Brothers of Chaos (The Unstoppable Titans Book 1) (14 page)

Suddenly a
muffled explosion occurred from behind him. Owen covered his head as water
rained down on him. A moment later he stood up and looked to where the school
of dogfish had been. He quickly counted sixteen of them; all were floating in
the water, dead.

The big
daddy, on the other hand, was alive and well in the pond and was now moving at
an alarming speed toward Owen. He reached into his pocket to grab another
Buster, but the king jumped on him and he dropped the bomb, having not
activated it yet.

The horrible
creature was on top of Owen now, trying to bite his face off. He held it back
as best he could but the dogfish was heavy and strong; the slippery, wet fur on
the creature’s body made it difficult for him to get a good hold. The monster’s
horrible breath made him dizzy and nauseated.

Feeling two
flapping fins on both sides of the creature’s body, Owen grabbed them and
pulled the dogfish off of him, throwing it to the side.

There was
only one thing he could think to do: He pulled his hoodie off and slapped it
carefully against a nearby rock. He heard the reassuring sound of the tiny
bombs all being activated at once. The big-daddy dogfish lunged at Owen again.
He jumped to the side, holding the hoodie in front of the leaping monster. It
gobbled the hoodie down in one bite. Owen knew running would be difficult on
the slippery rocks, so he dove into the pond where the water was deeper.

He felt the
explosion before he heard it. The concussive wave swept against his back,
pushing him deeper into the water until he hit his head on the rocky floor. He
quickly rose back to the surface, gasping.

It took him
a moment to catch his breath, but when he did, he saw that the big daddy was no
more. There were pieces of its body floating in the water, its blood turning
the clear water black. What remained of Owen’s hoodie also floated on the
surface. He looked up and saw the boy still standing there. He stood at the
edge of the pond, mouth agape. Owen could tell now the boy couldn’t be any
older than ten. He had on a black shirt with a rock band’s logo—one Owen didn’t
recognize—and tattered jeans. His blond hair was made up into a fauxhawk.

“Why did you
kill them?” the boy asked.

Owen wasn’t
sure he’d heard correctly. He stared at the boy for a moment, and then said,
“They were attacking you. They would have eaten you if I hadn’t stopped them.”

“
Nuh
-uh! They were just playing with me.”

“It didn’t
look like it to me, not from where I was standing,” said Owen, and then he
asked the question he’d wanted to ask as soon as the boy first appeared at the
edge of the pond, feeding the creatures. “Were you keeping them as pets?”

“No,” the
boy said, his voice high with shock. “Well, maybe. I just found them a few
months ago. I live over in those apartments.” He pointed to the apartments Owen
had passed while walking with Bentley. “My friends and I feed … fed them a few
times. There were two big ones—a mom and dad—but the mom died. I buried her.”

The boy
appeared to be on the verge of tears, but was hiding them as best as he could.
Owen felt awkward at the moment; he was still standing in the pond as well. He
stepped on to the pebbled edge with the boy.

“I’m sorry,”
said Owen. “It’s just … I kill monsters—it’s kind of my thing—and I thought
they were monsters. And it looked like you were in trouble.”

“Well, I
wasn’t. You should’ve minded your own business, mister,” the boy said, the
tears flowing now as he turned and ran back to his apartment, which was barely
visible from where Owen stood. “You’re the monster, and I hope someone kills
you!” the boy yelled from the darkness.

That struck
Owen as a little harsh, but he said nothing in return. There was nothing to
say. Suddenly he heard movement behind him. He turned quickly and saw a single
dogfish standing on a boulder on the other side of the pond. It stared at
him—it was a familiar stare. It was Bentley, Owen was sure of it. Bentley
continued to stare for a moment or two, and then dove off the boulder and swam
away.

*
 
*
 
*

Owen walked
into the condo half an hour later. He was cold and still a little wet. He was
also very tired. He took a quick shower, changed into warm, dry clothes (he
already missed his hoodie), plopped down on his comfortable bed and turned on
his TV. Nothing good seemed to be on. He flipped through the channels, hardly
taking in what was actually on any of them.

The events
that occurred tonight had brought to the surface his doubts about what he and
his friends did with their lives. Owen had killed a whole family of what he
thought were dangerous creatures. As it turned out, though, they were a little
boy’s harmless pets. Thinking back to the dream he had at the game, he
remembered the furry creature being pretty harmless until Owen had held the orb
up to it. Then he’d ordered it to kill the other creature. Sure, it had only
been a dream, but most of his dreams lately all had something in common: the
orb. He knew better than to take these dreams lightly. What was this orb? Why
did he keep dreaming about it?

He didn’t
worry too much about the things he had killed so far—the five vampire-like
creatures—but what about the strange things he was more than likely to
encounter in the future? Should he and the others even be doing what they did?
How could one classify a monster anyway? He had misjudged the dogfish greatly.
At that moment, Owen felt like a murderer instead of a monster slayer.

He continued
flipping through the channels, his eyelids growing heavy.

Before he
knew it, he was asleep and dreaming. He knew it was a dream because he was
walking along a highway. The highway, however, was made entirely of shimmering
gold light. There were gaps here and there where nothing but black void lay.
Owen feared stepping on those gaps, feared he would fall into the nothingness
beyond.

He didn’t
know where he was walking to or why, but he kept doing it anyway. This trek was
familiar to him, despite the odd location. He looked up to the sky and saw a
large black orb where the moon—or sun—should be. It was extremely unsettling.

As he
continued his mysterious journey, he saw something slowly materialize in front
of him. It was a man-sized shadow, and it merely stood there. Owen didn’t know
whether to walk through it or around. He thought he saw red hair on its
head—the only other source of color in this world besides Owen’s clothes.

“This place
is crazy, huh?” the figure asked.

Owen jumped
in surprise. “Yes. I’ve never dreamed of this place before.”

“Oh, this
isn’t a dream.”

That caught
Owen short as he stopped in front of the figure. “What do you mean?”

“I’m real; I
reached out my mind to you.”

“How is that
possible?”

“We share a
link, you and I.” The figure sounded like a young man.

“Who are
you?”

The figure
shook its head. “That’s not important right now.”

“I think it
is. You just said we share a link, and you’re real, and this isn’t a dream. I
don’t even know what you look like.”

“I don’t
know what you look like either,” the figure replied playfully. “You’re just
appearing to me as a shadow with blondish hair.”

“Why can’t
we see each other?” Owen asked.

“Because the
link isn’t strong enough, I’m guessing. This is the first time I’ve done this.”

“But why are
you doing this?”

The figure
sighed. “Because I need to ask you for a favor. But first, do you ever dream
about an orb?”

Owen stared
in wide-eyed wonder. “Yes. Do you know what it is?”

“Not only
that, but I have it with me now.”

Owen looked
for it.

“I don’t
mean with me in this place. I have it with my real body.”

“How did you
get it? What is it?”

“As to how I
got it, let’s just say I inherited it. As for what it does, I can only say it
was built to bring peace on Earth.”

Owen thought
back to the dream he’d had at the softball game. He’d used it to make one
creature kill another. How was that peaceful? “Why are you here now?” he found
himself asking.

“Because,
and I’m embarrassed to admit this, I don’t know how to turn on the damn thing.”

Owen
laughed. “How is that possible?”

The figure
laughed too. “Beats me. The thing is, I think you do know how to turn it on. I
need your help.”

Owen grew
suspicious. “What did you say your name was again?”

“I didn’t,
but you can call me Michael.”

“Well,
Michael, I’m not used to strangers walking up to me and demanding strange
things.”

“I see. You
want something in return.”

“That’s not
what I meant,” Owen said quickly.

“No, I know.
But I think it will encourage you to help me. What do you want?”

Owen didn’t
want to take this seriously, but he couldn’t help but think about the night his
father died, and of all the strange things that happened after. He thought
about the creatures plaguing San Sebastian, about his own mysterious strength.
He wanted explanations for all of it.

But only one
question came to mind.

“What is the
orb?”

There was no
doubt to what he was really asking the stranger. He wanted to know everything
about it, and he knew the figure was leaving something out, something crucial.

“I already
told you,” Michael replied heatedly.

“Why do I
feel you’re holding out on me?”

“Because you
have trust issues. I understand.” Michael took on a joking, easy tone now.
“Isn’t there anything else you’ve always wanted to know?”

“What, are
you the information genie or something? You can just pluck anything out of thin
air and tell me?” Owen was fed up with this.

Michael
stood there for a moment, motionless. Owen knew he’d angered him with his
skepticism. Finally, the stranger asked, “You don’t want world peace?”

“Not without
all the information. I’m not trusting it to some stranger who is holding out on
me.”

“You don’t
want to know what happened to your mother?”

Owen gasped.
He had been thinking about her but chose not to say anything. How did Michael
know?

“I’m
disappointed.” Michael took a step forward, reaching out with a shadowy arm.

And then
Owen woke up.

He was still
in bed, his TV on. His heart was racing for some reason. He had dreamed about
something but couldn’t remember what. He started flipping through the channels
to slow his heart when something caught his eye on one of them. He flipped back
to the channel. It was the news. A beautiful dark-haired reporter named Pamela
Johnson was speaking but Owen couldn’t hear her; the volume was turned down.
But he probably wouldn’t have heard anything she was saying anyway. His heart
was beating too loudly because the picture of Eric himself, superimposed next
to the reporter, had his attention. He quickly regained his senses and turned
up the volume.

“…body of
Eric Spencer was found yesterday by a local woman in a wooded area in San
Sebastian. Cause of death has not yet been released, but police confirm the young
man died over two weeks ago…”

Owen jumped
out of bed and was out the door in a flash. He had to get the others together
to share this news. Two weeks? They had just fought Eric last night. But there
was no mistaking what Owen saw with his own eyes on the news: Eric’s dead body,
two weeks deceased, had been found in San Sebastian.

That meant
whoever—whatever—they had been tracking this whole time wasn’t the real Eric. A
shiver ran through Owen’s body as he ran out the front door.

What did
this mean for Chris?

Owen tried
calling him several times, but got no answer. Since he had no idea where Chris
was, he decided to go for Daniel and Alyssa first.

Owen walked into the house,
seeing the huge assortment of people. The music was overwhelmingly loud. He
couldn’t believe this place wasn’t crawling with cops yet. He searched the
living room. With all the people there, it would be hard to find Alyssa and
Daniel. A big crowd had formed at one side of the living room, though, so Owen
made his way toward it to see what was going on.

*
 
*
 
*

Michael felt
it instantly: a tingly sensation he could not ignore. He looked feverishly
around the living room from where he stood in the kitchen. There was no telling
the source of his sudden alertness—there were too many people around.

There was a
big crowd in front of the fireplace. Michael felt some force drawing his
attention in that direction, so he headed toward the crowd. He had felt
something similar when he’d tried contacting the other half of his
consciousness; the beer had relaxed his mind enough to attempt it. He had been
unsuccessful in convincing the boy to help him. But at least he had made
contact. That was a start, even though it had ended in failure.

But now the
boy was here in the real world. Michael could feel him in this very room. Now
all he had to do was seize him and take him to Jason. Michael’s big brother
would know what to do.

*
 
*
 
*

Alyssa saw
from the back porch that people were crowding around something in front of the
fireplace.

“Looks like
trouble,” she told David.

“Damn it all
to hell!” David shouted.

He and
Alyssa headed inside. As they pushed their way through the people, Alyssa’s
heart started to race suddenly—she had completely forgotten about Daniel. She’d
left him alone with a seemingly endless amount of alcohol. She knew even before
she reached the center of the crowd something had happened to him.

And sure
enough there was Daniel, passed out on the floor with everyone staring down at
him. Alyssa’s heart leapt, though, when she saw Owen kneeling beside him.

“What are
you doing here?” she asked him.

“We’re in
some serious trouble,” he said, picking Daniel up.

*
 
*
 
*

With Daniel
in his arms, Owen turned toward the front door, assuming Alyssa was going to
follow. As soon as he took a step, though, he felt a strange sensation wash over
him. He felt as if someone were watching him—no, not just watching, but drawing
him in somehow.

He looked
around suddenly but saw just about everyone staring at him. There were two
stupid-looking blondes laughing at him, hiding their faces behind their hands.
There were a couple of jocks puckering their lips at Owen, as if to imply he
and Daniel were lovers, no doubt.

Then there
was a skinny, pale red-haired guy, but he was not making any funny faces. In
fact, his expression was intense, his eyes wide and alive, like he’d just seen
something truly amazing. Well, it was a funny face, but not in the same vein as
the jocks.

Red hair.
That struck something within Owen, but he didn’t know why. He quickened his
pace, hoping Alyssa would keep up.

*
 
*
 
*

There was no
doubt in Michael’s mind he had found who he was looking for: the blonde
carrying Daniel, the under-aged drunk who built robots.

Michael took
a step toward the retreating figures when a hand grabbed his arm. The hand held
firmly, spinning him around. There stood David Hernandez.

“What the
hell are you doing here?” David asked him. “I didn’t invite you.”

Michael
turned back to the one who had carried Daniel away and did not see him anymore.
He was gone! Michael ran to the front door and looked out onto the front lawn.
There were a bunch of people standing around, drinking. There were also many
cars. Michael couldn’t see or sense the one he’d been looking for anymore,
though the boy had just been a few feet away, just within his grasp.

He had been
right there!

With a fury
Michael wasn’t aware he possessed, he turned, grabbed David by his left arm and
lifted him off the ground. No one noticed David, the host of the party, being
carried away into the garage by someone who didn’t look the least bit capable
of such a feat.

*
 
*
 
*

David was
sweating profusely when he woke up moments ago. He wanted very much to wipe the
sweat from his forehead, but he couldn’t because his hands were tied behind his
back. He glanced repeatedly from Les to Michael, who were standing in front of
him.

He didn’t
understand what was going on and he could barely remember how he wound up tied
to a chair. He remembered most of the party and talking to Alyssa. Everything
after that was a blur.

He looked
around, noticing they were in a garage—probably his own—and that he was tied to
a lawn chair. The sound of music could be heard. David had no idea what time it
was, but he was pretty sure the party was still going on inside the house. He
felt groggy, and the back of his head hurt.

He saw
Michael sliding a foldout table in front of him. He also drew up a chair and
sat down on the other side of the table, across from David.

“What are
you doing?” David asked.

Michael
didn’t answer. David looked to Les, hoping for some kind of response. He got
none. Now Michael was placing a knife on the table; a huge knife, unlike any
David had ever seen in his life. He assumed it was a hunting knife.

“Come on,
dude,” said David. “Just tell me what you want.”

Michael
fixed his blue eyes upon him. “Earlier, I saw someone I’ve been looking for.
And then, I lost him … because of you.”

“Well, I’m
sorry. Seriously, I am. What can I do to make it up to you?” David asked,
looking again at the knife on the table.

“You can
tell me who that blond guy was at the party.”

“Which one?
There were a lot of blond guys.”

“The one
who’s friends with … Daniel.”

David thought
for a moment and then said, “Owen?”

“Is that his
name?”

“Yeah. I
don’t know anything about him.”

David, in
fact, knew quite a bit about Owen. He knew he was different from everyone else.
Alyssa had told David a few stories. However, he felt sharing those with
Michael might not be a good idea.

“He’s just
an ordinary guy, for all I know,” David added.

The next
thing happened in the blink of an eye. David saw Michael pick the knife up; he
saw a flash of light pass his face; he saw Michael put the knife back down. It
had something red on it, now. It looked like … blood.

That was
when David felt an overwhelming pain on his face. He looked down to see his
nose was no longer there. Michael had cut it off completely. David screamed,
his blood dripping down over his lips, into his mouth. Michael bent over and
picked something off the floor. It was David’s nose. Michael held it between
his fingers.

“Got your
nose,” he said with a laugh. He looked back at Les, who gave a nervous laugh in
return. David was still screaming. Michael put the nose on the table next to
the knife.

“That is not
all you know about this guy. I want to know more. I want to know where he’s
going or I will cut off something you really don’t want me to cut off.”

David tried
to stop screaming. Michael picked the knife up again and shoved it into David’s
crotch, which caused him to go silent at once.

“They said
they were going after some guy named Eric,” said David in a stopped-up voice.
“He’s some kind of monster they’re hunting. That’s all I know.”

“Where is
Eric?”

“I don’t
know,” David said, spitting out blood that got into his mouth. He made sure to
spit to the side as not to get any on Michael.

“Come on,
man!” Les screamed. “Just tell him! He will kill you!”

David could
tell Les sounded scared, as if he were trying to help him instead of intimidate
him.

“Eric likes
to go to nightclubs around downtown San Sebastian a lot. That’s where they
found him the last time. He might be there tonight.”

Despite the
pain, David tried to stay coherent. He had thought this situation was weird
before, but now it was only getting weirder. Michael put his knife down and
placed his hands on both sides of David’s head.

The pain was
immediate: David could feel his head vibrating horribly, his face quivering. It
almost felt like being shocked by a high-tension wire.

Except this
was a million times worse, and it was in his head. David shut his eyes and
screamed, but he couldn’t hear his scream; he could feel his throat going raw.

And then the
horrible vibration stopped. David opened his eyes and saw Michael’s horrible
face staring at him, but now it was covered with flecks of blood. David assumed
it was his and that it splashed off of his missing nose when his head had been
shaking so horribly.

Michael
glanced over his shoulder to Les and said, “Thanks.” He stared at Les for a
moment longer than was comfortable. Les was clearly confused by it. Finally
Michael turned back to David and said, “Les here thinks I kill too much, and
I’m starting to think he’s right. It appears we both have problems, don’t we? I
have a problem with killing and you have a problem with keeping your nose out
of people’s business, so to speak.” He nodded to David’s nose on the table.
“Therefore, I have an experiment I want to conduct: I want you to close your
eyes and keep them closed. If you open them, I will kill you.”

“How long do
I keep them closed?”

“For as long
as you can.”

David looked
from Michael to the knife and back. Tears were streaming down his face now. He
shook his head slowly, begging Michael to stop.

“Close your
eyes,” Michael said in a soothing voice.

David did
so. Everything went dark. His heart raced as his hearing became magnified. He
heard a chair scraping against the garage floor, heard the knife being picked
up off the table, scraping it a little. Then he heard nothing at all.

A
significant amount of time seemed to pass.

He felt so
compelled to open his eyes, but resisted doing so. He tried to occupy his mind.
He thought of the books he’d bought but hadn’t read—he was going to read them
all as soon as this was over. That screenplay he’d started—he was going to
finish it.

David knew
he was an incredibly faithful friend. He had put up with Alyssa’s craziness for
years, even going as far as to help her with her little venture. He had a lot
of friends, and his friends knew things. There had been much talk about some
strange characters frequenting the Trails.

A friend had
told him about two weird guys who wore strange clothes (always the same
clothes, and nothing that matched), and never spoke. The guys had taken an
interest in a couple of girls, and those very girls had wound up dead a day
later. David alerted Alyssa, and she and her friends had looked into it.

Yes, David
Hernandez was an incredible friend, and he didn’t deserve what was happening to
him at this very moment.

He slowly
opened his eyes. That was when Michael, with a wicked grin, sliced off the top
of David’s head, through the mouth. David saw the top half of his own head
topple end over end, landing on the floor. He worked his eyes around, seeing
two pairs of feet leaving the garage.

Then he saw
nothing at all.

*
 
*
 
*

Patterson’s
Dueling Piano Bar was busy tonight; the ladies walking in were extremely
tempting. Eric watched from across the street, waiting to make his move. Picking
the right victim was an art; he couldn’t pick just any body. His choices
depended on what he was hungry for at the time.

Of course,
for Eric, it wasn’t just about satisfying his appetite. He also wanted to
update his DNA so he could change appearances if need be.

He had
assumed the form of Eric Spencer a while ago. He’d caught him coming out of a
club a few streets down, drank his blood—acquired his memories—then took his
shape.

The impostor
now posing as Eric knew he couldn’t very well go around in his true form. He
looked more like something he saw in a horror movie once.

He thought
back to that movie and to the person he’d watched some of it with—Stephanie
Polansky. They’d cuddled on her bed, the way the real Eric used to do with
girls before he met his untimely end. Then, he’d sunk his teeth into her neck.
He’d gotten quite a lot of her blood too before she escaped, running out into
the hall where those two guys were waiting to ambush him.

Eric knew
very little about his physiology, but, like a baby learning how to walk and
talk, he had learned how to control his actions. He knew staying out in the sun
for even a few minutes burned his skin terribly, and he could change form at
will but he required a certain amount of their DNA to work with.

The only
thing he couldn’t do was re-grow damaged body parts. Damage was stored into his
body’s memory so no matter what form he changed into, that damage would remain.

So he donned
an eye patch. It was better than nothing. He couldn’t help but feel
overwhelming hatred toward the boy who did this to him—that blond kid.

Eric
approached Busby Street along with a couple of people. He noticed they were
staring at him. He’d hoped his eye patch wouldn’t catch that many people’s
attention, but it clearly was, and more so than he felt was necessary. The
people were murmuring among themselves now.

When I find that blond kid, I’m going to
tear him apart.

He made it
across the street now and approached the entrance to the bar. There were many
girls standing about. Eric couldn’t decide which to seduce.