8-

 

He woke up untied, pale moonlight cutting the air around him as it slid in through the window’s shoddy curtains. The silence seemed to crush the air about him, and a strange tingly feeling was traveling through his palms. Locke knew it’d be familiar if he could just get his head together- he had one of the worst headaches he’d ever experienced, and it seemed like even attempting to think gave him the migraine equivalent to losing a vicious drunken brawl very, very badly.

 

As he turned his head to the side, the tingling intensified, and with a sharp intake of breath, the meaning finally was revealed.

 

“Oh, fuck,” Locke whispered, jumping out of his bed and arming himself as much as he could as fast as he could, dressing at the same time as he tried to avoid the panic that was clawing at his throat.

 

Shadows. And a hell of a lot of them.

 

The only people capable of nullifying any sort of blast or explosion he could manifest were headed straight for his apartment, from what he could sense. That tingling sensation, that WRONGNESS that Shadows carried with them was the only reason he could still roam free- he could tell when they were coming and get the fuck away as fast as possible. It was only the fact that Shadows couldn’t sense him in turn that really saved him, but the chance of them having a pet Conduti to sniff him out was always there…

 

Sometimes Locke really fucking hated being himself.

 

Grabbing as much money as he could without slowing down, the thief opened his front door (since if they knew where he lived they probably knew where the windows led to, and would search there first since it was the quickest way out) and took off sprinting, the world passing in a blur as he tried to avoid enhancing his speed in any way. And damn if he wasn’t going to do this himself, too. Aelar had been out far too much anyway; it was time for Locke to show why he was the one in charge to begin with.

 

For what seemed like hours he lost himself in the moonlit streets of Vascun, that deadly prickling still warning of the impending threat to his freedom, not to mention his life.

 

And yes, he did rank it that way. So would you, if you still had the never fully healed scar of a sharp metal collar glaring out at you from the mirror every time you took off a shirt. He would rather be dead than enslaved, it was that simple.

 

…not that he really WANTED to be dead or anything. Oh, no. Living was much preferable to being dead. He had to be free, but in DEBT…now THAT he could do.

 

He began running through a list of people he knew would help him, and what they could do.

 

Palma was his first thought. She’d probably do it for free, although what she could do was still a rather vague thought. Chocolate them to death? Get them drunk enough to just wander back to The Tower shit-faced and sorry? Not a very feasible tactic…

 

Sage was his second. If he couldn’t beat them to death, he’d flirt them to death. But the price…that would be a little too steep.

 

Dante…Locke didn’t even know where to find him. Sage said he was here, and the younger man would doubtless kill them without a second thought if Locke promised to repay him. But where the sword-happy Major could be found was anyone’s guess, and he needed a definite answer NOW.

 

Grigorsen wasn’t even on his list. The man had probably sent the damn Shadows in the first place, done wasting time with pleasantries and playing the “old friends” card.

 

Aidenai.

 

He nearly tripped at that thought. What could the man do? What would he need to pay? Locke was fairly sure he could find the white-haired assassin easily, but the risk…

 

It’d have to be Aidenai, Locke finally decided, turning to the right and running at a painfully natural full-tilt once again.

 

He ran towards the apartment where he’d met the assassin, cursing the fact that doing anything abnormal to his body would signal the Conduti (because they HAD to have a Conduti, with how that terrifying tingle seemed to follow him wherever he turned) clean and clear, and bring the Shadows and their power-sucking bodies right along with them. Fuck, he hated those things.

 

The first time he’d ever seen one was also the first day he could really remember. Riding in the same contingent as DEAR Uncle Grig, dressed all in black, with the trademark silver Shadow earring in his lobe. His name had been Saret, from what Locke could remember, and he’d had a terrifying seven links in his earring.

 

They said every link in a Shadow’s ear was another “successful” Conduti. What they really meant was another Conduti they’d murdered after their charge had begun to show signs of an imminent overload. And that was when they’d pull out their little Prisma daggers and not only kill them, but slice and dice them too, butchering the Conduti until you couldn’t tell who it had been even if you wanted to.

 

And nobody ever wanted to.

 

So yes, Locke was afraid of Shadows. Deathly afraid. And any other Conduti in their right mind and not already enslaved to the fuckers was too. Not that Locke had ever heard of another person like him, and no he WASN’T going to use that word again, and…damn it, where the hell was Aidenai’s window?!

 

Ah, there it was. Clearly Aidenai was in the process of de-trapping his apartment, since his long white hair could be seen hanging out of the window frame as he scrutinized the sill for booby traps, a hand running along the edges with almost careless abandon, considering the circumstances.

 

“OI! CORPSE!” Locke screamed out, and Aidenai simply held up a hand as Locke skidded to a halt next to a rather worse for the wear brick wall.

 

“Good evening, Locke,” he said pleasantly, eyes still intent on the window frame.

 

“HELP!” he shrieked out, hopping onto the fire escape.

 

Aidenai’s turquoise eyes were so intense Locke felt his heart skip a beat, breath hitching painfully. “Who, when, how many.”

 

“Shadows, now, don’t know how many,” Locke panted, and Aidenai nodded.

 

“Stay in the alley, preferably right where you are now. I’ll be back in four seconds,” he stated, and suddenly where Aidenai’s head had been was a white blur. Locke took the four seconds to check his weapons were still in place, not lying neglected somewhere on a street, jostled out of a sheath from his panicked little jog around Vascun, catching his breath a bit at the same time.

 

Just in time, Aidenai seemed to just materialize in front of him, white duster in place and that same X-shaped thing on his chest. This time, Locke was close enough to see a strange symbol in the middle of it- an o with a plus sign dissecting it equally into four parts, the edges running up to a corner each on the joining diamond-shaped plate.

 

“Conduti?” Aidenai was all business, apparently, and although his eyes were still fixed on Locke, he just exuded an aura of awareness that was unquestionable.

 

“I think so,” Locke stated, just as intensely. “Negotiations afterwards?”

 

“What negotiations?” Aidenai asked, grinning (and it was honest, which just confused him more…). “I’m not charging money.”

 

“And isn’t that a promising statement,” Locke muttered, and Aidenai laughed. LAUGHED! While expecting Shadows and Conduti to fall out of thin air and start stabbing with their little Prisma knives and gold swords and evilness! “You’re insane, you know that?”

 

“I’ve been told so,” Aidenai shrugged, smiling. “And I’ll avoid pointing out your hypocrisy just to add to your debt, hmm?”

 

Then the Shadows were there.

 

Both sides of the alleyway were suddenly swarming with black-covered figures, shimmering with silver and gold as the moonlight hit their weapons and accessories. As expected, they wore no masks, nothing other than a dark, scary expression that made Locke want to cut off their damn heads. Bastards.

 

“You take care of the Conduti, I’ll take care of the Shadows,” Aidenai stated, and Locke nodded, the squirming in his stomach quickly becoming bearable by necessity. Aidenai gave him another smile. “I’d suggest you stay up here, too. Just to be careful.”

 

“I’m not a fuc-” His words were startled in to cutting off when Aidenai was simply GONE, and the black-clad Shadows swarmed towards Locke.

 

The strangely familiar, resonant ring of a blade being drawn from its scabbard had a brother this time, and even though nearly thirty other blades were drawn at the same time, Aidenai’s swords sang over them. He simply stood in the center of the alley, two long, elegantly curving swords in his hands, still and calm as the moon as the dark of the Shadows rushed him.

 

And then all hell broke loose.

 

It was like watching a deadly white ripple in a pool of black. Aidenai’s swords seemed to dance around the other men and women. Parrying with one hand, he thrust with the other, an elegant whirl of death cutting through them like a razor sharp wind. Through the screams and curses and guttural howls, his swords sang, ringing almost solemnly for their victims as some perverse last rite.

 

Locke couldn’t help but wonder if this was what perfection looked like.

 

He snapped himself out of the hypnotic battle below to spot a single, gray-clad figure standing on the adjacent rooftop above, watching with a detached, empty air.

 

“There you are, bitch,” Locke grinned, and finally let the power seep into him, adrenaline carrying the energy through his bloodstream and effectively turning it to quicksilver. It seared through him, burning his veins as the power gathered.

 

Surprised neon-orange eyes met his own glowing red. “Well hi there,” Locke smirked, and let loose, straight in her direction.

 

The power hurtled through the air, an invisible shot that blew her thirty feet into the air with a feeble shriek. Locke gathered that smoldering silver liquid into his legs, and leapt within a moment, quickly right in front of the Conduti. Her eyes widened in fear as he smirked at her, gathering energy into his palms as they hurtled back towards the rooftop.

 

“One question,” Locke snapped as the girl fumbled for any sort of hold over her power. Pathetic. She was so dependent on Lumina the Shadows provided for their Conduti that she couldn’t even connect to it. “Chocolate, or nicotine?”

 

Confused, terrified orange eyes pleaded with him. “We’re still falling…”

 

“Brilliant observation,” Locke grinned viciously at her. “Now. Nicotine or chocolate.”

 

“Ch...chocolate?” she whimpered, and Locke nodded. He flicked his right hand out, and the power was actually visible now, screeching across his hand and weaving between his fingers in a mess of thin red lightning emanating from his fingertips.

 

“An excellent consistency,” Locke smirked, and with a single punch transferred the energy into her.

 

And then, she shrieked as her body was literally liquefied from the energy, pressure and heat Locke had rammed into her. Slowly she compressed and heated, finally dripping down onto the roof as Locke touched down and then propelled his way onto the other roof, frowning at the burn marks on his hand.

 

As soon as his feet touched onto the roof, the lightheadedness kicked in, the world spinning around viciously as his veins screamed at him in outrage. Below it seemed like Aidenai had finished them off, wiping his swords on black clothing as his turquoise eyes swiveled up at Locke.

 

“That was interesting,” Locke stated hoarsely, as if he’d been doing all of the Conduti’s screaming for her.

 

“Locke?!” Aidenai’s voice called out to him, and the thief couldn’t help but wonder why the pretty assassin sounded so panicked as he fell off the roof and into a blissful, fun-loving freefall.