“Fallen Angel”
Chapter Six: All Good Things
“You’re
leaving!”
Wildwing
halted abruptly before releasing a heavy sigh. The sound of desperation in his
little brother’s voice was more than disconcerting, and the fact that he was
creating it only added to his guilt. Gathering a pair of jeans and a few
shirts, he stuffed them roughly into his duffel bag. “I have no choice, Dive.
The NHL headquarters are in
“Tur-on-toe?”
his little brother familiarized himself with the foreign word. “Where’s that?”
Wildwing
zipped up the sides of a suit cover hanging in his closet and hollered out the
door, “It’s in
“Oooh,
okay,” the teen comprehended. A moment later, a bitter, perplexed retort, “And
where’s that?”
Wildwing
chuckled as he came out of his walk-in closet and threw his open duffel bag
onto the bed next to Nosedive. Hanging up his suits on the bedpost, he sighed,
“It’s up north. Ask Tanya later if you want specifics.”
Cross-legged
and slouching, Nosedive leveled his brother with a harsh glower. “And you’re
going why?”
“I
told you this already.” Wildwing crossed the room to his dresser and pulled out
his underwear. “I have a hearing up there with Commissioner Bettman and Vice
President Daly.”
“Yeah,
I got that the first time. You still have yet to tell me why.”
Wildwing
rolled his eyes and yanked open another drawer. “Phil got word of your
condition on playing later this year.”
“Really?”
Nosedive perked up instantly. “What’d they say?”
“They
say you’re underage.”
“Wow,
nothing gets past them, and your point is…”
There was
a moment of silence, as Wildwing slammed shut his drawer, taking his anger out
on it. Forcing himself to look into his brother’s eyes, he dreaded what he had
to say next. “Look, things are different on Earth than on Puckworld. Here,
you’ll be an adult at eighteen, not twenty-one.”
Nosedive
raised a suspicious eyebrow. “I’m not getting a lesson on Earth law for no
reason, right?”
“No,”
Wildwing agreed exasperatingly, pushing back his hair. “Look, this isn’t easy
for me to say, but…you know there’s a limit on who can play for the Zenith.”
“There’s
no limit. You just can’t be under fifteen to play; that’s all.”
Wildwing
nodded. “Exactly. It’s the same thing here.”
“But I’m
older than fifteen, so…things are cool, right?” His words were hopeful, but
Wildwing didn’t miss the twinge of fear evident within them.
Scowling,
Wildwing closed the distance between he and Nosedive, taking a seat next to his
brother on the bed. He offered a comforting hand upon his little brother’s
shoulder. “The age limit here isn’t fifteen. It’s eighteen. You can’t play for
the NHL until you’re an adult.”
Blinking
with an impassive look upon his face, Nosedive sat in pure silence
before—“WHAT? You’re kidding me!”
“That’s
why we’re going up there,” Wildwing elaborated. “I’m going to plead your case
to the commissioner and see if I can get him to lower the age limit for you.”
“Why
can’t we just say I’m eighteen? They wouldn’t know.”
Wildwing
cringed. “We could’ve done that…if we hadn’t put in your
“More!”
cried Nosedive, collapsing onto the bed and covering his eyes with the crook of
his elbow. “You know, I don’t want to know. Forget it. I’m going to die anyway
without hockey. Why not make it merciful?”
Shaking
his head, Wildwing stood, rocking the bed. Grabbing his duffel bag, he tucked
his socks and underwear inside and zipped it up. Nosedive dropped his arm to
the bed and glared at his brother.
“Aren’t
you going to tell me, or are you gonna make me wither away first?”
“You said
you didn’t want to know.”
“Well, I
lied, okay? What did Ol’ Horns and Hellfire say?”
Wildwing
ignored his outburst, replying coolly, “Bettman said you have to enter the
draft.”
“And
what, pray tell, is this draft?”
Wincing,
the older brother leaned against his bedpost. “Every player in the NHL must be
chosen by a team in the NHL during the draft. Then the team has rights to you—”
he stammered at the dejected look on his brother’s face, realizing how close
his explanation sounded like slavery—“Um…the team has a year in which to
negotiate a contract with you and your agent. If you fail to sign a contract,
then you have go through the draft again.”
“Did
you guys have to go through this?”
“No.
Since we came into the league as an expansion team, they took all of us as one
unit. You, on the other hand, are a
single player.”
“But
aren’t I part of your team?” Nosedive
sent a poignant, hopeful smile toward Wildwing.
“Not
when we first entered the league.”
“Oh,
shi—crap.”
A
tiny smile flickered across Wildwing’s beak.
Suddenly,
the teen’s eyes widened, as he shot up. “I got it! You can just pick me during
the draft! I’ll sign with the team!”
“No
can do, little brother,” Wildwing argued, before amending, “At least I don’t
think so. The worst teams pick first in order to get the best players, so with
our reputation, you wouldn’t get pass the Washington Capitals.”
“Wach-ing-tin?”
Wildwing
rolled his eyes. “Ask Tanya.”
“So…what
now? I can’t move, and I wouldn’t go anyway. I’m kinda gettin’ attached to
you.”
Patting
Nosedive on the leg and offering an encouraging smile, Wildwing pulled his
duffel bag strap over his shoulder and grabbed his suit cover. “That’s why I’m
going to
“Why
can’t I go with you?” Nosedive moaned. “It’s my case. I should be there to—”
“And
you’re not allowed out of the country until your visa is approved,” Wildwing
finished bitterly.
“Man,
this sucks. What am I gonna to do without you? Bug Canard?”
Wildwing
reluctantly headed toward the door. “Well…”
The
door to his room opened, and in stepped Canard, bag in one hand, suit hanging
off his shoulder. “Bro, we’re going to miss our plane if we’re not out in three
minutes.”
“Canard’s
going, too?”
“Dive—”
“You
can’t leave me with these people!”
Nosedive practically shrieked.
“Nosedive,
it’ll be fine,” Wildwing consoled, grabbing his brother by the wrist and
hauling him to his feet. He wrapped a solacing arm about the teen’s shoulder
and offered a demonstrative squeeze. “You’ll be okay. I promise. Get to know
them a little better. They’re good people. You’ll like them.”
“You
can’t leave me here with Duke. You just can’t. He’ll kill me,” Nosedive pleaded
solemnly, looking away.
“What?”
Wildwing’s duffel bag thumped to the ground, as did his suit. Quickly seizing
his brother’s shoulders, he turned Nosedive to stare into his eyes,
unsuccessfully. “Nosedive, look at
me.”
Nosedive
unwillingly turned to him, face scrunched in rebellious melancholy.
“What
are you talking about? I trust Duke with my life. I’d trust him even with
yours.”
Nosedive
shrugged awkwardly. “It’s nuthin’,
okay? I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No,
you should,” Wildwing pressed and
bent down closer to his brother. “Look, Dive, if something is making you
uncomfortable, or something doesn’t feel right, I want you to tell me, okay? I
want to know. Now, seriously, baby bro, what’s up?”
Nosedive
stared at Wildwing for a long moment before finally smiling crookedly. “It’s
nothing…I—I guess I just didn’t want you to go. I don’t know these people, and
Duke’s past is just…edgy. How long did you say you’d be again?”
Wildwing
studied his brother with a skeptical, pensive stare before straightening his
back and shaking his head. “Uh…I should be back on Friday.”
A
quick, understanding nod. “Gotcha.”
Canard
smirked. “And you have no idea how long it is until Friday, do you, kid?”
Nosedive
shook his head. “None whatsoever.”
Tussling
his little brother’s hair, Wildwing reacquired his duffel and suit in one hand,
then draped his arm about Nosedive’s shoulders. He led the teen out of his
room. “Three days. If I’m going to be longer, I’ll let you know. And if you
need anything, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll have my comm. on at all times.”
*^*^*
Grin
watched in quiet vigil the situation unfolding. Wildwing was once more
reinforcing the rules he had laid down for the younger former Featherburn, to
which Nosedive seemed aloof. Arms crossed, eyes vacant as he stared at his
older brother, face scrunched in mute frustration, the considerably younger
duck was anything but content to stay behind. He rolled his eyes as Wildwing
reminded him for the seventh time since Grin had joined the group not to go out
at all, and he meant at all.
However,
while the boy certainly appeared to be irked by his brother’s overprotection,
there was something distressing in the teen’s aura. He was…scared. No, that was a poor choice of
words. Frightened was a better assessment, and what bothered Grin even more was
that Nosedive brushed it off like it was nothing. He put up a comfortable
front, smiled defiantly at his brother as he threatened half-heartedly to leave
the Pond by himself, and then hugged Wildwing before the older mallard was
practically dragged into the Migrator to leave.
Grin
stood there and observed the teen. Nosedive’s shoulders slumped the minute the
Migrator was out of sight. His fear seemed only to intensify, overtaking his
being, now that his brother was gone. Of what could the hatchling be so afraid?
Grin’s
eyes widened when Duke crossed the few feet between he and Nosedive, wrapping
an arm about the teen and muttering with the boy’s brother now gone, they could
finally raise him however the remaining ducks wished. The tone in Duke’s voice
was anything but threatening. It was full of mirth, teasing. Yet, Grin began
slowly to grasp exactly what made the inner demons of Nosedive ravage when the
teen eyed Duke’s saber and, almost unnoticeably, trembled.
*^*^*
Nosedive scrutinized his enemy, eyes narrowed, beak clenched. It wasn't the first time he had met this foe before today, and he doubted it would be last. However, in the previous battles, his counterpart had always been the victor. Oh, there were casualties along the front. He recalled with a morose heart his favorite pair of jeans, torn perfectly just above the left knee, faded at the creases of his knees and down his calves. Then, of course, how could he forget that teal and black Screaming Beaks tee-shirt? It was his favorite shirt, having brought it at the ‘Beaks’ Scream Yer Heart Out Tour. When he took it off the next day to wash it, his ears were still ringing. Yet, his foe took no mercy on him and ripped the beloved cloth to mere dust rags. Finally, his Lightning Skates varsity jacket, the official garb of his high school team—now, a faded memory. His fists clenched at the morbid thought of the leather and corduroy laying on the bottom of his enemy, only a faction of its once paramount glory.
This time, Nosedive vowed, he would not leave in defeat. Nay, he scoffed even at the word. Now was his time. Now, he would finally slay the dragon in front of him.
Now, his clothes would return from the washing machine.
Sizing up the metal and plastic mechanism, he first made a point of reading the dials. There were four, which seemed harmless enough, but ah ha! They would not fool him. The first read, "Load Size." Um...now, what did that mean specifically? He looked down at the pile next to him. Two shirts, a jersey, a pair of jeans, his brother’s sweatshirt and pants he still hadn’t given back, seven pairs of underwear, and at least a dozen socks. He turned back to the washer, seeing three levels—large, medium, and small. Huh. This was a toughie. Okay, he'd have come back to it.
Next, he'd have to tame the wild "Number of Rises," which consisted of two choices: one and two. So, did that mean he needed extra soap, or did the washer just get double the amount of water? If it got double the amount of water, would it bubble over the top like the toilet? Did he want to clean up the toilet? Wait...he was in the laundry room! There was no toilet! But...if the water overflowed...next dial!
All right, "Water
Temperature." This should be easy. Warm, cold; cold, warm; cold, cold;
warm, warm? Was the answer "A," "B," "C," or
"D?" He didn't know doing the wash consisted of a test! Maybe “A”!
“A” was always the note he wanted! But normally professors put the answer in
the middle, like B or C. Not to mention many of the correct answers were the
longest, so that would make the answer...oh Stars, they were all the same
number of words! How was he to know which one to pick? What if he failed? He
couldn't afford any more casualties! He had to save his armies for
Eyes darting back and forth, Nosedive sucked in deep, calming breathes. Laundry was nothing to get all worked up over. He could handle this! Yeah, it wasn't like fighting an intergalactic war or surviving on Lord Dragaunus's ship without food or water. This should be cake-walk. He raked his hair from his eyes and stared transfixed at the last dial.
"Cycles"—permanent press, ultra clean, gentle, and knit.
Oh, for the love of hockey... Maybe he’d just steal some clean underwear from Wildwing. Picking up his clothes in one scoop, he heaved them into his arms.
"Oh, there you are!"
Nosedive jumped at the sudden cry, his clothes flinging about the room. He whirled upon his heels, then blushed at the older duck standing in the doorway. "Oh...uh...hey, Tanya. What brings you about these parts?”
Tanya smiled gently. "Looking for you. Wildwing asked me to check up on you every once and in a while to make sure you’re alright.”
“Sounds like Wing,” Nosedive commented, rolling his eyes. “He thinks I can’t take care of myself or something. Been doing it for fifteen years before he arrived…” He paused for a moment, before adding in a solemn murmur, “…gonna do it after he’s gone.”
“I think he’s pretty resigned to staying in your life.” Tanya walked into the room and eyed the clothes littering the floor. “Doing laundry?"
Grinning sheepishly as he rubbed his forearm in a habitual nervous gesture, the teen looked back over his shoulder with a wary gaze. "Tryin' to, at least. The washer and I—we ain't the best of friends. You could say we have a non-working relationship."
"It eats everything you put in it?"
"Pretty much, yeah.” The teen smiled and began to pick up his soldiers.
Tanya bent down and gathered his socks and shirts, for when she picked up a pair of underwear, Nosedive quickly snatched it away. After every article of clothing was back in a pile, Tanya stalked up to the washer. The first three dials she snapped with abrupt precision, but the last one was the hardest. She had to turn it halfway around before pulling it out. Following the last motion was the sound of trickling water, the sound of triumph!
When Tanya turned around, Nosedive pointed an indecisive finger at the machine. "How'd you do that?"
"Get it to work?"
Nosedive smiled gratefully. "Yeah."
Draping an arm around the teen's shoulders, Tanya ushered him toward the machine. "You've never done wash before?"
"Well, I folded clothes once,
but Dad usually took all our stuff to the dry cleaners or dropped it off at the
Laundromat. After I got my jacket stuck in our washer and overflowed another at
the Laundromat, the Washers’
"The washer is not your enemy, Nosedive,” she assured, tussling his hair slightly. “Think of the washer as a friend who does something for you."
"I don't think Mallory would agree with you there."
"Mallory thinks her charge card is her best friend. Now," Tanya instructed, "the first dial is fairly easy. How big do you think your load is? Large, medium, or small?"
Nosedive considered for a moment, looking down at the pile. It wasn't as big as Mallory's wash, which consisted of at least two outfits a day, and when he watched Wildwing do his, his older brother had at least five pairs of jeans and shirts to match, so compared to them...? "Uh, mine's kinda small."
"Correct, so the first dial is turned to small, see? Now the next one is a little harder..." She squeezed Nosedive’s shoulder slightly, stealing his attention.
He stared, riveted and horrified, at her hand upon his shoulder. When had she touched him? He hadn't noticed it, but at sometime, she had gripped his shoulder. He would have—should have—felt it. He should have flinched. But...he didn't. That wasn't a good sign. He was getting comfortable with Tanya, and if having nothing better to do on a Tuesday afternoon than to explain to him how to do his underwear was any indication, she liked him, too. This was worse than bad. This was downright scary! Next thing, he would get comfortable with Grin or Mallory, maybe even Duke.
But when the time came and Lord Dragaunus beckoned…
This was not good.
"Now, the rinse dial—" Tanya’s voice raised tantalizingly, and he blinked as it broke through his thoughts. "That one is always one. With a nest of seven ducks, the shorter the time for washing, the better, so make sure you always have one rinse. Got it?"
He nodded numbly but finally gathered his thoughts. "Guess it's good we have our own bathrooms, huh?"
The team tech let out a short, breathless laugh. "You’re lucky you missed the first few weeks here. We slept in Phil's office with only one toilet and no shower."
A part of him, a huge part of him, wished he would have been there to live it, rather than the hell he experienced. His thoughts ricocheted to his back, and he perished them immediately.
"Stars, Nosedive," she gasped, horrid realization tainting her tone. "I—I—I didn’t..."
"It's cool, Taunny. Don’t worry about it," he replied icily, at the moment too caught up in his own memories to comfort her slip. He motioned to the last dial. "Can we just finish up?"
She was silent for a moment, her eyes poring over him, yet he kept still and reserved. She cleared her throat. “N—Now we have to split your whites and darks for the last dial, so…" She released Nosedive and grabbed a few of his colors—the shirts, the jersey, the pair of jeans—then halted suddenly. "Are these all your clothes?"
The teen nodded rigidly. "All the dirty ones. So?"
"So, you and Mallory went shopping over a week ago."
"Uh-huh, and I’ve been trying to break out Pond Penitentiary since."
"And you haven't done wash at all?"
Nosedive’s eyes turned guarded. "What are you getting at?"
"Nosedive, you've only wore two pair of pants, a jersey, a sweatshirt, and two tee-shirts in that time?" Her question was more of an interrogation than a simple inquiry.
Nosedive clenched one fist, while his other hand moved instinctively toward his lower back. "Look," he seethed in a restrained, low tone, "I...I washed them in my bathroom, okay? Sinks work just as well as washers, and they don't eat my clothes." Forcing a cheeky grin, he sulked toward the door. "Hey, would you mind finishing those up for me? Once Wing gets back, he'll give me the low-down on those wicked washers and defeatist dryers."
"But—"
"Later!" He ducked out of the room.
Tanya dropped the clothes to the floor as a cold, dreadful feeling settled in her gut. He was holding his back…again.
*^*^*
Nosedive
peeked his head into the Main Room. The room was silent and more importantly,
empty. He breathed a sigh of relief and trotted inside, flopping down on the
sofa. Settling in comfortably and crossing his legs on the coffee table, he bit
down on his Hershey’s bar and took a swig of ice tea. Okay, not the breakfast
Wildwing told him to have, but still, it was food.
He
flipped on the television and switched it directly to cartoons. Less than a
minute later, the doors opened. He whined loudly and gazed over his shoulder at
the redheaded mallard walking his way.
“So,
Dive,” Mallory broached as she dropped onto the couch next to him, “this is
what you do when we’re on missions to save the world? Watch TV?”
Nosedive
eyed her warily through his bangs. Not only was privacy obviously not observed
in the Pond, but also it was completely oblivious to the team. “Not really,” he
retorted facetiously. “I take that time to go through all your rooms.”
“What!”
“Yeah.
And I must say, purple is definitely your color—in all articles of clothing.”
Her
eyes widened instantly. “How did you—! I locked my door! There is no way you
could’ve gotten into my under—”
The
teen smiled brashly at her. “Nah, I didn’t, but at least now I know I’m right.”
“Why
you little—”
“I
prefer ‘growing’ rather than ‘little.’ And if you were going to add ‘stinkin’
waste of feathers,’ I heard it a hundred times from the Saurians, so you can
just skip that. Thanks.”
Shaking
her head, the redhead crossed her arms and sat back on the couch, resolved to
simply sitting next to him in silence.
After a
few minutes, Duke entered the room, followed by Tanya. Watching the team tech
take a seat and the former thief lean against the wall, Nosedive blinked in
surprise at the colossal figure sitting in the corner. When had Grin entered?
Was the giant so silent that Nosedive hadn’t heard him, or did Nosedive just
not see him when he sat down?
Tanya,
who sat in a chair to the left of the couch, leaned forward, an approaching
smile upon her beak. “So…Nosedive, ah...”
The
teen’s eyes rolled heavenward, and he sighed loudly. He switched off the TV and
finished his bar. In one fluid motion, his eyes swept over the whole group.
“Look, let’s get it all out in the open. Wildwing asked you guys to watch over
me. Got it. Not too thrilled about it, but got it. But this…you guys are
completely and totally cramping! Back off a little, will ya?”
Tanya
immediately clamped her beak shut and leaned back in her chair.
Nosedive,
fuming, was about to leave—to get some reprieve from the congestion—when he saw
Mallory staring at his waist. He did a double take and scowled at the space
between his jeans and his shirt—his scar. His jagged, browned-from-age, too
long, too noticeable, asinine scar.
Meeting Mallory’s eyes, he noticed the same look she had given him at
McDonald’s. She wanted answers about him—about his life. It was same look Tanya
had down at the washer, and even the same glare Wildwing sent him every so
often.
Damn it.
“Fine,”
he sighed with a growl and plopped down again on the couch. “What do you want
to know? Come on. Ask. You’ve been dying to. I’ll answer them, won’t answer
them, but you might as well ask, or else this week is just going to be
awkward.”
Mallory
jumped at the opportunity. “Where’d you get that scar?”
“Well…uh…I
guess I was like, nine, maybe ten, and I was living with these two people who
really were whacked and did some…things…they
really shouldn’t have, and…they pissed off the wrong person, and he kinda…uh…came
after me.” He winced at the memory and shook his head. “He had a grudge out for
me anyway, so…you can say I had it coming.”
“Can you be anymore vague?”
“I was
stabbed with a huge knife,” he grated, obviously uncomfortable when he crossed
his arms over his chest. “Is that bloody
more specific for you?”
Tanya’s
beak coiled into a tiny smirk. “ ‘Bloody,’ huh? And I heard you use the swear
‘buggar.’ Are you from the Vancel Providence?”
Nosedive
returned an impish smile as he scratched the back of his head. “Uh…I lived
there for a few months when I was five, so I caught a few of the accent and
phrases.”
Duke
pushed away from the wall he was leaning on and uncrossed his arms. “What does
Dragaunus want with you?”
Nosedive
shrugged. “Beats me…” He shook his head dejectedly and winced as a dull pain
still lingered in his neck. “Bad word choice.”
“Who is
Lucretia really to you?” Mallory
fired.
Nosedive’s
answer was instantaneous. “No comment.”
“Why
won’t you tell us?”
“Don’t
wanna.”
“But why?”
“Because.”
“That’s
not an answer! That’s a sidestep!”
Nosedive
let out a nervous laugh and slunk down the couch until he was as far away from
Mallory as the furniture allowed. “Look, my past is history, okay? Off-limits.
Hush-hush. Sealed documents—how would you like them, burned or shredded?”
“Why?”
Nosedive’s
eyesight darted from Mallory to Duke before shifting back just as fast. “Look,
you don’t tell me about your past, I don’t tell you about mine. Isn’t that the
unwritten rule, or did I just happen to miss ‘Meet Your Teammates Day’?”
Shifting
awkwardly, Duke once more crossed his arms. Tanya sat back in her chair, not
meeting Nosedive’s inquisitive eyes. Mallory didn’t move from her position nor
did her hard glare change, while Grin didn’t even open his eyes from mediating.
“That’s
what I thought,” Nosedive off-handed before flipping back on the TV.
Mallory
grabbed the remote, switched the TV off again, and placed the handheld device
on the coffee table. She met Nosedive’s shocked expression unflinchingly. “My
name is Mallory McMallard, and I’m a captain in the Puckworldian Legion. My
parents were both in the military. My mother was a lieutenant colonel before
discharging; my father stayed on until the invasion, finally securing a seat in
the Executive Generals. I had a brother, Aiden, who was nine years older than
me. He was also in the military at the time of the invasion, though stationed
outside of Kariya.” She paused for a moment, looking away. “He died trying to
liberate a mine in Leverse.”
A heavy
moment befell upon the team, and Nosedive felt a pang of guilt settle in his
gut.
Shaking
her head, Mallory continued in a less enthusiastic voice, “I went to the public
school until I was old enough to apply to the Commissioner’s Academy, where I
was at the time of the invasion.” A saucy smile etched itself upon her beak. “I
had a boyfriend named Terrance. He had good breeding, as my father would say,
but that wasn’t all that was good about him.” She smiled knowingly at Tanya,
who returned the look. “And…what else?...”
“Nah,
that’s enough. I’m good,” Nosedive replied flatly, his face twisted in disgust.
“I think I’ve had my fill of your love life.”
“So,
then, what about Lucretia?” Mallory posed uncouthly.
Nosedive
scowled. “I’ll pass. Next question.”
“Hey! I
told you about my life! It’s only fair—”
“Life’s
not fair. Get used to it. Next question!”
“Your
back? How long has it been bothering you, and why haven’t you come to me or
Wildwing?”
Nosedive
coughed as a sip of his ice tea protested in his throat, and he slammed his
glass to the table. He drew in a few, deep breathes and met the brash query,
eyes huge, terrified, and deadlocked upon Tanya. His face darkened several
shades of red.
She
smiled gracefully, albeit a bit concerned, as she returned the gaze. “Nosedive,
I’m sure that—”
Laughing nervously, the teenage duck inched off the couch. “Technically, you asked two questions, and m—my back’s not bothering me. It’s cool. Practically frigid. Why wouldn’t it be?”
Tanya just stared at him for a moment before hesitantly adding, “Well, y—you know it’s okay to be embarrassed about it—”
“I’m not embarrassed about anything!” His voice raised octaves. He was on the verge of hysterics. “I don’t have anything to be embarrassed about!”
“But…if, you know, Dragaunus did anything to—”
Nosedive frowned at her as he retreated from the group, his hands plastered to his lower back. “M—my lord did nothing to my back, okay? Lucretia’s just a friend! I’m not a traitor, or else you’d all be dead by now, and—and—! Why won’t you people just mind your business! Why must you always be forcing yourselves into my life? Don’t you have anything better to do with your day!”
He fled from the room, never looking back at the stunned team.
*^*^*
A shocked silence clutched the four ducks.
“Did he just call Dragaunus his lord?” Mallory asked pointedly, gesturing toward the door.
Duke nodded, awestruck and dumbfounded. “Yeah, or at least that’s what I heard.”
“I don’t care what Wildwing says.” Mallory stood as her body tensed rigidly. She seized her puck launcher from its holster on her back. “That kid’s a traitor! He has to be! We need to act now!”
“By doing what?” Duke countered. “Locking him in the brig? We don’t even have a brig anymore! And Wildwing’s gonna want evidence—”
“What more evidence do we need? You heard it! Dragaunus is his lord! No self-respecting duck would ever call Dragaunus his lord!”
Tanya shook her head. Ever since she had helped Nosedive and even gained his trust in tending to his injuries, he had been like a little brother to her. “I just can’t believe it,” she said out loud suddenly, though her voice was a strangled whisper. “He can’t be working for Dragaunus. H—He wouldn’t. Especially after his back…” Her voice trailed off to nothing.
Duke’s eyes narrowed; his tone was grim. “What about the kid’s back?”
Fidgeting with her omnitool, the team tech at first didn’t meet Duke’s glare. “I promised Wildwing I wouldn’t say anything.”
“Tanya, this isn’t the time to keep secrets from us,” Mallory demanded. “If you know something, say it.”
Tanya, after a brief, collecting pause, told them.
*^*^*
Nosedive tore into room and flopped face-down onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. His world was collapsing around him, and what was even worse than being helpless to stop it was not knowing what to do. Tanya knew about his back! She had to! There was no other explanation! But if she knew…she would tell Wildwing…
That was the one thing he knew he couldn’t handle—facing his brother. He had fought crazed, addicted drug lords, survived growing up in a place Dragaunus, himself, couldn’t conquer, and lived through his lord’s torture, but that was just the tip of blade—and Wildwing was nothing compared to that. Nosedive couldn’t stand there and see the broken expression and hollowed eyes, watch them to turn to distrust and betrayal—like Lucretia’s had. Like Falcone’s had.
He couldn’t handle that.
Not from Wildwing.
But is this any better? a cynical voice inside him argued.
A part of him wished—no, begged—to tell Wildwing. His older brother always seemed open to talk, and any problems in the past, Wildwing had helped. Maybe this time would be no different.
Just as that thought crossed his mind, he laughed darkly inward. He had known Wildwing for only nine months, and now to lay this upon him? Once Wildwing found out the truth, the morbid irony of the situation would be more than enough to have his brother disown him and willingly hand him back to Lord Dragaunus.
Seriously, for what was more sardonic than the Resistance leader’s own kid brother being a…a…
He couldn’t even bring himself to think it, let alone say it.
And if he couldn’t even admit it to himself, then he could never admit it to Wildwing, especially now…when things were so good.
An old saying replayed in his head.
All good things come to an…
Nosedive winced and clutched his pillow as an abrupt strike of pain besieged his lower back, terrorizing his body. He shivered uncontrollably, as it seared mercilessly. It came faster this time, more potent, and just added to the disconsolation sinking into his heart.
As another wave raged in his back, he stuffed his beak in his pillow to muffle the macabre scream that would have sounded. Drenched from the sweat poring off his forehead, writhing in his bed, grasping with beseeching fingers the pillow, the comforter, the bedpost, anything to stop the pain, Nosedive found himself physically unable to deal.
Rolling off his bed, the demoralized teen dashed toward the bathroom door, tugging his shirt off in the process. He discarded it on the floor and was less than two steps from the bathroom when another crushing blow of agony swarmed. Crumbling to the floor, he pressed his forehead upon the carpet, tears streaming from his eyes. His body shuddered; his mind was completely blank except for the resounding plea.
Make
it stop! Just make it stop! I’ll do anything! Just make it stop!
He gulped as he realized anything…anything was less painful than this…
Even serving Lord Dragaunus…
And it was then he realized exactly what that lizard was doing to him.
And it was then the door behind him swooshed open.
“Kid, we need to—KID!”
Nosedive stiffened as trembling hands grabbed his shoulders, urging him to sit up. His entire body went rigid at their feeling upon him, holding him, touching him—NOT AGAIN!
“Get away from me!” the boy shouted, tearing from Duke’s clutching hands and pushing away from the elder duck. Gripping the edge of his bed, Nosedive struggled to his feet, cringing as pain flamed from his taint. Duke took a step forward to help, but was confronted with, “What are you doing here? This is my room! I locked the door!”
“K—Kid…” Duke stammered, physically unable to speak.
Nosedive snatched his shirt off the ground and failed to comprehend the paling gray mallard or the horrified expression on his face. He ignored the terrified fluttering in his stomach and the wild beating of his heart at being so close and so alone with Duke. “Who the hell do you think you are coming in here?” He exploded as he pushed Duke feebly in the shoulder, shoving him toward the door with little effort. He felt as if he was going to pass out from the pain. “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re not above the law here! This is my domain! Now get out, stay out, and never pick my lock again, thief!” With one final push, Nosedive sent Duke staggering out of the doors, then slammed his keypad from the inside. The doors whooshed to a close.
Even before the noise sounded, Nosedive was in the bathroom, and the shower sputtered to life.
*^*^*
Duke still hadn’t gathered his bearings when he entered the Main Room less than five minutes later, his face ghost white, his beak agape with disconcert.
Mallory looked up from her puck launcher, still firm in her hands, and gasped, “Duke! What happened?”
The older mallard closed his beak, gulped hard, and reopened it to find he had nothing to say. He blinked a few times, utterly disturbed by what he had witnessed.
“Duke,” Tanya soothed, standing and clasping him on the shoulder. She urged him with a slight nudge. “Nosedive. What did he say? Is he alright?”
Duke bowed his head for the moment and contemplated how to express the truth—especially with Mallory in the room. She would be the most affected, he knew, and he would be hurting her just by bringing it up. But he had no choice. Raising his beak, the team gasped in unison at the tears evident in his eyes.
“Dragaunus uncovered his Stigma,” was the grave reply.
A stunned silence befell upon the ducks. No one dared to move. Even with the horrifying knowledge, they failed to comprehend the extent of the situation.
Duke turned wide, haunted eyes upon them. “He has a Stigma,” he repeated to no one in particular. He just couldn’t believe his own words.
“What is a…Stigma?” Grin’s gentle voice rumbled in confusion. He walked up to the startled mallard and placed a somber hand upon Duke’s shoulder.
Mallory
covered her beak as tears formed in her eyes. She shook her head in denial.
“No…Dragaunus wouldn’t have…” She didn’t venture any further.
Glowering
down at the redhead, Duke reiterated with strained fury the words Mallory spoke
a little over a month prior, “Dragaunus’ll do anything to get what he wants.”
“But
this…” Mallory muttered, breathless, “…this is torture. This is…”
“Sick. Disgusting. Hell!” Duke exclaimed, his face
regaining color as anger fueled his words. He deflated a moment later and shook
his head. There was nothing he could say; there was nothing to make the
situation different. All there was left was a burning abyss in his stomach and
the earnest need to sink his sword into a certain overlord.
“I…don’t understand…” Tanya hazarded to say. “What is a Stigma? And what does it have to do with Nosedive?”
“Do you want to tell it, or should I, sweetheart?” Duke asked Mallory, watching as the tears finally trickled down her cheeks.
Silent for only a moment, Mallory wiped her reddened face and nodded. “I’ll do it. I probably know more than you, anyway.” Swinging her legs onto the floor and placing her puck launcher on the table, safety on and magazine discharged, the redhead cupped her hands in her lap. She gestured to them to sit before taking a deep breath—
—And Drake One’s alarm blared through the Pond.
*^*^*
“It’s a brand,” Mallory started, her voice faltering from emotion. She blinked back the tears and tried to regain composure. That was easy to do when the Saurians attacked a local steel mill. Like the other ducks, even Grin and Tanya who didn’t understand in the slightest just how dire the situation was, she had been smoldering with anger at what Dragaunus had done to a seventeen-year-old kid, a boy who didn’t even know his place in the universe yet, and had fully prepared herself to not hold back when she met the Saurians.
And she didn’t.
And Duke didn’t
And Tanya didn’t.
Even Grin, the gentle giant with a heart-of-gold, didn’t.
And whatever Dragaunus had wanted, he surely didn’t acquire it.
Now, sitting around the kitchen, a pot of coffee and several cups later, Mallory tried her best to find the composure she had forced herself to have when she was an officer in the Puckworld military. Even during the invasion and the Resistance later, she was able to distance herself, to not be affected by what she had seen and what she had witnessed.
Now, suddenly, unlike anything she had ever faced, she found herself unable to be detached from the situation. She found herself touched.
“It’s an identification mark,” she continued in a less stoic tone, “a mark of enslavement. Once stained on the feathers or any part of the body, a Stigma bonds the wearer to the lord—physically. Tremendous pain is expelled from the taint, making living conditions almost unbearable for the wearer whenever he/she is out of a certain radius of the lord. The…slave—for lack of a better word—is crippled to the point of derangement.”
As Mallory affixed her teammates with a stare, she noticed that even with over half the team assembled at the kitchen table, it still appeared empty. The only one who could have joined them presently was Nosedive; however, as they had all agreed, it was better to leave him to cool down and rest, at least until everyone knew with what they were dealing.
“So that’s why Nosedive disappears before we leave to fight Dragaunus,” Tanya supplied.
Mallory nodded suddenly, her thoughts directed back to the conversation. “Exactly. Dragaunus probably has Wraith expel the pain right before the fight to distract us or even stop us from engaging in a battle with them. It’s also why Dive takes so many showers. It’s probably the only thing that dulls the pain—if it even does.” She exhaled forlornly and shook her head. “But it goes beyond that. Looking back, I can’t believe I missed the warning signs.”
“What warning signs?” Grin pressed through clenched teeth.
“Take his wounds, for instance. Remember the gash marks he had on his chest?”
“They just healed,” Tanya provided wryly. “He should have had scar tissue or something.” She was still fascinated.
Mallory fought the grimace that threatened to overtake her collected expression. “Once a slave has a Stigma and is connected to a lord, it is believed the only mark the slave is ever allowed to have is that of his/her lord.”
“Why?”
Mallory sighed exasperatingly. “Scars mark an individual, a person. What set one duck apart from another are the marks he/she acquires during a lifetime. A slave should have no individuality, no unique personality or even spirit other than the desire to serve his/her lord, and in association, shouldn’t be allowed such identification marks. The only mark that he/she is allowed to have is the Stigma and that alone.”
“So…you’re saying…Dive has this…Stigma. He’s been marked Dragaunus’s slave?” Tanya broached tentatively.
The redhead looked to Duke for acknowledgement and confirmation. The older mallard paused, cleared his throat, then nodded solemnly. “I’d like to get another look at it, just to be sure…but yeah, kid’s got it.”
“The mark on his lower back…that’s what the Stigma is?” Tanya asked, her voice tinted with misery.
“Generally that’s where it’s located,” Mallory answered swiftly, “but I’ve seen it on the shoulder and even the stomach.”
“Are there more of our fellow Avians stained with this taint?” Grin asked.
“See,” Mallory continued plaintively, “only the highest officers in the Saurian army are given the right to their own personal slave, which is why not many ducks were ever stained as such. Slaves in mines or camps probably haven’t even heard of a Stigma. Moreover, Saurians are only allowed one personally stained slave at a time. I’m not quite sure why, but it has something to do with their superstition. ‘Only on the back of one may the crest of another rest’ or something like that.”
“What can we do to help our friend?” Grin inquired calmly, yet concerned.
Catching Duke’s sympathetic eye for only a second, Mallory closed her eyes. “It’s more complicated than you think. The Stigma is created by Saurian magic, not ink. You can’t get it removed by any surgeon.” She inhaled deeply and continued hesitantly. What she had to say next was not easy to hear or digest. Even now, she felt the bile in her throat rise. “…A Stigma…it makes sure that your life is completely and utterly devoted to your lord; it binds you to your lord for life…but not your life. His/her life. If your lord dies…you die…with him/her.”
Tanya’s face paled as she sputtered, “But Nosedive! He shot Dragaunus!”
“The only one who can remove a Stigma is the sorcerer who put it on in the first place,” Mallory interrupted darkly. “Beyond that, there are only two other ways to escape the Stigma’s damnation. One, to kill your lord yourself, therefore eliminating who you are bound to—”
“But then the soul would still be lost…” Grin stated, not questioned.
By the look in Mallory’s eyes, no one needed any confirmation. “And…” she murmured in a broken whisper, “…suicide.”
A heavy silence overtook the room. Tears trickled from Mallory’s eyes, and gutted sobs racked her body. She knotted her fingers in front of her beak. Duke leaned over and wrapped a comforting arm around her shoulders, attempting to console her, but it was no use.
Tanya sat silent, even though her eyes welled up, and her hand trembled about her coffee cup. Characteristically quiet, the only thing that showed Grin’s emotions were his eyes, which reflected the unusual and wild sense of violent anger and raw hatred.
“Why?” Tanya ventured to say finally. “Why would Dragaunus do that to a hatchling?”
“You’ve heard of the Marked, right?” Duke inquired starkly.
“In passing. They’re nothing more than legend.” Waving a
dismissive hand, Tanya scoffed, “Taking high-risk missions, killing high-ranked
generals, actually reconnoitering the
“The Marked were the most potent and hazardous threats to Dragaunus’s reign on Puckworld,” Duke said as a matter-of-fact. “Only commanders on our side and Dragaunus really knew who they were, in case of traitors. And the only reason why Ol’ Lizard Lips knew was because he created the list of the Marked himself.”
“They were given their title,” Mallory replied with a sniffle and accepted a napkin from Tanya, “because it was generally accepted by those in that standard that they would one day be caught and be marked…with a Stigma.”
“Dive was one of the Marked?” Tanya questioned skeptically, while Grin arched an eyebrow.
“No,” Duke said slowly, “not Dive. Wildwing. In fact, both Wildwing and Canard were Marked. So to get at Wildwing—”
“—Dragaunus marked Nosedive,” Grin completed somberly.
“How do you two know so much?” Tanya posed squarely to Duke and Mallory.
After a brief pause, Duke confessed reluctantly, “I was of the Marked.” It wasn’t said with any excited vigor or pride; in fact, his tone was filled with despair and regret.
Mallory took even longer to speak. “Aiden…my b—brother…he had a Stigma.”
“I thought you lost your brother,” whispered Tanya.
A deep breath answered, followed by a wince. “He killed his lord in Leverse.” She wiped the tears from her eyes and fixed the group with a steady glare. Dwelling on the past would not change it. The only thing ahead of her was to help Wildwing’s brother, where she could not help her own. “What’s our next move? I doubt Wildwing knows exactly what it is. He probably didn’t know it was a Stigma.”
“Let me take another look at it,” Duke informed the group. “Before we alert Wildwing, I want to make sure it’s a Stigma.”
“How are you going to do that?” Mallory watched him guardedly as he stood from the table and walked toward the door. “I doubt Nosedive will just allow you to look at his back.”
Duke shrugged. “Tough love, sweetheart. It’s for his own good.”
He slipped from the room.
*^*^*
Rough hands…Constraining him, touching him, running over his chest, ruffling his feathers, ripping his shirt, clawing at his back…
He contorted, writhed to get away, but they still held him fast. He cried out, screamed, shrieked, but to no avail. The hands were there, pressing his chest against the cold, metal surface, prodding his back, squeezing his arms and legs to the point of bruising skin, crushing bones. Tears slipped from his eyelids as the pain increased to the point where he could no longer take it. MAKE IT STOP!
Another’s scream broke through his. Deeper, yelling, ordering them to end! He was boy, nothing more. An innocent! There was no need to bring him into the fight!—A distant voice, rushed and panicked. A vision, blurry from tears—a white duck, muscular, much like Wildwing—The image was gone in a second as more pain flourished in his back, this time more potent, fiery, sizzling, causing him to shut his eyes and squeal.
A braying laughter, haughty and savage, resounded over his cries and mocked his misery. The pain ripped through his back, unbearable, and the hands touched his feathers—
“AH!” Nosedive shot up in bed, his eyes wide, frantic and terrified. Breathing rapidly and shallowly, he placed a hand on his chest as his heart threatened to beat out of his chest. His wet shirt stuck to his sweat-drenched body, and the teen quickly kicked off his sheet and blanket. No way he would need them for the rest of the night.
Wiping the sweat from his brow and taking deep, calming breaths, the teen tilted his head back against the wall and closed his eyes. It wasn’t the first time he had that dream, and instinct told him it wouldn’t be the last. Though, at any moment, he was sure he would back living in Hell with Lord Dragaunus, and then this phantasm wouldn’t seem so bad.
As his breathing slowed and he gulped, Nosedive realized his throat was dry and raw. Did he scream? Oh Stars, he prayed that wasn’t the case. He listened in terrified silence for a few minutes, not even bothering to open his eyes. No footsteps. No concerned calls that not only Wildwing, but the whole team seemed to have down pat. He sighed deeply in relief. Either the rest of the ducks just didn’t care or went deaf when they slept. Either way, Nosedive was pretty content that no more interrogations were going to occur from this incident, and that eased his breathing even more so.
Sitting up, cross-legged, Nosedive swallowed again. He wasn’t going to get back to sleep any time soon anyway. He might as well quench his thirst.
He flipped his legs over the side of the bed and slid down the little height between his bunk and the floor. It was times like these, Nosedive reminisced, that he missed his father. On Puckworld, either the dreams had woken him up or his father’s calming voice and light shaking had—since he was prone to screaming. After Dad reassured him it wasn’t going on now, that he was safe and no one, not even Falcone, could touch him, then they would sit up and either watch the E.W.R. or just talk. A brief smile fell upon Nosedive’s face, as it always did when he thought of Dad. Then, the smile faded into a deep frown just as quickly as it came. His father was dead, and he felt something tear at his heart.
He pushed his thoughts aside when he entered the dark kitchen. A fleeting wariness forced itself into his mind at the sight of the percolating coffee pot on the counter, but he shrugged it off. Duke and Canard both had an affixation to coffee, and it wasn’t unlike either of them to leave the pot on twenty-four/seven/three-six-five.
Opening the refrigerator, he leaned against the door and grabbed the orange juice. Without a second thought, he undid the top and put the carton to his break.
“Good thing I don’t drink orange juice.”
Nosedive spat out the juice at the sudden address and whirled around, eyes all-consuming. In the darkest corner of the kitchen was a shadow, concealing everything in its grasp from mid-bench of the kitchen nook to the wall—except for a small, red light glowing in the darkness. Slowly, a form shifted under its cloak and leaned forward—Duke.
“However,” the former thief continued with an amused smirk, “I do hear coffee actually has more health benefits than orange juice. There’s extra,” he offered with a tip of his cup and a motion toward the pot. “Want any?”
“Why are you up?” Nosedive accused, his voice grating. He twisted back on the orange juice top and shoved it in the refrigerator. He glanced up at the clock. “It’s two-twenty.”
“I’ve been up much later than this kid,” Duke laughed. “I was a thief, remember? I was practically nocturnal.”
“Well, must be killer for you now.” With that, Nosedive headed toward the door.
*^*^*
It was now or never.
“Wait, kid!” Duke called fast. “Why don’t you sit down? Tell me what’s got you up so early.”
“I’m not up. This is me sleepwalking. I have a nasty habit of doing that. In fact, at breakfast, you could bring this up, and I have to be honest. I wouldn’t remember a—”
“You’re not as bad ass as you want everyone to believe,” Duke challenged harshly. His eyes narrowed toward Nosedive, and he stood, discharging his cup into the sink.
Nosedive’s eyes followed Duke dubiously, especially when the older man began toward him. “Yeah, well, you’re not as wise as you try to be. You know nothing about me.”
“I know you’re scared,” Duke protested uncouthly. Nosedive opened his beak to retort, which Duke quickly interrupted, “I know there’s a part of you that you lock away and hide from us, even from your brother. I know your past isn’t up to snuff, and you’re afraid when one of us, either Wildwing or Canard, or—Stars forbid—I find out, you think you’re dead. Isn’t that right?” He stopped millimeters from the boy, whose body language spoke volumes. Arms crossed, eyes averted to the side, beak ruefully lowered toward the ground—Duke knew how to push buttons, and Nosedive’s were definitely pushed. Only a few more…
“I know you have a taint on your back you want to keep secret from everyone, even yourself—”
The teen’s eyes closed as if he were in pain.
“—I know you weren’t with your father that long, or at least not as long as you want Wildwing to think—”
That did it. Nosedive’s eyes snapped open, and he lunged at Duke with fisted hand—perfect form, too, thumbs out from under the knuckles, perpendicular to the forefinger. If Duke wasn’t as good a thief as he was, he would have been decked. Kid was pretty good, too, though he still didn’t have a snowball’s chance in Hell at stopping Duke. The former thief simply twisted out of the kid’s range and delivered a blow to Nosedive’s gut as he passed. It wasn’t hard, or even remotely painful, but it certainly brought the boy to his knees.
Nosedive winced for a moment, grabbing his stomach, before twisting on the floor and sending a sweeping kick toward Duke’s kneecaps. Duke easily jumped over the attack, but it gave the desperate teen more than the necessary time to get onto his feet and into a fighting position. One hand on his waist, left leg slanted toward Duke, right hand lowered just slightly below the thigh—what Duke only suspected before, he knew now. Only a few people fought using that form of martial arts, and the awful knowledge made Duke cringe. He thought it had only been a few months, but it took more time than that to learn the form. A lot more.
“It must have been hard,” he muttered faintly, “growing up like that.”
“Growing up like what?” Nosedive’s raucous tone wasn’t a surprise.
Last button.
Sorry, kid.
“Growing up in gang.”
Nosedive didn’t move. He didn’t speak. He didn’t need to. His eyes grew wide, terrified. His face blanched; he breathed deeply, so loudly even Duke heard it from across the room. His chest rose and fell quickly, yet the teen didn’t drop his hands.
The only word spoken, croaked with disbelief, “How?”
Duke shrugged absently. “—Did I know?” A finger. “First clue, Lucretia, easily. She used to run the Blood Beaks with her boyfriend, Blade, and if I remember correctly, didn’t she go to prison some time ago? What was it for again?” He paused for a moment and furled an eyebrow. When Nosedive failed to fill in the blanks, Duke continued, “I believe it was for murder, kidnapping, child endangerment, contributing to the delinquency of a minor—”
“Stop!” Nosedive protested. “I know what she went through, okay? I don’t need a replay.”
“That was what? Seven years ago? Eight?” Duke leveled Nosedive with harsh glower. “So that would have made you ten, at the most. Like I said, must have been hard on you.”
Something flashed through Nosedive’s eyes. Fear? Memories? In the darkness of the kitchen, with only a single light from right above the oven, Duke could see the shadows in Nosedive’s eyes and realized just how young the teen was. While Nosedive was just over seventeen, in the eyes, Duke saw the little boy who was lost for so many years in a world of chaos and violence. His eyes, flickering the dimmed light, looked so guarded, so distrusting…and so haunted. Duke had been lucky to grow up with a overbearing, loving sister before plunging into the criminal world. He couldn’t imagine what it was like for a boy of not even ten years of age.
“Then there’s your name,” Duke said dryly as he put up a second finger.
“Nosedive?” the teen questioned incredulously.
“No,” Duke rebuked with a scoff, “Dauphin. Come on. How much more gang can you get?”
Nosedive’s face contorted into a deep scowl, and he briefly looked away. Kid was ashamed, Duke noticed surprisingly. He didn’t think the boy was ashamed to have joined a gang. While some might not want to have joined, many young teenagers about Nosedive’s age willingly consented to the initiation just to be “cool” or to belong to something. In fact, Duke had done it about that age—no, he was a little younger—and wasn’t at all ashamed of having been in a gang.
“And,” Duke inhaled, putting his thoughts aside. That was for another discussion. His chest puffed up in his suddenly heavy inhale. Another finger. “You don’t hide your fear of me very well.”
“I’m not afraid of you, Duke,” Nosedive snapped, though he tightened his fists.
Duke almost snorted. Almost. “Sure, kid. Whatever you say.”
“I’m not!” The teen growled and took a step forward. His beak was tense, but his eyes told a different story. “I could take you, thief!”
“Gang member.”
“Shut up!” Nosedive lunged again at Duke, grabbing the former thief by the waist and slamming him through the open doors and onto the hallway floor. Wrestling feebly, Nosedive growled when Duke rolled him onto his back. He whined as he was overpowered and rendered helpless.
“I’m not going to hurt you!” Duke screamed at the teen’s desperate and petrified face.
“Sure!” Nosedive barked back, situating his feet into Duke’s stomach and shoving the older mallard off of him. “That’s just what Falcone said to me before I got my scar!”
The kid certainly had gotten better at fighting since Falcone and his tussle; that was for sure. Duke slammed into the far wall, but he quickly recovered as Nosedive dove again. Grasping the teen’s extended wrist, Duke twisted Nosedive’s arm behind his back effortlessly. He pushed Nosedive face-first into the nearest wall, not painfully, but just enough that the kid got the idea he wasn’t going anywhere.
Still, squirming and struggling as he might, Nosedive tried to escape Duke’s grasp. Duke felt a pang of guilt, but he had no choice. It was for the boy’s good. They needed to know in order to help him. He twisted the boy’s arm just enough for pain to writhe through Nosedive and stop him from struggling—which it did.
*^*^*
Breathing hard, Nosedive moaned softly, pain still lingering his arm. It wasn’t half as painful as the searing in his chest or as frightening as the knot forming in his stomach, but still…First Tanya, now Duke knew about his back…but Duke knew more. Duke knew about his ties.
Face plastered to the wall, sweat dribbling from his bangs and forehead, Nosedive gulped and tried to calm himself.
He failed.
His world was crumbling around him…What was he thinking?! He knew it was coming. It was only a matter time. Still, he found himself praying through short gasps of air and pleading to the Stars for more time. He had just met Wildwing! Why did it have to end so quickly? Just another day; even just another hour. Anything…please…just at least to say good-bye to Wildwing? He didn’t get that with anybody before…but this was his big brother…
His big brother who loved him like no one ever had before…
A hand touched the back of his shirt. He cringed and knew what Duke was going for. Why didn’t he see it earlier?
His S—Stigma.
Stars, please…
Slowly, his shirt was lifted above his pajama bottoms, revealing his naked back. Cold air touched his sweaty feathers, sending a violent shiver through him. Duke shifted his grip on Nosedive, and the teen felt the older drake’s hand tug down his bottom a little. Then, lightly, lithe fingers probed the small of his back.
Stop, he thought dismally. He shivered again, this time uncontrollably. Stop…just stop...Images of his phantasm resurfaced, and Nosedive found himself unable to hold in his misery. Defiant tears rolled down his cheeks.
It was over, Nosedive inevitably believed, and he sunk against the wall. It didn’t matter what he did now. Duke would tell Wildwing, and then his older brother would condemn him to his fate. It couldn’t watch Wildwing’s eyes change…he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He wouldn’t survive seeing Wildwing’s hatred and pity befall upon him.
Gutted sobs escaped his beak against his will. He couldn’t hold them in.
It was over…everything.
He lost Wildwing.
“Duke!” a shrill, shocked voice called.
Nosedive opened his eyes with an abrupt snap and spotted Mallory down the hallway, dressed in a tight tee-shirt and loose pajama bottoms. Next to her stood a bewildered Tanya and a surprised Grin, both in their nightwear as well. Striding down the hallway, Mallory seized Duke’s hands and ripped them away from Nosedive. The teen quickly whirled around, pushing his back against the cold wall.
“Duke! What are you doing?” Mallory confronted madly. “You said you would check, not clobber!”
“I had no choice,” Duke defended. “He wouldn’t have just let me look!”
“Did you even ask?”
Rapt attention focused upon the two screaming drakes, Nosedive tore away when one hand fell upon his shoulder and another grabbed at his shirt.
“Don’t touch me!” He shrieked wildly at Tanya, backing up the hallway.
“Kid, we’re here to—”
Nosedive’s indescribable stare silenced Duke at once, and the frantic teen shuddered, imploring toward the former thief, hysteria in his voice. “Please don’t tell him! Please! You can’t! He doesn’t know! He doesn’t know any of it! The S—Stigma! The Blood Beaks! Please…just don’t tell him! H—He’ll…He’ll just…” Nosedive shook his head, already understanding the futility of it all.
They didn’t understand.
Wildwing wouldn’t either.
Ever.
Nosedive fled down the hall, a fierce burning searing through his chest.
It was over.
*^*^*
The ducks let Nosedive have his privacy for the rest of the night and into the morning hours. After Duke confirmed their worse fears, they believed it was best to let the teen compose himself, since they could only speculate what the boy was feeling.
It was past twelve when Mallory finally volunteered to check on him. With her brother’s ordeal, she was the best one suited to help and calm Nosedive.
She knocked periodically on Nosedive’s door for a minute, and when no answer came, she entered the room. Her beak dropped at the sight of the clean and even mopped floor. It was spotless! So, the teen did know how to clean up after all. If she didn’t feel so sorry for him, she would have told Wildwing to make him wash his own dishes and clothes from now on.
Walking around the bed, she gasped. The room was immaculate. The bed was made perfectly, edges pulled and tucked under the mattress, while the floor was void of its usual remnants of food containers and wrappers. The posters that once hung from the ceiling were down, rolled, and placed on the bed. She started toward the bathroom and peeked inside the open closet door. She was two steps passed the closet when she stopped in her tracks. She blinked disbelievingly, then backpedaled. Her muscles tensed rigidly. Her mind denied what her eyes saw right in front of her.
There, sitting in the middle of the walk-in room, were all the clothes she had brought for Nosedive—folded in the original bags. On the top of them were the receipts.
He had worn hardly any of them.
A flash of light glistened across her eyes, captivating her attention. She turned toward the right and shook her head in denial. Her heart nearly jumped from her chest, and she couldn’t believe her eyes.
Hanging from the mirror’s edge was Nosedive’s necklace, shining brilliantly in the overhead light. Next to it was his comm. unit. Stuffed into the mirror’s frame was a single piece of paper.
“No…”
*^*^*
Nosedive walked into the opening between the crates of the warehouse, his brand new boots screeching on the concrete floor. From his shoulder hung a duffel bag he had stolen from Wildwing’s closet, bunched outward from being overstuffed. He took a deep breath and stopped directly under a single, illuminated light.
He slowly meandered around, taking it all in. Had it really been two months ago since he teleported here?
He closed his eyes, and macabre images flashed through his mind Binding his wrists were the energy bonds, restraining his movements, while streams of sweat dripped down his beaten and mutilated body. His wounds burned as the salty substance mingled with his blood and seeped in and from his wounds. A dull headache weighed heavily down upon his being from exhaustion. Pain overwhelmed his mortified body. Desperate disconsolation edged into his heart, as he knew there was no reprieve when the Saurians teleported after him.
And it was going to happen all over again.
There was no escaping this time, Nosedive realized miserably. This was forever.
A shimmering sounded behind him, reminding him too much of the sound of pixie dust. He needn’t turn to know who was there. The Saurians always knew where he was. It was suffocating, unnerving, and most of all, downright frightening.
“So…you have returned, my slave.”
Nosedive shivered at the coarse language, unconsciously knowing the Saurian used it just to make his quiver. Sighing in defeat, the teen beseeched uncertainly toward the ceiling for help, any help, but knew none was forthcoming. The anguish twisted in his gut more excruciatingly than any sharp knife. He was trapped.
“Yes.”
“I knew it wouldn’t take long until you embraced your place.” His lord enjoyed his misery. “You have made the right decision to return to me…willingly.”
No, Nosedive resigned sorrowfully, he didn’t make the right decision. He made the only decision. He had no other options. This was his destiny…and he accepted it.
The teen turned slowly, his shoulders slumping, his head bowing. He would have sunk to his knees, as was required of one in his stature, if not for the red finger that touched his beak and, almost affectionately, tilted his head upward.
Lord Dragaunus’s scowl twisted into a hellish, frightening grin. “You failed to tell your brother, did you?”
“I couldn’t,” Nosedive confided brokenly. “They discovered it on their own...my lord.”
“And what did they say?”
“I left before they decided what to do with me.”
“They would not have accepted you for whom you are,” Lord Dragaunus affirmed scathingly. “However, in time, they will. In time, your brother will.”
Nosedive winced.
“Yes, Nosedive,” Dragaunus assured, “you will meet your brother again but do not despair. The next time you see him, he will have realized what you have accepted.”
Slanting his head to the
side, Nosedive admitted silently, I don’t
understand.
Lord Dragaunus’s smirk demonized. “That you belong to me.”
Despite the feverish feeling sweeping over him, despite the horrible, condemning knot burning in his stomach, despite everything screaming at him the opposite, Nosedive found himself, in his heart, agreeing.
To Be Continued…