B4 — 41. A Sprinkle Of Christmas

AuthorSME

A Late Christmas Surprise Inside:  I hope you enjoyed the Holidays ... heh, like 3 months ago!

PoV:

1. Rachel Park (Our Lunar Hare)

2. Anthony (Rachel's Boyfriend)

I want to thank my patrons for continuing to support me:

Kyle Markman, RedWolf17, Edward O'Neill, Morgan McLees, Vantimiglia, Lyndwyen, Darth Mole, Richard Doss, and my other Patrons!

Rachel unfurled her umbrella and stepped partway into the falling rain, ears curved forward a tad to not brush up against the top, but she paused as a reptilian Beastkin by the name of Jairo walked forward to stop her.

“Yo—be here, the stop for King,” he demanded in his broken English, paying more attention to Vasishtha as the man gave a depressed sigh; it was obvious that he thought the muscular southern Indian man was more of a threat than her.

Great … My misfortune’s practically doubled…  Rachel dryly growled to Nia.

The girl’s absent tone hummed in her mind, popping back up as if in a little burrow dugout in her mind.  “Hmm … Are you going to fight them?”

Rachel’s full lips pulled in, head tilting to the side to look at Luka as the young man paused, facing going white as the three Beastkin spoke in Spanish.  “¿Por qué vendría aquí?”

[i.e., Why would he come here?]

I didn’t want to make a scene here—we were only supposed to make a quick appearance.

“Mmh,” Nia ducked further into whatever little hole she’d been searching around inside their shared spirit space; there were cracks all over the place where Yseress had shown her.  “You sound kind of frustrated right now—me, too … Big Sis hasn’t been talking to me.”

Keep at it, Rachel mumbled, scratching her arm.  Relica has a knack for throwing a wrench in everything I do.

“Yeah, dumb witch face—I wanted to box her ears.  Wait!  Big Sis … No, it’s just another decoy—she’s so good at hiding!”

That’s not the only concern…

“I know!  I know!  I’m trying to make Big Sis feel better,” Nia groaned, running her hands through her hair and disappearing from Rachel’s internal image of the girl.  “She’s been playing hide and seek with me, but I think she’s still hurt … She loved the new outfit, though!  Fu, fu, fu.”

I’m sure she did, Rachel grunted, ears twitching as she looked to the west.  We weren’t supposed to draw this much negative attention … Anyway, go on and see if she’ll teach you about her fashion.

“Oh, it’s cool!  You should…”

No, I’m fine for now, Nia—this new piece is enough to make me want to kill myself.

“Hmm?  I know you love it!”

Think what you want … Now, get out of here.

“Going!  Big Sis!  Are you here?  No…”  Her voice settled in the background, filtering out.

Yseress had been utterly silent to Rachel over the past two days; in a way, she thought the woman might be pouting, considering the stress she’d put the half-human Devil through, she could see it.

In the end, Rachel decided to let her demonic servant take her time in recovering; if it made Yseress feel better teasing Nia, then it was fine by her—in fact, it was nice having someone else to split the hyperactive bunny’s attention up.

Half out of the open door, Rachel’s fingers tightened around the base of the umbrella, doing her best not to crush it; Jairo was now standing a few feet away.

Rachel added a bright smile to catch the men off-guard, noticing the glaring serving women, and waved at the weary men.  “Luka, if you could be so kind as to translate for me.”

Luka shivered, after watching Vasishtha look to her for what their next play would be.  “Woah, woah—uh, they’re saying we need to stay because the Lion King is probably going to come … For real, why would he come himself, though?”

“Luka,” Rachel repeated, brushing back her hair with a strong note in her voice, “can you translate for me?”

He grimaced, shooting a side-long look at Vasishtha as he threw an arm over his shoulder.  “Yeah, be a pal, my friend; we’re on the same side.”

“Aye, I’m not your friend,” he grumbled, pushing away from the much larger man.  “I don’t want to get caught up in any of your trouble—I’ve got enough as it is.”

An annoyed hiss ran through Rachel’s teeth, her happy facade fading while scratching the base of her left ear; the wrong dominos were falling into place and she needed to get ahead of them—why Night’s Conquest pulled her to this guy was utterly beyond her.

“Do you want to rescue your sister or not, Luka?  I can help.”

The young man’s focus snapped to her.  “What do you know about my sister—are you from beyond the wall?”

Her misfortune increased.  Everything’s falling apart…

His question seemed to spark the Beastkin’s full attention, cautiously spreading out to face them.  One bad interpretation to the next … What did they even understand from that?  I suppose it can’t be helped.

Her fingers left the umbrella as she launched forward, the wooden floor creaking from the pressure her feet placed against the boards; none of them could react as she lightly tapped the reptile man’s chest, transferring a bit of her momentum to him.

Spinning to the next to flick the bottom of his chin, she grabbed the Crocodile man named Pol—their leader—by the throat, lifting him into the air.

In the flash of motion, her slipstream caused a gale to erupt around them as Jairo was blown against a few chairs and table, sending the objects flying.  The leopard Beastkin’s neck snapped up, eyes rolling into the back of his head while the Crocodile’s hands closed around her arm, gagging in his struggles to free himself.

The girls and Antonio cursed behind the counter, trying to comprehend what just happened as Luka tripped, landing on his butt in shock.

“For once, I didn’t want to fight,” she hissed, watching Pol’s eyes bulge, claws doing nothing against her lunar cloak.

Vasishtha puffed out a long breath while watching the event unfold, rubbing the side of his neck.  “By the gods, did it really need to come to this, Rachel?  I liked these guys.”

Ignoring him, Rachel gaze drifted to the quivering young man practically pissing himself.  “Translate for me, Luka—I’m not here to cause a problem, but I have places to be, and I am not in the best mood to be playing games.”

Luka stumbled to his feet.  “Hey!  Hey!  I—okay!  Okay!  Umm…”

Rachel tossed Pol atop Jairo to send the struggling reptile back to the ground; the Crocodile was gripping his throat, tears in his eyes and snot in his nose while Jario wheezed, clutching his pumping chest.

“Translate, Luka!”

“O-Okay!  Okay!”

“Good,” she sighed, rolling around her stiff neck while observing the bartender fumble with a shotgun from behind the bar.  “We’re not here to cause trouble for you, Antonio—and I know this is technically neutral territory, which is why I’m perfectly in my rights to defend myself from their forced stay … but if you’re going to join the conflict, I’ll act in kind.”

Africa, an older female cat server, stepped forward to put a hand on the bartender’s shoulder, seemingly asking for him to comply after seeing her easily handle the three.

“Oi, oi, Antonio…”  Luka hastily said, translating her words.

The man sniffed, taking a few deep breaths while looking at her—Rachel could tell he was suffering from some kind of PTSD, which could have come from the riots and anarchy that swept Havana after The Oscillation, but after a second, he hesitantly sat the weapon on the counter and held up his hands.

“W-We be bad…”

“Oof,” Nia said, popping up from her labyrinth.  “I know you were going easy on them, but that was still kind of rough.”

Rachel’s ear twitched, catching everyone’s eye, as a succulent voice inside her spoke for the first time in days.  “On the contrary … Perhaps you should have broken a few bones for wasting your time … Master.”

“Big Sis!”  Nia chimed, looking around.  “Big Sis?  Hmm … Gone, huh?  More games?!  Okay, I’m coming!”

Masking the joy at finally having the Devil acknowledge her, Rachel promptly spun on her heels to return to the door, picking up her umbrella.  “Now, let’s go, Luka—your sister doesn’t have all the time in the world.”

Vasishtha jogged over to the counter, pulling out another wad of cash from his back pocket and placing it before the wary man.  “Again, sorry, Antonia, Cloe, Africa, Aroa, Uxia—could ya see the boys get a bit for the trouble…”

Rachel stepped out into the downpour, still listening to the group; several things were already happening that she hadn’t anticipated, and it traced back to Relica’s corner of the city.

Uxia, the dog serving Beastkin, cleared her throat while the Legend prompted Luka to follow him.  “Vasishtha … Is everything okay … Are you really from the United States?”

He gave them his big, charming grin that made Rachel roll her eyes.  “Everything will be fine, and no, heh, I’m from India, ladies; this was just a big misunderstanding, and we’re in a rush—no hard feelings, guys?”

No hard feelings?  Rachel mused, listening to the grumbles and curses the Cuban Beastkin gave while collecting themselves.  I don’t know about that, but I can’t meet with the Lion King right now … even if I want to.

Her head tilted as she slowed, watching the rain haze the surrounding buildings; many of the establishments showed signs of damage, yet repairs appeared to be in progress, delayed by the hurricane.

A spur in her tail shot it on end as she turned to stare at the coliseum where the Lion King watched an ongoing match; so far as she could tell, he hadn’t left the spot for most of the day, accompanied by three others that seemed to be his generals.

Currently, two different groups from the bar were heading in that direction to report on the strange behavior, and those with good hearing knew what they’d discussed—a U.S. invasion alone would likely spark his interest—which was why Relica made a point bringing up specific topics.

Relica made it seem that we’re connected to her faction, and it won’t be hard for rumors to spread because of how I look … We need to kill that vexing woman, but she’s so guarded.

Rachel stopped on the sidewalk; the heavy rainfall collapsed around her as a few people hurried to their destinations, not wanting to get caught up in anything along the way.

Working with chaos was her specialty, although a few new mysteries and outcomes had diminished and made her question her supernatural senses.

Misfortune Detection had increased to the second rank after the Camagüey incident, yet after waking and making plans with Tom, it was obvious when Moongmor stopped enhancing the perception.

An achievement had been gained when she set in motion the events that forced Hell’s Gate closed—a powerful one—and certain feats were granted because of it, yet currently, they weren’t so physically evident.

One of the mysteries was a new passive and had it been in one of her Goddess Branches, it would have made her suspicious, yet this was placed in her base—Night’s Conquest—which the System gave little information on.

All she knew about the passive was that it had shown up at some point between when she’d awoken and when she last checked her abilities, which could have been before meeting Wolfgang.  It might have had something to do with the Goddess’s manipulations or even Izanami, but until she had a chance to question one of the two, she was in the dark.

It acted similarly to Misfortune Detection, except it was far more precise with the gut feeling it gave her, but she only had two instances where she’d felt its effects thus far—to delay a day and to focus on Luka when his voice entered her ear—for some reason, the young man was necessary for something.

Still, it didn’t make sense; she was a Lunar Hare, so why wouldn’t it be Lunar Conquest or something similar instead of the board encompassing night?  It bothered her, especially the unusual sensation that this boy was needed.

A pulse passed through her ears and tail as misfortune tickled her gut; the scales weren’t tipping her way, and she needed to find out how to shift the balance.

Luka hesitantly walked out of the building with Vasishtha by his side; the Legend grabbed a giant table umbrella just outside the door, cranking the lever to open it up to block the rain.  Sharp gusts tried to pull it away, but he stood firm, sheltering Luka as they made their way toward her.

“What did she mean about helping me get my sister?”  Luka asked, squinting through the hail of water to where she stood.

Vasishtha shrugged, frowning at her as they neared.  “No clue, ma man—Rach is the one with the plans.  So, what’s next, Captain—we really goin’ to Selvaria, or was that just an excuse to get out of there—our monster girl doin’ okay?”

Rachel didn’t respond for a moment, pensive eclipsed pupils and shimmering, pink four-leaf clover petals centered on Luka as he shifted uncomfortably in the chilling storm gale.  Why can I see a shadowy aura only around him—as if cloaked by night’s shrouding?

Nia halted her search at the thought.  “Oh, thinking about that strange dude again?  He can see past stuff, right?  Maybe he needs to get stronger.”

Maybe, Rachel muttered.  Relica ruined my chance at the slow and cheerful approach, though.  Perhaps it’s actually his sister that I need to rescue, and I need to do it through him?  Agh, I don’t know—we need to move, though.

“What?”  he asked, fidgeting under her stare.

Turning away, she continued down the stormy street.  “Selvaria is fine, Vash; she’s preparing for her part—we need to be careful what we say aloud—we don’t know who might be listening.”

Vasishtha snickered.  “Got a new nickname for me; huh, Rach?  Well, Vash has got a nice ring to it, and the ladies have it hard speakin’ Hindi—oh, is that why you don’t go by your Korean name?”  he asked conversationally.

“K-Korean?”  Luka studied her as Vash’s umbrella overshadowed hers.  “She doesn't look Korean.”

“I’m sure you’re an expert,” Rachel dryly muttered, hearing Nia laughing in the background.

A flush crossed the young man’s cheeks as he looked away.  “My bad—I’m just nervous—I mean, you took out those guys in a flash.  Why do you need me … If you’re with the U.S., then there are way better people to introduce you to Noah.”

Rachel’s gaze lifted to her covered umbrella as a crack of lightning flashed across the sky, followed by the long rumble.  “Does it matter?  Questions will only complicate things; we need…”

She paused, lips parting in question as a creature of some kind entered her perceptive airspace at extreme speeds; it was heading straight for their long, cleared-out street.

A low, jolly voice that held a steel undertone whispered in the animal’s ear from its back.  “Somewhere around here, Dasher…”

Ears swiveling to the side, she held out a hand.  “Quick, back away from the road!”

“Wha—hey?!”

Vasishtha was swift to react, grabbing Luka by the waist and leaping into an alley with Rachel—the temperature zeroed in a whirlwind—and to her surprise, the heavy rain turned to flurrying powder.

“Mmh—yes, there’s a clue in this city, but ho-ho-ho … What an unsettling place.”

Rachel waited in the alley as the man dismounted, and just barely seen through the snowfall, she caught hot steam shooting out of the nose of a colossal brown-furred reindeer.

Beside the beast was a tall, 6’6” semi-chubby man, dressed in a Santa outfit, but Rachel wasn’t fooled; underneath the layers of clothing and long, snow-white beard was a body built for a barbarian.

A big checkered bag was strapped to the back of the reindeer as the pair glanced around, and his bright glowing sky blue eyes scanned the storm turned blizzard, yet it was only in a hundred-meter radius of the two.

“What … Is this snow?”  Luka gasped, spinning around in a small circle.  “I-I’ve never seen it!”

“What’s going on?”  Vash asked, fixating on the two newcomers.

Rachel couldn’t believe it herself, studying the figure a little further away down the street as the watery ground iced over.  Really, it has to be the Myth or Legend of Santa, but why is he here—he’s fast, though—he covered miles in seconds … I’ve never heard anything like that, and had he not slowed for me to catch the trailing sound…

“Hmm…”  His twinkling irises shifted to center on them, a rosy grin lifting his cheeks as he reached up and removed his bag from the reindeer's back.  “C’mon, Dasher; let’s not be shy!”

Rachel loosened her neck and shoulders; she didn’t know what to expect—who would in this scenario—but she had to be prepared to move if needed.  Nia…

“IS THAT … SANTA?!”  Nia squealed!  “Oh, my, GOSH!  Are we getting presents?!  Is it—no wait, it’s not Christmas?”

Nia!  Battlesuit!

“Oof, yeah, don’t want to do Battle Suit #2 in front of Santa—WAIT!  Battlesuit?  B-But he’s Santa!”

Nia…  Rachel pleaded, jaw locking as the man strutted forward without a care in the world, big smile in place.  He’s strong … Incredibly strong.

“Okay…”  Nia whispered.  “But I don’t want to get on the naughty list!”

Her casual outfit swapped to her original combat version with the addition of her Demon Boots; Vasishtha noticed the changed demeanor and readied himself for a fight, but the man stopped two meters away, holding up a hand.

“Ho-ho-ho, no need for a fright, young lady, young man!  I’m just passing through—oh, and who’s this?”  he asked, sparkling gold light touching his fingers to materialize some glasses to perch on his nose while studying Rachel.  “My, my, my—why aren't you a rather cute little girl—Nia, is it?”  he questioned.

Rachel’s gut tightened.  He can see you?

“He sees me!”  Nia screamed in delight.  “I’m here, Santa!  It’s me!  Hi!  Do we get presents?!”

Luka shrunk behind Vash, watching in silence as the man’s cheery features slowly fell, still focusing on her.

Wanting answers, Rachel cleared her throat.  “So, am I to assume you’re the Legendkin based on the historic Santa—that toymaker?”

“Hmm, the Myth of Santa Claus, actually—not the Legend of Saint Nicholas; although, a fine lad he is,” Santa whispered, looking down at a rolled-up sheet of paper that appeared in his hand that fell to the snowy floor, seemingly expanding into eternity since it continued to unravel until touching the ground.  “My dear Rachel … Now why do you have someone with sins like this in you … Troubling … and such a tragic past.”

Yseress’s cautious and semi-pained voice spoke from the darkness in her mind.  “Be careful, Master … This person is unlike any you’ve met before—mystical power brims within him.”

“What?”  Nia cried, “No, he’s a good guy!  Scarlet has good memories of Santa!  He’s happy and gives gifts to good girls!  I’m a good girl!  Oh—oh, but Big Sis is a bad girl—oof—what about Rachel?”

“What do you want?”  Rachel bluntly asked.  “We’re in the process of freeing Cuba.”

He slowly nodded, rolling back up his parchment for it to vanish in twinkling light.  “I’m well aware of your activities—you tread a fine line between intent and deed, Rachel … Hmm, and you…”

The big man sighed, turning to give a solemn look at Vasishtha.

“Me?”  he asked, forcing a laugh.  “I’m clean as white!”

“Not in sheets like yours,” Santa returned, vision drifting back to Rachel.  “A complicated life you live—violence, yet good deeds done—a pained existence forced onto another that seems to have taken a turn for the fortunate.  In any case, I am not here to judge you tonight—to tell if you are worthy of karma’s gifts, but to continue my quest.”

A rumble shook in his voice while taking off his glasses and smiling at her.  “Still, it would be a shame to leave without a small reward for your deeds.”

“No way!  No way!”  Nia was practically foaming at the mouth.  “Santa’s totally real!  I’m gonna tell Scarlet, and she’s gonna be so impressed we met Santa!”

Yeseress grunted, pulling back into the shadows of Rachel’s spirit.  “Keep your eyes to yourself … You know nothing.”

A small, compassionate smile touched the man’s red cheeks.  “Perhaps not enough, my lady, but there can be rewards for even one such as yourself—even if I do not understand the reason.”

Rachel was somewhat taken aback as he put a hand in his big bag and pulled out six candy canes, three standard and three a shimmering gold.  “You can’t expect me to take that…”

Santa winked, letting the items go to float into the air to each of them.  “It’s not Christmas time, and I’m only losing strength by the day, but I can do at least this much for you—enjoy!”

His entire body dispersed into shimmering gold light before sweeping up to reform on the back of Dasher, and in a single bound, they were rocketing back into the sky.  “Ho, ho, ho!  I have faith that you’ll make wholesome decisions by the time Christmas comes, Rachel—until we meet again!  Now, on, Dasher—to rescue your sisters!”

Nia was in awe.  “No … way!  Santa’s reindeer are all female?!”

The unusual comment brought back a rather vague memory of a conversation she overheard the previous year—male reindeer lose their antlers during the winter; therefore, Santa’s had to be female—yet what reindeer could fly.

“What an insensitive fool,” Yseress grumbled, but there was the hint of a smile in her voice.

“We get treats?  I want to lick it!”  Nia salivated, watching the floating items lingering in the snowy flurry.

“Eh—Rach?”  Vash hesitantly asked, snapping her out of the absurdity that had just occurred.  “What’s up with that?”

Rachel’s head tilted, still scanning miles of ground, searching for the Mythickin, yet just as fast as he’d come, he was gone.  “I don’t … know—he’s gone, looking for his other reindeer, it seems,” she mumbled in disbelief at her own words.

Yeseress’s smirking tone entered her mind again.  “Master, they aren’t dangerous—in fact, the one left for me is a spiritual item that will not heal me but alleviate some of my lingering pain.”

It was all Rachel had to hear, reaching out to gather the floating food, and the moment her finger touched the golden candy canes, they turned to fading dust; only one of the four treats remained solid as she gripped it.  “They appear to be fine…”

She trailed off when Nia squealed.  “It’s right here!  I have it!  Oh, my, gosh!  Santa’s the best!  Mmm—peppermint!  Thank you, Santa!”

“Huh,” the Legend examined it for a second before biting into it—it was swiftly spat out.  “Yuck—tastes coalish … What about you, Luka?”  he asked, still chewing the bits.

The young man hesitantly sampled it and smiled.  “Wow—it’s sweet … like cake!”

“Humph…”  Vasishtha grunted, licking what was left in his free hand.

Rachel’s narrowed eyes fixated on the candy in her hand.  I understand he was following the prompts Mythickin have … Similar to my Lunar Pride … but why four if there’s only three of us?

“MoonMoon?”  Nia offered, happily bobbing back and forth.  “I didn’t get an extra one.  Did you, Big Sis?”

“No,” Yeseress hummed, “I did not—and I do not know where the other went, but it was certainly taken.  Now—mmgmmgh—I will enjoy this spiritual sleeping tonic.”

Sleeping what?  The Devil didn’t respond, but it seemed Nia was soon affected.

Rachel waited a few more minutes as the snow gradually returned to pounding rain and roaring thunder filled the heavens once again, yet after a time, she concluded it was something unique to the golden candy canes.

Her eyes widened when hearing Selvaria chomping down on a gigantic candy cane while kicking her legs against the docks where she waited for Rachel; she was waving off another reindeer and figure.  “Bye, Mrs. Claus!  Thank you for the treat; I’ll see you on Christmas!  I hope you get Rudolph back!”

The woman’s voice was lush and young.  “Thank you for listening, sweetie, and enjoy yourself.”

“Sorry I couldn’t help; umm, can you give one to Galatea, too?  She’s up in the turtle.”

“I can make a quick stop.”

“Thank you!”

It was odd hearing the quiet Leviathan girl so cheery and vocal; the Mythickin woman took to the heavens, and Rachel lost track of them.  No … I’m being distracted!  We need to … Damn.

The Lion King rose from his chair; he’d just received the report about a majestic, glowing white rabbit girl from the U.S. that claimed their military was on the way—he was heading to the bar, alone.

Not knowing if the candy cane had any hidden properties, she decided to save it for later, just in case; tossing the object to Vash, she adjusted her umbrella and briskly walked back into the rain.  “Hold onto that—and we need to go—now!”

She brought their path to meet with Noah, finishing up a meeting on how the various areas were faring.  If we can make it into his territory, it should make him back off…

Rachel slowed to a stop on the icy road, Vasishtha and Luka jogging over to meet her, still mumbling about the Christmas myth.

“Aren’t we in a hurry?”  the Legend asked, vision wandering.  “C’mon, don’t tell me that big guy’s comin’ back?”

Her nose twisted with agitation as she shifted to look west; the second the Lion King had left the room, he’d jumped down through a back balcony to run their way.  He’s fast, and with his sense of smell … This is why I didn’t want to draw his attention this early!

The umbrella handle snapped in her grip, falling to her feet as the weather struck her open skin and dampened her braided hair.  “Vash, take Luka back to Noah’s territory … I’ll meet you there when I can.”

The Legend hissed, following her gaze.  “Eh—want me to call for backup?  Scarlet should be able to get here.”

Rachel shook her head, leaning left and right to limber up as her heart beat like a happy drum; in the end, this was everything she wanted—not that it was in line with her initial plans, but adapting was a part of the fun.  “No—she needs to be in position—we don’t want to miss our chance, and I don’t want to ruin it for her.  I’ll be fine.  Go.”

He didn’t need to be told twice, hoisting a blustering Luka over his shoulder to dash into the night.  “Don’t go dyin’ on me, girl—Anthony would have my balls!”

She snickered at the joke, and Nia blushed inside her little hole, trying to fight the sleep to finish her candy.  I’m not my best without the moon, but at least my Lunar Pools are nearly full.  Now, come on; I’ve heard your bored sighs—let’s see how strong you really are—because I don’t see this ending without at least a few blows.

Flexing her fingers, Rachel made an inventory of her gained skills from her encounter with Hell; nearly everything had been improved, and she even had a few new tricks, including the Hellfire boots she wore.  However, if she could help it, the other item would remain buried from sight for eternity.

* * *

Puffing out a long stream while rubbing his eyes, Anthony blinked; the strange feeling of being between restlessness and fatigue filled his muscles.  A hook in his thoughts directed his gaze to the door, prompting him to leave.

He was about to follow it when a feminine voice he didn’t recognize grazed his mind; soft and compelling, she lulled his attention back to the curtains.  “Look to the inside to break the seals…”

Steeling his turbulent stomach, Anthony walked forward, dipped his fingers into the folds, and threw back the veil; an effulgence dazed him, forcing him to shield his eyes—the backyard steadily came into view as they adjusted—though, nothing of significance drew his notice.

“What am I doing?”  he muttered.

Unlatching the lock, he opened the window to be met by the strong sea breeze, carrying with it the familiar scents of his home—his home—yet he hadn’t called this place his home in some years.

Anthony glossed his tongue over his lips, distinguishing the salt, and a short cough shook his chest; leaning forward, he held up his hand to hack up a spray of water across it.  He choked a bit, clearing his throat as his eyebrows drew together while staring at the liquid.

“What—is going on?”  he grunted, wiping his mouth with the back of his free hand.

It was like he’d swallowed seawater; the sharp fishy taste was heavier than saliva on his tongue, and upon looking up, he noticed an abrupt change in the atmosphere; a mist had formed in the distance.  Fog wasn’t new to him—he’d grown up in the U.K., and by the ocean at that—but there was something ominous about the sight that tugged at his hazy mind.

His focus wandered to the backyard; nothing out of the ordinary caught his notice, but the spine-shivering sensation of being watched kept him sober.

Examining the perfectly trimmed trees, hedges, luxury aesthetic of his parents’ estate, Anthony’s jaw tightened, focus ending on the pale wall moving toward the manor; a wordless jolt in his muscles told him not to exit the house.

Anthony stood at the window for another minute, trying to push past the pull; he knew something was out there, just beyond sight, and he had to know what, even if every fiber in his chest told him to let it be.

Turning around, he made his way to the back door, folding the long sleeves of the flannel shirt he wore to the elbow; he was dressed for a casual day, but not a thing about this gave him the impression of an average start to his morning.

Why can’t I remember where I was or what I was doing?  If there are answers … it’s outside of this house.

AuthorSME

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