Xander smirked, turning off the faucet. “Where’s the fun in that?”
There was an odd sensation as Trepis scoffed. The arts are tainting you.
Xander thought for a moment as he watched the hot water darken. “They always do.”
The knowledge of magic, like Trepis, had been with him his entire life. He wasn’t sure for how long he’d had the power, or even how he’d learned to control it—though the control part had become something of an issue—but he knew that it felt right. Nevertheless, he had the power and, though he couldn’t bring himself to use it against others, it sure made a great cup of tea.
With his breakfast brewing, he opened the refrigerator and grabbed a carton of milk, pouring a splash into the mug along with a spoonful of sugar. When he was finished, he took his first sip; letting the warmth and flavor linger in his mouth before gulping it down.
The burner, Trepis reminded him.
Xander glanced over at the stove, seeing that the metal coil was, indeed, bright orange and waiting. The sight triggered a tremble at his core—an old scar at his back beginning to itch—before he buried the memory and pushed himself to approach the stove. “Thanks,” he grumbled as he reached into his pocket and retrieved the pack of cigarettes and pulled one of the cylinders free with his teeth. Still clenching down on the filter, he bowed down and touched the tip to the burner and inhaled.
You are an odd one. Trepis said.
Xander shook his head. “You say that every morning.”
And it’s never any less true.
He chuckled at this before taking the cigarette from his mouth and chugging the rest of his breakfast. A few more deep drags later and the cig had been reduced to nothing but its filter. This he crumpled and dowsed with water before wrapping it in a paper towel and tossing it into the garbage. Finally, certain that his grandma wouldn’t suspect anything, he closed and locked the window and started for the door.
Coat, Trepis reminded him.
Xander rolled his eyes and started to turn back before stopping, a sly grin creeping across his face.
That feeling of freedom was calling to him once more.
Focusing his energies again, he stretched his hand out in the direction of his coat—still hanging on the rack at the other side of the kitchen. Directing all of his attention on the garment, he watched through squinted eyes as it began to shake. Finally, the force of its tremors became too great and it freed itself from the rack and…
Fell to the floor.
“Dammit!” Xander crossed the kitchen and picked it up.
There was a slight chitter in the back of his mind that signified his friend’s laughter. The Force is weak with this one!
“Shut up!”
Trepis sighed, The arts have tainted you, my friend.
Xander frowned, “They always do.”
CHAPTER FOUR
Strange Days
Xander watched with almost no surprise as the bus skipped his stop once again. The driver had become selective about stopping at his house ever since he’d gotten in trouble for “starting an incident” on the ride to school. Nobody had cared too much that the incident in question had left him with a torn lip and a ripped shirt that later got him sent to the principal’s office for “inappropriate attire.”
With the diesel exhaust still burning in his nostrils and the bus growing smaller with distance he watched as a few of his peers ran to the back window to taunt him. Turning away from the beginning of the day’s tortures, he sighed and walked back towards his house.
Did you honestly think that the driver would stop?
Xander frowned, “He could have.”
But did you think he would?
Xander stared off for a moment; had he expected the driver to stop? Or was he waiting for something else? He looked around; perhaps it wasn’t the bus he was out there for.
I just wonder why you do this to yourse—
“Wait…” Xander could feel something; a tickle in his mind.
Turning around, he was surprised to find a young boy—no older than eight or nine—standing just behind him. He shook his head, confused. Xander stared a moment longer, captivated. The boy seemed out of place, standing, unmoving, in a well-tailored blue suit and combed blond hair.
Suddenly, as though a switch had been flipped, the child blinked and life emerged behind his blue eyes. Xander frowned and took a step away. The boy smiled then, reaching out his hand.
“You will come with me now?” he asked in a small voice that seemed to echo in Xander’s ears.
Xander shuddered and took another step away.
The boy saw this and tilted his head, staring for a long moment before turning away.
No more words were spoken.
No purposes expressed.
Xander frowned. “Creepy little shit.”
What was that all about? Trepis asked.
“Fuck if I know. Not like it’s anything new,” Xander said. Though he hated the attention, he’d gotten used to people—especially children—acting weird around him.
He seemed different.
“You mean because he wasn’t afraid of me?”
No! It was his mind!
Xander frowned, “What about it?”
There was nothing there!
Xander rolled his eyes, “Then he was retarded! Will you forget about it?”
No! You don’t understand! Trepis urged. There was nothing there at all!
Xander had long-since given up trying to figure out how Trepis could look into peoples’ heads and had come to accept it. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
I don’t know. Trepis answered with a sigh—an airy sensation inside Xander’s head.
He shook his head in disbelief, “Why would you not be able to see inside his mind? He couldn’t have been powerful enough to put up a shield!”
That’s what confuses me.
***
The old Volvo hacked to life; coughing up a black cloud of smoke that smelled like burning oil and rust. The once red paint was chipped and faded and was the shade of dried blood. Grandma shifted into gear and cringed at the sudden screech of metal against metal as the transmission stuck.
“Damn clutch!” she cursed.
Xander chuckled. She might have been older than the sun, but she was still full of life; still vibrant despite losing a husband, a son, and a daughter in law and inheriting a miserable, traumatized grandson.
His smile melted away and he turned to look out the window, wondering which one of them would have to suffer the loss of the other. Could he handle another loss? Would the pain of her death be the last twist of the knife, or would Yin finally take pity on him and take his life before she met her own end? She’d already suffered so much, having lost her husband so many years back. And then there was her son—Xander’s father—who had been killed in a mugging months before Xander had been born.
And then there was her daughter-in-law…
The car whined and belched out another cloud of black smoke that was carried away by a soft October wind. The sound and smell were enough to pull him out of his thoughts and he sighed as he saw that they had arrived at the school.
Old hinges squealed as the door was forced open and Xander cringed as several passersby looked his way. His grandma, seeing his reluctance, gave him a reassuring smile.
“Try to have a good day, sweetie,” she called behind him.
Xander stumbled and turned to face her, forcing a weak smile in return. “Thanks, Grandma. I’m going to walk home this afternoon, so you don’t need to worry about picking me up.”
She nodded and an awkward silence followed as they waited to see if the other would say anything else. Finally, Xander pushed the door shut and watched as the car pulled away.
Another day in Hell, eh? Trepis said.
“This isn’t Hell,” Xander grumbled as he started towards the entrance, “The Devil’s not that wicked.”
CHAPTER FIVE
Friends: Old and New
Trepis, of course, had always been there—since as far back as he could remember, in fact—but the ever-constant voice in his head could never replace the company of another human being. His last—and, for all intents and purposes, his only—real friendship had long since ended along with his childhood.
Estella…
Even then, in the comforting embrace of innocence and youth, Xander had a bully problem and had already learned that his safest option was to stay quiet and do nothing to attract unwanted attention. It was for this reason that the day the new girl stepped through the door, her shoulder-length black hair tied back with a red ribbon for her first day and a pair of bright and exuberant blue eyes that searched around the colorful room, he did not look up or speak. Even when the teacher instructed the class to greet their “new friend,” young Xander knew better than to let his voice be heard. He knew better than to get involved. There was not a doubt in his mind that this newcomer would be like all the others: cruel and uncaring. Instead he sat, hunched over a piece of yellow construction paper, and busied himself with a set of crayons.
It was only after the new girl had pulled out the seat next to him and settled down that he had bothered to look up. Unlike the others she didn’t seem shy or nervous around him; nor did she sneer at the sight of him or insult him like everyone else! Instead she smiled—the first he’d ever seen directed at him from a classmate—and began to draw as well.
That day, on the playground during recess, Xander had retreated to the shade of a tree next to the fence that penned them in. Comfortable in his peaceful solitude, he’d pulled the apple that his mother had given to him out of his Ninja Turtles lunch box and began to eat. The tree was one of the few places that nobody else had played around; the others preferring the jungle gym that occupied the center of the playground. This worked to Xander’s advantage, allowing him to both avoid those who would make him eat dirt and talk in secret to Trepis.
He’d been halfway through his treat that day when the first of the screams started. Peeking around the trunk, he saw that the source of the wailing was the new girl who, sitting in the center of the sandbox, continued to cry out as she wiped at her face. Standing over her and holding a fresh handful of sand and cackling was one of the boys that regularly bullied Xander. At that point, just as the boy tossed his second helping of sand in the girl’s face, the ribbon had come undone and fallen into the sandbox. Other kids circled around to watch, some beginning to laugh. Unsure of what to do but desperate to help, Xander had left the security of his tree and hurried towards them.
Another handful of sand was thrown, this one filling the girl’s open mouth and causing her to cough and gag. Reaching the sandbox, Xander had tried to pull the boy away, screaming at him to stop. Seeing who was dragging on him, the bully had yelled a bad word and pushed him away.
All of this had occurred in the span of several seconds, and by the time their teacher had gotten to the scene to break up the situation the two were coated in a fresh layer of sand. With the bully being dragged inside for his punishment, the two had brushed themselves off and retreated to the safety of Xander’s tree.
That day saw the beginning of their friendship; a friendship that both were certain would last forever…
But, like everything in Xander’s life, that too had gone sour.
Stepping through the double doors and into the bustling high-school hallway, Xander spotted his old friend at her locker; her short hair hiding most of her face from the side. He stared for a moment, thinking of the friendship they’d once shared and, like every time he spotted her, regretting the loss. Finally collecting all her things, she slammed the locker closed, the impact jarring Xander back to the moment, and walked down the hall towards her first class.
Xander… Trepis’ voice rang with pity.
Xander knew he was in for a lecture if he didn’t act fast: “Don’t!”
But she—
“I don’t care!” Xander lied to himself and his friend as he turned a bend in the hall and stopped, sidestepping to avoid a group of gossiping girls.
There was a slight rattle inside his head—Trepis was annoyed—and he rubbed at his temple with his thumb as he stepped through the door to his first class and scurried to the rear corner of the room. Letting his bag slip from his shoulder, he stuffed it under his desk before taking his seat, avoiding any sort of eye contact with his classmates as he did.
For some reason he couldn’t shake the bubbling thoughts of the little boy from earlier or the ever-growing and unsettling sensation that he’d felt since that morning. The entire situation made his head spin; a deep exhaustion beginning to overtake him. He yawned just as the final bell rang and, crossing his arms on his desk, set his head down to try and ease the dizziness.
****
Trepis was and always had been a mystery; a mystery that had been with Xander his entire life. The self-named voice—which had served as Xander’s longest lasting and truest friendship—had existed since as far back as he could remember.
For a short while the idea was toyed with that the voice was nothing more than a result of some mental illness, and the two of them discussed this possibility in depth. But something in that didn’t seem right. Though there was no evidence to support the claim, Xander knew the truth:
He wasn’t crazy; Trepis was real!
Though his mom had always insisted that he take the bus home from school, Xander knew it was safer for him if he just walked. He didn’t mind it, though. It wasn’t too far and the path was a straight shot from school; though it did call for the occasional cut through some backyards and the climbing of a few fences. More than anything, though, the walk was an opportunity to chat with Trepis.
His only regret was that his house was in the opposite direction of Estella’s and he couldn’t walk home with her. A couple of times she’d asked if she could walk with him and go to his house, and though the idea seemed exciting at first he knew that what was waiting for him at home was not something he wanted Estella to experience. At first she was persistent with the request and it seemed that he might run out of excuses, but she soon became discouraged and never asked again.
So each day, rain or shine, he walked home alone and talked with the voice inside his head.
Until the day came that Trepis proved himself to be so much more.
That spring day had brought with it a warm and inviting afternoon. The last of lingering snow had melted, leaving behind damp grass and well-fed weeds that poked up through cracks in the sidewalk. The beauty of the day and the pleasant exchange with Trepis had young Xander almost forgetting about the potential torture he was heading home to.
He had become aware of the sudden threat much too late for his own good, recognizing the sound of wheels on pavement and beads on bicycle spokes. At first he had refused to turn around, hoping that they’d leave him alone, but whoever it was refused to pass. Eventually it became too much to bear and he peeked over his shoulder to get a look at who was following him.
There were five of them: two that he recognized from class and three older boys he’d never seen before. They circled him; two blocking him on their bikes while a third swayed back and forth on the other side in a pair of inline skates. The two he recognized—both holding skateboards at their sides—took their places, boxing him in.
The older boys chuckled while the others waited for them to make the first move. Finally, bored with waiting, one of the kids behind Xander shoved him forward and into one of the older kids, who smirked and pushed him again. With nobody on the other side to stop his fall he hit the pavement, his hands—spread out in front of him to stop the fall—catching the corners.
Xander had learned earlier not to encourage bullies by crying out, and as the pain flooded his body he gritted his teeth to keep himself from making a sound. His eyes burned as tears began to surface and he clenched his lids against them.
“He went down so easy!”
one of the older boys teased.
Another laughed. “I’m not surprised.”
The entire group cracked up and the boy on the inline skates rolled forward. Xander had begun to lift himself from the ground and began to dislodge the small rocks from his palms. As he rose, one of the boys jabbed him in the ribs with his skateboard. Xander cringed and a pained hiss forced itself past his clenched teeth.
Why? He’d wondered to himself. Why do they hate me?
Let me help! Trepis called out.
Xander frowned.
Help?
What help could a voice offer?
It made no sense!
A foot came down on his back and caused him to finally cry out as he once again fell to the ground. As the attacker ground their toe into the base of his spine a red-hot anger grew deep within him. He wanted these boys to feel the agony they and everyone like them had put him through.
Trepis answered the call.
It had begun with the strange sensation that he was falling; an intense nausea sweeping over him. Then he watched as his body acted without his orders, and he knew that this was the help that his friend had offered. Trepis, in full control of the body, pushed out against the older boy. Letting out a baffled grunt, the boy stumbled as the nine-year-old swung out with his left arm, knocking his standing leg out from under him. With nothing to support himself with, the boy fell forward.
Xander watched from the back of his own mind as the boy’s face met with the sidewalk and let out a wet gasp as he tried to suck in a breath. Stumbling and shaking in pain, he pulled himself up and spit out a mouthful of blood and let out a sharp sob before running off, cupping his mouth with his hands and leaving his bike behind.
Trepis, no longer pinned down, pulled the body to its feet and turned towards one of the younger boys, who gripped his skateboard and swung at him. Trepis ducked under the attack and grabbed onto the boy’s shirt, and yanked. The bully’s eyes went wide with surprise as their victim, a boy who had never fought back before, threw him into the other older kid—still perched on his bicycle—and knocked them both down. The younger boy cried out as he struggled to get up, only to discover he had gotten caught in the bike’s chain. The bike’s owner, trying to get out from under the metal frame, cried out as the other’s weight came down on him. Those who remained standing gawked at what had transpired before taking a cautious step back, giving Trepis the opportunity to sprint away.
Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel Page 4
