Enera was tolerant of the relationship, even though her son was the product of a rape and an unwanted pregnancy. Cord wasn’t sure how it had come to pass that Scythe, of all people, went out of his way for a rapist, but it seemed to work out well for everyone involved, especially the boy, who had the love and commitment of both of his parents. And, in the few years he had known Ben, he had never seen the man act anything less than civil, to anyone, woman or man. As a matter of fact, if he hadn’t known it, he would never have guessed that Ben was the type.
On the other hand, people did all kinds of crazy things, with no explanation or reason. Murderers loved their dogs. Sweet housewives doted on their children but cheated on their husbands. Thieves bought birthday presents for their kids. Devoted people of the church abused children. Drug dealers mowed their mother’s lawn and took her to the doctor. Teachers punished their students for cheating and then lied on their taxes. Good people perjured themselves in court. Bad people donated to the poor. Saints became sinners and sinners became saints all the time. He thought that there really needed to be one word for people, something that had saint and sinner all in one. That would be the perfect word to use. Or better yet, just get rid of those two words, ‘cause they didn’t mean shit, outside of a book or a movie, or some other piece of mindless trash.
He grabbed the carton of eggs, “No ham? Hamburger? Some kind of meat?”
“No. Wait, I have canned corned beef.”
“That will do. Where is it?”
“In the cabinet next to you.”
Cord cooked up a ton of food, cleaning out Ben’s entire stock of eggs, and then sat down at the couch, laying his plate on the coffee table and digging into his meal. When Ben looked like he was going to ask a question, Cord stopped in the middle of chewing and frowned at him. He didn’t start eating again until Ben gave up and turned on the television, and then he finished it all to the annoying but effective distraction of late night television.
“Okay,” Ben said when Cord picked up the blanket and pillow that he had brought out for him and settled back onto the couch. “I guess I’ll see you tomorrow. I’m working breakfast shift tomorrow, so I’ll be leaving early. I can bring you lunch…”
“I won’t be here when you get back.”
“No?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re not going home?”
Home? That wasn’t his home. “No.”
Ben flinched at the animosity in his tone, but still bravely asked, “So where are you going then?”
“Wherever the hell I want, as soon as I get a little errand taken care of.”
“One of Scythe’s?”
“One of mine,” he said dangerously.
Ben nodded, although it was clear that he wanted to fill in a lot of missing information. He crossed to the kitchen counter and started scribbling on one of the notepads. “You should take my number, and call in every now and then, in case I get a message for you.”
“I won’t be calling.”
“Oh, okay. Well, here’s the number anyway.”
Cord put his feet up on the couch and closed his eyes.
“Good night,” Ben said, and took himself down to his bedroom.
Cord had eaten a huge meal, and it had paid off, because he went right to sleep without another thought.
Chapter 28
Scythe went inside the cell and used the short gap between his hands to trap the throat of a surprised Cord as he rose from the side of his bed. He turned him and pushed him up against the wall.
“Don’t,” Scythe warned, pressing on his throat harder when Cord raised his fists.
He had to know for sure. Was there anything redeemable there?
Scythe’s power easily overwhelmed Cord and he stood once again at the gateway to the man’s mind. He could feel the man’s fear and resentment, and the strong will to fight. But a stronger will urged him to run, until he was safe, and then turn and come around at his enemy’s back…
He didn’t ask to see anything, so none of the memories that floated just beyond where he hovered came forward. Instead, he tried to reconstruct what Lena had done to him years ago, using what he had just done with Beholden as a guide. He stepped back from Cord’s mind a half step and tried to see what Cord was.
He wasn’t very good at it, of course. He couldn’t, like Lena, map out everything in a matter of seconds, but there were things he could see, and they were enough.
He stood in the dust. No, it was a thick layer of ashes. What had made the ashes stood all around him: the burned up husks of old homes that lined the street on both sides. Smoke still rose from the blackened skeletons, and here and there a small fire still burned. It was a horrible, dry place, and Scythe wanted to leave as soon as he had arrived. Instead, he lifted his foot, now covered with a pile of ash, and took a step, and then another, toward the first ruin that caught his attention.
She stood in the doorway, keeping Scythe out with a nasty look. Behind her, in the shadows, lurked a little halfbreed. No one knew what it was but her. Here was where his pain was born, and his fear, too, because his birth had brought pain and fear to her. So pain was what he knew, from the moment he let out his first cry. And fear was how he lived.
Scythe went to the next house, where a warm fire burned. Everyone craved the warmth, Scythe knew that from experience. Here was the warmth that Cord craved. Scythe looked into the fire, and saw what Cord wanted, what he needed. They were the same things that Scythe craved. Recognition, love, belonging, a hand to hold, a life of his own, a reason to live, the strength to run, a destination worth running to.
The next house he passed by. The lights weren’t on, and the faces that sat in the shadows were ones he didn’t need to see up close. It was enough to feel their red eyes crawling along his back. That was a place that others had built, and Cord had accepted as his own. There were many shadows that crouched there: Greed, Regret, Thirst for revenge...but the worst was Selfishness, because he ruled all the others. Selfishness was their father. The house was built of his bones and he had filled it with his nasty offspring, feeding them when they were weak from his own ample flesh. Selfishness sat on the porch and laughed mockingly at Scythe. No, it was his daughter Malice, hunched at his feet, whose shrill laughter would have sent a flock of crows flying.
Scythe turned his back on them and quickly swept the street, looking for an answer to his question. Between two buildings, a young man stood unmoving next to a large trash bin. Scythe walked over to him and looked down.
A girl, maybe seventeen at the oldest, lay with her pretty white face staring upward at them. Her neck was cut in a way he’d seen twice now in memories, and the blood pooled under her and stank up the alley. She had on a cocktail waitress uniform that had been badly mistreated sometime before her death, and maybe after, and the cute little hat was knocked sideways and tangled up in her hair.
Scythe swallowed, because he had seen that face flash in front of him once; it had alternated with Mercy’s face, as well as with that of a woman named Kate. He had thought that Kate had been murdered, but later found that she was alive. It was this woman’s death that Cord had used to cripple his enemies, because this was what crippled him.
He looked at the man who stood next to him, and realized that it wasn’t a man. It was a shell, an empty, hollowed out form in the shape of a man that stood and stared down at her. On impulse, Scythe stepped into the form. He turned until he was lined up perfectly, looking down, just like the man...
And then he died.
He screamed, but in the shell no sound escaped from his mouth. It crushed, it ripped, it tore open his flesh and pulled out what was beneath and set it on fire. Horrible...terrible pain...and loss that didn’t just remind him of the losses he had experienced, it sent him straight back to those days...straight into those moments when what he needed and loved were...not taken, they didn’t leave, didn’t vanish...they were cut, sliced, carved out of him...
Scythe gripped the edges of the
man that was a coffin and yanked his body out. The force of his birth knocked him to the ground, just above the dead woman’s body, right above her face. Scythe turned and looked up at the hollow man and his whole body shook. He wanted to run, and he wanted to take that thing and throw it a thousand miles away, or bury it, or throw it in the ocean. But he knew that none of those things would make it move one inch from where it stood.
He jerked his head away from it and looked at the white face at Cord’s feet. A second strange impulse made him reach out and touch her icy cold cheek. Then, he looked in her eyes. They peeled away for him, and Scythe saw everything that Cord had loved. A friendly smile, a passionate kiss, a playful smack on the butt, a wave hello, a quiet meal, a dance, a laugh, a tear, a long drive, working, watching, embracing, filling the nights with life and the days with love and not worrying about tomorrow…
She had taken his hand and taught him that everything he had learned was next to useless. And he had believed. Then she taught him that she was wrong.
Scythe calculated. She was sixteen or seventeen… Not long ago, Scythe thought, looking at the smoke still rising off charred wood and thinking that Cord was in his early twenties at the oldest. It had been only a handful of years, since this fire, probably less.
Scythe stood and left the alley and looked around one more time. There was nothing else. The whole place was an argument for the death of a corrupted, egotistical, fiendish, lying bastard. The only things that contradicted that judgment in any way were a small, poorly tended fire, and the eyes of a dead girl who needed to be buried.
He decided.
Cord had sucked in a noisy breath and held it unconsciously. When Scythe released his mind, it burst out of him, “Sh...holy sh..” He looked like he was going to throw up.
Scythe interrupted, “You are dead. If not today, then sometime soon. You can choose, if you like, to stay dead, or you can give yourself and the rest of your life to me. What do you choose?”
-----------
It was time to call it a night. Morgan shut down his workstation and pushed his chair back, stretching his back before getting up and heading for the door. He had been covering for the two of them since Jaelyn had left, and it was proving to be more of a challenge than he had predicted. She wouldn’t be back for at least a week, at the soonest, which meant that he was going to have to prioritize and become more efficient if he didn’t want to be sitting in a large pot over a high fire.
He was nearly to his rooms when he realized that he had forgotten to reevaluate the parameters for the search which was scheduled to run automatically that night. He considered leaving it until the next day, but that would cause the work to pile up further. He sighed, turned around and started walking back to the lab.
As he approached the room, he sensed a fluctuation in power, reached out to see who it was, and then missed a step when he saw what the top name on their watch list was up to. He bypassed his station and went straight to the boy’s unit. He said to him, Edillian, do not expend any energy. You are too weak right now.
The boy stubbornly didn’t answer, so Morgan added severely, Edillian, if you don’t obey, I will put you to sleep.
He felt the boy shift uncomfortably before he answered, My time is near.
It may yet be averted. Your mother has gone to retrieve a cure for you. She will be back very soon.
My time is near, and, if I must go, I want to live first. I want to share.
The boy talked about dying so easily that it hurt Morgan to hear it. Then he realized what the power fluctuations must have been. His concern twisted into anxiety, because the longcall took a heavy toll on the user’s power levels. You are not to call. You are too weak to spare the power required. I will share with you.
No. You cannot hear me.
He meant that since Morgan hadn’t heard the longcall himself he wasn’t a good match for the sharing. If he already knew that Morgan couldn’t hear him, then…
How many times have you called? He hoped...he hoped he was wrong. The boy was too weak to perform a strong longcall...wasn’t he?
The boy stubbornly remained silent.
Morgan let him feel his disapproval and his strong will, How many times?
A few…
Morgan pressed.
Some,Morgan. I want someone to share with me. I want to live, before I die.
Sigh. Morgan didn’t have the strength to fight his dying wish. Perhaps the truth would be enough to end this nonsense. Edillian, our home is remote. No one will hear.
The boy sent out another longcall and now that he was close to it, Morgan could see that it was composed primarily of music.
Don’t Edillian! It is dangerous.
It is my right, as one of the People.
Morgan couldn’t believe that the boy knew about the ancient tradition. It was his right, especially if he were about to die, but he hardly thought Jaelyn would agree, not when the risks included the chance of dying earlier than expected.
Mother isn’t here, the boy cheekily commented. Morgan saw then that he had waited until she had left to pull this little stunt.
Fine, I think you could handle one a day, a small one, without overextending yourself. If you do more than that, I will put you to sleep, Edillian. Do you understand me?
Edillian made him wait a minute before answering. I will do as you say.
Good. Now, you’ve already done one today. No more tonight. Please rest. Your mother has put her hopes in you. You must strive to live.
I will.
Morgan went back to his chair, pulled up and modified his search of the Kin and Human governmental agencies. While it was resetting, he checked Edillian’s vital signs. His activities had affected his levels, but not dramatically. It was not life threatening yet, but he would have to be careful and very watchful. He didn’t want to lose Edillian while Jaelyn was away.
On his way back to his room, he wondered what he would do if someone actually responded to the boy’s call.
-----------
Cord stood at the fourth level of the rickety metal stairs that zigzagged up the side of the cheap apartment building and watched the car pull into a space across the street. A man got out of the car, grabbed a large package from the back seat and crossed the busy boulevard without looking. After barely escaping a collision with a small economy car that was speeding by, he started climbing up the stairs, each step clanging loudly against the side of the building and its neighbor across the way before running down the street. When he got to the third level, he put down his package and hunted for keys, slapping every single pocket of his jeans before finding them in his jacket.
Cord was amazed that he had made it as far as he had. He tilted his head so that he could peer between the rungs at his feet. Down on the landing below him, lying on the cold metal behind a man who was fumbling at the lock, was a loosely bundled up baby boy. The baby hadn’t cried, even though it had been plopped carelessly on the ground. Cord thought that it had to be unusual to find a baby that didn’t cry. What was even stranger was that the boy was staring straight back at him.
He knew that babies were nearsighted, so there was no way he could see Cord leaning up against the building in the shadows ten feet above him. Even the guard from Chromatic Technologies didn’t see him, and he worked in security. Still, there he was, staring right up at him from way down there. The baby blinked and then smiled, and the world stopped.
Crinkled eyes and a big, open mouthed, sloppy smile. Little hands that waved suddenly in excitement. Chubby legs that kicked out twice. Cord was stuck...or held...something...until his view was obscured by the back of the man as he bent over and scooped up the child.
That was weird.
When he had collected himself, he pushed off the wall and started down the stairs. At the third floor, he stopped and knocked on the door. The man who wasn’t a guard anymore opened the door and Cord said, “Hello, Dan.”
“Hello, can I help you?” Dan frowned and shook his head, “Do..
.don’t I know you?”
“No. I’m going to go ahead and take that baby off your hands.”
“Jonah? He’s my son.”
“No he’s not,” Cord said, capturing his mind. He pushed the man back into the apartment and began removing all memory of his visit to the orphanage and the late night abduction. He erased the belief that an old girlfriend had abandoned their child as well as the directive to bring him to the bordertown that he had planted in the man's mind just before he left Chromatic Technologies. Then he gave him the memory of a short but pleasant vacation and the strong desire to drive home immediately. He pulled the keys out of Dan's pocket to save time, put them in his hand, and sent him on his way with a light shove out the door.
Cord went around and collected the baby items in the poorly kept apartment and threw them into a bag. Then he scavenged for food, sat down and had a quick meal. While he ate, his eyes wandered the apartment, skipping over a small bundle that was sitting perilously on the couch. He had to give it his attention, though, when it started to wiggle.
He got up and went over to it. As he got closer, the bundle stopped moving. By the time he was standing over it, baby Jonah was staring at him again. Cord sat down on his knees and put his hand on the center of the bundle, right over the baby’s chest. It was warm under his palm.
“Are you staring at me?” Cord asked, even though it was clear that he was. “Well don’t get too used to it. I’m just a delivery boy. Soon you’ll have your momma back again.”
That should please him.
Cord had decided, actually before they left the orphanage, that he’d be back. His intentions going in were to leave Jonah there, but his opinion had changed before the tour was done, despite what he had told Mercy. Then he’d taken the opportunity to have Dan help him out with the details when it became obvious they had to leave town in a hurry.
An orphanage was no place for a child if there was a good home somewhere for him, and Cord knew that Mercy would give him that. Hell, that was the understatement of the century.
Halfblood Legacy Page 39