Adam looked up skeptically as he was handed a bottle. "Bri, it's a Heineken Light."
"All right, big guy, if you think you've got it under control." He glanced at Scarlet, laughing. "He used to get so fucking mad when I came to rehearsal drunk. Threatening to beat the shit out of me. 'I play way better when I'm fucking wrecked!' I'd tell him. Yeah, right, like he could take me anyway."
Adam suppressed a sigh as he opened his beer. Good to see Brian hadn't changed a bit. Granted, he didn't remember quite this much needling, but then again, rose-colored glasses and all that.
Brian handed Scarlet a beer before relaxing back on the couch and smirking at Adam. "So, what you been up to, besides drawing big titty anime girls? Making any music?"
"Eh, here and there. I've helped write a few things for Dead Thing and Clo, but my own stuff has kind of slowed down. What about you?"
"Oh, yeah, DT's new band. What's it called again?"
"Powerburial. Clottia has—"
"I don't know, man, DT's always relied so heavily on drum kits and stuff, I feel like he wouldn't need you to help him."
Dead Thing had actually been using gender-neutral pronouns for a few years, now ... but maybe Brian didn't remember, or hadn't seen them posting about it. Or maybe he just wasn’t used to it. After a pause, Adam decided to proceed as normal. "I'm sure they and Clottia have a ton of people to bounce stuff off of in LA. It feels kinda good that they still ask me for advice and stuff. I haven't seen them in person since Mikey's—"
"Can't relate, bro." Brian took a deep sip of his beer. "Clottia blocked me on Twitter like a year ago ’cause of some Harambe meme I retweeted."
Adam wasn't even sure what to say to that, so he just shrugged and asked again, "What have you been up to, though?"
"Y'know, whatever. I got laid off last year, so I basically had to start over at a new company. That was fun." Brian rolled his eyes. "I guess you kinda had to do that when you got kicked out of your cubicle, huh?"
"Yeah, I mean, I quit, but pretty much. I'm sorry that happened to you, dude. That means more time with your own band, though, right?"
"Nah." He took another long sip and pulled a face. "We broke up like six months ago. Our other guitarist left and they wanted to hire some chick who had no idea what the fuck she was doing."
"Hm?"
"It was a thirst thing. She was a major slut. And a crazy-ass bitch, so, yeah ... there was basically this whole big fight and they— and we broke up."
Adam still hadn't taken a sip of his beer, and the more he listened to Brian, the less he wanted to. The discomfort level had been rising steadily since he'd stepped into the apartment. Either Brian didn't notice or didn't care—or maybe he was trying to save face by acting like a tough guy. Whatever the issue, he was being a total dick.
Adam glanced at his phone. Had it really only been eight minutes? "What else has been goin' on?"
"Eh." Brian shrugged. "By the time I get home from work, I'm so fucking tired I don't have energy to do anything. Except bitch on the internet, I guess."
At least Adam could partially relate to that. He nodded a little. "Yeah, I don't miss that. The tiredness. I'd kind of just get home and play World of Warcraft until it was time for bed." He smiled. "I guess I sometimes still do that on my days off."
"I remember, dude. Oh my fuckin’ god, you were a mess." Brian laughed, then turned sour a second later. "At least you got to sit at a desk and jerk off all day. Most of my time is just moving shit around and cleaning up other peoples' fucking messes. And management’s got cameras fucking everywhere, so I can't even take two seconds to check my phone or smoke or whatever. The higher-ups are garbage."
Okay, now he was talking. Adam tried to forget the comments he'd made a moment ago and focused instead on the topic at hand—one he was intimately familiar with. "Yeah, my company used to have this software where they monitored everything you did on the computer. I mean, I was usually working, it was just ... annoying to know they didn't trust us."
"Right? I work my fucking ass off." Brian sank into the couch a bit more. When he spoke again, frustration shone through his tone. "I swear, it's like a ... like an epidemic or something. It’s not s’posed to be like this, man. Nothing is ever for us anymore."
Adam tilted his head. "For us?"
"You know, people like you and me. We get treated like shit and we're expected to just take it."
Adam still wasn't following him. Was he talking about class, or what? "Well, you know, punk is making a comeback."
"Not punk, dildo," Brian said with a snort. "Just ... you know."
"I ... don’t think I do, man."
"You know! Us." He sighed. "You know, like, all these things they're forcing into the media now."
Still perplexed, Adam struggled to find the words. "Uh ... can you give me some examples?"
"Just, like ... all those soy boys triggered about how you can't have a fifth gender or whatever in video games. Having to get women in on everything now, even if they’re dumb as rocks. Affirmative action and that diversity quota shit." The words were spilling from him now. "Did you know I applied to a job that was the exact same as the one I had before, different company? But two Jews and some Black chick were in the running, too, so I obviously didn't get it."
Oh. What. The. Fuck.
Adam's voice caught in his throat, gaze searching his friend's angry, sour expression. Had he actually heard that? He'd never considered Brian the most rational man in existence, but….
"I … um." Adrift, Adam glanced at Scarlet, hoping she'd throw him a life preserver. But she was simply observing them, her expression impassive. He looked back at Brian. "That's, uh … Bri, I get you're frustrated, but that's not cool, man."
Brian shrugged, trying to look nonchalant. "Maybe I'm tired of being cool, Adam. I'm tired of pretending everything's fine when it's not. It just keeps getting harder and harder to get by."
"Yeah, it does. But I don’t think those things are why." Adam frowned, voice soft. "Don’t talk like that, man, that's fucked up."
"You only think that because you're scared of being canceled or whatever. The media is brainwashing people to believe all that crap so it's socially acceptable for the minority to take over. They literally wanna wipe us out."
Adam couldn't do anything but stare at him in horror. He'd tried to empathize, but this was more than off-color remarks. This was something … else.
"Where are you getting all this?" he asked carefully. "You've never said any of this stuff to me before. We would've beat your ass in the nineties."
"Yeah, Adam. We would have. But I've grown up." Brian clamped his jaw tight and crossed his arms awkwardly, drink still in one hand. "I've been tired of all this garbage for a long time, but I couldn't say anything, because I was afraid. Not anymore, though."
"Not afraid to do what, be a total dick?”
"And now I have people who actually understand what I'm going through." Brian sat up a little straighter, setting his beer on the coffee table. His eyes were alight as he turned to Adam. "You should talk to some of my guys, or listen to this podcast some of our admins have. They make a lot of sense, man, you'd be surprised."
"Who exactly are your ‘guys’?"
"It's this forum I joined a while back. They're called the Blood Eagles. They meet up in NYC, so we could even go to a rally or something together. Remember when we used to do that?" he added with a laugh. A laugh. Like everything about this situation was completely normal.
"Those were protests, Brian. To keep us in our homes."
"We're being driven out of our homes, aren't we? All the Muslims and Mexicans they’re bringing in and shit." Brian turned his hands palms up, looking like Adam was the one being irrational. "Bro, you know you're struggling with the exact same shit. Even if you don't know it, we're all going down together. The degenerates don't give a damn about you, so why are you so obsessed with pandering to them?"
"Degenerates?"
"Yeah."
&n
bsp; "Okay, explain to me exactly what is degenerate to you."
"Someone who's weighing on society." That casual tone again. "Retards. Fats. Pronouns. Thots. Illegals. We've got welfare queens and pedophiles looking after kids—"
Adam stood, staring down at Brian's smug face. He could barely form a coherent sentence through the heartbreak: "Stop. Talking."
Brian glared. “What, too close to home? Since when did you turn into such a—”
"I don't want to meet your friends, I don't want to go to your rallies. You and I have nothing in common. Okay? So shut the fuck up."
Scarlet hadn't said anything this whole time, simply sipping her beer and listening. The few times Adam had tried to catch her eye and pull her into the conversation, she'd only smiled politely and gone back to her drink. Now, however, she cleared her throat. As Adam turned to look at her, she touched his elbow.
"Ignore him," she purred, gently pulling him back down to a sitting position and scooting a little closer. "We both know this isn't about any of that, right?"
"Excuse me?"
Scarlet tilted her head thoughtfully, pursing her lips. "The people who set this all up thought maybe you'd respond better to the plight of an old friend. Relate to the things he said. But you’re different, it seems." She smiled. "You don't play games. I can respect that. I don't either. So why don't we get to the heart of the matter?"
Adam shook his head. "What do you mean someone set this up? What are you talking about?" He glanced at Brian. The man was sitting with his arms crossed, clearly pissed she’d cut him off.
"Let me frame this another way." Scarlet rose and sat instead on the coffee table, right in front of him. "I assume your new friends have told you about the Gloaming?"
This woman certainly commanded his attention. But when she mentioned the Gloaming, Adam swore he saw something flicker behind her—in the doorway of the kitchen, perhaps. A dark shape. He searched for it for a moment before looking back at her.
"I'll take that as a yes.” She crossed her legs, drumming her fingers on her knees. "I'm not sure what they told you, but let me assure you, the truth is much more complex."
"You kill people," Adam murmured nervously. "You're the reason Anster is going nuts."
"I know it sounds scary, Adam. But certain sacrifices have to be made to establish ourselves as the ruling faction. We must rule if anyone is going to survive what's coming our way." She shrugged. "It's as simple as that. Perhaps it seems bad now, but if we win, things will get better for everyone. Even normal humans. But..."
"But ... what?"
"We have to act fast. Fate isn't going to sit and wait for us. Our leader, the Wounded, rubbed out the old Gloaming well enough, but all this opposition from the Aurora and now the Reach ... it's slowing us down."
Adam gritted his teeth. "What— what exactly is coming that you think you need to prepare for?”
"I can't say. There are rumors, but I couldn't tell you, truthfully." She leaned back. "But regardless, you're special. A hellerune. The Wounded has been looking for a hellerune to help him lead. Do you understand? You could help us bring order. You could save people."
He said nothing.
"Adam," she said, tone slightly harsher, "you've been nothing but powerless your whole life. Your father … your career … that desk job? Karen? Mikey? Don't you want to control your own fate for once?"
…Didn’t he?
"I—" That shadow again, flickering across the wall behind her. What the hell was that?
"Once we saved the world, you'd be a hero. You'd be loved. The Wounded would protect you, make it easy for you." Scarlet threw a disdainful look in Brian's direction. "You would never even have to interact with Daschla’s Blood Eagles."
"I..." Adam rose, and was silent for a moment before shaking his head, setting his beer aside. "I don't care if you think you're gonna save the world. After the things you've done, I'm not interested. Sorry."
He made a move to scoot past her, but she grabbed the sleeve of his jacket. Her expression had turned cold. "If you go now, you'll be making the biggest mistake of your life. If you stay with the Reach, you and all your friends will die."
Adam wrenched his arm away, and as he did, he noticed another shadow whisk across the wall—not attached to anything, it seemed. It distracted him for a half second before he returned his gaze to Scarlet, backing away toward the door.
"I'll ask you one more time," she said, rising after him. "Will you join us, or will you lose your life?"
Brian interjected: "Just do what she says, man!"
"No!" Adam snapped. "The answer is no!"
The woman's expression cleared. She didn't look angry so much as focused, her eyes boring frigid holes into him. "Fine. If that's your final answer, then I'm afraid I can't let you leave."
Before Adam even registered the words, she was on him. A millisecond later, he was on his back on the floor. Her cold fingers wrapped around his throat, squeezing.
He tried to buck her off him, but her body was like a lead weight—the strength with which she was strangling him seemed almost impossible. Too late, he realized that she must not be human.
Desperately, he jerked his head to look at Brian, in a vain attempt to yell for help. The man had risen from the couch but was frozen, simply watching the scene in front of him. A couple seconds later, he snapped out of his trance, but he ran from the room instead of pulling Scarlet off.
Adam's well-honed fight-or-flight instinct was the only thing spurring him on as adrenaline pumped through his body, giving strength to muscles that admittedly didn't get much use. With a croak, he managed to throw Scarlet off-balance, and they tumbled across the carpet together until he found himself on top of her. He scurried backward and tried to pick himself up, but she recovered with preternatural quickness, grabbing a fistful of his hair.
Planting her feet, she stood above him, yanking his head back and forcing him to look at her face. She opened her mouth, and he had no choice but to watch as all her teeth elongated till she had a jaw full of railroad spikes.
Panic screamed through his body. Even before Scarlet secured her other hand around his throat again, his world began to blacken, limbs numbed; he couldn't feel his face, and no matter how wide he opened his eyes, he could barely see. Darkness enveloped him.
And then, just behind her head ... that shadow again. That flick of solid shadow that had been dancing at the edges of his vision for a while now—
She faltered. Something caused her to cry out, and when she did, her grip loosened. He couldn’t stop to wonder why; there was no time. He reacted instantaneously. The darkness clouding his head drained from him all at once, flowing down his arm and coalescing in his hand.
With a blast of deep purple energy, Scarlet was thrown away from him.
The lights in the room went out like snuffed candles as Scarlet hit the wall to the left of the bedroom door, shaking the whole apartment. Black and purple shadows curled off her skin like flames. She slumped, struggling to move for a few seconds, and by the time she scrabbled to her hands and knees, the shadows had spread to her face, clinging to her eyes.
Adam watched in awe as she rubbed at them, screeching, frantically trying to get her sight back. But there was little time to marvel at what he'd done—next to her, the bedroom door flew open, and Brian emerged, leading with the muzzle of a semi-automatic rifle.
The moment they locked eyes, that shadow flickered again. Now that he was more aware of his surroundings, Adam could perceive it properly: a solid black shape, angular, with a tail like a comet. It swirled around his body, and suddenly, he somehow knew that he had created it.
It was his to command.
With a flick of his wrist, the shadow hit the floor and slid across it, slipping under Brian's feet.
The man yelped and staggered. Gunfire ran out. Bullets sprayed the floor and wall, shattering a window. But the shadow was undeterred. Adam gaped as the silhouette of a human form sprang from the shadow’s depths and jerk
ed Brian into a choke hold.
With another sharp yank, the silhouette forced him to drop his rifle and then quickly had him on the floor, either dead or unconscious. When the shadow straightened to look at Adam, he recognized the shape of it. Leather jacket, chin-length hair…
Himself.
In the back of his mind, a voice echoed. Not his own voice—or … not a him he recognized: Get ’em, killer.
The shape was gone as quickly as it had appeared, melting back into the shadowy spot on the floor. Then the shadow was gone altogether, and Adam was left alone with his two attackers.
Scarlet clawed at the wall, dragging herself to her feet. As she did, she scented the air. Her voice ground like a demon's: "I may not be able to see you, but I can still smell you..."
Sure enough, she turned toward him and broke into a sprint, teeth bared.
He dodged, but she caught him by the elbow, throwing him into a spin that sent him careening into the nearest wall. The force of the impact made him see stars.
That was it. Something about the sudden pain, the sting of his face and shoulder hitting the wall, stirred a hatred in his chest that was too sharp too quickly for him to contain it. The violent heat of it was frightening, and yet as he turned—as he thrust his arms toward her and let wave after wave of lethal shadow magic batter her—the feeling fed him.
Kill the bitch. Kill the bitch. Break her apart, feed ’er to the ground. He lashed his arms like whips, anger unrelenting, feverish to throw more magic at her. But the shadows only escaped him in bursts, imprecise explosions that marred the walls and furniture.
This wild magic only lasted a few seconds before he felt so weak he could hardly stand up. The loud crashing and sizzling of the shadows disappeared. The horrible voice ricocheting around his skull disappeared. The world was silent save for distant shouts and police sirens.
Adam panted and staggered to the side, barely registering Scarlet sprawled across the floor or the writhing shadows coating her body.
Unholy Spirit (The Necromancer's Daughter Book 3) Page 15