As someone trying to become a firefighter, I'm taking detailed notes. ^^
Holland
Holland was heading for the forest.
He didn't need to start at the beginning to figure out where Norah was going. She left the islands once and now she was doing it again.
Galeur was already on his way as he ran through the halls. And Holland was already packed from the trip, if he needed to be gone for more than a few days, he could do it.
"Holland!"
He spun back to Riveta, already reaching to hug her as she wrapped her arms around him. "He's here. He took her, didn't he?"
"She left," he said, feeling the clock ticking and the distance between him and Norah growing. "Etin was here but she left, and I have to go, I have to find her before he gets her."
She waved him off. "Tell me everything later."
"Riveta!" Her head snapped as a woman in dark scrubs waved her over. Holland kissed her goodbye quickly and left to find Galeur already waiting for him. His dragon dropped his shoulder for him to mount and took off into the chaos of the sky.
The last time the skies were this chaotic was in the last war, the earliest most people who aren't dragon riders remember. It was a minor war compared to the others, but Holland remembered dragons filling the skies, patrolling the grounds.
Galeur flew close to the destruction. He followed Norah's warpath out of the Main Halls and into the student training grounds. The grass was black beneath her feet but as soon as she reached the forest there were burn marks, not withered plants but burned. There were large vines that hadn't been in the forest before.
He found the remains of bodies. Of soldiers in armor. Of mages with rotted skin and caved heads and missing limbs.
Everything had fallen into a sharp, precise focus. Like his thoughts were in a hallway.
He saw every broken branch he passed, every indent in the dirt.
Galeur sniffed the ground when the path of destruction ended. He sneezed, fire and smoke blooming. He sneezed again and again until Holland was several feet back, making a face.
"Pollen," Galeur said. "It's everywhere. I can't smell anything."
Holland searched the woods, found a clear path of flowers and newly matured plants. Anything weird meant Norah, but Holland couldn't imagine how she had done that. Unless it wasn't her. Etin had used air when he possessed her, who's to say he couldn't make flowers bloom?
They followed the path into the city and Galeur's sneezing stopped once the crowded streets and plants had fallen away.
He followed Norah through the alleyways once Galeur's sense of smell returned. Holland raked a hand through his hair and found the nearest place to take off and flew to the tram station.
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The tram was filled with people. Some were sobbing and Holland didn't know if it was the news that was making them cry, if they'd lost loved ones, or if they were just crying to cry. But he didn't care. He and Galeur had just found Norah's scent again when his phone buzzed.
He fished it out of his pocket, reading the notification. Girl Falls From Window! Insane fight!!!!
Holland and the entire inner circle had set their phones to alert them of anything strange. He'd checked hundreds of news articles, blogging posts about monsters, and anything supernatural.
The video loaded, the black screen consuming the screen-
The video started at a farmers market, no, an outdoor restaurant. A teenage boy grinned into the camera and then three other young boys joined in, waving and laughing and having fun. They left, and the boy was talking and Holland was getting bored-
Glass shattered, faces dropped. The camera turned shakily to a white fence. The person holding the camera stood. "Holy shit, bro! Look at that."
A girl lay on freshly trimmed grass, broken glass beneath her, blood trickling down her arms. Her arms shook, her long dark hair splayed everywhere.
Galeur stopped to hover and watch.
"That's something you'd see in movies," said someone behind the camera. "Holy shit."
The girl struggled onto her forearms, with each attempt her body gave way. She was thin, almost skeletal, and the poor camera quality made it difficult to see her face.
A set of glass doors burst open and more glass shattered. A woman with pink hair and rage on her face seethed at the girl. "YOU BITCH!"
"No," Holland murmured to himself. "No, she wouldn't. There is no way that's—."
The girl on the ground lifted her head, hair falling behind her face. Norah.
"Of course, it is. Of course, it'd be her. Why would I think anything else?" Holland asked Galeur as Norah struggled to her feet.
"Dude," a boy laughed and Holland had the sudden urge to strangle him. "Girl on girl action!"
Quinnlyn, seething, smiled at the boy. A sweet, condescending smile. "Goddess on Goddess action, boy."
Norah was still struggling to unsteady feet when Quinnlyn's tails unwrapped from around her waist.
Norah eyed her, rage in her eyes but also panic. Fear.
She lunged, slamming a fist into glass-coated grass. Ice burst from it, rushing up Quinnlyn's sneakers and black leggings, then her purple jacket. It was so thick Quinnlyn couldn't move her head, only try to stab Norah with her daggered tails.
Norah managed into a sprint, and the crowd yelled like something sent them back. They split for her, Norah running past the boy filming.
"Hey, you bitch!"
The video blurred and then landed on the ground at Quinnlyn's feet. The demi-god growled, the ice cracking. "I will string your guts like fucking string lights on the wall!"
And then the video ended.
Holland replayed the video, trying to find a street or restaurant or some landmark. He froze the video when the boys turned the camera on them to show the restaurant they were eating at.
Angels Donuts and Pastries.
Holland put the name into his phone. Two days away.
Holland exhaled, rubbing his jaw. Two days. He had no idea how she managed to nearly double her distance in one day, but he couldn't think about that, he just needed to get there.
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It was near midnight when Holland and Galeur made it to Angels Donuts and Pastries. Galeur kept beside Holland, sniffing for scents. He stopped, nostrils flaring and tightening.
The streets around him were empty, save for a few youngsters stumbling over the smooth, dark streets, or others coming back from the nearby restaurants. Holland stopped, eyeing Galeur as he took in the giant hotel. Orbit Hotel.
The front was a dark brown material that was smooth but turned into a cream color where the lobby turned into floors. Holland counted eight floors and what looked to be well over a hundred rooms.
"Dagen was here," Galeur said in his deep, gruff voice.
Holland's eyes snapped to his dragon, his scales gleaming like night-dark water reflecting fire. "Dagen? How long ago?"
"Long enough for his scent to barely hold any weight."
So, long.
Holland stared at the room on the second level with yellow neon tape going from end to end, forming an X. A perimeter had been closed off around the shattered glass Norah had fallen on top of.
Holland walked through the closed, hip-high gates and up the stairs into the hotel lobby.
Several police officers were crowded in the corner of the lobby, away from the receptionist typing away on the computer. Holland took the long way to the stairs, coming only close enough to the police officers to hear them.
"Who was staying on the sixth floor?" one asked, sipping a coffee.
"Some dude named Ryan Larson," he said. "But he paid in all cash and the name is a dead end. The guy doesn't exist."
Dagen. At least the boy was smart enough not to use his real name.
"Are the two incidents related?"
"Probably," agreed another. "But I'd hate to go out the way that couple did."
Holland slipped into the stairwell, shutting the door quietly and walked up the stairs. He went to the sixth floor, walking down the oddly colored carpet until he found more caution tape on a closed door. He jiggled the doorknob. He wasn't surprised to find it locked.
The one fucking time, he thought, wishing for Dagen.
But in his many years of life, Holland had discovered ways around the rules. He reached for his ring of keys, not very many were on there. He found a tiny little device and stuck it to the doorknob. He double-checked the halls with a glance before pressing a button.
The device hissed, like air being shot out at high speeds.
A click sounded and Holland opened the door, stepped over the tape, and shut the door.
The room was a mess. And it was empty.
A table was turned over. Broken glass lay scattered over the dark, hardwood floors. Bedsheets had been ripped off the bed and now lay puddled on the floor. Holland was careful not to touch anything or move any of the furniture as he moved around.
There was a tin garbage can by the table with crumpled up foil and dark, green clothes. The same color Norah had been wearing when she left Khalier. Her cell clothes. They were covered in dry blood and Holland wasn't sure how much of it was hers or someone else's.
Holland put on a pair of gloves and went through the drawers. Empty.
The closet. Empty.
The bathroom. Empty.
Holland wondered if Dagen cleared the room out before the police got here or if the police had stuffed everything into evidence bags.
Holland searched the room another three times and still found nothing. He checked the peephole in the front door and left after a guest, dragging a suitcase behind him, went into his room.
Then Holland went to the second floor.
Each floor was a straight line left and right from the elevator's tiny lobby, and the stairwell was facing one end. The wrong end.
Holland stepped out and found the yellow, taped room. He checked the peephole and found movement and flashes and went back to the stairwell to prop the door open. Holland waited for an entire hour to hear the crime scene analysts' chatter fade behind elevator doors. And still, he waited another ten minutes to make sure they were really gone.
Holland slipped into the room, stuffing his keys back into his jacket. The lights were still on and Holland wondered if people were coming back or if they didn't care enough to turn them off.
He would make sure to be in and out.
Lines of blood arced over the walls and pooled on the floor. The lines were clean and only done twice. One for each body, he assumed. The sheets on the giant bed were shoved to one end, the sides splattered red against white and clothes were piled across the floor. A male and female set.
Holland took one look around and took special care not to touch anything.
The killing was too clean. Holland didn't think it was Quinnlyn. No, she would have made it messy like she had done with his neighbors.
The demi-god had tortured them for two days before they died, and Quinnlyn hadn't hated them. What would she do to Norah? How long would she draw it out? What would she do to Norah?
Holland couldn't think about it any longer. He needed to focus and find her before something else or Quinnlyn did, if she managed to escape.
Of course, she could. He trained Norah, she could fight Quinnlyn and she had destruction at her fingertips and a god who had grown attached to her. Literally.
But something else had been here. He wondered if it was Dagen cleaning up after Norah or someone else.
Holland went downstairs to the lobby, meeting the female receptionist at the desk. She was a short, stout woman in a bright red dress and equally bright lips. She glanced up from the screen and smiled, warm and welcoming.
"How can I help you?"
"I heard there was a murder and a girl fell from a window," he said. "Do you know what happened?"
Her forehead creased, eyes heavy as she considered him but he could see the excitement. A woman with a boring job and something exciting, dramatic had happened. "Oh, there was this accident. A girl fell--or, they're saying that she jumped out-" she winced conspiratorially "-but my coworker told me that when he was sitting here, there was this girl he said he couldn't take his eyes off of. She had like this pink hair--she's in the video that this kid posted, I can give you the link--but he said she came running out of the stairwell to stand in front of the elevators like she was waiting for it to open and got really pissed when it was empty."
Holland could tell she was about to go off on her own theories, so he said, "did anyone else see anything?" He debated asking for camera footage, but Holland could always come back if he needed more information. And asking would only draw attention.
She shook her head. Shrugged. "Don't think so. If you're really into figuring it out try asking the shops, the girl went running."
"Has anyone found her?" he asked. Norah wasn't dead, he would know and he couldn't feel any sort of panic or strong emotions. "Or does anyone know what happened to the girl and the pink-haired woman?"
She shook her hair, her eyes narrowing slightly. "No. Why?"
"I'm curious," he said. "Things like this don't happen very often."
That seemed to satisfy her. Her guard dropped, the warmth returning as she smiled. "Oh, yeah, definitely. Yeah, just ask the shops, some are still open or try tomorrow."
Holland gave his thanks and went to Galeur and told him everything. He followed Galeur through the streets, his snout close to the ground. Following Norah and Quinnlyn's scent, but not Dagen's.
It didn't look like he had been there when Norah was attacked.
They made it to a lake with a wide, stone bridge running straight across.
He talked to all the shop owners. But it was hard to keep the story going. It wasn't a straight line, he had to go down street after street, sometimes coming to a complete circle to finds leads.
The shop wasn't open, there was a closed sign but the door was unlocked and Holland could see someone moving in the back. He went in, a bell ringing above the door.
"Hey, man, read the fucking sign we're closed!" shouted a voice.
"You're open for me," Holland said sternly, marching past the aisle of fishing poles and gear.
The man inhaled and stared at the dirty, foggy doors behind Holland. "Well I was sitting here, you know, working or whatever. So naturally, I check the front but ain't nothin' there." He points to the employee room behind him. "I go out back and see these two girls fuckin' fighting. The taller one was beating the shit out of the other one--I got the whole thing on video it was fucking whack."
He showed Holland the video. Of Norah running down the docks, limping, and then Quinnlyn racing up behind her and throwing her back.
Holland's face was one of pure concentration as Norah took blow after blow. Had her head slammed into the dock, and her wrist snapped. He cringed internally for every attack, screaming at Norah to fight.
But she was only trying to run away.
And then Norah rolled over, her arm slashing through the air, and water from the lake rose up like a swinging log. It sent the demi-god into the water, Norah crawled off the docks but something made her look up and scooch back.
And then tails pulled Norah into the water. Holland forced himself to keep breathing as the camera moved off the docks and to the shore, but he only saw rain-
Something dark moved. Like a person.
Four people.
Then the video went back to the docs, the man cursing in the video. Because Quinnlyn was climbing onto the docks and searching the water. Holland did too and the camera shifted to see Norah on the opposite end of the island, coughing up water as she crawled onto shore.
Norah fell every time she tried to stand and Quinnlyn was racing to the bridge. Holland's heart was racing, but his kid was strong and eventually she found her feet and sprinted into the forest.
Holland didn't thank the man as he left, knowing he would only get himself worked up about him not helping her. But he also couldn't exactly blame him either. The kid didn't look like he'd ever picked up a sword, and seeing that was enough to scare off even a seasoned warrior.
He just wanted to find his kid.
Galeur was on the other side of the lake, sniffing the ground. Holland made his way to him, explained everything that's happened, and set off into the woods.
Galeur picked up on a scent. Dagen's.
They followed it and found footprints with deep, messy impressions in the dirt. One set was precise, strong, and straight. Goal-oriented compared to the stumbling steps it followed. Footprints that were too big to be Norah's.
Quinnlyn.
Holland couldn't understand why Norah would want to go into the forest. The city would have more bodies to hide her scent. Unless she wanted to destroy things, cause the same damage she had on Khalier.
This solidified his thinking. Norah wasn't in control of herself when she destroyed the Main Halls, when she killed those men. Etin had.
Tree branches were snapped and Galeur sniffed out the smudges of blood on trees and leaves. They followed the tracks to a grove of trees. Footprints here were mushed over the other, trampled. There was so much blood that Holland didn't need Galeur to tell him was Norah's.
This was where Quinnlyn caught up to Norah.
This was where they fought.
Chunks of dirt were removed, smoothed away. Patches of black lay around them, the plants and trees withered. Someone had been dragged and Holland didn't think in Norah's fatigue she could have dragged the demi-god.
Holland found chunks of hair in the dirt. Long, dark strands. It wasn't from being ripped out but rather cut.
His stomach churned, stomach freezing. There was a little chunk of pink flesh half-hidden beneath a leaf. Holland saw the bumps, the texture the blood-bought out. It was a tongue.
Holland ran a hand through his hair, worry, and panic sharpening. He followed the drag marks, he didn't care about the other footprints Galeur pointed out. But he got the picture. Something had attacked Quinnlyn and gave Norah enough time to haul herself away.
He walked and walked. It was only several steps but it felt too long and too short. Norah was hurt. She wasn't dead but she was hurt and that bitch... He exhaled and stepped to the edge of the earth where the ground dropped into steep incline.
"Oh, kid," he murmured. Did she throw herself off? All the signs pointed to it, but this was his Norah. His kid. She wouldn't--she couldn't. But she did.
Holland went down. He gripped onto trees for balance, checked the buildup of leaves and sticks at their bases that had piled during the runoff. He didn't find anybody parts or Quinnlyn or Norah, he just found more blood.
It pooled at the bottom of the hill that opened into a giant clearing of moss and dirt. He studied the grounds, looking for any signs that she moved but there was nothing. Galeur came down after him, smelling for the blood trail he might have missed, but there was nothing but the pool in front of him.
Holland straightened from his crouch, dragged a hand through his hair, his head pounding, a herd of horses gripping his heart. He scanned into the deaths of the forest.
"She couldn't have just disappeared," Galeur said, walking the clearing's line before coming to a stop at the red ground. He sniffed the moss, the two indents. Galeur's wings rustled.
"There was another thing here," he said and Holland's jaw clenched. "It's not Quinnlyn and it's not the Silent Thrawlers and it's not Dagen's, it's something..." His eyes narrowed and Holland couldn't handle the silence. "There's no scent. There should be a smell, but there isn't."
Holland dropped into a crouch, fingers steepled on his chin. He scrubbed his face, his mind unraveling. "How the hell can she just disappear?"
Was it something Quinnlyn's demi-god abilities could do? Was it another ability the Silent Stalkers possessed that the Shadow War's didn't provide?
"We have to search the woods again," Holland said and he felt like wood that had splintered and was ready to break. He just wanted his kid back, that's all he wanted. Was it too hard for the gods to give his kid back and to give her a normal life?
Obviously, it fucking was.
They searched the clearing again, then in the forest around it and found Dagen and Quinnlyn's scent. They decided to go after Quinnlyn. If anything that bitch would have her or she would at the very least, know what happened if she decided to talk. But halfway back to the city where her scent lead, it just vanished.
Did she take Norah?
She took her. Quinnlyn took Norah. Or something took Norah and he knew she wasn't enjoying it. She could be being tortured. Or with Etin. Holland would lose all sanity if Etin had her.
They made it back to the city, talking about how they would find Dagen, when Galeur whirled across the grass, jaws snapping. Holland unsheathed his sword as Galeur cried out and recoiled with a snarl.
He stepped around his dragon, already knowing who had followed him from the forest. The one who cut out Norah's tongue.
He gaped at a towering woman with silver hair and blood-red wings.
She levels a stony stare at him, her eyes black like ash. "Come fix your daughter." Her voice hit him like stone, brutal and commanding.
Holland couldn't think. He tried to take in the three sets of feathered wings, the wicked spear that gleamed and glowed as she cut the air. It seemed to shift like ripples in water. "What? Norah? Who are-"
"I do not have time for your questions." Galeur roared as she grabbed him and threw him into a world of liquid silver.