Warrior from the Shadowland (7 page)

“Too
late.”  Nia shrugged.  “I don’t think there’s really a lot to forgive, since it
was just an accidental blip, but I forgive you.  So, I think you need to just
stop overreacting and get over it.”

Cross
snorted.  That didn’t even deserve a response so he didn’t give it one.

Nia
sighed at his stubborn silence.  “Alright, just tell me something, then.  How
long have you known?”  She had the bluest eyes in the universe and they pinned
him like the insect that he was.

“Known
what?”  Cross could feel his body wanting to be next to hers, that turquoise
gaze pulling him like a damn Magnet Phase.  He forced himself to stay still,
keeping his distance from her.

“How
long have you known that we were a Match?”  She said, simply.  “I can feel it,
now.  I felt it when our powers slammed together like that.  I’m not an idiot. 
I know what that means.  So, how long have you known about me?”

Cross
felt a wash of shame.  For a second, he almost denied that he was her Match. 
Almost set her free, rather than say anything that would tie her to him. 
Matches could be renounced.  It was rare, but it could be done.  Ty had done
it.  Cross could go to Job and …

His
thoughts trailed off.  Cross had a brief flash of trying to exist without the
peace that Nia provided for him.  With just him and Shadows and pain, all alone
forever.  No.  He wouldn’t give her up.  Not for anything in the universe.

Selfish
bastard
.

He
actually heard his stepfather’s voice screaming it at him, but Cross still
couldn’t do it.

Without
Nia to give him hope, he’d let the Shadows drop.  Cross refused to do that
because it would destroy Nia along with everything else.  Or, at least, that
was a handy excuse for keeping a gift that shouldn’t have been his in the first
place.  Cross wasn’t worthy of being Nia’s Phase-Match.  He’d just proven it
and she must know it.  But he still couldn’t let her go.

“I’ve
known since the Fall.  Since the world ended.  I felt you, then.”  He stared
down at the blood on his hands, refusing to look at her.

Nia
blinked.  “And you just… left me?”  Her voice broke, slightly.  “You didn’t
come for me until now?”  She sounded more upset by that than by what he’d done
to her clothes.  “Didn’t you want me?”

Cross’
head snapped up.  What the hell…?  He’d expected angry recriminations that he’d
triggered the apocalypse.  He hadn’t expected Nia to interpret his actions as
him willfully ignoring her for two damn years.  Was she kidding?  Cross had
never been known for his sense of humor, so it was certainly possible that he
missed the joke.

Except,
looking at Nia’s stricken face, it seemed like she was actually serious.  How
could Nia even think that anyone wouldn’t want her?  How could she possibly
believe that after what had happened on the desk?  Maybe
she
was the one
who was crazy.  “Are you crazy?”  It was the only thing that he could think to
say.

“Forget
it.”  Nia crossed her arms over her chest and frowned.  “It’s okay, I guess. 
You’re here now, so…”

There
was a loud crashing sound in the outer office.  Human voices shouted that they
were all under arrest and that everyone had to stop right where they were.

The
police.

Great.

Apparently
their little sword fight hadn’t been real under the radar.  Cross had never
spent much time around humans, but he knew that Job would not be happy about
five Phases doing hard time in one of their prisons.

Cross
didn’t feel himself move.  He just somehow ended up right next to Nia, grabbing
her arm and forcing her backwards.  The sword was in his hand, again.  “How
many people want you dead?”  He demanded, his eyes fixed on the door.

“A
lot.”  She tried to get passed him so she could go help her family.  They couldn’t
see the outer office, but it was a safe bet Ty, Uriel and Tharsis were being
arrested.

“Nia,
no.”  Cross refused to let her slip away from him.  “You’re not going to do
them any good getting handcuffed.”  Although, the image of that did play
through his head for a moment like an excerpt from an X-rated film.

“The
police will catch us in here, anyway.”  She stood on tiptoe so she could
whisper into his ear.  “I won’t leave my family and I don’t want to hurt any
humans.  They’re harmless.  We’ll just get arrested and then escape, again.”

“No.” 
Cross struggled to concentrate.  The headache lifted when their skin touched,
giving him a small bit of clarity.  She seemed intent on destroying it with her
breathy voice, though.  “It’s not safe.”  He insisted.  Parald had to know
where she was if the Air House had attacked.  They couldn’t be trapped by
humans.  It put them all in danger if more Air Phases arrived.

“My
cousin and brother are out there.”

“I
don’t care.”

Nia’s
eyes narrowed.  “Cross, let me go.”  She said it firmly, as if that was the end
of the

argument.

Because
-
Shit!
- it was.

His
Match hadn’t spent the past two years shouting down the rest of the Council
without learning something about strategy.  Nia had cornered him with that move
and she knew it.

She
smiled a “checkmate” sort of grin.

Cross
had vowed that he’d stop, whenever Nia told him to stop touching her.  Period.
And, for some reason, she actually believed that he’d keep his word.  So, if he
didn’t take his hand off of her, he’d be breaking the only promise he’d ever
made to her.  Cross’s instincts were screaming at him to stop her before she
put herself in jeopardy.

He
could overpower Nia now and force her to stay put.  But, then her trust in him
and her incredibly touching faith that he’d respect her boundaries if she just
said “no” would vanish.  Cross didn’t want that.

He’d
rather lose this round and win the war.

Cross
clenched his jaw, annoyed and almost proud of her for trapping him.  “I won’t
always be this easy.”  He warned and released his hold on Nia’s elbow.  The
headache came rushing back, worse than ever.  The Shadows were somehow agitated
that he’d complied with her wishes at the risk of her own safety.  Cross closed
his eyes as pain seared through him.  He felt blood begin to seep out past his
lashes and he turned so Nia wouldn’t see it.  “Fuck.”  He doubled over,
fighting to push the pressure back.

“Cross?” 
Nia’s voice went high.  Hands grabbed him again, blue manicured nails digging
into his arm as she tried to turn him to see his face.  “What’s wrong?  What
happened?  Why are you bleeding?!?”

He
almost cried out in relief when she fingers found his cheek.  “It’s nothing.” 
He gritted hoarsely.  The tension eased and he opened his eyes to look at her,
again.  “A headache.”

Nia
clearly didn’t believe that.  She wiped at the blood on his face and Cross
could read panic in every movement.  “I’m sorry.  Was it me?  I upset you.  I’m
sorry.  Are you hurt?  Sick?  Please, don’t be sick.”  Her voice shook and he
knew she was thinking of the Fall.  “Please, Cross.”

He’d
never had anyone look so concerned for him before.  It felt… nice.  “I’m not
sick. And it wasn’t you.  I’m alright, baby.”

The
police must’ve finished with the others, because they were getting closer to
the office door.  Cross swore, softly.  He reached up and instinctively grasped
Nia’s wrist, holding it against his cheek.  “Stay still.”

The
Shadows swirled and the two of them just… disappeared.

Nia
gasped.

A
blonde police officer came into the office, but she couldn’t see them.  She
looked around suspiciously, as if she could sense them, but Cross was bending
the Shadows so her eyes traveled right over the spot where they stood.

Cross
wasn’t sure whether to curse or laugh at this new demonstration of his
instability.

Shadow
Phases could control Shadows.  They could vanish into them, move like them, and
create them.  But, they couldn’t drag other Phases into the Shadows
with
them. 
A normal Shadow Phase could’ve disappeared, but there was no way Cross
should’ve been able to hide Nia, too.  It was way beyond the power of a Shadow
Phase to manipulate other people’s bodies like that.  Cross still wasn’t sure
how he was getting the weight of the Shadows to work around Nia, but he knew
that the level of energy and the things that it could do were pretty friggin’
abnormal.

Wrong.

Wrong.

Wrong.

He
must’ve actually said it out loud, because Nia shook her head, red curls
swaying.  “Magic.”  She corrected, her mouth shaping the word so the cop
wouldn’t overhear.

The
police woman turned to leave the office.

And
that’s when Nia’s walkie-talkie made a loud chirping sound from inside of her
pocket.

These
crimes," the doctor answered, "have all the elements of a ghostly
impulse.”

Charles
Wadsworth Camp- "The Abandoned Room: A Mystery Solved”

Officer
Melanie O’Shea whirled around at the sound of electronic beeping.  She didn’t
know what the hell was going on, but she knew that there was something weird
about the whole feel of this serology lab.  A charge in the air had the small
hairs on her arms standing up.  Melanie’s deep brown eyes swept around the
messy interior of the office, cataloging every scattered file and broken
pencil.

She
felt like she wasn’t alone.

Melanie
saw the little radio a moment later, sitting on the edge of the overturned
desk. She stepped forward to frown at the device.  It was a walkie-talkie, just
like the ones that the she’d found on the three weirdoes that she’d just
handcuffed.  Only it hadn’t been there a second before.  Melanie was sure of it. 
Almost sure, anyway.  Where the hell had it come from?

“Mel?” 
Sullivan Pryce, Melanie’s cousin and boss, called to her from the outer room. 
“Everything okay?”

“Yeah.” 
Melanie said, automatically.  She took a backwards step towards the door. 
“There’s nothing back here.”

“There’s
not?”  One of the blue-haired lunatics demanded.   His undoubtedly fake
drivers’ license said that his name was Tharsis Waterhouse.  His gaze slid over
to the curvy, little redhead in a “Hello Kitty” baseball cap.  “Ty?”

She
shrugged, her eyes warily fixed on Sullivan.  Sullivan had that kind of effect
on people.  At 6 foot 6, with a massive scar on the side of his face, Mayport
Beach’s chief of police looked like a badass.  The scowl didn’t help matters. 
Sullivan was never in a great mood, but drug dealers really pissed him off. 
Since, it was a pretty good guess that the three nuts with Goth striped hair
had broken into the hospital lab in order to steal any kind of happy pills they
could find, Sullivan wasn’t exactly on his best behavior.

Melanie
almost felt bad for the freaks.

“There’s
another walkie-talkie back there.  I think they had someone else working with
them, but he got away.”  She arched a brow at Tharsis.  “Looks like your buddy
left ya for dead, pal.”

His
mouth actually curved.  “Honor among thieves is such a crock.”  All three of
them had some kind of odd lyrical accent, but Tharsis’ was the least
noticeable.  His life of crime apparently paid well, since he wore an Armani
suit with no shirt and there was a huge blue sapphire studded through his left
ear.  Amusement gleamed from his turquoise eyes, as if this entire bust was
part of some grand joke.

“You
didn’t see any bodies back there?”  The other guy asked Melanie.  His phony,
unlamented ID listed him as Uriel Woods.  Melanie couldn’t imagine any parents
being cruel enough to saddle their kid with a name that sounded so much like
‘urinal.’  “Or are you just ignoring the dead Phases because they weren’t
human?”  He looked over at Tharsis.  “Do humans even have laws about killing
us?”

Tharsis
cringed slightly and pretended not to hear that.

“Oh,
God.”  Sullivan gave his head a patented ‘why me?’ shake and pinched the bridge
of his nose.  “They think that they’re aliens.  I can’t handle any more aliens
this week, Mel.”

Melanie
patted his shoulder sympathetically.  Sullivan hated dealing with eccentrics. 
He’d really much rather have a gunfight or even do paperwork.  And the aliens
they usually picked up weren’t armed, either.  Melanie rolled her eyes at the
strange looking sword they’d taken from Uriel. 
The Lord of the Rings
prop store must love these jokers.

“We
aren’t aliens.”  Tharsis said, swiftly.

“There
are no aliens in this galaxy.”  Uriel agreed, straight faced.  “We’d have met
them.”

“
He’s
going in your car, Melanie.”  Sullivan gestured towards Uriel.  “I’ll take
these two and meet you back at the station.”  He grabbed Tharsis with one hand
and Ty with the other.  “Just leave the other walkie-talkie and the rest of the
scene as is and we’ll process it this afternoon.”

That
perked Melanie up.  Mayport Beach offered very few opportunities for
processing
crime scenes.  Usually, it was just arresting the same clowns every weekend at
the local bar and giving out some parking tickets.

Ty’s
eyes went wide behind the lens of her cat’s eye glasses.  Like her soon-to-be
co-defendants, her hands were zip tied behind her back.  “Thar?”  Her voice
sounded too high pitched as Sullivan dragged her forward.  “Are we sure these
are
real
humans and not working with the Reprisal or anything?”

“I’m
sure.  Chason wouldn’t even hire a human to scrub his toilet.”  Tharsis glanced
up at Sullivan, looking amazingly blasé about his upcoming trip to the slammer. 
“My cousin’s scared.  Explain that you’re just an ordinary cop and that you’re
not going to hurt her.”  He spoke like he was used to having people listen.

Sullivan
wasn’t exactly the world’s greatest listener.  Melanie expected her cousin to
blow him off, just on general principals.  To her surprise Sullivan heaved
another sigh, instead.  He loosened his grip on Ty’s arm and spared her an
annoyed glance.  “We aren’t the Gestapo, kid.  You’re just getting tossed in
jail, not beaten with phonebooks or fed to attack dogs.  Deal with it, okay? 
Because, I’m givin’ ya fair warning, you start crying and I might rethink the
rubber hoses.”

Ty
seemed to believe Sullivan’s grudging, pseudo-reassurances.  Melanie could see
her relax a bit.  Far from tears, Ty began to focus on the actual nuts and
bolts of her arrest.  “Will you fingerprint us like they do on TV?  That could
actually be interesting.  I’m not sure we have fingerprints, do we, Thar?”

“Ty,
honey, shhh!”  Tharsis hissed back.  “Let’s exercise our Constitutional right
to remain silent.  Haven’t you ever seen one of the human
Law and Order
shows?”

Sullivan
rolled his eyes.  “God, this really is
just
what I need today.”  He
muttered to no one in particular.  “Alright, Trekkies, this way to the
mothership.  We’ll get you away from all the bad Earthlings.”  He ushered them
forward, out the door.

Uriel
turned to Melanie.  “Your leader detains his prisoners on a ship?”

Melanie
really wished Sullivan had left her in charge of the other two whackos instead
of this one.  Uriel made her uncomfortable.  Despite his better living through
chemistry, the guy looked like the centerfold pinup image of All American maleness. 
There was something so
wrong
about lusting after the scumbag she’d just
busted for stealing drugs from a hospital lab.  Melanie had been a cop for six
years and she’d never been attracted to a prisoner before.

“Sullivan’s
not my leader.  He’s my boss.”  Melanie muttered, since there really wasn’t
another response to his craziness.

Uriel
nodded.  “Ah, I didn’t know that there was distinction between those words. 
I’m sorry.  Human isn’t my first language.”  His earnest smile should have been
bottled and sold to men everywhere.

Melanie
made a face.  “Whatever.  Let’s just go.”  She took hold of his arm and refused
to notice the size of his bicep.

Uriel
was definitely the best looking man she’d ever arrested.  Or, okay, ever seen. 
Ever
.  Like some kind of refugee from Soap Opera Land, where all the men
were designed to live their lives in bath towels.  His blond hair was cut in a
short, military style with a mahogany streak at his temple.  For some reason,
he wore a watermelon colored t-shirt with “World’s Sexiest Grandma” written
across the front in sparkly, cursive letters.  Maybe it was the name of his
band.  In any case, Melanie wasn’t sure how he managed to look so ready to try
out for the Navy Seals in it.  It must’ve been his stance.

The
guy dressed like a freak from a bad rave, but he stood like a warrior.

Uriel
didn’t try to struggle free of her grasp or challenge her authority.  With
fluid athleticism, he calmly strode beside her as she led him out into the
South Florida heat.  Melanie immediately cringed at the Indian summer humidity
that pressed down on her like a sweltering wave of mugginess.

God,
it was days like this that questioned her sanity living so close to the
Equator.

Melanie
knew it was ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but squint up into the sun
bleached sky as she stepped off the sidewalk.  For the past few days, she’d
been staring at it more and more.  Something just looked... wrong.   As usual,
there were darkening storm clouds forming in the otherwise clear, blue
expanse.  If you lived in South Florida, you got used to evening downpours. 
Still, it just looked
different
up there today.  Weird and somehow…
empty.

“Do
the clouds…”  She hesitated and glanced up at her prisoner.  “Never mind.”  She
herded him towards her police car.  “Forget it.”  Her gaze strayed to the sky
again as she opened the back door for him and she gave into impulse.  “Alright,
seriously, do the clouds look weird to you?”  Sullivan had claimed that she was
imagining things, but Melanie couldn’t get the idea out of her head.

“Weird?” 
Uriel repeated.  “In what way?”

“Well,
not like hurricane weird.”  That was always a concern in Florida.  “Like -I
don’t know-
flat
or something.”  She knew it was an insane question, but
if anyone could understand it, she had a feeling it was her doped-up,
bodybuilding friend.

Uriel
didn’t even turn to glance at the sky.  Instead, he focused on her with a
disturbing new intensity, like he’d suddenly noticed something unusual about
her face.  It seemed like he’d stopped breathing.

Melanie
had always considered herself fairly average looking.  She had no idea what the
matinee idol standing in front of her found so interesting.  Uriel leaned
forward, bending down so his gaze was level with hers.  Melanie didn’t back
away, didn’t go for her pepper spray, or even threaten to throw him in prison
forever.  Instead, she just stared back, feeling strangely safe, even as the
gigantic lobotomy patient focused on her with the intensity of a laser beam.

Or
maybe a tractor beam, considering his sci-fi fanboy-ness.

“You
have the eyes of a Wood Phase.”  Uriel reported, softly.  His own eyes met hers
and, instead of drug induced lunacy, Melanie saw determined intelligence
reflected in their brown depths.

“Uh-huh.” 
Melanie said, because there didn’t seem to be another answer for that
statement, either.  It was probably real unprofessional to notice that he
smelled incredible.  Cops shouldn’t notice a perp’s clean, woodsy scent.

“Eyes
that shade of brown mean a Wood Phase.”  Uriel insisted as if he thought she’d
argue the point.

Melanie
shrugged.  “Well, it’s just the color I was born with, cowboy.  So, I guess
I’ll take your word for that.”

Uriel
gave his head a puzzled shake.  “The clouds are devoid of their pictures.”  He
finally reported, still keeping his attention on her.  “It’s gone out of them
now.  I wasn’t sure that humans would notice.  You’re special.”

The
crazy talk and the really white gleam of his teeth distracted Melanie for a
second.  Then, her mouth dropped open as she realized what he’d said.

Holy
shit.

The
mental patient had actually pin-pointed
exactly
what was wrong with the
flat, depressing looking clouds.  Where there was usually a shifting display of
images showcased in the sky, now there was just… space.  Melanie swallowed
hard.  It was impossible.  Nothing could erase the endless shapes and forms created
by the different positions of clouds.  They were put there by people’s
imaginations.  Losing them would be unbelievably tragic.

“So,
how do we get the pictures back?”  She demanded before she thought better of
it.

“We
can’t.”  Uriel shook his head, sadly.  “Not unless we find the Quintessence,
anyway.  It may be able to undo Parald’s betrayal.”

What
the hell was he talking about, now?  Some kind of comic book thing?  “Get in
the car.”  She ordered, shortly.  He was so tall that she had to help him duck
into the backseat.  “Just don’t say anything else.”  She slammed the door shut
and scowled up at the sky, again.

Damn
it.  She was going nuts.  There were no friggin’ pictures in the clouds.

How
could that happen?

Muttering
to herself, Melanie rounded the car and got into the driver’s seat.  Her eyes
met Uriel’s in the rearview mirror.  She wanted to accuse him of stealing the
images, but that would make her just as insane as he was.  He knew something,
though.  She could tell by the intent way he was staring at her.

“Alright,
so what really happened to the clouds?”  She demanded.

“You
instructed me not to say anything more to you, Melanie.  If I answer, you will
only get annoyed.  I don’t want you annoyed with me.”

He
pronounced her name “Mal-ann-ee.”  It was
not
adorable.  His whole
accent was completely
un
-swoon worthy.  Melanie refused to be taken in. 
“I’m not capable of getting too much more annoyed, cowboy.  It’s zooming
towards Rodney King time, here.”