I breathe heavily, trying to purify my lungs from the scent of her sweet rosemary breath. It isn’t working.
“A witch who loves like Isabella and is rejected by the object of her affection will never be quite the same again,” She says sadly, her back to me. “She does not see it coming, but we do. You will destroy her, Daniel.” She turns around, and she looks so sad and resigned to this terrible fate that I finally find the strength to speak.
“What can I do?” I ask, my voice trembling against my will. “Tell me what I can do.”
She smiles the tiniest smile of all. Her eyes are filled with tears, some already rolling down her cheek. “There is nothing you can do, is there?”
She walks away, but I stop her, grabbing her delicate arm. Her skin is soft and silky, very much like Isabella’s, but her arm is much thinner. “We are just fearful for our sister. We both love her so much.” She gives me a small, sad smile and then gently releases herself from my grasp.
A gentle breeze passes over the forest, and, in a moment, she is gone. I stand there, feeling as guilty as if I had just taken a life. I look up at the distant moon, almost full. Then I flee the place, not daring to look above again.
-*-
I take my time walking back to my apartment. When I finally reach it, I sit down outside and lean against the door, feeling like I’ve been hit by a bus.
I hate myself.
I said I loved Isabella just to get her to sleep with me. What kind of person does that?
I can’t leave her. Not now and not ever. It just wouldn’t be right. It doesn’t matter that I don’t love her like I love Kismet. I would never love another person like I love Kismet. She is with me all the time in the back of my mind, throughout the long waking hours of day. She is with me in my dreams and in the darkness of night.
She is irreplaceable.
But I could learn to love Isabella in another way. I could learn to love her with the remaining pieces of my heart that weren’t completely shattered the day Kismet left my life.
I don’t know how much time passes, but morning finally comes. I stare at the sunrise and its beautiful colors of red and orange and pink and yellow, mixed with the blue and white of the clouds. I sigh, standing up and walking into my apartment to get ready for work.
I’d skipped my job yesterday when I went recruiting, and now I would have to come up with some lame excuse. Maybe I should just say I had some highly infectious flesh-eating disease and had to be held in quarantine, I think sullenly.
I shower and dress and walk to work before the store is even opened, briefly explaining to my boss that I had family issues and couldn’t work yesterday. He seems upset but doesn’t press for more information, only saying that he would’ve excused me had I just called beforehand.
I stop listening before he finishes.
The day goes by slowly and without much eventfulness. I am distracted and pensive half the time, and depressed and morose the other half. My boss eyes me curiously the whole day, scolding me a few times for driving away customers with my lack of attention, but I don’t care.
Finally, the clock strikes five, and I leave the shop.
I am looking forward to training with the kids at six. One thing I’ve learned about myself is that I’m always able to forget my problems—at least temporarily—whenever I have something to do. And did I ever need to lose myself in the pain and sweat and numbness of battle.
The Tribe
Shane is waiting for me outside my apartment when I arrive. Piper is with him, practically jumping up and down with eagerness.
“Hey,” I say, raising an eyebrow.
“Hey!” Piper chirrups. I notice she’s not wearing any eyeliner today either.
“So, what are you doing here so early, Piper?” I ask casually as I fumble for the apartment keys in my pocket. I open the door and walk in, and Shane and Piper follow.
“I want to talk to both of you about something.” She unloads her backpack on top of my mattress. A bunch of old books come tumbling out, clouds of dust swelling up, some of it getting in my throat.
“What’s this?” I say, coughing up dust.
“I was telling Shane a little about it before you came. I’ve done some research, and I’m completely fascinated by what Shane has told me about the witches that work for both our kind, because the magic they seem to use is really such a mixture between east and west…” And then she’s off on a rant about the possible origins of witches and their magic. It’s really interesting stuff, but I’m just too beat to pay her much attention.
“Give it a rest, Piper.” Shane says after fifteen minutes of non-stop blabber.
“Oh.” She looks hurt. “I’m sorry. I thought you guys would be interested in this.”
“I am,” I say, trying to sound convincing. Her face lights up.
“Excellent,” Shane says. “Then why don’t I just leave you two alone and get a bite to eat for us all? I’m starving.”
“Would you get some of those cuban sandwiches from the deli?” I say.
“You got it.” He gets up from the counter and walks out of the apartment, relief written all over his face.
“Not the most intellectual of men, is he?” Piper says morosely, looking down at her books.
I shrug my shoulders. “Shane’s a live-in-the-now type of dude, if you understand what I mean.”
She laughs.
“Why is that so funny?”
“I’d say you are both live-in-the-now types of dudes.” She says. “But you’re just the more curious of the two.”
“And how would you know that about me?”
“I’m observant, is all,” She says simply, without further explanation. “But however much of an intellectual Shane isn’t, he did tell me the whole story about Theodore and Viktor, the first Immortals.”
I smile at her. I knew she would be interested in that. “And what do you think?”
“Well, I think it’s weird, don’t you?”
“Definitely. I don’t believe it.”
“Me neither. I don’t believe the Immortals’ gift is genetic. I think that story is made up.”
I nod. “My thoughts exactly.”
“It just doesn’t seem plausible,” She continues. “There are hundreds of thousands of Immortals around the world, and to believe they all stem from the same genetic source, a man from the 1600s, is ridiculous. If that were the case, there would be fewer of us.”
“How do you know there are so many Immortals?” I say, surprised. Hundreds of thousands is a very large number. I don’t know how many Children of the Sun there are around the world, but I could guarantee it was less than that. Much less.
“Shane gave us all access to the Headquarter’s database. There’s a list there of all the Immortals’ names, their status in the organization, and their location.”
“There’s a database? As in…computers and technology?” Well, color me surprised. I think of Agartha and its kerosene lamps and can’t help but acknowledge that the Immortals are doing something right.
“There’s also some secret files…” She says, her eyes lighting up. “They’re very well guarded. Impossible to hack into.”
“You’re a hacker?”
“Yes,” She says, a little defensively. “Why do you ask?”
I say nothing for a moment. “You’re both a supernatural junkie and a hacker?”
“Girls have brains too, Daniel.” She says, but she’s laughing. “Anyway, I’m still trying to break into it. I’m hoping I’ll be able to crack it soon.”
I stare at her for a moment. Piper is quirky and socially awkward, but despite all this, I realize that the more I get to know her, the more I like her. “So what’s your theory about the Immortals?”
“I’m not sure,” She says, bringing a finger to her chin in thought. “I have to keep thinking about all of this, let the information sort of sink into my subconscious mind to see if I can make the connection that I feel is eluding me.”
�
�I remember all those years I pretended to believe in our history just because it was the only explanation I had ever been given. Just because it was better to have faith in something than admit nobody had a damn clue what we were, or where we came from.” I say after a moment. “And now that I am interested in finding out all this stuff, there’s so much going on that I can’t afford to give it much thought.”
“Yeah, I get it,” she says. “But it would be nice to do some real investigation once this whole mess with the fire eaters is settled.”
I don’t tell her that ‘this whole mess with the fire eaters’ could go on way longer than she thinks. I don’t tell her that my kind could possibly evolve in ways so dangerous that it would put the whole human world in peril, and that I was the living, breathing proof of that.
We are here right now; we have a tangible, real, concrete mission to focus on, and that is to stop the killings that are taking place in Billings before more innocent lives are taken.
The sound of the door opening snaps me from my thoughts. Shane walks in and tosses us our sandwiches, and I let out deep breath.
“You okay there, pal?” Piper asks me. “You got all broody and silent for a while.”
I laugh, embarrassed. “Sorry.”
“Dudes, check it.” Shane throws me the Montana newspaper called The Billings Gazette. It’s dated from today. I look at the front page, and my jaw drops. Next to me, I hear Morgana gasp, her hand clasping her mouth. There’s a picture of a disfigured body, intestines rolling out of his ripped out chest, with the caption: KILLINGS IN BILLINGS. PSYCOPATH? SERIAL KILLER? SATANIC RITUALISTS? Written at the top.
“How can they even publish that photo?” I throw the paper to the other side of the room and look down at my cuban, my appetite gone.
“I think they want to attract the attention of the Feds.” Shane says, taking a bite of his salami sandwhich.
“How can you even eat after seeing that?” I say.
“Do you think the Feds will really get involved in something like this?” Piper asks.
Shane ignores me, but pauses to consider Piper’s question. “They could. Either way, we have to move fast. This training can’t extend itself.”
“And then what?” Piper says.
“Then we fight the monsters that did this to the guy.”
Piper’s lips go pale for a second. “Better train hard, girl.” Shane says, winking at her.
Shane eats in silence as I try to get the image of the bloody, disfigured guy out of my head. A couple of minutes later, Brandon, Kyle, and Alesha knock at my door.
-*-
Once we start training, the fights are all I focus on. The kids are getting better—fast. I’m surprised at how good Brandon is after only a day of practice, and Piper’s defenses are close to impenetrable. I could barely get any punches in, and I even tried seriously a couple of times. Even Kyle and Alesha are faster than before.
“Yes, exactly, that’s what I’m talking about!” Shane yells, a mad, excited glitter in his eyes as he watches how Alesha gets out of a headlock Kyle has her in and elbows him square in the stomach. Kyle buckles over and falls to the floor on one knee, cursing out loud.
“Good hit.” He croaks, one side of his lip turning up in a smile. Alesha beams. I’ve been watching the two of them, the way Kyle praises her efforts and how she smiles back at him. I don’t know what Kyle told her last night or what’s going on between them, but if it keeps Alesha happy and quiet, then I’m all for it.
We take a break from fighting, and the kids sit on the floor, rubbing their arms or legs or stomach. I walk to the sink and gulp down inordinate amounts of water. When I’m done, I look around my apartment and notice that it’s a total wreck. There are dents and cracks in the walls, and the bulls-eye that Piper, Shane, and I used to practice our knife-throwing has all but disappeared.
“Why don’t we move our training grounds to a more appropriate place?” I say, “Someplace bigger and less breakable.”
“Sounds good.” Shane agrees. “We’ve trashed your place,” He says, looking around as if he’s only just noticed.
“What about the woods?” I propose. “We can practice in the middle of it by daylight and wherever we want in it by nighttime. There’s nobody around there.” Nobody except Rickshaw’s clan of witches…but I doubt they’ll bother us if they see we’re training. The prospect of seeing Isabella again is not as appetizing as it once was, but I take another look around my apartment and decide we don’t have a choice. “It’s either that or the park, and there’s too many people in the park.”
“Let’s go to the woods!” Piper quips, jumping up from the floor.
Shane stares at me for a second. He sighs, seeming to have finally reached a decision. “Okay, let’s do this.”
We finish drinking water and set the empty glasses in the sink. The kids scramble out and wait for us by Shane’s car, but he stays behind and tries to tidy up as best he can, picking up some books and arranging the dirty glasses in the sink so they won’t break.
I almost smile at his efforts. “Leave it be; I’ll clean up later.”
“Yeah, okay…sorry about your place, man.”
“No, don’t worry about it.” Shane has a cut lip and a black eye. “That looks like it hurts like hell,” I say, pointing at his lip.
“What, this?” He points at his whole face, and snickers. “Nah. I’m used to it.”
“You’re more bruised up than all of us together.”
“I know.” He says, serious this time. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”
Back at the tribe, Benedict was the one in charge of training me and Kismet until we were old enough to train by ourselves. He always had a cut lip, like Shane, or a bruise on his face or really sore muscles after training with us, and I never really appreciated how much effort he put into shaping us into the warriors we became.
Until now. I look at Shane, and I remember Benedict and all those hours of fighting and of weaponry training and of Kismet…and then I force myself to forget.
I have more important tasks at hand.
-*-
Shane parks his truck just outside the northern border of the woods. I lead them to the middle of the forest, where the trees are tall and the shadows deep, so we won’t risk unveiling ourselves to any human eyes.
“This place is creepy.” Alesha whispers behind me.
“Shhh… don’t talk.” Piper says. “I’m trying to listen to see if there’s anyone around.”
“Who’d be around?” Alesha asks, but Piper just shushes her again.
“Freak.” She whispers, but Piper ignores it.
We walk a little while longer until we’re deep enough in the forest, where no human would hike. Not a smart one, at least. There are all kinds of animals in these woods. You wouldn’t want to be caught off guard in the middle of the forest with a big predator lurking around—or worse, a witch.
“This is more than adequate training ground,” Shane says, ordering us to disperse.
Then, quite abruptly, Brandon speaks up. “I have already made my choice,” He says. “If my parents had been killed and I found out that it happened because someone had the chance to stop the murder and they didn’t, I would be furious. I would want to track down the fuckers responsible for it and kill them myself. Besides,” the side of his mouth crooks up in a smile, his brows knitting together, “this whole Immortal thing sounds like fun. I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”
How easily he caved into his own natural position.
“I’m in too, of course. For the whole ride. I have nothing to leave behind anyway,” Piper says calmly. I give her a questioning look, furrowing my brow, but she avoids my gaze.
Shane nods, and I notice the dark shadows under his eyes. “Now, let’s train.”
The Promise
“You guys want to see what a real fight is all about?” Shane yells. He’s panting and sweating, arms on his knees as he recovers from retching out of pure overexertion.
The cut in his lip is bleeding again, and the hem of his shirt is torn where Piper had pulled to get out of a body-lock. The kids are sprawled on the floor, except for Brandon, who is leaning against a tree and massaging his jaw. They’re wiping the sweat from their faces with their hands, the knuckles on some of their fingers bleeding and sore.
Oh, yeah. This is much more like it. Not even I am inmune from the adrenaline, and we’re getting good. It was perhaps this which made me accept the dangerous proposal.
“Hey!” Shane yells again, and this time he looks at me. The side of his mouth curls up in a devilish smile. There’s a glint in his eyes. “I said: do you guys want to see what a real fight is all about?”
I start to chuckle. “I think he’s challenging me to a fight.”
Piper peers up at us, and Brandon rolls his eyes. “So fight,” he says.
“Just to clarify, Shane. Is this going to be a for-real fight, or are we going to continue to playfully swat at each other like cubs?”
“You have a way with words, Daniel, you know?” He stands up straight and begins to walk to me. “In your next life you should be a poet.” My heart starts racing, and I can feel new drops of sweat forming at the back of my neck. I haven’t fought anyone seriously since that night six months ago when I had to push past Rafael to get out of Agartha. The itch has been there all along, that yearning for danger that I like to tell myself I don’t have.
Looks like Shane’s feeling it too.
“If you want a real fight, I’d be more than happy to oblige.”
“Cut sweet-talking me, fancy pants, and let’s get to the good stuff.” His arm suddenly snaps from his side, his fist aimed right to my left cheekbone. I duck and feel the underside of his arm scrape against my scalp as I raise my leg, putting the strength of my whole body into my hips and thighs and calves, and I push, kicking him in the stomach with the flat of my shoe.
The Sun Child (The Sun Child Saga Book 1) Page 19
