William Wilde and the Necrosed (The Chronicles of William Wilde)

by Davis Ashura

  They’d won.

  William stood in shock as his teammates bellowed their triumph. Many of the St. Francis defenders smacked him on the helmet as they streamed past.

  William shouted in joy.

  After the game, Mr. Zeus invited all of William’s and Jason’s friends to his house for a celebration with lots of pizza.

  “Then during Biology, William reaches into the bucket and basically flings the frog at me,” Serena said, trying to sound exasperated.

  “I hurled it. I didn’t fling it,” William corrected through everyone’s laughter. “And if any of you had handled that thing, you’d have done the same. It was disgusting.”

  “Well, I’m sure none of them would have splashed me with frog juice. It got all over my hair,” Serena replied.

  “Gross,” Lien said with a chuckle.

  “I did say I was sorry,” William said. “At least twenty times.”

  “And I eventually forgave you,” Serena said. “It’s just that the smell lingered all day, so I think I’m allowed to tease you about it. I swear, sometimes I think I can still smell the formaldehyde.” She held a lock of hair out to William. “What do you think?”

  He inhaled. His eyes closed for an instant. “It smells like flowers.”

  William’s words sent a thrill tingling up Serena’s spine, and she managed a shy smile even as her heart skipped a beat. Thoughts filled her mind, treasonous thoughts of freedom, ones in which she rebelled against all her commitments and orders and lived her life on her own terms.

  In the next heartbeat, Serena cursed her foolish longings and bit down on her pizza as if it were the weakness that threatened to undo her control. Selene, she reminded herself.

  Jason, thankfully, changed the subject as only he could, by snickering.

  Lien threw a piece of garlic bread at him, but he ducked out of the way, and it smacked Daniel on the side of his head.

  “Hey!”

  “Oops,” Lien said. “I was aiming at Jason.”

  “What did I do?” Jason protested.

  “You know what you did,” Lien said before turning to Serena. “Don’t mind Jason. He’s an asexual ass—”

  “Language,” Mr. Karllson warned.

  “Oops again. Sorry,” Lien said, sounding unapologetic. “Anyway, Jason isn’t interested in romance, or what it means when a boy likes a girl.”

  “Uh, Lien,” Daniel warned. “I don’t think you should . . .”

  “Don’t think I should what?” Lien shot a glance at William, who seemed inordinately interested in his food. “Oh!”

  Kohl Obsidian awoke with a hiss and a start when his singular dream was interrupted.

  In his fantasy, Kohl fed upon long lines of frenzied asrasins. One by one, he stole their succulent, pure lorethasra, enjoying their panicked pain and sweat-ridden fear as their life’s grace grew corrupted and pustulant. It was his favorite dream.

  And after his gorging, Kohl, now more fell than any necrosed in history, challenged and destroyed Sapient Dormant, the Overward of the necrosed, their leader, the one being in all the worlds whom Kohl feared.

  His ability to lucidly dream was a remnant from his previous life, from the time when he’d been a holder, from when he’d been human. He didn’t like to dream of those times, though. He didn’t even like to remember them.

  But tonight his singular dream had been interrupted by an unexpected stirring of something familiar, of someone familiar.

  Kohl concentrated, and the answer to the disturbance came to him. The boy from months ago. The boy Kohl had spared, but whose family he had killed. The boy with the potential for lorethasra.

  Emotions, powerful and strong, raged through the boy. Blazing triumph filled his thoughts. He had done something he considered worthy of praise. What it was, Kohl didn’t know or care, but what he did know was this: the small seed he had planted within the boy those many months ago had found fertile soil. The child had grown fleet of foot and strong.

  Kohl considered harvesting the boy now. It would be poetic justice. He had become who he was because of the necrosed’s polluted lorethasra. Plus, Kohl needed new parts for his body. The boy’s extremities and organs would serve nicely.

  But if he waited, the boy would grow even stronger. His lorethasra might flower fully, becoming as delicious as a ripe mango. Kohl hesitated, and the boy’s potential for lorethasra became the ultimate temptation. If it came to fruition, the boy would be a rich reward for Kohl’s patience.

  The necrosed pondered long into the night on what next to do.

  Everyone on the football team knew that the one play William had made, that one instinctive effort to hold on, had saved St. Francis’ season. Coach Rasskins knew it. Every student in the stands knew it. Even Jake Ridley and his suspended friends knew it.

  And by Monday, everyone in the school had suddenly become William’s friend, and the football team welcomed him into their brotherhood with open arms. Even Jake Ridley, imbued by whatever magic winning created, managed civility toward William. He offered a nod of acknowledgment in homeroom although his eyes seemed to burn with resentment.

  Two more games followed the one against Blackward, along with two more wins. Then came Halloween, Jake’s first game back on the team, and the final one of the regular season. It would be against Archbishop Roman, the undefeated, defending city and state champion. The game would determine the league championship and whether St. Francis would go on to the state playoffs.

  Since his play against Blackward, William had occasionally seen the field, but only on special teams, and never in critical situations. The truth was that while his play had improved during practice, Coach still didn’t trust him on game day, but against Archbishop, another late-game injury pressed William into service. Archbishop was driving for a score that would put the game out of reach. This time William had to fill in at safety, covering the void in the center of St. Francis’ defense.

  “They’re coming right after you, look sharp!” Jake shouted to William.

  “Just like against Blackward!” Jeff Setter exhorted. “You got this!”

  Both players slapped William’s helmet in encouragement.

  William nodded, and untapped his latent anger, leaving him amped up but focused. He clamped down on his mouthpiece, and just as it had against Blackward, the world receded. Archbishop was up by four points. If they managed a touchdown, the game would be lost.

  William scouted Archbishop’s formation. They had two running backs in a power-I, with their wide receivers bunched up tight. A running play. William eased forward to be at the point of attack.

  He was about to edge closer to the line of scrimmage when he noticed one of the wide receivers drift into motion, moving from left to right onto William’s side of the field. He caught the glance between the quarterback and the wide receiver.

  Warning bells went off. “Watch the pass!” William shouted as he shifted back and cheated closer to the wide receiver.

  The ball snapped. Joe Skipper, the cornerback who had initial coverage on the wide receiver in motion, shot toward the quarterback. He must have thought it was a run, too. The wide receiver shucked past Joe and sprinted down the sideline, uncovered. It would be a game-sealing touchdown.

  William was on him. He didn’t bother searching for the ball. It would be in the air. Faster. He had to close. Anger fueled adrenaline. Faster! William took an angle and ran flat out.

  The Archbishop wide receiver looked back. His arms rose into position, ready to cradle the catch.

  William jumped up with arms raised. He felt an impact as the ball bounced off his hands. The wide-receiver’s eyes widened. He was still looking up. The ball was still in the air. Still in play. William shoved the wide receiver to the ground and spun about. A flicker at the corner of his vision. He reached out, and the ball landed in his hands.

  Before him lay a wide open field.

  William took off down the sideline. His heart pumped. His cleats dug in, and he ran flat out.
His teammates set up blocks. They smashed aside the Archbishop players who desperately tried to bring him down.

  William dodged or plowed through tackles until only two players remained. He slammed to a stop, and one Archbishop player flew past him. He spun, and the other player’s hands slipped off him. The way to the end zone stood clear.

  William ran the last few yards untouched and unopposed. He spiked the ball and roared triumph. His teammates mobbed him. They screamed wordlessly and thumped his helmet and shoulders.

  St. Francis had the lead, and two minutes and twelve seconds later, the game was over.

  William was mobbed by his team and the student body. St. Francis had won the city championship and would be advancing to the playoffs.

  The next day, All Saints Day, everyone’s schedule worked out so that after a long month of football practice and games, William finally had time to hang out with his friends and go to the movies.

  “What are we seeing?” Lien asked when they arrived at the dollar cinema.

  “Highlander,” William said.

  “There can be only one,” Daniel quoted.

  “Not another boy movie,” Lien protested. “Why can’t we see Peggy Sue Got Married?”

  “Because Peggy Sue doesn’t have cool swords and immortals,” Jason said.

  “I thought we were seeing a movie about Scottish people,” Serena said, looking confused. “Isn’t that why it’s called Highlander?”

  William gave her a double-take. She’d never heard of Highlander? “Are you serious?”

  “Well . . . yeah,” Serena said. “I thought it would be something about Scots.”

  “It is, and it isn’t,” Jason enthused. “You’ll love it.”

  “Only if you’re a nerd,” Lien muttered.

  “Hey! I like Highlander,” Daniel said.

  “And like I said, if you’re a nerd.”

  Jason laughed. “You set yourself up for that one.”

  “I’m a nerd,” Serena quietly announced.

  “No, you’re not,” William scoffed. “If there’s a bright center to nerdom, you’re about the farthest from it.”

  “Then there are supernova nerds who mangle lines from Star Wars,” Lien said.

  “Or the ones who know the lines to begin with,” Daniel replied to Lien. “Who’s the nerd now, eh?”

  Lien tried to backhand Daniel on the shoulder, but she ended up hitting Jason.

  “Watch it!” Jason said.

  “Sorry. I was trying to hit Daniel.”

  “Well, aim better next time.”

  “Maybe I’m not a nerd,” Serena said, “but I do like nerds.” She smiled at William as she spoke, and her eyes glowed with that intensity he’d grown used to seeing.

  William smiled back, and he knew what he should do, what everyone expected him to do, but for whatever reason he didn’t want to. Not only because he had an audience—his friends—but something else, something he couldn’t understand. Serena was beautiful, smart, and funny. She’d already declared her interest in him, and he had most definitely been interested in her, but now . . .

  A few days ago, a warning bell had gone off in his head, a sense that something wasn’t right, either about Serena or her interest in him. He couldn’t shake the feeling no matter how stupid it seemed.

  Serena didn’t seem to notice his troubled thoughts. She hummed “Gloria” as they entered the theater.

  “So, what did you think of Highlander?” William asked Serena as they left the theater.

  “I’m still trying to figure it out,” she replied. “It wasn’t what I expected.”

  “Anyone want pizza?” Daniel asked. “I’m hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry,” Lien said.

  “Then you don’t want any?” William asked.

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “Then we’re going to LaRosa’s,” William said.

  They climbed into the T-Bird, and a few turns and a couple of minutes later, they wheeled into the parking lot of a small, white building from which a delicious aroma emanated. The place was packed, but sooner than William expected they had seats and food.

  “This is really good,” Serena said after her first bite.

  “Cincinnati has crappy weather, but it does have good eats,” Daniel said.

  “I know,” Lien said. “And Serena probably hasn’t even tried Montgomery Inn.” She brightened. “You should take her there someday,” she suggested to William. “She’ll love it. It could be your first date.”

  William almost coughed up his mouthful of pizza and shot Lien a glare.

  She smiled sweetly back. “Did I say something wrong?”

  Yes, you said something wrong.

  “No, you didn’t say anything wrong,” Serena replied to Lien. She turned to William. “I would love to have dinner with you . . . as long as it isn’t Cincinnati chili.”

  “No Cincinnati chili,” William agreed.

  “What’s wrong with Cincinnati chili?” Jason asked.

  “It’s spaghetti sauce pretending to be chili,” Serena said with a wrinkle of her nose. “Real chili is Texas style.”

  “If you like chili-flavored tomatoes,” William said.

  “Really?” Serena asked in an arch tone. “That’s what you think of Texas-style?”

  “I try not to think about it,” William said. “It’s not worth wasting the brainpower.”

  “And you definitely need every last ounce of your brainpower,” Serena said. “You’re running on fumes.”

  “Ooh. She got you,” Daniel chortled.

  “Why don’t we just agree to disagree,” William said to Serena.

  “Can’t keep up with me?” she asked with an arch of her eyebrows.

  “I could, but my mother always told me to never pick an argument with a pretty lady.” Which was true.

  Serena grinned. “Compliments will get you out of most any problem,” she said. “But even if I don’t like your chili, I do like Glier’s Goetta.”

  “When did you try Glier’s?” Jason asked.

  “I get around,” Serena told him. “While you were off doing football things, I went out and discovered the city.”

  “Have you discovered the downtown library?” Lien asked.

  “No,” Serena replied. “Why?”

  “If you like books, it’s like walking through the gates of heaven,” Lien said with a faraway expression in her eyes.

  Serena lifted her brows. “Really? And do you need a cigarette when you’re done?”

  “What?” Lien asked in confusion.

  Everyone else chuckled.

  “Never mind,” Serena said. “Maybe we can all go there sometime.”

  “Sure,” William said. “We can even go to the zoo, if you want. Make a day of it downtown.”

  Serena smiled. “I’d like that.”

  Jason wore a shit-eating grin.

  William scowled at him. “What’s so funny?”

  “Nothing,” Jason said. He made a whipping sound that only William could hear.

  “Shut up,” William said with a roll of his eyes. Jason had no idea what was going on, but whatever. “Did you ever figure out what you thought of Highlander?” he asked Serena.

  “I liked it,” she replied. “It was sad, though, especially when Connor held his dying wife in his arms and described the Highlands.”

  “That scene always gets me, too,” Lien said.

  “I thought you didn’t like Highlander,” Jason said.

  Lien graced him with pitying glance.

  “You’re back later than I expected,” Isha said when Serena arrived home.

  “We went out for pizza after the movie, sir,” Serena explained.

  “I take it you aren’t hungry, then?”

  “No, sir. I doubt I could stomach another bite at this point.”

  “Are you also too tired and too full of pizza to train?”

  Serena was tired and full. All she really wanted to do was to go to bed, but to admit to eit
her would be admitting weakness. “I’m ready whenever you are, sir,” she said. “Should I change first?”

  “Would an enemy allow you to do so?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Then, after you.” Isha gestured to the stairs leading down to the basement.

  Serena went first, alert in case he decided that training would begin before they reached the basement. Sometimes he was like that, attacking when least expected. However, this time Serena reached the bottom of the stairs without incident.

  The basement floor was covered by a thick, black mat and lit by fluorescent lights that illuminated the mostly empty space with a stark whiteness. The brightness removed all shadows.

  “Your interactions with these others continues to show in your carriage and your mannerisms,” Isha noted.

  Serena had an inkling of what he meant, but she couldn't afford to allow him to believe she possessed such a weakness. “I don't know to what you refer," she said, keeping her expression bland.

  Isha paused. He must have noticed the tension in her posture. “You’ve changed.”

  “What do you think this supposed change indicates?” Serena asked. Rather than deny his charges she did as he had always taught her: shift the focus of the conversation toward the other person and subtly interrogate them.

  Isha didn’t answer at first. Instead, he warmed up, doing stretches, lunges, pushups, and pull-ups.

  Serena followed suit.

  “In my time in the Far Abroad, I’ve seen many things,” Isha said, seeming to choose his words carefully. “Some things have been amusing, others pathetic, and a few have made me wish . . . Some have made me wish for something you and I can never have.”

  Serena paused in mid-stretch, surprised by Isha’s openness. “What do you wish for?”

  Isha didn’t answer. Instead, he attacked.

  Serena angled away from his punches and checked a kick. He snapped a jab. Serena tried to weave aside, but the punch clipped her cheek. She kept circling before she suddenly changed directions.

  She stepped in with a straight right, and missed. Isha shot forward and tried to grapple with her. Serena pushed him off, and partially connected with a right hook on the break.