He sets them back down on a chair, and then pulls out a seat for me facing the lake. "Sit," he says, more like an order than an invitation. Knowing that I can't very well go search for Mattie again with Clyde lurking around, I sit down and allow him to push in my chair. He takes a seat next to me. Twisting the cap off the wine, he pours some in a beautiful wine glass before handing it to me.
"Pizza?" he asks with a tilt of his eyebrow.
"Please," I murmur.
He loads a gigantic piece on my plate with a generous amount of salad and a breadstick. He sets the plate in front of me. "Dig in." Lifting his glass, he waits for me to do the same.
"Cheers," I say, extending my glass to his.
We eat together quietly and my eyes stray to the lake often. Clyde refills my wine glass whenever it's half-full. I have no idea how much I've truly had to drink, but I'm beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol. When I set my napkin back on the table, Clyde abruptly pulls my chair to face him and asks, "Who are you?"
Startled, I answer honestly. "I'm Violet O'Shea."
He pulls my plastic school ID card from his pocket. "Art teacher, Chicago Public Schools."
I nod my head. "That's right." I take the card from him.
He reaches in his pocket again, pulling out my prescription bottle of antidepressants from Dr. Gobel. He sets them on the table like an accusation. "What are you doing here, Violet?"
I immediately take the medication from the table and shove it in my pocket with my ID. My chin drops and I mumble, "I told you. I own this house now."
"Yeah, you told me. Matt's dead, right?" Clyde says sarcastically. "How'd he die, eh?"
"Someone shot him," I murmur.
He nods skeptically. "These gunshot wounds killed him, and then what? Matt just left you this house?"
"Everything...he left me everything."
"Why would he do that?" Clyde scowls.
"I was his fiancé," I say candidly.
Clyde's eyes widen. "His fiancé? But you're..." He looks me over from head to toe.
I touch my hand to my hair, knowing it looks a bit wild. It spills over my arms in brown waves. "I'm what?"
"Human," Clyde says softly, watching my reaction.
I blink before I look down at myself, and then back at him. "Uh, yeah, I'm not a Barbie like he used to date. I'm normal, just like you."
His lips stretch in a grim line. "Yeah...just like me."
He jumps up then in agitation; his chair skids away from him. Striding to the glass door of the house, it opens instantly for him. He enters yelling, "SO-WAH!" SOA materializes in front of him and Clyde rants, "WHAT THE FFFFUUU—"
"Careful," SOA cuts him off in warning, "don't lose your head."
I rise from my seat and go to the doorway. Clyde growls at SOA. "Matteyo can't be dead! I'm still marked!" Clyde holds up his wrist, displaying his tattoos. "Where is he?" Clyde demands.
"That is classified," Source One Alpha states.
"Who else knows Matt has divided?" Clyde demands.
"Maybelle Younger and—"
"MAY KNOWS!" he shouts, his hands balling into fists. "Fffffffaaaaaa! We're screwed! It's only a matter of time before she comes here! We gotta go!" Clyde starts ranting again, but in a language I've never heard before. I watch him for a few moments and hear SOA answer him with the same gibberish.
Paling, I feel disoriented. I turn away from them to stare at the water. Darkness is descending and a storm will be rolling in soon; lightning flashes in the sky beyond the cliffs. The wind is still calm yet, but the temperature is dropping.
I shiver and pull the blanket closer. The phosphorescent glow of fireflies illuminate randomly across the patio. But, over the lake where I'd been earlier, it's a different story. The fireflies have collected like a neon sign, blinking as one as if to say: here, here, here.
Clyde approaches me from behind and grabs my elbow. He snarls, "We have to go. Now!"
"What? Why?" I argue, trying to wrest my elbow away from him, but his grip is too strong.
"So-wah was listening in on May when she was trashing Matt's apartment; he has filled me in on what's been going on in Chicago for the past few months. Matt's an idiot—I don't care if he is the most powerful being on the planet; he's still an idiot! What was he thinking? By making you his fiancé he has made you a target! The shooting wasn't random. They tried to assassinate you when they found out that Matt intended to marry you."
"What are you talking about?" I ask. Adrenaline enters my bloodstream like a chemical reaction. "What kind of person does something like that?"
Clyde lets go of my elbow and uses his fingers to tick off suspects. "May Younger, her family, the Gramercies—take your pick. They're not about to let Matteyo marry a human. He's the Sweven. He can make you his slave, but you can't be his wife!"
"His slave?" My mind reels at the implication of that word. "Who are you freaky people?"
He groans and threads his fingers behind his head before looking up at the sky. "You think we're people? We're Willas! How can you be Matt's fiancé? Why didn't he tell you anything?" He grasps my elbow again and pulls me toward the house, picking up my purse in his other hand. "Do you have anything else you need? We're leaving now."
"I'm not going anywhere!" I fight against him in earnest. Dragging me inside like I weigh nothing, he grabs my wallet out of my purse. He shoves it in his back pocket before tossing my purse aside. Then he changes tactics; bending down, he hoists me over his shoulder. When I struggle to break free, his hand comes up and swats my butt. "Stop! If they find you, you're dead."
He moves toward the front door. In moments, we're outside by Mattie's SUV. He sets me down on my feet and opens the passenger door for me. "WAIT!" I shout, resisting his hand on my back as he urges me to get in. "You said something before about Mattie being divided! What did you mean by that?"
Clyde pauses. He takes my wallet from his pocket and throws it on the seat before he says, "Matt's energy was divided from his body. He was shot, right?"
I nod.
He shakes his head. "It would've probably stopped his heart for a few days, but his body would've healed itself. His energy would've remained until his body was fixed. Something happened to divide him from his body."
"He would've healed? How's that possible?" I ask, as fear raises bumps on my flesh.
"We're not like you, Violet. We have several more chromosomes than you and our genes that control the integrity of those chromosomes are—we don't have time for me to explain this!" He moves to pick me up again.
I try to distract him. "You're not like me?" I reach out and touch his warm arm, tracing the serpentine symbols that twist over his wrist. "What are you like?"
When my eyes meet his blue ones again, he says, "I'm like all the other Willawayetians. Matt is one of us—the strongest—the Sweven."
Whatever color I had in my cheeks has to be gone. "So...you're, what? An—"
"Alien," he says before I can get the word out. "But I'm sure I've been here longer than you, so technically you're the noob."
My hands begin to tremble, but I smirk in disbelief, "How long have you been here?"
He shrugs. "A few hundred years."
My mouth feels dry as I say sarcastically, "Only a few hundred?"
He gives me the first smile since the convenience store. "Yeah, but I'm very young."
My fingers recoil from him. I take a step back. "Matt is an alien?"
Clyde's smile slips away. "He's the Sweven—the vision in our dreams and our ruler in this district."
"This district?" I squeak.
"Earth," he replies.
"Why are you here?"
"Why are you here? Why is anybody here?" Clyde asks with exasperation. When I just stare at him he growls and says, "Think of Earth as a fiefdom. Matt is the overlord of this planet. He holds it for our race."
"Matt is the ruler?" I choke on the word.
"He is," he replies grimly. "There are other Willas in other realms who
are equal to him in power. But make no mistake, he is feared everywhere. He's the ruler of this district."
"When you say ruler—"
His eyes narrow and he moves to try to pick me up again. I hold up both my hands and rest them against his chest. "Wait!" He stops, looking at my hands on him. "How can you tell that Mattie is still your leader—even when he's...urr, divided?"
"My markings would've disappeared if he'd been destroyed."
"You'd lose your tattoos?" I ask. "How? Why?"
"That's not important now! How did Matt become separated from his body?"
"I told you! Someone with a gun—"
Clyde sighs in frustration. "I mean after he was shot. What happened afterward?"
"One of the bullets tore through Mattie and into me. We fell together on the sidewalk; he was lying next to me." I glance up at Clyde's eyes and my throat tightens painfully, making me whisper, "There was so much blood."
"Then what happened?" he urges me.
Removing my hands from him, I rub my forehead, trying to think. I swallow hard against the lump in my throat. "Then he said he loved me—that everything would be okay." My voice gets thin again. "He reached for my hand—he was the one dying and he was trying to comfort me. He's like that—always in charge, you know?" I ask.
Clyde nods, "I know."
"The paramedics—they wouldn't let me stay with him! I begged them, but they wouldn't listen to me. They strapped me to a gurney—I don't remember much after that. When I woke up, I was in a hospital room—Stan was there."
"Stanley Parker?"
"That's right, do you know him?
He snorts and says, "Yeah, I know him—Matt's one-hundredth college roommate, complete slacker, along for the ride."
I ignore his comments. "He told me Mattie was dead. He said Mattie's body was a mess. Mattie didn't have any family and I was sedated, so Stan made the decision to have Mattie cremated. He made all the funeral arrangements."
"He had Matt burned! Of all the stupid—" Clyde exhales a deep breath in an attempt to gain composure. "You're sure? Does he still have him? Where are Matt's ashes now?"
"Safe," I lie. The urn is on the dock by the lake, hidden under my t-shirt, but I'm not telling him that.
Clyde grasps both my upper arms and lifts me off my feet to his eye level. With his jaw clenched tight, he says, "Where are Matt's ashes? We need them, Violet. Without them, I have nothing to bargain with May or the Gramercies for your life."
Whatever fear I was feeling at his anger and strength is pushed back at the mention of May's name. "She's never getting him!" I promise with a scowl.
"You might feel differently when she's ripping your teeth out one by one," Clyde counters.
"I'll take my chances," I growl.
"You won't be alone!" he retorts. "I'm obligated to protect you. Wherever you go, I go—and I gotta tell you, we're outnumbered and outgunned. Without his ashes, we have nothing!"
"I don't want your help! I want you to leave me alone!"
His lips stretch in a grim line. Pivoting, he dumps me on the passenger seat of Mattie's truck before he slams the door shut. He's at the driver's side door in only a fraction of a second, climbing in and starting the ignition. "I don't care what you want. You'd better start listening to me; I'm the only friend you've got."
"My friends don't abduct me, Clyde," I retort, going for the door handle to escape.
His hand glows with green fire as he lifts it up. My door is frozen shut. I try to lift the lock, but it won't budge.
I glance back at Clyde, breathing heavily.
"They do if you're marked for death."
The rain begins to fall outside. It spatters the windshield in soft drops that cut the beams of the headlights. As I look out at it, a hulking shape ape-drops from a tree in front of us...and then another and another and another. A shadowy figure sidles down the dog-eared ivy from the rooftop of the house. Fear like I've never known before makes me feel as if I'm swallowing marbles.
Clyde groans next to me. Urgently, he looks in the backseat and finds the brown bag he gave me at the store. Plucking the tube of sunblock from it, he twists off the cap. He lifts my hand in his and squeezes a huge dollop onto my palm. "Smear this on your skin," he says.
"Who are they?" I ask.
"They're Gramercies," he says. "Put it on!" He shoves my hand toward me.
In shock, I rub my palms together, and then apply the lotion to my legs.
"Get your arms and face, too," he urges. "Hurry!"
Absently, I rub my arms, and then with what is left, I apply it to my face. While still rubbing my skin, Clyde holds up the vodka and takes a giant gulp of it.
"Did you put that on your lips?" he asks.
"No," I shake my head.
"Good. Don't." He lowers the vodka and hides it behind the steering wheel as he pours a little in his hand, rubbing it on his neck like cologne.
"Are ya gonna share that?" I grasp the neck of the bottle, touching his hand.
He flinches and yanks his arm with the bottle back from me. Smoke and red welts rise from where I touched him. "Ahhh!" he hisses. "Do me a favor and try not to touch me with that crap. And if you want to live, play along!"
The doors of the truck all unlock, seemingly on their own, and fly open. The shapes move so fast they blur, and then stop just outside the pools of light from the truck. This must be madness, I think. I've gone mad.
Chapter 5 – ASHES TO FIRE
"Just so you know, we're probably dead, unless you want to tell me where Matt's ashes are," Clyde mutters grimly. I shake my head no. "We're screwed," he says under his breath, before he stumbles drunkenly from the truck to face the men outside.
Thunder rumbles in the distance as rain makes dark marks on Clyde's t-shirt. He raises the vodka bottle to his lips and takes a huge sip. Pulling it away from his lips, he wipes his mouth on his sleeve, swaying a little. After squinting into the darkness, he grins broadly. "Heeeyyyyy! It's the Gramercies!" he laughs drunkenly, gesturing in their direction with his arm. "Gramercies...do you guys ever just laugh at the irony of your name? You know, since you're all such ruthless, unmerciful bastards?" He takes another swig of vodka.
Five men prowl forward from the shadows and into the pools of light from the headlights. One has on a long, black leather coat with a soft cowl-like hoodie over his short blond hair "You're funny, Clyde, for a member of the Parish family," comes his deep, rumbling voice. He scratches his beard; he's a beast of a male who looks like he lives at the gym. "It's tragic how your uncle sold you into servitude—he probably wasn't aware of just how entertaining you can be."
Clyde receives the comment with a grin. "It's sad, eh, Milligan, to be so misunderstood? He's a serious Willa. No sense of humor." He squints at the males next to Milligan. "Did you bring the whole gang with you? It's Joplin, Tellico, Ellis—FLOYD!" He points at the enormous one who looks like he regularly chews on nails. "I see the arm grew back, Floyd! You can't still be mad about that—you dared me to rip it off—"
Milligan puts up his hand as Floyd takes an aggressive step toward Clyde. Floyd stops, but he watches Clyde with a vicious snarl on his lips. Rain drips off Milligan's woolen hood. "This isn't a social call. We're looking for something. Maybe you can help us out with it?"
"Maybe I can, but can you answer me a question first?"
"What's that, Clyde?" Milligan asks with a sinister smile.
"Why do you guys always have such shit timing? Can't you see I'm on a date here?" Clyde gestures to me in the truck.
"She must not know who you are," he smirks. "Or does she like slaves?"
"Sweetheart," Clyde calls, reaching out his hand and gesturing for me to join him. "Come here."
I feel my heart speed up and beat out of sync. My eyes follow the length of Clyde's outstretched arm to his eyes. He squints at me silently, his blue eyes communicating the weight of his request. I square my shoulders and emerge from the truck. Rain wets my hair as I try to plaster a sensual
kind of smile on my lips.
I walk to his side. Clyde gathers me to him when I'm within reach; his hand cups my butt as he draws me to his strong chest. The caress causes my skin to alight with a new awareness of him. His other hand threads in my hair, holding my head still so I can't pull away as his lips move to mine. He kisses me deeply, and I groan in surprise, not only because I didn't expect him to kiss me, but also because the heat of it sends shivers through me.
Slowly, Clyde ends our kiss, pulling back and biting his bottom lip for a moment as he gazes into my eyes, like he felt something, too. "She doesn't know what I am. She only knows that she likes it. Isn't that right, Brie?" Clyde calls me by the wrong name with a wicked smile. He pretends to look me over with lover's eyes.
I twirl a piece of my hair around my finger as I smile softly. "That's right, baby."
Clyde acts like he can't look away from me as he says to Milligan, "I know you're not here to see me—an untouchable. I haven't seen Matt around lately. He doesn't check in with me."
"We're not looking for Matteyo. We're looking for his human."
"His human?" Clyde's eyebrow rises in question as he glances at Milligan. "Matt has a human?"
Milligan sounds amused. "He does. Or did. He doesn't have much of anything now." Deep rumbling laughter comes from the Gramercies behind Milligan. I stiffen and Clyde pulls me tighter to his chest in warning, rubbing my back.
"I haven't seen Matt in over a year. He doesn't check in with me. Tell him to call me when you find him, there's a bunch of shit I need from him." Clyde's arm shifts to my shoulder as he turns and walks us back toward the house.
"Where are you going? We're not done here, Clyde."
Clyde doesn't stop, but moves toward the front door of the house. "Fine, just let me get rid of Brie so we can talk more openly. I don't want to have to censor her because you've said too much."
Headlights from the dark part of the driveway turn on, illuminating us all. I look over my shoulder at the feminine form emerging from the vehicle. I recognize May instantly. The hood of her scarlet coat covers her long blond hair and most of her face, but I'd know her anywhere because of her bearing. She walks with the poise of one who expects the world to bow at her feet.
Take Me To Your Reader: An Otherworld Anthology Page 4