“You have their essence or whatever you wish to call it in you now. Of course you have much more in you than your daughter does, but still there should be enough to allow the red formula to heal her,” Jaron answered, watching Mikel as he studied the healed marks on his wrist.
“Does that mean they are going to become Full-bloods?” Dirik asked quietly from behind everyone.
Jarod laughed from the bed. “Not unless we decide to finish the job.”
“And what does that mean?” Mikel snapped.
“What he means is that the essence will remain dormant until activated, until you drink the blood of the Full-blood who infected you,” Jaron answered, glaring at Jarod. Citera found the pair’s interaction strange. It almost seemed like Jaron had no fear what-so-ever of the man who was clearly double his weight with the temper of a rabid dog. But what was even more shocking was that Jarod seemed to tolerate, if not expect Jaron taking control and ordering him around. With a huff, Jaron returned his attention to Mikel, “unless that happens the only true side-effect is slightly increased healing capabilities, which is temporary, and the fact that the red formula will heal your bodies like it does ours. Like I said, he has been doing this for years and no one has experienced any ill effects.”
“So let me get this straight,” Mikel pointed at Jarod relaxing in the bed, “he hasn’t actually been killing all the people he arrested; instead he has chosen to save a selected few. If that is the case who gave him the right to decide who lives and dies? Better yet, where are all these people and why has nobody heard from any of them?”
Jarod remained relaxed with his feet propped up not appearing too daunted by Mikel’s raving. “I don’t really feel the need to explain anything to you, if you want to let your daughter to continue suffering with broken ribs, that’s your decision. But these two keep telling me that I need to open up and talk more, so how about this …” He turned to look at Mikel, his black eyes shining. “Janil was one of those ‘select few’ that I have saved.”
A heavy silence descended over the room as the Terrians struggled to grasp ahold of the information Jarod had so casually laid upon them. Pain etched across her features, Citera’s eyes began to slowly fill with tears. “Why would you say that? That was just cruel,” she cried, burying her face into her father’s shoulder.
“Have you no heart at all?” Mikel said with no lack of hatred in his voice. “All you do is bring misery, over and over again. Why would you reopen that wound?”
Jarod spun his legs around. “Jaron, get me my boots and coat, I am done with this damn clinic.”
“You settle down, you’re not going anywhere.” Jaron answered, trying to calm his friend down yet again, then returned his attention to Citera and Mikel. “He isn’t trying to reopen wounds. It’s the truth. I didn’t realize that the Terrian lady he brought to me before we came here was the same lady you were so upset about. But I assure you she is alive and well, back at my camp, with her husband.”
Mikel went pale and it was now Citera who was supporting him as his legs became weak beneath him. Could it be that everything they had thought about the Enforcer was really only a cover? Do you want to join your husband? The words he had said as they shackled her and marched her out of the clinic replayed over and over again in his mind. But how was it possible? The inspectors took her to the Tower, he saw it with his own eyes, and no one ever came back out once they went inside, alive anyway.
“How?” was the only thing he could manage to say.
Jarod, still sitting on the side of the bed and seeming very frustrated at not being able to get anyone to give him the rest of his clothes, stared down Mikel and Citera angrily. “I bit her, drained her, and then paid the cart driver to leave her in a specified location where I picked her up.”
“The two of us have a bond. It’s difficult to put in words, but no matter how far apart we are, we can allow the other to see glimpses of our thoughts,” Jaron tried to explain. “Usually he only needs to picture a location in his mind and I will know where to go to find them. Then I travel to there, find the body, and revive them. Once they are able, we then travel back to the camp. In your friend’s case, however, he was coming my way so she came with him.”
Connection? Jaron’s explanation brought with it about as many questions as it did answers. But one question weighed on him heavier than others. “If this is true, and I am still not convinced it is, then why didn’t you tell us? You have had many opportunities, why let us keep thinking she was dead and that you killed her?”
“Jaron, damn it, get me my things.”
Jaron stared down his angry friend in a silent rebuttal. Jarod growled with the frustration and slammed his fist into the mattress, denting the metal frame beneath. This was not a situation he was accustomed to, that was for sure. Gesturing angrily around at the group of them, he answered, “I never once said she was dead, you assumed that on your own, and now that you know the truth, you still don’t believe me.”
Mikel and Citera’s eyes cast to the floor, as Jarod continued to voice his frustration. “And why should you? You don’t have any reason to trust me and I couldn’t care less. Besides, what is the point of letting you know she is alive when you can never see or have contact with her ever again? Because that is the only way this works, if everyone they ever knew thinks that they are dead.”
Mikel and Citera, side by side, held on to each other. It was a lot to accept, not just what Jarod had said, but everything that had happened in the last two weeks. Since K had been carried through their doorway everything that they thought they knew had been proven to be nothing more than a lies.
“Well, now that that is settled,” K interrupted clapping her hands together and effectively drawing everyone’s attention. “Give the girl a small sip. That should be all it takes to heal her.”
Mikel looked down at the small vial in his hand and removed the top. Being careful not to spill any of its contents, he slowly handed it over to Citera. His nervousness was affecting her as she took it, using both hands to minimize the trembling. Glancing first at the vial, then at her father, and finally back to Jarod, she placed the vial to her lips. Taking a very small sip of the liquid, she then handed it back to overly anxious father.
“Do you feel okay?”
“I think so,” she answered, as a warm sensation traveled through her veins. “It feels strange.”
However, no sooner than the words had left her mouth, than the heat intensified, especially around her neck and ribs. The discomfort in her neck lasted only a few moments, as the healing formula made quick work of the mainly superficial wound. But her ribs were a different matter. Citera frowned, trying to keep from grimacing and worrying her father as the intensity of the heat in her ribcage continued to steadily increase, and as it did so did her anxiety.
“It’s burning, a lot, is it supposed to?” she asked, trying her best to control her growing panic.
Mikel, knowing his daughter well enough to tell she was in distress, took her into his arms and held her close to him. “How much longer will this take?” he asked of the Full-bloods watching them silently.
“A little longer, it’s almost run its course,” Jarod answered flatly. “Once it gets so hot you can’t stand it anymore it’s usually done, however bones are the worst.”
Citera, struggling with the fire burning inside her, buckled over hugging her ribs with tears welling in her eyes. She felt as if someone was inside her body with a white hot iron trying to burn their way out. She grabbed ahold of her father’s arm, squeezing with all her might and burying her face into his shoulder in attempt to keep herself from screaming. The heat continued to worsen. He lied, this isn’t stopping, she thought to herself. However, right when she was on the edge of blacking out, certain she was dying and that the Enforcer had found a way to extract his revenge, it stopped.
Stopped, not faded away, stopped, there wasn’t even a twinge of what she had been feeling, nothing, as if it never happened, it was gone. Cite
ra pulled her face out of her father’s shoulder and looked around at the room through wet, hazy eyes. Carefully she ran her hand along her ribcage and was elated to discover the pain was gone. Smiling, she glanced up at her father. “It worked,” she said, half laughing, unable to disguise her giddiness. “It doesn’t hurt to breathe.”
Mikel ran his hands over the ribs then pulled the bandage off her neck. “It left a scar.”
“The bites always do, there is no way to avoid it,” K answered casually. “She will need to find a way to keep it covered from now on.”
Mikel embraced his daughter tightly. He then walked across the room toward Jarod, who watched him suspiciously as he approached. “I’m not ashamed to admit when I have made a mistake, and in your case it appears I have made a tremendous one,” Mikel extended his hand, “I misjudged you, we all did, and for that I apologize.”
Jarod, who still seemed to question his intentions, hesitated. The two of them stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, then with a sigh, Jarod reluctantly took his hand.
“Well now that all that is over,” Dirik chimed in, “I’m going to the market. Anyone need anything?”
“No you’re not,” Jarod snapped, squeezing Mikel’s hand a little too hard. Seeing Mikel begin to buckle under the pressure he released his hand. “No one is going anywhere.”
Dirik, undeterred, held his ground. “I go to the market every day, so if I don’t show up it will raise people’s curiosity and they will come looking for me.” Dirik turned to walk toward the door with a cocky smirk. “Besides, what are you going to do about it?”
“Why you little …” Jarod’s temper flared, but Jaron quickly intervened, stepping between Dirik and the door.
“Just because he is out of commission doesn’t mean you are free to do as you wish. He is right, it is too risky to let you run around the streets, how do we know you won’t go straight to the patrols?”
Tension was rising in the room, as it became clear to Mikel and the others that despite everything that had occurred, they were still prisoners within their own home.
“He’s right,” Mikel broke in, “people will look for him. He runs errands for various people around town to earn money, and if he doesn’t show up they will come looking for him. It’s happened before when he was sick, half the market came here trying to find him. My suggestion is, if you don’t want a continuous line of people knocking on the front door, you’d better let him go.”
“I think it will be fine,” K joined in. “Let the boy go, he won’t do anything stupid,” as she spoke her eyes burned a hole through Dirik, “because he knows if he does, he would be putting the rest of his friends in grave danger.”
“Right, more threats,” Dirik muttered, inching his way around Jaron toward the door. “Like I said, I will be back. I’ll even bring dinner for everyone from the inn.”
Jarod’s head spun around at this last statement, but it was too late, the young Terrian was out the door and long gone. He sat there staring after him, shaking his head. He didn’t like the idea of the boy going outside, and definitely not to the inn; something about it gave him a bad feeling. But there was nothing he could do about it. He scanned around the room, his gaze falling on Citera who was smiling at him, obviously excited about her speedy recovery. Quickly he averted his gaze back to the floor. He couldn’t stand to face her; looking at her gave him an empty feeling inside, not only for what he had done to her, but also because she reminded him of Maya.
Mikel, still holding on to her, gazed down on Citera. “Well, we might as well make ourselves useful if we are going to be stuck inside all day. If you are feeling well enough, do you think you can help me repair some of the damage our large visitor here has done?”
“Actually, I was hoping I could borrow her for a little while,” K interrupted. “I would like her assistance in getting cleaned up. I need to get a bath or shower, something that involves a lot of soap and water. Also, if it isn’t too much of a bother, I need to find out if there are any clothes I can use, I don’t feel like wearing this thing anymore,” she explained, pulling on the front of the clinic gown with disgust.
“Sure,” Citera answered excitedly. “There is a shower upstairs in the apartment, and I think you might be able to wear some of my mom’s old clothes … if that’s okay with you?” she asked, turning to her father.
“That will be fine.” Turning, he addressed the Enforcer and Jaron, “I’ll be down the hall if the two of you need anything.”
Jarod, still bitter about being rendered immobile, shrugged and plopped back into the bed, kicking his feet over the end. “I guess I will wait here.”
“You need me to help you with the stairs?” Citera asked K after watching Jarod’s display of self-pity.
Standing, K shook her head. “I can make it.”
She managed the stairs without much difficulty as together they went through the living room, passing into the hallway, and into the bathroom at the end of the corridor. K took a seat on the lid of the toilet and began to work on getting whatever it was she had wound up in her hair out, while Citera turned on the shower to let the water begin to warm. Turning her attention to the cabinets, Citera rummaged around trying to locate a towel and washcloths, but none were to be found. With a groan, she turned to K. “We are out of towels, give me a second and I will go get some from the laundry room downstairs.”
“That’s fine, but before you go, do you mind untying this thing?” K asked, standing and turning her back to Citera to expose the ties on the back of the gown. She obliged, untying them one at a time, and when she pulled the last tie loose, the gown fell open to expose the bare skin on K’s thin back.
Citera threw her hand over her mouth to keep herself from gasping aloud. K was riddled with scars of past beatings and fights, much like Jarod. The lines crisscrossed her back in layers, along with multiple puncture marks and stab wounds, but that wasn’t what had caught her attention. As she continued to stare, she saw for the first time what it was that the inspectors were always looking for, what Jaron and Jarod had checked for, and what she now couldn’t take her eyes off of.
In the center of her back, directly between her shoulder blades, was a design that appeared to have been burned into her skin. It was made of bold black lines in the shape of a ring, a ring encased inside of an upside down triangle, and wrapped in what appeared to be a vine covered in thorns. And in the center of it all, standing out amongst the dark lines and pale skin, was what appeared at first glance to be a tear drop … that is, if the bright red color didn’t make it frightening clear that it was actually a drop of blood.
“My thanks.” Turning around and seeing the look on Citera’s face, K asked in her usual calm tone, “What’s the matter?”
“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean, it’s just,” Citera didn’t know what to say, and continued to struggle to find the words to explain herself. “I didn’t mean to be rude, to stare, but I’ve never seen …”
K said nothing as she watched Citera make a fool of herself by babbling incessantly. Then, as if suddenly aware of what had happened, she glanced over her own shoulder and spotting her own exposed back in the mirror, gave a deep sigh. “Oh, I see. Does it bother you? Normally I would have that masked, but with my current condition being less than optimal at the moment, I am, as you say, all exposed.”
“Of course not. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be impolite.” As she spoke Citera backed slowly toward the door. “I … I will go get the towels, I’ll be right back.”
Stumbling out of the bathroom she continued down the hall, happy to be out of the situation, but angry at her own behavior. Idiot, she thought to herself, and headed down the stairs to the laundry room. She hesitated a moment in front of the room where Jarod laid still staring at the ceiling, while he and Jaron chatted about some camp. She watched him for a moment laying there calmly, talking, and laughing at something Jaron had said when her mind flashed back to the look on his face during the night when he had her
in his grasp only moments away from killing her.
How can one person have two such different personalities? Remembering the scarring that covered the majority of both their bodies, she began to get a grasp on why he and K must be the way they were. She could only imagine the physical and undoubted mental abuse the two of them had suffered in their time. But where K could suppressed her emotions, willing herself to stay calm and composed, Jarod had been encouraged to feed off his anger, to relish in it, transforming him into the remorseless killer he had become. No wonder he carries so much anger, she thought as she continued on down the hall. He’s as scarred on the inside as he is on the outside.
The laundry room was a complete mess. Trudging over the mounds of clothes, it wasn’t hard to see that over the last couple of weeks, the daily chores had definitely fallen behind. Luckily it seemed Dirik had been at least attempting to keep up with a few things, and she found a stack of clean towels in the corner. Grabbing an armful, she made her way back up the stairs into the apartment and to the bathroom where the sounds of running water confirmed K was still inside. Standing outside the door, she thought it best not to intrude and called through the door, “K, I have the towels.”
“Bring them in and put them on the counter, please. I will be a while longer, my hair has a half century’s worth of knots and filth to deal with.”
Citera eased the door open, and once she was sure the coast was clear she ran in, dropped the towels on the counter, and darted out calling behind her, “I’m going down the hall to my dad’s room and try to find you some clothes.”
“All right then,” K replied. Citera thought she heard her say something else, but she was already down the hall and into her dad’s room.
In the corner of the bedroom was a wardrobe that hadn’t been opened since her mother’s death many months ago. Made with heavy wood and adorned with beautiful engravings of vines and roses, it was by far the most ornate piece of furniture they owned. Her mom had told her once that it was older than even the Shadows themselves, that it had been passed down to her from her mother, who had gotten it from her mother and so forth and so on.
K: The Awakening (The Shadow Chronicles Book 1) Page 23