Chapter 2

Iwanted to run away screaming, to find a dark place to hide in. How had he found me, so far away from my house? Why return now when he’d been quiet for so long?

He can’t get me in here. If he could, he already would have.

Those words only partially reassured me. He’d never spoken to me before. In fact, I didn’t know of anyone having ever been spoken to by one the way this Walker just had. It then struck me that the other Beasts and Walkers in the Mist were giving him a wide berth, like they had done at my house all those years ago. How could they not in light of such a display of power? Inside the Observatory, too, people were giving me a wide berth.

Frazzled, I started moving again, more out of need to distance myself from the Walker than out of any real desire to proceed with the ‘interview’ process. At this point, I was entirely fine with not being selected. I wasn’t as strong as I had presumed, and I had not as thoroughly recovered from that traumatic experience as I’d thought. But the wretched creature immediately followed suit, his shadowy claws raking the surface of the window with an aggravating sound, only to resume his tapping whenever I stopped walking.

A movement at the edge of my vision drew my attention. I jerked my head right to see the same blond agent that had stared at me earlier approaching me. I stopped walking with a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. My jumbled thoughts no longer made any sense. A part of me was hoping he would tell me this thing was over, so that I could go back to whatever room had been temporarily assigned to me, curl up into a ball, and wallow in self-pity. Another part of me, that stupid pride I’d inherited from my father, and stubborn streak passed down by my mother, refused to be sent packing. I hadn’t bailed, despite my fear. I deserved to go through.

Heart pounding, I waited with bated breath for the agent to pronounce my sentence.

“Ms. Connors, please follow me to the next stage,” the agent said with an oddly soft, almost youthful voice for such an imposing and stern-looking man.

My heart leapt in my chest, and I gaped at him in disbelief. Without a word, he turned and started heading towards a door at the opposite end of the Observatory. But before he did, I could have sworn the ghost of an amused smile had stretched his lips.

Two dozen pairs of eyes burned holes in my back as I silently followed the agent. I couldn’t recall anyone else going through this specific door—at least, not since my arrival. Those who had not been retained had been escorted back down the escalator. The others—only a couple as far as I had noticed—had been taken through another door, closer to the center of the room. Like me, a Mistwalker had followed them, but at a respectful distance, displaying none of the antagonistic behavior my stalker did.

That same stalker was now banging on the window, not to break it, but apparently to draw my attention back to him. We hadn’t followed the window on our way to that far exit, but cut through the large, circular room. The Mistwalker seemed angered to have thus been cast aside. He took the long way around, batting away the few Mist Beasts and Walkers who hadn’t moved quickly enough out of his path. There was something beyond creepy about the way his eyes never strayed from me, and the obsessive urgency with which he followed me.

He reached the door at the same time we did, his palms once more pressed against the window. The agent waved his hand in front of some kind of bio scanner on the wall, and the large door swished open. To my surprise, a very long hallway—at least two hundred meters in length—stretched before me. The reinforced windows lining its left side, while a solid white wall lined the right side. Whatever doubt I’d had before vanished in that instant: they wanted candidates stalked by a Walker.

“Please, follow this corridor all the way to the end,” the agent said. “Further instructions will be given to you at the appropriate time.”

I wanted to ask what appropriate time that would be other than when I reached what seemed to be an elevator door with no button to call it. Biting my tongue, I gave him a stiff nod and proceeded as told, shadowed by my creepy companion. When the door closed behind me, a sudden impression of being trapped washed over me. I didn’t suffer from claustrophobia, but right this instant, the walls felt as if they would soon start closing in on me. Worse still, I began wondering what could possibly lie beyond those doors. What if I was being offered as some sort of sacrificial lamb to the Mistwalker?

Refusing to give in to paranoia, I forced myself to put one foot in front of the other. My wretched stalker had resumed dragging his claws on the glass, clearly trying to irritate the hell out of me, and likely to frighten me. He was some sort of bully, and I wasn’t one to allow myself to be pushed around.

Maybe a third of the way in, I stopped advancing to glare at him. “Cut it out!” I said, although he probably didn’t hear me through the thick windows. “You’re not scaring me with this, just annoying the fuck out of me. If you’re going to stalk, do so in silence.”

Although I’d known it would be as effective as throwing stones at the rain to tell it to go away, it had felt good to take an assertive stance. I’d let my fears overwhelm me from the moment that woman had mentioned not to be afraid before we disembarked from the shuttle. That wasn’t… Or rather, that was no longer me.

To my surprise, the Mistwalker stopped and pressed his palm to the glass, turning to fully face me. He seemed to wait expectantly for me to do something. On instinct, I took a couple of steps towards the window to have a better look at him. Despite the absence of features on his face where only his yellow eyes glowed, he clearly perked up at this response. Aside from the way his ethereal body moved closer to the window, I couldn’t say how I seemed to know what expression flittered over his shadowy face.

He placed his other palm against the window, his eyes glowing with accrued intensity. With a will of its own, my right hand pressed against his left. He stared at my hand with an air of disbelief and rubbed his over mine, as if he could feel it through the thick glass. My palm tingled. I couldn’t say if it was real or just my imagination messing with me.

“Naima…” the Mistwalker whispered in my head with something akin to reverence.

The ghostly, ethereal sound of his voice sent a shiver down my spine. But it wasn’t fear that had provoked it. It was beautifully haunting, deep, and gravelly, and yet breathy.

I opened my mouth to ask him his name when the sudden appearance of a bright light on his side of the window, at the other end of the corridor startled the both of us. My head jerked right to look at it, stunned to see some sort of luminous globe moving towards us. I then noticed the most stunning creature following it. A giant seahorse, the size of a five-year-old child, with a white unicorn horn and giant fairy wings, was flying towards the light, mesmerized, like I had been by the Cthulhu Beast. The creature looked diaphanous, its body shimmering with soft, pastel colors, and translucent scales that shone like so many diamonds. With the trail of what I could only call pixie dust behind it, you could have sworn the creature had come right out of a fairy tale.

I yelped at a loud bang on the window. My head snapped back towards the Mistwalker who, had he possessed features, would have likely been snarling. Could he actually be jealous? I no sooner cast a sideways glance at the seahorse, unable to resist its lure, than the Mistwalker viciously clawed the glass before darting towards the stunning creature. I immediately started running forward towards its location.

“NOOOOO!” I shouted when the Mistwalker grabbed the seahorse by long and slender neck and aligned its face with his.

To my surprise, the fairy didn’t struggle or attempt to flee. It remained passive and didn’t even try to continue pursuing the light sphere as its line of sight with it had been severed by the Mistwalker. Even when his assailant began siphoning its lifeforce, the seahorse fairy stayed stoic.

I frantically tapped on the window. “Stop! Stop! Please!”

He abruptly stopped. That last word appeared to have gotten through to him—although I still couldn’t be certain he could hear me through the glass. He turned his yellow eyes towards me, and our gazes locked in a silent contest.

“Please, Mistwalker. PLEASE!” I pleaded again when he appeared intent on resuming draining the seahorse.

His entire body seemed to relax, and he looked at me with what I could only interpret as a satisfied expression.

He enjoys this! He enjoys being begged. He enjoys this power…

He slowly glided towards me, his fingers still firmly wrapped around the creature’s neck.

“Zain,”he said in my mind.

“Zain?” I repeated, forcing myself to focus on him despite my burning desire to seize the opportunity of an up-close view of the fantastic creature. “Is that your name?”

He didn’t respond, but again, I knew beyond any doubt that he was smiling. He once more pressed the palm of his free hand against the window while the other one held the seahorse next to him, at eye level. The sudden certainty that he was daring me, tempting me even, to look at the fairy—and face the consequences—blossomed with perfect clarity in my mind.

He’s testing me. But why?

“Well, Zain, I don’t need to tell you my name as you already know it,” I said, keeping my eyes locked on his face. “Now that the introductions have been made, I would like you to please let that creature go.”

“Why should I? It’s just a Spark. It’s not even sentient. I can feed from it.”

I gaped at him in disbelief. “There’s no way you can still be hungry after that massive beast you siphoned,” I argued.

Zain puffed out his chest, and his smug, throaty laughter echoed in my head. It was surprisingly pleasant.

“I was magnificent, wasn’t I?”he asked.

Narcissist…

Although I was starting to think he was rather a psychopath. His gratuitous violence towards the Cthulhu Beast, his cold indifference at taking the life of the ‘Spark’ simply because it had taken my attention away from him, his need for praise were ticking a number of the right boxes.

“Yes, you were,” I said, playing along, but also with sincerity. “With your much smaller size in comparison, I didn’t think you stood a chance, but it was the other way around.”

“Naturally,” he said with the same unrepentant ego.

“Please, let it go,” I repeated.

Zain immediately stiffened, and his hand tightened around the seahorse’s neck. That my mind had wandered back to the fairy mid-praise apparently stung him.

“You don’t need it,” I added quickly. “Clearly, you are the strongest Mist Being here. All the others, Walkers and Beasts alike, cowered before you. What would feeding on this wispy fairy do for you? Please.”

“I like when you beg me, Naima,”Zain said, mollified by my words.

“So I’m starting to see,” I said with a bit more sarcasm than I intended.

To my surprise, he didn’t take offense. Chuckling in that sexy fashion of his, he tossed away the seahorse. I almost turned to look at it, but thankfully caught myself at the last minute. However, from the corner of my eye, I saw the light sphere lure it back from whence it came. I instantly knew then that the Fourth Division—the official designation of the Men in Black’s organization—had sent the fairy out as part of my interview process.

“Why are you following me?” I asked.

“Because you’re mine,”Zain replied, slightly stunned, as if the answer was self-evident. “Because you want me to, even though you convince yourself otherwise.”

“That’s insane. You sound like a stalker,” I replied, feeling a little creeped out.

Zain recoiled, as if I was the one talking crazy.

“Of course, I do. Because I am,” he replied, sounding baffled. “That’s what you made me.”

“WHAT?!” I exclaimed, taking a step back away from him.

Before he could answer, the chime of the elevator at the end of the corridor echoed through the empty space. My head jerked towards it only to see the door slide open, beckoning me. I cast a sideways glance at Zain, feeling somewhat reluctant to end the conversation there.

“Don’t go,”the Mistwalker ordered in a commanding voice.

For some reason, that prompted me into challenging him instead.

“I must,” I replied in a gentle but firm tone.

He followed me as I made my way towards the lift. To both our surprise, as we approached the end of the corridor, a door opened on his side of the window. Mist already swirled within, indicating it would be safe for him to enter. We stopped and exchanged another glance. I didn’t know what kind of fucked up mind game the Fourth Division was playing with us, but I wanted to get to the bottom of this.

“Don’t go!”Zain repeated.

I gave him an apologetic smile then entered the lift. There appeared to only be three levels, with this one being the middle one. However, I didn’t have to interact with the panel. Seconds after I stepped inside, the door closed on the sight of Zain staring at me with glowing eyes.