"River, grab him!" barked Parks.
She rushed over, trying to grab his other hand. The two struggled. "Once I get my answers, you'll get your precious spirit stone back!"
"It's 'soul stone', and you don't know what you're doing!" River finally managed to grab his hand.
"Use force if you have to!"
Heeding his instruction, her palm began to heat up Marcus's skin. The pain came too fast for him to resist his reflex. His palm opened, but the soul stone wasn't there.
"Where is it!?" Parks gripped Marcus's hand even tighter. He resisted the urge to scream.
"I don't know, maybe I absorbed it!—Argh!" Parks's grip just went from gorilla to industrial hydraulic ram.
"Witchcasters can't absorb soul stones—that means you can't absorb a soul stone more than once, so where is it!?"
"Tell us or we'll all die!" said River. She looked genuinely panicked—like their lives were actually at risk. That wasn't a bluff?
"What!? Why!?"
"Soul stones are highly volatile masses of pure soul essence. Introducing any form of impure soul essence into it will disrupt that balance and cause a combustive reaction the size of roughly ten pounds of TNT concentrated into the size of a nickel. Witchcasters are—"
"The short version!"
"All Witchcasters have impure soul essence, and beginners can't control it very well. If even a little gets inside that thing by accident, we'll all blow up and die!" said River.
Beginners?… As in newly awakened? Like he was?!
He spat out the soul stone—he hid it in his mouth during his and River's struggle. They both let him go at the same time and all three of them looked down at the stone.
Marcus watched the inside of the gem—or rock—shine. Its smoky insides still swerved and swirled like it had been, but was it just him, or was it moving faster?
And it was getting brighter way too quickly. He turned to find River and Parks already on the other side of the room. His heart raced.
They weren't kidding—this thing was gonna blow.
He grabbed the stone and tossed it behind his bed, rolling off the bed with his leg still caught in the handcuff.
Marcus struggled, crawling, trying to pull the bed with him but it was bolted to the floor or something.
"Get this thing off of me!"
River gritted her teeth and rushed over, grabbing the chain of the handcuffs. "Dumb brat!" Her hands began heating up, and so did Marcus's leg.
The chain came off, or melted off—didn't matter. A second later, and she rushed back to Parks's side. Marcus got up on his feet and was immediately knocked down again as the rock exploded, deafening him.
His ears rang, vision tossing from side to side. Dust filled his lungs and he began to cough; bits of debris sliding off his body. He quickly covered his eyes and mouth before getting on his feet.
He looked around, squinting the one eye that wasn't closed. Half of the bed was lodged in the ceiling, and the other half was blown into the side of the wall next to Parks and Rivers, who were coughing and shielding their eyes from the dust and smoke.
The wall behind the bed was gone, and in its place was a giant hole—big enough for him to jump through—with sunlight beaming into the room. They weren't lying about the time of day.
Now was his chance.
He rushed over and stood on the crumbling hole in the wall, looking at the outside. There was an open dumpster what looked two or three stories down. A jump like that would've killed him when he was an invisible stain on the wall, but now that he's a wizard or Witchcaster or whatever…
He didn't recognise any of the buildings around, but the building he blew up was conveniently situated in an alleyway and perfectly blocked by a huge signboard.
He wasn't wearing his own clothes and getting home would be hard seeing as he had clue where he was. But he needed to get home to his mom, and as long as no soul stones were around, just like Parks said, he should be safe.
He had no reason to join them.
Still, jumping from this height took a lot more courage than he'd anticipated—he thought he had that in excess.
"Marcus, wait!" Parks's voice was composed but urgent. The smoke had settled down. "You could hurt yourself. Come back inside."
"I'm a Witchcaster now, right? I saw River get blasted into buildings like a freaking rocket. Things that should've killed her didn't kill her," he looked down with a nervous smirk, "a fall from here wouldn't kill me."
"I know how you feel—"
"Sure you do. You keep tabs on people but don't help when they damn need it—"
"Marcel was killed by OCs—not us!"
Marcus remained still, his back turned to Parks. He tightened his fist and looked down. A second or two later, he would jump; he didn't need to hear this bull.
"You and your father were attacked by massive OCs ten years ago, and he died—"
"He died trying to rescue me!"
"He didn't die in vain." Parks took two steps forward.
"Come any closer and I'll jump!" Marcus's grip on the concrete tightened.
Parks's footsteps stopped. "A man was there, on that day ten years ago, wasn't he?" he asked. "A man with a legion of OCs at his side, taller than anything you've seen."
Marcus still didn't turn. "And?"
"His name is Lucan Silas. He's the head of the bad Witchcasters we've been fighting against. He was the one who brought that army of OCs that killed your father," said Parks.
Marcus turned and looked at him. Parks continued. "You're not the only one he's hurt... And I'm sorry we weren't able to do anything back then. But we want to stop him and his organisation from taking anymore innocent lives."
"You're going to help me find what's-his-name? And…" Marcus took a breath. "And end him!?"
Parks stared at him and nodded.
Damn it! What was he supposed to do now? The one guy who's filled him with so much hate for the past ten years—there was finally an avenue to find him and make him pay right in front of him.
He didn't trust them, but he had to if he wanted any chance at achieving both of his goals.
Staring at the drop again, he weighed his options.
"Kid," said River.
Marcus turned around with a vein in his head. "I've told you to—"
"Thank you." Her voice was calm, sincere— pained—with a pinch of bite to it. "I saw how you carried my friend's bodies when I was fighting the frog; I saw you feel as much pain as I did.
"I don't care if you join or not, but the fact still remains that you saved my life. If not for you, their bodies would've…" she paused; her face telling that she'd imagined what she left unsaid.
River continued. "Whether I see you again or not, I at least want to say thank you."
Marcus felt the air from the outside toss his hair.
Dead comrades… those four people who died—kids like him—what better way could he avoid a tragedy happening like that again? Here in the CC, or out there on his own?
"We recovered the body of the smaller frog you killed." Parks tossed the clipboard. It skid across the floor, stopping at the foot of the hole where Marcus's stood.
It had pictures of the massive burnt frog, of Marcus's charred body lying in the streets, of River covered head to toe in injuries, and of all four of those kids covered in drapes.
"You didn't just kill it, you murdered it brutally. You hate OCs, and that's perfectly understandable. But so does the CC. We hunt them; we're hunting Lucan Silas; we share a common enemy.
"I can't promise you won't regret joining us, but if revenge is what you want, then I can promise we're the quickest road there."
Marcus picked up the clipboard and looked at all the pictures one last time, lingering on a certain picture—the burnt carcass of the massive Loveland frog.
He tossed it straight back at Parks. "Can you promise me one more thing?" asked Marcus.
Parks caught the clipboard.
"Unfortunately, no," said Parks.
Marcus smirked. If he'd said yes then he would've jumped—this man wasn't a liar—the CC is the quickest way to get what he wants.
"Fine," Marcus walked up to Parks, "I'll join the CC, eradicate all OCs from the face of the earth, and take down Lucan Silas!" he declared with a broad smile.
"You'd be selling your soul," said River.
"So long as I take his," Marcus said with his hand stretched out.
Parks shook his hand. "Welcome to the CC!"