Queen of the Immortals

by T. R. Hamby

  His mother shoving him to the floor. His father yelling. The children he grew up with, throwing stones, calling him names. Screaming when he hurt them, and running to their parents to tattle.

  “What are you thinking about?” Nora whispered, breaking the silence.

  Roone sighed. He supposed he owed her this. “The children I grew up with were very vicious. They bullied me constantly. They would try to force me to use my Talent on them. See who could push me over the edge. They would remind me of my mother and father….how they left me….how they couldn’t handle a child like me.”

  He paused, took a shaky breath. It had been a long time since he had spoken of this.

  “I never had friends. Even the kind children would avoid me. The people who raised me were afraid of me. I wasn’t worthy to anyone. So….I was….very low, all the time. And I had stolen a knife….and….you know….I don’t know. It made things go away, I guess. I did it for a long time.”

  He chanced a glance at her, and saw sadness in her eyes. He felt an ache, and he looked away.

  “I’m sorry, Roone,” Nora whispered. “Truly….you didn’t deserve that.”

  He frowned. “Didn’t I?”

  “Of course not. You were a kid. You couldn’t control your Talent. It’s not your fault.”

  He was soothed by her words. If Nora said it, then it must be true. But it still didn’t change how he felt….how worthless he was, truly worthless.

  But Nora was here now. And she loved him; he knew she loved him. They could be together….and he would have a new life. They would have a new life.

  He looked at her. She looked at him too. She looked tired, peaked, but she was smiling ever so slightly.

  She was still beautiful.

  “Can I….can I kiss you?” Roone asked, steeling himself.

  Nora hesitated for a short moment. Then she nodded, and he leaned in close, brushed at her cheek and kissed her. It was every bit as good as their first kiss in the cafe….which had led to so many wonderful things.

  But not tonight. Tonight Nora needed to rest.

  He left her, and he wondered. Today was a good day, despite the earlier hysteria. Nora let him kiss her, had held his hand. It was going well….so wonderfully well.

  Maybe tomorrow, they could do something special. Maybe a picnic, if it wasn’t too cold. Maybe she could sing, and he would listen. Or maybe, he thought with a jolt, they could go to the hardware store across town, look at trim and paints, see what they wanted done to the house.

  Yes. Nora would love that.

  And maybe a romantic dinner….some wine, some chocolate. Maybe they would go to bed, repeat all those things they had done in the cafe.

  And maybe, for the first time, he would hear those words from her.

  I love you.

  Mel

  The rain was vicious, and had caused many drivers to pull over until it waned.

  But not Michael. Michael was an expert driver, and sent the car careening down the highway at nearly a hundred miles an hour. The rain pelted them in thick sheets. Mel didn’t know how Michael could see the road.

  Nora. God, Nora. Mel had been so panicked for so long that now he was dull, exhausted. But still his mind obsessed over her, his beloved, and he kept trying to think of ways they could find her. But so far following Them’s directions, westward into Kildare, was the best plan they could come up with.

  All three were silent. Michael drove, a muscle twitching in his jaw, swerving through lanes so often that Mel felt a little sick.

  Barry found a pack of playing cards behind the front seat and started playing Solitaire. Mel noticed that he alternated between this and hunching over, resting his head on his arms. Soon he was ignoring the cards altogether, holding his head in his hands, breathing deeply.

  It took Mel a while to realize what was going on.

  “Pull over,” he said.

  Michael frowned, saw Barry in the rearview mirror, and swung the car over. Mel darted through the rain and into the backseat.

  Barry looked up, frowning. He looked wan, and Mel felt a stab of guilt, remembering his behavior towards him earlier.

  He gathered up the cards and shuffled them. They began to drive again, and the two of them swayed in the backseat.

  Mel withdrew a card and displayed it for Barry to see. “Memorize this.”

  Barry was still frowning, but gave the card a look. “All right.”

  Mel tapped his arm insistently. “Yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Mel nodded and shuffled the deck again. He withdrew a random card and showed it to him. “Is this your card?”

  Barry raised an eyebrow. “No.”

  “No. It’s in your pocket.”

  Barry straightened and stuck his hand in his jacket pocket. Sure enough, the card Mel had placed when he had tapped his arm was there.

  He managed a smile, turning the card in his fingers. “Impressive.”

  “Here, I’ll teach you.”

  So for the next hour Mel taught Barry some tricks. It was a good distraction for both of them. The color returned to Barry’s face, and Mel, though he was still worried sick about Nora, had something to focus on.

  “Thanks,” Barry finally said, working on twirling a card between his fingers.

  They were bumping along an old country road now. The rain had lightened up, and the roads were slick with mud.

  Mel shrugged. “Consider it an apology.”

  “Nothing to apologize for,” he replied, focusing on the card. “I know I’m slowing you down. Especially with the….craving thing.”

  Mel wasn’t sure what to say. He felt a pang, knowing Barry was suffering too, his illness still haunting him. The stress probably wasn’t helping. He remembered when Barry had gotten his hands on those pills, how distressed he had been, so close to using again.

  He took a deep breath. “You’re not slowing us down, unless you keep thinking like that. Think of what Nora would say.”

  It hurt to say her name, and he thought of her now, trapped in a dingy basement, terrified and alone. Was she hurt? Them had said she wasn’t, but did she truly know that?

  “Walsh,” Michael said, and the two poked their heads around the front seat.

  A little road sign blurred by, “WALSH” written across it in white letters.

  “She said the store wasn’t far from the sign,” Barry said.

  They waited, and sure enough they came across a little store.

  They parked and got out. The ground was muddy, and the air was cold. They went inside to find a gruff looking clerk sitting at the register.

  Michael took the lead. “Afternoon,” he said, putting on a perfect Irish accent. “We’re looking for someone.”

  “Oh really,” the clerk said. “And what makes you think you can ask me?”

  Mel felt the first hint of anger, but he resisted, taking deep breaths. Let’s see if Michael could win him over first.

  Michael glanced around for a moment, then pointed, smiling, to a photo of a motorcycle on the wall. “You like touring? That’s an Ultra, yes?”

  The clerk’s lips twitched. “It is.”

  “I have a Wide Glide.”

  “Pssh. Kid’s bike,” he said, waving his hand, and Michael grinned.

  The clerk heaved a sigh. “All right, then.”

  “It’s a missing woman,” Michael said, pulling out his phone and bringing up a picture of Nora.

  He showed him, and the clerk frowned and nodded. “Came in this morning. Little thing. Boyfriend was with her.”

  Mel felt dizzy with relief. They were close.

  Michael was shaking his head. “He’s not her boyfriend.”

  “I see. And it takes three of you to find your runaway girlfriend, eh?”

  “She’s not run away,” Barry said, in his own Irish accent, which was pretty decent. “She’s my sister. He took her.”

  The way he spoke was innocent, indignant, as if he was a petulant child.

  “She didn
’t look taken to me,” the clerk replied, sounding bored now.

  “She’ll use again if we don’t find her,” he lied, and there was genuine fear in his voice.

  This caught the clerk’s attention. He paused, frowning, before sighing again.

  He jerked his head. “They went that way. Blue car. Don’t know where they went, but that road cuts clear through town. All right? That’s all I know.”

  Mel felt dizzy again, hope beginning to swell within him. They thanked him and hurried back to the car.

  “The fuck was that, Barry?” Michael said, grinning and looking at him in the rearview mirror.

  “Seriously? ‘Barrett?’ My dad’s Irish, wherever the fuck he is.”

  “We’re getting somewhere,” Mel breathed, his heart racing.

  They had a direction. Now just to find the house….

  Nora

  It was night.

  Nora lay in bed, listening, Wendy by her side. She knew Roone was asleep, but she wanted to be completely sure.

  She had cozied up to him all day. She hadn’t been perfect--she had flinched a couple times--and then she had completely lost her head when she remembered her medications. She had taken her Xanax--as much as she wanted to stay alert, she had just been too hysterical not to have some in her system.

  And then Roone had lain with her, and it had been soothing. He told her his own story, and she had been genuinely sorry for him. Poor Roone. He had had a hard childhood--a terrible childhood. It was no wonder he was so desperate for love.

  It had been an emotional day, on both sides.

  But it had all paid off. He had led her right to the car, and the keys were sitting in a dish by the back door.

  She could do it. She could escape. She just had to do so quietly….

  The clock on the table said midnight. Hopefully a good time….long enough for him to be completely asleep. She got out of bed, carefully picked up her boots. She wouldn’t put them on until she was out of the house. There were too many creaky floorboards.

  Wendy lay on the pillow, looking betrayed as Nora tiptoed out the door.

  One at a time, she ascended the steps. She was very careful, very slow, not wanting a single peep out of the stairs. Her heart pounded, and her body was shaking with adrenaline.

  She didn’t even need the car. If she could just get a ways away….maybe a quarter of a mile….far enough away so Roone couldn’t hurt Michael and Mel….

  She would take the keys anyway. Just in case. She finally got to the top of the steps, and carefully opened the door. No creaks, no squeaks. Good.

  She closed the door behind her, carefully moved through the kitchen to the counter. She pinched the keyring, and slowly lifted the keys out of the bowl.

  God, so close. Almost there.

  She went to the front door, took a deep breath. Do it, do it.

  She eased it open, and immediately an ear-splitting alarm began to shriek.

  Nora bolted, sprinting down the path and out into the grassy field. She followed the road, though it was dark and she could barely see. Her socked feet clapped against the soft grass, and her chest heaved as she tried to maintain her sprint.

  But a Presence was quickly catching up to her, and in a moment the familiar shocking pain overwhelmed her as if she was being electrocuted.

  She screamed, falling to the ground, hitting her head and breaking her wrist. The pain lasted for what felt like hours, and she continued to scream, thrashing on the ground, until the Presence was finally beside her.

  Then the pain vanished, and she felt gentle hands on her.

  “Where are you hurt?” Roone asked, touching her arms and her hands.

  “You hurt me,” Nora moaned, curling up into a ball.

  Her wrist was mending itself, and her head no longer hurt. But that horrible pain’s effects lingered. Her nerves were on end, and she found it difficult to move after curling up like that.

  “Shh,” Roone said soothingly.

  He carefully rolled her onto her back, and then scooped her into his arms. She tried to wriggle, crying, but her body still wouldn’t respond.

  She hadn’t gotten far. Roone carried her back inside the house, but instead of taking her downstairs, he went up instead.

  Nora felt an overwhelming surge of panic. “No no no please--please don’t hurt me--”

  “It’s all right,” he soothed, taking her into a bedroom. “This is a guest bedroom. You need fresh air; you can’t get that down there.”

  He settled her on a bed, and got her situated under the covers. She was still crying, and he sat beside her and brushed at her hair and her face. This didn’t remotely help, but she was tiring, and her tears stopped anyway.

  “There,” he whispered. “Just a bad dream.”

  “Please let me go,” she moaned softly. “Please, Roone….please….I’ll do anything….”

  “You have to give it time,” Roone said, though his voice broke. “Please try.”

  “You’re sick; you need help,” she breathed. “You’re not thinking clearly.”

  There was a long pause. Nora could barely see him in the darkness, but she could tell the mood had shifted. He was tense beside her.

  “So that’s what you think of me,” he said darkly.

  “You kidnapped me, Roone,” she said. “You injected me with god knows what….you’ve kept me in a basement, and you’ve been hurting me….of course that’s what I think of you….”

  “I’m doing this for you,” he hissed. “For us. You just don’t understand.”

  “I’m crying,” she whispered. “I’m scared. That’s what you’re doing to me.”

  He was quiet.

  Nora, finally regaining strength, turned away from him and pulled the covers over her head. She thought of Mel, and how close she had been to seeing him again. She had had no idea the old farmhouse had an alarm system….god….

  He was never letting her go. She was stuck here forever.

  She began to cry again. She felt Roone get off the bed, and heard him leave the room, shutting the door behind him.

  She continued to cry until she was worn out. Then she fell asleep, to awful dreams.

  She woke up, early in the morning, tired and angry. She got up, and went downstairs, not caring what he did to her now.

  She found him at the table, eating scrambled eggs. She ignored him, though he watched her, and went downstairs. She took a shower and got dressed. She looked at her face in the mirror--she looked drawn and pale.

  Nora returned to the kitchen. Despite everything she was hungry, and she took a plate and loaded it up with food. Then she sat down at the opposite end of the table and began to eat.

  She could feel Roone studying her, but she kept her eyes on her breakfast.

  After a long time, when her food was half-eaten, he said, “How are you feeling?”

  Nora tried not to snort. “Fabulous,” she muttered.

  “Are you hurt?”

  “Define the term,” she replied dryly, finally looking at him.

  He closed his eyes and ran his hands through his hair. “I wish you understood.”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” she snapped, returning to her eggs. “I had a life before this. I had a partner who loved me and didn’t hurt me. I had a family. Now I’m forced to live in this creaky-ass shithole that should have been condemned fifty years ago.”

  Roone scowled. “He would have hurt you eventually.”

  “In three days you’ve hurt me more than he’s ever done in two years,” she said, pushing her plate away.

  He looked away, pained. “You shouldn’t have tried to run.”

  “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to run to something bad?”

  “It doesn’t make you stupid. You’re just confused. Melkira is the King of the Wicked; all the trickster gods in history have been inspired by him. Satan, Loki, Hermes. He’s charming you.”

  Nora held her head in her hands. This arguing was so pointless. No matter what argument s
he made, he came up with his own deluded answer.

  “Am I the only woman you’ve stalked, in all these years?” she asked.

  She didn’t know why she cared, but when he hesitated, she was curious.

  “I’m not, am I?” she breathed, horrified. “You’ve done this before.”

  “Those were just infatuations,” he said quickly, and she could tell he was trying to placate her. “I didn’t love them. I love you.”

  “Did you do this to them?” she asked, waving vaguely at the room.

  “No,” he said. “I didn’t have to….they wanted to be with me.”

  Nora highly doubted that. But she supposed if these relationships happened in a time when marriage was crucial to survival, it didn’t matter.

  Hopefully.

  He sighed, ran his hands over his face. “Let’s just….start over. We can do that, can’t we?”

  Nora snorted. “No,” she said with venom. “I’m done playing nice to you.”

  Roone looked hurt. “You can’t hate me forever,” he said icily.

  “I won’t have to,” she growled back. “Mel will find me, and then he’ll kill you.”

  “If he finds us, I’ll cause him more pain than he’s ever felt in his life,” Roone whispered. “And then I’ll kill him.”

  They stared at each other.

  Nora remembered: Roone couldn’t kill Mel. Of course, he could still incapacitate him long enough to take Nora and escape. But it was a small comfort, knowing Mel would always be safe. And maybe always searching for her, coming up with new ways of rescuing her.

  She still wanted to injure, so she replied, “He’s far better than you. Stronger. Eventually you’ll lose.”

  She got the reaction she wanted; Roone looked very saddened, and he got up and trudged upstairs.

  She sat there, and was surprised to find herself feeling guilty. He had hurt her, yes, but in his twisted mind it had been for her own good. He truly believed they belonged together, that Mel was using her. He was feeling the kind of pain she would have felt if Mel had repeated her words to her.