It flattened her like road kill.
After a long, uncomfortable silence where I could offer her no real comfort, she spoke, her eyes hooded and her face shuttered. "What did you feel? What’s coming?"
I hesitated slightly, not wanting to toss out anything that would further smash her in the face, but I just couldn't bring myself to sugarcoat it. "Danger," I said, the word dropping like an atom bomb that sucked all the oxygen from the room on detonation.
"For-" Alicia began, her voice cracking. She cleared her throat in annoyance at her fear, and I could see the muscles constrict painfully as she swallowed around the lump forming there. "For who?"
I'd had enough. I couldn't bear to bring her any more bad news, but my voice was on some kind of goddamn autopilot, belching menace like a used car salesman with Tourette Syndrome. "I don't know, Alicia,” I replied, exasperated by my impotence, “but it’s always about those we care for. If it doesn't directly pertain to me, then it's most certainly about someone important to me. You, me, Gisele." I shrugged with a nonchalance I certainly didn't feel. "I just don't know."
As she struggled with my words, I wondered if, since I was being so upfront and honest, I should tell her about my depressing and embarrassing encounter with Gisele. I was certain that it was somehow linked to the premonition, and I couldn't shake the feeling that the Gisele Incident was the final event necessary to make the coming danger unavoidable, but that could have been my guilt talking.
After a few moments of internal argument, I decided against it. What could it possibly accomplish other than to make her wary, and perhaps even afraid, of the one person she needed to trust implicitly, especially if the coming danger was after her? Of course, that was my noble reasoning; I really withheld the story because I knew that I would deserve her fear, and that would depress me even more.
Denying my own cowardice, I wrapped my arms around her and gently tried to pull her close. She was rigid for a few moments, resisting until she remembered her promise and resigned herself to honoring it. "Fuck it," she whispered, melting into me and pressing her cheek to mine. "I've lived enough of my life in fear." She wrapped her arms around me, and as we rocked gently back and forth, I was overwhelmingly thankful for my cowardice.
After several minutes spent basking in her warmth, so intense that I half-believed it could melt even my cold skin if I stayed there long enough, she lifted her cheek from mine and looked so deep into my eyes that I imagine she saw whatever might be left my soul, or the empty void where it used to be.
On a side note, I find it rather curious that, as a mortal, I never bothered to think about the state of my soul, especially after the death of my parents. Perhaps it was simply because I was young, the reality of death nothing but an abstract concept as foreign as Chinese writing, a phase I might have outgrown as the dirt nap came within striking distance. Or perhaps it was because, like so many mortals, I was lost, dwelling on the trivial things because I could control them and shoving the profound things aside to keep the mind-bending sense of helplessness at bay.
No mortal asks the question, "What does it all mean?" and actually wants to hear the answer.
For revenants, death is relegated to a cage; once a proud and ferocious lion stalking the lesser animals in its kingdom, the Blood puts it on display, allowing it to be looked upon with a detached curiosity rather than fear. It's not even close to being the main attraction in the zoo of immortality, and the irony of pondering my soul despite all that isn’t lost on me.
"Help me forget about this, just for a while," Alicia said, breaking me from my thoughts, a wry smile spreading on her lips. A voice inside me said that forgetting for any length of time was not a good idea, but I couldn’t deny her. I told the voice to shut up, gathering her up in my arms and carrying her to the bedroom that had gotten more use in the past two days than it had since I purchased the house.
◆◆◆
And there we were again, intertwined and sated, basking in the warm, comfortable embers of our lovemaking. There was more bad news to deliver, but I remained silent, torn between wanting only to stay and needing to leave. I listened to the quiet rhythm of her breathing, deep and peaceful, and immersed myself in her thoughts, content to ignore inevitability as long as possible. Eventually, the nagging voice of reason, sounding suspiciously like Gilbert Gottfried (or nails on a chalkboard, take your pick), couldn't be tuned out any longer.
"I have to leave soon," I said, steeling myself for her objection and for the lie I would be forced to tell. Instinctively, my arms tightened around her, as if bracing us both. She sighed, her arms tightening in response.
"I know," she replied. "You need to talk to Gisele.”
Her words rocked me like an exploding block of C-4, my head instantly throbbing with shockwaves. I gasped sharply, eyes wide, heart tumbling into instant panic mode. What the fuck was going on? I felt terribly exposed, as if Alicia had pried apart my skull and doled out my thoughts with an industrial-size ice cream scoop.
“What the fuck?” I choked out, engaged in a monstrous struggle to keep my voice even. I lost. Correction, I got trounced; my voice had more cracks in it than Humpty Dumpty after his famous fall.
Alicia fixed me with a hard stare, startled by my virulent reaction. She easily recognized the stark panic etched on my face and swirling in my eyes, and I could almost hear her mind churning in an attempt to explain my visceral reaction. After a few moments of charged silence, she stammered, her hand movements punctuating her fractured thoughts. “I... you... the... uhh...” She closed her eyes, anger at her inability to form a coherent sentence hardening her features. “The premonition!” she bit out finally.
Oh, Jesus. I half-coughed a couple times, trying to remove the foot lodged in my mouth. Relief, powerful and immediate, leaped into the fray like Rey Mysterio, but I didn’t have much time to enjoy the aid as Captain Sheepishness, Dr. Appalled and Maximum Disgust triple-teamed me. “Oh,” I said, amazed that I was even able to manage that, and then, it all somehow seemed funny to me. A low chuckle squeezed itself from my throat; Alicia didn’t get the joke.
I cleared my throat, rubbing my chin until my amusement faded. “I mean, no. Gisele wouldn’t care one way or another. She’s never experienced one, so she doesn’t believe in them, but there are others in the Ekhaya who do.”
“Oh,” she said, blinking several times. She recognized the truth in my words, but something didn’t sit right with her. My response did not fit proportionately with my reaction. “What the hell did you think I meant?” she asked gruffly, her eyes narrowing.
“Nothing.” I shrugged, faking nonchalance admirably, but she wasn’t buying. I didn’t blame her, so I leveled with her. “All right, something. We’ll talk about it later.” Her head canted to the side, lips pursing in disapproval. “Later, Alicia,” I said, my voice firmer.
“Is it that bad?”
“Not for you,” I answered quickly, hoping to give this line of questioning a wide berth. “Look, I’ve got to leave. What you’re asking for isn’t a short conversation, and it’s better to start later rather than leave it halfway through, okay?”
“Better for who?” she snapped petulantly, attempting to pull away from my grasp, but I held her fast.
“Better for me,” I answered truthfully, and I wasn’t the least bit apologetic for my selfishness. Having expected me to lie, she was taken aback by my forthright answer and stopped struggling.
"Oh.... Will you be gone long?" she asked wistfully, abruptly switching tacks and tones. Her head tucked in beneath my chin, her shins brushing my toes.
"I don't know."
"Hmm," she returned pensively, her arms loosening. Taking my cue, I rose from the bed and began dressing. I could feel her eyes on my body, and despite my mood, I found myself getting aroused again, which brought a slight smile to my face. Alicia laughed softly under her breath as she saw the evidence, and mumbled, "There's never enough time..."
I turned to her, a chuckle rumbling my c
hest. "When I get back, I promise we'll focus on your problems."
The fire in her eyes chased away some of the shadows advancing in my mind, easing my guilt for leaving and for the reason I had to. I moved to kiss her warm lips, a kiss she returned with a vigor, and then I moved toward the door, casting a glance back at her nude form, sprawled sexily across the mattress and covered enticingly here and there by the patterned satin sheet. She winked at me, and I returned it before turning away to look where I was going. Her words as I exited the bedroom caused my heart to stampede and very nearly brought me right back to the bedroom, the bed, and her.
"Come back warm."
◆◆◆
Night. The air was cold, but I barely noticed, my thoughts planted firmly on my plan of action once I arrived at the Ekhaya. I imagine that I knew then how National Transportation Safety Board investigators must feel on their way to a crash site, knowing full well that carnage was a foregone conclusion and wondering exactly how bad it would be at ground zero. How anyone could do a job like that, day after day, was beyond me.
During my trip I quickly took three adult mortals, breaking one of my rules by taking all of them from the same place because expediency outweighed caution. I could not afford any issues with the BloodHunger tonight.
7 damagE
Entering the Ekhaya, completely wrapped up in my volatile thoughts, I couldn’t be bothered with savoring its familiar and comforting smell. Hell, I didn’t even remember that it was something I liked to do, but as I walked through that first corridor, I did manage to notice the eerie stillness.
Odd.
After sunset, the Ekhaya is always highly active, revenants coming and going like so many worker and warrior bees; as you navigate corridor after corridor, it’s pretty much assured that you will run into more revenants than you can count on both hands, yet as I walked from chamber to silent, empty chamber without encountering anyone, it became more and more apparent that the Ekhaya was nearly empty. The resulting stillness was disconcerting as it draped over my senses like a wool blanket, rough and scratchy. I could sense other revenants within the Ekhaya, but their minds were tightly shuttered.
I wondered if all of these things were because of my return or the result of something else entirely, and I wasn’t sure which prospect was worse. With each step, the discoveries graduated from curious to alarming, and my mind began to whisper urgently that something was seriously wrong.
I paused at the entrance to the Ancients’ chamber, extending my mind into the inky blackness. Empty. The situation passed disturbing at twice the speed limit, screaming right into Real Fucking Bad. I lifted my mind, extending it over the entire Ekhaya, searching for the telltale sign of an Ancient, the soft, intense, metronomic beat of power that could make your heart fall into rhythm if you let it.
Nothing. No Ancients in the Ekhaya. My inner alarm graduated to Early Warning siren.
By unanimous agreement among them, one Ancient always remained in the Ekhaya. They maintain that it was to safeguard the Ekhaya, but I think it has more to do with their belief that we might somehow oust them in their absence. Knowing how seriously they took this agreement, it was painfully obvious that the Ancients had left just prior to my arrival. It also occurred to me that their absence signified awareness, at least in part, of what had occurred between Gisele and me, and that wasn’t paranoia or guilt talking. The most important question was, had Gisele told them her part in the encounter, or had I been portrayed as the sole villain?
On second thought, it didn’t matter. Either way, it wasn’t good for me.
I sighed heavily, my shoulders sagging under the burden. I was instantly fatigued, as if dread chiseled a jagged hole in my gut and drove all of my energy to freedom with a bullwhip and cattle prod. I would have dropped into the nearest chair if I hadn’t been so keenly aware that there were no answers to be found during a pity party for Jason in an empty chamber.
Moving doggedly toward the door, I sensed the presence of two revenants in the corridor beyond, but they fled like cockroaches in a floodlight before I managed to get one foot outside the chamber, lending even more credence to my suspicions and indicating that the entire Ekhaya might be privy to the Gisele Incident.
My head felt like a cinder block as I walked toward the portion of the Ekhaya dedicated to “sleeping” quarters. I stood at the fork in the corridor as if I had no idea which way to go. Though it’s as wide as a two-lane highway, the ceiling a good fifteen feet above my head, it felt like I was trapped in a musty, mud coffin, the sides of the corridor tucked in close around me. And getting closer.
The left corridor in front of me leads to what most Ekhaya members now call “the Upper West Side,” which contains the quarters of the eight eldest members of the Ekhaya (not counting the Ancients, of course) and four other privileged members, which includes me. The right-hand corridor leads to the Commons, which houses the remainder of the Ekhaya. The Commons initially held only ninety rooms, and it has been expanded considerably over the years. It also has a couple of nicknames, coined by revenants who think they are comedians, but on general principle, I never use them.
There was no movement in either corridor as far down as I could see, and my anxiety was fanning itself to spectacular heights. The air felt like water at fifty fathoms, and I waded slowly toward my chamber, half-envisioning an angry mob of revenants waiting patiently to jump out and ambush me as I passed whatever spot they chose to hide in, but I reached the door to my chamber without the slightest breach in the mind-wrenching stillness.
When I put my hand to the heavy, wooden door, the smooth oak highly polished and immaculate, I sensed Kane’s presence within my chamber. With all that had happened between us, his intrusion into my personal space spoke volumes. He was waiting for me, and the chances that he might be bearing good news lay somewhere between slim and none; at that point, I would have laid every single dime I had on “none.”
Steeling myself for the approaching shitstorm, I pushed the door open and strode into my chamber. “Hey, bro,” I said lightly, admirably faking a buoyancy that I couldn’t have felt even after inhaling an entire canister of helium. I removed my coat without slowing and tossed it onto my “junk” chair. Changing course, I headed toward a reclining chair on the right-hand side of the chamber. My steps were deliberate and consciously timed to allow me to get my thoughts into some semblance of order instead of the ass-all-over-the-place variety into which they currently fell.
Arriving at the chair, I plopped down like the bones in my legs had disappeared, careful not to look at Kane or acknowledge him further, and he knew better than to speak until I did so. Sinking into the plush cushions, I closed my eyes and ran my hands over my face and smooth head, rubbing the back of my neck for several seconds before dropping them to the arms. I shifted to get comfortable, couldn’t, and settled for leaning my head against the high back and propping my feet on the edge of a coffee table that divided the sitting area. Crossing one ankle over the other and folding my arms akimbo, I opened my eyes and motioned for Kane to cross over to this side of the chamber.
He stood economically, walking stiffly toward the area where I sat. He was openly conflicted, eyes alternating between silent apology for the intrusion and conviction that it was the right thing to do. He sat on the love seat opposite me, back straight and buttocks perched on the edge of the cushion as if he wanted to be ready to leap free at any moment should the love seat decide to swallow him. His hands twisted nervously in his lap, giving me a clue of his level of agitation. As a mortal, Kane had not possessed any nervous gestures, accepting everything with a calm equanimity that was both impressive and comforting, confident in his strength and ability to overcome any situation.
How quickly things change.
We sat in silence, eyes locked over the table that had become a referee of sorts, or perhaps a physical reminder of the canyon separating us. I smiled gently to show that I wasn’t angered by his intrusion - in fact, I was supremely grateful for it -
and then raised my eyebrows in a gesture for him to begin.
“It’s good you’re here,” he said after a while, shifting uncomfortably. Somehow I got the feeling that, while he meant it, he was also wondering if the opposite might be true.
“Kane, relax. Whatever you’ve got to say is obviously difficult, and it’ll be a fuckload easier on both of us if you chill out. I’m pretty sure I know what you’re going to say, but no matter what it is, don’t sweat it. I’m not going to kill the messenger, okay?”
Kane relaxed visibly, relief flooding his face as he scooted backward on the love seat until his back rested against the cushion. “When did you get so diplomatic?” he asked, no trace of judgment in his voice, merely curiosity. I laughed softly. The clarity imparted by recent events helped me to distance myself from the animosity between us, and I began to realize how horribly I’d treated him since his Conversion. It also became clear to me that I might have finally arrived at a place where we could begin to heal and possibly even attempt to bridge the chasm created when I Converted him.
“Some lessons take time, bro,” I replied softly, raising the white flag. It didn’t feel like surrender, so it wasn’t as difficult as I thought it would be.
Kane blinked at me as if to assure himself that this was really happening. “I’d about given up hope,” he murmured with a slight grin.
“My head is thick, but it’s not impenetrable,” I offered, an answering smile coming. A bit of my burden cracked like a mighty ice floe and began to slide off my shoulders.
“Sometimes I wonder,” Kane shot back, laughter in his voice, and something in his tone caused me to take my feet off the table and stand up. He stood as well, and we met in the middle, the firm, warm embrace of brothers. “I forgive you,” he whispered softly, and I smiled, my hand squeezing the back of his neck. I can’t describe how good it felt to have him back. We separated before the embrace turned awkward and retreated to both our thoughts and our former positions.
Corrupting Alicia Page 21
