Book 1 Epilogue 3

Three weeks after the incident at the Albidian facility...

A calming melody drifted through the air of the palace, disturbed only by the soft sounds of falling water. The scent of incense wafted through the room from a half-dozen fixtures, all burning eternally.

Himiko Nakamura sat and surveyed the man standing below her, at the foot of one of the three waterfalls in front of her throne. One of her better scouts, more talented spies, and one of the few people Himiko could count on to accomplish a job over long distances. His name was Jino, and he had been working with Himiko for several decades now, since she had annexed his former mercenary organization during her initial conquest of the southern edges of Washington state. As far as anything else about the man, she knew nothing and cared for less.

"Your Majesty, I have returned with... less than ideal news," the man spoke gravely, keeping his head low. Himiko did not have a particular reputation for reacting poorly to bad news – one of the few benefits of her... condition. Something must have troubled the man greatly.

"Do not keep me waiting," Himiko said idly, sitting almost as still as a statue as she awaited the man's report.

"I have been monitoring the situation in Springfield as you requested, and as I mentioned in my correspondence, the situation there has escalated... and very rapidly. The Albidians made a play faster than we anticipated, and were able to capture some of John Newman's creations. Our infiltrator within the Order is not entirely certain of the details of how this happened; apparently the Albidians managed to capture the Warden, and traded her for something known as a "Portal Stone". Other than the obvious implications though, the secrets of exactly what this does remains unknown to us."

The man paused as if expecting a response, but Himiko gave none – physical or verbal. She might have suddenly become a statue and the man would have been none the wiser. For his part, he showed no signs of overt surprise at this, and continued on when no response was given.

"All that we know is that shortly after they obtained it, they kidnapped three of John Newman's creations in an effort to draw him to one of their facilities. They succeeded in drawing him in, but failed to contain him. Unfortunately, that's where our intel ends. Our member within the Order told us that during the debriefing they learned a rumor from a more senior member that John had survived... but one of his creations had not, and he did not return with the Order. Neither he nor any of his creations have been seen in Springfield since then. We hired a local mercenary specializing in aura tracking, but they were unable to locate his aura signature in or around any of his usual spots, or the Abyssal Market he has been spotted in before."

"How long did you pay them to search?" Himiko asked quietly.

"Two weeks, Your Majesty. We called them in almost immediately after he did not return with the Order. There are rumors that Moira Brighton may know where he is, but-"

"Escort three of our most powerful Sensors out to Springfield. Maintain cover but investigate his known homes, the Order's Manor, and the abandoned Albidian facility."

"Yes, Your Majesty. How long shall I order them to search for?"

"Until he returns," Himiko said simply.

"Your Majesty..." the man said, somewhat hesitantly.

"They are to search until John Newman is found, or until I recall them, and not a moment less. I will not tolerate failure or abandonment."

"...Yes, Your Majesty," the man said, bowing low as he sat, still and silent.

"You may leave now. I expect you to depart no later than sunset tomorrow."

"Yes, Your Majesty," the man repeated, this time standing and offering one last bow before turning and leaving the room as quickly as possible.

Himiko didn't bother to watch him leave. She knew what he thought she was asking – he assumed John Newman was dead or gone, and that searching around the Springfield area was a dangerous waste of time. John was very likely gone, but she knew he would be back. His connections to the Order were too strong, and his ties to his family even more so. She had long ago learned about Brenda Newman and his family situation, as well as his visits to the Moon Clan. She was grateful for them – ties to one particular area meant she could station a light scouting **** with Jino and not worry about tracking John across state lines.

As for ****... Himiko was not concerned about that. She would know in her heart if something had befallen John. That much she was certain of. Himiko idly ran her own fingers across her face, where she had held John's hand to her cheek over a month ago now. Yes, she would know if he had fallen in that battle, or if he had died in the intervening time.

That pain would be the first thing she truly felt since John's fingers touched her skin.

One Month after the incident at the Albidian facility...

Layla toyed idly with the chicken alfredo pasta in front of her, unable to bring herself to muster much of an appetite. On her mind were many things – including all the events of the last month, and the uncomfortable conversation she knew she was about to have with Tessa. More than anything, though, she had recently found a dreadful fascination with considering her likeness to a struggling **** addict. Her life had become a monotonous drone of cravings that she had no ability to fulfill, punctuated by brief, euphoric highs of her ****, her purpose, her meaning in life. She had noticed the similarities after the second week following John's departure.

And by now, she was quite certain that Tessa had noticed it as well. As if Layla’s unexplained absences and abrupt departures weren’t frustrating enough for the poor woman.

"Bar'ly touchin' ya food, Lay," Tessa noted, her voice low and hesitant.

"I'm going to be leaving soon," Layla said. The moment the words left her mouth, a sigh escaped from between Tessa's lips, so Layla did her best to continue as if she'd never paused at all. "Tonight, actually. Just for three days this time – I have to-"

"When are you gonna tell me what's really goin' on, Lay?" Tessa asked, shaking her head and looking at Layla with eyes nearly wet with tears.

"I'm being honest with you, Tessa," Layla said, nearly pleading. "My friend needs help, he's-"

"He's needed a lot of help, and you have told me a lot of nothin'," Tessa said, shaking her head. "You haven't been you for almost two months, Lay-Lay. Missin' date nights, comin' home late, always runnin' off at a moment's notice... I tried to ignore it at first, then I tried to rationalize it, but... there's someone else, isn't there? This guy, he's trying to steal you from me?"

"God, no!"

"God, I wish."

Layla's face did not betray her more honest inner thoughts, but Tessa didn't seem to believe her regardless. Tessa sighed and threw her fork onto her plate, sliding her chair back almost immediately.

"I'll preten' that I believe you, because I never thought that you were that kinna person... but I don't know how much longer I can keep lyin' to myself, Lay. No matter... no matter how much I love you. You're gonna have to make a decision real soon... and I'm scared of what it's gonna be. This has to stop, or things are gonna get real ugly, real quick, ya hear?"

Tessa made her way out of the kitchen in a hurry, and Layla heard her stomping up the stairs toward the bedroom. Layla sighed, knowing there was nothing she could do to fix this. Because she didn't want it to stop. She pulled out her phone the moment she heard the bedroom door slammed, and rushed a reply to the mid-dinner text she had received.

"I'll be outside the Dairy Queen on 13th and Crawford in ten minutes. Pick me up there, John."_

How could she want this to stop? Layla had sat around her house in a stupor, dodging around or half-lying to every question Tessa asked her, until she either got tired of asking Layla questions or got tired of hearing her answers. It hadn't been until almost a week later she got the first text message from John, and though it had been from a new number she didn't recognize, a few pictures verified it was indeed her obsession that had messaged her.

She'd helped escort him to an old, abandoned jail one state over, and been told to wait outside... not that she had listened, of course, but John never found out about how she'd followed him inside. How she watched him **** and slaughter his way through the dregs left of the Albidians inside. Well, she assumed they were Albidians; they didn't exactly wear matching uniforms, but their base and his fury told her all that she needed to know.

She had seen bloodshed in the Abyss – it was a natural part of life and **** in magical society. But she had never seen it like this. Such fury, such passion, such power, such raw... unabided aura. Layla had been quite fortunate that one of the Albidians had assaulted John with a sonic wave that must have damaged his hearing temporarily... if he hadn't been temporarily deafened, there was no way he would have been able to miss her muffled cries as she brought herself to a climax while concealing herself in one of the nearby storage rooms to avoid his gaze.

She could no longer help herself. If she was only going to be given doses of John in bursts like this, never knowing when he might next need her, she was going to make the most of every one of them, no matter the risks to herself. She needed her fix of John Newman, because that's what he had become to her now. Risks meant nothing. Her old life, it meant nothing when those texts came in.