The Mistwalker (Dark Tales Book 2)

by Regine Abel

  “That’s enough, Jeff!” Agent Thomson said, his own hand hovering over his hip before realizing he didn’t have a weapon, being in civilian clothes. “I’m relieving you of duty and putting you on administrative leave until you’ve completed a psychological evaluation to determine your ability to serve. Gentlemen, please seize him.”

  The two agents who had walked into the room with Wilkins hesitated. While I could still sense their hatred towards my kind, and therefore me, they were starting to realize that their leader had gone off the deep end. That hesitation was enough to create the opportunity the crazy man needed.

  Whipping out his gun, Wilkins aimed at Agent Thomson. Everyone tensed, the other agents pulling out their own weapons but not seeming to know where to aim.

  “I’m relieving you of duty, Agent Thomson. It is obvious that your extensive exposure to these unnatural beings has tainted your perception of right and wrong and made you forget your oath to protect humans first.”

  “Jefferson,” Thomson said, raising his palms in an appeasing gesture, “put down your weapon, son. Don’t throw away your life and your career. Let’s talk about this.”

  “We can talk after I’ve sent this demon back to Hell.”

  My shield went up half a second before he finished turning his weapon towards me. Still, the bullet struck the center of my chest with the force of a freight train, knocking the wind out of me. Despite my vision blurring from the pain, I lunged at him through the shouts of the men and Jade’s horrified scream. With an angry roar, I grabbed his hands and pinned them against the wall to prevent him from shooting again. In my current state, I couldn’t handle too many more.

  “Get off me!” Wilkins shouted, trying to break free of my hold. I pressed my body to his to keep him from kicking and kneeing me. “Shoot him!”

  “Don’t shoot!” Thomson yelled.

  Time stood still for a moment then an evil glimmer of clarity flashed through Wilkins’ eyes, sending a cold shiver down my spine.

  “Help! He’s leeching me! Kill him! KILL HIM!”

  Multiple deflagrations deafened me followed immediately by the atrocious pain of two bullets battering my ethereal shield along my right leg. The third pierced through it, and I cried out in agony as my femur shattered under the close range impact. I stumbled backwards before collapsing onto the floor. Through blurred vision I watched helplessly as Wilkins aimed his gun at my chest with a demented grin on his face. Through the blood rushing in my ears, I heard the men’s panicked shouts, Thomson yelling warnings at Wilkins to stop, and Jade screaming my name. The latter affected me the most; I couldn’t console or protect her.

  I should have taken her home when I had the chance.

  As if in slow motion, a bright flash appeared at the muzzle of Wilkins’ gun followed by a golden bullet racing towards me. Just as it buried itself in my chest, three holes appeared in the middle of Wilkins’ own chest, his pristine, white dress shirt greedily absorbing his life’s blood. He stared at his wounds with a surprised expression before sliding down the wall, his eyes glazing over.

  The most horrible pain I’d ever felt tore me apart as the bullet shattered inside of me. My heart stuttered while my lungs filled with liquid I could only assume to be blood. The room spun around me, the cold tiles beneath my bare back feeling warmer than my own body.

  “KAZAN!” Jade screamed, rushing to my side and falling to her knees next to me.

  Tuning out the chaos all around us, I struggled to focus on my beautiful Jade’s face. Strained with sorrow, her cheeks drenched with tears, she looked at me with pleading eyes.

  “Don’t leave me. Please, don’t leave me,” she begged, shaking her head in denial.

  “My Jade,” I said, my mouth filling with blood.

  I tried to raise a hand to caress her face but didn’t have the strength. Jade took my hand and brought it to her cheek, leaning into it. Her pain tortured me far worse than my failing vessel.

  “Please, baby. Please,” she begged.

  “I have loved you my whole life,” I said, my voice wet from the blood filling my lungs. “I will always love you, in this world and all others beyond. Thank you for wishing me.”

  “No, Kazan. No! I love you. You can’t leave me.” She looked up at the men around us. “Help him, please. Please!”

  Cracks appeared on my hand pressed against her cheek and along my arm like it would on dried mud. Part of my hand as well as lumps of flesh along my arms crumbled into ashes as I felt myself float away.

  “Jade,” I whispered, before the last of my consciousness was sucked away into the void under the fading sound of my one true love’s agonized scream of despair.

  CHAPTER 13

  Jade

  Kazan was dead; permanently dead. Even as his body had turned to ashes in my arms, I’d held on to the belief that somehow he’d return to me. After his men had disposed of Wilkins’ body, Agent Thomson did his best to console me and offered to have his people handle Kazan’s funeral. Either way, because of his fame, they had to spin an acceptable tale to avoid suspicion. I didn’t give a shit about suspicion or ‘protecting the public’ kind of bullshit. My heart had been torn right out of my chest with his passing.

  Ultimately, I convinced Agent Thomson to keep Kazan’s death a secret. He’d promised to always fight for me. He’d traveled across worlds to be with me. I refused to believe this was it. The news crushed Monica. In some ways, my loss made her relive hers. As much as it shamed me to have her go through this again, she was my rock through this nightmare.

  Kazan shouldn’t have died. Even though the first shots would have left him with a permanent limp, the other agents had not shot to kill, only to incapacitate. Crazy or not, I felt no sympathy for Wilkins. If Agent Tate hadn’t killed him, I would have. How ironic that his former partner in crime should have been the one to put him down once he’d realized who the true monster in the room was.

  The twenty-seven days before the first Mist after his death dragged on at an excruciatingly slow pace. Over the three days it lasted, my heart broke even more as my hopes and prayers remained unanswered; Kazan didn’t visit me.

  As soon as the Mist lifted, I visited every location he had shown me in the Mist as the places he used for birthing his human form and where he used to stash whatever he owned to give him a leg up on his next incarnation. But that, too, proved another crushing disappointment. At the end of the third month, with still no signs from Kazan, I had no choice but to give in to both Agent Thomson’s and Monica’s pressure to announce Kazan’s death and give him an official burial.

  We obviously couldn’t give him an open casket funeral even though the Fourth Division had done an amazing job of preserving him. Still, with the parts of him that had turned to ash, he looked like a chipped and partially broken statue. Monica accompanied me when the agents cremated his remains. Laura had wanted to attend to support me, but the Fourth Division didn’t allow it.

  Monica took care of the public funeral. There was an impressive attendance from fans and other members of the artistic community. They all commiserated with me and mourned the senseless loss of such a talented man to a landslide while driving along a hilly area.

  The week after, I found out that Kazan had declared me his sole heir and executor, his will having been drawn up around the time Patrick and I had considered getting married. His wealth exceeded what I could make in a lifetime in my current career. Yet, I would have given it all up for a chance to be with him again.

  Despite all that, I kept clinging to hope. I remembered Kazan saying he would gather energy for five to six months to be able to stay in my world without an anchor for a few weeks. When the sixth month came and went and I didn’t find him at any of his locations, I finally accepted that he was gone.

  I’d been living in Kazan’s flat since his death to feel his presence around me but, under both my sister and Monica’s advice, I sold both the apartment and my house. I’d been on sabbatical from work since that tragic day but de
cided to hand in my resignation. After packing my belongings and the six centerpiece paintings of us, I donated Kazan’s clothes to homeless shelters, left town, and moved in to a cozy little house near my sister’s college. Not knowing what I wanted to do with the rest of my empty life, I was happy the landlord had agreed to rent it as I didn’t want to commit to anything at this point.

  As the City Defense Alarm sounded outside, I slowly walked to the closed window and watch the Mist rise, gradually drowning the city in its white vapor. I no longer feared it, knowing its rules and inhabitants. Still, as the outline of the first lumbering silhouette of a Mistbeast appeared in the distance, I activated the metal shutters, having no desire to gaze upon other people’s nightmares.

  I had enough of my own.

  EPILOGUE

  Kazan

  Cold. Biting cold. Numb fingers, hands, and feet. Even my blood felt on the verge of turning to ice in my veins. Turning to my side left me exhausted and panting for breath. But the freezing air stabbed at my lungs and airways.

  I’m too weak. This was too soon.

  But it had been so long… Would my impatience be my ultimate demise? Even opening my eyes felt like a herculean feat. When I did, the sight before me gave my lurching heart a jolt. Less than a meter away on a low bench, folded and protected from mold and humidity by a plastic bag, a thick blanket stared at me.

  I hadn’t left it there. In fact, I had neglected my birth refuge since I’d met Jade. Had someone else begun using it? Still, the prospect of warmth gave me a surge of strength. Rolling to my stomach, I struggled to get to all fours, my arms and legs shaking. Advancing at a snail’s pace with ungainly movements, I finally reached my target, my fingers almost too numb to get my prize out of its wrapping. A strangled moan tore from my throat as the blessed heat of the blanket settled over me.

  A white, rectangular-shaped object dangling from a corner of the blanket drew my attention. Reaching for it with trembling hands, I lifted it closer to my face and nearly wept realizing it was a controller for a battery operated heating blanket. I pressed the ON button and within seconds, the temperature of the blanket increased. I moaned with pleasure, wrapping myself tightly in this heavenly gift, and curled up into a fetal position.

  I don’t know how long I stayed like that, gradually feeling warm and toasty, my newborn body coming back to life. The City Defense Alarm, sounding off in the distance, prompted me out of my cocoon. Standing on unsteady feet, I frowned at the sight of a large suitcase next to the waterproof storage cabinet I’d brought here. A note inside a transparent plastic cover had been taped on top.

  Leaning forward, my throat tightened and my chest constricted as I began reading.

  ‘Dear Traveler,

  May these items provide you the strength and comfort required to pursue your wish, as I’d hoped they would my Kazan.

  J.’

  My Jade… My beautiful Jade… Even after she’d lost hope for us, she would help others achieve their dreams. My heart filled to bursting as I opened the suitcase to find warm clothes, boots to my size, a winter coat, a wallet containing two hundred dollars, and a disposable phone. Tears pricked my eyes as I put on the divine clothes. They were a little big, but I didn’t care.

  Opening the storage cabinet, my heart soared once more with gratitude to find it filled with bottles of water, cans of energy drinks, energy bars, beef jerky and various other consumables with long expiration dates. Sitting on the low bench, I downed an energy drink. To my pleasant surprise, this body didn’t seem to mind the excessive sugar it contained. Nevertheless, I washed it away with a bottle of water before chewing on an energy bar. As I started on the second one, ready to open the package of the disposable phone, the sound of an approaching car startled me.

  Rising to my feet, I listened, heart pounding as the car stopped outside the shed that sheltered me, and the driver killed the engine. Standing at the ready, I braced for who would enter. As much as I wished it would be Jade, from her dreams, I knew she wouldn’t come here anymore, having decided to force herself to move on.

  The door opened on the broad silhouette of a man. The brightness of early morning light flooding into the windowless shack blinded me. I hadn’t realize just how dark it had been in here. I blinked, trying to make out the face of the intruder.

  Or was it of the owner?

  “Welcome back, Mistwalker,” said a familiar, deep voice.

  “Agent Thomson!” I whispered.

  “You certainly took your time coming back to your woman,” he said, in a slightly chastising tone.

  I gaped at him, speechless.

  He smiled then lifted the heavy bag in his hand, showing it to me. “Well, I guess you won’t need this, after all. Someone already took care of you,” he said, giving my outfit a meaningful glance.

  “You knew,” I said, my voice throaty for lack of use.

  “Energy surge, remember?” he said with a teasing tone. He gave me a once over, an approving glimmer in his eyes. “Body upgrade? Smart decision.”

  Looking down at myself, my face heated slightly.

  “Some might consider it a downgrade,” I said, having chosen a different body this time, a little shorter and less massive.

  “But more normal, although still on the tall and muscular side,” the agent said. “The slight facial changes will also make our lives easier.”

  Coming closer, Agent Thomson emptied the contents of his bag into the suitcase, leaving warm clothes, a coat, and a pair of boots.

  “You might as well put the money and phone back in there,” the agent said, “you won’t need them.” He smiled at my worried but curious look. “I’m taking you home to your woman.”

  Emotion threatened to overwhelm me again. Before finding the disposable phone, I had dreaded the long walk back to civilization in the snow and cold winds. After finding it, I had planned on calling Monica, hoping she would believe it was me, to ask her to pick me up. Not knowing how Jade would react, I didn’t want to unnecessarily traumatize her.

  “Thank you, Agent Thomson,” I said with sincere gratitude.

  “Alfred. Call me Alfred, Fred, or Al,” the agent said, his laugh lines crinkling. “This isn’t Fourth Division business. Just don’t mention to anyone that I’ve used their systems to find you.” Worry must have shown in my face, making his smile broaden. “Relax, son, I’ve deleted the record of your energy surge from our systems.”

  My shoulders sagged with relief.

  “Thank you, Al,” I said with a sheepish smile. “You can call me Kazan.”

  “No,” Alfred said, in a tone that brooked no argument. “Kazan Dale died four months ago from a tragic landslide while he drove through a hilly countryside. Hundreds of people mourned his death and attended his funeral.”

  Pulling a small wallet from his pocket, he tossed it towards me. I caught it and flipped it open to find a couple of ID cards, including social security and birth certification cards.

  “You are now Kyle Winters.” Chuckling at my dismay, he gestured towards the door with his head. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

  I followed in his wake, eager to be reunited with my mate. Despite the warm coat, the cold, early morning air nipped at me during the short walk to the car. Looking at the long, deserted road ahead, it became clear to me that I never would have made it. Thomson fired the engine as I buckled my seatbelt. No doubt sensing my heavy stare on him, he turned to give me a quizzical look.

  “I don’t know why you are doing this, but from the bottom of my heart, I thank you,” I said, not knowing how else to express the depth of my gratitude.

  The older man’s expression softened. For the first time, I experienced what I believed a father’s indulgent gaze upon his son would feel like. Al didn’t answer right away. Instead, he picked up a tall, insulated cup from the cup holder in the car and extended it to me.

  “Chicken broth,” Al said. “Should still be hot, so be careful not to burn yourself.”

  I gladly acce
pted the offering, welcoming the warmth of the container between my fingers.

  “There are a couple of BLT sandwiches in that bag,” he added, indicating with his chin a brown bag in the console between our seats. “I heard they were your favorite,” he added at my surprised expression.

  Silence stretched for a moment as he turned onto the main road. I didn’t press him, sensing he needed time to decide how to answer my implied question.

  “I have a daughter, Giselle. She’s about the same age as Ms. Eastwood,” Al said in a conversational tone, his eyes on the road. “Since her teenage years, she’s been an endless source of worry. She was a good girl but the biggest magnet for bad men. My baby would go from one abusive relationship to the next, one of which almost killed her.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said.

  Al shrugged. “Don’t be. It wasn’t your fault, but mine for not seeing how bad things had gotten for her. She’d come to my house for an early dinner, distressed that her ex had died in prison in some brawl with another inmate. That night changed everything. She left in time to make it home before the sirens went off. I’d just locked down my house for the Mist and went to my office to work on a new miniature airplane, as is my routine during those three days.” His face tensed, and his jaw clenched as he reminisced. “I found Giselle’s suicide note on my desk, begging for my forgiveness, but that she couldn’t take the pain anymore.”

  My chest tightened for him, already guessing where this was headed.

  “With the Mist having already come up, I couldn’t get to Giselle’s place. I called, and she didn’t answer. It crushed me. My wife died years ago from breast cancer. My little girl was all I had left. But then, two hours later, she called me saying a Mistwalker outside her house had forced her to go back inside because it wasn’t safe.”

  My heart warmed. “Her Wish,” I said.