1 Skandar

    Huge fangs gleam in the unsteady glow of the street light. Solid yellow eyes hold me in place. I can’t move, can’t think, can’t breathe. What the hell is that thing? There’s no way its real! Something like that can’t possibly be real!

    It stalks forward, barbed tail twitching. I want to move; I need to move. But my body isn’t listening. There’s triumph in those horrid eyes. My vision blurs. I’m hyperventilating. Gotta move!

    It springs.

    I’m on the ground. My gaze locks with the creature’s. What just…?

    Claws rake down my chest. Something white is showing through my skin. Are those my…?

    A scream drowns in blood, unable to break free.  

    Stop! Stop!

    Glowing eyes. Slashing claws. Tearing teeth.

    So much red.

    So much pain.

    Make it stop!! Make it…

    I bolt upright, tangled in sheets. Sweat drips into my eyes as I focus on calming my breathing. Slowly, I stand and make my way into the bathroom. With an effort, I glance at my reflection in the mirror. The silver scars on my torso seem to glow in the moonlight.

    That’s right; I’d forgotten. It’s the fifth anniversary of my death.

****

    Sunlight streams through the windows of the main office building for the Realm of the Dead Association (RotDA) as I head for my squads’ headquarters. Footsteps slapping the floor in a dead run sound behind me. There’s only one person who would be running this early in the morning.

    “Morning, Skandar!”

    My partner, Chris, slaps me on the back and grins. Usually I don’t mind his energy, but today it’s a little too much. “Whatever.”

    Frowning, Chris studies me. “You okay?”

    “I didn’t sleep well last night,” I say as I slide into my chair. Piles of paperwork stare at me from the desk. I hold back a groan. Missions are interesting and I look forward to them, but the paperwork that goes with them is a pain in the ass.

    “Really?” From his expression, I can tell he’s calculating, thinking through all the possible reasons I couldn’t sleep. Something clicks and I sigh, waiting for the reaction. “It’s the fifth anniversary of your death, isn’t it?”

    “Give the genius a prize.”

    Chris is only amused. I guess after working with me for so long he’s become immune to my sarcasm. Pushing some papers out of his way, he sits on the edge of my desk. “Must’ve sucked.” His expression is hard to read, probably remembering his own death.

    The door slams open and everyone scrambles to their feet as Larissa, our squad leader, strides into the room. Her red hair is pulled up in a high ponytail and her green eyes scan the room. Finding everything satisfactory, she takes a seat at the big desk at the front of the room. At nineteen, Chris and I are some of the youngest members in RotDA, but Larissa’s fourteen. New recruits are always thrown by her age, and I was no exception. But it doesn’t take long for them to realize that Larissa is not someone to cross. So long as you stay on her good side you’ll be fine, but cause problems and you’ll find yourself stuck playing janitor for however long she sees fit.

     With a yawn, I sit back down and glare at the paperwork. Chris smirks. “You’ll have to do it eventually,” he says. “Might as well get it over with.”

    “You don’t want to do it?” I ask, though I already know the answer. It’s my turn to do the written reports.

A/N: I just want to let you know that I plan on posting four chapters a week, depending on my homework load. It’ll probably be on Wednesdays and Saturdays. Enjoy and let me know what you think.

2 Chris

     “Not a chance, bro,” I laugh, putting my hands up. “It’s your turn, and you know it.”

      Skandar just makes a face.

    I first met him five years ago. Back then he’d been restless, never able to sit still, always watching his surroundings. Then again, watching him now…A pen spins around and around in his hand as he glares at the form in front of him. I grin. Nope, he hasn’t changed.

    “Chris!” Larissa summons from her great mahogany desk.

    Skan glances at me. It’s his ‘what did you do’ look. All I can do is shrug. As far I remember I didn’t do anything during our last mission that would make Larissa mad. I learned not to do that years ago.

    “Christopher!”

    “Coming!” I call. Getting off Skan’s desk, I trudge up to where Larissa is standing. Her firecracker red hair’s pulled up into a practical ponytail and her avocado green eyes watch me as I approach. Something seems a bit off. Her aura is usually more cool and refined, but today she seems ruffled.

    “What’s up?” I ask.

    Standing, she gestures for me to follow her. As she opens the door leading to her inner office, she sighs, “I’ll show you.”

    What has her so frustrated? There’s a man sitting in the chair against the wall. He looks familiar. Wheat blond hair and slate grey eyes. Freckles on his nose and cheeks. Is he the cause?

    “Chris,” Larissa says. Her voice is tightly controlled. No doubt about it. He’s the problem. And judging from the way she’s acting, he’s one she doesn’t know how to solve. Why does he look so familiar? “Let me introduce you to Osborne.”

    Uh oh. I know where this is going.

    “It’s nice to meet…” I start, but Osborne is already out of his seat and grabbing my hand.

     “It’s an honor, Christopher Sanders,” Osborne squeals. “You’re one of the highest ranked agents! And you’ve only been here for thirteen years!”

     Don’t flinch. “Almost thirteen,” I correct. “And thanks.” Unable to get my hand back, I look over his shoulder at Larissa. “So what’s going on?”

      There’s a flash of annoyance and then resignation. Taking the seat Osborne abandoned, she says, “Osborne is a new recruit.” That I already know. He’s only been around for a few months but he’s already earned a record of being clumsy, clueless, and spacy. “Yesterday, he was reassigned to our squad for training. Seeing as…”

       “I’m only twenty-two, Larissa decided that you and Skandar Lynch would be perfect trainers,” Osborne finishes.

       It’s a good thing he isn’t facing her. If he was, she’d have strangled him. As it is, I’m amazed her glare hasn’t killed him. Not only did he interrupt her, but he skipped over her title.

        Skandar is going to kill me if I take Osborne into our care, but…leaving Osborne under Larissa’s supervision would be like sentencing him to death. Besides…maybe he just hasn’t been taught by the right people?

     Carefully removing my hand from his enthusiastic grip, I smile. “Sounds good to me. Are you okay with starting tomorrow at eleven?”

    Grey eyes bright, he nods. “I can’t wait!”

    I am so dead.

3 Skandar

            Done! With page three of ten. “Uhgg.” Paperwork sucks. Bored, I glance at Larissa. She’d come back a while ago, but Chris is still gone. Where’d he go? Did he get a solo job? Shaking my head, I flip the pen in the air and catch it. Larissa doesn’t like sending top ranking agents on solo jobs. A waste of our time when normal levels can do it.  So then where…?

            Scanning the room, I spot Chris making his way over. As he draws closer… Oh no. That smell…the cafeteria. “Dude,” I gag, pushing away from Chris and wrinkling my nose.

            “Sorry,” Chris mutters around a mouthful of Trinidad Moruga Scorpion peppers. The smell alone is making me tear up. So wrong.

            Spirits can’t taste or smell nearly as well as they could when they were alive. As a result, the food they eat is always some kind of extreme flavor, from salty to sweet to spicy to sour to et cetera et cetera.

            I, on the other hand, don’t have that problem, so eating the food is out of the question. Not that it’s a problem. We don’t actually have to eat to survive. Why we do anyway, I’m not sure. Maybe it’s just a natural instinct or maybe it helps us remember what it was like to be alive. Either way, whenever I want something I bring Chef Elda the latest kitchenware from the Realm of the Living (RotL), and in return I get to use the kitchen to make my own food.

            Wait a second. Trinidad Moruga Scorpion?

            “What has you so stressed out?” I ask as he sits down at his desk.

            “I’m not stressed,” he says.

            I just raise an eyebrow. Seriously? Avoiding my gaze, he runs a hand through his light brown hair, exposing the circular scar on his forehead. Another question, but not the one I want answered right now.

            “Whatever, man,” I say, turning back to the forms. Might as well get it over with.

            I’m halfway through the fifth page when Chris asks, “Have you heard about the newest recruit?”

            “The loser?” He nods. “What about him?”

            He bites another pepper and I wince. How does he do that? “What would you say to training him?”

            “Hell no,” I state simply.

            “That’s what I thought…”

            Suspicious I ask, “Chris? What did you do?”

            “Larissa assigned him to us.”

            “And you said YES?!” Is he crazy? That recruit, Ox…Oz…Oscar?...can’t even focus during a class let alone on a mission. I heard that just having him walk down a street without getting distracted is a challenge. How are we supposed to train someone like that?

            “Skan, it’s not going to be that bad,” Chris says. “He just needs some work.”

            “Then why are you saying it like a question?” I demand.

            Chris studies a pepper. “Because I’m not sure how this is going to work, either. But there is a chance that he’ll get better. We might as well try.” His blue eyes turn to me.

            “Fine,” I sigh. “I’ll give him a chance.” With a nod, Chris grabs the last five sheets and the pen. “What are you doing?”

            “Think of it as a thanks for not killing me,” he grins.

            Across the room there’s a crash. “Sorry!” an overly happy voice yells. I groan. I might just eat one of those peppers, prepare myself for the disaster heading straight for us.

4 Chris

            “He’s late,” Skandar snarls as he leans against the wall. He’s already fidgeting with his gun, sliding magazines in and out.

            “Only by ten minutes,” I reply calmly. “Even some of the top teams are a little late.” Skandar just shrugs in the way that says “what a bunch of…”

            We’re standing in front of the gate that leads to the RotL. Carved angels soar around the frame, chasing demons and ghosts. Iridescent lights glide between the two pillars and I can’t help but wish that I existed on the other side. Shaking my head, I glance down the hallway. I’m dead and that won’t change, but I can still make a difference.

            “Fifteen minutes,” Skan announces. “We need to get going or Larissa will come after us.”

            With a sigh, I nod. “Alright. Let’s…”

            “Wait!” a voice yells.

            Skandar pushes away from the wall, arms crossed dangerously across his chest. Immediately, I move between the two. It’s only Osborne’s first day, and I’m not going to make him face Skandar head on. His hair is messy and it looks like his shirt is on backwards. Oh boy…this is not a good start.

            “Sorry I’m late,” Osborne pants. “I overslept.”

            “It’s okay,” I tell him as Skandar rolls his eyes. “But try to be on time from here on out, alright?”    

            “I will! I promise!” Osborne beams.

            “I wonder how many times he’s said that,” Skandar mutters. I give him a look and he sighs. “Okay, Os, did you…”

            “Osborne,” Osborne corrects, treading on dangerous territory.

            Blue eyes turning to ice, Skandar says, “Right. Osborne. You pick up your weapon?”

            “I haven’t been able to make my own,” Osborne tells him. “So I don’t have one.”

            With a sigh, Skan shakes his head. “Seriously?” When Osborne nods, Skandar asks, “Did you at least grab a generic one?”

            “Do I need one?”

            As Skandar moves towards him, I place a restraining hand on his arm. “We’re hunting demons today, so it would be a good idea,” I explain to Osborne.

            “Okay! I’ll go get one.”

            As he scampers off to find it, Skan pulls away and returns to his place on the wall. “Bright one,” he comments. His voice is acidic.

            “Give him a chance,” I sigh as I strap my scabbard to my hip. “For all we know, he just has a bad memory.”

            “If you say so.”

            Two minutes pass before Osborne comes back. He’s armed with a sword and bouncing on his toes. “Can you use it?” I ask him.

            “Sort of,” Osborne shrugs. “I only started training with it last week.”

            “Oh.” I turn to Skan. Judging by the look in his eyes, he already knows what I’m going to say; protect Osborne during a fight.

            Without a word, Skandar turns and goes through the gate. I gesture for Osborne to go first and, once I’m sure he’s clear, I follow.

5 Skandar

        “Wow, look at that!” Osborne yells for the thirtieth time. The rumors didn’t do him justice. Nothing holds his attention for more than a few seconds. We’ve been in the RotL for twenty minutes and I’m already going insane. Chris gives me a sympathetic smile before running after Osborne, who’s wandered into a liquor store. Is that guy really three years older than us?

        “Wow! Did you…?” he starts as Chris guides him back to where I’m waiting.

        “Finish that sentence and I take you back to the RotDA,” I snap. Silence. Wonderful silence.

        “Wow!”

        That’s it! Chris puts a hand on my shoulder. “Don’t,” he whispers.

        When I nod, he lets go. Breathe. You’re still tense after yesterday. Maybe Chris is right. Maybe the kid just takes a while to learn.

        “Look at the tower! It’s so tall. I’ve never seen something so tall. See, I lived in the countryside so I never got to see a city. And all the buildings at my community college were only a few stories. Say, can we go up when we’re done with the mission? It would be so cool to…”

        I try not to groan. Would someone please make it sto…Something moves in my peripheral vision and I spin around. A scaly tail disappears into the ally a few blocks down. No mistake. Demon. “Chris!”

        “I saw,” he replies. “Lets move.”

        Pulling my gun from its holster as I run, I add a magazine. This is where I excel, I live, I thrive. Already my blood is pounding. Chris is keeping pace and calling the sighting in to Larissa. I have no idea where Osborne is. Not sure if I care. Right now the only thing I want to focus on is that demon.

        As I skid around the corner, I see it. These things are always ugly, and this one is no exception. It’s some kind of creepy mix of giant cat and monster lizard. Lizard tail and claws. Cat like body covered in scales. Chris’s weapon is better suited for that. Bright red spikes stick out from its elbows and tail. Steer clear. Fangs that fold in. That means venom or acid. Looks like a level B demon. All the more fun.

        Not bothering to hide my smile, I ask, “Shall we?”

        Fangs extended, the demon charges. Bring it on. Clicking the safety off, I run to meet it. Just as it reaches me, I dive under its belly and fire five shots. There’s a blur of motion next to me and then Chris is slicing into the creature’s left front leg. My turn. I bury three shots into the wound as Chris withdraws and circles to find his next opening.

        I pull back to load another magazine and watch as the B rears up and spits acid. I duck behind a dumpster as Chris jumps out of the way. All at once there’s a crazy yell and Osborne’s charging the beast with his sword raised over his head. One, that leaves him completely exposed. Two, it’s suicide. Three, he doesn’t know how to use it. Four…no time for four.

        Osborne’s right in front of the demon. With a single swipe with its claws, it sends him flying into the brick wall. Now there’s a dent. Great. More paperwork. Sensing an easy snack, the B lunges at Osborne.

        “Watch out!” Chris shouts, sprinting to intercept it. Sparks fly as huge claws rake across steel. Straining under the weight, Chris calls, “Skan, get him out of here!”

        Of course. Easily avoiding Chris and the demon as they fight, I grab Osborne by the collar and drag him out of the ally. “Stay out of the way,” I say as I turn to join Chris. There’s a shout. The demon is opening its mouth. Osborne isn’t moving. I shove the idiot to the side.

        I flinch. Acid. Damn.

        “Skan?!” Chris shouts. “You alright?”

        “Fine,” I yell. My back hurts, but it’s not the worst injury I’ve ever had. Leveling the gun, I unload two at the demon’s eyes but my aim is off. It crawls up the wall. Perfect. Just perfect.

        “You sure you’re okay?” Chris asks.

        “Yeah!” I growl as I empty what’s left of the magazine into the level B’s right claw.

        The beast roars and spits more acid. I spin to the side as Chris jumps up to the fire escape, catching the rail and slamming his feet against the bars. Without missing a beat, he kicks off and plunges his blade deep into the creature’s back. Blood gushes from the wound as he pulls back. The acid on my back is starting to eat through my skin. Gritting my teeth, I slam a new magazine into place. With a hiss of pain, I lift my arm just as it disappears onto the roof. Chris is right behind it. Cursing, I start up the fire escape. When I get to the top, Chris is dodging the claws and trying to get close enough to attack. Pissed, I unload the clip into the thing’s yellow eyes.

         Blind, the level B spins around, swinging its tail in a wide arc and spitting acid. “Watch out!” Osborne yells. When did he get up here? Chris turns to him and flinches as acid splashes across his face and left hand. I lunge in front of Osborne and the tail sends me slamming into the heating unit. There are lines of blood where its spikes scratched my chest. Osborne’s gonna pay for this.

            “You’ve got it, guys! Kill it!” Osborne yells from the same exact place.

            “Got it?!” I shout. “Does it look like this is under control?!”   

            Furious, the level B throws its head back and lets loose another roar. It charges forward and, before I can tell the moron to move, it has Osborne pinned beneath its paw. I slam another magazine into place and fire a shot into its mouth before it tears the dumbass apart. Then Chris’s sword is slicing through the beast’s neck, drenching both of them with blood. As the huge body collapses and begins to dissolve, Chris stands still for a moment before saying, “That was...eventful.”

            My back’s killing me and I am not in the mood. He knows as well as I do that we’d have been better off without Osborne.

6 Chris

         As we enter the infirmary, Heidi looks up and focuses on me. “Chris, is all that blood…?”

        “It’s not mine,” I reassure her.

        Skandar laughs. “He just decided to shower in demon blood.”

        Heidi just clicks her tongue at us. She’s an agent that’s been here for about thirty-seven years, is one of our best doctors, and has heard just about every explanation imaginable. It takes a lot to surprise her. “So what exactly happened to you boys?”

        “Level B,” I reply as I sit down.

        “A moron,” Skandar corrects.

        Pausing with one arm in her coat, Heidi looks at him. “The new recruit?”

       “Yeah,” I sigh. “It didn’t go well.”

        “Understatement,” Skan mutters as he picks dried blood from his black hair.

        “Injuries?” she asks, walking over to the medicine closet.

        Gingerly, I lift my right hand to my face. “Acid burns on my face and left hand.”

        “Skan?”

        He shifts against the wall and winces. “Acid burns on my back. I was thrown against a heating unit. And I have a few scratches on my chest.”

        “Species?”

        “Cat lizard,” Skandar replies, studying his shirt.

        After a few more seconds of rummaging through the medicine closet and muttering to herself, Heidi selects a large brown bottle and pours some on two cloths. Coming over to me, Heidi gently presses one against my face and places the other on my hand. When I hiss in pain, she gives me a sympathetic smile. “Keep this on. It’ll stop the acid. I need to treat Skandar.”

            When Skan pulls his shirt over his head, I hold back a gasp. The acid has burned deep into his back. Exposed muscle quivers as Heidi pours the bottle of antiacid over it. Skandar’s jaw clenches, but he stays quiet, unable to pass out. If our injuries wouldn’t cause instant death, then we won’t lose consciousness and the only way to pass on to the complete afterlife is by having our spirit torn apart so badly that we fade.

         Heidi dabs a cloth against Skandar’s back and this time his breath catches. I flinch and he notices. “Relax, Chris. It’s not that bad.”

        “But…”

        “It’s not a big deal,” he insists.

        I want to call him a liar, to say “I know you better than that”. But I don’t. There’s no point. I’d say the same thing in his position.

        When Heidi finally releases us, we head for our rooms. “About Osborne…,” I start.

        “I think we need to start with the basic in-class lessons before taking him on another mission,” Skandar interrupts. Surprised, I look at him. “What? You’re the one who wants to train him.”

        “You sure?”

        He hesitates. “No. But if we’re going to do this, I want to get a few other teams in on it. That way we can rotate the moron around. If a team gets hurt, then someone else can take him.”

        Something in his voice warns me. “You’re going to make his training hell aren’t you?”

        “No pain, no gain,” Skandar smirks.

7 Chris

         “Okay, Osborne,” Laurel says. Her cinnamon brown hair is held back in a bun and she’s sitting on the table next to him. I’m at the whiteboard ready to clarify the answer if Osborne gets it wrong. “How are demons ranked?”

         Grey eyes narrowing, Osborne tilts his head and stares at the ceiling. “By their strength,” he says slowly. When he pauses, I give him an encouraging nod. “Level A’s are the strongest and level E’s are the weakest.” He looks at Laurel for conformation.

        “Correct,” she beams. “You’re really understanding this.” Osborne is practically glowing. That’s one reason why I asked her to help me teach him.         Rumor is that she was a special ed teacher before she was killed by one of her students. But it’s just rumor. Most of us don’t talk about when we were alive or how we died. Though watching her work with Osborne, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was a teacher of some kind.

        Glancing at her packet, Laurel nods. “Next question. Are you ready?” Eager, Osborne leans forward. “What is the difference between a spirit and a ghost?”

        He frowns. This has been a hard one since we started. “Come on,” I whisper. “You can do this.”

        A light flicks on in his eyes and he grins. “Ghosts are the evil ones that go back to the RotL without permission and spirits are like us.”

        “Right, but not all ghosts are evil,” I clarify, drawing on the board. “Some are just lost or looking for something. Others just want to say one last good-bye.” As I join Laurel at the table, I look at the packet. “Last question. How can you identify a ghost?”

        “They look dead,” Osborne replies immediately. “They’re all pale and sickly looking. We look like we did when we were alive.”

        “Correct.”

        Leaning forward, he asks, “How’d I do? How’d I do?”

        Laurel flips through the packet, calculating. Finally, she says, “Eighty percent.”

        “Is that good?” It’s obvious that he’s nervous. He’s so desperate to please.

         “You pass,” I explain. “Nice job.”

        “Yes!” he cheers. “I did it! I did it!” Jumping out of his seat, he does a victory dance. Laurel looks away and, not for the first time, I’m glad Skandar doesn’t help out in the classroom.

        “You’re free to go,” Laurel tells him as she collects her things.

        “Thanks, guys!” Giving us both a quick hug, he bolts out the door and screams, “I passed!” Again, so glad Skandar isn’t here.

         With Osborne gone, I help Laurel clean up the room. “Thanks for helping me teach him.”

         She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

        “To be honest, I wasn’t sure how I’d get him to learn anything.” As I erase the whiteboard, I shake my head. “I’m amazed he learned so much in only a month and a half.”

         “Every person has their own learning method,” she explains with a modest shrug. “Once I found his, I just had to adjust the lessons.”

          Holding the door for her, I smile. “Well, thanks again. You were a huge help.”

          “It wasn’t a big deal. I enjoyed it.” She pauses and places a gentle hand on my shoulder. “I noticed yesterday that you don’t look well. Are you alright?”

           I drop my gaze. “My thirteenth anniversary is coming up. That’s all.”

           There’s a motherly tenderness in her hazel eyes. “If you need anything, just let me know.”

           “Thanks.”

8 Skandar

        I can feel the blade move. It’s getting closer. Wait. Wait. The hum of the keen edge vibrates against my skin. Now.

        Letting myself relax, I rotate so that the blade is parallel to my body. I can feel it. Greg’s put too much forward momentum into his attack; I don’t need to move, he’ll come straight to me. The instant he’s close enough, I strike. It doesn’t last long after that.

        “I…surrender,” Greg gasps.

        Offering him a hand, I pull him to his feet. “Good match.”

        Greg shakes his head. “Not even close. Even when you’re blindfolded I can’t beat you.”

        “You’ll get there,” I tell him. He’s off to my left. The air is moving more on that side.

        He laughs. “Who knows. Thanks for the help.”

        “No problem.”

        As he leaves, I can hear another set of footsteps approaching. “Well done, Skandar,” General Eli says as I pull the blindfold off. “Your ability to sense your surroundings is improving.”

        “Thanks, General,” I reply. When he stays quiet, I glance at him and sigh. “But?”

        He laughs. “Chris taught you that, didn’t he? Your partner certainly has a talent for reading people.”

        “No kidding.” I’d learned that the first day we met. He’d been the only one to see through my fighting method. “So, what did I do wrong?”

        Taking the blindfold from me, General Eli ties it over his eyes. “Allow me to show you. Challenge open.”

        “Challenge closed,” I say I as ease into a fighting stance. Already I feel more comfortable. Slowly, I circle him. I’m not stupid enough to make the first move in this fight. There’s a reason he’s the General. The rhythm of this fight will be set by him.

        I’m not kept waiting. A blur of movement and he’s next to me, hand extended to plunge into my abdomen. Instinct kicks in and I’m no longer thinking, I’m feeling, breathing, living battle. Catching his wrist, I launch myself up and over his head, using my momentum to bring the rest him with me. The floor shakes as he hits the floor. First strike mine.

        But that was a lucky move. He won’t be so open again. Already he’s back up and he knows where I am. This time I don’t wait. I lunge forward and twist to the right, hoping to get a hit in on his ribs. Too slow. Damn!

        He catches my hand and, as he twists, says, “Larissa. Alex. Come to watch the fight?”

        Huh? Confused, I look beyond the ring. Larissa is standing next to Alex, the captain of the poor squad to last have Os. I hadn’t heard them come in. Something clicks and I groan.

    General Eli releases my hand. “Seems you’ve realized what you need to work on.” Taking off the blindfold, he studies me. “Your battle instincts are well-developed. You’re getting stronger and wiser. However, you are not aware of the surroundings beyond your opponent.”

        “Yes, General.”

        With a smile, he tosses me the blindfold. “Keep practicing. Maybe one day you’ll be stronger than me.”

9 Skandar

        Bang! Bang! Bang! Setting my gun down, I study the target. Not bad.

        There’s a tap on my shoulder. I spin around, startled. Laurel? “What are you doing here?” I ask. Her mouth moves, but I can’t hear anything. “Huh?” With a small smile, she points to her ears and then to mine. Oh yeah, the earplugs. As I pull them out, I repeat, “What are you doing here? If you’re looking for Greg, he left a few hours ago.”

        “No, I saw my partner at dinner,” she replies. “I just wanted to give you an update on Osborne’s progress.”

        “Oh?”

        Nodding, she hands me a packet. As I skim through it, she says, “He passed with an eighty percent this afternoon.”

        “So it’s my turn to train him,” I mutter as I start cleaning the gun.

        “Correct.” Laurel sits on the counter near me. From the look in her eyes, there’s something bothering her.

        “What’s wrong?”

        “You know Chris’s anniversary is coming up, right?”

        That’s right. I haven’t seen him a lot lately so I missed the signs. “I’ll keep an eye on him,” I reply.

        “Good.” She stands and picks up her bag. As she leaves, she calls, “It’s getting late. You might want to call it a day.”

        Late? I glance at the clock. Six! The training hall closes in ten minutes.

****

        Shaking the last of the water out of my hair, I grab my shirt. The hair on the back of my neck suddenly rises and I freeze. There’s something outside the locker room.

        “I underestimated their strength.”

        I don’t recognize the voice. And there’s something very wrong with it. It sounds human, how it vibrates, how it moves, but there’s a strange growl underneath it and that’s definitely not human. It’s more like a…a demon.

        “Is it going to ruin our plan?” This voice is younger, less powerful, but just as vicious.

        “No,” the older one replies. It’s calm. Too calm. “We simply need to make a few adjustments that will whittle down their numbers. Nothing you can’t handle.”

        “Shall I use the…?” The voice is cut off abruptly and I feel a chill go down my spine. Did they sense me?

        “Hello?” that all too familiar voice calls into the dark. “Is someone in here?”

        Osborne! What the hell is that idiot doing here? Slowly, carefully, I reach towards my gun on the counter. If he’s attacked, he’ll be dead in seconds.

        The lights turn on and I sprint into the training hall, gun ready. I scan the room. Nothing. No one but the loser at the doorway. Clicking the safety back on, I walk over to him. “Why are you here?” I ask.

        “I heard voices,” he replies. “Did you hear them?”

        I pause and scan the room again. For a second I think I see a shadow move in a corner, but I’m not sure. This isn’t good. Whatever those things were, they didn’t sound friendly. And, based on how the older one reacted to the change in plans, they’ve been planning this for a while. I glance at Osborne. He doesn’t belong in all of this.

        “No,” I reply. “What voices?”

10 Chris

            A knock on my door pulls my attention away from my thoughts. “Yeah?”

            “Hey, man. Can I come in?” Skandar asks.

            Sitting up slowly, I call, “Sure.” As he comes in and sits backward on my desk chair, I study him. His hair is damp and his blue eyes are electric with energy. He must’ve been training. There’s a brief flicker in his eyes, but it’s too well hidden to make out what he’s thinking. “What’s up?”

            “Laurel told me that Os passed.” Is that what’s bothering him?

            I nod. “Yeah. We can start focusing more on his physical training now. I looked over his past records yesterday. Apparently he has the basic skills needed for using an axe and a gun. I was thinking we should build off of that instead of introducing him to something new.”

            “Sounds like fun,” he mutters.

            I lean against the wall with a sigh. “What do you have against him anyway?”

            Not meeting my gaze, Skandar stares out the window. He’s quiet, but I don’t push it. Right now he’s considering his words, trying to find a way to mask what he really thinks. He’s been doing this ever since I met him and I wonder if he’ll ever be completely honest, with me and with himself.

            Finally, he says, “He doesn’t belong here. He’s weak and…and…”

            “Stupid?” I suggest.

            “I wasn’t going to say that.”

            Shaking my head, I sigh. “You were thinking it.” We fall silent. After a while I say, “So he isn’t the brightest, but he tries hard and he wants to please everyone. And I think that with enough time he’ll be able to help in the field. Who knows, maybe he’ll…”

            “No,” Skandar interrupts.

        “Why?”

        Skandar’s voice drops. I can barely make it out as he whispers, “He’s naïve, innocent. Someone like him doesn’t belong on a battlefield. Not with all the blood, the pain, the fear. He should be behind a desk working with files where the biggest problem is paper cuts.” Running a hand through his black hair, he sighs.

            Now I get it. It’s just like when he was training to become an agent. Everyone thought that he was showing off when he got involved with someone else’s fight. But all he was doing was… “You’re trying to protect him,” I observe.

            “As if,” Skandar grimaces. Getting up, he heads for the door. “You’re taking the next four days off.”

            “Huh?”

            Eyes stern, he looks at me. “The anniversary of your death is coming up. So take it easy.”

            “But…” I start.

            He cuts me off. “If you have to do something, you can fill out paperwork. Nothing else. Got it?”

            “Yeah.” As he turns away, I say, “You aren’t as cold as people think.”

            Without looking at me, he mutters, “Don’t make me sound like you.”

11 Skandar

        Nothing seems off as I enter our squad’s base, but I can’t shake the feeling that I’m being watched. Casually, I scan the room. Laurel and Greg are prepping for a mission. Behind them, Osborne is looking through the storeroom for a weapon. Kira and Mary are lounging at their desks and painting their nails. Personally, I don’t get why they bother. It’s just going to get chipped next time they head out.

        There’s nothing wrong. Taking a deep breath, I make my way over to Larissa’s desk.

        “Larissa?” She glances at me before turning back to the report in front of her. “I need to talk to you.”

        This catches her attention. I don’t usually seek her out and I never come to her without Chris. That’s probably because he’s better at the whole addressing a superior thing.

        “Alright. What’s on your mind?”

        “Not here,” I reply. She looks at me sharply. “Not here.”

        Slowly, she gets up and heads into her inner office. I follow after her. Once the door is closed, she turns to face me. “What’s going on?”

        “An enemy found a way to monitor the RotDA,” I say.

        She tilts her head slightly and her red ponytail swishes as she moves to sit behind her desk. “Why do you say that?” She isn’t dismissing the idea. But she only works with facts.

        “Last night I heard two voices in the training hall.”

        Immediately, she leans back and her green eyes lock on me. Cue interrogator mode. “When was this? Did you recognize them?”

        Leaning against the wall, I reply, “It was a little past six and no, I didn’t recognize them.”

        “Were there any distinguishing features to the voices?”

        A chill runs down my spine at the memory. She notices and her eyes narrow. “They weren’t human and they were too clear to be a ghost. They sounded like...” I pause. If I say it, I’ll sound crazy.

        “Like?” she asks.

        “Like demons.”

        She blinks and leans back in her chair. That wasn’t what she’d been expecting. To catch her so off guard is rare. For several minutes, she just sits there, biting her thumbnail. Finally she asks, “Are you sure?”

        “No. I’ve never heard of a demon being able to talk, but it felt like one.”

        Slowly, she nods. “Your instincts are too sharp to be ignored. What did they say?”

        I close my eyes and picture the event. “There was an older one talking with a younger one. That’s what it sounded like anyway. The older one said that it had underestimated our strength, but it said that it wouldn’t mess up the plan. All they would need to do is knock a few of us off. It sounded like the younger one was in charge of that.”

        Drumming her fingers against her knee, she asks, “Did they say how they were going to do it?”

        With a sigh, I shake my head. “No. Osborne showed up and they vanished without a trace.”

        “I see.” Again, she pauses. I get that she’s thinking, but I want to know what she thinks. When I’m ready to demand an explanation, she says, “Go tell General Eli to call a meeting among the captains.”

        “Sure.”

        As I open the door, she calls, “Skandar.”

        “Yeah?”

        “Don’t mention this to anyone. We don’t want to cause a panic.”

        “Understood.”

12 Skandar

        “I’m sorry for being late, Eli,” Jushiro, the last of the seven captains to show up, says as he closes the door behind him. “There were some matters I needed to attend to.”

        Already, I feel trapped and claustrophobic. Too much formality for my taste. As Jushiro sits down, I look over the rest of the group and run their stats in my head. Larissa, fifty years as an agent. Alex, sixty-two. Naima, eighty-nine. Jushiro, ninety-three. Vafara, one hundred-eleven. Malik, a hundred and one. Diata, seventy-seven.

        And General Eli, three hundred-twenty-two. Most agents retire after a century and a half, but he’s decided to stay. Leaning back against the wall, I put a hand on my scars. Can’t blame him. I have no intention of retiring, not when there are demons to hunt.

        “Shall we proceed?” Malik asks. I make a face. Correction: I’m not retiring as long as I never have to be at all these meetings.

        “Of course,” Eli replies. He gestures for Larissa to stand. “Larissa, would you mind telling us what’s going on?”

        “Not at all.” As she stands, Malik mutters something about children. The only reaction he gets is a quick glance. “There is a possible threat to the Realm of the Dead Association that we need to discuss.”

         Diata raises an eyebrow. “What makes you say that?”

         Larissa meets her gaze. “Skandar overheard an alarming conversation last night.”

         “You summoned us here based off of this rookie’s word?” Malik snarls. “He’s too young to know what would count as a threat. And he lives for battle. How do we know that his bloodlust didn’t skew his perception of what he heard?”

          I’ve never liked Malik. To him, everything is about tradition and any agent below sixty is useless and, as he puts it, “wet behind the ears.” And what the hell is wrong with me excelling in battle? At least I actually go on missions. All he does is sit on his skinny little ass and sort papers. My hand drops to my side. Damn bastard’s lucky Larissa made me disarm.

         General Eli says, “Now, Malik. Skandar is one of our most capable agents and his instincts are more developed than many agents who have been here longer.” There’s a gleam in his grey eyes as he adds, “Maybe more than you.” Across the table, Vafara smiles softly.

         Larissa clears her throat. “Ahem. There are more important matters to discuss.” Turning to me, she asks, “Skandar, would you please tell them exactly what you told me?” It was more an order than a request.

        When I had finished my story, there was silence. Naima and Diata are holding a silent conversation with their eyes while Alex drums his fingers against the arm of his chair. Jushiro hasn’t moved. Vafara’s running her fingers through her dark brown hair with a thoughtful expression. General Eli is resting his chin on his hands. The asshole is the only one who doesn’t seem to care.

        After a few more moments, Alex asks, “So, how do we approach this?”

        “I don’t believe this is a threat,” Malik says, waving his hand. I really wish I had my gun. “I believe we should be focusing on the problem we know actually exists. The increased demon and ghost activity has made the barrier between our realm and the Realm of the Living more and more unstable. Besides, there is no force that can monitor the RotDA. Our security is flawless and has been designed and improved upon for thousands of years.”

        “All the more reason to give this more thought,” Jushiro says. “After so long, we’ve become too reliant on the System. It assigns our agents missions, helps us train, monitors demons and ghosts, and even records agent profiles.” He shakes his head. “If there is a flaw, we wouldn’t necessarily be aware of it.”

        “It’s better to be safe rather than sorry,” Naima agrees.

        “Which brings us back to Alex’s question,” Larissa says. “How do we approach this?”

        “We need to alert our squads and…”Diata starts.

        Vafara shakes her head slowly. “No.”

        “Someone who agrees with me,” Malik says. “At least I’m not the only one who’s thinking clearly.”

        There’s something cold in her smile as she looks at him. “No, Malik. I do not share your opinion.”

        “Then why…?”

        “We don’t want to cause a panic, not with so little information,” Eli interrupts. Standing, he looks all the captains over. “Right now we have the advantage. Our enemy is unaware that we know that we’re being watched. Let’s keep it that way. The information we have just learned is not to leave this room unless I give permission. If there’s an agent you think will be helpful in tracking this threat down, come to me. Alex. Naima.”

        “Sir?”

        “Go through the System. See if there are any weaknesses. If you find anything suspicious, report back to me.”

        “Understood.”

        “Good. For now, all of you are to keep to your usual activities. Be on alert and see if you can find any more information. Dismissed.” As Larissa and I turn to follow the rest out of the conference room, he says, “Hold on a moment.”

        “Yes, sir?” Larissa asks.

        He smiles. “At ease, Larissa. I just wanted to thank you for bringing this to our attention.”

        “It was nothing, General,” Larissa says. She sounds formal, but I can tell she likes the compliment…man, I’ve been around Chris too long.

        “And Skandar.”

        “General.”

        “Well done. Keep those senses of yours open.”

        “I will.”

13 Chris

            Thwack. Clack. Thock. Clack.

            “One. Two. Three. Two. Come on, Os, too slow,” Skandar instructs as he practically dances around the panting Osborne.

            “It’s Osborne!” Osborne protests. Lunging, he aims his wooden axe at Skandar’s right leg.

            Thwack! Skandar’s gun catches the blow and I flinch even as he starts to move forward. Osborne had made an opening and Skan has never been a forgiving teacher. Crack. That has to hurt.

            With a sigh, Skandar holsters his gun and studies his student/punching bag. On the ground, Osborne is rubbing his ribs. Even from here, I know what my partner is thinking. It’s been two weeks since he’d started training the recruit in combat and there hasn’t been a lot of improvement.

            “Five minute break,” Skandar orders, moving to the other side of the ring.

            Grabbing a water bottle, I head over to Osborne. “Here.”

            He gives me a grateful smile as he takes it. “Thanks.”

            “No problem.”

            After draining half the bottle, he looks away. “Can I ask you something?”

            “Sure. What’s on your mind?”

            His gaze flickers to Skandar. “Does he hate me?”

            That’s not an easy question to answer. Their personalities aren’t ones that are usually compatible and he does annoy Skan a lot. But at the same time, Skan doesn’t want him to get involved with all of this. Finally, I say, “He’s not the easiest to get along with. I don’t think he hates you, but I know he’s frustrated.”

            There’s a wounded look in Osborne’s slate grey eyes. “I’m not trying to annoy him.”

            Skandar is going to kill me. I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s more like he’s worried about your safety. The faster you learn, the more you’ll be able to defend yourself.”

            “Breaks over!” Skan interrupts, coming over. “Os, gear up.” As Osborne scrambles to obey, Skandar turns on me. “Don’t tell him things he doesn’t need to know.”

            How’d I know? “Try to be a little nicer about the training,” I suggest.

            “If he wants to fight demons, he needs to be up for it. It’s far from nice.”

            “This isn’t his learning method,” I point out.

            “Learning method isn’t worth a damn in battle,” he replies.

            I sigh. I won’t win this argument today. “Just don’t kill him.”

             Grinning, Skandar enters the ring. “No promises.”

           When the sounds of training resumes, I head for the cafeteria. After my death anniversary, I force myself to go to the cafeteria at least three times a week. If I didn’t, I’d never be able to face that kind of setting again, and this seems like the best way to readjust.

         “Chris!” Alex calls from behind me.

          “Captain?”

        Coming over to me, he hands over a slip of yellow paper. A solo mission. “The System assigned you to the job. Larissa is working with Diata on a project so she asked me to deliver it.”

       “Thank you.”

       “You’re welcome.”

        I guess the cafeteria visit will have to wait. Oh well.

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry about the one chapter post this Wednesday. It’s midterms and my teachers piled on a ton of homework. I tried to make this one a little bit longer and I’ll do my best to make up for the missing chapter. With any luck I’ll be able to post two (maybe three if I get lucky) chapters on Saturday.

Thank you so much to those who have stuck with my story so far. It really does mean a lot. Let me know what you think.

Anne

14 Chris

          I glance the mission over as I head for the portal. It looks like a relatively simple job. Two level D signals were detected in a suburb in Norway. There shouldn’t be too many people around and, since it’s a small town, I can lure the demons away from the living.

         Double checking my scabbard, I face the elegant, iridescent lights. This is my favorite part about being an agent. I have a chance to see the world and make a difference. No one knows but the Association and our Sovereign, but that’s enough. “Sovereign,” I whisper. “Watch over me.”

****

         Pumpkin orange and apple red leaves crunch as I wander down the streets. The crisp air feels good. I’ve missed the fall season. Memories of celebrating with my friends and family push to the front of my mind. Tears threaten to fall and I shake my head. Now isn’t the time. Another blast of air rushes past and I catch the scent of something rotting. Demons.

         Dropping my hand to the hilt of my sword, I follow the smell. None of the people I pass seem to notice it, though I’m not surprised. Most of the living can’t smell or see the demons, or us, unless they’re about to be attacked or on the verge of dying. Or if they have a heightened sixth sense.

         As I pass the park, I gag. This is the source. I move in carefully, alert for an attack. Something glistens on the grass. Snake bat mucus. Two of them.

        “Larissa,” I radio. “I found them. Two snake bats. Level D.”

        “Copy that, Chris,” her voice crackles.

        I look back at the trail. Judging by the color of the mucus, they’ve just fed. That means they’ll be sluggish.

        There’s a rustle of scales underneath the main playground. I can see the tip of a wing from where I am. Slowly, I stand and draw my sword, Quicksilver. It’d be suicide to go in after them. I need to draw them out. But if they’ve fed, then…I sigh. I’m not fond of this method.

        One of the things that nearly always works is the blood of a spirit. It excites them and, if they drain a spirit, they grow stronger. Taking a deep breath, I slide my palm across Quicksilver’s keen edge. A few drops fall to the grass before I get the reaction I want. Someone order room service?...I’ve been hanging around Skan too long.

        The first snake bat to emerge is an ugly mix of brown and orange. Wings extended, it launches itself at me. I sidestep and slice through the forearm of one of the wings. Grounded, it spins around and lunges. It only takes one downward stroke to end the fight.

        Something heavy slams into my back, pinning me to the ground. The other demon has come out. This one is moldy blue and bruise purple. A shrill wail fills the air as it stares at the lifeless body of the other level D. They must’ve been mates. Its barbed tongue lashes out. I shift just enough and the attack hits the demon’s own tail. It wails again, releasing me.

        Thirty seconds later, I’m wiping the blood off Quicksilver and returning the blade to its sheath. Just as I hear it click into place, a blast of hot air ruffles my hair. Adrenaline hits my system like ice water. Spinning around, I find myself face to muzzle with a demon. Solid yellow eyes. Fangs the size of daggers. Wolf bear. The same species that killed Skandar.

        “Chris!” Larissa yells over the radio. “Get out of there! A level A signal just appeared!”

        Before I can answer, it attacks. Claws rake down my side, ripping free the radio and shredding my shirt. Pain goes off in front of my eyes like fireworks and I stagger away. Forcing myself to focus, I draw Quicksilver. I can’t beat it. Only a captain or the general can kill an A on their own. All I can hope for is surviving until help comes.

15 Skandar

        “Skandar!” Kira screams.

        What the hell? Thwack! Osborne and I stand there for a moment, both of us unable to believe that he had landed a blow. That actually hurt. “Damnit!” I yell. “What, Kira?!” Her violet eyes are wide and there’s something jittery about her. I soften my tone and ask, “Kira, what happened?”

        “It’s Chris!” she says. “He was on a…on a solo job.”

        “Was?”

        There are tears in her eyes. “Is. Is on a solo job. It was two level D’s and then a level A…level A showed up.”

        “Level A?! He’s alone with a level A?!” I yell. I holster my gun and start out for the portal. “Osborne, training’s over.”

        He says something, but I’m already halfway down the hall so I don’t catch it. Kira sprints after me. “Captain Larissa is going with you.”

        Checking the number of magazines I have, I wince. Not enough. But there isn’t any time to get more. Especially when there is a level A involved, and my partner. Then again, if Larissa is going, there’s a good chance I won’t even fight. “Where is she?” I ask.

        As I step into the Gate Room, Larissa says, “Right here.” Her usual ponytail has been replaced by a bun and her green eyes are as hard as jade. Both of her tekagi-shuko are already on and the look in her eyes is murderous. If I wasn’t so worried about Chris, I’d be excited to see her in a real battle. “You ready?”

        My answer is to walk past her and into the portal.

****

        A howl raises the hair on the back of my neck as I step out of the swirling lights. Larissa’s eyes narrow at the sound. “Wolf bear,” she mutters before running towards the park a block away. Did she just say…? Why does that sound familiar? Shaking my head, I sprint after her.

        Someone yells and I run faster. That was Chris. Larissa skids to a stop and I nearly run into her. Following her gaze, I freeze. Most of the playground is either crushed or torn to pieces. Blood stains the grass in several places. Quicksilver is buried almost to the hilt in the ground. And there’s a huge frickin’ demon standing there.

        Huge fangs gleam in the cold fall light. A white barbed tail waves in the air. Solid yellow eyes. And claws…claws…The scars across my body burn. That’s…

        “Skandar!” Larissa yells, shoving me to the ground. I can feel the claws cut the air where I used to be. Something warm splashes on my cheek. Blood. So much red. Everything is red. Larissa slaps me. “Focus,” she orders. “Find Chris and get him through the portal.” Giving me a shove, she charges forward and drags her claws across the A’s side.

        Breathe, Skandar. Breathe. You aren’t dying. You need to find Chris. Slowly, I get to my feet and scan the wreckage. Nothing. It’ll take forever to find him if he’s buried. I sidestep as Larissa’s backflip sends her flying in my direction.

        That’s it!

        Slowly, I make my way into the center of the equipment. After one last glance to make sure Larissa had the demon’s attention, I close my eyes. Taking a deep breath, I focus my senses and search for movement, for sound, for life. Suddenly there’s pain tearing through my back. “Ahhhh!”    

        There’s a sharp howl as Larissa buries her tekagi-shuko in the right side of the demon’s face. It jerks its claws out of my back and swings at her. “Are you alright?” she yells as she dodges effortlessly.

        “Just keep it busy,” I reply, forcing myself to focus again. Find him. Find him. Find…there. Opening my eyes, I stagger over to the place where the movement had come from. “Chris!”

        “Skan?” he whispers.

        “Hold on, man,” I say. “I’ll get you out.”

        When I’m about halfway done, Larissa joins me. She’s drenched it blood, all of it the Wolf bear’s. “Take a break,” she tells me. “You don’t want to make your injuries worse.” A few minutes later, she has him out and I shudder. Chris’s whole right side is shredded and he’s lost a lot of blood. I support him as Larissa calls to request a portal.

        As we wait, I look back to where the A’s body is dissolving. How did it manage to show up out of nowhere?

16 Chris

          My body aches and I groan. “Chris?”

          “Heidi?” I rasp. “Where? How?”

          Smiling gently, she puts her finger to her lips. “Shh. You don’t want to wake your partner up.”

         Confused, I slowly, painfully, turn my head to see what she’s referring to. Skan’s fast asleep in a chair next to the bed. Bandages peek out over his shirt collar and his face is tight with pain and exhaustion. “Is he okay?” I whisper.

         “He’ll be fine. Your injuries are very similar, you just happened to lose more blood,” Heidi informs me as she prepares some medicine. Handing me the cup, she sits next to Skandar and moves him into a more comfortable position. I choke the medicine down. I respect Heidi’s skill as a doctor, but I will admit that I wouldn’t mind if it tasted better. “That demon could’ve killed you. We’re lucky Skandar and Larissa found you in time.”

        “I’ll have to thank them.”

        “There’s no need,” Larissa smiles as she walks in. “I’m glad to see you’re awake. How do you feel?”

         “I’m doing okay.”

         “Good.” Turning to Heidi, she asks, “How long until they’re better?”

         Heidi frowns, thinking. “One week before they can get out of bed. Another three days before they can start training again.”

         I wince inwardly. I don’t mind staying still for a while, but Skandar has a habit of going stir crazy. We have our own rooms, but Heidi likes keeping her patients in the infirmary so she can make sure they’re following her instructions. This has the potential to become very interesting…

17 Chris

        “Freedom!” Skandar says. “Finally.” Shoving away the blankets, he gets up and starts changing.

        I grin; I can’t disagree with him. Being confined to bed had nearly driven Skan insane and he’d almost taken me with him. Across the room, Skandar is stretching, his eyes alive with energy. It’s good to be free. As I grab a fresh shirt, I study my wounds. They’re scabbed over and Heidi had told me that those would fade in the next few days.

        Something hits me in the back of the head and I turn to see Skandar smirking. There’s a pillow missing from his bed. “Really?” I ask. “How old are we?” Another pillow flies at my face and I catch it. Skandar’s expression is mocking. I sigh and look at the ceiling before hurling the pillow back at him.

        “You call that a throw?” Skandar taunts. “I was expecting better from my partner.”

        “What about yours?” I reply. “Normally, I shouldn’t have such an easy time catching one of your attacks.” Clicking my tongue, I shake my head. “You’ve lost your edge.”

        And then the infirmary was a war zone. When the pillows prove to be useless as ammo, we start wrestling. I can’t remember the last time we’d just hung out and been stupid. Sensing an opening, Skandar pounces and jabs me in the side. When did he learn I’m ticklish there?!

        “Stop!” I gasp, desperately trying to roll away and getting nowhere. “Please, man. Cut it out. That’s not fair.”

        “All’s fair in war,” Skan quotes, not letting up.

        Two minutes later, Heidi walks in and lifts her eyebrows as she studies the two of us on the floor, both of us breathless from laughing. I guess I was more stir crazy than I’d thought. There’s a gleam of amusement in her golden brown eyes as she asks, “Do I want to know?”

        “Cabin…fever,” I gasp.

        “Insanity,” Skandar adds.

        “You didn’t reopen any wounds, did you?” Her voice is dangerously soft. Both of us scramble to check. When we shake our heads, she smiles. “Good. Now don’t forget that you can’t train for the next three days.” Skandar groans but doesn’t complain. He’s lucky she’s letting him out of the infirmary at all considering his track record. Gesturing to the mess of pillows, Heidi says, “And don’t forget to clean up before you leave.” As Skan starts picking up his pillows, Heidi gives me a look that says “don’t let him misbehave.”

        “I’ll do my best” I mouth.

        Just as we’re about to leave, two agents carrying a stretcher burst in. A young female agent lay deathly still on the stretcher. Half her face is gone, burned by fire or acid, I can’t tell. From the waist down she’s a mess of blisters and melted flesh. Bile burns the back of my throat as I stare in horror. I want to look away but I can’t.

        Another stretcher is rushed past us, Captain Naima. This one has an older woman on it. The entire right side of her body is burned to the bone. She’s too broken. She’s already fading. There’s nothing Heidi can do for her. Tears slide down Naima’s tan cheeks as she holds the woman’s hand. I can see her mouth moving as she asks the Sovereign to ease her agent’s pain.

        I sway and Skandar grabs my arm. Dragging me out of the infirmary, he says, “We should leave.”

        I just nod. Please, Sovereign, hold that agent in Your hands.

18 Skandar

        I’m restless and training isn’t helping. It’s been five days since Naima lost two of her agents and six more have died since, four from Jushiro’s squad and two from Alex’s. Frustrated, I fire a shot at the target. Another miss.

        With a sigh, I put my gun down. There’s no point in continuing; I can’t focus. The screams of the last agent to die still haunt me. Chris has it worse. He knew three of them. Collapsing on the bleachers overlooking the ring, I stare up at the ceiling. The enemies have to be behind this. They said something about cutting down our numbers and we’ve lost eight agents in six days. This can’t be a coincidence. It can’t be.

        Below I can hear the door click open and slam close. Curious, I sit up. “Oh. It’s just you.”

       “How dare you speak to me like that?” Malik yells, looking up at me.

        “So what are you doing in here?” I ask, ignoring his question. “Did you get lost on the way to your office?”

        Beady eyes flashing, Malik draws himself up. “I am on my way to the System room to receive the latest assignments for my agents.”

        Something is seriously wrong. We can’t just keep sending people out. We’re playing right into the enemies hands if we keep going out on missions like this. “I wouldn’t if I were you.”

        “I do not recall asking your opinion,” Malik replies, turning to leave.

        Rolling my eyes, I jump off the bleachers and land in front of him. He stumbles back in alarm, hands fumbling for his knife. A captain who can’t unsheathe his weapon and is scared by a younger agent. It’s disgusting. Barely keeping the hate out of my voice, I snarl, “Does it look like I care? Send your agents out, and there’s a good chance that they’ll pass on.”

        Furious, Malik shoves past me. “You have no proof of such a claim.” Brushing himself off, he adds, “I shall report this behavior to the General. Do not think that your skill excuses your behavior.”

        As he leaves, I punch the dummy closest to me. He’s right. I don’t have proof. Drawing my gun, I fire the rest of the clip into the target.

19 ?

          Folding my wings, I dive through the clouds. As I break free of the fog, I pull up and glide beside the cliff face. A few more beats, and I’ll arrive to the place I’ve been forced to hide in for the past few thousand years. I had made rash decisions that had put me here, but not this time. No, this time the Sovereign and His agency will fall. The barrier shall fail and death shall be no more. And nothing will stand in my way.

        The ledge that serves as my front entrance comes into view and I angle towards it. Once I’ve landed, I revert to my true form and sigh with pleasure. Much better. Unlocking the door, I slip inside and make my way for the command center. Pale, unnaturally blue light emanates through the half open door. Fordon must be working.

        He acknowledges my presence with a tilt of his head, eyes never leaving the numbers scrolling down the screen. There are times when I believe he is part machine. “How’d it go?” he asks.

        “I thought we had agreed that you would not ask that question,” I remark as I pour a cup of coffee. After the exhausting and revolting day of monitoring the Realm of the Dead Association, I require at least a little bit of comfort. I take a taste and sigh. It’s cold.

        “Right,” he laughs. “Because you hate it.” For a brief second he breaks eye contact with the computer and glances at me. “I could’ve done it.”

        Shaking my head, I summon an orb of hellfire in my palm. Cold coffee is simply unacceptable. “I have my doubts about that.”

        “Hey!”

        “You have a job here,” I remind him. “One that you are better suited for than I.” At last the coffee is the right temperature. I take a sip and smile thinly. The simple pleasures. “Speaking of which, is it going well?”

        “Yeah.” He gestures to the screen. “I’m keeping my interference to a minimum right now. That way they can’t trace me.” There’s a smirk in Fordon’s voice. We’re both aware of the shortcomings of the agency’s technology when compared to Fordon’s skill. “Besides, the System’s basically doing what I want and I can just summon a demon to the location.”

        I take another sip of coffee. “That would explain why they haven’t been overly concerned about the System.”

        “Bingo,” Fordon grins. “I’m waiting to use it to our advantage. If they think it’s still functioning correctly, they won’t question the assignments.”

        “Are there any agents currently on a mission?”

        After a few quick key strokes, he nods. “Yeah. A team was just sent out to take care of a level C.”

        Peering over his shoulder, I consider the information on the screen. “Summon a ghost this time. I’m curious to see how they handle an opponent who can operate on their level.” There’s a gleam in Fordon’s eyes. “You have an idea?”

        “I have the perfect ghost.”

        “I shall leave you to it, then.” As I leave the room, I can hear Fordon riffling through the closet for the ritual supplies. I take another drink of coffee. Everything is falling into place. “Soon,” I whisper softly. “Mox dominator finiretur regnum tuum ultra consurget.”

A/N: Hey. So it’s another one chapter post. Sorry. I’ve just been struggling to feel motivated lately. With any luck I’ll be able to get out of this rut soon. Anyway, I hope you enjoy. Let me know what you think.

20 Chris

         We’re all on alert as we step free of the portal and into downtown Chicago. Skandar already has a hand on his gun and Greg’s sword is half drawn.

         A week ago, General Eli called a gathering of all the squads. It was the first one I’ve ever been to and I hope that I never have to attend another one after the news we received. There’s an unidentified enemy that is targeting the RotDA and its agents. All we know for sure is that they’ve found a way to monitor the association’s movements. Based on the recent string of attacks, they can also summon ghosts and demons.

         As a result, there are new procedures for missions. Every team must consist of at least two high ranking agents and as soon as the mission is complete we are to return to the RotDA. While on the field we need to watch for anything that could help us learn more about who, or what, we’re facing.

         Up front, Laurel signals that she’s found the level B we were sent to kill. Greg radios it in before he and Laurel move to begin their mission. I can feel Skan shift next to me, watching for any sign of an enemy attack. But nothing comes. The fight ends after about five minutes and Laurel and Greg join us.

         “See anything helpful?” I ask as Greg sheaths his sword.

         Carefully cleaning her scythe, Laurel shakes her head. “Unfortunately not. There was nothing that could identify an enemy.”

         “Shit,” Skandar mutters.

        At first, I think he’s just referring to Laurel’s answer. Then he shoves me to the side and fires three shots in the direction of the roof across from us. Laurel screams and falls to the ground as Greg scrambles backward. Before I can say anything, Skandar’s up and running across the street. I turn to check on Laurel, but Greg waves me away. “Help your partner!”

        “Are you…?”

        “I can take care of her. Help Skan!”

        After hesitating a few more seconds, I run after my partner. I can’t see him, but I know where he’s headed, the roof. I head for the back of the building. If the enemy is smart, that’s where they’ll run when they see Skan. Just as I turn the corner, the door bangs open and an Arabic man rushes out, a sniper rifle slung across his back. His skin is paler than a living person and his eyes are sunken. Ghost. Seconds later, Skandar sprints after him. Skan’s gaze lands on me for a moment and I nod.     

         Drawing Quicksilver, I move to intercept the ghost. Suddenly there’s a knife in his hand and I whirl to the side as he lunges for me. But he’s ready for that. I barely manage to block his strike.

         “Chris!”

         I know that tone, “get the enemy to stand still.” Taking a deep breath, I attack. The man’s skill is on par with my own. It takes me another two minutes to lock his blade with Quicksilver. He won’t stay still for long, but it’ll be enough. There’s a sharp bang and the ghost’s left leg goes out from under him. A shudder runs through me as I try not to look at the wound while keeping Quicksilver pressed against the man’s chest.

          Skandar joins me and strips the man of his weapons. Using the knife, he cuts the strap of the gun and binds the man’s hands behind his back. “Let’s get the others and go,” Skandar says as he drags the ghost to his feet. “Maybe the higher ups can get some information out of this bastard.”

21 Skandar

        “Skandar?”

        I blink and look up. Osborne is standing in front of me, looking concerned, wood axe dangling from his fingers.  “What, Os?”

        “Osborne,” he says automatically. “It’s been five minutes. Did you want to keep going?”

        Slowly, I get to my feet and stretch. “Sure.” As I start towards the ring, I feel him hesitate. “What’s wrong?”

        Shifting uncomfortably, he focuses on the floor. “I’m sorry for annoying you all the time.”

        I frown. “Huh?”

        “I’m sorry for annoying you all the time,” he repeats, grey eyes still avoiding me. “I don’t mean to, but I always manage to do something stupid.”

        Guilt hits me like one of General Eli’s punches. Unsure how to respond, I just stand there. So does he. It’s not that I hate him or anything. He’s just a little irritating and a lot like… “Look,” I manage. “You don’t need to apologize. I…I need to.” He looks at me in surprise and I hold back a grimace. I’m not good at this kind of thing. “I shouldn’t be so tough on you. It’s just that you remind me of someone I knew when I was alive. He was a lot like you. He wanted to help me get out of some of the shit I’d gotten myself into. But instead he died.”

        Osborne just stares at me. Something dark appears in his eyes, almost like sadistic pleasure, and suddenly I see the man who killed my brother. I shake my head violently. My memories are messing with me. “People like you shouldn’t be involved with violence and death,” I say. As he opens his mouth, I sigh. “But, I know that there’s no stopping you either. Which means…” I pause until he meets my gaze. “You need to train like crazy. Got it?”

        “Yeah!” he yells, raising his axe over his head and waving it.

        I do a mental facepalm, but smile. “Then let’s get started.”

        Tying the blindfold over my eyes, I move into a fighting stance. Already I can feel that Os is more focused. His posture is still a mess, but I can almost feel his determination. We spar for several minutes. There’s some improvement. He’s listening to my instructions, even trying some things on his own. But I feel a little off center. My memories won’t leave.

        All at once, I misstep and struggle to regain my balance. Osborne lunges and...what was that? His attack misses and I move away. Something isn’t right. What I’d felt…Focusing my senses further, I keep sparring. “Try an attack that starts low and then cuts upward,” I say.               

        “Okay,” he pants. It feels fake. Too forced. Too breathless.

        He moves to start the attack and I feel it again. A hesitation. A wrong adjustment at the most critical part. Too much tension in the body. All of it intentional. “Stop.”

        “Why?” he asks.

        “I want you to practice a few times on the dummy so you can get the feel for it,” I reply, gesturing to the nearest mannequin. He shrugs and starts attacking the dummy. Each attack feels the same. There’s control. He isn’t as pathetic as he acts. But why…?

        The memory of the voices comes back. They’d vanished because Osborne had showed up. My body goes cold. He’s involved. All those times he’d taken forever to answer his door. He hadn’t been sleeping; he’d been up to something. Maybe not even in the room. Is he how they’ve been monitoring us? No one would notice a recruit as long as he kept his head down. And, whenever Osborne did draw attention to himself, it was almost too obvious.

        Now I just have to find a way to convince everyone else that Osborne’s a threat. Shit.

A/N: Hey! I decided to post three chapters this time to make up for some of the ones I missed earlier. Thank you so much to those who have stuck with my story this far. J

If any of you have time, I’d really appreciate some feedback. I want to become a better writer so I’d like to know what I do well and what I need to improve on.

Anne

22 ?

        “Did Abd-al-Qadir give them the information as we instructed?” I inquire as I towel off my hair. Showering after a workout always feels wonderful.

        Fordon glowers at me while wiping a water drop from the screen. “Yeah. And he waited so that it looked like they had forced it out of him.” There’s a cruel smile on his face as he adds, “For an agency under the Sovereign, they can be vicious.”

        “Surprising isn’t it?” I agree.

        “So now what?”

        Hanging the towel up on the wall, I pour a mug of coffee. I offer the pot to Fordon, but he waves a hand at it. “Now we make use of the System. They will respond to this threat by covering the most high-risk locations. It’ll be a simple task to make a low-risk area look like a priority.”

        “And then we send certain teams to certain areas,” Fordon laughs. “This is gonna be fun.”

        “Yes, it should be quite enjoyable.”

        Kicking the corner of the desk, Fordon sends his chair spinning around the room. I lift the coffee maker out of his trajectory. When he comes to a stop, he turns to me. “Any requests for the first victims?”

        I pause for a moment, considering the many options. There was a great deal of sense in removing the captains as quickly as possible, but there was a more pressing threat. “Skandar Lynch and Christopher Sanders.”

        Fordon considers me for a moment before asking, “Any particular reason? I mean yeah they’re strong agents but wouldn’t it be better to take out a captain or a more experienced agent?”

        “Under normal circumstances, yes. However, a problem that requires immediate attention has risen,” I inform him. “Skandar Lynch’s instincts are most impressive, dangerously so. I believe there is a high probability that he has discovered important pieces of the puzzle. He may not have them in the correct positions, but he does have them. From there, it is only a matter of time before he realizes the full truth.”

        “So take him out before he has a chance to say anything.”

        “Precisely. And I know just the location for his next mission.”

23 Chris

        I’m at my desk trying to finish some overdue paperwork. Not because Larissa has time to worry about it or cares, but because I need focus on something other than the growing number of injuries and deaths. Skandar paces past me and the breeze lifts the corner of the page. Something’s been eating him for the past few hours. He’d even eaten one of my peppers. He can’t stand them.

        As he passes again, I catch his hand. “Are you okay?” He sighs. There’s that look again; he’s trying to put something together. “Skan?”

        “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you,” he says.

        “You don’t trust me?”

        Rolling his eyes, he pulls away. “Don’t try that trick. You know I trust you.”

        “Okay,” I tell him. “But are you going to be alright?”

        “Probably.”

        That is not a reassuring answer. “Wait, what?”

        As expected, he ignores me and heads for the door. Before I can go after him, Larissa appears in front of me. Her face is drawn and tired. It’s the first time she’s looked older than fourteen. “We have a mission for you.”

        “Already?” That was fast.

        Nodding, Larissa gestures towards Skandar. “Get him and come to my office. I’ll fill you in there.”

****

        Larissa studies us from behind her desk. Did they learn something from the prisoner? What’s the mission? Next to me, Skandar is chewing on his lip, still distracted by whatever it is. When Larissa doesn’t say anything, I ask, “What’s the mission?”

        “The ghost’s name is Abd-al-Qadir,” she says softly.

        This catches Skandar’s attention. “The terrorist that took out almost an entire town?” he asks.

        “That’s right.” Slowly, Larissa stands up. “Ghosts can only return to the Realm of the Living through the place they died. Abd-al-Qadir died halfway across the world from Chicago. So…”

        “How and why was he there?” Skandar finishes.

        Avocado eyes dark, Larissa says, “The enemy summoned him and then opened a portal for him. They knew exactly where the mission was and when.”

        I let out a long breath. “They have portals?” That means that we’re wide open to attacks if we leave the RotDA.

        “That’s the information we got,” Larissa sighs. “According to Abd-al-Qadir, the enemy is planning on creating an army of ghosts. Alex ran a search for areas that have strong and dangerous ghosts as soon as we learned that.”

        “Our mission is at one of those areas, isn’t it?” I ask.

        “Yes. You are to stand guard over one of those areas. The System chose the ones you’d be most compatible with. Eli wants you in position in an hour. Pack up. This will be a long mission.”

24 Skandar

        I stare up at massive buildings. A college. Fairshore University. I try not to grimace. Never thought I’d be going back to school.

        The portal’s dropped us at the front gate a few feet away from the dorms. Shrugging my bag higher up my shoulder, I jog after Larissa. “Larissa!”

        “What is it, Skan?” Her voice is tight with stress.

        “I need to tell you something.”

        “Not now,” she says. Already she’s scanning windows to find an empty room we can use as a base.

        “Larissa.” This is seriously pushing my luck.

        “Look, we don’t have time for this,” she says. “I need to get you two set up and then return to headquarters to figure how the enemy is monitoring us.” I pick up the pace and step in front of her. She stops short and looks at me sharply. “Are you serious?”

        “Yeah.”

        With a sigh, she sets her bag down and gives me her “this better be good” face. I hesitate. There’s no way she’s going to believe me, but I have to tell her about Osborne. As I open my mouth, my gaze falls on Chris. He hasn’t moved from the drop-off point. “Chris, come on!” I call. The only response I get is a faint shake of his head.

        Confused, I go back and, as I draw closer, I can see the sheer terror in his eyes. It’s disturbing. I’ve seen him face the ghosts of terrorists, serial killers, and level A demons, but he’s never looked like this. He’s so pale that he looks like a ghost. His breaths are too short, too shallow.

        “Larissa!” I yell over my shoulder. “You might want to come here.”

        Her patience is already gone and I can tell she’s annoyed with the delay, but there’s something seriously wrong here. “What?” she asks as she joins me.

        “Something’s up with Chris,” I reply.

        Rolling her eyes, Larissa steps in front of Chris and snaps her fingers in his face. His gaze shifts to her for a second. “Chris,” she snaps. “Let’s go.”

        “Hey, Larissa?” His voice is barely audible.

        “What?”

        “Did the System choose me and Skandar for this mission?”

        Larissa and I exchange looks, hers demanding to know what’s going on and mine saying “I’m as lost as you.” Finally, she says, “Yes. Why?”

        Ignoring her question, Chris asks, “The System doesn’t send someone to places they’d been to when they were alive right?” As he speaks I feel a growing unease. Something’s wrong. Something is seriously wrong.

        Clearly exasperated, Larissa is practically yelling her answer. “Right! It won’t send them there until at least forty-five years have passed since their death!”

        I go cold as Chris faces us. There’s something fragile in his eyes as he whispers, “I’ve only been dead for thirteen. So why…why did it send me to the place where I died?!”

        Larissa mouths, “Oh, my…” I don’t know how to respond. This can’t be happening. The System has been around for years and the assignment program has been updated so many times that a mistake like this isn’t…no, wasn’t possible. It was designed this way because the trauma an agent would experience at the sight of the place they died could break them enough to make them pass on. I couldn’t imagine what it would be like to go back to where I was killed. Until now.

        Chris is on his knees, trembling. Not sure what I’m supposed to do, I turn to Larissa. She’s on the radio and, judging from her expression, she’s trying to figure out what went wrong and get us back. Catching me watching her, Larissa gestures for me to take care of Chris. This annoys me a little. If I knew how to help him, I wouldn’t be looking to her for instructions.

        The best thing I can think of is to distract him, to remind him that he isn’t alone. “Chris,” I say, kneeling in front of him. I need to say something more, but nothing’s coming. “Chris?’

        Hollow blue eyes turn to me. “Skan, I…” His voice cuts off in a strangled gasp. I can almost feel something break inside of him. His eyes aren’t just hollow, they’re drained, faint, so distant it’s like he’s died again.

        “Chris?!” Nothing. “Damnit! Larissa! Portal. Now!”

        “It won’t open.” There’s panic in her voice.

        “What?”

        “It won’t open.”

25 Chris

        “I’m loving this class!” Rebecca says. Her forest green eyes are more alive than usual. It’s good to see her like this; she’s been so tired lately. “Philosophy might just be my thing.”

        Across the table, Tommy shakes his head. “So long as you don’t bring it to the cafeteria, we’re good.”

        Sticking her tongue out, Rebecca smirks. “I can’t help it that I’m smarter than you.”

        “Then where do I rank?” I ask. “I’m in a higher Math and English than you.”

        As Rebecca pouts, Tommy laughs. “Good one, Chris! She’s speechless.”

        I take a bite of pizza. It’s a Monday afternoon and I just finished my only class for the day. Not a bad way to start the week. The cafeteria is loud, music booming from the speakers, dishes clattering, students laughing and shouting. This is probably my favorite place on campus.

        Someone screams. A boyfriend probably just snuck up on his girlfriend. But there’s another scream comes and this time there’s a hysterical ring to it. Rebecca glances up and Tommy frowns, a piece of lettuce hanging from his mouth. “What…?” I start.

        The answer enters the room, a guy wearing a skull T-shirt and ripped camouflage jeans. There’s a gun in his hand. I’m no expert on guns, but it looks like some kind of rifle. Something about his expression sends chills down my spine. Everyone is frozen, staring, not sure how to take this in. Next to me, Rebecca is half out of her seat. She’s like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car.

        Hand relaxed on the gun, the guy scans the room. His gaze lands on the table of cheerleaders. One of them starts to stand, her mouth beginning to move, to ask a question. I’ll never know what the question was going to be.

         Red the same color as her lipstick spreads across the clean white front of her uniform. Then she’s on the floor. The spell is broken. We’re all moving.

        Where do I go? What do I do?

        Tommy runs for the door. The gun is pointing in his direction. I shout a warning…too late.

        Rebecca?! Where’s Rebecca?!

        There! She’s completely frozen. I grab her and pull her down under the table. She doesn’t resist; she’s in shock.

        Screams. Gunshot after gunshot. Blood. Somewhere on campus there’s a huge boom that I can feel more than hear. What’s going on?

        Light is suddenly shining on me. He’s knocked over the table. I throw myself across Rebecca. There’s nothing else I can do. But she can’t die. I can’t lose another friend.

        His finger tightens on the trigger. Then pain. My body goes limp. Rebecca’s screaming, holding me. The barrel of the gun is pressed against my head.

        Nothing.

26 Skandar

        Chris is resting on the lower bunk. Without a portal, we have no way back to the RotDA. We’ve been ordered to find somewhere safe to treat Chris and wait for them to figure out how to get us home.

        Restless, I pace around the small dorm room. It’s too cramped. I hate it. There’s not enough space to fight if something happens. And something will. The enemy sent us here for a reason. With me around, there’s no guarantee that Chris’ll die and they won’t take a risk like that. Especially since they want us dead.

        But what will they try? A demon? Ghost? Damnit!

        Larissa catches my fist before it reaches the wall and expertly twists it up and behind my back. “Calm down, Skan. Breathe.” When she’s sure I’m under control, she lets go. How’s she so calm?

        Forcing myself to relax, I sit down next my unconscious partner. Chris is getting paler and tears slid down his face. It hurts seeing him like this. Whoever’s doing this is going to die. “I’m gonna get you out of this,” I tell him. “Just hold on a little longer.” A dark splotch on his shirt catches my attention. That wasn’t there earlier. Leaning closer, I catch my breath. Blood. “Larissa.”

        She appears next to me. “What’s wrong?”

        I gesture to the blood. “Why…?”

        “First aid kit,” she says, kneeling next to the bed.

        As I hand it to her, I ask, “What can I do?”

        “Help me get his shirt off.” While I support him, she slips Chris’s shirt up and over his head before wiping the blood away. It’s coming from the scar on his right shoulder. Once the bleeding’s under control, she carefully puts a bandage over it. “I hope that’s enough.”

       Chris’s head falls onto my shoulder and I feel something warm and wet soak through my shirt. Gently, I touch his forehead and my hand comes away red. “Larissa, his head’s bleeding too.” As she binds the wound, I ask, “What’s going on?”

        “Vafara sent me some information about Chris’s death,” she replies, not looking away from what she’s doing. “He was shot in the shoulder and then in the forehead.” Her expression’s hard to read when she looks at me. “My best guess is that being here is doing more than just calling up bad memories. It’s reopening his wounds.”

        “Like he’s dying all over again,” I mutter.

        Nodding, she begins to repack the first aid kit. Something clatters in the hallway and we both freeze. Slowly, carefully, I lay Chris back down on the bed and grab my gun. When Larissa looks at me, I gesture for her to stay. If one of us is staying with Chris, it’s her. She has a better chance of protecting him if something goes wrong. Once she’s nodded, I draw my gun and rest my finger on the safety. I pause for a second, then step into the hall.

27 Skandar

            My breath fogs as I close the door behind me. Damn, it’s cold. It’s normal for ghosts to drop the temperature, but I’ve never seen one capable of this. That’s not good. Clicking the safety off, I start down the hall, gun raised.

            Nothing on the first floor. Slowly, I make my way up the spiral-like stairs to the second. Something beeps and then there’s a sharp crack and a bullet grazes my cheek. Instantly, I lunge backward, adrenaline flooding my blood. A trap. I’d stepped through a trigger that set off the gun.

            “Damn,” a rough male voice sighs. “Can’t believe that didn’t work.”

            “Who are you?” I call, focusing on how the sound bounces in the stairwell. I need to find him.

            “I was the one who attacked the school thirteen years ago.”

            Behind me? I spin around, aiming a kick at his head. There’s a crunch as my foot smashes into his face. Probably his nose. He drops and I waste no time unloading a clip into his chest. He isn’t vanishing. What the hell?! Why didn’t that work?!

            Laughing, he gets to his feet. Blood streams from his nose, but otherwise he’s fine. “I’m a ghost,” he says. “You got lucky with your kick. But I was ready for the bullets.”

            He’s been here long enough to learn intangibility?! Turning, I race up the stairs, watching for more traps. Fear threatens to take control, but I force it back. No is not the time. I reach the landing and, as I step onto it, I feel the floor give a little. Shit!

            The explosion sends me crashing down the stairs. A railing corner to the back stops me. Shaking my head to clear the fog, I struggle to get up, but a foot on my chest stops me.  

             “I’m gonna enjoy this,” he grins as he presses a rifle to my forehead.

            Crack!

28 Chris

       I slowly come to. I’m on the bottom mattress of a bunk bed. The room’s dark. Pain radiates from my head and chest. Groaning, I push myself into a sitting position. As my eyes adjust to the dark, I can see two desks pushed up against the wall. There’s a closet in the corner. I know this set up; it’s the same as the dorm I stayed in before I died.

       I bite back a scream as my head throbs with memories. Instantly there’s a gentle hand on my shoulder. Startled, I look over, wincing at the new wave of pain. “Larissa?”

       She nods before handing me a water bottle. Her hair is coming free of its bun and her eyes a wary. “How are you feeling?”

       “Not great,” I reply before sipping at the water. “What happened?”

       “You passed out after remembering your death,” Larissa says softly, watching me closely, as if worried for my sanity. I can’t blame her for that though, I’m not sure how stable I am.

        Somewhere in the dorm, there’s a huge boom that I feel more than hear. Oh no. Turning to Larissa, I ask, “Where’s Skan?!”

        “He went to investigate…”Larissa starts before realization dawns.

        “I need to find him,” I gasp, forcing myself to stand. “He needs help.”

        For a second, Larissa stares at me. Then she gets up and puts a hand on my chest. “You aren’t going anywhere, Chris. You’re in bad shape and Skan’s more than capable of taking care of himself.”

        “Not here,” I reply, pushing past her. “If I’m right about who he’s fighting, then he’s at a disadvantage.” Pain nearly sends me sprawling as I picture the face of my killer. Blood soaks through the bandages and trickles down my face.

        “Then I’ll go,” Larissa says. It’s obvious that she’s desperate and soon she’ll pull rank, but I can’t just abandon my partner. Not in this hell. “As your captain…”

        Grabbing Quicksilver, I glance at her. “Sorry, Larissa. But not this time. I know this school. I know where traps can be set. And I know a little about how he thinks.” As I open the door, I hear the sound of leather slipping across steel-Larissa’s tekagi-shuko. I don’t even need to turn around to know she’s coming with me. “Let’s go.”

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry about the one chapter posts lately. I’ve been struggling with inspiration. Hopefully I’ll be able to hit my stride again soon. Anyway, thanks for sticking with it for so long. It really means a lot.

Anne.

29 Skandar

            “Come on, Skan.” The blinds are opened and I pull the covers over my head. “Skandar,” my brother says. “You can’t sleep all day.”

            “Why the hell not?”

            Matt grabs the covers and jerks them off of me. If he wasn’t my little brother, he’d be dead. Brown eyes unimpressed, he stares at me. “It’s a nice day out.”

            I’m not so sure about that. Life is hell, so why would this day be any better? I can’t even hang out with the gang, not after what I saw last night. It’s one thing to shoplift, drink, speed, vandalize, but…the crack of the gun rings in my ears.

            Frowning, Matt studies me. “Skan? Are you okay, bro?”

            “Fine,” I tell him as I sit up. “You have plans today?”

            “Yeah, I have a paper I need to work on.”

            “When’s it due?”

            “Three weeks.”

            Tapping him lightly on the head, I grin. “Good luck with that.” He stays quiet as I search for a clean pair of pants. I don’t need him to say anything, I know what he’s thinking. “I’m not going to school. It’s a waste of time.” A flash of pain in his eyes. I wince. Bad word choice. He struggles with school while I’m capable of bull shitting my way through but don’t bother. It’s killing Mom and Matt’s trying so hard to make her proud. But I can’t. I won’t. She never wanted me anyway, so why bother impressing her.

            “Stay out of trouble,” is all he says as I head out the door.

****

            Damnit! Damnit! Damnit!

            My breath is ragged as I sprint for the hangout. Why couldn’t I have been home instead of drinking? Then I would’ve gotten that letter instead of Matt.

            ‘We know what you saw. Meet us at the hangout at 7 p.m.’

            Damnit! Damnit! Damnit! Let me get there in time, I pray for the first time in years.

            One more block. Two more houses. One more step.

            Bang!

            I stand still in the open doorway. Too late. “Matt,” I breathe. Slowly, I make my way over to his still form. Please just be unconscious. I know it’s false hope.

            Gunnar hands the gun over to Peter. “I’ll admit we’d hoped to get you, not your lame-ass brother. But I kinda like this better. Gets the message across and stills hurts just as much, if not more.” Grabbing my hair, he pulls so that I’m forced to look at him. “Say anything about last night to anyone, and your mom’s next.”

            As they leave, I carefully pick up Matt’s limp body. I’m the cause of this. Something inside breaks.

            Never again. I’m done making mistakes. “I’m sorry, Matt,” I whisper as I finally allow the tears to fall.  

30 Chris

        Larissa kneels down and studies what’s left of the second floor landing. There isn’t much. The boom we heard had been a bomb. Just like when the school had been attacked. Now the school is a ghost campus. No one’s here.

        Wasn’t killing twenty of us enough for him? Was he so sick that he had to haunt this place too? My vision goes white and then red. I feel blood ooze down my chest. Biting back a scream of pain, I fall back onto Larissa who catches me.

        “I’ll take it from here,” she says as she eases me into a sitting position.

        “No,” I protest. “This ghost uses guns and bombs. Your weapon isn’t the best for that.”

        “Neither is yours,” she replies with a pointed look at Quicksilver.

        “But together we have a better chance,” I continue, ignoring my captain. Not the wisest move, but she’s not going without me.

        I force myself to stand only to sway and be caught by Larissa again. “Chris…”

        “I have to, Larissa. Skan’s my partner.” I meet her avocado eyes, desperate. “Please. You saw the blood. He’s hurt, badly. I can’t leave him.”

        For a moment, she holds my gaze. Setting my jaw, I don’t back down, ignoring every pulse of white that hides her face. She’ll leave me if I can’t hold it together. But Skandar always comes after me, even if it’s a level A. It’s my turn to return the favor.

        Finally, Larissa shakes her head, a small, stunned smile on her lips. “You two are crazy, you know that. Fine. Let’s go hunt a ghost.”

31 ?

        “They showed up just like you said.”

        I dislike working with ghosts. The vast majority of the unimpressive creatures are incapable of creating any sort of plan. While this one has the capacity of thinking on his own, he cannot look beyond mere slaughter to the larger, more important goal. For the time being, however, that’s all I require of him, killing Skandar and his partner.

        “You doubted me?” I inquire.

        “Hell no.”

        Fordon openly smirks as I wince at the coarse language. I’ll need to discipline that boy again. “Have you made any progress?” Static obscures his answer. Directing a raised eyebrow towards Fordon, I say, “Could you repeat that?”

        At first the static muffles his rely, but once Fordon taps in a new command, it clears and I hear, “One with black hair. The red haired bitch is probably still with the sick one.”

        “Excellent. Well done.”

        “Any new orders?” The young man’s voice is tight. He hates reporting to me. It was his choice to serve me, so I see no reason for him to act in such an immature manner. In front of the monitor, Fordon laughs, guessing my thoughts. Perhaps calling it a choice is too generous, considering it was burn in the deepest depths of Hell or assist me in hunting the RotDA agents.

        “Kill them. That’s all I require of you.”

        “That...” The icy smile in his voice is as dark as death. “I can do.”

        “See to it then.”

        As I replace the phone to its cradle, I feel Fordon watching me. There’s a soft tap, tap, tap as he rolls back and forth in the desk chair. It’s a restless sound. “When do I get to go out?” he asks.

        “Your bloodlust is showing,” I comment as I make my way over to the coffee pot. His normally black eyes are spirit fire green, pupils’ slits.

        Lips curling to display fangs, he laughs. “You surprised? I haven’t hunted for months.”

        Pouring myself a cup of decaf, I smile softly. I’ve raised him well. “Be patient. It’s almost time.”

32 Chris

        There’s no sign of Skandar or the ghost anywhere in the dorm. I breathe a word Skandar taught me and Larissa glances at me in surprise. Ignoring her, I slouch against the wall. I can barely see through the veil of red dripping over my eyes. It’s taking all my effort to stay awake.

        Slowly, Larissa lowers herself to the floor next to me. “Any ideas?”

        “Not yet,” I sigh, remembering just in time not to shake my head.

        Pursing her lips, Larissa nods. She watches me for a minute before pulling off the tekagi-shuko and taking out the first aid kit. As I open my mouth to protest, her avocado eyes silence me. I’ve already disobeyed her more than is safe.

        Where could they be? I don’t think Skan’s dead yet. That doesn’t fit what I know about the ghost. Another Skan taught word slips through my teeth as Larissa removes the bandages from around my chest. “Sorry,” she says, starting to wrap the new cloth around the wound.

        “It’s…okay.”

        The cafeteria is loud, music booming from the speakers, dishes clattering, students laughing and shouting. This is probably my favorite place on campus.

        Someone screams. A boyfriend probably just snuck up on his girlfriend. But there’s another scream and this time there’s a hysterical ring to it. Rebecca glances up and Tommy frowns, a piece of lettuce hanging from his mouth. “What…?” I start.

        The answer enters the room……

        “Chris!”

        The world twists and I find myself face to face with Larissa. No way…they can’t be…but it makes sense. I force myself to my feet, nearly doubling over in pain.

        “Chris!” Larissa demands. “What just happened?”

        “I think I know where they are,” I tell her.

        “Where?”

        I take a deep breath. “The cafeteria. The place where I died.”

A/N: Hey, I know I’ve said this before, but I feel bad so sorry for all the skipped chapters. This writer’s block is worse than I thought, but it seems to be getting better. Cross your fingers that this sudden surge of inspiration doesn’t vanish.

If you have any time, I’d love to hear what you guys think of the story so far.

33 Skandar 

        Ow…What happened? An explosion. A gun. Where is he?! My eyes flicker open and I stare at my surroundings. Tables and chairs are scattered throughout the room. An empty salad bar sits in the center. A cafeteria?

        My arms are bound above my head, the rope thrown over an exposed pipe. I can barely touch the floor. Something trickles into my mouth. Blood? No the taste’s wrong. Tears? But…Matt. I haven’t dreamt about that for years. My breath catches in my throat as I picture my brother’s limp body drenched in blood. Staring at the floor, I try desperately to rein in my emotions.

        “Morning, princess,” a voice laughs.

        With a start, I look up and find myself face to face with the bastard who’d shot me. I spit in his face. “What the hell do you want?” There’s a flash of rage in his eyes. I know the expression. It’s one that I used to see in the mirror every day.

        He shrugs. “I wanna kill you. But it’d be more fun to kill your friends in front of you and then kill you.”

        Not a repeat of Matt. Please not again. Careful not to draw his attention, I start fighting the bonds.

        “It’s been so boring since they closed to school,” he continues. “There’s no one to kill. No one to torture. All of the other ghosts have vanished too. Damn!” A gunshot echoes, expressing frustration. “But then Mukesh told me that he’d send me some toys. All I have to do is kill you and he’ll free me from this place. Then the whole world will be my playground!”

34 Skandar 

        Mukesh? Who the hell is that? The rope burns sting as sweat drips into them and I narrow my eyes. Doesn’t matter who the bastard is, if I ever get my hands on him, he’s dead. “You’re one screwed up asshole, you know that?” I snarl at the ghost.

        “Ha! Aren’t I though?” His eyes gleam with amusement. Drawing closer, he smiles darkly. “You were like me once.”

        “Like hell I was.” This earns another laugh and I feel rage burn behind my ribs. Focus on the rope, Skan. Get free and kick his sorry ass.

        As he runs a loving hand over the rifle next to him, he studies me. “Really? You’re as dark as me. Don’t deny it, no point. I can see it in your eyes.” I attempt a kick, but he’s out of range. “See, right there. You’re a killer.”

        “I hunt demons and ghosts like you,” I snap. One of the ropes gives a little. My head is starting to pound. “There’s a difference.”

        “But you live for that feeling.” Clenching my jaw, I glare at him. That I can’t deny and he knows it. Carefully stepping around the collapsed pieces of ceiling, the ghost moves to stand directly in front of me. “You know, maybe Mukesh would make an exception for you. From what I’ve heard, he’s been watching you for a while. With your bloodlust, you could be usef…”

        What’s left of my control snaps. Using the ropes, I pull my body up and smash both my feet into his throat. As he staggers back, gagging and bug-eyed, I scream, “For-fucking-get it! The Sovereign is the only one I fight for!”

        Eyes beady, he snatches up the rifle. “Know what?” he coughs. “I don’t feel like waiting for your partners anymore.”

35 Chris

        My legs buckle as Larissa and I reach the entrance to Hansen, the building with the cafeteria. “Chris?!”

        “Fine,” I manage as she helps me to my feet. “I’ll be fine.” Without a word, Larissa slides an arm around my waist, careful not to cut me with her tekagi-shuko, and supports me as I push the door open.

        The halls that I’d roamed for months before and after that time have faded. Graffiti from kids stupid enough to dare each other to go inside cover the walls. I wonder how many he killed. As we make our way past the desk where all calls to the college were processed, a scream pierces the air. No….

        Gunshots bounce around in my head as my stomach heaves. A coppery taste coats my tongue and I feel light headed. Another scream and for a second I find myself watching as Tommy jerks forward, bullet lodged in his head.

        It’s not real. It’s not happening. You aren’t back there.

        My body doesn’t agree and my stomach heaves again. Pulling Larissa with me, I collapse to the floor. That’s when I realize that I’ve been puking blood. The red stains the floor. I turn my head away.

        There’s a sharp snap and a real scream hits my ears. Skandar! I was right. He’s here. Dizzy, I scramble to my feet and sprint to the stairs. No matter what, I can’t let him die. A gunshot. A scream. A thud of metal on flesh. A groan. More snaps. More shots. Too many. Skan!

        Somewhere in the back of my mind I know that I’m in the cafeteria but it doesn’t seem important. I pause for only a second to draw Quicksilver and confirm that Larissa is right behind me before stepping into the main room.

        It’s a mess. Tables are overturned or broken or both. Several chairs have been stabbed into the wall, their once bright plastic seats dull and scratched. Parts of the ceiling are buckled.

        In the center of the room is Skandar. The rope around his wrists is thrown over an exposed beam and his feet can barely touch the floor. And there’s blood; so much blood. He screams again, azure blue eyes squeezed shut, and my attention turns to the figure who’d just shot my partner in the side.

        The black skull T-shirt and ripped camouflage jeans haven’t changed. Neither has the spiked blond hair with its crimson tips. “Brad.”

        A smile crawls slowly across his face as he glances in my direction. “Chris, I’ve missed you. It’s been lonely haunting this place by myself.” 

A/N: Hey, guys. Sorry about yet another one chapter post. Fortunately, it’s not because of a lack of inspiration. Unfortunately, it’s because I have finals. Such is my luck; right when I have ideas, I don’t have time to write them. Wednesday will probably be another one post since I have a final on Thursday. But I promise I’ll make it up next Saturday.

Thanks to those who have stuck with “From Beyond” for so long. I really appreciate it.

Anne :)

36 Chris

        Mom’s standing in front of the memorial, crying. I place a hand on her shoulder, but she can’t feel me.

        I’m dead.

        There was so much that I’d wanted to do, to try. Be a teacher. Ask Rachel out. Get a dog. Go to my older sister’s wedding. Be at the airport when Dad got home from his business trip. Spend an entire day watching movies. But I can’t. I never will.

        Unable to stand being so close to Mom, I drift away. This has been my routine for a few months now. On the first of every month Mom, sometimes Dad and Hannah, drop by with flowers. I stay with them until it hurts too much and then I meander around the school until the next visit. Sometimes I sit in class, but most of the time I just stay at the dorm.

        “Hey, Chris!” a rough voice yells, sending a chill down my spine. It’s weird that I can still feel things like I did when I was alive, though I can’t taste or smell very well.

        “Brad,” I choke. “What?”

        “I’m bored.”

        “Not interested.” Going with him when he’s bored is dangerous. He’s the shooter, the bomber. When he’s bored, it only means pain for the rest of us ghosts, most of us victims of his first shooting. More and more have been vanishing though and I get the feeling Brad and I are the only ones left. I don’t know if he’s found a way to kill ghosts or if they’ve moved on. All I know is that I’m the only “plaything” he has left.

        “Come on, Chris,” he snarls. I can hear the safety on the gun click and I wince. Please let this work.

        Bang!

        Slowly, I open my eyes and look myself over. No wounds. So I wasn’t imagining things that one time when a car had gone through me. Intangibility.

        Another shot and Brad got the same result. Turning to face him, I say, “Forget it, Brad. Leave me alone.”

        “How the hell…?” he starts before he frowns and tilts his head like he’s listening to something. “Fine, Sanders, I’ll leave you alone. For now.” And he takes off.

        Weird, but I won’t question it. I’m safe for at least a few more days. I enter the dorm and go to my old room. It’s been emptied out, but, with no new resident, it’s still mine. My new home.

****

        I wake up to find to figures leaning over me. Scrambling upright, I back away. “Who…what…?”

        “It’s okay. It’s okay,” one soothes, holding up its hands. Now that my eyes have adjusted, I can tell that they’re female. The one that had spoken is older than the other, who looks like she’s a freshman in high school. “My name is Vafara. This is Naima. We’re here to help you move on.”

37 Chris

        “Let him go,” I order.

        Brad just laughs. “No way. I’ve been bored for so long. People don’t come here a lot and I can’t leave.” Tilting his head, he runs his tongue over his teeth with a dark smile. “Not yet, anyway.”

        Not yet? Skandar tries to speak, but Brad slams the butt of the rifle into his jaw. I flinch at the crack. Behind me, out of Brad’s sight, Larissa stirs, ready to spring. But she doesn’t; Brad doesn’t know she’s here yet. If I can keep his attention on me, then she has a chance of getting to Skan. “Last chance, Brad. Let him go.”

        “Or what, Chris?” he asks, throwing his arms wide. “You aren’t a killer, not like your partner.”

        I allow myself a small smirk. “I’m not as vicious as Skandar, no.” Leveling Quicksilver, I slide to the right. “But I’ve changed since you knew me. I will kill you.”

        A broad grin spreads across Brad’s face. “This should be interesting.” Slowly, he brings the rifle up. “Let’s see what you’ve got, spirit.”

        Bang! If I hadn’t been ready, that shot would’ve taken out my left knee. As he reloads, I duck behind the closest table. I challenged him, but we both know he has the advantage with long range weapons; I’m confined to close combat. Another crack tells me that he’s loaded and ready. A bullet bites through the table inches from my head and I scramble to the side. Why hadn’t I taken Skan up on his offer to teach me how to shoot?

        “Is this it?” Brad calls. “All talk and no bite? I don’t see how you’ve changed at all!”

        Taking a deep breath, I rise up into a runner’s crouch. Next shot and I go in; or at least get closer. Bang! Instantly I’m moving, weaving through the chairs and tables. He follows my moves and I can see his finger tighten on the trigger, but I’m already behind another table.

        “Okay,” he says, sounding pleased. “You’ve gotten faster. So I guess I need to upgrade.”

        Those words send chills down my spine. Carefully, I peer over the edge of the table. An automatic machine gun. I breathe a curse under my breath. Of course he’d have one. Several bullets tear past me and I duck lower. How am I supposed to…?

        My head’s pounding again and my breath’s becoming more ragged. Whatever’s gotten me this far is wearing off. I don’t have time. Peeking out, I catch a glimpse of Larissa gliding carefully from table to table behind Brad. More bullets rattle from the gun. Think, Chris. Think! How do you beat him?

        White hot pain flares up in my shoulder. Hissing with pain, I put a hand on the table to steady myself and…it passes right through. I snatch it back before Brad can notice. For a moment I just stare at my hand. That shouldn’t be possible. I’m a spirit not a ghost. Intangibility isn’t a skill we have. Is it because I’m back here?

        I push the questions away; even if it means that I’m losing myself again, this is the break I need. Something Skandar had mentioned on one of our missions comes back to me. “You know, I noticed something when I was fighting that ghost. When she was using his weapon, she couldn’t go intangible.” Not for the first time, I’m grateful for Skandar’s sharp observational skills.

        Slowly, I put Quicksilver down. If what Skan said is true, then carrying a sword wouldn’t be an option. With any luck, Brad won’t realize what I’m doing until too late. One more steadying breath, and I sprint out from my hiding place and head straight for my opponent.

        “The hell?” Brad shouts, firing shot after shot through me. I don’t give him time to say anything else, slamming my fist into his gut as hard as I can. There’s a whoosh of air as he doubles over. Wasting no time, I disarm him and toss the gun to Larissa. Somehow she’s already got the rifle. No wonder she’s a captain.

        “Can you handle him?” she asks.

        “Yeah,” I reply, landing another punch on Brad’s jaw. “Get...” I start, but Brad’s fist connecting with my ribs cuts me off.

        The rest is a blur of fists. At one point he pulls a knife from his shoe, but it doesn’t take long for me to get ahold of it. All the sparring sessions with Skandar and Greg have paid off.

        Finally, gasping, I have Brad pinned. Giving me a bloody smile, Brad spits, “Now what?”

        “You die.”

38 Skandar 

        Staggering through the portal, I nearly collide with someone. “What the hell?” I moan. After Chris killed the shooter, the portal had reopened. A good thing too because Chris and I are in bad shape. But the RotDA is in worse shape than us. The agency’s in chaos. People are running around, weapons and radios in hand. A lot of them are covered in blood, theirs or someone else’s I’m not sure.

        Larissa bites her lip as she looks around. “I need to find the other captains.” Pulling away from my side, she asks, “Can you boys get to the infirmary on your own?”

        “We’ll be fine,” Chris tells her as another agent rushes past.

        With a quick nod, Larissa sprints into the mass of bodies and disappears from view. Careful to stay near each other in case one of us collapses, Chris and I edge around the crowd. Fortunately, the infirmary is just down the hall so injured agents don’t have to go far for treatment. When we step inside, we pause, stunned by the sight.

        Nothing’s white anymore except for the bones poking out of skin. It looks and smells like someone had decided that painting the walls with blood would be a good idea. There’s so much screaming that it’s more white noise than anything else. Heidi is elbows deep in a patient across the room. Several agents hold another patient down as one of Heidi’s assistants amputates a crushed arm. Across the room, one of the patients is skewered with sharp spines.

        Beside me, Chris sways before doubling over and vomiting. This catches the attention of an assistant who immediately runs over to us. “Skan? Chris?”

        “Laurel?” I blink. I hadn’t recognized her in the stained coat and medical mask.

        “What happened?” she asks as she gently rubs Chris’s back.

        “A...job,” I manage. All the adrenaline is wearing off and I’m starting to really feel the injuries from that jackass.

        Catching the pain in my voice, Laurel glances at me. “Let’s get you to the other infirmary. I’ll patch you up there.”

        “Other infirmary?” I ask, swaying. Damn, I hurt.

        “There wasn’t enough room in the infirmary so we set up a temporary one for the less critical cases.” She helps Chris to his feet and wraps a supportive arm around his waist.

        “He should stay here,” I tell her. When she frowns, I say, “The job was at the college where he died. He needs more attention than I do.”

        After settling Chris onto the last open cot, Laurel comes over to me and pulls one of my arms up and over her shoulder. I bite back a scream as the bullet wound in my side stretches. “Sorry.” Our progress is slow; I can barely move now. My head is throbbing from the first time I was shot and my broken bones keep being jarred as people rush past. By the time we get to the other infirmary, I’m crying. No one comments. Good. If they did, I’d make their lives miserable.

        Once she’s given me morphine, Laurel starts treating me. Trying to ignore what she’s doing, I ask, “So what happened?”

        “A demon got in.” Her voice trembles and her hazel eyes are hollow. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

39 Skandar 

        “Demon?” I breathe. “But that’s impossible.”

        “We don’t know how it got in,” Larissa says softly. “Greg and I were at the cafeteria when we heard the screams and gunshots. When we got to the hall…” She pauses, staring off into space, the needle in her hand halfway through one of my stiches. “It was…huge. All red and black and gold. It was wolf like, but at the same time, not. Jagged wings arched up over its back, claws at the tips. Horns rose up behind its ears. But it was elegant. Almost beautiful. Like it had once been one of the Sovereign’s.”

        An elegant demon? “No demon looks like that…” I comment softly. “A new species?”

        Larissa shakes her head. “I don’t know.”

        For the next several minutes she’s quiet, focusing on patching me up. Finally, I ask, “What happened then?”

           “Greg and I joined the fight. No, it was more a massacre. It was stronger than a level A. And it knew how to fight. It didn’t operate on instinct like the other demons. It was as if it could think like us, calculate, predict, plan. We’re lucky that this many survived.

        “After fighting for a few minutes, we were forced to retreat to the training room. Greg, Susan, Kiki, and I were the only ones still standing when Captains Naima and Malik arrived. We gave them as much support as we could. But Malik still died.”

        I clench my jaw. I may hate the guy, but that didn’t mean I wanted him dead…most of the time. “How’d he…?”

        “Bitten in half.”

        “…Damn.”

        “Jushiro arrived and helped Naima drive the demon back into the hallway, but it overpowered them and rampaged through the rest of the agency.”

        Wincing as she set my fingers, I ask, “How many dead?”

        “A hundred forty-five.”

        My breath catches. “That’s almost half!”

        “And there will probably be more. We have several in critical condition.”

        As I stare at the ceiling, trying to process what I’ve just heard, there’s a movement in my peripheral vision and someone asks, “Where should I put this?”

        My heart nearly stops. I know that voice.

        “Just set it down there, Osborne. Thanks you.”

Initiation Speech

       Welcome to the Realm of the Dead Association. I am sure that this is quite a shock, so I am going to answer the most important questions before I continue. All of you sitting in this auditorium are dead. Each of you died within the last twenty-four hours and were found worthy of being given the chance to become an agent here at Realm of the Dead Association.

       Your qualifications include a good track record during your life, strong morals, and a strong personality. Our Sovereign has decided that you are capable of continuing to serve the Realm of the Living, your previous home. Those of you who do not fit these categories have been found deserving of a second chance. Serve this agency well, and you will be looked upon favorably.

       Now, the Realm of the Dead Association is the agency charged with hunting the demons and ghosts that have escaped into the Realm of the Living. These beings throw the world out of balance and cause damage to those who are still alive.

       Each of you will be individually assigned to one of our seven squads. There, you will be trained in the skills you will require to excel as an agent. Those of you who pass all of the tests shall become agents. Those who do not, will be sorted out among the positions available in the offices.

       You will receive further instruction once you reach your new squad. May you learn quickly and become effective agents. Once again, welcome to the Realm of the Dead Association.     

40 Mukesh

        “Okay! Thanks!” I chirp. As I set the box down, I sigh inwardly. Working undercover has disadvantages. Its most distasteful aspect is having to play a character that makes one’s head ache by the end of the day. This “Osborne” is one such persona.

        “Can I help with anything else?” I inquire of the agent who had sent me-me of all people- to fetch the box of extra linen for bandages.

        When she smiles at me, I resist the urge to strike her down. Soon I will drink my fill of their blood as the Sovereign watches, powerless. A delicious shiver caresses my spine. “Nope. Thank you, Os.”

        “Osborne.” As I stride down the aisles of the makeshift infirmary, I sense a hostile gaze tracking me. There’s no need to search for the source, I know this hostility well, having been its “victim” over the past month or so; Skandar Lynch.

          I curse softly, falling back to Latin. The colorful language is soothing and refined. Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly. Tension drains from my shoulders. That whelp’s presence is a nuisance now, the threat he once poised means nothing. Fordon’s attack will have alerted the captains to the fact that there is, in fact, a traitor. Whether they know my identity or not is no longer a concern. In fact, I’d almost welcome it. For now, however…

          Turning, I meet the boy’s eyes. “Somnus,” I whisper, filling the words with power. “In somno penitus.” Slowly, Lynch’s blue eyes fade with exhaustion before rolling back into his head. “Dream of the chaos to come. Perhaps we will have another sparring match before this is over.”

          At the thought of his flesh tearing beneath my teeth, I smile.

A/N: Hey. You all have permission to kill me. My time management sucks and I only have time to write one chapter tonight, it’s already 11:42. I have my first day of work tomorrow and I have to be there by 7 a.m.! Brutal for a night owl like me. I know I keep saying this, but I will make it up to you! I swear! Please hang with me. At least we know the name of the mysterious "?" right?

41 Skandar 

    Osborne. That traitorous little bastard. I start to sit up.

    “Skandar?” Laurel blinks, grabbing my shoulders. “I’m not done. Lay down.”

     Straining against her, I glare over the aisles of beds, patients, and nurses, fully focused on my target. “Osborne!” I hiss. My body feels like its shattering from the inside out but I ignore it. If he’s still here then no one’s safe.

   “Calm down,” Laurel soothes as she glances at the trainee. “He’s fine. See. He’s right there.”

    I shake my head. “That’s not it. He’s…”

    I trail off as, from across the room, Os turns to face me. Those grey eyes meet mine and hold me in place. His mouth moves, but I can’t tell what he’s saying. Exhaustion pulls on my limbs and I can feel myself fading. As I slump forward, Larissa gasps, “Skan?”

    Damn…it. My eyes feel like lead. Have to...tell her. Warn her. “Trait…” My tongue trips over itself. Come on, damnit. “Traitor.” The last thing I see is Laurel frowning, head tilted, lips parted slightly.

****

    “Skandar.”

    I ignore the voice and burrow deeper into the blankets. Don’t know who it is and don’t care. It’s way too early to be getting up no matter what the job.

    “Skandar. Wake up.”

    This time I recognize the voice. Larissa. Of course it’s her. Who else would be trying to drag me out of bed at such a hell forsaken hour? Something grabs my shoulder and shakes me gently. The pain drags me back to reality. Larissa and Vafara are standing over me. The older captain looks drained. There’re dark shadows beneath her violet eyes and her dark brown hair’s several uneven inches shorter.

    “What are you doing here?” I ask, trying not to wince as I shift into a more comfortable position.

    Vafara’s watching me closely as she says, “Laurel reported that you said something about a traitor before you passed out. Is this true?”

     Osborne! “Shit!” I bolt upright only to scream and fall back onto the rumpled cot. Writhing, I demand, “Where is he? Where’s Osborne?!”

      Both captains exchange looks before turning back to me. “Laurel,” Vafara calls softly. Seconds later there’s a screen up, separating us from the rest of the makeshift infirmary. Once she was sure we wouldn’t be interrupted, Vafara grabbed a chair and focused on me. “Tell me what you know.”

42 Skandar 

        “I don’t really know anything for sure,” I say slowly. “It’s just a feeling.”

        Vafara smiled, an amused spark in her eyes. “No need to feign modesty. Your instincts are often correct and you don’t lie about what you think.”

        “Don’t encourage him,” Larissa sighs.

       This earns a soft laugh from Vafara before her expression becomes more serious. “What makes you believe there’s a traitor?”

        “How else could a demon get in?” I reply. “Only people from the agency can use the portal. It wouldn’t be hard for a traitor to override the portal’s anti-demon barrier. It also explains the timing of the attack. Think about it.”

        “Most of our strongest agents were out patrolling high-risk ghost zones,” Vafara says slowly. “Eli was also absent, meeting with the Sovereign.”

        Chewing her lip, Larissa frowns. “But why do you think it’s Osborne? He’s useless.”

        I wince inwardly. This part pisses me off the most. How did I miss it when I first started training him? When I feel them staring at me, I sigh. “That’s what he wants us to think. Hell, I barely believe it, but at the same time…”

        “But why?” Larissa demands.

        “I was training him about a week or so after the new mission rules. I decided I’d train at the same time so I fought with a blindfold on. That’s how I noticed; I paid more attention to how things felt rather than how things look. He holds back. He’s messing up on purpose. The timing of every mistake is too perfect. And it’s not just that. When I heard the voices in the training room, they vanished when Osborne showed up. I didn’t any sign of intruders. Nothing. There’d have to be something if someone had been in the room.”

        The two captains are quiet. Finally, Vafara stands up. “Thank you. We’ll find him.” Placing a hand on my shoulder, she nods to me. “I’m glad you’re safe. That mission was rough on you and your partner.”

       As she turns to leave, I remember something the ghost had said about being bored and stuck at the school. “Vafara?”

        Halfway out of the improvised room, she pauses. “Yes?”

       “Does the name Mukesh mean anything to you?”

        The change is immediate. Her body goes rigid as her eyes widen. “Where did you hear that?” I start at the sound of her voice. It’s never been that harsh before. Seeing my reaction, she softens her tone, but she’s still on edge. “Where did you hear that?”

        “The ghost. He said that he was bored with no one around and that Mukesh had promised him some toys. There was something else about being able to leave and the world being his play…” There’s a sliver of panic in her violet eyes. “ground,” I finish. “What…?”

        “Get some rest.” Without another word, she whirls around and vanishes down the aisle. Why do I get the feeling that things just became way more dangerous?

43 Chris

        Books and records are spread out on top of me and the bed. After Heidi’d patched me up, I was moved to my own room since my injuries aren’t fatal; they’re more psychological. It’s a relief to be away from all of the blood and screams in the sickbay. I’ve even managed to get a few hours of rest, not enough to feel great but at least I can think clearly again. I frown as I watch Skan pour over the dusty volumes. Then again, if I’m seeing my partner researching I’m probably hallucinating…

        Catching my expression, Skandar smacks my head lightly. “Ow!” I protest. “What was that for?”

       “It’s not like I’ve never read a book before,” he replies, pushing his black hair out of his eyes. He needs a haircut.

       “So what are you looking for anyway?” I ask as I pick up one of the books.

        Eyes glued to the page, Skan shrugs. “Anything that has to do with someone named Mukesh.”

         “Mukesh?” I repeat.

        “I don’t know either,” he shrugs and winces. Honestly, I’m amazed he’s allowed to be moving around in his condition. But if the agency’s as bad as he’s described they probably don’t have time to monitor him. I shake my head. Of course he’d take advantage of that and do whatever he wants.

     He shoots me a glare. “I’m not an invalid.”

     “Stop reading my mind.”

     “I’m not. You’re just an open book.”

     I sigh. At least all he’s doing is researching. Speaking of which… “Why the sudden interest in Mukesh?”

    “That ghost we fought…”

     I flinch.

      “mentioned the name and something about a promise. And when I brought the name up with Vafara she looked...panicked.” Slamming the book in his hands closed and tossing it aside, he grabs the one closest to my feet. “I wanna know why.”

      “So you went to the records office?”

      “It’s not like I have access to the System and a RotDA internet.” He points to the volume in my hand. “You gonna help or what?” When I just look at him, he smirks. “Not like you’re going anywhere.”

    “Fine.”

***

    “Got it!”

    The triumphant shout after so many hours of silence nearly sends me through the roof. “Really?” I gasp as I retrieve the book from the floor.

    “No. I just felt like giving you a heart attack,” Skan rolls his eyes. “Yes really.”

    Leaning over for a better look, I squint at the spidery handwriting. It looks like the words are running from something. Together, we stare at the pages.

44 Entry

          Journal of Gabriel son of Joshua.

          Entry 23: It has been three moons since our battle with the ghost of Lilith yet I feel as if her shadow still haunts Mukesh. He is restless, unable to train. Barely a word has passed between us. I fear the witch’s words have taken root in his mind.

          Entry 30: Mukesh has gone. His words ring in my ears even now. I had approached him with the vain hope that he would confide in me, his partner of over a hundred and twenty-seven years. But I can see now that it was a fool’s errand. The witch’s lies had indeed poisoned his soul and now he turns his back on the Sovereign. How my heart cries for the loss of his faith! Sovereign save him from the darkness that consumes his heart. Bring him once again into the protection of Your mighty wings.

          Entry 36: Mary and I are searching for Mukesh, but have found no trace of him. Where has he gone? What has he been doing? Sovereign, give me the strength to face him. Provide Your servant with the words that will guide him back to You.

          Entry 42: There is no hope left for him. He has called upon the dark arts to amass an army of demons and ghosts to rend apart the barrier between living and dead. If that balance were to be lost, death shall be no more and humans will no longer fear the consequences of their actions. It will be a world of the Devil, turned from its Sovereign Father. With heavy heart, I take up arms against my former friend and partner.  

          Entry 48: The war is won. Mukesh and his forces are defeated and scattered. I know not what his fate was or will be. But mine is at its journeys end. Soon I shall pass on to join the Sovereign in the Promised Land. I leave with no regrets. I have served my people and my Holy Father. May the future generations stay strong in faith and body and serve with loyalty.      

45 Chris

    “Damn,” Skan breathes before getting up and pacing.

    I nod in agreement, still staring at the page. To think that an agent went rogue and tried to destroy the barrier…it doesn’t seem real. But the records don’t lie and Skandar said that Vafara reacted to the name so… “So you think Mukesh is back?”

    Still pacing between my bed and the door, Skan drops a hand to his hip before remembering that his gun isn’t there. “Yeah,” he sighs, fingers drumming against his leg. Even this injured he wants to fight. Typical of my partner. Not that I don’t understand it. He’s never explained but after working with him for five years I’ve gotten a pretty good idea. When there’s a threat, he hates sitting on the sidelines, hates watching as things fall apart.

    “He must’ve been planning this for years,” Skan says, pulling me away from my thoughts.

    “Probably,” I agree. “But why attack now? Why hasn’t he done it sooner?”

    “How the hell would I know? It’s not like I…” Skandar trails off, eyes darkening as he glares at the floor. If looks could cause damage, my floor would be the newest member on the causality list.

    “You what?” I ask. Something’s off. Why did he just trail off like that?

    “Forget it.”

    “Skan…” I start.

“I said forget it!” he snaps, turning from me to stare at the floor, hands clenched at his sides. His breaths seem faster, unsteady.

    What’s bothering him? “Are you okay?”

    “Fine,” he growls, still not looking at me.

    Carefully, I get out of bed. My body aches but I ignore it. I need to figure this out. Putting a hand on his shoulder, I say, “Liar. What’s wrong?”

    Eyes flashing dangerously, he pulls away. “Damnit, Chris, nothing! Just leave me a…!”

    My own temper rising, I grab his collar and shove him against the wall. This shocks him into silence. Usually I don’t take the offensive, I don’t like pushing him, but the way he’s acting…I know that if I leave this alone it’ll eat away at him. “Stop bull-shitting! I’ve seen that look before, damnit! It’s self-loathing!” He opens his mouth. “Let me finish,” I order, dropping my voice. “I am not about to let you tear yourself apart for no good frickin’ reason. I can help. Just trust me for once!” Slowly, he relaxes and I let him go. We stand there for several moments, both getting over the fact that I had shouted. “Look, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t push it.”

    Shaking his head, Skan sighs. “No. It’s cool. I shouldn’t have snapped.” There’s a pause before he moves to sit on the bed. “It’s something the ghost said before you and Larissa showed up.” Jaw clenching, Skandar drops his hand for his gun again, searching for an anchor. I lower myself down next to him. “He said that I was like him. A dark, twisted killer.” There it is again. That darkness in his eyes. Don’t tell me Skan…

    “And the thing is, he’s right. I live for the feeling of battle, of finishing off the enemy. He even said that Mukesh might make an exception for me. Let me join him. That…” his voice gets softer and I struggle to catch the last few words. “scares me.” Silence again. Then, “Damn this feels like a chick-flick.”

    He’s trying to lighten the mood so I humor him and laugh. “My bad. My bad. It’ll be over soon.”

    “It can’t end now?”

    “Nope. Sorry.” Leaning back, I stare up at the ceiling, focusing on the light. “You aren’t like Brad. Not at all.” I can feel him shift. “Don’t interrupt. The chick-flick moment will end faster if you let me talk.” This gets a soft snort. “Shut up. Anyway, you aren’t like him. You fight to protect. You care about others.”

    “I wasn’t always like that,” he murmurs.

    “That’s interrupting,” I remind him. He punches me lightly on the arm and I push his hand away. “And who you were doesn’t matter. What matters is who you are. Besides, you’re forgetting the Sovereign chose you to be an agent. I trust Him. You should too.”

    I don’t need to see him to know he’s smiling. “Is the girly stuff over?” he asks.

    “Yeah.”

    Getting up, he moves to the door. “Get some rest.”

    “You too.”

    “Yes, mom,” he replies, rolling his eyes.

A/N: Hey. So another one chapter, but I’ve been good lately so please don’t kill me. I know this chapter is a bit slow, but I wanted some team bonding. And I have to put this out there: Chris and Skandar are friends! Brothers! Nothing else. Sorry, but I don’t want people misinterpreting their interactions. They care about each other the way family does. Anyway, as always comments are welcome. Suggestions, thoughts, things you like, where you think this is going, anything really. Just please don’t flame. It kills inspiration. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Thanks to everyone who has stuck with me too this point. I know it’s long. -_-“