A Heart of Flesh

by Casey Hays

  Even then, Penelope is not as strong as I am. My last dose of Serum was administered just under five years ago. The same for Liza. But Penelope? Nearly twenty-five years have passed since she received a dose. And although she is still stronger and faster than an Outsider, her abilities have slowed considerably. Maybe she’s fine with my leaving all of this to her; I’m not.

  The kids are exhausted from their long day—possibly more exhausted than after a day of training—and this makes me feel better. Clearly, they got something out of their break. And not a single fight today. I may have to reconsider this “day of rest” idea after all.

  Klayre and Aria are ready for bed soon after the kitchen is cleaned up, and when Diana asks Sophia for a reading lesson, Penelope and Liza agree to take the girls to their farmhouse and tuck them in. The rest of us gather in the large den.

  Jacob and Caleb immediately climb into my lap the minute I sit down in one of the big, cracked leather armchairs. In no time, they’re both dozing against my chest. The solid weight of their bodies cupped in my arms is comforting, and I allow myself a moment to enjoy it. These kids—all of them—have become my world. I love them as if they were my very own blood. In quiet times like this, it’s easier to remember that.

  At my feet, Henry, Stephen, and Nicholas sprawl on their bellies on the worn, gray carpet. Aaron lays out the chessboard and goes to work teaching them the basics. He’s been at it for a few nights now. It’s a good technique for learning discipline and mental agility, which these boys desperately need, and I smile inwardly when it hits me. We didn’t skip training at all today.

  Aaron dumps the chess pieces in the center and reminds the boys how to set up the board. I carved every piece myself. It took me about six months to finish, but I’m pretty proud of my work. Getting each matching piece exactly right was quite a challenge. I loved every minute of it.

  Diana sits close to the crackling fire, the Scriptures open in her lap, and she reads to Sophia. I rest my cheek against the top of Jacob’s head, and I can’t help myself; I watch her.

  When I met Diana she was full of hope, her blue eyes shining bright with a future she could see on the edge of her dreams. A future far, far away from the breeding pit. She glowed with it. Nothing could stop her. And she was tough. She proved it time and again. Resilient to the last, she handled every obstacle with graceful finesse and unchained strength. She wanted help from no one. She fended for herself, believed in herself, took care of herself. Her only thought was for Tabitha and her unborn baby. Caleb. My arm tightens instinctively around his small frame.

  When Tabitha got sick, Diana fell apart. And in the days after Tabitha’s death, she was at her most vulnerable. Her light died out, and bitterness moved into her heart. It took a while for her to overcome it. But in Diana-fashion, she did.

  I study her face now by the orange glow. She is beautiful. Of course I noticed it the second Ian bailed me out of those cages in the Pit. I climbed the ladder, and there she was, a bag over her shoulder, little Tabitha snug against her chest… and Kate by her side.

  Kate. I linger on her for a moment.

  I had feelings for Kate; I can’t deny it. Those feelings built a wall around my heart, and for the longest time, they placed Diana on the other side of it. But Diana was there—right in front of me. She was amazing in every way that Kate wasn’t. I never saw it back then.

  I lift my head to watch her lips move with the words, and I see it now. Every day I’m blessed to witness it.

  “…who lov-loved me and gave… himself for me. I do not set aside the grace of God, for if r-r-right-e-o-”

  Diana stops reading, frustrated, and Sophia peers closely at the page. “Righteousness.”

  “Yes,” Diana nods. “For if righteousness… cold—”

  “Could,” Sophia corrects.

  “Could be gained throw, no, through the law, Christ died for nothing.”

  With a sigh, Diana’s shoulders sink.

  “Good,” Sophia smiles. “You’re really coming along, Diana.”

  “This is much more difficult than Goldilocks and the Three Bears,” she quips. “But thank you for teaching me. I do appreciate your patience.”

  “What else is there for me?” Sophia sighs.

  Her voice is tinged with a sadness that I don’t miss. Diana doesn’t either. She reaches over and squeezes Sophia’s knee.

  “I know,” Diana comforts.

  Sophia was barely fourteen when we came here… still a kid. In fact, all of us were still kids then for the most part. I was eighteen; I thought at the time this was what I wanted. This was where I would make a difference, be of the best use. I never planned on staying forever, not in the beginning. A year after we settled, Aaron’s sister Claudia took Sophia’s younger brother, Thomas, and moved back across the river. She married a Rover and never came back, not even to visit. Sophia could have gone with her aunt, but she didn’t.

  Now, she’s eighteen herself, and eighteen is an awkward age. She stands on the precipice—an adult who clings to her fading childhood. I have a feeling she won’t be here much longer. I’ve noticed a change in her; she’s getting the itch.

  If I decide on that vacation, I’ll offer to take her with me.

  But will I go? I glance at Diana. She studies another page in the book, the tip of her pink tongue just visible, her forehead crinkled in concentration. I smile.

  How could I leave her… even for a second?

  It’s a fleeting thought that stuns me as it races through my brain, but it feels like truth.

  “You can’t do that, Stephen.”

  The abrasiveness of Nicholas’s voice refocuses my attention. It’s low, but there’s an edginess to it that puts me on alert. I watch him, hoping the moment will pass without my having to intervene.

  “Why not?” Stephen asks.

  “That move isn’t allowed.” Nicholas pulls up onto his knees and points accusatorily at the chessboard, his voice rising a pitch. “That’s cheating!”

  “Nicholas.” My voice switches automatically into training mode. Diana catches it and looks up from her book. Nicholas is on his feet. I slide out from under the boys on my lap and ready myself for a fight.

  “It’s not cheating.” Stephen pushes up to his knees, irritation riding in. “I can move the knight in an L-shape in any direction, right Uncle Aaron?”

  “Well—” Aaron begins. But Nicholas cuts him off.

  “And that’s not an L!”

  “Oh, brother,” Henry sighs. He slaps his hand to his forehead. “Not again.”

  “Hold on a minute, boys,” Aaron raises a hand. “Now look—”

  “It is so an L!” Stephen’s on his feet. “You need to learn your letters.”

  Diana and Sophia have turned to statues. Nicholas growls, the tension rises, and I see his next move in his eyes. As quick as lightening, I lunge for him, but it isn’t fast enough. He spots me in his peripheral, dodges my hands, and springs toward Stephen. A second later, Stephen soars through the air. With a tiny grunt, he crashes into the rock face of the fireplace just above Sophia’s head. The rocks splinter on impact and avalanche in a crumbling cascade of brittleness. Sophia screams; Diana leaps to her feet, and Stephen lands with a heavy thunk. The fire hisses as debris falls into it.

  “Nicholas!” I screech, but he doesn’t hear me. Red with anger, he dashes forward, clambering right through the chessboard. Henry scrambles out of the way as the chess pieces scatter in all directions across the floor. Aaron grabs for his foot, but Nicholas is too fast. He’s a blur, a blot in space.

  “Nicholas, stop!” Diana’s voice is a raspy, choking gasp as she scuttles around Sophia for Stephen, but Nicholas doesn’t regard this. In pursuit of Stephen, he shoves Diana with every bit of his unkempt strength. She falters, her arms flailing in an attempt to keep herself upright, but it’s no use. She tumbles backwards, her temple just catching the edge of the hearth. A loud crack, and she slumps to the floor, silent.

  Furious, I grab
for the back of Nicholas’s collar. Again, he senses this and dips out of the way. Stephen has managed to right himself, an angry scowl embedded in his expression, but he’s still slightly stunned by the exchange. Before I can blink, Nicholas has the fireplace poker in his grip. My heart pumps blood through my head with alarm bells, the Serum kicks up a notch, and my hands land on Nicholas—a second too late. And in the flash of that second, he plunges the poker through Stephen’s heart.

  “Nicholas!”

  My voice is a resounding boom inside my skull. I yank him up by the scruff of his neck. He struggles a moment, but even with his uncanny strength, he’s no match for me. Not yet.

  It doesn’t take long for him to realize this, and soon, he grows still. He stares down at Stephens’s stunned face, all the fight ebbing out of him, and he hangs limp in my hands. Around the end of the poker, blood mingled with the blue fluid of the Serum spills fast over Stephen’s fingers as he gasps and gurgles and attempts to pull the thing free. Horrified, Sophia’s hands fly to cover her mouth.

  My anger is at its peak, and I slam Nicholas into the closest chair, my hand firm against his chest. “You stay there!”

  His eyes beam up at me, confused. The Serum inside him is redirecting. He glances from Stephen to Diana, and he knows: he’s crossed a line. He isn’t about to move from that seat. Lip trembling, he nods, and his eyes wander back to where Stephen lies, now completely inert.

  Henry is crying; Caleb is crying. Jacob sits stock still on the edge of the couch as if he fears he’ll be punished by default. Diana’s motionless frame hugs the edge of the hearth, and my heart quickens. Aaron scoops her up, deposits her on the couch, and I sink to my knees beside her. He checks for a pulse. I hold my breath until he looks at me.

  “She’s breathing,” he confirms. But a large, lump rises on the side of her head. “Sophia, get Penelope.”

  Nodding nervously, she wrings her hands, and glances toward Stephen’s deathly still body.

  “Is Stephen… is he… going to be all right?” she asks.

  I emit a long sigh, allow the Serum raging through my beating heart to slow its pacing.

  “Yes,” I breathe. “He’s going to be fine.”

  Diana on the other hand? Her temple and the side of her cheek bulge an ugly red that will soon be black and blue. I shake my head and toss a glance at Nicholas. He doesn’t even dare to blink. With a sigh, I turn and pull the poker free from Stephen’s chest. He doesn’t make a sound.

  The Serum will go to work now. But even as I think this, I’m haunted by a niggling feeling that there may come a time when it won’t. What then?

  Chapter 5

  In the middle of the night, I slip into Diana’s room and sink into the worn chair next to her bed. On the opposite side, a candle burns low on a scratched table, casting just enough light for me to make out her face. A wet compress partially hides the lump that quickly turned into a large, purple bruise. It didn’t take long for it to travel the length of her face and blacken her eye. But in the dim light, the dark mark on her cheekbone looks to be nothing more than a black shadow.

  Even before Penelope diagnosed a severe concussion, I knew Diana had suffered one. I knew it the minute she tried to sit up on the couch in the den. Her pupils told me everything. She only made it to her elbows before dizziness dropped her back onto the cracked leather.

  A concussion is never good, but it could have been worse. If she had reached Stephen before Nicholas—just one second—that poker could have—

  A solid shiver rattles my spine. I shut off the thought.

  Diana stirs; I straighten. But when she stills back into sleep, I settle in, slumping low in my seat. I pull at my lower lip, my mind reliving the horrifying events that took place in the den just hours ago.

  What am I going to do with you Nicholas?

  I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d tried ten times harder. That’s the problem with Nicholas. His instincts are spot on; he’s tuned into his abilities already, and so young. It’s remarkable, admirable even… to a degree. But it’s dangerous. And I have no idea how to temper him.

  I stand and move to the window. It’s pitch black tonight. I lean against the sill with a heavy sigh.

  I know Nick has been a real burden on Diana’s heart. She loves him. We all do. But he’s kept us on edge ever since his first violent streak at eleven months. In the beginning, Diana was hopeful, not wanting to label Nicholas in his first year of life. But it was unavoidable. With each passing day, he’s become more dangerous, and there’s only so much we can allow before we have to take drastic measures. I don’t like what that means.

  Nick has made the most progress, and that would be a good thing under different circumstances. He can control the click of the Serum raging through his body already; I’ve seen it firsthand. But sometimes, I think he deliberately chooses not to exert self-control. I hate thinking this. I’d rather believe that his little brain hasn’t computed to the rest of him that he does have a choice. Heck, he has more of a choice with the advanced Serum than the guys and I ever did.

  I keep trying to make excuses for him, but deep inside, I know the truth. We’re just lucky he still feels regret. Because if he ever decides to ignore that emotion, we’ll be in a world of trouble.

  I study Diana’s sleeping form. If anything, this little episode has made up my mind: I’m not going anywhere. I owe it to her to be here. To keep her and her two boys safe.

  Through the window, I see the dark shadow of the farmhouse where Klayre and Aria sleep, oblivious to what happened during that chess game tonight. That’s one plus. Jacob was shaken, but my biggest concern is Stephen. He’s not nearly as aggressive as Nick, but he’s a handful, too. Their last fight left Stephen with a broken back. I’m not sure how much longer he’ll take it before he retaliates. This time, he may be looking for payback. I hope not, but I can’t put it past him. The kids’ minds click in a different way.

  I was too angry to deal with Nicholas earlier. Just before I shut the door to the basement, I took one last look at him at the bottom of the stairs. He peered at me through the bars of the titanium cage, his eyes begging, tearing at my heart. I hated to do it—hated that he’d once again forced me to use it—but I had no choice. I never have a choice. I know it’s the truth, and still, every time, it’s the hardest thing I ever have to do. His tiny voice lingers in my memory.

  “I’m sorry, Justin. I’m sorry…”

  His tear-streaked face haunts me now, but it had to be done. He has to learn.

  I shake away the memory. He will be fine until tomorrow. He’s safe and warm and fed, and a little alone time will do him some good. Tomorrow, we’ll both have a better chance of seeing things from a different angle.

  “Justin?”

  Diana raises a weak hand, and I’m at her bedside taking hold of it in an instant.

  “I’m here.”

  “Stephen—” she begins. Her voice is raspy deep in her throat.

  “He’ll be fine,” I say quickly. “No permanent damage.” I reach across for the candle and move it closer. One eye is swollen shut, but the other manages to focus on my face. “Penelope says they’re regenerating quickly. He’ll be fully himself in no time.”

  After a moment, she weakly squeezes my fingers. “And my boys?”

  “They’ve been asleep for hours,” I assure her. “They know you’re hurt but recovering. Liza kept them distracted.”

  Her chest emits a small sigh of relief, and then her forehead wrinkles with concern. “What are we going to do?”

  There’s a tear in the question. I bite my lip and settle on the edge of the bed. “I don’t know just yet. He went for the heart this time. He’s never done that before.”

  She licks her dry lips, swallows once. I reach for the cup of water sitting next to the candle and help her take a sip. She falls back, focuses on me.

  “This can’t keep happening. Someday, someone—” Her voice breaks off, a sob clinging to the final word.

&nbs
p; “I know, I know. Look, you don’t need to worry about it right now. You need to rest.” I set the cup aside. “You hit your head pretty hard when you fell.”

  She nods carefully, letting her lids close. Her curls are splayed out across the pillow, and I can’t help but think of an angel. A broken and bruised angel who fell from the sky and crash-landed into my life. This crazy, stupid life that neither one of us asked for. I hesitate a second, my hand hovering above her, before I gently brush a strand of her hair back and run my thumb down the good side of her face.

  “You’re not going to like how you feel tomorrow,” I whisper. “Or how you look, for that matter.”

  She peeks up at me, a small laugh leaving her lips before she winces. “Ow…”

  “Sorry.” I smile.

  Her gaze fixes on me. The room is so quiet I can hear my heartbeat in my ears. I just look at her, soak up everything about her—everything that has begun to awaken something inside me.

  “You don’t have to stay here with me,” she says after a minute. “Get some sleep. You have some damage control to attend to tomorrow.”

  “Right.”

  I don’t move for a full five minutes, even after I know she’s drifted off to sleep. I don’t want to leave, and not just for her sake. I have selfish reasons. Her presence, even in her injured state, somehow grounds me. I’m afraid of the choices I have to make, the decisions I have to live with, the rules I must lay down. Lately, I’m afraid of who I am when she’s not in the room with me. I let this realization sink in. How crazy is that?

  I take a handful of her curls in my fist. What am I thinking? This is Diana I’m talking about. Strong, independent, loving and nurturing Diana. Would she even want more from me than friendship? Maybe I was reading too much into things today. Besides, what could I give her but more of the same?