"Lusus Naturae Chapter 3" by Natalie J Walsh

 ::Chapter Three::

Thud… Thud… The incessant ups and downs of the ball being thrown angrily to the ground only to find itself launched back into the hands of the boy who controlled its fate. Hot tears ran down his freckled cheeks in frustration he brought a hand up to vigorously wipe away the shameful things. His golden eyes blazed with the reflection of fire that surrounded his feet, the flames seemed as though to merrily dance about, enticing his rage and fueling the hatred that bubbled so near the surface.

The other children chose wisely to stay a distance from him, for all could see the blackness of his mood as clearly as they recognized the control and power of his Gift at such a youthful age of ten. The poise he exhibited was unusual for his age, however not unheard of. Any child who practiced for hours a day, rarely thought of anything else, and had had a private tutor since the age of three was likely to have such strong capabilities.

This had changed now that his parents were gone, so too were the tutors and other private lessons bestowed upon him. The wealthy relatives that had so endowed him before now wanted nothing to do with him or his kind. For his mother had been a wayward soul, who had captivated the heart of a norm. A norm who had been born to one of the few remaining norm families of status and wealth. They were wed much to the disapproval of his family.

A few months ago, his mother contracted and died shortly there after from the X-virus that swept through so many Gifted families, sparing few from the path of sorrow. His father was stricken with grief by the passing of his beloved and chose to drown himself in the element of his wives gift.

The tragic death of both his parents left HIM with the blame of an unforgiving family that refused to understand his Gift and who he was. Ultimately his home became this orphanage governed by a sweet-tempered woman and her ridiculous husband.

So it was made final that day, the boy’s eyes flared with raw emotions. He would live here until his eighteenth birthday, not because he was like the other children and had no blood kin left, but because his family chose not to acknowledge him.

Suddenly, he was launched sideways out of his self-created ring of sorrow and onto his backside by a furry puppy, who then cocked its head sideways. Slowly, the pup began to form the hands and feet of the five year-old who constantly plagued him with her presence. “Abby!” he moaned regaining his feet, but not his hurt pride. “Bad dog… girl..” he mumbled to the bare child in front of him. “I’ve told you a million times not to do that.”

The child looked the part of apologetically guilty, but the boy seemed to see through her guise. Quickly, to keep him from becoming too angry, though she knew no harm would come of it, she looked him to the core with the ice blue eyes inherited from her father and promptly said “Tag!” and leapt away while changing into pup form again, with a wink and a wag of her magnificent tail she was off like a rabbit.

The boy leapt after her. Followed shortly there after by the rest of the orphaned children. They soon became enveloped in an all out game of Tag. Minutes later, they had all lost track of who was “it” and who was “frozen”. They began to collapse in heaps of exhausted energy in the yard that would become a part of their new home.

Behind this scene of innocent play was an older fellow dancing with a broom in the background, twirling, bending, and stepping with his imaginary partner until one particular child decided to choose that moment to run headlong after a butterfly into the back of the man’s knee, sending broom one direction, and flailing limbs of the man in the other.

The throbbing of his temple resonated through his memories and into the rest of his body, causing him to bite his lip to keep from moaning in self-indulged pain. Slowly, his mind began to make sense of things, he clearly remembered being abducted by the self-made slut. Charity, she had dared to evoke his anger to this degree, she must surely think herself invincible, or she has convinced some poor soul of this madness. “Cunning little slut…” he rasped between cracked and torn lips, he felt the metallic tang of blood seep between his lips to play upon his dry tongue.

He lifted his head from where it rested on his chest and leaned more solidly against the stone behind him, relieving the built up tension of his neck, and arms. He soon realized that his hands were bound behind his back with simple steel cuffs, he nearly laughed out loud at the stupidity that lay behind such an act. Cannon reached for his Gift… nothing… there was nothing there to reach for. Panicking, he reached again… nothing… “Damn slut…” he cursed shaking with exhausted rage.

“You called… Shaunie…” There she was, the cause for all his rage and recent sorrow. “You know how much I hate your little pet name for me.” She pretended to pout, lower lip folded over the upper as though she were five again and not getting her way.

“Would you prefer whore…” his voice thundered calling upon his unspent emotions to keep the panic from his voice. “Or maybe back stabbing bitch of a woman.” He growled. “Yes, I do think that one is much more suiting for the likes of you.”

Clearly angered, but not willing to take the bait she merely knelt by his side and took his chin into her hands. “Shaunie, Oh how I do love you so.” She pressed her lips to his. His body much to his dismay remembered the passion that those lips had once released from him, however, his body maybe wiling to forgive, but his memories refused to allow it. He broke away wishing his bound hands could keep her at bay. “Don’t… touch… me…” his broken rasps made it clear to Charity that he remembered their moments of shared passion.

She smiled in mirth at his inability to control the wants of his body. “I knew you hadn’t forgotten what we had…” Her smile turned into pursed lips of disappointment. She rocked backwards onto her heels, chewing on her lip she stood up. “Yet you refuse to acknowledge what we had, what power we could have gained through yours and mine own Gifts!”

“We had nothing…” he sputtered through the choking anger. “Nothing real! You were too far caught up in your dance for power, you never cared for me.” His golden eyes were the only fire that burned, and they smoldered with hatred. “Besides, I’m the one with the power that you so crave, without me you weren’t and still aren’t anything. Well, of course, you are still the slut that slept her way to the top. You’re good at it, I’ll give you that, but so are hundreds of other women with more power and better Gifts.” He ackwardly came to his feet, meeting her green glare with the fire that burned in his. “Why…” he was cut off by the entrance of two men carrying a young woman, and followed by two more burdened with a man.

“Awww… yes more guests have arrived!” Charity purred pulling her gaze from the power of his. Smiling weakly, however growing more confident as she moved farther away from her ex-lover. “Now, Shaunie, dearest, I don’t know if you remember our good friend Token of Alkasia.” Hatred poured into the feline green eyes that alighted upon Token’s smoothly unconscious face.

“Token…” his mind froze over the name. She was here… oh god… what was Charity plotting. His mind raced, once more he reached for his Gift, this time something that could be considered a bolt of electricity tore through his body. “Son of a bitch…” his breath was knocked from him, he gasped in rage. “Damn slut… what are… you doing…”

“Me?” came the innocent reply, Charity’s lips parted with humor and her eyes blazed with giddy emotions. “ Oh no… it is not me you wish to vent upon for your suffering.” Reaching behind the door into the room beyond, she produced a timid creature. Her eyes were big and round, her youth was apparent and seemed to be broadcast to the whole room. Blonde hair hung in streaks, black make-up shrouded her seal gray eyes. The child looked well enough, she wasn’t too lean, or too fleshy, however the ashen color of her skin forewarned of something wrong. Her gray eyes looked through you, it was as though she didn’t see you, but instead saw what it was you were made of. As though somehow one might become lost in her gaze, Cannon looked away from the eyes that sought him out.

Cannon forced himself to his feet and walked towards the girl-child with animosity that usually would have been accompanied by fire, but directed his words to Charity. “What is it you’re looking to gain from all this?”

“Now… now… Cannon if one such as yourself learned to hold his anger along with his tongue, you might actually catch on to something you have been apart of for so long.” She giggled holding the child by the arm, as though to dangle her before him. “This is Truth…” at the recognition that clouded Cannon’s eyes she continued. “I borrowed her from a dear friend of mine.”

“Women like you don’t have friends, you have men that do your bidding upon your call.” Cannon sneered at her, his deadly rage burning to be let loose with the fire that eluded him.

Token began to stir, moaning something about dog’s and their sense of smell, she opened her eyes to the scene that was unfolding before her. Her eyes grew wider upon recognition of Cannon and Charity, what she had hoped to be untrue now stood before her in all its glory of betrayal. Cannon faced her with his arms behind him, as though he were out on a casual play date, not having just abducted his childhood kin and her companion, for a reason that still managed to elude her tired intellect.

Suddenly, something caught her eye, a glint of steel catching the light, cuffs became visible, as Cannon turned again toward Charity. Charity walked forward to drape her arm over his shoulders, as though they were lovers, and turned him towards Token. Smoldering rage that Token quickly recognized as deadly had glazed Cannon’s familiar golden gaze into one that jumped and flamed with the colors of the flames that were his to control. It was a mark of death, someone would die that day, maybe more than one, by the hands of the man that stood before her. In all his glory, Cannon would have been controlling a blazing forest fire right that moment if Truth did not hold his gift from him. “Let us be, you damned slut…” Token spoke her voice raspy from the drug that had been laid on so heavily to ensure that Abnythe would not suddenly be there to greet someone with her teeth. She was not cuffed in anyway, much to her amusement, they thought her incapable of harm. Probing for Abnythe she came up empty, panic bubbled into her throat. It’s just the drug she told herself, it will wear off in due time.

Lifting herself onto her elbows, Token looked up at the men that guarded her, their hungry gazes made her quickly realize that she wore no clothing, save for a robe that was not meant to conceal much, she was prey for their ravenous eyes to feast upon. “Dirty… stupid… men…” Enraged she pulled the hem down to cover as much of her thighs as possible without revealing more of her cleavage then she wished to share.

Charity’s attention was drawn to her, and then to Phathom who stirred, then came fully awake with a curse and a angry look set upon the woman that draped herself about Cannon. “Well, now, that everyone is here and properly seated, lets begin.” Her voice resonated off the walls, “First I would like to start by letting you all in on what it is you are about to participate in, not for your approval or anything of that sort, just so that we are all clear on what duties are to be yours.” Her wicked glinting eyes rested on Token with a hatred that she felt resound down to her bones. “You first of all, darling, shall only be giving up your pathetic life, not much to ask for since you have done few things to deserve it.” She turned her gaze to Phathom. “And you, my little puppet, shall be mine to play with for a time, and then we will have to see where we’re at.” The wink she sent him was of pure lust, one that would have sent any other man into a headlong rush of passion. It only brought a snarl of disgust from Phathom. Unfazed by the rejection, all too confident in him repenting when the time came, she turned her attention back to the man she had once thought so powerful. “Cannon, my love…” she broke off, turning towards the child that clung to the wall, as though everything in the room frightened her, “Truth, dear, its time we started this.” A knife of black steel appeared in her hand, as though she had brought it from the air itself. Cannon reacted instantly, pulling himself from her grasp, but he was too slow and the blade was buried in his chest before he could maneuver a safe distance.

Air left his lungs in a rush and his knees gave in, crumpling beneath him, bringing his powerful frame to the ground. He heard a scream, it was not his. He was not afraid, nor did he feel that there was any reason make an effort to fight for his life. He had never been overly good to anyone, nor had he done any astounding deeds that would allow him to beg for the mercy of his god. He felt his gift return to him, full blown, as though it mattered now, he almost laughed.

Charity looked down upon him as though he were a stupid child, who had been punished for a wrong, and only now began to understand why. “You shall aid me in a different way this time, you shall pass that Gift of yours onto one of my more competent cohorts. Someone, I might add, that wishes to gain status and power, nearly as much as I.” One of the guards that had stood above Token now turned as though on cue to face the feuding pair. He formed a small burst of fire in his palm, and extinguished it with his other hand. “He isn’t as strongly Gifted as you, but we both know what happens when such a strongly Gifted, such as yourself, draws his last breath with convenient access to a predecessor. ” The man she spoke of stood before him, placing his palms on either cheek, the man waited for Cannon’s last breath to be drawn, so that he may gain the power that his woman so desired.

Gracefully turning towards Token, the blade that carried his blood still in her hand, Charity advanced. Phathom tried to stand in order to come to the aid of his lover, but the guards shoved him to the ground, and there they held him. Phathom fought with all the strength that was left for him to use, but his Gift would not return to him either, the drug and the frightening child held it in check.

Token had screamed and after having leapt to aid Cannon, she was now pressed firmly onto the wall by a male that she more than wished she could kill, however her arms were pinned painfully behind her back. There was little she could do to aid Cannon or fend off the advancing woman. “What did I ever do to you!” she cried out, stopping Charity in her tracks. Token was beginning to feel the presence of Abnythe, as though the drug was beginning to wear thin.

“As if you don’t know!” Charity laughed until she realized the truth of the statement. “You truly do not know? Oh! How pathetic these people are!” she yelled as though she were speaking to the skies. “I do not know what it is that you hold above my Cannon’s head, but whatever power you hold over him never allowed us to reach our full potential. The second he saw you that day not so very long ago, he turned from me. From my plan!” Her intellectual gaze swept over Token. “I learned that day what it was his greatest sorrow was. His greatest fear!! To lose you, to bare witness to your death! My most powerful pawn feared losing a childhood playmate, of all things!!” she laughed wickedly half hysterical. Placing the knife above Token’s heart, Charity spoke again “It shall be quick, which is more than I can say for Cannon.” Pausing, Charity turned to look upon the kneeling figure, his chest heaved for breath, but otherwise he remained silent, his golden eyes turned hollow with the flames that were building in intensity.

Token felt Abnythe lurch upwards into her mind, only seconds before Charity thrust the knife into her chest, a yelp resounded off the walls, as pain tore through all senses of Token’s body she realized it was not her body that had suffered the fatal blow but that of Abnythe. A cry tore from her throat; the sudden realization that that for the first time in twenty-five years human and wolf were separated from body and mind. Her own body crouched against the wall that had once held her prisoner, and Abnythe’s lay infront of her, the red of blood seeped onto the floor. Abnythe lay still, no more was the life that had animated it for so long, no more was the one she called sister. She was alone, cold and alone, her mind turned in on itself. The death of their other form could destroy a Shapeshifter, they would either become a husk of their once vibrant selves, or they would take their own life shortly after the death of their kin.

Turning her attention back to Cannon, Charity strutted towards him. “There… all better.” She purred placing her hand on his head, bending her knees to put her face before his, her hand moved to his cheek. “I’ve broken you, Shaunie, there is nothing left here for you.” Lifting his chin she realized her mistake, the hatred and life that fueled his golden eyes was directed at her.

“You told me once…” he coughed, blood forming at the corners of his mouth. “ your greatest sorrow.” Charity looked alarmed, but took it for a game, so she smoothed her nerves and just waited for him to continue. “I don’t believe you meant to, nor do I think that you actually thought it was true…” His skin was growing hot enough to scorched her skin making her wish to remove her hand, but his hand came up to cover hers forcing her to keep it there. Whimpering she tried to move again, but his other hand grabbed at her throat, grasping it with the fingers that had once been passionate and gentle.

“Don’t…” her strangled cry went unheeded.

“Don’t… Don’t what… don’t harm you?” his voice was a whisper of strength, but his hand tightened its hold on her throat. She wished to faint away from the burning of her flesh, she could smell it, and she could see the hatred and the loss that had brought him from his deathbed to kill her. In the reflection of the fire that consumed his eyes, she saw what she had done to him, how much he had loved her, even when she had become unfaithful and betrayed him, he had still loved her then. But now, there was no love, lust, or passion left, it had all become the burning hatred that was going to end her life.

Cannon turned to face Phathom, who was no longer pinned against the wall, for the men that had held him were empty husks of burned flesh, “Take her, and get her out of here.” He commanded hoping that the man his kin had chosen to love possessed the intelligence to do as he was told. He watched as Phathom gathered Token in his arms and dashed through the door and away from the scene of death behind him.

Bringing his attention back to the pathetic woman he grasped. “You once told me, slut, that the worst thing imaginable for you would be to lose the beauty that you so enjoy.” He laughed at the fear that over took her and made her quake. “Fear not, for I will not bring death to you.” He removed his hand from where he pressed hers into his cheek, instantly her hand was pulled away from his face, smiling as blood ran down his chin, and he coughed again. “ But I will make you wish yourself dead.”

“You don’t have the wickedness in your heart, lover, you don’t have the strength to be so cruel!” Charity whimpered her green eyes pleading with him.

“I’ll make an exception.” With that he released her and fell onto his side his last breath drawing his chest inwards. Cannon’s memories attacked him forcing him to remember his childhood pain and loss, and even the flowering friendship that had gotten him through his darkest days. So much pain clouded them and sent him into darkness.

Charity scrambled for the door, her escape was so near, for the violent passing of one who is Elementally Gifted so strongly and in his prime is not something one wishes to witness first hand, without of course, the proper precautions. She managed to take a step towards the door only to be knocked down by the flames that erupted from the room behind her. The flames seized her in an embrace that knocked the air from her lungs.