by R. J. Ladon
Kragnor tried another tool encased in man-made-stone. It marked on the paper, showing blue scribbles, but on his flesh, nothing appeared. He selected a purple crayon and wrote a sentence under the journal paragraph. He continued with the writing instruments, coloring, and drawing as only the curious can.
Kragnor sighed, upset that he allowed the paper and colors to distract. He needed to continue searching for his brothers and sisters. He opened the hallway door and descended the clothed stairway. The woman lay in her chair, snoring. The silent portal displayed images from far off lands. He located the portal-wand and held it in his grasp.
Gently he touched the woman’s shoulder.
Ruby stirred, stretched, and then said, “Kevin, are you alright?”
“I am not Kevin.”
Startled by the low tambour of Kragnor’s voice, Ruby sat up and pulled a blanket over her lap, up her chest, like a shield. Her eyes skated over the bulk of his body. “Who are you?” Her voice was not timid or scared like she seemed the first night he met her.
“I am Kragnor.”
Ruby reached out tentatively to touch him. She smiled. “Good, you’re real.”
Kragnor huffed.
“My apologies, my imagination gets the better of me from time to time.” Ruby stood and turned on a light. She stepped back and gaped. She took a deep breath and poked him, moved his tail, then wings, lifting and looking under them. Ruby rubbed the webbing of his wings, gasping. “Feels like dragonfly wings.” She babbled with a giddy trill to her voice. “Still, I’m not certain that you exist. You could be part of my dementia. Not that I mind. I have met all kinds of friends. My, you are handsome.” She rubbed the side of his face, stopping, realizing what she did.
Rapscallion rubbed on Kragnor’s legs and meowed at Ruby.
Ruby picked up the white cat. “Rap approves of you. You’re not malicious. Welcome to my abode. What can I do for you?”
Kragnor shook his head, not fully understanding. “Did you summon me, Sorceress?”
Ruby smiled. “Sorceress, I like the sound of that. But, no, I didn’t summon you.” Disappointment crossed her features. “If only I could.”
“Then, you would not care if I take my leave?”
“You may come and go as you please, but I think I would be happy if you returned,” Ruby said. “I feel safe and content with you here.”
“As you wish.” Kragnor knelt and offered Ruby the wand. “I return your portal-wand.”
Ruby accepted it graciously then noticed the purple crayon tucked between his fingers. “Thank you. You are most kind. Would you do me the honor of writing on my cast?”
Kragnor huffed. “What is cast?”
“This is a cast.” Ruby showed him her pink arm. “It is used to help a broken bone heal.”
“Your bones are broken? And this,” he tapped the cast with a claw, “keeps the bone still, like a splint?”
“Exactly."
Kragnor nodded, feeling proud for understanding the external covering but made no move to write on it.
“Would you mark on it for me?” Ruby shoved her pink arm toward him.
With his purple crayon, Kragnor wrote three symbols that Ruby never saw before. “You honor me, Sorceress. Now I must take my leave and find my brothers and sisters.” He kept the crayon and waited for dismissal.
“Thank you.” Ruby touched the marks. “It’s beautiful.”
Kragnor nodded then turned, leaving out the back door. He looked to the house behind the metal weaved gate, hoping to see one of the young children. There was a time when children adored him. Did the curtain move? It was hard to see inside the dark room. He looked to the stars, squatted into his strong haunches, and leaped into the sky.
He landed stealthily in the small cemetery near the Catholic church. He looked around, climbed through the red granite headstone, and emerged in the quiet country cemetery.
It was warmer in the forgotten cemetery than the city cemetery. Frogs chirped, and mosquitoes buzzed. He didn’t know how far he traveled between headstones. Someday he would find out. But to do so, he would have to talk to the author of the paragraph or the Sorceress. Though he doubted Sorceress would be reliable. She had a powerful spell of forgetting cast upon her.
He entered the same black granite headstone as before. He wanted to track the other stones inside Banco de Mexico. He was careful to enter the room slowly so as not to awaken the magic noises. He stood in the room with granite walls, feeling at home. He breathed deep, taking in the earthy tones of the stone. Each section smelled similar. They probably came from the same quarry. He entered the slab next to the one with the words on it. He came through, appearing in the same bank but out a different wall.
He tried another and felt a change in gravity. He slowly appeared out the top of a countertop sink. Only his head and eyes were above the countertop. The room was beautiful, filled with the same black granite stone walls as the bank. White marble decanters filled with flowers sat near the door. A clawed bath basin carved from white marble was in the center of the room.
A woman relaxed in the tub, her head laid back, and a cloth covered her face. She faced away from the sink. A white statue of a woman holding grapes stood on a pedestal in the corner. The figure moved, indicating to Kragnor that she was one of the brethren. Brethren were works of art created by humans and given life through magic spells. They were not alive like plants, animals, and people. Instead, they appeared more life-like than other statues. To humans, the incantation increased the statue's mystique and value. To akitu, the brethren were like finding lost family or friends. While a stone could share memories with an akitu, a brethren could discuss and converse.
He eased out of the countertop surface. He stepped onto the floor and walked across the tiles, claws clicking with every step. Click. Click.
The woman in the tub sat up, startled. She pulled the cloth off her face and looked around. Kragnor froze, hoping she would not turn to look at him, but she did. She screamed, “Ayudame, Ayudame!”
Two men burst into the room with strange-looking weapons. They saw Kragnor, screamed in terror, and small metal projectiles flew out of their weapons. The pellets hit Kragnor, but they ricocheted off his flesh and flew unpredictably, striking the screaming woman. She dropped back into the water-filled tub. The delicate statue, the brethren woman, fell from the shattered pedestal and broke into many pieces.
Realizing he no longer had a purpose in the room, Kragnor leaped toward the countertop, diving into its surface while projectiles continued to strike his flesh. He entered the bank with such chaos and speed that the magic thrumming noises and bright lights filled the corridor of granite walls. Knowing he needed to leave the bank too, he leaped through the Banco de Mexico wall.
He erupted out of the headstone into the forgotten cemetery, sprawling on the grass. Chirping frogs, singing crickets, and buzzing bugs serenaded him. Kragnor enjoyed the sounds of nature and remembered simpler times before humans.
The magics of this era are strange and incomprehensible. It seems, from their screams of terror and desire to harm me, those humans never saw an akitu before. What happened to make the world forget? He sat up and snorted with disgust. I was a fool to think I could figure everything out on my own. I destroyed that brethren woman. I need allies. The Sorceress has talked with me, even if she is uncertain that I am real. The three children in the other house have shown interest; perhaps I should go to them.
A fox trotted past Kragnor, nose to the ground. It startled when it saw his movements. “No, woodland creature, I am not a boulder.” Kragnor held out his hand, allowing the fox to catch his scent. “But I probably smell like one.” The curious fox sniffed then returned to the trail he was following. “It is time for me to return to the Sorceress’s house.”
He stood and looked at the small pockmarks that the projectiles gave him. He touched them, surprised by the damage. The wounds didn’t hamper his movements or cause much pain. He studied his finger, where he cut the ti
p on the blade. It was healed. These marks will be gone soon too.
He looked around; this cemetery could be his sanctuary if he needed it. The thought that he had options pleased him. Still, it was best to give Sorceress and the author a chance.
Kragnor entered the red granite headstone and emerged in the newer cemetery near the church. He half expected the man in the black clothing to chase him. But it was quiet, no frogs, crickets, or bugs. It was colder here; the animals must be preparing for winter.
He jumped high before opening his wings, catching the air and flying to Sorceress’s house. Within minutes he landed next to the gnarled oak. He entered the house and climbed the stairs to the room with old things. He remade his nest, curled up, and fell asleep.
Chapter 32
K evin woke gasping. What the hell happened? Pain coursed through him. He touched his sore body. Did I fall fifty flights of stairs? The early light in the attic was not bright. He smiled. At least he was home. He went to his room and turned on the lights. His muscles were tight, pulling with every step.
He opened the closet, which held a full-length mirror on the backside of the door. Bruises the size of oranges covered his body. They were center mass, at least that is what the cop shows called it. He turned to look at the rest of his body. The damage was everywhere, including a cut under his eye. He looked over his body again and noticed another cut on his shoulder and hip.
Kevin poked the bruises then hissed with pain. There were strange marks on his arms. He touched them, but they didn’t hurt. Looking closer, they appeared to be squiggles, lines, circles, and geometric designs written in ink, pencil, crayon, and marker. He looked from the bruises to the drawings. Was I in a paintball fight with a bunch of kindergarteners?
He closed the closet door and noticed his desk in a state of disarray. The composition notebook contained markings similar to the designs on his skin. Was the monster trying to communicate? Below the paragraph Kevin wrote the night before, in large beautiful purple crayon script, was: My name is Kragnor. I can assure you that I am not a werewolf.
Kevin sat on the bed, holding the notebook in shaking hands. He turned the page, licked his lips, and wrote I am human. What if this monster doesn’t know what a human is? Kevin found a People magazine and cut out a Calvin Klein model. “You only wish you looked that good,” he said. About halfway down the paper, he wrote another sentence: I think we are sharing one body. Briefly, he thought about finding a picture of a werewolf to add to the page but decided against it
Kevin dressed quickly and ran downstairs. Ruby sat in her chair, drinking coffee. There were some strange purple marks on Ruby’s pink cast. The purple looked like the same hue of crayon that Kragnor used to write in the notebook. Should I ask her?
“Good morning.”
“Morning, sorry no breakfast for me, I’m late again.” Kevin ran out of the front door. Johnny’s car was out front, and he was drinking coffee. “Morning,” Kevin called as he passed the ugly tan vehicle.
Kevin ran to school at a brisk pace, feeling rather pleased with his ability to keep his speed all the way. The strength and endurance probably came from being part monster. Kevin entered the school just as the first bell rang. He continued running down the hall to his first class.
Tony, Vin, and Chad were in the front row, mocking him. But Kevin didn’t care. He was in a good mood. There was no way Tony could make him feel bad. Kevin smiled at Tony and his cronies then took his seat.
Tony seemed upset or disappointed by Kevin’s smile. Psychology class started and ended with no other distractions.
Annie stood next to his locker, batting her eyes at him, twisting her finger around her necklace, rubbing the purple stone. Annie was out of her mind. He didn’t want anything to do with her, yet she seemed to want him. Annie took his hand and pulled him into the nearby girls' bathroom. She shoved Kevin against a wall and planted a kiss on him. He tried to jerk away, but she pinned him.
“Stop it,” Kevin demanded.
“You know you want me. No point in fighting it,” Annie said, caressing his face.
“But I don’t.”
Annie stepped back. “What’s wrong with you? Everyone wants me.” She caressed her body, rubbing her breasts, hips, and inner thighs. She licked her lips. “Everyone wants what only I can give them.”
Kevin looked at her, confused by her actions and his lack of response. Only a couple days ago, he would have killed to have Annie look at him like that. It seemed as if his own body was denying him. Maybe because he realized that she was poison.
Annie’s eyes darkened, then hardened with hate and anger. “You’re an ass.” She slapped his face then ran out the door.
Kevin shrugged off the slap and followed Annie out of the girls' bathroom.
Tony, Vin, and Chad were outside the door. Annie was gone.
Kevin tried to step around them to get to his class. Tony sidestepped, blocking him.
Kevin glowered. “What do you want?”
Tony stepped back and cracked his knuckles.
Vin and Chad punched each other on the shoulder, psyching themselves up.
“Oh, yea,” Vin said, drawling the words.
“There’s gonna be a fight. I love fights!” Chad shouted down the hallway.
The hallway cleared. Vin and Chad chanted, “fight, fight, fight,” and others picked it up. The chant surrounded Kevin. He looked around for a friendly face or a teacher to stop this nonsense.
Tony smiled maliciously. He nodded to Vin and Chad. They grabbed Kevin’s shirt and hauled him into the center of the hallway.
Tony put up his balled fists and bobbed around, dodging and weaving. “Poor Widdle Kevy doesn’t know how to fight.” His smile faded. “How about a lesson?” He stepped back, then quickly forward, landing an uppercut to Kevin’s jaw.
Kevin fell backward, sliding on the linoleum floor.
Tony screamed, “What the fuck?”
The chanting stopped. Kevin sat up, mentally prepared for another attack. Someone moved fast down the corridor away from him. “What happened?” He said aloud. “Where’s Tony?”
“Shut-up, asshole.”
Kevin looked around, getting to his feet. Who said that? It sounded an awful lot like Vin.
An hour passed before he realized that his jaw didn’t hurt.
The final bell rang, and the students filed out of Russian History class. Most had busses to catch or sports practice to attend. Megan wasn’t packing up her books. Instead, she pulled out more. She opened a book titled Cuneiform Writing to a page that she marked with a sheet of loose-leaf.
Kevin walked to her desk to see what she was doing. “I tried to decipher some of the inscription myself. But I didn’t do very well.” She opened the paper, exposing a line of cuneiform and many different words in line under each grouping.
“Why not have your father figure it out?”
Megan looked up, startled. “Oh. Hi, Kevin, I thought you were Mr. Mulligan.”
“Does your dad know what the engravings mean?”
“The translation doesn’t make sense.” Megan pointed to the desk near her. “Sit, let me explain.”
Kevin straddled the chair so he could face her across the desk.
“The Chinese people told my father that the engraving reads, the stone shall protect the bear till the end of time. But that doesn’t agree with the number of marks on the stone.”
Kevin gave her a blank stare.
“Okay, watch.” Megan pulled out a piece of paper. On it, she wrote a series of lines and triangle shapes. “This says ‘I don’t know what to write’ in cuneiform. It’s a direct translation from English.” Megan wrote the same sentence in English directly below the cuneiform. She wrote another cuneiform sentence. “That one is ‘I don’t know what to write’ also but translated from French. ‘Je ne sais pas quoi écrire.’ Do you see the difference?”
Kevin frowned. “There is an extra mark for the French.”
“Good.” Megan nodded. �
��Do you know why?”
“No.”
“It is the number of syllables. The French sentence has seven. The English has six. The same sentence in Romanian is five.”
“Wow. How many languages do you know?”
Megan blushed. “That’s not what I was trying to show you.” Megan wrote the sentence. The stone shall protect the bear till the end of time. “How many syllables does this sentence have?”
Kevin said the sentence in his head and counted on his fingers. “Twelve.”
“The cuneiform marks imply there ought to be thirty syllables or words.”
“Okay,” Kevin said, then frowned. “I’m not sure I understand.”
“The people who gave the stones to the museum for the exhibit lied about the translation.”
Realization dawned. Kevin’s eyes widened. “Why?”
“It’s a mystery. That’s why I’m trying so hard to find the answer. I like puzzles.” Megan shrugged as if to apologize.
Kevin looked at the paper with the rubbing on it. “I thought I might be able to help you translate, but I’m way out of my league.” He pushed the paper back.
Chapter 33
K ragnor picked up the book from the desk. A new purple crayon sat nestled in the spine. He read the first sentence and responded with, “I am akitu.” For the second sentence, he nodded. Sharing a body explained how he moved from one location to another while he slept.
Kragnor flicked the image of the man poorly taped to the paper. As if I didn’t know what a human was. An open magazine exposed a man-shaped hole. The pages flopped in his hands. The book had no spine, and two small metal clips held it together. The bookbinder ought to be whipped.
He closed the book and read the cover People. He nodded to himself, amused. Either humans have become less intelligent, or they have no idea what their species looks like. He placed the magazine on the desk and slowly rifled through the pages. Images of people in strange clothing covered the pages. Kragnor read the print, wondering who they were and what their importance was. Only kings and queens were written about in such a manner. It seemed ridiculous to have so many royals.
