Skylar Ryan: Betrayal (A Skylar Ryan Short Story) Read online

  SKYLAR RYAN

  BETRAYAL

  A SKYLAR RYAN SHORT STORY

  by S.L. PERRINE

  C U R R E N T T I T L E S

  The Crawford Witch Chronicles

  Immortal Slumber

  Power Surge (June 16, 2018)

  The Blood Rites Trilogy

  Blood Rites

  Turning the Stone

  The Beast Within

  Open at Sunrise

  A N T H O L O G I E S

  Crossroads in the Dark II: Urban Legends

  Dream Sequence

  Crossroads in the Dark III: Monsters Under the Bed

  Come Play with Me

  Damsels of Distress

  The Hunter’s Curse

  Find more about SL Perrine at www.slperrine.com

  WE MUST LIVE ALONE IN OUR HEARTS, OR SUFFER THE PAIN

  Rain trickled down on the city. The night looked shiny in the light despite it. Puddles covered the rooftop of the ten-story apartment building. It was a cesspool of poverty. Skylar thought it could use a good wash. Cracks in the rooftop promised water leaks, at least for the top floor residences. She thought how lucky she was to be on the fifth floor. Yeah, lucky. If that’s what one would call it.

  Skylar Ryan put her foot up on the ledge to inspect the buckles of her black combat boots. She tucked her black leggings into her sock and stomped her foot back next to the other. She pulled her hood down towards her eyes a bit more and raised the zipper on her black leather jacket. It didn’t do much to keep her dry, but she was warm.

  Looking out over the rooftops nearby, she propelled herself forward into a sprint. At the edge of the building, she lifted herself and flew into the sky. Her mood had been seriously soured by the rain. As she drifted in the air, her arms above her head, it began to lighten. She started every night the same way, and every time her mood lifted. She knew she’d never experienced anything like the feel of the air as it caressed her body. Now, Skylar could never get enough. She let herself enjoy it, but after a few minutes, it was time to open her eyes again and get to work. Rain soaked through her leggings, but she didn’t care. She was hunting, and that took precedence over everything. That was the first thing Malcolm had taught her.

  “Once you hit the air, that’s all there is; the hunt, nothing more, nothing less. Don’t forget it.” He tucked a strand of dark black hair behind her ear. It was the first time he’d touched her. She stopped counting when she finally realized his touch wasn’t meant to hurt her, which only took a year. Now she didn’t flinch when he reached out to play with her hair. She had let him gain her trust a little bit at a time.

  Skylar never felt safe, until she was in the air away from the crowd of people and the confines of the buildings. When she was little, growing up in an orphanage meant she’d be forever in a horde of bodies. Bodies that traveled through the halls together, brushed their teeth together, ate together. When they had more kids than beds, they even slept together, but not Skylar. She slept in the corner of the room on a cold hardwood floor, just to be alone; to be away from the crowd. Once she was older, her favorite spot was the top of any building, as long as she was by herself. She preferred to be by herself. It’s the only time she didn’t feel like her skin was a little too tight, or that the walls were closing in.

  When she’d turned eighteen and was no longer a part of the crowd, she was finally alone. Until alone wasn’t fun anymore. The lousy sum of a hundred dollars gifted to her when she left the home was gone, her stomach begged for food, and her body craved heat, that’s when her soul begged to be touched. It was a different kind of need. She didn’t want to be a part of a crowd, but she needed to be a part of something.

  That’s when she met Malcolm. His curly blonde hair and freckles caught her off guard. He wasn’t what she expected; polite, well mannered, and comfortable. Being around him made her feel like she wasn’t alone anymore, but she also wasn’t crowded either. Malcolm seemed to know she needed her space. He’d taken care not to get too close in the beginning. Took extra precautions to visit her outdoors, so as not to make her feel uncomfortable in her own space. A place she had come to love. Even in its current run-down state.

  A scream in the distance cut through the rain. Skylar shook her head clear of her memories and focused on the hunt, just the hunt.

  She moved from rooftop to rooftop, scanning the night between the buildings at ground level. Her vantage point allowed her to see a vast area at a time. Dragon eyes glowed purple and zoomed into where the voices were starting to come from. They weren’t regular voices. No, people didn’t speak like this. Hissing echoed in her ears. A low rumble pushing its prey into submission. Planting a seed into the minds of the unsuspecting victims. She closed her eyes and counted to ten. Then aimed her body, hand pointed out in front of her, and found her target.

  A blinding light erupted from her chest as she landed in a dark alley. Her body shifted, turning to a black mist; Dragon Mist. A great shadow of wings and talons. Scales and fire’s breath. She lifted her head, rearing backward and breathed in deep as she came to a stop in front of the man who held a woman by the neck. His hand pushed at the hem of her skirt. She screamed, thrashing under his touch. The man sneered. “Don’t worry, doll. I’m not gonna hurt you… much.” He pulled at the buttons of her coat. The woman’s umbrella discarded on the ground.

  Skylar breathed out. Her fire breath coated the man, but it wasn’t normal flame, it was colorless and odorless to the human world. To Skylar, it resembled the fumes of hard gasoline, emanating blue, purple and green hues.

  The umbrella spun on its axis. A silver mist erupted from the man, and Skylar stopped her attack. The woman looked at him for a moment, shock paralyzed her. Then fear that he’d resume his attack had her grabbing her bag from the ground and running towards the street, not once did she see Skylar. The man fell in a heap on the pavement. The white mist evaporated into the air.

  “Nice job, kiddo.” A Dark shadow fell over her, and the rain stopped. Skylar’s form returned, she shook the droplets from her upturned hair and smiled at Malcolm.

  “Thanks. Level one mist. He’s toast.”

  “Yeah, not much out tonight with the rain and all. Didn’t know you were hunting on this side of the city. Would have offered to keep you company.” He pushed his hands into the pockets of his duster and leaned against a dumpster. His work boots looked new, even for being out in the rain. His hair was slicked back, a new style he’d started since developing a like for James Dean. He looked at his watch and flipped his wrist to show off the dragon mark on the inside of his right wrist. It was light red, almost a rust color. The voices of the mists made it hum against his skin. Skylar’s was a bit smaller, the same color, but when she heard the voices it sang like a symphony performing for the mayor of the city, with majestic grace. When she fought a high-level mist, it was dance. A crescendo of energy that allowed her to move swiftly, and full of grace. Agile and stately moves of epic proportions. It was beautiful. On her feet, she was clumsy, mindless and taciturn. Malcolm changed all of that. He’d introduced her to the world she should have known of her entire life, but she always felt like there was a bigger piece of the puzzle just beyond her grip. Something he simply wasn’t ready to share with her yet.

  When Skylar was five her parents sold her for the money they needed to make their next score. A woman noticed her one night. She saw the state in which her parents were caring for her. Walking around New York City with a child in the middle of winter looking for blow. She’d had on a thin white undershirt and a diaper. Sitting in a stroller with a large blanket and crying so hard the tears wouldn’t come anymore, but the h
eaving sobs made her chest hurt. Her toes felt like ice blocks and her face, where the tears had frosted to her cheeks felt like they were cuts in her skin. Whoever that woman was in the real world didn’t matter to Skylar. To her, the woman was a savior. Even if she did drop her off at the orphanage without another word.

  The woman had offered up all the money she had in her purse, and her parents took it. They told the woman her name, Skylar Ryan, and ran to the closest abandoned building. That’s where all the dealers were. Pick an abandoned black-windowed house and score.

  Skylar found out when she was twelve, that the couple had taken advantage of one too many dealers and found themselves with extra holes in their heads. She’d seen their names in a newspaper the mistress of the orphanage was reading. When the woman yanked her away from the table and lifted her hand to swat at her, she yelled, “but those are my parents.” The woman got in one good smack to the face before she heard Skylar’s scream. The mistress assumed her tears were for the dead couple in the paper. Really, they were for the realization she was never getting out. Never breaking free of the woman and her horrid manners. Of course, she knew that before. She just didn’t let herself think about it. Until then. In that moment, she had nothing else to think about. Nothing else to tie her to the world.

  A cool breeze picked up, pulling a strand of hair free of Malcolm's head despite the gel. He feigned coolness. She could tell it was his act. His way of keeping people interested, but not too interested. Trying to be cool kept people from wanting to get too close. Skylar knew the mechanisms. She’d used them herself all her life. She was using one then too. The appearance of not being interested, when she was. She had her reasons for keeping people at arm’s length. Her parents being at the very bottom of the list. Malcolm had become a different type of issue for her.

  “So, we gonna go hunt, or do you wanna stay and make sure this one wakes up.” He kicked the man’s foot. If it weren’t for the rise and fall of his chest, he’d look like a corpse. As it was he resembled any other junkie on an overdose in a city alley. The only way he wouldn’t wake up is if he’d been possessed by a level four mist or higher.

  “Nah, we can go. He’ll wake, but he’s not gonna member his own name in the morning.” She moved to the edge of the building.

  Her favorite part was the takeoff. The release of gravity from around her body as it lifted into the air. Floating to the sky she looked up and let the wind sweep her hair from her face. She smiled, but it was gone before Malcolm made it to her side. With arms raised up and out, she spun on the breeze. The city smelled of rain in springtime, with a slight hint of gutter, and reduced to a light mist. A bit humorous for the job at hand. Since the demons they hunted, were mist.

  The night covered them. Bodies turned to black dragon mist. They rose and fell in unison, their bodies twisting in and out of the night. When the voices started to ramble, Malcolm shifted his course. He moved left, going south. Skylar moved right and dipped down into the city and changed forms. Her olive skin glowed under the incandescent lights over the freeway.

  She spotted the white mist, a demon searching for a host. From her vantage point, she could see it was a level four. The biggest she’d seen in the city in over a year. She shifted to black mist. The dragon rearing its head ready to strike. A bright blue light flickered to her side. She was too close to the mist to abandon her attack. The light struck her causing her to take her human form. She tucked and rolled, landing underneath the monster.

  It hovered over her. Almost starring at her, until it reared back its head and breathed out its white flame. Skylar’s arms flew in front of her face, blocking the liquid lava from striking her there. She could hear it laugh at her. Then a voice she knew spoke nearby.

  “I told you, if I had known you were gonna be around here tonight, things would have been better.” Malcolm walked toward her. His work boots splashing the puddles around him. He stomped up next to her and grabbed her by the arm. “Maybe you should consider who your friends are.” He sneered at her.

  What little bit of her heart that had mended, shattered as she considered his eyes. “I’ve never had any friends. Why should I start now?” She spat at his feet. She needed the wind so she could heal. She could get away, disappear where she wouldn't be found. She did not need to be an obstacle. Whatever he was doing, she wanted no part of it. Though she did wonder why Malcolm would choose the opposing side. What could he gain from working with demons?

  She rolled to her side. The white dragon moved away from her, and closer to Malcolm. He was welcoming it. Speaking low so only the evil thing could hear him. When she tried to stand, he pointed a finger at her. “Oh darlin, I’m not done with you. Don’t move.” He had the gall to ask her nicely.

  “I’ve never been one for following directions.” She reared her head back and breathed purple flames at the white dragon and Malcolm, alike.

  “How’d you do that? Dragons can’t breathe fire outside of mist form.” A look of shock spread across his face as he scrambled back away from the heat.

  “I told you once before, I don’t conform.” She was one with the wind once again, mist and flame. She rolled in the air, moving as mist in and out of herself. She was prepared to leave, and never return. Start fresh somewhere else, just as she’d always done.

  However, it was time to stop running.

  Skylar flew up into the night’s sky until the air grew thin, then looked back down to the ground. With her dragon eyes, she could zoom in on Malcolm and his new friend. A level five mist was the highest the Company had ever tagged. So, a level four wasn’t the worst, but it wasn’t the easiest either.

  Weighing her options, she took a breath and descended to the concrete bridge. The street lamp cast a bright light over Malcolm and the mist, making the demon almost impossible to see. So, Skylar went after Malcolm. She reared back, her black form streaked across the sky. When close enough she let her flames free over him. The gel in his hair fizzled and frizzed his curls. He stomped his feet and rushed into the air after her, but was too late. Her flames touched his skin and he screamed. Falling back to the street aflame, Malcolm began to roll around on the ground, but dragon flame was nothing like the red flames that seared everything to ash.

  The white mist held to the side of the bridge. It seemed unsure if it wanted to attack. Skylar left it to ponder. She dropped down to the ground, one boot then the other. “What’s the matter? Too hot for you?” Skylar hissed at Malcolm who still rolled around on the ground.

  He veered up at her, his flame green and yellow, but short of his mark. “Who are you?”

  “I’ve been asking myself that very same question my whole life. When you brought me to the Company, I thought I’d figured it out.”

  “We can still have it all, Sky. Join me.” He was panting then. The pain obviously too much for him.

  “It appears I’ve known one thing all along, people always disappoint me. Even the dragon people.” She spat at him.

  She let her flames lose on him again. Malcolm screamed. His body shifted between mist and human form.

  The white dragon mist made its decision as Malcolm started to die. It jumped into Skylar, sending her into shock. Her body convulsed and fell to the ground. Black and white fought until only one remained. In the end, Skylar shifted, she shimmered as a silver mist. When her flames erupted, Malcolm met his end, and Skylar discovered who she really was. The savior of both races, and forever alone.

  If only Malcolm had stayed gone. She knew he couldn’t have been. Their kind was infused with magic from the Fae prince. Through generations, the dragons of the Company were created. To carry on the legacy that was now hers. So, if they were tattooed as babies and given to the Company, why had she ended up on a street corner in the middle of winter at five years old?

  Warren, the head of the Company told her that her parents thought they were going to get reimbursement for their daughter. When he explained they were not, they took her from him. Away from the safety, she could have
had through her life instead of the confines of the orphanage. For that, she hated them more.

  If they had left her there, Skylar would have never had Opal. She would have never gotten the chance to know true kindness.

  “Hey, Sky. Where’s the fire?” A tall fidgety kid sauntered up to her inside the white walls of the Company. She thought his name was Zeek. A strange one. He wore swim goggles on his head, but couldn’t put them over his eyes because of the thick-framed lenses he needed to see.

  “I have to speak to Warren,” I said pushing past him.

  “Where’s Malcolm?” He looked at me and jumped up and down on the balls of his feet. He looked back to the open door and then back at me.

  “I need to tell Warren. First.”

  “What’s that?” A tall thin man moved from a nearby office. His suit was slate grey, hair silver, and except for the long-crooked nose he had no other identifiable characteristics that separated him from the rest of the Republic. Skylar found it was just as bad as the orphanage with its matching day and night outfits. All one color, and the same exact style. She’d made it perfectly clear she wouldn’t be dressing like them when she took the position with the Company. She was also happy to see the other top-level mists also dressed in their own way. That was probably the reason she never called Zeek out for his headwear.

  “Warren.” She gave him a quick bow. “Something has come of Malcolm. He’s gone.”

  “What do you mean, gone? How can he be gone?”

  She spoke rather quick. The man had taken her in, but he still made her uncomfortable, as all adults had. She’s never been particularly lucky in that department. Apart from the mistress’s sister, Celina who had taken it upon herself to protect her as much as she could from her older sister.

  “I couldn’t help it,” she spoke in between sobs. “Something has gone wrong with my powers. I feel like that mist reached into me, and I don’t know if he’s gone.”