Halfblood Legacy

by Rheaume, Laura

  She had seen many times how other people reacted when they saw the two sides of Scythe’s heritage reflected in his face. Unlike Cord, who looked completely Human, half of Scythe’s features were Kin and the other half were Human. It didn’t matter which group a person belonged to, Human or Kin, when they looked at him, half of him was always disturbingly deformed.

  She had never once felt that way. She had always thought that his features went very nicely together; from the beginning, she had loved to frame his face with her hands or rub her skin along his strong cheekbones. So, Mercy believed that it was what his face represented, the stigma of the halfblood, that made people respond the way they did, and not so much the form of his face.

  “His skin is rare among the Kin. His cousin has it, and she’s considered beautiful.” That shade of gray which Mercy had only seen on Scythe, reminded her of the shadows that carved out the moon, taking an otherwise blank, cold surface and making it into something you wanted to stare at or dream about. It was one of the mysterious and unique things she loved about him. Like Scythe himself, it was special, one of a kind, a treasure that she wanted to horde all to herself.

  “It’s like looking at a train wreck, which makes you two the perfect couple.”

  She scowled at him halfheartedly, secretly appreciating both the joke and his last words. He was the only one who liked to needle both her and Scythe by referring to them as boyfriend and girlfriend. Everyone else left them alone, except for Anora, who treated them like they were already married and proudly took credit for it when she had a chance. Thinking about it now, in light of knowing him better, she wondered for the first time if he hadn't been pestering them. At that moment, he wasn’t trying to start a fight with her, which is what she was used to assuming. He had said it as if he accepted it as a basic truth, and that made her wonder if she had imagined it all those other times, or if the bitterness that she used to hear in his tone was now absent.

  Soft, smooth pillow. Soft hair on his cheek. Wet tears on both, but not from regret. Thankful. He was so thankful that it was finally over. His was the only power that didn’t have to be pulled away. He released himself and flew to her. He was thankful, and then he was nothing.

  Cord was fidgeting, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. They were almost there, so she decided to make it easy for him. “I think a little trip is a good idea, just so you know. I’ll tell them, if you want.”

  His fingers stopped, and he sent her a cross look. “Are you still going on about that vision?”

  “No. I’m pretty sure that one was a dud. I’m talking about what I think you want.”

  His jaw tightened up and he didn’t talk for a minute. Then, he said gruffly, “It won’t be just a little trip.”

  She shrugged. “You are...not like you were. I don’t think you need to be kept here any more, do you?”

  “I’m not like I was? How the hell do you know?” He just loved to be mad at her.

  She didn’t respond the way he wanted her to, instead she smiled. After all, she’d been hovering over his well for three days. She knew him much better than she had before, when she thought she knew him. She couldn’t read his thoughts, or anything like that. It wasn’t like her usual way of connecting with her ribbons. This was what one of her tiny lines, the ones that she couldn’t control but at least was aware of now, showed her; these were the energy strings that fed her visions. So small, so light, he didn’t even know it was there. She couldn’t read him, but she could feel him and, every now and then, see where he was headed, where he’d been, what he was, at that moment.

  Not a nice person. Not a particularly easy person to be. Selfish, mostly. Often ruthless. Impatient. Passionate. A person who could see things that she couldn’t, or wouldn’t. A person who knew that choosing what to see was a good way of staying sane sometimes. Like herself, a person haunted by his actions. What had changed in Cord was that now he was listening to those ghosts and choosing a different way to live when he could.

  That was all anyone could ask. It was all Mercy was asking of herself, for now.

  Then, unexpectedly, her power showed her something else, something new. She knew what Cord was yearning for. He wasn’t even conscious of it yet, at least not clearly.

  Knowing how much he hated her visions, she would never have reacted the way she did, but it was such a surprise...

  Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open slightly, “Oh.”

  Her reaction was a big mistake, because he immediately caught on fire. “What? Damn it, Mercy, you are such a bitch! What are you doing? You think your stupid visions are something I want to hear about? I’m so sick of you, and your asinine…” He shook his head and let his voice die out. He was as mad as she had seen him in a long time.

  “I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to.” She reached out and touched his shoulder, but he shook her off, casting her a furious look. “It’s not what you think…”

  “Don’t touch me, and don’t try to read me.”

  “I didn’t have a vision about you, I swear.” But, it was like a vision, her ability...

  “Liar. I can hear your lie. Don’t...just don’t talk to me. You always make me so damn mad.”

  She closed her eyes and tried to breathe slowly. Because of the last few seconds, because of her, his self had moved, and she could see where it was going. Why had she used the word “kept” before?

  “I’m sorry. Please, don’t go.”

  He didn’t answer. He pulled the car into the long driveway that ended at the house where they lived. Where she lived. He didn’t live there any more, because of her, because she had said, “Oh.”

  She tried again to move him, to change the direction she saw him heading in. “I want you to stay with us, Cord. I do. You have a home here, if you want it.”

  “Shut up.” He stared straight forward at the house that was getting closer.

  “Scythe...he would want you to stay, too. Not just because of your promise...”

  “That doesn’t mean anything to me.”

  “...but because you are like a brother to him.” Her eyes widened at his instant, furious reaction. He hated that she had said that, hated that she had said, “brother.”

  Snap.

  She felt it: a line being clipped with a pair of scissors. He was already gone.

  “Shut the fuck up, Mercy or I will...I swear...I’ll hit you.”

  She didn’t have to be Kin to know that he was telling the stark truth. There was a time when he would have had no problem slapping her, but that was long ago. She knew he would feel bad if he did it now, maybe not right away, but definitely later, so she forced herself to be quiet.

  In the last moments before they arrived, the car was filled with only his seething breaths and the word that had set him over the edge: brother.

  He stopped the car, pulled on the break so hard that it screeched, and popped the trunk. He flipped open the door and stormed to the rear. She got out on the other side, pulling what she needed out of the back seat. He quickly unloaded the computer and the rest of her things onto the ground.

  “Please stay. Give me a chance to explain,” she pleaded when she was done. When he didn’t answer, she said, “At least get some food before you go and some money. Your stuff…”

  He slammed the trunk. “There is nothing here I need or want.” Lies, on both accounts. He headed to the driver’s side.

  She stepped in front of him, putting her hand on his chest very lightly. “Wait, at least tell me where we can find you.”

  He didn’t barge past her, which she was grateful for, but instead said firmly, “Mercy, move.” Then he looked up.

  Her father, who had already sent one of his ribbons out to touch her and knew a little of what had happened, was walking toward them from the house. Faith was right behind him, carrying one of Mercy’s cousins.

  Ian said, “Cord. You need to stay here. When Scythe comes back, we can discuss a short trip.”

  Cord, who was used to the Young
habit of talking among themselves, wasn’t shocked that Ian already knew the situation. He wasn’t surprised but it did bother him, because that was his gut reaction to things he envied. Mercy felt terrible, because she had botched everything so badly and she couldn’t seem to make it right. On top of that, she already knew from her father that Scythe wasn’t back like she had foolishly hoped.

  “No. No discussions, Ian. I’ve brought you your little daughter and now I’m out.” He put his hands on Mercy’s shoulders and she let him move her out of the way.

  Mercy felt Ian’s power increase at the same moment that Lena came running around the side of the house. Her aunt was surrounded with a heavy aura of energy, too.

  Her father said firmly, “You are not going anywhere, Cord.”

  Cord’s hand was on the top of the door. He was no match for them, but he pulled his shield around himself anyway. He was going to fight.

  She didn’t want that. She didn’t want them fighting...fighting that would escalate from holding to striking to hurting. Hurting would stain memories...stained memories that would build up brick walls between them in the future...walls that were so hard to break down. Even if you broke them down, the bricks didn’t just disappear. They lay around you, broken, jagged reminders at your feet that you sometimes stepped on...that you sometimes cut your feet on...

  She knew what to do.

  Break the walls down now, Mercy, before they are built.

  “No, Dad.” Mercy said, walking past Cord and then stopping halfway between her dad and the car. “Let him go.”

  “Mercy, come over here.” He kept his eyes on Cord and started to weave three strong ropes of power. He would use them to grab Cord and hold him down...

  “No.” She raised her power and made a huge half dome of energy that completely shielded the car from her parents. Shields had been her specialty until recently, and no one present had the ability to get through them if she didn’t want them to, even if they worked at it together. Because of her new strength, she still had power and focus to send her own ropes at them. They were ready to be used at any time, but she wouldn’t need them. She knew her family.

  She heard the door behind her close, and the car start to turn around in the driveway. Her parents and Aunt were staring at her, but, just as she thought, they did nothing to stop him or interfere with her position.

  “Mercy?” Her aunt said, finally stepping forward when the car was far enough away that Mercy dropped her shield.

  “Wait. I’ll explain in a minute,” Mercy said. She disconnected from her parents and sent her power racing after him in a thin, reinforced ribbon.

  He tried to keep her out, but, for the first time in a long while, she didn’t respect his choice. She forced her way past his defenses and joined with his mind.

  What the hell? He was still mad, but there was confusion mixed in with it now.

  Cord, she sent, Please come back when you are ready. You are a member of this family...

  Bullshit.

  She showed him that she wasn’t lying, and then she let him go.

  -----------

  Scythe lay on the bed listening, but the only thing he heard was the soft buzzing from the stiff suit that he had yet to have removed since he had woken up there. It wasn’t smelling very nice. He had tried to wash it in the little sink next to the toilet, but as soon as they saw him trying to take it off, they had panicked. Then things had gone badly, despite the fact that he swore he had no intentions of removing it to escape or even trying to escape.

  A quick interrogation convinced the night security and the technician on duty that he wasn’t lying, and after he pointed out (he thought unnecessarily) that he was still chained to the wall, they had backed down on the condition that the suit did not come off. He was very grateful that he had been able to convince them in the end, so that no one was hurt, and so that his legs were not “broken in three places”. He went back to being on his best behavior because he was going to need his legs soon.

  It was true that he would not remove it to escape. It was also true that he would not try to escape. He would be leaving, and he didn’t need to remove the hated suit, or come up with some elaborate escape plan to do it. They were the ones that were handing him the keys and practically shoving him out the door. He just wasn’t ready to go yet. Some of his hosts needed to be taught a lesson in hospitality first.

  He closed his eyes and tried to sleep, which usually wasn’t a problem. He was expending so much power in such a complex way that he was worn out by the time dinner arrived and was asleep shortly after, even when they didn’t drug him.

  Over the last several nights, though, he had been hearing something. Actually, he had heard it before, but in the morning had dismissed it as a dream. After another night, he was sure it wasn’t a dream but suspected that it was a delusion he was experiencing as a result of his imprisonment. He feared that he was hallucinating because the entire song had played in his head.

  Music was something you heard with your ears. You could remember what it sounded like, if you were talented that way, but it wasn’t something that existed only in your head.

  That belief, he discovered, was a lie. The song he was hearing at night was real. It felt real in the corner of his mind that knew when someone with power walked by. That place hadn’t sensed anything for over a month, so it was very responsive, or excited, when the music started playing. Or, maybe it was just thrilled by the music, because it was beautiful.

  It sang to him with gentle notes that soothed his aching spirit. He was so grateful for that nighttime visitor, because the fight wore him down during the day, and left him sore inside. His work smeared a thick, sticky goo all over him that stuck to his fingers when he tried to wipe it off, and “stunk to high heaven,” as Lena would say. That was the cost of using his gift to manipulate people, now that he knew it was an obscenity; doing it to them polluted him, even when some of those people were no better than Tiburon, and a few were worse. It didn’t matter if they were like him or like Mercy, the crime soiled Scythe just the same.

  Of course, the minds of people like Tiburon and his enemies, who were similar enough on the inside to be members of the man’s okin, always left him dirtier than he was before going in. That had not changed in all the years he’d been using his power, but he’d figured out how to deal with that nastier side of himself; he knew now how to keep it in check so that it didn’t influence him like it used to.

  The music just made it easier; it helped him cleanse himself and alleviated some of his self disgust, so that by morning he was ready to face it all again.

  When enough time had passed to convince him that it wasn’t going to appear that night, he sighed and gave up on it. He started the deep breathing and light meditation that helped him relax and within minutes he was asleep.

  In the dead of night, it drifted into the room. Alerted to the presence of power, he awoke, his eyes opening and quickly scanning the room out of habit. Then his body eased down into the mattress and he listened.

  It didn’t occur to him to be wary of the presence of a strange power, because there was nothing but innocent, pure beauty in it. It didn’t want to hurt him or use him. It didn’t press on him, or invade him. It just wanted to comfort him.

  If anything, he wanted to reach out and gather it up.

  -----------

  When the door opened, Cord didn’t bother with a greeting or an explanation. He used his duffel to push the man in front of him back into the small apartment and walked in.

  “Cord,” Ben exclaimed, caught completely by surprise. “What are you doing here? I thought you were at school with…”

  “School’s out. Mind if I shower?”

  “Uh, no. Go ahead.”

  “And,” Cord turned and stared at him, “No calling them, or I’ll make you pee whenever you hear your name.”

  Ben swallowed and shook his head, “No calling.”

  “Good. And, don’t worry, I’m only here for the night.”
He went into the bathroom and shut the door.

  “It’s no problem. You’re welcome to stay,” Ben called through the door and moved away.

  “Everyone’s inviting me to stay today,” Cord muttered, flipping on the hot water and stripping off the clothes he’d been wearing for too many days to count. He cracked the door and shouted, “Hey. You got any pants size thirty-two?”

  “Maybe thirty. I’ll get them.”

  “Something old you don’t want back.” Size thirty was gonna be tight, but it was way better than what he had, which could probably crawl into the trashcan by itself.

  “Just a minute.”

  Hmm. Well no point in being shy now, “And some underwear too.” That was really going to improve his mood. He hated being dirty.

  Cord stayed in the shower until the hot water ran out and then took his time shaving. He focused on every detail of the task, so that his mind didn’t have a chance to wander. Then he dressed in pants that surprisingly were not too tight, which meant that he had lost some weight in the last few weeks.

  Well, he knew the cure for that.

  Feeling a hell of a lot better, he threw everything that he was keeping, some of which hadn’t been there before, back in his duffle and went to look for some food.

  Ben watched him from the couch. “So…?”

  “Mind if I eat?” Cord asked in the way that wasn’t asking.

  “No. Go ahead.”

  What was that hint of amusement doing in Ben’s tone? Cord opened the refrigerator and then blinked. It was nearly empty. Asshole. “Don’t you cook?”

  “Sometimes. I work at a restaurant and I can eat for free, so why bother, since I’m the only one here?”

  Ben lived alone and worked at a restaurant because it allowed him to be near his son, who was one of the halfbloods that lived at the winery. Enera, the mother of Ben’s child, had chosen to join the group of women who moved there. With her permission and approval, Scythe had contacted Ben shortly afterwards, knowing that the man wanted to be involved with his son’s life. So Ben worked as their contact in the nearest Human settlement, providing them with many of the supplies they needed and occasionally helping Scythe out with other errands. He visited his son whenever he had the chance, which was several times a week.