21
A rapping at the locked door of the shop brought James’s attention out of his reading and he looked up to see Thomas waiting outside, bathed in the late morning glow of the sun. He pushed the book of ancient mythologies away and stood a little too quickly, feeling his back bite at him in protest.
“I’m getting too old for sitting, too hard to get moving again,” he grumbled.
Walking around the tall wooden counter, he approached the door and flipped the locks, ushering Thomas inside and the locking the door once again behind him. The sign in the front window read “Closed” and he intended to keep it that way for the remainder of the day.
“Thanks for calling me, James.” Thomas walked to the counter and leaned against it. “Can I assume that your invitation means you haven’t written me off as a crackpot?”
James smiled, his teeth all intact but showing a yellow accumulated through years of smoking and coffee drinking. “Oh, I wouldn’t go so far as that just yet. I couldn’t tell you how many times that word . . . crackpot . . . has passed through my mind over the years. Might just be I’m one too. Birds of a feather, as they say.”
“Well, what is it two crackpots might talk about when they get together?”
“Let’s take this to the back room where I can rest these old bones into something more comfortable.” He led Thomas through the door at the rear of the shop and into his small living quarters. There was no couch, but there were two old but comfortable recliners. He gestured to one and waited for Thomas to take a seat. He grabbed two cold Pabst out of the refrigerator and sat one down on a metal TV stand that separated the chairs. Then he cracked a beer open, relishing the pop and fizz of the can before taking a large swig and settling into the other chair.
“I believe I’ll refrain for now, at least until I hear what you have to tell me. Then we’ll see if I need a drink or not.”
“Suit yourself, got plenty more.” James took a second, deep gulp before setting the now half-empty can between his legs. “I thought I was done with all this madness, Thomas. Not saying I’m not still done with it, but you could say I was intrigued by your story. Can you tell me who else knows what you told me?” He wanted to start there. It was important to him to know how far this had spread. That would tell him all he needed to know about the big man with the tall tale.
“My sister, of course. There was the man who helped us get to the island and back off again, Lomate. Then what villagers survived that day when they tried to kill my nephew. Who they might have told, I couldn’t say.”
James watched Thomas, who stared down at the floor, looking lost in a memory. “You haven’t told anybody since you’ve been back? No friends, no church-folk?”
“Not a chance.”
“What about your sister? Woman like to talk. They don’t hold things like this in. She must have told somebody. A best friend, maybe?”
“Sophie writes. That’s her way of processing what happened. Besides that, she’s terrified at the idea of talking about it. Seems to think speaking of it will bring it back to life.”
There it is, he thought. “Writing a book, huh? And she plans on doing what with it, shopping it to an agent? Getting a movie deal?”
Thomas looked over at him, his eyes confused for a moment, then he chuckled. “No, nothing like that. It’s a journal really, just a very long one. My sister and I are fortunate enough that money isn’t much of a concern. Sophie cycles through charitable stuff, dishing out food at the shelter, caring for pets at the Humane Society, but she hasn’t worked a paying job in years. The journal is kind of her job, in that it gives her focus and routine, but mostly I think it’s therapeutic. She doesn’t like to talk about what happened, but she likes to write it out.”
“When you say that money isn’t a concern . . .”
“I mean that we sold a family business and a job now would only be to pass the time. Money won’t be a concern for either of us. Ever.”
“Congratulations.” He took another pull at the can and contemplated that for a second. If that were true, then his presumptions that money was a motivator wouldn’t hold water. “I’ll be upfront with you, Thomas. I used to believe in all kinds of far-fetched things. Voodoo, spiritism, possession, you name it. I was a bit obsessed with it, to be honest. But that all changed. I haven’t been a true believer in anything beyond what I can see and touch for several years. Your story, well, that was a doozy. Quite different from the normal stuff I hear. You’ve had me a touch curious. Now I got to ask, if you’re not in this for money, what are you here for?”
Thomas looked at him, surprised. “I brought you the pictures. I thought it was obvious. My concern is for my nephew. I’m worried that he might be hurt by this thing, or that others might be hurt.” By him was left out.
“You said your sister, Sophie, she was seduced by this Daucina?”
“That’s a kind way to put it.”
“And that Kai was born after. You’re afraid that he’s, what, a spawn of this demon?”
Thomas pushed himself up from the chair and paced around the small room like a caged cat. James watched, growing more interested by the minute.
“I don’t know what I’m afraid of, James. Sophie says that Kai’s father was Jacob, the man I killed. But there is undoubtedly something different about Kai. He’s not your average kid, though I can’t explain just what he is. He seems to have a hold over people. Strange things happen around him from time to time. And, physically . . . James, the kid is bigger than me, darker than either of his parents, and his eyes . . .”
“His eyes?”
“Maybe that’s something you just need to see for yourself. Listen, I was hoping to come here because you had something helpful to discuss with me. Is this an interview process?” Thomas dropped heavily back into the chair and leaned over his long legs, placing his forearms over his knees and looking sideways at James.
“You could say that. I want a feel for the people I’m involving myself with.” He stared back at Thomas, his blue eyes looked tired, like jeans that had been washed a thousand times. “If I’m being honest with you, Thomas, I’ve been dealing with crackpots so long now, I’ve grown a bit cynical. Your story struck a bell with me, though. Deep down in my gut, and there’s still a part of me that trusts my gut. Even if it keeps me up at night and locked in the bathroom.”
He took a last, long pull of his beer and put the empty can on the table next to the unopened one he’d left for Thomas. Then he pulled out a sheet of crinkled notebook paper and smoothed it out on his lap.
“There isn’t much information on Daucina. In Fijian culture he’s a God of seafaring and a seducer of women. The story goes that he was an angry child who was only calmed after his mother gave him a lamp. She sewed burning reeds into his hair and he went around after that with a hood of flames.”
All this Thomas knew already, both from personal experience and from his own research on the subject over the years. “I can tell you, James, the flames aren’t from any hood. He had fire coming right out of his head. But there was a lamp. Just a normal old lamp made of brass. When Kai was a baby, before we got off those damned islands, he cried nonstop unless he had that lamp in front of him. When I carried Sophie off the island, she gripped onto that lamp like her life depended on it. Or like Kai’s depended on it, I don’t know. Bit busy at the time.”
James stroked at the stubble on his chin, leaned back in his chair, grabbed the other beer, and cracked it open. “I’d say that’s pretty interesting. There’s plenty of cases stating that spirits have possessed inanimate objects. If this were all true, it’s possible that Daucina was nothing more than a boy with a mother who was into some dark things. I suppose it’s possible she called forth a spirit into this lamp and provided it to her son. From there, a possession could have happened.”
He looked over at Thomas, who was taking in his words like they were water in the desert. “Listen, Thomas, I ain’t one for mincing words. This is all interesting to me, I’ll ad
mit. But I will also admit to you that before I could start seriously considering an actual possession, I’d want to meet this boy.”
Kai strode up the walkway to Jenny’s house with a single-minded purpose. Up to this point in his young life, he had viewed others as a means to an end. People were there to do things for him and he enjoyed the game of pulling strings and planting seeds that would eventually end with him getting the results he wanted. It wasn’t that he lacked the ability to care for others. He cared for his mother a great deal, and his Uncle Tommy, as well. Now, there was Jenny.
When he thought of Jenny he experienced a fondness for the girl that was undeniable. He felt protective of her in a way that was only matched by the protectiveness that he felt with his mother. Jenny, with her shy smile, blushing cheeks, and sweet innocence.
But there was also a physical need. One he felt stir up in him often where females were concerned, but with her it went much deeper. He needed to possess her, to join with her, and to plant himself within her. There was some force possessing him that he didn’t fully understand. At only seventeen years old, his physical desires were strong, but he wanted more than to simply slake his lust. He wanted to give his seed. Just the thought caused a renewed aching in his loins and visions of spending himself inside her dominated his mind.
Before he reached the door, it opened. Slowly at first, then wide and inviting. Jenny stood there, no longer donning her Sunday attire. Now she looked freshly showered and wore only a pair of light green shorts and a white T-shirt. Her hair appeared to be slightly damp still, its normal light auburn showing as a darker copper, and was pulled back in a ponytail.
Seeing her standing there so prettily brought the ache on stronger. Kai never slowed as he moved up the steps. He just picked her up in one smooth motion and swung the door shut behind him. She gasped in surprise but wrapped her arms and legs around him and clung to him tightly.
“Kai,” she whispered into his ear. The warmth of her breath and the sensuality in her voice brought his heat up further.
“Up the stairs?”
She remained quiet but nodded her head. He moved up the stairs two at a time, bearing her weight with ease. As he entered her room he smelled her everywhere, a sweet smell lilac and warm flesh. He lowered her to the bed and pressed himself into her.
“This is wrong, isn’t it?” Her voice was soft and curious.
He pushed his hips into hers and she gasped again. “We’ll be one flesh,” he replied. “Is that wrong?”
Then he was kissing her, and her response was greedy, pulling him down tighter and kissing him with an urgency that surprised and pleased him. Then he was pulling off her shirt and kissing the pale pink circles of her breasts, trailing his lips down her flat tummy, then pulling down her shorts as he nibbled at her thighs. She was panting now and running her hands through his thick, black hair. Then his tongue trailed back up her inner thighs and found her nectar. She moaned in response and pulled more insistently at his hair, but he barely noticed. Her taste was so sweet.
As his mouth worked, he pulled off his pants and underclothes, then placed a large hand on each thigh and pushed them wider apart, his tongue pushing harder against her. Her moans came more deeply and soon her back was arching and her body stiffening. Then suddenly, she was relaxed and trying to catch her breath.
“My God . . .” she said up to the ceiling.
He pulled away from her then, and she lay there, still and spread out before him like a beautiful butterfly. Then he moved on top of her and began kissing her deeply while he worked himself against her. He bit gently at her lips, then her neck and her ears, all the while, grinding against her until the pain was almost too exquisite to bear.
“Kai,” her voice came out, desperate and shaky. “I’m not on the pill. Do you have anything?”
“No,” he said, then he joined them together.
Jenny cried out in pleasure and all questions were forgotten. They moved together with a fluidity that normally comes only with familiarity. Faster and faster and that magical moment came. He gave his essence up into her in a powerful moment of climax, then relaxed down on top of her with a deep sigh of satisfaction.
She stroked his hair and soaked up the feel of him.
“That didn’t feel wrong,” she whispered.
22
The following few days passed by like molasses drizzled over day-old pancakes for Jenny, but for Kai, the time seemed to be accelerating. Jenny’s phone calls and texts came incessantly in the first couple of days after they made love, but she cooled her expectations after recognizing Kai’s attentions were being drawn elsewhere. He knew it wasn’t as apparent when they were together, when his focus burned into her like a laser. It was those other times, she told him, when she would see him walking down the hall barely cognizant of those around him. Parting the jostling waves of rolling teenage bodies without so much as a flick of his hand.
He wasn’t shunning her at all. In fact, his affection for her had not dimmed in the slightest. He was deeply satisfied with her attention, and they had spoken and seen each other constantly during school. Even fumbled eagerly at each other during their lunch breaks. It was just that he had other things on his mind.
Ever since the strange dreams of the island had invaded his sleep, he’d been unable to fully move past them. Echoes of the rage and power in that nighttime vision had bounced through his head ceaselessly, followed by the screams of fleeing villagers, and he found himself wanting to recapture the feeling he’d experienced that night. Even more than he did the incredible feeling of being inside Jenny. It had stirred something in him, that dream. Something he’d had hints of throughout his young life but never faced directly.
The vision had changed that. He’d always possessed a sense of command over his surroundings that gave him a confidence others could only dream at. When he passed through a crowd, he felt others bend toward him, hoping to get his attention. When he walked through the forest, it was no different, as if the leaves of the trees rustled in his passing and the birds took interest in his movements. Sometimes he even felt like they were trying to speak to him.
This sense of command was inherent in him, a presence that always was, that he had right to. Not something he nurtured or worked at. It was only recently, after waking in a sweat and drawing the pictures, that he began to think on those talents. To realize he was different. Special. Now a plan was forming, and he was realizing he could put those talents to use. There was a grander plan to his thoughts that he didn’t understand yet, but he was getting there.
He would re-create the world. Not all the world, just his own place in it. For a start.
His eyes were closed, waiting for the last bell of the school day to ring and signify that they were over the hump of the school week. Behind his eyelids, flames danced and swirled. Water glistened, and hot sand massaged his feet. A structure was taking shape, raising itself up from memory one stone and stick at a time. Its foundation was strong, and its roof reached high to a point, piercing the sky.
It would not be easy, but it could be done. It had to be done. No rest would come to him until he could walk up those stone steps and into his sanctuary. He would take Jenny there, lay her out on the stone slab that he had envisioned. There, he would take her again, as was his right.
The heat was rising in him and he felt an overwhelming sense of power and domination rising with it. He realized his manhood was stiffening uncomfortably large in his jeans. Opening his eyes, he focused on the first girl he saw, sitting directly in front of him. Elizabeth Woodley, with her caramel colored hair and long, black eyelashes. He watched her intently, eyes boring into her back, tracking the curve of her neck and the way her hand absently caressed the end of a locket of her hair.
He wanted her. The desire to take her, to push her down over her desk and tear away her clothes was overwhelming. He wanted to mount her and spend his seed inside her where all the others could see. Nobody would stop him. Nobody could stop him. He could
do it, if he chose. He could take her right now and satisfy this animal urge that was washing over him.
Ling-a-ling-a-ling-a-ling. The bell pealed out and the quiet room suddenly stirred into life, with kids grabbing for their books and shoving them into packs and handbags. Kai shook his head, feeling the heat dissipate as quickly as it had been stoked. He watched Elizabeth and her pleasantly curved hips sashay down the aisle toward the front of the room. She was an attractive girl, but he’d never given her a second thought before. He wasn’t used to giving anybody a second thought before. Curious.
I might need to see to Jenny sooner than I planned, he thought to himself. But he had other things he needed to see to first.
After a quick stop at his locker to dump off the books he didn’t need, he made his way through the throngs of chattering students and out into the crisp air of the fall afternoon. Walking across the front lawn, he approached an older Dodge pickup with dark, chipped red paint and a faded bumper sticker declaring that, although Mean People Suck, Nice People Swallow. Standing next to the truck, chatting with a couple of senior boys, was his ride for the day, Lee Coleman. Lee was the type of guy that tilted his chin up when meeting somebody new, and would make sure his hand squeeze was always a little firmer than those he shook with. His dad also owned a local hardware store, where Lee worked part-time during the school year, and full-time during the summer. Kai was well aware of that when he’d asked for a ride home.
As he neared the front of the truck and the small group, the other two boys both gave him respectful nods before running off to their own vehicles.
“What’s up, big fella? Ready to blow this joint?” Lee rubbed at his tightly shaved head and hocked a wad of spit off over his shoulder.
“Let’s roll,” Kai responded before sliding into the passenger seat. The truck smelled of motor oil and spearmint.
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