The Nycren

  “Rage, I can explain,” I shout as I try to dodge his blows.

  “There’s nothing to explain. That Replay is recent. I can tell by Ameana’s hair. You fucked my fiancée and now I get to kill you.”

  He grabs the small metal table at the center of the yard, swings it high above his head and slams it into me. The blow has the force of a Goumy induced hurricane. The potted plant that served as the centerpiece of the table smashes to the ground. Rage lifts the table again for round two but I quickly move out of the way and he misses.

  This is by far the hardest fight I have ever been in. It’s not that Rage is faster or stronger than me; the problem is I don’t want to fight him. He has a right to his murderous rage. My only goal is to reason with him; not to attack him.

  “We didn’t do it on purpose, I swear,” I shout back at him.

  He pulls the metal table apart and uses one of the legs as a spear. He aims to send it right through my chest. I hold my hands out in front of me like a human trying to talk a raging bull out of charging.

  “Rage, don’t. Let’s talk—”

  He hurls the metal rod at me with every intention of killing me. I take to the air just in time to avoid being impaled in the chest. I am quick but not quick enough. The rod hits my right leg and penetrates clean through the other side. I roar in agony as the rod tears into my flesh.

  My leg is bleeding profusely, making it difficult to stay in the air. Rage follows me in the sky but there was no need, I can’t stay in the air with my leg this badly damaged. I land and Rage lands right beside me.

  He takes advantage of my injury, knocks me to the ground and starts to pound my face in. His blows are fast, hard and merciless. I grab the remains of the table and hit him with it.

  I don’t use enough force to injure him but I do manage to throw him off of me.

  “I just want to explain how it happened,” I tell him as I try and lift myself off the ground.

  “Fuck you and your explanations,” he spits.

  I manage to get up but it takes a while because my right leg is completely useless. In addition I can no longer see out of my right eye thanks to the pounding Rage gave the right side of my face. Just when I get back up, he tackles me and sends me flying into the wall of the house.

  Rage is very serious about not wanting to kill me quickly. He could have sent a fireball for me and ended my life right there. Instead, he grabs the nearest brick and bashes me in the head with it repeatedly.

  I realize there is simply no way to talk to him unless I have the upper hand. I ignore the shooting pain steadily traveling through my body. I summon up as much strength as I can and send Rage flying into the living room.

  I spot a reel of Samson String a few feet away. I grab hold of it and I tackle Rage before he can rebound from the fall. I manage to tie up both his hands and feet. He is livid and now more than willing to use firepower, that is if he can break free from the Samson String.

  Before I can try to reason with him, I need to tend to my leg, my busted forehead, and swollen eye. I quickly gather what’s left of the Blocker Tony gave us and place it on my wounds. It stops the bleeding but does nothing for the searing pain.

  “Are you ready to calm down now and let me explain?” I ask.

  “Fuck you.”

  I guess that’s a “no” but I know I have to try anyway.

  “We were drunk. I just found out about my mother and Ameana thought you were never going to forgive her. We did a stupid, crazy thing and we’re sorry. Please believe that,” I tell him.

  “Untie me,” he demands.

  “Rage, I don’t want to fight with you.”

  “I don’t give a shit what you want.”

  “Okay, I’ll set you free and if you want to kill me then have at it. I just want you to remember one thing: She loves you. More than she ever loved me or anyone for that matter.”

  “Yeah, I saw how much she loves me on the Replay,” he says filled with bitter disdain.

  “That was one moment; one stupid, foolish moment. You and Aaden are her world. If you break up with her over this, she’ll be crushed. That means Aaden may not have a soul to feed on.”

  “You asshole! You really would use my son against me?”

  “No, I just want you to remember what’s at stake. Kill me, if that’s what has to happen. But doing that won’t change what we did. And breaking up with the only girl you love, the mother of your child is not the answer.”

  “You want me to forgive Ameana just like that?” Rage asks in utter disbelief.

  “I want you to trust that your love is bigger than one mistake. I want you to remember that you’re a father now. And this is your chance to do what’s right for your family; put them first by letting this go; Rage, let it go,” I urge him.

  “Is she in love with you?” he asks.

  “No. You’re the only one she wants.”

  “Maybe she wants you and just doesn’t know how to—”

  “—Rage, the six hours you guys just spent together, did it seem like she was thinking about me at all?”

  He looks up at the ceiling and reflects silently.

  “You and Aaden are everything to Ameana. Don’t throw it away because of this. She loves you and only you,” I push.

  “Untie me,” he demands once again.

  I’m not sure if I got through to him or not. For all I know as soon as I let him go, he’ll tackle me again. But the fact of the matter is, I don’t really have a choice. So, I head over and release him. He stands up and glares at me.

  “So…are you gonna try to kill me now?” I ask, genuinely curious.

  “You’re not worth it.”

  “Rage...you can’t let her know that you found out. It will be very bad for Aaden. Hate me all you want but keep Ameana out of this,” I plead.

  He doesn’t reply. He’s drowning in a mix of hatred and sadness. He looks off into space. I can only imagine what’s going through his head.

  “Rage, you can’t tell Ameana. Do you understand? She cannot know you found out.”

  He doesn’t reply. His face is dark and crest fallen. I don’t think he will give me what I want. I think this is all too much for him and he will confront Ameana.

  “Rage, do you hear me, you can’t say anything to Ameana,” I repeat.

  “You’re in my way,” he says. It’s then I realize I’m blocking the path to the bedrooms.

  “Rage, I am so sorry. I didn’t mean …it wasn’t something we planned… It just kind of happened…”

  “Get out of my way,” he warns.

  “I know what I did was—”

  Before I can finish, Rage summons up a fireball in each hand. His eyes become black pools of fury. He is in full demon mode. And I have no doubt he will attack if I don’t move out of his way.

  “What’s going?” Ameana asks.

  As soon as we hear the team enter, the fire in Rage’s hand disappears. The team looks at us with astonishment and confusion.

  “Marcus, your leg…” Emmy says as she approaches me.

  “It’s not as bad as it looks,” I lie.

  “Not as bad? Your eyes are swollen shut,” she says filled with concern.

  “Hello, what happened?” Ameana demands.

  I look at Rage as he studies Ameana.

  “We were attacked; demons,” he says softly.

  “Are you okay?” she asks.

  “Yeah, we’re fine,” Rage replies.

  “Yo, how many of them were there?” Jay asks.

  “A few,” I reply.

  “Should we go after them?” Jay asks.

  “No, it’s fine. We injured them pretty bad before they took off. They’re probably already dead,” I tell him.

  “Well, I guess we better start cleaning up,” Miku says.

  Ameana studies Rage and I closely. I can tell by her facial expression, she’s not so sure she believes us. Rage can sense her hesitation too. He addresses her with a calm and loving tone.

  “Okay, s
hopaholic, confess; how much damage did you and Miku do in Milan?” He asks.

  “The city will never be the same; Thomas, you have to see what Pretty and I got Aaden; a dozen Gucci onesies, a white ‘angel’ tee and a red ‘devil’ one,” she says beaming as she goes over to sort through her shopping bags.

  “Come take a look,” Ameana calls out to Rage, excited.

  “I’ll be right there,” he replies.

  The others are far enough away that Rage can talk to me without fear of being overheard. “You ever come near Ameana again, Guardian, and I swear on my son’s life, I will kill you,” he promises me.

  Just then Emmy comes up and looks me over.

  “I think you should see a healer; your wounds don’t look good at all,” she says, worried.

  “Yeah I will; in a minute,” I reply.

  She smiles sadly and heads over to help Jay clean up.

  “You will tell Emmy; today, ” Rage says leaving no room for argument.

  While the others are back at the house, I convince Emmy to take a walk with me to the park across the street. She thinks it’s crazy that I don’t go to a Healer right away. But the fact is, the pain in my leg is secondary to the one in my chest; it’s the pain that comes from knowing that you are about to deeply wound someone you love.

  “Marcus, this is insane. You’re hobbling,” she points out.

  “This won’t take long; I really need to talk to you.”

  She sighs hopelessly and gives in.

  “Fine, but only for a little while.”

  I signal for her to sit on the wooden bench not too far from us. We’re in a fairly secluded part of the park with a small pond and lots of trees. It’s a beautiful place: maybe too beautiful a place to tell her something so ugly. Nevertheless, it’s what has to be done. So, I sit behind her and hope it goes better than I thought.

  “I know what this is about,” she says.

  “You do?”

  “Yeah, and I get it.”

  “Emmy I don’t think--”

  “--Marcus, it’s natural for you to be curious about my date with Alex,” she says carefully.

  “Well, yeah but—”

  “—Okay. We talked, we laughed a little. He really…likes me. He must be sick in the head but there it is.”

  “And how was the date for you?”

  “I had fun but I don’t know. He really has a hard time with how close you and I are. In fact, he hates that I’m a part of the team. He thinks I should walk away,” she replies.

  “Oh. What do you think?”

  “You guys are my family. You know that,” she says reassuringly.

  “You’re family and much more…”

  “So…how are we doing at this ‘friend’ thing? Not too bad right?” she says hopefully.

  “Well…”

  “I know it’s super weird to talk about other guys with you but I think we can get past it,” she says.

  “Emmy, I didn’t bring you here to talk about Alex or your date.”

  “Oh, what did you want to talk about?”

  “I did something very stupid,” I reply.

  “Marcus if this is about CP--”

  “No, but I did something equally destructive.”

  “What did you do?”

  “The night I found out my mom was in hell, I got seriously drunk…I slept with Ameana.”

  As soon as the words leave my mouth, she bolts off the bench, covers her mouth and takes a few steps away from me. It’s like I walked up to her casually, dug right into her flesh, pulled out her heart; veins and all. She stands before me with a bloody cavity where there was once a heart.

  “I’m so sorry. We were both drunk. It was selfish and so wrong. It didn’t mean anything. She loves Rage and I love--it didn’t mean anything,” I assure her.

  She doesn’t answer. She just looks around the park as if she’s dying for an exit; a place to flee to. She looks so troubled and horrified; it’s hard to watch.

  “Em, please say something.”

  “It took so long for me to believe that you and her were finished,” she replies mostly to herself.

  “We are finished. It was just a moment of...seriously it didn’t mean anything.”

  “Are you kidding me? We are apart less than a month and the first girl you run to is your ex and it doesn’t mean anything? How could you do this to me? How could you do that to Rage?”

  “Look, I was wrong. I know that but just so we are clear, you went to Alex in a matter of hours!”

  “So this is my fault? You slept with Ameana to retaliate for Alex?”

  “What? No, it wasn’t about that,” I reply coming closer to her.

  “Do not come near me, Marcus Cane.”

  “I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

  “WHY NOT? ISN’T THAT WHAT MARCUS AND EMMY DO? WALK AROUND HURTING EACH OTHER AS MUCH AS WE CAN, AS OFTEN AS POSSIBLE? ISN’T THAT OUR THING?”

  “Hey, technically we aren’t dating,” I point out.

  “So that makes what you did right?”

  “No but that doesn’t—”

  “—STOP. JUST STOP TALKING.”

  We stare at each other, silently. When she finally speaks again, she’s calm; numb.

  “You’re right: We aren’t together. And you know what, for the first time since meeting you, I’m okay with losing you.”

  “Wow…good to know,” I reply bitterly.

  “What do you want from me?” she asks.

  “I want you to stop acting like I’m the only one who screwed up.”

  “You want me to admit I’m screwed up? Well here it is: Emerson Hope Baxter is a major head case. She is addicted to the exquisite pain that comes from being in love and she should have taken the damn Blank pills because she is just not strong enough to survive any of this.”

  “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. I really don’t.”

  “I’m done,” she says.

  “Yeah, I got it; you’re done with me.”

  “No Marcus, I’m done with all of it. It’s crazy to think either of us can get a new start when we are forever in each other’s space. I’m finished with us, the mission, and yes; I’m finished with this team.”

  She turns and starts to walk away. I would follow her but I don’t. There’s just nothing left to say.

  But as suddenly as she takes off, she stops. She signals for me to look towards the sky. I follow her gaze and find a stunning blue bird gracefully cutting through the air and heading straight for us.

  “The Indigo; she’s back,” Emmy announces.

  I brace myself for the fact that the bird could be blinded, which would mean Wolf is not ready to negotiate yet. It may be missing a wing, or a leg. The more damage to the bird, the less likely Wolf is to agree to let Ameana out of her contract. I hope to Omnis the bird lands in fairly good condition.

  “It looks fine from here,” Emmy says unable to take her eyes off the majestic bird.

  “I don’t think Indigoes show their wounds until they land. It could get on the ground and then lose its wings”

  “Oh.”

  We look at each other not really sure what to say. We were just in a heated argument and now…in a few moments a bird will tell us just how hard Wolf plans to make our lives.

  Although no Indigo has ever died on a first trip, I suspect Wolf will injure the bird badly, meaning he is very unwilling to change his stance on him and Ameana being together.

  Please let the damn bird at least have sight in one eye and a set of wings…

  The Indigo swoops down and comes in for an elegant landing right at my feet. We wait anxiously to see the condition the bird is in. As soon as it lands, sparks begin to shoot up from its body. Soon the bird is flapping its wings wildly and moving as if it’s possessed.

  Then moments later, it lies perfectly still.

  “How’s the Indigo?” Emmy asks as I go in closer to examine it.

  “It’s dead.”

  “Wait, so that means—” r />
  “—it means I’m going to kill Wolf.”

  BOOK II:

  EMERSON H. BAXTER

  “In each of us, two natures are at war – the good and the evil. All our lives the fight goes on between them, and one of them must conquer. But in our own hands lies the power to choose – what we want most to be we are.”

  —Robert Louis Stevenson

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN:

  ROKI

  It’s back; the searing migraine that has been slicing into my head off and on for days. It reaches deep into my skull and creeps in just behind my left eye. I bite my lower lip and force myself to focus. I also take deep breaths and tell myself lies.

  Everything is going to be alright. There is nothing to worry about. Marcus will make itthrough this just fine. There is no need to stress out.

  “Emmy, are you okay?” Marcus asks taking his eyes off the Indigo to study me.

  “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” I lie.

  The truth is I haven’t been fine since the night in Texas. That’s when I got the first migraine. I thought it was a one-time thing but I was wrong. I’ve been hiding my headaches from the group because the last thing they need is one more thing to worry about.

  The person it’s been the most difficult to keep this from is Rage. He’s protective of me like Marcus but he has no filter. I can hear him calling me an idiot for not getting checked out. He yells and insults me like…well, like an older brother.

  Keeping my headaches from Marcus has been difficult too. He knows me, all too well. And if it wasn’t for everything going on, he would have picked up on my issues a long time ago.

  I found the time to go to a human doctor and they said nothing was wrong with me.

  That’s when I went to Tony and he tried a few mixtures on me; nothing worked. That’s when he suggested that it was a mental thing.

  “What am I supposed to do?” I asked him.

  “Humans have a great way of handling this kind of thing,” he replied.

  “I don’t want alcohol.”

  “No, therapy.”

  “I don’t need therapy,” I reply, shaking my head.

  “I have a few clients who swear by it.”