“First off, this is worth more than one favor. Second, and this is important, do you mean a literal minute, or is that just a guess?”
“Honestly, I just think that’s what you are capable of,” Izzy replied, causing Roux to look over at her and grimace.
“Your moral support is crap, Izzy,” he huffed as the doppel came together, now standing almost three times taller. It leered down at them and bellowed with a mix of enraged roar and foul gurgling.
“Oh, how frightening. Helpful that we are in a forest.” Roux jerked his hand to the side, the strings slicing cleanly through the base of a large tree. Then they wrapped around the top of the tree and Roux swung his hand down, the titanic tree slamming down on top of the creature.
It raised its hand to catch the falling redwood, but Roux’s strings snaked their way around its shoulders and cinched together to slice it apart. Roux observed that its arms tried to reattach, but it was too late; the tree fell on it with a thunderous crash. Roux chuckled as he slid his gloved hand back into his pocket.
“Humph, timber!” He looked back at the pair. “You got your minute!”
“Someone definitely heard that. All right, time to quit pussyfooting.” Izzy looked to Sylas, “Listen to me, please. This has probably been a hell of a lot to take today, so it shouldn’t be too much to add a few more things,” she proclaimed, causing Sylas to narrow his eyes and chuckle.
“Roux’s right, your moral support is crap.”
“Glad to get your seal of approval, but I need you to draw that sword,” she said pointing to it. “Like I said, it was your dad’s, and his dad’s; it goes back for a while, really. It will kill that thing, but you are the only one who can use it.” She looked back to see the dark being start to slither its way out from underneath the tree. “I don’t have time to explain why, but I believed—”
“I get it.” Sylas acknowledged, bringing the blade close to his chest and placing his right hand on the hilt. “You’re right, it’s been a strange day. But right now all I want is to see that thing dead. And if this will do it...” He gripped the blade and in one smooth motion, slid it out from its sheath, “…then let me make this quick!” As the saber was unveiled a blinding light burst from it, causing Izzy to shield her eyes.
The doppel looked over and with a roar, took its original form and leapt at Sylas. Roux cast his strings forward to try and bind it, but it simply drifted through them. Izzy recovered and tried to make another barrier, but one of the doppel’s elongated arms crashed into her, stopping her attempt and crushing her against a tree.
The arms once reshaped themselves into fine points. The monster let out a furious yell and attacked both sharp points barreling towards Sylas. Both Roux and Izzy cried out for him to move, run, anything to get away, but as the monster disappeared into the white light, they heard a sharp noise and then beast made an unholy, pained sound.
The light dissipated and the doppel stood there looking down at its two missing arms. They would not grow back. Next to him stood Sylas, saber by his side. It no longer looked worn. It shimmered in the dusky light of the forest, its blade no longer rusted or even metallic, but looking as if it were etched from a mirror.
Sylas walked towards the creature, which looked up at him with its eye— usually unnaturally stoic—twisted in what looked like rage, or possibly an emotion no one knew it could have—fear. Sylas tightened his grip and pointed the saber at it, and with a slowly forming smile addressed it. “So, care to try again?”
CHAPTER FOUR
The doppel fell over, retching and shivering. Small points of its body would come forth only to sink back in, like it was trying to create new appendages but nothing would solidify. Sylas observed as the arms he had severed from the fiend melted into the earth; they changed to a thin liquid and sank below the surface.
He examined his sword. It was oddly regal now, shining in the last vestiges of sunlight. All the formerly damaged pieces now seemed to have been replaced by new parts, as if they were freshly repaired and coated. What surprised him the most was the blade itself. It was curved like a saber, sharp along the outside edge to the tip, but unlike the blunt-tipped foils he had used in school, the point was cut diagonally across—almost like a razor. Its oddest trait was that it seemed to be made of glass, or more specifically, from a mirror. He could see himself and the forest behind him clearly.
Then something caught his eye.
He could see, though only briefly, lines and twisting patterns of white course through the blade, running from tip to hilt. As he contemplated, he realized that he himself felt different. He was no longer exhausted, and any pain he had from before had seemingly evaporated. He felt light, and observed his surroundings with much more focus and clarity than ever. It was as if he had just left an ebon cave that he had lived in for years, only to finally feel the fresh air and the openness of the wild once again.
“Sevanouir looks good on you.” Izzy rasped. Sylas slightly turned his blade to see her in its reflection. She stood up, brushing bits of dirt and wood chips off her. “I also like the new hair color! Very pretty, Snowflake.”
Sylas looked at her quizzically before glancing at his reflection. His eyes widened in surprise to see his formerly dark hair a silvery-white. It contrasted with his darker skin and hazel eyes nicely and gave him a rather enchanted, Ethereal look.
“I’m going to assume you’ll explain the hair, along with this whole clusterfuck of things later. But for now, just cool it with the jokes, Tinkerbell,” he replied as he looked back at Izzy and grinned.
“Let me deal with the sludge, and we’ll get to that,” She promised.
Sylas raised his saber and took a practiced pose, saber arm slightly extended and free hand raised behind him.
The doppel growled and backed away. Sylas couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. The very thing that they had been running from, that attacked him in the study and almost killed him, was now wary of him. He nodded to Roux on his far side and asked, “Hey, Roux, you all right with me having a dance with this thing?”
Roux almost snorted as he ruffled his crimson hair, “I ain’t dying to try that thing again. Plus, it tries to lead too much.” He slid his hands back into his pockets, “I’d like to see what you can do with that sword anyhow.”
“It’s a saber! Show some class,” Sylas muttered as he inched closer to the doppel, who began to circle in response, “Though I agree, I would like to know what I can do with it as well.” He recalled the moment he took out the blade from its sheath, when the monster attacked. He had years of training in fencing from his days at the academy, but even he was astonished at how quickly he countered the beast; slicing from what appeared to be its elbows down. The arms flew by his head and the beast jumped back. He was good, but he wasn’t that good, at least not before.
The doppel contorted itself slightly, seeming to regain control. It wasn’t replacing its missing limbs, but it wasn’t writhing in pain anymore either. Sylas felt he should correct that. This time, Sylas aimed for the head as he leapt towards it. The beast attempted to dodge, but Sylas quickly grounded himself, able to stop his momentum to redirect his strike, and caught the doppel across its upper chest. It shrieked and hopped back, thrashing in pain. Sylas saw the opportunity and took it. He was lunging forward to pierce its head and end the miserable thing when he heard Roux cry out.
“Sy, get back!”
Sylas’ eyes darted to his friend briefly; from the doppel he could hear the same mocking laughter as before. He tried to stop himself short of the creature, but it was too late. There were several long, whip-like tentacles connected to the base of the creature’s spine. They had lashed out and just before they struck, he could see sharp objects form on the ends.
Sylas leaned back and tried to dodge and parry the spears, quickly moving to and fro to escape their reach and slashing at any he could connect with. With each lopped whip the doppel yelled, but it continued to strike faster and faster. Sylas could hear the whistling so
und the pointed barbs made as went for vital points like his throat and heart.
He tried to gain some distance, hopping back when he got the chance and trying to circle around his enemy, but the doppel pushed ahead with newfound grit. As Sylas cleaved through more and more of the murderous spears, he saw the whips spread further apart, trying to flank or entrap him between them. He drifted back, purposefully closing his stance; he hoped the savage, shadowy being would take the bait. Then, the remaining half-dozen or so whips advanced on him, spreading out and coming from all directions, punishing him in his tightened defensive stance.
Then he saw an opportunity. He burst forth just as the tips would have skewered him, and they collided with one another. He dashed to his target, now vulnerable once more, and prepared to run it through. The doppel croaked as it opened its fang-filled jaws, another sharp barb shooting out of its gullet. Sylas could hear the others cry out, but he knew there was no time to withdraw. He could hear the now-familiar zipping noise Roux’s strings made as they flew, but they wouldn’t reach him in time. Sylas planted his feet and thrust his saber at the beast, deliberately missing the oncoming strike in favor of the kill. This would hurt, no doubt, but he would end this.
He saw the tip of the spear in front of his right eye. He knew he could complete the strike; this would end here, one way or the other. The spear connected; Sylas inhaled sharply, waiting for the full force to pierce his eye and perhaps his head, but nothing came. He could feel searing pain though; the spear had touched him but had stopped dead.
Roux’s strings wrapped around his torso and he was pulled from his spot. He fell backwards and tried to look up, but his vision was blurry and red. However, he heard no further sound from the doppel. Roux knelt and lifted him up, then slung one of Sylas’ arms over his shoulder, as Izzy walked over to them. They all stared at the doppel.
It was utterly still—no sound, no movement. No droplets fell from its body. Sylas’ saber had pierced its upper chest and then followed through into the head, changing course as Sylas had stepped back to try and dodge the barb that had stabbed his eye. Then, all at once, the body slumped to the ground. It lost its form the moment it hit and turned into the same watery liquid its arms had when Sylas had sliced them off.
They could see a few rotted bones, human and animal, in the remains. Izzy walked over and stirred the bones, picking up what appeared to be a few round, blackened pebbles, which caused her to grimace. She used her foot to pile the bones back together, then removed something from her back pocket. She doused the pile with some sort of dust and waved her gauntlet over it; it blazed into a large violet conflagration that almost as quickly dissipated. The forest finally fell silent.
Roux felt his side start to tremble. He looked over at his wiry companion, who was laughing to himself.
Sylas glanced at him, then looked over to the place where the doppel had been and said, “Got ya.”
Then he let out one long breath and fell over, almost taking Roux along with him, before unceremoniously letting him go. Roux watched him as Izzy walked up.
“You know, if he didn’t, I probably would have at some point. Guess everything finally caught up to him. Plus, getting stabbed in the eye is quite a shock, I’m sure. No offense,” he jibed, looking over Sylas’ exhausted form. “Gotta say, I this job has made me cynical. I’ve seen so much weird shit that mild surprise is usually the best I can muster.”
He ran a hand through his hair before shaking it out, “Guess I just didn’t expect this much, you know, with everything he did today: didn’t even flinch when a doppel transformed in front of his face, tapped into his Ether subconsciously, then used Quintessence with aplomb.” He let out an impressed whistle. “I’ve known him since he was a kid. Knew he was tough, but this? You would’ve thought his pops trained him himself.”
Izzy shrugged, her gauntlet fading into nothing. “He tried his best to hide it all from him, but I don’t think he was optimistic enough, or foolish enough, not to prepare him in his own way.”
She looked around. It was dark enough now for them to move out without too much trouble. “Let’s go to Raines’ house. We’ll try our best to fix that eye of his, and then let him get some rest.” She grabbed Sylas under his left arm and motioned for Roux to do the same for his right.
“Try to show some hustle, Val. I’d rather not have to deal with any park rangers or officials if they come to investigate your little battle back there.”
“You asked for a distraction, and I distracted,” he huffed as he slid Sylas’ arm around his shoulder. “Besides, what would you have had me do? It decided to go super-size on me!”
“I thought subtlety was your specialty?” she challenged, amused. They began to move; first slowly, then their speed increased till the forest became indistinct around them.
“Only in shadows and hearts, dear, not on the battleground,” he retorted.
CHAPTER FIVE
Zachary Bay was incredibly close to falling asleep. The picture on his small monitor had remained unchanged for almost four hours, and he had been sitting on his ass for eight. After the main shipping crew left for the night, almost nothing happened on his side of the dock. He had been able to trade positions with his pal Billy. He grew frustrated with all the paperwork and bureaucracy of security over at the cargo hold, so he filed for a switch to Night Watchman in shipping. Little did he realize that he would still be in a frustrating position, this time due to boredom rather than statistics.
Damn near nothing happened here. He called in to check with the rest of the night crew and watched the nearly-always-blank monitors; easy money, sure, but hardly exciting. The most action he saw was when the occasional vagrant wandered over in a drug daze or a group of kids jumped the fence to get a look around and a cheap thrill. Both could be run off with just a quick flicker of the flashlight and some loud, gruff words; what a way to live life on the edge!
Zach glanced at the corner of the monitor; in a static white hue, it read 12:32 a.m. He was a couple minutes late for check-in, but that was just as much the fault of the knuckleheads he worked with as his own. They should have taken the opportunity to call in and save him the trouble. They had discussed it at the meeting the previous night, but he guessed he took this gig knowing he would end up being the world’s most official-looking babysitter.
He picked up his smart phone, then opened the walkie-talkie app they communicated through and stated roughly, “Boys, this is Bay; check in” He let go of the talk button and crossed his arms, phone wedged against his shoulder. He waited a full minute, but no response was made by any of the eight team members. He should have been confused or worried, but he knew the guys; good men, but jokers. They got just as bored as he did, and he was the “old man” so he was the target of most of their jokes and oddball routines. Should have been amused, but he was in a foul mood and this was just lazy.
The Security Chief slipped his phone into his pocket and grabbed his jacket, throwing it on as he left his office and entered the cool autumn night. His station was only a little over one hundred yards from the warehouse so it was just a quick jog; after he gave the others a half-hearted tongue lashing, he might stick around to shoot the breeze.
He entered the main building, closing the heavy metal door behind him. It was dark; policy was to use minimum lighting after 11 p.m. to save energy, so Zach turned on his flashlight and called out for his men. There was no response. After he inhaled deeply to bellow once again, his voice caught in his throat. There was a sound now; someone was singing, but it didn’t sound like anyone in his crew.
“You made me the damned boy to your lovely girl. Well played, little one.” A low-pitched voice rang out in a mixture of sing-song and humming. “You dragged and dragged me down, until I became the monster I am today.” The large chamber of the warehouse made it difficult for Zach to really follow the voice, but it was getting louder.
“You’ve shattered my heart and fooled me right from the start!” Zach paused as he turned
the corner. He could have sworn he had found the source, but he was just staring at a dead-end. “And though you left me alone, I hope you sleep peacefully forevermore …” Now there was the clicking of shoes on linoleum coming from behind him. “That’s the final prayer of a fool in love…”
The chief turned; standing there in a buttoned-down black shirt, red suit jacket, and shiny leather shoes was the singer. He looked at the security officer with a lazy smile. A white-gloved hand removed a silver cigarette box from his lapel pocket, then took a clove cigarette from inside and placed it on his lips.
Zach grimaced. One hand on his belt, he shined the flashlight on the intruder’s face. The guy didn’t even bother to shield his eyes. “Am I supposed to applaud?” he asked wryly. The singer chuckled and gave a little bow.
“Did you like? I’m certainly no professional, but I like to think I can carry a tune. On beautiful nights like this, the mood just feels right; it captivates me, you understand?” he replied, genuinely sincere. He took a drag from his cigarette, causing Zach to do a double take. When had he lit it? Smoke bellowed from his mouth as he let out an overly dramatic exhale, “My work now is a little different, but I’m used to being around entertainers and artists. Old habits and all that lead me to approach everything with a little flair.”
Zach had already grown to despise this snarky asshole; if this was a friend of one of the other security officers, they would have words. “All right, Mr. Showbiz, you need to go. This is private property, and if you do not leave the premises immediately, I will call the authorities on you.” He could feel sweat on his forehead. How had it gotten so warm suddenly?
The stranger nodded, and with another drag and plume of smoke retorted, “I’m actually here for a pickup, good sir. My shipment came in through unconventional means, so I had to come here personally.”
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