Kinzer crashed down onto him, clinging to the guy. He was ashamed at how, even though he didn’t know this mortal, he just needed to hold a body, to have some sort of closeness to someone so he could believe he wasn’t as alone as he knew he was in this nightmarish world.
After they cleaned up, they said their curt goodbyes, surely both filled with shame about the encounter.
Kinzer hopped in a car he’d bought with some cash he still had from Trey and Dedrus. When he reached the warehouse he was squatting in, he stumbled into the alley behind it, toward the entrance he typically used.
He’d been staying there since he’d fled the scene of the violent immortal massacre at Veylo’s hideout. The massacre that had him wanted by the Council for crimes against immortals.
Treycore was being hunted as well, but after they’d split up that night, he could only hope he and Kid had gotten away and were seeking their own refuge, safe from the Council. He had to believe that, as the alternative was so horrifying, Kinzer didn’t dare consider it.
Kinzer was glad he had enough serum to keep him from being tracked by the Council for at least a few more months. He’d managed to procure some more from one of his only remaining immortal contacts.
He’d tried to ask his contact for help with his mission, but the fallen was just a dealer and made it clear if Kinzer pressed for anything more than their usual shit, he would bail on him. Kinzer wasn’t in a position where he could risk allies—not anymore.
He carried a long package under his arm, his broadsword disguised in brown packaging paper, which he’d brought with him in his car in case of emergencies. He did his best not to go anywhere without it. Not at the risk of being cornered and captured by emissaries of the Council. Because if he was captured, he knew his fate: a kangaroo court where he’d be tried and promptly executed.
He unlocked the deadbolt he’d installed on what had been a broken door. It creaked open slowly, and an uneasy feeling rose within him. Something about the atmosphere…some lingering sense he still had even without many of his immortal gifts…without his wings.
He continued opening the door so he wouldn’t rouse any suspicion if some villain was waiting for him inside. Then in a quick maneuver, he spun around and ran back through the alley.
A dark figure swooped down before him, its silhouette obscuring the streetlight illuminating the alley. Kinzer grabbed the hilt of his sword before tearing the paper packaging off. He slashed at the figure…
CLASH!
The immortal was armed with his own sword, and as his crashed down against Kinzer’s weapon, Kinzer was reminded of how inferior his own strength was as the blow threw him back against the brick wall of the warehouse.
“Fuck!” Kinzer shouted.
The immortal, much taller than himself, landed before him, the edges of his white wings glistening in the orange streetlamp glow.
As Kinzer recovered from the intensity of the immortal’s attack, he went for him again before he felt something sharp poke at his neck. He stopped in his tracks and turned to another shady figure, Kinzer assumed another immortal. He didn’t have his wings out, and judging by where he stood, he’d come from the warehouse, he’d been the one waiting for him inside. He held his sword out as he said, “Kinzer, drop your weapon.”
They had to be from the Council, just as he feared. Somehow they’d tracked him, found him.
Bastards.
Kinzer took deep breaths, cursing himself.
“Take it from me, you dumb fucks,” Kinzer said, jumping back and readying his sword before him, then dashing between the immortals as they tested his swordplay skills—skills lacking only because of his weakened state that only grew worse the longer he went without his wings.
He heard something stir above him and looked up to see a new assailant descending upon him. Before he had a chance to react, the immortal landed on him, driving something sharp into his neck.
“Fuck!” Kinzer shouted.
A burning sensation raced through him. Whatever he’d been stuck with must’ve been poisoned, or a sedative that would allow the bounty hunters to take him in to the Council so he could be tried for his alleged crimes against immortals. He was royally fucked, but not giving up. After all, what did he have to lose at that point?
The immortal’s weight crashed down against him, forcing him to the ground. Kinzer whirled around, pulling his sword up to stab his attacker, but one of his accomplices seized Kinzer’s wrist, then twisted so sharply that it forced Kinzer to release it. While that immortal maintained his grip on Kinzer’s wrist, the one on top of him took his other. But Kinzer wasn’t going to allow himself a moment to despair, to surrender. He was an animal, a beast trapped in a corner, and he lashed out, shifting across the asphalt and turning as much as he could to bite into the neck of the immortal on his back. He dug his teeth deep.
“Fucker!” the immortal cried as he released Kinzer’s wrist, which gave Kinzer the chance to get a punch in and force the immortal onto his side.
Kinzer pivoted across the ground and kicked the other immortal in the face, and when he was released, he hopped to his feet and darted down the alley.
These immortals weren’t using their swords, he noticed, which gave him confidence they wanted him alive, or at least, they preferred it that way, which was a tremendous advantage.
He ran through the open doorway into the warehouse and scurried through a few hallways before coming to the room he usually slept in. Light poured in through a window on the adjacent wall, illuminating his blow-up mattress. He squatted by the mattress, lifted it, and grabbed another sword he’d hidden for such an occasion.
He heard the patter of feet behind him and whirled around, slashing before him and nicking the higherling behind him in the cheek. It was the tallest higherling, the one he’d first seen in the alley. Kinzer jumped back and swung his sword before him for protection.
They exchanged a few blows before Kinzer felt a rush of energy fill his head—whatever he’d been stuck with outside was clearly taking effect, weakening him, making him feel like he was about to pass out. He needed to get out of there. He turned and headed through a door on the wall beside his mattress.
