Old Wounds

by Ren Hamilton

  He left Shep’s bedroom and walked down the hall to his own, closing the door and throwing himself down on the bed. “This shit is getting old,” he whispered. At the sound of car doors, he sat up and looked out the window. Shep and the brothers piled into the van, loaded for bear with weapons. His heart drummed in his chest. What if Shep needed him? He had no idea what he’d find out there. Even if he did locate Allisto, there was no telling what kind of shape he’d be in, or what was in his mind.

  And then there was always the chance that this was a trick, something conjured by Shep’s enemies to lure him out, to make him vulnerable. That this thought hadn’t occurred to Shep drove Joey insane. Or perhaps it had occurred to Shep, and he thought he could blast his way through whatever awaited him. Shep was overconfident. And Joey was terrified for him.

  “Fuck this,” he said, as he watched the white van pull out of the driveway. He ran for the basement, finding the key and unlocking the gun cabinet. Loading a sidearm, he grabbed his jacket, then snatched his car keys and ran out the front door. Pulling out of the driveway, he rolled down all the windows, letting the crisp autumn air fill the vehicle.

  He may not be able to sense Allisto’s location. But he could always sense Shep’s. And he would follow him. Shep might have guns. But the guns didn’t love him. His Sword did.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “So that’s the state of things,” Agent Litner told Wesley. “While I’m certain this will create some sort of chaos, I’m reasonably sure this one’s Shep’s problem alone. If they all want to kill each other, so be it. At least it’s no longer got anything to do with us.”

  “So I can go back home?” Wesley asked.

  “I’d say it’s safe to do so,” Litner said. “But will you wait until the morning? It’s already dark out, and I ordered a couple of pizzas. You may as well stay one more night. Humor me, I’m a worrier.”

  Wesley chuckled. “Okay. Thanks, Dad.”

  Litner laughed and got two root beers out of the fridge. “I’m not sure what makes that statement funnier. That you’ve got almost twenty years on me, or that I’m the most sterile guy on the planet.”

  Wesley’s grin slid away. “It was very brave of you. Testing the crop on yourself.”

  Litner grunted, busying himself with setting out plates.

  “Did you...want children, Steven?”

  “Me? No.”

  Wesley took a sip of root beer, frowning. “I guess I’m fated to be childless as well. I certainly wouldn’t risk infecting someone with whatever I am.”

  Litner stopped and studied him. “And what is that exactly. Do you know?”

  Wesley looked up at him. “I know I’ve never been sick. Not since before Shep started altering me, all those years ago. I know there’s something inside me that’s no longer human. I feel it. Whatever it is, I can’t pass it on to a child. If I’m even able to reproduce. Shep is sterile by nature.”

  “You could adopt,” Litner said.

  Wesley smiled at him. “I don’t think it would be fair to bring a child into my world. Everyone has a dysfunctional family to worry about. But I’d have to try and keep my kid away from an otherworldly Power that broke me when he tried to turn me into a god. It’s too risky.”

  Litner held his root beer up. “Well, to being single and childless, wild and crazy guys.”

  “Cheers.” Wesley regarded Litner as he sipped his root beer. “You know, it’s funny. With your...condition, in some regard, we’ve both been infected by Shep. In different ways of course, but it all leads back to that little scrub.”

  “Indeed it does.” Litner chuckled. “Seems to me anyone gets too close to him walks away with something to show for it. Guy’s got quite the bag of tricks. Sure as hell keeps me on my toes.”

  “You...admire him. Don’t you?”

  “Admire him? I wouldn’t go that far. He intrigues me. But I prefer to be intrigued from a great distance, whenever possible.”

  “I hear that,” Wesley said. “Just being in the same room with him—”

  Three loud knocks sounded, and they both turned. “Pizza?” Wesley asked, then frowned. “What’s wrong?”

  Litner had gone very still, and Wesley was reminded of a hunting dog he’d once had, the way it would stiffen like a statue when it caught a scent. “Just don’t know why the pizza guy would be knocking on my back door instead of the front.”

  Wesley stood up, stomach fluttering as Litner pulled a gun out of a kitchen drawer and crept toward the hallway. “Who do you think it is?”

  “Stay in here,” he ordered, and disappeared around the corner.

  Wesley heard the back door open, then Litner’s voice, along with a strange choking sound. “Wesley!” he shouted.

  Wesley ran down the hall, heart thudding as he turned the corner and saw Litner holding open the back door. As he stepped up beside him, he saw a person kneeling on the patio outside, a floral sheet shrouding their head and body. Then the head lifted, exposing his face, and Wesley gasped and took a step back.

  Wet black corkscrew curls framed a face with swollen lids, pale as death with purple bruises around the eyes. His lips were swollen as well, like an infant just come through the womb. “Allisto...” Wesley said. “Oh, God.” He brought his fingers to his mouth, taking another step back. “Oh, my God.”

  Allisto’s lower lip trembled and those swollen eyelids fluttered open, revealing emerald eyes, glistening with tears. “Please.” His voice was hoarse, almost a wheeze. “Help. I need you to help me...hide from him.” His body went into tremors, rippling the sheet around his body.

  “He’s freezing, help me get him inside,” Litner said.

  “Really? After what you just told me about him?”

  Litner side-eyed him, then in a low voice, “Better to have eyes on him. And I’m armed. Now help me.”

  Wesley wasn’t sure this was the best idea at all, but he stepped forward with Litner, each of them grabbing an arm, and dragged Allisto into the house. As they pulled him, the sheet slid off his upper body, and they both stared down at the leathery black wings. “Shit,” Litner said.

  He shut the door and locked it, peeking outside into the darkness.

  Allisto pushed himself up on shaking arms, blinking swollen eyes at Litner. “Need your protection.” He gasped out a sob, then turned his head of black curls to Wesley. “And you...I need your blood.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  They lifted Allisto to his feet, his legs unsteady, stumbling as they led him further into the house. Just then the doorbell rang. Litner jumped. “Damn it. Pizza. Keep him out of sight.”

  Wesley looked like he wanted to protest, but nodded, pulling Allisto back behind the wall.

  Litner opened the door and grabbed the two pizza boxes. The young woman seemed startled by his abruptness. “Here.” He pulled his wallet out and handed her whatever bills were in it.

  She looked at the cash. “A hundred bucks? You already tipped on the website.”

  “Just take it and go!” He slammed the door. He ran back to Wesley, took Allisto’s other arm, and they dragged him into the guest bedroom and lay him down. Allisto trembled so hard the mattress shook. “Help me out, Wesley,” Litner said, wrapping Allisto’s nude, winged body in a quilt. “There’s another blanket in that closet there.”

  “No time,” Allisto croaked, his teeth chattering. Wesley covered him with the second blanket, and Allisto grabbed his wrist. Wesley’s eyes widened. “I need your blood.”

  “I’m not giving you my blood,” Wesley said, pulling his arm back. “Never.”

  Allisto sat up and looked at Litner, emerald eyes pleading. “Please. He’s been hunting me all day and half the night. He’s coming!”

  Litner had holstered his gun, but kept a hand close to it. “What do you mean about Wesley’s blood?”

  “It can mask me.” He looked at Wesley. “I felt you from a mile away. Your energy is unique. Like the other chosen one…it is part of us but different. If I can con
sume it, my signature will be blurred, unidentifiable. Please, Zirub is going to kill me.”

  “I’m sorry,” Litner said. “But Wesley’s blood stays where it is, inside him. Did you order that assassin to come here? To kill those followers? To try and kill your brothers?”

  “No!” Allisto squeaked. Tears leaked from his puffy eyes. “It is all a mistake! But I don’t have time to explain it to you before he gets here, please.”

  Litner and Wesley exchanged a skeptical glance. “If it’s a mistake, why can’t you explain this to your brother?” Litner asked Allisto. “I’m sure Shep will be willing to listen.”

  He shook his head, green eyes gleaming. “I feel him! He has weapons and murderous intent. He’s coming, and I won’t be given a chance to prove my innocence.”

  “I think you’re mistaken. I’ve been with your brother recently. He misses you terribly. Shep will listen to you, I’m certain of it.”

  “I must agree,” Wesley said. “He has been in great pain since your…passing. He will listen to you, Allisto.”

  The trembling started again, and Allisto fell back onto the bed, black wings spread out on either side of him. His face paled further, lavender webs of bruises stark as ink. He looked like death. “I think he’s gonna pass out,” Litner said.

  “Weak...” Allisto whispered. “No time to adjust...weak. I’ve spent all my energy fleeing from him.” His eyelids fluttered, then closed.

  “Allisto?” Wesley said. “Allisto?”

  Litner went to him and checked his pulse. “Allisto?” Allisto groaned but did not open his eyes. Litner turned to Wesley. “Keep him warm, I’ll heat up some soup, maybe if he eats something.” Wesley nodded, but his eyes were wide with fear. Litner paused. “Are you all right?”

  “No,” he said. “Why the hell would I be all right?”

  “I know, stupid question.” He patted Wesley’s shoulder. “Give me two minutes. I’m not having this…person die on my watch. Shep hates me enough as it is. Don’t need a damn target on my back.”

  “What if Shep comes?” Wesley asked. “I don’t want to be here when that goes down. We should just send Allisto away! You said it earlier, this isn’t our problem.”

  “He can barely walk, and he may be going into shock. I can’t toss him out on the street, Wesley, whatever happens.”

  “Shit,” Wesley said. “All right, be quick.”

  As soon as Litner left the room, the door slammed closed behind him. He whirled around, then Wesley was screaming. Litner grabbed the knob, forced it open a couple of inches, then it slammed closed again with incredible force. “Wesley!” he shouted. “Open the door!”

  Wesley’s screams grew louder. Litner tried the knob again, found it wouldn’t budge, and pulled his gun out. Firing straight down toward the floor so he wouldn’t risk hurting those inside the room, the door splintered around the knob, then he shoved it open with his shoulder.

  Allisto backhanded Litner, sending him flying into the wall. He fell forward and his face hit the floor, splitting his lip open. His head spun with dizziness as he lifted it, the carpet stained with blood…and not all of it his. Wiping his mouth, he climbed unsteadily to his feet, alarm making his heart pound.

  Allisto fled the room in a lightning-fast blur, leaving Wesley crumpled in the corner, cradling his arm. Litner ran to him, falling to his knees. “What is it, let me see.”

  Wesley trembled all over. “He bit me. Ripped me open!”

  Litner gently pulled Wesley’s arm out straight. The underside had been savaged, torn jaggedly. The wound was deep and wide.

  “He...I think he drank me.” Wesley’s face had gone sheet white. “I don’t feel so good, Steven. I—”

  “Okay, okay, hang on.” He made a tourniquet of a pillowcase and a belt, wrapping it around Wesley’s wound.

  “Oh God.” Wesley turned his head, a font of vomit spraying onto the floor.

  “Okay,” Litner said, holding him around the middle. “It’s okay.”

  Wesley vomited again. Blood soaked through the makeshift bandage. “I’m going to help you stand up, we need to get you to a hospital. Wesley?” He went limp in Litner’s grasp, and slid to the floor, eyes closed, a stream of vomit on his cheek. Litner felt his neck, then leaned in close to his face. He was breathing but had lost consciousness.

  Tires squealed outside. Jesus Christ what now? Litner turned his head toward the sound, then looked back at Wesley. “I’ll be right back,” he told his unconscious friend, then with gun in hand, he ran to the front door, opening it and stepping outside. A white van was parked half on the sidewalk, half on his lawn, and next to it, Juris, Margol, Shep, and Klee surrounded Allisto, who stumbled on wobbly legs, his chin stained in blood. Dark wings stretched out, his body nude beneath.

  “Allisto, get in the van,” Shep said.

  The black-haired brother let out an ear shattering scream, his eyes blazing yellow in the darkness.

  “Stay right there, Allisto,” Shep said, approaching him. “Just stay right there. We only want to help you.”

  “Not going with you,” Allisto’s hoarse voice shouted. He spat blood on the ground. “You will pay for forsaking me. I will see you destroyed still. I will finish the job.”

  “No one has forsaken you!” Juris said, approaching from the other side. “Let us take you home. Where you’ll be safe.”

  Allisto let out a mad sounding cackle. “Safe?” The word rang out in the night. One of Litner’s neighbors opened their door.

  “Stay inside!” Litner shouted, and the door closed again.

  Balancing on his heels, Allisto’s black wings began to pump, air whistling beneath them.

  “Don’t.” Shep pointed at his brother. “Don’t do it, Allisto, we need to talk.”

  “Fuck you, Zirub,” Allisto shouted. “You didn’t even look for me!”

  “What the fuck are you talking about?” Shep’s voice cracked. “We thought you’d been destroyed. We thought you were gone!”

  Allisto stumbled toward Shep, baring teeth. “Twenty-one days,” he said. “Awake and aware. That’s how long they left me in the void before they pulled me back to the byways. And you never even looked for me.”

  Shep dropped to his knees, lowering the gun. “They put you in the void?”

  “Twenty-one days,” Allisto repeated. “Awake and aware.”

  “I didn’t know,” Shep sobbed. “Allisto, I didn’t know! If I’d known I’d have gotten you out right away!”

  “You didn’t even try,” he said, then launched himself into the air, a whizzing sound as his body took flight.

  Margol pointed his gun skyward, and Shep dove on him. “Don’t!” They tumbled over, then Margol threw him off.

  “He is getting away, Shepherd!” Margol shouted.

  Shep looked skyward, as did Agent Litner. But Allisto was gone. “Those fuckers,” Shep said, his voice laced with tears. “That’s what the Schlarr meant by torture. Those fuckers didn’t just trick us into thinking he was dead. They tossed him into the void.”

  Klee stepped forward, mouth agape as he stared up into the dark sky. “He’s gone mad.”

  “Yes,” Shep said, wiping tears from his eyes. “His mind couldn’t have handled that long in the void without…it’s changed him.”

  “We started to go mad after only three days the first time,” Juris said softly.

  Shep hiccupped a sob. “But I was there to put you all to sleep. I wasn’t there for Allisto this time. He’s right. I should have looked for him. I should have known.”

  “We couldn’t have known!” Margol said. “We all saw him destroyed, this is not your fault.”

  Klee turned to Shep, who climbed to his feet, curls a wild mess on his head. “Shepherd, why can’t I feel him anymore?”

  “I don’t know. But I can’t either.” Shep turned to Litner. “How long was he here?”

  “Wesley needs a hospital!” Litner shouted, then turned and ran inside.

  He heard footsteps following
him, but in his shock and panic, didn’t really care who came into his house. He found Wesley as he’d left him, the bandage soaked through, dark circles under his eyes. He felt his neck. His pulse was steady, but his color was awful.

  He looked up at the brothers who hovered in the doorway, finding Shep’s eyes. “Allisto bit him. Before he passed out, he said Allisto drank from him. Can you help me get him in my car? It’ll be faster than waiting for an ambulance. He probably needs a transfusion.”

  Suddenly another set of footsteps came from the front of the house, and Joey Duvaine rounded the corner. He skidded to a stop when he saw the crowd at the entrance of the bedroom. Shep glanced at him, then turned back to Litner. “Hold that thought.”

  Litner reached under Wesley and lifted his upper body. “He’s lost blood, and I have no idea how much. There’s no time.”

  “For once I’m glad you disobeyed me,” Shep said to Joey.

  Joey wrinkled his nose. “What’s happening? Did you find Allisto?”

  Shep tugged Joey into the room by one arm. “Litner, you can’t take Wesley to a hospital. A blood transfusion will kill him.”

  Cradling Wesley’s limp form, Litner shook his head. “No it won’t. He needs blood! I have no idea how much Allisto took, he locked me out of the room.”

  Shep knelt down and took Litner’s face in his hands. “Calm down. And listen to what I’m saying. There is no blood type that is compatible with his. Do you understand?”

  “I’ll take that chance and let the doctors decide.”

  “Litner! If he’s given pure human blood, he’ll die. His body chemistry will reject it.”

  “You don’t know that!”

  Shep’s jaw tightened. “I do know it. I raised him from ten years old, do you really think I didn’t figure some shit out along the way? We have to wake him and give him some of Joey’s blood.”

  “What?” Joey blinked his ice blue eyes.

  “Your blood has the exact same elements as Wesley’s,” Shep said. “I won’t take too much, don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. Litner, I need a knife and a receptacle. A bowl.”