Branded and Scarred (Chapter Two)

** I really don't like this chapter...It's not great, in my eyes, so all comments would be appreciated **


Grace increases the density in the air below the boy, causing his fall to be smoother and his landing to be softer. I hold my breath as he does, watching the sky lighten slightly.

Once he's on the ground, Grace lets go off her hold on the wind and looks at me, the boy's left shoulder limp and bleeding. I walk towards him cautiously and he stares at me, confusion and fright swirling in his purple-like eyes.

"W-what the hell are you?" He asks, backing away.

Chandler, Kelsey, and Tait appear behind us, having run through the storm to catch up.

"Is this him?" Kelsey asks.

My eyes look up to the window, where a shadow stands. The sky darkens.

"I don't think so." I say.

The boy steps backwards even further, glancing from us to the window and back.

His eyes swirl, reflecting the motion in the sky. Unless... The answer is whispered in my mind, revealing the situation as it is.

"There's two." I tell Chandler, the energy from before surging in my wrists.

The others turn to me but I keep my eyes locked on the boy, whose eyes are darker. A screech pierces the air and another body drops from the building, breaking it's own fall. He's older, quite possibly in his forties, but has the same eyes as the boy.

"Welcome to the party, Voltages." He smiles.

Chandler and I take the front, Tait with the girls in the back. The boy tries to continue to creep backwards, shaking slightly, but the man turns and pulls him to his side by the shoulder, blood staining his fingers.

"I don't want this." He whimpers, squeezing his eyes shut in what appears to be a flinch.

The man gives him a rough shove before turning back to us.

"We don't have to fight." Chandler says to the boy. "We can all leave unscathed."

"Don't play your mind games, sonny." The man says. "My boy will stay at my side."

I remember the fall from the building and wonder how he might have been put in that situation, wonder what made his shoulder bleed. My eyes set on the father for a moment, studying him. His knuckles are bruised, a slit on one of his fingers.

"Chan, he's a Shadow." I whisper, turning my back so they couldn't make out the words. "The father's a Hidden, but the kid isn't."

Chandler makes eye contact with me before the wind kicks up again. Grace sets a hand on each of our wrists and has Kelsey and Tait hold onto her, worriedly watching the man.

"You better be right." Chandler grumbles, whispering the plan.

When he gives the okay, I bolt for the boy as everyone but Grace charges the man. She follows me after I scoop him up and run off with him. He struggles, kicking me in the chest a few times, but I don't let go.

Reaching another alleyway, I stop and set him down harshly as payback for the bruises forming. He gasps, landing on his shoulder, and rolls on his stomach to try and stand.

"Just do me a favor and stay still." I say. "We aren't going to hurt you...any more than you're already hurt anyway."

Grace steps to my side, looking up at me for news on what to do next, and the boy sits, staring at us fearfully.

"I don't even know what's going on." He whimpers. "Dad... he comes home and starts saying all these things about people called Voltages and that they're after us and then he - "

"Hit you." I interrupt.

His eyes connect with mine before looking down.

"Then he threw you through a window." I say. "A window which was a good thirty feet up, by the way."

He swallows, the hand on his shoulder tightening its grip.

"He and I... We never had a good relationship with each other." He says. "My ma died in childbirth and he's blamed me ever since. Being hit wasn't a surprise, and I'd always imagined my death would come by him."

What a dark little dude...

"We can help you." Grace tells him. "We can take you to a place where you can hone your powers. You won't have to deal with - "

"He's like me too, you know." He interrupts. "Except...I've got a mix of what he's got."

"What do you mean 'mix'? What can you do?" I ask.

He glances down, blood oozing from between his fingers. Something glistens around him before he disappears. Swearing, I whip around and search for him, finding him atop the dumpster sitting cross-legged while looking at us.

"My mother wasn't like my father." He says softly, a glint of fear in his eyes. "And I have no idea what I am."

He flips his wrist to reveal his mark.

Scribbles.