Planet Urth Boxed Set

by Jennifer Martucci

  “The one Arianna blazed with her eyes?” Luke hissed.

  “Tell him, Arianna. Tell him about the guy on fire!” Stephanie pleaded.

  “Was the guy on fire?” Luke asked Arianna looking equal parts embarrassed and annoyed to be asking

  “There was fire,” she admitted. “He lit a cigarette while he was, you know, on top of her. After I got the other guy off me, and I saw that he’d hit his head and wasn’t moving, I ran over to Stephanie. When I did, she started fighting back and hit into his arm. It must have dropped down his shirt or something because the guy lit up like a Roman candle.”

  Arianna could still hear his tortured screams in her mind, see him flailing about to try to extinguish the flames lapping his body.

  “See! I was telling the truth, asshole!” Stephanie shouted at Luke and interrupted Arianna’s recollection.

  “How badly was he burned? Did he get away?” Mike asked.

  “I don’t see how,” Arianna answered truthfully. “Whatever was on his shirt, maybe cologne or gasoline or something, burned so damn fast. He was covered in flames. I didn’t stick around to see what would happen. I just grabbed Steph and ran.”

  Stephanie began sobbing again, gasping and trying to catch her breath, the memory of it all too painful for her to bear.

  “Holy shit!” Christa said.

  “Should we call the cops or something?,” Carrie asked.

  “Yeah, this is all too crazy. These guys should be locked up, if they’re alive,” Christa said.

  “No. No cops,” Luke said determinedly. “If those scumbags are alive, I want a piece of them for trying to rape my sister and my girlfriend.”

  Arianna supposed she should have been happy that Luke had announced to his friends that she was his girlfriend; it was the first time he’d said it, yet she did not feel even the slightest bit of happiness. In fact, she felt troubled by it. Apart from the circumstances that had instigated his announcement, she was upset by it. She wasn’t sure why exactly, but felt shame at his admittance, at his want to defend her against her attackers. Guilt gave way to anxiety and anxiety clawed its way into her lungs, making it hard for her to breathe. She attempted a deep breath, desperate to not let her nerves get the better of her and make her sick all over the nightclub floor. Not that she doubted that the floor had seen its fair share of vomit on it in the past. She just didn’t want to be among those who had actually done the vomiting.

  “You okay, Arianna?” Carrie asked and took hold of her arm. “You don’t look so good.”

  “I’m all right,” Arianna said, but remained unconvinced.

  “Then what are we waiting for?” Bulldog asked. “Let’s go pound on those fuckers!”

  Bile rose in the back of her throat, along with the beer she’d drank earlier.

  “No!” she heard herself say and surprised everyone. “We can’t.”

  “Why the hell not? These guys tried to rape you two,” Luke argued.

  “The guy that was on fire is probably dead,” Arianna blurted out.

  Deep within her, an innate instinct portended that one of the men lived, that one had survived her counterattack, but barely. Still, she needed to dissuade them from going into that alleyway. Too many questions would be asked, questions she could not answer. Lying was not her strong suit. She was terrible at it, in fact. But she needed to convince them to leave.

  “Let’s make sure then,” Luke said.

  “And if the cops happen to find the nine of us hovering around a couple of dead bodies what do you think they’ll assume?” she asked. No one offered any thoughts, so she continued. “They’ll assume we, at the very least, saw something. Then they might ask why Stephanie looks like she does, why she has that fresh cut on her throat. Do you see where I’m going with this?”

  “They’ll think something happened and we retaliated by killing them,” Ryan said.

  “I don’t want to spend any time in county lockup,” Bulldog said as if he’d been there before.

  “Neither do I,” Mike added. “My brother’s been there overnight and he said it’s no joke.”

  Luke looked directly into Arianna’s eyes and held her gaze as if trying to silently express a profound truth to her. His silver eyes had hardened to steel, unreadable to her in the shadowy nightclub. But she sensed significance in his weighty watch.

  “I just want to get out of here,” Stephanie finally said. “Please, can we go?”

  Luke did not lower his eyes to his sister as Arianna would have thought. He did not acknowledge her request either. Not right away. He continued to stare at Arianna. Whatever he sought to convey wordlessly, whatever psychic message he seemed intent on sending to her, was not reaching her. She shifted her weight from one leg to the next uncomfortably, waiting for him to speak, to yell, anything. Heat crept up her neck and touched her cheeks. She was suddenly thankful for the darkness of the club and the loud music as well. Had the music not been playing, she feared Luke and the rest of their group would hear the mad pounding of her heart. She wondered whether he suspected her of lying, whether a part of him believed his sister’s claim about her eyes glowing red. Of course, he would have been correct in doing so; Stephanie had told the truth, as preposterous as it had sounded. Regardless of his motivation, Arianna was unnerved.

  “Luke!” Stephanie said again. “Take me home, now.”

  Stephanie’s words had broken the spell and Luke released her from his gaze. Arianna breathed a silent sigh of relief.

  “Fine, let’s go,” Luke said.

  “So that’s it?” Bulldog asked. “No one’s catching a beating tonight?”

  “Nope, not tonight, Bulldog,” Luke said and offered a thin smile.

  Luke led them through the club to the main entrance. Arianna, Bulldog, Beth, Mike, Carrie, Ryan and Christa filed behind him. Stepping out into the cool, quiet night air, Arianna felt the crushing squeeze anxiety had placed on her lungs begin to subside. Once they’d reached the parking area, everyone began to disperse. She was left alone with Luke and Stephanie.

  “I’m going to take Stephanie home first then drive you home if you don’t mind,” he said to Arianna.

  Arianna felt her heart make a leap from her chest to her throat. “Uh, okay, if that’s what you want,” she fumbled. “Seems like a big production to go to your house then my house then back home, don’t you think?”

  “I don’t mind. I really want to be alone with you, and talk to you,” he said and looked at her again in that peculiar way he had in the nightclub.

  “Fine. If that’s what you want,” she said and hoped she hadn’t sounded cold or cruel. Any other night before this night, being alone with him would have been exactly what she would have wanted. But this night had not been like any other. And she wanted to be alone.

  Luke’s face sagged a bit and she realized she’d hurt him. “Sounds great,” she added for his benefit and watched him brighten. “I’d like that.” He smiled, his usual warm smile, and she found herself smiling back at him. He pulled his seat forward and she climbed into the back seat of his pickup truck. Stephanie assumed her position in the front seat and Luke drove.

  The drive to Luke’s house was silent, painfully silent. The tension in the air had been so thick, Arianna swore she could see it seep from the car in ribbons when Stephanie opened the door and climbed out. Arianna said a quick “Good night” to Stephanie, which was ignored, before positioning herself in the front seat.

  She watched Stephanie stride in impossibly high-heeled shoes to the front door. When she looked away, she slid Luke a glance and saw that he did not watch his sister, but her instead.

  “I can’t believe what happened tonight,” he said.

  “I know. It was, just…crazy…what happened was crazy.”

  “I’m so glad you’re okay. You’re taking it much better than my sister.”

  “Different people handle things differently I guess,” was all she could come up with.

  “Yeah, you’re right. You’re a str
ong person, Arianna. I knew that from the first time we met.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure,” she said, the irony of their exchange weighing on her.

  “I am sure,” he said. “You have this, I don’t know, energy about you, like you can handle anything. Shit, you fought off not one, but two guys tonight.”

  He spoke to her without the slightest hint of sarcasm or suspicion, but with what she could only name as reverence. His admiration pained her for she was no ordinary high school girl who had fended off a pair of assailants. No, she’d had an advantage, a tremendous advantage. And she aimed to conceal her advantage from him.

  “I guess it was adrenaline or something,” she said flatly wishing he would just drive already.

  He reached a hand across the console and rested it on her leg. “Well whatever it was, I’m glad you’re okay, that you weren’t, you know, hurt,” he said and she knew exactly what he’d meant. “And thanks for watching my sister’s back,” he added then moved his hand from her leg to the gearshift.

  The car began to rumble slowly as Luke backed out of his driveway. The short ride to her trailer park was blissfully quiet. When Luke pulled up in front of her porch, she resisted the urge to bolt out of his truck and run inside, not stopping until she reached the shower. She wanted, needed, to scrub the events of the night from her skin, fill her nostrils with the scent of strawberry shampoo in hopes of it purging the fetid stench of charred flesh from them. She wanted to cleanse herself of the man with the neck tattoo’s touch, wash away the entire night. She liked Luke, liked him a lot, but needed to shower, needed to process everything that had happened.

  She watched as Luke turned the key in the ignition and the engine stilled. He opened his door and walked around to the passenger side to open hers.

  “Let the wooing begin again,” he said and smiled.

  “Wow, this is some big-time wooing,” she said and smiled back, unable to resist the sincerity he’d radiated.

  He took her hand and helped her out. In the night air again, Arianna felt the need to busy her hands. She released Luke’s hand and reached into her bag and felt for her pack of cigarettes. Luke produced two of his own and offered one to her. She accepted it, placed it between her lips and waited for him to light it. He lit hers first with exaggerated arm gestures.

  “Still wooing,” he joked and winked.

  She wondered why, and how, he was able to behave so normally after what he’d heard. Perhaps it was just her guilty, possibly murderous, conscience convincing her that he ought to be doubtful of the story she’d told him and nothing more.

  “Listen Arianna, I know this isn’t great timing, but I just want to say that I like you, you know? I care about what happens to you,” he admitted. “When you told me what happened, what that scumbag tried to do to you, I freaked out. I wanted to kill him. I mean literally kill him.”

  Little did he know, she had likely killed at least one of them. “Honestly, I wanted them both dead, too.”

  “Feeling like I did, as angry as I was, I never felt that way about a girl so quickly. I mean, I haven’t known you a long time, but I liked you right away. And tonight, everything that happened,” he said then paused. He stared at the ground for several seconds before he looked up at her and said, “It made me realize I care about you.”

  Arianna wasn’t sure how to react, what to say. Hours earlier, if he had said anything even similar to what he’d just said, and with the earnestness he’d just said it with, she would have been kissing him already. But a lot had happened, more than he could ever know, more than she could ever tell him. She knew that with every second that passed, every second she remained silent, he was dying a small death. Like her, Luke did not seem like the kind of guy who offered his heart to others readily. She cared for him too, despite the fact that she was a supernatural being with a bounty on her head. She dropped her cigarette to the gravel beneath her and closed the distance between them. She wrapped her arms around his waist and tipped her chin up. He lowered his head and pressed his lips to hers. Warm and soft, his mouth was suddenly exactly what she needed. She began to kiss him eagerly, hungrily. She slipped her tongue between his lips and tasted the nicotine in his hot breath. He returned her kiss but with less intensity, less passion. He slid his hands from her waist up her back and into her hair before cupping her face in his hands. He slowed her fevered pace, kissing her tenderly, affectionately, until he was placing light pecks on her lips. Then he pulled her closer, wrapping both arms around her, and hugged her tightly. She felt the slightest trace of his excitement pressing against her belly, but knew he was exercising restraint; that their kiss had not been about sex, but something else entirely.

  They held each other for several seconds before Arianna allowed the tension in her arms to relax and she released him. “I’m going to go inside,” she said quietly.

  “I’m in no hurry if you want to hang out for a bit,” he said hopefully.

  “I’ll have to take a rain check,” she replied. “It’s not that I don’t want to be with you, because I do, I really do. I just feel so…dirty. I want to just scrub the whole night off me.”

  Sadness clouded his features and Arianna felt her heart clench. “Except for this, these last few minutes with you. They helped, Luke. You have no idea how much. Hearing how you feel about me, well, it means the world to me,” she fumbled. “Shit! I’m so bad at this feelings stuff. I care about you, too, okay? You know that right?”

  He did not say anything, but smiled his broad smile that made his silver eyes twinkle then kissed her lips gently.

  “Go on,” he said and patted her backside. “Go inside and wash very bit of this night off, except for the last five minutes. Enjoy your hot shower. I’ll be thinking of you when I take a nice cold one myself,” he winked.

  “Good night, Luke,” she said.

  “Good night, Arianna. I’ll call you tomorrow morning.”

  He waited, leaning against his pickup truck until she was inside before he started the engine. His truck wheezed and sputtered in protest as his headlights faded in the dark. Inside, Arianna turned down the narrow hallway and headed to the bathroom, intent on purging the night from her skin. She knew that soap and water would never rid her of what she’d seen, what she’d done; who she was. But it was a start.

  Chapter 3

  Howard felt a jolt of panic shoot through him, jarring him so abruptly, so wholly, he was forced to brace himself against a wall. He’d just finished orating to a small group of congregants, had just left the nave of the Soldiers of the Divine Trinity Church when terror rocked him. Shaken, he crossed himself, touching his right hand to his forehead, his belly, his left shoulder then his right. He prayed silently, leaning against a corridor wall that led from the sacristy, where he’d left his Bible, to the presbytery, which served as both his office and private living quarters.

  The sudden frightened feeling did not end despite his silent pleas, though. Instead, it changed, transforming into a familiar sensation, one he hadn’t felt in some time, but a familiar one, nonetheless. The initial jolt had been a mere catalyst, a warning, for the reaction that began between his ribcage and spread slowly, swelling and stretching like a great beast awakening from slumber inside of him. Howard bit his lower lip to keep from screaming, the torturous pain branching from his abdomen unbearable. Twisting and writing demonically, the feeling wound within him weaving and snaking down throughout him to the tips of his fingers. He heard himself gasp as realization of what was occurring settled upon him. Abrasive awareness scratched and clawed its way to his consciousness and he grasped that he was feeling the evil energy of the Sola. Her power had come to fruition, had matured. And she had used it for her own depraved purpose.

  An offense against God had just been committed, and she had been responsible for it. Of that he was certain. Her iniquity entwined itself around his very veins with barbed tentacles, pulsing tainted lifeblood through them. He could not be sure what exactly had happened, could not see her
wicked deed, but felt it, felt her sin winding its way inside him agonizingly.

  The feel of sin had not been foreign to Howard. He knew the grotesque sensation all too well. He, himself, had been a sinner at one time.

  As he breathed deeply, trying desperately to exorcise the fiendish ache, memories rushed through him, swirling with the excruciating pain in a horrific dance.

  He had not sinned in more than thirty-five years. He was a man of God and did no wrong, now. But when he had been a boy, he hadn’t been the shining example of man he currently was. He had not been on the righteous path he was presently on. Long ago, he had lost his way.

  When Howard had been just twelve years old, he had been living in a youth detention center for two years. Sentenced for six months to a locked-down facility after he’d killed his mother and her lover, he had been transferred shortly thereafter to an all-boys prison camp of sorts where corporal punishment had been implemented. There, he had experienced the most trying times of his entire life. Brutality had abounded. It had been part of a venomous cycle. Guards had abused detainees and detainees had abused one another. Howard, in particular, had endured multiple forms of cruelty. Small for his age and delicate of feature, he had been branded a “sissy,” had been teased and taunted regularly. But the abuses had not ended with words. Every part of him had been raped: body, mind and soul. Bruises had marked nearly every inch of him and improperly healed fractures and lacerations had marred his appearance. But neither his bruises nor cuts, nor the deformities of poorly fused bones had deterred his assailants. No, the assaults had continued. Some had been worse than others. Some attackers had been more zealous than others.

  Among the seemingly endless string of people who had brutalized him had been two boys who’d taken particular joy in his suffering. Howard closed his eyes and, even after thirty-five years, could still see their faces in vivid detail. Tom Callahan and Greg Santos had both been tall and strapping for their fourteen years. They had badgered Howard relentlessly, had called him Mother Killer. They had said Howard had been jealous of his mother’s lover, that he had wanted to have intercourse with her and had killed them because of his incestuous desire for her. They had accused him of heinous feelings. But Tom and Greg had not understood that his mother had been evil, that he had killed her at God’s urging. They had not known about his divine calling, of the power he had possessed. And still, after decades of time spent away from the camp, free from the likes of Tom and Greg, his former name, Mother Killer, nauseated him.