Halfblood Legacy

by Rheaume, Laura

  Scythe gripped the steering wheel. There was nowhere to go. He started sliding down in the seat. His bottom slid off the seat and his back arched. They were peering through the side windows at him and yelling things that he couldn’t understand and pointing at the handle. He tore his eyes away from their angry faces. Any minute that guy he saw get out of the truck would be back with...the…

  He was staring blankly up at the ceiling, his head resting on the seat and his hands still on the steering wheel when the shapes in front of him began to come into focus. There, hanging just above him was the sun visor, flipped back against the ceiling. Peeking out right over the corner of the visor was a small metal circle. He blinked and saw it clearly.

  The key.

  He sprung up from the floor, pulled down the visor and snatched the key ring onto which his freedom was clipped. He jammed it in the slot behind the wheel and turned. The engine roared, and many of those standing around laughing traded in smiles for open mouthed Oh's of surprise or serious shouts. He could barely reach the pedals, but that didn’t stop him from testing them out. Ok, that one was definitely the gas. A bunch of the Humans jumped back from the truck when he floored it; it was louder than any car or bus he had ridden in. That meant that this one was the break. But, what was the other one for? He pushed it, and it didn’t make any difference that he could see. There was another, shorter pedal down there too, that was already pushed all the way to the floor. He had no idea what that one was for either, but when he pressed on it, it sprung up. He pressed it again and it stayed down. Once more and he left it up.

  He wasn’t getting anywhere. Staring down at the mess of pedals and levers around him, he had a terrible feeling he was never going to be able to drive the thing. He could feel his face burning red and the sweat that had begun to chill his skin was warm again. On his right, someone was banging on the window, trying to break in. He had about three seconds, he guessed.

  He yanked on the long stick to his right, trying to shove it forward or backward or in any direction. The engine screeched terribly each time he did it. He gave the car more gas, but that didn’t help. The break wasn’t doing anything, so he tried the third pedal. He pumped it and moved the stick, until finally the car jumped forward, scattering the crowd in front of the truck. He flew back in the seat but then was jolted forward almost immediately. The truck hopped, jerked and then took another huge leap forward before the engine suddenly barked in exasperation and with a huff threw itself down in the dust.

  After the flash, it became very peaceful. Falling...

  It was nice to have a little quiet for a change, he thought blearily. It was just there for a quick visit, though. The biting pain in his head broke through the fog he wandered in at the same time that the window was smashed open on his right by a long, curved piece of metal. He scooted back against his door when the hand reached in and carefully avoided the sharp, cut glass to unlocked the door. Then they were on him.

  They pulled him out of the cab and before he knew it, he was standing in front of Mr. Twitch and his fat friend. The older man said something short and signaled with his hand abruptly, and Scythe was pulled away from the camp toward a second group of trucks that was separate from the first. Unlike the others, these were lined up on the road and ready to move out.

  “Coreler Jekelrez. Our dorantke are kelrne. The boy will jil with doreles wropien.”

  They all turned around to face the man who had spoken loudly and strode forward determinedly until he was right in front of them. He was old, too; he might have been the same age as the fat man, but it was hard to tell, since Scythe wasn’t really sure what old Humans looked like. He’d only seen them in pictures.

  The reactions of those nearby told Scythe that the new arrival was someone in charge, maybe the commander; he blatantly ignored the immediate protests of the other men and turned to Scythe. He bent down until he was right in front of Scythe’s face.

  Scythe ground his teeth and considered taking advantage of the opportunity to bash the man’s nose with his forehead, since he was well within range, but he decided against it. It wouldn’t get his arms free, or take the hands off his shoulders. It would probably make things a lot worse. Besides, his head was already bleeding right at the eyebrow from hitting the steering wheel.

  Then the man spoke words that threw a net over Scythe.

  “Mother.” He pointed to Scythe. “Your mother is orcher.”

  Scythe became very still and attentive. His mother was there?

  The man nodded, obviously relieved. He said slowly, “You need to come with me to your mother.”

  Scythe nodded, and said, “I will come.” Where was she? Why didn’t she come out to get him?

  “Good.” He stood up and signaled for the soldiers to release Scythe, which they did only after glancing at their captain.

  They were not the only ones who looked like they thought he was about to take off again, even when he stood there as calm as he could make himself. The soldiers around him stayed very close and watched him distrustfully, which he thought was strange since he had already said he would go with the commander. Then he remembered that they were Humans. Of course they thought he lied.

  “He was sorkep teonminet with my wropien.” The stout Jekelrez said, barely controlling his temper. The lack of reaction from the man across from him seemed to make him even angrier; his face was flushed and his whole body was somehow both stiff and full of springy energy.

  “That’s not worque to memmik, Coreler Jekelrez.” The commander turned without another word and signaled for Scythe to go in front of him.

  They passed by an older Scythe who stood surveying the convoy that was preparing to move out. His eyes roamed over the long, windowless trucks and his lips tightened into a firm, straight line. He memorized every detail of the vehicles and of the soldiers who were walking towards them. Then he turned and followed his younger self.

  The crowd parted and Scythe did his best to ignore the bizarre mixture of animosity and genuine high-spirited cheer. Instead, he watched for any suspicious movement from the people around him. He didn’t trust any of them, even the ones who smiled and made gestures that made no sense to him, but appeared to be congratulatory.

  When they arrived at a tent across the camp from the one he had escaped from, Scythe finally picked out his mother’s scent from among the many other odors that filled the area. He stepped forward, not caring that it was rude to enter without being invited, and went inside.

  His eyes adjusted quickly to the low light and he went straight to his mother’s side. She was lying on a strange kind of bed, one that had metal railings on the side. There were all kinds of annoying machines beeping and whirring around them, and the loudest had cords that were attached to her.

  “Mother,” Scythe said, laying his arm on hers and then shaking it a bit when she didn’t respond. “Momma!” He looked at the man who was monitoring one of the machines on the other side of the bed.

  “She’s not yanin to be lorniels right quires, lidik.”

  He was sick of their stupid language that didn’t make any sense! What was wrong with her? He had just seen her...he guessed it was yesterday...and she was fine then. What had they done to her? He started yelling at them, demanding what had happened, but in his fury he could only manage to speak in Kin. They stared at him as if he were some kind of strange animal from the zoo.

  When the nurse ignored him and lifted up a syringe to give her a shot, and Scythe reached over and batted it away.

  “What is that?” he demanded in Kin, and then in Human.

  “Don’t bren, lidik. It’s nivilisen.” The nurse spoke to the commander who was waiting by the entrance, gesturing at Scythe and at his mother.

  The commander, who flinched slightly when he looked at Scythe’s mother, tried to explain the situation, speaking each word carefully so that Scythe could understand. Finally, he made himself understood. If Scythe didn’t stop interfering, he was going to be put in a separate tent.r />
  Scythe grabbed on to the cold railing and nodded. He was going to stay right by her and wait for her to gain consciousness. It was important to him that she have someone she knew by her side when she woke up.

  -----------

  [connecting to dropbox.tra8090.383229]

  [host id: 864019]: mom_love you_brother has gone hiking on his own but i think its okay_had an episode about it_had a bunch of them_i might need to come home_school is good otherwise<

  Why had this one even been sent up? She checked the referring secondary screener. Hmph. A new guy. She’d have to swing by and give him a little talking to.

  This one looked like a big waste of her time, but now that it was referred, she had to at least go through the motions. Standard procedure was to check the addresses, so Iris plugged them in.

  [host id: 864019]: Student terminal: Wassell University. ID: P. P. Card #32758320.

  [dropbox.tra8090.383229]: Post office terminal: TRA8090. Id: Cargue 465553

  Nothing stood out to her, except for the prepaid card. Typically people used their personal accounts to send messages, especially ones to their mothers. Why had this person chosen to go to the effort of getting a prepaid? A prepaid would get the job done, but without an ID attached to the message, so it was the type of thing the Scere looked for when screening for suspicious activity. However, plenty of decent people went about their days used prepaids, so it was not considered a high level flag.

  It was early in the day, and she was avoiding the monthly report that promised to be a soul crushing bore, so she decided to research further.

  P. Card #32758320 Location: Wassell University Bookstore, ID: 78234423. Purchase: cash. Ticket #78554 Time: 10:34A Cashier: Ni22

  Hmm. The person had paid cash, which was not any kind of crime, but then, this was the second untraceable action. She checked the ticket.

  Ticket #78554 Location: Wassell University Bookstore, ID: 78234423. Purchase: cash. ID: (none) Time: 10:34A Cashier: Ni22. Items purchased: (1) P. P. Card #3275830. Total: $9.48.

  Well, it looked like her guy hadn’t bought anything else in the bookstore that day. Even a notebook or a pencil would have made it look more legitimate. On the other hand, maybe he had. She requested the information on tickets #78553 and #78555, just to be sure. If there wasn’t anything there, she was going to file the case and move on.

  Ticket #78553 Location: Wassell University Bookstore, ID: 78234423. Purchase: student loan. ID: GFeling 556301 Time: 10:20A Cashier: Ni22. Items purchased: (1) Text #G7810T (2) Shirt #Y9008G, #Y9802Y, (3) Pencil #U5021A (2) Scantron #B2002B. Total: $87.09.

  Ticket #78555 Location: Wassell University Bookstore, ID: 78234423. Purchase: cash. ID: KHorn 640101 Time: 10:37A Cashier: Ni22. Items returned: (3) Text #S3001T, #S3022T, #W5537W (2) Scantron #B2002B. Total: $-45.09.

  The second one caught her attention, and not just because of the time and the fact it was another cash transaction. Why was KHorn returning books and scantrons at this time of the year? The finals were approaching in less than two months. Could this person be her “I might need to come home” prepaid card? Iris decided to check KHorn’s schedule.

  Top grades, average attendance, good reports from teachers: not the type of student that just took off in the middle of the semester. The books returned matched her courses. Hmm. The same day she dropped two classes she was getting high marks in.

  Checking KHorn.

  While it ran, she leaned back and took a drink of her sweetened hot tea, making sure to hold it up so that the cup blocked her view of the stack of files for the monthly report. When the information began scrolling, she started reading and then sat up straight.

  Interesting.

  Most of the page-long report was in order, with the exception of two little things at the top:

  Karin Horn. Age 21. Residence: Wassell University Student Housing 23G. Occupation: Student. Mother: Delphinia Horn, deceased. Father: Irwin Horn, deceased. Children: none. Siblings: Charlotte Horn, deceased.

  There wasn’t anything really substantial...just a lot of little suspicious pieces...Still, it wouldn’t hurt to check out this Karin Horn. Iris pulled up her field agent list to see who she had working in the area of Wassell University.

  -----------

  Cord leaned back against the couch and pulled the woman closer to him. She smelled heavily of perfume and alcohol, mostly that, but also cigarettes, her lunch, the permanent pen she had used to blacken the scuff marks on her shiny jacket. Overall, it was nauseating; but hey, she was soft and willing, which was all he was really looking for. He took another drink of the cheap house beer and watched the floor show. Not much different, really, than what he had seen before; even the Kin cities had places fairly similar, if harder to find.

  What surprised him was the number of them. Any bordertown would have had one or maybe two smaller joints like this. Here, there were blocks and blocks of them to choose from. He could check out one a night and still not be done in three weeks, and that was just in the first part of town he had checked.

  Hot chicks dancing, music filling his head, beer keeping him from thinking too much and a warm woman to go to bed with. What else could he ask for? All he needed was the money to keep it up, and since he had never had trouble getting money, he didn’t have to worry about that, either.

  “Baby? How long we gonna hang out here?” She snuggled up against him.

  “A bit more, then we’ll go,” he said.

  “Ok. I’m gonna make a call, real quick.”

  She moved over to the edge of the couch, where the music would have easily kept any Human from listening in on her conversation. He heard it without a problem.

  “Heya, Jimmy, I’m gonna be late tonight, okay? So can you put your brother to bed for me? Yeah, I know honey, just do it for momma, will you? What did you eat for dinner? Alright, ten minutes of reading before bed; that’s what your teacher said, so don’t forget. G' night, sweetie.”

  Just to see, he asked, “That your husband?”

  “No, I told you, I’m not married, sugar, unless you’re offering?”

  He laughed appropriately, and then lifted his eyebrow at her, waiting.

  “Just a family call, nothing to interrupt our good time.”

  He nodded, “Good.” He kissed her on the neck, his attention already back on the stage.

  -----------

  Heron sat in his usual corner of the atrium and enjoyed the quiet, cool night. His practice was very busy and he worked long hours, many more than his new wife was happy with. So, as soon as he returned home after a long, noisy day, he got to have what seemed like a longer, noisier night.

  His aunt assured him it would get better by the second year, by which time she predicted they would have a baby to distract his wife. He hoped she was right. Not that he regretted his marriage. He didn’t. Melode was a fine woman: superbly bred, intelligent and extremely beautiful. Her family was also well connected, which his uncle assured him was of the utmost importance. He was content with the arrangement because he trusted their judgment.

  For a long time, they had accused him of not honoring their significant efforts to find him a wife because he had delayed so long in choosing. All his friends and cousins near his age were already working on their second child. He was the last to marry, which had made his aunts, uncles and mother very upset. His father, of course, wisely stayed out of it.

  He didn’t know why he had had no stomach for the process, or any desire for the women. There was nothing at all wrong with them. His family had chosen each one carefully, so he knew they were good matches. He just...wasn’t interested. Each one seemed so bland, so proper; after a while they all seemed to blur together, as if every girl was cut off the end of a long line of folded identical paper dolls. So, for no reason he could discern, he stalled, put off meeting them, delayed; and, one after another, the women found other, more eager men to spend their time with. Finally, a picture of Melode had shown up on his desk with a threatening note from his mother. />
  You will see her or you will see me in my study.

  He had looked over her biography and family history and then stared at her picture. There was no clear reason why she shouldn’t have suited him, so he agreed to the meeting. Soon they were engaged and then married, to nearly everyone’s contentment.

  He had requested the rooms adjacent to the atrium for himself and his wife, and his mother, who was ecstatic to have him even saying the word wife, had joyfully agreed. Now he spent time there nightly, enjoying his favorite place for just a short while, maybe fifteen minutes. Any longer would have been considered odd.

  “Melode, there is no need for you to hesitate. Please, always join me when I am here,” he said when he noticed her scent as well as the small sounds she made as she hovered by the glass doors.

  “My Heart,” she said chidingly, and he heard her light step approaching from behind, “I wasn’t raised to barge in on someone. Besides, I know you value your time in this beautiful place. I won’t encroach on your privacy.” She lay a small tray carrying a warm mug down on the table in front of him and leaned over to give him a quick kiss. Her brown, thick hair brushed his skin and tickled his nose.

  “You do not encroach. You enrich. Please, sit with me.” He waved at the chair across from him.

  “No. I’m going to get ready for bed. I think I’ll take a bath first. If you like, you could join me when you finish here.” She grinned invitingly.

  Heron smiled back, “I will, Melode.”

  “Good.” She gave him another kiss and left the atrium, closing the doors behind her.

  Heron sighed, closed his eyes and let his head rest against the high backed chair.

  “That is a nice looking woman,” a voice cooler than the night said from the shadows.

  He jumped, grabbing on to the arms of his seat, and looked to where gray emerged from black.