Maybe it's the drinks.

Yeah, that would explain it.

Why else would you stop suddenly? What else could possible explain the cold hand clamping down over your heart, the sweat suddenly breaking out over your brow, slicking your palms and upper lip? Maybe you just had too much - too much of everything - back at the restaurant and you're starting to feel ill. The air in Dunchcaer isn't exactly fresh.

Your friend stops a few paces ahead of you when she realises that you aren't following her anymore. She tilts her head to the side like a curious bird and gives you a half-smile of confusion. She indulged as much as you did, and you know she just wants to get the earliest train home. Neither of you trust yourselves when you're inhibited.

"What's wrong?" she asks.

You shake your head. I don't know.

But you've got to get moving. You're taking up space on the sidewalk, and your friend glances at her watch impatiently. You inhale deeply through your nose and rub your arms. Then you force yourself to take a step forward.

So far so good.

It's slow progress, but you manage to keep going until you've almost completely caught up.

Until that cold, clammy fear slams into your chest again.

You stumble, just a step. A passerby gives you a concerned glance. You wave them past with a weak wave.

That's when you realise that you're standing in front of an alleyway; a strip of black between two old apartment buildings.

You swallow, gazing down into the darkness with a strange growing dread that you don't understand.

Is something down there?

You shiver, discomfort sliding down your spine like ice.

When your friend finally pulls you away, away from the alley and things that might be lurking within, you wonder what would have happened if you had gone in to see.

Like the whisper suggested somewhere in the back of your mind.

***

It's actually a pretty nice night out in Dunchcaer, I think.

All things considered.

It's ten o'clock to be exact, and the moon is a waxing crescent. You can't see the stars out here, but flashing city lights, windows lit up with beckoning signs, make it easy to see the modern and archaic amalgamation called Dunchcaer. The city is all tall buildings of glass and steel that spiral upwards towards the sky, roads choked full with cars, taxis, buses and brave cyclists weaving in an around the hulking metal bodies. The different smells in the air fight for dominance, each one vying for your attention, inviting you to stop and investigate.

Usually it's the sea that you'll notice first, as you step out of the train station - one of the few architectural masterpieces here that has retained its roots of brick and mortar with regal arches, marble-carved statues perched solemnly above its entrances. It's all very scenic.

The smell of brine and seaweed from the harbour is strong all year round. It invades your senses, like the perfume of that beautiful woman you passed on the train to get here. It's even stronger in the hotter seasons, if you can believe it. It rises and seeps through the streets, under gaps in doors and leaky ceilings. The air is humid, sticking my shirt to my skin, and a mosquito buzzes a little to closely to my ear for comfort.

Ah, sweet summer.

It's great when you're not busy in an alley with a teenage abomination trying to, you know, kill you.

I'm not speaking metaphorically either. Everyone knows that teenagers are little monsters and yadda-yadda-yadda. Look, I hear about it enough from my teachers. The point is, I'm stuck with an alley-lurker that is quite intent on taking my head off.

Let me tell you - it's an abomination.

We're talking two more arms than he should have, covered in dubious substances that make him look stretched and shimmering in the pulsing light from a neon sign across the street. They stick out comically from his death metal band shirt, his knees bending awkwardly in too-tight jeans. He doesn't have a face. Not one to really speak of. Just a horizontal mouth the length of his forehead to his chin like a red gash. Yellow, jagged teeth snap wetly at me.

Gross.

We've been at this for a while, you know. Getting good and bloody here in this alleyway, tossing each other against the cement, grinding cheeks into the red-bricked walls standing guard on either side of us.

People pass by us without bothering to look into the darkness, barely illuminated by the city lights. I can only imagine what they think is going on in here. A fight between two homeless bums? Maybe some rowdy cats knocking over empty beer bottles?

If they notice, no one bothers to look.

I'm not exactly in great shape. My right arm is sort of numb, and I don't think I have enough energy to summon up the magic I need to blast this guy back to oblivion. Or whichever hell he's from. I'm not entirely familiar with the complexities of demonology and eldritch monstrosities. That's my brother.

But I digress. The heat is making it hard to keep the sweat out of my eyes and frankly, it isn't all that surprising when a too-long limb slams into my ribs and sends me flying. Air chokes out of my lungs, black spots dancing before my eyes. I don't even realise what's happening until my shoes are off the ground.

The pain, I figure, will come in a minute.

I hit a stack of wooden crates piled haphazardly at the end of the alley with a sickening crash. Wood splinters beneath me, snapping into jagged pieces that dig into my lower back and shoulders. A loose nail scratches a long line of red along my forearm. Damn. If I'm gonna need a shot, I'm gonna be pissed. At myself, mostly. Somewhere at the back of my mind, I remember Alex reminding me to grab a jacket before heading out.

"Ah, damn." I manage.

Concrete meets me in a rush.

My shoulder hits it first, the pain slamming into me with enough force to make the black spots flash red. Then it starbursts all up my left side, which has me thinking: well, it could be worse.

I'm an optimist, if nothing else.

I groan. My ribs creak when I try to prop myself up on my elbow. Blood drips from a cut in my mouth, thick and hot, tracking down my lips and chin. I can taste it - the metal and the salt. I spit it out with a red glob of saliva and it lands just a few inches away from a leather boot tipped with some rather intimidating metal. The thing crouches down so that I'm staring straight at his mouth. A forked tongue flicks out and he cocks his head to the side. I squint.

"Well hi, beautiful."

The creature makes a weird, high-pitched sound which I take as laughter. I can't really tell if it's amused laughter or mocking laughter. Could be both. My head is throbbing wickedly, and I've got a hand pressed to my side because it feels like something might be broken. One of his arms reaches out to touch my face and I almost flinch away.

"You don't look too bad yourself." His voice makes my gums itch. It's like listening to someone running their nails down a chalkboard. "Might look better when I shove your leg down your throat."

"There's no need for that," I say.

"So. You here to get rid of me aren't you?" He laughs and I grit my teeth against the sound. "Yeah, I heard all about you, Kastor Olmos. They said you'd come."

This time, I laugh. Blood goes flying but the thing doesn't seem to mind when it hits his cheek. "Glad to know that my name's getting out there. Do I get to know yours?"

"Sure," the thing reaches up with on of his long arms and claw-tipped fingers. Picks something out between its two front teeth before flicking it out to the side. It looks - and smells - like rotting meat. "E'aughshy." It sounds like vomit. "Or Ethan. You can call me Ethan."

"Right." I try to sit up but every single part of my body protests at even the slightest shift. "Let me just say that this is no way to say hello to someone, Ethan." Ow. Hells.

You know what, there's no way I'm getting my homework done tonight.

"How did you know?"

"Where you were?"

Ethan stands and places a boot on my chest. I barely stifle a grunt of pain. "What I am."

Crap.

I would answer him if I could get the words out. When I first met Ethan, I had didn't actually know he was an alley-lurker. They're everywhere these days, but for the most part, you probably wouldn't know that. Alley-lurkers are fantastic at emulating human appearances.

But eating people tends to give the game up.

"Kastor!"

Oh, thank the heavens. I turn my head in the direction of the new voice in tandem with Ethan. Even without the conventional human features, I can almost see the surprise on him. There's a rush of footsteps coming towards us, an exclamation of shock. Ethan's boot presses down harder and I gasp. He snarls, teeth gnashing, and for a terrifying moment, I don't know for sure if Alex and Eliav are going to make it on time.

Then there's a flash of blue light and Ethan's gone, a puff of smoke the same shade as the flash in his place. The sound of a body hitting a brick wall follows a second later, met with an indignant howl. I give a little hysterical laugh and the shadow of my two brothers fall over my figure. Alex kneels down in front of me, quickly taking in the extent of my injuries, green eyes bright with worry and blond hair mussed. Eliav, dark-haired and doe-eyed makes some inarticulate sounds of concern. Like always, he gets tongue-tied when he's scared.

"It's about time," I say. Or try to. I hack up some bloody phlegm before I finish the last word. Alex frowns deeply.

"Hey," he says softly. "Don't try to move okay? We'll finish it up here."

"Good job on finding him," Eliav adds with a weak smile. Sweet kid. He's never done great with blood and I wave a hand dismissively.

"Just." Cough. "Kick his ass."

Alex pats my knee comfortingly and stands to his feet with Eliav following suit. Somewhere just outside of my peripherals, Ethan curses. Broken glass from discarded beer bottles crunch under his boots. I can't help myself, of course. So despite my aching body and my brother's instruction to not move, I twist around to look.

As always, it's worth it.

Energy crackles at Alex's fingertips. Cerulean, like blue fire. I can feel the static of it, changing something in the air. It travels up his wrist, winding up his sleeve until it reaches his jaw. Tendrils like lightning kiss the skin there. I shiver. Ethan makes a low rumbling noise, mouth opening and closing nervously. His double-jointed fingers twitch.

I hear Eliav's breath catch when he finally sees the creature. He stands just a step behind Alex, forehead slick with sweat. I want to offer him some sort of comfort, but really, I don't think he needs it. Sparks light up his dusky skin, warming it to bronze underneath the moonlight and his energy. A sharp Arctic blue. It prickles. Eliav claps his hands together and when he parts them again, a milky sphere is in between his palms. He ducks his head and mutters a chant.

The sphere explodes in a dazzling display of multi-faceted jewels that seem to hold their own light from within. They hover in the air for a moment, and then they begin to rearrange themselves, piecing together to form a containment barrier. To keep the noise in and keep strangers out. I smile, bloody-lipped and bruised.

E'aughshy doesn't stand a chance. Not anymore.

Alex moves first.

He moves so fast that I almost miss him when I blink. Swift and sure. There's a scuff as the soles of his black work boots scratch against concrete and a breeze when he passes me. I catch a flash of his face, and like always, the stoniness of it leaves goosebumps on my biceps.

Then he's in front of Ethan, fist pulled back. Ethan begins to shield himself with his arms but he's too slow. Alex's fist comes hard on his mouth, partially open in surprise and confusion. There's an audible crack. A snap. Teeth are loosened from black gums. One, two - three fall past Ethan's lips and chip as they clatter by his shoes.

He stumbles back, hands grasping at his mouth. Red begins to flow through his fingers, staining his wrists and his shirt. It leaks on to the denim of his jeans and paints the ground. He tosses his head back and shrieks, several octaves higher than what any human should be able to reach. I wince and so does Eliav. Alex inclines his head toward Ethan.

"That's for Kastor," he says. The he frowns and looks at his first in a way that makes me want to laugh. "Ow. Hells."

Not much is said after that.

It takes a second, but then Ethan gathers himself and he all but flies at Alex with a snarl. Alex may have been able to catch him off-guard that first time. He won't be able to do it again.

Ethan's four arms are strong, if my current physical state is any sort of indication (I'm not exactly someone you can just pick and throw with that much ease, if I may so myself) and Alex lets out a huff of air when one of them lashes out at his shoulder. Alex darts away, fast despite his height, but not fast enough. The blow connects and Alex stumbles back a few steps, face contorting in pain. Ethan dives forward, triumph writ in the set of his shoulders, and he is every bit as terrifying as a nightmare. He moves faster than Alex, raking his claws against my brother's chest. The fabric gives way, tearing like paper. A button bounces off the cement, and deep red gashes bloom with blood. Eliav shouts but he doesn't dare to try and help him without disturbing the barrier.

I ground my teeth together. Dammit. I have to do something.

"Kastor," Eliav cries when I struggle to my feet. The pain is still there, but I do my best to ignore it. At least for a little while. Eliav's palms are up, the energy welling up from deep within him, immersing his hands in blue light. "Kastor, what are you doing? You're hurt!"

"It's okay," I say. My chest rattles loudly when I inhale deeply. Okay no, I'm not. "Keep it up, Eli."

"Alex will be fine!"

I shake my head but I don't speak anymore. I'm going to need all the energy I can muster for this. Besides, I'm not exactly painting a dashing picture for myself, just lying around on the ground like that. Just ahead of me, I can see Alex go into the defence. Ethan slams all his fists in Alex's direction, over and over. One aims for his face, another for his side. Alex manages to dodge them both, but when he manages to pull away, he has two new wounds torn into his thigh and forearm. A starry rush sings through my veins as something in my core spikes sharply.

Energy.

Magic.

It builds inside me in increments, until finally, it begins to spark at my fingertips. Dark blue; dark as the sky overhead. My skin buzzes with it. I can't help myself. I smirk.

Yeah, I'm not dead yet.

Alex manages a brilliant right-hook right into Ethan's jaw. His teeth snap together audibly, and he shrieks indignantly when Alex lands a kick in his torso that sends him skidding away. His entire body's covered in his energy now, igniting him like the centre of a flame. A slash of lightning in the night.

There's not much room for them to fight, and they're almost at the alley's dead-end. A heavy sweat breaks out over Eliav's brow and his breathing is starting to turn haggard. I raise my arm and close my eyes.

Energy surges through me like electricity and fire, pushing through me, from my centre, through my pores. When I open my eyes again, my entire arm is engulfed with it. It spits and hisses. A bright spark. My entire body is shuddering with the effort to hold me up but I don't care.

My fingers are unsteady when I touch them to the blood on my face before it dries completely and as quickly as I can manage, I draw a series of patterns on my wrist. Long lines, tight circles. Ancient patterns.

Ethan lets out another scream, thick tongue undulating wildly from his gaping mouth. Alex's green eyes slide over to me. They widen, just for a moment, and I know he's going to give me hell about straining myself later. Dangerous for my health and all that. I smile a fraction at the thought. We all know it's my magic that tears space best.

"Now!"

Alex ducks to the ground just as I release the ball of energy. It streaks through the air like a dark blue knife, and in its wake a jagged portal filled with wheeling galaxies and an endless sea of stars that stretches from dimension to dimension, to dimension. There are things there, sleeping and waiting.

Ethan makes a low moaning sound, like a fearful animal. He lurches to the side, away from the hole but Alex is on him in a heartbeat because there's no way we can keep the portal open longer than a minute, tops. They wrestle with each other, limbs flailing, scratching, kicking. But Ethan's losing - and he knows it. Alex's magic is growing brighter and brighter. Eliav averts his eyes slightly, and I do the same.

It explodes in a tidal wave of energy and soul-stuff, and light.

I hear Ethan give one final shriek; an apology, a plea. Then Alex hoists the creature up by the collar of his tattered t-shirt. He's covered in more blood than I am, and his cheek is already beginning to grow purple from a bruise. He smiles crookedly at Ethan.

"Sorry," he says. "But you need to go."

Ethan continues to struggle, writhing desperately against Alex's unrelenting grip, even as Alex pushes him right up against the lip of the portal, even when his scrabbling claws dig new scratches into my brother's arm and Alex doesn't even seem to feel them.

"Please," Ethan begs with his voice like stone against stone. "You don't know what's out there."

"I'm sorry."

Alex pushes him through and Ethan's cry is abruptly cut short as he disappears from our dimension. Quickly, he tears off what's left of his shirt and dips his finger into the blood still oozing from his wounds. Eliav winces visibly next to me and goes a shade paler. I have to admit, it's all pretty disgusting. There's blood everywhere. He works silently, efficiently. Drawing similar runes and patterns to the ones I drew on my wrist. These ones, however, go over his heart.

Magic crawls over his skin to the blood, devouring it beneath its sparks. Alex mutters something under his breath, a small incantation in a dead language that I haven't quite mastered myself. A sealing spell. Then like Eliav, he claps his hands together before holding them up against the portal I had created and slowly, magic leaps from his fingers in fine threads of blue flame, slowly stitching the hole together in tight criss-crossing seams that only we can see. Eliav and I watch his handiwork with awe.

No matter how often we see this, we can't help but be impressed. There's a reason Alex is the best out of us three.

When it's done, the magic fizzles out with a flourish. The gap is sealed and Ethan - E'aughshy - is gone.

Back to where he belongs.

Eliav gives a loud sigh of relief and like a window shattering on impact, his glowing barrier comes apart, the magic dissipating before the pieces hit the ground. He shakes, stumbles, and I almost reach for him but I can barely hold myself up. I'm leaning against the brick wall of the alleyway, which is covered in half-assed graffiti and flaking posters for a movie that was released two years ago. Alex jogs over to us, face scrunched up with concern. He reaches me first and I'm thankful when he lets me slump against him, sliding his arm under my shoulders so I can use him as a crutch. He gathers our youngest brother to him next, the kid trying to tell us that he's fine to stand but wavering dangerously when he tries to take a step back.

"I told you," Alex says to me as soon as we take a step out of the space between two huge buildings. "You should've waited for us."

"Sorry." I manage a bloody grin and a weak salute. My ribs are screaming at me and frankly, I really need to get some sleep. "Won't happen again, sir."

Then everything goes black.