First Fruits

by Amanda Carney

  “Our father was sick,” Jesse said. “Tuberculosis. We had to stay and tend the farm.”

  I nodded. “But why didn’t Patrick kill you like the other people with abilities? Why did he turn you?”

  “Lonely,” Jesse said with a shrug. “He wanted companions.”

  I cleared my throat, glancing between the two of them. “So you’re both…special?”

  Jesse inclined his head. “I can manipulate the molecular structure of things.”

  “In other words, he can walk through walls,” Felix offered.

  I thought of the hundreds of safes I’d seen him reach through. The money, the jewelry, and the gold he’d brought back out. “Patrick exploited you.”

  “I made him very rich,” Jesse agreed.

  I considered this for a moment and then turned to Felix, who had his cigar balanced between his fingers as he watched me. “What about you?” I asked.

  He rubbed his thumb over the soft leather of his chair’s arm. “I’ve been called many things. Changeling. Metamorph.” He flicked his cigar’s ash in the ashtray on the side table. “Skin-walker.”

  Understanding dawned as I thought of all the images I’d seen in Jesse’s mind. The animals with the knowing eyes and the haunting sadness. Of how I’d known they were Felix even if I hadn’t understood it. “You’re a shapeshifter.”

  His grin was pleased. “Very good. But not to be confused with a werewolf. Obnoxious bastards that they are.”

  I tried to imagine an obnoxious werewolf and failed. I glanced back at Jesse. He hadn’t taken his eyes off me. “Were your parents and Nina like you?” I asked him.

  At their mention, Jesse’s jaw hardened. “No. They were normal.”

  I thought of my own parents. The ones I had never met. Had never even seen their faces. Or even known their names. I’d always considered it a tragedy of sorts, but it occurred to me that maybe I was the lucky one. In a way, it was better to now know whether your parents were alive or dead.

  “Normally, it is passed down,” Felix said. “But John, the man who died that night, wasn’t our blood. Our real father had left years before.”

  “So he was like you,” I guessed.

  Jesse flexed his fingers, staring at his hand. “Our mother only told us that he was different than other men.”

  Felix laughed. “Hell of a warning. Do you remember the day you fell through the barn loft?”

  Jesse’s lips curved. “Damn near got a pitchfork through the gut.”

  “Have you ever shucked a half-acre of sweet corn with your bare hands?” Felix asked me.

  I shook my head with a smile. This was far better than talking about death.

  “Don’t,” he said. “Ever. Most backbreaking bitch of a job under the sun. Damn.”

  I imagined the two of them back then. Before Patrick. Before all of this. Two boys with matching green eyes. I could see the twinkle of mischief in Felix’s. The seriousness in Jesse’s. They were young. Not yet jaded.

  “Anyway, we’d been at it all morning when Jess got the grand idea to steal a quart of Mother’s homemade apple cider and hide in the barn loft for the rest of the afternoon.”

  “And hope like hell Father didn’t find us,” Jesse added.

  “I love apple cider,” I said, remembering the taste of frozen cider on my tongue and the wind in my hair and winding back roads. I felt Jesse’s gaze on me, but I didn’t look. He remembered too.

  Felix leaned forward, cigar held between his fingers. “Apples are one of the most underappreciated fruits,” he said. “It appears we have something in common.”

  Jesse gave him a look. “Get on with it.”

  I blushed.

  Felix grinned, unperturbed. “So we’re up there, right? And Jess has one hand on the railing and he’s holding the jar in the other, making me reach for it. He’s going on about how because he’s the oldest, he should get the first drink.” He paused and glanced at Jesse with a smirk. “The next thing I know he’s free-falling twenty feet through the air with a very feminine wail.”

  I gasped and then laughed, picturing it in my head.

  “Needless to say, I got the first drink that day after all,” Felix said.

  “While I was groaning on the ground,” Jesse noted dryly.

  “That,” Felix said as he reached for a glass of honey-colored liquid on the side table. “Is irrelevant.”

  I brought my knuckles to my chin so I could just watch them with a small smile. I liked them like this.

  “My hand went right through the wood like it was air,” Jesse said to me. “When you’re young, abilities are hard to control. They’re unpredictable.”

  “They’re hilarious,” Felix added.

  “Are you smoking and drinking at—” Jesse paused and glanced at his watch. “—Seven in the morning?”

  Felix shrugged and raised his glass in a salute. “A gentleman’s hobbies are not bound by the tedium of society’s rules.”

  Jesse shook his head, but his eyes sparkled.

  I opened my mouth to speak and then shut it, looking down at my hands.

  “What?” Jesse asked. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees, urging.

  A quiet, slightly bewildered laugh escaped me. “It’s just . . .” I rubbed my fingers over the dirty hem of my dress. “Talking about this is strange. I’m so used to hiding this part of me.”

  “You don’t have to anymore. Not here.”

  I took a deep breath. “I was seven when I realized I could move things with my mind.” I looked up at him. “I hit my social worker with a cat.”

  Jesse barked out a laugh. “How?”

  Heat creeped into my cheeks, but I continued, seeing a shabby neighborhood with rusted chain-link fences and weedy lawns in my mind. “She was holding my hand, walking me up the steps of my new foster home. When she knocked on the door, I looked over and saw a cat in the neighbor’s yard.” I smiled. “A calico. I wanted it. Bad. So I reached out and . . . took it.”

  Felix chuckled. “What happened?”

  “I tried to catch it—I really did—but it missed me by a mile. It got Marla right in the face. To this day I’ve never heard anyone scream so loud.”

  “And the cat?”

  “It was fine. Horrified, but fine. Landed on all fours.” I clasped my hands in my lap, a sense of satisfaction budding in me. I’d never told anyone that story.

  “What about the social worker?” Jesse asked.

  “Fine also,” I said. “The cat had no claws, thank God. It scared her more than anything.”

  They both laughed, and it felt good. There was something freeing in talking about pieces of me that’d been kept secret for so long. “And that was my introduction to telekinesis.”

  “Nice,” Felix said, shaking his head.

  After a moment, I asked, “So, are there lots of other people like me? And you?”

  Jesse sighed. “Used to be.”

  “And the remaining ones are in the same danger you’re in,” Felix said. “If he has his way, Patrick will have them all.”

  I absorbed the news. “He needs to be stopped.”

  Felix nodded. “Agreed.”

  Jesse got up and walked to the fireplace, gazing into the crackling flames. “It’s not that simple. You have no idea how powerful he is.”

  “But I do,” Felix said. “And I still agree. The bastard needs to die.”

  “We’re not strong enough,” Jesse argued.

  I thought of the room I’d seen in Jesse’s memory. The rows of shiny, clean refrigerators. The bottles.

  “I want to help,” I said. “Maybe between the three of us—”

  “No,” Jesse said. “That’s not an option.”

  I opened my mouth to object, but Felix spoke up first. “He’s right. It’s too dangerous for you.”

  Jesse turned to me, looking fierce. “I don’t ever want you near him. Do you understand?”

  I blinked. “But—”

  “Ever.”

  I
noticed his white-knuckled fist and the way his chest rose and fell.

  He was terrified. For me. I sensed it loud and clear.

  Closing my mouth, I said softly, “Okay. Ever.”

  It was a promise both he and I knew I may not be able to keep. But he exhaled anyway, visibly relaxing.

  “Why did you stay with him . . . after?” I asked in a quiet voice.

  “We had no choice,” Felix said. “New vampires are helpless in a sense. The changes that take place physically and mentally are tremendous. Without help from their maker or a foster-sire, they become . . .” He trailed off, glancing at Jesse.

  I looked back and forth between them. “They become what?”

  “Something else,” Felix said finally.

  “We call them ferals,” Jesse said, finally coming back to sit. “When you’re turned, an immediate instinct to cleave to your maker takes over. It’s a built-in failsafe mechanism.”

  “It’s about biology,” Felix added. “Not emotion.”

  Jesse nodded.

  So it wasn’t all about Patrick’s mind control ability. I pulled my cardigan tighter. “These ferals,” I said, trying the word out on my tongue. “They sound scary.”

  “They are,” Jesse confirmed. “They operate solely on base, animal instinct. They might walk and talk and think, but they’re . . . soulless.”

  Felix curled his upper lip. “And ugly as fuck.”

  My brows drew together. I’d seen nothing in Jesse’s mind that had terrified me as much as Patrick had. Then again, much of what I’d seen had been a blur. A condensed version of a much bigger picture. Sorting through every single memory individually would have been sensory overload.

  “Jess hunts them,” Felix said.

  “You do?” I looked at Jesse in shock.

  “I exterminate them,” he corrected, impassive. “They’re abominations.”

  When I paled, Felix added, “Don’t feel sorry for them. They’re inhuman. And deadly.”

  As the flashes of particular memories came together in my mind, I put two and two together. “That night,” I said. “At the lookout. On our first date. Were those ferals we heard in the woods? Is that why you drove us out of there so fast?”

  Jesse nodded. “Yes.”

  Knowing the creatures both he and Felix seemed to loathe so much had come that close made my skin prickle. I’d bought Jesse’s rabid coyote story back then, but now that I knew the truth, it made sense. What I’d heard that night hadn’t sounded like a mere animal—rabid or otherwise. It had sounded unnatural.

  Storing the disturbing information in the already-bursting filing cabinet that was my brain, I refocused on the Felix-less years in Jesse’s memories. Somehow, Felix had broken the bond with their maker. Gone his own way. He’d been spared what Jesse had endured.

  Looking up at Felix, I asked, “How did you do it? How did you get away?”

  “I wouldn’t say I got away,” he said after taking a drink. “I’m still bound to Patrick in a lot of ways. When he calls, I must always come back. He only lets me roam because I can be an annoying asshole. Freedom is a relative term.”

  “But you resisted.” I glanced at Jesse, whose gaze was riveted on the fire. “For the most part.”

  “I did.” He casually flicked the ashes off his cigar and stared at the smoldering end. “For whatever reason, Patrick’s shit has never worked on me. I didn’t have to obey his every whim like Jess did.”

  Jesse spoke without looking our way. “I think it has something to do with his animal nature. That it somehow counteracts it.”

  “The better question is,” Felix said, eying me. “What is it about you that keeps him out of Jesse’s head?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  Jesse glanced at his brother. “Don’t you have somewhere you need to be?”

  Felix stretched his arm across the back of the chair and considered what remained of his cigar. “Not particularly.”

  “You sure?”

  After a moment, Felix’s lips quirked and he stood. “I suppose you’re right.” Turning to me, he bowed with a flourish of his hand, the cigar leaving a swirling trail of fragrant smoke. “Until we meet again, milady.”

  I smiled. “Until then.”

  He straightened and walked with Jesse toward the door, which was, in fact, unlocked. As they paused and exchanged words, I peered behind them into what appeared to be an upward stairwell. The worn stone steps and walls looked damp, mossy, and old. The modern recessed lights set at regular intervals seemed out of place against the ancient backdrop and cast a pale yellow glow.

  So I was right. We were underground.

  I was strangely eased by the idea. Being above ground, out in the open, seemed too exposed somehow. Too dangerous. Two things I’d avoided my entire life. I glanced around the cozy room again, comforted.

  And then Jesse was closing the door. He hesitated a moment with his back to me as it clicked into place. I stared at his shoulders, the muscles tense beneath his T-shirt, and held my breath.

  We were suddenly very much alone.

  16

  Hot Showers & Sharp Teeth

  Jesse hesitated and then turned. She was still there. Still sitting in the same position. Still watching him with her blue eyes. He searched her face. There was no fear. Only curiosity. And a particular tiredness he suspected wasn’t only because of today.

  He tore his gaze away and walked over to where Felix had been sitting. Picking up his brother’s partially empty glass of scotch, he glanced at her. “Do you want to see the rest of the house?”

  “Yes.” She stood, picking up her own dishes from the table and following him.

  When they stepped into the hallway, he paused without turning around. He felt her stop a few feet behind him. Even wearing day-old, stained clothing, she still smelled good. Like her. Pointing to the right, he said, “The door at the end of the hall leads to a surveillance and weapons room.” He glanced over his shoulder at her. “Be careful if you go in there.”

  She nodded so gravely he almost smiled.

  “The door to the left is a laundry room,” he added.

  A surprised noise escaped her and she tried to suppress her laugh with her fingers.

  “What?” he asked.

  “It’s just . . .” she began. “I have a hard time picturing you doing laundry. Do you iron too?”

  “I don’t iron.” He turned and started down the hall in the opposite direction. “I steam.”

  He smiled as her delicate laughter rang out. It pleased him. As it always did.

  Stopping in front of the open kitchen, he gestured with his hand. “Felix stocked it before we got here. Eat anything you want.”

  She ran her fingers over the sleek, black granite countertop before putting her dishes in the sink with a quiet clatter. “It’s beautiful.”

  He looked around at the stainless steel appliances and dark wood cabinets. He’d never thought much about it before. He set the glass down. “It’s functional.”

  With a sigh, she turned away from the counter and they continued, coming to the end of the hall, which dead-ended at two doors. He nodded to the left. “My room.”

  Her eyes lingered on the door. “Okay.”

  Stepping in front of her, he opened the opposite door and swung it wide. He reached in and turned on the light. “This is where you’ll be staying.”

  She politely glanced inside the room, giving it a onceover.

  “It’s Felix’s room when he stays here,” he explained.

  Walking over, she sat on the edge of the bed, sinking into the crisp, white duvet, and running her hands over the pristine fabric. “It’s lovely.”

  “There are some of my clothes on the desk for you to wear.” He cleared his throat. “And I told Felix to buy you some new ones while he’s out.”

  She looked up at him. “He doesn’t have to do that. I have my own back at my apartment.”

  “You can’t go back there. And he doesn’t mind. Tru
st me.” He imagined his brother flirting with whatever female salesclerk was lucky enough to assist him. No doubt she’d get a nice commission, as well as a proper lay.

  “I have to go back.” She stood. “There are things there I can’t leave behind.”

  “Felix can go,” he said. “Just tell me what you need.”

  Though she still looked uneasy, she seemed to relax. “There’s a bag in the trunk of my car. A backpack. Have him bring that.”

  “Okay. Anything else?”

  “No.” She gazed at a piece of artwork hanging behind the bed. It was a black-and-white photograph of a nude woman, showing only the silhouette of curves and swells, leaving the details to the imagination. When she looked away, he noticed the faint pink in her cheeks and hid his smile.

  She glanced at him, looking entirely vulnerable. “My old life is over, isn’t it?”

  His chest tightened and, not for the first time, he hated himself for the position he’d put her in. He knew, of course, that Patrick had been the instigator, but Jesse had been the tool. And to him, that was just as bad. “Yes.”

  She nodded. She’d accepted the fact with no arguing, no weeping, no hysterics. He wondered what in her past had made her this way.

  “I’ll miss Lou,” she said softly. “And Fred. They were nice to me.”

  “I’m sorry it has to be like this.”

  She shrugged. “All we can do now is try to survive. It’s all anyone can do, right?”

  Silence filled the space between them as he stared at her. Seeing her in his home, under his roof, close enough to touch, wasn’t something he’d expected when he’d arrived at the diner that first day. Yet, nothing had ever felt more important. This was where she was supposed to be.

  He pointed to the open door to the left of the bed. “The bathroom is in there”

  Looking down at herself, she smoothed the front of her ruined dress with a small smile. “A bath would be good, I think.”

  Guilt rose as he turned to leave. He was the reason her dress was torn and dirtied. The reason she’d bled. “I’ll be in the living room. I have to make some calls.”

  “Wait,” she said. “There is one more thing I need. I almost forgot.”