‘That wasn’t a rabbit or something in the bushes just now?’ Hector asked.
‘No, it wasn’t,’ said Garovel privately. ‘Not on the roof, either. Nor in the grass, right now.’
Hector hadn’t even noticed that last one yet, but sure enough, he turned just in time to see a patch of tall grass by the patio stop shaking.
‘The next house over,’ said Garovel. ‘Hurry. Now the people in that one have the aura, instead.’
Hector launched himself over the stone wall one more time, but before he even landed, Garovel was already amending his statement.
‘And now it’s gone...’
He kinda figured that might happen. ‘The hell is going on here, Garovel?’
‘I don’t know. Just be ready.’
“This is getting boring,” came an unfamiliar voice.
Hector looked around but saw no one. ‘Garovel?’
‘No, there’s no--’ The reaper cut himself short at the sound of muted whispering.
“No, just do something bigger,” said the same voice.
More whispers.
“Oh, what does it matter now? You’ve hardly been subtle. They clearly know something’s going on already. If you’re going to play with them, you might as well really play with them.”
“But we’re not supposed to,” came a new voice.
“Ha, look at him!” said still another. “He’s so confused!”
Hector’s eyes kept telling him that there was no one around, but he was beginning to get the picture. Garovel said it before he could, though.
‘They’re invisible. Even to me.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know.’
“Don’t worry, metal kid!” came yet another voice. “We’re not real! We’re all in your head! You’re going crazy, see?!”
“Pfft, he’ll never buy that now. Use your brain, you bloody idiot.”
A dark serial novel. Set in a modern fantasy world called Eleg. Mature language. Updates every day at noon PST by ~400 words.
Thursday, June 4, 2015
Tuesday, June 2, 2015
Page 1039 -- CXIX.
Chapter One Hundred Nineteen: ‘Shadows in space...’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
It had been nearly half an hour, and Hector was starting to feel rather uncomfortable about this whole waiting-outside-a-family’s-house thing. Garovel had stopped talking as well, which indicated to Hector that the reaper wasn’t feeling particularly comfortable in these strange circumstances, either.
‘Are you sure they’re still in there?’ Hector asked, not for the first time.
‘Yes. They’re watching television.’
‘You can sense that much detail?’
‘The way their souls are positioned together, all looking the same way. That, and if you listen, you can hear it through the wall.’
So he could. Hector took a breath and tried to settle himself again. He scratched his neck. It had been itching like crazy in the same spot for a while now, and the added nuisance of it wasn’t doing anything to calm him down. Really, though, it was all the unanswered questions that were bothering him.
The bushes along the side of the house rustled.
Hector and Garovel both looked.
There was nothing there.
He supposed it could’ve been an animal small enough to be completely concealed by the leaves. But Hector’s gaze lingered, and his ears worked overtime, listening for any other noises.
And a noise indeed arrived, this time above. Deep creaks from the roof, slow and repeating.
‘Footsteps?’ Hector asked.
‘I don’t sense anyone there,’ said Garovel.
Then came a hushed sound, too quiet to make out but distinct in its own way. A breath? A whisper? Or just the wind?
Hector placed his back to the wall and armored up. There was a very good chance he was just being paranoid, but there was no harm in playing it safe.
‘Garovel, am I going crazy?’
‘No, I don’t think so... unless I’m going crazy along with you.’
Click to display entire chapter at once -- (mobile link)
It had been nearly half an hour, and Hector was starting to feel rather uncomfortable about this whole waiting-outside-a-family’s-house thing. Garovel had stopped talking as well, which indicated to Hector that the reaper wasn’t feeling particularly comfortable in these strange circumstances, either.
‘Are you sure they’re still in there?’ Hector asked, not for the first time.
‘Yes. They’re watching television.’
‘You can sense that much detail?’
‘The way their souls are positioned together, all looking the same way. That, and if you listen, you can hear it through the wall.’
So he could. Hector took a breath and tried to settle himself again. He scratched his neck. It had been itching like crazy in the same spot for a while now, and the added nuisance of it wasn’t doing anything to calm him down. Really, though, it was all the unanswered questions that were bothering him.
The bushes along the side of the house rustled.
Hector and Garovel both looked.
There was nothing there.
He supposed it could’ve been an animal small enough to be completely concealed by the leaves. But Hector’s gaze lingered, and his ears worked overtime, listening for any other noises.
And a noise indeed arrived, this time above. Deep creaks from the roof, slow and repeating.
‘Footsteps?’ Hector asked.
‘I don’t sense anyone there,’ said Garovel.
Then came a hushed sound, too quiet to make out but distinct in its own way. A breath? A whisper? Or just the wind?
Hector placed his back to the wall and armored up. There was a very good chance he was just being paranoid, but there was no harm in playing it safe.
‘Garovel, am I going crazy?’
‘No, I don’t think so... unless I’m going crazy along with you.’
Monday, June 1, 2015
Page 1038
All things considered, Parson felt that Sair was on the right track now--not the safest track, perhaps, but the correct one. That was something so few of these political types seemed to comprehend. Always worried about avoiding conflict, but sometimes, conflict was necessary. Sometimes, a little bloodletting now prevented future disaster.
And Jackson was not a stupid man. Or even an incompetent one. But that was the kind of hard truth that the Radiant Sentinel would never be able to accept. As much respect as Parson had for this man, as much as the Vanguard needed more people like him, there were still some things that Jackson needed to be kept in the dark about. For the good of all.
“The other marshals will never agree to stop Blacksong,” said Parson. “Isn’t it about time you got on board with everyone else? Even your wife has a horse in that race.”
“That may be true,” said Jackson, “but Sanko is free to do as she pleases.” His expression hardened. “You, however, are not.”
Parson realized where this was going and had to stop himself from wincing.
“I have a job for you,” the Sentinel said, reaching down beneath his desk. He pulled out a box, and from it, he retrieved a pen and notebook and pushed them both toward Parson. “Actually, I have several jobs for you, but first, you will provide a full report of your activities in Sair. Spare no details.”
Parson frowned. Of course it would have to be handwritten. If it was sloppy, Jackson would no doubt force him to rewrite it. Or perhaps the marshal would just “accidentally” light it on fire.
“Once that’s done,” Jackson went on, “you will be handling the local call-ins and write-ins. You will investigate every request thoroughly, no matter how trivial it might seem. The point of this, in case that is not already clear to you, is to remind you of who it is the Vanguard is protecting. I’m sure a bit of time at the bottom of the ladder will do you some good. And of course, I will be expecting full reports on each of your investigations. Additionally--”
Parson’s frown only deepened as he listened. If he had one weakness that he’d never quite been able to overcome, it was paperwork. And boy, did Jackson love his paperwork.
And Jackson was not a stupid man. Or even an incompetent one. But that was the kind of hard truth that the Radiant Sentinel would never be able to accept. As much respect as Parson had for this man, as much as the Vanguard needed more people like him, there were still some things that Jackson needed to be kept in the dark about. For the good of all.
“The other marshals will never agree to stop Blacksong,” said Parson. “Isn’t it about time you got on board with everyone else? Even your wife has a horse in that race.”
“That may be true,” said Jackson, “but Sanko is free to do as she pleases.” His expression hardened. “You, however, are not.”
Parson realized where this was going and had to stop himself from wincing.
“I have a job for you,” the Sentinel said, reaching down beneath his desk. He pulled out a box, and from it, he retrieved a pen and notebook and pushed them both toward Parson. “Actually, I have several jobs for you, but first, you will provide a full report of your activities in Sair. Spare no details.”
Parson frowned. Of course it would have to be handwritten. If it was sloppy, Jackson would no doubt force him to rewrite it. Or perhaps the marshal would just “accidentally” light it on fire.
“Once that’s done,” Jackson went on, “you will be handling the local call-ins and write-ins. You will investigate every request thoroughly, no matter how trivial it might seem. The point of this, in case that is not already clear to you, is to remind you of who it is the Vanguard is protecting. I’m sure a bit of time at the bottom of the ladder will do you some good. And of course, I will be expecting full reports on each of your investigations. Additionally--”
Parson’s frown only deepened as he listened. If he had one weakness that he’d never quite been able to overcome, it was paperwork. And boy, did Jackson love his paperwork.
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