Chatterbox: Inkwell

Quick Short Story

So, I've been putting off actually editing my novel now that I've finished it, and I've been writing plays and short stories instead. Here's one of the (unfinished) better ones...

~~~

Fire flashing.

Blazestar’s face, teeth bared in a snarl, her hands sweeping out with fire.

The people cowering behind her, looking with horror not at the fire-wielder, but at me.

I start awake, gasping. Xander pokes his head in my door, his black hair flopping into his face, not yet pushed back with layers of grease and pomade. He frowns as he sees me awake.

“Hungry?” he asks, opening the door wider. He leans against the doorframe, pushing his hair out of his eyes with one hand, tapping the other on his pajama clad thigh.

“Of course,” I reply, sitting up. I wince as the events of yesterday catch up to me-- my fight with Blazestar, the stalemate we reached when I disappeared, the damage she inflicted.

I wince once more as that damage becomes apparent to me-- my right hand, blistered and bandaged, as well as a cut above my eyebrow.

Noticing my winces, Xander asks, “Did you at least give as good as you got?”

“Always,” I say, standing up. I put my uninjured hand on my bedpost for balance and step carefully around the calf-length boots I left at my bedside last night, after Xander had finished clucking at me.

Xander raises his eyebrows at my shoe placement, but then shakes his head, dismissing it.

“Jessamine cooked today, if you care,” he says, taking my forearm and walking me down the hallway. He continues speaking but I tune him out as we pass through the private wing and into the main section of the house-- my house, I remind myself. It’s officially mine, now that the villain business has made me enough money to pay off the rent as well as hire a full time staff.

“...and you didn’t hear a word I just said, did you,” Xander finishes, jostling my arm.

I shake my head ruefully and Xander sighs, too used to my antics to be anything but resigned.

“Not after Jessamine, no,” I admit. Although we have 4 cooks that rotate in and out in shifts, Jessamine is my favorite. She doesn’t see Shattered Shadow the villain-- she just sees plain old me. To be fair, it probably helps that I try to involve my staff as little as possible in my villain business, and that she hardly speaks any English, just enough to get by in my chaotic household.

“She always has been your favorite,” Xander remarks as we turn the corner into the dining room. The room is dark, the black curtains not yet thrown open, not that the black furniture would have stood out much, anyway.

“Why don’t you just hire her full-time and have her live here, with us?” Xander asks, crossing the room and throwing open the curtains. “God knows we have the room.”

And he’s right-- the house is way too big for just my crew at the moment, but even so…

“She has a family,” I say, turning away from the bright sunlight. “You of all people should know that I don’t want family involved.”

Xander flinches, only slightly, but I’m trained to see even the tiniest of things.

“Very well, Styg,” he says, using his nickname for me. Short for Stygian-- my real name, and one I haven’t heard in years. Not since college, really.

I turn into the light and back to Xander, and my attention catches on something outside. With the curtains open, I have a full view of my front stoop, and there’s someone-- something-- there.

Xander follows my eyes and straightens as he notices the figure on my doorstep.

“How did they get past the wards?” he mutters, going to the wall and tapping one of the dark wood panels. With a hiss, it slides open, and he grabs the bow and quiver placed within. He offers me a dagger, but I refuse, having already called to my power. Shadows wreathe my wrists and forearms as I slip out of the dining room and into the main hall. Xander follows at my side, silent as a shadow-- fitting, considering who he works for. Without needing to speak, we flank the wide doors, and I mouth a countdown to him.

“Five… four… three…” I mouth, but there’s no need.

Someone knocks on the door-- three times, hesitantly. Softly.

One of the recently hired maids, Alberta, comes bustling in. She freezes as she sees us, armed and at the ready at the door.

“Hide,” I mouth to her, and she nods, face whitening. I hear her footsteps retreat and then the house is silent once more.

Xander glances at me, and I nod, a plan already in both our heads. I slip into the shadows behind the door, and, once I’m entombed thoroughly, Xander yanks the door open. From my position, I can only see his face and not the visitor. But his expression is one of shock.

“Oh my God, are you okay?” he asks, pulling the door a little wider.

“I-- I need to speak with… Shattered Shadow,” a voice says, a voice belonging to the person on the other side of the door.

Xander glances at me briefly, before saying, “He’s not here right now. Can I take a message?”

“No, please,” the voice says desperately. “It’s urgent. Please, I need to speak with him. Just… please.”

“He is not in,” Xander says again, firmly, his business face taking over. He starts to close the door but I step out of the shadows.

“My… assistant is mistaken,” I say, adjusting my shadows around me to create an illusion of my usual armor over my boxers and t-shirt. Then I step further out from behind the door and see the figure on the front step for the first time.

It’s a girl, maybe about my age. She’s bracing one shoulder against the doorframe, more for support than for intimidation, and her hands are tucked deep within the folds of an oversized and dirty coat.

“I am indeed in, so what may I do for you, Miss…?” I trail off, cocking up one eyebrow and letting my Shattered Shadow persona take over.

She hesitates a moment, then answers, “Celia. You may call me Celia.”

I lean against the doorframe as the shadows whisper to me, saying that she is a liar, to be wary of this girl--

“Why don’t you try that again,” I purr, leaning against the other side of the doorframe, “And don’t lie this time. It’s most off-putting for our first meeting.”

“This-- this isn’t our first meeting,” the girl says, putting up her chin, trying to act brave. But the shadows tell me that her heartbeat is racing and her knees are shaking, even as she stands tall.

I tap my chin. “Hmm, I don’t remember you. Did I kidnap you once? Hold you for ransom? I do have a bad habit of doing that. Look, I need the money, so can we just put that behind us and--”

“You didn’t kidnap me,” she says softly. “You fought me.”

She looks at me, as if expecting me to remember, and suddenly I do.

“Miss Blazestar,” I say, tilting my head. “What an unexpected surprise.”

“I need your help,” she says, still in that soft tone, though her breathing quickens and her face turns white. I hear Xander take a step behind me, then stop, but my attention remains on Blazestar.

“And why is that?” I ask her, letting a little rumble into my voice, letting her see Shattered Shadow.

“Because… because there’s someone else, out there, that I need help with,” she grates out, lifting her head and looking me in the eyes. “Because despite what you believe, you aren’t the worst villain I’ve fought. And because…”

Blazestar trails off and looks away.

“Because?” I prompt her, and her shoulders start shaking.

Crying, the shadows inform me, though anyone with eyes could see that.

“Because I- I…” Blazestar trails off again, making a choking sound.

I lean forward, getting a better look at her. That wasn’t just grime smeared on her coat and face-- it was ash. And blood. And now that I looked…

“Show me your hands,” I order. She looks away.

“Show me your hands, or I leave you here and now,” I say, my voice calm and controlled.

Blazestar lets out a sob and shoves her hands at me. Or rather, where her hands should be. All that remain of her beautiful hands, the one she uses to control her powers, are stumps, wrapped in bloody cloth from what looks like her costume and coat. From behind me, Xander swears, long and low.

“They cut off your hands,” I say, my blood running cold.

Blazestar nods and conceals them again in her coat, a tear dripping onto my doorstep. I look at it, the single wet patch on a dry ocean of concrete, as she speaks again.

“I just… I didn’t know what to do. No-one in my life knows that I’m Blazestar and… I had your address just in case I needed to rescue a hostage and…”

Blazestar’s really crying in earnest now. She drops to her knees, lowering her head as though she’s begging me.

“Please,” she says again. “There’s no-one else.”

“Styg…” Xander says from behind me, but I’m already moving.

I open the door wide with a flick of my shoulder and say, “Come in.”

~~~

What do you all think? Good enough to continue?

~Starseeker