“What do you mean by that?” he asked.
“Exactly what I said,” snapped Melt. “It’s not always easy. Sometimes it’s hard as fuck. They’re monsters, all of the sprytes and demons… And you always have to keep that in mind.”
Melt took another sip from the flask. Malcolm felt himself getting curious about what the man had to say. He knew that keeping Melt talking was the best way to keep his apartment from getting searched, and if Melt got drunk in the meantime, even better.
“The champions that gave me my orientation here in Vanderbrook spoke about sprytes and demons like they were corrupted,” said Malcolm. “Diseased, even. They made it sound like there wasn’t any real choice for us in the matter.”
“There isn’t,” said Melt. “There’s no choice at all, unless you’re alright with watching a monster murder people.”
He took a slow breath and passed the flask back over to Malcolm, who accepted and took another small sip.
“I had a case once…” said Melt. “A stone spryte. One of the neighbors called it in, explained it to us in vague terms without really saying much. Just said that the girl was staying in a house nearby, and that she was dangerous and needed to be stopped.”
Malcolm didn’t say anything. He listened, waiting for the other man to continue.
“It was way out in the middle of Nebraska,” said Melt. “Small suburban neighborhood. We got to the house, and a guy, a normal person, came out and tried to hold us back, stop us from going in.”
Melt let out a sad laugh and took another sip of gin.
“It was his daughter, the guy says. She’s not evil, just confused and scared, he says. He said he wouldn’t let us take her.”
“What did you do?” asked Malcolm.
“Knocked him out,” said Melt. “Greenthumb grew the grass on the lawn to hold him down in case he woke up. And then, we headed inside.”
Melt paused, taking a long breath. He coughed and patted his chest, fishing a cigarette out of the pack in his front pocket. Under any other circumstances, Malcolm would have stopped him from lighting it, but it was as good a distraction as the gin or their conversation.
“The girl’s mother and sister were sitting at the kitchen table,” said Melt. “Forever. They weren’t going anywhere.”
“Forever?” asked Malcolm.
“She turned them to stone,” said Melt, flashing a sardonic smile. “She turned the food to stone! They were still sitting there. They looked scared, the most perfect statues you’ve ever seen, this poor woman and this little thirteen or fourteen year old girl. Just fucking statues, stuck eating their breakfast for the rest of eternity.”
Melt took a few puffs from the cigarette.
“We went upstairs,” said Melt. “The girl was hiding in her closet. She was little, really little. Too little. She covered her eyes. Wouldn’t look at us. We couldn’t touch her. We couldn’t do anything, other than what we were there to do.”
Melt reached down to his waist. Malcolm tensed up as the other man pulled a gun out of its holster and set it on the couch next to him.
“It took all of the ammo we had,” he said, quietly. “Her skin was made of stone. We had to shoot through it, shoot until there was just a bunch of little pieces left. Rocks and dust. Probably breathed some of it in on the way out.”
“I’m… sorry,” said Malcolm.
“I don’t regret it for a second,” said Melt. “It’s what we had to do.”
Melt stood up suddenly. Malcolm tensed up, searching for something he could say to buy the last few minutes he needed for Rose to escape. Melt started walking toward his bedroom door. Malcolm got to his feet, preparing to physically throw himself in front of the doorway, if need be.
Melt walked right passed the door. He snuffed his cigarette out in the kitchen sink, turned on the faucet, and washed his face. He took a deep breath before turning around to face Malcolm again.
“Hold onto that anger, Wind Runner,” said Melt. “Never forget what that monster did to your family. You got have something to hold onto. Greenthumb’s got his hippie girlfriend and their little organic farm, maybe kids someday. Everybody’s got something for motivation.”
Malcolm resisted the urge to ask Melt what he had for motivation, suspecting that he wouldn’t get a straightforward answer. Instead, he just stayed silent. A minute or so passed by before footsteps sounded from the other side of the front door. Greenthumb came back into the apartment.
“The grass didn’t tell me much,” he said. “We’ll need to look for another lead. Did you find anything here, Melt?”
“No,” said Melt.
Greenthumb sniffed the air.
“Seriously?” he asked. “Smoking and drinking while on duty? We’ve been over this before, Melt.”
“Shut the fuck up.”
Melt left the apartment. Greenthumb turned his attention back toward Malcolm, looking him over with appraising eyes.
“Here,” said Greenthumb, handing him a card. “Call me if you hear anything. You can report to your superiors at the local Champion Authority base as well, of course, but I’d like to be informed of any leads as soon as possible.”
“Sure,” said Malcolm.
“I give thanks on Melt’s behalf for your hospitality,” said Greenthumb. “He can be a volatile man sometimes, especially when his mind wanders from his duty.”
Greenthumb was smiling, but there was no cheer in it. Malcolm made eye contact with him and felt a cold chill run down his spine.
“Its fine,” said Malcolm. “He just seems a little a tired.”
“As we all are,” said Greenthumb. “There aren’t enough of us to stave off the evil we’re up against. Speaking of which, I really do think you’d make a fantastic field champion. You have the right disposition for it. I’ll put in a good word with your superiors to get the ball rolling.”
“Oh, no, that’s not-”
“I insist,” said Greenthumb. He nodded, shook Malcolm’s hand, and then left the apartment without another word.
CHAPTER 19
Malcolm spent several nervous minutes watching the door, unsure of how he’d handled the situation. Regardless of what Greenthumb had said about putting in a good word, he was sure the account given to Tapestry and Multi would include the fact that he’d inadvertently aided a spryte.
Rose was gone, and Malcolm felt conflicted. Having her at his apartment would only put both of them at risk. She wasn’t safe with him now that he was on the radar of the field champions. Still, as he checked over his room a second time, letting the overhead light illuminate the dark corners of his closet, he kind of missed her.
This was the plan. I distracted them until the sun set so that she could escape. I’ll probably never see her again.
He gave up thinking about it after a few minutes. Dinner was a rather meager affair, pasta along with some frozen sausage. He ate in front of the TV, playing video games and pausing whenever he heard the floorboards of the apartment creak, or the wind blowing at his window. He checked each time, part of him hoping that it was Rose.
Malcolm awoke the next morning to a newly familiar ritual. Tapestry was already in his apartment, and this time she pushed all the way into his bedroom, knocking only as a formality before throwing the door open.
“Wake up time,” said Tapestry. “Get dressed. Put on a nice shirt, something with a collar.”
Malcolm groaned and sat up. Tapestry was wearing jeans, a white blouse, and a long, navy button up sweater. She crossed her arms and tapped her foot impatiently.
“What’s the emergency?” mumbled Malcolm. “Is it really necessary for us to start this early?”
“You have an interview with VCAX in two hours,” she said. “I’ve got to get you their early so the makeup people can do their thing.”
Malcolm groaned louder. He wasn’t interested in having more eyes on him, not after his encounter with the field champions. He was beginning to realize that being part of the Champion Authority was more tedious than he’d
originally imagined.
“Fine,” said Malcolm. “Just… give me a minute.”
Tapestry waited in the living room while he changed. He pulled on a dress shirt along with a pair of tan slacks, and headed outside. She’d brought a box of donuts with her, which did wonders at buoying Malcolm’s mood.
He didn’t say much as he rode in the passenger seat of the BMW, and hoped that Tapestry would chalk it up to him still being tired. In reality, his thoughts were still centered on Rose, whether she was safe, and whether she’d risk coming back to his apartment.
It might be better if she doesn’t. It’s too dangerous, for both of us.
“Multi told me about your little night adventure,” said Tapestry. “The next time you’re planning on going crime fighting, or whatever it was that you thought you were doing, please be smarter about it.”
“That’s a little harsh,” said Malcolm.
Tapestry shrugged and smiled at him.
“Maybe a little,” she admitted. “But it’s as much an issue of safety for you, as it is anything. We don’t have a lot of champions in Vanderbrook, as you’ve noticed. We need to keep the ones we do have in one piece.”
Malcolm didn’t say anything for a couple of seconds.
“Have you met Melt and Greenthumb before?” he asked. “They were the field agents that followed up on the, uh, incident that I was involved in.”
“I’m familiar with them,” said Tapestry.
She didn’t elaborate, which Malcolm found curious.
“They talked to me about the monsters,” he said. “The demons and the sprytes. What it’s like to hunt them down, and why they have to do it.”
“That’s what they do,” said Tapestry.
“And… what do you think of that?” asked Malcolm. “I’m still new to this world. It just seems like they see things like they’re black and white. They hunt monsters. They kill monsters. They don’t ask questions.”
“Malcolm…” Tapestry pulled to a stop at a red light and glanced over at him, frowning a little. “People die when demons and sprytes are allowed to run wild. Your family… I hate to bring this up, but don’t you wish someone had dealt with the monster that killed them before it stumbled into your neighborhood?”
Malcolm winced. The wound of their deaths was still raw, even after so much time.
“Yeah,” he said. “I do.”
“Speaking of which, how about this?” she asked. “You take this interview seriously, and focus on putting on a good face for the cameras. Then, we skip training for the rest of today. I can take you up to headquarters to look in the database for any demons or sprytes matching the description of the one you’re looking for.”
Malcolm forced a smile.
“Sure,” he said. “That sounds great.”
Tapestry reached over. She put her hand on top of his and gave it a small squeeze in an unusual show of affection. Malcolm felt a familiar tingle, and realized that he’d just absorbed her power again.
God dammit. I really need to remember to start wearing gloves, like Rose said.
“I can’t imagine how it must have been for you,” she said. “A family… isn’t something that’s easy to lose so early on in life. I want to help you find vengeance, if you can.”
Malcolm nodded. The light turned green, and Tapestry drove through the intersection.
The VCAX studio was downtown, located in a midsized building. The station’s call letters stood, like a piece of modern art, in front of a large plate glass window on the ground floor. Tapestry parked in the back lot, and they went inside.
“They’re going to ask about the Instagram thing,” said Tapestry, as they waited for the receptionist.
“What?” Malcolm frowned at her. “How is that relevant to what happened at the school?”
“It’s not like they’ll limit the interview to a single topic, Wind Runner,” said Tapestry. “You are the real story here, not the school shooter. Heck, I wouldn’t be surprised if the girl whose home you fell into ended up writing a ‘full detailed’ account for some unscrupulous magazine.”
“Heck?” asked Malcolm. “Seriously?”
Tapestry rolled her eyes.
“I don’t like to swear,” she said.
Malcolm chuckled, and was even more amused by the way she blushed at his reaction. The receptionist finally showed up, and immediately waved for both of them to follow her.
“This is the dressing room,” she said. “Felicity will take care of you. I’m going to have to ask for your companion to wait in the lobby.”
Tapestry frowned slightly, but Malcolm smiled reassuringly.
“It’ll be fine,” he said. “I won’t say anything stupid. I promise.”
“Just… do your best,” said Tapestry, a bit begrudgingly.
Malcolm walked into the dressing room and took a seat in front of a long mirror. A woman with glasses and a ponytail entered after a minute and immediately began applying makeup.
“Oh, wow,” said the girl. “Sorry! I’m kind of nervous! I mean… you’re the Wind Runner.”
Malcolm chuckled.
“You can call me Malcolm,” he said. “Don’t believe the rumors, I’m just a normal guy.”
“Right,” said the girl. “Half the people at the station were combing the internet for any secret gossip they could find about you.”
“The Instagram thing wasn’t enough for them?”
“They want the really juicy secrets.” The girl pushed some type of makeup pad against his cheeks. “Speaking of which, there’s already fanfiction being written about you.”
“Fan… fiction?” Malcolm shook his head slowly.
“Sorry, I’m kind of into that sort of thing,” she said. “Some of it is really out there. You might want to read it. Or maybe not. It’s really out there.”
“Okay…” said Malcolm. The girl made him turn his head from side to side, apparently happy with the job she’d done. She didn’t say anything, instead she just stood there looking at him.
“Do you need anything else?” she asked. “Coffee? Juice?”
“I’m good,” said Malcolm. “Thanks, though.”
The girl sighed, and left the room. Malcolm looked at himself in the mirror, impressed by the job she’d done.
He waited for at least an hour before someone finally came to get him. He was led down a hall and into a dim backstage area.
“Don’t worry, it’s not live,” said one of the techs. “If you get confused by any of the questions, just ask Jennifer to rephrase it for you. We can edit stuff like that out later.”
“Got it,” said Malcolm.
“Alright then,” said the tech. “Head on out and take a seat.”
Malcolm was surprised by how bright the lights were. The set was simple, with two comfortable chairs facing each other in front of a basic backdrop. The space looked smaller from his perspective than it had on TV, and the presence of the cameras and the microphones made it feel less impressive, somehow.
He recognized Jennifer Morgan as she walked out to take the seat across from him. He’d seen her dozens, if not hundreds of times before since she’d been hired by VCAX. She was pretty, but not overly so, with black hair and pale skin. She wore a blue suit jacket with a matching skirt.
“Malcolm Caldwell,” said Jennifer. “It’s great to have you here today.”
“Great to be here, Jennifer.” He smiled, feeling ridiculous at how easy it was to slide into the role of the interviewee.
“Do you prefer that I call you Malcolm, or Mr. Caldwell, or… Wind Runner?”
Malcolm hesitated before answering.
“Wind Runner is fine,” he said.
CHAPTER 20
The first half of the interview was straightforward, even boring, at times. Jennifer asked him about his early life, about growing up in Vanderbrook. Malcolm wondered why anybody would care about who he’d been, and how he’d lived before becoming a champion, but he answered as honestly as he could.
T
he interview only started to get interesting for him when she finally started asking about the day he’d discovered his powers. He described the scene in the classroom to her in general detail, leaving out any mention of the music he’d been listening to.
It’s probably best if I treat my focus activity a little like I have to treat my weakness.
“And so, you left the school,” said Jennifer. “And you began jumping from roof top to roof top?”
Malcolm fidgeted slightly.
“Uh… that’s correct.” He scratched his head. At the time, he’d only cared about using his powers, and seeing what he could do with them. He hadn’t stopped to consider what the public must have seen as he leapt through town, trespassing on private property, and generally disturbing the peace.
“Mr. Wind Runner, I know this is a sensitive issue to address, but everyone’s talking about it,” said Jennifer. “A woman named Emily Jenkins posted several photos of you on social media on this same morning.”
“Yeah…” said Malcolm. “I sort of… fell through her window.”
“She was naked at the time,” said Jennifer. “And the two of you… engaged in sexual intercourse?”
Malcolm squirmed.
“Something like that,” he said. “It was very spur of the moment.”
“To be clear, even by her account, it was consensual,” said Jennifer. “I didn’t mean to imply otherwise. The concern that many people, including myself have, is what it says about your personality.”
Don’t say something stupid… Don’t say something stupid…
“My personality?” asked Malcolm. “I mean, I’d like to think that it means that I’m charming. Funny, laid back, with a winning smile and a nice, big… shoe size.”
Jennifer stared at him in stunned silence. Malcolm tried to smile, his hopes for the interview sinking along with the joke.
“What I meant to say,” he continued. “…was that it was totally a mistake, and I recognize that now.”
“Right,” said Jennifer. “Mr. Wind Runner, Ms. Jenkins claims that after the two of you finished, you became hostile over her wish to document the encounter,” said Jennifer.
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