Prince in the Tower

by Stephan Morse

  "Kid’s going down this way. Over here!" Her words were easiest to pick out. They carried further into the objects about me than the two men.

  I hesitated after she yelled. The woman’s tone warbled with a vibration reminding me of someone, but I couldn’t tell who. Was she mad at me or her comrades? Perhaps if it had been just her I might not have run.

  Their footsteps were harder to feel as they moved out of the sanctuary I'd worked on. Hearing distorted from layers of metal. Sound echoed in odd ways as I crossed more corners.

  Must escape.

  I mistakenly turned left instead of right and found myself at a dead end. My arms and legs banged loudly as I worked to back up and go out the right exit. Sunlight greeted me down the correct turn. For a moment I winced as something pounded behind my eyelids. A beat, like my heart was thudding louder than ever before.

  Escape was so close, so important, that I missed the large shadow moving. The larger man I'd felt upstairs grabbed me from the tunnel’s exit. His arms struggled to get a lock on my flailing limbs. I snarled, growled, and kicked anything that moved.

  Hunters! Dangerous!

  "Whoa, this is no malformed pup," the large man said.

  "No, he's not," the third person spoke. He stood still back a ways while the other two were too close. "A pity. That would have been easier."

  Both feet jerked and my gut clenched, frantically trying to kick my way to freedom.

  "This a one oh one?" the man holding me asked.

  "Likely. I'm not sure what kind though,” their leader responded.

  I struggled, and they talked right over my head. The girl was busy clinking objects.

  "He's some sort of fire attribute, and is strong as hell." The large man had me pulled tightly against him. Arms wrapped around mine, legs locked against one side to prevent violent kicking. "Whoa, boy. Calm down," the one holding me said.

  I shouted words that made no sense. Garbled half spoken things. The sensation in my mind was creeping up and swallowing vision in its wake. Heat turned up, steaming the air.

  "Not going to be able to hold him much longer!" the large man bellowed.

  "I got ’im!" she said.

  Clinking preceded a pair of cuffs being clamped over my wrists. I jerked my hands and arms trying to break this binding. They persisted through my efforts.

  Too weak. Too young.

  "They on?" the big one asked.

  "Drop ’im," she said.

  Suddenly I was flopping on the ground. Both feet struggled to get under me but nothing worked right. My arms jerked over and over struggling to get purchase.

  "Not a wolf. Not an elf in disguise. Daylight so not a vampire. Definitely a one oh one," the female judged.

  I managed to get my legs in order and tried to bolt between the female and smaller man. The man did something that tripped me up, and like a flash he was pressed over me, pinning my smaller frame to the ground.

  The world grew heated but it wasn't enough. There was no fire, only warmth. Inside my head the deeper voice was repeating itself. Giving me impressions of their clothes, listing each twitch of this trios’ muscles as a reason to escape.

  "I've got to ask, kid. You're not a wolf, right?"

  A what? I huffed with pain, almost squeaking.

  "See, wolves have rights, and god knows I can't stand the paperwork nightmare that'd be. If you're a wolf I may just kill you to save myself the headache." The dangerous man held me down and snarled in my ear.

  I shuddered, either from pain or his tone of voice. Eventually my head shook. I wasn't one of those fuzzy things.

  "Good. You got parents?" their leader asked me.

  I shook my head again while trying not to seize up. The man was heavy and he showed no signs of lightening the load. The other two hadn't moved very far from behind us.

  "No hopping like that one in Dales," the irritated woman commented.

  "No spitting either. God, that thing was gross," the large man who’d captured me said.

  The woman jerked my head around and rubbed my temple. "I don’t feel any weird bumps. Nothing on his mop top. Looks like he's just a kid. A filthy one." Her face winced briefly.

  "Could be a disguise. Unless filth is a sign." The larger man brushed off his clothes from all the dirt and grime.

  "No. Dirt’s just dirt. It doesn’t mean they’re monsters, but the heat, this heat is something else."

  "Listen, you two," the man pinning me grunted. He struggled to hold me in place. The way he held me down, twisted just slightly, was nearly gentle despite my squirming.

  "Yeah, none of our business. One oh one's are yours."

  "Good, now help me get him into the car," the one holding me said.

  "You sure?" she asked.

  "Christ, you two, do you want me to kill this kid?"

  "Not really," the larger man said. "Jo?"

  The female stood off to the side. I could make out part of her features from where I was pressed into the ground. My face melded with dirt on one side, the other eye watering.

  "Yeah. Let’s get the kid up," she said while fighting back a frown that added years to her features.

  As soon as my legs were operational I kicked. They barely flinched, instead braving the damage to grab both legs. I bent one direction, then the other. Nothing got me loose, and with my arms bound by those cuffs it was even harder to make headway. Not to mention they were each at least half again my size. Even the female dwarfed my childish body.

  One opened a door into their noisy metal box. The two males wedged me into the back while I struggled and screamed. Not one sane word had popped out of my mouth this entire time. Then they slammed the door shut.

  I dashed around the little compartment looking for handles, signs of structural weakness, small places to crawl into and hide. Finally I curled up near the far end, glaring at the other figures who stood outside talking.

  Moments passed, then the larger male and female left. The other male, who had pinned me down before, got into the front through another door. The sudden nearness sent me scrambling to the other side of the rear cabin and away from the dangerous man.

  Another head popped up from the front. This figure was smaller, red headed and annoyingly cheery. The same boy who'd shown up before was now sitting in the front with no fear of the larger male.

  "Hey, Dad, you found my friend!" Daniel said.

  "Yeah?" The man raised an eyebrow and turned around to glance at me again. "You sure, little man?"

  "Yeah, big man! This is my friend. He smells like brimstone. Only without the cat piss."

  "Does he now?" His gaze turned harsh for a moment then slackened as the younger boy looked up. I watched the transformation pass by so smoothly it might have been imagined.

  "Only sometimes. Like when he's mad or hungry. He's hungry a lot."

  "Most boys are." The older man smiled at Daniel. It looked nothing like the other boy’s too wide grin or the teeth from my memory.

  "He's not a monster though, not like the one you told me about!"

  "No. I agree, he's not like the others." My belly rumbled and Daniel’s father almost smiled at me. It nearly broke what little sanity I had left to get a look like that. One part pity, part worry.

  "So you won't..."

  "We'll see how it goes, little man."

  I remembered how to speak in proper English. "I want my stuff," I muttered. Daniel’s father gave me a calculating glare, put his car into drive and hit the gas.

  That night’s memory recall ended, leaving me sweating in the cot with my hands clamped over my mouth. Nathan’s body lay still, and Leo’s body took slow, deliberately even breaths.

  The days went on.

  I stood in the cell counting items, trying not to panic. Something was missing from my small stash of items but my thoughts were so scrambled I couldn't figure out exactly what it might be. I'd been unable to sit here safely and keep things guarded.

  Going into the yard, doing my work, roaming the area, ev
erything came with risk. It was impossible to stop. I collected gleaming rocks, stole coins from another man’s cell, and even a bar someone had dropped from the workout bench. Not because I needed a weapon but because of the reflection.

  My nature had compelled me. I recognized the actions for what they were. The desire to gather these objects coupled with a need for patrol. Like some weird cat bird dog mixture of insanity. It was part of my nature, a giant beast with the leathery wings needed to hoard.

  Small treasures were hidden when no one was looking. The bar went above the cell door. Coins and rocks into the unused mattress above me. Nothing clever enough to stop a real search.

  This sort of thing had been happening to me since the first day. Find a place to call my own. Start amassing useless belongings. At least I hadn't dug through trash or anything outright filthy. Even the rocks were carefully washed and scrubbed clean.

  And like all things I owned, there was a slowly forming connection. Threads of energy and lifeless colors would call me back each night as surely as the guard’s announcements over the speakers.

  Nearly three weeks and no one had tried to stab me. No one even approached me for conversation besides Leo. Spike had been out for two days without incident. Simms stopped conversation all together.

  He wasn't mine, therefore his problems were his own to deal with. I carefully felt each rock and went about my day. Lost in thought and growing scarily secure in the false peace Atlas Island was offering.

  The father’s car rattled and bounced across bumps. Divots jerked the vehicle into other lanes. Each jostle made the boy in front frown. He didn't like the car.

  I hated it. The movement made me sick. I slid down as far possible and covered as much of my head as I could with bound arms. Between elbows and forearms was a view of crisscrossed lattice.

  Home was growing farther away. Too far.

  "What are you going to do with my friend?" the boy asked.

  "I'm not sure yet, little man."

  They spoke about me like I wasn't present. Correcting them was beyond me. My stomach heaved despite the effort to swallow it down.

  "You all right back there?"

  Nodding was difficult, instead I shivered and swallowed again.

  "He looks sick, big man. Can we stop?" the boy said.

  "Sure." Noise clicked and the car slowly curved to one side. Noise vibrated through as dirt ground under heavy pressure.

  I swallowed again, tasting salt and ash. My arms trembled and vision blurred.

  In my head there was an unset growl. Not anger or rage, not fire or distinct words. It unhappily keened until the vehicle fully stopped.

  "Is he going to puke?"

  "Maybe," the father said.

  "Let him out!"

  "No can do, little man. I'm not going to risk you to whatever he is. What if he can fly?"

  I was too young to do more than glide.

  "He's my friend!"

  "So you've said." The father’s voice sounded displeased. It barely registered beyond the slow pounding of my heart.

  I was so far from home now. Farther than I'd ever dared walk.

  How would I find her if I left? What if she showed up needing my help? No one would be there. These people, this father and son who hunted were ruining it all. I fell onto the floor and lay curled between metal and upholstery.

  "Why's he upset? Doesn't he want to go home?"

  "Lots of these things"—the father paused and almost sounded embarrassed—"I mean non humans, find it hard to leave an area. Some get very violent."

  "Like he tried to kick Jo." The child sounded cheery. His voice was closer. I peered up and noticed he'd been staring at me. My arm covered my face and blocked the two out of sight. At least the nausea was easing.

  "You will call her Josephine, only her close friends use Jo."

  "But Jo—" Daniel paused. "Josephine likes me."

  "Until she gives you permission you will use her full name. Or Miss Kallum." Even though Daniel’s father sounded distracted, I sneaked another glance. Both of them had their faces near the metal, watching me for signs of anything.

  "Ugh. Motion sickness?" Daniel said. Only a child's voice could twist with that disgust.

  "Where did you—" The father sighed. "You're probably right. Kid, you ever been in a car before?"

  I jerked my head back and forth once, like I was shaking off something gross.

  "Ever been in a vehicle of any sort?"

  I was breathing easier. Leaving my space on the ground didn't feel right. Anywhere else back here would put me closer to their peering faces.

  "Train, plane, bus, anything?"

  "Or a bike."

  "Or a bike," the father agreed.

  I chose not to respond. My heart hammered fast still, the onset of sickness was replaced by an awkward fear. Their words, the judgment and almost wounded tone.

  "What do you think, little guy?"

  "Huh?"

  "Think about the hints we’ve gotten so far. Your friend has no family and says he’s never been in a car." The older man’s voice stayed low. "Heat, smells like brimstone. He looks like a boy about your age. Not human, not a wolf, not a vampire or elf. So he’ll be one of ours. Think on your lessons, what could he be?"

  The father was talking out loud for someone’s benefit. He hadn't talked like this when chasing me or working with the other two. It finally registered he was using me as a lesson.

  "Wanted his stuff? And motion sickness?" the boy said.

  "All might be signs, or might not be. What fits?"

  "I dunno."

  "What else is there?" the father asked.

  "Uhhh..." There was a pause and sharp intake of breath. "His fingers?"

  "Maybe. What do you see?"

  "He keeps rubbing the carpet."

  I did? A pleasant numbness had crept to my palm. Both eyes shot to my hand in accusation.

  "He speaks English,” the boy added another detail.

  "And some Greek if I heard right, but what does that mean to us, little man?"

  At that age, I had no clue what Greek could be.

  "That he's not a demon. Demons are bad and scream a lot. In funny words."

  "Demons are bound to speak in Latin. You'll have to start learning soon." The older man sighed. "Right though, not a demon, not any of the long lived races or he probably wouldn't know English. Maybe something that hibernates, but he has no Emerald Isles accent. It could be a protected voice, but there’s no itching, so he’s not psychic. What else?"

  "He's super touchy about his belongings too, big man," the boy said. Big man must have been a kind name for his father.

  "Oh?"

  "Yeah. Me and him fought about it. Up there in the warehouse." My nose still hurt from where the boy had kicked me during our fight.

  "You told your mother that was from a bike accident."

  "Oh, yeah"—the young man then corrected himself—"it was a bike accident. I was biking."

  "Is this where your allowance has been going?"

  "No… maybe…" He sighed. "Yes. He was starving."

  "So the break in, the thefts, and the police reports about a homeless boy were all him? The local pack also reported a possible runaway but they couldn't locate him."

  I felt a lot better physically, but not very well mentally. They had just kept right on talking over me this entire time.

  "Stop talking like that,” I demanded, and growled.

  "Like what?" the boy asked.

  "Like I'm not here."

  "Say please!" the young boy said.

  "What's please?" That wasn't a word I knew. Not from anywhere in my mind, not from the memories imparted by my father. Not from the slow rumblings in the back of my head that had finally died down.

  "It's what you say when you want something." A disapproving frown was across Daniel’s slightly freckled face. "Otherwise you don't get it."

  There were too many strange words. "What about those other things."

&nbs
p; "What other things?"

  "Vampires. And those wolves. The elves. Police. A bike. Cars. Trains."

  The father looked surprised, then sad, then finally turned away from the rear where I was locked up. "All right, I've made up my mind," he said.

  "Don't kill him, Dad!" Daniel squeaked.

  "I'm not, he's going to Forges. I don't know anywhere else to put him, and Tal owes me."

  "I don't like them."

  "You don't like his son, just because he's stronger than you."

  "What about my things?" I pressed up against the bars, confident they wouldn't attack me. They were taking me somewhere that might help provide sanity in this strange world. The first real ray of light I'd had since landing.

  I may have been ignorant of items like planes and cars, but I was animal enough to know danger and being alone was a huge risk. The only person who’d been vaguely kind so far was the boy in front who’d fed me. The mere thought of a warm meal made my belly rumble.

  "Okay, food, then Forges. If he decides to maybe Tal will take you to get your stuff." The father looked at me through the reflective object hanging in front of us.

  "Hamburgers!" Daniel shouted, eager for food himself.

  "Hamburgers. Please." No one could say I didn't learn quick.

  Prison moved slowly over the next week. People argued. Wolves and humans kept to different walls in every room. People made calls when allowed, others simply disappeared. Two were stabbed, both human, a wolf was sent to the other side of the island. One lucky person was released for redeeming himself in the eyes of our fine system.

  None of it mattered to me. None of it touched me. I'd walked around with a bubble few dared cross. Maybe it was the constantly angry glare I gave everyone. Maybe it was the man I'd slammed into a wall when he ventured into arms’ reach.

  Maybe it was because of what I was. As memories started to unfurl, it made sense. There was a vibe about me which scared most people off. Instinct was a powerful drive, and I'd never been the type to get along with others. The mopping and cleaning served me well. It was quiet and beat working the textiles like Simms or pounding out license plates like Leo.

  Despite it all, I was strung out mentally. It impacted my rest and left me exhausted each morning. Sometimes I rested against the wall. Other moments found me bracing against the cart while my legs wobbled. Reliving the memories wasn't unpleasant, but made focusing difficult. The capture of my senses, relaying past words and scents, textures, even emotions was making me feel volatile.