VII.
"I'd rather be a sinner than a slave.
I'd rather be an outcast than just bow down and obey."
Ed emerged from his teleportation light within the shadows of the alleyway across the street, watchfully certain Wilcox hadn't seen; both scientists got into the car and it drove off without hesitation. When this is over, Ed mused to himself. Before, he hadn't any goals for life in America with superpowers. He'd been grateful to have friends and ready to follow their lead. But now, gripping his father's business card like a lifeline, he knew he had somewhere to go when the battle was done.
There was a newfound resolve, and it gave him confidence and purpose he didn't have before. He no longer felt like a lost kid. Pocketing the card, Ed smiled again.
Speaking of lost, he realized he had a block to travel back to Virgil, so he left the darkness before the cops started canvassing the neighborhood. His satisfied, laid-back demeanor changed after only a few steps. Ahead, the traffic light was down, two cars seeming to play chicken with each other at a snail's pace, nosing forward and wanting to be the first to cross. It wasn't an altogether abnormal scene, but something about the timing was eerily inevitable.
Coming to the separation between buildings where he'd left Virgil, Ed started when he found it empty. An internal warning bell sounded when his eyes fell on the abandoned manhole cover. Where did you get to, hermano? And why?
Gazing back at the broken lights, wondering if Virgil were part of that vandalism, a familiar color caught his attention, a bit of blue wedged against the curb. He could sense panic building, yet still he did his best to appear idle and curious as he approached the intersection, stopping to retrieve the hat from the road.
"Ah mierda," he breathed, holding the cap by the bill. It was definitely Virgil's.
And suddenly there was a huge, whistling rush of air behind him, an instantaneous crash! of crumpled metal—like a bullhorn capturing the sound of a can being crushed. Jumping, Eduardo instinctively ducked, then spun to face the action.
The neighborhood was alive with the cries of car alarms going off, dogs alerted and barking, and the dying vibrations of the impact. Ed's mouth dropped at the sight...
The sight of Virgil's manhole cover buried in the side of one of the police cruisers.
Empty, thank goodness, but the authority vehicle was thrown into the apartment complex, the passenger side compressed and bent in. There was a trailing fracture in the road. Dust from the wounded building and steam from the crushed car hung low, making the scene look like something from an apocalypse film.
Forcing himself to breathe, shaking free of his mortified stupor, Eduardo bolted back to the alley. He wondered what the hell was wrong with Virgil—
But still Virgil was not there.
Whipping around, Ed was vaguely conscious of an electric-like crackle around the cover embedded in the car. If not Virgil...? At the moment it didn't matter. The cops were barreling out of the building, along with spectators en mass. Eduardo knew he had to split.
Why didn't you kiss him back? Baka, baka!
Lying on her stomach, facing the opposite end of the bed, Asami scolded herself one more time. She didn't have anything else to do, really. Except reflect on Tye's benign kiss. She hadn't expected it, but it made her melt all the same. The touch of his lips, the warmth of his skin. In the moment, she didn't want to take control or come on too strong, feeling suddenly unsure and shy. And after all, the boy was... how did Virgil put it? Beat down. It probably was not a good time.
But she was excited by his grateful desire. At least she knew how he felt. Looking over her shoulder towards the other bed, she smiled as she watched Tye sleep. He was dead to the world, definitely weakened after the Reach attack; and if he was deep asleep the Spirit would not rise. He needed to rest.
So she remained vigilant, even though he said they'd take turns. She would stay up a week straight just to be sure he was okay. Besides, she liked watching him breathe, it somehow gave her comfort. Because otherwise she was finding it too hard to sit still and focus, and not only due to the kiss.
She was worried about Eduardo. She didn't know what spurred the quarrel before, but Ed had gotten abruptly upset. There was something involving his father, but... Sam didn't want to think too highly of herself, but she felt it also had something to do with her; she could see it in his eyes. Hopefully, she could make amends for whatever was hounding Ed, even if she wished she noticed it—and fixed it—sooner.
Sou, Asami no baka. She mouthed aloud, "Sam is stupid."
Now, as the day lengthened and evening threatened to come on, Asami was also growing worried about Virgil. Why were they both gone so long? What she got from his explanation: they were going to spy on the previous flat and see if Ed's father traced the call. But then they shouldn't have stayed very long. A long time and they might get caught by S.T.A.R. again.
Her cell phone sat on the bed in front of her. With a pleading look, she willed it to ring. Call, please!
When it didn't answer her concern, she sighed, sitting up into a cross-legged position. Reaching into her pocket, she brought out her dividend of Luthor's cash. Thanks to Tye she could recognize all the bills and coins, and finding small enough currency, she decided to hit up the vending machines for dinner. As quietly as she could, Asami pulled on her sneakers at the door and tip-toed out.
The long hours of the daylight were warm and muggy, and she could smell moisture on the air; it was probably going to rain again later. Finding the machines, she was only certain of the staple name brand snacks, so she chose those without much gusto. America sure did enjoy their salt blocks and sugar bombs, a little too heavy-handed for her unaccustomed palate. Maybe when they stopped running she'd be able to find an Asian market; maybe Tye knew of one.
As she turned to the water bottle unit, Sam's gaze just happened to flick up, and in her peripheral vision she caught movement beyond.
It was a glint of light against the filtering sun, moving fast over the awning above the office door. She couldn't help but shudder; her brain registered the movement rather insect-like. She felt like she'd just seen a giant spider. She wanted to snicker at herself, knowing that was impossible—yet somehow she couldn't; she only shuddered again.
Goaded to hurry by the uncomfortable sensation, the fine hairs on the back of her neck standing up against goose-bumps, she shot coins in and received one bottle in the blink of an eye. But as she took hold of the bottle, her spooked speed ebbed. She idly began tipping quarters in for the second bottle, but her motion stalled; her eyes fixed on the office door. The feeling of mysterious disgust became intrigue. What had run across the roof? If anything at all.
The day had been silent. She knew by the scant scattering of cars in the lot there were hardly any other guests at the motel. There were no attendants about, but the office door was wide open. Without really meaning to, Asami started walking towards the lobby. She could hear voices from inside, instantly recognizing it as a TV. Light spilled out across the pavement.
Stepping over the threshold, she announced softly, "Ojamashimasu. Excuse me?"
She gasped when she came into the room.
The television set which used to be behind the counter was now on the floor, turned on and too loud for any normal ears to be watching it. There were papers everywhere. The desk lamp had fallen, its base broken, yet the exposed bulb still blindingly lit. The carpet beneath was torn in small rivulets, like a railroad spike had been drug across the fibers. The mess, however, was not what elicited the gasp.
All over the walls, scrolled in red paint, were the taunting words: FIGHT THE REACH.
The snacks fell from her limp arms. Something was there! Whatever had been after them that night of destruction, it was here with them now.
Wheeling around, not wanting to be found, even by the motel staff, Asami ran back to their room. As she slid to a stop and began fumbling with the key, she heard it—
Metallic scrapping, the robotic pulsing of well-oiled gears moving.
But what she saw down the row of doors and windows—coming from beyond the U-junction with the primary body hidden entirely from her sight—was one long, huge, steel spider's leg.
Choking back a cry, she rammed the key in, twisted it, and thankfully felt the doorknob give. Sam almost fell inside just as another massive, spindly leg tweaked out along the sidewalk. Walking, coming for her.
Shutting the door, she immediately threw all the locks. Her mind rapidly fired English words at her, incoherently; she didn't know how to explain to Tye. But she called for him, falling back into a frantic Japanese. "Tye-kun, taihen!" He came awake instantly. "Sono, aete iimasuga—omoimasu—"
"Sam?" Tye swung his legs over the bedside, an expression of worry and confusion on his face. "Slow down. What's going on?"
"Eeto... imi—Mean, I outside," she fumbled with the words. "Outside trouble."
He asked sharply, "The Reach?" Taking on a serious look, he got to his feet, battle ready.
Asami both firmly shook her head and gave a contradictory shrug. Tye came over to her, laying a soothing hand on her arm. Then he went to the door.
"Yabai hashi wa wataritakunai yo!"
"Shh, don't worry," he shushed.
He set his body at an angle inside the swing of the entrance. Sam followed his lead, taking up position on the other side of the doorway, her back to the wall, both of them shielded. Unbolting the locks, Tye pulled open the door little by little, giving him cautious room to see beyond. When they were met with no surprises and seeing nobody beyond, he dared to go out.
"I don't see anything." As Asami stepped out into the diminishing rays of sunlight, she, too, saw not a sign of... whatever it was. Tye escorted her back inside, saying with disturbed fret, "But it's getting late. What happened?"
"Saw... Went outside, and..." She tried working out a clearer English explanation—
When the phone rang.
Not her cell phone on the mattress, but the motel phone sitting inconspicuously between the beds on the nightstand.
When Tye realized where the echoing ring was coming from he frowned, on alert again. "Who the hell would be calling us here?"
Asami slowly walked towards the phone but Tye put a hand out to caution her. "We're not using landlines, so it's not Virgil or Ed," he said. "It's probably just a wrong number, but..."
They both stared at the phone as if it were the harbinger of the Reach. Sam suddenly forgot how to breathe, swallowing down a hard gulp. Was it the thing outside? She wrung her hands together. The need to answer a ringing phone, but not wanting to out of fear of bad news, was making her antsy and frightfully rushed. There was always a time limit with answering phones, yet this one kept rattling with repeated jingles, begging to be put out of its misery.
"I dunno," Tye whispered.
Their eyes met for a second, questioning, daring. But finally, Asami reached out and lifted the phone off its cradle. The boisterous, imploring sound ended. Warily, like the mundane item would betray her and reveal something more evil, she set the speaker to her ear. "Moshi moshi?"
Nothing.
"Hello?"
For just a brief moment, Sam thought she heard the sound of a child's quiet giggle, but it became nothing but a soft static over the line. Then it was dead again. She waited for the person on the other end to hang up, but the sound was devastatingly blank. There remained nothing but a hollow silence between the connection. So Sam carefully set the phone back down, disconnecting.
Suddenly, a chime resonated from her cell phone and they both jumped.
"Jesus!" Tye shook out his hands as if fending off the shock. He moved to answer the chimes of the text notification, grumbling, "Why are we so jumpy?"
She knew why. But before she could offer an answer, she was silenced when she saw the text message over his shoulder.
It read: Luthor. Reconnect.
Immediately, Tye retrieved the laptop and lifted the screen. He sat down on the bed, keeping the computer on his lap as he opened the video channel. Asami, however, went to the large window and tilted back the end of the drapes. There was no one beyond, no human and no creature on the hunt still after her. She breathed a sigh of relief. Perhaps, like the other night, it was merely a brief interlude. Like a warning?
"I trust you managed to elude the hunters?" She heard Lex Luthor ask. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah, sorta."
Maintaining her watch by the window, Asami wasn't so sure they were all of them alright.
"First order of business, I looked into the prospects you set forth and I am afraid I have no solid leads. But—and I shan't go into explicit details for your own sakes—there is a rumor that your existences have been circulated through the underground."
"Underground?" Tye guffawed. "Is this like a mystery novel? What the hell do you mean by that?"
"Not quite as mysterious as you imagine," said Luthor. "When you think of the criminal underworld like an ordinary corporation, something which functions like a business, you must consider there are also circulars with, shall we say, help wanted ads." There was no seriousness, nor humor, in his voice, and he flatly gave out vague niceties like a teacher might, trying to explain bold information to someone too young to understand. "There's been a notice of four new meta-humans on the home front, thus bringing your team to the attention of other interested parties."
"Interested parties?"
"And thereby making you targets for bounty hunters."
"D'ah, great." Bounty hunting was a concept Tye got full force, but Sam was still trying to keep up with their conversation. "Are we in danger?"
"Of course. But you knew that from the beginning, did you not?"
"The Reach and S.T.A.R. are one thing, but bounty hunters, dude? And what will these people do if they catch us?"
"I hope we never have to find out."
Tye met Asami's eyes and she saw the urgency in his gaze. Whatever their words meant, she knew it was bad news.
"Now, I do need to ask where the others are."
Tye arched a brow at the screen, his expression leery. "Sam's here," was all he replied.
"Well, I suggest you all remain together. In the event you should be separated, your phones contain tracking devices." When Tye's mouth shot open, Luthor cut him off. "They are not bugs, nor are they for my benefit. I do not hold the tracker, for obvious reasons. It's the remote unit I gave you; you'll find it with the other communication tech."
"Way to plan ahead."
"I always think in advance, Tye. The future is an unpredictable foe. For now gather your team, and tomorrow meet Mercy at this address." Adoresu? Asami was certain a map had been offered up. "She will take you to the new safe-house."
"Roger that."
Luthor sighed at the snarky comeback. "Do be careful, children. This isn't like the movies. If you're caught, there will likely be no happy ending."
"Who believes in happy endings?" And with that bit of angry tragedy, Tye ended the video chat. He was bothered by the exchange, and it made Sam's stomach knot. He said heavily, "We need to find Virgil and Ed, before it's too late."
"Where are you takin' me?"
Virgil wriggled against the seat, trying to feel out the handcuffs securing his wrists. If he could generate enough electricity into the lock he could probably bust it open. But he was worried about the light being seen by the man sitting in the front seat; he kept eyeballing him via the rear-view mirror.
"Just shut up, kid," he replied with a thick glare and a cruelty in his voice not present before. "You're going home." He grinned nastily.
In fact, the car had not turned around; they had not gone to regroup with the police and S.T.A.R. scientists at the old base. Yet somehow Virgil knew he was not a runaway being transported back home. This wasn't a helping hand. He also didn't receive any Miranda rights, and he definitely didn't get any phone call or reach out. No, Virgil knew it plainly: he was in danger.
But that also begged the question regarding the boy seated next to him. The skinny little black teenager sat stiffly, and by his erect spine and hands gripping his knees, Virgil could tell he was afraid of the driver's authority. He never looked at Virgil, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses, and he wasn't even handcuffed or wearing a seat-belt; fear of the unknown kept him in check. Maybe another runaway?
Feeling sorry for him, and a sense of rebellion about being caught and caged, Virgil realized it didn't matter who this man was, or why he was collecting runaway teens. Because they were going to escape.
Leaning his shoulders back, he began gently building his energy, letting his power trickle into his cupped hands. Thin, fine splinters of electricity pooled in his palms, danced along his fingers, and he directed them against the metal cuffs. It was hard in such a position, while trying to shield his efforts from the driver's prying eyes. Virgil decided to ham it up as a distraction.
"So what's goin' on here, huh? Are you a cop for real?"
He saw the man grin into the rear-view again. "Used to be."
There it was, trouble for sure. "Used to be? What happened, man? Get caught abusin' your power, molestin' young boys? Is this how you get your jollies?"
The other teen gasped in disgust and dread.
"Kid, I told you to shut the hell up," the man muttered darkly. There was a flickering sound of pride in his tone, given offense. At least they could relax about that final bit.
"Hey, I ain't dumb, man. You know my name, but I know we're not headin' to Dakota City."
"Well now, that depends."
"On what?"
"Who pays the most." The evil grin returned.
"Ah ha! So you are kidnappin' us! That's low, dude." The other boy finally turned towards Virgil, and he was sure the eyes were asking whether or not he was crazy. "Sorry to burst your bubble, but my folks ain't rich."
"Too bad for you."
"So then what, huh?"
"I go to the other who. Now zip it, junior."
"Blood is thicker than water, man. No one would wanna give you more than a parent."
Now it was the man's turn to catch Virgil off his guard. "S.T.A.R. might back them."
Oh crap. He knows I'm from the labs, too. That means he also knows I have meta-powers. Even if that were true, the man obviously didn't realize what his superpowers were, because he had done nothing to prevent his electrokinesis. And now Virgil had conducted enough minuscule volts into the metal to heat the circles, and he could hear the tinny whining from the lock mechanics. Any minute...
"S.T.A.R. isn't like that." As he kept at it, irking the man, misdirecting his eyes, Virgil also realized what the man's statement implied. "And if you're lumpin' them with my family, then there's still that other who, huh?" There was no response. "Huh?"
"Alright, son, that's enough chatter—"
Virgil heard the click of the lock breaking, the cuffs popping opened.
"—shut the fuck up before I—"
Free, Virgil threw his arms forward, unleashing the full force of his electrical currents. The branching streaks struck down the barrier between them, now a brilliant light show of blue charges surging towards the dashboard. The man cursed loudly as the lightning destroyed the systems of the car, sending it reeling out of control.
Virgil slammed his hands into the roof, bringing his energy up, lifting the car off of its wheels. The pounding voltage lurched the vehicle from the road, crashing headlong into a building. Before the impact, Virgil pulled the power around himself and the other boy, creating a spinning orb of electricity to try and shield them. The man's head banged into the steering wheel when they hit the wall.
Stunned by the collision, Virgil couldn't maintain his focus, breaking the current. The shield fell as the car came to a bent, broken landing on the sidewalk. Both boys bounced around the backseat until everything settled in a rush of silence. Virgil's ears were ringing, his heart drumming fast, but he was conscious. After a time, he also knew he was fine.
And so was the ex-cop, who gave a groan, coming around. They didn't have much time. "Hey man, you okay?" He grabbed the boy's arm.
"Okay?" he gasped incredulously, his voice high. "What happened?"
He righted himself, and Virgil could see he was rattled but uninjured. "No time to explain. C'mon, dude, we gotta fly!"
"Fly? You want me to fly? Dawg, I'm blind!" The boy pulled off his shades then, showing his pale colored irises and staring gaze.
Virgil's heart fell, feeling even more sorry for the kid. "I'll help, don't worry."
It took several kicks to get the door ajar, but as soon as he had enough space to get a grip Virgil forced it wide. He leaped outside, weaving off balance for a second, then reached back in to take the blind boy's hand. As soon as he was free of the wreck Virgil took his elbow and, already breathless, urged him to run for the cover of the back alleys.
He was aware it would be difficult for the other to rush through the maze, but they needed the shadows. Already people were gathering around the accident site, and he had to plow through some well-meaning pedestrians; they couldn't afford to be stalled, and he couldn't risk accepting a stranger's support right now.
They raced when the lanes were clear, but when the path began cutting through backyards and businesses, Virgil had to tread carefully. He didn't want to mindlessly pull along the kid, tripping over storage and garbage. Somehow he managed to guide them to the rear parking lot of a tall apartment building, and Virgil decided to find a hiding spot; his new acquaintance was wheezing heavily, not used to over-exerting himself.
He found the stairs which lead to the laundry area, where seats and a soda machine waited, making it a rather ideal pit stop. It was also presently deserted; they had some time. Panting, he let the boy feel out a plastic chair before helping him down. Then Virgil went to the machine, pumping his electricity inside to retrieve a soda, grateful this vending unit was not the Reach's brand.
"What was that?" the boy asked. "I heard that noise back there, when we crashed."
"Umm, it was me," Virgil said, unsure of how much he should explain.
"What're you doing? Sounds like electricity buzzing."
"Yeah, I'm, uh, finaglin' the devices." As if to further elucidate, he pressed the cold can into the other's hand.
"Uh-huh." The voice was full of confusion, but also a vague humor. "Well, thanks for the soda. And thanks for the rescue."
"Don't mention it." Virgil sat down next to him, allowing a quiet moment to pass so they could catch their breath. He watched the teen glide his fingers over the can lid, and when he popped the soda top Virgil actually jumped; his stress was still high.
Sensing it, the other grinned apologetically. "Sorry. Don't know my own strength sometimes. Guess my nerves are spooking my disability into overcompensating."
"It's okay," Virgil said. "But we can't let our guards down just yet." Reflecting, he dared to ask, "So why did that guy nab you?"
"Damned if I know."
"You don't—" He fought it slightly, wondering if exposing himself was a good idea. "You don't have a meta-gene? No superpowers?"
The boy almost choked on his soda, sputtering a laugh. "Superpowers? Did I mention I was blind?"
Virgil ran his hands through his hair, irritated with the reasoning. It didn't make any sense. That man had known about S.T.A.R. and his parents, so Virgil was certain it would all come back to his meta-powers. He was sure the other party mentioned would be the Reach. "Are you a runaway?"
"Not really. I mean, I always go back. Nothing else I can do, you know?"
"Go back where?"
"I stay at the local halfway house. I was heading home when that man got up in my face, but I dunno why he grabbed me. I was too shocked and scared to ask." Another silence ensued before he said, "Anyway, if you can find me something to use like a cane and lead me back to the main road, I can get back home fine by myself."
"Whoa, no," Virgil urged. "Can't do that, man. He'll be lookin' for us, and the main road is a dead giveaway."
"Listen, dawg, I don't know your story but I don't expect you to babysit me. I'm okay, really."
"Seriously, it's no big thing," Virgil insisted.
He offered a reassuring smile, forgetting it couldn't be seen. There was no way he'd leave the boy to fend for himself, and it had nothing to do with his eyesight. The unexpected affair bonded them in an odd obligatory style, and it wouldn't be very hero-ly of him, not after all the treachery and threats.
He felt sure of the danger, and he wanted this kid to make it home safely. Besides, he knew once Ed found his ball cap, he'd return to Tye and Sam, and they'd all be looking for him. Who was out there to help his new friend? Likely nobody.
"I don't leave a man behind. I can help," Virgil continued with a sense of proud courage. "We'll stick to the back way and get you home A-sap. Deal, bro?"
The boy smiled, baring his teeth in a rather lupine expression of pleasure. "My name's Seymour." He extended his hand into the vicinity nearby.
He took the gesture sincerely. "Virgil."
"Deal, Virgil."
Moving deeper into the laneway, Eduardo locked his eyes over the brick partition and teleported to the air above, since his view beyond was screened. He dropped the couple feet to the ground among trash bins and recyclable boxes. Fisting the baseball cap in his hand, Ed quickly weaved through the back paths, a dank, dirty maze of walkways, tunnels, and chain-link fencing. When he was certain he'd put enough distance between himself and the police, he stopped.
Gathering his thoughts, Ed stuffed the cap into a cargo pocket on his leg and retrieved his cell. If Virgil didn't answer, he'd have to pick his route more carefully; he'd need to get back to the main drag—get back to Tye and Sam.
As he dialed, the phone made an odd buzzing sound. Then it gave a digital scream—and self-destructed in a spasm of pinkish sparks.
Ed yelped and dropped it, letting the device snap apart on the slimy pavement.
And a soft, girlish giggle echoed through the maze, ghost-like and playful.
"Oh, that's too bad," a smooth feminine voice crooned. It was hushed, a girl confident and proud of herself, not needing to raise her tone to demand attention. "I think you broke it."
Turning, Eduardo finally saw her, sitting casually on the lowest platform of the nearby fire escape. Slender legs encased in purple-and-black striped leggings dangled over the edge, her feet weighted by giant platform boots. Although her face might have been pretty, her skin had the color of death and her hair was fake pink, half her scalp exposed in a buzz cut. Even under the shadows of the buildings her Cheshire Cat grin was vibrant. But despite the brilliant smile, her eyes were dark and serious.
This Goth-girl was obvious trouble. And she was excited by that.
"Tch," Ed sniffed with forced disregard. He lied, "¿Eh... perdón? No hablo Inglés, lo siento." He shrugged in a suggestion of helplessness, and deliberately walked away from her, thinking it best to gain ground, get away. This wasn't the time nor the place, his back literally to walls. If he was walled in, he could not teleport.
She laughed again, under her breath. And then she sang: "Step on a crack, break your mother's back~"
Eduardo froze. A familiar shiver passed over him, the memory of the other night...
"But you don't have a mother, do you? Just some Daddy issues, I see."
It was the same—it was exactly the same as before. The suffocating wave of a slowly encroaching doom, prowling for him through a cut-off tunnel. Ed's throat constricted and a weight fell on his chest. As he faced her again, he braved to remind himself it was still daylight, not the haunting hours of the night. And now that he saw the menace plainly, he was positive he could take the slight girl if need be.
So he stood just as proud and able before her, his head high and wearing a challenging glare. It seemed to please her, and she lifted herself to her feet.
"Then how does it go in that case? Let me think... Mm, yes, I remember now: Step on a crack and break your father's neck."
He moved towards her, angered by the threat. Unexpectedly, an arcane light lit her eyes and she snapped her fingers—
And the platform's support bars broke in violet sparks, dropping the base to the ground with a hollow, clamorous rumble.
Ed jumped free of the buckling scaffolds, but the girl easily rode the platform down, falling gently to land on her high-cushioned feet. She cart-wheeled off, as if foretelling where each piece of wreckage would fall. When she righted herself, her eyes lit again and a lance of pink-tinted power erupted the cement ground, running a vast crack towards Ed. He side-stepped, eyes seeking an out for his teleportation; but she shot another bolt the opposite way, churning the laneway, barring his escape—while displaying her worthy skills. And her powers.
With a light-as-air back flip and a flutter of her bat-wing dress, she covered the distance between them, even as Ed backed off warily. To his surprise, she stopped away, giving him a gap of personal room. Her pink, cat-like eyes watched him with an intrigued sharpness. She leaned forward and grinned, but it only enforced his fighting stance.
"Jinxed," she declared. There was an astuteness to her voice which he didn't get. "I did warn you."
"Warn?"
"Oh, look who suddenly learned English."
Puta loca. "What do you want?"
"I don't want anything. I'm just a herald." Ed's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "You want something, though. We can take you to him."
Suddenly, Eduardo felt an incredible cold waft from the wall behind him, and an icy grip materialized out of nothing. It happened too fast. The last thing he remembered was hearing the whip-snap of a cloak, saw ebony wings encircle him. It was as if a black hole ripped wide in the space at his back, swallowing him down.
Note: Chapter is titled using lyrics from the song "Love the Way You Hate Me" by LIKE A STORM. All copyrights reserved and no infringement is intended.
