LUCKY THIRTEEN
"Now, could you remove these?"
Amon almost shouted at Raven and Nycole as he gestured to the still glowing runes on his upper arm. The two glanced at each other mischievously. They had placed the runes in Nocturne as a curse. Anyone who dared transgress against the trust and sanctuary of the club would find the runes upon them as a mark of their sins. The worse the crimes were, the worse the burns inflicted would be. They could ruin a person's life. Teiwaz brought justice down upon the criminal, while Hagalaz followed it by terrible discord. Naudhiz, in the long run, constrained the criminal, dampening any Craft within the marked individual.
The curse, in Amon's case, had worked perfectly. Teiwaz brought justice. The former hunter found himself on the receiving end of their gifts. Hagalaz brought the discord of his life thrown into chaos by the members of the Nocturne staff. And Naudhiz? Amon's marks, his connection to Sakaki, and his destiny bound him to that ragtag band.
Sakaki had been roused and sent to shower, to get fully woken up and conscious. Once the young man left, led out of the room by Kathain, Amon had the opportunity to request the runes' removal.
Nycole folded her arms across her chest, still bitter that they were taking Sakaki to God knows what prison or jail. "What do you say?"
"Please…" Amon snarled, trying to regain composure. "Please, remove them."
The empath held an unusual expression of devilish glee at the thought of forcing the man to be civil and polite. "There you go. That was all you had to say." She pointed to a chair. "Now, sit, please." Amon did; Nycole sat next to him. "Be calm, and relax."
"I am calm," Amon lied.
"This will only hurt for a minute,"
xxxx
Dark.
The realm of Amon's mind was dark. Nycole could have laughed. It seemed so terribly fitting that the hunter's mind was that bleak and… well.. angsty was, perhaps, the best term for the mood. It was so melodramatic and dank. This was most certainly the mind of a man who tortured himself day in and day out.
Nycole wondered what about.
She didn't have time for that, as the empath came across a towering, ebony monolith, inscribed with the burning rune marks. She sniffed. How Amon had trumped up the runes. The more dark, jealous, and fearful energy the hunter had placed in the runes, the more he threatened vengeance for the marks, the bigger the problem they became. Nycole greeted the monolith, built upon a foundation of her own energy. The light sparkled, calling to its master in welcome.
"Hey…" the empath whispered, almost sorrowfully that it was her work that brought such troubles to the group of witches.
Yet, it was Amon's fault. He had trespassed upon Nocturne, broke the peace treaty, and attempted the hunt them. He betrayed his own friend, Sakaki. He tried to hurt them, tried to kill them. She was surprised the rune marks hadn't burned through his arm and lopped off the limb by now. Nycole couldn't be nice to him, not at all. Nor could the telepath pity Amon for the punishment he received for his own crimes.
Nycole dissipated the energy with a gentle, careless motion, and the monolith collapsed. She went to leave, but something caught her eye. A massive wall of blood, bone, and stone. Amon had walled something in, even within his own mind; Nycole curiously pondered what the hunter had found to be so evil, so terrible within his own heart and soul. Her own wonder got the better of the telepath as she wandered closer to the wall.
There came a scream from the inside, shrill, yet masculine, like a young boy. In fact, like a young Amon. Nycole's blood froze nearly solid at the sound. A cold shiver rushed up and down the telepath's spine, from her head to her toes.
Nycole tapped her foot. "Ok… so here's the part where I make a choice."
The screams were muffled, dulling down to a whimpering, a sobbing and crying. The soul behind that wall sounded pained, in grief and sorrow.
"To screw around, or not to?" the telepath weighed her options.
Ah, but the temptation was too great, even without her friend and usually partner in crime, Kathain. Nycole snickered to herself as she approached, knowing Amon deserved every bit of pain and torment she let loose from his own mind.
"Tear down the Wall! Tear down the Wall!" She chanted demonically.
The telepath/empath turned her attention and entire focus on the looming fortress before her. She let loose her full powers, in white hot flame, flashing lightning, and snapping lions. Her energy tore away at the wall fiercely, despite the glimpses of sadness and evil that slipped through the cracks. Nycole vengefully ripped away at the energy, feeling the wall's structure fail.
It could never have lasted.
Nycole was an atomic bomb. The wall was an anthill. Amon's shields stood no chance against the telepath. The fortress collapsed, shattering away. The empath smiled to her self and waltzed over the rubble of Amon's mental wall.
"You shouldn't be here."
Nycole swatted the voice away. It was just Amon's own self defenses. The girl continued, deeper into the man's mind. The darkness swallowed her up, until Nycole found herself in an entirely different place.
She was in an apartment, a small one by American standards, but a large one by Japanese standards. It was furnished nicely, obviously of a family that would be of upper middle class in America. Nycole couldn't tell on Japanese economic classes. A woman sat on the couch trembled, her black hair tossled in her face.
Nycole tiptoed into the room. Broken glass stabbed at her suddenly bare feet. The empath gave a quick glance to the small cuts on the bottoms of her feet, but continued on. She ignored the woman, who was obviously an uncontrolled witch, newly awakened. Another appliance shattered, as light bulbs exploded.
The scream of the boy came again.
Nycole moved around the couch, looking to the closet. She slid open the door, and found a little boy, covered in blood and slashes. The boy threw his body back, into the far reached of the closet, which is to say, not too far. Nycole, at any other time, would have laughed upon seeing this childlike version of Amon, but the combination of her rage and sadness prevented the empath from doing so.
This was Amon.
This woman, she was his mother. He couldn't have been much older than six, and he had to watch his own mother awaken, in a violent manner. And, judging from his wounds, the bulk of the woman's violence had been directed at the boy. Nycole choked back her sympathy, remembering who this man was and what he had down. She looked behind the six-year-old, spying a rectangle of light behind the boy.
She hugged the boy, pulling him out of the closet and sitting him down on a chair. "Now, you stay here. You're ok now, ok?" The boy didn't answer; he obviously didn't speak English. Nycole sighed. "Why can't people make their subconscious representations easier to deal with?"
She turned away from the child and back to the closet, crawling in.
"No," the boy called, proving her wrong.
Nycole glanced over her shoulder. "So, you do speak English?" He nodded. "I'll be ok. I'm just going to look at something."
"You mustn't," the boy warned.
The telepath grinned madly. "Oh, but I must."
"No!" he shouted. "You can't go in there!" The boy ran to her, grabbing Nycole's arm. "You can't!"
"Get off!" Nycole shouted.
The boy bit her in the arm sharply. Nycole shrieked in anger and pain, shaking the boy off her arm and slamming the closet door shut beside her. The six-year-old pounded on the outside of the door with his little fists but could not get in. Nycole checked her arm as her eyes adjusted to the dim light, spying the little, red, bite mark.
"I'll remember that the next time I think about having kids," the girl sighed.
She looked to the door. It was small, marked with strange glyphs that probably only made sense to Amon himself, and only when Amon was but six. This door. It had to be the right one. It had to be the one everything Amon kept hidden behind. Nycole licked her lips in anticipation, placing a hand on the small, wooden door and feeling the energy swelling behind it.
"Ah, Amon, the present I'm going to give you, you sonovabitch."
xxxx
"There. Done."
Amon opened his eyes, immediately looking to the place on his upper arm where he'd been burnt. The runes had healed, leaving only faint, pink, raised scars where once smoldering wounds had been. He would probably always be marked by those symbols, a lasting reminder of the witches of Nocturne.
"Thank you," he replied, forcing his own manners.
Sakaki stumbled out from the bathroom and into the living room, dressed in clean clothes and showered. "Amon, Karasuma." He scanned the room, finding the third hunter. "Robin."
"Sakaki, come with us. It's time to go."
The man hung his head down, but nodded slowly. "I know."
"Sakaki!" Nycole cried out. "You can't." She hugged him, burying her head in Haruto's chest. "You can't just leave us, just go willingly to whatever they're going to do to you."
"I trust them," the man breathed. "Besides. I said I would go so long as they left you alone and unharmed." Haruto stepped free from her embrace. "I gotta make good on my word so they'll do so, too." The man looked to Amon. "I have to. I know Amon won't do anything to me that I didn't deserve."
The tall man didn't say anything in regards to that last bit.
"C'mon, Sakaki."
xxxx
Return to the STN? Separation? You didn't think it'd be that easy, did you? Alrighties- I'm tired, you'll just have to sit tight for another 24 hrs at least.