Dark Veil

by S. L. Naeole

  “So, either something pretty crappy happened at the party or you’re on drugs and about ready to sell Dad’s bike to pay for your next fix.”

  “Mom!” I groaned with a mouth full of food.

  “What? I watch the news.”

  I rolled my eyes at her explanation. “I’m not on drugs; not the good kind, anyway.”

  “Okay, so obviously it’s not drugs. Want to tell me what happened? How’d the party go?”

  I kept chewing. The taste of batter and spices was much more interesting to me than what was going on in my head. And it felt better, too.

  “It went that well, huh?” She didn’t wait for me to respond. She walked around the sidecar, inspecting my work, nodding in approval. “I know it’s hard, Fallon. It’s not easy for these kids either, you know, seeing a new face.”

  “Oh, come on, Mom,” I grumbled as I inspected the corn cob. “They see new faces every day. This place is full of tourists. They get smiles and they get jokes and then they get to leave.”

  Mom straightened her back, her head cocking to the side. “And that’s why they hate them so much, Fallon. The tourists come here, yeah. But they also get to leave. And when these rock kids look at you, they see that you get to leave, too.”

  My snort flew food out of my mouth. “There isn’t anything keeping these people here! The ferry runs a billion times a day! Anyone can leave this rock. You and Dad did it. They can do it, too. There’s no reason why anyone has to stay here.”

  The expression on Mom’s face had no name. It wasn’t doubt, or disbelief. It wasn’t sadness or disappointment. It was more like…a little bit of everything with a blank spot in the middle. She didn’t smile, she didn’t frown. She didn’t even blink. She just…looked at me. “Baby, there’s going to come a day when you realize that we don’t always have the same choices.”

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  LIAM

  The small islands that we passed looked like the backs of turtles floating on the surface of the water. No one lived there; nothing lived there. Dozens of them dotted the way to the ferry’s next stop. They were uninteresting but the trogs kept taking pictures of them anyway. Anything for a picture. At least tonight, they had the fireworks.

  “Why do you think they did it?” Jameson had his back to the water. He was watching the trogs, his eyes searching, his mouth opening and closing. “Why do you think they just couldn’t accept it?”

  “Couldn’t accept what?” I asked, counting the number of flashes that happened on either side of us.

  “You know, the fact that they couldn’t have kids? My dad said that when they came back before they adopted her, Lola’s parents and even Brenda’s offered to give them a couple of their younger ones. Hell, my dad said that your mom even begged them to take you. Hah. Can you imagine? You and Fallon, brother and sister?”

  He laughed at the idea. Maybe a month ago I’d have laughed, too; maybe even a week ago. But today, the only thing I could do was stare at him with my mouth pulled tight in confusion. Being brother and sister would be a lot less complicated than what was between us.

  “Dude, they obviously didn’t think this whole thing through. I keep thinking about what’ll happen if she finds out and tells everyone. It’ll be like something out of one of those sci-fi movies; men in giant white condoms will come here and probe and dissect us like aliens.” Jameson screwed up his face as he spoke, his eyes crossing and his teeth bared as a blonde girl walked by, a sly smile forming on her face when she caught Jameson watching.

  “Want to dissect her?” he asked with a nudge.

  “You know,” I said, ignoring the girl, “Fallon’s lived with her parents for a pretty long time. If she hasn’t found out the truth about her parents by now, she probably never will.”

  How had Fallon’s parents managed to keep their secret from her for so long? She’d been here less than a week before she’d almost learned everything. If I hadn’t shown up when I did, she’d have seen the truth in Audrey and then she’d see the truth in me.

  “She’s lived with them in her world, though. They had to be careful all the time. Now that they’re back on the rock-”

  I shook my head. “Now that they’re back, they’ll be more careful than ever. They have to be. We all have to be.”

  Jameson’s scoff was loud and thick. “Screw that. I’m not gonna change because they decided to get a pet.”

  “Then do it for Audrey.”

  The sound of a hiss was the last thing I expected to come out of Jameson. His anger was even more surprising. “Do it for Audrey? Why do you think we want Fallon gone? Ever since she showed up, all she’s done is make things worse for Audrey. She’s the reason Audrey had that last attack. You know it and I know it. And you saw her face when Fallon left today. You saw what that did to her. What the hell, dude? How’d you go from wanting to tear her heart out to guarding it in a month?”

  I didn’t know. I didn’t know what it meant or how it had happened so fast. Everything that I hated about Fallon was also everything that I couldn’t stop thinking about. If I admitted it, all this thinking was driving me-

  “Crazy, man. All of this is just crazy. Audrey’s obsessed with her and you’ve gone soft. If you keep this up, Brenda’s gonna drop you like an addiction. She might even start looking at me and you know I won’t be able to resist her delicate nature.”

  It was impossible not to laugh at that. The idea that Brenda would break up with me and move on to Jameson was one thing. But to call her delicate? She was as delicate as a hurricane. Everything about her was sharp and powerful. Hunting with her was a competition and not just a trip for food. She always wanted the biggest catch, and with her looks she could bring them in without giving a chase.

  But Brenda loved the chase. It was her favorite part, above everything else. The last time I’d gone hunting with her, she’d spotted her kill before we’d even boarded the ferry. She flirted with it, learned its name, and even found out what it liked to eat. She let it ask her to go with it somewhere, and did. She followed it until she was sure it was safe to change.

  Brenda changing was beautiful. The way her body would start to stretch and thicken, and the way her fur shimmered over her body as it came through her skin like a wave of golden-brown light was always such a turn on. She’d roar deeply and richly as the muscles in her back pulled apart her shoulders so that when she landed on fully-formed paws, she was three times wider and longer than before.

  Her head would tower above her mesmerized prey. To them, she was a combination of terrifying beast and beautiful charmer. They didn’t know what was happening; they didn’t know what those sharp teeth tearing through her gums would do to their bodies. They didn’t know that those black gums would clamp over their skin and trap any blood that spilled out as she bit through their throats and crushed their windpipes. They didn’t know that those big, green eyes would never blink – not once – so that they wouldn’t miss a thing.

  All her prey knew was their own fear as it blended with the confusion and disbelief that filled their insides, choking them with all of the emotions and thoughts that grip you, strangle you just as the realization hits that you’re going to die.

  Brenda loved the smell of fear. She loved the frantic drum of hearts racing in terror. She thrilled at the sound of cries for help. She encouraged it. I’d follow her as she chased her prey from room to room, or from tops of trees to the roots beneath them. She would claw at them just enough to spill their blood, just enough to give her a sample of what she would taste.

  And then she’d push them, harder, make them gasp for breath as they crawled away in some futile attempt to escape her. Brenda was no different from any lioness or panther: she liked to toy with her food before she ate; the perfect cat to the human mouse. But, when it was time for the kill, Brenda was merciful. It was then more than any other time that she proved she had a soft side to her.

  She’d kill her prey quickly, the strength in her jaws no more noticeable than when s
he controlled the power of her bite so that she didn’t snap the head of her victim completely off. Instead, she’d clamp down, the weight of her head almost enough to cut off the circulation to the human’s brain. In minutes, she’d be tearing flesh from bone, forgetting the world as the bloodlust that existed in all of us took over. Feeding was the only time we were allowed to lose control. It was the only time we were allowed to truly be animals.

  But even as animals, we maintained our sense of selves. Brenda was always careful and neat. She made sure that her kill was clean. Jameson was always wild and reckless. He always left a path of destruction behind him during his chase. It wasn’t unheard of to see his prey lose an arm or a pint of blood before Jameson finally killed it, spending more time afterward cleaning up his mess than he did actually hunting.

  I followed my dad’s way of hunting: Quick, fast, and clean, but always make sure to taste the blood first. It was the only way to be sure that the flesh I’d be eating wasn’t tainted with drugs or worse…disease.

  Hunting with Brenda was always strictly about the kill. She wouldn’t talk to me or even acknowledge me. Her kill and mine were separate things, like two dinners in different restaurants, on different planets. It was the only time things between us were cold and distant. As people, we were doing it like two feral cats in heat. Yowling included.

  “Look, do you, you know, like this Fallon chick? Because if you do, that’s gonna make things pretty freaking complicated. She’s the last thing you need right now, man. You and Brenda…you’ve got a good thing together. She’s hot, she’s smart, and she’s got working parts. She loves Audrey and she loves you.

  “What more do you want?” Jameson was now standing across from me, his back pressed up against the wall of the main cabin.

  I scratched my head and groaned at the question. “Who said I wanted anything more? I’m not trying to get rid of Brenda. I don’t want to get rid of Brenda. And I don’t like Fallon. This is stupid.”

  “If you don’t like her then what’s the deal?”

  “I just… look, Fallon’s not like that blonde that you were checking out. You’ll hunt her down, kill her, and when her family starts looking for her, they won’t know where to start. They’ll think she ran away. They’ll think she was kidnapped. They’ll think she’s still alive up until it’s past the point of common sense.

  “And then they’ll eventually stop and move on. That’s how humans are. They forget things; they move on; they learn to live life with one less human in their lives. It’s not like that for us and you know it. We never forget. We never move on. We never let anything go because it never lets us.”

  Instinctually, my hand moved to my face, covering my scar and part of my eye. Through the slits of my fingers I stared at Jameson. He was staring after the blond girl again. She’d stopped at the end of the deck and was now looking at us, her mouth still curled up in a mischievous smile. She saw the look in Jameson’s eyes but through her own, all she saw was a want for her, a desire that made her feel wanted. It was all she needed to trust him.

  We needed more than that. We needed actions, not words or looks. We needed something that we could hold in our hands, something we could feel. Like a scar.

  The ferry shook, the jolt of it bumping against something vibrating through my body. I dropped my hand. We were docking. The sound of activity broke Jameson’s attention from the girl and he finally looked at me.

  “Fallon’s parents won’t forget, but they won’t exactly be able to blame us, either. They put her on the island on purpose. They knew what was gonna happen. If they didn’t want her to get hurt, they wouldn’t have brought her.”

  I shook my head and “They brought her here because they knew that we could be trusted. They knew we wouldn’t do anything to her. They’re one of us. What kind of Panthus would we be if we betray them for a human?”

  Jameson’s mouth opened and then closed. He turned to watch the ramp slam down on the pier and said nothing for a while as cars drove off, heading onto the mainland. The blond walked by us again, her hair brushing my face as she gave Jameson one last look before heading down the stairs to leave the ferry.

  “You’re right,” he said as his eyes followed the girl. “And I gotta say, I kinda like her. She’s okay looking I guess…for a human. But man, that whole fixing cars thing? That’s sexy as hell. And the way she stood up to Brenda? That takes balls.” He paused, his face paling. “Um…don’t tell Brenda I said that. I like having a set of my own that’s, you know, still attached to my body.”

  He started to hum, and then laughed. “Why don’t we have a theme song?”

  “What?” I asked, confused.

  His laugh faded as he hummed again. “We need a theme song. Batman has a theme song. Spiderman has a theme song. We need one, too.”

  Annoyed, I shook my head. “We do. It goes ‘meow-meow-meow-meow-meow, meow-meow-meow-meow’.”

  “Nice to see you still got a sense of humor, Liam.” He moved from the wall and headed toward the metal stairs, his shoulders back, his chin up in that smug way that told everyone that he was about to win at a game that no one else besides him was playing.

  I watched him, my feet refusing to follow. Instead, I just stood there as he kept going, disappearing below the top deck. I turned toward the pier and waited until I saw him disembark. He was following the blonde and hadn’t noticed that I wasn’t with him. I let out a sharp whistle and laughed when Jameson’s head turned with a snap.

  “What the hell? Come on, dude, before the scent grows cold!” he shouted angrily.

  I shook my head and raised my hand in a wave. “I’m heading back to the rock.”

  He looked behind him desperately, not wanting his catch to get away. “What about dinner?”

  I thought about the girl and looked ahead of him. She was standing still, her hands in her pockets, her eyes lit up with excitement as Jameson’s words carried to her. This would be the last time I saw her. This would be the last time the world saw her. For a moment, I wanted to warn her. I wanted to tell her to run away just as much as I wanted to taste her, bite into her flesh and feel the warmth of it cool in my mouth. But there was another human who was a lot more important at the moment, and I needed to know why.

  “I’ve got more important stuff to do. I’ll catch you later,” I shouted, watching Jameson’s face gather up in puckered confusion before the blonde’s hand touched his shoulder and he was lost. Food came first; especially when that food was practically climbing into your lap.

  My eyes continued to follow Jameson as he raised a lazy hand in farewell before walking side-by-side with the girl down the pier and disappearing past the lights and into the darkness.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  FALLON

  After Mom left with my leftover chicken bones and my naked corn on the cob, I decided to work on my bike. Taking it apart and cleaning it up always helped to take my mind off of things and I really needed that. I needed to hear the sound of a socket wrench clicking, the scrape of a wire brush cleaning, the abrasive slide of a scouring pad…

  Hours went by, and I didn’t notice that it had gotten dark until I stopped to stretch and blinked that slow, squeeze of the eyes that happens when you have to readjust to the light – or lack of it – around you. I must have lit a small lamp without realizing it because its orange-yellow glow stood out in the dark like a candle.

  I looked at my watch, squeezing the sides to light its face and the green glow read half-past nine. My fingers were stiff, and I knew I was completely covered in grease. The strong, orange scent of the soap I’d used to wash my hands with wasn’t enough to mask the odor of sweat and dirt and grease.

  It was a great feeling.

  With a groan, I stood up and headed toward the house. The porch light was on, but the rest of the house was dark. Mom and Dad were probably getting ready for bed. Dinner would be waiting for me in the microwave as usual; I’d returned to my normal routine and so had they.

  The sky was
glittered with Fourth of July fireworks, and I was less than ten feet away from the house when I felt it, that uneasy, cold feeling of someone watching you. It was dark, but I couldn’t see anything or anyone. I inhaled deeply, and then held my breath the way Dad had taught me so that I could listen for any sounds near me, anything that would tell me who – or what – was out there. Nothing but quiet filled my ears.

  Slowly, I took a step forward. Gravel and grass beneath my feet made loud crunching noises as my boots made contact. I exhaled quickly and then inhaled again and listened. Again, all I heard was silence. There wasn’t even a breeze. Everything was still.

  “Who’s there?” I called out into the dark.

  I could feel the eyes burning into my skin from every angle, turning the hair on my arms into spikes and the sweat clinging to me into icicles. “Who’s out there?”

  The sound of breathing finally emerged from the silence, and I felt my heart jump straight into my throat. Its pounding made it difficult for me to hear anything over it, and I tried to calm myself down but it became impossible when the breathing wasn’t just a sound anymore but a…a feeling, a sweep of hot, moist air against the back of my neck.

  I screamed, and reaction became the only thing I understood. In a burst of speed, my arm flew backward, bent at the elbow and sharp. The jolt ran through me like a cold stab, and I felt fingers clench around my elbow and my arm, squeezing me firmly.

  Mom had been adamant that I learn how to defend myself if someone tried to hurt me, and everything she taught me, everything she’d spent most of my life teaching me, became as automatic to me as breathing. My foot picked up and then fell, hard, on the instep of person behind me. I spun around, my fingers curled up tight against my palm as I aimed for a throat. It didn’t matter who it belonged to as long as a strong strike could bring that person down.