In Eden's Shadow

by Amanda Churi

  “…To what measure, sir?” Embry queried with caution.

  His response was not immediate. “Beyond what you will find acceptable on my part, but I urge you to look past your design and try to understand.”

  “I can only do so if you built me with the capabilities necessary to bypass the words of which you are preparing to expel.”

  He turned back to the black expanse above him. “Seems we may be at a bit of a crossroad then.”

  “Wait, wait, hold up,” Griffin exclaimed. “I don’t understand what you’re talking about, Justus. I know that the Encryption, heck, definitely I have made it rough for you lately… And I’m sorry… But that doesn’t mean that we should just turn our backs on them and try to fight the Proxez alone! If a body as large as the Encryption struggles, what makes you think that a squad of three can even make a dent?”

  Justus raised his brows to his apprentice, flat-faced. “Did I say I was going to fight them?”

  “Um…” Embarrassed, Griffin reverted to his hunchback form. “W-well, no, I guess not… But then what are you planning?”

  Justus’ brown eyes lightened. “Something.”

  The evasive responses were starting to get to Griffin. “Ah, come off it, will you? Just what are you—?!”

  An aggressive tightening at the wrist cut off Griffin’s speech, his jaw instinctively closing as the pressure rose. Hardly even daring to move his eyes, his sight stumbled across the root tied around his fleshy wrist. It continued to constrict, pulsing as would a heart, and when it finally stopped squeezing, Griffin’s legs turned to concrete, giving way to an eerie, essential silence. The only thing to be heard was his reverberating pulse, repeatedly slamming into his rib cage as his knees locked, knowing what a single step meant.

  Embry was not troubled by the lockdown; she was immune due to her anatomy, but Griffin, even being a half-breed, still held far too many humanistic traits to even dare to breathe loudly. Meanwhile, Justus continued to lounge back in the tracker, safe so long as he remained on the rail suspended above Earth’s fissure.

  With controlled breathing and balanced weight distribution, Griffin looked back to his composed mentor, who snickered down at him. “Don’t go soft on us now—our lives depend on it.”

  Griffin’s temples warmed in distress. Dammit… If only I could have sat down first…

  Justus remained lax, having the audacity to yawn and stretch his arms high above his head. “Well, I suppose this is as good of a time as ever.” He resituated himself in the front seat, pulling his legs down from the windshield and foraging on the floor with a hand. “Besides, Time does not stand with us—he stands with the enemy.” His hand touched something, and a hearty, mischievous chuckle filled his gut. “Well, he isn’t going to be a problem for me much longer.”

  Griffin wanted Justus to get to the point, but the lithe way he moved, the freedom of both his speech and muscles… It shot Griffin’s gut in more ways than one—especially when the item of Justus’ choice was a rusted nail.

  “Good thing Seek has Merritt,” Justus mused, taking a solid stand while overlooking the abused nail with starved eyes. “She may be inexperienced, but Merritt’s ability will probably be the only thing that keeps Seek alive. Pity.”

  This situation… Griffin didn’t understand it! There was something in Justus’ composure—something in his eyes that symbolized a man changed for the worst. “W-what?”

  Justus lowered the nail and looked his apprentice in the eye. “She meant something to me once—but that was long ago. It’s funny, though; Seek always seems to get blessed, in more ways than one.” There was no smile on his face now—only solid, straight lips, and eyes brimming with dark passion. “Say, Griffin, entertain me, will you? Be the savior for once; prevent your mentor from losing touch with reality and doing what he’s about to do.”

  Embry’s body abruptly racked and jolted in a nasty convulsion. Digital tones of all pitches rung high and loud upon translating the words that Griffin did not have the capacity to decode. As fast as her hinges let her, she swung her arm out to the side and took Griffin at the elbow, pulling her body to his and gluing them together at the side. Her purple eyes were swimming, rays pulling apart and then colliding, all as her processor struggled to keep up. “Justus! Silence those slitherous thoughts and return at once!”

  He just looked at her, meeting her request with a prideful snicker. “Embry. Shut down.”

  Griffin whipped his head to her just in time to witness what he thought he would never see—resistance. Angry, infuriated resistance against her creator that exploded as light from her eyes, but the ignition was brief—only a blink before her lids slammed shut and her joints stiffened, turning her into slumbering stone.

  Griffin trembled, especially at his arm. Dormant, she had no influence over her physical body, yet they were still hooked together tight with her overwhelming weight trying to tug him down.

  And, furthermore, trying to alert the Proxez of their presence.

  Even with Embry being a cage of metal, a wired heart with no true soul, Griffin felt angry—no, enraged by what Justus had done to her. But all he could do was snarl; a shuffle of the feet, a totter of balance, and it would all be over.

  Justus gracefully waved the nail as though it was a conductor’s baton. “Now, now, little nail—pay attention to your hammer!”

  “You’re sick!”

  Steel shrugged. “Society determines deviance. To you, my mind bears plague, but to me… Ha! It’s finally released from its conforming façade! And like I said…” He dropped his chin, throwing out a wave of negative energy. “You have one chance to save me, to prove that there is a sense of compassion, understanding for a battered soul like me in this cruel world—and it best be fast, for I feel sanity slipping!”

  Every ounce of Griffin wanted to fly forward and knock the bastard into the depths, but with concern for the sleeping ballerina linked to him and his allies above, his neck dipped in a reluctant nod.

  “Wonderful! My mother taught me this structure, and ey, dare I say, it has a nice ring to it. I’ve been waiting to share it with you for quite a while, so finish the last verse for me, will you?” He held the nail tight in his balled fist, bringing it to his mouth and clearing his throat. “Roses are red. Violets are blue. You broke my heart…”

  Griffin was about to topple over—not only from the weight his response carried, but it could not be more obvious where Justus took inspiration from.

  He tried to shuffle through the situation and determine an acceptable response, but the possibilities were truly endless, and Griffin had to try and figure it out all while watching the patience upon the mechanic’s face slowly tick away like the bomb he had become inside.

  With a windpipe constricted by nerves and Embry’s bending weight, Griffin shrilly answered: “You broke my heart, but I still choose you…?”

  Silence met his forced statement, along with Justus’ blank face. “You wish.”

  “BUT—!”

  “I’m far past playing hard to get! There’s only one way out for me now…” Justus pushed his sleeve up to his elbow, hovering the nail above the lively veins in his wrist.

  “J-JUSTUS!” Griffin lurched his upper body forward and nearly moved, only to remember in the nick of time—but remaining stationary meant being unable to save his friend, who was slipping further away by the second. “P-please! It’s not worth it! Nothing is worth that, I promise!”

  “You don’t know the value of life,” Justus snarled in response, never looking up with eyes that had gone black.

  “Yes, yes, I do! Please, just put it down, and we’ll—!”

  “NO! Don’t you get it?!” His eyes broke open, and the tears ran forth, revealing a child hidden behind those dark, sinister lenses. “Roses are red, violets are blue. You broke my heart, and now I’ll break you!”

  A heave and grunt of hatred later, the nail barreled down and excavated Justus’ veins, tearing them wide open and throwing his cold bloo
d into the ripe air.

  Blood poured down Justus’ arm, but he just laughed—held his neck high and strained it back, reveling in the warmth of death; and in the still environment, a land in which only Time moved, a foreboding breath of wind was born—one which was hot and began to melt the cold chamber around them.

  Griffin knew that tickle on his skin; he knew this very scene.

  It snapped his mind away from his body, and it destroyed the oath he had taken. Without wasting a moment, he threw Embry into his arms and sprinted for dear life back toward the tunnel.

  The earth shifted the instant he moved, but he ignored it all he could. Justus’ continued laughter ruptured Griffin’s ears; his frantic heartbeat was so amplified that it nearly muffled the outpour of screams and explosions above—but only nearly.

  He skidded to a halt, the warm, now steaming air sticking to his lungs. The cries of his allies were overwhelming, a tide with a gripping undertow pulling his stricken legs back. He shook his head, not knowing which direction to turn. I have to go! I have to go now, but if I go up, will I be able to—?!

  “Oh… It’s you.”

  Embry’s limp body gained a hundred pounds. The voice made any further attempt at escape impossible. Griffin’s toes curled and locked him to the softening soil, and his bladder proudly relaxed.

  But there was no place for embarrassment—only sheer and utter dismay when his neck broke ties with his heart and glanced back.

  Justus was still laughing, but now, it was right in the face of the strongest demon to prowl the lands. His toxic body gave off as much radiation as ever, so vile and heinous that he could not correctly hold together his human form. The shadowing fedora was dipped so low that the only visible feature of his face was his lustful, crazed red eyes that scanned his summoner. “Justus… I did not expect it to be you to so carelessly allow your sacred blood to tamper the earth.”

  Griffin’s mentor did not defend himself. He was trapped in a hysteria of laughter, a track continuously skipping on repeat.

  A fist of shadows swung forward and caught the Glitch right at his throat, lifting him above the tracker. Typo smirked, half-walking half-floating over to the side of the tracker so that Justus’ feet dangled above the gluttonous chasm.

  Even while choking, bursts of laughter forced their way out, but Justus’ volume was now continuously dropping as one drip at a time, his life force began its never-ending journey to the bottom of the world.

  “How pathetic,” Typo observed. “Such a powerful brain, but such a weak heart… I do hope you come to realize that we will never give you the luxury of death that you crave so badly.” With superhuman strength, he denied Justus of his fall and flung him back onto the muddy soil.

  Griffin watched with uncontrollable shudders and thundering blood, trying to force his feet to run. Heading to the surface was death. Jumping into the depths was death. Dueling Typo was death.

  Griffin’s processor, filled with sequences of “true” and “false,” had finally dominated his emotionally dependent brain. He found only one option that gave him a possible “true.”

  It was a slow, reluctant gait, but Griffin did not turn back even as Typo’s deadly eyes flicked to him. He held his breath and forced his fears down as he came up beside Justus, placing Embry down and kneeling beside his mentor. Eyes averting the ghastly presence, he withdrew a roll of duct tape from Justus’ baggy jumpsuit, proceeding to bandage his mentor’s wound just as he had watched Seek do.

  The loose mechanic let his head roll over in the slop with a pained chuckle. “Ey… If only you had been this affectionate before…”

  Griffin grunted. He wasn’t doing it because he had a sudden shift of heart; the only way to possibly ensure survival was to act on forgiveness and stick with the one person Typo so-openly pardoned from death.

  Griffin’s nurturing act held all of Typo’s attention. Griffin was well-aware, but he kept his head down and mouth closed until he had finished wrapping Justus’ wrist—only then did Griffin look his archenemy in the eye.

  One look from the demon was enough to cripple almost anyone, but to Griffin’s surprise, he felt his bloodstream surge with heat. Those beady red eyes, orbs that belonged to a hungry hawk… That was the last thing his best friend saw before her life was ripped away.

  Typo smirked, contently revealing a single fang. “Now that is the threatening glint of a ‘de Vaux.’ How fascinating…” With a tug on his cape, Typo advanced, loudly romping through the mud.

  Griffin watched in wait. Not knowing what to expect, he protectively lay one hand on Embry’s stomach—he even did the same to Justus’ wrist.

  Typo dug the horns of his heavy boots down into the ground before the defeated trio, overlooking his prizes. Griffin maintained eye contact, keeping a fixed, defiant posture, but his eardrums continued to cower at the wails of his allies being torn to shreds above. Shockwaves pulled the ground apart somewhere far beneath; granules of rock and glops of clay fell from the ceiling with each impact from above. It was only because of their depth that Griffin did not go deaf; he could not even begin to imagine the chaos above.

  His unwinding fears must have made their way to his face. “Trust me, the hell above is nothing a mortal could have the imagination for,” Typo agreed with a jolly cackle. “Unfortunately, your end will not be that peaceful.” His arm blurred, and then he had secured Griffin by the neck, forcing his air reserves to immediately deplete.

  Griffin’s jaw dropped; his lungs begged to inhale, but he could not. Typo’s nails were sticking through his glove and shooting up Griffin’s lymph nodes with dark magic. He could not lift his arms to try and pry Typo’s claws away, nor could he feel his limbs; the sheer heat of Typo’s body impaired him. The wisps rolling off Typo singed Griffin’s nose hairs, and the smell seeped in through his collapsed nostrils. The stench was suffocating, rich in oil, sulfur, vinegar—all blending together and attempting to implode his nose.

  “Ey…!” Justus gagged, peeling his face up off the ground. “Hold on! Let me get a hit on him first…!” He groggily plowed his hand through the muck, reaching for something under Embry’s back.

  “KNOCK IT OFF!” Typo’s combat boot found Justus’ face well before he could snatch whatever he intended, sending him tumbling across the ground in the opposite direction. He only rolled a few times, but that was plenty to send him flying into unconsciousness.

  With two out of three down, Griffin had fully captivated Typo’s interest. The demon bared his fangs in victory as he watched the human fall to his demonic charm, but it was all a blur to Griffin. Typo’s face no longer seemed even remotely human; all he saw was a cloud of swirling, indigo hate feeding on his soul and gaining strength in his fall.

  Twelve

  Lost in Fire

  The final stretch was the biggest bitch I ever mounted. As our trio continued slaving away toward the surface, the walls we clung to gradually changed shape. It was no longer a straight, rugged hike up, but a slanted, strategic game of upside-down monkey bars with our guts rubbed away by the upward crawl. The visible darkness that obscured our travel for an unknown length of time had finally met its limit, held back by an unseen barrier as the transition from distortion to Earth finally took place.

  Coruscus was wrapped around my neck for security while I clung to the bending walls, and meanwhile, that wench Mabel was showing off. Her hands were the only parts of her body that required anchorage. She was truly a filthy primate, able to advance while swinging backward. Only when the cliff dipped sharply in did she use her feet, and even then, it was often not for long.

  Ever since she had been reunited with her prized weapon, she was floating on a cloud. Her frame appeared fuller, denser, and stronger than before, and even in our grim situation, her eyes found a new reason to live; there was never a dull moment within them.

  Why that damn blade made her so fucking cheerful, I didn’t know, but it threatened to bring bile to my mouth. She was probably just trying to show off as the
leader of our group for once, but it didn’t impress me. She was a plank; of course, she could maneuver tight spaces easily and take advantage of her light weight. That was the sacrifice that macho, well-endowed demons made, and honestly, that wasn’t even a loss in my eyes. I would much prefer strength capable of crushing skulls rather than being able to do impressive flips.

  “And I would certainly rather be anything but a pile of bones,” I vocalized on purpose, turning my nose up at Korbu’s blackened pelvis that loomed an arm’s length away. He had maintained the same distance in front of me for a good while now, and having to stare at a bald ass was anything but satisfying.

  Korbu glared at me through his ceiling-hooked legs. “My apologies; I figured it would be best to be the mediator between you and the girl since you are too childlike to control yourself.”

  I shot a hateful wad of spit into the depths. “When you find yourself in my dilemma, we’ll talk.”

  Korbu snorted, rolling his eyes and taking another stride. “What’s your dilemma? Holding a grudge against someone that you have no history with? Let me tell you, every time I see a passerby enter the coliseum, I can’t help but want to decapitate them.”

  His comparison made me twitch. “That is far from the truth.”

  “Is it? You’re judging Mabel for something she has nothing to do with. Not only was she thousands of years from being born before your punishment, but she did not ask for the title of Receiver. Besides, she and Maeve are two halves of a different whole; the only thing that presently links them together is their shared power. Maeve herself is long dead—Reeve killed her nearly a thousand years ago.”

  The piece of rock I held onto suddenly crumbled, quickly forcing me to find another viable hold. Surprised, I looked into his violet eyes to determine whether or not he was trolling me—which he wasn’t. “Then why did you call her Maeve all this time, huh? Why would you allow me to bring a fraud into Nortora?”