Meditation. That was stupid, Starcrowe thought, as he threw his cape on the bed of his rented room. He didn’t want anyone else to know that he rented a room at some apartment building that had five bedrooms and lived with a bunch of reckless and one-step-from-being-homeless kids. Two were on drugs, one was a dancer at a club, and the last one knew Jesus personally and would intercede for people for a little cash on the side. It helped that he was from Vibora Bay.
He didn’t need to meditate. His powers were enough. But Scott had proved that his own control wasn’t enough. Grim was teaching him how to use his powers; Scott would teach him how to control the urges when he did use his powers. How the darkness felt like a silky layer over him, flowing through him like warm water or blood, and out – and how hungry it was, and how hungry it left him.
There were days, when after a mission, he had to jerk off in a closet somewhere before calling the authorities because he was so wound up tight. Sometimes it was twice a day. Even with someone, he could only do two or three missions at once before having to quit and go to the bathroom for a really long time.
Meditate. Okay, I’ll show you meditate, he thought to himself, and got out of his clothes. In only his shorts, he sat on the floor and plugged in his headphones. He found static on the radio to play it for white noise.
He breathed in. Out. Closed his eyes. Breathed in. Out. He did it slowly, calming down, and thinking, This isn’t so hard.
Reeeee…
His eyes flashed open. He could have sworn he heard that through the headphones.
Reeeemmmmemmm…
He tore off the headphones, looked frantically around the room.
Burrrrrrr…
He grabbed his ankh and held it tight. “Stop it!”
The shadow from the light of the window that was across his floor at the foot of his bed seemed to shimmer.
Meeee…
Shadows leading from the closet shimmered and moved, starting to grow tall.
Remember meeeee…
Both shadows grew to a man-sized height, nondescript except they were men. A third shadow came from the corner, thinner than the others, and all around him was the sound of “Remember me.”
“Stop!” he screamed, holding up the ankh like a cross. “Leave me alone!”
“Remember me. Remember me. Remember me.”
“NO!” He had no idea who they were, why they were doing this, or anything going on – he dashed out of his room wearing only his underwear and carrying the ankh. He ran directly into the main room where one of the kids was strung out on the couch. Starcrowe slammed shut the door and stood there, panting.
“Bad trip, dude?” asked the kid on the couch.