The Fractured Fallen (A Dark Fantasy Horror): The Edge of Reflection Book 4

by Carver Pike

  A calm came over her as Vision left his brother lying on the ground and approached her. He walked with such strong confidence, with such a beautiful grace. His white hair flowed around him and his magnificent face, like a handsome sculpture carved out of flawless stone, seemed unconcerned. His lack of fear gave her hope and she reached out to him as he grew closer. He took her hands in his.

  “Mom,” he said.

  “Vision, baby.”

  She pulled free of his grasp and touched his face, letting her fingertips trace the curves from his eyes down his cheek. He was her son and she loved him. His transformation was so strange, but still, he was Vision.

  She wanted to cry, remembering how happy she was to be a mother and how happy Gabe had been to be a father. They’d planned a new life together. She’d never gotten the chance to see it through. The boys had gone from cooing to killing in a matter of days.

  “I don’t know where to hide you,” Vision told her. “But inside is safer than outside.”

  Even his voice seemed smooth and wise.

  “You’re an angel,” she said.

  He smiled at her and she knew everything would be okay.

  “Hide. And do not trust Vincent.”

  He turned and walked back out into the storm.

  ***

  Gabe felt like he was in the middle of a medieval battle to overthrow a castle. Foes seemed to come from every direction, and this time, unlike the last few fights he’d been in, they all seemed human. He’d just shot one of the general’s soldiers in the forehead, and he’d half expected the man to turn into some sort of strange beast, but he didn’t. He just died like any other man would with a bullet in his brain.

  Gabe hadn’t seen the general himself, but he suspected the man was hunkered down in the shadows somewhere, barking out orders.

  Gabe’s allies fought with all their heart. Hawks was firing at another soldier from a crouched position. Ayana was shooting arrows, one right after the other. He saw her race to yank a few of them out of fallen foes. She fought with graceful fluidity mixed with animalistic rage.

  “Cutter!” Gabe heard.

  Hearing that name was never good. Everyone who’d ever met Gabe’s insane image seemed to want him dead. And he was dead. So hearing the name now seemed oddly out of place.

  He turned to find the source of the voice and saw the leader of the butchers who’d attacked the gypsy camp striding toward him, his sword raised and ready. This was the clan that had attacked his village and killed Haylay and Twig and the others.

  “Motherfucker,” Gabe said as he pointed his gun and fired, just to hear the dreaded CLICK of the empty chamber.

  He quickly scoured the ground around him and found a sword in a dead man’s hand. He wasn’t the best at sword fighting, but it would have to do. He brought the sword up just in time to block his attacker’s downward cut. The powerful blow knocked Gabe backwards.

  “Who are you?” Gabe asked.

  “I’m your end!” the leader of warrior militia yelled as he swung his sword again.

  This time Gabe jumped out of the way and rolled across the ground, losing his sword in the process.

  ***

  Hawks fought so hard that he nearly forgot what he was fighting for. Flashes of his wife and his brother and grandfather and Savage Bear came to him in rapid fire, one right after the other. Rage flowed through his veins and seemed to grab his bones, forcing his hands to kill every attacker in sight.

  For a second, he thought this must be what it felt like for an image. The uncontrollable urge to kill was so intense that it wasn’t until he saw Ayana crumpled up on the ground that he was brought back to reality. She was hurt and he needed to help her. She was his woman. He’d claimed her, and more importantly, he loved her.

  Ayana was tough as nails. He knew that already. So whatever was hurting her had to be seriously intense. Hawks crawled over, scooped her up in his arms and carried her to the side of a car where she would be somewhat hidden. He brushed a strand of sweaty hair from her eyes and tucked it behind her ear. Her lips trembled.

  “Where are you hurt?” he asked.

  “Inside,” she answered. “I tried to help Vision. I reached for Vincent and he touched me. He…he just touched me. That’s all. He didn’t punch or squeeze…he just touched. And then he whispered to me. He said that I’ll be a mother now.”

  “I have to find someone to help you.”

  “It hurts so bad.”

  From where they were kneeling, Hawks could see Vincent walking toward Vision.

  “I’ll be right back,” he said.

  Ayana craned her neck and saw what had captured Hawks’ interest. She shook her head.

  “No,” she argued. “He’s too powerful. He’ll kill you.”

  “What he’s done to you may kill you.”

  “Then stay with me ‘till the end.”

  She closed her eyes and winced against the pain.

  “I’ll be back,” Hawks insisted. “He did this to you, and I’ll make him undo it.”

  He pulled out his second tomahawk hatchet and spun both of them around in his hands.

  ***

  Lisa hid behind the couch, the only hiding spot she could find, and watched as Vision stood just outside the doors, facing his brother.

  A soldier tried to grab him and cuff his arms behind his back, but Vincent grabbed the man’s wrists and yanked, pulling both arms from their sockets. He dropped the screaming man and once again focused on Vision, or was he focused on her? Either way, Lisa was beginning to feel the fear she’d been lacking earlier. He’d just ripped off a man’s arms and continued on as if it were no big deal.

  As she watched her sons, the strong and calm Vision stood with his arms folded in front of his chest, blocking the malevolent Vincent. They were both right in front of her, the babies she’d prayed so hard for. How could a mother wish ill-will on either of her sons? This was a nightmare from which she couldn’t wake. She wished so badly she could cradle them in her arms again. It was so hard to believe the two infants that had been cooing just days before were waging war on one another.

  As she watched the standoff, she wondered what thoughts must be going through their minds. Vision didn’t seem hateful. Even when he was fighting his brother, he just seemed to be going through the motions. It didn’t look as if he enjoyed inflicting pain. It seemed Vision was always the reaction to Vincent’s action.

  Vincent, on the other hand, seemed to thoroughly enjoy being mean. He seemed to love causing pain and suffering. Lisa realized Vision was the only thing standing between her and Vincent’s wrath.

  “Leave her alone,” Vision’s voice echoed off the walls.

  “What? She’s my mom too.” Vincent approached, slowly, methodically.

  “I’m warning you to stay back.”

  Lisa watched as Vincent burst forward, moving at a blinding speed, much faster than any human should be able to run. He jumped and kicked Vision in his chest. Vision’s feet flew out form under him, and he flipped through the air before landing hard on the floor. He rolled and got up quickly, then scowled at his brother. They were both just inside the lobby now and Lisa could only watch helplessly from behind the couch.

  Vincent attacked again, but this time Vision saw it coming and moved out of the way. He grabbed Vincent’s kicking leg, held on to it, and swung him around, launching him through the air and into the mirror hanging on the wall.

  Vincent’s head and chest sank into the mirror as if it were a puddle of water, while his lower body crashed into the wall below the frame.

  Vision ran to him and grabbed the back of his robe, pulling him back before he’d have the chance to escape through the portal. Vincent’s upper body fell from the mirror, but clutched in his hand was a glass vase he’d pulled out from the other side. He smashed it against Vision’s forehead and shoved his fair-haired brother’s face through the mirror.

  They thrashed around violently, going back and forth into the mirror; arms, legs,
heads, all sinking into and yanking back out of the liquid glass.

  Lisa wanted to help Vision, but she knew she didn’t stand a chance against Vincent. She could only stand by helplessly and watch.

  Vision finally pulled his head back out of the mirror, just in time for Vincent’s powerful fist to strike his jaw. While Vision staggered, Vincent grabbed him by the back of his head, grabbed a handful of hair, and threw his brother through the mirror.

  Vision disappeared into the liquefied glass. Lisa tripped over the bunched up rug in a desperate attempt to get away from Vincent. She fell on her ass and stared up at her devilish son approaching.

  Vision was gone. She was terrified.

  Suddenly, Vision dove through the mirror face first with an office lamp in his hand and landed on Vincent’s back. He smashed the lamp against his brother’s head and wrapped the cord around his neck. As a mother, Lisa worried for both of her boys, but knew that, for the sake of all of them, Vision needed to win this battle.

  Vincent flipped Vision off his back and onto the floor, but Vision was quick. He reached out and karate chopped Vincent’s throat, making the dark twin choke and cough. Vision lashed out with a violent kick at his brother’s groin. His foot landed with so much power that Vincent came off his feet. Then he grabbed the back of Vincent’s head and slammed his knee into his evil brother’s face. Vincent groaned and covered his face with his hands.

  “You’re weaker than you thought, brother,” Vision said.

  Vincent stood with a roar that seemed to shove its way through the gory mess coming from his nose, spraying bloody bubbles onto Vision’s white cloak. Vision didn’t have time to react as Vincent grabbed both of Vision’s thighs, curled his hands around them, and lifted. He ran at the mirror full speed, with Vision in his arms, and leapt through it.

  Both boys were gone. Lisa stood frozen, shocked. She knew it wasn’t over. One of them would come back through the mirror, but who would it be?

  Hawks ran into the building.

  “Lisa!” he shouted.

  She pointed at the mirror, but fumbled for the words to explain what had happened. As she tried to explain, Vision fell out of the mirror and into Hawks’ arms, coming only inches away from falling face first onto one of the warrior’s hatchet blades. Hawks helped him to his feet.

  “Lisa?” Vision asked.

  “Over here,” she called out.

  Vision smiled and nodded.

  “Where did Vincent go?” Hawks asked.

  “We must leave,” Vision insisted. “There is only one way to stop him, and that won’t happen today.”

  “You need to find the jewels,” Hawks said.

  Vision looked surprised.

  “Oddity told you all about it?” he asked.

  “I saw it all,” Hawks informed him.

  “Yes, we must find the jewels.”

  ***

  Changeling stood behind a wooden beam and watched from the shadows. Slither seemed to have the upper hand on the man who’d said his name was Tact. He looked to be in pretty bad shape with his leg out at that awkward angle. Slither had always been a skilled assassin, and Changeling was sure that this fight was over.

  His body changed to that of a woman, and with his legs squeezed closed, he felt a slight shock between them. The excitement of a good fight always made her horny. Him horny now, as his body changed once again.

  At one point in time he’d had a hard time controlling the emotional changes that went with constant morphing from a woman to man and back to a woman. If he had to choose one gender, he might choose the woman. She was always a little classier and more refined, whereas the man side of him had brutish thoughts.

  He usually let the two genders swap freely, as it took so much energy to stay in one form. He chose to use that energy during sex, where he enjoyed being a woman the most. He only thought of himself as a him because that’s what everyone always seemed to refer to him as. He, him, and that odd son of a bitch were the titles that seemed to follow him around the most.

  As Changeling watched Slither poised to attack, he considered stepping in to assist, but there was still a chance that the crazed brawler could win the fight. It was a slight chance, but it was still a chance, so he decided to wait and see the outcome.

  He’d grown tired of Slither and Viking and thought that maybe if both of his sidekicks perished in this battle, he might be able to somehow slip away from Lord Shiva’s clutches, and live out his life as a solo artist. He’d always wanted to be a hired assassin on his own.

  Changeling put his hand between his legs and rubbed at his groin, getting aroused as he watched Slither raise his sword, ready to bring it down. The man on the ground moved with a quick fury, throwing something at Slither’s stomach. It was sharp and shiny and from the look on Slither’s face, it seemed to bring a world of pain with it when it sunk into his gut.

  He fell to his knees and grasped at his stomach, trying to remove the blade, but it was buried deep. Tact was on him in an instant, straddling him, and raining down punches. Slither’s hands came up in defense, but it was pointless. Tact was too quick and too brutal. Slither’s neck gave out and his head dropped to the floor, his tongue lolling out.

  Changeling decided it was time to step out of the shadows and meet Tact fact to face. The man was quick, but Changeling knew he could take him. Killing the man wasn’t the plan though. He’d decided that it might be advantageous to recruit him to his team. Changeling spun a double-bladed bow staff around in his hands. He loved the weapon. It was his favorite.

  Tact was still straddling Slither, oblivious to Changeling’s presence. He could’ve easily killed the man right there, but that wasn’t his style. Slither was the silent assassin, and Viking was the loud, crazy one. Changeling was somewhere in the middle. He didn’t like taking the easy way out; he liked to fight with dignity and honor.

  Tact’s chest heaved up and down as he fought to control his breath after throwing so many punches. Changeling liked the way the sweaty man huffed and puffed.

  “Fuckin’ punk!” Tact said.

  Changeling held his staff under his arm and clapped his hands together.

  “Bravo, my champion. Very impressive,” he said in his manly voice.

  Changeling felt his face change back to womanly form and saw the confusion on Tact’s face.

  “The fuck are you?” he asked.

  Changeling pointed his bladed staff at Slither.

  “Looks like we’re two men short. First the Viking and now Slither. You could join the team, you know?”

  Tact just stared back with squinted eyes.

  “You’re actually kind of handsome,” Changeling said in a sexy voice.

  “I’ve seen some shit in my life,” Tact said. “But this is fuckin’ ridiculous.”

  “What do you mean?” she asked. “Don’t you like what you see?” Her face morphed back into a man’s. “Lord Shiva pays very well, and I could use a brawler like you. This fucker is as good as dead.”

  Tact laughed and kicked Slither’s foot.

  “I’m pretty sure he is dead,” the brawler said.

  “Nice job. Wanna join up?” Changeling asked.

  “Fuck you,” Tact said. “I ain’t nobody’s bitch boy, Dolly Parton.”

  Dolly Parton? Changeling didn’t quite understand Tact’s words. He didn’t know whether he should be mad or honored.

  “I don’t understand that reference,” Changeling’s manly voice said, “but it sounds like an insult, which tells me we’re not friends.”

  He had hoped it wouldn’t come to this, but he realized now that there was no hope this gypsy piece of shit would join the clan. The Clan. Changeling decided right then that if neither Slither nor Viking survived, that name would have to fucking go. That would be a task for later though. Right now was time to put this bum out of his misery.

  Changeling stared down at his feet, holding perfectly still. Then, with amazing speed, he flung one of his spiked ball weapons at Tact. Tact was
much faster than expected. He caught the wire with the muzzle of his gun and swung it back at Changeling, who blocked it with his staff.

  Changeling leapt high into the air and swung the bladed staff right at Tact’s face. Tact jumped backwards, trying to avoid the blade, and hit the edge of the ship. He was moving so quickly that he pitched right over the railing and tumbled over the side. Changeling landed in a crouched position and looked up, shocked. He raised his eyebrows and then his shoulders, in a confused shrug.