Whisper

by P. S. Power

  Still, when they went outside, into the rest of the world, most people took pains to have other types of clothing on. Shoes, jeans and shirts. Sweaters as well, even if he never felt the cold that intensely or at least hadn’t so far. His large hands and feet meant that he was going to need specific styles, however. Things with large openings. Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to get them on in the first place. The truth was that he hadn’t spent a lot of time on the idea, only a few minutes, since the other research had seemed far more pressing.

  His voice low, since there was little choice for him in that, he ended the call.

  “I’ll do that. Goodbye.”

  “Bye, sweetie. Talk to you then.” Mary sounded happier than when the call began, if he could guess at such things with his limited skills so far.

  It was a thing that he felt for himself, of course. It was good to know that she wasn’t still locked away or being harmed by bad men. Finding her to be at her own home, with help, if only from a lawyer, meant that part of the constant worrying he’d been doing could be set aside. Not all of it by any means. Just having confirmation that the situation wasn’t as bad as it could be was enough to leave him feeling more comfortable.

  Turning the phone off with a button tap, as he’d been shown how to do, he wandered into the kitchen, where Brenner had assembled some food for them. It wasn’t just a bit of fruit though, being two full plates of food. Those were settled in the living room, on the table he liked to work at.

  She glanced at the things, and then signaled him to sit across from her, in front of one of the plates.

  “I know, salad is girl food. It’s not too high in protein though, so that should work for you. Do you like vinaigrette?”

  She waved at the leaves and cut up bits of tomato and some other things that he couldn’t identify immediately. Except that they seemed to have the texture of plants, which probably meant they were safe enough for him. That, the covering for the food, which was a sauce of some sort, seemed to be fine enough. It smelled a bit sharp and biting, with an interesting combination of other things inside and under that.

  “I don’t know. How do we eat this?” There were forks on the table, along with cloth napkins which was different than anything he’d done before. Most of his food had been eaten with his fingers.

  That meant he got a lesson in food stabbing, as well as controlling how much of it went into his mouth. It was good enough, really. The food seemed to fit with him, after it was done, not leaving him feeling ill at all. Thinking of that, the bits of meat he’d eaten in the past before working out that it left him feeling less than good got him to shudder a bit. It was an involuntary reaction.

  Tiffany smiled and looked at him, then his plate. She didn’t say anything though, since she was using body language to ask if he’d found it sufficient.

  “The salad was good. I was just thinking about eating meat. That was less than pleasant.” For affect, he shuddered again.

  This time it got a laugh.

  “Ah. Well, I eat that kind of thing but you don’t have to, if it isn’t your way. Now, I promised a movie. What do you want to watch?”

  Liam had no idea what would be offered at all, or how to find out. Mary had always chosen for him, in the past. Normally with an eye toward what he’d seen having some kind of life lesson involved in it. Rather than struggle with the idea, he simply looked into the living room, which they were technically already in, at the very large television screen there.

  “Whatever people like most?” That should be safe enough, if it was commonly acceptable.

  That, it turned out, was a rated “R” movie about an incredibly violent man with mental problems and his computer-generated friends. They went around killing people and causing explosions for over an hour and a half. It was clear that there were jokes involved as well, though Liam honestly didn't understand most of them. It meant there would be a lot to look up, later.

  As soon as the screen was turned off, Brenner winked at him.

  “Now, just remember not to do any of that and you’ll have a valuable lesson already this evening. We watch that kind of thing. Doing it isn’t allowed. The things that would hurt others, I mean. Not unless you’re attacked first.” She seemed uneasy for a second, as if he might not understand the concept of self-defense.

  He’d covered that in his reading already, however. Lightly, though it had been there.

  “Like with Vern the other day, when he was holding me? It was right to stop him from harming me, and not bad that his wrist broke when we fell. Then we stopped fighting, since he didn’t want to hurt me anymore, after that. Going on would be bad. So would killing.” There was some gray area involved on that last bit, he knew. Sometimes you could kill, if it was needed to protect yourself or another person. The rules for that were really picky though, for humans.

  Even most of them didn’t really understand how they worked.

  Tiff relaxed then, sitting on her sofa, leaning back a little to show that she was suddenly more comfortable with the situation.

  “Exactly. You know Liam, working with you is a lot easier than I thought it would be. I’m not exactly parent material, you know? Still, you pretty much take care of yourself, which makes it all a lot easier. I feel like I should be doing more. Not leaving you alone all day and that kind of thing?” She grinned at him, though there was concern in the mix as well.

  He was supposed to say something, he thought, to make her feel better about how she’d arranged her day, seeing to her job instead of him all the time.

  Nothing came to mind as to how to do that, so he changed the topic.

  “I have a lot to look up now. From the movie and other things. My discussion with Mary. It seems that the charges will probably be dropped, as I suspected. There’s no proof that can be entered into the court. At that time it will be impossible for the Child Protective Services to intervene, since no crime or neglect has taken place. I know that you indicated it could take much longer and so did Mary. That doesn’t totally match up with what I read about the topic so far. So, either both of you are wrong or I missed something. I need to look into it.” The odds of both women being incorrect seemed very small to him.

  Interestingly, the red-haired woman, who was in a large shirt that pulled over her head at the moment, in a soft pink color, let her head tilt to one side. Sharply.

  “That… It probably isn’t wrong. There are factors involved that aren’t strictly part of the law, which is why things might not go that way. It isn’t illegal to make a person like you or anything. Getting the parts for it can be, which is what we were going after. She covered her tracks too well… that doesn’t mean the system won’t drag its feet in regards to giving her what she wants, which is you.”

  That what was being described seemed off was interesting. He tried to balance it all in his head, which meant he didn't whisper at the other woman for a long while.

  “That sounds… Petty. I think. Is that the word? The system is being petty, punishing her for something that isn’t against the rules, because they don’t like what she did inside of them?”

  Brenner made a face at him then. It was more than a little bit annoyed. Anger was in there as well.

  Then she shrugged, sullenly.

  “I guess. We aren’t really supposed to use red tape to make people’s lives harder, even if we do it all the time. Still, don’t get your hopes up too much. Even if she walks on this, the improper treatment of a corpse charges, just having those being made will be enough to gum up the system. No one wants a kid being sent back to a necrophile, do they?”

  Liam didn't know that word at all. Not even enough to guess at what it was supposed to mean. Instead of asking, he got up, going over to the table that held the salad free plates and his laptop at the far end and began to look for the information he needed.

  Brenner left the room, even if he was willing to carry on a conversation at the same time. It might be hard to hear him, over the constant tapping noises, of cours
e. That kind of thing was an issue in his life. Instead of doing that, she moved upstairs, only coming down about three hours later, when a pounding came on the front door. Liam stood up, understanding that it was Oaks, the being who wasn’t a troll.

  That was due to how high up the sound came from, being near the top of the door frame, compared to what other people did. He waited for Brenner to go and get it however, since that seemed to be the general rule. It was her home, so she was the one to address people at the door.

  When it was open the rather ripe, very tan man, who had sharp, very heavy features, cleared his throat. That or growled in upset. It was difficult to tell which was the case, though Brenner took a step back, almost instantly, to allow him inside.

  “Agent Brenner. I came to see what you’ve found out about the police I need to end.” The words were articulate and his clothing, while very dirty and highly scented, certainly weren’t a simple animal skin tied around his waist.

  The FBI agent shrugged.

  “I made some calls. Nothing was reported about it at all. I talked to the captain there and he agreed to put the word out not to hassle you or anyone else trying to live in the park there, under the bridge. You should be able to go back now, if you want.” There was no sense that the man was being ordered out of the woods.

  Though it was clear that Brenner was trying to breathe as little as possible.

  Liam thought about that for a moment and then smiled at the very large, rather smooth moving, being.

  “Would you like to use the shower and clean up? Since you’re faking being what you claim, I mean. I don’t know how to get your clothing washed. I’ve never done that kind of thing or even researched it.”

  There was a sharp look, from Brenner, that seemed half-panicked. It was directed at Liam and held there until the giant person spoke. The words were, interestingly enough filled with humor.

  “Ah, you worked out that my troll act is just that? An act. Well, good enough then. I’d love to get cleaned up. Do you have machines for washing, Agent Brenner? Something I could wrap up in while that was happening, as well? A blanket would do.”

  There was a furrowed brow from the government agent, then a nod.

  “Sure. We can talk about what’s going on here, after that, if you’d like? I… Really thought you were a troll or at least a half-troll. That happens. After you get cleaned up. I’ll show you to the bathroom and you can leave your clothing outside the door while you do that. Let me get you some extra towels and… A sheet or something.” She left to do that, the giant creature simply standing until the woman came back and lead him away, up the stairs, coming back with a bundle of clothing that seemed to carry enough odor with them to be used as a defensive weapon.

  She moved directly to a small room on the far side of the stairs, to the right. Liam followed, since washing clothing was a new event to him. A thing to be learned, since he wore such things, daily, himself. Mary had always cleaned them for him, without allowing him to see how it was done. Not to prevent that knowledge being learned, most likely. Just because to her it wasn’t important for him at the moment.

  Brenner tossed the reeking wads of cloth into the top of one of the machines there, added liquid soap from a large bottle and then tapped a single button.

  “It isn’t hard to use machines for this type of thing. This is a very small load. If you had light colored things, like most of what you wear, you’ll want to wash them with other light-colored things. Whites, lights and then colors. Some things need to be hand washed. Technically his jacket is like that, but the truth is that I doubt I can damage it with washing at this stage of things.” She glanced at Liam then and shook her head. “That was dangerous, calling him on that so suddenly. He could have taken offense and he’s huge. I’m not certain we could take him in a fight, if it came up.”

  Liam hadn’t even considered that anyone would become violent over mere words. Especially ones that were, of course, correct. Instead of trying to act as if he understood everything in the world, which would be a lie to lay claim to, he simply nodded.

  “I’ll be more careful in the future.” If he could figure out when to do that sort of thing, of course.

  It was going to be easier with some people than with others, he decided. For instance, he could simply go and read all the werewolf books that night and work out what he was supposed to do not to offend them at the meeting the next day.

  It was always going to be harder for him if there was simply no way to know who he was dealing with. Given that Brenner hadn’t known either he had to think it was just a constant danger in life. You would, at times, have to handle things you weren’t really ready for, no matter how much you learned beforehand. It probably got better for those who were very old and had a lot of life experience, he had to figure.

  At least he hoped that was the case. When the clothing was well and truly being cleaned, Tiff walked them back to the kitchen, where she washed her hands and arms. Trying to make certain that no scent remained on them. Then, heading into the living room, she opened all the windows, like she’d done the night before.

  For his portion of things, instead of following her around, since that seemed a waste of time and energy, he went to the secret book cupboard and removed all of the titles that seemed to be about werewolves. That wasn’t a lot, once he held them in his hands. An additional four works. One a hand-written notebook, the others fiction titles that, it seemed, were fairly accurate.

  He settled at the table, his laptop at hand, and started to read the notebook, hoping it would be a more personal account of what being a wolf-man entailed. It was actually a bit spare that way, since the man who’d written it, Charles, was far more concerned about the rest of his life, most of the time. Being a werewolf only came up three nights a month for him, though there was discussion of how he was different than before he’d been infected.

  That was mainly in that his senses were sharper by far, and he was prone toward being both a bit more matter of fact about things and easy to anger. Rage was mentioned, several times. Near the end of the book it became more useful, when Charles went over having met several of his own kind and loosely forming a pack with them. There were rules for that kind of thing, which would play in to what they did the next day, if they wanted to be well thought of by the people they were going to meet.

  Words that needed to be spoken on meeting, gifts to be given and who to address first. Just as he finished it, nearly an hour later, Oaks walked down the stairs, a white sheet tied around his muscular middle. His black hair and brown eyes worked with the deep chestnut color of his skin. His face was ugly, being a bit less than symmetrical, his mouth filled with broad, though very white, teeth.

  When he got to the bottom of the stairs, he smiled. It wasn’t a good-looking thing. Rather, it was clear to Liam that he was being friendly and even kind, the pretense having slipped in some ineffable fashion as he descended that stairs.

  “So, I should explain myself to you, should I not, young Liam?”

  The words had Tiffany turning to look at him, away from the television which was on in the background.

  “Explain to Liam? You might also explain to me, while you’re at it. After all. I’m the one that was… Mislead for the last two years.”

  There was a bit of a glare in her direction, then a sigh.

  “Indeed, then Agent Brenner. You as well, though you are not the reason I was here last night. You see, Liam, in a very real way, I’m your father.”

  Liam looked at the man, working out what that would have to mean. Then he nodded.

  It made a certain amount of sense, after all.

  Chapter eleven

  Brenner looked skeptical and a bit like she was getting ready for some of that violence that the movie had shown them, a few hours before. Including the use of a firearm, making it the lethal variety. At least she moved her loose pink shirt out of the way and pulled a pistol that was like the ones that he’d learned about in researching the show. This on
e was, he thought, a nine-millimeter, though the make and model were beyond him still. He’d gained just enough information about how they worked and what they were called that he didn't have to think about them as being little tube weapons any longer.

  It was held by her side, instead of pointed at the large, strangely outfitted being in front of them.

  Her voice was a bit incredulous as well.

  “What do you mean, you’re Liam’s father. He doesn’t have one of those. He’s… Different.”

  Liam put things together, since there was only so many ways for him to have been created in the first place. His first question was different than probably would have been guessed at, if anyone were to try and presume such a thing about him and what he might possibly say at that exact moment in his life.

  “How did you get your skin brown? The eyes as well. Some kind of… Dye?” He wasn’t all that certain that colorations were called that, when it came to skin. It was the word for cloth and clothing however.

  Oaks shook his head then, ignoring the implied threat from Tiffany and her gun totally. He turned a bit, standing a good twelve feet from Liam still.

  “Not dye. I tried that, early on. Using plants and even berries, or mud, to alter my coloration. In the end it was a simpler thing than any of that. If you eat meat, a good amount of it, you will change color like I have. That isn’t wonderful, since it will make you feel horribly ill for nearly a day after you eat it. The proteins seep into the system and alters the tone of skin and eye. Always to brown, as far as I know. Different types of flesh cause slightly different skin colorations. Lamb is good for a lighter tan color, for instance. Chicken is the most interesting, that and fowl. For some reason it will make one of us so dark that we’re nearly a coal black.”