~ Day Two ~
Wavering Notes
Every day, the streets are crowded with people,
Every night, the streets are jammed with these noises,
Things are so strange… are they real, or a dream?
Where am I now, trapped in this city of illusion?
"I think this one might just be my favorite," Faith mused.
"Really?" Celia asked, glancing at the painting in an effort to disguise her relief.
Unlike most of the other works Celia had shown her new friend, this particular piece had been done painstakingly by hand with pastels. It was her oldest and most precious work; she had kept the original with her over the years, which remained safely tucked away in her closet at home. Only Karen had ever seen it before, until now, when Celia had finally worked up the courage to show it to another.
"Really," Faith said seriously, nodding. "There's something about it that's… different. Besides the style, I mean," he said. He scanned the artwork carefully, a depiction of a young woman and little girl playing in a field of flowers, set against the sunset. "I'm not sure what it is, but this piece feels very… emotional," he said, trying to find the right word to describe it. "It looks so simple in a way, and almost cartoonish."
"I know," Celia admitted. "I drew this when I was first starting out. I wasn't very good back then."
"But you must have spent countless hours on this," Faith observed. "Each flower in the picture is just a little bit different. Every petal is perfectly outlined, and every stretch of grass carefully shaded. It's like this was a real place, and you sat there for hours, recording every last detail you could find." Then he paused and shook his head. "No… it feels more real than that, somehow. It's like you drew this from a memory, or a dream, even, filling in every detail you couldn't remember exactly the way you wished it had been."
A reluctant smile tugged at Celia's lips. "That's pretty closed to what happened," she said. She looked at the painting again, and as she stared at the woman kneeling in the center of the meadow beside the little girl, she felt a lump welling in her throat.
"Are you alright, C?"
Celia looked up to see Faith studying her intently, a concerned expression on his face.
"Me? I'm fine," Celia said, forcing herself to smile. "I'm just glad you like this one. It's one of my favorites, too."
"Is it now?" Faith murmured curiously, measuring her reaction. He then looked back at the painting, and his eyes seemed to shine with understanding. "Of course. That's you in the picture, isn't it?" he guessed tentatively, indicating the little girl.
Celia gently rocked back and forth in her seat. All of a sudden, she began to wonder whether she had truly been ready to show this particular painting to her new friend. She had assured herself that there would be no harm in it, for few would have seen any deeper meaning in the simple pastel drawing of a ten-year-old girl.
Yet part of her must have yearned for Faith to see exactly what he had seen, Celia knew. Again and again, Faith had demonstrated the uncanny ability to see almost exactly what Celia herself saw in almost every one of her artworks.
"This is a picture of my mother and me," Celia explained quietly. "She fell ill when I was only six. For years, Dad and I would visit her in the hospital every weekend. Then, one day, not long after I turned ten, she finally came home. She always promised me that we'd go to the park together when she was better, so that's what we did. It was a beautiful spring day, and the flowers were in full bloom. I had spent years dreaming of that day, and still, it was more wonderful than I could have imagined."
Faith's expression grew somber, and Celia knew that her friend already understood where her story would end.
"That was the last time I spoke with her," Celia went on in the same hushed, reverent tone. "She collapsed the very next day, and we had to rush her back to the hospital. The day after that, she was gone. Dad had been born here, in Washington, but after Mom passed, he didn't want to stay here any longer. He brought me up to Canada instead, to Vancouver where Mom's family live and where she is now. That's when I drew this. That's when I decided I wanted to become an artist one day. Even then, I knew that I'd want to remember that day forever. I knew that I'd want to be able to see every detail again, including those that were already beginning to fade. I hoped, too, that I would one day have other memories like it."
"That's a surprisingly bright way to look at it," Faith said thoughtfully.
"Oh, I know it's odd," Celia admitted readily. "But you understand, don't you?"
"I... I think so," Faith said slowly. "I can't say for sure. None of my memories pop out at me the same way. Still, looking at this drawing, it all makes sense somehow."
"Well, that's good enough for me," Celia said smiling warmly. "You know, even though I've kept this drawing with me all these years, I've only shown it to one other person before. I think most people would only see an ordinary scribble from a little girl's imagination. Dad would understand, but I couldn't show it to him then, and now… well, I'd feel silly showing it to him now. I've only ever showed it to Karen, my roommate. She moved from Washington to Vancouver at about the same time I did, since her parents were struggling to find work here. We met in school and became best friends overnight, pretty much. We even decided to move back here together for college, and have been living together ever since."
"You two are that close, huh?" Faith said thoughtfully, leaning back in his chair. "Well, it makes sense that you've showed her something so personal. I'm surprised you'd show it to someone you hardly know, though."
"Me too. But hey, I knew you well enough to know you'd appreciate it, right?" Celia shrugged. "That's good enough for me. Anyways, thanks for listening to me ramble."
"Any time. It beats loafing around in the office, after all," Faith grinned. "Speaking of which, I really ought to be getting back. See you tomorrow?"
Celia nodded. "See you tomorrow," she promised.
When Celia came to consciousness once more, she found herself lying in the grassy field, a short distance away from where she vaguely remembered blacking out. Every inch of her body seemed to ache, as if reminding her of the previous day's exertions.
For a moment, she wanted nothing more than to close her eyes and sleep. Then she thought of the trials ahead of her still, and of how her own partner could easily be the most frustrating and insurmountable one of the lot, and the urge to give in redoubled.
She forced herself to her feet instead, ignoring the sharp jolt of pain in her arm. "I promised I wouldn't give up," she reminded herself quietly. Once standing, she took a good look around her. Of the other Players who had been gathered around the Space Needle the day before, only Blake remained, who stared at her sulkily from where he was sitting atop the wet grass.
Ignoring him for the time being, Celia retrieved her phone, wondering if the day's mission had already arrived. When she saw that it hadn't, her attention turned to her shoulder wound instead. She saw that her bloodied and torn shirt had dried, clinging unpleasantly to the jagged cut. Gritting her teeth, she peeled the strips of shredded fabric back slowly, wincing in pain.
Only then did Celia realize she couldn't do much about the wound, or her ruined shirt, for that matter. "I really should've tracked down Vivian yesterday and asked to borrow her pin," she lamented. She glanced at Blake, and another possibility occurred to her. Approaching him was quite a daunting task in itself, but she knew she'd have to try sooner or later. "Good morning, Blake," she said as pleasantly as she could manage.
Blake frowned, then looked down at his knees. "Morning," he muttered.
"Hey, you wouldn't happen to have a first-aid pin of some sort, would you?" Celia asked. "My arm's killing me."
"Nope," Blake said, without looking up.
"Oh well," Celia said, trying not to feel too discouraged. "One of the other Players had one yesterday, but I don't know when I'll see her again. What sort of pins do you have?"
"The sort that blows shit up," Blake answered brusquely.
"Ah. That should come in handy if we have to fight more of those Noise things," Celia said, forcing herself to sound as optimistic as she could.
Her phone jingled then, as did Blake's. Thankful for the excuse to break off the conversation, Celia retrieved her phone and opened her latest text.
Leave no escape for the piece that is never captured. You have 240 minutes. Fail, and face erasure.
- The Reapers
Celia looked down at her palm, expecting the stinging sensation this time. The timer appeared again, and the silver numbers began counting down from four hours. "If they're giving us four hours, this must be a longer mission," Celia reasoned.
Blake grunted noncommittally.
"Or maybe they're just giving us some time to solve this riddle," Celia guessed. "Do you have any idea what it means?"
"Why should I?" Blake demanded.
"Sorry. I just thought I'd ask," Celia said, biting back an angry retort. "Let's look around and see if the Reapers left us any hints or something."
"Fine," Blake said indifferently.
Still, Celia wasn't too disheartened. In her mind, at the very least they were making some progress. "Let's go, then."
Celia led the way, wandering along the busy streets with Blake following her grudgingly. They traveled several blocks in this fashion, without a clear destination in mind. Deciding not to push her luck too far, Celia didn't attempt to make any further conversation with her partner, and the two of them plodded on in silence.
Before long, Celia found herself glancing wistfully at the other pedestrians, all of who were painfully unaware of their presence. It was strange, walking along the busy city streets, yet feeling completely alone in the world. At one point, she tried focusing on her Player pin, allowing herself to listen in on the thoughts of those around her. She dismissed that idea quickly, for listening in on the internal monologues of those around her didn't seem to quell her loneliness, and the mental intrusions felt horribly improper.
Then there was a loud, high-pitched cry, and when no one around her reacted to it, Celia knew that it had to be someone with them in the Underground.
When he saw Celia craning her head in an effort to follow the sound, Blake gestured impatiently at the intersection ahead of them. "It came from down there, to the right," he said impatiently.
Celia nodded. "Thanks," she said, then started off that way.
"Hold on, are you stupid or something?" Blake interrupted. "That sounded like someone screaming. Why the hell would we go that way ourselves?"
"Because we don't have anywhere else to go," Celia replied evenly. "We only have four hours, which isn't even enough for us to cover a tenth of the city on foot. We have to start searching somewhere."
"So you want to start our search where other Players are getting erased?" Blake asked incredulously.
"I know it's not a perfect plan," Celia admitted. "But I can't think of anything else. Besides, if it really is other Players who are in trouble, maybe we can help them and then work together with them on our mission."
"Unless we have different missions, or we're competing with them to finish it," Blake pointed out.
"True," Celia conceded. "What do you think we should do, then?"
Blake sighed. "How should I know? Fine, then. Let's get involved, and if we get into a fight, just stay out of it like last time. I doubt you're any good in a fight with your arm messed up."
"Stay out of it like last time?" Celia asked, surprised. "I thought you were…"
Another scream rang out, cutting her short. This time, the sound was far more distinct, and seemed to come from much closer. "Never mind, we'll sort that out later," Celia said quickly. She then set off in a slow jog, doing her best to keep her right arm from swinging too much.
Celia and Blake rounded the corner in a hurry, and found the source of the screams almost immediately. Halfway down the block, two Players had been pinned down by eight Noise hounds, identical to the ones from the day before. One of the two was a middle-aged woman who Celia recognized as the woman that had been sitting on the couch during their briefing, while the other was a younger man who she couldn't quite place.
"Trance Hounds," Celia mumbled, remembering the name by which her Player pin had called the Noise.
"What?" Blake asked her blankly.
"Never mind," Celia said quickly, knowing that she didn't have time to explain. She unclipped her stylus pin, and moved to join the battle. But even as she began approaching the nearest Noise, she saw, to her horror, that she and Blake were already too late.
One of the Trance Hounds had managed to slip around the middle-aged woman. It pounced upon her from behind, clamping its jaw down upon her neck as she collapsed. She screamed, then went silent. Abruptly, her partner collapsed to the ground, too. Both Players faded from sight, and the eight hounds seemed to merge into four.
The Noise then promptly rounded upon Celia and Blake.
This time, Celia knew better than to try to run, especially now that she was no longer entirely defenseless. She stood her ground, holding up her stylus pin in her left hand. The oblivious pedestrians, the cars on the road, and Blake all disappeared, leaving her facing the four Noise alone.
The large, floating stylus appeared at her side, and she began picturing the flames she had used to destroy the Noise the day before. She stopped almost immediately, though, realizing she could not hope to avoid the four Noise long enough to erase them one at a time. Instead, she imagined the wildfire once more, and focused this time on the trees.
Her stylus danced ahead of her, drawing several jagged lines. As the hounds surged forward, desiccated trees sprouted from the asphalt below, trapping them in a makeshift prison. The pack of Noise howled and whimpered, but Celia only concentrated on her stylus, adding more winding, knotted branches to the prison.
"Fuel the flames and watch them burn," Celia whispered to herself, willing her stylus to ignite.
Her blazing stylus plunged into the dense and dry overgrowth like a spear. Hungering flames roared forth, devouring the offered prison and the captured Noise within it.
As the Noise faded from sight, the others on the street reappeared, as did Blake, who looked thoroughly perplexed. "What… what just happened?"
Celia considered her answer carefully. "You tell me," she finally said, for while she had a vague idea of what was happening, she wanted to know what Blake had seen, too.
"The Noise came after me, and you disappeared," Blake said. "I hit one of them pretty hard, and then all of them just sort of faded away."
"How many were you fighting? And how many did you see earlier when they were attacking the other two Players?" Celia pressed.
Blake eyed her strangely. "There were eight earlier. Then they combined into four," he finally answered.
Celia nodded, for it more or less confirmed her theory. "Blake, when the Noise were attacking the other two Players, did you see how they were all partially transparent? Both the Noise and the Players?"
Blake nodded silently.
"I think… there were really only four Noise," Celia began hesitantly. "Yesterday, when we fought that Noise, I couldn't see you at all. The same thing happened just now, too. When we get attacked, I think we have to fight them on our own."
"So when we see other people fighting Noise, we're really watching two fights at once," Blake said, catching on quickly. "But then, why did the Noise I was fighting just disappear?"
"Because we're still fighting the same Noise," Celia guessed. "I trapped all four of the Noise in a fire. Since I erased them, they disappeared from your fight, too."
Blake looked at her skeptically. "You erased them?" he asked disbelievingly.
"I think so," Celia said. "I must have erased three of the Trance Hounds, at the very least, if you were only attacking one of them."
Blake narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously. "Trance Hounds? How do you know what they're called?" he demanded.
"Focus on your Player pin and the Noise, and the pin will tell you," Celia explained.
"My what?"
"Your snowflake pin. I think everyone was given one of those," Celia said. "I spoke with some other Players yesterday. They said one of the Reapers called them Player pins. If you put it on, it tells you more about the Noise. Also, you can sort of hear people's thoughts."
Blake gasped. "You can read my mind?" he asked, horrified.
Celia frowned, for it had only just occurred to her that she had never heard the thoughts of another Player. "I don't think so. I think it only works on living people and Noise. When I used it on the Noise yesterday, I heard Michael's voice, but I didn't see him anywhere nearby."
Blake seemed oddly relieved. "So, these Reapers know more about the Game, huh?"
"Yeah, but Laura and Vivian said the Reaper who spoke with them tried to erase them once they were done talking," Celia cautioned. "I don't know if asking the Reapers for help is such a good idea."
"Oh, I wasn't thinking about asking," Blake said, grinning wickedly. He reached into his pocket and retrieved a pin, flipping it casually through the air.
"That's not a good idea."
Celia and Blake both turned to see Graham approaching them, Jason following in his wake.
"Reapers are supposed to be a lot more powerful than Players, but they generally aren't allowed to attack us directly," Graham explained.
"The worst they can do is throw Noise at you, and there seems to be limits on that, too," Jason added. "But Players aren't supposed to attack Reapers, either. If you decide to attack one, all of those rules will go straight out the window, I reckon."
"Leave the Reapers alone, and… well, they won't necessarily leave you alone, but you get the idea," Graham summarized.
"Oh, that's reassuring," Blake grumbled.
"Thanks for the heads up," Celia said.
"No problem," Graham replied. He frowned, noticing the large tear in Celia's shirt, and the prominent gash exposed beneath it. "You really should get that cleaned up," he remarked. "I'm not sure if our wounds can get infected while we're in the Underground, but there's no reason to risk it. Besides, it can't be comfortable."
"I know," Celia said, tugging at her damaged clothing. "But I can't exactly just walk into a store and buy a first-aid kit when no one can see us."
"Actually…" Graham began, but before he could say anything more, Celia suddenly clapped one hand over her forehead.
"Of course! Why didn't I think of it sooner?" she exclaimed, retrieving her pin. Her magical stylus came to her side and began to draw, as she imagined a first-aid kit laden with bandages. When her drawing was complete, the lines solidified, and a red satchel decorated with the traditional first-aid icon plopped to the ground.
"Is that your psych?" Jason asked, impressed. "That's pretty badass."
"Psych?" Celia asked. She knelt down and opened the kit, mentally crossing her fingers. She smiled, immensely relieved, when the sight of reels of linen and tubes of various ointments greeted her.
"That's what the Reapers call our pins' abilities," Graham explained. "Every Player gets different pins, and not everyone can use every pin. I was only given one pin myself, which Jason couldn't use. I tried using his pins, too, and only one of them worked for me."
"I see," Celia said thoughtfully, though privately, she wondered how much use the information would be. With only one pin, she wasn't about to lend it to anyone, and she suspected her partner wasn't big on sharing. She began fumbling with one of the bandages, trying awkwardly to stretch it over her own shoulder.
"Do you need a hand?" Jason offered politely.
"Would you? Thanks," Celia said gratefully, as Jason knelt down beside her, gingerly binding the wound. "So, what do you guys make of today's mission?"
"It's not what I expected, that's for sure," Graham said. "Jason and I thought it might have something do with chess, since in a game of chess, the king is never taken."
"The riddle said not to leave that piece any escape, right? That's literally what a checkmate is," Jason explained. He tightened the last bandage, causing Celia to flinch. "There you go. How does that feel?"
"Better. Thanks again, Jason," Celia said. Then, as she began considering their mission again, her expression became a thoughtful frown. "If your guess is right, the mission is just asking us to win a specific game of chess, isn't it? Do you think it could have something to do with that giant chessboard in Pioneer Square?"
Graham and Jason exchanged surprised looks.
"I can't believe we didn't think of that ourselves," Graham lamented.
"It makes perfect sense," Jason agreed. "That old neighborhood is practically a tourist attraction in itself, these days; I'm sure the Reapers were expecting that we'd know of it."
"And that giant chessboard is lying in plain view, at the side of the street," Graham added.
"Then that's probably our mission," Jason said. "All we need to do is get to that chessboard and beat the Reaper there at a game of chess."
"Or play against and defeat another Player," Blake pointed out, joining the conversation at last.
"Maybe," Graham conceded, though he didn't seem convinced.
"Why don't we just head over there now and take a look?" Celia suggested. "It's no use standing here guessing; we don't even know for sure whether or not that's really the right chessboard."
"Or whether the riddle is actually about chess at all, for that matter," Graham agreed. "To Pioneer Square, then."
"Alright, here we are," Graham declared, when the Seattle City Hall came into sight. "Jason, which way is it to the giant chessboard?"
"No idea," Jason frowned. "Is it down at the City Hall Park, maybe?"
Graham turned to Celia instead. "Celia, do you know where that chessboard is?" he asked hopefully. Only then did he realize that Celia wasn't really following their conversation anymore. "Celia?"
"Guys, I don't think we'll be needing that giant chessboard," Celia said uneasily. "Look over there, down by James Street."
There was a strange sculpture ahead of them, standing at the center of the intersection Celia had indicated. The statue was fully ten feet in height, tall and large enough to be clearly visible from where they stood over a hundred feet away. It was shaped like an armored medieval soldier, complete with a classical European broadsword and kite shield. However, its head was a perfect sphere, with no distinct features whatsoever. The entire statue appeared to have been drawn from thick, black lines, bearing an unmistakable resemblance to the Noise they had battled.
"Is that meant to be a pawn?" Jason asked, fascinated.
"It has to be," Graham said. "What do you think, Jason? Do we approach it? Or leave it alone?"
"Dude, do you know how long it's been since I've last played a game of chess?" Jason laughed.
"Well, pick one," Graham urged impatiently.
But even as they were trying to decide, the strange Noise advanced, taking about twenty steps forward before stopping. "I don't know if leaving it alone is an option. Running might be, though," Celia murmured.
"Screw this, then," Jason said. "If this really is a glorified game of chess, and our opponents are giving us a free piece, I say we take it."
"You're on. Leave this one to us, Celia," Graham nodded. With that, he and his partner drew their pins and raced forward. Once they reached the Noise, two Trance Hounds appeared to flank them. The pawn-shaped Noise and both hounds each split into two. All of the Noise and both Players became translucent as their battle began.
Behind Celia, Blake started laughing.
"What's so funny?" Celia asked, turning around.
"Those two idiots are going to get themselves killed," Blake said scornfully, shaking his head.
"They seem to be doing alright," Celia said, watching as Graham hurled a volley of small fireballs at one of the two images of the pawn Noise.
"Of course they are," Blake said in a patronizing tone. "Pawns are the weakest pieces in chess, but good Players don't throw them away needlessly. If this mission really is a chess game, and whoever we're playing against knows what he's doing, that pawn is just a sacrifice to lure us out of position."
"You mean it's a trap?" Celia gasped.
"Probably, but who knows what the rules…" Blake began.
But Celia had already started running towards the other two Players.
"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Blake demanded. When his partner showed no signs of turning back or even slowing, he let out a loud groan before reluctantly giving chase.
Celia finally stopped, just past where Graham and Jason still appeared to be battling the pawn, allowing Blake to catch up.
When Blake reached her side, he dropped to his knees, panting heavily. "What's the big idea?" he wheezed angrily.
"You were right, Blake," Celia said, indicating another fast-approaching Noise. Like the pawn, it appeared to be a humanoid statue, but this one appeared to be clad in thick robes. Instead of a sword and shield, it carried a large scepter, and its head was a rounded, conical shape with an odd edge cut into it. "That's a bishop, right?"
"That's time for us to leave," Blake corrected.
"No," Celia said, shaking her head. "If we leave now, Graham and Jason will have to fight both of them at once."
"And that matters to us… how, exactly?" Blake asked.
"It matters because I'm not going to leave them to die, or get erased, or whatever. Besides, we're working towards the same mission. Helping them is also helping ourselves, in the long run," Celia insisted. "Get your pins…"
But before she could finish her sentence, the bishop arrived. Then, to Celia, it looked as if everyone else had disappeared, leaving her alone with the Noise. She focused on her Player pin, first, and Michael's soothing voice rang out in her mind.
"Classical Bishop. This powerful Noise ambushes its targets from great distances, and sends forth other Noise to do its bidding while it strikes from afar. Clear away its minions quickly so you can approach it safely."
Two small shadows appeared beside the bishop, as a pair of bird-like Noise creatures comprised of intermingled black and golden lines descended to join the battle. Then a primal roar shook the air, and a bizarre claw-like shape emerged from the ground. It gripped the asphalt tightly, and a massive, ursine Noise with blue fur and orange markings pulled itself out of the ground.
"Electro Finch. These swift-flying, evasive birds are fragile, but difficult to hit. Mosh Grizzly. Massive bears with tattoos for arms. When enraged, these thick-furred beasts howl viciously, vastly increasing their strength."
Even before Michael's description of the two types of Noise ended, the two birds launched themselves skyward once more, and the bear began lumbering forward.
"The birds, first," Celia decided quickly. She began backing away, trying to imagine a weapon capable of dealing with the birds. Her thoughts settled on the first Noise she had encountered, and the bow Lauren had used to shoot it.
Her stylus appeared at her side. Two carefully-measured strokes left behind an elegant arc and a thin, straight line. The two then materialized into an elaborate wooden bow, and three shorter strokes left behind an arrow with white fletching and a shining silver point. The bow drew back, seemingly under its own power, and the arrow shot forth towards one of the two Electro Finches.
But the targeted flying Noise proved faster, narrowly avoiding the arrow as it swooped down at Celia. Its companion dove, too. Reacting quickly, Celia willed her stylus to draw a quick grid, which became a fine mesh net that hung between her and her attackers, stopping the two birds in their tracks.
Then the bear tore straight through the net with its claws without pause. Celia stumbled back with a yelp, trying to stay out of the mighty creature's reach. As if it could sense its master's distress, Celia's conjured bow moved between her and the approaching Noise. Celia only just found the presence of mind to imagine a second arrow, which soon whistled forward, plunging deep into the bear's chest.
The bear hardly noticed the meager projectile, and Celia scrambled to her feet and began to run, remaining only a step ahead of the monstrous Noise's paw.
"Helping ourselves my ass," Blake griped, as he found himself suddenly facing the quartet of Noise alone. Not bothering to scan his enemies as Celia had done, he grabbed one of his pins and flicked his wrist outwards, throwing a lance of raw, blue energy at the bear. The lance crackled as it sailed through the air, neatly impaling its target.
The bear staggered back, but the two birds dove upon Blake, slashing at him with their claws. He managed to turn away from one, but the other clipped his cheek, leaving three deep scratches. Angrily, he directed his pin upward, and firing off another magical lance. His second shot flew wide by several feet.
Blake swore loudly. "Why the hell am I doing this, anyways," he grumbled. "I should've just stayed dead. I'm going to end up that way anyways, if I keep letting my talentless hack of a partner drag me into every trap these Reapers laid for us."
The birds dove again, but Blake switched his pin for two others. With a thought, he simply vanished into thin air, reappearing in front of the massive bear Noise. Behind him, the two birds turned sharply, turning aside only just in time to avoid crashing into the ground.
The bear roared, but Blake only eyed it dismissively. "You think you're tough, eh?" he growled.
Silvery-blue chains erupted from the ground, wrapping around the bear's neck and wrists. The chains then retracted, dragging the bear to the ground and binding it in place. Blake coolly exchanged pins again, and after flashing the ensnared Noise a triumphant grin, conjured up another magical lance.
Celia knew she couldn't run forever. The bear would almost certainly catch up to her, and even if it didn't, she couldn't abandon her partner to fight the Noise alone.
Yet at the same time, she wasn't sure what she could use to stop the massive creature. She considered calling for a hunting rifle, or better yet, an assault rifle.
When she turned and found the bear standing right in front of her, all thoughts of trying to sketch a firearm fled her, and she imagined a wall instead. Her stylus swept I front of her, leaving thick gray lines which quickly coalesced into a concrete wall.
The bear's tattooed claw stabbed through the wall, shattering it into hundreds of pieces. Then the bear stopped, and loosed a ferocious howl that shook the air around it.
"Oh, no," Celia whispered, her eyes widening in fear as she recalled her pin's warning.
But then the bear staggered backward. Its form crumbled into lines of static, which quickly faded, and only the bishop and two birds were left.
The birds swooped down on Celia again, but with a mere thought, she rewove the net she had used to stall them earlier. This time, she drew the net larger, and when the birds crashed into it, she willed it to wrap around them. Both of the flying Noise fell to the ground in a tangled heap. With a quick gesture, Celia sent her stylus up high. Trying to think of something heavy, she looked at her surroundings, and spotted the empty street side parking spots all around her.
A small van appeared over the captured Noise, before plummeting atop the two Electro Finches with a deafening crash.
"Go away, damn it!" Blake roared in frustration, as the two flying Noise continued spiraling around him, pecking and clawing at him from every direction. As he weaved around the aerial pests, a bolt of lightning struck him squarely in the chest.
Standing a safe distance away, the bishop twirled its scepter, which began glowing with energy. Then it brandished the scepter forward, hurling another bolt at the vulnerable Player.
Blake threw himself flat to the ground to dodge the second bolt, then rolled to the side, coming to a rest on his belly. He then sprang to his feet, and to his surprise, the two bird Noise were no longer anywhere to be seen.
Not one to question his luck, Blake charged the bishop. "Alright, you pointy-headed bastard. You're mine!" he cried.
Sidestepping another bolt of lightning, Blake exchanged his pins once more. A massive axe with a twelve-foot shaft appeared beside him, parallel to the ground with its handle pointed at the bishop. The axe then swung in a full 180-degree arc, dropping its heavy blade and upon the bishop and cleaving it neatly in two.
The two halves of the bishop split apart and became nothing more than fuzzy lines of static. Then they disappeared, and everyone else on the street, both in the Underground and otherwise, reappeared.
Celia approached Blake tentatively, unnerved by his livid expression. "Thanks for erasing the bear when you did," she said timidly.
"Shut up," Blake said.
"Hey!" Jason protested, prompting Blake to turn to him instead.
"You're welcome," Blake spat angrily. "And next time, try using your brain a little. I mean, seriously. A free piece?"
"Why, you…" Jason growled.
"Jason. Let it go," Graham said, placing a hand on Jason's shoulder. The blond turned towards Celia and Blake. "You're right, Blake. That was pretty dumb of us to run in like that. Thanks for bailing us out back there. You too, Celia."
Blake muttered something incoherent, then marched away without another word. Celia thought to go after him, but he didn't go far, coming to a stop just down the block.
"What the hell is that guy's problem?" Jason grumbled.
"I don't know, but we still have a mission to take care of," Graham reminded. "I bet there's more Noise around here like the two we just battled, including the king that we're searching for."
"We should try to find the other Players," Celia offered. "We only have two hours left. Even if all the pieces are here in Pioneer Square, the four of us won't have enough time to fight our way past all the extra pieces."
"Good idea, but I'm not sure where we'd begin with that, either," Jason pointed out.
"Right here," Celia answered, for she had spotted a pair of familiar faces down the street perpendicular to the one along which they had been traveling. "Laura! Vivian!"
Laura and Vivian turned towards the sound of her voice, and their expressions lit up. At the same time, four others who appeared to have been traveling with the two women turned, too. Together, the six of them began making their way towards Celia, Graham, and Jason.
"They must be Players, too," Graham mused. "I guess we're in luck."
Celia began to nod in agreement, but froze when a flicker of motion along one of the side streets caught her eye. "Look out!" she cried out in warning.
Another pawn identical to the one Graham and Jason had battled marched into the street, shortly followed by two more just like it. The three of them were joined by a fourth Noise, which resembled a knight mounted on horseback. The mounted Noise leapt high into the air, soaring over the two pawns easily to land directly next to the approaching Players. A pack of Trance Hounds appeared, too, and a dorsal fin appeared in the ground, as if it were part of a piscine Noise capable of swimming through the ground.
"More Noise," Jason groaned.
"We'd better help them," Graham said. "Will you be alright here alone, Celia?"
Celia nodded. "I'll try and talk Blake into helping, too," she offered.
"Yeah… good luck with that," Jason said dubiously, before he and Graham set off in a hurry.
Once they were gone, Celia turned in search of Blake. She was half-relieved to see him walking towards her already, but his grimly inscrutable look didn't offer her much comfort.
"We aren't going out there," Blake declared flatly. "Or at least, I'm not going out there. Since you can't do anything by yourself, there's little sense in you going alone, unless you want to be erased."
Celia sighed. Twisted as Blake's logic was, he wasn't exactly wrong. "So, what? Do you want to stand here and watch while the Noise erase them? Or are we going to leave and try to finish the mission?"
"You don't get it, do you?" Blake said, shaking his head. "Getting caught up in that battle is just about the dumbest thing we could do. Look."
Obediently, Celia turned and watched as the other eight Players broken into four pairs. The Noise army had swelled, too, joined by another pair of bishops and three more pawns. "So they're badly outnumbered now," she observed. "But unless you really think we can finish today's mission and the next five on our own, that's more of a reason to help them, isn't it?"
"Are you fucking kidding me?" Blake groaned, shaking his head. He took a deep breath. "Look. In chess, sacrifices are made. No game ever ends with a Player still having all his pieces, and more importantly, the longer the game goes, the fewer pieces are left."
"Okay, but…" Celia began to interrupt.
"Just shut up and listen for a moment!" Blake ordered. "Each side only gets two bishops, normally, but I already took one out, remember? How can there possibly be two more down there attacking the other Players?"
"Whoever's playing against us has more pieces than he should have," Celia guessed. "So what?"
"So if he has three bishops, why not four? Why not ten?" Blake reasoned. "Our opponent could have a hundred pieces lying in wait, for all we know. The more time we wasted trying to take pieces that don't matter, the more Players we'll lose. See? There goes two right now."
With a jolt, Celia glanced at the battle again, noticing immediately that only six Players remained.
"If you'd like to be erased here, fine. I'm long past the point of caring what happens," Blake said. "But if you really want to help those Players, or if you actually care about surviving this game, do something intelligent for once."
Celia winced, stung by the harsh words. At the same time, there was an undeniable measure of truth to Blake's tirade. "I'm sorry, Blake," she apologized. "I don't play a lot of strategy games. I should've realized that you'd know better, and asked you for your help sooner."
Celia half-expected that remark to set her partner off again, or for her partner to dismiss her once more, but to her surprise, Blake shifted uncomfortably and looked away. "I'm no chess grandmaster, either," he mumbled.
"Maybe, but you know more than Graham, Jason, and I combined," Celia urged. "You're absolutely right; if we want to help the others, we'll have to finish this mission quickly. I'm not sure how we can do that, though. Could you help me, please?"
Blake didn't answer right away, and instead lapsed deep into thought for several agonizingly long seconds. "Where are we?" he demanded suddenly.
"We're in Pioneer…" Celia began.
"I know, Pioneer Square. I'm not deaf," Blake said, cutting her off. "Where are we relative to where we woke up this morning? West?"
"We're southeast. West would have taken us straight into Puget Sound," Celia answered.
"Which way were we walking when we ran into those other guys?" Blake asked.
"I think we were walking east," Celia said, straining to remember.
Blake nodded. "The Noise chessmen have been approaching from the south, while we all started in the north. If it's at all like a real chessboard, the king should have started out in the south, too. He might still be there," Blake reasoned.
"Are you sure?" Celia asked hesitantly. "If you imagine a square with the Space Needle somewhere on the northern edge, part of the southern edge would be underwater."
"Of course I'm not sure," Blake said scornfully. "But it's the best I've got to offer. We can try it, or we can stand around here trying to think of a better plan."
"Let's try it," Celia decided quickly. "You lead the way, okay?"
Blake shrugged indifferently. Then, ignoring the nearby battle entirely, he chose one of the roads south that seemed clear of Noise and set off without another word, leaving Celia to chase after him.
"Are we still headed the right way?" Blake asked, staring at the assorted banners and signs hanging from the nearby street posts.
"Yeah. We're in the International District now," Celia replied. She, too, turned to take in her surroundings, and almost immediately spotted a pawn Noise west of them. "Blake, look," she said.
"Ignore it," Blake said disinterestedly. "In chess, pawns only move forward, except when capturing enemy pieces. I'm not exactly sure how that translate into this mess, but all of the pawns we've seen have been moving north, too."
"Oh. Alright," Celia said.
"Come on, this way," Blake urged. He rushed across the street, then turned a sharp right, moving to the nearest corner. Then, without waiting for Celia to catch up, he turned again, sprinting towards a nearby parking lot.
When Celia caught up at last, she found herself and Blake standing at one end of the empty lot. Across from them stood six Noise. Celia immediately recognized four of them: two pawns, a bishop, and a knight. One of the remaining two resembled a castle, and the last could only be the king.
The king looked strikingly out of place beside his Noise minions. The other pieces were comprised of bold black lines, without any sort of facial features, but the king looked like a real human, a middle-aged man with thick, graying hair and a prominent beard. His golden crown glinted, and his jeweled scepter was far grander than the dull black implement wielded by the bishop. A pair of spiky black wings emerged from beneath his fur cloak, drooping to either side of him.
"The king is a Reaper!?" Celia gasped.
"Looks like," Blake said.
Celia concentrated on her Player pin, idly wondering if it could give her access to the Reaper's thoughts. Instead, Michael's voice floated hazily through her mind.
"Rex Cantus. Wilson's Noise form. Avoids direct confrontation when possible, and commands an army of self-tailored Noise to fight in his stead."
"What's the pin telling you?" Blake asked curiously, too lazy to retrieve his own Player pin.
"Not much," Celia admitted. "The Reaper's name is Wilson, I guess, for whatever that's worth."
"Useful," Blake sneered.
Celia and Blake stared at the Noise. Rex Cantus only stared back patiently, wearing a confident smile.
"He's waiting for us to make the first move," Blake guessed.
"Correct, Player," Rex Cantus replied in a bold, authoritative tone. "My Noise represent the black chessmen, thus our game begins with your first move."
"Funny. It looked like your pieces were moving whenever they felt like it," Blake pointed out dryly.
"Your pieces remained in perpetual motion as well," Rex Cantus countered. "There is little coordination to be found upon such a vast playing field, but our game here will abide a different set of rules."
"Are we supposed to guess at what those rules are?" Blake asked sarcastically.
"Of course not. How would that be fair?" Rex Cantus laughed. "My rules are quite simple. Once you and your partner step onto the lot, we will take turns moving. On your turn, you or your partner may move up to four tiles in any direction you'd like. Should either of you ever occupy the same tile as one of my Noise, you will be forced to do battle with that Noise and every other Noise capable of attacking that tile. Should you threaten the tile upon which I stand, I will be forced to move or otherwise cut off your approach. Should you leave me with no escape, you, the Players, will have won."
"Tiles?" Celia asked.
In answer to her question, the white lines of paint marking the parking spaces vanished, and new lines appeared, forming a grid. "Step onto the lot and let us begin," Rex Cantus invited. "Unless you'd prefer to let other Players answer my challenge instead."
"Tempting, but I'm not about to stake anything on their wits," Blake said. He stepped out onto the lot, then gestured for Celia to advance as well. Once both of them were on the board, he advanced four squares along the grid.
In answer, the pawn in front of Blake advanced, though it remained several squares away. Blake glanced over at the other pieces for a moment, then moved diagonally until he was past the pawn. When he came to a stop, the castle-like Noise moved across the entire lot to stand at Celia's side.
Celia glanced nervously at the approaching Noise, focusing on her Player pin.
"Classical Rook. A Noise that remains immobile once the battle begins. So long as it remains intact, it will shield any of its allies within the zone, rendering them invulnerable."
"Great," Celia muttered.
"Three squares forward, Celia," Blake ordered.
Celia obediently moved as he had asked, and this time, the knight on horseback moved in answer.
"There you go. Take my knight, and it'll be mate in three," Rex Cantus offered.
"Sure, if by 'three' you mean fighting three Noise at once," Blake said sarcastically.
"But of course," Rex Cantus laughed. "Vanquish those three Noise and your mission is complete. Are you up to the challenge? Or would you rather keep dancing around my pieces while the other Players struggle in the north?"
Reminded of the other Players, Celia measured the distance between her and the knight, and saw that she, too, could reach the knight in a single turn. "Alright, then," Celia declared.
"No, stop!" Blake cried. He was too late, though, for Celia had already advanced one tile forward. Celia froze, afraid to make things worse.
"Really, dear, if you were going to advance, you should have simply taken the knight," Rex Cantus chided. His rook moved backward to stand abreast of the knight. He grinned at Blake. "Mate in four?"
Celia shot Blake an apologetic look, but he held up his hand to silence her. "Don't move," he ordered, gauging the angle between Celia and the knight. He himself then advanced until he stood directly to the side of the pawn. "Check."
Rex Cantus bowed his head acceptingly. Then he turned and took a step to his left, moving away from Blake.
"Either you're holding back, or you're truly terrible at this game," Blake chortled.
"Believe what you will," Rex Cantus replied mildly.
"Hey, you!" Blake called to Celia. "Move back one square."
"Oh? Sacrificing your partner to my knight? How chivalrous of you," Rex Cantus teased.
Celia looked over at the knight, who loomed over her threateningly. She swallowed nervously. "Are you sure?" she asked.
"Yes, I'm sure," Blake answered impatiently. "The bastard's just messing with your head. We can take one Noise if he moves the knight up to capture you."
Celia nodded. Then, taking a deep breath, she backed up to the square behind her.
"Well reasoned," Rex Cantus congratulated. "If I advance the knight now, and you two are able to defeat it, either of you would be able to end the game on your next turn."
"Are you going to take her or not?" Blake asked impatiently.
The knight began to move, but rather than advancing towards Celia, the horse seemed to spring to life, leaping over the bishop to stand between its king and Blake. In answer, Blake moved past the pawn and stood beside the knight.
"Go on. Take me with your pawn," Blake taunted.
But Rex Cantus didn't rise to the bait. Instead, the rook slid up towards Blake, leaving the teen trapped between three pieces. "You may remove that pawn from the board now, if you'd like," Rex Cantus suggested.
"No thanks," Blake said. He waved Celia forward. "Two squares forward, one right." After Celia did as he asked, he turned back to Rex Cantus. "Check."
The knight moved back to its original post, blocking Celia's path. Blake then weaved past the rook. "You've got nowhere to run. Attack me with the knight, and you're vulnerable to my partner. Is this checkmate, or do we still have to erase your one knight?"
"Checkmate indeed," Rex Cantus nodded. "A flawless victory. Well played." He gestured briefly, and all five of the other Noise disappeared.
"That's… that's it?" Celia asked. She looked at her palm, and the timer, which still read an hour, faded before her eyes.
"That's it," Rex Cantus confirmed. "Until we meet again." He flexed his wings, which disappeared along with his crown, cloak, scepter, and elegant clothing. Instead, the same man stood before them, now wearing a regular flannel shirt and ordinary blue jeans. He turned and strolled away casually, and suddenly, the parking lot was full of cars, and the lines shifted to marking the spaces once more.
Celia sighed in relief. "We made it. Good going, Blake."
Blake ignored her and began marching towards a wooden bench at the edge of the lot, about twenty feet from the entrance of the nearby shopping center.
Celia hastened to catch up to him. "Umm… I'm sorry for moving earlier," she apologized. "I know it was stupid, but when he spoke of the others, I panicked, and…"
"Quit apologizing," Blake said brusquely. "We're done with the stupid mission, so forget about it." He plopped himself down onto the bench and closed his eyes.
Celia stared at him helplessly for a moment longer, then sat down beside him.
Then she leapt back to her feet, for there was a large man with vaguely wolfish features standing in front of them, leering at her maliciously.
"Tired, are we? That's a shame. The day isn't quite over yet, after all," the man purred.
"Who are you?" Blake demanded, opening his eyes.
The mysterious man laughed, and a pair of wings sprouted from behind him. "Bradley Dolphus," he said extending a hand towards Celia, who was closer.
Celia eyed him nervously, and made no move to shake the Reaper's hand.
"Ah, so the savagery has already begun, then?" Bradley grinned. "Such is the life of the pack leader, I suppose. Thankfully, as the alpha, I care little to banter with my next meal. Gather, wolves!"
He waved his hand, and a black sigil appeared before him. It pulsed with energy, and six Trance Hounds suddenly appeared out of thin air, surrounding Celia and Blake.
"These are supposed to be wolves?" Blake frowned, hopping to his feet. "They look more like puppies to me."
"Puppies, eh?" Bradley grinned wickedly. "We'll see about that."
With that, Celia and Blake both found themselves alone with the Noise, as the six Trance Hounds closed in.
Right away, Celia saw that her trick with the trees wouldn't work a second time. The hounds had her surrounded, and even with how fast her stylus could draw, she couldn't hope to finish the barrier in time.
As that thought crossed her mind, she sent her stylus up into the air, hovering above her head and lying parallel to the ground. It spun like a compass, leaving a red circle, which fell and burst into flames.
The Noise began prowling the barrier, barking and snapping viciously, but none of them dared to leap through.
Standing within the ring of fire, Celia felt the sweltering heat of her own flame shield intensely, which left her dizzy and disoriented. She knew she wouldn't have long, though, and forced herself to focus. Thinking of the Reaper's wings, she sent her stylus behind her, where it began to draw once more. By the time the flames faded away, Celia was floating several feet in the air, suspended by a pair of shimmering, multi-colored wings shaped like those of a butterfly.
Only four hounds remained, and Celia knew that Blake must have already erased two of them. One of the remaining hounds leapt up, snapping at her heels, but she only drifted up higher and out of its reach. Then, with a few quick strokes, Celia sent a boulder tumbling downwards. The Noise below scattered, nimbly avoiding the first boulder, but Celia continued to draw, and the deadly avalanche persisted until it pummeled the remaining hounds into nonexistence.
Celia touched down lightly beside Blake, her winds fading away. Blake hardly seemed to notice her, and continued scowling at Bradley, clenching his pins tightly in his fists.
But the Reaper only smiled.
"Was that really the best you could do?" Blake taunted.
"Hardly. My pack is endless," Bradley assured. "I wonder, can you and your partner hold out until the Game Master declares the day to be over?"
But before any more Noise could come to the Reaper's call, his sigil abruptly shattered.
"I'm afraid the day is already over, Mr. Dolphus."
"Michael!" Celia gasped, immediately recognizing the tall and beautiful blond man who had appeared behind the Reaper.
"Is it now?" Bradley asked, feigning surprise as he turned to the face the blond.
"Yes, it is. Furthermore, you have already exhausted the supply of Noise allotted to you for today," Michael added, in a tone that made it clear he wasn't fooled. "Move along, Reaper. There is nothing more for you here."
"Yes sir," Bradley said, bowing his head deferentially. Then he turned and strolled away, his wings fading from sight moments before he disappeared around the nearest street corner.
"My apologies, Miss Celia, Mr. Daniels," Michael said. "Some of our Reapers are still learning their limits. Are you two alright?"
Blake shot Michael an untrusting look. "I'm fine," he said shortly, before plopping himself back down on the bench.
"Yeah, I think we're doing okay," Celia agreed, though even as she spoke, she noticed just how exhausted she felt.
Michael seemed to understand at once, and smiled kindly at her. "It's a little overwhelming, isn't it? You look like you've had a pretty rough time, Miss Winter, but you seem to have weathered the storm quite well."
"Thanks, I think…" Celia said. As she spoke, she peeked at her bandaged shoulder, and was relieved to see that Jason had done a very thorough job in binding her wound. "Hey, Michael? Or, umm…"
"You may call me whatever you like," Michael said, guessing what was on her mind.
Celia nodded. "Michael, do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
"Ask away, and I will answer what I can," Michael said invitingly.
"Who are you?" Celia asked.
Michael gave her a strange, inquisitive look. "I should not answer that," he admitted. "But I will. I am the Producer, though it will be some time before you understand the significance of that. Think of me as a guardian of this game."
"Umm… okay," Celia agreed, though that didn't seem to mean a whole lot, either. "The Reaper who just attacked us mentioned a Game Master. Who's the Game Master?" she asked.
"The Game Master is the individual charged with administering the Game. He is responsible for writing the missions. He also determines which Reapers are permitted to contest the Players, and how they will do so," Michael explained. "Once the mission is complete, he brings the day to an end, putting the remaining Players to sleep."
"If the Game Master writes the missions and sends the Reapers after us, does that mean we're playing this game against him?" Celia asked.
"Indeed," Michael answered. "In fact, Players and Reapers are forbidden from attacking each other directly until the seventh day. On the day of the final mission, Players will be allowed to attack the Game Master, and vice versa. Traditionally, the final mission entails defeating the Game Master."
Celia frowned, unsettled by the thought of battling the de facto leader of the Reapers. "What's the Game Master like?" she asked tentatively. "Is he strong?"
"Strength is… relative," Michael said carefully. "Like most of the Reapers strong enough to achieve such a high rank, the Game Master can infuse himself with Noise, assuming a powerful shape known as a Noise form. In addition, our present Game Master possesses remarkable talent with pins and psychs. Though the two of you have already been acquainted with our Game Master, you have yet to see his full potential."
Celia swallowed nervously, and glanced out towards the now-busy parking lot. Blake's first guess was on the mark, after all. Rex Cantus, or rather, Wilson, had been holding back.
"So, if we're finished with today's mission, why hasn't the Game Master ended the day yet?" Celia asked, trying to blot out the thought of battling an entire army of Noise chessmen.
"There's no hurry," Michael shrugged. "We've decided it best to offer all of you Players a brief respite before forging on towards our next mission."
Blake snorted.
"Yes, Mr. Daniels?" Michael asked, smiling pleasantly at the teen.
"A brief respite, with Reapers breathing down our neck?" Blake said. "What's the point when no one in the real world can see us, anyways?"
"The Reapers are not supposed to attack you once the mission is complete. Hence, my intervention today," Michael said, unbothered by Blake's sour demeanor. "As for the purpose of such a respite, you may wish to spend this time getting to know your partner better. If not… well, it's not entirely true that no one in the Realground can see you."
"It's not?" Celia asked, her interest piqued.
"Look over there, on the window," Michael said, indicating the supermarket behind Celia. "Do you see how the same symbol that adorns your Player pins has been painted there? Several locations in this city have been marked in such a manner. At these locations, you may interact with the Realground and its denizens, to an extent. However, anyone who may know you will have a difficult time recognizing you, and you will find yourself unable to speak of your present condition, or of anything else pertaining to the Reapers' Game."
"What sort of places are open to us?" Celia asked intently.
"Oh, all sorts of places. For instance, I know of at least one department store you could visit if you'd like to replace your clothing," Michael suggested. "And while there is no need to eat while you are here in the Underground, several restaurants have been opened to you."
"How long do we have until the day is over?" Celia asked.
"An hour, perhaps?" Michael guessed. "If you have a destination in mind, I can speed you on your way."
The offer was tempting, but Celia knew too that there could be other Reapers like Bradley lurking around, willing to break the rules. Understanding that she couldn't go alone, Celia looked towards Blake, wondering if she could persuade him to accompany her. "Blake, do you mind?"
Blake matched her stare for several long seconds. Then he sighed. "Sure. Whatever."
"Where would you like to go then, Miss Winter?" Michael asked.
"Could you send us back to where we woke up this morning?" Celia requested.
"As you wish."
There was a blinding flash of light, and when it faded, Michael was nowhere to be seen. The mysterious white-suited man had been true to his word, though, for Celia and Blake found themselves standing right where they had started out, in the middle of a grassy field a short distance from the Space Needle.
"Not that I really care either way, but there's no guarantee your favorite clothing store will be open," Blake pointed out dryly, as he followed her from the field. "You should've just asked Michael to take you to the department store that's open."
"I'm not shopping for clothes," Celia replied, briskly following a route that had become intimately familiar to her over the past few weeks.
"Where are we going, then?" Blake demanded impatiently.
"There's some place I have to see," Celia answered evasively.
Blake groaned in dismay, but he didn't have to wait long. Their destination soon came into view, prompting an even louder groan. "We came all the way back here for coffee?"
Celia shook her head quickly. "No… I just… there's someone I need to see," she said.
"Michael warned us that no one who knew us would recognize us, remember?" Blake reminded.
"I know, but… he'll recognize me. I know he will," Celia insisted. Her heart began pounding as she neared the doorway, searching for any sign of the snowflake insignia. When she saw the small symbol painted in the upper right corner of the doorway, she nearly cried out in relief.
But just as her hand closed over the handle, she spotted the person she had been searching for, approaching from across the street. "Faith!" Celia cried out joyfully.
Blake looked up, too, and when he recognized the approaching man, his expression grew stony.
As Faith walked towards them, Celia stared at him eagerly. "Go inside," she pleaded. "Please, Faith. Go inside."
But Faith didn't turn into the coffee shop. He walked straight past them instead, a sizeable shopping bag swinging at his side.
Crestfallen, Celia watched helplessly as her friend strolled away without taking note of her.
"What did you expect?" Blake asked dryly.
Celia glared at him, but said nothing. Instead, she turned and raced after Faith, pausing only to unclip and stow her Player pin. She wasn't certain why she was chasing after someone who couldn't see her, particularly when she had no interest in prying into his thoughts. Perhaps she was still subconsciously hoping that he would miraculously sense her presence, or perhaps she simply wanted to remain with him a little while longer. Whatever the reason, she continued tailing Faith until he came to a stop halfway down the block.
At first, Celia didn't understand why Faith had stopped. Then she saw why he had come, and tears sprang to her eyes. They had come upon a small shrine standing at the edge of the sidewalk. The memorial was laden with many bouquets of tastefully-arranged flowers, and at its center was a framed photograph of her own smiling face, adorned with several scribbled messages. Celia paid the words little attention, but in that brief glimpse, she spotted Karen's familiar, messy scrawl among them.
Celia slowly stepped past the memorial, feeling as if her feet had somehow turned to lead. She looked into her friend's face, watching as Faith removed his glasses. Though outwardly, he looked exactly as Celia remembered, there was a somber, defeated look in his eyes.
"I'm… I'm so sorry, Faith…" Celia whispered guiltily, as she felt a wave of guilt pressing down upon her.
"Hello, C," Faith greeted quietly. He set down his shopping bag and reached within, pulling forth a vibrant bundle of assorted flowers. "What do you think?" he asked, holding the flowers out towards the photograph. "The florist gave me the oddest look when I picked these out. Then, when I told her it was for a girl I knew, she spent nearly twenty minutes trying to convince me to get you a bundle of roses instead. I thought you'd like these better, though. When I walked into the store and saw all the different flowers they had, I couldn't help but think of… well, you know."
Celia only nodded numbly, for indeed, she saw a striking familiarity in the bouquet Faith had chosen.
Faith's lips curved into a slight smile, and Celia's heart leapt as she dared to hope she had been noticed. Her heart sank a moment later, though, when Faith continued speaking as if she wasn't there. "Maybe you don't know. Maybe I'm just being silly," Faith chuckled self-deprecatingly. "Though, speaking of silly, I have something else for you, too." He reached into his bag once more, emerging with a pair of laminated, white cardboard cases. "Remember how I told you about all the odds and ends we get in the office? I thought you would've liked these two."
Faith opened the cases carefully, one at a time, and laid them upon the memorial beside the flowers. Inside the elongated box was a small, elegant glass feather, perhaps two inches long. The square box held a pin, much like the two that Celia now carried.
"I hear these pins are all the rage in Japan," Faith explained, lifting the pin and twirling it lightly between his fingers. "Naturally, my business partner found it necessary to order ten cases of them. Now there's a few hundred of these things lying around my office. I thought you'd like the pattern on this one, though." He replaced the pin gingerly, pressing it into the foam pad resting within the box. "I thought the feather looked kind of neat, too. I hope you like them, though I honestly haven't the slightest idea what you would've have done with them if you were still… here."
Celia smiled sadly. It was just like Faith to bring her a couple beautiful baubles with no practical use. Baubles that she treasured nonetheless, for they meant that even while going about his everyday things, he had been thinking of her.
Faith took a step back from the shrine, and stared at it longingly for several seconds. "Your father came by the other day. At least, I think he was your father. I thought about saying something to him, but… well, I wasn't sure what to say," Faith said. "He must have taken you home by now, I imagine…"
Faith fell silent, and for a long time, he stood there motionlessly, deep in thought.
Then all of a sudden, he closed his eyes and began speaking again. "I still see you… every time I close my eyes, I see you lying there on the ground," he whispered hoarsely. "I remember pulling out the knife, and trying to stop the bleeding with my hands. I remember holding you, and looking into your eyes. I remember how… how scared you looked. I was scared, too. I wanted to comfort you… to help you… I wanted it so badly, but I… I just… I felt so powerless."
Celia bit her lip tightly, her feelings of guilt resurfacing tenfold.
"I should have shouted out to you sooner," Faith rambled on, his voice trembling as he spoke. "Or I should have arrived earlier so that I could've met you and your friend at the bus stop. Or I could have called you, and asked to meet somewhere else. How many things could I have done differently that morning, I wonder?"
"No… no, Faith. It wasn't your fault," Celia protested.
"I had every chance to make things different," Faith said. "But I didn't. All I did was kneel at your side, whispering idle promises to you as I watched you die."
Suddenly, as if he couldn't bear to look at the memorial any longer, Faith turned away, looking out into the street. "Celia, there's… there's something I have to tell you. Something you probably already know, but still…"
Faith took a deep breath.
"I killed him," Faith admitted. "I shot the man who stabbed you. I didn't mean for him to die; I just needed to stop him, so I fired without really thinking about it. I didn't even realize what I had done, until after you had… until after you were gone. Then I turned to him, and saw that he was dead, too. Did he deserve to die, I wonder? I want to believe he did, after what happened to you, but whether he did or not, it doesn't really matter now. He's dead, and I'm the one who pulled the trigger. I took someone's life away. I was just like him."
"No, Faith. You're not like him," Celia said. "You're nothing like him at all, Faith."
"I've been thinking about turning myself in," Faith continued. "Somehow, the cops still haven't found me out. Your roommate must have gotten a good look at me, but she seems to be keeping quiet. I thought there would've been more witnesses, too… but I guess not."
A sickening knot tightened in Celia's stomach as she imagined her friend being arrested, forced to stand trial for trying to save her life.
"I don't know what I'll do, C," Faith said listlessly. "Would you think anything less of me now, knowing what I have done? I feel like such a coward, but I know if I come clean now, they'll ask me to recount everything that happened. I'll have to relive it all again, and I… I don't think I can face that right now."
Faith gathered up his empty shopping bag and sighed. "Can you forgive me, Celia?" He inhaled deeply. "We'll meet again one day, C. I'm sure of it. Until then… I guess this is goodbye."
Is it angels? Is it devils?
Whispering in my ear,
Is it emotions? Is it illusions?
I need to be with you…
Author's Note:
Lyric's taken from Long Dream.