In Sheep's Skin

They had been warned that by 12-midnight chaos would descend upon the land. It was called "the cleanse". If everyone locked themselves indoors while the monolithic titans fought outside, they would be spared. But if and only if, the drones didn't get to them first. So far only a few had been spotted around. They were tall humanoid creatures with angular fist-sized eyes, a snakelike nose, and a scorpion-like stinger at the ends of their whip-like tails. But that warning had been delivered a little too late as mass evacuations had already taken place. At barely a few minutes before midnight, the message was being informed by word of mouth since a massive EMP surge had disabled power in the city.

As the people realized that the safest place for them to lay low was in their own homes, most circled back to the warm shelters they left behind. Those who managed to return to them travelled in groups, for if they were to survive an apocalypse, surely they would have strength in numbers.

One such group headed back to their neighbourhood with Erin as the group's reluctant leader. The police along the way urged them home frantically. The group consisted of her mother, brother and his girlfriend and several neighbours. They were well over a dozen in number. Erin's family had got separated from their patriarch during a panicked evacuation and now had no way of reaching him. The same was the instance with her boyfriend Lee Dalton and his parents. She hoped they were safe and would be reunited before long.

A mutual decision had been reached to seek shelter at the Dalton residence which was a duplex located in a state-of-the-art tower. It was both large and well stocked with food making it instantly more agreeable than any other option along the way. Lee had entrusted her with a spare key many years ago, which she always carried on her person. Due to critical circumstances, she used that knowledge to everyone's benefit. Erin hoped the idea would work out for more reasons than one, the least of them being that there hadn't been any time to come up with a backup plan. 

It was around fifteen minutes before midnight that they reached the vicinity of the tower. As they passed the tiny, abandoned studios along the way, Erin happened to spot her father sound asleep in a chair with the lights on and the door wide open. Thoroughly alarmed and riled, she slapped him awake and rebuked him for being so nonchalant with his safety. He seemed to be strangely groggy and disoriented. Was he drunk? she wondered. They had forgiven him when he had cleaned up. But if he had chosen now to indulge... A quick glance around told her that no bottle was to be found.

They were all in danger every second they were away from their shelter. So, Erin took the tough decision to get the larger group to safety, while a small number of people elected to bring up the rear with her father in tow. Her rather reluctant brother and his girlfriend were a part of that group.

Her group made it to the duplex just in time as the clock struck midnight. Erin almost walked headlong into a very surprised Lee. A brief moment of happiness washed over them as his parents proceeded to make everyone feel at home. It came as a relief to her that all of her loved ones were finally accounted for.

As if on cue the titans began fighting at the stroke of midnight. The sound was ghastly, and the carnage was massive. The group had boarded up the windows and doors, posting one member at a time to alert them of the presence of their stragglers. Every few minutes Erin's eyes darted to the door for a group that never showed up.

As she paced restlessly, she decided to strap a kitchen knife to her hip because she felt a modicum of safety through that action. By dawn, the unearthly sounds had stopped and the ground ceased trembling. They waited till midmorning before they decided to assess the damage outside.

Erin objected, volunteering to scout out alone instead. The warning had stated that in the new day, the Titans would be gone and so would the drones from the mothership. Yet she entertained the possibility of stray drones in the vicinity. 

She wanted to bring home their stragglers as half the faction were members of her family. She was worried sick about them. So despite Lee's persistent requests of accompanying her, she refused. If anything happened to her, the group would need another adept leader. She promised Lee she'd see him again and left.

Retracing her steps back to the studio she left the smaller group in, she kept darting glances over her shoulders. It was just a brief distance from their sheltered tower. She could already hear the sounds of sirens in the distance and some people around which meant that the danger had indeed passed. 

But when she reached the tiny studio, she stared in shock. Her worst fears were confirmed. Her group had been attacked. The overhead lights cast an eerie glow on the bodies of her brother and his girlfriend which were slumped motionless to one side of the wall. Their throats had jagged marks across them. Some dark blue fluid was spattered on them, the walls and the floor. A remote part of her realized it to be alien blood. Someone had got to the kitchen knives and used them to defend themselves. The knives lay on the floor within reach of the dead bodies. All five of her group were dead in the living room. Her father however, was nowhere to be seen. Shock pounded through her mind as she struggled to comprehend how this happened. They were following right behind her group. She absently caressed the handle of her knife—the action somehow gave her comfort.

"It happened so fast," said a familiar voice from behind her.

She spun around only to realise it was her father. Relief mixed with pain as she tore her eyes away from him and back to the carnage. This was his fault!

"What happened?" she asked devoid of emotion.

His breathing was laboured but she didn't seem to care anymore. 

"It came shortly after you left. Moved so swiftly. And that stinger..." Her father staggered forward and calmly stood to her left. At a glance, he seemed to have gone through hell. But her pity and love were nowhere to be found. Her brother... the pang of loss was too sharp to bear.

Drip...drip...drip...drip...drip...

The sound distracted her, momentarily pulling her out of the depths of her misery. Curious, she strained to catch the source. 

The man continued unaware of his daughter's turmoil. "They didn't stand a chance. That one..." he said, pointing, "got to the knives first."

Erin frowned. "That one"... why would he say, "that one"? He had known them for years. The thought nagged at the recesses of her mind. She remained decidedly silent as he continued.

"He stabbed at the drone. The other one," he pointed again, "he managed to hack off one of its hands. But they all died. Stinger first and then a slash to their necks."

Drip...drip...drip...drip...

Erin finally honed in on the source of the sound. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed an unnaturally dark pool of blood gather on the far side of her father. The wound seemed to be originating somewhere out of sight. As the pieces of the puzzle suddenly began falling into place, Erin grappled with a harsh reality that caused her to grip the handle of her knife harder.

"So how exactly did you manage to survive?" she asked grimly, after a moment's silence. 

A second of hesitation followed. 

Without a second thought, she pivoted to her left and stabbed the knife blindly forward. It connected with his side. Dark blood gushed over her hand as the drone masquerading as her father shrieked. His stinger whipped around and stabbed her in the back. Now fully driven by her fight or flight instinct, Erin pulled out her knife and stabbed again, this time aiming at the creature's throat. He dropped dead with an abrupt gurgle. His tail fell limply behind her, curled mid-strike.

Erin's knees buckled below her as searing pain mounted from the point of the wound and crashed across her body. Every nerve fibre felt like it was alive. She wanted to scream but couldn't, instead slumping to the ground paralysed. Poison coursed through her veins.

Some time later medics arrived and swept her inert body away on a gurney. 

Kill me! She tried to scream as she felt a parasitic consciousness begin to stir and push against her mind. Kill me! She tried again. But no one heard her through her paralysis. Her words died in her mouth. 

No one would know what she now did. The creature she had killed was indeed her father and not a drone impersonating him. The inevitability of her own circumstances burned through her skull.

Bind my limbs, she begged in vain. She did not want to kill them. Nausea washed over her as she fought the awakening bloodlust. She swallowed hard as she felt a tail begin to push through her spine. Drowsiness began pulling at her eyes. She knew she was reaching the point of no return.

Lee smiled relieved and hopeful as he saw her alive in the gurney. 

No, she tried shaking her head. Not like this!

He climbed into the back of the ambulance, holding her hand as the doors swung shut and the engine roared to life.

*****************X*****************

Dreams

A wish, a song or a sense

A swift desire, strong and intense

A dream is a thought or a deed

A unique wonder that grows from a seed

Subconscious yet sublime

Senseless yet divine

Tis a stream of dubious content, 

Disturbing darkness or malicious intent

Dreams make us wonder what we've seen, 

What we've heard, or what they mean 

An upheaving quagmire of lies

Of faceless people and wordless cries

Confusing or wistful

Bitter or bashful

Our deepest desires and darkest fears

They wake us up closer to tears

They persist and insist

Until notice we take

Looking back in the end, 

Some sense we might make

Dream big, say the braves,

Dream not, say the fools

Yet dreams are forever

Those are the rules

-x-

Tainted

The Arelian Bay was beautiful. Clear turquoise waters greeted the eyes. A cool wind blew across the inlet ruffling its briny swells, as shoals of colorful fish swam in droves below the surface. Vivid corals blazed bright below the boat, as a family of three rowed across to the shore. Even as the breeze tousled their hair and clothes they stared blankly ahead unseeing, as the lush greenery of the island drew closer. In the distance stood three majestic mountains, their tall peaks obscured by thick clouds.

Aegnar, his middle-aged wife Silina, and their teenage son Roan rowed in silence, their brows heavy with thought. This trip was to be their final straw. Silina was pregnant with twins. But with her advanced age, she ran a high risk of losing both their babies or her own life in the process. They had heard of the great hermit of the north where a woman locally known as "The Queen" resided. Some people called her an angel of divine beauty. Some called her a messiah. But in truth, no one was ever known to have laid eyes on her. All those who entered her chamber were blindfolded and sworn to secrecy. People flocked to her when they hit roadblocks in their lives, or when they were desperate. Her worshippers would wait days encamped in a line stretching from the ground, coiling up to the hidden cave in the mountain. They waited patiently because they believed that she had the answers to their all ailments and woes. They believed her to be an immortal, as generations of her devout followers visited her year after year. There was only one way from the front, and one way out the back of the cave (that they knew of). No one else resided on the tropical island. It was considered a pilgrims destination—a place of peace and tranquility, an homage to The Queen.

At that very moment unknown to them, the woman they touted as their queen found herself alone in her cave, staring into a stone basin of clear water. She critically scanned her reflection. Large brown eyes stared balefully back at her as her lips twitched in what could have been the beginning of a beautiful smile. The planes of her face were fair, smooth, and unlined, belying the truth of centuries gone by. Dark, glossy hair cascaded over her shoulders and hung past her hips. A modest corseted top covered her torso, while a simple peasant's skirt skimmed the floor. A dark shawl hung off one bare shoulder, at times trailing the floor behind her. Her clothes were as devoid of prints and embellishments as were her simple dwellings. In truth, she had amassed wealth in the form of donations willingly offered by her followers. Never once did she ever ask for anything in return, for her help. Everything she did, she did willingly. As she didn't need riches, she gave them to those in need.

Dropping her shawl to the floor, she dipped her hands into the water as she washed her face and refreshed herself. Her eyes slid to her wrists as she absently caressed her old attempts at taking her own life. How much she had tried... Drowning, walking in the path of oncoming traffic or a train, slitting her wrists repeatedly, stabbing, jumping off heights... The list was endless. She was either revived or saved somehow. Her immortality had become her cross to bear. She considered every breath she took borrowed time. Cupping another handful of water she slowly brought her face to her palms, triggering vivid memories as she did so.

Many years ago a young man had entered her life. He was tall, had a pale face that was chiseled to perfection, thick eyebrows, sunken eyes, and a disarming dimpled smile. Yet there was something in his sublime appearance and bearing which seemed a little off to her. Unable to put a finger on it she pushed the feeling aside and found she quite enjoyed his company. In no time his calm, charming demeanor had won her over and they began courting. Shortly after, strange things began happening around her. Her senses began sharpening and she would pick up the rustle of leaves or the moan of the wind that seemed to be telling her to leave him. Laughing off the absurdity initially, she got her first real jolt when a homeless woman appeared out of nowhere and gripping her arm whispered tersely, "leave him". Unsettled, she proceeded home alone quietly mulling things over. If she had her doubts at that time she shared it with none.

She finally decided to take some time away to analyze her relationship and once more faced that disconcerting feeling she had suppressed months before. Realizing it would be prudent to call off her romance, she returned home and faced him with a heavy heart. Nothing could have ever prepared her for his response. He was gracious at first, which threw her off guard since she had expected some resistance. And then the other shoe dropped. He told her that although dejected he would step out of her way, but he would never leave her side. Angry she questioned him, only to be told that he had waited millennia for her and was not ever going to give her up. Ordinarily, she would have considered him crazy and walked away but his conviction was intriguing. A sense of foreboding filled the pit of her stomach as he further told her that he would ensure she would never age or die.

Dismissing him she walked out his door, promising herself that she would forget all about him and move on with life. Unfortunately, such was not the case. When year after year passed by leaving her untouched by the ravages of time she began to dread her fate. His words by now seemed more prophetic than empty. As life took its toll and her loved ones began to fade away, suspicions of her youth and longevity grew around her, drawing unnecessary attention. With no other option, she dropped off the grid and began changing aliases with the passing of time. Spiraling into depression, she tried to terminate her life repeatedly with no success, for he always saved her. In her desperation, she even tried to take his life to end her misery. But he wasn't of her world and so nothing she did could ever harm him.

"Let's up the stakes, shall we?" he had said calmly, a bitter smile twisting his handsome face. "For every attempt on my life or yours, I will add another hundred years of life... for each transgression." He knew he would have done it either way.

"Why me?" she had cried.

"Because we're meant to be, my Queen. Surrender your soul to me, rule by my side and you shall have a companion for as long as you shall live."

"Never!" she had retorted defiantly. Although the scars remained, she had begrudgingly ceased her futile attempts. When she stopped wallowing in self-pity she discovered that she could heal rapidly not just herself, but others as well. Whether a gift from her benefactor or a side-effect of her longevity, she took what she got and turned her life around. In her travels whenever she came across the poor and downtrodden in need of aid, she would guide and help them, expecting nothing in return. She became a phantom of hope, disappearing from one place and reappearing in another with no trace of her previous whereabouts. Decades bled into centuries, until one day she came across the Isle of Arelia. It was beautiful, uninhabited, and secluded. She had everything she needed to survive so there she built herself a meager hermitage, shunning the world around her. Finally alone, she prayed and meditated trying to divine a solution to her problem. Although she didn't find a solution, she did find her silver lining. Despite her troubles, she found herself helping those who strayed onto the isle. Although those who could recognize her had long since passed, word had still traveled about a benevolent monk living in the peaks of Arelia who could perform miracles. And so the poor and desperate flocked to her, begging for mercies. Though lonely and in pain, she had found her purpose.

While the world changed outside she stayed hidden inside, trying to divine meaning in her immortality.  A lone tear slid down her wet skin and dripped off her face.

"Not getting emotional, are we?" said a smooth male voice from behind her. She did not need to turn around to know who it was. Her visitor was tall, had a pale face that was chiseled to perfection, thick eyebrows, sunken eyes, and a disarming dimpled smile. He wore robes of black that matched his slicked-back hair.

She bid her time, using a towel to dry off her face and arms. The King of the Underworld grinned knowingly and reached out a finger trailing it on her bare shoulder. Nadine stiffened at the action, goosebumps racing across her arm. "I will never tire of seeing the effect I have on you. It's been a while, my Queen," he muttered intimately as he stooped to kiss her shoulder. The title riled her to no end. She shared no bond with him. Not one of love, trust, or companionship. In fact, she hated him but had realized a long time ago that anger got her nowhere.

Smoothly stepping away from him, she purposefully arranged her towel on a peg and turned to face him. "What do you want, Levi?" She used his old name which to her was far less intimidating.

"You know what I want."

"Yes, something that you can never have," she responded coolly. "It must annoy you to no end, knowing that." She loved taunting him and hoped that one day he would retaliate and end her torment.

He smiled beautifully. "I have always enjoyed our repartees," he responded nonchalantly. "Why do you stay? You can have as many playthings as you want where we're going."

"These people are not playthings!" she retorted scathingly. "They're human, like me."

"Human?" His smile got wider, more wolfish. "Is that what you really think you are?" He clicked his tongue deprecatingly. "Rather naive, don't you think? Which human in your extensive memory has lived as long as you?"

Nadine reacted as if slapped. "I will always be human as long as I have some humanity in me. And you... You will always suffer knowing you will never have me. Must get really lonely where you're from," she added spitefully.

He appeared before her in a split second. While one hand gripped her jaw, the other arm trapped her in a rough embrace. His obsidian eyes flashed dangerously. "Careful!" he crooned softly. "I could obliterate everyone on this island, save you, with a snap of my fingers. I could even take away the powers you so proudly use for others. Never forget how you got it and never forget the pit you will dig yourself into if it leaves." He released her, resuming his smooth countenance.

"I have waited millennia for you, my love." His low voice resonated with sincerity. "What's another one or two more? I am patient. I will wait." So saying he dissipated, leaving a shuddering woman in his wake.

For a moment nothing aside from Nadine's slow, practiced breaths filled the silence of the chamber. She smiled as she dragged in her last calming breath. Patient? She thought indignantly, we'll see about that!

Dusting her shawl off the floor, she draped it over her head and both shoulders in preparation for her visitors. They would be blindfolded, but she still would take no chances. Every now and then she ventured alone into the village nearby, where no one ever recognized her. It was her solace.

Rising, she walked towards a shelf on which stood a small silver bell. It emitted a delicate chime when rung.

"Yes, my Queen," said a volunteer appearing around the corner.

"Send in the next one please," she replied calmly, ignoring the title. She took a deep breath as she stared out her window. Whether tainted or not, she had gifts which she could use for good. That defiance in itself put a smile back on her face.

She turned just as her attendant entered with three people in tow. "Presenting Aegnar, his wife Silina, and son Roan."

Nadine smiled again, genuinely pleased this time. "Please be seated and tell me what I can do for you today."

                                             *****************X*****************

The Inescapable Dreamscape

The woman looked about herself in awe of her surroundings. She stood in the middle of a vast hall, its floor a confusion of checkered tiles. Her feet were bare and her shoulders were cloaked in a gown of the purest white silk, with a delicate overlay of gossamer. The pale fabric trailed far behind her as she moved, looking like the ethereal wake of a wave lacking all substance. She paused before the tall, lone mirror in the lobby but failed to recognize the person staring back at her, so she walked on in silence. There was a serenity to her beauty. But the closer you looked, the starker were her imperfections. Her cheeks were high but gaunt, eyes blue but sunken and her alabaster skin was marbled with delicate hairline cracks of black. Pale, blonde hair hung flat and long from her scalp.

She stood before a massive spiraling staircase that branched out interminably into a series of floors at regular intervals. It beckoned her. So she climbed them, letting them guide her to a predestined path. Along she went further and further up feeling no desire of stopping until she neared the fifth floor. It had begun snowing softly, but she felt neither the gust of wind nor the bite of cold. The white powder did not make it beyond the first few stairs of that level. She stepped onto the landing, her gown trailing behind her like a cascading stream and paused to look back over her shoulder. She noticed the polished, checkered floor had begun taking on the pattern of a concentric circle. It was mesmerizing to look at. She smiled knowingly, the scene before her somehow making absolute sense. 

She continued to walk around the fifth floor until she reached a door with mistletoe on it. Without thinking twice, she pushed it open to stand in what was a cozy living room. A plush gray and cream carpet was sprawled on the floor, while a huge couch, two cushioned chairs and a large, lit-up Christmas tree seemed to fill out the rest of the space. A soft yellow glow permeated the room from the crackling fireplace. A couple stood hunched in their dressing robes, adding the finishing touches to a large decorated box, one of two presents under the tree. They couldn't see their newest guest who hovered undetected in a corner behind them. As the clock struck twelve, they heard an excited giggle coming from upstairs.

"We know you guys are up. So why don't you two stop pretending and come open your presents?" called out the mother chuckling.

A squeal greeted their ears as footsteps pounded down the stairs.

"You think they know?" whispered the mother to her husband.

"Unlikely, considering where we packed it," replied the father smiling broadly.

"Hope the little fella is alright."

"Shh, here they come!"

Nine-year-old Cassey, the first to reach the landing flung herself into her mother's waiting arms. Her vivid, auburn hair bounced in a wild tangle. "Wotcha get us?" she asked beaming.

"Patience!" the mother chided her gently.

"Yea, wotcha get us? Wotcha get us? Wotcha get us?" echoed a flaxen-haired bundle of energy as she hurtled down the stairs and flung herself onto her father's leg. She was all of five years with four missing teeth. Her smile stretched from ear to ear. 

The father laughed, tousling her hair fondly and after a subtle nod from his wife said, "Why don't you find out for yourself, bug?"

"Be very gentle," warned the mother.

They went on to open the two boxes beside each other, simultaneously. Cassey opened the smaller container filled with animal toys and other paraphernalia. Her little sister Kena on the other hand, lifted the lid to uncover a six-month-old hound who had the happiest disposition she had ever seen. It licked her nose as she scooped it up.

Suddenly the blonde observer felt a persistent tug at her waist. Although the scene had filled her with the kind of warmth she hadn't felt in a long while, she realized it was time to leave. She cast one last glance over her shoulder as if searing the image in her mind and left.

Taking the stairs again, she climbed up two levels. The floor had turned into a carpet of the softest grass. A haunting melody played as she walked down the corridor and felt a pull towards one door in particular. Opening it she found the sisters walking their large dog in a park. As they strolled, seven-year-old Kena began throwing a fit as Cassey wouldn't let her walk him. Finally relenting, Cassey handed over the leash. It didn't take very long for their energetic pet to get distracted and run after a nearby squirrel, pulling Kena along with him. She underwent five stitches that day.

The blonde woman returned to the stairs, ascending them again. But as she neared the twelfth level it began to rain ash. It fell on her hair and clothes, littering the pristine staircase. Shades of white turned grey and then completely black. A grim foreboding settled in her heart, yet she could not stop or turn away. She felt compelled to continue onward. She dragged her hand along the pale banister, the wooden texture almost coarse to her soft fingers. Her bare feet left footprints in the soot which were soon disrupted by the dragging fabric of her gown. There was pain here... but also familiarity. Try as she might though, she couldn't remember anything. Any sparks of memory she tried to grasp immediately dissipated like the dying embers of a flame.

Why was she here?

Her instincts brought her to a blackened door. All the doors thereafter were just as dark. It was as if it bore the scars of a great fire that gutted almost the entire length of the floor. A part of her did not want to go in and bear witness to anything so damaging again. But she turned the knob anyway.

She stood in a familiar bedroom. It was cozy and was filled with an assortment of white furniture. The walls were a pristine white as well, while the entire length of one long wall was painted a swirl of stunning blues, soft pinks and pale creams. Standing before that picture wall was a beautiful, ornate, white dresser with an assortment of barely-used makeup products and nail paints. It was a room any sixteen-year-old girl would be proud of.

The blonde woman quietly stood on one side as she watched Cassey get ready for school. Her long, bouncy auburn locks alone would have been the envy of many. Yet she did not waste much time admiring herself. Dressing quickly in a pair of jeans and a green t-shirt, she darted out the door in record time.

The blonde woman remained standing in the room, beside a wardrobe that faced the bed. Realizing she could not move she spent her time glancing at a wall clock, watching as the hands whirled by. Morning turned to the afternoon as the sun began dipping beyond the window.

Sometime later she heard light steps skipping along the corridor as a child cautiously poked her blonde head around the door. Seeing that her elder sister had not yet returned she skipped happily into the room, making a beeline directly to the contents of the dresser before sneaking into Cassey's closet. She wanted to see her sister's startled expression when she jumped out and scared her. The joke never seemed to get old.

The minutes whirled by, the day turned to dusk and the parents still didn't return. Suddenly there was the sound of someone opening the door and in walked Cassey. After a quick shower, she collapsed into bed eager to take a nap before her parents got home and got dinner ready. The lights went out and the room got dark. Finding the closet all too cozy, little Kena had dozed off. As night swept across the city the shadows pulled and stretched across the walls, a new shadow came to life. It took on a bolder form and crept towards the sleeping form of the teenager. Kena roused from her sleep around the same time, about to open the door wide and jump onto her unsuspecting sister to startle her, when she saw the darkness move. She froze mid-stride, initially unsure of what to make of it. It was as dark as pitch from head to toe and moved silently. She wanted to warn her sister. She wanted to call out, but all she could do was stare in fear. 

The pale woman herself could only gape as the twisted scene unraveled. She was powerless to do anything about it. Powerless to move or speak. She just stood there, glued to one spot as the horror unfolded before her eyes. 

The shadow loomed menacingly over Cassey before it pulled out a concealed switchblade. It covered her mouth with a rag as it used the blade to rip her clothes open with terrifying speed and dexterity.

A large shadow materialized behind the pale woman as she watched in horror as the defilement progressed, the little girl still concealed within the wardrobe. She had seen this scene play out a thousand times but could never look away.

"Watch," it whispered in her ear. "Remember," it purred. It smelt rancid, yet she could not move.

She tried to defy it, her lips trembling with the strain, but try as she may she could not look away. She relived that moment again and again like a broken record. 

The shadow withdrew from Cassey and disappeared into the night. She lay in bed as broken whimpers escaped her gag. Despite her limbs being unbound, she neither removed it nor did she call for help. After a while even her sobs stilled. 

"What ever will you do?" teased the putrifying shadow near the blonde woman, fully knowing the answer. She did exactly what she had done at the time of the event. Nothing. There was absolutely nothing she could do to undo her haunting past.

When their parents returned later that night Cassey quietly rose from the bed and walked barefoot to her window, the ragged remnants of her clothes trailing after her. All she felt was pain. A million fragmented thoughts converged simultaneously in her muddled head. As the garage door closed after them, she jumped.

The blonde woman's hands flew to cover her mouth, as a wordless cry escaped her lips. The room began to spin wildly out of control, as little by little the familiar confines of a space she once called home blinked out of existence. Large shadows began melding together to form something more dark and terrifying than mere words could describe. Startled into action by the inky apparition she ran with unrestrained fear, her heart in her mouth. 

Her steps thudded along the long corridor as she made for the stairs. She wanted to be silent, but could not control her panic. Her breaths came in hard gasps as her heart hammered against her rib cage. They had taken Cassey away. Now, they were after her. They were coming to get her. She could hear their voices over the thudding of her feet. But as she ran she heard the unmistakable sound of snarling, barking mongrels. She managed a glance behind to confirm her fears.  She also glimpsed some of them running up the stairs before she could reach them, effectively negating that option. She spun on her heel and dashed up the staircase instead, hoping to reach a landing and lock herself behind one of the doors. But the higher she got, the more they multiplied. They appeared and converged on every landing she reached cutting off every possible route of escape, save one. 

She finally reached the uppermost staircase—the twenty-sixth floor. The floor was not fully developed and in place of another staircase, the landing jutted outward like an overhang dangerously overlooking the center of the floor which lay twenty-seven storeys below. The floor she was on looked like someone got the blueprint of the structure right, but forgot to add in the details. There were no doors to escape from. The pale domed roof extended far above. She skidded to a halt on the incomplete landing, spinning around frantically as she drank in her doomed circumstances. Her breath came to her in large gulps. The massive beasts finally caught up with her and herded her, cutting off all exits. She backed away towards the lip of the overhang and watched as the animals stalked ever closer to her. They viciously barked and snarled, drool escaping from their loose jowls. Intelligence shone in their eyes as they delayed her execution, somehow seeming to relish the fear emanating from her. She had a small choice. The end was inevitable, but the method was up to her. She smiled. It was a deranged look so broken and twisted that the creatures gave pause in confusion. Then they began melting and melding together to create the hulking apparition she had faced before. She did not wait any further. With her heels already hanging over the edge, she tipped over.

For a moment the woman felt weightless as the ceiling grew tinier until she flipped over midway to find the checkered floor rushing up to meet her. The concentric placement of the tiles spun dizzyingly. She tried to scream as she was about to impact the floor, but her voice barely reached a horse gurgle. She squeezed her eyes shut as she collided.

Kenna awoke with a start as her hoarse cry suddenly stilled. She hyperventilated as she tried to come to grips with her padded room, the white overhead lights and her straitjacket. The twenty-six-year-old had a rare moment of lucidity before her mind dissolved into chaos again. That dream would revisit her as she slept later that night, the next and the ones after. Over and over... Sometimes different memories played out before the nightmare began, but the ending never changed. 

Back in the year that her sister died, the coroner had filed a report stating the cause of Casey's death as a cervical fracture. In reality, that wasn't the only death that occurred on that damning night. Two young girls ceased to live in the Whitley household. For little Kenna, that happened long before that fateful fall. The twelve-year-old never did come out of her closet or utter a word ever after.

*****************X*****************

The Heist

It was a warm Spring morning. The sun shone brightly as children ran circles around their frantic and frustrated parents. The flowers were in full bloom and the air was fragrant.

Blythe breathed it all in but couldn't stop her knees from bouncing like a pneumatic drill. She balled her hands into fists and exhaled once more through her mouth as she looked out her window, the bus winding its way to her destination. She was beyond excited and terribly anxious. Today would mark her first day of work, ever! She felt like a caffeinated hamster on a wheel. Fresh out of grad-school she couldn't wait to throw herself into the world of adults. She had always been a very hard working child, with a clear, level head on her shoulders. 

She was short for her age. Dark curly hair framed her caramel skin and large brown eyes. Never one to bother with fashion trends, she dressed her slightly chubby frame in a simple black and beige combination with sensible shoes. She would serve as a receptionist at the prestigious Bank du Nord.

When Blythe walked through the massive glass doors a little gasp escaped, her senses going into overdrive as she took in the sights and sounds of her new firm. This was a benchmark in her life. She savoured the moment as she sailed through orientation. Before beginning, she did a few cursory checks on her system. Her console was a curious amalgamation of buttons, lights, texts and sockets. She found it intimidating to say the very least. "Right! Easy as! I can do this! It's easy! It's easy..." she repeated with a confidence she suddenly no longer felt.

On the other side of town, a young man sat languidly at his coffee table, sipping his favoured brew. He took in his surroundings disinterestedly. Glancing at his watch, he rubbed his face absently. He had over an hour before he needed to report to work. Another hour to kill before routine tasks warranted his attention.

He had very arresting features. His pale visage held an angular jaw and very high cheekbones. His dazzling, dimpled grin often belied the calculating coldness in his striking blue eyes. Standing far taller than average, he had a sinewy build which gave him a very lanky appearance. He kept his dirty-blonde hair overgrown and tucked behind his ears, his nails trimmed and clean. By most standards, he was immaculate. Growing up he came to realize that he could be uncannily persuasive. There was a certain power to his words, especially when he willed it.

He absently tugged at his right ear lobe which was pierced by a stud. It was a subconscious tick which had manifested itself since childhood. Due to his blonde locks, good looks and feminine, movie star family name he was often picked on as a child. The one thing he hated the most above everything else was the nickname "blondie". Only his elder brother was able to get away with teasing him.

He looked up to his older sibling in ways not many could. He was like a father-figure to him. With a calm and mature disposition, he exerted a lot of control over the little boy who grew up in his shadow. Unlike his younger sibling though, he was of average height, muscular, with a swarthy complexion, a patch of grey hair running down the middle of his head and a largely forgettable face. Only one feature stood out from his otherwise plain visage, his arresting eyes. Large, round and piercing green, they glowed with an eerie luminescence.

The young man absently twirled his phone on the table while waiting for it to ring, his chin resting on his other hand, eyes staring at nothing in particular. He growled as his palm slid over his face yet again. This was going to be a terribly long day.

The cafe was meant to be a meeting point. But he was bored. Never one to follow orders, he stood up ready to leave with absolutely no intention of settling his bill.

"Hey, hey!!" One of the waiters called after him. "You haven't paid your bill, Sir."

"Bill?" Asked the stranger innocently. "What bill?"

"Your food bill, Sir," said the waiter catching up to him.

"Ah," replied the man. "I assure you there must be some confusion." He looked at the waiter intently, willing him to believe his words.

"But--"

"--It's already been paid for..."

There was a pause.

Ah, yes, sorry about that!" stammered the waiter suddenly. "Apologies for the inconvenience."

"No offense taken," said the man, flashing a dazzling smile at the confused man and sauntered off.

Two hours into her shift found Blythe absently twirling her pen in her hand. This was turning out to be very dull. A little excitement wouldn't harm anybody, she thought.

Just then a young man in a fitted grey suit strode towards the bank's entrance. He looked like a runway model with his overgrown dirty-blonde hair tucked behind his ears, piercing blue eyes and a roguish smile. The sunlight caught and sparkled off his pierced ear. Blythe forgot how to breathe. 

How about a million bucks? She thought absently.

He jauntily strode up the stairs with an affable grin in place and a briefcase in one hand. He whispered something to the two armed guards standing outside, who immediately followed behind him, stationing themselves inside instead. Resting his forearm on the counter, the visitor leaned in close. 

"Hi," he said. "I'm Monroe and am here to make a withdrawal." Without batting an eye, he drew out a handgun, turned around and shot the guards.

Blythe gasped sharply as three more people strode in, armed to the teeth. There wore black plastic masks. The large shutter at the door was pulled down roughly, casting a heavy gloom in the surroundings.

The young woman's heart dropped as the metal clanged upon the floor. "No, no, no, no, no!" she muttered in denial, cursing her luck.

Monroe turned back to her, his eyes suddenly transitioned to silver. "Relax sweetheart," he cooed. "This will be over before you know it."

She wanted to object, but couldn't find the words. Her grandmother once said something about silver tongues, she thought remotely. There was just something about him. He was so persuasive he strummed at her subconscious. Despite her mind dredging up questions she stayed quiet, her body obeying his instructions.

Then he looked away, turning those strange silver eyes to the rest of the crowd as his buddies fanned out. "Everybody, I'd like to have your attention," he said, his eyes panning the startled crowd. "This is a stick-up. Gather to that side," he indicated. "Sit on the ground and stay quiet. We'll be done before you know it." Blythe shook off the spell with a shaky breath as his focus was on the group and no longer on her. She slipped away to one corner and sat cowering, making her frame look as tiny and inconsequential as possible.

"The police will have you for this!" Quipped one of the hostages.

Monroe's silver eyes flickered as he scowled, choosing to ignore the empty threat. There were always those who weren't as susceptible to his powers. He would deal with him later. "Where's Rex?"

As if in response, a feral growl tore through the silence. Bank du Nord was a large structure with an imposing atrium running through its center. Its two floors circumferenced the lobby. Perched on the banister of the first floor was a powerfully built man, dressed in black. He pushed himself off the ledge as he heard his name, morphing into a massive black cat before he gracefully hit the ground on all fours. 

Blythe made a shocked, gagging sound as her heart skipped a few beats. She clamped her hands over her mouth, tears streaming down her face. What she witnessed defied the laws of physics. Was she imagining things?

The large cat turned and paused mid-stride, one of its paws off the ground as its large head angled towards Monroe.

"What do you mean?" snapped Monroe. "I don't need one... They won't remember a thing once their systems and minds are wiped," he said of the masks.

The beast just shook its big head in what seemed like disbelief and started pacing. It had massive paws, a sleek and powerful frame, piercing green eyes and one jagged silver stripe running the entire length of his body from nose to tail. He prowled the floor restlessly, his anxious, throaty growls more adept at controlling the crowds than their weapons. The tip of his tail twitched as it swished behind him, a powerful appendage that helped control his speed and balance. He was in equal parts mesmerizing and unnerving to watch.

Their plan proceeded like clockwork. But they hit a glitch. Someone had managed to hit the panic button. 

The phone rang. Negotiators were on the scene. 

"Raven, up top. We need to know what we're dealing with," said Monroe absently tugging at his ear, as the cogs in his mind whirled rapidly. He needed a little guinea pig to do his bidding.

The man called Raven nodded as his back erupted violently, massive black wings unfurled and flapped, levitating him to the first floor. Blythe squealed. She was terrified. Everything she was witnessing defied any known realm of logic.

Monroe turned around at the sound almost having forgotten about the tiny woman in the far corner, away from the rest of the crowd. He smiled menacingly. "You, beautiful! What's your name again?"

The phone rang once more. 

Blythe avoided eye contact with the tall man so he purposefully strode towards her and yanked her off the ground even as she squealed in protest. "What are you people?" she cried out in fear as she struggled to tug her hands free. "What are you?" She searched his now blue eyes for answers. 

"We are other!" he said with meaning. "Now, I want you to do as I say..." The colour from his eyes bled out as he spoke.

This day just got a lot more complicated.

*****************X*****************