Original Souls (A World Apart #1) (30 page)

"Yes, Sena. Hendrix, they are pretty cool," Walker's smirk couldn't be any more broad. "And -did you know that in mythology they say that the Tydrah
n’
s lightning can even strike down the mythical firebirds. The ones that keep Aurora Boreal, and in fact, all of Hyperborean from freezing over. Ha!" he chirped. "These myths! Oh, how they are so impractical
,
” Walker held no punches as he spoke, "for some to comprehend."

She was cornered. She didn't have any moves to make. So she defaulted to her old faithful. "These playing cards were banned over a decade and a half ago. They aren't permitted on school grounds. I'll have to confiscate it." She reached for Corinth's hand holding the card. He frowned but wasn't overcome by any real grief. He liked it, but didn't have much use for it as of yet.

"Actually, Grand Ministrant." Walker was getting bold. He gently smacked her hand away from Corinth's. Emmy and Corinth didn't even notice, it happened so fast. But Anvard was watching Walker like a hawk. He saw the blatant disrespect in his gesture. "I took the liberty of filing a petition to reinstate the card game. It was approved by the board around, uh..." he pulled his wrist up to check his watch, "fancy that, around eight o'clock last night. What a pity you couldn't have joined the committee. They unanimously agreed that it has been too long since the children could bask in the glory of the illustrious game of Deaves." She was astonished at the revelation, and he was ecstatic. "After all, with dangerous sports like Levantarse being played every day, why can't the more docile children have a game they can sink their teeth into as well."

"That's what Spheres is for," she tried arguing but it was already done. And even her status as Grand Ministrant didn't simply grant her the power to reverse a decision finalized by the entire board. Minus herself, of course.

"Well, with all due respect to your inventive skills, Silvia. The children simply don't like Spheres," Walker relayed. "I
t’
s not nearly as fun for them as it may be for a sixty something year old woman.

She shot him a look that said watch it, or lose it. He got the message, and began creepily disappearing around the trunk of the massive tree they stood under. He said his goodbyes, mostly to Corinth, while he walked away.

"Why don't you children run along now," she said with her eyes trained on the back of Walker's plaid shirt. "There are probably some affiliates you'd all like to sign up and try out for. I'm sure with your body type, Anvard, that you'd like to get on the Levantarse team before i
t’
s too late." She turned and smiled as kindly as she could at him. He felt what warmth she was able to muster, so he smiled back widely. Even with that display of affection, she still pressed on assertively. She handled her bones precisely as she passed the children, moving toward her main target. Walker.

April 1, 1002 ~ Daylight

Inside La Ropa, Criston felt a strange sixth sense coming over. He didn't know if it were the power of this new hand or just plain old intuition. But he definitely felt like he was being watched.

Far off in a high-rise building from out of town, a man smothered by his all black jumpsuit said into a microphone; "We have visual. Do not make contact. I repeat, do not make contact with the suspect. Remain vigilant. Standby for further direction."

Criston walked tactfully along aisle four with his carrier overflowing. He pushed the basket carrier by a long range handle that connected to the rest of the apparatus. The motion was directed by the turn of the handle as well the turnstile-like wheels on the bottom. It was similar to the carts at the food market, but much more nimble and supposedly chic, considering La Rop
a’
s predominantly a clothing store. Just a slight tap to the end of the handle, and the carrier would go careening into the next aisle.

He rounded aisle four with it slipping from his grasp. He caught the handle just as it banged into the carrier of some friendly looking women. He smiled politely, turning into aisle five. And up ahead, he saw a man glaring at him from behind the service desk. He was wiping the countertop, but staring at Criston as his hand moved around into in looping three-sixties. For a second, he didn't even seem to realize that Cris was staring back. -But when he did, his eyes dropped so fast that an alarm went off in Cri
s
’ mind. He knew they had him cornered.

He decided to play it off. He figured the least they suspected he knew of their intentions, the more shopping he could wrap up before whatever was coming — came along. Hopefully, his bankcard wasn't as frozen as the icy glares employees and patrons alike were throwing at him. Sena Hendrix had given him money to spend, but he preferred to use his own cash. He figured, Corinth is my son after all. I should foot the bill. Little did he suspect that it was the bill from One Stop Drop that helped them tracked down his stomping grounds. Some detective he is.

He had picked up several styles of clothes for his son. He knew Cory would be pissed that he didn't let him pick out his own school gear, but he figured he'd get over it. Anyway, the navy-blue and military-gray uniform he'd be wearing to every class would make the summer and winter clothes his dad bought him look like fashion's latest and greatest. Solely by comparison, that is, because Cris wasn't a well styled man or a good shopper. And he honestly didn't know what Corinth's personal style looked like. He knew his son used to like to skateboard, so he took it from there and ran with it. Everything else would simply be his best guess.

With a thunderous roar, the gates outside the shop windows unexpectedly began shutting. One by one, these protective barriers poured down over the outsides of the store windows, locking Criston, and indeed all the other people, inside La Ropa.

"Hey, what's going on now?" one innocent shopper called out from the front of the store. Without notice, the sinister looking guy behind the counter reached below, bringing back up with him an absorption gun. He took the butt of it, and slammed it into the custome
r’
s forehead. Blood spattered from his head like a gushing hot-spring. The man was down, and so too was Criston.

He instinctively ducked behind an ad for ladies underwear when he heard screams coming from the front door area. People were trying to get out, but were turned away by several figures dressed all in black. They pushed folks back as they forced their way through the double doors. A gaggle of goons burst inside with an oddly sullen ferocity. All disorganized with their dark dead eyes. They clogged the entryway as one man dared to pass them all.

"Move it, you fiends!" came an all too familiar voice. He shouted at his troops. "I'm coming through here." He straightened out the men in line that didn't look quite right. His mop like hair jostled around as he moved emphatically from side to side, attempting to step up a line of defense for the store's front doors.

Cris stayed crouched behind the underwear ad, counting his lucky stars he hadn't been spotted yet. He contemplated taking a look around. Just to survey his options and the conquerors of this expansive shop. He turned around and cautiously poked his head out from the side of the ad. He had a clear view to the storefront, down the main aisle. He saw everything that he'd anticipated. They were Squadron members. It was Geary.

The stomp of his steel-toed boots sent a chill down Criston's spine. The tap against the hard ceramic tile floors echoed throughout the now silent clothing store, full of customers. He traversed the smaller front aisles aimlessly. To no avail were his attempts to flush out what he came for.

"Where are you, Gambit? We know your here!" He scared the life out of a mother and her daughter as he slowly passed them in his heated rage. "Have you seen this man?" He held up a picture of Criston from Squadron records. Cris was decked out in full uniform, with all his commendations and other now useless awards pinned to the navy-blue attire he donned in the old photo. The lady-and her daughter shook their head
s
… the answer was no.

Geary kept asking people as he passed them. Growing more impatient with every, no answer, he received. "This ma
n—
is in this store! That I'm certain of. And yet you pigs pay so little attention to your surroundings that not one of you has seen him." He was standing so close to his prize. Pointing at all the defenseless customers with a condemning look in his large blue eyes.

His words actually calmed Cris. He heard Geary speak with that sort of frustration before. He knew he'd take his current plan no further. He'd get more extreme, but at least he wouldn't walk the ten to twelve extra feet it would take him to spot Cris. Geary was standing in the middle of the main aisle, nearly four yards from where Cris hid himself.

"So ... not only are you a dirty cop, Gambit! But you're also a coward!" he was shouting while circling in a three-hundred-sixty degree spin. He hoped his booming voice would reach Cris at whichever end of the store he was concealed within. "You're going to let innocent people get hurt, just so you can evade the law."

A frightened lady, clinging to shelves in the perfume section, looked up at her captor and spat her words down his throat. "You're the only dirty cop I see. I thought Squadron was supposed to be better than the locals. I guess corruption isn't picky."

Geary squinted dramatically, while he rigidly turned his face toward the woman. "You see this stupid chick, crouching in front of me, Cris?" Geary barely acknowledged the woman, though he was speaking of her. He was more focused on wherever Cris could possibly be. A few of the other men, who were
n’
t incapacitated by the El Muerte Vivo serum, were searching and miraculously coming up empty "Her bloo
d’
s on your hands now, buddy!"

The girl had a look of sheer terror on her face as people behind her backed away toward an emergency exit. Geary wasn't paying attention to them. He only wanted the girl for now.

A man pressed hard against the bar-handle to the emergency door. But before he could push out to open it, a Squadron member standing in an adjacent aisle whispered.

"Don'
t—
yo
u—
dare." Holding his hand-held absorption gun up, at face level. His black eyes made them all whimper as their escape plans were easily foiled.

Geary watched as the brave, but stupid, crouching lady trembled before him. He released his llave from his clenched fist. It immediately began rotating clockwise at his chest. He let out a visceral, and for Criston, gut wrenching, scream. "Fiat Lux!" The static red beam of light erupted from the rotation, approaching the defenseless girl at light speed.

But before Geary even wielded the spell, Criston threw a six-pack of women's underwear at his spinning llave. Unfortunately, his touch was a few degrees off. Instead of knocking the spinning key out of midair, which wasn't possible anyhow, it intercepted the light wave. The pack of undies immediately exploded when the two disproportionate forces collided. The collision sent ciders of fire whirling in crisscross directions throughout La Ropa. Nearly the entire store broke out in a heat wave of blazing lady undergarments.

The girl, being so close, got caught up in the blast. Her long ruffled skirt lit up like a bonfire. But she was smart enough to lay down flat and roll it out. She extinguished the fire and got up running. The rest of the store wasn't as lucky as her skirt. Everything was catching fire as the remnant of the panties collided with other plastics and clothing shelved down now flaming rows. The spreading Squadron members reassembled at the front door, where there were fewer blazes. This gave the former store patrons the opportunity to slip out through the emergency exit. And what an emergency it was. The entire store would soon be engulfed in flames, and all the windows were covered by grated gates.

Fortunately, everyone got out safe. Except Criston and the unconscious patron. Criston was conveniently trapped by the blaze ahead of him. He couldn't make a run for the front door, or simply slip out the side door with the others. Also, he was concerned about that unconscious fellow who took that hit to the head. Is he okay? Or was it already too late?

"Now, we're willing to put out this fire, Cris!" Geary yelled from the front. "We came here for you alive, not dead! All you need do is surrender." The ceiling tiles around the initial fiery outbreak started to cave. They came crashing down to the ground, but barely registered to Criston. Though Geary noticed promptly. "Now! Surrender now!" he pressed.

Cris didn't even consider it an option. He knew he'd be getting out of here alive and free. But what of the guy at the front of the store? He was the one in danger. Cris knew he couldn't just leave him. Then he'd be just as ruthless as Geary and Sebastian. He didn't like that thought.