As Harley closes her physical eyes properly, the world within her mind becomes sharper and clearer. She can feel a new sensation waking up, right in the middle of her forehead.

  “Now, our game can begin.” The young Harley gets onto her feet, spping the older Harley on the arm. “You’re it.”

  “You’re not going to tell me the rest; you’re just going to run off?” Harley says incredulously.

  “You do pride yourself on not being a dummy, don’t you?”

  “I suppose I do. I can understand why people don’t want kids, very well, young me, run.” Harley watches as the young girl disappears into the Evergreen forest that hangs over the beach. She wonders for a moment how Nathen is doing, is his younger self this annoying and irritable? Or did he really have a peaceful life? That certainly answers a lot of things about him – certainly his calm manner, it needs to come from somewhere.

  “So, the st two steps. If I don’t get those on lockdown, I’m going to be shitting bricks in the afterlife.” Harley cannot afford to waste more time on talking or thinking, she needs to focus on finding the brat, which happens to be herself before her friends get killed in reality.

  -

  Nathen didn’t have the same emotional turmoil as Harley, perhaps for the simple reason that his life is perfectly ordinary. A loving family, full to the brim with cousins and retives. His father is a scientist at the local university. He didn’t appreciate the mumbo-jumbo and schematics of an unreliable field. If it could even be called that in the first pce. The supernatural loonies.

  “What an unremarkable life. Did he want you to be a scientist, to carry on that prestigious post?”

  Nathen cannot see a damn thing; it’s a dark abyss that surrounds him now.

  “Yeah, something like that. He always found the otherworldly to be unreliable, dangerous.”

  “Do you agree with him – after all you’ve been through?”

  “Maybe I do, he’s always had a good level of rationality.”

  “You didn’t want to follow in his footsteps, did you?” The boy asks. “There was a hunger within you.”

  They’re both blind as per the conditions of their abilities, Nathen can hear the supernatural more effectively than Harley can. That’s the point of this – the Nightwatchers are naturals in their fields. Were they children to begin with? Just walking around the park, or is there something more to them?

  “Oh, the stories of us being children is real.” The boy assures him.

  “Are you telling the truth?”

  “I suppose you have no way of knowing.”

  Nathen didn’t have the same level of education that his father or mother did, they were both highly intellectual. The thought of hearing something unseen receives an instant dismissal. It’s not surprising that he got some backsh for his ability. Dr. Gerald Sanderson, one in a long line of doctors, philosophers and researchers of knowledge in legitimate fields. His wife, a head nurse at the local hospital, the most senior one there commands nothing short of respect and admiration. They didn’t listen to things easily, especially things that were leaps of logic.

  It’s not an easy thing to stray away from a path that a family’s been going down since their conception. His father didn’t take no for an answer; he couldn’t accept the whimsical mutterings of YouTubers and paranormal investigators.

  He can hear the words of the past drawing into the present.

  “I hope you take the degree in anthropology at least. It would serve you well, son, that is the only concession that I’ll grant you.”

  He didn’t need to see anything to know where this was taking pce. His bedroom. A common pce for discussions of great magnitude. “I understand, father, but John is going to make it big.”

  “I suppose he has a level of talent. But you can’t depend on his talents – you have your own, and it seems that you’re content to bury them for the sake of a few friends.” Dr. Sanderson evaluates his son harshly; there is a level of coldness in his eyes. Despite his lectures, Nathen couldn’t help but love his father for all his good qualities, a family man, a teacher, a source of truth and steadfast in his loyalty. “I can understand that – it took me years, but I got it in the end.”

  “So, you understand that I can’t be drawn away into studies?”

  “Before anyone else, son, you have yourself. You are your strongest advocate. No one else can do it for you – no matter how much you want it to be the case.” Dr. Sanderson stops for a moment, a thin smile growing over his face. “I know where you get your stubbornness from. The reason I said anthropology is for a simple reason – it is the science of humanity. Throughout time there have been many anthropologists.”

  Nathen is able to keep his head on a swivel. “Okay, Nightwatcher, why are you showing me this?”

  “It was a pivotal moment, would you dedicate yourself to the vision of your family, or your own?”

  “You have your answer.” Nathen didn’t give in, at least not yet. He couldn’t spend the rest of his life reliably with anyone, he hung onto John, perhaps there is a level of dependency there. His father didn’t want him just to have an air of respectability and schorly authority. He wants his son, Nathen to be a proper man. That’s the best gift that a father could possibly give.

  To help his son become a man in all respects.

  “You are strong. You have crity, maybe one day you will go down your own path. You won’t need anyone else to give praise to. To follow in the wake of.”

  “This is a game of tag, isn’t it?”

  “Verbally, you have won.” The boy says, his voice transitioning away from that of Nathen’s father.

  “Maybe I have. But life carries on, and I’ll have to weather whatever storms come my way.”

  That’s the thing about turmoil, both physical and mental, Nathen reflects as he can feel his senses sharpening to a greater degree. Being calm is the best solution to a chaotic calcution. To the unknown.

  -

  Moeris couldn’t waste time, the young pup being in danger is his fault. Not entirely, but part of the bme still lies with him. Vukosava is looking at him with a mixture of awe and horror.

  “Who are you?” She inquires politely.

  “That’ll be revealed at a ter time, Vukosava.” Moeris looks up to see the painter flying through the open air.

  “You know me?” Vukosava asks incredulously. “How could that be?”

  “I understand your questions, but we have to focus on what’s important.”

  “Can you pin him down – the Burned One?”

  “That will be difficult. But I’m not alone, where one wolf goes, a pack usually follows.”

  “Where are they?”

  “You’ll see.” With that Moeris throws back his head, letting out a quick howl.

  A signal of some kind, for the rest of them to jump into action. Amber is starting to visibly slow down, she is going on empty in terms of energy and the Burned One is intent on killing her.

  The Burned One flies through the air, this time Amber is struck by the fmes, her canvases protecting her at the st second. She is free falling, a skydiver without a parachute.

  Vukosava cries out. “Amber!”

  A dark shape ripples through the darkness, a silhouette that catches her just before she hits the ground. It’s a werewolf, but it is monstrously big. Especially compared to the one in front of her.

  “What was that?”

  “The leader of our pack. Don’t worry, he has no intention of leaving you at its mercy, or your friends.” Moeris says quickly.

  “That’s good news, but unless we lock this thing down it’ll become more powerful.” Vukosava recounts to the werewolf. “My friends, they have the means of sending it back.”

  “We understand your strategy. The man’s pce of rest is where you can send it back.”

  “The others – do you know where they are?”

  “Your ‘mediums’, they are dealing with the Nightwatchers or pying with them.” Moeris is moving towards the nding spot for Amber, Vukosava is following in his wake. “The two boys, they are going to encounter the Marylin Princess.”

  “Of course they are, what else is new?” Vukosava mutters in annoyance.