Halfblood Heritage

by Rheaume, Laura

  “Probably the queen’s diary and the history of the Yellow Spring uprising. They are both out of print.” He looked through the bag, feeling his excitement build at the sight of the titles inside. His student ID only gave him access to approved books within the curricular areas he was studying and only up to two grades above his assigned level. This had been a cause for a lot of frustration, until he devised the ‘Sara: housekeeper by day, restricted book dealer by night’ strategy. Since adults had unlimited access to the library, he had asked her to check out the books he wanted to read in her name; so far it had worked out really well for him.

  “Well, whichever ones they are, they are on order. Should be about two weeks. Make sure you take care of them,” she added like she did every time and returned to the kitchen.

  “Thank you, Sara,” he said, took the bag and headed toward his mother’s room. Walking down the narrow white hall with a bag in his arms reminded him of their first day in the apartment. He had been walking around in a fog in those days. The attack had only happened about a month before...maybe less, he wasn’t sure...The Humans had finished dragging them around from place to place, showing them off, justifying themselves, examining them and questioning them...well, questioning him anyway. When they had squeezed every bit of juice they could out of them, it was time to shuffle him and his mother out of sight.

  He had followed Miss Trudy right down this hall. He remembered that the hallway had seemed especially long to him. Long and hollow. Her precise voice had echoed in the empty apartment, as if she had to repeat herself all the time to be understood.

  “This is one of the nicest homes for residents of your means. In fact, it is much better than anything the usual refugee could expect, but, of course, you aren’t just any refugee.”

  Refugee. That’s what they called him. As if he had been waiting all his life to come here. As if he and his mother had wanted to be ‘saved’ from the Kin. As if his whole life hadn’t become worse than any nightmare he’d ever had.

  The pretty woman smiled winningly at Scythe. “Why don’t you put your things here for the moment? Good. Naturally, because of your mother’s condition, you will be provided with a full time attendant, and your celebrity status earns you a team of security officers as well as a limited household staff.” She paused, waiting for an appropriate reaction.

  Scythe looked over at his mother, sitting in her wheelchair next to a white couch and staring vacantly at the wall. Just above her, a bright painting depicted several small birds flying in circles.

  “Well,” began Scythe, unsure about what words to use. His ability to speak Human was noticeably limited, and he had made enough shockingly bad mistakes in the short time he had been in their city that he was more careful than usual when he spoke. “I guess we’ll...sleep?”

  However, he was thinking to himself, I’ll never be able to sleep with all this noise. I’ll have to find some way to turn some of these things off. No fewer than fifteen electronic machines whirred, scratched and screeched at him, including the clock, a communications port, a data port, something in the couch and the table next to it, the proximity detectors which turned on and off the lights, climate control and other household ‘necessities.’ The loudest and most abrasive was the wall that pretended to be a window; it alone was responsible for five different noises that clawed at what he now realized was his sensitive Kin hearing.

  “Absolutely. Whatever you like. Let me just show you some of the apartment’s amenities before I go. Here is your entertainment unit.”

  She waved her hand over the table and the top flared to life with a variety of shapes made out of light. She smiled at the way he stared at it.

  “Yes, it is amazing, isn’t it? Look at this.” She touched a few of the shapes with her fingers and the offensive wall changed from a view of the city to some kind of show depicting people in bright blue plastic suits climbing ladders while being shot at with water guns. “This is one of our favorite game shows. I’m sure you’ll find it hilarious.” She tapped the table a few more times, changing the programming so fast that Scythe could barely make out what was displayed. “All you could ask for when you need to wind down.”

  The best he could do was stand there and try not to stare rudely. It was clearly such an ingenious piece of technology that he wanted to take it apart immediately and figure out how it worked; he probably would after she left, if he could find some tools. At the same time, he was appalled at what it was being used for. It must have taken years of development, and the Humans had made it into a television remote control. It was almost as disturbing as the images that had just assaulted him from he television itself, most of which wouldn't have been considered entertainment where he grew up. Many were offensive, inappropriate or just bizarre.

  She said comfortingly when he didn’t respond, “Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to figure out how it works.” She rose, leaving the wall unit set to a show about clever ways to gift wrap food for a pet. “There’s something for your mom to enjoy while I show you the rest.”

  Scythe looked over at his mother staring vacantly ahead and then at his Personal Acclimatization Assistant, whose back was already to him as she strode out of the room.

  She walked into the kitchen, activating the lights and spreading out her arms with a flourish. “Here it is! One of the best rooms in the house. I know that outside the city, food is scarce. All the refugees go crazy about the kitchen. This here is my number one favorite machine in the kitchen: it cooks food, rehydrates, and freezes! Your food will be stocked weekly from the city’s stores. You don’t have to do anything. It will be routed automatically right here.”

  She opened a door to reveal a cupboard stocked with packaged and labeled food, little of which Scythe could read, as it was all in Human. She stood there, smiling expectantly while Scythe looked around at the strange furniture, decorations and appliances. Finally, her smile fading noticeably, she asked, “Well, what do you think?”

  “I’d like to sleep now, I think. Could you go?”

  Her face brightened once again. “Of course! You poor thing! You must be so tired from your ordeal! Let me put out a few things for you to snack on should you wake before the housekeeper assigned to you arrives tomorrow morning. She will be taking care of cleaning up for you, helping you keep track of appointments and, of course, preparing delicious meals! Your rooms are this way, Simon.”

  Scythe cringed at the sound of his "more practical" nickname.

  She showed him the sleeping rooms-which, strangely enough, were almost as big as the living room-and the restroom before returning with him to where they had started. “Well, I know this is a lot to adjust to, but don’t you worry one little bit! I’ll be checking on you each day, helping you with whatever adjustments you need to make. You’ll be starting school soon, a little late at age ten, but that won’t be a problem. We’ve scheduled a private tutor for you so you won’t have to go to those crowded schools. You can work on your accent with your teacher and before you know it, you’ll be speaking like a Human...”

  For the first time, her face slipped, but she recovered quickly. “Of course, you are Human. It’s just, you’ll be speaking standard Human; that will help you make a life for yourself here more easily. Well, I think that’s all anyone could take for one day. You’ve been a real trooper, Simon! I’ll just head out and see you tomorrow around, say, 11:00?”

  “I have two questions, Miss Trudy.”

  “Yes, dear?”

  “Do we have to live here?”

  “You don’t like your apartment, dear? Well, I suppose we could find you one in another area, but honestly, I think this is the best one I can get you. It is really very nice. I could try to get approval for a larger expenditure, but I can’t guarantee anything. I’ll get on it first thing...”

  “I’m sorry, I’m not saying it right.

  “Oh. So...?”

  “Do we have to live in the city?”

  Miss Trudy froze, unable to speak f
or a moment; her mouth opened a couple of times, but each time it closed, defeated. Finally, she managed to say, “Where else would you live?”

  Scythe thought of his dead aunt and father. Then his gaze rested on his mother, whose only movement since she had been wheeled into the room was the occasional twitch of her hands. “I guess there isn’t anywhere else.”

  Her smile was back, “Menelaus provides a healthy and happy life for us. I know it’s different from where you’ve been...living, but I’m positive you’ll grow to be very content here.” She smiled reassuringly. “What was your other question?”

  Scythe had pointed to the deafening wall where a woman was cooing over a dog that wildly licked her on the mouth. “How do you turn that off?”

  Once in his mother’s room, Scythe put down the bag of books just inside the door and picked out the one he wanted. Standing, he grinned at the memory of the blunt way he used to talk in those days and the way people reacted. Of course, it wasn’t funny then; it had been terrible. He had been lost all of the time, because he didn’t know anything about Humans. He had thought that they would all be like his mom.

  He should have known better. No one was like his mother. His mom was barely Human. She was a sparkly thread: the very last fringe on the rug, halfway torn off. That was the only type of Human that would marry a Kin.

  He sat down, saying, “Okay, here’s what I’ve got today, Mom. Yori Lenin: Investigating the Metals. Sounds good, right?” He laughed, because she definitely wouldn’t have been interested in the dry science textbook and would have laughed herself. She would have listened, though, because he was interested. She would have listened through the whole boring thing, all three hundred sixty-seven pages of it. Yep, she was one crazy Human.

  Scythe leaned back in the chair and started reading aloud, his arm resting on the cold railing of the hospital bed. Next to him, a carefully groomed, blonde haired woman in a pretty yellow hospital gown stared forward at a point beyond the room.

  Chapter 4

  “Well, this was another wash,” said Ian, throwing his head back on his pillow.

  “Yup, sorry, Scythe. Looks like we might be wasting your time out here.” Lena let her bags fall to the floor and then kicked them up against the wall. Her hair was wrapped with a towel from her shower and her clothes were heaped in her arms.

  She looked around the room the family they had interviewed earlier had prepared for them. It was typical of the type of accommodations they had received since they arrived at the bordertown region. The bedroom was small, barely big enough for the three of them. The rest of their team, soldiers in charge of security, were bunked in a slightly larger room in the house next door. A small window had been hastily boarded up with several rough planks; torn curtains wavered in the thin tendrils of wind that blew through the cracks at will. The three pallets, just basic wooden frames with thin mattresses, took up almost the whole floor, leaving room for a chair and a small dresser.

  “That’s okay,” answered Scythe, pulling a second blanket up over himself and snuggling way down into his greatly improved bed. The pallet’s mattress was old and frayed, but with the extra padding of his sleeping bag and jacket and the blankets piled on top, he would take it over his comfortable bed in the city any day. With his eyes peeking out through his peephole, he watched with a grin as Lena tossed her clothing in a pile in the corner before crawling into her own bed. He loved it when she dumped her stuff around.

  “Yeah, he’s really sorry to be out here, gallivanting about the countryside unsupervised. Look at him. He’s pining for the city, his abandoned studies and his play group buddies,” joked Ian sarcastically. “The boy never had it so good.”

  Lena looked thoughtfully at the bump in the third bed before responding with a fake humph of disapproval, “You’re right, he is missing a lot of school. Thanks for reminding me, Ian. Tomorrow we can have some work sent out so he doesn’t get behind.” She laughed out loud when Scythe retreated completely into darkness, moaning quietly.

  He didn’t object to the idea of schoolwork. He liked to study; he had always been curious about things, even as a young child and had been a good student from the beginning. The problem was that the Kin method of educating children was much more rigorous than the Human one, and he came to the city far ahead of other students his age. Nevertheless, he was forced to study the ridiculously easy, age appropriate texts during his homeschooling hours. He compensated by using his free time to learn the things he felt were important. He thought that what he studied on his own was more challenging, more interesting and much more suited to what he needed to learn than the prepackaged bundles and programs that he had to complete for his tutor.

  His math packet was a perfect example. He had learned many advanced algebra concepts before he had been taken from his home, so it frustrated him to have to complete six packets of what to him were basic mathematical computations before he could even get to the pre-algebra program. When he complained, he had been clearly told that there was no room for negotiation; the Humans had experts who insisted that if he didn’t learn the material in a particular order, it wouldn’t be ‘fundamentally cemented’ in his learning. Every subject was like that.

  “All right, next week is soon enough for that, I think, since you are reading all the time anyway. I never saw a teenager read like you, Scythe. It’s a little freaky.”

  It was more freaky than she knew. His tutors called him a good student because he read a lot and had a good memory, but the truth was that he had to read. He had to keep his mind busy with something, or he began to get a little frantic. Actually, he would get a lot frantic, so he made sure to keep a book handy or a problem to work on...something that kept his mind stimulated and happy. The other half of his freaky side was that once his mind got a hold of something, it didn’t let go. A good memory didn’t describe it.

  It probably sounded like some kind of wonderful gift, but it wasn’t. If he concentrated, he could remember nearly everything he ever saw, smelled, heard, felt...everything. The problem was that he didn’t always have to concentrate. Every now and then, usually when he didn't want them to, crystal clear memories barged their way in and made him relive moments that had long passed. It was fine when they were things he wanted to remember, but when they weren't…well, those could be hard.

  His father had taught him to meditate as soon as they found out, which was around five years old. The calming mental exercise did help some, so he did it at least once a day and more often if things were unusually rough. Emptying himself, wiping away the awareness of every tiny detail that bombarded him, wasn’t just a good habit for someone with the sharp senses of the Kin and the mind of a freak.

  “But, I am disappointed, Ian. I was hoping we’d find out something by now.”

  “Me, too.” He reached over and pulled an electronic tablet out of his bag and started writing a letter. His fingers flying over the keyboard, he assured her, “We’ll keep trying.”

  They had spent the day taking Scythe around to the homes of the victims...both dead and missing...from the town, but they hadn’t uncovered anything new. Scythe couldn’t detect any unusual or pertinent information from the people interviewed, nor did he notice anything helpful about the crime sites. Lena hoped that he might hear a clue in the testimonials that would give them an idea about the motivation behind the abductions, or at least give them something that would move them in the right direction.

  Today’s visit, as unproductive as it was, was still a big improvement over their earliest attempts. From the first day, it had proved to be extremely difficult to conduct their investigation, as Scythe’s facial features, athletic build and skin color made him indistinguishable from the marauding Kin as far as the local Humans were concerned. His slate skin looked just like a stone that had washed up on a riverbed, smooth and gray, and his bone structure was formed in the angular, stark cut of the Kin. When a Human looked at him, they only saw the parts of him that resembled the Kin, even though much of his fa
ce was Human.

  Conversely, the Kin only saw the Human. The Kin had beautiful eyes that were narrow and almond shaped, but Scythe’s were the larger and fuller eyes of his mother; they were too large for any Kin to be comfortable around. When they looked at him, they saw the eyes of a fish, lips that were oddly puffy and a face that was the wrong shape for its own features.

  More than once, Scythe was attacked on sight and had to be defended by the members of the security team. It was during one such event that he first saw Ian and Lena use their Human powers, something that he, like the rest of the Kin he had known, didn’t believe existed.

  The first time he was attacked, it was not that serious. There was some heated shouting, and then one man got physical and lashed out unexpectedly. The situation was easily brought under control by Lena’s strong presence and the help of a few of their soldiers.

  The last time, however, was very different. There was a large amount of people at the townhall meeting, but they were all very calm and responsive right up to the moment that everything went insane. One woman was describing the disappearance of her child. When she started to cry, everyone around her suddenly let go of their restraint all at once. They started yelling, which led to punching, and soon it was an all out riot.

  At first, their party tried to push its way out of the meeting hall. However, a small group forced their way past the line of security and grabbed Scythe, pulling him back into the crowd before Lena, Ian or their troops could react. He tried to struggle, but there seemed to be a million arms on him, pulling him down. Then something hit him hard on the back of the head.

  The next thing Scythe remembered was looking up from the floor at the enraged faces above him and raising his hands to ward off their kicks and punches. He covered his head and turned into the fetal position. Then he worked on getting onto his hands and knees so he could crawl out of the circle.