25th Hour - Chapter 6
Redemption is a selfish deed.
Previously on 25th hour…
Three months after Kayne found Jackson hiding behind a secret wall in his own bookshop, the two teamed up to trap a Mercia-Wolf. Kayne planned to use the wolf to persuade the girl to help him go after the Judge. For reasons still unclear, Jackson was now seriously injured, relying on crutches to move.
The day had been long. We’d spent it hiding in an old police station in an abandoned part of town. We took turns watching over the Mercia-Wolf, which was now awake but locked in a cage. When it was my turn to keep watch, Jackson slept, but when the roles reversed, I didn’t trust him enough to let myself sleep.
“How’s the leg?”
“Bad,” Jackson croaked, before coughing up more black, tar-like mucus. He wasn’t well. His wounds were infected, and he was getting worse.
“We’ll get you to a doctor soon,” I promised. It was a weak promise.
He nodded meekly, as if he too knew the brittle nature of such an assurance.
Three months ago, when I’d found him hiding behind that secret wall in his bookshop, he’d confessed everything to me. He admitted to using me for his own gain but also claimed it wasn’t his idea—that he’d been forced into it by someone far more dangerous: a man named Damien. I thought it was just another one of his lies. I told Jackson to stay away and that he’d pay for what he did to me.
After that, I stopped entering the 25th hour. Unlike the other wardens, who were burdened by debt, I had no reason to risk my life. Discovering that Jackson had been using me had freed me, at least in theory. But each night, in my dreams, I heard the howls, cries, and barks of the beasts from Abhorrosen. I saw them killing and destroying. Guilt pulled me back in. I knew what damage these monsters could inflict, and I had the power to stop them. I had the power to help.
Despite no longer being a warden, I still had the ability to throw fireballs, and I still had the special watch that let me enter the 25th hour. So, I put it back on, took myself back into the 25th hour, and tried my best to help. Without guidance, I was lost. It took me two weeks to find my first portal, and even then, I had no idea how to deal with the creatures coming my way. A month passed, and during that time, I made mistakes. I met other wardens, and stupidly, I trusted them. They were all crooks, thieves, and liars, each in it for themselves. Eventually, I decided to pay a visit to the one person I felt could help: the girl.
…
“Heard you’d done a runner,” she snapped from the dark depths of her hood as she stood ten strides away from me in the middle of the almost-midnight street.
“Well, I’m back now,” I replied, hoping I sounded at least a little confident.
She pulled her hood off to reveal a fresh scar that carved its way down from her left eye to the centre of her chin. “What you want?”
“Help.”
She tutted and wagged a finger at me. “You don’t need help, you need advice: go home, Free-man.”
It stung when she called me that. In many ways, it was true. I was free. But I didn’t feel it. Fighting these creatures was the only time in my life I’d felt purpose. I couldn’t let that go.
“I need your help. I need you to teach me about the 25th hour.”
She laughed, hard. “Help? Man, you’re crazy. Why would I do that? And why do you care?” She stepped forward and looked at me stiffly. “Go home!”
“I can’t just forget the 25th hour exists.”
“Course you can.”
“I’ve tried.”
“Try harder.”
I paused. This was stupid. I was wasting my breath. I gave it one last shot. “You can have any credits I earn.”
This time her reply wasn’t so quick. “How can I trust you?”
“You don’t need to. I just want to learn more about these beasts—where they come from, what to expect, and how to defeat them.”
“And in return, you’ll give me any credits you get for killing them?”
I shrugged. “The credits are no use to me.”
She stepped closer. “You cross me and—”
“You don’t need to threaten me,” I interrupted. “I know what you’ll do to me.”
She held out a hand for me to shake. “Then I guess we have a deal.”
For the next month, I met her every few days, and she taught me about the creatures—their weaknesses and strengths. She also told me about portals and where they’d appear, which was information handed down from the Judge and her cronies. In return, I told her about my kills, and she claimed responsibility and picked up the credits. We had a system, and it was working—until one day.
We were sitting in our usual fast food joint, and I’d just told her about last night’s beast, another Panthregal, which I’d taken down more easily. I was getting used to hiding my fear from them. Then, she decided to let me in on something.
“Rumour has it, Jackson’s back.”
I tried to act indifferent.
She continued, “Word is, he’s asking about you.”
“Let him ask. Nothing to tell.”
“Makes me wonder what he told you.”
“Lies,” I replied. “He told me lies.”
She smiled. “But what lies?”
I leaned forward after swallowing another swig of my drink. “Let me get this straight. You still won’t tell me your name, but you want me to tell you all about the pack of lies some old crank spun to me?”
Her smile widened, and she leaned back.
“Fine,” I continued. “If it makes you happy, I’ll tell you. He told me it was never his idea to drag me into this world. He said someone put him up to it.”
“Who?”
“Does it matter?”
“Who?” she insisted, coldly.
“Someone called Damien.”
Her face turned an even paler shade of white. “Damien?”
“That’s what he said, but it’s just another lie, right?”
She stood quickly and spoke through the lump in her throat, “I need to go.”
“Where?” I snapped as I grabbed her wrist before she could leave.
She stopped, glared at me, and spat, “Let go, or I’ll put a fork in your eye.”
I obliged. “Please, just tell me what you know.”
“Look, I ain’t scared of anything, but I ain’t messing with Damien. If he’s involved, then I’m out.”
“So Damien’s real?”
She rolled her eyes. “You just don’t get it, do ya? The 25th hour is dog eat dog. And Damien? He’s a wolf. Hell, he’s a pack of wolves. You don’t mess with Damien.” She scoffed one more bite of her hamburger and left.