Blythe hated horror movies. The characters always seemed so stupid. She could never understand how or why a person would just stand there and watch an otherwise normal date vamp or wolf-out, right in front of their eyes. If it were her, she figured she would have bailed at the first indication that the person was changing. Like when hair started to grow on their skin or fangs began to protrude.
When those scenes graced the big screen, she would laugh and throw popcorn, deriding the vast absurdity of inaction. Now, however, she chided her naïveté. It had never occurred to her that a person could be so scared that they couldn’t move even if they wanted too. This was the unfortunate predicament she found herself in now. Her brain was screaming at her to get out of there, but somehow her thoughts weren’t connecting with her legs. Just like the dummies in the movies, she stood there, gawking, with her feet super-glued to the pavement.
Blythe cupped her mouth. Or, maybe she’d been cupping it the whole time. “What on Earth…?”
“Try again sweetheart,” answered a gravelly voice. With that, he stepped forward and dealt a fierce blow to her chest, knocking her clear across the alley and into the side of one of the heavy metal garage doors. Her body folded like a rag doll and rolled next to one of several dumpsters. Grit pricked her cheeks and a rancid odor filled her nostrils as she inhaled, clutching her chest, struggling to breathe.
“Get up!” The thing shouted.
Slowly she turned her head, clutching the back of it. It ached, as did her back. It was definitive. There was no getting up. Not anytime soon.
Right about now was a good time to orb out. She concentrated and felt that warm sensation typical of orbing, but when the feeling passed, nothing happened. Wait—what? Breathless and flushed, she tried again, harder. This time, her hands glowed and flickered like dying light bulbs, but there was nothing more. She was still face down, on the cold ground with the threat of death lingering a few feet away. Her breath returned in quick ragged gasps. There must be something. Anything. Her eyes searched as he drew closer. A break. The end of what looked like a rusted metal chain poked from underneath trash. Blythe slowly peeled herself off the pavement and crawled through trash and dirt over to the chain, snatching it.
Get up, Blythe. “That part I said about not wanting to hurt you,” she said, managing to find her voice as she scrambled to her feet. “I take that back.”
“And just, what do you think you’re going to do with that?” he asked, his raw muscles twitching and glinting under the moonlight.
“I’ll tell you what.” She was feeling better already. “You stand there, and I’ll show you.” She proceeded to walk towards him, slashing her chain back and forth in the air like a whip. But something was wrong. It felt clumsy in her hands. She was bereft of the agility she was used to. The look on her face must’ve broadcast her thoughts, loud and clear.
“Did you really think I’d come for you without a game plan? Rule number one.” The monster preached. “Never take drinks from strangers. That little elixir I gave you, it’s slow acting, but it’s powerful against all that Atori stuff your mother passed down to you. If you weren’t so greedy, you might have had a little strength left. In fact, I was hoping you would. It would’ve given us a chance to play a little harder. Since you’re all out of gas, let’s quit the foreplay. Time to go.”
Desperate, Blythe tried orbing again, but could only produce a slight flicker. A cold chill ran up her spine. She shuffled backward as the monster approached, trying to reason with him. “Look, I don’t know what you were told. But you’ve got the wrong person. I don’t know any Atoris or whatever you’re talking about.” Her words didn’t seem to make an impact. The meat-sack was headed straight in her direction. “C’mon, whatever you’re planning to do, you don’t have to. If you leave, I won’t tell anybody about this. I swear.”
The monster was now within arm's reach. Oddly, he was very composed. It was as if he were enjoying the time it took to break her down. He reached for her and she slung the chain at him, striking his side and his back as the end of the chain wrapped around him. It made no difference. He snatched the chain as it uncoiled and threw it to the ground. Blythe used the diversion to land a hard right across his chin, thrusting his face sideways. He paused, slowly turning back to meet Blythe’s eyes, the corners of his mouth curving up diabolically before he snatched her wig and backhanded her in the face. The blow sent waves of pain down her jaw as the organic brininess of warm blood diffused through her mouth. She spat it out. “I don’t know who you are or what you are.” Blythe rasped, wiping the blood from her throbbing lip with the back of her hand. “But, I’m not going anywhere with you. I’m warning you. You’d better leave me be. I feel…I don’t feel right.” She wasn’t lying. Her skin was on fire, only it didn’t hurt. If anything, it itched.
“You don’t feel right?” he mocked. “What you feel—that’s called pain and you’re going to feel a whole lot more of it if you don’t listen very carefully.” What was left of his face hardened and his jaw tensed. “I’m doing you a favor right now. I’m giving you a small dose of reality. You’re going to come with me tonight, willingly, and you’re going to take me to your mother, or things are going to get a whole lot worse. And if they do, guess what?” He cocked his head to the side. “You’re still coming with me and taking me to her. So, as you can see, this train is only headed in one direction. You either come intact, or in pieces—your choice.” Blythe winced as he grabbed her by the shoulders and lifted her in the air until she was close enough to see the abyss that was his eyes and the broken capillaries where she socked his jaw. His narrow eyes studied her, awaiting a response. When she didn’t offer one, he scowled and threw her. This time she flew back, hitting a dumpster. Moaning, she slid to the ground, keenly aware that her body had taken a pounding and couldn’t withstand much more. Every muscle in her body ached. Still, she inched backward, her elbows scraping the ground as she tried to position herself between a trashcan and a garage door as if they could separate her from the ensuing evil. Wishful thinking, of course. Truth be told, she was in quite the dilemma. Normally, she wouldn’t dream of asking for help from anyone, but her life was on the line—all bets were off. Galvanizing the rest of her strength, she looked inward—it was time to make a call.
Fervor
Stepping out in search of who-knows-what was a brazen move on Sefira’s part. She’d rather face off with the Boogieman himself than have her mom find out that her sixteen-year-old daughter was stomping down the streets of Los Angeles at night alone. This was truly a dumb idea and she knew it, but she also felt she’d come too far to turn a blind eye toward the truth. At least, that’s what she kept telling herself.
As she veered further and further from the university, however, she began to second-guess her decision. The old-world charm that characterized the school—wrought iron lampposts, lush greenery and vibrant flora—were long-gone in a matter of minutes. The nakedness of LA’s sincerest dichotomy was revealed outside the confines of manicured lawns and trimmed hedges. Homeless men, women and children roamed the streets. Many were huddled in makeshift shelters consisting of old clothes, blankets and trash in an attempt to stay warm. Others scuttled along on foot, pushing rusted rickety shopping carts filled with their belongings. The air was laden with the scent of old booze and strong urine. As she passed, she turned a head or two, but most didn’t bother to even look in her direction.
Sefira was definitely out of her element and contemplated turning back, when she felt a searing jolt to her brain that stopped her dead in her tracks. A cacophony of voices overwhelmed her that were too amalgamated to decipher. She clutched her head, trying to physically steady and slow the stream of communication. Gradually, a weak but very present voice was heard calling out to her. “Please, if you’re there…I need your help…please…I’m over here….” Suddenly a scene emerged inside Sefira’s head. It played like a slideshow, revealing Rakor Hall and what Sefira believed was the path taken by the mysterious
voice. It was her. The girl she’d been looking for—it had to be. The last images revealed what appeared to be a vacant parking lot and an adjoining alleyway—and then the images faded.
Sefira’s sense of urgency was unmatched by anything she had ever felt. As she looked to her left, she recognized the parking lot from her vision and with renewed fervor, ran without hesitation in its direction.
Little Red
Blythe huddled close to the trashcan. A trail of blood was left in her wake. It trickled down her forehead, from her mouth, and oozed from her knees. Getting up was an exercise in futility, because he would only knock her down—or worse. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to understand that he wanted her to submit, and at this rate, she figured she might just have to. “If I go with you, what’s in it for me?” she asked wearily.
“You get to live.” He picked up the pink wig from the ground, lifted a dumpster lid and dropped it in. With an elbow propped on the dumpster’s rim, he added, “And, maybe, save your daddy.”
A pang struck her chest. “You’ve got Fredo?” she asked, wide-eyed.
“Fredo? Who’s that?” He shook his head. “Did your mother not teach you anything?”
Blythe just stared. What is he talking about?
“Your father’s on the executioner’s list. He’ll be gutted unless you come with me. By the time Nivea is done with him there will be nothing left but entrails scattered all over the dungeon floor.”
Blythe fumed. Fredo was the only father she knew. She’d die for him. But he wasn’t talking about Fredo. He was talking about someone else. A man she’d known must have existed, but hadn’t in her lifetime. A ghost. This message hit home in a different sort of way. Where did this thing get off baiting me with the idea of saving or even knowing my real father?
It was true. There were times when she wondered about him. She wondered if there were somebody out there looking for her. Somebody that knew about the coffee-stain birthmark on the back of her right shoulder or about the single grey strand of straight hair that stood tall within her mop of curly ones. Or more importantly, someone who could explain to her why she could orb, or why she was adept at using common objects as weapons. Such questions had been pushed way back, in the recesses of her mind, because she never dreamed of getting answers. Now, here was this guy—this thing— resurrecting them, dangling possible answers just out of her grasp. “You’re full of it,” she eked out. “I’m not going anywhere you prick.”
He chuckled. “Earlier, I gave you a choice. Now, I’m afraid you’re all out of options.”
As she lay bloodied and slumped over, she silently prayed that if she had to die, it would be quick. He reached for her but was interrupted by a voice screaming from several yards away.
“Get away from her!” A small figure turned the corner, charging in their direction and waving violently, as if to shoo the monster away.
Blythe sat up and turned in the voice’s direction, a spark of hope ignited. Oh my gosh, she heard me…what the heck is she doing? Blythe had her fingers crossed that the mysterious girl from the party would be able to do something. When she saw the girl’s arms flailing in the air her heart sank. I’m about to get her killed….
“Listen,” Blythe interrupted Sefira’s thoughts. “I…I made a huge mistake. I shouldn’t have called you here. Get out of here now. You’re not ready for this.”
“Hm. What do we have here?” The creature craned his neck, squinting. “I think someone’s come to rescue you.” The creature mocked, glancing at Blythe. “But who could it be?” His eyes narrowed again, studying the approaching figure. “Oh, wait, it looks like…like…Little Red Riding Hood. That is what your people call her, yes? How befitting. I wasn’t expecting a meal today, but she looks like she’ll do.”
My Bad
Sefira’s heart beat furiously as she ran in the girl’s direction. She heard the girl’s warning, but she was so consumed by her search for answers that she ignored it. Was the situation dangerous? Yes. Did she care? Not enough to run in the other direction. There were too many weird things happening to her that she could no longer ignore. So driven was she, that she hadn’t even stopped to consider what on earth she could actually do to help this girl until she was several yards away. Fractured thoughts bombarded her.
Oh my gosh, I don’t even have a weapon. Dear God, what if he has a weapon? Can’t call the police, there’s no time. Scream. Yeah, if I scream maybe it’ll scare him off.
“I said, get away from her!” she said, ripping her throat raw as she screamed at the top of her lungs. “I’ve called the police!” Phone in hand, she waved violently, hoping her mere presence would be enough to scare the guy off. But he wasn’t moving. Instead, he just stood there, arms folded. Worse, the flamboyant pink-haired girl looked like she’d been reduced to a lump on the ground. Sefira swallowed hard. What did he do to her? Was it too late? And why wasn’t the guy running away?
As she ventured closer, she noticed that something about the guy’s stature seemed off. Although her recollection of the guy at the party wasn’t great, she recalled him being tall and lanky with a head full of hair. This guy, however, was oddly shaped. He still wore some type of uniform, but his arms looked unusually long—for anyone. Maybe this was someone else? And then he did something she was totally unprepared for. Arms dangling, he walked swiftly in her direction.
Sefira slowed to a jog, then stopped running entirely. What—what is that? Squinting, she tried in vain to convince herself that her eyes betrayed her, for she was now close enough to discover that this was no ordinary man. As the guy stepped into a sliver of light from a nearby building, she discerned that this thing was bald, and skinned—like a fish. Some sort of—monster?
Her phone slipped from her fingers, crashing to the ground as she stood, frozen with fear.
Again, her thoughts were intruded upon. Hey, wake up. It was the girl again, yelling within her mind. It felt good to hear her voice. At least she was alive. “It’s too late to run now ‘cuz he’ll hunt you down.” Sefira gulped, the voice continued, “Now, listen to me very carefully, because you’re gonna have to trust me. I know it sounds crazy, but close your eyes. Take a breath, slow it all down…let yourself fall into that space where nothing can touch you. When you get there, focus…just like you did at the party. There’s an energy there. You can control it. Pull it towards your center, pull it in, and when I tell you, let it go.”
The girl was right, this was crazy, and it took everything in her not to turn tail and run. Silently, she prayed that she would not regret her decision not to. She’d spent the better part of her life running—from bullies, from her past, from her mother, from the truth? The time for running had passed. Today, she would stand her ground. In spite of everything she’d ever been told, everything she’d been taught, she decided to follow the advice of a complete stranger.
“Take a breath, slow it all down…let yourself fall into that space where nothing can touch you.”
Eyes shut, Sefira concentrated, taking deep breaths to calm her nerves, then pushing past that point, sinking to a place she couldn’t fathom finding—a place of peace. When she finally arrived, she felt something. Yes, a spark churning in the pit of her stomach.
“When you get there, focus…just like you did at the party. There’s an energy there. You can control it.”
Focus, she did—lending it her strength to make it grow. Standing there, she felt what she could only describe as an avalanche of power—freezing cold; surging like a violent blizzard beneath her skin, causing all her hairs to stand on end. As she focused on harnessing the power, the blizzard evolved into a sort of towering inferno within her soul. The surge of energy was unlike anything she’d ever felt or could imagine and left her hands trembling.
“Open your eyes—let it go!” The girl screamed from the pavement.
By the time Sefira’s eyes popped open her hands felt like she was holding back two freight trains from powering forward. Thrusting them in front of her
felt natural and was all she could do to relieve some of the pressure. Fortunately, for her it was exactly what she needed to do. Energy released from her body and something akin to a prism engulfed her. Its spheric shape was outlined by multi-faceted dazzling lines, perfectly symmetrical, that sparked, hissed and crackled in ever-changing hues. The monster tried charging through it but when it touched the prism’s invisible walls it threw its head back, writhing and screaming like a caged animal as the stink of burnt flesh filled the night air. With a pop, the prism dissolved just as quickly as it appeared and the creature took advantage, charging in her direction. By this time, however, Sefira felt energized. She directed some of that energy toward the creature and it was thrown several feet backward, landing in the coils of the barbed wire fence. Fresh blood glistened under the moonlight as the creature howled, ripping its flesh from the wire’s teeth. No way. How the heck did I do that?
“Do it again!”
Sefira whipped her head to the side to see a silhouette of the girl slowly approaching. As she stepped into a small pool of floodlight, Sefira could see that her pink hair was gone, replaced by long dark locks disheveled atop her head. Her catsuit didn’t fare any better, it looked as if it had endured a fight of its own. What was left of the black bodysuit was torn in several places, most of which she was bleeding. It was all bad, but worse still was the limp. They needed to make haste and judging from the way the girl dragged her left leg, she definitely wasn’t going to be able to do that. That meant she would have to rely on Sefira and Sefira wasn’t sure she would have the strength or the ability to protect them both. The girl’s large eyes narrowed as she pointed a finger toward the fence. “Hurry up it’s coming!”
For Blood & Glory Page 17
