Meanwhile at Ngong High:
Short of breath and extremely vexed, Miridald stormed out of the security room, a tear bead trailing down her cheek.
Her phone buzzed all of a sudden.
She picked it up in a frenzy, desperate in hope that it would be Edward's abductor.
It was not. Instead, she saw her husband's cute, bespectacled face on the screen-his eyes closed, his smile beaming.
The reminisce-warm and soft-flashed across her mind briefly at the sight of the picture.
It had been their second picnic after getting married. They were so full of laughter and joy, and Edward had just turned three years old a few days prior.
The good old days.
Letting out a sigh, Miridald answered the call, composing herself. "Hey, Heart," Jarold's voice bubbled through from the other end of the line.
Miridald felt something weigh heavy on her heart. Tears threatened to spill.
"So, where are you guys?" he asked, almost exhilarated, fumbling with his keys.
Miridald took in a breath and, with better composure, answered, "Oh, you know?" But her composure broke midway. She fought so hard not to cry.
She finally conceded. "I don't know what I'm doing, Heart." She sniffled, a sensation burning in her nose.
The soft clicking of the door could be heard from Jarold's side.
"I don't even fully know what I'm supposed to be doing." A nervous chuckle escaped her, and Jarold took notice of the pain in it.
He sat down on the rather small, cushioned bench in the foyer and set his briefcase beside him, his earlier avid mood dissipated.
He listened more keenly.
Miridald leaned exhaustedly against a wall. "Why is this happening to us, Jay? Why is this happening to our son?"
A bittersweet smile flashed on Jarold's features. He took in a breath. "I don't know, honey," he admitted. "I don't know." He stood up and focused a blank stare on the oval wall mirror in front of him. "But we'll figure it out. I'm here now. Okay? I'm home."
Miridald wished the words could have had more effect than they actually did at the moment. She really did.
She exhaled.
"So, where are you now, Heart?" Jarold asked.
She pushed off the wall, whipping a brief, somber look toward Renee in the security room.
Renee was grim. Unceremoniously stringent as she discussed Edward's retrieval with the now over-perilous detective-the guilt-ridden, soft-natured, plump security guard standing anxiously at a corner in the room, reevaluating his life.
The school had a very strict policy about sleeping at work.
"I'm at NpB Park with Renee," Miridald finally answered, turning away from the door and pacing about in the hallway. She stopped, looked down in thought. "Thought we could take a breath or two outside the estate."
"Oh," Jarold exclaimed. "So Edward didn't come back yet?"
And there it was-the question she had been most dreading at the moment.
"Um..." she stumbled for the words, but they kept tumbling out of her mouth.
"No, mom! We're not going anywhere!" Anita's hollering reverberated through the hallway from the adjacent one.
It startled Miridald by its suddenness.
She blinked, then remembered she was on the phone. "Um, Heart..."
But before she could finish, she looked up to the sound of thumping footsteps advancing toward the hallway.
Anita marched into sight with hot fury and defying grace-all frowned up and unhinged as her mother chased desperately after her-a stark letdown on her features.
Mdachi followed suit after them, his expression rather blasé and encrypted, his lips pressed firmly into a rigid line.
"Anita," Jenevive hissed lowly through gnashing teeth as she hastened after her, arm stretched out to catch hers.
She caught it, and flipped her backwards with an immediate whirl.
Anita's hair slapped her face-full, long, and glossy-blinding her a bit as she stumbled back for balance.
She steadied, then threw her hair backwards with an aggressive flip before switching sharply back to her mom. "NO!" she bellowed.
"I'll call you back," Miridald finished and cut the call before Jarold could protest.
He had caught all of what had just happened and was now quite curious.
He even wondered if Miridald was at the park as she had stated. The resonance of sounds suggested otherwise.
"What's going on?" Miridald asked, almost exasperated.
Renee and the detective emerged from the room.
"Auntma, I need to know what happened to Edward," Anita said, advancing toward Miridald, her eyes meek, her demeanor not.
There was something in the way she spoke that hinted at leveraging Miridald's guilt for what had happened earlier in the afternoon.
But Miridald wasn't budging. She could ask more of hers-and everybody else's-forgiveness later. Right now, she needed her and Mdachi back home, safe. Safe from maniacs like the one who had abducted Edward under the flagrant scrutiny of the surveillance cameras-smiling wretchedly like a deranged devil as he hauled Edward out of the school over his shoulders.
Scumbag!
Miridald didn't care to know why-at least not at the time-but she swore to make the heinous white bastard pay for his atrocity.
To PAY.
"Auntma, please," Anita begged on, rather demanding.
Miridald looked her dead in the eyes, face like thunder. "No," she dragged out brutally.
Dynamite went kaboom! "Now is not the time for you guys to man up and be the bigger people, to be the adults!"
"Enough!" Jenevive intervened before Renee could, attempting to pull Anita back by the arm.
Anita pried her arm from her mom's grasp with an aggressive hitch.
She looked her in the eyes, sinister. "If you want some, mom," Anita seethed, "don't worry, I have a bundle of it saved up for you once we get back home."
Jenevive recoiled with a grimace. The nerve!
"Anita," Renee tried to step in coolly.
Anita turned to her. "And you; another backstabbing multi-skinned snake."
Renee almost staggered backwards. What?!
"Excuse me," Anita uttered with impaling disdain as she made her way past the people and into the security room.
The detective watched her with an unmistakably amused expression as she cataclysmed past him-the security guard now a shaking charity case riddled with absolute, undiluted fear. He knew Anita-she was famous, one might say-and that was not going to make it any easier for him, if not anvil-heavy difficult. A predicament. One that he brought upon himself.
The detective sneered before pushing off the wall with one final thought: "What vigour. What influence. What b-rattiness!"
He wished he'd had a bit of that growing up. He would have conquered the world by now.
"Um," he began to Miridald, shifting the toothpick in his mouth to the side. "I'll go now and start with the rescue mission operation for your son, as Miss Renee instructed."
Mdachi and Jenevive frowned. "What rescue mission?" they blurted out in harmony.
Miridald finally let go of Renee's wrist. She had been holding onto her ever since Anita's fit and storming into the security room.
She composed herself, ready to speak, but Renee beat her to it.
"Edward was kidnapped here at school," she began rather bluntly, "by an unidentified Caucasian man in a tuxedo."
The two querents ran short of words. Ran short of comprehension.
Mdachi's eyes began glistening, his breathing raced frantically.
"The man seemed..." Renee continued. She looked in between their eyes before uttering it. "PECULIAR."
Shabam! Just what they needed to hear. Just what they needed to get started figuring out with everything going on.
"I'll see myself out and keep you posted from time to time about the case," the detective uttered, turning to leave.
Renee stopped him. "Wait!"
He stopped and turned back to her.
Mdachi zoomed into the security room without warning.
Renee looked back at the detective. "We are coming with you. You really just don't expect us to sit back and-"
"Renee," Miridald placed a hand on her shoulder.
Renee looked back at her.
"Let him do his work."
Renee's features scrunched.
"Please," Miridald continued. "I have something really important to tell you, so can you just..." She gestured to retreat back with a tip of her head.
Renee was still baffled.
"Please."
She obliged.
Jenevive watched in wonder.
The detective took it as his cue to withdraw.
"Seriously, Miri. What's up with you? Why would we-"
Miridald covered her mouth.
She withdrew her hand.
The detective was just turning a corner into another hall, his whistles resounding throughout the space.
Miridald looked back into Renee's eyes with sudden sternity. "Make sure you assuage him of this case, and everything else he's fixated on with us." Her tone matched her fierce eyes.
Renee was a bit bemused, Jenevive similarly.
"It's exactly what you think I'm telling you to do," Miridald elaborated. Her voice shook slightly.
Jenevive's brows furrowed.
Renee's eyes widened-shocked.
"We don't have the time and patience to deal with him right now," Miridald begged. "Palliate it. Please. At least for now."
Renee gave a resolute nod.
Miridald felt grateful.
Renee turned on her heels.
With an all-of-a-sudden, blurring whsssh, she zoomed out of sight, leaving behind fleeting golden streaks.
Jenevive almost toppled backwards from the shock.
Miridald knew exactly what she was thinking. "Relax. She's not a werewolf."
Jenevive couldn't help but bulge her eyes even wider. Werewolves didn't even move that fast. And they didn't leave-
"Do you have any of Edward's belongings?" Miridald asked from the blues. "Anything that belongs to him?"
---------------
Edward was still a bit fuzzy-headed as they careened their way through the thick, nearly dark forest—occasionally being tripped, or having to evade being tripped, by protruding roots, large rocks, and "thoughtfully buried under the leaf-carpet" ground vines. This was while having to occasionally dodge an undue number of trees on their path from time to time.
His feet were almost numb from all the running, and his legs - though wearing jeans - tired of being scratched by the pricky forest's undergrowth.
His breathing was ragged, and the air burned along the trachea.
A part of him wished he had worn more sporty shoes.
When he had finally had enough, he stopped, yanking his arm from Edric's.
Edric ploughed into an immediate halt a few meters ahead, whirling back toward Edward with a sharp spin, his breathing huffy.
"We need to keep moving, Edward. We are almost there," he urged.
Edward leaned on his knees, resting a bit as took in some breaths.
He straightened up. "Why are you helping me?" he asked, advancing toward Edric, his breathing still rugged.
Edric was uneasy as he looked back in the direction they had come from. It was a bit dark considering the sun's setting, but he would have still been able to catch sight of their pursuers if they were, in fact, right behind them.
There was nothing—at least not at the time.
"We really don't have time for this, Edward," he said with intensified urgency. "We need to go." He reached out to grab Edward's arm.
"No!" Edward demurred, pulling his arm away and stepping back.
He looked toward the backtrack.
"Why are you helping me?" he asked again, turning back to Edric, his voice amiably inquisitive as before.
Edric shook with anxiety and irritation. He kept stealing quick glances toward their departed direction, his hand resting unsteadily on his hip as his other pinched the bridge of his nose. He was sweating—and he was sweating buckets.
"Edward, please," he implored, trying not to let his agitation seep through.
Edward stepped further back, more stubborn, more cynical. "No," he muttered, almost terrified. "Am not going anywhere with you until you tell me why you're helping me." He looked at Edric with more scrutiny, up to down. "Who even are you, Edric? Is that even your name?-"
"Edward—"
"What are you? How can you move rocks and the earth? How can you cure and ease pain?" He looked at his arm, the lower part. The marks were still there, still fresh, but the pain—the nerve-biting, bone-corroding pain—had vanished just after Edric's touch on the spot. Just like how he had done with his shoulder blade.
Edward knew magic. Sure, he had practiced it for the most brevity of time, but he knew how it felt, how it flowed, and definitely—even if it was just a bit—how it worked.
This was not magic. Edric was not a warlock.
He looked deep into his eyes. "Edric, tell me who you are this instant and what your objective is in all of this."
Edward swallowed.
Edric was terrifyingly anxious.
"Tell me why you helped me escape those bloody rogues and where it is you're taking me!"
"Edward," Edric tried to be as assuring as possible, taking an apprehensive step toward him. "Am not out for your blood, but they are—"
Edward took a step back. He was not buying it.
Edric took another step forward, and before Edward could realize, he lunged and grabbed him by the wrists.
Edward was so startled his eyes almost popped out.
"Edward listen to me," Edric spoke hastily, looking into Edward's eyes with sincerity. Edward tried to resist, but Edric's hold was formidably firm and rigid. "I really don't want, and wouldn't dream, of hurting you, okay?" He swallowed, glancing back at the particular direction. "I saw you being hauled into their car back at school. I was there and happened to see it. You were unconscious. I got suspicious. So I followed them, and when I realized that they were really malignant and up to no good, I attacked - when the time was right."
Edward's heart hammered, his mind twisting in disarray. He didn't know if the panicking boy in front of him was really being genuine or just manipulative, siphoning the utter vulnerability he was in to drive the course of his disguised motives.
"Edward please listen to me. We need to move. Okay?" He took another gander. "Am not some kind of fiend of theirs trying to claim you as the prize. Am not out to hurt you. I just want to help. Because I must. Because—"
His attention darted to the direction again. It was too late—Edward just had to take his word for it. No more time left for convincing.
Edward saw it too. The harrowing creature—loping on all fours with great ferocity and bloodcurdling swiftness.
It was like knowing you are in a nightmare and not being able to wake up—no matter what you did.
Edric snapped to Edward. "Do you trust me?"
Edward hesitated. But looking at the nearing hound, he conceded. "Yes."
Edric wasted no time. He grabbed Edward by the side, dipped back, and sprang forward, launching fiercely into the sky with great litheness.
As they soared higher to the trees' canopies and drifted past them, Edward couldn't help but look down to see the earlier werewolf—halted—staring jadedly at them as they flew over it.
He looked further back and noticed other werewolves—about a dozen or so— inching in from behind the staring one. Just as menacing, vicious, and determined.
"Hold on!" Edric suddenly announced—the wind gushing against their faces. "This is going to hurt." He mumbled the last part.
Edward caught it. "Wh—"
But before he could respond, he was suddenly wrenched and hurled into a particular direction—the one they had been advancing toward earlier while running.
The scene played out in slow motion: him falling backwards with flailing hands—terror-stricken face; Edric falling back in the opposite direction, parabola shortened, and lips consistent with an irking side smile.
The wind grazed past him - raw, thick, and continous - leaving him for the cold as fear permeated his entire being.
Edward had seen death one too many times that day, but with each time he saw it, he couldn't help but feel unimaginable despair—a horror that danced at the tip of its roller-coaster, taunting him from time to time again.
The green leaves brushed past him as he sank back into the lush sea of canopies—the clarity of the newborn night sky with tenderly twinkling stars obscuring.
For an intruding, "all out of the blue" moment, Edward felt the entity of his being invaded and ousted from his body.
It vanished as quickly as it came, and he felt himself being tackled from the front with a ramming force.
He looked up to see Edric's face. He had had him tucked under his arm with a firm grip—just like when over the road.
Edward's heart flipped with joy. He was not going to die anyway—not this time, not with Edric around.
With absolute abruptness, Edric flipped him into an inward-facing position across his chest and accolled him there tightly.
Edward was too stunned to even do anything.
And then, with some kind of mind-twisting expertise, Edric dodged a huge obstructing tree on his path before continuing to glide—just as smoothly—down toward the ground.
He flipped himself to his back and crouched a bit when they had neared enough.
The landing came, and it came hecticly.
His feet touched surface and dragged back shearingly with a shrilling scrape.
It stopped.
Edric put Edward down.
Edward staggered a bit before finding his balance.
He stood steady and eyeballed Edric. "How do you do that?"
His agility was too far good for someone who just manipulated the earth.
"Hurting?" Edric asked, pointing to Edward's arm. They were in a slightly open space between the trees.
"No." Edward grimaced.
"Good." He set himself up into a stance. "Now stick close; fight's about to end." His accent crisped out. Edward had not noticed it before—he had been too disheveled to.
As they waited, Edward kept gawking at Edric's shoes.
Edric caught him from the corner of his eyes. "What?" he asked, half amused, still in his absurd stance.
"Nothing." Edward raised his shoulders. "Just wondering how your shoes could take that much friction."
"Will buy new ones."
"Why did you throw me like that?" Edward suddenly asked.
"Needed a decoy to split the fronts."
Edward frowned.
"Buried one back there," Edric explained. "The one you saw."
So there were more of them? More of the "fronts"?
How many of them were there? How many of them were coming after him? So desperately—so fixated.
Was he really that important for them to kill?
Why?
"Hey," Edric caught his sad expression. "It will be over soon. Okay?"
Edward nodded aggressively, wiping off his tears.
"Now buckle up. This is gonna be bloody."