The Moon's Fangs | 1
14 | line drawn

The warm, honeyed liquid kissed my lips a fraction of a second before everything spiraled.

The drapes concealing the entrance swayed with movement, pulling our attention in that direction. “Don’t tell me you’re back already, D,” Nolan said, keeping his hand on my thigh while propping his other elbow up on the top of the couch as he turned to look over his shoulder.

That was when a dark figure came into view in his blind spot, but not in mine.

If it wasn’t for the altered-calm, my heart would’ve stopped upon locking with the intruder’s deadly gaze.

Reks.

Adorned in all black with a mask covering his mouth and nose, he raised a single finger towards his hidden mouth and slowly shook his head. He pressed a hand down on my glass. Awe-stricken, I stared up at him in obedient silence.

His midnight hair was slicked back, matching both his uniform and those eyes that somehow swallowed all the light.

Out of all the places I could have been hidden within this vast underground city, the assassin found me. He sought me out far quicker than I imagined feasible.

“Hm. Guess it was just a false a—”

Nolan’s sentence suddenly cut short as the vitiate's fist cracked against the side of his face the moment he turned back to face me. Nolan spun from the impact, his drink shattering in a wide spray across the table, splashing against the flower’s protective container.

I flinched, losing my own drink to the floor as Reks vaulted over the couch.

Where on a normal day I would have screamed or gasped out, or tried to stop them, I instead remained seated, far more composed than the situation called for. My altered reactions were similar to someone sitting at home watching a movie.

~Blazing stars!~ Nox freaked out for both of us. ~Once the altered-calm leaves your system in four minutes, you are absolutely going to flip out.~

A black handgun with intricate whorls of amber detailing appeared in Nolan’s grip with professional-like speed. But Reks was on top of him faster than he could aim. He rammed into him, knocking the gun free.

Nolan spat a curse, kicking the rim of the table at an upward angle. Glass flung in every direction, obstructing my view. I recoiled from the shards.

Nolan tried to create distance, pulling a second handgun from under his long coat.

My eyes widened as he trained his sights on Reks. The look in his provoked expression foretold there would be no hesitation when pulling the trigger. In that fleeting moment, the realization hit me. This sweet and goofy guy I met had experience with a gun. He had used one during the attack on Earth. The lack of hesitation meant he likely killed before too.

Even still and without a weapon of his own, Reks charged him.

“No, don’t—” I sedately begged.

A blue whip lashed out of nowhere and snagged the barrel of the gun, which ignited turbulent sparks. Nolan applied pressure to the trigger, but black smoke furled up as it rapidly popped with amber sparks. The strange whip coiled tighter and tighter around the barrel, crushing it like an anaconda would around its prey.

Nolan sucked air through clenched teeth, dropping the gun from his blistering red hand. It fizzled as it plopped to the floor in a mangled ruin. The scent of burning ozone quickly filled the room.

I flinched but didn’t move as the snake-like whip retracted back into… Reks. Back into… him. Like a reverse Spider-Man, the tendril pulled back into his skin at the wrist. Unbleeding scars sealed back shut where the whip disappeared back into his body.

My breath seized in my throat. I thought my eyes played tricks on me. He had used that thing on me. It was never a rope. It was… apart of him.

Nolan stared at the phenomenon too. The way Nolan eyed it in that same split second suggested the vitiate’s ability was far from ordinary among their kind.

Reks struck him in that stunned moment, restraining one of Nolan’s arms at a painful angle behind his back and slamming him against the wall.

“You done?” Reks said, keeping him pinned.

Blood leaked from Nolan’s split lip as he gave a cheeky side grin. “Friend of yours, Sleepwalker?”

My heart picked up speed as the last of the altered-calm trickled out of my system. How did he know? Was it because Reks spoke in English instead of their native tongue? The speed at which he put things together added a whole new layer to his character. Not a single beat had been skipped.

I opened my mouth to answer, feeling strongly compelled to admit to him how I met Reks, but Reks stopped me. “Don’t answer. Nolan Rhosyn failed to mention that the Chef’s Special is code for Altered-Sincerity. It’s not even on the damn menu. While it’s in your system, you are in a state of willingness; whether that be to tell the truth or follow him off a cliff, you feel exceedingly willing to do so.”

My mouth snapped shut at Reks’ command to not answer, hand clasping over my mouth. Even though the drink had barely touched my lips, could I still be under its influence to such a degree? But why… why would Nolan do that?

Nox made an equivalent reaction. An aghast hiss resonated in the back of my head as the serpent swished its tail back and forth across my arm before the Guide dissipated back into my skin, like it was too put out to stay in projection form. ~That sly troublemaker! In the lower city’s Code of Conduct, Section 52, Paragraph 4, it distinctly prohibits the exploitation of Altered subterfuge! Oh, wait a moment… there appears to be newly added exceptions to the rule when higher ranks are involved...~

I mentally shushed the Guide. The altered-calm felt nearly evaporated now as betrayal crept into my blood.

Reks had Nolan pinned to the wall, but even so, they shared the same wicked amusement across their features; both men having cards up their sleeves they were dying to use the moment the opportunity arose. I could see it in Nolan’s vexed grin and in Reks’ all-absorbing stare.

“Wow,” Nolan laughed cynically. “Big accusations coming from a dweller. It’s pretty rare to run across someone my Guide can’t identify. That only leads me to assume… you’re one of those black-market thugs using a stolen, poorly modified Guide. What in Shayd's Ass is up with it leaking out of your body like that, huh? You know, I hear scumbags like you suffer silently while the corrupted Guide eats away at every last memory until you’re just an empty shell.” he extended a dead smile. “Amelia, don’t let this rat get to you. He probably just wants to use you as leverage so he can get his hands on more contraband. Guys like this will do anything to get their fix.”

My heart dropped. I felt compelled to believe Nolan. But the betrayal sank deeper than the drop of altered-sincerity. The sweet picture I had built up of him in my mind started to warp into something twisted and confused.

Reks didn’t look the least bit impressed. “You know… you’re the spitting image of your great-grandmother. Yet your cunning couldn’t hold a candle to hers.” he pressed his forearm against Nolan’s neck. “I suggest you run on back to the training grounds to resume your training before the General realizes that First-Class Soldier rank in your status needs to be stripped before you become an embarrassment to the family name.”

Nolan’s breathing changed, turning rigidly serious. Was it the mention of family or his own pride that set him off? Either way, Reks hit a nerve. One so deep, it wiped the bloodied grin from his face.

“Oh, and don’t bother contacting your pals a few pods down,” Reks added. “They’ll be asleep for a while. Funny how your subordinates aren’t advanced enough to detect something’s amiss among their drinks. What does that say about you as their leader?”

“Amelia, find Danika and get out of here.” Nolan urged, struggling against Reks’ hold. “He can’t go after you and hold me down at the same time. Go!”

My body reacted with a willingness to go, and quickly. But I stopped, realizing the drink’s effect on me. It barely touched my lips. What would have happened if I drank the whole glass? My fingers touched my lips as repulsion twisted my stomach in knots.

Reks applied more pressure. “First-Class Phony trying to play the hero card now, are you? You expect her to believe anything you say after the stunt you pulled? She didn’t drink near enough to become a mindless slave.”

Reks turned to glance at me, but whether to check on me or to check to see if I wanted to run, I couldn’t tell.

“Who the hell are you?” Nolan’s anger mounted, only able to see a small fraction of Reks’ face as he glared daggers.

Reks laughed quietly; dangerously. “Don’t tell me a privileged Guide such as yours can’t get any information on a lowly scumbag like me? Must feel shitty when your Rank can’t get you everything you want.”

Nolan’s cheek twitched with agitation. “Look, you’ve got this all wrong. All I’m trying to do is get her back home. So stop trying to paint me as a damn villain.” He tried to crane his neck to find me, but Reks didn’t allow him any slack. “I’m telling the truth. Seriously! I’m helping her.”

“I get the strong sense you’d answer differently with altered-sincerity. Though, it would need to be quite potent to work on you, wouldn’t it… Rhosyn.”

Not a question. A statement. The way Nolan’s breathing shifted suggested that tidbit of information shouldn’t have been something just anyone would have knowledge of. It lit the autumn leaves of his eyes ablaze.

“You just painted a giant target on your back. With what you know, they won’t just exile you like all the other rats. No. They’ll fucking obliterate you.” A stale laugh fell over bloodied lips. “If you knew what that entailed, you’d be begging me to forget I ever saw you, then never show your sorry face again.”

I didn’t realize I was standing now - but I was. Somehow, I made it across the room to them without being consciously aware of my feet moving, fueled by unfiltered anger.

“Why?” I interrupted Nolan’s threats, my words as sharp as razor blades. “Was this all just an elaborate way to trick me? What did you want me to confess? Or did you have some perverted objective?” My mouth curled in a snarl.

“Fates… no.” Nolan’s eyes widened with a pained look, as if I outright struck him. “I… just wanted to figure out where the gate ring was. A-and your injuries. I wanted to know why you lied to me about how they healed. I- I shouldn’t have—”

“I think that’s enough from you.” Reks cut in, pressing Nolan’s face harder against the wall.

Downstairs, the bar’s music came to an abrupt halt.

“Time’s up,” Reks said to me over his shoulder, pulling Nolan off the wall and pushing him toward the exit.

I blinked, confused and alert. Quick footsteps on the stairs sounded.

“You don’t want me as your enemy, dweller.” Nolan warned.

Reks laughed harshly in his ear. “You’d choke on those words if you knew exactly who you attempt to threaten.” Reks shoved him into the exit drapes. He stumbled as he fell, tangling into the fabric on the way down. It ripped from the rack before he smacked the floor in a haphazard cocoon, face down to the floor.

Nolan cursed, struggling to get out of the mess of drapes. “Ah, crap—Amelia, wait!”

Reks spun around, focused and right in his element. His fingers laced around my chin, uncaring of who came for us, like the world was on his schedule. His fingers demanded me to look into his abyssal stare, to fall into their judgment. When he spoke, there was a lethal edge to it that craved to be crossed. “Don’t for one second think you’re off the hook, Outlander.”

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