Daughters of Death (Postmortem Anomalies Book 2)

by Josiah Upton

  In the living room Dalton and I sit on sofas opposite from each other, only a coffee table between us. I think this is safe enough. And though my dad is supposed to be in the kitchen, he keeps peeking out at us every thirty seconds. Strangely, it’s both annoying and comforting. Dalton takes a sip from the juice my dad gave him, his eyes locked on me the whole time. He can’t stop staring at me. My Prisoner insists this young man is both interested and willing to satisfy all of her desires. I tell that bitch to shut up.

  I start looking around the room. “Thank you,” I say.

  He finishes his gulp, wiping his lips with the back of his hand. “For what?”

  “For looking out for me in Denver. I’m sorry you had to do that.”

  “Me too,” he says. “It was a madhouse in there. And I can’t believe Rigg did that to his brother. After Thomas and I almost got into it, I figure he’d be the one to snap, if any. Benjamin was just so chill. He didn’t seem like that kind of…”

  “Ugger?” I ask. Ironically, now that I actually am a Hybrid, the word doesn’t seem to bother me as much. “I guess you can start calling me that now, huh?”

  “Not really,” he says, rubbing his thumb over the glass in his hand. “You’re nothing like I was expecting. You’re… blue. And sitting there all calm and having a conversation with me. I came here thinking I’d have to see you through a hole in the wall. Watching you shove bloody meat into your mouth.”

  “Sorry to disappoint,” I say. My stomach churns again. “And I do eat a lot. Pretty much all day, though I never gain an ounce. My dad did some research, says the Hybrid metabolism is kinda wonky. It’s extremely high when food is available, but slows down to almost zero when it isn’t. It’s highly adaptive, it fluctuates. That’s why it’s almost impossible to starve a Hybrid.”

  “Weird,” he says, leaning forward. I can see the flesh of his neck and upper chest when his collar droops. “But seriously, you’re ok with me here? You don’t want to leap over this table and jump on top of me?”

  Lust and Hunger both giggle wickedly as they dig sharp claws into my guts, and drag them across my skin. I’m not sure how aware Dalton is of Hybrid sexual compulsion, but his comment doesn’t help. And if this new body makes me crave every “mature” male, even someone I detested while I was human, maybe it is best that I’m locked away from everyone. What if I encountered the likes of Caesar or Mr. Neal, and suddenly had urges for them? If Hybrids can vomit, then that’s what would happen.

  “I’m fine,” I utter again, growing less confident in the phrase every time I say it. “My dad hasn’t exactly figured out yet why I’m so different, but one good thing is that my self-control is unheard of for a new Hybrid.”

  “You don’t have to take those pills?”

  “No,” I answer, though having to deal with two Hybrid symptoms (as Zaul called them) at once is making me think I could use some. “He hasn’t filled the order for my Mortetine, but so far I’m alright without them.”

  “And you get to sleep in your own bedroom?” he asks. “Unlocked and free to come out whenever you want?”

  Mention of my bedroom prods those thoughts back in to action, and my eyes are scanning his body again. I’m really starting to hate myself.

  “Enough about me,” I say. I sniff him through the air, pushing my uninvited desires to the side, and I smell stale cigarettes. “I see you haven’t quit smoking. Are you still working at the Mart?”

  “Okay,” he says. “That’s just creepy. I haven’t had a smoke since last night. Can you tell I had frozen lasagna for dinner? What else can that freaky nose pick up?”

  I sniff again, and there’s something peculiar there. “I also smell a woman.” My eye twitches. A few days ago I had guessed he was still a virgin, but this scent makes me think twice. Maybe he has a girlfriend I don’t know about, or just some casual fling with one of the more promiscuous girls from school. But more importantly, why do I care? I figure it’s some sort of primal response to sexual competition. That explanation doesn’t make me feel any better, though. Just reinforces the fact that I’m a wild, savage beast.

  “Well, I do live with my sister and mom,” he says. My muscles relax a little bit. “Speaking of my mom, I was worried I’d have to explain to her where I was after Denver. Your dad wasn’t about to make a stop in Pueblo with the way you were, and I just missed the bus when we got here. I didn’t get back ‘til pretty late. But she was passed out piss-drunk when I got home. That happens a lot, but not often enough to bank on.”

  “Wait, you were worried?” I asked. “I thought Dalton Harris did whatever the hell he wants.”

  “Not at home,” he responds. “With my dad gone, I inherited the Man-of-the-House badge, and she holds me to it. If I’m not there when I’m supposed to, and she’s sober, she starts asking questions. And it’s hard lying to my mom. It was bad enough pretending that my APA reward money was tied up in paperwork and a waiting period. You better believe she’s been asking about that. And I never came up with a plan for explaining why I was going to use it for Zaul.”

  I had completely forgotten about that money. Unless my dad moved it, it’s still hiding under my bed, all $500,000. “Well, you don’t have to anymore, you can have it all back now. It’s not like we can use it for his transfer anymore.”

  Dalton raises his eyebrows, and leans back into the sofa.

  “That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” I ask. “It wasn’t to check up on me, it was so you could reclaim your cash, right?”

  His silence confirms it, and once again I ask myself the question why do I care? It’s not like a lasting friendship could exist between someone like him and someone like me. We weren’t even friends to begin with, and now these stupid urges make that a confusing, dangerous – and ultimately pointless – endeavor. I shouldn’t care, but I can’t deny something stirs inside me. It’s my Rage, triggered by the realization that no one outside these walls cares about me. They never will.

  “Fine,” I spit, standing up. The quick motion pushes the sofa across the hardwood floor about a foot. “I’ll get your cash.”

  “I have no other money to support my family,” he says. I stop in my tracks. “I lost my job. When I left work and I didn’t tell my boss, they fired me.”

  “Yeah,” I say with a bitter chuckle. “I brought that to your attention before we left, and I distinctly remember you saying that the Mart wasn’t going anywhere. But it looks like your job did. That’s on you, idiot!” My dad pops his head into the living room to address the commotion, but I hold my hand up to him. “Just let me get your stupid money, so you can leave. Like everybody else has.”

  “Genny,” he says, rushing over and blocking my path to the stairs. In this new body, I could actually pick him up and throw him out of my way. The thought is both exciting and terrifying. And maybe he sees in my eyes a little of what he saw in Zaul’s when he got socked in the face, because he takes a step back. “Yes, I came here because I needed the money. But that’s not the only reason. I needed to see you, to make sure you’re alright.”

  “Well, now you’ve seen. And as you can tell, everything is just peachy.” I push him aside. It was only a nudge, but he nearly stumbles over himself. My dad is there to stabilize him, and as I stomp up the stairs the two begin talking about me in hushed voices. Yet another boy teaming up with my father against me. I’m done with that. It only takes a moment to grab the bag from under my bed. The weight of all those stacks once strained my arm, but now it feels like a feather pillow.

  I bring it back downstairs. “I don’t need this anymore.” I throw the bag at him, hoping to actually make him fall this time. Instead it knocks him against the wall, making a painting crash to the floor. Good enough. “And I don’t need your pity visits.”

  “It’s not…” he begins, grabbing my arm with his hand. I jerk it away, but it’s too late. The sensation of skin against skin has already electrified me, warming my body up all over. Suddenly I’m not thinking about the ignorant
, selfish things he’s done or said. I only see a body, a statue of skin, muscles and heat. I’m looking through the eyes of my Lust now, taking in his handsome face, broad shoulders, and an ensemble of easily tearable clothes that hide the relief to my desire…

  But I’m also hungry. The burning in my stomach interrupts my Lust’s mental rampage, and for a second I do remember those ignorant and selfish things. I remember him pretending to care about me, only to get back his money. My Rage joins the party. Desire burns in me to ravage Dalton, then tear him to pieces, then eat him.

  I feel like I’m breaking down, the things in my new life pulling me apart in all different directions. I love my father, but he also smells like food. I don’t want Dalton here, but I’m pissed that he came with other motives. I detest him, but my body also wants him. I’m lonely, but I want to be left alone. I want to forget Zaul, but I can’t let him go. I’m alive, but I’m also dead.

  I feel everything. I am everything. And I am nothing.

  I scream. “GET AWAY! GET THE FUCK AWAY YOU BULLSHIT FUCKFACES!!!”

  “Genny!” my father shouts, both fear and hurt on his face. Something dark inside me demands that I smash that face. Instead I grab the stair rails and rip at them, screaming again at the top of my lungs. The wood groans and splinters, and with one final flex the entire thing rips out. I’m not done, either. I start smashing every mirror, every picture my silver eyes find, coming at last to one of my mother. Dead for so long I can barely remember her. Where were you? I think to myself. Nowhere. You died, leaving me to die. And now that I have, I can’t find you.

  My knuckles fly into the frame, again and again, pulverizing the glass into dust. When there’s nothing left but ground up bits of memories, I turn to the two horrified men looking on. They’ve witnessed the monster coming out. If it happens again, they might not survive.

  “Lock me up downstairs. Never let me out. I don’t want to see you…” I point to Dalton. “…you…” I point to my father. “…or anyone else, ever again. I shouldn’t even exist.”

  I kick the shattered glass and broken wood aside, and start walking toward the basement. What stops me is a knock on our front door. My dad peeks out the window, and slowly turns back to us. “It’s the APA.”

  Chapter 32

  Genny

  “Genny,” my father whispers over his shoulder. “Go sit in the living room.”

  “What?” I hiss. “That’s the APA. Shouldn’t I be locked up, or something?”

  The agents give another knock.

  “Look at this mess,” my dad whispers. “Only a Hybrid could do this. There’s no point in hiding you now. Just go sit down, and make sure you’re calm. I’ll take care of the rest.”

  The knock comes again, this time more insistent. Almost pounding. I run to the living room, my heart pumping, with Dalton only a few steps behind. There is no reason for him to be here – he’s neither family nor a guardian. Shouldn’t he at least get lost? Too late, he’s already sitting down, this time on the same sofa as me, only one foot between us. Thankfully those pulls of Lust are gone now, because all of my thoughts and emotions are occupied by the suits behind that door. I hear my father open it.

  “Good morning, Assistant Director Schutzhorne,” he says, with all the fake enthusiasm that he can manufacture. “What a pleasant surprise!”

  Assistant Director? Why the hell would somebody like that show up at our door? And the name Schutzhorne isn’t in my mental registry, but it tingles something in my brain. I barely recall my mother’s funeral, but one thing that stood out was a scary-looking man that came and talked to my father. He introduced himself to me, but his name was strange, and I was distracted by the creepy look on his face. Whatever it actually was, the only label that stuck for my 4-year-old mind was Jewels Horse Shoe. I’d all but completely forgotten about that.

  “Good morning, Gordon,” says a steely voice. It gives me chills. I hear footsteps into the entryway, and I now smell Schutzhorne, and another stranger with him. Just more food to my Hunger, and more sex objects to my Lust. I can’t handle what I just went through again. I wish I had that Mortetine. A long silence follows, before the man speaks again. “What happened here?”

  My father steps back, now visible to me and Dalton. A nervous smile emerges from his bearded face, and he glances over at us. “I’m not sure how high up the papers travel, but I recently applied for guardianship of my daughter, Genny.”

  Schutzhorne chuckles dryly. “No, my desk is simply too full to have applications pushed across it. But I reviewed your employee file before I came here, and saw that you had applied, and that your Phase I daughter was…” He chuckles again. A sick feeling grows in my stomach, having this man talking about me. “How can I put this? Well past due for transformation.” Another long pause follows, and I grip the armrest of the sofa, feeling the urge to crush it in my hand. “Did she do all of this?”

  I shouldn’t be so terrified, since my father has legal right to keep me here. But having this APA bigshot show up and ask questions about me is panic-striking. I gulp, loud enough for Dalton to hear. Comforting clearly not his talent, he awkwardly nudges me with a knuckle, and pats my knee once. My Lust only surges lightly below the surface, all my attention still on the invisible visitors.

  “Yes,” my father answers. “She threw a little tantrum. As you can imagine, a new Hybrid has quite the struggle with anger management and strength control. Perhaps I should put her in time-out!”

  My dad laughs, but Schutzhorne ignores him, walking past and into my view. He’s a little older now, with fewer strands of hair slicked across his shiny head. But this is definitely “Jewels Horse Shoe”, the man that frightened my four-year-old self. And still manages to frighten me now.

  “Where is she? Can I see her?” His dark, scanning eyes move into the living room. Dalton might as well not be there, because this man stares only at me, a toothy half-grin stuck on his face. “What is this?” he asks, pointing at me. “This isn’t a Hybrid Reanimate. It’s just a girl in makeup and a wig. Is this some kind of joke, Grest?”

  “Not at all, Sir,” My father answers, quickly coming behind the sofa. “This is my daughter, Genny. She transformed just yesterday, and the result wasn’t like anything I expected. I can only assume her age at transformation had something to do with it. But I assure you, she is a Hybrid Reanimate.” His voice is shaking, and I can sense the tremoring of his body behind me. He seems just as scared as I am. “And I, uh, first planned to keep her in a secure room, but her level of restraint is remarkable, so she’s up here with me. The guardianship regulations clearly state the Hybrid only be confined within the residence. I have the papers if you…”

  “I’m familiar with the regulations,” Schutzhorne says dismissively. He comes closer, the shoulders of his suit unmoving as he stalks across the hardwood floor. I can smell his flesh more clearly as he nears. The Lust stirs slightly, but not like it did with Dalton, perhaps because this man is older. Mostly what I’m feeling now is Hunger, and the general desire to get away from him. He stops a few feet from me, unbuttons his suit jacket, and crouches slightly to get a better look.

  Without warning or permission, he licks his thumb, and rubs it across my forehead. My Prisoner snarls, barking to grab that hand and bite down. I grit my teeth, gathering every last ounce of willpower. I can’t lose control, especially not with this man. I bet it would end with bodybags for all three of us. Schutzhorne stands and holds his thumb up for inspection, to see if any makeup rubbed off, but it’s clear. “Peculiar.”

  “Like I said,” my dad speaks up, a subdued anger in his voice. “This is not a joke. Despite her unprecedented appearance, my daughter is a Hybrid. How else could she tear down that bannister?”

  Schutzhorne’s eyes narrow at me skeptically, then widen with some sort of sick fascination. Like a child at the zoo. I want to tear them out. “So you really are a Hybrid, then?”

  “I am,” I answer. “And could you please step back a foot, or five
?”

  The Assistant Director’s jaw drops, but his feet don’t move. “She can speak, too? Already?”

  “Yes,” my dad says. “She can talk, she can read and write. Everything she was capable of doing before. From what I can tell, her IQ hasn’t dropped one point, and she’s even retained all of her memory.”

  “A Hybrid with complete retention of intelligence, skills and memory. Absolutely incredible. And the self-control is astounding,” Schutzhorne says, his eyes greedy with curiosity. He casually points to Dalton, acknowledging him for the first time since he arrived. “Only transformed yesterday, and she can sit next to this guy without tearing off his clothes or his flesh.” He finally looks at Dalton. “Who are you?”

  “Dalton Harris,” he answers, standing up. “I’m a friend of the family.”

  “Julius Schutzhorne,” he says, taking Dalton’s hand to shake it. Then something flickers across his tight, toothy face. “Harris… You were the kid that stopped the Hybrid teacher at that school in Pueblo, right?”

  Dalton nods. “And my father Douglas was a containment officer.”

  “Yes,” Schutzhorne says briskly, dropping Dalton’s hand like a bag of bricks. “Douglas Harris. The one caught with those perverted video tapes.”

  Dalton’s hands clench into fists, his lip sneering. I’ve seen this expression enough times to know what he’s thinking, and what he’s planning to do. I catch his gaze, and subtly shake my head. Dalton exhales slowly, and retreats across the living room, putting Schutzhorne out of swinging distance.

  The Assistant Director’s unsettling gaze comes back to me. “She truly is a wonder, Gordon. One of a kind. If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to bring her back to HQ, for some non-invasive testing. It could really help our research.”

  “No,” my father says quickly. Schutzhorne’s grin fades as he looks up at him. “I mean, no thank you, Sir. We’ve only just started this new situation, and I really want to get things settled here. As calm and controlled as she is, I believe bringing her out now would be unwise. Wouldn’t you agree?”