I felt something unknown flicker to life within me. A soothing, soundless voice seemed to direct me to hold the girl even tighter. A flame of something that was not fire, yet warmed me to my core rose within as I clutched the dying young woman while ignoring Tavelli’s shouts. The heat rose to an almost unbearable level while the soundless feeling that directed my actions prompted me to hold the wounded young woman even tighter.
I could feel the warmth and caring within my own body gradually pour itself into the bleeding girl. I gradually grew colder even as the heat filled my companion’s body. Abruptly, her eyes, which had drifted closed, snapped open with an audible gasp of life.
Drawing back with my own yelp of surprise, I stared down at the girl. She breathed once more and looked confused. We both looked toward her chest where her shirt had been torn by the shotgun. It was still shredded, but no wound remained. Though blood liberally coated the floor around her, she looked as though she had never been hit. She had been healed, brought back from the edge of death.
I was on my feet, staring at the suddenly uninjured girl as though she was the one that had pulled some kind of mystical healing mumbo jumbo out of her butt to save my life. I can honestly say that I don’t know which of us was more shocked.
Tavelli, who was on his radio calling for help, stopped talking as his own eyes fell upon the girl who moments before had been seconds from death. Incredulously, he looked to me with a thousand questions on his lips. Unfortunately, I didn’t have any answers for him. I was as confused and freaked out as either of them.
After I stared mutely in the face of his confusion, the man turned back to the girl to check on her in disbelief. Once he had turned his back to me, I felt that urge within tell me to leave this place. I didn’t belong here any more. The girl was saved, and anything I tried to say about why I had been in this location, what I had been doing, or how I had saved the girl would only land me in some rubber walled room. I had to get out while I could.
I took a step backwards. Neither of them noticed. Another step and then I turned and ran to the door. I heard Tavelli yell out for me to stop, but he had to stay with the girl and his prisoner. He couldn’t give chase.
At the door, I could see neighbors wandering the halls as they tried to figure out what had happened. I heard sirens drawing closer, and even as a few questions were shouted my way, I ran to the stairs.
Minutes later, I stood across the street, watching as the lot filled with police cars and other emergency vehicles. Tavelli and the black girl both emerged from the building, as well as the psychopath who had tried to kill us. The latter was escorted by several uniformed officers. Carter tried to look around for me, but I ducked away behind the building I was next to.
It was over. I began to walk away, not realizing at that moment that what I had just done was only a warm-up. Over the next two years, I learned more of my own abilities and shortcomings than anything college would have taught me. I dropped out, having found it impossible to attend classes when the urge to run a thousand miles to prevent a murder-suicide would overwhelm me. My parents shouted and ranted, but I couldn’t explain to them what I was doing. I couldn’t explain it to anyone.
I still can’t explain where these feelings, or where my strange abilities come from. I can’t tell you if I am some kind of mutant, an alien, or if I was bitten by a radioactive band-aid. Whatever force that drives me, has seen fit not to explain itself.
Now, two years later, I stood from the McDonalds booth where I had just finished my small meal using almost the last of my money. I had to find the morgue and figure out what I was supposed to do now that the man I was supposed to save this time died before I could get to him.
However, even as I turned, a voice spoke up. “It’s you.” Those two words, and the voice behind them, brought my eyes up in shock and I stared across a span of three feet, where the man who stared back at me repeated himself. “It’s you.”
Two years and more than fourteen hundred miles apart, I stared at Carter Tavelli once more.
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Very nice, love the cliffhanger ending there. Glad to see you're still continuing this story! :)
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hope you're not planning to make us wait too long for the next chapter! This is amazing. :) wish it was already published so I could keep reading!
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Oh. My. God. Soooo good! Keep writing, this is amazing.
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Hope Carter sticks around.. That was another great chapter :)
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Wow! and I mean WOW! This is great, very great! :thumbsup:
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Guess who got voted for best fanfiction :P
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this fic was the first thing i voted for!
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I should change my vote!
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Wow! Thanks so much, you guys. I'm glad you like the story so much. That's awesome. Thanks for nominating/voting and I'll try to pay you back with another chapter here soon. I'm about a third of the way through it atm, but I don't want to rush and end up with something not as good as it could be. I'll get it out soon though so thanks again!
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Take your time, make it great!
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You can't rush genius! ;)
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looking forward to it :)
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Don't rush!
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Hey, guys. :D Thanks for being patient with me. Sorry for the delay. I meant to have this up a couple days ago, but I got sucked into playing Dragon Age: Origins and that's eaten up a lot of time. But here's the chapter and I hope you guys like it.
Chapter Five
"Come what come may, Time and the hour runs through the roughest day." - Macbeth, Act I, scene III
The animal kingdom generally has two responses to stress: fight or flight. Assuming you include hiding as a manner of flight, this encompasses all normal animal tactics. If I was an animal, I would have either bolted out the door or socked him in the nose. He looked to be twice my age, but he was also about a foot taller. I had the embarrassing mental picture of the man tackling me at the door. I didn’t even want to think about how well trying to punch him would go. I’d have to ask him to lean down first.
Fortunately for my pathetically unintimidating stature, humans have invented a third option to the fight or flight combo. We, in all our god-given glory, can lie.
“Who?” I managed to reach down and find my voice where it had been hiding somewhere around my liver. “Sorry, me? Uhhh, what?”
I have, through necessity more than desire, become a much better liar in these past two years than when I began this perilous and peculiar quest of mine. I could already tell, however, that my feigned obliviousness was having no affect on Mr. Tavelli. It could have been his years of investigative training. Or possibly it could have been the fact that I had stared at him in silent and obvious shock for upwards of five seconds before beginning my denial. I believe certain skilled people are able to pick up on subtle clues like that.
Lying was right out then. And I certainly wasn’t going to get very far in a fight. So I went with the last remaining option and tried to walk to the door. If I could just lose him in the city, the odds of him ever finding me again was… about the same as the odds of randomly running into him in a fast food joint hundreds of miles away from where I had last seen him. Crap.
My daring and brilliant plan of walking away was dastardly foiled by Tavelli’s cunning reaction of simply following me. Curse his logic. And his functioning legs, come to think of it.
I could hear and feel him behind me as we both walked to the exit. He didn’t say anything, which was a little unnerving. It seemed like he was waiting until we weren’t in the building, which sort of buoyed my hopes that he wasn’t going to arrest me for fleeing the scene or whatever other crime I had committed back in his apartment building. Healing the dying without a license, maybe?
After pushing through the door into the parking lot, I started to walk without looking back. I couldn’t tell you why I thought that would work. I was briefly struck by the ‘if I can’t see him, he can’t see me’ mentality. Yes, I was reduced to the tactics of a toddler. This is the woman charged with saving lives on a daily basis, people.
Of course, I couldn’t disappear into thin air, proving that I can scratch the job of magician off any potential career list. My list of available options was rapidly dwindling. I was down to trying to outrun him or suddenly sprouting wings. It was a toss up which was more likely to be successful.
His hand came down on my shoulder, thwarting my ‘ignore him and he’ll go away’ stalling tactic. “Hey.” When he stepped around in front of me to speak, he seemed concerned. “What the hell? You can’t just walk away after something like that. Do you have any idea how long I tried to find you? I don’t even know your name.”
I could just see him trying to put an APB out on a petite female blonde. What was he going to say when they asked for more info? The only other thing he knew about me was that I was that I healed gunshot wounds by hugging people. The thought made me giggle. That was my undoing, because when I looked up at him, he laughed too. It was a short bark of a laugh, and he frowned immediately afterward as though to make up for it. “It was you.” There was no doubt in his voice.
With his hand firmly on my shoulder, I was going to have to either go with the sure to be both funny and painful fight scenario, or tell at least some of the truth. Sighing a little bit, I gave him a short nod. “All right, I was there. So?”
His gaze burrowed into me. “You--" He paused and lowered his voice. “Listen, sister, you saved that girl. She was dying and you saved her.” He sounded like he had spent the past couple years coming to terms with it. I could sympathize, and he didn’t even know the half of it. “Just talk to me for a minute. I’m not trying to arrest you. Hell, I’d be laughed out of the office if I tried. No one’s going to believe any of that crap. But I saw it and I need to know that I ain’t crazy.”
So, final option it was. Maybe I would have had a few more choices if he’d been a creep, or at least a jerk. But he was just a decent guy that had been confused for way too long. In a way, we had a kind of kinship. “Fine,” I spoke reluctantly. “I’ll talk to you. But you have to do something for me first.”
He paused, and I was sure he was going to tell me off, but finally he nodded. “We’ll see if it’s fair. What do you want from me?”
So here it was. This was my option, my way of getting into the morgue to find out what I was supposed to do next. I had to wonder if this was part of the plan all along. For all I knew, all of this, from the moment I had my first vision and got him involved to now when I needed him to open a door for me, had been meticulously plotted. “I want you to get me into a morgue. I need to visit a body.”
He opened his mouth, paused like he was sorting out the right words, and then responded doubtfully. “Any body in particular or did you have one in mind?”
It really didn’t sound like he was taking my request seriously, and I sighed. “I’m serious. There’s a guy that just died a couple hours ago. I need to see him.”
His eyebrow went up as he considered. I could see the wheels turning in his head as he asked. “Uhhh, were you planning on…”
He couldn’t bring himself to say the words. So I just shook my head. “I can’t. I can’t do that. Not uhhh, not now.” I wanted to avoid explaining as much as I could. Call me Debbie Downer, but I didn’t really trust his ability to stop himself from trying to toss me in a loony bin. Even if he did have to toss himself into the next cell over. The fact that he’d seen it with his own eyes meant little. Over these past years, I’ve come to a realization. The average person’s ability to believe in the supernatural tends to be inversely proportionate to how much evidence they have of it. Give a man a slightly tinted light in the sky and he’ll claim it’s a UFO. Give the same man an obvious alien ship sitting right in front of him and he’ll make up ridiculous excuses for it. Paranoia and hypocrisy are not mutually exclusive.
“Sure.” The man spoke just as I was trying to decide if running away would have been a better option after all. “I’ll get you in, assuming I can. But you have to tell me who you are, and you have to explain what the hell happened back there.” He raised a finger, practically touching my nose. “Don’t screw me over. I’ve spent the past two years thinking I was insane. Tell me the truth. Who are you?”
Oh boy. Now was the kicker. Did I tell him my real name or did I make one up? My instinct was to give him a fake name, but if it ever came out later, he’d wonder why I’d lied. That could be both dangerous and embarrassing. But he’d have a lot easier of a time tracking me down with my name. On the other hand, he could track my past as much as he wanted for as much contact as I had with it. “Macbeth.” I finally answered him.
He gave that short bark of a laugh once more. “Kid, if you want an alias, you need a more believable one. But okay, ‘Macbeth’, if that’s what you want me to call you. Who’s this guy you need to see?”
This was unbelievable. I give him a real name and he thinks it’s a fake, and isn’t even offended by that. I should have just told him my name with Jenny or something. Now he had my real name, and still he thought I’d lied to him. Plus he thought I was incompetent at lying, which I was absurdly offended by. I give fake names all the time and people buy them, but I try to be honest this time and I get laughed at. Such is my life.
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It’s really kind of depressing when I look back to all the hoops I’ve had to leap through to get into some of the places I’ve needed to go for this journey, and then see my new sort of friend show the guy at the desk in the front area of the morgue a single badge and get buzzed right through. If only the powers which chose to provide me with visions of the future and the power to heal the injured had seen fit to toss in a badge of my own. Or at least a certificate or something. I don’t even get dental. Or a salary, come to think of it. I’m pretty sure Gandhi got a better reimbursement deal.
The morgue where my dead guy, David Cellar, had been taken was in the basement of St. Paul’s Hospital. While we walked down the stainless corridor, I studied my companion. “So, what are you, anyway?”
He reached out and opened the door, glancing to me. “Uhh, I’m a forty one year old male and a Pisces?” He cleared his throat. “I enjoy long walks and quiet talks, a good--“
He choked as I pushed my arm into his gut. “I mean, what department are you with? What kind of cop are you?” I walked through the open door and into a large room with several stainless steel tables lining the middle of it, and ominous looking large drawers all along three of the walls. A chill ran through me that wasn’t entirely due to the cool air of the room.
Carter arched an eyebrow before chuckling as he followed me into the room. “Well, I was a homicide detective up in Boston. Then once I finished convincing my entire department that I’d lost my god damn mind and you weren’t anywhere to be found, I pulled up roots and moved down here. I figured Florida would be a good place to go crazy. The nuthouses here are supposed to be top notch. It’s also probably the only way I’ll ever get an ocean view on a cop’s salary.”
I started to nod, and then my attention fell on the table at the far end where a body lay under a sheet, obviously waiting to be examined. “That’s him.” Somehow, I just knew. Call it intuition or common sense. “He’s right there.” Despite my words, I made no move to step toward him. Despite my experiences, I still don’t relish seeing dead bodies. It’s something I don’t think I’ll ever get used to. I don’t want to get used to it.
I knew my face had gone a little pale, because Carter looked to me with concern. “Are you all right? You want me to look at him? What do you need to see?”
Oh, if only all I needed to do was see something. But no, this particular strength of mine didn’t work on a wireless connection. I needed contact. Slowly, I shook my head and stepped forward. “Take it-“ My voice caught. “Take it off. I need to touch him.”
That brought a frown as Tavelli hesitated before sighing. “All right, but this better not just be some way of getting your jollies.”
I heard him sweep the sheet off the body, but I wasn’t looking at it. I couldn’t look at it. I averted my gaze and swallowed. “Does this look like jolly-getting to you?” With an obvious cringe, I raised my hand and placed it against the forehead of the corpse. A wave of revulsion ran through me at the clammy feeling. Finally, I forced myself to raise my gaze. A moment later, I was looking into the eyes of a dead man.
I expected to be drawn into the same vision I’d had before, the one that had brought me to this place. I had seen the fight between David Cellar and his now on the lam girlfriend. I saw his desperation, and her glee when she murdered him. I had seen the way she reveled in her power, and I had seen that she would not stop with only him. I had known there would be others.
Rather than seeing what I had already seen, this vision was new. The woman, the murderer, was driving a van. The man she had killed, or apparently not killed in this particular future, was seated beside her. It didn’t look like a fun family road trip however, mostly due to the gag in the guy’s mouth and his wide eyed expression of horror. He was bound, handcuffed to the opposite door.
I was seeing this particular vision through the eyes of another man who was in the back seat, also apparently handcuffed. The woman was prattling on and on about her destiny and how unfair her life was before she stood up for herself. Neither of us seemed very interested, but our bonds and the fact that she randomly waved a gun around in one hand made us a captive audience.
My wrists were moving, rotating against the metal cuffs that held them. While the woman rambled on, I was somehow picking the lock on the handcuffs, freeing myself. Whoever I was, I felt a strong, urgent need to stop this woman from getting to wherever it was she wanted to go. My head turned to glance in the backseat, and the stack of explosives there kind of gave away the secret of what my rush was.
David caught my eye. He had apparently noticed, and gave me a subtle nod. With a silent count of three, both of us moved quickly. I brought both hands up and grabbed the woman’s arms while David twisted around and kicked her. Within a moment, the woman was subdued and I had leaned up over the seat to catch the abandoned wheel while David shoved his foot down against the pedals.
The woman was caught and the day was won. Of course, that particular vision couldn’t happen since David had been killed already.
When the vision reset itself, I was alone. There was no one in the front passenger seat. The same thing happened. I unlocked my cuffs, I saw the explosives, and I lunged forward to stop the woman. However, without David there to help, everything went immediately to hell. I couldn’t keep my grip on the woman, and there wasn’t anyone to fight her for possession of the pedals. She slammed on the brake and then cranked the wheel, throwing me to the side where my head bounced off the window.
I was scrambling to get back at her before she could get the pistol up. I caught her wrist and we were fighting, neither paying enough attention to the road. I heard an ear splitting shriek as the van plowed through some kind of metal divider, and then there was a horrible feeling of suspension before I saw a yellow wall loom ahead of us through the angled windshield. I had enough time to make out a few details of the schoolbus full of elementary children that we plowed into. Then everything went white as the van crumpled in. An instant later my sight was yanked back to a birds eye view as the explosives in the back of the van went up, obliterating both the van and the bus.
The facts rolled into my head. Thirty two children between the ages of seven and eleven would be killed, as would the driver, and the occupants of the van. Thirty five deaths, all because David Cellar wasn’t around to help.
I must have cried out, because Carter was abruptly standing in front of me, pushing me away from the body. “What?” He demanded. “What is it? What did you see?”
Now I really had no idea what to tell him. Because, not only would it be hard to explain the whole visions of possible futures thing, but there was another problem. Just before the vision had ended, I had seen the rearview mirror and caught a glimpse of myself. Now I had to tell him that not only was a schoolbus full of children going to be incinerated because a man failed to stop a psychotic woman, but I also had to tell him something worse.
I had to tell him that the man was him.
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You're VERY good at dramatic chapter endings! :o
If you haven't already looked into getting this published at some point, I highly recommend that you do. I know I'd buy a copy and I can name plenty of other people who would as well. +1
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Wow! Cerulean your gin=ving me shivers down my spine! I can't stand that kind of stuff, but I want more! MORE! +1
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So here's a shocker, I've already got another chapter written! I know, please contain your heart attacks. ;) I thought you all deserved a little more effort for your awesome support and comments. Thanks guys, and I hope you enjoy it.
Chapter Six
“What, can the devil speak true?” – Banquo, Act I, Scene III
There are ways to let someone know you have bad news. These range from good ways all the way down to stammering ‘Y-you…’ while staring at them in horror. What little of my brain was currently functioning chose to employ the latter method in this case. It went over about as well as you could expect.
“What?” Carter demanded, putting his hands on my shoulders as though to shake me out of this haze that had fallen over me. “What happened? Talk to me, damn it.”
Oh, he was of that particular breed of humanity that can’t translate inarticulate stammerings. I was going to have to put a little more effort into communication.
Unfortunately, before I could explain myself in something resembling English, the bang of the door being knocked open interrupted us. I believe I can say that I jumped in surprise without shame, because the big and more importantly, armed policeman beside me did the same thing.
I don’t know what my temporary partner expected to see, but I was this close to a full on dive behind one of these tables with thoughts of bullets spraying the walls. Which would have been embarrassing considering the man who entered came with a map and bucket instead of an uzi, but not nearly as embarrassing as the thought that I could actually dodge bullets. I’m a mediocre player in dodgeball, not Neo for crying out loud.
After casting a sidelong glance to me with a smirk as though he’d sensed my near dive, Carter greeted the new arrival with a polite. “Ahh, hey. Sorry if we’re in your way.”
Seeming just as startled to find the room occupied as we had been at his entrance, the man turned. He was tall and lanky, like Kramer from Seinfeld. He even had the frizzy brown hair. “Oh!” He released the mop handle and started to step forward with his hand out. Unfortunately, this meant that the mop began to fall behind him.
I raised my hand to point with a yelp, but Carter was faster. He lunged forward and reached past the guy to catch the falling mop before it could tip itself out of the bucket.
Even now, I can’t really explain how quickly this happened. One moment, the tall and lanky janitor was half turned with a kind of goofy surprised look. In the next moment, his eyes hardened as he caught hold of Carter’s arm and kind of pulled him around in a half spin as though they were dance partners. The man brought up a second hand, which held a syringe, and deftly inserted it in Tavelli’s neck. Then he simply and gracefully lowered the cop to the floor.
Frozen in surprise, I took a step back when the janitor raised his gaze to me. He seemed less goofy now and more dangerous, like a hyena that just stopped laughing. “There, let him sleep it off. We wouldn’t want to be interrupted, would we, Macbeth?”
The shock that he knew my name hit like a splash of cold water in the face. He was on his feet and stepping toward me then while he withdrew a pistol with an attached silencer from his tan jumpsuit. “I’ve got a few questions for you.”
In the movies, you see the grizzled hero charge into a hail of bullets without a hint of fear. Here’s the truth: guns are terrifying. I repeatedly, consciously put myself in situations where they come into play. But I am still afraid of them. I am not a grizzled hero. When someone points a gun at me, I am more likely to wet my pants than charge at them.
“How…” I struggled with my voice, pressing my back to the cold metal wall of drawers. “How do you know my name?”
He smiled, a disconcertingly open expression. “I’m a big fan of your work. I just had to find you.” His somewhat goofy look was back in full force, though the gun in his hand offset the image a bit. “You’re a remarkable woman, Macbeth. And very hard to find.” He laughed then, completing the earlier hyena comparison. “You can’t imagine what I went through to track you down.”
I swallowed and cast a glance toward Tavelli. What was it with men becoming obsessed with finding me? For that matter, what was it with them all suddenly locating me on the same day? “You could have sent an e-mail. I’ve got a yahoo account I check pretty often.”
His laugh was loud, and distracting. “You’re funny!” He exclaimed as though surprised. “I love that! I’ve got a gun.” He waved it as though I hadn’t seen the damn thing, like my heart wasn’t ramming its way out of my chest at the sight of it. “And you’re being funny. You’re great. Darryll’s going to love you.”
“Does he have a gun too?” I found my voice once more and kept talking. I’ve found in a lot of these situations that talking can be even better than being armed. There are more situations that you can potentially talk your way out of than shoot. This is particularly true when the other side has all the guns. “Maybe I should bring one, just so there isn’t that awkward silence when we all realize that everyone brought a gun but me.”
“There’s that funny again.” The man smiled broadly before gesturing with the gun. “I really don’t want to shoot the funny, so let’s get out of here, huh?”
“Yeah, I’d rather you didn’t shoot the funny too.” I eased myself off the wall and slowly began to walk to the door while my new acquaintance took a step back to keep the gun in line with me and himself out of reach. I didn’t know who he was, but the ease with which he’d incapacitated my cop friend and the way he carried himself in this situation made it clear that he definitely wasn’t your average janitor going postal.
That and what he knew of me was almost enough to make me want to go with him to see who he was. However, I’ve learned enough in these two years to realize that survival trumps curiosity, and you never go the way the pistol wielding nutcase wants you to go if you can help it.
As we neared the door, with him a couple feet behind me, I turned partly to look over my shoulder at him. “Did anyone ever tell you that you look like Kramer?” I timed my question to catch his foot in midair. He paused like that before bringing his foot down as he started to respond. His gun was momentarily pointed to the side.
I did two things then. First, I grabbed the handle of the mop and yanked it out of the dirty water. Then I kicked the bucket so that it slid on its wheels. I may have been mediocre at dodgeball, but I was pretty good at soccer and the bucket was right on target. The man stepped down directly into it. He let out a cry as his foot went partially out from under him while the water soaked his leg.
Before he could recover, I shoved the dirty, wet mop into his face as hard as I could. He sputtered and yelled as the bucket spun one way and his head was shoved back the other way. With a shout, he fell. I heard the slightest pfft noise as his gun fired a shot into the wall.
Praying that he’d stay on me and leave the unconscious Carter to recover, I lunged for the door while dropping the mop. I heard him scream behind me, but I wasn’t listening. I was sprinting through the hallway toward the exit, nearly falling with each stride. This was not a graceful run. This was a desperate, frantic race. I stretched my legs as far as they would go with each step, windmilling my arms as though it would make me go faster as well as to keep my precarious balance. Tripping right now would be far more than simply embarrassing.
I heard the door bang behind me and nearly had a stroke at the thought that it was a gunshot. Somehow the reminder that the man’s gun was silenced so I wouldn’t hear the shot that killed me wasn’t very reassuring.
The exit was just ahead and I ignored the pseudo-janitor’s shout as I slammed through it and into the front reception area. There was no sign of the clerk that had been manning the desk, and no indication of anyone else. This place was as empty as a… morgue. Oh yeah.
I didn’t waste time worrying about where anyone was. Instead, I hit the door to the stairs at full tilt. There was an elevator, but I couldn’t exactly wait for it to come down. Besides, with my track record today there’d be a third guy that’s become obsessed with finding me standing in it.
The stairs creaked as I raced up them, nearly crashing into the wall at the landing before managing to turn and keep running. I could hear footsteps below as the man continued to chase me. His furious shouts were inconsequential, but I had to stay out of his line of sight of his gunfire wouldn’t be.
At the next landing, I had a choice. There were stairs going up to the first floor of the hospital, where there were people and potentially, security. Or I could go through the door here marked Parking Garage. On the one hand, if I went up there were witnesses. On the other hand, I couldn’t be sure that this guy wouldn’t shoot them anyway.
I couldn’t put other people in danger like that. Not without knowing anything about what this guy was likely to do. I shoved the door open and went through it.
There were exits at either end of the dimly lit parking garage. Unfortunately, I wasn’t near either of them. And the gun-wielding janitor was right behind me. He’d be here any second, too quickly for me to make a run for the ramps that led out of the lot. Instead, I dropped to the cement floor and rolled under the nearest car.
I heard the door crash open as the man ran through it brief seconds after I managed to pull myself out of sight. “Hey!” He shouted and for a moment I was afraid that he’d seen me. Then I realized that he was listening to his own echo. “Macbeth! Come out.”
He took a step, and I realized that he was going to bend down to look under the cars. Quickly, but quietly, I continued my roll to come out on the other side of it. Keeping low, I brought myself up in a crouch, hiding behind the tire as I listened to the scraping of the man kneeling to look underneath the cars on either side.
My heart beat rapidly, pounding against my ribcage as the man spoke in a quieter tone. “You’re in here. I know you’re in here, Macbeth. Come on, I need to talk to you.” There was another scrape of a footstep and I strained my ears, trying to figure out if he was getting closer or further away.
“Someone’s going to die if you don’t help me.” His voice was low, like he knew I was close enough to hear even if he whispered. The echoes of this place were playing havoc with my ability to tell where he was. I couldn’t breath. Slowly, I leaned down to peer under the car with my heart in my threat.
I almost didn’t see his feet, but then he spoke again and I found him toward the front of the car. “You don’t want that to happen, do you?” He hadn’t seen me yet, but if he kept walking the way he was, he would any second. I stayed in a crouch and quickly moved around to the back of the car. He kept moving and so did I. In a moment, we had changed positions as he stood on the side of the car I had just been hiding behind.
“Macbeth.” His voice could have been a plea if it hadn’t sounded so threatening. “You’re going to help me. You’re going to help Darryll.” There was a tinking sound which I belatedly realized was him tapping his pistol against the side of the car.
Too afraid to breath, I slowly pushed myself away from the car. I leaned over to look under it and nearly had a heart attack when I saw him. I realized after my brief moment of terror that I was looking at the back of his head as he crouched to peer under the car on the other side. He continued his one sided conversation. “Do you know why you’re going to help us?”
All he had to do was turn his head slightly and he’d see me. With my fear choking my breath from me, I quietly pushed my way backwards. I took one crouched step after another, tenderly putting my foot down each time for fear of making any sound. Gradually, I eased myself to the next car in line away from this one while staying as low as I could.
I didn’t answer the man, but he didn’t seem to care if he had to talk to himself. “You’re going to help us because it’s the kind of person you are. And what I’m going to do if you don’t, well, that’s the kind of person I am. Think about it.”
There were quick footsteps and I flattened myself against the other side of the car that I had just hidden behind. Briefly, I was afraid that he’d known where I was all along and had just been playing with me. But the footsteps stopped before reaching the car, near the door that we had come through.
He spoke again. “I’ve got something for you. Take a look at it. Decide if staying away from me is in your best interest. Because if I don’t get what I want, I’m going to be disappointed.”
There was a brief rustling of papers, and then a muffled thump as something hit the ground. The man stood silently for a moment as we both waited for the other to make the next move. Then I heard the door creak as he opened it. “Meet me at the bird statue in Leland Park in three hours.” With that, he stepped through the door and let it close behind him. I heard him whistle.
I stayed behind the car for another five minutes, afraid that it was a trick and he’d throw the door open and grab me the instant I stood up. But finally I had to take the chance. Gingerly, I slowly rose from my crouched position and winced as pain shot through my cramped legs.
“Ow.” I bit my lip and slowly stepped around the edge of the car to glance down at what the man had dropped. It was a plain looking manilla folder, full of papers that had partially fallen out.
Slowly, I stepped over to the folder and, with a wary eye on the door, leaned down to pick it up. Once I straightened, I saw my name on the folder, scrawled in black ink. “What the…” My question trailed off as I opened the folder to find what the man had thought would bring me to him.
I had thought that my shock was over. I was wrong. Inside the folder were medical records, school reports, field trip permission slips, everything from my life. He had my record, all of it. There was even a photocopy of the one speeding ticket I’d gotten three weeks after getting my license. He had it all.
And under the last bit of paper was a single photograph that was turned over. Gingerly, I pulled it out and flipped it around. Then my heart sank and I closed my eyes briefly. But when I opened them, the picture was still the same.
The photograph was of my parents, obviously taken without their knowledge at some kind of out door restaurant. The message was made as clear as it could be. Around both of their heads, a bullseye had been drawn. If I didn’t help this man, my parents were his next targets.
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Wow. Your writing is amazing! The style kind of reminds me of Bartimaeus, with the sarcastic, biting humor you have going on. But that's nothing compared to your plot and characters! It's been a long time since I've read such a suspenseful story that I felt that I could barely breathe, and that's what your story is!
I'm glad you're going to publish this. I'd buy it in a heartbeat.
+1
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It reads like a witty, fast-paced action movie. Great work. :)
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Wow Cerulean! This is great ad addictive. I too would buy this if you got it published.
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wow, thanks for the two chapters! You're spoiling us :) that was fantastic as usual. I was really feeling Macbeth's fear!
I agree with Mike, you have a knack for writing dramatic chapter endings :P love it.
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Ahhh, this is so great :D
Seriously, if you don't get this published...
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Thanks Dino. I've heard about Bartimaeus, but I've never actually read it. Maybe I should.
And thanks guys, I love the encouragement. It makes me wish I could write faster, because I look forward to your responses every time I post a new chapter. I hope you like this one. Enjoy it!
Chapter Seven
"Screw your courage to the sticking-place." -Lady Macbeth, Act I, scene vii
If there are words to describe how much I longed to walk away from all of this, my vocabulary has yet to include them. Personally, I blame my dad for pushing Battleship instead of Scrabble on all our game nights. Sure, I can sink your fleet in a cross pattern grid search. But unless I'm drafted and promoted to Admiral in some absurd war where ships remain perfectly still, that doesn't help me nearly as much as a deeper command of language would.
Suffice it to say, I was scared. I also needed to pee. The two feelings were not unrelated. The adrenaline that had been pumping through my system left my shoulders heaving as I panted. My legs wouldn't hold me up and I slumped a little against the car hood while my gaze remained riveted on the folder that I held.
For a few moments, I let the shakes take over. I didn't know what that man would have done if I'd let him catch me, but it wouldn't have been candyland and reindeer games. I've dealt with a lot of crazies in this perilous voyage of mine, but something about this one stood out. Maybe it was just the fact that he knew me, or the effortless way he'd dispatched Tavelli. But I had a feeling, the kind of feeling that I've come to trust, that it was more than that. There was nothing pedestrian about the evil within the man I had just met.
I've seen them before, the special brand of crazy, because original recipe sociopaths get boring after awhile. They infest this world like worms within an apple, tainting society's crisp, fresh flavors with their ooze. But even with all of my experience these past two years, I had never met a man who affected me quite the way that this creature did.
I wanted to run away. I wanted to make someone else deal with this. I was twenty years old for god's sake. I wasn't trained. I wasn't some super spy. I couldn't deal with some professional killer stalking me or my family. This was way out my bounds big. I was supposed to be in college, goofing off and getting some idea of what I wanted to do with my life. It wasn't fair, and it shouldn't have been my problem.
It shouldn't have been, but it was. It was my problem. Because if I had been the type of person who could walk away, my life wouldn't be nearly as complicated as it is. I was scared, and I was out of my league, but I was going to have to deal with it. There was no back up, no reinforcements, and no safety net.
I let my breath out at that, watching my hand until the shaking stopped. I could let myself curl into a ball and cry about the unfairness of the world, or I could move and do something about it. I chose to do something.
After shoving the folder into my backpack, I made my way back inside and down to the room where I had left Tavelli. I had to make sure he was okay. And besides, there was still the exploding schoolbus problem, which wasn't going to magically solve itself just because I had my own issues. The truth is that if the world sees you have too much to deal with, its most common reaction is to give you even more to deal with. At the current rate of expansion, I fully expect the universe to point me at an imploding star with an expectant look any day now.
When I got back to the morgue, the assistant or secretary or whatever he was still wasn't anywhere to be seen. I found Tavelli picking himself up off the floor with a dazed expression and quickly moved to help him stand. "You don't look too good." I noted the obvious with a wince. "Sorry. I'm sorry, are you okay?"
For a moment, Carter looked like he was rewinding the previous events through his mind. When his expression clouded in confusion, I knew he was replaying them yet again to be sure he hadn't missed something. Apparently he came to the same conclusion because he jerked his head around to stare at me. "That was no ****ing janitor!"
"Nice of you to catch up." I replied, dryly. Then I spoke in a bright, airline stewardess voice, complete with hand gestures. "Thank you for joining us on Plot Airlines. The captain has asked that you keep your seats in the upright and locked position as we make our way through some of the turbulance of the B Plot. Off to your right, you may be able to make out the tell-tale signs of the A Plot, which our captain will be swinging the plane toward any moment now."
My reward for entertaining him was a raised eyebrow as he rubbed the back of his neck. "You're a strange kid, you know that?" His brow knitted in a frown. "What happened? Where'd that guy go? What the hell did he want?"
The thing was, I could probably trust Tavelli. The universe, after all, had directed me to him more than once. He was, I was certain, a decent guy that I could count on. But I still didn't want to put all my eggs in one basket. Besides, I wanted him to focus on the bus thing. The janitor, or whatever he was, I could deal with on my own. Or if I couldn't, I didn't want to drag Tavelli down with me.
So I lied. I told you I was good at it. "I don't know. He chased me out of here and I lost him in the parking garage. I guess he took off." The best way to lie, I've found with my now extensive experience, is to tell the truth except for certain details. That and to be vague. People don't usually get specific unless they're making something up. Let the audience fill in most of the blanks, because they're more likely to believe it that way.
It worked. Tavelli stared at me searchingly for a moment, then gave a short nod. "Let me get a unit down here. We'll find what he touched, see if any of the cameras caught him. He's not a ghost. I'll find out what he wanted."
I tried hard not to flinch. "No. How are you going to explain why you were down here? Because I'm sure as hell not giving a statement." He opened his mouth to argue, but I cut him off. "What exactly do you want me to say? No one would believe it. At best, your squad or captain or whatever thinks your trying to impress some college chick you wanna bang. At worst, they toss us both in the nuthouse."
His gaze stayed locked on mine briefly, but then he relented with a sigh. "You're right. Fine, so we do it the hard way. Just keep an eye out for him. What did you ahhh..." He gestured back toward the body on the table. "... find out?"
This was going to be the hard part. I hesitated before turning back to the door. "Come on. I have a feeling you're going to want to be sitting down when you hear this." I paused before adding contemplatively. "And possibly be plastered."
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"Wait. Wait, wait wait. You want me to believe that you can see the future and it tells you who's going to die? And you just go around making things better?" You could have broken steel over the sharp edge of Carter's skepticism.
We were sitting on the hood of Tavelli's car in the parking lot about an hour later. I had done everything I could to explain almost everything to him. He was pretty much in denial, and kept interrogating me about insignifigant details, as though trying to trip me up on my story. It was obvious that he couldn't help but think I was at least a little bit out of my mind.
Not that I blamed him, but I was still annoyed. So I shot back. "Oh so you were on board with the whole 'healed a dying girl with the power of my mind' thing, but seeing the future is too unrealistic?" With mock curiousness, I asked. "Where exactly is the line? Is it specifically seeing the future or is it the whole multiple futures thing? Where do we hit the spot where this couldn't possibly happen, but everything else could?"
He gave me an annoyed look, but I just shrugged at him. I was tired of defending myself. After a moment, he let out his breath in a sign of acceptance. "Okay, fine. You've got a point. None of this is exactly believable, but I know it's gotta be." He put his hands up to cover his face as a long sigh escaped him, and I belatedly realized that he had been fighting the truth not so much because he didn't believe me, but because he didn't want to think about that kind of responsibility. And that was something I could fully understand. "Damn."
"Damn." He repeated himself before moving his hands with a deep breath. "Right. I can't just do nothing. If the woman has a bomb, she might detonate it somewhere worse than a schoolbus full of kids."
I thought carefully. "Two schoolbuses full of kids?" I shrugged. "I can't really see it getting a lot worse than that, but you're right. It's not going to get much better either. She could be trying to blow up a building full of lawyers or something, but I'm not usually that lucky." At his dirty look, I coughed. "Sorry. Blowing anyone up is bad. So, what are you going to do about it?"
He ran the back of his hand over his mouth thoughtfully, then stood up. "First, I'm going to find out who this woman is. You said she was dating our stiff in the morgue, so I'll start there. We'll find out who she is, then go to her place. With any luck, we'll catch her at home before any of what you saw goes down."
"And when that doesn't work out?" I asked him not so much out from a doubt of his capabilities as from an even greater respect for the universes ability to make life difficult. "When you find out she's gone without leaving a clue of where she went, what then?"
I had the sense that he'd already been thinking along the same lines. "Well, then I'll go from there. Even if we can't find out where she went, something in her place has got to give us an idea of what or who she might want to blow up."
That much made sense, so I nodded. "Great. You have fun with that. I've got stuff." I slid off the hood of the car and hitched my backpack up once more.
Tavelli paused with his hand on his door, then reached into his pocket and passed a business card to me. "Call me. My cell number's on there. Check in, and..." He hesitated before going ahead. "Be careful. This isn't a game." He raised a hand to forestall my retort. "I know, you already know that. But I'm a cop, and I've been a dad. I give advice. It's what I do. Just watch yourself."
I took the card and gave him a quick nod before turning from the car to walk away. Baring my soul, telling someone for the first time what I had been doing was an incredible experience. It was a relief in some ways, to be able to share my reality with someone else. And yet, I still hadn't told him everything. He had no idea that I had to go and meet with this janitor-assassin, or that my parents were being threatened. Maybe it was stupid. Maybe he could have done something. But it would have taken his focus off of stopping Little Miss Muffet who was going to sit on her tuffet and blow the hell out of something. Besides, this problem was personal.
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When I finally made it to the so called 'bird statue' a couple of hours later, I missed the deadline by about fifteen minutes. It wasn't entirely my fault, since I had been looking for an actual statue of a bird when the meeting place was actually a statue of some random explorer that birds tended to sit and poop on. The fact that I really didn't want to show up at this meeting was inconsequential. I blamed Mr. Ninja-Custodian for not being specific enough. I'm still working on the phrasing of the argument that places him solely responsible for global warming and the stock market crash of 1987, but give me time.
I showed up next to the statue and turned in a slow circle. There were some kids playing with a frisbee and their black lab about twenty yards off, and their mothers were watching them from a blanket, but other than that the area looked empty.
Of course, I am obviously not trained assassin secret agent commando who takes the odd job sweeping floors, because somehow my old janitor buddy managed to pop up directly behind me when I had just been certain there was no one there a second earlier. His voice startled me. "You're late."
I jerked around and tried to breath. He was close, way too close. I fought down my nervousness and made myself sound casual. "Yeah well, sorry. Maybe next time you should be more specific with your directions. You wouldn't point someone to the Statue of Liberty by calling it that one statue with the stairs."
The man chuckled, sounding genuinely amused. "I'm sorry. That's what the people around here call it. I should remember that this isn't home for you. But then, what is nowadays?" His tone left it unclear of whether he was actually asking or pointing out that I had no real home. I figured that wasn't an accident. But I wasn't going to volunteer anything he didn't already know.
"Home is where the heart is." I responded brightly, then asked. "Speaking of which, is yours still in your chest or did you bury it with your phylactory?" When he squinted at me, obviously not understanding, I started to explain before waving it off. "It's a lich--oh never mind. What do you want?"
The man laughed slightly. "What do I want? I want a great many things, Macbeth. But first, I want you to tell me everything you've done since you were awakened."
"Everything since I woke up?" I retorted with an insolent shrug. "Do you mean this morning or after my nap on the bus?"
He frowned, unamused. "Stop being difficult, Macbeth. You know what I'm talking about. I want to know what you've been up to since your powers emerged. I want to know where you've been running around and who you've been talking to. It's time to be honest. Remember, you don't want me to get annoyed, or bored."
"Oh gods no, I wouldn't want you to be bored." I replied with fear that I really had to work to make sound fake. "You might mop a floor and then break someone's neck. Or you might get confused and mop someone's neck and then break a floor."
He began to reach out and I held my hands up defensively. "Fine, fine. Okay, don't kill me. But tell me something first. How do you know me? Who are you?"
The nature and occassional inherant ridiculousness of my journey has brought me so many surprises that you would think that, despite the contradiction of terms, I would stop being surprised by them. However, nothing I had learned so far could have prepared me for the answer that I recieved.
The man himself remained smug and silent, like a cat who had just eaten the canary. Given the man's evil, I couldn't entirely rule out that he had swallowed both bird and feline. The response came from, as you've already guessed if you have any sense of both drama and my life, behind me. When I heard it, I turned with the look of dread, shock, and horror that must meet any door to door cutlery salesman that finds himself on OJ Simpson's stoop. I prayed that lightning would strike one of us. At the moment, I wasn't exactly picky about which one.
But as much as I tried to wish I hadn't heard, the voice rang through my head like the clanging of bells high atop Notre Dame, a building I would gladly have thrown myself off of rather than finish turning around to face that vile creature.
The voice that grated my nerves had spoken as sweetly as cyanide laced honey. "Oh now, missy. I think that answer should be faintly obvious, shouldn't it? He's my son."
Aunt Maisie gave me a look that was equal parts critisism and amusement. "And here I thought you'd be able to work just a few things out on your own without having them spelled out for you." When I opened my mouth, she brought her hand up and pressed her wrinkled finger to my lips with a clucking of her tongue. "Shush now. You've done enough talking, haven't you, Little Busybody?" She smiled, obviously satisfied with herself. "Yes, yes I believe so. It's time you listened."
I turned my head slightly to the side and rolled my eyes toward my old friend the murderous janitor. "Can I change my mind on that whole killing me now thing?"
Ignoring my comment, the man took my arm. "Let's get out of here. I don't like these open places. She could have told someone."
Maisie just laughed that off. "Of course she didn't. She wants to protect 'mommy' and 'daddy'." She gave me a patronizing look and reached up to ruffle my hair with an airy laugh as though something had just occured to her. "The poor little dear." She met my gaze, feeding off my reaction to her next words. "You know, I think our little project still believes she's actually human."
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How are you still managing to come up with epic cliffhangers at the end of every chapter? :o
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i have never seen any book with somany cliffhangers. Bravo Cerulean! +1
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Holy crud that was an epic twist! :o
You are such an awesome writer! I hope you come out with the next chapter soon, 'cuz I don't know how long I can wait to see what happens next!
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ohhh I wasn't expecting that at all! wow wow wow :) good work!
not human hmm? Alien? Experiment? Can't wait to find out!
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Alien would be cool, but I'm guessing some kinf of experiment. Or maybe something else entirely? Can't wait to find out! :)
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well she could be a Clark Kent type of alien...that'd be awesome 8)
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Tavelli=awesome
Maisie=HOLY CRAP
Chapter ending= Damn you can write.
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Tavelli=awesome
Maisie=HOLY CRAP
Chapter ending= Damn you can write.
my thoughts, even though i already said, are the same.
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Wow, thanks for all the discussion, you guys. I'm glad you like it, and I'm glad that little cliffhanger provoked a few guesses. ;) I'm sorry to say, none of you were exactly right, but then, I hope the idea that I was hopefully able to surprise you is a good thing. (And yes, the answer of what exactly Macbeth is DOES appear in this chapter. I don't leave you hanging on that)
Anyway, glad you guys still like it (and I find myself liking Tavelli too, considering he was originally a one-off character that I decided to bring back and make more important), so here's the next chapter!
Chapter Eight
"What are these So wither'd and so wild in their attire. That look not like the inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on 't?" - Macbeth, Act I, Scene III
Obviously, this was a ploy to distract me and make me focus on that rather than on what I should do now. So, knowing it was a trick meant I'd never fall for it. I wouldn't obsess over the implication that I wasn't human and I definitely wouldn't fall into their game by passively going with them in the hope that they'd tell me what the hell they meant. I was entirely too smart and experienced to fall apart in confusion because of an obvious lie. So what, I asked myself as we entered the hotel where my dear pseudo-Aunt and her murderous son were apparently staying, was I doing here then?
They were lying, of course. They had to be. I was a human. I had ten toes, ten fingers, two eyes, a nose, and even a belly button. Life isn't Star Trek. If I was something that wasn't human, there'd be some kind of sign. I'd be different somehow. You know, like maybe I'd have super special abilities that no one else had. Crap.
But still, I was a human, wasn't I? I had human parents and I had a human life. I was normal, up until two years ago. Since then of course, I had been anything but normal, but that didn't mean my life before then was a lie. I was a human being, not a robot, mutant, alien, or any combination of the above. There was absolutely nothing strange about me short of my ability to see the future, heal the injured, and a complete inability to shut up when I really should. There are times when the latter is the most dangerous skill I possess.
"Wait, wait, wait. Let me guess again. You think I'm a shapeshifted dragon, right?" I continued my running commentary as we entered the hotel. You'd think being caught between the woman who made my life hell every time I saw her even before I knew she was evil, and the man who threatened to kill my parents would make me be quiet. But, I guess when you actively throw yourself in life threatening situations day after day, the first thing that dies is your sense of self preservation.
The custodial assassin elbowed me hard. "Shut up. Just shut up. Shut the **** up." He seemed a little on edge. I didn't know why, I was already walking with them and I was, naturally, unarmed. Why was he acting like he was transporting some kind of live bomb?
On the other side of me, as we moved through the hotel lobby where dozens of guests went about their business with no idea that a pair of serpents straight out of Eden walked among them, Maisie remained calm. Unlike her son, she seemed happy and excited. "Now, Micky, just relax. She's trying to goad you."
"Micky?" I echoed before turning my gaze sympathetically to the man. "Dude, I'm sorry. Here I thought you were a psychopath for no good reason, but first I find out your mom is Granny Goodness and now your name is Micky?"
He whirled on me, grabbing my arm hard as he raised his finger threateningly. "You're going to shut up right now before I cut your god damned tongue out and make you ****ing eat it, you stupid little ****!"
Maisie wasn't as easily provoked as her son, and gave him a solid push while maintaining her sickly sweet smile. "Get in the elevator, dear. You know the poor little lost dear is just trying to get you to make a fool out of yourself. People are watching. Don't fall for her juvenile game."
"Juvenile?" I protested. "That was at least a tenth grade level game. Give me a little credit. Oh! Wait, am I one of those immortals like from Highlander?" I frowned. "I'm not Scottish though. Do you have to be Scottish to be one of those? Is that some kind of prerequisite?" While I was practically shoved onto the elevator, I continued. "What about an alien? Am I a Vulcan? Do I have big ears?"
Once we were on the elevator and it began to rise, Micky shoved me hard against the wall. "Shut up." He sounded like a broken record, and like he was trying not to pay attention to me. His expression said he had no idea why his mother thought I was so important, because I had to be an ignorant little rambling child who couldn't even tie my shoes without help. Good, that's what I wanted.
I made a couple more guesses on our way up, but then fell silent when the elevator door opened to reveal a palatial penthouse suite. There were floor to ceiling windows around every wall that looked out over the city, an enormous flatscreen tv that was at least half the size of a movie theater screen, plush carpeting, even a room service cart with fresh fruit piled high on it. "Holy god." I breathed out.
"No, not one of those either." Micky muttered as he walked off the elevator and went straight to the fruit. He started to pick through it carefully, coming out with an orange which he began to peel.
I turned to Maisie then and folded my arms. "Okay, this is a great place." I tried not to sound too positive about that, considering I still had a cramp in my neck from sleeping on the bus. "But what do you want? Why am I here and what is it you think I am?"
Maisie raised a finger to her lips like she was shushing a child and gently picked up a small silver bell, which she rang twice before setting down once more. A moment later, a man in the uniform of the hotel staff emerged from one of the back areas and stood at attention. "Yes, Miss Morta?"
Morta? What was he talking about? Maisie's last name was MacFarquhar. She must have checked in under a false name, but why exactly would she need to do that? I idiotically wondered for about three seconds before remembering the psychopath currently munching fruit to my left. No wonder she didn't want to be here under her own name.
"Yes, Jensen." Maisie smiled before slowly reaching her hand out to point at the stiffly standing man. She tipped her squat little head sideways a little and dragged her finger through the air like she was tracing a line over his neck. I was briefly confused, and then horrified as the man abruptly dropped like he was a puppet whose strings had been cut.
My eyes widened and then I jerked forward, dropping down beside the man to turn him over. "Hey!" I couldn't find a pulse. He was dead. He had been fine seconds earlier and there hadn't even been a blue aura to tell me he was about to die. There was absolutely no reason for him to be dead. And yet, he just was. With one hand on his chest and the other pressed against his pale neck, I stared up at the woman who had killed him with a thought, without giving me the slightest warning. "What did you do?! What the hell are you?!" My jokes and proddings were gone. A man was dead and that was something I couldn't fix.
Maisie just smiled sweetly, shaking her head. "Oh do stop being so hysterical, you little child. It's unbecoming." She snapped her fingers. "Come." With that, she walked to the sliding glass doors that led to the balcony.
I shook my head, staying where I was. "No! Tell me what's going on. How did you kill him? Why?! Why are you doing this?"
The ugly, vile woman looked back at me pointedly. "I'm doing this, dear, to prove a point. And if you don't come here, I will continue proving my point with all the people that I can see from this balcony." She snapped her fingers once more like I was a dog and pointed at the spot next to her. "Now."
I didn't have a choice. While Micky continued to ignore us in favor of his fruit, I slowly picked myself up and walked that way, feeling numb. What was I supposed to do against a man who was a skilled enough assassin take down a trained cop without much effort, not to mention the woman who surpassed him to the point of killing by looking at someone?
As we moved out onto the balcony, I could see cars and pedestrians passing directly beneath us. In front of the building was the beach, where dozens, if not hundreds of people frolicked, surfed, and played with the waves. Maisie could turn a fun day at the beach into a holocaust, and she wouldn't even need to leave the comfort of her suite. For the first time in a long time, I felt truly helpless to stop what might happen.
Maisie remained silent for a minute. She watched the people below, and I watched her. I was looking for some kind of sign that she was going to kill someone else. I didn't know if she even needed to use her finger the way she had, or if that was simply for my benefit. But if she made the same move again, I had to do something. I have done stranger things than tackling a fat old woman, but I didn't know how long I'd last if I tried that. Even if she didn't turn her killing finger on me, her son would be out here in less time than it would take us to hit the floor. But, if she started her move, I had to try.
After an eternity and two minutes of silence, she began to speak. "Centuries ago, I was feared and respected by man and gods alike." Her voice was steady, though she sounded annoyed.
I twisted my head to look over the balcony before turning back to her. "Uh. I knew you were old, but damn." Honestly after everything that I had seen, I couldn't be the one to tell her she was insane. Maybe she was, but she had also just killed a man with a simple gesture and look. So at this point, nothing was out of the question.
I didn't even see her hand move until my cheek was stinging after she slapped me. "Silence. You are a child. You will learn respect." Her beady little eyes glared at me for a moment before she continued. "I determined when men would die. Regardless of their power, regardless of their fame, they all perished when I decided that their time was up. They respected me, flattered me, did everything to win me over. The Greeks called me Atropos."
She sounded nostalgic, and I let her keep talking. As crazy as this sounded, she did have a certain amount of credibility. Her voice turned hard then. "But, certain men cannot accept the way of things and began to search for a way to remove me from their lives. They thought they should be able to determine the course and end of their own destiny. They were fools." Her obviously rising anger was tapered by a self-pitying sigh. "But they were powerful fools. They discovered a way to destroy my body and trap me within time itself. For centuries, I drifted, unable to be born and yet unable to pass on. I was a prisoner of the void."
I decided to try speaking up. "No wonder you're annoyed. They didn't even send a gameboy or a book with you? That must have been pretty boring."
Her hot glare turned back to me angrily. "It was not boring! I spent the years crafting my escape, and my revenge. In time, I was able to create a new body, a new life for myself. I was reborn. At first, I was as ignorant as you. Then, throughout my pathetic childhood, I gradually became self-aware of my own past and my destiny. I would have the ears of kings and gods themselves would tremble before my words. But first, I had to know what had been done to trap me before, to ensure that it could never be done again."
"Right..." I said slowly, a little confused. "You needed to take their weapon away, if they still had it, before you made yourself known. But what exactly does that have to do with me? Sorry to tell you, but I'm not any kind of weapon. Do you think I'm supposed to be the one to trap you again?" The idea perked me up a little, because I definitely wouldn't have hesitated to use such an ability at that point. If I was lucky, I'd be able to get a twofer and nail the psychotic fruit grazer too.
Maisie laughed then, a tittering sound that grated my nerves. "Of course not, you silly, stupid little girl. You are not the weapon. You are the experiment. You are the... lamb if you will. If they found and trapped you, I would know who they were." She scowled, looking both annoyed and disappointed. "But you wouldn't cooperate. You kept your power secret. And you... you helped people." Now she sounded completely appalled.
"Uh." I started. "What's wrong with helping people? I mean, if you don't have megalomaniacal plans for world take-over and kneeling Gods, it's a pretty decent way to pass the time. It pays crap but at least I'm never really bored. Even if I don't have a gameboy either."
"You are not meant to help them!" Maisie all but shouted. "You are meant to use your power openly so that I can kill those who come after you! We are meant to rule this pathetic dustball!" Any trace of sweetness was gone. "The stupid, ugly little barely functional apes do not deserve your efforts! We are above them! We are above gods!"
I took a step back from her, shaking my head. "I hate to tell you, lady, but I'm not one of you. I don't want to rule over the ahhh, the human race. I mean, I kinda am one."
Both of her hands grabbed my arms and she glared, digging her nails into me painfully. "No, you're not." Her words were deliberate and hard, like a boxers three punch combo, tearing through my defenses.
There were no jokes, no guesses now. I stared at that old woman's eyes and asked in a plain voice. "Then, what am I?"
She continued to squeeze my arms as her smile returned. "I am the third fate, the third Moirai, Atropos." Her gaze burned directly into the center of my being. "I determine the end of lives. You are not here to save people. You are here to tell them what they will do with their lives! You will guide them to me. You determine the lives of man, and I determine their deaths. You are the second fate, the second Moirai. You control the course of lives, the course of their destiny. You are Lachesis. You are my sister."
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Holy crap that was awesome! Never saw that coming.
Seriously, kudos on weaving mythology and reality together so well. You make Atropos seem like a very real person, if perhaps a little crazy, but hey, who wouldn't be after centuries of isolation? I'm actually a little scared now, and will probably avoid old ladies for a while if I can help it.
+1
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You are getting far too good at these plot twists, lol. Great work as always. I love the reference to Greece, I like Greek mythology.
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Whoo! Greek mythology! Awesome twist. This just keeps getting better :D
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Awesome stuff....but....I don't do Greek Mythology. Gonna withdrawl, sorry.
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You're going to stop reading just because of the mythology? No offence, but that seems like a ridiculous reason to stop reading a great story.
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Mike, I know more about Greek Mythology than the average person. I don't want to have any connection what-so-ever with it. Can you accept this Mike? :)
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Sorry to lose you over something like that. It seems really weird to me. If you liked the story before that, I don't see why using greek mythology would suddenly turn you off, even if you 'know so much about it'. But I guess you've gotta do what you've gotta do.
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Mike, I know more about Greek Mythology than the average person. I don't want to have any connection what-so-ever with it. Can you accept this Mike? :)
I don't want to pester you or anything, but is there any specific reason?
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I'll pm you an article i found about it. It's long, very long.
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Well, whatever you found, isn't refusing to read what I write kind of strange? Considering I'm simply taking inspiration from it and writing my own thing. What you're doing is a little like refusing to read any book that involves wizards, because you hate Harry Potter. or refusing to read any book that involves knives, because you were once cut by a knife.
Again, feel free to read or not read, it doesn't really affect me either way. I just think it's odd. It's like you're blaming ME for a problem you have with some mythology written thousands of years ago.
If you enjoyed the story before, I can't see why you wouldn't enjoy it now. It's not like it's suddenly bad because of certain inspiration.
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Hey, Shorty? PM me that article of yours, too, could you? I'm insanely curious to see what on earth could have turned you off of this story. It had darn well better be good . . .
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Hey, Shorty? PM me that article of yours, too, could you? I'm insanely curious to see what on earth could have turned you off of this story. It had darn well better be good . . .
Would you mind sending it to me as well? I'm also curious about it. Personally I find Greek mythology really interesting.
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Nice. :) I'm a fan of greek mythology also, I love how you've put that in. Hey Cerulean can you draw? Coz it'd be awesome to see some greek goddess pics of Macbeth!
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Oh that would be awesome, but no, sorry. I am absolutely terrible at art.
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You'd be too busy anyway as it is :P
wish I could draw, I'd love to have a go! Hmm...any volunteers? :) :)
Anyway, congrats Cerulean, great update as usual! +1
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Happy birthday to me! 8) ;D
Chapter Nine
"I dare do all that may become a man; Who dares do more, is none." - Macbeth, Act I, Scene VII
"Jeeze, lady, could you have sprung it on her any less bluntly?" The voice came from the corner of the patio where I could have sworn only a potted fern stood before. Now, a teenage girl sat on the edge of the fern. She looked to be about sixteen, with combat boots, dirty jeans, and a black pull over sweat shirt that had seen better days. Her hair was short and spiky, and had been colored bright pink.
I was slightly gratified to see that Maisie seemed to be just as startled by the girl's abrupt appearance as I was. Of course, I was still several leagues ahead in the shock olympics, considering what I had just been told. Was I really some reincarnation of one of those old women that measure and cut the string of life? If I was, it would take the nightmares I had about those ladies after seeing Disney's version of Hercules to entire new levels of irony.
"You are not to disturb us, creature." Maisie all but growled from beside me. I had the feeling she was pretty close to using her old point and kill routine. "Begone, and remember your place. Your domain is the ground. It's foolish for you to stray so far from it." She indicated the skyline around us.
At the sliding glass door, Micky appeared silently. In his right hand he held the same gun that I'd seen him with earlier. At least I assumed it was the same gun. But for all I knew, he had an entire arsenal tucked under his bed. He stood with the weapon as though to back up his mother's threat. Which, at this point, was kind of like the chihuahua that backs up the threat of the doberman. Lots of enthusiasm, not much point. His appearance did serve to remind me that I still didn't know who this Darryll was that he had mentioned.
The newcomer glanced sidelong toward the tall man in the doorway before turning her attention back to the obviously irritated Maisie. She raised her hands to her chest in mock surprise. "My domain is the ground? Well, **** on a shingle. I guess I better get back down there, huh?" She looked at me then, eyes sparkling mischiviously. "Hey you. You wanna see something cool?"
"Uhhh." That was as far as I got before the girl was running straight at me. Maisie raised her hand and shouted. Micky reacted quickly enough to pull his gun into line, but held his fire as his target passed his mother. Which should have made me feel better about being able to beat the woman if he was worried about hurting her. But at the moment I was still stuck back on the last couple h's of my uhhh. These people were executing Matrix precision ballet maneuvers and I sounded like I was learning the vowels. This was not a fair fight.
The pink haired bullet crashed into me a second later and I felt her arms tighten around my waist. Then there was a brief but sharp pain in my side as we smacked off the railing before tipping over it. I heard Maisie scream once more and there was a brief sensation of weightlessness before everything began to plummet. I believe my stomach fell so fast it arrived several minutes ahead of time and established a base camp.
The next few seconds were filled with screaming, cursing, and even begging. "Ohhh **** yes! Hell yeah! Oh god please let me do this again! Whoooooo!" Yeah, that was the girl. I was too shocked to do anything except make a strangled and inarticulate cry.
We plummetted toward the ground. My scream rose to match my insane and suicidal companion's, for completely different reasons. I heard her shout. "Now you're getting into it!" I would have strangled her if my hands weren't busy frantically trying to sign 'Save Me' in case God was deaf. You never knew.
Abruptly, a wave of vertigo swept over me as we fell. I cringed and closed my eyes as my stomach rolled, and then we weren't falling any more. It was sudden, and should have been jarring, but somehow wasn't. All of that momentum had simply vanished.
Convinced that I was hallucinating, or had somehow died painlessly, I slowly opened my eyes. Cautiously, I peeked around. I was standing on grass, next to a tree. A couple of guys were flying a kite a little ways off, and there were a few joggers making their way along the path nearby. I was back in the park, several miles away from the hotel.
Before I could do more than let out a choke sob of relief as I grabbed onto the tree before my weak and shaking knees could dump me to the ground, the pink haired girl appeared once more. She popped up from the side, clapping me on the shoulder. "Hell yeah! That's an exit. Am I right? That was sweet. Did you see the look on those idiot's faces? ****, I wish I had a camera."
Still breathing hard, I raised my gaze to hers and, with some effort, managed to speak. "Who are you?" There were a few other things I wanted to ask, such as how we were still alive, but my brain was too busy trying to convince itself that we weren't dead to send the question to my mouth.
The girl flashed an impish grin. "Often. And before we get into some kind of Abbott and Costello routine, that's my name. Often. " She raised her hand, quickly taking mine. "And you're Macbeth. Good to meet you. Put her there." Holding my hand in place, the girl slapped it and then turned her hand over for me to slap hers. After I awkwardly did so, she snapped her fingers and gave me a thumbs up. "Yeah, baby. We aced them."
By now my brain had convinced itself that we really weren't dead, and I managed to ask. "How?! What the hell was that?! What just happened?"
Laughing slightly, Often gestured. "Oh relax, we just did a little Tree Surfing." When I looked at her blankly, she withdrew a pack of gum from her pocket while explaining. "When I'm close enough to a plant, I can enter it and pop out again wherever I want. So I just pulled us through that palm tree in front of the hotel to here. I guess we could have entered through that fern again instead of jumping off the building, but where's the fun in that?" Unwrapping her gum, she popped the piece into her mouth before offering me the pack. "Blue raspberry?"
Numbly, I took the gum and stared at her. "But, how is that possible?" Okay yeah, my asking that was pretty dumb considering everything I've seen already. Strangely, seeing the impossible repeatedly does not make you immune to believing something is impossible.
Often's lip twitched in a slight smirk before she gestured with one arm. "How is anything you do possible? ****, girl, compared to you I'm Joe Average." Leaning back against the tree then, she continued. "But fine, I guess I could explain. I'm a nymph, a dryad specifically." At my look, she rolled her eyes. "Oh, what? You'll believe you and some old hag are two of the Fates, but a super powered tree hugger is too much?"
She had a point, and she had just sort of rescued me. Which reminded me. "I have to go back. If I don't go with them, my parents are dead."
"If you do go back, a lot more people are going to die, babe." Often shook her head and cracked her knuckles. "And that **** will kill whoever she wants to, whether you're there or not. If you went there, she'd tell you to do something really bad. When you refused, she'd threaten your parents again. At least this way she has to find you before she can threaten them. She won't kill them for no gain, Macbeth. She needs to hold them over you."
That made me consider. "Okay, I guess so. As long as she can't threaten me, she can't carry out the threat." There was some kind of backwards logic there, but it sounded good enough. Besides, the girl was right. Even if I was there, I wouldn't be able to stop Maisie from doing whatever she wanted to. And if she tried to make me do something terrible, I'd have to choose between doing that and letting my parents die. This at least delayed that choice and gave me a chance to come up with a third option.
"Exactly." Often pointed across the street. "Come on, let's grab some tacos. I'm gonna pass out from hunger in a minute." Whistling, the mythical dryad punk girl began to walk with baffling casualness. I have said many times that my life is strange to epic proportions. This day was tipping even that scale.
For lack of any better ideas, and an obvious curiosity, I followed my apparent ally. "So, I thought dryads were supposed to be spiritual and, like, dancing in the trees with satyrs."
Often shot me a scornful look over her shoulder. "And I thought human beings were running around in loin cloths making animal noises. Oh wait, that changed too." At the door into the Taco Bell, she paused and added. "Things evolve, babe. Not everyone is stuck in the history books."
Following her inside, I nodded slightly. The insanity of things that I was willing to accept was approaching some kind of critical mass. "Okay, but why did you bail me out of there? Not that I'm not grateful, but how'd you know I was even there?"
We made our way to the counter, and the girl remained silent on the subject while she ordered several platters worth of food. After slipping the old woman at the register a couple wrinkled bills, she picked up two of the trays and started toward a table in the back. "Grab that one and come on."
I took the other tray and followed her to the back. After we sat down, she grabbed a burrito and started to unwrap it. "Dig in, before it's all gone. So, you wanted to know how I knew where you were and why I pulled you out?" The girl took a large bite and chewed thoughtfully for a moment before answering. "I knew where you were because I've been looking for you. I saw that old bat and her psycho offspring pick you up at the park. I rescued you because, well, I don't feel like letting Satan's dirty old grandmother talk you into doing whatever she had planned."
"Well, thanks for that." I quickly opened a taco and started to devour it. "And for this. You're like a fairy godsister or something. You could have warned me about that jump though."
She laughed. "And miss the look on your face? You totally thought you were about to splatter." Winking, the girl pried the lid off of the nachos. "It's cool though. I couldn't do the stuff you do."
Pausing as I unwrapped a second taco, I shook my head. "How do you know what I do? I mean, the last time I checked I didn't give any kind of interview or anything."
"Oh please." Often waved her hand with a cheese drenched chip. "Nymphs are the original gossip line. As soon as you started your hero schtic, the rumors and news were flying across the country. You've got a fan club. And well, more enemies than you know."
"Great." I leaned on my elbow. "Because the enemies I do know about aren't enough of a problem."
The girl munched her nachos for a moment before shrugging. "Like I said, you've got a fan club too. There's people who appreciate what you do. And some of us want to help. I heard you were in Miami and thought I'd look you up. Besides, as soon as I found out that old bint was around, I knew she was looking for you."
I watched in brief silence as Often pushed the now empty tray away and started in on the second. She was putting food away as fast as she could unwrap it. Slightly awed, I finished my second taco. "Well, I'm glad you were around. But I'm still not sure what I should do about all this." I hesitated, and then asked. "She was right then? I'm supposed to be this... Merai?"
After taking a long sip of her soda, Often corrected me. "Moirai. And yeah, as far as anyone knows anyway. Kind of a lot to take in, huh?"
"You're telling me." I started to eat a chalupa then while considering my next options. "I still need to do something before a bus gets blown up, and now there's Maisie and her spawn to deal with. Too bad life isn't like grammar. Then I could let two negatives cancel each other out and I'd be good to go."
Grinning at that, the other girl nodded quickly. "That'd be sweet. But, what was that about a bus?" She was quiet while I explained what I'd seen, then she flinched. "Damn, that's a bummer. But you've got that cop guy working on it? You gonna give him a little..." She moved in her seat a little with her arms up, a grinding motion. "... bump and hump to celebrate if you pull it off?"
I swear my face could not possibly have gone a deeper shade of red. "He's like twice my age, Often!" I hissed at her with a reflexive glance around. Yeah, I've got strange ideas of confidentiality. I can talk about dryads and seeing the future in plain view of anyone, but as soon as sex gets put on the table I've got to make sure we're alone.
The nymph's gentle laughter at my reaction was musical. "So? At least you know he's old enough to know what he's doing. Personally I don't usually go for anyone under a hundred. It's too much work to teach them what they're doing wrong."
"Wait." I siezed onto the slight change of subject like a life preserver. "Under a hundred? So you're not really a teenager."
The girl giggled once more. "I'm two hundred and ten. But I look pretty good for my age, huh?" She winked and flashed her quick smile. "Dryads live a long time. By human standards, I'm about your age." Stirring the straw through her soda briefly, she asked. "So really, what are you going to do right now?"
I leaned back in my seat to consider, and glanced up toward the register at the sound of someone arguing with the clerk up there. Then I froze and stared before pushing myself up. "I'm going to find a phone and call Tavelli."
Often was beside me then, clapping me on the back. "That's the spirit! You ride that mature stallion like..." She trailed off at my dirty look. "What?"
I nodded to the front. "See that?"
She followed my line of sight and shrugged. "Some crazy chick ****ing about her order. So?"
My feet were already carrying me to the door where I had seen a payphone. "That chick is a lot more crazy than you know. That's the woman that's going to blow up the bus. She's here."
Unfortunately, we never made it to the door. Before we were halfway there, a sudden gunshot rang out through the store. The sound made me jerk back, nearly crashing into my companion. At the front, our good old fashioned mortal crazy woman held a gun high the air. She was looking directly at both of us, even as one of the employees screamed. With a glint of obvious insanity, the boyfriend killer shouted. "All of you sit the hell down and shut up! I'm in charge now!"
I stood still and slowly glanced sideways toward my companion. She eyed me back and gave a slight shrug. "Well," She offered. "At least you found her."
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Whoa. Another amazing chapter! And an awesome happy birthday to you update. Nice.
By the way, Often? Yeah, she's pretty much my hero.
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I agree, Often is awesome. I love how you make all of the characters so different, but so real.
Happy birthday! :)
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Another amazing chapter! The new character is really cool too, I like the way she interacts with Macbeth, lol.
Oh, and :happybirthday:
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"Do you come here Often?"
Sorry, I couldn't resist.
Anyway, great chapter, as usual! Love the new character. Poor Macbeth has a lot to swallow in just one night, doesn't she?
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Thanks guys, I'm glad you like the new character. I had a lot of fun introducing her.
Also, since I don't think I ever mentioned, I thought I'd point out a tiny easter egg in the name of our villain. Maisie MacFarquhar. http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0532239/ Take a look at the first item on the list. ;)
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haha that's cool. I've never seen that movie, but I've read the play, really enjoyed it!
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Chapter Ten
"Blood will have blood." - Macbeth, Act III, Scene IV
From the corner of my mouth, I whispered the obvious question. "Got any magic faerie powers that might help?" I figured it was worth a shot, since my own powers wouldn't help except to tell us the vaguely obvious fact that people were close to dying. Seeing the future is sort of like being a meteorologist. Sometimes you nail the sunny day blizzard that no one else saw coming. And other times you're the only one in the monsoon without an umbrella, wondering what the hell just happened.
Often rolled her eyes back at me and retorted. "I'm a dryad, not a faerie." She said the last word with all kinds of aggrivation. "Do you see wings? Do you see multicolored dust falling out of my ass? Tell you what babe, when you go live with the baboons, because your species are so closely related, I'll do something about getting faerie magic."
"You know," I remarked. "You could have just said no. I'm supposed to be the cute, sarcastic one. It's my niche."
"Why thank you." Often flashed me her bright, sunny smile. "I am cute, aren't I?" She seemed to preen briefly.
"You're adorable." I said dryly. "But I'm still funnier than you."
She huffed. "You are not."
"Are so." I turned slightly to stick my tongue out at her and told her that she could take that to the bank. Or rather. "Ahn ooh cah ake ah ooh eh ahk." Not very dignified, no. But I was tired. And besides, you can only spend so much time doing what I do without going insane before dignity takes a far backseat behind having fun.
Often met my gaze solidly until I puffed my cheeks and crossed my eyes. Then she lost it and coughed. "Okay, fine. You win at funny and fail at English, Miss 'I are so'."
I paused to consider that, and then nodded. "That's fair."
"Hey!" The shout, furious and violent, interrupted us. I had the feeling that Emily Elsicon, our friend with the pistol and apparent hair-trigger temper, had been trying to get our attention for the past few moments. She waved the gun in our faces. "Are you going to do what I tell you to or are you going to keep babbling like a couple of idiots?" Emily was about four inches taller than Often, which meant she was a towering nine inches higher than me. Her hair was brown and lanky. She was in her mid twenties, and I could see that she would have been pretty in most circumstances, if she wasn't sneering angrily.
I glanced to my companion as though to get her input on the issue. The dryad seemed to consider the armed woman and raised her hand as though to ask a question. "Are you protesting the shocking lack of dignified coverage of the Taco Bell Chihuahua's funeral? Because if so, I am all over that like bad pants on a golfer, sister. Fight the power." She held up her fist.
Her reward for this was a vicious smack across the face by the back of the pistol as Emily sneered. The blow knocked Often backwards and I had to move quickly to catch onto her. The woman glared at both of us and held the gun straight out. "You got any more smart ass comments? Shut the hell up and let me talk to Macbeth."
My attention, which had been on making sure that the other girl was okay, snapped back around at the mention of my name. The obvious surprise on my face made Emily smirk. "That's right, I know exactly who you are. The little old lady told me about you. I saw her pick you up in the park, so I figured you'd show up around here again sooner or later. All I had to do was be patient."
From the corner of my eye, I saw a man slowly inching his way toward the exit door. I must have failed my poker face, because Emily whipped around and pointed the gun at the man, squeezing off a shot that blew a hole through the glass door and made several people scream. She glared at the frozen man and stalked that way. "Hey! I didn't say you could ****ing leave!"
Often gave me a look, grunting slightly in pain as she touched her fingers to her bruised temple. "Dude, does everyone know who you are now?"
I sighed and shrugged helplessly. "I guess so. I either need to fire my publicist or give them a raise. I haven't figured out which. You knowing about me helped. Her, probably not so much." I watched as Emily forced the man at gun point back into the huddled group by one of the tables. In all, there were twelve people in the building besides the three of us. It looked like four employees, a manager, a couple of college guys, and a family of five with three kids. The youngest, a girl of about seven, gave me a worried smile from underneath her mother's covering arm.
"You could get your publicist a trophy, and then bash him upside the head with it. You know, even it out." Often remarked, and then shook her head with a wince. "Check that, no bashing in the head. I remember how much it hurts now."
I started to ask if she was all right, but Emily stalked back over to us, gun in hand and waving randomly. "All right, blondie. Get over there and lock those doors." She threw me a set of keys that she must have taken off of the manager.
After I had locked the doors, I returned the keys to the gun-toting boyfriend killer and asked. "What did the old lady tell you?"
She rewarded me with a sneer. "The old **** told me everything." I kind of doubted that, but I let her continue. Far be it from me to tell the armed psychopath that she doesn't have all the information. "I know all about your supposed superpowers. And I want to see them."
I kept my face as blank as possible, even managing a confused laugh. "Superpowers? Sorry, umm, if you're expecting me to fly or something, we're going to be here for awhile."
The woman wasn't buying it. Maisie had apparently briefed her well. I wanted to know why she had found this girl and when. Was it after she had killed her boyfriend, or before? Had Maisie set this entire thing in motion, or just taken advantage of my newest problem? Emily kept staring at me. "I want to see your powers, and we don't have a lot of time before the cops show up."
That was pretty much what I had been counting on, but I didn't have to let her know that. "Guess you better skidaddle then, because I don't have any--" My denial was cut off as Emily turned slightly, and extended the pistol. I saw the aura spring up around her victim and what she was about to do and my eyes widened in horror as I tried to throw myself at her, at the gun, in front of it, anything to stop the weapons trajectory.
It made no difference, because for all my vaunted abilities and specialness, I am not faster than a bullet. The sound of the gun roared through the room once more. This time the target was not glass, because this shot was not fired in warning. My outstretched arms were impotently short of stopping the bullet, which hit the youngest hostage, the seven year old girl, directly in her lower right side. The child screamed, and blood instantly began to flood the floor. Too much blood for a child to lose and survive.
Most people know what a Banshee is. Few know that the legend of the banshee originally began as a woman who would scream and wail when an important person died. Their howls are supposed to be capable of chilling bones to brittle ice and driving souls straight from the flesh to the grave. I have never seen or heard such a creature. But if I ever do, I do not believe that its wail will begin to touch the force of the scream that erupted from the mother of the child who had just been hit. Her fury was that of a hellspawned demon, and she was on her feet ready to launch herself at this animal who had hurt her child within seconds.
Emily couldn't help but take a reflexive step back from the woman. But the gun gave her confidence and she shouted. "Sit down! Sit the **** down if you want your brat to survive!" The husband, the child's father, was trying to hold the little girl in his arms. His fury and his choking grief was an equal of his wife's, but he couldn't put the girl down. He held her tightly, tears streaming down his bearded face as he screamed for his wife to look, to see their girl. The other two children were sobbing as well, while the rest of the people looked on in horror.
I truly believe that the mother of this injured and dying girl would have waded through any hail of bullets that her daughter's attacker tried to throw at her. She might have died, might have been cut down. But she would have gotten to the **** who hurt her little girl first, and would have died with the certain knowledge that there would be one more person ahead of her in the line for whatever judgment comes after this life. No mere gun would stop the fury of this woman. But the voice of her husband, and the weak and plaintive pleas from the girl who was growing weaker by the second in his arms, brought her to her knees before them to wrap her arms around her little girl and the man who held the tiny, shivering form.
My moment of shock passed and I moved straight at this woman, who while less powerful than Maisie, was obviously just as capable of outright evil. She had shot a helpless child. I had to stop her before she could hurt anyone else. But before I could reach the woman, the abyss of that pistol barrel was staring at me once more. Emily smiled as I came up short. "That's what I thought. Now, where was I?" She acted briefly like she had to think about it, then snapped her fingers. "Oh yeah, your powers." With her free hand, the woman pointed to the suffering girl. "I want to see them. Heal the girl. Fix her."
I do not perform my miracles in front of witnesses. As I have said, I work in secret. I've learned since the first time, when Tavelli saw what I could do. If people saw what I could do, if my secret was out, my life would be over. I would be able to go nowhere without being mobbed by the thousands who would want me to help them. And that's only the people with good intentions, to say nothing of those who would find a way to twist a good thing into something bad. My anonymity helps me to do what I need to do almost as much as the actual powers do. If what I was, and what I did, became known to those who didn't understand it, I would never be able to help people in the same way again.
And yet, was I capable of letting a child die simply to protect my secret? I could see the family, gathered around the girl, who was nearly gone now. A simple trip to dinner, perhaps a treat for finished chores, had become a nightmare.
My heart twisted as I saw the man lift his gaze away from his weak and passing daughter, so fragile and broken in his arms, to look at me. His little girl was literally dying in his arms, her blood soaking his shirt while her tears stained his soul. He was her father. He was her protector. But he could do nothing now but hold the most precious of all gifts, his child, as she suffered. This was a man who had absolutely no factual reason to believe that I could do anything at all. And yet, as he looked at me, I saw a man who was willing to believe in anything that would save his daughter. His eyes met mine and he spoke a single word that said more than a hundred other people in a hundred hours could have. With a broken and uncertain voice, the man said. "Please."
I realized then, in that moment, that the line in the sand was drawn. The future versus the present. Potential versus immediate. I had the attention and knowledge of a dozen witnesses. The lives of dozens if not hundreds of future victims that I might be unable to help weighed against the single life of one little girl. And I realized, in that same moment, that all we really have is now. Life isn't about what you might do later. It's about what you're doing right now.
The future is shaped by the present. What we do now defines what we will do later. And if I was capable of letting an innocent girl die, when I could help her, for any reason, then those people in the future didn't stand a chance anyway. I will announce myself to the world with bells and trumpets before I will ever refuse to save an innocent life. Praise me or hang me. Love me or revile me. The world can draw its own line wherever it wishes. Because I have mine. I will save the present, in the god willing hope that I will have the strength and skill to save the future, come what may.
I knelt beside the mother and gently put a hand on her shoulder. She didn't notice, intent on her baby girl. The other children, both boys, looked up as I softly spoke. "Let me help." I repeated myself and the mother looked to me angrily. In her confusion and grief, she might have clawed at me, attacked me to keep me away from her broken child. But the father spoke her name softly. The woman's arm lowered and I put my hand out, laying it on the spot of the young child's injury.
There had to be more blood outside of this poor, shattered girl than inside her small frame. She was pale and cold, and in seconds, I knew that I would be too late. I didn't need the blue aura to tell me that she was close to death. Her fate would pass on from me, and would be forever out of reach. But that would not happen. Even if these people shouted from the rooftops, even if my miracle was recorded on camera and played for the masses, I would not let this happen. Even if it meant that I would never be able to work the way that I have again, I would not let this girl die.
I felt the warmth as it began in the pit of my stomach, rising through me to my arms, and down to the hands that I held tightly pressed against the child's body. My skin tingled slightly as the heat rose. Some power that I doubt I will ever truly understand was coaxed, stoked like the embers of a fire into a roaring flame. I felt the onlookers flinch away when the room grew hot as I burned with the power within me.
Then it was done. I released the girl and sat back slowly. The child whose blood littered this floor, whose soul had been next on Saint Peter's waiting list, opened her eyes. Seconds before, that would have been her last, dying attempt to see her parents one final time. Now, when her eyes opened, they stayed open. She spoke quietly at first, then with more strength and certainty. "Mom? Dad. Mommy... Daddy. Mom!" Questing fingers, her own and her astonished parents and brothers, found no wound whatsoever past her bloody shirt. Her skin was whole, her body healed. Tears of absolute wonder and joy filled their eyes as they embraced.
They tried to hug me too, tried to kiss me and beg me to tell them what they could do for me. But I was already rising, facing the woman who had put them in this situation, who had nearly killed their daughter. I felt the overwhelmed stares of the other hostages on me, and heard their whispers.
Emily stood in quiet contemplation, smiling curiously. "That was interesting." She said in the voice of a scientist who wants to run rats through a poison maze. "I wonder if you can heal two at once. We've got plenty of test subjects, don't we?" She carefully began to choose her next targets, her next so called tests. She wanted to gradually pick these people off, shooting them and making me heal them, just to see what would happen and what I was capable of.
When it came to what I was capable of, she was about to find out. As her gun swept over the group, picking out her next victims, I completely lost it. In a single day, I had been put through so much, had been forced to accept more than was possible. People were trying to use me, and were threatening everyone I knew to make me into what they wanted me to be. I was sore and tired beyond the telling. But right then, in that second, all I felt, was anger. I came up off the floor while screaming with inarticulate rage.
I wish that I could say that I purposefully timed my attack for when the gun was pointed the furthest away from me, but all I can blame that on is absolute dumb luck. I would have made my move in that moment, when the violence erupted within me, even if the witch had been pointing her weapon directly at me with her finger on the trigger. In those few seconds, I was incapable of thinking rationally.
The woman's eyes widened dramatically, a slightly satisfying feeling, just before I crashed into her. She tried to bring the gun around but my hand was on her wrist, holding it away as we both slammed into the counter. Emily managed to twist slightly at the last moment so that I took some of the blow as well. But I didn't notice. The pain was a distant feeling. The gun went off once, firing harmlessly into the wall. She screamed obscenities, viciously trying to force the pistol back at me. It went off again, forcing Often, who had been coming to help, to back off briefly. The witch tried to claw at my eyes with her free hand and I turned my head away.
She was larger and stronger than I was. But I was motivated. I brought my foot up and kicked her as hard as I could in the side of the knee. She howled but kept forcing the gun inch by inch closer to me. I kicked her again and her grip loosened. Immediately I twisted the gun out of her grip and ripped it away from her.
We were both breathing hard as I jerked backwards and brought the gun up to face her. For a moment, I could barely keep the barrel pointed the right way. I panted and we circled each other slightly. I could see the smile tug at her lips as she watched the barrel dance and wobble. I was so tired that I had to hold it with both hands just to keep it raised.
"What are you going to do with that?" Her voice was silk. "Are you going to lower yourself to my level? Are you going to shoot me, little healer girl? Are you going to get your hands dirty and play judge, jury, and executioner?"
I kept my gaze on her, breathing deeply as I gulped in air. Finally, I let the gun drop and tossed it aside, away from both of us. "No, I'm not like you."
The woman's eyes brighten in malicious glee, and she laughs. "You're an idiot. You're a stupid little child. You don't know how the world works. If you have the advantage, you use it. You had me. You had me and you threw the gun away." She shook her head in amazement.
Still panting, I raised my hand to correct her. "Um. Slight grammatical error. It's minor but very important." As she blinked in confusion, I managed to smile. "Not so much 'away' as 'to'." I could see her confusion turn to dawning comprehension, and she spun on her heel.
But it was too late, and Often whacked her with a vicious crack across the temple with the side of the gun that I had thrown to her. As Emily let out a startled cry and fell unconscious to the floor, my new friend shouted. "There, you see?! Hurts, doesn't it, you little ****!"
I was almost out on my feet by then, and it took me a moment to realize that the ringing in my ears was actually fast approaching sirens. I looked quickly to the family, still crying over their little girl, but now in joy rather than grief. The other hostages still stared at me in wonder, and I knew it was time to leave. "Often, we need to go. Let the police take care of her."
The dryad looked to me, and then nodded. "Sure, babe. You look like you're about dead. Come on, I've got a place you can rest." She put out her hand to support me, and we retreated just as the police soared into the lot.
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I checked in with Tavelli at Often's apartment, which was a lot sleeker and modern looking than I would have expected from a forest spirit or whatever she was. But then, a lot of my assumptions were being shattered recently. After he assured me that Emily had been taken into custody, I passed out on the couch. It wasn't all that late, but I felt like I had been up and running for days. Within seconds of laying down, I was asleep. The couch was comfortable, and I was completely out of it for upwards of ten hours.
The sun had barely risen the next day when Often's phone rang nearby where I had dropped it after hanging up the night before. Without thinking, I groped for it blindly and mumbled something incoherant at the reciever. It rang again, the sound startling me a little more awake. I managed to press the accept call button and turned over, muttering. "Hello?"
It was Tavelli's voice. "You better get up and get down here. She's about to walk out."
That brought me awake. I sat up. "What? What are you talking about?"
He sounded both bitter and tired. "She lawyered up. No one died, no one was even really hurt. So she's getting out on bail until her court date. I don't know who this lawyer is she pulled out of her ass, but he got some judge to wake up and set bail earlier this morning.
I was on my feet, shaking my head in confusion. "I don't get it. How the hell could she get off?"
"She's not off." Tavelli corrected me. "She just doesn't have to wait in jail until her trial. Like I said, her hot shot lawyer got her out. I've never even heard of him. Some out of state piece of **** named Craig Baston."
I stopped pacing. For a moment, I stopped breathing. "What did you say?" As I stood still and silent, I saw Often in the doorway of her bedroom, wearing fuzzy blue pajamas, looking at me quizzically.
He repeated himself. "I said Craig Baston got her out. Why?"
I was not a stupid person. I am capable of putting facts together. Meeting Often's gaze, I spoke to both of them. "Craig Baston is my brother. He got her out of prison." I spoke to the girl across to me, giving voice to the only explanation that made sense considering not only the odds of Emily Elsicon just happening to have my brother, who didn't even live here as her lawyer, but also the odds of Maisie just happening to know that I had gone to Boston two years earlier.
"My brother is working with Maisie."
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Haha, I like how Macbeth and Often have a little casual conversation while there's a crazy lady with a gun. Nice.
Man oh man, I can't wait for the next chapter! What's going to happen now that Macbeth has been exposed? Was that part of Maisie's evil scheme? It makes sense, after all. Maisie's whole plan was to have Macbeth get captured by whoever captured her, so she probably told Emily what Macbeth could do in hopes that Emily would expose her. Man, what a *****
Sorry, I'm rambling. Anyway, great chapter! +1
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*gears up* Nuuuuuuuuuuu! Why, Craig, why...
Cerulean, you're a bit too good at this writing business :P I read 2 whole chapters on my phone screen cuz they were so interesting that I couldn't stop/walk 3 feet to my laptop yesterday :o
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:O Her own brother?
Awesome work as always Cerulean, you're far too good with the cliffhangers, lol.
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ZOMG
Holy crapness that's so fecking amazing. GERARGH!!!
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ohhhh Craig what's wrong with you?! I hope he's been blackmailed or something!
Another fantastic chapter, Often is awesome :)
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Whooo, new chapter! Sorry for the delay, guys.
Chapter Eleven
"Present fears Are less than horrible imaginings." - Macbeth, Act I, Scene III
"Bagel bagel bagel bagel. Bageluh. Buhaaayguluh." Noticing me staring at her in the middle of her chanting, Often stopped and turned her head. "What? It's a fun word. Baaaay guuuulll." She stretched out the word and then giggled before spreading strawberry cream cheese over her particular word of the day. We were sitting in an out door cafe, waiting for Tavelli to show up.
"Oh yeah, it's a great word." I sat back and eyed the crumbs that were all that were left of the rest of what she had ordered. "You know, when you order a dozen bagels, I'm fairly sure they expect you to take some of them home with you."
Often scoffed at this idea. "That's just silly. If I took it home, what would I eat here?" She eagerly took a large bite of the bagel that she had just finished slathering, smiling in satisfaction. "So, are you going to call him?"
I started to shake my head. "He'll be here soon enough." She looked at me and I got it. "Oh." I winced. "You mean Craig." Letting out a long sigh, I flicked a couple crumbs away absently. "Why? What would I say? 'Hey, Craig, why are you working with the manifestation of universal evil?'"
"True." The other girl smiled. "That might be reaching a little bit at first. Maybe you should start with why didn't you get me a birthday present and work your way up." She sobered then. "Seriously, Mac, you've got to talk to him. If you'd like, I could put him in a coma and then you could chat without being interrupted."
"As tempting as that is." I replied dryly. "I don't think it would get me a lot of answers." I reached out and picked up the cup of heavily sugared coffee, draining the last of it. Often had insisted on hot chocolate for herself, which she had occasionally dipped a piece of bagel into.
She scoffed at that comment. "Babe, let me tell you the most important piece of philosophy that I've picked up in two hundred years." She paused before laying this pearl of wisdom of the ages on me. "Sometimes, you've just got to smack a ****."
I laughed, I couldn't help it. "Therapeutic as that may be, I don't even know where Craig is or what number he has or anything."
After considering for a moment, my companion offered. "Try looking in the phonebook under douchebag? Or Arnold comma Bennedict? Ass comma Jack?" Finishing the last of her final bagel, she pushed a hand back over her spiky pink hair in frustration. "Where is this cop buddy of yours anyway?"
"He might actually be listed under that last one. I think he gets called that more than his name." Straightening up, I pointed. "There he is. Tavelli, I mean." The man was walking between the tables toward us, wearing dark sunglasses and a distinctly annoyed expression.
"Your brother's a piece of work." Tavelli announced once he reached the table. He looked both frustrated and tired, with worry lines bunched up on his forehead.
"G'morning to you too." Often replied as she finished carefully wiping her hands on a napkin. "You must be the cop." She eyed him a little critically. "Are you any good?"
"Am I any--" The man cut himself off and cast his look over to me to ask. "Who exactly is this, again?"
Often scoffed at that before standing up. "If you were any good, you'd already know who I was. You could use your spy satellites from the secret headquarters, analyze my retina, and compare it to your international database." By the end of this, she had dumped the trash in the nearby can and stood with her arms folded while darting her eyes around expectantly, as though she could spot back-up agents diving behind bushes.
"I'm a cop." Tavelli replied with a raised eyebrow. "Not James Bond. I'm barely allowed to requisition my own car, let alone a satellite. I'm lucky if I an get my gps to work."
He continued to look at me expectantly until I waved a hand. "This is Often. She's a friend." If she wasn't going to bring up the whole dryad thing, then neither would I. "What happened with Craig?"
Tavelli looked like he wanted to ask more about where Often had come from or what her connection to this was, but he let it go. "Your brother managed to talk a judge into letting that **** out onto the streets again. She's supposed to be back in court next week, but somehow I don't think she'll show."
The tables nearby were empty, but I still didn't feel exactly comfortable talking about this sort of thing out in the open. I lowered my voice. "Even if she did, she's going to use those explosives long before next week. She's lost it, and she knows I--I mean we're after her. Whatever she wants, she's going to go after it as soon as she can. She'd be crazy to wait, which I admit in her case makes it more likely, but I still think she's going for it."
Letting out a long sigh as he cracked the knuckles in his left hand, Tavelli slowly nodded. "You're probably right. Unfortunately, unless you have some way to magically find her, I don't know what we can do about it." He paused in thought, then began slowly. "She didn't learn to build a bomb from watching the home cooking network. That had to come from somewhere."
"Yeah." Often agreed. "Like maybe the internet. You can learn to build anything, even a bomb."
"True." Tavelli agreed. "But doing it and not blowing yourself up, with only a couple days notice, that's another thing." He waved a hand before he could be interrupted. "I know, she could have been planning this for a long time, but I just, something about this tells me that she 's flying by the seat of her pants. Whatever happened to push her this way, it wasn't that long ago. Everything I've read about this girl says she was normal up until she sliced and diced her boyfriend."
"Okay." I started with a frown. "So we need to know what happened to her. Maybe if we know what happened to her, we can figure out what she's going to do, and who she's going to do it to."
Often grinned. "I love this, it's like watching actual cops." At Tavelli's look, she amended. "Oh right, you are one. Sorry, my memory isn't my fault. I blame cheeze wiz and MTV." After a moment, she added. "Also, prohibition and Woodstock." She grinned at his confusion.
Clearing his throat pointedly, Tavelli looked at me. "There's no one at her apartment now. I already looked at it, but maybe you can find something." He checked his watch. "I have to be back at the station in a few minutes."
"Oh yeah." Often looked doubtful. "Because she's really going to be stupid enough to hang around her apartment when she knows someone's after her."
I agreed that it was doubtful, but I had the feeling he was sending me there just because he was so certain Emily would never show up there. But he was right, there was a chance I might be able to find something. So I nodded. "Maybe there'll still be something there. I'll call you if we find anything."
"And if we don't," Often started. "We'll call a real cop. Someone with satellite privileges." Nodding firmly, she started to walk away, stopping to snag a few extra packets of sugar from another table, which she tore open and poured down her throat.
Tavelli looked at me and I raised a hand to ward him off. "Don't ask. But she's a new friend. Trust me, she's cool. Do you have Emily's address?"
He nodded slowly, with some relunctance, as though he was rethinking this whole thing. But he handed the paper with the woman's address to me anyway. "Just be careful. Call me if absolutely anything happens. I shouldn't even know that you're going to go in there, but I couldn't even begin to explain these circumstances to anyone. But if you get caught."
"I know." I said. "You never heard of us."
That made him raise his sunglasses and roll his eyes. "No. If you get caught by the good guys, have them call me. I'll see what I can do. Just try not to get caught."
I smiled and leaned up, briefly pecking his cheek absently. "Hey. You're the one who ends up handcuffed in the back of a van, if you recall. You be careful."
A moment later I caught up with Often, who stood there grinning at me. "D'awww, that was sweet. You gave him a kiss. Do you like him?"
That snapped my head around to her. If I'd been drinking anything, she would have been sprayed with it. Far too many good spit-takes have been wasted this way. "Wh-what?! Do I what? Oh no. No."
Her smile grew more teasing. "Are you sure? You did give him a kiss."
"On his cheek!" I protested, waving both hands like a crazy person. "I kissed him on the cheek! I kiss my grandmother like that."
"Okay, sure." The other girl started to agree. "But your grandmother doesn't check out your butt when you walk away."
That made me spin around so fast to look behind us that I nearly fell over. I did end up tripping over a crack in the sidewalk and fell into Often, who was laughing while she straightened me. "You jerk." I elbowed her. "He was not. Come on, he's like my father's age!"
"So?" My companion asked with a blank look. "I'm like, your great-great-great-great-grandfather's age and I'd still hit that. If the plumbing still works, quit ****ing about what year the pipes were installed."
"Wait, you're..." I started to ask, then stopped, feeling awkward for a moment. Yeah, I could practically throw myself at bullets day in and day out, but I got flustered when it came to someone's orientation.
"Babe." She smiled with absolute confidence. "After a certain number of years, you stop worrying about semantics." For once, Often looked completely serious. "This is a really big world, Mac, and there's a lot of really bad people in it. If you find something really good, you have to grab it and hold onto it as tight as you can. You have to fight for it. So if you find someone who makes you happy, you don't let them go. No matter who, or what they are, you fight for them. And damn whoever can't accept that."
Seeming to feel that she'd become too serious there, the girl gave a light hearted shrug. "Besides, why go through the carnival of life if you're going to ignore half the rides?"
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About half an hour later, the two of us were walking into the courtyard of the apartment building where Miss Emily Elsicon had her place of residence. It was a dumpy little place far from any of the beaches that Miami is so known for. There was one tired little palm tree surrounded by brown grass in the court yard that looked almost as desperate to get out of there as the few worn down people we passed.
Wincing as she looked over her shoulder at the old tree, Often held up her hand. "You uhhh, you go ahead. I'm going to do something about that." She started to walk that way, and I stood there briefly while she sat down and started to quietly talk to it. Around her, on the ground, the dried up and dead grass slowly but noticeably turned green. No one else seemed to notice this private miracle.
Often turned back to give me an encouraging wave. I guessed that, as a nature spirit, or whatever she was exactly, she couldn't just ignore a suffering tree. So, nodding to her, I continued on, glancing at the paper that had the address on it until I found the right place.
The door wasn't criss crossed with police tape. I guessed because no crime had actually been committed there. It wasn't until that point that I wondered if Tavelli had put any thought to how I was going to get in. Maybe he purposefully didn't think about it.
Two years ago, the locked door would have stumped me. Today, I just stepped closer to the door and produced a small item from my pocket. Almost a year earlier, a grateful biker had given this bump key to me and explained how to use it. It hadn't failed yet.
An ordinary key works by having the ridges set just so that the pins within the lock are lined up along a shear line. Once they're lined up, the lock can turn. A bump key is a key that has most of the teeth filed down. It works by inserting the key most of the way into the lock and then hitting the end of it. The jarring force will, in most cases knock the pins up into place for a brief moment. If you're pushing on the key at the right time, you can open the lock in that slight opportunity. It takes a bit of practice but it's a little frightening how easy it is once you have the right idea.
It took me a couple tries, and two different bump keys to find one that fit well enough, but a minute later I was inside the apartment. It looked nicer on the inside than the building it was in would have let me believe. It wasn't perfect by any means, but it was cozy and looked decent for the neighborhood.
I was standing in an entryway. To my left there was a small kitchen. Straight ahead I could see a door that looked like it led to a bathroom. The open area to the right was obviously meant to be a small living room, and I could see a doorway at the far end of the living area that was most likely the bedroom.
Slowly, I stepped into the living room and began to look around. I wasn't sure what I hoped to find, because in my experience, most psychopaths don't leave journals around detailing their change from ordinary person into mass murdering nut jobs. It's inconvenient, let me tell you.
I turned to the kitchen and checked the front of the fridge. For what, I couldn't tell you. It wasn't like I was going to find a sticky note that said 'Self, the voices started again. Time to blow **** up.' along with a list of targets.
However, what I did find was a note with the name of the hotel that Maisie and her son had taken me to, along with a phone number. The note looked like it had been there for a few days. Which meant that, unless I wanted to believe in coincidences, Maisie had been in contact with Emily since before I'd arrived in town. What the hell did that mean?
A voice from behind me interrupted my thoughts. At some point I'm going to learn not to turn my back to anything in strange places. I'll just walk through life, continually rotating in circles. The voice said. "Now, are you really supposed to be in here?"
I turned, but I already knew who the voice belonged to. I expected the man, but what he held was a surprise. "Hey, Craig." I began. "Is that a gun in your hand, or are you just happy to see me?"
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Damn. You're good at that whole 'twist the ending so that people will go through withdrawal when I don't post for a month'
LOVED the new update. I'm so excited to see what happens with Emily.
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I knew Mac shouldn't have gone in by herself!!! Hopefully Often will kick butt. 8)
thank you for updating! :D
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Great, great, great new chapter. Often's lines are infectious!
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Another great chapter! Often has added an extra element of inappropriate humour combined with the wisdom of old age which I find highly entertaining.
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Hey hey hey, it wasn't a month this time, at least. ;) I'm glad everyone likes Often. She doesn't have a very big part in this chapter, but obviously there's a reason for that. And I hope you like it anyway. Here goes!
Chapter Twelve
"When our actions do not, our fears do make us traitors." - Lady Macduff, Act IV, Scene I
Maybe I should have been surprised to see my brother at Emily's house. But the truth was, at that point there wasn't much that could possibly have shocked me. It was getting to the point where I could have been made Queen of England and my only response would have been to assume they wanted me to pay for my own airfare. Actually, come to think of it, being a national ruler would be less responsibility. Let me in on that action.
I looked to the small pistol held tightly in Craig's outstretched hand, then back up to his face. His mouth was tight, and he looked tired. I'd make a note of telling him he should get more sleep, assuming he didn't shoot me. If he did shoot me, screw his exhaustion. "Craig." I started carefully, since he hadn't responded yet. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here?" Craig repeated the question and tapped the pistol against his chest briefly. Craig isn't a big guy. He's about five foot eight with premature baldness just starting to creep up on him as he edged nearer to thirty. All through childhood, he'd been a skinny little boy, but in the past few years he'd started packing a little bit of extra weight in the front. He used to wear contacts, but around the time he went to law school, he switched to glasses. I guess he thought they made him look more distinguished or thoughtful. Now he was squinting at me through them. "I'm here because you're here." He thrust the pistol toward me to emphasize his words. "I'm here because of you! Because you think you can do anything you want and no one's going to say a damn thing!"
Buhwha? Wait a minute, what? I was right with him up until that last comment and then he completely lost me. He was the lawyer. I was the drop-out. We kind of all knew who won the top spot in mom and dad's picture album. "Craig--" I began to question him slowly. "What--"
"Stop it!" His shout filled the room and I was briefly worried that someone would complain or investigate. "Stop calling me that, you ****ing ****!" He crossed the room and pushed the barrel of the pistol into my cheek while his other hand grabbed for my arm. "You think I won't do it just because of your little game?! You think I won't do it because of this?!" The barrel was digging painfully into my flesh and his gaze was one of utter fury. I couldn't understand it.
Acutely aware of the gun pressed firmly against my face, I swallowed very slightly before speaking quietly. It's funny the way people shout when everyone's pointing guns but when it's one gun, and one target, you whisper. It's like you're afraid that any loud noise will make the gun go off. I don't understand all of the logic, but I was completely buying into it. Hell, given the choice I would have reverted to sign language or quite possibly carrier pigeon to communicate. My voice was as quiet and steady as I could make it given the circumstances. "Don't call you what?"
His face contorted and for a brief moment I thought he was going to pull the trigger, then his mouth twitched in disgust and he flung me away from him onto the couch with a yell. "Craig! Don't call me that like you know me! You don't know me! I know you. I know your games. I know your little tricks. I know everything so don't try to fool me! Don't ****ing talk! You stay there. You ****ing stay there!" He seemed half crazed as he took a step back.
I hit the couch and turned over, staring in confusion at my brother as he looked at me like I was some kind of monster. Like I was a freak. I spoke before I could think. "Craig--"
His move was instantaneous. He came at me and I saw a flash of the gun moving, then blinding pain as the pistol smacked me upside the head and knocked me sideways. My head was bleeding and I felt his spittle as he shouted. "Don't ****ing call me that! Don't try your god damn games! They won't work! I know what you are! I know what you're trying to do and it won't ****ing work!" He lowered his voice finally, physically trembling as he gripped my chin, obviously forcing himself to calm down enough to speak coherantly. "I know. I know it all. You can't fool me. I don't know what you want, what you hope to gain through all this." His hand was squeezing my face tight and I thought I saw a tear in one of his eyes. "I don't know why you're doing this. But I don't care. Just..." His voice trailed off slightly and the hand without the gun moved to brush through my hair as I saw a flash of pain pass through his features. "Just let her go. Let my sister go."
Just a few minutes ago, when I said nothing could surprise me anymore? I was wrong. I was completely and utterly stunned. My mouth fell open in confusion. "Wait. Wait." I tried to get a handle on what he was talking about, but nothing made sense. "What do you mean? IWhat are you saying? I am--"
His needful, almost desperate look turned angry and he shoved me backwards on the couch before jerking himself upright to point the little gun at me once more. "Don't say you're her! Don't say you're Macbeth! I know you're not! I know! Maisie told me all about your little game. She told me how you infest people, how you slither right into their bodies and take them over! I don't know how you got my sister, but it ends here! It ends now! You go do whatever you need to do but you let Macbeth go!" He was breathing wildly as the gun shook in his hand. "I already got the girl out of jail, the girl you tried to use! She's gone and you'll never find her again. So just leave Macbeth alone and get the hell out!"
Even if I had known exactly what to say at that moment, I wouldn't have been able to speak through the shock. My brother wasn't working with Maisie because he was evil, or because she paid him to do it. He wasn't being greedy or even callous. He was trying to rescue me. He thought I was infested or possessed or something. Maisie had convinced him that I wasn't myself, that I was evil. My brother was trying to save me.
After a moment of staring at me, Craig lowered the pistol slightly. "What are you doing?" His tone was one of both suspicion and confusion. I realized then that I was crying. The tears fell and I couldn't stop them. Everything that I had been through, every truth that I'd had to accept, and it was the thought that my brother was still my brother that broke me. He wasn't perfect, and we weren't exactly close growing up. He had flaws. He could be selfish, he didn't like a lot of people, and he was greedy. But he was my brother. He was still my brother.
At first I didn't trust myself to speak. The constant emotional tilt-a-whirl that had become my life had tossed me through another loop. Finally, I managed. "You're not bad." My voice choked partway through and I repeated myself. "You're not bad. You're not the bad guy." I closed my eyes and repeated it a third time silently, barely able to believe how relieved I was. "You're trying to help. You were trying to help me."
I don't know what Craig might have said to that, because the firm click of the door shutting drew both of our attentions that way. Micky the Pseudo-Janitor, cleaner of spills and spiller of blood, stood facing me with a creepy little smile. He took his hand off the knob and stepped away from the door, having shut it behind him. "Good job, Craig. Good. We're ready to go." He looked to my brother and gave him a reassuring pat on the shoulder, just an aww shucks, comrades kind of motion. It made me angry. "Pretty soon, we'll get the little **** tugged right out of little sissy and you'll be all set."
"No." I was on my feet, talking to Craig but facing Micky. "He's lying, Craig. They're both lying. I've changed, I'm changed, but it's not a bad thing. I'm me, Craig. I'm still me. I'm not evil, they're evil. They're using you." I wanted to convince my brother of what I was saying, but either way I wasn't going with them. I just needed a way out. Briefly, I wondered just how long Often was going to be busy with that tree. But I couldn't just wait for her to show up. I had to get out of this myself.
There was hesitation in Craig's expression, but he kept the gun pointed at me. "Shut up. Just shut up! You're not her! She wouldn't drop out of school. She wouldn't make mom and dad crazy by disappearing all the time. Everywhere you go, all those places you visit, people get hurt!"
Now I shouted back at him. "I'm doing my best! Yes, people get hurt. Yes, I wish I could stop it all. But I can't stop it all! I'm just one person. They get hurt, and sometimes they die and I can't stop that! I hate it! I hate this responsibility! I hate it and I love it! It's terrible and wrong and it's absolutely what I'm supposed to be doing! I didn't ask for this responsibility! I didn't ask to be the one who chooses who to save and who gets hurt! Every time someone gets hurt because I couldn't stop it, every time someone dies because I wasn't fast or strong enough, I think I was wrong. Every time I fail, I think that I'm the wrong person for this. But I'm not. I'm not the wrong person. I can fail nine times out of ten, and watch nine people die! But that one time. That one time! That time, I save a man's life. I save a life that would have died. I save someone who would have died if I didn't make the choice to be there. And that's when I know, that's how I know, no matter how often I fail. No matter how many people hate me, no matter who they turn against me, this is where I belong. I'm not a bad guy, Craig. I'm not possessed. I'm me. I do this because I choose to. Not because I'm possessed, not because of powers, not because of visions. Because it's where I choose to be. It's what I choose to do."
After I finished speaking there was a moment of silence, then Micky began to clap mockingly. "Bravo. Oh bravo. Encore! That was beautiful and so touching." He raised his chin while wiping away a mock tear, then stared straight at me dangerously. "Now shut the hell up so we can go."
Craig still looked torn, so I sighed. "I'm sorry, Craig." Then I lunged forward and brought my knee up fast into his stomach. I heard the breath explode out of him and there was a clatter as he dropped the gun. I didn't see where it went, and didn't have time to scramble for it. I let my brother crumple and started for the door. I never got that far. There was a sudden burning pain in my scalp as Micky grabbed my hair and hurled me backwards. My back hit the kitchen counter and I saw his fist coming at me. I managed to jerk myself down out of the way, but just as quickly his leg came up and nailed me in my side, knocking me into the kitchen table.
I hit the table with a grunt. I felt the large man coming up behind me, and forced myself to move even though the blow from the pistol earlier was still making me dizzy. As I turned, I jerked the dining chair backwards and into Micky's path. Fun fact, when you slam your knee into an unmoving barrier, even the world's most unstoppable assassin, well, stops. I heard the crack as wood met knee and then he screamed in pain and started to fall.
Reminding myself to congratulate me later, I pushed away from the table. But before I could go more than a step, my foot was grabbed and yanked out from under me. I cried out and hit the floor on my side. Immediately, Micky was practically on top of me. His gaze was blurred by hatred and pain and his hands closed around my throat in an iron grip. "You ****!" He screamed at me. "You ****ing ****!" I struggled, bringing my hand up to claw down his face, but he didn't even seem to notice. If anything his grip grew tighter. I was starting to see spots.
Then I heard a shout that wasn't either of us and a loud, echoing gunshot filled the room. Micky's grip finally slackened as he looked down blankly at the hole in his chest that oozed blood. Together, both of us turned to see Craig standing with the gun raised. He was pale, but firm. "Get... your hands.... off of my sister."
Micky coughed, and blood came up. Despite everything, he smiled, his weight still pinning me down. "That was a bad idea, kid." His voice was strained, but he didn't appear particularly worried. "Now she'll never help Darryll." Before I could begin to process what that meant, a black shape tore itself from the man's body. It was something like a shadow, but more substantial. As it brushed over me, I felt an intense cold. It was slippery, like oil.
The body collapsed on top of me, and then his head raised. The blue aura of a man about to die lit the room, and I didn't have time to wonder why I hadn't seen any aura just before Craig shot him. His eyes were full of pain and regret. The voice for once was not mocking or confident. It cracked with the effort of speaking. "Stop... him. Don't let him... take your brother. Stop."
It came to me then. The truth. The slippery shadow thing that oozed through the air was Micky. And this poor, dying man was Darryll. Even as I realized that, the man lost his last breath and fell on top of me. There was nothing I could do for him. And, as I pushed myself out from under the body and rose, I saw that there was nothing I could do for Craig. The last vestiges of the oily shadow thing disappeared into his body, and he staggered. I opened my mouth to shout. "Craig! Leave him alone!" But even as I spoke, I knew it was too late. Micky had a new host.
HIs gaze locked on mine and I knew it wasn't my brother any more. He started to raise the gun, and I turned. He was blocking the door, but I had a different route in mind. His first shot blew through the table to my left. I could only assume that he was still getting situated and his aim wasn't perfect yet. I started to run, even as a second shot destroyed a vase practically under my arm. I was sprinting, straight at the window. My legs propelled me, but it was my adrenaline that kept me going. A third shot whistled through my hair, and then I was at the window.
Tucking my arms over my face as I lowered my head, I let out a kamikazi scream as I slammed through it. Glass shards sprayed everywhere and I felt a brief moment of euphoria. Then I started to fall. Emily's apartment had been on the fourth floor. About fifty feet up. Probably not enough to die, but no sane person would want to fall that far. Luckily for me, sanity hadn't been a problem in a long time.
The air rushed around me and I heard my brother's voice yell a curse. Then blinding pain filled me as I slammed into the grass. I felt both legs snap and then my arm did the same as I fell forward onto it. I screamed in pain, but forced myself to focus. I wasn't dead. I hadn't died, and anything short of death, I can deal with. That's not to say it doesn't hurt like a ****, but at least I was alive. And quickly, as I focused on the injuries first in my legs, then my arm, the pain passed. I healed myself.
Often appeared over me, her eyes wide with concern. "Macbeth!" When she saw that I was okay, she let out her breath. "Dude, when you jump off a building, you're supposed to have the power to teleport yourself through the trees so you don't get hurt."
I grunted slightly, lifting myself up with her help. "I knew I forgot something." I remarked before glancing up to the now empty window. People were already starting to come out to see what the commotion was. "Let's go! Go! We have to get out of here."
To her credit, Often didn't ask any questions. She just turned and started to move with me. I took a single step, and then I fell forward. Not because of any lingering pain, but because a vision filled my mind. I saw Emily. I saw her press her hands against that very glass that I had just crashed through. I saw how much she loved the view from her apartment. I saw how she spent hours at the window, just watching people. And then, with the connection established, I saw what she planned to do. I saw why she needed the bomb.
I came out of it to the sound of Often cursing as she shook me. "Mac! Wake up."
Groggily, I blinked my eyes open. We were somewhere indoors. I looked around. "Where are we?"
Often let out a breath of relief. "Gods, you've been out of it for fifteen minutes. I thought I was going to have to call a doctor or something. Are you okay?" She looked worried as her hand gripped my shoulder. "What the hell was that?"
"That--" I said with forced calm. "--was a vision. Wait, are we..." I looked around the place she had brought me. "Are we in a KFC?"
"Hey." The other girl retorted, starting to be herself once more now that she was sure I wasn't in a coma or anything. "If I was going to have to carry you to the hospital, I needed fuel."
I laughed despite myself and waved a hand. "It's okay, it's all right." I finished sitting up, finding myself in one of the booths at the back of the restaurant. I wasn't sure how she'd carried me in without attracting attention. I winced a little, thinking of Craig and how I had failed him just as he saved me, just as he believed me. But I wouldn't dwell. I couldn't. All I could do was promise myself that I would free my brother. Then I remembered the point of what I had seen. "I know why she's doing it."
Often turned back to me. "What?"
"Well, not why she's doing it." I amended myself. "But I know what. I know who. I know why Emily needs that bomb. I know what her real target is." As Often met my gaze quizzically, I went on. "She wants to blow up that hotel, the one from earlier. She wants to blow it up because she knows Maisie is there." I bit my lip, knowing the truth of what I was saying even if I didn't understand the why of it. "Emily wants to kill Maisie."
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Wow.
Best chapter yet! That was so emotional...poor Craig :( I'm so glad he's not evil though.
Good work :)
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Did I mention your plot twists are giving me whiplash? XD Another winner of a chapter; thanks a bundle, Cerulean.
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Ahhhhhh! Awesomeness.
I'm glad Craig isn't horrible. And Emily? WHOA. Cerulean, you are amazing.
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Nice work. :)
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Chapter Thirteen
"Be bloody, bold, and resolute; laugh to scorn the power of man, for none of woman born shall harm Macbeth." - Second Apparition, Act IV, Scene I
"Tell me again why you think this girl wants to kill the old woman and her spawned by way of Jackie Chan son?" The doubt in Tavelli's voice was palpable. But at least he had come when I asked him to. Actually, it probably meant more that he came despite his doubts than if he had been completely certain.
"Because I saw three different outcomes. In every single one of them, she was pissed off because she didn't manage to nail Maisie." I turned away from examining the doors of the hotel. The three of us were standing across the street from the place. The ironic part was that in trying to find the girl who wanted to bomb the place, we probably looked like we were the ones casing the joint. "But she did manage to kill a couple hundred innocent people. Just not the person she was aiming for."
Tavelli frowned. "I don't suppose you happened to see where she was going to set the thing off at?"
I shook my head. "It was too indistinct. I just saw a blank room. It could have been a utility closet, I'm not sure. All I know is she has the explosives parked in a vehicle somewhere close to the hotel, probably in the garage. Could be the van I saw before or it could be something else. That's the thing about seeing visions of the future. They tend to change as you go. She has the detonator on her. She wants to make sure Maisie's caught in the blast and then get out of the way before pulling the trigger."
"Speaking of trigger, too bad she didn't invest in a sniper rifle." Often commented while delicately brushing her hand over the side of a tree, the way that one might comfort a friend. "Because I'd tell her to have at it. That woman is extra creepy, super evil, mega dangerous." She squinted sidelong toward me. "I can't believe you're supposed to be related to her."
"I'm not." I replied just as I saw Tavelli's eyebrows go up. "I mean, I don't think I am. I mean, I don't want to be. I don't know. I'm not really related to her. She says we used to be sisters. Before I was born. Before I was reborn or whatever it is. What is it?"
Both of us looked to Often, who raised both shoulders. "I'm not exactly sure. From what she said, I guess you're both reincarnations of those women. Whether you're related now or not just because you used to be, that's more of a personal question, I think."
"Well," I started with false brightness. "I won't be claiming her on my taxes. You know, if I ever get around to doing them. I wonder if I can claim destiny itself as a dependant and get everything written off."
"Every what?" Tavelli asked with a wry smile. "You don't make a salary." He was still wore his starched white shirt and loose brown sports jacket. I had no idea how he managed to avoid passing out from over heating.
"Oh yeah." I rolled my eyes. "I'm strictly pro bono."
That brought Often's attention. "I wanted to talk to you about that. But uhh, away from Mr. Lawman." She gave the man a mock suspicious squint, which he ignored. "We wouldn't want to disturb his sensibilities."
Tavelli asked dryly. "Illegal or immoral?" His gaze was fixed on the hotel, and he sounded like he wasn't quite sure he wanted to know the answer.
Often gave it to him anyway after a moment's thought and calculation. "Seventy percent illegal. Thirty percent immoral. It's also ninety seven percent fun."
I asked before he could. "What about the other three percent?"
She grinned. "Stark raving terror."
"Ah." I nodded. "At least that'll be an upgrade from the sixty forty split I've got now." I considered before asking. "Will there be ponies?"
"Girls." Tavelli interrupted shortly. I detected a distinct tone of 'Why am I on a stake-out with these two instead of trained surveilance operatives'. "Can we focus?"
I stuck my tongue out at him. "You're just jealous because you want a pony too." Then I imagined the suit-attired detective riding one of the animals and had a snort-giggle fit. So I'm not exactly the epitome of professionalism. Give me a salary and I'll start clocking in. Add benefits and I might even dress up for the occassion.
My moment of daydreaming about forty hour work weeks and company cars was interrupted when I spotted something. "There." I almost raised my hand to point, but over the past years I've come to realize that if people have a sixth sense about being watched, they have seventh, eighth, and ninth senses about being pointed at. So I kept my hand down and just looked at the girl coming up the opposite sidewalk toward the hotel. It was Emily all right. She kept her head down and moved fast, but I knew it was her.
"Great." Tavelli sounded genuinely relieved that there was a psychopath with a bomb coming his way. I wasn't sure how to take that. "We've got to be careful about this. We don't want to--"
Often was already halfway across the street, cutting in front of a cab, which swerved and honked at her. Emily looked up and in a blink was running full tilt up the small walkway and into the hotel. Tavelli finished his sentence with a groan. "-spook her!" Then he was running, sliding over the hood of the same cab, the driver of which which was still swearing. I gave the cab a wide berth just in case three strikes was it and he started running over everyone in his way.
Inside, Tavelli was shooting Often a dirty look while the pair stood in the fancy lobby. Just as I caught up, he was berating her. "I want you to stay here in case she comes down. I'll--"
His look of exasperation grew as the other girl simply walked to the door to the stairs and shook her head at him. "One guy's gonna search this whole place? Sorry, Johnny Law but you're going to need help. What are you going to do, recruit the retirees in the hot tub to comb the building for you?"
He looked like he might be considering just that, but he ground his teeth a little before looking at me. "We should evacuate the building. If she has a-" He lowered his voice. "If she has a bomb... We should hit the fire alarm."
I shook my head. "You do that and she'll immediately set it off. I saw it. She doesn't want to risk giving Maisie a chance to get out. Look, every single thing I saw of this showed the bomb going off at noon. It's eleven forty. We've got twenty minutes to find her. Let's split up and do it. Just... stay away from the penthouse. She wouldn't go straight there. That's why she made this bomb so big. She wanted to be sure, and she didn't want to get anywhere near her."
Tavelli looked doubtful, but finally nodded. "All right, fine. Find her. Stop her from setting it off. I'll start at the top and work down." He moved to slap the button for the elevator. "Good luck."
"You too." I turned to Often. "You do the middle. I'll go to the basement and catch up with you." She nodded and we both entered the stairwell before splitting up. I took the stairs two at a time going down, using the railing to balance. Once I was halfway down, I slowed and began to walk carefully.
The door to the basement wasn't locked. I turned it very slowly and gently eased the door open, mindful of noise. As the door swung open, I saw a short hallway with two doors on the left, one on the right, and one on the end. Through the first door on the left I could hear several washing machines and voices speaking conversationally in Spanish. That had to be the housekeepers. The door on the right was marked supplies, and when I eased it open, I saw a packed closet with no room for a crazy lady with an itchy trigger finger.
Moving down the hall, I checked the second door on the left. It looked like a break-room of some kind. There was a long table with a couple decks of cards laying on it, a small television tuned to some Stallone movie, and a couple of men in janitor's outfits passing the time by smoking. I didn't think Maisie had any more murderous custodian's on her payroll, so I closed the door again before they noticed me.
That left the last door, at the end of the hall. Moving to it, I started to push it open, then stopped at a noise. It sounded someone muttering. "Heads. Tails. Heads. Heads. Tails." Oh fantastic. Were my own bad guys not enough? Did I need to borrow Two-Face from Batman's rogue's gallery too? Then I remembered that Two-Face used two headed coins and would have relaxed except, you know, woman with a bomb.
Trying not to let the door squeak, I pushed it open just enough to peer through. At first I didn't see anyone, but then the door was pulled straight out of my hand as Emily stepped into view, pointing a brand new gun she'd managed to acquire at me. I made a mental note to send the state governor a stern letter about firearms control issues.
Emily's voice was dark as she glared over the top of her gun at me. "If it isn't Magical Healing Girl. Get in here." She was turning the coin that she had apparently been flipping over and over in her other hand.
As I stepped inside and allowed the door to shut behind me, finding that we were in what looked like the boiler room, I commented. "I guess you can't come up with a good superhero codename for me either. Darn."
"Shut up." Her voice was bitter. "Just shut up, I have to think. She has to be here, right? She has to be here because where else would she be right now? She'd be waiting to find out about you. She doesn't like to go out on her own for no reason. She likes to delegate. Only what if she's not here? Heads she's here, tails she's not. But what if the coin is lying?"
Oookay, she was becoming even more unhinged. I winced and started. "Um. First of all, in my experience you should never let your homicidal impulses be dictated by a coin flip. For one thing, it's way too close to copyright infringement."
Emily's glare was hateful. "I told you to shut up. Just shut the **** up. Stop talking. Why is that so hard? I just want to kill this one little woman. Is that so bad?" She went on before I could try to figure out if a direct question countermanded the order to stop talking. "Just one little old woman. She has to die. She has to die for what she did, for what she took from me. I thought you could fix it, but of course not. Of course you wouldn't."
That confused me, and I asked very softly, watching the gun in her hand. "Emily, what did she take from you? What did you want me to fix? You never asked me to fix anything."
Her gaze snapped up to me. I think she might have actually forgotten that I was there for a moment while she had muttered to herself. "She stole it. They both did. They stole it from me because they wanted to get you here. All they wanted was to get you here and what happened to me didn't matter. They thought they could do it and just get you here and forget about me. But I won't let them forget. I won't let them ignore me, not after what they took."
She was starting to grow louder, and I glanced back at the door before carefully stepping further into the room, away from the entrance. I kept my voice as low and soothing as I could. "Emily, what exactly did they take from you?"
"My good!" The shout filled the room even as the tears filled the girl's eyes. "They stole my good! They put that dark thing in me, the dark man that controlled everything I did and when he left my good was gone. He hollowed out a place right inside me so he could steer and there wasn't any good left. I--" Her voice broke and for a moment she looked confused. "I know here... I know here what's wrong." Her hand moved to her head. "But I don't feel it. I can't feel the wrong. I can't feel the right. I can't feel it at all. It's wrong. I'm wrong. My self is wrong! My good is gone."
I reeled backwards and caught myself on the wall. My voice was a whisper. "Your conscience. He possessed you. He killed David Cellar, to draw me here. Somehow they knew I'd get the vision of it, or they sent it. When... when he stopped possessing you, you didn't have a conscience anymore." I was horrified, and not just for her. Was this what Craig was going to be like even if I got Micky out of him? Was his sense of right and wrong, his conscience going to be completely gone, leaving his sanity to rapidly deteriorate as his mind failed to reconcile what he thought he should feel with the complete lack of that feeling?
My reeling horror was cut short by Emily's words, bringing my focus to her once more. "I think I should feel bad about this." She was pointing her gun at me. "But I can't."
I was staring down the barrel of that gun, starting to move onto my toes so that I could throw myself out of the way when it happened. In a moment as clear and profound as the time that I first saw Tavelli in my mind, my world changed completely. It started when Emily lashed out with the pistol and slammed it into my face, knocking me senseless to the floor.
Only, she didn't. At least, not yet. But I saw it. I saw it as clearly as if it had already happened. I knew exactly what she was going to do and how she was going to do it before she made any move for it. Even as the woman's hand lashed out, I was moving out of the way. I moved because I saw it coming, before anything could have told me it was.
Emily looked just as stunned as I must have. Then her leg moved and kicked me in the side of the leg just enough to knock me off balance and put me in position for her to get me in the throat with a backhand from the pistol.
Only she didn't. Again, the image and complete knowledge of what she was going to do came to me before she did so. I started to move left, but another vision came, this one of Emily's corrected kick hitting my knee if I moved that way. Both visions, the images of what would happen came to me in frozen moments between milliseconds. No time seemed to pass in the real world while my mind took in the information and processed it. I jerked backwards intead of moving left, and Emily's kick missed me completely.
I had no idea how this was happening. Somehow, I was viewing my own fate and changing it with split second timing. I didn't know it was possible, and I didn't know how long I could keep it up. I had to end this.
Emily attacked me again, but I moved aside. She lashed out once more with a shout, furious this time, and I stepped into her guard and started to raise my own right hand to punch her. But I saw her grab my arm and twist it around, so in mid motion I switched arms and nailed her with a left hook that knocked her against the wall.
Now she was pissed. Her hand came up with the pistol even as she grabbed for something in her pocket. I saw her take what looked like a PDA from her pocket. I saw myself lunge for it. I saw her shoot me in the stomach just before triggering the device and blowing up the hotel, having given up on getting away, desperate just to kill the woman responsible for taking away her conscience, for stripping her soul from her.
I saw it in the microseconds before it started to happen. Then the device came up. The pistol was trained on me. In my mind, my visions ran through half a dozen scenarios. I grabbed the pistol, she triggered the bomb. I went for the detonator, she shot me and blew it anyway.
Finally, this amazing power that I had been given settled on the one positive scenario. In the span of what had to be one second, I had seen the same five second sequence eight times before finding one that worked. It was impossible. It was a miracle.
As soon as I knew which move to make, I went for it. Rather than attack Emily immediately, I shouted at her. "Micky's here!" That raised her gaze to mine, and past it as she searched for the truth of that statement, just long enough for me to slap the remote from her hand and send it skittering along the floor.
Eyes wide with fury, Emily turned the pistol back to me, but I was already diving for the remote. Her first shot ricocheted off the wall, while her second barely missed the water heater, which I and the remote were already sliding behind, just the way the vision had shown that it would play out.
Unfortunately, the vision hadn't shown me what she would do after that. Even as my hand closed on the remote, I heard the door slam. I looked up to find myself in an empty room. She was gone. I cursed and pushed myself up to chase after her. The sound of the gunshot had attracted the staff, who stood in the hallway in confusion. I ran past them and shouted something about the boiler so that they'd check that out. The detonator was in my hand, so at least Emily wouldn't be blowing anyone up today. I hit the stairs and took them up as fast as I could.
In the lobby, I spotted Often coming away from the desk. I pointed at the closing door and shouted to her. "Emily!" She didn't even question it. Together, we ran through the doors. Emily was already near the corner of the building. Coming out that side exit, barely missing her, was Tavelli. He tried to grab the girl's arm but she raised her gun to shoot at him and he had to hit the dirt.
Often and I sprinted across the lawn, hurtling the decorative flower beds. "Emily!" I shouted. "Stop, let me try to fix you!" I had no idea if it was within my capability, but I had to try and say something that would make the girl slow or even stop. She didn't even pause though. Tavelli was on his feet a dozen yards ahead of us, chasing Emily around parked cars in the lot. I heard another shot, but no one seemed to be hit.
There was a moment where we couldn't see either of the others. Then I saw the van ahead of us, past another row of cars. "There!" I shouted, grabbing my companion's sleeve. "That way!" We cut around a station wagon, just as the van roared to life. It reversed away from us, and I could see Tavelli and Emily struggling in the front. Then the van jerked to a stop as she hit the brake and Tavelli, unbraced, was knocked off balance just long enough for Emily to bash him down.
"No!" I shouted. Emily raised her gaze to me and then touched two fingers to her lips before placing them against the roof of the van. Then she spun the van around and took off, with Tavelli.
Often and I both panted for a moment, standing in the parking lot while sirens drew closer. Someone had reported the gunshots. I looked at the van as it tore out of the lot, and dawning realization came over me. I looked to the other girl and saw in her dread-filled gaze the same knowledge.
My vision was coming true. Tavelli in the van with Emily. It was packed with explosives. She was panicking. I looked down at the detonator in my hand, but she wouldn't need it. Her van was going to jump that median. She wasn't going to kill Maisie. She was going kill herself, Tavelli, and a bus full of children.
And there was no way that I could catch up to them in time.
edit: had to fix some typos
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So her earlier vision has come to pass after all, lol. Nice work man. :)
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"My good!" The shout filled the room even as the tears filled the girl's eyes. "They stole my good! They put that dark thing in me, the dark man that controlled everything I did and when he left my good was gone. He hollowed out a place right inside me so he could steer and there wasn't any good left. I--" Her voice broke and for a moment she looked confused. "I know here... I know here what's wrong." Her hand moved to her head. "But I don't feel it. I can't feel the wrong. I can't feel the right. I can't feel it at all. It's wrong. I'm wrong. My self is wrong! My good is gone."
Was not expecting this! That's sad, it makes me feel sorry for her as well as dislike her.
So after all that, her vision is still coming true...I wonder if by trying to stop it from happening she actually caused it to happen? If that makes sense.
Can't wait to see how she'll get Tavelli and the others out of this one...good work :)
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Here you go, guys. This chapter ups the ante on the entire shebang. Hope you like it.
Chapter Fourteen
"Make all our trumpets speak; give them all breath, Those clamorous harbingers of blood and death." - Macduff, Act V, Scene VI
Often didn't share my pessimism regarding the physical laws of an object in motion versus an object of much slower motion. The dryad was already cutting through a flower bed, taking care to jump straight over it rather than trample the innocent plants within. She yelled over her shoulder while I stood there dumbly. "Come on, Mac! That van ain't gonna stop itself!"
I snapped myself out of my hesitation and followed the other girl. The van had already made a hard squealing right turn out of the parking lot and was cutting off a delivery truck, much to the annoyance of it and the three cars jammed up behind the thing. I had no idea how the other girl expected to catch the thing, but just standing there dumbly obviously wasn't going to accomplish anything. "Tell me you have a plan!"
"Sure!" Often called back while running across the blacktop. "It's called stop the van before it kills a bunch of kids!"
I glanced sideways toward the van, which was accellerating along the road almost perpendicular to us. The road curved ahead and I could see that Often was aiming for the bend in the road where the van would have to slow enough to turn. "So what are the specifics of the plan?!"
She responded as though it were obvious. "I told you, stop the van before it kills a bunch of kids!"
"That's not a plan!" I retorted. "That's a goal!" The van was already making the turn, and I could tell that Often was slowing to let me catch up. For everything I am, a track star is not one of them. I was already breathing hard, and I wasn't sure exactly how much help leaping onto a van and promptly passing out was going to be. I know they say that being relaxed is supposed to intimidate your enemy, but that might be pushing the issue.
This wasn't going to work, not if Often, who was obviously faster and stronger than I was, waited for me. I shouted at her. "Go! Try to stop her. I'm going to try to find that bus!" I saw her hesitate, then give a brief nod and put on a burst of speed that left me stumbling in her dust.
The van had already made the turn and was starting to pick up speed again when Often leapt, catching onto the side of it. The vehicle immediately fishtailed before recovering as it spun around another corner. I could only hope that my friend could hold on and somehow stop the van. But in case she couldn't, I had to find that bus.
I took a moment to breath and then turned in a circle. Car, car, car, I needed a car. There were plenty in the parking lot, but most of them were expensive and probably not what I was looking for. Finally I spotted a likely prospect. It was a midrange sedan, a Ford. I ran that way, praying that I wouldn't have to find another one.
The reason I couldn't take one of the fancy speed demons, as much as it would have helped, is that I am not a professional car thief. I'm hardly a professional anything, but in this case it's even more apparent. Despite what certain video games may have you think, stealing a car isn't as easy as getting into it and waiting for it to start. There's all kinds of mechanical and electrical issues.
Luckily, it's much easier to bypass all of this security using people issues. Someone with fifty thousand dollar vehicle was going to be careful, but someone still making payments on the average sedan? I hoped I was right, even as I approached the blue Ford. Leaning down, I felt along the bottom of the car. Mumbling "Come on, come on....", I made my way all the way around the back and halfway up the passenger side before my fingers closed on a small rectangle. Fighting the urge to shout in triumph, I snagged the magnetic box and pulled it out. As I moved to the driver's side door, I slipped the small case open and dropped the key out into my hand. People use the little magnetic spare key holders to hide their keys under the car. My parents used to do the same thing. I've considered telling them about the problems with this system, but didn't really feel like explaining why I'd think about it.
I looked around to make sure I wasn't about to open a car and immediately have a screaming owner on my case, then unlocked the vehicle and ducked inside. Taking the time to look in the backseat while I slipped the key into the ignition, I saw a pile of quilts along with a coffee stained mug that read 'World's Greatest Grandma'. Great, so I was stealing an old lady's ride. Then again, I wasn't exactly feeling charitable toward old ladies at that point. Probably unfair, but I am only human. Sort of. At least there wasn't a kid in the back seat. Or a dog. I wasn't sure at that point which would have been worse.
Reversing out of the parking space, I glanced up to the mirror and adjusted it, then shifted into drive and pulled into the street. I had to think fast. Even as I floored the gas pedal and pulled around a yard service truck, I was trying to figure out how I was going to stop that bus before it pulled into its fateful line with the demolition van. Could it be as simple as pulling in front of it and stopping? Maybe simple wasn't bad, in this case.
First though, I had to find the damn thing. Gritting my teeth as I pulled around yet another vehicle in the way, I had to jerk the wheel back into my own lane a second later as an oncoming car blared its horn. I returned the favor before yanking the wheel once more to pull into the bike lane. With open space ahead, I hit the gas and took off. The second I was ahead of the other irritated drivers, I pulled back into the road and kept going. As annoyed as they were, they couldn't match the kind of horror that I'd feel if I let that bus be destroyed.
Blowing through a stop sign, I fought the urge to shout back at the screaming driver I'd cut off that he was going to have to get in line with the last half dozen people that had already made their own anatomically impossible demands. I did, however, take the time to shout at the next person to voice annoyance at my driving. "Just how limber do you people think I am?! Do I look like some kind of gymnastics prodggggwooooahzers!" My entry in the scrabble world championship was a direct result of realizing that keeping your eyes on the road didn't really help if the part of the road you kept them on was behind you. I had glanced ahead just in time to see a garbage truck pulling directly into my path. That was a newspaper article I didn't need to picture. 'Idiot Savior Killed By Sanitation Truck: Rescuers pry car remains open to discover she actually does bend that way.'
I managed to jerk the wheel to the side, massacre some poor guy's petunias, and avoid the garbage truck without losing too much speed. Wherever I was going, I was making decent time. At the moment, all I knew was that I had to get onto the freeway. That's where my vision had taken place. It was the only area that I knew the bus would be. Unfortunately, it was also where I knew the van would be. I just had to pray that I could get there first. I also had to pray that I wouldn't run into any cops on the way. I wasn't exactly sure, but I had my doubts that they'd take 'I had a psychic premonition that a van was going to crash into a school bus and explode' as legal defense. On the other hand, they might just inform me that Michael Bay wasn't filming in the area and send me on my way.
By some God given miracle, I managed to avoid getting too lost on the backstreets and made my way to the freeway ramp. I cut around a volkswagon to get up the ramp. I was twisting my head to look in every direction, but I couldn't see the van or the bus anywhere. My only hope was that my vision hadn't already happened. Although I was relatively sure I would have noticed an explosion like the one I'd seen before. At the very least, traffic wouldn't be cruising along like it was.
Ignoring the irritated honking around me, I floored the accellerator and weaved in and out of traffic, keeping my eyes moving. I sure as hell wasn't going to be winning any Florida Drivers Community Awards anytime soon, but I could satisfy myself with the thought that there would still be a Florida Drivers Community when I was done. "Where are you? Come on, where are you?!" I muttered to myself while trying to get around one of those oversized SUV's that kept trying to cut me off. Finally I twisted the wheel to go off the lane, enduring a few moments of violent shaking from the warning line used to snap drowsy drivers awake before twisting back into the lane ahead of the other vehicle which blared its disatisfaction.
Finally, thank the lord, finally, I saw it. Coming up on the opposite side of the freeway there was the bus. I could make out the yellow shape in between the other vehicles on the road. I looked up into the rearview mirror then, and saw the dread van coming up fast. I had maybe sixty seconds before the fateful collision. I couldn't make out the occupants of the van, so I had to assume the worst. Gritting my teeth, I pushed the gas pedal down as far as it would go, aiming for one of the breaks in the median up ahead.
Sixty seconds. Fifty seconds, forty seconds. I hit the opening and braked, twisting the wheel to shoot through into the opposite side of the freeway. I barely managed to avoid plowing into the side of another car before stopping in the momentarily open lane. Thirty seconds. I reversed briefly to turn and then shifted back to drive and started heading into the oncoming traffic. Twenty seconds. I tried to shut out the frantic horns as cars pulled around me to either side and focused entirely on the bus ahead. I could see the driver's confusion, and I prayed. "Stop the bus. Please stop. Please stop the bus. Stop the god damn bus!"
Ten seconds. The bus slowed. I shoved down on the brakes. Five seconds. The bus and my stolen sedan were nose to nose. I shoved the door open and stepped out, twisting to stare behind me. No time. Just as I spun, I heard grinding and tearing metal as the van tore through the metal fence that covered the median. It leapt the curb no further than two hundred feet ahead. The van hit the road directly where the bus would have been, and, with shaking knees I managed to breath a sigh of relief.
The van was briefly stopped in the freeway, then it jerked back into motion and continued down the freeway. As it kept going, I stared after it and said, with no small amount of uncertainty. "Yay?" Now I really had no idea what was happening. I'd avoided the explosion in my vision, but was this a good thing? Or was something even worse coming?
I turned back toward the sedan in order to follow them when I noticed that the bus had emptied. A host of children, along with two teachers and a grizzled driver were standing in front of it, staring at me. No one was saying anything. Behind them, I could see other cars beginning to slow and stop. I opened my mouth, searching for words. "I, uhhh..." My attention was drawn to a small, dark haired girl of about eight, standing directly beside her teacher. My throat caught for some reason, and I couldn't find my voice.
There was muttering among the students, and even the teacher's looked confused as to what they had just seen. Abruptly, several of the kids raised their hands to point. I turned with my hand on the car door, to find my brother standing behind me. Then my slow brain caught up with my confusion. Not my brother, not anymore. The bad guy. Micky. He raised one hand with a pistol and smiled. "Hiya, babe." My eyes reflexively followed the gun, and, in all out spite of my previously found precognition talent, I never saw the punch coming.
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"Wake up. Please wake up. Please." I heard the quiet, but insistent voice as it pulled me out of blank unconsciousness. When I opened my eyes, my vision was blurry. I had to blink a few times to clear it. Immediately, I found a pair of pale green eyes inches from my face. Yelping, I jerked my head away reflexively, causing the owner of the eyes to yelp as well.
I sat up to find myself sitting next to the dark haired girl from the bus. That confused me. Was I still next to the bus? No, there was carpet under us. I looked around to see a dimly lit but nicely decorated bedroom. "What?" My head was pounding, and I put my hand up to it with a wince. "Where are we? What happened?" Even as I asked, I figured that we had to be back at Maisie's hotel room. But why was this girl here now?
The girl shook her head, scooting back away from me to draw her knees up to her chest, settling her chin on them. Her voice was quiet, frightened. "I don't know. That man put you in the car, then he made me come with him or he'd shoot Miss Baskotty. He's bad. He's really bad."
"Yeah, he's bad." I agreed while pushing myself up. I had to put a hand on the wall to steady myself. "Why did he grab you? What's your name?"
"N-Nine." The girl responded quietly, her face half obscured by her mane of black hair.
I figured she was too scared to understand and shook my head. "No, no, honey. I asked what your name was, not how old you are."
At that moment, I heard the door open across the room. Maisie entered, smiling. "That is her name, Miss Bethy." The vile woman's eyes twinkled as she closed the door behind her and stood facing us. "Well. Isn't this a nice little family reunion?"
Feeling rather slow, I shook my head and glances to the other girl. She looked just as mystified. "Maisie, what are you talking about?" Even as I asked, the thing she had said earlier came to me. "Wait, three sisters. Are you trying to say that--"
Maisie cut me off with a gentle, mocking clap. "Very good, Lachesis, you are capable of connecting the dots when everything is set in front of you after all. Yes, this sprout of a girl is our sister. I'd tell you to think of the name, but highly doubt you've bothered to verse yourself in our history." She cleared her throat and then, with mocking patience, explained. "Our sister's name was Clotho. The Roman's named her Nona, the Ninth." She raised her hand to the terrified girl now half cowering behind my leg. "Nine."
I frowned, putting my hand on the girl's head. "Wait, so she just happened to be on that bus? How the hell does that work?"
Rolling her eyes, Lucifer's Evil Stepmother laughed at me. "Haven't you come to understand yet? Fate will make happen what it wishes. We are the Fates, and we are indeniably intertwined. in the same manner that I just happened to find you shortly after your birth, you found our youngest sister. If it hadn't been the bus, it would have been a house fire, or a plane crash. The Universe would have brought you to her in some way."
Nine's hand clutched at mine as she shuddered. "Please, I don't know her. I don't want to be here. Please, don't let her take me. She's with the bad man. She helps the bad man."
I sighed a little. "If only you knew." Using my hand to push the girl behind me a little bit, I looked back to the woman who called herself our sister. "What do you want, Maisie? What do you want from us?"
Maisie raised her withered old hand to point at us. "What do I want? I want the truth. I want the souls of those who imprisoned me. I want to force their screams into the fabric of my memory. It is the only thing that will soften the pain of my imprisonment."
She was crazy. I shook my head. "Maisie, they're dead! Whoever imprisoned you, whoever took your power, they're gone by now! There can't be anyone left to take revenge on!"
Her vicious, angry shout filled the room. "Their descendants then! I care not who they are, but somone must pay! Someone will pay!" Her eyes narrowed as her hand clenched. "I will have my revenge. If I cannot find those responsible, I will have their deaths another way."
I glanced back to the shivering Nine and then up to font of maleficence, speaking as calmly and firmly as I could. "We don't know who it was, Maisie. We don't know where they are. You know more than we do. She doesn't know anything at all. Just let her go."
Chuckling, Maisie shook her head. "No, I won't be doing that." She pointed once more. "You're a clever girl. You are going to find out who was responsible. You are going to point me to them." I opened my mouth to deny her, and she cut me off. "If you don't, I'm afraid, I will be forced to take dramatic measures. I will kill our dear sister."
The moment she voiced the threat, I felt the bile rise in my stomach. My mind whirled and then I was thrust into another vision. I saw the room we were in now. Nine sat on the bed, staring at Micky sheathed in my brother's form. Maisie stood nearby with a phone to her ear. She lowered the phone, looked toward her pet assassin, and said, "Do it." At her words, Nine opened her mouth as the familiar blue aura rose up around her. The young girl's terrified scream echoed throughout my consciousness as Micky sent a single bullet directly into the center of her forehead.
Even as the girl fell backwards, lifeless and broken, I saw that blue glow brighten, rather than fade. It swept out away from her lost shell, avoiding Maisie. It went through Micky and I saw my brother's body drop lifelessly to the floor while the dark shadow that was the actual Micky remained in place. My vision pulled backward and out of the hotel. I saw the blue glow radiate outward from its epicenter, killing every single person that it touched. It drained the life of every single human being, first in the city, then the state, and radiated outward from there. No one was spared. No one survived.
I was on my knees, retching when I came too. I felt a withered finger tuck itself under my chin and lift my head. Maisie's gaze burned into mine. She knew what I had seen. "If you do not bring me those responsible for my torture, I will get them the only other way I know how. I will kill the center of life on this planet, and with her, every other living being in the world."
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Nice work as always Cerulean, I like that you introduced the 3rd sister into the mix.
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That was full of action...had me glued to the screen. I lol'd at this
'Idiot Savior Killed By Sanitation Truck: Rescuers pry car remains open to discover she actually does bend that way.'
Awesome job, can't wait for the next chapter!
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Chapter Fifteen
"That which hath made them drunk hath made me bold; What hath quench'd them hath given me fire." - Lady Macbeth, Act II, Scene II
It's amazing, and a little frightening, how much can happen in a single day. In twenty four hours, lives can be saved or ruined, families can grow or tragically shrink, the faithful can become the faithless. In the few minutes that I spent being shocked by Maisie's apocalyptic promise, I was escorted rather firmly off of the premises by a man whose face I couldn't bother to notice, a nameless minion of this epitome of evil who called herself my kin.
I stood on the sidewalk. People moved all around me. Children shouted, mothers corralled their young, fathers tried to help while unable to keep their wandering eyes from the beach and thoughts of easier, more carefree times. The cacophony of people, cars, the city itself surrounded me. And I was alone. These crowds, these people, innocent and guilty, could die. They could all die, because I didn't doubt for one moment that Maisie wouldn't do what she said she would if someone to blame for her imprisonment, some descendant of those responsible, wasn't given to her. She would do it because she was evil. She was evil in a way that the word meant before it was carelessly tossed around and used to label everything from third world dictators to a cranky teachers. In a world where evil is a word used by supposed religious beacons to describe a love they don't happen to agree with, the thing that called itself Maisie MacFarquhar could not be adequately described by anything less.
These people, and everyone I would never meet, would die if I didn't find the answers that Maisie had been unable to find. They would be snuffed in an instant, never knowing why, unless I did something, unless I was able to find one more miracle. It was too much. This was too much. Everything couldn't stand on my shoulders. I was twenty years old. I was a kid. I was a child trying to do the best I could with the powers that had been handed to me through a birthright, a resurrection, a fate that I didn't understand. I accepted them, I knew my burden and my gift. But I wasn't ready. These two years were not enough, these previous tests when I had thought that stopping a man from killing his wife so that she could go on to give the homeless man she passed just a little bit of hope that lifted him into the world once more and found a winter shelter that saved hundreds of other street dwellers was the height of my capability and accomplishments. Now, in twenty four hours, I had been handed an ultimatum that would decide whether this world, not neighborhood, not hospital, not school bus of children, but world, survived.
In the face of this responsibility, or perhaps spitting in the face of it, I did the only thing that I could do at the time and maintain any idea of sanity. I walked across the street, and I watched a boy play basketball.
I didn't know why I was standing there, hand on the chain link fence as I watched this olive skinned teenager toss a ball through the netless hoop. I was lost. Maisie demanded the impossible, and threatened the unimaginable. I had to find Often and Carter. We had to come up with some kind of plan. But instead, I stood completely still and watched the rhythm of the ball as though mesmerized. My responsibility, my duty, my life was too much. So for a moment, just for a moment, I stood still and let the world itself continue on without me. Hate me for that if you will, loath me for my weakness because my only excuse is that for all the power that weighs my hands, I am human. I am flawed, and I am emotional. Your world, our world, is not in the hands of an immobile bastion standing in a river of sin, blocking the tide of darkness with shield raised. She is a girl, barely more than a teenager, who hardly knows what she's doing half the time and has no clue the rest. I got a C in World History. My high school soccer coach said, of my athletic ability, that I was average. Your champion, ladies and gentlemen.
"The trouble is seeing the whole thing." Watching the ball bounce off the rim, acting for one moment as though I didn't have these responsibilities, I almost didn't realize the voice was speaking to me. Turning, I saw the boy watching me as the basketball rolled past him. A very slight smile seemed to tug at his lips. On closer inspection, his features seemed more chiseled than those of a neighborhood park rat. Though he still looked young, he was obviously strong. His light, sun streaked blonde hair curled very slightly.
Reaching down, I picked up the ball as it rolled closer. I turned it over in my hands before throwing it back to him. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"
He caught the ball and spun it between two fingers, then up onto one and down his arm, showing off. "I said, the trouble is seeing the whole thing. It's like this." Turning, the boy rose smoothly onto his toes and threw the ball easily through the hoop. "I see the circle, and I put the ball there." He walked forward and picked up the ball before turning back to me. "This other stuff, the opposite basket, the pavement, that fence, other players, audience, that guy on the bench playing chess, I know they're there. But what matters, what really matters in that moment, is the basket. If I let that other stuff, the score, how stupid I'll look if I fall on my face, or what the cute girl standing by the fence thinks about me, I'll screw up. Because," He paused and in the relative quiet, bounced the ball from one hand, down to the ground and back to his other hand. He repeated this a couple of times before speaking once more. "The problems in the world aren't meant to be seen all at once, any more than they're meant to be solved that easily. No one expects you to single handedly save humanity, Macbeth."
That brought my gaze up quickly. "What? What did you-- how do you know my name?" I was, understandably I would think, cautious. Yes, Often had already known who I was, but even factoring that in, my track record in the past 24 hours with people who knew more than I did about any given situation wasn't exactly spiffy.
Holding the ball in both hands as though considering the question, the boy then bounced it over to me. "I've known your name for a long time. I've known you as you were and now as you are. I've gotta say though, I prefer the upgraded version. The old you didn't have a sense of humor. Then again," He smiled with a certain wry self-awareness. "I suppose not many of us did at that point."
I held the ball tightly, staring at the boy. "Are you saying you're one of the old... that you were alive back then?" He looked even younger than me. Often looked young too, when she was actually over two hundred. But this boy was claiming to have been around for so long that I couldn't even calculate it. "You're like us then, right? You were..." I looked around and lowered my voice, feeling more than a little daft. Here Maisie had handed the future of life on Earth to me, and I was afraid of some random park stroller thinking I was loony. My priorities are straight, they just wiggle a little bit. "You were resurrected?"
The boy's only response was to raise an eyebrow. Then he went on without actually answering. "The point is, you're looking at this all wrong. You're seeing everything at once. You're focusing on fate of humanity." He held his hands out for the ball.
Throwing it back to him, I frowned. "That's kind of the important part of this little quandary, isn't it?"
"Not really." The boy laughed a little as I gaped at him. He turned to shoot the ball once more, putting it perfectly through the hoop yet again. "Macbeth, in your first little mission, did you save the lives of all those people that will eventually end up in the hospital?" The boy waited until I shook my head slowly. Then he picked up his ball and continued. "You saved the woman, the woman will teach the doctor, and the doctor will save those people. You didn't walk into that hospital, learn to practice medicine, develop an experimental treatment, and personally save their lives. But when they are saved, it will be because you rescued that teacher." He smiled as he met my gaze. "You focused on the basket, Macbeth, and that's the entire point. That's what you've been learning. Cause and effect. If you do one thing, if you tip the right domino in the right place at the right moment, you can change the world. Or rescue it. Stop worrying about how heavy the boulder is and push the lever."
"So..." I shook my head, folding my arms over my chest. "What do you think the domino is that's going to stop Maisie from killing Nine and destroying humanity?" He stood impassively and watched me for several seconds before I got it, and I immediately felt stupid. "Wait. Oh my god, you're right. I've been focusing on the world. I've been thinking about humanity. I've been thinking about everything that's going to happen if I screwed up. I don't need to think about that." I had been looking past the boy into the distance, and now returned my look to him. "I don't have to rescue humanity from the dynamite. I need to rescue the dynamite. I can't save humanity. But I can save Nine."
Grinning with a perfect little row of teeth, the boy nodded once. "Stop trying to be responsible for every single piece on the board. Focus on what you can change, and use that to help what you can't."
I started to turn, then stopped to look at him once more. "You know a lot about me. You know about all of this. You said you knew me before I knew me. So," I hesitated, wetting my lips before asking. "Am I doing this because it's my choice, like I want to believe. Or am I doing it because fate said I would? Is my life dictated by my choices or by prophesy?" I didn't know why, but I felt as though I wasn't going to get a better time, or a better person to ask that question.
The boy raised his gaze to the sky for a moment before fixing his eyes on me. "Macbeth." His tone was ancient, a voice from ages long past. "You fall into the same trap as so many others. You make the same mistake. You assume that fate and choice are two contradictory things."
"Uhhh." I squinted at the boy, trying to understand him. "I'm pretty sure they kinda are. If you're fated to do something, you don't have a lot of choice in the matter. It's kind of one way or another. Either we have prophesy or we have free will."
He gave a slight, amused laugh that was not mocking. "Do you read mysteries, Macbeth?"
Confused by the question, I nodded. "Sure. I mean, not all the time, but of course I've read mysteries."
Looking down at the ball as he rolled it between his hands, the boy continued. "Have you ever looked at the last few pages right off the bat and spoiled the answers for yourself, given away the murderer before you even get halfway through?"
Slowly, I leaned back against the fence, thinking about his words. "I... guess so. Yeah, I've read the ending first. I mean, everyone does sometimes."
He gave a very short nod. "When you read the ending first, does the murderer become who he is because you read it? Does the author's entire story, the words they wrote change because you flipped to the end?" When I shook my head, he put a hand out and touched my arm. "Macbeth, prophesy is not about a man foreseeing what his descendant will do and thus forcing every choice throughout the history between the two to follow what he foresaw. Prophesy is about flipping to the end of the book. It doesn't change the middle, and it doesn't force the ending, the revelation, the twists to conform in any way. Fate is about seeing the result of choices, not about taking those choices away."
I was silent for a moment, absorbing his words before speaking hesitantly. "Who are you, anyway?" There was something about him, something that had tickled the back of my brain since before I laid eyes on him. Something that had drawn me to this spot. It felt as though I knew exactly who this was, like I had known him before. But it was in the back of my mind and refused to come out and be understood.
The boy smiled with a mysterious glint in his dark eyes. "Everything in its time, Macbeth. You know that." Then he looked over my shoulder. "Your friends are here."
Turning, I saw Often and Tavelli crossing the grass toward us. When I looked back, the boy was already on the other side of the blacktop court. Squinting, I could barely make out the letters on his shirt. On the back of the pristine white jersey was the name Musagetes. And then he was gone. The sun seemed to turn up a few notches, forcing me to squint and cup my hand over my brow, and when I could see again, the boy had vanished.
"So Mr. Lawman asks me," Often was saying conversationally as the two approached. "He says, Oh dear, smart, beautiful, daring, sensitive, gorgeous, charming, beautiful--"
Obviously rolling his eyes behind his sunglasses, Carter muttered. "You said beautiful already."
Without sparing him a glance, the dryad shrugged. "Is it my fault when you repeat yourself?"
Flailing both hands up, Tavelli protested. "I never said any of that. Quit ad libbing."
"Who's telling this story, me or you?" Without giving the flustered detective the slightest opening to respond to that, Often turned back to me. "Anyway, he asks me where the best place to find you would be. So I asked myself, what is the most insane, reckless, ridiculous place for my little Macin-tush to be right now? Then it came to me: right under the font of all evil's potty room window. And here we are. Ta da."
They explained that between the two of them, once the threat of the bus explosion was taken care of, they had managed to subdue Emily. She was now hogtied, handcuffed and gagged in the back of her own van, and the explosives had been quickly transferred to what Often mysteriously called a safe location. Then I caught them up on what Maisie had done, and what she was threatening. I have to say, they both took it pretty well.
"Are you ****ing kidding me?! That **** is--she's actually, you're not... she's going to... What the **** are we supposed to do?! What the hell is--is this even--is there even--are you ****ing--What?!" The words kept piling up inside Carter's mouth as he spat them out with increasingly frantic hand gestures. Huh, apparently he was cool with reincarnated Greek legend saving lives through prophesy, but humanity being wiped out with a single bullet sends him into raving lunatic land. I wondered momentarily where the exact line had been. It might have been good to know for future reference.
"Have your breakdown on your own time." Often gave the man a little push before looking back to me. "So what now, Chief?"
I opened my mouth, then stopped. Because I knew. It wasn't a vision of the future, it was a sudden knowledge of the past. It was a truth that had been revealed to me between the spaces of memories. I looked to my new friends in this life, and my epiphany was complete. I knew what I had to do. I knew what had to happen. The only thing I didn't know, is if I had the courage, the strength, the spirit to do it. And yet, I did know.
A boy becomes a man, and a girl becomes a woman not through a single moment, but through a lifetime of them. Every choice they make is a step through this sinuous labyrinth of reality. Throughout our days, we are children, making our wayward path in the maze that is life. Each action we take, good or bad, brings us toward the zenith of our existence. And it is only in the moment that we reach that vertex of this life, between our last breath in this journey and our first within the wondrous path that lays beyond, that we can truly say that we have done all that we can. Until that penultimate exhalation, if there is at least one more yet to come, it is every person's duty to make the next choice, to take the next step.
Despite my powers, I do not know what lies beyond this life. But I do know, that when at last my personal journey is over and I stand on the cusp between the world traveled and the world unseen, I will join those before me in saying that I have done all that I can do. And I will do so without regrets, because the footprints, the choices which have lain and will lay behind me, are my own. None are perfect and many seem ridiculous, but they are mine. Whatever has gifted us with the lives we lead, I believe, asks only one real thing of us: that we live them the best way that we can. So, despite my fear, I would do what I knew was right. Because when I take my last breath, it will be with the knowledge that I did what could. And that is all that anyone can ask.
"Macbeth?" Often's voice was soft as she watched me carefully. "What are we doing?"
I straightened my back slightly and looked to her. I tried to smile, but I was afraid. Despite my understanding, or perhaps because of it, I was still afraid. "Now, we save Nine, and we stop Maisie by trapping her in the same prison that she was lost in before."
Now Tavelli asked. "How are you going to do that? You don't know who trapped her in the first place."
"Yes I do." I bit my lip, then lifted my gaze to the hotel where my two sisters, one pure, one evil, dwelled. "I did."
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(pssst, look up the name on the jersey if you need to. :P)
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Awesome work as always. Nice cliffhanger and I liked the philosophical parts too.
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Awesome :D :D :D
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Thanks you guys. :D
I've decided to start playing a game. You know how each chapter tends to end on a cliff hanger. Well, now I'm going to start scrambling words that are a hint of what the cliffhanger of the next chapter will be. Some will be very direct, some harder.
This scrambled word is actually multiple words (I won't say how many yet), and is extremely direct on what the cliffhanger will be.
IWEKLGNNSAKAAIDHA
I might give more hints before the chapter goes up. I just thought I'd add a little guessing/interactivity.
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Really enjoyed that chapter. I get really involved in the story everytime I read an update. I like that you've added another character!
Ahh I suck at anagrams...I'll give it a go another time. Awesome idea though!
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That's okay, it's probably impossibly hard to do with just that. I'm just paranoid about someone actually figuring it out ahead of time. But I'll say this much, it's three words.
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Is one of the words...
[spoiler]weakling?[/spoiler]
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Oh jeeze, sorry, Kelly. I thought I responded to this. No, sorry, that wasn't one of the words. The answer to the scramble is after the chapter.
LONG chapter this time around, guys. Most of the chapters are about 3,000 words, this one clocked in at 4477. Enjoy! The opening quote is rather appropriate, and I'm sure SOMEONE here was wondering what chapter it would be used in. Baaaaaad juju going down.
Chapter Sixteen
"By the pricking of my thumbs, Something wicked this way comes." - Second Witch, Act IV, scene I
It was nice to be the one making someone else's jaw drop for once. I needed to do it more often. I'd been getting surprised so much recently that the flies in my mouth had begun filing residency papers. Maybe with enough moments like that, I'd stop feeling like someone with chronic amnesia twisting the handle of a jack-in-the-box.
I was already walking by the time Often and Tavelli caught up. The first words out of my pink haired friend's mouth were. "What the hell did you just say? You did what? You're the one who what?" Reaching out a hand, she caught my arm. "Mac! You can't just... are you sure? How do you know?"
Nodding, I gestured to the van parked next to the playground. "Yeah, and I can do it again. But I need to talk to Emily."
That brought both of Carter's eyebrows up. "Okay, see when you say things like, you can imprison the embodiment of death, that makes me worry about you. Saying that you need help from a psychopath that was just carting around enough explosives to turn Disneyworld into Disneyw- doesn't do wonders for my confidence in this plan."
"I hate to say it." Often sounded just as hesitant as Tavelli did. "But the wondercop's got a point. What kind of help are you hoping to get from the she-****?" For once, the casual merriment within her gaze was almost unnoticeable, replaced by concern and questions. "What happened back there?"
"Guys." I raised both hands. "It's okay. I never said I wanted her help. There's something I can do, but I need Emily because she was possessed by Micky."
Carter wasn't any less confused or more convinced. "What are you talking about? She was possessed by Micky and that somehow helps us? By the way, just repeating, as far as dangerous assassin names go, Micky isn't going to be in the top ten."
Glancing over my shoulder at the van, I figured my sense of urgency was going to have to wait. I needed to explain this to both of them, just in case something went wrong. Forcing myself to slow down, I started to explain what I had remembered. "His name isn't Micky. Not really. That part's a joke."
"I didn't know Maisie had a sense of humor." Often commented dryly.
"It's not her joke, it's his joke." I sighed and gestured. "Let me start at the beginning. Well, not the beginning, because I don't know what the beginning is. And that would probably be getting a little too creationist versus evolutionist for my taste anyway. But let me tell you what I remember." Both of them, my new companions in this quest, grew silent as I recounted the memory to them.
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I stood in a field of wild flowers. A narrow path led from the flat semicircle where I stood through the field and down a hill that was crossed by a stream midway. Beside me, my sister, my companion through the centuries, knelt before a collection of rocks. Our third sister, the youngest, sat on the opposite side of the stones, holding a naked infant in her eternally young arms. Though the skies were clear, thunder rolled over the land.
From her perch in apparent prayer, Atropos, who I would later know as Maisie, spoke. "The Mother's Arms will be here shortly."
In front of her, on the other side of their rock altar, Clotho said softly. "The prison has not yet been completed." She shifted the infant, whose dull and lifeless eyes should have horrified me, yet didn't. Because I knew that the apparent child had never been truly alive. It was merely an empty vessel meant to contain that which we sought to imprison, a mortal shell that would allow its otherwise immortal future occupant to be killed. "She sends her men too soon."
I felt my head shake as I responded with a grim certainty. "It does not matter. They can't stop this, no matter how many she has sent." Even as I spoke, my hand gripped the hilt of a sword that rested against my hip. I realized that the thunder wasn't that of the natural variety, but was the sound of many running footsteps as an army drew closer. A steady, smooth ring filled the air briefly as I pulled the blade from its scabbard. "She has only sent them to crash in vain against the wall of her own destiny." My hand squeezed the hilt of the sword firmly, with the familiarity of a warrior who has spent a lifetime with her weapon. "Her ocean of warriors is but a few tender waves upon the sands of our eternity."
Clotho's voice was sad, and quiet. "My fear was not that they would break our ritual." I felt my younger sister's gaze upon my back, but refused to turn to her. "I mourn their deaths, Lachesis. Do you have no mourning within you? No regret at the senselessness of the destruction of these men?"
"They serve an evil mistress." I had had this debate with the youngest of our trio many times. "I feel no pity for one whose actions feed the hunger and power of one such as she."
"Perhaps," Our eldest spoke. "The time for philosophy has ended. The legions are nearly upon us. You must keep them away, Lachesis. You must not allow them to disturb the binding."
Something within her voice made me turn her way. But her back was to me, and the thunder was getting closer. I would ask her what I had sensed in her voice once this was done. Turning away from both of my sisters, I made my way down the hill. As I neared the base, I could see the dustcloud as the Mother's army approached. I felt no fear, no anxiety or regret about what was to come. Clotho's words, her question of whether I had no remorse over the fate of these men was senseless. These men chose to serve an evil being, and in that choice they created their own destiny. My sword would only carry out the order they had written.
Extending my hand to the left as I stood at the foot of the trail, I felt the essence of the rocks and ground. I felt their potential, what they would become through the millenia of their existance. I felt their rise and eventual decline. I could visualize the mountains and cliffs that would be formed out of this field as nature took its course over many centuries. In the eons that this world would continue, this land would be raised up. I felt it. I knew that it would eventually be, and so I could make it so. Because my power was that of destiny, the destiny of the earth as much of people themselves. I felt this land's destiny, and I brought it to pass. With a thought, with a mental urging, I brought the passing of millenia to the land within a few moments. The earth shook in a manner that made the approaching army's thunder pale by comparison. On either side of me, the land rose up. The ground itself shifted under my feet as mountains were formed where a field had been moments ago.
I felt my power, my strength course through the land as I stretched it, forcing it to obey my command. My order was destiny, and even the earth itself could not disobey. In the course of a single minute, I created sheer cliffs that stretched into the clouds, leaving only the single path that led to my sisters. And that path was blocked by a force more resolute than any mountain. It was blocked by my blade.
As the running men approached their death, I stood motionless at the entrance to the narrow canyon that I had created. Of us sisters, I was the one that dealt the most with the world as it existed. Clotho gave men their potential, their life was a part of her power. Atropos ended that potential, their death was her power. But the potential itself, and what they did with it, that was my power. I saw men as they lived, not as they were born or as they died. I dealt in what was. I had no reason to think of what my younger sister said of regret. And yet, as these men approached, somehow her words continued to repeat themselves in my mind. With effort, I shook the seeds of doubt she had planted aside. There was too much to do.
Forcing my gaze forward, to the mortal army, I waited. A dozen men came for me, a dozen that were the spearhead of hundreds. Each man stood tall, bristling with the weaponry they had mastered. Sweat glistened on their muscular forms as they led the charge toward the narrow opening that led to their goal. They had seen the earth rise up, but they did not falter. For some, it was utter conviction in their cause that fueled their courage. For most, it was the fear of she that had sent them. Even the mountains lifting from the dirt would not compare with the force of her rage if they disobeyed her command to destroy those that sought to imprison her.
I felt no fear, no pity, no remorse for these men. What I felt was confusion over my sister's words. Why would Clotho wish me to have regret for those who willingly allied themselves with evil? But then, hadn't I by my own thoughts said that for most of these men, will was not an option? They came to their deaths at my hand because to do otherwise would ensure their deaths at the hand of their mistress.
Shaking those thoughts from my mind, I met the charge of the initial men. The first came in with his heavy sword held in both hands high above his head as he let out a war cry that would sweep back through the army. Behind him and slightly to the right, a taller man with a spear reared back to throw. To the left, another man with a sword held low, sweeping up on that side. Behind him, a fourth man, spear held close to his chest as he hurled himself forward for a better angle.
Time stood still. I extended my power through these men. I felt their destiny. I saw their fates converge to this moment. I saw all of the ways that this battle could go. I saw how they could win, and I took that away from them. Each path through the tangled battle that led to their survival I closed. In the frozen second as the men came upon me, I witnessed my death a dozen times over. I saw every single action that could have led to my loss, and in seeing it, I ensured that it would not happen. If I slipped my foot right to avoid the thrown spear, the second sword would catch me as I blocked the first. But if I stepped backwards, the second spearman would over extend himself and accidentally block the advance of the second swordsman, leaving me precious seconds to kill the first. Afterwards, if I moved on the second, the other spearman would use his reach to wound me. Making him my second target kept his body between the remaining swordsman while the man who would have already thrown his spear in the initial assault still drew his close weapon.
I saw all of this, and much more. I saw every single way that this battle could go, and I chose the outcome before it began. While the first spear still whistled through the air toward me, I chose every action that I would take, and in doing so, I chose every reaction of the enemy. I controlled the course of the battle, and thus determined the outcome before the first blow.
The spear from the second man whistled through the air, but I was already stepping backward. The shaft cut in front of the first swordsman, slightly slowing his charge. In that brief moment, while the second spearman rushed forward and blocked the approach of the other swordsman, I lunged forward and buried my blade in the chest of the first while he still held his weapon high in both hands. I felt it sink through armor, chest, and bone with equal ease. Even as the man's eyes widened with the shock of his own death as his sword fell from his limp fingers, I reversed my grip on the hilt of my own and used it as a handle, hoisting myself up before the man's heavy body had even begun to fall. Twisting up and around to lift both legs into a perfect kick, I hit the shaft of the second spearman's weapon while he still held it tightly. The kick shoved the spear aside and directly into the path of the other spearman, who, having already thrown his initial weapon had been drawing his shortsword while he continued to charge. The head of the spear neatly impaled the man through the throat.
Still in midair, spun sideways from my extended kick, I pulled my own blade from the chest of the first man even as his body had just begun to collapse. Twisting, I hurled the weapon under the arms of the man whose spear my kick had deflected, and into the stomach of the swordsman behind him. That man stood in silent shock as his body went into convulsions. Finally, I landed in a crouch, three of the four men dead and the last soon to follow. He may have felt more confident for my lack of apparant weaponry. He should have known better. Rising from my crouch, I lunged forward before he could yank his own spear from the neck of his comrade. Seizing the man by each shoulder, I shoved him backwards, thrusting him upon the blade of the second swordsman, who was only beginning to fall.
As the four men lay upon the ground, their dying blood soaking into the earth, I withdrew my sword from the body it had been embedded within. I also took that man's less well made but still lethal blade. Then I stood and met the charge of the rest of the initial twelve. They fared no better than the four. And the ten after that no better either. Nor the ten, twenty, thirty that followed. The course of this battle had already been decided. The men approached destiny, and she met them with a sword in each hand, dealing their deaths with a sureness that none living could match.
The moment that the last man had fallen, as a river of blood swept the field, I felt the wrongness in the air. Even as I pulled my sword from the skull of the final body, I knew that terrible things were amiss. Turning with a sense of urgency that had been utterly absent during the frentic battle, I ran back up the trail to where I had left my two sisters.
When I emerged once more in the field of flowers, I found Atropos, the eldest Fate, standing upon the rock altar we had constructed. In her hands she held the formerly empty shell of a child. Cast aside in the dirt was our younger sister. Dark blood, so similar to that of the men upon the field that I had slain remorselessly and yet infinitely more distressing to me, covered her forehead where she had been unexpectedly bashed. Her attacker was obvious, our sister had turned on us.
With my sword tight in my hand, I faced the Eldest. "Why?!" I shouted, because even as the purveyer of fate, I could see no reason for this betrayal.
Atropos looked down upon me and smiled. "Because we have a deal, the two of us, child." While she spoke, the truth of things became clear. She was not referring to me, but to the being that we had sought to imprison, the Mother. "We had a great many things to talk about, when she/I came to her/me."
I recoiled, the horror of truth repelling me as no weapon could. "You joined with her. Atropos, you joined with the Mother!" It was as I said, as I saw. The two beings, my eldest sister and the horrid creature that we wanted to imprison within the mortal form to be killed had merged into a symbiotic relationship. "Why continue the charade? Why allow the ritual to continue?"
Continuing to hold the body of the infant in her arms, the combined beast responded with a laugh. "Because of the child! With the power of birth, potential, and death, the three of us/you could created a child. I/She knew that such a gift was exactly what She/I needed to advance. Her/My legacy would be continued only through the birth of a human child. Mother I/She is, but a human child she/I is incapable of birthing. Our/Your power was needed."
Even as they spoke together, I could see the infant move. The ritual had been completed. They had created life within the empty shell. But what kind of life. "What is it?" I circled, keeping an eye on our unconscious younger sister. "What kind of life could a being such as yours create?"
The smile grew. "His name is Icon. For he shall be a living trophy, a king upon all lands and speaker of My/Our words. His name will be that of the most powerful idol of the land, worshipped by millions upon birth. From his mortal shell he will be unbound, for it will be as fluid as time itself." While they spoke, the infant body within my elder sister's arms seemed to melt, becoming the shadow that I had seen before it entered my future brother's body. The shadow, the 'Icon' that would later take up the suitably iconic name of Micky, coiled like a serpent around the legs of its mothers. I could feel its malevolence.
"I cannot allow such a thing to live." I narrowed my eyes at my sister, who had chosen to ally and combine herself with that which we had sworn to destroy. "And I cannot allow you to leave this field. Not as what you've become."
The Icon shadow hissed in fury at the threat, even as my sister and what had melded itself to her laughed. Her voice called out. "You cannot do anything to stop it, Lachesis! You do not have the power to contain our combined forms, or that of her/my child. He will possess you. He will destroy your spirit from within, where you have no defense."
The shadow moved, and I braced myself, raising the sword. But another voice shouted. "No!" I could see our youngest sister, standing now with blood obviously obscuring part of her vision as it dripped from her forehead over her eye. "Atropos, no! Why would you do this?" The plaintive cry of the youngest of us, the eternally innocent, brought a pain to my heart. I almost felt as though I were the one that had betrayed the circle of our trio. Then her eyes met mine and she continued. "Lachesis, the binding!"
The binding ritual. If we had been unable to kill the Mother once the creature was imprisoned within the body we had created, we would bind it within time itself. Hopefully, when the creature eventually escaped its chrono prison, we would have found the way to destroy it. But could two of us open the rift within time? Clotho thought we could, and there was no time to doubt her. Instantly, even as Atropos shook her head wildly, I focused on doing exactly that.
I felt the power of my younger sister join with my own as we extended both hands toward the eldest of us, our betrayer. Ancient words filled the air, words that have no meaning in the language of mortals. The power bristled through my every pore, electrifying the air. Atropos and the being she had joined with, as well as her shadow-creature spawn flung themselves forward to stop us. But the moment we began, a shield of power sprang up to surround the objects of our focus. I could feel the terrifying force that those imprisoned beings brought against the field. With time, they would shatter it, but they wouldn't have that time.
Over the clash of lightning above our heads, I shouted to Clotho. "When we open this rift, there will not be time to escape it!" I paused, wanting to tell her to leave first, before it became too late. But if she left, I would lose control of the field. The rift would either never open, or would open too wide and swallow too much of the earth itself. "We will be taken as well!"
"Better us be taken-" My sister responded. "Than the mortal world be lost to Them!"
We had only seconds before the rift would be complete. Smiling through the dust and wind that filled the air at my true sister, I shouted once more. "This won't last forever! Someday we'll emerge. On the other side, before we're brought back, you have to teach me this remorse thing!"
Clotho met my smile with her own, the shouts, screams, and threats of our sister, and her chosen family, washed away. "I will do that, Lachesis, and I will also teach you humor."
"I will never learn humor!" Those were the last words I spoke for centuries, as the rift opened fully, and swallowed all of us within its grasp.
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Once I finished the story, I was treated to my second open mouthed staring of the past hour. Often and Carter both looked at me in stunned silence. The dryad was the first to find her voice. "Can... I just say that I'm glad you were wrong about that last part?"
Nodding, Tavelli coughed in disbelief. "Okay. Okay well, if that's true. If that happened and all of that... is how this went down, then how are you going to trap her again? You needed the sister to do it before. And I don't think you're up to that right now anyway."
I shook my head and continued to the van. "I'm not going to trap her in time. I'm not going to open another rift. I'm going to finish the first plan. I'm going to summon her spirit, imprison it within the empty shell of Emily, and then..." I trailed off.
"And then what?" Carter caught my arm firmly. "And then what, Macbeth?"
Meeting his intense stare, I swallowed. "And then we'll decide what to do from there. But at least she'll be cut off from her power. But I need Emily's permission to do it. She wants to destroy Maisie and Micky for what they did to her. So she'll say yes. But I have to ask her anyway. It's the right thing to do." I pulled my arm away from him and pushed the door to the van open. Seeing Emily bound and gagged in the back, I let out a low sigh. "She has to understand."
Later, after I had taken the time to explain what I wanted to do and why, I still didn't know if she fully understood. She said she did, but I had my doubts. She was desperate to destroy Maisie, and I was handing her another chance to be responsible for that destruction. Did she think she was going to be able to simply stab herself in the heart once Maisie was trapped inside her body? I didn't know. Shamefully, I don't think I wanted to know. But I had her permission to try this spirit summoning, so I took it.
Tavelli continued to quietly grumble his doubts and concerns. But Often simply looked to me directly and asked. "Can you do this?"
I looked down, found my faith, and raised my gaze to hers. "Yes. I can do this."
She nodded, satisfied. "Then I've got your back."
Hugging her gratefully, I then turned back to Emily and put my hands on her shoulders. "Tavelli." I spoke tersely, quietly. "Pay attention. This **** is about to get real." Then I closed my eyes and focused. Reaching deep into the empty hole in her spirit that the creature called Icon or Micky had carved for itself, I found the opening. Then I extended my senses through the van, over the grass, and to the building that held my two sisters. I felt the fear and confusion of Clotho, knew that she didn't understand any of this. But there would be time to teach her later, time to reunite with my dearest, youngest sibling once this was done. And that arrogance, that feeling that this was simply a chore to be finished, is perhaps what doomed me.
I felt the spirit of Maisie, and knew that I didn't have a lot of time before she would know what was happening. Latching onto her power with my own, I ripped her from her mortal body, envisioning her spirit being torn loose. Pulling it as she screamed, I reeled the writhing, screaming ghostly form through the vastness of nothing that lay within the void and shoved it into the mortal shell of Emily. It was almost easy. It was almost too easy.
Breathing out, I smiled as my eyes opened. "It's... done."
My eyes met Emily's, and the other woman smiled with a voice that was many times deeper than her own. "Yes, it is." She held up both hands, and before I could register that neither was bound any longer, hit me so hard that I flew out of the van and landed hard on the pavement.
Often and Tavelli both ran to my side, as the thing that used to be Emily emerged from the van, stretching in the sunlight. I stared, terror overtaking every rational thought within my brain at what I had done.
With her hand on my shoulder, Often asked. "Macbeth! What is it? What's wrong? Did you do it? Is that her? Is that the ****?"
Standing in the shade of the van, The Thing that was not Emily any longer smiled. "Tell them, Lachesis. Tell them what you've done."
"It's not her." I answered, my voice shaking with fear that I couldn't control. "It's not Maisie, it's not Atropos. It's the thing that was inside her, the thing we wanted to destroy. It's... the Mother." I hesitated, the words almost burning my throat as I spoke them. "It's Ekhidna, the Mother of Monsters."
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The answer to the scramble (IWEKLGNNSAKAAIDHA - three words) was: Ekhidna walks Again
NEW Scramble is: IREIFRCCRIAFLCEASIT HSSE - Four Words.
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Awesome chapter man, nice work! As for the new word scramble, is one of the words Lachesis?
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Good guess, but nope, Lachesis is not one of the words. Funny that it fits though.
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Another great chapter. Now we know a lot more about Macbeth's past life! You've made it all fit together really well.
Come on, how were we supposed to get that unscrambled? :P I'll have a go at the next one anyway..
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Chapter Seventeen
"I am in blood. Stepp'd in so far that, should I wade no more, Returning were as tedious as go o'er." - Macbeth, Act III, Scene IV.
Tavelli's voice was tight. "Talk to me, what exactly is a mother of monsters?" His gun was up and held in a two handed grip, aimed at the creature that the once innocent and twice destroyed Emily had become. "She doesn't look any different." I knew what he was asking. He wanted to know if shooting her would do any good. I didn't think so, but the truth was, I had no idea. I was still reeling in shock, terrified by what I had done. Who was I to pretend I knew what was going on? I had been so utterly certain that I knew what I was doing. I had been completely confident that I could put Maisie's spirit into Emily's body. But in trying to do so, I had unleashed this thing.
The man glanced my way when I didn't answer. "Macbeth! Snap the **** out of it and tell me what this thing is!" I could see his urge to protect warring with his deeply ingrained training against shooting except in the worst cases. His brain told him that if I was this freaked out, the woman was a threat. But his eyes told him she had no weapon. He tensed when she took a step toward us. "If you don't stop--awww hell." Tavelli cursed and pulled the trigger. There was no discernible effect. He shot her again, and then a third time. I could tell he wasn't missing. It just wasn't doing anything.
Echidna stopped after the fourth shot. She wasn't hurt, she just paused right in front of the stunned policeman. Reaching out, she held the barrel of Tavelli's gun with two fingers and carefully raised it to her forehead. Then her face softened to one of child like fear, as she spoke in a voice I didn't recognize, that of a child. "Please, please help me. Please help me, don't do that, please it hurts, please, owww.... owww please!" Her voice was desperate, pleading, that of a young girl locked in terror and pain.
She was crying, and I could see tears streaming down Tavelli's face as well. Then her voice hardened and her tears vanished. "I am the Mother of Monsters, Carter Tavelli." Her hand snapped back as she took the gun from his limp fingers. "I see the darkness in men's souls and the evil they create. I see the violence..." Her voice trailed off slightly as she licked her lips as though savoring the flavor of her words. "... and the death." At her side, I could the gun turn to ashes in her grip. The ashes fell from her hand and were blown away. "Your daughter." She continued. "She went very slowly."
Carter lost it then. With a wild scream, he threw a punch at the creature that had once been Emily. His fist had no more effect than his bullets had. It looked like punching a brick wall. Echidna just smiled. Abruptly, her hand lashed out and caught him by the throat. She squeezed and her voice turned mocking. "She wanted your help, daddy. She needed your help. You were too busy. You were gone. You abandoned her. He killed her because you weren't there. You know it, your ex-wife knows it, even your daughter knew it in her last moments. Daddy wasn't coming! Daddy didn't care!"
The agony on Tavelli's face, the shame and revulsion at her words, made me scream. "Stop it! Leave him alone, you piece of ****!" I started to run at her.
I wish I could say that was what made her stop, that I actually presented some kind of threat. Of course, I didn't. But another voice called out. "Hey, ****!" Often stood near the driver's door of the van, holding the end of a chain that disappeared into the vehicle. The engine of the van was revving, as though the gas pedal was held down. "You talk too much." She threw the chain, and I could see that the end was looped, like a lasso.
The loop of chain fell around Echidna's neck, and I could see her grip on Tavelli's neck loosen slightly in realization. I kept running, changing course slightly. Screaming, "Do it, Often!" I lunged. As Often turned back to the van, I crashed into Tavelli, body slamming him out of the other woman's grip. The two of us crashed into the pavement hard, even as I heard the engine of the van roar when Often yanked the gearshift into drive. Echidna yelled as the chain immediately went taut around her neck and she was hurled backwards off her feet, dragged behind the van while it hurtled into the street. Her vicious scream of rage filled air, briefly drowning out all other sound.
I rolled off of Tavelli and sat up with a groan. "Are you okay?" When I looked at the man, he was staring up at the sky, still crying. I hesitated. "Carter?"
When he spoke, his voice was hoarse. "Becca. Becca, my daughter. She was eight. She was so little. She was so little. Why wasn't I there. Why didn't I stop him. Why didn't I save her?" His eyes closed and wet tears coarsed down his cheeks. His shame was palpable.
Often spoke up quietly. There was no mocking to her words now, not for this. "I'm really sorry, Tavelli. But we have to go. We have to get out of here because as soon as she gets out of that, Monster Mommy is going to be really pissed off. We need to back up, get a plan, and deal with this."
I nodded while pushing myself up, extending a hand to the man. I couldn't dwell on my mistake, couldn't let myself wallow in self pity for what I had brought into this world. I had to accept the mistake and do something about it. "We have to get Nine. I can't do anything against Echidna without my sister. It took both of us at the height of our power. Alone, I don't stand a chance. None of us do."
After a moment, Tavelli reached up and took my hand, hauling himself up. His voice was still hoarse. "We get the girl, and then you stop that ****."
I nodded once. This wasn't the time to express my doubts, it wasn't the time to tell him how sorry I was that I had been wrong. It wasn't the time to seek forgiveness for my mistake, for my arrogance in not taking the time to be certain of what I was doing. I had unleashed this thing on the world, and I needed help stopping her. "Yes. We'll stop her. But I need help to get her away from Micky and Maisie, Icon and Atropos, whatever."
The three of us turned to look up at the hotel where Maisie was waiting. I had no idea what was going on up there, or if anything had changed when I separated Echidna from my elder sister. In the moment of silence that followed, I felt a foreboding chill. Then Often's voice broke the quiet. "Well, Cap'n. I think we need a plan."
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"I hate this plan." Twenty minutes later, Often scowled as she kept her arms folded. We were standing on the roof of the hotel, just above Maisie's penthouse. "Come on, Mac! You and SuperCopLawman go into that dragon lair and leave me to play taxi service?" I could see her frustration. "What if something happens? I can't do anything from up here if everything doesn't go right!"
Putting my hands on the girl's shoulders, I squeezed firmly, meeting her gaze. "We need you up here, Often. We need you here. We get Nine out that window, then you catch her and use the palm tree to teleport the hell away. It's the best chance we're going to get. We have to do this. If you go in there with us, something my stop you from getting to the window. You have to keep watching, and be ready. The second you see my little sister, you get her out. I trust you. I need you to do this. Please."
After a moment, Often relunctantly nodded. I could tell being left on the roof still left a bitter taste in her mouth. "Just be careful." She glanced to Tavelli. "Both of you."
I couldn't resist poking the other girl in the stomach. "You're telling Lawman to be careful? Aww." I teased her. "You do care. You're a big old softie."
The two hundred year old dryad stuck her tongue out and raspberried me. Then she gave me a little push. "Go. Before I change my mind and run in ahead of you. Get your sister out. I'll be watching." She hesitated and then nodded. "Do what you have to do." She turned away then like it was physically painful for her to not go in there with us, and stepped to the edge of the roof, looking down toward the ground. "Hurry, before that horror comes back." It took me just a second to realize she hadn't meant it spelled that way.
Meeting up with Carter by the door of that led back into the building, I started through to the maintenance stairway. "What are you going to do without a gun?"
In answer, Tavelli reached down to his ankle and withdrew a second pistol from a holster there. "You really ought to think about carrying one of these things if you're going to insist on getting yourself into these situations." He glanced to me, his brow furrowed. "It's too dangerous to go around unarmed, even if you do heal. Your wit isn't going to stop a bullet."
Starting down the stairs, I shook my head. "I don't like them. I don't know how to use them and they just seem awkward to me. Like they're unclean or something. I don't know, but I hate them. Maybe it's my history with swords. Maybe I should start carrying one of those." I gestured back. "You know, like a katana on my back. Think I could pull that look off?"
That made Tavelli chuckle slightly. "Yeah, that wouldn't stand out at all." He stopped by the locked door labeled 'Private' that was the staff entrance into Maisie's suite, the door hotel staff came and went through to avoid using the guest elevator and in case of emergencies.
"Hey." I shrugged at him. "They get away with it in Highlander. I think it'd look cool." Producing my trusty little bump key, I held it up. "Are you ready to commit criminal tresspass, and you know, possibly die?"
He held up the pistol and ****ed the slide with a nod. "Hell yeah."
I went to work with the key, and after a couple tries, the door was unlocked. We had to move fast, because if they were in the same room as the door, they knew someone was coming in. As soon as I heard the click, I turned the knob and pushed while stepping aside. Carter went through with his pistol held up and ready. He checked ahead of him, then left behind the door and finally rotated right to clear the rest of the room, all in smooth motion. "Clear." He whispered.
Following him into the room, I looked around. We were in some kind of kitchen. There was a door leading onto the balcony to the right and another door straight ahead, past the island counter that housed a massive, high tech looking stove. An empty wine glass sat on the edge of the counter, and the shattered remains of another littered the floor along with its contents. I could guess that when I ripped Echidna out of Maisie, it had shocked the old woman into dropping the glass. Through the door to the next room, I could hear the television. I also heard Nine's voice as she asked why she couldn't go home. Then my brother's voice, hardened by Micky's presence within him, told her to shut up. We waited, but couldn't hear Maisie.
Tavelli stood to the side of the kitchen door and held up three fingers. He lowered one finger, then a second. Finally, after lowering the last finger, he shoved through the swinging door. I brought up the rear, and we were in the main living room. Nine sat in front of the enormous wall mounted television while Micky stood against the wall. The instant we came into view, the man who had stolen my brother's body started to turn with his hand extended to the pistol that sat on the table near him. But Carter brought his gun up and shook his head. "Nuh uh. Keep that hand down, boy."
"Please, I want to go home!" Nine was on her feet, looking to me pleadingly. "They said I can't leave. They said I can't see my parents! They said I'm not human!" She was lost and confused. My heart ached for my sister. It had been a harsh enough slap to my reality to be told that I wasn't human, even after everything that I had experienced. But to tell a little girl the same thing, with no context? That was just evil.
"Honey..." I stepped to the side a little bit, working my way around from behind Carter closer to the window and to the other girl. "Nine, we're going to get you out of here. We're leaving with you." I listened for Maisie, trying to determine where the woman might be. Was she on the balcony? Was she in the back bedroom? If she came into the room, would I have any way to stop her from using her power to kill Tavelli?
Noting my eyes glancing around, Micky lowered his hand away from his gun with a smirk. "She's not here, little sister. She felt what you did, what you tore away from her. Then she got pissed off and went out to find ahhh, well to find you." He wet his lips slightly before shrugging. "I don't think she was very happy with you. Actually, I don't think she was very happy at all." He laughed a little bit. "I think it's funny though. You made my one mother into two mommy's. I wonder if I'll get extra presents for Christmas. You know, like kids when their parents get divorced. I would call this something of a separation."
Tavelli kept his gun level with the other man. "Nine, you need to walk to Macbeth, right there. Just go to her, sweetie. Walk away from the bad man." His voice was gentle, but firm as he coaxed the girl. "Just don't even look at him. He's not worth looking at. Walk to Macbeth."
Micky continued to look slightly amused, though he kept his hands down. "What's the plan, huh Macbeth? Are you going to try to stop both mommies? Are you going to stick them back in time out? How's that gonna work out? You could barely pull it off before you forgot everything about yourself. And little sis doesn't remember any of it yet. She ain't gonna be much help. She's a helpless little girl. Just like you. Just like you both always were." He smiled, then chuckled. "Atropos knew better, at least. She knew she could join with Echidna, that it was the right play. And together, they produced me." He spread his arms with a smile. "With a little help from both of you, of course."
Shaking my head, I put my hand out toward my younger sister while responding to Micky, to Icon. "Atropos didn't join with Echidna for power. She joined her because she was afraid. She stands on the cusp of death and sees it in everything she does. Her entire life has always been death. So, she's terrified of it. She was too afraid of death, because she never saw life."
"No!" Micky shouted, his anger rising. "My mother was not afraid! Neither of them! They joined into the perfect being until you ****ed it up! She wasn't afraid! You are! You always were! As powerful as you are, you wield it as a coward! You are the shaper of fates! You should tell them how to live! You're a disgrace to your duty, to your soul!"
I held my hand out toward Nine, who started to move my way. "You want me to dictate people's fates?" I said, keeping my eyes on him, on my brother. No, on the creature infesting him. "Then I'll read yours! You lose, Icon! You, Atropos, and Echidna. I don't know how, but you're going to lose! That's my prediction of your fate!"
His head fell back as his laughter filled the room. "You want to see Fate?! I will show you how to direct it! I will show you the end of Destiny!" His gaze focused on Tavelli and he smiled. "Gonna shoot Macbeth's brother, officer?" During the other man's brief hesitation, Micky lashed out and grabbed the pistol. He brought it up, not toward Carter, not toward me, but at Nine, who was still only halfway to me and now frozen in terror as she looked back to the man with the gun. Icon was going to kill her. He was going to end the world, and there was nothing I could do about it.
Everything seemed to slow down as my senses went into overload. I heard the dull thud on the carpet as Tavelli's gun bounced off the floor, abandoned. I heard the soft click of Micky's trigger being pulled as the mechanism in the pistol went to work. I saw a blue glow fill the room, almost blinding. The aura of demise came not from Nine, whose death would herald the oblivion of life itself, but from another source. The glow came from Tavelli, who would not, who could not fail this girl, so close in age to his own lost daughter. His glow filled the room, and for a brief moment, I thought that it was the aura of an angel, not of mortality.
The explosion of gunpowder was almost deafening, to my ears as well as my soul. I almost thought that I could see the tiny sliver of metal as it raced toward my sister and the end of all life. But Tavelli was there. With his back to Micky, he hoisted Nine into his arms. The first bullet ripped into his lower back, near the hip and he staggered but kept moving. Then he was shot again, and a third time. Blood didn't so much spread over his shirt as explode from it. My throat felt like it was being burned from within as I screamed, hurtling myself at the assassin. I was too slow, as a fourth and then fifth shot hit Tavelli, seeking the bundled and sobbing girl he held tightly and protectively against his chest. Still Tavelli didn't stop. Even as a sixth and final round found its mark, he found his, making it to the window, which had already been blown out by one of the bullets. With a cry of both triumph and release, he hurled Nine out the window.
Simultaneously, I crashed into Micky, knocking his gun aside and both of us to the floor. As I fell, I saw Often briefly as she caught Nine, and then the two of them disappeared in a flash of green. Then I hit the floor. And there I stayed, head turned sideways as my eyes found the policeman who had just saved my sister, and the world. Carter Tavelli lay in a pool of blood next to the window. His eyes were open, but unseeing. But in his final moment, having made up for whatever fault he had thought he held in the death of his daughter, he managed to smile.
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So... yeah. There we are. The answer to the scramble (IREIFRCCRIAFLCEASIT HSSE - Four Words) was: 'Carter sacrifices his life.'
New scramble is seeeioamcscrerastdt nnh - three words.
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Ajdigniranldf. Tavelli! Aww, make it sad. Goodness, that was insane. You are a fabulous writer, Cerulean.
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Nooooo! Not Carter! :(
Great work as always man, nice to see you're still working on this.
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I was totally crushing on Carter. :-[
Nice job as always, Cerulean.
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I was totally crushing on Carter. :-[
Nice job as always, Cerulean.
Me too :P
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I'm glad you guys enjoyed the chapter. :D And yeah, the Carter death scene is probably the main reason it took me so long to get around to this chapter. I was reluctant to write it. :P
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Carter! :( can't Macbeth save him...please? That actually made me tear up..
Great as always. :)
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Chapter Eighteen
"Be this the whetstone of your sword: let grief convert to anger; blunt not the heart, enrage it." - Malcolm, Act IV, Scene III
I don't know how I made it to Carter's body. My conscious mind was gone while I crawled, dragged, or somehow forced myself to him. Or it? Was the shell that his spirit left behind still considered a him? Did it matter? Why do we live only to die? Is our mortality on this world a cruel joke, or a gift? Is there something beyond this existence where we can find our friends again? I believe there is. I must believe. Because I have friends, such as Carter Tavelli, whom I will only see in this world beyond our reality. In that world, our lost friends and family will greet us. But we cannot, we must not, hasten our journey to them. Because to do so would be a betrayal of our souls, and of their friendship.
Carter lay facedown. As I leaned over his broken shell, tears staining my vision, I felt his blood soak my hands. My fingers wandered through the warm liquid as it soaked the floor around us. I said his name once, and then again. My voice cracked. This man I had known for one day two years ago and one day just now was somehow one of the best friends that I had ever had. Because he was the first I had seen a vision of, the man who in a way started me along this path. And because he was the first man that I told the extent of my secrets to. There was a kind of symmetry there. And now he was gone.
But I couldn't accept that. Even as my hands pushed through his blood, while my tears burned jagged lines down my face, I tried to bring him back. Stretching my power through his body, I searched for some remnant of his soul, something to latch onto and pull back from the abyss. Strings of words that may have been prayers as easily as they were bitter curses rolled off my tongue as I struggled desperately to, just this one time, reach beyond my pathetic limitations and revive Carter Tavelli.
There are times that our dreams, that our hopes are answered. Times that our desperate yearnings will accomplish the impossible. But there are also times that no amount of wishing or pleading can undo what has been done. These times, as tragic and terrible as they may be, are not indicative of a Universe absent of compassion, nor of a malicious or dismissive higher being who cares nothing for our loss. I believe that beyond this life, there is another, and that we have a Creator who loves us and who cries beside us at every tragic and needless death. However, I believe this Creator gave us a gift that is simultaneously the most wonderful and most terrifying gift that has ever been given. They gave us free will. Our Creator, or Creators, whatever they may be, feel our pain and weep with us, but they will not take our free will away. Our lives on this world are ours to live. They may guide us, and give us hope, as parents do, but there are no training wheels to this life, and they can allow themselves to do pathetically little more than watch. So maybe that's who we should feel sorry for, more than the one with no power, who watches their loved ones die. It's the one with all the power, who chooses not to intervene because of the promise they gave us, the promise that our mistakes, our triumphs, and our tragedies in this life would be ours. We are shackled by mortality. They are shackled by choice, and by love.
None of these thoughts came to me while I sat with my arms around the body of Carter Tavelli. That introspection came later, with the help of others. Right then, I thought of nothing at all except for the pain I felt. There was a grunt from behind me. Micky sounded amused as he spoke. "I wonder if cops still get that full burial honors thing. Maybe his ex-wife will show up. Think they'll let her keep his badge? Think she'll bother? She couldn't stand him after what happened to their kid." He sighed contemplatively. "It's too bad really. Him dying and all. I was only going to wing the little brat, make sure she couldn't run away. Scared you though, didn't I?"
The whole time that the vile creature using my brother's body continued to speak, I kept staring at Carter's body. I lifted my hands and turned them over, looking at the man's blood soaking them. His blood was on my hands. His blood was literally on my hands. I turned, looking at the man whose hands deserved this blood. As my anger grew, I began to see the creature inside the shell, instead of my brother. He wasn't Craig right now. He was Icon. He was a vicious, evil, murdering thing. Did he mean what he said about not really shooting to kill Nine? Probably not. He was trying to make Carter's sacrifice mean less. It didn't matter anyway. What mattered was taking the vital fluid on my hands, the blood coating my fists as they clenched, and putting it where it belonged: on him.
Micky stopped behind me and said something else, but I didn't hear it over the rage boiling through me. My anger was almost a physical entity, a figure who stood both within and outside of me, pointing to Carter Tavelli's killer and demanding action. At the moment, I was in no position or inclination to deny it. I felt the scorn and utter wrongness of the being who stood close to me and mocked the death of a good man. I heard the distinct sound of a new clip being pushed into his pistol while he spoke with false concern. "Macbeth, I don't know if you've noticed, but you're all alone. Your big bad police protector isn't going to help you anymore. So, isn't this the part where you run away?"
Pulling my hands out of Carter's blood, I stood and turned. The creature wearing my brother's body held his gun level at me. I didn't care. My voice was brittle as I spoke with the certainty of biblical prophesy. "I'm not the one that's going to be running away from this."
A slight smirk pulled at the assassin's lips, and his eyes narrowed. Still I didn't move. "I guess I'm just going to have the shoot the funny after all." His finger tightened on the trigger, and time stood still. Just like with Emily, I saw what he was about to do before it happened. I saw it several times in rapid succession, each another variation. I saw his actions before he made them, so when he fired a shot so close that it whistled past my ear, I didn't even blink. I still remained unflinching as he adjusted his aim and shot past my other ear. Again, I had seen that as long as I stood perfectly still, he wouldn't hit me. He was trying to scare a girl who could see everything he was about to do before he did it.
Just as the slightest flicker of doubt crossed his face, I said quietly. "Micky, for the perfect assassin, you sure do miss a lot."
I could see the rush of prideful anger as he adjusted his aim. This time he wasn't going to miss. This time he would shoot me in the stomach and watch while I bled out, taunting my brother whose body he had claimed right to my last breath. I saw it happen, but that wasn't the fate that I chose. Instead, as he aimed, I jerked my body to the left. The bullet blew through the back of one of the stools next to the minibar. Micky kept moving the pistol smoothly. He was a born killer, an assassin of unbelievable skill. There was no way he'd keep missing. No way that an ordinary girl would continue to make a mockery of him.
But I wasn't an ordinary girl. I was the kind of girl who could choose to put herself precisely where she needed to be. As Micky attempted to bring his gun back in line with me, I lashed out with my foot, connecting with the room service cart laden with fruits. The cart slammed into the man, knocking the pistol from his grip as he cursed. He half turned as though to grab the gun as it landed on the floor before realizing his mistake. By then it was too late, because without his gun between us, there was no reason for me to hold back. Even as he started to turn back, my fist, coated in the life essence of Micky's newest victim, connected with his face.
There's something that movies don't tend to remind you of very much in the midst of their bareknuckle beat downs. That truth is that punching someone hurts. Punch someone as hard as you can, especially if you're not used to it, and you might hurt yourself as much as them. Even as Micky was thrown sideways into the cart, I felt the harsh pain shoot through my knuckles. I didn't care. Not only that, I welcomed the pain. I had failed. I let a good man die. I deserved the pain. But the vile, disgusting creature in front of me deserved it more, and I was perfectly willing to give it to him.
Screaming in anger, enraged that I had struck him, Micky kicked the cart away. A vicious smile pulled at his face, crazed and violent. It wasn't my brother's face. I had to tell myself that, even as the creature lashed at me. He was unbelievably fast. I barely saw the hit coming, couldn't even focus on it, before it knocked me sprawling onto the floor. I rolled over and saw the man spit blood while smirking at me. "Lucky hit. But where's your precognition now, you stupid little ****?" His hand grabbed my ankle in an iron handed grip and yanked me to him while he brought his other fist down toward my face in a blow that would, even at the very optimistic end of the spectrum, shatter my nose.
Even as I jerked my head to the side, I felt Micky's fist hit the floor with a painful crack. Instantly, before he could move again, I brought both fists up and boxed him as hard as I could against both ears. The sub-human thing bellowed in agony even as I shoved backwards and to my feet. As much as I wanted to rip that foul little thing out of my brother and condemn it to the darkest pits of hell, I had to catch my breath. I had to be ready for him.
"What's the matter?" I asked him, breathing hard. "Is my precognition kicking your ass, or are you just looking for a contact lens?" In tragedy as well as anger, I turn to comedy. I joke as I grieve, and as I rage.
Pushing himself up, ears obviously still ringing from the blow, Micky came out me without another word. That was okay, I was done talking too. Somehow while he was recovering on the floor, the man had grasped a knife from the overturned food service cart. Now he brought it in fast in a quick jab toward my stomach. But I was focused. I saw it coming before he even made the move. I saw the ways that he killed me with it. But I also saw how I avoided it, and simply chose that reaction. As the knife was thrust toward me, I caught a discarded metal tray off the end table and brought it up between us. The force of the blow shoved the knife blade through the metal tray, but stopped there short of hitting me. With a quick twist of the tray, I was able to get the knife out of the assassin's hand and fling both items aside.
He screamed inarticulately, bellowing so hard I could feel his spittle. "Shut up and ****ing die you pathetic little blonde piece of ****!"
His fist came in hard and fast, but I was ready. By the time he got around to punching, I had read the book, seen the movie, and posted my own thoughts on the attack's shortcomings online. My arm blocked his blow at the elbow, and I slapped his face with my other hand. "See, now I know you're not my brother. He came up with more creative insults than that. And he punched harder too."
The enraged, wild attacks that followed left me no time, and no breath, for witty commentary. Even with my powers, even seeing the strikes before they came, he was just so fast. I couldn't carefully analyze the best action to take, I just had to latch onto one and struggle to stay ahead of him. He forced me to continue to back up, into the kitchen. Every time I blocked or dodged one attack, the next three were screaming for attention through my head. If he hadn't been completely out of his mind, I believe he could have beaten or killed me, powers or not. If it kept up much longer, I'd be dead anyway because he was just plain stronger than I was and the muscles in my arms were already screaming in pain.
I had to find a way to end this. A way that didn't involve my being stabbed, shot, or strangled, preferably. I couldn't look around, because all of my attention had to be on Micky, just to survive his relentless assault. I could see what he was going to do before he did it. It still nearly wasn't enough. In a second or two, I was going to make a mistake. And then I'd be dead, just like Carter.
That thought gave me just a little more anger, a little more focus. As the fury coursed through me, it awakened something, a memory of myself. I was a warrior. I saw what to do, and I knew how. The next time he punched at my stomach, I didn't just block it off my arm. Instead, I turned aside and caught his wrist with my left hand. Instantly, I shoved my thumb against his vein and twisted the wrist, drawing a howl of pain from the man. While he screamed, I slammed my other forearm into his face.
He staggered as I let go of his wrist. Before he could recover, I used the palm of both hands, clenched into fists, to hit him against both eyes, briefly blinding him. Here's the thing, you get a lot of power from your legs. Kicking someone will do a lot of damage. The problem is, if they block it, or grab your leg, or kick your other one, you're screwed. But, if they can't see it coming, it makes it rather difficult to defend themselves. For that two seconds, Micky was blinded from the attack on his eyes. He never saw the kick coming, but he felt it when it connected solidly. I almost felt bad. Those were technically my brother's family jewels. For future reference, even a millenia old emobidiment of evil created for the purpose of destruction screams like a little girl when you rack them.
Turning away from him as he fell to his knees, I lunged to the floor. By the time Micky opened Craig's eyes to look at me through them, I had his gun pointed at him. I breathed hard and demanded. "Get the hell out of my brother, you son of a ****." I would have shouted, would have screamed at him, but I didn't have the energy. It was all I could do to keep the pistol up and pointed at him. The barrel shook slightly, but I focused.
Grimacing as he clutched the counter for support, still half doubled over, Micky shook his head at me. "You won't kill your brother. You can't."
"No." I agreed, panting. "But I could live with the guilt of hitting him in the leg." It was stupid in retrospect. I should have just shot him there without saying what I was going to do. As I have tried to make as clear as possible, precognition does not provide the same 20/20 vision that hindsight does.
As soon as I finished saying that, Micky bolted. Either he wasn't as injured as he had been pretending to be, or he had a burst of energy. Either way, he was out of my line of fire almost instantly. I tried to adjust, but he was already at the door, the same one that and through it a second later. I wanted to chase him, but I had no more energy to do so. As soon as I heard his footsteps on the stairs, I turned and moved through the other door back to the living room, back to where Carter was.
Tears stung my vision once more, even as all I could see of him was his legs. I had failed. My voice quivered as I whispered. "I'm sorry. Carter, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry." The words I said, my apologies, my pleas, it all meant nothing.
I was so exhausted and pained that I didn't actually feel the vision coming on. In one blink, I was watching Carter's unmoving legs, and in the next, I was somewhere else entirely. I was someone else entirely.
The room was dark, and smelled like booze and drugs. Several bodies, sleeping I hoped, littered the floor. The tv was on to some cartoon show and muted. This was every crackhouse in every city. Far off, upstairs maybe, a couple screamed at each other. The doorbell rang through the gloom, prompting one of the bodies to mumble something about shutting the **** up.
The person whose eyes I was looking through dropped a beer bottle on the already littered floor and stood. We moved to the front door and pulled it open. Immediately, I wished we could close it again. Because the person on the other side was Echidna, wearing Emily's shell. She smiled brightly. "Hello, is this 322 Hummingbird Plaza?"
We grunted an affirmative and leaned against the doorjam to ask the woman what she wanted. Our eyes traveled down her body and back up again. In reply, Echidna smiled. "Oh good. I was looking for the nearest cesspit of immorality. I prefer to work with better clay than those pesky mortals with standards and humanity." Before the man I was seeing this through could work that out through the thick haze that dulled his brain to the point of near coma, she reached out and grabbed him by the forehead.
Now my vision swung around to show me the strung out druggy himself. He stood frozen while Echidna pushed her hand against his forehead. While she whistled calmly, a spot of black stone grew in that spot, and rapidly began to spread out over the rest of his body. Within seconds, the man was entirely encased in what looked like obsedian. His eyes were a dull red color. He wasn't a statue though, because as Echidna took her hand away, he moved, looking at himself.
With a smile, Echidna pointed. "Come, servant, let us make you some more friends." The stone covered man, the gargoyle, stepped backwards to let her in willingly. She passed through the doorway, and into the nest of filth.
The mother of monsters was making monsters.
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Scrabble was: seeeioamcscrerastdt nnh which comes out to 'Echidna creates monsters'
New scrabble is aeneshocmsdiasirbib a Also three words.
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Nice fight scene :D
And from what I've heard, it's difficult to beat stone. Ooh.
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Packed full of action and emotion...well done! :)
I'm still pining over poor Carter :( I tried to make your last word scrabble into something like 'carter is alive'..but obviously couldn't haha.
Nice work :)
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Too tired to think of anything specific to comment on, but awesome work as always!
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Chapter Nineteen
"I have no spur To prick the sides of my intent, but only Vaulting ambition, which o'erleaps itself And falls on the other." - Macbeth, Act I, Scene VII
"Sister Artemis bless, I'm sorry, Macbeth." Often looked pained as she held both of my shoulders. "I should have been there. I should have helped you, helped him." Her face, which in the short time I had known her, had always been mirthful and mischivious, was tight with regret at the moment. "I never should have left you two alone in there."
It had taken me about fifteen minutes to force myself to leave Carter's body behind at the penthouse. I couldn't take him with me, and I didn't know if whatever was stopping the police from showing up and kicking the door down after the explosion of violence that had ripped through the place would last. Even in my state of grief, I knew I couldn't let myself be found next to the body of a policeman. holding the gun that had killed him. I hated myself for it, but I walked away from him, stopping in the lobby to tell the clerk that I'd heard gunshots on the top floor, then bolted when he told me to stay. Maybe it was stupid, but I wanted the other police to get there before Maisie came back. I wanted them to take Carter's body.
Once I was out of the building, it took a few minutes to cross over to the park where we were all suposed to meet up, under one of the stone bridges. There, I had found Often standing against the rock wall while keeping Nine out of sight in the shadows. From all the graffiti and the smell, the place was a favorite gang hangout. It looked like they'd been around as recently as a few minutes earlier, but now the place was empty. Often's self satisfied look and the little bit of blood that she had to flick off her knuckles as I approached didn't leave a whole lot to that mystery.
As soon as I approached, she had known something was wrong. She stopped in the middle of an insolent comment about my being faster than the middle aged cop, and then her entire body winced as I had begun to explain. It took a few minutes, because I had to stop and start as my voice broke, but eventually I told her everything about what happened to Carter.
Now, in the face of her repeated apologies, I shook my head. "You had to get Nine out of there, Oft. You had to protect her. We knew the risks. We knew what could happen." My voice cracked then. "I just--I just want to go back. I want to tell him not to go in. I want to tell him to be faster, to duck, to... I don't know." I was momentarily blinded by a wash of tears. Because our soul, the part of us that feels and cares, does not always, or even often, listen to reason and logic. I knew that I had to focus on stopping Maisie, Micky, and now Echidna. But my friend was dead, and all I wanted to do was curl into a ball and cry.
I felt Often's arms wrap tight around me, her stability allowing me to lose my own for a short time. Slumping against her, feeling all of the weight and the pressure that pressed upon me like the world upon Atlas, I stopped being the strong one for a few minutes. I lost myself and just cried. My body shook as I poured every bit of shock, outrage, fury, disbelief, horror, sorrow, and guilt out through my tears. For those few minutes, I collapsed with no strength of my own, all of it given over to the loss of Carter Tavelli. But though I collapsed, I did not fall. Because Often held me up, as all true friends will do when you are lost and cannot stand on your own. She didn't speak, didn't try to console me with platitudes or vague understandings. All she did was hold me up and let me cry against her shoulder.
At some point, another presence joined us. I felt small hands encircle my waist, and looked down to see Nine there. She looked frightened, sad, and confused. "I'm sorry about the policeman, about Mr. Tavelli." I guessed that Often had been talking to her about us. "I'm sorry. I don't know why I'm here. I think I know you. I think you're really important, but I don't know why. And I don't know why I can't go home, or why everything bad is happening. But I think I trust you. I think I know I can. So please, will you please tell me why I can't go home? Please tell me why this is happening."
As I stared down into my sister's eyes, I had no idea what to tell her. My throat caught and I flinched, trying to understand where to begin with this kind of story. Or even if I should. Would she remember on her own? Was there a chance of allowing her to live a normal life. How could I subject a child to this kind of pressure? Before I could say anything, Often spoke in a soft voice. "If we deserve anything in this life, it's the truth."
Her words made me close my eyes. She was right. It wasn't my responsibility to decide what parts of the truth Nine could and couldn't handle. It wasn't any more right to edit the world into nothing but sunshine and rainbows than it is to present an image of perpetual evil behind every corner. All I could do, in good faith, was present the world as it is, with its beauty and its terror, and show my sister why it is this world's unbelievable beauty and humankind's majesty that makes it worth standing against the very real evils that haunt it.
Keeping my eyes closed until most of my tears had passed and I could trust myself to speak once more, I finally opened them and looked to Nine again. She was a beautiful child, and I felt an immense wave of pride for her that was not something new, but a feeling from very long ago that was just beginning to be reawakened. Releasing Often's shoulders, I leaned down and put my arms around the small girl. "Oh baby. Nine. I've got a whole new world to tell you about."
I told my sister a very short version of what was happening, of what we were. The truth was, I wanted to talk to Nine for hours, just explaining to her everything that I knew, but there wasn't time. I only had one lead on where Echidna was, and no idea of what to do if and when I could even track her down. The best that I had been able to manage in top shape had been a simple delaying action. Even if I wanted to duplicate that trick and run through this whole thing again in a couple thousand years, I wouldn't know where to start. Besides, I had needed Nine's help then, and she knew even less than I did now. To have any less of an actual plan, we'd have to call Maisie up and ask her what she'd like us to do next.
Regardless, lack of information or forethought has never really stopped me from truly ridiculous moves before, and I didn't see why it should now. Before I knew the truth of my origin, of my powers, I had survived by the skin of my teeth from moment to moment. Where I had no skill, I had wits. Where I had no plan, I had perseverance. My life is an odyssey of the impossible. The bad guys can have their ultimate power, because I have something better. I have faith. Not only in a higher power than ourselves, but in my friends, in humanity. I will give this world all that I can, all that I have, in faith that if the day comes that it's not enough, someone else will hold my slack. We as a people are capable of leaving aside the weakness of flesh and form, rising into a barrier of human spirit that will turn aside all darkness and cast a light into the demon's despair so that all may see the truth of their inadequacy.
And that faith, that pure belief in the eventual triumph of humanity if everyone who can help, does help, is what made me keep moving. It's what made me keep trying, no matter how many mistakes I made. As much as I believed that I had failed, there was work to do. It wasn't time to wallow in grief, or grief disguised as self-pity. What happened to Carter Tavelli was an unforgivable tragedy, but if I allowed myself to let his death hold me, if I let grief engulf and control my soul, there would be no turning back. I would give up. And if I gave up, I'd leave three of the worst monsters the world had ever known running around free.
As we walked away from the bridge, I held Nine's hand tightly and looked toward Often. "We can't take her with us. But I can't leave her alone either. And the police are probably looking for her by now."
Squinting up at me, Nine asked innocently. "Am I kidnapped?" She sounded for all the world like she was asking if she could take the puppy for a walk, or something equally innocuous. She paused before adding with equal curiosity. "Does that mean I don't have to do math anymore?"
I shook my head. "Why wouldn't you have to do math?"
Nine gave a slight shrug. "If I'm kidnapped, all I have to do now is talk in the phone and say, 'mommy and daddy, please send a million dollars to this address. And a pizza.'. And you don't need math to do that. Or science, can I stop doing science too?" I stared at her in incredulity until a smile peeked at the corners of the girl's mouth and she giggled just a little bit. The ability of a child to bounce away from tragedy is one of great wonders of the universe.
Often's stomach growled audibly and she raised a hand. "Pizza. I like the way this girl thinks. Come on, I know just the place, and I know someone who can watch her." She nodded in response to my doubting look. "It's all right, we can trust him. He's one of the greatest warriors I've ever seen."
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"Often, just out of curiosity, how many warriors have you seen?" I asked the dryad as we stood in the front lobby of a small private pizza parlor watching a grease stained man with a shiny bald head and a pot belly hauling one of his cheese drenched pies out of the oven. "When you said we were coming to a pizza parlor to see a great warrior, I was kind of hoping for something of the teenage mutant ninja variety. Not.." I finished by ****ing my head in the man's direction while he expertly sliced the pizza into eighths and slide it down the counter to the waiting couple, the only others in the parlor. The two took their pizza and walked past us to leave through the door.
For her part, Nine immediately turned traitor on me and bolted toward the counter, commenting. "His pizza smells good!"
Shrugging, Often gave me a little push. "Trust me, she'll be safe here. Laderbie won't let anything happen to her." She raised a hand to the man and called out. "Lad!" With an easy smile, she sauntered that way. "Hey you big dumb thug." The words were said with the same kind of affection one would have when speaking kindly to a dear friend. Shaking my head, I followed the ravenous duo to the counter.
Somehow, the man did look a little more like a warrior up close. His arms were enormous, with muscles that strained the fabric of his grease stained uniform. He wasn't a young man by any means, but neither was he decrepit. The best word I could think for him was solid. The man was a tree trunk. It would take something akin to a Sherman tank to make this man budge once he set his feet, and even in that case I wouldn't want to be the poor driver of said tank.
As soon as we drew close enough, the man let out a jovial laugh and stepped around the counter. "Often!" His voice boomed dramatically, rattling the windows. "How good to see you, girl! You don't come here nearly often enough, no matter what your name says!" The large man hauled Often all the way off the ground as he wrapped his meaty arms around her in a crushing bear hug. "Aha!" He near shouted with delight, causing a few car alarms to go off down the street. "Is this her then?!"
He indicated me, and Often nodded, breathing once the man mountain finally released her. "Yeah, this is Macbeth. Mac, this is Laderbie Hunch. He's been my friend pretty much forever."
I started to put a hand out to the man, to shake, but he simply caught it and dragged me closer to give me some of the same treatment that Often got. I felt part of my spine realign as most of my breath was crushed out of me under the force of his hug. "I love what you're doing! You're a real brave girl!" I believe it was only my lack of oxygen that prevented my ear drum from manifesting the requisite legs to run away from this booming voice.
Struggling to breath, I raised my hands and awkwardly patted the man's shoulders. Finally, he released me and I sucked in air. "I--" Stopping to take in a few more breaths, I finally continued. "Can you please watch this girl, sir, and keep her safe? I know it's a lot to ask, but--"
Laderbie cut me off with a massive booming laugh. "Ha!" Somewhere, a seismograph was probably registering minor aftershocks miles away. "I know what you've done for people, girl. Asking me for help ain't no kind of imposition. It's an honor. The girl'll be safe here, I swear it."
After thanking the booming man, I glanced over to see Nine and Often already sharing a pizza that had been left on the counter. The two of them were chatting like old friends. Briefly, I considered asking if she wanted to call her parents to tell them she was all right. But she was doing okay right now, and there was no way to be sure they wouldn't find her, or that Maisie didn't have someone spying on them, ready to snatch the girl up. I promised myself I'd get Nine back to her parents somehow, and stepped over to her. "Hey, sweetie, Often and I have to go, okay? You'll be safe here, just do what Mr. Hunch says."
Nine swallowed the food she was chewing and reached out, smearing a bit of the red sauce on my cheek. "Be careful, Macbeth. They're really bad people." Her voice was solemn, much more so than the average young girl's. "Very bad." A moment after this, she smiled, just as almost any child would when seated before all this pizza. "You should eat something first!" Her hand took one of the slices from the tray, and then Often slipped a napkin around it before passing it to me.
"Uhh, before you go..." The large, loud man was slightly quieter now. He picked up a remote for the television in the corner and turned it on. All of us turned to see a reporter outside the same Taco Bell where Emily had held us hostage. At first I didn't understand why we were watching this, and then Laderbie turned the volume up.
On screen, the reporter at the restaurant continued solemnly. "Although authorities have not released the name of the girl whom witnesses claim was shot and miraculously healed, or her family, a few of the others who lived through this ordeal were willing to speak with us." The scene then cut through several of the people from the restaurant, all claiming that the little girl had been shot, was bleeding all over the floor, was dying until a young woman put her hands on her and saved her. My description varied by each person. Most were close, a couple right on, and a couple others were so far off I wondered briefly if I had been wearing some kind of disguise without realizing it.
After intercutting the various interviews together to get the full effect, the reporter on scene was back. "Mass hallucination, or actual miraculous event? Will we ever know what really happened inside?" He gestured grandly back toward the restaurant. "If this person is real, will we ever see her again? I'm Jim Walters saying, I hope so."
Laderbie cut the tv off just as the anchor at the station reported that they were going back to speak with the parents of the missing local girl. I cast a glance toward Nine, who was happily eating her food while drawing something on the back of a paper take-out menu. Whatever it took, I had to get her back to her parents. I had to make it safe for her to go home.
"Great." I said softly. "At least they don't have a full description of me. But once they calm people down and sort out their stories, this is going to be complicated."
Often snorted and shrugged. "Babe, you're not exactly the only young petite blonde with a pony tail in the world. Besides, if you want to go incognito, you could always change your hair color. I'm thinking sky blue for you. Or violet!"
I blanched and held up my hands, still holding the pizza slice. "No no, I'm good. It's okay. I like my hair just the way it is, thank you." I thanked Laderbie once more and hugged Nine, making her promise to do what the man said, and then Often and I left the small restaurant. We had work to do.
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By the time the two of us arrived at the steps to the house that I had seen in my vision, I knew it was too late. The house was quiet and dark. The front door stood open, inviting toward the shadow draped interior. It could easily be a trap, and we'd be stupid to just walk inside. Common sense said to stay the hell away from that house. I glanced toward Often and then started to the door anyway. If I'd had any common sense left, I'd still be in school.
Often followed close behind, and we carefully stepped into the house. It looked just like I remembered, minus all the people. The place was void as void of life now as it had been of morality and purity earlier. A heavy silence hung in the air, and I felt the fear that permeated the house like a tangible web.
We had only gone a few steps inside when a voice spoke up from the nearby kitchen. "Hello, Miss Bethy." Maisie sat at the kitchen table, with a cup of coffee beside her. "I've been waiting for you. You took long enough."
"Correction, we've been waiting for you." From within the kitchen, Echidna stepped into view and stopped beside the other woman. "We have a lot to talk about, little girl. Where is the third one of you?"
Trying not to flinch, I straightened and replied with forced casualness. "She had a lot of homework, so I didn't let her come out and play."
Frowning at that, Echidna pointed to me. "I want that girl. I need all three of you. You'll tell me where she is." Her pronouncement was as certain as a man predicting heat in an Arizona summer. "Don't let them leave." The last sentence confused me until I looked around to see shadowy forms gathered around the doorways of the living room where we stood, cutting off any retreat. I couldn't see the forms very well, but I could tell that they were all changed, all different like the first man that I had seen altered by Echidna. They were monsters.
Refusing to show how vulnerable I knew we were, I looked back to Echidna. "If you've got a message for my sister, I'll be glad to pass it along to her."
The mother of monsters smiled with Emily's face. "Sure. You pass her a message. You tell her that I am going to take all three of the Moirai, and absorb you. Your power and strength will be mine, and when I'm done, the power of Fate, the thread of the universe itself, will be my toy. I am as a god now, and with the power of Fate, I will be as beyond them as humankind is beyond common swamp slugs."
Maisie was on her feet, turning toward the other woman. "No. We had a deal. We made our deal eons ago. I help you, and nothing happens to me. I keep my body."
Turning a sweet smile to the deceptively older looking woman, Echidna replied casually. "Honey, I hate to spoil the surprise, but I'm a liar." Her hand shot out and caught Maisie by the forehead, while her other hand stopped the woman's wrist in midpoint, preventing her from trying to use her power. "Let's just say, I think it's your turn to be on the inside for awhile."
Maisie screamed, and I felt her spirit leave her body and enter the other woman. I felt Echidna's surge of power, and of triumph. She chuckled with dark delight. "I feel it! The power of destiny! The power of Fate! The End of life! Death fills my form!" Her laugh filled the air and haunted my soul. The Mother of Monsters had taken one third of the hand of Fate, and if it had been impossible to stop her before, we now had no chance at all.
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The answer to the last scramble was: aeneshocmsdiasirbib a = Echidna absorbs Maisie
Next word scramble is rscoidonesiteyd - Three words
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Eeeesh this is creepy...
Way to go, Cerulean! I can't wait for the next installment!
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Thanks, Marie! Okay, guy, I originally posted the first 2 chapters of this on August 5th, 2009. There are 3 chapters to go in this book. I'd like to pull out everything I can to finish it within that timeframe. That gives me about 10 days, which means about 1 chapter every 3 days. Wish me luck, please. I'm gonna need it.
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Whoa! That's a lot of writing! You can do it, though! You rock :D
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Good luck Cerulean! Fantastic work as always and looking forward to seeing the rest! :)
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i loved it :) u can do it! You'll have to put it all together when its done
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Great story! I'm loving it, especially the cliffhanger endings.
Good luck getting it done; I'm sure you can do it!
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Thanks, you guys! Here we go, the home stretch. The first of the three remaining chapters. Two more after this.
Chapter Twenty
"So foul and fair a day I have not seen." - Macbeth, Act I, Scene III
"Well gee," Often commented with a straight face even as Maisie's body hit the floor. "I thought we were here to deal with two unholy ****es. Now there's only one of them." I could see beyond her words by now, enough to know that she was just as freaked as I was. Like me however, she understood that there was no benefit to letting Echidna know that. Her lips twitched in the slightest bit of a smile. "Maybe I should let you deal with this one, Mac. I wouldn't want to hog all your glory."
"Oh thanks." I muttered back at her before focusing on the woman by the table in the next room. She hadn't moved yet, but then, she didn't need to. Every exit in the house was covered by her hideous freakshow. "I can't say I'm sorry to see Maisie go down." It was surprisingly easy to keep my voice steady, considering everything that was happening. Not that I wasn't afraid. I was terrified. The creature before me was so powerful that the eldest Moirai had been afraid of her, and seemingly for good reason. "But couldn't you have done something about Icon while you were at it?"
Echidna made her host's shoulders shrug. "I'm afraid that the creature born of the blood of the Fate's is too important to me at the moment. However, if you'd like to surrender yourself and your sister, and avoid delaying the inevitable, I will allow you to witness his destruction as soon as he is no longer useful."
"Ooh, tempting." I commented, trying not to take a step away from her. I had to stay exactly where I was, as close to Often as possible. "But if you think I'm telling you where Nine is, you're wrong."
The Mother Of Monsters smiled with Emily's face. "You don't have to tell me. I see the darkness through your fear, Lachesis. You're afraid..." She raised her hand, the one that had gripped Maisie's forehead, and turned it over. "... of that happening to you. Don't be. Atropos and I are now one. There is no reason to fear unity. Soon, everything you know will be what I know. And soon after that, the youngest Fate will join her sisters. Then there will be nothing for anyone to fear, because they will have no fate but what I tell them to. Their births, their lives, and their deaths will all be exactly what I allow. Every life in this world will be perfect, because they will know nothing else." She took a step away from the table toward us. "Make it easy, Lachesis. Do not struggle."
"Yeah, well." I said with a put upon sigh. "You see, the thing about that is, I have this life insurance policy. I know, they get you with the premiums. But they have this fine print that says if I ever stop struggling they can cancel my policy and it's just a pain in the ass to restart those things. So, if you don't mind, I'm just going to have to keep being a pain in the ass. Pfft, legalese." I produced Micky's gun from my pocket and held it for her to see. "I'm sure you understand."
While I held the gun, Echidna chuckled under her breath. The gun wasn't anything for her to worry about. She took another step out of the kitchen and into the living room. "I am glad that you can still joke, Lachesis. It means you've grown. Now, let me see how funny you can be." She was eight feet away now, raising her hand casually. We weren't going anywhere.
"You like jokes?" I asked, raising Micky's pistol. "Tell me if you've heard this one before." Without further warning, I turned partway and raised the gun. But I didn't shoot at Echidna, or at any of her monsters. Instead, I aimed for the glass of the large window next to the front door. One shot blew the window out, and, even as the noise of shot filled the room, I shouted over it. "Often!"
As we had planned before even entering this house, in response to my shout, Often stretched both hands out toward the broken window and then jerked them across her body to the other side, as though she were flinging something. I saw Echidna's gaze flick that way just as the window was blocked out. An instant later, what remained of the glass was shattered through as a rush of grass and dirt flew through the opening like a sideways cave-in. The entire front lawn and a good portion of the earth under it responded to Often's call by hurling itself through the open window where it buried the startled Echidna as well as her monsters. The screams of rage that filled the room shook the foundation, but it was too late. The earth completely filled the living room, all the way up to the ceiling, except the little spot where Often and I stood with a small path to the window.
Even as the dirt started to shift, the pink haired dryad pushed her hands against it. Quickly, the dirt hardened until it was nearly as hard as stone. Still, it slowly began to crack. She looked back to me. "Won't hold her, or the rest of them for long."
I nodded. "It'll hold long enough. We found out what we came for. Icon's important enough to her to keep alive. That means we want to get rid of him. Let's go!" I turned and ran straight for the window. Often followed and a second later we were outside the house. I had to stop for a moment to whistle. "Damn, Oft. When you said you could dump the yard on them, I didn't expect this." All that remained of what had been the front yard was an eight foot deep hole over the entire front half of the property.
"What can I say?" Often smiled and stretched her arms lazily over her head. "I aim to exceed expectations." Holding her hand out, the girl high fived me. "But damn, girl, we are good!" She glanced over her shoulder as there was a crash from within the house. "****. Sooner than I thought. Come on!" She started to run around the hole and down the sidewalk, and I followed right on her heels. The bellow of rage from within the house shook me to my core, and I knew it wasn't going to be as easy to put one over on the Mother of Monsters again.
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A few minutes later as we turned the corner of another street and kept walking, I asked. "So this fortune teller. You really think she'll be able to track down Micky using his gun?" We were walking along a street filled with outdoor cafes and tee shirt shops. I didn't think that Echidna could follow us that easily, but I wanted to keep moving. Momentum was good. As long as I had that, I didn't have to think about other things.
"He." Often corrected me, as she stopped next to a hot dog cart and ordered four of their footlongs. After paying the man, she passed one of them to me before unwrapping the first of hers. "And tracking a person by their property is his specialty. If the gun means anything to the little homicidal prick, Keiran will track him. He might not want to, but he owes me a favor. Mmm, I love vendor hot dogs."
"You love food, period." I smiled a little bit as I watched her start on the second wrapped dog. "Is there anything you don't like to eat?"
Often thought about the question all the way through her second hot dog and partway through the third. Finally, she nodded. "Yes, boiled carrots. I don't like those. Carrots should be hard and crunchy, not soft and smooshy. It's unnatural." She raised her hand and gestured to accompany her point. "Not that I won't eat them if they're there. But I sure won't be as happy about it as I am eating crispy Bugs Bunny carrots."
That made me chuckle. "Bugs Bunny carrots. What's your favorite Looney Tune?"
"Tasmanian Devil." She answered without hesitation, crumpling her wrappers and dropping them neatly in a large green trashcan as we waited by a corner for the light to change. When we started to cross, she asked. "Let me guess, you're a Bugs girl."
"Nope." I nudged her and shook my head. "Daffy's my guy. Err, duck. I always thought Bugs was kind of a jerk for not sharing the spotlight. Of course, I'm weird, I also wanted Wile to catch the Roadrunner. The poor guy was just hungry."
"Oh, that I can sympathize with." Often responded with a smile before raising her hand to point. "This building." She pointed to a small, unmarked storefront. There was nothing to indicate what sort of business was conducted there, and the sign on the door was flipped to closed. There was enough dust on it for me to make a reasonable guess that it had never actually been turned the other way. Apparently, Often's fortune teller friend wasn't the type to advertise.
"You sure he's home?" I asked, trying to peer through the heavily tinted glass of the window.
"Yeah." Often said, reaching out for the door to push it open. "He doesn't really go many places."
As we stepped inside, I heard a bell over the door. Immediately, a voice shouted from the back of what appeared to be an average empty store, with empty counters and display cases and an open cash register. "Get the hell out of here! You hear me, there's nothing here for you, ****ing ****roaches! Get out of my building and out of my life!"
The voice was so furious that I reflexively took a step back, but Often put a hand on my shoulder. "Good thing I didn't promise my friend polite company, Keiran!"
In response, I heard electric whirring for a moment, and then a wheelchair buzzed through the doorway that led to the back of the store. The man in the chair had skin that was almost as dark as thick coffee. His eyes were a startling blue that captured my gaze as soon as he appeared. He seemed to be in his late twenties, but an aura and demeanor of hard bitterness surrounded him so thoroughly that he came off as much older. Hell, for all I knew, he was seven hundred and thirty. From now on, I shouldn't try to judge anyone's age unless there's a birthday cake so I can count candles. I tried to look friendly. He didn't have the same inclination. "Who the **** is this?" The man demanded while stopping the chair next to one of the empty counters. "What does she want?"
"Umm." I started to step forward, extending a hand to the man. "Good evening, sir. My name is--"
"Yeah whatever." He ignored my outstretched hand to look pointedly at Often. "Why'd you come here? I told you not to bother me again. I don't get involved in this **** anymore." He barely gave a second for Often to start to respond before cutting her off. "Forget it, I don't care. Just go. Just take your new friend, and whatever little problems she has, and get out of my store before someone sees you. And close the door behind you. I don't need to hear all the dumbasses running around outside all night like it's the god damn Fourth of July."
The man tilted the control pad on the chair and started to roll backwards back to the doorway he'd come through. Often didn't let him get that far. Stepping forward, she put her finger on the control to stop the chair. "Keiran, let me get three words in edgewise." She ticked them off on her fingers. "You. Owe. Me." When the man started to shake his head, she poked him in the chest with each repeated word. "You. Owe. Me. You want three more words? Taft Lincoln Motel."
The angry man held her gaze with his own glare for a moment, but gave up eventually. He let out a long suffering sigh. "Okay, fine. Your friend wants an object read, right? What, she's trying to find an ex-boyfriend or something?"
"No." I said, deciding to speak up for myself. "I need you to tell me where the man this belongs to is." I took the gun from my pocket and passed it over to him carefully. Often had assured me that what mattered with this guy's ability was the spirit, not the physical body. The gun belonged to Micky, so he should be able to track him.
Keiran's eyes actually opened slightly wider in the barest expression of surprise, but he took the gun without comment. For a moment, he turned the gun over in his hands as though contemplating it. Finally, he passed it back to me. "Your guy's in the cemetary on Glenwood. Doesn't seem like he's going anywhere."
I blinked as he handed the gun over. "That was quick. Are you su--"
He cut me off with a raised finger. "Finish that sentence and I'll back hand you from this chair. So sorry, I decided to forego the usual smoke and flashing lights **** for once. Just do what you need to do and get out of my store." He turned the control pad to spin the chair so his back was to us and began to roll to his back room. "And whatever you're up to, leave me the hell out of it!"
I noticed Often looking after the man with an expression that was a mix of frustration and sadness. She shook it off a second later and looked back to me with her usual ****y grin. "All right, babe. We've got a location. Let's go catch us an unkillable lunatic death assassin demonic ghost."
"Well, when you put it that way." I made a face at her even while we headed for the door. "Can we just stay here for the pleasant company and conversational opportunities?"
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An angel adorned the wrought iron gates that led to the cemetery grounds. The metallic sculpted figure held a horn to its lips as though sounding the call to battle even as its wings swept back behind it dramatically. It's other hand held the sword in its sheath, and it was there, at the junction of hand and hilt, that the handle to open the gate was. Opening the gate split the angel from the top of his horn, as though silencing it.
There were other entrances, but according to Often, this was the most discreet and little used way in. When I moved through the gate, I could see why. Most of the graves in this area had to be at least eighty years old. Not many people left to regularly visit this side. The newer graves were down the hill. Up here, trees cast shadows over everything during the day. That was obviously creepy enough then, but in the darkness that had come with the night, the effect made my skin crawl. This was not a happy place. And you know what? The fact that I was there to confront the super assassin demon that possessed my brother was seriously not helping.
Fighting back the urge to stay by the gate, I held up a hand to stop Often. "All right." I gave her a straight look. "This is my business with him. You should wait and let me handle it."
That made the other girl blink. "What--are you serious?"
I managed a dull laugh as I shoved her. "Hell no! Do I look like some kind of suicidal samurai to you? This guy's ridiculous. Get in here and help me." It felt good to joke a little bit, even in this situation where my knees were trying to shake their way into some kind of new dance move and I couldn't stop myself from continually looking over my shoulder no matter which way I faced. If I was a cat, my fur would have been standing on end the entire time.
Rolling her eyes at me, but smiling, Often came through the gate and looked around. "Okay, let's hope he's still here."
"Yeah." I responded. "I don't really fancy going back to talk your good close pal into another favor." Slowly, we moved down the narrow footpath, around the forgotten gravestones that littered the grass. What was Micky doing here? Was he visiting someone he'd killed? Was this a trap? All I knew was that Echidna wanted him alive, which meant I wanted him gone. Beyond that, to be sure, was my fury at him for what he'd done to Carter. I wanted to finish this, before he had a chance to hurt anyone else.
For all my vaunted skills, my night vision is nothing special. I nearly tripped over several gravestones when I lost the path a few times, and I would have completely missed the shape of Micky standing by a grave marker if Often hadn't put a hand up to stop me and pointed him out. We both stopped and watched for a moment as the familiar figure stood with his head bowed toward the grave contemplatively. After giving the other girl a shrug, I stepped that way. "Micky." I said. "It's time to leave my brother alone."
If my voice startled him, he didn't show it at all. Instead, he simply turned slightly and raised his gaze to me. I could see the smile tugging at his lips. "Macbeth. I'm glad you made it. I was afraid you wouldn't have a chance to see the end."
"The end?" I asked cautiously, reaching to my belt to withdraw the knife that I had borrowed from Often. Silently, I slid the blade across my own hand, drawing blood from the palm. "The end of what, Icon?" I called him by his true name.
The demon made my brother smile. "The end of it all. The end of anything that could have been. Do you see this?" He gestured to the gravestone. "The first man I killed, once I was free from the time cell you threw me into! But I didn't just kill him. I wore his body like a cheap suit and made him kill his entire family. His wife, his three children, even his old mother. The things I made him do to them..." The sick freak laughed a little. "Good times."
Blanching despite myself, I raised the knife so he could see it. "The only thing that's ending here is you, Icon. You're not leaving this cemetery. Let my brother go."
The bastion of evil chuckled darkly. "Or what? You're not going to stab your own brother, Macbeth. So don't even pretend."
My eyes narrowed thinly and I turned the knife over in my hand. "Don't pretend you know me. And don't pretend you have any idea what I'm willing to do to make sure my brother never has to be your puppet again."
As I finished speaking, Often came out of nowhere. I mean that literally, since she simply teleported from the tree where she had been standing out of clear sight to the grass behind Icon. Even as she appeared in a green haze, he was reacting impossibly fast. He was halfway turned with his hand dipping toward the gun that I could see in a new holster. But impossibly fast was not always fast enough, and Often got both arms around him and held him tightly. "Mac, do it!"
I could see him struggling in fury. There was no way to know how long Often could hold him, so I had to do this now. "I'm sorry, Craig. I promise I'll fix it." I muttered under my breath before lunging forward to drive the knife into my own brother's stomach as hard as I could. This was no flesh wound. It was nothing he was going to walk away from unless I healed him. But hopefully, with any luck at all, it would also be enough to drive Icon to seek a new host.
The shock that filled my brother's eyes as the knife ripped into his gut almost paralyzed me. With effort, I twisted the knife and gritted my teeth. "I told you, I won't let you use him anymore. Now get out of my brother!"
As I jerked the blade up once more, Icon screamed and threw his arms free. The force hurled Often backwards where she crashed headfirst through one of the half crumbling tombstones. She lay still and unmoving after that. But the effort had taken him all of his remaining strength. He fell to one knee, and then it happened. He abandoned the body of my brother with a wail. I could see the inky blackness as it rose from Craig's form. Spinning in the air, the dark cloud started to move toward Often's unconscious form.
I couldn't let him get to her. Now was the last time to find out if my guess was right. If I was wrong, he'd take over Often and I'd lose another friend. I couldn't even begin to deal with that. With a shout of "No!" I lunged after the blackness. The blood from my cut hand filled my palm as I lashed out with it and grasped. I prayed that I was right, that Echidna's slip of the tongue, about our blood being used to make him, meant that with my blood, I could touch him. The entire plan hinged on that, revolved around it. If this didn't work, it was over.
My blood filled hand closed around the black cloud that made up Icon's normally incorporeal form, and I felt it. He was cold, and slippery like an eel. But I grasped the cloud and stopped him. I think the act of being held like that must have utterly shocked him, because an instant after I grasped the cloud, his demonic, hate filled face was right up against my eyes as he let out a dread scream of rage and fury that echoed throughout the cemetery.
I refused to let go. "It's time to go, Icon!" I shouted at him through his bellows of anger. "This world has had enough of you! I've had enough of you!" Dropping the knife to the ground, I reached up with my now free hand to shove through the dark cloud. "You're connected to me by blood! That means it's my responsibility to stop you! I should have stopped you before! But I'm sure as hell stopping you now!"
Feeling the strain on my body, and my soul as I fought through what I was trying to do, I continued to hold onto the vile creature despite his thrashing. "I can see the way all things can be! I see your fate, Icon! I see your fate through all these worlds, and I see the worlds where you don't exist!" I could feel blood not on my hand, but from my nose. The effort I was putting into this was sending jackhammers through my brain. "I see the worlds where you're nothing! And that's where you're going!"
For a brief second after I said that, the creature's thrashing stopped. I felt his gaze on me, wicked and incomprehending. Then I shoved. I pushed that disgusting, evil creature as hard as I could. I thew him backwards into the tear of reality that I had created, into the reality where he no longer existed. The two truths, that he did not exist and that he did, met with the force of an explosion. I could hear Icon's scream as it echoed throughout both realities. And then, with the barest whisper of fate, he was gone. Icon had been destroyed.
As soon as he was gone, the pressure on my brain dropped me to the ground. There was a dull haze over my vision. I could see Often, still completely unmoving. I could see Craig, his now free but painfilled eyes raised to me with a weak shout that I couldn't hear through the deafness that enveloped me. Weakly, I pushed myself toward him. He was going to bleed out in a few minutes. I had to reach him. I had to heal my brother.
But I, as any person in this world, have my limits. Even as I tried to scream for Craig to reach out to me, as I strained my hand toward his broken and bleeding form, I slumped to the grass. My vision dulled and then, meeting my brother's gaze for what I felt would be the last time, I succumbed to unconsciousness.
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Scramble: rsdoeteyd Answer: Icon is destroyed.
New Scramble: drleiaaeenemyfidsle h 5 words.
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Another bad guy bites the dust! Keep it up Cerulean! :)
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That was amazing :)
I can't believe there are only two more chapters left!
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Here we go, one more chapter after this!
Chapter Twenty-One
"We have scotch'd the snake, not killed it." - Macbeth, Act II, Scene III
If I, in describing the events of my life at this time, were to follow the laws of drama, this would be the moment that a prophetic dream of revelation would come to me. As I lay unconscious in that forgotten area of a dark graveyard, the rules of storytelling would bring me the answers. Hell, I was supposed to be prophetic anyway, so it would hardly have been out of the question. It would have been downright convenient. So, naturally, the only thing that I dreamed of was bouncing pancakes dancing and singing to an unfathomably and completely illogically popular song that was big while I was in elementary school. Unless effeminate blond boy bands are the next great evil, there was nothing important about my dancing pancakes no matter how much they mmm'd or bopp'd.
I was being poked and nudged back out of the black unconsciousness that I had fallen into. My lips moved and I mumbled something. I must have still been half in that dream state, because the voice that had been trying to wake me up groaned. "Not that damn song." Then I felt a harder jab in my side. "Get up, stupid girl."
Raising my head while flinching from the jab, I blinked just before Often's old sort of friend in the wheelchair shoved the stick he held down into my side again. "Oww." I informed him before pushing myself up. "Uggn, where..." I trailed off, looking to the spot where Often had been, and then to where I had last seen my brother. My mouth was dry. Both spots were empty. "Where are they? Where's my brother? Where's Often? Are they okay?"
Keiran visibly rolled his eyes. "Yes, they're absolutely fine. They just got up and went to get some ice cream and reminisce about classic Full House episodes." He looked like he might poke me with his stick again, but eventually dropped it. "Typhoeus's mate sent her thugs to take them both." At my blank stare, he sighed. "The Mother Of Monsters. Echidna. Narrow it down enough for you? She had her little gargoyle freakshow army show up and take both of them away." I saw the pain in his eyes briefly before he hardened his glare. "If you hadn't slept through the whole thing, maybe you could have done something about it."
Literally pushing my headache away, willing it to heal and give me some respite, I retorted just as sharply while standing. "So what did you do while this was happening then? At least you were conscious."
His hand shot out to catch my wrist. "I can't fight Echidna or her hoard. You can." He squeezed painfully before releasing me. "You're the only one."
"Yeah?" Rubbing my wrist, I stepped over to where the grass lay flat and matted with blood in the spot that my brother had lain in. I was confused, tired, and afraid. "Well I haven't exactly seen anything to make me believe that." Reaching down to rub my hand over the dark stain on the ground, I flinched. My brother was gone, Often was gone, and the only help I had was this guy. If I was going to find either of them, I had to start working with him. "I'll take your comments, I probably deserve them and I've given worse. But if you're going to help me, do it. If not, I have to find another way."
After a moment in which he seemed to stare into me with those startlingly blue eyes, Keiran put his finger on the wheelchair control and turned himself around. He began to roll back down the grassy incline in silence. Finally, he yelled back. "If you don't move your ass, I'm gonna pick up that stick and beat it for you."
Casting one last glance back to the bare spot of ground and broken headstone where Often had been, I followed my cantankerous companion back to the same gate that I'd come through to enter this cemetary. The man's chair moved surprisingly well, even over unstable ground.
Once we left the graveyard, Keiran spun his chair to look at me. "First." He reached up and smacked the side of my arm hard enough to make it go numb after the initial stab of pain. "Never enter your elder sibling's domain without adequate preparation and protection." Pointing into the cemetary, he went on. "The lands of the dead belong to Atropos, and now, to Echidna. If you enter them, she will know where you are. That's how she found you."
"Right." I said, trying not to sound too impatient. "So why am I still here? Why did they take Often and Craig, but leave me laying there?"
"Because I saved your ass, that's why." The man reponded bluntly. "As soon as I found out your piece of **** sister was involved, I tried to get over here to tell you both not to be stupid enough to go onto the cemetary grounds. Got here just in time to make your body get itself lost while they picked up the other two. Before you ask another stupid question, no I couldn't have done the same thing to the others. It was all I could do to hide you. If the **** herself had shown up, I couldn't have even done that. You're just damn lucky that she stayed far enough away to let me block your scrawny ass from her sense." He leaned back in his chair. "That's why I wanted you to get off the damn dead land, because shielding you from her was taking too much out of me."
I wanted to ask what he meant by he made my body 'lost', and what exactly that entailed. Actually, I didn't really want to ask, but my masochistic curiosity was trying to act up against my better judgement. Thankfully, all I had to do to make it shut up was focus on what was more important. "Often, can you tell me where she is?"
"No." Keiran's answer was flat. "I don't have anything she owns. Besides," He raised his hand and jabbed a finger in my stomach. "You can find her yourself. That is, if you give a ****."
My hands clenched. "Of course I care. But I don't know what you expect me to do. I can't just point my finger and guess where they took them."
Keairan sighed in obvious annoyance. "Haven't you learned anything at all? Do you just enjoy blundering blindly through life, or do you occassionally open your eyes and pay attention just for the innovation?" He looked around like he might want another stick. "Do me a favor. If you do stop and think once in a while, try it now before your brother and Often are killed because you're too busy complaining about what you can't do instead of focusing on what you can."
My frustration, my anger, my fear, all of it rose up and I very nearly strangled the wheelchair bound man. Which, I'm certain, would neither have helped nor endeared me to the Society for the Handicapped. And with my luck, at some point the fate of the world will depend on just that. Stranger, as well as less helpful, things have happened. Speaking of less helpful, I looked at Keairan for a moment, collecting myself. I pushed my annoyance down and thought of Craig, and of Often. Then I asked through gritted teeth, as calmly as I could manage. "Please, if you know something I should do right now, if you know how I can find them, just tell me. I'm sorry that I don't know everything you know. But if you want me to save them, you have to give me a little nudge." My voice broke slightly at the end. I was scared, afraid of losing my brother and my new best friend in the same stroke, terrified that I'd lose both of them the way I'd lost Carter.
Finally, thank every god in existance, Keairan nodded. His voice was still annoyed, but at least he was talking. "Fine, I'll spell it out for you. If you want to know where they are, just give yourself a vision of them."
That made me stare at him. "Give myself a vision? What, you mean just make it happen?"
Rolling his eyes, the man nodded. "Right, you were still using just the training wheels. Look, if you care about them at all, if you've made any kind of connection with either of them, a real connection, then you should be able to see their current fate any time that you want to. You aren't a prophetess, little girl, you are the Moirai of Life. Stop acting like you have to wait for the vision to come to you on its own and just take it."
For just a moment, I started to shake my head. Then I stopped, realizing that saying it was impossible would accomplish nothing. After everything I'd seen, after all the ways that I'd seen myself grow in this short time, would this really be the most unbelievable? I don't think it even rated the top five. Taking a deep breath, I closed my eyes and thought about Craig. I thought about all the ways that he was an enigma. I know he cared about me, even if he had odd and vague ways of showing it most of the time, and tended to let money get ahead of him. He wasn't the best person on Earth, but he was my brother. Right or wrong, I loved him. And I thought of Often, the girl that I had known just over a day, who had already become my best friend. I thought of them both, and I focused on where they were and what was happening to them.
Briefly, I felt the threads of destiny as they spun around me, seeming to trail over my face. I could feel it trying to pull away, but, with effort, I hauled it back to me. And then I saw, through closed eyes, exactly where Often and Craig were.
My eyes opened with a gasp as I released the vision. "The pizza shop." I said even as I started to turn. "They're taking them to the pizza shop. ****! How did she find out where Nine was? How could she know?!" My fear for the other two had suddenly magnified to include Nine.
Keiran's voice was as dark as his skin. "Echidna has many ways to extract answers from her prisoners, particularly from an unconscious mind. Though it wouldn't have been pleasant." He pressed his control and rolled through the gate. "Come with me, unless you're planning on sprinting all the way back."
Suddenly paling at the thought of Often being hurt, I followed him. "Please tell me you have a van out here or something."
"No," He responded sarcastically. "I just rolled out here all by myself in this little chair." Then he stopped next to a large boulder that sat surrounded by weeds. I still didn't see a van or any other kind of vehicle. "Come here."
"Huh?" I stepped that way. "I-we have to go. Keairan, please, it's Often and my brother and my sister. Please, no more games."
The man shot me a look of annoyance. "Driving there would take too long, you stupid girl." His hand shot out to grab my arm. "You're going to take a much faster trip." He paused before adding with what sounded like genuine worry only partly masked by his constant anger. "Save them."
Then he give me a hard shove directly into the boulder. I barely had time to cry out in anticipation of a concussion before the world swirled around me. In the next instant, I fell backwards onto my rear, landing on the dirty ground. There was no boulder here. In fact, there was no cemetary anywhere nearby either. When I lifted my head, I could see the stonework of the building next to me, and a dumpster to my left. Ahead of me, there were cars passing by the end of this alley that I had ended up in. I was right behind the pizza shop.
Upon realizing where I was, I scrambled to my feet. I had no plan, no way of stopping Echidna. But almost everyone I cared about was inside that building. I would think of something. Jogging to the back door, I pulled the handle and found it unlocked. Before entering, I looked around and then reached down to pick up a couple of very important things. Then I was as ready as I was going to be. Carefully, as quietly as I could, I pulled the door open and stepped inside.
I was standing at the back of the pizza shop. Ahead of me, past assorted tables and near the counter, I could see what was happening. Laderbie stood with a massive meat cleaver that might as well have been an axe, with Nine huddled behind him. Often and Craig were both gagged with tape and being held by the arms by Echidna's monsters. Keiran had been right in describing them as gargoyles, because that was exactly what they looked like. Each stood at least six and a half feet tall, with a hard stone body, slightly curved beak-like nose, and bright glowing red eyes. Their wings were folded close to their bodies.
At least Craig looked better than he had when I had last seen him. His face was still pale and I could see dried blood on his shirt, but he wasn't dead. I didn't know what Echidna had done to save him or why, but at least he was alive.
Sounding amused rather than worried about the large man with the enormous cleaver, Echidna stepped forward. "I've not come for you yet, silly man. But I will have the girl. I will take her from you. Whether you're alive to see it or not is your choice."
Lifting his chin, Laderbie held the knife up. "I swore the girl would be safe, creature. I keep my promises. You'll get no surrender from me!" His teeth glinted as he smiled dangerously. "Do your worst."
Even as the woman sighed and raised her hand, I knew that I couldn't let this happen. Stepping forward past the chairs, I yelled out. "Echidna!" My shout filled the shop and everyone stopped what they were doing to look at me. I trailed my fingers over the tables as I passed them, trying not to let my hands shake too much as I focused on one of the most evil creatures in existance, she who had spawned enough evil to be named mother of monsters. "I hope you weren't planning on doing this without me. We still have unfinished business."
Staring through me with Emily's eyes, the creature laughed. "Oh no, I wouldn't dream of it." Her smile broadened. "In fact, I'm glad you're here, Lachesis. I was afraid that I'd have to keep waiting to take my true body back. I was ever so excited to get it, like on a child at a Christmas. But, I made myself wait for you. It's a very special time, after all."
That made me stop in confusion. "True body? What are you talking about?" I suddenly had an even more uneasy feeling about this. And considering I had just been walking closer to one of the primary sources of evil on the planet, that was saying something.
"Oh, you didn't know." Echidna used Emily's voice to laugh and then raised her hand, pointing back toward my brother, to Craig. "My true body, Lachesis. You might have noticed that dear Craig has certain compulsions. He has certain desires and urges that make you worry about him. He wants money and fame, and other things. He is your brother, but you were still afraid of what he might be capable of. Yet he never really got that far. Because of you." She jabbed a finger toward me. "Because you in all your infinitely stupid wisdom separated my soul from my flesh as we descended into that timeless void. My soul, my true self, was attached to Atropos, but you took my flesh and kept it close to you. You've had it close to you all this time." Her smile returned. "But now, it's come back to me. My true flesh."
"He's not your flesh!" I shouted. "He's my brother! He's a person!"
The woman's evil laugh echoed through the room. "He is nothing! He is only my impulses tempered by the conscience you spent a millenia trying to force on him before our birth! He is my flesh! I will have my body!" She spun back toward Craig.
"No!" I screamed and leapt that way. Whatever happened, I had to stop her.
Immediately, Emily's elbow came back and impacted my face. The woman turned as my vision spun and her hand was at my throat. I knew in that instant that she could have absorbed me, could have taken me right then. But she just lifted me off the floor by the throat, choking me. "Stupid, pathetic, worthless girl! I will take my true body back, and you will see it! And then you will watch as I kill everyone you care for. Then, and only then, as your despair fills your soul, I will take you from your misery!" She hurled me backwards against the wall, where I lay stunned briefly, my vision clouding.
Pushing through the haze, I lifted my head and reached up, trying to pull myself to my feet. I could see Craig struggling against the gargoyles that held him firmly, even as Echidna reached out to him with Emily's hand. His scream of anger was muffled by the tape. I matched his scream with my own, even as Echidna made contact. Instantly, the room shook and every bit of glass from the windows to the cups to the mirrors all shattered. A deep, harsh laugh filled the room, coming from some source that I do not dare contemplate.
Then it was over. Even as I made it to my feet, I could see Emily's body fall limply to the ground while Craig shoved the gargoyles away from him. He reached up to take the tape off his mouth, and smiled. "Oh, it's good to be home." Cracking his knuckles while I stood in shock and disbelief, he reached out toward the still helpless Often. "Now, let's start with the first friend."
I would not let this happen. I couldn't. Screaming her name, I held up both of my hands so that Often could see what I had picked up before stepping inside here. Two wildflowers, carefully dug out of the ground so that I had their roots and all, with dirty still clinging to them. In the same moment that her eyes widened in recognition, I threw them. One landed right at Often's feet, the other on the counter next to Laderbie. "Get them out of here!"
While the two gargoyles holding her stared dumbly down at the plant, and Echidna screamed with my brother's familiar voice for them to stop her, Often immediately stomped down toward the plant. Her body shimmered in their grasp and, with a brief flash of green light, disappeared. She reappeared next to the other flower and put both hands out, catching Laderbie's shoulder with one and the top of Nine's head with the other. Then all three of them vanished with one more green flash.
With a bellow of rage, Echidna spun my brother's body toward me. She raised his hand and started to come at me, fury at being denied her victims pulsating from her. Him? I'm not sure exactly what to refer to the creature as. But in my mind, my brother is my brother, and Echidna is the evil. So, when referring to the mother of monsters regardless of what form she is in, I will use the term her.
Before Echidna could reach me, I held up my own hand. "You want to take me, Echidna!? Let's see who's faster. You can absorb me while I banish you out of this world the way I did Icon. Hell, maybe we'll tie and you'll take me just as I destroy you. Then the world can live without either of us!"
Even as she stopped, Echidna's eyes narrowed as though she was trying to read whether I was bluffing or not. Hell, even I didn't know. Which might have been what convinced her. Stepping back, she lowered my brother's arm and spoke. "We seem to be at a stalemate, Lachesis." Her gargoyles hung around by the door, seemingly even less eager to confront me than their Mistress now was.
With a tight voice, I demanded. "Give me my brother back."
Chuckling, Echidna shrugged. "I don't think so. Right now..." She paused and then turned to the door. "I think I'm going to go wake up a few monsters."
"Wake up a few--" I didn't know what she meant, but I also couldn't let her leave. Whether it destroyed me or not, I had to stop her. My feet moved under me, as I tried to catch the vile creature by my brother's arm. However, my hand caught only air. Echidna, and her gargoyles, had simply disappeared. I was left alone in the store with only Emily's unconscious body. Staring at the spot where they had been, I slowly slumped down to my knees next to the other girl. All I could do was watch her, while my thoughts spun.
I have no idea how long I sat there before the bell over the door dinged. Raising my head, I saw Often coming back in, her hand holding Nine's. The pink haired dryad looked shaken as she stepped over to me. "I'm sorry, Macbeth. I'm so sorry. She just knew. When I woke up, she already took the information about Nine from me."
Standing up, I put my arms around the other girl and hugged her tightly. "It's okay, Often. It's not your fault. It's not your fault." I repeated before shuddering. "I'm just glad you're okay."
Then I heard my sister. "Broken." I looked to see her kneeling next to Emily. "She's broken inside." Her voice had taken on a somewhat dreamy, almost mystical tone. Wincing, I reached down to put my hand on her shoulder. I started to try to find a way to explain what had happened to the other girl, how her soul had been carved away by Icon's inhabiting her, and how her morals and her very conscience were what had been shattered. Before I could, Nine reached up to touch the unconscious woman's cheek. "I'll fix it."
Even as I started to question what she meant, I felt a rush of power enter the room. This was the energy of life itself. It felt warm, like the pleasing rays of the sun. The undistilled power of life filled the area and I almost wept from the strength of it.
It lasted only a moment, but afterward, when Emily opened her eyes, I already knew what had happened. The other girl blinked around once, and then her eyes filled with tears. She didn't cry from fear, or from loss, or any kind of sadness. Instead, the tears that she wept were those of joy, the tears of one who had been halved and was suddenly whole. "My soul." Her voice was filled with overwhelming exultation. "It's back. My soul is back."
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Scramble was drleiaaeenemyfidsle h, which translates to: Emily is free and healed
For the last chapter, there will be no scramble, sorry. Coming soon!
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Fantastic :) I love that I become completely into the story just like I would with some of my favourite books.
What are you planning after the last chapter?
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There will be a sequel to this book, it's just the first in a series. Also, I will work on Calamity Saint.
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Woo! That's good news!
Alright, Cerulean! You're in good shape to finish up by your deadline today. I'm totally impressed.
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HERE IT IS! The FINAL chapter in this book. It's been absolutely amazing writing this and actually finishing it. I love every bit of feedback. You guys are awesome for encouraging me, and if I do get it published, you guys and RAF will totally be in the dedication. Thank you so much. Here you go!
Chapter Twenty-Two
"I bear a charmed life." - Macbeth, Act V, Scene V
Life is a complex tapestry of miracles among tragedies. For every failing there is an achievement, and for every curse, there is a blessing. No one in this world will succeed and be joyful in everything that they attempt. The trick, whether you are drawing a picture, working for an uncaring boss, or attempting to save thousands of lives, is to never stop trying. Failure only truly takes hold when you surrender your right to triumph. When you cease believing that you can win, you will almost always lose.
Believing that is what allowed me to get through the next few days. As impossible as my next course seemed, to somehow find and stop Echidna, I would never stop trying. I was a college drop out, with a few amazing tricks, and a history I was still trying to understand. In the other corner was one of the most dangerous, most evil creatures who had ever stood or slithered upon the face of the planet. And she was using my brother's body. This wasn't going to be any kind of walk in the park. But walk it I would, regardless of where the path took me.
On the day of Carter Tavelli's funeral, the sun was high, and shone against the scattered white clouds. I was glad for that. As much as part of me thought the sky should weep for the loss of a man as brave and devoted as Carter, this felt more like a celebration of his life. This way, the Heavens were bright, as though welcoming their son home. I liked to think of him that way, of being satisfied and cared for. I believe that I will see him again, and when I do, I will thank him for every thing that he did for me, and for my sister, and for the world. Carter Tavelli was, and in my mind, will always be, a hero.
Rather than standing among strangers at the funeral, and there were many, I stood apart from them a short distance away. Beyond the obvious reason, that I didn't know anyone there, most of whom were police who might question my likeness to the sketch that had been on the news, I also didn't want to stand on the cemetary grounds. Keairan's warning was fresh in my mind. If I set food on 'dead ground', Echidna would know where I was. I didn't know if she was actively looking for me, waiting to strike, but I wasn't going to take the chance. So I stood by the fence of the cemetary grounds and watched the people gathered around where one of the strongest men I had ever known would be laid to rest.
Behind me, Often spoke softly. "The cop-man did good work." She was standing with both hands on Nine's shoulders, squeezing them. Beside those two, Emily stood with her arms folded. The other woman had been fairly quiet and introspective. I couldn't imagine how she was feeling, having first been possessed and controlled into killing her boyfriend, then losing her soul before being taken over by Evil Incarnate. She was a victim here, as much as anyone, but she was still standing.
Turning away from the funeral, I gave the woman a nod before kneeling in front of my sister. "Nine. Do you understand what's happening now?"
The young girl nodded and swallowed sadly. "I can't go home. I can't go to my mommy and daddy." Her voice broke a little even as she tried to look firm and brave. "Because it would make the bad people show up and hurt them. I don't want my mommy and daddy to be hurt. Even though I miss them a lot."
My god, what kind of horrible person was I? Keeping a little girl away from the parents that she loved. But, as much as it hurt, it was right. Echidna still wanted to take both of us. If Nine went home, she and her parents were both going to die. Sometimes there is no perfect answer. With a wince, I put my arms around her. "You can talk to them, Niner. We'll make sure they know you're okay. But you can't let them know where you are. And we'll have to find a way to disguise you." I hesitated before looking up toward Emily. "Or she will."
Emily nodded. We had already talked about this. "I'll keep her safe, and we'll keep moving. I'm as wanted as she is, so I guess we'll go underground. Figuratively speaking. With all the assassin and terrorist knowledge that Icon dropped in my head when he was inside me, we should be able to stay ahead of the hunt." She pointed back to a waiting van that Laderbie was leaning against while reading the newspaper. "And the giant over there will help."
Nine shook her head. "I want to come with you, Macbeth." Her voice was quiet but insistent. "I want to help you."
I flinched, but smiled. "I wish you could, Niner. I really wish you could. I want to know you. And I will know you. I swear I'll spend time with you. But right now, I have to go after Echidna. And if she catches us both together, very bad things might happen. As long as you're free and safe, I believe that there will always be a chance. Stay with Emily and Laderbie. Do what they say." I smiled and poked her stomach. "And just be glad I'm not leaving you with Keairan." Having met him in these past few days, Nine made a face and we both laughed.
"I heard that." The dark skinned man spoke up from his chair as he rolled across the empty street, closer to us. "And you couldn't pay me to babysit a little terror like that." Nine stuck her tongue out at him and he tried to jab at her with a stick, but she jumped away. Shaking his head, he focused on me. "You better get a move on. I said you had a few days before you'd have to go, not all the time in the damn world."
Frowning, Emily spoke up. "Why did you wait, anyway? You said that Echidna was going to wake up monsters. What does that even mean?"
Keairan answered for me. "It means that the ancient **** is going to try to find and awaken the old monsters. The ones from the mythology. The hydra and the nemean lion and all that. She's trying to wake up the dragons, and if she does, this whole world is going to burn."
Blanching at that, Emily swallowed. "So, again, why are you waiting around?"
This time I answered. "Because, according to Keairan, it's going to take Echidna some time both to find any of the monsters, and to gather the power she needs to wake them up. That and, what was it you said about my visions?" I asked the man.
He replied while setting the stick across his lap. "Your prophesies come to you for a reason. Even if you don't understand that reason for a long time, it's there. The same way that your first vision introduced you to Tavelli, which led to his saving Clotho. Which," He added gruffly. "I suppose is a good thing." Ignoring Nine's beaming smile, he went on. "Anyway, if you follow the visions as they come to you, and help whatever people you can, eventually you'll come to the next reason for them, which should be putting a stop to Echidna."
"And saving my brother." I added. Keairan didn't say anything to that, but I had already made the pledge. Whatever might have originally created him, Craig was my brother. I was going to free him from Echidna's control, no matter what it took. I didn't just save him from Icon by ripping apart reality just to lose him for good. I had to believe, I chose to believe, that it was going to be possible to free him.
I felt a jab in my side from Keairan's stick. He waved it at me. "That doesn't mean you can just wait around and do nothing. The visions, if they're going to lead you to stopping Echidna, only work right if you're out doing the things they want you to do."
Nodding as I rubbed my side from the poke, I glanced to the funeral. Everything seemed to be breaking up. Which meant it was time for us to leave. Taking one last moment to stare at the spot where Carter Tavelli was being lain to rest, I thanked him silently once more for everything he did. Then I looked to Nine. "Time for you guys to go, sweetie." I leaned down to hug my sister again.
Wrapping her arms tightly around my neck, Nine repeated. "I really wish I could go with you." She finally released me after a moment and sighed. "But I know. I'll go with them. I'll be good." She was trying hard not to cry, and her seeking hand found mine, squeezing it. "Be careful, Macbeth. Do you promise?"
Smiling, I answered her softly. "Of course I promise. I'll be careful. You do what Emily and Laderbie tell you to, okay? They're going to keep you safe now." As she nodded, I cupped her cheek and smoothed her dark hair away from her face. "I'll talk to you every chance I get. And I'll see you as soon as I can. We'll find a way to get you home, as soon as it's safe. I promise, Niner." Kissing her forehead once, I moved her hand and let Emily take it from me, saying to the other woman. "Take care of her."
Holding the young girl's hand, Emily nodded firmly. She was already fiercely protective of the girl who had returned her soul to her, who had healed her spirit as no one else could have. I knew that Emily would have died to protect Nine. "I will. We will." She hesitated. "Thank you, for everything, Macbeth. Than you for not letting me... do what I wanted to do." Her voice faltered slightly before pressing on. "I'll make sure nothing happens to her."
"I know." I said to her, and I meant it. I trusted her to take care of my sister. "Good luck."
Nine waved and then the two of them crossed the street to meet Laderbie at the van. They had a long drive ahead of them, and a hard job, keeping both Nine and Emily out of the hands of the authorities, who would doom the world even as they tried to help.
After watching the van pull away, I looked back to Keairan. "I guess I better go then. Before you find a sharper stick."
Rolling his eyes, the man pointed firmly. "Don't tempt me, little girl. You're good, but don't get ****y. That'll just lead to trouble."
"Sure." Often replied, coming up behind me to drape her arms around my shoulders with a laugh. "****y is my job. Macbeth has to be the humble, less funny one." She preened. "I am cute and dangerous and totally the funny one."
Elbowing her slightly, I shook my head. "You may be funny, but I happen to be hilarious." Slipping away from under her arm, I stuck my tongue out at her briefly, then nodded to Keairan. "Thanks for everything. Except maybe the sticks." I started to walk then, down the sidewalk away from the cemetery.
After speaking softly to the wheelchair bound man, Often caught up and continued. "You may be hilarious, but I am mirthful, exhilarating, frolicsome, witty, jocular, and utterly priceless."
Glancing to my best friend after the last bit, I smiled. "That part I can't argue with. You are completely priceless."
Waiting until we reached the end of the block, I finally looked to her, hesitant. "Look, Often. I can't even start to tell you how much I love your help, and your company. But this is too much to ask for you to be involved in. It's dangerous and I couldn't really ask you to--oww!" I rubbed my shoulder where the other girl had punched me.
Keeping her fist raised threateningly, Often shook her head. "Don't even start, Mac. Whatever happens next, I'm with you. Thick and thin, better and worse." Lowering her hand, she smiled. "Besides, I can't let you have all the fun. Where would I be then?"
"Safe?" I offered before ducking away from her slap. "Okay, okay. I won't try to talk you out of it anymore. God knows I need every last bit of help I can get." This of course, was the perfect time for my eyes to roll up into the back of my head as I fell forward while a new vision encompassed my conscience. The fabric of the universe is often threaded by remarkable timing.
By the time my eyes opened, Often had already sat me on a nearby bus bench. She was eating from a bag of peanuts, occassionally tossing a few down for the scattered birds. When I moved, she looked to me. "Everything okay?" She offered me a handful of nuts, which I took.
"Michigan." I said immediately. "Detroit. We have to go to Detroit." My legs were a little wobbly, but I stood anyway, with Often's help.
She frowned. "We're going to Detroit? This really must be the end of the world." Making a face, obviously not wanting to go there, the dryad finally nodded. "Okay, fine, we're going to Detroit. Why are going there? And do we have to stay long?"
"I don't know how long we'll have to stay." I answered while steadying myself and starting to walk once more. "All I know is I saw four kids, three boys and a girl. They were playing in a storm drain and one of them found a leather bracelet with a jewel in it."
As she fell into step beside me, Often squinted. "A leather bracelet? What's so important about that? I mean, I assume you didn't just think it was pretty." She smiled and gave me a nudge with her arm.
Snorting, I shook my head. "I don't know exactly, but I know it's important. I know it's part of the key to stopping Echidna. And.." I hesitated before going on. "I remember the bracelet." To the other girl's questioning look, I explained. "I remember seeing it in my memory of myself back when Nine and I started this whole thing. I was wearing it. Whatever this thing is that those kids are going to find in Detroit, it used to belong to me. And it's powerful."
Often nodded once. "Okay. So we're going to Detroit." Her lip quivered a little and I could hear the whimper in her voice. "Why couldn't they find this thing out where there are actual trees and forests? And, you know, living things?"
I shrugged, offering a sympathetic pat even as I teased her. "I don't know, Oft. I think the smog out there might be gaining sentience. That's sort of a living thing, isn't it?" To her dirty look, I held up both hands and laughed. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry. I know this is going to be hard on you. Come on, are you ready?"
Heaving a slightly put on sigh, but smiling, Often started to walk once more. "Yeah, I guess so. We're going to have to get something to eat soon though."
When I began all of this, I told you that I have an affinity for the underdog. I may have to go back on that. Because, as powerful as our enemies are, as dangerous as they may be and as impossible as our mission seems, I now had the best friend that I could possibly ask for. And that, to me, made anyone who tried to stop us into the longshot. Whatever happened next on this perilous, amazing journey of mine, I wouldn't be alone.
As I thought about this, I retrieved my Cubs hat from my backpack, which I had picked up from the other girl's apartment. Reaching out, I put the hat on her head. "Looks good on you."
"Babe." Often replied with a grin that matched my own. "I look good in anything." She adjusted the cap, then gestured. "Now let's hit the road, Jack." She raised her fist to me and held it.
Bumping my own fist against hers, I started to walk with her then, as we both intoned in harmony. "And don't you talk back no more, no more no more..."
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INTERIM
Not far from where Macbeth and Often walked together, two men sat in a car. One watched the pair while another spoke in hushed tones into a small cell phone. Both men wore sunglasses, but that was where the similarities between them stopped. The man on the phone, who was at least fifteen years older than the other, wore a crisp short sleeved blue button up shirt, jeans, and his blonde hair was cut military regulation short. The boots that he wore were polished to a sheen. His posture was perfect as he sat in the passenger seat.
By contrast, his dark haired companion wore a white tee shirt, running shorts, and sandals. His fingers drummed the steering wheel as he waited for the other man to finish his phone call. Between the two men on the seat lay several cut out newspaper articles, all about the mysterious girl who had supposedly miraculously saved the life of the kid at the restaurant. On the floor were several new sketches of the would-be savior, each more detailed than the last. Finally, on the dashboard, was Carter Tavelli's badge. The symbol to each man, of what would happen to those who got involved with the abominations.
Once the phone call ended, as the two girls neared the end of the street, the driver spoke casually. "Do we take them?"
The polished man shook his head. "Not yet. The Duke wants us to trail them for awhile. He's already sent a team to follow the others. As soon as it's time, we'll take the lot of them." A slight smirk teased the corners of the man's mouth. "These immortals, these gods and mythspawned creatures think that they can just move back in and take over." His voice hardened. "That's not going to happen. Humanity inherited the Earth, and we'll all be damned to hell before I let them take it back."
Starting the car, the driver pulled away from the curb. "Are you sure you're going to be able to do this?"
"What?" The stiff postured man turned to him with a dark look. "Am I going to be able to kill her?" Raising a pistol, he gave the shortest nod. "Don't ask me that again." Aiming the pistol through the windshield at the two girls, he focused on the blonde, the important one. "When the time comes, I'll put a bullet in her head, just like any other mythspawn. Just like any other Faithless would do."
Watching his companion for signs of weakness, the other man finally nodded, satisfied. "Right, but don't forget, if you hesitate..."
"I know." The passenger never let his posture slump. No hesitation crossed his face. "It won't be a problem. When it's time, she's dead." He inclined his chin, his voice hard and unfeeling. "Macbeth was never my true daughter anyway."
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ZOMG CERULEAN YOU ARE SO MEAN!!!!!!!!!!!!
That was AWESOME and I cannot wait for the next installment. Congratulations!!!!
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Great work! I can't wait for the next book, especially since you left a cliffhanger at the end of this one... again... :P
Congratulations on making your deadline, too!
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*long standing ovation*
That was bloody brilliant!
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Ahhhh! You and your cliffhangers! Goodness, that was freaking fantastic :D :D :D
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That was the mother of all cliffhangers. Effing awesome stuff...can't wait til you start the next one :D
You've done such a good job. :) congrats on finishing.
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Truly amazing work Cerulean, I greatly look forward to seeing the sequel! I also look forward to seeing this in my local book shop someday soon. :)
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Truly amazing work Cerulean, I greatly look forward to seeing the sequel! I also look forward to seeing this in my local book shop someday soon. :)
seconded!
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Wow, you guys. Thanks so much. I'm glad you enjoyed that. I'll be sure to let you know how the agent search is going, so cross your fingers for me!
In other news, the next story with Macbeth will be called The Tempest. (yes, another Shakespeare work, going with a theme.) Expect the first chapter... soonish?
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Cool, looking forward to it. Best of luck getting your work published!