Semblance

by Logan Patricks

  I dropped to my knees and watched in horror as the demon-faced henchmen doused my best friend in gasoline. The way Justin was writhing and screaming was agonizing to watch. I wanted to save him but all I could do was drop to my knees and beg Justin to forgive me for getting him killed.

  From afar I heard Shadow shouting, but his words faded into the background. All I heard was the splashing of gasoline and Justin’s muffled screams.

  “I’m sorry, oh God, I’m so sorry.”

  Sinister laughed at me. “You must be mistaken girl. God’s not here right now. There is me however and my cigarette lighter.” The pad of his thumb flicked the metallic lighter, sparking a flame.

  I tried to lunge for the lighter but I was too slow and it found its way to Justin’s pyre. Both the kindle on the ground and Justin erupted into a blanket of flames.

  My screams were hysterical and echoed throughout the auditorium while my insides turned into liquid. The sickness in my stomach started off as nausea but by the time it reached the back of my throat, it tasted like poison.

  “Turn away Aria, turn away,” I heard Shadow calling from behind me. “Don’t look at Justin.”

  I didn’t. My eyes were focused on Sinister instead and I stared at the man with such a hatred that could make even the Devil quiver.

  Eventually Justin’s screams stopped. He was gone.

  “When you are ready, you’ll be taken to see Calisto,” Sinister said, taking his leave. The crowd in the auditorium began to disperse as well. I wished for every person who took pleasure in watching Justin die to suffer.

  I wanted to kill them all.

  I felt Shadow’s warm touch as he lifted me off the ground and held me.

  “I’m so sorry,” I heard him whisper.

  I should have been crying but I had no more tears left in me. I was all cried out.

  So instead of sadness, I felt hate.

  “I know how you feel now Shadow,” I whispered. “I know why revenge is so important to you.”

  Shadow shook his head. “Don’t end up like me. I am flawed and I am miserable. Let me obsess about revenge for the two of us.”

  “We’ll get him, won’t we?” I asked.

  “I’ll kill him,” Shadow replied. “I promise you.”

  The heavy footsteps of Sinister’s guards surrounded us. “Come on, let’s go,” one of them said.

  “Go to hell,” I cursed.

  “No thanks,” he replied as he jammed his gun into the back of Shadow’s head. “Now if we’re done slinging meaningless insults, I believe there’s a whore you both wanted to see.”

  As we left the stage, my eyes gravitated towards Justin’s body. I could only wonder what explanation would be given to his family about his horrific death. He always spoke fondly of his parents and his sister, but because of me they’ll never see him again.

  The doors to the auditorium closed behind us and with it I was leaving behind my dreams of performing. After enduring that nightmare, how could I ever think about touching a piano again?

  Today, my desire to play music died along with my best friend.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “Four,” Shadow muttered underneath his breath before shaking his head. “Fuck.”

  For a moment his eyes flashed to the direction of one of the demon-faced guards in front of us. It took me only a second to realize what he was getting at.

  Shadow was contemplating taking out the four guards, escorting us, on his own and without a gun.

  It was suicide.

  But then again, so was walking into whatever game they had in store for us next. After watching Justin burn, I realized there was very little hope for us to get out of this alive. Sinister was cruel and a liar and at this point, there was no reason not to think that Lincoln was dead as well.

  I wanted to scream.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” one of the guards said to Shadow. “You’re thinking about taking us out.”

  I froze in my tracks. How did he know?

  “The odds are against you,” he continued, “But then again, I’ve always been one to play the odds. The question for you Shadow is, are you a risk taker like myself?”

  “Hey, we’re not paid to talk,” another one of the demon-faced thugs said, turning his attention to the yapper.

  “I’m just trying to create some dialogue, unlike you, you anti-social conversation Nazi.”

  “What the fuck is the problem here?” another one of the masked men asked. “Can we please all just shut up, get them to the helipad already so we can finish the job? I want to get paid and go home.”

  “Why can’t we be friends?” the talkative one asked.

  “Just shut the fuck up,” the first guard said, his patience worn thin. “Please, just shut the fuck up.”

  “You shut up,” the yapper said. In a moment of complete surrealism, I watched as the chatty guard raised his gun and blew apart the thug next to him with a round of bullets to the chest.

  I dropped to the ground, hands over my head, and watched as Shadow tackled another guard to the ground, trying to wrestle the gun out of his hands.

  “Lincoln, there’s one more,” Shadow cried out as he continued to struggle with the guard beneath him.

  Lincoln?

  The yappy guard immediately turned to the last demon-faced man standing and pulled the trigger, spraying the walls with red matter.

  Lincoln wiped the makeup off his face with the back of his sleeve and nodded at me.

  Meanwhile Shadow managed to tear the gun out of his adversary’s hands after delivering a crushing fist into the man’s throat. It took only one bullet to end the fight for good.

  “I thought I ordered you to leave here,” Shadow said, wiping the sweat off his brow.

  “You honestly thought I’d listen to you?”

  “Nope.”

  “And did you expect anything less from me?” Lincoln asked, looking at the bodies of Sinister’s men on the ground.

  “Of course not,” Shadow replied, patting Lincoln on the back. “Come on, let’s go save my sister.”

  It had stopped raining but the night air harbored a chill. Calisto stood at the center of the helicopter landing pad, hands bound behind her back. She must have been freezing in the white evening gown, her shoulders and legs bare.

  The large torches that aligned the circumference of the helipad didn’t seem to provide much warmth for her, though it did succeed in creating a creepy atmosphere.

  Calisto tried to shout something at us, but the gag covering the lower half of her face muffled her. Instead, all I could hear was a desperate scream.

  Shadow’s first instinct was to run to her, but after no more than three steps, Sinister stood behind Calisto and pressed a knife against her bare neck.

  “One more step and I end her life,” he said.

  “Move a fucking muscle and I put a hole in your head,” Lincoln threatened, his gun aimed at the bastard. “If I see so much as a drop of blood spill from Calisto, you’re finished.”

  “I give you credit for being such a sneaky bastard,” Sinister said, “But you lose points for being an impatient little shit. In fact, I’m disappointed in all of you. You’d think to examine your surroundings before rushing head first into an obvious trap.”

  “Put down your gun,” a voice echoed from above us.

  A high powered rifle was pointed in our direction, held by the fucker who had murdered Abraham.

  The sight of the White Crow made my blood boil. I could still feel Abraham’s lifeless body in my arms, a phantom memory that will haunt me forever.

  “Fucking coward,” Lincoln shouted. “Come down here and fight like you have balls.”

  The White Crow laughed as he directed the red dot from his rifle onto the centre of Lincoln’s forehead.

  “Crows like to be perched up high,” the assassin replied. “I’m sure the guys down on the ground would be happy to accommodate your request.”

  From out of the shadows, two mor
e demon-faced men emerged, guns in hand. I could see the look of anger and disappointment on Shadow’s face. He gave Lincoln a glance that said, we fucked up.

  “The fault isn’t yours,” Sinister said. “It’s human nature to allow emotions to overcome logic and reasoning. That is why you fail and I succeed.”

  “What are you then?” Shadow asked, “An emotionless psychopath?”

  “I gave up on relationships long ago,” Sinister said. “It was the only way to get ahead in life, the true way to obtain power. Once you start caring for someone, you allow yourself a weakness.” He grabbed a handful of Calisto’s hair and pulled her head back, exposing the pale flesh of her neck and pressed the edge of the knife against her throat. “This stupid bitch over here is one of yours Shadow.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Shadow warned.

  “Oh hush now,” Sinister said. “Don’t you see? I’m trying to free you of one of your weaknesses. You were destined to do great things Shadow, but you allowed your human frailty to control you. You had the genius of Julius Caesar and the ambition of Napolean, yet you sadly wasted most of your time trying to avenge the death of your parents; countless hours wasted searching for me.”

  “Who are you?” Shadow asked.

  “All shall be revealed soon enough,” Sinister said, “But the game comes first.”

  “No, I’m done with your games.”

  “Then you’re done with your sister’s life.” Sinister pushed the blade deeper into Calisto’s neck until her skin broke and red began trickling down her throat.

  “You’ll kill her anyways,” Shadow said. “All your games are rigged.”

  “That’s not true,” Sinister replied. “Lincoln was freed after winning my game.”

  “I don’t feel free,” Lincoln said, gesturing to the two guards who had their guns fixated on us.

  “You can only blame yourself. Instead of walking through the open door, you decided to kill my men and play dress up, which I had already anticipated.” The blade of the knife moved half and inch across Calisto’s throat and she let out a muffled scream underneath the gag.

  “Are you ready to play yet?” Sinister asked.

  Neither Shadow nor Lincoln responded.

  “Good,” he said. One of the guards walked over to us brandishing a large bowie knife. He dropped it at Shadow’s feet.

  “The game is fairly simple,” Sinister continued. “I will count to three and you will either stab your girlfriend in the heart or I’ll kill your sister.”

  Shadow stared at the knife on the ground.

  “I don’t have to repeat the rules now, do I?” Sinister asked.

  “You can’t expect me to do that,” Shadow said.

  “Sure I can. It’s a simple choice. Choose who will live—Calisto or the Golden Virgin. You have until the count of three.”

  Shadow ignored the knife on the ground. “No,” he cried out. “I will not make this choice.”

  “Three seconds,” the cloaked man said. “Pick up the knife and choose a life. There is no negotiation.”

  Shadow’s weary eyes turned to me and I saw the helpless expression on his face. I knew what decision he needed to make, and I couldn’t blame him. Calisto was family after all—his twin. There was a bond that they shared that was far deeper than our love which had just blossomed.

  “One,” Sinister shouted from the helipad.

  I turned to Lincoln, who was frozen in place. “Shadow…” he began while staring at Calisto longingly.

  “I love you” I said to Shadow just before closing my eyes.

  I thought of my dad holding me tightly as a child when I was most scared. He always made me feel safe.

  “Two,” I heard Sinister shout from the distance.

  I let out a deep breath and waited for Shadow’s knife to enter me. I couldn’t help but think about the kid I had murdered in Calisto’s apartment. Not only did I feel remorse for what I done but fear also. If there was a hell, I had punched myself a one way ticket and the kid was probably waiting for me down there along with the Black Crow.

  I would never see my dad again nor Justin who I needed to apologize to.

  Suddenly I heard both Shadow and Lincoln scream.

  I opened my eyes in time to see the knife protruding from Calisto’s heart, a trickle of blood painting a thin red line down Calisto’s white gown.

  “Fuck it,” Sinister said. “You took too long. I made the decision for you.”

  I looked at Shadow, who was gripping the bowie knife in his hands, pointing it in my direction.

  “You fucker!” Lincoln cried.

  “You disappoint me Shadow,” Sinister said. “I thought this was an easy choice. Instead you had to think about saving the whore while your own blood’s life was in jeopardy. Hasn’t anyone ever taught you that family comes first? In the end, it was you who stabbed her in the heart.”

  There was a blank, catatonic look on Shadow’s face as the knife fell from his hands and onto the ground. I ran to Shadow and held him.

  “I’m so sorry,” I whispered as I held him tightly.

  “You surprise me Aria,” Sinister said. “I thought you’d be pissed that given one more second, Shadow was going to kill you.”

  “None of us know that,” I shouted. “You never gave him a choice.”

  “Of course I did,” Sinister said. “He just took too long to make it.”

  “You promised him three seconds,” Lincoln shouted.

  “He shouldn’t have needed three seconds. Hell if it were me, I would have stabbed the Golden Virgin in a heartbeat. No one in this world is worth the life of my own blood.”

  I looked at Shadow who was visibly shaking. I wanted to say something to him, but there was no combination of words in existence that could make this right. Instead I held onto him.

  From the distance, the sounds of a helicopter approaching signaled the end of Sinister’s games. He was going to escape cleanly with the blood of the Midnight Society on his hands. In one single night, he had destroyed the organization.

  “The game is done,” Sinister said. “I’m tired. Let’s call it an evening.”

  His words cued the demon-faced guards to pull the trigger on the guns that were pointed at us.

  I blinked hard, anticipating a round of bullets to rip us all to shreds. However there was no barrage of gunfire—only an empty click.

  “What the hell?” one of the guards cursed.

  “Do it the old fashioned way you lazy shits,” Sinister cried out. “And entertain me. You goons are unworthy of any more of my bullets.”

  Lincoln was quick to react and lunged for the knife that Shadow had dropped to the ground.

  Shadow, still in shock over Calisto’s death, remained unmoved.

  “You have to help Lincoln—” I began shouting, but was suddenly blindsided by a muscular arm wrapping itself around my neck, choking the life out of me.

  “My employer promised me your head,” the White Crow whispered into my ear, his breath emitting a foul stench of tobacco and vodka. “I hope my brother has a front row seat in hell as he watches me tear you apart.”

  Tears stung my eyes as I watched Shadow spring to his feet, reaching out for me. I extended my arm to him as well and for a brief second, our fingertips touched, but the contact was short lived.

  I abruptly felt myself plummeting over the edge of the building, the White Crow’s arms still wrapped around my body.

  Did this man hate me that much that he was willing to dive headfirst into the mouth of hell just so he could drag me down there with him?

  I closed my eyes—and without screaming—waited for darkness to come.

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  I hit the ground quicker than I had expected, and it hurt like a bitch. I was winded and struggled to gasp for air.

  Air—I could still breathe, which meant I wasn’t dead.

  Yet.

  I opened my eyes and saw the large rifle pointed at my face. I was still groggy from the fall
but I managed to piece together what had happened.

  The White Crow had grabbed me and jumped off the edge, landing one level below. I had crashed onto the balcony of the unfinished penthouse suites.

  “Now that I have you alone, I believe we can have a chat,” the White Crow grinned, “About how you killed my brother and how I’m going to put you down like the miserable bitch you are.”

  I stared at the White Crow with a venomous gaze.

  “You murdered Abraham,” I seethed. “You killed him in front of me.”

  “That old shit needed to go,” the White Crow replied. “Be happy it was quick. He deserved to suffer much more than he did.”

  He walked over to me and licked his lips with his long slug-like tongue. “You however…”

  I found myself taking a few steps back. The rifle was focused on me like a homing beacon. It was only a matter time before he pulled the trigger.

  I was deer thrown into the den of a lion.

  This brought me to now. I was a lonely girl with the shattered dreams of being a musician.

  Two people that I cared for were dead because of me—one of them six feet under and the other a pile of ash and bone. It only made sense that I was next to die.

  It seemed foolish to think that only three weeks ago, my biggest worry in life was scrounging enough money to have a hot meal. Now, my fears included assassins, serial killers, hit squads, and the devil that waited for me in the afterlife.

  The White Crow was still waiting for my decision—die by a bullet or take the plunge fifty-stories down. Both were equally unappealing.

  “Make a decision girl,” the White Crow said. “Be happy I’m giving you a choice.”

  “You expect me to thank you for that?” I asked; bitterness stitched into my words.

  “I don’t have time for this,” the White Crow said. “If you don’t make a decision on how you’re going to die, then I’ll make one for you. I’m starting to lean towards senseless and uncontrolled bludgeoning.”