The woman looked at him and scowled before turning her attention to Marcus, who was still curled up and breathing hard on the ground. After studying her target a moment longer, she signaled to the others and motioned to Stan.
“Deal with that!” she ordered.
A wide, toothy grin swept over the beast-man’s face as his body erupted once again into the towering monstrosity and let out an angry howl. The sound, though loud and intimidating to Xander, seemed drowned and compressed; an effect of Stan’s manipulations, no doubt. As the beast took a step towards him the darkness shimmered and Stan’s glowing eyes widened. The beast lunged forward then as a series of purple lightning bolts erupted from the auric’s chest and lifted him off the ground, hurling him at Stan like an angry, violet storm.
Before Xander had a chance to leap to his trainer’s side the scene before him froze and an infinite number of shining blue eyes opened up all around them, covering the strange shadow-world that Stan had cast upon them. This addition caught not only the woman off guard—causing her to take a slow, unsure step away from Marcus and gaze about in awe—but the attacking mythos as well.
Still in mid-lunge, the monster suddenly reverted to his human form and he stopped and stared at his hands in disbelief, “H-how…?”
The auric, too caught up in his own attack to notice his comrade’s predicament, made it closer before his aura crackled and sparked, disappearing from under him and sending him crashing to the ground with a loud grunt.
The woman hissed and disappeared from Xander’s sight as she jumped into overdrive, appearing in front of Stan a moment later and lunging at him.
As Xander watched, Marcus’ totaled car—a short distance away from Stan—exploded into fragments ranging in size from as small as a bolt to as large as a tire. The pieces hovered in place, the three enemies staring in confused fascination at the eerie spectacle. Then, as Stan took a casual step aside, the car’s components began to fly at them.
The beast-man turned to run only to have his left arm ripped from his shoulder by a hubcap. A pained cry shot out as more debris began to take him apart piece-by-piece. The auric, who had fallen back in surprise, shrieked before he was crushed under his own share of car parts.
As the carnage continued, Xander made his way towards a stunned Marcus.
“My… my car…” he stammered.
Xander nodded, refusing to look away from the scene, “Did… did you know he could do this?” he asked.
Marcus shook his head, though Xander wasn’t sure if it was in response to his question or further disbelief of what they were witnessing.
The two watched as the woman kept her composure against the onslaught, facing off against Stan the whole time.
“Brad”—though the words were whispered they rang out like church bells in the shadow world—“I’m coming.”
And then the whirlwind closed in and took her.
She didn’t scream or cry out, and after several seconds of bitter silence the swirling car parts and severed limbs fell to the ground and faded into the blackness, becoming a part of the nothingness.
As soon as the last traces of car and corpses were gone, the darkness recessed. The once-dead streetlights came back to life one-by-one and the buildings’ lights reappeared a moment before they came into view. As the last of the void was absorbed into Stan, the bent and beaten streetlight emerged—whole and new-looking—shining its light down on Marcus’ fully restored car.
Xander stared at it for a moment and then turned to face Marcus only to be further shocked as his mentor rose, unhurt, to his feet, “But… how?” He looked back at Stan, who had begun to walk towards them.
Marcus grinned and took a deep, full breath and stretched his right arm, “Our man Stan: always full of surprises!” He let out a triumphant laugh and stared at his car for a moment, “Have no idea how you did that, though,” he circled the Subaru, kicking a tire and shaking his head.
Stan stopped in front of Xander, his expression tainted by his obvious exhaustion. No words were spoken for a short while as the two studied one another. Though Xander had always been aware of his friend’s powers, he’d never before witnessed the extent of his abilities. Finally, he turned away, scanning the streets.
“I…” Xander shook his head when he could find no evidence of the event and looked down, unable to think of what to say to his friend.
“You did well,” Stan said, putting a hand on his shoulder and smiling, “It was a lot to take on your first time out, but you handled yourself with as much skill as would be expected at this point.”
Xander frowned and nodded, feeling that, despite the praise, there was more he could have done.
Stan shook his head and chuckled. “You always do this to yourself,” he chided him, turning and walking back towards Marcus’ car, “Come on. There are some things that we should discuss.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Monsters: Outside and in
Xander sat still on Stan’s couch, ignoring the discomfort and trying not to seem unnerved by the drawn-out silence. A sudden pop from the fireplace startled Tiger-Trepis and the animal’s raised head served as a distraction as he reached out and scratched it behind the ear. The tiger, which seemed to be warming up to Xander all over again, closed its eyes and nuzzled against him.
Stan smiled as he watched and took a slow, calculated sip from a fresh bottle of beer. He remained quiet, despite the change in atmosphere, and peered over his shoulder. As he did, his aura crept from his chest and extended in the direction he was staring in.
Soon after they had gotten back to his house, Marcus, though fully healed from the skirmish, had gone to the guest room and locked the door behind him; offering not a single word to the two as he did. Xander hadn’t been too surprised by this, though. The early morning sun was becoming visible over the horizon and his mentor had faced a hard night. He knew that he, too, should be trying to get some rest.
But, at that moment, it was out of the question.
Though he couldn’t see what Stan was “looking” at, he dared a quick peek over his friend’s shoulder, hoping his awakened auric powers might shed some light on what had him so curious.
They didn’t.
“He’ll be fine,” Stan said, his voice calm and his head still pointed towards the guest room. “He’s just been through a lot,” as he said this he reached behind him and pulled the zipper to one of the couch cushions and pulled out a ratty, old package and slid a crumpled cigarette from it.
Xander’s eyes widened, “I thought you didn’t smoke!”
Stan frowned and shrugged, “You’d be surprised what real fighting does to you.” He looked at the tip of the cigarette and Xander watched as his aura extended and touched the tip of the cigarette, flashing suddenly and lighting it. Stan sighed as he took a drag, shaking his head, “I still don’t condone it, though.”
The smoke wafted by and Xander realized how long it had been since he’d last had a cigarette. The transformation had—as everyone had said it would—eradicated his addiction, but it appeared as he reached into his jacket for his own pack that the habit remained.
Stan frowned as he saw this but nevertheless extended his aura across the space that divided them and ignited the end of his own cigarette for him, “Got a lot on your mind now.”
Xander nodded, though he knew it hadn’t been a question. He looked down and blew out a cloud of smoke as he caressed the tip of his left fang with his tongue. Though Stan’s magic had healed him, his body still ached with thirst, and the throbbing in his gums served as an ever-constant reminder. Try as he might, however, he couldn’t convince himself that it was the only thing bothering him.
“You want to talk about it,” another non-question.
He kept his gaze pointed downward and remained motionless, watching the ash lengthen at the end of his cig. The fire sounded again but only the tiger’s tail twitched in response. Xander eyed the animal a moment and switched his probing tongue to the opposite f
ang, traveling its full, hungry length before letting out a breath and looking up, “What was that back there?” he asked, “What did you do?”
Stan nodded, and Xander suspected that he’d been expecting the question, “I brought you all into my aura to better control the outcome. Once you were all a part of me, there was nothing that I couldn’t control.” He shrugged, flicking an ash from the tip of his cigarette and consuming it with his aura before it touched the floor, “It’s actually more complicated than that, but there’s no other way to explain it.” He tilted his head, “But that’s not all that’s bothering you.”
Xander frowned a moment before shuddering at a memory. “Who…” he shook his head and took the cigarette between his fingers, “What was that… that thing that attacked us?”
“Thing?” Stan teased his word choice. Xander noticed, however, that his friend cringed at the mention.
Xander sighed and rolled his eyes, “Yea, you know: the monster guy-dog… thing!” He sighed, “You know what I’m talking about!”
Stan raised his brow, “You noticed that, huh?”
Xander rolled his eyes and took the cigarette between his lips for a quick drag before once again pulling it away, “Don’t play with me right now, Stan!”
“Well… I guess they do still have an effect on me after all these years.”
Xander stared, waiting.
Stan scoffed at himself. “When I first moved here I was attacked by one of those ‘monster guy-dog things’ and saved by your father. Those particular mythos are called theriomorphs—though most have taken to just calling them‘therions’—and they’re the real-life, no bullshit, tear-out-your-heart-and-eat-it bastards who are responsible for all the werewolf legends.” He sighed and took another drag off his cigarette.
Xander frowned, “You said they’re mythos too?”
Stan nodded, raising an eyebrow at him. “You thought it stopped with just vampires?” he quipped.
Xander felt his cheeks redden and shot him a glare, “No! I just didn’t think that there were things like that in the world!”
Stan rolled his eyes, “There’s a lot of ‘things’ out there hiding from humans, Xander.” He sighed and shrugged, taking another long drag off his cigarette, “Sensei once trained with a tribe of anaprieks to learn how to ‘talk’ to animals.”
Xander raised an eyebrow, “Anaprieks?”
“You’ll learn all about it, I’m sure,” Stan peeked over his shoulder again before taking another sip from his beer, followed by a short drag from his cigarette.
Xander frowned, seeing how unnerved his friend was, “A penny for your thoughts, teach.”
Stan shook his head, “You’re not ready for that much bad news, kid.”
Xander bit his lip and looked down. He couldn’t go to sleep knowing there was something big that he didn’t know about. “I didn’t realize there was a limit for bad news tonight,” he forced a weak laugh, “There’s nothing to bring me down from.”
Stan shook his head again and took another long drag followed by an equally long drink, “You really aren’t going to just let the subject drop, are you?”
Xander shook his head.
Stan sighed, holding what remained of his cig upright and focusing his aura on it until it was burned away. When it was gone he waved his hand over his head, fanning away the smell of smoke.
“Stop stalling!” Xander barked, annoyed that he was being made to wait.
Stan frowned up at him and leaned forward. “I’ve been searching around the globe for traces of Kyle,” he explained. “I figured if you were going to go after him then you should at least know where he was.”
“And…” Xander’s interest peaked and he dropped his cigarette into his own empty beer bottle.
“I found him easily,” Stan confessed.
Xander clapped his hands, “Yes! That’s great!” He frowned, shaking his head, “But… wait. How is that bad news?”
Stan gave him a serious look. “I found him easily,” he repeated, “Too easily. There was practically a screaming red beacon telling me where to look. I saw into his head and”—he shifted in his seat—“saw what he’d done…”
Xander narrowed his eyes, sensing that there Stan’s reluctance growing. “What is it?”
Stan looked up, “He’s in Maine. He’s doing to another family what he did to you and your mother. But it’s why he does those things that you should be concerned about!”
“Why…” Xander parroted the word and caught Stan’s eye, “What do you mean?”
“Xander,” Stan gripped his head in his palms, “He’s… he’s not human! He never was!”
“Not… human?” Xander frowned.
Stan nodded, “He’s an auric vampire.”
Xander froze and stared at him in disbelief, not sure what to say to this news. After a long moment of staring, he finally stood and, without another word, walked out of the living room and went to the other guest room to think.
It made sense; that was for goddamn sure. As a mind-feeder, Kyle had been a culinary sadist! He had always seemed to get some twisted pleasure out of torturing him and his mother, and he understood why: the whole time he’d been doing it for their emotions; feeding off of their torment.
It was almost noon when Xander came to grips with this new information. By that time his still somewhat new pack of cigs lay crumpled on the floor and he stared at it, feeling a similar crushing sensation in his chest. With a sigh he leaned back, staring at the ceiling, and wondered how long it had been since the last time he’d been happy. The thought was bubbling through his head when the first knock hit the door. Though slow in rising and crossing the length of the room, he finally turned the knob and allowed Stan in.
“I know you hate it when I look in your head,”—his friend started, handing him a frosty beer,—“but I figure it’s still something I should address.”
Xander glared and took a swig from the offered bottle, “And what is it that you’re seeing?”
Stan frowned and sat on the edge of the bed and lifted the cap of his own beer off with his aura and snatched it in his palm before he took a sip, “You’ve watched a lot of people die lately; people who were close to you. Even if I hadn’t read your mind I could have guessed that you’re feeling lonely and that Marcus and I alone can do little to mend it.”
Xander frowned, “What is it you’re trying to say, Stan?”
Stan sighed and looked at him, “Estella has been asking about you lately. She comes into my office at least once a day asking if I know anything or if there’s any news about you and I’m running out of lies to tell her.”
On top of teaching, Stan often went outside the parameters of his job and helped students with their troubles. Whenever somebody had a problem and needed to chat, they often ignored their guidance counselor in exchange for a meeting with him. While Xander had only visited his office to bitch about his day and talk with him about magic, he almost never went for actual relief for his distress.
But there were those who vented often to him.
Xander looked down, dumbfounded. Estella had been visiting his office? He bit his lip and ignored the pain from his fang, “Estella…”
Stan nodded, “Estella Edash. Old friend of yours, I believe.”
Xander shook his head and sat down next to Stan, “A long time ago, yea. She couldn’t care less about me now, though.” He took a sip of the beer and swallowed it the wrong way and started coughing.
“Not what she’s been telling me lately,” Stan said, ignoring the coughing fit.
Xander fought to stifle his hacking, “W-what are y-y-you talking a-about?”
Stan smiled and looked over at him with a sly grin, “You think a girl will waste her breath asking about somebody she doesn’t care about?”
Xander frowned and coughed one last time before looking down, “What have you told her?”
“Only that you’re alright and that I’d tell you she was asking,” Stan answered before taking a sip
from his beer.
Thinking about his old relationship with Estella in their Elementary school days, Xander realized that she had never done or said anything to end their friendship. In silent astonishment and horror, he realized that he’d been pushing away an ally all that time.
He knew the direction Stan was taking this in, and he agreed.
He had to visit Estella.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
A Young Therion
A part of Tyler—the part that still believed in the dreams—played with the idea of tearing Kyle apart as he tried his best to ignore the hollowed, pained groans and grunts that echoed down the hall of the floor above him. He knew better than to ever be curious about those sounds again, and his stomach turned at the memory of walking into their room and seeing Kelly and Kyle doing things that he and his friends at school used to joke about on the bus.
The mental image of Kelly’s battered body bouncing on Kyle made the fifteen year-old-boy shiver. He was relieved that Kelly hadn’t noticed. The memory of seeing his foster mother and her husband engaged in the emotionless act had been far less disturbing than the horrible and deranged grin that Kyle had bared to him at the time.
Shivering again, Tyler attempted to drown out the sounds and the memories they brought by turning up the volume on the TV.
The snow was falling again, and rather than watching the cartoon that flashed bright colors and shrill noises at him he let its exaggerated noises fill the room as he watched through the nearby window at the surrounding forest as it was buried deeper in layer after layer of powder. He watched, as a chorus of high-pitched cartoon banter fell on lame ears, for a short while before becoming both tired of the sound and upset by the sight and left both behind to sit in his room with his comic books.
Time passed as it usually did when he read: fast and, thankfully, without any reminders of the real world and its constant pain. After a deep yawn, he looked at his alarm-clock and was surprised to see that four hours had passed. He set down the comic he was working on and, despite his growling stomach, decided to get ready for bed.
Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel Page 25
