Obsidian

Story contains mild adult language.

The subtle sounds of water flowing down a gentle incline masked the zip of my backpack’s pockets as I loaded up my insignificant camp. All of last night’s camp consisted of was a wool blanket and can of beans warmed by a lighter. Too risky to start a fire, not when I was this close. 

I buried the empty bean can with my latrine and washed the dirt off my hands in the stream. The moon still had a few more hours amongst the stars before passing the sky off to the sun. I had grown to be a light sleeper, especially in the differing wildernesses I visited while following his path. Some nights I didn’t sleep at all, some only a few hours. He didn’t need sleep, so the longer I delayed my pursuit gave him more time to advance on me. 

The stream was chilling, letting me know I was running out of time before winter was upon us. Last year we were in the desert of Arizona for winter. I preferred that to the incoming frost and potential for snow. He seemed to favor the desert but journeyed up North after about two months. Last I checked we had made it to Montana. Hopefully he wasn’t heading to Canada, but it would allow him more open space and freedom to roam. 

Freedom he shouldn’t be allowed to possess. 

I pulled my jacket closer to my chest, scoffing at the rip in the sleeve from when I nearly broke my neck following what I thought was his trail down the side of a ravine. It turned out to be some amateur hiker that did actually break his neck down the side of a ravine. 

This pursuit was my job. Whatever money I had before was stashed as cash in my pockets. The majority of my clothes were taken from donation boxes in church parking lots and from the back of mission vans in the cities I ventured into to replenish my supplies. My pack held a sufficient amount, but I have to eat more than he does. This jacket came from Salt Lake City and was honestly one of my favorites, which is why it pissed me off so much that it was ripped. 

I’ve lived in tatters before. Because of him. 

I hopped across the stream, careful not to lose my footing in the night in my stained Columbia boots. I slept in them, you never know when you have to move. Sometimes you fall asleep on a park bench or an old farmer’s hay storage. 

The darkness didn’t hinder my ability to track, well, him at least. He left an aura in the air, part of the reason that I’m even involved with him. My father could see it too. 

His aura has a distinct color that I’ve had to learn. It can blend and mix with others and gets sort of washed out the longer it’s been in the environment. That’s what’s caused me to get lost and lose him a few times. 

This trail was fresh. He seems to be slowing down these past few months. Maybe the weight of his guilt was catching up to him. I smiled to myself. I wasn’t even sure if he knew I had been following him for eighteen months and twenty two days. The most probable explanation was an injury. Which excited and angered me at the same time. I ‘ve been picking up my pace to catch him but would hate to win only after someone else’s initial injury.

His trail descended into a valley. It was a gentle slope but I used the barks of trees to help me not lose my footing in the dark. His trail, the color of grapes getting crushed at dusk, beamed bright before me. The stream I slept beside seemed to wind its way to spill into a larger waterway cutting through the bottom of the valley. 

The color meandered back and forth in the water. He likely stopped to clean himself, take a drink. In the darkness I couldn’t tell if there were any stones or logs to use as a bridge so I gritted my teeth and trudged through the water, not wanting to risk him seeing the light from my flashlight. My boots were largely waterproof, except when water got in them. 

He stayed in the valley following down the other side of the shallow river. The horizon had started to glow with the oncoming sunrise. Then, I smelled it. 

A stench like rotting flesh masked with the perfume of rotting wood. 

A stench I’ve only smelled once before, when I watched from a hidden panel in the wall. 

When he killed my father and fled from my childhood home. 

This is the closest I’ve ever got to him. I started to run, then realized I was sprinting through the thinly dispersed trees next to the river. His footprints were more apparent. Large, talon marks in the dirt and mud. 

A thin streak of light on the horizon. Fog snuck lazily off the surface of the water. I thought I saw a flash of black through the trees up ahead. A lump blocked my throat, frogs jumped against the walls of my stomach. 

I broke through a line of trees and saw his back clearly. Stretched, leathery wings sat tucked against his back, the right one torn cleanly in two from my father’s resistance. The horns protruding from his forehead scraped the bottom of the canopy. His movements were slowed, deliberate. 

My boots kicked up wet leaves as I skipped, producing a 9mm pistol from my bag’s side pocket and a boning knife from its sheath against my thigh. I felt my chest heaving, tears threatening to spill from my eyes. But I couldn’t cry now, not until I was reunited with my father. 

“You have a lot to take accountability for,” It had been so long since I’ve talked that my voice came out rough. “I don’t even know if you can understand English, or if you have any language at all.” 

The pistol was positioned in front of my face, being supported by the hand holding my knife. 

“We have a language of our own, and know all of your world’s languages. Even the extinct ones. We have been here far longer than I think you realize.” 

He stopped walking and turned to me. His voice grated my mind like concrete blocks scraping together. Beams from the rising sun illuminated the valley. It highlighted his obsidian skin and talon-like fingers and nails. 

Gargoyle. 

“Shut up!” I yelled, breaking the peace of the morning. My own voice echoed back to me off the surrounding trees. 

“Twenty six months and thirteen days. You killed my father twenty six months ago.” 

“Forgive me, I am unsure exactly how long a month is.” 

“Each time a moon cycles through going up and down, you absolute asshole.” I could feel my lip quiver. 

“Ah,” He nodded, tapping a curved nail along his forearm. “But you have been behind me less than that, though still a long time.” 

I bit my lip before speaking, “So you knew I was there?” 

“Yes,” he nodded. “Though sometimes I would lose sight of you for many days.” 

“You could see me?” 

“My species has remarkable eyesight.” 

I shook my head. “No. No! You don’t get to tell me about your species. Not until you tell me why you killed my dad.” 

He made a sound I would compare to a human sigh and I watched his wings sag slightly from their tucked position on his back. 

“For me to tell you that, you must know about my species.” He looked around the space we were occupying and gestured to a fallen log twenty paces away. 

“I won’t sit with you,” I said with my gun still pointed at his chest. 

“Then allow me to sit. I am starting to feel my age.” 

“Which is?” 

“Two hundred and thirty eight years.” He gave no further explanation. 

“Continue,” I nodded. 

He drummed two fingers against his cheek. “Let me see here. We as a species age slowly. We are not of this world naturally, but are able to cross here through tears in our skies. This is how humans have crossed to other worlds and how other creatures have ended up in this plain. Once a tear closes we must find another way to return. They open inconsistently at sporadic locations around the world. 

“I arrived here with my clan after a village of blood-thirsty humans invaded several of our towns. Our intention was to gather information on the human race. We arrived with thirty six of us and scattered. Due to our keen eyesight we would perch on top of tall buildings and observe your race’s behaviors. We largely went unnoticed due to our presence being new in this plain, except for a select few who could see us fully.” 

He gestured to me, standing in front of him with a gun trained on his body. 

“Some could see glimpses of us, if the rays of the sun hit us at the right angle. We thought those like you would put our mission at risk, so we were tasked with hunting them down and eliminating them. This is what I did with your sire. He was a fierce one, that father of yours.” 

His right wing twitched and extended. 

“He injured me in our fight. Foolish of me, really. Wings are our pride as a specimen. I thought he was weaker than he proved to be. When I returned to my clan they cast me out. I have been searching ever since I was shamed in front of those I once considered kin.” 

“Searching for what?” 

“Another tear, so I can see if it leads to my homeland.”

“So you can run away? Never seeing justice from what you did?” My hand started to shake. 

“Just the opposite. My clan was considered a vigilante group. Our leaders did not want us venturing into other worlds without a peace treaty or even without the knowledge of us. The one who led us through promised we would remain just and return with information that would help our species reach out to you. After my banishment it became apparent to me that this was false. I was shamed twice over, by the same person.” 

“You want to flee to your homeland?” 

“I want to tell my country’s leaders of the wrongful deeds that are being committed here. Turn myself in for betraying our values as a people.” 

He lifted his eyes to meet mind. They were speckled, flecks of gold dancing in the sunlight. 

“Your hatred for me is justified. However, I would like to continue living so I may try to prevent this from happening to another human.” 

A sob escaped my lungs, a pathetic mewling among the trees and creatures of the wood. My grip on the gun tightened, then relaxed, and I let my arm fall to my side. My legs buckled, and I gave into it. The cold ground welcomed me like a friend. After a silent moment I pulled the bag off my back and into my lap. I tucked the pistol away and hugged the bulky fabric against my chest. 

“So, this whole time, you’ve been looking for another tear to open up?” I asked quietly. 

He nodded, “Yes. If a tear opens it may lead to my home, or another world that may have more tears or access to a portal.” 

“Why don’t a lot of tears happen here? On Earth, I mean.”

He chuckled a little, at least, I think it was a chuckle. “Your world government has developed a machine to interfere with the tears from generating. Thinks closing you off to the world will make you stronger.” 

I opened my mouth to speak, stuttered, then spoke. “Well, we are a pretty messed up species. We fight amongst ourselves, kill each other for no reason, and I‘m pretty sure we have some beef with aliens.” I shrugged, “Maybe it’s a good thing we don’t get introduced to other dimensional beings until we figure our own shit out.” 

He laughed at that. It was like a concussive wave that hit my ears. Loud, throaty, rich. 

I quite liked it, actually. 

“So you haven’t been running away from me?” 

“How could I have known to run away? I took you so long to even find me in the first place.” 

“I needed time to grieve and figure out my feelings. Seems I’m figuring them out again now.” 

“What do you mean?” 

I sighed, “I mean that I hate you. Have every reason to kill you, expose you, not trust you. But for some reason, I just can’t. You know you wronged me, wronged this world.” 

“Yes, I have done that several times, I’m afraid.” 

“I think I do hate you, though. But knowing my father took a pawn out of your clan leader’s plan makes me feel a little better.”

We sat for a while, I’m not sure how long. Long enough for my ass to get cold and the sun to attempt to warm me. 

“Maybe I’ll go with you.” 

He cocked his head to one side, “Help me find a tear?” 

“No, no. No. Not help you. Accompany you, be your chaperone, per say. Make sure no one else suffers like I did.” 

“I would say that seems fair. But what happens if we find a tear?”

I thought for only a moment before answering, “I would go with you. Be a representative for the human race, I guess.” I shrugged, “I can’t really return to normal life now. What, find a job, tell them I watched my dad get killed by a gargoyle? Yeah, they’d lock me up for sure.”

“Well, that seems to settle it, then. You will accompany me. My journey will become yours.”

“Though the objectives of my journey remain.” 

“Justice,” He nodded and offered me a faint smile. 

I nodded back, “Justice.”