“You coming tonight?” Nathan asked, in that innocently cheery way he always did.

Ted forced out a smile that committed to nothing. It didn’t get any easier, no matter how many times they asked. At least, not to answer the right way, the only way he ever could. “Not tonight. You guys go ahead.”

Nathan’s eyes narrowed. Even under the dim street lighting, his disbelief was obvious. “Come on, man. None of us even need to sneak in anymore!”

Tightness gnawed at Ted’s insides. Why wouldn’t Nathan let it go already?

Were they starting to realize? Surely some of them had worked it out. Ted didn’t wear dirt-cheap clothes that fell apart—replacing them frequently was a luxury he couldn’t afford—but he didn’t have their revolving designer wardrobe either. Nor the money to burn on booze, or the time to waste doing so.

The lie that it would be alright tugged at his chest. He bit his lip. Would it really be so bad if he called in sick and enjoyed himself for one evening? Hadn’t he earned a nice, relaxing drink or two, just this once?

He swallowed hard. Was this the same pull his mother felt? The one she could never quite break free from, leaving her oscillating between drowning and gasping for air?

No. No, he wouldn’t wallow in her misery, not when pulling free was within his grasp. Weakness was another luxury he couldn’t afford, not even for a second.

Not yet. Not until he’d made it.

If he stumbled, there wouldn’t be anyone to bail him out. Never had been, never would be. It was cleaner that way. No illusions.

Nathan shuffled closer. His voice dropped to a whisper. “You wouldn’t have to buy anything all night. We’d cover you, man.” His skittish glances over his shoulder at his impatient friends made it so much worse, as if Ted being broke was something to be ashamed of.

Ted shook his head. He’d earned his place off his own back. He didn’t need charity. “Don’t worry about it.”

Their eyes met for a fleeting moment before Nathan rubbed the back of his neck and looked away.

Did he even care? Maybe. Or maybe he just thought he did, one of those little lies that made everything a bit more tolerable. It wouldn’t matter in a few months, anyway.

Nathan threw up his arms in defeat. “Alright. But you should come sometime.”

“I will.” They both knew he didn’t mean it.

Nathan shuffled his feet and slunk away, hunched over like he wasn’t going to forget all about Ted five minutes—if that—into his night out.

Were they friends? A frown pulled at Ted’s brow. It would be easier if they weren’t. The next step in the plan was already lined up—a job on the West Coast, one that paid the kind of money that made his warehouse night shifts look like the peanuts that it was.

Even so, he couldn’t help but admire Nathan’s determination. Ted knew he wasn’t an easy man to spend time with, yet the guy kept trying. Maybe this was his version of a struggle. It wasn’t like he’d had to overcome anything real his entire life.

That crushing ball of tightness flared up in Ted’s chest again. Everything he’d worked so hard for they got handed on a silver platter. While they drank themselves silly, he’d be working his ass off. Eight hours on his feet, doing whatever the PDA strapped to his wrist told him. None of them would ever understand.

Whatever pays the bills.

Autopilot carried Ted through the back alleys, past rusted fire escapes and the same broken liquor bottles he saw every day. Nothing new here, there never was—not that anyone would want to see, anyway.

An icy chill bit at his face and ears. He picked up the pace and zipped up his leather jacket, glad the latest repair had held. Winter wasn’t quite done yet.

Shadows filled the grim, urban jungle. The street lamps, those that worked, barely illuminated even themselves. It was a rough neighborhood. The kind where a mugger could be in any of the ample shadows, ready and waiting to strike.

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Adrenaline coursed through Ted’s veins, crying out for someone to try it. Every flicker in the shadows was a promise, the possibility of something happening.

Did other people do that? He bit at his lip. A psychiatrist would probably have a field day with him. Not that he wanted one, or could afford one if he had. No, too busy working night and day to get a shot at what other people had handed to them and didn’t even have the decency to appreciate.

It was easy to be mad at his mother. But Dad? Ted growled and picked up the pace, his nails biting into his palms, wishing he had something, anything, to punch.

He checked his phone, its overly bright screen highlighting the hairline crack across the bottom as it screamed the time at him. It was fine. His teeth clenched together and he shoved the phone back into his pocket. Even with that heart-to-heart with Nathan, he still had time to make his shift.

What was that? His gaze shot up, darting after the rustle.

A brick wall, graffitied. Nothing else. Whatever had moved was gone, a shadow passing through the night.

Ted forced out a laugh. Maybe there was a mugger. Maybe this was it.

Maybe he should have gone for that drink after all.

Metal clattered behind him. He spun around, and the darkness fled in the corner of his vision again. There it was, the source of the commotion—a chain-link fence clattering in the wind.

Except there was no wind.

A chill raced through his body. His jaw clenched and he fell completely silent, still as the dead. This was serious. Every one of his senses fired into overdrive, delivering their reports with frantic haste.

A police siren wailing in the distance. The scent of urine splashed against the wall. The urban mess of discarded cigarette butts and water-logged cardboard. All those things he tried so hard to ignore, now reassuringly familiar.

But something had to have made that noise. Ted’s eyebrows drew into a frown. He couldn’t have imagined it. Could he?

Darkness flashed again, just inside his vision, and a chill ran down his spine.

No. He wasn’t going crazy.

He pressed his lips together and swallowed. For once in his life, that certainty was anything but reassuring. Whoever—or whatever—was out there, it was stealthy, and it was fast.

Why, oh why, hadn’t he hit the gym when he had the chance? A knot twisted in his chest. The cost-benefit analysis hadn’t worked out. Too much money, too much time, not enough benefit. At least, that’s what he’d thought.

He wasn’t out of shape, but he wasn’t in peak physical condition either. It didn’t matter—it was too late to do anything about that. All that mattered now was survival.

Adrenaline spiked through him, giving him a burst of speed as he dashed down the alleyway. He wasn’t going to end up shanked in some grim alley. He had plans, and that wasn’t it.

He stole a glance over his shoulder, and the shadow slithered across the edge of his vision, slinking away before his eyes could settle upon it. Calling it a shadow didn’t do it justice—it was a void that sucked the light right out of the surrounding air.

He shook his head. Light didn’t work that way—darkness was merely the absence of photons—but that didn’t change what he saw.

What the hell was chasing him?

His footsteps thundered against the concrete. Another glance over his shoulder. Nothing there. Had he lost it?

His lungs burned. Every muscle in his legs begged and screamed for him to stop.

Not yet. He had to be sure.

Whatever was chasing him sent icy stabs into his chest. Metaphorical stabs—and he planned to keep it that way.

Just a little further, he pleaded to his legs. He promised to take better care of his body in the future. He’d even reconsider joining the gym.

Assuming he had a future. It was a rough neighborhood, the kind where a mugging gone wrong wouldn’t even make the headlines. He didn’t need to imagine what his obituary might say.

A bit of a loner, his friend Nathan last saw him refusing to come out for a drink, just like the last 20 times he’d been asked. “If he’d come for a drink, just one drink, he’d still be alive.”

Even running for his life, Ted snorted. It would be an ironic death, at least.

Another glance over his shoulder. Still nothing there.

His heart screamed and threatened to explode. This would have to be enough.

He dived down a narrow street. The dim orange glow of the streetlights had never been such a welcome sight, even the one that flickered. Like the greeting of an old friend—not really wanted, but better than the alternative.

Another light flickered. And another, and another, and another. Every light down the entire street flickered, their reassurance turning to menace as they flashed faster and faster.

Their strobing light illuminated—or rather, didn’t—pockets of darkness, fleeting shadows growing in number. The hairs down Ted’s arms tingled, and a weight crushed down upon his chest.

Bent over, panting furiously, he tried to still his racing mind. What the hell had he done to deserve this?

The shadows swirled around him, completely surrounding him. He couldn’t hide from it, couldn’t outrun it. No, there was only one option left.

His fists balled up, and he dropped into a wide, stable stance, as if that would help against a physical impossibility. Suppressed rage surged to the surface, frantically searching for something to hit.

“Come and get me!”

The bellowed words died unceremoniously in the icy air.

As you wish. The thought forced its way into his head, fully formed and not his own.

Ted’s eyes bulged and his jaw fell open, but it was too late to say anything. The ring of darkness collapsed and blackness beyond black consumed him.

Another sentence pushed its way to the forefront of his mind. It was warmer than the previous intrusion, more internal, almost like seeing for the first time.

Quest received: Save your father, save the world.