by Kody Boye
By the time evening came, I was exhausted.
Physically overwhelmed by the pain circulating through my upper body due to leaning over the binders and emotionally overwhelmed by everything that I had just read, I collapsed atop the bed and tried to determine what, if anything, I could do in order to establish a sense of normalcy within my life. I was already aware that my prior circumstances with Michael Kriemer had been erased—that my dissertation, as hard as I’d worked on it, was now with the proper authorities of the University of Austin, Texas—and I was more than coherent of the fact that Guy and I’s assumed involvement within the Lady Bird Lake Killings had been dealt with. That, in a way, put me back at step one. But now that I was a Kaldr—and publicly acknowledged as one at that—what did that mean for me and my future?
Would I ever teach, I wondered, or be gainfully employed? Or would I be forced to wander through life facing discrimination and unjust treatment?
Unable to know, and unable to contemplate the realities at hand, I nudged the last of the two dossiers shut with my bare toe and stared at the ceiling—wishing, at that moment, that Aerick and Guy were here in order to offer me even a smidgen of emotional support. They’d left to fetch us dinner, and though I’d longed to go, I knew, instinctively, that I wasn’t ready.
“You’re never going to be ready,” I whispered. “You might as well just throw yourself into the fire headfirst and let yourself burn.”
The door opened at that moment, ushering in both the men and the smell of Mexican cuisine. I sat up to acknowledge Guy and Aerick as they entered and sighed as I inhaled the scents of taco bowls stuffed to the brim.
“Take out?” I asked.
“I received access to my bank account early this evening,” Guy said. “And given that we’re legally acknowledged by the United States of America, I decided to treat us.”
“With take out?” I asked once more.
Guy nodded and set the plastic container, complete with its steamy covering, on the bed beside me. He handed me a pair of plastic utensils a short moment later.
“Are you sure that’s safe?” I asked.
“It’s fine,” Guy said. “Really, I—”
“We did get some weird looks,” Aerick offered, “but it wasn’t anything that we couldn’t shrug off.”
“I take it you walked?” I frowned.
Both men nodded.
“To answer your question,” Aerick said, popping the lid off his taco bowl and reaching in to break a section of tortilla shell away. “We walked down the street to the nearest taco place, got some odd looks from the staff, then ordered our food and walked away with it.”
“So you didn’t have any issues?”
“No,” Guy said. “We didn’t.”
Why he was acting so crass I couldn’t be sure, but regardless, I slid aside so Aerick could settle in beside me and began to eat, savoring the fine Mexican and the tastes it offered. Aerick moaned as he took his first few bites and then fell into silence when Guy offered him a look that could have frozen the blood in his veins if he’d truly wished it to.
“Something wrong?” I asked, directing my attention toward the older Kaldr in our midst.
“No,” Guy said.
“You’re acting like something is.”
“You want me to be honest?” he asked, tossing his plastic fork into his taco bowl with a resigned sigh.
“I’d prefer if you were,” I replied.
“I’m scared, Jason. Really fucking scared.”
“You’ve been acting funny,” Aerick offered. “I was wondering if something was up.”
“Never in my life have I had to worry about being targeted by bigots based solely on the fact that I was Kaldr,” Guy said. “I was immortal—invincible if you want me to be completely honest. I could bend a human to my will if there was ever an issue. But now?” He shook his head. “Now, with the new rules that are in place, it’ll be impossible for us as Kaldr to openly influence those who might endanger us without the possibility of being targeted by the justice system for Improper Use of Supernatural Abilities.”
“I-U-S-A,” Aerick replied.
“Exactly,” Guy said, centering his gaze on me. “Our eyes are our giveaway, Jason—our Achilles heel. All it’ll take is one look for anyone to know that we’re one-hundred-percent Supernatural.”
“What about contacts?” I offered. “We could order costume ones for when we’re out and about, or by ourselves.”
“They don’t work. I tried it a few years back when I first left the ranch. Our rings shine right through.”
“So say we get targeted. What’re they going to do? Bash us? Kill us? We already face that possibility because we’re gay. Who’s to say that people are going to be anything but scared of us?”
“Fear leads to anger,” Guy replied. “Anger to violence. It’s only a matter of time before some unfortunate Kaldr or Howler is killed because of discrimination.”
“We can’t live in fear though,” Aerick said. “We can’t go back to the Stone Age and act like there’s nothing different about us. We have lives to live, things to do, people to be.”
“Aerick’s right,” I said. “We can’t live in fear, Guy. We can’t. Otherwise… otherwise…”
Otherwise… what? I wondered. Otherwise we would… fade away? Otherwise we would… turn to ashes? What, I wondered, would happen if we were to retreat from society—to return to an age in which the Supernatural was gone and superstition were real? Would it really be so bad to move to the wilderness, live off the land, and continue our lives as if nothing else mattered? It was possible to survive without needing the support of anyone else, and though it would be incredibly difficult, it was still doable.
Sighing, I slid off the bed, fell to the floor, then set a hand on Guy’s knee. “Hey,” I said.
“Jason,” he replied.
“I’m scared too. And I’m sure Aerick is as well.”
“Shitless,” the Howler offered.
“But we’re a team, and we’re in this together. I’m not going to let anything happen to any of us, not if I can help it.”
Guy reached down and set his hand over mine.
I smiled.
He smiled back.
Aerick came to kneel beside me and reached out to set a hand over both of ours.
Together, we could overcome any obstacle.
I—and, I hoped, they—knew that.
7
A knock came at the door the following morning—when, at an hour during which we were still struggling to sleep, none of us were willing to rise.
“You get it,” Aerick said, reaching back and feebly smacking at Guy’s arm.
“No, you get it,” the Kaldr offered.
“I’m not—”
“I’ll do it,” I said, crawling out of the bed and grimacing as the cold from Guy and I’s combined persons assaulted me. I tied a robe off around my waist and walked toward the door. Given there was no peephole, I had no way to tell if it was an official summoning us at this hour of the morning or if it was simply a drunkard trying to find his or her room. Because of that, I was hesitant to answer; but when the knock came again, I knew I couldn’t refuse whomever—or, I should’ve thought, whatever—it was.
It took only a moment for me to unlock the door.
When I opened it, I came face-to-face with a man dressed entirely in black—and bearing, around his neck, one of the single golden bars that Scarlet had used to enter the Agency.
A Hunter?
I frowned.
What was a Hunter doing here?
“Jason DePella,” the man whom I could not entirely be sure was human said.
“Can I help you?” I asked with a frown.
“My name is Vincent Adkins. I’m here to formally discharge you, Aerick Harper and Guy Winters from the Agency’s protective custody.”
Already?
I was too shocked to speak, so rather than say anything, I stepped aside and said, “Come in.”
The man named Vincent Adkins entered and closed the door behind him with a casual malevolence I found utterly chilling considering that I had assumed we would be here for a much longer time. Dark eyes glimmering, thin lips pursed, he looked past me to the two men sleeping in the California king bed and nodded as Aerick and Guy sat up to examine the Hunter.
“We’re leaving?” Aerick asked with a yawn.
“You are,” Vincent Adkins replied. “But before you leave, there is a matter of your relocation.”
As Aerick and Guy crawled out of bed and began to dress themselves in morning casuals, I stared at the Hunter before me and tried to determine what, if any, motives he had. It seemed he was here simply to discharge us from the Agency, but he carried, beneath one arm, a satchel that appeared to be filled to the brim with uncounted objects. What he carried I couldn’t be sure, but when Guy and Aerick approached, the Hunter gestured them to sit in the chairs beside the door and nodded as he reached into his satchel.
“We’ve prepared for the three of you transportation to the greater Austin, Texas area,” the Hunter said, withdrawing from his satchel what appeared to be three Greyhound bus tickets and handing them to each of us for our approval. “You will leave the Dallas station at noon today and will arrive in Central Texas later tonight.”
“Austin?” Guy asked. “Why there?”
“There was vacant housing available to be filled,” Vincent Adkins replied. “We at the Agency believe the three of you are perfect candidates for our relocation program. As such, we are providing to you—free of charge, for the first six months—housing within the East Austin area.”
“There has to be a catch,” Aerick said.
“There is no catch, Mr. Harper. All we would require from you is to pay for the rent and utilities after the six months have expired should you continue to live within the home we have provided for you. The home is in the process of being furnished as we speak, and the first month of groceries are being provided to you as well.”
I couldn’t believe it. I just couldn’t. For the Agency to be so kind—especially to people like us—seemed highly unlikely, especially considering that they had dozens, if not hundreds of Supernatural citizens to relocate.
“What else do we need to know?” I asked.
“Your bank accounts have been restored. Your prior places of employment have been conditioned to accept your arrival. Any discrepancies in your pasts have been resolved.”
“So… we’re safe?”
“As safe as you can possibly be, Mr. DePella.”
I looked down at the bus ticket in my hand and tried to determine what this would cost us in the long run, but knowing I—and especially we—couldn’t refuse, I looked up, nodded, and said, “Thank you.”
“We are ready to provide transport to the Greyhound station whenever you are ready.”
“What’re we waiting for?” Aerick asked. “Let’s go.”
8
Guy, Aerick and I sat relatively close together on the Greyhound bus. Thigh touching against Guy’s, within arm’s reach of the Howler, I looked out at the rolling landscape of downtown Dallas and tried, with little success, to take my mind off of the incessant stares the three of us continued to receive just while we were seated.
“They’re staring,” Aerick offered from the seat in front of us, then shifted about until he could look Guy and I in the eyes.
“I noticed,” I mumbled.
It was downright impossible to ignore. From men, to women, to children who cowered in their seats—not a soul hadn’t stopped to look at the three of us as we’d boarded the bus. With our ringed irises, we were easy enough to spot, though whether they knew what we were capable of I couldn’t be sure. At least we weren’t monstrous like the Sanguine, or disfigured or even alien like some of the creatures I’d witnessed in the Agency for Supernatural Affiliations. Regardless, though, it didn’t help the stares, and as I slumped down in my seat, one half of the dossier in my arms, I sighed.
Guy, having grown tired of one man’s stares, sighed and turned his head away to look at me.
That’s when I heard it—faintly, just beneath the man’s breath.
“Freak.”
The word stung almost as much as the word fag would have in any other circumstance.
“Ignore him,” I mumbled.
Aerick, however, wasn’t going to have it. He stood and was just about to say something before I cleared my throat to draw his eyes toward me.
I shook my head.
He curled his lip.
I shook my head again and jutted my chin toward his seat.
Growling, the Howler—whose features had darkened substantially and whose stubble appeared ready to turn white at a moment’s notice—settled back down in his seat beside the elderly woman at his side and let out a long, drawn-out exhale.
“Ignore the naysayers, honey,” the woman beside Aerick said, lifting her head from her knitting to look at not only Aerick, but back at Guy and myself.
“Excuse me?” I frowned.
“There’s always going to be people who don’t like you for who you are. First it was the blacks. Then it was the gays, then the transgenders. Now it’s the Supernaturals.”
“You know what we are?” Guy asked.
The woman shrugged and looked back down at her knitting. “Hard not to notice a trio of good-looking men like yourselves, especially when their eyes are ringed with color. Quite pretty if you ask me.”
“Thank you,” I mumbled.
“They’re freaks,” the man who’d spoken before said, this time raising his voice enough to where those around him could hear. “They’d kill you before you had the chance to even think about it.”
“If I were worried about my safety,” the elderly woman replied, “I would’ve gotten off this bus and asked for my money back.” She stopped knitting and lifted her head to face the man she considered the naysayer. “If you have a problem, you can leave. And that goes for anyone else who doesn’t want to be amongst our fellow men.”
“They’re not men,” a woman replied. “They’re… something else.”
“Yeah!” someone cried. “They’re monsters!”
“Animals!”
“Freaks of nature!”
“Quiet!” the bus driver announced. “Any more ruckus and I’ll throw you off the bus.”
Whether he meant the three of us or the people loudly speaking their opinions I didn’t know, but rather than dwell on it, I leaned my forehead against the glass and closed my eyes.
When I opened them again, I saw that we were merging onto the highway—and heading toward what I instinctively knew what be the next extremely-complicated phase of our lives.
I looked up at the old woman.
She cast a glance at me.
She gave me a sad look, nod, then returned to her work.
I could only imagine what she’d seen throughout her lifetime. Then I realized, with utter humility, that with our arrival she’d seen it all.
With one last sigh, I leaned into Guy’s body and reached down to take hold of his hand.
His fingers laced in mine were the only thing keeping me stable.
9
Some four-and-a-half hours later, we disembarked from the Greyhound and began to make the long and grueling walk to East Austin. Unsure how we were going to be able to get to the house that we had been assigned in a leisurely manner let alone meet with the agent who was supposed to greet us, I struggled to keep my hopes high as we continued to walk the sidewalks and cross lonely, apathetic streets. At this time of the day—approximately four o’clock in the afternoon—traffic was only just beginning to start, and would soon progress into rush hour come time four-thirty rolled around.
At my left, Guy walked steadily, his hands slung into his pockets and his eyes set firmly ahead, while to my right Aerick lugged both dossiers so I wouldn’t have to. Both men appeared more than comfortable with their current arrangement, but me? I was terrified out of my mind that we w
ere about to get jumped, or shot at, or knifed in the back.
How could they have been so calm?
I had to keep telling myself that I couldn’t be afraid—that regardless of whatever the world around us thought, that we were still Supernatural. As a result, we could defend ourselves in ways innumerable to the human conscience. Why, we could incapacitate them without even raising a hand, such were our Kaldr powers. And Aerick? I knew he was stronger than he looked based solely on the fact that he had an incurable disease running through his body. The Howler would never let him succumb, not by a longshot.
“We’re getting closer,” Guy said, lifting his head from the map he was surveying and nodding at Aerick and I.
“Thank God,” Aerick replied. “We’ve been walking, what now? Three hours?”
“It hasn’t been three hours. It’s probably been an hour-and-a-half, if that.”
“Still. My feet are killing me.”
“I’ll work my Kaldr magic on you when we get back to the house,” Guy said.
“If we get back there,” I said.
Guy and Aerick paused midstride, then turned to look at me with wary eyes. “If?” Guy asked.
“I’m worried about meeting up with someone from the Agency before it gets dark,” I said, then frowned. “Why? Did you think I meant something else?”
“You’ve been acting funny since that incident on the bus,” Aerick offered. “Of course we thought you meant something else.”
“Honestly?” I asked. “Yeah. I’m nervous about traveling on foot, but only because we’re—”
“Different?”
I nodded.
Aerick reached out and bumped my shoulder with his own. “Come on, Jason. We’re Supernaturals. We can go anywhere we want, do anything we want—”
“Within reason,” Guy said.
“Anyway,” Aerick continued, “we don’t have anything to worry about. It’s not like someone’s going to come up and go, ‘Bang bang, motherfucker! Give me your money!’”
