Ten - Part 1

by Sin Ribbon

  “I know, sweetie. I ...” She cannot form the words. Dozens of bodies surround them like an undug cemetery. Fragments and fragile outlines are all that remain of them.

  A nearby casing collapses in on itself at the faint suggestion of wind. Olivia yelps as the dust climbs into the air beside her, calling up buried horrors from her past. Corpses cast out with the trash, hands and faces twisted skyward, and the voices behind them that were silenced forever—all stacked in neat, little rectangles on her desk and the tears she cried, toiling over them.

  She pulls Qiu back into her embrace. “We have to leave.”

  The child protests. “Olivia, what’s going on? Something’s wrong, I know it!” She drags Olivia’s hand away from her eyes, but the woman spins her around to stop the child from catching a glance. “I can still feel the shadow! Let me see!”

  “No!” Olivia tilts Qiu’s face to meet hers. She focuses on the child’s hazel eyes to block out the gruesome sight mere feet away. “You don’t want the memories. Trust me.”

  Qiu stares, a pain surfacing in her eyes. “I already remember bad things ...”

  Olivia offers a supportive smile. “Me too.” She kisses the child’s forehead. “But we don’t need to add more to the pile.”

  The girl surrenders to Olivia’s wisdom. “All right.”

  With Qiu’s hand in hers, the woman chooses a direction and leads the child down the block. Both keep their gazes focused on the cement in front of their feet. A tendril of grey ashes swoops in front of Olivia, and she halts, afraid to breathe.

  When the dust settles, she picks up the pace.

  At the end of the block, she’s forced to decide which way is forward. “Keep your head down, sweetie.” Olivia checks north, west, and south. A few confused civilians hurry away to the west. Their fleeting presence is the only sign of life she sees.

  Still under the eye of the vortex, Olivia has no idea which direction might lead towards or away from the source of the chaos. Behind them, the bodies have disappeared. The scattered lines of dust are the only evidence that people had walked the streets at all.

  She cups a hand over her mouth, unsure if contorted, mummified remains are better than no remains at all.

  Olivia whips back to the decision at hand and turns to intuition for guidance. She veers south, pulling Qiu behind her.

  The young girl strives to keep up. “How do you know we’re going the right way?”

  “I don’t.”

  Qiu presses, dragging her feet. “But what if this is the wrong direction? What if we run into the other shadow?”

  In Olivia’s free hand, a familiar glow returns with ferocity. It flashes in a whirling tempest of light the size of a golf ball. She looks over her shoulder at the dark omen in the sky, narrowing her eyes with determination. “Then I’ll be ready.”

  ~ THIRTY-FIVE ~

  Madison

  Small, sporadic clusters of people flee past Madison, Riya, and Sebastian as they maneuver through the streets of Pittsburgh—far fewer numbers than the teen expected given the apparent scope of the calamity. Some frantic, ashen-faced pedestrians sob while others warn them to run. Despite the bile of anxiety that burns the back of Madison’s throat, he presses onward beside his companions, past the frenzied witnesses.

  Their pace slows as the last of the bystanders disappears from view. Only the distant wail of emergency sirens permeates the air, an ominous battle song for what lies ahead.

  “God, where is everyone?” Riya wonders.

  Sebastian keeps close, vigilant. “I’m not sure, but best not to assume anything. We don’t know what kind of power Thane might have.”

  Tight-lipped, Madison watches the bulging clouds churn above. They gather in a spiral, centered over a point mere blocks away. In his gut, he knows that’s where Thane will be—the new harbinger of destruction. The pressure weighing down his shoulders dwarfs any residual fear from his old life; he’d prefer the screams of his foster parents over facing the darkness he feels lurking in the distance.

  The teen summons a deep breath to calm himself but immediately chokes on the thick, chalky odor tainting the air.

  Riya pulls her shirt over her nose as a tremendous wave of dust rips through the city. Madison and Sebastian shield their eyes. Street signs and traffic lights wobble in the wind, and a long, baleful moan trails behind the gust until it billows past them.

  The dust settles, and all returns to silence.

  “What the bloody hell was that?” Sebastian mutters. He surveys the area, trying to make sense of the foreboding aura.

  Riya stops short. Her eyes vibrate with intensity. “We’re heading in the right direction, but ... I’m not sure about this, guys. Whatever Thane’s become ... it’s monstrous.”

  “But Madison is our only chance to stop him. We have to continue.” Sebastian brushes her back with his hand. “We can do this.”

  Madison smiles, supportive. Though he shares Riya’s trepidation, the incident with Allister in the apartment hovers in the back of his mind. A life was taken, and more could fall if he hesitates again.

  After a couple blocks, the trio come to the threshold of another district. A haze of dust is all that occupies the streets. No signs of life, except ...

  Madison spots something odd down the block and rushes towards it. He skids to a stop and kneels down. Charred, brittle ashes, hollowed out and sepulchered into a shell. Only a fraction of the form remains intact—the outline of slender arms, a neck, a skull.

  The teen trembles. Riya and Sebastian halt behind him.

  “I-Is that ...” Riya can barely speak above a whisper.

  Sebastian breathes heavy. “Jesus, this—”

  “Was a person.” Madison flops to his knees. His reddening eyes trace over the remnant of what was once a human being.

  “Oh God, then the reason the streets are so empty ...” Riya strains for breath. She turns to Sebastian and buries her face in his chest.

  He pats her head. “This is ... staggering.”

  As Riya sobs in the Brit’s embrace, Madison reaches for the human outline. “If only I had been here, I could’ve ...” His fingertips grace the casing, and it crumbles in a puff of dust. He reels back, eyes welling with tears, then in a sudden flurry of emotion, lunges for the scraps. The powder is so fine, it wafts between his fingers, too elusive to grasp. “What the fuck was I thinking?! I left Thane alone! I never should’ve—”

  “Hey!” Sebastian snatches his arm and pulls the youth to meet his gaze. “This is no one’s fault. These powers, these ... monsters—whatever they are—were thrust upon us. All we can do is fight the battle that’s right in front of us. That’s why we’re here, to fight this one now.”

  Madison nods and wipes his tears. The Brit pulls him in for a hug before helping him to his feet. “I-I’m sorry. Thank you, Sebastian.”

  His blue eyes blaze with fortitude, instilling Madison with courage.

  “Come on, I can sense Thane and Siha not far ahead.” Sebastian squeezes Riya’s shoulder to rouse her, and the trio continue onward.

  As the cement passes below their feet, the eye of the vortex gradually centers above them. Madison can feel the dark presence looming ahead, stifling the air. He forces one foot in front of the other to combat the terrible dread paralyzing his muscles.

  Rounding the corner, scattered piles of dust are all that account for those that strolled these streets. Madison gasps, his shoulders heaving with his quickening breath. Sebastian and Riya gape with horror. The ash collects along the street curbs, in the crevices of buildings—each particle fallen from a life, never to be known or buried by loved ones.

  Ahead and alone amongst the fray, Madison spies Siha. She stands a quiet observer, crippled by what the teen can only define as bitter acceptance.

  Sebastian calls out to her. The brunette whips to them, expression withering with cold regret. She gestures down the road, and their gazes follow.

  Beyond the vapor of ash and powder, the silhouette of
a man emerges. Tall, dark, black-clad and broad-shouldered with eyes the color of smoke. A Fate. He leers at the newcomers, unphased by their arrival.

  Madison’s fingers curl into fists, not from anger but to steel himself against the abyss beyond that piercing stare. Siha’s warnings could not have prepared him for what he senses inside of Thane, a will so vast it could only be named eternity.

  The teen fights to expand his lungs. Every hair on his body rises. Riya and Sebastian stand frozen beside him. Silence envelopes the space, the lack of life so noticeable that the apocalypse no longer seems a fantasy.

  The pale eyes narrow. With a wave of his hand, a gust disperses the haze to reveal the human casings at his feet—limbs, torsos, faces still screaming in their final moments of agony. He sneers, a conqueror of the departed no less faltered by the title.

  Madison firms. No hesitation this time. No time to waste. The youth raises his hands and projects his power onto Thane. He focuses with all his strength, praying that the beast be pacified.

  The pale-eyed man smirks and shifts upright in preparation. He raises his arms, ushering a swelling tide of death that cascades from his body. A wave erupts down the street, shattering the windows along the way. A shower of twinkling fragments rains down from the buildings.

  Siha dives into the storefront behind her to evade the blast. Tensed with horror, Madison, Riya, and Sebastian frantically search for a blockade, a safety, anything, but they are exposed in the middle of the street. The tide encroaches faster than they can reach shelter.

  In a flash of courage, Riya wraps her arms around Madison to shield him as much as possible. She curls her body around him, tucking his head beneath hers. Madison can’t react. He crumbles with guilt by the time the blast reaches them. The thunderous force crashes around them, then echoes through the streets as it dissipates into the distance.

  Fraught with worry, the teen nudges his head free to check on Riya. Mercifully, the raven-haired woman appears safe. Her eyes remain squinted shut, and Madison brushes against her cheek to spur her to open them. She blinks, bewildered but grateful to see the teen unharmed. The two exchange relieved expressions before a surge of terror whirls Riya to Sebastian.

  A beautiful expanse of light shields the three of them in a swooping, oval shape. It glitters with an iridescent sheen. Incredibly, the barrier projects from Sebastian’s forearm, somehow manifested from his will. He pants, delightfully surprised by his efforts’ success and boasts a satisfied grin.

  Madison looks to his protectors with awe. Despite her fear, Riya stands willful, dark hair disheveled and tattoos glistening with sweat as if she were an Amazon warrior. Sebastian’s blue eyes radiate with fervor, ready to defend the two of them even in the wake of such an overwhelming unknown. Madison believes his small life unworthy of their struggle, but their strength calls to something in his soul—a need to match their passion and defend it to whatever end may come.

  The pale-eyed Fate lowers his arms, a conductor at rest. His back flexes and arches like a panther stretching its muscles, but there are no illusions about what he is. He doesn’t seem slighted by Sebastian’s ability to rebuff his attack. Instead, he smirks, amused.

  Siha emerges from the shelter of the building. She steadies herself against the brick as she maneuvers over the broken glass. The Fate surreptitiously eyes her, his interest piqued. Noticing, Siha responds with a sharp glare which provokes a chuckle from the pale-eyed man.

  Now may be his only opportunity. Madison raises his hands again and summons the power to suppress the Fate within Thane. Immediately, the pale eyes dart to the youth, offended by the intrusion. In his fury, the Fate sends another tidal force against the trio. Sebastian maintains his shield as the wind sweeps around them, but the sheer intensity pushes him back nevertheless.

  Madison strains to combat the monster before them. The Fate’s fearsome gaze burrows into the teen, filling him with dread of what will come when the other Fates stand shoulder-to-shoulder with this silhouette of death. Though Madison focuses his intent, he cannot escape the scratching sensation growing in the back of his skull. It’s almost a whisper, the ominous but familiar impression left when waking from a nightmare.

  Sebastian grits his teeth as another blast is unleashed upon him. Riya clings to them both, offering every bit of her strength to support them.

  Madison groans. Beads of sweat drip down his forehead as the scratching in his mind hums ever louder. It mutters and implores him to return to stillness. He wonders if this softly itching madness swallowed the victims as well.

  Gradually, the youth’s power digs into the pale-eyed man. The Fate falls to his knees and lowers his head.

  “Come on, Thane! Fight!” Riya yells.

  His shoulders heave, and Madison wonders if Thane is gaining the upper hand. Then, with unrelenting vigor, the Fate looks up. A smirk creeps across his lips, no less hypnotizing than the devil’s grin. He rises and erupts in silent laughter. It cannot be heard over the storm of wind and sirens, but Madison can see it—that wide-open mouth, ready to devour the world in an instant.

  The youth endures. Even as his power wanes, he notices the onlooking Siha who watches with quiet resolution. Whether she sees victory or failure ahead, Madison cannot discern from her stoic expression alone.

  The Fate convulses. His hands claw through his hair even as he howls with laughter. Madison has no idea if the pale beast is going mad from power or pacification.

  Then, with a widening smile, the dark will vanishes. Thane’s eyes roll back into his head, and he collapses in exhaustion.

  ~ THIRTY-SIX ~

  Allister

  A pitcher plant balances on the marble countertop in front of him. Allister sits at the bar, arms folded, appreciating the expansive array of liquor bottles lining the glass shelves. The black, Chinese-styled cabinets glow with ambient lighting to showcase the collection of liquor and crystal glassware. Beige curtains accent the tall windows which sparkle with the nighttime lights of London. The bar’s décor undulates with sophisticated, historic vibe, boasting wall frame molding, leather armchairs, and massive chandeliers. Its decadence is only matched by the strength and originality of its award-winning cocktails, no less surprising than its strategic location inside a chic hotel in Marylebone.

  “You’ve outdone yourself, Clark.” Allister raises the pitcher plant before enjoying another sip. “The plant’s a ... unique touch. You know a nice sherry’s good in any glass.”

  “It’s about showmanship, my friend,” Clark replies. The bartender’s pedantic nature is evident from his meticulous polishing of the glassware. He checks each one three times before deeming it worthy enough to return to the shelf.

  “It’s better than the pineapple at least,” Allister mutters as he savors his drink. Though his time in the United States was short, he ached for the ambiance of his favorite bar and the new flavors each experience offered him.

  The blond stretches with a sigh, broadening his shoulders as if finding relaxation at last. “I missed this place.”

  “You say that like you were gone all year.”

  “Felt that way. Afraid I won’t be staying long either.”

  Clark raises an eyebrow. “America was that enticing?”

  Allister smiles, introspective. “No, but the people were.”

  The bartender laughs, unsurprised. “Well that didn’t take long. Chatted up some girl already?”

  Allister narrows his eyes. “That’s exactly what Sebo said, so the pair of you can fuck off. I’m taking it slow.”

  “Knowing you, slow is going to last about a week.”

  The blond rolls his eyes. “I’ll take that as a compliment of my animal magnetism.”

  Clark places a clean glass on the shelf and turns to lean on the bar across from Allister, leering. “You know it is. So what’s her name?”

  “Orion, and before you ask, she’s tall, spirited, and has the most amazing sense of humor.” The Brit groans with longing. “Gorgeous, too. Flame-c
olored hair and emerald eyes.”

  “Oof, I feel sorry for the poor bloke she left for you.”

  “Wasn’t with anyone, if you can believe it, though I don’t exactly get along with ... the roommate.”

  Clark’s expression widens. “Oh, this has got to be good.”

  “He’s the protective brother-type. Never met a more stubborn arsehole in my life.”

  “Finally met your match, huh? About time you were on the receiving end.”

  Allister pantomimes a sarcastic laugh and takes another sip of his cocktail. “Your arse is going to miss me. No one else’s willing to put up with your shit.”

  “What, you aren’t coming back?”

  “Wasn’t planning to the first time, but fuck if I know.” He takes another swig. “We both know my steadfast history with plans.”

  “I’m sure we’ll get along without you,” Clark gloats with a facetious smile. “And if you ever get that bar opened, I’ll drop by ... if your drinks are any good.”

  “Right. We’ll see who’s the award-winning mixologist then.”

  Clark shakes his head and moves to the back for an errand.

  The Brit remains alone at the bar with only his drink for company. Although isolated crowds of patrons congest the space, an emptiness hovers above Allister like a fog. He imagines Orion by his side, filling London with her enthusiastic light, and the look of those awestruck, green eyes as they relish the view from the London Eye. Even if he had to suffer through the kids’ inane chatter, the laughter of everyone together, especially his brother’s, would be worth it.

  Strangely, Allister tenses at the thought of the others. The blond takes out his mobile and pulls up the Pittsburgh news app, hoping his surge of anxiety is unfounded, but the top story quickly dashes his hopes. The color drains from his face at the headline: Mass Disappearance Sweeps Local Neighborhood.

  Allister slaps his money on the counter and races out the door before Clark even notices he’s gone.