Unnaturals

by Dean J. Anderson

  `You lie like you kiss,' Sally whispered, her grip on him tight. `Something spooked you enough to stop kissing me.'

  `It's nothing, Sal. I just overreacted.' He put his arm around her and judged the distance between him and the branch. If their watcher moved, he would not hesitate.

  Sally stopped, squeezing his arm hard. `You can't keep pushing me away when something gets weird, Wil. I accept what happened last year was terrible and I can't understand what nearly dying was like, but I've been here for you. Staying with you in the hospital and listening to you scream in your sleep. I came here to the island so we can be together, to be with your family. Let me in, Wil.'

  He looked at her. Blue eyes full of life held his gaze. How much could he tell her?

  `Okay, okay.' He kissed her on the cheek and began walking slowly, her hand in his. `The nightmares I don't think I can ever talk to you about.' Wilson shuddered as unwelcome memories threatened to surface. He felt her hand squeeze his, but no questions came. `I guess it freaked me out back there. At the funeral, just before it happened, everything went quiet like that. Like something was watching us, from the shadows.'

  `You thought something bad was going to happen to us?'

  `Yeah.' He glanced at her and at the trees up on the dunes. The shadow had vanished from the tree, grass moved farther up the dunes and he spotted it slipping away. Good.

  `Do you want to go and find Mr D?'

  `No, I don't want him getting worried. Besides, I'm hungry.' His stomach rumbled.

  `Ha,' Sally snorted, bumping him with her hip. `There's the Wil I know. Always hungry.'

  `Yep, starving actually.' He pulled her into his arms, her face close to his. `Are we cool about what happened back there?'

  `So far,' she said, kissing him lightly. `But from now on you're going to spend all day not thinking about the past.'

  `Done.' Her smile was infectious and he couldn't resist tugging at her bikini string.

  `Oh, now you're interested.' She pulled away and rescued her top before it fell off. `I thought you were starving? Make your mind up — food or making out.'

  `Could we do both at the same time?'

  `Maybe.' She bit her lip and he raised an eyebrow. She winked at him. `Gotta catch me.'

  `Crap.' Wilson bolted after her, her long legs his focus, the shadow forgotten for the moment. He would deal with it later.

  Birdsong and insect life resumed in the trees of the island. Liquid purple eyes half-closed, she lay on the forest floor, panting, her glamour shimmering.

  The soft scales covering her body reflected the colours of the forest around her.

  `He saw me this time.' She shivered in the heat; no one had seen through her glamour before. `The boy actually saw me. Curse this collar.' Her body took shape as her gift faded, her hands nearly touching the collar around her neck. `Not good — getting sloppy with this on. If he can see me, the father will as well. Kill me for sure.'

  She used her claws, digging them into the tree to pull herself up.

  `I need to feed,' she whispered, touching the collar around her neck. Its iron touch burnt against the scaled flesh of her neck.

  `No. Find them.'

  She growled at the cold touch of the command in her mind. Her lip curled as she looked at the blood on her fingers. Bark flew as she tore at the tree in frustration. `Bitch!' she spat and moved towards the scent of the one she was compelled to find.

  Ruth sat back in the deck chair listening to Mason bustling around the villa's kitchen. He had always liked to prepare meals. Something about it made him happy and she liked Mason happy. She liked it a lot.

  `You opened the wine yet?' Ruth tapped the plastic wine glass on the table.

  `Yep, just getting the prawns out.'

  She smiled, closing her eyes. It had been a very long year, but now it was much better, more than she could have planned. She stretched. Mason was hers again. The darkness that had taken him from her was no longer in control. Even better, her year-long abstinence had yielded truly amazing results.

  `These are just great.' Ruth opened her eyes as Mason placed a plate full of cooked prawns in front of her. He smiled, already munching on one. `Gotta be fresh off the trawler?'

  `Yep, just like we always did for the holidays.' Ruth tapped her wine glass again. Mason was busy peeling another prawn. `Anybody would think you hadn't eaten one for yonks.'

  `Haven't,' he mumbled with a mouthful. `I, ah, I didn't have much need or desire for food. For so long eating became more about survival than enjoyment.'

  His prawn-stained grin made her flashback a few years, the last time they were on the island. Just before… `Wine and prawns, Mason; the two must go together.' She pushed the ugly images from her mind.

  `Yes, dear,' he drawled, bowing slightly. `I shall fetch the wine immediately.'

  She rolled her eyes at him. It had been so long since he had made her smile, let alone scream like he had in bed last night. The thought made her skin tighten. `Well hurry, man, my lips are parched and require moisture before we move on to dessert.'

  `Understood.'

  Ruth peeled and ate a prawn as he slipped inside. They were good. Even better, sharing them with Mason. It was a ritual they'd had for more than twenty years. First day on the island: wine, prawns and then a massage. She had missed that; Mason's hands on her, massaging away the tension. She had never found another who could do it like him.

  `Here we go.' He poured the red wine into her glass, releasing its fruity aroma and making her head swim. Everything had intensified since Mason had come home. .

  `We'd better hoe in while we can. The boy will turn up soon enough. He won't forget about the prawns.'

  `Maybe.' Ruth sipped her wine. Sally was a powerful distraction. `Remember the year he ate so many he was sick? Took him years to eat them again.'

  `Yeah,' Mason chuckled. `It was strange eating them without him around. Except now.'

  `Perhaps.' Ruth ate a prawn, savouring the double delight; its flavour and the fact Mason had peeled it for her.

  Mason sat up straight, eyes glazing over for a second.

  `What?'

  `I need to get something.' He stood up, prawn in hand, and ducked inside. She shrugged, wondering what he had to do that was so urgent. Ruth reached behind her, undoing her top, a surprise for Mason.

  `Hey Mum.'

  She let the bikini string go just in time, scratching at an imaginary itch, respecting the fact that Wilson had become quite uncomfortable about the whole nudity thing.

  `Hey you.' She smiled as Wilson sat down, his towel landing heavily on the table. Mason rustled around inside. She felt a twinge of disquiet and tried to ignore it. `Why aren't you with Sally?'

  `Believe me I would be, but… Something has come up.'

  `That's meant to happen, Wil.' she teased, stealing a prawn out of his hand.

  `Jeez, Mum.' He blushed and grabbed another prawn from the dish. `Don't do that, please. It's kind of weird.'

  `Sex is very natural. We all do it.'

  `Yeah, but not everyone talks about it like the weather.'

  `That's the problem.' She sat back and sipped her wine, savouring the taste. `If they did, things would be much easier.'

  `Yes,' he said, eyeing her as he ate. `You and might I have, but now you're talking to Sally about it. It's a problem, Mum, when she does something new and all I can think is that you've had a hand in it.'

  `Sorry to disappoint you but Sally is very creative herself. All she asked me about was birth control. That's it.'

  `Oh.' Wilson munched away. `Sorry, then.'

  `Apology accepted. What's your father doing?' She looked up as Mason stepped out onto the patio. A cold finger poked in her gut as he looked to Wilson and back to her.

  `Here.' He held out her handbag, his smile stiff.

  Wilson slipped his hand into the towel on the table beside her. She glimpsed a muzzle. `Thanks.' In her bag lay one of Mason's pistols.

  `You ready?'

  `Yea
h.' Wilson flexed his neck, mimicking Mason. Vertebrae clicked.

  Shit. Ruth swallowed. They were serious. Her hand tightened on the pistol as Wilson's face went hard.

  `About two hundred and fifty metres, east, in the tree line. It's… different.'

  `Yeah.' Wilson stood up. `It's not a Bloodells. I saw it earlier today watching me and Sally on the beach. Using some sort of glamour to try to make itself invisible.'

  Ruth found herself standing. Whatever `it' was had followed Wilson and Sally, her family. Anger came quickly to her — fucking Unnaturals. `Go get it.' She flicked the safety switch off and blinked.

  Mason was gone. Wilson was halfway up the slope to the tree line as she leapt off the patio.

  `Holy crap,' she muttered, pumping her legs hard. Mason had become a blur; bushes and tall grass rippled where he had passed. She caught a glimpse of movement as he disappeared into the tree line.

  `Wilson!' He didn't hear her but did his own disappearing act into the tree line. Her legs began to feel heavy as she pushed herself up the steep incline. Something wailed ahead of her, sending goosebumps across her flushed skin.

  Shouting erupted. Wilson.

  A fresh rush of adrenaline surged through her. Red flashed through the bushes just as she burst through, pistol held ready to fire as she had been trained.

  Anything hurting Wilson was going to die.

  `Oh.' This wasn't what she had seen before or been trained to kill. These didn't look like Bloodells.

  `Butcher!' The red-haired girl trapped in her husband's bear hug snarled. `Bastard!' Her long red hair writhed around her as she struggled in his grip.

  Ruth's aim faltered as Mason snarled, his face nothing like the man she loved. She saw a hatred and viciousness there, that sent her hiding behind a tree. He looked more dangerous than the woman he was fighting. What was happening? She shook her head. The Bloodells who had tried to kill her were all silent, lethal men.

  `Let her go!'

  A second voice made her look around the tree for Wilson. She found him with his face ugly with hate, gun raised, moving in closer to a small, dark-haired woman.

  `Get down on your knees, hands behind your head!' he shouted. His finger was tight on the trigger. But how was the dark-haired woman a threat?

  `Not going to happen.' The woman stepped towards Wilson, unafraid. White energy crackled across her hands. `Let her go, Butcher, or I fry the boy.'

  A witch.

  `Don't fucking move.' Ruth stepped forward and pressed her pistol against the witch's temple. She sagged and splinters of energy shattered into the trees. A dark, ugly bruise raced across the witch's skin and Ruth found herself smiling. `Get down on your knees.' Nothing happened. She lashed out, kicking the witch in the back of the knees so she fell forward.

  `Hah!' A third voice echoed in glee above her, but the witch had her attention. She pushed her to the ground.

  Wilson edged closer, pistol aimed high; he was scanning the treetops. `Show yourself!'

  Ruth knelt on the witch's back, grinding the pistol against her temple. `If you move I will kill you.' It was the truth, and the witch did not struggle under her.

  `Get down here.' Wilson still circled, watching the treetops. `I can see you. Either you come down or I shoot.'

  `Eek!'

  Ruth risked a glance upwards. Leaves and bark fell as a skinny girl moved lizard-like down the tree trunk.

  `Move over there.' Wilson waved the girl around so Ruth could see her as well. She looked terrible. A metal collar bit into her neck. Blood and leaves were stuck to her… Scales?

  Ruth realised the girl was naked. `What the hell are you?'

  `Scarla,' the lizard-girl whined, revealing fine sharp teeth. `Please, help me.'

  Cold washed over Ruth and the witch stiffened. The girl, Scarla, had disappeared. `Where'd she go?'

  `I think she teleported,' Wilson stuttered.

  Mason roared as Ruth watched the red-haired girl tear a muscled arm free from his grip. A warning died on her lips as he reacted.

  `Enough of this!' He flung the girl into the air. She spun mid-air and dropped back at him with long, darkened nails. Ruth's vision seemed to blur for a second as Mason lashed out. The sound of him striking the girl made her eyes water.

  The girl slammed into a tree. Blood sprayed and bones snapped.

  `Animals.' The witch writhed but Ruth shoved the pistol into her again.

  `You're the animals, coming here to our island home. Attacking my family.' Ruth enjoyed the sound of pain the witch made. She grabbed a hunk of dark hair and yanked. 'You have made a very big mistake by coming here.' She yanked at the witch's hair with each word, the pain on her face igniting a sensation in Ruth she had not felt before.

  `I didn't think you were like this,' Mason said, dropping the battered redhead beside the dark-haired witch. He rested a hand on Ruth's shoulder. She almost gasped at his touch. Everything around intensified, the sounds, smell and… desire.

  She looked down at her white hand, holding the witch's hair. `What's happening?'

  `It's our gift. It's what came to us the day of the funeral. It gives us the strength to protect our family.'

  `I don't want to be like Butcher.' The words lost meaning as her skin passed beyond white and began to marble. It was as if Mason's touch fed the strength she already had in her. The witch under her squirmed but Ruth pressed down and the movement stopped. She had done that. She had hurt an Unnatural. It made her smile.

  `You won't be.' Mason's lips touched her ear and a sound began to build deep in her. `You're different from me. You protect and love. I hate and hunt.'

  Ruth felt her body respond to the truth of his words. Her skin softened but his strength still flowed through her.

  `Mum, please.' Wilson's voice came faint amid the rush of noise in her mind. A sensation on her shoulder — Wilson's hand — made her look away from Mason.

  Why did Wilson have tears? `Mum, please don't change. Don't become like Dad, please. We don't need to…'

  Ruth was confused for a second. Wilson had gone. Her face was wet. She heard Mason's howl of rage as red hair swirled and the witch writhed under her.

  Wilson. She realised he was the crumpled shape on the edge of the clearing. He lay motionless, with blood streaming from his head. Her hand touched the wetness on her face. Red smeared her fingers. Wilson's blood.

  Her hand marbled rock hard as a dark rage welled up inside her and the darkness took over.

  Wilson heard it.

  A sound that made him move. His mother's voice distorted in a dark rage. Blood filled his vision as he tried to stand up. Pain sparked inside his head with each movement.

  `No. Stop!' He managed to wipe enough blood out of his eyes to see.

  Everything was wrong. `No, Mum, put her down!' He staggered closer as Ruth held the witch up by the throat, her feet kicking clear of the ground.

  Mason circled the now healed redheaded girl.

  Fear screamed at him. The women were terrified. Their faces filled with it as they watched Mason. He lunged.

  Wilson made a choice then. His parents were the monsters in this confrontation.

  `Dad, no!' He slammed into Mason and the ground shook. Impossibly hard flesh writhed under his grip but he didn't let go. `Stop, they're not—'

  Blue exploded into his head and the ground vanished under him.

  CHAPTER 5

  Mason cracked open an eye. Legs and arms lay across him in a jumble. His head ached and his tongue was swollen. What the hell? Through a gap in the limbs he could see a gravestone.

  `My arm,' Wilson muttered. Mason felt movement and knew it was Wilson's arm under him. He arched his back and cold air rushed in as Wilson rolled away.

  `Ruth.' Mason moved her legs. `Ruth?'

  She began to move slowly beside him. `That was, ah! like falling through a huge washing machine.'

  `It can't be...' Wilson's voice wavered.

  Mason looked up. Cold clawed at his insides. He knew thi
s place. `Don't touch anything.' He stood up.

  Wilson, pale and shaken, helped Ruth stand. Bile burnt at the back of Mason's throat as he took in the scene of frozen carnage. When the hearse had exploded he had borne the brunt of it. Protecting them. Shrapnel had torn his chest apart.

  `Ruth. Don't look,' he said.

  Too late. She grabbed his arm. `No, not again.'

  Mason put an arm around her, helping her stand.

  `This is so wrong.' Wilson leaned against him. `Is that what we looked like when it happened? There's so much blood.'

  `Who would bring us back to this?' Ruth's grip was savage.

  Mason couldn't speak for shaking. Not here, please. He couldn't be here. Not again. Cold tore at his insides. Fear raced through him.

  `That's us, dying,' he whispered into the eerie silence.

  `This is impossible, right, Dad? We haven't really gone back to the funeral?'

  Ruth was crying as she clung to him. Wilson was right. It was impossible. A voice that didn't belong in this place came to him. `A man shows his true colours in the time of greatest need.'

  `You!' Wilson spat on the ground. `You bitches brought us here.'

  `No.' The dark-haired witch stepped out from behind a crypt. `I suspect my sister and I were brought here, as you were, to witness your pain.'

  `Why should we believe that?' Mason clenched his hand, waiting for the rage to come as it always did.

  `We have no reason to lie.' The witch held her open hands out to him. `I believe whoever brought us here wants us to see this.' She nodded at the family, frozen in time at the moment of what should have been their death.

  Mason felt Wilson shift his weight and caught him by the arm before he could do anything. His rage had not come. In its place came confusion, and an instinct not to attack.

  Ruth moved against him. `You're not Bloodells, are you?'

  `No,' the witch said evenly.

  The redhead edged out from behind the crypt, slowly standing. `Enough talk, sis. This is freaking me out.'