Bloodlines

by Powell, Jaime W.

  “Dad, there’s only one person in this town who might know how to find them.”

  “Who?” he asks. I glance to Silas for help.

  “You have access to a records keeper,” Silas reminds him.

  My dad’s head falls backward as he laughs at the ceiling. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Bill? You think Bill would help us? He’s one of them!” he exclaims, referring to the other Huntsmen.

  “Not necessarily,” I say. “Bill never agreed to either alliance. Dad, he’s the only person who might have records of where some are. If we can’t get to Bill, we don’t stand a chance.”

  Dad crosses his arms, covering his mouth with his hand and closing his eyes.

  “I know this has to be hard for you,” I begin before he interrupts me.

  “No, it’s not. I’ve already lost my wife. My daughter won’t be next.”

  Twenty

  We’re at War

  It’s raining today as though the heavens mourn the loss with us. Dad had to bring me something appropriate from home to wear for the funeral. He picked a dress which wouldn’t have been my first choice, but I can’t think about that right now. All I can do it listen to the rain and stare blankly into the mirror.

  I thought by the time I buried one of my parents I would have wrinkles or some sign of maturity in my face, my body, or even my mind. When I gaze at the girl in the mirror, though, all I see is a teenager forced to wear a dress. Something inside me isn’t registering with me. I feel the pain and the hurt, but I’m not able to cry.

  I want to. I want some form of action to help with the pain, the fear, the anxiety, but there is none. I pull a curlicue of my hair in frustration and it bounces back in place at my release. I sigh, turning away from the mirror. I can’t stand to look at myself.

  I know this is all my fault. My mother is dead because of me. I fell in love with a half-breed, and now someone unknown has broken into our home, killed my mother — my father’s love — and everyone who I care about is in danger. Not to mention there seems to be a battle brewing.

  “Em?” my father’s voice says, breaking through the silence. “It’s time to go.”

  I walk to the cracked door and open it wide, staring at my father dressed in a suit that’s still dusty from years of being packed away. “Dad. I know I haven’t said this yet. I suppose I was too ashamed. But I’m sorry. I’m sorry about Mom.”

  He shakes his head. “What happened to your mother wasn’t your fault. I want you to know that.”

  “How can you say that? You know what I’ve done.”

  “Yes, I know what you’ve done, Emma. That doesn’t mean that someone being murdered is your fault.”

  My eyes fall to the floor. There’s a question that’s been bothering me since this happened. I’m not sure why I feel the need to ask it, but I guess I just have to know. “What did the police say? How did she die?”

  My father swallows hard. “They said it was a heart attack.”

  My head pops up to meet his eyes and my blood begins to boil. “What? What are you talking about? It was murder!”

  My father quickly grabs my shoulders and walks me backward to my bed, sitting us on the edge. “Listen to what I’m telling you. Whoever killed your mother knew what they were doing. They were able to make it seem like a natural death. But listen when I say this is not a bad thing.”

  “How can you—”

  “Emma, we’re at war. Do you understand? This keeps us all off the radar. If the police knew it was a murder, there would be questioning of almost everyone in town, including you and me. Then if there was a battle we’d be linked to any deaths because they might be linked to hers.

  “We can’t risk everyone’s life for the sake of finding the killer. If a battle truly is brewing then the less the police know the better.” He stops and searches my face. I know it’s blank with the reality of his words sinking in.

  “There will be justice for her. Whoever did this will more than likely either be at that battle or be with the Huntsmen or both. If they’re with the Huntsmen they will get dealt with in due time. Tell me you understand,” he says.

  “I understand,” I mutter. “But she knew her killer.”

  He nods. “I know. It was a Huntsman. And we will get our justice. But for now we have to keep you safe.”

  He pats my leg before we stand and exit the room. As we enter the living room Silas takes me around the waist and I sink into his side. “I’m going to ride with Dad today, okay? He needs me.”

  Silas nods. “Of course.”

  As my father pulls out of the drive I take one of his hands from the wheel and hold it. I can give him this, the support he needs to get through this, because after today there might not be any more time for comfort, support, or feelings. Everything will need to be put aside until whatever is going to happen happens.

  * * *

  As my father and I share an umbrella I listen to the preacher speak of Heaven, the Earth, and what happens when we die. I find no comfort in his words. He knows so little about the truth. And even if he thinks he knows, he’s never seen it the way we all have. We’re living it.

  My father, still loyal to his faith, listens intently, bows his head at the appropriate times and gives a forced, small smile at other times. I’ve never had a poker face. I’m not sure how I’ll ever be able to successfully live the lie I’m supposed to after I’m of age. He has had a poker face since I’ve been born, and I’m sure before that as soon as he turned eighteen.

  I glance to my left to find Silas, Zeke, and Kutz bowing their heads in respect. Near them stand Molly, Rain, and David, but none of the other Huntsmen showed to pay their respect. That in and of itself tells me all I need to know about them. My father has been in their service for years yet they don’t come. Either they have no sense of respect and family, or the even more disturbing conclusion: they’re responsible.

  I grind my teeth at the thought. I think of Abraham and his son Jason who were so smug, bold, and arrogant. And I think of Dennis who was willing to kill his own brother for the Society. I shake my head, trying to erase my evil thoughts and respect my mother’s funeral.

  “You okay?” Silas asks as we walk to his truck after the ceremony.

  “I’m…maintaining.”

  “You don’t have to, you know? I think a good cry might be beneficial. At least that’s what I’ve always heard,” he remarks.

  My brows pull together. “What do you mean? You don’t ever cry?”

  “I’ve never cried. Even as a baby. I don’t think we’re able to. I feel sadness the same as you. I feel pain, but actual crying? No.”

  “Wow. I didn’t know that. But I don’t need to cry. I need to save my emotions. They’ll be useful later. Maybe after everything is over I’ll sit and have a good cry.”

  * * *

  It’s Zeke and Rain’s night to watch after things as my dad takes care of more of mom’s and his affairs at home. Usually I’d be up in my room pouting but I had a feeling this would be too good to miss. The aura queen and the tough guy Incubus. And they don’t disappoint.

  “So, do you sleep? Or are you like vampires? Can’t vampires stay awake for long periods of time? I’ve never met an Incubus before, tell me about yourself,” talkative Rain insists. She leans forward, intent on soaking up every word he says.

  “No.”

  I lower my head at his answer, stifling a grin, but I’m sure my dimples give me away as Rain straightens back up.

  “Well, what are we going to do all night if you refuse to talk to me?” she asks him.

  My eyes shift to Zeke. “Hopefully, sit in peace.”

  I shake my head at his callousness. Poor Rain. She had no idea what she was in for. “Rain can read aura’s, Zeke,” I say, trying not to laugh.

  “I can! Would you like to know what yours looks like? I can tell you what it means and—”

  “No,” he interrupts.

  I must turn my head this time to keep the chuckle from their view. But
soon I grow tired of the childish game and head back to my prison where I open my window for some fresh air and grab a random book from my bag. I’m alone in my room for several hours before I feel a shift in the air. I need not peek up from my book to see what’s changed. I’d know this feeling anywhere.

  “Micah,” I state in acknowledgment.

  “Hello, Emma. How are you today?”

  “Oh, you know, just a little tired from cleaning up your handiwork.”

  “Emma—”

  “No, Micah. I’m not interested in anything from you anymore. You try to take me away, you successfully take my mother, then you have the nerve to kiss me. You know my feelings about everything you’ve done. I think I’ve made everything quite clear.”

  “If you would just let me—”

  “Why don’t you ever show yourself when I’m around other people? You always swoop in like…well, the angel of death, at night when I’m alone and vulnerable. It’s not fair to me. You’re screwing with my head.”

  “I’m only interested in seeing you. Besides, I’m not able to show myself to common humans,” he explains.

  “So, what? I’m not common?” I ask, finally putting my book down.

  He smiles. “You’ve seen me before. The circumstances are a bit different.”

  I shake my head. “I wish you’d stay away from me. If you had any good sense you’d know I never want to see you again.”

  He sits on the edge of my bed and brushes my hair from my cheek. “If you knew how much I loved you you’d never say something like that to me again.”

  “Micah, you’re not allowed to have these feelings. I’m probably already going to Hell for loving Silas. I can’t imagine what would happen to me if an angel quit the job on my account.” I have to laugh at my own words. How ridiculous is this? Surprisingly Micah chuckles, too.

  “Quit the job, huh?”

  “Well, am I wrong?” I ask.

  “No, I suppose you’re not wrong. But, although you know a lot, you don’t know all the ins and outs of how everything works. And you’re not going to Hell. You cared for Silas before I came along, yet I still came for you. What’s that tell you?”

  “I hadn’t acted on that love yet.”

  “A sin needn’t be an act. An impure thought alone is a sin. You’re human, you’ll always sin.”

  “I’m not sorry, though,” I retort. “I’m not sorry for this sin.”

  “It’s not up to me who gets in and who doesn’t, Emma. I’m just the usher. Apparently, God looks upon you with special favor. It happens.”

  “There’s nothing special about me,” I mutter.

  “Well, you got my attention. I haven’t threatened to ’quit my job,’ as you put it, until now.”

  “Yes,” I say, annoyed once more, “which begs the question, why?”

  Micah lowers his eyes as if he’s in deep thought. When they rise once more, he is again smiling and shaking his head slightly as he looks me square in the eye. “Can you help who you love?” My head falls slightly, but he places his cool hand under my chin and lifts it up, meeting my eyes. “Then why should I be expected to?”

  Twenty-One

  The Bookkeeper

  Two weeks have passed since my mother’s funeral, and still I’m unable to cry. All I can think about is impending death for us all. No one knows what Damius has planned, but we all know we’re out numbered. I contemplate this as I listen to Simone ramble on, but soon she has my undivided attention.

  “So Evan and I broke up,” she states as I yawn through the phone.

  “Well, that didn’t last long. What happened?”

  “Oh, Emma. Kutz is what happened.” I almost drop the phone. Surely she didn’t mean Silas’s brother. Although I didn’t know anyone else with a name like Kutz, and since she has taken over my job at the pizzeria, process of elimination…

  I must remain calm or else she will wonder why I’m upset. I can’t imagine little Simone in the thick of things. Especially a war against good and evil in our own Jefferson, Texas.

  “Does he feel the same way about you?” Say no, Simone, say no.

  She sighs into the phone, and I picture her daydreaming out of her window. “I’m not sure. We flirt a lot back and forth but nothing has been said. He is so dreamy though. One day, Emma, I could have sworn I saw those green eyes of his glow, they were so bright.”

  My eyes snap shut. Glowing eyes. This can’t be good. I want to warn her and tell her to run, to leave town and never come back, but I know I can’t do that. She’d never listen anyway. Typical teenager.

  “Yeah, Josh asked me out after Evan and I broke up, but he’s no match for Kutz,” she goes on. As she continues to ramble, it’s no longer my impending death I’m concerned with. I can only think of what might happen to Simone if this continues and she is left unprotected.

  I could get mad and question why Kutz would ever put her in danger, but I’d be a hypocrite. Silas did the same thing with me. It’s no wonder Zeke stays mad and silent. I’m understanding him a lot more these days. When I’m finally able to get Simone off the phone, I head to the kitchen to make some morning coffee.

  As I wait for it to brew, I bite my nails and stare at the pot, willing it to percolate faster. I don’t even notice when Zeke walks up on me.

  “You’re white as a ghost, Emma.”

  “Huh? Oh, I’m fine. Just missing vitamin D, I guess. Being stuck in this house is doing me in.”

  “I feel ya,” he says. “I thought the days of our kind hiding in the dark were over. I suppose they’ll never be completely over. There will always be reasons to hide.” As he pours himself a cup of coffee, I can’t help but notice this is the most I’ve heard him talk since I’ve known him. At least the most he has spoken to me.

  “Everyone has reason to hide sometimes. You’re not special,” I mutter the last under my breath as I pour my own cup.

  I peek at him to see the corner of his mouth turned up in amusement. “No, I guess I’m not.”

  “Sorry,” I say. “It’s just early.” I’m not sure how I feel about that small lie. What’s my other choice though? ”Oh, sorry for my mouth, it’s just that another one of your brothers is in love with a human“? Yeah, that would go over well.

  I hear the door open, and panic spreads through me before I realize it’s my father.

  “You’re jumpy for first thing in the morning,” Zeke mutters in my direction before we both enter the living room to greet him.

  “Hey, Dad. Want some coffee?”

  “Absolutely,” he says, taking his cap off and rubbing his head. I know he must be a nervous wreck. I take him a cup of his own, and Molly joins us as we wait for Silas and Kutz. Kutz. I could kill him.

  “You look so tired, Christopher,” Molly says, taking notice of his disheveled appearance. His shirt is wrinkled and his hair stands up on end.

  “I’m okay. Just a little concerned for today,” he admits. Today is the day. It took my father two weeks before Bill, the bookkeeper, finally agreed to meet with us. I’m not sure if he was afraid of us or afraid for his life if he was caught with us. Maybe both.

  I couldn’t blame him. I was scared for him, too. This couldn’t have been an easy decision for him. Especially if they had anything to do with my mother’s death. If anyone finds out he’s meeting with us, his days could be numbered.

  “Everything is going to be okay, Mr. Lester,” Zeke assures him.

  My father nods before downing a few gulps of coffee. Soon Silas and Kutz show up, and although I’m happy to see Silas, my eyes can’t stay off Kutz. I have no reason to be as upset as I am, but still, fury builds inside of me. No one is more innocent than Simone, and he is destroying that innocence.

  “Something wrong?” Silas whispers to me.

  I shake my head. “Just nervous,” I lie again.

  Silas takes me off to the side, sweeping my hair from my face and placing his hands on either side of my face. “You know, you don’t have to pretend with me. If s
omething is bothering you then tell me. We’ll work it out.”

  I place my hands atop his. “Now’s not the time. Later, maybe.” I press my lips to his for a moment, savoring the sensation, but quickly tear them away and pull him back toward the group.

  “So, what’s the game plan? You have a speech prepared?” Kutz asks my father.

  My father turns his head a bit. “I must have gone over what I’d say a million times. But truth be told, I’ll know what to say when I’m there. Something like this can’t be planned. It needs to come from my heart, not my head.”

  “Maybe,” Molly says, “but you have to remember your audience. Bill is…intelligent. Almost to the point of having all head and no heart. So you still need to feed it to him on a realistic level.”

  * * *

  “I wish you’d tell me what’s on your mind. I can sense it, you know. You’re angry. I’m keen to human emotions,” Silas states as we drive to the secluded cemetery Bill has picked to meet us at.

  “Like I said before, now’s not the time.” I squeeze our intertwined hands in my lap.

  “Are you worried about this meeting?” he asks. My ears almost perk up as a dog’s would.

  “Worried? What do you mean? About what Bill will say?”

  “I was thinking more in terms of maybe it being a trap,” he admits. I can’t believe this hasn’t crossed my mind. The small, country cemetery would be convenient for an attack if that was his plan. But I’m convinced it’s a legit meeting.

  “That wouldn’t happen. There’s more of us now than them,” I assure him.

  “There are others of their kind, just like there are others of ours,” he mumbles, but I ignore him.

  As we pull up the hill and around the windy blacktop road, I see Bill, his head in a book, sitting on a bench in the middle of the tiny cemetery. He’s alone. This is a small place. There aren’t many places to hide. He hears the roars of our vehicles as we park and turn the engines off. He stands, dusting off his pants and closing his book.