“I could have ducked; I could have run, dodged, or thrown coffee at him,” she said. “But all I did was shout for Suzanne. She was my big sister. So while I stood like the dumbest bitch in the dumbest B-movie of the year, I screamed for my sister to save me.”
A viscous gust of wind slapped the side of the conservatory, but Genna did not flinch. Her eyes were wide, staring fixedly out of the window.
“Suzanne didn’t have her gun anymore. She must have put it away or dropped it – I don’t know. I saw her jump up from the floor and throw herself at the gunman.
“The first bullet caught her in the shoulder. Somehow she stayed on her feet, but the bastard kept shooting. Every bullet pitched her closer to me. Two rounds passed right through. Her blood was on my face. I caught her as she fell down.
“Before the gunman could finish the job, one of the waiters shot and killed him.” Genna said. “I couldn’t move – Suzanne was lying on top of me. She’d taken five direct hits, five, but incredibly she was still conscious.
“’Doesn’t even hurt’, Suzanne said to me. She was crying. I’ll never forget those tears, or the way she looked. I held one of her hands, and – oh Joshua her skin was so cold. She said to me. ‘Promise you won’t let me be crippled.” Genna’s face crumpled, but she held on.
“She never spoke another word. Suzanne was very strong. Five bullets couldn’t finish her. So she survived, all right, but in the end her strength was her undoing, because it kept her in her coma.”
Genna buried her face in her hands.
Joshua reached out and took her in his arms. She clung to him fiercely. “I left her.” She sobbed. “For a whole year she waited. I can’t live up to her. It’s with me every day. It smothers everything I do or feel. Why did she have to play the hero?”
Joshua lifted her chin. “She cared, Genna; and died hoping you’d be all right. And you will be. I can’t begin to fill the gap your sister left, but if you let me I’ll try to…to help you.” He held her while she cried. Before long the sobs became hitches and murmurs, then the murmurs gradually became even respiration. She had actually fallen asleep.
Joshua raised his hand, gently stroked her hair that spilled across his knees. A torrent of newly born emotions flowed through him, each begging questions he was too inexperienced to answer. Love, anger, fear. Everything that had touched him since he left New Hampshire had influenced his psyche in one way or another, and he had tried to adapt accordingly. He wondered exactly how wide his capacity for change could stretch.
Through the windows he saw that a blanket of rain hid the city lights. Leaves and specks of bark blew against the windowpanes.
Genna moaned softly in her sleep; murmured something he did not quite catch. Another gust struck the house and the timbers creaked. Joshua rose from the sofa, cradling Genna in his arms. She stirred but did not wake, her twitching eyelids a flickering remnant of her dreams. He carried her to one of the back rooms and lowered her onto the bed, where she curled into a pillow, gripping it fiercely.
Joshua stepped back and for a minute watched her sleeping, then retreated to the bathroom and quietly closed the door. But for the wind and rain battering the exterior the house was quiet. He stepped up to the large mirror. For several minutes he met his own eyes, challenging himself, wondering which side of him bore the strongest will.
Deep in his own eyes he saw faint whirlpools of crimson, a manifestation of what lay within. He knew that outwardly he appeared human; looked, acted and sounded like any other man. He would age like any other man, he would eat, sleep, wake, make love like any other man. The difference was that he could not be physically hurt like any other man. But all other things being equal, he could live the remainder of his life without ever reverting to his alter ego. No one would know.
Apart from Genna.
“But you are different,” he said to his reflection. “Aren’t you?”
As if confronting his human side with his alter-ego, he allowed the beast within to rise. The dorsal fin of his inner self slowly surfaced. His eyes swam with brilliant color and his skin darkened. He unfastened his shirt and touched his chest. No more bullet wounds. Just flawless skin.
As he watched, the flesh started to writhe; he felt his bones shifting, heard the crunching and reforming of joints. Adrenaline coursed through his veins at the speed of an express train. Canine teeth pushed at his lips. The beast rose within him, eager to be born, and with it, the attendant consciousness of the animal – a primal force straining at its leash.
He squeezed his eyes closed and brought his jaw together with an audible crack. Clenched his teeth and made fists, pushing back the power with as much effort as he could produce. When he opened his eyes, they were back to their natural color. Their human color. He touched the Wolf’s head amulet Barlow gave to him. The gold felt cold as a sliver of ice against his skin. “Damn you,” he whispered.
He quickly undressed, switched on the shower, and stepped in. He tried to imagine that every rub of soap on his skin, every cleansing wave of shower spray, helped him shed his dubious identity. He cranked up the temperature as high as it would go, as though he might sweat the beast out of his pores and send it down the drain.
On the shelf he found a long-handled body brush, and with it he scrubbed his skin until sure he’d evacuated every dead skin cell, every particle of the past few days.
At last he shut off the water and climbed out of the shower, selected one of three toothbrushes, smothered it with paste, and scrubbed his teeth until he broke the plastic handle; the bristles came apart and fell into the sink. He rinsed his mouth and swilled the basin.
Standing naked, he cleared away the condensation from the body length mirror and stared hard at his reflection. The tiniest of frowns touched his brow – a speculative expression. The action of showering had a positive effect. He saw only the reflection of a man. With curious hands he explored his body; his face, his chest, the outline of his ribs, the forest of his pubic hair, he cupped his genitals and squeezed them, ran his hand over his thigh, the small of his back, returning at last to his face.
“Joshua.” Genna tapped at the door. Dread had put a tremor in her voice. “Are you in there?” She knocked again before trying the door. It was unlocked, and so she went straight in.
Though mist from the shower filled the room, she could see well enough to realize Joshua was naked. Nevertheless, she did not look down upon his nakedness, but straight into his eyes. When she saw him standing there, her shoulders relaxed. Lying on the bed had messed her hair, but her complexion was ruddy, her eyes bright and alert.
“Are you all right?” Joshua asked her.
Genna nodded. “Sure – I just…I didn’t know where you were.” She ran a hand through her hair, stifled a yawn, and then suddenly acknowledged he was naked. She blinked, looking down at him, and only after seeing everything he had to show did it occur to her she might avert her eyes. “Ooops!” she backed out of the room. “Sorry!”
A touch nonplussed, Joshua glanced down at his body. Although he knew of the embarrassment most people felt about nudity, he never understood why.
Later, dressed in his jeans and a shirt, his hair still damp, Joshua sat on the edge of the bed while Genna held onto one of his hands. If she felt any embarrassment over seeing him naked, she hid it well.
“You’ll leave Los Angeles?”
“Where would I go?” he answered. “What would I do?”
“America’s a pretty big place,” she said. “We could head east.”
He hung a moment on her words. “You’d come with me?”
Genna smiled wanly. “There’s nothing left here.”
On the exterior Joshua remained solemn, but inside he swooned under a rush of gratitude. Genna’s blessing the final element, the one thing he needed from her that enabled him to go forward.
Then why the persistent apprehension?
Genna drew closer to him. At first he resisted, hardly trusting himself not to take her in his arms
, crush her in his embrace, refuse to let go, fearing that if he did he would never again hold her.
“Don’t you like being near me?” she asked.
Joshua looked down at her hand in his. “Oh yes,” he said. “But I feel something strange – something I’ve never felt before.” He held a hand to his chest. “Right here. Like I’m afraid of something…but I don’t know what.”
She placed a finger on his lips, kissed them tenderly, lingering for a moment. Her eyes only inches from his. “I think that’s the way it’s supposed to feel.”
Genna pulled him close to her, holding the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair. She became breathless and pulled away. She looked into his eyes, where the striations of crimson caught and reflected the light from the two wall sconces. She kissed his eyelids and in return he kissed her throat. Pulsing arteries drummed against his lips, sending a shudder of longing through him. She pushed her tongue into his mouth and made gentle probing, teasing movements. The juices of their mouths mingled; they tasted each other.
At last they parted. Both were slightly breathless. Joshua’s lips glistened from Genna’s tongue, and she brushed her thumb across them. “Come,” she took his hand and led him to the master bedroom.
Joshua allowed himself to be led. Sensual excitement burst in the air, in the touch of Genna’s hand, the look in her eyes. His own sexual energy responded accordingly, unspooling, gaining momentum.
Standing before the king-sized, silken-sheeted bed, Genna pulled Joshua toward her. She touched his face, pressed her lips to his, teasing his tongue with her own; just as Joshua had done with her, tasted him with exquisite relish. Her fingers fumbled at his shirt buttons.
They stood apart and began to undress, all the while retaining eye contact. Genna unfastened her robe and unceremoniously dumped it on the floor. Joshua stepped out of his jeans. A moment later they stood naked in the soft light. Neither made a move; nor did they speak. Instead they held onto the moment, staring at each other. Genna made the first move and closed the gap between them. She touched him lightly with her fingertips. His skin, several shades darker than hers, was smooth and flawless. His body muscular and symmetric; a build of athletic perfection of which he seemed unaware.
By comparison Genna looked girlish: her smooth skin bore few freckles, and in the coolness of the room her ample breasts pouted.
Genna kissed and gently used her teeth on his chest, tracing a silvery path from left to right. Her fingertips traced a delicate line down through his pubic hair, she grasped him and gently squeezed, moved her hand against his warmth. He pulsed in her hand.
As one they collapsed onto the sheets, kissing and grabbing and pulling at each other. Joshua outweighed Genna by nearly seventy pounds, but she did not allow him to dominate. She fought playfully against him until she finally came out on top, her thighs astride him. She grinned through her hair, one hand pressed against his chest.
Joshua relaxed his head into the pillows. Genna took him in her hand, squeezed him and then with a silent though near desperate cry of pleasure, lowered herself. Her inner thighs met Joshua’s outer thighs and gravity held her there. With unhurried movements she started gyrating her hips smoothly left and right, never farther than a couple of inches in either direction.
Locked in perfect motion with her movements, Joshua slid his hands along the ivory smoothness of her thighs, though never did his caresses become so eager that he impeded her movement.
Time and space melted as they lost themselves in their union. Soft light cast a bright sheen on the plumpness of her breasts. Her expression of concentration became one of pleasure so close to pain. She grasped the bed-sheets and cried out. The moment, though in real time only brief, seemed to stretch for an eternity.
Finally she opened her eyes, breathless and smiling, holding him deep inside her.
Joshua rolled over so that he lay atop of her, his own climax held off with careful control. He propped himself up on his elbows to ease his weight off her.
Through the pores of his skin, through the sensory receptors exclusive to the animal kingdom, through his mouth and his touch, he tasted the beautiful woman he was making love to; her saliva mingled with his, her sweat he drank with his own skin, and her musky warmth embraced him. He experienced her through a hundred individual receptors; absorbing her mood and drinking it like wine. He felt accepted with every moan of pleasure Genna made, every pull of her hands that drew him closer to her. She raised her knees but did not grip him. In that moment, he believed that there were not two people in the bed, but only one.
Afterwards they remained locked together for several minutes. Neither of them spoke. Only their heavy breathing broke the room’s stillness.
Joshua finally raised his head and looked into Genna’s eyes. A lock of damp hair clung to her forehead. Beads of perspiration rolled down her temples. She was still breathing heavily, panting almost, though Joshua had completely recovered. He delicately brushed the hair from her eyes. To allow this she closed them, and she didn’t move until her respiration returned to normal.
When he finally rolled off her, they lay together in silence for several minutes. At last Genna kissed his mouth before sliding off him and disappearing into the bathroom.
Joshua swung his legs to the floor and looked into the mirror. He cocked his head and surveyed the contours of his naked body, first standing face on, and then sideways. Using his fingertips he explored his face and his chest, raked through his hair, swept it back from his forehead. He ran his hands over his entire body, needing to touch himself. Something had changed…
And then he realized his amulet was missing. He touched his chest, as though needing to affirm by touch that it was indeed gone. Then he saw it. On the crumpled bed-sheets, the chain links broken. He bent forward to retrieve it, but checked himself, and straightened. The locket did not define him.
He turned back to his reflection, marveling at his decidedly human form. Behind him, muffled by the door, came the sound of the shower kicking in and the spatter of water against the shower-guard. His girl; bathing after a session of lovemaking. He sensed the changes in him as they occurred. They felt good. They felt right.
But something else had changed. This new direction in his life came at a price. He cared greatly for Genna - more than he cared for himself - and he feared for her. The thought of losing her, the mere idea, filled him with knee-weakening fear.
Salvatore Durant stood behind the seats of his Surveillance controllers, watching them operate the hardware for which he had paid over two million dollars: the motion detectors, the heat sensors, the trip wires, the electrified fence, the generator, and the electronic eyes. Over two dozen closed-circuit cameras held strategic positions throughout the complex. Every scrap of ground from the exterior fence inward was covered by the control room’s lidless eye. Several cameras came equipped with infra red capabilities, including the master cam, which sat at the highest point of the building and could whip and pan to all point of the compass.
Durant watched the screens pensively. A wide angle view picked out armed men patrolling the fence-lines in pairs. On one screen a mean-looking Doberman paced back and forth along the outer fence, shoulder blades moving lithely under a smooth, glossy coat.
“What’s that?” Durant pointed to the largest screen in the bank of monitors, where a monochrome image displayed the heat signatures of the guards, the lights, and the dogs. Durant’s finger tracked the progress of an elusive heat source that darted from one secluded position to another. The outline of a guard passed to within a meter of it. Durant noticed his finger trembling; he snatched the hand back into a fist.
Oblivious of his boss’s apprehension, the controller squinted at the monitor. “Probably a squirrel,” he said. “The camera will pick up anything that produces heat. I see them all the time; raccoons, squirrels, even feral cats. They bypass the fences using the trees.”
Durant nodded but didn’t feel in the least bit assured everything w
as fine and dandy. Regardless of the cutting-edge technology, the weight of tremendous firepower, he could not dispel the persistent tingle of fear. Even standing close to the screens that displayed the exterior made him feel nervous, exposed to the outside, as though the terror that stalked them might reach through the monitor and strike him down.
He returned to the panic room behind the false paneling at the top of the hall, locking the door behind him, and in the stillness released a shaky breath. Alone now, he held his hand out in front of him and watched his fingers tremble. Seeing the movement, feeling the coiled sensation of fear in his gut, he slapped a hand to his forehead and squeezed the flesh. He dropped stiffly into the leather chair, staring at the weapons on the desktop in front of him. An MP5 together with five magazines, an AK47, several other automatic weapons, and a surface to air Stinger rocket launcher. He dragged the MP5 across the desk and jammed in a clip.
He glanced up at the mirror above the drinks cabinet, and was startled by his reflection. His usually slicked-back silver hair now rose from his skull in a parrot’s crest. With the MP5 slung over his shoulder, the dark bulletproof vest covering his torso, he looked like the world’s oldest G.I. Joe, though far from the world’s bravest. In that moment he glimpsed an unwelcome insight of the limits of his powers. His cheeks were pinched and drawn, his eyes bloodshot and wide, the flaps of his nostrils flared. A far more alarming revelation emerged like a grinning skull through his skin: he was afraid. The nervous tic in his cheek threatened to return.
Leaving Genna sleeping peacefully beneath the satin sheets, Joshua crept out of the bedroom and sat before the telephone in the living quarters. Wearing only his jeans, he reached for the handset and dialed Barlow’s number, swallowing thickly as he waited for the old man to answer. While listening to the phone ring three thousand miles away, he looked over his shoulder at the bedroom door, hearing Genna’s steady respiration. Knowing she was there gave him strength.
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