She cleaned the blade, sheathing it before stepping back. “Something more valuable than her life is keeping her from telling. You’re going to have to do your thing, and we’ll have to decide what to do with her later.”
“What thing?” asked Scythe, listening to a quick pulse and noting how it’s rhythm matched up with the sobbing periodically. His fingers unconsciously slid back and forth over wet skin. He dipped his head, tilting it sideways to peek at Harmony through his long hair.
“Scythe!” Leandra barked, startling him. “I want you to dose right now.”
His anger piqued by her tone, he stared defiantly at her.
She reached out to his pocket, but gasped when his hand shot up and clamped on her wrist. Heh. Way too slow. “What are you doing?” he asked, his voice sharp.
She pulled back on her hand, frowning when he held it tight, “You are having symptoms of the virus. You need to dose.”
“I’m not hurting anyone,” he said in a cool tone. Who does she think she is?
“Let go,” she commanded, stepping back when he complied. She casually assumed a ready stance. “Scythe, focus on my words.”
Her words said one thing, but her change in posture told him something completely different. The body never lied. The mouth, sure, but not the body. His fingers trailed down Harmony’s arm briefly before he released her. He waited.
“Damn, where is Smoke when I need him?” she muttered. “I want you to take the dose you have in your pocket because I think you are symptomatic.”
“I feel fine.” He lied.
On the contrary, he felt great...full of power that was itching to be released. The woman next to him was nothing, not even worth considering, but this one...this one was different. He could tell by the way she stood that she could move, that she could fight. He wanted her to come at him so he could smack her down. Then he was going to do the same to the other one.
“Fine, you feel good. Do you feel like licking up her blood?”
Scythe blinked, processing what she said. Blood...no, wait...Blood was not for...His head cleared a little when he realized that it was exactly what he wanted.
Leandra, seeing his reaction, nodded her head, “I thought so. Take it. Now.”
He looked down at the two bulges in his chest pocket. His hand seemed to move of its own accord, reaching up and unfastening the pocket. As he took hold of one of the syringes, he said, suddenly disoriented, “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
No.
That quiet rejection decided it for him.
Grant asked, as Scythe put the tube to his arm and released the medication, “What is going on?”
“This is a treatment for the virus I was infected with in Shelfield,” Scythe said, feeling slightly sick as a dull wave washed over his body and numbed his mind. Despite being sure that it was the right decision, he still regretted the loss of the euphoric feeling of strength.
Stupid jackass. The voice shrunk and retreated into a corner of his mind.
“Sometimes, I get violent when I’m stressed, so I carry this around in case of an emergency. This is the first time I’ve used it.”
“The virus makes you violent?” he asked, appalled.
Scythe squeezed his eyes closed, shaken by the man’s horror and his own self-loathing. “Yes, I can be a real bastard.”
“Damn,” the man murmured. “There’s no cure?”
“No,” he looked at Leandra and Pride, confessing in Kin, “I didn’t even know it was affecting me.” His eyes betrayed his stark fear. “I wouldn’t have dosed myself, Leandra.”
“I know,” she replied solemnly. Then, shrugging her shoulders, she said, “We’ll just have to stay close until we can work out something else.”
“I...I almost attacked you,” he whispered, grasping the syringe tightly.
“Well, that would have been a big mistake, Sleepyhead, ‘cause I would have kicked your butt.” She gave him a wry grin before gripping his shoulder, “For now, we need to focus on what we are going to do. I want you to do your eye thingy on Harmony here and get what info you can. Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m feeling spaced out, but I’ll try.” He felt like he stood in a thin cloud of fog. It kept him relaxed, but it also made him feel disturbingly vulnerable. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hands, trying to clear out the haze, but it didn’t help.
“Good.” She held up Harmony’s head, stepping aside to let Scythe stand close.
“What? What are you doing?” Harmony squeaked.
Scythe gratefully noted that Harmony’s shaky voice didn’t excite him in the least. To the contrary, he felt detached. He took a deep breath before saying, “You don’t have to tell us anything, don’t worry. We’ve decided not to hurt you.”
“Why? What are you going to do?”
He started by reciting the names of his missing friends while he looked into her eyes. “Lena, Ian.” The thin film peeled away and he let her mind surround him.
A large sphere that didn’t concern him stood in the way of all her memories and he began to skirt it. As he made his way around it, an impulse nagged at him, and he paused to give it a closer look. Inside, a young girl, maybe two or three was playing on the kitchen floor. Looking at her, he remembered something and the memory was as real to him as any that he had ever had himself: the same girl as a newborn baby nursed at her mother Harmony’s breast. His chest felt like it was swelling, or bursting when he looked at her, because that was what Harmony was feeling at that moment.
Miriam. Her sweet Miriam was sitting on a woman's lap, playing with a toy, oblivious to her mother’s fear. To Scythe, it was his sweet Miriam, sitting there in danger. His skin felt cold in his real body.
“Get off. Get out,” Harmony pleaded from far away. Her fear was rising again. This time, however, it wasn’t touching him because the drug was doing its job in his system. The drug wasn’t having any effect on his immersion in the vision, though. He was still feeling everything the woman in front of him was, and it didn’t feel good.
“It would be terrible if something were to happen to this adorable young thing,” said the woman casually, stroking Miriam’s hair. “You should consider our offer carefully.”
“Miriam,” Scythe said aloud, hearing Harmony’s moan in the distance.
“They’re friends,” protested Harmony in the memory.
“They’re already dead to you, why endanger your daughter as well?” The woman became impatient, placing the child roughly on the floor, ignoring her startled cry. “Let’s cut to the chase. You don’t have a choice. You can disappear, your daughter can disappear, or you can assist us. Do we need to take her to convince you?”
“No! Don’t touch her!” Harmony rushed forwardwith tears on her cheeks and scooped up her daughter. Scythe’s arms were like ribbons that tied into a bow the moment they encircled the girl, cinching closed a package that had been ripped open carelessly by the nasty woman in front of Harmony. He was never going to put his daughter down again. Finally noticing that her mother was upset, Miriam began to cry.
He pressed his face into her hair. “I’ll do it.” The guilt weighed on him, scorching something crucial in his heart, but the strength of what he felt for his daughter was more compelling than even that. He would do anything for her.
“Oh, God! Don’t, please,” Harmony pleaded distantly, and he felt her shame spilling out with each word.
“Of course you will. We’ll be in touch.”
Another memory popped up. This time Harmony faced the Kin who had stood in the background in the earlier vision.
“This phase is too important for you to be distracted with the care of a child. So, your daughter will be in our custody until it is over. Make sure they arrive at the warehouse, Harmony. That is all you need concern yourself with.”
Stabbing, incapacitating fear and pain. Miriam!
“Crap,” cursed Scythe, moving away from the single most important thing in Harmony’s life. R
emembering, now that he was separate from the memory, that it wasn’t his most important thing, he prompted, “I need to see my friends, Harmony.”
“What...what are you?”
“Show me where they are.”
A swirling sphere that felt familiar somehow pushed past several others. Scythe moved into it to see a small room, empty except for two chairs; tied to one was a woman with a bag over her head. A little girl ran from Harmony’s side to the captive, “Auntie Lena!”
Lena started, bowing her head in the direction of the girl, “Mercy?”
“It’s me, Auntie Lena. Harmony brought me.”
“What? Are you okay honey?”
“Yes, I’m okay, but I’m a little scared.”
“Harmony? Can you take this off?”
Harmony said, from the door because she was afraid to step closer, “No, I’m afraid they have forbidden it, Lena. You shouldn’t have killed all those people at the compound. They are going to be very cautious with you now. Look, I...I’m really sorry about this.”
“I bet you are. Where is my brother?”
“I’m not sure. I’m just in charge of you and Mercy.”
“Shit, Harmony, you were my friend. How could you let this happen?” That hurt Scythe, it really did. To cover the hurt, he got angry.
He/she snapped, “How do you think? Do you think I volunteered?”
“Miriam?” When Harmony didn’t answer, Lena continued in a biting voice, “And so here you are, holding Mercy the same way? What the hell?”
“Auntie Lena, mommy says you can’t talk like that around me,” Mercy said, squeezing Lena around the waste and leaning on her. “Can’t you untie my auntie?” she asked Harmony.
“No, Mercy. Now come with me, it’s time to go.” He had to get out of that room.
“Wait,” protested Lena. “What’s going to happen to her?”
“I don’t know,” he lied. He did know. He knew, and it was horrible. He had to get out of there, or he might do something stupid, like pull off a bag and untie his friend. Help his friend and kill his daughter.
“Har, will you try...will you try to watch out for her...for me? Will you try to...”
Scythe felt a weariness begin to creep up on him. It was like his body was sagging on the inside. His tired eyes began stinging. He blinked, and the room wavered. He started to slide out of the sphere. With an effort, he stopped himself, holding the picture of the cell with his mind. He took a breath and forced himself back in.
“Lena, there’s nothing I can do, except care for her like my own daughter when she is with me. Her life, your life, you whole family, that’s out of my hands. Do you understand?” She paused, her throat tight, “I’m...really sorry, Lena. You know I...”
“You are a sack of shit, Harmony.”
Although they hurt him, Lena’s words would have affected him more if he didn’t already know it, if he hadn’t already told himself the same thing over and over. Knowing it was the only thing that let him continue doing what he had to. Because, if he hadn’t been a sack of shit, if he had been someone of integrity, like Lena, like her brother, then he wouldn’t have been able to stand for it, would he? Nope, only a sack of shit could make it through something like this alive. Only a sack of shit would have what it took to save Miriam. He didn’t care. He could definitely accept being shit for something like that.
Easier to be shit, than to die, or let his daughter die. Lena was nice and clean, and she’d still be nice and clean when her entire family, down to that precious baby, were lying clean in their clean caskets.
Her baby’s life was more valuable to Harmony than being clean.
Harmony put her hand out and beckoned, “Time to go, Mercy.”
“I want to stay with Lena,” the girl said, squeezing her aunt tighter. She lifted her head to stare defiantly at Harmony when her eyes widened, and her mouth opened in surprise. “Uncle Scythe?” She looked straight at Scythe, through Harmony’s eyes.
Scythe’s heart started to beat madly in his chest in response to the rush of adrenaline that shot through him. He reached out and held Harmony by her shoulders.
He heard Leandra’s dim voice, “What? What’s going on?”
“Mercy. Can you hear me?” asked Scythe incredulously.
“Oh my god,” whispered Harmony. “She...she...”
Lena asked, “What, honey?”
Mercy smiled and patted Lena’s hand, “It’s Uncle Scythe. He’s coming to rescue us, Aunt Lena.”
“How do you know, honey?”
“I just know, Auntie, like Mommy does, sometimes.” She hugged Lena. “He’s coming for us, and Mommy and Daddy and Will. That’s just how he is, right, Uncle Scythe?”
Harmony nervously looked around and then asked, “Who is she talking to?”
“My Uncle Scythe. He’s special, right Auntie Lena?”
“Mercy, don’t tell people about your Uncle Scythe, okay?”
“Okay.” She smiled again at Scythe, lifting her hand to wave. “He has the prettiest green eyes.”
A beep at her side reminded Harmony of her obligations. She looked down and tapped her data pad before saying, “Lena, I have to take her now. I’ve been told to tell you that if one more person is injured, she’ll be...she’ll be taken from you. So, please, just cooperate, will you?”
“Sure, I’ll be a good girl. What’s going to happen to us?”
“I can’t tell you that, but I think you and Mercy are being kept together. Will and Faith are still with Ian.”
“Are they okay?”
“Ian was really beaten up in the fight, but I know he’s alive. Faith and Will are fine.”
“So, why are we being held? I don’t understand that at all.”
“Surprisingly, they don’t explain themselves to me, Lena. Now, send her over so I don’t have to get some guards in here. You’ll see her again tomorrow.”
Lena said, bringing her head down close to Mercy, “Alright, Mercy, go with Harmony, but, don’t be good for her. Give her real hell, for Auntie Lena, okay? I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She stretched up and kissed Lena’s cheek through the bag. “I love you.” She walked over to Harmony, shaking her head at the woman’s outstretched hand. “My Uncle Scythe is going to be very mad at you,” she scolded. “He might lose his temper.” She looked deeper into Harmony’s eyes again, “Bye, Uncle Scythe. I love you! See you later!” She waved and then passed Harmony on her way through the door.
Harmony waited for the door to close before she asked, “What the hell was that all about? Is she crazy?”
Lena didn’t answer.
“Scythe, this is taking too long, can you hurry it up?” Leandra’s voice was right next to his ear.
“I’ll try,” he answered, pulling out of the memory. A slow ache was starting to build up in the back of his head. He rubbed his neck. “I need to know where they are, Harmony. Show me the warehouse.”
“Get out,” Harmony demanded, struggling to pull her mind free, but failing.
“You could just tell us,” suggested Grant.
“No, she can’t. They are holding her daughter,” said Scythe, moving to the bubble that had popped up when he mentioned the warehouse. “I’ve got it.”
“Hurry, I’m getting an itchy feeling,” said Leandra. “Smoke should be back by now.”
She walked up the ramp to the warehouse, knocking on the door before trying the handle. It was locked, but was opened shortly by a man in combat fatigues. Looking past her briefly, he stepped aside to let her pass by. A large warehouse stood mostly empty, with just a few crates piled up on one wall. The ceiling was lined with the skylights typical for warehouses, dotted periodically with solar charged lighting. Tinted glass walls indicated three offices on the right, and a stairway led to the two larger offices above them. Outside of the upper rooms, some eight guards with weapons stood on the balcony. A woman left the farthest of the lower rooms, striding quickly across the cement.
“Good, our eyes tell us they will be heading this way. You are to bring them here, all of them, and then your role in this is finished.”
“And my daughter?”
“She is free when we have what we want, naturally.”
“I want to see her,” said Harmony forcefully.
“Get out.”
Harmony turned back to the door, her eyes skimming over the soldiers stationed all along the upper catwalk that crisscrossed just under the ceiling.
“It’s not healthy to look around too much,” commented the guard who had opened the door. She looked closely at him for the first time...
At that moment, Scythe felt the last of the adrenaline leave his system. His concentration evaporated with his remaining strength. The spheres started to grow larger and merge into and out of each other. He started to fall into them, their disjointed images blasting into his mind one after another. Tree. Skiing. Laughter. Car. Laundering sheets. Crawling. Data pad.
Long, long away, he heard Harmony’s voice join his in a wordless cry. He tried to close his eyes, to get out, but his body was gone. The only thing that existed for him was Harmony’s mind. He tried to back out of her thoughts, but he couldn’t tell which way to go. Everywhere he looked was up and down at the same time, and he was spinning, faster and faster.
Pillow, sailing, tears, a slap on the face, sorting shells, nail polish green apple buying a dress hug reading waspterminalpushingadoorbellslammingdownthephonewaterspoutthreegreen...
Halfblood Heritage Page 31