Monster of the Dark

by KT Belt

  Carmen smiled and nodded. “I’m sure we can be friends. I don’t have any friends…not anymore. I’d like to get to know you.”

  Artemis shook her head again. She also smirked before she took another step forward. “I don’t think you understand, Edge. You were right. We do not need to fight. I, however, want to.” She then laughed lightly in a childish way. “And I think we’re going to get to know each other rather well, for however long it lasts.”

  “No, wait!” Carmen yelled, holding her hands out in a feeble attempt to hold her off.

  Artemis shook her head once more. “Do you always talk this much?”

  Carmen paused a moment, surprised by the question. “No, I don’t think so,” she said as she considered her answer.

  “Good,” the girl said slowly.

  She barely heard her, since, as soon as she finished speaking, her fist was rocketing toward her chest. Carmen had fought countless Constructs up to this point. Artemis’s attack was like nothing a Construct could ever muster. There was a snap and velocity to the movement that constricting muscle fibers could never match. It was also very, very precise. The impact point was dead center on Carmen’s heart.

  She remembered when she’d been in this situation before. She remembered how inevitably surreal it all was. Carmen had just been a kid and was fighting for her life against some guy who seemed to be ten times her size. Her legs had felt like they were made out of cement and she’d been too paralyzed to move, until she keeled over, dead. This time, however, she simply turned her shoulders, and Artemis’s fist hit the wall with a soft thud.

  Carmen took a hesitant step out of the way. Artemis gave her an annoyed glance over her still outstretched arm. She would have more luck guessing the fate of the universe by studying grass billowing in the wind than by reading this girl. Nevertheless, it was a pretty fair guess that Artemis hadn’t expected her to move.

  “We can tal—” Carman tried to eke out, but it was in vain.

  Artemis’s outstretched arm soon turned into a well-aimed back fist. Only a block on Carmen’s part prevented it from connecting. Another punch was behind it, but she would have never known it was coming if she wasn’t a Clairvoyant. She’d felt it moving through the air, and it ultimately ended up shaving her cheek. Carmen ended the exchange by stepping in and forcefully pushing Artemis back with one hand.

  “Stop it!” she said.

  Artemis glared at her. “It will be a lot easier for you if you stop fighting back,” she snapped.

  The words stung Carmen more than any punch ever could. As Janus said, she really didn’t have to fight. The decision would ultimately kill her in this case, but there was no power in the universe that could take that choice away from her. She didn’t have much time to contemplate that as Artemis sent a jump kick her way.

  Fine, she thought. She wouldn’t fight. She had other means.

  A mere thought flung Artemis into the nearest wall. Then Carmen held her there. It wasn’t an easy task. She’d never had another Clairvoyant resisting her telekinesis before. It was a strange sensation, like pushing two repulsing magnets together. But she was able to manage it. She gave a satisfied nod over ending the contest before it really got started. Perhaps Janus was right. She didn’t have to fight if she didn’t want to.

  “So, can we talk now?” she asked the girl still pressed against the wall.

  Artemis gritted her teeth as she strained against the invisible force. She didn’t say anything, but all of sudden she looked right at Carmen. Just then, Carmen felt something lifting her off her feet, and she gave a yelp. The fight rooms weren’t very big—a fact she had known far too well whenever her back was pressed against a wall—and now she was flying across the relatively small room at high speed with no way of stopping. The result was inevitable. She hit the wall with a thunderous crash and gasped as the wind was knocked out of her. Her focus on Artemis was broken in that moment, causing the girl to fall to the ground. Carmen didn’t notice. What she did notice, however, was that the force holding her against the wall was now trying to twist her head off.

  Carmen screamed again, but whereas before she did so out of surprise, now it was filled with the ear-splitting terror of her imminent doom. Her neck muscles just didn’t have the strength to be of any use, so she had to hold her head in place telekinetically. The two forces pressing against each other made her skull feel like it was in a vise.

  Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Artemis smiling triumphantly up at her. Carmen sneered back and then telekinetically sent her sailing into the nearest wall without a second thought. Artemis’s hold on her waned upon impact, and she dropped to the ground. After several quick gasps, Carmen looked across the room at her opponent, who was in a similar state.

  The two glared at each other for a quick second before springing to action. Carmen didn’t waste her time in trying to use reason. At this juncture, reason would get her killed. No, her goal was to be first on the draw, and she managed to make par. The two girls zoomed around the room under the thrall of the other, crashing and bumping into walls, the ground, and the ceiling as they went. After a while, Carmen just didn’t have the concentration to hold onto Artemis anymore, and she dropped her much like the sand so many years ago. Artemis dropped her as well only a few seconds later.

  Carmen was literally seeing stars. Her entire body ached. In that moment, she vaguely remembered Janus saying something about never using telekinesis on another Clairvoyant. At the time, she thought it was just another in his long string of stupid, pointless rules. Now, considering the blood she was spitting out of her mouth, she had to admit it was probably a good idea for both parties to limit themselves in at least that way. She glanced at Artemis across the room. Unless Carmen missed her guess, she’d say the girl had come to a similar decision not to use every weapon in her arsenal. At least Carmen wasn’t whipping across the room again.

  Artemis came to her feet hesitantly. Carmen shot to hers, which was a bad idea. She had yet to get her equilibrium back, and she fell back to the ground with a plop. Her opponent looked down at her and slowly shook her head. Carmen sighed. Was she really that pathetic, or was Artemis just suffering from a stiff neck? All things considered, if she could see herself, she’d probably shake her head too.

  She got to her feet again, albeit slower than before, so she wouldn’t fall down again. Artemis assumed a guard and began walking toward her. Carmen unknowingly took a step back.

  “I assume we can’t talk this out,” she said.

  Artemis took a few steps closer. “That would be a good guess.”

  “Why do you want to fight me?”

  “Boredom.”

  “What?” Carmen asked, dumbfounded.

  “I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not go back to my room. Reading and coloring books get dull really fast.”

  Carmen actually rather enjoyed her coloring books—that was, until she burned them. “Yeah, but—”

  “Yeah, but…I don’t know what you’re so worried about. I’m sure they’ll revive you or something after I beat you.”

  “That’s a bit beside the point,” Carmen replied after swallowing hard.

  Artemis chuckled lightly. “Yeah, I guess it is. Anyway, I do have to thank you for being a good sport up to now.”

  Carmen stared at her for a moment, unable to think of a response. “Umm, well, you’re welcome,” she finally muttered.

  The other girl chuckled again, but it was short lived. She closed the distance with a lunging punch Carmen was able to easily avoid. The next few moments after, though, were more pressing. There was no doubt in Carmen’s mind that Artemis wanted to kill her. The reason for that was dubious, but the intent was clear, and now all the more so. It seemed, after those first few almost exploratory strikes, she adjusted to Carmen’s level of ability. She adjusted to Artemis’s ability as well.

  This was no Construct. A Construct could never match a Clairvoyant’s ferocity and precision. Carmen barely had enough time to
think about what she was going to do; she could only react. It was then that all of Janus’s sermons on the Dark, conscious or subconscious desires, and acting without worrying about what you were going to do and how you were going to do it made sense.

  Artemis’s foot sailed toward her head, and Carmen’s arm rose almost automatically to intercept it. The girl’s opposite foot shot out right after it, and Carmen sidestepped out of the way. More punches, more kicks, and to Carmen, she may as well have been sleep walking. A growing fatigue began taking its toll, but for now it couldn’t break her trance-like focus. That was, until Artemis made a mistake. It was slight—almost too small to capitalize on—but to Carmen, the elephant in the room wore a pink tutu while singing opera.

  Her fist started out until she stopped it short. She didn’t want to kill Artemis. She also didn’t want to beat her or even hurt her; she just didn’t want to die again.

  The moment of indecision came at a price. Artemis managed to slip a punch through Carmen’s defenses. It was a glancing blow, but it still stung. Another blurred her vision. She didn’t allow a third. She telekinetically flew backward for a quick breather before Artemis was on her again, this time even fiercer. Carmen figured her opponent must have sensed the blood in the water. The best she could do was use that aggression against her.

  Matching it force for force, while possible with effort, was a losing battle. It was an unstoppable juggernaut that had more in common with a tidal wave or meteor strike than a person. Carmen wanted no part of it, nor did she want to conjure a similar beast to defeat it. No, she could redirect it—refocus it. Artemis attacked, and Carmen made her miss. Artemis rushed her, and Carmen allowed her to overextend. Except, it just wasn’t enough; Artemis was simply too great a dynamo to stave off. If anything, she seemed to be getting stronger or at least gathering more momentum.

  Carmen flew out of the line of fire once again, and Artemis followed like a shadow or reflection. Carmen watched her, trying to predict her movement, but reading the girl was impossible. She was unknowable and unfathomable. She was a creature of such endless depths that even the greatest scholar who’d ever lived wouldn’t be able to come to grips with her. Carmen bobbed, weaved, and danced to escape her, but it just couldn’t be done. There was no going around it, no reasoning with it, and no intellectualizing it away. It was just there, blazing before her in a blinding, scalding light, pressing her to the limits, and accepting nothing but surrender.

  She dashed out of the way once again and evaded it. In the back of her mind, she knew she could only keep this up for so long. A punch just missed over her shoulder. A kick just grazed her cheek. Another punch was stopped short by a block. Carmen slipped and danced behind Artemis…and then it happened.

  Carmen never saw the punch. It connected with a thunderous clap, but she didn’t hear that either. As a matter of fact, she didn’t even feel pain. There was a white flash and then, all of a sudden, she was strangely disconnected from her body. She could still think, but she couldn’t feel. She couldn’t really sense her surroundings anymore. No taste, no sound, no sight—it was as if the world had been ripped from her with that one punch. The only thing she was aware of, and even then only dimly, was that she was falling toward the ground like a log. It was that and that alone that let her know she was not dead. Nevertheless, in her dead-like state, her mind raced. No one thought stood before her, front and center. Millions buzzed by, leaving only brief glimpses of what they were. She knew only seconds had to have passed, but in that eon, one thought repeated itself over and over again. No!

  The Clairvoyant’s limp body came to attention with a snap. She never even hit the ground. Telekinesis supplemented her lost balance, holding her in place just long enough for her to get to her feet. Then her attention turned to Artemis. Fire burned through Carmen’s veins as sensation slowly came back to her. Why Artemis didn’t try to escape was as perplexing as it was foolish. She would make her pay for that.

  Carmen’s punch was not born of any great technique. Swung wide and wild, it was sloppy in its movement. In spite of that, it contained so much power that a Richter scale would be needed to properly measure it. Only missiles approached its velocity, leaving Artemis little choice but to block the blow. Her block, however, was just as sloppy; she didn’t have time for finesse. The best she could do was raise her arm and try to meet force with force. Unfortunately for her, the attempt only resulted in her groaning as the bones in her arm broke under the strain. Teeth flew out of her mouth on impact. Blood soon followed, and Artemis fell to the ground in a heap.

  Carmen stared angrily down at her.

  Isabelle knew she would remember this day for the whole of her life. There was no memory, amplified or even outright fabricated, that could ever recall the amount of fun she was having. Now, though, her eyes glazed over and her mouth hung open. The knot in her stomach echoed the silence in the room. Quite simply, the planet had shifted. Before this…debacle, watching the fight was like watching a sun rise. The event was utterly beautiful and awe-inspiring in its scope, but the outcome was an expected certainty. Yet now a fluke of cosmic mischief was moving that great celestial juggernaut in the wrong direction.

  “This is not happening,” she muttered to herself.

  The soundtrack had been perfect until this moment. It was almost as if the girls were playing for the audience on purpose, or at least just for her. Some stupid people had bet the other way. In any case, Edge would run and she’d get hit. She tried to run away again, and she’d get hit again. The melody was masterful in its execution—five stars, two thumbs up, utterly perfect. The knockout solo was killer, but why did Edge have to go and change the tune? How was it even possible for her to change the tune? A knockout was, well, a knockout. Isabelle saw the hit. The lights weren’t just out; they had been blown out of their sockets. She hated Clairvoyants.

  Isabelle’s fame was assured at this point. The fight had thus far lived up to its billing, even with Edge unable to effectively fight back until now. But the money—all that beautiful money—was utter smoke. The only thing worse was the tension. For who knew what reason, Edge had yet to finish Artemis off. The little blonde, formerly considered milquetoast just stared at her. Isabelle wanted to yell at her to get it over with.

  Carmen’s blood boiled. Artemis was totally at her mercy. It was quite certain that she’d receive none if the situation was reversed, but Carmen couldn’t act. She desperately wanted to. She wanted to smash Artemis’s head in and then go back to her room and never come out. When she looked at the girl, though, violent retribution was the furthest thing from her mind.

  Carmen couldn’t help wondering if she ever looked as helpless. She could feel the girl’s fear and pain despite that she still couldn’t read her. It was palpable. She had little doubt in her mind that even a non-Clairvoyant would notice. For some reason, it struck a chord. They were counterparts, or at least the closest Carmen had ever met. There was no real difference between them or their circumstance. And here she was, this indomitable force of nature, poised to wash over the pathetic, quivering mass. It was so vulnerable, so weak—a hurt, pathetic nothing. She resented the thing almost as much as her heart broke for it. Parts of her, in equal measure, wanted to both hug it and stomp it out of existence.

  “Shit,” Carmen swore under her breath.

  Nothing was ever what it seemed. After today, she’d never argue with Janus about what the Dark was or whether it existed. She fought it with everything she had, yet there was no way to win. Every battle pained her. Nothing had ever made her feel so small or lost, and that was all the truer as she stood over Artemis.

  She looked at her counterpart. Their battle—contest, war, whatever it was—had no real meaning. Nonetheless, she could feel the last six years surge through every blow, every block, every move and countermove. It made no kind of sense. She’d always been fighting—fighting to live. But what was her life? She thought back to her now empty room. All she had left was the battle. She didn’t want t
o surrender. That, for some reason, seemed worse than death. Resistance, however, that immediate, unending reflex that was her only real company, seemed as strict and narrowminded of a friend as a straitjacket.

  Artemis slowly recovered. Carmen took a couple of steps back as her opponent looked less and less pitiable. The arm her punch had plowed through hung lifelessly at the girl’s side, bent at an awkward angle. Artemis soon rectified that, however, by snapping it back into place with telekinesis. Carmen winced at the sight. Artemis winced and groaned as well as she brought both hands into a guard, telekinetically manipulating the busted limb.

  Carmen sighed. “Do we have to keep fighting?” she asked.

  Artemis said nothing but spat a wad of blood onto the ground. Then she took a few steps forward. Carmen sighed again and prepared to defend herself. This time, however, a quiet voice in the back of her head decided she wouldn’t just defend herself. The same voice wouldn’t allow her to outright kill Artemis, but it wasn’t content with simply being a target either.

  Artemis came at her, but cautiously. Either way, Carmen was ready. Her opponent made a soft, hesitant punch, and Carmen let it connect. A surge of confidence filled the room in that moment. Carmen even saw it in Artemis’s face as worry and apprehension gave way to calm and focus. The girl’s next punch reflected as much, and she batted it out of the way. A third punch was coming. It wasn’t on its way yet, but Carmen knew. Maybe Artemis attacked in a pattern she was only aware of subconsciously. Perhaps she was becoming more able to read Artemis after being so intensely confronted by her. Whatever it was, Carmen was so sure the punch was coming that it may as well have been printed on a bus schedule.

  If she had time for it, she would have closed her eyes and sighed contently. There was just something so satisfying about knowing the seemingly unperceivable. It was much the same as when she’d walked in the sun when she was a child, or when she stood on the ceiling. She was reminded of when a sparrow showed off its flying skills just because it could, or the times Mikayla had seemed to just enjoy being a dog. In any case, Carmen stepped to the side and nailed Artemis with two quick punches. Then she stepped away and waited.