The Esoteric Design Read online

  Dovian trailed his bored gaze from Troy to Boris. He was stocky, big-armed, and with nearly no neck at all. His nose was wide and crooked, his jaw jutted out to the side, and his brow was thick and full.

  “He is quite hairy,” Dovian agreed.

  “Two vodkas.” Boris slammed two glasses onto the metal table. “You start tab?”

  “Yes, sir,” Troy said.

  “Good. I keep eye on you.” Boris signaled, pointing to his eyes then at Troy's. After a second, he then pointed to Dovian.

  “Sounds good.” Troy nodded slowly. He eyed the thick glasses on the table. He was expecting shots, not tumblers. “Eh, how much are these?”

  “It’s homebrew. Real cheap. Knock you on your ass,” Boris replied, cleaning a few glasses with a towel that appeared less than sanitary.

  “How I like ‘em.” Troy lifted the glass to his lips. The scent was strong, almost like chemical cleaner. His nose wrinkled as he gagged. This was going to be painful. Troy seemed fearful, holding the glass against his lips. Now Boris was watching.

  Dovian slowly raised his glass. “Down the hatch?” he asked Troy finally.

  “Down the hatch.” They clanked their glasses together and poured the pungent liquid down their throats. “Oh, gah! It burns!”

  “That…is horrendous.” Dovian cleared his throat, a rather distasteful look on his face.

  After a couple coughs and gags, the two men stared at one another.

  “Good shit, right?” Boris asked.

  They both gave a small laugh. “Yeah. Good shit, Boris.” Troy signaled for another refill, which Boris gratefully obliged.

  Deciding to take things slow on the next round, Troy and Dovian sat quietly in each other’s company. Boris played some old tunes on the digital jukebox; the strange, nasally sound of the music set the tone for a lonely atmosphere. Dovian sipped casually from the bitter liquid. A chime sounded from the opening door of the hotel. A young couple shuffled in, covered lightly with snow debris. They giggled quietly and made their way toward the bar. Boris busied himself with mixed drinks.

  “Any idea where the attack will be taking place?” Dovian asked now that the room was occupied with more noise.

  “We speculate it will occur during the Stock Talks. Apparently, Vitaly Lebedev wants to buy out one of the leading competitors in electrostatic research and development, Elixis. He already owns most of this city. The talks are supposed to be televised all over the world.”

  “And why would this man want to buy this company?”

  “I dunno. Money. Elixis makes trillions of units each year. Can you imagine the amount of money and power one could receive by owning that company? It’d be like owning the biggest form of science the world has to offer,” Troy quickly lowered his voice. “Electrostatic technology is used for nearly everything. It’s used by militaries for force shields, ammunitions, EMP weaponry, and for hovercrafts. It’s used for forms of electricity, transportation, biomechanics, the medical field, even something as little as holographic imagery. It’s everywhere! If this guy buys out the company, then he could easily buy out the whole world.”

  “That’s a scary thought.” Dovian glanced at Boris. He was on his DNAIS, arguing with someone.

  “Yeah, very scary. There’s just no balance anymore. We’ve heard about the Stock Talks for a while now. Bio-Tech’s been all over this intel for a long time. In fact, we originally were supposed to set up an operation, infantry and flanks, along the outskirts of the city in case Lebedev was successful.”

  “You were going to start a war?” Dovian asked.

  “Hell yeah. It helps balance the scales.” Troy nodded. Dovian didn’t look too pleased with this information. “But then those monsters showed up and ruined all plans for that. We’ll just have to wait and see now.”

  “Maybe the attack will occur before the talks are concluded,” Dovian murmured.

  “That’d be nice,” Troy paused, “Well, no, it wouldn’t be nice. It would be nice if there were no attack and Elixis kept their own business in their own hands.”

  “I still cannot figure out why the monsters would attack during a time such as this. I had the inclination that they only wanted to destroy things. This makes it sound like your military has figured out something useful and is not sharing that information with anybody,” Dovian spoke softly, swirling the liquid in his glass.

  “Hey, Mr. Clarke wouldn’t hide anything from Aria and me. He wouldn’t put us at risk like that.”

  “It’s possible he isn’t aware of the information either and is also being kept in the dark,” he suggested.

  Troy thought for a moment. What Dovian was insinuating was something unheard of. Why would Mr. Walten keep any secrets from President Clarke? Was something like that possible? Clarke did state that something fishy was going on in the upper side of Bio-Tech. In fact, he even warned Troy of his suspicions regarding Walten’s behaviors.

  “I dunno. You could be right. I just hope Mr. Walten realizes the grave mistakes he could be making if he is keeping secrets from the President, who runs his company.” Troy swallowed the rest of his liquid. A chime at the door brought his eyes up to the now bustling bar. When did so many people show up?

  “Good, you’re still here.” Aria shook out her trench coat and tossed her hair, snow falling to the floor. Ivory stood beside her, shaking her furry-hooded head.

  “That was fast,” Troy stated.

  “It’s snowing pretty hard out there. Can barely see a meter in front of you.” She shivered, her teeth clattering together.

  “It’s beautiful!” Ivory sang, jostling her bags from side to side between mitten fingers.

  “You call something beautiful one more time, and I’m smacking you,” Aria growled.

  Ivory stuck her tongue out at the military woman, not caring that Aria saw. “Aria needs a drink,” she said in a cross tone.

  “Aria always needs a drink,” Troy grumbled, scooting his chair to the side to allow the women to sit with them.

  “Find something to your liking?” Dovian asked Ivory.

  The woman had three colorful bags in her hands. She bit her lower lip, nodding happily.

  “Yeah, she nearly broke me,” Aria grumbled.

  “Don’t let her fool you, not all of these are mine.” Ivory grinned.

  “Oh?” Troy glanced at the black-haired woman beside him.

  Aria twirled the electric-blue tresses of her side bangs around her finger. “I maybe bought a thing or two.”

  “She bought underwear,” Ivory blurted.

  Aria glared at the blonde.

  “The lacy kind,” Ivory added.

  Aria pressed her face into her hands. “Why don’t you go upstairs and put on your new clothes, show the boys what you bought,” her voice was muffled.

  “Okay!” Ivory spun on her boots and darted toward the staircase leading to the rooms.

  “You’re not going to try on your new items?” Troy asked mischievously. “To show us?” Aria lowered her hands, her green eyes shooting lasers at him. “No?”

  “Order me a drink,” she spat out sourly.

  “Sure.” Troy quickly scooted from his chair and made his way to the crowded bar, flagging down the sweating Boris.

  “Had fun, I presume?” Dovian asked.

  Aria puffed out her cheeks, slowly breathing out. “Tons.”

  “She’s quite the handful, isn’t she?”

  “You’d know; you were married to her for a day.”

  Dovian chuckled, the sound was low and hollow in his chest. “A little talkative, but she means well.”

  “Very talkative. She never shuts up. And everything is cute and beautiful. Bunny rabbits and rainbows,” Aria scoffed. “I feel like I need a shower…to wash off all the cheerfulness.”

  “It’s not all that bad, is it?”

  Aria looked up at the Sorcēarian. His eyes were bright in the dark tavern. The light highlighted his features, a vivid contrast against the red tattoos on his eyelids.r />
  “No. She’s not bad, just annoying. I’m just not used to people like her.”

  “Maybe humanity could use a little amnesia,” he chuckled.

  “That would be nerve-wracking,” Aria groaned.

  “Not if you were one who had it as well.”

  “You going to wipe my mind a clean slate?” Aria asked.

  “Maybe, if I had the ability.” He smirked.

  “You don’t have that ability? I thought you could do anything, Dovian.”

  She leaned forward, eyeing the man before her.

  “Oh, I can do lots of things, my dear.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like–” he reached back for his staff. Aria gripped his hand.

  “No staff. What things are you capable of doing without that weapon?”

  Dovian leaned down, closing the gap to where their faces were almost touching. Aria stiffened under his vibrant stare. “Those types of things are more personal.”

  “Personal?” she questioned, her voice involuntarily rising in pitch.

  “If I were to do anything without my staff, it would require me to touch you. You see…” Dovian grabbed the woman’s wrist and twisted it so her palm was raised, “my body houses all the powers I need. My staff acts as a conductor, allowing me to expel the energies the way I would need for combat.” He moved his fingertip across the woman’s palm. Tiny prickles of electric light sparked from his hand, trailing down his finger to her palm. The surge traveled down Aria’s wrist, spiraling across her arm. It didn’t hurt. The sensation was actually soothing. Aria watched the blue lights spiral toward her shoulder. She glanced up at Dovian, his eyes matching in intensity. Looking behind her, he quickly removed his hands from hers, the sensation dissipating altogether.

  “One vodka–” Troy started. He stood beside the table, feeding Dovian a strange look. The soldier’s crooked grin quickly fell as he turned his attention to a blushing Aria.

  “Took you long enough,” Aria muttered after a beat.

  Troy’s tense posture gradually loosened as he plopped onto the seat beside her, handing over the drink.

  “Boris was in the middle of refilling the homebrew. Had to wait.”

  “Boris?” Aria asked, breathing a nervous laugh. “You know the bartender’s name?” She was good at hiding whatever strange thing she and Dovian had previously been in the middle of, acting oblivious to the fact that they were merely centimeters away only moments ago. Troy sagged in his chair.

  “Kinda rough around the edges, but I like him,” he said.

  “You always like those types.”

  “Hang out with you every day, right?”

  “I’m not rough around the edges; I’m slightly frayed,” she teased, drinking from her tumbler. She coughed. “Oh, God! What is that? Window cleaner?”

  “Good shit, right?” Troy asked.

  “No, terrible.” Her face was twisted as she took another drink. Aria nervously looked to the side. Dovian was leaning back in his chair, arms folded. He seemed completely detached from the others, watching the civilians in the room. His gaze then lifted to the stairs. The corner of his lips turned upward. Aria turned her stare in the same direction.

  Troy whistled. “Take a look at that.”

  Ivory stood at the top of the stairs. She descended gracefully, a rather large smile plastered on her pale, yet rosy, face. Noticing every man in the room gawking at the fair-skinned woman, Aria suddenly felt sick. Who was this woman? And why was she so damned perfect?

  Adorned in fancy Cherno fashion, Ivory wore a yellow gathered halter, chain ties centering atop her chest with a white stony jewel. Above that, joined by golden bangles and more chain, was a tangerine-colored bolero jacket, gold imprints decorating the materials. Her middle was squeezed into a black leather corset, the back tailing over her backside with golden ribbon. There was a leather, braided and beaded, tasseled belt wrapped around her waist, centered with a similar white stone. Her legs were covered in matching leather leggings with ridged textures and topped with knee-high laced boots similar to Aria’s. It wasn’t practical at all. She looked like a freaking model.

  Ivory crossed the bar, tugging on her fingers nervously. A tattooed woman with purple hair rushed to the blonde’s side, grabbing her arm. Aria quickly jumped from her seat and rushed to Ivory’s side.

  “Excuse me, I have to ask,” the woman said. “What dye did you use to get that skin tone?”

  “W-what?” Ivory asked.

  Aria snaked her arm around Ivory’s elbow. “Body Style by Chenar, dye color: Ivory,” she sputtered quickly as she pulled Ivory back toward the table where the two staring men were sitting.

  “She thought I had dyed my skin?” Ivory questioned.

  “Yes, Ivory. You dye your skin; you dye your hair, and you wear optic enhancers. Do not, under any circumstances, let anyone know that you are naturally–” she held her breath. ‘Beautiful. Just say it,’ Aria lectured herself.

  “Natural?” Ivory asked.

  “Yes. No, you’re not natural. I mean, you are, but you’re not normal,” she stuttered in circles a moment before sitting the other woman and herself down. “People get jealous easily. They also fear strange and unnatural things. And, well, your pale skin and hair is very unnatural these days. You can’t let people know that it’s your natural skin tone, hair color, or eye color, or they may attack you. It’s for your own safety.”

  “O-Okay,” Ivory whispered.

  “Remember what happened earlier to Dovian?” Aria asked. Ivory nodded like a child. “That could happen to you.”

  “Okay.”

  Aria leaned back in her chair, sipping from her glass. She eyed the solemn woman beside her. For the first time, Ivory wasn’t a bag of kittens. Aria suddenly felt a bit sorry. It wasn’t Ivory’s fault she was gorgeously different.

  “Here.” She handed the glass over to the blonde. Ivory gave it a curious look and then smiled, downing the rest of its contents.

  “Oh. That wasn’t pleasant,” she coughed.

  “Get used to it. Hang around us, and you’ll be needing it,” Aria said.

  Aria then realized, if an attack did take place tomorrow, there was a good chance that this was the last time the four of them could be alive together. It was the first time the idea had occurred to her. It did nothing to soothe her nerves either. But, if they did survive an attack, they would surely need another drink of Boris’ horrible homebrew vodka. Good thing Aria packed an extra bottle of hydrate.

  "Ivory And Her BFG"

  Chapter 12

  Rustling leaves clattered against the stone pathway. The cold wrapped around Aria’s body, twisting her thick coat across her knees. Echoes of her boots clapped loudly in her ears, puddles of water splashing underfoot with uneven tones.

  “Are you ready for the show?” a male voice gently sounded from far, far away.

  Aria wrapped her arms around herself; her hands clenched the black fabric of her sleeves.

  “Look out! Everybody get down!” Voices from all around, nearly inaudible in the woman’s ears, called out in panic. “Honey?”

  A gust of wind rushed around her, tousling her hair. Strands of black and blue streamed over her eyes, some sticking to her trembling, wetted lips.

  “You have to get her out of here! Aria!” the pitches rose, a woman’s voice screaming.

  A thunderous boom, a vibration of noise, shook the stark landscape of brown and red leaves. The explosion heightened in volume, and Aria shook, falling to the side as a bright light engulfed her and everything around her into nothing but white. A shrill shriek sounded, burning her ears. It all lasted only a couple of seconds, leaving her in a silent black. Opening one jade eye after another, Aria slowly rose. Turning her head from side to side, she listened quietly to the new gurgling sound around her.

  “Aria...” a choking voice whispered–a sound like death.

  She froze, icicles spreading down each individual vertebra. Slowly turning, hands clenching her jac
ket tightly, Aria shook in the cold that enveloped her. Her breath stopped as she saw a body lying face down in the stone pathway. A single light in the darkness shined above her and the man beside her. She dropped to her knees, the pain sending shockwaves through her body as she quickly reached down and gripped the man’s white dress shirt. Her knees were wet, soaking in the blood that covered the concrete. Slowly, she turned him over. Holes covered his torso, torn deep into the man’s flesh. A bloody, murky crimson spilled from the man’s wounds.

  His face was contorted. He did not die peacefully. He looked fearful, worried, his mouth open wide as if he had been screaming. Aria quickly recoiled, falling backward onto the stone. The cold quickly evaporated into desert heat. The landscape lit up, the darkness consumed by street lamps lining the bricked road. Stores and vehicles occupied the streets all next to a theater, one that was now set ablaze, debris and bodies all around. The corpse before her trembled with a turbulent force and everything exploded into crimson, shockwaves shaking the woman as she screamed.

  “Daddy!” Aria shouted. She flew forward, her sheet falling from her chest. Darkness surrounded her; a soft hum came from the clock at the bedside. It was all just a terrible nightmare, one that Aria very much had not wanted to relive. Moaning quietly, she quickly wiped away at the tears on her face. Self-consciously, she hastily turned her head to the bed next to hers. Thankfully, Ivory was still in a deep sleep, unmoving and completely under the covers, reminding Aria of how dreadfully cold it was. Goosebumps lined her arms and she shivered, her teeth chattering in the freezing cold of her hotel room. Eyeing the alarm clock beside her, she sighed. It was three in the morning.

  One toe poked the wooden floor then another before she planted her feet on the icy surface. With a swift tug and pull, she wrapped a sheet around her body and traveled to the heating unit beside the window. Aria gave it a swift kick, sending the device into a dull hum and shake as it sputtered back on, temporarily warming the room.

  “Piece of shit,” she muttered tiredly to the ancient technology and turned to the bathroom, snatching a glass to fill with water.