Juno's Been Had

Juno's Been Had

Part I

Andrew was really sick of eighties music. That was all they played, day in and day out, in Vision Quest, the last video rental store in the city. His boss said that it “added to the atmosphere,” but Andrew was pretty sure that it was simply the most plain and inoffensive choice possible. Sometimes he fantasized about plugging his phone in to the stereo system in the back and blasting some Rammstein or something, just to see what the reaction would be.

He had a lot of time for fantasies like that, as besides the entire population of retirees over the age of seventy, not many people ventured into the somewhat florescent interior of his place of business. After all, what use were video rentals in the year of our lord and savior 2017?

Which was why Andrew found himself surprised when the jingle bells over the door—the ones that still hadn’t been taken down four months late—rang out mournfully and he caught sight of a young, well-dressed woman standing on the threshold. She looked a little out of place—obviously—and by her general demeanor she seemed to agree with this assessment. She looked a bit lost as she stood in the door in her pressed skirt and blouse.

Andrew slid his feet off the counter and shoved the catalog he’d been occupying himself with into a drawer. “Uh, can I help you?” he asked.

She looked over and finally noticed him. Such was the fate of the lowly retail worker, he supposed. Relief spreading across her face, she approached the counter, her heels thumping against the space-patterned carpet. But as she did so, Andrew felt goose-bumps rising on his shin. Because as she came closer, recognition started pinging rapidly around his skull. He knew her. At least, he was pretty sure he did. It had been ten years, maybe more, but he knew that way she raised one eyebrow and pursed her lips when she was confused. She’d let the bleach blonde hair fade back to brown, but it was definitely her.

Alex Cross.

Luckily, it didn’t seem like she recognized him. The last time they’d seen each other his voice hadn’t dropped yet. He wasn’t sure he wanted her to recognize him. Because Alex looked good. Healthy, thriving. She looked like she’d made it.

Andrew hadn’t. He supposed it could be worse. He’d gotten out of that fucking trailer, even if it hadn’t been under the greatest of circumstances. But here he was: twenty-three years old, living in a shithole and working at the last video rental store in the city. He was a loser. She was not. Just like it had been back then, like nothing had changed at all. It felt like the label would become permanent if he told her, the only person who had ever known his damage.

He rubbed his palm subconsciously, feeling the ridges of the scar there. It was definitely a good thing she hadn’t recognized him.

“Actually, I’m looking for someone,” she said, reaching for something in her pocket.

Oh no. It was him. It had to be, right? He had no idea how she’d tracked him down, Andrew left very little trace of himself on purpose. He was just about to open his mouth to tell her that she didn’t need to look for Andrew Zeng, because he was, in fact, right in front of her, when she pulled out a piece of paper and showed him.

It was a print-out of what looked like a mugshot. The man in the photo, well… it was his boss. “Andrei Kreminsky,” she said.

“What do you need him for?” It was a simple enough question, but for him the emphasis was on the ‘you’ instead of the ‘him.’

She sighed, and pulled out a badge. “Alex Cross,” she introduced herself. “FBI. He’s wanted for questioning.”

Well, that was the confirmation he’d been looking for, but she was… FBI? How in the world had that happened? She must have noticed his confusion, because she looked at his face properly for the first time, and paused. “Do I… know you?” she asked.

He really should lie. She should just turn around, walk right out of here, and out of his life. It would be for the best. But that scar on his palm started itching. “I… well…” he waffled.

“No way,” her professional demeanor melted away as recognition spread across her features. “Andrew?” she asked. “Andrew Zeng?”

Well, he was really in it now. “Are you…?”

“It was a long time ago…” she almost looked a little disappointed.

But he remembered. Of course he did. There was no way he could possibly forget. “The lake, right?” he said. “I think we were about thirteen.”

“You do remember!” she beamed. “What are the odds?”

“Minuscule,” he found her smile a little infectious despite himself. “So you’re… FBI?”

“It’s a long story,” she groaned. “I’m mostly getting sent out on petty errands at the moment. Kreminsky is your boss, right? All I’m here to do is ask him some questions about some mob connections he hasn’t had for twenty years.”

“Oh, well he’s out all day. Won’t be back until uh… tomorrow, I think. I can give you his phone number…”

“No need,” she waved it off. “I don’t wanna freak him out. When do you get off? Cuz that leaves the rest of my day free. We could always get some coffee or something?”

God he wanted to say no. But it was Alex. She was here. This woman didn’t know it, but she’d been the catalyst for change in his life a decade ago. Maybe she could be again. Plus he just… really wanted to talk to her.

Andrew glanced over at the clock. “Uh, about forty minutes. But there’s a… pretty nice cafe right down the street.” Conveniently dodging the fact that he didn’t have a car. “Sorry for the wait.”

Despite the inconvenience, she agreed, and headed back outside to make a quick call. Meanwhile, Andrew grabbed his catalog, but he didn’t really register anything it said. It was going to be a long forty minutes.

~~ o ~~

They didn’t say a whole ton as they walked down the block towards the cafe. He didn’t know about her, but Andrew found himself at a pretty firm loss for words. A couple of hours ago it had been a normal, shitty morning, just like any other, and now he was walking alongside someone he never thought he’d see ever again.

The inside of the cafe was a little dim, and Andrew and Alex quietly slipped into a booth near the back. The backs of the benches were so tall that they were effectively isolated from the rest of the room.

For a second, neither of them said anything, just got a proper look at the other.

“Sorry,” Alex said finally. “It’s just… that summer almost felt like something I’d made up, but… here you are. Andrew Zeng, in the flesh.”

“I… uh, I feel the same way,” Andrew chuckled awkwardly. “There’s, uh, a lot of things I wanna ask. I have no idea where to start.”

“Ditto,” she laughed, running a finger along the wood grain of the table.

“I guess…” he stuttered as she didn’t make to continue. “What have you been doing for the last decade? FBI? How did that happen?”

Alex sighed, like she expected that one. “You’d be surprised. Life is so goddamn weird.”

She didn’t know the half of it.

“It involves you, oddly enough,” she admitted. “Like I said, that whole summer never really felt… real, I guess. I don’t even really remember what happened that day… out on the lake.” She didn’t specify, but she didn’t need to. “but it kept bugging me, for years, if what I thought I remembered had really, you know, happened?”

“I know what you mean,” he lied.

“So, one summer—I think I was seventeen—I told my parents I was going on a road trip with some friends and I headed back down to the lake. I thought I’d meet up with you and see if our stories matched up…”

He glanced downwards. “But I wasn’t there…”

“Not only that, nobody would even talk about you. They’d clam up as soon as I mentioned your name. I was getting a little worried you were dead or something.”

Andrew wished.

“Finally someone directed me to the library, and I had to go through their old microfilm archives, felt like I was on an episode of the X-Files or something.”

Sighing, Andrew shook his head. “I don’t think a single person in that town has heard of a computer.” He glanced over at her, and realized that she was struggling to continue. “So, you found out about my dad, right?”

“Yeah…” she mumbled. “I… I know that it might’ve been a relief more than anything, but… I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright,” Andrew looked away.

“I don’t know if it was the greatest idea you’ve ever had, but I can see why you got out of there. Random break-ins are scary.”

“It was a little rough,” he admitted. “But I figured it out eventually.” Alex looked like she wanted him to elaborate, so he asked her a question instead. “What did you do then?”

“Well,” she frowned, but continued, “you were gone, so that was a dead end. So I did some more research on my own. I asked around, I spent hours with that stupid microfilm. I didn’t really learn all that much, but the whole process made me realize something: I was having fun. I’d never really even been into mystery novels or anything like that before.

“I went home empty-handed, but for months I kept thinking about it. Eventually I finally told my parents that I was going to get a criminal law degree after I graduated and join the FBI, and they nearly disowned me. I still haven’t spoken to my dad in years. He’d much rather I use that degree to become a lawyer.”

“But it was what you wanted to do, right?”

“Oh, of course. Haven’t regretted it for a second.”

“I think I might be a little jealous,” he admitted. “Knowing exactly what you want to be doing with you life. It must be nice.”

She smiled a little bitterly. “Sure, but then the problem is achieving it. Sometimes I think it might be easier to just not have any goals at all. But,” she shook herself. “We’ve spent this whole time talking about me. And I am not repeating that again. Where have you been? What have you been doing all this time?”

Shit.

“Uh…” he started lamely. “It’s not really that interesting.”

She just stared at him, waiting.

“Well, I’ve just been… drifting around mostly, working whatever job comes my way. I got here… maybe a year ago, I guess.”

“Must’ve been rough.”

“Well, when you come from shit, anything’s an improvement.”

“Yeah,” she looked thoughtful. “Can I… ask you a question?”

He shrugged.

“That day, all those years ago, back in that cave…”

But she never got to finish. Because just then her cellphone rang. She glanced down before scrunching her eyes shut. “Shit. I’ve gotta take this,” she rubbed her temple. “And it’s probably gonna be a while.”

“You’ve still gotta talk to my boss, right?” he asked, as she stood.

“Yeah, I’ll be back at the video store in the morning.”

“Then I’ll see you then.”

Even though she was hovering over the table now, she seemed to be struggling. “Here’s my number,” she said finally, pulling out a business card. “In case you wanna get in touch about… you know, anything.”

Alex turned and hurried out of the cafe. Andrew watched her go, a sinking feeling in his chest. It was happening again. He could feel it. His life was about to get really weird again, wasn’t it?

His palm itched.

~~ o ~~

Alex waited until she was a good distance away towards her car before she accepted the call. “Hello,” she said primly, as if nothing was wrong.

The voice on the other end wasn’t buying it. “Alex,” it began, unamused. “Where are you?”

“What do you mean?” she asked, opening the door of her unassuming brown Honda. “I’m working a case.”

“Without me? Bullshit.”

Alex started the engine, but didn’t go anywhere just yet. “What are you trying to say, Trip?” She frowned. Alex really didn’t like keeping things from her partner, but in this scenario, she didn’t really have a choice.

“What case has you going MIA for four days? You didn’t tell anyone where you were going, nobody’s been able to get in touch with you… the chief’s steamed.”

“Tell her I’m taking a sabbatical.”

“Stop pussy-footing around this,” she could hear Trip’s frown through the phone. “You’re going after him, aren’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You’re a bad liar.” Trip was getting pissed off. He was probably pacing back and forth around his office right about now.

“I’m not lying.”

“Please, just tell me where you are. I promise I won’t tell anyone. Just let me come and help you.”

“Sorry,” she closed her eyes, even though he wasn’t even there. “I can’t do that.”

“He’s a murderer, Alex.”

“We don’t know that.”

She must have said it too quietly for him to hear through the static. Or maybe he just didn’t understand what she meant. “What?” he asked.

“I said we don’t know that. That is what I’m trying to find out.”

“Come on, Cross. I know how long you’ve spent sifting through all the old evidence. You can’t honestly believe he’s innocent.”

“For the time being, everything I have is circumstantial. Of all people, you should know that means jackshit. I don’t know what I think until I have definitive proof one way or another.”

“Alex, please. Let me just—”

But they were just going to start going in circles if they kept up like this. “I’m sorry, Trip. I have to go.”

“Wait—”

“I’m hanging up now,” she said firmly. “Goodbye.”

After hanging up the call, she shifted the car into drive and did just that. She needed to get some things in order. Because it wasn’t long now until everything was going to get… very complicated.

~~ o ~~

It was worse at night. During the light of day, it was much easier to maintain normalcy, or the semblance of it at least. But at night? He knew it wouldn’t do anything, not at all, but he still barricaded himself into his apartment. He wasn’t worried about anything breaking in.

He was worried about something getting out.

Needless to say, he didn’t sleep a lot.

It was going to be especially bad tonight, he could tell. His palm had been burning ever since he’d grabbed Alex’s card. As he sat on the small, creaky bed in the corner of his shitty studio apartment, he rubbed that scar, the one in the shape of two impossibly intersecting squares, absently, waiting.

That was the worst part, the waiting. Because sometimes, nothing would happen at all, and then right around four in the morning he’d finally try to go to bed. On evenings like this, he still hoped that would be the case, even if all signs pointed to the contrary. But he wouldn’t know until he did, and he had no idea when that would be.

It always started with a vague itch, though not one that he could scratch. Not on his skin, but like some sort of thing was wriggling around in his head, under his skull. After that he’d start to get light-headed, and feel a strange disconnect between his body and mind, hence why he stuck to the bed. Sometimes this feeling would get worse, sometimes he would black out entirely. Often he remained somewhat conscious, though he was pretty sure that wasn’t a good thing.

It used to terrify him. Now he just accepts it with a sort of dull apathy. Andrew has lived with him for ten years, after all.

A weight settles on his chest. He’s here.

“Hey kid,” says a voice, though Andrew doesn’t bother looking around. He knows it’s coming from his own mouth. “Kid!” It insists, a little louder.

In the past, Andrew would try to ignore it, to pretend it wasn’t there. But then he gets bored, and bad thing happen when he is bored.

“What do you want?” Andrew asks through gritted teeth.

“What’s with that tone?” the voice sounds vaguely offended. “Are you mad at me or somethin’? I haven’t even done anything that bad recently. Or… oh, wait, I know. You’re trying to keep something from me, aren’t you?”

He doesn’t always know what Andrew is thinking. The line between them is thin, but there is a line. Their co-habitation is stable. Andrew tries desperately to keep his mind blank, to think of something inane… like the eighties music at work. Sometimes Guns and Roses will get him to shut up.

“It’s no good kid, I can see right through you.”

Damn, not even “Welcome to the Jungle” is helping. That’s the worst one.

“What is it, hmmm? What is it that you’re so desperate to hide it from me…? Let’s see here, could it be… oh…. Ohhhhhhh…” He laughs, shaking Andrew’s body with fits. “Well, isn’t that just poetic? Almost can’t believe it myself. Exactly ten years later and there she is, the little tart that started this whole thing. She’s the one who almost ruined everything. What I wouldn’t give to—”

“Don’t you fucking touch her!” Andrew can feel that alien rage rising in his own chest, but he pushes it back down.

“Or what?” Andrew’s head tilts to the side. “What do you think you can possible do to stop me?”

For the millionth time, Andrew searches for something, anything he can do. But as always, he draws a blank. Not even killing himself worked. He’s tried that more than once.

“I don’t know why you’re trying to defend her,” the voice continues. “She’s technically here for your boss, right? You know that eventually, she’s going to find out what you did.”

“What you did,” Andrew insists. “That wasn’t me.” It almost sounds like he’s trying to convince himself.

“Maybe so, but I don’t really exist, right? At least not to everyone out there. It’s your fingerprints all over that corpse in the back room, not mine.”

“Fuck you.”

“You know, throughout this whole affair of ours, I’ve never quite understood why you’re always so upset. I’m just trying to fulfill my end of the bargain. You’re the one who wanted your life to be special. I’ve given you so many great inciting incidents, but you never want to be a part of them! You just keep running away.”

“Because you always try to cast me as the villain.”

“Don’tcha know that’s the best part to play? Why be a dumb hero when you could have some real fun? You know, get a little crazy with it?”

“This isn’t some kind of story, this is real life.”

“And I fixed yours, didn’t I? Got you out of that trailer in the middle of Nowhere-Fast.”

Andrew stiffens. He doesn’t want to remember that. He doesn’t want to remember what happened that night. Yet he does. He does anyway. His face was hurting from another drunken fit, his father was screaming in his face, his palm was burning. And then he simply… lost it. He watched, like a movie, as his own limbs reached for the kitchen knife, and then his vision was almost entirely consumed by red and the taste of iron filled his mouth. He tried to scream, but he couldn’t. He tried to stop his arm from moving, but he couldn’t. Couldn’t he even wipe that smile off his face, the one that was threatening to split his cheeks with how broad it was? Not even that. And yet he could feel that knife plunging down, again and again, feel the blood drenching his grey sweatshirt.

When he finally regained control over his own faculties again, all he could do was run.

“You haven’t fixed shit,” Andrew mutters. “Everything just keeps getting worse.”

“It wouldn’t if you would just play along.”

“I’m not going to do that. I can’t.” He’s wanted to. The thought has crossed his mind so many times to just give up the ghost. But still, as it always does, just when he’s teetering on the edge, her face comes to his mind again. Now it’s no longer that of a child. And that makes it worse. That makes her real.

“She’s going to find out,” the voice says. “And I can’t let that happen. I’m not done here yet. Sorry, kid, them’s the breaks.”

“I swear to god, you son of a—”

But sometimes, even when he regains that broken will, there’s still nothing he can do. Nothing at all. He doesn’t finish his sentence. He doesn’t let him. A roaring sound, like he’s just dived underwater, fills his ears, and everything becomes dim and hazy.

“Now, if you’ll excuse me,” even the voice sounds a little distant now, despite the feeling of his own vocal cords working. “I’ve got a phone call to make.”

Part II

It was raining by the time that Alex made it back to her hotel room, which meant that it was far darker than it should have been for this early in the evening. Her skin crawled oddly as she fumbled for the light switch. Even when the room was bathed in a harsh, yellow glow, the feeling didn’t necessarily go away.

She tried not to think about Trip, and how she’d had to blow him off. But this whole thing was something she didn’t even understand herself, let alone tell him about it. And besides, this was something that she may very well have helped to start, so she would have to end it herself. It was her responsibility.

Wasn’t this why she had joined the FBI in the first place? To gain the resources she needed to find him again? Alex felt bad about that too. She hadn’t lied to Andrew, exactly. Everything she’d said was true. But it wasn’t the full story. Not by a long shot.

Alex sighed as she surveyed the room that was strewn with various papers and documents. She hadn’t organized them into a conspiracy board or anything like that, if only because it would be more effort than it was worth to set it up.

Some of the papers were beginning to yellow from age. Most of these were print-outs that Alex had gotten herself over the course of her initial investigation. There were several articles about the murder of Andrew’s father. He’d been found alone in the trailer that he lived in with his son, stabbed several times in the chest and limbs. Officially, the incident had been classified as a random break-in, as the wounds were too deep to have been made by a fourteen-year-old boy, at least against a full-grown man. So Andrew had been merely marked as “missing.”

But among these printouts were also some photos. Alex had gone to that trailer when she’d been seventeen. The Zeng’s didn’t have any other relatives, so no one had touched it since the police investigation, which had been precursory at best and incompetent at worst. She hadn’t gotten inside, the door had been locked and she didn’t have the guts to try to break in, but there were several blurry shots taken through the dusty windows and of the door.

The inside was messy, sure, a little messed up on top of that. There had clearly been some sort of a struggle, but was there enough misplaced to assume a break-in? Maybe, but the thing that really made her wonder was the door. It was entirely intact, and there was no sign of forced entry save for some scratches around the keyhole, which, knowing the elder Zeng’s proclivities, were more likely caused by him than any intruder.

At the time, that had been all she could do. It had raised a suspicion in her mind, but that was all. She couldn’t come to any real conclusions, or motivations, and she had no idea where Andrew had gone.

Once she’d joined the FBI, however, that had all changed. It had taken a lot of sleepless nights—and a lot of shitty coffee—but Alex had persevered. At first, she’d been extremely discouraged, as it seemed as if her old friend had simply disappeared entirely. But gradually, from what little documentation he’d left behind: a job here, an apartment there, and from contacting what few acquaintances he’d had, Alex had managed to piece together a picture of where he’d been these past ten years.

The rest of the papers consisted of these documents—which she might not have acquired entirely legally—transcripts of interviews she’d conducted, and yet more newspaper articles.

Andrew seemed to have made it a habit to disappear suddenly. Most people she’d talked to had described him as a polite young man, if a little distant, but nearly all of them had expressed confusion when he just up and vanished.

Alex hadn’t told any of them why he’d gone. She didn’t want to ruin their impression of him. But attached to nearly every interview she had was a newspaper article. A break-in here, an assault there. Murder was the most common, all occurring right around the time Andrew disappeared again. Of course, Andrew couldn’t be tied directly to any of them. The closest any of them got to a description of the assailant was “Asian,” which didn’t mean anything. And usually there wasn’t one at all.

Like she’d told Trip earlier, it was all purely circumstantial. There was absolutely no concrete proof that he’d committed all those crimes, or even a single one of them. Furthermore, he had no motive, at least not for all the diversity. He did share an acquaintance with a few of the victims, but not enough to constitute a pattern. And taking the boy she’d known and the man she’d spoken with earlier that day, he didn’t read as someone capable of anything so extreme.

But all of that was what conventional wisdom dictated. That was discounting an important witness account: her own. That testimony would never be admissible in court. It had happened ten years ago, and she hadn’t really been lying about that. Alex didn’t necessarily remember what had happened that day. And of what she did remember… well, in no sane world could any of that be real.

Which was why she had no idea what to think. Everything she knew and learned told her that Andrew couldn’t be responsible for the mayhem that seemed to follow him. But what she felt was even if he couldn’t, he just might be. It didn’t really make sense even to her. She needed to ask Andrew.

But by that same token, asking Andrew might be dangerous. For all she knew, he might not be Andrew at all anymore.

Luckily, she had insurance. Almost everything she’d told Andrew had been a half-truth, except for one thing. It wasn’t a coincidence that she’d run into him in the video store, and she hadn’t been there for his boss. Obviously.

Which led her to the very last document, one that was separated out from all the others, laid out on the bedside table. It was a missing persons report for one Andrei Kreminsky, filed four days ago by his daughter. Luckily for her, a lot of people went missing in the city, so the police hadn’t been particularly quick on the draw with this one. Alex wouldn’t admit that she’d been keeping an eye on the video store, or that she’d known for quite a while that Andrew was working there, but maybe she had. Just a little.

She’d accomplished what she wanted to today. She’d made contact. Either Andrew had lied to her to hide the fact that his boss was missing, or he’d lied for some other reason. Which meant further investigation was required.

Her next goal was to fully scope out the video store. That would be hard to do without raising Andrew’s suspicions, but she thought she’d done a good enough job dropping his guard today. However, it was still going to be a… delicate operation. If she could get concrete proof that Kreminsky was dead, then she might be able to convince him to start talking for real.

Yet if there was one thing she’d learned as a rookie FBI agent, it was that often the best laid plans got utterly screwed up.

She was just about to find someplace to eat—there was no point in sitting and stewing in this tiny room any longer than she needed to—when her phone rang. She almost ignored it. It was probably just Trip again, or maybe her boss. Odds were she was not going to have a job after this. But then she saw an unknown number with the city’s area code, and picked it up.

“Hello, this is Alex Cross.”

“Alex? It’s, uh, Andrew. Sorry to call so late.”

“Oh no, it’s fine,” she hitched her voice up a little. “I’d just finished dinner, actually.”

“It’s just…” he sounded hesitant. “There’s a lot of stuff I feel like we both wanna talk about, but I don’t think the video store is the best place to do it.”

“You’re probably right.”

“Do you have a car? Lemme give you the address to my place.”

Alex noted that it was located in a shitty neighborhood, right near the video store.

“Parking’s really rough around here, but there’s a parking garage a block down that’s usually pretty empty. I can meet you there.”

“Sounds like a plan. I’ll be right over.”

Internally, her heart sank a little. ‘Meet me at an empty parking garage after dark.’ If he wanted, it would be the perfect place to get rid of her. But he didn’t know what she knew. And maybe his intentions really were good. Either way, she had to go, didn’t she?

She grabbed her sidearm, the standard Glock M 19, just in case. Whatever happened, whoever she met there, she was going to get some god-damned answers.

She’d waited ten years, after all.

~~ o ~~

Alex always felt a little uncomfortable in parking garages. Apparently it had something to do with liminal spaces, parking garages being locations that one mostly didn’t spent a lot of time in. Alex thought that personally, it was all the concrete. She didn’t like the weight of it, how she could feel it pressing down around her.

She had her pick of parking spots. Andrew had been right, the place was mostly empty. There were a few lonely cars here or there, though most of them looked like they’d been here a long time. Yeah, she really didn’t like this.

There was one thought that had occasionally surfaced in her brain. It was one that, frankly, she didn’t want to think about. What if there was nothing strange or, somehow, supernatural about this whole affair? What if Andrew was simply just responsible? Maybe something in that cave, or something after, had just broken him? Up till now it had been easier to believe in an alternate solution, but now that she was here, she had to face the fact that it was the most rational explanation.

She kept her door locked as she reached for her phone to text him. But before she got very far she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Alex had to smile a little, despite the situation. After all of this time, the man still loved his gray hoodies.

His hands were in his pockets as he padded softly across the concrete towards her. He just looked like a normal guy. His usual, nearly apologetic look, which had only intensified with age, was so thoroughly Andrew that for a second she was sure there had to be some mistake.

But Alex bit her lip. That was sentiment talking. The number one thing she’d learned in the academy was that you couldn’t judge someone by appearance alone. You had to rely on the facts. Right now, there weren’t a lot of those. And there was only one way to know for sure.

She opened her door, and stepped out of the car.

“Hi,” she said.

He smiled vaguely. “Did you find the place okay?”

“Uh huh,” she nodded, shivering a little from all the concrete and the hollow way their voices echoed back at them. “You were right, this place really is empty.”

“I don’t really know why,” he admitted. “Every other place is always slammed.”

“Well, it is a little creepy.”

The wind whistled through the garage, which wasn’t helping matters.

“You think so?” he asked. “I’ve always found it kinda comforting.”

With a jolt, Alex realized why she was finding this whole thing so disconcerting. Andrew standing there had solidified it. The hollow, yet heavy feeling, the echoes of the rain falling outside, even the eerie chill. It was as if no time at all had passed, and the two of them were right back in that cave.

“It’s a little… cold,” she said lamely.

“Then let’s head to my place,” he suggested, turning.

Alex hesitated, for just a moment.

“What’s the hold-up?” he asked, as he realized that she wasn’t following behind him. “Let’s go, Daisy Chain.”

He froze as he heard the safety of Alex’s pistol releasing.

“Alex,” he muttered, his back still to her. “What are you doing?”

It wasn’t until that moment that Alex knew what she was doing. The gun now gripped in her shaking hand was pointing directly at his back. She had raised it instinctively, as a visceral gut reaction. A reaction in response to that phrase.

“Andrew has never called me that.”

“What, Daisy Chain? I just think it’s a nice nickname.”

“No. That’s a lie.” She couldn’t believe it. She was remembering. She was really remembering something now. Something she desperately didn’t want to. “There was… down in that cave with us… something. Andrew never called me that. Not even once. But that… that thing.”

“Oops,” the man that she’d thought was Andrew sighed. “I was sure I’d gotten better at imitating the kid, but guess I screwed up, huh?”

He turned his head to look at her, and smiled broadly. It was impossible. She was sure that that awful day was something she’d just invented, maybe to cover up something worse that had happened to her, so she’d tried her best to forget about the whole thing. But… had it all really been… real? No, it couldn’t be. Andrew was here, right in front of her.

“Hands where I can see them,” she barked hoarsely, and he complied, turning to face her. “Who are you?”

His expression twisted. “You don’t remember me? I’m hurt! And after we played such a fun game together.”

It was a split personality. It had to be. Maybe he’d developed it while they’d known each other. Maybe he’d had it all along and it had just happened to come out on that particular day. Because Andrew was still standing in front of her. It was still his face that was twisting into those unnatural expressions. He hadn’t been replaced by someone else.

“Although, I guess I never told you my full name, did I? It sounds a little suspicious, I’ll admit. But everyone’s gotta have one, I guess. So if you’d like, you can call me ‘Mr. Malum’.”

Yes. He’d just been “Mr. M.” back then, but that was the bastard. “I thought I got rid of you,” she played along, her finger not leaving that trigger.

“Our agreement, if I recall correctly, was that I gave Andrew his body back. We never said for how long.”

“You piece of shit.”

“Gee, your mouth’s gotten fouler since back then. What a shame. You were such a precocious lil tyke, but you just had to go and grow up, didn’t you?”

Alex’s vision was swimming. This couldn’t be really happening. And yet, with each moment that passed, she found herself believing it just a little bit more. It was that smile. That same one that she was sure haunted her nightmares, even if she couldn’t remember them.

No! God, she had to get a grip. The man in front of her was just that: a flesh and blood mortal just as she was. He was just very sick, and he needed her help. She owed him that. All she could do was detain him and hope that Andrew came back soon.

“I’m going to cuff you now,” she told him, gripping onto the handcuffs that were in her sweatshirt pocket. “Don’t resist.”

A pitying expression crossed his face. “Sorry, Daisy Chain, but you’re not going to do that.”

She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say anything, something… impossible happened right before her eyes. Mr. Malum, Andrew, whoever he was, simply pointed his finger, but not at her. At her gun. Alex squeezed the trigger, but to her surprise, nothing happened.

For a split second she looked down, and dropped the pistol. It was the dumbest thing she could have done. But what else was she supposed to do when it was staring back at her? She couldn’t even pick it back up again because it scuttled away with a series of pitiful shrieks.

By the time she recovered, Mr. Malum was already halfway across the parking garage. “I’d thank your lucky stars that I’m still not at my best. Woulda turned it into a snake or something if I could.”

Alex gave chase. What else could she do? Her sneakers thundered across the concrete as she sprinted after him, but he had a sizable head start. He made it to the side of the concrete, right where the garage was butted up against an abandoned building of some kind. With no hesitation, he vaulted the embankment and flew through the broken window just ahead of them.

“Shit,” she muttered. He was leading her into a more advantageous location, and now that her gun was gone, she was unarmed. At least, that’s what he thought. But she was just as prepared as he was, and she was going to finally take this bastard down.

She’d grown much more athletic over the last few years, she’d had to. But that window might be even too far away for her to make it to, let alone Andrew, who was still slightly shorter than her. It was with a sinking heart she realized the increasing improbability of a realistic explanation for all of this. One would think that him turning her gun into a literal creature might’ve done it, but if there was one thing Alex was above all else, it was stubborn.

The window was coming up now. If he’d made it, even if he wasn’t quite human, she was going to have to try. If she didn’t, she’d never catch him. Alex mounted the embankment and pushed off as hard as she could. She flew through the air towards the stained bricks of the abandoned building, and barely managed to cling onto the windowsill that Andrew had soared through easily. Grunting, she pulled herself up and through, out of the rain and into the building beyond.

Tumbling to the ground, she coughed as her abrupt entrance kicked up a cloud of dust around her. When she finally gathered herself and looked up, her gaze was greeted by rows upon rows of wooden desks. This place must have been a school at some point, though it had long since fallen into disuse.

She stood, and felt around in her pockets. Good, everything was still there. At least she wasn’t completely defenseless.

“I gotta say,” a tinny voice blared suddenly, and Alex jumped. “I didn’t expect you to be this prepared. I was sure that I’d caught you off-guard, but I guess the shoe’s on the other foot now, huh? This school was just a backup plan, so well done.”

Alex swiveled wildly until she found the source of the sound: a speaker screwed into the ceiling. No, wait. It used to be a speaker. Now the metal had been morphed into what looked like a set of lips. It ground horribly as it spat out every word.

“Lemme guess, you were never after Andrew’s boss, were you?”

She had to laugh at that. Whatever he was, he was still much less clever than he thought he was. “I actually had you fooled, huh?”

“You wouldn’t have if I hadn’t just seen your little meeting through the kid’s memories.”

Her heart leapt briefly. “So that was him?”

“Unfortunately, yes.” He sounded annoyed.

Right now, the game they were playing was cat and mouse. Or maybe cat and cat was more accurate. Both were trying to hunt the other down. At the moment, it didn’t matter whether he was Andrew or Mr. Malum. If he could do something like that to her gun, to what was looking to be nearly all the speakers in the building, who knew what he could do to her?

All she could do was keep him talking, and hope that would distract him enough for her to get the jump on him. The school had two floors, so her best bet was to systematically go through both. Quietly as she could, she opened the door, and stepped out into the locker-lined hallway.

“Is he still there?” she asked. “Andrew, I mean.”

“Didn’t you ask that last time?” his voice was oddly stereophonic from all the odd directions it was coming from. “The answer is still the same. Though there’s a lot less screaming this time. A lot of swearing and apologizing though. It’s frankly kind of annoying.”

She was clearing this floor pretty quickly, going from room to room. Each was a mess, and besides the voice of Mr. Malum crackling through the emptiness, eerily quiet. Discarded papers covered the floors, and her feet left visible marks in the dust. His would too, but she hadn’t seen anything yet. Alex couldn’t believe that she found herself checking every surface for eyes that shouldn’t be there, just in case he was watching her.

“So how long do you have until he comes back?”

“What do you mean?”

She was turning the corner in the hallway now. Halfway done with this floor and still nothing. “Well, the way I see it, if you could stay in control all the time, I never would have met up with Andrew at all. You’d never let him out. And why would you?”

Alex could almost hear the scowl in his words. “Like I said, I’m not at my best.”

Maybe that was why he hadn’t done anything more. Maybe that was why Alex herself was still intact. If she drew this out, he might possibly get even weaker.

“You never answered my question.”

This classroom had some graffiti in it, spray paint on the chalkboard from some kids who had clearly used this building to get high, judging from all the stussies and 420s. She took a few tentative steps in to gauge all the angles.

“Oh, that’s right. If I take it easy on the reality-warping I can do this all night. So don’t think the kid’s gonna wrestle back control like a knight in shining armor or something stupid like that. There’s only monsters here.”

Shit. There went that notion. But wait. Did his voice sound… different just then? More… echoey?

He was right down the hall. Her footprints were leading him right to her.

But maybe she could use that to her advantage. Quietly as she could, Alex hopped up on a desk and leapfrogged from one to the other until she was right beside the door.

She could hear his footsteps now, the converse rubber padding softly against the tile. Shoving her hand in her sweatshirt pocket, Alex held her breath, felt her heart pumping wildly in her chest, and waited.

“But as much as I would love to dance this tango with you the entire evening,” the door opened, and Andrew, no, definitely not Andrew, sauntered in. Just like she predicted, he was following her footprints, “I don’t think it’s going to last that long.”

“You’re right,” she said, directly behind him now, and pulled the taser from her pocket. He had just enough time to turn, caught thoroughly off-guard, before she jabbed it against his neck.

Alex was terrified that it wouldn’t work. That he’d just stare at her and laugh and say: “Nice try, Daisy Chain.”

But regardless of whatever Mr. Malum really was, Andrew’s body was merely human. It convulsed rapidly, and a burning smell singed Alex’s nose, before he abruptly collapsed, narrowly avoiding hitting his head on a desk on his way down.

Without a second’s hesitation, Alex had him handcuffed, and it was only after this was done that she let herself fall to the floor and suck in a few breaths of much-needed air.

Now she was just gonna have to figure out how the hell she was going to haul him out of here before he woke up. And who knew how long that was going to be.

Part III

He looked so… normal, sitting there in the interrogation room. Alex watched him from behind the one-way mirror, brows furrowed.

It had been the longest twenty-four hours of her life. Just getting him to the police station had been an ordeal; she’d had to taze him again on the drive over, and that was after spending a nerve-wracking ten minutes waiting for police back-up.

After that, she’d gotten minimal sleep before heading over to the video store the next morning, warrant in hand. Sure enough, the body of Andrei Kreminsky was immediately discovered locked up in a supply closet. Even if he couldn’t be charged with all the other crimes he’d committed, at least he’d go down for that one.

The problem was Andrew. After everything she’d seen last night, Alex was convinced that he and “Mr. Malum” were two entirely different individuals. But it wasn’t like she’d ever be able to write that down in a report. For all intents and purposes, it was Andrew who’d committed those crimes. An innocent man was going to be punished for the rest of his life for crimes that he didn’t commit.

But Alex wasn’t going to let his sacrifice go to waste. The way she saw it, she had one more shot to figure out exactly who this fucker was. If she did, maybe she could stop something like this from happening again. She just had to make sure she didn’t look crazy in the process.

“I gotta say,” said the officer next to her, with a somewhat pitying expression, “he really doesn’t look like a murderer to me. Kinda reminds me of my nephew, sweet kid. I guess it just goes to show you can’t trust anybody, huh?”

“Mr. Zeng’s a bit of a… special case,” she tried to sound as authoritative as possible. “It’s undiagnosed, so I can’t say for sure, but I believe he has a pretty straight-forward case of Dissociative Identity Disorder.”

“Huh?”

“A split personality. It tends to occur as the result of some sort of trauma, which tracks considering his background. This second personality calls itself ‘Mr. Malum,’ and it seems to contain all of his violent thoughts and tendencies, which he potentially inherited from his father.” She felt sick to her stomach placing all this on him, but odds were she was already being recorded before she even entered the room. “He’s pretty lucky, some cases contain four, five, even more personalities than that sometimes.”

“And this sicko will only speak to you, huh?”

Alex bit her lip to stop herself from saying anything. “It makes sense,” she said instead. “I’m the one who’s been tracking him down, after all.”

“So what are you going to do?”

“Play along,” Alex sighed. “If there’s any more victims, this will be the best way to learn about them. But if I deny the fantasy he’s built for himself, he might become agitated.”

“Like a bull in a china store.”

“Pretty much, yep.” Taking a deep breath, Alex steeled herself for what was to come. She had no idea who she was going to meet in there. Whoever it was, she had to make this count.

The door slammed behind her with a heavy clunk, and Andrew (?) glanced upwards.

A broad grin spread across his face. “There you are, Daisy Chain. Took you long enough.”

Well, at least he didn’t leave her guessing for long. “I heard you wouldn’t speak to anyone else.”

He barked out a laugh. “As if you could stay away.”

Trying to ignore the feeling of her skin itself trying to crawl away, Alex sat down at the table across from him. The light was so harsh that it was hurting her eyes. She had no idea how he’d sat here for hours. “I’m surprised you haven’t broken out yet,” she commented. “After what you did to my gun yesterday, those hand-cuffs should be nothing.”

“You don’t listen very well, do you?”

Just as Alex took out a pencil to take some notes, she felt it jostle in between her fingers and giggle at her. She dropped it onto the table, but when she blinked, it lay still, just a normal pencil again.

“You said you ‘weren’t at your best,’ but what does that mean?”

“That’s the extent of what I can do at the moment. Pathetic, ain’t it? I used up all my juice last night. If you hadn’t knocked Andrew out for so long you might have been talking to him right now instead.”

“So you’re stuck.”

“For a while, at least.”

“Then we’ve got time.”

He looked at her curiously, tilting his head. “Funny,” he said. “I thought you’d be asking me more about the things I’ve done.”

“I don’t need to,” she said. “One murder is more than enough to lock you away for a very long time. But if you wanna confess to any of the other crimes in Andrew Zeng’s file, then I certainly wouldn’t be opposed.”

“Ah, so you know about all that already.” He leaned forward, at least as far as the handcuffs would allow. The expression on his face wasn’t unnatural per say, but it wasn’t one Andrew would have ever made. Too giddy, too confident. It unnerved her. “But there’s something that you know nothing about.”

“And what’s that?”

“Me.”

He’d hit the nail on the head. Mr. Malum laughed as he saw he was right. “Tell you what. For old time’s sake, let’s you and me play a little game.”

“I don’t like your games,” she scowled.

“No tricks this time,” he insisted. “The game is simple. We each get to ask the other three questions. You have to answer truthfully. I’ll be able to tell if you’re lying.”

“That’s it?” she asked. “I don’t get it. I get some questions answered, but what do you get out of this whole thing?”

“Is that your first question?”

“I haven’t agreed to play yet.”

“Fine, fine,” he tilted his head playfully. “It’s to cause Andrew pain.” Alex glared at him silently for a minute. “I’ll even let you go first,” he offered.

“Alright,” she said finally, then before she could second-guess herself, she blurted: “What are you?”

“You certainly don’t waste any time,” he scoffed. “Now, how can I word this without blowing your feeble little mind? Let’s see. I’m… not from around here. I’m from somewhere outside, though even there I’m a bit of an anomaly. There are a few of us, but I’m a bit special.”

He fell silent, starring at her.

“Care to elaborate?” she asked.

“I answered your question. We never said how. I was entirely truthful.”

Of course he’d try to pull some carefully worded genie bullshit on her. She’d have to be more cautious about what she asked.

“Then I guess that makes it your turn.”

“It certainly is.” He sat back. “Okie doki. My first question is: just how long have you been trying to track us down?”

“Since I went back to the lake.”

“So… seven years, then? Seven years of sleepless nights and shitty coffee, just for one loser you knew for two months when you were thirteen? That’s not my second question, by the way.”

The right side of his face twitched momentarily into a sort of grimace, and Alex definitely didn’t miss it. It timed out perfectly with the pang of guilt that hit her own chest. Malum was devious. If pain was his goal, he was getting two for the price of one.

“Which makes it your turn.”

Alex paused, thinking carefully. Ultimately, what he was or where he was from didn’t matter so much. What was most important was how much of a threat he was.

“If you’re so special as you claim, then how come I’ve been able to best you not once, but twice now?”

He raised one side of his upper lip in agitation. “Because I’m so special that I was going to control the entire cosmos. Your gun, that pencil, the speakers, that’s all a tiny micro-fraction of what I can do out there. But some people are afraid of change, of creation. So they locked me up. Most of me is still back there now.”

Maybe it was the sheer unbelievability of it all, but Alex found her brain glossing over some of the more incredulous implications. But she had learned something important: that it was definitely a good thing she’d gotten him behind bars again.

“Alright, my second question.” Mr. Malum interrupted her thoughtful silence. “Did you think, before our re-acquaintance, that is, that Andrew did it? All the murder, the mayhem, and such, I mean?”

She knew what he was really asking: whether she believed that Mr. Malum was a real, separate entity, or if Andrew had just lost his mind. Alex wanted to say ‘no.’ She desperately wanted to say that she’d believed in Andrew for all those years spent looking for him.

“...Yes,” she said, after a very long pause. Then she looked away at the floor. She didn’t want to see the hurt that no doubt momentarily passed over his features.

“That’s what I figured.”

Her head shot up again in shock, as for just a moment, she was sure that Andrew had come back. But when he saw the look on her face, Mr. Malum laughed, and Alex turned red with frustration.

“One final question,” he intoned. “Better make it count.”

Though she would never admit it, he’d gotten to her a bit, and in her agitation, Alex was a little hasty. “I don’t understand,” she said. “If you’re ‘locked-up,’ as you say, then how’re you talking to me right now?”

“In case you couldn’t tell,” he rolled his eyes, as if this was the most obvious thing in the world. “I’m not made of flesh and blood like you are. I’m malleable. All I needed to start sneaking out was an anchor—or two—and a conduit.”

“Conduit?”

“They took everything from the kid’s pockets when they locked me up in here. So you must have seen it, right? I can’t imagine you missed it.”

Alex shivered as she realized what he was talking about. Of course she’d seen it when she’d pawed through the evidence not an hour ago.

Mr. Malum held up his palm—Andrew’s palm—and showed her a scar. It was a perfect imprint. It exactly matched that strange key currently in a vacu-sealed plastic bag in the evidence locker.

He’d kept it. All these years Andrew had kept that key. If he’d just thrown it away, back at the cave, then maybe none of this would have happened. Unless he hadn’t had a choice.

No. Malum was just trying to confuse her again, trying to get in her head. She had to remain steady. She still had to get through his last question.

“Alright, let’s bring it home with a classic. You know, for old time’s sake.”

Alex’s heart sank. She knew where this was going.

Mr. Malum grinned, sensing her discomfort. “How do you feel about Andrew?” He waited, his expression frozen in that ice-cold smile, as Alex sat in silence. “By all means, take your time,” he said. “Although I would think carefully if I were you. It’d be… disappointing for everyone if you copped out like last tim—”

“I hate him,” she spat, surprising herself just as much as Mr. Malum.

“Huh?”

“I hate him for his weakness, but I love him for his strength.” She didn’t really know what she was saying, but she kept going anyway. “I’m so angry at him for being such an idiot, and I’m devastated at how much he’s had to endure all on his own for all these years. I pity him and I’m proud of him, but most of all… I’m scared of him. I’m terrified of what he might’ve become after a decade of you. Asking me to put it in one word, one emotion is ridiculous. Feelings are more complicated than that. They always are.”

For once, Mr. Malum said nothing. He just stared at her in stunned silence. Though an odd look was slowly crossing his face. Was it… confusion…?

But she wasn’t going to give him a chance to express it. “Now, I believe that concludes your little game, doesn’t it? So if you’ll excuse me, I think we’re done here.”

Without another word, she got up, and walked out of the room.

~~ o ~~

Alex hadn’t left town when she got the call. She’d been sitting in her hotel room, in the dark, not quite sure what to do with herself. She was paralyzed, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Hello?” she asked, not even bothering to check who it was.

There was silence for so long that she was just about to hang up. But then he spoke. “Alex?”

She tried to speak, but her throat was stuck closed.

“I, uh, know there’s nothing I can… I can say to convince you it’s, uh, it’s really… me.”

He had one phone call. He only had one, and he’d used it to call her, the woman who had ruined his life.

“I’m… sorry,” she stuttered out. Even if this was another trick, she needed to say it and hope that he could hear.

He laughed, but it was so quiet, and bitter, so different from that near cackle that even now was echoing in her ears. And it was that moment that she became sure. It was him.

“I think that’s, uh, that’s my line.”

“...Andrew…”

“This is going to sound so fake,” he sighed. “You know, after everything, and… I know that it’s stupid, and dumb, and selfish, but… I want to see you… one last time.”

He was about to spend a lifetime in prison for a series of crimes he didn’t commit, and she was the one who’d put him there. It would cause her more pain, especially if Mr. Malum made another appearance. But she owed him this.

After ten years, they were finally going to make it out of that damned cave.

~~ o ~~

The holding cell was made of concrete. Andrew was the only one in it. Worse, it was raining again. Not that he would really be able to hear it, but it left the air feeling damp. Once again it was damnably familiar.

Alex didn’t have much time. Her boss had realized where she was. Obviously she had, after the reports started coming in about the murder, and Alex’s involvement therein. Her phone had been ringing off the hook for the last twenty minutes. Once this was done, Alex would face whatever consequences awaited her. But right now, she had one last thing she needed to do.

He was sitting at the back of the cell, collapsed on a metal bench, head leaned back against the wall, eyes closed. He only stirred when the heavy, metal door closed behind her.

Andrew looked exhausted, though no doubt she looked exactly the same. Blearily, he blinked at her a few times as she approached the bars.

“You came,” he said, with a mixture of relief and disappointment that sent horrible aches through her chest.

“Of course,” she whispered. “I had to, didn’t I? It’s my fault, all of it. I should have made sure that he was really gone, way back when. If I had, then maybe… I was tricked. I’m such an idiot.”

“We were both tricked,” he said, his voice stronger than she was expecting. “But me worst of all. None of this is on you, so stop apologizing. This is all me.”

“You can’t really believe that, you—”

“Alex,” he cut her off. “I kept it.”

“What?”

“That fucking key. He didn’t force me to. Even after I saw what he did, I kept it. I was just a dumbass little kid who saw your life and… I wanted to be enough to fit in it.”

She didn’t knew what she could say to that.

“You should’ve been a lawyer,” he said. “Or a doctor, or a fucking astronaut. But because of me… I dragged you down into the mud with me.”

“You’re still a dumbass,” she muttered.

“Huh?”

“You think you’re really important, like I didn’t choose this for myself. I guess if there’s one silver lining to all of this, it’s thanks to you that I found something I love doing more than anything. Only thing I could really blame you for is making me lose it after all of this is said and done.”

“Sorry… about that.”

“You shouldn’t have kept it though.”

“I know.”

“I just… wish you’d realized that it didn’t matter,” she sighed. “You didn’t need to be anything more than you already were.”

He hung his head, and for a moment, Alex thought he was thinking. But then, his shoulders began to shake. Gradually the sound reached her ears: laughter.

Andrew’s head shot up suddenly, and jerked to one side with an audible crack.

“Well, isn’t this just touching?” Mr. Malum grinned. “It’s so saccharine it makes me wanna barf.”

Alex was just about to scowl, but then he suddenly squeezed his eyes shut, and when he opened them again, his expression changed drastically.

“Shit, not now,” he begged through gritted teeth. “Just let me say goodbye, you bastard. Is that too much to ask?”

His head jerked again. “Sorry, kid, no can do. You see, this lady friend of yours and I have some unfinished business.”

“I thought it was pretty conclusive, myself,” Alex did scowl now.

“Leave her alone. Please,” Andrew pleaded. “Why are you so obsessed with her?”

“Maybe it’s because you are, I’ve got no clue. But I gotta say, Daisy Chain,” he’d been talking back and forth to himself, but suddenly turned back to Alex. “I didn’t expect you to actually get me, in the end. But once again you surprised me. And then, cherry right on top of the cake, you proved to be so much more entertaining than I expected, even after your victory. I might be just as smitten with you as the kid is.”

“Then why don’t you leave him alone and come bug me instead?”

“Alex!”

“You don’t know how much I wish I could. Alas, good ol’ Andrew is the only one who fits right. Until he’s dead I’m stuck with him, the loser. But just killing him would be too easy.”

“What are you planning? I doubt you’re just gonna spend the next sixty years in prison.”

“Not in this one, at least.”

He stood, and took a few, stumbling steps towards the bars in between them.

“I’m sorry,” Andrew said, his voice rising. “I’m so sorry. I… I can’t do anything. He’s trying to pull something. Please, Alex, get out of here!”

But before Alex could heed his warning, one of his arms shot out and grabbed her through those bars with a vice-like grip.

“But if I must return to my true prison, I won’t go alone this time. I want to see you struggle more!”

“What are you doing?” she demanded, struggling to get away. But he wrenched her arm back through to his side so that her shoulder was pinned.

Grinning, he raised his palm upward, the one with the key-shaped scar, and it began to glow.

“It doesn’t matter what you do to me!” Alex shouted over a sudden roaring sound and a rush of wind. “I’ll destroy you and free Andrew!”

She wanted to say more, but the very air itself was twisting and distorting around her, sapping the oxygen from her lungs.

Yet somehow, through the cacophony, she could hear his voice so clearly:

“That sounds like fun. Promise?”