by L. S. O'Dea
She started to ask a question. He stopped speaking and cocked an eyebrow in her direction. She clamped her mouth shut. He grinned and continued with the story.
“A few years after Theresa’s death, Christian pulled himself out of his despondency and decided that he was going to leave. There was nothing but sad memories left for him here and he was done with sorrow. That night, on the anniversary of Theresa’s death, Christian told Harold his plans.
“At first, Harold was elated. He hated Christian and would be glad to see him leave, but then he started thinking why should Christian get to start over? He already had Heather’s love and Theresa’s. What did Harold have? Harold had nothing, nothing but his brother. Harold begged his brother not to leave but Christian was insistent. He pleaded with Christian to let him come along, but Christian wanted nothing to remind him of his past. So, Harold changed his tactics and convinced his brother to stay one more day.
“Harold worked all night on a special dinner. After they ate, he convinced Christian to walk with him down by the lake, to say a last farewell to Theresa and Heather. As they neared the lake, Christian began to sweat.” He leaned closer to her and spoke in a hushed tone. “His skin began to get clammy. He started to gasp for air. Harold, pretending to help, hurried Christian closer to the lake. When they were close enough he shoved his brother into the water.”
He finished in a loud voice and she jumped. He chuckled. She glared at him and then smiled. The best thing about these types of stories was the scare. He stared at her for several moments. Did she have food on her face? Her smiled faded. He blinked a couple of times and quickly looked away.
“Anyway, Christian tried to pull himself out of the lake but he had cried so many tears that the water wanted him and dragged him back into its depths.”
She was unable to keep quiet one more second. “Did he drown?”
He shook his head. “No. Once under water Christian realized that he could breath, but with each breath his body changed a little. First, gills broke out in slits along his throat. Then his hands and feet began to change. They became webbed like flippers. His skin took on a silver hue and scales appeared.”
“He turned into a fish,” she said.
“Not exactly. He was still an Almighty but also a fish.”
“What did Harold do?” she asked eagerly.
“At first, Harold thought that his brother had drowned, but then there were signs that something haunted the lake. Something not quite fish and not quite man. Harold realized that his potion had worked. Christian would be forced to stay there forever, alone in the lake.”
“One day when Harold was at the lake, Christian allowed his brother to see him. Harold laughed and said that the mighty Christian could now be caught in a net or on a fishing line. No female would ever choose Christian over Harold again. Harold left the lake promising to visit on a regular basis.” He stopped and looked at her.
“That’s the end? Harold won. That’s not a very good story.”
“Not all evil is punished,” he said and shrugged.
He was right and that made her sad. “No. I guess not, but...”
He winked at her. “I’m not finished.”
“Oh. Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly at him. She’d seen a male Producer wink at Clarabelle once and Clarabelle had told him to quit flirting. If Jethro was flirting, she wouldn’t tell him to stop.
“What Harold didn’t realize was that Christian was not entirely stuck in the water. He had gills but also still had lungs. Late one evening when the moon was full, Christian crept into the house and snuck into Harold’s bed chamber. Harold slept soundly, peacefully until Christian began to choke him. Harold woke and fought back. They struggled and Harold escaped Christian’s hold and raced to his laboratory. Christian chased after him.
“Inside the lab, Harold attacked. He jumped on his brother and tried to pour the contents of a vial over Christian’s head. Christian overpowered Harold and smashed the container on his brother’s skull. Harold screamed and smoke poured from his body where the liquid from the bottle touched him. He shoved away from Christian and ran outside and down to the water. The elixir burned like fire and he jumped into the lake. The potion reacted with the water, especially the tears from Christian, and Harold felt his body changing.”
“What did he turn into?” She leaned closer to him.
“He became slippery and he started to stretch. He realized that he no longer needed to breathe. His skin turned green and branched out into thousands of strands. He became the lake grass. To this day, fishermen tell of fish being found entangled in the seaweed and drowned. It is Harold, still trying to catch his brother and kill him.”
Should she tell him about the River-Man? He probably already knew since he came down here a lot. “I saw Christian.”
He laughed. “It’s just an old story.”
She shook her head and stared at the lake. “No. I saw him. Before, in the forest and then again today. He was in the water when you fell in, waiting.”
“You saw a fish. The lake is full of them.”
“No. It was Christian. Well, it was a River-Man. You should stay away from the lake. It’s not safe.”
“Now, you sound like my mother.” The wind picked up and he shivered. “It’s getting late. I should go home. My clothes are dry enough now. Do you have somewhere to stay?”
She stood and nodded. Yeah, in a tree.
“Where?” he asked, concern clear in his blue eyes.
She looked down at her feet but didn’t respond. She couldn’t tell him. He’d think she was weird.
“You can stay with me.” His face turned red. “Not with me, with me. I mean, I could sneak you into the house or you could stay outside in our shed.”
She shook her head and started to back away. She couldn’t leave with him. He was an Almighty. “I’ve got to go.” She turned and headed toward the forest.
“Wait,” he called out. “Will you be here tomorrow?”
She halted, her ears tilted back to catch his muffled words. The loneliness in his voice called to her. She turned around. He flashed a smile that lit up his face and almost stole her breath. She glanced away. She couldn’t let him see how he made her feel. Clarabelle would never have told Randy to pretend to like her if they hadn’t known she had a crush on him. Jethro seemed kinder than they were, but she didn’t want to take the chance. She looked back at him, composed. “No.”
His face fell. “Oh. Okay.”
She should go, but she didn’t move. Tomorrow would be a long, lonely day if Mirra didn’t come back. “I might be able to stick around for another day. I’m not sure, but maybe.”
“Really?” He grinned again. “I’ll come by just in case. I’ll bring some more cookies. I can tell you about any of the statues. They all have stories.” He glanced around as if not wanting to be overheard and lowered his voice. “Some even say that the spirts of the statues haunt the secret passages that are all over this place.”
“Secret passages?” She couldn’t disguise the interest in her voice.
“Tunnels. I’ve never found any but we could look tomorrow.” His eyes were hopeful.
She was a fool. He was an Almighty. It wasn’t too late. She should end their friendship now but she couldn’t get the words passed her lips. She walked into the brush. Once she was out of sight she extended her claws and jumped onto a tree. She climbed up to the nearest limb and peeked through the leaves to get another glimpse of the beautiful, Almighty boy.
Jethro sat for a moment, staring at the where she’d disappeared. He turned his chair around and wheeled down the path back the way he had come. There was a splash and Christian’s head popped out of the lake. He looked up into the trees, his eyes locking with hers and then he disappeared under the water.
CHAPTER 9
IT WAS ALMOST MIDNIGHT WHEN Troy gathered the supplies he needed and slipped out the door. The new hole needed to be close to Trinity’s house but as far away from his area as possible. He
headed around the back of the guard shack. The Lead Producers only monitored the perimeter of the encampment so it would be easier to enter Hector’s section from the interior of the camp.
The lights were out at Millie’s cabin. Tim and Millie should be in bed, but he’d have to be quiet. House Servants had excellent hearing and night vision. He hid in the shadows near the house as the automated light passed. Several yards away there was a section of the chain-link that was covered by high grass and bushes. It was perfect but he’d have to move fast. There was no cover between the cabin and the fence. He glanced around one last time and darted forward just as the guard shack door opened and two male Producers stepped outside. He froze for a second and then raced back to the cabin.
The two Producers walked toward the fence. One had to be Hector but who was the other one? More important, what were they doing alone at night? He smiled. Perhaps, he’d finally uncovered Hector’s secret. As the two moved farther into the yard, the other Producer’s face was illuminated by one of the fires burning near the perimeter. It was Hector’s son who’d been promoted to Lead Producer a few months back and was learning the job. He sighed. He should have known that Hector wasn’t breaking the rules.
“Make sure to examine every inch of the fence,” said Hector. “Troy reported strange noises the other night and a Lead Producer’s most important responsibility is to make sure his area is secure.”
Shit, shit and more shit. He wanted to slap his hand against his head or maybe, pound it into Hector’s thick skull. He was not going to be able to do this now, maybe, not at all. He would have to find out exactly when and how often Hector inspected the perimeter. He waited for them to go back inside before heading toward his station.
He’d just entered the maze of boxes when he heard the moans. He stopped, grinning. His night was looking up. He quietly placed his tools behind a crate and crept forward, following the sound. He may not be able to take care of the hole tonight, but unless he was mistaken, he’d soon have the information he needed to persuade Bell to support Remy for re-pairing.
The next morning Troy ditched out of work a little early. He and Bell were on the same shift and he wanted to catch the other Lead Producer at work. Last night had been very informative. Clarabelle was not untried. By the activities that he’d witnessed, she hadn’t been for some time. He pressed his hand against his mouth and pinched the smirk off his lips before entering the guard shack.
“Good morning, Bell, Butch,” he said jovially.
Bell stopped talking to the other Lead Producer and glared at him. “Skipping your duties again, I see.”
They were supposed to update their replacement with an hour-by-hour rundown, but it was a tedious waste of time. Nothing ever happened. “On the contrary, I discovered something very interesting last night, but I think we should discuss it in private.”
Bell’s eye’s narrowed. “Very well. I’ll speak with you at my home in...”
“Here would be better. I don’t think you want your mate or daughter overhearing this conversation.” He’d been waiting his lifetime for an opportunity like this and he was going to enjoy making the older Lead Producer sweat.
Bell studied him for a moment and nodded. “Butch, go check on your mate. Hopefully, she’s feeling better.”
Troy turned toward Butch, his face a mask of concern. “What’s wrong with Tulip?” He really couldn’t care less about Butch’s mate but it was never a bad idea to collect good favor.
Butch blushed a bit. “Her first breeding. She’s having a rough time of it.”
“Tina did the same. She makes a special soup. It helped her. If you’d like, I’ll have her make some for Tulip.”
“That would be very kind, thank you.”
“Be back in fifteen minutes,” interrupted Bell. “Nothing Troy has to say can take longer than that.”
His lips twitched. He really couldn’t hide the smirk any longer. “Fifteen minutes should be time enough.”
As soon as Butch left, Bell sat. “What do you want?”
He glanced at the chair across from the other Lead Producer. “May I?”
“If you must.”
He sat. It was a shame he couldn’t drag this out a bit, but fifteen minutes would have to do. “Let’s get right to it, shall we.”
Bell waved his hand in a “get-on-with-it” fashion.
“We both know that Millie is going to be retired this year and I want you to back Remy for re-pairing.”
Bell burst out laughing. “Why would I do that? Remy hasn’t produced a viable Producer in years. No, let me correct that. Ever.”
His muscles tensed. Remy could sire a fine specimen of a Producer if he’d just try. It infuriated him that the others thought so little of Remy because of Tim. “Remy’s past performances don’t matter. What’s important is that you support him.”
Bell leaned forward. “Again. Why would I do that?”
He shifted closer until only inches separated the two. “To save your reputation and your daughter.” A few more minutes and the sweat would start.
For a second, pure hatred flashed in Bell’s eyes. It was almost enough to cause Troy to jerk backward, but he held still and let his own mask drop.
Bell’s eyes widened slightly, but then he leaned back, crossing his legs. “What secret do you think you have on us?”
“I don’t think I have a secret. I know I do. Last night, I witnessed Clarabelle mating with Randy”—he paused and leaned back—“several times in several different positions.”
Bell inhaled sharply, but his face remained impassive. “You and who else?”
His lips twitched. Bell thought he had an escape. “Just me.”
“My daughter was home last night. My mate will swear to it. It will be your word against ours.”
He shook his head, very slowly to let the unspoken message sink in.
“You wouldn’t.” Bell paled.
He grinned. The sweat would start pouring out of the other Lead Producer now. “I would.” No one had ever informed the Almightys about pre-list mating unless a female was pregnant and it was too far away from the reading of the List, but he would. “I’ll call for a purity check.”
“Others besides Clarabelle will suffer.”
He shrugged. Nothing mattered to him except Remy.
“We have always passed the pregnancies off as a youthful indiscretion of only a few. If you do this, the Almightys will...”
“Find out that almost all our youths are partaking in pre-list mating.” He leaned forward again. “And what do you think Benedictine will do to his favorite Lead Producer then? He’ll know that this has been going on for a long, long time and that either you are incompetent or deceitful.” He scratched his chin. “For which offense do you think he’ll hurt you worse?”
“You’d really do this?”
He shrugged again. “Not if you support Remy for re-pairing.”
Bell stood and walked over to the counter and picked up an almost empty pitcher. “I have a little sun tea left from last night. Would you like some?”
The other Lead Producer must be very worried if he was offering to share his tea. Bell was notoriously stingy with his special brew. He considered telling Bell that this false politeness was a waste of time and that he would not negotiate, but he really did want to try the tea. “Yes, thank you.”
Bell emptied the pitcher into two glasses, filling them each about half-full. He poured some more water in the jar and then took a blue bag out of his pocket. “Pardon me, for a moment. I have to get tonight’s batch brewing.” He sprinkled some of the contents from the bag into a thin cloth and then dropped it into the pitcher. He placed the jar where it would get sun and carried the glasses over to the chairs and handed him one.
He sniffed it. “Smells lovely.” He took a small sip. It really was a wonderful blend. “Delicious. What do you use?”
Bell took a drink. “Family secret. It promotes longevity and fertility. Plus, it helps me stay awake. I drink an
entire pitcher every shift.” After several moments Bell continued. “I don’t think I mentioned it, but a few months ago Benedictine told me about an update to the tracking device program.”
He stilled. Everyone was implanted with a tracking device when they were paired but what did that have to do with this conversation?
Bell scratched his head. “It was interesting. The new device would inform the Almightys of every step that we took, not just where we were at that moment”—he leaned forward—“but where we had been for every minute of every day and for how long we were there.”
His hand trembled. That would mean public execution for him and Remy. He couldn’t let Bell see his fear. He rested the glass on his leg.
“Benedictine wanted to know if I thought we should implement it in camp.” Bell leaned back and took another sip of his tea. “I was, of course, concerned. I’m not incompetent. I know what our youngsters are up to.” He narrowed his eyes. “I also know what many of the others in camp are doing.” He leaned forward again. “You are not the only one who collects secrets. I just don’t barter mine so cheaply.”
Sweat trickled down his spine. He had to remain calm and think this through. He did not have a device like that inside of him. It was impossible. “Why are you telling me this? Benedictine didn’t update our tracking program.”
“Why would you assume that?” Bell tipped his head.
Something wasn’t right. Bell was too calm. “I’ve only had surgery once to install the original device.” He smiled. “To my knowledge, no one else has gone in for additional surgeries either.”
“Do you recall the name of that other Almighty? The young one. Benedictine complains about him all the time.” Bell tapped his finger against his lip. “Hugh something-or-other. His mother is Sarah. I’m sure you remember her. She used to come by the camp with extra food and clothes for the needy. A sweet, kind Almighty.” He shook his head. “It doesn’t matter. What is important is that this Hugh didn’t invent a new device, but an update. It is very tiny and it only requires that you swallow it. Somehow, it merges with the original.”