Demon and the Fox - 14. Awake in a Dream

The storm broke out just as Nick gave up trying to find his way out of the forest.

He still had no idea where to go, but he had thought escaping this god forsaken forest of doom would be a great start. It was worst than a maze, though. Try finding your way out of the woods when every freakishly tall black tree looked the same, and when you felt like you’d been walking on the same patch of dried up brown leaves for hours. Try finding the North with no sun or moon; just this depressing dark gray cloud that stretched out forever.

And now rain poured down like a giant faucet had been turned on in the sky.

“Perfect timing,” Nick muttered to himself.

Nick found a hollow tree trunk and crawled into it for shelter, throwing his arms around his knees.

Was this the storm? Was he supposed to get to the tournament?

Nick started as he heard the roar of thunder and saw lightning pierce the sky at once. And more kept coming, lighting up the dark forest in white-hot flashes.

So this was probably the storm. Nick figured it wasn’t the best idea to remain glued to a tree trunk right now, but he was reluctant to stand unprotected in this rain. Never before had he witnessed rain pouring so damn hard. Nick jumped out of his skin every time he heard another roar of thunder.

How was he expected to get to the tournament in the first place? No one had given him the location. Nothing even seemed to have a location here. You just had to find things. Or things found you. Nick thought of using teleportation, but he hadn’t even tried it once since he’d gotten out of Purgatory. From what he knew, you were supposed to have a pretty clear idea of where you were going. That was the basics. So what if it didn’t work and Nick ended up in limbo, in some kind of black hole between dimensions?

Not for the first time since he’d died, Nick wished he could write. At least, it would give him something to do. It would go like this: Death Diary. Entry number one. Date: Who knows? Dear diary, I am currently lost in a forest, when I should really be heading to a tournament that might eventually lead to a chance of getting my body back. If I become a Reaper, then a Dark Angel, I might be powerful enough—anyway, don’t ask, it’s complicated. Since there is no way of telling time here, they announce the beginning of the tournament with this absurd and frankly, rather inconvenient storm. All this thunder and all those lightning bolts are really getting to me; see, when I died, I got stabbed in the heart then struck by lightning. I suspect a bit of PTSD is at play here. Also, it would be rather anticlimactic to get struck by lightning again—and then what? Be even deader? Or go back to Purgatory to get tortured by Olivia? And worst, to hear about her dead brothers all over again—

A sound cut through Nick’s inner musings. Not thunder. A familiar bark, sharp and clear. Nick narrowed his eyes and saw a four-legged shape running between the trees and coming toward him.

Nick’s heart leaped as he crawled out of the hollow tree. “Koda!”

He welcomed the tall husky with open arms and reflexively scratched his ears. They were black on the outside and white on the inside. And all wet right now. Just one second in this rain and you were soaked.

Nick asked, “How did you know where to find me?”

Koda’s brown eyes looked at Nick. A husky with brown eyes. Nick didn’t think he had ever seen that before. Koda was moving away from him, and his barks became insistent. Then he took off.

“Hey, wait!” Nick ran after him. He didn’t want to be alone again.

The rain blurred his eyes and made it impossible to see clearly, even with the Hell night vision he seemed to be equipped with. Plus Koda’s fur was black. Seriously.

Somehow Nick managed to miraculously keep the dog in sight. It helped that Koda stopped and waited for Nick to get back up every time he tripped over some treacherous tree root hidden beneath the leaves.

Nick ran until he could barely feel his legs, and then he kept running anyway. He didn’t want to lose Koda.

“Where are you taking me you crazy dog?” Nick shouted over the rain.

Countless scratches marked his skin from all the branches whipping at him, and his knees were bruised from toppling over the slippery bumps in the ground over and over. But he didn’t stop, even though his lungs were on fire. Even though the rain was freezing cold and every drop was like a needle stabbing him.

When Koda halted abruptly Nick almost collapsed into him. But he came to a stop in time, bending his knees and thrusting a hand to the wet ground to steady himself.

“Why’d you stop?” Nick asked, catching his breath.

The pause was welcome, but they were still in the middle of the woods. Nick was beginning to think that there was no end to this forest. He felt like he was stuck in yet another dimension. There were three of them, Nick thought: Purgatory, Hell, and now Black Forest of Doom.

Nick looked at the sky with a frown; all of a sudden the storm was clearing up. He realized he hadn’t heard thunder in a while. And now the rain came down to a drizzle, before stopping completely. Did this mean the tournament was officially starting? Nick felt a pang as he recalled what Jun had said.

Don’t disappoint me. You better show up.

So much for that, now.

Koda was barking again.

“What?” Nick snapped at him.

He watched as Koda advanced between two thin black trees and vanished.

Wait, what?

“H-Hey? Koda? What the—?”

Nick moved to the spot where the husky had disappeared with prudent steps. He came face first into something solid, like an invisible wall. He placed his palms flat against its cold, hard surface, but he couldn’t see anything.

“Koda?” he called again.

A feminine voice answered. “Nicholas? Come in, what are you waiting for?” He recognized Jun’s slight Chinese accent.

He could lean against the wall and hear her voice coming through, but all he could see was the forest stretching out before him.

“How?” He retorted.

Nick thought he heard a short, irritated sigh, and then he lost his balance; what he’d been leaning on wasn’t a wall, but a door. Jun opened it, and closed it after he’d fallen on the other side. She grabbed his arm and pulled him up with a strong hand.

The forest was gone. They stood face to face in the center of a tiny stall, with a curtained doorway opposing the door Nick had just crossed. He had no interest in going back through that one, so instead he eyed the thick brown curtain. Light spilled in from under it, and Nick reached forward at once. After so much darkness, he wanted to see the light. He couldn’t help himself. But Jun stood in his way, crossing her arms over a bright red crop top, and arching an eyebrow.

“Get dressed first. You’re late.”

Her kohl-lined eyes glanced to the side at a bench holding a neatly folded black and red shirt. And next to the shirt, his sword.

“Black and red,” he said. Just like his sword. He picked up the blade and unsheathed it. “How’d it get here?”

Other than her bright top, Jun’s get-up was all black; tiny sneakers, short shorts, and leather arm cuffs. Her hair was slicked back in a high ponytail.

“Cyan brought it here.” She looked up at him through long black eyelashes, her expression unreadable. “He told me what happened. Weigh your priorities, Nicholas. What do you care most about? Being angry at your friend for sleeping with your boyfriend—because apparently everyone in this story is gay—or getting your life back as soon as possible? Your human body is still alive.” Jun’s stare hardened. “Don’t let Malachy live your life for you.”

Nick nodded, his jaw set. He put down the sword.

“Where’s Koda?”

“He went to join Raven and Cyan. Their seats are in the bottom rows. You’ll see them when you come out. I’ll be sitting in the bleachers with the other judges, ready to be humiliated,” she added.

Nick was taking off his shirt. The wet fabric wouldn’t come off easily, but he managed.

“Thanks for the pep talk,” Nick told her before grabbing the clean, dry shirt. The touch of red was subtle; just two bright lines on each black sleeve. A wide line and a thin one.

Jun ignored his sarcasm. “I like your tattoo,” she said, glimpsing the fox tribal design on the left side of Nick’s chest just before he slipped the shirt on.

“Thanks.”

It was all healed up now. He would never forget the way Liv had mutilated it in Purgatory, but it didn’t matter anymore. Cyan had talked about bending reality earlier, and how Nick didn’t seem to be using those abilities anymore. It wasn’t entirely true. The first time Cyan had brought him to his crypt, and as soon as Nick found himself alone, he stood in front of the mirror to look at his tattoo. He willed it to heal then. Nick visualized his tattoo healing, and it did.

“Whenever you’re ready, kid,” said Jun, snapping him out of his thoughts. “Everybody’s waiting for you.”

She flapped the curtain open and strode out of the stall. What Nick saw before the curtain fell back into place amazed him and frightened him at once.

The stadium was so blindingly bright. It was beautiful. And it hurt Nick’s eyes, too, after so much darkness. He didn’t know if there was some kind of magical giant spotlight installed in the stadium’s high ceiling—they probably didn’t have electricity around here—but he didn’t care; it was so bright it imitated the real sunlight.

Two things scared him though. First, the fact that there were so many people. The stadium was huge, like some kind of Roman coliseum. Rows upon rows of seats full of people circled the large open area dedicated to fighting. Which led to the second thing responsible for the sinking feeling in Nick’s stomach: his opponent stood there already, waiting.

This was all happening so fast. He wasn’t a freaking gladiator. What was he supposed to do? Why did he have to be one of the first contestants fighting?

A disappointed roar came from the audience. Right. Nick was late.

Great. They hated him already.

Nick looked behind his shoulder at the door, wondering if it still led to that forest. Those black trees and brown leaves didn’t seem so bad now.

He shook it off, grabbed his sword, and pushed open the curtain, stepping into the light before he could change his mind.

Nick’s opponent was a lithe, dark-skinned girl with a snug green outfit and a myriad of brown braids falling on her shoulders. Also she held two swords. Two swords. Why two? Nick only had one. No one had told him that his opponent might have two swords.

They stood in the middle of the flat piece of land on which they were supposed to fight. It was very dusty; it got in Nick’s eyes even as he stood motionless. Well, at least he was used to it, with Cyan’s sandy training ground. Nick didn’t want to look up and search for Cyan and Raven in the bottom rows. He didn’t want to see them.

Instead Nick looked to the side at the panel of judges. There were five of them. Jun sat in the center. They were seated behind a long, narrow desk made of dark wood and lined with gold. The desk’s legs were in the shape of angel wings. Each judge had sheets of paper and a pen to take notes.

Nick nearly dropped his sword when he recognized the judge sitting at the far right of the desk. Neat dark gray suit, navy tie, strong jaw line, contempt expression, not a short brown hair out of place. Louis. He sat very straight and still, like he was taking part in a living statue contest. Then Nick’s eyes recognized another face. Not one of the judges, but someone sitting in the bottom row just behind them. A short, thin guy with golden brown skin and spiky brown hair, and a smirk dancing across his lips. That was Lucas. The man who had killed Nick.

Their eyes met across the arena. Lucas didn’t look surprised to see Nick. He just kept on smiling. He wore navy clothes. The same color, Nick noted, as Louis’s tie.

Lucas’s gaze flicked away from Nick, looking instead at someone sitting in the seats behind Nick’s opponent. Nick glanced up without thinking, wanting to follow Lucas’s stare. And of course he saw Cyan.

Cyan and Raven sat side by side, both swathed in black except for a hint of red here and there. A red scarf around Cyan’s neck, and red armbands around Raven’s wrists. Koda sat between them. At least they hadn’t given him a red bow, or anything.

Nick was okay with Cyan and Raven being humiliated if the girl in the green outfit defeated him: they were idiots for rooting for him in the first place. But Nick didn’t want Koda to be humiliated.

Cyan’s gaze fell upon Nick, and Nick looked away.

Jun was standing up. She said, “The Reaper tournaments begin. First fight: Nicholas Russell versus Laurel Mitchell.” Jun sat down, grabbing her pen.

There was a roar of applause and cheering coming from one section of the audience. They were sitting high up, but they were making their presence known, and they were all wearing green. Miss Laurel had brought her fan club.

The stadium was built in the shape of a dome. Its top part shone so brightly that looking up for too long hurt Nick’s eyes. He brought his attention back to Laurel and her two swords.

She had started to move, very swift, knees bent low, edging toward him as her braids bounced against her shoulders. Her green sneakers stirred the dust as she struck first; her two swords lashed out one after the other. Nick ducked one, and blocked the other with his black steel blade.

Laurel spun on her heel and attacked from the other side. Nick parried one sword, but the other slashed his waist. He hissed and stepped back, pressing a hand to his stomach. Blood spilled from his fingers.

They heard cheers from Laurel’s friends up there in the stadium.

She came closer to Nick, and he thought she would lash out at him with her swords again, so he held his own blade up to ward her off. But Laurel dropped in a crouch and extended one leg, and all in one swift movement she whirled her leg around herself. With the momentum, her foot kicked the back of Nick’s ankle and sent him sprawling backwards. His head burst in pain as it collided with the hard dusty ground, and he saw black.

Nick’s vision cleared up in time to see that Laurel was bringing a sword down on him. He rolled over and her blade only grazed his shoulder. Nick leaped to his feet, breathing hard. His boots stomped the ground as he raised his sword to meet Laurel’s blade in a metallic clash. She stared at him hard with her big brown eyes. She crossed her second sword over the first one to push toward Nick with both arms’ strength. Nick held his sword’s hilt with both hands to counter her attack’s weight.

While Laurel was distracted, Nick lifted a leg, bent it, and kicked her in the stomach. And as she staggered back, Nick’s blade found an opening in her defense. He slashed at her, aiming for her waist, but she jumped back quicker than he’d expected and he got her thigh instead. Still, now they were both bleeding. Thick red drops stained the white dust.

More cheers from Laurel’s fan club. They were encouraging her.

Laurel’s leg injury didn’t seem to bother her, whereas Nick had lost a lot of blood. The gash in his waist ran deep, and he wasn’t sure he could hold his ground very long. The pain wouldn’t be ignored; his ears buzzed, and his vision was flecked with black. This wasn’t good.

He thought of Jun, with her red top and black shorts. Wearing his colors.

Again, Laurel slashed at him with her swords. Nick evaded and blocked, but barely. His sword hand was trembling.

This was ridiculous. Nick couldn’t win. Not like this.

Ready to be humiliated, Jun had said.

What if she didn’t have to be?

Nick parried Laurel’s next attacks, his black blade gleaming in the vibrant light of the stadium. Metal against metal, clashing, and clashing. Dust stirred and rose all around their feet. Nick was on defense mode. Even though she had two swords, Laurel was nowhere near as fast as Jun with her strikes. Nick was starting to see patterns in Laurel’s attacks. She wasn’t creative; she just always repeated the same moves. Her arms always held her swords in the same angle.

Laurel was starting to get frustrated. She let out small cries as she lashed out at him. She was impatient, Nick could tell. But he blocked all of her attacks as they moved in circles in the center of the arena; he wasn’t letting her back him into a corner. From the corner of his eye, Nick saw heads popping out of curtained stalls all around the fighting grounds. Other contestants looking at their performance. An apprehensive silence filled the entire stadium. It was easy for them, Nick thought darkly, to just watch the fight like that.

Nick could hear Laurel’s heavy breathing, and his own. They were stuck in a pattern—Laurel attacking, and Nick matching her speed and blocking her every move in a steady rhythm. And a part of Nick’s mind was focused on something else. His stomach wound. He was letting himself feel the pain. It consumed him, and he felt it through his entire body, down to his fingertips and toes. But then the pain gave way to a tingling sensation, and Nick could see perfectly clearly again. The pain was gone. His shirt was still stained with blood, but the skin under it had mended. Even the scar was fading. And Nick didn’t stop there. He could also feel every scratch and bruise on his body healing.

Laurel had paused, staring at Nick’s stomach wound—or lack thereof. Her thigh was still bleeding where he had slashed her, and he could tell it was starting to bother her. She had begun to limp a bit. Sweat trickled down her brow as she looked up at Nick.

“How did you do that?” she asked.

Her voice was high-pitched but soft, and she had the London accent. Hearing her speak troubled Nick. It made her more human. More real. Nick stared at the blood dripping down her leg. He had done that to her. If he killed her here, would she disappear completely? Would she end up in Purgatory to get tortured by sadistic guards like Liv and Lance? Either way, he didn’t wish that fate on anyone.

Nick let his powers flow through his body. He welcomed the adrenaline rush. The fire in his veins, and the tingling sensation in his every nerve. It was like the world shifted to a slightly different frequency. Laurel’s breathing was in slow motion. Her fingers gripping her swords seemed hesitant. Nick could see everything, hear everything.

The powers were not Malachy’s. He might have inherited them from Malachy, but they were Nick’s powers, and he would not be afraid of them. But, he would not be like Malachy, he decided. He would not kill people if he didn’t have to.

Nick’s grip on his sword became sure and strong, his palm sinking into the feel of the red snake carved around the hilt. He visualized the blade as an extension of his arm.

Mere seconds had passed. Laurel was still staring at the healed skin through the gash in Nick’s shirt. The scar was completely gone now. As if she had never slashed him.

She looked scared. “How’d you do that?” She insisted.

Nick remembered Cyan teaching him for the first time. Feel beyond the pain. It’s amazing, you’ll see. It’s like an optical illusion. If you look carefully enough, you can see that there is more than one reality.

“I had a good teacher,” Nick answered. His voice sounded different, even to his own ears. More assertive, and calmer.

Laurel frowned and swept the air with her swords, jumping toward him to attack once more. Nick studied her angles. She was too slow. He shifted slightly, bending his knees, and he swung his blade to meet one of hers. His aim was precise, and his sword hit hers near the hilt with such power behind the blow that she dropped her weapon with a start.

Her other sword never hit home, either. Nick propelled one leg up in a roundhouse kick that hit her wrist—one of Jun’s favorite moves—and Laurel dropped her second blade. It clattered down and came to a stop a few feet away from her.

Laurel made to scramble for it, but again, she was too slow. Nick got there before her. Before she knew what was happening, he hit the back of her head with the hilt of his sword. Her knees buckled and her body went limp before collapsing on the ground in a cloud of dust. She was passed out, but she wasn’t dead. Her body didn’t disappear in a veil of black smoke like when Nick had killed Liv.

Nick didn’t look at the audience. He made his way back to his stall quietly. He saw two people coming out of a room behind the judges’ panel with a stretcher. They made their way to Laurel. Nick exchanged a glance with Jun and saw that she was smiling. He nodded at her before disappearing behind his curtain. He didn’t look at Louis, or anyone else.

No applause came from the crowd. No cheering. Just a bewildered silence.

When they had trained together, Jun told Nick that the tournament fights were usually to the death. But it wasn’t mandatory. She said to ignore the crowd; only the judges mattered. And that the judges usually appreciated someone that spared their opponents if they could.

Nick sat on the bench, resting his sword on his thighs. As he glanced to the side, he saw that the door leading to the black forest was gone. A bland wall stared back at him. Nick shook his head, and he was smiling for some reason. Strange world. He felt like he was caught in a dream. The curtained doorway was now the only way out of the stall. He looked down at the light that spilled out from under the curtain, letting his body relax. The adrenaline rush quieted down, but he knew it was there if he needed it.

He didn’t care if the crowd didn’t cheer for him. He really didn’t. Bunch of bored dead bastards, anyway.

Jun had been smiling. She believed in him. She was on his side.

Don’t let Malachy live your life for you.

Nick waited for his next fight.