Fragments of Light

by Beth Hodgson

  A sharp jab hit her shoulder suddenly. Ignoring it, Emerald thought someone had accidentally bumped her. A second passed, then a hard shove pushed her, causing Emerald to slightly stumble.

  Whipping around to see who had shoved her, a woman with black chin-length hair and magenta lips gave her a dark smile. She brought a liquor bottle to her lips, guzzling its contents, then hurled it to the ground. As the bottle shattered, the crowd inched away from the woman, leaving room around the two of them.

  “You with him?” she asked, hands on her hips.

  “Who?”

  The woman pushed Emerald again. “Did you come here tonight with him?”

  “Kyle?” Emerald asked, blinking in confusion. She had not an inkling who this woman was.

  “Yeah.” She approached Emerald, ready to make another move. “Are you two serious?”

  “No, we most certainly are not,” Emerald assured her, narrowing her eyes.

  “I don’t believe you,” the woman accused, her drunken eyes burning with jealousy. She closed in on Emerald’s face, her liquor breath strong. “I saw his tattoo.”

  What about his tattoo?

  “I have no idea what you are talking about,” Emerald shot back. With another glimpse of the woman, Emerald realized this girl had to be a past jilted lover of Kyle’s.

  The thought of herself and Kyle entered Emerald’s mind for a split second, quickening her heart. The thought was new; it had never crossed her mind before until that moment. Secretly, Emerald liked the idea of herself with Kyle, though she couldn’t admit it. He was someone who she would never be able to have. She was a princess, and he was… well… Kyle. What could a guy like him see in a girl such as herself, anyway? A dull girl from the upper levels of Arcadia? Kyle was so fierce, so wild, and everything Derek wasn’t.

  Her mind filling with self-doubt, Emerald reached for her necklace, feeling Derek’s jewel against her fingers. Prince Derek was meant for me, she told herself. Although in her heart she wasn’t sure she believed those words.

  “You are mistaken; we have nothing between us,” Emerald said quickly. “And even if we did, what is that to you?”

  “Bitch!” the woman screamed as she shoved Emerald hard, causing Emerald to slam to the ground. The people around her saw that a fight was starting and formed a circle around them. Angrily, Emerald whipped her ponytail out of her face, rising steadily to her feet. With a hot gush of fury, Emerald’s blood burned. This woman aggravated her to no end.

  The woman laughed, most of the crowd joining her. Emerald felt all the eyes of the crowd glaring at her, as if they somehow knew she wasn’t from the lower levels, jeering and throwing insults and making jokes about her and “her kind.” Emerald even heard voices from within the crowd declaring the woman to be the winner before the fight began.

  Not if Emerald could help it.

  Emerald pounced, quickly entangling the woman within her grasp. The woman clawed at her with her sharp, painted lacquer nails, aiming at Emerald’s face. Each time, Emerald was quicker, dodging the woman. Emerald didn’t know how to fight, nor had she ever had to do so, but she followed her gut. Within her soul, she felt the magic within her boiling over, begging to be released. The desire to unleash her dark-green magic grew unbearable, but she resisted the urge to let the magic have its way, forcing it back down within her soul.

  The two tangled with each other, then the woman pushed herself and Emerald to the ground. She was about to swipe at Emerald’s face, but Emerald pushed the woman off with her boot, causing the woman to lose her balance. There was a loud crack when the woman’s body hit the concrete, and she fell flat next to her. Emerald heard the woman gasping for breath.

  She had knocked the breath out of her by the fall.

  Taking that opportune moment, Emerald shot up over the woman, clutching the woman’s shirt in her knuckles, forcing her face into the woman’s. Emerald’s eyes narrowed, glaring. Emerald allowed herself to give a satisfactory smile to the woman, then to the crowd, as if she had proved everyone wrong about their initial assessment of her.

  Kyle’s colorful words came to her mind.

  “Don’t fuck with me,” Emerald warned, panting for breath.

  The woman continued to find her breath, grasping her chest. The crowd that encircled them began to cheer. Realizing that there were still onlookers, Emerald flung the woman to the ground, releasing her grasp on the woman’s shirt. There on the ground, the woman finally began breathing, wheezing for air.

  With her adrenaline still pumping, her magic began to swell like a balloon inside of her, like she was going to explode. It built up greater and greater, and she began to choke on the magic, trying every moment to hold it back. With every ounce of will she had inside of her, Emerald forced her magic back down inside her core before her dark power took control.

  Taking a few more deep breaths, Emerald turned and pushed desperately through the crowd that circled her, making her way back toward the street, anxious for the race’s outcome.

  ***

  Kyle ignored everything around him. The jeers of the crowd. The throwing of trash against him. Jaxx’s lame insults that he yelled over the roar of the engines. They could all go to hell.

  “Nice fucking bike. Did you put it together from the junkyard?” Jaxx laughed.

  Kyle didn’t even give Jaxx the pleasure of seeing his reaction. Instead, he revved his engine in response.

  Jaxx continued to laugh over the booming sound of his own engine. “I bet your dick is as small as your bike. Can’t even satisfy your woman.”

  Kyle had every urge to flip out his pocket knife and stab the shit out of Jaxx, but he clenched his jaw in anger, revving his engine again.

  Don’t give in to that fucking asshole, Kyle told himself. It took every ounce of his strength to appear as if he wasn’t the least bit affected by Jaxx’s words, but inside, he was about to explode with fury.

  Kyle didn’t just want to win the race, he had to win. Yes, Kyle was pissed about the damn guitar. But the pile of shit had laid his hands on Em, something that made him utterly rage. Just seeing her body twist in his arms inflamed him.

  He was no fucking white knight, but his damn honor was at stake. And to hell if he was going to have that shithead win. There was no fucking way. What would Em think of him if he lost?

  Em. His head was spinning. From the moment he met her, he couldn’t stop thinking about her. It was pissing him off. So fucking beautiful, and he didn’t have a chance in hell with her. And why would he? He was some fucking broke aspiring guitarist trying to make his way through the world. He had nothing to offer to a woman like Em. The thought made him more angry and confused.

  Never fucking gonna happen, Kyle, he told himself. Don’t waste your time…

  A man stood in front of Jaxx and Kyle with one of his arms held up, the other looking at a watch. Kyle maintained his focus straight ahead, ignoring every distraction, awaiting any sort of movement from the man’s hand.

  With a sudden jerk of his hand downward, he yelled through the noise of the engines, “Go!”

  Kyle instantly gunned it, his motorcycle peeling away from the crowd. Jaxx’s bike could be heard doing the same thing, both engines competing with one another. The noise of the crowd faded, replaced with the rumbling of his engine as he shifted gears, gaining speed.

  Jaxx’s engine roared next to his, drowning out the sound of his own bike. It was time to settle this shit once and for all. Curling his lip in contempt, Kyle leaned inward, trying to be as aerodynamic as he could with the winds raging against his face.

  The winds always favored him somehow. Always.

  Kyle pulled in the clutch as he and Jaxx turned a corner, both bikes still neck and neck. Coming out of the turn, he shifted back into gear, gaining momentum once again.

  The road ahead was clogged with ground transports, with stop-and-go traffic.

  The fuck?

  He immediately pulled in the clutch, downshifting to weave through the crowded
obstacles. Some people from the sidewalk cheered, others yelled to watch where he was going, while jaywalkers scrambled out of his way. A hovering sound could be heard above him from air transports.

  Better not be the damn authorities.

  He viciously spun through the traffic, dodging all the transports that blocked his path. Out of corner of his eye, he saw Jaxx do the same, although his bike was much larger than Kyle’s, causing him to be slower with the maneuvers, letting Kyle have the upper hand.

  Take that, asshole!

  Kyle accelerated as the road opened up, giving him a solid lead on Jaxx. He pulled the throttle back all the way, furiously making his way to the corner of the block. He pulled in the clutch once again, letting the bike glide into the turn, then shifted back into gear as he moved into the next block.

  It was beautiful. Nothing in the way this time.

  Faster and faster, he drove, like a maniac out of the pits of hell. The city lights began to blur, and sewer fog blanketed the street in one giant shape from the velocity of his bike.

  From behind him, Kyle could hear the sound of Jaxx’s engine. Second by second, Jaxx inched closer to him, until they were even once again. Jaxx leaned in closer to Kyle’s right side, leaving almost no gap. Kyle veered to the left, but he was close to the other side of the street, near the middle of the road. He was so damn close to the oncoming transports he could kiss them. Jaxx rode closer again, so close that it was a miracle the bikes weren’t touching. Jaxx kicked his left leg out, hitting Kyle’s bike.

  Kyle’s bike fiercely skidded into the other lane, into oncoming traffic. Wild honks and alarms sounded. With a quick maneuver, Kyle weaved out of the transports’ way, swerving back into the correct lane.

  They both glanced at each other evenly, then Jaxx’s facial tattoos twisted into smile that only an asshole would give. Kyle saw Jaxx flip a switch. Suddenly, his engine roared and flamed as if his engine was on steroids.

  The motherfucker used nitrous oxide.

  “Fucking pussy,” Jaxx shouted as he laughed, racing past him.

  Angrily, Kyle pulled back the throttle as much as he could to gain speed, but it was useless. There was no way in hell his bike could match against another bike with fuel that mimicked crack.

  Kyle leaned into the next corner, pulling in the clutch. Kyle watched in pure frustration as Jaxx, who was now ahead of him by a long shot, blazed down the street. Kyle snarled, trying to catch up, but it was no use. Jaxx was now nearing the next corner and had gained more distance between them.

  That piece of shit!

  Determined to not let the asshole win, Kyle sped as fast as he could, letting the winds glide against his bike.

  As he approached the turn, Kyle saw a miracle drop out of the sky, a literal fucking miracle. Out of nowhere, a ground vehicle collided into something on the other side of the street, and it went swinging right in front of Jaxx. Jaxx veered off sharply to avoid the turn, but he had to slam on his brakes. Kyle was instantly prepared, since he was far behind. He veered off course, missing the transport, then passed Jaxx, leaving him behind in street trash as he turned the final corner.

  In the distance ahead, he saw the venue, where the crowd was cheering.

  The invisible finish line.

  Kyle sped past the man who’d started the race, and the man proclaimed Kyle the winner. The crowd roared with cheers for the most part, although there were some who were booing and throwing their liquor bottles at Kyle, especially from Jaxx’s gang.

  After thirty seconds, Jaxx came racing past the finish line. Jaxx slammed his brakes, sliding like butter against the concrete, then jumped from his bike, slamming it to the ground like a child having a tantrum. He gave his bike a kick, turning to his buddies.

  “Guitar!” he roared, gesturing for the case.

  Kyle lit a cigarette, taking a drag. He held out his hands, waiting for Jaxx to return his guitar, eyeing his every movement. The guitar was handed over to Jaxx, who looked at Kyle for a moment.

  “What are you waiting for?” Kyle sneered. “I won. Hand it over.”

  Jaxx opened the guitar case, throwing the case aside. He looked intently at Kyle’s guitar, studying it.

  “Come on, man,” Kyle said coolly, watching his every movement.

  “Go to hell, asshole!” Jaxx screamed, smashing the guitar into the ground, then he threw what was left in his hands at Kyle’s feet.

  “You motherfucking asshole!” Kyle shouted, throwing himself at Jaxx. He slammed his fist into Jaxx’s face, then quickly went in for another punch. Jaxx roared, hurling his knuckles hard against Kyle’s cheek, just missing his jaw. Kyle latched onto Jaxx, then successfully landed a huge blow to Jaxx’s face. Jaxx tumbled to the ground, bringing Kyle down with him. The massive biker got above Kyle, then grabbed Kyle’s skull with his meaty hands and slammed it against the concrete.

  Kyle’s head instantly became fuzzy and his mind delirious, the fight becoming nothing more than a blur. Blood and blows. Over and over again, the two exchanged punches, both men pummeling each other’s bodies. Kyle saw Diego’s face, with him trying to pull Kyle away from Jaxx, but Kyle was too infuriated, and he swung aimlessly at his buddy. Every successful punch filled Kyle with satisfaction, but at the same time, he kept getting smacked back. After a while, Kyle had no idea if he was giving or receiving the punches. It didn’t matter. That asshole deserved it.

  Very faintly, Kyle heard sirens. Arcadia’s authorities.

  Jaxx’s gang began to pull their leader away, yelling at him about the authorities coming. The sounds of Em’s boots clacked as she ran up to Kyle, shaking his arms.

  “Kyle! The authorities are coming! We have to go!” she exclaimed, her blurry face fearful.

  “Fuck the authorities,” Kyle spat, attempting to get up to resume the fight. He instantly stumbled back to the ground. He was now out of Jaxx’s reach, no thanks to his gang. “Fucking bullshit!” Kyle raged. “I won fair and square, and the asshole fucks me anyway!”

  Kyle felt a cool hand against his hot flesh, and he became acutely aware that his face was bruised and bloodied. The sirens became louder. Through the blur, flashing colors of the authority lights could be seen.

  “Kyle, please listen,” Em pleaded with him softly. “We have to go.”

  Em’s hand lingered on his swollen face. Her cooling touch made his face feel better with every passing second. She gently turned his head toward her, and his eyes made contact with hers. Her eyes were so beautiful. Even that freckle under her eye was so damn cute.

  “The authorities must not find me,” she said quietly but fiercely. “Please, Kyle, please,” she begged.

  It was her words that subdued his rage, like a spell that broke him from his trance. She really didn’t want to be found by the police.

  Now that was his type of woman.

  “Okay, Em,” he said, staring into her vivid green eyes as the sirens grew louder. “For you, I will leave.”

  God. Why did she have to be so damn beautiful?

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  The message came right as Emerys was finishing his late supper. Damaris had summoned an emergency Inner Council meeting. Emerys took another bite of food before his personal attendant rushed him out of his quarters.

  Damaris had been very irrational lately, but in his defense, the princess was missing, and the kingdom was broke. But Emerys did feel truly sorry for Prince Derek’s situation. Had Emerys known before the prince’s arrival that the King’s intention was to hold Derek hostage, Emerys would have thought of some way to convince Damaris otherwise. Or secretly make it known to Derek. Emerys had always admired the York royal family, and he had no desire to see any harm come to the prince. And what Emerys wouldn’t give to have a true and upright ruler like Derek on the throne of Arcadia, and not some hothead who had delusions of grandeur of living forever with his daughter’s powerful blood.

  Walking in haste through the upper-mid section of the palace corridors, Emerys came to his floor’s l
ift. Noticing that it was in use on another level, Emerys decided to use the stairs. Heaven knew he needed the exercise, as he never got enough of it sitting in those council chairs all day. As he hurriedly skipped down the staircase, he nodded in acknowledgment to others of great importance as he was ascending. He had no time for anyone else, as he knew it would cause further delay, but he did feel a bit sorry for those whose greetings he did not return.

  Emerys crossed the encased glass bridge that led to the Inner Council chambers. It was nearing evening, and Emerys could see the night sky below his feet through the glass and the green neon lights of the palace. The bridge had a spectacular panoramic view of the city, one of the best views in the palace, with exception of the King’s and princess’s quarters. Emerys promptly entered, his eyes met by Damaris’s empty gaze.

  Upon his arrival, Emerys immediately noted that Damaris did not look well. The King was sitting in the room alone, his face pale with a light sweat on his brow. He seemed disturbed, almost as if he had not slept, with dark rings around his eyes, and his cheekbones were sunken in. Even considering the amount of wine he drank, he did not seem himself; it was more like a zombified version.

  For all of the years that he had known and served Damaris, he had never seen the King distressed or disturbed. Well, not like this. His Majesty was always composed, had much self-confidence, and had a sharp bite ready for those who opposed him. He did not flinch in times of trouble, except with the stunning revelation of the Queen’s affair. That was the only moment Emerys had finally seen the King lose his collectedness. But right now, one could argue that this was worse just by the sheer look of Damaris. Much worse.

  As Emerys approached, he bowed to Damaris, then seated himself at the table. The other members of the council began to trickle in one by one, until they all arrived. They sat in silence until Damaris spoke.

  “Councilors and lords,” Damaris said, addressing them by title, “I have called upon you this evening to discuss with you the future of York.” He gazed at them sternly with an awkward movement.