Dark Sun Rising

by K M Martinez

  ****

  After seeing her grandmother off—and being told, once again, what time to pick her and Tío Jorge up in the morning—Mel pulled out her phone. It was a quarter until ten, and the last reminder for the Agora was in her email inbox.

  To: DescendantsNorthAmerica; DescendantsCentralSouthAmerica; DescendantsEurope; DescendantsMiddleEast; DescendantsFarEast; DescendantsAfrica; DescendantsIslands

  From: Agora Planning Committee

  Subject: Agora 2019

  Time: 7:46 PM

  Greetings, Descendants!

  This email is sent as a reminder that tomorrow, July 20, is the start of the Agora!

  When you arrive at the venue (address below) please make sure to park on the field to the left of the property. At the rear of the property is where descendants will sign in and receive their clan package. Boarding, food/beverage, and games information will be available at the sign-in area. If you are sponsoring a guest, all Non-Disclosure Agreements must be submitted in the sign-in area before non-descendant parties can be admitted…

  Mel skimmed the rest of the email, wondering how many first-timers there would be at this year’s Agora, and which of the seven clans had grown the most. Hopefully not Clan Moors.

  She pocketed her phone and walked back into the restaurant. Gabe was already chatting up a woman who appeared to be taken in by his smile and charm. The woman’s date… not so much.

  Mel grabbed her brother by his arm and hauled him away. “Can’t you see she’s with someone?”

  “I can see you’re a cock blocker,” Gabe said.

  “Whatever! Last thing we need is another incident like last week.”

  She referred, of course, to what happened at the bar she and her siblings visited the previous week. They hadn’t been there five minutes when Gabe disappeared, only to be found thirty minutes later rolling on the floor with a giant of a man who had taken exception to Gabe talking to his girlfriend. Gabe was constantly getting into fights. He had done so during their childhood, and even now at twenty-four little had changed. The incident ended with Mel and her brothers narrowly escaping a night in jail by running full-tilt through the streets of downtown, chased by cops. It was hardly their finest moment.

  Gabe rolled his eyes, but let Mel lead him toward Victor. “You’re just mad cause I have more game than you.”

  Victor had taken a seat at a smaller table, and had already ordered drinks for the three of them. Mel’s was a margarita, and she knew it was meant as a peace offering of sorts. She accepted it with a smile.

  “I don’t care about how much game you have,” Mel said to Gabe.

  “Aw, come on. You’re not still mad about that girl, are you?” asked Gabe. “It was last month!”

  “Shut up, Gabe.”

  “She was fake gay. I saved you from heartache!”

  Victor laughed. “Brotha, weren’t you on a date at the time?”

  “Yes! I sacrificed my own date to save my sister.”

  Mel laughed and shook her head. “Oh yeah, you’re the best brother ever.” She raised her hand to get the waitress’s attention. It had been ages since they’d eaten, and she needed more food.

  Ten minutes later, they were still on their first drink and waiting patiently for their tacos. Mel was trying to appeal to Victor’s practical side and get him to leave after the second drink. The last thing any of them needed was to head into the Agora inebriated or hung over. Gabe, on the other hand, hounded them to drink more quickly. He could drink like a fish. He stared pointedly at Mel’s half-empty margarita.

  In response, she picked up her glass with exaggerated slowness, sipped her drink, then put it down just as slowly. Gabe scoffed, grabbed her glass, and took a sip himself. Mel was sure her margarita beat his beer, but Gabe liked to pretend he was a beer man.

  Mel finally asked Victor about his wife and kids, but he ignored the question, chugged his beer, then got up to get another.

  “Probably had another fight about teaching Sophia and Victor Junior The Ways,” said Mel quietly.

  “It’s bullshit,” said Gabe. “Liz is being a bi—”

  “Watch it, Gabe. She’s his wife. We have to respect that.”

  “She used to be so cool with it. But now…”

  “Now it’s different,” Mel agreed. “Now it would be her son and daughter being taught to fight and kill. Having your kids beaten, cut up, stabbed… it ain’t the same as watching the man you love, a Journeyman, compete.”

  Journeymen had years of training under their belt. They were polished stones, smoothed out over time. They were good at what they did, though it took a lot of wear and tear to get to that point. Mel wouldn’t wish the way she was brought up on anybody, especially her niece and nephew.

  She also knew Gabe didn’t agree. She expected him to argue, but instead he said, “If you had to do it all over again, you wouldn’t be a Kale, would you?”

  Mel wondered how long he had been wanting to ask that question. “Honestly, Gabe, I don’t know how things would’ve been if I wasn’t born into this. But I did try to quit the clan before. And I'm not talking about the leave of absence I took this past year—that was just to save my relationship with Grandma.”

  “You quit? When was this?”

  “It didn’t last long.” Mel laughed. “Only Grandma knew. It was the year before I completed the trials for the first time. I didn’t think I wanted to ascend to Journeyman. If I did, then that would be it. There was no going back.”

  Mel paused, remembering those days. Days spent without purpose. Then one morning she decided to go out for a hike to burn off the excess energy that needed an outlet. And that beautiful day turned into a nightmare that only her skills in Supervivere allowed her to survive. And later, in the middle of the night, when she arrived at her grandmother’s house, Grandma Mari opened the door, took one look at Mel, and brought her back into the fold with open arms.

  “But I’m a Kale,” she said simply.

  “Damn right you are!” agreed Gabe, and clinked her glass.

  The end of a University of Texas football game was playing on the TV overhead, and the conversation turned to complaining about the state of the team. When Victor returned with a fresh round, he joined in without missing a beat. They talked about everything but Victor’s family.

  The food finally arrived, and Mel’s brothers scarfed their tacos down with mouths open and smacking lips. As gross as it was to watch, Mel was thankful for the bad manners, as long as it meant they ate quickly. It was getting late, and they needed to get decent sleep for the morning.

  Mel was just thinking about rounding her brothers up like ducks when a throat cleared behind her and a voice spoke quietly.

  “Traitor.”

  Mel spun around and met the eyes of a tall, fair-skinned man wearing an ostentatious ring with a red stone and a lion. A descendant of Clan Moors. He was with four other men, all of whom were all standing far too close to her.

  “You got a problem?” Gabe said.

  The man looked at Gabe and Victor, his blue eyes full of disdain. “I was just wondering,” he said, his voice melodic and cultured, “why it’s taking so long to deal with this coward among your clan.” He looked down at Mel. “Is it not well known how you Kales cull the weak from your ranks?”

  Mel was surprised at the open hostility at a public place, but at the same time the ridiculousness of this whole situation amused her. She didn’t even recognize this Moors, and if he was someone of worth among his clan, she would know. Which meant this Moors was a nobody—and yet here he stood harassing her.

  Her brothers, on the other hand, were furious.

  “What the fuck business is it of yours?” Gabe said. “You think Clan Kale gives a shit what other clans think of my sister?”

  “So goes the girl, so goes the clan,” the Moors said. “And the girl lacks honor.”

  “You should watch your fucking mouth,” said Gabe.

  Mel could tell her younger brother was spoiling for a
fight. And Victor too. He had a bored look on his face, but the tell was in his eyes. There was a coldness there that was disquieting.

  “You should mind yours,” said the Moors, “before you say something you regret. Unlike Clan Kale, Clan Moors takes our honor seriously, and we will defend it with our lives.”

  “Would you really?” Mel asked.

  She knew there was no defusing this situation. Her brothers were too close to losing control. Their tempers had only three levels: cool, not so cool, and fuck you, I’ll fucking kill you. But a fight in a public place was not good for the clan. Which meant she had to scare the Moors off.

  “Excuse me?” the Moors said.

  “Would you really defend your honor with your life?” Mel asked, looking from the Moors to his friends. “Or are those just empty words, because you feel you have the odds?” She stared right into the tall descendant’s hostile blue eyes. “Because what Kales are also known to do, unlike you Moors, is to stay close to home.”

  The Moors frowned as he realized how quiet the restaurant had gotten. His gaze roamed from table to table, noting the many people—the many Kales—who were eyeing him and his companions with hostility. When at last he looked back to Mel, his expression was not nearly as bold as it had been before.

  “You should go,” Mel said quietly. “Before you find yourself more trouble than you can handle.”

  The Moors and his companions turned to leave.

  “Run along, little lions!” Gabe yelled after them. “I’ll see you in the pit, bitches!”

  Victor snorted and took a drink of his beer.

  Mel let out a breath. Crisis averted. “I doubt you will, Gabe,” she said. “I didn’t recognize any of them, so they don’t get Chosen.”

  “Don’t burst my bubble,” said Gabe. “A man can dream.”

  “And I dreamed of you two showing restraint. And you did. Grandma would be so proud.”

  “Oh, fuck that,” said Gabe. “I was ready to roll. But there are kids here.”

  It was close to eleven, and there were no kids. But instead of pointing that out, Mel smiled and took a sip of her margarita, surrounded by her clansmen, and listened as her brothers argued over who would buy the next round.

  ****

  “You know, Mel,” Gabe said. He was six beers in and on his way to being sloppy drunk. Mel shoved his water toward him. She was pulling the plug. “Once, just once, I wish you would consider competing in Decerto. I’d love it if you’d put Cori O’Shea on her ass. Can you imagine, brotha?” He looked toward Victor. “All of Clan Ferus would go to bed weeping into their pillows.”

  Mel rolled her eyes. There might’ve been a time when she and Cori O’Shea could’ve been friends—maybe even more than friends—but now they were at odds. Or rather, Cori was at odds with Mel for refusing to compete in the games.

  “I’m sure Cori would love for me to compete,” she said, “but it’ll be a cold day in hell before I do anything for her benefit.”

  “She insults you all the time,” Gabe said. “Don’t you want to shut her face?”

  “Nope,” Mel said. But she did. She really did.

  “You should just kiss her already,” said Victor. “It’ll cut the tension.”

  Mel turned her whole body toward her older brother. Unlike Gabe, he had stopped drinking awhile back, and was sucking water out of a straw. “Shut up and drink your water,” she said angrily. “And mind your business.”

  Her brothers snorted and laughed. They sounded like donkeys.

  When they finally piled into Victor’s new truck—a birthday present he’d bought for himself—it was after midnight. They quickly decided they would sleep at Mel’s. Victor said he had his luggage in the back of the truck with everything he needed for the next two weeks, which pretty much confirmed to Mel that he and his wife had a major fight. Mel and Gabe again exchanged a look, but they refrained from asking questions.

  The ride home was quiet. Gabe passed out in the back seat, and Mel and Victor felt no need to speak. Mel leaned back on the headrest, letting the drive lull her into a light doze. Before she knew it, Victor was pulling into her driveway.

  Mel’s house was a simple three-bedroom on the west side, just outside of town. The neighborhood was quiet and dark; no one kept their porch light on.

  But as soon as Mel opened the front door, she knew something was off. It was too dark, too quiet, like when the electricity cuts off at night. She felt, rather than heard, movement from behind the door, and she threw herself on the ground. There was yelling, and a scuffle.

  “Someone get the goddamn lights!” Gabe yelled.

  Mel jumped to her feet and slapped her hand on the switch.

  Gabe had a man subdued against the wall; Victor was standing in front of the two of them. A dagger with an intricate handle lay at their feet, and Victor knelt beside it.

  Mel felt heat explode through her body with a rush that had her sucking for air. Adrenaline, but mostly white rage, coursed through her. It pushed up against the thin wall of her control, pumping with each heartbeat. Not again.

  The familiar heat spread through her chest and into her limbs, all the way to her fingertips and toes. For one terrible second, she felt like she was going to tear into the man and rip his skin clear off his bones.

  She tried to tamp it down. Come on, get a grip. She placed her hand to her chest, feeling her pendant dig into her skin, and took a few calming breaths. Breathe.

  She had recovered enough to reach for her phone to call the police, when she felt an uncomfortable wetness on her neck. She reached back, brought her hand to her face, and saw blood. Just like that, her insides were burning again.

  When Victor saw the blood on her fingers, his eyes turned to brown stone. He leapt to his feet. “You picked the wrong house tonight, bitch,” he said, jerking the man from the wall.

  Then all Mel could hear was the savage crunch of Victor’s fist on cartilage.

  She wished she had been the one to cause it.

  Chapter Two

  It was two in the morning when the police arrived. The deputy took one look at the unconscious man bleeding all over Mel’s carpet and asked if they’d called an ambulance. When they responded with blank looks, he casually radioed in for a bus. Then he focused on the three siblings.

  Mel met his gaze with exhaustion. She had a towel pressed to the back of her neck, and could tell just from the feel of the wound that she needed to get it treated. It was too deep to leave unattended.

  “Have you seen this man before?” the deputy asked.

  “No,” Mel said.

  “Do you know why he was here?”

  “No idea.”

  “Do you know how he got in? Or why he would try to hurt you?”

  No, no, no, no, no—I don’t know! Mel thought, but merely shook her head. This man was just doing his job. But Mel felt her anger and frustration building. For everything and everyone.

  “It looks like he was searching for something,” the deputy said.

  Mel and her brothers had come to the same conclusion. All the drawers and cabinets in every room had been emptied onto the floor. The man had even gone through her bathroom.

  “I agree, but I don’t have a clue what it is,” Mel said.

  The paramedics pushed through the front door and started checking the man’s vitals. Mel had checked him over already, and knew he would be okay. Eventually.

  “He’s got quite a few cuts and bruises,” the deputy said casually. “You guys must’ve worked him over pretty good.”

  Mel almost laughed at the deputy’s understatement. Cuts and bruises weren’t the half of it. A concussion, a bruised eye, a dislocated jaw. A few fractured ribs too. The man still had his teeth, though, which proved to Mel that her brother hadn’t lost control of his anger.

  But Mel would rather eat a bullet than narc on her brother. She shrugged and said distractedly, “I have to buy a new toothbrush. He threw mine in the toilet.”

  The deputy smiled. “T
hat explains it. I would’ve made him pay too. Well, I’ll be in touch if we find anything. Please call me if you remember anything that can help us. And you should definitely see a doctor for that neck wound.”

  He handed her a card with his information and followed EMS out the door.

  Mel let out a relieved breath. She went to the kitchen, threw the soiled towel in the sink, and applied a fresh one. “Victor,” she shouted, “can you drive me? I need to get this stitched up.”

  Instead of a response, she heard Gabe and Victor talking in hushed voices.

  She went to join them in the living room. Victor had kicked off his shoes and was stretched out on the sofa. It took a split second for Mel to understand what that meant.

  “You’re not going to take me?” she said, incredulous.

  “No.”

  “For real? I’m bleeding over here! I probably need stitches.”

  “It’s a nick. Quit being a baby.”

  Oh no, you didn’t. Anger bloomed in her chest. “A nick? Some dude just tried to kill me, you asshole!”

  “But he didn’t kill you. You’re alive, and he’s in jail. Problem solved.”

  “Problem solved?” Mel yelled, her voice sounding shrill even to her ears.

  “Hey, I’ll take you,” Gabe said. “I’ve sobered up. Brotha, give me your keys.”

  “You can’t take my truck.”

  “Fine, we’ll take my car. After you move your goddamn truck!” Mel roared.

  “Hey, brotha,” Victor said calmly, throwing his keys to Gabe. “Would you mind moving my truck for me?”

  As Mel and Gabe left, she heard a high-pitched Sugah from her older brother, but she huffed out the door without looking back.

  ****

  The drive to the hospital was a long, uncomfortable one. At one point, Gabe asked how Mel was doing, and she replied with a “Fine, Gabe! I’m just fucking fine!” After that, he didn’t ask her anything else.

  Thirty minutes later, they were in the emergency room, waiting to get called. Mel kept her eyes on the stark white walls, thinking she was glad that there was no one else in the waiting room other than a young couple with their eyes on the TV. Still, she felt a bit guilty for taking her bad mood out on Gabe. She looked over at him. He had his head back on the chair and his eyes closed, but she could tell he was still awake.