Wind Runner: The Complete Collection

by Edmund Hughes

“You remember?”

  “I think so…” Rose frowned at him, and Malcolm felt her hand tense against his. He gave it an encouraging squeeze as the two started walking with purpose.

  They’d stumbled into a rundown section of the suburbs, and though Rose’s house was big, it was in a similarly destitute state. The house’s paint was chipped, and the lawn was horribly overgrown, but there were lights on inside, which gave Malcolm a little bit of hope.

  “Alright,” said Rose. “I’ll be in your shadow. I guess just… knock on the door? Maybe ask whoever answers if they know about me?”

  “This is your childhood home, Rose,” said Malcolm. “I mean, doesn’t it make sense for you to be a part of this, too?”

  “It was your idea to come out here, Malcolm,” said Rose. “And I’m a spryte, remember? It’s not a good idea for me to reveal myself in the light without knowing how someone is going to react.”

  She has a point…

  “Alright,” said Malcolm. He felt Rose’s hand slip from his as she disappeared into the shadow. “Here we go…”

  He walked up the porch stairs and came to a stop in front of the door, considering what he was going to say. Malcolm cleared his throat, gave the door a few solid knocks, and then waited.

  The door opened a crack, and someone peered out. Malcolm frowned, wondering if whoever was inside the house was right to be paranoid, given the state of the neighborhood.

  “Hi there,” he said. “I’m here on behalf of a friend. I’m wondering if you either are the original owner of this house, or if you’d mind if I-”

  The door swung completely open. Someone grabbed Malcolm roughly by the shoulder and pulled him inside, immediately pushing him down to the floor. The cold metal barrel of a gun pushed into the back of his head.

  CHAPTER 6

  “He a cop?”

  “He’s got to be. And a fucking stupid one, too.”

  Malcolm sighed. He shifted his head to the side slightly, far enough to get a better view of the room he was in. An old, moldy looking couch was pulled up to a coffee table, which held multiple bags of a wide spectrum of drugs.

  Two men sat on the couch, while a few others lay sprawled out on the floor, or leaning against walls. The inside of the house was more disgusting than the neighborhood outside, something Malcolm hadn’t thought possible. Beer bottles and empty pizza boxes littered the floor, and the dirty carpet smelled of ammonia and rot.

  “We gotta do something about the fucking pigs this time,” said the man holding Malcolm down. “I’m sick of them thinking they can fuck with us whenever they want.”

  “Hold on just a second,” said Malcolm. “This is just an honest misunderstanding. See, I came here because-”

  The man on top of Malcolm pushed the gun harder against his skull, the metal painful against the back of his sensitive scalp. He winced and tried to keep his anger in check.

  “Motherfucker,” said the man. “Do you know who the fuck we are?”

  Malcolm laughed.

  “Hey, I hate to turn your question around on you, but do you have any idea who the fuck I am?”

  The room was silent with surprise for a solid second. It was all Malcolm needed.

  He pulled the wind to him and exploded it outward in a dome of force, not to hurt anyone, but to knock loose pistols and scatter the weapons across the room. The man on top of Malcolm gave a shout of surprise, which was cut off halfway through by Malcolm’s elbow connecting with his nose.

  Malcolm stood up, smiling. He held his hands out in front of him, trying to calm people down so he could start his appeal over. He wasn’t there to fight. He was just there to take a look around.

  Who’s to say a heavily armed gang of criminals can’t be sensible and reasonable, if given the chance?

  Another gang member jumped out from the hallway, shouting and leveling an assault rifle at Malcolm’s head. He reacted out of pure instinct, slamming up a shield of wind deflection over the barrel.

  The bullets began spilling out of it, loud enough to make everyone in the room momentarily deaf. Malcolm deflected each one of the bullets, careful to make sure that they angled up and away from any houses or cars on the street outside.

  Rose appeared beside him, and Malcolm was suddenly thankful for the disgusting living room’s poor illumination. The man who’d originally been on top of him had pulled a knife, and another man stood up from the couch, both of them attacking Malcolm at once.

  Wind manipulation was infinitely useful in most contexts, but when it came to a knife fight in a confined space, there was only so much it could do. Malcolm tried to knock loose the blade of the nearest one, but the man had learned his lesson from earlier, and held it tight.

  The unarmed man threw a fast punch at Malcolm’s face. Drawing from his vast hand to hand combat experience, Malcolm blocked it solidly with the side of his skull. Stars exploded into his vision, but he was still alert enough to see the knife wielding man pulling his weapon back to stab it into his stomach.

  Malcolm slammed forward with the wind, knocking the armed man back through door leading outside. The man tumbled down the porch stairs and let out a scream that suggested he’d accidentally taken the point of his own weapon into his own body.

  Another gang member tried to pull Malcolm into a bear hug. He shot up toward the ceiling with a wind assisted jump, spinning and kicking at the same time. The result was like something out of a Tarantino movie, and Malcolm’s foot caught the man directly in the jaw. He crumpled to the ground without complaint.

  Malcolm looked across the room to see Rose taking on four men at once. It wasn’t anything like a fair fight, and Malcolm felt a sudden sympathy for the men. One of them was sobbing uncontrollably, not even engaging Rose, but huddled on the ground in fear, and for good reason.

  Rose had called shadow tendrils from every dark corner of the room. She had them wrapped around one of the man’s necks, and had broken the arms of one of the others, contorting them at horrible angles. It was an intense scene, and the casual, confident way Rose held herself in the middle of the violence only made it that much more terrifying.

  Rose held the fourth man aloft with her tendrils, and was slowly pulling at his limbs like a sadistic child might torture an unlucky spider. Malcolm watched, feeling more than a little uncomfortable.

  She isn’t actually going to do it… right?

  “Rose,” said Malcolm. “Hey… Remember why we’re here?”

  “Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” Rose was smiling. She slowly drew the man she held in the air closer, until his face was only a few inches from hers. “Tell me. Have you seen me before? Do you know why I’m here?”

  “I… I…” The man’s eyes were wide, and he was trembling visibly. “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

  “Let’s take a more general approach,” said Malcolm. “Whose house is this? Can anyone answer that, to start?”

  The man who Malcolm had kicked in the head made a grunting noise and slowly sat up. He looked as though he was summoning all the courage he had just to keep his eyes open and face the room.

  “It’s mine,” said the man. “Well… I mean, technically it’s not mine. But I’m house sitting for the owner.”

  Rose let her shadow tendrils dissolve, dropping the men in her grasp to the floor. She walked over to Malcolm and stood next to him, staring down at the man speaking with a curious expression on her face.

  “Who is the owner?” asked Rose. “Can you give a name?”

  “…Leah,” said the man. “Leah Westward. My ex-girlfriend.”

  Malcolm raised an eyebrow and glanced over at Rose.

  “Does that ring any bells?” he asked.

  “It’s… my sister,” said Rose. “At least… I think it is?”

  She bought a hand up to her forehead. Malcolm put a hand on her shoulder.

  “Are you alright?” he asked.

  “Yeah,” muttered Rose. “It’s just… a very weird sensation. I can’t remember much, and it’
s all jumbled up.”

  Malcolm was about to ask more when a new figure emerged from the hallway, wielding a pistol in each hand. Acting purely on reflex, he threw himself down to the floor, pulling Rose with him and tossing up a wind deflection shield.

  Bullets tore through the air. The men in the room started screaming, the fight already having gone out of most of them. Malcolm was trying to keep himself in front of Rose. He reached a hand back to make sure she stayed near, only to discover that she’d disappeared into the shadows.

  “You fuckhead!” screamed the new attacker. “You think you can fuck with us and get away with it.”

  “That’s exactly what I think.” Malcolm whipped the wind across the man’s hands as hard as he could. One of his pistols came loose. The man raised the other to fire another shot, but it was easy to keep him from holding steady aim with the wind.

  The man fired a couple more times before the gun went empty. He threw it at Malcolm, who deflected it upward with the wind and then caught it in his hand.

  “There are so many other, smarter ways you could have gone about that,” said Malcolm. “Sneak attacks are pretty formidable when you’re, you know… sneaky about them.”

  “Fuck you!” The man screamed and charged forward. Malcolm slammed the wind into his chest, pushing him into the wall behind him hard enough to knock him out and leave an impression of his body.

  Rose reappeared next to him, arms pulled tightly across her chest. She frowned at him and gave a quick shake of her head.

  “I looked through most of the rooms,” she said. “There isn’t anything else here that I care about.”

  “Did it stir up any new memories?” asked Malcolm.

  Rose shook her head again.

  “No,” she said. “At least… not any that make much sense to me.”

  Malcolm looked over at the man he’d been talking to before.

  “Your ex-girlfriend,” he said. “Where is she now?”

  “Leah…?” The man winced. “She left me for some chick.”

  Malcolm furrowed his brow.

  “Really?”

  “I’m not fucking with you,” said the man. “She was some religious bitch. One of the crazies from that stupid Awakened Children Church just outside of the city.”

  Malcolm nodded slowly.

  “That’s helpful,” he said. “See, if you’d been willing to talk with us to begin with, you would have saved us all the time and trouble. And probably a bunch of money on getting those bullet holes patched up…”

  The man spat blood on the floor next to him. He raised a hand and pointed a finger at Rose.

  “I can see the resemblance, you know,” he said. “Well… Not in the skin. And you got bigger tits than she does, that’s for sure. But you’re both fucking crazy…”

  “Don’t push your luck,” said Malcolm. He gave the man a quick cuff with the wind, flattening him to the ground, and then nodded to Rose. They headed out of the house, walking faster as they stepped out onto the exposed street.

  CHAPTER 7

  “So, come on,” said Malcolm. “Give me the details. What else did you remember?”

  The two of them were walking side by side, back toward the bus station. Malcolm had Rose’s hand in his, and decided he quite liked holding it. It reminded him a little of being in middle school again.

  “Why does it matter so much to you?” asked Rose. “I didn’t remember anything important. And I don’t feel like I’ve reached enlightenment, or mastered my emotions, or whatever it is you were expecting out of this trip.”

  “I just want to know,” said Malcolm. “I mean, I did get shot at in order for you to find out. Kind of a lot.”

  Rose rolled her eyes at him, but she was smiling.

  “Only really one memory that makes sense,” she said. “I was maybe… nine or ten. I was playing at the park with Leah, who was probably five or six at the time. She fell off the swing and broke her arm.”

  “…And?”

  “And I ran home and got my parents,” said Rose. “I can’t remember their faces, or names, or even what they sounded like. Just that… I know that they were there, and when I found them, they made everything better.”

  Rose let out a slow sigh. Malcolm shifted his arm up, putting it around her shoulders.

  “Sorry,” he said. “I can’t imagine how tough this must be for you.”

  “It isn’t, Malcolm,” said Rose. “That’s what you’re not getting. This feels like remembering details of a dream. Sure, I’d love to know more about who I was… But it just seems a little inconsequential, now. Almost like the memories belong to someone else.”

  I wonder if she really means that, or if it’s just what she’s telling herself to feel better about it?

  Malcolm decided that it was better to keep the question to himself. He gave Rose’s shoulders a squeeze. She leaned her head against him.

  “It’s okay,” he said. “We can head back to my place and relax for tonight. They’ll be plenty of time for us to follow up on finding your sister tomorrow, or the next night.”

  “Were you listening to anything I just said?”

  Malcolm frowned.

  “Yeah,” he said. “Why?”

  “I don’t even know if there’s any reason for me to go looking for her, Malcolm,” said Rose. “What the fuck would I say to her once I found her? Hi, sister. I don’t remember you, and I’m a monster now, but let’s have a lovey, dovey reunion!”

  “I bet you could phrase it a bit more eloquently than that if you gave it some time.”

  Rose growled and jokingly bit his shoulder.

  “Seriously,” she said. “I don’t see any point.”

  “Do you trust me?” asked Malcolm.

  Rose made a show of thinking about it for a couple of seconds.

  “I guess.”

  “Then trust that finding your sister is the right thing for you to do,” he said. “Not just for you, but for her, too.”

  Rose didn’t say anything, but Malcolm could tell that his words had reached her.

  The bus arrived a few minutes after they reached the bus stop. Rose snuck on in Malcolm’s shadow, and they both sat in the back. It was a quiet ride back to Vanderbrook, and Malcolm was content to leave Rose alone with her thoughts.

  As the bus rounded the corner onto Malcolm’s street, he saw something that made him wince. Rose had been napping with her head against his shoulder, and glanced up at him.

  “What is it?” she asked.

  Malcolm nodded out the window to the black BMW parked on the street in front of his apartment.

  “Tapestry,” he said. “I have no idea what she’s doing here, but that’s definitely her car.”

  Rose let out a small laugh and flashed a wicked smile.

  “Yeah, just whatever could she be doing?” she asked, in a mocking voice. “Coming to visit her close friend and coworker, in the middle of the night…”

  Malcolm rolled his eyes.

  “It’s probably something related to work.”

  He checked his phone, but there were no messages backing up his theory.

  “Well regardless, I understand,” said Rose. “You can’t exactly bring me inside if she’s waiting up for you.”

  “I’m sorry,” said Malcolm. “I’ll talk to her and see if I can get her out quickly.”

  “It’s alright,” said Rose. “You’ll just insult her if you refuse her, you know. Take your time. Have a nice, sensual, romantic night.”

  Malcolm groaned.

  “You’re making me feel skeezy, Rose,” he said. “That’s not what I want. My life is already complicated enough, as it is.”

  “Malcolm.” Rose put her hand on his cheeks and turned his head to face her. “There’s no need for you to feel guilty, or weird, about having partners other than me.”

  Easier said than done…

  “Rose, I-”

  “Malcolm,” she said, cutting him off. “You need all of the allies you can get. Whether you lik
e it or not, you need to open yourself up to this woman, even if it’s hard. Her loyalty and feelings for you might save your life someday.”

  “So, what? I’m just supposed to use her for all that she can offer?” Malcolm scowled and shook his head.

  “She’s the one showing up at your place randomly in the middle of the night,” said Rose. “If anything, she’s the one using you. Take my advice and let her.”

  “And you’re just… totally fine with it?” asked Malcolm. “I find that a little hard to believe.”

  Rose shrugged.

  “Maybe I’ll head down to Terri’s Tavern and find myself a nice, handsome demon to hang out with tonight.”

  Malcolm couldn’t keep his shock and revulsion from showing on his face. Rose giggled and brought a hand up to her mouth.

  “It was a joke, Malcolm,” she said. “I’m more of a one partner at a time, kind of girl.”

  “That makes you pushing me into this with Tapestry that much weirder, you know.”

  “I guess.” Rose gave him a quick kiss on the lips. “But it doesn’t make me wrong.”

  She disappeared into his shadow just as the bus came to a stop and opened its doors. Malcolm stood up and walked off, taking a route across the street that brought him through a patch of complete darkness. He could just barely see Rose splitting off from him, the hood of her sweatshirt pulled up to hide her eyes and pale purple skin.

  Malcolm walked over Tapestry’s BMW and up to the lightly tinted driver’s side window. He gave it a gentle rap with his knuckles and stepped back. The door opened, and Melanie, Tapestry’s great granddaughter, stepped out into the street.

  CHAPTER 8

  “Malcolm! Finally! I’ve been waiting for at least an hour. Where were you, anyway? Are you out doing suspicious things late at night? Fun things? You can call me if you’re going out to have fun, you know. I like to have fun too!”

  Melanie wore a short black skirt with a frilly pink blouse, along with a generous amount of makeup on her face. Malcolm was a little disappointed to see that she’d covered up most of her freckles, which he’d always thought went nicely with her reddish-brown hair.