Bad Blood

by Ren Hamilton

  “Not about rescuing us! That hasn’t changed, I’m sure of it. I have faith in Agent Litner. And I won’t leave without you.”

  Patrick did not share that faith, not fully, but he could see that it was all she was clinging to. “Okay. Let’s go. We stay strong, yeah? Bluff if we can. If not, say as little as possible.”

  Robin glanced up at the house. “I usually have better luck arguing with Shep if I keep asking questions until he loses his temper.”

  “Not this time,” Patrick said. “This is bigger than both of us. The only thing we know for certain is Shep’s going to lose his shit on us. We stay strong. We stay in control. And we wait for Walsh’s signal.”

  A shudder ran through Robin’s body, but she nodded. “The signal will still come, right?”

  “I’m sure it will,” he lied. “Let’s go.”

  It was a crazy scene in the kitchen when Patrick and Robin walked through the back door. All of the brothers, Shep included, were huddled in a sort of pig pile on the kitchen floor, hugging, squealing, and crying. All Patrick could see was a montage of limbs, tie-dyed shirts, and different colored curls.

  Joey watched the spectacle with crossed arms, looking bored. Finally, the huddle started to break apart and Patrick spotted Juris in the mass. Klee clung to him, a clone with his matching platinum hair. “Now we are five!” Klee said.

  “As it should be,” Juris answered, taking Klee’s head in his hands lovingly. He kissed the tears on Klee’s cheeks.

  Having regained his composure, Shep brushed himself off and backed away from the huddle. Juris stood straight and approached Shep, standing at attention before him like a loyal soldier awaiting a command. He was clearly subordinate to Shep, yet Juris had a confidence that surpassed the other brothers. Patrick understood something then that he hadn’t before. Juris was second in command. If Shep were to ever remove himself from this little group, Juris would surely be the boss.

  But right now, he faced Shep with open respect and humility. “Where were you, Juris?” Shep asked.

  “I see that you got Klee through unharmed,” Juris said. “My compliments. I’ve been so worried.”

  “Klee is fine. Where were you, Juris?”

  Juris didn’t seem at all pressured to answer Shep’s question until he was damn good and ready. He looked away from Shep and his green eyes scanned the company of the room, finally coming to rest on Patrick and Robin. He smiled coldly. “Well. Hail, Hail. The gang’s all here,” he said. Patrick’s stomach did a flip.

  Frustrated, Shep took Juris by the shoulders. “Answer me when I ask a question! Have you been gone so long you’ve forgotten your place?” Shep leaned his forehead against Juris’s. It was an odd gesture that Patrick had seen the brothers do often, as though they were directly driving their thoughts into the other’s skull. Shep’s dirty blond curls looked nearly brown next to Juris’s white ones.

  Juris pushed Shep off of him. Patrick was shocked, having never seen one of the brothers dare to even look at Shep with defiance. Shep did not react. Apparently, Juris was allowed such luxuries. “You know not what I have been through! I was a prisoner! I was held captive! I was restrained and kept from my freedom!”

  Shep’s face softened. “Oh my poor dear.” He reached out and Juris flinched, perhaps thinking Shep was going to strike him. Instead, Shep took Juris’s face in his hands and gently cradled it. “My poor, poor dear.” Shep leaned in and kissed Juris on the mouth. Tears streamed down Juris’s cheeks as he kissed Shep back. There was nothing sexual about this kiss, but there was such love and feeling behind it that the room went still.

  Shep took a step back then, his face serious. “Who did this to you, and please tell me that they no longer breathe this earth’s air.”

  “It was a priest,” Juris said.

  “I knew it!” Shep said. “I saw it in a vision. Tell me, who was this priest? Was it Father Bello of Saint Christopher’s?”

  Juris shook his head. “No, not him.” He walked over to Margol and reached out, brushing a strand of red hair back from his face. “I felt it when he hurt you. I felt it, Margol, but I could offer you no help. I was trapped.” Margol nodded, falling back into his trademark silence. Juris turned back to Shepherd. “It was Father Carbone of Saint Mary’s. The one you said was so harmless when we began this. The one whose church you chose for the project.”

  Shep stepped forward. “Father Carbone? That little Italian fireplug? You’ve got to be kidding me! Is he dead? Please tell me he’s dead.”

  Patrick heard Robin inhale sharply. Juris heard it too. He looked directly at Robin and said, “No, he is not dead. He is in the basement. His freedoms are restrained. I wish for him to experience what I did.”

  Shep’s jaw dropped and he shoved Juris. Juris slammed against the back wall of the kitchen. “You brought a priest into this house? Have you gone mad, Juris? It could bring the Schlarr or worse! Idiot!”

  Juris glared. “The priest needs to be punished! At my will!”

  Shep stormed toward Juris, who flinched but did not turn his head as Shep slapped him hard across the face. Klee ran to the corner and began to cry. “Have you lost your mind?” Shep asked through clenched teeth. “Have you lost your fucking mind?”

  Allisto piped up now. “You know better than to bring a priest here, brother!”

  Juris threw his head back. Placing his hands on the sides of his face, he shrieked that animalistic sound that made Patrick’s flesh crawl. Turning on Allisto now, Juris jabbed a finger into his chest. “They held me captive under a church, Allisto! A Schlarr came for me! A Schlarr came!”

  There was a group gasp among the brothers, Shep included. Juris nodded. “That’s right. A Schlarr came. It attacked me. It scratched my face.” Juris trailed his fingers along a thin, fading mark along his cheek.

  “You brain dead fuck,” Shep said. “A Schlarr came to his church. And knowing this, you bring him here, into this house? You threaten us all! I want you to get that priest out of here right now! Kill him if you have to, but get rid of him.”

  Patrick took a step forward but Robin grabbed his forearm, holding him back. Juris turned and looked at Patrick. “We have much more to discuss, Zirub.”

  Shep’s jaw dropped. “Do not call me by that name. Have you lost all your senses?”

  “The boy is alive,” Juris said, turning back to Shep.

  Shep froze. “What boy?”

  “The boy who had the photographs.”

  Patrick felt a tangible energy building in the kitchen. Juris was taking his time exposing them, savoring the moment, toying with them. Patrick could feel the chaos getting ready to erupt like a volcano, and he was right in the line of fire.

  Shep grabbed Juris by the wrist. “Be quiet now. Stop talking. Obrien, could you and Robin go upstairs? My brother Juris is confused about things. I need to speak to him in private.”

  Juris began to laugh. He turned his steely gaze onto Patrick, pure hatred in his eyes. The moment had come. “You need not send these two away, brother, and you need not censor your conversation for their sake,” Juris said. “Patrick and Robin know everything.”

  Shep shook his head, a deep crease forming between his eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

  Pointing a long finger at Patrick, Juris shouted, “Here are your betrayers, Zirub! They mean to destroy you! They plot against you as we speak!”

  Shep turned and stared at Patrick, then at Robin. His face was a combination of surprise and disbelief. He laughed and looked back at Juris. “Not possible.” Juris just nodded. Shep turned back and stared at Robin, his mouth curving into a frown. “That’s not possible,” he repeated.

  Robin laughed forcefully. “Shepherd, what the hell is he talking about?”

  Patrick caught her vibe. Maybe, just maybe, they could convince Shep that Juris was delusional, straight off his rocker. Could Powers become insane? Sure they could. Just look at Shep. Juris continued to point and scream. “These two are your enemies, Zirub! Your lover an
d your best friend! They were at the church where I was held. They have spoken with the lawmen! They were even in the cave the night the Klee was born.”

  Allisto looked shocked while Margol smiled smugly. The room fell silent. Shep drifted over to Patrick, his face a mask of uncertainty. “Obrien? Is Juris telling me the truth?”

  His voice cracked at the end, and Patrick’s heart sank. He’d expected rage, not tears. Trying with all his might to make his mind go blank, he answered, “I don’t know what he’s talking about, Shep. Your brother Juris is quite obviously insane.”

  Shep’s eyes narrowed and shifted back and forth rapidly, like he was reading a message printed on Patrick’s face. He took a step closer, staring into Patrick’s eyes with intense concentration. Then Shep’s expression flickered with some awareness, like he’d gotten the answer he was looking for. His mouth opened and he gasped, stumbling as his knees gave out.

  He almost fell, but Margol came forward and steadied him. Shep let out a short laugh, a shocked, angry sound, then he shook his head. “Do you know what, Obrien?” he asked, his voice choked with sadness.

  “What’s that, Shep?”

  “When you lie, your aura gets little green spots.”

  Patrick said nothing. He’d never seen a look quite like the one Shep now wore, and it simultaneously frightened him and broke his heart. Shep shook his head, then quickly shook it again, as though he could make it all go away. “How could you?” he asked, meeting Patrick’s eyes again. “How the hell could you?”

  Then Patrick understood how Wesley could have begged for Shep’s forgiveness even after Shep murdered his aunt. Shep’s shattered expression was almost more than he could bear. Patrick did not beg for forgiveness, however. He looked directly at Shep, and found his voice. “You didn’t leave me any choice.”

  He was waiting for Shep’s anger, but it didn’t come. He was waiting for a blow, but it didn’t come either. A tear ran down Shep’s cheek, then his eyes went hard—so hard that Patrick took a frightened step back. That one tear fell from Shep’s chin and shattered onto the floor, like the final drop of friendship left between them.

  Then the sadness was gone from Shep’s eyes, replaced with a hatred that chilled Patrick’s soul. “No choice? I gave you choices you could never have dreamed of without me. And you spit on them.” Shep’s fists clenched at his sides. “Och fee!”

  “Och fee!” Juris parroted. “Filthy betrayer.”

  Patrick flinched.

  Shep tore his horrible gaze away from Patrick and walked over to Robin. He leaned in and sniffed her hair. She flinched, and he leaned back and stared at her, then glanced over at Patrick as a light of realization flickered in his stony green eyes. “I see. I see what’s going on here now. You really can’t find your own girls, can you Obrien?” Shep turned back to Robin. He gripped her face between his fingers. “This is what you have forsaken me for? Obrien? This is what turned your heart cold toward me?”

  “No.” She slapped his hand away. “You turned my heart cold! All on your own.”

  Shep’s lips curled back from his gums, making him look feral. “I was going to offer you eternity! I was going to offer you immortality, when the time was right. Now! In this lifetime! But you’d rather fuck this stray dog.” He pointed to Patrick. “My own dog!”

  Robin flinched and covered her ears, tears springing free and rolling down her cheeks. “Stop it, you’re scaring me. Just stop it, Shep.”

  Patrick understood why she cracked. He’d never heard Shep’s voice sound that way, vibrating at an unnatural volume that echoed over the walls of the spacious kitchen and caused the windows to tremble. Even Joey scowled and rubbed his arms.

  “I knew I smelled something in that cave,” Shep said with disgust, his voice back to a normal timbre. He turned to Juris. “Get them out of my sight. I need time to think.”

  Juris, with Margol alongside him, closed in on Patrick and Robin. Joey jumped in front of Robin. “Wait a minute! What are you doing? Robin hasn’t done anything wrong.”

  “Step aside, Joseph,” Shep said. His voice was perfectly calm, as if all emotion had been drained from him and he now felt nothing.

  “You’re not touching my cousin,” Joey persisted. “You’re the one who broke your promise by involving her! I’ll throw in the towel, Shep. I’ll blow the whole thing.”

  Shep grabbed Joey by the arm. “She is trying to destroy us! Don’t you get it? Haven’t you been listening?”

  He released Joey. Joey looked at Robin, his brow furrowed. “That’s not true. You don’t want to stop us. Do you, Robin?” Robin dropped her gaze to the floor, and Joey’s face fell. “Oh, no. Robin, why?”

  “Jesus, Joey. How can you even ask me that?”

  “Take them downstairs!” Shep yelled. “Get them out of my sight before I fucking snap!”

  Margol and Juris approached them as Allisto went to console Klee, who was curled up in the corner like a frightened animal. Patrick and Robin went with Margol and Juris willingly. They knew the brothers could break them in half if they resisted. They were led toward the basement, stopping only once at a closet for rope. Juris tied their hands behind their backs as Margol stood by like a bodyguard. When Juris finished binding their arms, Margol shoved Patrick. “Down the stairs.”

  Patrick complied, remembering Margol’s threat to remove his intestines. He hoped the brother didn’t offer that up to Shep as a suggestion for their punishment.

  ****

  The basement was enormous, but Father Carbone and Copie were huddled close, beside each other against a wall, each with hands tied behind their backs. They had been listening to the sound of yelling and commotion coming through the floor above. “Well,” Carbone said. “I believe that would be the shit hitting the fan. I hope Patrick and Robin are all right.”

  Copie shivered. “Do you think Litner knows we’re here?”

  Father Carbone desperately wanted to tell Copie what he wanted to hear. The problem was his faith that everything was going to be all right had all but disappeared. His head still throbbed from the blow Juris had given him when he’d gone outside to check on the trash barrels. He’d never seen it coming.

  Next thing he knew he was waking up next to Copie in the back of a taxicab. Juris was driving. He’d stolen Carbone’s CD of Italian songs from the kitchen and popped it into the taxi’s cheap stereo. Juris sang joyously in perfect Italian as he drove, and the priest wondered what had happened to the driver, hoping Juris had simply stolen the cab and not killed anyone. Frankly, he was surprised Juris hadn’t killed them.

  Father Carbone had thought so much about these brothers, rejected from a higher realm and left in stasis indefinitely. He stayed awake many a night trying to imagine what it had been like for them. He’d pictured them floating in a watery darkness, the brothers curled up asleep in fetal position while Shep searched the darkness for what must have felt like infinity. “Copie, you had a direct confrontation with him. What is he like?”

  Copie frowned at him. “Who?”

  “Shepherd. Zirub. What is he like?”

  “Shep was trying to kill me at the time. We didn’t sit down and have tea together.”

  “Is he like Juris?”

  “Sort of. He’s more civilized though. I mean, he doesn’t spit or anything.”

  The door opened at the top of the basement stairs. Their eyes turned in frightened anticipation. The first thing they saw was Patrick and Robin, their wrists bound behind their backs. Soon after came Juris and a man that looked very much like him despite a fiery red cascade of curls. They led Patrick and Robin down into the basement and sat them along the wall next to Copie and Carbone. Robin gave Carbone a small smile and he nodded.

  Juris stepped back and looked at them all. “Well. This party is almost complete. All we need now is your lawman. He should be arriving soon. Don’t you think?”

  Patrick huffed. “Don’t be so smug, Juris. Litner wouldn’t waste his time coming here to rescue us.”

>   “Of course not. He doesn’t care about you. He wants the crop.” Juris grinned at him. “Yes, I know the plan. Your lawman is coming with a company of soldiers.”

  Patrick flinched.

  “Oh come now, Obrien. Did you really think you could outsmart us? Outsmart Shepherd? Don’t make me laugh.” Juris leaned into Father Carbone and touched his face. “Why, you look pale, Father. Don’t you like being held captive? I know what you need. Some chocolate!”

  Juris pulled a bag of chocolate Kisses out of his pocket and began whipping the tiny candies at Father Carbone. “Here you go priest! Have some chocolate! All better? Have some chocolate!” Father Carbone ducked his head, trying to dodge the incoming candies.

  “Stop it Juris!” Patrick screamed. “You’re being a baby!”

  Margol gave Patrick a kick and Patrick doubled over in pain. “You mind your business.”

  Father Carbone looked up as a third set of footsteps came down the stairs. Yet another curly-topped stranger rounded the corner. This one had platinum curls and looked nearly identical to Juris, despite a smaller frame and a few minor discrepancies in his facial features. He looked frightened and unsure of himself. “Juris?” he called out softly.

  Juris stopped pelting Father Carbone with candy and turned around. “What is it Klee?”

  “Shepherd wants you upstairs.”

  “I’ll be right there.”

  “He said now, Juris.”

  This one had soft, innocent eyes and a babyish chub to his cheeks and mouth. He looked like a true angel, Carbone thought. As if feeling the weight of his stare, Klee looked over at Father Carbone. The pretty young man-thing winced at the sight of him, as though the priest was some sort of threat.

  Juris threw the entire bag of candy at Father Carbone. “Fine. I’m going.” He stormed up the stairs with Margol following behind. Klee stood where he was, staring at the captives who sat with their backs against the wall. He stepped forward and knelt in front of Patrick, his cute face drawn into an angry pout. “How could you betray us, Patrick? Juris says there is going to be a war. You were supposed to be Shepherd’s friend.”