Author's Notes- Yay another update! I got two hours to write this chapter which is just as long as I had to write Chapter 7, so I think I smell another winner. All I've thought about over the past few weeks is this book and the thought of losing a love, yeh, that's up. I would say it, but stars seem more appropriate for a book supposing rated PG-13, I've been getting a tad bit vivid lately, Chapter 7's new female character seems to have been a little more rated R but as long as I don't describe her.... talents... I should be fine. I felt like a character like that would be cool, I'm sorry if you feel pissed off. But any hoot, if you ever need to get away from something that's pissing you off, check out this website, ?id=5, and the game Madness Interactive, it's a great stress relief, I've been able to play it and forget everything that happened that day. But if you're religious it might offend you, blasting Jesus' head off with a shotgun is kinda raunchy. But it doesn't look real, it'd be rated M. But enough for the lousy commercials... After a review from Ceres, and reading his 'Ten Commandments On Writing a HDM Fanfiction', I've been thinking about keeping Arhen and Mabelyrian as the new main characters, and normally that wouldn't be a Fanfiction but if I keep the rest of the crew in there somewhere with only a few chapters centered around them I think it might be better.
"Listening to rock music at full blast in the middle of the night is a bad idea, it you up..."- Someone in a chat room I was in last night.
"On an empty shelf
In an unfilled cupboard,
In a bare room,
In the house of my mind,
Lies a box filled with memories,
Put away to never to be seen.
Never again."
-Craig Schwarz- from "My Attempts at Being Deep"
To whom I donate this chapter.
Chapter 7
The Boy, the Man, and the Knife
Midsummer. The man slumped down in his chair, the pistol still tracing Will's chest. Will, Mary, and Elizabeth were crunched into a corner of the small shack, the building smelled of rotting flesh and dried blood, Shawn had moved the corpse, but not soon enough to prevent the horrible stench of death. The man's wrist facing outward, Will craned his neck to see the wrist watch still in position there. He cursed under his breath, five to twelve, and even if he could get out, he was over an hour by car from Oxford.
He slumped down against the bare wall at his back.
"You will get the shards."
Will looked up slowly to see Shawn standing above him with the pistol pointed downwards. "Now?"
The man looked ready to kick Will, he stalled as if considering the action, but kicked him anyway before nodding.
Will stood up and his body ached from the action, he'd been up too long for this kind of stuff, and his lack of sleep was making him more and more irritable. If the man kicked him again he'd be ready.
The men indicate the two women still crammed into the corner, "You too..."
The other two stood up and, walking abreast, they walked towards the entrance of the run down shack. Shawn followed close behind, he had adorned a concealing trench coat as his partner had, and Will wondered if it had been the same one. The man pointed to the car as Will had expected and they, for the second time, got into the old sedan. Will tried to sleep during the car ride, but the constant bouncing of the rickety car kept him in an eerie half-sleep in which he could still see the front of the car, and at the same time the first images were blurred with dreams of his Lyra.
He awoke the hour later as the car pulled into Ms. Malone's driveway. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes he noticed embarrassedly that his face was wet. He quickly rubbed his sleeve across his face. The four shuffled out of the car and the three doors slammed in a shower of rust. Will looked up at the familiar house that had become his home.
The two story building was painted a light shade of blue, and the door, white. The garage protruded from the front-right of the buildings an extra twenty feet, and on the left, the doorway was sheltered by a slanted overhang with gutters lining the lowest part to allow runoff.
The four walked into the house, with Shawn in the rear, as always, carrying around his gun concealed.
"Get em', and get back."
Without turning around Will nodded and took the stairs to his right two at a time. Eager to be away from Shawn and the gun, if only for a small time. At the top of the flight he turned right into the study that Mary had made out into his room.
At the far side of the room, behind a large oaken desk, a single door lay almost completely hidden from view, and would only reveal itself if someone were to look directly at it.
Will walked up to the desk and pushed it far enough to the right so as to open the door far enough to reach an arm in and withdraw the old shoebox. He ripped off the tape around the border and opened the box, unprepared for the memories ready to spring out and hit him down.
He looked down into the contents of the box, what must've looked like random doodads to anyone else, but what held the most horrible memories to him. He picked up each of the objects in turn, turning each one in his hands as it played its part in the story running through his mind. The lacquer spyglass, a yellowed shard of grass from the grove where himself and Lyra uncovered their true feelings for one another, other organic objects from their treks through the worlds. Will handled each of the shards delicately, each one still sharp enough to cut through his hand like a hot knife through butter. And most memory provoking one of the red fruits from the wheeled animal's world. A single tear fell unhindered down his cheek, and remembering a time when once Lyra's own tear had done the same, it brought more, and it just recently dawned on him that he had missed the noon hour of midsummer's day ,sleeping in a car, had decreased his mood even farther.
He carefully picked each of the shards out from the box, thumb and forefinger holding the flat of the blade between them, and carefully dropped them back into place inside the sheath.
"Hurry up, and don't try anything fancy!"
Will looked around the room for the last time, he had felt Kirjava's presence near him and looked around for her. His curiosity was soon downed as the cat-formed daemon leapt in from the open window sill. Will placed the sheath onto the table, and picked Kirjava up in his arms. She purred contentedly.
She nuzzled his face, and with her soft fur against his face, he wished he could stay here forever. However his bliss was short-lived as the ugly Irish voice called out from the lower floor.
"Get down here!"
"Kirjava," Will whispered, "you have to stay away."
The daemon looked up at him with a firm look in her eyes, "No," she said solidly, "I won't let this happen to you... the witches said that all people in our world had daemons, but that they couldn't see them."
Will nodded in agreement, with hope brimming. "You can see them?"
Kirjava shook her head, and Will's hope faded. "But I know what and where it would be."
Footsteps on the stairs.
Kirjava jumped lightly down from Will's arms and padded softly toward the left of the doorway. Will could feel it inside himself as she tensed, ready to spring. And she could feel his own nervousness.
The man crashed into the closed door with brutish strength, and not even trying the door knob, knocked it off its hinges. Splinters of wood flew every which way, but Will and Kirjava were lucky enough to not be pierced.
The man's face was bright red, and blood was flowing down several punctuation points, where he had been unlucky enough to catch a splinter, not to mention his right arm which hung limply at his side. Seeing Will there, he growled and spittle flew out of his mouth. Will took a step back from the man's fervor, why was he so intent on getting the knife?
As the man stood there breathing heavily, Kirjava lunged into the air to his left on a collision course with his left leg. But halfway through the dive she stopped in mid-air and hung there. With her teeth clenched around some invisible force.
The man gave a startled grunt as he felt the pain of his invisible daemon, he reached into the trench coat, and pulled out the gun with his left hand. Will noted how his hand swiveled about, and the pain of his impact, the pain of his daemon, and the left not being his strong hand, Will could tell that he would have trouble aiming.
Will tackled into the man's side and ripped the gun out of his weak hand. He took a few uncertain steps backwards and held the gun steady, he had no intention of shooting, but intimidation was a powerful ally.
Running backwards through the destroyed door frame, with the gun pointed back, and Kirjava walking beside him, Will quickly made his way down the stairs. Concealing the gun inside his pocket he addressed Mary and Elizabeth's confused stares.
"Hurry, he's upstairs, stunned..."
The two women nodded and ran for the front door. As Will's hand went out to turn the knob, the door slammed inwards with such force that Will was knocked back, landing on his side, his vision was blurry and before he blanked out he could barely discern a shimmering ray of light morph into the shape of a human being.
Will shook his head to try and clear his vision, and wondered if he had just died.
"Listening to rock music at full blast in the middle of the night is a bad idea, it you up..."- Someone in a chat room I was in last night.
"On an empty shelf
In an unfilled cupboard,
In a bare room,
In the house of my mind,
Lies a box filled with memories,
Put away to never to be seen.
Never again."
-Craig Schwarz- from "My Attempts at Being Deep"
To whom I donate this chapter.
Chapter 7
The Boy, the Man, and the Knife
Midsummer. The man slumped down in his chair, the pistol still tracing Will's chest. Will, Mary, and Elizabeth were crunched into a corner of the small shack, the building smelled of rotting flesh and dried blood, Shawn had moved the corpse, but not soon enough to prevent the horrible stench of death. The man's wrist facing outward, Will craned his neck to see the wrist watch still in position there. He cursed under his breath, five to twelve, and even if he could get out, he was over an hour by car from Oxford.
He slumped down against the bare wall at his back.
"You will get the shards."
Will looked up slowly to see Shawn standing above him with the pistol pointed downwards. "Now?"
The man looked ready to kick Will, he stalled as if considering the action, but kicked him anyway before nodding.
Will stood up and his body ached from the action, he'd been up too long for this kind of stuff, and his lack of sleep was making him more and more irritable. If the man kicked him again he'd be ready.
The men indicate the two women still crammed into the corner, "You too..."
The other two stood up and, walking abreast, they walked towards the entrance of the run down shack. Shawn followed close behind, he had adorned a concealing trench coat as his partner had, and Will wondered if it had been the same one. The man pointed to the car as Will had expected and they, for the second time, got into the old sedan. Will tried to sleep during the car ride, but the constant bouncing of the rickety car kept him in an eerie half-sleep in which he could still see the front of the car, and at the same time the first images were blurred with dreams of his Lyra.
He awoke the hour later as the car pulled into Ms. Malone's driveway. As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes he noticed embarrassedly that his face was wet. He quickly rubbed his sleeve across his face. The four shuffled out of the car and the three doors slammed in a shower of rust. Will looked up at the familiar house that had become his home.
The two story building was painted a light shade of blue, and the door, white. The garage protruded from the front-right of the buildings an extra twenty feet, and on the left, the doorway was sheltered by a slanted overhang with gutters lining the lowest part to allow runoff.
The four walked into the house, with Shawn in the rear, as always, carrying around his gun concealed.
"Get em', and get back."
Without turning around Will nodded and took the stairs to his right two at a time. Eager to be away from Shawn and the gun, if only for a small time. At the top of the flight he turned right into the study that Mary had made out into his room.
At the far side of the room, behind a large oaken desk, a single door lay almost completely hidden from view, and would only reveal itself if someone were to look directly at it.
Will walked up to the desk and pushed it far enough to the right so as to open the door far enough to reach an arm in and withdraw the old shoebox. He ripped off the tape around the border and opened the box, unprepared for the memories ready to spring out and hit him down.
He looked down into the contents of the box, what must've looked like random doodads to anyone else, but what held the most horrible memories to him. He picked up each of the objects in turn, turning each one in his hands as it played its part in the story running through his mind. The lacquer spyglass, a yellowed shard of grass from the grove where himself and Lyra uncovered their true feelings for one another, other organic objects from their treks through the worlds. Will handled each of the shards delicately, each one still sharp enough to cut through his hand like a hot knife through butter. And most memory provoking one of the red fruits from the wheeled animal's world. A single tear fell unhindered down his cheek, and remembering a time when once Lyra's own tear had done the same, it brought more, and it just recently dawned on him that he had missed the noon hour of midsummer's day ,sleeping in a car, had decreased his mood even farther.
He carefully picked each of the shards out from the box, thumb and forefinger holding the flat of the blade between them, and carefully dropped them back into place inside the sheath.
"Hurry up, and don't try anything fancy!"
Will looked around the room for the last time, he had felt Kirjava's presence near him and looked around for her. His curiosity was soon downed as the cat-formed daemon leapt in from the open window sill. Will placed the sheath onto the table, and picked Kirjava up in his arms. She purred contentedly.
She nuzzled his face, and with her soft fur against his face, he wished he could stay here forever. However his bliss was short-lived as the ugly Irish voice called out from the lower floor.
"Get down here!"
"Kirjava," Will whispered, "you have to stay away."
The daemon looked up at him with a firm look in her eyes, "No," she said solidly, "I won't let this happen to you... the witches said that all people in our world had daemons, but that they couldn't see them."
Will nodded in agreement, with hope brimming. "You can see them?"
Kirjava shook her head, and Will's hope faded. "But I know what and where it would be."
Footsteps on the stairs.
Kirjava jumped lightly down from Will's arms and padded softly toward the left of the doorway. Will could feel it inside himself as she tensed, ready to spring. And she could feel his own nervousness.
The man crashed into the closed door with brutish strength, and not even trying the door knob, knocked it off its hinges. Splinters of wood flew every which way, but Will and Kirjava were lucky enough to not be pierced.
The man's face was bright red, and blood was flowing down several punctuation points, where he had been unlucky enough to catch a splinter, not to mention his right arm which hung limply at his side. Seeing Will there, he growled and spittle flew out of his mouth. Will took a step back from the man's fervor, why was he so intent on getting the knife?
As the man stood there breathing heavily, Kirjava lunged into the air to his left on a collision course with his left leg. But halfway through the dive she stopped in mid-air and hung there. With her teeth clenched around some invisible force.
The man gave a startled grunt as he felt the pain of his invisible daemon, he reached into the trench coat, and pulled out the gun with his left hand. Will noted how his hand swiveled about, and the pain of his impact, the pain of his daemon, and the left not being his strong hand, Will could tell that he would have trouble aiming.
Will tackled into the man's side and ripped the gun out of his weak hand. He took a few uncertain steps backwards and held the gun steady, he had no intention of shooting, but intimidation was a powerful ally.
Running backwards through the destroyed door frame, with the gun pointed back, and Kirjava walking beside him, Will quickly made his way down the stairs. Concealing the gun inside his pocket he addressed Mary and Elizabeth's confused stares.
"Hurry, he's upstairs, stunned..."
The two women nodded and ran for the front door. As Will's hand went out to turn the knob, the door slammed inwards with such force that Will was knocked back, landing on his side, his vision was blurry and before he blanked out he could barely discern a shimmering ray of light morph into the shape of a human being.
Will shook his head to try and clear his vision, and wondered if he had just died.