by Bryan Cohen
"But, if you'd just messed with their minds you wouldn't have needed…. Maybe Erica's right. You're losing your finesse."
Ted huffed. "We won. That's all that matters. I thought you were on my side."
Dhiraj knew his friend had come back different, and he wondered if Ted would ever be willing to talk about it. No dice so far.
"Always, buddy. Always." He wrinkled his nose. "Just be careful. I doubt everyone's gonna approve of your methods."
Ted was about to respond, but he saw someone in the distance that gave him pause. When Dhiraj turned to look, he nearly dropped his cup. At a hulking six feet and change, former football star and Kable-replacement Senator David Thompkins stomped toward them. Even Ted seemed to gulp at the sight of him.
Thompkins stretched out his massive hand. "Mr. Finley. Mr. Patel. I've wanted to meet you two for ages. One heck of a job you did out there."
Ted and Dhiraj shared a look before they returned the gesture. In their youth, Thompkins had busted so many heads for the Philadelphia Eagles, Dhiraj was surprised he hadn't been tried for assault. A hometown hero through and through, he was a lock in every election campaign he ran.
Ted croaked his greeting. "It's an honor."
Dhiraj stepped forward. "Mr. Senator, It's inspiring just to be standing next to you."
He ignored Ted's eye roll and watched Thompkins' porcelain-veneered grin expand. "Believe me, the feeling is mutual. You've done so much at a young age, Mr. Patel, I'm surprised you haven't run for office yet."
Dhiraj considered the compliment as his hand was lost in the giant grip of the former defensive lineman.
President Patel has a nice ring to it. Nothing wrong with being in charge.
Ted smiled. "Don't give him any ideas, Senator. Doesn't power corrupt absolutely?"
"That's a myth, my boy." Thompkins pulled back and straightened his suit. "Nothing wrong with a little political ambition, Mr. Finley. I'm just glad you're not old enough to run against me." The man turned his gaze left and right. "I was hoping to see your other partner in crime here. Where is the lovely Ms. LaPlante?"
Ted's gaze went cold.
Dhiraj cleared his throat. "She sat this one out, Senator. I'd be happy to set up a meeting."
As they politely conversed, Dhiraj considered all of the places Erica could be. None of them seemed good. None of them seemed safe. But the strangest thing about it was that lover-boy Ted Finley didn't seem to care.
2
Erica felt light as the alcohol worked its way through her system. Her head bobbed up and down slightly as the music pulsed throughout the vaguely rancid-scented fraternity house. She didn't want to think about the atrocities that had occurred on the velvety couch where she'd planted herself about a half-hour earlier. Two empty Solo cups beside her winked in her direction, asking her if she wanted a fifth drink.
She was mission-free. Purposeless. Everything she'd done for the last 300 years was gone in an instant. It all evaporated the second Ted negotiated that peace treaty.
It took her at least 30 seconds to realize that someone had sat down next to her.
The lothario by her side couldn't have been much older than Ted. He had facial hair that was fighting to be a mustache, though it was coming up short. He also wore a perpetual smirk that seemed to indicate that nine times out of 10, he got what he wanted.
The frat boy inched his hips closer to hers. "Hey, you're pretty hot."
Erica shifted herself back to the original distance. "Hey, you have to do much better than that."
His smirk grew smirkier. "Okay, hard to get. I feel you."
I wish you wouldn't.
Despite her internal revulsion, Erica's heart rate started to go up. As much as she wanted to convince herself she was a warrior through and through, these days it was impossible to ignore the feelings of her borrowed human vessel. After all, his biceps were bigger than Ted's, and she wondered how they'd feel wrapped around her body.
The fratty took in a deep breath of stale masculine air. "Your eyes look like they've seen a lot."
Once she'd gotten past the failed mustache, Erica didn't mind scanning the boy's strong jaw; his cunning eyes; his hair that looked soft enough to touch.
A sly smile crossed Erica's face. "Oh yeah?" She felt her chest grow tingly.
The boy who thought he was a man stared deep into her eyes. "For sure. But I can tell that they're missing something."
Erica resisted rolling said eyes. She let her tongue play against the top row of her teeth. "And you know me well enough to know what I'm missing?"
He threw his arm over Erica's shoulder and pulled her in close. The hairs on the back of her neck stuck straight up. Truth be told, she didn't mind the attention. She even leaned closer to his face, tilting her chin up and parting her lips slightly.
The frat boy revealed a crooked smile. "I think you're missing me."
He'd barely put the punctuation on that sentence when Erica put her lips onto his. She took in his musky scent and the sour taste of beer on his lips. She felt careless, even dangerous. His arm wrapped around her back and pulled her hips closer to his. A bubble of emotion burst in her stomach.
I missed this.
Erica's mind grew clear, and she pulled her face away. She took in a deep breath and turned to look at the rest the party. The excitement and bliss she felt just a moment ago converted into pure anxiety. Her hands shook as she removed them from the guy's waist.
Fratboy tightened his grip. "It looks like I was right. Come here."
Erica kept her eyes focused on anything but him. She watched the girls in their short skirts gyrating on muscle-heads who shifted up and down. She knew that this was the life her former inhabitant had wanted. And if Erica wasn't careful, the dead cheerleader would have her wish.
Erica tried unsuccessfully to dislodge herself from her suitor. "I have to go."
The guy leaned forward to shift Erica to her back. "You kissed me. And I think we're just getting started."
Erica turned again and watched two girls in low-cut dresses giggling over their half-filled cups. She wondered if they knew how close they were to extinction. She wondered if they somehow knew that a death from alcohol poisoning or a car accident could turn them into dark souls.
The frat boy was now completely on top of Erica. She hadn't even realized it. She must've been too numb to feel it.
He leaned down, his breath all booze and sweat against her face. "You know, I've got some special talents that you shouldn't ignore."
Erica shifted uncomfortably beneath him. "Like juggling?"
A bead of sweat formed on his unshaven wannabe mustache as he grinned once more. "Kiss me again and you'll find out."
Erica closed her eyes and tried to remember the last time that Ted had asked her to kiss him. She couldn't, so she arched her shoulders off the couch and touched his lips with hers again. He pressed her down into the couch and moved his hands up the front of her shirt.
She grimaced. "No."
His hands reached their target and began to enact what their owner thought was his special talent. "I haven't even started yet."
She tried to press her feet against the couch to move away from him, but now his leverage was too great. "Don't. You'll be sorry."
He kept going. "Just another minute. I swear, you'll be in heaven."
Erica took a firm grasp of his thin fake-silk shirt in her hands. She looked him square in the eyes. "And you'll be in the hospital."
She twisted her hips hard to the left and tossed the boy clear across the room into a cheaply plastered wall. As he landed with a painful-looking thump to the ground, the big-busted girls changed their giggles into screams. The music stopped and Erica got to her feet. She could still feel his odor on her. Erica looked down at the boy who'd been on top of her and saw a red gash start to bleed on his forehead.
She turned her neck from side to side and heard a wet pop in both directions. "No means no."
A taller, lankier frat boy sto
mped up to her side and began wildly gesticulating. "What the hell are you doing? How can you sucker-punch someone like that?"
Erica gave him some serious side eye, but she quickly realized she was deep in enemy territory. The others in the room had nothing but pity for their friend, and complete ire for the stranger in their midst.
She grinned from ear to ear. "I guess if he'd ripped my shirt off, you would've thrown him a parade."
The gangly wingman took another step and raised his voice to level nine. "You aren't welcome here anymore. I think you should leave."
Erica grinned and crouched low. "I think you should make me."
Before his wounded friend could croak out a warning, the long-armed opponent took a swipe at her. As he reached, Erica grasped his wrist and used his momentum to flip him all the way over her body and straight down into the hardwood. The floor creaked with his weight. Though she was tempted to yank his arm out of the socket, she sensed another attacker behind her. Even with the reaction-slowing substance coursing through her veins, she could tell her next victim was as large as the other two combined. Erica used her foot to slide the skinny one closer to his compatriot.
She turned to see a linebacker of a man who looked like Travis, if her friend had taken steroids from birth. She bounced from side to side on the balls of her feet. "Hey, can you tell me where the weight room is?"
His face was humorless as he rushed her. The alcohol slowed her dodge just enough to keep her from sidestepping the oncoming bear hug. The behemoth of a man lifted Erica a foot into the air and tightened his grip around her back.
The veins pulsed in his thick neck. "Time to leave."
Even though it was difficult for Erica to breathe, she managed a slight smile anyway. "Time to sleep."
She whipped her head back and slammed it hard into the frat boy's forehead. He collapsed like a bag of rocks. Erica looked from across the room for her next challenger, but she saw a friend instead. Jennifer Norris looked mortified as she leaned back against the frame of the front door.
The adrenaline continued to coarse through Erica's body as she sat down in the passenger seat of Jennifer's car. She didn't remember closing the door, but there they were, driving off the main frat street and back onto the highway. It was silent for the first five minutes of the drive, but Erica could sense her friend's growing desire to scold.
Jennifer let out a squeal of frustration. "What were you thinking? Were you thinking at all? You know you could've been arrested, right? If they hadn't been on double probation or whatever–"
"I just wanted to have a good time."
Jennifer shook her head. "Is this going to become a regular thing? Is the old Erica back to stay?"
The former protector wished she had an answer.
3
Warm midday sand chafed Natalie's skin from head to toe. Through the blinding sun, she looked up to see a familiar sky. Blinking in the corner of the cloudless expanse above her, she saw the outline of the closing electric blue portal.
She reached for it. "Wait." Her voice was dry and scratchy. "Wait, dammit."
The ground shifted beneath her as if a train were coming. She turned her head to the left, causing the sand on her right cheek to slide down to her neck. She didn't see anything, and that's what made her stomach pinch the most. The ground continued to rumble.
Natalie wanted to get up. She wanted to run, but all of her muscles felt incredibly weak. It reminded her how she felt after Pluric had tortured the crap out of her.
"Good times."
As the sand around her shook harder, she finally mustered up the energy to reach a sitting position. That's when she saw the massive worm's tail leap into her field of vision. Despite her lethargy, the sight was enough to get her up and sprinting in a hurry. The sand whipped at her ankles as she tried unsuccessfully to reach top speed. The terralite was gaining on her, and every cell in her body started to panic.
She cursed beneath her breath. "This is totally… unfair…. I need one of those… damn Star Wars hovercrafts… or something."
While she didn't see any futuristic technology over the horizon, a small city did come into view.
Her eyes lit up. "It won't come in the city. It can't."
Just then, the worm sprung out of the ground right behind her left heel. It let out a terrifying gurgle and sprayed Natalie with the sand from below the surface. She shook the desert debris from her hair and picked up her pace. As the worm leapt into the air, Natalie judged the creature's downward trajectory.
She tensed up her ankles. "Let's hope you can't change directions."
As the worm neared, Natalie waited until the last possible second to put everything she had into a sideways roll. She hurled her body hard to the right, barely avoiding the sharp teeth of the beast above her. The creature dove into the sand, and Natalie got back to standing in a hurry. She took the final few steps into a cobblestoned town. The sounds of the worm grew quieter, and Natalie let herself slow down.
Her lungs worked overtime. "I think from now on, I'm just gonna bait my hooks with cheese."
Pain shot down Natalie's back as something sliced her from the top to the bottom of her spine. She screamed in agony and turned to see the source of the injury. A gruesome and massive troll drooled as he stared into her eyes.
The beast used a gray, bulbous tongue to lick what looked like lips. "Worm was good bait for me."
Natalie skittered away on the stones below. "Your English comprehension skills really have improved."
The troll stomped ahead. "I'd learn more. But hungry now."
Natalie reached into her pocket and found a handful of sand.
"I really think you'd do better with some leafy greens."
The gargantuan creature dashed forward and spread its clawed fingers wide. Natalie tossed the sand right in the troll's face. The creature brought his hands up to his blinded eyes, and Natalie gingerly rolled between its legs. She didn't stop running to see if the ugly beast was following her.
Natalie felt twitchy. Anything could pop out at her from between the buildings she passed. She wasn't sure if she was hyperventilating, having a panic attack, or both, but whatever was going on caused her to collapse on the unforgiving stones below. The hard surface scraped her knees and she could feel the bruises beginning to form. She cursed at herself until she heard something familiar.
"Natalie?"
She looked up and her lips curled into a smile. There was her broad shouldered, meathead boyfriend. Travis had a heroic look on his face and he carried a gun in each thick hand. He walked over to her cautiously, as if he had the same fear of impending attack as she did.
She wrinkled her nose. "I'm not sure if you're pulling off that whole Rambo look."
He either ignored the joke or didn't get it in the first place. Either way, he went down to one knee several feet away from her. She couldn't understand why he didn't come closer.
Travis's face went from confident to regretful in a moment's notice. "I'm sorry, Nat. I can't save you."
Natalie snorted. "What do you mean?"
He didn't have time to answer. The ground gave way directly beneath Natalie and her body dropped through into the abyss. Her stomach shot up to her throat. She reached up for Travis. She reached up for anything, but she knew that this time nothing would save her. She was going to die.
Natalie sat up so hard in bed that she nearly pulled a neck muscle. Her hair and face were drenched in sweat. Her hands shook until she angrily stared them down into steadiness. After a few deep breaths, she rolled out of bed and grabbed the basketball from her shelf. One look at the clock told her it was 4 a.m., but her parents would just have to put up with her dribbling. For all the variations she'd had on that same nightmare in the past three months, the sleeplessness had not affected her game. Sure, she was basically the worst person to be around, but Travis, her teammates, and her other friends didn't seem to mind much.
After half an hour of practice, Natalie reached for her bedside tab
le and pulled her phone away from its charger. The background stared up at her. It was a terrible, way-too-close selfie that Travis had taken and made into her permanent backdrop. She wanted to change it, but she knew that he'd give her crap about it, so she let the unflattering photo stay. She could hardly believe that he'd been such a devoted boyfriend. He attended almost all of her games, including the away ones. He'd jumped through a freakin' portal and tried to save her from an evil army. She knew she didn't deserve him.
Natalie let out a sigh and allowed her finger to scroll down her list of contacts. She clicked on the messenger app and sent a quick text.
"You up?"
"Got back a few hours ago. Can't sleep either. Come over?"
Natalie looked up at her ceiling. She gave her head a little shake and responded. "K."
Sneaking out her bedroom window was the easy part. Getting over the feelings of the dream and the consequences of her actions would be more difficult. It didn't take her long at all to travel the familiar path with the destination that was just a few blocks away. She hesitated briefly at the bottom of the driveway.
I should go home. I should go back to sleep.
But she didn't. She traced the edge of the asphalt with her feet and walked past the side of the house. She climbed up the well-worn siding and knocked on the window. A smile greeted her as the window and screen opened up to accommodate.
Natalie took his hand and stepped over the windowsill.
They sat on the bed facing one another.
"Miss me?"
She growled. "Shut up."
Natalie felt her heart beat fast enough to push away the self-loathing, as she gripped Ted Finley's shirt from the bottom, pulled it over his head, and kissed him square on the mouth.
4
Jennifer let the bright pink wedge of sunlight wash across the side of her face. She tried to ignore the fact that she'd been awake the last three hours. She looked over at Erica softly dozing beside her. There'd been dozens of nights like the frat house incident before her friend had perished prematurely, but this was only the third one since the fierce light soul warrior from the other side had taken over her friend's existence. These three drunken escapades had all happened within the last month, and Jennifer wasn't interested in getting used to them.