Chapter Six

          "Are you all right, honey? You're not coming down with a fever, are you?" His mother was looking at him with a look that practically screamed concern. Adele Hunter stood on tiptoe, placing a hand on his forehead. Somehow, the gesture felt awkward to Eduard: he was already much taller than his petite mother. Even his brother, Taran, who was five years his senior, was almost a head shorter than him.
          "Yeah, I'm okay," he lied as he slowly brushed her hand away.
          "Are you sure? You look a little pale."
          From the kitchen, Taran said, "Yeah, sure, mom. Make sure little Eddie over there is okay while your real son is suffering in here!" His voice had taken on a certain edge, and Eduard knew that Taran was not in a good mood. Moments later, as Taran lumbered into the living room, Eduard knew he was right. By the look of it, Taran was hungover from his night out partying with his ruffian friends.
          "Now, don't start this again," Adele muttered, a hint of reproach creeping into her voice. "You're no less my son than Eddie is."
          "Yeah, right, mom," Taran hissed icily. "I certainly wasn't left at our door by some weirdo, unlike that leper over there." He jerked his chin at Eduard.
           "Taran-" she broke off, and sighed. Her gaze slid to Eduard, and a look of discomfort crossed her features for a moment. There was a pause, and she muttered, "Go to your room, Eddie. Now."
          Eduard blinked. That was unexpected. Taran was the one acting out and he was the one she chose to dismiss? Now wasn't that a little ... strange? He pondered on this as he shambled off to his room. He'd only began to shut the door when his curiosity got the better of him. This was something he'd never encountered before in the Hunter household. He decided to eavesdrop.
          He crept down the stairs, trying his best to keep out of sight. He listened hard, but it didn't take much effort to hear what his brother was saying. It took a lot more effort to hear the hushed whisper that was his mother's voice.
          "Why are you always defending him?" Taran exploded.
          "Now, come on, Taran," Adele coaxed. "You know it's not like that ..."
          "Yeah, right, mom. You could've just left him at some hospital or something! I mean, you even went through all the trouble of going to court just so you could keep the little brat! Even when you knew we couldn't manage, with dad being the sorry bastard that he is and how hard you have to work just to be able to keep our apartment!"
          "Taran, just listen to me for once-"
          "No, mom! Why don't you listen to me?" Taran cried. "It's not about feeling sorry for him, in spite of what you tell me and yourself every fucking day. You want him to be yours. You wish that he really is your son, instead of some leper you decided to take in, and do you know why, mom?" A pause. Hysterical laughter. Taran's laughter. "You want to believe that the good boy you raised is really yours! You want to believe that you didn't fail as a mother! You see Eduard as a second chance, after seeing how I grew up to be a disappointment! You gave up on me, mom, even back when I was a toddler who knew nothing."
          "That's not true-"
          "Then why don't you just tell him where he came from?" Taran hissed.
          "I-" Adele began, then stopped. She was hesitating, trying to find a good reason.
          No, Eduard thought furiously. No. That can't be true.
          He slipped into his room, closing the door behind him and locking it, locking himself away in his tiny bedroom and trying to forget what he had heard. Trying to un-hear everything, to undo what had been done. He couldn't, and the harder he tried, the more sense everything seemed to make. He shut his eyes tight, trying to clear his thoughts. His head was aching, and every discomfort he'd experienced seemed to be amplified, magnified a thousand times.
          He's weird. Why doesn't he look like either of us? Taran's voice, a memory. He had been five at the time, and Taran was ten.
          That's because he looks more like Daddy. This was Adele's reply.
          "Stop that," he growled as he sank to his knees on the floor, burying his face in his hands.
          What's Daddy like? He pictured his eight year old self, posing that question to Taran.
          How should I know, Taran muttered in response. He's a fucking bastard who's also an irresponsible drunk who took off the moment he realized that he'd got mom pregnant.
          Why the heck didn't he notice how that story didn't add up? If their father had left the moment their mother told him she was pregnant, that would mean that she'd only have one child: Taran. Unless she went out with someone else after that (which was highly unlikely, considering the fact that Adele had only mentioned one 'Daddy', and was too busy to be with any other guy) and had him ...
          "Damn it," he muttered through gritted teeth. "And they fucking didn't tell me!"
          A strange emotion filled him. He wasn't quite sure what it was, but it felt a lot like rage, and ... something else. Something that felt more potent. Something that made his skin grow hot and the blood in his veins boil. It was as if there was a dormant volcano inside of him suddenly springing to life.
           That would probably explain why his room suddenly combusted.


          "Well, don't just stand there, my dear," Apollo drawled. "Go inside."
          Ellie hesitantly walked into the apartment. Apollo followed her shortly and closed the door behind them. Ellie ignored him and merely chose to scrutinize the apartment, which looked nothing like home. It was bare, save for a sofa and a television set in the living room. Not very far from it was a kitchenette, which had little. A fridge, a microwave, dirty dishes in the sink ... She couldn't see any bathrooms or bedrooms, but she was sure that there was at least one or two down the narrow hallway to her left. Unless this was more of a studio home of some sort; she doubted that.
          "Nice ... place," she muttered sarcastically.
          "I can hear the sarcasm in your voice, Bianca. Don't give compliments if they're not sincere," Apollo muttered in response to her comment.
          Ellie whirled around to face him. "It's Ellie now. Don't call me Bianca anymore. I'm Ellie. Say it with me: El-lie. Get it?"
          "Cute," Apollo replied quietly. "At least I won't have to bother to come up with an alias for you when we go."
          "Why are we going?" Ellie asked. "I don't reckon they want me back."
          "No," Apollo confirmed. "They don't."
          "And ... you didn't hurt Ed, did you?" she asked nervously, recalling the fight, as well as the moments after it.
          "Just a memory spell," he replied as he met her eye, making her shiver with repulsion. "On him and the rest of the people present when we ad our little discussion today. Don't worry, it won't mess anything else up. But if he does try to regain his memory, then brain damage would be ... inevitable. But he can't really be that stupid, right?" He grinned. "On a different note, however, I would explain to you why I'm taking you back to that hellhole, but I'll only tell you enough to shut you up."
          Ellie turned away. "You won't shut me up that easily. There's a lot I need to know."
          But Apollo shook his head. "Not what you need to know, dear. You only think you need to know those things, but the truth is, you only want to know. There's a huge difference in that, considering the fact that most of your questions would sum up to useless nuggets of information anyway. Where we're going, the only thing you need to know is how to survive in what I call the Hitler regime, and how to infiltrate and take down the Organization."
          Ellie looked up. "The Organization?"
          Apollo smiled. "Now we're on the same page."

Chapter Five

          Burn. Just let it burn.

          He never thought he would escape the prison, but he did. And it felt good, so good. His sore, aching muscles were soothed by the feel of the cool night air against his skin. His entire body was still warm, still hot and feverish from using his Craft. But the air felt good. Even the damp, after rain smell was good. He had always had a slight aversion to rain, but he'd never felt so happy, so euphoric ...

          The sound of footsteps alerted him. His muscles tensed, and in spite of the aches and pains, he knew he had to run. They would come for him, sooner rather than later. He was a threat to them. He knew that, didn't he? When the Organization rose to power, they offered him and Roxanne a place, as one of the Hunters. Roxanne accepted, choosing to sniff out Impurities and Blanks to be eliminated. He refused, and they had found an excuse to dispose of him. To remove him. The fact that he was an Impurity was enough to justify their actions in capturing him, but Lionel Ashcroft had wanted him out of the picture completely.

          And then they came up with a plan to drag my name through the mud as well as kill me, he thought as he sprang into a run. Like the out-of-control flames he could manipulate, he was almost weightless, quick on his feet. It was almost like flying. But he was already exhausted from using his Craft to escape. He wasn't sure how long he could keep up his pace. He would have to hide soon, but where would he go? There was no one he could trust. Roxanne had betrayed him by joining the Organization. Who did he have left?

          Bryce Cloade, he decided. His only hope. But was Bryce still on his side? He didn't know. He didn't know at all. He only could hope. That was all he had left, he realized. Hope.

          And with this tiny shred of hope, he set off in direction of the Cloades' residence.

          When Eduard woke up, he found himself lying on the ground, in the school parking lot. He had no idea how he wound up there, or what had happened in the past few hours. He could recall himself walking to school and straight to Homeroom, but the events that followed, right up to the point where he woke up here, were a great empty blank. No matter how hard he'd tried, he kept drawing a blank. And he felt sick. Not just plain sick, but sick as in a full blown fever sick.

          He dragged himself home, feeling rather groggy and feverish. He was definitely coming down with something. His head hurt.

          Have I been mugged or something? he wondered. He reconsidered, and found it not possible. Nothing was missing, except for his memories for the past few hours, but who would want to steal that? And who could steal memories, anyway? He was probably in some sort of fugue state, and would snap out of it soon. That was what he hoped, at least.

          His arm had a dull ache; upon closer inspection, he'd noticed a bruise on it. It wasn't even a big enough one to warrant concern. His throat ached a little, too, and there was a bad taste in his mouth. Bitter and a little bit sour, not unlike vomit. That, and added with his elevated body temperature and headache, made him feel like hell.

          I shouldn't have gotten out of bed, he thought miserably.

          Ellie was in the passenger seat of Apollo's Mercedes. She wasn't really sure what model it was, but she didn't really care. What she cared about was an explanation, and Apollo wasn't giving her any. He was simply driving in a rather nonchalant manner, while the radio belted out The Academy Is ... He didn't really bother looking at her. Every now and then he hummed the tune of Everything We Had, regardless of what song was playing. Once or twice, his cell phone rang. Once, he ignored the call until the caller gave up. On the second call, he took the call.

          "Faulkner," he muttered quickly. There was a long pause, then Apollo slid his gaze - his creepy, see-right-through-you gaze - to Ellie, who drew back uncomfortably. He flicked his gaze back to the road as he said, "Yeah, she's with me. Well, I'm running a little late. An unexpected ... inconvenience occurred. But it's all taken care of now. Trust me, I'm not the one you should worry about. Like I said, keep an eye on Friday."

          He ended the call, slipping his phone back into the front pocket of his Dockers. He shifted his gaze to Ellie for one more moment before returning his attention to the road.

          "Well?" Ellie mumbled.

          "'Well' what?" Apollo asked, turning his head to look at her and giving Ellie the full blown effect of his eyes.

          "Aren't you going to tell me anything? I deserve an explanation."

          "Yes, but this is hardly the time and place. You'll know everything in time. Trust me."

          "Why am I going back?" Ellie huffed. "I know they don't want me back. Are you taking me there to kill me? I think you might as well do it now; it'll save you all the trouble."

          "I don't want to kill you, Bianca," Apollo replied.

          "Then why?"

          Apollo didn't reply. He turned his attention back to the road ahead, driving on without another word. Ellie decided not to say anything else. She stared straight ahead as Apollo took them down an unfamiliar road. Ellie definitely didn't recognize this long stretch, and wondered why he was going through the trouble of driving her this far away. As she recalled, one couldn't reach the Outer Arc by car ... nor through any average means of transport.

          "Can't you just open a portal to the Outer Arc?"

          "We're not going there. At least, not yet."

          Ellie frowned. So, if he wasn't taking her back to the Outer Arc yet ... then where was he taking her?

Chapter Four

          Ellie always had skeletons in her closet. But she had never expected them to come out of the closet and come haunt her, especially not this far into her life, since everything that had happened took place a long time ago. She had thought she could outrun her past.
           My mistake, she thought miserably. Apparently Bianca Cloade still existed.
          And now Apollo was here to get her, for reasons beyond her comprehension, and because Eduard was her friend, he was suffering because he happened to be unlucky enough to associate with her. Eduard was going to die, almost literally by his own hands. And she was too helpless to do anything except watch. And maybe scream at Apollo.
           "You bastard!" she screamed. "Leave him out of this! He knows nothing about us! Let him go! I'll follow you back to the Outer Arc if you want; just leave him alone!"
            Eduard was on his knees on the ground, and Ellie could see that all the fight was abandoning him; his struggles had ceased and he was already slipping into unconsciousness. A few more seconds and he might ...
            "I said stop! Didn't you hear me? I said I'll go with you! Just leave him alone!" she cried hysterically.
            Apollo's unusual eyes flicked to her, and his grip on Eduard relaxed. Ellie shot a glance at Eduard, who had regained control of his own hands. He was coughing and gasping as he took several gulps of air. He leaned against the T-Bird behind him to balance himself, and as soon as he had regained enough strength, he slowly rose to his feet, eyeing Apollo warily.
          "Your ... companion here knows enough," Apollo countered. "Even the slightest bit of information could risk the exposure of the existence of the Outer Arc to the filthy mortals here. You know how these vermin can't keep their mouths shut."
          "What do I care?" Ellie spat. "The Outer Arc exiled me, remember. The Organization kicked me out after constructing their lovely dystopia called New Secron. And even if the people here know, what's the risk? New Secron isn't a place they'd want to go. Case closed."
          Apollo's cool gaze was deadly. "You wouldn't know about that, Bianca. Now, are you coming or not? I've spared your friend ... for now."
           "When do we leave?" Ellie asked. She heaved a sigh. Apparently, she was going to be Bianca Cloade again. But ... why was she going back? She frowned, and then shot a glance at Apollo. "But why am I going back? As I recall, they'd exiled me ... They wouldn't want me back. Won't they ...?"
          Apollo opened his mouth to answer, but stopped short when his tie suddenly caught on fire. Ellie jumped at the sight of the pale yellow flames shooting up all of a sudden, but Apollo was calm. He seemed merely annoyed as he patted the flames out and undid his tie. He discarded the burnt garment on the ground nonchalantly.
          "Quite unexpected," he mused as he raised an eyebrow. "Spontaneous combustion is interesting."
          Just then, a wall of blue flame sprang up from the ground, forming a barrier between Apollo and Ellie. Ellie drew back, not wanting to be harmed by the fire. She shot a quick glance at Apollo, who looked a little bit surprised. He tried to sidestep the flames, but the flames seemed to spread around him, forming a circle keeping him from Ellie and Eduard.
          A hand brushed against Ellie's arm. Ellie turned to her side and saw Eduard at her side. His face was dark, the expression unreadable. His ocean blue eyes were fixed in a glare, and he was aiming his death stare at Apollo. For a moment, the intensity of his expression frightened Ellie ... and for a moment, Eduard looked strangely familiar, like someone she'd known back at the Outer Arc. But she couldn't quite place the face and the name. She frowned. What was going on?
          "Let's get out of here, Ellie," Eduard muttered. His voice was a low growl, and sounded strangely menacing ... and unlike him. It was as if he was being possessed by some other being.
          "Ed," she whispered. "God, I think I'm being Punk'd."
          Suddenly, the flames went out, allowing Apollo to move freely again.
          "Right," said the irritated man. "I'm starting to get very, very angry."


          Eduard suddenly felt very sick. It hadn't been a very nice day, considering the fact that it started out with a weird dream, one that got Ellie all freaked out and acting weird, and now a strange man who called Ellie 'Bianca' was attacking them. And he didn't look normal. To make things worse, something strange had happened ... his own hands had strangled him. And yet, somehow, it was the strange man who had done it.
          He massaged his throat, coughing and gasping as he drank in fresh gulps of air. He stared down at his hands for a moment, regarding them the same way one would look at an alien. That was what his hands felt like for one moment. Alien. Unknown.
          He put his hands behind him, grabbing hold of the damaged car, and pushed himself against it to balance himself. He sucked in more air, allowing himself to get stronger. When the wave of dizziness had passed, he slowly rose to his feet. Once, his knees buckled beneath him, almost forcing him to his knees. But he was persistent; he was back on his feet a few seconds later. He eyed the strange man warily, feeling a wave of anger run through him. His feelings of anger and hate were so intense, it disgusted him. He was disgusted with himself for feeling such malice toward another person, disgusted with that Apollo person ... He was so angry and full of hate and contempt, he wanted the man to burn.
          Go burn in hell, he thought disgustedly. Go to hell and just fucking burn there.
          To his surprise, the man did burn. Well, just his tie, actually. And he handled it pretty well.
          Damn it, you asshole, Eduard fumed inwardly. Go to hell, go fucking burn. Just get the hell away from Ellie and me. Just ... go ... and ... burn!
          All of a sudden, a wall of blue flame sprang up, engulfing Apollo and catching the man by surprise. Eduard felt a strange satisfaction in seeing the man try to move away from the flames. He was filled with a strange sense of power, and he liked the idea of burning the man to a crisp right there and then.
          "Let's get out of here," he muttered to Ellie. "We have to go."
          "I think I'm being Punk'd," was Ellie's response.
           Then, almost as quickly as the need to see the man burn came, all the feeling of power, the need to see fire and all the emotion seemed to ebb away, leaving him feeling weak and drained. Wasted. It was like getting a really bad hangover after a night of drinking, except worse.
          "Right," Apollo snarled. "I'm starting to get really angry."
          "Ellie-" Eduard began to say as he tugged on the sleeve of her t-shirt. He was beginning to feel really sick.
          "I don't think it's a good idea, Apollo," Ellie murmured, ignoring Eduard. "We're in the middle of daylight here. There are people watching. You're sure as hell exposing us right now."
          "That," Apollo replied, "can be easily taken care of. So, are you going to come willingly, or do I have to use brute force?"
          "Ellie-" Eduard tugged on the sleeve more urgently. He was feeling really sick now. He felt like throwing up, or something. He was dizzy, so dizzy and dazed the world seemed to spin. Everything around him began to blur ...
          And then it was dark.