“You coming tonight?”

Jake flashed his fellow senior a smile, perfectly crafted to commit to nothing. No matter how many times they asked, it didn’t get any easier to answer. At least, not the right way, the only way he ever could. “Not tonight. You guys go ahead.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. Even under the dim street lighting, his disbelief was obvious. Why wouldn’t he let it go already?

“Come on, man. We’re all twenty-one now. We don’t even need to sneak in.”

Were they starting to realize? Surely some of them had worked it out. Jake didn’t wear dirt-cheap clothes that fell apart—replacing clothes regularly was a luxury—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. 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.

Tony 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 at his friends made it worse, as if Jake being broke was something to be ashamed of. Jake had earned his place off his own back.

He shook his head. He didn’t need charity. “Don’t worry about it.”

Their eyes met. Tony rubbed the back of his neck and looked away. Did he even care? Maybe, or at least he thought he did. It wouldn’t matter in a few months, anyway.

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

“I will.”

They both knew he didn’t mean it. Tony shuffled his feet and slunk away, hunched over like he wasn’t going to forget all about Jake five minutes, if that, into his night out.

Were they friends? It was hard to tell. It would be easier if they weren’t. The next step in the plan was already lined up—a job on the West Coast, paying the kind of money that made his warehouse night shift look like the peanuts that, frankly, it was.

Even so, Tony’s determination was admirable. Jake wasn’t an easy man to spend time with, but the man kept trying. Maybe this was his version of a struggle; it wasn’t like he’d had to overcome anything real his entire life.

Jake’s chest tightened. Everything he 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 him through the back alleys, past rusted fire escapes and the same broken liquor bottles he saw every day. Nothing new to see, there never was—not that anyone would want to see, anyway.

Icy air 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 have been in any of the shadows, ready and waiting to strike.

Adrenaline coursed through his 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 his lip. A psychiatrist would probably have a field day with him. Not that he wanted one, or could afford one if he did. 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? He growled and picked up the pace, his nails biting into his palms. If only he had something to punch.

It was hard to be mad at a man for disappearing.

Jake checked his watch. It was fine. Even with the heart-to-heart with Tony, he still had plenty of time to make his shift.

What was that? A brick wall, graffitied. Whatever had moved was gone, a shadow passing through the night. He 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. Darkness fled in the corner of his vision again. There, 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. 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.

The distant wail of a police siren. 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 were now reassuringly familiar.

Something had to have made that noise. Jake’s eyebrows drew together into a frown. He couldn’t have imagined it. Could he?

Darkness flashed again, just inside his vision. 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? The knot in his chest twisted. The cost-benefit analysis hadn’t worked out. Too much money, too much time, not enough benefit. He’d never seen this coming.

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

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

He stole a glance over his shoulder. 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 sucked the light right out of the surrounding air.

He shook his head. Light didn’t work that way—darkness being 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 he’d take better care of his body in the future. He’d even reconsider joining the gym.

Assuming he made it out alive. 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 Tony last saw him refusing to come out for a drink, just like the last 20 times he’d asked. “If he’d come for a drink, just one drink, he’d still be alive.”

Even running for his life, Jake snorted. It would be an ironic death, at least. Another glance over his shoulder. Still nothing there. His heart 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, did not illuminate—pockets of darkness, fleeting shadows growing in number. The hairs down his arms tingled, and a weight crushed down upon his chest.

Bent over, panting furiously, Jake clenched his eyes shut. What had he done to deserve this? He couldn’t hide, couldn’t outrun it. That left only one option.

The shadows swirled around him. He was completely surrounded, no way he could cover every angle. He set his feet wide, as if that would help against a physical impossibility.

His fists balled up. Suppressed rage surged to the surface, frantically surging 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.

His 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.