Harkening

Chapter 8:

The Right Hand of Darkness

~an excerpt

“You are the man, Tiny!” Ember blasted. I thought my ears would bleed. I stumbled after her, my right hand on her shoulder, my left tucked into my pocket where it wouldn’t flop around like a ragdoll’s. I tried to stand straight, walk straight, see straight, at least enough that nobody would bother giving a second look at the girl with the torched face and half-buzzed haircut. But given the few features I’d managed to distinguish in the flood of color and light around me, I’d be one of the least strange people slumping through a tattoo parlor at this hour.

Then it hit me.

I didn’t look like me.

Nobody knew who I was.

And I had no idea how I was supposed to feel about that.

We’d stopped in a hallway that smelled of old drywall. The vinyl flooring under our feet dazzled my eyes with black sparkles. I shut my eyes, trying not to fall over. A sliver of light struck my face. I cracked one eye open again and realized that the door to the manager’s office was not closed. Still, Tiny knocked on the door.

“Hey, Geovani?”

No answer.

“Geovani…” Tiny sang.

“Busy,” a gruff voice stated.

“Hey, man, you got a prospective here!”

“Appointment?”

“No, no appointment.”

“No appointment, no prospective.”

Tiny glanced over his shoulder at Ember and winked. Then he put his palm to the door and pushed it back some. A thin layer of smoke hung onto the ceiling.

“Geo, the prospective came with Ember.”

The slight sizzling noise I hadn’t even realized I was hearing stopped.

“Oh.”

Tiny chuckled and pushed the door all the way in. A stark office space opened before us. Though sufficiently furnished, it was comparatively void of color. Instead of floor to ceiling menageries of paintings and pictures, tall bookcases stood guard along the walls. As the door swung back to its resting place, an ornate desk appeared, then a man sitting behind it. A large magnifying glass hovered on a stand in front of him, a watch the object of his attention. He waved us in without glancing up, his long black hair obscuring his face.

“Yell if you need anything,” joked Tiny. “If I don’t come back right away, knock out the power.”

He closed the door behind him. I staggered, one eye half open. Geovani did not raise his head. Ember stared at him like she was trying to bore a hole in the top of his head. Moving his fingers with complete precision, he lifted gears and timing components out of the watch. Finally, in a soft but clear voice, he spoke.

“Ember, we talked about this.”

“I know.”

“Then why are you here?”

“Emergency situation. The kind the Overlords don’t need to know about.”

I felt my legs sagging underneath me. My brain turned to fog.

“You good?” Ember whispered.

“No.”