Static Reflections: Book 1 of The Mortal Guard Series

Chapter 7 - Boris: Inside Oblivion

Chapter 7 - Boris - "Inside Oblivion"

Boris' eyes opened, and he saw nothing. It was pitch black, and there was a cold feeling that prickled each strand of fur on his body. It was a somewhat familiar feeling, and he knew exactly where he was, especially when he felt that he was sitting and that his wrists were bound to a chair.

Behind his head, a spotlight switched on with a loud, echoing click. A ring of light appeared on the wall in front of the otter, painting his shadow there. Immediately, the shadow stood up from the chair and walked to the side, the shape morphing to look like it was facing Boris. "Still having feelings about the dog's old man?"

Boris gritted his teeth at that. "You already know I do. I have strong feelings about every kill."

The dark otter began walking along the wall, the chair's shadow behind him melting into the ground. "For some reason."

"I don't know how you can say that when it's still a life you're making me take," Boris glared, baring his white fangs. Everything around him was black, seemingly extending to an endless void that called to him, but the chair kept him grounded.

"A despicable life," the shadow hissed. "Travis was a bully and womanizer, and Tyler's grandfather was abusive. You've seen the bruises."

"Yeah, but . . . Tyler won't even talk to me now," Boris answered, trying not to break his teeth with how tight he was clenching them.

"My dear puppet," the figure laughed, walking to the wall to the right of him, becoming folded at the corner of the room. "You think he'll talk to you after you kidnapped him and murdered his grandfather in cold blood?"

"You made me!!!" Boris yelled.

"Did I? Or were you so mad about the treatment of the dog and the insults that you killed him?"

"Absalom," Boris responded, in a warning tone, despite knowing he could do nothing.

"Think about it, Boris. You were filled with rage and let that control you, not me. He was attacking you, after all. Some would say it's self-defense."

"But I didn't want to." Boris shook his head.

"Sure," Absalom answered. "Anyway, that's not why I brought you here this time." Boris was silent but watching. "I wanted to introduce you to someone."

"Another target?" the otter asked, adjusting in his seat uncomfortably.

"No." The shadow turned on the wall. Out in the darkness, there was a scraping sound against the ground, as if a chair was being dragged across the floor. Out of the black, a small wooden stool with a strange object on it slid into the scene, an invisible spotlight illuminating it from above. On either side of Boris, long wooden legs glided along the ground as Absalom continued to walk back to the front wall. From the left and right sides, two arms skittered toward the stool along with the legs—the appendages attached to the thing on the seat, which Boris now knew was a torso.

A canine-shaped head was lowered by the neck on a noose from the light above, connecting with the body. The now-created figure slumped over, and Boris was afraid that it would move at any moment. The noose lingered overhead.

"This is King," Absalom gestured. "Well, a substitute for him."

"What?" Boris furrowed his brows.

"I don't have enough power to bring more than one animal here at the moment," Absalom explained. "I still don't understand why . . . but I digress. This animal is perfect in every way. I must bring him here."

"Perfect? How do you know?" Boris questioned.

"That last kill you did gave me some more power, especially because it affected the canine. It allowed me to sense this male, King. He has an energy that I deeply crave."

The otter swallowed. "What kind of energy?"

"We're yet to find out," Absalom chuckled. "I need more power to bring him here."

The wooden thing shifted, and its head lifted, the hollow gaze meeting Boris's. The eyes were sharp, and the snout wasn't too long, nor too short, with a nose that was just right at the end of the muzzle. The face was genuinely perfect, and Boris admitted it inside. Absalom was right. "Oh, god, and that means . . . ." Boris sighed.

"Yes," Absalom clapped his shadow hands, and the noose lowered, wrapping around the doll's neck and lifting it off the stool. The arms swayed, the heels dragged along the ground, and the toes pointed downward as the puppet lifted away, disappearing into the light above.

". . . . What now?" Boris asked, with no feeling.

"I suppose I lied about there being no target this time," Absalom said, a smile in his voice. "Amaranthe Snowe."

"Quite a name . . . ." Boris whispered.

"Tell me, do you like parties?" The shadow mustelid asked.

"Not particularly," the regular otter said. ". . . Not at all."

"Considering your history with them, it makes sense," Absalom said. "Which is why I'm sending you there!"

"Of course," Boris muttered.

"And the best part? It's a rave! You're going to have a great time!"

"No . . . not another public kill," Boris groaned. "The Mortal Guard's already after me!"

"Too bad. Amaranthe Snowe is the target, and he will be at a rave tonight. And his head will roll."

Boris sighed heavily. " . . . And if I don't?"

"This again?" Absalom groaned, the shadow on the wall hunching over.

"You said you don't even have enough power to bring two animals here," Boris explained. "How much can you really do?"

Absalom froze. "What?"

"You're weak right now."

"AM I?!" The voice boomed, and the dark figure lurched, another shadow stepping out from it. "You want to know what I'll do if you don't obey me?"

Boris stared, wide-eyed. The new shadow wiggled and shifted, turning into a deer with an outline of a dress on its body. A familiar-looking blade extended from Absalom's hand. He quickly reached up and grabbed the deer's antler, slicing through the shadow's neck and holding, lifting the dripping head as if it were a prize he had just won.

Another body extended from that head, and the skull was now a bunny held by the ears. Absalom turned around and stabbed the shadow's chest. He pulled it out, and then the form shapeshifted into a hyena, Absalom bringing the knife into the top of its cranium as flecks of shadow flew from the entry point. The shadow stumbled, and its head went limp on its shoulders, morphing into the final shape of Tyler. Absalom threw the blade away and grabbed it by its neck.

"If you disobey me . . ." The figure struggled in his shaking grasp. The room burst to life, many pairs of identical shadows appearing frozen around. And then the room was spinning like a zoetrope, the shadows becoming animated and Tyler's head bursting into dark gory pieces and reforming again and again all around Boris. "I'll kill everyone you love. You'll kill everyone you love. Mark my words. And then . . . you'll kill yourself."

Boris's heart was too weak to argue, and he just nodded, the room going black again and Absalom absorbing the shadow of Tyler into his arm. "Then we understand each other. Now, wake up and get going." And with that, Boris vanished from the seat before he could even get a word out.