Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1)

by K. M. Carroll

  "What's in it? Your life savings?"

  "In a manner of speaking." He turned away to dismiss the subject, and gestured to the nearest hive, marked with a 23. "This is Queen Victoria. Victoria and subjects, this is Libby. Libby, say hello."

  Feeling silly, I said, "Hello, bees."

  Each hive was named after a British queen. Mal introduced me to all of them. The bees whirred around us, but nothing stung me.

  "Your bees are really tame."

  "I'm not a commercial beekeeper."

  "What are you doing here, then?"

  "We needed the money." He said we as if the bees were his family. "And your father's farm is a sustainable farm, not a monoculture."

  He pointed to a strip of overgrown brush in the center of the orchard. It was planted with every color of lantana, and weird coastal flowers like statice that bloomed in the winter. Chattering sparrows flew in and out.

  "My bees need forage while the orchard awakens. In the meantime, I feed them good honey, not corn syrup." He lifted the lid off a hive, and slid out a frame a few inches. It swarmed with a brown mass of bees, all crawling and buzzing the way bees do. The frame had the beginnings of wax honeycomb in the premade holes.

  This guy was crazy about his bugs. I tried to mesh beekeeper Mal with claw-glove Mal, and creeper on the roof Mal. "Um, so, about last night..."

  "Yes." He slid the frame back into the hive and replaced the lid, then straightened and gazed at me. "You said Robert gave you the box?"

  Of course, he wasn't going to explain tracking the box to my room.

  I shifted my weight from foot to foot. "Yeah, and he sent a note that said I should try to open it."

  Mal stood dead still, and his face blanked. For a moment I thought he was going to punch me. Then his eyebrows scrunched in an expression of pain. The skin around his mouth shaded toward green. "I see you tried."

  "I didn't get very far," I said in my defense. "Only until I found the paper with your name and address."

  For a moment I forgot my vampire theory. The guy looked like he was about to puke. I stepped back a prudent distance. Worse than that, though, was the knowledge that I should have given it back to him immediately. It was inlaid with silver, after all--clue number one that it was valuable.

  He laid a hand on Queen Elizabeth's hive, as if steadying himself, and drew a deep breath. The greenish tinge in his face faded back into normal waxy skin tone. "Yes. Well. No harm was done."

  "Harm?" I exclaimed. "What's in the box, a bomb?"

  He shook his head, and his eyes shaded to hazel. "My most precious possession. If I had lost it, I would die."

  Figuratively, or literally? I opened my mouth to ask, then shut it again. Maybe I didn't really want to know.

  He squinted at me, as if trying to see me clearly. "Are you and Robert ...?"

  "We're dating," I said frostily, "but I'm breaking up with him as soon as I get my strength back."

  He nodded, as if he approved. Then he walked to a hive standing by itself and opened the lid. I blinked. It was a trunk. But I could have sworn it was a hive a second ago.

  He pulled out a tiny jar of honey, about the size of a baby food jar, and held it out to me. "Some of my own raw honey. It will be better if you eat honey from flowers in your area, but it will be weeks before my bees have collected enough to harvest."

  I took the jar and tilted it toward the light. A piece of honeycomb swirled in the gold, surrounded by tiny bubbles. Yellow sugar had collected at the bottom. "It's pretty."

  "Honey is a healing food," he said as he gently closed the chest. "It contains many trace minerals and silica that are of enormous benefit to the immune system."

  I'd been sick so long. My hopes rose. "Do you think this will help me get well?"

  "Yes." He said it with a certainty no doctor had ever used.

  Even if all it did was ease the nausea and let me eat food, it was worth it. I tucked it securely into my coat pocket. "Do you mind if I go now? I want to taste it right away."

  He nodded. "Be my guest."

  As I called Suki to the cart and drove away, I gripped the honey jar. Mal had given me a gift, even after I'd unwittingly tried to break into his private property. Dangerous ex-convict or not, there was something kind about him. A softening in his voice as he addressed the bees.

  Whatever was in that box affected him deeply. The only person I'd ever seen look like that was my brother, when his kid fell in the canal and we almost couldn't fish him out.

  My logical mind assured me that people who climbed onto roofs at night couldn't be trusted.

  But darn it, I wanted to like him. Especially if this honey helped me feel better.

  Mal

  After Libby departed, I went in search of my brother. I needed to speak with him and discover what he was up to.

  I drove my camper around Arvin with the windows rolled down. Many odors struck my nose, but none were the particular reek of Robert Seren. Arvin did not impress me--suburbs built in the 60s and 70s, little shopping districts, a park here and there. Just another little town in the San Joaquin valley, surrounded for miles by farmland, with the shoulders of the Sierra Nevadas looming over it.

  It might have been picturesque had not the air pollution and lingering fog blanketed everything in dismal gray.

  I spotted a yellow hummer with a broken side window parked outside a red brick high school. I trundled the motor home into a far corner of the parking lot. Then I set off on foot, with my hands buried in my windbreaker's pockets. One might almost mistake me for a student, if one did not look too closely at my eyes.

  It was noon recess, and the teenagers clustered in groups, talking, snacking, or in some cases, studying. It was not difficult to locate Robert. He had surrounded himself with girls.

  I loitered outside the fence and pulled my hood up. Robert was twenty feet from the fence--too far away for me to hear him. But his mouth moved, and the females hung on his every word. An attractive bunch, all with similar-length hair with similar styles, and tight-fitting blouses to show off newly-acquired feminine figures. I admired them, myself, in the distant, logical way of an art critic.

  Robert took a girl's hand and lifted it to his lips. She jumped as if stung by a wasp, then laughed.

  I gripped the fence with one hand, and my fingers curled until the wire bent out of shape.

  It must have made a sound, because Robert looked up. His smile twisted into a sneer. He spoke to the girls, then stepped between them and strode toward me. "Hello, Mal."

  "Hello, Robert." I kept my voice low, and he had to move close to the fence to hear me. "You are overfeeding."

  He tilted his head back and laughed. "That's rich! You hunted me down to lecture me on my diet?"

  I waved a hand at the waiting girls. "What happened to choosing targets? Has the Necromancer grown so careless that he forgets to monitor you?"

  He folded his arms, and his stance turned defensive. "The Necromancer lets me do what I want, as long as I don't cause trouble. Same as you."

  For an instant, I saw my brother as the child he had been, defying me to tell on him after he had ridden his bicycle into the lake and lost it. He had been my friend, my little shadow. We built forts, explored the woods, and rode our bikes for miles through the Pennsylvania woodland.

  And now here we stood, monsters, struggling to make our way in a world oblivious to our hunger. No wonder God himself had abandoned me.

  Until yesterday.

  I struggled to keep my voice even. "You must not spread the infection this way. Look at what you've done to Libby."

  He glanced over his shoulder at his waiting victims, then bared his white teeth. "Don't tell me how to live my life, Malevolent. Pull your claws on me, push me around, fine, whatever. You try to take Libby from me, I'll make you pay." He spun on his heel and stalked back to his entourage.

  Fury shook my limbs. Rather than tear through the fence and follow, I stormed away with my fists in my coat pockets. Heat warmed my fac
e and my heart pumped death power into my blood, drawing in the life of the grass underfoot, nearby bushes, anything alive.

  No! Not this. I breathed deeply until the power draw waned. By the time I had mastered myself, I had circled the entire school property twice. Tomorrow there would be a trail of dead grass as if someone had poured bleach everywhere.

  Robert must have fed upon Libby for a long time for her illness to be so extreme. Usually the vampiric corruption manifested as an itchy throat, a cough, perhaps, and a feeling of malaise that came and went. Not debilitating illness that confined the victim to bed.

  The worst of the infection would not manifest until the Necromancer raised his hand to summon their souls.

  Libby had once looked like these girls--healthy, pretty, and vivacious. But now hollows ringed her eyes, and her choices in clothing reflected her state of being: loose, formless things that one could wear during sleep. Yet her spirit burned on, unbroken.

  Judgment, and mercy; God had only required that I save one life, not all.

  I returned to the motor home, panting a little, with sweat cooling my back. My anger hardened into choice: to wrench a single life from the edge of undeath.

  I rested my forehead on the steering wheel. What did Libby see when she looked at me? A terrifying man who had tried to break into her room? She no doubt sensed my true nature, for she often looked at me as if searching out my secrets. Doubtless her father had told her of my time in prison.

  She had every right to be wary of me. I despise what I have become, despite my efforts to delay the inevitable. The Marchers rightfully imprisoned me, after I had broken through one of their barriers to steal valuable property.

  But I had not specified to Libby's father what sort of prison it had been.

  Chapter 4

  Libby

  I ate honeycomb for dinner. I wish I could say I ate it on bread, but no. I sat at the table with the jar and a spoon, and ate every drop.

  To her credit, Mom tried. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a piece of toast?"

  "No thanks," I said through a delicious sticky mouthful of honey and wax. "No wonder Winnie the Pooh eats honey all the time."

  Something about the golden flavor fed a craving I didn't know I had. I finished the honeycomb and licked honey off my spoon. It was sticky and wholesome and a little grainy, where it had turned to sugar. Glorious warmth filled my stomach.

  Mom retrieved my medication from the fridge, and I gulped the pills with milk. Then I went upstairs to bed, because the meds usually made me sleepy.

  Not tonight. I detoured to the computer and spent three hours scoring head shots with Tiffany in an online shooter. Other players texted me swears and death threats. It was wonderful.

  "You seem different tonight," Tiffany messaged me. "Look at that score!"

  "I feel better," I wrote back. "I had honey for dinner."

  She replied, "LOL sugar."

  When I finally went to bed, I slept deep and hard. When I woke at dim, foggy sunrise, it took a while to pry my eyes open. But when I finally crawled out from under the blankets, my strength had returned. I had the energy to take a shower and even put on makeup. My stomach growled--food sounded good again! I was well!

  What in the world had been in that honey?

  When Mom asked what I wanted for breakfast, I opened the fridge and began pulling out omelet ingredients.

  She watched me with her mouth open.

  "Seriously Mom, I think I'm well. I'm starving, and I haven't been hungry in ages." I broke three eggs into a measuring cup and threw in some frozen hash browns and mushrooms.

  Mom watched me warily. "You may not be able to keep it down."

  "Oh, it'll stay down." I beat the potatoes, mushrooms and eggs together into a runny mess, then poured it into a skillet and turned on the burner.

  Ten minutes later I wolfed down my omelet, and it was the best thing I'd tasted in months, aside from the honey. Now I wished I'd saved some for toast, because toast with butter and honey is one of the finest things in life. So were those eggs--fluffy, savory, and perfect with a spoonful of salsa.

  I had to ask Malachi about his awesome honey. He took special care of his bees, but would that make honey of such superior quality? I mean, I was well. I'd been sick for ages,and the medication had done next to nothing. How could a tiny amount of honey affect me like this?

  "Can I have that honey jar?" I asked as I loaded my dishes into the dishwasher. "I want to return it."

  Mom's face crinkled in worry. "Your father told you to stay away from that Malachi character."

  "I'm just returning a jar, Mom. And I want to ask him what's in that honey. Maybe I can get more."

  Mom's face softened. This was the first time I'd improved, after all. "All right. Take your cellphone. If anything happens..."

  "I'll be fine, Mom. If it makes you feel any better ..." I whipped out my knife and flipped open the gleaming blade in one smooth motion. "It's not a stake, but I don't think vampires would want to be stuck with this, either."

  Mom eyed the knife and sighed. "All right. Just be careful."

  Outdoors it was warm and moist, and the almond blossoms filled the air with scent. They weren't even fully budded out yet. I felt so good, I decided to walk to the bee station. I used to run all over the farm when I was well, and almond trees are fun to climb.

  I let Suki out of the yard and stuffed her leash in my coat pocket. She ran into the orchard ahead of me, barking and sniffing the tree trunks. Then she ran back, grinning, with white petals stuck in her black coat. I scratched her ears and thumped her sides. She jumped around me for sheer joy, as if she sensed how much better I felt. I growled at her and got her riled up, then laughed as she sprinted in circles around me with her tongue out.

  I'd forgotten what it was like to live.

  The bee station was deserted, and a lot of the other hives had been moved deeper into the orchard, but the air was full of bees. I walked by Mal's collection of hives. "Hello, queens! It's just me, Libby. Thank you for your honey. It's made me well."

  Their drone changed pitch, almost like they answered me. It sounded ... musical. Maybe Mal wasn't as nuts as I thought, talking to the bees like people. I gave them a wide berth anyway.

  I followed the edge of the orchard around toward the Christmas tree plantation on the north side of the farm. The sweet aroma of blossoms mingled with the fresh scent of pine resin, and I inhaled it deeply. The smell of spring--the very aroma seemed to fill me with energy.

  I struck the access road and spotted Mal's tacky brown and orange camper. It was parked at the side of the road, the wheels supported on planks to keep it level.

  As I approached, the door swung open and Mal stepped out. Maybe it was the sunlight, but today he looked even thinner than before, with hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes. His chin stuck out like a spike, and he wore a straw hat to keep off the sun. But as he looked at me, his eyes flashed a bright, cheerful green. "Hello, Libby."

  "Hi, Mal. I brought back your jar." I handed it to him.

  He took it and set it inside the camper. "Thank you. Did you enjoy it?"

  "Very much! I think it made me well!" I did a little dance on the spot.

  He gazed at me for a long moment. "Yes, you seem much improved."

  Suki frisked around us and approached Mal with her head and tail down, collie-language for uncertainty. He offered her the back of his hand. She sniffed it, then trotted to me and sat down, as if she were trying to be protective and friendly at the same time. It was enough to remind me of my old suspicions.

  "Let me know if you feel sick again, and I shall give you more honey." His voice was courteous, but he stared through me, as if his mind was elsewhere.

  "Okay. Thanks." And because I was well, I indulged my old habit of talking too much. "Are you a vampire?"

  Mal's eyes focused on me and changed to amber. "What?"

  I laughed to show I wasn't serious, but my mouth kept going. "Oh, you know, you're so pale,
and you never let the sun touch you."

  He touched the brim of his hat. "I burn easily."

  "So do vampires! Foom, they go up in flames. And you never explained how you move so fast." Crap, why had I said that? I was curious, yes, but not this much. It was my annoying habit of finding a point of conflict and beating on it until it gave way.

  He said nothing, but he turned away and gazed across the orchard with his arms folded, as if my words hurt him.

  My conscience whispered at me to shut up, but my mouth wouldn't stop. "And you're still avoiding explaining! I've read all the books, you know, and it fits."

  I kept expecting him to realize I was kidding, and to joke along with me. Instead, I was offending him. As if he really was a vampire. Why couldn't I shut up? I clamped my mouth closed.

  He smiled a thin, tight smile. "If you wish to learn about vampires, you should ask your friend Robert."

  "Rob's not a vampire. He goes out in the sun all the time." But I was nervous now. I stroked Suki and avoided looking at Mal.

  Mal closed and locked the camper door with slow, deliberate movements, as if giving himself time to think. "How long have you dated him?"

  "Since September, so just over six months."

  An emotion flickered across Mal's face. Pain? Anger? But it vanished before I could identify it. He walked toward the bee station, and I followed him in relief at the change of subject. Suki trotted alongside, ears up.

  "Libby, how often does he kiss you?"

  Wow, that was totally none of his business. I rolled my eyes. "What, is this one of those conversations about how nice girls don't kiss boys?"

  "No." He sounded matter of fact, like when my dad talks about finances. "He disguises his feeding with kisses. Yesterday I saw him kissing the hand of a girl at the local high school."

  I knew he messed with other girls--it was one reason I planned to dump him. But ... my stomach curled as if I had looked over the edge of a high cliff. Feeding?

  Woodenly I said, "He does that. He's such a flirt."