Extra: New Era (Part Two)

After combing the yard like raking dead leaves in moonlight, the three crouched on the step, their mood flat as damp stone.

All in all, there’s really nothing here, Yalei said, rubbing his brow, his voice dry as dust on slate.

Feels like we burned the whole night for scraps, Eugene blinked, his words drifting like tired smoke.

What time is it now? Yalei sighed, letting the breath fall like a small stone in a well.

About eleven-thirty, Harry said, glancing at his watch like a firefly winking in the dark.

So the only place left is the house, right? Yalei stroked his chin, thoughts moving like slow clouds.

I thought we’d find something in the yard, Harry sighed, his tone cold as dew. But we should split. Otherwise, this crawl is snail-slow. One big yard took an hour. Isn’t that a joke?

Fair point, Yalei nodded, the gesture neat as a blade.

But— Eugene started, worry fluttering like a moth near a lamp.

He stopped as Yalei and Harry moved in two different directions, like forks in a dark river.

His lips trembled like a leaf, and he swallowed, then picked a path and went, a lone lantern in fog.

Yalei climbed the stairs. A cold draft slid from above and coiled around him, like winter breathing down his neck.

He frowned; for someone who could bend airflow like reeds in wind, this felt wrong as a crooked shadow.

You shouldn’t be here, human, a voice seeped from the ceiling, thin as frost, and Yalei froze like a deer in snow.

Yeah, his dad was a big deal, but he’d grown up in peacetime; talent was a spark, not a torch.

Fear pricked his spine like needles. He forced a breath, then smiled, a thin line of steel. Are you Mrs. Bonnie?

Silence pooled like ink. Yalei went on, his words steady as stepping stones: If you won’t say, then tell me this—did you kill Mrs. Bonnie’s whole family?

Silence held, heavy as wet cloth.

Yalei shrugged, tapped his flashlight, and headed up like nothing mattered, his focus tight as a drawn bow.

Heh-heh-heh. You never listen. When you die, don’t blame me, the voice hissed, then drifted off like a chill wind.

Impressive, Yalei murmured, the word dry as old paper. A small cyclone wrapped him, a clear shield like glassy surf.

Looks like you’re upstairs, huh? he said softly, voice even as a plumb line.

Good thing I didn’t bring the others up. A trick like that would have shredded us. We came for clues, and found the thing in the dark.

He raised his walkie, his tone steady as a locked door: Hey, you two, copy? Hey?

Yeah, we hear you. What’s up, Yalei? Harry’s voice flickered like lamp-glow.

We hear you. What’s wrong? Eugene’s words stumbled like boots on gravel.

Listen up. Leave. Right now. Don’t look back until I say, Yalei said, pausing, the air tight as a drum.

Did something happen? Harry paused too, his voice dim as clouded glass.

Nothing big. Just— it’s late. Don’t linger. Get clear, Yalei said, holding the line like an oar.

Eugene stood at the front door with the walkie, brows knotted like tangled vines, staring up with a tight chest.

He could swear Yalei had never left the house; the flashlight beam hadn’t moved, steady as a pin. If Yalei said that, something was wrong as a sour note.

He swallowed, voice careful as tiptoeing on ice: Yalei, are you in trouble?

Harry stopped in the garden, his steps halting like a wind-up toy. Is that it, Yalei?

At the stairhead, trapped between up and down, Yalei frowned. He forced a grin that cracked like dry clay. No. You’re overthinking it. Head home. It’s past midnight. Don’t stay out.

But—

I said move! Yalei snapped, the word sharp as a whip.

Harry paused. Yeah, trouble for sure, he thought, the idea cold as rain.

Eugene, then we go, Harry said, tugging him like pulling a kite from a tree.

Eugene hesitated, teeth biting down like a latch. He didn’t enter. He backed off fast, footsteps pattering like raindrops.

They met in the back yard. Eugene yelped, heart thumping like a drum as Harry startled him from shadow.

Harry grabbed him and ran out the gate, breath slicing the night like a blade. Eugene, call the cops. I’ll tell Uncle Austor.

But— what do I even say? Eugene stammered, words knotting like string.

Don’t overthink it, dummy. Tell them someone’s life is in danger here. Ask them to come now. Give Mrs. Bonnie’s address, then hang up. If Yalei’s in trouble, the cops won’t blame you, Harry said, sharp as flint.

Oh—okay, Eugene nodded, pulling his phone like a lifeline and sprinting to the side.

Harry ran for the Austor place, feet drumming the street like hooves.

Eli sat on the second-floor sofa, a faint smile unfolding like a paper fan.

Looks like his son chose good friends, he thought, warmth spreading like tea in cold hands.

He waited quietly for Harry, calm as an old tree holding the wind.

When Eugene reported they’d left, Yalei finally breathed out, the relief soft as a sigh of rain.

He climbed again, step by step, each tread firming like stones laid in a stream.

He recalled Eli’s words. Whatever you do, be ready to bear it, like a roof holding snow.

If Eli couldn’t intervene, then he would. He’d be the knife that cut the knot.

His steps steadied, rhythm sure as a drumbeat.

The voice slid back, raw and cold, like rust scraping iron. Kid, you’re skilled. You love sticking your nose where it doesn’t belong?

I think with power comes duty. If I’ve got what most don’t, I should do what I can, Yalei said, his tone clear as a bell.

You really believe that? the voice asked, slow as dripping water.

Yes, Yalei answered, the word solid as a stone.

How laughable, the voice whispered close, breath like grave dust. Yalei turned, swung his flashlight, carving the dark like a blade.

What stood there barely counted as human—mummy-dry skin, and from its back, batlike wings folded like torn umbrellas.

It split a grin, teeth like broken glass. Since you walked in, I’m not letting you leave!

Yalei’s eyes hardened, a storm front rolling in. Wind howled past the dried thing, a white roar like surf on rocks.

It was hurled mid-air, slammed into the wall with a thud, the plaster quivering like a drumhead.

What are you here for? the cadaver hissed, pushing up from the floor, shock shaking it like a reed.

It was rattled; his trick had cut clean as wind through silk.

As a blood fiend several rungs below a blood thrall, it couldn’t fathom what he did, its thoughts brittle as ash.

Yalei gritted his teeth. He gathered wind in both hands like gripping invisible blades and hurled it.

To free the Bonnie family, he said, each word landing like a hammer.

Is that so? the corpse blinked, then didn’t dodge. The gale hit. Its neck twisted with a dry crack, head and body parting like rotten wood, and both thumped to the floor.

Yalei stepped forward to check, but a hand slid in front of him, firm as a bar across a gate.

He followed the arm up and saw the familiar silhouette, a lighthouse in storm—Eli.

Relief broke over Yalei like warm rain. Sweat had soaked his clothes like a second skin. He sank onto the stair, panting.

Eli looked at the corpse and shook his head, the gesture weary as autumn.

He had already mapped the hidden tracks of this world’s oddities, like a hunter reading prints.

After long study, and after sealed government files peeled open like old scabs, he understood the lay of things.

He finally knew how the Bloodkin and humans coexisted in this world, a wary dance like shadows circling a candle.

He sighed. Best to keep his hands clean of too much. Let’s go, Yalei. The police will be here soon. Leave it to them.

Father... it— Yalei began, his voice thin as thread.

She was Mrs. Bonnie. Something bit through half her neck. By accident, she turned into this. The creature never meant to make her. So she kept human memories, and could talk to you, Eli said, his words grave as earth.

Yalei fell silent, his thoughts spinning like leaves in eddies. He didn’t know what to do, and sleep took him like a black tide.

Eli looked at the two high schoolers he’d knocked out and at his fainted son, and shook his head, the motion slow as dusk. It won’t end so neatly, he murmured, the words sinking like stones.

Yalei! Rough night? What happened? Eugene hooked an arm over Yalei’s shoulder, grin bright as a streetlamp.

Nothing big. The cops questioned me late, that’s all, Yalei yawned, the sound lazy as a cat.

Why were you so pushy that night? Did you see something upstairs? Eugene leaned in, palms on Yalei’s desk like anchors.

Yalei yawned again. Nah. Just saw blood all over and a corpse. Figured the killer might still be around, so I made you bail. I left after. Right?

Then why’d the cops grill you? Eugene asked, curiosity pecking like a sparrow.

We found the body and called it in. Of course they took statements. The corpse had been dead at least a week. It was rotted to a blur.

Damn. That’s nasty as a clogged drain!

You didn’t see it. How do you know? Yalei smirked, a flick like sunlight on water.

You can imagine that kind of thing, man. It paints itself, Eugene said, face wrinkling like crumpled paper.

Please. You’re nastier for imagining it, Yalei shot back, words quick as arrows.

Hahahaha.