by S. M. Welles
She’d reached to cover her ears but dropped her hands. “Please!” she begged. “Don’t kill me!” She felt lightheaded and started to slump in a faint, but her captor’s strong grip caught her arm. She heard a shuffling sound from behind, and feared an accomplice joining in on the catch.
Without letting go, her captor pulled her behind him and brandished his weapon in the direction of the shuffling. Roxie peered around his shoulder, level with her nose, and saw an aged man fidgeting under a tattered blanket. The hobo regarded both of them with a fearful expression. He raised his blanket to his chin and scrunched lower against the brick building. Roxie regarded her captor with equal fear, who then turned his head to check the intersection behind them. She noticed his eyes. They were glowing red.
His eyes glow too! She stared at them, unable to believe what she was seeing.
The big man released Roxie’s arm. “I’m not going to kill you,” he said in a voice that for some reason made Roxie feel safer. He secured his dagger in its sheath. “Is your arm all r—?” After taking a step back, he stood very still with his arms at his sides, and mouth barely open. He openly studied Roxie’s face.
Roxie gazed at the man’s face and watched his eyes lose their glow, just like she’d seen her own do countless times in the mirror. The first time she had seen her eyes glow was at age five, during a frightening thunderstorm. Her shocked grandmother had carted her to the bathroom to show Roxie her eyes. Young Roxie had blamed the glowing on the storm, despite what Grandma had said. Later on she learned the glow was linked to her emotions.
“Yeah, my eyes glow, too,” Roxie said. “Yours weren’t a trick of the street light or something, were they?” She sorely hoped not.
“No, mine work just like yours. Is your arm alright?”
Just like yours. This time Roxie’s mouth fell ajar. “No way!” She looked into the man’s deep blue eyes. “All this time... I’ve never seen... Man, I wish you could show me again. You don’t have any control over it either, do you?”
He shook his head. “It’s caused me problems sometimes,” he said with a rueful grin.
“Boy do I know that feeling.” Roxie had resorted to home schooling through eighth grade in order to spare herself, her peers and teachers, and Grandma a lot of awkward grief. She studied the stranger with the aid of a dim streetlight. The man was a half a head taller than she, bore a clean-shaven face and scalp, and had broad shoulders and lots of muscle. He wore a T-shirt, cargo pants and combat boots, all black, and he had a backpack and canteen slung over one shoulder. His belongings, along with the small sheath strapped to one arm, gave her the distinct impression that he wasn’t from her part of the world. But that didn’t matter. They were two of the same… something. “Are we aliens?”
“Pardon?”
“Aliens. You know: people from another planet.” As soon as Roxie said it, she realized how absurd she sounded. She felt her cheeks flush.
The man let out a soft laugh and shook his head. “No. We’re Aigis.”
“But you’re an alien, right?”
“No; just an Aigis.”
“Are you from Earth?”
“No.”
“Then that makes you an alien. What planet are you from? And why do you speak just like I do?”
The man laughed again. “I’ve learned how to quickly adapt to contemporary dialects. What’s your name?” Then, eyes widening as if he’d just remembered something, he took off his pack and laid it on the ground. He unzipped the side and started rummaging around.
“Rox, sir,” she replied. “And yours?”
“Aerigo.”
Interesting name. “What’s ‘Aigis’ mean?”
“Shield of the gods.”
Roxie stood dumbfounded, unsure how to interpret that information. “What’s that mean?”
“A lot of things. I’ve been looking for you for the past two weeks. I need your help.”
“Why?”
“I was instructed to find you and train you.”
“Really? By whom?”
“Someone named Baku. He’s our ally.”
“Bah-coo?”
“Correct.” Aerigo stood and turned to face Roxie, a glass bottle in his hand.
Eyeing the bottle, Roxie began to ask about what she needed to train for, but she cut herself off and instead said, “Wait! Two weeks?” That’s how long the pull in her mind had been bothering her. How much of a coincidence could it be if Aerigo had been looking for her just as long?
“Yes.”
“From which direction?” This was one of those dumb questions, but Roxie just had to know.
Aerigo glanced at the night sky. “Judging by your sun, I came from a generally eastern direction. I crossed an ocean people called ‘the Atlantic,’ or ‘el Atlantico.’”
Roxie then realized the mental pull was gone. Instead there was a sense of completion—not to mention relief. However, she took a couple of steps along the sidewalk, turned around, then braced herself as she walked back.
Nothing. She was free to walk wherever she wanted.
Aerigo looked at Roxie expectantly.
“For the past two weeks I’ve had this strange need to travel east. No clue why. And now that I’ve met you, it’s gone.”
Aerigo’s face brightened with recognition. “You were subconsciously guiding me to your location.”
Roxie gave him an unconvinced stare.
“It’s called magic,” he said. “Although—”
“Magic’s real?” Part of Roxie had often wanted magic to be real so she could magic her eyes into glowing and fading on command. Of course this never worked.
Aerigo gave the young woman a faint smile as he put the glass bottle on the ground and reached for his canteen. He unscrewed the cap and cupped his free hand, ready to catch the water as he upended the canteen. The water fell as Roxie expected, but as soon as it almost touched Aerigo’s palm it began to collect as if it had fallen into an invisible bowl.
Roxie’s eyes widened as Aerigo began to mold the liquid into the likeness of a rose. He let go of his canteen and held his other hand over the reshaping globe of water, slowly moving it up and down like a musical conductor measuring out beats. The water rose splayed over his cupped hand, and the petals shimmered like pool water in the middle of the afternoon. Roxie raised a finger, but restrained herself from touching it.
“Go ahead,” Aerigo said gently, letting his free hand relax. “It’s just water.”
Roxie reached for the nearest petal, which was as big as a half dollar, and tapped its fringe. She looked at her fingertip and saw a drop of water on it. She dipped a forefinger into the water rose and took it out again, noticing that the inside of the rose felt like a bubbling Jacuzzi. Again her finger remained unharmed. “Weird.”
Aerigo reached for his canteen as he turned the rose upside down, which began to dismember itself one petal at a time. Each piece congealed into a large drop and returned to the canteen. The big man screwed the cap back on. “Your turn.” He picked up the glass bottle and held it out to her. “Drink this.”
Roxie reached for the bottle, then stopped herself. “What is it?” She stared at the pale liquid. Even though she felt kindred toward Aerigo and his glowing eyes, she couldn’t ignore being trained to avoid accepting gifts from strangers.
Aerigo looked at the bottle. “Being able to do magic is supposed to be normal for you.”
“And that drink will make me normal?” It was more a statement than a question.
“Essentially, yes.”
Roxie bit her lower lip, folded her arms and stared at the bottle. For some reason the thought of drinking it frightened her. It would change the life she was familiar with, as lonely as it had sometimes been. Already things weren’t the same because she’d met Aerigo, but she was still herself. On the other hand, being able to do magic would be the coolest thing in the world.
Roxie accepted the bottle, unscrewed the cap and sniffed its contents. It was odorless. Well that
’s a help. She summoned her courage, closed her eyes, took a sip and swallowed. The liquid tasted mostly like water, slightly sweetened with the hint of a sports drink flavor. She licked her lips, enjoying the sweetness, then began downing the rest of the bottle with the zeal of a person who hadn’t a drop of liquid in days.
She managed to swallow half the contents before a loud crash from somewhere nearby startled them both. “What was that?” she whispered, the bottle still to her lips.
“I’m not sure,” Aerigo whispered back. “Go home and finish the bottle there. Make sure you drink all of it.” He picked up his belongings, then pulled out his dagger and faced Roxie. “I’ll find you in the morning. Just stay home and don’t wander off.” He headed towards the darkest part of the street.
“You don’t even know where I live!” Roxie said as loud as she dared.
Aerigo turned around and sent her a glare punctuated with smoldering red eyes.
Unable to disobey that signal, Roxie hastily capped the bottle and turned to leave, but a sly voice alarmed her and caused her to whirl around.
“Don’t leave just yet.” The man belonging to the voice stepped into the light of the street lamp and stopped in front of Aerigo, smiling at him. “Tell me, Aerigo, who’s your new girlfriend?”
Now would be a great time to start running home, as Roxie had been instructed. However, the tone of that man’s sly voice made her more curious than afraid. She looked to Aerigo for an answer. His muscular arms were corded with tension, eyes burning a molten red. Roxie kept quiet.
This second person looked like he had been swallowed by a shark and spit back out again—twice. A starchy material, covered in dirt and ripped in many places, was all that was left of his jeans and flannel shirt, and his reek stung Roxie’s nose from fifteen feet away. His short black hair was spiked forward, his dark eyes appeared sunken from fatigue, yet his gaze was charged with...what? Triumph? Whatever it was, Roxie didn’t like how this lean-muscled newcomer stared.
“None of your business, Daio,” Aerigo said, and raised his dagger slightly.
“Ah.” Daio was sneering now. “So she’s the one Baku has sent his mighty warrior to protect. Nexus will be most pleased to learn this.”
“What does Nexus want with the girl?”
“I don’t know,” Daio said irritably. “What does Baku want with the girl? She doesn’t seem particularly special. However, since you’re making a big deal, there’s got to be more to her than what I sensed.”
One moment Daio was standing feet away from Aerigo, and the next thing Roxie saw was Daio right in front of her, wearing his malicious grin. He grabbed the sleeve of her t-shirt and yanked on it, ripping the shirt to the other shoulder and down the side. Roxie threw a fist, but Daio swatted it away as if he were expecting it, and the parry stung as if a block of iron had struck her arm.
“Your eyes do glow!” Daio said happily. “You’re one of our kind.” He bent his knees and kicked one leg backward, catching Aerigo in the stomach.
“Rox, go home now!” Aerigo yelled in a tight voice as he clutched his stomach. Sucking in a breath, he lunged for Daio with his dagger, but only succeeded in driving him away from Roxie and into the street. Aerigo positioned himself in front of Roxie and faced the street.
Roxie started backing into an alley on shaky legs, and with her arms clamping her tattered shirt to her chest. She wanted to run, but feared putting her back to Daio, who had one arm stretched toward the middle of the street, as if he were reaching for something.
“Catch up with you later, kid.” Daio lost his grin, and looked at his hand. “Well that’s no fair.”
Aerigo took the tip of his dagger between his thumb and forefinger and, with a grunt, launched his weapon. Daio ducked out of its trajectory. The blade clanged against a brick building and hit the ground.
“I don’t know what kind of threat you think the girl could possibly pose,” Daio taunted, fists raised and smiling once again. “She has so little time to prepare.”
“She’s none of your concern.” Aerigo raised both fists as well.
“What a stupid thing to say,” Daio said, sounding bored. “But in all seriousness, she does have you for a teacher...”
Why is some creepy guy interested in me, and what am I supposed to be taught? Does this guy think I’m some sort of secret weapon? It seemed frighteningly plausible. Before Roxie could ponder the situation further, Daio was a couple of feet away from her again, but this time with one of Aerigo’s arms clamped around his neck. Daio grasped for his neck with both hands as Aerigo forced him into the street. Roxie stood there watching with the same morbid fascination of seeing a fight break out in a school hallway.
Both men struggled to push or trip the other off balance. Finally, Aerigo swiped one of Daio’s legs out with one of his own. As they teetered, Daio jerked his torso toward the ground, causing them both to corkscrew midair. Aerigo hit the ground on his back with a ground-vibrating thud. Daio started elbowing Aerigo in his ribs and Roxie winced. Aerigo freed an arm and punched Daio in the head so hard he slid off him and onto the pavement. The impact sounded like the dull crack of a ball hitting a bat. Aerigo popped to one knee, cocked a fist, then stopped. Daio lay unmoving, his arms spread like a scarecrow. Aerigo glanced at Roxie, then got to his feet, draped Daio over one shoulder and headed over to Roxie. Neither man bore any cuts or bruises.
“Did he hurt you?” Aerigo asked.
Considering the fact that the only part of her that had sustained any injuries was her shirt, Roxie said, “No. Is he dead?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
Aerigo looked at her a moment, then said, “It’s a long, complicated answer. Stay there. I’ll be right back.” He solemnly walked past Roxie down the alley, and into darkness.
The death question seemed half fair, half harsh. Daio was a threat, yet he hadn’t tried to harm her on the first chance he had; he just ripped a perfectly good shirt. After that, he’d seemed ready to leave, but for some odd reason didn’t. What had he been planning to do to her if Aerigo hadn’t protected her? All possible answers made Roxie feel sick to her stomach.
Footsteps steadily approached. Roxie turned around. Aerigo paused before her, frowning, then retrieved his pack from the sidewalk. He returned to Roxie’s side, setting the pack on the ground as he unzipped it, and produced a white rolled-up shirt from the main pocket. He sniffed it quickly, then handed it to Roxie.
“Here.”
Roxie mumbled her thanks as she accepted the shirt, then sniffed it as well. “Pine trees.”
“I’ve been sleeping outside the last few days.”
Aerigo stood and rounded the corner of the building and out of sight. Roxie scanned the intersection, along with the dark alley behind her. Seeing no one, she shrugged out of her ruined shirt, and into the pine-fresh one. Sheesh, I’ve known him a whole five minutes and I’m already wearing his clothes. This better not be the start of a trend. Aerigo’s shirt was huge on her; it stopped just below her fingertips when she held her arms to her sides. Roxie was tall for a girl—five-nine—but the shirt was so long and baggy on her it reminded her of when she was small enough to use her grandma’s shirts as pajamas.
Roxie balled up her ripped shirt, figuring she’d throw it away in the nearest garbage, then picked up the half-full glass bottle. She peeked around the corner to find Aerigo leaning against the pawnshop’s glass window. He looked up at her, his expression pensive.
“Now what?” Roxie asked.
“Take you home to get some rest.” Aerigo drew closer and collected his pack. “But let me get my dagger first.”
Oh, this is going to be fun. Roxie was not looking forward to explaining to Grandma everything that just happened.
Chapter 2
Energy Shift
Roxie discarded her ripped shirt in one of the many garbage cans lining Buffalo’s broad sidewalks, and wordlessly guided Aerigo out of the city. Aerigo didn’t seem in the mood for conversation;
his eyes followed the ground, his footsteps silent and measured like a martial artist’s. Roxie wondered if he was anticipating someone else to attack her or both of them, but her thoughts were too preoccupied by a far more pressing matter: how to explain to Grandma everything that’d just happened.
Roxie wanted to hide behind Aerigo and let him explain everything, but she knew Grandma would look down on her for such cowardice. Roxie didn’t want that. She wanted to be a respectable almost-adult, and to be trusted. She wasn’t earning any brownie points right now, but at least she was returning home in one piece—minus her T-shirt.
The trek through the Buffalo leg of their journey should have taken twenty minutes, but it felt like no more than five. Roxie’s eyes found the end of every block they traversed, each curb fueling her mounting anxiety.
She found herself wanting to walk slower by the time they reached the forest dividing her home from the city limits. The bed of fallen pinecones and needles felt like a springboard beneath her sneakers. If anything, their pace quickened as a chorus of tree frogs and crickets chirped away on either side of the path.
Introducing Aerigo didn’t seem like that big of a deal. Sure, the time of night was awkward, but Roxie hoped the fact that his eyes could glow like hers would smooth things over. But every time Roxie tried to think of how to explain why she was wearing one of Aerigo’s shirts, the truth sounded absurd, and any lies carried all the wrong implications.
The trip across the back yard seemed way too fast. Then the five porch steps were behind them and the screen door awaited their entry. Light from the living room window to the left seeped through closed curtains. Roxie stared at the handle, her mind blank.
“What’s wrong?” Aerigo asked.
“What the heck do I tell my grandmother?” Roxie said, wringing the fringe of her borrowed shirt between her fingers.
“Just tell her the truth.”
“I know but—” Roxie tried to think of the best way to word her thoughts. “I don’t want her to worry about me or be scared, or think I’m irresponsible. She didn’t want me roving around this late at night in the first place. Meeting you and that other guy is the last thing I want to tell her about.” I don’t want another lecture.