Dog Fights

Chapter 10; Smoke and Mirrors

A loud bang rings from downstairs, making Leon jump and take a quick breath. "Hide," he hisses, dragging Ezra to the corner of his room. He pulls open the closet door, dropping and hiding below the hanging clothes. Ezra yanks his arm free, looking down at the human.

"Ezra!" Leon pleads, kneeling and holding out his hand, "please! My family has been over what we'd do if there was ever an emergency- that was my signal to hide. Something is down there that my father thinks I need to hide from. Please stay with me."

Ezra looks down, arm blocking his chest as he refuses to move. Is this what the conductors saw when they stood over broken fighters, grinning as they shake and bleed? How did they find joy by the fear in their eyes?

"P-Please," Leon begs, arm drooping slightly, "if it's someone here for you- going downstairs would make it even worse. They'd just be able to call in that we're hiding you and send more people. M-My parents would want you to stay with me. They don't care if you were a fighter, you're still a kid."

Ezra hesitates, seeing tears rolling down Leon's face. No one has ever called him that before.

Ezra reaches forward, grabbing Leon's hand and ducking into the closet. He turns after kneeling, grabbing the door and pulling it closed. It goes dark in an instant, Leon's quick breathing hitting his hypersensitive ears. The dark always seems to trick his senses into heightening, sometimes enough to give him a migraine. Now he only sees slivers of light through the small crack between the two doors, so still and quiet he can hear Leon's pulse, as well as a single pair of footsteps downstairs.

"Ezra? Ezra! Answer me!"

Ezra looks down, not realizing he's still clutching Leon's phone in his hand. Clover's panicked voice shouts on the other side, making him hold the phone to his ear. "What?" he hisses, keeping his voice quiet and trying to listen to both the speaker and any shuffling. Only one pair of feet walk the house.

"Oh thank the gods." Clover breathes, voice shaking. "Ezra, listen to me. You have to protect that family; I know you're with them right now. I just think your phone died but when we couldn't get a hold of you and got the report of you on TV, we got worried and sent out Rin, Amelia, and Gabe. They captured Rin after a big blow out in the middle of the city, and I'm thinking they're using her to get to you. She's an illusionist- they can force her to disguise them and mess with you or the others. Don't let them fool you. Keep them safe."

The phone cuts.

"Ezra," Leon stutters quietly through his tears, shaking his arm, "someone's coming up the stairs. I-It's not my parents- they're supposed to call for me if everything's okay. Someone's coming for us-"

Ezra raises his hand to cover Leon's mouth, muting his panicked babbling. His heart rattles louder, eyes wide and unseeing in the dark. Ezra leans forward, letting his hand slide down into the younger's. His muscles shake with how tense they had gotten.

"...Promise me, that whatever you see me do tonight," Ezra whispers, feeling Leon's hot breath against his face, "you won't think of me as a monster afterwards."

Ezra freeze as Leon pushes forward and wraps his arm around his neck; the bedroom door creaks open; a silent promise. He pulls back slowly, as if taking his next breath will alert the intruder to where they are.

Ezra's chest tightens, each step the person sets down resonating in his ears. They pass the closet, maybe checking under the bed, or between the dressers. Whatever they're doing, they're taking their time.

Ezra shifts as quietly as he can, smelling Rin's magic become stale in the air. It's being used to cloak whoever had gotten into the house, making them look like a different person, or not a person at all. Whatever Ezra is crouched and ready to pounce on, he doesn't know. The pressing of old memories stuff his throat, making his mouth dry. With the closer the intruder gets, the more Leon tightens into the corner, and the more Ezra's lips curl up in unseen warning. He fights down the urge to let a growl rattle in his chest, knowing that's probably what the hunter wants.