Bloodline

by F. Paul Wilson

  5

  Jeremy watched Hank as he stood at a window and peeked through the blinds.

  “You sure you weren’t followed?”

  “Absolutely.”

  No way was Jeremy absolutely sure, but he was reasonably sure. He wasn’t exactly an expert at this sort of thing. But he’d made a lot of turns coming down here to this Lower East Side Kicker crib, and he’d watched carefully the whole way. He hadn’t seen anyone following him.

  Hank let the blind slat drop and turned to him.

  “All right, what’s so important that we couldn’t discuss this over the phone?”

  “Like I told you, someone’s been testing my DNA and knows I’m related to Moonglow.”

  “So she knows—?”

  “Yeah, she knows. Question is, how long before he tests my DNA against the girl’s?”

  Hank pressed his palms against the sides of his head and began to walk in a circle about the room.

  “Oh hell! Oh damn! Oh shit! Who is this guy? We’ve got to get to him, make him stop!”

  “Vecca and Levy already tried that. Paid him off but he still keeps snooping. Almost like he’s got some sort of hard-on for me. I mean, like it’s personal.”

  Even though Jerry Bethlehem hadn’t been around long enough for anyone to have something personal against him, the thought didn’t sit well.

  “Yeah. Funny, I’ve run into someone like that too.”

  Here we go. Can’t let this get too far from rich, famous, too-important-to-get-my-hands-dirty Hank. His attitude sucked. Jeremy resisted the urge to pop him one.

  “Well, unless he’s threatening to take a shit in the Bloodline, like my guy, maybe we should forget about him for the moment.”

  “Okay, okay. What do we do?”

  “Well, since I’ve never seen him, we’ll have to try to beat him at his own game. That’s where you come in.”

  Hank’s tone turned cautious. “Yeah?”

  “Well, he’s been following me. So what we do is have you follow me too, only you’ll know where I’m going so you can hang back and watch for anyone on my tail.”

  Hank was nodding. “Sounds like a plan.” Then he frowned. “But what do we do when we find him?”

  “Then we follow him. And we convince him that he doesn’t want to stick his nose in my life anymore.”

  “And if he doesn’t listen?”

  Jeremy shrugged. “Then he disappears.”

  Hank was shaking his head. “Oh, no. Not while I’m within a hundred miles. Include me out.”

  Jeremy felt his temper heating.

  “You gonna let me down again, bro? You gonna let Daddy down again too?”

  He remembered his talks with his daddy whenever he’d come to visit. A scary man, Daddy, what with that patch over his bad eye and the way he’d fix him with the bright blue of his good one. But once he got talking, his smooth voice would wrap around Jeremy and caress him like a warm breeze, making the scaredness go away. Jeremy knew he’d inherited some of Daddy’s gift for persuasion, but only some.

  Daddy knew things no one else knew, saw things with his dead eye that no one else saw. He’d talk of gods—not the gods that everyone had heard of. Those were just stories, he’d said. He spoke of other gods, the Others, locked out from the world, waiting for ages to return.

  He told of the special blood that ran through his veins, and ran through his children’s. They all were part of a special Bloodline that made them shine in the eyes of the Others, but their Bloodline had been diluted and polluted over the ages. It had to be concentrated and purified.

  Daddy would tell him over and over about his Plan to do just that, and about the parts Jeremy and his half brother Hank were to play, and how together with a girl named Moonglow they would create the Key, a pure-blooded child who would unlock the gates that prevented the Others from returning to the Earth and reclaiming it.

  And when they did return they would reward those of the Bloodline who had made it possible. Daddy would ascend to the throne of Earth and Jeremy and Hank would be his princes.

  Daddy’s soothing voice had stayed with Jeremy, repeating the story and the things they must do to bring the Plan to fruition, and left him with never a moment’s doubt of its truth. But then Daddy stopped coming around. He’d warned that there might come a day when that happened, and he’d made Jeremy swear by the blood of the prince within him that he’d see the Plan through to its finish.

  Jeremy had sworn. So had Hank. But obviously Hank’s promises didn’t mean much.

  “We’re not going to get into this again, are we?” Hank said. “I told you—”

  “You told me you had your own thing going and that Daddy could shove his Bloodline up his ass!”

  “I never said anything of the sort. What I’m doing is just as necessary to the Plan as what you’re doing.”

  “Bullshit! The Plan was this: I knocked up Moonglow, so you were supposed to knock up her kid.”

  Hank rolled his eyes. “I know, but I’m identified with the Kicker movement—right now the movement is me—and I can’t risk getting involved with knocking up an eighteen-year-old.”

  “So I’m left with the job of fucking my own kid.”

  Hank smiled. “And doing a damn fine job of it too.”

  Jeremy felt heat rush into his face as his hands curled into fists. “You son of a—”

  “Easy now. You got the job done, didn’t you? And as for boffing your own kid—first off, if she’s eighteen she’s not a kid; and second, it’s not like you raised her or anything, or saw her even once when she was growing up. She was a complete stranger when you met her.”

  Jeremy felt himself relax a little. Hank had a point. Dawn could just as easily have been someone else’s kid.

  “That may be, but it didn’t stop me from feeling weird and maybe even a little perverted the first few times.”

  “That’s because in the everyday world it’s a big taboo, and everyone’s all uptight about it because if you do that sort of thing too much you can wind up with a bunch of FLKs.”

  “Eff-ell—?”

  “Funny-looking kids. But because you two share the Bloodline, that changes all the rules. That means it’s not only okay, it’s necessary for you two to get together and have a kid.”

  “It also means that I had to do everything myself. I had to kidnap her, I had to get her pregnant, I had to keep her from getting an abortion, and I wound up getting sent up for life for it!”

  Realizing he was shouting, he clammed up.

  He remembered his confusion at the time. Hell, he was only nineteen when he’d tracked Moonglow to Atlanta. He tried to get in touch with Hank to tell him the good news, but Hank was nowhere to be found. They’d been meeting maybe every six months, talking about how to carry through Daddy’s Plan, and now he seemed to have vanished—just like Daddy had.

  But somehow he’d known Hank was still alive, somehow he’d sensed him out there.

  Hank said, “I would have helped you if I could have, bro. You know that.”

  “But I didn’t know it then. I knew you wasn’t dead, so I thought you’d run out on me.”

  He later found out that Hank was in jail, but he’d been pretty shaken at the time.

  Hank shook his head. “Never. But isn’t it strange, this connection we have? I know you’re around, and you know I’m around. Weird, huh?”

  “Yeah. Weird. But that made it all the worse when I had to do everything myself.”

  “I wish I could’ve been there with you, bro. Things would have been different then, and they’d be different now.”

  Damn right, they’d be.

  The Plan had been for Hank to charm his way into Moonglow’s pants and get her pregnant. They’d marry and have the baby. If it wasn’t a girl, they’d try again. When they finally had one and she grew old enough to have a baby of her own, Jeremy would move in. One way or another—by charm or by force—Hank’s daughter would have Jeremy’s child.

  And that child
would change the world.

  But Jeremy had panicked when he couldn’t find Hank. He had no confidence in his ability with girls. That was Hank’s strong suit, not his. Or so he’d thought at the time. He now knew that he could turn on the charm just as well as his older brother.

  Not knowing what else to do, afraid that Moonglow might get knocked up by some other guy, he’d chosen the only route he could think of—the most direct. And when she’d started looking for an abortionist, he’d done the same.

  He’d never believed he’d get caught. When he did he’d thought the Others had deserted him.

  But then, last year had come word of a special therapy that the high-ups at Creighton wanted to test. And the testing would require that Jeremy be freed into the world.

  He’d known then that the Others hadn’t deserted him. They’d only been waiting for the proper moment. They’d arranged for him to be released in time to help Hank do the final purification of the Bloodline by fathering the miracle child.

  But Hank had balked. His Kickers were more important.

  “I still can’t believe how when it came to choosing between the Bloodline and these losers, you chose them.”

  “What I’m doing, I’m doing for the Bloodline. In my dream—”

  “I don’t want to hear about any stupid dreams.”

  “You keep saying that, but it’s time you listened. I keep having this dream about a baby. It’s in danger. It’s screaming in fright. And then along comes the Kicker Man, and he takes it in his arms, and it stops crying. How do you interpret that, Jer?”

  Jeremy felt a chill as he pictured the powerful image. If it really was a dream, he could see only one way to interpret it, but he couldn’t bring himself to say it.

  “I interpret that as your way of easing a guilty conscience, or, better yet, making excuses for yourself.”

  Hank took a step closer. “The dream is real, Jer. It’s been coming to me off and on for the past year, and every night for the past two weeks. Every night.”

  “So?”

  “So, how long has Dawn been pregnant?”

  Jeremy got another chill, stronger this time, as he remembered the instructions on the testing kit’s box saying it took a minimum of two weeks after the start of pregnancy to turn positive.

  He hated giving him the answer. “Two weeks or so, I’d guess.”

  Hank grinned. “Doesn’t that tell you something?”

  “It tells me you’re kidding yourself.”

  “It’s a message from the Others and you know it. I couldn’t be sure before, but it’s clear as day now: They sent me the sign of the Kicker Man and inspired me to write my book, and now they’re telling me why: Because the Kickers are going to pave the way for the return of the Others. But they have an even more important mission than that: They’re gonna protect that baby from the enemies of the Bloodline.”

  Could Hank be right? Was all this Kicker shit part of the Plan to bring back the Others? Were they some sort of palace guards, or maybe the shock troops of the Others?

  Was that Hank’s job—captain of the guard? Then who was he—father of the Key?

  Yeah. Father of the Key. That sounded pretty good. Maybe all this was going to work out right after all.

  As long as no one got in their way.

  “You think there really are Enemies out there like Daddy told us about?”

  Hank’s expression was grim. “I’ve given this a lot of thought. Daddy told us plenty of stuff that would sound crazy to other people, stuff that other people would laugh at. But we believe it. Why?”

  “Because Daddy told us, and because it’s the truth.”

  “Yeah, we believe it’s the truth, but why do we believe these things that no one else believes? That no one else has even heard of?”

  Jeremy was losing patience. “I’m sure you’re gonna tell me.”

  “It’s because the Bloodline is so strong in us. We heard these things and we believe them because our blood knows they’re true. That’s why, even though I’ve never seen an Enemy, I know they’re out there. And so do you.”

  Jeremy found himself nodding. Yes, he did know. Daddy had talked about Enemies of the Others who had almost killed off the Bloodline in the past and would try again.

  “You think that’s what happened to Daddy? You think it wasn’t an accident—that the Enemies got to him?”

  “I don’t know what else to think.”

  He’d known Hank was still alive when he couldn’t find him back in Atlanta. He just didn’t know where. He remembered having a feeling as a little kid that Daddy wouldn’t be coming back because he wasn’t…there anymore.

  Hank said, “Those bastards have probably been looking for us ever since.”

  And then Jeremy had an unsettling thought. “This guy that’s been dogging my trail, testing my DNA…do you think he could be one of the Enemies?”

  Hank started pacing again. “Could be…could be…” He stopped and stared at him. “Shit!”

  “What?”

  “The guy who stole my book—I’ll bet he was one. As a matter of fact I’m sure he was.”

  “What book?”

  “It’s a long story. Suffice it to say it was old and contained a drawing of the Kicker Man. Might even had contained information on where it came from—something I’d really like to know—but it’s gone now, stolen away by a guy who pretended to be a reporter.”

  “Hey. Maybe the guy after me is just pretending to be a detective. Maybe he’s just pretending to work for Moonglow when what he’s really doing is hunting down the Bloodline.”

  Hank spun and kicked the wall. “Shit! What does yours look like?”

  “Never seen him. But I got a description from Vecca.”

  Hank barked a harsh laugh. “Vecca! That vampire bitch. You gonna believe anything you hear from her?”

  “She seemed pretty pissed that someone was testing my DNA. Like they were horning in on her territory.”

  “Her territory—that’s us, all right. She’s always seemed like a big eye gazing down on the rest of us through a microscope. I mean, don’t you get the feeling when she looks at you that she’s not seeing a person, but just a conglomeration of cells?”

  Jeremy stared at his brother. He’d nailed Vecca—to the nth degree. But damned if he was going to hear that from Jeremy.

  “That’s downright poetic, Hank. Maybe you should try your hand at being a writer someday.” He got a kick out of Hank’s reddening face. “But there’s a chance we’ve got a couple of Enemies bird-dogging us, so why don’t we stick to that?”

  “All right. Let’s do that. What did Vecca say yours looked like?”

  “She wasn’t much help. My age, brown hair, brown eyes, and about average height.”

  Hank frowned. “That could describe my guy too.”

  “Maybe they’re the same guy—or twins.”

  Hank snapped his fingers. “Twins! Did Daddy ever mention twins to you?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “He did to me. Said the chief Enemies were twins. Do you think these could be the guys he was talking about?”

  “One way to find out: You trail me back to Queens and see if anyone’s following me.”

  Hank glanced at his watch and shook his head. “Sorry, bro. I’m supposed to speak to a Kicker gathering in about an hour.”

  Jeremy stiffened. Hank wasn’t going to leave him high and dry again.

  “So? Cancel it.”

  “No can do. This is a big crowd. Been set up for weeks. I can’t back out now.”

  Jeremy felt that familiar heat again. “I’ve got an Enemy chewing my ass who could mess up everything. If he finds out I’m Dawn’s father and goes and tells her, the shit will really hit the fan. She’ll go running back to her momma and start looking to get an abortion. I can’t go knocking off abortionists again, Hank. That worked once, but it won’t work again. I do one and the Creighton folks’ll be all over me. That’ll leave the dirty work to you. Got a gun, Hank
?”

  Hank seemed unmoved.

  “I’ll come out your way tomorrow and follow you around all day if you want. But today is out of the question.”

  He realized if he stayed here another second he’d be strangling Hank. He turned and headed for the door.

  “Fuck you!”

  6

  Jeremy kept a death grip on the Miata’s steering wheel as he crossed the Williamsburg Bridge. He shifted his gaze between the road ahead and his rearview mirror, keeping an eye on a silver PT Cruiser that had been staying two cars behind him since he’d left the Lodge.

  Was that an Enemy? The so-called detective? Or just another guy on his way to Brooklyn?

  Fuck Hank for weaseling out and making him do this all on his own. They were supposed to be a team, damn it.

  He tried to see through the PT’s windshield but the glare reduced the driver to a featureless silhouette.

  Damn! If he could just get—

  He glanced at the road, saw red lights, and slammed on his brakes. As his car screeched to a halt just inches shy of the bumper ahead of him, he heard other tires screeching behind him and braced for a rear-end collision.

  It never came. The cars stopped in time. He checked for the PT, saw it pull out into an open lane and roll by to his right. The college-age girl behind the wheel didn’t even glance his way as she passed.

  He pounded his steering wheel. He could have been killed. And then what? Would Dawn keep the baby—the Key—if he was gone?

  Like hell. She didn’t seem all that crazy about being pregnant. In fact, she seemed downright unhappy about it.

  The Key…aborted…its remains tossed out like garbage.

  Unthinkable.

  He heard a toot and looked around to see that his lane was moving again. Keeping his eyes trained on the road, he resumed his trip. But his thoughts remained on the enemy.

  Average height…brown hair…brown eyes—

  “Shit!” he cried.

  Joe Henry…the guy hanging around Work…the video gamer. He fit Vecca’s description to a T. But lots of guys did. He bet he could wander through Work and—

  Shit!—the guy had been reading Hank’s book. That clinched it. He knew they were brothers. All a fucking setup.