Whispers of Nowhere

Chapter Twenty-Four: Part One

"So you came after all, guardian." A woman with dark, curly hair stepped forward, swathed in lavender silk from one shoulder all the way down to her open-toed stilettos.

That's Iris, Gwen realized, unconsciously taking a step backward.

As if she'd heard her thoughts, Iris turned to look at her. Deep brown eyes shone in the dark, magenta lips curling at the corners. There was nothing friendly in that smile; just cold, predatory desire.

Reeves moved to stand beside her. His shadowy form slipped from his shoulders like a shroud, revealing his physical body underneath. Brilliant white teeth flashed in a menacing grin.

Gwen shuddered at the sight, remembering the last time she had seen that expression. Kneeling next to Forneus as he lay in a pool of his own blood, Phenex standing guard over them and swearing to Reeves that he'd never win; not so long as he was around.

Where are you, now? she wondered, tasting tears at the back of her throat.

"Though judging by your expression, you have no intention of actually handing the girl over, do you?" Iris faltered in her steps, one delicate brow arched. "We suspected as much—you're far too loyal to do so willingly. Even now, my forces are poised across the globe, ready to wreak havoc with but a single word."

Gwen could see Iris more clearly now, the black-blue of the sky receding as the sun rose over the gently-sloping hills in the distance. She was undoubtedly one of the prettiest women Gwen had ever seen, almost enviable. But there was something in her eyes, in the twist of her mouth when she smiled, that showed her for the ugly creature underneath.

"You're bluffing." Gwen glanced at Forneus. There was a flicker of doubt in his eyes in spite of the certainty of his words.

Iris must have seen it too, for she tossed her head back with a laugh. "Oh, am I?"

She exchanged a look with Reeves, one that made Gwen think of the silent cues she'd seen pass between Forneus and the members of the Fifth Unit during her training sessions; the kind that usually signalled that things were about to get that much harder.

It seemed her impression was right, for Reeves raised his hand, holding it high for several beats longer than he needed to.

He's doing it on purpose. Gwen felt her heart jump into her throat. He's trying to scare us.

Forneus tensed up in front of her, lightning crackling warningly along his fingertips. When Reeves snapped his fingers, Gwen drew back, expecting a horde of monsters to rush forward.

None came.

Instead, another vortex opened up behind them, almost exactly where the first one had been, forming a swirling mass of black energy. She couldn't make out much of anything at first, only the rapidly spinning tendrils of black and grey, weaving to and fro until the vortex was nearly as wide as the street.

Monsters did appear then, stepping out of the vortex in a myriad of shrieks and growls, though none of them attacked. Instead, they filed left and right, coming to a halt on either side of Iris and Reeves; harpies, wyvern, more demons than she could count. Each one of them watching, waiting.

As the vortex began to vanish, a large, wooden platform came into view, sitting directly behind Reeves and Iris. Gwen watched as the black mist rose higher, revealing more and more of the platform until she could make out a figure at the very centre.

Phenex! Gwen stared up at him, disbelieving. No...oh god, no. What have they done to him?

Chains encircled both of his arms, his wrists bound above his head. The rest of the chain was looped through a metal rung set into a thick post behind him, jutting straight up from the wooden platform. His feet were shackled at its base, the whites of his sneakers smeared with crimson, no doubt from the large gash running the full width of his waist. His upper torso was completely bare, streaks of blood tainting the golden sun tattoo on his chest, darkening the outline with fiery red. Vicious gashes covered him from across his neck and shoulders to beneath his navel, each one covered in a strange, green substance that seemed to froth around the edges.