The Captivator

Chapter 5

Vyn appears equally as bewildered as I am, but she still wears that bored-cocky expression on her face, as if she sees angel-crafted cars ride up the sides of buildings every day. I do as I’m told, drawing my rod and concentrating on the bright blue sphere of light. “Jeremiah,” I whisper forcefully.

Immediately I feel coldness grip my hands and spread slowly up my arms, the cold radiating from my rod. I see Vyn fidget nervously beside me, a first. Blue, Jeremiah’s zany blue, tints my surroundings, turning the already bright sky to a shimmering hue. The blue surroundings seem like a different world, and gives the viewer an almost dizzying high. This is opposite to Vyn’s dark purple color, staining the landscape with hair raising shadows, instilling a dread so deep you can feel in in the corners of your soul. Too bad Captivators don’t have souls.

And then he’s here, materializing quickly out of the blue – pun completely intended - standing right before me. Jeremiah holds himself with an ease different than Vyn does; she holds herself as if she can take on the world while he looks as if he has seen it. His thin but muscular figure along with his jagged blond hair gives him the statuesque impression of an angel. But I am always drawn to his eyes, the same ridiculously zany blue that I chronically wonder are natural, or a side effect from demonism. I’ve heard that physical forms sometimes change, explaining the  folktales of demons with scaly wings, horns, and sharp tipped tails, but I have no idea how common it is. His eyes are always cold and this is why I often think of him as an angel of justice and judgment. His eyes meet mine. He folds his arms against his chest and lets out a light exhale, not quite a sigh but close, as he cocks his head to the side. I muster all of my being, putting fierce and fearlessness in my eyes as his seem to stare into me, through every façade. Why did I get stuck with the two most unnerving demons of all eternity?

His eyes break our gaze as he flickers his eyes to Vyn, then back to mine in accusation. “Why her.” He demands his question full of the accusation in his eyes.

I thrust my chin out and firmly meet his gaze. “I needed her strength. You wouldn’t have killed that rogue Captivator,” I say without flinching.

He pauses as if pondering my response, and then nods in concession, the anger still in his eyes. Like his sister is for him, he is also very protective of her, even though he is two years younger than her 17 years. He strides toward Vyn, his long legs quickly closing the distance between them. I see him murmur something to her and she softly responds. It is too windy to hear their soft tones, but they seem to be checking on each other. I frown slightly; demons really shouldn’t care about much other than their own personal pleasure and triumphs. A different part of me wonders if Jared and I talk to each other with the same familiarity.

Jared reappears from the shed, and hurries over to us. We gather around him as he extends his palm open and upward. In his hand are four oval shaped chips of what I can tell is animus but two are gilded with dedecus, the Demon counterpart to the Angel’s crystal. “These will help us get to the Authority’s sanction,” Jared explains.

“Sanction?” Jeremiah questions with a slight quirk of his lips. He’s amused, I realize after a few moments. I couldn’t tell with his predatory gaze in those eyes.

Jared seems indignant as he snaps coolly, “Yes, be careful not to burst into unholy flame, the Authority wouldn’t appreciate demon ash on their sanction floor.”

Jeremiah’s lips raise in a snarl, like an alpha wolf whose authority had just been questioned by another he clearly believes is inferior. I fret nervously, thinking of the two of them arguing in front of the Authority.

Jeremiah crosses his arms again. “I don’t want to go anywhere this bastard with a superiority complex is going,” he says, eyes gleaming.

I immediately step between them. “Let’s just go guys, the Authority is waiting,” I reason.

Jared rolls his eyes and gives Vyn and Jeremiah the two gilded chips of animus. “Press them into the back of your neck,” Jared instructs as he does as he said with both himself, and for me. “This enables us to use the transporter.”

Transporter? I blink confusedly as my vision becomes dynamic then fuzzy, then in crystalline clarity. Jared leads us over to the over used lawn chairs and tells us to sit. At this point my vision had gone back to hazy and the movement of sitting down makes my stomach ripple with nausea. I see the others with similar sickened expressions on their faces. That is the last thing I see before my mind goes dark.

Not a second later, my vision reappears, this time the three of us have normal vision again, though it is dark and I still feel the chip humming on the back of my neck. I realize Jared is no longer with us and begin to panic.

“Rise please, and state your name,” I hear the genderless, but powerful voice command. I immediately recognize it as the power of the Authority, though I am unsure how. I slowly raise myself from the ridiculous sun bleached chair and so do Jeremiah and Vyn, with extreme caution.

“Adylin Keeper,” I whisper, then loudly repeat myself.

I hear several murmurs then the voice asks incredulously, “And the name of your rod?”

My heart freezes. What had he said? I have never heard of naming a Captivator’s rod, they are used for dealing with demons, not for nicknaming. But  I don’t want to appear ignorant in front of the Authority. I scrabble through the back of my mind for names of Captivator heroes and I am met with several good choices.