Fighting Midnight: Ankarrah Chronicles Book Two: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy

by J. D. Dexter

  I roll my eyes—well, the best I can without actual eyes. This chick is seriously delusional if she thinks she won’t be absorbed by Anixia as well.

  “Yes, Lazara. You will be in your true form with me.”

  “What is an Ankarrahi’s true form, again?” I ask, oozing innocence.

  I feel a tug on my shield. Huddling closer into myself, I go as still as possible. Not even thinking too hard.

  In another part of my mind, I hear Anixia talking again.

  The tug turns into a tapping sensation. I’d recognize that imperious tapping anywhere. I open the smallest door possible, so small even a quantum fart would struggle to get through it.

  “Brock?”

  “Yes, Baby-Fin. I’ve come to rescue you.”

  “I’m kinda in the middle of something. Come back later.” I move to shut the door.

  “You are not equipped to fight on the Matrix yet, Finley.”

  “Then tell me what to do. Hurry!”

  “First, you do not need to be so small. You are more than capable of shielding yourself in your regular size,” he says, his voice bored. “Second, you are a Creative. Force your adira to do what you want it to do. Hiding does not suit you, and makes me as an instructor look poorly to my friends. Butch up, Baby-Fin.” If I’d still had a physical body, I would have gotten a hardy slap on the back. I roll my eyes at him.

  “Thanks for the pep talk, jerk. Now go. I’ll get back to you guys when I can.”

  “Remember, do not step a physical foot on Ankarrah. That will set off a chain of cataclysmic events.”

  “Yup, death and destruction. Check.” I push him through the miniscule door, bolting it shut behind him. Then I plaster that sucker tight with more titanium and nanites just to be sure.

  Calming my mind, I focus on my adira. The energy mass that looks like galactic nebulas is still one of my favorite things to look at. The colors, sparks, and flares boggle my mind with their beauty.

  I tug on a section of my adira. It feels like saltwater taffy after it’s settled. Faintly sticky with a curious bouncy texture and substance. I pull it up and mentally shape it into a needle-thin spear.

  “Find Lazara, take her out,” I whisper to it.

  I feel a bit like an idiot, but I see Kez and Brock whispering under their breath when they use their adira. I have no idea what they say, but I figure this will have to work for me.

  I force it through my barriers, keeping a light hold of the end. As if it carries a piece of my mind, I can feel it flying through the Matrix, searching and seeking. Like a heat-guided missile, it finds its target and sinks into the heart of her energy mass.

  “Mother…”

  “Do not interrupt me, Lazara. You know how much I hate that.”

  “She’s attacking me!”

  I expand my adira, shuttling outwards in a blast of power and force. Focusing the adira, I look out through my shield.

  A dense, starry night fills my vision. Two bright spots are within touching distance. Lazara’s hazy human form looks exactly like she did on the plane. Inside her physical form, her adira swirls with the oranges and yellows of late fall. A center of throbbing purple radiates out in ever-widening ripples.

  Anixia looks like an old woman trapped in the body of a little girl. The energyscape of her adira is a pulsating miasma of blacks, yellows, and reds. While her physical form on the Matrix looks like a porcelain-skinned tween, her soul is ancient and dark.

  “Then fight back.” Anixia keeps searching the dark expanse.

  Blasts of sparks fire off in the opposite direction of where I’m standing. Or is it floating?

  I shake my head. I quickly look to see if my adira needle can be seen.

  I fist pump the air. Suck it, sister! I’m a freaking ninja!

  Getting myself back under control, I get back into the conversation Brock pulled me out of to help me.

  “So I missed the discussion of an Ankarrahi’s true form. What did you all decide on that?” I clear my throat, continuing before they can answer. “Here’re my thoughts. If Ankarrahi young are formed by adira, and the physical body of an Ankarrahi can be shaped by thought, then an Ankarrahi’s true form is simply the energy mass of the adira.”

  A low growl comes from the child’s body not five steps away. Her black hair lifts and twists in a non-existent breeze. She taps her foot, leaving flares of bright light each time it makes contact with the ground.

  Lazara is slapping and poking at her torso. Through my adira-altered vision, I can see the thread of my power still attached to her.

  I give the thread I’m holding the slightest tug.

  Her eyes pop wide, her mouth gapes open. “Fyndrexia, I beg of you. Please do not kill me.”

  “Are you kidding me? You poison, taunt, and torture me, and expect me to grant you mercy when the tables are turned?”

  “I was only doing as Mother told me.”

  “Oh sure. Mommy made me do it.” I sneer.

  “Lazara, if you cannot defeat her, then you deserve to scatter,” Anixia says coldly.

  Wow.

  I almost let go of the thread at the end of the needle I sent into Lazara. Left to die by her mother because she asked for help.

  This woman has no heart.

  “Is that any way to talk to your family, Anixia?”

  “If she is unable to defeat you, then she has no place beside me. I do not tolerate weakness of any kind.”

  My heart goes out to Lazara. That had to have been a cheery childhood.

  “You promised I would rule by your side. That I could absorb Fyndrexia. You must help me, Mother.”

  “I do not help those who cannot help themselves.” Anixia turns her back on Lazara and quickly walks away. Within moments, she winks out of existence.

  Lazara’s head falls into her hands. Her shoulders shaking around sobs. I snap the thread of adira connecting us. I don’t like her, but I can’t bring myself to kick her when she’s down either.

  “It’s always been you.”

  “What’s always been me?”

  “The one she looked for. The one she had to find.”

  She lifts her face. Her eyes are still tracking around, unable to see me. She turns from side to side. “Where are you? Why can’t I see you?”

  “I’m not going to tell you where I am. But I also have no idea why you can’t see me.”

  “Are you really a Creative?”

  “That’s what I’ve been told.”

  She nods her head after she stops turning.

  “You must make sure she can never find you. She has awful plans in store.”

  “Not that I’m complaining, but why are you telling me this? Aren’t you still Team Anixia?”

  She shakes her head. “She doesn’t love me.” She shrugs her shoulders, desolate.

  “People who love power rarely love other people.”

  She nods. “She has spies everywhere in your government. Two of them have access to large machines that can track your movements.”

  “Scarsman and Lockwood?”

  She nods. “Stephanie Lockwood is another of our sisters.”

  I close my eyes. If I had a physical stomach, I’d be chucking right now. “That snooty bitch is another sister? Dang it!”

  Lazara’s soft chuckle has me looking at her again. “She believes that she is the most powerful of all Anixia’s young. She is not. But she is very skilled in recruiting people to her cause. You must be wary of her, Fyndrexia. She is not one to be trifled with. She would sooner stab you in the back as look at you.”

  “Yeah, I picked up that vibe from her.”

  Lazara shuffles her feet, light flares echoing her steps. “So what are you going to do with me?”

  I sigh. I was hoping she wouldn’t have asked.

  “Well, you did try to kill me. And with a smile.”

  She just nods her head. She brings her arms up and hugs herself. “That is true. I am very sorry. I thought Anixia loved me and wanted me to be with her al
ways.” She wipes a hand under her nose. I’ve done some stupid things for what I thought was love, too.

  “Tell you what. You go back to your dad’s world. If he doesn’t let you in, come back here, and we’ll figure something out. Just know, though, that if you come back here and try to hurt me or anyone I love, I will kill you. I’ll absorb your power and scatter your remains to the multi-verse. I don’t play games.”

  She huddles into herself. “How will I reach you if I have to come back?”

  Huh. I hadn’t thought of that one. “Leave a message with Shavix. He’ll find a way to get it to me.”

  She wipes her nose one more time before lifting her head. She still can’t see me if her eyes darting all over the place is any indication. Tapping her index finger to her forehead, she bows. “I, Lazara of Anixia’s line, owe you a life debt, Fyndrexia of Anixia’s line. Be at peace, and know you can call on me in your time of need. I will never raise arms against you, or support or aid those who do. You have my everlasting vow.”

  The black, dense star-scape of the Matrix flares to an eye-searing white as she lifts her head. Her eyes find mine right before she blinks out of existence. A deep sound, like a gong, reverberates through the Matrix. The bright white disappears under the cover of black once again.

  Huh. Well, there you go.

  24

  “Now how do I get home?” I ask the blank space before me.

  “Follow your adira to your physical body,” a male voice calls out from the darkness.

  I whip around trying to find who is talking. No one is near me that I can see. I suppress a shudder.

  Closing my eyes, I let my mind go free within the mental shield. Using something other than my eyes, I search for the strand of adira that connects me to my physical body back on Earth.

  After what seems like forever, I find the faint strand. Pulsing a muddy red instead of the shiny silver it usually is, I rush down the length of it. Red can’t be good.

  A sensation of flying through the ether with nothing but some wind in my hair is something I don’t want to experience again in my lifetime. I want to vomit, curl into a tiny ball, and cry all at the same time. Maybe throw in some fainting just to spice things up.

  With a sudden jerk and a wheeze, I’m engulfed in pain. My body sends signals my brain simply can’t compute. I pull my awareness back, huddling inside my mental shield.

  Crap on a cracker, that hurts.

  I send out a tendril of adira, snaking it over and through my abused body, trying to find a piece that isn’t hurt or in agony.

  No such luck.

  I pull the adira tendril back inside my mental shield. Opening my senses, I hear my friends and family crying, yelling at someone to land the plane, and call for medical help. They need to know I’m okay. I can’t just sit in my mind and let them think I’m gone.

  I focus on my adira.

  “I’m a Creative, I’m a Creative, I’m a Creative,” I chant. Over and over. I’ve never really believed it, but I really need to force my body back into some kind of life.

  Gathering my courage, I force my adira through my body. Flooding my system, overwhelming the pain and searing heat, I keep pushing until everything feels at least semi-normal. My toes are still tingling, but all the rest of me feels okay-ish.

  Fluttering my eyes, I’m blinded by a flashlight.

  “Socks,” Hunter whispers right before he dips his head and kisses me.

  “She’s back. She’s back,” Kez says over the yelling and crying.

  All noise is cut off, minus a couple of nose blows and sobs.

  “Move it, Hunter. My turn,” Brian’s deep voice is full of tears. My head drops unceremoniously to the floor as Hunter is pushed out of the way.

  “Brian, don’t make me hurt you,” Hunter growls at him.

  “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” Brian’s big hands capture my abused head, his touch gentle. “You’ve seriously got to stop with this dying shit. I can’t handle it,” he cries. More tears slip from his red-rimmed deep blue eyes. A couple tears fall and splash on my forehead.

  “I’ll work on that. Although, good news, my ninja skills are epic.”

  His watery laugh huffs though his chest, before he dips down and kisses my cheek softly.

  “My turn,” Brent says. He elbows his brother to the side, not enough for Brian to drop my head though. Thank goodness.

  “We’ll see about those skills later. I’m glad you’re back Finley Marie.” He kisses my other cheek. His golden caramel eyes aren’t as red as his brother’s, but there are definite signs he’s been crying.

  “Sammy, we need some water,” Hunter calls out from my other side.

  “Yes, sir. Here you go,” a male says.

  “Thanks, man.” Hunter catches the bottle, and twists the lid off. “Help her sit up, Brian. She needs some water.” He motions at me with the bottle.

  My body is moved without conscious volition. I take another look at it with my adira vision. Everything looks like it’s in working order, but I can’t seem to move anything.

  “Um, Kez?”

  “Yeah, Fin?”

  “I can’t move my body at all. Only my mouth.”

  My words drop like a bomb.

  ***

  “Do you think it will get better?” I ask. I’m laying back in a reclining seat, secured into it with extra seat belts, blankets draped over me.

  “You should have shaped your command with more precise directions, Finley. How many times have I told you this?” Brock shakes his head.

  “Sorry, big man. I was too busy trying to get the burning and pain out of my way to worry about the minutiae of adira commands.” I glare at him.

  He shrugs his shoulders, unimpressed.

  “Then you have no one to blame but yourself. Try again.” He waves his hand at me.

  I take a deep breath, happy that I’m at least still working on the inside. I close my eyes to break off any distraction. I sink behind my mental shield, and take stock of what’s going on.

  I’ve pushed the burning and agony out of my body, but I didn’t eradicate the venom Lazara pumped into me with her tentacle thingies. Picturing them like I did before, I encase the floating shards in pastel bubbles.

  Forcing them to my skin’s surface, I open my eyes to see the orbs rising from my skin like some kind of malignant cancer. “Now what do I do, Brock?”

  He rolls his eyes at me. “Your ninja skills still suck, Baby-Fin. Force your adira to get rid of them. There is literally no limit that we have found for your Creative abilities.”

  Uh huh. Right.

  I focus on the bubbles, sitting peacefully on my skin. Squinting, I squish the bubbles until they disappear. As soon as the last one lifts from my body, I can move my extremities.

  I lean into a full-body stretch, feeling the pull and push of my bones and muscles under my skin. I let go of the stretch and feel the blood thump and thunder through my body once again.

  “Man, that feels good. Thanks, Brock.”

  He shakes his head at me and walks away.

  I push the blankets away, unhook the seatbelt, and pull my chair into the upright position. Standing on my own once again, I move into the aisle.

  Hunter, Brian, Brent, Sarah, and Kez are all watching me with eagle eyes. I do a couple jumps, leg lifts, and toe touches. My body is sore from being in one position for too long.

  Hunter stands, his face stern. He moves into my personal space, backing me up against the edge of the seat. He raises his hands, bracketing my hips, and settles his forehead against mine. “Stop. Almost. Dying.” He kisses me between each word.

  “I’ll work on that.” I kiss him back. “I’m sorry.”

  “Ladies and Gentlemen, please return to your seats. We’re getting ready to prepare for our landing into Washington D.C. Trays and seats in the upright position, all luggage stored under the seat in front of you, or in the overhead compartment. Please keep your cellphones and all electronics turned off until we reach the gate,”
Sammy, the other flight attendant, says from the front of the plane.

  25

  “Hello, Welcome to Hyatt Regency Washington on Capitol Hill. Do you have a reservation?” a pleasant young woman asks. Her blonde hair pulled back in a low ponytail with understated make-up makes her blue eyes pop against the jacket she’s wearing. Her discrete name tag reads “Jasmine.”

  “Hi, yes. Finley Tindol and group checking in.”

  She nods her pretty head and her fingers start clicking over an unseen keyboard. “We have you checking in tomorrow, Ms. Tindol.” She looks back up at me.

  “Yes, you do. We were able to fly instead of drive. Would we be able to get our rooms now? Or do we need to find somewhere else for the evening?”

  “Let me check. Just a moment please.”

  “Sure thing.” I set my bag down between my feet.

  My body is still sore, and the taxi drive over here, while not very long, was not something my body wanted to do. It’s whining and complaining in the form of tight knots between my shoulders, a numb left hip, and a budding migraine behind my right eye. I just want to take a hot shower and lay down.

  “We can do that, Ms. Tindol. We’ll add that to your bill. You have seven people in your party, and you need four rooms. Is that still correct?”

  I nod. “Yes. We would like to be placed near each other, but if that will be a hassle for you guys, we will gladly take whatever you have available.”

  Hunter rubs his hand over my back, his heat seeping through my clothes. With his other hand, he takes the coat and scarf from me while I rummage around in my purse to get the appropriate identification and paperwork.

  “Almost there,” he murmurs in my ear. I nod a little wearily.

  “I’ll see what we can do, Ms. Tindol. If you could please give me a credit card for incidentals and your driver’s license, we’ll get you squared away,” Jasmine says, a slight smile on her face.

  “You’re a blessing, Jasmine. Thank you.” I pass over the cards.

  “You’re most welcome, Ms. Tindol.” More clicking as she puts in more information to her computer. A couple of turns and drawer pulls later, she’s handing me a collection of cards in paper envelopes, my credit card, and my license back.