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   Chapter 5 v. Lose This Miracle

New London Masquerade By Rian Torr Characters: 6043

Updated: 2018-10-21 12:03

Young Devin pedalled as if possessed--cutting through catwalks—gliding across intersections—hopping over medians.

The drizzle intensified into whipping torrents.

By the time he arrived, he was slick and shiny.

The neon Masquerades sign blazed triumphantly through the heavy rolling fog, as if fuelled by the rising storm and dark of night.

He keyed the lock. The door swung in, already open.

Four excited voices drifted out from inside the store.

"Barb—are you serious? Isn't that a bit risque for you?"

"Nah--I've always wanted to be an Amazonian Goddess."

"Well if you're going to go all butch on me—I'm going to go undead, " Sadie said—beginning to bind her head in mummy wrappings.

"Sadie! That is a far cry from the cover of Izabela Glam."

"It'll be nice to be out of the spotlight for just one night."

"This place gives me the creeps, " Blake broke in—unsettled.

"Relax pussy, " Seth interjected. "You'd let Dev outdo you?"

"Pssshhh—please ..." he said. "Oh shit--this is so def bomb."

"What? You going to go as a zombie now?" Barb said.

"That is not a very hard stretch, " Sadie said. "I mean really."

"Get off, " Seth mocked Blake. "If you do—I'll be the lizard."

"You two are as crazy as us. Shh—Dev's here--be nice to him."

Dev stepped down the wig and mask aisle—past the quartet.

"Drake dude, " Blake blurted. "It's about time you arrived."

Dev set his wet bag on the cash-counter and skinned his jacket.

"Your old man let us in, " Barb said. "Then he went upstairs."

"He's not my old man ... Nevermind. Find anything yet?"

"We've already got everything all picked out, " Blake replied.

"No problem guys—just bring them back in one piece okay?"

"Hey—what do you think we are—a bunch of jerk-off's?"

"What Blake means is, we appreciate this, " Barb offered.

Dev smirked. "No worries, Seth helped me out yesterday."

Barb cornered Dev by the register—looking into his eyes.

"I think I like him, Dev. Has he said anything about me?"

"Seth?" Dev said—holding back a sigh. "Sure Barb."

"What are you going as Dev?" Sadie asked, breaking in.

Sadie liked Seth too—but only for clique, to copycat Barb.

"I don't think I'm going to Skull Ball this year. Gotta work."

"Awww---nooo waaay ... You can't work on Halloween!"

"Well—it is a costume shop. I kind of have to be here."

"But can't anybody let you take a break—get off early?"

"It's just Gavin and I run the place. Forget it—I'm fine."

"It's not fine, Dev ... We had a deal: you were coming too."

"What's this?" Seth crashed the convo. "Dev's ditching us?"

Seth was already in get-up: a Dragun from ancient lore.

"Dev--dude ... You're coming ..." he said. "That is a fact."

"No I'm just not ... Sorry man, I have homework to do too."

"Ba-ha-ha-ha-haaa!!!" Blake bellowed—bumping into him.

"Look, Dev, " Seth said. "This Wulf suit could become you!" He pulled down a werewolf costume off the wall. Like the

Dragun--the Wulf came right out of old New London legend. Packs of dogmen were said to have stalked the night in New London—flesh-feeding on full moons.

"Dev ... Please ...?" Sadie pouted. "Tomorrow is Saturday."

"I know ... But if I don't do it right away then I fall behind." "Listen, Dev, " Sadie said—narrowing the gap between them—so close that he could feel her breath on his cheek. "I want you to come."

Seth scrunched his face up quizzical—but then shrugged it off.

"Come on, Sadie—he's a lost cause, " Barb implored, pulling.

Sadie would not budge for another long electric moment.

Dev's heart nearly stopped, when she would not look away.

He could only keep his eyes wide—lest he lose this miracle.

"You're coming, " she said, nodding slowly at him. "You have no choice about it really—now that you understand what I mean."

"Fine, " he spat back, totally incapable of being cool.

She leaned to his ear--whispering: "You'll be the Wulf."

She turned and left with Barb and Seth and Blake in tow.

"We will see you in four hours Dev! You're driving!"

Meanwhile, in his den above, Gavin felt the tempting dark pulse of the Orbring within his pouch—and he meditated close-eyed over the souls of Guy and Ash—his grandchildren who had crashed and died that night one year ago—Devin's folk who had been flying home. He wished he could take back that fated night for all the power he had. But he was still unwilling to wear the Orbring--given its dangers of possession—unless it was to wreak vengeance on the boy--for in his blackest hours, he blamed the kid for the tragedy—and he secretly dreamed of a day he would do something about it.

He had no idea that day was already upon him. He would soon slide his finger into the colorless circle and summon the seed magic of the Ichen.

Within hours, he would alter the course of history, cause calamity to come crashing down upon his own blood, sending five innocents to twisted ends—cursing each to the pit of the lost souls, where none ever recovered.

His was a deep and merciless insecurity—a strong and everlasting itch to kill his inner demons by casting them upon the faces of others—and commit their fates to folly for his own inability to forgive himself. He subconsciously faulted his own negligence for letting Guy and Ash go that night, despite his powerfully clear feeling that something was wrong—yet to his conscious mind, the kid was the one who he kept suspecting of the crime—almost as a deflection from the mirror, so he would not have to consider himself to blame. He was all but convinced the killer was the kid—and he could not let the murder of his children go unavenged. He festered to fulfill his driving urge to finish the nagging feelings for once—and just enjoin Devin with damnation before it was too late. He dreamed of meting out the remainder of his existence with some semblance of sanity—having touched the stone of righteousness—and revoked his guilt by calling out another.

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