Excerpt: Double Helix

Lewis popped his knuckles in an unnecessarily derisive manner. Allen cringed just as he turned to see the Agnican guard's fist in the air, a fraction of a second away from connecting with Lewis' bad eye.

But it was like he watched in slow motion—how Lewis took a casual step back out of range as the Agnican inexplicably stumbled for balance, and then fell. Blood spattered down the sides of his neck, and he gave a pathetic moan before Lewis cockily put a foot on his face and ground the guard's head into the pavement. He never took his hands from his pockets, his grin now permanent and maniacal, even more terrifying to his partner than his laugh had been.

It too came back now, a little more drawn out but no less mirthful than before.

A hand seized Allen's shoulder. He struggled to get away until cold gunmetal was pressed against his ear. His eyes were fixed on Lewis, who still seemed to be enjoying the massive mutilation of the Agnican's face he was inflicting. There were streaks of blood across the ground, face an unidentifiable mass of pulped red and flecks of pebbles and filth from the asphalt. He finally looked up, kicking the body away from him.

“Freeze, or—” The Agnican behind Allen too had to check his footing, before Allen practically heard the blood gush from his ears, and fall backwards away from him, in a daze.

Only then did Lewis direct his attention to his partner. “Are you okay?” he asked.

“Y-Yeah.”

Both simultaneously turned to the remaining Agnican, but he threw up his arms and dropped his gun in an instant, backing away. “Don't hurt me, I'll do anything—”

Lewis held out a hand to stay him. “Were these your friends, sweetness? Are you upset that they're dead?”

“Yes, sir—” he stuttered.

“Do you want them back?”

He now was unable to reply because of his shaking voice, only nodding rapidly.

“I can let you join them,” Lewis said dangerously, slowly moving his hand back towards his body before thrusting his palm toward him, and—Allen had to blink in shock—the other guard slammed into the brick wall of the building that was a good six feet behind him.

“Holy...” Allen began, putting a hand to his mouth, but the following expletive he uttered was drowned out by more of Lewis' terrifying laughter.

“Don't worry, friend,” he told the Agnican, advancing on him. “You won't suffer long.”

Another flick of his hand set this adversary bracing himself against the wall to stop from leaning in a loss of equilibrium, but Lewis pulled him down roughly, placing a foot on the back of his skull. “Sorry, watch your step,” he said loudly, the in another incredibly fast movement, moved his foot and slammed him back up against the wall without touching him any further. Blood tricked from the guard's nose, his forehead had been stripped of skin, and his mouth gaped in vain to get air, but another blow from Lewis—no, still without making physical contact—snapped his mouth closed and he whimpered in pain as blood now flowed from his mouth, and he spat out what Allen could only guess was a fragment of his own tongue.

He had to look away at the point, clutching his stomach.

But he still could hear Lewis, speaking lowly and in an almost seductive tone—“Can you still hear me? No, I suppose not. I apologize, but I'm just not good enough to spare my opponents' hearing, it's just a little too rough for your sorry Linnish ears.”

There was another sickening wham, of the guard being flung to the ground. Allen made the mistake of looking back: directly at the Agnican's decimated face, with a spurt of blood shot across the road in front of him. Allen had to turn away again, and this time couldn't stop himself from retching.

He took a deep breath, clamped his eyes shut, and went to look for Lewis, but he had a hand on his shoulder before he could react. He fell back half a step.

“What a pussy,” Lewis scolded him. But he was smiling. He offered a hand—his murderous but completely clean hand—and Allen took it and allowed him to pull him to his feet. He immediately pulled a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his mouth off—God, he thought, aware that his face was either dead pale or obviously a bright pink—that was probably the most embarrassing that could have happened to him in front of Lewis.

But aside from that comment Lewis paid it no heed, thumping him hard on the shoulder blade. “Let's head back, all right?”

He nodded, still vainly trying to hide his face from Lewis in his shame. Thankfully Lewis didn't mind him trailing a few paces behind, and didn't offer to slow or otherwise help him other than a “Sure you're okay?” moments later.

It only just occurred to Allen what had happened. But he didn't trust himself to get the words out right, so he kept the observation to himself.

That was sonokinesis.