Bloodcrier: The Complete Two-Book Series

by Richard Denoncourt

“I’m listening.”

  “The Noogenesis Project. I have questions about the babies who survived, who their parents were, DNA results, and other details like that.”

  “About Michael,” Sam said, “but not just him?”

  “No, not just him. The others, the ones I smuggled out and brought with me. Charlotte and her sister, Arielle Casmas, whom you haven’t met.”

  “I doubt they’ll be listed by those names,” Sam said “How should I…”

  “T2-27 and T2-34.”

  Sam whistled through his teeth. Blake could hear the scratching of a writing utensil on paper.

  When Sam spoke again, his voice was grave. “They were the only ones who survived apart from Michael?”

  “As far as I know.”

  “That’s a lot of dead children.”

  “That’s why the living ones are so special,” Blake said.

  They were silent for a moment. Outside, the wind rustled the trees, and Blake listened. It was a whisper that filled the world, hinting at a lifetime of secrets he would never know. The realization of how blind he’d been pained him.

  “I can get you reports,” Sam said, “but tracking down a scientist or geneticist you can interview is highly unlikely. Leaving the project was never an option. Those who escaped are in hiding, as I’m sure you understand.”

  “Reports are fine. I need to know about fathers—if anyone was impregnating the concubines. Anyone…high up.”

  “You got it.”

  Once they hung up, Blake searched for a cigarette. A powerful craving had come over him. He searched like a fiend until he found an old pack, and when the first puff of smoke slid down his throat, he almost fell to the ground in ecstasy.

  Michael’s anti-smoking command had failed after all.

  “I won’t go anywhere without Arielle,” Michael said. His nose wrinkled as he sniffed the air of the office. “Have you been smoking?”

  “That’s none of your business,” Blake said. “They’re extremely strict about who gets into the NDR. And you aren’t even married.”

  “Then we’ll get married. We love each other.”

  “Take it easy,” Blake said. “No one’s kicking you out.”

  “Not yet,” another voice said.

  Dominic strolled into Midas Ford’s new office on the second floor of the town hall, where John Meacham had once presided as mayor. Midas had gotten rid of the desk, and he’d replaced it with a conference table. Dominic refused to sit.

  “If he goes to the NDR, I go with him. You know he can’t just walk in there alone.”

  “I appreciate it, Dom,” Michael said.

  “What does Reggie think of you leaving?” Midas asked Dominic.

  “He’s coming with us. Forgot to mention that.”

  “Hell,” Blake said. “We’ll all go. One big, happy family of killer ments. They’ll love us.”

  Midas took off his glasses, then rubbed the bridge of his nose. He was about to speak when Michael broke in.

  “I don’t get why we can’t just stay a little while longer. At least until we can use our contacts to get passports.”

  Blake shook his head. “Every woman in this town is out for your blood. Now they think you’ve been manipulating Arielle and Charlotte both. And if Charlotte turns out to be pregnant, it’ll be a thousand times worse.”

  “So you all believe me,” Michael asked. “That I didn’t rape her, I mean?”

  “We believe you,” Midas said. “But even as mayor, I can’t just put an end to this backlash. People have to understand—on a deeper, more emotional level—that there’s nothing wrong with any of you just because you’re telepaths. And so far, you haven’t made that easy. Just weeks ago, there was blood running in the streets.”

  Dominic put a reassuring hand on Michael’s shoulder. “We believe you, Mike. Don’t you worry about that. We’ll stick with you no matter what people say.”

  “We believe,” Blake said, “that you weren’t yourself when it happened. But that doesn’t mean you’re not responsible. I’ve been training you to avoid exactly that kind of telepathic deception.” Shooting out of his seat, he began to shout. “If Charlotte could get past your defenses without any formal training whatsoever, there’s no telling what one of Harris Kole’s Type IIs could pull off. What the hell were you thinking when she stepped into your bedroom that night?”

  “I thought she was Arielle.”

  “You did? Or was it another part of your anatomy?”

  Michael averted his gaze, his face reddening with shame. “What should I do now?”

  Blake stood by the window with his arms crossed.

  “There is one option. You leave for a few weeks to go East. Tell everyone you were so ashamed of what happened you decided to seek penance. Go alone and well prepared. Maybe get a job as a farmhand in a small town nearby. Use the opportunity to sharpen your ability…because you certainly can’t practice on the people here.”

  Michael nodded. “I need the practice, for sure, if someone like her could trick me. But—but what about Arielle?”

  “If she loves you, as you say she does, she’ll wait for you.”

  “Reggie and I will watch over her,” Dominic said. “Keep her safe.”

  “And what if I don’t make it back?”

  Blake narrowed his eyes at Michael. “That’s up to you. You’re a man now. You’ll have to get used to taking care of yourself.”

  Everyone went silent for a few moments.

  “Then we’re all agreed,” Midas said, standing. “Voluntary exile. You won’t go far from here. A safe town where you can lay low for a while—try to gain some new skills. Sound about right?”

  “Agreed,” Michael said.

  Blake nodded. “Agreed.”

  Chapter 32

  The front door flew open, banging against the wall.

  Charlotte tightened her grip around her son. She had already explained to the boy about his role as her blocker, her shield, and how he was never to leave her side unless absolutely necessary. Michael was dangerous. They had to watch out for Michael and his friends. They were killers.

  But it wasn’t Michael who barged in. It was Arielle.

  “William,” Arielle said, “go play in your room.”

  William glanced up at his mother, saw her piercing look, and shook his head at Arielle.

  “Fine. Then I’m sorry you have to see this.”

  She stormed into the living room, then slapped Charlotte across the face hard enough to fling her back against the couch cushions.

  “Arielle,” Charlotte screeched, clutching her cheek. William rose off the couch, then started backpedaling toward the door. “William, don’t go,” his mother called.

  “You committed the same sin Paul committed against us, and I’ll never forgive you for it,” Arielle said, hands balled into fists.

  “He’s mine now,” Charlotte said, “and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

  Arielle’s lip trembled. “I can’t believe you would do this. To him. To me.”

  “Why?” Charlotte said, shooting off the couch. “And do what, exactly? Protect you from a monster? You can’t handle someone like him, and I won’t always be there to protect you when he blows a circuit in that precious brain of his and goes crazy. You know it’ll happen eventually.”

  “It won’t,” Arielle said. “He hasn’t done anything like that since he got here. It’s the regular people who are trying to kill everyone, not the telepaths. People like Warren and John Meacham. Michael’s nothing like them.”

  Charlotte’s nose crinkled. When she spoke her sister’s name, it came out almost as a snarl. “Arielle, he was designed to kill people. That’s what he does.”

  “Is that right? And what were we designed to do? We came out of those experiments, same as him. What does that make us?”

  “Breeders, you idiot. Women meant to give birth to more killers. Is that what you want to be?”

  Arielle tried to speak, but the words caught in
her throat. Finally, in a quiet, shuddering voice, she managed to say the words Charlotte had fully expected to hear all along.

  “I love him.”

  “Oh, to hell with that,” Charlotte said. “We’re in the Eastlands, in case you forgot. Here, men with any ambition at all are either slavers or politicians, if not both. With an ability like his, Michael’s going to end up being just like John Meacham. You see how much he loves his own power.” Exasperated, Charlotte shook her head. “I always knew you were the idealistic one. I just never thought you were this stupid.”

  Arielle inched closer, then whispered fiercely into her sister’s face. “Then why do you want him so bad?”

  “I don’t. Isn’t that something? Not everyone wants him. I just want to get the hell out of this spiteful town while I’m still young—while I still have a life ahead of me. The NDR is where we should be—the wives of rich businessmen or politicians.”

  “Or the wife of a Type I,” Arielle said, a knowing look in her eyes. “Isn’t that your strategy?”

  Bravo. So Arielle finally knew the truth. Charlotte had to turn this around somehow, make it seem like she was working for them both. None of this would happen without Arielle. They could share Michael, for all Charlotte cared.

  Thinking of what to say next, she became uncomfortable with William in the room.

  She gestured at him. “Hey, you, go to your room.” When the boy hesitated, she shouted through gritted teeth. “Now.”

  He made a show of leaving, half stomping and half dragging his feet up the stairs. After he had slammed his door shut, Charlotte took a step toward Arielle.

  She tried to touch her sister’s shoulder, but Arielle instinctively pulled away.

  “Listen to me. We could go together,” Charlotte said. “You think Michael would complain if he had us both? It would be a fantasy come true. Look at how beautiful we are. He would protect us, you, me, and William, too. Don’t forget he’s your nephew.”

  “You want to share him?” Arielle was bewildered. “You think he would actually do something like that? What’s wrong with you?”

  Charlotte’s face went hot with conviction. It felt so right. Would Michael really turn down the option of having two beautiful young wives? One practically a virgin? She couldn’t believe she’d never thought of it. Of course he would love Arielle more—but that didn’t matter. He could get them both out of here and into the NDR, where life was safer and there would be at least some culture to enjoy.

  “Look at us,” Charlotte said, softly now. “We’re beautiful and young. We deserve better than this place.”

  Arielle’s voice came out a cracked whisper. “I’ll testify against you. They still haven’t convicted him in the town’s court.”

  “Oh, sis. You still don’t understand how this town thinks. If I’m caught lying, the punishment is exile. But you really think the town would choose to outcast me—a young, fertile woman in a town with very few girls—over Michael, a strange young man who has caused nothing but problems since he got here?”

  “I don’t care,” Arielle said. “I know the truth, and I’ll stand by it.”

  “You mean you’ll stand by him. Over your own family. Besides, if they did exile me, I would take William. He’s my son, and no one could stop me. How long do you think he would last out there?”

  Arielle shook her head, obviously repulsed. “You’re disgusting. Using your own son like that? You’ll really do anything to protect yourself, no matter who else has to suffer.”

  “That’s right,” Charlotte agreed with the same level of conviction. They were on opposite sides now—completely at odds with each other in a way they had never been. It felt oddly liberating.

  “We’re done,” Arielle said. “You won’t find my things upstairs anymore. William knows he can come visit me whenever he wants.”

  “Like hell he will,” Charlotte snarled.

  Arielle wiped tears from her face, squared her shoulders, and turned away. The screen door slammed shut behind her. Charlotte broke into a sprint, hurrying up the stairs to her sister’s bedroom. She flung the door open into a bare room. Only the bed frame and the mattress remained. The dresser had one drawer half open and empty. So it was true. Arielle had ditched her.

  Good riddance.

  Charlotte headed to William’s bedroom, knocked softly on the door.

  “Who is it?” William asked, sniffling.

  “It’s me, baby. I’m coming in.”

  “No. I don’t wanna see you.”

  “Well, you have to. I’m all you’ve got.”

  Once inside, she gathered him up. With his head in her lap, her arms cradling him, Charlotte spoke softly into his ear. It took a few minutes of caressing him to get the boy to warm up to her again.

  “You’re my blocker,” she said. “My shield. Isn’t that right, baby?”

  Glumly, William nodded. It was enough to satisfy her for now. Things were going to change around here, but Charlotte couldn’t make those changes by herself. She needed her boy. Her crippled little baby blocker.

  “I need you…” she kept repeating. “I love you so much, baby.”

  But her thoughts weren’t with her son. They were somewhere else, a place soaked with blood. Louis Blake and his boys were always talking about war, but they hadn’t seen anything yet.

  Chapter 33

  Louis Blake and Midas Ford spent a week campaigning and negotiating on Michael’s behalf with the ministers and elders of the town. But Gulch was determined. Since the fall of John Meacham, Midas Ford had turned the place into a democracy. The citizens of Gulch could now vote on many issues over which they had previously lacked influence.

  The vote against Michael was overwhelmingly one-sided. They all agreed on one thing—the Type I had to go.

  But there were still Ian and Arielle’s testimonies against Charlotte. The possibility Michael had been tricked and hadn’t committed rape at all was still there. Blake and Midas worked out an agreement with the ministers, which the town grudgingly agreed to, if only to avoid a long trial where violence could erupt. Michael could return in six months and try his luck then, but he had to bring back proof of his commitment to the well-being of Gulch.

  He had to return bearing gifts, or not at all.

  “They gave me two weeks to prepare,” Michael told Arielle.

  He sat on his motorcycle at the foot of the driveway, his face inches from hers. She had come out of the house—the boys’ house, not the pink one at the end of the street—dressed in sweatpants and a T-shirt. Luckily, the night was warm. Michael pulled her in for a kiss.

  “I don’t want you to leave,” she said.

  He stared into her eyes. He didn’t want her to worry, yet he didn’t mind knowing she did.

  “Come on,” he said, sliding forward to make room. “Get on.”

  He drove up a sloping path that wound through the forest toward the rim of the box canyon. It was cooler up here, the trees more fragrant and the breeze fierce. The chirping of insects and the solemn sighs of the wind whispered softly in the background.

  They sat nestled against each other on a rocky ledge overlooking a faint cluster of lights still glowing in the heart of Gulch. The sky was dominated by stars, twinkling clusters visible among sweeps of cosmic dust and gas. A meteor cut its course across the spread, followed by another a minute later.

  “You don’t really have to go, Michael. This is stupid.”

  Arielle sat hunched forward, hugging her knees. Michael rubbed her back, hoping to soothe her.

  “It’ll only be for a few months.” He pulled her close, then pressed his cheek against the warmth of her scalp. “I even know what I’ll bring back.”

  She gave him a searching look. “What?”

  “A new life for those who want it. You’ll see.”

  “Please don’t do anything dangerous.”

  “Don’t worry. I’ve got it under control.”

  She sighed. “It’s warmer down in the canyon. Let’s go
for a swim.”

  “A swim—in the pond?”

  She nodded, eyes reflecting the stars. Michael was speechless. They hadn’t brought bathing suits. If the town found out, they would think—

  “Don’t worry so much,” Arielle said, rising to her feet. “It’ll be nice. And we’ll be really quiet.”

  When they arrived, Michael did a quick scan to see if anyone was nearby. They were alone. The only sound was the shh of the twin waterfalls plummeting into the pond. It drowned out all other noise, enveloping them.

  They undressed in the dark of a small cabin next to the water. The place had been cleaned and restored by Peter, Eli, and Ian for occasions like these, when they might come up with a girl to go swimming. Peter had bragged about using it many times, though Michael had never actually been inside.

  In the near darkness within its shabby walls, Michael watched Arielle’s slender body slip out of her clothing with all the wonder of a young boy watching a butterfly emerge from a cocoon. He’d never seen her naked before—at least not the real Arielle.

  Glancing at her belly, he checked for a birthmark, then breathed a sigh of relief when he didn’t see one.

  Once Michael had undressed, they ran the short distance to the water. Soon, they were neck deep, the muddy floor soft against their feet. Michael used a form of light hypnosis to convince himself and Arielle that the water was pleasantly warm. There was no fear of hypothermia; the temperature was fine as long as they didn’t stay too long.

  Still, she shivered.

  “This is crazy,” she said, her voice elevated to be heard over the waterfalls.

  Michael drew her trembling body against his, holding her tight. He was trembling as well, though more from nervousness than anything else, since the water now felt as warm as it might on a hot summer day.

  “It’s safe,” he said.

  She let out a childish giggle, released him, and swam away.

  “Hey,” he said, reaching out to grab one of her kicking legs. “Where are you going?”

  “Away from you. I know what you want. I can feel it.”

  “You and your empathic abilities,” he said, swimming toward her.