Dark Destiny (8 page)

A few minutes later, the subway train slowed to a stop at the station. The doors slid open with their typical squeaky protest. The Goth chick hopped up and hurried off the train. She was either late for something or the two losers made her nervous. Guppy and Turtle watched her go, exchanged glances, and rose to follow her, a little too eagerly for Jared’s taste.

Jared grinned. This was perfect. Something to take his mind off Sara’s death.

As the doors started closing, Jared leapt up and wedged his arm in between them to prevent them from shutting. The safety mechanism kicked in and they opened up. Jared snaked his way through the crowd of commuters out to the platform. He caught a glimpse of the fishnet stockings climbing the steps that led to the street level. Guppy and Turtle weren’t far behind. Both disappeared from his line of sight. Jared quickened his pace. He flew up the stairs, skipping steps with ease.

As soon as he stepped outside he took in the surroundings and realized he hadn’t taken note of the subway stop. He was in the middle of downtown, in the dead center of the city, a place he hadn’t been in years. Tires screeched, followed by a crashing sound. A car accident. Off in the distance, several gunshots echoed. A lady screamed. A smile of glee broke over his face. He recalled things had gotten pretty rough, but this was insane! He liked it.

Taunting male voices snapped him back to the present and the task at hand. Not far down the beggar-lined sidewalk he saw Turtle holding onto Violet Eyes’ black leather messenger bag. Guppy stood tall in front of her, his hand reaching out now and then to touch her jacket or her hair. The girl swatted his hand away, her expression far angrier than scared. Jared stepped closer and listened.

“. . . you have a really pretty face, and you’re not wearing much makeup. Just eyeliner and lipstick, right? Your fair skin may have powder, but I don’t see any. If it is powder, that’s some mighty good blending.”

“
Give
me my bag,” she said, her voice hard.

“What’s your name, pretty girl?” the other one asked.

She looked from one to the other before answering.

“Amber,” she pronounced slowly and clearly. “My name is Am-ber.”

It sounded almost like a threat.

“Hey,” Jared called out as he approached.

All parties faced him. Both guys huffed their chests out and sucked their bellies in to make themselves seem like they had more muscle.

“Who is
this
guy?” Guppy called out.

Jared grinned as he approached. He couldn’t help it. He needed this. “Tick, tick, boom.”

Guppy raised an eyebrow. “Tick, tick
—
”

But he was interrupted by Jared’s fist smashing his face. Guppy’s nose cracked. With every ounce of power he had, Jared continued forward with his fist, putting his weight behind him. He wanted this guy on the ground. Not only did he want to wreck his nose, but to kick in his face. This felt good. It felt right. A smile broke across Jared’s face. For the second time today, he felt like everything was going to be okay.

Turtle charged him.

Perfect timing
, Amber thought as she watched the fight in front of her. She’d wondered what had taken Jared so long to get here. Honestly, what was he waiting for? Her annoyance with these humans had almost gotten to the point where she would have had to deal with this situation herself and that would have been bad. While exploded human bits all over the Baltimore city streets would have been cute, it would have left too many questions.

She carefully moved her violet streaked hair out of her face and checked her nails. Perfect as always. She blinked her violet eyes, letting frightened passersby and beggars get a full view of what she considered her best feature. They were
somewhat
natural. No contact lenses that is. Still, it wasn’t the color she was born with. . .

A snapping sound brought her back to the fight. The larger one screamed, his head thrown back in agony. That finger was definitely broken. This Jared kid was no joke, the way he moved like a panther, smooth and vicious. Pretty impressive, really. For a human. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed the smaller one attempt to punch Jared only to find himself drop kicked in the chest.

Behind her, a pedestrian finally stopped to offer assistance.

“Uh, need some help?” he said. “What exactly is going on?”

“Uhhh . . . These guys started messing with me. And this ginger
—
”

“JARED!” he screamed at her.

How did he even hear that?
she wondered.

“
Jared
, jumped in and started beating them up,” Amber continued calmly.

The passerby stood beside her, observing. Jared had things completely under control.

“Do you think we should call the police?” the passerby asked.

Probably an ambulance,
she thought.

Amber shrugged.

“I think he’ll do just fine on his own,” she said, a menacing grin on her blackened lips.

The passerby pulled out a phone. “I think I’d better call the cops anyway.”

Amber made eye contact with him. “You may leave. Go home. Get drunk. Pass out on the couch.”

He put away his phone. “Sounds like fun.” He turned to leave.

Jared left them barely conscious. He took out his phone and snapped a picture of them before walking off, muttering to himself about how awesome he was. The steel-toe boot print on Guppy’s face was really the best part, or maybe it was when he slammed Turtle’s head into the brick wall.

She came up behind him, her boots echoing off the sidewalk. “Hey, thanks.”

“Huh?”

She flipped her hair and smiled. “Jared, right?”

“Yeah, sure,” Jared said dismissively.

Walking faster, she caught up to him. “You okay?”

“Yup.”

“I’ve never seen anybody move like you before.”

“Nope.”

“You’re not bad.”

“Yup.” Jared continued onward, showing no interest.

“Okaaaaay,” she said with a smile. “This is new.”

“Where the hell am I anyway?”

“Light and Pratt.”

“Hmm. Okay. Food. It has to be around here somewhere.”

“How about you let me thank you for the rescue. What if I bought your dinner?”

“What makes you think I’m hungry?”

Amber blinked. “You
just
said
—
”

“Oh, right. I almost forgot. You probably want my . . . yeah.” He fished out a small notepad from his jeans back pocket and a pen from the front. He began scribbling. Once he was done, he tore out the paper, handed it to her and walked off.

The paper read . . .

@JaredRules

She glared at him. “You gave me your
twitter
handle?”

“Yup. You should be lucky. I have 29 followers.” He pointed at her. “And you could be number 30.”

Amber gave him a disbelieving smile. “Um, I was hoping for something a little more
—”

Jared sighed. “No offense, but you don’t know me. You’re cute and all, and you’ve got some amazing eyes there.” He glanced down. “And legs, but I just wanted to beat some bad guys up. Job’s done. I’m a hero. Good night.”

He went to walk away.

Amber eyed him with a scowl.
Seriously? What a flippant ass! Was he making a conscious effort to be ignorant?

After all the trouble she had gone through just for him too . . .

She took a breath. Normally, she wouldn’t let her annoyance get the best of her, but this was a special case. She decided to press it. She closed her eyes and let the words reverberate in her mind. Once the spell was complete, she opened her eyes, revealing a lighter shade of violet. She followed him down the sidewalk.

“When you were young, you saw something. It hurt you. No, scarred you. It was so ugly, you still feel it till this day. You feel it so strongly that you have a need to hurt others. That’s why you pick bullies, right? Every time you see a bully, you feel the need to punish him, to hurt him.” She paused and spoke softly, “it . . . helps make the pain go away.”

That stopped Jared dead in his tracks. He faced her, eyes narrowed.

“What did you just
—
? You know what? I don’t care. You have no idea who I am or what I’ve been through.” Jared scowled, turned around, and walked off.

Amber watched him as he disappeared among the crowd of commuters.

If he only knew.

“Goodbye, Jared,” she whispered with a confident, eerie smile.

What was that?
Jared thought to himself, casting a final glare at the girl.
Who did she think she was? Creepy Goth chick . . .

Behind him, a light bulb popped. One of the streetlights. Broken glass sprinkled down on the street below. This city was falling apart. He could feel the darkness behind him. Then, a humming sound. The streetlight.

What the—?

He turned around, expecting Violet Eyes or “Amber” as she called herself still tailing him. The streetlight that had just popped flickered on.

Didn’t it just break?

He searched the sidewalk behind him for the girl. On it was nothing but dirt, cracked pavement and broken glass.

She was gone.

Monday, 9:04 pm

Sebastian groaned as he lifted his head from the cold, tiled floor. A pain shot up through his spine as he sat up.
What the heck . . .?
It took a moment for the memory of the strange water lady to come back to him.
Was that real?
 No, it couldn’t have been. But then why was he lying on the bathroom floor?
God, why was everything so weird? What was happening to him?
Sara, the explosion, the vortex, the weird thing that had happened at school with the creepy classroom. A water lady? Maybe Jared had slipped him some acid as a practical joke, but still. . .

He managed to pull himself up off the tiled floor, cast a quick glance into the sink to see if any water creatures were there, and then spent the rest of the evening lying on his soft bed, reading comics and watching a
Judge Mathis
marathon on TV. When sleep started to overtake him he clicked off the TV, lay back and willed Sara’s face to come into his mind. He wanted to dream about her, about her lips, her eyes, the way she held his face in her soft hands, the way she moved. Yes, that’s what he would dream about. He would revel in her softness, her midnight blue eyes. He felt himself drawn to them, to their darkness, longing to be consumed by them. Deeper and deeper he fell into them, into the world of dreams. . .

He gazes at the midnight blue, the sky above. The stars seemed bright before, but now they’re extinguished. They can’t handle the pain. The moon shines down brightly, refusing to avert her eyes.

Look at it
, the moon seems to say.
Look at what you’ve done
.

The Great Sphinx of Giza glows under the brilliant moon, a towering backdrop to the small town below. The houses, made of stone and mud, seem to sag under the weight of so much sadness. In the town’s center, a large pit is dug into the ground, billowing out fire, casting an orange glow onto dusty streets. The flames reach out to him, long fingers filled with grief, despair, agony.

He steps back.

What have I done?

On certain doors of the sagging huts there are large blood smears, as though they were put there on purpose. From one of the doors, not marked with blood, his twin emerges. The wet, black hair hangs in his face, white teeth glinting in the dark as an evil grin spreads over his horrible face. Screams erupt from the mud hut. Then another hut. And another. It continues on, the whole village in pain, crying out. The anguish of grieving mothers, the despair of mourning fathers.

His twin comes toward him, closer and closer. He holds onto a scythe dripping with blood.

Sebastian glances down at his arm. Something warm and wet covers his skin. His eyes open wider as he sees the scythe in front of him, blood dripping from the blade and down the handle to his hands. He tries to scream, but nothing comes out.

Throw it away. Get rid of it.
But the scythe is stuck to him, stuck with blood. He tries to scream again.

Buuuuzzz
.

His twin stands in front of him, gazing at him curiously. His hand comes up, a finger. The twin points at Sebastian, accusing. Sebastian closes his eyes.
Stop
, he screams inside his head.
Stop!

The screams from the village keep coming.

Buuuuzzz
.

Sebastian opens his eyes.

His twin is gone. In his place is Mr. Thompson. He’s younger, dressed differently, and covered in mud. He wears a periwinkle blue peasant shirt. Mr. Thompson gazes at him, concern on his face, but still pointing at him, his finger dripping blood.

“It’s you,” Mr. Thompson says. “Don’t you remember?”

Buuuuzzz
.

Sebastian jolted awake and sat upright in his bed, chest pounding, hands shaking, forehead laced with sweat. He tried to slow his breathing with steady breaths.