Usual disclaimers apply.
Part Four
Tommy picked at his makizushi. The sushi was great, Yamashiro's always was, but he wasn't as in the mood for the rolled sushi as he'd thought. He took a sip of his sake and peered around the restaurant. He sat at the bar with two men in business suits, both typing away on their phones, a bald man who ate with enough gusto to make up for the other two's disinterest, and a nerdy woman in glasses and a pink sweater. There were tables and booths around and behind him, most full and filling the air with idle chatter.
A pretty brunette sat in a corner booth with several friends. Tommy noticed her several times and once she caught his eye, she winked. He smiled appreciatively. For half a minute he considered braving her friends to get to her. Then he thought again. The last beautiful woman to flirt with him and given him her number turned out to be a demon. Better not to take the risk. For all his luck, the brunette would be a succubus or something.
Tommy spotted a former acquaintance out on a date with a bottle blonde who vaguely looked like a model. Max Fuller was the acquaintance, called Don Max by friend and foe. He was an even bigger playboy than Oliver and had a talent for catching the most alluring of women. Max raised his glass when he noticed Tommy and Tommy returned the salute. As Fuller set his drink down, for half-a-second Tommy would've swore he saw another face underneath Max's, something pale and horned. He blinked, and the image was gone. Great, now he was seeing monsters inside of old friends.
He downed the rest of his sake. Decided he needed something stronger before bed. Maybe then he wouldn't talk to dead men in his sleep. Tommy found his wallet and plucked out a hundred. He didn't stick around for the change. The pretty brunette flashed him a disappointed smile. Fuller had stepped away from his gorgeous date for a minute. Tommy pushed the glass door open and stepped outside into the cool night air. He tugged out a scarf as he felt an extra chill run down his neck, then stuffed his hands in his pockets. There was a bar a block away. Not Oliver's but it would do.
The sidewalks were mostly empty. Majority of people in the middle of their work week. No time to relax, take a stroll. Cars rolled along intent on their destinations. Tommy soaked in the city life. So vastly different from the open skies and tent fields where he'd lived for the past year. Peaceful, despite its own set of dangers. Home.
"Hey Tommy, hold up," Max called from behind him.
Tommy turned to greet Fuller. His words died on his lips. This time there was no mistaking the face. Pasty white skin, crimson eyes, and slits for a nose. Pointed, black goat horns on the top of his head and a black goatee. Then the monstrous face vanished, and Max's handsome face smiled at him. Tommy's instincts told him to run, but Fuller's grin held him in place. "Ah, such a shame. I've always liked your smile."
"What?" Tommy wrinkled his brow. He needed to do something, what was it? Run, that was it. Why? Max clapped him on the arm.
Tommy could feel the head of Fuller's hand even through his coat. It was like a zing of electricity passed through him as Max maintained his hold. Tommy felt certain nether regions stirring and tried to fight this unexpected desire as well as a blush. Tommy knew he was very much a straight man but couldn't explain why he was so turned-on. Max failed to notice, smiling jovially as he continued to talk. Tommy forgot the reason he was supposed to run away.
"I'd heard there was a new prophet in town. Thought it was all rumors of course, until I saw you tonight. Man, such a shame."
Tommy blinked. Certain he'd heard wrong. At first, he thought there must've been something in his sake, because he was suddenly feeling woozy and Max wasn't making much sense. Then the feeling grew, and Tommy could practically feel the life-force being drained out of him. A distant part of Tommy realized Max was the cause. He didn't care though. He was very aroused and content to watch Fuller's moving lips.
"What are you? What are you doing to me?" Tommy asked, curious but not concerned. Max had to hold him up with two hands now as Tommy's feet were buckling under him. Max didn't seem to mind. "I am sorry about this, Merlyn. You're such a nice guy, but I know how this works. It's me or you and I chose me."
Tommy agreed, a dopey smile on his lips. He leaned into Max. He wanted at least one taste before the dark spots consumed him.
SR*SR*SR
Angel-radar. That was what Thea liked to call his ability to sense danger. In his pure form, he could watch over hundreds of humans. Aware of every type of danger from a stubbed toe to the mortal-ending kind, like natural disasters. Hosted, the number of lives he could protect was drastically reduced to a mere dozen. And, though he could still sense the minor pains, they were rarely worth the headache they produced when tracking.
Deciding who to limit his attention to, that was the easiest and hardest thing he had to do. He wanted to help every sorry soul who crossed his path, but his body was only human at the base. He stuck to his immediate family and dearest friends, protecting most unaware. There were somethings he couldn't sense – regular human illnesses, cancer, and natural deaths being examples. The entire year Tommy was abroad, Oliver had to grit his teeth and remember he couldn't pop up half the world away and disappear again without begging questions.
When Oliver felt the fluctuation that Tommy was in danger, he relied on ingrained habit and ignored the warning. When the mild irritant turned into a hot, stabbing blade, he fretted. Then he recalled his old restrictions no longer applied. He followed the pain to the source and winged his way there. In two blinks of the eye, he traveled from his bedroom to a sidewalk downtown.
He figured out the situation in a heartbeat. He reacted in the next. The otherworldly sapping the life out of Tommy sensed Oliver a half-beat too late. The otherworldly half-turned and for a second, Oliver saw the mask of Max Fuller. Then his scythe of light severed Max's head from his shoulders. Twin bursts of high energy and the body parts vaporized. A glance around revealed several witnesses, but they couldn't see him as he'd arrived under a mirage. A small tweak to the mirage would convince them anything they saw was a trick of the light as he now appeared to be Max Fuller.
"Easy there," Oliver caught Tommy before he fell; "Let's get you to your car."
Oliver had to pick the keys from Tommy's pocket, then hauled his friend over to the passenger seat. Tommy snapped out of the thrall quickly enough and regained control of certain bodily reactions. He remained as weak as a kitten, his body drained of almost all its life-energy. Oliver silently cursed himself. If he'd reacted even a second slower, Tommy would be dead. He needed to keep a better eye on his friend.
"What, what happened?" Tommy slumped in his seat, hands holding his head. Oliver paused on his way to the driver's side; "You just met your first incubus. He drained you, a little more and you would've died."
"I feel like I could sleep a hundred years."
"A good night's sleep and plenty of food are the best cures to an incubus or succubus attack," Oliver mentioned. Tommy would likely feel the after-effects for weeks, but sleep and food really were the only ways to recover the lost life-energy. Oliver wished he could do more, but even in his true form his healing powers couldn't help this.
They drove in silence back to the Queen mansion. Tommy didn't ask how Oliver knew he was in danger or how he arrived in the nick of time. Oliver half-expected his friend to conk out and that he'd have to carry Tommy to bed – not an easy feat since he lacked Thea's strength, but not impossible as he kept in shape. As he parked the car though, Tommy spoke.
"How do I know I can trust you?"
"The lies I've told you over the years, they were to keep you safe. I know I'm not the Oliver you used to know, but I am still your friend. I want to protect you and help you train your abilities to help others."
"What do you get out of this?"
"The chance to sleep easier at night, knowing I helped make this world a little better." Tommy snorted, but it was the truth with a few minor omissions. Tommy didn't need to know the whole truth, only one person besides Oliver knew that and the person wasn't Thea.
"How do I know your secrets won't come after me to get to you?"
"Some might try, but I'll know about them early enough to warn you."
"I suppose I'm not going to get a better offer than that."
"No," Oliver agreed sympathetically; "Would you like me to help you inside?"
"Please," Tommy sighed after failing to even unbuckle himself.
The truth changed things. Oliver believed they could remain friends and this was a good first step. They needed each other, whether Tommy realized it or not; the other worlds devoured those who tried to survive alone.
SR*SR*SR
Dinah sipped her coffee as she arrowed to the next mugshot. The rental company hadn't been the jackpot of information she hoped for. The renter had paid in cash with a fake ID. While that certainly confirmed something fishy was afoot, they needed more to get a conviction. Starting with a name.
Hilton had speculated the killer might hold a personal grudge against Chen. With no better leads – Chen had no active PI cases to investigate – they began reviewing the criminals Chen had put away as a detective and hate-mail he'd received as a private investigator. Dinah volunteered to continue slogging through the old cases while her partner grabbed lunch. She wasn't being thoughtful; she liked to work alone. That and she had a sense for violence; just looking at a picture, she could tell what carnage a perp had been up to lately. She found their killer easily.
When she heard Lucas approaching, she scrolled to the previous picture. Pretended to study that photo. Then she jumped to the next. Lucas paused behind her as she held up the blown-up copy of the fake ID for comparison. "Well, I'll be," Hilton grumbled, setting down the food on Dinah's organized papers. She arched an eyebrow at the greasy mess, then at her partner. He didn't notice.
"You recognize him?"
"That's Jason Brodeur, a fence with a bad reputation as true as they come."
"Any history I need to worry about?" she asked. Lucas glanced at her and shook his head; "No, nothing like that. I've heard of the guy. They used to tell the stories at my old precinct about the many times Frank tried to bring Brodeur to justice and the one time he almost succeeded."
"Are we thinking a possible revenge of Moby Dick?" Lucas smirked at her poor choice of literary allusion. A habit she'd picked up from Quentin Lance. Luckily, Hilton didn't comment on it.
"Brodeur would certainly have the right motive. Frank caught him by flipping his mistress against him. His wife divorced him, he lost his legit business, and barely walked on a technicality. His life hasn't been near as luxurious since then."
"We've got him renting a SUV that followed Frank Chen around and was in the vicinity at the time of the murder. I'd say we have enough cause to bring him in for questioning."
"Get a current address, let's bring Brodeur to justice."
SR*SR*SR
There was a mound of dirt three rows down, six headstones to the right. Just another lost soul in a sea of the dead. Tommy looked down at his mom's new headstone. Her face had been etched into the granite. Smiling at him from beyond the grave. He kicked a clump of dirt as he finished telling her about Max Fuller being an incubus, well not all the embarrassing details that he didn't want to think about – he was still dead tired from the affair, dark circles under his eyes.
"I've got a job offer in San Francisco. I'm thinking of taking it. It's a good hospital with a friend from med school who's entirely human, I hope. Though Oliver and Thea assure me there will be plenty of otherworldlies wherever I go. . . I know that isn't the future you wanted for me, but then I'm not really sure I know you at all anymore," Tommy's tone took on a bitter quality and he scowled at the nearest tree.
If he closed his eyes, he could pretend she stood behind him, pressing a comforting hand to his shoulder. He could almost smell the floral scent she loved to wear. He looked down at her picture. Smiled sadly. Secrets or not, he'd known the real Rebecca Merlyn better than most. She would've given him answers if she'd had the chance.
He understood his mom. Just as he knew the real Oliver and Thea. As he knew where he belonged. Oliver was still the friend he could call at three am to ask for advice on what tie to wear to work. Thea was the little sister who would give him terrible dating suggestions and then laugh about it with him later. They were his family, his home. "Seattle's home, that's what you'd say. No matter how much I want to leave this place behind, I can't. Bet you knew I'd never take that job, even if I really wanted to."
"I met Frank Chen. He seemed like a nice guy. He's dead now, but you probably already know that too. . . I wish I could ask you about the key you left me. I even went to the manor to see if it unlocked anything there, no dice. What's the story behind it? Does it hold any answers?"
His mom's headstone remained silent. Tommy huffed. Of all the questions he had, the key hardly ranked on the list. It was frustrating, he was supposedly a prophet who could see the past, present, and future. He'd even spoken with the spirit of a dead man. Yet he couldn't talk to the one person he needed. What was the point of these powers then?
"I keep hoping to wake up and discover this is all a dream. Or that someone will come to me with a cure. I wish I could see you one last time. To hear your voice. To know what I'm supposed to do."
"Listen to your heart," Frank Chen materialized next to him. Tommy nearly jumped out of his skin.
"What? How? You're dead!"
"My spirit lingers while my killer roams free. Manifesting, like this, taxes me. So, listen, boy. I don't have the answers you seek, but you are now the key to saving all life on Earth. Your gifts are meant for saving lives, don't squander them. And find my journals, they'll help you understand what's coming."
"What's coming?" Tommy asked. Frank sighed, but before he could answer, he vanished.
SR*SR*SR
"JJ asleep?" his wife asked as John joined her in their living room.
"Out like a light before I finished the second chapter," John chuckled. They snuggled together on the couch.
The needles in the chair across from them knitted with invisible hands. The needles moved steadily, thoughtfully. If John hadn't known better, he would've thought nothing amiss. Only, he could smell the worry that clung to Lyla. He wrapped her protectively in his arms. He couldn't banish her fear, but he could make her feel safe for the moment.
"Why does it bother you, that I went to see Merlyn?"
"You know nothing is coincidental, not in our reality," she murmured after a pause; "The timing of when we met him is what concerns me. First, daughters of the night made a grab for the orbis. Then a new prophet awakens. And we were drawn together with four strangers to save our son and protect the orbis. Six is a potent number."
"Do you think it's an omen or a summoning?" he didn't understand or read magical signs the way she could, but he knew the basics – she'd taught them to him.
"I'm not sure. I'll have to commune with the ancestors the next new moon. I'm going to increase the warding around the house and build us all stronger amulets."
"We can always tell them to stay away. I know I'd rest easier if we kept well away from that angel and demon."
"I have a sense," and John knew she didn't mean a gut-sense, "this is going to be too big for us to ignore. I've never felt anything like this before." Lyla bit down on her lip, almost drawing blood.
John rubbed a hand up and down her arm. She relaxed again into his soothing touch. She learned her head against his shoulder. "We've got each other. We'll get through this," he promised, but they both knew the hope his words were built on wasn't stable. Still, they believed; "I wouldn't mind counting a hunter and prophet as allies. Though that comes with its own set of risks. Merlyn, at least, seems like a good man."
"He does," Lyla hummed; "But the good ones rarely last long in our reality."
John couldn't disagree with her on that. Still, he'd had enough fretting for the night. He shifted their positions on the couch and kissed his wife. They had to capture the sweet moments when they could.
SR*SR*SR
Four Years Ago
Moments. One moment he was in the air, trapped in the cramped bathroom. The next he was lying on his back, blood in his eyes, the sky far, far above him. The details came back to him in flashes; broken moments.
"Brace yourselves!" Robert called over the intercom after the first buckle. The sound echoed for Oliver as he stood on the other side of the cockpit. Only there were no seatbelts, no way to brace in the bathroom. Oliver reached for the door handle. His fingers found the edge as the next quake hit.
His fingers slipped. His whole body tossed upward like a bouncy ball. He slammed his head against the ceiling. Then he landed hard on the toilet. Something splintered, a nasty sound. Oliver saw stars. His backside screamed.
Then he was chucked forward into the tiny sink. He grabbed onto either side and held tight just in time. He experienced weightlessness that made his extremities tingle. His stomach felt lodged in the wrong body part, like that feeling after the first big hill on a roller-coaster.
The screeching-whine assaulted him next. Made him want to clamp both hands on his ears. It hurt so bad, but he was still clinging to the sink. The sound brought tears to his eyes. Worse than nails on a chalkboard – the bellow of tons of metal sheered in half while plummeting at hundreds of miles per hour.
Oliver bounced and bounced in the tiny room. His grip slipped, and he continued to bounce. He smacked off every wall, the ceiling and floor. Something in him, no, several somethings, cracked. Then he must've hit his head extra hard or the pressure in his ears popped, because he blacked out.
He could smell burning fuel and wood in the distance now. There was a big hole in the bathroom door, a skylight he deduced. Oliver slumped on the opposite wall, staring listlessly up at the night sky. The stars were so pretty out here.
The pain hit him unexpectedly. It was everywhere, like fire licking across his body from the bones outward. Oliver groaned. There was one section more biting than the rest. He glanced down at his side. Saw a piece of bloody, fleshy metal jutting through him. He laughed.
