97 (Rise of the Battle Bred)

by V. L. Holt

  He relaxed back into his chair and looked out at the phenomenal view from his penthouse apartment. He sighed loudly, as if tired from it all. He watched Zeko out of the corner of his eye and saw him assume a more interested posture. He was buying it.

  He turned to look at Zeko again. “Where do you think our energies should be focused, if not on getting information from the Marine?” He had to play hard to get.

  Zeko leaned forward in his chair, his drink forgotten. “The Greek Fire! Zyrick isn’t applying himself. We could get so much more done if he had proper motivation! And think of the damage we could cause the Warriors! We could wipe them out once and for all. Then we could unleash the Lochspawn to take over the governments. It’ll be just like the old days; we’ll no longer have to hide our abilities, but rather rule and reign over the entire planet. Think on it, Zarastrid!” Zeko spoke with such fervor, that Zarastrid almost forgot what was likely motivating him to such a performance. He allowed himself to appear intrigued.

  “What of your indolent lifestyle, Zeko? Have you forgotten your love of all things extravagant? Ruling over 7 billion subjects is no walk in the park,” He said.

  Zeko looked duly chagrined. “You’re right, of course, Zarastrid. I would have to give up some things,” He looked up at him out of lowered lashes.

  Zarastrid thought Zeko should have pursued acting; he was living in Los Angeles after all. He nodded slowly. “I will see about encouraging Zyrick to be timelier in his research. The Fire could be just the thing to return us to our former glory,” He watched as Zeko visibly released whatever tension had been in his shoulders. He looked more relaxed than he ever had done in the centuries he’d known him since his Culling.

  Zeko stood. “Very good. Very good. And about the Marine, should I just…” he trailed off, not caring what he commanded concerning him now. Very interesting.

  “I suppose we must dispose of him somehow, since we no longer need him. Let me think about it, Zeko,” He said smoothly.

  Zeko was appeased, and it showed. One more thing…”and Zeko?” He looked at Zarastrid expectantly. “I’m going to need another driver.”

  Zeko winced but nodded and left soon after, prattling about united world governments and other such tripe.

  Upon closure of the door, Zarastrid went to his phone. He dialed a number.

  “A slight change in plans. Put a little pressure on Zyrick. Send for Zimini. We’ll meet in two weeks’ time. Report when you’ve done it,” He hung up the phone and thought of the Marine. Zeko didn’t even realize how he’d given himself away. Prior to tonight, he hadn’t even suspected. Now it all became so much clearer.

  Zarastrid supposed he must pay a little visit to the Marine now, sooner than he’d planned.

  42

  Xex

  Xex felt like a new beast. Another couple days of rest, and he had felt bones reknit, muscles heal, and the kinks in his neck stretch out. He wasn’t discouraged by the failure at the children’s play construct. It was simply a matter of poor timing. He couldn’t expect perfection from himself just yet; he was an infant in terms of sentience.

  He would get his revenge on the two Warriors who had killed his mate. And then he would get his other colleagues to join him in a massive revolt against their creators. He imagined that if they were also being reborn, they too would chafe against being used as the Warlochs’ pawns in their quest for power.

  But he was getting ahead of himself. He had a murder to perpetrate. He was getting familiar with the female companion of the young Warrior. When his attempt at killing the boy and using the young William as the supposed murderer had failed, he had immediately devised a new plan. All it required was getting the female companion alone, committing the murder, and leaving the identifying material in place. He’d secured some fibers from the Warriors’ clothing in their battle at Toledo.

  William must have suspected something, because he stood guard at the perimeter of the female’s dwelling every night since Xex’s first attack.

  Xex paced in the darkness by a human building. His nerves were frayed as he spied the numerous vehicles arriving and parking around the Warriors’ abode. He would need to act soon if he was going to succeed. His talons scraped ever so quietly against the cement beneath his feet. Otherwise he made no sound. He lifted his snout to test the air. He caught whiffs of the Warrior men, and other tantalizing smells. They smelled much like the Warriors, only more varied and layered. As if there were dozens of Warriors, and not just the two. Xex peered through the darkness at the several vehicles placed in a close proximity to the Warriors’ home. Several Warriors.

  Thoughts multiplied in Xex’s newly developing intellect. What a coup he could claim if he was responsible for several Warrior deaths in one blow? He wondered how accurate Zainel was when he claimed that the old incantations didn’t work for new assignments. He wasn’t even on an assignment. He was his own entity, now. Making his own choices, forming his own reasons for existing. He could attempt a surprise attack. He would doubtless lose a life or two, but a successful incantation could potentially take out a roomful of Warriors.

  Xex fought within himself. Glory and laud from the Warlochs? Perhaps a place of honor and leadership among their governors? Did he care enough to get such adulation from those he resented?

  Or would he rather murder a pathetic female child in order to avenge the death of his mate, who hadn’t actually achieved sentience yet, and had the intelligence and temperament of a loyal canine?

  He was poised to fly and attack the home in a vicious surprise, when out of the corner of his eye; he spied the female leaving her dwelling, wearing light-colored clothing that glowed in the darkness around her.

  Xex didn’t believe in gods other than the creators. But if he did, he would think they were helping him to make a certain decision right now. With the snick of his stone-like talons on cement, he raised his granite girth in the air, and gave chase to the female who ran swiftly in the opposite direction of the house full of Warriors.

  43

  William

  William frowned, even in the midst of riotous laughter surrounding him. He kept looking at his phone, waiting to hear from Jane. He’d gotten her number when he collected her phone after the attack at the park, and maybe snooped a little on her phone too, checking out her playlist and book collection. He’d found a list she was making of ‘Mom-isms’, something to do with old phrases. Also, he wasn’t proud of himself, but it had given him a particular thrill to see her text messages to Crady talking about having a crush on him.

  The historic gathering of Warriors should have been uppermost in his mind, but he couldn’t shake the feeling that Jane was upset, possibly at him. What had he done? He replayed the scene at the field over and over in his mind, feeling like maybe he’d been a jerk, or worse, a borderline psychopath. What had possessed him to show her that place and tell her something she couldn’t possibly believe?

  He looked around at the gathering in his living room. He’d never seen his father as carefree as he looked right now. Jacob regaled the visitors with tales from their travels, and introduced newcomers all around. Cans of pop were pouring freely, and Warriors of all ages sat next to each other and shyly exchanged names and contact information.

  Eventually, Jacob called everyone to order. “This is, indeed, a pivotal moment for the Warriors. I have reason to believe that there are more of us yet to arrive. The good people of Deer Fjord have no idea what a special destination their town has become, and I feel we need some kind of cover story. Does anyone have any ideas?” He asked the room in general.

  Someone shouted, “The circus has come to town!” That was met with a lot of laughter and slapping hands.

  Someone else suggested a convention.

  “I like it. What kind of convention?” Jacob asked.

  “How did we all get here? The internet, of course. Let’s call it a computer software convention,” One man said. He was tall and lanky, rather than barrel-chested and tank-built like
William and his father. He had a girl with him, about Mick’s age, William thought, and a boy too, who appeared to be about his own age. Normally he would be pretty jazzed to meet people who’d lived similar lives, but he was preoccupied. He was focusing on his phone screen so intently, he almost didn’t hear it.

  There it was again-the tell-tale scrape of talons on cement. He cursed in his head and looked around. Surely someone else heard it? But as he looked, he realized everyone else was completely enthralled to be together after so many years, they had let their guard down. William felt chagrined to realize he would be guilty of the same if he hadn’t had other things on his mind. He debated telling everyone, but what if he was wrong? What if it was a tree branch against a gutter pipe or something? He would feel like a real jackass.

  He decided to check discreetly. He could pop in on Jane too, and kill two birds with one stone. Ha! Jane might like to add that one to her list of mom-isms.

  He nodded politely to those nearest him and snuck out the back door. He let his eyes adjust to the dark. It was substantially quieter out here, too. He didn’t see anything outright, so decided to check on Jane. He took an easy lope through the back yards and stopped at Jane’s. Her window was dark. It seemed early for her to have gone to bed, but he supposed it was possible. He should just go back.

  He debated, shifting one foot to the other. Maybe he could just knock on her door. He walked around to the front and saw Snoopy panting on the front step. Jane’s pink shimmer was vivid up here, surrounding her dog, shining in long lines from her front door to the sidewalk and down either side of the street. He walked up and squatted down. “Hey boy,” he whispered and scratched his head. Snoopy just panted and licked his jowls. He gave a little whine. William stood, preparing to knock on Jane’s door, when a car pulled up. He looked, thinking it might be another guest of his dad’s, but it was Crady. She scowled at him.

  Getting out of her car, she continued to stare him down. This couldn’t be good, he thought to himself.

  “What’s up?” He asked her. She pranced up to him.

  “You stay away from my friend,” Crady said as she stuck a finger in his chest with every word. She didn’t wait for his response, but rather took Snoopy’s collar and opened the front door. Best friend privileges, he figured, as she just entered without a knock or another look at him.

  He checked his phone again; still no answer. He turned to look down the street, away from the activity at his house and into the darkness. He furrowed his brow. A really bright pink path disappeared into the dark. Had he heard talons? The flap of a large wing?

  Suddenly Jane’s door swung open wildly. Crady shouted at him. “Jane’s not here!”

  “What?” He asked, his voice rising in alarm.

  “She’s not here! If you had anything to do with this, I swear to God I’ll kill you myself!” She shouted. Jane’s mom showed up behind Crady.

  “What are you two shouting about? I’m sure she’ll be back soon. She was just going to walk Snoopy…” her voice trailed off as she realized Snoopy was back under the kitchen table.

  William didn’t need to see any more. He said to Crady, “Stay here in case she comes back,” He really hoped she’d listen to him. He didn’t know why she was so mad. He started running, feeling the blade of his sword generate in its invisible sheath behind his back. He ran towards the darkness, where evil hides so well.

  “Jane,” He said over and over again, remembering her kiss. He followed the bright blur, the trail of lavender and her sweat. He could actually see her footprints, pink light on the sidewalk, starting out close together, then spreading out farther as she strode into a run. He ran like the demons of hell were behind him, though he knew with every bone of his body they weren’t behind him. They were in front.

  44

  I relished the feel of cool September night against my face and neck. I felt glad to have gotten out of my room and away from the oppressive fear that had gripped my heart before. How could I doubt William? He had never shown me anything but tenderness and affection. Crady had to be wrong. There had to be some sort of miscommunication, something.

  I felt the firm ground beneath my feet with every stride, liked the motion of my arms propelling me forward. I wondered how William’s get-together was going. I recalled him saying he and his dad were waiting for ‘reinforcements’. Yeah, I was pretty sure murderers didn’t have great big parties if they were on the lamb.

  The further away I got from my house, the darker it seemed to get. I felt good though, and decided it was time to head back. Without slowing, I turned suddenly and skipped off the curb, intending to run back on the other side of the street. My split-second decision probably saved my life, because as I stepped down, I felt a tremendous whoosh behind me, and something scraped my back. I cried out, and stumbled, and dang it! Just when most of my scrapes and abrasions had finally lost their scabs, I got a whole new crop of scratches on my knees and palms.

  I heard what sounded like…canvas sails flapping in the wind. I turned my head, looked all around, looked up, and that’s when my heart jumped into my throat, preventing the scream from erupting. I sank as low into the pavement of the street as I could, willing it to swallow me up, and maybe it was my imagination, but it seemed like it gave an inch. What a blessed inch it was, because the terrifying phantom dive-bombing me just barely missed me again with its giant talons.

  My eyes must have been as big as bicycle tires by this point. I knew what I was seeing , but my brain couldn’t wrap itself around what I was seeing, and kept telling me I wasn’t seeing what I was. And if I could string a coherent thought together after tonight, then I would count it as good.

  Because I saw red demon eyes blazing into my own, and needle-sharp teeth and a disgusting cat-dry tongue lolling out and caressing lips that looked like they were made of stone. The head looked leonine, the wings looked like the thrift-store version of Batman’s and I was going to die. Tonight, in the middle of the dang road, about ready to pee my pants, and only getting to experience one truly wonderful kiss.

  I think I started to whimper; the scream still couldn’t get past my heart which felt like it was beating wildly in my throat. The thing, this must be the Lochspawn, hovered above me grasping its claws open and closed, as if deciding where it wanted to strike first.

  As it stared me down, I thought I heard my name being called. I dared not look away; something about this vile creature of death made me want to see it…the moment it took my life. I did not want-no-I could not look away.

  Suddenly, with a violent upstroke of its wings, it lifted a little further away from me. A dark blur entered my field of vision. I saw a flash of steel. The lonely street light several feet away made a feeble attempt at lighting this section of the road. In the barest of light, I made out the features of a grim reaper of death.

  William!

  My scream finally made its way out of my body, and apparently giving it time to fester gave it more body than I knew it would have. I screamed like the very powers of hell were trying to subdue me, and in fact, they had been. But William!

  He didn’t look at me. He thrust and parried, hacking at talons, grunting with each blow, fending off the claw at the end of a wing, ducking and rolling under the slashing bite of those nasty teeth. He was my living breathing hero, my knight in shining Old Navy, my savior.

  I found myself crab-crawling away slowly, trying not to draw attention to myself, never allowing my gaze to waver from the hellish scene of violence before me. I urged every effort of William’s to succeed and every thrash from the Lochspawn to miss. I can’t say that my will was enough to influence anything, but it didn’t stop me from trying.

  Blood spilled; grunts chuffed out; metal peeled against stone. Every once in a while, something shiny and sharp would come winging out of William’s free hand, and fly toward the mouth of the beast. Its maw would snatch at it, either deflecting it away, or biting it into pieces. Then at other times, the great gargoyle would move its mouth
as if to speak, and a faint blue flame began to emit from its throat. Again and again, the flame would start, but William would throw the metal star at its mouth. Still, he was parrying blows with his sword that shone like an asteroid in the night.

  They fought each other powerfully, and though the violence rang in my ears, yet William didn’t seem winded. Nor did the beast tire out, and I wondered how long this could possibly endure.

  I thought I should run, hide, close my eyes and pretend I wasn’t witnessing this horror, but I felt paralyzed by the scene. My mind flicked to Mick, under attack by this creature, and still able to call me and talk. I felt completely useless, barely managing to get myself to the opposite curb and cower behind a tipped trash can.

  I found myself chanting William over and over again, heedless of the tears streaming down the sides of my face.

  The creature became more ferocious, and changed its tactic, coming at William from a different angle. The change threw William off guard for a moment, and that was all it took. I saw the blue flames swirling out of the mouth of the Lochspawn, mesmerized by the mysterious beauty coupled with their horrible potential. I saw the flames’ slow dance turn into a shooting pillar of flame and screamed, afraid of what it might mean to William. Without thinking, I picked up the empty trash can and hurled it at the beast with all my strength.

  Plastic versus stone goliath…I felt impotent, but it was just the distraction William needed, and he threw another of his shiny metal stars at the beast’s mouth. The blue flame stopped, and I collapsed on the street, grateful but unsure why.

  The beast gave a mighty roar of frustration, aimed its bloody stare at me, but swiped out with a lunge across William’s chest, tearing open his flesh in three great stripes.

  William’s blood gushed out in a fall, and I screamed again, but this time it was the roar of Niagara Falls; it was Mount Vesuvius, it was the collapse of the World Trade Centers and I couldn’t stop. Even as William collapsed to the ground and the Lochspawn turned its bloodied talons towards me, I couldn’t stop and my rage and grief and fear gave me a courage I didn’t know I possessed.