“Maybe another time,” said Malcolm.
“You’ve been saying that for the past couple of days, Malcolm,” said Tapestry. “Come on. Quit pushing me away.”
“I’m not pushing you away.”
Malcolm looked over at her in the driver’s seat. Her eyes were full of concern, and it made him think back to the evening they’d shared the week before. He cared for Tapestry, probably as much as she cared for him. The moment lingered, both of them staring at each other. He glanced away, and let it pass.
My life is too complicated for this right now.
“I just need to get some rest,” he said. “Sorry. How about tomorrow night?”
Tapestry smiled sadly at him and nodded. She started her car and pulled onto the street.
CHAPTER 3
Tapestry didn’t bring up Malcolm’s murky mood again on the drive to his apartment. He thanked her and waved as her car disappeared down the street, wondering if he’d made the right choice by brushing off her dinner invitation.
Malcolm’s apartment was in a sketchy but livable Vanderbrook neighborhood. Though the park across the street was a common hangout for the local junkies, it wasn’t too bad in terms of other, more violent crimes.
He headed up the stairs and down the hallway, unlocking the door to his small apartment and breathing a sigh as he walked inside. It wasn’t much to look at, with the kitchen bleeding into the living room without a dining area or table in between, but it was enough for him and his modest needs.
The apartment was paid for by a small insurance settlement he’d received after his family home had been destroyed five years earlier. Malcolm had lost everything, including his mother, all his possessions, and any sense of stability, but the insurance company had reimbursed him with enough money to at least keep him from ending up on the street.
Malcolm sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. The local news was on, and unsurprisingly, they were covering the robbery. What did surprise him, however, was what they’d chosen to focus on.
“As you can see from this cell phone recording sent in by a VCAX viewer,” said a female reporter, in an overly enthusiastic voice, “Wind Runner appears to have been chasing after one of the robbers.”
“Oh, fuck,” muttered Malcolm.
He felt his face heat up as he watched the shaky video, filmed from across the street inside the mouth of the alleyway. The robber stood up and took off, and Malcolm watched himself not following after the man, feeling the same now as he had then.
“He just let him go,” said the male news anchor.
“The question this raises is a pretty fundamental one, in my opinion,” said the female anchor. “We know so little about Wind Runner, real name Malcolm Caldwell, and his reasons for doing anything. Remember the story on the day he first appeared as a champion, Todd?”
“I think everybody remembers that story, Diane,” said the other anchor. “Wind Runner is officially a member of the Champion Authority, but if all he’s going to do is spend his time signing autographs, chasing skirts, and letting criminals go, can we trust him to defend our city?”
“We’ll have more on this story as it develops,” said the female anchor. “You can watch it as it develops on our website, under the heading WindGate.”
Malcolm groaned and turned the TV off. He wanted to crawl into bed and hide under his covers. His phone vibrated in his pocket, and he realized he’d missed a call. He turned it on and found that he had a new voice mail from Multi, his boss at the Champion Authority.
“Malcolm,” said Multi’s voice. “You’re a fucking idiot. With that said, what’s done is done. All we can do know is try to handle the fallout. If any reporters get in touch with you, the only words coming out of your mouth should be ‘no comment’. Keep absolutely quiet for the next few days. We’ll talk about how this happened the next time you’re at HQ. Multi, out.”
Malcolm sighed and deleted the message. He tossed his phone onto the couch next to him, feeling suitably chastened. Multi had a manner about him that leant itself to hands on administrative duties, and not just because he could have multiple copies of himself on the job at once. He was sharp and used barbed words to great effect when it came to instructing the champions under his command.
I deserve this. What the hell was I thinking, anyway?
A noise came from just beyond the door to Malcolm’s bedroom. He sat up straight, realizing that he hadn’t bothered to make sure he was actually alone in the apartment when he first came in.
It was just after sundown, and that fact made Malcolm’s heart beat faster with anticipation. He slowly stood to his feet and walked toward the other room. An unnatural darkness seemed to emanate from inside of it, and he felt a smile spread across his face as he realized what that meant.
“Rose,” he whispered. “You’re back?”
Rose emerged from the darkness slowly. Malcolm could tell that she was in the middle of an episode just from a single glance at her eyes, dark and empty in their sockets.
She wore only black sweatpants and a bra, but tendrils of shadow swirled around her upper body like a gown made of darkness itself. Her skin was pale purple, and it leant an exotic quality to her incredible figure. Even now, sensing the danger of her wild state, Malcolm couldn’t help but admire her full breasts, trim waist, and curvaceous hips.
“Easy…” he said, holding up a hand. “It’s just me. There’s nobody else here.”
Tendrils shot out from Rose’s body and the darkness behind her, grabbing at Malcolm’s arms and legs. He resisted the urge to counterattack with his wind manipulation, knowing that escalating an encounter with her would be a terrible idea. She was a spryte, but she was also his friend.
He hadn’t seen her for a couple days, ever since she’d helped him in the fight against Danny, or Hothead, as he had been more commonly known. Malcolm’s guilt over his brother’s death had mixed with his concern for Rose’s safety and wellbeing, and seeing her in front of him now, in his apartment, took part of the weight off his shoulders.
Except for the fact that she is in the middle of an episode and might try to kill me, that is.
“Rose,” he said, keeping his voice calm. “Try to remember, alright? It’s me. Malcolm.”
He hadn’t seen her like this since the day they’d first met. The darkness surrounded her like a living cloak, extending up against the ceiling and out toward the walls. Malcolm was scared, even knowing her as well as he did.
She stepped in closer, holding him in place. The shadow tendrils felt soft through his clothing, and he was a little surprised when they began to move along his arms and legs, caressing, rather than attacking.
Malcolm stared at her. Her black hair fell loose across her shoulders, framing the cleavage of her breasts on either side. She took another step forward, drawing within just a few feet. One of the shadow tendrils slid up Malcolm’s inner thigh, before unbuttoning and unzipping his jeans with surprisingly dexterous motions.
“Shouldn’t we talk for a bit, first?” asked Malcolm. “Maybe settle in a little?”
Rose brought her lips in close to his for a hungry kiss, pushing her tongue into his mouth and letting out a low moan. Her breasts pressed into Malcolm’s chest. Altogether, it was a very satisfying kiss, except for the fact that she still bound his arms with her shadow tendrils, holding him in position.
Why do I get the feeling that she was into bondage, once upon a time?
The shadow tendrils stripped off Malcolm’s jeans and boxers. He was already somewhat turned on, but watching Rose slowly nuzzling her face against his chest, and then his stomach, pushed him even deeper into a state of arousal.