His Caress of Shadows (The Kaldr Chronicles Book 4)

by Kody Boye

  “Few do,” she said, standing. She rounded the table and came face-to-face with me. “Agent number one-three-six told us that you wish to seek employment within the Agency. Is this true?”

  “It’s true,” I replied, nodding. “I want to deal with the central Texas Sanguine problem.”

  “Problem?” a man near the far end of the right asked.

  “What problem would that be?” a woman at the far end of the left added.

  “They killed my partner in cold blood.”

  “After you sought to eliminate a flock which had no known ties to you,” Amelia Vanderoof replied. “I read Scarlet’s report. It was meticulous in its detail and determined that you sought them out based on a vision given to you by the Svell Kelda.”

  “I never said,” I started, then stopped—realizing, at that moment, that I wouldn’t have had to have said anything for Scarlet to have known about my vision. Guy could’ve told her just as easily.

  Amelia Vanderoof stared me straight in the eyes and offered a look I felt was demeaning all the same. “You are reckless, Jason DePella. Your actions contributed to the death of the Kaldr people’s prince. Why do you believe we would find you fit to work within the Agency, let alone as an Agent meant to report to us and other Hunters?”

  “Because what they did to the Hill Country Howlers wasn’t right,” I replied. “Because they attacked us in broad daylight. Because they revealed the Supernatural underbelly to the entire world.”

  “We are taking measures to ensure that they are dealt with.”

  “What measures would that be?” I asked. “Sitting here in the dark and convening with your fellow—what? Wipers?”

  Amelia’s eyes narrowed. “You would do best to silence yourself, Mr. DePella, lest you anger the Agency even further.”

  “I need to do something,” I said. “They killed Guy—”

  “Because of your foolish actions.”

  “—and they’re targeting civilians.”

  “Because you uprooted a treaty.”

  “You honestly can’t have expected me to continue feeding innocent people to them? Can you?”

  The Archivist said nothing.

  Near the point of frustration, I balled my hand into a fist, but grimaced as my knuckles popped and caused everyone in the room to turn their heads and look at me.

  Naked, now, more than I had ever been in my life, I swallowed the lump in my throat before saying, “Make me a deal.”

  “What kind of deal?” Amelia asked.

  “Give me the name of the vampire who leads the Central Texas flock—the one who is inexplicably tied to the whole thing.”

  “And why would we do that?” the Archivist asked.

  “Because,” I replied. “I need to kill him.”

  “Why? Because they killed your partner?” Amelia shook her head. “You should be facing treason charges for what you did, Jason, but we at the Executive Board have let you go freely due to your naivety and because you were drawn into this under circumstances that you could not control. I will not give you the name of the Sanguine who helms the Texas flock, nor will I offer you any information as to their whereabouts.” She turned. “You may go now.”

  “But,” I started. “But—”

  The woman made her way around the table and seated herself in her place at the middle. “Go, Jason, before we decide to rescind our offer of immunity.”

  I stormed out of the room—past the automaton who stood by the doorway and around the corner toward the elevator.

  Once inside, I slammed my fist on the button that led to the refugee floor and waited until the doors closed before letting loose a string of tears.

  I couldn’t believe it—absolutely could not fucking believe it.

  They were going to deny me not only my revenge, but the opportunity to do good in the world.

  As the elevator lowered, I felt as though my entire world were crashing down along with it.

  Guy was dead.

  The Sanguine ran free.

  I was left to wander alone.

  Even Aerick’s presence wouldn’t heal these wounds.

  I closed my eyes and let my tears continue to fall.

  There was nothing I could do but move forward.

  9

  I didn’t speak to Aerick when I returned. Rather, I began to make preparations for our return trip back to Austin—first by calling down to the front desk to arrange for transport to the bus station, then by pacing about the room while waiting for someone to arrive. Aerick, in response to this, merely stared, and though he did not speak—likely out of fear that I would somehow retaliate against him—I could tell from his questioning gaze that he was wondering what was wrong.

  “So,” he said, after several long moments of watching me pace up and down the short hallway from the bed to the door. “We’re going back to Austin.”

  “Yeah,” I said.

  “And you spoke with the Executive Board of Directors.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Who said?”

  “That I should get over it because what happened was my fault.”

  “Your fault?” Aerick asked. “What are you talking about?”

  I explained to him what it was the Executive Board had said—about how there had supposedly been no ties to link the Sanguine we’d attacked to the ones who’d attacked us and how, because of my actions, Guy had died. I went on to state that they refused to accept me as an Agent—and how, because of that, there was no point in staying at the Agency any longer.

  By the time I finished, I was emotionally exhausted and near tears.

  “Jason,” Aerick said.

  I fell into his arms at that moment, no longer caring if he saw me as weak or if I appeared to be anything other than devastated. I cried—hard—and bowed my face into his neck in an effort to console myself, but found that nothing could stem the flow of tears.

  “I don’t know what to do,” I replied. “Part of me just wants to give in and give up, while another wants to move on with you.”

  “We have to move on eventually,” he said. “But what they told you, Jason—it isn’t true. It isn’t your fault that Guy is dead. It’s a bunch of dirty-rotten skull-fucking Sanguine’s.”

  “I know, I know.” I wiped the tears from my eyes and tried my hardest not to cave to defeat, but knew it was coming anyway. For that reason, I sighed, straightened my posture, then pulled away from Aerick to look into his eyes. “Come on,” I said. “They’re going to be knocking on our door here any minute now. Then we’ll be on a Greyhound and back in Austin in no time.”

  “Are you ready to go back?” Aerick asked.

  “No,” I replied, “but there’s really nothing we can do about it, now is there?”

  Aerick shook his head.

  No.

  There was nothing we could do to change what had already happened.

  All we could do was look to the future.

  10

  We arrived back at the house in Austin late that evening. With one of us gone and only the two of us remaining, we entered the small home that was besieged by darkness and began our evening routine—I with drinking water to quench the day’s thirst, Aerick with making a sandwich to compensate for the dinner we had not eaten. Throughout, I found myself dwelling on the soon-to-be future—and how, within less than two weeks, I would be resuming life as normal, or at least as normal as it could be.

  “Hey,” Aerick said, wiping crumbs and mayonnaise off his lips before sliding his plate into the sink. “You ready for bed?”

  I nodded and followed as he made his way up the stairs, pausing only briefly to look behind the shoulder and at the sectional. I expected to see Guy there—lounging shirtless like he had some nights while winding down for the evening. When I didn’t see him there, however, a pang of guilt struck my chest and caused me to reconsider everything that I had thought of up until that moment.

  Had Amelia Vanderoof been right? Was it my fault that he was dead? And if so, could I
have prevented it?

  Of course you could have, my consciousness was quick to interject. You could’ve easily prevented it.

  I struggled to move my feet at that moment—to bring momentum to legs which had since become frozen to the stairway—as I looked down at the couch, as I looked upon Guy’s absence, as I realized what all I’d done. Guilt began to fester at my insides like parasitic worms bent on devouring me from top to bottom, and while I tried everything within my power to ignore the feelings battling my conscience, I couldn’t.

  “Jason?” Aerick asked.

  “Yeah,” I said, suddenly finding the strength in my legs to move. “Sorry. I was just thinking.”

  “About?”

  “Nothing.”

  Aerick didn’t say anything. Rather, he reached down and tightened his hold on my hand before gently tugging me up the stairs and into the bedroom at the end of the hall.

  Once nestled in bed, I struggled to sleep, though Aerick fell into slumber nearly instantly. Images of Guy’s death and the events that had precipitated it bombarded my consciousness and caused me to tremble beneath the sheets.

  The Sanguine—

  The blood—

  My crown of ice.

  Just what had happened when my grief had overwhelmed me—when, in but a moment, I’d taken on a sort of power I could have never imagined? Had I become something more than Kaldr—something that could only be recounted within the tales of old—or had I simply been so devastated by seeing one of my partners die that I’d been overcome with rage from the ages?

  Without the ability to know, and with little to no counsel to go by, I could only dwell on the matters at hand—and hope, to any unfortunate God that was listening, that my prayers for understanding would eventually be answered.

  Eventually, I fell into a deep sleep.

  Only nightmares of that fateful night haunted me.

  11

  The week passed, the suffering subsisted, the mourning period continued on as though it would never end. Trapped within the cycle of grief, it was nearly impossible for me to think about anything other than what had happened even on the day I rose at six AM to get ready to teach my first day at Falls Burrow High. Dressed, finely, in jeans and a button-up shirt, I stared at my reflection in the mirror and ran a hand through my hair as I struggled to find solace in the fact that I would at least be doing something beneficial with my time.

  “Hey,” Aerick said from the bed.

  “Hey,” I replied, looking at his reflection in the mirror.

  “You look good.”

  “Thanks.”

  The younger man rose and came up behind me to wrap his arms around my midsection and to press up against my back. His lips at the nape of my neck, his hands at my abdomen, he sighed and allowed the breath to pool over the fine hairs at the bottom of my skull before tightening his grip on me. “Everything’s going to be ok,” he said.

  “I know,” I replied.

  “Do you really? Or are you just saying that?”

  I didn’t reply. Rather, I reached down to set a hand over his and found our fingers locking together almost instantly, as if it was meant to occur. We were polar opposites—two dynamics meant to be drawn together—though whether or not it was magnetism or something stronger I didn’t know. Instead of dwelling on it, though, I closed my eyes and exhaled a breath I’d been holding before breaking free of his embrace.

  “I need to get going here soon,” I said. “Hell—my classroom isn’t even in the state it should be.”

  “Your classroom will be fine, Jason. The kids are there to learn, not to see some flashy show.”

  “I know. It’s just—”

  “What?”

  “I wanted more time to prepare,” I replied. “For things to be normal. For things to settle down.”

  “The Sanguine ruined any chance of normalcy we had, babe.”

  “I know, but, still…” I trailed off then as I turned my eyes toward the bedside clock. Deathly near seven o’clock, it would only be a matter of time before I would have to be at the school in preparation for those students who would be arriving for the day. “I gotta go.”

  “Everything will be fine, Jason. Don’t worry.”

  I tried not to, even as I exited the room and made my way down the stairs, as I walked the brief way through the living room and then the kitchen and toward the back door—where, from the key rack, I drew the keys to Guy’s Lexus into my hands. The mere act of touching something that had belonged to him was almost enough to make me tremble, but I knew I had to be strong.

  No.

  I couldn’t allow lesser inhibitions, or even greater ones such as grief, to control me during a time in which I needed to be powerful. To tame the beast, as worn down and shackled in chains as it was, happened to be the most important thing in my life right now, and there was nothing I could do but push forward and hope to persevere.

  “Goodbye,” Aerick said from the stairwell.

  “Not goodbye,” I replied. “It’s, ‘See ya later.’”

  “Alligator,” he smiled.

  I smiled back.

  At least I had him.

  He could make everything better.

  12

  East Twelfth Street was covered in a dense layer of fog. With visibility nearly impossible at this hour of the morning and the sun shrouded behind a haze of white, little could be seen except an ever-expanding mass of gray. The fog lights on Guy’s car did little to penetrate through the miasma before me, and though desperate to make sense of the surroundings, they did little but inspire nerves within my heart.

  “Everything’s fine,” I mumbled to myself as the GPS continued to read off directions. “You’re just being paranoid.”

  Austin could get like this in the fall. I knew this to be a fact, and accepted it without issue. However—I couldn’t help but feel somewhat jilted over the fact that my first day on the job had to be precipitated with a massive cloud of fog. It was almost as if someone—or, rather, something—was attempting to send me a message.

  But what?

  I had little time to consider that as a figure appeared in the road in front of me.

  I slammed on my brakes.

  The vehicle hydroplaned.

  I skidded, abruptly, for several feet before the car spun about.

  The figure—whose silhouette could now clearly be seen on the passenger’s side window—began to approach.

  “No no no no,” I said, desperate to right the car and drive around whomever—or, as I continued to think whatever—happened to be just outside the vehicle.

  My mind raced, my heart pounded, sweat beaded along my forehead.

  I had just backed the vehicle up and was about to go around the figure when a pair of blue lights lit up around what I could only assume were its eyes.

  Jason, that familiar voice said.

  “Kuh… Kelda?” I asked.

  The honeycomb formations along her skull echoed in a blue aurora as the mist parted around her, revealing her earthbound but angelic figure. Snow drifted from the gentle folds of her crystalline dress, her body suspended mere inches above the ground, and her eyes continued to glow as the mist began to revolve around her person—first hiding, then revealing her in quick succession.

  “What… do you want with me?” I asked.

  It is time for you to face your destiny, the Kelda said.

  “What destiny?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”

  So it will be foretold that the first son will mate with warm flesh, and through this harmony create a new beginning.

  “What new buh-beginning?” I stammered. “Kuh-Kelda—I… I can’t do this anymore. You have to let me go.”

  It is not I that binds you, Jason DePella, but fate.

  Fate?

  What good had fate ever done for me?

  I was half-tempted to drive around her, but knew that doing so would only result in her pursuit. How she’d even managed to get here—or where she’d happened to come
from—I didn’t know, but at that moment, I could care less. She was here—now, in the present—and facing me head-on with something I couldn’t even begin to anticipate.

  The ice developing along my windows closed me in on both sides and spiraled along the forward-facing window until only a small sliver could be seen of the Kelda.

  You are the new prince, the Kelda said, the new jǫfurr. You cannot escape destiny. You must face it head-on.

  The Kelda rose in the air, remained suspended just feet above the Lexus for several long moments, then disappeared in a flash of light.

  I could do little more than stare.

  So… it wasn’t over—my role in the grand scheme of things.

  If what she’d said was correct—and, I felt, I had no reason to doubt her—I was meant to do what I’d previously thought impossible.

  I was meant to take Guy’s place.

  As I put the car back into drive and made my way down the road, I couldn’t help but wonder:

  What would happen next?

  PART 7

  1

  Without Elliot Winters or Amadeo Castellano’s phone numbers, I had no way of contacting either of them. For that reason, I decided to proceed throughout my day as I’d planned and try not to worry about what had just occurred—first by driving the short distance from the East 12th Street road to the local high school, then by parking Guy’s car in the parking garage before entering the illustrious building that held so many bad memories.

  By the time I entered my classroom, it was already after eight, and already the stares that came from the students were haunting.

  “Pardon me,” I said after a moment’s hesitation, reaching up to loosen the tie affixed to my neck as I looked upon each and every one of them. “I was running late.”

  No response came. Instead, the students merely continued to stare—either entranced by my sudden appearance or scared out of their mind over the Supernatural that was now in their midst.

  Rather than say anything further, I closed the door behind me and made my way to the whiteboard, where I wrote my name in neat block lettering before turning and saying, “Hello class.”