Across Time: Book One

Chapter 6 [Revision #1: 08/07/04 | Revision #2: n/a]

"I don't know what to do!" Sen wailed to himself on his way back to his childhood home. It was located in one of the seediest parts of town, literally surrounded on all sides by drug houses, brothels, and other unsavory places. Scruffy heads turned and bloodshot eyes examined his slender form as he strode unafraid down the filthy street. The criminals -- who had the audacity to conduct business in broad daylight -- recognized him. Figuring that he was no trouble, they returned to their transactions.

Number 27 Ucliss Street was a tiny wooden house in sad need of repair. Fallen shingles from the roof littered the brown lawn, mixed in with exterior pain peelings and discarded refuse. He disgustedly walked through the knee-high weeds -- hoping that nothing sinister had decided to make a home in it -- and opened the unlocked front door.

"Who's there?" asked a slurred voice from somewhere in the small house. Senneth ignored it and stepped over the threshold. The smell of old liquor, kriss weed, and several layers of dirt assaulted his nose. Sen nearly took a step back into the reasonably fresh air outside before he caught himself. With determined steps, he strode across the living room and toward his sanctuary.

"I said, 'who's there'!" The harsh voice was louder and coming from the direction of his sister's room. Once again, he pretended not to hear.

Miraculously, his room was exactly as he'd left it two days ago. Clean clothes covered the small single bed, dirty clothes covered the beige-carpeted floor, and his box of treasure was still hidden in the back of his narrow closet. Contained within were the few things of value he'd accumulated over the years. There was a brilliant red blossom -- an eternity flower -- that bloomed only once every century. It was said that it would cause a bond to form if given to someone very special, one so strong that it would last forever. He'd been out exploring as a child on one of the few trips he'd taken outside the city's walls and found it growing all by itself beside a clear spring. And even then his ideal mate had been male in his mind's eye.

The second treasure was a shiny, smooth, iridescent stone found in a riverbed. It, too, was from that wonderfully sad trip. His mother, who hadn't been quite right after his father had been killed over a bad deal with their corrupt government, had grown even worse after that vacation. Synael was perpetually ill and nothing seemed to help her. Eventually she just faded away, dying peacefully in her sleep one cold winter morning. Sen had been nine, his sister fourteen.

Now, at sixteen, he figured that it was better that she had moved on. It would have wounded her deeply to see the neighborhood go straight to Hell. The flower and the pebble were carefully packed away just as the door flew open, doorknob banging against the wall and probably leaving an indentation.

"So you came back," Azael sneered. Her narrowed eyes were bloodshot from smoking her narcotic of choice and he could tell that she was more than a little hung over from the night before. His sister was shorter than he -- and even fragile looking -- but she exuded an air of authority and strength that usually had him cringing. Today, though, he could care less about her.

When he grabbed a large bag and began shoving his remaining possessions into it she began spouting a stream of words designed to get a rise out of him. "You moving out? Did some perverted low-life make you his bitch?"

Soon, the only thing standing between him and freedom was his older sister. Sen gazed down at her, eyes emotionless, and said very carefully, "Please move out of my way."

Azael smiled cruelly. "Make me."

For a moment he didn't move or say a word. His eyes never wavered from her face, never showed even a quick flash of fear. Then a profound amount of pity flooded them even as he bodily moved her aside. "You could have been someone great, Azael. You could have done something real important with your life." He sighed heavily. "I'm so happy Ma isn't here to see this."

Fury contorted her lovely features into a twisted mask of ugliness. She snarled at him, sounding more animal than person, probably envisioning his gruesome death by her small hands. Steps quick, but not at fleeing pace, Sen left his former safe haven and childhood home. Even if things didn't work out with Kilandreau for whatever reason, he knew that he would never again return to Number 27 Ucliss Street.