Still, I was kind of at a loss as to what to do. Reasoning with them would be a waste of breath and it wasn’t like I could call Jem because he had a dragon to stop. Besides, I wasn’t even sure they’d listen to him either. Ever since we saved their asses from the wraith and the cops showed up, Jem went from inner circle to untrustworthy overnight. It probably didn’t help that he started dating Kayla, which meant that they didn’t have their little flunky to do their bidding anymore.
Ugh, my own situation was annoying enough without having to worry about my idiot brother’s social status. As far as I could tell, my only option was to fight them. As long as I didn’t use lethal force, I was good. If I could draw the attention of the cops and get them locked up for their own good, even better. The thought of slugging that stupid condescending smirk from Gordon’s face was almost enough of a silver lining to make it worthwhile.
Almost.
There was just one problem. Nonlethal force wasn’t my specialty and there was no way I was going to engage in bare-knuckled fisticuffs with a bunch of football jocks pumped up on dragon steroids. I cursed myself. For all the crazy stuff I carried on me at all times, I never once stopped to consider blunt force weapons. Everything in my arsenal was bladed and spelled to do the maximum amount of damage with the least amount of effort. There wasn’t even a loose rock, empty beer bottle, or a hefty tree branch laying around. Curse you, real life, for not playing by the same rules as a Hollywood revenge movie.
“This ought to do the trick.”
“Huh?”
Oh my cow! I nearly jumped out of my skin when this little old guy who looked like some sort of a demonic steampunk Santa Claus materialized next to me. That would have been weird enough, but he was also holding a bottle of acid green liquid that looked downright poisonous.
“W-who… w-what is it?”
“An infusion made from distilled pixie glitter and most of the common ingredients required for an erasure snare, but with a little extra cloudshine.”
Erasure snare, as I now knew all too well, packed one hell of a punch, and the cloudshine would knock them out for a while, but the inclusion of pixie glitter, especially distilled pixie glitter, was going to cause one hell of a wicked hangover. The potion would definitely get them off my back, but the end result was not going to be pretty. The old man pulled a targeted spray nozzle out of his pocket and fitted it onto the crystal bottle.
“I call it Karma snare,” he said with a wink, adding as he handed over the bottle, “Do use it sparingly. My potions tend to be… enthusiastically effective.”
That was all the encouragement I needed. Well, that and the fact that Gordon decided to try to use my distraction at the old man’s sudden appearance as a chance to try and tackle me. I took the bottle and zapped him right in the face before turning the nozzle to mist and catching the rest of the idiot squad in one shot. They all lurched and swayed like a bunch of puppets with their strings cut before collapsing into a pile of jock and jerk right in the middle of the parking lot.
“Thanks,” I said, handing the bottle back and finally getting a chance to take a good look at who or what the old man was.
He had the distinct aura of Order, that’s for sure, but he didn’t feel like any of us. Considering the potion he carried, my automatic assumption might have been Warrior, but he sure didn’t look like one. I wasn’t sure if all Warriors looked like Desmond, but I seemed to recall him saying something once about how being huge and intimidating probably helped him land the job.
This guy was probably no taller than five and a half feet and intimidating would have been the last word I’d use to describe him. Grandfatherly, maybe, but definitely not intimidating. Then again, that potion was pretty damned effective. Maybe that was this guy’s angle. Instead of looking like some kind of a bad ass, maybe he used his unassuming appearance to his advantage. I was all for using the element of surprise and I could definitely see that working in this guy’s favor. At least until pop culture gets around to demonizing Santa in the same way they demonized clowns.
“You are quite welcome, Nai.”
“How’d you know my… Never mind. You are an Order agent, aren’t you?”
It was a little creepy, but it made sense that if he was here to help, he probably knew my name at least. But he ignored my question.
“That vest is rather nifty,” he remarked, eyeing me in a way that was less in line with the behavior of a Warrior and more like one of those catty judges on reality TV shows. It didn’t help that he started to circle me and mutter to himself as if I wasn’t standing right there. “Yes, the pockets are conveniently placed and the Kevlar lining was a brilliant addition. You certainly don’t want an accidental stab wound right there over your soft tissue. But my word! How do you move with all that extra weight?”
“It’s not that much,” I snapped. Okay, so maybe it was a little awkward when I was completely geared up, but I was pretty damned proud of what I’d managed to create out of five bucks worth of thrift store cast offs and a few hours work. Who was this guy to get all critical of my work? I didn’t like when people got judgmental for no reason. Besides, it wasn’t like I had the sweet trans-cyclical hook up like Desmond…
Oh!
Suddenly his weird appearance and weirder behavior made sense. His strange wardrobe choices, unique aura, powerful potion, and interest in my weapons setup were like puzzle pieces that fell into place. This guy wasn’t a Warrior, but he was just as formidable.
“Oh my cow! You’re Arkady! Aren’t you?”
“Guilty as charged,” he beamed. “Though I rather like the ring of Steampunk Santa,” he added with a conspiratorial wink. “Even if I take umbrage with the demonic part.”
“Yeah, well, your appearance is kind of… uh… unique,” I said with a shrug and a pointed look. It was as close to an apology as he was going to get. Besides, his being here was far more important than…
Hang on…
I had not said anything about the way he looked out loud.
“Did you just-”
“Read your mind? Not exactly,” he said with the kind of smile that adults use when they’re trying to indulge a child and get away with something, which was exactly what he was doing. For that matter, it wasn’t helping dispel the Santa vision either. “I can merely read your intent, Nai. Mind you, your intention to find something to poke fun at regarding my appearance was rather strong, but as I am aware of your fascinating predicament, all is forgiven. Now,” he went on, not paying me any mind as he poked around inside his own jacket, tossing all manner of weapons, potions, and who knows what else aside. As it was, there were a couple of goodies that went rolling under a nearby car that I nearly dove for.
The whole scene was rather cartoonish and I had to wonder for a moment if I hadn’t been hit with a little backdraft on that Karma potion.
“Ah, here we go!” he said at last, pulling a large black lump out of an impossibly tiny pocket. “Try this on and we’ll adjust the size.”
He tossed to me what turned out to be a black leather jacket, similar in style to the one Desmond wore, but in my size.
“No way…”
I stared in awe at Arkady and back at the jacket, noticing an inside pocket that seemed to pulse with a familiar energy. I definitely did not want to get my hopes up, but I couldn’t force the dopey smile off my face either. “Is this…?” I didn’t dare ask. I couldn’t. Arkady just smiled.
“Why don’t you just try it on? Er… without the vest.”
“Oh! Right…”
My hands were shaking so badly that it took me three attempts to undo the clasps, but I finally managed, dropping the utility vest and weapons in a clatter on the pavement. I’d barely shoved one arm into the first sleeve and already I could feel the magic. I didn’t even have to see my reflection to know that the fit was perfect. This was more than just a jacket. Hell, this was more than just a jacket with a trans-cyclical pocket. Not only was it stylish, but I was wrapped in one hell of a
protective shield that I somehow knew was meant to block both physical and magical attacks.
But getting back to that pocket…
“Imbued blade,” I whispered, keeping my voice so quiet that there was no way for Arkady to hear me from where he stood. Not even a second later, I felt a weight and reached into the pocket. Sure enough, there was an imbued blade with a note attached to the handle that read:
Although I can read intent, specifically asking for a *holy shade* imbued blade would have saved my staff some work.
“Impressive,” I said, feeling only slightly admonished and a little weirded out about having the specifics of what I was asking for pulled from my brain, but still, I felt the need to defend my request. “I uh, tended to stick to more generic weapons when I had to carry them all.”
“You’ll soon get over that, I imagine,” Arkady said with a dismissive air. “And if I’m not mistaken, I think you’re going to enjoy testing the proto-types.”
“Proto-types? You mean, newly developed weapons?”
“Weapons, potions, protective measures, armor, and more… If we can build it, you’ll be asked to try it.”
“So if I go down to the mill and… Well crap, never mind.” Before I could get my hopes up, Myrna came walking up and I was reminded not only of what I had been sent to do, but that I had a babysitter too. “I’ve got to go guard people,” I sighed in a voice that said exactly what I felt about the situation.
“Quite frankly, Nai, I’m surprised you bothered to make an appearance at all.”
“What exactly does that mean?” I asked with a scowl, but Myrna just laughed at me.
“All I mean is that if I were in your shoes, I can’t say for sure that I wouldn’t have taken advantage of the situation. You go on. I’ll handle the lost and I’ll handle Desmond should he decide to throw a hissy fit.”
I just stood in shock for a moment as she walked away. I mean, Myrna was the oldest mystic and played by her own rules, but still, I hadn’t expected her to just straight up tell me to defy Desmond.
“So this is it?” I asked, turning a hopeful smile back to Arkady. My eyes were probably bugging like Bogie’s but I didn’t care. “Am I really going to be a Warrior?”
Arkady lifted his bushy white eyebrows. “Going to be? I was under the impression that your, how shall we say this… particularly unique circumstances and your stubborn nature made for one who did not wait for others to give an official designation.”
“And that means…” I prompted, not at all cool with the vague answer, though really, the jacket could very likely convince me not to give a fig about my official title.
“What that means is that you and I will be having a much longer conversation at a more convenient time,” he said with another infuriating wink. “Now then, I’m afraid Santa’s got a few more stops to make before returning to the North Pole. Do take care Nai. It will be a pleasure to do business with you.”
Before I could ask what the crap any of that meant, he was gone. I would have followed, but finding someone outside the Cycle was kind of a pain in the ass. Besides, the idiot squad was stirring and I didn’t want to be around when they woke up. Since I could see Myrna was already inside taking care of the potential lost souls, I didn't see any reason why I needed to hang around. I had access to any weapon I could imagine and there was still a Discordant army to dispatch.
After stuffing my vest and all of the weapons into my pocket for safe keeping (and marveling at how that worked), I went looking for trouble and easily found it. Werewolves and pixies were too easy, so I went looking for the winter fairies. Those things gave me the creeps. They were way harder to kill than most Discordant, including vampires because they could go insubstantial at the drop of a hat. They were also way quicker than the vamps and had the added bonus of being able to evoke instant depression and anxiety. But now that I could actually use the fairy traps that I’d only ever read about before, even they were hardly a challenge.
I stayed away from the areas where I might run into Desmond. Despite the fact that his weapons developer had come into the Cycle and personally gave me the unofficial uniform of a Warrior, I didn’t really want to call attention to myself. Somehow the idea of having to explain the situation to Desmond seemed kind of awkward.
Damn. I really had to wonder what was wrong with me now. First, I didn’t want to kill the Chapman High bullies when I had the chance, and now the idea of gloating to Desmond that he was totally wrong about me held no appeal. I knew that Jem and I were balancing at a faster than usual rate due to our anomalous birth, but that was supposed to take years, maybe even decades. This was too fast even for us. Something else was at play and I was going to figure out what it was.
Eventually.
As intriguing and mysterious as my sudden empathy was, at that moment, I was much more interested in testing out all the known methods for killing vampires and hopefully adding a few of my own design as well. Seriously, there were so very many types of vampires and each had a different weakness. Adding all the different vamps to my kill stats had been something of a game to me and now that I had the trans-cyclical pocket, I’d almost doubled my previous count.
And yet, instead of feeling the usual rush or being proud of myself for finding a new and inventive way to kill, I found myself questioning whether or not I was doing the right thing. Whether the thrill of the hunt was clouding my mind to the fact that even though I was the good guy, I was a murderer. It was stupid and annoying, and completely unfounded, and yet, I couldn’t stop dwelling. It was as if my mind had been hijacked by Jem or something.
But that was impossible. At least, I hoped it was. The feelings that crowded my mind were nearly the opposite of what I’d felt earlier when the dragon’s influence overcame me. As far as I knew, the only Discordant that could make me question my own motives and create crushing guilt was an angel and there definitely wasn’t an angel nearby. Besides, I really wasn’t feeling that guilty, so that couldn’t be what was messing with me. But I sure seemed to be questioning my motives. Which meant that either my brother had somehow jacked my brain or we were balancing, but at some sort of an alarming rate. I wasn’t sure what was more alarming, the possibility of balancing too fast or the idea that my brother was powerful enough to take over my head.
I wondered if it had anything to do with the protective magic of the jacket. I guess it would make sense. If I was supposed to be a Warrior, I probably needed to be kind of balanced so I wouldn’t go on a psycho rampage or anything. It was possible that the spell was one that created balance. But no, when I took the jacket off, I felt just as conflicted, but with the added bonus of feeling unprotected, so I put it back on. Except that rather than feel protected, I still felt vulnerable. Vulnerable and creeped out, and more than a little paranoid.
As if it wasn’t bad enough that my mental state was out of whack, suddenly my physical abilities were impaired as well! I felt way lighter than normal, but clumsy, like someone had drugged me into thinking I was a helium balloon. My attacks were hitting air more often than they hit their mark, which made absolutely no sense because in addition to my natural skill, I now had access to the ultimate real life cheat code of every weapon ever. Even the super weapons with targeting systems were missing their mark! Seriously, I was one more miss away from a complete nervous breakdown. It wasn’t fair! I had new weapons! I wasn’t supposed to get worse!
“What the hell?”
When I’d tried to stake a heretic vampire, I tripped and fell right through him. At first, I thought it was another impossible miss and the vamp had gone insubstantial, but no, it was much worse than that. I stared in horror as my limbs flickered in and out of existence. I was the one who had gone insubstantial, not the vampire.
Instead of sticking around, I ran, marveling at the fact that I could do so with no legs. I mean, I guess I had legs since I was running, but I couldn’t feel them and I couldn’t hear my footsteps. Yet, I was aware that my brain had given the order to run and I
was headed away from the fight. The whole experience was weird. Too weird. Like, the beginnings of a full-fledged panic attack weird.
Even weirder, I wasn’t drawing any notice and with the bars letting out, there were plenty of people walking by. No one even glanced my way. But the Discordant noticed, and took advantage, dodging out of sight to chase after unsuspecting souls while I was useless. It was as if the universe was playing the cruelest practical joke on me. I finally get the ultimate Warrior weapon, but I can’t do squat because my body parts decided to randomly disappear.
Obviously, I needed to duck out and see the Creator to find out what was going on, but to my horror, when I tried to slip out of the Cycle, nothing happened! I was stuck! It didn’t matter how hard I concentrated, I stayed put. In a moment of brilliance or sheer desperation, I tried to shove myself into the trans-cyclical pocket, but I couldn’t even muster up enough corporeal form to even reach into my pocket, which meant I had no way to use my phone. I couldn’t look up to see what kind of a creature could have been causing me to phase out. This also meant that I had no way to send a message to see if anyone else was experiencing anything like this, so I just headed for the Five Penny. Even though the bars were closed, I knew there had to be someone nearby. There always was.
I just hoped there was still enough of me left when I found them.
The closer I got, the weirder I started to feel. Except weirder wasn’t even close to a strong enough word. Out of sorts was better, but still not quite right. It was almost as if my entire existence had been called into question, which was stupid. There was no way that could possibly happen.
Of all the people that could have been there, I was surprised to see Eller Raglund hanging around in the alley behind the bar. As far as I knew, he was planning on staying out at Myrna’s to set traps and plan strategies. I was about to call out when I noticed that Eller wasn’t alone. Jem sat on the ground, leaning up against the bar’s back door, clinging to a weird black lump that turned out to be a stray dog. He looked almost as rough as I felt and I noticed immediately that there definitely wasn’t a dragon hanging around.
Rise of the Discordant: The Complete Five Book Series Page 77