by J Bennett
A soft knock on the door. Strong, steady energy behind it.
“Maya?” Gabe asks.
I don’t answer.
“Whatever Tarren said, he didn’t mean it. That whole total prick thing is just his defense mechanism. He has lots of deep-seeded issues.”
“Oh come on,” Tarren mutters farther back.
“Underneath he’s really a lovable teddy bear with an affection for guns. He’s also quite fond of hugs and romantic comedies; you probably don’t know that about him,” Gabe says. “Oh, and I got us some grub.”
I open the door.
* * *
Tarren receives a salad and vitamin water. Gabe presents himself with a cheeseburger and a can of Red Bull.
“Man food,” he says. The smell of dead meat fills the room, and I shudder.
“And for you…” Gabe reaches into the bag, “Goldfish! Not exactly like you’re used to, but these are prettier than the snack.” He hands me a bowl and two large plastic bags filled with darting, colorful shapes. He glances at his brother, and Tarren nods in approval.
We sit on the floor in a semi-circle. I make sure I am out of arm’s reach of both boys. Tarren picks carefully through his salad, while Gabe bites into his burger and moans with pleasure. I’ve already downed the two bottles of water Gabe set in front of me. My thirst seems to have no limit. Now, I let my hand rest in the bowl of water until the fish forget the intrusion. In a swift motion, I snatch up a wriggling body, squeeze out its energy and place the small corpse on a napkin behind me. The brothers pretend not to notice, but they pause each time I pull my hand out of the water.
The energy of the fish hit me in small bursts, hardly substantial enough to feel even a moment’s relief. It is more maddening then filling. Drops of rain on my parched tongue while two forbidden lakes sit before me.
“Gabe,” I say, and he lifts his head, chipmunk cheeks filled with cheeseburger bits. “You said your father and Dr. Cook destroyed the formula, but the man who took me. He used…”
“Bone marrow transplant,” Tarren sets down his fork. “After his father was killed, Grand became obsessed with recreating the formula or finding another way to infect others.”
“He raped a lot of women,” Gabe puts down the last bite of his burger. “Transferred blood. Blasted poor bastards with radiation. Fed off them till they were almost dead, then brought them back, that kind of thing. Eventually he discovered that bone marrow injected into the spine worked.”
“To a lesser degree than the original formula,” Tarren says.
“Close enough.” Gabe crushes the paper wrapper from his burger and throws it in the bag. “We found one of his labs awhile back. It was a slaughterhouse. He’s still doing it too. Experimenting to find an easier way. The bone marrow limits him. God, we’ve got to kill that bastard.”
“Grand is incredibly smart, incredibly rich and incredibly viscous,” Tarren says. “That’s what makes him the most dangerous one of them all.” His energy pulses a deep crimson, the color of dried blood.
“And he’s my father,” I say. “He is, isn’t he?”
Gabe looks to Tarren. “I don’t think…” he begins.
“I’m draining live fish for food. And…” My mind spins and comes up empty. “And that sucks, okay. So just tell me.”
It’s Tarren who speaks. “Our father killed Robert Thane. It took him two years to get close enough. You don’t know how hard it is to kill an angel, especially a powerful one who feeds without restraint. It was a terrible fight, but our father won.” The pride is evident in Tarren’s voice and his aura. This is the closest to happy I’ve seen him, and it makes him handsome even with the scar.
“Grand was Thane’s eldest son, and he wanted revenge.” Tarren’s voice is somehow commanding even when he speaks softly, like now. “Our parents were smart but also naïve in many ways. They were still trying to live functional lives during the day. Grand had too many connections. Too much money. He found them, eventually.”
“She doesn’t need to know the details,” Gabe says roughly.
There are two fish left in the bowl. They seem unconcerned about the loss of their companions or what it could portend for their own chances of survival. Their orange bodies make quick laps around the bowl with thoughtless determination. They do not have the capacity for happiness or sadness. Not fear either. Not hate. Not the strange sinking sickness when you learn your father doesn’t fit any of the childhood roles you’ve dreamed up for him. Not even the worst ones.
“Grand raped our mother and killed our father,” Tarren continues in a flat, disengaged voice. “Slowly. He meant to take our mother back to one of his labs as an experiment, but she…escaped.”
“She set the house on fire,” Gabe says and laughs suddenly. “Grand had no idea what she was capable of. How deep the fight went inside her. We were in daycare. She picked us up and fled.”
“Our parents had a contingency plan in place, naturally,” Tarren adds.
“We hid for a long time,” Gabe says. “I don’t remember it. I was only two, but she told me about it later. How afraid she was.”
“What was her name?” I rasp.
“Diana,” Tarren says. “She died six years ago. Cancer.”
I stare at his nose—a long straight bridge, round and pronounced at the tip. It looks too big and cumbersome on me, but it fits Tarren’s face perfectly. I hate that about him, the truth it conveys of our shared parentage. I hate everything right now. Especially these stupid fish not knowing that I’m going to kill them. Especially my stupid mouth that suddenly opens and lets my whole world spill out.
“My parents, Karen and Henry, they never hid the fact that I was adopted. They even didn’t mind so much when I stopped calling them Mom and Dad, though I think it hurt Karen’s feelings. I was trying to rebel, sort of and…and I always wanted to save those words, just in case…” My voice is shaking, because I’m losing it. Really losing it, “…in case my real parents…in case I found them and they wanted to take me back.
“And when I was little I would make up all these stories about them. How they were a king and queen and had to hide me from an evil wizard. The first story I ever wrote was about them. And I kept writing. A hundred stories to justify why they gave me away. And then…oh shit, and then when I got older I wrote different stories. I turned my parents into drug addicts. Or my mom was a prostitute or the high school whore who got pregnant. I made up terrible things because I was so, so angry.”
I really am trying to shut the hell up, but I can’t. I’ve never told this to anyone. Not even Ryan. “Because they didn’t want me. Maybe my father never even knew about me, but my mother had no excuse. I hated her so much, but now I know. She must have despised me …” and finally the words are gone, and I’m surprised that there are no tears. Just a pinched throat that doesn’t feel like it will ever open up again to let me breathe.
The boys are looking at me, but I can’t bring my head up, not with their energy so close and my nerves unhinged and my hands, damn them, heating up. I keep my eyes on the oblivious fish.
“No Maya, it wasn’t that.” Gabe’s voice breaks through my stupor. “Mom loved you. When she was sick she told me how she thought about you all the time. She was so afraid when she got pregnant. Afraid that you would be an angel. When you were born human, she told me it was the first time she smiled since the fire. You gave her hope.”
“But why…give me up?” I can only manage a whisper.
“She had her reasons,” Tarren says in that sharp, clipped voice that slams the door shut on our conversation and adds a padlock for good measure.
“It’s getting late.” He gathers up the trash. “We’ll need to start out early in the morning.”
Gabe remains seated, and his doleful eyes catch mine and hold them. In a quiet voice he says, “Mom told me that she took comfort knowing that you were out in the world living a normal life. That you would never be burdened with the truth.”
Tarren’s
face doesn’t betray a single twitch, but his aura jolts red. He drops the trash into the bin.
I look back at Gabe. “Until now,” I say to him. I snatch a fish out of the water and suck its life away. One left. I dip my hand into the bowl.
Chapter 15
The brothers argue in whispers while I am in the bathroom using a finger to rub toothpaste onto my teeth. I leave the faucet running and lean against the door to listen. The subject under heated discussion is the need for a night watch. The intended object of the watch is, of course, me. Tarren opines that I should be kept under strict guard. I’m emotional, unpredictable and dangerous. Gabe disagrees, noting that I seem to be taking the whole thing in stride. He votes in favor of a full night’s sleep on account that neither of them has slept in the past two days.
Gabe is called irresponsible. Tarren is called a prick. Neither seems offended by his moniker. A compromise is reached.
When I exit the bathroom, my wrists are cuffed behind my back with apologies from Gabe and a nod from Tarren.
Despite Gabe’s protests, Tarren takes the floor with an extra pillow and blanket while Gabe and I each slip into a bed. Both brothers put their guns under their pillow. Tarren stays fully dressed. Gabe kicks off his shoes and throws his jeans on the floor. The lights go out. I wait.
Gabe falls asleep quickly. I watch the movement of his energy slow and even out. The light around his body dims to a soft, round glow, and his breath comes out in rhythmic whooshes against the pillow.
I cast my gaze to the floor and watch Tarren’s energy spike up and down, moving in jerky circles and webbed with scarlet. Again and again his energy field begins to smooth down, then jumps high. Each time, his heart beat rises to a quick gallop. Nightmares? He seems so remorseless in the daylight.
I wait. My mind is numb and empty. The darkness seems to vibrate, and as I lay in my bed, I mentally explore my new body. It is entirely different from the thing I once resided within. The darkness is like a semi-sheer curtain that shades the room but cannot hide its contents. I can see Gabe’s laptop sitting on the table and the ridges on the lamp’s twist dial. I can smell the lingering whiffs of salad dressing and burger. Even the boys each have their own unique scent. A new latent energy coils inside my muscles. I wonder what I can do with it.
Through the walls, I catch faint throbs of energy from the other motel patrons. I can tell who is awake and who is not. If they are having sex or watching TV. In the closest rooms, I can even hear the late night comedians gearing up their monologs. The sheer volume of new information is difficult to parse and process. I struggle to filter it into a coherent message. And the hunger is peaking again. I couldn’t possibly sleep even if I wanted to. Not with their auras glowing so blatantly bright. Not when my hands are growing hot, and I must make a mental effort to keep the skin on my palms from rolling back.
Tarren falls into a light sleep. His energy never entirely evens out, but the jumps are smaller and do not wake him.
I take my time with the handcuffs, giving them long concentrated pulls. My wrists ache. I can feel blood soaking through the bandages. I pull harder. The plastic strains. My muscles strain. The blood flows. My teeth grind against each other. I won’t give up, can’t give up. I keep thinking that just maybe Ryan isn’t dead. Maybe everything they’ve told me is a lie. About being my brothers. About Grand raping my mother. What if they’re really the bad guys? It happens in movies all the time, and haven’t the last two days just been one crazy B horror movie with inept actors trying too hard?
The cuffs snap. Tarren flinches and mumbles something incoherent. I keep still, forcing my breathing to remain low and even. He drops back into sleep. It is amazing he can’t hear the wild beating of my heart. It fills the entire room. I draw back the covers and step out of the bed. I’m wearing a matching peach tank top and cotton capri pants with yellow hearts around the hems.
I step over Tarren on dainty feet. He doesn’t stir. I pull the lock back slowly on the window and catch it behind my hand. My muscles are all clenching hard to my bones. This is probably a bad idea. I can’t really go back, I know that. Ryan isn’t waiting for me. Doctors can’t stitch up these new tears in my hands. Tarren might be working on a cure, but Tarren also wants to kill me. He and his brother spend their days running around murdering people. I will go out into the night, and I will run. I don’t care what happens after that.
I tug on the glass panel, and it slides open with a squeal of protest. Tarren raises his head and blinks. Our eyes meet.
In the second it takes his tired mind to realize what’s happening, I leap through the window.
Land.
Run.
Chapter 16
The humid night air moves grudgingly into my lungs as I tear through the empty back roads of this town and cut into a wooded field. I can hear the faint hiss of the highway in the distance. This feels like flying. My strides are long and graceful, and I feel, really feel my new body in motion. I am giddy with fear. This is some kind of mix between dreaming and reality. The song is playing, always playing, but now it seems to be encouraging me. I feel strong.
I pause, pulling air into my lungs and try to regain my bearings. The night is dark, but my eyes cut right through it. I’ve run at least a couple of miles, and the highway is close.
“Don’t move.”
Tarren comes up behind me, gun leveled. He is gasping for breath, trying to hide it. His long-sleeved shirt is soaked with sweat and clinging to his body. He is spent; I can see it in the wavering energy field that hugs close to his body. The pained scarlet is more prominent.
“You’re coming back. Now,” he says, but his words melt away in the glow of his energy. I know that I could outrun him, but suddenly I don’t want to. The run has drained me; I need fuel.
“You won’t shoot me,” I say. “You promised Gabe.”
“Gabe isn’t here,” Tarren replies.
“On your mother’s grave,” and this is becoming fun. He’s trapped, but he doesn’t know it yet. Something dark and cruel is uncurling inside of me. I want to break his calm. I want to see him afraid. “But she isn’t here either is she?” I say.
“Don’t you dare…” he whispers. I take a step closer.
“Does it comfort you to think she’s in Heaven watching out for you and your little brother? Keeps you going, huh? She’s not anywhere Tarren. Or your father. They’re both worm shit rotting in…”
“Shut up!” His face is taunt with rage, and that’s how I win. I leap. He fires. His concentration is off, and he is a second too slow. A second is an achingly long time. The bullet hisses by my left ear just as my knee catches his shoulder. We hit the ground together. The gun skitters away. Tarren lands on his back, me on top of him. I hear the air kick out of his lungs, see the scarlet pulse around his body. He twists under me, gasping for breath and throwing a protective arm over his ribs. Now I know where he’s injured. I put my hands on his chest and slam him back, hard into the ground. He shudders in pain and lays stunned, red crackling all around him.
“I know what you are,” Tarren rasps. “Go ahead. Prove it.”
There is a strange glint of relief in his face. He closes his eyes and waits, and the shame comes like a sudden rain soaking right through me. I feel sodden with it. Cold. Ryan, hiding in the trees, shakes his head, and I see myself as I must look to him in this moment; the precipice I am traipsing.
I fight against the hunger, but it’s like trying to push away a tidal wave.
Tarren opens his eyes. “Do it,” he says. It almost sounds like a plea.
“I am in control,” I tell him through gritted teeth. This is where I should finish with a noble speech about inner strength and the power of belief, but I can’t think of anything more. I’m too damn hungry, and this isn’t a B horror flick after all. I stand up and take a wobbly step away.
Tarren struggles up to his elbow, panting in pain. I turn away from him, toward the highway. “Don’t follow me.”
“Maya wait
!” Gabe stumbles out into the field still wearing his t-shirt and striped boxers. “Oh god, don’t…go yet. Just…give me…a second.” He leans over and gasps for breath. His bare feet are dirty and bleeding.
“Maya, don’t go.” Gabe straightens up, and the moon catches his flushed face and tousled hair. “If you go back it’ll be all over the news. Grand will come for you. He’ll turn you into an angel. You think it’s hard to control the hunger now? If you turn, it’ll be impossible. You’ll kill people. Men, women, children.”
“How do I know you’re telling the truth? How do I know any of this is real at all?” I shout back at him. Ryan, Ryan, Ryan, if only I could leap into the ocean and wash up on the shores of Avalon.
“Mom knew that if Grand ever found out about you he would stop at nothing to find you and infect you just like his father infected him,” Gabe says. “That’s why she gave you away, to protect you. She never blamed you for who your father was or how you were conceived. You were innocent. She knew that, and we know that.”
“I want to go home.”
“You can’t,” Tarren says, sitting up with a wince.
Gabe gives him a look, and the hysteria that has been bubbling beneath the surface of my mind suddenly erupts like a geyser. “This is crazy. This is insane,” my voice squeaks. “You two are…and especially you,” I huff at Tarren, “and I’m….,” I look at Gabe helplessly. The words fall from my lips like haunted things. “I don’t know what I am.”
Gabe doesn’t hesitate. “You’re our sister,” he says. He squares his shoulders and stretches out his hand. “I’ll prove it. Take my hand without your gloves on.”
“Gabe,” Tarren barks.
“Let me do this.” Gabe never lets go of my eyes. “Maya, take my hand.”
“I…I can’t.” Traitorous tears flee down my face, and I wipe them away. “Don’t ask me to do this.”
“Maya, you can control it. I trust you. Come on.” Gabe’s eyes are big and sad, and I feel again that whiplash certainty that I’ve known him my entire life; that maybe I can trust him. He gives me a small smile, but can’t keep the tremor out of his extended hand.