by Ian Isaro
"Don't you want anything more out of life than this?" The figure gestured to the empty laundromat. His grand movement was somewhat ruined by the hum of the laundry machines.
"I'd like to win this level without being distracted."
"Idiot boy! I'm offering you something more valuable than you can comprehend and you fritter away your time on games?"
Though he had some mildly clever quips in mind, Blake was distracted by another presence. Someone else was approaching and they weren't planning to make a dramatic entry. It was some kind of causality tunnel, which was out of his league, but he was able to peer inside and catch a glimpse of an angry woman.
Then another burst of flame knocked his chair over backward. Between that and watching the new arrival, Blake failed the level again. He had no choice but to press buttons as if he was still playing. The mysterious figure made a growling noise, but just then the woman left her tunnel and shot out into real space.
"Well, hello." Blake flipped his phone closed and stood up to greet them.
The man was wearing a black robe with an enormous collar. It flared up menacingly, but his pudgy bald face ruined the effect. Blake had seen his kind before. He spent longer looking at the woman. She wore black slacks and a white dress shirt that wasn't tucked in and managed to look good in it. Given that she hadn't fixed the strands of blond hair blown everywhere from her movement, he doubted she cared.
She was also the angrier of the two. Without a glance at Blake, she jabbed two fingers in the center of the man's chest. "You think this will go unreported?"
"You think I won't report that you were late?"
For a moment she only glared, then she glanced up and down the man. "Are you supposed to be Dracula?"
"Just trying to make a good first impression." The man nodded in Blake's direction, not subtly enough to avoid notice. "People like him have a taste for the theatrical."
Their bickering wasn't giving him any information, so Blake decided to intervene. He stepped closer and made a pouting face. "I didn't think being ignored would hurt so much. I don't feel chosen at all."
Now they turned to him. The woman remained irritated, but the man stepped forward and smiled before speaking. "You were listening, then. We may have gotten off on the wrong foot, but I hope you'll hear me out. The name's Ivan Cochran."
"Blake Prieto." While he shook Ivan's hand, Blake glanced at the woman. "And you are?"
"Trill." She didn't offer her hand or anything else. The name was either an affectation or of non-human origin, so he chose to believe the latter.
"Well, so very glad to meet both of you. Might I ask why you needed to show up so dramatically? Am I the only hope to save the world? Can we wait for my laundry first?"
While Ivan chuckled, Trill stepped between them and examined Blake. "Ignore this idiot. You're obviously not ignorant of the supernatural yourself, and you've been noticed. We're here to offer you a full scholarship to Axis University."
"Is that so?" Blake let out a low whistle. "As fancy as that sounds, I'm going to have to pass. If I'd wanted to pursue higher education I would have gone to a normal college."
"Do you have no ambition at all?" Her eyes were narrowing, and Blake regretted that she was probably going to think less of him. But it was hardly the worst thing he had done, and if she worked for the college he might have a second chance later.
Ivan put a hand on her arm and she immediately stiffened. He didn't seem to notice, only pushing her to the side and shaking his head. "See, a dry approach to this isn't going to get us anywhere. He wants to know how all of this matters on a universal scale."
"Actually, I want to get back to my game." Blake waved his phone in the air in case it didn't already sound stupid enough. "But sure, universal scale or whatever."
"These will not be the boring classes you're expecting. We're trying to prepare you for the coming war between light and darkness. You have an incredible role to play in what is to come."
"Sounds reasonable, what with me being an orphan and all. But what trope does that make you? Either you're a wise old mentor or I'll find out you were responsible for killing my parents in a shocking, shocking plot twist. You'd better get out of the story while you can."
Ivan spluttered and Trill looked as though she might be suppressing a smile.
"So is this one of those good path or bad path choices? Anyone in a black cloak must be evil and the blond woman would have to be good. No offense, Ivan, but I think between the two of you there isn't much of a choice."
"You fool!" Flames burst around Ivan again. Both Blake and Trill leaned away from the blast but otherwise didn't react. "This is destiny, not choice! Your soul is as black as pitch!"
Was it that obvious? Blake pulled out his most apathetic shrug to hide his reaction. "Yeah, I figured it was something like that. So what is good's angle on this?" Trill eyed him for a moment before answering slowly.
"It's true you're being offered this scholarship because you have a strong affinity for darkness. But that's just a label. This is the 21st century; it's absurd to think we should be governed by destiny from the ancient past. There are some at Axis University who believe it would be better if you were dead. I am among those who think we need to harness power from both sides to create a less barbaric future."
"Interesting. Any other groups that might be coming after me?"
"You'll get pulled into faculty politics soon enough." Ivan cut off the discussion and Blake suppressed a twinge of annoyance. It didn't seem likely he was going to learn anything else. "Don't listen to this humanism blither. You've never helped anyone in your life, and you don't need to. You're destined to rule!"
"That sounds nice, but though my sense of self-entitlement is indeed quite massive, I'm not quite arrogant enough to think I'm really the darkest of the dark. Am I going to end up enslaved to the will of some Lord of the Rings giant flaming eyeball?"
Under her breath, Trill muttered, "Only in the movies."
He grinned at her. "Fine then, enslaved to the will of Morgoth."
That earned him a flashing smile and confirmed his impression of Trill. He needed to find a way to get her out of here, and he needed to do it without ruining her impression of him by acting like a jerk. There went most of his usual tricks.
Their conversation was making a vein in Ivan's forehead twitch. It looked like it was about to explode, possibly in flame. Or darkness. Or dark flames. "Stop treating all of this like some children's story!"
"But it is like a story." Blake stuck his hands in his pockets. "You can't expect us to pretend we've never heard of heroes and villains and all that."
"Maybe so. But this isn't a story for children. Can't you understand what this would actually mean for you? There would be no more laws, no more limits. You could have anything you wanted, anyone you wanted."
It was the most masterful eye movement of Blake's life. As Trill rolled her eyes, he let his gaze flicker to her just long enough for Ivan to notice. Then he adopted his most innocent expression and resisted the urge to pat himself on the back.
"You're beginning to see now. When this conflict turns violent, and it will, people like Trill will just be spoils of war."
"This is obviously only going to go downhill. I'm out." Trill snapped her fingers and a manila envelope appeared in her hand. She shoved it at Blake while glaring at Ivan. "He speaks for a tiny fraction of the school. Ignore him. If you want to attend, the packet will tell you everything you need to know. Ivan, if you're not too busy being a Neanderthal, remember to administer the essence test. It's only four months until the next semester starts, and that's barely enough time."
While Ivan muttered a response, Blake focused on keeping his heart rate steady. The test was the real danger. While he'd heard a lot about it, there was no way to be prepared for the real thing. Trill stepped onto a different plane and vanished without even saying goodbye. That was unfortunate, but it left things just as he wanted them.
"A test?" He sighed
heavily. "This is starting to sound like too much work."
"Not that kind of test." Ivan revealed a crystal sphere from one of his sleeves and began sending waves of energy into it. "More like a blood test, except it won't even hurt. This is just to confirm that you really have as much potential for darkness as the initial estimates claimed."
"You mean I could fail now and get nothing?"
"Not likely." Ivan held the sphere up in front of Blake and it began to fill with what appeared to be blood. "Some candidates are questionable, but not you. I think you know it. You've always been different from others, isolated by your superiority. Have your foster parents ever been able to understand you? You're different from them. Now you have a chance to learn about your true parents."
"It's kind of disturbing how much you guys know. What else do your files have on me?"
"Not much that couldn't be found on the internet." Ivan chuckled, but the sound died as he stared down at the sphere. It was pure black now, and the world around it was drained of color. "That's strange, you shouldn't-"
One hand closed over the sphere. The other went around his neck.
Blake smiled. "Your files don't have nearly enough. I was worried about the resources Axis University might have, but it seems my concern was unnecessary."
Though the sphere was covered, the world darkened. Drained of color, it was a shifting haze of light and shadow... and the shadow was growing. Ivan struggled against the arm that had become only darkness, his breath wheezing.
"You don't understand anything. Not about me, not about the games that are being played." He pulled the man closer to him. "I remember my biological parents. They knew what I was, and they tried to kill me. You could say they were trying to do the right thing."
"Why are you doing this?" Ivan gave a choking gasp but struggled to keep speaking. "You can't deny that you're evil... you might even be the one we've been waiting for!"
"Maybe. If you think that means you know what I am, then you haven't understood a thing we've said. I may have been born to fulfill your vision of evil, but I don't care."
He should have been able to finish it then, but Blake could feel his body shaking. As worthless as Ivan was, he was almost too much for Blake. Without the shock and terror, he might even have been overcome. Then he had no choice but to rely on his tools.
"Once, people believed that if you painted a picture of someone you could take a piece of their soul. Art was the practice of witches and demons and everything else that lurked in the darkness. They haven't limited themselves to paintings since then."
The sphere slipped into his pocket and he raised his cell phone. For a moment Ivan's fear was replaced by an incredulous look. That didn't last when the camera clicked and the power took hold of him. His being was shattered into glimmering fragments that were quickly consumed, pulled with the darkness as it faded.
Blake frowned and fiddled with his phone's settings. It had made a shutter noise like an old camera, which was pointless since it was digital. He always told himself he should find a way to shut it off and always forgot. Now it had ruined the moment, and though the only person to see no longer existed, it put him in a bad mood.
But there were more important things. He picked up the envelope again and extended his senses around it. There was some kind of magical signature there that was unique and would be difficult to forge. More than enough for him to reach the university. The first step was done.
He had been thinking about this moment for a long time, but this wasn't training or imagination. Everything had begun, and if he thought about it for too long it might paralyze him. So he forced himself to move forward, flicking through the numbers on his phone. His father's entry blurred out in a magical shift, so he called his mother.
"Blake? What are you-"
"They finally came to offer a scholarship."
"Oh." Her voice was suddenly soft. "Then we don't have any more time. You should have a few months before the semester, but you're going to be on your own. As soon as they have the test results they'll be watching, so your father and I won't be able to help or even contact you."
"I know."
"These people are serious, Blake. You've been very dedicated in your training, but some of these people have been just as dedicated since before you were born. You've always been too overconfident and that will get you killed unless you're careful."
He sighed and lifted the sphere in front of him to stare at the darkness within. "I know, Mom. I need someone to doctor my essence results, since they're too complex for me."
There was a long pause and then his mother spoke tonelessly. "You killed the messenger, didn't you?"
Despite himself, he grinned. "I have to start fulfilling evil villain tropes, don't I?"
"I just hope you have an adequate excuse." Her voice warmed slightly, and Blake could easily imagine her smile. "The people examining the results will be specialists, so I should leave that to your father. He's not on Earth right now."
"Yeah, I noticed."
"He might be done by the time you get here, so come back anyway. If we get to see you one last time, I'll weave something to prepare you for any kind of aether polygraph they might use. But after this you need to stop taking so many risks, alright?"
"Alright, Mom. See you soon."
Blake closed his cell phone slowly. It hadn't felt so final until now. Soon he would be past the point of no return. Axis University might give him everything he needed, but it could also destroy everything he had worked for.
He took a deep breath and ripped open the envelope.
Chapter 3
The ominous feeling as she approached the mail was a shadow of what it had once been. Keisha had nearly shredded the first stack, but day after day of no results had reduced the tension. Since the universities insisted on using physical mail, she wasn't certain when she would get her letter. So most likely today it would just be advertising or letters for her flat mates.
Or so she told herself to try to banish the lingering hope. Self-aware self-deception didn't work, and sent her into recursive thoughts that didn't help either. Just another of the games she played as she sorted the mail. Advertising. Another letter from Hannah's mother. Flier. Offer from a meaningless university. More advertising.
An envelope with the NYU logo on it. She had seen her own name at a glance, but read it carefully to make sure there was no mistake.
She kept herself in check, trying not to imagine the results either way. Her movements to open the letter were methodical as her mind raced. Law school would change everything. Her life could start instead of idling in meaningless work, putting up with whatever idiots needed to share rent. The competition would be brutal, but she welcomed that over the stranglehold of ambitionless mediocrity.
Except it was a rejection.
Though she had thought about it many times, Keisha hadn't truly believed it would happen. She continued to scan the letter, the euphemisms twisting under her skin. Eventually she had to set it down or risk crumpling it. Once it was locked in her room, she grabbed a jacket and pushed out the door, moving quickly as if she could escape the truth.
Why had she been rejected? From what they had told her, people with her score on the LSAT almost always got into the school of their choice. That was supposed to matter more than the applications or the essays, yet she found herself reexamining everything she had written.
The problem was that she didn't know. Maybe someone had a bad lunch and didn't like one of her turns of phrase - she probably shouldn't have talked about heritage - and rejected her without grounds. Could they have made a mistake and associated her with something that would overcome the strength of the rest of the application? But now she was just deceiving herself, like every other pathetic reject who believed she deserved more.
Her pace quickly took her to a nearby park - a dismal thing, but safe. Today it was empty, which suited her. Keisha stepped off the path and stared toward the sky, wishing it wasn't so cheerfully blue
. Nature had no sense of drama.
From the corner of her eyes she noted a man jogging. Though she kept track of him, she was perfectly happy to let him ignore her and stay inside her own thoughts. The anger would simmer and eventually burn away so she could be civil to others. For something like this, "eventually" might be a long time.
Keisha frowned as she realized he wasn't jogging, he was running. Toward her. The populated streets were unfortunately far away, but she headed toward one and examined him as she walked. A white guy in his early twenties, out of shape in rumpled clothing, with dirty blond hair.
"Wait!"
She didn't.
"You have to help me!"
Well, that was new. She glanced at him over her shoulder. "I don't believe I do."
"I don't have... I said wait!"
She ignored a slight pain in the back of her head and increased her pace. In the space of a blink, he was somehow ahead of her. Keisha nearly bolted, except that the effort seemed to have exhausted him. Gasping for breath with his hands on his knees, he didn't seem very threatening.
Though she could probably take him, better to avoid conflict. He might have a weapon, or might simply be delusional instead of dangerous. She decided to wait and see, though perhaps that was a mistake. It was getting harder to think through the pain in her skull. There hadn't been any migraines since she finished college; why did they have to come back now?
"I'm not... the one you need to be afraid of." With the sweat stains spreading from his armpits and arm fat hanging, he didn't look it either. She waited and watched the distance between them. "Listen, this is serious. We're in real trouble unless we get out of here. I'm here to warn you, but you have to help me!"
"Maybe you should explain instead of chasing people." There was real fear in his eyes, and her concern shifted to his mental health. With the decrease in tension, her migraine seemed to be fading as well.
"Okay. Good. Now, this is going to seem crazy. Really crazy. Just listen to me, alright? We don't have a lot of time."
If he was aware he sounded irrational, that was a good sign. "Go on."