Nightlights

Part 0: Disintegration

We like our new recruits young—twelve or thirteen at most. When they’re right on the edge of that precipice we call adolescence, we can still shape them. We can still help them. When they get older, it gets more dangerous. Take Ajax Holdren, for example.

Chapter 1: Bridge of Last Chances

i.

—damaged, selfish, conceited, obsessive thug. The girl finished her tirade and glared at Ajax, panting.

Ajax leaned on his open locker door and looked down at his fingers. He’d been ticking off the insults. We’re almost at jerk bingo, he said. He glanced up, met the furious gaze of his ex-girlfriend. Let’s see, he said musingly. Oh yes. He cleared his throat. Meredith, what was it, a week ago? When you were telling me how desperately you loved me? And now this? Wouldn’t you call it kind of… crazy?

For a minute he thought he’d succeeded in making her lose what remained of her dignity. But she drew herself up, brushed her hair away from her face and said calmly, Three weeks ago. And I call it closure. Enjoy being miserable and lonely, Ajax. She turned and stalked back to her friends, who gave her triumphant fist pumps.

Those aren’t even on the jerk bingo card! he called after her, then slammed his locker door shut.

Wow. What did you do to her? said one of the guys a few lockers down. Ajax didn’t answer as he slung his ragged canvas backpack over his shoulder. Dumped her as soon as she started to act like what we had was more than fun and games, he didn’t say, even though it was true. I have to get to my job, he said instead. I’ll tell you about it tomorrow. Use your imagination until then.

It wasn’t just an excuse. Meredith’s ‘closure’ had made him late for his job. He slipped out the side entrance of the high school, so he wouldn’t run into any of Meredith’s friends who wanted to pick up where she left off. Jerk bingo was always fun, but he wasn’t in the mood to deal gracefully with any more girls.

He jogged over to the hardware store where he worked, where he was met by his surprised manager.

Ajax. Didn’t you get my message?

Ajax narrowed his eyes. No.

I left you a message yesterday, man. We had to cut your hours. You don’t have a shift today.

What the hell? Why?

His manager shrugged. Times are hard, dude. We had to cut some hours somewhere, and you’re still a kid. Some of us here have families to support. He tried to clap Ajax on the shoulder, but Ajax jerked away. At least you still have some hours.

Yeah. Thanks, muttered Ajax.

Outside the store again, he fished out his phone and looked at it. It wouldn’t turn on, even though he knew the battery was charged. Great. But what could really be expected from a cheap hand-me-down from his father? And his father had probably gotten it from Leo, his scummy ‘business partner’ and housemate first.

He’d needed those hours. Most of the time, he had to buy his own clothes and his own food. He kept the food in his own fridge, too, because otherwise his father and Leo ate up whatever was in the kitchen fridge and relied on him to replace it. Just yesterday, Ajax had forgotten to lock his room and Leo had stolen Ajax’s last box of pizza rolls. Only after he’d shared it out among his cronies did he bother to go out to buy groceries for the kitchen fridge. Ajax never opened that fridge if he could help it; Leo’s smirking glee and his dad’s attempts to guilt trip him were too much to bear.

Ajax’s long strides had taken him halfway across the parking lot away from the hardware store before something ripped on his back, and his notebooks and gear spilled out of a new hole in his canvas bag. The wind gusted and papers blew around him.

Ajax let the bag slide off his shoulder, staring down at the mess of his life blowing away. It was too much. He kicked a textbook so it sailed across the parking lot, and a notebook until it vomited sketches into the wind. He stared at the drawing of Meredith that fluttered by, then started ripping pages out of the rest of his notebooks and crumpling them up. Finally he took his cellphone and hurled it after the textbook, hearing the skitter of shattering plastics with immense satisfaction.

Then he left, no longer weighed down by school, by a girlfriend, by a phone that didn’t work. If his boss had glanced out the front window of the hardware store while Ajax was making a mess, he might not be weighed down by a job anymore, either. He’d strained a muscle in his leg kicking the textbook so hard, but whatever. He just didn’t care.

He limped over to the nearest bus stop and caught the 181 across town, where he bought himself dinner at a greasy spoon. He found himself doodling faces on the napkins while he waited for his food: his aunt, his grandmother, his mother. When he realized he was drawing Meredith again, he tossed the pen aside.

After Ajax ate, his leg still ached and he wasn’t ready to go home and face Leo and his Dad. Not today. So he headed over to the 8th Street Bridge, which was a place he always found conductive to brooding. Had Meredith used brooding in jerk bingo? He couldn’t remember.

On his way there, he realized somebody was trailing him. A tall girl, with short pale hair, one he’d never seen before. And he would have noticed if he had, because she seemed kind of hot from the glimpse he got when he jinked to get a better look. Only a glimpse, because she stepped into an alley.

But when he started moving again, there she was again.

ii.

By the time Ajax arrived at the 8th Street Bridge, the girl had vanished again. Either she’d realized what a bad idea it was to approach him, or he’d been imagining it. He was darkly disappointed; another unpleasant confrontation with a pretty girl—probably one of Meredith’s friends—was exactly the cap to his day that he craved.

Rusted pillars loomed out of the river to cradle the bridge, a web of metal girders interlaced between them. The bridge platform wasn’t high enough over the water to be certain death for the occasional idiot jumper. But the upper girders of the bridge were tagged in places where no sane person would climb while holding a can of spraypaint. Local legend said the highest bit of graffiti was a heart, interrupted by a fatal fall before the artist could finish the piece.

Ajax limped out to the center of the span along the pedestrian lane, where the lights at either end of the bridge were dim reflections on the water. He thought about climbing up to the girder where he liked to lurk, but he didn’t trust his cramping leg to stay true. Instead he crouched down, dangling his arms over the crossed girders. Even on the hottest days the metal here stayed cool, as if the roar of the water below carried away all the warmth. He let the night enfold him, closed his eyes. He missed the days when he’d been puny, and bullied. When he could lay into anybody who touched him and it was always their fault.

A car sped past behind him, sounding hollow and frightened. He’d never felt that way on the bridge, even when he climbed up to look at the unfinished heart. It was something about the way the dark water rushed past, taking his every dark thought with it—at least on good days. On bad days, the very carelessness of the water laughed at him, and that was a comfort too.

The cramp in Ajax’s leg intensified. At the same time, he felt a stabbing pain in his side that radiated across his torso, so sharp that he gasped. He touched his side, felt the wet warmth soaking his shirt, saw the blood on his hand. What the hell? He looked around, fully expecting to see a car accident he’d somehow missed hearing behind him. Being hit by flying shrapnel seemed like the only explanation for the wound.

The road was empty of any cars. But at the far end of the bridge, the girl he’d seen before was sprinting toward him. A new idea occurred: maybe his spleen or something had exploded and he was dying. She could be an angel. She looked kind of like an angel, with her hair flaring around her face in a halo. Would he get an angel that pretty?

Then he realized she had a long blade in her hand and an unsettlingly intent look on her face. Oops, he muttered, and tried to swing himself to the other side of the pedestrian divide. He’d wished for a cathartic confrontation of some sort but he hadn’t imagined swords and spontaneously generated wounds as part of the mixture. That required replanning.

His feet weren’t responding when he tried to lift them.

Well, then. He sagged against the barrier and watched his angel of death approach.

She jumped and spun in the air, as graceful and controlled as a dancer. The sword, faintly curved and with a single edge, slashed out as she twirled. The blade flashed in the distant streetlights, connecting with nothing, slicing empty air. Then the girl rolled, rose to her feet and stabbed the bridge. The sword caught in a crack in the pavement and quivered.

Ajax stared at her. She was on the tall side, with an athletic build. Narrow hips, but nice tits. She stared back at him, her hazel eyes concerned. Her hair, fine and short, had just settled into place again when she shook her head and pulled the sword away from the bridge.

It’s okay, she said urgently. We can help. My name is Natalie--

Ajax started laughing. All he could think was that she thought he was a suicide risk. She was part of some kind of suicide hotline acting troupe. She was here to perform away his woes. Hilarious. Is that actually a katana?

She frowned. Are you still in pain?

That killed his laughter. Because he wasn’t. There was still an injury on his side, like he’d scraped himself climbing the bridge, and it hurt like any scrape would. But the cramp in his leg and the deep stabbing pain in his torso had both vanished.

I’m fine, he said. You don’t need to worry about me. I still like breathing. Go find somebody else to save. He gave her an encouraging little shoo with his bloody fingers.

Instead she stepped closer. How did you hurt your side, then?

I was in a knife fight earlier, but hey, you should see the other guy. Go on, get out of here before I get angry.

A look of surprise crossed her face before her brow knitted together. She took another step closer and Ajax resisted the instinct to back away from the sword still held casually at her side. Her nostrils flared. You reek of anima.

Anime? Me? Who’s the one with the katana? Who’s the one sniffing people? Ajax bared his teeth. I bet you’d look real hot in a schoolgirl outfit, maybe with some cat ears. Am I right?

She sighed. Not anime, anima. Okay, Mister Smart Guy. Let’s see you do this with your ‘knife wound’. She waved her hand with the sword. The katana turned to smoke and evaporated. Her hand was empty. The sword was gone.

iii.

Ajax looked at the pretty girl who’d introduced herself as Natalie, and her now empty hand. Then he shook his head, turned and walked away. He probed his side as he walked, trying to figure out how bad the gash was. It felt like something had ripped into him.

The girl couldn’t take a hint. She followed along behind him. Normally I’d let you walk away. I’m supposed to walk away myself. She paused, but when he steadfastly ignored her, she went on. But you’re going to end up dead if I do that. You’d be dying right now if I hadn’t caught up with you.

A dozen responses hovered on the tip of Ajax’s tongue but he was not going to engage. Girls with swords were trouble, even if they were hot. Girls who could make their swords vanish belonged in the kind of movies where idiots were the protagonists. They didn’t belong in the street, pestering him.

I mean, you have a ton of anima. That’s soul energy, if you care. Which, clearly you don’t. You know, even if you don’t care about your own death, you could care about others. That Awakened I cut off you wasn’t even your own! Other people are going to die if we don’t sort you out one way or another. Maybe worse than die.

And yet there she was, talking and talking and talking. Ajax was certain she’d follow him all the way home. That was tempting in its way, but could not be tolerated. He wondered if he could fob her off on one of his school buddies.

Come on, don’t be like this. I just want to talk to you. Explain what happened. Aren’t you even a little curious? Or has that died in you already?

He probably couldn’t.

Ajax whirled so suddenly that she almost ran into him. Go away. Leave me alone. I don’t care about your bullshit.

She stumbled backward, her eyes huge. Wow. Your anima is… intense, too.

You keep saying that, but I don’t speak crazy bitch.

She sighed and pulled a cellphone out of her pocket. When she dialed a number, Ajax took advantage of her moment of distraction, and started running.

The jarring turned the ache from his wounded side into agony, but he was in good shape and he managed a burst of speed anyhow. He wove his way deeper into the neighborhood before slowing down again. Gingerly, he probed his injury again. It was still oozing. He probably needed stitches, or at least to sit still and apply pressure.

There was no sign of the girl chasing him. He hesitated and then turned toward home. The faster he could vanish indoors, the less likely she’d be to find him again. He was less than a mile from his house. It was late, and not a good neighborhood, but he knew the place like the back of his hand. This wasn’t the first night he’d avoided going home until he was exhausted. He walked quickly, letting his side bleed instead of applying pressure. It was best not to appear wounded here, whatever the truth.

It had never been a nice area. There were only two kinds of yards: weeds trying to suck sustenance out of packed dirt fertilized by piss and rust and cigarette butts, and the groomed, perfect, carefully fenced yards maintained by old people with nothing better to do. It was amazing how fast the latter turned into the former when somebody died.

Crumbled old patchwork on the streets had been overtaken by crocodile cracking. Ajax stomped between two interlocking cracks, pushing the asphalt back into the new pothole. Old beaters lined the road. There were new cars in the neighborhood, too: sleek beasts that the local kids knew better than to touch. But even their cocky owners didn’t leave them outside on the street to tempt the night.

He turned left at the corner with the three mongrels on the other side of a chain link fence. The Beware of Dog sign had been edited: Beware of God. The dogs were all in the far corner of the yard, cowering and barking.

Ajax took note. Usually they were dozing at this hour. Whoever had spooked the dogs might still be around. He stepped into the shadow of a tree, leaning against the trunk, and listened. A car alarm going off in the distance. Voices raised in argument on the next block. A crying baby. A cat yowling.

The crunch of something moving over the broken asphalt.

Something came around the corner. Some sort of animal. A very large animal—Ajax’s first dizzy thought was: a zebra.

It was black and white, and moved on all fours, but there were claws on the big feet. It hunched close to the ground, snuffling at the pavement. A long tongue licked the road, and then it bounded forward to a glistening spot on the road ahead. It was maned like a lion, but as it crouched down again to inspect the wet spot, Ajax saw it had the face of a baboon.

It wasn’t striped, either; it was as dark as the road, with white frosting the tips of its fur, and running down each of its limbs. It looked like it was wearing a skeleton suit.

It licked the wetness on the asphalt again, and purred. The purr turned into a sighed word. Yessss… Then it lifted its head and looked directly at the tree where Ajax was hiding, and Ajax realized the wet trail it had been following was his own blood.

Chapter 2: Monsters

i.

Ajax stared at the monster tasting his spilled blood.

The monster. It was too large to be considered anything else, too large to be a mutant dog or an escaped monkey or anything sane.

It could see him in the shadows, but he felt safer next to the tree anyhow. And yet, something pushed him out. For a moment, it felt like a pressure against his back, like the shadow of the tree was forcibly ejecting him. But it was just his feet moving themselves, carrying him toward the monster in the middle of the street. He stopped himself just past the curb. What’s a thing like you doing in a place like this? Are you one of Katana Girl’s friends? I gotta say, nice costume, man.

It continued to stare at him, a long white tongue lolling out. Ajax picked up a pebble from the street and tossed it toward the creature. It didn’t move, didn’t seem to even notice. Then its huge nostrils flared.

So he scraped some of his blood off his injury and flung a droplet toward the creature. The baboon head turned, tracking the trajectory of the droplet, then snapped back to Ajax with a preternatural precision. It was not the movement of anyone in a costume.

It spoke again. So tasty… The monster’s voice was a growl that slipped up to a squeal on the final syllable.

Ajax took a step backward, and then his feet wouldn’t move anymore. It felt like he was up against a wall, like a warm breeze at his back obstructed his movement.

Make you bleed, swallow you down. Oh, it would be nice. The monster sighed. No, no, we mustn’t. Too much promise. Be patient! It snapped its teeth toward one side. It is valuable. Almost a Guardian. It could be ours.

Your precious? suggested Ajax, and looked around for a weapon. A stick, a big rock. A car near him had a taped-on bumper. He darted toward it, and something invisible hit him so hard he almost fell over. He staggered to one side, then crouched down to regain his equilibrium.

Careful, crooned the monster and padded closer.

There was a chill on Ajax’s injured side, and when he instinctively investigated, he realized that there was now no blood at all. It was like it’d been freshly cleaned, like something had licked every drop of blood away.

He looked up, fury finally crashing past the shock, the denial and the fear. He was in a circle of hungry, invisible observers, crouching across from something taunting him. It was almost like primary school again, and he knew exactly what to do. If this nightmare was going to kill him, he was going to go down fighting and happy.

He turned his crouch into a spring-powered charge at the monster. It had time to blink in surprise before he grabbed that white-tipped mane. He held on with one hand while he used the other hand to hammer on the giant baboon’s face.

The monster bellowed. A maw of fangs gaped, and Ajax promptly forced his hand in. You want to eat me? he rasped. Choke on it, you bastard. He grabbed something slimy and yanked as the teeth closed on his arm.

Its front paws came up to push Ajax away, the long claws shredding his clothes as it scrabbled. Ajax kicked it in response. He was smaller than the monster, but not by as much as he originally thought. A smile stretched his face taut.

The monster rolled its eyes wildly and opened its mouth again, coughing violently. One paw wrapped around Ajax’s throat while the other yanked Ajax’s fist from its mouth. Then, it stood all the way up on its back legs. It carried Ajax up as well, holding him by his throat and his arm.

Something invisible caught his shoe, needles slicing through the leather to prick his feet. The monster roared, Away! and Ajax’s foot was released.

Ajax dangled six feet above the ground, held at arm’s length by the monster. It now reminded him of a bear instead of a horse or a baboon. What are you? he croaked. His arm ached awfully, but it was still attached, which he counted as a win.

It coughed again, then spit out something wet and solid. I am Descry. A child, it growled.

Ajax tried to give it a once over from his awkward, okay, painful vantage point. I’m not seeing it. But he was disturbed. He was pretty sure he was in a nightmare of some sort, but if this thing was a child, it couldn’t be his nightmare. He was generally an asshole, he knew, but he tried to be nice to kids. Even when it didn’t work out to his benefit, dammit. He remembered too well what it was like, being small and weak, unable to influence the most important things in his life.

You would make such a good parent. Your children would be strong…

Ah. I’m wasting my introspection on you. Ajax brought his free hand up to brace against the grip on his throat. He was definitely feeling woozy, even though the monster wasn’t actively trying to throttle him. Not interested in kids of my own, sorry. Especially not with you. Life is fucked up enough.

He kicked the joint on the arm holding his neck, the most vulnerable part of the beast he could reach. The monster’s hand opened reflexively and for a moment he dangled painfully from one arm. Then he swung himself forward to kick the monster in the chest, and it released his arm.

He landed in a crouch on the ground, cradling his arm. He half-expected invisible claws to seize him, invisible teeth to rend him. But the warmth of his injury was flowing down his side again. He growled at the monster and set himself to charge it again.

But Descry backed off, with a coughing bark that Ajax realized was a laugh. It dropped to all fours again and galloped around Ajax in a circle, laughing and swiping at empty space. Then it spun and looked at Ajax again. See you later, my treasure. We’re going to have so much fun together.

The white in its fur darkened to black, and the pale glow around it vanished. Then, it was gone, leaving behind only a pool of black fluid where it had spat its blood on the street.

ii.

Ajax reached out to touch the liquid pooling on the street. It was heavy and thick, and much darker than his own blood. It crawled down his hand and clung like oil, but he could smell the bloody reek of it.

He stared at it, then swore and tried to wipe it off—first on the pavement, then a tree trunk, and finally his jeans. He left black smears everywhere but he only really succeeded in spreading it further over his hand. It was disgusting. At last he gave up and headed home, to soap and water.

His house was white, with a peaked roof and porch. There’d been a fence when he’d been younger but it had been torn down as the neighborhood worsened. The lights were still on, but avoiding Leo and his dad seemed like a trivial concern. Or at least it did, until he banged the front door open and Leo said, Hey! I just had that door painted!

Ajax ground his teeth together and shook black blood onto the new linoleum. It had been stained and curling forever, but Leo had replaced it one day. Ajax never knew you could scam new linoleum, but somehow Leo managed it. Jim, Ajax’s father, had loved it, of course. Leo was his golden boy.

What the hell, A! But Ajax ignored Leo, and went to the sink. In the fluorescent lights of the kitchen the blood really was black.

Leo followed him into the kitchen. His father’s ‘business partner’ was five inches shorter than Ajax, and five years older. Leo had carefully styled dark hair and a flashing white smile he used as punctuation. He and Ajax’s father Jim were partners in a number of get-rich schemes that always seemed to require a ton of computer equipment in the front room and Leo living in the spare bedroom, rent-free.

Where have you been, man? Your dad was getting really worried. And then you come in, banging the door, without even an explanation. What’s that on your hands? Been working on a car? Hey, my car needs some work done.

Shut up. The heavy duty soap and vigorous scrubbing got most of the crap off.

Hey, A. Don’t be like that, it was just a suggestion. I’ve got something better for you to do anyhow—

Shut. Up.

Leo narrowed his eyes. I’ll tell your dad you’re home.

Ajax returned to cleaning the black blood out from under his nails, working at them ferociously with a worn scrub brush.

Why are you being rude to Leo, Ajax? His father’s mild voice broke his focus.

Ajax refused to look up. He didn’t need to see his father’s weedy salt-and-pepper beard, his concerned, disappointed gaze. Ajax’s mother had always talked about how handsome his father was, and even now he had a tidy charm that convinced most people he was harmless.

Because he wouldn’t shut up.

His father sighed. He was just worried about you, kiddo. You stay out all night, you’re never around to help out at home. Leo had to buy groceries yesterday. He paused, waiting for a response that didn’t come. You could be making yourself useful to us but instead you run around town with your friends. Leo really thinks you have a lot of potential. I’d just like it if you could be respectful to my business partner. You could surprise me sometime.

Ajax clenched his hands on the edge of the sink to stop them from closing into fists.

So are you working on cars now? What happened to the job at the hardware store?

I quit.

From the door, Leo chuckled. You were fired, you mean. That attitude of yours. Well, it’s okay, A. We’ll find something to keep you busy.

Ajax’s father moved a bit closer, dropped a hand on his shoulder, and lowered his voice. I know you don’t like him, Ajax. But admit it, things have been better since we started working together. He has a lot of great ideas.

Sure, mumbled Ajax. He’s the son you wish you’d had. He ducked away from his father and went upstairs to his room.

His own line drawings were interspersed with posters, carefully papering over damaged walls. He drew monsters as easily as he drew girls he’d seen on the street. The room looked like a mess, but he had a system—not the careless system of people who can’t be bothered to clean up, but the system of someone who laid traps in the mess of cans and old books and CD cases, and who used the disturbance in the drifts to track when his space had been invaded. Only the desk was neat, with pencils, pens and stacks of paper carefully arranged beside an ancient laptop.

Ajax pulled clothes out of the box half-full of clean laundry at the foot of the bed and changed, taping up the wound in his side first. Then he stretched out on his naked mattress, kicking a blanket away.

He couldn’t get the black blood out of his head, even though he’d gotten it off his hand. It was still all over his jeans. What the hell was that thing? He stared up at the pictures of monsters on his walls, then got up and sat at his desk. First he sketched the monster that he’d fought. He stared at it for a moment then realized his hand had kept on working, sketching in more monsters around the edge of the page. He hadn’t seen any other monsters tonight, had he?

He knew he hadn’t. But his gaze fell on the tears across his shoe, and his hand touched the injury in his side, and he wondered if he was going crazy.

Ajax threw the pencil down and stood up. It was quiet and dark downstairs, and he knew where Leo kept his bottle of whiskey. A fair trade for all the things Leo had stolen, and how else would he sleep tonight?

iii.

Ajax stood in his father’s darkened bedroom, looking down at the gently snoring figure on the bed. Bastard, he muttered, and swigged from the bottle of whiskey. He wasn’t worried about his father waking up. His father never noticed anything unless it was something he could twist to his own benefit. He’d barely noticed the death of his wife, except as an inconvenience.

Ajax’s mom had died more than eight years ago and it was still painful to enter this room. There were traces of her left even now: the quilt his father slept under, the bookshelf with stenciled flowers that now supported his father’s trade magazines. Fading details. He always felt like a kid in this room, a kid with every landmark that defined his life washing away. Every time his father sent him to a relative for a while so he could ‘get his life together’ Ajax returned to find less and less of his mother left.

Only a few days before she’d stopped breathing, she’d breathlessly caught his hand and pressed it to her belly. He’d felt the kick of the new brother or sister with wonder. Her delight had overcome his worry over her lingering illness, for a day or so. Then it had become just another shade of grief and another angle on alone.

I don’t know why she loved you, Ajax whispered. She thought you were so wonderful, but look at you. Look at what she put up with. Ajax’s mother had hidden both her illness and her pregnancy from her husband as long as possible. They couldn’t really afford either, and she didn’t want to worry him—not when he had such big plans to work on. But she told Ajax it would all work out.

Love would make it work out.

Love was so stupid. Meredith had told him she loved him, too, and look where that had gotten her. And if he hadn’t driven her off, it would have gotten her worse.

A passing vehicle on the street outside sent a stray beam of light into the room, startling Ajax. He saw movement out of the corner of his eye, and thought of the monster. But it was only his reflection in the mirror over the dresser.

He thunked the bottle down on the dresser and leaned his face close to the mirror, studying his reflection. I’m not a monster, he told it. Then his eyes widened.

He was just like his father.

He shoved himself away from the dresser. Love was stupid, but he couldn’t stand the thought of turning into his father. He was already such a douchebag. If he didn’t end up dead from monster, where was he going to be in ten years? Twenty?

He picked up the whiskey bottle again, took another drink, found his answer. In ten years, he was going to be a drunkard who still lived with his loser father, if he wasn’t a loser father himself. Because he couldn’t walk away from this life anymore than his mother could. It was sick.

He walked out of his father’s room. Maybe there was a Losers Anonymous he could join? Probably not.

As he entered his own room, Ajax noticed the open window and the motorcycle parked outside before he noticed the girl. Natalie. She had the jeans he’d changed out of on her lap as she sat on his bed. Her sword was beside her, way too big for Ajax’s tiny room.

Natalie looked at Ajax as he entered the room. Or rather, she looked long and hard at the bottle in Ajax’s hand before transferring her gaze to his face. Under her stare, he flushed. That’s fair, he muttered. I deserve that. He sat down in his chair, and swiveled it to hide the bottle behind him.

What’s this from? she asked. She fingered the black stain on the jeans.

Monster blood. She raised her eyebrows, so he went on. It was the whiskey. Big thing, caught me out in the street. Face like a baboon. Some kind of yeti? I don’t know.

She was quiet a little too long, her eyes searching his face. Then, slowly, she said, Have you seen other monsters?

What? No! That was the first time I saw a god damned monster in the streets. It was big enough to pick me up and hold me like a kitten. He glared at her.

Her eyes widened and her face lost color. She bit her lip. I really hope you’re wrong. But the Awakened don’t leave blood behind… She turned her gaze down to the jeans again, then looked around. Is your family well?

Ajax was annoyed. She was the one with the vanishing katana, and she was disbelieving him? It chewed on my arm pretty good. He pulled up the sleeve of his shirt to show her the bruises in a ring around his forearm.

She tossed his jeans aside and stood up, the sword vanishing again as she grabbed at his arm. This is really not good. Her fingers were warm, her grip firm as she turned his arm to look at the bite mark. Ajax had a sudden, drunken urge to grab her in response.

A voice from the window drawled, Hope I’m not interrupting something.

Ajax looked over, into a flash of bright light.

The light filled up his eyes, and then filled up his mind. It pierced a veil, not just over his sight, but his memories. His mind careened back into the past, familiar moments from his life leaping up at him, filled with horrifying changes.

In the new illumination, he saw memories of his home, filled with monsters. Memories of his room, filled with monsters. Memories of himself, crawling with vicious, toothy, twisted monsters. They had always been there. All the way back, as far as his memory reached, the light showed him the terrors that had always been there.

In his mind’s eye, he again looked at himself in his father’s mirror. This time the reflection he saw was slashed and bleeding from dozens of injuries. This time he was clinging to life by only a thread.

Chapter 3: They Take

i.

How can it be understood? What metaphor could bring as much clarity as a single flash of light? His whole life he’d ignored what was right there. When Ajax was a small child, they’d been on the fringes of his day to day existence. After his mother died, they’d moved in, filling up whatever home he’d been sent to. They nibbled on him, day and night, and he never noticed. They attacked the people around him and those people didn’t notice either. Nobody ever noticed, but they were there. He could remember them now.

He'd covered his walls in his sketches of the monsters, the creatures he’d seen but never processed except through his pencil. His father’s house was usually crawling with them. They devoured each other sometimes. Earlier, a big one had been eating Ajax alive when the girl showed up. It’d held him against the bridge and torn into him, and he’d barely noticed.

But now all the monsters were gone. They’d vanished from the house shortly after he’d come home.

—a tall one, isn’t he? said a boy at the window. He tucked away a device he’d been holding, the source of the bright flash. Then he flipped himself over the edge of the window into the room. His feet thudded onto the floor and he gave Ajax a sleepy smile. It takes a while.

Seth, he saw a cambion, said Natalie.

The boy called Seth didn’t lose his smile, even as he shook his head. Not mine. Yours, then?

Don’t joke, Seth! A cambion running around means bad news!

Seth brushed himself off. We’re the only ones here. Who else could it be? Oh, I know—his!

Natalie opened her mouth, then paused to peer closely at Ajax. She picked up his arm again, and he curled his hand around her elbow.

Oh! You’re awake again already. I thought it took longer.

Ajax’s throat was clogged, like he’d never spoken before. He coughed, then rasped, Magic swords. Do you have magic healing, too?

Natalie blinked at him, then lowered her gaze to the bruise. Wounds are wounds. They all heal the same way. She released his arm and turned back to the boy. I don’t know, Seth. But I don’t think it works like that.

Ajax tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling. All right. So what just happened?

Seth said, I used this handy-dandy luminator on you. Strictly against the regs, of course, but Natalie asked so nicely. He was still smiling, as the situation was an ongoing joke.

Ajax finally really looked at the boy who’d appeared at his window. It only took a cursory examination to realize he was related to Natalie: the same build, the same face. His hair, the same pale shade as Natalie’s, had a carefully razored fringe constantly on the verge of covering his green eyes. He looked like the sort of clean-cut poser that Ajax traditionally scorned associating with.

The luminator does a couple of things, said Natalie. It activates the part of your brain that can see the Awakened, and it lets you put your anima to work.

The monsters are the Awakened? Awakened what?

Darkness. Awakened Darkness. Seth looked up at the pictures on Ajax’s wall. They’re called to a strong anima. Looks like they’ve been called to you for some time.

And what the hell was the point of waking me up to them? My memories are filled with nightmares now!

Hey, man, they were always there. Look at that nasty one. Seth flicked a finger toward one of Ajax’s oldest sketches. A snake with a man’s hairy arms and a caged heart in its torso coiled across the paper.

But now you can fight them, said Natalie. If you want to learn how.

Just pick up my magic sword and charge into the front lines, eh?

Seth’s smile flattened, as if the joke had gotten dull. Or don’t. Go back to your life. Draw your monsters. They’re mostly interested in kids, so when you get older, they might stop coming so often. Or, they might kill you. He shrugged. Natalie won’t always be around to save you.

Seth, don’t be a jerk. Natalie moved between Seth and Ajax. My sword is part of my own anima. Learning to shape a weapon is one of the first steps in learning to be a Guardian. So yeah, you’d start with a magic sword. There’s a lot of training before you end up on the front lines, though.

Ajax eyed Natalie warily. Guardians, huh? What exactly are the front lines?

Seth rested his arm on Natalie’s shoulder, and his head on his hand. Official name: Guardians of the Precipice. But we’re really just Nightlights, to chase away the darkness.

Natalie shrugged out from under Seth, then elbowed him squarely in the stomach. He staggered back, and she ignored him. We patrol. We fight the Awakened. They gather in places where humanity does, and without us, well… the darkness wins. Humanity doesn’t.

Ajax leaned back in his chair again, looking away from Natalie’s earnest expression. His gaze fell on the monster he’d encountered in the street before. Descry, it’d named itself.

What about this? He tapped the paper. I saw it before the thingamajig rewired my brain. It talked to me. He thought back, remembered —now—the circle of Awakened that had watched hungrily as Descry had played with him.

There’s another kind of monster, said Natalie slowly. Very rare. Intelligent and able to fully manifest. Anybody can see it, but it’s just as hard to hurt as the Awakened. You need an anima weapon to hurt those. I’ve never actually seen a cambion before. They’re supposed to be utterly savage. Why did it talk to you?

It wanted something from me.

What?

I don’t really know. I wasn’t paying close attention, because it was a goddamned monster in the street.

Seth and Natalie exchanged looks, which Ajax didn’t like at all. Seth said, There might be a bit of trouble over this.

I don’t care, said Natalie. Then she tilted her head. Listen.

Something crunched outside. Then a voice roared, Come outside, Boything!

It was