The First Male

by Lee Hayes

  I bet the authors of the prophecies never saw that coming, he thought to himself.

  But, in order to rule, he needed Simon. He needed Simon first to heal the sickness that grew in his body; only their combined power could thwart the poison that raced through his veins. That witch, Clara, wasn’t simply some two-bit psychic—only a Thibodeaux witch’s blood would have such an effect on him. If the infection wasn’t eliminated soon, he knew he’d die.

  He leaned over and spat a wad of blood onto the floor, violent coughing punching him in the chest. He wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and steeled his disposition. He wasn’t going out like this. He was stronger than this sickness. He was stronger than any poisoned magic. He was The One—or at least half of The One.

  Eli sat in the chair and he felt his strength returning to him as he ignored the calls from the Shadowland to return. Hissing sounds filled the room, beckoning him, but he wasn’t yet ready to return. He tried to block out the sounds, but they penetrated his mind.

  Eli felt rage boiling to the surface. When he could no longer bear the hissing sounds that scratched at him, he opened his mouth and let out a shriek that could be heard in every room and every crack and crevice in the center. His voice punched through walls, shattered glass, overturned heavy furniture and machinery, and knocked patients out of their beds; it was like a hurricane ripping through the place. Immediately, Eli felt stabbing pains in his stomach, but his rage was stronger than his sickness.

  In the seconds right after Eli disappeared in the shadows, the entire building imploded.

  Heavy snow fell continuously from the sullen sky, blanketing Louisiana and much of the southern states. The effects of the snow were fierce: snarling traffic and plunging many cities into darkness; its weight snapping power lines across much of the region. There was no warning for the blizzard-like conditions. Meteorologists across the south decried what they termed as the freak Christmas snowstorm of the century.

  From the window of a house perched high somewhere, Simon could see and hear the winds of the storm below; yet, when he looked directly out of the window, it was all sunshine and iridescent colors. The green of the grass and the yellows, purples, and reds of the flowers in the yard almost glistened. From the subtle movements of the plants in the yard, he guessed that a warm breeze caused them to gently bend and lean. The scene was utterly picturesque, like something out of a painting. Here, he was completely shielded from the turmoil in the real world; here, in this false world, he felt, at peace.

  But, it wasn’t real. Simon knew that. It was something Adelaide had conjured.

  Several times, Simon tried to leave the house, to open a door or break a window, but to no avail; the door simply did not budge and even when he hurled a chair against the window it didn’t break or even scratch. He was trapped.

  Addie was locked in a room in the back, presumably sleeping. When they arrived in this manufactured place, she told him she must rest and then stumbled her way into the room in the back. Simon heard the heavy locks snap into place when she closed the door. It was evident that she didn’t trust him.

  That was twelve hours ago.

  And, while she slept, Simon had waking dreams of a man with a face exactly like his; only, it wasn’t a dream. It was his brother, who existed in another place, a place Simon couldn’t reach. Even across the vast distance that separated them, Simon felt him and longed to connect with him. His longing was a constant itch, an almost aching need.

  He continued to stare out of the window, thinking about the profound ways in which his life had changed, almost in an instant. Only days ago, life had been so serene; now, peace was a distant memory, a far-off place. Images flashed across his mind of a life that no longer existed; a life that could no longer exist. He thought of Franklin and of Brooke and of Cisco and of The Black Cat and of Starry Nights and longed for simpler days; days without magic and mystical forces; days without shadows and snakes and haunting dreams of Addie and his father and the Shadowman.

  “You want to know who you are?” a voice called out from behind him. When he turned, he saw Addie standing before him. She was dressed in a free-flowing blue dress with yellow flowers. Her coal-black hair hung low, far below her shoulders. She looked youthful; the wrinkles that had carved deep rivers into her face only hours ago had simply faded away, leaving her skin luminescent and her blue eyes sparkling—eyes like his.

  “I want to know what I am. But I also want to know what you did with Franklin. Where is he?”

  “Your friend is out of harm’s way. I thought that would be best. He won’t remember any of this.” She moved closer to him and placed her hand on his shoulder, cautiously.

  “Why are you scared of me?” he asked as he returned his gaze to the outside world.

  “I’m not afraid of you, Simon.”

  “What’s that smell, then? I have smelled more fear in the last two weeks than I have in my whole life. I know what fear smells like. It leaves a bad taste in my mouth,” he said, without looking her direction. “Where are we?”

  “We are in a protected space between worlds. We can’t stay here much longer.”

  “Good. ’Cause I wanna go home.”

  “Come. Sit,” she said as she moved over to the couch. She pointed at the chair in front of her. “You have many questions.” She waved her hands across the coffee table and an old leather-bound book materialized on the table. “This book will provide you with answers.”

  Answers. The one thing Simon had craved all his life was now the thing he feared. The answers he longed for were written in the pages of some book on a table a few feet from where he stood.

  Slowly, he moved over to the chair and sat. Instantly, the book appeared in his lap.

  “Read,” Addie instructed. He looked at her and then down at the book in his lap. When he touched it, he felt vibrations, as if the book were alive. He opened the thick black cover and gazed at the first page, which he couldn’t understand. The book was written in symbols and thick, curvy lines.

  “I can’t read this.”

  “I’m certain that you can.” Simon looked down again, but all he saw were symbols. He looked up, frustrated. “That book is the ancient text of the sister-clan. It can only be read by members of the clan; yet, I am confident you can read it. It tells who you are—or will be.”

  Simon looked down at the book again. He closed the book and placed his hand on top of the weathered leather cover. He closed his eyes, inhaling slowly. He felt the book’s vibrations grow stronger, faster. As the vibrations grew in intensity, Simon felt the words of the book tell its story. He learned of the sister-clan, the protectors of the light. He learned of the shadows and the shadow-creature that he saw in the restroom at The Black Cat. His name was Eetwidomayloh, which means he who greets with fire. He learned of the ageless battle between the light and the shadows. And, he learned of The One who would end the battle and drown the world in blood. He learned of so many things. The years of stories buzzed by, filling his head with ancient knowledge. His head snapped from side to side, sometimes violently.

  He suddenly jerked his hand from the book and tossed it onto the table like it was a hot piece of metal. He leapt to his feet and moved quickly to the other side of the room, putting distance between himself and the book.

  “Bullshit! This isn’t me—all of this a lie, some kind of trick!”

  “It is true, Simon. In your heart you know it is.” Her voice was serene, calm.

  “I’m not a killer or a king or this one everybody is so scared of. I don’t want this. I don’t want any of this. I want to get back to my life and back to my girlfriend and my job; forget that any of this ever happened.” Angry tears burned his eyes.

  “You have darkness in you. You have felt it; you have seen it manifest and you cannot ignore it,” she said as she stood and moved closer to him. “But, you also have goodness in you. When you were born, I blessed your blood with goodness, with light, with love. You are more than what’s written.�
�� She grabbed his hand and held it between hers, tenderly; as he always imagined his grandmother would.

  “I don’t care what that book says. I’m not anything like that. I wanna go home.”

  “I have so much to show you; so much to teach you. Let us sit.” She took Simon’s hand and guided him back to the chair. “I know the question in your heart. And you are right. He is your brother. His name is Eli.”

  “How could I have an identical twin that I know nothing about? How could you keep me from him? Do you have any idea how lonely a child I was? I needed someone—someone related to me. I’ve spent twenty years feeling like a freak, an outsider, and now, all of a sudden, I have family. This is some bullshit.”

  Addie stood up and moved over to the kitchen as she spoke. “I hid you from the shadows for your safety—for the safety of us all. Eli is lost to the light. We couldn’t lose you, too.” She reached into the cabinet, pulled out two cups and poured water into each one. Instantly, the water boiled and she dropped a tea bag into each cup.

  “I can’t get my head around any of this. All these years, the only thing I ever really wanted was a family. Where are my parents, my mother and my father?”

  “Your mother is with Eli. She, too, is lost. They seek to corrupt you, to bring you to the shadows.”

  “What about my father? Where is he?”

  Simon sensed Addie’s emotions constrict. “He is dead.” Her tone didn’t leave much room for conversation, but Simon pushed.

  “I’ve dreamed of him. I’ve felt him. Thomas. That’s his name, isn’t it? My father. Your son. I think he’s been speaking to me over the years.”

  Addie quickly set down the tea. “What has he said to you?”

  “Sometimes when I’m in trouble, or scared, I hear a voice in my head saying, ‘Don’t be afraid.’ I just realized that it was him speaking to me.”

  “How can this be?” Addie said, more to herself. “You must tell me everything he has said to you—everything.”

  “That’s it—‘don’t be afraid’—that’s all he said. What happened to him?”

  “He died. In a car accident.”

  Carrying two mugs of hot tea, she moved back into the living room, placing a cup before him. She sat down onto the couch and brought the cup to her mouth. She blew into the cup, scattering the rising steam. “Drink,” she said. Simon picked up the cup of tea and let the sweet aroma fill his nostrils.

  “What of my brother?”

  “He is evil incarnate.”

  “That can’t be true.”

  “It is. He would see this world lie in ruins. And, he would free Eetwidomayloh, giving him dominion to walk the earth.” From the knowledge he gained from her book, Simon understood that only the power of The One could unlock the gates and free him from the Shadowland. When Eetwidomayloh was free to walk the earth he would bring with him every dark creature over which he had power. They would unleash an unknown reign of terror on the earth, a reign of terror led by The One.

  “But, he’s my brother—my identical twin brother—aren’t we the same?”

  “You share the same darkness.”

  “Stop saying that.” Simon grew agitated. “Tell me how to stop this. What do I need to do?”

  She sipped on her tea and Simon sipped his. The moment the tea hit his throat he felt a fire burn in him.

  “What is this?” he asked.

  “It is an ancient tea of my sister-clan. It provides peace of mind. Drink again. It won’t hurt as much. You will need the clarity it provides.” Cautiously, Simon picked up the cup and sipped again, fighting the urge to choke. The more he sipped, the more he wanted to sip. The bitterness of the beverage turned to honey sweetness, and he found himself craving more of it.

  “You keep talking about the darkness in me. How do I get it out of me? I mean, can’t you do an exorcism or something? Can’t I give my powers away or bury them or something?”

  “You are the first male born of the first born Thibodeaux male. The prophecies have made you what you are. I cannot undo it; no one can.”

  “What the hell can you do, then? I don’t want to become this . . . this thing. You have to help me!” Simon’s voice suddenly went from calm to frantic. He slammed the cup of tea down, spilling some of it on the table, and leapt to his feet. He felt a strong burning sensation inside his chest and a tingling in his fingers and toes.

  “Simon,” Addie said as she rose to her feet, “you must control it. Do not let the dark control you. Anger, lust, rage, jealousy, fear—all bring you closer to the shadows.” She stepped toward him. “Control it.”

  “No, don’t come any closer,” he cautioned. “Stay away from me.”

  “Control it, Simon.” When she tried to take a few more steps toward him, he raised his hand, and, instantly, she was thrown against the wall.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “Control it!” she yelled.

  “I don’t want to be here. I want to go home!”

  Simon felt a sudden tingling in his chest as a bright, yellow light consumed the room. “You can’t have me—none of you can!” he screamed out.

  In a flash, he was gone.

  CHAPTER 23

  Before he could complete a blink, Simon was standing in the middle of his living room when only seconds ago he was in an unknown place with Adelaide. Somehow, he had been transported here, to his home, with a single thought. He remembered talking to her about who he was predicted to become and the carnage he would inflict upon the world. He was overwhelmed by the weight of her words and remembered really wanting to be in the safety and comfort of his home, and then he was standing here.

  In his living room.

  Alone.

  There’s no place like home.

  He turned his head slowly and looked around at the place, taking time to fully process his surroundings. Everything was exactly the way he left it. The remote control was on the table; a half-empty glass of apple juice sat near it. The pillows on the couch were misaligned, and the stain on the carpet where he spilled cranberry juice a few weeks ago was still there. Damn, it felt good to be home. He needed respite from the supernatural lunacy that had surrounded him. He felt safe here, in spite of the paranormal occurrences that continued to plague him.

  He sighed.

  His apartment was dark and frigid. Cold breezes seeped in from underneath the door and from the window sill. He had complained about the lack of sufficient insulation but never raised a stink about it with the landlord; never wanting to be a bother to anyone. The entire apartment was deathly quiet, as if it hadn’t known life in years. Wintry air embraced him, wrapping itself around him like the chilly arms of a long, lost lover; he shuddered while wrapping his arms around himself.

  He moved over to the lamp on the table and clicked it on, expelling some of the darkness; but, shadows still lingered all around. Everywhere there seemed to be shadows; even the shadows had shadows. He then moved over to the thermostat on the wall and flipped the switch. He waited for the heating unit to start its familiar hum, but it remained quiet. He tried again. Still, it was quiet. Shit, he said to himself when he remembered the unpaid and unopened gas bill that littered his kitchen counter. He had meant to pay it, but there had been too much going on for him to remember something as simple as a utility bill.

  Simon decided to try something. He focused on the heating unit; with a slight tingle in his index finger, he touched the thermostat and heard the unit click on. This power has to be good for something, he thought.

  His body cut through the stillness of the apartment as he moved about, not sure exactly what to do next. He stepped into the living room and stopped when he neared the window. The heavy snowfall continued, and the land was covered in white as far as the eye could see. Cars parked along the curb were nearly buried by the snow and the street itself was hidden, blending seamlessly with the curb and the sidewalk. Streetlights cast a dim illumination on the abandoned urban block. Outside, all was quiet; the snow had fo
rced people to retreat into their homes.

  Destroyer of worlds. The words kept ringing in his head. Destroyer of worlds. The words taunted him. Destroyer of worlds. The words haunted him. All he wanted was his simple life back. He didn’t want this power and he had no intention of destroying anything. Then, he remembered the feeling that consumed him in the forest with Franklin and realized that he might be capable of tearing down the world if he had the power; and apparently he did, or at least he soon would, when he ascended—whatever that meant—on his twenty-first birthday, which was in two days. He trembled when he thought of what could be. He was more afraid of himself than he was of snakes and shadows and the Shadowman that wanted to claim him.

  Simon shook his head and then walked through the lonely house, assessing his imminent fate. Only days ago he had been happy, happy here, in his apartment. He remembered the recent card party Franklin threw with some of his buddies from The Black Cat and the laughter that filled the house that night. Simon won almost two hundred dollars that night. He and Franklin had spent countless nights drinking into the wee hours of the morning, lamenting life and blasting whatever trouble rocked their relationship of the moment; that was before Brooke. Simon’s mind was pulled to thoughts of her. Her voice always filled his apartment with such life and love, especially on days when he had been content to keep the curtains pulled to block out the sun. She was often his light. He remembered holding her, and all the memories of their passion confronted him, regardless of which direction he looked in the small space; they had made love all over the place. He could smell her everywhere and, for the first time in days, it hit him hard how much he missed her; it was like one of his limbs had been removed. The pain of her absence had been there all along, simmering just beneath the surface of his extraordinary circumstances. As he stood in the silent room, the pain made itself known, screaming throughout his body, like a chill deep in his bones. He felt tears welling in his eyes, but he beat them back, unsure of what damage his emotional breakdown would cause.