Renaissance

II

Heph's P.O.V

"And then he put his number in my contacts."

Eterna looked at me with humour-the kind where you listen to crazy people talk and pretend they're not crazy. She puts her cherry lemonade down, leaving dark purple lipstick marks on the straw, and she grins.

"Heph," She starts rather, well, condescending; but I expect nothing less from my best friend, "That is insane! That's like some-some Coffee shop alternate universe come true!" She exclaims and I'm thoroughly taken aback by her response. She's not known for her rationality but then again, which of my friends are?

Me and Eterna both work at a local diner called The GrapeVine. It's like a country woman's idea of fancy, and we both hate working here. But it's money.

Tonight, we're supposed to lock up so the only lights on are the ones in the front of the house. The light pools on the table but the area around it still seems dark; like the night is creeping in through the windows. Deep down, something doesn't feel right but I wave it off and smile sheepishly at my still gushing friend. She tends to go on and on whether you're listening or not. It's endearing to me, and I'm not sure why.

I've known Eterna since middle school, and she hasn't changed a bit since. She dyes her hair at least twice a month-this time it's a deep purple to match her nails and lipstick. She's terrifying, or can be. She'll have her future boyfriends under control, I'm sure of it. She shakes her lemonade back and forth, catching my attention again as she takes a drink.

"So...?"

"So?" I echo.

"Are you going to call him?!" She exclaims and I swear she vibrates in her seat with excitement. I'm hesitant to answer. The research I did just doesn't make sense. The ninja star belongs to an ancient line of ninja and samurai-The Hamato clan. But it was wiped out. So how could their ninja stars be in New York and why? Why would some mundane thugs have them?

I relay this to Eterna, and she gives me a look.

Her eyebrow raises and her lips purse together, showing off her dimples. I'm not quite sure how she doesn't have a boyfriend yet. She's gorgeous.

"Hephaestion," she drags my name out in a playfully scolding sort of way, it makes me shrink down in my seat but I know she means well, "You know the answer to that! Call. Him!" She demands as her fists begin a relentless beat against the poor table accompanied by a chant that rises through the empty restaurant. I'm outnumbered.

"Call him! Call him! Call him!"

"Fine!" I shout over her chant and snatch my phone off the table in front of me with a defeated sigh. I open it with the new password I put in and go to my contacts. His contact is easy to find; the only L. The problem is, my fingers start to not work as they hover over the call button. So, Eterna being Eterna, she takes my phone and presses it for me before handing it back. I glare at her but she's immune.

"Tis ringing, m'lord,"she snickers and occupies herself with sucking down the rest of her lemonade. I wait for him to pick up, the familiar rush of blood hushing through my ears distracting me from the everlasting ring.

He doesn't pick up; his voicemail does.

"You've reached Hamato Leonardo! I'm busy keeping the streets safe right now but call back later!"

My breath catches at the Hamato bit. Surely, it couldn't be...I put my phone back down at the table and give Eterna a small shrug in response to her open-mouthed stare.

"Well, maybe try again tomorrow? It is pretty late anyway. Maybe gang members go to sleep early," she slid out of the booth, shrugging, and motioned for me to follow suit. I shoved my phone roughly into my pocket and followed her to the front where she let me out and locked the door behind us.

The streetlights cast the same pools of light as inside but the darkness wavered around the edges for real out here. It made goosebumps appear on my arms, which I rubbed out as Eterna poked me.

"Do you want me to walk you home?" I have to look up at her to see her response. I used to be so bothered that she was taller than me but I don't mind anymore. She's only got me beat by like two inches at the most. She shakes her head and shows me a bottle of pepper spray and a smaller, back-up bottle of the same stuff.

"No, hun, you should get home and get some sleep. You look like a raccoon but less adorable." She teased and ruffled my hair to my dismay. I stood there and watched her walk down the street for a few minutes, my eyes slowly inching back to the pool of light in front of the restaurant. There's something dark in New York.

I go and stand under the light, right in the middle of it, and look out at the city from under it. I feel like that one episode of Spongebob, but it'd be so cool if the Lost Woods theme was playing right about now. Or I was playing it, with, like, a violin or something. Oh my god I'm so cheesy. I mean, I'm allowed to dream. I take a deep breath, and it feels so good to let it out.

The walk home is uneventful. No trash cans are thrown into the street, no tall, dark strangers are met and surprisingly, I get home without tripping over myself seven zillion times. But, there's still something unsettling about it. It's so quiet. Like, 3 a.m, home alone, quiet. I check my phone to find that it's only 11:38. Strange. I don't pass anyone on the street, there's no one smoking in the alleys, and I can hear myself think for once. This city is so loud, usually, I don't know how I survive.

I get home, taking a few moments to unlock the door and get myself safely inside. I lock the deadbolt and turn to survey my apartment. A small, brown sofa taunts me from the living room-if you could even call it a living room-and a few unfinished canvases lean against the sliding glass window.

Giotto doesn't greet me at the door like usual. I think nothing of it and walk into the kitchen. My keys go in the bowl on the counter and another sigh seeps through my lungs like a sponge absorbing water. My eyes itch, and I know they're bloodshot and the bags under them are perpetually there. I get some water from the tap, and begin to look around for Giotto. It's so quiet, and I wonder if the apocalypse happened while I was working.

I didn't accidentally let him out this morning, did I? Panic rises in my chest as I hurry to head into the hall, calling for the cuddly Maine Coon.

I don't make it to my room. There's the sound of wood splintering, glass breaking, and I hit the floor as something hits me in the back of the head. I slowly get up, trying to recollect my senses. My breath rattles out of my lungs, past lips that feel chalky and dry. Something drips down my forehead, and through my blurry vision I see red dots on my hand. I fall on my side, now able to see into the living room.

The front of a car is rammed through the sliding glass doors, the headlights throwing saucers of light up on the wall that makes my head swim. It makes my stomach do somersaults .

The wreckage does not worry me as much as the creature perched on the hood of the crunched up car. My body trembling, I lay eyes on a truly terrifying being.

Bleached-bone eyes bore into me behind a skull with huge, wide horns, and swirling, dark skin as foreboding as the night sends chills over me. They're perched in a squat on the car, long arms planted in front of them. White designs coat their chest in some sort of weird symbols. I hear someone yell, and the creature breaks eye contact from me to defend from a shape swooping through the hole in my apartment. A flash of purple is the last thing I see before my eyes succumb to the spots growing larger and larger in front of them.

"Giotto..." I try to call for my cat, but to no avail.