Among You

by Jack Wallen

  I opened my mouth to speak, only to hear indecipherable babble escape.

  “He’s going to die,” another voice joined the dreamscape.

  A crash of thunder boomed and faded into the sound of a death-slow heartbeat. The beat became erratic and again slowed its pace. With each beat of the irregular heart, I faded further and further from existence.

  Another crash of thunder. This time, the scene didn’t shatter – I did.

  Or, at least, my face shattered. As the pieces of my flesh fell away, a gray-green replacement stared back. The new me opened its mouth and a barrage of voices rushed out. I could only catch glimpses of words.

  Lies.

  Beasts.

  Hatred.

  Monstrous.

  Secrets.

  Underground.

  The song of voices rose in volume until the sound transformed into pain. I covered my ears and pressed inward until my skull threatened to crack.

  “No,” I shouted until my lungs ached for breath.

  The cacophony was replaced by a single note, played by an unfamiliar instrument. Very slowly, the sound faded to silence.

  I closed my eyes against the fear of a returning nothingness. The silence gave way to a bone-crushing pain in my chest which, in turn, ushered my heartbeat’s return.

  When I opened my eyes again, three blurred figures hovered above me. Angels without wings. Gods among monsters.

  Monsters and freedom.

  twenty-one | die and live

  “Scott.” The familiar voice greeted my ringing ears.

  “Sally? Is that you?” My voice cracked as if I’d been screaming for hours. I tried to sit up, but my muscles refused to comply with the command.

  “What happened? Where am I?”

  The next voice was a caress of perfect harmony.

  “You’re in the Gualtier House. There was…” Babbette’s voice broke. “Skorsdan used a forbidden power on you.”

  “Babbette, my dear…” The intimidating form of Gorman Gaultier stepped into the picture. He placed a hand on his daughter’s shoulder and she stepped aside. Gaultier stood next to the slab where I lay and looked down upon me. Within the golden cast of his eyes, a million secrets stirred.

  “Scott,” Gorman’s deep voice surrounded me like a warm blanket. “You have been touched by an ancient blessing. What we had to suffer years of pain and endless torture for, you have been given as an effortless gift.”

  If that was effortless…

  I finally sat up. The act was slow and sent shock waves of electricity through my body, but I managed to eventually elevate my torso beyond the horizontal plane. My body came to rest, but the weight of my head sent my neck craning forward.

  A strange sucking and slipping sound caressed my ears. Something fell from my head and dropped into my lap. When I picked it up and turned it to face me, my entire body instantly and violently convulsed.

  “What is this?”

  I held unsteady hands up to Gorman. Clutched in my fingertips was a mask – a perfect likeness of me. I turned the mask back to me and sucked in a deep breath. A rain of tears fell from my eyes.

  I looked to Sally. She shrieked in fear and turned to Gorman. “Oh my God. What have you done?”

  Gorman looked at me with eyes that begged my absolute attention. “I did the one thing that could be done. I saved your friend from death’s grasp. This was the only way. The energy Skorsdan used caused this change. Our only choices were to let him die or bring him back. I gave the choice to you…and you made it.”

  I stood on rubbery legs and slowly made my way over to the lone mirror in the room. Before I reached the wall, a Siouxsie and the Banshees song popped into my head to remind me even the greatest stars dislike themselves in the looking glass. Why there was comfort in that, I’d never know. Something in the words gave me the strength I needed to face the dread fear.

  “Son,” Gorman spoke softly. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

  I couldn’t speak at the moment. I waved everyone away and steadied myself against the wall. The mirror was in front of me. All I had to do was look up and take in the new lie.

  I wasn’t surprised by what I saw.

  Greenish-gray skin.

  Golden eyes.

  The tiniest horns peeked out from under the flesh of my forehead.

  My insides knotted up and a raging howl escaped my mouth. The reality crushed me, tossed me back. Just before I went down, my legs regained control and held me upright. I stood, breathing in harsh, violent gasps.

  The question that needed to be asked was there, right under the surface of my breath. I just didn’t want to ask it – or, rather, didn’t want it answered. What I wanted was to escape from the concerned looks of my friends and from the hateful weight of reality.

  “I didn’t ask for this.” My voice was a sandpaper rattle. “I don’t want this.”

  My tear-drowned eyes finally locked sight with Sally. The warmth from her gaze melted the anger and ice in my heart. I felt swallowed whole by familiarity. As quickly as the rage rose, it fell away. I dropped to my knees and wept.

  Sally rushed to my side and wrapped me in a blanket of her comforting arms.

  “I am…’Kind?” My voice choked and chugged.

  “Yes, Son, you are,” answered Gorman.

  I carefully pulled away from Sally. The mask was still in my hand. I raised it so I could give it a closer inspection. There was nothing on the back side to secure it to my head. In fact, the inside was smooth and soft. I touched the tips of my fingers to my cheeks to feel the rough ‘Kind skin. The lump in my throat doubled in size.

  It took me a moment to build up my courage, but eventually I raised the mask to my head and felt the warm beckon of the flesh-like material. When the mask and my skin came into contact, it was as if they’d been lovers in a former life. There was a familiarity that shouldn’t exist between man and monster. The mask settled into place and, by some chance of magic or inverse law of physics, it held tight.

  I stood and walked back to the mirror. The mask hid every aspect of the new beast that was me. What looked back was the Scott Maskey I’d known all of my life.

  “I am…’Kind.” I said with an odd sense of finality.

  “You are ‘Kind,” Babbette repeated, cautiously.

  “No,” Sally cried out. “This can’t be. He’s my…I can’t lose him.”

  Sally rushed back to my side and laid her head on my chest. Her tears soaked through my shirt. I placed a hand on her head and stroked her hair.

  “Skorsdan.” The ragged whisper seeped from my mouth. “He did this to me.”

  Before my brain could register what was happening, I turned to Gorman and released a raging bellow. “Where is he?”

  Gorman stepped forward, his hands raised in a peaceful gesture. “I have my men searching for him. We will find the boy and bring him to justice.”

  I could feel heat rising to burn the whites of my eyes. “No. You won’t.”

  Without another word, I raced out of the room and the house. When the cool night air touched my flesh, I felt alive in a way I’d never known. I could feel the blood rush through my veins, my heart beat in a mystical rhythm I’d never heard, my vision hinted at dimensional layers that probably weren’t actually there. It could have been the surge of adrenaline or some newfound connection to the darkness of night; but something infused me with a rush of life that made me want to weep at the knowing.

  “Skorsdan,” I screamed. The sound echoed around me and sent a murder of crows off into the blackness.

  A door to the Gaultier House opened. A current of warm air caressed my backside like a familiar lover.

  “Scott,” Sally’s voice greeted my ears. “Wait.”

  There was no time for waiting. There was only time for the hunt and the kill. The scales of justice had to be righted. The only way to reset the balance was death. Skorsdan’s death.

  I turned my head to get a glimpse of Sally. For the briefest of
moments I saw her in such a different light. She was so beautiful. There was an elegance in our familiarity, a sensuality I never picked up on.

  Until now.

  “Wait for me, Sally.”

  I had no idea if she caught the hidden meaning in the simple sentence. There wasn’t time to find out or explain. The night, and vengeance, called me.

  *

  How was I to find a single creature in a belly full of beasts? Tyler’s End was home to possibly thousands of ‘Kind; yet here I was in a mad-hatter, rage-blind, search for one. The only thing on my side was ego. Skorsdan seemed the type that would allow his precious sense of self to get in the way of, quite literally, saving his own ass. Holding onto this idea was my only hope. To that end, I sprinted around the streets of town calling out his name.

  “Coward,” I screamed. “Skorsdan, you and I have a score to settle.”

  Nothing. I continued on. My vision spun and drifted. My mind filled with an unfamiliar chaos. My hand shot up to my eyes to stop the dizzying spin. The pressure of my fingers caused my mask to slip; a gut-punch reminder of what had happened.

  I dropped to my knees. It took every ounce of control and will to keep from losing it, right in the middle of Tyler’s End. Change was still busy, warping the weft of my brain. Clarity came to me in drips and drabs. On my knees, heaving sobs of pain, the chaos subsided and allowed me to continue on.

  The heart of the city loomed before me. Bars and art galleries sung their siren song to draw a youthful crowd into a shrine of gluttony and avarice. Lust could be sold on any level – with the slightest hint of flesh and lips.

  A beautiful young couple walked by, hands interlocked. Every few feet they stopped and kissed. The act of affection gave birth to the idea that would save this wretched evening.

  From an open bar, a Massive Attack song poured out into the street. The rhythm of the song brought an energy to my quest I desperately needed.

  I stopped and screamed, “Skorsdan, Babbette is mine. You never had a chance.” I continued my ploy. “Why would such a beautiful girl fall for a masterpiece of filth and rot like you?”

  Before another word left my mouth, I sensed him…behind me. All forward motion on my part stopped. Without turning, I said, “Welcome to the thunderdome. Prepare to die.”

  I whipped around and noticed my hands both glowing brilliant orange. The second Skorsdan saw the surge of power, he dropped his arms to ignite his own special brand of destruction.

  “I don’t get it, human. You know you will die and yet, here you are. Whatever shall I do with you?”

  Skorsdan raised a hand at me. A bolt of bluish light shot out and thumped me in the chest. This time I was prepared and leaned into the blast. The burning sensation faded with each, deep breath on my part. The pain was a violent shock, not nearly as great as when I was human.

  The bolt faded out. My body threatened to shake and twist; my mind refused to relinquish control…not until Skorsdan was nothing more than a stain on the ground.

  It was my turn. Newly realized instinct told me to raise my arms and attempt the same feat as Skorsdan. My hands burned. A brilliant orange light danced around my hands and wrists. A single word was given life in my brain.

  Die.

  The light erupted from my hands and shot across the empty space between two bodies. The orange glow enveloped Skorsdan; his face clearly revealed the pain his voice refused to vocalize.

  Again, I thought…

  Die.

  A dark pulse shot from my hand and traversed the orange beam. Skorsdan caught sight of the black spot and screamed. When the darkness reached the field of energy around Skorsdan, it crackled and sparked like lightning and wrapped around the globe of light containing the still screaming Skorsdan.

  “Scott,” the booming voice called from behind. “Stop this, now.”

  It was Gorman, his voice laced with a demand I chose to ignore.

  “Scott, please.”

  Sally’s voice connected with something deep inside of me. The plea unleashed a torrent of emotions into my system. Before I could tune out the voices and suppress the crush of feelings, a tender hand touched my shoulder.

  “Don’t do this, Scott.”

  I didn’t need to hear the voice to know it was Sally. Her touch alone was enough to clue me in.

  “This violence…it isn’t you.”

  Skorsdan was on his knees, rivulets of blood racing down his cheeks. The image promised to lay my soul to waste. Every ounce of my conscience begged me to comply with Sally and Gorman before it was too late.

  Sally was right, this is not me. Scott Maskey is not a killer.

  I dropped my arms. The orange glow faded and Skorsdan fell, limp, to the ground. Immediately, Gorman had his phone in hand and was dialing what could only be the ‘Kind version of 911. He rushed to Skorsdan’s side. I watched, my breath on hold. Guilt quickly did its number on me and I nearly dropped. There’d be no way for me to handle the blow to my conscience if Skorsdan didn’t make it.

  Gorman turned to me and nodded. “He’s alive…but just barely. If we don’t get him help immediately, I cannot say if he’ll survive.”

  “What do we do?” I asked.

  Gorman stared at me, his eyes still riddled with anger.

  “If we get him back to the mansion immediately, I could stop the downward spiral.”

  Something in the back of my mind begged for my attention. A tickle of power hinted at a source of salvation. Power still surged through my body; it begged to leap out and connect with the prone body of Skorsdan.

  “I can help him,” I whispered.

  Gorman turned to me. “How?”

  “It all lies within a single word,” I replied.

  Before Gorman had the chance to accept or deny my offer, I knelt next to Skorsdan’s body and placed a hand on his chest.

  Live, I thought.

  The orange glow returned, only this time with a calm intensity. I focused down on Skorsdan’s body and felt a tremendous drain on my energy. Something was passing between us – from me to him – some energy or life force. The drain grew exponentially until I felt a weakness start to crash my system. Surrounding voices muted and skewed; my vision blurred and my head grew leaden.

  The energy released me and I fell back. Everything fell into a slow motion dive to the concrete below. Just before my head met sidewalk, a pair of hands rescued me from concussion-ville.

  “I’ve got you, Scott.”

  I looked up to see Sally’s eyes beaming down at me. In a breath, my heart melted and swelled. Tears rained down from above.

  “Shhhhh,” I hushed Sally, weakly. “It’s going to be okay. Now my nickname actually fits.”

  My attempt at humor worked. I could feel Sally shudder with a slight laugh.

  My vision blurred and refocused. I dove deep into the pool of Sally’s eyes. My voice was a mere whisper. “As long as you are by my side and in my heart, we can make this work.”

  Sally pulled me into an embrace and unleashed a body-wracking sob. Between the sobs and gasps, she communicated perfectly with silence.

  “Scott,” Sally’s whisper reached my ears. “What are you saying?”

  “I’m saying…” my voice faded along with consciousness.

  twenty-two | grace

  I awoke in an unfamiliar room. My eyelids heavy, my tongue thick.

  “Scott.” Sally’s comforting voice found me. “Welcome back.” Her smile pulled me from the blackness that held me captive.

  “What happened?” I tried to sit up.

  “No, no, no. Just lay there for a bit. I want Gorman to see you before you try to move. I’ll be right back.”

  Sally stepped out of the room. Alone, I forced my mind back into the recesses of thought. A floodgate opened and drowned me in memory. The shock of the images jerked me up. I sat in the bed, instantly covered in a cold sweat. Slowly my body returned to the bed, sheets and blankets comforting my shuddering body.

  “How is the youngest o
f the ‘Kinds new generation? Feel like you’ve been crushed by Shao’li’s Hammer?” It was Gorman, with an oddly out of place smile stretched across his lips. “Can you sit up for me?”

  I did. Without the rush of madness inspiring my muscles, the task of sitting up was slow…and a bit painful.

  Gorman proceeded to poke and prod me in places that didn’t fall into any awkward-zone categories. He was gentle, fatherly.

  “Scott, I want you to know Skorsdan is alive. He is in custody and will be tried and punished for using forbidden powers on you.”

  It felt wrong. No matter what Skorsdan did, something in me changed…wanted nothing to do with seeing him suffer. I couldn’t exactly trace the shift in opinion, but somewhere near its core lay Sally.

  “No,” I said. My voice was ragged and dry. I coughed and gagged. Sally was immediately at my side with a glass of water. After a long drink, I continued. “It was all a mistake. Skorsdan was only acting to defend his pride.”

  Gorman looked down at me with sullen eyes. “Skorsdan used forbidden powers. That alone carries enough weight to send him to a solitary confinement for decades.”

  “But I did the same thing. Why am I not being punished?”

  “You were unaware of the law at the time.”

  “That’s no excuse, Mr. Gaultier. Was Skorsdan aware of this law? Could it be possible this law was so ancient it’s no longer a part of common knowledge? Please, Gorman, give Skorsdan another chance. I am the one he nearly killed and yet I decided to give back his life. Can’t you do the same?”

  Gorman bowed his head.

  “I can’t believe I’m about to say this…but…he did this all out of love for your daughter. When I was…dying…I saw visions, some of which I can’t explain. But I know this, you’ve been in love before, and you’ve done things for love that you wouldn’t have done otherwise…haven’t you?”

  “One time and one time only I fell deeply and madly in love. She didn’t love me at first – no matter what I did to impress her. So, yes, I did things…things I wouldn’t have done, had I not been so desperate for her to love me.”