Crossblood - Completed

Chapter 43

It's been three days already, the concrete floors slowly beginning to mesh into carpet, a comfort that shows I've already been here three days too long. Even as I rub at my eyes in the stuffy basement of Sector G the mirage swimming at my feet fails to leave, mind once again tricking me into turning Hell to Heaven.

Three quick snaps focus my attention back to the man in front of me, his squared off jaw tight as he bites down on his teeth in frustration. Whether his hate is directed at me or the topic I'm not sure. "Moon," Liam seemingly drags out the name, further convincing me the annoyance is with me. "I'm worried about you being here with this man. You're barely here a day and he's already attached to you."

Ignoring his pleads I scoot further onto the medical table, distancing myself from the man in front of me. Torn pieces of my cloak still rest against its cool surface, blood smeared against the material and smudged over the tabletop. My reflection comes back deranged, hair wild and unkept from the lack of sleep in this hellhole, bloody fingerprints striking my face from within the glass, concealing half my face in gory mystery. "Ezra isn't a threat...he took care of me."

From the corner of my eye I can tell Liam isn't giving in, his concern only growing with each word I carelessly breathe out. "Sorry...I..." My words are carried with the wind, the slight purse of my lips the only indicator that I had even spoken to begin with.

"He could be dangerous, Moon, and even a 'could' is enough to have me on edge." With a steady hand he rubs down my arm, goosebumps trailing behind his gentle touch, fingertips levitating over my skin as if I were glass, a piece of art he'd never been allowed to touch. I'm already edging closer, fingertips slipping off the slick edges of the table, catching on the rough patches of dried blood that keep me from falling into him as my skin warms, every touch leaving behind flourishing marks on my blood painted skin.

I press my lips together in time to suppress a moan, teeth grinding as his pulse echoes throughout the room, scent clouding my senses until I'm leaning into him, fingers tangled in the back of his sweater and lips against the pumping blood of his neck, it's steady rhythm enough to drive me insane.

He doesn't stop me as I open my mouth against his flesh, slide my tongue against the smooth skin, eyes rolling back in pleasure at what is mine.

All.
Mine.

"Not now, Moon."

"And why not?" He seems to fall for the tilted head trick I never knew I had, arms linking behind his neck as I pull him closer to me, indulging in his scent for a while longer until I'm pushed back with more force.

"I just feel as if someone is eavesdropping ya'know?" His voice has dropped lower than before, breath tickling my ear as he glances around, pulling me close to his chest to murmur his last words against me. "Please don't trust him."

Refusing to speak another word he helps me from the table, leading me up the still damp steps and back into the common room of Sector G. The newbies give us a suspicious glance, their faces still purple and swollen from their initial defeat, red eyes following us around the room, my instincts telling me to hide our interlocked hands between our coats.

We manage to maneuver through the stares and bubbling fights, stand offs waiting to explode at every corner, the second Cold War boiling with each team ready to kill the other at the push of a button. All eyes are on their allies, on who to take out first. They aim their targets at the werewolves, who then aim their targets at the trolls, a never ending line of blame and hate until it all falls on the shifters at the end of the line.

Ezra stands as I come by, ribbon folded neatly against his pillow as his hair flys wild, its curl becoming more defined now that it isn't stretched straight. He flashes a smile as I examine his every feature, citrine eyes squinting into the dim flicker of lights as he casts his hand over his face, breathing a sigh of annoyance before grabbing his signature ribbon off the yellowed pillowcase. "Moon, I didn't expect you to get so well so soon." There's a softness in his features, the warm glow of the lights reflecting off his eyes and on to me, a mutual feeling of trust passing along the both of us.

"Your medicine has been helping." There's a jolt at my side, Liam instinctively grabbing onto my hand at what he sees as alarming news, slyly moving our positions until I'm slightly behind him now, but more importantly to him, farther from Ezra.
As much as it pains me to do so, I push from his grasp, closing in the gap between me and the other man. "I was actually going to ask you about the exercises you had talked about but I see that you're leaving." I nod towards the folded bedsheets, his hair already done up in its disgruntled pony tail, slicked back at the top until the curls refuse to be constrained.

His hands fall limp to his sides, tapping against the side of his leg until he quickly comes to a conclusion. "You can come with me if you'd like?"

"I don't want to trouble you." This small lie seems to ease Liam of his worries, arm no longer wrapped around mine in a bone-breaking grip.

With a smile he takes my hand, leading me out of the gray center room and into another smaller, lighter quarter of the sector. "I wouldn't mind the company." He turns back to see my reaction, a range of emotions flickering too quickly to catch just one. The light inside the room has grown brighter, it's concrete walls becoming washed out and whited out the higher we climb. Before I can slip on a narrowing step he grips me tighter, pulling me close to him once more before continuing our journey.

I don't look down into the spiral of stairs we've already overcome, the lack of light casting shadows against the walls, gleaming off sparse water droplets that accumulate here and there. There are no windows still but the light must flood from somewhere. I'm caught in a limbo of dark and light, both managing to entice fear in my bones, a chill overcoming them that can't be warmed away with a shifters smoke but stays as I travel further into the blinding abyss ahead of me.

I can barely stop the small smile etching its way onto my thinning and cracked lips, the sunlight casting onto my skin as I ignore the pain of the nipping morning air, seemingly drifting to my knees as I lie on the baked material of the Sector G rooftop.

From my small window between my overlapping arms Ezra's wedged heels click against the pavement, torso coming into view as he sits a whiles way from me, elbows resting on his crossed calves and head dipped lightly in his welcoming hands. He seems at peace here, body leaning over the edge of the roof, loose strands of hair whipping against his cheeks until they're reddened with abuse. Even his eyes have melted from the warmth, any hostility they once held cast away from his body at once as if the Earth were his medicine, it's air breathing new life into his lungs with each breath.

We lay in silence, lips numbed from the cold and still spaced far from one another until I rise to my knees, enclosing the space between us as I move to sit beside him. His head only rolls in the dip of his hand, eyes softly meeting mine as they squint against the light. As I turn I'm left stunned, the scene he watched over with such intent finally unfolding before me.

The best way to describe it is a pit. Each sector set into a menacing cage formation, enclosing the space until only a circle of space is left. Bodies socialize, smile, dance as if oblivious to the fact that they're held in a camp. The light bounces off their faces and hair, angelic glows morphing into demonic shadows as they're cast in the evening shadows of the tall sector buildings. Unlike Sector G, the shortest building, the rest are built upwards, preventing the use of underground punishments with what seems to be pristine floors, small faces peeking out of the next building's multitude of windows.

It's a reward system of sorts.

"Do you come up here often?"

Something flickers in his mind, eyes widening at whatever thought had passed him by. "It reminds me of where I came from."

"Where is that exactly?"

He contemplates answering, spine straightening and head tilted towards me, pain etched in the slight downfall of his lips, in the crinkles near his eyes. "It's-" Something seems to catch his attention, head shooting back into the courtyard. "Why is that boy waving to us?"

As I lean over I about fall off, heart beating faster until I'm gasping for breath, unaware of just how tight I'm gripping Ezra's bruising wrist. "Kaiien!"

He gets the message, frail body jumping up and down as he frantically waves towards the low set rooftop, his heartbeat echoing from his chest to mine. "Why are you on the roof? And who is that...?" His thought seemingly trails off, head tilting in confusion and jumping stilled to a contemplating shift of one foot to the other.

"Who is he?" I'm stalled for a moment, not able to distinguish the voice in my head from the voice outside of it.

"Mon âme, Kaiien."

He tries and fails to hide the slight quiver in his lip, how his eyes shift from me to Kaiien and back to me again. "You're bound?" The slight quiver in the back of his throat leaves me shaken, the familiarity of every movement, every word, leaving me in a demented daydream as I struggle to piece him together.

"Yes?"

Without any hesitation he's leaving, back hunched forward as he rakes a hand through his pulled back hair, breaking the ribbon loose that once constrained it. Kaiien's questions vociferate off the sides of my skull, head pounding with each new word he screeches between our shared minds.

Who is that man?
Moon, are you alright?
Did he do something to you?
Where have you been?
What's on your neck!?
Why does he look like you?


Stunned, I pause, one leg still on the ground as I recognize what he sees in the two of us. Maybe what I see in Ezra...is me?

The laugh
The smile
The eyes
The hair

Those are mine?

Physically, I force the thoughts from my mind, waving to Kaiien below with an amiable goodbye to accompany it. Seeing him in good health has eased at least one of my worries, though Ezra has opened up at least twenty more.

I find myself back to the lower levels of Sector G easily enough, hands roughened from grazing against the wall, blindly guiding myself into the spiraling darkness of the sector. Jesse has been missing all day, Liam talking to another man and Ezra lying on his small bed. Great, nowhere to go.
With a sigh I drag myself to the far end of the room, pulling myself up into a broken pile of rubble and watching the crowd from a better view.

I gather a few stares, beaten faces of the young and the dying becoming the faces of the broken and damned. They're the faces of those hanging by the trees in Descansar, of those beating their burned hands against the cages of Hell, Lucifer smiling from above them all as I do now. Their despair fueling whatever wicked the Ancients gifted this species with, my shoulders raising, back straight before I slouch back, foot on me knee with a new air of power coming over me.

Few faces of the tormented stop to turn up to me, disgust carved into their upper lips as they pass along. Only one stops, brows bogged down as he climbs my rubble pile, hands crashing on either side of me, caging me underneath him with no means of escape. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" He spits his curses out, saliva splattering across my face at the malice in his words, teeth bared as he comes closer, our noses almost touching from the proximity.

"Moon Hiroshi." Three heads perk up at my comment, each turning to the other while one bows it down, once more plunging himself into the crevice of his cupped hands.

"Moon Hiroshi, king of the slums." Before I think I spit, the ball of saliva dripping down the dip between his nose and his eye, contaminating his lips as his face grows red, the rubble beginning to further crack under his grip.

My cheek collides with the broken concrete, blood pouring down the rugged surface, hiding in the cracks and dying each stone a sickly red and spotted black. His fist flys down again, barely escaping my already crushed nose as I roll and he hits the pile instead. It's a rough journey to the bottom of the pile, shattered glass catching in each strand of hair, pulling against my forehead until blood drains from my temples and hairline, staining each palm as I quickly gather myself from the incoming storm.

The fist rains down once more, my body toppling as I trip over loose flooring, his body soon overtaking mine as we struggle against the floor, a crowd already beginning to gather.

I've never heard a man scream so loud, his flesh dripping against the flooring as I burn him, smoke clouding the room as the sound and scent of burning meat fills the space, the men close enough bending over to vomit, the sound nauseating as it splashes against the hard flooring and onto us. My hand only grasps tighter as spell after spell comes to mind, his agony washing onto the walls before being overtaken by the drum of footsteps. Hands jerk mine away, a leg attempted to kick into my side before I once more act without truly thinking, blood littering the floor as his skin peels from the bone, his screams overriding any noise beforehand.

With only one guard left he approaches with caution, legs trembling as he pulls out a small gem, overthrowing my stunt of royalty in a moments time. The blood doesn't refrain from flowing into my eyes, lips getting a taste of the bitter liquid that sticks my eyes together, preventing me from viewing where I ultimately must end.

The past truly will repeat itself, the Crossblood's timeline interrupted as the crowd seems to swarm whatever platform I'm led up to, the beating of their footsteps becoming a single rhythm of hate, the sickened cheers of some as I'm hooked to an object out of eyesight reigns over the protests of others. My hair is swept back, eyes wiped clean and taped open as each of Sector G's inhabitants are sat on their knees in front of me, a guard to hold each back.

As the first hit falls a scream crushes my skull, a frail boy falling in the crowd, alarm clear on a nearby guards face as he quickly catches Kaiien, the first hit thankfully knocking him into a painless submission.

If only the same could be said for me.

My back burns with each new hit, the staring eyes of the crowd overwhelming, voices coming out slower than normal, faces contorting to the demons that they hold inside. Women raise up their children, cursing the demons of Sector G. A fragile voice shakes with power as she demands the gates of the courtyard to be opened, for them to spill my spotted blood to the humans, to let the humans tear me apart for their "lucky" charms.

My wrists twist as I move to avoid the next lash the best I can, scalp splitting as the whip misses its intended target. It's a pain I haven't had in years, the whip seemingly the same, worn from previous usage as it falls back on me with a crack, body splitting open just as another one falls. I refuse to scream, to have them make an example from me, to let the fragile voice ridicule me as her spider tattoo, a member of the Vedil, slips from beneath her dress sleeve.

It's as if I've been sent to the guillotine, head shown to the crowd, their voices screaming in acceptance to the gore they've been dulled to.

The whips seem to come further apart now, my time to heal lengthened until another blow comes down, back arching and lip bleeding as I bite down to muffle any screams leftover that might dare to escape me.

The sun is already set, night saving me from any further torture as I'm unchained, the residents of Sector G free to roam in the courtyard as it hastily clears out. The chains behind me start to shuffle, the night air seemingly blowing them away until I'm relieved from the weight, painfully turning to see my savior.

His ribbon is tied around his wrist which wraps around my filleted waist with such a care as if I'd never been touched at all. He doesn't speak to me, just assists in lifting me off the platform, forcing me to bend myself so the pain doesn't stiffen my mobility. It is now, when the courtyard is empty and new snow falls to wash away my blood that I cry. Hiccuping screams escaping me as I grip Ezra in my arms, blood pouring from my lips and mouth and onto his clothes, staining his skin with the damage of my deeds.

There is nothing he can do to ease my pain or stifle my screams, only brushes my hair back and examines the cuts on my head, pulling hair out of the open cuts on my scalp as he walks me towards our sector. Painfully, I turn back to see what had held me enchained and imprisoned, surveying the area I hadn't seen as I looked down on the people from the roof.

Instead I'm met with darkened eyes and darker skin, lips forever in a straight line as if no emotion can taint his carefully built up exterior. My cries come quicker now, the phantom sensation of his hands on my throat, my waist, his hands controlling the whip as he screams that he loves me, that I'm worthless for not loving him back.

But Niko only glides from my eyes, turning back into the snow before scooping the tainted red slush in his hands, the mixture slipping from his hands as if marking my final hours. Ezra closes the doors behind us but his presence still lurks around every shadow, residing in every corner as I'm laid once more over the medical table, Ezra caring for my wounds once more.

But I can't ignore how his hands shake with an ager I've never met in him, an anger that wasn't in his eyes during my whipping, an anger that came after Niko and how Niko's ever steady emotions changed for the first time upon seeing him with me.


Almost as if they knew each other...