On Saturday, Seth awoke at three in the morning. His eyes were wide open, not a trace of sleep in them—he felt like he might be getting used to the horrid sleep patterns. He looked from his ceiling over to the wireless charger and grabbed his phone off of it, scrolling through his texts. Not many. His eyes fell to the one from the number he refused to put into his phone. What the hell? He clicked on the Youtube link sent by David or Anthony.

This video has been removed by owner.

Right. They didn’t keep their stuff up for long. He looked at the text underneath it.

Invictus, watch it and let us know.

Invictus? They must have been in the middle of a Roman history block. Seth began tapping out a response.

Leave your videos up for longer than 24 hours, assholes. Send.

His phone buzzed not even twenty seconds later. Can’t let the pigs catch us. -A

Seth pressed his lips together. You still owe me 250.

Haven’t touched your winnings. When you want it.

Monday.

You still want that one grand?

Seth thought long and hard. He needed an outlet. The rapidly healing patch of missing skin on his elbow was enough to confirm CFA didn’t cut it for quelling the demon within anymore. Not now that Seth’s subconscious knew there was bigger and better violence out there, and had developed an appetite for it. Yes.

Can you fight tonight?

Yes.

Main card. We had a drop-out. You’re in. Olson lake-house at 9. You fight at midnight. I assume you know the address.

Oh, hell no. Seth swallowed. They wanted him to go to the place he had just fled from. What if those people were still there? He started typing out a ‘no’, but a thought entered his head. He’d already said yes, and if he knew David and Anthony, about ten other people already knew. He couldn’t back out just because it was the Olson’s lake-house. With the rumors Madeline was spreading about him, that would only cement in everyone’s head he was the cheating bastard she said he was. He set his phone down and tugged at the roots of his hair. Why did he have to care about what people thought?

“Because it didn’t happen like that,” he growled, screwing his eyes shut and tensing his body. A strange paraphysical pain in the back of his head hit him, along with the flood of stress from Madeline’s lies. He didn’t care about any kind of revenge against her, why did she have to do this? What reason could she have? The void began to swirl within him, draining all the emotion out of his skull and into his center, balling it up. Compacting it. Making it more powerful—and more dangerous.

Seth sat up and swung his bare legs over the edge of the bed. “I have to deal with this,” he muttered. He couldn’t just keep letting this void inside him suck up all his emotions to supernova at a later time. Well, he could. If he planned the supernovas. Tonight would be one such occasion. Seth took his phone and tapped out a text to his more fortunately sleeping best friend.

Olson lake-house. I’m fighting tonight.

Seth detached his metal augment, noting a bit of blood on it he needed to clean later, and hopped to the closet door, opening it for the two augments to swap places under the direction of his will. It still felt strange, like a glove he could slip his mind into. He couldn’t feel the augment that was off him unless he wanted to, but the moment he did, his consciousness snapped to it and Seth gained the unusual perception of having three legs.

The fleshy tendrils of the flesh augment flailed in the air, and Seth set his stump above them. They assimilated his leg with a slight tingling sensation and Seth was whole again. The metal augment hid itself obediently in the corner and Seth closed the door before turning to the one that closed off his room. Saturday. That meant he shared the house with his dad. He wanted to avoid that, but if he knew Andrew, his best friend was sleeping until at least twelve hours from now. Either that or he was at wrestling practice. Probably the latter, with the season so close to starting. He looked forward to taunting Andrew with unhealthy food during his weight cuts, as their tradition had gone since freshman year.

Seth sat down at his laptop again, opening the web browser right up to The Forecast. A new article had been posted about an hour ago.

Ley Flare Crisscrosses Western Seaboard, Fey Activity Increasing?

The article made no mention of how the author knew anything, but it went on to say that all the ley lines west of the Rockies had experienced a sudden surge last night, ‘measured at about 32Hz CS’. It then went on to share a few photos—all blurrier than the famous photo of Bigfoot—of what it claimed were fey, or fairies. The article concluded the surge was a random happenstance, and that fey activity continued to be stable since the early 2000s.

Seth finished the article and then clicked on the search bar to the right of the page.

Regeneration.

The search returned a fair number of posts, the first of which was titled Undead and Adjacent Regenerative Capabilities and Extrapersonal Powers.

Seth was pretty sure he wasn’t undead. Ben would have told him, wouldn’t he? If he was able to know Nicole was, he’d be able to know if Seth was. Seth typed in another query.

Half-breeds.

First article: Magical Race Inter-breeding in Humanity Since 1920.

Seth clicked on and widened his eyes as the scroll bar on the right of the page shrunk to a tiny sliver. This article was massive. Book-size, maybe. Seth bookmarked it and scrolled all the way to the bottom, an entry dated this year.

2019. Missouri Para-human.

The article contained a picture of a cordoned-off crime scene, a house in some rich suburb surrounded by police cars.

The most recent known half-breed was found dead in Missouri. Proper autopsy was impossible before the body was claimed by local police, but files from police autopsy reveal a missing heart. Likely conclusion: none. Too many species’ hearts are magical components.

Seth knew about Missouri. Nicole claimed Hunter-33 had killed the kid, but he had a very strong feeling that wasn’t the case. Seth closed his laptop. He wondered who exactly ran this website and had so much knowledge of everything that was going on, had so much ability to connect the dots. He thought about trying to reach out to him, but somehow he felt like that went against Olivia’s direction to lay low. This was a person from the real world, whoever it was.

Seth rubbed his eyes. He needed to get out of the house, but he didn’t just want to wander the city alone. He didn’t want to spend more time by himself with his thoughts and that swirling void. Seth started texting Jessica as he left his room.

You up?

Seth looked up from his phone as he entered the kitchen to see his dad there, back to him as he made coffee. He was already wearing jeans and a dress shirt. “Good morning, son.”

“Morning.

“Trouble sleeping?”

“Yeah.” Seth put his back to the wall and stared at his phone, hoping Jessica would text him soon.

“I’m sorry.”

Seth looked over. His dad was still measuring out the beans for the grinder. That sorry took Seth by surprise. “Happens.”

“You doing alright?”

“Yup.”

His dad pressed down and the whir of the grinder filled the air for a minute as it minced the beans into a fine powder. Seth’s phone buzzed.

Now I am. What’s up?

Want to hang out?

“I know we’re not supposed to talk about it. But I’m here if you need me.”

Like he’d been there so much, especially when Seth messed up. Overprotection and hemming-in were not what Seth needed. He gritted his teeth. “Thanks.”

His dad placed a filter in the coffee pot, then carefully poured the beans in, adding a small pinch of salt on the top as a true connoisseur of the bean did, then pressed the start button. He stayed with his back turned to Seth.

Sure. Coffee?

I’ll meet you at Starbucks near your house.

Kk.

“I’m going to train.”

“CFA doesn’t open this early.”

“Getting a run in. Bye.” Seth snatched his keys and rounded back around the corner, out of the house in a matter of seconds. His sock-covered feet slapped against the cement and he threw his head back. “Why.” He growled, heading back in to grab his shoes.

His dad stood at the top of the stairs, coffee mug in hand. “Son?”

“Yeah?” Asked Seth as he tied his Converse.

“Be safe.”

Seth looked up at his dad. “I’ll try.” He left the house again, careful to not let his simmering anger manifest in a slammed door. He didn’t need a fight with his dad, not in this state, and definitely not this early in the morning. He needed a distraction, and as he pulled away in his Subaru, Seth got it. He felt again the goosebumps on the back of his neck. Someone still watched him.