Imperfect Creatures, page 32
Even the technically proficient punch could not stop his knuckles from tearing. He had to fight the wires just to keep them in place. When they finally settled under his broken skin, Soul was back on his feet. Focusing on the wires in his legs, Dakota readied for his next lunge. It turned him into a missile, laser focused on the tip of Soul’s nose. In that fraction of a second, Soul managed to twist a hair out of reach while activating his icon. Using the wall as a springboard, Dakota launched himself back after him.
There was nothing Soul could do against Dakota’s barrage, blocking only a quarter of the hits he sent. Just as the glow faded, Dakota aimed a strong right at centre mass. It took both of Soul’s hands clamping Dakota’s fist to halt the strike millimetres from his chest. His momentum killed, Dakota used his newfound force to tear his arm free.
In the ring, he’d seen Allison use leg kicks to wear down her opponent over the rounds. It was something he hadn’t practiced, but he knew how to fight and gave it a try. His shin landed, but it did more than just redden Soul’s leg. The added strength made it different, forcing Soul to collapse and drop from view. For a second, he even thought that he’d snapped through bone. Wasting a second for confusion, Dakota redirected his next strike, sending Soul flying through the air.
Charging back at Soul, he was rewarded for his speed with a rising knee, ascending through Dakota’s unprepared face.
The shock rocked him, and for a brief moment he was paralysed, the wires going haywire within him. In that moment of regaining control, Soul hit him with a hard fist to his left shoulder, right where the snake was latched in. Dakota felt the pain like it had been his own jaw rocked, dragging a retreating step from his assault. Before Soul could manage another blow, Dakota sidestepped around him, sending in a low-swept kick to his ankles, following up with a hail of elbows. The defence Soul raised was so incapable any ref would rule a technical knockout.
Then something unexpected happened. Something he’d forgotten to even consider. Someone he forgot to take care of. Taking a running start, the Tooth and Claw girl named Jayda barrelled into both of them, throwing Dakota off his mounted assault.
Soul wasn’t able to push himself up this time. He backed away, crab-walking until his back was against the window. Dakota looked back, his eyes an industrial drilling machine boring into the girl. Tensing his muscles, he stepped forward, ramming his open palm into her face and pushing her to the floor. Before she could recover her breath, he raised his leg and slammed it back down. Her pelvis gave way and morphed around his foot as it almost hit the floor. She screamed, and it rung in his ears. It was enough to make him confident she would not be interfering for a third time.
Soul stared wide-eyed at the display, his horror eliciting an unparalleled disgust within Dakota. Surging forward, Dakota’s fist slammed into the glass, making a spiderweb crack, Soul caught in its centre. Soul was fast and agile, but his spiralling exhaustion set both those traits fading. Dakota struck fast. The broach began to glow. His fist landed, crushing into Soul’s face, making a ragdoll of his past pursuer. He was sent flying around the room and was barely offered a moment to scramble away before the glow died.
Hurled from wall to wall, every toss made Soul resemble his victims downstairs more. He was slower every time. Landing by the wall, right where Dakota had been shot, Soul grasped for the makeshift knife. Still adjusting it into his palm, Dakota made a final charge with everything he had.
The glow began again, and Dakota lessened his force, counting the seconds until it died once more. No more. This will be his last spell.
Three seconds left, and his lessened force allowed that metal shard a pathway into his chest. He cursed himself, realising that by relenting the pressure he had given Soul the opportunity. It pressed in hard, and it certainly felt like it would kill him. Not waiting to see what would happen, Dakota reached forward.
The glow died.
The pain went with it. He felt something cold in his hand. The broach, nearly crushed by his fingers. Pushing away, Soul had to use the wall itself to hold himself up. Running low on oxygen, his words became staggered and slow. “Give that back. I need it . . . to protect . . . my promise.”
Not heeding, barely listening, Dakota refused to lessen the pressure again. Every strike sent the wires chafing deeper into his very bones. He knew he was on his own countdown. Ducking a strike, Soul made a desperate grasp for Dakota’s shoulders, bringing them into a grapple. They circled around the office’s centre, edging closer and closer to the window, right until Soul shifted his weight, pushing Dakota against it. His breath left with the impact, and in that moment, Soul backed away to slam his shoulder hard into him, shattering the glass and sending them both tumbling down to the blood-soaked floor below.
Together they landed, and together they lost their grip, rolling apart through the crimson pool. The wind was gone from Dakota’s lungs, and now he was unable to stand. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Soul fumbling his way up, same as him. “Why won’t you just die?” he howled.
In heavy pants, Soul answered, “Only Lucina will kill me. We will die together when I complete my task and erase the threat.”
Dakota’s neck tensed, his veins begging to pop through his skin. “You’re the threat. Arya found a cure, was happy, but you . . . you brought back all the pain.”
Both were in a desperate struggle to be the first to rise. Both had managed to get only so far as their hands and knees. “That’s not possible.”
“Shut up!” Dakota screamed as he made it upright.
One last surge, that was all he had left. It was all he needed. Focusing on all the wires, he used the ones in his legs to propel him forward like a rocket while moving the ones in his arms to create the most powerful strike he’d ever seen. He started five meters away. He brought it to four. Soul got one leg under him and looked up, just in time for Dakota to make it down to three. Two, and he was almost there.
It happened so fast it was almost impossible to even understand. He controlled the wires to pull his arm through the arc of the punch. It extended all the way. Then kept extending, pulling his arm and bone until it snapped. Pain consumed his arm. He couldn’t deliver the punch, couldn’t even see Soul straight. He tried to undo the wires around the break. His control tainted, his wrist was dragged too, bending into an unnatural angle.
Hotter and harder than anything even Sensei had inflicted, the pain controlled his entire attention. With all his focus directed to his legs, the wires in his legs took an automatic step, pulling him forward and tearing into his thighs. Unable to stand, Dakota fell to the floor, just a hair in front of Soul.
Looking down as Dakota wrestled with his own wires for even just a semblance of control, Soul panted deeply. Every time Dakota tried to focus on one part, the rest of his body went haywire. Wherever the pain went, his mind followed, the wires tearing him further apart. They started constricting around his body so firmly it was hard to even breathe. The pool of blood, the floor, even Soul himself—all of it faded as every cell in his body screamed in agony, his own mana ripping him apart from the inside out.
Until, with the distorted words of his foe, he was delivered into a blissful nothingness. “Sorry, kid. This is for your own good.”
Chapter 48
Wood creaking underfoot, Soul stepped out of the store and back onto the road. The township was small, and the whispers of a visiting boy with a bandaged face rung loud. Walking through the canopy, he counted the number of children left, leaving him with the inescapable wistfulness of a quest near completed. Only seven more, and he would finally be able to return to Lucina and let it all end.
That name brought him back to a memory not dulled by age. Of returning home, Fraya in the back seat. There were some good moments after that, seeing his friends for the first time in months. They had come with well wishes and cheery greetings, hoping Fraya would feel better and asking for stories of what happened. He had never begrudged their response. Not the rage, or shouting, or even Darcy’s quiet comments that he had changed. He was a little frustrated, annoyed that she couldn’t understand he only did what he had to do. Annoyed she didn’t want to be with him anymore, and after months of letters being sent back and forth, leaving him at the funeral of all places. But looking back, he could understand. He was even grateful. If they were still together, he wasn’t sure he would have stayed on his path. He could only hope she found happiness wherever she was.
Reaching his rented car, he turned around to the creaking sound coming from the porch. An aging woman, the one he just asked, had stepped out after him. There was something about her that reminded him of Fraya’s mother, another person he hadn’t seen in years. She had been furious last time they’d met. If there was a single person to be happy about him leaving, he’d guessed it was her. She just kept calling him an idiot over and over, screaming that she was losing another child. He never knew what she meant. Fraya had no siblings.
The closer the woman stepped, the more he saw that something was off in her eyes. The tiny movements, the expression. Inside, she had seemed exhausted; now she looked scared. But it had only been a few seconds, a minute at most. She’d already told him about the bandaged boy. He couldn’t think what she had left to say. The changes weren’t just in her eyes but her whole body. The way she brushed back her hair, her posture. It was like looking at a wholly different person. “Soul.”
Immediately, he reached for his broach. He’d never told her his name. “Nikita? You are here too?”
Her lips tightened. It really threw off her attempt at looking offended. He guessed it should have come as no surprise that someone who relied on telepathy would be a terrible liar. It was cruel of her to use her telepathy to possess the old woman. No matter what she did, he could only retaliate against the innocent woman. Finally, the mockery of fake offence fell. “You got me.”
“Would you be so kind as to show up in person? To be honest, I am becoming tired of our dance.”
Through the woman’s face, Nikita smirked. “I’m hardly ready to give up so easily.”
He sighed. “Then why are you here?”
“Why, to bargain of course.” She said it with such a chipper smile he had to furrow his brows.
“You came to bargain?”
He couldn’t stand that smile, how she was twisting someone else into making it for her. “Well, Dakota did keep saying it was the best way. Or was it Allison? Oh, it’s just so hard to tell with those two. They’re just so . . . well, whatever. Anyway, I now have a way to make us both happy.”
The minx. Every interaction was proving that rumour more and more true. “And where are those two children of Koros now?” he said. “Did you set them free, or are you still using them for your own ends? That boy seemed to think you love him. You really found the best way to use others.”
“Why, thank you.”
He had to hold himself back from cursing at her, instead speaking flatly. “That was not a compliment.”
For her part, she just twisted the woman’s body to shrug. “Whatever. I came with an offer. That’s all that matters, right? See, you want the taboo users, and I want to live. Well, I’m willing to give you the barbie if you let me walk away and never come after me again. Whatcha say?”
When the twins had offered, he was so ready to accept. But in their answers, he knew they lacked his conviction. But Nikita, whom he had lowered all expectations for, still managed to limbo beneath them. “What?”
“Come on, think about it. A life for a life. I give you Arya, and you leave me alone.”
He didn’t even need to think before shaking his head. “You are disgusting.”
“Ever heard of something called a mirror?”
“At least I am not selling someone for my own life.”
“Yeah, you’re right. Maybe I should start killing folks. Would that make you happy? Listen, Soul. You’re not getting in. Dakota built a fortress, and it’ll be safeguarded better than you can imagine. In all likelihood you’ll die just trying to get through. And then who will murder all the other people if you’re not there to do it?”
If it wasn’t for the fact that the girl possessing the woman before him was so dangerous, he may well have just rolled his eyes at her. “If you believed any of that, you would not be out here trying to bargain.”
She shrugged, playing with her nails. It was so unnatural, Nikita clearly not used to the size and proportions of the woman she was possessing. “For now, sure. But once we finish you may as well give up.”
“So this is just you stalling me?”
“What? No.” Lowering the hand, she looked straight at him. “You will die if you come. But I can’t risk the chance you get to me before that happens. I’m just doing what I have to do to survive. How is there anything wrong with that?”
There were so many things he wanted to do right then, but none of them would matter, not against Nikita. “Not if it means living like this.”
She sighed. “Spare me. I’ll take lectures from politicians and actors before I take any from you. Now, do you want the pink head or not?”
“Her name is Arya Deharak, not ‘pink head.’”
“Oh my God, I don’t care.”
He could only shake his head, utterly at a loss from her display. “You really are unlike all the other children. You are the only one I dislike. They were unfortunate enough to have this atrocity thrust upon them. You seem to relish in it.”
“Oh, wow. So you’re basically just admitting that you’re victim blaming me? If you really thought this was an atrocity, you wouldn’t be doing it.”
“I am doing this because it is an atrocity! What Pedro did to you was truly awful. I want to spare you from the pain it will cause.”
“Wow. You know, you really do sound just like those hunters.”
He didn’t even think about what he was doing, his hand reacting on its own to lift the woman off her feet. Nikita didn’t even try to fight it. She was so light. He snarled to her. “I am nothing like them.”
The woman’s face was turning red and her veins were becoming visible. It was only then he realised what he was doing. He let go, stepping away and turning his back, unable to look into those eyes. “Can’t you see I’m trying to save you? That I’m doing all of this for you? You have no idea what they do to people like you. It is so much worse than death.”
He couldn’t help it, he saw that day, recalled what he had seen walking behind Helena. She had a tray of food with her, finally excited to have a psychologist come down to their little house in the middle of nowhere and try talking to her little girl. The girl who now screamed whenever someone got too close. The girl who always had that fearful look in her eye. The girl who only allowed one person to come near her, who was by all means a stranger. It was only in defeat that Helena begrudgingly came to accept Lucina’s aid. And then that day came when they walked in to see her swinging in the centre of the room, her bed sheets tying her to the lights.
“What gives you the right to decide for me what’s a fate worse than death? That’s my decision, not yours.”
Her words, of all the possible things to do so, brought him back to the present. “You do not understand. People like you are fated to suffer. If they do not get to you first, then you will lose control and go mad.”
“Bull. I won’t lose control.”
“Everyone loses control. It is a curse for a reason.”
“Well, hey, seems I’m the exception. Ten years and still going strong.”
“Your hometown is dead because of your power.”
“I was a child. I’m stronger now.”
“You cannot be serious.”
“Me? Look who’s talking!”
He couldn’t look back to her. If he did, he knew he might just snap. “You are the very definition of narcissism.” Closing his eyes, he paused, seeing the faces of them all before his eyes. His shoulders sunk. “Fine. Have it your way. Perhaps you are the exception. But not from strength. Because you are so self-centred that even if next time it’s a whole city you destroy, you still will not care. Not like how it eats away at Lucina’s very soul. Congratulations, I suppose.”
“I don’t want your congratulations. Just give me my life and let’s never see each other again.”
Shaking his head, he sighed. “Fine. Give me Arya and I promise not to come after you. But the orphans must not be there. They have suffered enough.”
“No, no, no. Call me crazy, but I somehow don’t exactly trust you. First I need some insurance.”
Taking a deep breath, he half-looked back her way. “What do you want?”
“I want your axe.”
“What?”
She repeated herself, stressing every word. “I want. Your. Axe.”
He shook his head. “It’s been with me since I was a child.”
“Do I look like I give a rat’s ass? I need insurance, some way to make sure you won’t turn around and use it on me.”
Unclipping it from under his shirt, he held it before his eyes. The voice of the liquid silver man in his internal world screamed and protested, crying for him to not give it to her. He had to push it back as hard as he could. “I give you this, and you will give me Arya?”
“I’ll tell you where she is and let you have her. No Temple, no child assassins. Just you and her.”
He had to lower it from his sight, unable to look at it properly. “You realise since you are a mage you cannot use it?”
“Why the hell would I want such an outdated arm? I just don’t want you to have it.”
There was no doubt at all that taking the deal would mean never finding her again. Not with her having a head start, not with her power. Not with the knowledge she extracted from two orphans of Koros. He could only pray she was right.
Squeezing the handle one last time, he let the old woman take it. He couldn’t bear to look. The moment it left his hand the voice disappeared for the last time. “She’ll be in Club Lunar tonight. It’s a place over in Isoval. You might want to hurry.”
