SAVE POINT 9

Sparo

I watched Rosabella sleep, and I wondered what it would be like to lean down and kiss her forehead. Would her skin be soft, and I'd catch a whiff of shampoo? Would her eyes flutter dreamily open? Someday. Just, unfortunately, not right now. Right now, she thought of me as a friend. Right now, I was Rosabella’s rock during these hard times. And, although sometimes, I thought it just might be shifting to something else in her eyes, I couldn't chance being premature in that movement. She meant too much to me. So, I resisted the urge to hold her tighter—to snuggle into her. And I used a gentle nudge to wake her.

And not my lips. Even though that yearning deep within me purred like a full-grown cat, stretching my heart wider.

Churches always seemed so empty to me without their congregations: empty, shadowed corners and hollow halls. This one was no exception. The gothic architecture swept overhead in jagged points and columns. The stone walls and floor gave the place an even chillier feel as the wood back of the long pew created an unmovable dent in my back from having leaned against it all night.

The others were waking now; Dormouse rubbed at his eyes from his lounged position with legs spread out on a pew, and Mimi cracked her neck from the next one over, her thin legs thrown over the side.

Rosabella blinked up at me, confused for a minute and, then, putting back together all the pieces of the puzzle that shouldn't fit but did. The tracker was out of the nerd—thank God. If I’d had to listen to him moaning from the hallway for another hour, I was liable to make an incredibly rude comment which would have them all hating me. But, in any case, whatever tracker might have been in the kid's intestines was now in the church plumbing somewhere, and we were free to find this Goran son of a bitch. I felt Rosabella shift away from me, leaning forward to stretch and wipe the sleep out of her eyes. I took a deep, but regrettably shaky, breath as I considered the task ahead.

It was time to face the Witch-bitch.

Honestly, the thought of seeing Prickgada again right now scared the shit out of me. Maybe it was the fact that—yes—I’d stolen from her; I wasn’t, by any means, pretending to be the good guy here. Or, maybe, it was just the fact that I'd really hoped I was done with her.

Forever.

Turning over a new leaf.

A blank page.

…Maybe a page with Rosabella’s name on it—more adventure and care with less...drama.

Too bad apparently drama liked to find me...

"You guys ready to roll?" I called to our band of merry men.

Dormouse squinted at me, "You know where we're going—where Prickgada’s lair thing is?"

I blew a raspberry, making a big show of confidence, "Of course, I know where it is!"

[Loading…2 Hours Later…100%]

We were lost. We were so very lost. My dragon ego still wasn't quite ready to admit it to the group yet, but I hadn't felt this uncertain in a long time.

Uncertain and lost. Did I mention that?

On another crowded NYC street. Grand Dragon, all these buildings were starting to look the same. How high was I when I'd been here last—how love-drunk all those years ago when Prickgada and I had been a thing and she'd wanted to show me what she called her 'million-dollar-side hustle'? …Damn it, I hated that woman.

"Uh, Sparo, haven't we been on this street before?" Dormouse crowed.

Ugh, I hated nerds too.

Damnit, I hated everyone and everyTHING right now. I clenched my fists, feeling aggravation coil in me like a pissed-off viper.

I was going to have to tell them I was lost. I was just going to have to fess up and admit that I'd been walking in determined circles for the last twenty minutes.

"If you tell us what you're looking for," Rosabella tried, "We can help." Her eyes were kind and beseeching, but I didn't want anyone's help. I wanted to find Prickgada's place and have a win before I got my head and balls completely torn off by the damned woman.

There! Something caught in the corner of my eye. A sign!

…Not metaphorically. Literally.

That was the sign, I was sure of it! Faded and hanging by one chain instead of the two it needed, the rectangular piece of metal clattered loudly against the brick exterior of a row home with shop windows at the base. On the sign was a painting of an open, purple hand with a spiral on the palm.

'Psychic, Second Floor'

It read in block font.

"It's here!" I called, excitedly, gesturing the group forward. I’d done it! I’d found Prickgada's lair! If I remembered correctly, there was a set of stairs just around—

I rounded the corner, and there they were, a set of worn, concrete steps, darkened by the shadow of an overhang over the stoop. The roof there was cracking and overgrown with moss where gaps showed through, and the brick was darker than at the sun-faded front.

"Upward and through the creepy, peeling door we go," Dormouse said, shrugging and nodding to a wood door that looked like it'd been painted more times than one could count.

And shade fell over our uncertain faces as we began the climb upward.

My stomach twisted as I reached the top. I turned the tarnished handle which was nearly falling off. I pushed open the door, hearing it give with a pop. And, as the door swung open, I recognized the place. A brick hallway opened to a pretty good size loft with sunlight streaming in from large, gridded windows. The room had an industrial feel and was similarly sparse with white, undecorated walls and an original, wood floor which was stripped and worn in patches. But my eyes were already sweeping the premises and, unfortunately, they landed—

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

On Prickgada.

On the willowy woman who slipped through one of the two, closed, back doors, folding a bathrobe over her breasts and tugging it tight around her with the furry cord. Curls of her unmanageable, dark hair spilled over the collar as her vibrant, green eyes flashed up with alarm to my face.

And, then, we were there. In a deadlock stare. With her face hardening into granite. …Guess not much had changed in the last day...

And her eyes swept over our group too, catching especially on Rosabella.

"What, your magical powers didn't tell you we were coming?" I blurted crassly. I didn't know why I was being such an asshole... actually I did know why but—

"You're not welcome here. I'm very busy," the woman tittered, attempting to wave us off, "I have two clients—"

"Three guesses who one of them is," I interrupted. I meant Goran, of course. There was no question that, if he came to her, she'd help him. She was a snake and could be bought for any price—

"Actually," the woman countered pointedly, "I'm entertaining a Charmus Tsung, a Nomad and your pink-haired friend who most certainly needs medical attention, so if you wouldn't mind—"

She threw open the door on her left, revealing Joy, Rainer and a huge, green dragon flapping its wings impatiently outside the window. The Charmus Tsung must be using an Invisibility Shield so the humans on the below, busy street didn't see it. Smart. Not going to lie, jealously washed over me for a sec—those Invisibility Shields were costly to come by, and I didn’t have one in my horde yet. Maybe the dragon’d be willing to share…?

But my lips settled into a grim line, growing grimmer as I turned my gaze back towards the Witch. I was only able to trust Prickgada as far as I could throw her, and I wasn’t very willing to throw her anywhere at this point. The question, now that door #1 was open, was what was behind door #2?

"Open the other door, Prickgada," I growled dryly.

And she clutched at her robe and did a whole song and dance of brushing her hair back from her face like she always did when she was about to lie…and that was when I knew I was right. Goran was behind that fucking door.

I lunged forward, but Prickgada held up a warning hand—what, was she going to pull some freaking magic on me or something, here in the Earth dimension? We’d dated. I knew how she flung lies around like nothing. I knew everything about her. So, I went the voice-of-reason route. I tried to give her a chance to make this right.

"You do know he's trying to destroy The Game right?" I told her—yelled at her? Damn, if I could control my rage just a little better—"What did Goran promise you, huh? When The Game goes caput, so do we...unless you have the Immortality Cheat Code—"

The woman's expression wavered—wobbled—giving it away. No. No, fucking way—

"Oh my Grand Dragon," I whispered in utter terror and—despite my best intentions—admiration, "She has the Cheat Code. That bastard Goran probably has it too. What would make her give it to him?!"

The shock of the discovery slowed my reaction, but I heard metal slide on metal—a sword drawing? My eyes darted up to see a blade glinting in the blinding sun and a very pissed-off pink-haired girl behind it, holding the edge of her katana to the Sorceress's throat.

"Open the damn door, bitch," Joy snarled, clearly not afraid to draw blood at this point.

Okay. I never thought I'd say I like the girl but...

Prickgada gasped against the sharp blade. And reached for the doorknob, throwing it inward—

There he was.

Goran.

The Escaped Prisoner who’d destroyed my career... The one who’d broken Rosabella’s heart probably over 50 times…

Standing with hands outstretched and palms out on either side of him against the backdrop of a slept-in mattress and a brick wall. His eyes were a milky white, and his form, statue still. …And something wasn’t fucking right in the state of Denmark.

Dormouse stepped through our crowd, his brow furrowing deeply before he turned to Prickgada with an incredulous stare. "You sent him in the Coding?!" he balked.

This looked so bad. Why did the kid look like this was really bad? My eyes flashed to Rosabella. I watched her mind attempting to take all this in at once too. Then, my eyes were back on the Witch—the Witch who had seemingly made things go from bad to worse.

"What is wrong with you?!" I cried, finally lunging forward and into her face which was still tilted upwards uncomfortably from Joy's blade against the tender, white skin there, "You helped him?"

"Is it so bad that I should want a man to hang around? To dote on me?" the hag shot back, her eyes brimming fire and stubbornness like they always had.

"Trust me, woman; he's not the type." I lectured, turning away and throwing my hands down in disgust. Was she serious? She really thought Goran was the type to stick around?!

"Sparo, I—I think he slept here," Rosabella mumbled, and I turned to see the corner of balled up bedsheets slipping through the ends of her fingers. And, sure enough, the mattress on the floor was slept in. And it looked like two slept there—she wouldn't. Nope, I was wrong she so would. Prickgada’d slept with the asshole?! Oh my Grand Dragon, she'd SLEPT with Goran!

"I showed him the path to the kill switch for The Game!" the woman hooted smugly, "All of you and your silly world of politics and power will evaporate into nothingness. You'll never catch him now!" There was something manic about the gleam in her eyes.

"Oh really?" I snapped, "watch her."

Rosabella could do anything; the girl was liquid dynamite. …Still, admittedly, my stomach was a little queasy at the Witch’s words. Was what she was saying true? Would we be able to catch Goran in The Game Coding, now that we finally knew where he was?

"Rosabella, you have to go under—into the Code—with Goran to see if you can stop him. NOW," Dormouse warned. His face looked more urgent than I'd ever seen it as he pushed a sweaty string of dark hair out of his eyes.

The girl nodded and moved towards him. Her lips were drawn in a tight line, “Show me what to do.”

And I stepped forward too, protectiveness welling up in my chest, "I'm going with her—"

"You can't," the nerd explained shortly. His fingers were already typing rapidly on the laptop he balanced in the air, "It's a one person enter and there has to be someone to code the entrance and exit from the outside. It's why Goran needed Prickgada—" I couldn’t go with her? Fuck this. Fuck The Game Code—

"But you can do it, Dormouse?" Rosabella asked, her eyes determined just like I loved them, "You can get me in?"

The geek nodded curtly, "Yes. The main thing to remember is to avoid the interwebs, they'll sting your skin, and the bugs in the software are killer—"

"You don't mean literally...right?" I watched Rosabella swallow hard; it made nervous butterflies dance in my stomach.

The kid's forehead wrinkled with the grimmest lines, "Unfortunately, yes. Find Goran, and I'll patch you a loophole out. Go now!" At Dormouse's frantic key taps, a huge, black hole appeared in the room—swirling, folding in over itself with a grotesque, squelching noise.

Rosabella had to go in there...alone? My mouth was so dry—

"You guys are wrong about Goran," the Witch hissed. I could kill her. This all wouldn’t have happened if she could act like a normal, sane individual for once. Rosabella would be safe. Goran would be captured. The Game would be okay. I, suddenly, wanted nothing more than to put my hands around the woman’s neck and squeeze.

"Would you shut up?!" I blew up at her, ready to deck the woman in the fucking face. She was a no-good, lying, cheating whore who’d never even—

But Rosabella’s huge eyes and calming hand on my arm brought me back down to Earth—literally; she stopped the rage inside me. "It's okay, Sparo," she whispered, "I've got this."

Except my stomach clenched tight and wouldn't release. Because I wanted to believe her, I really did. ...But I'd never been more scared for anyone in my entire life.