by SF Mazhar
Hadrian paused and turned to look at him.
Kyran sat at the edge of the bed, leaning back to stretch out his legs. “Your powers are back,” he said in explanation. “The war is as good as over.” At his father’s raised eyebrow, Kyran shook his head. “It’s not what I think. It’s what the mages believe. They’re convinced that once you unlock your powers, you’ll win the war in a heartbeat and they’ll all end up dead.”
Light sparkled in Hadrian’s eyes and his lips lifted in an amused smile. “They’ve got the right idea.”
Kyran snorted. “You wouldn’t believe the crap I had to hear this past year.” The smile slipped from his face and his eyes darkened a shade. He looked over at his father. “Did you find out who made those kills?”
“Raoul and his Lycans,” Hadrian replied.
“Figures.” Kyran glowered with fury. “It looked like Raoul’s work but the mages couldn’t be bothered to figure that out. They were more than happy to blame me. The Scorcher burns everything he touches, so it must have been him!”
Hadrian chuckled. “I never knew your reputation meant so much to you.”
Kyran snapped his head up, intense green eyes narrowed. “It’s not like that,” he argued.
“What is it like, then?”
Kyran paused for a moment. “They should find the real culprit,” he said at last. “Blame me when it’s actually me. I don’t have a problem with that. I’m proud of what I’ve done.”
Hadrian watched him carefully. “Of course you are.”
Kyran shifted in his seat. His right hand, with four silver lines across the back of it, curled into a fist.
“I’m surprised you didn’t see that coming,” Hadrian said. “They’ve been doing that with me for years.”
Kyran nodded slowly, eyes unfocused, mind going over all he had heard in his Hunter meetings at the Hub. Every time they talked about the Scorcher, pinned another crime on him – one that he hadn’t committed – it had made his blood boil. Kyran was surprised he’d managed to keep himself from burning the city to the ground. Well, almost, anyway. His escape wouldn’t have been possible if he hadn’t distracted them with that fire. He knew it wouldn’t do any lasting damage, though – he hadn’t put much force into it.
“Don’t worry, Kyran,” Hadrian said, pulling him out of his thoughts. “We’ll make them pay for tarnishing our good name.”
Kyran could sense the mocking tone. “Not if you stand around talking all day.”
Hadrian crossed his arms over his chest, looking down at Kyran with a smirk. “You planning on being cheeky all day?”
“I have a year to make up for.”
Hadrian’s smile slipped from his face. “I never anticipated it would take that long,” he admitted.
“It was okay,” Kyran pacified. “It was mostly tolerable. When they weren’t spreading lies about you and blaming me for everything under the sun, it wasn’t...too bad.”
Her image flashed in Kyran’s head – dark hair, big brown eyes and that smile that made him stop and stare every damn time.
“You sound almost nostalgic,” Hadrian said.
Kyran looked up at his father to see that teasing smile again. Kyran rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I miss Salvador,” he said. “I especially miss the bullets they buried in me.”
The humour left Hadrian quickly. Something flickered in his eyes, his body tightened, even his jaw clenched. Kyran saw it and at once shifted, sitting upright.
“Don’t start again,” he said.
“Then don’t bring it up again.”
There was an edge to his voice, one that Kyran knew meant Hadrian was struggling to hold back his anger. If there was one thing Hadrian couldn’t stand, it was Kyran getting hurt, and last night Kyran had come home with bullets in his chest and back.
A thought crawled into Kyran’s mind and he relaxed, smirking a little. He kept his eyes on his father and shrugged. “All things considered, I got away pretty easily.”
He was right. It was the wrong thing to say.
Hadrian’s body tightened further but he uncurled his arms, clenched his fists and took a step closer to Kyran. “Easily?” he snarled. “They shot you three times!”
“I know, I counted them,” Kyran replied dryly.
Hadrian’s eyes darkened. “Did you count them last night too, when I had to dig the bullets out of you?” he asked, his words underlined with a growl. “Their shots may not have killed you, but they still pierced holes in your flesh. You came to me bleeding and injured.”
Kyran kept his eyes on him. “What does it matter?” he said carefully. “As long as you got what you wanted.”
That did it. Hadrian’s face twisted with rage, the gold specks in his eyes brightened, coming alive until his eyes glowed amber. “Kyran!” he yelled.
Behind him, the entire wall lit up in flames. The roar of the fire filled the room, a manifestation of Hadrian’s anger. Then just as suddenly as it had come, the fire died, leaving the wall black and charred. Hadrian turned to glance at the damage before looking back at Kyran, only to see him smirking, looking very proud of himself.
“You did that on purpose,” Hadrian said in realisation.
“I got impatient,” Kyran said. “I’ve waited my whole life to see you use what’s yours.”
Hadrian started to smile, but his expression changed, a flash of pain crossed his face. He stumbled, about to fall, but his son was by his side in a heartbeat, holding him steady.
“Father?” Worry laced Kyran’s voice.
Hadrian took in a breath and shook his head, as if trying to clear it. “Look what you’ve done, you brat,” he said in a strained voice. “You tired me out with your little trick.”
“Admit it, it was worth it,” Kyran replied with a grin.
Hadrian let go of Kyran and straightened up. He narrowed his eyes at his son. “No more of your antics,” he warned. “I have to wait for my core to fully restore before I start using my powers.”
“Fine,” Kyran replied. He stepped back. “And for the record, Neriah and his Hunters could’ve buried every last bullet into me, and I still would’ve returned to you with the key. I have yet to fail to do as you ask.”
“I asked you to get out and leave me alone,” Hadrian reminded playfully.
“And when I go to have breakfast, you’ll have your wish.”
Hadrian shook his head. He held Kyran’s easy gaze but his own was changing, darkening once again. He stood tall. “So,” he paused. “Are we going to talk about it?”
Kyran frowned, looking lost. But something in his father’s expression told him what he was referring to, and Kyran felt his blood run cold. His expression lost all his previous amusement.
“No,” he replied.
“Kyran–”
“There’s nothing to talk about,” Kyran said quickly. He ignored the frantic beating of his heart, but knew his father’s vamage abilities would pick up on it. And then he would make Kyran talk.
Hadrian took a step towards him, his eyes softer.
“Kyran–”
“Do you know what I was wondering?” Kyran asked quickly. “How are we going to let the world know Hadrian Aedus is back?”
Hadrian let the topic go, for now. He smiled.
“Don’t worry,” he said. “I’ve been planning this for sixteen years.” His eyes gleamed in vicious glee. “They won’t know what hit them.”
***
The sound of gunshots was deafening. Grunts and growls of beasts with sharp claws and bloody jowls surrounded him. Aaron watched in mounting horror as he stood in the middle of the chaos. Hunters were everywhere, fighting to the death with hell hounds. The gruesome, ugly dogs, with matted fur and red eyes pounced at the Hunters.
Aaron tried to focus, to recognise the faces of the mages but none of them seemed familiar. He ducked out of the way of a hell hound’s vicious swipe, meant for the Hunter behind him. After a minute or two, Aaron began to realise that no one was coming at him
. No hell hound and no Hunter. It was like he was invisible, like he wasn’t even there.
The ground under his feet rumbled before cracking. Aaron watched it with fascination as he stood perfectly stable. That’s when he looked past the growling beasts gnashing their teeth together, past the Hunters shooting and fighting with great flair, to the glittery white walls. Three walls were locked by grey criss-crossing bars. That’s when Aaron knew where he was. It was a Q-Zone – a trap devised by the mages to kill demons – only he wasn’t really here because he didn’t remember coming on a hunt. Which meant he must be dreaming.
“Didn’t you hear him?” someone yelled over the noise of the hunt. Aaron looked for the familiar voice, only to gape in surprise. It was his dad, a young Christopher Adams, fighting a hell hound. He kicked the grisly dog back before his power turned it to stone. He looked right at Aaron. “Get out of here!”
Aaron stared back at him. He opened his mouth to speak, to ask what was going on, how his dad could see him, when someone replied from behind.
“No way! I’m not leaving without you.”
Aaron turned in the direction of the voice, but he couldn’t tell who had spoken from the crowd of fighting mages.
“Go!” Chris called, drawing Aaron’s attention again. He watched as his dad fired three bullets into one hell hound, dodging the rabid fangs of another. “The zone is about to collapse!” He shot two more hell hounds before wiping his arm over his sweating forehead. “Get out now!”
“Not without you!” came the reply.
Chris twisted out of the way of another hell hound’s attack before shooting it down. He looked straight up at Aaron, furious. “Dammit, Alex, get out!”
Aaron spun around. The crowd behind him had thinned, leaving only three Hunters. Two Aaron didn’t recognise. The third had to be his uncle. Aaron stared at his uncle Alex, only to see Kyran stare back at him.
Aaron woke up breathing hard. Golden light from the setting sun was warming his face, coming in from the bare window. Aaron rubbed a hand down his face, trying to wipe the rest of his sleep away. He rose from his bed, fully clothed with his shoes still on. He had been so tired after helping his mum clean that he had crashed on his bed, intending to just rest but ended up falling asleep.
Aaron ran a hand through his hair, pushing it away from his eyes. He really did need a haircut. He sat on the edge of the bed, his heart still racing from that dream – if that’s what it was. It seemed like an actual memory, like he had somehow opened a flesh memory and witnessed a moment from his dad’s past. He was in a Q-Zone, a collapsing Q-Zone with hell hounds. His heart skipped a beat when he recalled who his dad was calling out to.
Dammit, Alex, get out!
Aaron held on to the memory of his uncle, his dad’s younger brother, a spitting image of Kyran Aedus. Two nights ago, when Aaron had seen Alex’s photo in the hallway, he had been convinced he was staring at Kyran. His dad had come behind him to put a heavy hand on his shoulder, staring at the photo too. He had only said two words, ‘That’s Alex,’ before pulling Aaron away. Aaron finally understood why his parents had looked so shocked at seeing Kyran in Salvador.
Aaron shook his head, trying to clear it, but Alex’s face refused to melt from his mind’s eye. It was impossible for two people to be so similar and not share a blood connection. The same face, the same dark hair, the same green eyes – Aaron paused. No, that wasn’t entirely true. His uncle Alex had had bright green eyes, the kind that sparkled when he smiled, evident by the numerous photos he’d seen around the house. Kyran – his heart leapt just thinking about him – had intense green eyes, the kind that made you stop breathing when they narrowed at you.
Why Kyran looked like his deceased uncle, Aaron didn’t know. He entertained the thought that maybe Kyran was his uncle’s son. That would make Kyran his first cousin. The thought was oddly comforting. But when Aaron remembered the memory Zhi-Jiya had shared with him, he felt his throat close up with fear. Kyran, flanked by two vamages, burning a village to the ground. The memory of those mages’ dying screams rang in his head and Aaron was quick to push the thought away. Kyran wasn’t his cousin. He couldn’t be an Adams. He was too cruel to be from Aaron’s bloodline.
He had killed mages, wiped out entire cities, zones even.
He had taken the key to unlock his father’s powers, giving Hadrian all he needed to destroy the mage realm, and the human one.
He had stood back and let Sam and Rose’s parents die.
It was that last crime which made Aaron’s insides twist with hatred. Kyran could have stopped the vamages. He could have saved Mr and Mrs Mason, but he didn’t.
Aaron let out a long breath. He glanced out of the window. It looked like late afternoon, the blaze of the sun had turned to a comforting glow. How long had his nap taken? Aaron got up and crossed the threshold of his new room.
He opened the door and headed down the dark-panelled corridor to the wide-stepped staircase. The house was big, far too big in Aaron’s opinion. There were two floors with six bedrooms and three bathrooms, and there was also a drawing room and separate living room on the ground floor. The kitchen was three times the size of their old kitchen in the human realm. Aaron had lost count of how many utility rooms there were.
Under other circumstances, Aaron may have been excited to live in such a big place, but the house had been abandoned for almost a decade and a half. Not only was it filthy, it had an entire array of creepy-crawlies taking up residence. His mum had started cleaning the first morning they woke up there. Aaron knew it was too much for her and offered to help. Sam and Rose didn’t offer, they just quietly started cleaning on their own, following Kate’s lead. Chris and Michael spent most of the first few days out of the house, bringing back supplies.
Aaron paused at the stairs, turning to look at the door at his far right. The years of abandonment had taken their toll but three faded colourful letters were still distinguishable on the wooden door.
BEN
Another reason Aaron had offered to help his mum was because of his late brother’s things, lying scattered around the house. Toys in random places, tiny boots tucked under the sofa, a small raincoat hanging behind the door – everywhere Aaron looked there was something of Ben’s waiting to greet them. It was enough to almost break his mum every time.
Aaron stared at the door, at his brother’s room. He hadn’t looked inside, didn’t really want to. He had heard his uncle Michael whispering to his dad about clearing it out but Aaron didn’t think it was going to happen. Not if his dad’s heartbroken expression was anything to go by. They didn’t really need to. They had more than enough rooms. They could leave Ben’s room as it was, preserving his memory.
Aaron made his way downstairs, but paused. Rose did the same, on her way upstairs. For a moment, the two friends just stared at each other, standing so still it looked like they had been frozen. Then Rose blinked and looked away. She cleared her throat.
“Your mum’s looking for you. Dinner’s almost ready.”
Even though there was a communal table outside in the street, Kate prepared all their meals in her own kitchen. None of them had gone outside, save for Chris and Michael.
Rose turned to walk back downstairs without another look at Aaron. Ever since they’d left Salvador, Rose had been distant with him. At first, Aaron thought she was in shock. She had been left heartbroken by Kyran’s deceit. She had liked Kyran, even kissed him, before finding out who he really was and his involvement in her parents’ murder. Aaron understood her hurt, her pain, but he didn’t know why she was taking it out on him.
“Rose?”
She didn’t stop.
“Rose?” Aaron hurried down the steps. “Rose? Hey, wait.” He grabbed her by the arm at the bottom of the stairs. Rose whirled around and shoved him in the chest, hard.
“Don’t touch me!” she snapped.
Aaron stumbled back. He stared at her in stunned shock. He had known Rose all his life. He had seen her being pushy
with Sam, playfully hitting him on the arm or sometimes pushing him away when he was annoying her, but she had never lashed out like this. And never at Aaron.
“What’s wrong with you?” Aaron asked.
“What’s wrong with you?” she retorted. “Why are you grabbing me?”
“To stop you from running away,” Aaron said.
“Why?” she bit out.
“Why?” Aaron asked, incredulously. He stepped closer. “Because we’re friends, that’s why. But ever since we’ve come here, you won’t even talk to me.”
“What’s there to talk about?” Rose asked, her tone sharp, guarded.
Aaron stared at her. His ire melted when he saw past his friend’s anger and saw the fear – the desperate desire to lock away her pain.
He stepped closer. “Rose–”
“Don’t.” Rose backed away. “Don’t, Aaron. I don’t want to hear it. There’s nothing to talk about. I’m fine.”
“No you’re not.”
Rose paused, her eyes continued to burn in anger but her lips pressed together before she shook her head. “I don’t want to talk about it,” she said. “I don’t want to even think about it, about...about...”
Kyran.
She couldn’t say his name, but Aaron didn’t need her to. He took another step, so he was standing close to her, so close he could see the start of dark circles under her eyes.
“You want to be angry, fine, be angry,” he said. “You want to hit me, go ahead. Take out your anger any way you want, but please,” his hand reached out to take hers, “don’t block me out. Don’t be mad at me.”
Rose’s shoulders slumped, the anger left her eyes and remorse replaced it. “I’m not...I’m not mad at you,” she said. “I’m just–” She took in a breath. “I’m just mad.”
Aaron nodded. “I get it.”
Rose looked at him, right in the eyes and Aaron realised that he, in fact, didn’t get it. He had developed a friendship with Kyran, a kind of camaraderie he’d never had with anyone else.
Rose had fallen for Kyran.
A knock on the front door distracted both of them. They turned and looked at it with a frown. Kate walked out of the kitchen, her eyes narrowed with cautious suspicion. Chris and Michael hurried out of one of the rooms; Sam came out of another. They gathered in the hallway, just staring at the front door. It had been four days since they arrived. Until now, no one had knocked on their door.