The Conflict

Lightning stuffed her hands in her brown, fur-lined bomber jacket and kept her head low. Her eyes didn’t quite meet those of the tall, white-haired woman before her. “I told you, I need a delay.”

Gilda was taller than her, with eyes possessing the sharpness of a hawk. The water dripping down her crossed arms and off her elbows accentuated thick muscles. Her voice was raspy as she coolly answered, “I’ve given you delays. Five months’ worth of them. I’m sick of your delays.”

The smaller woman said nothing. She hunched her shoulders against a cool breeze and glared at Gilda’s combat boots.

“Look, kid, it’s basic economics. You took out a loan, you repay it. I’m not the government; I don’t give out freebies. You said you could pay me back. I trusted you at your word. Fifteen G’s, and I’m barely charging you interest.”

Lightning tensed at the amount, her lips curling in a silent snarl. Her cheeks were pink. “Look, I’m sorry.”

A fist grabbed her t-shirt, jerked her close to the bigger woman’s vicious features. “Sorry doesn’t mean a thing! You’re the one who took out a loan you knew you couldn’t pay back. Because that’s what this is, isn’t it? You thought I was a fucking charity, that I’d just walk away and give all that money up. But that’s not going to happen.”

The hard shove slammed Lightning’s back painfully against the brick wall. She stumbled, righted herself, and raised her fists.

Gilda thrust a finger in her face. “I’m giving you one more shot, bitch. Get me a payment before week’s end, or I’ll take my payment from you in other ways.”

Lightning grit her teeth, but gave no answer. The older woman stared her down for a few seconds longer before turning away with a huff and stalking off. Within seconds she’d rounded the corner and was out of the alley.

Standing quietly in the rain for a while, Lightning stared towards the road with a seemingly permanent scowl. Had anyone been in the alley with her, they might have noticed the thoughts broiling away behind her eyes. Hands back in her pockets, she headed out of the alley and stalked along the sidewalk. Thunder rumbled overhead as the rainwater soaked her to the bone, the jacket doing little to protect her from the seemingly endless deluge.

She came to a parking lot in front of a strip mall. Continuing over the potholed asphalt towards her bicycle, her eyes took in the stores before falling on a sign that read Arpeggio’s. A restaurant and bar, located at the end of the strip mall. The parking lot was mostly empty save for a trio of cars and one motorcycle that looked like it belonged on a race track.

Lightning’s frown grew more pronounced. She took a step towards the bar, paused, looked around the parking lot. It was just her. Her and the rain. She pulled a hand from her pocket and stared at it, clenching and unclenching her fingers. With a breath not quite a sigh, she turned to the larger of the two trucks, put it between her and the bar, and waited.

Time passed. The rain intensified, let up, nearly stopped at one point. Two vehicles drove in and parked, their drivers headed to the bar. One customer left, a big guy who looked like he wrestled bears for fun. He certainly appeared sober; Lightning kept the big truck between the two of them until he’d gotten into his own and left.

The bar’s door opened. Out strolled a teenager, blue with a ridiculously long ponytail. Given the semi-formal skirt-suit, an employee. Certainly sober. She spoke cheerily back through the door, opened an umbrella, and headed straight for the motorcycle. Lightning’s eyes zeroed in on the blue purse.

Her fist tightened.

“Great, now my butt’s gonna be wet all the way home,” the girl groaned upon reaching the bike. “Stupid Adagio, not letting me use her car. I hate riding Ria’s bike.” Pouting, she opened the small box on the back of the motorcycle and made to put her purse inside.

“Hey.”

The woman turned around, blinked up at Lightning. “Huh?”

Gamboge eyes narrowed over a scowl. “Gimme the purse.”

It took less than a second for understanding to dawn in the girl’s face. She turned sideways, placing her body between Lightning and the purse. “What? No. I’m not doing that.”

“Yes, you are.” Lightning’s fist rose between them. “Right now.”

The blue woman took in the fist and Lightning’s serious face, her own slowly losing confidence. In a manner that was probably meant to be subtle, she began to reach into the purse—

A hand whipped out, caught her by the throat. “Don’t.” The fist pulled back.

The girl swallowed. Slowly, so very slowly, she pulled her hand out of the purse. No, not a hand; a fist, clutching something.

Lightning’s eyes caught the faintest hint of red. Her attention honed in on it. “What’s that? Give it to me.”

The teenager’s pupils dilated. She tried to back away, but Lightning’s fingers on her throat and the bike behind her prevented it. “N-no. Not that. You can take the purse, okay? Just not—”

Lightning lunged, catching the small wrist. The girl screamed, tried to pull away, slapped at Lightning’s arm. “No, please no! You can’t!” She ripped her arm out of Lightning’s grasp and pulled whatever she was holding close to her chest. A cry was on her lips as she turned to the bar.

A fist impacted her gut.

Eye boggled as tears beaded. Lips gasped for air. The teen collapsed to her knees as her umbrella dropped to the asphalt. Her arms wrapped around her stomach, but still she clutched the item. A plastic bag.

“Stupid girl.” Lightning grabbed the bag, but the teenager refused to release it. She tried to pull it away, nearly ripping the plastic while her victim mouthed voiceless pleas. “Damn it, let go!” Lightning pressed her shoe against the girl’s shoulder and kicked.

As the teenager splashed backwards into a waterlogged pothole, the bag finally escaped her grip. Lightning held it up to what little light the rainy, cloud-covered sky could offer and took in a dozen tiny ruby shards. Still scowling, breathing heavy, she studied her find. The rubies were dull, the sharp edges suggesting a shattering of some kind.

When she lowered the bag, her eyes landed on the bar. Through the windows was a single face, puke green with a pair of wide, black eyes.

“Shit.” She looked down at her sobbing victim, who was trying to stand. She hurried to kick the girl back down, then made a grab for the purse. The girl was laying on top of it. When she couldn’t get it away after a tug or two, Lightning instead reached in to grab the first thing her fingers touched. Then she speed-walked away, stuffing the bag and item in her jacket pocket. The girl was hidden by the rain by the time Lightning heard her calling. She ducked into an alley, stood behind a trash can, and waited.

The girl didn’t pass. After a while, she heard the sound of a motorcycle starting up. When the sound of its roar faded away, she pulled out the item. It was a wallet. Stuffing it back into her pocket, she took out the bag of ruby shards and peered at it.

“You better be worth more than you look.”

The garage door was open, revealing empty space. Lightning chained her bicycle to the mailbox.

After gathering the mail, she trudged through the rain, jerked open the screen door and gave the main door a kick in the spot where so many old and new scratches marred the paint. It swung open with no resistance at all. She marched into a kitchen with a floor missing a third of its tiles, a sink spilling over with dirty dishes, and a heavily stained table with five chairs, no two of the same design and all looking like they couldn’t hold a kitten, much less a teenager Lightning’s size. She slapped the mail on the table and went to open a drawer near the ancient, battered oven. It was empty. Scoffing, she eyed the stains on the towelette on the counter for a couple seconds. She turned back to the table, still soaked, and began sorting through the mail.

Bill. Bill. Sales ad. ‘You’re pre-approved for a $500,000 loan!’ “God, these people must think we’re stupid.” Another bill. A truck magazine; she tucked that under her arm.

Her hands hesitated when they held up an envelope from a rehabilitation clinic. She ripped it open, pulled out the letter, skipped the technical details. Her shoulders sagged when she spotted four words in large, bold print: ‘Debt paid in full.’

She let out a long, slow breath. Nodding to herself, she let the envelope and letter fall to the table. Eyes closed tight, she pinched her nose and sighed. Then did it again. Rain pattered loudly on the kitchen window. Had she opened her eyes just then, she might have noticed the roach skittering fearlessly over the dirty plates in the sink.

Lightning left the kitchen and entered the living room. Ugly brown carpet crunched under her sneakers. A TV that might have been older than she was sat in the corner, turned off. Two leather recliners, both covered in food stains, faced it. The large window was hidden by curtains, but she could still detect the outline of the bars on the outside. Her eyes went to the nearest recliner, accompanied by a fresh scowl. Then they fell on the table between the two chairs.

She hissed at the sight of a pair of empty syringes, plungers down. A rubber band and a swab was nearby.

Lightning swung her fist sideways. The wall rattled with the impact.

Magazine dumped on the table, she stomped into the hallway. Past the towering display case with its many trophies, past the autographed baseball bat hanging on the wall, past the first closed door. She entered a bedroom at the end of the hall, the walls covered in posters of rock bands and fighter planes. It was the cleanest room in the house so far. She dumped the ruby shards out of their bag and onto the computer desk, followed by the wallet.

After the bag was tossed in her small garbage pail, her eyes went to the alarm clock on the floor next to the futon. “Ah, fuck.”

At a fast walk, she went back to the living room and snatched up the needles, rubber band and swab. She swung open the back door under the stairs and dumped them in the trash bin just as the sound of a truck engine arose from the garage. “Ah, fuck.” Back inside, to that closed door in the hallway. She reached for the doorknob, hesitated.

The truck engine died, and she pushed the door open. “Mom, you gotta get up. He’s home.”

The room was dark. It was mostly taken up by a queen-sized bed. Her mother lay on her back, hidden in the shadows. Lightning grit her teeth and kicked the woman’s bare foot. “Damn it, get up!” No response. Clenching her fists, Lightning crawled on top of the bed. “I swear to God. Mom!”

Blank eyes stared at the ceiling.

Lightning paused. Took in the blank visage before her. Old bruises against lightly tanned skin were visible even in the shadows.

“Mom?”

Her finger snapped in front of the eyes. There was no response. She gave the woman’s shoulder a shake, to the same effect. Finally, slowly, she pressed her fingers against the exposed neck. They held there for two seconds. Five.

A loud voice called through the house. “Jewel? Where are you, woman?”

Lightning pulled away, climbed off the bed. Her back pressed against the wall as she gazed, wide-eyed, at the body. Breaths came in sharp gasps as her hands rubbed together again and again.

“Jewel! Damn it, your bastard is bad enough running wild out there, the least you could do is answer me when I call.”

Lightning’s eyes went to the door. To the body. The door again. Heavy footsteps came closer.

She rushed out the room, nearly running into the tall man. He blinked down at her, uncomprehending. She barely spared him a second before making a break for her room. It slammed shut behind her. The lock clicked. She shoved open the closet door, pulled out a suitcase and began stuffing it with frantic speed. The items thrown in were random – clothes, CDs, an old toy fighter jet. Her hands grabbed whatever they came across in a frantic rush of instinct and desperation.

A sound arose from the hall, something between a startled cry and a gasp.

Then came the shout. “Lightning Dust, what did you do?”

Her head shot up as something slammed against the bedroom door. Tears beaded over her open, panting lips.

“Open the door! You open the door right now, you little bitch! Take what’s coming to you! This is your fault, you hear me? This is your fault!”

The footsteps pounded away. Lightning, fists tight at her sides, let out a snarl and looked around. The window had bars. To the futon, to the closet, to the suitcase. Her lungs pumped, making every breath a heave. Thunder bellowed. Somewhere beyond the door, glass shattered.

Lightning hurried to the desk, dropped to her knees and pulled the bottom drawer all the way out, tossing it aside. Underneath where it had been was a set of screwdrivers. She grabbed one without looking, rushed to the window, threw back the curtains.

Something began to bang against the door. “I’m gonna make you pay for her, bitch. You hear me? I’m gonna make you hurt every day for the rest of your miserable life!”

The window slid up. Rain, now a heavy downpour, re-soaked her already wet face. She pressed her cheek to the metal, straining and failing to see under the sill. Trembling fingers felt along the metal, found the screws, guided the screwdriver into place.

The banging kept going. Again and again, something slamming in a steady, heavy rhythm. The cracking wood was louder than the thunder.

“I’m coming in,” snarled the creature outside the door. “I’m coming in.”

Bang.

“I’m coming in.”

Bang.

“I’m coming in!”

Crack.

The first screw came loose. Shaking her head in a futile attempt to get water out of her eyes, Lightning felt for the next one.

“What the—? Get away from that window!”

She looked back. There was a hole through her bedroom door. His arm was trying to push through, grasping for the doorknob and its lock. She scrambled for the next screw.

With a loud ping, the screwdriver struck the bar and tumbled from her fingers. She shouted, grasped. Too late; her salvation was lost to the thick, unkempt grass.

The banging resumed.

With a furious snarl, Lightning stood and kicked at the bar. It twisted, and the sudden movement nearly made her tumble sideways. Gasping, she kicked again, and again. Each hit moved the bar a little further along. She tried to kick faster than the banging behind her.

“You can’t get out of what you’ve done!”

The bar bent, swayed. Lightning grasped it in both hands and found it now turned aside easily. She moved forward, twisted to get her shoulders through the gap—

Her eyes fell upon the desk. Upon the ruby shards. They glowed red, the color dark like blood. She stared, wide-eyed, as the pieces began melding together. A second or two of motion, of faint scratching sounds, and then the ruby was whole again. It continued to emit its own faint glow.

Another bang pulled her out of the dazed staring. She cast a look at the door – the hole was much larger – and again to the ruby. Swearing under her breath, she pulled out of the window and hurried to the desk. Her hand grasped the gem—

Lightning shrieked.

Collapsing to her knees, she stared through pain-narrowed eyes as the ruby burned like fire against her palm. Fingers clawed at the pulsating gem as she cried out again and again. No amount of effort could stop the thing from sinking into her flesh.

It ended as quickly as it had begun. Lightning doubled over, holding her hand to her chest and heaving sharp breaths. Tears dripped from her eyes as one last resounding crack of broken wood filled her ears. The gem now embedded in her hand glowed bright.

“I told Jewel when I married her to get rid of you, but no, she just had to keep you around.”

Tears welled in Lightning’s eyes. She pulled back her trembling hand to stare at the puckered flesh surrounding the ruby. There was no sign of any burning.

“Well now mommy dearest isn’t alive to protect you, is she? She’s gone and it’s all your fault.”

The gem pulsed to his words. Fingers clenched. Her lips pulled back to reveal grit teeth.

“And now it’s finally time for you to get what you deserve!”

She looked over her shoulder. He was right behind her, arms raised and autographed baseball bat poised to swing at her head. With a furious roar, she turned and thrust her ruby-embedded hand for his arm.

Red light burst, filling the room. Adult and teenager cried out in tandem. Lightning tried shielding her face, only to realize the light was coming from her palm. Staggering back, landing in a sitting pose, she held the ruby as far from her as she could… but kept it aimed at him. Her eyes were clenched closed, which did little against the brightness.

The glow faded behind her eyelids. All was quiet, interrupted only by the steady murmur of the rain through the window. Something thudded to the floor. Lightning opened her eyes.

He stood in the middle of her room, right where she’d last seen him. His arms hung limp at his sides, baseball bat lying forgotten on the floor. His face was blank, his pupils shrunk to pinpricks as he gazed at nothing.

Lightning stared at him for some time, tense and slightly hunched. Then, slowly, she stood. She waved her hand in front of his face and earned no reaction at all. Tapping his shoulder, flicking his nose, and shouting in his face fared no better. She examined the ruby in her palm before tentatively calling, “Old man?”

The tiny pupils shifted to her. “Yes, Lightning Dust?”

She jumped back, arms raised in a defensive pose. He only stared through her. Not relaxing, she asked, “Why’d you stop attacking me?”

In an eerie monotone, he asked, “Would you like me to attack you?”

“No!”

“Then I will not.” And he was back to staring at the wall over her shoulder. His fingers gave faint twitches.

She straightened her posture, but maintained a wary pose. Another glance at her ruby. Cautiously, she said, “Give me the bat.”

He bent down, picked up the bat, then offered it to her without a word. She took it from him with a jerk, and he offered no resistance at all. She held it in both hands, set her feet apart, reared the bat for a swing…

Nothing. He just stood there.

Fingers clenched tight around the handle. For a long moment, her visage became one of ferocious fury, her breaths growing deeper and deeper. She repositioned, checked the wall, wound up again.

She looked into his eyes. There was nothing there. No anger, no hate. No attention to her or anything else. They were blank eyes. Lifeless eyes.

The bat fell to the floor. “You’ll do whatever I want?”

The monotone came without hesitation. “Of course, Lightning Dust.”

Perplexed, she tentatively ordered, “Then, uh… go do the dishes?” He turned and left the room at a sedate pace, not so much as glancing at the damaged door. “Huh.”

She studied the gem. The open window and the rain. As the kitchen faucet turned on, she went to her mother’s room and took in the body lying on the bed. She stared at it for a long, long time. Emotions drifted across her face; pain, anger, loss, confusion, regret. Mostly disappointment.

Wet, uncertain eyes closed. She heaved a long, slow breath. When her eyes opened again, they were steely.

After wiping her face clean, she marched into the kitchen. He was busy trying to scrub the mold out of a pot with a soapy sponge. The water ran hot, splashing against the pile of dishes. Perhaps half of it actually made it into the sink’s drain.

“Hey, old man.”

He stopped scrubbing at once, turning to face her. His witless stare went over her head. “Yes, Lightning Dust?”

“Cut me a check. Fifteen thousand dollars.”

“Yes, Lightning Dust.”

While he trudged for the study – leaving the faucet on as he did – she went back to her room. Snatching up the wallet, she poured through its contents until she pulled out a card. A driver’s license, complete with address.

“Alright, ‘Sonata’.” Lightning smirked at the gem and its faintly pulsing glow. “Let’s see if you’ve got anymore treats for me.”

The unlocked front door of the three-storey house opened with a faint click of the latch. Lightning grinned and tossed the wallet over her shoulder before walking inside.

The place looked every bit as nice on the inside as it did on the outside. Hardwood floors, tall windows, intricately ornate furniture. The walls had a certain Mediterranean vibe going on with its dark-stained pillars and off-white pink paint. There was even a genuine wood-burning fireplace in the living room made from dark gray stone. Lightning stared at everything around her and whistled appreciatively.

Her eyes went to a large painting on one wall. She licked her lips. On a decorative table to her left was some kind of white statue, the bust of a woman with large, poofy hair. Lightning tentatively reached out as if to grab it… then saw the ruby in her hand. She closed her fingers and turned away.

The search began. Every drawer and cabinet was opened, paintings were torn off walls, furniture knocked over. She went into the empty garage and dumped tool chests. There was a library, and she cast aside every book, occasionally flipping through a few. Her face was a mask of determination.

Upstairs, she found her first bedroom. It had to be the teen’s, given the closet had at least four variants of the kind of skirted suit she’d been wearing when Lightning mugged her. The bed was practically buried under a mountain of stuffed toys, most of them fish, dolphins or other water-based animals. Lightning gave the room only the quickest, most minimal of searches and didn’t damage anything.

The second bedroom had to belong to a sibling, and one with very different tastes. There was weightlifting equipment, the room was decorated in deep purples, and there were weapons hanging from plaques on the walls. Real weapons; the longsword sliced painfully into Lightning’s fingertip when she gave it an experimental tap. She sucked on the small cut and smiled. She was very careful in her search of this room, especially around the pointier things.

The last bedroom was on the third floor and locked; nothing the generous application of a heavy little statue couldn't fix. It was also notably larger than the prior ones. The immaculately made bed could have fit six people, and the walk-in closet was as big as Lightning’s bedroom, though surprisingly sparse on clothes. The bedroom might have reeked of opulence… once, but bed aside it was far too sparse to maintain the image. It had nothing; no vanity, no cabinets, no desk. Aside from the bed, an end-table and a mirror it was downright spartan.

It was here that Lightning found her prize. On an end-table with a picture of three young women – one blue with an absurdly long ponytail – lay the shards of another broken ruby sitting out in the open where any would-be thief might spot them. Lightning opened her palm and compared the complete gem in it to the shards and saw that they matched perfectly in color. But while the gem in her hand pulsed lightly to its own unheard beat, the shards on the end table were inert.

Carefully, she brushed the shards into her other hand, then spent a moment looking from them to the intact ruby. “So why did you fix yourself?” she whispered to the gem, then to the shards, “And how do I make you do the same?”

She spent some time puzzling over this, interrupted only by the rain against the windows and the occasional peal of thunder. Her head rose, eyes lightning up as she examined the massive bed. “If the kid had one, and you have one, then…”

Pocketing the shards, she hurried downstairs and back to the bedroom with all the sharp, pointy implements that looked like they belonged in the Dark Ages. She was every bit as cautious in her search now as she’d been before, but she tried being more thorough. In pillows, under furniture, tossing out clothes in the closet to check the dark corners. She almost started for the weapons on their plaques, but hesitated. Her recently-cut finger traced a long line across the smooth, flat side of a katana. She found herself smiling again.

A new sound rose up from downstairs: the garage door. Cursing under her breath, she rushed downstairs, back through the thoroughly trashed kitchen and living room, and out the front door. In less than a minute she was on her bicycle and riding away, glancing back through the rain in time to see the back of an old BMW before the garage door came down.

Lightning kept going for a block. Two. At last, she stopped her bike in a clean park and went to sit under a gazebo. After running fingers through her wet hair and settling at the not-quite-as-wet picnic table, she pulled out the shards and examined them. A few seconds were devoted to uncertain frowning. Lightning pointed the ruby-embedded palm at the shards, expression twisted in concentration.

Her eyes shot wide when a bit of dark red light emerged from the gem. But it wasn’t near as much as she’d managed the first time, and it puttered out after only a second or two. A check on the shards revealed no change at all. She poked and prodded them, turning them about between her fingers. They stubbornly refused to do anything.

She sat there for a time, cheek in hand and intact ruby in her gaze. Her pointer finger tapped against the gem in a slow rhythm. Every now and then a hard wind would blow cold droplets of rain over her, bringing forth shivers.

Abruptly, she slammed her fist against the picnic table, the bang making the gazebo tremble. Grumbling to herself, she pulled a cell phone from her pants pocket, flipped through contacts and hit the call button. It took only a few rings for someone to pick up, during which Lightning pulled out her wallet and checked inside.

Gilda’s voice was cold as ice. “What do you want?”

The check came out, crisp and neatly folded. A quick glance revealed a fifteen with three zeroes behind it. “I got your money.”

“You—? Already? Damn, girl, I gave you a week.”

“Yeah, well, I didn’t need a week.” Lightning carefully tucked the check back in her wallet. “I’m headed to the usual spot right now, if you want it.”

“If this is some kind of trick, I’ll tear your head off.”

“No tricks.” Lightning tilted her head towards the road at the sound of approaching tires. Her lips pursed as a police car sped by, lights flashing. “I can be there in thirty.”

A beat. ”Fine, but you better deliver.” Gilda hung up before Lightning could voice a response.

She glowered at her phone. “Bitch.” Stuffing it back in her pocket, she eyed the shards again. Raising her palm over them, she grit her teeth and tensed. The red glow came forth, brighter and lasting a little longer before blinking out like a faulty lightbulb. The shards remained unchanged. She banged the table again with a snarl, scooped the shards up, and stuffed them in her jacket pocket.

Soon she was back on her bike and making her way through the downpour.

The rain wouldn’t stop coming. Lightning parked her bike near the trash bins behind the cinema and slouched her way to the side of the building. The alleyway blocked some of the wind, allowing her to straighten up a bit. She leaned back against the wall with arms crossed, the heel of her sneaker bouncing against the plaster.

Minutes passed. The world darkened as the clouds overhead grew all the more dense. Lightning’s fingertips rubbed against the ruby, feeling its smooth, warm surface.

Eventually, Gilda arrived from the other side of the alley. She moved at a trot, the pink tips of her white hair plastered against her cheeks. “Damn, this weather sucks,” she grumbled once she was within a few feet. “Show me what you got.”

Lightning wasted no time pulling out the check and handing it over. “There,” she practically spat. “Are you happy now?”

Gilda held a hand over the check, protecting it from the rain, and peered. She blinked, taking in the number. “Damn, you actually did it. I was starting to think—” Her head craned back, then forward again. Her lips slipped into a stern frown. “Wait, did this come from that asshole?” She flipped the check around, then again. Her peering turned on Lightning. “Your old man hates you. Why would he agree to give you the money?”

Lightning’s face twisted, not quite able to avoid a grimace. “That’s none of your business.” Her hand clenched around the ruby.

“It is if the check bounces.” Despite the statement, Gilda folded the check and slipped it into a back pocket. “What did you do, forge it? Am I going to get a call from the police and get arrested for stealing his identity if I cash this?”

Lips peeled back in a snarl. “It’s not a forgery.”

“I have trouble believing you.” Gilda poked her in the arm, hard. “You’ve not exactly been honest with me so far.”

Lightning slapped the hand away, stepping from the wall so that she could properly glare at the taller woman. “I told you I’d pay you back, and I did! Which part of that isn’t honest?”

“You haven’t even paid back the full amount.”

Lips opened, closed. On the second try, Lightning managed to get her voice out. It might have been flaming were it not for the rain. “What the fuck? You gave me fifteen G’s, I’m paying you fifteen G’s!”

Gilda slapped her palm with the back of her hand. “With interest. That’s why people give out loans in the first place, you airhead. Don’t get me wrong, I’m thrilled to get the fifteen G’s back – assuming this is real and not some sick attempt to get out of our deal by framing me for fraud – but it doesn’t mean we’re done.”

Lightning seethed in the rain, shoulders hunched and fists squeezed tight. “Damn it, what more do you want from me?!”

“What you owe, that’s it. But first?” The bigger woman, muscles once again made prominent by the rivulets running down her arms, took a step closer. “We’re going to the bank. Both of us.”

A step back. Lightning’s gamboge eyes turned wary. “What for?”

“Because I’m depositing that check right now, and you’ll be right beside me. That way if it is a forgery, they’ll have you on camera.” Gilda snorted in the teenager’s face. “I’m not letting you have plausible deniability. If this is an attempt to bring me down, I’ll make damn sure you go down with me.” She snatched Lightning’s shirt and started back for the road.

“Get off me, you fuck!” Lightning dug her heels into the concrete, but Gilda easily pulled her forward. “Damn it, let me go! I ain’t gotta go anywhere with you!” She squirmed and kicked and punched at the steely arm to no avail.

“Oh, so you don’t wanna go, huh?” Gilda turned to glare. “Why? Because the check’s a damn fake? Is that what’s going on, faker?”

“Shut up!” Lightning tried kicking Gilda’s leg. The woman easily sidestepped it. She didn’t even have to look down. “Why are you doing this to me?” A red glow started to emanate from her hand. “I’m not going anywhere with you!”

“I knew it.” Gilda’s grabbed Lightning’s jacket and lifted her off the ground, teeth-baring sneer right in the younger woman’s face. “This is all some last minute scheme.”

The gem pulsed. Lightning’s arm twitched. She glared through the rain at that face.

“This is a new low, kid.”

The arm was trembling now. With tension. With energy.

“You thought you could pull a fast one on me? You’re not near clever enough.”

Sneakers kicked at the air fruitlessly. Lightning grasped at the thick arms holding her up. Her eyes drifted to the red glow.

“And now I’m going to educate you about who calls the shots around— Hey!”

Gilda got a face full of red, Lightning’s palm thrust not quite reaching her nose. The bright light engulfed the alley, and Lightning landed clumsily on her feet. Stumbling back, she forced her hand to stay up and aimed, eyes narrowed and teeth grit. A sound like the chime of small bells overrode that of the rain for a second. Two.

The sound and light faded, returning the world to wet gloom. Gilda stared at nothing, her pupils shrunk and her expression void of emotions. The wind and rain plastered a lock of white hair against her face, covering one eye, but she made no move to brush it away.

Lightning moved as if to punch the woman, but stopped short. With a snort, she stepped back. Her words had enough heat to scorch flesh. “Listen up, bitch. You are going to take that check I gave you and you’re going to deposit it.”

Gilda blinked at nothing. “Yes, Lightning Dust.” She started to turn—

“Wait.”

—and faced her again, tiny pupils looking through Lightning’s eyes.

The teenager reached into her jacket pocket, paused as something large brushed against her fingers. A fully intact ruby came out. She stared at it for only a second, shook her head, and thrust it out. “Take this. Get it appraised. Tell me what it’s worth.” Gilda reached out, took the gem—

“Hey!”

Lightning jerked towards the voice, letting out a snarl. At the end of the alley stood a woman in a sleeveless denim jacket. Her head was hidden under a purple motorcycle helmet. “Give that back right now!” Her words were muffled by the helmet, which did nothing to negate their ferocity.

The stranger stalked closer as Lightning grimaced. A glance down showed her ruby starting to glow again. “Who the hell are you?”

The crack of those gloved knuckles was audible even in the rain. Behind the closed visor, eyes promised violence. “You kicked my sister’s ass. Now it’s your turn. But if you give me back the ruby, I might consider going easy on you.”

The whipcord muscle in Lightning’s arms tensed, her hands balling into the familiar, comforting poise of fists. The fingertips of her right hand brushed against the smooth surface of her ruby. “Is that so?” When the stranger was a few short feet away, she stepped forward and raised her hand. “We’ll just see about that.”

Lightning‘s lips curled in a malicious grin as the red glow burst forth. She barely had time to see the newcomer’s eyes widen behind the visor, and then all was crimson.

The light faded, revealing the stranger with her arms raised defensively over her face. When those arms came down, her pupils weren’t small. Her gaze wasn’t unfocused, only confused.

Lightning’s jaw dropped. She looked at the ruby, shook her hand as if to jar it into action. “What the hell? Why didn’t it work this time?”

Movement returned her attention to the stranger. The woman was starting forward, fist pulled back, a muffled cry coming out of the helmet.

“Fine,” Lightning growled, taking a long step backwards. “We’ll do this the hard way. Gilda, take her out!”

Gilda didn’t disappoint; within a second, one of her fists smashed into the front of the helmet, sending the stranger to the concrete. But the woman was already getting up, so Lightning started making her escape. She didn’t even take a full step before her head whipped back to look at the stranger. More specifically, at the stranger’s helmet. Eyes alight and grin swiftly returning, she ran past the fight and out onto the sidewalk.

Even with the heavy rain and fog, the sporty motorcycle stood out, the same one as had been in front of Arpeggio’s. Lightning hurried to it and let out a gleeful chuckle at the sight of keys still in the ignition.

Lightning stood in her mother’s room, staring at the body. It was right where she’d left it. Her fingertips brushed against the gemstone. Her other hand touched the cold skin just below the knee. Lightning’s face was set in a grim frown, her eyes ponderous. The rain pattered on the window, just like it had that afternoon.

Gritting her teeth, she left the room. He was standing in the living room, staring at the front door with his tiny pupils. The kitchen sink was so clean it sparkled in the flickering LED lighting.

“Hey, old man,” she snapped. He turned to her, motions lethargic. “Make arrangements for Mom’s funeral, would you?”

Eyes blinked. Pupils shifted. There was the faintest suggestion of thought behind them. “It is late,” he finally, tonelessly answered. “The funeral homes will be closed.”

Lightning flinched. A trembling, ruby-less hand pressed against her eyes as her lower lip gave the faintest shiver. “Then… Then do it first thing tomorrow.”

“Yes, Lightning Dust.”

“And…” She turned away, waving at the living room. “S-sit down. It’s creepy, you just standing there like that.”

“Yes, Lightning Dust.” He trudged to the nearest recliner and, with careful motions as if wary of harming anything, settled in. Straight backed, eyes forward, hands in his lap, he stared.

Lightning watched him for several seconds, expression growing more and more twisted by the second. At last she went to the garage, careful not to look at the closed door of her mother’s bedroom. She studied the motorcycle, examining its engine, its gauges, its wheels. The pounding rain on the roof was almost enough to hide her sniffle. Eventually, her attention went to the metal box attached to the back of the motorcycle.

Opening it allowed a faint buzzing sound to be heard over the rain. Blinking away the moisture from her eyes, Lightning peered inside. Sonata’s blue purse, and a chain with a padlock. The buzzing was coming from the purse. Rifling through it, she discovered a black cell phone decorated in little orange flowers and purple skulls.

The phone buzzed in her hand. She flipped it to see the screen, which displayed a purple woman with a sour expression. Lightning raised an eyebrow at the pigtails.

Then she noticed the eyes. Familiar eyes. Threatening eyes. She recalled the picture frame that had been sitting next to the shards on the bedside table.

Her finger swiped across the screen. “Who the hell is this?”

“You have something that belongs to my sister and me. I want it back.”

Lightning pulled the phone from her ear to blink incredulously at it. A small smile slipped across her lips. “Damn, did you beat Gilda? Guess all those muscles were just for show.”

“I got the one you stole, and I’ve got my own. You want them, you’ll have to take them.”

Lightning‘s back straightened. She eyed the ruby melded with her palm, tapping it with her forefinger. Shaking her head, focused frown back in place, she declared, “I’ve got my own. What do I need yours for?”

The answer came without hesitation and filled with dark promise. “As long as you’ve got my sister’s, I’m going to chase you. As long as I’ve got mine, I’m immune. I can stop you. I am going to stop you. We can do this now or we can do it later, but it’s going to happen. So what are you, Lightning Dust?” The next words might as well have been spat in her face. “A fighter, or a fucking coward?”

Lightning sucked in a sharp breath, fire blazing in her eyes. Her fist closed around the ruby. “Fine. We’ll do it your way. Name the place. I’ll be there.”

Two minutes later, Lightning was in her room. The window was still open, a puddle having formed between her futon and the desk. She made no move to correct this. Instead she bent down to pick something up off the floor: an autographed baseball bat. She slapped it against her ruby-free palm once, twice, the wood making a satisfying whack both times.

A slow inhale.

An equally long exhale.

Thunder rumbled in the distance. The loose bar creaked in the chill wind. Goosebumps trailed up her arm.

“I’m in control,” she whispered to the storm.

“I’m in control.” Her words were fire, hot and dangerous.

“I’m in control.”

The bat slapped one more time against her palm, the sound mixing with a crack of lightning.