by Lee Taylor
“Drogan, what are you doing here?’” She mused, sounding delighted to see him, it made me feel sick.
“Tessa, I am glad to see you have regained your awareness.” Drogan stopped in his place. I tried to reset a few of my ribs as he stood talking to her. I had lost my voice, caught amongst guttural rasps and wheezes.
“I was worried that you were going to remain indefinitely incubating in your human bound host.” He said the word “human” with severe acid in his tone.
“It gave me an opportunity to get things in perspective,” Tessa said, appearing to be getting tired of the conversation. They really were royalty, and their discussion was as boring as a sack of potatoes.
“Tell me, Drogan, what are you doing? You know that you are forbidden from using that class of powers in the material realm. It can put too much strain on your host, and yourself.”
“Do not school me on my powers; I know more than you can imagine, you degenerate whore.” Spitting the words, Drogan stood to face her, hands hanging loose at either side with his gaze fixed for the time on her.
“You honestly think I had a choice in the matter? The human thought that he was saving me.” Tessa laughed her mocking tone towards me. I punched the ground, still unable to speak. I had just come to face the facts that I had feelings for her, and that we shared a bond. And now I find out she really couldn’t stand me... But she had to... My mind just comprehended what she had said... The way she referred to me as a human and laughed... I could feel and hear Arktos in my head. He was going berserk. Electrical impulses running through my body of pure rage charged me to near breaking point. At first, they only manifested in twitches. Like that of jealous rage, it didn’t feel fulfilling, but it was enough to take my mind off the pain and heal more rapidly. Giving into my anger, it only left more room for hatred, but at this moment in time, hatred was my only ally.
Chapter 25
“I am more than human.” At first my words spoken were barely above a whisper, they both ignored me as they exchanged fond glances.
“Humans rarely think of others until it is too late, so tell me what makes that human special? I see no great significance in his strength or skill; he is but a punching bag to me, really quite entertaining,” Drogan said to Tessa. They laughed, lightly finding his analysis of “humans” to be entertaining. Arktos roared, and I along with him, finally the rage had blotted out the pain enough for me to transform. My skin astringently hardening with its pupas like lacquer, The boiling pot of anger overflowing with dark thoughts and ideas from within, enough for even Arktos to fall silent. I was wondering what Lycaon meant by not knowing my true power as a Therianthrope until I learnt my dark passengers name, and came to a truce. But now as I stood on the precipice that I had once feared would consume me, I dove in, head first.
Drogan and Tessa had sensed the change in me, the dark swell gathering around and expelling all the debris at my feet out of reach as I absorbed energy from everything around me. The first fissure in my skin appeared as I tensed in anticipation. The rest soon followed suit. Standing a good meter taller than I had been, everything seemed to make sense. Being in control before felt like I was trying on someone else’s costume, fitting tight in places, where I had struggled for balance, and awareness. My senses, although previously heightened, were dull in comparison. This time the change felt custom made, tailor-fitted to me. When I moved it did not feel awkward. When I stretched in the cloud of ash that concealed me, I did not feel concern or off-balanced with my newly developed muscles; I felt comfortable. It felt right, natural even, and I, along with Arktos, was looking forward to seeing how we performed. My bitter rage was still present, but I was marvelled at the feel of the situation as the cloud settled, and the room was still silent with my rapturous transformation. I looked at my hands, and to my alarm they still appeared human, but with a shadow that was draped over me in the image of the monstrous entity. I considered if this is how Lycaon felt, or if it was born from the anger that consumed me.
“You can try all your tricks, lycanthrope, but you will still die here today.” Drogan’s tone was no longer mocking, or light. I could smell the shock and fear on him in his dewy perspiration. Tessa looked at me and squinted. She didn’t seem to recognize me. In a flash as my gaze was caught with her own, Drogan was on me, hitting me repeatedly from several different angles. I couldn’t feel them... and so still I stood there, glaring intently at Tessa.
“Why, Tessa? Why do you look so confused?” I queried. Tessa looked away, there was an emotion there, but I couldn’t read it. The darkness that shrouded my naked body was like the pools of darkness in my mind... It was numbing. I could feel that I was on the verge of losing myself in the bleak, dreary darkness that now shrouded me. Drogan released a feral grunt and struck me again, but this time with more force. My step faltered. Capitalizing on the situation he leapt and began pounding my temples with his fists, his thighs squeezing tightly around my neck, and I swatted him off like an annoying insect. The impact sent him plunging into a wall, causing the parlour to shake with the sudden remodelling.
I turned my back on the recent addition, and paced toward Tessa. Tendrils of insanity whispered terrible things to me; I had to strain to hear her.
“It’s not what you think, Ursine,” she said softly, still avoiding eye contact. My anger swelled.
“What do I think, Tessa? Do you even care?” Again she avoided my demonic gaze. Glazed with the malice I felt swelling within me, I know now that before, I sounded like a scorned lover, and I can understand that given the situation I was in, it seemed petty... But I never said that I was gifted with the greatest common sense or foresight.
“Ursine... I can’t. It’s better if I don’t...”
“Don’t what?” I screamed.
“I hate it... I hate having... I have feelings of my own... for the first time in my existence, Ursine. I can still feel you. I can feel the way you do when you look at me.” Tessa bowed her head and grabbed handfuls of her hair.
“But I have my own emotions to deal with now, and my own family problems and you... you’re only making things harder,” Tessa whispered, lifting her head to look at me. She had tears welling up in her eyes. Seeing this frail, beautiful goddess standing in front of me, I let my anger go, and the shadow that held me receded to the darkness of my mind. I stood in front of her, a bare, simple human.
“I can help you, Tessa, we can work through this,” I said, urging her to reconsider. She looked at me, a slow tear rolling down her cheek from her incandescent emerald shimmering eyes, eyes that flecked violet as she paused for thought, reflecting gentle rainbows as the light shone on her.
The room fell deathly quiet as I hunted for the right words to say. Unable to think of something suitable, I took her hands in my own, and looked more intently at her. Her porcelain hands were dwarfed in my own and shaking gently.
“Tessa... I had a dream... You were in it with me... And even though it turned bitter and violent... When I woke, what upset me most was that you were not there beside me. I know we have a lot of things to deal with, but if we survive this, I want to know that you are in my future.” She took her hands away and turned from me, walking to the large bay window that looked out amongst the frigid landscape that encapsulated George’s fortress. She placed her hands on the glass, leaning forward and released a gentle sob, tears beating down her face landing silently on the rug beneath her.
“Tessa, I…”
She interrupted holding her hand out to stop me.
“Don’t, Ursine, don’t you dare say it!” Her reflection in the glass revealed to me that she was crying, although I already knew. I longed to comfort her, but was unsure how. I wanted to walk over to her, pick her up in my arms, and kiss her. But I feared the rejection. So I decided to say how I felt.
“Tessa I...” I stopped mid-sentence. A barb of white-hot shuddering agony struck me, and I was filled with pure terror.
“I told you, Ursine, keep your damn mouth shut....
Ursine... Ursine?” Tessa turned around to see me, hanging off the floor with a blade sticking through my chest. The look of horror that filled her complexion had me wanting to say something... Anything... But I couldn’t.
“You should have listened to her, boy.” Drogan was looking a bit worse for wear after throwing him into the brick wall. I had all but forgotten him.
“You piece of shit, I swear I will make you pay!” Tessa screamed, her eyes flaring violet with grief.
“Come now, Tessa, the bond is broken. Whatever you thought he felt for you, you will forget soon enough.” Tessa ran at him in a blur of speed. Laughing, Drogan held my corpse in her way, and threw my lifeless form at her. She caught me, sinking to the floor with my muscular body incapacitating her, fingering the tip of the blade that pierced thought my back, straight through my heart and chest, and let tears run into my shoulder.
“Why… Why did you have to be so stupid? Winnie… Winnie, wake up!” Tessa cried. Drogan had skilfully slipped a blade into my back, and all but cut my heart out, but left the blade in to stop me from bleeding.
“I love you,” she whispered, placing me on the floor. The room shook violently, window panes cracked in their sills, exploding inward bombarding Drogan with a hail of razor-sharp beads of glass.
“There’s my Tessa.” Outraged, she ran at him again. This time, Drogan side-stepped her and grabbed hold of her neck and called out to George.
“George, our matters are concluded for the time being. Let me know when the Venetians request my aid. I shall stick true to my word.” There was no answer; Drogan didn’t seem to need one, already knowing the response. He cracked and flexed his muscles, unbuttoning his shirt he slashed the Sigil tattooed on his stomach. Tessa screamed and hit him, fighting to get loose, but he would not release her so lost in grief that she never put up a real fight. Finally Drogan managed to do the same to Tessa, chanting something in a language that I had not heard before, sounding closer to grunts than actual words. A red and violet flash emitted from the hosts before both Tessa and Drogan’s hosts collapsed to the floor. Three bodies now littered the parlour.
Nothing happened for a long while; I could hear everything going on around me, although it had a tinny quality to it. I could see what was direct in front of me. A familiar fragrance crept up in the air around me, even though I wasn’t aware I was breathing... If I was at all it smelt like the tobacco my dad smoked. The rich, oaky cigar plumes wafted around me like nimbus clouds in the heavens.
“Ursine, stop lying there feeling sorry for yourself; you’re not dead.” His coarse voice snatched my attention.
He released a sigh, and patted me on the shoulder, my eyes widened in disbelief. I could see that I was lying on a pile of ash. In fact, everywhere I looked was layered in ash, ruined remains and more bones than I could count poked out through the ground. It was a really eerie place. Looking upward, even the sky seemed depressive, nothing but black clouds reaching across the huge expanse, with no sign of sunlight breaking through it was astonishing that there was any light at all.
“Wha... what the hell am I doing here? And what the hell are you doing with me?” I startled myself with the volume of my voice.
“That day you broke up from school, you remember?” My dad asked, and I nodded... I don’t think I could ever forget the day my life changed.
“Well, on my way back home I bumped into an old acquaintance, and they weren’t very receptive.” His voice was more gravelly than normal. I looked him up and down; he didn’t look very well. His skin was almost like that of Tessa’s in my dream: a pale earthy grey.
“You’re in the spiritual realm, son; I have been here for a while, trying to communicate.” I glared at him blankly, for a moment, completely dumfounded at what he had just said.
“You died, son, but don’t worry, you’ll soon be good as new.” I could hear in his strained tone that he was holding something back.
“What the hell do you know about the spiritual realm, or anything other than stock options for that matter? And why are you suddenly taking an interest in my life at all? What aren’t you saying, dad?”
“Si, I know a lot more than you give me credit for. This is why your schoolwork is so poor. You simply fail to listen. You’re always too busy going off whining about something that is unimportant.”
“What happened?” I asked. My dad looked around and sighed. I looked behind where he stood and could see several ruined structures. Ash was everywhere; where we were standing was smothered with vicious belches from a volcano. One thing for sure, I don’t think my dad was here looking to invest in a timeshare; it definitely wasn’t Disney Land. The sheer, sodden expanse made the hairs stand up on the back of my neck. Shadows in the distance were shuffling towards us, not even so much as a sprig of grass cropped out from the ground to be seen. A warm, stale breeze fluttered around in fluctuating drafts, like the sporadic sweaty breath of an animal. It was enough to put me on edge.
“You don’t need to know what happened... you just need to know that I’m just concerned for you, that’s all,” My dad said, his face wrinkling with worry. His short, cropped, oak-coloured hair looked as dull and boring as I ever remembered. His icy blue eyes squinted and flared as he gazed at me uneasily. Now, my dad never showed any kind of concern for me, so whatever was happening, was really starting to creep me out. The last time my dad showed any real interest was when I got in a fight with my gym class teacher. Mr Ferguson was demonstrating on one of the bleacher kids (you know one of the kids that doesn’t want to participate, and would rather spend his time on World of Warcraft.) Well unfortunately, being part of the curriculum, Tom Schmitz had to. And so Mr Ferguson tackled him, over and over again. Some of the jocks thought it was a riot bagging on the geek. Well, I had enough of his bully-antics so when he was running in on goal; I slid in and took him out. He went berserk and nearly swallowed his whistle. Anyway, to cut a long story short, my dad got called in from work to pick me up from the principal’s office, apologizing profusely the entire time, and as soon as I got out of there with my dad, he beat the crap out of me. The whole time telling me ‘it was for my own good’, and ‘I would appreciate as I got older,’ I never bothered to fight back, because if I did, he would only hit harder. I don’t actually think that my mom was aware, because if she was she would have left him in a heartbeat, but she was so happy when my dad was around. I didn’t want to be the reason to split them up.
“You’re concerned? Oh, well that’s just fantastic!” My sarcasm was completely lost on him.
“Don’t take that snide tone with me, boy.” Now this was the dad that I was used to, all filled with resentment. I kept staring into his pale eyes, fighting back, and holding a sneer. My dark passenger was as still as the air around me.
“So who was your friend that took precedence over everything?” I asked, faking interest. Looking around to see if there was something that I missed, like a way out of this god awful place.
“You were listening, then?” My dad stated, tactfully avoiding my question... with a question. I stood looking at him; he seemed almost apprehensive to talk about it, was this guy what my dad had been holding back? I pressed on for more information.
“Well, are you just going to stand there looking flummoxed?” I hadn’t realised that I was talking with such venom; it was surprising that he hadn’t hit me down there and then. (For my dad, I mean.) Again he shifted uncomfortably.
“You should learn how to address your elders.” A threat was laced in with his retort. I gave no reaction or response, and thought of the insight my mom had given me:
“Sometimes it’s best for you, darling, if you just shut-up and listen.”
She had said that to me more than a few times, and so I did. I waited for my dad to talk, the whole while I was keeping eye-contact. A minute passed by without a word being uttered, till eventually, he angrily ‘tutted’, turning his back to me and mumbled.
“It was your dad.” My eyes widened in disbelief of what
my dad had just said; the words uttered from his mouth made no sense... and also made my heart stop beating for the second time in about five minutes. There was a pulse of light, and my body arched in pain. The next thing I knew I was laying on the parlour floor with different hazy forms sweeping around me. I didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to my dad.
***
Ivan ran at Crow, stepping over Sanchez’s paralysed form and swung wildly with another of the makeshift spears he had created. Acting like a harpoon, it impaled the great undead-thing. Crow turned and cocked his head, an expression a puppy would give its owner the first time they threw a ball and expected the puppy to scamper away and go get it. Crow too was confused at what exactly the old man thought that we would accomplish with such a pathetic weapon. Slowly he pulled the spear out, the dagger still in place; black-ooze gushed out, drooping and dripping slowly down like treacle. Crow planned on turning Ivan’s spear against him, seeing if Ivan was impervious to harm as he was, a wicked smile spreading from ear to decrepit ear. Still not taking stock of Mike who was trying adamantly to remove the athame and plunge it into Crow once more. Whatever was happening upstairs was quite big, and they were missing a majority of it because of this boulder standing in their way. Ivan began to quickly hatch a new plan, looking around the room to see what they could use to aid them. He had the perfect idea after a mere few seconds of consideration.
“Michael, help Kitty to her feet and make your way to the door.” Ivan’s words were drenched with his thick Russian tone. Mike looked to him, slightly perplexed at the idea of leaving her dagger and running, but agreed all the same. It had to be better than leaving her at such great risk, and in so much pain. Crow’s smile spread more as he saw Mike approach Kitty; he was planning on swatting him while his back was turned then, ignoring the feeble old man and relishing his moments with the witch.