Author's Note: I know that I promised multiple updates by now, but I keep running into bad luck. Our plumbing quit on us last Monday, so after I got off work, I was helping with that every day this past week. In doing so, I sliced up my thumb pretty bad, so every time I hit the space bar, I want to cry a little inside. However, I did manage to work a little bit on this and, to show my love, I also posted an additional story as a companion piece to this chapter, which you should read after this.
Thank you to: winegoldsayuri, NellaXIval, Something, mk17design, Astaline Nihtingale, Fall in Snow, kuzon234ray, AnimeM22, Astarael-7th, Chocobo Confectionary, RobotInTheRoom, SilverKleptoFox, Saturns-Moon, DevilChile, Lohikrmesielu, Maydn, Shade, and everyone else who alerted/favorite this story. You guys are awesome. A special thank you to Astarael-7th, who provided me with private words of encouragement and an amazing Chinese swear.
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This kid got possessed too much.
That was the only thing Bookman could think as everything around him suddenly went to hell in a handbasket. Sagira, distracted by the sudden turn of events, was kicked roughly in the ribs by one of Jahaar's men with whom she had been fighting. When she hit the wall behind Bookman and slumped down to the ground, the girl did not rise again. It left Bookman standing, somewhat helplessly, at knife point, while Yeegar continued to evade the violent jabs of machetes directed his way. Directly in front of Bookman, Jahaar stood with a triumphant grin; beside him, Seeker's face was cast into a dark, malicious shadow. His dark gaze seemed to inquire tauntingly: What will you do now?
He presumed that Bookman was in no position to resist, as it was his apprentice who held the blade, but Seeker did not know that this had happened before back in that secret room beneath Lady Alexandra's mansion in Greece. Just like that time, Bookman had no qualms about putting the boy down. With years of training behind his hands, he was able to disarm Darpan, the tip of the dagger dragged across his neck, leaving a warm stinging sensation in its wake. It was nothing fatal, just a scratch, from the weapon that now lay in the dust behind him. Before Bookman, his apprentice crouched in a defensive position, vacant eye staring blankly ahead.
He'll kill you.
The voice did not belong to the Innocence, that Bookman knew, but whose voice it could have been, he could not imagine. His focus was instead on the current moment, where Darpan rushed at him with hard, accurate strikes at his body. Seeker had tapped into every part of his mind, infiltrating all action and knowledge, which included Lavi's fighting skill. Because the boy was physically small and agile, it made him a bit formidable, though Bookman was able to deflect each movement. However, if he were to falter only slightly—with a foot that slid in the sand or a reflex that came too slowly—Bookman knew that Lavi was perfectly capable of rendering him paralyzed with a few maneuvers. It wasn't strength so much as it was accuracy on those certain points of the body which no human being could withstand a single strike.
Fight.
Out of the corner of his eye, Bookman saw Sagira coming their way. With the force of a palm thrust against Darpan's chest, he pushed the boy several feet away, giving him a few seconds to deal with the girl. Her own dark eyes were unresponsive as she attacked him with rapid punches and kicks, which Bookman defended against. His arms would bruise, but at that moment, he knew that all he could do was push them back until he had the opportunity. When that happened, perhaps he could reverse the hypnosis without hurting the children too badly in the process.
Attack.
Sagira's body, already physically weak from the beating she had received prior, reacted slower, even under Seeker's control. Evading her attack to one of the brachial pressure points in his right arm, Bookman struck her with the tips of his fingers directly in her stomach. She crumpled immediately and remained on the ground, unable to move. Darpan, however, did manage to stand. His body swayed for only a moment, the result of the blow to his chest, but after a moment of regaining balance, his uncomprehending eye focused once more on Bookman.
Stop.
The word spoken was a weak ringing in Bookman's ears, different from the commanding voice from before. He could not think about it, preparing himself as his apprentice came at him again. Bookman avoided him, sidestepping to throw the boy off balance. Although Darpan had missed him, he did not fall, instead skidding across the intricate stone floor on the limited grains of sand that still remained. With this motion, the redhead managed to retrieve his blade. That might have been his plan all along, because once his fingers were secure around the hilt, Darpan turned and immediately hurried in Bookman's direction again with the tip pointing at him with clear intent. In this span of seconds, Bookman searched for an opening. When the boy was within a few feet of him, he found one. Using his pointer and middle fingers, Bookman struck the redhead's left shoulder before he could lift the knife. The boy's intended attack was halted, allowing the old man to force Darpan down to the ground, pinning him effectively so that he could not rise or fight. The dagger had fallen from his apprentice's hand, out of reach beside them.
"Wake up," Bookman commanded him, though it did not seem as if the boy could comprehend his speech. Up close, Bookman could see all the minute details that usually went unnoticed: everything from the part of his henna colored hair to the pale freckles on Lavi's nose that had been slowly fading as he aged. He could see the curve of his lashes around the left eye, where Bookman noticed that the iris was a thin, green crust around a dilated pupil. It was an endless expanse of black that held his apprentice in a state he could not wake from.
Stop.
There it was again: a small, whispered request that brushed against his psyche. He could not identify where he had heard it before, but knew that it was neither the Innocence, nor that authoritative tone from before. It bothered him that he could not discern its origin.
Jiji.
In that moment the name was spoken, Bookman's senses were catapulted into overdrive, where it felt like his awareness was sucked inside the black, pulling beyond the dark lashes and thin green ring of color that framed the darkness. When he emerged from the sensation, Bookman found himself flat on his back, lying on a cold floor. The ceiling above him was a familiar, curved arch of stone and light. Upon sitting up, Bookman realized where he was: East Library. However, it was not East Library as he knew it. The usually tidy desks and bookshelves were in disarray. Every surface had stacks of tomes and documents. Broken quills littered the floor among old ink stains that looked like black blood splatters against the marble floors. Around him, Bookman noticed that many volumes were missing from the shelves, leaving gaps in their wake.
Jiji.
He turned around. A few feet behind him stood a boy, no older than four, draped in a Clan shawl. The single green eye and unmistakable red hair told Bookman exactly who it was.
"Lavi," Bookman said, and the boy's eye became as wide as a saucer. His face was white to the point where he was almost transparent and he appeared frightened by Bookman's sudden presence. Shaking his head mutely, he stepped backwards hesitantly, still looking afraid. Directly behind the child appeared another form, slightly taller and a little healthier looking, though not by much: the redhead whom Bookman had met back at Clan headquarters years ago. He put his hands on the child's shoulders, stilling his retreat. Another green eye focused directly on him, but it was deeper, calmer than the smaller boy's had been.
"We are not Lavi," said the older image. Bookman looked at him and then at the child, recalling a conversation that he and Elizaveta had had back in the mountains during a cool spring a few years prior. Perhaps you've overlooked something, or should I say someone. His name is Rohan. The older boy smiled, but only slightly, as if he had heard the old woman's words ringing in his mind as well. It was not the bright expression that Bookman had seen Lavi wear before, but the tight, controlled smile that never reached the eye.
Jiji.
Their images flickered, as if a hologram. Bookman realized then that their paleness was not due to ill health or malnutrition. They actually were semi-transparent, fading quickly into nothingness; the books on the shelves followed their slow path into disappearing.
"We're calling for you," said Rohan, his voice calm, as if unperturbed by the situation at hand. The smaller version of himself hid beneath his cloak, burrowing against Rohan's side as if for protection. Bookman could barely see the thin arms that clung to the taller boy's body.
"Why?" Bookman asked, looking upward as some of their light cut out. A part of the ceiling had been swallowed by darkness.
"Because we're dying," Rohan replied, the single green eye focused on Bookman. "You're the one killing us."
"You are mistaken," Bookman said. "You are under Seeker's control. When you break free of his spell, you will see that you are in perfect health."
"You are the one who is mistaken," Rohan said, his voice unapologetic despite the outright challenge. "It is you, Bookman, who has been captured by the Mentalist. When you break free of his spell, you will see what you have done." The child had completely disappeared. Rohan was a mere outline filled in with washed out color.
Jiji.
"There," Rohan said, raising his arm to point at a door directly to Bookman's right. His finger was almost imperceptible, but Bookman followed its direction and put his hand on the doorknob, stopping only to glance back at Rohan for a moment. He stood there in place, where the material things in the room began melting instead of fading. It looked like ink pouring down over the shelves and tables, pooling around Bookman's ankles.
"Please stop, Jiji."
The voice in Bookman's head resonated in unison with the words that Rohan spoke, his eye closing as he sunk into the black water. He disappeared with a splash that whispered quietly:
Please, save us.
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Beyond the door, there was darkness.
Bookman walked into it, not knowing where it would lead him. His footsteps rang out in the space, sounding as if he were walking on glass. Treading carefully, Bookman searched for Lavi in the nothingness. Were they both the victims of Seeker's mental games? Or was this all an illusion that Seeker was putting him through? Bookman then had to wonder what was real in the first place. Was it his apprentice who had been under Seeker's control, or Bookman? Was Rohan telling the truth and were Bookman's hands killing the boy's physical body at that very moment?
It felt suddenly very cold.
"Lavi," Bookman said, hearing his voice, although quiet, echo within the unknown space.
Jiji...
As the word was spoken again, the boy's distorted image came into sight. His body lay on its side upon the floor, unmoving. Just as the voice had sounded faint, the figure was in the same state of slowly fading away, like the two forms Bookman had seen earlier. When Bookman neared him, he could see that beneath Lavi's body, a mirrored image of him lay in the same position. Both Lavi and Darpan slowly turned their ashen, identical faces slowly in his direction.
Jiji…
Bookman could barely hear Lavi's voice, but he watched the movement of his apprentice's pale lips and knew. Rohan had been correct. Lavi had somehow managed to bring Bookman into the decimated place inside his own mind to tell him this truth.
Wake up.
Pain assaulted Bookman's head, pulling him back from Lavi and out through the darkness and into the temple.
Wake up.
It was a woman's voice this time, speaking to him as he regained his senses. He did not recognize it, too concerned with what had hit him so roughly. A steel toed traveling boot lay next to him, accounting for the aching in his head. Glancing upward, Bookman realized that Sagira had finally gotten back on her feet and used his momentary lapse of consciousness within Lavi's mind to attack him. No longer was Bookman restraining Darpan, but instead found that he was several feet away, most likely having recoiled from the pain Sagira's boot had caused him. The girl in question stood in front of the redhead, her eyes still vacant as she came forward to attack him with a jagged dagger she had removed from her belt. Bookman knew that with Darpan, he had been under the influence of Seeker, but was Sagira's hostility another figment of his mental abilities? Or was she truly under his control? Not wanting to find out the hard way, Bookman evaded her attack.
Wake up.
Behind her, Bookman saw Darpan gasping for air weakly, giving him some comfort to know he had not killed the boy. At that moment, however, there was no time for relief, as he had to deal with Sagira. She left no openings for him to reach her, but after several moments, when her momentum began to decrease again, Bookman found his opportunity and hit a point on her neck that rendered her unconscious immediately. The weapon fell from her hand, clattering on the stone floor. Bookman picked it up so that she could not use it again if she were to regain awareness.
No.
It was Lavi's voice: stronger than before, but just as desperate. It seemed to echo in the empty room. In that moment, Bookman realized that Jahaar and Seeker were gone, as were Yeegar and the rest of Jahaar's cronies whom he had been fighting before. To where had they disappeared? Had Jahaar and Seeker stolen away down another one of the temple's hallways to search for the Innocence? Had Yeegar followed? Not knowing these answers, Bookman instead occupied himself with his apprentice and began walking towards where Darpan's form lay, covered in dust, now unmoving…
No, Jiji. Don't.
Bookman stopped. He could still hear his apprentice, but it was as it had been before; distorted, like Darpan was calling him through a pipe some distance away. There was something not right.
Stop.
He was still under Seeker's control.
Jiji.
His hand clutched the hilt of the dagger tighter at the tone of Lavi's voice.
Wake up.
The image of the room before him bent, as if he were looking at it from the wrong end of an optical lens. It then shimmered as it straightened the picture, showing a grimmer reality than the world Bookman had just emerged from. The old man discovered himself standing there with a sheath in his left hand, a blade in his right. At his feet, Sagira lay bloody and bruised; breathing, but looking as if she were in bad shape. Bookman realized that he must have disarmed her after hurting her, stealing the blade that he held, the point pressed directly against his jugular. He had been just seconds away from ending his own life. Bookman dropped it quickly, senses reeling as he attempted to resurface completely from the intense illusion.
"Jiji…"
Bookman's attention turned from Sagira to his apprentice, who sat on the ground a few feet from him, his face pale and body shaking. His lip was bleeding. Bookman could see cuts and red marks decorating his exposed skin. But these things were not the most important; it was the expression he wore: as if he had seen something that could be unseen, or done something that could not be undone.
"I'm sorry…I had to…b-but I didn't mean to…" he said, quickly, voice thick with disbelief. Bookman at first did not understand, until he noticed that the room was as he had left it: with other people in it. There was Kevin, using all his abilities to not have to resort to utilizing his weapon, continued to evade Jahaar's persistent men. And then there was the leader in question, who remained rooted to the same spot Bookman recalled, but without the smug expression from earlier. It had been replaced with utter shock, anger beginning to mount close behind it. Bookman realized why when his eyes followed Jahaar's, finally falling upon Seeker. No longer beside the Arab; Seeker instead lay on the ground at a strange angle, very close to Darpan. When Bookman stepped closer to investigate, he could see the hilt of Lavi's blade protruding from the man's neck. It looked as if it had been thrown from a low angle, missing the intended target of the left shoulder, instead embedding itself right into the other Bookman's throat, killing him almost instantly.
"I'm sorry…" Darpan said again, a bit more earnestly than before. "He was going to…I had to…" Bookman recalled his position upon waking, just centimeters before ending his own life due to Seeker's power. He did not know how he should have felt about the situation and the dead man at his feet. Seeker, although having let the power go to his head, was a Bookman too. It felt almost like treachery to have ended his life. Bookman's gaze shifted to Darpan. He could see the marks on the boy's throat where his own hands had nearly killed him.
All because of the Bookman known as Seeker.
"I'm sorry…" Darpan repeated and Bookman could hear his uneven breaths becoming more frantic. He had killed another Bookman and the consequences were probably running through his head a mile a minute. Killing another member of the Clan was not something to be taken lightly.
"Stop your dithering," Bookman said, though there was no force behind it. He could not outright praise the boy for his deed, though he wanted to. After all, Darpan had saved his life, but it was at the cost of another person's existence. That was a violation of Clan law: stepping beyond the realm of pure observation and acting, altering the state of the world. But just like the time before, in the darkness of that underground library in Belgrade, his apprentice had come to his aid. With Baqer, it had been a relief. With Seeker, it felt heavier, despite Bookman having no attachment to the man who continued to bleed out onto the floor. Despite everything, when it came down to it, Bookman was glad it was he who was the one who was still breathing.
"I…" Darpan began, but Bookman stopped him with a look that quieted him completely. He looked like he wanted to say more, but his expression paled even further when a small voice said:
"Ustadh?"
Sagira had shakily pushed herself up from where she had fallen. Completely ignoring the two of them, she practically crawled over to her master's side. Despite him being corrupt and, as Sagira had said before, wrong in his actions, he had still been the girl's mentor. She stared at the body, shaking her head in disbelief. Bookman watched as her eyes fell upon the blade in Seeker's neck, obviously a weapon allocated by the Clan, as it bore the crest and pattern. Although shaking with exhaustion, Sagira rounded on Darpan and began hitting him weakly with her balled up fists.
"You! You killed Ustadh! You killed him!" she cried. The redhead looked like he was too far gone to feel the beating he received. It was only a few moments before Sagira's last remaining bit of strength gave out and she was instead leaning on Darpan, sobbing out unintelligible words against his shoulder.
Across the room, Yeegar had been distracted by the cry concerning a death, readily surrendering to the men with whom he had been trying not to engage in battle. When the general was brought to Jahaar, Bookman could see his mind working in overtime, trying to figure out an alternate plan to get the treasure he so desired. Without Seeker, he had little leverage.
"Get the rest of them," Jahaar ordered. "Bind all of them except the boy." The three men who had captured Yeegar tied his hands behind his back, before joining a few more of Jahaar's cronies to get the rest of them. Most of them looked roughed up, probably from the injuries they sustained earlier from the children and Bookman himself. They appeared gleeful to take a bit of revenge for their earlier shortcomings. Bookman, in no physical or mental state to do anything further, allowed himself to be taken and bound with his hands in front of him, not resisting the coarse rope used around his wrists. Sagira, meanwhile, was torn away from Darpan, her face a red, dirty mess. She hadn't cried, but her feelings were clear and when they forced her into restraints, she did not fight. One of the remaining men grabbed Darpan by his hair and dragged him upward, pulling him roughly to stand in front of Jahaar.
"You're the only one small enough to fit down there," Jahaar said. Bookman realized that those words were in reference to the hole in the floor that had appeared when the room shifted. It felt like it had been so long ago, when truly only an hour or so had passed. Their mission was the Innocence that dwelled inside. Truly, he had almost forgotten, his gaze flickering to where Seeker's body still lay behind them. Bookman itched for a cigarette to rid himself of the shakes that took hold of his hands, a side effect of the illusions he had seen and the adrenaline that had kept him fighting. His head ached where Sagira had hit him with her boot as other parts of his body began protesting with their own complaints. While under Seeker's control, Bookman had not only dealt serious damage, but also received it, judging from the soreness in his extremities.
But he was getting distracted.
Focusing on the present happenings, Bookman watched as two men procured a long length of rope. They were planning on lowering Darpan into that unknowable place to retrieve the Innocence. Jahaar did not seem to care about the safety of his apprentice in the slightest. He pointed his blade at the redhead in a threatening manner, which made it clear his intentions: if Darpan were to go down and get the Innocence, then Jahaar would "give up his prisoners". Bookman doubted if he would prove good on that promise, his instinctive want to protect the boy from harm rising upwards.
But there was nothing he could do. Who was to say that Jahaar didn't kill the boy right there? And even if he did not, and Bookman and Kevin managed to overpower the rest of the group, who was to say that Yeegar would not ask the same thing of Darpan?
There was no other choice.
"Go down there and get my treasure boy," Jahaar said. The redhead wrapped the bottom of the rope around his leg for some kind of support, gripping onto the rest to hold on. His single green eye met Bookman's for only a moment, as if searching, before he was gone. Bookman was left to watch as they lowered Darpan into the cavern, where he disappeared into the darkness, leaving the rope as his only lifeline. Silence followed, wherein everyone listened for something from the boy inside.
"Do you see anything?" Jahaar asked, standing next to the hole impatiently. The night had gone by quickly, leaving them with limited time to get in and get out. They could not dally, as it was unknown, when it became dawn, if they would be trapped inside the temple or if the structure would merely disappear into the morning air.
"No," came Darpan's response. He sounded far down into the earth. "It's really dark down here…"
"Just keep going," Jahaar said, as his men continued to give rope. When there was a tug, they stopped providing him with length and waited for his report. Jahaar stood by anxiously, pacing around the hole as he waited. "Well, what do you see, boy?" Even though his tone commanded an answer, none came. There was only silence for the longest time. Bookman's fingers shook worse as the moments dragged on, head throbbing in time with his heart. The Innocence had told them to leave and none of them had listened. What would it do to his apprentice, who went without any means of defense into the abyss? They waited and waited, but there was no answer from within. Frustrated, Jahaar grabbed Bookman roughly by his left arm and brought him to the edge, forcing him down beside the opening. "Make him answer."
"Darpan," Bookman said into the black. Just like before, he felt as if he were searching for the boy in unknown territory. And just like before, Lavi was somewhere in there, perhaps needing his help. Bookman gripped the edge of the hole with his wrists still bound tightly together, straining his ears for any sound, but there was none. No answer came.
The air coming from the chasm felt cold.
"Dammit," cursed Jahaar, stalking away in a temper. Bookman remained by the opening, hoping to hear something. Nothing came for the longest time and his concern grew heavier with each passing moment. What was down there? Bookman did not want to imagine. The child had already been through too much in one evening and the current situation on top of it was not helping either of them. Bookman decided that if Lavi died, he would kill him, plain and simple. Although it wasn't a logical thought, it put him slightly at ease. It was better than the alternative, where he imagined a mutilated corpse at the bottom of that God-forsaken hole. That was the reason why they did not get involved. If the Chancellor knew, he would laugh until he shat himself. Even more so when he found that the entirety of the mess was Bookman's fault.
Seeker was at fault as well, but there were no punishments for dead men.
"Pull the kid up," Jahaar decided with an angry gesture of his hand. With this order, the men nodded and began pulling the rope, but then stopped, hesitantly looking at the Arab.
"It's too light. He's not holding onto it anymore," said one of them. That was not what Bookman wanted to hear. His passing thoughts were jumbled enough as it is, colored with emotion that he should not have felt, only serving to increase Bookman's mounting worry. The tips of his nails dug into the stone around the opening. There had already been one Bookman who lost his life that night.
Another was out of the question.
"Call him again," Jahaar ordered, although he did not have to. Bookman did a second time, and then a third. Still, no response came. No illumination emanated from the opening. Perhaps the Innocence wasn't there after all…When Bookman looked back at Kevin to inquire about this, he needed not say anything. Yeegar's shoulders slumped, believing his mission to be over without any positive results: the deaths of two people on his conscious. Sagira, burdened as well, sunk down to the ground, leaning against the general's leg for support. She only had one shoe on; her other foot had a dirty sock with a hole in the toe, which she twisted in the dirt. Her eyes were far away.
"You don't think he's dead, do you?" she asked quietly, voice not giving away any emotion. When Bookman looked at her more closely, though, he saw that tears were falling down her cheeks quietly. Bookman did not know what to think. If he had been able to go down there, he would have, but even Sagira wasn't small enough to fit into that narrow space, so they were left there with nothing to do but wait.
And wait they did.
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After an eternity, the men holding the rope suddenly jumped to attention.
"Something's down there," one of them said, looking to Jahaar for orders. They would face one of two things: either it was Darpan or it was the thing that had most likely killed him.
"Pull it up, then," Jahaar said, and they obeyed, working quickly to retrieve the length they had lowered down, while the Arab remained by the opening, his machete out and at the ready. Yeegar was practically in a crouched position, ready to capture the Innocence if need be. Beside him, Sagira watched, unblinkingly, as they pulled up a small, human form. What appeared nearly stopped Bookman's anxious heart, though he would never admit to such a feeling. It was Darpan, pale beneath the dirt and blood on him. When he was on flat ground again, he said nothing and fell forward against the stone floor, sending up a cloud of dust.
Even through the brown, heavy air, Bookman could see a steady green glow from beneath Darpan's cloak.
Jahaar saw it as well, moving forward to take the Innocence just as Yeegar stepped closer to stop him. He had gotten out of his bindings ages ago while they had been waiting. Bookman saw that his hand had reached into his coat for his weapon; things were becoming serious if that was the case, as Kevin was anti-violence. The Arab, noticing this development, pointed his blade at Yeegar's chest, a silent threat.
"You cannot handle the Innocence. It will reject you," Yeegar said seriously, not wavering the slightest in fear of Jahaar. "Please, listen to my words. I do not want to see you injured."
"Step away," Jahaar said, stabbing his machete into the dirt, centimeters from the crown of Darpan's head, "or I'll kill this boy without hesitation."
"You know not what you do," Yeegar said, forced to retreat.
"On the contrary, I know exactly what I do," Jahaar said, moving Darpan's coat back with a quick flick of his wrist. It revealed Darpan's arms wrapped tightly around the Innocence, cradling it against his chest in unconsciousness. "Now, come to me, my sweet. I am your new master." Jahaar's long fingers moved towards the light, looking like the deranged appendages of a greedy spider seeking a meal. He was seconds away from grasping onto it when that light burst into an intensity that rivaled the midday sun. It forced Bookman to shield his eyes and turn away; Kevin and Sagira most likely did the same to save their retinas. When it died down after a few seconds and Bookman was able to look back, he saw Jahaar in the same position, fingertips frozen in mid-air. His eyes were wide and staring, dazed from the brightness, most likely leaving him temporarily sightless, but this did not seem to disturb him. Unable to see, he continued to reach—now blindly—towards the Innocence.
And it reacted violently.
With a force able to break the fragile bones of the human body, the Innocence sent forth a gale of wind that knocked him off his feet. He skidded backwards over the floor, slamming roughly into the nearby wall. When he did not get back up, Jahaar's men put a good amount of distance between themselves and the energy source.
Yeegar got closer.
"Let go of the Innocence, child," the general said, when he was next to Darpan. His voice was a gentle, soothing tenor, but Bookman saw that his apprentice did not move. Either he remained obstinate or Darpan was still unconscious, but in either case, Yeegar had to reach for the Innocence. Like Jahaar, Yeegar was pushed back, though perhaps with less force, as the general only slid back a few feet. When he came back towards Darpan again, however, the Innocence was less forgiving. From the safety of the redhead's arms, the Innocence lashed out with whipping winds. Being sentient, Bookman presumed that the crystal was smart enough to realize Yeegar could not attack it directly while it had a human shield.
Yeegar brought out his own weapon to deflect the attack. A pair of chained pendulums easily sliced through the wind, glowing their own shade of green as they flew with unparalleled speed through the air. Pulsing, the Innocence retaliated. Bookman could feel the amount of energy it gathered, shaking the room with it. Throwing his cloak over Sagira, Bookman attempted to shield her from whatever attack was coming. The room once again was enveloped in white. The last thing Bookman saw through the hurricane-force winds was Yeegar's pendulums slicing through the gales. The last thing he heard was a soft voice on the edge of unconsciousness.
You are the Gray in this world of Black and White.
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When Bookman awoke, it was to sunshine and crisp sheets that smelled like freshly pressed cotton. A sterile smell followed, accompanied by the gentle dripping of an IV. The word hospital came to mind and when Bookman raised his right arm, he saw the plastic tape and thick gauze, solidifying his previous conjecture. Slowly, Bookman began a checklist of his injuries, which mostly consisted of lacerations and bruises. His head was sore as well, but it seemed as if nothing was broken. After trying to move his left hand's fingers and failing to do so, Bookman turned his head to see the reason for its numbness. A warm weight rested there, effectively keeping him from shifting even an inch. It had a shock of red hair spilling out from between the wraps of white bandages.
"He hasn't left your side since he woke up."
At those words, Bookman turned his head in the opposite direction. With his Exorcist coat over his shoulders, Kevin stood in the doorway, a knowing smile on his lips. Stepping inside, he crossed the small room and took a seat on the other side of Bookman's bed.
"Where are we?" Bookman asked.
"Cairo. In a clinic on the south side," Yeegar replied, "the lot of you were badly injured, so I brought you to the closest medical facility." Bookman glanced at his apprentice, who remained sleeping heavily on his left arm. It was a strange image in his mind, to imagine the boy keeping vigil by his bedside. The way his bandaged fingers were clasped around Bookman's wrist silently attested to his concern. Perhaps it was the ordeal, but Bookman allowed himself the smallest of fond smiles towards him. Kevin must have noticed, because it was too obvious not to. "He's a good boy."
"When he wants to be," Bookman answered. The general chuckled. Years had allowed them both to know and understand each other rather well for just passing acquaintances; Yeegar understood the affection that Bookman could never say out loud.
"The girl is with us as well," Yeegar said, changing the subject, "she should be all right in a few days." Bookman did not want to think about those additional injuries he inflicted upon Sagira, nor did he want to ask the question that he knew he must inquire.
"And Seeker?" he asked.
"Beside you," Kevin replied, nodding at Bookman's bedside. A plain, brass tipped urn sat like a black weight beside him. "I was told that was standard procedure."
"Yes," Bookman said.
"The girl did report this, you know," Yeegar informed him, eyes serious.
"Did she," was Bookman's only response. His eyes had once again shifted to his apprentice. Lavi was already disliked enough by the Chancellor. If word got out that he was the one who ended Seeker's life...
"She informed them of the accident, caused by a rebel group of treasure-hunting thieves. Said thieves escaped before I had time to go back for them, but I doubt that they'll be causing any trouble for a while" Yeegar said, but then he must have noticed Bookman's preoccupation because he said: "She did not mention the boy."
"I see," Bookman said, though his relief did not come as quickly as he thought it would. Seeker's urn was there as the solid reminder of what had happened. Surely inquisitors would be coming to collect it. He would not be able to rest easy until it was clearly stated that Lavi was not involved, under any name he might have had during the time.
"Yes," said Yeegar, and that was all on the subject.
"And the Innocence?"
"Retrieved," Kevin said, opening his coat to show Bookman. Inside were several glowing pieces of Innocence that hummed softly with energy. He did not know which one it was, but at least Yeegar had gotten what he came for.
"And I presume your mission is done now," Bookman said.
"Yes, I will begin my return to the Order this afternoon," he replied. Heaviness had settled over his brow like a shadow.
"There is something else," Bookman stated, not asking, knowing that Kevin had something else he was not outright saying. Just as the general knew Bookman's nuances, Bookman knew Yeegar's personality. There was something he was expected to do that he had no pleasure in doing.
"The same topic that has come up for years now," Yeegar said and Bookman shook his head.
"You know the answer already," he replied, not wanting to discuss the matter any longer.
"It's becoming stronger and you understand this," Yeegar replied, sighing as he leaned back in his chair. "The Order knows that you may be a compatible user."
"At my age, I would be rather useless," Bookman said. Yeegar gave him a wry smile.
"Your age has nothing to do with anything. You and I both know that," Yeegar replied with a tired smile. "You are just adamant not to fulfill this role."
"I have a role and this one is enough," Bookman said simply. His gaze was once more drawn to Darpan, who continued to sleep soundly through their exchange. As long as Bookman did not move, he would remain unaware throughout the rest of it, which was all for the better. Yeegar followed his gaze, letting his eyes rest on the boy as well.
"He also shows potential," said Yeegar, pulling out a single cube of Innocence from the inside of his coat. The light pulsated and continued with its low, steady hum of energy. "This is the Innocence that he recovered. It is not a piece that he would be compatible with, as their wavelengths diverge too greatly. But there is a certain resonance... with you as well." Yeegar held the Innocence in his palms, the light illuminating his face. The ancient laugh lines and wrinkles caused by a cheerful past cast shadows, making him look older than ever. "Everyone has the ability to feel Innocence's raw power, but only the accommodators have the ability to produce this reaction. I'm sure you've experienced it before. In fact, I received a report from General Tiedoll not long ago regarding a redheaded boy he noticed in the Ukraine, who made his collected pieces act exactly like this..."
"We have tried to maintain a low profile," Bookman replied, "but sometimes, that is not possible."
"I have said nothing to the Order about knowing you or your whereabouts," Yeegar said, knowing that Bookman always wondered but would never ask. "You remain an illusive possibility that they hope to one day find."
"One day, perhaps, our paths will meet," Bookman answered vaguely, and said no more.
"Very well," Yeegar said, replacing the Innocence back into his coat as he stood up. He was not angry, merely defeated. A war with limited soldiers and an unlimited enemy could do that to a person. Bookman was amazed that a person could harbor no resentment, like Kevin. He truly was too kind. And because of that, when he died prematurely in battle—because he would, Bookman knew—it would be such a sorrowful day. "I hope to see you again, good friend."
"And you as well, good friend," Bookman said. And when he walked out the door, Bookman was left to wonder if he would ever see the kindhearted general ever again.
Something told him he wouldn't.
pqpq
When his apprentice woke, Bookman could tell immediately that it was not Darpan. Perhaps it was from the experience Bookman had in Lavi's mind that allowed him to discern this, realizing that every face he had seen there had been the same, yet completely different. Lavi had a specific presence, not necessarily look, about him that Bookman was easily able to distinguish from Darpan. He had never realized that it was easy to find this discrepancies if he looked and he had not thought about it until that very moment, where Rohan's words rang in his ears We are not Lavi.
"I deleted him," Lavi said quietly, when Bookman questioned him about it. Behind Lavi's chair, the curtains blew gently in the early evening breeze, nearly carrying his voice with them.
"Why is that?" Bookman asked.
"He wanted to be," Lavi answered, and the way he looked guiltily at his bandaged hands made Bookman question him no further. He purposefully turned his eyes elsewhere, unable to look at how much damage the boy had taken from him. While under Seeker's control, Bookman had not realized he was attacking in the first place, and using the full amount of his strength. Where there were no gauze pads or bandages, Bookman could see dark black and blue marks on Lavi's body. "Anyway, Sagira says she's sorry. About hitting your head..."
"Where is the girl?" Bookman asked.
"Still in bed," Lavi replied, his voice low once again. "She had some internal bleeding, they said. And her ribs were in bad shape. But I think she's doing okay. After all, she's yelling just fine..." Bookman said nothing to this, not wanting to imagine the injuries he had inflicted upon that girl. She was barely a few years older than Lavi; still a child.
"I see," he said, noticing that the redhead was anxiously waiting for him to say something to fill the silence. That was all he received and Bookman could tell that it was not what he was hoping for. His expression turned guarded and more apprehensive as the moments wore on.
"Hey, Gramps," Lavi said softly, after a moment.
"Hay is for horses, brat," Bookman replied, just like he usually did. He wondered when that response had become such an easy routine. When he could not remember when it had started, he merely accepted it. In a way, he found it comforting.
"Jiji," Lavi said, and his voice was serious, eye looking straight down as his back became rigid. "Do you...not want me to be your apprentice anymore?" When Bookman did not answer immediately, he launched into an uncharacteristic, rambling explanation: "I mean, back there, I...I k-killed Seeker. I didn't mean to. I just wanted to break the spell and I thought...and then he moved and I...I just wanted to...you...and I..." It was the first time that Bookman had ever heard Lavi so close to hysterics before, so he was stunned into silence. With Lavi's gaze on the floor, Bookman had to wonder if he was fighting tears, as it sounded like it, especially when he said, in the most broken-sounding voice: "I just wanted to protect you...like you've always done for me..." He did not look up and Bookman saw him wipe quickly at his eye with the sleeve of his shirt. When he continued, it sounded as if Lavi had tried to make his voice sound a bit stronger, but could only manage to do it half-way: "But...I understand...if you...don't want me anymore...or if you can't because of what I did...it's okay, it's really okay..."
Why do you sound like you want to die, then? Bookman wanted to ask. Throughout their travels, Lavi, no matter what name he held, wanted to be a Bookman. He trained diligently, even if it seemed like he did not, and soaked up knowledge like a sponge. There were not enough hours in the day for him to absorb history, literature, mathematics and science, but he tried just the same. Even though he still could not cook or make a strong enough arthritis salve, he was learning and everyday was another opportunity to him. Because of the situation, Bookman would admit it, but only this once to himself: Lavi, even with all his quirks and flaws, was the perfect choice to be his successor. The boy who sat diligently through the days and nights by his bedside would be his traveling companion for the rest of his life. There was no one else who could take Lavi's place. No one else who could provide the same amount of insight that Lavi had provided on their journey. And there was no one else who could become the Bookman after he perished.
No one at all, except for Lavi.
It was Lavi and had always been Lavi.
"Do you still want to be my apprentice?" Bookman asked, pretending he did not see Lavi wiping repeatedly at his eye.
"Yes..." Lavi said and his voice sounded thick when he added: "More than anything else..."
"Well, then that is settled," Bookman replied. He placed his palm on top of Lavi's head in a gesture of affection he would never vocalize.
"Junior."
pqpq
So you guys won't be able to see this, because FF. Net is conformist, but this chapter was totally written in a font called Bookman Old Style.
Made. My. Day.
What did not make my day/week? This chapter. It feels terribly shitty. It's all choppy and I just don't know what to do about it. Thoughts? Suggestions? Didn't notice?
-hopeful about the last one-
(Also, please point out any errors you found. I can't proofread this again without wanting to trash the whole thing)
New update either later this week or early next, so long as my writing block doesn't completely thrust my soul into a never ending pit of despair!
Loves muchly,
Dhampir72
P.S. Go read the companion piece for this on my page: Chasm.
(Well, if you want to -hides-)