Thank you for downloading my sampler!  Included in this sampler are the first chapters from my written series, including the oneshot Altier, the Fall of the Dragon trilogy, and the Archive of Sinners series.  Each book is available on Amazon as both paperback and ebook, and the paper backs are also available for purchase in my store.  My main genre of writing is fantasy.  Each book will include a brief synopsis before the sample pages.

About the Author

Fawn Szymoniak, aka “Sanzaki Kojika” has been a residence of the fantasy world from a young age, growing up in a house full of books and mythology.  Her mother introduced her to fantasy works by authors like Barbara Hambly and Terry Brooks.  By the age of 8, she had already written her first novel (albeit crudely).

On top of her writing, she is also a freelance graphic designer.  She has several graphic novels self-published, including her ongoing webcomic series “Zos Kias,” at 9 volumes in 2015, with a new one each year.  Her other graphic novels include a oneshot “Desert Tracer,” and an ongoing story “Kappa to Ieba,” that revolves around Asian mythology.

Websites:  http://s-kojika.com http://kojika.deviantart.com

Facebook:    http://www.facebook.com/pages/Sanzaki-Kojika/

Twitter: @Sanzaki_Kojika

The Fall of the Dragon Trilogy

A three book high fantasy series. The following sample is from book one, "Beyond the Dancing Flames."

“In a world of forgotten magic, the Land has fallen to chaos and war. At the head of the chaos ride the Dragon and Phoenix empires, mercilessly fighting over control of the land. The war has lasted far too long, but the end is near. The Dragon is about to stumble. In a desperate attempt to avoid their eminent defeat, they reach out to find a replacement for their heir, a young desert boy named Shima. While the Dragon is searching desperately, they fall into an internal struggle for control of their empire and future. The Phoenix must try to put an end to this madness. But will the madness overcome them as well?”

Paperback- https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Dancing-Flames-Fall-Dragon/dp/1508441170/

Ebook - https://www.amazon.com/Beyond-Dancing-Flames-Fall-Dragon-ebook/dp/B00TJNEP8M/

Beyond the Dancing Flames

Book 1 in the Fall of the Dragon Trilogy

Sanzaki Kojika

Chapter 1

High upon a jagged cliff, a young girl took a step back, terror rising in her eyes.  She stood on the edge, and with one more step back she would go over it.  But, it wasn’t the cliff that scared her.

I will not follow you…

She screamed in terror and rage as she held up her hands to cover her face from the flames that were surging towards her.  The flames went past her, touching but not burning her.  A maniacal grin spread across her face.

I broke the contract!

She flung her arms open and gently threw herself over the edge of the cliff.  As she fell, the smile still remained on her face.

I am free!

And the girl crashed to the rocks below.

Shima looked up, bored, as an old man entered the store.  He watched the old man finger the clay pots and admire an old rug. This soon lost Shima’s attention and he turned back to the book on the table before him.  Old men coming into the place to admire these so-called “treasures” were a common day sight for him, and it bored him to no end.

The store was dark and almost everything in it was a hue of brown, tan, or gray.  Tall wooden shelves lined one wall and cluttered tables stood before them, creaking under the weight of their burden.  The whole place was pretty cluttered; books, pots, rugs, and other old “artifacts” were thrown about the room.  These things weren’t really artifacts though; they were more like old possessions the people in the village no longer wanted.  The vast majority of the items sold there had been donated by either the villagers or the few travelers who passed through.  So, the store and its items represented the village.  The place smelled of dust and a heavy spice similar to cinnamon, much like the village itself.

Shima’s appearance matched the dim place.  His dark blue hair was cropped short and his skin was a dark tan.  He wore a grayish tunic over a pair of dark pants.  There was a thin pair of sandals strapped across his feet.  The only thing that made him stand out were his vibrant red eyes.  That alone set him apart from the rest of the village.

“Excuse me, sir.” Shima looked up at the old man who was now standing before him. The old man gave a friendly smile and held forward one of the many red clay pots.

“I would like to purchase this,” he said.  Ah, another old fool!  That red pot was no more a treasure than a grain of sand in this desert!

Shima nodded his head, still pretending to be polite, and accepted the coins that tumbled from the old man’s pouch.  The old man smiled and looked upon his new treasure, admiring it, and happily left the store.  Shima watched him leave and turned back to his book. “What a weirdo…”

Shima turned to the next page in his book and his eyes lit up.  There it was, right in front of him!  He knew it was just a picture, but it felt like he could almost reach out and touch the hard, scaled…

“Shima!” Shima growled as he was interrupted and shoved a thin piece of paper into his book. He quickly closed it and hid it in his bag.

“Were you slacking off again?” A plump woman asked as she came down the steps. In one hand she held a baby and in the other, a rolling pin. A dirty apron was tied loosely around her body.  She hit Shima hard on the head with the rolling pin.

“I wasn’t…” Shima sighed softly and rubbed the bump forming on his head. He was pretty sure he was going to get a nice bruise because of it.  His whole head throbbed.  But, he was starting to get used to it.  He had been getting hit a lot lately.

In front of him laid open a book, but nothing like the one he was reading before.  This one contained only numbers, all in messy handwriting.  The cover of it was a coarse brown leather and the yellowed paper in it was rough and worn around the edges.

“Hurry up!  The shop is closing soon!” the woman ordered.  Shima nodded slightly and scribbled some more numbers into the book before him.  The woman watched him for a moment, then sighed and set the rolling pin down.  She took her baby up in both of her arms.

“Shima, I’m worried about you,” the woman stated and Shima glanced up at her.  He shook his head slightly and continued scribbling.  All he had to do was add the last sale for the day.  It’s not like they sold much in a day, anyways.

“I’m fine, so there’s no need to worry,” Shima replied.  He closed the book as he finished, stood up, and stretched.  He slung his bag over one shoulder and smiled. “Well, I’m off!  Thanks for everything!”

The woman glared at him and waved her finger at him. “Now don’t you say that! You make it sound like you’re never coming back!  I expect you to be at work tomorrow…and this time, I expect you to be on time!”

“Alright, alright,” Shima laughed slightly as he strode out of the store and into the early evening air.  He sniffed it and the soft scent of cinnamon and dry grass met his nose.  He smiled to himself and whistled as he walked away from the antique shop.  He always loved the smell of the village…it was his home.

Shima worked in a quiet little village. Little mud houses lined the canyon wall—some stacked upon each other and some just set on the ground. The ones above had little ladders of wood or rope leading up to them.  In the center of the town was the kirasu, or plaza.  The kirasu was actually not much of a plaza though; it was just a large square of land marked by a rug on which the villagers could rest and talk amongst each other.  Closer to the back entrance of the village were the small shops and guarding the front entrance was an arched gate.

Shima began his hard hike up the cliff’s edge.  He climbed slowly, for only thin sandals protected his feet from the rocks.  Once he reached the top, he stopped for a moment to look down at the village below him.  He could not only see the village, but also the scenery that spread beyond it.

Beyond the village was a twisted mountain path that led in and out of the cliff’s face and finally to the little village that nestled within it.  Before that stretched a desert as far as the eye could see.  The sand was occasionally broken by rocks or dry shrubbery jutting out, but it was mainly barren.

The sun was nearly set now, and Shima shivered as he felt the new coolness settle upon him.  The desert always got cool at night.  He pulled his trefan, a cloak-like garment, closer around his body and continued on down the other side of the cliff.  Half way down he stopped and crawled into a cave that was hidden behind some overgrown brush.  This was his home.

He crawled further inside and settled down quietly on the cavern floor. He lit a dim candle and the scent of cinnamon filled his cave.  He pulled out the book from his bag and flipped it open again.  The bookmark slipped from the pages to be forgotten on the floor.  He stared at the bright picture of the great, scaled beast that was spread out upon the pages before him.  His fingers ran over the foreign words and he tried to read them out loud.  They were written in strange symbols he could barely comprehend.

“Du-ra-gon…”

The soft jingle of a bell echoed off the almost empty room.  The room was thick with shadows, all except a little corner, which was illuminated by a torch.  In the corner opposite to this light crouched a shadow.

The walls of the room were built with bricks that jutted out oddly.  The floor was a cold, gray stone.  The room itself was round with an awkward break for the doorway.   The door was also made of stone, but it was covered in bolts and locks, most from the outside.  It was a dark and lonely place.

The bell jingled again and this time the shadow lifted its head.  It looked around the empty room then laid its head back upon its knees.  The bell jingled louder in response.

It is time…

The smell of smoke brought Shima awake.  He sat up quite alert and gazed around his dark cave making sure nothing was on fire.  No, there was no fire here.

Shima sat up now, more startled then before, and hurried out of his cave.  He pushed the bush aside and the smoke scent became heavier.  He scrambled up the cliff side and stood atop it and gasped.

Below him the village was burning.  He could hear frightened screams and smell the sick odor of burning flesh.  Dark figures seemed to dance gracefully against the backdrop of the flames, but he knew it was no dance.  The village was under attack and the people were in pain.

He covered his mouth in terror and tried to hide himself from the smell, but it wouldn’t leave him.  He fell to his knees and his eyes began to water against the smoke.  He began to gag on the stench, but he forced himself upright once more and started down the other side of the cliff to the village.

He tripped on a rock and tumbled down a ways; the rocks scraped the skin off his thigh to his knee in an uneven line of blood, but he ignored the pain and continued on, going as fast as his legs would carry him.  He couldn’t move very quickly, but he finally made it down to the bottom of the cliff side and to the back entrance of the village.

There, he stopped dead in his tracks.  He was too late; the screams of agony had died away along with their bellowers.  He was the only living thing now that dared trek this close to the flames.  He stared into the fire without really seeing and without really feeling.  The heat of the flames burned his skin, but he paid it no heed.  His vision was focused straight ahead.  On what? A cracked rolling pin and the body of a dead child.

The bell jingled again.  A dim light, like the rays of the sun, started to illuminate the room, but there were no windows.  The light was artificial, the prisoner knew.  Of course, for all he knew, the whole room was just an illusion, an illusion made to stop him from wasting away to certain death.  But either way, he could stand his prison no longer.

The bell sounded again and this time the prisoner slowly rose to his feet and gripped the bell hanging from his own cloak tightly.  To make a sound was to make one’s death.  He crept slowly over to the torch on the far side of the room.

Now his face was fully illuminated, and if one had been in the room with him, he would have gasped.  His hair fell to the top of his eyes in the front and was gathered neatly into a thin ponytail in the back.  It was an aqua color, considered odd in his land.  His eyes were a deep amethyst and the pupil’s resembled those of a cat, more of a thin slit than a circle.  His skin was a light tan; his figure was thin.  He was tall for his people, standing almost six feet into the air.

The prisoner wore dark pants and a gray shirt with a black tunic over it.  A dark cloak was wrapped around his shoulders and a bell hung from the collar.  He continued to grip it tight as he made even movements, careful not to sound the alarm.  Hung loosely around his neck was a golden necklace covered in the markings of an ancient civilization.  In the middle of it was an amethyst.

He moved more swiftly, now that the room was fully illuminated with the artificial sunlight.  The light beckoned and he did as it bid him.  He grabbed the torch from its hook on the wall and swung it in one swift motion.  The flames danced in a circle upon the air leaving a trail of smoke behind them.

It is time!

Shima slowly opened his eyes in a daze. Above him he could see the clear red sky of the desert and its rising sun, and below him he could feel the rough ground.   He stared blankly up at the sky as the clouds danced past him.  He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.  Why was he still alive?

Shima stood before the fire after he spotted the rolling pin for a bit more before he himself was driven into the fire.  He felt the heat of the flames eat away at his flesh and the smoke burn at his eyes.  His own blind fury drove him forward and then suddenly everything went black.  He thought he had died.

Yet here he was, still alive.

Shima rolled over and watched a lizard stumble past.  Its skin, once a beautiful gold, was now brown and its eyes were red and swollen.  Even though it was blind and burned, the lizard continued on.  Shima watched it for a moment more before sitting up.  He couldn’t give in so easily himself.

Shima glanced around to see where he was.  He was at the base of the cliff that led to his home.  It stood about ten feet above him.  Confused, he stood up and examined himself.  He didn’t have any visible injuries besides the long mark on his leg.  He sighed softly and started the climb up to his home.

“I don’t get it…” Shima mumbled to himself as he pushed past the bush that guarded his entrance and crawled inside the dark cave.  He felt around and soon found his bag.  Not knowing what else to do, he gathered up all of his belongings and shoved them in.  As he felt around, his hand touched the bookmark he discarded earlier.  He shoved it between two pages in his book and, after making sure he had everything, which wasn’t much at all, he scrambled out.

“I don’t know what to do,” Shima said softly to himself.  It was the truth.  He had nowhere else to go.  Would he have to live the rest of his life as a wandering hermit?  He sure hoped not.  His only wish in life was for a true home.

Shima gave his cave one last look before he trudged up the side of the cliff.  He knew where he could go.  A small smirk crossed his face.  But would he have the guts and strength to get there?

The prisoner continued to do his dance with the flame, one hand securely clasped to his bell and the other one wielding the torch.  The flames painted symbols and pictures across the air, leaving a smoky reminder behind them. The prisoner spun the flames in a tight circle, like a baton, and a dark circle of smoke formed.

Then suddenly the prisoner dropped the torch as if it had burned him. It fell to the ground and as it echoed off the wall, the fire faded from its tip and it returned back to its original form.  On the floor beneath was a dark scorch mark.

The prisoner pulled a small knife from his sleeve and used it to cut open the skin on his arm.  With the blood that now started to spill, he began to paint an intricate design around the dark scorch mark.  He painted symbols in an order that he knew by heart, and as a frame to the scorch.  Soon he finished the first ring and drew a circle around that before he went on to the second ring of symbols.  When that was completed, he drew two more circles around it. Then he stood up and gazed down at his creation.  He felt a little dizzy, but he shook it off.

The man glared down at the mark and bit his finger as if something wasn’t right about it.  He tore a piece of his cloak off and quickly wrapped it around his arm in an effort to save the precious essence of his life.

He growled slightly as he finished tending to his wounds.  He looked down in frustration at the magic circle before him.

Something wasn’t right.

Time is running out!

The prisoner ignored the hissing voice in his head and knelt down by the magic circle.  He looked up at the ray of fake sunlight just inches away and almost smiled.  He waited patiently for the light to hit the center of his drawing, and once it did, he jumped back to his feet.  He pulled his hands together tightly and began forming different figures with them.

Hurry!

Shima gasped suddenly as he felt a searing pain in his arm.  He looked down at it, but there was only untouched skin.  It had felt like someone had slashed the length of it.  Despite the fact that there was no visible damage and that Shima had assured his body there was nothing there, the pain continued to linger and torment him as he climbed down the path leading away from the village.  He had passed the arched gate about ten minutes ago, but his pace was starting to lessen because of the pain in his leg and now the pain in his arm.

“Damn it all!” Shima growled as he struggled down the winding path.  His bag was heavy against his shoulder and smacked his leg every time he took a step.  A small bruise was forming on his thigh because of it.

After another twenty minutes of this painful hike, Shima reached the end of the path and stepped out into the desert.  The morning was young, so the temperature hadn’t risen above seventy.  He tugged at the tall collar of his shirt and continued out into the sand.  He knew once he started walking he would have to keep going until he found a shadowed place to rest under.

Shima stumbled a bit as the bright light met his face.  The sun was peeking over the horizon, and at the angle from it at which he stood, it still managed to glare in his eyes.  He pulled the hood of his trefan over his eyes and started forward once more.

“I wonder what I’ll find.” Shima’s heart almost skipped a beat at his excitement.  He always wanted to go on an adventure, but he never thought it would cost him the lives of the village he called home.  He felt a little guilty.  He hadn’t been able to save them.

“I…” Shima almost stopped walking, but he forced himself to continue.  A grim look now spread across his face.  “I do this for them as well as for myself.”

The prisoner fell to his knees panting.  He had done it, now all that was left to do was wait and see if it worked.  He sat back and stared at the symbol on the floor.  He shut his eyes tightly and prayed that it had worked.  If it hadn’t—

Suddenly the ground began to shake.  The prisoner jumped to his feet and ran over to the wall that once held the torch.  He grabbed onto the hook with all his might and watched as the floor beneath him started to crumble away.  He fixed his feet against the wall the best he could, and hung on for his life.

The prisoner relaxed a bit when the ground stopped trembling.  The floor had completely disappeared from beneath his feet.  He slowly slid his foot down until it came to rest on a brick of the wall that stuck out just a little further.  He slid down to it and his hand grabbed onto the brick that was his last foothold.

Did you finish?  Hurry.  I’ll meet you at the bottom.

The prisoner heaved himself down to another ledge and repeated the same process as he did before.  He was very careful as he climbed, one wrong step and he would fall to his death.  He slowly slid down a little further as each second passed.

The prisoner heaved himself lower and used his foot to feel for another foothold.  He found it, but it wasn’t quite what he had hoped for.  The minute his foot was securely on it, it crumbled.  The prisoner reached for the brick above him, but he missed.  He lost his footing and stumbled down.

Help! He screamed inside his mind, though knowing he would not get any.  He closed his eyes tightly and tumbled away into the darkness.

Shima stumbled and fell down, face first into the sand.  He sat up and spit the sand from his mouth.  This definitely wasn’t the way he expected a hero to start out on a great adventure.  He sighed softly and pulled himself to his feet.

Suddenly, Shima’s hands hurt, and he glared down at them to see what was wrong, but there was nothing unusual about them.  He cursed slightly under his breath and continued on trying to ignore the new onset of pain.  At least the pain in his leg had died away, but his arm still hurt like crazy.

Shima moved along and his speed picked up.  His mouth was starting to get dry and the heat was starting to rise.  He groaned in annoyance and pulled his cloak open just enough to keep him cool, yet at the same time protecting him from the sun.

Suddenly he felt like the ground beneath him had vanished and as if he was stumbling down into darkness.  He panted slightly and hit himself in the head trying to get rid of the feeling, but it wouldn’t go away.  He wanted to cry out for help, but he knew it would do no good.  He sank into the sand and gripped his head tightly.

“What is this?!” Shima cried out.  Then, as suddenly as it had started, the feeling faded.  He blinked then stood up carefully and tested the ground.  All appeared as it should be.  What exactly was going on…?

The prisoner continued to fall for a few more seconds until a string of magic reached out and caught him.  It pulled him into the secret tunnel in the wall.  He landed with a thud and took a deep breath.

I thought I told you not to fall!  That wasn’t part of our plan!

The prisoner looked over at the angry beast standing next to him.  It was about the size of a cat, but with a slightly longer body.  Its fur was gold and two small wings sprouted from its back.  It had two little emerald eyes and two cat-like ears.  Its tail was long and bushy, resembling a weasel’s more than a cat’s, and the tip of it was violet.  On the top of its head were two antennae, and on the top of them were gold balls outlined in violet.  Hanging beside its tail were two string-like things that had a gold and violet feather at their ends.

Sorry.  The prisoner climbed to his feet slowly then glanced around them.  Where should we go now?

What a stupid question!  We follow this tunnel until we reach the end.  It should lead right out into that desert.

The feline creature narrowed its eyes at him then scurried along the tunnel.  The prisoner sighed and hurried on after it.

Make one more screw up like that, Naraku, and you’ll be looking towards your enemies for safety.

Shima stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the oasis in front of him.  Was he just imagining this, or was it really there?  He knelt beside it and gently dipped his hand in the water.  It felt real enough, but then again, almost every miuni would.  That was, after all, how mirages usually were.  Was this what the villagers meant when they spoke of a miuni, or was it the real deal?

“You can stare at it all day, boy, but it won’t make a difference.”  Shima looked up to see his boss standing there.  He jumped in surprise.

“What are you so surprised about?  Did you think all of us would die in that fire?” The woman smiled slightly and took Shima up in her arms.  “I thought I had lost you, too…”

“Shimura…” Shima said her name gently as he pulled away and looked up at her.  Her eyes were filled with tears.

“It was horrible, dear!  They took my baby…” Shimura broke out into tears.  Shima put an arm around her comfortingly.  She sobbed into his chest.  Shima bit his lip hard; he failed to do anything to stop the attackers!  He was as useless as always.

“Watch out!” he heard a voice cry out.  He looked away to see where it came from, but he left himself wide open.  The giant lizard that had disguised itself with illusion magic attacked him.

Shima didn’t have time to think.  The lizard pulled back and sunk its teeth into Shima’s arm, or at least tried to.  The man who called out to him took the blow for him.  The man and the giant lizard went rolling away from Shima in a giant heap of dust.

“Naraku!  Don’t get yourself killed,” A little furry thing called out as it sprang from the sand. It watched Naraku and the monster fight and sighed.

Shima grimaced as he felt a sharp pain cut through his arm.  He was starting to get used to the odd pains that he felt for no visible reason.

“Anya, you worry too much!” Naraku managed to get out while wrestling with the giant lizard.  The lizard lashed out at him again, and this time got him right across the cheek with its tongue.  The wound bubbled a little as blood dripped out of it.

Shima felt a sharp pain cut across his cheek the moment the scratch was put on Naraku’s face.  He gasped and looked over at Naraku once more.  Exactly who or what was that man…?

Naraku summoned a ball of fire to his hands and, with it, burnt the lizard to death.  It howled with pain before it died and sunk its teeth into Naraku’s back.  Then it fell silent and loosened its grip.  Shima winced as another sharp pain crossed his back.  That pain was much more intense than the others.

“Naraku!  Are you alright?” Anya screamed as she scampered over to her fallen companion.  Naraku smiled weakly and nodded his head.

Shima stood there and watched the two, astonished.  Never before had he seen such a unique and beautiful man, or the exotic animal that accompanied him.  It even had the power of speech!  Of course, he didn’t understand a word that had been shouted during the battle.

Shima slowly walked over to the two strangers and stopped when he stood before them.  Anya looked up at him and glared.

“Look what you did!  If you hadn’t been stupid and fallen into the hands of that Irakugara, Naraku never would have gotten hurt!”  Anya snapped at him.  He blinked at her.

<<I’m sorry your friend got hurt.  I thank you for saving me, though>> Shima replied not really sure if that was the correct answer.  Anya just stared back at him blankly.

“Anya, he doesn’t speak our language, it would appear.  I’m sure he didn’t mean any harm.  By the looks of it, he is one of the people who lived on the other side of the desert,” Naraku replied.  He coughed heavily as the Irakugara’s poison (Irakugara were poisonous lizards) started to take effect.

“Naraku!  I’ll go and get you some Ferengyun leaves!  Just stay here and I’ll be right back!”  Anya stated as she turned to leave.  She stopped before Shima.  “Stay with him.”  She motioned towards Naraku with her paw.  Shima nodded and sat down beside Naraku.  Once Anya was sure it would be okay, she went off to look for the leaves.

<<I’m sorry>> Shima said softly not thinking Naraku would understand him, but Naraku set a hand gently on his check.  Shima’s face flushed.

What’s this feeling? Shima thought to himself.  His heart was racing and all the pain he felt was suddenly gone.  He looked down at Naraku with wide eyes.

“Can I borrow your lap?” Naraku asked weakly.  He motioned with his hands the best he could.  Shima blinked and nodded.  Naraku set his head in Shima’s lap.

<<I’m really sorry…>> Shima apologized again.  This time Naraku reached out and squeezed his hand.  He gave the boy a weak smile.

The sun was setting when Anya returned with the Ferengyun leaves in her mouth.  She brought them over to Naraku, and with Shima’s help, he was able to eat them.  After he was given treatment, Shima helped Naraku walk as they went in search of shelter for the night.  They found a nearby cave and Anya led them inside.  There she used her magic to build a fire to help keep Naraku warm, and Shima gave up his blanket to the injured man.

“Anya,” Anya pointed to herself as she was trying to communicate with Shima.  Shima nodded his head.

<<Shima>> Shima replied and pointed to himself.  Anya nodded her head and pointed to Naraku.

“Naraku.”

<<Anya>> Shima stated as he pointed at Anya to make sure he got it right then he pointed at Naraku. <<Naraku>>

“Shima, hungry?” Anya asked.  She offered Shima a piece of the giant lizard Naraku had killed earlier.

<<Hungry>> Shima stated and took the meat, “Hun-ga-ry.”

“Anya, don’t treat him like an idiot,” Naraku stated.  He rolled over and watched Shima eat.

“I’m not!  I’m trying to teach him our language and pick up a little of his!” Anya defended herself.

“How old do you think this kid is?” Naraku asked as Shima noticed the staring.  Shima turned away.

“By looks, I’d guess about twenty,” Anya stated, then changed her mind, “But the desert makes you grow up faster.  So maybe fourteen?”

“Too bad he’s so young,” Naraku stated.  He rolled back over on his side. “I’m going to sleep.”

“All right, old man,” Anya snickered slightly.

“Hey, twenty-two isn't that old!”  Naraku snapped then grumbled something under his breath.  He pulled the blanket up to his chin and within minutes he was asleep.

<<I’m making trouble, aren’t I?>> Shima asked, not really expecting an answer.  Anya glanced at him and shook her head slightly.

“Don’t worry, Shima.  It’s time to get some rest.”

Anya stretched her body and circled around until she found a comfortable spot among the rocks.  She curled into a tight little ball and slowly drifted off to sleep.  Shima stood as a silent guard until she was finally asleep.

He sighed softly and pulled his bag from his shoulder.  He shifted it around and made it into an uneven pillow.  He slowly laid his head against it and stared at the flickering flames before him.

<<So much fire…>> he muttered as he buried his face into his mock pillow.  He never thought that the element he had relied on all his life would become that which he hates the most.  He screwed his eyes tight and tried to block the images away.  After what seemed like forever, he fell into a broken sleep.

Chapter 2

Roselane sat up erect in her chair, as she had been told to do many times before, ever since she was a child.  This was the first time her father had permitted her to eat with them; she didn’t want it to be the last time.  So there Roselane sat in her beautiful red kimono, her face all painted up.  She didn’t look like much more than a doll.  But, that was what was expected of her at these things.  She had to prove that she was the prim and proper heir to the Dragon Empire.

“My daughter, have you finally learned what it means to be Daughter of the Dragon?” the man before Roselane asked.  He wanted to have this dinner a long time ago, but his wife kept insisting that their daughter wasn’t ready.  Seeing her before him now, he started to doubt whether his wife had ever been right about their daughter.

“Yes, my lord,” Roselane replied with a deep bow of her head.  She was careful not to let her long silver hair dip into the soup before her.  Most of her hair was pinned up on her head, but a long strand framed the left side of her face.  Her mother gave her a small smile.

“My dearest pearl, how do your lessons go?” the Dragon Empress asked.  She too wore a beautiful red kimono, but hers was covered with flowers, and on the back was a long, snaking dragon.  Her hair was black and she wore it entirely upon her head in a bun.  She was the real pull behind the Empire, and Roselane hated her for it.  Her father was just a spineless coward at the whims of her mother.

“They go well, my lady,” Roselane replied.  She dipped her head to her mother too, but she made sure not to bow as deeply as she did for her father.  After all, in her society women had their place below their men, even if the ranking in the palace was perpetually skewed.

“My lord!” A messenger suddenly threw open the doors to the dining chamber and hurried inside.  He knelt before his lord.  He was trembling slightly.  But of course!  Anyone who was told to interrupt a ruler during his meal would be scared, especially when it came to a gluttonous man such as the Dragon Emperor!

“What is it?” the Dragon Emperor asked in annoyance.

“The Son of the Phoenix has escaped!” the man cried out.

“What?!” The Dragon Emperor roared in fury and picked up the young messenger, who was trembling with fear, by the collar of his shirt.

“Go find him!  We can’t lose him!” the Dragon Emperor shouted angrily and flung the messenger back.  The messenger bowed and hurried from the room.  The Dragon Emperor and his Empress followed him without so much as a word to their daughter.  When they were all gone, Roselane rose from her seat.

“Faun, are they all gone?” Roselane asked into the shadows.  At the sound of her master and her name, a young elf girl emerged and knelt before her.  Her short blonde hair gently brushed her long ears as she bowed.

“Yes, my lady,” Faun replied.

“Good, let us return to my quarters,” Roselane replied.  She was tired of having to stand around and act proper.  Faun picked up the back of her kimono and they scuttled from the room and down the hall.  Soon they left the main hall and entered one of the side corridors.  They went down this corridor, too, until it ended and they were met with the rush of cold air.

“It’s a bit chilly tonight,” Roselane whined, “I’ll need another blanket.”

“Yes, my lady,” Faun replied.  The two of them hurried through the garden and into another part of the palace that wasn’t connected to the main building.  They stepped inside and headed to Roselane’s room.  When they were safely inside, Roselane bid Faun to close the door and lock it.

“Did you hear the wonderful news?” Roselane asked when they were safely settled inside.

“Yes, my lady, the Son of the Phoenix has escaped,” Faun replied as she helped Roselane slip out of the several layers of heavy kimono.

“If they cannot find him then I do not have to marry him!”  Roselane clapped her hands together in joy.  She threw herself on her bed and giggled.

“Be careful, my lady, don’t let one good thing go to your head,” Faun stated quietly as she replaced the kimono back into its closet.

“You’re right; I shall never forget that,” Roselane stated.  Then she headed off to go take her bath.

Shima cracked his eyes open.  His back ached from the hard ground and something tickled at his nose.  He opened his eyes the rest of the way and glanced over to see Naraku’s head next to his.  He blinked, and then realized the man’s hair was what had been tickling his nose.

Naraku rolled over.  Shima’s face was just inches away from Naraku’s now. Shima flushed and struggled to sit up.  A sudden pain rocked his lower back, though, and caused him to fall back over.

“Shima…” Naraku cooed softly into Shima’s ear.  His lips brushed up against it.

“Naraku!” Shima rolled over to face Naraku with a look of surprise on his face.  Naraku chuckled softly and ruffled Shima’s hair.

“Good morning, boyo,” Naraku laughed and sat up.  He rubbed his lower back slightly.  “Rock isn’t pleasant to sleep on.”

“It’s about time you woke up!  You are always so lazy!” Anya snapped when she saw the two boys move.  She walked over to them and hit Naraku in the nose with her paw.

“Hey, little Phoe!  What’s for breakfast?” Naraku asked as he messed up Anya’s fur.  Anya let out a low growl and pulled away.

“More of that giant lizard!  We’re not wasting it!”  Anya stated as she groomed her fur back into place.

Come to me.

Shima looked around him, but he couldn’t figure out where the voice was coming from.  It sounded...somewhat familiar.

“I always love eating lizard in the morning,” Naraku joked and Anya hit him on the nose again.  He laughed and messed up her fur again.  Their little fight continued on, much of it in the same way.

Come to me!

Shima slowly stood up this time and started walking to the entrance to the cave.  Both Anya and Naraku looked over at him.

“Boyo, where you going?” Naraku asked.

“Shima?” Anya called after him, but she got no response.  It was like he was in a trance…she shook the thought away.

“You don’t think we said something that offended him, do you?” Anya asked.

“No, he can’t even understand us,” Naraku replied.  He looked over to where Shima had been sleeping.  “I don’t think he’s leaving though.  His bag is still here.  Maybe he just has to go relieve himself.”

Come to me now!

As the voice rang through Shima’s head, he started to run and ran right out of the cave.  The bright glare of sunlight and the intense heat of the desert morning greeted him.  He stopped for his eyes to adjust and the tip of a sword met his throat.

“Who are you?” a soldier demanded as he thrust his sword closer.  Shima had stumbled out right into the middle of a group of soldiers who were all clad in black.  On the breast of each one was a golden dragon, and below it, a badge with their rank.  The only thing that had meaning to him though was the dragon.  The ranking made no sense to him.

“Duragon,” Shima said as he pointed to the symbol and gasped.  He didn’t understand what it meant, but he thought he found someone who could tell him about the dragon.

“Are you stupid?  It’s dragon,” one of the soldiers barked.  He had short blonde hair and a scar ran across his eye.

<<Can you tell me about the…>> Shima thought for a moment, struggling to say the word right, “Dragon?”  He finished his question, but the men only understood one word of it.

“What do you think this kid wants?” another soldier asked.  This one had short red hair.

“Something to do with a dragon.  He must not be from these parts,” the blonde soldier replied.

“What should we do?” the soldier standing before Shima asked.  He still held the sword near his throat.  This soldier had short brown hair.

“Capture him,” the commanding officer ordered.  He was a man of about forty-five and his hair was brown with gray streaked through it.

“Yes, sir!” All the soldiers saluted then formed a circle around Shima.  Shima blinked and backed up, only to run into the tip of another sword.

<<What’s going on?>>  Shima gasped.  The soldiers couldn’t understand a word he said, but just by looking at the expression on his face, they assumed he understood what was happening.  Shima put his hands up and waved them.  <<Please stop!>>

“I think he’s going to put up a fight, sir,” the red haired soldier said.  The commanding officer growled under his breath.

“Then take him by force!” he ordered.

Shima let out a scream of pain as one of the men stabbed a sword into his arm and dragged it down the length.  He tried to pull away, but failed as another soldier grabbed his free arm and twisted it behind him.  He was knocked to his knees.

As Shima struggled to his feet, another soldier punched him hard across the face and he stumbled back into the sand.  A soldier pinned him down while another stepped hard on his arm. He heard a loud cracking sound.  The soldier on his back shoved his face down into the sand and held it there until Shima could no longer breathe, then let him up before repeating the process.

“Do you think we should beat him more, sir?” the blonde soldier asked.  The commanding officer shook his head as a nearby siren went off.

“Come on, men! We have work to do!” the officer ordered and his soldiers marched away, leaving Shima down on his knees in the burning sand.  On their way past, the brown haired soldier kicked Shima.  He fell face first into the sand.

“He’s not worth it!” the officer laughed as he hurried away.

Shima could hear the men’s boots crunching over the sand, but he couldn’t bring himself to his feet.  He could feel the blood running down one of his arms and a dull sensation in the other one.  When he was sure they were gone, he lifted his head a bit off the ground.  It never felt so heavy before.

“Shima!”  Shima looked hazily around for the owner of the voice and through his eyelashes saw Naraku running towards him.  He rolled onto his back, but his vision had started to blur worse.

“Shima…” Naraku propped Shima up with one of his arms.  He picked the boy up carefully and carried him back into the cave at a run.  Once he was in, he set Shima down and began undoing the boy’s shirt.

<<What are you doing?>> Shima tried to pull away, but he could barely move.  He groaned and settled back down.

“I think he’s scared,” Anya stated as she approached them.  She gently licked Shima’s face, trying to reassure him.

“Relax.” Naraku gently stroked Shima’s head as he finally managed to get Shima’s shirt off.  He muttered angrily as he set it aside, “Damn shirt…” He growled even louder when he saw the armband high on Shim’s left arm, but he left it.

Shima closed his eyes as he felt Naraku’s hands slip over his body and stop at his arm.  Naraku poked it, though Shima did not feel it.  The dull pain had slowly vanished and was replaced by an odd feeling of numbness. Shima was on the verge of falling unconscious.  Naraku lifted it up and moved it slightly, careful not to injure the boy anymore than the soldiers already had.

“I think it’s broken,” Naraku said to Anya.  Anya nodded.

“Once we find out everything he needs, I’ll go out and get it,” she said.

“We’ll need bandages and something to stop infection…it can be temporary.  We’ll treat him better when we get to a town,” Naraku explained and when Anya nodded in approval, he continued to examine Shima.

“Now for the pants…” Naraku stated as he started to undo Shima’s pants.  Shima rolled away with a start.

<<No!  I’m fine!>> Shima stated.  He wrapped his arms protectively around his body.  A sharp pain shot through his body when he did so, but he ignored it.

“Shima…” Naraku tried to pull Shima’s arms away from his body, but he failed.

<<Please, just leave me alone>> Shima buried his head into his chest as he curled up into a ball.  Naraku looked over at Anya, but Anya just shrugged.

“Well, if that’s it then I’m off,” Anya said after a moment, then made her way out of the cave and into the desert.

“Shima!”  Naraku settled himself beside Shima and stared at the boy.  Shima made no move to uncurl and look back at him.

The Phoenix is watching you.

A shiver went down Shima’s spine and he felt a hand lay soothingly on his head.  That voice was haunting him.

“Relax,” Naraku stated.  His hand ran through Shima’s dark blue hair and settled at the back of his head.

<<Relax…>> Shima muttered quietly.  He thought he finally understood what Naraku was saying, “Relax…”

“You’re a smart one, huh?”  Naraku patted Shima on the head and Shima uncurled.  He rolled on his back and stared up at the man beside him.

<<Relax>> Naraku smiled.

Anya sauntered back in after a while with some herbs and grass in her mouth.  She set it before Naraku and he went straight to work.  After about twenty minutes, he had Shima wrapped and helped the boy get back into his shirt.

The pain had lessened now and Shima was able to move slightly.  He crawled over to his bag and tried to pick it up, but only succeeded in spilling the contents out.  He started shoving his belongings back into his bag.

“What’s this?” Naraku asked as he picked up the book from the floor.  Shima reached to grab it, but Naraku moved and opened it.  Shima fell to the floor beside him.

“Can you read this?”  Naraku asked as he pointed to the page with the dragon on it.

“Dragon,” Shima replied.  He pointed to the picture and to the word.

“What about this?” Naraku had flipped a few pages and was now pointing to a picture of a brilliant fiery bird.  Shima stared at it blankly.

<<Bird of Fire>> Shima replied with a questioning look.

“It’s a phoenix,” Naraku stated.  Anya had settled down beside him.  “Anya is a phoenix,” he pointed to Anya then back at the picture in the book, “and I am the Prince of the Phoenix…or the Son of the Phoenix as those stupid Dragon people say.”

“Dragon?”  Shima blinked and Naraku sighed.

“I pity you.  You have no idea how unfortunate you are to have run into me,” Naraku sighed.

“Don’t pity him!  Besides, you saved him,” Anya scolded.  Naraku ruffled her fur.

“Phoenix,” Shima pointed to Anya.  Then he pointed at Naraku, “Prince of Phoenix.”

Shima took the book from Naraku’s hands and flipped through the pages until he got to what he was looking for.  He held it up and pointed to himself.  Naraku read it aloud, “Scorpion.”

Faun crept through the palace halls with a tray of tea held securely in her hands.  Her slippers helped silence her movement, but she still moved on almost tiptoe.  She really had no reason to sneak; she had every right to be here.

The elf slowed when she neared an open door and she crept past it slowly, careful, not to be heard but to hear everything that was said.  She could hear voices inside, the voices of the Dragon Emperor and his wife.

“What are we to do if we can’t find him?”  The Dragon Empress was speaking as she paced, irritated, around the room.  Her husband watched her and shook his head.

“I don’t know!  If that stupid boy hadn’t run off, it would have never come to this mess!  Without a male, we’re doomed,” the Dragon Emperor stated gloomily as he stood up and gently seated his wife.  They both sat in silence for a moment.

“That’s it!”  The Dragon Empress was suddenly lifted by a surge of joy.  She clapped her hands together and jumped from the bed.

“What is?”

“The other boy!  Our boy!  You know, the one that we lost to Gaiden...”

“He’s lost, what can we do about it?”

“We find someone to play him.  It can’t be that hard to find someone who looks like him.  He is, after all, much different from his sister.  He looks more like Gaiden, dark skin and dark hair.”

Faun got past the door and hurried off down the hall, careful not to give away her presence.  She was stunned by what she had just heard.  The Lady had a brother…?  She stumbled slightly, but caught herself and her tray.

“I mustn’t get distracted,” Faun whispered to herself.  She took a deep breath and hurried back to her Lady’s room.

“Stay calm.”  Naraku motioned with his hands, ignoring the pain that was running through his body as well.  He gently picked up Shima and placed the desert boy on his back.

“Naraku…” Shima was startled, but he did not struggle.  He remained calm.

“Good boy, Shima,” Naraku said and patted him on the back the best he could.  Anya narrowed his eyes at him.

“Don’t treat him like a baby…or a pet!”  Anya snapped.  She hoisted Shima’s bag around her neck and started off ahead of them.  Naraku laughed and followed after them.

“Be careful not to fall off.”  Naraku motioned with his hands.

“Not fall off,” Shima repeated and Naraku laughed at him.  Shima looked at him funny.

“You’re doing fine,” Anya said to Shima as she glared over her shoulder at Naraku.

“I’m not sure, but I think we’ll need to show our clan marks in the next town,” Naraku said after a while.  Anya sighed and nodded her head.

“I suppose we shall…but what about Shima?  We’ll be okay because it is a dragon-free town,” Anya stated.

“Scorpion mark?”  Naraku asked as he rolled up his sleeve to reveal the tattoo of the phoenix on his shoulder.  Shima rolled up his sleeve and pointed to the armband.

“Well, it does have a scorpion on it,” Naraku said half-heartedly.  He turned back to Anya. “Do you think that is how desert people mark their clans?”

“No, it isn’t.  Shima must have belonged to another clan first.  Even in our clans that’s how we cover up the mark of an old clan.  They cannot be removed,” Anya stated after she thought for a moment.  Naraku looked over his shoulder at Shima. Shima just stared back at him.

“Shima of the Scorpion clan, huh?” Naraku let the words float through his mind as he thought about them.  The name Shima sounded familiar; however, it wasn’t the Scorpion clan that was attached to it.

“Dragon?”  Shima suddenly said.  Naraku looked up to see that Anya had stopped and in front of them stood the group of guards that Shima had run into earlier.  They were camped, but they looked up when they heard Shima speak and they stared at their new arrivals.

“What brings soldiers of the Dragon clan all the way out here to this desert?”  Naraku asked.  Anya slunk back, hoping not to be noticed. Luckily for her, the guards’ eyes were locked on Shima and Naraku.  She was able to disappear entirely from their sight even while handing Naraku the bag.

“We are searching in the name of the Dragon Emperor,” the commanding officer stood up and saluted.  Naraku lifted his hand up in return.

“That boy you carry with you…” the red haired soldier started to ask a question, but Naraku interrupted.

“He is of a desert clan far on the other side.  He does not speak the tongue of this area, even though he is learning,” Naraku stated.  He could feel Shima’s body began to quiver and he whispered, <<Relax>>

“Naraku,” Shima buried his face in Naraku’s hair and left his head there while Naraku continued a little closer to the group.

“We apologize for hurting your friend.  We couldn’t understand what he was saying and didn’t know if he was friendly,” the blonde soldier was now standing up.  Shima buried his face deeper into Naraku’s back.

“I understand, but Shima cannot,” Naraku stated with a slight smile.  Shima glanced nervously over Naraku’s shoulder.

The blonde soldier hurried over to the two and Naraku had to hold Shima down to keep him from jumping from his back.  The soldier stopped before them and held out his hand as an offering of peace.  Shima stared at it.

“Shima, take it.”  Naraku motioned with his hands then shook the man’s hand to demonstrate.  Shima bit his lip and nervously held out his hand.  He shook hands with the soldier and pulled his hand back quickly.

“They come in peace.”  Naraku didn’t know how to motion with his hands, but he did the best he could.  “They won’t hurt you.”

“No hurt?”  Shima managed to get out, not really understanding what it meant.

“No hurt,” Naraku smiled at Shima reassuringly and Shima nodded his head slightly.

“Please come and feast with us.  Today we have caught the Bird of Prey, Fregaru.”  The blonde soldier invited the two over and they followed.  Anya followed them, but she kept herself hidden behind the rocks.

“I just got back from raiding a village on the other side of the desert,” one man was boasting to another man, “and we gave them what they deserved.  Killed every last one of them.”

Naraku forced a smile as he sat down and set Shima down beside him.  For once, he was glad Shima couldn’t understand what was being said.  Shima sat close to him and still watched the soldiers warily.  The blonde soldier sat beside him.

“My name is Rholis,” the blonde soldier said with a warm smile.  He passed a plate of food to Naraku and Shima.

“I’m called Naraku,” Naraku stated.  He elbowed Shima in the ribs slightly and whispered as he motioned to Rholis. “Rholis.”

“Shima,” Shima stated, not really understanding, but he said his name anyways.  Rholis smiled and patted Shima on the back.

“No hard feelings now, Shima,” Rholis stated.  Shima just stared at him.

“Shima, relax,” Naraku said and Shima nodded slightly.

“He can understand you?”  Rholis asked with a bit of surprise in his voice.

“Just a little.  I was teaching him some words earlier.  He doesn’t know that much though,” Naraku explained.  He watched as Shima picked at the bird meat and placed a tiny bit into his mouth.

The red haired soldier sat down beside Naraku and stared at Shima.  Shima glanced away and back at his plate.

“I’m Roy,” the red haired soldier said.  By the sound of his voice he couldn’t be any older than nineteen.

“Roy is the newest member here,” Rholis said with a little chuckle.  Roy’s face turned red and he stared at his feet for a moment.

“What are you searching for?”  Naraku asked, then after a moment of silence added, “If you may answer that question.”

“We’re looking for a man…he belongs to the phoenix clan,” Roy replied.  “You haven’t seen anyone suspicious, have you?”

“The Phoenix clan wanders freely in these parts, though, so the search isn’t easy,” Rholis added.

“Sorry, but the only thing suspicious I found was Shima here.  Why would a person of the desert have wandered so far away from his village?”  Naraku cocked and eyebrow waiting to see if he got an answer.

“I hate to say this but…” Rholis glanced nervously at the ground. “As of late we have been short on supplies, so the Dragon Emperor ordered us to retrieve some from the desert people.  I would not be surprised if Shima was the only survivor from his village…”

Naraku glanced over at the desert boy next to him with a look of pity in his eyes.  Shima was all alone, and yet he didn’t seem to care about it.  Shima continued to eat the bird, ignoring the stares.

“I’m guessing that the desert people weren’t cooperative,” Naraku stated and Rholis nodded sadly.

“I hate killing people,” Roy mumbled and Rholis nodded in agreement.

“But you know, if the rumor is true, then this whole kidnapping of the phoenix is just plain pointless,” Roy suddenly said.  He smiled slightly.

“Rumor?” Naraku repeated the word.  Shima blinked at him.

“Rumor?” Shima repeated.

“Yeah, I heard a rumor that Roselane isn’t the Dragon Emperor’s only child.  They had a son, too, but he was kidnapped and they never found him.  So instead of continuing to search for him, they just erased him from the records,” Roy stated.

“And you believe that shit?” Rholis chuckled.

“I never said I believed it, I was just telling you what I heard!” Roy pouted.  He stared down at his hands.

“Well, rumors say a lot of things, that’s why they’re rumors,” Naraku added quietly.

“Rumor?” Shima said again, but no one was paying attention to him now.  All eyes were focused on the horizon where the sun was slipping from view.

<<Looks like it’s going to be a dark night>> Shima said to himself more than anyone else.  Naraku glanced at him.

“I bet you can read the weather, huh?”  Naraku stated and Shima just started at him.  Naraku pointed to the sky, “Weather.”

“Weather?”  Shima blinked slightly and looked up at the sky.  He pointed up to the sky and Naraku nodded his head.  Then Naraku took a stick and drew a rain cloud in the sand beneath them.

“Weather,” Naraku stated and Shima nodded.

“Is this how you’ve been teaching him?” Rholis asked as he watched Shima curiously.

“Unfortunately I don’t have any books with me, so I am just trying to teach him to speak our language right now.  When I came upon him, he had already taught himself the word ‘dragon’,” Naraku chuckled softly.

“That’s weird…” Rholis thought aloud.  Roy shrugged.

“I thought so, too, but he has a picture book.  I guess that was the only word he managed to decipher,” Naraku stated.  Naraku pulled the book from Shima’s bag and handed it to Rholis.  He flipped through it curiously with Roy watching from over his shoulder.

“This is…!”  Rholis gasped and Roy looked at him in confusion.

“What is it?”  Roy and Naraku asked in unison.  Shima looked up and reached for his book back.  The other three ignored his silent plea.

“Gaiden’s picture book!” Rholis exclaimed.

Altier

A one shot dark fantasy.  Potential for a sequel in the future.

“Altier’s world is turned upside down by a prophesy that forces him from his home. Joined by his dear friend and a once-enemy, he must seek out the dark spire from the visions and bring its terror to a close. In a new and magical world, each day is a struggle with powerful enemies on their tail. The further he journeys, the more he realizes that in a world of magical creatures, he just may be the strangest one."

Paperback- https://www.amazon.com/Altier-Sanzaki-Kojika/dp/1517666945/

Ebook - https://www.amazon.com/Altier-Sanzaki-Kojika-ebook/dp/B01715I74M/

Altier

Sanzaki Kojika

I.

The dark and foreboding tower rose up against the twinkling sky, an ominous shape against the shower of stars above.  Its twisted shape drew shadows towards it, welcoming them into its embrace.  It shared its darkness with the land around it, casting shadows over the surrounding landscape.  As if the land felt the wickedness of the tower, the trees snarled upon themselves, their rotting bark and shriveled leaves clinging to their empty shells.

The wind howled as it blew past, catching in the hollowed arches of trees and rocks.  Stray debris was carried with it, drifting ever closer to the menacing tower.

Against the darkness, the tower sparkled.  The sole light on top of the tower flashed briefly before disappearing into the darkness around it.  Every few minutes it would reappear, acting as a beacon to those who searched the dark tower out.

Beneath the tower, the land was still with the coming of night.  No living creature ventured close to the monolith by choice.  The animals that once called this land their home long since vanished.  The only creatures foolish enough to remain were the ones who had desolated the land in the first place.

From high up on the tower, the moonlight caught on a bit of silver before it passed beneath a cloud.  There was a loud clink as a small ventilation shaft on the side of the tower burst open.  The cover tumbled down, crashing to the ground below it.

The figure paused, daring to catch his breath.  The chains on his ankles and wrists clinked with every little movement.  Even high above the ground, and no guards in sight, every little sound worried him.  It would just be a matter of time before they found him.

After a quick breather, he continued forward.  He used the twisted spikes jutting out of the tower as footholds as he pulled himself along.  Even though he knew it was useless, he couldn't stand to be inside that tower any longer.  Even be it to his death, he needed to escape.

As predicted, the alarmed shouts rose up behind him only moments later.  Their voices carried with the wind, spreading to the other parts of the tower.  He could hear newcomers joining in all around him.  Still, he pressed on.  He would never go back inside.

He suddenly heard a voice behind him.  Panicking, he jumped, skipping some of the spikes as he surged around the tower.  Luck was with him this time though.  He landed hard on a small overhang jutting out for one of the lower levels.  He caught himself with the spikes he had tumbled down from and slowly pulled himself back up.

He wasn't sure what compelled him to climb to the top of the tower.  He knew it was the only way to get free though.  Something inside him told him it was the truth.  Like the voice of a temptress, it whispered to him, luring him higher into the sky.

He pulled himself higher, resuming his climb upward.  Faster, higher.  He climbed and climbed.  His arms and legs were sore and stiff, but he forced himself to continue on.  If he took a break, it would all be over.  He could rest when he was finally free from that tormented prison.

"Allo-ox!" one of the guards screamed up at him.  Like he would listen.  He wouldn't stop.  He wouldn't climb back down.  Higher and higher, that's all he would do.  Closer to the dangerously sharp point at the top of the tower.

"Immen jung na!" another guard shouted.  Oh, he was starting to worry them.  So what if he fell?  It didn't matter to him.  Either way, he would be free- with or without his life.  He would no longer stand for being locked up in that awful place.

He swung his feet onto a spike, pulling himself up onto it.  Higher, higher.  He must climb higher!  He struggled to his feet before moving on, continuing his dangerous trek up the tower.

Slowly, he covered the distance.  The land beneath him vanished into the abyss of shadows.  He felt like he could reach out and touch the distant stars.  There was no time to enjoy the scenery though.  He was in a hurry.  He still needed to get higher.

He continued his ascent, delicately scooting around the tower as he moved higher.  The voices behind him were getting closer.  Unlike him, they had equipment and tools to climb further and faster than he could ever hope to on his own.  They were quickly gaining on him.

He hurried, pushing himself as fast as he could without tumbling to his death.  He wasn't ready to give in yet, not when he was so close.  The light of the tower continued to beckon to him, blinking on and off.  In a few more feet, he'd be upon it.

As he neared it though, the guards chasing after him finally caught up.  He felt one of their hands enclose around his ankle, just below the shackle.  He tried to kick the man away, but each movement was only loosening his own grip on the spike he was clinging to.

Reality came crashing back around him.  His flight was over.  No matter what he tried, they would catch him and drag him back.  He glanced down, glaring at his assailant.  He would never let that happen.

Even if his life ended, he had no intention of returning to that prison.  Somehow he knew this is what it would come to.  Still, the instinct inside of him drove him to flee.   He couldn't explain it, but he had been ready to leave this place even before it drove him out onto the tower.

He took a deep breath, preparing himself.  He gathered all the strength he could muster into his free foot, and finally, he was able to kick the guard free.

Before the guard had a chance to catch him again, he sprung high, barely catching onto the spike above him.  He twisted up onto it, slinking over towards the edge of it.

He could hear the frightened cries below him.  So what if he fell?  He expected nothing less.  But, rather than fall, he'd like to make his own choice.

He scooted closer to the edge, peering down into the darkness.  The thick shadows that surrounded the wicked tower blocked out anything he could hope to see below it.  It didn't matter though.  There was no way he was surviving this.

He took a moment to let out his breath, slowly closing his eyes.  That's right.  This was the only option left to him.  If it meant returning to that prison...he'd rather greet death with open arms.

Without turning back, he could hear and feel the guards approaching behind him.  There was no more time left.  He took one step forward as he opened his eyes.  He was ready.

Without any hesitation, he leapt forward, lunging from the spike.  The alarmed cries of the guards rose up behind him, but they quickly faded.  As he fell, the wind rushed past him in a deafening roar.  He stared straight down, wondering if he would be able to see the ground before he crashed into it.

As he fell though, his mind was spinning.  He strained to stay conscious, but he knew it was only a matter of time before the darkness took him.  At least, that way, his last moments wouldn't be pained.  It would be the first time in his life that he was free from pain.

He squinted forward, the world slowly growing blurry around him.  He could feel the darkness closing in on him, and he let his eye lids droop.  Right before the darkness took him, he could swear he saw a sliver of blue.

As he fell, the guards up above on the tower watched in horror.  How could they have let this happen?  He was one of their most important specimens, after all.  There was sure to be hell to pay.

They rushed down, foolishly believing there was still some way to save them him.  They all stopped in their foolish scurrying when there was a bright flash of light.  A glance over to where he had been showed them that both the light, and the boy, had vanished.

The warm ocean breeze drifted over the land, bringing with it the sounds and smells of the ocean off its shore.  The birds squawked happily as they lazily glided through the air, looking for their next meal or just a place to rest.  They swooped low, chasing after shadows in the water and clinging along to the few boats that were headed towards their home on the shore.

The sandy beach spread out along the ocean, circling around it to form a cove.  The old, yet still sturdy docks that stuck out into the water jutted out from a small town set back hundreds of feet from the shore.  Just beyond the shore and the town rose a jagged line of cliffs, rising into mountains and trapping the shoreline, and the town, from the world beyond it.

The small ocean-side town was built into the cliff, climbing steeply upwards into the rocky mountain.  The sandstone and wooden houses and stores stuck out awkwardly from the side of the cliff.  Jagged paths and crooked stairs climbed with them, allowing for the citizens to make their way upward from the shore.  Bright colored streamers and flags decorated the town, strung along from building to building, accenting the tan colored town.

Pale wooden railings lined the stairs and paths where they neared too close to the edge, acting as a weak protector to the citizens.  Every now and then, a string of multi-colored flags dangled down from the railing, trailing down towards the water.

The murmur of the city and the sounds of the ocean were blotted out by a loud horn as one of the boats moved into the harbor.  The brave explorers were finally returning home.

The instant the horn sounded, she was moving down the stairs, racing towards the shore.  Her long golden hair whipped behind her, straining against the small tie that held it in place at her neck.  She nearly tripped on the skirt of her blue pinafore as she flew downward, ignoring her own safety as she hurried towards the docks.

People outside of their village were sure to think of her and her people as "strange."  On top of her head, just above delicately pointed ears, were two small wings.  As her people aged, the feathers grew longer.  For a young girl like her, still a child, they were barely noticeable.  Though they served no use now, her people liked to think they symbolized the power of the person.

On her forearms and lower legs were small, light golden feathers.  Her boots rose to just below her knees, hiding the feathers on her legs, save for a few stragglers that had managed to peek out near the top.  Her long, tan sleeves were rolled back, revealing her arms up to her elbows.  Her feathers and skin were coated in a thin layer of dust, proof of the hard days she spent at work tidying up for their return.  She hadn't even bothered to remove the dingy apron before rushing down to meet them.

By the time she arrived, she was winded, gasping for breath.  There were several others already there as well, mulling around the dock.  The boat slowly dropped its anchor, bringing a small splash of water with it.  The boat itself was small and rustic, hand-made by its people many years ago.  It was still sturdy though and had weathered many storms.  It was the favorite vessel to use for exploring, and its owner was always the adventurer.

She squeezed in through the crowd, pushing her way to the front for a better view.  Ah, she could see him now.  The vessel's captain was just as rustic and sturdy as his ship.  His massive body contrasted the long wings that sprouted from his graying hair.   His facial hair had long ago turned gray, and it was thick around his mouth and face, trailing down past his chin.

She smiled at the sight of him.  Though they looked nothing alike, they were blood related.  After losing her parents at a young age, it had been he who had taken care of her.  Though he was her grandfather, she often thought of him rather as her father.  He was the only parent she had ever really known, after all.

"Minme!" he grinned down at her, waving at the sight of her.  She quickly waved back and broke through the crowd.

"Grandfather!  I'm so glad to see you're finally back!" she moved forward, opening her arms for a hug.

"We're glad to be home," he chuckled, bending down to catch his granddaughter in an embrace.  However, something behind him caught her attention, and she rapidly changed courses.

"Altier!" she squealed, instead throwing herself at her dear friend as he tried to disembark from the ship.

He caught her awkwardly, nearly falling back into the water, and almost taking her with him.  He quickly recovered, straightening up and gently patting her on the head, "Minme, please be careful!"

She grinned up at him.  Although some frowned upon Altier living in their village, she was quite fond of him, despite his differences.  A dull, teal cloth was tied awkwardly through his dusty colored hair, covering his ears and where his wings would be, trailing down behind him.  A small strand of beads was tangled up in it, dangling down across his forehead.  He always wore long pants and tall boots that covered his legs, and gloves and gauntlets that covered his arms.  Despite his awkwardness with Minme's clan, he had lived amongst them for many years, and Minme and her grandfather had accepted him into their family.  No matter what anyone tried to say, he was one of them now.

He finally managed to free himself from her grasp, making his way the rest of the way off of the ship.  The other men still aboard chuckled a bit, but he paid them no heed.  He was used to Minme's overly zealous shows of affection.  She was still a child, and he held no malice towards her, despite the constant embarrassment.

She followed after Altier, only to be stopped by her grandfather.  He gently tapped her on the head, shaking his own head, "Silly girl!"

She quickly turned her attention back on her grandfather, "Oh, did you find anything interesting?"

"Interesting, hm," he folded his arms across his chest, "Well, depends on what you consider interesting.  For us, just traveling to a new island is interesting enough."

She pouted, "You know what I mean!"

Altier paused, turning back towards them, "Gingak, we should probably make our report to the Elders."

The old man gave Minme a gentle shove, "He's right, we've got to go.  I'll tell you all about it when we return later."

She continued to pout, watching the two leave.  The other men were only moments behind, save for the couple that stayed behind to unload the ship.

Gingak quickly caught up with Altier, smacking the boy in the back of the head.  He was always so cold to Minme in public, but in the privacy of their own home, he spoiled the young girl.  Gingak couldn't help but think he behaved that way for the girl's protection.  Though the townspeople no longer tried to force Altier out, there were still a few who were less than happy with him living amongst them.  Regardless of who he was now, he started out an outsider.  With the cliff keeping them isolated from the rest of the continent, it was no wonder so many of their people became so obstinate about outsiders.  Altier had more than proven himself though, and it was the elders that decided to let him continue to live with them.

"At least call me Captain," he chided the boy, trying to suppress the grin crossing his face.  As far as he was concerned, Altier was as much his family as Minme.

Altier glared back at him, but there was a playful look in his eyes, "Would you rather me call you grandfather?"

"Like hell!" Gingak snorted.  The words didn't sound right coming from Altier.

They made their way through the town, ascending the steep steps towards the upper part that housed the Elders.  Their town's government was tricky, relying on an ancient ritual to choose who would rule them.  Though they called them "Elders," some of them were far younger than Gingak.  To put it simply, it was magic that chose them.

At current, there were three Elders.  Throughout history, their people had only known three or four Elders at one time.  Though the final decisions for the town depended on them alone, they always saw to it to hold public meetings, hearing out what the citizens would say before making any of these decisions.  It had worked for the many thousands of years this town and its people had been in existence, even long before the town was formally recognized as such.

Altier sighed.  He could never understand it, but he had accepted it.  He felt that Gingak would make a far better leader than the others, but he had no say.  He never dared to voice his opinion aloud to anyone save for Gingak and Minme though, knowing full well what the repercussions would be.

It wasn't like he wasn't grateful to the Elders, anyways.  It was the three currently in charge that allowed him to live here.  He had been stranded on an island just off the shore, struggling to survive.  He had nearly drowned before making it to that island; his first memory before that being drifting alone in the crashing waves around him.  It was Gingak and his boat that found him and carried him to their home.

Regardless of how much he looked or acted like them though, he would always be an outsider.  There were always differences he could never hope to overcome.  He saw the suspicions in the eyes of the people when he was first brought in, struggling to keep conscious.  Gingak and his granddaughter that could barely speak for her youth nursed him back to health.

When he was better, he did try to leave.  Minme had foolishly followed him though and ended up stumbling into a trap by their enemies.  He couldn't just leave her alone, and he risked his life to save her.  He returned, with the little crying girl in tow, covered in scrapes and bruises, but still alive. It was then that the Elders announced he would continue to live amongst them.

For the ten long years since then, he did all he could to keep the townspeople happy with him.  He worked hard, accepting small, trivial tasks that often times no one else would take.  He was no stranger to danger, and he even had gone as far as acting as a bodyguard, or retrieving items that were stolen by the other clans around them.  Each scar that covered his body had its own story to tell.

He didn't really mind it though.  It kept him busy, and it allowed him a place to live.  Even though there were still some who had their doubts about him, in the open, they all treated him politely.  A few others had even offered him their daughters’ hands in marriage, but he always refused.  It was funny how quickly people could change their minds.

"We're here," came a hoarse whisper from just in front of him.  Altier quickly returned to the world around him, stopping himself just in time before he crashed into Gingak.  He heard snickering behind him, and he risked a glare back at the other men on their crew to silence them.

He followed Gingak around to the back of the building, careful of his steps on the rickety porch that wrapped around it.  He knew it had held for hundreds of years and would hold for hundreds more, but he could never help but be nervous about walking onto it.  The rest of the crew was fine, and he assumed that if he had grown up in a town that climbed towards the sky, things like heights wouldn’t bother him at all, either.

Gingak rapped on the small, oval shape door.  The building itself was awkwardly large compared to its door which barely allowed some of the people with larger wings to make their way in.  This door was reserved for private meetings with the Elders though.

On the other side of the building, facing the shoreline and the rest of the town was a much larger set of double-doors, used to enter the main meeting hall nestled just inside.  The rest of the building was set to house the Elders, as well as a small divining room and a larger meeting hall for the private meetings.  Though there was a passageway that connected the main meeting hall to the rest of the building, it was understood that unless invited in through the door in the back, no one could enter any other room.

The door slowly slid open, and a raspy voice uttered, "Enter, Sir Gingak, Sir Altier."

Altier paused.  Usually, he waited outside for Gingak just like the others.  It was obvious that he was Gingak's right-hand man anymore, however he still held no power, nor did he want any.  He was satisfied to stay in the shadows, helping out without recognition.  Though he wanted to stay in the favor of the townspeople, he also didn't want to overstay his welcome.

"Come on," Gingak grabbed him roughly by the arm.  The old man pulled him through the door, letting it click behind them.  Altier glanced back, even more nervous now that he was inside.  He had been in here before, when he was a child, but that had been only a few months after his arrival to this town.  Since then, he had acted like any normal citizen.

Gingak let Altier go as he made his way over to the small dip in the floor.  He knelt down, folding his legs beneath him before he sat.  He kept his back straight, and his hands folded in his lap.  A moment later, Altier joined him, following his example.

The dark shadows in the room gave it the effect of being circular.  The lighting was dim all around, only a few candles acting as the light source.  The walls seemed to sparkle beneath the shadows, as if representing the night sky.  The wooden floor dipped near the middle, allowing visitors to be seated within it, but the Elders still to be above them.  At the end of the room, two deep blue curtains were tied partially back, revealing the three figures Altier knew to be the Elders.

Even though he could not see them clearly in this light, he knew who they were.  On the far left sat Elder Rachio, the oldest of the three Elders and possibly, the oldest surviving member of their clan period.  His long wings were shaggy near the ends, proof of his age.  His long gray hair was loosely tied back as it trailed onto the floor.  His moustache and beard followed in its example, the moustache flowing down into the beard, and the beard folded into his lap as he sat.

In the center sat Elder Juliantia, the only female amongst them.  Her wings were not as long as Elder Rachio's, but they still easily touched the ground when she stood.  Strands of her reddish hair draped around her face, while the rest was pulled back tightly into a braid that ran down her back and ended at her knees.  She had started to wrinkle with her age, but she was still a rather handsome woman and she had many admirers amongst the community.  The feathers on her arms and legs matched her hair.

Last, but not least, was Elder Emerian, the one Altier liked and hated the most.  He was the youngest of the three.  He looked to be not much older than Altier, although Altier knew better than that.  This clan was full of longevity and graceful aging.  Still, he was much younger than the other two.  Also, unlike the other two, he had no family, insisting that he need not marry or have children.  He enjoyed his solitude at home, and when he sought out company, there were plenty of the women, and even some of the men, who would easily give him a night without expectations.

Altier hated to admit it, but even he could see Elder Emerian's charm.  His good looks and enigmatic personality were quite alluring.  His pale hair with its greenish tint hung loose around his face and down his back.  He kept it shorter than the others, allowing it to cut off at his lower back.  His wings were only a few inches shorter than Elder Jualiantia's.  He was pale all over, and he tended to dress himself in light fabrics as well, almost giving him the appearance of an apparition at times.

"Thank you for coming," Elder Rachio spoke, his raspy voice filling the room, "Let us apologize for the hasty invitation of the young Sir Altier, however, his presence is most necessary at this time."

Altier remained silent, glancing over at Gingak.  Altier had a sharp tongue, and was quick to say things that could be deemed as disrespectful.  It was better to leave the conversing to the older man, especially when authority figures were involved.  He was certain that if he spoke, his discontentment with being called in would show through.

Gingak bowed his head, "It is an honor to speak with you.  Altier's invitation does come as a surprise, however we do not question your wisdom."

"You must have many things to tell us," Elder Rachio continued, "Please tell us of your ventures first."

Gingak straightened up, "I wish there was more to tell you, however we learned little on our excursion.  The island we set foot upon appeared to have once been inhabited, but there is no sign of life now.  It's as if they were wiped out entirely, without a trace.

"The few ruined remains we did find showed signs of damage from the Fenrir, but I highly doubt they are capable of entirely eradicating an island so simply."

Elder Juliantia frowned, "Indeed, so it was as we expected.  Although we never made contact with those neighbors, we saw their vessels frequently in the distance.  With their disappearance, that makes them the third island to fall prey to the same fate."

"This is no longer a simple issue," Elder Rachio agreed, "I fear it is only a matter of time before this evil reaches our island.  Pray tell, did your search party find any clues as to what was the cause?"

Gingak shook his head, "No, my humblest apologies.  There was nothing there that I could understand, however, Altier may be able to offer you more insight."

Gingak elbowed Altier in the side.  He jolted up, barely staying upright from the sudden pain.  He glared over at the older man, but the look Gingak gave him made him quickly kept his mouth shut.

Altier glanced back to the Elders.  He could see the glimmer of their eyes as they stared at him, anxiously awaiting what he would have to say.  Altier didn't even know where to begin though.  He had no solid facts.  Everything he had told Gingak during the investigation of the island was pure conjecture.  He felt it foolish to voice those opinions aloud to people as important as the Elders.

The silence quickly filled the room.  Altier knew they expected him to speak now, but he struggled to find the right words.  Why did Gingak have to go and call him out?  He rather remain a spectator in matters like this.

"It's fine, please speak your mind, as you would to Sir Gingak," the dreamy voice floated out across the room as Elder Emerian spoke.  The shadows couldn't hide the small smile that played across his lips.

Altier narrowed his eyes.  There was no escaping it now.  He took a deep breath as he gathered his thoughts, "I really don't know any more than Gingak.  I can only speculate on what happened."

He paused, weighing his options.  Just like Elder Emerian, there were many secrets that Altier kept as well.  Admittedly, his memories of his life before he came here were nothing more than vague feelings, but there were things he knew he couldn't talk to anyone about, not even Gingak and Minme.  And especially not the Elders.

After a moment, he continued, "Like Gingak said, everyone on the island vanished.  Even the buildings and their belongings were mostly gone.  The buildings that remained look like ruins from a people lost many hundreds of years ago.

"Although we found traces of damage from the Fenrir, it looked far more recent, and I suspect they were investigating it as we were.  Chances are, they weren't even the first ones to do so.  In any case, it's pretty safe to assume that they came back with nothing, like we did."

"But you have a theory, correct?" Elder Emerian coaxed him on.

"Yes," Altier was hesitant as he spoke, "The power to annihilate a people in this manner is not something native to this area.  None of the known clans are capable of that, as you full well know.

"You also, know, too, that it was a similar incident that led Gingak and the others to finding me, all those years ago.  The entire island was bare of life save for myself.  I may have been barely conscious most of the time, but I assure you there was no one there by the time I managed to get to shore.  However, I think it must have been within hours of the incident, since I can remember that eerie feeling in the air."

Gingak grunted, "It wasn't as strong, but Altier said he could feel it there, too."

"Young Altier is sensitive to magic, at least since we found him," Elder Emerian chuckled softly.  Without knowing what the energy really was, Elder Emerian had long ago nicknamed the power "magic."  The term was accepted by most of the ordinary citizens, but the other Elders, and even Gingak, did not condone his use of the word.  Magic was supposed to be something kind and wise, not a dark power that could destroy lives so easily.

However, Elder Emerian was right.  Call it what they would, Altier was strangely acute to the energy in the air.  Be it used for evil or good, the young man could feel it as it stirred.  Where this ability came from, no one knew, and not even Altier himself wished to guess.  He had no intention of ever recovering whatever memories he had lost.  Either way, his ability to notice magic was both a blessing and a curse.

Elder Rachio nodded his head, "Yes, it would be foolish to dismiss Sir Altier's intuition.  We will research into this and see if we cannot find a more solid lead.  Perhaps we can even discuss this with the more friendly clans and try to do something as a group effort."

"However, that also brings us to why we requested Altier's presence, too," Elder Juliantia added, barely taking pause to rest, "A divination has decided a task that only he is up to."

Altier frowned.  There was only one thing he could do better than the others, "I am to leave, then?"

Elder Emerian chuckled softly, "Don't sound so somber.  It is not that simple.  Although it is true that you are the only one who can easily leave this place."

"Do not worry," Elder Rachio added, "it is because we trust you that we ask this of you."

Altier still couldn't help but feel he was being pushed out, but he knew there was nothing to argue.  Despite his many years amongst this clan, he was an outsider to begin with.  What tied the others to this area had little meaning to him.  It was for the convenience and security of this village that he had remained.  His life here was far from stable though, and it was easy to assume this day would eventually come.

Gingak placed a hand on his shoulder, reassuring the younger man with a quiet murmur, "Hear them out first, before you get up in arms."

Altier sighed. He knew he was jumping to conclusions far too quickly, but the Elders had already confirmed his suspicions.  Regardless of the reason, he would be leaving the only home he could remember.

Elder Rachio inclined his head, "Yes, please do not take it to heart.  You have earned your place amongst us.  We will never revoke that privilege.  However, there are things beyond our power.  We must request your assistance this time."

"Our divination always proves true," Elder Juliantia continued, "and thus we must be prepared for it to become a reality.  Our last vision showed you in a faraway land, standing before a dark spire as it collapsed."

Altier's eyebrow twitched.  A dark spire?  There was something ominous about it, even in just the vision he built up in his mind.  There was nothing like that anywhere near here.  He hadn't even glimpsed such a monstrosity during his travels with Gingak.

"We do not know where or when this will happen, however as it was divined while searching out information on the trouble in the area, we have no doubt that this tower is involved on some level.  As we saw you clearly in the vision, we must ask that you undertake the task of finding this spire and bringing it to ruin," Elder Juliantia didn't falter for even a moment as she spoke.  Any fear or misgivings she had, she held within her heart and refused to let any sign of weakness show across her face.

All Altier could do is nod.  It wasn't like he had a choice, after all.  Whenever the Elders spoke, they spoke the truth.  Even if he tried to deny them his assistance, in the end, he would eventually leave and end up where they had envisioned, anyways.  There was no way he could escape it.

"We wish that you depart by the end of the week," Elder Rachio took over, "We will continue our investigations here, and we ask that you undertake your own research and try to find this dark spire.  Should we uncover any more information on our end, we will be quick to share it with you.  We hope you will do the same."

Altier slowly rose, bowing his head curtly, "I will do my best."

Without giving the Elders a chance to say anymore, or even waiting for Gingak, he hurriedly made his way from the building and out into the warming light.

II.

"Check."

Again...the vision slowly came back to his mind.  The world was dark around him, but he could make out the dim candle light that illuminated the center of the room. It was a flickering ball of light amongst the dark shadows.

"Check," the girl hunched over the table almost seemed cheerful.

Still, he made no move.  He watched with little interest as the chess pieces moved themselves across the board.  Their movements were sluggish and slow, and he couldn't help but feel they reflected his mind.

"Cheeeck, sheesh, you're not even trying today, are you?" the girl was draped in shadows, so he couldn't make out her face.  He somehow knew she was beautiful though, despite the scars that ran across her skin.  He traced her image in his head, but he couldn't fully form all the details of her face.

There was a quiet thud as one of the pieces tumbled into another.  Ah, he really was losing badly today.  He just didn't feel like playing though.  All he wanted to do is go back to sleep.

"Checkmate."

Though she was victorious, a scowl crossed her face.  It wasn't supposed to be this easy.  She almost never won against him. That's why she always chose him as her opponent.  Be it chess or real battle.

He could see her disappointment, but he had nothing to offer her as an excuse.  While she was anxious, he was listless.  It was clear to see how the experiments were starting to affect the two of them.  It wouldn't be long now before they wouldn't even be able to play a simple game like this together.

He didn't want to stay here anymore.  She may have relished in the joy of the anguished cries and tortured screams, but he couldn't take it anymore.  He was breaking down.  He didn't want to forget his humanity, even if she could forget hers.

"You've gotten so lame, lately," she scowled again, slamming her fist into the board.  The table wobbled, and many of the pieces spilled off of it, tumbling helplessly to the floor.  He watched them with little interest, somewhere in the back of his mind the memory unfolding.  This was their only refuge after all.

He glanced up at her, trying to focus.  It was hard though.  It felt like all of his energy had been sapped.  It was a struggle to get himself out of bed each day.  There were times when he literally had to be dragged out.  He couldn't handle much more of this. He was going to break apart.

She slowly stood up, closing the distance between them.  She leaned forward, cupping her hands around his face and bringing her forehead against his.  He could feel her warmth, her pulse, her breath...somehow, she was still alive.  Somehow, they were both alive against all odds.

She pulled away, pouting down at him.  He tried to force a smile, tried to convince her he was alright.  She knew better though.  She always had been able to see right through him.

Suddenly, he was nervous.  He couldn't explain it.  Maybe it was a change in the air of the room, or even a change in the young girl that stood before him.

"Big brother."

He shot up, tearing out of his slumber.  He was sweating and breathing heavily.  That dream again...he couldn't understand it, but it scared him each and every time.  Nothing about it seemed frightening though, at least on the surface.

"Altier!" Minme was seated beside him, a bowl of water and a wet towel in hand.  She must have rushed to his side when she heard him screaming.

"I'm alright," he assured her, struggling out of the blankets.  They were twisted around his legs, and it was a fight just to climb out of his makeshift bed.  Finally freed, he discarded the blankets onto the thin, straw mattress and scooted over towards Minme.

"You've been having nightmares a lot more frequently recently," Minme frowned, dipping the towel back into the water.  Despite Altier's protests, she proceeded to dab the sweat off of his forehead.

He gently brushed her hand away, "Yeah, things have just been hectic, is all.  Now that I'm back, I have some time to rest."

He had to stop himself from saying anymore.  He just lied to Minme.  That wasn't anything new to him per say, but it didn't make him feel any better about doing it.  His leaving would hurt her the most.  There were still several days before he would head out though.  The least he could do was not worry her.

She sat back, pouting.  He wouldn't tell her what he saw, no matter how much she pestered him.  She had a feeling it was the same nightmares over and over again, but she could never give her suspicions any truth.

Altier turned and glanced out the window.  The sun still was hidden just below the horizon.  It would be another couple hours before day was upon them.  He knew he wouldn't be able to get back to sleep though.  Not after that.

He chewed on his lip as he tried to make sense of the dream.  Who was that girl? He could never see her clearly.  And although he was seeing the dream from the other person in the room, he had a feeling that he was an outsider to the scene entirely.  It made no sense to him, no matter how much thought he gave it.

Minme slowly rose to her feet, setting aside the bowl and the towel.  She walked towards the window, stopping to stand next to the kneeling Altier.  She squeezed at her skirt, the pout never fading from her lips.

"Minme," Altier said after a moment, not even bothering to look up at her.  She remained gazing ahead, out the window towards the end of twilight.

"I'm not keeping it from you to be mean," Altier tried to explain, "I just don't even understand it myself."

"But still," Minme mumbled, "if you told me, maybe I could help you understand it!"

"No, you've never been outside of this town! How could you hope to understand something that has nothing to do with this place," he shook his head.

She angrily turned towards him, stamping her foot down into the dusty floor, "I have been outside, even if it was just once!"

He glared up at her, "Hah? That time!  How can you call that being outside! You followed after me, and just ended up in a trap!  If I hadn't been there, those Coons would have killed you!"

"I would have been just fine!" she sneered back, knowing it was a lie.  If it hadn't been for him, her life would have been lost that day.

He sighed, turning back to the window, "Think what you will, but it won't change anything."

He stood up, making his way towards the doorway.  He could hear Minme behind him, the girl confused as to what to do.  He paused before the straw curtain that acted as a door, just long enough to give her the desired information, "I'm going out for a bit. I'll be back in a couple hours."

Minme tried to call him back, but her voice was lost by the thud as the curtain smacked back into place.  He hurried through the hut, making his way out into the dim light.  He started down the stairs, but a prickle in the air caught his attention.

Altier quickly whirled around, ready for whatever might be waiting for him.  To his surprise, he found himself facing Elder Emerian.

Elder Emrian chuckled softly, "I can't sneak up on you now, can I?"

Altier narrowed his eyes, "Elder, is there something I can do for you?"

Although there were times when he did like the Elder, he was always suspicious of the beautiful man.  Who knew what he was plotting behind those serene cerulean eyes?

Elder Emerian continued to chuckle, "That part of you is cute, you know. Your crippling suspicion."

Altier glared over at the man, but he said nothing.  He was right, after all.  Altier was a bit suspicious of everyone, especially those in power.  He couldn't help but think they always had their own hidden agenda.

"If there's nothing, I'm going," Altier said after a moment, hoping to get away from the man.  But, as he expected, Elder Emerian gently grabbed his arm.

"Come walk with me, Young Altier," he grinned over at the younger man.  He lead Altier back up the way he came.  Instead of heading towards Gingak and Minme's hut though, he moved on, climbing another set of stairs.  He continued to lead Altier upward until they reached one of the two entrances to their town.

Both of the "entrances" were secured and usually kept shut.  Today was no different.  The guards standing around this entrance moved the gate away, allowing Elder Emerian and Altier to pass.  Altier could read the doubt in their eyes, but no one was foolish enough to question one of the Elders.

Altier hesitated as they passed through the gate, glancing back at the town.  He was unsure of where Elder Emerian was taking him.  He had snuck out of town plenty of times on his own, and even sometimes was asked to run short errands to the outside.  Beyond the cliffs and gates that sealed in their town though, the land was deemed unsafe.  Dangers could lurk in every corner.

"Relax," Elder Emerian offered, squeezing Altier's arm.  Without waiting for Altier to respond, he dragged the young boy out of the gateway and onto the uneven dirt road that led away from their home.

Altier allowed himself to be led, knowing there was no way he could fight the older man.  Not only was the man one of the Elders for their town, he was also a strong and powerful fighter, or so rumors told.  Altier believed it from the stubborn grip on his arm.

"Where are we going, anyways?" Altier finally asked.  The guards and the town were just blurry shadows behind them.  He hoped that whatever Elder Emerian wanted to say, it was safe to do so now.

Elder Emerian finally let go of Altier's arm, taking the lead as they walked.  He kept his voice quiet as he spoke, "We're going to go pick someone up."

Altier cocked an eyebrow, "Pick someone up?"

"Yes," Elder Emerian quickly replied.

Ah, he had no intention of telling Altier anymore.  The younger man frowned.  Well, he had figured as much but still.  He was hoping to have at least the faintest idea of what they were about to do.

They continued in silence as Elder Emerian led Altier away from the town and back into the forests that fought to grow upon the rocky cliffs.  Altier had visited the forest a few times during his time here, but he never went further than them.  He wasn't foolish to think himself invincible.  He was not much stronger than Minme, when things came down to it.  He may be able to fight better than her, but she was stronger mentally.  He was fully aware of his weaknesses.

The sky behind them grew brighter as the sun finally peeked over the horizon.  The shadows were cast around them, stretching into the forest and swallowing up the path and brush in their wake.  A thin mist veiled the forest, streaking out towards the two people that dared venture towards it. It swirled around them, but the dark shapes of the trees and rocks were still visible in the wispy greyness.

Elder Emerian showed no change to his demeanor, so it was hard for Altier to gauge what the enigmatic man was up to.  He continued to lead them forward, almost into the forest.  Suddenly, he turned, changing their route to alongside the trees.  He made his way beside them, following some invisible path that Altier couldn't even begin to try and fathom.

The Elder led on nonchalantly, taking a casual pace as he encircled the forest.  He knew where he was going, even if his companion did not.  He had to hide the smile forming on his face.  He was looking forward to seeing what Altier's reaction would be.

He stopped himself from laughing.  Oh, what the old man and the overbearing woman would say!  They had fought against Elder Emerian's idea to bring the boy along.  He saw no harm in it though.  Regardless of what the divination had predicted, the result would be the same.  All it told them was that someone would have to go out and "greet" this new "friend."  Why not Altier?  It made perfect sense in his mind.

As they rounded a tree and came to a sudden dip in the road, Elder Emerian slowed.  He nodded to himself; it was somewhere around here.  He scanned the area with his eyes, trying to find the exact place in the vision.  It didn't take him long to find the small drop off.

"Young Altier," he suddenly spoke up.  Altier jolted up behind him, caught off guard by the sudden dialogue.

"Y-yes?" Altier did his best to quickly recover himself.

Elder Emerian didn't bother to hide his smile.

"Could you please go investigate that cliff?" he pointed out towards the rocky drop off.  He knew it didn't go down very far, however, there was no way Altier could know that.  He had no intention of letting the young man know that, either.

Altier hesitated before nodding his head slowly, "Um, sure."

Altier left Elder Emerian standing there, glancing back just in time to catch the other man laughing.  What the hell was so funny?

He crept forward, on edge after seeing the Elder's reaction.  There must be some reason why the Elder had asked him to go investigate alone, rather than coming with.  He strained to listen for any unusual sounds, but all he could hear was the quiet rustle of the leaves from the nearby forest as the wind whisked past them.

He continued scooting forward, waiting for something to happen.  However, he reached the small cliff without any problems.  He paused just a few feet from the edge, taking in the area before going any closer.  So far, there was still nothing unusual.  Maybe he had worried for nothing.

Altier let out his breath and closed the last couple feet between him and the edge of the cliff.  He glanced down, trying to keep himself from laughing.  The drop was only six feet at most. He imagined he could reach the ledge from the ground below it with little effort.  The dip in the area seemed a bit unnatural, but he could tell it had been there for years.  There was nothing particularly unusual about it.

After a few more moments of investigating the rather placid looking cliff, he turned away and shrugged.  There was nothing there. What had made Elder Emerian act so strangely?  In the end, it was just a simple cliff.

He was about to take a step forward when suddenly something wrapped around his ankle.  His mind quickly went to work, taking in the feel of claws, prickly fur, and smooth skin as it tightened its grip. Before he could turn around and see his attacker though, he was pulled roughly downward.  He crashed to the ground below the cliff, landing hard on his back.

He gasped for air, the wind knocked out of him.  His head was spinning from the sudden force against it.  He tried to get up, but his attacker still held him tightly by the ankle.

"Die!" came the hoarse whisper from above him. He reacted quickly, tearing free the small dagger at his hip, lunging blindly towards his attacker.

Finally, he was released, the dangerous attacker jumping out of the range of his blade.  Altier struggled to his feet, this time making it up into a crouching position.  He shook his head to clear his vision, ignoring the throbbing pain.

As his vision focused, he could make out the enemy before him.  He tried to keep calm, instantly recognizing the man for what he was.  The dark, furry ears that stuck out from beneath the mop of unruly black hair at the top of his head and the dangerous looking claws that ended his fingers beneath the small patches of rough fur gave his clan away instantly.

"A Fenrir!" Altier's voice caught in his throat.  He had heard the horror stories of them before, but this was his first time seeing one in real life.  He may have more training than some of the others in their small, isolated town, but he was still sure he would not survive the assault of one of those wicked beasts.  Fenrir's were always known as a dangerous monster by the clan he now lived with.  The blood dripping down from his ankle and the pain running up his spine and head was proof to that.

The Fenrir growled, lowering himself down to the ground, "Stupid feather brains!  I'll tear you apart!"

The Fenrir snarled and lunged at Altier.  Altier tried to block the attack, but the Fenrir easily caught the dagger in its claws, tearing the weapon away from the smaller man. He kicked Altier hard in the abdomen, slamming the man back into the ground. He jumped on top of Altier, slamming all of his weight down into the weaker man.

Altier cried out in pain.  He could hear a cracking sound as the Fenrir bore down on him.  Altier reached up, clawing at the monster, trying to force it off of him.  The Fenrir was far too strong for him though.

The Fenrir dropped its head, slowly opening its mouth to show the wicked rows of teeth. He bit down into Altier's shoulder, threatening to tear away the skin on the area. Altier pounded against the Fenrir's back, trying to force it off of himself.

The Fenrir suddenly yelped, letting go of Altier. He flew back several feet, skidding across the ground.  He twitched, trying to stand back up.  The force of the blow had him wheeling though, and he couldn't bring himself to even crawl.

"Tsk, tsk," came the smooth voice behind them, "we can't have you breaking our little toy now, can we?"

Altier forced himself to his knees.  His body was shaking, but he was at least able to raise his head to glance up at Elder Emerian as the older man approached.  His body was in agony.

"You bastard!" Altier snarled up at Elder Emerian, no longer caring to keep up the formalities.  He was beyond pissed.  Elder Emerian must have known about what was lying in wait. Why else would he have sent Altier out alone?

Elder Emerian chuckled, "I admit, I thought you would do better against him. I misjudged your strength."

Altier just continued to glare daggers at the older man.  He wanted nothing more than to punch Elder Emerian right now. Fortunately, for the both of them, Altier had no strength left to do anything of the sort. He could barely even stand.

Elder Emerian ignored Altier and instead went over to the Fenrir. He knelt close to the snarling man.  He leaned closer and whispered something inaudible.  A moment later, the Fenrir was out cold.

Elder Emerian stood up, easily hoisting the Fenrir beneath his arm, despite his thin and frail appearance.  He was still smiling as he walked over to Altier, offering the younger man a hand up.

Altier scoffed and smacked the hand away, struggling to his feet on his own.  He was hurting all over, but he wasn't about to accept any help from that manipulative bastard.  He was too angry to do so, especially right now.

"I can't believe you had me do that, knowing he was there!" Altier muttered to himself, wobbling after Elder Emerian.

"Oh?" Elder Emerian glanced back at him, "Perhaps I did know he would be there. However, I couldn't predict how he would react."

"The least you could have done was stepped in sooner!  He could have killed me!" he snarled back.

"Oh, I would never let that happen.  You're too important to us, right now," Elder Emerian tittered.

Altier was out of energy to continue the argument any longer.  He just glared at the enigmatic man and let his frustration roll around in his mind.  He would make sure to get back at the Elder one day, no matter what it took.

Elder Emerian was beaming.  Altier's reaction was just what he hoped for.  And moreso, he was able to prove his hunch.  Altier was indeed a special boy.  He couldn't wait to see what the other Elder's reactions would be.  They certainly wouldn't be expecting that.

But, he would be right, in the end.  That was all that mattered to him, really.  A chance to put the other two in their place was something he had been dreaming of since he first joined.  Altier was his secret ally for that purpose.  He was but an unknowing pawn in Elder Emerian's little game.

Complain all they wanted, it wasn't like he was risking the boy's life.  He wouldn't let Altier die; he couldn't.  Altier was much stronger than the others gave him credit for.  And of course, with Elder Emerian there to protect him, there was very little that could even hope of standing a chance.  Elder Emerian wasn't being arrogant when he thought of his own power.  Through experience he had learned the true power of his own strength.  In the world he knew, only the other Elders could hope to stand against him.

A small smile played across his lips.  Ah, but in the world beyond his knowledge, he was sure there were monsters that not even he could survive.  That was where Altier would have the advantage.  While Elder Emerian's abilities had long ago stagnated in growth, the boy's potential was unknown.  He imagined that one day, Altier would be able to even best him a battle, should the boy put his mind to it.

But things like that were something only the fates could know.  Speculate all he wanted, Elder Emerian would never have that knowledge.  Even the foresight granted through divination was limited.  There were so many things about it they could never understand.  Some of the visions hadn't even come to pass as they should.

He liked to think that there was no true art as divination though.  Rather than one path, he viewed the future as a maze.  All they could see were glimpses of one possible outcome.  The events that led up to it were unknown, so it was impossible to know if they would become truth.  Even though often they became the future, there were misses, too.  It made sense to him to interpret it that way.  The other Elders chastised him for his weak belief in their deities, however he couldn't help but think his open-minded view of them was exactly why he had been chosen for the job.

He giggled to himself.  It was an endless struggle, trying to decipher the unfathomable.  He treated it as a game to help pass the time.  Right now though, he was far from bored, with their new prisoner, and the young Altier, in tow.

"You said we were going to pick someone up," Altier broke the silence, his curiosity getting the better of him, "So this is him, then?"

Elder Emerian laughed, "Yes, indeed."

The silence settled upon them again, albeit briefly.  Elder Emerian had no intention of offering up information without the boy asking for it.  It wasn't like he had been told to keep it from Altier, or anyone for that matter.  It was just yet another game he liked to play with the younger man.

"What's going to happen to him?" Altier asked after a moment, his voice hesitant.

Despite Altier's anger and hatred of their enemies, he was a gentle soul.  He would fight and risk his life to do so, but unless it was necessary, he would not kill.  Whatever pain he had suffered in the past, it helped him grow stronger.  Elder Emerian easily admitted to himself he was jealous of the boy's inner strength, but he would never voice it aloud.

"Oh, don't worry," Elder Emerian finally decided to give the boy an answer, "He won't be killed.  He has important work to do, after all."

"What work?" Altier narrowed his eyes.  There was something about the tone in Elder Emerian's voice that put him on edge.

"Maybe it's best to say bodyguard work? Well, it doesn't really matter, but you'll know soon enough."

Altier glared at the back of Elder Emerian's head.  The man was avoiding his questions.  He could guess where it was going though, and he didn't like it.  Instead of indulging the playful man with his tormented game, he decided to change the subject.

"It's strange though, for a Fenrir to be this far out.  I wonder what brought him out here," Altier thought aloud.

"That is indeed a good question," Elder Emerian agreed, "But, until he awakes, we won't know for sure.  I imagine it can't be anything good though."

"Well, we saw traces of the Fenrir on that island, but aside from that, we really don't see much of them anymore," Altier added.

"Yes, and although it may be a blessing that our greatest enemy no longer poses such a threat, one can't help but wonder if there is not an even greater enemy that is hunting them down."

Altier frowned.  He was thinking the same thing, but he hadn't the courage to voice it aloud.  If there was really something even stronger than the Fenrir moving in...he couldn't help but wonder how long their little isolated village would last.

"Ah," Elder Emerian added, "but we received no notice of danger from our divination.  It's easy to assume that at the least, our deities would try and protect us.  They have warned us in the past of Fenrir and even Azecoon attacks."

Altier lifted his head.  He had always wanted to ask this, and now seemed like the perfect time, "Then, did you know ahead of time? About Minme getting caught by the Azecoon?"

Elder Emerian could not hide his amusement, "Oh, you're such a capable mind, young Altier.  Indeed we did.  But we also saw your heroics at play, too.  We knew from the start you would bring her back safely."

"So that's why the Elders accepted me so easily?  Because you already knew what I would do."

"Hm, not quite, although that did play part in it.  Let's just say, your rescue of Minme played more towards the favor of the other residents than it did towards us."

Again, he was avoiding giving Altier a straight answer.  Well, Altier had never expected to get far on that topic, anyways.  The truth was that even after all these years he still had only a vague idea of why the Elders had been so calm about him remaining in the village.  Since they hadn't told him, he guessed it would be a secret they would take to the grave.  At the very least, it was something he would never know.

Well, things like that had stopped bothering him years ago.  Although he was frustrated with things being kept from him, he accepted it and knew there was a reason for it.  He only got mad because Elder Emerian would treat it as some sort of game.  Even though Elder Emerian would pass much more information to Altier than the others would, he wouldn't give it easily.

Thinking about it on that level, Altier started to understand a bit more why Elder Emerian had decided to drag him along on this wild excursion.  It was clear from the start that it wasn't for anything like back-up.  The beautiful Elder was more than powerful enough to protect himself.  Altier could try to pin it on just wanting company, but he had trouble imagining the enigmatic man feeling something like loneliness.

There was only one other option left.  If Elder Emerian hadn't brought Altier for himself, than he must have done so for the Fenrir they picked up.  Fenrirs were extremely dangerous, and they hunted clans like Isis for food.  Although the cliff and guards stationed at the gates kept them safe from most attacks, there were always incidents where their people had lost their lives to those monsters.

Still, if Altier were to think about it, it wasn't like Fenrirs were particularly "evil" or anything.  They struggled to survive, just like every other race in their world.  The Fenrirs didn't just attack their people; they went after the other clans, too, as a source of food.  They even hunted animals, although the nourishment wasn't always enough.

But, regardless of the reason, Fenrir were still their enemies.  He doubted there was anything anyone could do to change that.

That brought him back to his original train of thought though.  If Elder Emerian brought him here specifically to meet this Fenrir, than there must be something involved.  He felt he already knew the answer, but he still had to ask.

"This Fenrir...he's somehow involved in my task, isn't he?" his voice was quiet as he spoke.

Elder Emerian glanced back, giving the younger man a sweet smile, "You have surmised correctly.  However, his role in your adventure is uncertain.  The divination just told us to bring him back, as we are doing."

Altier knew Elder Emerian was holding something back, but he also knew that he would not get any more information out of the man.  At least his suspicions were confirmed.  Somehow, this wolf-man would be involved in the task he was about to undertake.  Hadn't the Elder given him the role of "bodyguard" earlier?  Then, just maybe, the Fenrir would be-

No, he couldn't allow himself to finish the thought.   There was something far too frightening about that line of thinking.  Even though the chances of it being true were high, he rather think it was something much simpler.  He hoped to wash his hands of this crazed beast before he left the town for good.  He still had a few days before the Elders would chase him out, he wanted to enjoy a little more of his peaceful life within the walls.

He shook his head; no, it wouldn't be leaving for good.  At least, they told him he could come back.  Still, he wondered, would he want to?  He had always lived within the confines of their isolated village since he could remember.  It had been a long decade spent here, but he had been happy.  There was a part of him that was a true adventurer though, and even the excursions he assisted on with Gingak far from satiated that appetite.

He always knew though that he didn't belong here.  He was different from the people here.  He would always be an outsider to them, no matter how many years had passed.  Even though most of them had grown to accept him, this place was not his home.  It could never be his home.

One day, he knew he would leave.  He never had given it much thought as to why, but a quest seemed like as good of a reason as any.  Even if he survived the quest unharmed, he wasn't sure he would be able to make the trip back to the little coastal town.  He wasn't sure if he would even want to.

He had friends here, and he loved Minme and Gingak as his own family, but he also knew this was not a place he could remain.  Their lives were not made any easier by him staying with them.  Though outwardly the transition had been smooth, he knew there were many bumps along the path.

He was grateful for all they had done, and that was why it would be such a hard decision, when the time would come for it.  But, it would come, sooner or later.  He would have to decide just where it was he belonged.

Ahead of him, Elder Emerian took a quick peek back, trying to hide his amusement.  He knew exactly what Altier was thinking.  He was looking forward to seeing how this would all turn out.

The Archive of Sinners

A seven book, paranormal detective series. Told in first person. The following sample is from book one, "Lust."

“In their tiny Chicago-land office, Vere and his partner Thomas take any case big or small, and will do anything to see it solved. A woman hires them to find out the truth behind her boyfriend’s sudden illness, but when their case takes a turn towards the supernatural, they might not be enough.

When Thomas falls prey to their mysterious attacker, things only get worse. Armed with minimal knowledge and left to fend for himself, Vere’s in for the ride of his life. He might have found help, but his new partner is a creature of nightmares herself – a Succubus.”

Paperback- https://www.amazon.com/Lust-Archive-Sinners-Sanzaki-Kojika/dp/1523259884/

Ebook - https://www.amazon.com/Lust-Archive-Sinners-Book-1-ebook/dp/B01A82MLVK/

Lust

The  Archive  of  Sinners

Book 1

Sanzaki Kojika

Chapter 1

A  New  Case

We all have to start somewhere. It's not always something grand, special, or even exciting, but everyone has a beginning.  And, of course, the beginning is always the best place to start any story.

I go by the name Vere Cain.  I know, it's really weird- an almost girly sounding name even. It was the name given to me by my savior.  He says it's Latin for "truth" or something like that.  I don't really care, either way. It was given to me by the most irreplaceable person in my life.  Regardless of what other people think of it, it is a name that has a lot of power for me.  Even if I get annoyed at other people’s taunts about it, I wouldn’t give it up for the world.

Thomas Cain is a great man.  He runs a private investigation firm in Chicagoland.  He takes on any type of job.  The only thing in common with each of his clients is that he's helped them. That is what he cares about most of all.  It's why he even helped someone as broken as me.

I’ve worked for Thomas at Cain Investigations since he first gave me a home.  At first it was simple tasks like filing information and making coffee only, but the more experience I got, the more he would let me help out.  Sometimes, he would even hand the case off to me entirely.

Now, don’t think that’s something super great.  We take all sorts of cases, from the mundane to the damn near impossible.  The ones I get stuck with are the ones that tend to drive a person crazy.  Case in point, the case I was currently working on was for a Mrs. Johnson.  She hired us frequently.  Ugh, I really hated it.

It was a chilly spring morning as I briskly walked along the path encircling Lake Michigan.   The sun was just starting to peek over the horizon, and the world was still dark with shadows.  I had the hood of my sweatshirt pulled up over my head.  The top button of my denim jacket was undone to allow the hood through, but the rest of it was snapped up tight. I found myself scowling at the energetic joggers who passed by me.  It was too damn cold and early for this.

I crossed the street and made my way towards Michigan Avenue.  My captive pulled against me, but it was easy to keep the little guy under control.

Mrs. Johnson’s surly, little black puddle “Missy” struggled against the leash.  I gave it a yank, bringing the dog back into submission.  Her dog seriously got away at least once every two months.  The number of times I had to go track this thing down was ridiculous.  This was a perfect example of the type of jobs Thomas would leave to me.  I cursed at him silently under my breath.

Tracking down lost pets was a rather common occurrence for us.  At least with Missy, she was micro-chipped, so when she showed up at the pound, it was way easier to find her.  Usually though, I’d find her along the path Mrs. Johnson walked her every afternoon.  The dog would lead me on a wild goose chase along the path, weaving across it but never actually leaving the pavement.  It made the dog easy to find, but I did not enjoy having to play tag to catch it.

Missy made angry, little noises as I dragged her along.  I couldn’t blame the dog though.  I wanted to run every time I dealt with the woman. She was overbearing and obnoxious.  I swear that woman knew no shame.

For a dog her size, Missy put up quite a fight.  I wasn’t particularly strong, but I had a decent grip on the leash, and I knew how to handle the dog after what seemed like endless times of chasing her down.  I fought back halfheartedly, tugging back on the leash when I needed to and guiding the dog under my directions.  She was just as stubborn as her owner.

I felt my phone go off before I heard it.  It was buried in the front pocket on the sweatshirt beneath my jacket.  I could hear the muffled music playing beneath my layers of clothing. I knew right away it was Thomas.  His ringtone was set to the “X-files” theme song, some show from the nineties about alien investigators or something.  He had set it like that as a joke. I just never bothered to change it.

I mumbled a few curse words as I dug my phone out of my pocket with my free hand.  I had to pull my glove off with my teeth to answer it.  Missy used the chance to try pulling against me and I almost dropped the phone. I cursed at the dog and she barked up at me. Her bark was high-pitched and squeaky. I didn’t very much care for small dogs.

“What is it?” I angrily answered the phone.

“Someone got up on the right side of bed this morning, I see,” came the voice from the other end. Thomas had a smooth, deep voice. He sounded lively and energetic. I grumbled under my breath.

“More like someone never got to bed last night,” I decided to let go of my anger. I was still annoyed, but just hearing his voice always calmed me down.  Besides, if he was calling me, chances are, we had a new case.

“Ouch,” I could hear him wincing on the other side, “Missy giving you that many problems?”

“More like Missy’s owner is the problematic one,” I sighed. I had been on the phone most of the night with her as she cried and ranted about her poor missing baby.  Usually I left the search for lost animals to better light, but Mrs. Johnson would have none of that.  I finally got her off the phone around four in the morning, and I’d been out in the bitter Chicago spring morning since then.

“You find her yet?” he was shuffling through papers on his desk as he spoke.

“Yeah. Heading over to drop her off right now.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up in front of her place in thirty.”

“Okay.”

I could hear the jingling of his keys as he hung up.  Fortunately, this wouldn’t be one of those days where he spent half of the morning looking for those blasted things. I kept trying to get him to place it on the key holder just inside his office door, but he insisted on throwing them onto his desk.   It’s a wonder he could find anything sometimes.  Organization was not his strong point.

A small smile played across my lips as I shoved the phone back into my pocket. I slid my hand back into the glove before jamming my hand into the same pocket.  Even though I was cold and tired, Thomas always had this way about him.  It was impossible to stay mad around him.

I followed Millennium Park to the high-rise apartment Mrs. Johnson and Missy lived in.  I had never been further inside than the entrance way, and I intended to keep it that way.  I walked up to the building, its pale vestige rising up before me, lined to the teeth with windows.  At least, from the outside, it looked like just any other building in Chicago.

The lobby was like stepping into another world.  The Millennium Park Plaza housed only the finest and wealthiest cliental.  The tile floor was spotless. It was white with rectangles in various shades of browns and grays scattered upon it in some seemingly haphazard arrangement that somehow formed a perfect pattern.  The walls were a beautiful light brown wood.  Lights cascaded out from a chandelier in the center of the room, hanging over a sleek looking desk that filled the entire space.  I hated places like this. I stuck out like a sore thumb.

I picked up Missy as I entered and made sure to wipe my shoes on the rug just inside the glass door.  The doorman grunted at me.  There was a time he would have stopped me and basically interrogated me, but he was getting used to seeing my face.  I just hoped he would stay on so I wouldn’t have to go through that again.

Missy whimpered softly in my arms as the doorman called up to Mrs. Johnson.  The dog struggled weakly, but she was tired from her little adventure and running low on strength.  It was hard to hold her with her fidgeting, but I knew Mrs. Johnson was just going to scoop her up either way, so holding her just made it easier on everyone.  Plus, I could keep her from tracking any dirt onto the sparkling clean floors.  I had bad memories of getting the place dirty.

Mrs. Johnson appeared a few minutes later.  She was a plump, older woman, with bleached blonde hair so pale it almost looked white.  It was pulled tightly back on her head into a small, messy bun.  Even this early in the morning, she was already coated with several layers of heavy makeup.  Her lashes were thick, her cheeks perfectly pink, and her lips big and red.

She wore a black, V-neck dress that somehow managed to keep her breasts from exploding out.  A small, dark purple jacket with three-quarter sleeves covered her back and shoulders. It strained against every movement she made.  A thick silver belt was fastened around the waist of her dress, and several large silver necklaces adorned her neck.  She had way too many rings on her fingers, and too many bangles on her wrists.  Her tall, black heels clicked as she rushed across the tile floor, all but crushing her feet inside of them.  One of those people everyone wanted to remind to dress her own age, but no one ever would say anything.

“My baby!” she squealed in delight when she saw her beloved poodle cradled in my arms.  I let her snatch Missy away from me and took a step back.  I’d sacrifice the dog for my safety any day.

She cuddled her dog and mumbled to it in gibberish, rocking the dog back and forth. Yeah, I kinda felt sorry for that dog, too.  Mrs. Johnson was the type to constantly smother her pets.  I was glad she didn’t have any children.

“Ma’am,” I interrupted her after a moment.  She glanced up at me, but she was still preoccupied with her dog.

“Please send the check at your earliest convenience,” I nodded my head to her and quickly made towards the door.

“Thank you, darling!” she blew a kiss after me.

I hurried out of the building.  Once, she had actually hugged me when I brought back her little, dingy beast.  I wasn’t about to give her that chance again anytime soon.  Just remembering it made my skin crawl.

I made my way down Madison to the Starbucks and got myself something to warm me up.  I ordered a mocha for myself and a coffee, black, for Thomas, when he arrived.  I didn’t have to wait long for my order, and I shoved Thomas’ drink into a paper bag.  I balanced it carefully as I walked, sipping my own drink and trying to chase away the exhaustion and cold.

I crossed the street back to Millennium Park to wait for Thomas.  Aside from early morning joggers, there weren’t many people in the park yet.  The sidewalks beside it were filled with pedestrians rushing to work, but I found solace on a bench set several yards back from the throng.  I set the bag for Thomas next to me and took a seat.  I watched the people hurry about with little interest, savoring my mocha and waiting for my ride.

If nothing else, Thomas is punctual.  Just as he said, it was almost exactly thirty minutes after our call on the dot when I saw his car.  He drove an ugly, old Buick.  It was a dingy golden colored 1980 Riviera coupe, with a darker tan near the tiny back window.  It puttered down Michigan Avenue, scaring the other cars around it into submission.

I rose from my spot on the bench and forced my way into the barrage of people.  I made my way to Randolph, where I found his beast of a car wheezing in front of a parking meter.  I opened the passenger door, and it groaned awkwardly with the movement.  I slid inside and slammed it shut.

The car looked its age.  It had seen better days, and definitely better years.  Despite my constant badgering to Thomas to trash the thing, he kept it and somehow, it kept running.  It struggled in any kind of nasty weather, and its good days were few and far in between.  It was typically the type of car a retired, old man with no place to go would drive around.  It definitely wasn’t meant for the constant trips it had to take for our investigations.

The inside of his car was just as ugly as the outside.  It had a yellowish interior made of some plush fabric I couldn’t even fathom.  Faux wood panels covered the glove compartment, the radio, and the side panels. An ugly brown pleather was wrapped around the wheel.  Somehow, the car suited him, even though he was a clear contrast to its appearance.

I passed him over the bag with his coffee and fiddled with the wide seatbelt with one hand, still holding my mocha in the other.

“Thanks,” he grinned over at me.

Thomas was a reasonably good-looking man in his early forties.   He had light brown hair that was streaked with patches of dark brown and a few strands of gray, tied back into a tiny tail.  His skin was lightly tanned from years of spending too much time outdoors, and thin wrinkles adorned his face, especially near his mouth and eyes.  His gentle eyes were a handsome shade of nutmeg, and they peered out from beneath thinning brown and gray eyebrows.  It wasn’t unusual for him to be smiling.

This particular day, he was wearing a brown suede jacket over a dress shirt and black slacks.  The dress shirt had seen better days; it was now covered in small stains from coffee and ink spills, and one strange mishap Thomas had with an iron.  A red tie was hung loosely around his neck. He had clearly dressed in a hurry.  To add to his horrendous ensemble, he wore an aging Cubs baseball hat on his head.

I gave him a look, “You better not be planning on wearing that to meet with our new client.”

He chuckled at me, “Oh, so you did realize that we had work.”

I leaned back in the seat as he pulled out back into traffic.  I was glad I didn’t drive. I hated fighting Chicago traffic. I relied on public transit to get around, even if it made travel times a bit longer.

“You only pick me up when we do,” I retorted.

He frowned, “That doesn’t make me sound very nice.”

“Because you aren’t very nice,” I stuck my tongue out at him between sips.

“Gosh,” he shook his head, “and here I always thought I was a nice guy!”

I gave him a wry smile. He really was a decent guy.  I’m generally a grumpy person, and somehow, he’s dealt with me all these years.

As he turned onto the Eisenhower expressway, I straightened up in my seat, “So, what’s the job?”

Thomas was silent for a moment.  I could see the strain of all of his many years in that quick moment, but it was gone in the blink of an eye.  He never allowed himself to be tired, even when his body begged him to rest.  He pushed himself to the edge far too often.  I was constantly worrying about him.

“You read the paper lately?” he asked after a moment.

I nodded, “Yeah, I try to read it every day.  There’s been a lot of things going on.”

“So, you’ve seen the articles about men ending up in week long comas?”

“Yeah. It’s all over the news.”

I was always much more up-to-date on current events than Thomas was.  Part of it was that I tended to get left behind on jobs for research while he did the actual legwork, but another part of it was also that he just didn’t care enough. When he needed to know about something, he made sure he knew, but often times, he’d have me handle gathering information rather than looking it up himself.  It wasn’t even that he was lazy (although he had his moments), but rather with the way his mind worked, he had trouble focusing on any one task that made him sit still for too long.  He casually watched and listened to news on TV or radio though, so he wasn’t without his own knowledge.  He also had plenty of sources, plus he was the type to talk to anyone.

A car cut into our lane, nearly colliding with us. Thomas stepped on the brakes, and I had to fight to keep my mocha from flying.  A little bit of his coffee spilled out onto his hand and he cursed at it.

I opened up his dashboard and pulled free a couple napkins.  Over the years of driving with him, I’ve learned to keep up with his messes.  He’s not a bad driver, really, but he gets careless with whatever he’s holding while he drives. Better that than the car I suppose.

I took the Styrofoam cup from him and replaced it with a napkin.  I cleared the cup holder out, discarding the candy wrappers carelessly into the back. I’d have to clean out this car entirely again pretty soon.  I dropped the coffee gently into the cup holder before going back to my own mocha.

“Well,” he continued as if the conversation had never paused, “this lady says it happened to her husband.  She wants us to investigate for her.”

I narrowed my eyes, staring out into the angry mess of rush hour traffic.  We were barely moving.

“Isn’t that something the police should handle,” I glanced at him out of the corner of my eye.

He shrugged, “I think so, too, but she doesn’t think the police are doing anything about it.  I thought at the very least, we could meet with her and hear her out.”

I shook my head, “So, was she pretty?”

He slammed on the brakes as another car cut us off. He glared over at me, “I haven’t even met the woman yet!”

Thomas Cain may only have two weaknesses: people in trouble and a pretty face.  He’s gotten himself into plenty of trouble falling for a pretty girl’s words.  But, there was no way he could ever resist a damsel in distress.  That’s why I was here.  I could turn down anyone without second thought.  I wasn’t as nice as him.

Thomas pouted as he merged towards the right.  I could see our exit just up ahead.  I may not have driven, but I could navigate.  Fortunately, Thomas knew most of the streets well enough without me.  Although he was the type not to ask for directions if he got lost.

“I don’t just accept cases that have pretty girls!” he grumbled.

“No,” I agreed, “but it never seems to hurt.”

“You’re an insufferable brat,” he cried out.

We exited off of the expressway and onto slightly less crowded roads.  At one time, Cain Investigations had been in downtown Chicago.  The area it had been located in was sketchy at best, and between the crime and the exorbitant rent rates, it just wasn’t worth it in the end.  I had fought with him on it for years, and finally, just last year, he agreed to move us to a suburb.

Schaumburg was a decent place.  It was close enough to Chicago to not lose any of our regular clients, and there were buses that would take passengers straight to the heart of the city, for those of us who didn’t drive.  The town was crowded near the mall, but we hardly ever went into that area, settling instead for the quietness of the neighborhood we had nestled ourselves into.

To keep costs down, we lived in the same place we did business.  Thomas had found a reasonably priced house and converted the bottom level into our offices, while the top floor and the attic remained living quarters.  It wasn’t quite the same bustling feeling as our last location, but it served us well.  I personally enjoyed the calm.

It took us another fifteen minutes to reach the building we now called home.  It was a dark, brick building, with a narrowly sloping roof.  The lawn was neatly cut, with one small tree near the front sidewalk, and a handful of bushes circling the house. There was no sign stuck into the lawn, but on the front door was a golden plaque with the words “Cain Investigations” embossed into it.  The little gray mailbox that hung next to the door also suffered the same fate, although he had the letters cut out of vinyl rather than paying to have them embossed onto it.

There was no garage, nor a driveway, but Thomas had paid to have a small rectangle of the front lawn covered in cement so he could park his car off the street.  He loved that piece of crap vehicle deeply.  To each his own.

He pulled into his spot, and I was climbing out of the car before he had a chance to undo his seatbelt.  I snatched up my now empty cup and rushed towards the tiny sidewalk that lead to our cement porch.  Three steps lead up to the landing. On the other side of the door, opposite the mailbox, was some sort of fern Thomas thought would spruce up the place.  I had to fight him with getting a plastic one, but in the end, it had been a good call. He never watered any of the other plants he had tried to keep inside.

I pulled my key out of the back pocket on my jeans and shoved it into the lock.  I twisted it and when I heard the lock click, I pulled it out and pushed the door open.

When I wasn’t running around doing silly things like chasing down people’s pets, I got to be the one who cleaned up the place.  The door opened into a narrow hallway.  There was a rug just inside the door, and a small ficus off to the side.  It had seen better days, but somehow, the plant was still thriving (mostly because I actually remembered to water plants).

Just beyond the ficus, a wide doorway lead to the rest of the bottom floor.  A staircase stopped the hallway from moving any further past it.

I stepped into the room, pulling off my jacket and hanging it on the old bronze coat rack that was hiding just inside. I moved further in, until I found the small trashcan that was set beside a large mahogany desk.  I dumped my cup in and moved back out towards the hallway.

Thomas stepped inside and closed the door quickly, shivering against the chill.  He moved towards his office, throwing his coat towards the rack.  It landed haphazardly, but it somehow managed to stay on, so I decided to leave it for now.

“Go get a shower and change,” I ordered him.

He glared at me, but after a quick glance down at himself, he obeyed. He stomped up the stairs towards the living quarters.

I went back into the office and crossed the floor.  The floor was all wood, with a dark green rug set near the center.  Thomas’ desk was near the front window, and although there were two chairs set in front of it, he hardly did business with clients directly there.  The desktop was cluttered with papers and file folders.  On one end of the desk was his laptop computer, still open from his work last night, and on the other was a small shelf for him to keep his paperwork organized.

I sighed. I knew he wasn’t going to stay organized, even if I made it easy for him.  I shuffled through the papers quickly, separating them into nice, neat piles.  A few of those piles found their way onto the shelf, but most of them remained on his desk.  If I moved them too much, he’d whine about not being able to find anything.

I moved from his desk towards the rug in the middle of the room.  On either side of it were two small bench-style couches.  A long coffee table ran down the center of it.  As expected, Thomas had slept on one of those couches last night.  I pulled his suit jacket off of it and hung it up.  I straightened out the pillows then went to work cleaning off the coffee table. I dumped the trash into his trash can and carried the dishes to the sink.

Just off of the back of the room were two small rooms.  One of them was a bathroom, while the other one was a small kitchen area.   I gently set the dishes next to the sink. I snatched up the dishwashing liquid from the back of the sink, and a sponge that was next to the faucet.  I did a quick rinse off and scrub down of the dishes before setting them on the drying wrack on the counter next to the sink.

The kitchen in this house was tiny; it was hard to fit more than one person in at a time.  One wall was lined by a counter with a dark green top.  Cabinets were offset above the counter by a couple feet, reaching up to the low ceiling.  There was a gap in the cabinets over the sink, where there were two recessed lights above it, and a small, square window in front of it.  Light green curtains were tied back from the window to let natural light in.  The cabinets and the counter were both a dark brown.  The walls of the room were a light tan.

The other walls in the room were mostly bare.  A few small artsy paintings of food hung opposite the cabinet, and even one on the back wall. The paintings had been a present from a client, so Thomas thought we should put them to good use.  A small table was pushed towards the back of the room.  A light green runner was set across it.  Just beside it was a door with a window, covered by another curtain.

I knelt down and opened the cabinet beneath the sink.  I pulled free another trash bag and went back into the main room to swap the bag.  I tied the current bag up and pulled it free from the can.  I carefully set the new one in before taking the trash bag back to the kitchen.  I went through the door to the back where our trash cans sat.  I dumped it into one of the cans before returning inside.

When I came back into the office, Thomas was seating himself at his desk.  He flopped down into his seat, and it creaked beneath his weight.  He leaned back, sighing.

“I’m so tired,” he mumbled.

“Just put a good face on when the client gets here,” I chided him.  He stuck his tongue out at me as I passed him.  I stopped in the doorway and returned the gesture.

I figured I still had enough time to get a shower and change myself, so I headed up the stairs.  Similar to the first level, the stairs lead to another narrow hallway.  There were three doors off to the left, and two windows to the right.  At the end of the almost pastel green hallway was another door that lead to the attic.  The attic was just used as storage space for the time being, but it was large enough to make into another bedroom if needed.

The first door was Thomas’ room; the second was mine.  The third was currently filled with overflow of files from the shelves in the office downstairs.  There was a bed in there somewhere, but it had long since been lost to the mess of boxes and paper.  We both avoided entering that room if we could help it.  I was slowly working on getting Thomas to make all of his files digital, but it was a slow and tedious process.

My room was definitely the most organized in the house.  The dull blue walls were bare of any photos or art.  Tall, black bookcases lined the small window in the room.  My bed was next to the bookcase on the left side, nestled into a corner.  It was perfectly made, not even a wrinkle in the dark blue blankets.   There was a small worn chest at the foot of the bed, with an aging quilt draped over it. Another present from a client.  That one was given to me especially.  I didn’t want to ruin it, but I wanted to display it, so that seemed like the best option.

To the right of the bookshelf on the other side of the window was a small desk.  There was a laptop on it, closed and powered off.  There were a few binders lined up on a small shelf at the back of it.  The laptop’s case leaned up against one of the sides of the desk in the inside.  Otherwise it was bare.

There was a dresser against the wall, giving me just enough room to get into my desk.  There was a small coat rack next to it, which currently hung a black suit jacket, a brown suede jacket (a present from Thomas himself), and another sweatshirt jacket.

I opened one of the drawers and pulled out a nice pair of dark slacks and a white button-up shirt.  I crossed the room to a door set several feet away from my bed.  The bathroom on this floor was squished between Thomas’ and my room.  I had been worried about sharing it initially, but with how rare it was for both of us to be home and need it at the same time, it had worked out just fine.

I stepped in through the door on my side and deposited my fresh clothing onto the counter.  I stripped out of my dirty jeans and sweatshirt, shoving them into a small portable hamper I had finally convinced Thomas to buy.  I stripped out of the rest of my clothes and turned on the water.  The warm water felt heavenly after the bitter cold of the morning.

I took a quick shower and redressed.  I combed my hair back and glanced at my reflection in the steam-coated mirror.

I’m one of those people who has an eternal baby face.  I have round cheeks and wide, bright blue gray eyes, even when I’m glaring at someone.  My damp dark blonde hair almost looked brown with its wetness.  It clung to my cheeks and forehead, despite my attempts to brush it back.  When it dried, it would go back to its natural state, gently curling around my face.  It didn’t help my baby face at all.

I wasn’t short, but I wasn’t tall either.  I was about five foot seven, just tall enough to be average height.  Thomas was a few inches taller, but I felt like he towered over me.  Where Thomas’ body had thin, toned muscles, I was just thin all over.  Any muscles I had didn’t show, making me look even more like a young child rather than a young adult.   I admit, sometimes it was a bit of a complex on my part- comparing myself to Thomas- but I also knew we were different people.  He had at least a couple decades on me, plus plenty more experience to back it up with.  I had only been in this investigation business for a few years; I’m not sure if he ever wasn’t involved with it.

I heard the doorbell echo through the house. I dropped the comb on the counter and hurried downstairs.  Thomas was already at the door letting the client in.

Chapter 2

The  Client

As expected, our client was completely Thomas’ type.  She was tall, with long legs, and his perfect type of curves.  I guessed her to be about a C-cup, but I could never really understand women bra sizes well.  Thomas could have told you in a heartbeat.  Honestly, I never paid attention to things like that.  Unlike him.

Her blonde hair was pulled back into a short ponytail, with long bangs framing her face.  She had vibrant hazel eyes that were wide with worry.  She was dressed in business casual: a black pencil skirt and a tight white blouse.  She clutched her blazer and her purse tightly to her chest as she entered.  Her black heels only helped further exaggerate the length of her legs.

I could just picture Thomas internally drooling.  I just hoped he could keep himself in control long enough to question her.

“Please come in,” he greeted her politely, keeping his hormones in check. “I’m Thomas Cain, the owner of Cain Investigations.”

He offered her his hand.  She hesitated for a moment before taking it.

“I’m Jules Stapleton.  Thank you for agreeing to meet with me,” she nodded her head curtly.

I watched this exchange from the stairs.  I made my way down after her introduction, stopping just behind Thomas.

“Should I put on a pot of coffee?” I asked, already knowing what the answer would be.

“That would be great, thanks,” Thomas grinned back at me.  Stapleton nodded her head to me.

I left them in the doorway as I moved back to the office.  I went back into the kitchen.  The coffee maker was still plugged in on and on the counter (obviously Thomas’ fault), but I wiped it down and started it up.  I got the coffee filter out of a cabinet just above it and filled it.

As it brewed, I went into another cabinet and pulled out two ceramic mugs.  I got a tray out, along with creamer and milk from a small ice box that was hidden in one of the cabinets under the counter.  I added some sugar packets to the tray, along with a couple spoons.

I waited impatiently for the coffee to finish brewing.  When it was done, I filled the two mugs and set them on the tray.  I left the coffee maker plugged in- just in case we would need more- and headed out back into the office.

Thomas and Stapleton were seated around the coffee table in the center.  I set the tray down on the table between them, and Thomas grunted his thanks.  Before I joined them, I moved over to my desk, set off to the side of the room by the endless rows of shelves and filing cabinets.  I grabbed a notepad off of my desk and then sat down beside Thomas.

“Mrs. Stapleton here was just telling me about what happened to her husband,” Thomas explained to me.

“Miss,” Stapleton corrected him, “We aren’t married.  Our relationship was already having trouble, and then this happened.”

“Her boyfriend,” Thomas chose his words wisely, “is one of the men that is now in a coma.”

I frowned a bit, making a mental note of the change in relationship status.  Just earlier this morning, Thomas had told me it was her husband.  Either he had gotten the information wrong (which was actually quite unlikely), or she hadn’t been all that clear.  Regardless, it might be useful to the case down the line, so I jotted it into my notes.

“Yes,” Stapleton quickly nodded her head in agreement, “one night, he came back really late from work.  He was completely exhausted, and he muttered something about a demon before he collapsed.  He’s been in the hospital ever since.”

That caught my attention. I blinked at her, “Wait, he came home before he collapsed?”

“Yes,” her voice was quiet.

I glanced over at Thomas. He nodded to me.

“Yeah,” he agreed aloud, “that’s definitely different than the others.  All of the other victims were found passed out on the street. He must have had at least enough energy to get home.”

“A demon, huh,” I leaned back, pondering what it could mean.  I mean, I know what a demon meant in the literal sense, and while I had learned the hard way there were things that were beyond human comprehension, I wasn’t quick to jump on the assumption that it was something like that.  Usually, even the most bizarre cases ended up having completely normal humans behind them. Well, despite the fact that they were mentally unstable. But that’s not important here.

We had gotten our share of “strange” cases.  They were the ones that seemed damn near impossible to solve.  At times, there almost seemed to be something supernatural about them, but we never could prove anything either way.  They seemed to come to a close on their own, and questioning it never did any good, so we just let it be.  Fortunately, cases like those weren’t something we dealt with frequently, and thus far, everything had worked out smoothly.

After a moment, I inquired, “Can you go over in detail all of the symptoms he had prior to falling into the coma?”

Stapleton shifted awkwardly in her seat, fidgeting with the coffee mug.  She slowly nodded her head, “All I remember is that he was walking like a zombie.  He could barely put one foot in front of the other.  He collapsed almost immediately.”

“Aside from muttering about demons, nothing else was odd?”

“No, nothing besides what I’ve said.”

I scribbled down the little information she gave me, but it wasn’t going to be enough to narrow down my research.  There’s all kinds of reasons for people to fall into comas, some purely medical, some drug related, and yes, there are even otherworldly possibilities (but I tended to avoid that route like a plague).  The biggest thing that was bothering me was the fact that they had all woken up in the end.  Even if it took a couple weeks.

I tapped my pen against my notepad as I stared down at it.  This was going to get us nowhere.  If we could talk to a victim, maybe we could get something the police missed, but we’ve learned the hard way not to interfere directly with the investigation.  And, of course, all the articles said the victims didn’t remember anything unusual.

Thomas broke through my thoughts, “Is there any way we could see your boyfriend?”

“Yes,” Stapleton hurriedly answered.  She pulled a card out of her purse and passed it across the table to Thomas. “That’s the information on where he’s been admitted.  I already informed the hospital that you might be visiting.”

She dug through her purse before producing another card, “This is where he works.  I don’t know where he usually goes out to drink afterwards, but I think it’s not too far from there.  Someone at his office might know, too.”

Thomas took the cards gratefully.  He glanced down at them and showed them to me.  I took a cursory glance at them, but I knew I could go over them in more detail later.  They weren’t going anywhere.  No need to scrutinize them while our client was still in the room.  Silence was one of the worst things for a nervous client.  In any case, it was a good time to excuse myself.

I cleared the empty mugs from the table and piled up everything back onto the tray.  I left Thomas to finish up with the client and moved into the kitchen.  She wasn’t going to be able to tell us anything more.  At least she had been kind enough to give us a couple possible leads.  That’s better than we get most of the time.

Most of our clients came to us at their wits end.  All they generally told us was basic information, and maybe, if it was a bigger case, information we could easily get out of the news.  It was a pain, but when people were panicked, they didn’t tend to think straight.  It was hard enough getting clear answers to basic questions from most of them.  Stapleton was definitely nervous, but she somehow remained collected enough to be somewhat useful.  Her type of client was a rarity.  I silently thanked her for it.

I took my time putting things away in the kitchen and cleaning the mugs.  I wasn’t good at dealing with people, even when they were at their best.  The woman was trembling with every word and about to break out into tears.  There was no way I could handle her delicately.  That’s why I always left things like that to Thomas.  I stayed out of his way and gave him enough time to set things right.  He would always be the “people person” out of the two of us.

Thomas had once told me that I was too hard with my words. He was certainly right, but my approach had advantages in other situations.  There were times when being gentle was a bad choice.  I was perfectly happy to handle those instances.  It was just one of the many ways the two of us complimented each other well.

About ten minutes later, Thomas peeked his head into the kitchen.  He was grinning, “Those must be some tough to get out stains.”

I held up the clean mug half-heartedly and rolled my eyes, “I wash, and I wash, but I can’t seem to get the blood out.”

“Okay, Shakespeare,” Thomas shook his head as he squeezed in behind me.  I set the mug done on the drying rack and turned to face him.

“So? What’s the plan?” I asked.

“I figure we hit the hospital first, then the work place. You gonna come?” even though he asked, he already knew my answer.

“Let’s get going then.”

It didn’t take us long to lock up and pile back into the ugly Riviera.  It whined when Thomas tried to start it, but it finally came to life with his second turn of the key.  He whistled excitedly and pulled out onto the road.  He really needed to get a new car.

We made our way back towards the city, taking back the same routes we had just earlier the morning.  The sun was now in the sky, and it brought its warmth with it.  Both of our jackets lay discarded on the back seat, and our windows were cracked open a couple inches.  Traffic had lightened up, making our commute back into the city a bit more bearable.

About forty minutes later, we were parking the car outside of Mercy Hospital, on Michigan Avenue.  Like all hospitals in big cities, it was a beast of a thing.  Rather than a hospital though, the building looked a high-scale office building to me.  Layers and layers of windows separated by white beams rose at least ten stories into the air.  The front of the building was more standard, still framed by many windows, but made up of sections of solid cement walls in a tan color.  An overhang ran just in front of the entrance.  It almost looked as if they had sat another building on top of the lobby, making the hospital jut out awkwardly right at the entrance.

Maybe rather than an office building, it resembled an airport?  I squinted at it. Either way, I knew it was a hospital. I hated hospitals.  There was a certain aura in the air.  I couldn’t explain it, but I never liked it.  I didn’t care to press into it any further, either.  There might actually be an answer lurking there.

I followed Thomas in through the main entrance and let him handle getting us visitor passes.  The lobby wasn’t as stifling as some hospitals, but I still didn’t like it.  There were a few people sitting in what passed for comfortable chairs.  A large television was playing in the corner, its volume so low it was impossible to hear what was being said unless you were right in front of it.  Small end tables were set about between the chairs, covered in magazines and newspapers.   It was pretty much the same set-up in hospitals everywhere.  It made me nervous just looking at it.

“Vere!” Thomas called me over.  I turned away from the room and rushed up to him at the front desk.  I side-stepped by an elder woman with a walker and politely excused myself.  She just ignored me and continued scooting on.  She might not have even heard me.

Thomas handed me a sticker labeled “visitor” and I slapped it onto my shirt.  I followed him to the elevator and he pushed the button to call it down.  While we waited, he reached over and ruffled my hair. I whacked at him.

“What are you doing?” I hissed at him.

“Try and relax, okay?” he winked at me.  He knew how much I hated hospitals.

I sighed.  It’s not like it was something I could really control though.  I didn’t think I could even fully explain it.  I knew it had something to do with the energy of the place, but it wasn’t like things like that were easily looked up on the internet or even in a library, at least if you wanted accurate information.  And, while it bothered me, I was almost afraid to learn the truth. Sometimes, reality could be far more terrifying than you’d expect.  I really wanted to blame it on some deep-seated childhood trauma, but unfortunately, that was not an escape I could use.  My time in hospitals as a child was limited.

We stepped into the elevator and Thomas choose our next stop.  We stopped at a couple floors before we reached ours, and I had to move back closer to him to let nurses and other visitors on.  I was glad when he finally moved to get off. I gratefully followed him out into the pristine hospital hallway.

Not only was I not fond of hospitals, I wasn’t particularly keen on elevators either.  We had our fair share of run-ins with them in the past.  At least, in places as heavily trafficked as a hospital, they were kept in better repair than most.  In some cases, elevators meant life or death for patients needing to be transported to different floors, or medical supplies reaching them in time.  It was a lot easier to handle knowing that.  Sadly, a lot of our cases had us trekking through buildings that needed repairs. The elevators weren’t usually so nice.

I followed Thomas in silence as he checked the signs on the walls to lead us to the right hall.  We took a couple turns, and he started to check room numbers.  I knew we must be getting close.  He stopped just outside of a room, and I could read “Hyles, Michael” on the small plaque outside the door.

He knocked politely on the door.  When there was no response, he shrugged and opened the door slowly.  He peered in before opening the door all the way.  The two of us walked inside and closed the door behind us.

Hyles looked as if he was just asleep.  His breathing was deep and even, and if he had suffered any trauma to bring him to this state, there was no sign of it.  There were no bruises, no cuts, not anything.  There wasn’t a mark on him.  He literally looked like a perfectly healthy man sleeping.  It just made the whole ordeal even stranger.

I walked to the side of the bed while Thomas checked his medical charts and jotted down a few notes.  I examined the man closely.  I gently touched his arm, and I felt the crackle of energy around him.  It was almost like being shocked by static build-up, but I knew better than that.  The best way I could describe it was to say it was a person’s aura.

Everyone has their own aura.  Everyone feels it, too, but since it’s so commonplace, most people never register it.  When they do, it’s in cases when they think they are alone but feel someone else near them.  I read that déjà vu was somehow formed from residual energy, too, but the article wasn’t clear as to how.  I was kind of sensitive to these “auras” for some reason.  So I made myself grow aware of these energies, although I still had no real idea of how to differentiate them.  One person’s energy could vary day by day, even hour by hour.  Emotions tended to cause fluctuations within them.  For someone I didn’t know at all, I had no way of figuring out what his standard feeling was.

The one thing I did know is that I didn’t like the feel of this aura.  I might have been feeling his fear, or even the anger from his attacker.  In any case, it wasn’t a friendly energy.  I pulled my hand back quickly.

I shook my head and glanced over at Thomas, “There’s nothing on him that I see. No visible marks, nothing that seems out of place.”

Thomas dropped the chart back to the end of the bed and shook his head, “Yeah, same here.  No signs of toxins or drugs in his system.  His body shows signs of exhaustion and fatigue, but other than that, no trauma, no damage.  Not a mark on him.”

He scratched his head, “And you didn’t feel anything?”

It had been hard to admit to Thomas that I could “feel” auras.  It seemed so strange to me, I didn’t want anyone else to know.  I assumed everyone would think I was crazy.  At first, I tried to ignore it, but over the years, it only grew stronger.  It also got harder to hide from him.  About a year ago, he finally asked me about it.  Well, more like he asked why I didn’t like making physical contact with anyone, especially our victims.  He had seen me jolt away from plenty of clients.  I had planned on lying, but for some reason instead, I had told him the truth.  Even more surprisingly, Thomas hadn’t laughed.  He had frowned for a moment and just nodded.  Ever since then, he had relied on me to “feel” people during our cases.  It was helpful for telling if someone was lying or hiding something at the very least.

I shook my head again, “Nothing that seems relevant, anyways.  If anything was there, it probably already faded.  It’s been a couple days since the initial attack.”

We met by the door of the hospital room.  We both frowned at each other.  We both were a bit disheartened by the lack of evidence.  It was to be expected, but we still were always hopeful that somehow someone had overlooked something vital.  It was never our luck though.

“Is there some way to make someone just fall asleep for that long?” Thomas cocked an eyebrow.  It sounded even foolish to him, I could tell by the look on his face.

“No clue,” I replied, “but this isn’t some fairy tale.  There’s no wicked witches casting sleeping curses on princesses.  Well, I guess princes in this case.”

“So we’re back to square one,” Thomas sighed.

As we were about to leave the room, the door opened and a nurse walked in.  She smiled sheepishly when she saw us, “Oh, sorry, I didn’t know he had any visitors.  Are you friends?”

She was pretty, but not so much that Thomas would drool over her.  She wore no makeup, and there were dark circles under her eyes from the arduous hours of her profession.  Her dark brown eyes looked infinitely dark against them.  Her light brown hair was pulled back into a low bun at the nape of her neck.  Stray strands floated around her face, but her bangs were clipped back with barrettes to keep them out of her eyes.  Her scrubs were strangely clean and unwrinkled, but I just assumed she must have only gotten to work, at least for this shift.  Nurse was not a profession I would wish on anyone.

“Yeah,” Thomas grinned at her, “We knew him through his girlfriend Jules.”

“That poor girl,” the nurse spoke as she moved across the room and to the other side of his bed.  She checked on his vitals and some of the other readings on equipment near him.  She shook her head as she jotted down numbers onto her clipboard.  She seemed a little nervous.

“She comes here to see him several times a day,” the nurse continued after a second.  “I wish there was something we could tell her, but the doctors are just as lost.”

“Have you seen any of the other cases like his?” Thomas asked her.

“No,” the nurse shook her head, “but we did have a couple of the other ones here.  From the nurses assigned to them, I heard that then they woke up, it was like they had just been sleeping for a long time.  It was really weird.”

“They just woke up on their own?”

“Yup. We’re expecting Mr. Hyles here to do the same.  It probably won’t be for another several days though.”

“What’s the average length that they’re out?”

“I guess it’s around a week or two.  It seems to be progressively getting longer.”

The nurse fiddled with one of the stray strands of hair while clutching the clip board to her chest with her other hand.  Thomas gave her a dazzling smile and she gave him a shy one back.  I admit, I was a bit taken back.  The nurse didn’t seem like Thomas’ usual type.  I supposed making a connection with her might work in our favor later though.  If Thomas wanted to hit on her, I wasn’t about to stop him (not that I could, anyways).

While Thomas flirted with the nurse, I stepped out of the room and made my way to a waiting area that allowed the use of cell phones.  I followed the conveniently placed signs on the wall to lead me to my destination.  It wasn’t much further down the hall, so it was a quick and easy walk.  I turned my phone on as soon as I got to it and pulled up an internet browser, searching for as many of the articles on the different victims as I could find.  There were tons of newspapers in the Chicagoland area, even some that were from Indiana.  My search was filled with results.

I made a face at the endless stream of text.  There was a lot to go through.  It was to be expected though.  Despite what people said about Chicago and the surrounding area, we didn’t have a lot of big crimes happening.  Sure, we had crime. What place didn’t?  But they were generally things like small robberies with the occasional gang shooting thrown in here or there.  So when something big like this happened, it was all over.  Especially when it was something so strange.

I sighed and braced myself.  I clicked the link and dove into the first article.  It didn’t take me long to skim through it, since there was specific information I was looking for.  When I was done with that one, I went onto the next one.  I tried not to spend more than half a minute on each article.

The articles all said the same thing.  The victims were found in various places in Chicago, usually not too far from a bar, already unconscious.  Some of the men had left the bar with friends, some with women, and even some alone.  No one saw the men within an hour or so of their reappearance.  No one could account for what the victims had been doing during that time.

There wasn’t even security footage of them.  Some of the streets they had been found on had cameras nearby.  The victim was always placed just out of sight, and no one suspicious walked past during that hour.  In fact, in many cases, during the time of night at which they were assumed to be attacked, there was no one else even on the streets.

I scanned through the pictures, swiping through them quickly.  None of the men physically had anything in common.  They were all different hair colors, different body types, and even different skin colors.  I could tell by the pictures that some of the men were even married, so that even eliminated single men as a target.  Could someone be targeting just men specifically? That seemed like too broad of a range though.  Still, it wasn’t completely impossible for the perpetrator to be attacking a specific gender at random.  I was probably missing the deeper connection though.

At least, the men all appeared around the same age range.  The youngest was in his mid-twenties, and the oldest was late thirties.  They were all seen at a bar the night of they fell victim.  There was at least an hour gap with no witnesses before they were found.  That was where any semblance from one case to another ended.

Though there were some similarities, I still didn’t know enough about their conditions to really make even an educated guess about what caused their symptoms.  There were plenty of drugs that wouldn’t show up on the usual drug tests that hospitals would run.  I’m sure they were doing more detailed testing after the initial negative result, but there were so many options, it would take them a long time to narrow it down. Especially with the speed of some of the overworked labs.  There was even a chance it was something that would dissolve so quickly there would never be any trace of it.  I didn’t really understand the science end of investigation though, so I left that to the pros.  It wasn’t like I could do any better.

I sighed and turned off my phone.  We needed more information.  I could see why the police were getting nowhere with this investigation.  There was no evidence, no witnesses.  All they were getting were victims.

Maybe we just needed a different approach to this case.  I wasn’t sure just what that was, but I knew we had our work cut out for us.  We were already following along on the police’s trail.  It was only a matter of time before it ran cold and we were left just as in the dark as they were.   I hated running into dead ends in cases.  Especially when we had barely started.

“Dammit,” I grumbled under my breath.

I shoved my phone into the back pocket of my pants and moved back down the hall.  Thomas had spent enough time flirting already.  If he wasn't done, I'd make him finish.  We had plenty of work to do.  He could flirt all he wanted after this case was over.

Luckily for me, he was already moving.  He came out of the door as I got near it.  He grinned and waved at me, pocketing a piece of paper.  I assumed it was the number of the nurse.  Leave it to Thomas to pick up a date even in situations like this.  I rolled my eyes as I approached him.

"You finally ready?" I narrowed my eyes at him.

"Yup," he wrapped an arm around my shoulder as we moved back through the halls and towards the elevator, "let's go."

The elevator arrived almost immediately and we had a straight ride down to the ground floor.  I let Thomas talk with the receptionist on our way out.  I noticed the old woman still in the lobby, but she was now sitting down, grumbling to a poor soul who had decided to sit next to her.  She looked like she was about to cry.

We left the hospital and got back into the ugly Riviera and started towards our next destination.  I just hope we had better luck there.

Chapter 3

Michael Hyles

The office Hyles worked at was nothing particularly exciting.  It was located in West Town, a part of Chicago that is known for its deeply involved Polish background.  It's a melting part of nationalities now, broken down into several distinct neighborhoods.

The small financial company he worked for was situated near the Wicker Park neighborhood section.  The building itself housed several different offices, each of them curtailing to small businesses.  Finding parking proved to be a bit of a challenge, but when we finally found a place to safely and legally leave the car, we were able to head to the office.

The financial office was on the second floor.  The receptionist in the lobby didn't pay us any heed as we marched past her and to the elevator.  A quick double check of a squat, rectangle directory posted on the wall next to the elevators confirmed what Stapleton had told us.

Thomas called the elevators and one of the four was there to meet us almost immediately.  We got in and the box lumbered upward and screeched to a halt when it reached the second floor.  It shook when it stopped.  I jumped out as soon as it opened.

"Aw, come on," Thomas teased, "It’s not that bad!"

"That thing is a deathtrap!" I growled at him.  Working with Thomas will make you paranoid about everything.  We had been trapped in more elevators on jobs than I cared to admit.  I did not need a reminder.

Thomas was fighting to hold in his laughter as we came up to the glass doors to Hyles’ workplace.  The name of the office and the address were printed in bold letters on the door in a shade of gold.  The doors were heavy, and I had to force my weight into it to push one of them open, bracing myself against the steel handles.  Sometimes, simple things like heavy doors made me feel like a weakling.  I wasn’t actually that weak though.  I guess doors were just my natural enemy.

The receptionist gave us a polite smile as we came inside.  She had a Bluetooth headset on and was typing away on her keyboard.  Her desk was perfectly organized, even with as busy as she seemed to be.  Based on her actions though, I guessed she was just wasting time rather than doing anything important.  Her eyes lazily darted over to the screen on occasion, but she was far more engrossed with the phone call than with whatever work she actually had to do.

She said a few more words into the headset before putting the person on hold.  She looked a bit annoyed, but she didn’t let it affect her behavior much.  She nodded towards us from behind her large, curved mahogany desk, “How may I help you?”

Thomas smiled back at her, pulling free a small leather wallet from his pant pocket.  He flipped it up and flashed his licensed private investigator badge at the woman, “I’m Thomas Cain, from Cain Investigations.  We were hired to look into the case of Michael Hyles.  We were told he works here.”

The woman seemed taken aback, “Mr. Hyles? Yes, well, I heard what happened.  He seemed like such a nice guy.”

Thomas moved up towards her desk and leaned against it, “The night of the attack, he went out drinking.  We are trying to see if anyone would know where.”

The receptionist quickly nodded her head and scribbled something down on a sheet of paper, “Yes, the police asked us as well.  I didn’t know him very well, but another coworker said he liked to frequent Chip Inn.  It’s a dive bar just down on Greenview Avenue, not too far from Fry Street.”

“Is there any way we can speak with that coworker directly?” Thomas asked, hopeful but not expecting much.

She shook her head, “No, sorry, he’s out of the office today.  I can leave a message for him to call you when he gets back in.”

“That’d be great,” he grinned over at her and pulled free a business card.  “Please do.”

She took the business card and quickly nodded her head again.  She clipped it to another sheet of paper as she jotted a quick note onto it.

Before we could ask anything more, she took the person off hold and went back to her phone call. It was painfully obvious we weren’t going to get anything else out of her.

Questioning people was always hard, especially since most of the time they had already undergone the same interrogation from the police.  No one liked answering the same questions twice.  I couldn’t really blame them.  Plus, after a few days had passed, most people were over the initial shock of whatever happened and just wanted to get back to their normal lives.

We left the office and headed back towards the elevator. I opted to take the nearby staircase while Thomas insisted on still riding the damned metal cage.  Despite the supposed speed of elevators, I was already waiting for him at the bottom when it arrived.

“It’s just a fluke,” he shrugged, trying to brush it off.  He never wanted to admit that stairs could be just as fast, if not faster, than an elevator.  For one thing, you didn’t have to wait for stairs to arrive on your floor.  Nor did you have to worry about having to stop because someone was getting off on a different floor than you were.

“It won’t kill you to take one flight of stairs,” I gave him a look.  Thomas was actually surprisingly fit, but he avoided stairs like the plague.

“You never know,” he winked at me, “it just might!”

With the weather being friendlier, we decided to leave the car where it was parked and walk the several blocks it would take us to get to Chipp Inn.  It wasn’t a bad walk, and both of us were used to walking the streets of Chicago for whatever cases we stumbled upon.  It was also nice to take in the fresh air and the warm sun.  Almost made it feel like we weren’t actually working, but rather enjoying a leisurely stroll.  Not that we ever did anything like that.  With any free time we had, we generally spent it bent over books and computers, locked inside our dreary home.

We stopped by a small restaurant along the way to grab a quick bite to eat.  It was a bit after noon, and from the business card we had, it said the bar didn't open until one.  We squished into the tiny bistro to order our sandwiches and drinks, but we decided to sit outdoors to avoid the rush of people and the heavy smell of food inside.

There were a few tables scattered in front of the restaurant, and despite it being lunch hour, the two of us were able to grab a small table near the side of the building.  The black, metal chairs screeched across the sidewalk as we scooted them out to take a seat.

“We have a lot of nothing so far,” I commented dryly between bites.

Thomas shook his head, “No, I think we’re off to a good start.”

I gave him a dumbfounded look.  Where did he get his optimism from?  I never could understand it.  But I was a cynical thinker by nature.  Thomas was my opposite.

“Think about it,” he tapped his head as he swallowed a large bite of his sandwich. “We’ve already caught up with the police’s investigation.”

“Yes,” I rolled my eyes at him, “and we’re almost up to where they were stopped.  The articles said they had talked to some of the bars the men attended the night they were attacked.  There was no direct connection between them. Even the area they were in was rather widespread.  Chicago is pretty big after all.”

“Yeah, these men are found all over the city,” Thomas agreed.  He almost gagged as he took another bite, one too big for himself.  He scrambled for his drink, nearly knocking it over. I watched in mild amusement as he gulped some cola down, trying to un-lodge whatever was currently stuck in his throat.

“I tell you all the time to take smaller bites,” I chided him.  Sometimes, Thomas was like a child.  I found myself having to watch out him far more often than I should.  When push came to shove though, he was mature and reliable though, so while I nagged him about his childish side, I didn’t particularly care if he ever changed.

He coughed and set his drink down, “You don’t need to keep reminding me! I’m not a baby!”

“Then why am I always babysitting you?” I smirked.

Before he could make a retort, I continued, “Anyways, we still don’t know what exactly is happening to the men.   They are spending weeks in a coma for no noticeable reason.  Doctors have already ruled out plenty of drugs and medical reasons.”

“Well, what about something more out of this world?” he wiggled his eyebrows at me.  I knew what he was hinting at.  His dream case.

I gave him a look, “You know it’s crazy to think like that, right? Besides, it’s not like we have huge resources available if it does end up being something more like that.  We aren’t prepared to take on something big.  I can’t even guarantee I’d be able to sense it until it was too late.”

“Yeah,” he leaned back, staring down at his half empty cup, “but you’re all we got.”

A thin frown crossed my lips.  I hated it when he put it like that, but I knew he was right. I was the closest thing he was going to get to an expert on the supernatural.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am far from an expert.  After my first experience with a ghost years ago, I simply because aware of the presence of things not from this world.  Since then, I had done my best to gather any information I could on them.  Better safe than sorry was my motto.  Even if it was for something so outlandish.

There was a lot of information available, but it was hard to weed out what was true and what was false.  A lot of the times, until a person actually experienced it, there was no way to say for sure if people experience things differently or the same.it would be how others claim it was.  We didn’t deal with supernatural a lot, fortunately, but we had our fair share of cases that could have involved something more from that side of the fence.  But like I said, involving things we hadn’t directly dealt with anything head on ourselves.  Seriously, the only time I couldn’t even fathom.  We had to handle something like that was back in my childhood.  One freaking time, and the whole world seems to change.  Weused a lot of nonsense to get through them.

If anything, Thomas was actually better at coming up with ideas to deal with situations like that than I was, however, I had a knack of research he couldn’t compete with.  Or maybe, it was just that he was too lazy to even try.  Thomas was a good man, but if something seemed too hard, he was quick to brush it off, while I was the type who just tried harder.

“I’ll look through my research when we get back,” I added after a moment. An uncomfortable silence had fallen over us.

He gave me a reassuring grin, “That’s all I ask.”

We cleaned up our wrappers and now empty Styrofoam drink cups and dumped them into a trash bin before heading back out onto the sidewalk.  We continued on down the street to the corner and turned onto Greenview.

Like so many streets in Chicago, Greenview Avenue was a one way.  All the one way streets sometimes made navigating Chicago streets a real headache.  Couple that with the heavy traffic with rush hour and it was an absolutely nightmare.  There was a reason I had no urge to learn to drive and face that monster of traffic.  I’d take longer times, but smoother rides with public transit any day.  Thomas was one of those strange people who actually enjoyed the battlefield on the streets.

Since we were on foot, travel was quite a bit easier.  There was a bus stop piling up with people not too far from where we turned, and the throng of people on the street were working their way towards it.  We stayed close together, giving plenty of room for passing on our left side.

The Chipp Inn was your standard looking bar from the outside.  The small brick building that housed it was squished onto the corner of the street.  The bricks right at the front entrance were slightly larger and a perfect brick red in color, while the rest of the building was built up with ordinary brown bricks. The windows were cluttered with the usual bar signs, advertising some of the various beers it served.  In a couple of the windows hung small, red oval signs with the name of the bar.  Chipp was in an italicized font, with Inn written in all caps beneath it.

The inside reflected the outside perfectly.  The dull green walls were covered in sports memorabilia and more advertisement for alcohol.  Fans and low hanging lights hung from a deep orange ceiling, patterned with an almost tile look.  There were splotches of gray visible where the paint had started to chip away and reveal the plaster beneath it.

A wooden bar surrounded by tall chairs was the focal point of the room.  Behind the bar were bottles of all types of alcohol and more signs, flyers, and pictures hung up.  On top of the back display were other ornaments, like sturdy plates bearing the logos of famous brands of even more booze.   Off to the right of the bar, an average sized television hung high up on the wall.

We made our way past the bright windows and the chairs and tables that lined them.  I glanced around and caught sight of a pool table hiding further in.  Flyers and newspaper clippings cluttered the walls, telling the history of the bar with each piece.  I imagined the Chipp Inn had remained the same through all of its years open.

It was still early, so there weren’t many people in the bar yet.  It looked like your standard blue-collar gathering place, so I could envision what the place would look like later at night. It was a rather strange place to think of Hyles visiting, especially considering his current place of employment, but there was probably a history he had with this place.  It may not have really mattered to the investigation, but it said a lot about his character.  Sometimes, the best way to learn about a person is to see the places they like to visit and the things they do outside of work.

The few people that had already arrived at the place were gathered around the bar.  There were only five of them, and they were paying close attention to the TV.  They muttered to each other as they watched, talking about whatever came to mind.  I’m not even sure they were really watching whatever was flashing on the screen.

The bartender gave us a hard look as we came into the bar.  Although Thomas didn’t quite look like an investigator, he gave off a confidence that was impossible to deny.  And, trailing behind him was me: his grumpy, baby-faced assistant.  I was usually the one who attracted unwanted attention in situations like this.

“You old enough to be in here?” the man glared over at me.

I left the talking to Thomas.  I was pretty sure all I could do was make things worse.  It was kind of like a talent of mine.

Thomas smiled up at the man, “Don’t worry, we won’t be here long.  Just have to ask a few questions.”

“You the cops? I already answered a ton of their questions,” the bartender grunted.  The look on his face told us to leave him the hell alone, but Thomas wasn’t deterred so easily.

“Nah,” Thomas pulled free his badge again. He showed it to the bartender.  The bartender stared it at hard for a few seconds before nodding his head.

“Oh, okay,” he moved down the bar, away from the TV.  I guess he didn’t mind, so long as we weren’t cops.  That could be strangely useful.  Thomas and I followed him on the other side.

“You hired to investigate these accidents?” the bartender asked when we got to the other end of the bar.  He set down the glass he had been preoccupied with pretending to clean.  I squinted at it, noticing each and every smudge his rag left on it.  The glass had probably been washed already, but it still looked kind of grimy.  I’m sure Thomas would tell me there was nothing wrong with it, and that it was all in my head.

“Not quite,” Thomas inclined his head, “but Michael Hyles’ girlfriend asked us to look into his case.”

“Not like the police are making any headway,” the bartender agreed.  “Michael was a regular around here, even after he got his big, fancy job.  Ask anything you’d like.  If I can help him in anyway, I’d be glad to.”

“What can you tell us about that night?” Thomas’ mood improved.  We usually don’t have people that cooperative.  It made things a lot easier when they were willing to give us a chance.  Most people treated cops and P.I. the same: like some terrifying monster about to devour them.  They might not have been that far off in some cases though.

“There really wasn’t anything unusual,” the bartender shrugged.  “He had a few drinks here, and when I thought he had enough, he left.”

“What about the people in the bar?”

“Mostly the usual bunch.  We always get a few stragglers though, but they never leave an impression.”

“That’s not true,” a woman sitting at the bar interrupted.  She swung her feet over to face us, twisting her stool with it.  She frowned, shifting to a more comfortable positionchair with it.  She frowned, shifting to a more comfortable position.  She was probably in her late thirties at least, it was hard to tell with the thick layers of makeup she was swathed in.  She wore a cream-colored blouse, with the sleeves rolled up and the top button undone.  She had dark fuchsia slacks on, and I could see a matching sports coat hanging off the back of her chair.  Even her thick brick of a purse matched her ensemble.  Her dark flat loafers helped break the pattern.

“What do you mean?” I glanced over at her.  She ignored me, instead batting her eyes at Thomas.  She twirled her highlighted hair as she spoke.

“There was this hell of a babe in here that night. I remember because she stuck out like a sore thumb. That red head,” she turned towards the bartender.

“Oh, her,” the bartender nodded his head, “but she left before Michael got here.”

“Still,” she pointed her finger at him, “she was odd.”

“Could you describe her for us?” Thomas leaned closer to her, flashing her his charming grin.  I swear, every woman fell for that. Hell, he had even gotten a few men with that same beaming smile during our years of investigating together.  He could be charming when he wanted to.

“I can do you one better,” she smiled back at him.  She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and clicked it to life.  She tapped the screen a few times before she found what she was looking for.  She held up the phone to Thomas.

I squeezed in by his shoulder, stretching myself up to see the photo.  The photo definitely was taken in this bar, but the place was far more crowded than it was currently.  I could see the red head in question seated on a stool near the pool table.

She had deep, curly red hair that looked almost unnaturally colored.  It hung around her face and onto her shoulders, curls even trailing down her back.  Her lips were a deep purple, and they were perfectly thick.  Her skin was a smooth alabaster, and even though it was just a photo, I could tell it was soft and supple.  There wasn’t a blemish on it.

She was wearing a form fitting black dress that hugged her curves.  Her long legs were accented by a pair of tall stiletto heels. A short purple jacket finished off her ensemble, the sleeves ending just below her elbows, and the jacket ending at her waist.

What stood out to me most was her eyes. Her eyes were a dazzling emerald green color, and her pupils were so small and thin they almost looked like cat's eyes.  Her eyes were dangerously narrowed, as if she was contemplating something serious.  She was vacantly staring at something laying on the counter, but it was blocked from our view by the arm of another customer.  Though she wasn’t looking directly at is in the photo, it still unnerved me.  I could almost feel her anger and frustration radiating off of the digital photo.

"Could I get a copy of this photo?" Thomas glanced back up at the woman.

She flashed her white teeth at him, "Hun, if you want my number, you just have to ask."

While Thomas and the woman flirted back and forth, I added some new notes to my investigation file.  This woman may be nothing special, but I couldn't help but think something was up with her.  Even in just a photo she had quite a presence.  The only problem was figuring out just how she was involved.  If she was even involved.

About twenty long minutes later, Thomas finally escaped the woman's grasp with some lame excuse, and the two of us hurried out of the bar and back to the car.