by H. D. Gordon
“I love you, Sam,” I said.
And then I was running toward the Beast, leaping off the metal beneath my feet, and tackling it with every bit of Halfling power I possessed.
***
Slamming into the Beast felt very much like throwing myself into a brick wall, but I committed to the move wholeheartedly, wrapping my arms about it as much as I was able and using my forward motion to propel me.
I surprised it with this move, and it didn’t have time to react, to maintain its balance, and we both went tumbling into open air. We fell together, me holding onto the creature and it flapping its arms as if it hoped to sprout wings and fly away.
It seemed we fell for an eternity. Sam screamed unintelligibly in my ear as the night rushed by around me. The lights of the city and the stars above turned into a view of the black, churning water of the bay, and back again as we twisted and fell, twisted and fell. I would learn later that the drop was over two hundred feet.
So you can imagine that hitting the surface of the water felt even worse than tackling the Beast had felt. We made impact that knocked all the wind out of me, a slapping sound that made my ears ring. It felt as though my entire body had been clapped without mercy between the rough, unforgiving hands of some angry immortal, the cold temperature of the water a cherry on top of the pie.
Suddenly, I could see nothing, hear nothing. I was floating in a darkness so complete that I didn’t know which way was up and which way was down. The need to breathe was immediate, the screaming of my lungs intense.
I told myself to relax, calling on the training I’d received with the Brokers to retain some semblance of coherent thought, but doing so proved impossible. I couldn’t help but panic as I flailed in the freezing water, half expecting the enormous bridge to come crashing down any minute and sink me to my death.
Something was clawing at me, and I realized with a jolt that it was the Beast. I’d no doubt surprised it with the tackle, and now it was trying to drag me under with it. I fought. I kicked my legs and paddled my arms, but still didn’t break the surface.
Not for the first time in my life, I was sure I was going to die. And not for the first time, I really didn’t want to.
I punched at the Beast, but when I realized that wasn’t working, I tried to calm it with a serenity I in no way felt. Against all odds, this seemed to work, and the Beast stopped flailing long enough to let me wrap my arms around it and float us both to the surface.
When I broke through the water, it felt like being born. I sucked at the air as though it was the sweetest in all the lands, and in that moment, it was. My lungs ached and burned, and I tilted my head back to keep my mouth out of the water. Breathing occupied me so much that it took me several moments to realize that the thing floating beside me was no longer a big blue beast… but rather a child, and if his aura was any indication, he was a Halfling.
Seemed the epinephrine shot had done its job.
Spotlights roamed over the water, coming so near to us that I ducked back under the surface for a minute to hide us. When I came back up again, I saw that the Halfling child was no longer breathing.
With a hitch in my heart, I wrapped my arms more tightly around him and began to swim toward the shore.
***
In all of the commotion, my mask had slipped off my face, so making it to somewhere hidden without being captured by the spotlights and news cameras hovering in the helicopters above took priority, second only to not drowning.
It was difficult to get to the shoreline with one arm wrapped around the child and the other tired enough to fall off, but somehow, after what seemed a terribly long time, I made it to one of the sewer entrances. It was a large cylinder constructed of concrete, and a metal grate separated it from the lapping water, but it would have to do.
I pulled myself and the child out of the water, minding the slippery jetty rocks and collapsing to the ground for all of two heartbeats before the probing lights from the choppers had me scrambling to my feet once more. I considered the thick metal of the grates before gripping one of the bars with both hands and yanking with all the strength I had left.
To my relief, the bar bent outward before coming loose, and I tossed it to the side so that I could hoist the child up into my arms and squeeze us both under the cover of the cylinder. Once inside, I immediately began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
It felt surreal, sitting there soaking wet, freezing, shivering, exhausted, with the unconscious body of a Halfling child who just moments ago had been a raging blue beast, laid out on the concrete before me. I tilted his head back and gave him air, pumped his chest, repeated.
I don’t know how long this went on for, but at some point, tears began to streak down my face, and the air in my lungs began to hitch. I kept pumping, kept breathing, but the child’s eyes didn’t open, his heart did not resume a beat.
It was Thomas who found me. I didn’t know what time it was, but I knew that he’d used some sort of GPS to locate me, and it was a good thing he did. Otherwise, I may have just continued sitting there, dead body across my lap, until I died from dehydration and sorrow.
It was long enough that I’d memorized the lines and features of the child’s face, had stroked my fingers through his wiry, wet black hair, had wondered about his name, his origins. It was long enough that my clothes began to grow stiff and scratchy with the drying salt water, that any color that had belonged to the child’s skin had leaked away and left nothing but dead white.
I don’t know what I must have looked like to Thomas when he found me, but whatever my appearance, he approached with the cautious wary of someone encountering a wild animal, as though I might just jump up and bite him. His dark aura, however, showed only concern.
Fresh tears filled my eyes as he entered the concrete cylinder we were tucked in, his wide form blocking out the view beyond. He looked down at the child and back up at me, and slowly, he moved to crouch before me.
He was still wearing his black and gray camo, but the mask he’d discarded, and his dark hair stood out on the top of his head, his hazel eyes intense.
“Aria,” Thomas said, “It’s okay.”
This broke my floodgates. Thomas gently removed my hold from the child, setting his body respectfully to the side before pulling me into his strong arms and holding me close. I cried into his shoulder silently, the tears streaming down my cheeks and catching on the fabric of his shirt. He just kept hold of me, repeating those two words over and over, as if whispering a magic spell.
It’s okay. It’s okay. It’s okay…
At some point, he stood and scooped me up into his arms, but I struggled against him. He held fast, and met my panicked gaze. “I’ll come back for the child,” he told me in his soft, deep voice. “We’ll give him a proper burial.”
Satisfied as much as one could be under the conditions, I allowed him to carry me out of there. I fell asleep in his arms only moments later, the face of the deceased Halfling child following me into my dreams.
***
I was in my own bed when I came to. I bolted upright, my heart racing, not remembering how I had gotten there. Terrific pain shot through my midsection and had me flailing back, groaning with the agony.
Sam was at my side in a flash, fluttering her hands about like a mother hen. “You’re awake!” she said, thrusting some painkillers into my hand along with a glass of water.
I accepted them both without argument, popping the pills at once. After a few more long swigs that did nothing to ease the burning in my throat, I felt I could form words again. I thanked Sam, trying to grasp at all the events that had taken place before I’d fallen asleep, slowly collapsing on the inside as they came back to me.
Matt was there as well, and so was Thomas. All three of them hovered around the edges of my bed, their faces filled with a sympathy I didn’t feel like I deserved.
“The bridge?” I asked.
“It’s closed for now,” Matt answered. “But you stopped it from coming d
own.” He paused. “You saved a lot of people.”
“Andrea and Raven?” I asked.
Sam sighed. “They’re fine. Shaken up, but fine.”
I looked at Thomas. “How are you?”
One side of his mouth tilted up, as if this were a cute question. “I’m fine, Aria.”
I nodded, feeling tears burning my eyes again and not wanting to let them free. Suddenly, I wanted them all to leave. I wanted to be alone. I appreciated that the three of them cared enough about me to be here every time I awoke from a blackout, but I didn’t want them to see the breakdown that was threatening.
There are some things a girl just needs to do in private.
Sam, angel that she was, somehow sensed this, and she ushered Thomas and Matt from the apartment. Before leaving as well, she looked back at me. Standing in the doorway, her black-rimmed glasses perched on her nose and her strawberry-blonde hair disheveled after an endless night, she gave me her pretty smile.
“We’re here for you, Aria,” she said. “And we’re not going anywhere.”
Then she shut the door behind her and left me to my despair.
CHAPTER 41
The coffee shop was abuzz with patrons. The smell of roasting coffee beans and warm milk filled the air, the air conditioning a blessing with the heat that was already beginning to swell in Grant City. The Grant City Bridge had been reopened, and the Blue Beast was but a memory to most everyone who called the city home.
Most everyone, but not me.
I felt changed in a way that could not be undone. I wasn’t sure what had done it exactly, or if it was a combination of things, but at some point, I had crossed over the threshold that separated my childhood from adulthood, and that is a line that cannot be retreaded. I wondered if that was the way all real change happened, sudden and irrevocably, or if that was just the way it happened for me.
When Vivian Night entered the Grind on that late spring, sunny afternoon, she took one look at me and must have seen it, because it showed in her aura. Her dark eyes were penetrating, her skin slathered with the most potent of sunblock, a dark umbrella hanging at her side. She took the seat across from me and studied me a moment before speaking.
“How are you?” she asked.
I took a sip of my hot chocolate and smiled. “I’m alive,” I said.
Her dark gaze traveled over me. “I see that.” She paused. “And you did good, stopped the Blue Beast from bringing down the bridge.”
“You heard about that, huh?”
Vivian gave a short laugh. “Everyone heard about that. You saved a lot of lives.”
The images of Brian Brewbaker and the Halfling boy whose name I’d never know passed through my head as they were wont to do at the most inconvenient of times. “That’s what they keep telling me.”
Vivian tried to be optimistic. “You should be pleased to know the superiors are opening the case you wanted.” Her voice was low enough for only me to hear. “We’re going to investigate the Cross Corporation, look into the kidnappings, the Halflings you saw in that lab.” Surprising us both, she reached across the table and placed her cold hand over mine. “We’re going to get to the bottom of it, Aria.”
Sighing, I nodded. “That’s good.”
“And we wouldn’t even know about it if it weren’t for you,” Vivian added. “You’re not even a Peace Broker anymore and you may have incited one of the biggest investigations in modern history. You should be proud of that.”
I chewed at my lip. “I should,” I agreed.
“But you’re not.” It wasn’t a question.
“I’m just doing the best I can,” I answered.
Vivian nodded. She went to stand, but paused and bent back down over the table so that she could look me in the eyes. “The best you can is damn good, soldier,” she told me. “When the superiors let you go, they made a big mistake.”
Despite the good news of the superiors finally taking my claims seriously and agreeing to investigate, it was this last compliment from Halfling Vampire Vivian Night that would carry me through many of the days ahead.
She’d said I’d done good. But it was not over yet. Not by a long shot.
***
“I look stupid in this thing,” I said.
Sam rolled her eyes, snapped what seemed like the millionth photo, and grinned. “You say that every time you have to wear something other than jeans and a t-shirt.”
I considered this. “That’s not true. I don’t say that when I wear sweatpants and a t-shirt.” I adjusted the cap on my head. “This is going to make my hair go flat.”
Sam raised an eyebrow, eyeing my wild mane of reddish-brown hair. “I doubt it. Now, hold still. I want one more.” She snapped the photo and finally pocketed the phone she’d taken it with. “There. Now let’s get a move on before you’re late to your own high school graduation.”
Twenty minutes later, I was lined up with the rest of the Grant City High seniors, caps and gowns and smiles on the faces of everyone present. The graduation was being held at the performing arts theater down town, and as I peeked out from behind the stage, I saw that the auditorium was packed with people in suits and dresses, carrying flowers and balloons, snapping endless photos.
The orchestra sprang to life, their melodic playing filling the room, and I followed the procession in front of me to the rows of chairs that were designated for graduates. We sat through the speeches of various administrators and the valedictorian. Each said something along the lines of following dreams and wonderful memories and how our journeys had just begun.
When the superintendent referenced all the craziness that had been going on in Grant City in the past year, and called the Masked Maiden a hero, I had to swallow hard and look down at my hands. That word had been thrown around a lot lately, and I wondered if I would ever stop grieving over what had gone down on that bridge. I wondered if hero was just another word for fool.
Before I knew it, it was time to walk across the stage and receive my diploma. I stood along with my row and made my way up to the stage. As names were called, various people in the audience stood and cheered for their graduating loved one, and my heart gave a squeeze at the thought that my mother couldn’t be here to see this. I told myself that she would have been proud.
When the principal called my name, I took a deep breath and shook the hands of the educators lined up beside him. At last, I was handed my diploma, my name scrawled across the paper in fancy letters, framed in a leather case. Principal Baxter gave my hand a firm shake and patted me on the back as I moved by.
“I knew you had it in you,” he told me, and then he was turning toward the next graduate to offer more congratulations.
As I crossed the stage, I saw Sam sitting in the crowd along with Matt and Thomas, all three of them clapping and cheering, waving and smiling. My heart hurt a little to see that Caleb had not come. I’d texted and called him several times since that day he’d stormed out of my apartment, but had gotten no response. I supposed I deserved it, even more so now that the Peace Brokers were going to be investigating his father’s company, but I’d considered Caleb Cross a good friend, and I felt the loss of him.
Thomas had somewhere to be after the ceremony, so Matt and Sam took me out for pizza. I ate a whole meat lover’s pie by myself, and Matt chanted as I followed that with a liter of cola. When we got back to the lair, I found a cake waiting for me, along with balloons.
Stupidly, the sight of these made my throat get tight and my eyes a little teary. I swallowed and turned toward my friends. “I love you guys,” I said, and meant it very much.
Sam pulled me into a hug, and Matt added himself to the mix, wrapping his long arms around the both of us. “We love you too,” Sam said.
“And we’re very proud of you,” Matt added.
When we parted, I went over to the cake. It had my name scrawled over the surface with congratulations on top. “Can I eat this whole thing?” I asked.
“It’s yours,” Matt said, and we
nt over to where another box was waiting on a table. “I actually bought a smaller one so that Sam and I could share.”
I couldn’t help a smile at this, and it hit me in that moment that this was how one healed—moment by moment, and with the smallest of blessings. “I ever tell you you’re a genius, Matthew Brown?”
“I’ve heard it a time or two before,” he replied.
We pulled up chairs and I set myself on the worthy task of getting all that icing and cake into my belly. Sam brought over her laptop and set it on the table between us, pride dancing through her aura.
“That isn’t all,” she said. “There’s another gift waiting for you, Aria Fae.” She checked her watch. “And it should be happening right now.”
She turned the screen of the laptop toward me and made the video that was playing full screen. Then she and Matt scooted their chairs over next to me so that we could watch whatever it was together.
When City Hall came into focus, complete with the mayor of Grant City approaching a podium filled with microphones, I felt my shoulders fall. A little sign in the corner of the screen let me know that this was a live broadcast, and I tried to word my response softly so as not to offend Sam.
“Sam, I don’t feel like—” I began, but Sam cut me off with a shake of her head.
“Just listen, okay?”
Sighing, I scooped some cake into my mouth and concentrated on its sugary deliciousness. I could tell Sam was excited, and I didn’t want to be a killjoy, but I just wasn’t in the mood to hear whatever Mayor Briggs had to say. I was done with media and politics for as long as I could manage.
But when Samantha Shy wanted something, one was hard pressed to deny her, so I sat silently as I shoveled cake into my face.
Mayor Barbara Briggs was a middle-aged African American lady with a serious face and trust-worthy demeanor, she called the press present to silence, the flash of camera bulbs not even making her blink.
“Citizens of Grant City,” she began. “I want to first offer my condolences to all the people who lost loved ones in the recent terrible events that have plagued our city. In the past half-year there have been murders, kidnappings, and terror induced by a creature none of us even knew existed. Our whole world has changed right before our eyes, and the way things once were, is no longer how they are.”
