“Just walking back to my house.” Brenik pointed in the direction of where the cabins were located up ahead.
“You live out here?” the guy asked as he tossed his head back to glance over his shoulder.
“Yeah, cabin twenty-three,” Brenik lied with a tone that was comfortable and easy.
“Oh, the Thompson’s place. They’re back already?”
“No, I’m their nephew, Brenik.” The lie slid off his tongue, as if it had been planted and already arranged there.
“Nice to meet you, Brenik. I’m Jeremy Jones. I live at cabin twenty-five year-round.” Jeremy stretched out a large hand that was about the same size as Brenik’s, his deep brown eyes open and warm.
“You, too.” Brenik felt liberated. This was the only other human he had talked to besides Ruth, and he was intrigued.
Jeremy turned around and motioned at Brenik with a wave. “Come on, I’ll walk you back since you don’t appear to be from around here. No one in their right mind would be walking a track barefoot and carrying around… What is that exactly you’re carrying?”
“Oh, just a painting.” Brenik drew the portrait closer to his body to protect it, but not because he thought this Jeremy would take it and run. But because it was his.
“Right … let me see. My mom’s a painter.” Jeremy’s eyes fixed on the backside of the canvas.
Hesitating for a moment, Brenik finally turned the canvas around to face Jeremy, since it would be odd to try and hide the portrait any longer.
Jeremy let out a low whistle followed by a deep chuckle that made Brenik unable to hold back a close-lipped smile, tilted up at the sides. “So, what I said back there about thinking it strange how you’re dressed like this and barefoot”—he looked Brenik up and down—“this just tops the whole cake. Who the hell walks a track like that”—Jeremy tipped his hand down and spun his index finger in a circle—“and then carries a portrait of themselves?”
“It was a gift … from my sister.” If Jeremy wanted to know more about his sister, the lies would continue to come easily.
Jeremy inched closer and examined the picture more thoroughly. “Well, she did a damn good job.”
“She did.” Or at least the Stone had.
They walked for a little longer until they reached the first set of homes. Each one was built from chestnut-colored logs with the same porch steps positioned in the middle where the entrance door was. Jeremy came to a stop in front of cabin number twenty-five. “Well, see you around, Brenik. Take good care of that portrait and make sure the next time I see you, you have shoes on. Who the hell knows what’s on the gravel out here.”
Grinning, Brenik said, “I’ll scavenge some up somewhere.”
Jeremy started up the stairs as Brenik turned to head to his new place. “Oh hey, Brenik, do you watch football?”
“I have never watched a game.”
“What? That’s straight up insanity. My place, tonight at seven. I have the week off, so I’ll have plenty of beer.”
Brenik had never been into sports much, and every time a game was on, Ruth had changed the channel because no one in the house was interested. He was willing to try new things these days, and Jeremy seemed friendly enough.
It only took him a few minutes to walk the rest of the way to the cabin. They were spread out far enough to where there was enough privacy from the neighboring homes, but not too far in case someone was needed in an emergency. But he would be sticking to himself for the most part.
The log cabin wasn’t in as great of shape as Jeremy’s, but it would do for the time being.
Ascending the couple of steps, each one groaning from the pressure of his feet, Brenik approached the ragged “Welcome Home” doormat. He lifted it by the corner and found the silver key, waiting to be snatched by him.
His stomach rumbled, and he turned back around to the fruit tree in the front yard. Marching back down the steps, he plucked two ripe oranges, his mouth ready for the tangy taste.
Unlocking the door, he headed into his new place—it was the same as the last time he had snuck in there when the Thompsons were gone. They would always leave the windows open, such trustworthy people.
Dust filled his nostrils, and he sneezed inside his inner elbow. Brenik studied his surroundings and recognized the small living room, tiny kitchen, and he already knew the bathroom and bedroom were behind the closed door.
He padded into the bedroom and flipped on the light switch—one large bed and a dresser with a mirror on top. His image from the mirror stared back at him. Brenik approached it, gazing at himself—he admired his sleek black hair, pale unlined skin, and the perfect, plump bottom lip. He ran the bottom of his tongue across it as his pale blue eyes watched, and he felt his pants tighten in the area that wanted to be satisfied.
Brenik set the canvas on top of the dresser next to the oval mirror, then walked to lay down on the semi-comfortable bed. Peeling one of the oranges, he took a whiff of the citrusy scent and hunger coursed through his veins, all the way to where his fingers connected to the fruit.
Pulling a fresh slice out, dripping with juice, Brenik placed it between his lips, and savored each magnificent bite. But as the juice and fruit ran down his throat, the orange was no longer sweet—it became bitter and sour before turning to a taste which had to be similar to decay.
Jolting up from the bed, Brenik ran to the bathroom and gagged over the toilet bowl as he firmly gripped the sides. The fruit started to come back up—it skated up his throat and plunked down into the water, no longer the color orange but black and tarnished.
Everything that came up was black as it swirled in the water. Hastily, Brenik flushed the toilet and hurried to lay back down in bed.
Thoughts churned around inside his head of his deal with the Stone of Desire. So, I won’t be able to eat fruit anymore. he thought. There could only be one thing that would satisfy his hunger, and he would do anything to achieve it.
Drifting off to sleep, Bray entered his dreams, even then he couldn’t rid his mind of his family.
Brenik fell to the ground in a puddle of goo, two hands gripping his sides to pull him up.
“I cannot be a mother to you two—there was never supposed to be two, not even one. And you’re too weak.” Two bright cerulean eyes stared down at Brenik. “I never wanted this—never wanted to be a mother.”
If it was not his mother who was holding him, then who was it? His heavy head lolled to the side, where he focused on another tiny frame holding him, covered in wetness.
“It does not take long for our kind to take care of ourselves, so I know you two can do it. I am sorry, but I cannot stay. As brother and sister, at least you will have each other.” Without any tears falling from her face, Brenik’s mother flew away. He watched her dark wings beat back and forth as she strayed farther and farther away from him into the distance.
“Little brother,” the one holding him whispered in his ear, while clasping his hands.
Brenik did not say anything—he could not. His body felt too weak.
“Brenik, we were together inside our mother. I am Brayora, remember?”
He remembered now as everything came together. Inside their mother, they were able to communicate with each other in different ways. They had given each other names and would listen to their mother’s voice and movements.
“I remember,” he finally answered.
“We have to leave and find something to eat,” she rushed out.
They didn’t fight over food inside of their mother’s stomach—he had given a lot to Brayora because she was so hungry, even though she had always offered the nutrients to him first.
As soon as Brenik tried to stand from the grassy area, his knees buckled, and he fell back down to the ground.
Brayora grabbed under his arms and dragged him backward, with the energy she must have received from their mother’s food. He didn’t have the strength to try to do anything on his own.
His tiny brain latched onto his surro
undings and instinct let him know what the various shapes and figures were as he looked around. Brayora halted in front of a tree, and slowly lay his body against the warm dirt.
Wings crinkled behind his back, and he had to adjust them since they were still covered in liquid. The twins needed to find somewhere to wash off.
A boisterous stomping sounded in the distance, and Brenik and Brayora froze. Over the roaring noise, Brenik turned around to see the tree had a small opening on the bottom. “In here.” Frantically, he pointed to the hole and motioned Brayora to go inside first.
Gathering as much strength as he could muster, he crawled inside after her. Brenik swiveled to the side and planted himself against the inside of the tree.
The stomping became louder and louder, and Brenik and Brayora held their breathing steady as best as they could.
Like earlier, the world was now suddenly quiet. Brenik perked an ear up and heard not a single sound—no movement. He believed them to have stopped. Growing braver, he peered out of the hole and squirmed forward. Nothing was there.
“You can come out, Brayora.” As soon as he scooted all the way out, something snatched him off the ground. Brayora screamed from below and tried to fly up to him, but she could not use her wings yet.
With his heart frantically beating in his chest, Brenik turned to face what had him in their grip. He saw horns—all four black. Two protruded from the front and two from the sides. A flat nose with thin twin slits was puffing hot air onto his face from a large gray head.
His own body shook with fear as the gray creature pulled him even closer.
“Bat,” the creature murmured.
“Yes, that is what I am!” Brenik spat. He was not going to be afraid.
“Feisty, feisty, little bat.”
“Let my brother go!” Somehow, Brayora had managed to use her wings and was in front of the horned creature’s face.
“Two of you. You are lucky I’m the one who has stumbled upon you.”
“Why is that?” Brayora asked as she tried to unwrap the creature’s thick fingers from around Brenik’s body.
“Because I am one of the only Jovkins who chooses not to hunt your kind down.” As Brenik got a better look, he noticed the Jovkin was female. Her golden yellow eyes narrowed at them, as if she wanted to change her mind and have them for a snack.
Reaching with her other hand, she plucked a luscious peach from the tree branch. “You see this?”
“Yes,” Brenik and Brayora said simultaneously. He licked at his lips as the Jovkin held the fruit.
“Your kind has been eating all our fruit.” Large crooked teeth smiled at the both of them.
“I am sure there is plenty to go around since we are so small,” Brayora insisted.
“That is likely not true, since we eat most of them.” The Jovkin thrust the peach closer to Brayora, and without hesitation, his sister bit into it. “My name is Junah.”
Rotating the fruit toward Brenik’s face, Junah brought it up closer to his mouth. It took him four times to finally get a full bite into his small mouth, and the peach was delicious.
After swallowing, he pointed from himself to his sister. “My name is Brenik, and this is my sister—Brayora.”
“Where is your mother?” Junah scanned the trees of the forest, searching for what was not there.
“She left because she did not want us,” he answered.
Junah’s shoulders seemed to relax, but her face was filled with fury. “Well, I suppose that means I will have to give you two a bath and find you some clothing. You cannot go around smelling like your mother any longer.” The anger was no longer on her face as it contorted into revulsion.
“Can I sit on you?” Brayora squealed as she dove forward to rest on Junah’s broad shoulder.
Junah’s revulsion seemed to subside, and a small smile crossed her face as she brought Brenik to rest on top of her other shoulder.
Brenik was thankful for this because while Brayora’s wings were already working, he was still too tired to try his out for the first time.
While traveling to the river, Junah watched the area with an intensity and a new protectiveness as she carried them along. For the first time in his short life, Brenik now felt safe and secure with his new family.
8
Bray
“Hop on board.” Wes patted his back.
Bray looked askance at what Wes was offering her. A moment ago, he had opened the car door for her and was now facing the store, slightly hunched forward for her to hop on his back. He was freshly clean after his shower and wearing a black fitted t-shirt and shorts. “I can walk. In fact, I walked barefoot to your car from the house earlier.”
Huffing, Wes turned around to face her. “The fact that you don’t care about protecting your assets is terrible. I’m not going to risk you getting tetanus, then have to take you to the hospital and explain this whole strange situation to them. So, hop on.” He gestured again at his back.
“This isn’t Pretty Woman,” Bray said as she leaped onto him like a monkey, arms wrapping around his throat.
“It sure as hell isn’t—you’re at the dollar store, nothing fancy,” he coughed out, and she loosened her grip around his throat. “Although, with this getup you have on, all bets are off on what the cashier will be thinking.”
“There’s nothing wrong with my outfit.” It was a halter dress that left it easy for her wings to sprout back and forth—maybe a bit short on the length.
He didn’t respond as he gripped her thighs and headed into the store. No one else seemed to be inside besides the cashier.
“Do you have any flip-flops?” Wes asked the cashier at the front.
The gray-haired lady was possibly in her sixties and smacked her gum ever so slowly as she stared at them for a moment. “Yeah. Straight back.”
Wes gave the woman a brief nod and carried Bray through an aisle that had a whole lot of candy. She extended her hand to grab a pack of gummy worms, and Wes dodged her to the side, putting the chewy riches out of reach. “Priorities first,” he grumbled.
Bray sighed sadly against the back of his neck.
When they reached a large metal basket filled with shoes, there wasn’t much of a selection—black, green, or red. “Where’s the pink?” Bray didn’t mind the other colors, but pink would have been nice.
“For that, we’ll have to move up from dollar territory to Walmart another day. Here, try these on.” He snatched a green pair of flip-flops attached together and slipped one on her right foot, then carefully lowered her to the tiled floor.
Bray slid on the other one, and the shoes fit perfectly. Wes knelt and pulled off the tab holding them together. She did a little jog in place to test the flip-flops out, and they felt great.
“They aren’t jogging shoes.” His gaze shifted back and forth between her eyes and mouth, but a small smile started to tug at the edge of his lips.
“You never know what you might need them for.”
“Right, but apparently you can just change, and you know—flutter away.” He trickled his fingers across the air like they were running.
Bray tilted her head forward. “Precisely.”
Rolling his eyes, he turned around to head back down the candy aisle and snatched the pack of gummy worms as he kept on walking. She plucked a pack of gummy bears and ran up next to Wes, handing him the candy. “These are for Luca.”
He didn’t answer but grabbed those, too, before turning down another aisle filled with craft items and makeup.
“What are you looking for?” Bray asked curiously as she scanned the area with him.
“Feathers, but they have to be red,” Wes responded as he continued his search.
Farther down the row, Bray spotted several packs of different colored feathers—the options were black, green, and red. Are these the only three colors this store likes to sell? she wondered.
Hopping in place, Bray picked up a pack of the red feathers. “Found them! What do I win?”
“Is that a serious question?” Wes started for her and took the pack of feathers from her hand.
“It could be.” No one was ever too old for games. She missed playing those.
“I guess those flip-flops are your prize.” He smiled and leaned down to snag all four other packs from the shelf—they didn’t come with many feathers inside.
“What are you doing with these feathers?” Bray leaned over Wes as he hunched down to search through the area.
Craning his head over his shoulder, he stared at her. “You don’t have to get all up in my business, scoot back a little.” She moved back maybe a centimeter. Shaking his head, he turned back around. “Luca needs red feathers for his Halloween costume.”
“Oh yeah? What is he going to be? Wait, don’t tell me, let me guess.” She loved to guess things. “A chicken?”
Gazing down at the five packs of feathers in his hands, Wes let out what might have been a small laugh. “We’d probably need a hundred more packs of these if Luca was going to be a red chicken. But seriously, he’s going to be Rufio.”
“Who’s that?” She had never heard of this Rufio before.
“So, you know Pretty Woman but not Hook? What world are you living in? You know…” He took a small pause. “Ru-fi-oooooooooo!”
“No.” Bray giggled. It was the most enthusiastic she had seen Wes all day.
He rubbed the back of his neck, turning his face, cheeks a little heated. “Well, then it was ridiculous to have done that. We have the movie at home, and I’m sure Luca will play it tonight if you ask him.”
“Now I definitely have to watch it.” Bray felt excitement radiate through her, not only for watching a movie, but getting to see one with her new little beast friend—and maybe Wes.
At the checkout area, Bray propped her leg up on the counter, so the cashier could scan the sticker price tag on the bottom of her flip-flop.
“You could have just taken the tag off and handed it to her,” Wes said, silently mouthing to the cashier that he was sorry.
Clouded by Envy Page 6
