The Broken Ones (Book 2): The Broken Families

by David Jobe

  Sighing, he decided to ignore the cat and get on with his plan. Moving down the long hallway, he embraced the sweet perfume of roses as he passed two dozen on a stand, he made his way to the lavish room that lay beyond.

  Stepping into her bedroom was like stepping into his own fantasy brought to life. A huge bed with four posts took up the majority of the bedroom, covered in a sort of white satin that somewhat resembled the fabric of the swimsuit he had been admiring. He strolled over and ran a hand across the silky surface, his own mind racing at the idea of pulling her close and laying her down on those beautiful covers. He knew that would never happen and that he had to settle for what he came here for, but it did feel nice to imagine.

  That was until an angry hiss brought him from his daydream and found him turning to face the cat that had followed him like a stalking paparazzi into the room. Now it sat where his fingers had touched the bed and hissed at him. “You do realize I am bigger than you.” He raised a hand as if to strike him.

  The cat watched him, its emerald eyes seeming to find the hand nothing more than a gesture of a stupid animal. It stared at him, daring him to lay a hand on its well-groomed hair.

  Dropping his hand in defeat, he growled at the cat that it was lucky he didn’t want anything to seem out of place, and a smacked around cat might be all the warning signs she needed to leave before anything could be gained. “How about you go in the front room and lick yourself in private.” He offered the cat, bargaining for his right to remain in this room.

  The cat remained silent and still to his suggestion.

  “Have it your way, demon cat.” He turned to face the door to the closet that stood just past the door leading in. Walking over he pushed open the door, his heart racing at the moment of truth. He had hoped she had fulfilled the women cliché and had a walk in closet. If she hadn’t, he still had a backup plan, but the closet was still the best plan. She did.

  Robert stood as quiet as he could, using most of his limited willpower to keep from suppressing an almost infantile giggle. The darkness that surrounded him made him feel both safe and alive. The soft hint of fabric softener assaulted his senses. The walk in closet was ample space for enough for his slender body to stand in without touching the double level racks that ran along the sides and crossed in the back. Even in the gloom his eyes had started to become accustomed to, he could see the various types of women clothing that surrounded him like toys waiting to be touched, felt and experienced. With one hesitant finger he ran the tip across a pair of jeans he wasn’t sure was leather or the fake stuff that women sometimes wore. Either way, he found the thrill of touching it invigorating as well as imagining the beautiful woman that would wear it, and how sexy she would look in tight fitting leather, fake or not.

  The real trick for him had been finding a way into the apartment without being seen. Granted, his new found power allowed him to move around unseen as he chose, but the complication was that it required him to be stark nude. An invisible man in clothes was just as visible as a regular Joe in clothes. So, finding out that the old lady had a spare key had been a stroke of luck. He took it as fate in his quest to use his new power for his own satisfaction. Granted, after a few more of these visits to women on a list that kept growing, he might stop and use his power for good, but what was the point in having a power if not to satiate a little carnal hunger first?

  He found himself giddy with anticipation. He knew that she would be home soon, so he had stripped down in the closet, tucking his folded clothes in the very back of the walk-in space, atop what looked to be a box of winter clothes. His hope was that he could have his little viewing, and when she went to sleep or out on the town, he could don his clothes again and stroll out with the senile neighbor none the wiser.

  A click of a deadbolt disengaging gave him a clue that his quest was nearing completion. From down the hall, he had crept an hour earlier he could hear her come in, close the door and toss the keys onto something that sounded metallic. His memory flashed back to a table that stood next to the door, adorned with a silver bowl that reminded him of those movies where witches would pour liquid into a bowl to gaze at some distant location or to delve into the future. He wasn’t one for a belief in magic, though he realized he might have to revisit that considering his power. It was an eerie contemplation to be having while standing as still as he could in the closet of a beautiful stranger. He had left the door from the closet into the bedroom open so he could keep an eye on her when she walked in. One, for the obvious reason, and the other for the sheer fact her first visit might be straight for the closet. He had played around with his powers before and had found he could only focus long enough to stay invisible for at most an hour, depending on his state prior to entering becoming invisible. The more awake he was, the better his chances for lasting. Sleepy, angry or any condition that might affect his concentration and half an hour would be pushing it. Today he was primed and ready, having slept the proper eight hours and downing a whole 20 oz can of energy drink before slinking into the apartment.

  “Rocket?” The young woman called, looking for her cat that had greeted him with an alarming hiss. As luck would have it the cat gave a shit for about ten minutes at most before deciding that following him and hissing was the height of its obligation before it wandered off. God how he hated cats. The things were barely aware of people and he could never figure out how anyone would consider them a pet. A dog showed up and hung out with you when you were sad. A cat couldn’t give two shits about how you felt. They were more uppity women for all he could figure out. Self-centered and wanting attention all the time, no matter what the guy wanted. Granted, this was a casual observation of a man who had yet to have an uppity woman give him the time of day. That would change soon enough. With enough visits to women when they were unaware, their guards down, he would start to understand them. Perhaps with his power, he could break into banks and steal large sums of cash. After all, it didn’t matter how uncouth you were if you were straight loaded with cash. The mint green smell of money drove all the women wild.

  The cat meowed loud enough to hear him, and he could hear the woman cooing to the damn thing like a baby. Perhaps he would have to swallow his pride and buy a cat. Then he would have to work on finding a suitable name for the stupid thing. Perhaps he could name it General Tso’s and some women would find the vague reference amusing. Better to stick with the plan to be so filthy rich he could look like Mick Jagger as a burn victim and still get women. Besides, he was too important a man to be scooping up another life form’s droppings. That right there was reason enough not to own a pet of any kind. Having to follow behind the damn things and scoop up their shit. Nothing like being subservient to a dumb animal to make one feel less lonely, right?

  The door to the bedroom swung open and from his vantage point, he could see her quite clearly. Long blonde hair that may or may not have been real flowed down from her head and over her neck like a halo of gold, clipped short just above where he imagined her nipples would be. She was wearing a light blue dress that hugged yet revealed nothing. She held the cat in her arms, stroking its hair while she told it something she seemed to think it gave a shit about. The cat’s eyes moved to regard the opened door to the closet with readable contempt. Stupid cat. If it gave him away, he would make sure it had gobbled its last Fancy Feast. She dropped the cat onto the bed and it rolled onto its back and regarded its mistress with open pleasure. He could hear it purring.

  “It’s been a long day.” She told Rocket the Cat, moving to stand with her back to the closet. With one practiced shrug, she lifted the dress over her head and tossed it onto the bed beside the posing cat. “I think I need a shower after that last photographer. I swear, they all seem to try and make you think they aren’t into women, but their hands always say they are. I feel like I need gasoline and a Brillo pad to get the feel of his grimy hands off me.”

  Robert heard little of it, marveling in the vision he had been given thus far. Black lace bra with matchin
g panties seemed to glow in his mind. Her tanned skin made it worse, as when she bent to scratch Rocket the Cat, her panties dropped just enough to reveal the tan line hidden underneath. His heart was pounding so loud he was sure she could hear it like a giant slamming on the walls of the closet. He could even smell the soft scent of her from how close he was now. He couldn’t place the alluring aroma, perhaps a flower of some kind, but whatever it was, it was intoxicating. All he could think of was to hope she would continue and turn just enough so that he could see it all. He could feel his own body reacting to the sight of her.

  Turning, she slipped her arms around her back, going for that mysterious mechanism that kept her bra together. Now she was facing him. Not only that, but she was walking toward for him. Now was the time. He knew he had to focus, to get his mind right so he could vanish, or he would be arrested before the evening was over.

  Focusing his will, he imagined a silver liquid streaming first from his brain, slipping into his veins with increasing speed, feeling it branch down and outward, spreading like a mercury infection. In his mind, it happened in gradual stages, but it was merely an aspect of the trigger, for as she opened the door and gazed in, nothing on her face said that she was looking at the chest of a very naked and very aroused man she had never met.

  Then he realized one important aspect. He was invisible, not incorporeal. If she reached for anything, she was going to lay a hand on him. And if she reached for the yoga pants he had been touching not too long ago, she was going to be touching something unused to being touched by anyone but him. She stood there a second, her beautiful face contorting as she puzzled over what she wanted. “Maybe just the robe.” She said, snatching the deep blue robe that hung from the back of the door to the closet. She turned to move back into the room and he breathed a sigh of relief.

  She stopped. Frozen in place.

  She turned to face the closet again, her eyes now wide with fear.

  He had forgotten that being invisible did not mean being silent!

  “Is somebody in there?” She back away one cautious step at a time.

  What was he going to do now? He could just say no and hope that would freak her the hell out. He couldn’t just stand there, because odds are she would either have someone come investigate, like the police, or she was going to do so herself.

  “Come out.” She demanded, a little less fear slipping from her face as she backed into the nightstand by her bed. “Come out or I am calling the cops.” Her tone more serious now. A lot less fear in those crystal blue eyes.

  Careful with his movements, he stepped out of the closet, slinking to the side, just to be safe. He had been smart enough not to leave his ID in his pants, just in case something like this happened and he had to bolt. At best they would know his size, but they wouldn’t know who unless they ran some sort of DNA on the clothes. He could feel his heart racing faster by the minute. All the stress was starting to get to him, as his head was starting to pound in a counter-point to the hammering in his chest. If he didn’t calm down he was going to start wheezing and then invisible or not, the gig would be up.

  He took another careful step toward the door out of the room, taking it slow so as not to make any noise that might alert her. Eyes still focused on the closet doorway, she remained oblivious to him.

  Another step and his head was pounding, his heart dancing like a mosh pit loser slamming like a fool against his thin chest. Just a few more steps, he told himself mentally, ever mindful of making a sound now. He wondered if the sweat he knew he was becoming coated in would start to stink fast enough for her to smell it.

  If only his headache would go away, but it continued to get worse, pounding like a pissed off midget had pulled out a sledgehammer and was going to town on the spot just behind his temples. Closing his eyes he tried to steady his vision as it was beginning to blur at the edges. He needed to make those two steps to the hallway, and then he could sprint for the door and be out into the warm night. Naked or not, public indecency was better than whatever the mountain of charges would be for this. How could he have been so stupid? There were breasts on the damn internet, and they didn’t come with jail time. Well, some did, but that was beside the point.

  Then he heard it, and his heart froze in place. That briefest of intakes of air you see in the movies, right before the blonde bimbo in the horror movie lets out a scream that the whole cast should have been able to hear all over the abandoned camping site. His eyes flashed opened and his biggest fear was realized, She was staring right at him! Even Rocket the Asshole was staring at him, although with more like an amused king does before he orders your head lopped off. Its owner, on the other hand, was raising a hand to point at him, almost like an accusation.

  It wasn’t just her hand. She had a gun! A huge gun and he could see the chambers on that lethal beast and every one of them was loaded with what he guessed was a hollow point round. She must have scooped up the revolver from the nightstand by her bed. No wonder she had gone from high-level fear to stunning control in heartbeats.

  “No!” It was all he got the chance to say, raising his hand to try and stop her with will alone. The muzzle of the gun flashed, followed by what sounded like a demonic god coughing.

  Then the world went dark for Robert.

  Chapter Three

  A Villain Once More

  Something itched at the back of Drew Riese’s mind like a thought that couldn’t seem to find traction. It had been weeks since the fiasco on the freeway. Although, in essence, it had been a win for Drew as his attempt had been to either save Miss Fire or to end her chance at revealing information on who might be controlling the monstrosity that was Golem. Still, something felt unfinished about the whole ordeal. He found himself staring at the ceiling above his bed and the fan that spun there in lazy circles. The dull whump of the blades as they churned the air over his bed, pushing air that celled of cinnamon and sugar down toward him. His mother labored in the kitchen cooking cinnamon rolls for the bake sale her and some other mother’s of the neighborhood had organized. She had told him what worthy cause these were for, but he hadn’t been listening. They all pooled together after awhile. Ethiopians or crack addicts, the gamut her group ran was as impressive as it seemed useless. Ethiopians still existed and crack addicts still went hungry.

  He gave a dry chuckle at that.

  It occurred to him that he hadn’t used his abilities since that day. He could have pawned it off as laying low while the fever of finding him died down, but the whole city remained in an uproar about the amount of Altered that had started coming out of the woodwork. Much as with any hot button issue, the whole nation had been split into two major mindsets, then divided into ranges of severity. From rounding them up to tagging them to considering them a new label that should be added to the constitution.

  Drew settled on his bed with his legs out and his back resting against the headboard. He propped an expensive notebook computer on his lap and slid on his brand name headphones. He clicked a square icon on his desktop and his screen was immediately filled with Spongebob and Patrick on some mindless adventure. He couldn't remember the episode, but by now he had seen so many they were running together. It didn't matter anyway. This was just to help cover Drew summoning Golem in a nearby rest stop. With the volume loud enough that if anyone should enter and see him staring slack-jawed at the screen and unresponsive, they will think he just zoned out on the parade of stupid that danced before him. It was a flimsy cover at best, but as a kid, he could not get away with demanding that he lock his door.

  It had taken him some practice, but he no longer needed to close his eyes to send his consciousness out to summon his creation. He steadied his breathing and rotated his shoulders. Tilting his head both directions he heard the satisfying pop in his neck. He gave one final sigh and did what he referred to as "spawning". In his mind, it felt like pushing up through a layer of dirt before falling for a short period of time. When his mind landed on the dirt he wanted, it felt like cras
hing into a mountain of spikes. His mind shattered into a couple of dozen pieces that he would then have to place back together. Once done, his creation would rise from the mound and take form. The process took upwards of twenty minutes, the piecing himself back together the larger portion of the time. Now, he imagined himself like that liquid metal off one of the robot movies that sought itself out and coalesced together. The process took under a minute now, unless it was due to being shoved out of a form already. That took a great deal more time to gather himself together again.

  Shadows stretched out, pooling into areas of darkness. All around the rest area, street lamps clicked on humming with electricity. Near the back of the walking area, in a spot just beyond the line of trees that banked the concrete walkways, a large mound of dirt stirred. From the rumbling soil, a large claw emerged that bore a minor semblance to a human hand. Another hand followed, rising from the mound followed by a bulbous head with a cavernous mouth. Struggling, the creation known as Golem arose from the dirt, its first appearance since the ill-fated fight on the highway. Steadying itself, its hollow eyes scanned the park. For the most part, the grounds remained empty. The only person that Golem could see sat a few hundred feet away from it, head bowed over a knitting needle and a ball of yarn in disarray. They wore a large gray hoodie that concealed much about the person. Blue jeans and generic sneakers rounded out the look. Though his creation sported no nose, Drew could smell the strong odor of pine and motor oil. Another familiar scent lingered just below that, but he had a hard time latching onto it. The scent had a foul strength to it and made a ball of ice form in Drew’s belly.

  Something was off here.