Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel

by Nathan Squiers

  A quarter-of-a-mile later, leaning against the garage of his neighbor’s house, Xander was given control of his body.

  “How… how did you do that?” he’d stammered.

  I’m not sure. Trepis answered after a long pause. I just knew I had to do something.

  With the rush of adrenaline still flooding his system and too many questions that he knew weren’t about to be soon answered, Xander pushed himself to walk to his porch, hoping that it would be an uneventful evening.

  Only to be greeted by an all-too-familiar sound.

  No matter how many times he’d heard it, he could never get used to the sound of his mother crying. As her sobs resonated past the front door Xander, desperate to see what was wrong but hesitant to unveil the truth, held his hand on the knob for a long moment. Finally, after a deep breath, he stepped inside.

  His mother was sprawled on the hall floor, inching back in terror from Kyle. Xander stared, his young body frozen in place and shaking against his will as he watched his stepfather take a deep inhale. He stood over the terrified woman a moment longer before his shoulders tightened and he turned around with a smirk towards Xander.

  In a nightmarish flash, Kyle threw open the coat closet and stuffed Xander’s mom inside, slamming the door in her face and wedging it shut with a broom handle.

  “NO!” she’d wailed, pounding with relentless fury against the door, “LEAVE HIM ALONE, YOU BASTARD!”

  Confident that his time with Xander would be uninterrupted, Kyle curled his lip upward in a sadistic grin and took a step closer to Xander, who, despite Trepis’ encouragement, was unable to move. With another satisfied inhale, Kyle pulled off his belt and doubled over the strip of leather.

  “Have a good day at school, son?”

  ****

  “I’M NOT YOUR GOD DAMN SON!” Xander shrieked, bracing himself for the familiar agony of Kyle’s belt. His eyes flew open as he shot upright. Sweeping some strands of hair from his sweat-soaked brow, his panicked heart finally settled in his chest as he saw that he was not at the mercy of his stepfather.

  Instead, his entire first period class stared at him.

  Somebody up front snickered as others turned to whisper to their neighbors. Feeling his face redden, Xander did his best to ignore his peers and took a deep breath.

  “Stryker!”

  Xander cringed and watched as Mister Nimbe navigated his way from the chalkboard towards him. In a lot of ways seeing the pudgy teacher calmed him. Letting out a slow breath, he reassured himself of the truth:

  Kyle was dead.

  “… enough, Stryker!”

  Hearing his name, Xander snapped out of his thoughts and looked up at Mister Nimbe.

  “Huh?”

  The teacher’s jaw shifted before he slapped a heavy palm down on the desktop. Xander stared at him, continuing to ignore his peers as they gossiped and laughed.

  He didn’t want this kind of attention.

  “Don’t play games with me, you little punk!” Mister Nimbe’s voice seeped through clenched yellow teeth, “The next time you decide to act up in my class, it’s your funeral!”

  A girl sitting nearby cackled, “That’ll be the day!”

  There was another bout of laughter.

  Xander forced himself not to look away from Mister Nimbe, who seemed to bask in the approval of his class. Unable to handle another moment of the humiliation, he snatched his backpack by the strap and pulled it with him as he stood from his desk and hurried for the door. Behind him he heard Mister Nimbe yell after him, but he was already too far out the door to hear it or care.

  “Fucking assholes,” Xander spat. The burning in his cheeks had spread and his entire body started to grow hot with his rage.

  You need to calm down, Trepis said.

  Xander shook his head at the advice. He let out a growl and threw a balled fist into a nearby locker; a jolt of magical energy following through. Withdrawing his hand he saw that he had almost torn the metal off its hinges. He smirked at the results and started walking again.

  Trepis sighed, Was that really necessary?

  “Is any of this really necessary?” he retorted.

  Trepis, after an airy sigh, went silent.

  Xander nodded to himself, satisfied that the voice in his head was finally done criticizing him and continued down the hall. Gripping the pack of cigarettes in his pocket, he turned down the East Wing, dragging the fingers of his left hand across the rows of lockers as he walked.

  Going to see Stan?

  “You know it,” Xander said as he turned another corner and stopped just before the cafeteria, pushing open the door labeled “TEACHER’S LOUNGE” without hesitation.

  An old coffee machine to his right gurgled and belched its greeting as a fresh batch of sludge dripped into a carbon-stained pot. Nearby, a wild-haired woman who Xander recognized as one of the English teachers sat with a crossword puzzle while an over-caffeinated math teacher grunted something about a failing sports team. Reaching with a blind hand for his coffee, he knocked the mug, spilling the contents onto his crotch and swearing as a cloud of steam rose from his pants.

  As expected, neither noticed Xander as he walked in.

  Unable to wait any longer, he retrieved a cigarette and began working to light it, only to have the worn-out lighter spark with useless futility.

  “Damn it!” Xander said, scowling at the lighter before tossing it into the trash.

  “Need a light?” Stan’s voice emerged from the corner of the lounge.

  Xander smiled, “Would you?”

  “Hey!” the coffee-stained teacher frowned at Xander, “You’re not supposed to be in—”

  The man’s eyes went dull, followed soon after by the woman’s, before both stood and walked out the door, closing it behind them as they did.

  Once they were alone, Xander turned towards his friend and smirked, “You’re going to have to teach me how to do that.”

  Stan’s dirty-blonde hair shifted as he shook his head. “Xander, Xander, Xander… it’s not even second period,” he scolded as he held out his hand.

  Xander watched as the cigarette sparked and magically ignited and he was rewarded with a rush of flavor. He smiled and took a long drag before taking it between his fingers and sitting beside his friend.

  “Had the dream again.”

  Stan nodded, his blue-green eyes going solemn, and leaned his head back.

  Xander thought for a moment that he might offer Stan a cigarette as a joke, but thought better of it. Stan always said that the things were a poison and putting those substances in your system was like allowing your own personal Trojan horse into your body time and time again.

  Scowling, Stan turned his head towards him, “What are you going to do with your life, Xander? I see the potential, but…” he sighed then, shaking his head.

  Xander didn’t take his eyes from the floor, “Maybe Yin will take me tonight. Then I won’t have to worry about where I’m going, right?”

  Stan rolled his eyes. “I doubt you’re going to find your escape tonight. Or tomorrow, or even the day after that,” he chuckled. “I mean, if I seriously thought you were in any danger I’d have had you put away long ago.”

  “So why haven’t you?” Xander allowed his eyes to shift in Stan’s direction.

  Stan shrugged, “It’s that whole potential thing I was talking about. You’re not worth much to the world in a padded cell.”

  Xander scoffed, “Wouldn’t say I’m worth much to the world at all!”

  “Or maybe you just don’t see that potential yet,” Stan curled his lip.

  Xander frowned, “Then can you tell me what’s going to happen?”

  Stan shook his head, “I’ve told you before: the future can’t be seen. It hasn’t been written yet.”

  “But you must know something!” Xander did what he could to hide his aggravation, but his lingering rage and growing confusion became too much and the wall groaned against the magical energy and cracked under th
e pressure.

  Stan sighed, “I know that I’m tired of mending this damn wall!”

  Xander nodded, “Sorry.”

  He had lost count of all the times his friend had used his magic to fix what he had broken with his own. This time wasn’t any different.

  Stan focused on the wall; his eyes narrowing with the same intensity they’d shown when lighting Xander’s cigarette. After a silent moment, the pieces of cracked plywood shifted and cracked as they bonded together and the drywall reformed, leaving the wall looking good as new. When it was done, he went back to staring at the ceiling. “How’s Trepis?”

  “He’s… still Trepis.”

  Stan tilted his head and gave him a skeptical look, “Trep?”

  Doing fine, Trepis answered in Xander’s head, Kid’s just being a brat.

  Both Stan and Trepis laughed.

  Xander frowned.

  “Oh, stop being so sensitive!” Stan gave him a few hard pats on the back; his energy stinging like lightning under his skin before it spread like a sweet drug through his system. “You can’t take everything so seriously!”

  Xander smiled against the bizarre sensation and leaned into the couch. “Yea, right,” he didn’t bother trying to mask the sarcasm in his voice.

  Stan, ignoring Xander’s attitude, stared back up at the ceiling, “So what do you want for your birthday?”

  Xander sighed and took another long drag, not stopping until he’d burned up the cig to the filter and blowing the smoke out slow, “I want freedom, Stan.”

  CHAPTER SIX

  That Which Births Rage

  The school day ended with the piercing call of the bell and the sound of hurried footsteps and slamming locker doors.

  Most of the students scurried for the buses that had lined up outside, their diesel engines rumbling as they waited for their loyal cargo to board. Others started off across the parking lot towards the street on bicycles or skateboards while a select few, envied by many, strutted with unmasked pride to their own cars.

  The entire process, in Xander’s mind, was another excuse for the world to shove, pull and trip him several more times before leaving. It wasn’t until he’d gotten past the parking lot—where student drivers honked and yelled obscenities—and crossed into the football field that things began to calm down.

  Once on the gridiron, he let out a sigh of relief.

  “God! They’re like animals!”

  Trepis sighed, I don’t think that’s fair to the animals, Xander.

  “Tell me about it,” Xander scoffed.

  With nothing left to say he started towards the far end of the field. Past that and beyond the fence were the neighboring woods which formed a triangular patch that divided the school, the rest of town and the beginning of the residential area. Most of the time, when walking home, Xander needed only to bank right past that fence and walk a few miles to get home. Today, however, he would head towards the left so that he could go into town and get the new lighter he’d promised himself.

  As he crossed the thirty yard line, he mapped it all out in his mind: after about a mile-or-so he’d come to the library, and across the street from that was the shop run by the all-too-trusting older family who never checked for ID. It was there that Xander had gone for nearly three years to supply him with cigarettes and, when the occasion called for it, a beer or two.

  He was almost to the fence when he heard the familiar laughter growing in volume behind him and his shoulders sagged.

  “Stryker!” Christian’s voice sent a nervous shudder down his spine.

  Don’t turn around!

  “Hey! I’m talking to you, freak-show!”

  Ignore him.

  The voices got closer and Xander did what he could to pick up the pace towards the fence without enticing the bullies to chase him. He made it several more steps before, with the rising chorus of laughter, something hit him in the back of the head. The world went fuzzy as he went down, twisting in the process and landing hard on his shoulder.

  As his eyes uncrossed and his vision cleared he watched the ball that had hit him roll a short distance away. Studying its shape, he wondered why footballs had to be pointed, and, furthermore, if one of those pointed ends had just broken his skull. Dizzy and disoriented, he rolled onto his back and stared up at the portion of sky that wasn’t hidden behind his bangs.

  Get up, Xander! Get the hell up NOW!

  It was too late, though; the laughter was over him and out of the corner of his vision he could see Christian and his friends looking down at him. Running wasn’t an option. He knew just as well as they did that they would catch him.

  Give me control! Trepis called out, Let me take care of this!

  Xander shook his aching head, “What’s the point?”

  Christian laughed, “I think he’s finally lost it!” There was a brief moment where he and his friends laughed before: “Get him up!”

  The other two, a pair of gorillas that Xander recognized from past beatings, grabbed him and hoisted him to his feet—holding his arms on either side so he couldn’t struggle. Picking up the football, Christian tossed it playfully in the air.

  “So are you thinking about joining the team, then?” he asked with a malicious grin, jabbing the ball into Xander’s ribs in between each word.

  Xander frowned and looked away, refusing to meet his tormentor’s gaze.

  Christian scowled and swung with a right hook that tore Xander from the gorillas’ hold and threw him back to the ground. He curled up, trying to protect his sides, only to have Christian drive his foot into his stomach. Xander doubled over, throwing up on the grass…

  …and Christian’s Nikes.

  “You fucking freak!” Christian spat in disgust as he grabbed at Xander and gripped the chain of his necklace.

  As Christian pulled, the metal strained and finally snapped, dropping the pendant into the grass. For a moment Xander could do little more than stare at it as Christian took in the shock in his eyes over the jewelry. Growing gleeful at having found a new technique to torment Xander, he raised his foot and prepared to stomp down on it.

  Xander, seeing this, felt the familiar, burning rage erupt within him. Ignoring the lingering pain, he jumped to his feet and he swung, catching his tormenter of several years in the left temple. Christian let out a pained and surprised grunt as he toppled over.

  Just then, one of the gorillas caught him from behind and tackled him. With a roar of fury, he twisted around, throwing his foot into his attacker’s throat and forcing him back. Seeing an opportunity, Xander snatched up his mother’s pendant and the broken chain before hopping the fence and sprinting into the forest.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Nightmare

  Stan had been right about Yin.

  He was always right about those types of things. Xander sighed and wondered in silent anguish how he could know the fate of his nightly ritual but not know what the future held.

  His new Zippo, however, worked like a charm, giving quick life to his cigarette, which he held between his lips as he went to work on mending the broken chain. When he was confident that it would hold, he slipped on his mother’s pendant and set it on the nightstand. The ruby caught the light from the last burning candle, which he concentrated on and, after some effort, magically snuffed.

  Lying back, he focused on the glowing red tip of the cigarette in his mouth. Trepis talked, though most of the conversation was one-sided, and Xander closed his eyes and let his mind wander to strange worlds where he felt welcomed and meaningful.

  A world where…

  His grandma coughed from her room.

  Xander blinked, noticing that the ash of his cigarette had grown too long and was about to collapse. Careful not to break the length too early, he took the dwindled cigarette from between his lips and put it out in his ashtray.

  What had he been thinking of?

  He closed his eyes again, hoping to revisit the serenity he’d had a moment earlier…

  It�
�s dark, and a sliver of light emerges like a gash.

  Light bleeds into Xander’s shelter and the screams follow. He wants to get out—needs to get out—and digs and pushes against a mountain of coats to get free.

  The claustrophobic darkness closes in until it’s too much to bear and he throws himself forward in one last effort. An opening emerges and he slips free—feeling born again. As he turns towards the womb he’d just emerged from he’s greeted by a screaming, bloodied corpse with a writhing creature inside its depths.

  Before the monster can free itself, there’s a flash and the blinding light wraps around the body as it morphs into a towering figure. It stands over Xander, looming and making him feel scared and weak. Somewhere in the blinding light, a woman screams and Xander looks around frantically.

  “Mom!”

  He sees her necklace; sees her ghostly silhouette coming into focus—struggling to fit itself with its jewelry—and reaching out to him in desperation. Sound dulls and time slows and Xander hears the metallic snap as the necklace is torn from its rightful owner’s neck.

  It echoes…

  The sound ripples the scene and the image distorts before it explodes and he finds himself watching five monsters crawl over a shrieking angel. Blood and feathers fly from the mass as it’s torn apart and a horrified Xander stumbles back as the gore pools on the floor and spreads like a hungry stain. The screams echo and warp into a swarm of angry bees that sting at him inside and out.

  He cries out and runs—hating himself for his cowardice—to the coat closet and slams the door shut against the monsters and the stinging screams.

  It’s dark—so very, very dark—and a sliver of light emerges like a…