He couldn’t get the images out of his head. The gash that kept reopening because the one time Aden watched his father do it clearly wasn’t supplemental enough in Aden’s schooling to do it properly. The bruises that ranged from yesterday-fresh to several weeks—if not a month—old. Years of scarred over bite and scratch marks. Not to mention the crooked way Logan’s arm sat, broken and healed without being properly set.

Aden winced at the pain that would have wrought. He would never be able to imagine it.

But Logan lived it. And none of that touched on his malnourished skeleton, or the needle pricks decorating his inner elbows, or god knows what else lingered where Aden’s eyes had been too worried to observe.

Aden ran his hands through his hair and let out an aggrieved sigh. His eyes wandered as he attempted to comfort himself with the familiarity of his surroundings.

Fading sunlight cast streaks of gold through the overhead windows of the academy as twilight began taking over the sky. Rosy granite columns soaked up the luster, small shards of quartz reflecting tiny specs of light onto the matching walls of the vast building. Rosy reds and gentle green shone in from an artistic window made up of glass bottles and scattered sea glass pieces situated on the opposing wall to the one Aden had made himself comfortable against.

The shimmering dance was mesmerizing. Always had been. Usually, the sight helped ease anxiety and muscle pains from a day’s excursion. Sometimes, Aden even sought out the comfortable lobby recliners for quiet study sessions in this kaleidoscopian haven of warmth and serenity.

Today…it did neither. Worry and doubt created a miasmic fog in Aden’s head that he struggled to sort.

On one hand, Aden had witnessed the lives before him. All three ended brutally, and William had been the only one to even see an age past thirty. Abandoning his search for Logan had be so, so difficult, but as soon as Aden witnessed the deaths of the third incarnates, it steeled his resolve. Logan would live happier and longer; devoid of the trauma his past incarnates carried to their untimely deaths.

But Aden vividly remembered the way his heart stopped at the sight of Logan, broken and abused, that first night he spent within the city limits of Blue Fields.

It was said that the three-city conglomeration had once been the spearhead for a new industrial age, the zenith of what vast cities could be. It was known, however, that its zenith was as high as its hell was deep. A complex system of abandoned subway tunnels, maintenance pipes that ran in every direction imaginable, and even shallow caves carved by the very people forced to live there. After a decade of telling himself that letting Logan go would be for the best, that the hound’s incarnate deserved to live without the bane of the phoenix’s presence, there Logan was. Shivering in the squalor of Blue Fields’ underbelly, bruised and scared and with no one to protect him.

Yet, even then, even with that crystal clear indicator that Logan wasn’t safe, that Aden was wrong, it took three vultures ready to sink their talons into Logan’s flesh for Aden to finally bow his head to the realization that he’d made a horrible, horrible mistake. A mistake that caused Logan a decade of suffering.

Xyczyka…does not fare well without its phoenix counterpart.

I won’t play your games, Aden countered, though he had never felt less confident in those words than he was now.

“There ya are!”

Aden jumped at sudden boom of his friend’s voice. Henry had had a later class than Aden, and Aden had been prepared to wait the extra thirty minutes for Henry’s class to let out. It was surprising that it’d only been seven.

“Oh, hi,” Aden stiffly replied. “Thought it was gonna be a bit longer until you let out.”

“Would ‘ave been,” Henry answered, “but Veera dear had to rush off somewhere real sudden so…she told us to fuck off.”

“I’m almost certain she didn’t say that.”

“Aye, you’d be right. Just polishin’ up my stories with my own individuality,” Henry said with his signature wink-and-smirk combo. “But ‘nough about my luck. You seem a bit more disturbed than usual.”

Nausea rose as Aden thought on everything he needed to tell his friend. The conversation wasn’t going to be easy but it was something Aden believed was necessary. Especially considering he’d ditched Henry despite agreeing to their plans nearly a week ago. “We can talk about it later. I-I think I need a few drinks before I can open up about it.” Not now. Not sober.

Henry’s brows jumped. “That bad, eh?”

Aden only nodded.

There was a momentary falter in Henry’s smile, an inner debate that finally led to the smile correcting itself as he slapped Aden’s back. “Didja come here just to lure me away from my endearing studies and into the pit of some bar so I’d lend ya my wallet?”

“Yeah,” Aden admitted with a spark of humor lightening his mood. “If that’s alright?”

Henry’s eyes softened. “Ah, for fuck’s sake. Can’t ignore those kitten eyes, even if you’re a monster of a man. But,” he switched to a more stern tone, “in exchange, ya have to tell me everythin’ weighin’ on your mind. Otherwise, that tabs yours, and you know Callie will take my side in the matter.”

Aden made a sour face, though it truthfully didn’t bother him. The whole reason why Aden even asked was because he wanted to tell his best friend. Despite all his sarcasm and jokes, Henry always seemed wise beyond his years, and the Irishman had not once steered him wrong. Maybe he’d have some insight to Aden’s current problem, even if Aden couldn’t tell him everything.

“Didja drive here, or take the bus?”

“…The bus,” Aden answered. “I figured you could be the DD since…this is going to be a hard conver—”

Henry held up his hand. “It’s alright, lad. You can tell me when you’ve got a better mindset about it, yeah?”

Aden nodded and Henry extended a hand to help him to his feet. Together, the duo walked through the doors and down the academy steps to where Henry’s familiar little truck sat gleaming in the light of the afternoon fall sun. They filled the silence with mindless chatter that helped ease the tension pulling at his muscles. It would still be a hard conversation, but Aden felt more encouraged to have it.

By the time they’d pulled into the parking lot of Shot in the Dark, Aden had to confess that he’d let out a genuine laugh more than once. Henry was good at that. He was good at distracting you from the pain.

Secluded in a grove of sycamore and small pines, the bar was often hard to find if you weren’t from the area. GPS led you to some back road that always ended with a brick wall and a stretch of a hundred yards that you had to back out of, and the sign wasn’t exactly visible through the intertwining branches of the trees just beside it. Vacationers couldn’t find it and college kids had to go out of their way to visit it so the place had become a gem that Aden would forever keep hidden.

It also helped that the building was an older one, the skeletal remains of one of the three towns that merged to create Blue Fields. Just as they did the sign, trees grew uncontrolled over the roof of the building and their branches swept in vast circles over the asphalt of the parking lot. They took up multiple parking spots, and left less space in the already-compact lot for patrons to leave their cars. There were always complaints that were answered with a few phrases that always warmed Aden’s heart.

“The trees were here before this building, and—if I have anything to say about it—they’ll be here long after its gone.”

“If there’s less room to park, there’s more of a reason to take alternative transport. You can’t drive drunk if you don’t have a car.”

“Smaller crowds are easier to keep safe.”

Just to name Aden’s favorites.

Exterior aside, the warmth that seeped into every wall and every floorboard made Shot in the Dark one of the few public places Aden felt truly safe enough to let go. The bartenders had become friends, along with a handful of regulars. Most of them knew that if outsiders came in to cause a ruckus, someone would have your back.

Callie was the bartender on shift today, and she greeted the duo with an enthusiastic smile so bright it made you ignore her misaligned teeth. “I’ll be right with you, boys!” she chirped, fixing the strands of sandy-blonde hair that had fallen out of her otherwise neat bun.

“No rush, lass,” Henry replied with a patient smile and wave of his hand.

Aden almost argued with his friend’s words. The pain and nervousness in his heart had begun blooming as soon as they stepped into the bar and Aden needed a drink now.

But Callie’s words rung true as she rounded the corner with their usual drinks already in hand. A smoking old fashion for Henry and whatever fruity concoction—this one a vibrant orange and yellow one—Callie decided to whip up for Aden on the fly. She knew he liked his drinks strong but sweet, and that’s all he ever really cared about. Aden wasn’t exactly picky.

The downside to Callie’s drinks is that they were dangerous. Half of the time, Aden didn’t realize how sloshed he was until it all caught up to him in one fell swoop. Usually it only took two of Callie’s drinks to get him talking. But, even by the time the third drink was delivered in front of him and a third of the way gone, Aden could still feel something making him choke on words.

“Enough faffin’. What’s on with you?” Henry asked, his first and only glass emptied long ago.

Aden played with the tiny, decorative umbrella garnishing his drink as he thought yet again how he should start this conversation in a way that wouldn’t make him seem like a madman. The alcohol didn’t give him as much time as his sobriety did.

“I found him,” Aden blurted out.

(To be continued...)