Destiny: A Fantasy Collection

by Rachelle Mills

  Lydia rubbed her hand across her face. “The cops asked the same thing. Three times. I’m not the best at my job, but I know when somebody’s dead.”

  “I know, I know.” Nick bumped his elbow into her arm. It was his way of apologizing, in his I-don’t-ever-actually-say-sorry kind of way. Lydia had grown up with one vaguely douchebag-y older brother, and now she joked that she had wound up with the second one in Nick.

  All her other friends wondered why she and Nick weren’t a thing. By his own words, he wasn’t interested, and neither was she. They were family to each other, close friends and nothing more. They understood each other and their weird quirks.

  The two of them made it to their favorite spot to drink and sat in the restaurant section. Usually, they just hunkered down at a corner of the bar. But this time, they ordered some food along with drinks. Lydia got her favorite, a whiskey old fashioned, deciding she needed a treat since she had been chased by a homicidal monster that day and all. God, it sounded stupid even saying it to herself in her head.

  It made the tattoo on her arm seem a lot less weird by comparison. It was incredible how context was king.

  “Are you okay?” Nick asked in the pause after their waiter walked away.

  “I don’t know,” she admitted woefully. She ran her hand through her blonde hair and let out a small breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. It felt like every little sound, every tiny plink of glassware or silverware, was going to send her jumping out of the window in a panic. She didn’t think of herself as a jumpy person, but here she was, proving that theory false.

  They were both quiet, and she picked at the part of her sleeve over the tattoo, unable to help but dwell on it. Lydia didn’t even notice that Nick was shifting uncomfortably in his seat. It wasn’t until he cleared his throat that she realized he’d been trying, nervously, to get her attention.

  “What’s up?” she asked.

  “Look, I didn’t want to bring this up earlier. You’ve had some weird shit happen you today, and you don’t need to deal with my weird shit,” Nick rambled.

  “It’s fine. I don’t think my day could get any worse. Go for it.”

  Nick began to unzip his hoodie and pull it away from his neck. “I just…I gotta tell somebody. I’ve been Googling it all day.”

  “Look, your rash is between you and your doctor,” she quipped.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He dismissed her joke with a snicker, enjoying her crude humor. “But what in the actual fuck is this, though?” He pulled the edge of his t-shirt away from his neck.

  There, just below the collarbone on one side, was a mark. About the size of a quarter. It looked like some messed-up alchemical symbol. A four with two dash lines through it. Black ink. Like a perfect, single-line tattoo. It would take an artist maybe five minutes to etch it onto his skin. But impossible for someone to get magically without them realizing or remembering it.

  Lydia felt her face go pale. Felt all the color drain out of her face like someone had pulled the tap for the second time that day.

  “I know you think I’m nuts,” Nick exclaimed. “I know you’re going to say I just got trashed and don’t remember getting it. But I…” He was stammering. She’d never seen him like this. “I swear I didn’t get a tattoo, and not last night. Last night I just smoked a joint and went to bed and I didn’t—I don’t know what the hell is going on, Lyd!” Nick’s voice turned higher and strained as his eyes went wide. Nick didn’t deal with panic the same way she did.

  Silently, as actions spoke louder than the words she didn’t know how to form, Lydia rolled up her sleeve to her elbow and put her arm down on the table, palm up, showing him that she too had a mark. When he saw it, he grabbed her arm and ran his thumb over her tattoo, as if he was trying to wipe it off. As if confirming it matched his. Maybe not in shape, but certainly in style.

  She didn’t know what to say, except, “I believe you.”

  Now, how to tell him about the third set of marks she had seen today?

  ***

  Edu gripped the hilt of the sword as he looked down over this human city. It had been several years since the last Ceremony of the Fall and over a hundred years since he had returned to this plane.

  It had always been his opinion that human society grew too slowly. Although now, perhaps he must amend his previous beliefs.

  The human world had changed so dramatically in such a seemingly short period of time. Buildings were taller, made of glass and steel and not mounds of brick. Such construction still remained, lingering in the architecture of a previous time, mixing with the buildings of all the generations that stretched back into its lineage.

  This was a young city, as this world went, merely a few hundred years old. It had not yet resorted so fully to ransacking its own footprint to rebuild as many others had turned to in their time. In his home, they could build on and on, spread outward into the void, and expand to their heart’s content.

  Or at least…it had once been possible.

  Those days were dead and gone. Lying in the lake with all the rest.

  But Edu had not come to this fledgling city to reminisce and philosophize upon human nature and his own shrinking world. He had come, for it was time for the Fall, and he would not miss it for all the glory of Under. There were few things he relished so keenly as the hunt.

  For when the Ceremony of the Fall began…there was prey to be gathered.

  Chapter Three

  Even if it made her feel vaguely like she was going to throw up, Lydia was happy for the food in her stomach. And the alcohol. Mostly, it was probably the alcohol that was making her a little queasy. But hell if it wasn’t worth it. The slight hum she got from the booze made the whole day so much more tolerable.

  Lydia had told Nick about the marks on the corpse’s face, the walking cadaver with the sharp, far-too-long canines. Nick had, of course, said the thing that she was refusing to even speak silently in her mind.

  “Wait. The guy was a vampire?”

  “No. No, that shit isn’t real,” Lydia insisted. “Vampires aren’t real.”

  “But he was a corpse. He was dead. And then he wasn’t. And he had fangs,” Nick argued. “We both have tattoos we don’t remember getting. Ones that matched the ones you say this guy had on his face. I’m willing to go on a little suspension of disbelief here.”

  “I’m not.” Lydia put her head in her hands. “If he did have the same style marks on his face, what the hell does that mean? What’re we now, under attack by some weird supernatural cult?”

  “I don’t know,” Nick said with a sigh. “But it’s gotta be connected. It’s gotta be. It’s too impossible for it to be a coincidence.”

  Nick was right. The idea that somehow the two events were not connected was even dumber. Somehow the mark on her arm and the one on Nick’s neck were related to the undead it-was-totally-not-a-vampire vampire she wound up with on her slab.

  After dinner and drinks, and not wanting to Uber back after the last T stopped running, they paid up and went to the closest stop to head home. Nick, even if he didn’t admit it, was starting to look more and more worried as the night went on. He had asked to crash on her sofa, and she was more than happy to say yes. It was that or sleep with the lights on. Hell, she might sleep with the lights on anyway.

  It was about halfway there that Nick abruptly stopped walking. “Nick?” she asked, turning to face him. But he didn’t move. He was looking over her shoulder at something, and his eyes were wide. His face was somehow paler than it had been a minute before. “Nick?” she asked again, but no dice. He was frozen.

  Some significant part of her desperately didn’t want to turn to see what had locked Nick as solid as a statue. Once Lydia did, her regret was realized. She shouldn’t have looked. She should have just run.

  A man was standing in the middle of the road.

  Well, she assumed it was a man.

  It also might have been a bus, if his size was any indication.

  Who
ever it was, he was in full armor. Full, honest-to-god plate armor. Like something out of a movie, it covered every inch of his body from head to toe. Unlike museum pieces, the sections and plates looked like they had been made out of hunks of weird stone or maybe black lava rock, not steel or metal. The plates connected in a nonsensical way that mimicked how plates on an insect’s exoskeleton might join together.

  The armor was pointed, vicious, and was clearly designed to intimidate, not just to protect whoever wore it. And it looked incredibly successful on both counts.

  The man was huge. He wore a full-face helmet that obscured his features entirely. The helm stretched up over his head and tapered off into two great horns that looked like they belonged to a dragon, twisted and cruel. The horns and the thickness of his armor obscured his actual height, but from the pavement to the top, he might have been eight feet total.

  Even without the armor, he was broad and had to be more than a little muscular with how much that armor must weigh. The man was carrying a sword that looked like it might be four feet in length with one hand. The gauntlet that grasped it was clawed and pointed like everything else about him.

  Etched into every surface of his armor seemed to be writing. It was identical to the kind of writing they had on them now as tattoos.

  “Master Edu bids you good evening. He wishes you well. We mean you no harm, and we ask you to come with us.”

  He wasn’t alone.

  Standing behind him and to the side was a woman. Lydia hadn’t noticed her at first, as she was too busy gaping at the giant man in the plate mail. The woman who had spoken had long black hair that reached to her waist. She wore a crimson dress that draped around her like layers of silk. It was split down the front to her navel and wouldn’t have been accepted anywhere as real clothing. But it didn’t seem to bother her at all. The dress wasn’t the weirdest thing about her.

  Over the top half of her face was a solid crimson mask. There were no holes for the eyes, and it obscured everything from her nose up. Across one section of it was a jagged-edged spiral, etched into the surface and inked gold that glinted in the streetlights.

  She was the one who had spoken, and her full red lips were curved in a gentle smile as she stood there, hands folded peacefully in front of her. She was a stark contrast to the armored monolith she was standing next to. Her expression—what Lydia could see of it anyway—wasn’t mean. Just passive and almost piteous.

  The few people who had been on the street were quick to turn around and go the other way. The two bizarre figures seemed not to care about anybody else. They were talking only to her and Nick.

  “Nick…” Lydia said quietly and backed into her friend, who had been locked solid and unmoving at what they saw.

  The impact seemed to shake him out of it, and he grabbed her hand.

  “We need to go,” she said, barely above a whisper.

  “Master Edu insists that running is not advisable,” the woman said, her red lips twisting up in a slightly broader smile. Even with what she was saying, her tone was gentle. “Although it is enjoyable.”

  That was the last straw.

  Nick and Lydia turned, and for the second time in one day, Lydia ran for her life. Nick had to let go of her hand so they didn’t drag each other down over themselves. They tore down the street as fast as they could. Lydia wasn’t a trained runner. She went to the gym twice a week to not be a lump, sure, but she mostly did weight machines. Lydia hated running. Now, she scolded herself for not having stuck to it. It certainly would come in handy right now. It felt like her lungs were going to explode out of her chest, and she might pass out. Blame it on the fear. Yeah. That was why. That was clearly why.

  How far they went, she couldn’t say, before Nick took a sharp right down an alley. Lydia missed the turn and skidded to a halt. She quickly turned back up the way they had come to catch up with her friend.

  No. Not possible.

  How could something that big move that fast?

  There he was—the man in the armor—barely twenty feet away. He was standing stock still, watching her with his head tilted slightly to the side as if curious. But he did not look the worse for the chase at all. Meanwhile, she was a sweaty, out-of-breath mess.

  The man in the armor was looking at her with the empty, black, and jagged eye sockets of its helm fixed straight on her. Its mask was sculpted to look like a dragon—or a skull. Or both, maybe. Nothing was visible underneath, like there might not be anyone inside.

  If it was supposed to be terrifying, it worked. Lydia screamed and turned to run again. She made it about three steps before something massive snatched her arm. The sudden stopping of her momentum would have knocked her to the ground if whatever grabbed her hadn’t picked her up off her feet and set her back down like she was a child’s toy.

  It was like being stuck in a vise, but she thrashed and struggled anyway. The armored man had crossed twenty feet of distance inhumanly fast. Worse, it moved almost silently for something wearing what amounted to a tank. A heavy gauntlet had wrapped around her upper arm and was keeping her from escaping.

  “Let me go!” Lydia screamed.

  It just looked down at Lydia, silent and foreboding. It tilted its head the other direction, like a German shepherd, trying to figure her out. No amount of thrashing on her part was even budging the man. She kicked at his leg with her boot, but she felt like she was kicking a rock. He didn’t move. All she got in response was a stab of pain that shot up her leg.

  The creature lifted its other hand, to do what, she didn’t know, but stopped as someone shouted from behind him.

  “Hey, asshole!”

  The monolithic creature turned its head back up the street. There stood Nick, the source of the interruption. He had his gun raised. “Let her go.”

  The creature didn’t. In fact, the man didn’t move. Just looked at Nick, still as a statue.

  “Second chance,” Nick warned.

  The creature turned toward Nick, dragging Lydia with him. It reached its free hand out in front of him and down, palm tilted forward, as if to grasp something. A strange red light crackled between the fingers of his gauntleted hand. It almost looked like electricity, arcing between the creature’s claws. Lydia couldn’t help but whimper in fear as the power grew, and the sword she had seen him carrying earlier appeared in the monster’s hand. One second, his hand was empty, and the next, the wicked and vicious blade was in his grasp.

  To anyone else, it would have been a two-handed weapon. For this creature, he held it with one like it was nothing. And he had summoned it from thin air. The monster tightened its grasp around the hilt of the sword and held it pointed toward Nick. The answer to his challenge.

  If Nick wanted to fight, this guy was game.

  “Oh, fuck,” Nick moaned in fear, but it didn’t stop him from taking aim and firing. Lydia would have been afraid Nick might hit her except for the fact that he really was an excellent shot. The monster in armor was also the size of a small truck so would be hard to miss. That, and Lydia was about at or exceeding her shit-to-be-afraid-of quota for the day.

  Nick fired off several shots. The monster stood there unflinching as each one seemed to bounce off harmlessly. As if nothing had happened.

  Lydia ducked reflexively as she heard the bullets ricochet off the armor and bounce into nearby buildings. The window of a nearby parked car shattered. It hadn’t been Nick who had missed; this thing was literally bulletproof.

  “Run, Nick!” she screamed. “Just go!” Maybe he had time to escape.

  The armored monster let out a low growl, the first sound she had heard from him. It hadn’t been keen on Nick opening fire, apparently. Suddenly, she was on the ground. It had tossed her to the floor like a ragdoll. She let out an umph as she impacted the pavement.

  The armored man was now walking toward Nick. If her friend hadn’t managed to hurt the man, at least he managed to annoy it. Nick quickly realized the predicament he was now in, and he took a step back. “Uh, he
y, let’s talk this through, okay? Who are you? What do you want?”

  The creature did not answer and instead kept walking toward Nick. Stalking him. The armored man was in no hurry, as if the monolith was so sure of his success. And so far, Nick and Lydia posed him no threat. Not even a gun did any damage or even seemed to slow him down.

  In a sudden blur of motion, the creature dashed forward faster than should have been possible. Faster than Lydia could track. He swiped a claw at Nick and slapped the gun out of his hand, sending it skittering down the sidewalk.

  Nick screamed and staggered backward. “Run, Lyd!” he yelled over his shoulder as he took off down the alleyway he had disappeared down the first time.

  It was that or give up. There weren’t any other options. Lydia scrambled to her feet and ran for the gun and grabbed it. Maybe if they split up, they could confuse it and get away. At least one of them would escape, right? Lydia took off running in the other direction.

  She made it about two blocks before she had to stop and catch her breath. Lydia leaned against the wall of the alleyway she had ducked down and bent over to rest her arms on her knees. She tried to keep her dinner down and take air in. Shit, Lydia needed air. Holy hell…what should she do? Call the cops? Even if they didn’t believe her, it couldn’t hurt. Either the monster would vanish, and she’d be safe—or they’d take one look at it and call the SWAT team. Or the Army.

  A shadow fell over Lydia. Something tall enough to blot out the streetlamp about thirty feet away. Lydia knew with dread that it wasn’t going to be Nick and looked up to answer the question of which one of them the armored man had chased.

  Her. It had chased her.

  It walked up to her, still taking its time. When she turned to run, it dashed at her and was suddenly standing right in front of her. It was almost like it could teleport, it moved so fast. She added that to the list of crazy impossible shit she’d seen today. One massive gauntlet closed around her arm again and squeezed, just hard enough to hurt.