Becoming Chaos

II - Ascending Light

He took another bite of the red fruit.

He didn’t seem to notice that a trickle of apple juice ran down from his lips to his chin. “Any questions?” he asked.

“A Soul what?” I demanded. My blood rushed to my face as I resisted a great urge to leap at him.

“Soul Dealer,” he answered shortly as though I bored him.

As if that explained why a monster attacked me and how my wounds disappeared. “You are crazier than I thought.” I huffed. “You know what? Riverwax or whatever your name is, I give up,” I said as I raised both my hands in the air in a dramatic show of surrender. “If you would not quit playing your games on me, I will go now and I will tell the cops that you kidnapped me.” Turning away from him, I opened the closet door and just as I suspected, the mirror inside was shattered into a thousand pieces. I stepped to the side to avoid the bits of glass that fell down in a rain of shards to the floor. As the pieces settled, I rummaged through the clothes that were folded in neat stacks, looking for a decent- sized shirt that I can change into.

“Good luck with that, tiger,” he jested. “I doubt the police will believe you.”

“I told you not to call me tiger!” I shouted, flinging a thick wooden hanger at him with full force.

I thought I’d hit him.

As I turned to look, the hanger was in his spare hand. He took another bite of the apple as he locked gazes with me. How is he so fast? “Why wouldn’t the police believe me? I’m not a liar. I will tell them the truth.”

He chuckled. “Sounds like a bad plan. Listen, little girl,” he said as he tossed the apple core to the trash can beside the table. He wiped at his chin like a kid and ran his fingers through his hair. His shirt lifted a little as he straightened, showing a strip of his fair skin above his jeans. “Do you seriously think that the cops will believe you when you say that a monster with yellow eyes bit your shoulders? Where are the wounds, then? Plus, I take it that the police will be more interested as to why an eighteen- year- old was drinking at The Dead Rabbit,” he shrugged as he saw my eyes widen. “I saw your fake ID. I don’t get why you lot like drinking. What’s all the fuss about alcohol? It’s bitter and expensive.”

Same, I wanted to say. However, I kept my mouth shut. He had a point. No one would believe me. I could not even believe myself.

“Now you see reason, good job, tiger,” his lips curled into a smile. “So, answer my question, why is Vladimir after you?”

“I don’t know any Vladimir. I don’t know who you are talking about.”

“Is this like a culture for New Yorkers? Or teenagers of this century in general? You almost exchanged faces with Vladimir in a passionate make- out session, yet you did not know his name?” he said, a slight amusement tinging his voice. “You take speed dating to a next level. I don’t even kiss after the third date.”

“I was not dating him!” I snarled as my hands closed into fists at my sides. “And you are not in any position to judge who I kiss, you are not my mother!”

“Oh, I hit a nerve,” he chuckled as he set the wooden hanger down. “I apologize if I seemed judgmental. I just can’t help it. You regular people and your ways are strange.”

“Regular people?” I asked. “So, what are you now? Some kind of authority above me? Quit talking down on me,” I flustered.

“I am not talking down on you. What I say is true. In a sense, yes. We Soul Dealers are not like you regulars. We are somehow the same, but with just a bit more.”

Werewolves. Soul Dealers. Vladimir. Every time this man uttered a word, I get more confused. “Stop right there. You are definitely getting crazier by the second. You are not making any sense to me,” I said, not bothering to look for a change of clothes anymore. I was too annoyed to care.

“Your situation doesn’t make sense to me too, tiger,” he replied as he turned around and rummaged through the shopping bag. “I’m hungry,” he declared. “Would you want instant ramen? Or oatmeal? Oh,” he gasped as though he found a secret treasure among his hoard of groceries. “Do you want raw meat? I have Wagyu beef,” he added, waving a sealed styrofoam tray of meat cubes in the air.

That does it! I leaped before I knew it. My legs felt as though they moved on their own volition. In a flash, I was no longer behind the closet doors. Before I could stop myself, I was aiming my splayed fingers to his throat. I wanted to choke him. I wanted to rip out his tongue and see if he could still talk nonsense after I dismember him.

But I didn’t.

Just like what he did earlier by the door, he caught both my wrists in a casual manner. With one hand. Without much effort, he threw me over and pinned me to the bed with his weight. Both my arms were stuck motionless in his steely grip. He looked at me and I thought for a moment that his hazel eyes turned gold. I blinked hard and as I stared at him again, his eyes were the same. “Let me go!” I protested, wriggling my body like an earthworm drenched in salt.

He waved the styrofoam packet of raw beef in my face. “You don’t want this?” He asked. I cursed at him in a way that all of my foster moms would not be proud of. “Strange. I thought you would now love raw meat,” he said, letting my hands free. “I tell you, K-would you mind if I call you K? Kaylene is such a mouthful- leaping at someone does not make for a good first impression.” He stood up and started to walk away. “I am going to the kitchen. I am having lunch. If you still don’t want to answer my question, or if you want to go, you can go. Door’s open.”

Ugh, I do not understand men, I thought as I distracted myself from the confusion brewing in my mind. I sat up in bed. How the hell does he move like that? I wondered for a moment, but then a memory occurred to me.

The figure tossed the leather-clad abomination to the dumpster in a crash as if he weighed nothing.

The stranger -Vladimir - was strong, and this crazy River boy just tossed him aside like a discarded packet of gum. Who is this guy? What have I gotten myself into? I wondered as I stood up and followed him to the pantry.

The smell of sauteed onions and butter filled the small confines of the kitchen. I glanced around. It looked normal, just like the others I’ve been in. Nothing from the tiled floor and yellow-wallpapered facades screamed out-of-this-world. I looked at him. Crazy guy’s back was unto me. He was busying himself in front of the stove, mixing whatever he was cooking in a cast-iron skillet with a large wooden ladle.

“So,” he declared without looking at me. “You decided to stay, huh? I thought you’ve had enough of me?”

My stomach grumbled. “I’m hungry,” I said after a moment of hesitation. I swallowed the bitterness in my mouth. “But mostly, I still want answers.” I tried for a softer tone. Maybe if I wasn’t hostile, he’d be more cooperative.

“Do you like pepper?” he asked, raising a pepper mill in the air. He didn’t wait for my response and proceeded to sprinkle what seemed to me was enough black pepper to match the Arabian desert. “No answers yet, K. For now, have some steak,” he announced as he transferred what he was cooking into a plate in front of me.

The aroma invaded my nostrils and I found myself rushing to the counter in a split-second. I grabbed the silver fork and--

“Ouch! Son-of-a!” I cursed as I felt my palm burn upon contact with the utensil. “Why is the fork so hot?! Did you heat this on purpose?” The ship named the 'my plan on not being hostile' has sailed. Letting the fork fall to the tiled floor, I stared at my palm. A patch of my skin was burned in the shape of the utensil's handle.

“Oh, I forgot,” he scratched his head, looking upset for the first time. “Silver. I’m sorry. Here, use this instead,” he added as he handed me a copper-coated set of cutlery. “I did not intentionally heat that fork. It’s just that you are now allergic to silver.”

Here we go again. “What on earth are you talking about? I am not --”

“Hush,” he shushed at me. “Have a seat,” he said, pulling a tall chair out of nowhere. “Promise me that you’ll answer all my questions, and I will tell you everything I know as you eat. Fair enough?”

I took a deep breath. As I relaxed, I felt the burning sensation in my palm dissipate. I stared at my injured palm in disbelief as I watched the burn mark disappear. Shaking my head, I ignored whatever was on my mind and took the seat he offered. “Okay. I promise, but you go first. Tell me everything. Deal?”

He smiled. My heart skipped a beat as I saw him beam. There was a deep dimple on his left cheek which I thought was cute. Oh, Kaylene. STOP. Now is not the time to be crushing on crazy men!

“Deal,” he replied as he sat down across me. He ran his fingers through his hair for what I thought was the hundredth time. “I told you earlier you were sick, remember? Your reaction to silver is proof of that.”

“How?” I asked, my brow raised.

“Kaylene Summers,” he said. His voice was soft as he stared into my eyes. “You are now a werewolf.”