Black Cat's Lair

Over the cliff's edge on which we stood lay a thick cloud of dark and cold which seemed to cling to the ragged earth scarred by cracks—it was hard to believe all of this was located no more than a few steps outside the city walls. It was mystifying, ominous, and just bizarre, and somehow it stole my breath from me, making my chest feel as though it were being tightly squeezed by the clammy hands of death.

This was fear. Fear and heavy, painful uncertainty.

"It's not too far."

Ironmage spun around swiftly with a turn of his foot, and, still feeling conflicted, I soon followed. We headed down a narrow, winding road littered with snow, pebbles, and a few fallen branches which must have been dropped here by passing winds, for not a single dying tree was in sight. The road led us to a sign, a titled, wooden sign with crooked arrows—they appeared to have been painted quite lazily—that pointed in various directions. Ironmage's eye fixed on the arrow that pointed down the left path, which also happened to be the one that led further down the hill, also known as the exact place I didn't want to go; nevertheless, I allowed the one-eyed stranger the guide us both into the blanket of darkness until the shadows swallowed us entirely.

It took time for the sound of us treading over dirt and stone to fade, for the long, ice-tipped fingers of Mother Nature's dark side to pry themselves off my back, and something new took their place: something new and soft a warm.

We weren't outside anymore.

Ironmage tapped his hand several times against a wall I hadn't even known was present beside him; my gaze had been locked on the ground at my feet, and even that was still a bit too dark for me to visualize the outline of my shoes. Soon, however, a warm light filled the room, as if responding to Ironmage's tapping.

"Welcome to our Safe Haven."

I could see everything now: we were standing in a living room of sorts, one that had evidently endured more than a few hardships of its own--the proof lay in the cracked walls and the charcoal gray carpet which probably hadn't been charcoal gray when it was first laid. There were few furnishings--one long, skin-colored sofa which was marked with dirt and coffee stains; a three-legged, splintery chair sitting solitarily in a corner; and a short table approximately the length of the sofa which appeared to have been victimized by regularly sharpened cat claws.

It was then, just as I had begun focusing on the contents peeking out of an overstuffed crate, that my ears became acquainted with the soft voice of a child.

"Jeremy, you found him..."

A little boy with short, chestnut-brown hair now stood several yards away from me clutching the sleeves of his turtleneck, his pale blue eyes wide with astonishment and pure wonder. I raised my eyebrow at him, which in turn caused him to gasp.

"It's really you, you're the Shadow Keeper..." He took a step closer to me. I took a step backward. He took a step forward. My feet locked in place. My breath hitched. I was panicking over the peculiar behavior of a strange child...

"Quit freakin' him out," Ironmage ordered, and the little boy soon straightened his posture and saluted me heartily.

"It's a honor to finally get to meet you, sir," he said, grinning with delight. "Really, it is. You brightened up my day. Or should I say....darkened..." He placed his hand over his mouth and cackled to himself.

"Hanako, allow me to introduce my kid brother, Levin," said Ironmage. Judging by the scowl tugging at his facial features I made a mental note that Ironmage wasn't quite as fond of his little brother as I was of mine. "He's an eight-year-old pest and a pain in my neck, so feel free to pummel him to your heart's content at any time."

Levin frowned at his brother's harsh comment, and he lifted his hand to touch the sleeve of the man's shirt. His eyes became half-lidded, his lips pursed, and his head fell whilst the shoulders rose—I'd seen this move before. He was attempting to guilt-trip Ironmage, using his adorable appearance as an unfair advantage, a secret and effective weapon—well, it was effective on me, anyway. The boy's older brother, on the other hand, didn't do so much as flinch.

"Jeremyyy~..." A whine escaped his lips, and while I found it rather saddening, Ironmage only seemed to be bound by the heavy chains of irritation. "Jeremyyy~..." He whined again. "Jeremy, why do you hafta be so mean all the time?"

After the third time Levin uttered that name, Ironmage snapped, immediately collapsing to his knees to slap his hand over the little boy's mouth. He proceeded to give him the cold glare of death. "Stop. Calling. Me. That."

"Jeremy?"

It was a trigger. I discovered that the moment those six letters rolled off my tongue and met the stiff atmosphere, as well as the unwelcoming ears of Ironmage; the infuriated man soon tore his attention from Levin and fixed it on me, his single, unblinking eye opened to its full capacity. My muscles tensed. My heartbeat quickened.

"Is...i-is that your real name?" I asked, regardless of the millions of nerves screaming for me not to pry. "That would make a lot of sense, since 'Ironmage' isn't...really a name...o-or maybe it is. What do I know? I'm just... some idiot..."

I was letting the anxiety get to me. As of now, I still greatly feared what unspeakable things this man could do to me, and I found myself wondering that—if I were to venture too far on his bad side—I would end up just like that horned demon at the courthouse: dead. I was a coward. So I backed down.

"You know what, just forget I said anything."

I watched with wary eyes as Jeremy's shoulder moved ever so slightly, and soon, his whole body turned along with it, and his rose from his kneeling position on the floor. I subconsciously took a step backward, only to feel a cold, hard surface—the door—against my back. I had nowhere to run at this point. This was the end of the road. I was done for. I could see the headlines now: Sixteen-year-old Boy Dies by the Hand of a Crazed Cyborg. The City of Bluegate Celebrates One Less Mouth to Feed—

"Hanako."

I heard a voice just then, Jeremy's voice, and to my absolute disbelief, his tone sounded considerably more relaxed now. Something must have urged him to suppress his rage, perhaps an inner and more sensible voice who advised him that murdering a teenage boy would not look good on his "saint" record. Then again, neither would kidnapping a teenage boy, let alone anyone, but that didn't stop him.

"Follow me," he ordered, turning his back to me yet again before making his way over to a staircase on the other side of the living room. From where I stood, it appeared to descend to a hallway of sorts, and an eerily dark one at that; the only light I could see emanated from a single torch attached to the wall. Jeremy grabbed that torch and headed down the staircase, calling out for me to follow him one last time. He disappeared from my sight entirely in a matter of seconds, the body of the torch's flame tapering and trembling until it, too, vanished. I wondered if he trusted me to go after him. At that moment, I could have easily made my escape, but something prevented me from doing so, something akin to a barrier along my mind's edge. So in a sense, I had no choice but to follow him.

And I did. I lifted my feet with great effort and speed but came to an abrupt stop upon realizing I had been swallowed by the dark. Without a torch of my own, I couldn't even know how close I was to reaching him, or even what lay at my feet besides the uneven cobblestone tiles. Behind me, there was a long stretch of black--this was the ground I had covered within my fifteen seconds of running--and just behind that was a tiny box of light--that was the living room. I heard Jeremy call my name again, this time reclaiming a sliver of the frustration his voice had abandoned. For a split second, I caught a glimpse of that familiar green light which radiated from his mechanical arm, and I couldn't help but wonder if this were meant to be a source of guidance or a warning sign. Whatever the case, it implored me to quicken my pace and lead me to him.

"Is His Royal Highness ready now, or shall I allow him to waste more of the time I don't have?"

I found Jeremy standing in a room--it was no larger than a small bedroom--that was entirely empty save a chest. After securing his torch to another sconce, he reached into his left pant pocket and slipped out a silver key, proceeding to crouch down so that he could insert it into the lock on the front center of the chest. With a single, abrupt turn of the key, the lock emitted a sharp click; Jeremy pried his fingers beneath the dusty metal and opened it with ease. Inside, there sat a beautiful, double-edged sword. It was well over three feet in length, encased in an embroidered covering of dark crimson and gold. Jeremy reached both hands into the chest and, as though he were handling a fragile, newborn baby, lifted the blade so that it was perfectly balanced in his grip.

"This is Destiny's Song," he uttered in a gruff voice, staring at the crescent moon insignia sewn into the very center of the embroidery. "It was handcrafted by Death himself, who then entrusted me with the duty of protecting it. This blade is more important than your life, understand?"

He certainly knew how to make a guy feel insignificant. "Yeah," I muttered. "Sure thing. But why are you telling me all this?"

"It's yours."

"Very funny, I'm not falling for—"

I was cut off mid-sentence by the abrupt sensation of Jeremy's hard leather boot striking my unsuspecting shin. It was only a brief kick, nothing too packed with force, but it caught me off guard, and it still hurt like the dickens.

+++

"This is Destiny's Song," he uttered in a gruff voice, staring at the crescent moon insignia sewn into the very center of the embroidery. "It was handcrafted by Death himself, who then entrusted me with the duty of protecting it. This blade is more important than your life, understand?"

He certainly knew how to make a guy feel insignificant. "Yeah," I muttered. "Sure thing. But why are you telling me all this?"

"It's yours."

"Very funny, I'm not falling for—"

I was cut off mid-sentence by the abrupt sensation of Jeremy's hard leather boot striking my unsuspecting shin. It was only a brief kick, nothing too packed with force, but it caught me off guard, and it still hurt like the dickens.

"I ain't fooling around," he snapped, only returning my scowl with an even more menacing one. I couldn't out-intimidate this guy even if I tried.

"I don't understand; why would you say something like that?"

"Because it belongs to you," he said. "I've kept it for all these years, and now it's time for you to take some responsibility and accept this. There're a few things you should know, however, before I hand this priceless piece of weaponry over to you." His one visible eye narrowed at me, seeming to drive a hole straight through my flesh and bones and uncover the soul hidden beneath. "First, you must never allow Destiny's Song to leave your side. If the demons who're after you get a hold of it, we could all die and it'd be your fault."

No pressure there, I thought.

"Second, don't you ever get cocky, alright? Having this blade with ya at all times doesn't mean you're guaranteed protection. Running into a fight without a strategy is foolish, I don't care how thick yer skin is."

I gave a firm nod to show that I acknowledged his words, but truthfully I wasn't taking heed to them. What use was any of this to me? It weren't as though I would be finding myself going head to head with an army of demons any time soon. Surely, Jeremy knew so as well. Everything he told me, all of these warnings and whatnot, they were merely for precaution--or perhaps simply to scare me.

"Any other warnings?"

"Just one more," Jeremy answered, "and I want you to listen closely to it: you are not to ever draw this blade."

There was something about the way his voice deepened and darkened, the subtle dip of his head so that his eye looked up at me, pupil partially hidden behind his top eyelid and reflecting light from the torch's flame, the unadulterated intensity his entire being took on...that shook me. Undeniably. My bones were chilled instantaneously, and yet I could feel my face paling, growing steadily warmer as sweat began to take form on my forehead.

"Why...would you say something like that?"

"Because," he replied, "it's vital for you to know. The moment you unsheathe Destiny's Song, I have no doubts that you'll react harshly to it, and there's a good chance you won't be able to resist the compulsive desire to destroy your surroundings."

I could've sworn my heart gained twenty pounds in 0.2 seconds. His words had such a punitive effect on my mind, and for the life of me I couldn't figure out why I allowed them to take advantage of me. I wanted to believe otherwise. I wanted to believe he were merely lying, making up ridiculous stories as a prank, an overdue April Fool's joke that clearly had been taken a bit too far. But I couldn't. For some reason I had a feeling this man had no reason to lie to me.

"I don't know...what you're talking about..."

I could barely find the strength in me to speak to him. With every breath I let out, he was sure to counter with yet another disheartening statement. Was he my enemy? At the time, I wondered about that.

"Just take the blade, Hanako."

I held out my trembling hands and accepted the blade with wavering readiness. And I was given absolutely no time to prepare myself mentally, remaining as still and firm as a marble statue as Jeremy found a way to fasten the blade to my back using a spare belt, a special clip, and a couple of sturdy sashes.

"There," he said eventually, taking a step back. "You can carry the blade easier now."

I didn't know what to say. So tentatively, I gave a soft "thank you" and hung my head. I was afraid to make eye contact with him again. I was afraid to say or do anything, so I didn't. The sword felt heavier now, burdensome, almost as though it were draining my life and energy with each passing moment. Responsibility, he had said. A part of me shriveled in disgust at the thought. No one else had told me about this. Not once in my life had anyone ever admonished me to prepare for something quite so ridiculous. It was all too sudden. I was in desperate need of a time-out.

When I had finally managed to lift my head again, I discovered that Jeremy had left me, and with him, he carried the torch, our only source of light. My stomach churned with unease. This time, I suspected he didn't plan on helping me out of the darkness, and that I would have no choice but to find my back alone. Heaving a sigh of defeat, I inched my way forward, baby step after baby step, until I was certain my back was against the hallway wall. It was cold. Cold and damp and rough. Just like the ground. I sidestepped gingerly, trying not to mind the unpleasant sensation of the sword pressing into my back, along with the incessant tapping of what sounded like claws against the stones at my feet.

I wasn't alone anymore.

"Hello?"

At first, my dry, panicky whisper went unanswered. It even echoed, ricocheting off every dimension of the hallway until it struck my ears. But the second I figured it were okay to continue going forward, something grabbed my ankle, something small, like a child's hand, only much furrier.

"It's only me, Gabriel," a low voice purred, "you don't have to be so alarmed."

"I don't know who you are."

"Make a wild guess."

"You're a talking cat."

"Bingo."

"Kill me, please."

The disembodied voice had the nerve to chuckle at me, and soon after, the paw released its grip on my ankle. "You seem restless, Hanako," the one calling himself Gabriel noted. "I'm surprised. I thought that you, being the Shadow Keeper and all, would feel more at ease in the darkness than in the light, but it seems I am mistaken. I sincerely apologize. Would you like a torch?"

"I'd like to know who exactly I'm talking to, but a torch works just as well."

As if triggered by my sigh, a large portion of the hallway lit up...but only on the bottom half. Surely enough, there, sitting obediently at my feet with its tail swishing back and forth in a pleased manner, was a small cat. Its fur was mostly black but dusted in a light gray, almost like silver dust particles, and in its mouth was a torch just like the one Jeremy had, only a bit smaller.

"Oh, Hanako, you are too much," it said with a faint laugh, yet its jaw didn't move even a fraction of a centimeter. I couldn't quite understand how it could possibly be communicating with me. So I asked.

"Telepathy, of course," it replied. Of course. How stupid of me not to have known that. "Now would you do me a favor and carry me back? I'm on my last life, I'll have you know."

I stared at the cat for a time, hoping to decipher its motives through prolonged eye contact, but discovering before too long that such a thing was improbable. So I bent over and lifted the cat in my arms, heedful not to move too quickly and cause the torch's flame to singe either of us.

He was surprisingly soft and warm. Carrying him all the way to the living room reminded me how badly I had wanted a cat when I was a kid.

As soon as we had reached the peak of the staircase and emerged from the dark, I let the cat leap out of my arms. He then lifted his head so that I could easily retrieve the torch from him and return it to its sconce. By the time I had fully turned around to face the others, Levin was already kneeling in front of the cat and preparing to sweep him up with wide, welcoming arms.

"Gabe, I missed you, buddy!"

"Unhand me, child!" Gabriel shrieked. He started to squirm in an attempt to escape Levin's grasp and achieved success rather effortlessly. "I am not your pet! And how many times do I have to tell you? My name is Gabriel. I refuse to be addressed by such a petty thing as a nickname." He walked in circles around me for about ten seconds, then sat in the center of those invisible circles, gazing up at Jeremy with a suspicious twinkle in his eye. The two of them both knew something that I didn't. But neither said a word. Jeremy, Levin, and I all watched at the cat raised its paw and tapped the ground several times. Then waited. And waited.

The room faded to black.

+++

When I came to, I found myself sitting against a rigged wall in what appeared to be a bat cave—a bat cave with an elaborate computer setup. And who should be seated atop the wheeled chair with his tail moving like a windshield wiper but Gabriel. His head turned not a moment after he heard me shuffling my movements.

"It's about time you opened your eyes," he purred. "I do apologize if the ride was a little rough. My teleportation magic is not what it used to be." He patted his own head gently, then began petting it as he gave a soft sigh. "Well, in any case, I believe we should get down to business now."

I thought about asking him to explain. What business could a cat have in a place like this? It wasn't as though he had fingers to type, and not to mention...well, that he was a cat. It was bizarre. Everything about this was bizarre. A part of my brain had been left behind by a reckless train of thought, still hopelessly stumped on the fact that we were even here right now and not where Jeremy and Levin were. Teleportation, he said. First telepathy, and now this. I was beginning to feel nauseous.

"Computer, please access files on the Shadow Keeper."

Several strange, high-pitched beeps and clicks emitted from the flat-screen monitor in front of Gabriel, and a monotonous voice replied, "Are you sure you want me to access these files for you, Lord Gabriel?"

The cat glanced at me from over his slanted little shoulder, his multicolored eyes seeming to hurl both sympathies and questions at me like a strange barrage of bullets. He was waiting. Waiting for me to respond to unvoiced words.

"Show me. I can handle it." Could I?

"Very well." He faced the computer again and said, "Go ahead and access those files."

"Understood."

And so, one by one, dozens upon dozens of disturbing images appeared on the large screen, flooding my eyes with things I immediately wished I could erase from my conscious mind. It was all too much to take in at once, but nevertheless my idiotic self attempted to do so for a reason I doubted I'd ever know. These images...these photographs, it seemed...they were all of me. But not the me I was accustomed to seeing. Not the me with messy auburn hair and hazel eyes. Not the me who could hardly ever maintain an intimidating countenance for more than three seconds without cowering submissively. No, this monster I saw before me wore the facial expression of a fearsome beast, an unearthly warrior, eyes pitch black save a set of glowing red pupils which were seemingly aflame with ire. Out of its head stuck a pair of horns, dark and jagged like branches. In one of the pictures, its back was hunched over, allowing my eyes to take in the sight of the monster's wings, which appeared to be nothing more than a looming shadow.

"I look...like some sort of a demon..."

"That's because you are a demon, Hanako," the cat said, nodding solemnly. "In fact," he continued, "I'd go as far as to say you are a demon prince...of sorts. You see, these pictures are all single frames of the footage caught of you in that alley just the other day. Quite a sight, isn't it?"

I was feeling short of breath. With my mind solely focused on the images displayed on the screen, certain things that should have been settled into my muscle memories--namely breathing--became hopelessly jumbled in with the rest of the mess. Shallow breaths were all I could take. Questions dangled from the edge of my tongue but couldn't quite urge themselves to fall, perhaps out of fear that their answers would be anything but pleasant. I squinted at the screen again. Then at Gabriel. His eyes, half-lidded, stared back at me with sympathy, sympathy I couldn't bring myself to accept.

"You're being hunted," came his soft voice, "by a group called the Midnight Legion. Eleven demons, it consists of--don't be fooled by what the title may suggest--all loyal followers and children of Lucifer. They're single-minded beings, Hanako, certainly not creatures you should underestimate at any time. Ironmage may be your guardian, be he can't protect you forever, you know. Some day you must seek out and eliminate every last one of these demons using Destiny's Song. Then, and only then, will you be able to return to the peaceful life you once lived."

Eliminate. I shuttered at the word. Chaos was the last thing I wanted to be a part of, especially chaos that I were to cause. Eliminate. That was nothing more than a synonym for kill. Gabriel should have just said it outright. He wanted me to kill a bunch of strangers.

"Jeremy told me never to use the sword," I pointed out, a little piece of me hoping that this vital information had escaped the cat for a moment, and that my mentioning of it would bring him to withdraw everything he'd just finished explaining. Of course, I knew it was tragically unlikely. But hey, I could hope, couldn't I? Being in denial was my forte.

"One day soon you may have to," Gabriel said, instantly tearing down that paper-thin wall I 'd built up. A whole lot of good that did me. "And I fear it will not be a pleasant day for any of us. I'm sorry...you had to find out this way, Hanako."

"Take me back."

I turned my eyes away as Gabriel kindly requested for me to repeat my soft-spoken words.

"Take me back to the Ryders now, please. I'm sick of looking at myself."

Gabriel did just as I told him to. With languid taps of his paw, the cat caused my surroundings to become nondescript, a great mass of dark which unhesitatingly lay me to a cold and bitter rest.

+++

Consciousness returned like a reluctant slave trudging back to its ruthless owner, knowing that only a world of hurt and regret should await him. I was back in the living room. Jeremy was kneeling beside me, a look of simultaneous concern and frustration plastered on his face. Speak, his eye told me. At first, all I could do was point accusingly at the black feline, struggling to resist the urge to chuck the nearest object in his direction.

"What did Gabe do to you, Hanako?" Levin asked me. "Did he hurt you?"

"How about you ask him yourself~?"

The two brothers turned to Gabriel in unison, demanding answers without even opening their mouths. It was a brief war battled in brutal silence.

"I did nothing more than explain to him the truth," the cat soon huffed, turning his head away defiantly. "And I saved you the trouble by showing him that file, by the way. Now you won't be the one he holds a grudge against for the rest of your life. It'll be me." Gabriel let out a sigh of defeat and tapped his paw against the ground, then vanished within the next couple of seconds.

For whatever reason, Jeremy was bubbling with genuine rage, veins on his head and uncovered forearms practically on the verge of bursting. It was quite the strong reaction, and had it not been for the clear colors he soon painted, I would have suspected that Jeremy's and Gabriel's relationship were a bit more complicated that just an "owner and pet" type of thing.

He was inches away from digging his mechanical fist into the wall when Levin grabbed hold of his brother's arm. The two locked eyes and said nothing for a moment.

"You can't get mad at him."

"He's nothing more than a troublemaker and a headache, Levin." Jeremy yanked his arm away from the little boy and scowled with ire. "Nothing. He's done nothing good for us."

"He saved your life, remember?"

There was a long pause between Levin's soft-spoken question and the sharp breath Jeremy drew with great reluctance. He turned from the boy, releasing that breath and resting his forehead against the wall. All was quiet.

"I wouldn't count that as saving my life. If you ask me, I'd've preferred he left me to die. Would've been doing me a favor."

His hand moved its way slowly towards his eyepatch, which clicked and buzzed and whirred, seemingly in response. Jeremy clicked his tongue in irritation.

"This darn thing keeps me awake every night. Feels like this side of my face is bein' punctured with needles, and I can't stand it. But if I take it off..."

He allowed his arm to fall limp at his side before stumbling backward a few steps, appearing somewhat overcome by dizziness. He shook it away almost instantly.

"Well, you know I can't do that." Jeremy looked at me. "Hanako, I apologize for Gabriel, but at least now you know what's going on."

I felt a draft just then creep through a crack beneath the door, crawling across the ground until it reached any and every patch of skin on me that wasn't covered. More than that, though, it felt to have crept farther beneath the skin, touching and chilling everything from my bones to my formerly fickle state of mind. I couldn't shake Gabriel's voice, his image, nor his words. They stuck with me, and I had a feeling they would for a very long time.

"The Midnight Legion, huh?" I whispered the name to myself, now having acquired monotony of tone. "Well, then. Guess I'll just have to keep an eye out for them."

"What did you just say?"

Once I managed to tear my dispirited gaze from the discolored wall, I stared straight into Jeremy's eye, he and I unblinking.

And I uttered, "I'm going back to Bluegate."