ã€ŠOf Monsters &amp; Menã€‹


 Prologue (Lioth)

    Of Monsters and men

    Prologue

    Fire. Lioth¡¯s entire world was fire as her serpentine form, its size dwarfing even the leviathans of old, bathed in the magma deep within in the Earth¡¯s molten core. The liquid fire was a comforting balm against the leathery wings that wrapped around her frame, cocooning her. Even her thick red scales tingled pleasurably at the soothingly warm touch, their smooth surface glistening with a pristine gloss after countless years of being polished from within the inferno.

    Lioth stirred slightly as she continued dreaming¡ªof wars fought eons ago between men and monsters; of sprawling draconian empires that spanned entire continents; of magicks powerful enough to slay even the gods and cast them down from the heavens.

    As she slept, Lioth let out a soft breath. Magic, thick and rich in power, poured from her nostrils in a bluish miasma, invisible to those not attuned to the astral. Before the miasma could escape, the swirling tendrils of magic were quickly drawn back to Lioth, compelled by her unspoken will, and injected into her body.

    Upon her belly, a patch of fractured scales that hid a grievous wound just beneath the surface began to glow the same bluish light of the magic. But slowly, under the nurturing care of magic, the cracks started to seal and the wound beneath began to heal. Time flowed onward and countless millennia passed as Lioth continued to slumber.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    As she regained her strength.

    Finally, the last of the magic infused into her body faded, its glow dimming to reveal her now flawless scales. And as the last of the magic dissipated into nothingness, the world itself seemed to grind to a halt, as if waiting with baited breath.

    Lioth¡¯s eyes snapped open.

    Thin mucous membranes slid aside from the massive orbs smoldering with a malevolent and utterly inhuman intelligence, and the pupils narrowed to thin slits. Revealing herself in all her draconic majesty, Lioth¡¯s wings lazily unfurled and stretched out wide, their monstrous span large enough to cast a shadow upon a small country.

    A low growl, the agitated grumble of a titan rousing from its slumber, rumbled at the back of her throat as a cold blue light began to emanate from between the many rows of her clenched teeth. Lioth took in a deep breath and drank in the fire around her, her scaled chest swelling. Then with a roar powerful enough to make the Earth tremble, Lioth whipped her head forward, a torrent of blue flames and raw magic pouring forth, flooding into the world.

    For Lioth, the Great Wyrm, had awoken.

    And magic had returned.

 Chapter One

    Of Monsters and men

    Chapter One

    Fuck.

    I fucking hate being sick. Because it sucks. A lot. Especially since, usually, my body is a well-oiled machine. I eat right, go to the gym, take my daily vitamins¡ªall that good stuff. As the saying goes, your body is a temple, and not to brag or anything, but the body of one Fitzroy O¡¯Brien is a kick-ass temple, complete with deadly Shaolin monks. So when I get into a funk like now, it¡¯s a surprise.

    A big surprise.

    Thankfully, the winter-chilled glass of the passenger-side window helped to ease the migraine pounding behind my eyes as I rested my temple against it, the short locks of my auburn hair providing only the thinnest of barriers. The cold was a much needed relief.

    Street lamps, and the overly cheerful ¡®Christmas Greeting!¡¯ neon signs plastered over all the street-side shops, passed by in a blur as I stared into the snowy haze beyond the glass. Soon we transitioned into a more residential area, where rows upon rows of apartment buildings lining the narrow street. In the background, a voice droned on over the radio as I watched the nightlife of the city pass before my bored gaze.

    ¡°¡ªhave been reports of a record number of flu cases this season, Alex. So to our faithful listeners, remember get your flu shot today, if you haven¡¯t already. There¡¯s nothing worse than being sick over the holidays.¡±

    I snorted.

    My flu shot hadn¡¯t done me much good.

    Before the radio host could speak up again, my raven-haired beauty of a girlfriend, Paige, clicked the radio off. She glanced in my direction and flashed me a faint smile, her lips painted a glossy cherry, as her attention wavered between the red taillights of the taxi in front of us and me. The expertly applied makeup hid the dark rings beneath her green eyes; however, exhaustion was still evident in her gaze. ¡°Sorry, were you listening to that?¡±

    ¡°Nope, you¡¯re good, Sweet Pea,¡± I said, using my endearing nickname for her¡ªto her eternal embarrassment. Even two years after we started dating, the sweet farm girl from a small mid-western town still blushed at the nickname, especially when among our friends.

    See, when we first started dating, I discovered she was one of those more uptight individuals. You know the type¡ªprofessional, responsible, reserved. Pretty much everything I wasn¡¯t. But as they say, opposites attract. She¡¯s the positive to my negative. The yin to my yang. The Hutch to my Starsky¡­if one of them was a chick. And they were dating.

    Okay, you know what, scratch that last one.

    Bad analogy.

    ¡°They still working you to the bone?¡± I asked. For the past few weeks, I¡¯d seen less and less of her at our apartment. And what few times I had, she¡¯d mostly been passed out on the sofa or curled up in our bed, a pile of medical texts scattered around her. In fact, tonight was probably the first time in weeks that both of us were together and awake.

    ¡°Pretty sure they¡¯re scrapping out the marrow now,¡± Paige muttered with a tired huff. ¡°So I¡¯d rather not listen to anything involving sick people, if you don¡¯t mind. Not on my one night off. Tonight, I just want to go to this party and catch up with our friends.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s a plan I can get behind,¡± I said cheerily, more than welcoming any sort of distraction from my own case of the flu. ¡°Tonight, Sweet Pea, we¡¯ll drown our worries in eggnog. Lots and lots of delicious eggnog.¡±

    She chuckled softly. ¡°Good.¡±

    Paige flicked on her turn signal as she pulled into an underground parking garage and found an open space. Our car¡¯s engine cut out with a twist of the keys. ¡°Can you get the present?¡± Paige asked as she started slipping on a pair of leather gloves.

    ¡°One present coming up,¡± I quipped. Then I reached into the backseat and lugged a long but thin gift, covered in the seasonal red-green gift wrap, onto my lap with a grunt. ¡°Ready?¡±

    ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡± She tightened her crimson scarf to hide the pale skin of her throat and then stepped out of the car. Muscles aching, I slowly lumbered out as well.

    We shuffled out of the garage and into the night. Paige shivered in the cold, despite the many layers she wore on her lithe figure, while I welcomed winter¡¯s icy embrace against my flushed skin. Must¡¯ve had something to do with my Irish blood, I guessed, as I deeply breathed in the chilled air.

    Across the street from us was a luxury apartment building that climbed into the darkened sky. Our destination and the new home of our host for the evening. Through the swirling snow, we hurried across the street and entered the building¡¯s lobby, shaking off the stubborn snowflakes that had clung onto our jackets.

    Behind the front desk was a dour-faced man a suit, his attention glued to the screen of his computer. He glanced up briefly at our entrance, his bored gaze passing over the present held in the crook of my arm, and muttered a rather unenthusiastic holiday greeting. Not that I blamed the poor guy. It must be pretty crappy to be stuck working this close to Christmas.

    Almost as much as being sick.

    Fucking flu.

    As we entered and rode the elevator up to the eleventh floor, Paige noted my uncharacteristic silence and the slight slouch in my usually confident posture. A worried look clouded her pretty face. ¡°You sure you¡¯re still up for this? We don¡¯t have to go. We can always head home and watch a movie with some hot coco, just the two of us.¡±

    I shook my head, chuckling. ¡°And miss seeing the latest addition to Cole¡¯s ugly Christmas sweater collection? I don¡¯t think so.¡± Besides, I knew just how much Paige had been looking for to this. She definitely deserved it after how much she¡¯d been working.

    ¡°Is that right?¡± Paige asked with an eyebrow raised.

    I shrugged helplessly. ¡°What can I say; the man has a gift that¡¯s transcended into a sort of macabre art form. How can I miss out on that?¡±

    Paige rolled her eyes in amused exasperation.

    Bing! The elevator doors parted as we reached the eleventh floor. There was a short hallway, one door on each side. The muted beat of Christmas music came from one of the apartments. I rapped my knuckles against the heavy door.

    Seconds later, the door open and the sounds of a party in full swing spilled out. A grinning woman stood in the doorway, her curly blond hair spilling over her shoulders and complementing her dazzling white dress. ¡°Paige! Fitz!¡± The bubbly woman lunged forward and embraced each of us in tight hug. ¡°It¡¯s been so long. Come in, come in.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you too, Jessica,¡± Paige said as we were ushered inside.

    As we shuffled through the door, my eyes widened at the spectacle within. It was like, well, a bunch of Santa¡¯s elves had splurged all their Christmas joy throughout the apartment. My god, there¡¯s even a gingerbread palace! Not a house, mind you, but a freaking palace. My stomach rumbled in delighted anticipation.

    ¡°Wow,¡± Paige mumbled. She blinked at the extravagant display, stunned. ¡°Jessica, you¡¯ve really outdone yourself. This is all amazing, truly.¡±

    ¡°Oh stop, you.¡± Jessica waved off the compliment playfully. ¡°Here, let me take your coats. You must be getting toasty in those heavy things.¡±

    Smiling from Jessica¡¯s infectious warmth, Paige quickly slipped out of her jacket, revealing a form-fitting black dress that accentuated her many curves. Hanging around her neck and resting upon her breast was a glittering emerald necklace that perfectly matched her eyes. She looked radiant.

    Noticing my stare, Paige jokingly swatted at my arm with her hand purse. ¡°Pick up your jaw there, Casanova. We don¡¯t want any of the other guests tripping over it.¡± My mouth shut with an audible click to the amusement of both women. Then I shrugged out of my jacket and handed it over to Jessica.

    ¡°Now Fitz,¡± Jessica said as she folded the jackets over her arm. ¡°Why don¡¯t I take Paige off your hands while you go find Cole? Us girls have got a lot to catch up on.¡±

    Paige gave me a peck on my lips that tasted of cherries. ¡°Go.¡±

    ¡°You have fun too.¡± I returned another peck.

    ¡°Cole should still be over by the tree,¡± Jessica told me. She gestured deeper into the party, over the crowd young adults who were all decked out in their finest attire tonight. ¡°Seeing you should do him some good, I bet. He¡¯s been feeling a bit under the weather lately. He caught that bug that¡¯s been going around.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± I said and headed off. Strangers, mostly friends of Cole and Jessica with the rare familiar face mixed in, passed by me. I nodded to each in turn, smiling, and occasionally offering a quick greeting before moving on.

    Even without Jessica¡¯s directions, it wouldn¡¯t have been hard to find Cole. Barrel-chested and mountain of solid muscle, he was a giant of a man that towered over the average person.

    Currently, the big man was slurping at mug of eggnog as he stood between the tree and a suit of genuine medieval armor that was decked out with a Santa hat. A familiar trace of strain was hidden within his jovial demeanor, along with the slight sheen of sweat on his brow, as he tried to politely listen to the couple standing in front of him. I waved to grab his attention and he immediately spotted me, looking quite relieved. He made a quick excuse and slipped through the couple that¡¯d cornered him.

    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

    And what I saw next was, quite simply, sublime.

    His sweater was thing of twisted beauty and of terrible genius. It was like someone had fused a Christmas tree partially into the front of his woolen sweater, creating some sort of blasphemous tree-sweater chimera. The lights and ornaments even lit up, as if to ensure you couldn¡¯t not see it in all of its horrifying glory.

    ¡°Fitz,¡± he said as he neared. Our hands slammed together in one of the manliest handshakes to ever exist. I steeled myself against the wince that threatened to overtake my face as I squeezed Cole¡¯s massive hand, and I was no slouch. Then I backed off, my hand throbbing with a pulsing ache.

    ¡°Been a long time,¡± I said.

    ¡°Six months?¡±

    ¡°Eight I think,¡± I said. ¡°Last time we were all together was during our trip to Brazil, when we went hiking through the rainforest with that Juan guy as our guide.¡±

    ¡°Right,¡± Cole drawled. ¡°But, you know his name wasn¡¯t Juan, right?¡±

    ¡°Really?¡± I paused in thought and scratched my head. ¡°Huh. You know, that might explain why he always seemed so annoyed whenever I called him that.¡±

    Cole snorted in amusement and clapped a hand to my back, knocking me forward a step. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you either way, man. But,¡± he stared pointedly at my slightly haggard face, ¡°You kinda look like shit.¡±

    ¡°Oh, that¡¯s rich coming from the guy wearing that thing,¡± I said, my gaze falling to Cole¡¯s sweater. Better yet, the mysterious life-form wrapping around and clinging to his chest.

    Cole raised up his mug of eggnog in defeat. ¡°Touch¨¦.¡±

    ¡°Now before my arms fall off, here. This is for you.¡± I hefted the lengthy present I¡¯d been holding towards Cole. ¡°Bit of an early Christmas present from Paige and myself. It¡¯s something for your collection.¡±

    ¡°Oh?¡± Cole drained the last of his eggnog and placed the empty mug on a nearby table. He accepted the gift, raising an eyebrow at its noticeable weight. ¡°Should I open it now?¡± he asked me uncertainly.

    ¡°Please. I won¡¯t get a chance to see the look on your face, otherwise, since Paige and I are heading up to her parents¡¯ place for Christmas Eve,¡± I explained.

    Cole grinned. ¡°Well then¡­¡±

    He tore into the gift to reveal an exquisite oaken case, where the imprint of a sacred tree was embedded into the lacquered surface. The O¡¯Brien family crest. Not that there was any family left, except for myself. Only pausing for a moment to admire the craftsmanship of the box itself, Cole undid the latch on the case and opened it.

    Resting upon velvet cushioning was an old Celtic sword, four and a half hands in length. Not a speck of rust clung to the iron blade, and its bone-carved hilt was polished to a shine despite all the centuries it¡¯d endured. Beside the sword was a leather sheath, one I commissioned myself since the original hadn¡¯t survived the test of time nearly as well as its counterpart.

    ¡°What do you think?¡± I asked Cole. ¡°Like it?¡±

    He stared at the ancient heirloom. ¡°Fitz, dude, I can¡¯t accept this.¡±

    ¡°You can and you will,¡± I said. ¡°This thing¡¯s been collecting dust in one of my family¡¯s old estates for years. Shit, decades even. Better it belongs to someone that can actually appreciate it and treat it with the respect it deserves.¡±

    ¡°Are you sure?¡±

    I laughed. ¡°Cole, shut up and accept the fucking gift.¡±

    ¡°Well shit, when you put it as elegantly as that, I¡¯ve got no choice but to accept.¡± Cole glanced at the sword admiringly one last time before closing the lid. Right away, I knew that I¡¯d made the right choice. Cole would take good care of it.

    Just then, I spotted Paige hurrying through the small crowd towards me, her jacket draped over her arm instead of piled away in a guest room. Uh-oh. That certainly didn¡¯t look good. ¡°Something wrong, Sweet Pea?¡± I asked when she got close.

    ¡°The hospital called me in,¡± Paige explained with a note of resignation. However, she managed to smile and nod at Cole. ¡°Cole, it¡¯s good to see you again. It¡¯s been far too long. And this new apartment of yours, it¡¯s lovely. You and Jessica did a wonderful job.¡±

    ¡°Jessica¡¯s work, not mine,¡± Cole said with a soft chuckle. ¡°But what¡¯s this about the hospital, now? Didn¡¯t you have the night off?¡±

    ¡°I did.¡± Paige sighed. ¡°But, they need me to pull an extra shift. It¡¯s the holidays and they¡¯re understaffed and overloaded. And that bug going around certainly isn¡¯t helping, either.¡±

    ¡°Well¡­fuck,¡± I muttered, my integral contribution to the conversation.

    ¡°Anyways, I¡¯ll need to take the car to get to the hospital. Will you be alright taking a cab on the way back?¡± Paige asked me, obviously still concerned about my slight flu.

    ¡°I¡¯ll be fine. Besides, I can always crash of Cole¡¯s couch if I¡¯m not feeling up to it.¡± To which Cole nodded in agreement. ¡°See? Nothing to worry about.¡±

    ¡°Good,¡± Paige said. Her gaze trailed around the lively apartment as if saddened to have to leave so earlier¡ªwhich she probably was. ¡°Make sure to save me some of that gingerbread for when I get back home, okay?¡±

    ¡°I make no promises,¡± I joked as my belly rumbled.

    ¡°Merry Christmas, Cole. Sorry I couldn¡¯t stay longer.¡±

    Cole waved it off. ¡°No need to apologize, it¡¯s alright. Maybe we¡¯ll plan something to do together on New Year¡¯s Eve. I¡¯m sure Jessica would be thrilled.¡±

    ¡°That sounds nice.¡±

    ¡°Come on,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll escort you out to the car.¡±

    ¡°No, you should stay inside where it¡¯s nice and toasty.¡± Paige shrugged into her jacket and tied her scarf snug against her slender throat. ¡°Doctor¡¯s orders, okay? I don¡¯t want to see that flu of yours worsen on my account.¡±

    ¡°If you say so, Sweet Pea.¡±

    Then she leaned in for a hug. ¡°I do say so,¡± Paige whispered with playful authority into my ear, her breath hot against my skin. She leaned back and patted my cheek with a gloved hand. ¡°Behave yourself while I¡¯m gone, m¡¯kay?¡±

    ¡°No promises,¡± I joked again, smirking.

    After flashing another one of her tired smiles, she left. And suddenly the party¡¯s cheery atmosphere lost some of its luster when the door shut behind her. Cole put a hand on my shoulder in sympathy. ¡°Come on, man. Let me introduce you to some people. Maybe get a mug of that eggnog I know you love, too.¡±

    With that, I let myself be led away.

    The next hour passed in a blur as I forced myself to go through the motions of socializing, guilt needling my mind as I enjoyed the night while Paige was stuck working. So when I managed to finally get free of all the handshakes and stories, I made sure to snatch up the emperor of the gingerbread palace and wrapped him up in a napkin for Paige.

    Then I greedily eyed the rest of¡ª

    Something struck me and I staggered into the table.

    A roaring scream battered against my mind. It drowned out the music and the concerned voices around me as I fell to my knees, my hands pressed hard against my splitting skull. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! As the roar reached a crescendo, my body felt afire and I half expected steam to start billowing out from my pores.

    With dim recognition, I saw Cole writhing on the ground across the room from me, his muscled frame being held down by a couple of struggling men to keep him from flailing about. Froth bubbled from his mouth and madness twisted his face. Then something beneath his skin rippled, as if trying to burst free.

    What¡ª

    What the fuck!?

    Then my stomach began to churn and demanded my full attention. It felt like something was trying to claw its way up my throat. Shoving aside outstretched hands and all the horrified gawkers that got in my way, I lurched towards the small bathroom at the other end of the apartment.

    The door slammed shut with a heavy bang and I locked it. My vision began to dim and I could hear the blood pounding in my head as my consciousness began to slip away. Using the last reserves of my strength, I collapsed and slumped against the toilet, my head positioned over it in case I puked my guts out. Thank fucking god, I made it in time¡­

    But just as I slipped into the darkness, I thought I could hear¡ª

    ¡ªScreams?

 Chapter Two

    Of Monsters and men

    Chapter Two

    My eyes fluttered open, and the world slowly came into focus.

    Reflected in the blue toilet water was the dark outline of my face. Huh. Even in the shitter I still looked good. Despite being quite groggy, I chuckled at my own joke as I pushed myself away from the toilet, and pressed my back against the wall. A low intermittent buzzing from above caught my attention, where the small bathroom¡¯s single light flickered uncertainly.

    How did I get here?

    How long had I been out?

    My memory was fragmented. Large chunks of time were missing, as if I¡¯d just woken up on the morning after a late night bender. But it didn¡¯t feel like that. In fact, I felt good. Very good. The flu that had been sapping my strength over the past few weeks had vanished without a trace. Now, an almost intoxicating vitality was surging through my veins.

    I felt strangely powerful.

    As an adrenaline-junkie, I¡¯d felt something similar to this many times before¡ªthis awesome sense of being alive. It was that exhilarating moment before leaping from a plane and going into free-fall, but magnified a thousandfold now. I almost half-expected my body to be trembling from all the pent up energy.

    What the fuck happened to me?

    Let¡¯s see, I remember¡­

    Paige. Right, my girlfriend. Her pretty green eyes and pale face flashed into my mind, though it was a bit difficult to maintain the image for some reason. My brow furrowed. We were going to a Christmas party together that was being hosted by¡­

    By who? My eyes squeezed shut as I ran a frustrated hand through my hair, pushing auburn locks back, but beyond the fragmented snippets of memories from the drive to the party, my memory was a gaping black hole.

    I pulled out my smartphone to check the time and for any messages. Maybe even a clue to help piece together a timeline. The device flickered on for an instant, but then the screen darkened as it died, its battery seemingly drained. My eye twitched, and my grip tightened around the smartphone.

    Crack!

    The smartphone¡¯s screen spider-webbed with cracks and its frame warped within my hand. Fuck! I dropped the phone as if it was viper and it clattered onto the linoleum, now dead and crushed. What the fuck? I stared in shock at my hand.

    My seemingly normal hand.

    Then I became aware a muffled song coming through the bathroom door, its lyrics stilted at times as if the electronic stereo system was hiccuping due to a glitch.

    ? Oh, the w¡ªweather outside is f¡ªfrightful ?

    ? But the f¡ªfire is so delightful ?

    My eyes lit up and I forgot about my hand.

    The party!

    This was Cole¡¯s party, I suddenly remembered.

    Someone might be able to tell me what had happened.

    Ignoring my phone and pushing all of the other weird shit to the back of my mind for the moment, I tried to open the door. But unfortunately, it wouldn¡¯t budge from my casual push. It was as if something heavy was blocking it. So, on my next attempt I threw my shoulder into the door and shoved it more forcefully to bust into the hallway beyond. Immediately, I slipped on something slick with a noisy squelch and pitched forward to face-plant into a blackened puddle, ruining the expensive dress-shirt that had always been Paige¡¯s favorite on me.

    What the¡ª?

    A faint coppery tang flooded my mouth from the droplets of the dark liquid that had splattered across my face. Pushing myself up, I spat out the metallic taste and wiped at my face. Then I raised the hand I cleaned myself off with for inspection. My blood-soaked hand, I realized with no small amount of shock.

    My heart began to drum within my chest, a rising beat. Slowly, I raised my head from the pool of blood I knelt in, my wide-eyed gaze taking in the apartment hallway I¡¯d just stumbled into even as the cheery music continued playing.

    ? The lights are turned w¡ªway down low ?

    ? Let it s¡ªsnow, let it snow, l¡ªlet it snow ?

    As if mirroring the song, the lights were flickering. Struggling. But despite the dim lighting, I had no trouble seeing the horrors in the hallway with me. Blood was everywhere. It was splattered across the hardwood floors, soaking into the fake cotton snow strewn about, and it painted the walls where Christmas wreaths hung. And the bodies¡­

    It was like some twisted child had torn off a doll¡¯s limbs and cast them aside, forgotten. Bile crawled up my throat but I swallowed it back down. I¡¯ve seen a lot from my many thrill-seeking experiences over the years, from bloody wounds to broken bones. But this¡ªthis was different. It was plain-fucking-evil, and my guts twisted at the sight.

    Would I find Jessica somewhere among the¡­pieces?

    Cole?

    A vile stench assaulted my nose then. It was a mix of raw sewage and rotting meat that nearly made me gag, and it was emanating from down the hall, where the main room was situated. That was also where the only door out was, unless I was willing to take a fifteen story plunge out the window for an early concrete nap.

    Left with no choice but forward, I pulled out my trusty folding knife from my pants¡¯ pocket. The four-inch, stainless steel blade wasn¡¯t designed for combat, but it¡¯d certainly poke a nasty hole in someone. Maybe those self-defense courses I¡¯d taken a few years back will finally be worth the money I paid.

    Shit, I hope not.

    I really, really, really didn¡¯t want to meet whatever could tear apart a full-grown man.

    Quietly, I scampered down the hallway, ignoring all the bodies I had to step over. The stench grew stronger with each step, masking the heavy aroma of the carnage around me, and the closer I got, the more pronounced a new sound became over the stilted music. A fleshy crunching with the occasional slurp.

    Someone was eating.

    Someone was eating in the midst of all this carnage, I amended.

    My palms felt sweaty as I held the knife.

    Just when I neared the threshold to the main room, the floorboards beneath my feet creaked loudly, as if to announce my arrival. My shoulders bunched up and I cringed at the sound, all while silently cursing the traitorous floorboards.

    Please don¡¯t hear me.

    Please don¡¯t hear me.

    Please don¡¯t-fucking-hear me.

    The crunching stopped. Then in the far corner of the main room, across the bloody war-zone of what was once a party, a hulking thing turned to glance over its shoulder, waves of that sickening stench rolling off it with each movement. Its large nose was squashed into its face, where warts and pustules dotted its putrid-green hide. The creature¡¯s wide mouth was stained with blood, and bits of viscera clung from between its rotting teeth. In one of its massive clawed hands was a half-eaten human leg.

    It was a troll.

    A fucking troll. It looked like it had jumped straight out of an old fairy tale, all big and burly and ready to exact its bridge toll. Suddenly, my knife didn¡¯t feel like such a reassuring weight in my hand. Not when pitted against the troll¡¯s knotted hide.

    But, what really threw me off was what it was wearing.

    Stretched taut across its massive torso and fraying at the edges was a hideous Christmas sweater. Cole¡¯s sweater. Blood drenched the woolen sweater, adding a grim dash of red to the Christmas green.

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    The troll¡¯s blank gaze fell upon me standing in the hallway, and as if struggling through a haze, I saw the faint spark of recognition appear in its beady eyes. Then a chillingly deep growl rumbled from deep within its chest. ¡°F¡ªitz?¡±

    No.

    No, no, no, no, no¡­

    This has got to be a nightmare.

    ¡°Cole?¡± I asked then, uncertain, as I carefully stepped into the main room, the knife hidden behind my back so as not to antagonize the monster. Because I¡¯m sure it¡¯d be really frightened at what it could¡¯ve considered as a toothpick.

    I sneaked a glance towards the apartment door¡ªmy only exit¡ªthat stood ajar. It was surrounded by the unlucky remains of those that hadn¡¯t escaped. And of course, it was dead-smack in between me and the troll, a good thirty feet away.

    ¡°C¡ªole?¡± the troll asked, as if testing out the unfamiliar name. Its face scrunched up in confusion. A face that bore a disturbing resemblance to my best friend.

    ¡°That¡¯s you,¡± I said slowly, edging closer to the door. But, my eyes remained glued to the troll, watchful for any sudden movement. ¡°You live here now, Cole, remember? You and Jessica.¡±

    The troll¡¯s eyes fell to the human haunch within its hand. ¡°Jess¡ªica?¡±

    My eyes widened even more. ¡°What happened to¡ª¡±

    ¡°Y¡ªou smell good,¡± the troll interrupted suddenly. Its wide nostrils flared as it breathed in deeply, somehow ignoring its own stench, before exhaling with a satisfied sigh. A hungry gaze eyed me up and down, smothering whatever spark of recognition was once there. I could already see the troll beginning to salivate. ¡°Why you smell so good, F¡ªitz?¡±

    Then, as if some cosmic joke, I noticed the new song playing in the background.

    ? Make my w¡ªwish come tr¡ªtrue, Oh ?

    ? All I want for Christmas is y¡ªyou ?

    Not good.

    I broke into a sprint for the door.

    Cole the Troll roared and lunged forward, his lumbering pace more than compensated for by his inhumanly long stride, each of his steps worth five of my own. Bodies were kicked away or flattened beneath his thundering charge. Just as I reached the door, my hand outstretched for the handle, Cole clubbed me away with a brutal sweep of the haunch still in his hand.

    It struck me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me as my body folded over it, and sent me flying across the room. I crashed into the Christmas tree, slamming the nine-foot evergreen into the wall as it cushioned my impact, its branches snapping beneath my weight.

    Ugh¡­

    That fucking hurt.

    Even worse, some of the ceramic ornaments had shattered, their thin shards having easily sliced through my shirt and embedding themselves into my back¡¯s tender flesh. The stinging pain drew a grimace from me. But I quickly forgot about the pain when I saw Cole hurtling towards me, the knuckles of his lanky arms pounding into the ground as if he were a charging gorilla.

    That was around half a ton of NOPE barreling right in my direction.

    Thankfully, I still have my¡ª

    ¡ªMy hand was empty.

    The knife was gone. Fuck! Scrabbling, I frantically began sifting through and tossing aside the presents scattered around me, but my knife was nowhere to be found. So I grabbed the closest present and lobbed it at Cole, hoping to slow him down at least. He tore through the present with a swipe of his clawed hand, shredding the plaid socks within.

    Plaid socks?

    Really?

    Maybe I can throw a bag of feathers at him next.

    Focus Fitz! Feeling the mounting pressure, I shook away my distracting thoughts and cast my gaze around once more, searching. Something shined among the nearby presents, and a devilish smile split my face. Because within the clutter of gifts, I spotted a familiar oaken case, its lid knocked open from my earlier impact. The silvery sword within almost beckoned me. Cole must¡¯ve placed it under the tree with the other gifts after he¡¯d opened.

    With a wordless roar, Cole raised an arm as he pounded closer, and using the human leg as a makeshift club, he brought it down in a powerful overhead swung. Instinct took over. I dove towards the sword in a roll, drawing upon my natural athleticism. The leg-turned-club smacked into the spot I once occupied with a sickening crunch. Cole¡¯s glare turned to follow me as he snarled. ¡°No more run, F¡ªitz.¡±

    ¡°Forgive me if I ignore the advice of the monster trying to eat me,¡± I quipped, my roll ending with me in a crouch, the sword now in hand. Beside me was the Santa hat-clad suit of armor, and the kite shield held before it, affixed to its crossed arms.

    Might as well complete the set, Sword & Board style.

    As Cole began to rush me once more, I jumped toward the knight, and with a surprising surge of strength, I tore the shield from its grasp. Or from its arms, really, since I accidentally tore the gauntlets off along with the shield.

    In my hands, the shield itself felt surprisingly light. Dangerously light, even. But before I could worry if it was a genuine tool designed for combat, Cole swung at me again.

    I had just enough time to raise the shield.

    The monstrous strength behind Cole¡¯s blow sent me tumbling backwards, my curled up body bouncing and rolling across the room as if I were a human pinball. My dizzying roll ended abruptly as my back smacked into a clawed up and overturned couch. A rumbling chortle came from Cole as my world continued to spin. ¡°Got F¡ªitz now.¡±

    I growled then.

    I actually growled.

    Planting the sword into the ground, I hauled myself to my feet, swaying slightly. The shield hung loosely in my other hand, a bloody smear on its otherwise smooth surface. Cole grinned at me, his rotten smile slathered with drool and blood.

    No.

    Not Cole.

    I don''t know how this could''ve happened, but this thing wasn¡¯t my best friend, not anymore. It was a monster, pure and simple. An unrepentant monster that had murdered and eaten people. A monster that I needed to put out of its own misery for the person it had once been. My pounding heartbeat began to slow.

    Ba-Bum. Ba-Bum. Ba-Bum.

    Ba-Bum. Ba-Bum.

    Ba-Bum¡­

    A familiar calmness settled over me. It was the same the same calmness I felt just before I did something stupid and dangerous and exhilarating, often all at the same time. My fears just fell away then. For now, I focused entirely on this moment. On the now.

    I¡¯d worry about the consequences later.

    I cracked my neck and rolled my shoulders, the mysterious sense of strength flooding through my limbs. My hand tightened around my sword¡¯s bone grip, and I only now realized how strangely right it felt in my hand. Then I pointed the tip of my blade at the troll. ¡°Get ready, bitch. I¡¯m about to go full on medieval on your ugly green ass.¡±

    ? Oh, b¡ªbaby, all I want for Christmas is y¡ªyou ?

 Chapter Three

    Hey there, guys! Sorry this chapter is a day late. This past weekend was my birthday so I spent most of it relaxing with my family. Anyways, here''s the third chapter. Took me a bit longer than usual to write up (as with most fight scenes I write). If you spot any mistakes, please let me know so I can fix them up. Thanks!

    <hr />

    Of Monsters and men

    Chapter Three

    Sneering at my bravado, the troll stomped a foot down and unleashed a powerful roar, its eye-watering breath hitting me as if it were a physical force. It disdainfully cast away the human leg in its fist, now reduced to a bloodied ruin from the abuse it¡¯d been put through. The discarded limb smacked against the glass slide-door to the apartment¡¯s balcony and left a bloody streak. Using its long reach, then, the troll took hold of the half-crushed Christmas tree by its thick stump.

    Now, I¡¯m no expert swordsman¡ªshit, I¡¯d barely qualify as a novice swordsman¡ªbut I¡¯m pretty-fucking-sure no one¡¯s devised techniques for dealing with evergreen-wielding trolls. So as far as I was concerned, my inexperience with a blade seemed rather negligible at the moment. I¡¯d just have to improvise.

    And I was an expert at that.

    Bloodlust in its narrowed eyes, the troll stooped forward and broke into a ground-shaking, three-limbed lope right in my direction, the evergreen dragged carelessly behind it. ¡°Now me eat F¡ªitz!¡± it growled.

    ¡°Challenge accepted, bitch!¡± I bellowed in return.

    Twirling my sword, I took a confidant step forward.

    Then I took another as a savage grin spread across my face. Before I knew it I was in a dead sprint. And, man, I was fast. Far faster than I¡¯d ever been in my life. It wasn¡¯t exactly a superhuman-tier boost, but it was noticeable, as if I were in peak physical condition. My legs pumped like tireless pistons as I ran to meet the charging troll.

    I was going to fight him head-on, Mano a Trollo.

    My grin widened and my pulse quickened.

    The troll¡¯s muscles bulged with thick veins as its grip tightened around the tree stump. Roaring, fetid spittle spewing from its maw, the troll whipped its arm forward to bring the nine-foot evergreen around in a sweeping arc. The decorative crystal star atop the tree rushed to meet my unprotected face.

    The safe bet right about now would be to raise my shield and try to absorb the blow. But that¡¯d mean I would start off fighting defensively against a far tougher and far stronger opponent.

    No thanks.

    Beside, I¡¯m more of ¡®Big Risks, Big Rewards¡¯ kinda guy.

    Playing it safe was never my style.

    So screaming in wordless defiance, I chopped down at the tree without even breaking my stride. The ancient sword sheared through the evergreen¡¯s prickly branches and Christmas lights to bite into the tree¡¯s thick core¡ª

    ¡ªAnd then cleave it in half.

    The crystal star shattered upon the hardwood floor.

    Surprise flickered across the troll¡¯s ugly green mug. And not encountering the resistance it¡¯d expected, the momentum of the troll¡¯s powerful swing overextended it, exposing its vulnerable flank. My sword sliced through the air again, whistling.

    There was no fancy flourish or skillful technique to the attack. It was just brutal slash¡ªsimple, effective, vicious. The troll¡¯s leathery hide and that hideous woolen sweater it wore parted under my blade¡¯s sharp touch as I scored a long gash across its ribs.

    Ha!

    This swordplay stuff wasn¡¯t so¡ª

    Its visage a twisted rictus of anger and pain, the troll adjusted its overshot swing surprisingly fast and redirected the momentum for a crushing overhead strike. The furious attack had an almost suffocating pressure behind it.

    Fuck!

    Too fast!

    I barely managed to raise my shield overhead in time.

    Clang!

    The remained half of the tree exploded into a shower of wooden shards. My knee slammed into the ground with an aching crack under the troll¡¯s overbearing strength, and my shield arm went numb. Now unarmed, the troll shot out a hand to snatch me up, its bloated tongue snaking out to lick its blood-encrusted lips as if preparing for the coming meal.

    Desperate, I tumbled forward onto my shield and dodged beneath the grasping claws by mere inches. Underfoot of the troll, then, I shoved the iron tip of my sword at its exposed crotch, screaming with battle-inspired madness.

    I was rewarded with a shrill shriek for my efforts.

    The monster staggered backwards, its hands covering its ruined¡ª

    ¡ªTrollhood?

    Even I winced a bit in sympathy.

    Ignoring the worsening stiffness in my knee, I surged forward and aimed for the troll¡¯s throat with a quick thrust. But even through the gut-wrenching agony I¡¯d inflicted, it spotted me coming. The troll raised a defensive hand in time to intercept the fatal lunge.

    The length of iron rammed straight through its wart-ridden palm to its very hilt. Swamp green blood oozed from the pierced hand, its odor somehow far worse than the troll¡¯s unnatural musk.

    Then the monster¡¯s long fingers closed around the sword¡¯s crossguard to lock it in place. Mere feet apart, the troll¡¯s nauseating breath was uncomfortably hot against my flushed face. Its smoldering gaze met my own. ¡°F¡ªitz,¡± the troll growled, its nostrils flaring.

    Uh-oh.

    The troll plowed its other fist into my gut.

    My sword was ripped from my grasp and I was flung high into the air, over the waist-high partition dividing the living room and the kitchen, and then sent smashing into a couple of wooden cabinets above the kitchen¡¯s marble countertop, crumpling them.

    Dazed and aching, I pitched forward and collapsed onto a tiled floor, the sound of expensive chinaware shattering around me as they fell from the cabinet my body had so thoroughly demolished. Knocked ajar, a flickering light poured out from the stainless steel door of the refrigerator nearby.

    Wheezing, I pressed a hand to my sore ribs as I hauled myself upright, using the marble countertop behind me as a support. A coppery-sweet tang filled my mouth, and I spat out a glob of blood onto the floor. A sticky warmth trailed down my back and I noticed my left shoulder felt tight. I reached over to pry out a jagged fragment of chinaware that¡¯d been embedded in my back, its length slick with my blood. It fell from my trembling fingers¡ªa result of adrenaline, not fear.

    In the main room I spotted the troll¡¯s giant figure, waiting.

    Waiting for me.

    Vile green blood trailed down its hand and dripped from the tips of its gnarled claws. Even its legs were drenched with blood. Now aware of my attention, the monster raised its pierced hand, my sword still embedded deep within its flesh. Slowly, it drew out the sword then with a toothy grin. The weapon clattered onto the ground unceremoniously, the troll¡¯s viscous blood coating it.

    But the troll wasn¡¯t done just yet.

    It turned its bloodied hand for me to see. Then the wound began to heal, it¡¯s once ragged flesh beginning to knit together before my very eyes. It was actually regenerating.

    That¡¯s¡ª

    Motherfucker, that¡¯s cheating!

    ¡°Now F¡ªitz die,¡± the cheating bastard rumbled with amusement. It fell on all fours, its hungry gaze locked onto me as its leg muscles began to tense. The monster¡¯s nails bit into the hardwood as it launched itself into the air with a startling speed, its arms spread wide for a fatal embrace.

    Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

    I turned aside in a frantic attempt to dodge and brought up my shield. Seeing me almost slip away, the troll twisted midair like a cat and batted my shield away with one hand. Then the claws of its other hand raked across my defenseless chest.

    An agonizing scream ripped out from my throat. The troll¡¯s victory was short-lived, however, as it then smashed headfirst into the wrecked cabinets I¡¯d demolished earlier.

    This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

    Blood seeped through my fingers as I pressed a palm to the three ragged lines carved into my tender flesh. Luckily, they didn¡¯t seem too deep. But, fuck me, did they hurt. A lot. I stumbled away from the stunned troll as it shook its head, collecting what few wits it still had within that thick skull.

    The troll began to slowly rise.

    A weapon, I thought.

    I needed a weapon, right-fucking-now.

    My eyes darted around for anything nearby I could use. They practically lit up when I spotted the knife block on the countertop beside the kitchen sink.

    I snatched up one of the many culinary knives slotted in the block, and then I flipped the knife, catching it by its reflective steel blade. It wasn¡¯t designed for throwing¡ªor killing trolls for that matter¡ªbut I work with what I get.

    A half-crazed smile split my face.

    Let¡¯s see how you fare against something other than plaid socks!

    I whipped my arm forward, sending the knife tumbling end-over-end through the air. The troll just managed to swing its head ponderously in my direction when the knife smacked into the center of its forehead, handle-first.

    Fuck...

    The knife clattered onto the floor, and the troll could only blink at it before raising its hateful gaze to find my sheepish expression.

    Okay, I¡¯ll admit it; I¡¯m not the best knife thrower.

    But thankfully, I had five more knives.

    That meant five more chances.

    It¡¯d be a tactic of quantity over quality, as it were.

    The second knife went spinning a heartbeat later. Its blade sunk three inches into the troll¡¯s shoulder. Snarling, the troll ripped the knife out with a spray of blood, rivulets of green now trailing down its arm. I drew out my next projectile without a moment of hesitation.

    But with the gleam of near-human cunning in its eyes, the troll grabbed ahold of the ajar refrigerator door beside it and tore it free with a strained growl.

    It got itself a shield.

    Well, shit.

    My third knife was batted aside by the refrigerator door and left only a slight scratch on its otherwise flawless surface as the troll broke into a lumbering sprint. Then mid-stride, its upper body began to twist, as if it were readying to chuck a discus.

    Or, a big-fucking-door in this case.

    Its muscles swollen with incredible power, the troll heaved the door into a horizontal spin, the sheer force of it no doubt able to easily cleave me in half. My shield wasn¡¯t going to be deflecting that anytime soon, so I dove flat onto my stomach.

    Boom!

    The apartment violently shook at the bone-jarring impact, and what contents on the refrigerator door¡¯s racks were sent flying. Glancing over my shoulder, I saw the door buried halfway into the wall behind me. Holy shit. A geyser of water erupted from the demolished sink faucet and sprayed the area with a fine mist.

    Definitely dodged a b¡ª

    ¡ªI mean, a door there.

    Rolling onto my back, I rocked back and did a quick kip up to get on my feet.

    Tired and sore and bleeding, I turned to find the troll back in top form, its wounds almost entirely healed as it plodded closer. It stared at the blood oozing from my chest, and the troll¡¯s nose twitched as scented the air. Its eyes rolled up into its skull and it seemed to shiver with pure delight.

    It was savoring the moment.

    The kill.

    Something bumped into my foot. I glanced down and spotted a yellow lemon-shaped container of lemon juice. It must have fallen from one of the refrigerator door racks. Staring at it, an idea began to take shape as the troll¡¯s eyes refocused.

    I knelt down to pick up the container.

    My thumb popped the green cap off just as the troll lunged for my throat. I knocked aside the gnarled claws with my shield, redirecting the brunt of the blow away from me as I slipped past its guard. The troll¡¯s eyes widened, as if relishing the fact I¡¯d willingly embraced my fate.

    But, when life gives you lemons¡­

    You squeeze them into a man-eating monster¡¯s eyes!

    I crushed the container dry, laughing. The troll reeled back and wailed in agony, one hand clutching at its face while the other blindly swatted the air before it. Ducking beneath its wild flailing, I darted past the troll and leapt clear over the kitchen-living room partition, my taunting laughter trailing behind me.

    The troll blindly charged after me in a frenzy, its claws slashing through the air as if to cut down anything in its path. It burst through the partition as if it wasn¡¯t even there. Its watery eyes an inflamed red, the troll heavy footsteps thundered behind me. ¡°F¡ªITZ!¡±

    I snatched up my sword in my mad dash and continued onward, my end-goal close. Then I reached the other side of the room. My chest heaving, I turned with a faint smile tugging at my lips.

    The troll came barreling straight for me, half-blinded by rage and lemon juice.

    ¡°Come on,¡± I muttered with impatience.

    Just a little more.

    The troll stooped forward, its wide shoulders hunched as if preparing to tackle me. I twisted aside at the last moment and brought my sword around in a low arc. The blade bit into the lower calf muscle of the troll¡¯s right leg, hamstringing it. Then the monster crashed through the glass slide-door to the balcony, and rammed into the guardrail, knocking it almost loose.

    The guardrail groaned under the troll¡¯s considerable weight.

    Below it was a nasty fifteen-story drop to a concrete street.

    All it needed was a little push.

    Glass crunched beneath my shoes at my swift approach. The troll turned to see me, a mixture of outrage and sudden understanding written across its toad-like face. It knew this was the end. A primal roar erupted from my throat as I planted my foot onto its broad chest.

    The troll reached out for me in one last defiant act. ¡°F¡ª¡±

    I pushed with all the strength I had left. The guardrail gave way with a high-pitched squeal, and the troll tumbled into the wintry embrace of the night¡¯s wind, its arms grasping for a ledge beyond even its long reach. The monster¡ªCole¡ªvanished beyond the edge, gone.

    It was done.

    Finally.

    Exhausted, my body slumped against the doorway. The icy wind was a soothing touch against my skin as I greedily drank in the cold air, my every labored breath coming out in plumes of white smoke. Then I noticed the bright glow in the night.

    My gaze steadily rose.

    In the distance¡ªthe heart of the city¡ªan ocean of fire raged.

    The towering flames brightened the night, as if it were the coming of a new dawn.

    A new age.

    Within the inferno, surveying its domain, a massive shadow shifted from its roost atop a skyscraper billowing with black smoke. The shadow fell from its perch. But before it was swallowed by the hungry flames below, a pair of leathery wings unfurled to halt its descent and let it glide above the fiery sea. A beat of its monstrous wings battered down the flames beneath it as it shot up into the sky, disappearing.

    Across the entire city, lights flickered as if the power grid were struggling. Far off screams were carried on the howling wind, and emergency sirens blared nonstop. I thought I could even hear the howling of wolves in the distance. And seeing all this, only one word came to mind.

    ¡°Fuck.¡±

 Chapter Four (Chloe)

    Hey guys. This chapter took a long time to write since it''s over double the usual length (nearly 6k words). Besides following Fitz story, I''m going to occasionally add in other side PoVs (from this new character and even some monsters) as a world-building tool, as well as giving some insight into what''s going on in other parts of the city.

    Unfortunately, one of the cool little parts I wanted to add (a mystical language for the ritual) didn''t translate too well on RR, as it was a unique font type, so I went with the more mundane version.  :-/

    Anyways, Fitz will be back for the next chapter! Let me know if you find any mistakes so I can correct them. Thanks!

    <hr />

    Of Monsters and men

    Chapter Four

    ~ Shortly before the Awakening ~

    Eyes red, Chloe wiped the snot from her nose, using the cuff a long-sleeve shirt poking out from her leather jacket. ¡°Get it together, Chloe,¡± she mumbled through another sniffle. ¡°Get it the fuck together.¡±

    She rubbed the tears out from her watering eyes, careful to use her sleeve again as her trembling hands still reeked of the alchemical salves she¡¯d used for the burns.

    Still sniffling, Chloe adjusted the strap of the beat-up messenger bag biting into her shoulder. She slipped through a set of double doors that had opened for the doctor she trailed behind, entering the Intensive Care Unit of the Saint John Hospital.

    The worn soles of her army-surplus boots clicked sharply against the pristine white vinyl flooring as she shuffled down the sparsely Christmas-decorated hall. However, no one seemed to notice her passing¡ªnot the loud report of her footsteps, or even the out-of-place teenage punk they belonged to.

    The exhausted gazes of the hospital staff seemed to just slide off of Chloe. Nurses shuffled aside, almost unwittingly, to let her pass unmolested. And it was all thanks to her latest shoddily-crafted creation, an obfuscation charm.

    One hand clutching at the strap across her chest, Chloe nervously plucked at the glowing charm pinned to her leather jacket. It was of a runic design, belonging to some ancient druidic circle and hand-carved from cedar, a wood renowned for its latent properties of protection.

    In this case, protection from the eyes of others.

    But the cloak didn¡¯t extend to her effect on the world. After all, bending the laws of the universe to one¡¯s will was rarely subtle. Magic always left signs, especially upon the technology so reliant upon those laws.

    The hospital staff worriedly glanced around when the hallway lights began to flicker, when monitors glitched into nonsensical displays of fragmented data, when the announcement over the nearby P.A. system became muffled with static. And all of this was a result of her drawing upon only a little ambient magic in the air to power the charm.

    Chloe chewed on her bottom lip as she picked up her pace.

    The faster she got out of here, the better.

    So before she got totally lost in the maze of corridors, Chloe unwound the silver chain wrapped around her wrist and held it out before her. A dowsing crystal with a clouded red center dangled from the chain.

    The droplets of blood infused within the crystal served as a material link to her target, allowing her to circumvent anti-divination charms¡ªof which she knew there were plenty. Chloe narrowed her eyes and concentrated.

    Harnessing the fiery spark of magic within her, she began to manipulate the ambient magic around her, a bluish haze to her magesight, and injected it into the crystal. She whispered out a word of power, the verbal component of a spell that shapes the magic according to one¡¯s will, for her incantation. ¡°Quaertie.¡±

    The dowsing crystal began to swing in a tight circle, and the hallway lights began to dim. Chloe tried to picture the cherubic face of her nine year old brother, his cheeks still pudgy with baby fat, and that ruffled mop of brown hair hiding a pair of mischievous eyes. But then his skin began to peel as horrid burns¡ª

    ¡°Come on, Chloe,¡± she growled. ¡°You need to concentrate.¡±

    Swallowing her horror, Chloe looked down to find the dowsing crystal flashing in the direction of a nearby hallway whenever it completed a full rotation. She let the crystal guide her as she continued deeper into the hospital, dreading what she¡¯d find upon her arrival.

    ~~~~~~~~~~

    The dowsing crystal flashed towards the closed glass door before her. On the other side was her brother. No cops were posted outside his door for security, so no one suspected him of accidentally burning down the abandoned warehouse that had been their home for the past few weeks.

    It was a small blessing.

    Wrapping the crystal around her wrist once more, Chloe gulped audibly and steeled herself for whatever was inside. She pressed a hand onto the room¡¯s card reader and channeled in some magic to scramble it¡ªa little B&E trick Chloe had picked up over the years. A moment passed, and then the reader issued an acceptance chime.

    She slid open the door and stepped inside.

    Chloe flinched as the overpowering aroma of antiseptic seared her nostrils, and she barely even registered the soft click as the heavy door slid shut behind her. Laying flat upon the room¡¯s single bed was the small figure of a comatose child.

    Benjamin.

    His lanky frame was cocooned in layers of bandages, as if he had been mummified. Beside his bed were a morphine drip, along with other IV bags, and an EKG monitor, where the latter displayed the weak pulse of his heartbeat. Breathing tubes had been shoved down his throat and the wheezing hum of a ventilator filled the silence.

    ¡°I warned you,¡± Chloe whispered. She blinked away the tears that began to well in her eyes. ¡°I fucking warned you. You should never play with magic, you stupid kid.¡±

    Magic wasn¡¯t a toy, and she had the scars to prove that. She¡¯d hoped to spare her brother the pain of her hard-learned lessons. But just as she¡¯d once been at his age, he was a stubborn child. A firebrand. He had a youth¡¯s sense of invincibility, and he¡¯d been proven how wrong that assumption was.

    Magic was dangerous.

    Deadly.

    Especially now, when in the past few weeks, magic had been pouring up from the earth in unprecedented amounts. It was a phenomenon that still mystified Chloe.

    For countless generations, most unaffiliated mages had been reduced to little more than hedge wizardry, performing only the weakest of cantrips that barely rated above parlor tricks¡ªnot due to lack of skill, but rather a lack of power.

    Of magic.

    That was why so many practitioners employed the use of foci, such as charms and amulets, or complex rituals incorporating all manner of occult paraphernalia. It all helped to reduce the necessary cost of the very limited magic at one¡¯s disposal by refining its potency. It was the reason why Chloe, herself, might qualify as a walking arsenal of magical trinkets¡ªas with most serious mages.

    Now though, magic saturated the very air. To her magesight, the bluish miasma of magic seemed to curl up from the earth like smoke pouring out from a furnace. It was as if a dam had broken to end an eternal drought, and similar to men dying of thirst in an endless desert, the temptation to dive into the magic¡ªto drink it in and harness it¡ªwas almost irresistible.

    And that was dangerous.

    All mages could hear the magic whispering insidious promises of power, but now it was louder than ever, its twisted promises sweeter than even ambrosia. It was a sea of untold power begging to be tapped. But those that had never learned to swim would often drown.

    Just like Benjamin.

    Chloe approached her brother¡¯s bedside. The hospital machinery almost immediately began to go on the fritz, but Chloe ignored it. For a brief moment, she reached out to Benjamin¡¯s bandaged forehead, but she stopped herself, hesitant to even touch him.

    ¡°Hang in there, Benji,¡± Chloe said as she withdrew her hovering hand. ¡°Just hang in there for a little bit longer. Your big sis is going to fix you up, okay?¡±

    Despite her comforting words, Benjamin lay still as death.

    Chloe took a deep breath to steady herself, and then she got to work. She lifted her bag¡¯s strap over her head and heaved the heavy messenger bag onto the foot of Benjamin¡¯s bed. She began to pull out the tools she¡¯d need from within, listing off each component in her head.

    Candles.

    Incense.

    Chalk.

    Lastly, she slid out a thick tome radiating a profound sense of power. It was one of Chloe¡¯s most prized possessions, a genuine Atlantean grimoire, penned by a powerful mage of old.

    She¡¯d gotten lucky a few years back in Chicago, and discovered it deep within the bowels of an antique bookshop, its true contents hidden to the eyes of mundanes by a minor illusion enchantment. Chloe ran her fingers over the rugged cover and breathed out a soft incantation. ¡°Revelet deus absconsa tua.¡±

    Ancient runes flared into existence upon the dried barnacle-encrusted cover, their alluring design a sort of flowing pattern, where the eye would naturally drift from one wavy symbol to the next, as if dragged by a gentle ocean current.

    Chloe cracked open the tome. She carefully began flicking through the brittle pages filled with more flowing runes and magical diagrams, and scrawled within the margins was her own rough handwriting from her meticulous attempts at translating the long-dead language.

    A minute later she found what she¡¯d been searching for. A powerful healing ritual. She scanned through the frighteningly complex spellwork, frowning.

    ¡°Wizards,¡± Chloe grumbled soon after she finished. She felt a headache beginning from merely reviewing the spell. Besides being mindbogglingly complicated, it was all so bland. So formulaic. For practitioners of the magical arts, wizards often had an uncanny knack to somehow suck the magic out of everything.

    Chloe never had that problem, not as a sorcerer. She lived and breathed magic as a natural-born mage, and unlike wizards, she didn¡¯t have to spend years painstakingly unlocking the magical potential within herself.

    However, wizards did have one advantage over sorcerers. Versatility. Sorcerers, due to their innate gifts, are often specialists within one area of magic¡ªpyromancy in Chloe¡¯s case¡ªwhile their skill in other types of magic are usually lackluster, at best.

    And unfortunately, the healing spell she needed was, as with most Atlantean magic, based on hydromancy, her innate talent¡¯s diametric opposite.

    She grabbed the nub of chalk. ¡°You can do this, Chloe.¡±

    Chloe began to carefully draw out the ritual circle on the vinyl floor around the bed, stopping only on occasion to refer back to the tome¡¯s diagrams. Next, she placed the candles and incense around the circle. Everything needed to be perfect, since she¡¯d be relying more on the formula than her talent for this.

    She snapped her fingers and all the candles were lit by a wordless cantrip, reserved only for the simplest spells. Now, the preparations were complete.

    Chloe hefted up the open tome in one hand and held her other out and over Benjamin. She glanced down at the runes upon the grimoire¡¯s pages and the phonetic translation she¡¯d written for it months ago, and cleared her throat, the magic now at her fingertips. ¡°I call¡ª¡±

    ¡°What do you think you¡¯re doing in here?¡±

    The gathering magic dissipated instantly as Chloe jumped upon hearing the demanding voice. Slowly, she lowered the grimoire and turned around, her brow furrowed.

    Standing before the doorway was a young woman in medical scrubs. In stark contrast to her rather plain attire though, the fine lines of her face were accentuated by makeup, and her long black hair was tied up in an elegant knot. It was as if she were starring in some sort of medical drama. She even radiated that intangible, eye-catching charisma befitting a movie star.

    But what Chloe found most shocking about the woman were her piercing green eyes, because they were staring right at her. Her heart racing, the teenage sorcerer sneaked a peek at the obfuscation charm pinned to her leather jacket. It was still dimly glowing.

    Chloe¡¯s gaze narrowed on the mysterious woman, the familiar wariness of someone long accustomed to being hunted creeping into her eyes. Pinned to the front of the woman¡¯s green scrubs was a name tag.

    Paige.

    ¡°You,¡± Chloe began slowly with disbelief, ¡°You can actually see me?¡±

    ¡°Of course I can see you,¡± Paige said with a no-nonsense tone. Her eyebrows knit as she noticed the candles and circle behind Chloe. ¡°Now, I asked you a question, or do I have to get security to¡ª¡±

    Chloe tossed the grimoire onto the bed behind her with a flick of her wrist and lunged forward. The woman¡¯s eyes widened as the fingers of Chloe¡¯s hand wrapped around her slender throat and shoved her against the glass door. No one heard Paige¡¯s strangled off cry as Chloe was close enough to mask her beneath the obfuscation charm.

    ¡°Sphaera Flammam Volvens!¡±

    The room¡¯s lights dimmed dramatically and a rolling orb of fire burst to life within Chloe¡¯s other hand. Its size and intensity even shocked Chloe, who was still adapting to the abundance of ambient magic she could now draw upon.

    She thrust the fireball hovering in her hand at the face of the woman in an attempt to intimidate her into submission. But the woman surprised her.

    Rather than being paralyzed by fear, Paige caught Chloe¡¯s wrist to keep the fireball at bay, and the woman¡¯s lithe figure contained a surprising strength. However, years of living on the streets had given Chloe a wiry sort of muscle that was more than a match for Paige. Chloe didn¡¯t even have to bother charging up the strength enchantments stitched into her mitts.

    ¡°Who are you working for?!¡± Chloe roared as the fireball inched closer to the woman¡¯s face. Beads of sweat broke out across Paige¡¯s brow from the flames¡¯ sweltering heat, but she continued fighting, her pale face reddening. ¡°Answer me! Did the Arcanum send you?!¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know what that is,¡± Paige said through gasping breaths.

    The fireball in Chloe¡¯s hand grew with a surge of power, its dancing flames now a hot white. ¡°Tell me the truth, or I swear I¡¯ll melt your fucking face off, bitch! How did you see through my charm?!¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m telling the truth,¡± Paige hissed. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about!¡±

    Chloe searched the woman¡¯s face for signs of deception, but all she found was genuine fear and surprise. There was no calculation. No hidden agenda. It was as if she truly were just some mundane.

    But a mundane shouldn¡¯t have been able to pierce her charm.

    Not without some incredible willpower.

    Then, as she stared into Paige¡¯s eyes, something caught Chloe¡¯s attention. There was a faint glimmer of something deep within Paige¡¯s gaze. Something magical¡ªmaybe left behind after a brush with some powerful magic, perhaps?

    Chloe squinted to get a¡ª

    A powerful roar suddenly erupted within Chloe¡¯s mind. The fireball in her hand vanished out of existence with puff of smoke as she staggered backwards, reeling. Then a fist clocked Chloe across her jaw in an explosion of pain.

    Black dots clouded her vision as she felt Paige grab her right arm. With an almost casual ease then, the woman slid a leg just behind her knee and pushed. Chloe was swept off her feet and her back slammed into the floor.

    Paige twisted her arm behind her back, and bent it into a painful angle to forcefully turn Chloe onto her belly. She felt Paige place a knee onto the small of her back as the side of her face was pressed against cool vinyl.

    Not that it mattered.

    Not now.

    She barely even registered Paige¡¯s shouts for security, or even tasted the warm blood staining her teeth. Instead, her attention was focused solely upon the smoky blue mist billowing up from the ground and curling within the air, seemingly without end. Her breathing grew ragged at the sight.

    Magic.

    So much magic.

    A blood-curdling scream shook Chloe from her stupor. Twisting her neck, she saw Paige no longer shouting for security, but rather staring intently at the room¡¯s glass door with an expression of uncertainty. Soon, more screams echoed from deeper in the hospital, and the hairs on the nape of Chloe¡¯s neck stood on end.

    Something was happening.

    Something bad.

    ¡°Let me go,¡± Chloe snapped as she began to writhe beneath Paige¡¯s unshakable grip. She didn¡¯t want to hurt the woman with her magic, but if she were left with no other options, she would. ¡°Can¡¯t you hear something far worse is going on?!¡±

    Chloe could almost see the internal struggle within Paige as she tried to decide the best course of action. The dreadful wail from the hallway beyond the door seemed to be the deciding factor. ¡°Don¡¯t try any of that weird stuff, okay?¡±

    ¡°Whatever,¡± Chloe muttered. ¡°Just get the fuck off me.¡±

    Paige seemed to bite back some choice words, but she got off Chloe regardless. She retreated a few careful steps, her hands clenched into tight fists. Just in case.

    Chloe paid her little mind as she climbed to her feet. Using her shirt sleeve then, she wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth. Her tongue prodded the busted lip she now sported.

    ¡°So are we good?¡± Paige asked.

    Chloe glowered at the woman, but nodded. ¡°We¡¯re good.¡±

    Paige let her gaze linger for a moment, as if to measure just how genuine Chloe¡¯s words were. Then she turned and slid open the door. But just as she stepped out, Paige was bowled over by a sprinting nurse and sent sprawling onto the ground with a grunt. The nurse barely even registered the collision as he picked himself up, sputtering nonsense, and continued running, his eyes filled with dread.

    Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.

    Not fear.

    Dread.

    Chloe ran over to the open doorway just as Paige got to her feet, and ran down the hallway in the opposite direction of the nurse with a shout, ¡°Dr. Dhaliwal!¡±

    She knelt down next to the writhing form of a young doctor and turned him onto his side, just as a few other level-headed staff members came to offer assistance. The doctor¡¯s back was arched and his eyes had rolled up into the back of his head, as if he were seizing. Froth bubbled from his mouth as his body jerked wildly.

    But Chloe saw something much different.

    Her awareness already tuned into the astral due to her magesight, Chloe gaped at the thick ambient magic surrounding the man. It wrapped around his thrashing body as if it were a cocoon of smoky winds.

    A phantom face condensed within the frenzied magic overlaying the doctor, struggling to break free. It¡¯s inhumanly beautiful face was marred by a pair of needle-like fangs that extended from its silently screaming maw. Then a phantom arm appeared, reaching skyward with an outstretched hand, and the doctor¡¯s arm jerked upward in unison.

    Chloe unconsciously took a step back.

    Every street-honed instinct was screaming at her to hide, to rush through the healing ritual and get out with her brother from this hellish scene, now.

    But she didn¡¯t run. Not yet. Because underneath all the cheap perfume and leather, Chloe still considered herself something of a decent human being.

    ¡°What the fuck are you doing, Chloe?¡± she muttered as she stepped through the doorway. She shoved past a couple of frantic hospital staff, hurrying to attend to other patients, to reach Paige and grabbed her shoulder. ¡°Leave him! He¡¯s beyond your help.¡±

    The woman shrugged off Chloe¡¯s hand. ¡°Stay away from¡ª¡±

    Dr. Dhaliwal¡¯s eyes snapped open. Then his pupils narrowed to reptilian slits. Paige jumped backwards in fright as the canines of the man¡¯s clenched teeth began to elongate into a pair of venomous fangs. Locked in a maddening agony, Dr. Dhaliwal began to claw at his shirt and the dusty brown skin of his chest, his fingernails tearing away flesh¡ª

    ¡ªrevealing the scales beneath.

    Her youthful face devoid of mercy, Chloe raised a hand to blast the metamorphosing doctor. But the words of power died on her lips as the spell fizzled before she¡¯d even started. There wasn¡¯t enough magic to power the spell. The good doctor had devoured all the ambient magic to jump-start his transformation. It¡¯d take a few precious seconds before the ambient magic returned to a level necessary for spellwork.

    ¡°Argh! Amateur mistake, Chloe!¡± She grabbed Paige¡¯s arm and half dragged the bewildered woman away from the doctor, cursing. ¡°Fucking amateur mistake!¡±

    Her attention flickering between the doctor and the nearing door to her brother¡¯s room, Chloe noticed Dr. Dhaliwal rolling onto his stomach. One hand slapped onto the floor as his shuddering body was wracked with pain. Clothing began to split as his muscles swelled. Teeth grit, the man raised his other hand and slammed it down before him.

    Crack!

    Vinyl tiles split beneath his palm and the fine-pointed nails he¡¯d grown. Slowly, the doctor-turned-monster hauled himself forward, his nails digging long furrows across the tiles, before slamming down his other hand. He dragged himself free of his torn clothing.

    Of his human skin.

    Behind him, Chloe saw a long serpentine tail beginning at the man¡¯s waist. Its sculptured musculature was covered in iridescent green scales that crawled up its neck and stopped to frame a monstrously beautiful and all-to-human face, while azure-tinted hair trailed down its back. The monster¡¯s body shivered then, as if finally at peace.

    A forked tongue flicked out from its mouth, tasting the air. It turned to the three cowering staff members just behind it, all frozen with fear. The light blue pants of one terrified woman darkened beneath the creature¡¯s unflinching gaze and her quivering body seemed to shrink in on itself.

    Chloe wasn¡¯t doing much better; her skin was crawling and her body felt leaden. But she didn¡¯t let the terror paralyze her. She had someone relying on her, after all. Someone that had been relying on her strength for years.

    Almost casually, the monster¡¯s tail whipped left to right with a lightning-fast speed, sweeping the entire width of the hallway. It crushed the three people against the wall as if they were bugs, and their dying bodies twitched as they slid down the walls.

    Just then Chloe reached her brother¡¯s room.

    She threw Paige inside and slammed the door shut. The clear glass door. Chloe hit the light switch off to blanket the room in near darkness and drew the thin privacy curtain across the door. The flickering flames of the candles encircling Benjamin¡¯s bed provided only the faintest illumination.

    ¡°What¡ªwhat was that thing?!¡± Paige demanded with barely restrained hysteria as she began to hyperventilate. She leaned against the wall for support as she stared at the curtain, where the screams beyond had renewed with a terrible vigor.

    ¡°Something that shouldn¡¯t exist,¡± Chloe said through her panting, just as confused. It definitely wasn¡¯t a homunculus, a sort of magical familiar for a mage. Based on how much magic it had consumed it was far too powerful for that. No, this was another type of magic.

    An ancient magic.

    And she was trapped in a hospital with it.

    Chloe ran over to the Benjamin¡¯s beside and snatched up the grimoire. She needed to work fast because, right now, her little brother was in no condition to be moved. And if that monster-that naga from Hindu mythology?-came knocking¡­

    A shiver trailed down her spine.

    ¡°Come on, come on,¡± Chloe muttered as she frantically leafed through the tome¡¯s fragile pages, searching for the ritual once more and ignoring Paige¡¯s questioning looks. ¡°Come on. Where the fuck are you? It should be right around¡ª¡±

    There!

    Chloe¡¯s eyes lit up as she found a familiar set of designs and runes. She scanned through the page once to be certain, which only confirmed this was the right spell. This time, Chloe made sure to check the ambient magic. The air was oversaturated with it.

    Fuckin¡¯ A.

    ¡°Okay, now just take a deep breath, Chloe,¡± she said nervously. ¡°You can do this. It¡¯s just a little hydromancy, no big deal.¡± She wiped away the sweat upon her brow before extending her hand, fingers splayed. Then her gaze fell to the open tome in her other hand.

    It suddenly all seemed much more complicated. The pressure of a monster literally lurking around the corner certainly didn¡¯t help much either.

    But Chloe cleared her throat and began the ritual¡¯s incantation, her voice becoming as deep as the bottomless depths of the ocean. ¡°I call upon the flowing spirits of the sea¡ª¡±

    The candles flickered as the ambient magic began to pool above the circle, a howling vortex. Chloe could just barely control it. Alarms blared from the hospital machinery beside the bed now going haywire from the magical interference. And for the first time tonight, Benjamin¡¯s body began to twitch.

    Shouting, but her words lost in the din, Paige ran up to the bed as if to stabilize her patient, but she was pushed back by the invisible buffer of the circle. The woman slid backwards on her feet, her hands thrown up before her as magical winds tore at her.

    ¡°¡ªUpon the boundless water that stretches into the horizon, to heed my summons. I beseech  the great spirits¡ª¡±

    Her outstretched hand began to tremble and her throat was becoming raw from the words of power. But Chloe continued the incantation, struggling. The healing runes drawn within the circle began to glow as the magic continued to pour in.

    Crunch!

    The privacy curtain drawn over the door swayed.

    Something was trying to get in.

    ¡°¡ªTo aid me in my hour of need, to let their healing waters¡ª¡±

    A powerful hit bashed into the door¡¯s anti-shatter glass again, and the upper corner of the sliding door was broken off its tracks, falling into the room and taking down part of the curtain.

    Across the bed, and through the cracked glass of the door, Chloe saw the towering figure of a naga, propped up on its coiled tail and its scaled torso dyed in blood. The cold-blooded monster eyed the dark interior with a sadistic grin, as if it could easily spot its prey inside.

    Paige stared at her former boss in shock. ¡°Dr. Dhaliwal¡­¡±

    The naga slid forward, one hand gripping the upper edge of the doorway and the other latched onto the broken-in corner of the door itself. Then it began to push inward. The groaning metal of the door began to warp beneath the naga¡¯s overwhelming strength.

    Her voice nearly hoarse and her mind going fuzzy from commanding so much magic, Chloe roared out the last part of the incantation. ¡°¡ªSoothe my mortal pains and nurture this frail vessel!¡±

    A thunderclap of magic threw Chloe into the wall behind her as the full power of the circle funneled into Benjamin¡¯s jerking body.

    The door broke down completely with the screeching snap of metal. Paige backpedaled away from the monster, her back pressed to the side wall, as it slithered into the room, its human half framed by the flickering light of the hallway behind it.

    Blood trailed down from Chloe¡¯s nose, and she only succeeded in smearing it across her upper lip when she tried to wipe it away. Behind her eyes was the sharp pain of a migraine¡ªjust another toll of the hydromancy.

    But worst of all was the state of the ambient magic.

    The room was bone-dry.

    The naga stared at Benjamin, who lay unmoving on the bed between Chloe and the monster. His wounds¡ªor lack thereof¡ªwere still hidden beneath the copious amounts of bandages wrapped around his body. ¡°Hmm,¡± the naga¡¯s silken voice came out as a breathy melody. ¡°The strangely familiar power that called out to me, it¡¯s gone.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s called magic,¡± Chloe venomously spat. ¡°Here, how about a little taste!?¡±

    And then, Chloe did something no sane mage would ever think about doing. She tapped into her inner spark of magic, a mage¡¯s last resort¡ªoften permanently. Because if a mage¡¯s inner spark of magic was used up completely, she¡¯d burn out.

    She¡¯d become a mundane.

    Forever.

    But with no ambient magic to draw upon and a snake monster bearing down on her, Chloe didn¡¯t care anymore. Better to be alive and burnt out than dead and, well, dead.

    So Chloe threw up her arm and screamed out an incantation. ¡°Columna Ignis!¡± A roaring torrent of fire poured from her hand, its power and intensity far beyond anything she¡¯d conjured up before. Immediately, though, a bone-aching weariness washed over Chloe as she expended the precious magic of her spark.

    Hissing, the naga reared back, its arms crossed defensively before it. The scales of its forearms began to glow orange beneath the fiery onslaught. Its tail blindly whipped forward to smash into Benjamin¡¯s bed and send it skittering towards Chloe. It crashed into her before she could even react, shattering her concentration so the spell died instantly.

    Weakly, Chloe clutched at the bed railing digging painfully into her gut as she gasped for air. She raised her head just in time to see Paige quietly slipping out of the room, using Chloe¡¯s firework display as a distraction. She was running, and leaving her and Benjamin to die, even after Chloe saved her ass. ¡°Ungrateful bitch¡­¡±

    Chloe swung her stare towards the naga. That inner spark of magic within her, once a raging bonfire, had dwindled to a dull fire. She¡¯d have just enough juice for one more spell, at most. Anymore and she¡¯d burn out.

    The naga quickly slithered deeper inside and its massive length filled the room. Her voice still raw, Chloe began to croak out a new incantation. ¡°Flatus¡ª¡±

    The naga roughly snatched Chloe by her throat and choked the words off. Then it lifted her up against the wall, pinning her to it as her kicking legs dangled. The cold black eyes of a reptile studied her with a hint of curiosity. ¡°Interesting,¡± it breathed out. ¡°That was the magic you mentioned, no?¡±

    Chloe could only garble out a curse in response.

    ¡°Let¡¯s see,¡± the naga continued. It raised its other hand, palm up. Then, drawing upon the minuscule ambient magic that had been replenished after the ritual, a marble-sized orb of water appeared within the needle-sharp nails of its curled fingers.

    A delighted smile split across the naga¡¯s face as if it¡¯d discovered a new toy. But then the naga snapped its head towards the rapid footfalls of someone sprinting from behind it. The rounded bottom of a heavy fire extinguisher bashed into its surprised face with a sickening crunch.

    The naga reeled back with a hiss and dropped Chloe, who began a hacking fit as she gulped down air. The monster¡¯s hand pawed at its once flawless face as it tried to stem the blood gushing from its broken nose. A hateful rage ignited within the naga¡¯s cold gaze and its lips, wet with its own blood, peeled back to reveal its fangs.

    Her pale face flushed, Paige ripped the pin from the fire extinguisher and gave the naga a mouthful of fire-smothering powder. ¡°Run!¡± she screamed at Chloe as the now-blinded naga tried to swat away the annoying powder stream. ¡°Get out of¡ª¡±

    The naga¡¯s tail viciously swept across the room, knocking aside hospital machinery and furniture as if it were trash, and crushed Paige into the wall. She spat out a mist of blood before slumping onto the floor, unmoving.

    The strengthening enchantments stitched into the worn leather of Chloe¡¯s mitts began to dimly glow as she channeled more magic from her spark into them. She kicked off the wall with the hissing snarl of an alley cat, leaping clear across Benjamin¡¯s bed and onto the distracted naga¡¯s back.

    Her left arm looped around the naga¡¯s throat to secure her in place. Sharp nails raked across Chloe¡¯s back as the naga attempted to buck and rip her off, but she clung on stubbornly, the flare of quickly weakening protective enchantments on her jacket negating the damage. For now.

    The scrambling fingers of Chloe¡¯s free hand entangled themselves in the naga¡¯s flowing azure hair, and then she viciously tugged down with her enhanced strength. The naga¡¯s head snapped back so its powdered face was directed at the ceiling.

    The naga¡¯s eyes lit up when it saw Chloe¡¯s face above it, close enough for a kiss. The monster¡¯s mouth opened to speak just as Chloe whispered an incantation with the last bit of magic at her disposal. ¡°Flatus Draco¡­¡±

    Then Chloe inhaled in deeply and breathed out a blindingly bright stream of pure fire down the naga¡¯s throat. Its unearthly blaze was hot enough to shine brightly even beneath the naga¡¯s skin as it poured into the monster¡¯s belly.

    Chloe fell from the naga when the spell finally cut out, her magic and body thoroughly exhausted, and hit the ground in an awkward tumble.

    The naga swayed slightly for a moment. Then it too fell forward with a heavy crash. A cloud of black smoke poured from its mouth as the naga wheezed out its last breath.

    ¡°Yeah,¡± Chloe growled. She drunkenly wobbled onto her feet as she glared at the dead naga. ¡°How¡¯d you¡ªhow¡¯d you like that? The first lesson in magic, motherfucker, is that it¡¯s fucking dangerous.¡± Her knees buckled then and she collapsed onto an overturned cabinet, panting.

    A feeble voice called out then. ¡°Chloe?¡± Sitting up in the bed was Benjamin. He pawed at the thick bandages covering his eyes without much luck, his breathing tubes already removed.

    ¡°Benjamin!¡± Chloe lurched over to her brother¡¯s bedside with tears in her eyes. She grabbed his grasping hand. ¡°I¡¯m here, Benji. I¡¯m right here. Hold still and I¡¯ll get these dressings off.¡±

    Her tired fingers fumbled with the bandages as she began to unwind them, starting with his head. Brown tufts of hair spilled out, and then Chloe saw the healthy pink of newly healed skin. She couldn¡¯t help but chuckle in joyous relief and hugging him tightly.

    Benjamin blinked as his eyes adjusted to the room¡¯s darkness. Then his mouth became a large ¡®O¡¯ as he took in his surroundings, from the wreckage of his room to the massive bulk of the dead naga. ¡°What happened here?¡±

    ¡°I don¡¯t know. Whatever it is though, it¡¯s big.¡± Chilling screams continued to echo throughout the hospital, both human and inhuman now. ¡°Come on,¡± Chloe said anxiously as she hooked her arms underneath Benjamin¡¯s armpits to set him on the ground. ¡°We¡¯ve got to get out of this place, quickly. Can you walk?¡±

    ¡°My legs are a bit wobbly.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s good enough. But first.¡± She snatched up her bag still on the bed, and then pulled out a balled up wad of tatty clothes that she tossed to Benjamin. ¡°Put these on. It¡¯s not much, but I stitched in some basic enchantments on them. They¡¯ll do until I get us someplace safe.¡±

    Benjamin began to put on the clothes over his bandage-swaddled body without complaint, only studying them for a moment to check their size rather than their quality. Once he was dressed, Chloe grabbed her brother¡¯s hand and began to lead him out of the one, one side of her body pressed against the wall as a support for her current weakened state.

    But then she heard a raspy gasp. Her back propped up against the opposite wall, Paige¡¯s chest slightly rose as she struggled to breath, clinging to life by a thread. Blood drooled from her mouth.

    ¡°Sis,¡± Benjamin¡¯s hand tightened around her fingers, ¡°That lady¡¯s still alive.¡±

    Chloe bit her bottom lip as she listened to a world falling apart at the seams, torn. She could hear the wailing of people dying throughout the hospital, and if she stayed any longer, she could be risking Benjamin¡¯s safety.

    But, the woman had come back.

    She¡¯d given Chloe the chance to beat the naga.

    To save Benjamin.

    ¡°Fuck!¡± Chloe smacked a balled fist against the wall in frustration. But then she began to hobble over to the dying woman, ignoring the chaos erupting around her. ¡°Benji, help me get her in the circle. We don¡¯t have much time.¡±

 Chapter Five

    Here''s the latest chapter. Had a long holiday weekend working on it.

    Also, I''d like to ask you guys something regarding one of the review''s for this fiction. Mainly about the synopsis. Do you guy think I should try to update it? Is it good as is? Do you think it requires some more depth to capture the actual story? Anyways, thanks for the advice and comments!

    <hr />

    Of Monsters and men

    Chapter Five

    In RPGs, you know how one of the best parts is often looting the bodies for cool, new gear? You just click on the corpse and a nifty little pop-up screen appears with what you find. Well, reality is far more ghoulish I found out.

    My nose crinkled as I rooted in the pocket of some guy¡¯s lower half. That¡¯s right, I said lower half. The man¡¯s upper body was nowhere to be found, and I wasn¡¯t exactly interested in searching for it.

    Thankfully, I soon felt the rectangular shape of a smartphone within.

    I wiggled the phone free. Standing up, I wiped the sticky blood off the scratched up screen with the last clean edge of my torn, bloodied shirt. Then my thumb pressed the phone¡¯s home button. It hesitantly flickered on¡ª

    ¡ªand died.

    That was the fourth cellphone that had died almost as soon as I¡¯d touched it. The fourth-fucking-one! ¡°Fuck!¡± I flung the phone away in disgust, and it smashed into the nearby stereo player, killing the stilted music that I¡¯d been tuning out since the fight.

    A cold gust blew in through the shattered balcony door, and I heard the staccato of distant gunfire carried on the wind, as if a war had broken out.

    Some part of me was still hoping this was all just some fucked up nightmare, that I was still stooped over the toilet, unconscious and dreaming. But, deep in my gut, I knew this wasn¡¯t some crazy dream.

    The world had gone mad.

    And somewhere in the heart of that madness was Paige, alone. Just the thought that she could be trying to call me at this very moment, desperate for help, set my teeth on edge and made me want to throttle something.

    Anything.

    Yet try as I might, each cellphone I managed to find strangely died on me, as if my very touch were anathema. Even the apartment¡¯s landline had blared out a sputtering, ear-piercing screech of a dial tone before cutting out on me.

    My hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. But when I focused my smoldering gaze on the blaze lighting up the winter night, framed quite perfectly in the shattered glass doorway, I began to calm. Because I could feel Paige out there, somewhere, and I knew it wasn¡¯t just wishful thinking.

    This was different.

    It was as if we¡¯d been connected on a level beyond the physical. Beyond the rational. Now, I wouldn¡¯t describe this strange connection as sappy as two people sharing one soul, but it felt as if Paige held within her a fragment of, well, me.

    Fuck¡ªit sounded insane, but just a short time ago, fighting a real-life troll would¡¯ve sounded just as crazy. So, I was pretty open-minded at the moment.

    Feeling a bit stupid, and not quite sure if this would even work, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on my connection to Paige. To follow the invisible thread tethering her to me.

    Only dimly aware of my physical body, my mind trailed after the connection, following it into the city until I suddenly ran up against some sort of resistance, as if to prevent me from finding Paige. My teeth ground together as I pressed on.

    Flashes. Fragments of emotions¡ªof surprise and of terror¡ªfiltered into my mind, rapid-fire. Then distorted and jumbled scenes, taken from Paige¡¯s perspective, flashed before my mind¡¯s eye as I continued to struggle through the mounting mental pressure.

    Monsters surrounded her.

    Monsters and fire.

    A face appeared, then, amidst the monsters with Paige. A woman¡¯s face. She was young, maybe eighteen or nineteen, with a pixie cut of red hair, and her lips were drawn back to reveal a blood-stained snarl of a grin.

    A groan escaped from between my lips as my mind began to buckle beneath the crushing pressure of an invisible force, and blood flowed freely from my nose.

    ¡°Arrgah!¡± I reluctantly withdrew from my connection to Paige, and shot back into my battered and bruised body, where I collapsed onto a knee, with one hand pressed against my throbbing temple.

    A few stretched-out moments passed as I just breathed.

    In and out.

    Soon, the pulsing within my skull began to lessen, and my breathing became less haggard. I wiped the blood away that had drenched my upper lip and spat out what little had seeped into my mouth. However, an excitement filled my eyes now. ¡°It worked,¡± I said with a laugh, mystified. ¡°It actually fucking worked.¡±

    I¡¯d felt Paige¡¯s general direction through our strengthened connection, though her exact location remained hidden from me by that strange resistance.

    ¡°Don¡¯t you worry, Sweet Pea,¡± I murmured with a steely resolve in my voice. Climbing to my feet, I picked up the sword and shield I¡¯d laid on the ground during my looting spree. ¡°I¡¯m coming to find you.¡±

    And not even a city of monsters was going to stop me.

    But first, I needed to patch myself up.

    I stalked back into the kitchen, towards the refrigerator door embedded into the sink wall. Crouching down, and tucking the sword flat under my armpit, my fingers wrapped around the glass neck of a whiskey bottle that had managed, somehow, to remain stuck on the door¡¯s shelf.

    The clear amber liquid sloshed within the bottle as my bruised body hobbled into the bathroom, where the single light fixture above continued to flicker uncertainly. The whiskey bottle clicked sharply against the bathroom¡¯s marble counter when I put it down. Then I laid down the shield and sword in a nearby corner.

    Above the sink was an oval mirror, and a familiar face stared back at me from its silvery surface¡ªdeep set eyes an alluring dark green; a five o¡¯clock shadow of auburn whiskers; and high cheekbones that radiated a noble and dignified air.

    I was still the same ol¡¯ devilishly handsome Fitz.

    Or was I?

    An expression of doubt appeared on my face when a chilling question, one I¡¯d been trying to ignore, prodded at the back of my mind yet again. What if Cole wasn¡¯t the only monster that had been born at this party tonight?

    What else could explain how powerful I felt?

    How I could crush a phone in my bare hands with ease?

    A few scratches and cuts marred my features, but I wasn¡¯t sporting any curling horns jutting out from my skull, nor the wart-ridden hide of a troll. Unsatisfied though, I leaned closer and pushed back my upper lip as I examined my teeth.

    Nope.

    No fangs either.

    But, I was different now. I could feel it beneath my very skin, in the invigorating strength flowing through my limbs. So what, then, could turn a good man like Cole into an unrepentant monster and me into a¡ª

    ¡ªa what?

    I still felt the same, personality-wise, and I didn¡¯t have a newfound hankering for human flesh either, which was good. So then what was I? Superhuman? Fitz v2.0, perhaps? Or how about¡ª

    No.

    This wasn¡¯t the time for wild speculation.

    All that matters right now is getting to Paige.

    I tugged the mirror open to reveal the compartment behind it, which was full of medications, perfumes, toothpastes¡ªpretty much all the normal stuff one would expect to find in a bathroom cabinet. Inside, I also found a small first aid kit.

    Jack-fucking-pot.

    I took the first aid kit and put it on the counter. Then I began to unbutton my torn up shirt and carefully peeled the bloodied thing off my skin. Once I¡¯d finally gotten it off, I tossed the bloodied bundle into the corner.

    My fingers delicately probed the torn flesh of my chest as I examined my wounds in the mirror. Three ragged lines cut across my chest, from shoulder to hip, and dark blood had already begun to crust along their edges. Thankfully, they didn¡¯t appear to be that deep.

    I turned to get a look at my left shoulder next, from where I¡¯d pulled a shard of chinaware out of my back. A trail of half-dried blood ran down my back from the wound, and I winced when my fingers brushed against it.

    Okay.

    So, I¡¯m not in what I¡¯d call ¡®tip-top shape¡¯ at the moment, and my body may have sprung a few leaks, but it was nothing a little thread and duct tape shouldn¡¯t be able to fix. Duct tape can fix anything, after all.

    I twisted the handle of the faucet to wash off my hands, and for some clean water to wash out my wounds. A small amount of water sputtered out as a gurgling groan echoed from the plumbing. I sighed in disgust. ¡°Guess I¡¯m doing this the hard way.¡±

    I grabbed the whiskey bottle and took a nip. The small swig of whiskey burned a trail of fire down my throat, and blunted the edge of pain radiating from my wounds. Well, here goes nothing. I took a deep breath, and then I poured the whiskey down my chest and back.

    A fiery agony seeped into my wounds, cleansing them, as the whiskey ran down my hunched over body. My muscles began to involuntarily spasm. ¡°God¡­¡±

    Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.

    My hand tightened on the lip of the sink, and my eyes squeezed shut as I tried to block out the pain, to focus on anything else. The next word hissed out from between my clenched teeth. ¡°Fucking¡­¡±

    Crunch. Cracks webbed out in the marble from where I had my grip. But then it subsided and I shakily breathed out in relief. ¡°Damn it¡­¡±

    I snatched up a nearby wash towel from a wall rung to pat myself down, and then I gently wiped away the dried blood and grime. My pain-addled fingers fumbled the first aid kit open, and I took out a small spool and needle. I took another nip of whiskey to calm my nerves and steady my hand. ¡°Alright. Now for the hard part.¡±

    Slowly, I began to stitch myself up, knitting my flesh together. Each stinging jab of the needle made my jaw tighten, and cold beads of sweat dripped down my brow, but I endured the pain in a stoic silence.

    After what felt like an eternity, but was closer to around fifteen minutes, I finally finished and tied off the thread. My body slumped against the counter as I released a pent up breath. I fished out a roll of gauze from the first aid kit and eyed the thin medical tape distastefully.

    I¡¯d definitely need duct tape, especially if I had to run the gauntlet of a city gone mad. It was tough, durable, and it¡¯d take a lot to come free. So after a bit of scrounging within the apartment¡¯s cabinets, I managed to find some, along with one of Cole¡¯s shirts and my own coat to replace the bloody rags I¡¯d already discarded.

    Using my teeth, I tore off a few long strips of the gray tape and laid them over the gauze covering my wounds with all the expertise of a redneck doctor. I made sure to do the same for my shoulder until half of my torso seemed to be tape up.

    Then, before donning my coat, I shrugged into the dark red dress shirt I¡¯d taken from Cole¡¯s closet. It was around two sizes too big for me, but it¡¯d suffice.

    Now dressed, I couldn¡¯t help but eye the sword and shield propped up in the corner of the bathroom, a rather ridiculous combo in today¡¯s modern era. But, I did just kill a fucking troll, so ¡®ridiculous¡¯ might¡¯ve been too strong of a word.

    Besides, it¡¯s not as if I had many other options in lieu of an actual gun. Cole had been a collector of many things, but guns¡ªantique or modern¡ªwasn¡¯t one of them. So I took up the sword and the kite shield once more.

    Sickly green troll blood, now beginning to dry, still coated the naked blade of my ancestral sword. I wiped it clean with the blood-soaked wash towel I¡¯d used earlier, revealing the cold iron beneath. I gave the weapon a test twirl, and I was once again struck by how right the weapon felt in my hand, like it¡¯d always belonged there.

    But though it felt light, similar to a feather in my grasp, it also seemed to hold an unfathomable heaviness, as if it contained the suffocating weight of a mountain. And when the flickering light danced along the blade¡¯s mesmerizing length¡ª

    I blinked and snapped out of my trance.

    In my hand, the blade now just seemed like any other sword. Not bizarrely light or heavy. Just a simple, old sword. However, an unsettling feeling still remained as my gaze lingered on the naked blade. Probably best to find its sheath, I decided, as I tried to shrug off the experience.

    Finding it wasn¡¯t hard. The sheath was right where I expected it to be¡ªinside the main room, amidst crushed presents and beneath the splintery remains of the oaken box it¡¯d been originally resting in. The tip of my shoe nudged aside the wooden fragments, revealing a leather back sheath.

    Affixing the sheath to my back, and over my coat, I tightened its straps until I reached a comfortable balance between being able to breathe and not having the sheath bounce around too freely. Then, after a few awkward misses, I slid the sword inside.

    As for the shield¡­

    I found a thick scarf hanging from a wall rack near the door. It was among a collection of jackets, hats, and other winter garments lining the wall, all left behind and forgotten in the panicked escape.

    Looping it through the shield¡¯s handle, I tied its ends together in a tight knot, and slipped it over my head and under my arm, so that the kite shield rested snug on my back. Then I snatched up the set of keys hanging from one of the rack¡¯s smaller prongs.

    Cole¡¯s keys.

    He should have a couple of cars in the apartment¡¯s basement garage.

    With a grunt, I fully pulled open the ajar apartment door, and swept aside the mangled bodies that had been blocking it. I stepped into the hallway then, one hand over my shoulder, my fingers wrapped around the sword¡¯s grip.

    Above me, the grating buzz of fluorescent lights struggled to stay on, but other than that it was eerily silent. Only the muffled rapport of gunfire from outside, and the occasional screech of tires or sirens pierced the quiet.

    Faint impressions of bloody shoeprints stained the once pristine carpeting of the hall, as if a stampede of people had trampled over others in their mad dash to safety.

    Based on all the signs, ranging from scattered personal effects to the gory smears of handprints painted on the stairwell door, most of the horrified party-goers had gone for the stairs, situated right next to the closed steel doors of the elevator. A smart choice given how erratic the power was at the moment.

    Padding over, I pressed an ear to the stairwell door. Nothing. It was as quiet as a graveyard. However, I still unsheathed my sword and held it at the ready. The door softly clicked open when I pressed on the latch, and I slid inside without a sound, my eyes scanning the area for danger.

    Still nothing.

    Human or inhuman.

    My footsteps noisily echoed in the stairwell as I went to peer over this landing¡¯s rail, first below me then to the few floors above me, searching for anything¡­odd. Or, you know, for anything that potentially wants to eat me and use my bones as toothpicks. Either-or works for me, honestly.

    Seemingly alone, I began my wary descent.

    Upon the eighth landing, however, something caught my attention. A crumpled body. She was twisted around so her glazed stare pointed above, and a pool of congealed blood surrounded her head, where she¡¯d obviously cracked her skull against the polished concrete landing.

    I knew her. Not personally, but I was sure we had exchanged names sometime during the party. What was it again? I began to wrack my brain for her name, sorting through the hazy fragments of my recent memory. It definitely started with an ¡®A¡¯. Could it have been Annie? No. Not that.

    Annabel.

    Right.

    I knelt beside Annabel, noticing her twisted ankle and the broken heel of one of her designer shoes, the reason for her fatal tumble. Just to be sure, I pressed a couple of fingers to the cool skin of her throat.

    Nothing.

    ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± I said before closing her eyes. It was all I could do for her right now. I rose with a heavy sigh, and sparing the dead woman one last glance, I continued down the stairs, my footsteps just a bit heavier and my mood even more sour.

    Finally, I reach the first level. The lobby. This stairwell apparently didn¡¯t go to the basement garage directly, but I was almost certain that the lobby had a connecting stairwell that did. I pressed my ear against the thick door, its steel surface cool upon my cheek, and listened. Wait¡­

    My eyes narrowed in concentration as my senses sharpened. Were those voices? Slowly, I cracked the door open to not alert whoever was talking and peeked inside.

    Devastation.

    That was the word that came to mind when I saw the inside of the lobby. The front glass doors had been blasted open, littering the area with glass shards, and allowing the frigid night air to blow in swirling gusts laden with snow. And amongst the devastation were broken bodies.

    More party-goers, I guessed.

    From behind the front desk came the voices I¡¯d heard through the door. They belonged to the movie streaming on the desk manager¡¯s computer, which dangled from a cable over the desk¡¯s edge, its cracked screen painted with a thin veil of blood.

    But other than that, no one was present.

    I stepped inside.

    Crunch.

    My sensitive ears pricked up when I heard a soft whimper in response to the glass crunching beneath my shoes. It came from behind the front desk.

    Taking hold of the initiative, and deciding it was better to act than react, I broke out into a sprint. One moment I was standing as still as a statue, and the next I become a blur, the pain of my wounds all but forgotten. With an almost alarming ease, I leapt clear over the desk and fell into a crouch, brandishing my sword as I turned.

    A strangled scream erupted, as if from a hog on the butcher¡¯s block, and then a large shadow dove out from under the desk, charging at me. The light of the desk lamp flashed off something metallic in one of its fists.

    My free hand snaked out, taking hold of a fistful of fabric and twisting it tight for leverage. I shifted the shadow¡¯s momentum past me, pulling it forward by its shirt, and slammed its back into the wall. My sword¡¯s raised tip scratched at its quivering jowls, ready to plunge into its throat.

    ¡°Wa¡ªwait!¡± the man begged. The desk manager¡¯s face was ruddy and slick with a nervous sweat, his bulging eyes locked on the sword at his throat. ¡°Please! I thought¡ªI thought you were one of those things!¡±

    But I barely heard him. Instead my attention was glued to the metallic object hanging loosely in his hand with the threat of death hovering literally inches away.

    ¡°Did you,¡± I began with awed incredulity, raising my eyes to match his pleading gaze, ¡°Did you just try to attack me with a stapler?¡±

 Chapter Six

    Hey guys! Hope you enjoy this latest chapter. I''ve got a long car trip I''m taking for the holidays, so I''m probably going to get a lot more time to push out the next chapter a bit faster (though I don''t know how reliable my internet connection will at the place I''m heading to). So buckle up, guys, because next chapter should give you a big hint/taste of just what Fitz has become in this brave, new world.

    Also, if you find any typos/mistakes, please point them out so I can eliminate those pesky things. Thanks!

    <hr />

    Of Monsters and men

    Chapter Six

    ¡°What?¡± the desk manager asked shakily. The stench of terror hung about him as he quivered within my grasp like jelly, and dark pit stains discolored the jolly red shirt and tailored evergreen vest stretched taut across his paunch.

    ¡°Did you,¡± I repeated slowly, ¡°just try to attack me with a stapler?¡± My gaze turned pointedly to the man¡¯s hands, both upraised as if to show me he meant no harm, and the subject of our conversation.

    The desk manager didn¡¯t dare to move even a muscle, not with my sword close enough to shave the whiskers of the neatly trimmed beard masking his surprisingly youthful face. Instead, with his chin held high to avoid my blade¡¯s cool touch, the manager¡¯s eyes darted to his clenched fist.

    The stapler fell from the man¡¯s numb fingers and clattered onto the ground. ¡°Please, you have to understand. I wasn¡¯t¡ª¡± He swallowed audibly, struggling to speak. ¡°I thought you were one of those things. If I¡¯d known you were human, I would¡¯ve never¡ªnever¡ªtried to attack you. It was just self-defense, I swear.¡±

    ¡°Good, good,¡± I drawled while nodding. ¡°Knowing that you mistakenly tried to bludgeon me to death is very reassuring. But more importantly, why a stapler?¡±

    The heavyset man blinked at the question. But then a slow realization crept across his face and his cheeks immediately flushed. ¡°There wasn¡¯t anything else around,¡± he sputtered defensively.

    Fair point.

    Not everyone has the luxury, or the luck of ancestral swords and antique shields just laying around for an apocalyptic monster invasion. Besides, didn¡¯t I have a somewhat recent experience involving a troll, and a pair of plaid socks?

    Yeah¡­

    ¡°Hey, do you¡ªdo you think you could maybe lower your sword?¡± The desk manager¡¯s Adam¡¯s apple bobbed up and down as he stuttered out the request, but he made no move to push aside the offending weapon.

    ¡°That depends.¡±

    ¡°On what?¡± the man asked cautiously.

    ¡°You got any other staplers or office supplies I need to worry about?¡±

    The man seemed at a loss for words, his mouth opening and closing, as if he were a fish drinking in water, before he finally managed an uncertain, ¡°No?¡±

    ¡°Good.¡± Grinning sheepishly, I slid my sword into its sheath¡ªafter two tries¡ªand released the fabric of the man¡¯s shirt clenched in my other fist.

    Collapsing against the wall in a slouch, the man seemed to deflate as he puffed out a relieved breath. His hand wiped away the stinging sweat dripping into his bloodshot eyes.

    ¡°Sorry about all that. Here, let me just¡­¡± I awkwardly tried to straighten up the man¡¯s rumpled uniform after my rough handling. But at the sound of crunching snow from outside, beyond the shattered windows, the desk manager lunged forward and grabbed my arm. He pulled me down behind the desk, then, so we were out of sight.

    The man poked his head out, like a paranoid prairie dog from its burrow, but ducked back down when a few humanoid shadows darted past the windows, their features completely hidden by the swirling snows of a worsening blizzard and the flickering street lamp.

    ¡°See anything?¡±

    ¡°Keep your voice down,¡± the man warned with a hissing whisper, his round face returning to its original ghostly pallor. He peeked around the corner of the desk, as if worried something might¡¯ve heard us. But after a few uneventful seconds he withdrew, releasing a pent up breath. ¡°I think we¡¯re safe. For now.¡±

    But the desk manager flinched as a cacophony of automatic gunfire¡ªfrom not one, but multiple weapons¡ªsuddenly erupted from somewhere outside, maybe a few blocks away.

    ¡°Those gunshots started about half an hour ago,¡± the man whispered as he moved up next to me, still crouched. He warily eyed the wintry night beyond the lobby. ¡°Sounds like there¡¯s a war going on out there.¡±

    ¡°Do you know when they first started appearing?¡± I asked, ignoring his comment. The ¡®they¡¯ I was referring to was obvious, and the desk manager¡¯s knowing gaze met my own.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± the desk manager muttered. ¡°An hour ago? Checking the time wasn¡¯t exactly on the list of my priorities when the freaking apocalypse happened.¡± But he dipped a couple of fingers into his vest¡¯s pocket and took out a phone.

    It¡¯s screen illuminated and my eyes lit up.

    ¡°Your phone still works?¡± My question was more of a statement as I saw the current time¡ª11:46¡ªdisplayed across the phone¡¯s glitching home screen, and I needed to resist the urge to snatch it out of his hands. ¡°Can you make any calls?¡±

    The man shook his head sadly. ¡°No such luck. Believe me, I¡¯ve been trying since all this¡­stuff started. It¡¯s as if the entire network is down, not to mention that something seems to be messing with my phone itself.¡±

    Well, that was just fan-fucking-tastic.

    My original plan was still on then.

    Glancing over my shoulder, I saw a nearby door bearing a stairwell placard. Above it were the words ¡®Garage Access¡¯ painted in white. ¡°You¡¯re not thinking about going out there, are you?¡± the desk manager asked when he noticed me eying the exit.

    ¡°What¡¯s the alternative? Staying here?¡±

    ¡°Yes!¡± the man whispered vehemently¡ªanxiously¡ªas if he didn¡¯t want to be left all alone again. ¡°The smart thing to do would be to stay here where its safe until help arrives.¡±

    ¡°¡¯Safe?¡¯¡± I repeated sarcastically. The howling wind blew through the open windows just at that moment, as if to accentuate my point, and causing the man to shiver. ¡°Listen. You go ahead and do what you want. As for me though, I¡¯ve got places to go and people to meet.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s suicide to go outside,¡± the man tried one last time with a touch of desperation in his voice. ¡°I¡¯ve seen what¡¯s out there. I¡¯ve seen them, and what they¡¯re capable of. You won¡¯t last long out there. Not alone.¡±

    ¡°You can come along,¡± I offered.

    ¡°To die?¡± he asked with a grim chuckle. ¡°No thanks. It¡¯s smarter to just sit tight and wait until the police arrive to evacuate us. Trust me.¡±

    ¡°The police?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Those guys can¡¯t handle this shit. Dude, I¡¯m pretty sure I saw an honest-to-God dragon flying over the downtown area. A fucking dragon. You know, those big scary lizards that can probably piss out napalm. You think underpaid civil servants are equipped to deal with that?¡±

    ¡°Then the military¡ª¡±

    ¡°¡ªwill be covering their own asses first,¡± I finished for him. ¡°Most likely, they¡¯ll be bunkering down until they can figure out what the fuck is going on.¡± Not to mention it was a major holiday, meaning only essential personnel were probably active on the near-deserted military bases; so they¡¯d be scrambling even more.

    Hearing my reasoning, then, the desk manager seemed torn. But as the cogs of his mind turned, he finally¡ªreluctantly¡ªnodded. ¡°Damnit, you¡¯re right,¡± he bemoaned, none too pleased at the thought trekking off into the night.

    ¡°So,¡± I extended my hand, ¡°Partners?¡±

    ¡°I¡­guess so.¡± He reached out to engulf my hand between his clammy palms.  ¡°My name¡¯s Gary, by the way. Gary Turner.¡±

    ¡°Fitzroy,¡± I offered in return before pulling back my hand. An uncomfortably cold and sticky sweat slathered my hand, and I had to resist the urge to wipe it away on my pants. ¡°But my friends call me Fitz.¡±

    Gary nodded and then got right to the point. ¡°So you¡¯ve got a car, right?¡±

    I took out the keys and spun them around on my index finger, the movement causing a light jangle. My hand snapped shut around the keys as they smacked into my palm. ¡°What do you think?¡±

    Gary forced out a slight smile. ¡°Good. We should definitely grab some quick supplies then. Food and drinks and whatever else might be important.¡±

    ¡°Ah, yeah, those would be good things to get,¡± I agreed with a self-deprecating titter. I¡¯d totally forgotten about those little, but important details in my grand plan to find Paige. Definitely a bit of an oversight¡­

    ¡°Don¡¯t worry,¡± Gary said. ¡°There¡¯s a side room connected to this lobby with a few vending machines. We should be able to get some supplies from there.¡±

    Still crouched, he awkwardly waddled over to the leg space of the front desk, reaching inside to pull out an unzipped backpack. Inside I saw a silver thermos and a brown paper bag, along with a couple of spiral notebooks.

    He slung one of the straps over his shoulder and glanced outside, peering through the hazy snowfall, to make sure everything was clear. Then he shuffled to the side alcove he¡¯d mentioned, giving a very wide berth to the bodies on the ground, and waved for me to quickly follow.

    Together, we entered a small room, where a few vending machines lined the wall. Their well-stocked interiors were illuminated by an unsteady glow, and Gary waddled up to one with an obvious familiarity. Unslinging his backpack and putting it down, he began to root around within and pulled out a ziplock bag nearly bursting with loose change.

    ¡°Keep watch while I handle this,¡± Gary said as he slipped a nickel¡ªnot even a fucking quarter¡ªinto the snack machine.

    The apocalypse had arrived, and I¡¯d found the one man willing to still count out the dimes and nickels for a candy bar. I was stunned. No actually, that didn¡¯t even come close to describing how I felt. Instead, I¡¯d use the word ¡®gobsmacked¡¯.

    That¡¯s right.

    I was fucking gobsmacked.

    ¡°You¡¯re kidding me with the coin thing, right?¡±

    Gary slotted another nickel into the machine as his gaze roved over the unhealthy, yet delicious goodies inside. ¡°How else can we get what¡¯s inside? I don¡¯t have the keys, and this glass is resilient enough to shrug off even the¡ª¡±

    My elbow shattered the glass pane of the snack machine next to Gary, which made surprisingly little noise. I cleared away the glass shards and reached inside to grab a handful of candy bars, stuffing them inside Gary¡¯s bag.

    ¡°Huh,¡± Gary said simply, staring. Then his thoughtful gaze shifted between the machine I¡¯d just broken into and the one before him. With an explosive grunt for added power, he threw an elbow forward. It slammed into the glass¡ª

    ¡ªand bounced off.

    ¡°Gah!¡± Gary hopped around in circles with his arm cradled against his chest. His nostrils flared, and rapid breaths hissed out from between his clenched teeth as the vending machine¡¯s glass rattled mockingly.

    My hands full with chip bags, I paused from my pilfering to watch Gary in abject amazement. First the stapler, then the nickels, and now this¡ªthe man was like an almost excruciatingly derpy panda. ¡°Maybe you should just keep watch while I finish this up,¡± I suggested to Gary.

    The man mumbled his assent as he nursed his bruised elbow and stepped aside. Meanwhile, I smashed my elbow into the pane of a soda machine, my face averted to protect my eyes from any stray glass fragments.

    ¡°So why do you have a sword and shield, anyways?¡± Gary asked as I began looting the machine of its contents. The backpack was now fat and heavy with our ill-gotten goods.

    Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.

    ¡°It¡¯s sort of a long story,¡± I said, stuffing a fizzy Grape Blast into Gary¡¯s backpack. ¡°Suffice to say, the simplest explanation involves a troll, lemons, socks, and a party gone awry. So nothing too interesting.¡±

    Gary gave me a strange look. ¡°I can¡¯t tell if you¡¯re being serious¡­¡±

    ¡°No one ever can,¡± I said with a forced grin.

    My fingers tugged at the backpack¡¯s pull tab, and I needed to pull the zipper¡¯s teeth together in order to zip the stuffed bag shut. Lifting the heavy backpack as if it were nothing then, I shrugged one strap over my shoulder. ¡°You ready?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Ready as I¡¯ll ever be,¡± Gary mutters unenthusiastically.

    ¡°Got your trusty stapler?¡±

    His cheeks heating up, Gary¡¯s gloomy demeanor shifted into one of embarrassment. ¡°Ugh, god, can we just forget about that entire thing?¡±

    ¡°Sorry man, but I¡¯ve still got a few more jokes to milk outta¡¯ that,¡± I said with a faint smile. ¡°Now, let¡¯s get going. We¡¯ve got places to be and cities to ditch.¡±

    First checking to make sure the coast was clear, we jogged across the lobby and I pushed open the stairwell door leading to the basement garage. Our footsteps echoed in the enclosed chamber as we quickly descended.

    ¡°I forgot to ask earlier, but where exactly will we be heading?¡± Gary asked in a whisper so that his voice wouldn¡¯t carry in the stairwell. ¡°There¡¯s a military base not too far from here. Fort Howers, I think it¡¯s called. Maybe we can find refuge there if they¡¯re hunkering down like you said.¡±

    ¡°I was thinkin¡¯ of something a little different actually.¡±

    ¡°Like what? Somewhere rural perhaps, where we can wait until this whole thing blows over and the government gets a handle on things?¡± Gary asked with a far more optimistic outlook than me.

    ¡°Maybe. But first, I want to cruise downtown and pick up a couple of chicks,¡± I said lightly, remembering the face of the mystery girl that I¡¯d seen through my link to Paige. ¡°We¡¯ll see where the night takes us after that, yeah?¡±

    Gary¡¯s footsteps behind me abruptly halted as I touched down on the bottom landing, where I found the door to the garage. Turning around, I found Gary standing in the middle of the stairs as he stared down at me. ¡°Is this you joking again?¡±

    ¡°Not this time,¡± I told him. ¡°I¡¯ve got someone that I need to pick up before high-tailing my ass out of this city for greener and less monster-infested pastures. That shouldn¡¯t be a problem, right?¡±

    ¡°So we just pick up this person¡ª¡±

    ¡°My girlfriend,¡± I corrected.

    ¡°This girlfriend of yours,¡± Gary continued with a nod, ¡°from wherever she is downtown? Listen, not to be a downer or anything, but how do you expect to find her in this mess? How do you even know if she¡¯s still, well, you know¡­?¡±

    ¡°Alive?¡± I said. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t you worry about that. Trust me when I say that she¡¯s most definitely alive. My little Sweet Pea is a tough one.¡±

    Okay, okay. I might be omitting a few key details with that vague explanation, but in my defense, I¡¯d only just met the guy. Blabbing about ¡®mysterious connections¡¯ and ¡®strange visions¡¯ wasn¡¯t something you shared with strangers, not unless you were billing by the hour and had a crystal ball in front of you.

    ¡°Fine,¡± Gary said with resignation. Besides, I was the one with the car after all. He trudged down the steps to stand beside me. ¡°Just so long as we¡¯re getting out of this city afterwords, I¡¯m in.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s what I like to hear!¡± I lightly punched Gary¡¯s shoulder as if we were already on the fast track to being the best of friends.

    ¡°Oof,¡± Gary grunted with a pained look as he rocked back from the power of my friendly jab. ¡°Damn, you¡¯re really strong,¡± Gary mumbled as he massaged his aching shoulder.

    Yikes. I needed a lot more practice at controlling my new strength, especially if I was going to keep my change under wraps. ¡°Sorry about that,¡± I said. ¡°Guess I forget my own strength sometimes.¡±

    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Gary said, shrugging off my concern. He stepped past me then and pulled open the door to the garage. ¡°Let¡¯s just get out of¡­¡± His voice trailed off as he stared into the inky-black gloom beyond the threshold.

    Now, there¡¯s dark and then there¡¯s fucking dark. This was the latter. It was the kind of malevolent darkness that had once forced primitive man to huddle around campfires for sanctuary, even as hidden, hungry eyes watched from beyond the dying firelight.

    Just staring into it felt as if someone had run a cold finger down my spine. I spared a brief glance at Gary, his face seemingly drained of blood. ¡°Say, you wouldn¡¯t happen to have a flashlight, would you?¡±

    Gary took out his phone and switched on the light function. The waxed metal of nearby cars glinted beneath the hazy cone of light as it cut into the gloom. ¡°Fitz,¡± he said with a touch of worry.

    I slowly drew out my sword. ¡°Yeah?¡±

    ¡°You sure about this?¡±

    ¡°On a scale of one-to-ten?¡± I asked.

    ¡°Sure.¡±

    ¡°I¡¯m at about a four.¡±

    ¡°Is that good or bad?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ll let you know when I figure that out,¡± I answered with a daring grin. Then I stepped inside and the oily darkness seemed to slither over me. Gary reluctantly trailed after me, his light sweeping side-to-side, revealing drab gray walls and pillars of concrete. I could almost hear the big man quivering behind me with each step.

    ¡°Press the key button so we can find the car,¡± Gary whispered anxiously in my ear, his wide eyes darting around at the many shadows cast by each sweep of his light.

    ¡°Sorry. No can do, amigo.¡± I held up the keys so they were dangling from my fingers, showing him the plain, unadorned steel instead of the electronic plastic keys of today¡¯s modern vehicles. ¡°We¡¯ve got to do this the hard way.¡±

    Gary muttered a curse beneath his breath.

    My eyes narrowed as I tried to pick out Cole¡¯s car amongst the shadows. Based on the keys in my hand, stamped with the imprint of a galloping horse, I was looking for an old Mustang. It was most likely a¡ª

    Shrccch.

    I immediately went still, and Gary almost bumped into me. ¡°Hey,¡± Gary whispered to me, confused. ¡°Why¡¯d you¡ª¡±

    My raised hand cut him off, and I scanned the darkness. Gary shined the light around us. However, there were only cars, lined up like coffins in some dusty tomb, surrounding us. ¡°Must have been my imagination,¡± I finally relented after a few long seconds of unbroken silence.

    But I picked up my pace, regardless.

    In little under a minute, after skirting the wall and nearing the garage¡¯s back corner, I found our ride beneath a protective tarp. It was a dark blue 1967 Shelby Mustang, and she was an aching beauty.

    My fingers played along the muscle car¡¯s smooth hood, its surface as cold as ice, as I went over to the driver¡¯s side. ¡°You had some good taste, Cole,¡± I murmured, my quiet words too soft for Gary to hear as he circled around to the other side. But I shook off the creeping melancholy and refocused myself on the task at hand.

    The key fit into door slot and a twist unlocked it. My door popped open with a soft click when I pulled at the latch, and Gary opened the passenger side door. Immediately, the car¡¯s bright dome light flickered on.

    Shrccch.

    My head snapped in the direction of the sound, a light scratching upon concrete, and Gary¡¯s light swung around, too. ¡°What was that noise?¡± Gary demanded, his quiet voice cracking.

    Something caught our attention, then, in one of Gary¡¯s sweeps. The beam of his flashlight settled on something a mere dozen feet away, right before the headlights of the Mustang.

    Staying rooted beside the car, because I¡¯d seen more than enough horror flicks to not go chasing after strange sounds in the dark, I narrowed my eyes on the object.

    It was a man¡¯s dress shoe, and around it was a dark patch of blood with drag marks leading deeper into the darkness. Then I heard Gary¡¯s terrified voice. ¡°Fitz¡­¡±

    I glanced up¡ªnot towards Gary, but into the darkness. Countless eyes stared back at me at varying heights, all reflecting the pathetically dim light of Gary¡¯s phone. But one pair of beady eyes stood out from the rest as it swung its head in our direction.

    Perched upon the roof of a car across from us was large shadow.  A man-sized shadow. The blood trail led straight to it. ¡°What¡¯s this?¡± the shadow asked with a raspy voice. ¡°Have more tasty morsels wandered into my new den?¡±

    The creature raised a thin arm, pointing. At us. ¡°Bring them to me, children,¡± the raspy voice commanded. And a chittering chorus erupted as a black tide of rats rolled forward.

    Okay, fuck that.

    Fuck that so much.

    My sword slammed into its sheath. I shrugged off the backpack and threw it into the back of the car. Then I hopped into the driver¡¯s seat and slammed my door shut. Gary heaved his bulk into the passenger seat as just I slid the key into the ignition.

    I gave it a sharp twist.

    A sputtering cough came from the Mustang. ¡°Come on, come on, come on!¡± I muttered. ¡°Just purr for me, baby. I know you can do it.¡± I gave the key another twist and got another weak sputter. Fuck!

    ¡°They¡¯re almost here!¡± Gary screamed.

    Outside, I could see the frenzied rat swarm almost ready to wash over us. One of my hands clenched the steering wheel in a death grip as I squeezed my eyes shut. Start, damn it. Start! Then I turned the key hard once more¡ª

    ¡ªand I heard the roar of an engine. ¡°Fuck yeah!¡±

    The car¡¯s headlights flared to life and flooded the area before us with glorious light. Bathed in repulsing brilliance, the seething mass of rats rolled back as they furiously chattered.

    Uttering an annoyed ¡®Tsk,¡¯ the shadowy humanoid atop the car unhurriedly crept on all-fours down the hood and onto the ground. Rats parted for the creature¡¯s path, as if they were loyal subjects before a king, and it stalked into the light, dragging the hairless tail of a massive rodent behind it.

    Dirty layers of clothing¡ªthe rags of the homeless¡ªhung loosely from the monster¡¯s scrawny frame, half hiding the patchy brown fur of a rodent riddled with mange. Even worse, open sores dotted the creature¡¯s disease-ridden hide, oozing rot and pus that made me want to gag from just seeing it.

    Scenting the air, the monster¡¯s long snout twitched and its lips peeled back, as if it were smiling, to reveal a massive plaque-stained incisor. Slowly, the ratman rose onto its hind legs to stand upright like a man. ¡°There¡¯s no¡ª¡±

    A hacking, phlegm-filled cough racked the creature¡¯s entire body. But it quickly passed, reducing the unhealthy creature to a wheezing wreck. ¡°There¡¯s no escape,¡± the ratman breathed out, his unsettling rasp even more raw now.

    ¡°They¡¯ve got us trapped,¡± Gary said, hyperventilating as his head whipped left and then right, seeing only the blackened mass of rats surrounding us, hovering at the edge of the light. ¡°There¡¯s nowhere for us to go!¡±

    ¡°Well, there is one way,¡± I said before clicking in my seatbelt. The engine roared as I fed it a little gas, and the car¡¯s frame shook at the sheer power contained within. Hearing that, the ratman only wheezed out a breathy chuckle.

    My hand fell to the leather-wrapped gear lever and my other hand tightened around the top of the steering wheel. ¡°Gary.¡± My gaze never wavered from the rat horde and the evil parody of Master Splinter leading them. ¡°You should really buckle up. Safety first and all.¡±

    I heard the click of his seatbelt. ¡°Also, about that question of yours earlier. I think I¡¯ve changed my mind. On a scale of one-to-ten, and given our current situation, I¡¯m leaning to more of a two now.¡±

    ¡°That¡¯s bad isn¡¯t it?¡± Gary asked, panic and regret thick in his cracking voice as he watched the ratman take a confident step forward, its rat swarm surging behind it as if bolstered by their leader¡¯s presence.

    Unlike Gary, though, I was calm despite my racing heart. Focused. A devilish grin tugged at the corner of my lips, and the Mustang rumbled once more as I continued to feed it even more gas. ¡°We¡¯re about to find out.¡±

    I floored it.

 Chapter Seven

    After-holiday greetings all! Had a few hick-up over the vacation (my laptop got hit with a bunch of Blue Screens of Death) so I spent most of the time trying to fix that. Anyways, here''s the latest chapter with a reveal at Fitz true nature! (I wonder who can guess what he is?)

    If you notice any typos/errors, let me know so I can quash those pesky things.

    This chapter has been proofread by BlissForgotten. Many Thanks!

    <hr />

    Of Monsters and men

    Chapter Seven

    The Mustang shot forward like a bullet from a gun, and the sudden acceleration threw me back into my seat. One hand clutching his seatbelt strap, Gary made a quick Sign of the Cross and muttered a prayer beneath his ragged breath.

    ¡°Tsk,¡± the ratman sneered, its reflective gaze growing brighter and brighter as the car¡¯s headlights bore down upon it. Setting its feet, the monster spread its spindly arms wide and the swarm around it swelled with hundreds¡ªthousands¡ªof rats. The writhing mass of flesh and fur blanketed the garage before me.

    But I had thirty-five hundred pounds of moving steel and a boldness bordering on insanity. My straight-shot trajectory didn¡¯t shift even a single inch, and seeing that, the ratman¡¯s haughty expression flickered.

    ¡°Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit! It¡¯s not moving!¡± Gary wailed, his hand pressing against the glove box to brace himself as we barreled toward the ratman.

    Thirty feet¡­

    Fifteen...

    One¡­

    The ratman¡¯s defiant, pock-scarred visage dominated my vision. But at the last moment, it leapt high into the air, its knees pulled up to its sunken chest. The ratman¡¯s curled up body smashed into the center of the Mustang¡¯s windshield.

    Crunch!

    Cracks spider-webbed across the now bloodied, half caved-in glass, and the ratman gracelessly tumbled up and over. Its wickedly keen nails scraped across the roof with a piercing shriek as it tried to stubbornly hang on.

    But then we crashed into the chittering horde.

    And the rats¡­

    The rats were everywhere.

    Their bodies turned into gory paste beneath the spinning tires, and more than a few carcasses pelted the windshield as the Mustang relentlessly plowed through them. In my white-knuckled grip, the steering wheel fought against me¡ªtwisting and turning¡ªfor every jarring inch I gained, as if the car had a mind of its own. And one with a mean fucking temper, too.

    Bang!

    I jumped. The ratman pounded against the roof, and three grime-stained nails, curved into deadly points, punctured the steel and vinyl right above me. Shit, that¡¯d given me a good scare!

    ¡°Turn, turn, turn!¡± Gary insistently jabbed his finger forward then, pointing. Closing in fast was a row of cars lined up against the wall at the end of our ¡®L¡¯ shaped aisle, one of which the ratman had originally been perched upon.

    ¡°Hold on tight, Gary! This here is a little trick I picked up a couple years ago, back when I was cruising with some friends in Hong Kong!¡±

    I shifted the Mustang into second gear. My foot still pressed hard on the gas, I twisted the steering wheel into the sharp turn and yanked the handbrake up. The car began to slide into a controlled drift around the tight corner.

    Hell yeah! Even being a couple of years out¡ª

    ¡°Oh fuck!¡± I¡¯d misjudged the turn¡¯s sharpness, and as the Mustang¡¯s ass-end swung around, with the gore-slick tires skidding across the paved concrete, it smashed into the rear bumper of a parked convertible.

    My seatbelt bit hard into my chest at the dead stop, and a grimace twisted my lips at the painful tugging on my tender wounds. The ratman fared far worse though, being flung from the roof with a raspy yowl, its long nails¡ªstill embedded in the roof¡ªripped out from their roots.

    It tumbled into the open-roof convertible, a tangled mess of skeletal limbs and filthy rags, and vanished into the back seat.

    ¡°That,¡± Gary sucked down a sharp breath, ¡°That trick sucked.¡±

    ¡°It worked out a lot better in my head,¡± I groggily admitted.

    Claws scraped upon metal, then, and a renewed terror filled Gary¡¯s eyes as the Mustang rocked¡ªit actually rocked¡ªfrom the vermin onslaught now engulfing us.

    In the brief seconds since we¡¯d been stopped dead in our tracks, rats skittered up the car¡¯s entire frame. They scrambled over tires, over steel, over their own brethren. Dozens of the maddened rodents managed to climb onto the Mustang¡¯s hood, to press themselves against the windshield, searching.

    Searching for a way in.

    One rat scrambled up the windshield itself, and it let out a chittering cry when it discovered a tiny hole, a little bigger than a half-dollar, in the cracked windshield. Gary let out a strangled shout as the rat began worming its way through a small hole, its body contorting¡ªcollapsing¡ªto fit.

    In my side-view mirror, I saw an emaciated hand bang onto the convertible¡¯s trunk, shaking the car. Three bloody nubs dragged across the car¡¯s smooth surface before it found a grip, and then the ratman hauled itself up, its uneven breath coming out in hissing wheezes.

    Ours gazes locked in the mirror¡ªme smirking, and its left eye twitching with an undisguised loathing. I gave it a wink and slammed down on the gas.

    Its wheels screeching as rubber burned, the Mustang jumped forward like a prized race horse out of the gate and shot down the new aisle. ¡°Stop them!¡± the ratman croaked, its crooked finger stabbed accusingly in our direction, ordering the tide of rats after us.

    Still in the side-view mirror, an ever-shrinking figure, I saw as the ratman leapt onto roof of the car beside it. And then it bounded over to the next one. Dropping to all-fours, the ratman vaulted from one roof to the next, trailing after me and alongside its horde.

    It was gaining on me, too.

    Thankfully, though, there was a light at the end of this dark, rat-infested tunnel¡ªor aisle, in this case. At the end of my current lane was a ramp leading into the night, its automatic security gate stuck half open, as if someone¡ªor something¡ªhad forcefully raised it up to get inside.

    The weak, flickering glow of a street lamp, almost smothered by the blizzard, poured through the exit and pressed into the garage¡¯s gloom. My foot weighed heavy on the gas as we got closer.

    ¡°It got inside!¡± Gary screamed, then, as a rat squirmed through the hole in the windshield and fell onto the dashboard. It sprang at Gary, who swatted it away with a terrified shriek¡ª

    ¡ªand knocked it onto my lap.

    ¡°Dammit, Gary, not on me! Why would you hit it onto me!?¡± I roared, more concerned as to where the vermin was rather than the rat itself.

    In my outburst, the Mustang had unintentionally served to the left, side-swiping the cars lining the aisle. My side-view mirror was torn off in a shower of sparks, and I lost sight of the ratman behind us. Quickly, I jerked the wheel straight and swerved back into the aisle¡¯s center.

    The rats still scrambling on the windshield slid helplessly across the glass at the wrenching maneuver, and their flailing bodies tumbled off into the darkness.

    In my lap, though, a lone rat¡ªa real big bastard, too¡ªwrithed across my thighs, trying to get on its feet. And when I say big, I mean big. Like, able to eat a fucking cat big.

    One of my hands lunged down at the rat, like a coiled viper striking at its prey, and my fingers wrapped around the rat¡¯s throat. Hauling the thrashing animal into the air, I pounded it into the center of the steering wheel. ¡°Stop!¡±

    Honk!

    The car horn sharply blared, and the rat¡¯s resistance noticeably lessened. But in a flash it shook off its stupor and angrily squeaked, its struggling renewed as it sought to claw and nip itself free of my iron grip. I smashed its head into the steering wheel again. ¡°Squirming!¡±

    Honk!

    The rat¡¯s furious chittering was cut short and its body went slack. I viciously flung the rat away from me, right into the leg space of Gary¡¯s side, to his absolute horror. His feet stomped down to finish off the rat, his legs pumping up and down as if he were pedaling in the Tour de-fucking-France.

    A fleshy crunch announced Gary¡¯s ultimate success.

    The Mustang violently rocked then, and her suspension ominously squealed. My eyes flashed to the rear-view mirror. Bathed in the eerie blood-red of the Mustang¡¯s taillights was a figure desperately hanging onto the car¡¯s trunk.

    The ratman.

    One of its skeletal arms draped over the trunk, and its nails were deeply planted into the top of the trunk, with the rest of its body dragging behind. Glancing at the speedometer, I saw the needle pushing past forty-five already. Holy shit!

    Talk about fast!

    ¡°Oh Christ, he looks pissed!¡± Gary said as he saw the ratman. His eyes began to dart around the car¡¯s interior and his head whipped around, as if searching for something to defend himself with.

    Hissing out a wheeze of effort through clenched teeth, the ratman lifted itself up and slapped its other hand onto the trunk, its bloody nubs for fingertips searching for¡ª

    I jerked the wheel to shake off our unwelcome passenger. An aggravated growl rumbled from the ratman¡¯s throat as its probing hand was torn free, and its body sagged down once more. But, its other hand still held on.

    Fuck.

    ¡°A gun!¡± Gary suddenly cried out in happy surprise. ¡°I found a gun!¡±

    In front of the man was an open glove compartment, its contents¡ªreceipts, car manuals, napkins¡ªspilling out. There was also a small box of ammo for a .38 inside. And in Gary¡¯s hands was the weapon itself.

    The snub-nose revolver fit snug inside a leather holster, one that¡¯d be perfect to hide inside a waistband. His sweaty palm wrapped around the pearl enamel grip and Gary tugged it free, tossing the holster aside.

    ¡°How do I know if it¡¯s loaded?¡± he hurriedly asked.

    ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I said, sparing the gun a quick glance before returning my attention the exit ramp closing in fast, only a few seconds away. ¡°Try to¡­Argh, fuck, I don¡¯t know. Try shooting it!¡±

    Hands trembling, Gary turned and aimed at the ratman still struggling to climb up. ¡°Let¡¯s see if you like eating hot lead!¡± he roared at the monster, if only to bolster his courage.

    He squeezed the trigger and flinched at the anticlimactic click. Then he pulled it five more times in rapid succession. Nothing.

    The ratman dug the fingers of his free hand into the crevice between the rear windshield and the trunk, heaving itself up. All while shooting Gary a knowing glare. ¡°Oh God, he¡¯s super pissed now,¡± Gary quailed.

    ¡°Stop staring and load the gun!¡±

    ¡°Right!¡± Gary hastily fumbled at the gun in his hands, often anxiously sneaking glances over his shoulder at the ratman. ¡°How do I open this stupid thing? There¡¯s got to be¡ª¡±

    The revolver¡¯s cylinder snapped out. Mumbling a word of thanks to no one in particular, Gary snatched up the ammo box and opened it. The neat and tightly packed rows of bullets were within.

    ¡°We¡¯re about to hit the ramp!¡± I said in warning.

    In my periphery, I saw the speedometer¡¯s needle drifting past sixty, and I had no intention of stopping. Not with the ratman and its rat swarm riding my ass.

    ¡°This is going to be rough,¡± I promised.

    Up ahead was the exit ramp, and its already half-open security gate began to rise as it detected the electronic pass¡ªreserved for residents¡ªstickied to the inside of the Mustang¡¯s windshield. It rose up by a foot. Then two.

    Unfortunately, it stalled just there.

    Wonderful. It must¡¯ve been damaged when it¡¯d been forcefully pried open. Either that, or it was due to the weird tech interference. Reasons aside though, it¡¯d be a close shave for the Mustang to make it beneath the gate. Close, but not impossible.

    Grabbing a small handful of bullets, Gary tossed the rest of the ammo box onto the dashboard. His nerves fraying, he tried to load a round into the cylinder, missing a couple of times before finally slotting it.

    The next bullet proved just as difficult. So just after he loaded it, Gary snapped the cylinder back into place and twisted in his seat. He lifted the gun and aimed it right at the ratman.

    ¡°Round two!¡± Gary screamed. ¡°Now, let¡¯s see if you like eating¡ª¡±

    We hit the ramp.

    Hard.

    The open ammo box on the dash bounced into the air, and bullets burst free like a cheap party popper to spill everywhere. The car shot under the security gate, full speed a-fucking-head, and a shower of sparks rained down on us as the raised gate scraped across the Mustang¡¯s roof.

    Light flashed then, and a split second later an ear-splitting boom followed as Gary¡¯s gun went off right beside my ear, its sound magnified in the enclosed car. Spider-webs of cracks appeared in the rear window¡¯s laminated glass, but the bullet didn¡¯t penetrate it.

    The ratman seemed to be more than willing to finish the job, though.  Perched upon the trunk, one hand in the crevice between the window and trunk to maintain its hold and balance, the monster pulled back a fist and slammed it into the glass.

    Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

    Crunch!

    Its thin arm punched through the glass like paper.

    ¡°Oh shit, oh shit!¡± Gary¡¯s muted voice filtered through the ringing in my ear. His despairing gaze swept over the backseat and the floor behind his seat. ¡°I dropped it, man. The sudden jump just knocked it out of my hand, and now I can¡¯t find it!¡±

    ¡°Sort of busy myself, Gary!¡± The Mustang climbed up the ramp at a breakneck speed, going higher and higher. And then we burst onto the streets, and into the midst of a raging snowstorm.

    Snow bombarded the Mustang¡¯s windshield. Its chill seeped in through the cracks, and even the heaters on full blast couldn¡¯t suppress its frigid touch. But worst of all, I couldn¡¯t see anything through the wintry scene. But, I wasn¡¯t about to let something as little as blindness stop me.

    Turning sharply, so that we¡¯d drive along the street rather than across it, the Mustang¡¯s rear end swung around once more, its tires sliding across the icy street.

    Not to be shaken off again, the ratman¡¯s gnarled fingers curled around the edge of its newly made hole. Jagged glass bit into what little flesh hung from the monster¡¯s bony fingers as it held on tightly, its blood staining the glass a dark crimson.

    The Mustang came to a jarring stop then, in what I presumed to be the middle of the street, as I couldn¡¯t see jack or shit. And with the abrupt halt came a crackling rip as the ratman tore away a sizable chunk of laminated glass. One large enough to let it squeeze inside.

    The ratman lodged itself, headfirst, through the hole without a moment¡¯s hesitation. Bloodshot eyes darted over the car¡¯s interior, and its wickedly keen claws shredded the leather upholstery as it tried to push itself further inside, squirming.

    I undid my seatbelt and left the Mustang¡¯s engine rumbling. ¡°Gary, take the wheel and start driving! That rat horde will be on us soon if we don¡¯t switch fast.¡±

    ¡°What!? Why do we need to switch?¡±

    ¡°Unless you want to handle Mickey-I¡¯ll eat your fucking heart out-Mouse back there?¡±

    ¡°I¡¯ve got the wheel!¡± Gary resolutely nodded, without even a shred of shame on his face. Unclicking his seatbelt, he maneuvered his bulk with surprising grace as I clambered over the middle divide and into the Mustang¡¯s narrow backseat.

    Halfway inside, the ratman¡¯s eyes lit up as it spotted me. ¡°You!¡±

    ¡°Me!¡± My fist clocked the ratman across its face. Blood, spit, and a couple of teeth flew out of the monster¡¯s maw as its head snapped to the side.

    Just as I was ready to follow up with a second punch, the Mustang bucked forward, its engine roaring like the king of some urban jungle. I face-planted into the tattered upholstery and sprawled out on the backseat, where Gary¡¯s backpack pressed hard into my lower back, just beneath my shield¡¯s bottom edge.

    Its long tongue lolling from a broken jaw, the ratman shook away its daze and shrugged the rest of its body inside, tumbling in an awkward mess of limbs next to me as it bounced off the back of the driver¡¯s seat.

    Righting itself, saliva drooled from the ratman¡¯s gaping mouth, and the light of intelligence now seemed lost behind a feverish gaze. The ratman¡¯s panting became ragged, and around its maw a bloody froth bubbled, as if it¡¯d gone rabid.

    Not good.

    It¡¯s frenzying!

    With blade work out of the question in such confined quarters, I tugged at a backpack strap and whipped out the bag itself from behind me. A couple of cans and chip bags went flying as the zipper broke apart.

    Jumping on the ratman¡¯s back¡ªstraddling it¡ªI threw the backpack¡¯s strap over its head. Then I yanked the nylon strap tight around the monster¡¯s slender throat like a garrote.

    Its air cut off, the monster¡¯s hands frantically pawed at the strap as a wheezing gurgle slipped through its collapsing windpipe. I tightened the make-shift noose. ¡°It¡¯s nighty-night time, asshole,¡± I hissed into an infected, flea-ridden ear.

    A choking wheeze was its only response. But then the ratman¡¯s scrawny body shifted under me. Its skinny legs coiled beneath it into a crouch, and then the monster pushed itself up with an explosive strength.

    My back smashed into the car¡¯s roof, and my breath vanished with an ¡®oof¡¯!  Junk food and sodas spilled out from Gary¡¯s bag in a shower at the brutal movement. But the ratman wasn¡¯t done yet.

    It lurched to the left and rammed its backside¡ªalong with little ol¡¯ me¡ªinto the side of the car, crushing me. Pain stabbed at my chest, maybe from a fractured rib or two on top of the strained wounds I¡¯d gotten from the troll.

    Yet I continued to hang on stubbornly. My forearms crisscrossed as I tugged at the strap¡¯s ends even harder, to squeeze out the last breaths of life from this mutant rodent. ¡°Just fuckin¡¯ die already!¡±

    Its beady eyes bulged even further out from its skull under the mounting strain. Gathering its waning strength, though, the ratman propelled itself to the other right of the car, and my muscles tensed for the inevitable impact.

    The ratman twisted with a violent pivot, and my back crashed into car¡¯s side, with the base of my skull bashing against metal. Stars danced in my vision, and my grip on the strap weakened as I slumped against the car¡¯s side.

    Straightaway, the monster tore away the strap, its claws slicing through the nylon with ease now that it wasn¡¯t hidden within its matted fur, digging into its bruised and purpling flesh. It gulped down a deep breath.

    ¡°Holy shit!¡± Gary cried out in surprise then, his horn blaring. The Mustang swerved to the side to avoid a head-on collision. The bright glare of headlights briefly flooded the car¡¯s interior before another vehicle recklessly shot past us, to be quickly swallowed in the snowstorm.

    Caught off-balance, the ratman was sent reeling towards the driver¡¯s side, and in my periphery, I saw an object¡ªthe missing gun¡ªskitter out from beneath the passenger-side seat beside me.

    A grunt of displeasure managed its way through the ratman¡¯s broken jaw and shattered teeth as it pushed itself up, its unnerving stare settling on me once more.

    Loathing, hunger, insanity. A swathe of emotions twisted its monstrous countenance as the ratman hurled itself at me. Its good hand drew back with its fingers splayed and its nails curled inward, as if it meant to plunge it into my chest and rip out my still-beating heart.

    My perception of time slowed, then, in that thrilling moment of perfect, razor-sharp clarity found only in-between heartbeats, when one toed the line dividing life and death. I shot my hand out, and my fingers wrapped around the revolver¡¯s cold grip.

    There was one shot left. One bullet. I leveled the gun at the ratman nearly atop me, its hand outstretched and its mouth wide open to snap me up.

    ¡°I win.¡±

    Then I squeezed the trigger.

    Boom!

    A flash brightened the ratman¡¯s horrified expression before it ate a hot .38 round. The monster¡¯s head snapped back, and a geyser of brain-matter and blood painted the Mustang¡¯s roof. The ratman¡¯s body instantly collapsed atop me, like a puppet whose strings had been suddenly cut.

    ¡°Holy shit! Holy shit, you actually kill him!¡± Gary kept glancing over his shoulder to gawk at the dead creature, his face flushed as if he¡¯d just fought the ratman too. ¡°Damn, that was¡ª¡±

    His voice choked off as his full attention returned to the street, and I heard a bang of a gun and some muffled shrieks from nearby. The car swerved hard to the side, but then a tyrannical force smashed into the front of the Mustang.

    The car spun in a vicious roll. My stomach jumped into my throat as a weightlessness took hold of me, but only for a single moment. Then my world came crashing down. Along with me.

    My body bounced around inside the car like a pinball, and I saw the chaos of it all unfold, as if they came in single-moment snap shots.

    I saw bullets and sodas tossed into the air. I saw the strained veins pounding on Gary¡¯s reddened face as he was roughly jerked against the seatbelt holding him down. I saw the sparks as the Mustang¡¯s roof skidded across the street.

    Then I saw darkness.

    An incessant, emergency pinging eventually roused my mind, with more than a few gunshots punctuating the night from close by. My nose twitched at the heavy smell of gasoline saturating the air, and I slowly cracked open my eyes.

    The Mustang was flipped. I was laid out on the roof, atop the ratman¡¯s corpse. Gary hung upside-down from his seat, the seatbelt keeping him aloft as his arms dangling beside his head. Blood trickled from his twitching fingertips.

    ¡°Gary,¡± I called out in a rattling whisper.

    No response.

    Fuck.

    I took one glance at the passenger-side door, and saw its frame had warped under the weight of the Mustang¡¯s undercarriage. So with my teeth gritted, I dragged my aching body through the hole that¡¯d been ripped open by the ratman, each breath a struggle.

    Glass bit into my forearms, going right through my woolen coat, and more than a few crystalline shards dug into my blood-slick palms. A vibrant scarlet stained the white snow as I belly-crawled out from under the wreckage, and a curtain of blood oozed from the hot, throbbing gash across my temple.

    Outside was a scene pulled from a zombie flick. A few bodies lay strewn across the distant sidewalks, half hidden underneath a veil of white powder, and the looming shadows of dark apartment buildings lined the street.

    Farther down from me a couple of cars in the street had been set ablaze. Flickering flames, battered and fed by the chilled wind, climbed into the night sky as they merrily danced and cast the scene in firelight.

    Pop!

    A gunshot echoed over from the street behind me. A small clump of people materialized from the storm¡¯s blinding snow, their breaths coming out in white plumes as they sprinted down the sidewalk in a panicked dash. No one even noticed me.

    I doubted anyone would¡¯ve cared even if they did.

    My skull throbbing even more now, I sluggishly staggered around the overturned Mustang to get Gary. But as I reached out to pull at the door¡¯s handle, I froze. Instead, after a moment¡¯s pause, my quickly numbing fingers wiped the slush off the car¡¯s door.

    There, reflected on the Mustang¡¯s waxed steel was my face, but with a horrific twist. Around the gash that cut across my right temple were long cracks, as if my face was a damaged porcelain mask. Just then, a bloodied fragment of that mask broke off, and on this falling piece was a fearfully wide eye.

    My eye.

    It freely tumbled in the air, and strangest of all, I could still look through it, to gaze upon myself. To catch a small glimpse at the inhumanly beautiful face that¡¯d been hidden beneath that fragment, with its blazing iris like liquid gold and its skin flawlessly bronzed.

    The tumbling eye fragment blinked at me, and then it struck the asphalt with the glassy ring of shattering crystal, to burst into a bluish miasma.

    Suddenly, as if a chain once constricting me had finally loosened, a surge of intoxicating strength flooded throughout my body, and my head began pounding as if something wanted out.

    ¡°Argh!¡± I reeled backwards and fell to my knees as pain exploded in my skull. My eyes squeezed shut, and both of my palms pressed against my throbbing head.

    Whoosh!

    The car fires behind me roared with a sudden vigor, and their wavering flames turned into an ethereal shade of blue. Pushing through my fingers, then, as my jaw clenched so hard my gums began to bleed under the pressure, a stag¡¯s antler burst out from the pulsing gash on my temple, its smooth texture not the cool touch of bone, but that of wood.

    Pop! Pop!

    The gunshots were closer now. Much closer. However, my world had been reduced to one thing: pain. Pain as the antler continued to sprout and began to curl back over my head, and as the fissures split further across my face. I barely registered the deep roar that thundered out in response to the gunfire, or the rending of metal shrieking over the blizzard¡¯s winds.

    Finally, the skull-splitting agony finally abated, and the antler¡¯s growth tapered off at a length rivaling that of a man¡¯s forearm. My hands limply fell into the slush at my sides, and I sagged into a relieved slouch, too mentally taxed to even begin to understand what was going on with me.

    A tremor shook the ground then.

    Emerging from the wintry darkness was the faint outline of a towering shadow. Each ponderous step it took made the earth tremble, and in its fist was a bent lamp post, with some concrete still clinging to its uprooted base. I lazily tilted my head back to dully stare up at the shadowy behemoth, standing just beyond the firelight.

    ¡°Let me guess,¡± I spat out a glob of blood, ¡°You must be the asswipe that fucked up my ride.¡±