Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Metamorphosis: Genesis ❯ Chapter X ( Chapter 10 )

Chapter X

The seconds on the clock seemed to tick by painfully slow. She tapped her pencil frantically against the paper, her eyes trained on the achy twitch of the second hand as it traveled around the face of the clock on the wall. The final exam had been brutal and most of the students in the room were rocking or fidgeting in a similar fashion—begging to be finished with the silent block of time and race to the freedom of the winter holiday. With less than eight minutes standing between the worn out college students and a month long break from studies, Lyrial was not the only one losing patience and becoming more and more eager as the seconds dragged on.

When the exam had first been administered, the brunette had stared blankly at the questions and felt her heart stop and throat clench. Since the unexpected arrival of her two new roommates, Lyrial's studies had suffered. She was not exactly failing but she was no longer excelling. She'd become distracted, keeping lights on in her bedroom at night, afraid of an encounter with Sano. In consequence, her exhaustion and unplanned bouts of sleep during the day had robbed her time spent on her school work. At this rate, she thought miserably, she'd probably flunk out and work at some fast food franchise for the rest of her life. Lyrial groaned and rubbed her face with her hands. She just needed time to adjust. After she'd acclimated to this weird new living situation she could buckle down again and salvage whatever grade point average she had in remains.

“That's it, everyone. Pencils down. Bring your exam to the front and enjoy your break,” the Professor said finally, looking at the watch on her wrist. Lyrial leapt up from her tiny wooden desk along with the stampede of other students. They all but threw their exams onto the desk, forming a haphazard jenga tower of documents, and hurried out the classroom.

“Gen Ed classes are a drag, huh, Lyrial?” The brunette nodded with a relieved smile as she moved with the river of people out of the building and into the snowy world outside the warm and quiet confines of the classrooms.

“Yeah, no kidding. See you next semester!” She called cheerfully after her friend before turning down the courtyard and heading towards the street. The density of students thinned as the further commuters piled into their cars after sweeping off the snow from their windshields. Lyrial hugged her coat around her, adjusting the warm knitted hat that strapped down her curls. “What a headache,” Lyrial stopped briefly, turning slightly behind her to the sound of a voice.

“Excuse me?” she asked as a young man approached her, shivering lightly in his own coat. He shrugged his shoulders and ruffled his bangs.

“The exam. You've got Prescott, right?” he asked and Lyrial laughed.

“Yeah, are you in my class?” She asked before looking apologetic. The young man nodded and shrugged again nonchalantly.

“Yep, but I sit in the back so I can sneak out on occasion,” He replied and they shared an ephemeral jaunt of laughter. “How do you think you did on the exam?” He asked and Lyrial sighed dramatically.

“Not as well as I would have liked,” she admitted before beginning to walk again. “What about you?” She inquired as the young man followed, his footsteps crunching snow to echo her own.

“The same, I suppose,” He said. “It's….Lyrial, right?” he asked, hesitating on the name for a moment. It was something Lyrial was used to—it wasn't the most common name in the book but she didn't think it was so bizarre as to merit strange looks or paused responses.

“That's right. And you're…?” she asked, turning her face up to look at the taller student.

“Chris,” he said quickly in response. “Like I said, I'm in the back, can't be helped if you didn't notice me,” he laughed but Lyrial hugged herself in a guilty way.

“Sorry,” she mumbled and Chris shrugged, tossing his head back lightly to move his brown bangs out of his eyes. Lyrial noticed a distinct scar on the other student's face. It was thin and faded--a testament to its age and finite engraving. However, Lyrial followed its path from just beneath his left eye, up across the bridge of his nose where it disappeared at the beginning of his right brow.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Chris asked, reaching up a gloved hand to playfully prod the scar. Lyrial flushed with embarrassment and looked away, straight ahead into the snowy street.

“I'm sorry! I didn't mean to stare,” she admitted and Chris grinned good-naturedly.

“Nah, its fine. It's huge. How could you NOT stare?” he asked in a teasing way before motioning with his hands vaguely. “I fell out of a tree when I was little. Cracked open my face on a branch on my way down. Cut me up something awful,” the tanned young man said, regaling the story of his thin scar. Lyrial nodded, accepting the excuse for the wound but did wince a little. It seem a bit odd though; Lyrial thought that if he had so been injured in a fall from a tree that the scar left behind would be larger, more jagged and not as perfect.

The scar that decorated his face was thin and perfectly diagonal as if it had been draw in the quick, professional swoop of a very sharp object. The brunette thought that unless he had been cut by someone running with scissors by the glass in car crash he would not be marred so, however, since Chris had provided the tree accident as an explanation, she was obliged to not question it further.

“That must have hurt a lot,” she said and Chris nodded his head enthusiastically.

“Like a bitch,” he replied and Lyrial laughed. Silence filled up the lieu of conversation, aided only by the crunching of snow beneath their feet and the occasional gust of wind.

“Hey, Lyrial,” Chris said and reached out grasp the girl's shoulder. “Do you...want to get a coffee or something?” he asked and a timid ray of hope filled his almond eyes. Lyrial frowned a bit, deliberating on the notion.

“I really don't like coffee,” she said and watched Chris' face visibly fall. “But how about a hot chocolate?” She added with a smile. Chris laughed, a short bark of sound that found its roots in absolute relief rather than mirth.

“A hot chocolate sounds fantastic,” he replied and let his hand slip from her shoulder. The two started to walk down the street towards main center of the downtown area. It was a small city in comparison to Juniper, but there was a moderate downtown. A few restaurants, cafes, bistros and of course the grocer owned by Mr. McArthur. As they walked in the cold towards one of the cafes that sat adjacent from Mr. McArthur's store, Lyrial felt Chris' gloved hand graze her arm before shying away as if it had been electrocuted by the contact. A small blush filled her cheeks as the other student held the café door open for her.

“Thanks,” she whispered and pulled the kitted cap off her head, shaking her curls free from their prone positions against her head. She tucked the cap into her coat pocket and rubbed her hands together briskly. Chris mimicked the motion and sat down at one of the tables, Lyrial following. The sole waitress came up to them with a small pad in her hands.

“What can I get you folks?” she asked, clicking the pen in her other hand to life, ready to jot down whatever the couple ordered.

“Two hot chocolates,” Chris said.

“And a croissant!” Lyrial piped up and the waitress wrote quickly.

“Hey, make that two!” Chris called after her as she disappeared towards the counter to get the drinks and pastries together. The students sighed in contentment, feeling the warmth of the café beginning to penetrate their heavy layers of clothing. Chris pulled off his jacket and let the arms fall over the back of the chair so that it balanced somewhat. Lyrial pulled her arms out of her jacket with a little more finesse, getting caught only briefly in the thick material. She jerked her shoulder to detach herself from the coat, the silver crucifix around her throat spilling out of the blouse she wore beneath the coat. The chain links rustled together before the silver charm dangled in a way most iconic against her bosom.

“Oh, you're Catholic?” Chris asked, indicating towards the necklace. Lyrial frowned, confused, before reaching up to touch the charm.

“Oh! No, not practicing. I found this and was told it'd be a good idea to hang on to it. Mr. McArthur said it would keep me safe,” she giggled a bit at the last part but shrugged her shoulders. “He's a nice old man. Do you know him?”

“Heh, who doesn't?” Chris replied and rested his elbows on the table, admiring the craftsmanship of the crucifix. “He's right though. It'll keep you safe.” He smiled for a moment before the waitress returned to set their steaming cups of hot chocolate in front of them.

“And two croissants,” she said, setting down two small plates covered in a doilies. A top the paper lace were two large pastries, fresh and warm from the oven.

“Thank you,” Chris and Lyrial replied before the former tucked into his croissant. Lyrial picked up her cup of hot chocolate and blew lightly across the surface.

“I'm not sure how effective it's been since I found it, but it is a little comforting. It's almost like Mr. McArthur is watching over me when I wear it,” she said, taking a tentative sip from her mug. “Even though I know that's silly.”

“Not silly at all,” Chris interjected after swallowing his mouthful of pastry. “Besides, I'm sure Mr. McArthur isn't the only one watching over you.” When Lyrial looked up sharply, Chris' eyes softened and he pointed up towards the ceiling with innocence. His meaning became clear and Lyrial laughed.

“Oh,” she replied before taking another quick drink from her cup.

“Oh?” the other student asked seeming a little hurt. “Do you not believe in Him?” Lyrial shrugged her shoulders.

“I think it's hard to trust in something no one has really seen, but I guess that's everyone's excuse, huh?” She asked, smiling in attempts to alleviate any offense. Chris chuckled in response, setting down his croissant to try the hot chocolate. After making a brief face protesting its temperature, he set the cup down.

“It's a valid point,” he admits before reaching across the table to touch Lyrial's shoulder. The girl tensed, prepared for the death-like cold of Sano's hand, before the warm life bearing appendage rests against her blouse hidden skin. “What are you doing Christmas Eve?” Lyrial blinked at the question—it wasn't something she had been expecting.

“Nothing too pressing,” she admitted, setting down her hot chocolate. “I don't have much of a family to go home to and since Alan moved out of the flat….well, let's just say I have nothing planned.” Chris laughed again, agreeing with the sentiment.

“Come to Mass with me.” Lyrial bit her bottom lip and averted the gaze of the male student. She had not been in a church service for quite some time. Like most people, she tended to question some of the practices and beliefs of organized religion and had strayed from the rigid upbringing her God-fearing parents had imposed upon her.

“I-I don't know,” Lyrial said but Chris gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

“No pressure. It's Christmas for goodness sakes. It's something to do—and since you apparently have nothing to do—why not come with me?” Lyrial picked up her croissant and chewed on it anxiously. Chris could see the mental deliberation burning through her embarrassed brown eyes. He took his hand from his shoulder and tore off a piece of the doily. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen.

“Well, if you change your mind,” he said gently and held out the doily scrap for her. Lyrial took the paper lace from him and read the seven digits drawn onto it. She nodded her head and folded the doily scrap, tucking it into her pocket. Chris ran his hand through his bangs, finishing off his hot chocolate.

“I think that's sufficiently awkward, don't you?” He asked and Lyrial giggled. He set money down on the table, paying for their snack before pulling his coat on. The brunette stood as well, pulling her heavy coverings on again and preparing for the cold outside the quaint little café. Chris pulled open the door and stepped outside, a burst of winter wind blowing his bangs out of his face. Lyrial followed him out, her hair whipping around her as if her curls were alive.

“Call, okay?” Chris said and patted the girl's shoulder briefly before turning down the avenue and heading on his way. Lyrial stood a moment looking after him as he walked. His hands were jammed deep in his pockets, protecting themselves from the weather, but he didn't seem to shiver in the cold. Lyrial huffed and pulled her coat tightly around herself before grudgingly turning the opposite direction. The walk to the apartment was brief but Lyrial felt the biting cold made the trek feel like an eternity. As she buzzed herself into the building, she shuddered in relief once the inorganic dry heat enveloped her. She unbuttoned her coat as she climbed the stairs to her floor, reaching up to fondly touch the chain around her throat.

Her fingertips stroked the cross structure as she entered the hallway and moved towards her front door. She dug absentmindedly with her other hand for her key, slipping it into the lock with a practiced hand. Lyrial entered the apartment and locked the door behind her.

“I'm home,” She called out to no one in particular. It had been hard adjusting to life without Alan. Although, she reasoned, the flamboyant young man had gone out so often and for so long that it had almost been like living all alone to begin with. Lyrial did remember their nights together watching television, laughing over dinner, and going shopping in Juniper. She sighed and looked at the slender plastic telephone resting on the end table in the living room.

“Oh, Alan,” she whispered. It was just yesterday that Alan's boyfriend had come by and collected his belongings. Lyrial had hoped that her previous roommate would have come back himself but after another cryptic phone conversation with him, it had become clear that there was something about the apartment that truly terrified Alan—something, Lyrial thought and glared briefly at the locked guest bedroom door, or someone.

“I guess there's nothing I can really do about it,” she said and took off her coat, hanging it up on one of the little hooks by the front door. She looked back into the living room, focusing on the television. The screen was off but memories of a night past came into her mind. She watched the scene between herself and Sano, the mild popcorn fight, the laughs, the talking…it reminded her of moments with Alan and she shook her head sharply. No, she scolded herself and moved back into the room, setting her keys by the telephone. Sano was certainly not like Alan and would not replace him. The images she saw shifted to the frightening moment between the silver haired young man and her. Lyrial felt herself pinned again to the couch, a place of usual jovial interaction, and saw it as a place to be weary of.

“I need more sleep,” she said and patted her wind-burned cheeks.

“You're probably right,” a voice from the kitchen replied and Lyrial jumped. The woman's voice was curt and laden with mirth.

“Kaya,” Lyrial said in relief as she moved to the threshold between rooms. “You startled me!” She admitted and the tall blonde laughed, rummaging through the cabinets.

“Yeah, me and everything else in this world,” she teased and looked over her shoulder at the smaller girl who hugged herself guiltily. “Relax. Sit down. You're finished with your exam things, right?” She asked and Lyrial nodded, moving to sit down at the kitchen table.

“Mhm, all done. I don't have to go back to classes until January,” she countered and laid her head down on the table with a groan. Kaya huffed and went back to rummaging.

“I thought you were glad about the break. You seemed to be,” she said and Lyrial sat back up reluctantly.

“I am, really!” she insisted. “It's just now that I won't be gone during the day in classes and whatnot, I'll be home…with him,” she said quietly, indicating towards the other side of the apartment where the guest bedroom was. Kaya waved her hand dismissively and gave up on her cabinet diving, opting instead to sit on the edge of the counter, crossing her long legs, and looking at the brunette.

“At least he doesn't snore.” Lyrial giggled.

“But then again,” Kaya added with a mild shrug. “I suppose you'd have to be breathing to snore.” The lightened mood made Lyrial relax; the previous exam had worn her out for the most part but her little cocoa session with Chris had revitalized her until stepping back into the apartment where a looming sense of dread hid behind the familiar workings of home.

“Chris,” she whispered quickly and reached into her jeans pocket to produce the folded slip of paper. Kaya lofted a brow curiously and tilted her head to the side a bit.

“Hm?” Lyrial unfolded the paper and looked up at the other girl.

“Oh, a boy in my class invited me somewhere Christmas Eve. I'm supposed to call if I want to go,” she explained and Kaya nodded her head slowly, expressing her understanding while displaying her coinciding concern.

“Do you know him well?” She asked as Lyrial stood up, moving from the kitchen to the living room.

“Not fantastically so,” the brunette admitted. “But he's nice. We went to the café across from Mr. McArthur's place after the exam.” Kaya slid off the counter and peeked into the living room and watched Lyrial dial the number. The girl hesitated as the receiver rang. Three pulses later the other end clicked open.

“Hi, Chris? It's Lyrial,” the girl smiled as the reply floated through the telephone.

“Yes, it was nice,” she responded after a moment and managed a small giggle. “Well, that's what I was calling about. Yeah, if the offer still stands, I'd like to go with you on Christmas Eve.” Kaya leaned against the wall as she listened to the joyous albeit muffled response from the boy on the other end of the telephone conversation.

“Okay. I'll see you then. Yes, ten thirty. All right, bye,” Lyrial finished and set the receiver back into its cradle on the table. She looked back to Kaya with a shy smile on her face. Kaya pushed off the wall lightly and patted the other girl on the shoulder.

“Just be careful, okay?” She said but Lyrial frowned.

“Of what?” She asked. “It's just church. It's not like we're bungee jumping or something,” she insisted and Kaya shrugged her shoulders, moving back into the kitchen.

“Kaya!” Lyrial called after her as she moved to close the cabinets she'd be rummaging through. “What's wrong?” she asked and moved between the other girl and the exit to the kitchen. The well-built blonde looked down at the more fragile creature and shook her head.

“It's nothing, just a bad feeling. After everything that's been going on, shouldn't you be a little more alert?” she inquired and slipped past Lyrial and out of the kitchen. She felt trapped in the tiled room. Humans were just too trusting Kaya reasoned and didn't stop to look back at the hurt look in Lyrial's eyes. Those warm oaken orbs that held so much innocence and so much compassion—Kaya didn't want to see eyes like that cry anymore. This Chris person Lyrial had mentioned: Who was he? If she didn't know him that well then why would she go alone with him somewhere? Was this something people in this place did without thought? Kaya didn't understand the idea of putting trust in an unknown person without a proper back up plan. The Witch doubted that Lyrial had formulated any such back up plan in case of a night gone awry.

It was Lyrial's thirst for normalcy of any kind that had led her to thoughtlessly engage in social activity with this Chris person. Lyrial would have to learn, Kaya thought to herself, that her past envisions of normalcy were never to be again.

“Where are you going?” Kaya did not hesitate while bundling herself up, preparing for the winter cold that awaited outside the apartment.

“To get some fresh air—I've been here all day making sure nothing would happen to that useless lunk snoozing in the guestroom,” she replied curtly and rested her hand on the door handle.

“I…still don't have a key, so I'll knock when I get back, all right?” she mentioned before slipping out of the apartment. She could hear the frustrated little shout Lyrial made from the other side of the door, followed by a string of phrases which Kaya deemed very unnecessary. She knew it had to be frustrating living with people like herself and Sano…well, not people really—things, she thought with a grimace as she left the apartment building and was greeted by a gust of wind. Lyrial's life was probably quite normal and balanced before either of them decided to interlope upon her existence. That fact was moot now since Lyrial was now very involved in affairs she had previously considered to be the work of Hollywood fiction and medieval rhetoric.

Kaya heard the snow crunching beneath her feet as she moved down the street. There was still plenty of daylight and despite the moderate amount of sunshine which was a feeble presence against the winter, it was still quite cold. People moved in groups together, standing closer than usual in attempts to keep warmer, and did not linger long in the streets. They bustled into stores, apartments, and other buildings willing to harbor them for a while from the elements.

“How do they live like this?” Kaya asked in disbelief, shivering a bit as she wandered with purpose further into the downtown area. The scenery changed as her expedition continued; the snow became dirty, decorated horridly with black splashes of waste and debris. The buildings looked older, too, and held a similar shabby appearance, complementing the broken street lights that stood at an awkward attention in the pavement. The Slums were an unpleasant and habitually a dangerous place, especially for out-of-towners. It was typical that even residence of the city steered clear of the Slums unless their trespassing was absolutely necessary. Kaya marched bravely through the zone that designated the beginning of the Slums and she stopped at a street corner.

She looked left and right, seeing no one else about aside from an old withered man bundled up tightly in a torn and ragged brown coat. He was a homeless man who huddled close to a rusted trashcan in which he had started a meager fire. His large knuckled hands rubbed together, generating a little warmth in the frigid atmosphere and the way his fingers curved suggested his on-going battle with arthritis. Scenes like this were not uncommon in the tough neighborhood of the Slums and Kaya had become immune to such pitying sights. This man was a professional beggar—he could be seen wandering around in less crooked parts of the city and groveling for coins; he'd even gone as far to go to Juniper for his endeavors. It was an art the withered man had perfected through years of practice and as far as homelessness went, Kaya thought with all the money he seeped off of ignorant tourists and bleeding hearts he could have moved himself into a somewhat decent apartment by now.

The Witch looked away from the homeless man and his little trashcan fire to across the street. There she saw another man, decades younger than the beggar, standing on the opposite street corner. He stood a moment, taking in Kaya's appearance as if judging her by some formidable standard, before crossing the avenue to where she waited.

“Almost didn't recognize you,” the young man said. He was taller than Kaya by a few inches with barely there freckles painted across his nose and cheeks. His hair was an uncommonly bright red—flame licked and bright against the snow and brown jacket he wore. The fine scarlet strands barely brushed the collar of the jacket and swished up occasionally with the wind.

“Little boys shouldn't wander by themselves in a place like this,” Kaya replied and the redhead grinned.

“Were you worried about me?” he asked, jade sparkling with sarcastic amusement.

“In the context that if something happens to you then I lose my information source in this city, yes,” Kaya said and the mirth died. The young man shrugged his thin shoulders and tucked his hands into the pockets of his jacket.

“Fair enough,” he replied. “What can I do for you?” He asked, inclining his head a bit to the left to indicate his receptiveness to a proposition.

“I need you to find some information about a man named Chris.” The other laughed.

“Oh, well, you want to be more specific?” He asked.

“He goes to the University in the city and was seen today near that old man's grocer…Mc-something,” she explained.

“McArthur?” the redhead asked to clarify. “Sounds dodgy. We had someone in the area earlier this morning. I'll see what I can turn up for you.”

“Much obliged,” Kaya responded but as the redhead started to turn to walk away, she caught his coat sleeve tightly. He looked back at her quickly, seeing a sense of urgency hiding in her rigid military gaze of cerulean. “With haste, Alex,” she added and the man nodded, briefly touching the hand that grasped his sleeve.

“As you command,” he whispered and the blonde let her fingers uncurl from the material of his coat, allowing him to move back across the street and ultimately disappear into the twists of the Slums. Kaya waited a few moments after her informant had vanished among the old buildings before turning on her heel and heading out of the sketchy section of the city. She did not get far before she was stopped.

“Now what's a nice little cunt like you doing way out here? And all by yourself, too?” Kaya scoffed at the sight of six poorly dressed men. They reminded her a great deal of the homeless fellow she had seen previously, huddled sadly by his trashcan fire. They were dirty and shaggy faced and wore faded hoodies and thick jeans.

“I don't want trouble and I suggest you develop a taste for the similar,” she warned while the muscles in her legs tightened, ready to adhere to the fight or flight instinct that was spinning like roulette in Kaya's subconscious, the invisible needle bobbing between the two options during her assessment of the six instigators.

“Looks like someone needs an attitude adjustment,” one of the six replied and pulled a small club from the sleeve of his hood. He tapped the bludgeon in the palm of his hand in a threatening manner but Kaya smirked.

“I would be all too eager to administer one for you,” she replied and sprang forward towards the armed thug. He drew his arm back to strike the blonde but found his hand empty of the weapon.

“What the--?” The rest of his confounded stammering was silenced as the blunt bat found engagement with the back of his skull. He staggered heavily for a moment, before falling forward onto the snow and asphalt.

“Anyone else?” Kaya asked, now mimicking the unconscious man by patting her palm slowly with the club.

“She's too fast!” Another of the six whispered and started to back away. “Forget this, man!” he said and broke into a run, hurrying away from the scene. Kaya's eyes narrowed and she hurled the club in her hand in lieu of the escaping thug. It collided with the back of his neck and he slid through the snow, slamming finally into one of the crooked streetlamps. He bounced backwards from the impact, a splash of blood spitting from between his teeth as he fell.

“Two down and four to go; who's next?” Kaya asked and glared at the leader of the motley crew. “They say in order to kill a weed one must first eliminate the root.” The delighted smirk grew on her lips and she held open her hand, recalling the club. It jumped up from the snow and flew into her outreached palm. The witnesses gasped and murmured in disbelief, one urging the other to flee.

“This is some voodoo shit!” One of them cried and grabbed hold of another gang member before sprinting off and turning quickly down an alley to hide from the girl. She swung the club around her hand in an act of esteemed balance.

“Batter up,” she said before focusing on the weapon in her hands. It became outlined in strange fluorescent yellow. She looked to the alley where the two escapees had taken refuge, cowering now unseen behind a dumpster and swung the club as if striking an invisible baseball. From the fluorescent outline burst a sphere of canary light that rocketed towards the alleyway dumpster. An explosion occurred when the sphere met with the metal and the two men were blown from their hiding place only to land very poorly on the other end of the ally. They lay prone against the alley floor and ice, their clothes singed and their faces dirtied by ash and heat.

“Damsel in distress: 4. Thugs way out of their league: 0,” she mused and turned to the two remaining. “Have I made myself clear?” She inquired before squaring off as if to swing the glowing club once again.

“All right! All right! Enough, crazy bitch!” The leader of the beaten crew shouted and Kaya frowned.

“I don't like your tone,” she replied coolly before swinging the club again like a bat but this time letting go of the handle. It spun furiously in the air towards the man before knocking him soundly in the teeth. Blood came down his chin and coated the smooth wood of the club as he fell to the ground, the weapon thudding into the snow beside him. He clutched his face and glared at the blonde.
“Do yourself a favor and don't get up,” Kaya said calmly and her azure eyes locked on the last unharmed member of the pack. She fanned her hand towards the man and she turned her nose up.

“Shoo!” She said and he turned heel and ran, abandoning his injured companions. The Witch ran her fingers through her hair and adjusted her coat to her liking. She gave a fleeting glance towards the thug clutching his face, blood slipping through his fingers and falling onto the snow, decorating it as red confetti. She turned her nose up indignantly and began her stroll back into the downtown area, leaving the Slums and her foiled attackers long out of sight and mind. As the scenery slowly changed from the decrepit section of the Slums to a more livable part of the city, Kaya sighed in relief. She was not afraid of being alone or being in a place like the Slums; clearly she was able to fend against the low-lives that crawled through the underbelly of the city. They were, after all, only human.

When Lyrial's apartment building came into view from a distance, thoughts of the incident in the Slums started to weigh on Kaya's mind. What if those men reported to the powers that be that a woman with weird abilities had attacked them? She knew that the police of this world would dismiss such fanciful tales but that such tales would eventually fall upon the ears of more appropriate authorities—namely, Hunters.

“Cruxis Fraternus,” she said to herself, stopping en route to the apartment in front of the Cathedral. It was the same place that Sano and she had vandalized a stained glass window to gain entry and had ripped apart the grand pipe organ. This is where they had learned the name of the organization, the collaborative body in which the Hunters congregated and regrouped—a Brotherhood of the Cross.

“How iconic,” Kaya said spitefully before beginning to walk again. She shivered and hugged herself against the winter wind. Upon reaching the apartment, she pressed the buzzer and waited. After a moment, the lock clicked and she entered. She headed up the stairs and down the hall to Lyrial's apartment then knocked. The door opened and the friendly brunette's face came into view from the shadow of the door. No words were exchanged when Lyrial moved to the side to allow Kaya to enter, nor when the door was closed and locked again, nor when Kaya took off her coat and hug it on the little hooks by the entrance.

Just a smile between the two girls as Lyrial, now clad in a bathrobe, disappeared to shower and relax. Kaya would wait; when the younger girl had finished she would probably retire to a long hot bath as well. The quiet smile was a comforting thing to Kaya even though she felt drained from her encounter. She sat down on the couch and laid down, staring up at the ceiling. She raised her hand up to examine it and the veins on the back stood out profusely, the skin seeming to take on a transparent hue in lieu of her magic usage. She was out of practice in this world and had done too much too soon.

“Maybe I got a little carried away,” she admitted to herself and let her hand fall to her side, dangling off the couch. Similar varicose veins made themselves visible across the corners of her eyes and mouth, branching out like horrible, twisted thickets. A heaviness developed in her chest and her breathing became labored. Kaya wanted to close her eyes and rest, but she feared that in letting the orbs hide from the world they would never again partake in it.

“Definitely got carried away,” she said and groaned and rubbed her face as vigorously as she could. Her body ached for rest and revitalization after its brutal usage in the Slums but Kaya knew she could not sleep until her informant had delivered the information she ordered. If there were any skeletons lurking in this Chris person's closet, Kaya was going to find it—find it and present it in a silk tuxedo to Lyrial.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Metamorphosis: Genesis