The Marauder

by Sean M. Hogan

  She smacked it out of the way and sat up in bed. Too fast as a splitting migraine flooded her brain with pain. She cupped her left eye. “Ouch.” With her right eye, she scanned her surroundings. The room and the dividing plastic drapes were white. Her bed was uncomfortably hard and there were freshly cut flowers in a vase on a nightstand nearby. From the looks of it, I’m in a hospital. Her right arm tugged at an IV taped on the back of her hand. She found herself stripped of her cloak and in nothing but a blue hospital gown. She instinctively reached for Maiden’s Soul and came up short. “Winston, where’s my sword?”

  Winston, her personal Orb-o-tron 1000, floated over to her. “I’m sorry, Miss Lionmane, but weapons are not permitted within hospital grounds. You should find all your personal items accounted for at the storage locker by the front desk.” He barked and flashed her a digital smile and wink.

  Brain fog gripped her mind as she fought back a rush nausea and lightheadedness. She peered at the cast over her left wrist. “Lefty?” A wave of relief washed over her as she felt him stir. That alleviation passed quickly when she heard him biting at the cast. “Stop chewing your cast. Or you’ll get the cone of shame again.” That stopped him and he let loose one final whimper of protest.

  Then it hit her all at once. “Winston.”

  “Yes?”

  Her heart dropped into her stomach and she forgot to breathe. “What time is it?”

  “Morning.”

  She lunged for the curtains over her window and ripped them aside. A bright sun over a green sky greeted her.

  “Nine on the dot to be exact.”

  “No.” Her room was spinning and she nearly fell out of her bed. Arthur… I’m too late. He left without me.

  “Easy now.” Winston came hovering over to her aid. “You should still be experiencing some grogginess.” He ushered her to lay back down with his two retractable pincher arms. “Perfectly normal.” He tucked her in, dragging her blanket past her chest. “We had to sedate you—despite your many objections—in order to treat your wounds properly. Standard procedure. How do you feel?”

  Her skin felt flush and clammy. “Like hell.”

  “I will notify the pain management nurse and see if we can add more medication to your current regiment.” He parted the dividing curtain and floated off down the hospital hallway.

  She clenched her eyes shut. Any second now and it’ll all be over. Everything gone in a flash. “I’m too late.” All because I was too damn pigheaded to listen to reason.

  “Too late for what, kiddo?”

  She shot up in bed when she heard his voice.

  A teenaged boy with a deep blue mohawk, a sleeveless leather jacket, and shaded circular glasses brushed aside the curtains and stepped in with a smile.

  She blinked at him. “Arthur?”

  Arthur took a swig from his beer bottle and tapped his glasses. “Mr. Glasses, you mean, Marauder. It’s too dangerous to use our real names. Who knows where spies might be lurking about.”

  His get-up was different but there was no mistaking the scrawny kid from her youth. “Arthur…” Her eyes watered. It had been almost two years since she last saw him.

  “Mr. Glasses,” he repeated before taking another swig.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “I’m not calling you that. It’s lame.”

  He nearly coughed up his beer. “Michelle, we talked about this—”

  She hugged him, squeezing him so tight he lost his air. “You waited. For me.”

  It took him a moment to catch his breath. “Of course. You didn’t think I’d time-skip out on my best girl, did you?”

  She wiped the tears from her cheeks. “But what about Atlas’ rule? You should have assumed I was dead and left for good.”

  “For being a little tardy? Atlas isn’t running the show anymore. I’ll decide…” Arthur grabbed hold of her shoulders, gently pushed her back, and gazed into her eyes. “We’ll decide. Together. Make our own rules and follow them if we like. Or not.” He shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a rebel.” He took another sip of his beer.

  “Ummm, Arthur?” She inched up an eyebrow. “What happened to your hair?” She ran her finger over it. “It’s very blue.”

  He seemed to take offense. “It’s called a mohawk.” He slid out a pocket comb and straightened his mohawk in the oval mirror above the nightstand. “Badass, huh?”

  Michelle couldn’t hide her cringe.

  “Oh, come on. I did this for you.”

  “Me? Don’t put that on me.”

  “You’re the one who said my last haircut made me look like a little girl.”

  “I did. Overcompensate much?”

  “Whatever,” he said, taking another sip from his bottle. “Haters gonna hate.”

  She frowned. “You’re drinking?”

  “So? I’m seventeen now. The legal age in New Republica.”

  “It’s morning.”

  “So, it is,” he said, inching the bottle to his lips.

  “Hand it over.” She stuck out her hand.

  He scoffed. “What are you, my mom now?”

  Her intense scowl won him over and he tossed her the bottle. She emptied it out in the houseplant.

  “You’re no fun. I liked it better when you were younger than me. Little brother is gonna take some time getting used to. Though I gotta say.” Arthur stalked over to her. “It isn’t all bad.” He fished his fingers under Michelle’s chin and lifted her face up to meet his gaze. “You have grown up into quite the lovely woman.”

  “You’re drunk.” Were you just as worried as I was?

  “Then I guess I can’t be held responsible for my actions.” He leaned in to kiss her.

  She pinched his earlobe and twisted it for good measure. “Neither can I.”

  “Ow, ow, ow…” He wormed himself free and retreated, nursing his bright red ear on the foot of her bed. “Friendzoned. Is there any crueler fate?”

  “Brotherzoned. It’s not as bad. Trust me.” She crossed her arms and looked away. “And not as creepy.”

  That’s when she spotted him. “Jon?” He was in the hallway, in nothing but a hospital gown (his bare ass exposed) fighting off a few robotic Orb-o-trons with a bedpan as they buzzed around him like angry bees.

  “Sir, please return to your room, you’re not well,” urged one of the red, cat-faced orbs.

  “Back off, ya little devils,” holler Jon. “You’re thicker than a fiddler in hell if ya think I’m gonna lie down and let ya stick that needle where the sun don’t shine.”

  “Looks like you brought a stowaway with you this time,” said Arthur. “Gonna be a pain to forge a visa for him. But me and Winston should be able to manage.”

  “Thank you,” said Michelle. “He’s a nice guy.”

  Jon smacked one of the orbs and sent it spinning.

  “I can see,” observed Arthur.

  Jon was darted with a tranquilizer and, after he wobbled around like a blind mule in a pumpkin patch, he hit the floor. “Have I died and gone to robot heaven?” His last delirious question before he was dragged off.

  Michelle cringe-smiled. “Once you get to know him.”

  As Arthur closed the divider curtain his demeanor suddenly soured.

  “What’s with that face, Arthur?”

  “You know what.” He leaned his back against the wall opposite of her—taking out a deck of cards—half his face cast in shadow. “Have you decided yet?”

  She hugged herself. “We’re doing this now?”

  “Yes.” He shuffled his cards, as he always did when he was nervous. “You almost died out there. I can’t lose another Marauder. I can’t lose you.”

  “You didn’t. I’m here. Alive and—”

  “—Well? Hardly. How much longer?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  “Do you have to lose an arm or a leg before it sinks in?” He flashed a card. On the face, seven planets of various sizes and colors spun around an illustrated sun. “Nirva, Tuat, Elysium, and Ea
rth have all fallen.” Four planets burned away leaving cigar tip sized holes in their wake. “Only Svar, Nifihel, and Hamistagan remain.” He slid the card back into his magical deck. “But for how long? We’ve lost the war, Michelle. I know it’s hard to accept. I thought I ended it with Able.” He drew another card, on the face was a huge female devil silhouetted by a black sun. A demonic Satyr with bat wings, ram horns, and bare exposed breasts—its stare hypnotic and enticing. Below the devil, chains slithered around two naked humans, a woman with blonde hair and a thin man with glasses, constricting and binding them. “I cut out his heart and left him for dead. But he—she—simply chose another. History has repeated itself. Despite our best efforts.” He put the card back in the deck and tossed her a golden pocket watch—her watch. “It’s time to travel back in time.”

  Michelle’s hands trembled as she clutched the watch. One of a pair and the third blessing of the Maidens along with Maiden’s Soul and her enchanted cloak. “If we do that we’ll reset the timeline and everyone will be—”

  “—erased?” Arthur pulled out his golden pocket watch and set it down on the bed next to hers. “Let’s not beat around the bush here, Michelle. Murdered. Going back will kill every last man, woman, and child alive right now.”

  The harsh truths of time travel, there can only be one timeline, one reality. Meaning you can only go forward in time. Going back replaces the old timeline with the new one you’ve just created.

  “I did it once before,” said Arthur with a numb expression. “Snuffed out millions of lives in an instant. Not even Able or his replacement with the skull mask could ever hope to top that.”

  “You didn’t have a choice.” She reached out to him but came up short as he turned from her.

  “I did.” He laughed through a dark smile. “And I made it. Sacrifice millions of lives to save billions. The math was simple. The aftermath has been anything but.”

  She averted her gaze. “I wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t…”

  “I’m not looking for justification. I know what I am.” He peered down at his own shaking hands. “A killer. So was Atlas. And so are you. We’re all killers, Michelle. That’s what we are. No use pretending otherwise.”

  “I’ve only killed those who’ve had it coming.” She shot him a glare. “This is different.”

  “Is it?”

  “It is. And what if going back doesn’t solve anything? Like before.”

  “Then we go back again.” He could barely contain his cynical laughter at the horrifying absurdity of it all. “And again. And again. We keep trying. We keep struggling. Until our great adversary is defeated or until our last breath. Whichever comes first.”

  “Now you’re sounding like Atlas,” she said, with more spite than she intended.

  His expression grew cold as he reached for his watch. “Look, I know it’s hard. It’s hard for me too. But sometimes you just gotta know when to fold.”

  Michelle grabbed hold of his wrist before he could retrieve his watch. “There are good people out there, Arthur. People worth fighting for.” Her thoughts drifted to Jon. “I’m not giving up on them—not them or my little brother.”

  He struggled to break free from her grip but she refused to let go. “You don’t even know if he’s still alive.”

  She placed her left hand against her chest. “In my heart, I know he is.” She locked eyes with him. “I will find Matthew. And when I find the bastard who took him—who murdered Atlas—maybe I’ll cut out his heart, too. This war is far from over. Not while I still draw breath.” She took his hand and rested it against her heart. “Please, Arthur. All I need is time. Just a little more time. And I’ll prove it too you. There’s still hope.”

  Arthur sighed as he leaned back against the wall. “Alright, I can’t say no to you.” He adjusted his glasses and smirked. “Just remember, you aren’t invincible.”

  She ruffled up his mohawk. “Speak for yourself.”

  The nurse stepped in, a busty redhead with an hourglass figure. “How are we feeling this morning?” The nurse injected a syringe full of painkillers in Michelle’s IV bag. “This should help with the pain. If you need anything else, just press the button by the side of your bed,” she said with a wink.

  “Hello, nurse,” whispered both Michelle and Arthur as they watched the nurse head off down the hall with wide swaying hips.

  “Was that wink for me or you?” asked Arthur.

  “Me,” replied Michelle with a smirk. “Definitely me.”

  Arthur sighed. “Some girls have all the luck.”

  THE END

  To be continued in Episode Two of The Marauder

  (coming soon…)

  Thank you so much for reading! And thank you in advance for your review! You are awesome!!!

  The Crow Behind the Mirror

  In the meantime, why not check out the first book in The Mirror Wars novel series set in the same universe as The Marauder.

  The crow behind the mirror

  Behind the mirror lies a world most people could never dream of. A land populated by tree-sprites and pig-runs, knights and pharaohs, dragons and unicorns, fairies and gods. But now their numbers dwindle.

  In a dark temple, the Undead Bride weeps. Spring never comes. An endless winter sets in. A father's sin continues to fester and grow.

  Trapped on a dying world, a young high school student finds herself a pawn in an otherworldly feud between three kingdoms, three races, and three gods.

  Meet Sharon. After her father abandoned her at the ripe old age of five he left her to deal with more than a few issues. Social anxiety, depression, explosive anger, and a bitter, broken heart for starters. Despite her mother’s best intentions of starting over in a new city and enrolling her in a new high school, she finds it impossible to fit in. Too bad punching out the most popular girl in school hasn’t made her any friends—only distant ostracizing glares and a trip to the principal’s office.

  But the cherry on top of the misery called her life? There's this ghost that stalks her where ever she goes. A crow to be exact. One that won't stay out of her dreams.

  This mysterious phantom from the past comes for Sharon, stirring up dark secrets and forbidden sins of the father she hardly knew. Now, haunted by a crow that glides on the currents of daydreams and nightmares, she is drawn to the magic mirror. One careless touch will change everything…

  Sharon is about to learn that sometimes it takes a broken girl to fix a broken world.

  (Click here to buy it on Amazon)

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  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Hello beautiful reader, my name is Sean M. Hogan, author of The Crow Behind the Mirror, A Halloween Carol, a collection of short stories The Devil, the Grim Reaper, and a Ghost, and a Short Reads series called The Marauder.

  I was born, raised, and currently reside in Southern California and a proud graduate from San Jose State University. While primarily a dark fantasy writer, my fiction tends to range from Young Adult to Adult. But whatever your age, if you're a fantasy lover, I'm sure you'll find something to whet your appetite.

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  Mr. Sean

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