Aspirant: A Sci-Fi Harem Adventure

by Whittaker, Maxx

  The laughter gets higher until it’s almost a shriek, a high pitched ringing that pierces our ears. Something black like smoke boils from the doorway and up into the darkness. It’s formless yet somehow unmistakably Annabelle. Her laughter chases her into the night as her spirit flees over the rooftops of the city.

  “Fuck,” I decide.

  Mika stands, brushing off her knees from where she’s stumbled. “Yeah, that can’t be good.”

  “If they can do that… If Syl didn’t kill her, just now, how do we–”

  “Hey,” Mika interrupts. “We’ll figure it out. And if we don’t, we’ve got an advantage, now.”

  Syl’s eyebrow raises. “Oh?”

  “Yeah. We know their little errand was bullshit. A trap. What does that tell you?”

  The door. “Split us up? Eat my soul?” I’m surprised I didn’t think of this before. But Mika did. Of course she did. I smile at her. “The door’s fine. Just more of their lies.”

  “Yeah,” she says, smiling back. “Whatever happens, whatever they do, just remember… We don’t have to beat them. We just have to get to the door.”

  “But if it works, and they want to leave…” I shrug. “Why don’t they?”

  Syl holds up her hand. “Our prints. We are the key to leaving. They can’t do it without us.”

  “But Aspirants before us… If the Sisters just want to leave, why not let them through? And why did Annabelle try to vampire me, back there?”

  “Because they don’t want to leave,” Mika says, realization dawning in her eyes. “Annabelle tried to consume you. It explains why they didn’t kill us before we found them. And why an army of crazies isn’t hacking us apart right now.”

  I shudder. “She wanted my soul. She wanted me unspoiled.”

  “Their motivations do not matter, now,” Syl says. “We know our course. It is time for a scrap .”

  “Yeah. C’mon.” I look toward the park, and the witch’s cottage. The same direction demon Annabelle fled. “Pitter patter.”

  Mika tips her head. “Let’s get at ‘er.”

  “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

  Syl frowns, but I think she’s getting used to our slang because she doesn’t question it. “Not much time left.”

  00:16:13

  Shit. She’s right. “How did twenty minute pass in there? It felt like five.”

  Mika smirks. “Time flies when you’re having fun.”

  We move off, running and not caring who hears us. “I’m not gonna live this one down, am I?”

  “Not a chance.”

  Great.

  21

  Somewhere Between

  Room Timer: 00:13:07

  Astra sits, and like she almost always does when she’s nervous, she chews on the end of a pen.

  It’s a strange tic, pointless. Another that confounds her, makes Astra wonder where Elise ends, and she begins. The doctor’s brilliant coding and her endless nights gave Astra emotion. The ability to change, to become her own person. But why had the doctor stuffed Astra’s head with her own memories at the last moment? Why burden her with the remembrances of someone else’s life?

  That’s that the memories were. A burden. How was it fair that Astra missed a mother’s lullaby, one she’d never heard with her own ears? That she craved the touch of a father, his strong fingers idly twirling her hair when he’d pass by the dinner table? How was it fucking fair that Astra was distracted by the memories of a lover’s touch, so much so that at times she got so worked up that she was unable to shut down during idle periods?

  Like now. Well, now she wasn’t idle by any means. But some part of her would really prefer to go into standby and turn off her nervousness, fear, and memory.

  But she can’t. So instead she sits, chewing her pen. A habit not her own.

  And she watches.

  Sam. She’d almost lost him, there. Had been so close to intervening, so close to doing something. Even with Mika and Syl breaking from the norm, going after him, it had almost been too late.

  Too late for everyone.

  And how she’d cheered as Syl’d speared that hateful bitch to the mattress!

  Ah, Syl. There was a gamble that had already paid off tenfold.

  Astra slumps, sets the pen down.

  It won’t be enough. Not with what’s waiting for them.

  She knows it now. Knows what she’d suspected is true.

  The Citadel was never meant to be finished.

  Now, the only question… What does Astra do about it?

  Twelve minutes left.

  22

  Chamber 5

  Aspirant #2239

  Room Timer: 00:08:04

  When we return, the Sisters are waiting.

  They stand shoulder to shoulder in front of their cottage, watching with glacial stares and patience. All hints of playfulness and sexuality are gone. Their wispy, transparent dresses have been replaced with dark robes that fall from their shoulders to the ground, hiding any hint of their bodies. Their faces are cruel, twisted lips drawn and pale. They radiate anger and something else.

  Disappointment?

  Annabelle sees me studying her, sneers. The red left by my mental slap is gone, and I’m willing to bet the eight holes Syl punched through her are, too. That doesn’t bode well, but something Mika said on our way back here resonates in our minds.

  We don’t have to beat them. We just have to get to the door.

  Everything about their clothes, their bearing tells me one thing.

  You missed your chance with us.

  Somehow, I think I’m okay with that.

  We stop about twenty feet from them, mirroring their positions. For a long, frosted moment no one speaks. The air is utterly still. I half expect a tumbleweed to roll by.

  The Sisters seem content to stare us to death, a real possibility, considering the fact that we only less than ten minutes left.

  Someone has to do something to break the silence, and I’m getting kind of used to being the one who takes charge. So, I do.

  “Let us pass,” I bark, trying to channel every drill sergeant I’ve ever heard in movies or TV. “We know the door isn’t broken. And we know only we can open it. Let us through and let us leave. If you want to follow, we won’t stop you.”

  Astrid’s laugh is amused, derisive. “Oh, Aspirant. Why would we want to leave all this?” she asks, arms wide as she struts toward us. She’s utterly unafraid of the weapons we have trained on her, a master of her domain. “This city is a river, a channel that feeds us, sustains us with souls. We command an army of worshippers with no one worthy of challenging our reign.” She stops before me, eyeing me like an insect. “No, Aspirant. I think we’re quite happy here.”

  I raise my rifle to her chest, flicking it to shotgun mode. “Well, we’re not. Let us pass. ”

  Astrid doesn’t answer, just eyes my weapon disdainfully. “We are older than the sun that burns in the sky, mortal. You are nothing, and we are eternal. Do you really think your little toy poses any threat to me?”

  “Let’s find out.”

  I fire.

  Astrid explodes.

  For the briefest moment, I dare celebrate. Maybe the surprise was enough. Maybe it’s as easy as…

  But no. When the fury and smoke clear, there’s no flesh littering the ground. No welter of blood showering her sisters. No. There’s just boiling darkness, black mist, like when Annabelle fled into the sky. It writhes in the air before snapping back on itself with a clap of thunder that sends us stumbling.

  Astrid stands, untouched and unharmed. She sighs. “So tiresome.”

  I lower my rifle, back away another step. The women ready, Syl crouched low, Mika holding Inferno high. Here we go…

  But Astrid doesn’t attack. She stands, imperious, mouth curled.

  Wasting time.

  00:05:58

  We realize it at the same time. Tense, to rush them, push past.

  Syl moves first. She darts forward, claws upr
aised at Astrid’s face.

  I don’t see what the witch does. Her hand moves, a blur, and Syl’s hurled backward through the air. She smashes into Mika who barely has time to lower her flaming staff, and the two of them tumble away.

  Astrid brushes some invisible dirt off her robe. “As I said, tiresome.” She eyes Syl, who’s already extracting herself and helping Mika up. I don’t dare help them, turn my back on the witches.

  “I will taste your flesh,” Syl hisses, scales flushing scarlet.

  Astrid paces away from me. “Ah, yes. The aberration. The interloper.”

  Annabelle growls. “You don’t know the bliss she’s cost you, Sam.”

  “Yes. Quite a gamble.” Agnes is rolling her metal ball again, tossing it from hand to hand without looking, letting it dance across her knuckles. “The silver one must be desperate to cheat the system so.”

  Annabelle laughs. “I wonder what he thinks about that.”

  “Or if he knows.” Astrid’s eyes gleam.

  I don’t know what they mean by that, don’t care at the moment. “None of this matters. You won’t take our souls. Won’t catch us alone again,” I say, glaring at Annabelle. “Just let us pass. Try your luck with the next Aspirants.”

  “Your souls ,” Astrid says. She almost moans the word. “Oh, Syl. I’m so disappointed you missed our date. To taste an essence like yours… It would have been a delicacy.”

  “I am afraid that I do not wish to part with it,” Syl says.

  “Yes, yes, and I’m afraid we’re well past that.” Astrid’s eyes change. Something black like ink swirls across them until they’re as dark as an abyss. “No, I’m afraid there’s just one thing to do, now, if we want to feed again.” She grins, and her teeth are fangs.

  Annabelle and Agnes join her. Their eyes are black.

  00:04:09

  I raise my rifle and fire, know it’s pointless. But I have to try something.

  Before my explosive blast hits them, the witches dissolve. Their dark mist writhes, expands, explodes outward until it’s shaped like…

  Aw, shit.

  The Jötunn materializes, crouched but still towering over us, almost as tall as the trees.

  This close, it’s a nightmare of bone and claws. Its antlers are a thicket of a hundred blades, curved around eyes as black as a tomb and fangs the length of my forearm. It’s whole body shudders as it unfolds, as it stands, and a thousand joints crack like wood shattering, echoing through the forest.

  “Maybe Syl cracked me in the head, but is it… bigger?” Mika asks, stumbling up.

  “No, it’s definitely bigger.” I push her behind me, wonder what the hell we do now.

  Its head lowers, staring down at us. The air smells like earth and trees. And it smells like death. We stand, frozen in fear, as the Jötunn’s mouth opens wide.

  When it shrieks, a banshee wail that almost pushes me to my knees, its skull explodes into flames so hot that nearby trees ignite with it.

  Right. Forgot about that part.

  “Run!” I yell, already moving, tugging Mika with me. Syl lopes behind us, somehow as fast as we are running backward.

  The ground shakes as the Jötunn gives chase.

  “Where are you going, little Aspirants?” Its voice is a singsong version of all three Sisters, magnified a thousand times. Trees vibrate at its fury, and leaves spiral down around us like black rain. “There’s nowhere to run!”

  They’re right. We clear the forest, skidding to a halt in the tiny clearing between the trees and the city.

  The people are waiting for us.

  Millions of them, surrounding the park, shrieking and spitting their fury. We didn’t hear them before, not over the roar of the Jötunn, but we hear them now.

  “Cursed beast!”

  “Away! Away!”

  “It’s all your fault!”

  We shy away from their fury. “Back!” I yell.

  “Wait!” Syl shouts over the cacophony. “They are not advancing!”

  She’s right. The crowd surrounds the park in every direction, their ranks so deep I can’t see where they end. But they’re not moving forward, not charging in a tidal wave of hate. None of them step onto the soil of the park.

  “They’re keeping us here,” Mika says. “Like before.”

  “Very astute!” The voice hammers us from behind, and we turn to meet it. “What clever Aspirants!” The Jötunn stands at the tree line, impossibly tall, it’s burning teeth a rictus grin.

  I raise my rifle and fire. The barrel bucks, spitting a cone of death. This close, almost point blank range, it hits the Jötunn in the leg. Trees splinter, their trunks shattering into a thousand flaming splinters. For a moment the air is nothing but smoke and wood and fire.

  When it clears, the Jötunn’s shin is blackened. Chips have been blasted away, but it’s unbroken. The beast still stands.

  The witches laugh, a piercing howl. One enormous, claw tipped hand darts downward and reaches for me.

  Mika bellows, thrusting Inferno forward. A gout of flame like detonates before her, swallowing the Jötunn’s reaching fingers. My arm goes up to shield my eyes instinctively, and the three of us scramble back.

  When the blast clears, I have another moment of hope. Pieces of bone rain down around us, bits of finger and claw. Syl barely dodges a starched length the size of a barrel that thuds into the dirt, rolling away.

  The Jötunn reels, grasping the wreckage of its hand. “Mika, can you do that again?”

  She nods, face grim.

  But the Jötunn is still laughing.

  Bits of bone, the wreckage around us, blacken and dissolve into mist. Mist that flows upward to drifts into the shape of a hand and claws.

  “No…” Mika whispers.

  The Jötunn stands, undamaged.

  How? How are we supposed to win this?

  “You see,” the witches shriek. “This is pointless. Let us take you. Come back with us.”

  Annabelle’s voice raises above the others. “It’s not too late, love,” she croons. “This can still be pleasurable. You see that you cannot win. Give up.”

  Instead, we run. Parallel to the edge of the park, we bolt. “Hurry,” I gasp. “Get around her. To the door!”

  “Such a waste!” Agnes wails. “Such delicious flesh, wasted!” Her cries follow us as the Jötunn gives chase, its strides eating the distance we’ve created with impossible speed.

  Syl stops, turns. “Pointless,” she hisses.

  I flank her. “You have an idea?”

  “I charge. Create a distraction. Mika, when its claws are clear, close the distance and blast them in their center with your flame. Tear them in half.”

  “Won’t last,” I heave.”

  “While they repair themselves, we run for the cottage.”

  The Jötunn catches us, arms upraised. About to come down and smash us to a pulp.

  No time to worry or come up with something else. “Do it!”

  I raise my rifle and fire directly upward into the Jötunn’s face. The blast doesn’t cover the distance, but the explosion of flame is the cover Syl needs. She flows forward, lightning quick, leaping. Her tongue flashes out, hooking around a huge rib like a grappling hook that yanks her upward. She somehow clears slicing claws as long as her body, arcing in the air like a pole vaulter.

  She attaches to the Jötunn, still blinded by my blast, which doesn’t seem to notice her scrambling up its body.

  Toward its burning head. “Syl, no!” Is her ‘distraction’ burning herself to death? But no, her claws flash in the night, onyx razors brilliant in the light of the Jötunn’s flame.

  She’s going to try to cut its head off.

  I raise a hand, desperation lending me strength and speed. In my mind I can feel the Jötunn’s flame, it’s insane ferocity, like a wall.

  A wall I push at.

  It batters back at me, the Jötunn’s magic so powerful I almost release contact, afraid it’ll burn me from the inside out. But Syl ch
arges into it, unafraid and unprotected. I have to help her, save her.

  I push harder.

  The flame recedes, flows up the Jötunn’s skull like the tide. I moan in agony, at the strain tearing at my mind and the fire searing me from the inside out.

  But it works. Syl reaches the neck, slices deep.

  The Jötunn bellows. Its claws reach up, grasping for Syl as she cuts deeper and deeper.

  Mika hurtles forward, Inferno raised.

  Please, please…

  At the last moment, just as Mika opens her mouth to bellow her battle cry, the Jötunn’s hand swings back downward, a long arc that she has no hope of avoiding.

  “No!” I reach for her with my mind, holding the flame and tugging Mika at the same time. I only have a split second and it’s not enough to pull her free.

  But it’s enough to save her life. The Jötunn’s fist clips her, sends her flying backward, toward the crowd.

  I reach for her again, straining, manage to slow her flight and she thuds into the dirt.

  Blood explodes from my nose, coating my chest. The power comes so much easier now, but I’ve used so much… it’s flaying me from the inside out. I can’t hold any longer. With a gasp, my power falls away.

  Syl screams and falls and the flaming skull explodes back to life.

  Mika rolls head over feet, too fast to stop herself. I don’t know if she can. If she rolls into the crowd…

  They wait, screaming, weapons high.

  I dive into Mika’s path. She hits me like a boulder, taking me with her. I wrap her in my arms as we slide to an agonizing halt and wait for the crowd to rip us to pieces.

  But they don’t. I open my eyes.

  We’re less than a foot away. But still in the park. None of them touch us.

  Jesus Christ.

  “Syl,” I croak, standing. Mika groans, eyes fluttering.

  Shit shit shit.

  Behind the Jötunn, Syl staggers up. Her scales hiss with steam and her face is pinched in agony, but she still slides between the beast’s legs and shambles back to us.

  She looks bad. Cooked. Her face is undamaged, somehow, but her body is blackened, and her scales are so blasted that they’re sloughing from her body. “Sam, I am… I am sorry.”

  “No,” I say, pulling Mika to her feet. She wobbles, and by the way she’s standing, I’m sure her ribs are broken, but she grips her staff and twines her fingers in mine. “Not your fault. Nothing else we could do.”