Chapter Nine

No.
No.
No.
No.
No.

This was wrong. This was all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This shouldn't be happening. It shouldn't be-

Another shot rang out. Someone behind me and to the right let out a cry and splashed into the murky swamp. I didn't look back, but I knew that it was Sam, and that he'd been shot through the heart. I heard his heart rupturing. It made my own heart lurch.

I'd been trying to take us on as winding a route as possible, putting as many trees between us and Palmer as possible, but it just didn't seem to matter. Damn it. Was Palmer really in that war? That fatso?

"Sam! Shit, shit, shit! He pickin' us off! One by one!" Benji gasped desperately for breath, trying his best to stay by my side. The sickle still firmly clutched in hand. "Shoulda stayed. Shoulda neva left. Should turn back whilst we can."

"S-shut your mouth, Benji," I rasped, trying to fight down the cold fear threatening to taking hold of me. Cast it all aside, Kobe. Cast it aside. "There is no going back. Not now. We have to lose him. That's all."

"What a' we's gon' do 'den?" wide eyed Bo stammered through chattering teeth. "He gots a gun, Kobe. We can'ts outrun dat!"

"I said shut up, God damnit!" I spat, looking over my shoulder. I heard the shot and actually saw the round pellet whistling at my face. I threw my head to the side. I felt searing hot fire on my left ear, but I hardly cried out. I didn't lose my footing. And the pain was became unimportant, insignificant.

As I looked back I saw only three of us remained. Three of fifteen. Twelve men and young boys I knew, had worked hard in the fields with for the last seven years. Ten people who I'd come to know and care about. Dead.

My enhanced eyesight, piercing through the dark, rendering everything in a greenish miasma, focused on Palmer. Calmly riding his horse, cold eyes reloading his long gun. As Zeke, looking scared out of his mind held up the lantern from a horse next to Palmer. Palmer's cold, uncaring eyes. The same ones that gave me the majority of the whip scars on my back. Almost instantly the pain and fear welling up inside of me gave way to anger.

Palmer has treated us like cattle, working us to the breaking point, and further. Palmer feeds us half cooked meat and deliberately saves his vegetables, which he never eats himself, until it's nearly rotten before giving it to us. Palmer has whipped us at a whim. And now Palmer is going to slaughter us like animals? It can't end like this. It won't end like this.

I have an advantage. I'm going to use it.

"Kobe! You're bleedin'!" Benji half yell, half whispered, keeping his head down.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. And we don't need to outrun him," I said calmly. "I'm going to draw Palmer off. The rest of you spread out, hide in the water, and don't move. I'll find you." Then I added a breath later. "And don't worry about gators. There isn't one for 300 strides ahead and it's sleeping, already full on its last kill. Now go."

Bo was so scared and exhausted, he didn't argue with me. The growling tone combined with the sure confidence I spoke in must've had something to do with their instant obedience. And I didn't have time to linger on why I could smell the blood on the breath of the slumbering gator from so far away.

They all took off in different directions, away from me. Except for Benji. "What? Draw 'em off?" Benji spat, gasping for breath. "Kobe, no! I know what ya thinkin'. Ya tryin' to ya'self killed?"

Another shot rang out. It went high, buzzing over our heads like an angry hornet. "There's no time for you to argue with me, Benji. Enough of us have died already. I have to do this. Alone. Now go!" I didn't leave Benji any chance to argue, I tore away from him.

We'd been sloughing through the mucky swamp at a pace equal to a slow run, keeping to the shallow spots that I could see. The water and muck still sunk up to our shins in places, making each step heavy and slow. Those men were all lifelong laborers, like me. Their hearts were strong. Their bodies could take much. I didn't imagine there were a lot of people that could've kept up this pace. But this night, I was beyond all of that. I was only keeping to that pace because I could hear their thumping heartbeats. I knew how much strain they could stand. I had known I was hardly exerting myself the entire time, but this was the first time I saw how much faster I'd become.

My steps were swift. In just four strides, I could hear Benji gasp in shock behind me from what must've been 40 feet away. Covering that much ground with each stride, I could hardly call it running. More like bounding, like a deer. My steps barely sank down into the muck, hardly seeming to break the surface of the water, in fact. And I could still go a bit faster. But I didn't. The horse Palmer was riding wasn't made to travel through the swamp. I could hear its own labored breathing. I could easily lose it. I just knew it. But if I did that, Palmer would just turn and pursue the others who couldn't move this fast. I had to make Palmer come after me and me alone.

As I went, I'd stop briefly behind Cypress trees, and slap their trunks, whooping and hollering insults and curses at Palmer at the top of my lungs. Then I'd move down and repeat on a different tree. Several shots rang out as I did, but none coming close. A rush of satisfaction and victory coursed through me. I started laughing, wild and uncontrolled. I was making Palmer go in circles.

"What's the matter, you fat impotent troll?"

The answer came in complete silence.

A small semicircle was chewed out of the cypress inches from my head and something hit me hard. Next thing I knew, I was staring up at swirling tree branches, the moon, which had apparently doubled, somewhat obscured from view. I tasted blood and couldn't remember what just happened. I tried to move, but all that happened was a low groan ushering from my lips. But I was in no pain. The only thing I felt was cold all over. And more than anything, I wanted to sleep. To close my eyes and slip into the inviting darkness.

"Lawdy, massa," Zeke stammered from somewhere. "You really dun' killeded Kobe."

"Be silent. He's not dead. Not yet," Palmer said coldly, walking into view over me, grasping a rifle in his hand. Palmer always dressed cheaply, sloppily, his untucked shirt missing several buttons and covered in food stains. His baldpate had wisps of hair along the sides. His face featured an ugly pug nose, hard eyes, and thick busy eyebrows. "Keep your distance and hold that lantern still."

I could only watch as Palmer calmly reloaded the weapon. It was happening all so simply, without any preamble. I was helpless, utterly helpless. I couldn't even spit in his face. Nothing in my body wanted to listen to me. If I did I would keep fighting, throw myself at him, fight, scratch, spit on his shoes. But it wasn't happening. Helpless.

"-for saddling me with you. And in the end, it wound up happening anyway," Palmer was mumbling, a note of scorn in his voice. I heard the click and smelled something bitter. And I smelled something else too.

"Die, wolf," Palmer seethed.

Then Benji made his move.

Zeke shrieked, "Massah!" as Benji shoved him aside, rushing from behind a tree. Palmer spat a curse, turned, and bringing his gun around. Not fast enough. Benji shouted, raw and feral, as he sprang into the air, bringing down and burying his sickle into the top of Palmer's head. Benji backed away, his eyes wild and frantic. Palmer didn't fall. He stood there for what seemed like a long moment. But before anyone could say or do anything. Palmer let out one jumbled, sputtering sound, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell down dead next to me, splashing cold murky water on my face, a blank, empty look on his face. A thin trickle of blood coming down from the sickle buried in his skull.

Pain. All at once, pain flooded into my body. The worse coming from the side of my head. It was on fire. At the same instant, I regained control of my body. As if some unseen force had kept me paralyzed and in one moment it vanished completely. The moment Palmer died.

Benji was panting hard. But I could see that smile on his face. "Damn, Kobe. Even when you get possessed by some mad spirit, I still gots to look afta ya? You'll be de death o' me yet," he said extending a hand.

I laughed, clasping his hand pulling myself up. "Who you calling possessed? You're just slow is all."

Benji shook his head. "Nah, nah. You're somethin' else entirely nah, Kobe. So damn fast, seein' in de dark, dat t'ing you did wit de lock to de barn. It's scary."

The barn that held all the field tools was always locked tight at night and could only be opened by a key Palmer kept on them. To show to Benji and the others that I really could lead them out of here, I broke the lock with my bare hands. It had surprised everyone, even me. I wasn't sure I could do it.

"M-m-m-massah?" Zeke stammered from the ground, holding the lantern before him with shaky hands. He swallowed and looked from Palmer's body to us. He was so scared his skin looked pale.

"What should we do with him?" Benji asked.

Zeke let out a lip trembling whimper.

My lips curled in contempt. "We should send him on to Hell with his 'beloved' Massah Palmer."

"N-no! Please, no! Don' k-kill me!" Zeke sputtered.

I looked away. "We're not killers. Let him run back, whimpering like the weak, fool of a coward he is."

Benji scowled at Zeke. "Fine. Go on, Zeke. Get yo' ass up on outta hea'. Befa Kobe changes mind. But leave dat lant'n hea'."

Still sputtering like a fool, Zeke set down the lantern and ran to his horse. Once he had rode away I asked Benji, "Why'd you make him leave the lantern?"

"T'ink 'bout it, Kobe. Why ya t'ink Palmer was tearin' afta us when he 'posed to be sleepin'? Zeke woke 'em and told 'em. And den he rode wit 'em holdin' dat lantern. He helped Palmer shoot at us. I hope the sum bitch neva make it back."

"Well, what's done is done. Let's go find Bo. He's sure to be scared out of his mind by now," I said starting off, but then I stopped. "And Benji?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for saving me, even when I told you to run and hide. Thank you."

He shrugged, still managing to hide how exhausted he was. "Not a problem, Kob. I'm sure you'd do the same for-"

A gunshot rang out.

Benji's body jerked, as something, wet and warm, splattered on my shirt, a confused look on his face. "-me."

The blood froze in my veins. "Benji?" His legs gave out and I slid on my knees to catch him. "Benji!"

Benji grimaced as he clutched at the wound. Weak eyes peered up at me through the night. "K-Kobe. I…"

"No. D-don't talk! Save…you strength," I said, my entire body shaking. I started looking around frantically. Trying to spot where the shot had come from. It was so loud, so close, but…there wasn't anyone else here. No one.

No one except…

"How embarrassing," someone rumbled.

My eyes snapped to the source.

To Palmer's corpse.

It was holding the gun as if it had just fired while still laying on the ground. Still with the sickle buried in its head. The barrel of the gun was smoking.

Impossible.

As soon I thought that, I watched as the corpse twitched, and spasmodically threw the gun away."To be felled by a human, a lowly, pathetic human and a half-awakened wolf. Absolutely pathetic that I'd be forced to do this," the voice rumbled from the same source. It wasn't Palmer's voice, and the sound wasn't coming from Palmer's throat. It was coming from inside Palmer's corpse

In one jerking, inhuman motion Palmer's corpse flipped over to its stomach. And the sound of a lot of movement came from the corpse, from inside of it. The back of the corpse throbbed once, bulging, like a single giant maggot trying to wriggle out from inside. I heard the sounds of bones crackling, muscles ripping, and stitching themselves back together. The process repeated, speeding up. The bulge grew until it split Palmer's clothes, and then the skin broke. Releasing a plume of a foul odor, the smell of rotten flesh, and a hideous, misshapen form.

It stood at least 8 feet tall, but not to its head, to a shoulder. It was hunchbacked. A mass of knotted, muscles bunched up into a point on its back, forming a sharp slope from one shoulder to another. Its arms were out of form, irregular; one long, heavily muscled that dragged the ground. The other much shorter, thin, almost childlike. Its dark green skin was covered in patches of thin, yellow hair that looked more like an insects spins. Bony protrusions stuck out from each of its joints. It's great upper body was betrayed by legs, too short to carry the heavy form. The squat muscled legs were severely bowlegged, so much so it looked as if its legs had been broken yet it stood. It gave the thing an almost humanoid quality.

But such a thing could never be mistaken for human. Ever.

The thing turned to face us.

I almost threw up.

Its head didn't exist. Not like any person would call a head. Its face was somehow meshed into the working of its upper torso, a grisly, gnarled visage of an elongated and swollen looking yellow and red eye. It had another eye, but it was hidden under a mass of lumpy flesh. Two slits between the eyes passed for nostrils, more of those coarse yellow hairs sticking out of them. Its mouth was crooked; going diagonal from its hunched shoulder to where it's lumpy, swollen bellow began. It was filled with rotten looking teeth.

And it was smiling.

"Palmer," Benji said, his voice weak. "Always…knew…he was…a monster. I…was right."

"Normally, I do not feed upon human males. Your flavor will defile my tongue for weeks after," the thing rumbled. "Still, I will savor devouring you both." The creature took one loping step towards us.

"R-run," Benji slurred. "Get away. L-leave me behind. Go."

I was staring a creature straight out of a nightmare in its hideous off kilter chest imbedded face. Run away? How was such a thing possible? Somehow, despite how it looked, I knew that this thing was as fast or faster than me. I knew that this thing had been Palmer from the very beginning, in some kind of disguise of human flesh. And I could smell the blood of several women on this thing's breath, hidden beneath the things natural stench. Then I was dimly aware of the fact that of all the women that came to visit Palmer, I never once actually saw any of them leave. It was always said they left in the dead of night.

Good God. This was absolute insanity. Everything. My ability to see, the things I could smell, the speed, the strength, the soundless gunshot that fell me the first time, one of my only friends in my entire life bleeding to death in my arms. All of it. Absolute madness. It all was a swirling storm of chaos. And I was lost within it. Lost to the anger, to the fear, the sorrow, the hate. And through it all there was the overwhelming feeling of pain. Not of the body, but of the mind. A pain that had felt all too familiar to me. I've felt this pain all my life. And I finally knew what that pain was. It was pain of living as if helpless, under restrictions. The pain of being held back not by people, not by setting, but by Nature itself. Living life as something I wasn't.

The pain of living as a human.

Now I saw it. It wasn't freedom from Palmer I wanted.

I wanted to free myself from myself, from my own humanity.

And I knew I could have it. There was but one thing I had to do.

A rancid hand reached for me as I bellowed at the top of my lungs, "Alyssa!"

The hand of the creature that was once Palmer hung in the air, unmoving as the entire world around me was frozen, and faded into light.

I found myself surrounded by a pale haze. I could move, but the movements I made didn't seem real. I opened my mouth to speak, to ask where I was, but it felt like I was speaking inside of my own mind. I was disoriented and confused, like I was having a dream about nothing. I would've felt nauseous I think, except I don't think I had a stomach to be nauseous to or from.

I only wished I had some kind of idea what was going on.

As if in answer, a part of the haze flowed away and it was as if I was looking out of a window. Through it I saw a crying infant, perhaps only minutes old. This place, it wasn't a slave house, or like any place I had ever seen. It had a straw roof, the walls made of dried mud. It was small. Not much bigger than a tool shed. There were several odd looking eye shaped plates on the walls with a stone blade on a stick mounted on the wall. They appeared to be made out of some kind of animal skin.

In the center of this place, the baby was being forcibly taken from its pleading bedridden mother's arms by some figure, shrouded completely in shadow, despite the fire burning nearby. It was like he or it was covered completely in smoke, except it didn't billow or act at all like smoke. It was too smooth and even. The mother had dark brown skin like mine. Her breasts were bare, and wore an odd series of multicolored necklaces about her throat, white paint on her face, and a grass skirt, The figure carrying the infant walk out of the mud shed and suddenly vanish from sight. The mother was crying something out that I could not hear. She frantically tried to pursue, a feat that was quite astounding. So soon after birth, I didn't think a woman could even stand. But before she could do more than sit up, she was dragged back down by the vague outlines of translucent hands, binding her to the ground. Then a moment later, another figure shrouded in shadow stepped in. A knife held in its pale, chalky hands. The woman looked at the figure and the knife, and then opened her mouth in a silent scream.

The vision faded away. "No! Go back! What happened to her? Show me what happened!" I pleaded of nothing. Then I tried to figure out at the same time why I cared so much about that woman and why my voice felt like it was a thought more than something I said, despite the fact that my lips were moving.

The vision returned. And I saw the same baby lying on the ground wrapped in cloth in the midst of a circle of shadow shrouded figures just like the one that took him. I still could not hear anything, but I knew, like a tingling on the nape of my neck, it was a ritual. One of the shrouded figures stepped forward slowly, methodically. I could almost feel the swell of energy as the ritual reached its peak. The figure raised an ornamental knife before it, the same kind as the blade from before. The figure knelt before the infant and raised the knife, its blade stained red with blood. The blood of the mother. They had already killed the baby's mother, and were now going to kill the baby as well. The bastards. The knife glinted as it struck down.

A flash of brilliant light obscured my vision for a bare moment. When it faded, the figure's blade had sunken into the ground. The baby was gone. I felt a surprising rush of relief. The shadows began to stir frantic. I couldn't be sure, but it appeared they were speaking to each other. And then a figure larger than the rest walked to the area the baby had been, stoop down and ran one of those pale fingers through the ground. The figure rose and I felt something heavy and dark ripple through me. And even though I couldn't feel much of anything, and anything I did feel might've been some kind of illusion, I felt cold all over. The sensation passed and the other shadowed figures began to streak about, going in all directions. I think I could sense them as they flew into pursuit, seemingly motivated into an angered frenzy by the large one.

Or…was it fear?

The vision changed again and I saw another figure, this time a dark skinned man that bore a stark resemblance to me, carrying the infant. He was running through some vast grassland in the moonlight, his neck adorned with the same ornaments as the woman. His face was covered in distinct designs made of some kind of paint. His footsteps were swift, nearly as swift as my own had been. He effortlessly bounds over small bodies of water. As he ran he passed great animals the likes of which I had never seen. A tall 4 legged creature covered in splotched fur with an immensely long neck, its head vaguely reminiscent of a horse, save for two large knobs at the crown of its head. Another creature that looked exactly like a small horse, except its fur was striped black and white. A great spotted cat. And most striking of all was a giant gray skinned beast with a long fleshy protrusion coming from its face and great ears that flopped about. They all looked vicious, but they did not hinder the running man, even though he ran extremely close to them. Yet none seemed to mind.

It was more like they made way for him.

Behind the man the shadowy figures pursued him, bounding through the air just as effortlessly. A pale, chalky arm swung out of one of their shrouds, as if it were throwing something. The running man leapt aside as the ground he was just running on exploded, a giant, barely visible hand trying to grab him. The shadow repeated the gesture, sending up those hands from the ground, all the while the man weaved between them with sure grace and agility. Eventually, the figure gave up and tried to throw itself bodily upon the running man.

The man turned his head and spoke a single word. With a noiseless snarl, an immense catlike creature, its head wrapped in a magnificent growth of long brown fur, launched bodily onto the attacking shadow figure and tackled it to the ground. Another figure dashed in tried to close in on the running man, but another great, long snouted beast swung its head and swatted the figure from the air to the ground, reared up onto its back legs, and stomped the figure. The running man passed another body of water, a gator, far larger than any I'd ever seen, burst from the water, snatched a figure by a leg in its jaws, and hauled the figure down into the water. The water suddenly swarmed with more of the gators, thrown into a frenzy. As the running man went, more and more creatures came to his aid, completely halting the shadowed figure pursuit as they suddenly came faced with the wrath of nature itself. None of the pursing figures ever laid a hand on him, and his footsteps did not slow.

All the while, the baby slept peacefully in his arms.

Again the vision changed and I was looking at the running man standing at the coast of some immense body of water standing before several white men, some of whom had trained weapons on him. The running man held the baby in his arms, saying one word over and over again. Behind the man in the water was a small rowboat, and further out, the series of lights indicated a larger ship ready for departure. The running man drop to his knees and presented the infant to the one man dressed in the richest clothing. The white man's eyes glazed over briefly. I could feel some energy brush across my senses. Then the white man gestured for the rest to lower their weapons and then nodded towards the running man and the baby. Reluctantly, they took the baby from the man and boarded the dinghy.

The running man leaned back and said something to the sky, a look of exhaustion on his face, mixed with relief. He spoke again, as if talking to the sky. And then the running man collapsed to the ground and did not move again.

He's dead, I realized.

And then I realized something else. I recognized the larger boat the white men were rowing to. It was a three mast vessel known as a baroque. And I knew more than that. I knew the ship's name. It was known as the Light of the West, though this was just its name in English. It's real name was French. The owner liked the implications the slightly pretentious name gave him. And as I looked at the richly dressed man, I saw it. I saw the younger face of my first owner, Master Durand.

I was told I was born on a slave ship, one of the last slave ships to ever legally visit the African continent when I was young. When I got older, I found out that slave traders almost never took already showing pregnant women along for the several month voyage across the water. Pregnant slaves didn't tend to survive the birth due to lack of a midwife or any other necessities for healthy child delivery, and would frequently die of disease. And assuming the baby survives as well, the heartless slave traders, only caring about money, would more often than not simply throw the babies overboard, rather than hassle themselves by caring for it. It put the likelihood of actually being one of the babies to survive in severe doubt. But I was never given any alternative to the events of my birth, and had to assume I was just one of those extremely rare cases. But, suppose I really hadn't been born on the slave ship then-

Realization flooded into my mind, shining upon me, lighting the truth. I don't know why or how this was happening, but I also don't know why or how I was seeing any of what I was seeing. But, like the pain and fear earlier, all of that was completely immaterial.

That baby, it was me. The running man, the woman they killed. They were my parents.

I was born in Africa. Some group with dark powers wanted me dead. They killed my mother to use her blood to kill me as part of a ritual. My father rescued me, had to get me to safety, but as long as I remained in Africa, the ones that pursued me would not stop. The only hope was to get me off the continent entirely. Borrowing the strength of the land he called home, he ran from the heart of Africa to the coast, and gave me away to slave traders, the only way I'd ever get out of Africa alive.

The effort cost him his life. He had no way of knowing what kind life he was putting me into, but it was a fate he believed greater than the one that awaited me had I stayed.

They gave me life and then the chance live it. I'd imagine that's what any parent would want.

"Ah. So that's how you came to live in this place," Alyssa said suddenly. She appeared next to me as the great beast, sitting down on its haunches.

I wasn't sure what steel came over me to keep me from jumping out of my skin, but I was grateful. "You came," I said.

"As I said I would, young one."

"Then change me. Make me like you. I'm ready," I said with conviction.

Alyssa looked at me, then threw back her head and laughed. A howling sound so loud should've hurt my ears, except I didn't think I was hearing this with my physical ears. I also would've felt my cheeks warm.

I blinked eyes that might not have really been there to blink. "What…why are you laughing?"

Alyssa tilted her head, ears flicking. "Isn't the reason for my laughter is obvious, young one? That is what one does when watching a display as humorous as your escape attempt."

I looked at the beast in silence for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"I do not like to repeat myself, young one," Alyssa said, her voice taking an edge of agitation. "I found watching your attempt at escaping quite humorous."

I shook my head. "No, wait. You were watching us?"

"That's right. I wanted to see what you would do, and you failed to impress. Very disappointing."

"We were running for our lives and…you treated like we were putting on a performance for you?" I said raising my non-voice. "Or are you just trying to play more games with me? Because I couldn't smell or hear you at all."

She opened her mouth, filled with large, sharp teeth, in a yawn. Which was clearly to be insulting, since there wasn't any actual air here. "I've already said I dislike repeating myself, young one, but very well. I was right next to you the entire time. You could not detect me, because I did not wish to be detected. After all, the modicum of power you possess is merely borrowed from me. It is a simple task to circumvent senses that are derivative of my own. It is one of many skills I possess, young one."

"Okay." I looked around. "And this? What is this? Did you do it?"

"Yes. A spell of inner clairvoyance. A very difficult spell I can only hold for any length of time during a full moon. With this spell, much thought along a metaphysical plane can be accomplished. It is commonly used for mediation or self reflection in private. And no one outside the spell's influence can interfere unless I allow it," Alyssa murmured, as if reciting straight from memory.

"So, all around us. The…thing reached for me then stopped. It can't move?"

Her ears flicked in a way that reminded me of someone dismissively waving their hand. Somehow. "The details are complex and not to be wasted on one without understanding such as you, young one. Suffice it to be said that all that occurs within this realm the spell created, is in truth occurring in bare instants to those outside. The affect could be described as 'slowing down time' if you wish to be crude. Do you follow?"

I nodded. I wasn't sure what it meant, true, but I did get the gist. I closed my eyes and tried to find another way, another course of action, a different solution. I couldn't come up with one. When I spoke, my voice was surprisingly calm. "So, not only were you watching us die, but you could've stepped in at anytime with this…magic spell and let us get away but didn't just so you could play witness?"

The beast met my eyes levelly. "This was a test, my dear Kobe. And unfortunately, you failed miserably."

"A test?"

"When I bestowed upon you my power, I had assumed you would take your time, take a more measured plan to escape. Maybe even attempt to kill Palmer outright. But, to simply run? Pathetic. And you waited until more than three quarters of your group had been slain before using my powers to your full advantage. And even then, you made a mess of it. Arrogantly flaunting your powers and exhibiting poor self-control. You didn't even notice you friend was following you. Or that one of those shots you assumed to be errant had claimed the life of the one you call Bo."

My heart dropped. "Bo too? He's gone?"

"That's right. He is dead, shot through the temple. Completely pathetic, young one, to have completely failed to notice. You let your guard down as you reveled in your perceived superiority. Just like a foolish newborn pup. You were listening only for gunshots, so you didn't notice that Palmer had opted to simply throw a bullet at you once he noticed you'd partially awakened. And then you let your most trusted ally come to your aid and be slain in the process of saving your life. How truly pathetic."

Her words piled on me like heavy weights. Each one dragging me closer and closer to the bottom. "Then why didn't you help save them?" I whispered.

"Why would I do such a thing? I had no obligation to protect your allies, young one. The blood of your fellow slaves is not on my conscious. But your own. You alone led them to be slaughtered. Like dogs."

That was the final push it took to send me over the edge.

"You son of a bitch!" I threw myself at the beast, a savage roar tearing from my mouth. I may as well have been attacking a ghost. I passed straight through it, sending me sprawling. I scrambled to my feet and threw punches, kicked, tried to tackle her again. Bite her. Scratch Hurt her. Do anything to her. But my efforts were completely useless. "Damn you!"

Just like everything else I'd done that night.

And then, I did something I refused to ever let myself do, even when I was whipped. I couldn't stop it from happening. And I didn't really care.

How could I fight her when she was speaking the absolute truth? I did lead them all to their deaths. I failed them.

I sank to my knees. "Damn…myself. I only…I only wanted to save everyone too. I wanted to set all of us free. I didn't want anyone to be left to that life. I should've just run, left everything behind," I said pitifully. "So many people died because of me. People that I was supposed to lead, to protect. And I failed them, failed them all. Even my own parents died just because of me. I never should've been born in the first place."

"What in Sam Hill…talkin' like dat, sobbin' like a babe, de hell wrong wit ya, Kobe?"

I lifted my head, eyes wide. "B-Benji?"

There he was standing, in front of Alyssa, arms folded and shaking his head at me. "Neva thought my eyes'd see de day when Kobe lost hope. Neva shoulda been born? Boy, I ought ta knock de tall out ya, talkin' like dat."

I found myself pursing my lips, ready to retort with something. "Benji, how are you here? What's going on?"

"How am I 'posed to know dat, ya idjit. But dis ain't 'bout me. Dis 'bout you talkin' that nonsense. Neva shoulda been born? You know how much stuff be messed up if you never came to Palmer plantation?"

"What are you talking about?"

Benji shook his head again, his expression turning somber. "Kobe, if I had neva met you, I woulda killed myself years ago."

"What?"

"Dat's right. Massah Palmer was and still is a trollin' fiend. Wasn't 'fraid o' nuttin'. Used ta work us like dogs- no, was den dogs. I couldn' ha'dly take it. Thought bein' dead be better den bein' Palmer slave ano'er day. But den you showed up. Tallest, strongest, darkest man I ever did see. And yo' mind was quicker den a whip. It wuz de first day I eva seen massah sweat. You put de fear o' God in 'em. He didn't want ya, Kobe. He told the man who brought ya hea, to take you somewheres else. But he made 'em take ya. Dat's why he wuz always a whoopin' on you. He was 'fraid 'o you, Kobe.

"You were the first one outta all a' us to ever stand up ta Palmer. Even if you never did it wit yo mouth. We could see it in yo eyes. Could hear it when you never, not once cried out when you took dem lashes. Lookin' back, we probably shoulda said so. But some of us were jealous fools and others were still mo' 'fraid o' Palmer den.

"Even I had ma' doubts. But deep down we all knew for de longest, dat if anyone'd eva set us free, it'd be you. We was just a waitin' fer ya to stop talkin' 'bout escapin' an' do it. Why do you think we all up and ran wit you the moment you said dat we was gonna run fer it? No one objected, did they? Nope. Not one."

He's right. They looked unsure, but that was simple fear. They were almost too willing. Now that I think about it, opening up the barn was I shook my head. "But in the end…I got you all killed. Even you…you're shot. Bleeding in my arms..."

Benji scoffed, waving a hand, brushing the comment aside. "Please nah, Kobe. You really think any of us woulda lived long anyways if we actually coulda ran away? A big group a runaway slaves, in a white man's world? We'd neva make it to dat kinda freedom. We always knew dat. You were always gonna be de one to eva truly escape, de only one. It might've been why som was jealous o' ya."

"You knew?" I breathed, not really. "From the start? Then why follow me to your deaths? And even when we were running, you kept saying we should go back. You were afraid of dying."

Benji spread his hands, a wry smile on his face. "I's human. Couldn't help it, I guess. Dyin' is scary and so is fear. Makes you say 'n do t'ings ya don' mean. So, yeah, I shilly-shally'd from time to time, but you were always right dere to set me straight. " He rubbed his chin. "Violently if ya had to. You gave me and de others hope, de will to get us dis far. In de end, I did learn dat there's more den one way to be free."

"More than one way," I whispered.

"Not one a us died a slave, Kobe. I may have been 'fraid of de truth myself, but dat's all we eva really wanted." He started to fade away. "All we eva needed. Thank you, Kobe. Thank you."

And for the second time, I let something happen that I swore never to do. This time, I didn't feel so pathetic for it. "And thank you, old friend. I won't forget you. I promise."

"Oh, you betta not," his voice echoed.

The last I saw before Benji was gone was of that contagious smile of his.

"That's a good look on you, young one," Alyssa said, her voice soft, comforting. "He was a good man."

"I know," I said. And thought occurred to me just then. "And you're a clever girl, aren't you?"

Alyssa's bestial eyebrows raised, ears flicking. It reminded me of a child that's hand has been caught in the cookie jar, an unusual comparison to a giant dog creature. "Hm?"

"'No one outside the spell's influence can interfere unless I allow it.' You gave me one last chance to say goodbye," I said.

"Again, you never cease to impress me, young one," Alyssa said, her voice a smile.

"You intended from the beginning to change me. But why do all of this? Why say those things to make me mad?"

"What you will soon learn, young one, is that the tuning the mystical arts to a person's mind is all about connections. I could not draw in the dying spirit of your friend into this spell on my own unless someone with a close bond with him was pouring in the right amount of energy. Anger makes beings like us emit energy inadvertently due to lack of control, and you would've naturally thought of your friend, had you been forced to recall the events. With your thoughts and the energy emitted from anger, the spell was possible." The beasts great form wavered flickered in and out of sight briefly. "I'm sorry, but I've reached my limit. We must finish the awakening process."

"Very well, but one last thing."

Alyssa nodded. "Quickly."

"Why didn't you help us escape?"

"Another thing you shall come learn in time intimately is that beings such as us are not without our enemies and not without our rules. The circumstances of this night prevent me from acting out against Palmer, by bestowing you with a portion of my own power, I've toed the line enough. I would arouse a precarious situation you would not yet be ready to handle if I interfered. However, you and you alone may act against Palmer."

"I can?" My eyebrows rose, a dark kind of glee making me smile a wolfish smile.

"That is right. Palmer has committed a number of violations of The Code through the years. As a Witness, you can confront him honorably. But first …" Alyssa placed her great paw on my forehead. "We must awaken your true nature, your lycanthropic nature."

And then-

Oh. God.

The troll's foul hand continued towards the space the human once occupied. What it found was not human.

Powerful jaws clamped around its left hand, teeth rending through flesh and pulverizing bone. The troll's one functioning eye grew wide, pulling back the blood gushing stump and crying out in pain, shock, and, most importantly, fear.

"No! No! Impossible! You've awakened?" the troll cried trembling.

"Normally, I do not feed upon impotent trolls. Your flavor will defile my tongue for weeks after," the newborn lycanthrope rumbled. "Still, I will savor devouring you."

"Will that suffice?" Zuchi said. "Was that story accurate enough?"

I nodded once. "Accurate? Hardly. But enough? Sure."

"Excellent, but…" Zuchi frowned. "What was inaccurate about it?"

I smiled a nostalgia fueled smile. "I bit off the right hand."

Zuchi blinked, and then rolled his eyes. Caught himself, then had to debate with himself whether he should apologize or not. "Well, okay. You're suddenly in better moods."

I rolled a shoulder. "You brought up dear memories. Nothing more."

"Okay. Then do I have your trust?"

I nodded again. "For now."

"Good. Then let's get started." Zuchi pressed a button on his counter. "Enter." The door opened immediately and the Chinese female and both Russian brothers strode in.

I gave a questioning look to Zuchi.

"This matter concerns all of us. It has to do with recent activity that has been of interest to the bakenekkos." Zuchi explained. "For starters, Mr. Kobe, are you familiar with Hosei University?"