Silence (42 page)

“
Back ‘atchya,” Indigo
retorted.

But Sheikoh could tell that the
ganglord wasn’t in a bad mood at all. In fact, it looked like
Indigo was having the time of his life. Sheikoh wound the gloves
around his fists, and then the helmet and shoes that Indigo tossed
his way. Even though they were light, they felt clunky and slow. He
had to admit, the idea of beating his frustration out on Indigo was
an appealing one.

“
Ready when you are,”
Indigo challenged.

“
Back ‘atchya,” Sheikoh
mocked.

He flexed his hands inside of the
gloves, positive this would end with his first strike. A one-way
sudden death. Sheikoh leapt at Indigo arm outstretched, going for
the midair clothesline. He saw Indigo tighten, but it was too slow
to dodge. Sheikoh had already won this little match.

Only he hadn’t.

He realized this when Indigo managed
to catch his arm. The ganglord swung Sheikoh in a few dizzy
circles, before letting him fly back against the wall. His body
squeaked against it, bouncing him back towards the soft floor.
Sheikoh spun to land on his feet with almost catlike grace. The
effect was wasted on Indigo, who was laughing slightly too hard to
have noticed.

In the spirit of mostly fair play,
Sheikoh gave Indigo a second to regain control of himself. But the
ganglord’s laughter didn’t show any sign of dying. Sheikoh decided
to take the opening. He streamed towards Indigo, leveling a good
old-fashioned punch at the ganglord’s midriff.

But at the point of no return, when
his whole body was behind the blow, Indigo’s laughter cut off. He
noticed menacing concentration hardening the ganglord’s face. The
next instant, an elbow flipped Sheikoh into spinning air. Sheikoh
managed to regain control. He bounded off the wall, blasting back
at Indigo. Just in time to face-plant the ganglord’s
punch.

Sheikoh smacked back against the wall
onto the ground. When his head cleared of the cloud of dizziness
cleared away. He brought a finger to his searing nose. When he
pulled it away, his fingers gleamed with fresh with blood. He hoped
that the glove had softened that blow enough to have kept his nose
from breaking. It didn’t feel like it.

Training his eyes on the grinning
ganglord, Sheikoh flicked up to his feet and fell into a wary
crouch. He knew what Indigo was doing. He knew that the ganglord
was taking advantage of his overconfidence and anger. The thought
flared with annoyance, but Sheikoh pushed it back down his chest
and took a deep breath. He had to change his strategy
up.

He began stalking towards Indigo,
sacrificing his earlier rush for control. The ganglord grinned at
him and contorted his body into a fluid stance he’d never seen
before. But it didn’t matter. Sheikoh had Indigo figured out. He
was about to pay his bleeding nose back.

And then some.

Sheikoh blurred forward, feinting a
punch. Then he ducked to swipe Indigo’s legs from beneath him. But
met his kick with another. It came at a ridiculous angle and
managed to knock the cyborgic strike away. Sheikoh could tell that
Indigo had put his weight behind it. He was probably
off-balance.

Sheikoh slashed another devastating
kick upwards. Indigo leaned out of its arc, and, in the same
movement, pushed Sheikoh into a backwards somersault. Indigo
stumbled slightly longer than Sheikoh, who was back on his feet
within a graceful instant. He charged Indigo, pressing the
off-balance ganglord. There was nothing Indigo could do.

Except apparently there was. Somehow,
the ganglord managed another of those peculiar, body hammer blows,
knocking Sheikoh’s fist away. Both of them stumbled for two
seconds, trading weak jabs and slaps with no authority.

Then Sheikoh regained balance. Indigo
was still reeling. He hit the ganglord in the chest with his right
hand, blasting a single spot with three massive punches. Indigo
didn’t even have time to cannon back; the flurry was faster than a
regular human’s single one.

But Indigo had an ankle wrapped around
Sheikoh’s. Like he’d anticipated this. When the ganglord was
knocked back, Sheikoh stumbled forward as well. And Indigo
recovered much faster this time. He was on Sheikoh the next moment.
Indigo was weaker than Sheikoh. And far, far slower. But he still
had almost half a foot of reach, weight and a form eclectic,
unpredictable, and aimed at Sheikoh’s weak side. Indigo was almost
holding his own against him.

Until Sheikoh finally caught the
ganglord’s ankle, then knocked him to the dirt. He stood above
Indigo gasping. The muscles on his left side were burning, and he
was acutely aware of the fact that he hadn’t worked out the muscles
in almost two weeks. In between gasps of pain and exhaustion,
Indigo moaned out a weak laugh.

“
How did you do that?”
Sheikoh panted.

“
You’re no fighter, kid...
You never learned,” Indigo gasped back, face flickering between
agony and satisfaction. “You never learned... to hide your
rhythm...”

“
What are you talking
about?” Sheikoh asked derisively, rubbing his shoulder.

It took a while for Indigo to answer.
But after lying on the ground for about ten minutes, the ganglord
pushed himself up into a cross-legged sitting position. Splotchy
bruises covered the ganglord’s ebony skin, and both his nostrils
and lips were bleeding heavily. Apparently, the mini boxing gloves
hadn’t softened his blows much. Sheikoh knew he should feel guilty,
but he couldn’t hide a small smile.   

“
You’ve never fought anyone
as strong as you,” Indigo explained softly.

“
Khryzt was way stronger
than me,” responded Sheikoh emphatically.

“
That…
thing,
” Indigo’s face curled with
disgust. “Never fought before. It was blood raw.”

Sheikoh nodded slowly. It was
true.

“
You rely
on your metal and motors,” Indigo went on. “You got more experience
than Khryzt, but you’re really the same. Fighting is all strength
and speed to you. But speed doesn’t matter when I know where you’re
going to hit me. And when you underestimated me, you
gave
me your
rhythm.”

Sheikoh kept nodding through Indigo’s
talk, wearing an expression of deep contemplation.

“
Either that…” He frowned
thoughtfully. “Or Mr. Crankypants is a sore loser.”

Indigo fell back onto the floor with
an annoyed grunt.

The next day, Sheikoh had even more to
think about. He spent the morning alone in his room, as usual.
Eventually, He sat back in his bed, leaning up against a mountain
of pillows, and tried to distract his whirling thoughts with a TV
show. The main character’s wrap-up was suddenly interrupted by a
high voice.

“
That was so messed up,” it
said.

Sheikoh whipped around, dropping the
bottle opener that his fingers had been unconsciously playing with.
The voice’s owner was gazing at him icily, twisting a lock of
curly, brown hair around a finger where she stood in the
doorway.

“
Dorothi,” Sheikoh
murmured, at once relieved and anxious.

“
Why would you keep that
from me?” Dorothi demanded angrily. “Why didn’t you tell
me?”

“
Why
didn’t I..? Dorothi, I had no idea
how
to tell you,” Sheikoh responded
fervently, flipping hair from his face. “What would you have
thought if I told you, ‘oh yeah, by the way don’t be surprised if
Emili pops up one day. I accidentally summoned a demon into her,
but me and Camil-
Dream
, decided to just bring her back to life and
all’?”

“
I would’ve believed you!”
Dorothi cried back.

Sheikoh looked at her sparkling eyes
for a long moment, and she looked back at him. After a second, her
neck bent to break their brief eye-contact.

“
Really..?” Sheikoh
murmured softly. Dorothi bit her lower lip and let her eyes fall to
the ground.

“
I thought… I don’t know, I
thought that you just wanted Emili to yourself. Like… Memories of
those times when we were younger, back when I was in the way, they
kept flashing through my head. It was all I could think about…”
Dorothi trailed off, swallowing loudly.

Sheikoh’s heart wrenched painfully at
her words, at the sight of her bowed head, shrouded in clouds of
wavy hair, at the tears threatening to choke her voice. He walked
up to Dorothi and wrapped her slim shoulders into a full body hug,
resting a hand on the back of her head. A sob wracked her small
body, so he pulled her closer and twined his fingers through locks
of her hair comfortingly.

“
Do-do,
I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you straight off. I’m so
so
sorry. You have to
believe me; I’d
never
do that to you. Never ever ever,” Sheikoh whispered into her
hair as he hugged Dorothi against his chest. Then he pulled from
the embrace to look into her red, tear-dampened face.

“
Dorothi, I love you.
You’re my sister, my conscience… my daughter. You have absolutely
no idea what you mean to me. All I wanted, all I ever wanted was to
protect you from me. This all is so impossible… I guess that I
didn’t want your hopes to be crushed… Understand?” Sheikoh
explained with soft sincerity.

Dorothi nodded tentatively, still
sniffling. Sheikoh pulled her back against his chest and held her
for all that he was worth, gently rubbing her head. The eleven year
old gradually regained her composure. When she eventually pulled
back to look into Sheikoh’s face, her expression was arranged in
wary hope.

“
Do you… Do you really
think that Mr. Dream might be able to bring her back?” Dorothi
asked him tentatively. Sheikoh brushed his fingers through her
hair, his face thoughtful.

“
I really hope so,” he
admitted eventually.

They sat there, silent and unmoving
for a short while, leaning against one another. Sheikoh stroked
Dorothi’s hair while his thoughts wandered hypothetical courses
through their reunion with Emili. He pulled Dorothi back into his
arms and hugged her tightly.

He really did hope so. And not just
for his own sake.

Sheikoh’s worries crystallized into
the chill air of next day’s night. He lay asleep in his room,
curled up in the bed that he’d dragged out of the room across the
hall. His gentle breathing sighed as he shifted on the comfortable
mattress. Now that Dorothi had moved into the room beside him,
Sheikoh could finally sleep.

He woke up to the sound of his door
creaking open just before dawn. Sheikoh‘s eyes flicked open and any
tiredness was scattered before his razor-sharp instincts. He easily
made out the shadowy figure creeping across the shadow-strewn
carpet. Sheikoh rolled and grasped the hilt of the pistol hidden
under his pillow, wondering whether he should shoot or ask
questions first.

“
Sheikoh?” whispered a
familiar voice.

The types of people that encouraged
one to sleep with a gun under one’s pillow usually didn’t sneak
into their victim’s rooms to whisper the poor guy’s name. Besides,
wasn’t this castle supposed to be inaccessible? Sheikoh suddenly
placed the voice with its owner. He rolled over and flicked the
switch to his bedside lamp (stolen out of another room) and looked
over at the figure, rubbing his puffy eyes. It was Camillio
Tyche.

“
Is this
some kind of…
dream
?” Sheikoh giggled sleepily.
The Celestial ignored him.

“
I’ve done it,” Camillio
whispered excitedly. “I’ve solved it.”

For a moment, Sheikoh didn’t
understand what Camillio was saying. He ran a hand through his
rumpled, black hair with a yawn, before he realized what the
Celestial was referring to. His eyes widened in surprise. He bolted
from the tangled net of sheets and covered and stared at The
Celestial beseechingly. Camillio bobbed his head, wearing a manic
grin.

“
Emili…?” Sheikoh croaked
out. Camillio nodded even faster.

The Celestial beckoned him to the
door. Sheikoh followed Camillio with an energetic spring in his
step as though he’d gotten eight hours of sleep instead of two.
They went down a hallway that intersected the staircase that wound
around the tank of plant-filled water. Once there, Camillio turned
to face Sheikoh.

“
I finished my translations
and perfected the blood pentacles that should restore Emili!”
Camillio explained with sparkling eyes that mirrored the lights in
Sheikoh’s own.

“
You mean
that you can finally get that
thing
out of her?” Sheikoh wondered
aloud in a tone of desperate excitement.

His eyes caught the split second that
Camillio’s smile slipped, and he closed his eyes with a curse.
 Sheikoh’s hopeful expression dropped to the weariness beneath
in an instant. He blinked his tired eyes back open and fixed them
on Camillio. The Celestial’s jaw hung open like he was trying to
vomit out the right words.

“
Something’s wrong,”
Sheikoh inferred tonelessly. “You aren’t sure that Emili’s going to
survive, right? Are you, Old man?”