These voices won't leave me alone

DAKOTA

I'm on my feet in the next heartbeat, grunting under the dead weight of Lucky, my thoughts drowned out in the roar of instincts: run run run hide run

Where we're meant to go is beyond me. Why that ass of a follower Luke just up and went off on his own, leaving us here to possibly die, is also beyond my silly mortal comprehension. Apparently. He couldn't have offered up more than we have fucking company before bolting for the hills?

Lucky sags in my arms, his head lolling against my chest, and I'm panicking. Just a little. But I'm panicking.

The world's off-kilter, swaying to one side. My heartbeat's picked up its pace like it's been fooled into thinking I've run a marathon.

I might actually die. It's a thought that's been rattling around in my head since I first saw Lucky outside the bank, but until now I haven't had reason to pin it down and fully examine it. Now that I do, I wish I'd been able to lock the grim reality of it away in some dark corner of my mind, because I am obviously not handling it well enough.

I've bluffed my way through crisis situations before, but then, I always knew I had the upper hand, in some way, somehow. I kept my wits about me and I listened, I found leverage to reason with. With the threat looming ahead of us here... I've got nothing. These aren't humans, they won't respond typically, and I have no basis for if negotiations are even possible with them. Lucky's their target; they'll see he's vulnerable, and maybe they won't think twice about disintegrating him in front of me, just like how he took care of those troublesome doves.

Don't abandon them just yet.

"I wouldn't..." My words trail off into stark silence. I didn't think that. That wasn't my conscience.

I whip around, half-dragging Lucky with me, but the warehouse, apart from the two of us, is empty. The dusty remains of the dove sit untouched in a pile close to my feet, the feather Lucky had been toying with settled a few inches away. Lights with cracked and broken bulbs hang above us; the upper levels, inaccessible due to an incomplete staircase, look barren, devoid of movement. I scan the windows, searching for a hint of life even in the distance, to no avail.

We're alone.

Not for long, Officer.

"I..." The words stick to my tongue, unwilling to leave my lips without a clear recipient. I swallow thickly, heart thudding erratically against my ribcage, then lick my lips and try again. "Are you... one of Lucky's?"

It's the only answer that explains anything. The full extent of Lucky's powers are a farfetched extreme to me; I know nothing of what his followers are capable of, either. Perhaps in his whimsical world telepathy is commonplace.

The voice sounds amused when it says, No, Officer, I am not a companion of Lucky. However, I have their best interests in mind, I assure you.

"Uh-huh."

Your voice rings of disbelief. Am I that untrustworthy?

"Seeing as you've chosen to invade my personal headspace without my consent, yeah, I'd say you're pretty damn suspicious."

How funny. Lucky didn't question my interference beyond simple curiosity. What different creatures you two are.

Lucky. Really?

I shouldn't even be surprised at this point, honestly.

Lucky shows no signs of stirring, his face slack with exhaustion, his eyes still beneath the lids. His mouth hangs open slightly, revealing too-white teeth and pink gums. He looks so inescapably human like this, I sometimes still find it difficult to process that he's anything but. But he's other, so very other that we might as well exist on two separate planes of the universe, with all that's caught up between us.

So he's been hearing a voice in his head all this time. It doesn't seem to have affected him much, though I don't have a lot to go on; Luke could tell me if he's acted strangely in the past few days compared to how he was before I even came into contact with him.

"What do you want?" I ask, dragging my eyes from Lucky's lifeless face to the doorway of the warehouse. Lucky and I had barricaded it houses ago, piling up discarded bits of timber and some rusted piece of machinery in front of it. Lucky had done most of the hard labor, seeing as despite his slim frame he's freakishly strong (a fact with I adamantly attribute to his otherworldly, inhuman powers). I doubt I could move any of it myself, meaning escape through there isn't a viable option unless Lucky regains consciousness in the next few moments. The windows might work, though; Lucky isn't so heavy that I wouldn't be able to hoist him through first before following him out.

Trust in Lucky.

Somehow, that knocks the wind out of me.

Haven't I been trusting him all this time?

Well... no, actually, I suppose I've been fighting against him more than I've been putting my faith into him. I've reconciled some of my ill-feelings towards him, and I've put aside the fact that he's not human - to an extent. But have I trusted him, even once, since we've come together?

They want nothing more than to restore the balance that Nike seeks to unravel.

I know that already.

They are not good, nor are they bad. They simply are.

I... get that. I do.

Trust them, the voices says again, emphatic yet reserved. As if the emotion is diluted, whittled down to the bare-bones of what it's meant to be. As if I'm hearing it from some unimaginable distance. They will allow no harm to come to you - and in return, you must save them.

My heartbeat stutters. "Save Lucky? How in the hell am I supposed to do that? He's the one with f-- with powers, ain't he?"

Silence.

I wait a moment, wondering if I've stumped the voice with my stone-cold logic.

Nothing answers me. Which I take to mean I'm alone again.

Save Lucky. That's quite literally the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard in my life. Compared to Lucky, I'm a measly, forgettable mortal - bound by concrete laws and hindered by time. If anyone's going to be doing some saving around here, I'd better every dollar I've ever made on it being Lucky who dons the customary cape and rescues the damsel in distress. Not that I can picture Lucky wearing a cape; he'd probably deem it a senseless accessory and toss it aside. Maybe he'd let Luke tear it into shreds as repayment for such insolence.

I'm just shaking off my growing hysteria when warm breath spills over the back of my neck, and I whirl around to see that Luke - miraculously - has returned. And he's brought company with him.

Another young man, his hair a mess of blonde curls, crouches beside Luke, feral eyes gleaming in the half-light of the warehouse. He smiles at me when he sees he's gained my attention, and I quickly note the elongated canines that nearly curl over his bottom lip.

"You're boss' new toy?" he asks sharply, cutting an accusatory look at Luke, who merely shrugs in response as he brushes away Lucky's damp bangs to get a better glimpse at his ashen face. There's a raven perched atop Luke's shoulder, its head cocked questioningly in my direction, as if echoing what the wolf-man has already asked.

"I'm not a toy," I grumble, shifting Lucky in my arms so that he's angled towards Luke and his probing hands. "And I'm not here by choice."

"Makes ya worthless, then, don't it?" the man drawls, unfurling himself from his crouched position to stand at his full height. He's a head shorter than I am, but he holds himself in such a way that I feel my lips curling in distaste, as if he's somehow bested me. It's probably related to dominance, or some other asinine wolf pack dynamic bullshit that I'll force Lucky to explain to me later. "If you're not here to fight for boss, then what good are ya? Huh?"

"Cain," Luke snaps, startling the wolf into attention, "quit your yapping and get into position, will you? Take Celeste with you."

Cain growls, low and thick in the back of his throat, but an answering growl from Luke has him lowering his head, the snarl wiped from his face as quickly as it had appeared. He signals with a jerk of his chin and the raven vacates its spot on Luke to flap after Cain as he slinks towards the door, his head swiveling subtly, ears scouting in every direction.

"He's harmless," Luke says absently, the frown marring his face doing a less than stellar job at convincing me that things will work out in the end. The worry wrinkling his brow is even less reassuring. "And you don't need to worry about him, anyway."

"I don't?" I blink, confused.

"No. Because you won't be here for much longer."

"You're not serious."

"Lucky isn't strong enough to travel by the usual means," Luke says, cupping Lucky's face in both hands and lifting it for me to see the dark shadows hanging beneath his eyes, accentuated by the starch-white color of his skin. He looks... he looks like Death incarnate. It would be comical under different circumstances, considering what he's told me about himself. "You'll have to carry him to safety, as far away from here as you can get. Celeste, Cain, and I will handle the lions."

I nearly choke. Lions?

"You're not backing out of this, Drake," Luke says gratingly before I can offer up even a whisper of resistance. I'm still stuck on - on lions. "If I had my way, I'd abandon you here and take Lucky myself, but as Fate would have it, should Lucky decide to go on another rampage, you're the only human I trust to bring them back from the edge. So you're taking care of them. End of discussion."

"Pretty one-sided discussion."

Luke bares his teeth at me grimly. "Would you rather I let Cain have his way with you? He's not as sympathetic to you mortals as our boss is. He'll make it last, Drake. He'll make it bloody."

I stiffen, phantom claws dragging down my spine. A memory of hot breath prickles the skin at the nape of my neck. I'm rather certain that Luke isn't one for making idle threats, which - that's concerning, to say the least.

"I won't leave him," I say after a moment's hesitation, soft but firm, and Luke's expression loses some of its jagged edges. He looks less like I'd cut myself if I fell on him, and I appreciate that immensely.

"Good. Because I'll gut you myself if anything tragic happens."

Luke pauses, turning back to the door. His nostrils flare, eyes narrowing to fatal slits.

"I'll come for you," he says, "keep them alive until then."

I take that as my cue and, recalling my scattered thought process from earlier, shuffle my way over to the nearest window, careful to maintain a steady grip on Lucky lest he crack his head open on the concrete floor. It takes a few precious seconds to knock out the remaining fragments of glass, but then I'm lifting Lucky through the opening and crawling out after him.

Just as I've managed to sling him onto my back, Luke barks out a foul word and literal chaos erupts from the warehouse. There's shouts and the sound of splintering wood and groaning metal, then growling so violent gooseflesh breaks out across every patch of exposed skin on my body. But I ignore it, my blood roaring loudly enough in my ears that I'm not so tempted to look back.

And I just run.