Fuck that. Samuel, use your sword.
He didn’t pause to ask questions. He summoned his dark power and as his smoky mist swirled around him, he sliced at the wall with his blade and what do you know, an opening peeled back.
A man in long black terry robe, a cigarette in one hand and martini glass in the other, stared back at him and muttered.
“Oh, shit!” Samuel stepped through the opening, dragging Vela with him, turned and faced the breach but he saw nothing just the wall.
But he heard another explosion.
“Fuck.” Their host said. “The wreckers followed you.” Samuel turned back to face the robed stranger. “What do we do?” He rolled his eyes, settled his cigarette carefully on an ashtray, placed his martini glass on the coffee table then went to the wall.
Samuel pulled Vela close as another not-so-distant explosion rocked the space.
“I could use some help here,” the stranger called out.
Vela went to the wall, and placed her hands on it alongside the man.
“Shit, this isn’t working,” the man shouted.
Samuel’s instincts kicked in and he went to the stranger. He placed his hand on the man’s back and his own power flowed. A kind of zing went through him, into the stranger, and the power amplified about a hundred fold.
Then everything went black.
Sometime later he woke up on his back.
“He’s awake now,” Vela said.
He shifted his head slightly. Vela had hold of his hand, her knees curled next to him. Her long, unruly hair, full of waves and curls, hung beside her face, an almost angelic look. He squeezed her hand.
“You okay?” she asked.
He glanced around. He was on the floor, in the same room, the stranger’s living room. “What happened?”
“You amplified Merl’s power and he sealed the tunnel back up. Looks like we opened up an exit point that had been closed for about five decades.” He glanced at her other hand. She held a martini glass. “You’re drinking?”
“Seemed like a good idea.
Greygoose dirty. Very nice. And we were very lucky Merl was here.” She’d called him by name twice.
He didn’t like that. At all.
He sat up, his head spinning. Shit, where was his identified sword. Only he could touch the grip or the hilt. Jesus.
“Where’s my sword?” Merl said. “It’s humming over there.” He gestured behind him.
Samuel widened his eyes. His sword was stuck about ten inches into the wall, on the opposite side of the large room, at least thirty feet away from where he now sat. There were many issues to address right now like how much he didn’t like his new host since he could sense his male- hunting stench, but he needed to take care of his weapon first.
As he rose to his feet, he said, “I take it we’ve reached some kind of safe haven here on Second and you must be from Third.”
“Guilty.” Had Merl actually said that?
Samuel crossed in front of him, catching his gaze and holding it hard, as he passed by.
The man held up both hands in surrender, a new cigarette in one hand and a half full martini in the other.
Samuel pulled his sword from the wall, the familiar feel of the grip a comfort in what had become an increasingly bizarre situation. “We’re on Second?” Merl nodded and took a slow drag on his cigarette, squinting, savoring. “Yeah, you can fold it anywhere you want. I don’t have shields up. Haven’t needed them. Of course your arrival, as well as Vela’s,” he offered her a smile as he sipped his martini, then finished his thought.
“Anyway, your arrival will force me to rethink my strategy.” He’d called Vela by name and smiled at her.
Good ol’ Merl was starting to piss him off.
Samuel thought-the-thought and got rid of his sword. He returned to Vela, and as he passed by Merl again, he made eye- contact and let him feel just what he thought about this Third ascender, with a power similar to his own.
Merl’s lips quirked as he once more raised his martini glass and his cigarette in surrender. What a prick.
When Samuel reached Vela, she sent, What’s the matter? You’re all pissy and from what I can tell, Merl just saved our lives.
I had something to do with that.
Her expression softened. Yeah, you did and it cost you.
“Okay, you two. Enough with the telepathic chit-chat. It’s kinda rude.” The last word came out with a stretched ‘u’ sound. This man was one piece-of-work.
The weird thing was, Merl was warrior-sized and matched Samuel pound- for-pound. He wore black silk bottoms, but the terry robe, open to the waist, exposed muscled pecs.
Samuel slipped his arm around Vela.
“Who are you?” he asked, not trusting much about this stranger.
“Merl Tuttle, escapee from Third Earth, former warrior, including stretches inside the darkening grid. Got sick of the chaos on Third and found a way to get out.
Question is, how did you find me? I haven’t had visitors from Third since I got here.”
“We’re not from Third,” he said.
“Why, Vela, you didn’t tell me that.” He’d caressed her name. Hell, he’d poured oil over every single one of those words, the bastard, and now a lovely red hue covered Samuel’s vision as his dark power rose in a sudden smoky stream.
He launched at Merl before he had time to think or before he could respond to Vela calling out, “Don’t, Samuel. He’s a friend!” He caught bare arms, because somewhere in Samuel flying at Merl, the Third ascender had lost his robe and dropped into a fighting stance.
Samuel grappled with him, wrestling him to the ground, then letting his fists fly.
Merl folded out of his hold, levitated.
Samuel’s dark power recognized his foe and responded with similar levitation and folding, until once more he made contact.
But Merl had more power and the next thing Samuel knew, he lay face down on the carpet, a knee in his back, and one arm pulled back and upright to the breaking point.
“You done throwing a fit?”
“Don’t talk to my woman that way.” The words sounded slurred since they were half-spoken into a thick carpet.
“Fine.”
“Fine.” Merl let him go. Samuel rose to his feet, breathing hard, sweating, mad. He glared at Merl. “Just leave Vela alone.
She’s mine.” Merl opened his mouth to speak then closed it. “Hold the phone. Are we talking that breh-hedden shit here? I mean I heard rumors that Thorne had been laid waste.
It’s the breh-hedden, isn’t it?” But Samuel stepped into him and got about an inch away from his nose “Breh- hedden or not, stay the f**k away from my woman. We clear?” Merl narrowed his eyes and though he said nothing, he stared back, nostrils flaring.