Chapter 9

CHAPTER 9


Nick’s eyes practically pop out of his head when he sees me come into the shop with Lucas. It takes the two of us some time to get there, of course, what with washing the blood off our skin, concealing weapons, and whipping up a spell from the grimoire to cancel out the carpet stain. By the time we finally enter the shop, he and Antonio are seated at the counter, heads together, poring over the encyclopedia-sized coffee menu.

While Nick shouts out an enthusiastic greeting, he is looking past me at the stranger by my side. To be fair, Lucas is looking pretty good for a guy who was dead not twenty minutes ago. I would probably stare too if we weren’t bound by blood. Also, there is the fact that Nick has never seen me hanging out with a guy other than himself. It’s a lot of surprises for one evening.

“Hey, Nick. Antonio. This is Lucas. He’s working here at the shop.” Nick’s body language relaxes as he realizes I haven’t been holding out on him. “I was just showing him around.”

Lucas makes a little strangled sound behind me, then steps up with his hand extended. He greets Nick, then Antonio.

“I hope you guys don’t mind me hanging out with you tonight.”

“Lucas is new to the neighborhood so rather than subject him to an evening of Miranda…”

“...and Graham,” Nicks adds, knowing. “Definitely. Come with. We were planning on shooting some pool, you cool with that?”

Lucas is definitely not cool and the idea of such a word coming out of his mouth almost makes me laugh.

“Sounds fun. Thanks. Just let me grab my jacket.” I forget that he can sound normal. “Tristan? You need anything?” The pointed way he looks at me makes it clear he’s not talking about mittens. As instructed upstairs, however, I’ve put on an unbloodied black hoodie that comes down past my butt so I can hide the ancient weapon belted onto my waist.

“I have everything I need, thanks.”

Lucas pauses a beat to make sure we’re on the same wavelength, then steps out of the room. He no doubt wants to go over the arsenal one more time.

“Please tell me you are over this ridiculous oath,” Nick says the second Lucas is out of sight.

“He is totally hot,” Antonio observes.

“Totally,” Nick agrees. “So? What’s the story?”

“I told you the story. He’s working here.”

Nick and Antonio exchange a look. I like how, in the span of a few hours, these two have started reading one another’s minds.

“I hope you’re working,” Nick announces.

“As in working on him,” Antonio adds.

I suppose that without the backstory of Rippers and Watchers and enchanted daggers, it would seem natural for me to be interested in Lucas. Insisting that I’m not is only going to raise suspicion.

I turn the thought over briefly in my head. It’s not like I’m never exposed to good looking guys. But what’s on the inside is not always as pretty as what’s on the outside. Somehow not knowing what lurks under Lucas’ surface does make him a lot more attractive. Still, he’s here to do a job, to help me to survive - or not - and to hit reset once the two of us part ways. Getting attached to him as anything more than a partner in this mess would probably be one of the more stupid things I’ve ever done.

That said, I need to get these two and their staring, puppy dog eyes out of my face.

“Listen, let’s not make it too obvious, OK?”

They grin like idiots.

“Finally.” Nick makes me high five him.

“Yeah, well we’ll see. Guys aren’t exactly breaking down the door to get close to me,” I remind him.

Nick drops his head to the side. “Only because they don’t know you the way I do.”

Antonio shakes his head in agreement like he knows anything at all about me.

“Promise me you two will keep it together,” I order.

The two of them make a crossing motion over their hearts just as Lucas returns buttoning up his pea coat.

I shout a goodbye to Nana in the kitchen and the four of us head out.

The streets of Astoria are crammed with the last of Saturday shoppers and all the people starting to go out. Our destination is the bar/pool place a few blocks down. They’ll let us stay until midnight, after which anyone without an ID will get kicked out.

Nick and Antonio walk side-by-side up ahead of me and Lucas. I’m sure they’ve both conspired to make sure Lucas has to stay next to me and talk and find out what a delight I am.

“Is that your doing?” Lucas asks, jerking his head toward the two of them.

“Technically I just gave them a boost. It doesn’t work if they’re not actually meant to be together.”

“They seem happy,” he reflects.

I agree. “Are you sure they’re going to be safe?” The thought of what could happen, of blood stained carpets and black auras, makes my stomach plunge.

“I’ll do my best,” he answers. I know he’s just saying what I want to hear; that, in the end, I’m the one he’ll try to save. “And just to be clear, I can’t sense the danger myself, I feel what you feel. The Rippers aren’t terribly subtle in general, but be alert nonetheless. No matter where you are or what I’m doing, I’ll know if you need me.”

The thought of encountering that black presence again, even with - especially with - other people around me is enough to make me want to turn back and hide. It’s too late to get out of this, though. The best I can do is to be sure I don’t get anyone killed in the process. Even Lucas, the one who says it is his job to risk his life for me. Who would think a thing like that is OK? I may not know the guy well, but I certainly can’t be responsible for his death. So I’ll just have to be sure we all stay alive.

I’m not entirely unaware of the auras swirling around me. They hang like a pastel fog, fairly pleasant, fairly neutral, a Saturday night kind of thing. Later, when the alcohol is flowing, that will start to change. Fights will brew, bad feelings will get unleashed. That’s usually about the time I want to be home, away from the messiness of people’s emotions.

I notice Antonio and Nick’s auras have deepened since the last time I saw them together in the shop. The blue anxiety is missing, but the love and hormone elements are more pronounced. They laugh and bump shoulders as we pull up in front of the pool place.

“They’ll be OK,” Lucas says quietly.

“Is that a guarantee or wishful thinking?” I ask.

“That’s an agreement to do our best.”

Inside the place is already packed, like everyone between the ages of sixteen and twenty-one is trying to cram in some excitement before getting kicked out and heading for less legal forms of entertainment.

The four of us maneuver through crowds of people all competing to make the most noise and head toward a table in the back. Lucas glances at me and I slide in against the wall so I can see the entire room. The last thing I need is someone sneaking up on me.

Antonio and Nick flip through the menu. Nick and I usually start with food and drinks and then head back to the back to impress one another with our mediocre pool skills. Well, mine are mediocre. He’s actually pretty good - especially when he lets me win.

“You want something to drink?” Lucas asks.

I do, but none of these super sweet concoctions is what I have in mind. Time to find out how much mind-bending skill I really possess.

“I’ll get it. You?”

He shrugs. “Anything.” Meaning he has no intention of drinking it, he just wants to appear normal while he scans the crowd for killers.

“Come on, Nick.” Nick slides out of the booth and the two of us make our way through the mass of sweaty underdressed teens.

There’s a bar set up for the early part of the evening: nonalcoholic drinks for us, alcohol for people with IDs. There’s also a guy checking those IDs with a mini flashlight.

“I think we’re going to share one of those giant milkshake things,” Nick notes as we push ourselves forward.

I wrinkle my nose. “That ginormous jug of ice cream and milk with cereal on the outside?”

“I want the one with crushed cookies,” he observes, ignoring my grimace. “Why? What are you having?”

Alcohol. That is what I want. Not enough to get wasted, just enough to take the edge off, to help me forget the more gruesome parts of this day and my new life. I need something that will make my hands stop shaking without dulling my reflexes.

“I don’t know. It’s been a little bit of a rough day,” I share.

Nick reaches over and takes my hand between both of his. “You should’ve called. I would’ve come over.” He throws a glance over his shoulder. “Does it have anything to do with him? I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have teased you. Do I need to hurt him?”

The sincerity in his brown eyes has me caught between wanting to cry and wanting to laugh. The idea of my sweet, soccer playing best friend taking on a trained killer strapped down with blades emphasizes the new craziness of my world.

I go with laughing. “No. Seriously. He’s fine.” I measure out how much I can tell him. In spite of our having spent our entire lives together, there are some parts of what we do that I am under strict orders to keep secret. I assume that being some kind of Super Seeker chased by insane Rippers falls into the secret category.

“The aunts came over like super early.”

He rolls his eyes. “You do need a drink. What now?”

I shrug. “Just the usual craziness. I just wish they’d leave us alone and stick with ripping off the Brooklynites.”

“Poor thing. So what will it be? Shots?” He pats his pocket. “Damn. I forgot my ID.” His fake ID. But I don’t need that. I have other things in mind.

“Nah. Maybe just a cocktail.” Vodka’s sounding like a good plan right about now. “I can handle it.” He looks at me, then glances at the bartender. Understanding spreads across his face. He’s never seen me do anything like this, but won’t question my ability to do it.

“I promised Antonio the shake, but feel free to throw a cocktail into the mix,” he grins.”He and I will share one.”

“You handle the sugar,” I instruct. “Let’s see what magic I can whip up.”

Before stepping up to the bar, I pull my hair out of its messy bun and arrange the curls over my shoulders. Knowing what guys are feeling, I’ve had a fair amount of success getting what I want without supernatural trickery.

There are two bartenders on duty tonight and, naturally, it’s the female who steps up to take my order. Her aura indicates I’m not her type. I order three house special cocktails, a mix of booze infused gummy bears and vodka and some other stuff. She smirks and tilts her head to the side, suggesting my request is adorable.

“You have ID, hun?”

“ID? What would I need ID for?”

I reach around into the bartender’s mind. She doesn’t believe me and is already bored with kids trying to get away with underage drinking. She can’t understand why the owner came up with this idea of a bar that let kids in for half the evening. It’s an invitation to trouble. Besides, she’s sick of our noise and our attitudes and our pretending to be more mature than we really are. Like this girl in front of her. Who does she think she’s fooling? She looks all of fifteen.

The bartender looks me over, taking in my small frame, the spray of freckles across my nose. Not only is she not impressed, she’s also on her way to being very aggravated. If she has her way, she’ll get the guy checking IDs to kick me out.

Not so fast.

I grab hold of her last thought. Closing my eyes for the briefest of minutes, I feel myself taking control. I whisper what I want into her mind using only my thoughts. I don’t touch her. I don’t say anything.

She wavers, losing the thread of what she wanted to say. I see her shake her head, trying to remember what she intended to do. She opens her mouth, the words right there, ready. I push them out of her head, replacing them with my own.

“Sorry. What was that again?” she says.

Victory. My heart pounds and fingers tremble. I can’t believe I did it. It was so incredibly easy, just pushing aside one person’s thoughts and replacing them with my own. Why didn’t I try this years ago? My whole life - from school, to friends, to finances - could have been different. I laugh a little breathlessly as she splashes alcohol into three glasses.

Nick is a few patrons away, leaning on the bar watching cookies get crumbled into his drink. He turns and laughs, giving me a thumbs up. I laugh in return, feeling a buzz from the energy of my magic.

“What the hell was that?”

Lucas. He stands behind me looking way more pissed than impressed.

“What was what?”

He scowls, standing over me. “You know I can feel when you use…” he considers the bartender’s proximity, “it, right?”

“What’s the big deal?” I ask, annoyed that he’s ruining my moment. “I would have used my fake ID if I’d remember. It’s not like I plan on getting wasted. It’s one drink.”

Lucas gets closer, so close his chest hits mine when he takes a breath. “I don’t give a shit about the drinking,” he growls. “But I’m not the only one who can feel your magic. Why don’t you just jump up on a table and dare them to come find you?”

High officially ruined.

I open my mouth. Close it again. He’s right. Of course he’s right.

He shakes his head and takes a step back. “Try not to go out of your way to get yourself killed.”

The bartender lines the drinks up on the bar. There’s a lost, panicked look in her eyes like she knows something has happened to her, but she can’t quite say what.

“Also.” Lucas starts reprimanding me again, just when I thought we were done. “That’s a really shitty thing to do to a person.” It occurs to me that it’s twice in one conversation he’s cursed at me. I truly do bring out the best in people.

I know I should apologize. It was wrong to get in this woman’s mind, especially for something so stupid. But right now, I’m pretty sick of people telling me what to do - the aunts, Miranda, now Lucas. I want to swallow my drink, feel the burn as it goes down, and the buzz as it hits my bloodstream. Most of all, I want to get out of my own head for a few minutes.

I pay for the drinks and leave an extra large tip by way of apology.

Lucas scoops up all three glasses and heads back through the room. I feel him reaching back, stretching our bond. He’s wondering if I’ll follow. I consider leaving him there, slipping out into the cold and the dark, gaining myself a couple of minutes of peace.

True crime TV lessons flood the rational part of my brain, pointing out that separating me from my Watcher might be exactly what the Rippers want. And while I don’t sense them around, that doesn’t mean they aren’t waiting. Besides, I promised Lucas I wouldn’t ditch him. So I don’t.

At the table, Lucas runs a hand over his face. He looks exhausted and older than the Lucas who came into the shop for cupcakes.

“I’m sorry,” I mutter. As much as it hurts my pride to apologize, I was wrong. “You’re right. I wasn’t thinking.”

Lucas nods and fishes gummy bears out of his drink, dumping them onto a napkin.

“I don’t want to be right,” he says. “I just want you to be safe.” He downs the drink in one swallow.

I frown at him. Should my Watcher be drinking?

“Slow down there,” I suggest.

He snorts. “Don’t worry about me. Worry about yourself.”

Nick returns carrying his oversized shake, dripping with whipped cream and sprinkles and cookie crumbs. He sits and takes a sip of the drink I’ve gotten him.

“Where’s Antonio?” he asks, looking around.

Antonio. I hadn’t even noticed. His phone is on top of the table, his jacket draped over the chair.

“Bathroom?” I suggest.

Nick looks at Lucas to confirm.

“Sorry, dude,” he says. “He was here when I left.” Bathroom sounds like a totally reasonable explanation, but I notice Lucas is scanning the room. He looks at me as if to ask if I sense anything. I shake my head. All quiet.

Nick alternates sips of shake and sips of vodka, careful to leave some of both to share with Antonio. The alcohol loosens him up and soon he is asking Lucas a whole slew of questions about where he’s come from, what he’s been doing, and how long he’s planning on hanging around.

Lucas lies smoothly, the corner of his mouth quirked up as he realizes my friend is trying to protect me.

“You’re friends of the aunts?” Nick asks, incredulous. “I didn’t think anyone was friends with those - ladies.”

“Not friends, exactly,” Lucas clarifies. “They took me on to help them with some stuff around the house and ended up keeping me around - like a lost puppy, I guess.” He laughs and flashes him the kind of smile that transforms him from goodlooking to gorgeous.

“Not fair,” I mutter behind the rim of my glass.

Nick looks away, his eyes falling on Antonio’s phone.

“You think he’s OK?” Nick asks me. “Maybe I should go check? I mean that’s stupid - he’s a big boy - but he’s been gone a long time.”

Not stupid. Not stupid at all.

The air around me darkens. A wave of emotion rolls toward me and I instinctively jerk to the side. Lucas reaches for me under the table, squeezing just above my knee. I nod. Another surge of negativity flies toward me from somewhere in the back near the pool room. Instead of moving out of the way or letting it hit me, I try something new. I wrap my mind around the energy, control it, and send it back where it came from. When nothing hits me, I figure it works.

Almost.

The room itself becomes shadowy, dark as though everything is wrapped in the power of the Ripper. I check Nick. He sits frozen, mouth open like he was in the middle of saying something. The bartender I’d annoyed earlier pours a drink, the liquid hanging in midair. Everyone else, the entire wall-to-wall crowd of people, is in the same suspended state.

Lucas jumps up, immune to whatever is going on. He pulls the blades out from inside his sleeves, holding them ready in his fists.

“Do you know exactly where they are?” he asks, his eyes roving over every shadowy corner.

A gust of icy air blows in from the back where the pool tables are located. It’s always darker in there than in the restaurant, but now, it’s completely devoid of light, of noise.

“My guess would be the pool room.”

Another stream of darkness billows toward me. Again, I wrap my mind around it and thrust it back, faster and with more power than before. My own magic responds to the threat and begins to pour into me, gathering in my core and surging into my limbs. It’s similar to what happened when I was wrestling with Lucas, but on steroids, like my whole being understands this is the real deal. My heart pounds in response to the increase in energy, but it isn’t panic I feel, it’s strength. I am The One. I am The Seeker.

Lucas knocks the table out of his way. It falls slowly as though it’s tumbling through honey. When the glasses hit the floor, they shatter silently. He steps in front of me.

“If they try to take you,” he explains, “use all of your power against them. Concentrate on turning your magic into a single shaft and aim it at the Ripper. Don’t worry about the drones. They can’t hurt you, only slow you down enough to let the Ripper gain access. I’ll take care of them. You understand?”

I don’t know how, but I do.

I also know that I don’t want to wait here and be ambushed. If I’m going to confront the Ripper, I’m going to do it on my own terms. I make myself still, transcending the beating of my heart and the pulsing of my magic. I concentrate. I feel.

Even in the darkness, there is a darker patch, like a black hole. It creates its own energy and draws in the energy of everything around it. All of these people, kids really, their energy is fueling him, giving the Ripper strength. He drains it from them like an old cell phone and its battery. Their slow, almost non-existent movements aren’t just an illusion, they’re the result of having their lives squeezed from them to nourish the stream of evil he flings in front of him.

My own power is completely unabated. I don’t know if I’m unconsciously doing the same thing to the kids around me, using their strength to fuel my own, but I can’t stop to think about it. I only know that I have to move forward.

Weaving my way around the nearly motionless bodies, I head straight for the blackest part of the room, forcing myself through wave after wave of despair, depression, agony. A girl with purple hair, shifts her eyes toward me at impossibly slow speed. I wonder if she can see this, if any of them will remember what’s happened here tonight.

Knocking a shaft of utter despondency out of my face, I take a step into the pool room and scan the crowd. There are fewer people in here, each one nearly frozen in whatever position he was in before the Rippers blew into town. A ball rolls almost imperceptibly toward the hole, silently clanking against another ball on the way.

My eye catches on a sliver of light somewhere toward the back, something that doesn’t fit.

“Back there,” I tell Lucas.

“I’ll go first and scope it out. Clean up anyone in the way.”

“No,” I answer. “I’ll go. We need to get this over with.”

But neither one of us needs to move.

One after the other, the kids in front of us drop slowly to the floor. They wobble like bowling pins and down they go. Thanks to the slo-mo, it seems unlikely that anyone is getting injured.

Into the path the falling bodies clear, I see two people, not much older than me, approaching at normal pace. Right away I notice that neither one of them has an aura which is unexpected since the Rippers I’ve encountered had auras that screamed at me, that were thrusting their powerful negativity into the atmosphere not two minutes ago.

“Drones,” Lucas mutters. “Ignore them. The real problem is still out there. This is just a distraction.”

Except this is a real problem because the drones have not arrived on their own. Being dragged between them, looking totally lifeless is Antonio. Nick’s Antonio.

The panic kicks in and I can feel my strength waver, retreat.

Lucas feels it too.

“No,” he growls at me. “That’s exactly what they want. Do not let them throw you, understand?”

My breath is shallow, coming in gasps. I feel like I might pass out.

“He’s fine,” Lucas says, although I have no idea where he’s getting the basis for this statement. “But you will not be fine if you allow them to distract you with trickery.”

Medieval Lucas has returned, I note.

But Medieval Lucas’ tone impresses me and I snap out of my momentary panic.

“Show yourself,” I shout to the room.

The drones hesitate at the sound of my voice like they’re waiting for instructions. I guess they receive them from some unknown source, because they continue moving toward me, dropping Antonio at my feet.

Up close, I see that these two really are just teenagers, a black guy and a white girl with dreads that need work. They look like anybody I’d see on the sidewalk, in the subway, at school. Except for their eyes. Their eyes are almost completely colorless, an icy blue, so pale as to be almost white, the pupils pinpoints, but this isn’t opioids, this is magic. It’s the kind of magic that wipes out an aura, a life force, a soul.

Before I can make a move, Lucas’ blades arc through the air and he drops one drone, then the other. Blood pools around them. My breath catches and my mind buzzes with the repeated refrain, “He just killed two kids. He just killed two kids.”

“They were no kids,” Lucas assures me. Without looking away from the corners of the room, he bends down and feels for Antonio’s pulse. “He’ll be fine.” He sheaths one knife and lifts Antonio up against his side, dragging him toward a pool table.

I swallow hard and try to refocus.

“Tristan,” the Ripper is in front of me before I’ve noticed so much as a waver in the darkness around me. “Ah. Well, that’s quite a shame, isn’t it?” He pokes at the bodies with the toe of his boot.

This is the closest the Ripper has ever been to me before and I fight against the waves of pure agony that radiate from him. He towers over me, taller than Lucas even, but it isn’t his height that makes my knees shake. It is the total blankness of his eyes, the reflection of an entirely empty soul, that does me in.

Without removing his eyes from mine, the Ripper kicks both bodies aside.

“I told you we would meet again,” he says. “I apologize for the dramatics, but I do love an entrance. It’s so effective in communicating my intent, don’t you think?”

I take a breath and concentrate on the energy pulsing in my fingertips. I can no doubt hit him from here, but I’m not sure what effect it will have. A guy this imposing - physically, emotionally - isn’t likely to be taken down that easily. And then what? If I mess up, if I miss, will he kill me? Or Lucas?

“I assume that since our last meeting your family has had a chance to discuss your very special set of powers with you.”

I work to control my breathing, to speak with strength, and to hide my sheer terror at what’s going on around me.

“They have.”

“And I’m sure that they did not paint a very positive picture of me, did they?”

“That’s something I’m capable of figuring out on my own.”

“Of course. But you know, Tristan, your family has not been truthful with you, have they? They hadn’t told you about your abilities before they were forced to. Don’t you think, perhaps, that they would have kept it from you forever? And why?”

It seems like a rhetorical question, but he waits, no doubt hoping I will dig myself into a hole of some kind.

“Because they don’t want you to be powerful - surely not more powerful than they. It’s their way of ensuring that they can keep you in check.”

There’s a certain logic to what he’s saying, a ring of truth that reflects what I’d been thinking myself, even if it was only for a minute.

“Tristan,” Lucas warns from next to me.

The Ripper laughs. “Do you doubt me?”

I lift my head. “Well you are a liar,” I state.

“Then allow me to provide you with proof. It’s right beside you in the form of your Watcher.” He turns to face Lucas who stands next to me, the blades back in his hands. “Ah Lucas. I assume you hadn’t expected us to meet again so soon. Neither did I, truth be told. Certainly not after what happened last time. Don’t they usually retire Watchers like you? Let them fade away as it were. It is nearly shocking, in fact, that they would entrust such an important charge to you.”

I know I shouldn’t listen. Everything this creature says is a lie of the blackest kind, a trick to make me doubt myself, my family, Lucas. But I can’t help it. I look over at Lucas and when he won’t look at me in return, I know that not everything I’m hearing is untrue.

“Lucas?” I whisper.

He wavers, his eyes avoiding mine. Shit.

“Allow me to provide you with proof,” the Ripper says smoothly. “Simply take his hand.”

A muscle jumps in Lucas’ jaw, the bounding artery in his neck betraying his emotions. He does not, he cannot, look at me.

“Tristan,” he whispers hoarsely. It is a prayer. No, it is begging.

But I am The One. And I am unmoved.

I reach out and take his hand in mine, the blade clattering to the ground.

The room around us falls away and Lucas is no longer at my side. I am in a wide open area, shadowy but not dark. It is industrial. Columns are spaced around the room at regular intervals. Loose wires hang from the ceiling. I am in a warehouse, I think.

I walk forward scanning the area. Weak daylight streams in through windows high up in the concrete walls, casting gray tones over everything. I’m not sure what goes on in this place but it’s pretty dead right now.

I keep going like a character in an FPS game, but without a weapon for when something jumps out in front of me. My footsteps echo on the concrete. This is quite possibly the least menacing place I’ve been in lately, but I know I wouldn’t be here if the Ripper didn’t want to make a point, a point that has something to do with Lucas.

Rounding a corner, I grunt, exasperated at the sight of more columns and blanks walls and dangling wires. And then, something changes. I stop walking and listen. There’s a sound somewhere up ahead. A groaning, moaning noise uttered by someone in pain. I close my eyes and concentrate. This isn’t the sound of physical pain, this is someone in agony. Pure, emotional distress.

Following the sound of ragged breathing punctuated by a deep keening, I turn another corner and find, there ahead of me, a body crouched on the floor. Even from behind, I know it is Lucas. His shoulders shake as he bends over the floor.

I’m not sure what this is, if I am now part of his memory, or if I am just an observer. Still, I can’t just passively watch him in this condition. I step forward and lay my hand on his shoulder, whispering his name.

He turns to look at me, recognition lighting his face.

“Tristan,” he begs again. “Please. You shouldn’t...you can’t see this…”

He angles his body so that whatever is going on in front of him is shielded from me.

I don’t want to hurt him, but I won’t let myself be fooled either. I need to know what this is. What the Ripper wanted me to know. What Lucas doesn’t want me to know.

“I have to,” I whisper, and push him aside to peer over his shoulder.

It’s a move I regret instantaneously. A body lies on the floor in front of him, curling black hair sprayed out in an arc around her head, matted and tangled in the great puddle of blood that flows from her neck. Her arms and legs are twisted in grotesque angles. Skin that white, I observe, is just not right. But nothing about this scene is right.

I look at Lucas and he hides his face in his shoulder. This is his Seeker. His last Seeker. I’m not sure how I know it, but I do. This is the one who “ditched” him as he made me swear I would not.

“And this,” the voice of the Ripper breaks into the vision, “is the Watcher with whom you were provided. Does it seem like such a person would be capable of protecting you? And if not, then what are they after?”

We’re back in the pool hall, everything exactly as it was minutes ago.

Lucas stands next to me, his eyes trained on the floor. A nuclear bomb could go off in this place and he wouldn’t look at me.

“Your point?” I ask the Ripper.

“Just this: that you consider well the situation in which you find yourself. Your family would have you believe that they have your best interests in mind and yet they deny you the very power that makes you who you are. Then, when confronted with the real possibility of your being in danger from,” he bows, “yours truly, they send you a subpar Watcher whose last Seeker was slaughtered before his very eyes. Surely if they wished to protect you, they would have found you someone more competent.”

HIs words worm their way into my consciousness, telling me that there is some truth there. It’s not the whole truth, of course. Nothing this monster says is the whole truth. But he’s not entirely wrong either.

I do still have a few molecules of common sense left in my being and agreeing with a Ripper and letting myself be carried off to his lair to live happily ever after, harnessing my power to wreak havoc does not seem to be the way to go.

“Again, what’s your point? I’m pretty sure you didn’t come here to show me what a shitty Watcher I have so I can fire him.”

He chuckles, which is maybe the most deeply disturbing sound he’s made so far.

“Indeed not. I am here to make you an offer, Tristan, an offer you will not get from your family. I am here to propose that you and I - and those of my kind, for we are many - work together.”

It isn’t lost on me that a Ripper, a real one, can just tear my power away from me, drain my blood and take what’s mine.

“That’s very philanthropic, I’m sure.”

“You’re a very clever person, Tristan. I know that you are aware of the other ways in which I can obtain what I want. But a living Seeker, one of your stature, is a never-ending source of fresh magic. Who knows into what you may evolve over time? With the right guidance, you may be the greatest of them all. Surely such a being should not waste her time slaving in a coffee shop, answering to teachers, and taking the abuse of teenagers. With our help, you can be free of all that, while providing us with the power we seek, the power to rule the world as we see fit.”

“With you in charge, eh?”

“As you say.”

Lucas finally looks over at me, the recognition of what’s transpiring spreading over his face. He makes a move like he wants to step in front of me, to protect me in some way, but I put up a hand, stopping him.

“That’s a lot to think about,” I answer. “I take it you don’t need an answer now? Because you’re not getting one.”

“Naturally,” he says. “But...well, let us be clear. This is a - how do you say? - limited time offer. While having you work with us is the most advantageous scenario, we will have what we want in the end.”

“As you say,” I answer.

“Think carefully, Seeker. We will be in touch.” He makes a move to turn, and pauses, catching sight of Antonio where Lucas laid him on the pool table. “And you might want to keep an eye on your friends.”


And with that final threat, the darkness swallows him.