“There’s always a choice. Good and bad.”
Desperation came into play, so once again I supplemented our alleged friendship with promises of fattening Eric’s purse. “I plan to pay you handsomely for the truth; enough for you to make a decent start with Ariane.” Over my dead body.
“Money is the evil bitch that dragged my ass into this mess. A generous cash flow’s great, but it’ll cost me in the end.” Eric looked away. “Anyway, it’s not about the money.”
“Not anymore.” Together, with the estate, stocks, and handsome bank account, Ariane and I had joined the elite team of multimillionaires.
“It’s about you, what you are, and the dangers we face in your company. You’ve changed since you weaned yourself off the anti-vamp serum. Crazier than ever.”
The word crazier meant nothing to me. Eric’s opinion only. Words like more powerful, faster, and enigmatic ancestry fit the new me “Okay, I’ve changed, but I’m no threat. Sabree, however…”
“Perhaps you are the good guy.”
“I’ve always been the good guy.”
34
twin freaks
E cstatic that we retrieved a blue drive without incident, now in safekeeping, I rose early to clean the amulet and study the symbols inlayed around the circular dial. Some seemed oddly recognizable, some resembled the drawings I found inside Pop’s desk.
If I depressed the gold pivot arm located in the middle of the dial, it would turn left or right in a full circle. The device was forged from bronze metal, the symbols and dial highlighted in a radiant gold as though afire. A timeless piece, how old I had no idea. It reminded me of a steampunk cuff, intricate and masculine in design. Had Turian worn this bracelet?
Only one way to find out. Last night’s turbulence replayed in my mind, so I held the piece as if it were a live grenade and unlatched the clasp. To secure the device from sticky fingers, I had to wear it. I cuffed the band over my wrist and snapped the two metal ends together. Big mistake.
A thin metal post, hidden in the underside of the dial, shot out and punctured my wrist. My piercing cry echoed off the walls. Tears streamed down my cheeks as I dropped to my knees, squeezing my hand between my clenched thighs.
Ariane ran inside and knelt beside me. “What happened? Are you all right?”
Gritting my teeth, I raised my arm to show her the monstrous bracelet that chomped into my flesh and bone like a ravenous shark. The amulet affixed itself by piercing the metal rod right through my wrist bones—linking flesh and metal. I tried to pry it off, but the slightest adjustment shot fiery spasms up and down my arm. Rocking the pain aside, I cradled my wrist and bracelet in my lap. Within minutes, my wrist healed. I could finally catch my breath. Remnants of crimson dust drifted to the floor.
“Nice souvenir. Did it pull a wrist hair when you put it on?” Ariane flipped my wrist around. Her eyes widened. “OMG.”
“I’ll live.” I wiped the tears from my eyes to examine the amulet more closely. After the fact, the purpose of the metal bar revealed itself as a lock or link between me and the bracelet. No taking it off. Not ever. I’d wear it forever rather than endure that agony. Maybe the scrolls would explain the unusual piece. I changed the subject, not liking the way her gaze ogled the amulet. “Are you still going through Pop’s stuff at the university?”
“I was on my way out until I heard you scream. Are you okay? Can Eric help?”
“No, no, I’m fine.” No one could help me now. At least no one on Earth.
3 3 3
“Your stop, lass, Edinburgh University,” the cabby said.
Ariane paid the fare and stepped in front of the research building where Duncan used to work. She would spend the final day to search for the rumored stash of anti-vamp pills and her father’s research, both overlooked by Wayde.
Memories stirred from past visits to the two-story brick structure. Designed to replicate a Victorian, the structure looked centuries older than The Michael Swann complex, home of the main biological sciences at the university. Duncan had preferred the quaint; however, she favored the Swann’s modern sleekness with its smooth concrete and glass. She bit her lower lip.
The door creaked. Ariane pulled her gaze away from the complex and glanced up at the ornately carved wooden entrance. She bit her lip harder, drawing blood, when Dr. Chambers barged through the doors.
He paused to meet her halfway down the stairs. “I didn’t realize you returned to Scotland,” he said. “Had a change of heart?”
Why this bully of all people? But then again, Ariane prided herself for the way she handled Sabree last night. Minus the bouts of remorse, she imagined herself ravaging the good doctor, especially after the way he abused her brother at the DanJal base. She noticed how the lines in his face appeared more haggard since their last encounter. “Too bad the DanJal didn’t dispose of you and Wayde after I slipped under your noses to whisk Brian away.”
“Bah! Forget the Fallen. Together, we could expose them all.”
“You must take us for idiots,” Ariane hissed. Out of the question, exposing the Fallen would reveal their secret as well. “I'll be brief. I'm looking for my father's notebooks, research papers, anything I can lay my hands on. Do you know where they’re stored?” Of course, the old bastard knew.
“We never got the chance to talk before your hasty exit at the masquerade ball,” Chambers said, glaring at her through thick black-rimmed glasses. “You and your brother threaten the Fallen’s existence. If the clans learn the truth, you will have nowhere to hide.”
“What truth? You and Wayde never speak truths, only riddles and lies.” She ignored the doctor’s nonsensical chatter and shoved him aside as she entered the building.
Like a little lost boy, Chambers followed her inside. His stubby fingers clung to her trench coat. “Hear me out. You and Brian are the byproducts of conflicted races. Dangerous. Wayde doesn’t know this yet, but eventually the truth will leak out. What then?”
Truth or more lies, the doctor’s comment caught her off guard. The reference to them being byproducts had no effect; after all, she and Brian were mutated half-breeds—human and Fallen. However, conflicted races made her stomach churn.
Confusion replaced anger. Ariane advanced on him. “Newsflash, Einstein, the Fallen plan to kill us as soon as they get their hands on the journal. Wayde told me it holds the procedure to reverse the process. Is he speaking the truth?”
“Lies only to gain your cooperation. You are what you are, lass. No magic elixir can undo the twin freaks.”
What would it take to eliminate the malicious smile off the doctor’s face? Not much. “Tell me something I don’t already know, like what happened to the girl Brian impregnated?” Sadly, she couldn’t remember her name.
“She died. Her system failed during delivery. The DanJal—”
“Did the baby survive?”
“Like the Malakhim, gestation is only three months for the Fallen. The DanJal have him.”
“Him?” Ariane wrung her hands together. Never thought she’d be an aunt so soon. Her emotions began to spill over. “What will become of him?”
“Your brother’s blood infected the infant. I’m certain the DanJal will destroy him after they examine him.”
Wrong answer. Images of shredding the man’s throat with sharp teeth flashed in her mind. She had to resist the urges, refuse to cross the line and kill a human.
Chambers chewed his lower lip and backed away, babbling to soothe the emerging beast. “Forget him; the child was doomed from day one. Look, I know where your father's records are stored. I’ll warn you though; someone has already ransacked the boxes by the looks of the mess. You're more than welcome to rummage through what’s left. Everything’s in the basement.”
Ariane’s radiant eyes continued to burn. A nephew she had never met was undergoing cruel experiments. Neither she nor Brian could do anything to stop it, except find answers in Duncan’s papers. The scrolls might answer questions about the serum and the o
dd bracelet. It might even lead them to the whereabouts of the DanJal fortress. “After you,” she uttered.
Ariane entered the storage room, abandoned by a retreating Dr. Chambers. How much of what he said was truth? Mixed emotions caused her distraction. Also to blame was the unanticipated surge of fear that crept over her, her imagination on overdrive. She scanned the dimly lit room to pinpoint the source. Seeing nothing, Ariane read the labeled boxes as she walked up and down the aisles, rewarded with four boxes marked Professor Duncan Colton.
Hours of rummaging through the musty records passed. Ariane gathered a few notebooks and slipped them underneath her coat. No journal, anti-vamp serum, or information regarding her and her brother’s birth; however, her search did yield a few passages from the ancient scrolls. Unable to read it, she stuffed the snippets inside the notebooks. Maybe Brian could figure out what to do with them. She sent a text to her brother, informing him she was heading back to the hotel.
On her way out, Ariane paused when the overhead light flickered until it popped, spraying glass across the floor. She stood rigid, feeling a familiar sense of affection across her body. “Who's there?”
Her widening eyes overlooked the predator hidden in the shadows two feet in front of the stairway. Her thumping heart warned her to flee, but her legs refused to budge, as though glued to the concrete floor. A battle ensued, her mind conflicted: escape or cherish Sabree’s approach. She chose the latter.
Captivated, immobilized, Ariane closed her eyes and waited. The faint crunch of broken glass tickled her eardrums. The cool breath against her neck made her moan. Her flesh tingled in anticipation of his touch. She shuddered when silky fingers caressed her neck and shoulder. Her body convulsed from both agony and ecstasy as the fangs sunk deep into her neck.
Her captor drank hard, gulping her blood as if she were an endless stream of sweet nectar. She let go of her inhibitions until he broke away. The fog quickly lifted when his hands frisked her, his touch no longer tender. Finding only the folder, Sabree dissipated into mist.
Talk about eat and run. What a creep. Ariane collapsed.
3 3 3
Concealed behind a pile of boxes, slouched against the wall, Ariane woke with a start. Voices at the top of the stairs. Brian and Eric. Lightheadedness and the weakness in her knees made it a struggle to climb to her feet. “Down here,” she called to them.
Her arms folded against her tummy to stop the shakes as she recalled how Sabree had nearly drained her of blood and left her on top of a pile of boxes like discarded trash. She patted her coat and found the folder still intact. A wave of dizziness tilted the room sideways. Would she recover without feeding?
Brian reached her first. “What happened?” His strong arms steadied her.
“Sabree happened. Will I live?”
“Damn him to hell. You need blood,” Brian growled. He bit into his own wrist until blood oozed and offered it to her. “Drink.”
A whisper of honeysuckle and then sweet vanilla blinded her awareness, forcing her eyeteeth to emerge. Ariane drank. Her brother’s blood topped the scale on sweetness compared to Sabree’s, smoother too, like single malt whisky compared to blended scotch. She swallowed the ambrosia until his body swayed. Her eyes popped open.
In her direct line of sight, Eric stood behind Brian, his face twisted with disgust. She ignored him and tended to her brother. “Brian, I’m sorry, I got carried away.”
A voice atop the stairs called out. A devilish grin formed across Brian’s lips. “I’ll be fine. Looks like I have unfinished business with Chambers.”
Ariane knew in her heart that she should stop her brother. However, she let him go, watching him shoot up the stairs. If she hadn’t fed on her brother, she would’ve let herself succumb to the monstrosities within and attack Chambers herself. Sabree’s fault, all of it. To hell with his suggestion to let her Fallen gifts surface, she never wanted to be a creature like either of them.
35
NO LONGER IN KANSAS
A week passed since our return trip from Scotland. Jesse hid the blue flash drive according to Ariane’s instructions and she resumed business-as-usual by gathering new clients. Her obsession, ruled by guilt or her fierce desire for normalcy, warned me of the impending conflict between us. She was hiding something—likely the exchange between her and Sabree. I maintained the peace by keeping to myself.
Two obstacles led to my reclusive behavior: grief-stricken over my first kill, Chambers, and the strong desire to study the amulet. A living, breathing Chambers meant danger. I mourned, not for the doctor but for myself and for the son I’d never meet. No longer the innocent, I had ultimately crossed the line that once adhered me to the last remnants of humanity. No turning back now.
The amulet fused to my wrist was still a conundrum. How I managed to squeeze by airport security was another puzzle. Much to my relief, the mystery metal didn’t set off the detector. Now in the safe haven of my bedroom, I could focus on the amulet. My confidence grew while I deciphered the mechanism, recognizing some of the code. However, any misinterpretation of its actual meaning could turn out disastrous.
Hours of finagling with the dial resulted in small fluctuations similar to the one experienced inside the catacomb. Undulating space and my aching back were the only notable side effects.
Today would be different. A vision from last night’s sleeplessness flashed in my mind. The gold lever clicked until it snapped in place over the two wavy lines and then spun left until it locked over the symbol that resembled a star. This had to be the answer. Assuming the piece ancient in origin, it seemed to function much like a decoder ring. All I had to do was synchronize the precise code to unlock the mystery.
To prepare for the day’s impromptu experiment, I packed away most of the decorative breakables inside the cedar chest and lined the furniture against one wall. I chuckled. Ariane would have me committed if she saw the state of my room and myself. Standing on the bed in a tee shirt and boxer briefs with a baseball bat in hand added to the lunacy. My bare feet stomped the mattress for assured footing to ready myself for anything except what was about to happen. I dropped the bat at my feet.
Focused on the dial, I pressed the lever and dialed it to the wavy lines. Unlike the earlier tinkering, nothing happened. “What the—” I palm-slapped my forehead and rotated the dial until it settled over the star and locked into place.
A low rumble like the bass in a surround sound system amplified until sound waves bounced off the walls. The bed and wall-lined furniture rattled. A forgotten Kopeli vase crashed to the floor. Thor’s own hammer battered my shoulder blades. No cry of pain escaped my throat except for choking gasps. I doubled over and dropped to my knees, grasping the footboard for support. Charred fabric wafted in the air.
The back of the tee shirt curled into black ash, singed by two appendages erupting from under each shoulder blade. Along with shooting sparks, the nubs sprouted into huge black wings. They surged outward. I stole a glimpse at the wall mirror and glanced away in horror. Wheezing between breaths, another peek revealed the wings, although the flowing wisps looked more like fiber optic rays rather than feathers.
Why black though? The color usually represented evil. Then I remembered the scrolls stated that Turian’s wings had turned black after the Malakhim banished him. Much to my relief, they weren’t bat wings like some of the artistic renditions painted throughout history. The ethereal wings, two on each side extended outward. The upper wings reached fourteen feet in length while the lower ones reached ten. All four moved as one in anticipation of flight. Could I fly?
In answer, the natural world split apart to expose a fissure at the end of the bed. Partial recognition set in. Would it lead to the alternate dimensions or universes I dreamt about so often? Intrigued with the strange phenomenon, I forgot about the wings. Through the gap, darkness consumed every ray of light. Displacement continued to infiltrate the room, the bass rumble now thunderous. Turbulent vibrations made the toiletries on my bureau
jump about like sizzling popcorn. Next to the door, the full-length mirror rattled against the wall. A dark vein fractured the top of the mirror to the bottom.
This couldn’t be happening. Aye, I’m dreaming. Both eyes squeezed shut, I opened one to see if I had woken. The upheaval continued to rattle the entire room. My gaze was drawn into the portal, the darkness from within beckoning my entry. The tear in space fluctuated and flickered with energy produced by the collision and contamination of two opposing universes.
I hesitated, uncertain where it would take me, doubtful I’d ever return. I reached for the metal baseball bat in case any of my nightmares materialized. Thinking it now or never, I slipped through the opening. Dismal thoughts crossed my mind. How would I turn it off? How would I get home?
The black vortex whirling amidst starlight guided me through the center instead of careening my body off the edges. A radiant star at one end of the wormhole shimmered as if to beckon me. Was it the light at the end of the tunnel?
Gravity pulled me toward the light until I tumbled into a wide-open expanse that teemed with millions of universes, nebulas, quasars, supernovas, galaxies, and planets. Wispy phenomena that resembled phosphorescent jellyfish tendrils danced around me. Distance seemed irrelevant as if the bodies were near, yet vastly detached from the billions of light-years that encompassed them. Twisted veins of energy linked each astral body to a physical world or galaxy. I couldn’t begin to measure distance or dimension within the pool of electrical arcs and haze. The sheer beauty and brilliancy of the blaze blurred my vision.
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