Month: May 2020

Ready 11-06 (Summus Proelium)

Previous Chapter                                 Next Chapter

We met up with Skip and Broadway shortly after that, so I promised Pack and That-A-Way that I would talk to them about the whole mall thing later. I was tired, sore, mentally exhausted, and really just wanted to crawl into my bed and sleep for about a million years. But I was also terrified about what was going to happen when I got home. It was late, and my phones completely didn’t work so I had no idea if my parents had noticed me being gone for so long. If they’d been trying to get hold of me, if they’d panicked and called the cops… this could get complicated. And I was so done with everything right then, I was afraid of what I might say. 

The car that Skip showed up in was actually a van. Apparently she’d damaged the Scions’ car enough to leave it undriveable and then abandoned them. Given his immunity to practically anything, there was no way that she could keep Pencil contained long enough to try to call in the authorities. Especially with Cup there and the possibility that they had called in other Scion reinforcements at some point in all of that. The best thing to do was to get out of there while we could. None of us wanted to take the risk of Pencil getting the upper hand again. He’d almost managed it even with all of us there and Skip’s own selective immunities. 

Besides, I was just… again, exhausted. Falling into my seat in the van, I let my head rest against the window while listening to That-A-Way telling Skip what road to take to get out of there, and to Broadway saying something about how she would watch for anyone behind us. 

The next thing I knew, the side door of the van was being slid open and we were in a brightly lit area. I jerked awake, heart thudding its way through a Lars Ulrich drum solo while I looked around wildly, instant panic making me imagine any number of horrible scenarios just then. 

That-A-Way was right there, hand on my arm while she quickly assured me, “It’s okay. It’s alright, Paintball. Hey.” Moving a bit, she gestured to show me that we were just in some kind of illuminated parking garage. “We’re back in Detroit, it’s okay. You’re safe.” Pausing to look at me, the other girl looked for a moment like she was going to say something important. In the end, however, she just carefully asked, “Are you okay? You were… you were shifting around a lot.”

Flinching at the thought of what I could have mumbled, considering the state I was in, I gave a short nod. It took a second to come down off my panic-high, but I finally found my voice. “Y-yeah, I’m good. I’m fine. I mean I’m not fine, but I’ll get over it. You…” Biting my lip, I looked to her. “You guys really saved me. I would’ve been dead without you. I would have died.” Just saying that out loud, even now that I was safe and totally out of that situation, made my heart beat faster while my throat went dry. The memory of Pencil pointing that weapon at me… I shook a bit, shoving the thought down into the basement of my mind before locking the door.

That-A-Way gave me what I knew was a practiced reassuring smile, the kind she used for making civilians feel better about a situation without scaring them. “I’m just glad we were there,” she informed me, before her eyes narrowed. “And as soon as you feel better, I’m hitting you again. Don’t you ever do that, got it? I will not be used as an excuse to let you go off on your own and get yourself killed. If you do, I’ll find a way to bring you back just to kick your ass.” 

Quickly, I held up both hands in surrender. “I know, I know. It was stupid. In my defense, I had no idea that the Scions were involved at all. I wouldn’t have–yeah, I know. It was still stupid. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want anyone else to get hurt because of me. I didn’t want to be–ow.” The last bit was because That-A-Way put her hand out to flick my forehead with one finger. It hurt. 

“Just don’t do it again,” she flatly insisted. “You need help, ask for it. That’s why I gave you my number in the first place.” Pausing briefly, the girl added in a slightly more subdued voice. “Seriously, Paintball, I’m glad you’re okay. I don’t know what…” She shook her head. “Just don’t be that stupid anymore. I really don’t want to find out you got yourself killed after all this. Especially if that thing you were talking about…” Stopping herself, she gestured. “Come on, let’s go.” 

Sliding out of the van after her, I looked around. We were, sure enough, in one of the parking garages downtown. I could see Skip off in the distance, wearing a backpack over one shoulder and talking to what looked like a security guard while Pack and Broadway stood off the other way next to the former’s cage full of lizards. As soon as Pack saw me get out of the van, she approached, leaving her teammate with the cage. “Good,” she started, “you’re awake. So what are we gonna do about everything you said?” Lowering her voice to being barely audible, she added, “Cuz I don’t know about Compass-Power here, but I really wanna know more. Especially if it involves my team.”

“And my team,” That-A-Way agreed, arms folded. “But we can’t really talk about it right now.” 

“Yeah, there’s not time,” I pointed out after stifling a yawn. “My parents are already–” Cutting that off quickly, I blanched before settling on, “I’ll meet both of you later this week, I promise. Just let me recover from all this and we’ll talk about what I know. We’ll figure something out. Especially about that… thing I mentioned with the mall.” Saying those last few words mostly under my breath, I gestured. “But seriously, like I said, don’t tell anyone.” I looked to That-A-Way. “No one on your team, none of the adult heroes. Not even the leaders. Not Caishen, not Brumal, and especially not Silversmith.” 

That-A-Way was squinting at me. “What do you mean, ‘especially not Silversmith?’ He’s not… no.” 

I met her gaze intently. “I’ll explain more later, I swear. Just… just don’t do anything you can’t take back. Telling anyone about this is gonna open a box that none of us can close again. The more people who know about it, the worse it’ll be. Later we can figure out who to trust, but right now, just…. don’t.” 

“And especially not Silversmith,” That-A-Way repeated pointedly, her gaze still locked on me. 

“Yeah,” I murmured, “especially not Silversmith. Like I said, I’ll tell you more later. I just can’t deal with this right now. Don’t talk to anyone about it. Please. This is just a lot to put out there right now.” Looking to Pack, I added, “Check on Eits for me? Make sure he’s still getting better. And I’m sorry about… about everything.” 

Pack promised to do so, before Skip approached. The Ten Towers Touched spoke in that same eerily calm voice of hers that actually helped calm me down, all things considered. “Steven won’t tell anyone we were here. I trust him to be discreet, he has been very helpful before.” Looking to me, she added, “How are your injuries? Will you be able to make it home?” 

Everything hurt, that was for sure. But the fact that I was alive and in one piece right then after everything that happened was honestly such a freaking miracle that it felt like I could’ve danced home. Okay, not really. Ow. Still, I’d get home. I didn’t really have much of a choice, even if the idea of trying to explain to my parents where I’d been was terrifying. “I’ll make it,” I confirmed. 

We said a few more things. I thanked all of them for going the extra however-many-miles to save my stupid life from Pencil. Then I left them. We all separated, and I headed out of the parking garage and out onto the street. Honestly, right then the last thing that I wanted to do was start jumping and running around. But I had to get back home, and first I needed to get to the place I’d stored my clothes on the way over to see Pack and Eits in the first place. 

Despite what I’d said about being okay, I was limping as I left the garage. Fuck. Shit. That hurt. Everything hurt. Getting knocked out by whatever that dart had been was bad enough, but the chase through the woods, getting hit with whatever that gun had been? That was rough. If I hadn’t had my orange paint on when that gun hit me the first time, what kind of shape would I be in now? Would I even be alive? I definitely wouldn’t be walking like this. 

Then again, the only reason I was even still here at all was because of Pack and the others. The four of them had gone out of their way to save my life. The fact that Pack and That-A-Way had put aside any differences they had to save me was enough on its own, but I barely knew Skip. I’d exchanged a few words with her, that was it. And I didn’t know Broadway at all. She was there because of Pack, of course. But still. The four of them had totally saved my ass. Without them, I wouldn’t be alive. I’d be dead. Dead. The thought kept reverberating throughout my mind while I used a bit of red paint to yank myself up to a roof so I could get out of sight. 

Dead. Without them, I would have been dead. Pencil would have killed me. Everything I’d done, and absolutely none of it would have mattered anymore because I’d just be… gone forever. I was only alive because other people had come to save me. People who I still didn’t trust with all my secrets. Or even most of them. 

Was I resisting telling anyone the truth about myself and my family to protect them, or to protect myself? Or worse, to protect my family. Was I so against letting anyone know what my family was because I was still keeping their secrets? What I somehow instinctively still siding with my family even as I outwardly sided against them?

Those thoughts bothered me as I walked across the roof. My hand was rubbing my chest where I had been hit. One of my ribs felt really bad, making me flinch and wince when I touched that spot. It did, at least, distract me from all those troubling thoughts about my motivations. 

Taking a breath, I used blue paint to launch myself out toward the next building. And I instantly regretted it. A shooting rush of pain went through my side and leg, and I basically ended up falling in a heap on the next roof, sprawling out gracelessly before curling into a ball with a groan of pain. Owwww.  

Right, this might have been worse than I thought. I really needed to get home, but running and jumping just wasn’t going to cut it. So, instead, I just used red paint to pull myself from roof to roof and orange paint to ensure that I didn’t land too roughly. Even simple landings that I never would have used the orange paint for any other time needed it. I was basically limping from roof to roof just to get to the spot where I had hidden my clothes. That was all I needed. I would change clothes and then call for an Uber. 

Wait. Call. My phones were both busted as far as getting a signal went. Sighing hard when that thought popped into my head as I hit another roof, I stumbled and half bent over. Nausea welled up in me and I had to fight the urge to throw up or pass out. Or both. After catching my breath, I took out both phones to check them again. Sure enough, still no signal. I was in the middle of town and yet there was no signal. Pencil had definitely not been exaggerating about what his little toy had done. 

Okay, still not the end of the world. I would change clothes and then use the phone at a gas station or something. I’d get a ride home and come up with some kind of excuse for how late I was if it came down to it. Considering it was about four in the morning at that point, I was relatively terrified about how my parents would react if they actually knew I wasn’t in bed. 

At least I had a couple people to help me with the mall problem. I’d had no idea how I was going to get into that secret underground place to find anything else out by myself. But with That-A-Way and Pack, maybe we could actually pull it off. And maybe I would actually manage to think of how much I could tell them. I’d already taken several huge risks with all that and they had come through every time. Pack had come to save me even when she was mad about Eits. She risked her life and the lives of her beloved lizards to save me. That-A-Way had willingly worked with villains to come help me. At what point was I just going to trust them with all of this, with the whole story? What was wrong with me? Part of it, of course, was genuinely wanting to protect them from the things my family could do. But by this point, how much of that was just an excuse? And who was I protecting more, them or my family? I was kind of afraid of what the answer to that actually was. 

Finally, I reached my hidden bag and looked around to make sure things looked clear before starting to change. And damn was that just the worst clothes changing experience of my life. Everything hurt so much. Just lifting my leg to put it into the hole of my jeans made me practically whimper. It felt like I was contorting myself into a pretzel simply by pushing my arms through the sleeves of my shirt and jacket. And I had to do it quickly, because the absolute cherry on the top of this shit day would have been someone spotting me standing on the roof in my underwear and bra. 

Hiding the bag with my costume once more, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to risk taking it home when I didn’t know what the situation there was, I got myself to the ground. After managing that without dying somehow, I did one thing with my personal phone to help sell any story I came up with before walking out to look for a phone to use. Thankfully, the guy in the nearby gas station didn’t raise too much of a fuss, and I was able to call a taxi. Then, while waiting for it, I noticed a guy skating past. An idea popped into my head, so I quickly flagged him down before offering him a hundred bucks for the board and another fifty for his helmet. He took it and, once he was gone, I stepped into the alley and slammed the board against the wall a couple times until I managed to almost snap one set of wheels off. I hit the helmet a few times too. 

Giving the driver instructions to an address a short distance away from my house, I slumped into the seat and exhaled while trying to think of a story I could tell that might actually help. 

Once again, I fell asleep almost immediately. The next thing I knew, the driver in front was clearing his throat and trying to politely wake me up. When my eyes opened, he nodded. “All set.” Pausing then, he added, “You sure you’re okay, kid? You look like someone threw you into a blender.”

Somehow, I managed a slight smile while paying him. “Just need to sleep.”

He gave me a thumbs up while I was getting out. “Well, you get on home and take a nap, son.”

Son. Yeah. Because that was really what I needed right then. Mumbling something but I didn’t even follow myself, I shut the door and shoved my hands into the jacket pockets before walking off. Son. Boy. God dammit. Yes, I had much worse problems than that. That was basically a pebble in my shoe compared to everything else. And yet, it hit me at just the wrong time. I was tired and sore and so much else had happened. Dropping my head as I shuffled along, I forced back the tears. No, they weren’t tears from what he had said. I’d been mistaken for a boy plenty of times. So many people thought I was a rather pretty thirteen or fourteen-year-old boy instead of a sixteen-year-old girl that it should not even have registered anymore.  

No, the tears were mostly about everything. Getting captured, nearly dying, seeing that picture and realizing that the dead boy had obviously been a friend of mine, all of it. Even the fact that I’d clearly missed Bobby by just minutes and now had no idea where else he could be contributed. All of it contributed, until I could barely keep the tears shoved down where they belong. God dammit, I was a girl, but I wasn’t some little baby. I was not going to start sobbing again. Not now. I was going to suck it the fuck up and keep going. 

On the plus side, I was very quickly distracted from any thought of crying. On the negative side, that distraction came because I turned the corner and saw both of my parents standing out on the front walk past the security gate. There was a uniformed police officer and several people in suits standing with them. All of them were in the midst of a really intense conversation.

A brief thought popped into my head that I should try to eavesdrop. But I just stood there, too tired and sore to do anything else by that point aside from dropping the skateboard and helmet off to the side on the grass. Spying could come later. 

Mom was the first to see me. She glanced away from the man she was clearly giving orders to, spotted me, and let out a loud, startled gasp. I saw the men turn, hands going quickly to what were obviously their weapons, while my dad looked up as well.

Then they moved, and just like that, both of my parents were right in front of me. Dad had me wrapped in a tight embrace that he immediately released when I yelped. Mom, who looked as though she was about to pull me to her, came up short at that, her eyes widening. “Cassidy?” As she said my name, her hand went out to gently touch my face with trembling fingers. It was like she was convincing herself I was really there. Dad had one hand on the side of my head, I could see his chin quivering a little before he got himself under control. It was clear that both of them were barely holding themselves in any sort of order. And the only reason they hadn’t already crushed me was that quick yelp when Dad had tried the first time. 

“Cassie,” Dad started then, his voice cracking a bit. Are you okay? What happened? Where have you been? You never came home after dinner, and… and you didn’t answer your phone.”

“Yes, Cassidy,” Mom agreed, looking as though she was torn between hugging me until I couldn’t breathe or choking me to achieve the latter effect immediately.

“What happened to you?”

Previous Chapter                                 Next Chapter

Eighteen 6-05 (Heretical Edge 2)

Previous Chapter                             Next Chapter

A/N – Despite Fossor not physically appearing in this chapter, summaries for this imprisonment arc have been requested, so one follows at the end for anyone who would like to read just that. Or would like to read it to see if they want to read the chapter in full. 

The first thing I did, before anything else, was quickly move over to the tub. Leaning in, I twisted the handles and let the bath start filling with water before any of the possible minders anywhere nearby could get suspicious. Once that was running, I hissed a quiet, “This is a trick, a trap.” Even as I said that, my eyes were darting around, looking for someone or something else. 

Rahanvael’s ghost gave a slight headshake, watching the water stream into the tub for a few seconds. “Why?” she finally asked, her voice somehow simultaneously pointed and gentle. “What sort of trap could my brother possibly need to use on you when you are already here and under his power?” She gave me a long look before quietly adding, “I’m… sorry to be so blunt, but he doesn’t need to trap you, Felicity Chambers. He already has you in the trap.” 

Okay, she had a point there. Still, I replied, “To fuck with me. You think Fossor wouldn’t dangle some kind of hope right in front of my face and then snatch it away just to fuck with me and maybe break me a little more easily? Or just for the hell of it. Because I’m pretty sure he’d do exactly that. And he’d definitely think to plan ahead and have you appear to me before.” 

“You’re right,” the ghost allowed. “That does sound like my brother. But… he wouldn’t use me for that. He’d do a lot of horrific things, but not that. And I know it’s easy for me to say, because you don’t know him like I do. On the other hand, you had all those tests done. Virginia Dare, your brother Wyatt, Sariel Moon, and Apollo. All four of them tested me. All four of them said that I wasn’t lying or controlled by my brother. It’s your energy pulling and keeping me here, not his.”

For a moment, I just stared at her. My mind was rushing in a dozen different directions. I almost wanted to scream. There was so much pressure. If I did the wrong thing now, what would happen? I was so… so afraid. The constant threat of being taken by Fossor at some future point that had hung over my head so long had been replaced by the cold hard fact that I was his prisoner. And the things… the things that he had implied he wanted to do… the things I knew he was capable of… I wanted this to be real. I wanted so desperately for this one single advantage I potentially still had to be a real thing. I wanted to trust her, but it was so dangerous. If I was wrong, if she was playing me–if Fossor was playing me just for the hell of it, would I ever recover from that? If he had somehow tricked all four of the others into being wrong…

And yet, at this point, what did I really have to lose? I was here. I was trapped in this house with my mom, who had already been trapped here for a decade under that monster’s control. Yes, if this went wrong and turned out to be a cheap trick, it would devastate me. But I was already devastated. I didn’t have any other choice. If I didn’t do something, then… then I was lost.

That was what the real crux of this whole thing was. Mom and I needed some kind of edge, something special that Fossor hadn’t planned for. This had to be it. Assuming this was real… if it was real, then there was absolutely no way that asshole could have prepared for something like the sister he had killed millennia ago suddenly showing up again and helping to take him down. 

By the time I looked up again after going through all that in my head, the tub was full. I reached out, without taking my eyes off the ghost, and turned off the water. Listening to the last few drops, I quietly whispered, “What if he knows you’re here now?” The unspoken question, of course, was my fear that Fossor was spying on me when I was about to clean up in the tub. 

“If he knew I was here,” Rahanvael gently pointed out, “he would already be in this room. If he knew there was a strange ghost, he would be here to cast me out. If he knew it was me, he would…” She paused, seeming to think about that for a moment before continuing. “I’m not sure what he would do, exactly. But he would not leave you in here alone with me, either way.”  

While I nodded slowly to that, she went on. “And I would know if either he or his.. minions were watching this room. I was my brother’s first real ghost. I have a connection to the others, and to every other creature touched by his power. I can sense them, feel them. I can tell you how many are in this house right now and where they are. As for Merakeul, I can sense him as well. Right now, he is out in one of the gardens, that way.” She turned, pointing off into the distance. 

“Merakeul, that’s… that’s Fossor?” I slowly asked, sitting on the edge of the tub. At this point, I was all-in. There was no other choice. If this turned out to be a trick or a game of some kind, I’d deal with that. But for the moment, taking a chance that this was actually real was my only shot.

She gave a slight nod, clearly watching my reaction. It was strange, first seeing the ghost of a girl who looked a little younger than I was, and also because her eyes seemed so much older than the rest of her. Which was kind of an effect I’d seen before, considering how many people around my life were a lot older than they looked. But still, in this girl, it was even stronger than most. Her eyes were ancient, and spoke of a deep weariness and weight. When I’d first seen her back at the camp, I thought she looked mischievous. And she did, on the surface. Beyond that, however, especially when I stared at her now, I saw what had to be the pressure she felt from the fact that her own brother had turned into… what he had turned into. 

“You should bathe,” she reminded me. “They’ll expect you to delay and be a bit slow, so we don’t have to hurry too much. But they’ll still get suspicious and check if you take too long. He’ll be waiting and watching to see the first move you make to escape. He might expect you to try to run tonight.” 

“He’s having my mother and I sleep in the same room together,” I murmured, frowning a bit. “It’s to tempt me. He wants to see if we’ll try to run away together, if one of us has some kind of plan to get out of the house. I mean, he has to know that we know it’s a trap, but…but he also wants to see if we can resist taking a shot.” Saying it out loud like that, I knew it was true. The whole reason Fossor wasn’t pushing too hard right now, letting Mom and me stay in the same room, even letting her wear clothes when he… urggghh… when he usually didn’t. It was all to see if we would try to escape right now, when he was most ready for it. 

And the worst part was, a part of me was still tempted to take a shot at it. I was so… terrified of being here, so scared of what would happen in the future, that… yeah, I was tempted to try to take off with my mom. Logically, I knew it was stupid. I knew Fossor was ready for that. He had to be. But there was just this voice in the back of my head that was constantly whispering reminders of what kind of things would happen to me here, what I could be forced to do. And between making me think about everything I really didn’t want to think about, the voice occasionally added a very pointed, what if? What if I could escape with my mother right now and I didn’t try? What if I could get her out of here, run away, and not have to deal with any of that? Yes, there was a ninety-nine percent chance I would fail. But that one percent…

I might’ve tried it. Gods help me, even knowing how unlikely it was, knowing Fossor was anticipating it, I still might’ve tried to escape with my mother that night, just off that one percent chance. I was so scared of the future, my future in this place, that I might have taken that one percent chance to maybe escape. Might have, except for one thing: this ghost. Rahanvael. She was my real one chance. Not rising to Fossor’s bait tonight. No, my one chance was her. If Fossor truly didn’t know about her, if she was really a total blind spot for him, then she was my only real chance at getting out of this. My only real chance at beating that son of a bitch, and getting the hell out of here with my mother. I couldn’t waste that. 

Lost in those thoughts, I hesitated before looking over at my ghost companion. “You’re really sure that no one’s spying on us right now?” I wished that I had Shiori’s power to know if anyone was secretly looking at me. It might not have been strong enough to beat Fossor,  but it still would have made me feel a little better. And while I was wishing for things, I might as well have wished that I was wherever Shiori was right then. I never would have wished that she, or anyone else I cared about, was actually here with me. It was bad enough that my mother and I were trapped in this place.

Rahanvael didn’t answer immediately. She looked around the room, clearly focusing for a few seconds. Finally, she returned her attention to me and nodded. “Yes, I am certain that no one touched by my brother’s power is near enough to hear or see what is happening in this room, and that no spying spells have been set up. He is not attempting to eavesdrop right now.” 

“Mom,” I realized. “She said she could tell if he was spying with her own magic. I bet Fossor knows that. As long as we’re here in the building, he probably figures there’s no reason to use a bunch of spying spells constantly. You know, since Mom would know about it anyway.” 

Then I hesitated before looking to the ghost. “Um. I know this is probably weird given the situation. But would you mind, umm, you know…” 

“I will turn around and look the other way,” Rahanvael agreed with what I swore was a small smile. She looked maybe a year or two younger than me, though I knew she was actually thousands of years old. Actually, come to think of it… “Do ghosts mature after death?” I asked while getting myself ready and stepping into the tub. I really would have preferred a quick shower, but this was what I had to work with. Besides, the hot water actually did feel good. 

“Physically, no,” she informed me, her voice sounding contemplative as she floated there facing the far wall. “Mentally, emotionally? Experience leads to maturity in those things. I have spent a very… long time hiding from my brother. First, I looked for someone who could help stop him. But that was…” She trailed off, her voice turning a bit pained at some long-ago memory. “That was unhelpful.” 

“He was in prison, wasn’t he?” I put in. “He was supposed to be in that Gehenna place.” 

“He shouldn’t have been,” she said quickly before stopping. “I mean, yes, he is… he is absolutely evil. He should be stopped and… and killed now. He should be put down. But at the time, he only… he was only trying to make me immortal by… by killing me and putting my soul back in my body.” 

I turned a bit in the tub, staring at her from behind. “He wanted to make you immortal by killing you?” 

“He wasn’t of sound mind,” she replied simply. “I know that. He thought that his power would allow him to make me immortal by turning me into a ghost, then putting me back into my body and sealing it within once more. He was wrong. He was wrong. He was sick. But he wasn’t evil then. He should have been put in a hospital. He should have been helped. Instead, they put him in the worst place imaginable. They put him in Gehenna for seventeen of your years, stuffed in a hole with nothing but the most evil, dangerous, monstrous people in the universe for company. He was younger than you were when you began all this and they put him in that place.”

“I hope you’re not trying to make me feel sorry for him after everything he’s done,” I said quietly. 

“No,” she assured me, her voice soft. “My real twin, my Merakeul, died in that prison. The brother I loved never came out of there. The monster he is now, the evil creature that being in that place turned him into, needs to die. It needs to be destroyed forever so my real brother’s spirit can rest. I want Fossor to die so that Mera can be done. I don’t expect you to know him the way I used to. I don’t expect you to understand just how much he has changed, just how… just what kind of person he was when we were children. I would never expect you to think of him that way. That was my Merakeul. And he will stay in that prison for all time.” 

A few seconds, I tried to think of how I would feel if I was her. I knew this ghost wasn’t the real Rahanvael, like her actual spirit or anything like that. The ghost was the remains of the real girl’s magical energy when she had died. Magic given a personality and memories. Still, as far as she was concerned, she was Rahanvael and Fossor was her brother. So, if I was in that position, would I be able to think like that? I thought about how I would feel if my mother turned evil and did all the things that Fossor had done for so long. Would I be able to focus on wanting her dead so she couldn’t hurt anyone else? How long had it taken this girl to come to the conclusion that he could never be helped? Actually, come to think of it…

“What were you doing in those seventeen years he was in prison? Did you… see him?” That didn’t sound right, considering if Fossor had known the sister whose death started his entire slide into what he was today was actually around as a ghost, he would have done a hell of a lot more to keep her around him all the time. I was pretty sure he had no idea she existed. 

Sure enough, the ghost shook her head, voice soft. “I remember drifting, aimless and… empty, sort of. It was like floating on the water, staring at the stars forever. I… I heard my brother’s voice now and then, but it was faint. Then I felt him tugging me. I felt more… together. I felt like myself again. He pulled me back, but it was after he destroyed that prison. After he killed so many people. He was killing people, taking their power and adding it to his own. And he tried to pull my spirit back. He was trying to bring me back again, years after I died.” 

“But you didn’t go to him,” I realized. “He pulled at you but you… resisted?” That was a bit surprising, considering how powerful Fossor was. “Is it because you’re his sister?” 

“I think so,” she agreed. “I understand his power, I can avoid it. I can sense it, feel it, let it slip past me. He never sensed that he’d actually brought me back already. I was invisible to him–am invisible to him. I wanted to fade away again, I wanted to go back to laying on the ocean and seeing the stars. But I couldn’t. I saw everything he did. I watched everyone he killed on our world. I’ve seen what he turned it into.” 

“But you’re not actually tied to his magic,” I pointed out carefully. “Sariel and others already worked that out. You aren’t directly connected to him anymore.” 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “I separated myself from my brother’s power. I can still feel it, can still avoid it. But over the years, I extricated myself from him. It was like untangling a very complicated knot. And I had to do it without letting him know. It was so… complicated. I had to only pull at the strands connecting me to him whenever a different spirit was fighting him, so that he wouldn’t notice my own tugs at his power. But I did. I pulled myself free and then… then I hid from him. I saw all the things he did on our world, the way he’s made our people into his… his batteries, his hostages. Everytime something bad targets him out here, he transfers it to our people. Our people live and die as nothing more than his slaves, for… for thousands of years. It’s–” She stopped, clearly taking a second to collect herself. “I want Fossor dead so my world can be free again. You have every right to hate him. But for me, I just want him gone, my brother put to rest, and my world to be free. They… they deserve to be free.” 

Shifting a bit in the water, I watched her, thinking about everything she said before speaking. “I want him gone too. And I want your world to be free. I want my mother and me to be free. But the only way either of us are going to get any of that is by working together and being smart about it. 

“And by getting pretty damn lucky.” 

 

SUMMARY

 

Flick has a discussion with Rahanvael, establishing that she is invisible to Fossor’s senses due to being his first ghost and spending many years secretly extricating herself from his power while he remained unaware that he had successfully brought her back. She is also capable, due to her connections to her brother, of sensing his power and any of those brought back by it. This allows her to tell Flick if they are being spied on or where any of Fossor’s ghosts and other necromantic creations are in the area. Rahanvael tells Flick that she wants Fossor dead so that her brother’s spirit can rest and their world can be freed.

 

Previous Chapter                             Next Chapter

Ready 11-05 (Summus Proelium)

Previous Chapter                                Next Chapter

To their credit, Pack and That-A-Way didn’t expect me to start talking immediately. They even waited when I asked them to while I went inside and grabbed those toys that I’d seen before. I wasn’t sure why they gave me such a strong emotional reaction, but I did know that I wanted them. So I put the toys in my pocket, then started out of the cabin before pausing. Turning my eyes away from the broken doorway, through which I could see the others waiting, I looked back over the room. Given everything I’d heard and figured out about Robert–Bobby, I had to assume he wasn’t stupid enough to leave clues about where he could be going when he clearly knew there were some really nasty people after him. When he’d cleared out of this place, even as quick as it had to have been, he wouldn’t have left anything behind that could point to where he was going. Still, just taking off like this without looking closer felt wrong. But we didn’t have a choice. Skip was only going to keep Pencil busy for so long, and if he and his equally psycho sister came back while we were still here, we’d be in the same position we’d been in before. It was time to get the hell out of here. 

So, I headed out, telling the others I was ready to go. Broadway was already gone, apparently making her way through the woods first to give us a little privacy and also to make sure their rendezvous point was clear of any problems. If she ran into trouble, she’d make enough noise to let us know. 

And with that, we started moving quickly through the forest. Pack’s lizard animals were all around us for potential protection and warning, Riddles keeping an eye on things from up above just in case. It was dark enough that the other two were using flashlights they had apparently brought with them.

After a few minutes of walking, Pack was the first to break the silence, her voice pointed and clearly angry. “So, now that you’re safe and all that, which I’m really glad about, for the record, I’m going to go ahead and call you a stupid fucking jackass, okay? And if you ever pull something stupid like that again, I swear I’ll kick your ass myself. You and me, we’ll throw down and I’ll beat your ass cuz I fight dirty. Never, ever fucking do anything like that again, you got it?” 

I cringed through her words. Because she had every right to be angry. Going off by myself had probably been stupid. But what other choice did I really have? I couldn’t tell them everything. I just couldn’t. My family was… it was too complicated, and involving them that directly would just be dangerous. They didn’t deserve to have the weight of all this on their shoulders. At least until I knew more about how my family’s business worked, until I had some idea of how to stop them, I couldn’t offload that responsibility onto other people. And I definitely couldn’t tell them the whole story. That would involve letting them know who I really was, and that… was a bad idea.

But maybe I could tell them some of it. They deserved to know some, at the very least. Hell, they deserved to know all of it, the whole thing. But I just… couldn’t. That was a box I would never be able to close again once I opened it, a Pandora’s Box that was full of all sorts of dangerous evils that would escape if I wasn’t careful to keep the thing shut absolutely tight. 

Some of it, however… I could explain some of it, the bits that might lead them in the right direction. Exhaling, I started with, “I–thank you. Thanks, guys. Both of you, and Broadway. And Skip too. I don’t know how she got involved, but if it wasn’t for you, I’d be dead. I–I’d be dead. No question. You saved my life. I owe you guys. I owe you–” The words stopped as I choked a little before getting myself under control. “I owe you everything. Definitely more than I can give you right now.

“But… but I can tell you something. First, I want… I need you to trust me. I need you guys to promise to keep this all secret. All of it. You can’t tell your teammates.” I looked to Pack, then That-A-Way. “You can’t tell Blackjack, and you can’t tell the heroes you work with. No one. You can’t tell anyone. Not a single person.” 

I saw the way both of them exchanged looks, That-A-Way speaking first. “Excuse me? Okay, I know doing this job can make anyone really paranoid, but seriously? Why wouldn’t you want me to tell the Star-Touched about any of this? I mean, sure, Pack works for bad guys. I can see that, but–” Cutting herself off, she looked over to see the girl in question clearly squinting at her through her featureless black mask. “Oh, stop, you know what I mean. You work with a lot of bad people. Sure, Blackjack has his reputation for keeping his word or whatever, but that doesn’t make him a good person.” 

“Yeah,” Pack retorted, “and a lot of psychopathic jackasses who get off on legally stomping on people who can’t fight back join up with law enforcement to get their kicks. Having a badge, or whatever equivalent you people get doesn’t automatically make you a moral paragon.” 

“It’s not about any of that!” I blurted, trying to stop this whole thing from being totally derailed. “I just–it’s personal and I’m hoping you’ll be able to know the whole thing soon enough. But for now, just promise me you’ll keep everything about this secret, please.” I tried to stress just how important it was both in my voice (as much as the changer still attached to my ear would convey it) and my stare.  

Again, the two of them exchanged looks. I couldn’t tell what either of them were thinking, or what they were communicating to each other in those looks. But whatever it was, they both seemed to come to the same decision, turning to me with the lights aimed roughly toward one another so I could see them better. 

“Okay,” Pack started. “I won’t talk to Blackjack or the others about it. Unless it turns into something I have to talk about. If this starts affecting my people, I’m not gonna lie to them.” 

That-A-Way nodded. “I don’t like it, but if it means helping you when you’ve got someone like Pencil pissed off at you? Yeah, fine. Unless it turns into something that we need help with, or like… people are going to die if we don’t call in the big guns, I’ll keep it between us.” Her voice softened then. “Come on, Paintball, you almost died back there. You need help. Stop being so stubborn and stupid about this.” 

“Ah, little tip, superhero?” Pack put in. “People rarely react well to being called stupid.” 

“It’s okay,” I quickly interrupted. “I know what she meant. And she’s right, running off on my own like that after I… well, implied to you that I was going to ask for help was really stupid. I didn’t know the Scions were involved, but it was still stupid.” 

“And that’s another thing,” That-A-Way pointed out. “If the Scions are involved, do you really think we can keep this quiet? More to the point, do you really think it’s not just as stupid to keep it quiet? If they kill more people just because we didn’t say anything…” 

“You can definitely tell people then,” I immediately agreed. “The second we see Pencil or the other Scions again and they get involved, you can absolutely call in all the help you guys have to stop them. No question. Just… I…” 

Pack stopped walking then. Stepping in front of me, she turned the flashlight so that it was aimed up between us. “What?” the girl demanded. “Damn it, Paintball, you ask Eits for some kind of favor that makes some guys beat the living shit out of him. Those guys turn out to be working for Pencil. Then you lie to me–and don’t you fucking hedge about what you specifically said, you lied and you know it. You lied to me about getting help from Minority-girl over there just so I’d let you run off on your own, got yourself captured and nearly killed by that fucking psycho, and you’re still fucking holding off on us? If we’d caught up with you a minute later, a minute fucking later, you’d be dead! You would be dead, Paintball. So knock it off. Yeah, if we can keep this secret, we will. If it’s the best way. But you need to start talking. You need to explain what the hell is going on, what that cabin was, why the Scions are involved, what that fucking address was supposed to be for, and everything else you can possibly fucking explain about this situation. Because I, for one, am tired of being left in the dark about all this.” 

“What she said,” That-A-Way put in immediately, “only pretend I said it a little more eloquently and nicely. Right now I’m too mad at you for nearly getting yourself killed to think that straight.” 

“I know you guys are upset. You deserve to be,” I admitted a bit weakly. “I just… this is harder than you know. I can’t…” Biting my lip under the mask, I thought about it briefly. “I’ll tell you some of it. I can’t… tell you all of it. I just can’t. Not yet. But I’ll tell you as much as I can.” 

“I still can’t believe you want to keep secrets after…” Trailing off as she clearly realized just how little headway she was going to make, That-A-Way settled on simply waving a hand vaguely. “Yeah, yeah. If it’s so important that you can’t talk about everything even after all that… I guess we’ll have to take your word for it. So what can you tell us? How did you get involved in something that involved the Scions, exactly? Can you explain enough about that, at least?” 

“I’ll try,” I muttered. The truth. They deserved at least as much of the truth as I could manage, as much as I could give them. To that end, I slowly announced, “It started the night I got my powers. When it happened, I was… I saw these guys… execute a couple people in a motel.” 

Both of the other girls (and Holiday, who was pacing around us) gave a short doubletake. “I’m sorry,” That-A-Way started in disbelief, “you saw what happen? Are you… you’re serious now.”

“Super serious,” I confirmed before gesturing. “Come on, we should keep walking. Anyway, the guys saw me, sort of. They didn’t get a good look before I ran away. While I was hiding from them, I got my powers. Then I was… hiding while I heard them talking. I found out they worked for something called the Ministry.” I was mixing around the details of when I found out what to leave out my family’s direct connection. I had to do that, for now at least. As I said the name, my gaze snapped from one girl to the other, looking for a hint of recognition in either of them. I saw none. Neither That-A-Way nor Pack seemed to have the slightest clue what that was.

“What, like some kind of cult thing?” the lizard girl demanded while her hand went out to rub along Twinkletoes’s side. The lizard-gorilla seemed fine now after shrinking down and then being returned to his large size once more. The same went for Mars Bar. Something about Pack using her power on them again healed the damage that had been done. Which was a relief. 

Shaking my head, I kept walking in silence for a few seconds before forcing the next words out. This was one of the hardest things I’d ever had to do, just getting myself to say what I needed to say. Pack and That-A-Way may have both been on opposite sides of the law, but they’d put that aside to come and save me. They deserved to know about this. “Look, I know you’re both going to think I’m crazy. I know. But I need you to listen. What I’ve heard about this Ministry, it’s… they’ve got their fingers in both sides. Star-Touched and Fell-Touched. It’s like they work behind the scenes. They’ve got people working for villain groups and people on the heroes’ side too.” 

Pack looked at me like she was about to say something, but That-A-Way spoke first, blurting a quick and very baffled, “Bad guys working for the heroes? How hard did Pencil hit you, again?”  

“Oh, yeah,” Pack put in, “that’s bound to make the poor guy want to keep talking about something that he was clearly reluctant to even start on in the first place. Act like he’s crazy.” 

“That’s not what I–” That-A-Way snapped defensively before catching herself. “Damn it, I wasn’t…” She trailed off, sighing. “Sorry. I guess we should at least hear you out.” Even as she said it, however, the girl still sounded reluctant and defensive. Which I couldn’t blame her for. 

“I know, I get it,” I quickly assured both of them. “It’s a lot to throw on you guys and expect you to believe any of it instead of just thinking I’m a raving lunatic. Why do you think I didn’t want to actually tell you? Because I know it sounds like crazy bullshit. But seriously. The way they were talking, and other things I’ve heard since then… that’s why I didn’t want to join the Minority.” 

“Because you thought we worked for these… Ministry people?” That-A-Way was staring at me, almost walking into a tree before Pack reached out, caught her arm, and tugged her away from it. She gave the other girl a quick look, a nod of thanks, then stared at me once more. “Really?” 

“I didn’t know any of you,” I pointed out. “And I still don’t know most of you. I mean, look at it this way. Pretend the Ministry is real and you don’t have any doubts. Just for sake of argument. Pretend there really is this secret organization that has agents on all sides, people who report to them. Do you really think they’d put people on the heroes’ side who couldn’t blend in well?” 

That-A-Way briefly looked like she wanted to argue with that, but stopped herself. Instead, she was quiet for a minute, walking through the woods with us like she was lost in thought. Finally, I saw her head give a tiny nod. “Okay, I’ll… pretend and go with that, I guess. If this Ministry thing worked like you said, they’d be good at putting people in under cover. Maybe even people who really thought they were doing the right thing by reporting stuff to this secret group. Hell, they might not even know that this Ministry works for both sides. Maybe they think they’re reporting to a secret group of Star-Touched people, you know? Like Internal Affairs or something.” 

“You mean an even more secret group of heroes inside the group of heroes.” Pack snorted. “Yeah, that sounds about right. If a group like Paintball’s talking about existed, they could totally make some do-gooders think they were part of the super-special secret club like that.” 

I nodded slowly. “Yeah, that’s kinda what I mean. Anyway, like I said, this Ministry has people on both sides. From what I can tell, they run some kind of protection racket or something. You know, letting bad guys operate in the city in exchange for part of the money they take in from jobs. I heard them talking about getting the patrol routes for different Star-Touched teams for a higher percentage take, and direct intervention, whatever that entails, in exchange for even more. I’m pretty sure they have at least one person on every hero team to give out patrol routes, hero’s schedules, other things like that. And more on the police force, the court system, all those things. They’ve been around for a long time, you guys. Like I said, they’ve got their fingers in everything. They run things behind the scenes, and they’re really not happy that I know anything about them at all. Except they’re not sure how much I know, if anything.”

“So if what you’re saying–” Pack corrected herself, “If you’re right about what you think, then Blackjack’s gotta know about this, right?” 

“Sure, it sounds like all the big Fell-Touched players in the city know about it,” I confirmed. “They work within the system the Ministry created. I’d be fall down shocked if Blackjack wasn’t totally aware of the whole thing. But he’s not gonna tell a brand new member of his group that kind of secret.” 

“I’m still not sure about this,” That-A-Way admitted. “But I’ll keep going along the hypothetical ‘this is all true’ route for now. That said, what does that have to do with Pencil and the Scions? Or that cabin?” 

This was the big one. Even bigger than getting them to believe the bit about the Ministry. I had to be careful how I explained this. “I followed some of those Ministry guys the other day when they kidnapped a girl and tried to kill her. Apparently she had some kind of secret information or proof about the Ministry or something. Anyway, I saved her and she ran away. Then I found her later and listened to her talking to… umm… someone on the phone. She called him her dad, but…” I shook that off. “Anyway, the point is, there was something about the girl and her dad wanting revenge against the Ministry for someone named Anthony Tate. I looked into it. He’s a kid who used to live here, then moved to Texas and died in a car crash. Supposedly.” Ohhh this was getting so close to secrets I really shouldn’t talk about. The thought made me cringe inwardly. 

That-A-Way spoke up into the brief silence. “Okay, wait, wait. Who’s this girl? And that Anthony Tate, who’s that?” 

“LIke I said, a kid who used to live here before he supposedly died in a car crash with his parents in Texas.” I offered a shrug. “I don’t know how he was connected to that girl… umm, Paige Banners.” 

That-A-Way dropped her flashlight and tripped over a rock, cursing as she almost fell. It took her a moment to scramble across the ground to find the light. “What–who?” 

“Paige Banners,” I repeated. “She’s the girl I saved, I found out her name later. That’s one of the names I had Eits look into,” I admitted to Pack. “I thought her dad lived here, but apparently she’s like… adopted or something? I don’t know. Point is, she was on the phone with someone she called her father, and they were talking about getting revenge for that kid dying or… something. Anyway, Eits looked into it, found out this guy Robert Parson was a bodyguard or something. He was in the car with the Tates too, but he survived. So we were looking for his address. That’s the address you got from him, the one those assholes wanted. I guess Pencil and his people got the address from Eits’ phone, cuz they got to that place too.” 

“But what did they want with this guy?” That-A-Way demanded. She sounded like she really needed to sit down. Which was another thing I could definitely sympathize with. 

“I guess he pissed Pencil off somehow,” I replied, shrugging once more. “I really don’t know the details. All I know is Pencil wants this guy dead, so he’s in hiding. Which means I can’t get answers out of him about this Ministry, or Anthony Tate, or this Paige girl.” 

That-A-Way was silent for a few long seconds, staring ahead as though deep in thought. Finally, she exhaled long and loud. “This is a lot to take in, dude. I don’t–” She cut herself off from whatever she had been about to say, correcting it to, “I’m not sure what to… say, you know? If I’ve got this right, you’re claiming that there’s a secret underground group that manipulates heroes and villains everywhere in the city, and that this random schoolgirl, whatever her name–” 

“Paige Banners,” I reminded her. 

“Right, Paige Banners,” she nodded. “This Paige Banners and her dad, who isn’t the dad who lives here in town with her because she’s adopted or something, are coming up with some secret plan to attack and hurt the Ministry as payback for this Anthony Tate dying. You looked into Anthony Tate, found this Robert Parson guy, went to his address, and got jumped by Pencil, who is also after him?” 

“And the Scions also beat the shit out of Eits to get that address,” Pack quickly put in. 

“Yeah, and Eits got hurt,” That-A-Way acknowledged, turning to shine her light at me. “Is that about it?” Her voice was a bit dull from the shock of taking all of this in. 

“Ummm…” I winced. “Did I mention that it sounded like that girl’s real dad is in Breakwater?” 

“Breakwater,” That-A-Way echoed. “The inescapable supervillain prison. He’s just… calling out of that.” She stopped walking, putting one hand against her face with a long, heavy sigh. 

“This is kinda why I didn’t want to dump all this on you guys,” I managed a bit weakly. 

“I get that,” she murmured, finally moving her hand to look at me. “Look, I don’t know how much of this is true–okay, hold on. What I mean is, I believe you believe what you’re saying, but I don’t know how much power this Ministry actually has. But, I’ll keep quiet about it for now. I want to… investigate it for myself, okay? I’ll do it quietly, I swear. I won’t bring up the actual name or anything. I just want to find out more.” 

“Same,” Pack agreed. “I’m morbidly curious about these people. Especially if part of my money is going to them.” 

After a moment of hesitation, I slowly offered, “Well, if you guys really want to find out more about this group for yourselves…

“I know a pretty interesting secret about the mall.” 

Previous Chapter                                Next Chapter

Eighteen 6-04 (Heretical Edge 2)

Previous Chapter                                      Next Chapter

A/N – Despite Fossor not appearing in this chapter, there is a summary at the bottom for those who are sensitive about this general storyline. 

My mother and I walked together in silence. Neither of us said anything else for a few minutes as we moved further away from the dining room. My gaze was on the floor, my heart somewhere down in my stomach. Why? Why did this son of a bitch have to ruin what should have been the single most joyful moment of my life? I was with my mother. I should have been happy! I should… I should have been happy. 

Instead, I was silent, not trusting my voice. I didn’t even know if I should say anything. Fossor would probably eavesdrop on everything, and I didn’t really feel like letting my emotions at finally finding my mom be some kind of obscene entertainment for that fucking piece of shit. 

I didn’t really pay attention to anything about where we were going until I felt open air and looked around to see that my mother had led me outside. We were moving through one of the flower gardens and I found myself looking toward the blossoms while wondering just how long the necromancer had been working with Kwur to pull this whole thing off. It was a bitter thought, the knowledge that Dakota’s family had been killed and she herself had been so thoroughly traumatized just as part of a plan to eventually kidnap me. As if I didn’t owe that fucker enough pain already. The fact that I’d gotten through an entire meal without uselessly hurling everything in sight at him, including myself, while he was so close had to be some kind of miracle.  

To be honest, if there was one thing I really needed right about now, it was an actual miracle. But something told me that my mother and I were on our own in that regard. Tabbris couldn’t get to us. None of the people on the outside had any chance of helping. Not in any reasonable timeframe, anyway. Dare, Deveron, Avalon, Gwen, Tabbris, Sariel, Gabriel, Athena, none of them could help this time. Whatever came next, unless I wanted to sit here as Fossor’s prisoner for years and suffer through whatever his idea of a good time was, would be up to us, not them. 

Finally, Mom stopped. Her hand found my shoulder, making me come up short before she simply stood there beside me. Glancing over, I saw her look toward the mansion. Her eyes were on one window in particular, and stayed there for a few seconds before she slowly stepped around to face me. Our eyes met, and I saw… something I didn’t expect. There wasn’t sadness, or pain at the fact that I had been brought here and was now a prisoner as well. In her eyes, I saw… power. I saw determination, the kind I had tried to show Fossor when I told him he would regret starting this whole thing, but so much stronger. I saw certainty, power, and utter fearlessness. I saw the Joselyn Atherby who had once inspired a rebellion that nearly tore apart the entire Seosten-created Heretic civilization when she was still barely more than a child. 

“Felicity,” she began in a soft, tender voice. But that tenderness wasn’t weakness. There was a strength in it that I couldn’t yet begin to truly understand. My mother had, for so long, stood as a titan in my thoughts. Only now, seeing her like this, did I really see how she could be that same titan to others. The strength in her, the gift she had for raising others so high, was there now. After ten years as Fossor’s prisoner, after he’d had so long to break her, so long to destroy that spirit in an effort that had culminated now with the abduction of her daughter, she was still here. After having her first children stolen from her just to make her surrender, she had survived. After choosing to have her life, her family, her memories, her very self taken away in order to save her people from generations of blood-curse induced slavery, she had survived. 

After choosing once again to sacrifice her own freedom to this monster in order to protect another of her children, and spending over ten years as his slave, forced to bear him a child who had been corrupted, destroyed, and eventually killed, she still survived. 

Joselyn Atherby, Joselyn Chambers, her name didn’t matter. She was and would always be the woman who had taken Bosch Heretic society apart at the seams. She was and would always be a leader, a titan, a hero. 

She was and would always be my mother. 

Swallowing hard, forcing down the lump that had taken over my throat, I straightened a little and met her eyes. “Mom.” I said that single word, before stepping forward. I’d hugged her before, but this was different. This was us, together and in as much privacy as we could possibly have in this situation. My arms wrapped around her tightly, and I felt hers do the same. I felt that same strength I’d seen in her eyes, the way it held me up. She gave that strength to me, from that seemingly endless well within her. 

“Whatever happens, whatever comes next,” Mom quietly, “You are not going to be alone. Do you hear me? Wherever I am, wherever any of us are, you’re never alone.” 

Unlike her, I realized. Mom had been alone here for so long. Almost no one had remembered her. Dad and I thought she abandoned us, and I had spent most of those missing years hating her. She had been here, alone save for her son, whom Fossor had eventually turned into the monster that I had known. 

“I’m sorry.” The words felt empty and worthless as they left my mouth. But I had to say them anyway. “Mom, I wanted to save you. I wanted to fix everything. I thought I was ready for him, he told me he was coming on my birthday and–and I thought we could stop him and plan for… I didn’t think he’d…” My eyes closed, and I felt the tears rush to them before I forced them back. 

Mom’s grip tightened around me. She held me up as my own legs felt weak. “My sweet, brilliant little reporter,” she murmured before kissing my forehead. “Maybe not so little now. But brave. My brave girl. Are you dead?” 

I paused, frowning a little before shaking my head as I leaned back to look at her. “Dead? No.” 

Meeting my uncertain look with a soft smile, Mom quietly confirmed, “Of course not. You’re alive. That, Lissy, is what matters. Whatever happens, survive. Live. Come what may, every day that you open your eyes is a day when things might change. Every moment you survive is another moment when he can make a mistake. Especially now. Fossor believes that having you here gives him the edge. But it also means that our deal is ended. And while he has his magic and his threats against you to keep me in check, the power of that binding arrangement is over. He may find that to be more trouble than he realizes.” 

Tilting my head, I found a hesitant smile to match hers. “You know he’s probably listening to everything we say? Or at least recording it for later somehow.” 

“He knows how I feel about him, and I would say it to his face,” Mom replied simply. Her hand touched my cheek. “But in this case, he’s not listening. We have privacy, for now.” 

“But how… how do you know for sure?” I pressed uncertainly. 

Stepping back, Mom took my hand and started walking. “Because while I may not be strong enough to physically challenge that man at this point, returning my memories returned many important spells I learned in the old days. Believe me, if that magic is enough to stop members of the Committee from eavesdropping, I would know if any of Fossor’s ghosts were spying on us.” Pausing then, she shrugged before adding. “And he will simply force one or both of us to tell him of any actual plots we might make against him anyway.” 

Turning a sharp look to me with that, Mom pointedly continued, “Which is why any plan either of us come up with cannot last longer than it takes for him to force the truth. He has a place called the Writing Room, which forces you to write the truthful answers to any questions he asks. And he will use it often, particularly now, until he feels that he has a handle on you. You will be forced to write only the truth to his questions, but you can be as specific about that truth as you wish. Do you understand? He can’t just ask general, all-encompassing questions and get anything helpful. They have to be somewhat specific. If he does not ask the right questions, his ability to force the truth to them is less useful. Also, the Writing Room does not force you to put things in any particular order, especially with more open questions. If he asks if you have any plans of how to break out of this place, you can start by writing down any random plan you like no matter how unlikely it is to ever happen. If he asks you to write down every plan you have, just put more and more absurd plans until he stops you, because the Writing Room has limited power. You see how it works? If he’s too general, you can waste time and the room’s power by listing far more useless examples and including intricate but meaningless details before it gets to the parts you don’t want him to know about.” 

Right. Ammon had mentioned the Writing Room and told me about it back when he showed up at Crossroads, I remembered, slowly nodding. “I get it. I don’t know how much good it’ll do, but at least it’s something. I’ll… try.” There were a few things I really did need to keep secret, that was for sure. Though ‘I was contacted by your dead sister but she disappeared and I haven’t seen her in a long time so I guess that didn’t amount to much now that I’m here’ might just be worth seeing the look on his face. To say nothing of the fact that I had a miniature virtual Chayyiel slumbering in the back of my head. Even if she hadn’t left anything too dangerous in her virtual self considering she was just supposed to tutor me, the idea of Fossor having any access whatsoever to her was still a horrific thought.

Still, it was unlikely that he would think to ask something specific enough to draw that out. At least I hoped not. But honestly, I was afraid of any question he might ask. I didn’t want to tell that monster anything at all. Nothing. But I was pretty sure he had an extensive list of questions for me that would dip into the extremely personal. Either because he thought it might actually give him important information, or just for the hell of it. Because he was an evil son of a bitch and would get so much satisfaction from making me share personal details about my life. 

“I never wanted you to come here,” Mom informed me gently, her hand cupping the side of my face. “But we don’t obsess over regrets and wishes. We live in the world that exists. We change the future, not the past. You understand? We will get through this. We will survive. Whatever it takes, whatever we have to do, we buckle down and we survive. We move on. We wait for our moment, because it will come. Take the hits, let him think he’s won. Because we only need one moment. He has to be careful every moment of every day. All we have to do is watch for the one time when he’s not careful enough.” 

I knew that a big part of this was just Mom trying to make me feel better. But I also knew that she really believed it. She had to. It was both who she was and the only way she had stayed sane through all of this. She couldn’t let herself surrender to doubt and despair. And frankly, if she could keep herself going through all this time, including seeing me dragged in here to join her, and not give up, I could do it too. 

“Watch for the moment,” I echoed with a slight nod to my mother. “I can do that. I… I will do that, Mom.” Staring at her, I felt tears rush to my eyes once more. Blinking them away so I could keep seeing her, I swallowed hard and quietly added, “I love you.” 

Her fingers gently brushed over my face, and my mother leaned in to kiss my forehead once more, with a softly whispered, “My sweet girl. I love you more than I could ever tell you.” 

“You have told me,” I assured her, my voice cracking a little bit. “Mom, are you crazy? Look at what you did for me. Look at what you’ve done for me this whole time! if I didn’t know you loved me after all of this, I’d be the world’s biggest… idiot.” It was hard to force those last few words out past the lump that had returned to my throat. “You’re right. No more apologies. No more… regrets. I’m here, you’re here. And we’re gonna get through it. You and me, we’re together, right?” After a brief pause, I admitted in a barely audible voice, “But I’m still scared.” 

“Oh, my girl.” Embracing me once more, Mom quietly assured me, “It’s okay to be scared. But we’re stronger than the fear. We’ll push past it. We’ll deal with it. We’ll face it.” 

With that, she released me and took my hand instead, squeezing it as she started to walk with me through the flower garden. “Well now, you had an interesting first year, didn’t you?” 

“Oh… yeah, you got that upload about the war and all that too, didn’t you?” Looking to her, I quickly added, “Gaia did most of that. It was her big idea and… and she set it up.” 

“Gaia is very smart,” Mom agreed. The account of her voice, I was pretty sure she was thinking of examples from her own childhood. Then she looked at me. “But your little magic tell-all didn’t actually tell all. I want to know everything that happened last year. Can you do that for me?” 

I knew what she was doing. Mom needed to clear her head and think. And at the same time, she wanted me to calm down. So, she was trying to get me to tell her stories that would make me focus on other things besides our current situation. Not only would that give her time to think and collect herself, it also allowed her to listen to me, hear my voice, and watch me. 

And I was okay with all of that. So, I took a breath and started with, “I guess the best place to start is my last night at my job at the theater…” 

******

Obviously, I didn’t get through the entire story that day. If I was actually going to write down everything that happened to me last year it would probably take at least a million words. Maybe two. There was no way Fossor would leave us alone for that long. So I just got as far as I could before we were interrupted by a ghost that popped right up out of nowhere. Mom was fine, but I jumped, and I saw the way the ghost smirked a bit. He’d definitely done that intentionally. But did that mean Fossor had done it on purpose, or was this just this particular ghost’s personality? 

Either way, the ghost actually spoke. It was in a voice that was low, yet somehow still boomed and echoed around us. Which was… weird. It also gave off a chill through the air. “Lord Fossor has requested that the two of you be escorted to your room for the evening, Missus. He has graciously decided that you may sleep together for now.” The ghost looked to Mom then before adding, “Your normal nighttime dressing rules have been suspended for the time being. Now come.”

We walked and I looked at my mom with a frown. “What does he mean, normal nighttime dressing rules?” I had some ideas but I was really hoping that they were completely wrong.

I saw the slightly pained look that crossed my mother’s face and she was silent for a few moments as we walked. Finally, she answered in a quiet voice, “As part of his effort to remind me of his total ongoing control, I am to wear only what he decrees at any given time. In the bedroom, that is nothing.” 

Well, now I just wanted to throw up again. Mom admitted that humiliation in such a simple, dismissive voice. But I could see beyond that. I could see and hear just how frustrated, angry, and… and helpless that made her feel, even if she had brought it under control. Having to admit the situation to me had probably just brought those long-buried feelings roaring back to the surface. Which, of course, was obviously the entire point of the ghost being told to say that in front of me so I’d ask about it. Fossor was enjoying himself with all this, even in his pretense at being gracious.  

Yeah, I didn’t believe for one second that Fossor was allowing my mother to wear clothes at night out of the goodness of his heart. He was playing an angle. He made sure I knew about the rule, ‘graciously’ suspended it rather than extending it to me (oh God, I was gonna be sick), and expected gratefulness. I was fairly certain that either tomorrow or very soon, he would bring up reinstating the rule unless one or both of us did some kind of favor for him. We would have to earn that kind of leniency.

And that was just one small manipulation. I had no doubt there would be more, and worse. This was what my entire life in this place was going to be like. Fossor was just getting warmed up. Unless my mother and I got out of here soon, things were going to get very bad, very quickly. 

We stopped in front of a door and the ghost who was escorting us pushed it open to reveal a very nice bathroom complete with a large whirlpool tub. “The child will bathe here and dress in the nightclothes provided on the counter,” he ordered. “The mother will bathe in the room across the hall.” He pointed that way, to a matching door. “When either is done, they will wait in the hall for the other, then the mother will take the daughter to her room for sleep.” 

Mom gave me an encouraging nod, squeezing my hand and leaning in to whisper that we’d be okay. Then she, clearly reluctantly, released me. I sighed, giving her a wave before stepping into the bathroom and turning to close the door. 

“Funny…” A voice from behind me spoke up, prompting me to nearly jump out of my skin and spin that way. I saw a young girl, her figure greenish-blue and partially transparent. Another ghost. A special ghost. 

“My brother always said he wanted to live in a place with a lot of bathrooms, because he was tired of waiting for his turn,” Fossor’s dead sister, Rahanvael, informed me. 

SUMMARY

Flick and Joselyn have a discussion. Joselyn assures Flick that she would know if they were being spied on due to the fact that getting her memories back restored her knowledge of all the privacy spells she previously used in the rebellion. She also informs Flick of more details on Fossor’s Writing Room, a place where he can force anyone to write the truth to any question he asks, and how to beat it by including as many irrelevant details as possible. The two have some emotional moments before being escorted to separate bathrooms to clean up. Flick walks into her bathroom, closes the door, and is met by the ghost of Rahanvael, Fossor’s long-dead sister.

 

Previous Chapter                                      Next Chapter

Ready 11-04 (Summus Proelium)

Previous Chapter                                                 Next Chapter

Laying on the floor of Bobby’s cabin, still paralyzed by whatever that thing was that Pencil hit me with, all I could do was watch helplessly as the man looked at That-A-Way, standing over me, and Pack at the door with Mars Bar towering behind her. Holiday the panther-lizard was there too, somewhat between all of us with the paralyzing gun held in her teeth as she snarled angrily. 

No, no, no. What was going to happen now? Why were they here? How did they find us? I knew I should have been grateful to see them, and a big part of me was. Okay, most of me was. But another part was terrified that something bad would happen to the two of them. Paralyzed as I was, I was helpless to do anything to help, which was beyond terrifying. And it wasn’t like Pencil was just some bad guy. He was one of the nastiest Fell-Touched I’d ever heard of. He was immune to basically anything anyone could do. What the hell was going to happen here? How would they actually stop him, considering that entire experienced hero teams had set out to do that and failed, some dying in the attempt?   

That was what scared me the most. It wasn’t suffering and dying right here with Pencil enacting his revenge for hurting his sister. It was being forced to see him do that exact same thing to Pack and That-A-Way. Because they were only here to help me. If they died, it would be because of me. Because I couldn’t handle my own problems. Because I was weak. 

For his part, Pencil didn’t exactly look all that concerned. His gaze took in the panther-lizard  who had stolen his weapon, before moving to look at the others. I could practically see the thoughtful expression on the face behind the mask. When he spoke, his voice was curious. “Now, what exactly could have made the three of you such close friends that you’d come all the way out here like this?” He raised a fist to his chin, contemplating. “Oh, was it really that bit at the hospital? Was it? I’m really gonna blush if it turns out I’ve inspired the brand new besties bond you’ve all got.” After a second, the man added in a conspiratorial tone, “Really, don’t tell me you two see your pal here as a little brother. Because trust me, we all know where that goes. Him in love with both of you and you not seeing him that way because you’re just such good friends. And no one wants to live through that kind of cliche. It’s 2020, let’s try to move past triangles, people.” 

As Pencil said those words, the rage that had been clear in his voice when he had come after me a moment earlier for hurting Cup had been replaced by what sounded like genuine amusement at this new situation. It was like being hit with something this unexpected, instead of pissing him off, actually intrigued him. Apparently he just enjoyed being surprised that much. So much that he forgot about that whole being pissed at me for Cup thing. In any case, whatever was going through his mind right then, I was pretty sure that none of us wanted to know about it. 

“Here’s what’s gonna happen,” Pack informed him. Her words were punctuated by matching growls from Mars Bar and Holiday. “I’m going to step out of the way to that side of the door. My big buddy here is gonna step the other way.  Then you are going to walk out of this building and get the hell out of here before this gets any worse. Everyone walks away to fight another day.” 

“Or,” That-A-Way put in, “you can push it and see if being immune to damage helps you very much when it comes to a giant grizzly-lizard sitting on your psychotic fucking ass until the authorities get here. After all,” she added, shifting her weight a little, “We don’t actually have to hurt you. We just have to stop you from leaving. I’m pretty sure you don’t have super-strength.”  

For a moment, the monster in the mask said nothing. He simply glanced back and forth at all of us, adopting a thoughtful posture before eventually speaking up. “That is a very fine point you raise, young lady. A very fine point indeed. You’re probably right, I’d be… hard-pressed to budge your personal Yogi over there, if push came to shove.” He gave a tip of an imaginary hat toward Mars Bar. “And yet, I find myself with one very important question. While your bear is sitting on in this hypothetical scenario, what… precisely would your invisible gorilla-lizard be doing?” Even as he said that, the man was abruptly pivoting on one foot with a snapped, “Let’s ask him.” 

With those words, Pencil’s hand snapped out. A knife leapt from his sleeve before being driven into what looked like thin air. Thin air that drew a thick line of blood and a squeal of pain. 

“Twinkletoes!” Blurting that name, Pack threw herself that way while the formerly invisible figure appeared, a deep gash through his side as he collapsed to the floor, moaning. How had Pencil known he was there? Was it just a guess? How had he known exactly where to aim the knife? 

As Pack lunged to the fallen Twinkletoes’ side, Mars Bar and Holiday leapt to the defense of their partner. With a cabin-shaking roar, the bear went after Pencil like a runaway freight train, while Holiday tossed the gun aside and added her own roar while lunging from the other side.  

Far from being intimidated however, Pencil simply pivoted once more. His foot lashed out in what looked like an awkward, gangly kick. Seriously, I thought he was about to fall over. It was like a clown kicking someone, all wild flailing and no coordination. But despite that, there must have been decent force and skill hidden behind the deceptive appearance, because Holiday was immediately sent crashing to the floor with a yelp from the impact against her nose. 

At the same time, his hand, with the already-bloodied knife held tightly, lashed out and backward. It cut through part of Mars Bar’s descending arm and drew even more blood than the first swipe had drawn from Twinkletoes. Wherever he had hit the lizard-bear must have been important, because the roar turned to a pained squeal and that massive arm fell uselessly against the power-mutated animal’s side, as if the limb was as paralyzed as I actually was. 

The bear’s arm being out of the way gave Pencil room to duck and twist, throwing himself behind the suddenly-stumbling creature. His every motion looked goofy and awkward. It looked like he should fall flat on his face any moment. But I was already certain all of it was an act. He was like a clown or something, his motions purposefully intended to look goofy and uncoordinated while actually being very precise. He clearly had an incredible amount of athletic and combat skill. He was just hiding it behind what looked like bumbling actions. 

Just as that thought came to me, That-A-Way sprang to the aid of the others. Or, she tried to. Suddenly teleporting almost directly behind him and to one side, she produced her stun baton and swung it. Pencil, however, was not taken by surprise. He doubled over backward, almost like he was going through an extreme limbo contest. Laughter, mocking and derisive, erupted from the man as the baton passed just over his head. At the same time, he pressed some kind of hidden button on the knife. Instantly, a cloud of dark red gas shot from a hole at the edge of the knife hilt, right next to the blade itself. The gas went straight into That-A-Way’s face, and she stumbled, squealing and coughing while the baton fell from her grip. Pencil, still bent over backward, caught the falling baton in his free hand, hurling it with what looked like contemptuous ease toward Pack, who was just looking up from Twinkletoes. She took the baton to her chest, yelping and collapsing on top of her gorilla-lizard from the burst of electricity. 

No, no, no! This was exactly what I’d been terrified of. Everything was going wrong. Pack was twitching and yelping on top of the already-injured Twinkletoes. Mars Bar was stumbling, one arm useless. Holiday was still picking herself off the floor. That-A-Way was down, coughing and sputtering while flailing blindly from whatever that gas had done. Everything was going wrong and it was all my fault. They were here because of me, here to help me, and I was too paralyzed to actually do anything to help them. Move, I ordered myself. Move right fucking now!

It didn’t help. Straining as hard as I could, I still couldn’t push past the effect of that stupid weapon. They were going to die, they were going to die and it would be my fault. Damn it, damn it! 

Then, just as my panic and terror hit the breaking point, something totally unexpected happened. The sudden blaring of a car horn from outside filled the air, stopping Pencil in mid-step. At the same time, bright headlights abruptly flared to life, shining in through the window.  

As the sound of the horn was fading, a familiar figure in a black-blue bodysuit with an attached short-sleeved white robe and hood appeared in the doorway. Skip. She stood there, regarding the whole situation seemingly impassively for a moment before addressing Pencil flatly. “By all reports, you are protective of the one called Cup. If so, there is a situation outside that you will be interested in resolving. Unless those reports are wrong, in which case…” Trailing off, she looked to us, then to Pencil before simply turning her back to him to walk out of the doorway and away from the cabin. 

In that moment, I was pretty sure Pencil completely forgot the rest of us even existed. He went through the door an instant after Skip disappeared, fairly sprinting that way. Because Skip was right. For all his murderous psychotic evil bullshit, he actually genuinely cared about Cup. His sister… his lover… whatever she was, he cared about her. I knew that first-hand. 

I also knew that if he had the chance, he would skin every single one of us alive and watch us spend hours screaming for even insinuating that she could be in danger. This could blow up in all of our faces really easily. 

Pack was back on her feet, hand already outstretched to grab That-A-Way and pull her up. She had Twinkletoes and Mars Bar (newly returned to their normal, uninjured lizard forms) on either shoulder, while Holiday stood guard at the door. Both of the girls were looking at me with obvious worry written through their body language. 

And then, then my constant attempts to start moving finally paid off. My fingers twitched, and a sharp gasp of air escaped me as I jerked upright with a suddenly violent cough. The paralyzing effect was gone. I could move again. 

Just in time for That-A-Way to kick me none-too-gently in the leg with a muttered, “Idiot.” Then she turned to run for the broken doorway. 

Pack, meanwhile, grabbed my hand to haul me up. “What she said. But I’ll wait and kick you after we get out of this.” 

Quickly, I joined them and the three of us ran out to the porch in time to see Pencil standing about thirty feet away. The man was brightly illuminated by the headlights of a car. Standing next to the car was a figure in dark purple body armor with speakers along the sides and a helmet with a wide V-shaped visor that had multi-colored lines flickering across it. 

Broadway. It was Broadway, another one of Pack and Eits’ teammates.

Just as we made it to the porch, the headlights turned off and the light inside the car flipped on. That revealed Skip, sitting in the driver’s seat. More important was the figure sitting next to her in the passenger seat, bound and gagged. Cup. 

As soon as he saw her, Pencil took a step that way. But he stopped at a sudden blaring of the car horn when Skip used her free hand to hit it while simultaneously extending a hand through the open window with some kind of large container. She gave it a toss, and it came tumbling across the dirt to land near Pencil. Immediately, I recognized both the look and the smell. Gasoline. It was a mostly-empty gasoline can. 

Broadway gave a kick then, sending another can tumbling over to join the first. “Heya, Fuckface. You see Cup there? The eeeentire inside of that car is totally drenched in that gasoline. You give her any reason to, any reason at all, and Skip is gonna use that lighter she’s got to flame on. Then she’ll drive away. Cuz, you know, the fire won’t affect her. But it’ll sure as hell affect Cup. So she’ll light her on fire and then she’ll drive away. We’ll see how far she gets down the road before the car explodes. Are you a fast runner? Maybe you can get to her before she suffers too much. Maybe you could even do something about the flames. But here’s the thing. Even if you do save her, your lady friend there still gets to suffer horrifically first. Maybe she dies, maybe she doesn’t. But she definitely suffers. And the longer it takes you to get to her, the longer she suffers, the more likely she dies.” 

She bent, picking up the end of a rope that was lying there before tossing it over to the man. “So here’s what’s gonna happen. The other end of that rope is tied to the back of the car. Skip’s gonna pull out and start driving slowly down the road. You’re gonna hold the rope and follow until you’re all past the gate. Then she’ll teleport back up here and you can get the lady out of the car. You try to come after any of us first, Cup goes fwoom. You try to get closer to the car than the length of that rope, Cup goes fwoom. You pull anything, Cup goes fwoom. And maybe you can take all of us down. You are magically immune to everything, after all. Maybe we can’t take you. But what you’ve gotta ask yourself is, just how much would Cup suffer in the meantime? Would she even survive? What kinda shape would she be in? Take the rope, follow the car all the way down to the gate. Or push things right now and see how the girl there likes being a superhero for once. Specifically, the Human Torch.”

For a moment, Pencil didn’t say anything or move. He seemed to be studying Broadway as though gauging how serious she was, how likely it was that she and Skip would actually follow through on that threat. I was staring at them too. Jesus Christ, that was hardcore. Not that it was exactly surprising, given the kind of people Pencil and Cup were. If you were going to threaten them, you had to go for the gold. And I was pretty sure the threat being specifically against Cup was the only thing that made the man take it at all seriously. He cared about her. She might be the only thing in the world he did care about. But still. I had to ask myself if they’d really do it. Which, I supposed, was the exact same thing Pencil was asking himself at that point. 

Finally, he turned to look straight at me. His hand rose, giving what looked like a casual wave. But I knew there was far more behind it. He would never let this go, not for any of us. I’d directly pissed him off more than once now. I’d hurt his sister. And now the others had threatened her life, had threatened to kill her in a gruesome, horrific way. All of us had made this personal to him, and he was not going to forget or forgive that. This might be put on pause now, but it wasn’t over. 

“So long, kid,” Pencil announced while the eyes behind that mask practically bore a hole straight through me. “I’ll catch you later.” And boy did those words have a hell of a lot more meaning behind them than that phrase normally did. 

With that, the man stooped, grabbing the rope. Immediately, the car started up and Skip pulled it around slowly to point it back toward the road before heading out just high enough speed that Pencil had to lightly jog to keep up. While we all watched in silence, the car and attached psychopath both gradually vanished down the road out of sight. 

Finally, once the car and Pencil were gone, Broadway exhaled audibly and slumped over. “Hoooly shit, dude. Tell you one thing, I am super-fucking glad that didn’t go wrong. I mean, yeah, it still could. But I think we might actually pull this off. Thanks for playing distraction in there while we set things up.” She turned to me then, waving. “Hey there, nice to finally meet you, Paintball.” 

“I–” I started to say something, before blanching. Pivoting away from them, I sprinted several feet before collapsing to my knees by some bushes. My hand pried up the mask enough to let me throw up. It all came out in a rush, while Broadway made disconcerted sounds in the background. To their credit, the others all stayed away while my mask was up. All they saw was my back. 

Finally, it was done. My whole body was sore and I was still a bit woozy. Plus my throat hurt from hurling. But there was nothing left for me in my stomach. Awkwardly, I tugged the mask down with one hand, making sure the hidden mic was still in place before pushing myself up and turning. 

That-A-Way and Pack were standing there, arms folded as they looked at me. Broadway was on the other side of the clearing, watching the road. 

“Are you okay?” That-A-Way asked a bit pensively. “Seriously, are you…” 

“I’m okay,” I managed, biting my lip. “I mean, I… they didn’t do anything that bad. He was saving it for later.” 

“Good,” Pack put in, sounding relieved, like a sudden weight had lifted from her shoulders. Then she added, “I’d say a lot more, but it’s time to get out of here. We’re supposed to meet Skip on a little service road down the other side of the forest, that way.” She pointed off behind the cabin. “There’s another car parked there waiting for us.” 

“It’s a bit of a hike,” That-A-Way noted. “But it shouldn’t be hard. 

“And on the way, you can explain just what the hell is going on.” 

Previous Chapter                                                 Next Chapter

Eighteen 6-03 (Heretical Edge 2)

Previous Chapter                              Next Chapter

Note that there was a commissioned interlude posted yesterday. If you have not seen that yet, you might want to click the previous chapter button above. 

As previously, the summary is at the bottom of the chapter for anyone who does not want to read the chapter. 

We had dinner. It was… bad. Well, maybe the food was okay. I didn’t really taste it. Actually, I’m sure it was technically delicious because Fossor wouldn’t have settled for anything less than his own definition of perfect. He had laid out a feast of epic proportions, the kind of meal that kings would have been proud of, with only the most succulent meats, fresh breads and vegetables, and so much more. 

And I tasted none of it. It was all just… sand in my mouth. My body was hungry. Famished, really. Something about time travel and possibly spending the whole day (technically weeks ago) dealing with Kwur. My body needed fuel, but I just… I couldn’t taste it. I didn’t want to taste it. I could barely keep it down. Every bite made me want to double over and throw up. Every bite made me want to grab the plate and hurl it into Fossor’s smug face. Every bite made me feel like a traitor who was just lying down and rolling over for this son of a bitch’s own amusement.

But I ate. Because I’d meant what I said to him earlier. I was going to beat him. I was going to ruin his life even worse than he had ruined mine or my mother’s. I was going to make him regret ever finding her back then and definitely regret taking her away and enslaving her for over a decade. I didn’t know how I would do any of that, but it started with not letting myself die of hunger. It started with keeping my strength up, no matter how awful eating this shit made me feel. Starving myself would accomplish nothing. So, I forced the food down almost mechanically, lifting the fork to shove it in and swallowing without thinking about what I was actually eating or who was sitting across from me.

Instead, I focused on who was sitting next to me. My mother. My mom was here. Her hand had settled against my back the moment I sat down and hadn’t moved. She ate with one hand while keeping the other against me. She squeezed my shoulder, brushed my hair, and in general just kept touching me throughout the entire meal. I wasn’t sure if she was doing it more to remind me that she was there, or to convince herself that I was real. Maybe it was both. Either way, I focused on her presence. I hated Fossor with every ounce of my soul. I wanted him to die more than I had ever wanted anyone dead. But my mom was here. She was here, she was touching me. After all these years, after so… so much had happened, I was actually with my mom. 

Whatever came next, I would handle it. We would handle it. My mother and me. I was going to get out of this evil place with my mom. No matter what we had to do to make that happen.  

Yeah. That was what I told myself while mechanically shoving food into my mouth and swallowing. Because it was the only way I could make myself eat, the only way I could force down the food instead of throwing up, the only way I could… avoid the creeping feeling of despair and hopelessness that had been trying so hard to engulf me since the moment I appeared in this place and saw Fossor in front of me. The touch of my mother helped with that, but I also had to focus on my own blindly stubborn insistence that I would get through this. 

Because if I gave in to that feeling of despair, if I let the thought that I would be trapped here forever get the slightest foothold, it really would be over. Fossor would have won. And I would rather light myself on fire and jump into a fucking volcano than lay down and let that happen. 

Unsurprisingly, while my mother and I were silent through all of the meal, Fossor kept talking. He was in a very good mood, enjoying his meal while regaling us with a story about some time back in the eighteen hundreds when he had been hunted by a Heretic with some kind of personal vendetta that Fossor didn’t bother explaining. He ended up letting the man live for a couple decades while constantly killing anyone he got close to until the man finally took his life. At which point, Fossor reanimated him and set the now-risen Heretic to wiping out the town he had grown up in and erasing it entirely from the map. Now, the Heretic, or his zombified body, still worked for Fossor. Apparently he’d been made into one of the gardeners for the estate, trimming hedges and generally keeping the grounds as immaculate and perfect as possible. 

I had the funniest feeling that Fossor was telling this story to show us the lengths he would go to in order to destroy us if we gave him a reason. It was an implied threat of what would happen to the people we cared about, and of what he would make one or both of us do if we pushed him. 

That and I was also pretty sure he also simply enjoyed the opportunity to gloat about what he’d done to someone who’d had the nerve to bother him. He liked having my mother and me as a literal captive audience to hear anything he wanted to say. Which made me wonder just how often she had already heard this story and those like it. She’d been here over ten years now, forced to sit quietly and listen to his horrific stories. How did she even survive those years? How were we going to survive this when neither of us could possibly stand up to him? We were on Fossor’s turf. The entire Committee couldn’t get past his ability to transfer anything they did off to his literal billions of human shields back on his world. Anything that Fossor was hit with, he could simply ignore and make one of his own people suffer the effect. Kushiel had been bad enough as someone who could reflect damage to any person or creature she had looked at recently. But Fossor? Fossor was that times a million, times a billion. He had literally an entire planet’s worth of hostages that he could shove damage off onto. What in the living hell could my mom and I possibly hit him with that could get past something like that? Even if my mother was no longer technically bound to obey his every word by the oath she had taken, what could we do that hadn’t already been tried? She wasn’t strong enough to fight him even if it was just her, let alone with me to protect. And I certainly couldn’t stand up against him. 

We had to do something unexpected, something outside the box. I just… had no idea what that could be. Not yet, anyway. That was why I had to keep eating, why I had to keep my strength up and watch for an opening. I had to believe it would come. I had to believe that one of us would think of something. Because believing that was the only way I could go on like this.

Startling me out of my private musings, Fossor abruptly raised his voice. “But don’t you go thinking that I’ve forgotten the most important part of tonight’s meal!” There was a broad, knowing smile on the man’s face when I glanced reluctantly up at him once it became clear that he was waiting for that. “After all, what kind of man would I be if I neglected my girl’s birthday?”  

His girl. He kept calling me that. Every time he did, I wanted to scream at him. I wanted to throw up, scream, throw myself at him, claw at his eyes, rip his throat out with my teeth. I wanted to make him bleed and suffer for that, for all of the insinuations behind it, for what he’d done to my mother, for… for everything. I wanted to make him suffer and die almost more than I wanted my next breath. I hated him. I hated him even more than I’d thought was physically possible.  

My mother’s hand squeezed tight against my shoulder. I could feel the tension in her, the way she too wanted to lunge across the table and bash this psychotic piece of shit’s face against the table until there was nothing left of his head but mush. I could almost see it happening. Not that she’d ever get that far, but still. I could see it. I could dream it. 

Apparently amused by whatever he saw in our faces, Fossor gave a soft chuckle before raising his hand to snap his fingers. As he did so, the doors on one side of the absurdly large and ornate dining room we were in (the table would have been large enough to seat thirty people comfortably, as the three of us used one end of it) opened up, admitting a man in a white chef’s uniform and hat. He came in pushing a large silver cart with one of those trays with the lid. Once he neared Fossor, the chef plucked the tray off the cart and set it neatly on the table in front of us, in the only empty spot that wasn’t already taken up by food. At a nod from his master, he took the lid off the tray to reveal… a cake. It was a huge, gorgeous, delicious-looking chocolate raspberry birthday cake. Written on it were the words, ‘Happy Eighteenth Birthday, Felicity!’ 

Okay, now I didn’t just want to throw up, I also wanted to make sure to do it all over this fucking cake that Fossor was clearly so proud of. He smiled at me knowingly while holding his hand out expectantly toward the man who had brought it in. Promptly, the man set a package of red and blue candles in the waiting hand. Then, as Mom and I watched, the necromancer calmly and carefully placed eighteen of them one by one into the cake. He did it without taking his eyes off of me, obviously wanting to watch my reaction. The man was getting a real kick out of this. It made me want to grab the large knife from the table and shove it right into his throat, for all the good it would have done.

Instead, I simply stayed silent and motionless. I felt Mom’s hand on my back, her fingers brushing down my spine. When she spoke, it was in a tight, barely constrained voice. “You shouldn’t have done this.” 

Did she mean the cake? Or did she mean abducting me? Or did she mean taking her all those years ago? Something told me that she meant the latter two, and was using the cake as the best opportunity to actually say that. She was telling Fossor essentially the same thing I had, that he was going to make sure he regretted starting this whole thing. 

More than ten years. My mother had been his slave for over a decade, and she wasn’t broken. She had seen his entire plan succeed, keeping her and abducting me even after giving me a warning about his intentions. She saw all that, and yet she hadn’t given up. She saw her son be corrupted into the monster he’d become and then… and then found out that he had been killed, but she wasn’t broken. She was here. She was here with me. So, I could do this. I could stand up for as long as it took. I would get through this with her. Please. Please let me get through this with her. 

I wanted to be stronger, smarter, better. For my mom. I wanted to be the person who could help her get out of this. I wanted to help my mother. I wanted to be more than I was. I wanted to turn this around. 

But I had no idea how to do that. 

Once all the candles were in the cake, Fossor raised a single finger. As he did so, a new ghost appeared. This one was so much smaller than the others I’d seen. Really, it looked like the ghost of a pixie or something, only a few inches tall as it hovered in the air above the table. It was also red, with orange flaming wings. At a look from Fossor, the pixie-ghost extended a hand toward the cake, and all eighteen candles immediately lit up with tiny flames. 

The ghost disappeared, and Fossor gestured with a proud smile. “There we are. Now, dearest heart, let’s sing to our girl, shall we? Then she can blow out the candles and make a wish.” With those words, he winked at me, clearly knowing exactly what I would wish for if I had that kind of power. This was all a game to him. He was playing this up, relishing in his ability to force Mom and me to go through the motions of this charade. He knew how we felt, what we wanted to do to him. And he knew we were helpless to actually do any of it. 

This was the kind of thing Mom had done for the past eleven years, I realized. She had to indulge his whims, play out his stupid games. There was worse stuff too, I knew that. The fact that Ammon had existed proved that much worse things had happened to my mother in that time. But this, this whole… constant playing along with his pretenses, that… that couldn’t have been easy for her. She had sworn to obey him, and I was starting to get a very slight idea of what that had meant. Even if I was sure we hadn’t really scratched the surface yet. This was simply yet another thing added onto the list of reasons this piece of shit needed to die. As if there weren’t enough already. 

With that same knowing smile, Fossor started to sing Happy Birthday. After the first few words, Mom joined in. I felt her hand gently stroke my back, the song somehow twisted by Fossor’s voice and the fact that she was being forced into this. Even this small, oh-so-familiar tune, innocent and… and nothing, was corrupted and ruined by this moment. From now until the day I died, whenever that was, I probably wouldn’t be able to hear this song without thinking of this moment. 

Which was the entire point. It was just Fossor twisting things again, tainting an innocent song and ruining it. He was enjoying all of this, enjoying the fact that he had this much control. He was relishing the simple idea that he could take something this innocent and carefree and turn it into something awful. 

But it was more than just the song. It was my birthday. It was my reunion with my mother, and the fact that he’d managed to turn even that into something bad, by forcing it to happen in front of him and on his terms. It was the fact that he was ruining, twisting, corrupting all of those things. It was the fact that he was completely in control of all of this, and all three of us knew it.

As the song finished, Fossor watched me expectantly. I was supposed to carry on this absurd charade by blowing out the candles. A half-dozen possible other actions ran through my mind, each one of which would be satisfying in the moment, but would also make things worse. Just like my mother had to worry about how the necromancer would punish me if she acted out, I had to think about what he would do to her in retaliation to something I did. Much as I wanted to do something else, I slowly leaned forward, watching the man before giving a short blow to put out the candles. I did not, however, make a wish. The thing I wanted most of all wasn’t going to happen because of a wish. It was going to happen because my mom and I made it happen. 

Smiling broadly, as if this was actually just a totally normal family birthday celebration, Fossor plucked up the large knife that had been sitting there and began to cut out pieces of the cake to put on clean plates. “I do hope you’re still hungry, girls. I’m sure you’ve been waiting quite a long time for this one.” 

A long time for this one? Something about the way he said that made me blink at the cake. It took a second, then I realized. The cake. It was chocolate and raspberry. That was the exact kind of cake I had told my mother I wanted for my next birthday back before she was taken. It was… it was the cake we talked about way back when I was that innocent little girl. I… he had clearly gotten Mom to tell him about it. That fact, the idea that he’d been able to get something so… mundane and ordinary out of her somehow made it even more clear just how much control Fossor had over my mom. 

We ate the cake. Like the rest of the meal, it was probably delicious. But also like the rest of it, I didn’t care. I couldn’t taste it. All I could focus on was the violation I felt, and the understanding of just how far Fossor would go, of how much he clearly knew about my childhood.  

Finally, mercifully, the meal was over. As several ghosts took away the used plates, the psychotic monster who had gone so far to tear apart our family sat back with a smile of satisfaction. “There we are. Now, what do we say, girls?” 

Feeling Mom’s hand against my back, brushing gently, I glanced to her. She gave me a nod before speaking up. “Thank you for the meal.” Her voice was flat, with no real meaning behind it. But Fossor seemed satisfied that he’d made her say it. 

Then he looked toward me. Again, the rush of things I wanted to say was almost overwhelming. But I forced it down and quietly thanked him through tightly gritted teeth. 

“That’s my girls,” Fossor announced with a broad smile, gesturing. “I would say you’ve earned a little time together. It is Felicity’s birthday after all. Go on then, take a walk. Enjoy yourselves for awhile. You know the rules, Joselyn. But don’t stay up too late. We’ve got a very busy day tomorrow.” Even as he finished saying that, the man was snapping his fingers as though he’d just remembered something. “And don’t you worry, Felicity, I haven’t forgotten about presents. I have the perfect one in mind. But you’re not getting it until tomorrow morning. And don’t try to get the secret out of your mother either, it’s a surprise for her too.” 

A present… that Fossor thought was perfect for me, and that he was keeping as a surprise even from my mother. 

“I really don’t want that present,” I informed my mother in a quiet voice as we stepped into the hallway. “But… is it weird that I expected that whole thing to be worse than it was?” 

“He’s distracted by something,” Mom informed me flatly. “I don’t know what. But… something. And even then, he knows you’re worried about when the next shoe will drop. You expected it at the dinner, and it not dropping while you worried about it the whole time was amusing for him. It’s all part of his game. In this case, defying expectations.”

“Any idea what this present is?” I asked tentatively, even though Fossor had said she didn’t know. 

“None,” came the answer. 

“And that is what frightens me more than anything.”  

SUMMARY

Flick and Joselyn have dinner with Fossor while he tells them a story about being a psychotic asshole to a Heretic he eventually killed and made into a zombie who tends the gardens. Flick worries about how she and her mother are going to get out of this before Fossor presents them with a birthday cake. They sing Happy Birthday and Flick blows out the candles before Fossor dismisses Flick and Joselyn to take a walk by themselves with a reminder not to stay up too late. But not before he promises Flick a special birthday present tomorrow.  

Previous Chapter                              Next Chapter

Commissioned Interlude 7 – Sarah and Tristan (Heretical Edge)

Previous Chapter                          Next Chapter

The following is a commissioned interlude, thanks go to the commissioner. 

With a resounding crack, Sarah Lucas (formerly Mason and more commonly known as Scout) used the wooden bat she was holding to send the baseball she had just tossed into the air sailing out far into the distance across the park-like field in the middle of the housing neighborhood that she and other students her age had been assigned to. There were dozens of others in the park, most of them hanging out in pairs or trios here and there. Sarah was alone, watching as the baseball sailed away. Once it came down and rolled across the grass, she focused on a fairly new power she’d been working out over the past couple days. Kneeling, the brunette girl thrust one hand (her normal, flesh and blood hand) down through the grass and dirt at her feet. At the same time, her hand emerged up out of the grass right next to the ball. She grabbed it, then pulled her hand up, watching as her hand in the distance went down, then came out with the ball in her grasp. 

It was, obviously, a strange feeling. Essentially, she could put any of her four limbs (as well as anything she was holding) through any surface and make them emerge out of any relatively identical surface within her line of sight. She’d needed a way of practicing with it, as well as a way to take her mind off of… things. And hitting baseballs out was a good way of doing both.

As she was rising to her feet to hit the ball again, a voice called, “Hey, Scout!” Tristan Moon, coming into her line of sight, winced and gestured with realization. “Right, sorry, Sarah. Hey, Sarah.” The blond boy flashed a brief, perfect little smile. He looked like one of those teen heartthrobs who belonged on a poster taped to the walls of any number of young girls’ bedrooms. At least, that was what Sarah had heard more than one of her Bystander-kin classmates say. They also said that it was as if the boy (and his twin sister) had been artificially created in a lab to be incredible crush-fodder. Which was just how being part-Seosten went, she supposed.

“Hi, Tristan,” she answered simply, voice quiet as she watched him curiously. “Are you okay?” 

His mouth opened, before the boy stopped. He took a moment to collect himself, heaving a heavy sigh. “You mean am I okay that it’s now three days until Flick’s birthday, she’s been missing for weeks, and that pretty soon she’s going to end up being a prisoner of the same psychotic fucking piece of shit who’s been holding her mother prisoner for a decade and who also caused the Black Death?” After saying all that, he sighed, looking down. “Sorry. I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant to say, it just started slipping out and then I couldn’t stop it.” 

He looked over to her then, adding, “I guess I’m just feeling like… if we hadn’t taken off that anchor spell, I’d still be connected to Flick. Then, when she was taken like that, maybe I would’ve been yanked along with her. And if I was, maybe Fossor wouldn’t’ve been expecting me, and we could have taken him by surprise. At least enough to escape, you know?”

Sarah blinked, blinked again, and then spoke up in a flat voice. “Don’t be stupid.” She said it outright, loud enough to be heard while looking straight at him. Which might not have seemed like much, but it was more than she might have done a year earlier. Just being able to speak audibly with others, to be out here alone without her sister, was testament to how much had changed. For years, Sarah had essentially behaved as little more than Sandoval’s shadow. The trauma of what had happened to their mother had left Sarah barely able to function. She’d needed to withdraw, had needed to fold in on herself and allow her sister to speak for her, only able to whisper to her. Every time she had tried to be more vocal, the horrific memory of hiding from that monster on the boat, having to be completely silent while it taunted her with her mother’s voice, had resurged. 

But now, her mother was back. Her mother was alive. And more than that, Sarah was stronger. She knew what the monster who had attacked them was. She knew who the woman who had saved her was. Namely, Sariel Moon, Tristan’s mother. And yes, it was technically also Sariel whose scent the Fomorian had followed to the ship in the first place. But even if the Seosten woman hadn’t been there, the Fomorian just would have attacked any other given Heretic in the area at the time instead of waiting for the Seosten he had smelled. The Fomorian was already in Crossroads waters. Either he would have stayed there and hunted down any students or staff who wandered out in the ocean, or he would have found his way onto the island itself. 

It may have been Sariel’s scent that made the Fomorian attack then, but eventually he would have attacked someone regardless. Maybe it would have been when Sarah and Sands were playing down at the beach. Maybe Sarah would have lost her sister forever, or other friends. Or even herself. Maybe they would’ve lost an entire class to that monster before he was stopped.

The point was, there were plenty of ways it could be worse. And dwelling on all that, holding grudges for things that weren’t intentional and couldn’t be changed, was a waste of time and effort. There were plenty of people who deserved to be hated. Sariel Moon had been doing the best she could at the time, and had already suffered far more than Sarah would ever have wanted. Sarah herself had spent too much time worrying that Sariel would be angry with her for being a helpless child who distracted her from focusing on protecting Sarah’s mother. 

Which just went further to prove that wasting time on ‘could have beens’ and grudges was stupid. What mattered was the future. And that was why she had said what she said. 

Tristan, for his part, was staring at her. “Stupid?” 

Sarah nodded firmly, using the end of the bat to push against the boy’s shoulder. “You wouldn’t be able to escape. You’d just be another prisoner. Actually, you’d probably be dead. Fossor wouldn’t have any reason to keep you. He didn’t want you. You’d be extra. He’d kill you and then Flick would feel even more guilty. And your family would be broken again.” 

Taking all that in, Tristan flinched. “Right. Yeah, I know. I know, it’s dumb. I just…” He trailed off into a heavy sigh, folding his arms across his stomach while his brow furrowed into a frown. “I spent years with Flick being this… hero to me. I met her when I was still a little kid, and she was awesome. Her and Shiori both. She was brave and strong and… and everything. For years, that was the memory I had of her. Then I came back. I got back to Earth and she was the same girl. Because it was only like a month later for her. She was the same person, and I just… I had a crush on her for awhile. I got over it. But I still always thought that I’d be able to help her when she was in trouble. She helped me get my family together. More than once, actually. She helped get me to Grandpa Nick and being linked to her brought me back to my sister, and she helped bring our mom and dad back. She just… Flick did a lot and I wanted to be there for her when she needed me. I wanted to help her the way she helped me.”

“So be there,” Sarah replied simply. “Be there when you can actually help. Be ready to help any way she needs you to. Flick’s not dead. She’ll need help later. So be ready later.” 

“Yeah, I…” Tristan hesitated, glancing at her. “You’re pretty smart, you know? I mean, you always were. I just… you’re like… wise. I just–” Interrupting himself with an embarrassed cough, the boy rubbed a hand across his face. “I’m glad I have you to talk to.” The words sounded awkward coming out of his mouth, as if he wanted to say one thing, but wasn’t sure how, so he said that instead. 

The fact that he sounded awkward made Sarah feel awkward. She hesitated, staring at him for a long moment before remembering what she was holding. “And play baseball with?” she finally managed, holding the bat out to him just for an excuse to actually say something. 

The boy’s charming smile returned, clearly an automatic reaction, as he took the offered bat. “Sure,” he replied easily. “And play baseball with. That… that thing a second ago with the whole sticking your hand through the ground thing, that’s new, right?” 

Sarah confirmed that with a short nod. “Yes. I… It was a hunt that Sands and I went on with our mom a couple days ago.” She perked up a little then, smiling slightly while adding, “Sands can make mushrooms.” 

That was enough to make Tristan do a double-take. “Err, ‘make mushrooms?’” 

Despite herself, Sarah couldn’t help but snicker a little at that reaction. “Yeah, mushrooms. She says it’s like… water droplets on the tips of her fingers. When she shakes them off, the droplets can grow up into mushrooms wherever they land. She can make little ones or big ones. I mean really big ones. Like… she made a mushroom as big as we are, but it took like a minute.” 

“Giant mushrooms,” the boy echoed. “And they’re like… are they edible or what?” 

“The normal ones are okay,” Sarah informed him. “They don’t really taste like anything, but they’re not bad for you and they have a lot of nourishment. But Sands can make them really bouncy or really hard too, like rubber or steel. You can bounce on the rubber ones, it’s fun.” 

“That I… that I really have to see,” Tristan murmured, chuckling a little despite himself before blinking at her. “Shit. It feels bad to laugh right now.” 

“Laughing doesn’t mean forgetting there are bad things,” Sarah reminded him. “We can worry about Flick and also keep going at the same time. When there’s a chance, we’ll help her. We’ll be there. Right now, we keep going. That means living. That means knowing that there are still good things too.” 

Tristan was… looking at her. It made her shift a little uncertainly, realizing that he had been staring at her throughout all of that. Which got worse as the boy murmured, “Yeah, you’re right. There’s definitely good things to focus on.” 

Both of them stared at each other briefly, Sarah searching desperately for something to say before finally blurting, “Baseball!” Even as the word leapt from her mouth, she was blushing, pivoting to walk away quickly. “Baseball,” she repeated, as though that actually meant anything. Only once she had taken a few steps did the girl manage something vaguely more coherent. “I’ll throw the ball for you. Pitch. I’ll pitch it.” Crap, crap, what was wrong with her? This always happened when it came to trying to talk to Tristan. She started out okay, talking about other, unrelated or innocent things. Then one of them would say something that made them both think about… not-so-safe things and the rest would just come out jumbled. She’d forget how to talk, how to think, or anything useful. Half the time she babbled something incoherent and wandered off. 

Ugggghhh, what was her problem? She liked him. She knew she liked him, had known it for awhile. But every time the words or even thought came to her while actually standing there with the boy, it got all twisted. She got nervous, she babbled, or even forgot how to talk. She could fight. She could calmly shoot monsters in the middle of a battlefield, keeping track of where all her friends were to provide support when they needed it. So why couldn’t she do this? Why couldn’t she just tell the boy she liked him? 

Maybe because if he rejected her or something went wrong with their relationship, she couldn’t just shoot him. That was a terrifying thought. Because if she told him she liked him and he shot her down, that would be bad. Horrifying, really. She’d be embarrassed, but she’d move on. If, however, he accepted it and they… and they dated for awhile before breaking up, how would that change things? 

That was the problem. That was the biggest problem. Because Sarah had seen the way her mother and father were torn apart. Her mom and dad… her dad was on the wrong side. She loved her father. She didn’t like him right now. She wanted to punch him in the face repeatedly. But he was still her dad. And yet, she knew that her father and mother didn’t belong together. And after seeing what happened with them, how they were enemies now, how could she ever deal with being that close to someone and then being their enemy? 

How could she be that close to anyone and not lose herself in the background of them the way she had lost herself in the background of Sands? That wasn’t Sands’ fault. It wasn’t. Her sister had always been there for her. She had been what Sarah needed–what Scout had needed. and yet, now that she had grown out to be her own person, a part of Sarah was terrified of ever being an ‘and Scout’ again. She had spent years letting Sands speak for her, years being ‘Sands and Scout’, that the very thought of being in someone’s shadow, of being more known for being a part of someone else than her own person, made her reject it. 

“Sarah?” Tristan called from his position with the bat. “Um, are you okay?” 

Realizing she had been standing there lost in those thoughts for the past few seconds, Sarah quickly nodded. Shoving those thoughts aside, she took up her position, eyed the boy for a moment (that was a bad idea, given the thoughts she was trying to ignore), then wound up and pitched the ball to him. 

For awhile, they continued that way. She would pitch the ball, he would hit it (or miss), and Sarah would use her new power to retrieve the ball wherever it ended up. They did that for twenty minutes or so, before both decided to stop. Together, the two headed for the house they shared with Sands and Vanessa, along with Koren, Aylen, Gordon, Jazz, and Eiji. 

About halfway there, Tristan spoke up. It sounded like he’d been trying to say something for awhile. “Hey, ahh, Sarah, I was thinking about what you said back there. You know, about how we should remember to keep living and that there are still good things and all. And uhh, that just, I was wondering if you might ummm…” He cleared his throat awkwardly. “I’m still trying to catch up on movies that came out while I was lost in space, and since there’s a lot of movies you haven’t seen either thanks to that whole raised by Heretics thing, I thought maybe you might want to find one we both haven’t seen. And watch it. Together. At the same time. Just us.”

By that point, Sarah had stopped walking. She stood there, looking at the boy as he stopped as well. Her mouth opened, shut, then opened again as she managed, “You mean… together?” A brief pause, then, “Like a date?” That was hard to say. Because as obvious as it might have seemed that that was what Tristan meant, the worry about how embarrassed she would be if it wasn’t what he meant was almost more than she could bear. And yet, she needed to ask. Because she had to be absolutely certain about what this was supposed to be. 

Tristan, in turn, swallowed audibly. He was bouncing on his heels a bit, giving a very tiny laugh before suddenly looking openly horrified. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to–I mean I wasn’t trying to laugh at–it was just–yes. Yes, I was trying to ask if you wanted to watch a movie like a date. I–I think you’re really awesome. Which is totally duh because of course you’re awesome, you’re amazing and smart and pretty and really tough and wow I need to stop talking.” Reaching up, the boy shoved his own mouth shut. Then he opened it once more to quickly blurt, “I like you and I’d like to spend time with you.” That much added, he deliberately pushed his mouth shut again before pantomiming zipping it. 

After a moment of indecision, Sarah started by quietly explaining what she had been thinking about. She didn’t immediately agree or reject him. Instead, she told him her fears. She told him about being worried over what would happen to their relationship if things didn’t pan out. She told him about her issues with what had happened to her own parents’ relationship, as well as her fear of becoming someone’s shadow again. 

Tristan listened to all of it. When she was done, he took her hand and squeezed it. “Sarah, first, I… I think you should talk to someone like Klassin Roe about all this too. I think you should have someone… someone neutral who can listen to all of this and help you understand it better than I can. You’ve been through a lot of bad things and… and you should have someone you can talk to about it who actually knows what they’re doing. 

“That said, I meant everything from before. You’re awesome. You’re pretty. You’re smart. I would love to hang out with you, I would love to… to be whatever you want this to be whenever you need it to be that.” Settling on those words, he interlaced their fingers. “I really do want to watch a movie with you. And then another movie sometime. And then another movie sometime after that. If one of those movies turns into something more than that, great. If they don’t, that’s okay too. Because you’re awesome, and any time I get to spend with you is better than any time I could spend somewhere else.” 

Sarah’s mouth was dry, a thick lump in her throat making it hard to swallow. Finally, she managed it, finding her voice with some effort. “Okay, Tristan. 

“Let’s watch a movie.” 

Previous Chapter                          Next Chapter

Ready 11-03 (Summus Proelium)

Previous Chapter                                      Next Chapter

I was in trouble. Yeah, that was a fucking understatement. I was on the far side of a fence, not even out of earshot from a pissed-off Pencil and two of his psychotic Prev minions. At my feet was a dazed, barely conscious Cup, and all around me was a nearly pitch-black forest. To top it all off, my hands were cuffed behind my back, making this whole thing even more complicated than it already was. And if Pencil caught me again, I was pretty sure him just straight up killing me was the best I could hope for. More likely, he’d make me scream for a few hours first. 

That wasn’t just speculation either. It was, in general, the gist of the threats I could hear coming from the fence area in between Pencil ordering his man to finish disabling the electricity and alarm. That was why he didn’t just ignore the shock himself, given that it wouldn’t actually hurt him, I realized. He didn’t want to set off the alarm, because… because he didn’t want to alert Robert that we were here? Was he really actually afraid of what Rob–never mind. Seconds. I had seconds before those three would be right on top of me. 

Using one finger, I turned slightly to shoot a bit of black paint at Cup, just in case. The last thing I needed right then was her managing to orient herself enough to use her power on me. If she did that, I was basically dead. I wouldn’t snap out of it before Pencil managed to catch up. 

There was no time to do anything else. I couldn’t even try to get my hands in front of myself. It would have taken too many of the precious seconds I didn’t actually have. Pencil was already vaulting the fence. I could hear it rattling. Quickly, I turned, activating another small portion of purple paint on me before lashing out with a kick to Cup’s face. She stopped her silent groaning and fell flat. Unconscious, for the moment at least. Stooping, I grabbed her hands and gripped them tightly. Casting a quick look over my shoulder, I saw Pencil dropping off the fence and turning to sprint our way. He probably couldn’t really see us from there, not with the shadows of the trees added to what was already a pretty dark night. Still, he was coming straight for us, with the two minions right behind. I had to move, now!  

Silencing myself as well, I took off running while dragging the unconscious Cup behind me on her stomach. With the purple paint, I barely felt her weight. And as long as she was with me, conscious or not, the cuffs wouldn’t force me to the ground. I could do this. It was awkward as hell, running while literally dragging a full grown woman behind me with my hands cuffed like that. But what else was I going to do, let Pencil catch up and do any of the horrific things he had in mind? Running blind through the dark forest while dragging Cup was the only option I had. 

Except it wasn’t… really like running blind, was it? Because just like my last time traveling through the woods at night, I wasn’t stumbling nearly as much as I should have been. Sure, it was a bit unwieldy, running with Cup like this. But it definitely wasn’t as bad as I would’ve thought it would be. I instinctively knew when to duck from branches I couldn’t actually see. I gave a little hop now and then, passing right over thick roots or low bushes that would have sent me sprawling. Most people running through a nearly pitch-black forest in the middle of the night with their hands cuffed behind their backs probably would have eaten dirt within a few seconds. But I just… didn’t. I knew where and how to move to avoid hitting anything, even though there was no way I could have seen any of it in time. Particularly given I was running flat out, with a good portion of my attention centered on listening to the sound of pursuit. It was just… instinct of some kind? 

Whatever, I wasn’t going to question it. I didn’t have time to question it. All I knew was that I had to keep moving. The sound of Pencil’s pursuit faded somewhat as I gained ground on him, but I could still hear the psycho and his two minions not too far behind. All three had flashlights they were shining around, the beams flickering wildly back and forth as they searched for me. 

Briefly, I worried about one of them opening fire before realizing that they wouldn’t risk hitting Cup. They still hadn’t been able to get a good look at me and were simply following the trail I left in my wild flight. So maybe it was time to do something to make following me a bit harder. 

First, I renewed my own purple paint once more before using my grip on Cup’s hands to put a bit more black paint on her. Keeping her silent was just as important as anything else right now, and I didn’t trust her not to wake up at some point in this and immediately use her power to put an end to my escape. As long as I could stop her from talking, she’d be a hell of a lot more manageable. I just wished I’d had the time and materials to actually tie her up, or do… anything other than dragging her along by the hands. 

Fortunately, for now, she was still knocked out. But I kept the black paint going just in case. Then, keeping my grip on her hands, I moved one finger to point at a tree we were passing and shot a spray of white paint at it. While continuing to run, I put a whole line of white paint down, trying to judge when I only had a small amount of paint left. Then I stopped spraying, but kept running. Behind me, the sound of the three thoroughly pissed off pursuers grew louder from my hesitation. They were close. Too damn close. If I waited any longer, they’d be right on top of me. Then I’d either be dead, or just wish very badly that I was. 

But the worst thing about all of this? I missed running through the dark forest with Paige. At least she hadn’t been dead weight who would also have tried to kill me if she was awake. That was how far I’d fallen. I missed Paige Banners. What in the seventeen hells was my life? 

At least I didn’t panic. I focused on the sound of the men running. I judged where they were, all while also sprinting through the dark woods. How? How could I run like this, drag this unconscious girl behind me, navigate a totally unfamiliar forest in the middle of the night while also listening to my pursuers and accurately judging exactly where they were in those same unfamiliar woods? How? 

It was ridiculous. I shouldn’t have been able to. But I did. I knew, without question, exactly when the men reached the spot where I had left that line of white paint. Which meant I knew exactly when to trigger it. 

I’d left enough paint right there that, as it activated, that whole area of the forest briefly lit up. It was incredibly bright. Knowing it was coming, I had closed my eyes just in case and was faced away. But I still saw a bit of the flash. Being right on top of it would have been utterly blinding.  Which, given the sudden new litany of screaming curses coming from back there, it really was. And it was more than a flash, actually. The light continued on for a full ten seconds, making it even harder for my pursuers to see where they were going. 

But that was just step one of plan ‘lose these assholes.’ The second the flash triggered, I also painted the boots on my feet bright blue and triggered the last of the purple paint that I had prepared on the inside of my costume. With the added strength, I leapt as hard as I could, triggering the blue paint on my way down. The impact from the jump against that blue paint rocketed me up and forward. With Cup held tightly, I went flying through the trees, breaking through a handful of branches on the way. Coming down, my feet landed for an instant. But the blue paint on my boots was still active, so I was launched upward again and kept flying. 

For the next ten seconds, I kept essentially bouncing my way through the forest. Each blue-and-purple-paint assisted leap carried me a huge distance, while my weird and unexplained subconscious knowledge of where all the trees and such were meant I could safely make those leaps without slamming headfirst into an obstacle. In the brief time that my pursuers would have been blinded, I put as much distance between us as possible. It would be a lot harder for them to track me accurately with so much space between landings. They couldn’t easily track my footprints when those footprints were at least sixty feet apart. 

Finally, I had to stop. Partly because I felt Cup starting to shift in my grip. She was waking up. So I dropped both of us down, releasing the bitch before hitting her with more black paint. Then I pivoted to face her. 

Yeah, she was awake. She wasn’t happy or fully coherent, but she was awake. Her eyes blinked at me blearily, barely visible through the moonlight that cut through the trees. Even with the white mask covering the bottom of her face, I could tell she was trying to speak, only to freeze when no sound came out. Even as dark as it was, I could see the hatred and anger in her sudden glare. Yup, she was becoming more coherent by the second, and was definitely pissed off. 

But guess what, I wasn’t exactly thrilled about this whole situation either. Given the choice, I would’ve left her there. But the cuffs meant that I didn’t have that choice. Instead, I had to keep dragging her around with me. 

Or did I? Wait a second. Thinking quickly, I pivoted and used my cuffed hands to shoot a bunch of red paint over the other girl. She flailed, and was already shoving herself to her feet when I pivoted back the other way, shooting one bit of red toward the nearby tree. As Cup made it up, hand grabbing for something in her costume, I triggered the paint while diving out of the way. With a silent yelp, she was hauled through the air, slamming face-first into the tree. Oops not oops. 

Of course, the thing Cup had been grabbing was a gun. It fell to the ground as she was yanked through the air. I heard the thump of it landing and saw the outline of it right at my feet. Quickly, I kicked it off out of sight before moving to the psycho currently held tight against the tree. She was struggling, and I heard her voice start to cut in just in time for me to hit her with a quick shot of black paint. 

Ten seconds. I had ten seconds before the red paint would release her. Which meant I couldn’t exactly be gentle or careful about this. Instead, I shoved my back right up against hers, pinning her even more fully against the wood. My cuffed hands frantically felt up her pants for pockets while I found myself muttering, “Sorry, sorry, I know you’re a fucking psycho, but sorry.” One by one, I shoved my hands into her pockets, searching them as quickly as I could while trying to ignore the unfortunate… positioning and circumstances. 

Gum, a notebook, a pen, a switchblade, no key, no key! Damn it, please don’t say it fucking fell out while she was being dragged back there. If it was lying somewhere in the woods, I was screwed. 

Finally, shoving one hand inside her back pocket (and really trying to ignore how awkward that was), I found it. The key. It was there. My fingers closed around it, and I jerked away from her, half-stumbling before pivoting back to face her. Unlocking the cuffs behind my own back wasn’t exactly easy, but I had a trick. Namely, I brushed my finger over the cuffs until I found the keyhole. Then I shot a tiny dot of red paint into that keyhole. With my other hand, I found the tip of the key, painting that red as well. 

With that done, I just activated the tiny dots of red paint on both, and the key was immediately yanked straight into the hole. I pivoted, grasping for it with my fingers. Just as I got hold of it, Cup fell backward off the tree. The red paint had worn off, which meant the black had definitely–

“How many–” 

That was as far as I let her get. Still holding the key with two fingers, I lashed out as hard as I could, kicking Cup in the back. It was enough to stop her from talking, knocking her forward into the tree with a yelp. Using the bare couple of seconds that gained me, I twisted the key. The cuffs popped open, and I let them fall to the ground with a clatter before quickly shooting black paint at Cup once more. That shut her up again, just as she was trying to talk. 

The black paint did not, however, stop her from turning and diving at me. I went down hard with the older, bigger girl on top of me, landing on my back while her fist slammed into my chin. Her eyes were wild in the moonlight, her fist colliding with my face so hard I almost saw more stars in front of me than were visible in the sky through the trees. Fuck, I missed my helmet.

Then she hit me a third time, and ended up regretting it. Because I didn’t have my helmet, but I did have orange paint. That time, her fist didn’t hurt me at all, while she made a flinching motion. Adding purple paint, I shoved her off me, lashing out with a kick into her stomach that doubled the crazy bitch over. Before she could recover, I quickly kicked out again to knock her legs out from under her. It was Cup’s turn to fall on her back. 

It was also her turn to wear those handcuffs. Before she could recover, I grabbed the cuffs from the ground, linking them around her wrists. They clicked into place, just as a flashlight beam swept nearby. My gaze snapped over that way, and I saw them. My pursuers were coming fast. I didn’t have time to do anything else. But hopefully dealing with Cup would slow them down. 

“Later,” I whispered, patting her on the back before tucking the key in my pocket. Then I painted the outside of my costume completely black, activated the silencing power, and took off running. A bit of green on my shoes lent a bit of speed, letting me haul ass away from that spot. 

Go, go! My hands were free and I didn’t have to lug Cup around anymore. Plus, they wouldn’t be able to get her out of there very easily without the key that I was carrying. This was my chance to get to the cabin ahead of them and warn Robert. I just had to keep fucking moving!

So, I did. With my hands freed, I was able to move much faster, using a mixture of blue and red paint to bounce and yank myself from tree to tree, with added green for speed. Ignoring the darkness entirely, I practically flew through the unfamiliar woods. Cabin. I needed to find that cabin, but how? The road. Look for the road. But even that didn’t help too much. The road could be anywhere, considering how I’d blindly fled through the forest with Cup earlier. I had no idea where I was now in relation to that road even before adding in how much it could have wound its way through the forest. 

In the end, I realized I was being stupid. Height. I needed height. At the next tree, I yanked myself to the top, dropped blue paint on the final sturdy branch, and launched upward over the canopy to get a better view of things. 

There. Lights. There were very clear house lights off in the distance. That had to be it. Dark as the forest was, those lights stood out like a beacon. Instantly, I yanked myself to the next tree over and full-on raced that way. I had to get there ahead of the Scions. No matter what happened, no matter what it took, I had to warn Bobby! 

The cabin really was isolated in the middle of nowhere. It was a two-story affair that looked like it had come straight out of some storybook, with a perfectly cut and stacked woodpile on the porch beside the front door, a path leading down to the nearby stream, a cozy little handmade swing, the works. The road went right up to the lot, and I could see fresh tire tracks, but no vehicle. 

Hurriedly, I red-painted myself all the way across the clearing to the front door, knocking on it rapidly while calling, “Mr. Parson! Mr. Parson!” Looking over my shoulder, I muttered a curse and then used purple paint to shove the door in. “I’m on your side! You’re in danger, you–” 

Then I stepped in, and saw no one there. The interior of the cabin was pretty simple, and open enough that it was clear no one was there. There was the main room with a bed in one corner to the left and a living area to the right, with a television, computer on a desk, and an attached kitchenette. Across from the entrance was the bathroom, the door open to reveal that it was as devoid of occupants as the rest of the place. 

He wasn’t here. No one was here. But the lights were on. And there were fresh tire tracks. Quickly, I turned to leave. Then I saw it. A shelf on the wall next to the door, where you might drop your keys, wallet, or whatever was in your pockets. There were no keys on the shelf. Instead, I saw three small objects. Two were toy planes, one an air force jet fighter while the other had started out its life that way but had been painted bright pink with little purple lightning bolts on the wings, and an additional pair of wings that were glued to the bottom of the first. Beside both toy planes was a small action figure. 

I stopped breathing when I saw the toys. My hand covered my mouth and I felt like throwing up. I didn’t know why. I couldn’t… understand why. What was wrong with me? What was wrong with me?! Staring at those toys, my breathing grew louder, more labored. It felt like something was sitting on my chest, like… like I couldn’t breathe. It felt like… I was… cold. I was so cold. I was scared. Why? Why was I so scared? I was even more afraid, in that moment of looking at those toys, than I had been out in those woods. It was a panic attack. I couldn’t breathe, I couldn’t–couldn’t–

The sound of someone at the door snapped my attention that way. I saw the sackcloth mask. I saw the raised gun. I covered the chest part of my costume in orange paint. 

It didn’t help that much. Whatever that weapon was, it hit me with some kind of invisible force that launched me off the ground. It felt like being kicked in the chest by a horse, even with my orange paint. I was sent flying, crashing hard into the wall before falling to the ground. 

I couldn’t move. I couldn’t–my hands wouldn’t–

Pencil kicked me hard in the side, then again to knock me onto my back. He was standing over me, his powerful weapon (it looked like a futuristic shotgun with a spiral-shaped barrel) pointed down at me. “Hurts, doesn’t it?” His words were taunting. “Don’t worry, you’ll be able to move again in a couple minutes.” 

I saw the way his eyes narrowed. “Course, you hurt Cup. So you won’t live long enough for that to matter. And this time, kid, no tricks. No games. You hurt my little sister. You hurt my Cup. No one does that.” 

That was all he said. That was all he was going to say. He was through playing games, through hamming things up. Through playing, in general. He was just going to pull the trigger… and end me, while I lay completely paralyzed at his feet. After everything I did to escape, after everything I’d done… period, I was helpless. I was trapped. I was alone. 

I was going to d–

And then the window just above my head exploded. A dark shape went flying over me with a terrifying roar, colliding with the weapon in Pencil’s hands before tearing it from his grip. The shape continued on past, sliding across the cabin before whirling back to face us while snarling. 

Holiday. It was the lizard-panther, Holiday. 

In the next second, an explosion of debris was accompanied by a deafening roar, as Mars Bar announced his presence by slamming his way through the front door. 

Just as suddenly, a figure appeared over me. “Hey, asshole!” That-A-Way snapped. 

Pack, next to the towering lizard-bear at the front door, finished with, “Get the fuck away from our friend.”

Previous Chapter                                      Next Chapter

Eighteen 6-02 (Heretical Edge 2)

Previous Chapter                               Next Chapter

A/N – As before, there is a brief summary at the bottom of the chapter for those who do not wish to read details here. 

The room I had awoken in may have been a dungeon, but beyond that first doorway was what looked like a literal palace. We were in a corridor that ran to the left and right. Straight ahead, the wall was white and lined with enormous windows overlooking a beautiful garden full of exotic flowers, with a small footpath that led down to what looked like a crystal clear lake with very pretty and exotic-looking multicolored duck and geese-like birds peacefully floating on it. 

The floor under my feet was gleaming white marble, with intricate blue and silver swirling patterns throughout that were almost hypnotic. Those silver-blue patterns actually glowed a bit in the areas that I stepped on, extending out a few feet ahead and fading behind me a couple seconds after my foot lifted away from that particular spot. If you were walking down the corridor in the middle of the night, the floor would continually light the way without any assistance.

Slyly, Fossor remarked, “It makes reaching the bathroom without a flashlight so much easier.” As he said it, the man stepped over, raising a hand as though to touch my shoulder. 

Obviously, I wasn’t going to have that. Twisting away, I took a quick couple steps backward, facing him. “Touch me,” I snapped, “And I swear to God one of us is gonna fucking die.” 

Fossor, in turn, gave me the kind of look a vaguely amused father-figure might at a particularly obstinate child. “Hmmm, you know, I think that you and I might have to make sure you understand the definition of necromancer if you’re going to keep throwing those kinds of words around as if they’re an actual threat. Honestly, what were they teaching you in that school?” 

My mouth opened to snap a retort, before I glanced down to see the man standing on the marble floor. Belatedly, I muttered, “Ashes. You’re not standing on ashes.” 

I wasn’t looking at him, but I still heard the smile in his voice. “Yes, well, the land this building stands on was torn from my own world. The building itself was created with materials from that planet. Between that and some very extensive spellwork, I am able to walk comfortably in this place that I call home. This place that all three of us will call home for quite some time.” 

Oh God, there was so much I wanted to say. Bile rose to my throat, while sharp, vindictive words were right on the tip of my tongue. But what could I say? I was here. I’d had a year to prepare for this and Fossor had completely undercut all of my preparations just by cheating. I was in his house and I had… I had nothing. I didn’t have Tabbris, I didn’t have Dare, I didn’t have Avalon or Shiori or anyone. My mom. My mother was here, but she’d had ten years to find a way to escape and couldn’t do it. The two of us were trapped here and… and I honestly didn’t know how we would get out of it. I felt lost and afraid, and so very alone. I was moments away from being face to face with my mother again and yet I had never felt so far away from her. 

Because I’d failed. Everything I’d tried, every thought I’d had, every moment I’d been given, and I had utterly and completely failed. Fossor won. He tricked us. He cheated, for what that mattered, and he got me here. And now… now I had no idea what I was going to do.

Wait, wait, I could do one thing. Maybe Tabbris’s connection to me was broken, but I had Seosten powers too. And even if the time travel had broken the link I had to the last person I possessed (that random thug in Vegas, I thought?) I  should still be able to connect to my own default recall anchor: my father. 

Once again, it was like he’d read my mind, seeing my face. Fossor cleared his throat. “Ahh, just in case any ideas are popping into that pretty little head, you should know that one of the spells I connected to you when you showed up in that room happens to be a monitoring spell linked to your mother. See, if that spell detects that you’ve used either version of the Seosten recall ability, physical or mental, it’ll end your mother’s life. There’s similar things on her end to keep her here at the price of your life. But by all means, if either of you want to sacrifice the other…” 

My voice was low as I mumbled a quiet, “Just take me to my mother already, asshole.” Everything. He thought of everything.

The words had barely left my mouth before a ghost appeared in front of me. This one looked different than the others. It was taller, and more of a purple color instead of grayish-blue or silver. He had a long beard, with eyes that were pure red. As I looked up at him, his hand reached out to touch my face. Instantly, pain beyond anything I could possibly have prepared for coursed through my body. A scream tore its way out of my throat, and I fell to both knees, catching myself on my hands just before I would have face-planted against the marble floor. 

It only lasted for an instant, but that instant was enough. Every part of my body was torn through with blinding agony for that brief moment, until I knelt there staring at the glowing floor and panting heavily. I couldn’t say anything. I couldn’t even think beyond the memory of that agony.

The strange purple ghost with the red eyes spoke in a voice that rumbled up and down the hall. “In this place, you will show respect to the host. Or you will be appropriately punished.” 

I didn’t respond to that. I wouldn’t have been able to make my mouth work properly even if I could have thought straight enough to have words. Which was probably for the best, because I doubted that anything that would have come to mind would have satisfied the monstrous torturer ghost. I probably just would have ended up being… touched again. In a way, being put through so much agony (however briefly) that I couldn’t think saved me from even more pain. 

Yeah, lucky me. As it was, I just knelt there, breathing in and out in long, gasping shudders. Meanwhile, Fossor waved a hand and the strange ghost disappeared, before casually announcing, “You’ll have to forgive Ahmose. He tends to be somewhat… eager to prove his loyalty and earn favor. Although, on the other hand, perhaps you should take some lesson from that.” His voice lowered a bit, almost like he was confiding. “It may serve you well in this life.”

It took everything in me not to say something in that moment that probably would have brought Ahmose right back out again. I stared at the floor and caught my breath before pushing myself to my feet while ignoring the hand that the Necromancer had extended to me. With a grunt, I got up, biting my lip before forcing out the words, “I thought we were going to see my mom.” 

Fossor gave an amused chuckle before stepping past me. He started to walk down the glowing corridor without looking back. He wasn’t worried about literally putting his back to me and walking away. Probably because he had so many spells and ghosts and who knew what else in this place watching my every move that they’d take me to the ground before I finished taking even one step toward him with the intent of attacking the sick bastard. I wasn’t even the slightest bit of a threat to him. Not out on the street, and definitely not right here in his own home that he’d had literal centuries to prepare to withstand assault from people much stronger than me. So yeah, I couldn’t exactly blame him for not being worried about me. 

But it still pissed me off. 

With a low sigh, I forced myself to follow after him. I needed time. I needed… I needed to think. I was tired, lost, afraid, and… and just… alone. I wanted to see my mother, even considering how ashamed I was that I had been trapped here. So, I trailed after the monstrous necromancer as he led me through the corridor, past more doors that led who knew where. I was really hoping that I wouldn’t have the chance to find out. Eventually, we reached a much wider circular foyer-type room. To the right were several curved sliding glass doors leading to a patio, while a circular staircase led up to the left. Fossor went that way, ascending the stairs with a quick flick of his fingers as though beckoning me to keep following. Much as I hated all of this, I did so. 

Ascending two stories, past another corridor similar to the one we had just been in, we reached a wide open area at the top. This was some kind of entertainment area. The floor was carpeted, with plush couches and chairs surrounding a massive television and… video games? Yeah, Fossor had a bunch of video game systems laid out in front of the television, with shelves of movies and the games themselves lining the nearby wall. 

Was this Ammon’s area? I wondered that briefly, before my eyes moved past the games and furniture to yet another sliding glass door leading to another balcony. And on that balcony, I saw… my mother. She was there, wearing dark green pants and a black turtleneck while faced away from us as she gripped the railing and gazed out over the vast grounds of this place. 

Seeing her there, even from behind, I felt my heart drop into my stomach. The bitter shame and disgust that had lurked in the back of my mind roared to the forefront, and I… I almost didn’t want to see her after all. What was I going to say? What could I say? She had spent ten years being this bastard’s slave just to keep me safe, and I let him take me that easily. When I looked into her eyes, how much disappointment would I see there? 

I froze. Standing there, staring at her back, I couldn’t bring myself to move another step. A thick lump had formed in my throat, and it was all I could do not to sink to my knees in utter despair. This moment, more than any other, was when the true futility of this entire situation came to me. I was empty. I had nothing. What was I? What chance did I have to accomplish anything now? 

In the midst of my moment of anguish and self-doubt, I abruptly realized that I wasn’t staring at my mother’s back anymore. She had turned around. She was looking at me. Our eyes met, and the next thing I knew, she was in front of me, teleporting across the room to end up right there. 

The heavy pit in my stomach, the dark hole in my heart, the ugly whispers in the back of my mind, all expected her to demand to know why I hadn’t tried harder, why I didn’t use the year I’d had more effectively, why I wasn’t smart enough to guess that Fossor would try something like this. I expected her to say all the things I’d been assaulting myself with since the moment I’d ended up here. I deserved it. I–

“My Felicity.” My mother said those two words, before both of her arms enveloped me. She pulled me close, clutching me against herself. And in that moment… I thought nothing. All of my recriminations disappeared. Everything I’d been saying to myself since the moment I’d seen Fossor, every bit of doubt, fear, and self-accusation faded in an instant. All of it was gone, replaced in that moment by only one thing, a single overriding thought above and beyond everything else. 

“Mom!” The word, almost more sob than actual vocalization, tore its way out of me, before my arms were suddenly wrapped around her just as tightly as she was hugging me. The tears that came then were different from the ones that I’d been on the verge of since arriving here. Ten years. A decade apart, most of which had been spent hating my mother for supposedly abandoning my father and me. Ten years of loss, of being separated from the woman I had spent my early childhood idolizing. A decade of being adrift, of having my beacon and anchor torn away. Thousands of nights of wondering, worrying, unfairly hating, of burying feelings and wishes beneath a hard shell of bitterness. A shell that had spent these past months cracking apart with the realization of just what my mother had truly sacrificed for me. 

I didn’t care where I was. I didn’t care what else happened. In that moment, in that second, nothing else mattered. My feelings, my thoughts, my universe centered around only one thing. 

My mother was here. My mom was hugging me. 

I was seven years old, the night after my mother disappeared. 

It was two months later, the day I’d found my father crying over Mom’s sweatshirt and had viciously torn and cut apart my stuffed raccoon, Taddy. 

I was eight, seeing the newly elected sheriff sworn in, the moment the full understanding that my mother was never coming back had truly hit me. The night I had told my father I hated the name Felicity and to always call me Flick. 

I was nine, Christmas morning just shortly after midnight when I’d heard a sound and snuck out to find my father wrapping presents as he watched an old home video of him and Mom setting up the Christmas tree for the first time after they’d been married. The curtain of tears had blinded my eyes as I peeked around that corner and saw him touch Mom’s face on the television screen.

Ten years old, I was at Miranda’s house, staring at the mother’s day cards that had been set out on the table. My small hand reached out to brush over the words my best friend had scrawled in her sloppy, barely legible handwriting about hoping her mom would have a great day and could they please make more cookies together? 

I was eleven, sitting in the ER clutching my injured leg and whimpering while my father filled out forms with the nurse. My eyes drifted over to see another girl almost the same age as me, tightly holding her own mother’s hand as she too waited to be seen by a doctor. 

I was standing in the school bathroom stall at twelve years old, tears streaming down my face as I tried to figure out what I was supposed to do with my first period. What was I supposed to do with my underwear? Who could I talk to? Was the… the stuff supposed to be kind of brownish? I thought it was red. Was it really blood? Should there be more? 

Thirteen. I was alone. Miranda had just left, taken away by her family’s move. Everyone left. Nobody stayed. Everyone always left. I was in my room, staring at a picture I’d hidden in my dresser of Mom and me at the beach. In a fit of rage and grief, I broke the picture, slamming it over and over again into the dresser before pitching it away and collapsing into a ball in the corner. 

Fourteen years old, I was walking home from the first day of high school when a couple idiots caught up and started taunting me about how my mother couldn’t hack it as a sheriff and took off to be a slut for some rich guy. I didn’t defend her. I… didn’t defend her. 

I was fifteen, doing research online for a school project about the history of Laramie Falls when I saw her face. My mother. It was an article about her disappearance, and how she had never been found after taking off with an unidentified guy from out-of-town. Her eyes, staring out at me as I sat in the school computer lab, bitter and hateful words spilling from my lips before I quickly closed the article and covered my face with my hands. 

Sixteen. I was sixteen, teasing Scott about being a deputy sheriff and how he could help me catch all these bad guys. We walked past the desk… her desk, the one I’d sat on top of as a child all those times while I watched my mother do her work. 

Years, so many years. So much lost time. So many bitter memories and thoughts of what might have been. I saw it all. It washed over me in that moment, the images, sounds, smells, the taste of my own tears and hateful words. I experienced every moment.

And none of it mattered. Because my mother was here. I was holding her. She was holding me, her grip so tight I thought she might never let go. And that was fine, because I never wanted to let go of her either. 

“Mom,” I choked out, my body shuddering heavily. I was crying, unable and unwilling to control it. “I love you. I love you, Mom. Mom, I love you, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, Mom. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I love you.” 

I wasn’t saying it for eighteen-year-old Flick. I was saying it for sixteen year old Flick, fifteen, fourteen, all the way down to seven-year-old me. I was saying it for all of me, for every single second I’d lost, for every moment that had been torn away from us, for every time I could have said it throughout those lost years. 

“Baby, my sweet baby. My Lissy.” Mom’s voice shook just as much, her own body shaking as she clung to me. “I love you, Felicity. I never wanted to hurt you. I never wanted–” 

“I know, Mom.” I bobbed my head quickly, not wanting to waste time on those kinds of words. Pulling my head back without letting go, I stared at her, our gazes meeting. “Mom, I know. I love you. I love you.” 

We stayed like that for another few minutes, neither of us letting go. We said a few things, but what was actually said didn’t matter. The only thing that did matter was that I had my mom. I was there with my mother. 

Finally, Fossor spoke up. I’d… honestly almost forgotten he was there. “You see? I knew this reunion was the right thing. Joselyn, come with me. We have a few things to discuss. You can visit with our girl in a little bit. I’ll have her escorted to her room in the meantime.” 

Mom clearly didn’t want to. But in the end, she gave me a very tight squeeze, kissing my forehead and promising we would catch up. It was obvious that neither of us had the power to challenge Fossor, especially right then. And she didn’t want to get me in trouble by acting out. Now that I was here, Fossor could still hold my physical safety over her head to coerce her into following orders. 

So, Mom started off with him. He said something in her ear as she passed, and I saw the way she tensed up. But she said nothing, simply starting down the stairs. 

Fossor started to leave with her, but paused at the top of the stairs to look back at me. “You will be safe here, Felicity,” he promised. “So long as you follow the rules and listen to my instructions. I believe you’ll find that we can be a very happy family together.” With that, he turned to leave. 

“I’m going to beat you.” 

I muttered the words under my breath. Still, I knew Fossor had heard me. He stopped with one foot on the stairs, slowly turning around to face me. His eyebrows were raised when I looked up to him, repeating myself as I met his gaze. “I… am going… to beat you. Not right now. Not today. But, I promise, there will come a moment when you look at me and realize that you’ve lost everything. You’ll look at me and you’ll know that everything you had is gone, that you have failed, and that you are going to die. You’ll look at me then, in the moment before you are wiped off the boots of history like the stain that you are, and you’ll realize that right here, right now, is when you truly fucked up. Because I have spent the past year being distracted by every single threat and problem that wanted to throw itself in my way. I have been on the other side of the universe. Every single time I wanted to focus on you, something else got in my way, some other threat who thought they were going to beat me down. But now, you won. You brought me here. Congratulations. You have my full and undivided attention. 

“And before this is over, I’m going to make you wish you never found my mother that day.” 

 

SUMMARY

Led out into the hallway, Flick thinks of using her Seosten Recall to either get back to her father or at least contact him. Fossor informs her that there is a spell linking her to her mother that will detect if she does either of those things and kill her mother in retaliation, as well as one linked from her mother to her that will kill Flick if her mother leaves. She insults Fossor and is given intense pain from one of Fossor’s ghosts before being led to her mother. They reunite, Flick is very emotional about her memories while hugging her mother. After Joselyn is told by Fossor to go with him to do something while her daughter is left alone for the moment, Flick informs Fossor that because her full attention is now on him without any distractions, she is going to beat him.

Previous Chapter                               Next Chapter

Ready 11-02 (Summus Proelium)

Previous Chapter                             Next Chapter

I had no more chances to escape my captors while being escorted out of their bunker than I’d had the whole time in it. Less, actually, considering they put a bag over my head and cinched it in place. Now I was blind and handcuffed, and being guided down the hall by Cup while her brother (whom she apparently enjoyed making out with?!) and Fork trailed behind. There was no way I was going to get away from them just then. We passed through several hallways and, given the way the sound changed, also a few larger rooms. I could hear other voices now and then, some laughing or congratulating their boss, others muttering insults and threats at me. 

It was… it was terrifying. Yeah, I was supposed to be brave. I was supposed to be a Star-Touched, some bright symbol or whatever, who didn’t let this kind of thing scare them. But… I was. I was scared. My body was shaking enough as we walked that I knew they could see it. I had to fight not to let my terrified tears leak too much and blind me. How pathetic was that? How pathetic would it be to have to ask the psychotic supervillain monsters to let me please wipe the baby tears out of my eyes? Damn it, damn it, what the fuck was wrong with me? I was supposed to be brave. I was supposed to be… I was supposed to be better than this.

But I wasn’t, and I couldn’t find a way out. I was forced to just stumble along blindly while I was led to what was apparently an underground garage of some kind. I felt myself brush past a few different cars before being pulled to a stop. One of the doors was opened, and I was not-so-gently pushed inside. As I fell in, Cup shoved my legs the rest of the way. Then the bag was pulled off my head to reveal the fact that I was now in the back seat of an SUV, on the floor. From my prone position, I could see a couple random guys step up into the middle seat. They weren’t wearing masks or anything, but honestly, I probably couldn’t have picked them out of a lineup later anyway. They just looked like random, average guys I would have passed on the street without a second thought. They could’ve been clerks at the corner gas station or accountants. Anything, really. Which made the fact that they clearly worked for Pencil and worshiped the Abyssal Typhon even more disturbing. These guys weren’t polite enough to tattoo ‘sick freak obsessed with literal monsters’ across their foreheads, unfortunately. 

Cup hopped up in the back with me, stepping on my leg in the process before her heel went back to kick me in the side. Then she plopped down on the seat, a pistol held idly in one hand. “Try anything,” she informed me, “and I’ll shoot the next five people we pass on the street.” 

“You can’t go anywhere with the cuffs on,” Pencil reminded me. “So don’t try to get cute.” Then he shut the door before moving around to the driver’s side. Fork was apparently not coming. It was just the three of us heading out on this particular trip. Well, the three of us and the two random guys in the middle seat. But no Fork or other Fell-Touched, apparently. How lucky for me. Now I only had to find a way to escape my stay-down cuffs and deal with two of the worst supervillains in the city, along with a couple of their cannon fodder. Where was the challenge? 

Yeah, I wasn’t even convincing myself. I was in really deep shit. Really deep. Marianas trench deep. And I had no idea what I could possibly do to get out of it. None. I was in worse trouble than… yeah, this was the worst trouble I’d ever been in. Because I was pretty sure this time wasn’t going to end with these guys just trading my freedom for a favor, like Deicide. Laying there on the floor of the car, with Cup sitting just above me, I was genuinely afraid that… that I wouldn’t get out of this in one piece, or at all. And if I didn’t, what would happen to my parents, my family? Would they just keep being evil and… and hurting people? What would happen to Wren, or Izzy? Especially Izzy. She was stuck in that house with my evil family. And if I wasn’t there, if I couldn’t be there to help if she got in trouble, what would happen to her then? What if Izzy found out what I had and she had no one to help her, just like I had no one right now? 

I was scared. And everything running through my mind about what could happen to the people I cared about if I didn’t come back made that fear even worse. It was all I could do not to cry like a pathetic little baby as I lay there, frozen in terror as the vehicle started up, the engine coming to life with a steady rumble. And from the brief look that Cup gave me, I could tell she heard the very slight noise that I made while holding back those tears and was pretty amused by it. 

Okay, Cassidy, I told myself. Yes, this is bad. This is… this is really bad. But here’s the thing, if you do nothing, these people will kill you. They will torture and kill you, probably in the worst way possible. Either that or they’ll try to use that torture to turn you to their side, to break you. So what are you going to do? Lay there and cry about how unfair all this is, about how scared you are? Or are you going to get it together and start thinking of a way out of this? Stop sniffling and start thinking of actual solutions. Because nobody is out there. Nobody is coming for you. 

The problem was, easy as it might’ve been to think that to myself, it didn’t actually solve anything more than crying about it would have. I was still stuck here, trapped by a group of psychopaths with no apparent way out of it. My powers couldn’t get me out with these cuffs on. I still had them, but the paint wouldn’t be able to launch me out of this car and away from the Scions. If I got too far away from Cup, I’d be yanked down to the ground by too much force for the red, purple, or blue paints to counter. Besides, even if I could get away, Cup had promised she would shoot several people in retaliation. Could I really condemn them to die like that? 

No. I couldn’t just escape. I had to stop them… somehow. Think. I just had to think. And ignore the fact that Cup was staring at me with what I could only imagine was open and contemptuous amusement behind that mask of hers. She knew. She knew I was trying to think of a way out of this, and she found it funny. Of course she did. She and Pencil were like psychotic little kids tormenting a bug they had found by the side of the road. She clearly wanted me to pay, not only for helping to stop them from doing too much damage to that children’s hospital before, but also because I had physically hurt her. She wanted me to suffer, which meant dragging this out. 

The sound of the Monster Mash song interrupted my thoughts. It was coming from Cup, who took a phone from her pocket and answered with, “What’s up, buttercup?” There was a brief pause as she listened for a moment before murmuring a few acknowledgments. Then she looked toward the front. “Shovel says a couple Touched showed up at the old bitch’s house. Looked like that Compasscunt from the Little League Of Charity Scouts or whatever the fuck they call themselves, and Blackjack’s newest girls, Soundwave and the one with the lizards.” 

That-A-Way, Pack, and… um… the sound girl. I hadn’t actually met or seen her in person yet, and I couldn’t remember her name just then. What were they doing? It was obvious that the ‘old bitch’s house’ was the one I’d been captured at. And clearly just as obvious what those guys were doing. They were looking for me. Pack had obviously found a way to contact That-A-Way, found out I’d lied, and they’d gone there themselves, only to be too late. 

“Well, obviously our friend in the back there kept up with his old buddies from the hospital. How sweet. Shovel have any trouble with them?” Pencil asked idly from the front, his attention clearly more on other things.

“Hold on.” Cup listened for a second before muttering a curse. Then she answered. “Nope, he took off when the annoying invincible cunt from Ten Towers showed up. Skipper or whatever.” 

“Skip,” Pencil corrected, sounding slightly more interested. “You’re saying there were people from three different groups, villains and heroes alike, all just… together at that house? The Minority girl and the one with the lizards are one thing, they worked together before. Maybe even this Broadway, assuming she’s partners or friends with the Lizard. But what was someone from Ten Towers doing there?” From his tone, I could tell that the next words were directed at me. “You been making even more friends there, buddy?” 

I didn’t respond, of course. What was I going to say to the asshole? Besides, I was still trying to figure out why Skip was there myself. I’d run into her earlier, of course. But so what? Why would she be at the house? It didn’t make sense. Maybe she was friends with That-A-Way? But even that was weird and didn’t seem right. I couldn’t figure it out, even if I had wanted to answer. 

“Playing the strong, silent type, huh?” There was a chuckle in Pencil’s voice. “Well, just keep in mind, they won’t find you. The toy we used to kill the signal in your phone and anything else you’ve got on you isn’t a half-measure. See, we’ve found over the years that people keep trying to make it harder and harder for a good kidnapper to make a living. You’ve got duplicate phones, tracking devices in the clothes, embedded in the shoes, under the skin… some people are just really fucking averse to being abducted for some reason, you know? Anyway, short of full-body exploratory surgery every goddamn time we want to hold someone for awhile, the best choice is our signal killer. Your phone and any other tracking device you might have on you just in case of… well, in case of something like this, are all permanently offline. But hey, I bet you could still play Candy Crush on that thing. That’s something, huh? Am I a nice guy or what? I mean, until I cut your thumbs off. Hey, what do you think would be worse, losing both thumbs or one eye?” 

Yeah, I wasn’t going to rise to that bait. I just stayed silent and looked at Cup. She looked back at me, shoulders shaking just a little with silent laughter. It was clear that she was endlessly amused by her brother’s antics. Which made precisely one of us. Or three, I supposed, given the two other guys who were apparently just fine and dandy working for fucking psychopaths. 

When I refused to respond, Pencil just continued. “No opinion? Eh, I guess I’ll take it as it comes. Honestly, I’m leaning toward the eye thing. All that jumping and running around you keep doing, how hard do you think it’d be with shitty depth perception? Honestly, that seriously might be worth letting you go afterward, just to see you hopping around slamming into things, falling off buildings, shit like that. Fucking great. But see, that gets to my whole deal with this. Killing you? That’s amateur hour. There’s no point. Some guy catches you off-guard with a fucking pistol can kill you. No. No, that’s too easy. That’s too… boring. What someone like you needs, what you deserve, is to be broken. And you mark my words, Mr. Paintball, when we’re through this little road trip, I’ll be able to turn my full and undivided attention to you. 

“And you will be broken when I’m done.” 

Once her brother was done talking, Cup stared at me intently for a few seconds. Whatever she was looking for she must have found, because she looked toward the front where I assumed Pencil was watching and gave him a slight nod. Without my helmet, she could probably see the genuine fear in my eyes through the simple ski mask. Try as I might, I couldn’t suppress it. I couldn’t entirely shove down the terror of what might happen, what would happen if I didn’t find a way out of this. I’d seen the news reports. I’d read the articles, heard… heard witnesses that the Scions had intentionally released to carry their stories to the public. Pencil was right, there was no one to help me. I was on my own. And if I didn’t escape, if I didn’t get out of this on my own, then I was going to suffer and probably die on my own. Or suffer so much I gave up my friends and family. Wren. If I told them about Wren, how they could find and twist her…

No. No, no, no. I had to get out of this. I had to get out of this. I wouldn’t let that happen. Please.

Okay, think. I had to think. Laying on my back there on the floor, I closed my eyes, hoping Cup would assume I was consumed with terror and leave me alone. I just had to think. 

It was late. I had no idea how long I’d been knocked out before, because I’d stupidly not paid attention to the time when I tried to call for help only to find no signal. So it could be ten at night, two in the morning, or anything else. All I knew was that it was dark through the windows of the SUV, save for the glimpses of passing headlights and streetlamps. And because I couldn’t check my phone, I had no idea if my parents were in the middle of a full-scale meltdown about me being missing, or if they hadn’t even noticed yet. Mark that as something to deal with if the time came. That was, if I got out of this alive. 

Which led to the whole escaping part. Yeah. Okay, so what did I have? I could use my powers, but that wouldn’t help much. Purple paint couldn’t make me strong enough to break cuffs that had been designed to hold much stronger Touched than me. Green paint could make me fast, but the second I got too far away from Cup, I’d just be yanked to the ground. Same for red pulling me away from them, or blue launching me. Whatever I did, a second later I’d be yanked down and my ‘escape’ would be over and done with. So… so what the fuck could I do? 

I knew where Lake Victoria was. It was about an hour and a half or so from Detroit. I had that long to think of a plan, a way to get out of this and not end up under Pencil’s undivided attention.

So stop panicking, stop being a sniveling little baby, and think. Focus. I could get out of this. I had to get out of this. Hour and a half, brain. You’ve got an hour and a half to think of a genius escape plan.  

Please don’t let me down. 

*****

When the SUV pulled to a stop along a gravel road, it was still dark outside. My eyes turned slightly to look at the window next to Cup’s head, as I listened to Pencil telling the two men in the middle seat to get out and look around. Once they did so, he addressed my babysitter. “Baby sis, you ready for a little hike?” 

“Can’t we just drive up there?” the girl retorted, her foot idly kicking against my stomach. “Look, the road keeps going up through that gate. How far do we have to walk?” 

“Couple miles, according to the map,” came the response. “And we can’t drive it. Knowing the old man, he’ll hear the car engine and see the lights. After all we’ve gone through to find this cocksucker, you really wanna give him a chance to escape? We’ll hoof it in through the forest.” 

From her reaction, I could tell that Cup wasn’t happy about that. But she didn’t argue. Instead, she just gave me a harder kick, practically stomping on my stomach before opening the door. Her hand grabbed my ankle and yanked, while I scrambled to push myself up awkwardly. I basically half-fell out of the vehicle, then completely fell as she gave me a kick in the back of the leg. 

We were in the middle of nowhere. To the left, I could see water in the far distance. Lake Victoria, I assumed. To the right was a forested area. The gravel road we were on stretched back into the darkness and continued up through a simple metal gate that stretched across it.

Cup was standing over me, while the two random thugs were spread out. One was examining the gate while the other ran some kind of scanner over the fence before calling back that it was electrified. Pencil was just getting out, adjusting the mask that I was pretty sure he’d had off the whole time we were driving. 

It was now or never. These guys wouldn’t be this distracted again. In a second, they’d remember to pay more attention to me. It was time to enact my genius plan. 

So, I kicked Cup in the leg. More to the point, I activated the purple paint I’d prepared earlier on the inside of my costume leg, powered it, and lashed out with as hard of a kick as I could manage. At the same time, I turned a bit so that the hands behind my back were pointed at her, and shot a bit of silencing black at her chest, to muffle her scream as she started to fall. And to stop the bitch from using her power, of course.  

As Cup fell, I continued my roll so that my cuffed hands were pointed back toward the truck and the gate that one of the men was still inspecting. A shot of red at each sent the SUV flying that way, narrowly missing Pencil, who dropped into a roll to avoid it.

Meanwhile, that one bit of purple was far from the only paint I’d prepared for this. I had a whole fucking art gallery going on inside my costume, and in that moment, I used green to speed myself up and orange for the defense. I was on my feet, standing over the fallen Cup with my back to her as she held her leg and screamed silently. 

Pencil was coming back to his feet, already out of his roll with his pistol raised. He fired twice, both shots hitting my chest. They stung, but otherwise I was fine. Fine enough to pivot, lashing out with my still-enhanced strength to kick Cup right in the face while she was still on the ground. My foot hit her hard enough to knock the bitch onto her back. 

I kept pivoting. Pencil had fired three more times while running toward me. One shot missed, the other two hit me. Again, they stung without actually damaging me too much. But it was definitely starting to hurt. Time to go!

Standing over the prone Cup while facing the incoming Pencil, I shot red down at her, matching it with my gloved hand. She was jerked upward, and I caught her arm. 

Pencil knew. He bellowed a threat, a warning, a promise, all three. I ignored him. Using my free hand, I shot blue paint at the ground between us and lunged at it while hauling the dazed and barely conscious Cup along for the ride. My feet hit the paint as I activated it, launching me and Cup high into the air, my momentum carrying us forward. 

We flew over the fence, joined together by the red paint as we came crashing down in the middle of a group of trees some distance beyond. It wasn’t a pretty landing. We fell together, rolling along the ground in a tangled jumble. I took one of Cup’s elbows to the face and I was pretty sure she wasn’t even trying. 

In the end, when the dust settled, the two of us were lying in the dirt next to a bush. I could hear Pencil screaming after me, promising everything he was going to do if I didn’t let his sister go. 

So there I was, barely out of Pencil’s sight, in the middle of nowhere. My hands were still cuffed behind my back, and the only way I could keep moving was by dragging Cup along with me. Because that was the secret. I couldn’t run away from Cup without being yanked to the ground, but as long as she was with me when I escaped, willingly or not, the cuffs wouldn’t activate. And thanks to the black paint, she couldn’t use the command word to activate them manually. 

Now all I had to do was stay away from a totally enraged Pencil and his goons, find my way through this completely dark forest in the middle of nowhere, and stop the bad guys from killing Robert Parsons, all while dragging Queen Psycho along with my hands literally tied behind my back. 

Genius plan indeed. 

Previous Chapter                             Next Chapter