Episode 6 - Thunder Across a Blue Sky

  Chapter 59 - Lightning

  Regina does not shift as glass panes explode inwards. The rest of the crowd is not so stoic; yelps of pain or confusion ring in my ears as tiny shards cut red ribbons on faces and hands that were turned to watch in gaping awe at our growing confrontation.

  I do not flinch as a shard grazes my cheek. I don’t feel any pain.

  Unlike the chaos that might explode anywhere else, half the room flies into action - throwing technicians and non-field agents to the ground, sheltering serving staff.

  Pooka swells upwards to the roof, his edges spreading and indistinct like black mist against the ceiling. Only his eyes remain solid and red, rising behind Regina as he draws closer, teeth forming and widening beneath a congealing muzzle, tongue curling. Tendrils of his mass throw several Aquila employees into the air, clearing his path closer. Tables fly to either side of the room, legs snapping, people ducking. Behind me, multiple employees swoop in to pull Adrian clear of us.

  Regina does not even turn. She remains facing me as if the storm does not blow behind her.

  A single trail of red blood drips from beneath her hairline down one cheek. “Is this all you are capable of?” she asks.

  Pooka’s jaws snap above her head, his teeth just grazing the top of her skull. I can see the wisps of her curled hair catch on his tongue and between his fangs. I can feel them between our teeth.

  It is so tempting to unravel. All we would need to do is bite. I’ve done it before. I’ve tasted that burst of metallic heat against my throat and tongue. I’ve felt flesh give underneath my jaws. She would be meat rotting upon the ground before she even knew to feel pain. She would be dead before she could regret chaining us.

  “Fuck you!” I scream, balling my fists. I lean into her, bringing my face down to her level. Pooka is all around her, tendrils and fog billowing like thick smoke from a chemical-fire. Every time he comes close to touching her, he dissipates, boiling at the very edge of her flesh, waiting for the tiniest slip in my control. Or, permission to unleash.

  “Is that it?” barks Regina, staring me down. “You summon your pet here and think you can cow me with your power?”

  “Yes! I will end you!”

  “Do it!” spits Regina in my face. I can feel her saliva spray onto my lower jaw. Her eyes are rimmed with red, dark pupils locked on me. She does not shake.

  “Pooka, back the fuck down!” roars Rhett to the side of my face.

  I turn slightly, and there it is again.

  A barrel of cold metal grazes my brow.

  Weak, thin, pathetic false-conduit. Diluted. Drained. Takers, breakers, monsters. You would challenge us? Where did he keep it, under his clothes? You are meat and water before terror and lightning. I’d just stopped looking for it every time we met.

  Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

  “Conrada wants this blood,” says Pooka with my mouth. “You must kill us both!”

  “Do it then! What do I care?" demands Regina, a crazed drunken bravado fueling her increasing pace. "And then what? You think you can lead this place? You think you can take care of everyone in this room the way I do?”

  Rhett is barely holding on to his composure. I can see his hand shaking, his finger twitching as it dances on the safety. A line of sweat drips down his brow. Time hovers, Pooka billows - edges roiling. Waiting. Paused. For me.

  We raise my hand. And grip the handgun barrel, locking it upon my head as I lean into it.

  “You will be responsible for them!” screams Regina at me, continuing her challenge.

  Kill them. Kill the takers! Kill the masters! Kill or be killed in turn!

  I’d truly just stopped looking for the gun. I knew it was always there, it’s Rhett. I’ve never seen him not armed.

  “You think you can do what I can do? You think this company will survive without me? You think you’ll be happier? Better off with someone else?” screams Regina.

  I wondered where it was. I’ve trained my eye to see the slight catch of his shirt on a harness underneath, or the uneven line of his pants when it’s tucked into his waist. When he wears a business jacket, the sizes he has tailored are always suited to fit over an underlayer of body armor. I’ve seen the way he layers his sleeves to hide the knife he straps to his forearm, and the second he tucks into the top of his boots. Rhett never stops, never strips his armor or his weapons. When had I grown soft enough that I’d forgotten?

  “You’ll be dead. Or you’ll be a weapon, put to far worse work than I will ever do to you.”

  I’ve grown so tired of watching for danger. I lift my free hand and rub the sting in the corner of my eye, and my fingers pull away from my face sticky with my blood. I don’t know what to do. Time runs so slow.

  Rhett takes a gasping, strangled breath, and releases his gun to me, slowly raising each hand to the air on either side of his face. His blue eyes lock onto me, his calm stripped and raw as his own emotions unfurl in that moment. His eyebrows pinch together over eyes that plead, that look just as exhausted as I feel inside, his mouth hanging open as he takes another desperate gasp of air. His chest heaves, and he glances towards his mother.

  Fuck, she’s right. What the fuck have I done?

  At this moment, I am responsible for every single person in this room. I have walked us all to the edge of a cliff, and I don’t know how to step back down. All I can feel is the churning pit of my stomach, fueled by Pooka’s raw fury, screaming violence like sickness through my body. It burns so hot I barely feel the chill of the room. The gun in my fingers rusts, metal tumbling free of polymer-components to the floor.

  Shion’s words clamor in my ears like the reverberations of gunshots. I am incapable of putting my hunger aside. I am too weak to control my basest impulses for another person, let alone a dozen other people. Starved, I will bite the hand that feeds me scraps again and again.

  I’m already a weapon. I’m already the squall they set upon their enemies. I’m an asset to be carefully managed and passed on to the next generation. I’m not human. I am not alive.

  This is the cycle that even Pooka has never escaped. I’ve lost sight of the something new I promised him. I’ve settled beneath the snow. I’ve fallen asleep in the winter of contentment and forgotten to yearn again for the spring. The battle has made us weary, for it never ends.

  And I am too fucking stupid and impulsive and reckless to change… anything. Myself or this world. I break when I get angry, and undo everything. Time and time again.

  The stab of pain in my neck is sudden.

  Regina’s hand withdraws from my single moment of distraction with an empty vial tipped with a long needle clenched within her fist.

  We snarl. White-hot pain rushes down my body, and the world spins. I stretch my hand to her as my knees tremble. I channel Pooka’s power, and as the flat of my palm lands around her wrist, I unleash a spark of lightning.

  She screams as she launches halfway across the room, and I collapse onto the floor, Pooka shrinking with me as my consciousness fades.