Static Reflections: Book 1 of The M... - Chapter 5: Chapter 5

"Of course you would drag someone into this with you," Tyler spat, crossing his arms as he and Boris stood in the middle of the otter's room. The chair Tyler had previously been in sat empty with the rope lumped on top. "I mean, you were already stuck-up before, but this just pushes it over the edge."
"I know," Boris' ears flattened. "I've taken you guys for granted in the past, but I wanted to get better. It seems that hope is doomed now, due to these circumstances."
"Yeah, and I don't want to be traumatized by watching you kill a bunch of animals, Boris!"
"I never said that you have to watch!"  Boris argued.
"I'll still know you're killing them! Can't Absalom just erase my memories or something?" Tyler suggested, clawing to any shred of a chance he would get out of this.
"Normally, he would, but now that you know about him, the knowledge is burned into your mind. It's like everyone who knows about him is connected by an invisible thread. So far, nothing has come of it, but we never know."
A loud groan escaped Tyler. "Of fucking course. So I just can't go home, then? What about the band? We're just gonna fuck off and forget about all that hard work?"
Now it was Boris's turn to groan. "Tyler. I do not want to do this. I have to. More animals will die if I don't. My . . . family will die if I don't. I can't do that. Not before I . . ."
"More animals will die than what?!"
"I need to kill twenty . . ." the otter mumbled. "Twenty animals."
"TWENTY?! WHY SO MUCH?"
"I wish I knew . . . ."
"Of course, you don't know anything," Tyler sighed. "Of course."
"I'm sorry . . . ." Boris looked down.
Another loud groan left the shepherd's lips. "What else do I need to know?"
"Um, well, you'll most likely be able to see my reflection now."
"What?"
"I might as well just show you rather than tell you. Come with me," Boris gestured. Tyler just stood there. "Uh . . . Come along?" Boris blinked, beckoning with his hand.
"How can I trust you? How do I know you won't kill me?" Tyler asked, standing his ground firmly.
"I won't!"
"You're still holding a knife, you know!" The dog pointed to Boris's hand.
Boris looked at the ancient dagger. "I can put it back in the mirror!"
"Huh?"
"Yes. Watch." He took out the makeup case once more and slowly inserted the knife back into the round reflective surface. He had clearly done it before. "See?"
". . . Just hurry up and show me your reflection or whatever," Tyler muttered.
Boris escorted him to the bathroom and switched on the light. Immediately, Tyler's eyes shifted to the mirror above the grand sink, where his mouth fell agape. "I . . ."
Boris sighed, looking at the sight he had gotten used to by now. "I know."
Tyler's mind raced, trying to understand what he was seeing. In the mirror, Boris wasn't wearing his everyday clothing, which also happened to be a suit whether he was performing at a concert or not. He wore a black tee-shirt with some strange design and black fingerless gloves, which the otter beside him did not have. The Boris in the mirror also had black eyeliner around his eyes, which is something Tyler never thought he would see. But the most significant thing of note was that dark blood covered the pseudo. It caked his ears, covered his face, and seeped into his clothes. It wasn't static either, drops of scarlet dripping off of his figure in a strangely animated showcase of impossible proportion. "Are you going to explain?" Tyler gawked.
"How can I?" Boris answered, staring at his shadow self. "This is just . . . something that happened one day. I was really freaked out by it at first. Less so now just because I'm used to it."
The German shepherd's eyes never faltered. He just continued looking at that thing in the mirror. ". . . My head hurts."
"I know. It's extremely troubling."
"And why can I see this again?" Tyler asked.
"Because you know about Absalom," Boris explained. "You won't be able to hear him, but you can see this now."
"And that's how you . . . get that knife?"
"Yeah. Absalom hands it to me through the barrier between our two worlds. That barrier is the mirror, of course."
"And he can cross it?" Just saying this made the dog fearful, stepping back from the reflection.
"No, not yet," Boris said. "Only the Blade of the Mirror can right now."
"You know what? If I really am just stuck on this dumb trip with you, let me find out as we go. Info dumps aren't my style," Tyler explained.
"Oh, okay," Boris swallowed. "Sorry."
"Uh-huh . . . so what now?" Tyler looked at the real Boris.
"We go," Boris stated simply.
"Go?"
"Leave. We're going to stop by your place so that way you can pack a bag, and then we're moving on."
"Leaving Austin . . . ?" Tyler's ears flattened. His tail drooped.
"No," Boris shook his head. "All the kills are in Austin, but we need to stay on the move constantly. I mean, the police won't be a problem because they'll forget about all of the murders, but the Mortal Guard will always be after us, and that's when we'll need to run."
"I hate this," Tyler frowned.
"You think I don't? Come on," Boris said, moving to a dark blue pre-packed suitcase that was in the corner of the room.
"So you were ready for this," Tyler stated, looking up from the bag at the unfinished painting on the easel next to it. It looked to be another otter, wearing feminine clothing and with longer eyelashes. The German shepherd knew that it was Leah, Boris's triplet sister. He hadn't realized they were close, as Boris never talked about her. Maybe he was reading too much into things and the otter simply wanted to paint her.
"I had to be," Boris began. "Suppose somehow the police or Mortal Guard found out about Absalom without me knowing and came here. In that case, I'd need to escape and fast," the otter said, getting on his knees and setting the suitcase down, looking at everything inside and making sure everything he needed was there.
Tyler watched again, his stomach doing flips as he did. He would be packing his own bag like this soon. It was strange because he knew how incredibly messed up the situation was, but it was his chance to escape the hell that was his grandfather's house, finally. The only issue was that it was out of one hell and into another. Only his grandfather, while a horrible person, would never kill him. At least, he figured.
Boris stood up after he finished, looking around. "I wonder if I'll ever see the mansion again."
"I-I don't know . . . ."
There were noises then. Shouting from lower in the mansion. Boris looked toward the open door of the bedroom. When they had arrived before, he left the door open to listen for anyone coming close. His ears perked and his eyes widened. "Shit. It's the Mortal Guard. We need to get moving right now. Go!" He was already moving, grabbing his suitcase and racing across the carpet.
"Go where?!" Tyler looked on, confused. "How do you know that's them?"
"Did you hear a door open? No! That's not the police down there!"
"What will happen if they find us?"
"They'll probably kill the both of us. Come on!" Boris urged. "Hurry!"
Tyler wasn't sure if Boris was telling the truth, but he wasn't about to take his chances. He scrambled to the door and the two entered the lavish hallway with its intricate carpet patterns and antique lighting. There was no time to take any of it in, though, as Boris brought them to an elevator, pressing the button to open the gate. "How is getting on this thing gonna help? You're gonna corner us!"
"I'm not," Boris stated, rolling in with his suitcase and then grabbing Tyler by the wrist and yanking him on violently. His chest rose and fell anxiously as he pressed the button that would take them to the basement. "This is one of multiple elevators in the house. This one, specifically can't be seen from the foyer. It sounds like that's where they are. The elevator should be quiet enough that they don't hear us."
Tyler moved back against the wall, pushing his weight onto it. "I'm so fucked right now. This is the worst thing that's ever happened to me."
Boris didn't say anything, just looking at him with regretful eyes. Their journey in the elevator had been a success, the door opening into the pitch-black basement under the mansion. Boris pulled out his phone and turned on the light. "Come on, come on."
The German shepherd felt his body buzz as he made his way from the golden light of the elevator into the darkness. It was eerily quiet, minus their footsteps, and he expected something to jump out at any moment. Boris led him to a set of ascending wooden stairs, already climbing up them himself. Each step creaked under the weight of his shoes. "This leads outside?"
"It goes up to the cellar door," Boris answered. "Come on, get up here, and take out your phone."
"Why?"
"Just do it! Or do you want to be killed?" The otter's stomach tumbled at the irony.
Tyler made it to the step behind it, taking out his phone. "Okay!"
"Face the screen toward me," Boris ordered.
Once Tyler did so curiously, the otter turned his light toward the screen and used the reflection to withdraw the Blade of the Mirror. "I would have used my sis's mirror, but I needed a free hand." He turned and looked toward the trap door above. "Keep the light shining over here."
"Um, what are you gonna do?" Tyler asked, keeping his light steady, unlike his heart. He could feel it wanting to jump out of his chest. This had to be a fever dream. His legs didn't feel like they were there beneath them.
Boris flipped the knife in his hand and then smashed the pommel into the door with a loud thumping noise.
Tyler gasped. "Shhh! You're gonna make a lot of noise!" His heart raced faster and he couldn't stop glancing back behind him.
"They can't hear us down here," Boris assured him, slamming the knife into the wood again. "There's a weaker board here . . . If I can just . . ." Wham! Bam! Crack!
"When did you get so strong?" the German shepherd asked, his voice higher pitched to his state of fear.
Boris ignored him as he broke the wood. "Aha!" He pushed through the wood and stuck his skinny body through the gap, reaching for the silver padlock and fumbling the combination into it. After unlocking it, he tossed it into the grass and pulled himself back through the opening.  He put his phone back in his pocket but kept his knife out as he used all his strength to push open the door. Moments later, the evening light was flooding into the basement, an orange sky awaiting them outside. "Quick! To the car!"
"You didn't have to make the car ride so awkward, you know," Boris said, popping open the driver's side door and stepping out once they arrived at their destination.
Tyler followed behind, that heavy weight in his chest creeping up when he saw the old house he and his grandfather shared. After his parents had died and his grandfather, who had always been friendly, took him in, he thought he might be in good hands, but he realized the old saying rang true: You never truly know someone until you've lived with them.
"What was I supposed to do? Act all hunky-dory and have a normal conversation? 'Oh, yeah, everything is totally fine. Lovely weather we're having, huh? Such a beautiful day for murder.'" Tyler looked at Boris distastefully.
The otter simply pursed his lips. Tyler was right. Why had he said such a stupid thing? "Go inside and get your stuff, already."
"Fine . . . " The canine began trudging up the walkway before he stopped in his tracks and turned around. "Wait, wait, I can't!"
"Why?"
"My grandpa is here! He'll be really mad!"
Boris furrowed his brows. "Mad? Isn't your grandfather nice? You never really talk about him."
"Because!" Tyler shouted, running up close, dropping his voice to murmur when he spoke next. "I . . . don't want anyone to know how it really is."
"And that is?"
The German shepherd debated in his head for a moment before spinning and pulling up his white shirt, revealing dark purple bruises and even some scars on his back. He looked at the walkway below, feeling sensitive that someone who wasn't Nick was seeing them.
Boris gasped lightly. "I had no idea . . . Why didn't you tell us? You really hid something like this?"
Tyler faced him once more, feeling like a balloon that was about to pop. He scoffed. "You're one to talk. Look, can we really not get into it right now?"
"Do you want me to go in? Just tell me what you need me to grab."
Tyler just stared at him for a few seconds. "Good idea! If you come in with me, then maybe he won't do anything. He never lets me have friends over, though . . . ."
"I'm fine going in alone," Boris answered.
"N-no! You can't!"
"Why not?"
Tyler blinked. That was a good question. There was something about Boris being alone in his house with his grandfather that rubbed him the wrong way. "Look, just come in with me. He probably won't do anything if you're there."
"Alright. Sounds like a reasonable guess," Boris responded. "But, Tyler, I'm honestly upset that he's been treating you like this the entire time. How many years has it been that you've been hiding this?"
"Don't act like you're my friend after what you did," Tyler huffed. "You still kidnapped me and you're still a murderer. You killed Astrid. That's it."
"Fine, then. Let's get inside."
"Y-yeah . . . . " The canine looked back toward the house, appearing more worried than Boris had ever seen him. He began walking with the otter in tow, and they reached the front door. Tyler fished his keys out of his pocket and slowly inserted them into the lock, turning it with a ridiculous lack of speed. "Maybe he's sleeping . . . ."
Boris didn't respond, and the door clicked and opened, revealing a very cluttered house that the inhabitants seldom cleaned. Dust gathered on the knick-knacks around, and it was almost stuffy, in a way. The wall was painted forest green and held a few paintings of an older German shepherd and a woman. There was a kitchen in the doorway to the left and a hallway to the bedrooms on the right.
Immediately, an older man's voice was heard, shouting. "Ty? Is that you? I told you to fuckin' knock when you come in!" From the way he was speaking, it was apparent the man was intoxicated. "Never know what I could be doin'!"
"Sorry!" the dog called, ears going back on his head.
"What's that smell?!" Loud footsteps right after that, and an aged but well-built German shepherd stormed out of the hall, and his eyes landed on Boris, then snapped to his grandson. "Who the fuck is this?"
"No need for language like that, sir," Boris said, offering a fragile smile. "And don't worry, I'm a friend of your grandson. We'll just be in and out."
"I told you not to bring strangers into my house," the man said, stepping closer to Tyler, who stepped back in response. He looked back at Boris, clearing his throat. "Especially someone from the fuckin' Downing family. What's the matter with you, dumbass?"
Boris frowned. "We'll just be in and out," he repeated.
"Y-yeah . . ." Tyler got out. "I won't do it again . . . ." And that was true.
"You're not going anywhere," his grandfather hissed. "Get that otter out of my house. I don't need no plushpuppy in here."
Boris clicked his teeth. "I have a name. It's Boris. And plushpuppy?"
The man clicked his teeth. "Everyone knows your father is a rich faggot. That's why his wife left him. Sicko can't help putting his dick where it doesn't belong."
"Tyler, get what you need, and let's go," Boris said, trying to ignore what the older animal was saying. "Sir, I'd oblige you not to speak about things you know nothing about. That's only a rumor . . . ."
Tyler moved his foot, and his grandfather grabbed his arm. "You're blatantly disrespecting me now? I told you to get this fuckin' richie out of here. He probably takes just after his dad, wanting to get in your pants. The bastards think they can do whatever they want just cuz they got money. It's sick."
Boris's teeth clenched. "You're clearly intoxicated, so I'm letting all of this slide." He hated what alcohol did to the mind. He had first-hand experience with the negative effects.
"Heh! I'm completely sober and just telling the truth. Get the fuck outta my house."
"Boris isn't gay, Hugh," Tyler hissed. "Now go take your meds and go to bed."
"What did you just say?" Hugh fumed, gripping Tyler's arm harder, the younger dog whining as he squeezed. "I told you not to call me by my name. When did you start defending faggots, huh? Is this your little boyfriend? Are you trying to go on a date? If your parents were alive, they'd be ashamed of what you've become. A deviant with no job and no life."
"Get off of me!" Tyler shouted, pulling his arm away from Hugh's grip intensely.
Hugh suddenly grabbed him and pushed his head against the wall. His breath reeked of a night of drinking. "Is this how you treat the man who fuckin' raised you? Huh?! You think you're a big man now who can go around swinging his big dick acting like he's the man of the house? I'm not afraid to punish you in front of your plushpuppy boyfriend. Maybe he can go next!" Hugh spat, shouting much louder than necessary. Spit landed on Tyler's face with every word. He raised his hand for a strike, hitting Tyler's back with his fist. Tyler barked out in pain as another bruise was given.
Boris gasped in horror.  "Tyler!" He grabbed Hugh's shoulder and ripped him away from the younger canine. "Quick! Grab your things!"
Tyler felt a panic rise in his body as he rushed forward, yelping as he jerked back violently. His grandfather clutched his tail, and his guardian threw him into the wall with a bang.
The otter quickly rushed forward and crashed into the older man, causing him to yelp and let go of Tyler, who ran into the hall, leaving the scuffle behind. He could hear grunting and slamming noises as he burst into his room, the door hitting the wall and leaving a rather sizable dent.
Tyler stopped and looked at it for a moment, but there wasn't enough time to stay worrying. He had to force himself to drown out the sounds coming from the other side of the house. It must have been extra aggravating for his grandfather to be fighting some random animal he had just met. Tyler knew how much he hated strangers, but everything Hugh had insulted he and Boris with had made him feel almost relieved that they were fighting.
He ran to his closet and slid the door open, looking inside for his gray suitcase, which was resting on the top of the shelf, gathering dust like everything else in the tiny house. Tyler hadn't used it since before his parents were alive.
The German shepherd pulled it down and threw it on the ground, getting on his knees and opening it, looking at the black interior. What should I bring? How long do I even have? What's going on out there? No time to think. He began pulling clothes off the hangers and tossing them into the bag. When that finished, he ran to his dark brown dresser and pulled each drawer open. Tyler tried to keep from panicking as he threw shorts, underwear, and socks into his suitcase.
He grabbed the contact lens solution bottle off of the top of the dresser and thrust it into his bag, along with the reusable lens case with its blue and white caps. For a brief moment, he looked up into the small round orange mirror hanging on his wall, noticing his wildly frightened eyes. This couldn't be happening.
Any keepsakes? Collector's items? Your phone charger, for sure. How long will this trip be? Are we even gonna be able to wash these clothes? What if something happens to my suitcase? His mind was running rampant.
Tyler continued to go around his room, putting things in the bag. At one point, he looked at the acoustic guitar nestled in the corner, always waiting for the German shepherd to play it again. He felt sadness in his heart as he knew that he wouldn't be able to take it with him. It had been a gift from his father. "Goodbye . . ." he whispered. After he was sure he had approximately everything that could fit into the bag, he shoved it all down and began rezipping the lid.
CRACK! The loud sound of a fired gun made him nearly jump out of his pelt. The canine left the suitcase behind, dashing out of the room, where he had left Boris and his grandfather. They weren't there. He ran to the second biggest room, the kitchen, and found an appalling scene there.
The first thing he saw was all the red that had splattered the black and white tiles and dilapidated wooden cabinets. A black pistol was on the ground, touched by an expanding pool of the crimson liquid, and soon it was outlined entirely by the substance. And then, there were the two animals, whose quick duel had finally come to an end.
Hugh was on his back, eyes wide open in an infinite gaze at the ceiling. His maw was ajar, red painting his yellow teeth. From the corner of his mouth to the ground, a line of scarlet was drawn. Then, there was Boris, who was kneeling next to him, looking straight at Tyler. His hand was gripping the golden hilt of that same dagger before. And the blade. The otter had sunk the knife into his friend's grandfather's chest with almost none of the silver visible. Tyler Finlay soaked up this entire scene in a single moment, barely comprehending what he saw before Boris spoke once again.
"Tyler! I . . . He had a gun, and I . . . I just . . ."
"You killed him . . ." Tyler barely got out. It was strange that he had wished this man dead so many times--maybe an accident on the way home from work--and now that he was, he realized he never actually wished death on anyone, even his terrible grandfather, despite everything he had insulted them with before.
". . . Did you pack your bag?" Boris asked as if nothing had happened.
Tyler's panic finally set in, even though he had been good at keeping it back until that point. "You killed him! Oh my god, what do we do? What do we fucking do?! There's blood everywhere! My grandpa's dead!"
"I know, I know!" Boris shouted. "Absalom will take care of it! We just need to leave! Get your bag! Hurry!"
"I can't do this!" Tyler wailed, a hand going over his chest. "My heart . . . I feel it beating so hard. Am I going to die?" He fell to his knees, clutching his chest.
The otter let go of the dagger, coming over and gripping his shoulders, not having to kneel to do so. "Calm down. You're having a panic attack. Just breathe."
"Call the police!" Tyler said. "An ambulance or something! I'm going to die!"
Boris' eyes faltered slightly, but he shook his head. "You're not going to die."
Tyler lay down on the floor, then. "I'm so scared, Boris . . . ."
"I know . . . ."
"I'm so scared," Tyler repeated, his tail curling up with him.
Boris just looked at him, then sighed. "Where is your bag? I'll get it and put it in the car. You need to calm down. Freaking out won't do anything for you." It was clear that this wasn't something new for the killer. He had first-hand experience with this, too.
The German shepherd kept hyperventilating as his heart pounded. "I'm so scared, Boris . . . ."
I suppose I'm on my own, the otter thought. "I'll be right back, Tyler. I need you to calm down. Can you do that?"
"Please call the police . . ." the German shepherd whispered against the chill tile.
Boris, knowing the police would have no effect here, decided to play along. "Alright, alright. I'm going to call the police. You stay right there, okay?"
"O-okay . . ." Tyler nodded very slowly and only once, his cheek rubbing against the ground.
Boris exited the kitchen, looking in each of the other rooms in the house for what looked to be a teenager's room. Luckily, the house wasn't that big, and he found it easily. Even luckier, the suitcase had already been packed, lying flat on the carpet. Boris kneeled to grab the handle when he heard that voice he despised so much.
"You did the right thing, you know."
As if on instinct, the small animal turned his head and looked at the full-length mirror that hung on the back of Tyler's closet door, seeing his dark reflection there. "I have nothing to say to you."
"I'm just saying, little otter, don't feel bad about murdering him in cold blood. He was an abusive man and a misogynist. He was the scum of the Earth. I bet most animals would be glad he's gone."
"I just killed a member of Tyler's family, and you're saying not to feel bad about it?" Boris frowned. "It's not that easy! He's my friend . . . ."
The pseudo smiled. "On the bright side, this counts toward your twenty. I only need twenty bodies. I'm letting this one slide, even though I didn't pick it out for you. See, I'm not a total monster, puppet."
Boris picked up the bag, sighing. "I'm going back to Tyler. Be ready to take the knife back."
Meanwhile, in the kitchen, Tyler was laying down and continuing to stare at the scene before him. It was all so real. His heart was no longer hammering in his chest. He felt as though he was about to fall off the edge of a cliff. The whole thing was happening much too fast.
And then there was Boris. He was a stranger now. A stranger that was leading Tyler around on a leash. The dog hated that. Was he supposed to roll over and take this? It was unfair. He would be way angrier if he weren't so terrified of the murderer. He had taken out and replaced his grandfather as the animal he feared most.
Boris walked in with Tyler's suitcase rolling behind him. Where Tyler thought he might find determination on his face, he only found worry. "We can't stay here. Take this and wait by the front door. I don't want you in here when I pull the Blade of the Mirror out of him. Please."
Tyler barely registered his voice while simultaneously hearing every word, somehow. His body felt like it was moving on its own. He sat up slowly and got up, going to Boris and grabbing the long handle of his suitcase from his small brown hand. He looked back at the bloody corpse of his grandfather for the last time before turning around and walking away.