Mysterious Blood Relatives (Obscure Blood Book 3)

by Christopher Leonidas

  Octa stared at her unbelievably. Was she for real?

  “Octa, you need to know that I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I wanted you to know that you could become a part of us if you wanted. That night, Don sent those men after us so he could get rid of you. He didn’t want any more trouble, but I pleaded with him to give you a second chance, that’s why you’re here. That’s why you’re still alive.” she said, her eyes pleading for him to understand.

  Octa yelled, “You told me the story. You told me how horrible it was.”

  But his aunt shook her head. “No Octa. I told you a story. You thought it was horrible, but I was just stating facts. I was telling you what happened. You were the one who thought it was terrible, whereas I was trying to make you see things from my side.”

  Octa’s confidence wavered. This was wrong, completely wrong. His aunt had been with Don all along and was trying to recruit him into this cult?

  “Now, Octa, you need to understand that we’re not into any satanic rituals or twisted verses. We simply use normal understanding of the facts,” Chelsea said gently. “You see, we all know how bad the world is getting, and this, she said, and gently stroked the barrel of her gun against his father’s forehead, which was covered in blood. “This is a way we can let go.”

  “This isn’t some phase which over-emotional teenagers go through. We know that the release of blood from the body can cause all sorts of changes. It’s been a medical practice for centuries now. Letting go of the bad blood inside of us can make us let go of the toxins, the bad things,” she said matter-of-factly.

  “And, so letting go of your sins is by letting yourself bleed,” Octa said slowly. “Like that man you told me about who was being tortured.”

  “He wasn’t brave, so we did the job for him.” she shrugged.

  Octa could almost feel his brain frizzing. “And what about my parents?”

  For this, Don stood up. “Well, that was where we went really wrong.”

  Octa had almost forgotten the man was there.

  “We wanted to bring your father in, but he was a coward. He was already abusing your mother. Chelsea wanted to make a good person out of him, but the man just wouldn’t give. Anything that went wrong, he would blame and abuse your mother as if it was her fault. Chelsea wanted to make sure that he wouldn’t do so again, so…” He turned to Chelsea who continued.

  “So I tortured him. I made him see the error of his ways. My sister was a sweet girl, but she was too passive, but even for the most submissive people, they still have their limits. She let me torture him. I asked him if he knew anyone who had sinned and he said yes. I wanted him to kill himself for all he did to her. I wanted him to suffer. I wanted him to die,” Chelsea said vehemently and turned to face Octa’s father. “I had wanted him to bleed to death, but he had other things on his mind. He attacked your mother instead.”

  Tears welled up in Chelsea’s eyes. “He was a monster. Did you know that he starved Molly when she was pregnant with Juan? He starved her almost to death. How do you think Juan got his schizophrenia? He got it because the pregnancy almost killed him.” She turned back to Octa, “I didn’t even get the chance to save her. He killed her because he thought she had cheated on him before you were born. He always thought that. He would always say that you didn’t look like him, even though we both know you took after your grandfather. But he always felt like she had been unfaithful, so he killed her.”

  “It was too late by the time I could do anything. I had only managed to take him out of the house when you showed up. I couldn’t even move your mother’s body. After that, everything that happened was so you could be safe, so your mother’s memory wouldn’t be tarnished.”

  Octa’s mind was reeling. His throat was dry as he tried to make the words. He turned to John, “And you?”

  John stiffened. “I was always a part of this family. I was a part of Don’s from my early cop days. I knew it was my duty to save her. I didn’t whisk her away to a far off location, but I made sure that you’d never see her. You already didn’t know what she looked like, so it wasn’t like you would be able to recognize her on the street.”

  Octa looked at his father. Still short and thin, but his gauntness made him look more like he had been pulled out of his grave.

  Chelsea continued. “The reason your father committed these murders is because he wanted to get back at Don. To him, Don had ruined his life. Don had made him kill Molly and Don was the one who was responsible for all the bad things in his life. He just didn’t think that he was the monster all along. He started killing, because he wanted to show Don that he,” she gestured to Don, who was looking at Octa intently, “was the one who should suffer, because of what he had apparently made of him. He was going insane, which is why he attacked you that day too. I’ve been following him for a long time, so when he attacked you, I took the chance. I knocked you out and dragged him out.”

  Octa stayed still for a long time. No one moved as thoughts jumbled around in his head. He muttered, “I’ve always wondered if a father and son can hunt each other,” he said.

  Don frowned. “Yes, Chelsea told me he’d said that. I think he must have meant me.”

  “Octa,” Chelsea said in a low voice, “Your father came after you, because in his eyes, you didn’t belong to him. You weren’t his son, so you were disposable.”

  Octa suddenly felt very cold.

  “Octa?” Octa heard Chelsea and looked up at her tear-streaked face.

  “Do you think your father should live?” she asked gently.

  Octa gulped. She could see his answer in his eyes. She smiled. “Do you?” she repeated.

  Octa shook his head. “No.”

  Her smile grew broader. In that moment, a memory flashed in his mind, his mother’s smile.

  “That’s all I needed to know,” she said and fired.

  Chapter Ten

  The bullet went straight through his father’s temple and out the other side, spraying the floor with blood. John let go and he slumped down. Chelsea reeled back as the gun smoked, shock apparent on her face as she realized what she had done.

  Octa pulled out his other gun from the back of his jeans and pointed both at her. “Put your gun down.”

  Chelsea looked startled. John cursed, shaking the blood off of his hands. Don stood up when he saw Octa’s hands shake.

  “Now, Octa, we need to stay calm. This is a good thing. Please, you know that this was the only way,” Don reasoned.

  A fury rushed through Octa’s veins. He wasn’t angry because he had wanted to kill his father; he was furious because he had wanted to kill all of them, with his father dying by his hands in the end. He had wanted to do his mother justice. He had wanted to finish off all of them.

  Octa pointed a gun at Don. “You, shut up! I don’t need your talk right now. Get down on your knees! Now!”

  Don sighed “Octa, you’re being unreasonable. I’m not the bad guy here, your father was. And now he’s not alive anymore. Problem solved. You should be thanking us.”

  Octa fired at Don, narrowly missing his head by an inch. Don jumped back and in an instant, his gun was out, pointing at Octa. Chelsea reacted and raised her gun at her nephew, her hand shaking.

  “I don’t think so.” Octa heard John say and saw him pull out his own two guns and aim at Chelsea and Don who recoiled. Chelsea switched the gun between Octa and John, not understanding who to shoot. “John!” she exclaimed with horror.

  Don smiled as he took in the situation. “Well, lady and gents, it seems we have come to an impasse.”

  Octa couldn’t believe the man was actually smiling at a moment like this.

  They all stood silent, waiting for the other to make a move. Octa breathed slowly, trying to understand his chances of survival. His father’s blood drenched the carpet around his feet. Don’s smile didn’t waver. He turned his head gently to the side and spoke.

  “Such fire…,” he said, “You are so much like your father than y
ou probably care to be. You could have been great in our little family.”

  Octa felt a growl in the back of his throat. This man was more than a monster. He was a man who knew he was one and reveled in it.

  Octa knew it needed to be done, and pulled the trigger. Multiple shots rang out through the dusky morning, each hitting a target. John was hit in the left shoulder, while Don fell to the floor with blood gushing out of his mouth. He had a chest wound. Octa stared at Chelsea’s corpse for a few seconds and walked toward Don. He re-holstered his gun behind his back and pulled out a knife. Don’s eyes opened wide. Octa’s teeth ground against each other.

  “Octa, what are you gonna do?” John asked. “Octa, I got hit. Put that knife back.”

  Octa ignored the voice as tears rolled down his cheeks. Then, he kneeled next to Don, held him by his collar, and stabbed him multiple times in different parts of the body.

  Epilogue

  At first, after John shot him in the right shoulder, Octa thought he was going to be a dead man, but then he realized John just wanted to stop him. As Octa lay there on his back, John pointed his gun at him.

  “So, you’re my enemy too?” Octa said.

  He stared at Octa for a few seconds and replied, “I just wanted to stop you from taking that psychopath’s life, Octa.”

  John bent down and wiped Don’s blood off Octa’s face and hands, then took the knife away from Octa, bagged it, and hid it inside his boxers. Blood was still coming out of John’s mouth. Octa wasn't sure how John managed to do all this with the chest wound he had, just that he was exceptionally strong.

  Octa watched him, thinking. Did I really want to kill John, or just threaten him, to try cover my want for revenge for Lucinda’s death? Octa frowned, watching John. I wonder if John’s actually a good person or if he’s just trying to hide something from me.

  John continued. “I can help you get away with murder and earn your badge back, but only if you want to change. If not, I’ll turn you in.”

  “It was a lot easier to kill people in Haiti than it is in the United States,” Octa said.

  Without a word of warning, John stepped hard on Octa’s wound. “I understand why you love killing. You think killing someone who has done wrong is the fastest way to resolve an issue.”

  I have to admit, he’s right, Octa thought. But more blood can either lead to justice or the truth. Is he trying to brainwash me already? Hell no…I can’t let this happen.

  After John called for the bodies to be disposed of and phoned HQ to report the incident, he called in an ambulance for themselves.

  A week later, Octa reached for the ringing phone. The man on the other end of the line didn’t give his name, just said, “I know you’ll be looking for Juan’s son, but when you find him, you’ll be walking into the valley of your own death.”

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  Published Books

  Memories of Broken Souls (non-fiction poetry)

  Obscure Blood

  The Heart of Blood (Part II of Obscure Blood)

  Upcoming Books

  Bad Blood (Part IV of Obscure Blood)

  Innocent Blood

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  Innocent Blood Facebook fan page

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Leonidas Christopher, born December 27, 1992, hails from Port-au-Prince, Haiti. He is an active US Marine. He lives his life practicing the adage that life should not be about how it is but about how we can make it. He spent his childhood aloof from his family, spent his time wandering around dangerous and poor zones learning, as he did, about life. He met strangers who later became his friends, and he discovered that they too had their own secrets buried within. As he grew up, his own tragedies were added to the awful memories and stories of his friends. Using these, he hopes now to make a difference for the better in other people’s lives. Visit his website at http://www.christopherleonidas.com/