Wild Tiger Chase - Chapter 13: Chapter 13

— Phillip —
"Oh, hell, no!" Phillip grabbed Léon's arm and held him in place. "You're not diving into danger like that. Not without..." He glanced at Modraniht, then cleared his throat. He completed in a whisper, only for Léon to hear. "Not without your powers. So... stay here. I'll see what's happening."
The sun was already setting, and the steep angle of its light cast a scared expression on Léon's handsome face.
Modraniht placed a hand on Léon's shoulder. "I'll keep an eye on them."
Léon hugged the shivering anteater closer. "Be careful."
Phillip nodded. He looked at Léon once more before following Cae and Vanessa's tracks through the narrow streets snugged between almost-non-existent sidewalks.
Truth be told, Phillip had no idea of what circled Léon's thoughts. He had never looked quite so scared and quite so aloof, and, four years ago, Léon would never have accepted to stay back and wait.
What's happening to you, Leo?
This was so unlike him. This was so... scary.
As Phillip continued to run, curious faces popped on windows and opened doors, all of them too young and too innocent to show any fear. Like the children observing him, the houses and streets looked tired and worn-out, cracked by the hot winds and the absence of water. There was dust and a strong sense of abandonment at every corner, hidden beneath the thick curtains adorning the houses.
More than that, there was a silence and stillness that stretched and pulled taut, like the string of a bow. It was drawn with way too much strength, though, for it broke a moment later when a gunshot boomed and spread scared gasps among the children.
Shit. What was happening here?
"Hey... stay inside your homes. And close the doors!" Phillip told the curious kids, rushing his steps. He took a right in an exceedingly narrow alley, seeing a small crowd of people gathering at the end of it.
"It took my baby, don't shoot!" a voice cried. Accompanying the first voice, dozens of others followed.
Worry gnawed at his heels as Phillip jumped over wooden boxes and plastic trash cans. There was a spacious square at the end of the alley, filled to the brim with murmuring people. And that's where Phillip planned to go, but his feet caught on a loose stone on the street; he stumbled forward.
A strong hand held his arm, stopping his fall.
"Whoa, careful there."
Phillip raised his gaze to meet a pair of striking brown eyes. The woman in front of him seemed to be roughly his age, with short, thick strands of brown hair and the fullest lips Phillip had ever seen in his entire life. There was a weird badge at her chest, half-hidden by her caramel jacket—it was a Mapati tree, or so it seemed.
"You okay?" she asked.
He blinked and used the moldy walls as support to steady himself. "I was just... distracted."
"Not showing any gratitude, huh," she said. The woman's eyebrows twitched. "Wait, don't I know you?"
He couldn't answer. To be honest, he almost wondered the same thing, but as an image started to form in his mind's eye, the woman looked away.
"Rafa, where are you? Let's go," a male voice said.
She looked at Phillip again. "Time to go. Be careful, all right? And try to be nice to people." The woman smiled, gave his shoulder a gentle pat, and disappeared in the crowd.
He didn't have the time to dwell on that encounter. Without a second thought, Phillip cut through the swarm of people, going towards the middle of the square. Once he reached the center, he took in the scene unrolling before him.
Cae had his arm raised, pointing a gun to a mysterious figure on horseback, meters away. On the horse, in front of the ghostly figure, an almost-immovable little girl sat, gripping the animal's mane. Her face was pale and coated in sweat, but her smart little eyes flicked to and fro as if assessing her situation.
Behind the girl, something akin to a monster had both hands raised—but not in surrender, considering the threatening, crackling energy forming on their fingertips. A long, dark mantle covered by stretches of moss, leaves, and seeds blanketed the figure.
"I said, give the child back!" Cae shouted, cocking his gun. There was no sight of Vanessa anywhere, but Cae's imposing presence seemed to occupy the whole square. His posture, his demeanor, even the violent look in his eyes were different than before.
From where Phillip stood, he could only see the mysterious figure's back, so their expression was a mystery when they said, "You don't understand, and I won't try to explain this to you. But maybe you'll feel it if I show you."
Vanessa emerged from the crowd at Phillip's side. A glistening, white wire wrapped her arms and was pulled taut between her hands like a garrote, and she sneaked towards the horse rider with steady, soundless steps.
Holy fuck, she was a good sneak.
Still, a mass of green energy enveloped the horse rider's arm, and they twisted their trunk, shooting towards Vanessa.
Phillip didn't think. His body sprung into motion, and he jumped in front of Vanessa, activating the shadow trace as a shield before him. The green bolt hit his defense like a kick in the groin, throwing him against Vanessa and pushing them back so hard, they both lost their footing.
"Disgusting backstabbers," the horse rider said. They spat on the dry earth and tugged at the horse's reins, pulling it around and shifting in his seat.
"Don't you dare take her!" Cae shouted.
Phillip raised his head, trying to get up. Answering the light tap of the rider's leg, the horse started in the opposite direction Cae stood, going from a trot to a gallop as people screamed and parted to let them pass.
"Get off," Vanessa growled, pushing Phillip's back. "We have to get that bastard!"
He rolled to the side and stopped belly-down, his face on the dirt. "You're welcome," Phillip growled. He felt a hand on his shoulder and another on his arm.
"Yeah, yeah. My hero," Vanessa said in an ironic voice. "Now c'mon, get up."
Vanessa tried to lift Phillip, but his body didn't respond. He moved his hands closer to his face and frowned as his throat constricted. There were dark marks on him as if someone had injected tar in his veins.
Something was wrong.
Phillip blinked a few times, his vision blurring. He looked at Vanessa and shivered, wondering when the hell that woman had started to grow horns.
"But what's happening to him?" came Léon's voice.
Phillip tried to open his eyes, but they felt soggy and heavy as if he had spent a week without sleep.
"We can't be sure." This second voice sounded like Modraniht's, but it had a strange intonation to it. He sounded... scared. "I'm still doing tests, and I'm doing my best to slow down the spread of the sickness, but something is very weird in all this. This is definitely not natural."
Someone clicked their tongue and sighed a trembly sigh. Léon, perhaps, since he said right after, "Maybe it's some sort of weird venom trace? I knew someone who used venom and ice; maybe this is... what? Venom and Ink? Venom and shadow?" Léon's voice wavered, his final word withering into fear. "No. Please tell me it's not venom and shadow. Please."
"It's not," Phillip managed to mumble. He doubled his efforts and opened his eyes to meet Léon's scared, almost-crying face.
When Phillip tried to sit up, Léon placed a hand on his shoulder and pushed him down, saying, "You need to rest, Phil. Please."
That scene flashed something into his mind. He narrowed his eyes as his heart swollen. "This looks familiar." His voice was so low and so weak, Léon leaned in to hear him better.
"What's familiar?" Léon pushed him down again, and this time Phillip obeyed.
"When Roberto-the-great-fucker got hurt, this one time... I saw you crying. Do you remember? Four years ago, after we faced The Mayor." Phillip growled. "I hated that Roberto. I still hate him."
"Phillip...."
"Not for making you cry, Leo. But because you never cried for me. When did you ever cry for me?"
Léon blinked a few times and rested a hand on Phillip's forehead.
"What's he saying? I can't understand a thing," Modraniht said.
"I'm not sure. His words are all jumbled," Léon answered. "Is it the fever, Modraniht?"
"I'm saying I'm glad you're crying for me, dammit!" Phillip shouted, his voice grating against his throat. He closed his eyes; they burned.
As a velvet darkness covered him, the voices became distant. The words were hollow, void of emotion, but brimming with weight.
"Maybe he wants water or something to eat?" Léon asked in a small voice. It was Léon's voice, but it wasn't. "He gets cranky when he's scared. This is just his sorry way of asking for help."
What? No, this isn't right.
"Well, he's even more pathetic than I thought, then. I can't understand why you'd be friends with someone like this."
"He was my boyfriend."
"Are you sure? He sounds like an awful lover."
This isn't right.
"I guess he was pretty awful." Léon let out a sigh and chuckled. "He locked me in his bedroom once—said I wouldn't leave until I came to my senses and gave up the idea of breaking up."
Léon, please. I'm different now. I'm learning. I'm trying to be better, I swear!
"Sounds terrible."
"And the threats. The veiled offenses. The violence! There was always this violence in his eyes and so much contempt. For me, for his mother, for his team. For himself." Léon scoffed . "Shouldn't he like us? Shouldn't he love me?"
and I regret that, I do. Mistakes, all of it. I was so young and so dumb. Please, tell me you forgave me. Please!
"Tragic." Modraniht shrugged and got up. "I'll find something edible for him. Leave him if he becomes agitated again, Léon. People like him can't function in society. He needs to suffer alone."
Léon nodded, and Phillip's vision blurred. He blinked, making something hot and thick roll down his cheek.
This wasn't real. Was it? It was that damned green bolt. The horse-rider had done something to him.
A warm hand cupped his cheek and moved to his forehead. Phillip opened his eyes again. The morning light filtered through the cracks in an old curtain, showing old furniture half-hidden by shadows. Léon sat at his side. His eyelids were heavy, his lips cracked, and there were pouches under his eyes.
"Are you crying, Phil?" Léon dragged his chair closer to his bed. Yes, Phillip was lying on a bed inside a house he didn't recognize. He could hear the faint sound of conversation and the clanging noises of a kitchen nearby.
This felt more real somehow. Still, he couldn't stop the feeling clawing at his chest—a feeling that made him believe there was something very wrong with this Léon. Phillip clasped his wrist and tugged, keeping him in place as he sat up.
"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Leo," he whispered. His voice was dry and weak, a flimsy shadow of what it once was. "For being a terrible boyfriend. For making you hate me." He pulled him harder, and Léon had to jab a knee on his bed, to avoid falling over him. "For everything. Please, please tell me you forgive me. Please tell me—"
"What the hell are you talking about, man?" a voice said. It wasn't Léon's voice.
Phillip widened and narrowed his eyes as his sight adjusted. He was holding Vanessa, not Léon. His breathing quickened. Phillip let out a frustrated growl and roared, clawing at his bed.
Whatever was happening to him, he wanted it to stop.