"Yes, Sena. Hendrix, they are pretty cool," Walker's smirk couldn't be any more broad. "And -did you know that in mythology they say that the Tydrahn’s lightning can even strike down the mythical firebirds. The ones that keep Aurora Boreal, and in fact, all of Hyperborean from freezing over. Ha!" he chirped. "These myths! Oh, how they are so impractical,” Walker held no punches as he spoke, "for some to comprehend."
She was cornered. She didn't have any moves to make. So she defaulted to her old faithful. "These playing cards were banned over a decade and a half ago. They aren't permitted on school grounds. I'll have to confiscate it." She reached for Corinth's hand holding the card. He frowned but wasn't overcome by any real grief. He liked it, but didn't have much use for it as of yet.
"Actually, Grand Ministrant." Walker was getting bold. He gently smacked her hand away from Corinth's. Emmy and Corinth didn't even notice, it happened so fast. But Anvard was watching Walker like a hawk. He saw the blatant disrespect in his gesture. "I took the liberty of filing a petition to reinstate the card game. It was approved by the board around, uh..." he pulled his wrist up to check his watch, "fancy that, around eight o'clock last night. What a pity you couldn't have joined the committee. They unanimously agreed that it has been too long since the children could bask in the glory of the illustrious game of Deaves." She was astonished at the revelation, and he was ecstatic. "After all, with dangerous sports like Levantarse being played every day, why can't the more docile children have a game they can sink their teeth into as well."
"That's what Spheres is for," she tried arguing but it was already done. And even her status as Grand Ministrant didn't simply grant her the power to reverse a decision finalized by the entire board. Minus herself, of course.
"Well, with all due respect to your inventive skills, Silvia. The children simply don't like Spheres," Walker relayed. "It’s not nearly as fun for them as it may be for a sixty something year old woman.
She shot him a look that said watch it, or lose it. He got the message, and began creepily disappearing around the trunk of the massive tree they stood under. He said his goodbyes, mostly to Corinth, while he walked away.
"Why don't you children run along now," she said with her eyes trained on the back of Walker's plaid shirt. "There are probably some affiliates you'd all like to sign up and try out for. I'm sure with your body type, Anvard, that you'd like to get on the Levantarse team before it’s too late." She turned and smiled as kindly as she could at him. He felt what warmth she was able to muster, so he smiled back widely. Even with that display of affection, she still pressed on assertively. She handled her bones precisely as she passed the children, moving toward her main target. Walker.
Chapter 12:
All Sales Final!
April 1, 1002 ~ Daylight
Inside La Ropa, Criston felt a strange sixth sense coming over. He didn't know if it were the power of this new hand or just plain old intuition. But he definitely felt like he was being watched.
Far off in a high-rise building from out of town, a man smothered by his all black jumpsuit said into a microphone; "We have visual. Do not make contact. I repeat, do not make contact with the suspect. Remain vigilant. Standby for further direction."
Criston walked tactfully along aisle four with his carrier overflowing. He pushed the basket carrier by a long range handle that connected to the rest of the apparatus. The motion was directed by the turn of the handle as well the turnstile-like wheels on the bottom. It was similar to the carts at the food market, but much more nimble and supposedly chic, considering La Ropa’s predominantly a clothing store. Just a slight tap to the end of the handle, and the carrier would go careening into the next aisle.
He rounded aisle four with it slipping from his grasp. He caught the handle just as it banged into the carrier of some friendly looking women. He smiled politely, turning into aisle five. And up ahead, he saw a man glaring at him from behind the service desk. He was wiping the countertop, but staring at Criston as his hand moved around into in looping three-sixties. For a second, he didn't even seem to realize that Cris was staring back. -But when he did, his eyes dropped so fast that an alarm went off in Cris’ mind. He knew they had him cornered.
He decided to play it off. He figured the least they suspected he knew of their intentions, the more shopping he could wrap up before whatever was coming — came along. Hopefully, his bankcard wasn't as frozen as the icy glares employees and patrons alike were throwing at him. Sena Hendrix had given him money to spend, but he preferred to use his own cash. He figured, Corinth is my son after all. I should foot the bill. Little did he suspect that it was the bill from One Stop Drop that helped them tracked down his stomping grounds. Some detective he is.
He had picked up several styles of clothes for his son. He knew Cory would be pissed that he didn't let him pick out his own school gear, but he figured he'd get over it. Anyway, the navy-blue and military-gray uniform he'd be wearing to every class would make the summer and winter clothes his dad bought him look like fashion's latest and greatest. Solely by comparison, that is, because Cris wasn't a well styled man or a good shopper. And he honestly didn't know what Corinth's personal style looked like. He knew his son used to like to skateboard, so he took it from there and ran with it. Everything else would simply be his best guess.
With a thunderous roar, the gates outside the shop windows unexpectedly began shutting. One by one, these protective barriers poured down over the outsides of the store windows, locking Criston, and indeed all the other people, inside La Ropa.
"Hey, what's going on now?" one innocent shopper called out from the front of the store. Without notice, the sinister looking guy behind the counter reached below, bringing back up with him an absorption gun. He took the butt of it, and slammed it into the customer’s forehead. Blood spattered from his head like a gushing hot-spring. The man was down, and so too was Criston.
He instinctively ducked behind an ad for ladies underwear when he heard screams coming from the front door area. People were trying to get out, but were turned away by several figures dressed all in black. They pushed folks back as they forced their way through the double doors. A gaggle of goons burst inside with an oddly sullen ferocity. All disorganized with their dark dead eyes. They clogged the entryway as one man dared to pass them all.
"Move it, you fiends!" came an all too familiar voice. He shouted at his troops. "I'm coming through here." He straightened out the men in line that didn't look quite right. His mop like hair jostled around as he moved emphatically from side to side, attempting to step up a line of defense for the store's front doors.
Cris stayed crouched behind the underwear ad, counting his lucky stars he hadn't been spotted yet. He contemplated taking a look around. Just to survey his options and the conquerors of this expansive shop. He turned around and cautiously poked his head out from the side of the ad. He had a clear view to the storefront, down the main aisle. He saw everything that he'd anticipated. They were Squadron members. It was Geary.
The stomp of his steel-toed boots sent a chill down Criston's spine. The tap against the hard ceramic tile floors echoed throughout the now silent clothing store, full of customers. He traversed the smaller front aisles aimlessly. To no avail were his attempts to flush out what he came for.
"Where are you, Gambit? We know your here!" He scared the life out of a mother and her daughter as he slowly passed them in his heated rage. "Have you seen this man?" He held up a picture of Criston from Squadron records. Cris was decked out in full uniform, with all his commendations and other now useless awards pinned to the navy-blue attire he donned in the old photo. The lady-and her daughter shook their heads… the answer was no.
Geary kept asking people as he passed them. Growing more impatient with every, no answer, he received. "This man—is in this store! That I'm certain of. And yet you pigs pay so little attention to your surroundings that not one of you has seen him." He was standing so close to his prize. Pointing at all the defensele
ss customers with a condemning look in his large blue eyes.
His words actually calmed Cris. He heard Geary speak with that sort of frustration before. He knew he'd take his current plan no further. He'd get more extreme, but at least he wouldn't walk the ten to twelve extra feet it would take him to spot Cris. Geary was standing in the middle of the main aisle, nearly four yards from where Cris hid himself.
"So ... not only are you a dirty cop, Gambit! But you're also a coward!" he was shouting while circling in a three-hundred-sixty degree spin. He hoped his booming voice would reach Cris at whichever end of the store he was concealed within. "You're going to let innocent people get hurt, just so you can evade the law."
A frightened lady, clinging to shelves in the perfume section, looked up at her captor and spat her words down his throat. "You're the only dirty cop I see. I thought Squadron was supposed to be better than the locals. I guess corruption isn't picky."
Geary squinted dramatically, while he rigidly turned his face toward the woman. "You see this stupid chick, crouching in front of me, Cris?" Geary barely acknowledged the woman, though he was speaking of her. He was more focused on wherever Cris could possibly be. A few of the other men, who weren’t incapacitated by the El Muerte Vivo serum, were searching and miraculously coming up empty "Her blood’s on your hands now, buddy!"
The girl had a look of sheer terror on her face as people behind her backed away toward an emergency exit. Geary wasn't paying attention to them. He only wanted the girl for now.
A man pressed hard against the bar-handle to the emergency door. But before he could push out to open it, a Squadron member standing in an adjacent aisle whispered.
"Don't—you—dare." Holding his hand-held absorption gun up, at face level. His black eyes made them all whimper as their escape plans were easily foiled.
Geary watched as the brave, but stupid, crouching lady trembled before him. He released his llave from his clenched fist. It immediately began rotating clockwise at his chest. He let out a visceral, and for Criston, gut wrenching, scream. "Fiat Lux!" The static red beam of light erupted from the rotation, approaching the defenseless girl at light speed.
But before Geary even wielded the spell, Criston threw a six-pack of women's underwear at his spinning llave. Unfortunately, his touch was a few degrees off. Instead of knocking the spinning key out of midair, which wasn't possible anyhow, it intercepted the light wave. The pack of undies immediately exploded when the two disproportionate forces collided. The collision sent ciders of fire whirling in crisscross directions throughout La Ropa. Nearly the entire store broke out in a heat wave of blazing lady undergarments.
The girl, being so close, got caught up in the blast. Her long ruffled skirt lit up like a bonfire. But she was smart enough to lay down flat and roll it out. She extinguished the fire and got up running. The rest of the store wasn't as lucky as her skirt. Everything was catching fire as the remnant of the panties collided with other plastics and clothing shelved down now flaming rows. The spreading Squadron members reassembled at the front door, where there were fewer blazes. This gave the former store patrons the opportunity to slip out through the emergency exit. And what an emergency it was. The entire store would soon be engulfed in flames, and all the windows were covered by grated gates.
Fortunately, everyone got out safe. Except Criston and the unconscious patron. Criston was conveniently trapped by the blaze ahead of him. He couldn't make a run for the front door, or simply slip out the side door with the others. Also, he was concerned about that unconscious fellow who took that hit to the head. Is he okay? Or was it already too late?
"Now, we're willing to put out this fire, Cris!" Geary yelled from the front. "We came here for you alive, not dead! All you need do is surrender." The ceiling tiles around the initial fiery outbreak started to cave. They came crashing down to the ground, but barely registered to Criston. Though Geary noticed promptly. "Now! Surrender now!" he pressed.
Cris didn't even consider it an option. He knew he'd be getting out of here alive and free. But what of the guy at the front of the store? He was the one in danger. Cris knew he couldn't just leave him. Then he'd be just as ruthless as Geary and Sebastian. He didn't like that thought.
He laid flat on the ground and started making his way to the main aisle. After he turned the corner, around what used to be the women's section, he saw that the path down the main aisle was blocked by debris. The perfume stand was knocked on its side and the ceiling had caved right there. He looked around for another clear path. There was none. And he could hear the fire roaring and cracking louder with every passing second. He knew it was only a small matter of time before other parts of the ceiling started falling. Perhaps the one over his head? Then he'd be just as much a goner as the unconscious patron.
He knew what he had to do, but was reluctant to try it for the first time under these tense circumstances. But he had to. So, he employed his last resort. He hadn't used magik since he casted the Erratum spell. It was risky, considering the new way through which he would wield his power. No longer with his llave, but with the hand of fate.
He willed it to work. The flesh melted away as if the fire had caught it. But instead of leaving a void, it revealed a purplish-blue transparent glass, shaped as a hand. A sparkling shine, of which he couldn't deny the beauty. It glowed in the midst of the building smoke. Cris coughed. He knew that was the sign that his window for success was closing rapidly.
He placed the hand on the ground, and called out. "Porta!" Immediately, a portal of the same coloring as his glowing hand opened up in the floor. He pressed through his circumspect feelings. He insisted through his weary thoughts that another portal bring the man's body, lying on the other side of the fire barrier, over to him.
Sena. Hendrix told him the night before that it was his will that determined what fate would now do. He didn't know if his will would be strong enough. But before he could finish doubting himself, the unconscious man washed up next to him, like a drown victim. The man was literally wet too, but Cris figured it was sweat rather than plain old water coating the man’s skin and clothes. In fact, they could use a lot of water in La Ropa right this minute. He couldn't believe that no sprinkler system had kicked in. The things business owners do to cut corners and save money.
Cris felt confident now. The man was safe with him. The fire collapsed some more of the tile ceilings in the front, and that's when Geary started having his crew put it out. Cris could hear the chime of sirens calling from outside the store. This business would be salvaged, the fire wouldn't spread down Crix ave.
He figured that was his cue to exit. In style, of course. He easily opened up a new portal right beside himself. The portal was underneath the unconscious patron, he dropped through to infinity. Cris hoped it was more like the school, as opposed to real infinite space. He looked back before he almost dropped himself in the swirling vortex at his boot-clad feet. He was thinking about all the hard work and hours he put into shopping today. He couldn't just leave his bags behind, because he never wanted to shop for anything ever again. Not after all this.
He stood up tall in the middle of the blazing fire. Geary and his crew had let it rage for too long. Their efforts with fire extinguishers weren't cutting it. The real firefighting crew would have to take over to put this one out. Cris figured he had enough time, so he went to retrieve his purchases from One Stop Drop, and the carrier full of clothes he collected while in La Ropa. He found everything, nearly intact. Save a little ash, his items were in good shape.
The real fire crew entered the front of the store. Just having cut down the gate with some oversized scissors. "Is anyone back there? If you are, stay down, and away from the open flames. Just stay down!"
Cris ignored the firefighters warning and walked back over to his spiral portal. He dropped his One Stop Drop items in first. Then he turned to the carrier. He knew he hadn't actually paid for these things, but justified it with saving that girl and the unconscious man, even though he
’s the reason the store is being grill-charred by flames in the first place. He threw that thought out of his mind. He figured, if the owner couldn't even pay for the mandatory sprinkler system, then the store deserved to burn. He scooped up the clothes and tossed them in. After all, a couple of employees did take him hostage. Stealing a few kid’s outfits would cost less than the lawsuit the owner had coming.
After he wrapped up his thoughts about becoming a thief, he stepped, without even the slightest trepidation, into the spiraling purplish-blue portal, and to another place. Hopefully that place would be the Aurora Boreal school. Or else he and that unconscious patron were replacing trouble, with HUGE trouble!
Chapter 13:
Glass Handed Ghost Man
April 1, 1002 ~ Midday
Three students were listening to a very loud radio in their dorm in Concordia Nova. One of the three buildings that are connected to Olympia. Olympia being the main building where all the classes took place, and where the staff and Corinth all have their dorms on the twelfth and top floor.
Original Souls (A World Apart #1) Page 21
