by Kat Quinn
I shrug. “At least it had the courtesy to knock first.”
27. Lin
Over the next few hours, each of us grew more and more paranoid, constantly keeping an eye on the clock as well as every customer coming through the door. Of course, nothing so exciting as we expected happened, though there was a small incident where a patron was nearly mauled by our startled collective after accidentally knocking over some merchandise. I admit that, perhaps, our tensions are a bit too high. May be time to inject a bit of fun.
Connor, the thoughtful little love dumpling that he is, loaded up Garrett and Emmaline with bottled illusions, just in case. Hardly a breath was taken as we watched them drive away from the shop, Garrett’s car becoming barely a smudge on the horizon.
“As wonderfully eventful as this relatively uneventful day has been, perhaps we should consider not entertaining an encore?” I suggest as we hustle to our own SUV. “I say this out of concern for the poor wolf’s heart, of course; it’s dubious as to whether the thing could resist erupting under much more of this stress. The rest of us are clearly fine and in no way need a bit of calming.” Not one single chuckle, barely even a glare from the red-headed beast. Things really have gotten serious.
Any attempts at conversation are met with curt responses on the drive home. What’s for dinner? Food. Would anyone like to play a game to relieve some tension? No. You seem to have misplaced your sense of humor, would you like assistance in finding it? Shut up, Lin.
Eventually, even my patience is worn thin and I let them dance between brooding and anxious surveillance on the drive home. Extending both legs over the passenger side dash, my attentions drift towards the massive collection of documents Whisper graciously armed us with. Disturbingly, the numbers 32687, discovered this morning by Dizzy next to her own name, keep appearing on multiple reports. At first, they seem to be random numbers, nearly nonsensical notes, and a potential log of meals ingested. Resource requests, and resources consumed. Weather conditions, geographical altitude, something resembling an astrological chart. Within it all, an ongoing pattern eventually reveals itself, an underlying list of cause and effect. Mentions of methods used, and her reaction to them; all marked with a failure next to the results of their attempts.
There are hundreds upon hundreds of pages like this, only a fraction of which are connected specifically to her. Plenty seem to be similar observations of entirely different subjects. Worryingly, many seem to discontinue after tests marked as successful, very few moving onwards after victory.
My blood boils. If I’m reading this right, this portion of the log looks entirely to be illegal tests run on otherwise unwitting targets. There are lists of potions, spells, physical attacks, psychic manipulations, poisons, and dozens of other methods of interference, all listed as administered to their targets. A few even directly line up with stories Dizzy’s told us about curses she’s absorbed and broken over her lifetime, many of which I’m very well aware of the actual pain they caused her. Not all of them report the final results.
If I’m reading it right, which, it’s entirely possible I’m not, I am looking at a list of the abused, and the dead. What the fuck.
Any inkling I may have had that this whole thing was a hoax crumbles to ashes as a flame burns inside me hot enough to melt stone. Unlocking some of the information and investigating it with my truth capabilities, my stomach churns in disgust when the feedback confirms my torturous suspicions. How dare they. How dare anyone? If need be, I will find these monsters and make them pay for this utter cruelty. Life is not meant to be stolen this way. No one has the right to cause this kind of cruelty and pain, there’s not a single acceptable reason in the whole universe, not even if it’s accidental. And especially to someone for whom I care? The documentation goes back years. DECADES. They’ve all suffered countless inexplicable punishments, and for what? What justification could possibly be fabricated for such torture?
If I believed in coincidence, I’d think it was one of the largest ones that meeting this woman and finding this information should happen one after the other, but I’ve long suspected coincidence is just a cruel and clever disguise of fate. If fate means for me to be the guardian of this knowledge, then I’ll be damned if I don’t use it wisely. There is a price to pay for all things and I mean to be the one to collect.
As we park in our driveway, I feel everyone else’s energy sigh with relief; our journey not even disturbed by a threatening tail today.
Me, on the other hand, my chest burns as my gut writhes. There’s a fury building thick behind my brow, rage a laser fueling my vision. Plastering on a tooth-filled grin, derangement possibly lining its edges, I slam the car door while heading directly for the back yard. The gnashing in my chest is too urgent to bother with wasting time on changing clothes.
Finally, Kieran’s insistence that we train constantly can be used as an outlet for my aggression towards these injustices. Life and death is not a thing meant to be toyed with just because you can. They’re too fragile, with consequences that spread endlessly within those left behind to grieve.
Reaching up the back of my vest, I unsheathe a short tanto sword concealed beneath the satiny fabric and spin it tightly in my grasp, blade cutting through the air with a snap. The last few rays of sun dance delicately along the sharpened edge, red glinting off it like the promise of blood.
“Eager to get started tonight?” Kieran strolls out of the back door, tossing his shirt off and over one shoulder.
My nod is curt, one foot gliding back along the grass as I raise my sword in both hands, tip pointing demandingly at its target. Wordlessly, I wait for him to approach, a coil tensed and ready to spring as soon as the trigger is pulled.
Zeke comes out, Monty follows, Connor and Dizzy are close behind. Motionlessly, I wait, anticipation of the first strike almost delicious enough to wash away the bitter taste of my discovery. They’re paired off; grunts of exertion background noise to the patient pounding of my own heart’s booming beats. Everything melts away as I wait, sword still poised and tracking Kieran’s unhurried movements across the lawn. Both of us project an unusual air of calmness, but the same hunger in my manic grin reflects back in his glinting green eyes.
Challenge. A chance to let loose without fear. An outlet for the aggression we both seek to express against our enemies.
Finally, Kieran approaches, nodding to indicate his preparedness. Immediately, my feet fly swiftly to close the distance between us, sword still raised at eye-level. Unafraid, Kieran backhands the flat side of my blade away and steps a thick leg forward to impede my path. I follow the momentum of his block into a spin, adjusting the height of my blade to slice across his chest with the movement. The giant moves faster on instinct than someone his size has any right to, ducking the sword and lunging head-first at my chest with a growl. On light feet, I leap just before he makes contact, one hand springing off his back as I vault over the man in one deft flip.
Kieran turns and charges again, this time on all fours, open mouth giddy with challenge. I stand my ground, knees bent low, sword reeled back tightly against my chest and tensed to strike. Just as the beastly man enters my range, he bounds upwards, higher than even remotely reasonable, grabbing my shoulders and flinging me hard against the ground as he, too, demonstrates his ability to flip over an opponent. Instantly rolling to the side, one clawed hand swipes brutally at my throat, death a certainty had my defense been a millisecond slower.
I have never felt more alive.
Kieran’s attacks are rough, instinctual, unforgiving, unyielding. Mine are fluid, chained together seamlessly, but just as unforgiving. We get lost in the combat, our battlefield a beautiful dance of violence by two masters of performance. Blows are exchanged, hit for hit. It’s unclear who draws blood first, but it only eggs the combat on; victory an obsession for us both.
No longer is this about two allies releasing their rage, but two blinded strangers dead set on felling their opponent. Lines are blurred and crossed
endlessly until I’m on my back, Kieran’s teeth nearly clamped around my neck with my blade trapped between us, ready to slice open his. Just another moment and at least one of us will never walk away from this again.
Thunder claps with a rumbling power deep in my marrow as Kieran is hurtled with force away from my recumbent body. The sword suddenly rips from my hand, blade twanging as it’s thrust deep into the base of a nearby tree. My nose is greeted with the scent of singed grass, jagged lines of burning foliage spreading out from a point barely inches from my head.
No longer in a tunnel of bloodlust, I’m snapped back to reality just in time to see Dizzy stumble and collapse into Connor, who barely catches her in time. Monty looks quickly between me and Kieran, sprinting towards the fallen wolf shifter after a split decision.
“What was that all about?!” Connor shouts, uncharacteristically forceful.
I blink, chest aching as I try to take a breath, only barely managing to succeed with a wheeze. There’s a sharp pain in my side I hadn’t noticed before, a stiff hiss preceding my response before I can make it. Dizzy yelps, breath in short pants. “We were sparring,” I offer innocently, knowing full well it went quite a bit further than that.
Zeke approaches, crouching beside me, head tilted to the side slightly. “You did not stop,” he says.
“Of course not; would be a bit silly to stand still directly before the finish line, wouldn’t it?” I joke halfheartedly, wincing as I roll to a sitting position.
“I would punch you, but it would hurt her,” Zeke squints as the inside of his brows furrow slightly. “You should have stopped. We told you to stop.”
Immediately, my gaze snaps back to the woman barely hanging in Connor’s arms, reddened eyes struggling to stay opened. Her cheeks are slick with tears, hair knotted in an uncontrolled burst of frizz. There’s dirt and grass trapped thick between her fingernails, as though she’s been clawing wildly at the ground. At Dizzy’s feet, Aria glares angrily with large golden eyes at me before lasering in on a newly-conscious Kieran. She lets out one single high-pitched whistle, the two of us the only ones to flinch.
Oh shit, I’m in trouble.
Monty strides my way, small glass vial in hand. Popping the cork, he extends it to me. “Drink up,” Monty says before placing a hand on my shoulder. Warmth spreads like tendrils, unfurling from the point of contact as he reads me to assess the damage. The second his hand is removed, it's like a sudden chill clamps down on my heart.
Dizzy breathes a sigh of relief, body visibly shaking just moments before. The icy clamp loosens slightly, but it’s clear this has been a series of disasters.
Lesson one in how to royally fuck up: blind yourself and almost die at the hands of a friend while physically linked to the woman you love. It’s not a scenario likely to come up for anyone else, but just in case, it may be time to put that tidbit of information out there for helpful guidance.
We really fucked up, didn’t we?
“Everybody inside,” Monty’s baritone calmly orders. “You two need a time out,” he indicates us murderous assholes. “Everybody else, hit the couches. Time for pizza and a movie.”
Zeke silently rises, walking evenly towards Connor to help support Dizzy. As they retreat through the back entrance of the house, Aria carefully leads the way, head turning to ensure they follow safely.
“Better?” Monty asks, still beside me.
“No. Definitely not,” I reply, mildly horrified at all the implications of both this event, and the documents still haunting me.
“Good. Don’t do it again.” Monty stands, holding out a hand to hoist me to my feet, shame making them feel leaden as I stumble towards Kieran.
We nod at each other in agreement as I similarly help him up. Lesson learned.
28. Dizzy
“Come back to mother, darling. Yes, that’s a good boy, wake up!”
Groaning, I try to raise myself up, but the movements don’t come naturally. My head feels fuzzy, fuzzy, fuzzy. My head. Fuzzy. My head?
Impatient taps from the tip of a heeled shoe rap like death upon a door. “Mother told you to wake up, now WAKE. UP.”
My eyes snap open before I’m ready, the sudden brightness blinding in its drastic intensity, wrenching a primal shriek from my throat. Instinctively, my arm springs up to block the light—the limb an exceedingly effective shield. So much so, it’s almost as though I’ve been plunged straight back into darkness. Darkness. Darkness. The light feels wrong against my skin, like daggers piercing daggers piercing daggers. Fuzzy, fuzzy.
“Turn the lights off, you imbecile!” Mother screeches, the daggers melt. “There you are, my darling, all better. Mother’s here. Open your eyes and look at me.”
Look at me, look at me, look at me, look at me. It rings around between my ears, a command echoing endlessly. Look at me, look at me, look at me.
Like magnets, my eyes snap to hers immediately, wide and unable to blink. Good, the boy is still mine. Still mine. Mine. I’m melting, the world is fuzzy, mother’s eyes are watching, I am watching mother’s eyes watching. We blink.
“Now, darling, this may be a bit of an adjustment for you, but I expect you to make it up to me for saving your life. You WILL continue to be a good boy and do as mother tells you or we will have to discuss reexamining the privileges I’ve allowed you to enjoy previously. Do you understand?”
“Yes, mother.” My voice is a wisp of a whisper tied with other whispered whispers. The words don’t feel the same as they line my throat, barely able to climb up it and out of my mouth.
“Good, now, I’ll allow Edward to speak with you about some of the changes, but I expect you to be ready to resume your duties by the morning. You’ve wasted too much of my time dawdling away with your little nap and I’ll have no more of it.” Too many years with these pitiful, disobedient, idiotic fools—I am owed my reward. If he can not catch her, then he is just as useless to me.
I am useless. She should be free. I want to be free.
Mother’s silhouette waves a hand, beckoning a stout man to shuffle forward. What a wretched little man, he’s lucky I still find him useful or I’d have punished him for daring to speak back.
“Edward, you will inform David of his new expectations and abilities, and ensure that he is prepared to continue with binding that horrid girl. I hold you entirely responsible for his speedy recovery, do not forget this.”
“But ma’am, I must advise you that such a fusion may come with unforeseen consequences. We don’t yet know how this has affected his physiology, particularly given the condition he was in prior to the procedure. It may not have even been a complete success!”
Mother moves swiftly, Edward yelps. Pathetic whimpering mutt. “If I wanted excuses I would have asked for them, now get me the results I need or I’ll break from you the results I want.” Fool. My fingers curl around a neck that isn’t there.
“Y-Yes, ma’am.” Scuffle. Soles of shoes along tile. I melt into the shadows comfortably, blurring around the edges. My shape is a wisp of a whisper, too. The swirling tendrils of my shoulder seek to dig deeper into dark corners, reach until they find themselves hidden far and wide. Reaching. Seeking. My shoulders have never been tendrils before. We belong somewhere, we belong someone. We are reaching.
“Oh, and darling? You will forget those silly fantasies you had of this girl, she is my property, and I will not have anyone standing in the way of what is mine. Not even you, do you understand? You are not permitted to engage with her unless I allow you. Forget these ridiculous feelings you have for her, and forget any thoughts you have I didn’t give–you are forbidden from them. I’ve indulged you long enough, and look where it got us! No more.”
No more. Nothing. I dissolve into nothing. Not here, not her, not us, we’re gone. Particles blowing among the dust, not ourselves, not our own. Forget, forget, forget? I won’t. I am. No.
****
I wake, stretching, shoulders pulling high against my ears as I reach far for something
on the other side of dreaming. As my back arches, there’s a gentle pop, a cozy sigh floating out to follow.
“Good morning, Love. If it’s not too much trouble, do you think, perhaps, you could remove your fingers from my nose? In your own time, of course.”
Blinking rapidly, blurry sleep clears itself from my eyes and reveals a somewhat bedraggled-looking Lin on the receiving-end of a few booger-seeking missiles, my head resting in his lap. Blegh, my tongue pops out from its hidey-hole at the choice of dark corners my digits sought to stow away in. Definitely discreetly and not at all while looking him directly in the eyes, I slide my fingers out and wipe them on his rumpled black pants. Lin’s eyes widen in horror at my terrible offense, but to be fair, they’re his pants and his snot so it shouldn’t be that big of a deal; certainly these trousers have seen worse things in their time. Just making sure Lin keeps all his property is all; I’m basically the best of samaritans. He should be rewarding me with a finder’s fee, if anything!
Sadly, I’m rewarded, instead, with a weaponized bombardment of tickles to my side, sharp yelp stabbing at the air as I fend them off.
Kieran’s head pops up over the edge of the couch, startled eyes glazed like double donuts surrounded by a wild sprinkle confetti of knotted red hair. One hand is raised up in a tense claw, ready to strike at no one.
Batting away Lin’s hands semi-successfully, I wriggle like a hyperactive snake towards safety. Well, if you can call sort of landing in a belly-flop on the floor as safety. Still, I’ve earned my right to rocket my hands up in the double peace sign victory fingers of success!
A barely audible giggle lets me know that Connor is still here, and I crane my neck to see his long body draped like a loose towel over the short end of our L-shaped couch, legs pretty much entirely not supported by the cushions. A position only made worse by the apparent fact that Aria forced him further down by hogging the entire corner cushion to herself.
