Old Wounds

by Ren Hamilton

  Swallowing the bite of sandwich, she coughed into her fist. “What are you doing?”

  “Allisto is alive,” he said.

  Her jaw dropped. “What?”

  His eyebrows raised, though he still didn’t look at her. “He’s gone insane. And he’s earned it. I’m going to try to get him back, of course, make him see reason. But I fear this may end badly.” He finally looked at her, his beautiful green eyes sad. “I need to ask you something. It’s important.”

  She took a deep breath and looked out at the park. “Well, you could have given me a little warning. I mean...” Her heart thudded, pulse racing not from fear, but at his presence, so close. When he wasn’t screaming obscenities at her, her body still responded to him with longing, something she’d done for so long there was a part of her that had forgotten how to not want Shep. He said nothing, just kept his gaze on her. Finally she turned to him. “All right. What?”

  He cast his eyes down, fidgeting with a thread bracelet around his wrist. “When you slept with my brother, did you use condoms?”

  She flinched and slid away from him, a rush of anxiety making her stomach cold. She stared at him, her mouth going dry, and couldn’t find her voice.

  “There is a valid reason I’m asking. I assure you, it’s not simply morbid curiosity.”

  She coughed, looking down at her knees.

  “Robin?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Of course. Yes.”

  “And no breakage or anything?”

  She turned to him, feeling sick. “No.”

  He nodded. “Good. Allisto may be on a mission to harm everyone carrying a taint from me and my kind. Kelinda, Patrick, and the others are well-guarded. I just wanted to make sure you weren’t on that list. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” He finally looked at her, brushing a strand of hair from his eyes. “You’re feeling all right? I mean...normal?”

  “I’m fine, Shep.”

  “All right, then.” He stood, then simply started walking away.

  Robin scowled at his back. “Shep!”

  He stopped and turned around.

  “How...how did you know?”

  His eyes narrowed. “Did you just meet me or something?” He turned away again. “I know everything.”

  She watched him walk off through the park, as that one bite of sandwich threatened to come up on her.

  Chapter Twenty

  “Ouch!” Wesley winced as Litner patted an alcohol swab over his arm. “I don’t think this is necessary, I mean, the wound is almost healed.”

  Litner gave it another quick swipe, then tossed it aside and grabbed the antibacterial cream. “Yes, well...” He applied a dollop and then wrapped Wesley’s arm in gauze. “This wound was made by teeth, whether they originated in a heavenly realm or not. Can’t be too careful.”

  Wesley examined the bandage. “Why do all Shep’s enemies keep coming after me? I’m supposed to be the black sheep of the family. I should at least have the benefit of being ignored.” He got up off the couch and frowned at the abandoned sleeping bags rolled up against the wall. “Where have they gone now?”

  Litner shrugged. “I’m not sure. I’d finally crashed out on the floor in your room, and when I got up, they were gone. Shep left a note that he’d call me later.”

  Wesley shook his head, rubbing a hand over his pale blond hair. “This is so bizarre. It’s like you two are dating now or something.”

  “No,” Litner said. “It’s not like that at all.”

  Wesley chuckled. He sat down on the other end of the couch. “Why do you think he saved me?”

  “I’d guess because he needs me and my connections to help keep order during all of this. If you’d died at his brother’s hand...mouth, whatever, it would have hindered this fragile ceasefire we’ve been maintaining. Also, he still cares for you.”

  Wesley scoffed. “Wrong.”

  “He does. He told me so.”

  Wesley scowled at Litner for a long moment, then scratched at his bandage. “Did Joey give his blood voluntarily, or did Shep have to smack him around?”

  “What do you think?”

  Wesley’s blue eyes widened. “That guy really hates me.”

  “Wesley, he’s a sociopath. Just be thankful you didn’t end up like him.”

  “Oh, I’m thankful, believe me. I told you Shep tried, right? To suppress my conscience, all those years ago?”

  Litner nodded. “I remember. You said it didn’t occur to him until after he’d already made too many changes to you, so it didn’t work.”

  “Yeah,” he said softly, rubbing his forehead. “But because of my insubordination, he kept trying.” He met Litner’s eyes. “He dosed the shit out of me back then.” He winced. “I can’t even tell you how much of his blood I took.”

  “I’m not surprised to hear it,” Litner said. “Especially if it’s true that you can’t even tolerate human blood. It’s no wonder all the monsters are going straight for you.”

  Wesley paled. “Yeah.”

  “Wesley...” Litner tapped his temple with his pen. “Patrick told me what happened at the bar, when you ran into Joey.”

  He stiffened. “And?”

  “And I’m wondering if you have any of these abilities the brothers have. Joey seems to have acquired a few lately.”

  He shook his head. “Shep targeted those abilities in Joey and brought them out after the bond was broken with Patrick. Without Patrick as his Shield, he wanted Joey to be able to defend himself, if need be.”

  Litner stared at him.

  “What?”

  “I’m just thinking, it might be of value for you to be able to defend yourself too.”

  “You gonna give me a gun?”

  “I’m not talking about a gun.”

  Wesley paced the floor in front of the couch. “I know you’re not.” He stopped and glanced at Litner. “I don’t want any of their abilities, Steven. I don’t want to be like them.”

  “But physically, you are. Wouldn’t it be prudent to take advantage of that? You’ve almost been killed twice in a week. I’ll be keeping a guard on you when I’m not home, but these guys aren’t exactly prepared for someone like Allisto, if he comes.”

  Wesley hung his head.

  “Wesley.” Litner stood and faced him. “During the raid at Forest Bluffs, my men had their weapons melted right out of their hands by the brothers. Within minutes they were either dead or tied up, helpless. These were men with training, the best.”

  Wesley turned away, shoulders tensing. “I just want to go back home, pour myself a nip of brandy, and curl up with my dog and a good book.”

  Litner walked across the room and looked out the window, hands in his pockets. “Then that should be your reason.”

  Wesley stepped up beside him. “Reason for what?”

  “When I’m on a particularly dangerous assignment, in order to shut everything out and get it done, I always try to think of one thing to look forward to when it’s over.” He turned to Wesley. “I once hid in the broom closet of a known terrorist while he sold automatic weapons at his kitchen table four feet away. I kept telling myself, if I do this, give it my best and get through it, I’ll be able to go home, put my sweats on, and play computer games until my eyes go bleary.”

  Wesley smirked. “Your leisure time is about as exciting as mine, then.”

  “But it makes me happy. What’s your dog’s name?”

  “Biscuit.”

  Litner cocked an eyebrow.

  “It was the only way I could lure him when I found him, with biscuits. After that it was all he would answer to.”

  “Okay, so until Shep deals with his rather extreme family problems, you need to stay safe. You need to be able to defend yourself against anything, so you can go home and see Biscuit. Let that be your motivator.”

  Wesley leaned against the window ledge, crossing his arms. “You mentioned hiding in a closet. That sounds good. How about I practice that?”

  “You know that�
�s not what I’m talking about.”

  Wesley chewed his lower lip. “You want me to see if I have any telekinetic abilities.”

  He nodded. “Back in the lab, Preet knocked me across the room with a glance. Later on, when Shep and I found him in the street, he threw that power at us again. He took out two streetlights and a couple of cars. But Shep was able to deflect it somehow when it reached us, push back. He saved my life.”

  “But that’s Shep! It’s the way he’s made, he’s older than dirt!”

  “Don’t you want to at least try? I mean aren’t you curious?”

  “No, I’m scared. And no amount of puppy imagery is going to change that.”

  Litner walked over and sat back down on the couch. “Then it’s your decision.”

  Wesley followed him over and plunked down beside him. “You mean it’s my funeral.”

  Litner shrugged. “You stay here until the threat is over. I don’t like the idea of you alone up in New Hampshire, like a beacon for Allisto.”

  “I hate the idea of you and your guns having to protect me.”

  “I don’t mind. I’m merely suggesting you find out what natural defenses you have, whether they’re dormant or not. I’m not asking you to practice violence, Wesley. I’m urging you to be safe.”

  Wesley pulled his knees up. “Look, all of these abilities, strengths, whatever, Shep controls them. He was able to turn Patrick, and my friend Rollie, may he rest in peace, into an automaton that would throw itself in front of a train if the situation called for it. This isn’t exactly child’s play, and I don’t think I should mess with it on my own. And if you think I’m asking Shep for help, think again. You don’t know what it’s like for me to be around him.”

  “You know who Kelinda Wade is, right?”

  “Yes, she went nuts after sucking Joey’s cock for too long.”

  “How very blunt of you.”

  “Thinking of Duvaine makes me say bad words.”

  Litner chuckled. “I hear that. At any rate, she also developed extraordinary strength. Shep didn’t bring that out in her. It just happened. A side effect of being infected. She slept with Joey for a couple of months. You consumed Shep’s blood, direct from the source for years.”

  Wesley hugged his knees and rested his chin on them. “What exactly do you want me to do?”

  Litner stood. “Come on. To the basement. Let’s do some experimenting.”

  ****

  In the basement, Wesley’s head swiveled around, examining the shelves of neatly lined cleaning products, brooms and mops arranged with precision in the corners, a few rogue pieces of furniture stacked like perfectly fitted puzzle pieces. The floor looked clean enough to eat off of. “Holy crap, you are a neat freak, Steven!”

  “I like things a certain way,” he said. “Come help me with this, if your arm is feeling okay.”

  Wesley walked over and helped him drag an eight-foot mirror away from the wall. It was extremely heavy, thick and wide, with a carved, dark wood frame and solid base stand.

  When they’d dragged it several feet from the wall, Litner circled around, examining it.

  “So what’s this for?” Wesley asked. “I already know how pretty I am.”

  “Step back, about ten feet, and face the mirror.”

  Wesley walked backwards until Litner told him to stop. The agent grasped the sides and gave the mirror a shake. “This is an antique inherited from my grandmother, and it’s solid, very heavy. If you can crack it, melt it, great. If you can actually move it, then we’re definitely in business.”

  Wesley’s heart thumped, his palms sweating. “It’s bad luck to break a mirror.”

  “It’s worse luck to have your head exploded by a celestial Power. Now line yourself up.” He grasped Wesley’s shoulders and moved him an inch to the side. “Good.” He stepped away from Wesley, into the rear corner of the room. “Okay. Try to knock it over.”

  Wesley scowled at him. “I can’t even do that with my body. The thing weighs a ton! How am I supposed to knock it over with my mind? Can’t we start with a mop or something?”

  Litner raised his hands. “Just look at it and think...push.”

  Wesley took a deep breath and faced the mirror. He stared at it for half a minute, imagining it toppling over. The mirror didn’t even quiver. “Nothing’s happening.”

  “Concentrate.”

  “I am concentrating. I have no idea what I’m doing, and neither do you.”

  “All right.” Litner came back to stand beside him. “Last night, do you remember what happened in the room, with Allisto?”

  “Yeah, winged bastard bit my arm.”

  “Before that. The door. Did he slam it with his fist, or did he just look at it?”

  “I don’t remember, it all happened pretty fast. He grabbed my arm and knocked me to the floor, I remember that.” His teeth gritted. “I couldn’t get away from him, it was like he was made of iron.”

  Litner slowly stepped back away from Wesley. “And what did you want to do to him? If you could have done something?”

  Wesley looked at him and shrugged. “I wanted to throw him off me. Where are you going?”

  Litner stepped back into the corner and nodded. “I want you to think about that. Remember it in great detail. Think of that moment you wanted so desperately to throw him off you. The pain when he bit you. I want you to look at that mirror, and think of Allisto in that moment.”

  He shook his head. “I know what you’re trying to do, but I don’t think anger is the trigger, or fear, or any emotion. I’ve seen Shep move things with his mind, and he’s always calm, still, focused. I just don’t think I have it in me.”

  “Okay,” Litner said. “Maybe you don’t. But would you at least give it a try? I mean really try. If nothing happens, we’ll go upstairs and watch a movie, and I won’t mention it again.”

  He gave Litner a little bow. “I will try. But I get to pick the movie.”

  “Fair enough. Whenever you’re ready.”

  Wesley turned back to the mirror. He tried to clear his mind. Recalling Allisto’s teeth clamping down on his arm, that awful pain when the skin broke, he stared at his reflection ten feet away. His stomach churned, and blood rushed to his cheeks. But the mirror didn’t even twitch. Taking another breath, he tried again. He focused his mind and tried to block all thoughts other than the mirror, and Allisto’s attack.

  His stomach lurched again, and it dawned on him that instead of summoning any rage he’d felt, he was associating the attack with the sickness he’d felt afterward. Maybe he could projectile vomit on the mirror, and that would make Steven happy.

  It was probably because it was Joey’s blood, he thought darkly. Foul man like that must have foul blood too, it would make anyone sick. He remembered his cold blue eyes at the bar, radiating with violence and burning hatred. I don’t answer questions from Shep’s reject. For the first time in his life, he’d wanted to strike someone. Just wind up and punch Joey right in his perfect little nose, watch the blood—

  The mirror trembled.

  With an echoing bang like an igniting bomb, it shattered. But that wasn’t right...it dispersed into pieces so small it appeared to be shimmering dust. He gasped and stepped back as the dust hung in the air for a moment, then like metal to a magnet, shot back and hit the wall.

  Wesley stumbled and Litner was there at his side. Steadying him, Litner took a step toward the wall. Wesley couldn’t breathe. The stone wall glimmered as though smeared in a starburst pattern with shiny silver paint. Litner walked up to the wall, and Wesley slowly followed.

  Running his finger along the glittering stone, the agent pulled back quickly. He showed Wesley his finger.

  “You’re bleeding.”

  Litner nodded, turning back to the wall. “Glass. Wood. Everything. Imbedded in the stone.” He turned to Wesley, whose body had begun to tremble. “It didn’t just shatter. It’s like paste.”

  “Paste?” Wesley whispered.

  “Were
you thinking about Allisto’s attack when this happened?”

  Wesley swallowed. “No.”

  “What were you thinking about?” A phone rang in Litner’s pocket and he took it out. He glanced at Wesley. “It’s Shep.” Wesley went stiff as Litner brought it to his ear. “Yes.”

  Wesley could hear Shep’s voice clearly as he screamed into the phone. “Litner, what the FUCK are you doing over there?”

  Chapter Twenty-One

  After hanging up on Agent Litner, Shep hurried back out to the living room. “Has it stopped bleeding?”

  Juris lifted the ice pack off Joey’s nose. “Not yet.”

  Joey lay flat on the couch, a trickle of blood seeping sluggishly out one nostril. “What the hell happened to me?” he gurgled.

  Margol dabbed his nose with a tissue, then Juris pressed the ice pack down again.

  “I’m not certain,” Shep said. “But I’m going to find out.”

  Klee stepped hesitantly into the room. He frowned down at Joey, then turned to Shep. “He was standing in the kitchen making a sandwich, then he just...flew back over the table.”

  “Did he land on his back?” Shep asked.

  Joey nodded. “On my back,” he said, his voice muffled beneath the ice pack.

  “He didn’t hit his face that I saw,” Margol said. “Not sure why his nose is bleeding.”

  Shep stepped over and pushed Juris aside. “Let me see.” He lifted the ice pack. Blood trickled from Joey’s nostril, but slower now. “Get me a towel.”

  Klee ran off, then returned quickly with a kitchen towel, handing it to Shep, who pressed it down on Joey’s nose. “Do you feel lightheaded? Any pain anywhere? Dizzy?”

  “I can’t talk while you’re doing that,” Joey mumbled, so Shep lifted the towel. “Help me up.”

  Shep grasped his shoulders and helped him sit. Joey swiped at his nose, his hand coming away with a small stain. “I feel fine now,” he said. “But it hurt like hell when it happened. Like I got punched.” He looked up at Shep. “What happened to me? Did Allisto do this somehow?”