Chapter 170: B4 — 40. An Introduction To Havana

AuthorSME

PoV:

1. Luka (A Esper Champion Demi of Havana!)

2. Anthony (Rachel's Boyfriend!)

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Luka pulled down his hood as the chilled rain fell around him; he swore he saw his breath for a moment, but it was probably his mind since it was seventeen degrees celsius.  A solemn frown touched his lips while glancing to his left, where a gray and brown earthen wall stood sentry, running down the length to cut off a fourth of Havana.

The lingering hurricane came out of nowhere, causing even more trouble for the city’s depressed occupants, and Luka felt it in his daily interactions.  He shivered while watching the liquid run off the eight-meter earthen barrier, the pool of rain around his feet setting his mood.  At least they were at the tail-end of the storm, but it could loop back.

A rumble shook in his throat as he peered through the wet veil to the damaged road of Arroyo; the heavily traveled, four-lane highway used to be on his daily route, but now, all he saw was the remains of the tall buildings nearby.

Riots, chaos, and terrorism were rampant the first week after the lights cracked the sky, changing a portion of the population and granting them supernatural powers—he’d been among those affected, which gave him insight into how it transformed others.

He wasn’t a murderer or instantly wanting to use his new gifts to harm and take things from others, which meant it was just human nature taking its course in those already willing to partake in the violence once anarchy started.

Thunder rumbled across the sky; it was the first he’d heard in a while, making him grip his arms and stare at the black, low-hanging clouds.  Please don’t get worse…

It might have been his imagination, but the soft wind seemed to pick up a few degrees, and unsurprisingly, near ten at night, no one was near the northeast part of Noah’s territory; there were rumors that if you got too close to the wall, the creatures or people with powers on the other side would pull you over.

Luka wouldn’t be here at all if it wasn’t for his mission to follow after the mysterious foreigner that was involved in a few scuffles throughout the week.

His brown irises illuminated, peering into the past to see the boisterous Indian man walking down the road with a large table umbrella over his head; Luka had no doubt there were a few women by his side, but he didn’t want to expend the extra mental energy to expand his past-sight.

Releasing his gift, Luka sighed, nervously glancing up at the wall; he couldn’t see anyone manning the thick ramparts built into the structure, but that didn’t mean it was unguarded.  Noah sent a few strong men with their own powers to check out the other side, and none of them responded, their radios cutting out without warning.

It was about to be the beginning of the 26th day since the world turned on its head and twisted his life into a living hell.

“March 11th, huh?”  he whispered, thinking about how he should have been helping his older sister clean up her baby shower party—it had been planned for months, but now, she was trapped within that stone cage.

He wanted to rush in and get her out, but Noah convinced him to wait a bit longer; they were gathering their forces, but at the same time, most of the manpower they’d gained had been sent off into the bordering provinces to bring order and supplies back to Havana.

When can we finally rescue my sister?  I don’t even know if she’s alive, but Thiago would die before letting anything happen to her—he’s a good man … There isn’t much he can do against thousands of people with abilities, though.

Luka sucked in his lower lip, tasting the rain; he was getting distracted, yet it happened every time he saw the growing wall—it began construction three days after the start of the riots, and most people stayed inside their homes or businesses, hoping to escape, but the fires claimed a few blocks in the city—he could still smell the burning flesh that made him want to vomit.

 Hector Collado, the President of Cuba, had been swiftly assassinated by some local revolutionary group that was soon killed in the following military raids, seeking to instill order, yet with so much disorder, the other state officers were killed before evacuating.

He’d heard much of this a week after the incident, stumbling into Noah’s rallies to bring order to their city again—the Bronze Titan took control, forcing out other factions and creating a safe zone by stationing armed and supernatural powered men in key locations to carve a place for the women, children, and elderly.  Although many women rose up to join where they could, yet sadly, they didn’t have the munitions to provide better training.

Today, he’d been struck by an even worse bit of news; Pau Arroyo, the First Secretary of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of Cuba, had been found tied to the wall—partially eaten—for them to see this morning.

It seemed the northeast terrorists had their fun with him before displaying the naked political dignitary to them as a statement; there was no returning to normal.  What had become of his sister and her husband if they did that to Pau?

Please, Aina, keep your head down, and stay safe … I'll get you out … Just be safe…

Luka could only hear the pattering of rain as he cautiously traveled past Arroyo and San Joaquin, occasionally using his strange ability to see past events of those he’d seen in a twenty-four-hour time.  It advanced over the weeks as he used it, to the point where now he could expand it to a small area to see those around his target and their environment, yet it still made his head hurt.

He walked around Vasishtha, studying his face to see his typical charm had faded, and he was now looking to his right, scanning the wall as he stood in the downpour.  Despite Luka studying so closely, he knew there would be no response since the image was from twenty minutes ago; he liked to keep his distance as to not be discovered.

Still, it made him wonder what the foreigner thought when studying the prison—it made Luka ask himself many questions he didn’t have answers for.

How are they getting food?  Are they using the boats or fishing to the north?  Why is there so little information … Is everyone just too scared to watch the other side?  Noah evacuated the right side of the bay since there was poisonous gas lingering around … Is the water going to flush it away or bring it to us … What more can I do than babysit this guy?!

Rubbing his forehead with his wet hands, Luka growled; he could be so much more helpful, yet couldn’t think of anything to bring to any of Noah’s lieutenants—he was best at spying, yet he needed to see a target to lock onto their past movements—it was so aggravating.

He glared at the wall, recalling the whispers he’d heard among the other soldiers keeping their little safe section in order.

A large, scarred man raised these walls … He’s increased their size every day.  If I could just see him, then maybe we could kidnap him and force him to break it down—tell us what’s happening inside—if I could just see anyone, but they’re just hiding behind that stupid wall!

Forcing his gaze away from the barrier, he brushed off the liquid sticking to his white and blue jacket, returning to his task at hand.  He’d been tailing a man the local women called Vasishtha, and if it hadn’t been for his unusual radio calls, he’d be prime material for Noah to bring into the fold.

Luka activated his ability again, discovering Vasishtha left his stationary observation of northeast Havana after a minute, and it struck him.  Why would the women not force him away—they’re terrified of the wall?

Expanding his past vision with some effort, he paused.  The women—when did they leave?!  Did he somehow throw them over the wall between the stills?

He backtracked real fast, scanning each action he took in more detail; his sight into the past didn’t extend beyond an hour, so he had to be sure now.  Up until now, he’s always been surrounded by women!  Sleeping, drinking, showing him around the neutral areas—dammit!  He’s been grooming them for…

Luka’s hurried movements slowed as he saw the bright-eyed Indian man smile and wave—at first, he’d thought it was him bringing in more girls that had become infatuated by the handsome man, but after broadening his scope, he saw that wasn’t the case—he’d sent them off with another man that he’d seen in the area plenty of times.

He had one of the soldiers escort them back into the heart of the southeast district?  Why is he choosing to be alone, now?  What’s he plotting?

Quickening his pace, Luka returned to the path, trying to catch up to Vasishtha.  The man had a routine that made Luka’s blood boil, and it only increased over the six days he’d been following his journey through the city—it was always the same—booze, swooning women, dancing, eating a ton, and mingling with his harem of girls until it was time to sleep, at which many joined the handsome man.

Yes, Luka admitted he was very attractive and had a forward personality that many women would find appealing, yet he had to wonder if there was some kind of foul play at work, as well.  Although, the one thing that made him pause, and caused Leonardo Valerio, a lieutenant of Noah, to keep him observing the man, was his bizarre behavior.

If he had just been a womanizer, then women could choose who they liked, and many went for that kind of man, but if there was some manipulation involved, there was something to be done.  However, Jaume sent inspectors to talk to the women, and not a trace of power could be sensed influencing them.

Not only that, but he’d stood up for every girl that ran to his side, unless she was in the wrong, at which he’d scold her—dozens of abusive men had been laid out by the man, though—with or without abilities.

Luka could understand why he attracted such a following of women that just wanted to feel safe; men, as well, but he was more of a strict older brother, whipping them into shape to have more courage in that sense.  In a way, he was a more soft version of Noah—a leader that rallied support—yet he never claimed to be over any particular area.  

Vasishtha seemed to just do what he wanted and protect the weak; Luka just wanted to know who he talked to on that radio he used after his nighttime activities.  Once the women were exhausted in bed, of which Luka blushed just thinking about those images, the Indian man would go to the balcony to speak to someone.  It only happened three times, and it was reasonably quick, but it was still suspicious.

Hissing out his frustration—both sexually and with feelings of inadequacy—Luka powerwalked through the falling rain until he arrived at one of the more classy neutral bars.

The establishment was between the southeast and southwest district—technically on the Lion King’s territory—yet the beastman was the only agreeable tyrant.  Luka would actually put him in a similar category as Noah, but no one would beat the Bronze Titan in his book; the Golden Lion of Havana had even acknowledged Noah as a worthy opponent, and every night at eight P.M., he waited for their leader to enter his stadium.

Estadio Latinoamericano—Havana’s famous baseball stadium—had been turned into a sporting event for the Cuban citizens under his protection.  He had turned into a sort of god figure to those that used his overpowering guardian in his district.

Thousands had challenged him, including various strong ability users from other districts, in that stadium—groups, alone—it didn’t matter.  He’d heard rumors that he stood atop three hundred bodies two weeks ago, and it was two hundred the next.

Three days ago, he’d heard the roar from the Lion King, followed by cheers.  He’d turned his section of Havana into ancient Rome, and shockingly, people loved it.  Of course, he’d heard the whispers that he used to be a slave to an African Warlord—a Greek man, parents killed during a humanitarian aid mission to the country and forced into the fight pits for sport—yet now, he was the master.  It was survival of the fittest, and he was the king without question.

Luka always felt nervous going on this side of town, even if it was among the most prosperous; their ability users dedicated their skills toward producing food and water since so few even considered challenging the Golden Lion.  He could taste the conflict that would eventually rise—no lion stayed in his kingdom when there was no challenge to be had—the king would soon roam, and he wasn’t the only one that could feel it.

He paused outside the bar, focus wandering between the dark street lights—electricity had been restored, but the bulbs were all destroyed in the riots.  In the darkness, he could see several beast people hanging around, muttering to one another.  Order was strictly kept inside the beast kingdom, and even if it had many types of power users, those that had turned beast-like or monstrous swarmed to the area to partake in the arena to fulfill some bloodlust.

I can’t just hang around outside…

Obviously, the beastmen knew he was there—it was stupid to think they wouldn’t sense him if he could see them.

He hurried inside, brushing off his coat and taking a moment to scan the interior; the sound of the falling rain diminished as the door closed behind him.  The booths and tables weren’t packed, but there were a decent number of people inside.

Of course, his focus was instantly snatched by the cat and dog-like waitresses the business employed; it was a new world, and he even spotted a woman with elf-like features from the movies.  The servers were giving their full attention to the back corner where Vasishtha sat, sipping a beer—again, alone, and with the longing gaze the women gave the man, he’d garnered quite the reputation from his last visit—still, he seemed to have refused their company.

Luka felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up while going to the bar; it didn’t sit right with him.  Why is he rejecting his harem of attention-seeking women?  He has to be waiting for someone—the person he’s been talking to on the radio?  It looks like a military model—advanced—so it could go pretty far, but he could be working with the terrorists from the north.

Despite the shivering chill down his spine, the atmosphere was warm and inviting; soft music played in the back from local musicians that relied on their skills to eat in the slowed economy.  Luka had seen the Indian man boast of his strength more than once to an enthralled bar, challenging beastmen to wrestling contests, and always seeming to win by a hair's margin for entertainment, yet Luka knew the man was holding back.  He long suspected this stranger was of the special changed humans, like Noah.

Most of the women couldn’t even understand his English or whatever Indian language he used—he didn’t have a clue what they spoke and heard there were many variant languages in the country.  Everything he knew from shadowing Vasishtha over the past six days screamed that this was something serious.

Taking a seat across the room at the bar, he motioned to the bartender, ordering the cheapest beer—there wasn’t much pay in his work since Noah practiced the public service approach, giving back as much as possible to the people in these challenging times—it was challenging for everyone in the southeast’s stalled economy.

At least some trade was being made with the Lion King’s territory, which helped.  Unfortunately, people saw a greener pasture across the fence and sought to make the southwest their home, but from what he’d heard, everything was merit-based—there were no free meals in the west.

Even so, it showed in the bright smiles on most of the residents' faces; yes, the Lion commanded respect and had killed thousands that opposed his reign—many times in large groups of power users, yet he’d never once lost, building people’s confidence in the peace—the Golden Lion of Havana was becoming a symbol.

Five minutes passed, and Luka continued to discreetly watch Vasishtha’s silent wait; by the glasses of alcohol the women were happily bringing to his table, he was expecting company, and naturally, there were sour looks from some girls he politely sent away.  Of course, not toward him, but whoever was stealing his time.

What’s your game?  Luka thought, sipping at the bottle he’d been given.  Who’s important enough for you to stop chasing skirts and asking questions about local politics?

His heart picked up; it looked more and more like Vasishtha was meeting with his boss—perhaps a new contender vying for power in Cuba—there’d been rumors of Camagüey expanding their territory.

Luka’s eyebrows pulled together when an unlikely woman entered the bar—exotically gorgeous, wearing a pretty, well-designed violet skirt and white blouse; she drew in the umbrella she’d used in the storm, shaking it off—a shimmering white-haired bunny girl entered alone.

Her unusual pink four-leaf clover eyes scanned the stilled room before closing the door and cutting off the storm’s sound behind her.  The girl’s full rosy lips displayed a pleasant smile as she spotted Vasishtha’s big grin and wave, yet her focus drifted past the handsome man to settle on Luka.

A nervous twist squeezed his gut as she bypassed the Indian man’s easy atmosphere to weave through the tables and chairs to stand before Luka; the room was silent as they watched the long-haired beauty approach the bar, purple heels tapping against the wooden floor.

Luka couldn’t help but swallow upon seeing the colossal emerald pendant between her bust, swiftly trying to redirect his focus as she neared.

“Hello,” she cordially started.  “Do you speak English?”

Trying to clear his parched throat, Luka licked his lips, unable to pull his gaze away from her hypnotic presence—a faint pink aura surrounded her lustrous white skin, making her seem straight out of a fairytale, and her large curved-forward ears only enhanced the look.

“Uh—yeah, yeah, a little—heh, there are classes for those in the tourist business and stuff—I mean, grab ten people off the street, and at least one of them will speak English.”

Her smile brightened, directing his attention to Vasishtha’s table in the back corner.  “Would you mind joining us?”

A quiver ran down his spine as his gaze wandered to the handsome man’s bright, welcoming grin.  No—of course, he’d have some exotic girl like this with him, but … why hasn’t she shown up until now, and how did he know I was tailing him?

His mind snapped out of its hesitation as the girl rested both hands on her umbrella and placed the tip against the floor.  “Is something the matter?”

“Umm—eh, I guess, but umm … No, is there something you need?”  he stammered, noticing the women that usually had Vasishtha’s attention glaring at the foreign bunny girl.  “Do I know you—no, I, heh, definitely don’t…”

She giggled, long hair swaying against her shoulders while gently shaking her head.  “No, we’ve never met, but I believe we can help you with something—it should only take a minute.”

Dammit…  Catching the looks that many of the men were giving him, including the bartender, it would be very suspicious if he turned down her request, and in neutral territory, he didn’t want to make a scene.  “Sure, eh—I don’t know what I can do for you—or, wait, umm, you can do for me?  Uhrm-mm-hmm, just give me a second,” he muttered, forcing a smile and scratching above his right ear.

“Wonderful.  I’ll be waiting,” she said, and his mouth filled with saliva again upon seeing the light red tint touch the girl’s smiling cheeks as she turned away.

The man behind the bar hummed, following her path like everyone else in the room, and Luka couldn’t miss her puffy tail swaying with her thick locks of sparkling pinkish-white hair as her body swayed; there was a black streak he caught after a second, too.

“Hmm,” the bartender leaned against the counter next to him, wearing a curious grin.  “Now, what’s a girl like that comin’ to a guy like you?”  he mumbled, cupping his chin and clearly not understanding English.

“I wish I knew,” Luka returned, taking a breath to ease his thumping heart and finishing off his beer.  “Grab me another one.”

“For the woman, I assume?” he smirked.  “I’d suggest something a bit more classy, my friend—don’t go cheap on a girl like that.”

One of the serving cat women inched closer to listen, turning her acidic stare to him while hissing in Spanish.  “Who is she—what’s her relationship to Vasishtha?”

“Woah, yeah—I can’t tell you?”  he shrugged, trying to remain calm in the turning atmosphere.  “Eh—no—yeah, I guess, get me a beer and her … something a girl would like?”

“Something a girl would like,” he repeated, ruefully shaking his head while scanning the shelf behind him.  “Guys like you … Eh, maybe something a bit more refined?”

“Hey!”  the serving girl cut in, moving closer to hound him with a dirty look—the others weren’t far behind.  “You can’t tell me, or you won’t?”

“Seriously!  I don’t know them—at all…” he hissed, digging through his pocket to take out some money.  “Eh—what’ll this give me?”

Luka took out the rest of his food allowance for the next two days, causing the man to grimace and take his hand off a dark brown bottle to select another.  “That’s funny, but … Gah, for a guy with your looks—I’ll help ya out and start a tab, son—you’re in Noah’s part of town.  Right?”

Damn, I’m not that ugly…  Luka internally grumbled, watching the man take all of his money.  “Eh … Yeah,” he sighed, “fine, fine—I’ll get it back to you … Do you know anything about them?”

You are reading story The Oscillation at novel35.com

They turned their attention back to the pair as the rabbit girl sat across from Vasishtha, smiling while speaking softly to one another; the two appeared to be well-acquainted by their attitude, yet there was a clear difference between how he talked to this woman compared to the beast girls.

An unsettling thought turned his belly.  “Is she with the Lion King’s group?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me,” the bartender muttered, but the cat woman swiftly protested, her braided black hair shifting to lean against the side of the counter.

“Absolutely not—I’d know her if she was—no, she’s totally new!  What if she’s from the northwest?  She could be trying to lure Vasishtha into some trap!”

The bartender chuckled, filling up a glass with a dark brown rum, showing Havana Club Anejo 7-Year, on the bottle.  “You’ve read too many of those mystery books, Cloe.  News would spread fast about a woman that looks like that—and speaks English, hmm … I don’t know—sounds like she’s from the States.  Another contender wanting to face the King?”  he offered.

Luka’s eyebrows drew together.  “Possible … thanks for the drinks.”

“Tell her to leave Vasishtha alone,” Cloe hissed—actually sounding like a cat—she was practically grinding her teeth while snarling at the exotic beauty.  “He’s a good man—she can keep her grubby paws off him.”

Likely given her younger age, Luka wasn’t surprised to see her jealousy, and given what Vasishtha had done for many women around Havana—getting them out of dire circumstances—he could see why they’d quickly grown attached to the Indian man.  However, it could be an act to be accepted in the neutral territory.

Taking the item with him, Luka sat the drink before her, cautiously sitting between them on the four-person table.  “Heh—eh, do you drink?  Maybe I should have asked what you liked…”

The white-haired rabbit girl hummed, leaning an arm against the wood while resting a hand against her cheek; she seemed oblivious to the visual daggers many of the women sent her.  “You’ve been tailing Vasishtha for quite some time, it seems.  I know enough Spanish at this point to recognize that you’re from Noah’s faction.”

Luka’s blood ran cold; he hadn’t expected her to be so forward, yet she took his mild shock as acceptance and pressed on.

“My name is Rachel; Vasishtha and I are with the U.S. government, and we’ve been liberating Cuba, province by province.  I’m sure Noah will hear about it within the next few days, but Guantánamo, Santiago de Cuba, Holguín, Granma, Las Tunas, Camagüey, and Isla de la Juventud have all been freed from terrorist control—tragically, everyone in Ciego de Ávila was killed by the Camagüey devil before we arrived.”

His lips felt dry, shaking brown eyes fixating on the gorgeous beast girl’s casual demeanor as she explained the state of his country.  “The U.S. military has—has invaded Cuba?”

“Oi,” Vasishtha frowned, clicking his tongue, “liberated—she said liberated, my man.  The U.S. is gonna be doing the whole helpin’ ya get back on your feet thing—provide peace for you to get order back, so all these women don’t have to be afraid anymore,” he grunted, waving at the glaring servers that changed tunes on a dime as he looked at them, returning pleasant gestures.

Rachel’s focus fell to the drink he’d given her, voice low as her ears shifted to the left.  “I’m being straight with you, Luka; I don’t have time to waste here.  These big ears aren’t for show, and I’ve been listening closely to what is happening throughout Havana.  Yes, Noah has brought a semblance of peace to a great many eastern provinces, yet his forces are spread thin, and it shows.”

Luka’s jaw locked as Rachel lifted the glass to sip the dark liquid, smacking her lips once flavoring it; the worst part was that he agreed with her, but he couldn’t say it.  “A few days?  You don’t know anything—this is the closest to normal things have been since everything went insane, and Noah has thousands of ability users protecting other provinces—we have the most territory!”

He glared at the pair.  “I’m sure the U.S. invasion will be better than what I saw before—I pray it is—so, you brought more than half of Cuba’s provinces under your control, and that tells me a lot, but we have people everywhere too.  We’ve brought peace to Sancti Spíritus, Villa Clara, Cienfuegos, Matanzas, and Mayabeque!  We haven’t been doing nothing!”

“I never said you weren’t,” Rachel whispered, glowing eyes returning to him.  “You do have people there yet haven’t regained control in all of those areas; we have reports you overran Cuba military in a city—mind explaining that?”

Luka snorted.  “Yeah, tell me you don’t know anything without saying it!  Those weren’t Cuban military—they were soldiers of the Puppet Master using them—how much do you really know again?”  he scoffed, forcing down most of the beer in his hand.

“Is that right?”  Rachel evenly hummed, folding her fingers under her chin.  “Admittedly, our information isn't complete, which—mmgmh … She’s found me already…”

Vasishtha groaned, running a hand through his thick black hair.  “That Witch woman you were telling me about?  Lord Shiva, help me … Please, don’t be hot.”

“Who?”  Luka asked, glancing back at the door; no one was coming in, yet they were generating a lot of attention, even if speaking low enough to not be overheard; although, he had to wonder with a few of his outbursts, and the beast women might have good hearing by their twitching ears and worried eyes.  “What Witch woman?”

Rachel’s pleasant tone turned cold and commanding.  “If you value the lives of the people here, keep quiet, Luka—Relica has a temper.”

“I’m—”  he cut off as a stream of black smoke drifted through the closed window to gather behind the free chair across from him; within seconds of appearing, a seductive dark-haired woman formed out of the smog.

“Rachel,” she cooed, smirking eyes drifting to Vasishtha.  “Consider me impressed by the aftermath of Camagüey—although something went wrong with my double—might you fill in the blanks?”

Vasishtha popped his tongue with a short groan.  “Damn…”

Rachel straightened, smoothly shifting her drink to the woman.  “I figured you’d show up soon; it’s not my flavor, but you might enjoy it.”

Relica giggled, absently waving her hand.  “How sweet!  Unfortunately, I cannot eat in this form, but I so appreciate the offer!”

Her thoughtful gaze narrowed.  “Hmm … Did something good happen in Camagüey?  I feel you’re warming up to me!  Wolfgang paid me a short visit, but sadly, our dealings were just business—although I did get what I wanted,” she added with a devilish grin.  “It’s unlike you to let prey escape, though—I’m curious.”

Luka swiftly concluded that Rachel was likely Vasishtha’s superior, or at least held a degree of command he respected, and by the current conversation, she wasn’t just a pretty face.  Whoever this new woman was, Rachel, at least, thought of her as a dangerous enemy.

Not wanting to step into something that didn’t concern him, he took the rabbit girl’s advice to listen and learn; the more he heard, the more panicked he became, and more than a few people promptly exited the bar, sensing the tense storm brewing.  Surely, someone was going to inform the Lion King.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” Rachel smirked, meeting the woman’s gaze while crossing her leg.  “Everyone had a part to play, and you were helpful, without a doubt—this, however, is causing me some trouble—calculated on your part, I assume.”

A sharp clap came from the dark-haired woman, yet most of the bar’s occupants were already out the door.  “Heh-he-he, well, when I noticed you, my friend suggested I make a swift entrance; he’s a smart cookie like you, but I’m so happy to hear that we were all helpful to stop such a calamity—I was so worried!”

Relica’s focus wandered between the few cautious individuals that were left, including the serving beast girls and bartender—the beastmen outside entered soon after, posting up by the bar to mutter to the girls—she was practically ignoring the guards.

“Where’s my lovely Scarlet, Rachel?”  concern on her tongue.  “I was so worried about you two after my double was destroyed without returning her memories—also … there’s something … off about you … Mmh, an unease I only felt when in that hellscape.  Did … you carry something out?”  she tentatively asked, vision narrowing.  “Devils are quite frightening.”

A secretive smile lifted Rachel’s lips as she leaned back and crossed her legs.  “What fun would I be telling you such savory details—wouldn’t you enjoy the surprise?”

Relica leaned in, a playful smile returning.  “Oh, you know me so well—I’m jealous because it’s so challenging to tell what is going on in that speedy brain of yours, so I decided to try and recruit a smarty, too.  Although … You’ve given me the shivers since the last time we met.  Hmm…”

Luka was utterly lost as the woman sighed with disappointment.  “Mmh, but I don’t want to leave yet … You know Rachel’s ears can totally hear you right now—mhm!  She really is a troublesome opponent, and let me tell you about her team!  Oh—sorry, Rachel,” she giggled, “but it seems my brain says I need to go—of course, you know that, he-he-he!”

A short pause fell as a rumble shook the building from a thunderbolt that struck nearby.

Rachel’s ears turned to the front, easing slightly as she smirked at the woman she called a witch.  “Tell Alan Piedrabuena that I’ll return in kind … Don’t give him too much information, Relica; you wouldn’t want to make it easy on your mastermind … but before you go—who’s your friend?”

“Quite true,” Relica laughed, mischievous grin shifting to the alley.  “Miora!  Maybe you shouldn’t provoke our Rachel so early; you have plenty of toys back home.”

Luka’s heart stopped as a shadowy figure seemed to seep through the floorboards to level a regal leer at them; it materialized into a tall, dark-skinned woman dressed in a royal gown.  Her dead brown irises and thin frame highlighted her uncomfortable beauty.  “I’m bored, Relica … You promised me decent servants, yet I have not seen the quality you bragged of.  Hmm?”

Her stone-cold eyes drifted to Rachel and Vasishtha.  “I stand corrected.”

“In time, Miora!  In time!”  Relica giggled, rising to present the woman.  “Myth of the Lunar Hare, and Legend of Arjuna, meet her royal Legend, Queen Ranavalona the First.  A friend of mine from overseas has joined my little group—she was so interested in meeting Asher, but regrettably, time constraints, and well—I suspect you killed him,” she mused.

Miora’s imperious gaze slid over Rachel like a prized dog in a show.  “I look forward to her performance.  Now, entertain me, Relica—the quality of this place is dismal.”

Luka’s mouth dropped open as both vanished in shadow, and Rachel promptly rose to her feet.  “Let’s go—Vasishtha.”

“I got it,” he muttered, walking over to the bar to wink at the women and drop a healthy wad of cash.  “My apologies for the loss in business, Antonio.  Cloe, Africa, Aroa, Uxia, I look forward to drinking with you again; some business stuff!”

“Y-Yeah!”  Cloe whispered, and Luka saw each blush as he kissed them on the foreheads.

Rachel was already halfway to the door, turning to give him an expectant stare.  “I don’t think you want to stay—I do, but it would cause problems, and we need to meet with Selvaria—she’s lost in the wrong area.”

Rising to his feet, Luka saw the exotic bunny girl’s closed fist shaking as if in rage, tail, and ears stiff, yet her voice and expression were calm; it seemed like she was fighting something.  Still, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

* * *

A rumble shook through Anthony’s chest and spotted psyche as a dualism of crashing yet calm waves met his mind, blinking in and out of existence; he floated in a pool of solemn voices that flowed through him in harmonic whispers.  All thought was forfeited in the surf, and scenes of his childhood filmed to the surface while drifting through the void.

His vision cleared to reveal the front entrance of the U.K. manor he’d grown up in; it seemed enormous, and as he ran forward, it was as if he were a stranger in his own body.

Anthony’s fervent eyes flitted between entrances, nervously expecting one of the hired maids or butlers to pop out of the well-decorated walls.  The familiarity of the event was uncanny; his uncle was over—a master of the spear and the black sheep of the family—Anthony’s favorite person in the world.

Climbing up the colossal front staircase to the second landing, he squinted at the enormous window that granted a sight of the cliff and ocean; it was too bright to see beyond.

Not interested in seeing the grand view regardless, Anthony raced across the floorboards but slowed once nearing the party room so as to not cause the wood to creek; his mother didn’t like him interacting with his father’s brother, and he feared her wrath.

His heart elevated, thoughts only partially questioning the unseen surf foaming around him; he’d heard stories about his uncle from Father, and the man was a legend.

Peering through the gap in the door, Anthony eagerly waited for what he’d heard pass between his caretaker and a maid when getting ready; his uncle always performed his daily exercises in the morning.

Bright light momentarily blinded him, beaming through the open terrace doors and large windows; an assortment of mirrors strategically placed in the spacious room further enhanced the radiance and made the chic floral carpet gleam.

The scent of the apricot trees his mother loved was carried in by the moderate spring breeze, bringing the flavor of salt to his parched lips; he hadn’t even noticed the lack of water.

Expectedly, all of the room's tables and chairs had been moved to one side and covered when not in use, making space for other activities.  He’d spent some time here on various occasions, but never before had it been so magical.

In the center knelt his uncle, and Anthony’s sparkling green eyes fixated on the spear lying on the carpet beside him; the man was meditating, breathing deeply as the ocean-side estate was assaulted by the rich smell of the sea.

Saliva built in his throat as the curtains rustled and the bright, warm day elevated his body heat, yet at the same time, he was cold, and an unease tugged against Anthony’s breast.  Wait … Why am I here?

The world shrunk—or did he grow—and he stumbled back to look down at his younger self, lips pulled in while eagerly awaiting the performance that would set him on the path of the spear and forever draw a rift between him and his mother.

Anthony’s heart skipped a beat, vision falling to the wooden hallway he knew so well; the long antique carpet of his grandfather’s was meticulously maintained by the hired help, but his disjointed thoughts eventually separated from the younger version hiding by the door, leaving questions.

I’m home … No, that sound…

Stepping to the side, he took one last look at the boy he used to be before hesitantly moving away.  A tug against his ears brought him to a guest room, and swiftly opening the way, he halted at the window, fingers hesitating against the drawn curtain.

The sound of the sea echoed through him—encompassed him—yet a fear to discover the source kept his hand from pulling the curtain aside.  Chills cascading through his marrow, he had the distinct feeling to retreat with every rise and fall of the unseen surf resonating in his ears.

What is this?

Mind calming, Anthony’s apple green irises drifted to his quivering fingers against the thick fabric; a sheen of light could be seen from around the edges, but he couldn’t bring himself to peer through the gap.

Anthony slowly took a step back, gut squirming as an invisible presence crawled through the room; he could feel something infinite and vast just beyond sight, and if he listened closely, indistinguishable whispers hung on the ethereal ocean sounds.

Dry lips pulling in to bite at the dead skin, he scratched the base of his ear as it itched, followed by several other areas.  It’s all in my mind … It has to be, but … Why am I here … What was I doing?

AuthorSME

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