“I see you’ve gone through some changes, son,” Kyle said, sounding both angered and entertained. He sighed and shook his head, “This is probably—at least partially—my fault. If I’d have dug deep enough into this shithole.” He poked Tyler’s forehead hard enough to make him flinch. “I’m sure I would have found out that you were”—he gave a wicked smile—“different. But honestly: you disgust me, so I never went too deep.
“So…” he shook his head, looking back at his breakfast plate, “you finally feel the change come over you—find yourself a way to get back at me for all the shit I’ve put you through—and you eat my steak?” he laughed in Tyler’s face, “I mean—”
Tyler lunged forward and snarled—a sound like cinderblocks in a cement mixer—and Kyle grinned as his stepson’s face collided with an invisible barrier. Tyler recoiled, shaking his aching head; dazed and confused. He reached up—his swimming eyes seeing double of his shaky hand—and touched his face, testing to see if he’d broken anything. A hot, furious wave of pain forced him to withdraw as his fingertips pressed against his shattered nose, and, before he could reconsider his options, he was thrown off his feet by an invisible force. Again and again he was slammed against the wall, and, through the torrents of pain wracking his body, he was distantly aware of Kyle as he smiled and crossed his arms across his chest.
How was he doing this?
“Now you listen to me, you repulsive pile of dog shit!” Kyle spat before looking off into the distance for a moment, “I have bigger things to worry about than a prepubescent therion deciding to embrace his inner self; though I do appreciate the effort.” He grinned and patted Tyler’s head, flattening a ruffled portion of hair, “I haven’t tasted determination this strong for quite some time.” His playful features turned hard again and an agonizing wave filled Tyler’s head, causing him to groan in pain, “I’ll give you a choice, and I’m being very fucking generous in doing so!” Again he focused and again Tyler cried out, “I could kill you right here and now and then march my ass up those stairs and do the same to that worthless cunt you care about so dearly.”
Stepping back several paces, Kyle chuckled at his own threat. Tyler, no longer pinned against the wall, lunged at his stepfather again, only to recoil at the sudden, screaming pain in his head.
“Now then,” Kyle went on, “either you can use your newfound strength to fight for me when the time comes—and believe me when I say the time is coming—or I can end yours and Kelly’s wretched existence right now!” The force that had kept Tyler standing drifted away and his body crashed down to the floor. Kyle approached, his boots sounding as he did until he was standing over him, “So what will it be, son?”
CHAPTER THIRTY
Old Friendship, New Life
It was an awkward feeling for Xander when he realized he had nothing to wear. He was relieved, however, that it was not so much a matter of vanity as it was that he had nothing that didn’t smell of dried blood and BO from training.
Stan, who was reading a book on the couch with Trepis sleeping nearby, suggested that he check Marcus’ room. Though his vampire trainer had assured the two of them he was alright, it was clear that he was still shaken from the encounter. Though he’d been more careful with his wording, he’d already left for “the comforts of home,” telling Xander before he left that his training was complete. In his haste to get out of the house and back to his apartment he had, however, neglected to bring most of his things. While Xander thought it a bit bizarre—and not to mention rude—to go rummaging around through someone else’s belongings, he opted for being an impolite creeper rather than a filthy, reeking angel.
In the closet he found a pair of jeans and a black tee that had the faded, unreadable remains of what he could only assume was an old rock band on the front. He put them on and dug further, not seeing any reason to stop when he’d gone that far, to see what else his trainer had left behind. At the far end he came across a red leather jacket and ran his fingers across the worn material. Though Xander couldn’t be sure what color it had been when it was new, it had since lost some of its luster and was the color of blood—a color that Xander had become very familiar with over the past month. Out of curiosity, he pulled it from the closet and slipped it on, finding it somewhat loose but not at all uncomfortable.
Though it was nice and he had every intention of “borrowing” it, he felt that perhaps it would be overkill for the occasion at hand and hung it back up in the closet. He made a mental note to retrieve it later and walked to the bathroom to brush his fangs.
****
The night air was cool and refreshing as Xander jumped into overdrive and headed towards Estella’s old house, hoping she hadn’t moved since his last visit. It took only several seconds to travel the fifteen-or-so miles to her house, which was several seconds that he could have done without; the anxiety to finally come face-to-face with his old friend and apologize for all of his wrongdoings had been eating away at his insides since he’d first heard that she’d been asking about him.
When, at last, he stood in front of the house, he was reassured by the peeling letters on the mailbox that still read “EDASH.” As he approached the entrance, he realized that he didn’t want to knock and go through the discomfort of dealing with her parents and, instead, decided to make his entrance through the attic window—what he hoped was still Estella’s bedroom.
Backing away to get a better view of his intended entrance he noticed that not only were the lights already on in her room but that the window was open as well. For a moment he entertained the notion that his old friend had been keeping her bedroom cool, but the nagging fact that it was early winter and too cold for comfort refused to let him hold on to that belief for very long. Left with no other truth other than the obvious, he took in a deep breath and tried to calm his racing heart.
It was an easy jump to the roof, though landing on the sharply-angled roof proved a bit awkward. He teetered, the sharp slope threatening to drop him back over the edge, before he finally found his footing and began walking towards the window. Taking his time, hoping to elude—if no one but himself—of any views of him being clumsy, he dared his first peek into the room when the voice emerged:
“Come in, Xander. It’s safe.”
He paused as he was not only welcomed inside, but assured of the absence of any third parties. Careful not to move to fast and risk startling his old friend, he ducked his head and poked it inside. Estella sat on her bed at the other side of the room, which housed a combination of posters and several bookshelves crammed with an ample collection. His eyes scanned a few of the titles, not surprised to find that many of them were somehow magical in nature.
He had not been shocked when Stan warned him that she had become a witch in the time they had spent apart, but, seeing her research material, he couldn’t help but realize just how well versed she had become. Finally, his wandering eyes paused, having taken in every detail of the room around him and leaving him with no other option than to finally make eye contact.
“Just on time,” her voice was soft and timid, as though she was afraid of startling a wild animal, “And you don’t have to worry about Mom and Dad… they went to bed a few hours ago.”
Xander took in a sharp inhale and nodded and looked up at her and her bright-orange aura shifted and she cringed and he frowned; she expected him to yell at her. Instead, he pulled a nearby office chair to himself and sat down, leaning forward and exhaling.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “I’ll get out of your head now. And I’m sorry about before.”
Xander looked at her, “Before?”
She nodded and blushed as she realized that he didn’t know what she was referring to, “About entering your mind… more than once.” She smiled and shrugged her left shoulder. “I guess you never picked up on the spells when I was casting them,” she said with a twinge of pride.
Xander smiled at her. She had always been so sweet and innocent and he was glad to see that time hadn’t
tarnished that quality.
“It’s… good to see you again. I will admit, though, I was surprised to hear that you’d been asking about me,” he finally said.
Estella smiled when she heard that and nodded, then suddenly grew still and laced her fingers together in her lap as if she’d done something wrong. “You… you’ve been gone for a while now,” she looked down, “The principal told me you’d moved away after the fire, but he got angry when I asked him where you’d gone.” She smiled, “He always gets angry when someone catches him in a lie. It took forever to finally get Stan to tell me anything.”
He looked up at her again, taking in for the first time how much she had changed. Her hair was still raven-black, though she had let it grow out and her eyes still shone with the same bright blue. As he looked closer, he couldn’t help but notice that her pale face was still somewhat young-looking, though time appeared to have hardened some in the course of her life and giving the appearance of a marble statue. He was surprised that someone so beautiful would be so shy.
“Why did you ask about me?” he interrupted his own thoughts.
She blushed again, “I… never stopped caring about you, Xander. One day you just sort of cut away from the world and we fell apart. I didn’t like it, but there wasn’t much I could seem to do. Every time I—”
“I’m sorry,” Xander frowned looking down, seeing where the conversation was leading. He didn’t want to be reminded of his atrocities towards someone who had been such a good friend over the years.
A far better friend than he’d ever been.
She sat and nodded, smiling, “Can I ask what happened? Why you disappeared and what’s happened to your…” she looked down.
Xander knew what she was thinking and raised a hand to his face, “My eye?” He nodded. She was owed an explanation, “I suppose I should start from the beginning.”
****
After almost two hours Xander finished telling Estella the story of what had happened. She sat on her bed for most of the time, leaning more and more forward in astonishment until she had finally asked him to pause so she could sit on the floor. Shortly after, he moved down from the chair as well feeling it rude to stay seated while she had sacrificed the mattress for his story. When it was over, her face shone with a combination of emotions, her tears flowing down flushed cheeks.
“I’m so sorry,” she finally offered after a long, silent pause.
Xander blushed and looked away, “Don’t be. You haven’t done anything but be a better human being than I thought could exist.” He looked at her and felt his own tears betray him as they burned down his cheek. Looking away from Estella’s prying eyes in embarrassment, he hurried to wipe them away with the back of his hand.
She followed suit, beginning to wipe her own tears and dampening her face in the process. After several long, silent seconds, she smiled at him again. “So you’re really a vampire?” she pressed.
Xander nodded, “Two different kinds in one, actually.”
She giggled and Xander noticed that her cheeks had brightened and she seemed less shy and he couldn’t help but broaden his own smile.
“I’ve missed my best friend for so long,” she confessed. Her eyes went wide as she remembered something and she sprung up, going to a nightstand by her bed and opening the top drawer. After retrieving whatever it was, she returned, holding a ring between her thumb and pointer finger. The stainless steel shone around the edge and Xander smiled at the present as he accepted it and examined the sequence of linear markings that traveled around the band.
“Stan said you’d gotten three already and that if I wanted to get you something it should be another ring,” she explained, “Any style I wanted as long as it was a size eight.”
Xander smirked as he looked back at his present. He didn’t want to imagine how Stan would know his index finger size. He bit his lip, ignoring the pain as his fang pierced it, and took the ring and slid it on next to the others on his left hand.
“Oh! You’re bleeding!” Estella exclaimed, seeing the trickle travel down his chin.
Xander sucked his lip and frowned, “Oh, I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.”
She didn’t listen and grabbed a tissue and began patting at the tiny wound. Xander started to protest but something held him back. And then he realized it: for the first time since his grandmother had died he felt what it was like to be cared for. When at last the wound was cleaned, Estella marveled. The wound, during the process of cleaning, had healed and she mewed happily as she examined it. After a moment it occurred to both of them how close she was to his lips and they blushed and pulled away.
****
Dawn was nearing when Xander finally stood up and told his friend that it was time for him to leave.
The look on Estella’s face showed all of the gloom one would expect from the end of such a wonderful situation, but there was no denying two facts: first—the sun was about to rise, and second—too much had to be done to prepare for Kyle to spend time towards something besides training.
“You need to make me a promise,” Estella called out as he approached the window.
He turned back. After studying her face for a moment he nodded, “I’ll do what I can,” he offered.
Estella blushed and several bolts of orange shot out from her aura as she looked down to hide a tear that had wandered from her left eye and traced a path along the side of her thin nose, “I need you to promise me that you won’t die,” she blushed and looked up at him, “or, at least, not again.” She walked towards him then and grabbed his left hand and ran her thumb over the stainless steel ring she had given him. She had laughed earlier, pointing out how cheap her gift looked next to all the others, and smiled when he’d assured her that it was no less valuable to him, “You have to promise me that I will get to see this”—she sniffled—“on your finger again after all this is over.” Her tears began to flow.
Xander frowned. He had known death was a possibility the moment he heard of what Kyle was and the sort of power he would be going against. The truth of the matter was that he had not intended to live through it; not if it meant bringing Kyle down with him in the process. Looking into Estella’s face, he almost resented her for making him have to aim higher. He let out a deep sigh and looked down.
How could he possibly explain to her what he was going against?
And then it dawned on him…
Sighing, he raised his left hand. He looked back into her eyes, drawn by the hypnotic gaze and a driving desire for the only answer that would make things alright. His hand touched her cheek and she started back as a rush of warmth—not unlike an electric shock—rushed into her skin.
And she saw.
She saw his mother and how she used to be.
She saw Kyle.
Saw the whirlwind of horrors and pain and the hell of Xander’s past.
When at last he removed his hand she collapsed forward with a heavy sob, pushing herself so far into Xander’s chest he felt she might break through and seal herself within him. In a way, he realized, she already had.
As children, whenever they’d passed a dead animal on the road she was prone to fits of tears. She had always sworn against violence and gotten angry with Xander when he had had one of his malicious thoughts. She didn’t have a violent bone in her body. All that set aside, though he knew she would never admit it, he knew that she agreed with his mission.
After a moment, she looked up at him with a saddened nod before another heaving sob was let out and she again buried herself into his chest. He was reluctant to hold her, afraid of what it meant to let himself care for somebody again, but finally he allowed his arms to wrap around her. He brought his right hand to her shoulder and began to draw in the sadness; surprising himself as instinct told him how. He felt her sorrow melt into his skin like wax and his insides cringed—the sensation was awful. Nonetheless, he continued to pull it all away until, at last, she let out a yawn.
He looked at her, pulling away and si
tting on the window sill, and smiled. “I promise,” he whispered, nodding. “I’ll come back when it’s all over.”
She smiled at that and stepped to her desk, tearing out a piece of paper from an open notebook and scribbling on it before handing it to him. Giving it a glance, he recognized the seven digits of a phone number and looked up to see his renewed friend’s orange aura bubble around her. Feeling his cheeks tighten with his growing smile, he stuffed the paper into his pocket, not needing to ask what it was for.
Finally turning away, Xander turned and climbed out the window and dropped down to the ground and started towards Stan’s at a human pace.
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
Training with Stan
Xander had made it home before the sun rose, and the first touches of its rays made him want to kick a puppy. He recalled Range telling him that the first hour of exposure created unsettling paranoia and rage, and he forced himself to ignore the sensation, passing it off. Not wanting to tempt the sun’s effects any further he took the rest of the trip back to Stan’s in overdrive.
Stan had already left for work by the time he’d arrived, leaving behind a present under an old blanket with a note pinned on top. Xander set aside the letter in favor of the surprise and found himself, after flinging the blanket aside, staring at a white and brown rabbit in a wire cage. It hopped about its confines when the cover was removed but calmed soon after and went back to gnawing a piece of lettuce. He frowned at the meal that Stan had left and shrugged, figuring that leaving a hobo on the kitchen counter would have been difficult.
He fed, being sure to end the animal’s life painlessly and disposed of the body in a garbage bag. When he was finished cleaning up he unfolded the note and began reading:
Xander,
I knew you would probably be hungry when
Noir: A Crimson Shadow Novel Page 27
