I stopped in mid-bite and put the fork down, staring. “I bet you could tell me my name,” I baited him in vain. I waited, too, in vain, but I had to surrender. “It’s Airel. But you knew that, didn’t you?”
Kale spoke. “I need to tell you something so that we do not have another night like the one that put you in convalescence for a week.” He was looking directly at me. His gaze shifted to Michael, and he continued.
“You cannot escape, so don’t try. If you do try, I will lock you away like a dog. If you stay on the property, you will be free within its boundaries.” He took a sip from his glass of orange juice and then sighed. He acted as if he was being forced to do this. I wondered if he was like an employee for someone, a hit man for some multinational power-broker.
I couldn’t help but wonder how in the world I had ended up here. Kim would have said, “I told you so”; she would have reminded me that we should have gone to the cops about all of it. I was shocked at myself as I wondered if I was inside the machinery of one of those human trafficking organizations I had been hearing about.
I was so mad; I couldn’t believe we were all sitting at a table eating together like friends. But I couldn’t bring myself to hate Kale or even retain my anger. He acted natural and sure of himself, and that authority and confidence disarmed me. He didn’t even seem concerned that he could end up in prison for a very long time if he was caught kidnapping minors.
“I have eyes and ears everywhere. I’ll know of any plans you make before you have a chance to execute them. I do not want to hold you in a cage like animals. I would rather you were free.” He paused, indicating that he was switching gears. “You are to attend to your schooling so as not to fall behind in your studies.” Michael groaned, and I sighed aloud.
“This makes no sense,” I said. “You kidnap us, and then you act like we’re here on a field trip? Please. Now—why did you take us, and what do you want?”
“You will obey or suffer the consequences,” he said calmly. The calmness chilled me deeply, and I backed off, feeling with certainty that I was in over my head.
“Easy now, she didn’t mean anything by it.” Michael was trying to keep the peace. “She just wanted to know what you want—money?”
Kale looked at him with what can only be described as hatred.
Michael didn’t notice; he just kept on talking in even tones. “My dad doesn’t have much. I don’t think hers does, either.” Michael tensed, opening and closing his fists as if he was about to strike. This was like cats and dogs, seriously, and I almost felt like I needed to jump up and get between them.
Kale deflected him. “I do not need money. As you can see, I have money to spare. What I want,” he turned to me, “only Airel can give.”
CHAPTER XV
Boise, Idaho—Present Day
STAN WAS CHEERFULLY IGNORANT, standing over the demobilized police officer engaged in what was, for him, a shiny new hobby: abduction and torture. He held the badge up to the light that came from a single bulb in the tiny one-car garage.
“Lopez,” he read out. The instability in the housing market had done at least one thing for opportunists, and that was that there were plenty of empty, foreclosed homes all over the valley.
Stan fancied himself a man of deliberate action. He had considered the empty house for a week before deciding it would work well for his purposes tonight. Officer Lopez was bound with his own handcuffs, his torso and ankles duct-taped to a metal folding chair. Blood seeped from his broken nose onto his white uniform shirt, soaking in, making a beautiful inkblot image.
Stan thought it looked like a bat; maybe a dragon. This image filled him with a sense of power and fear, a buzz to which he had become addicted.
“Lopez, I am in need of information. I must warn you: if you lie, I will not have any use for you.” Stan chuckled and wiped tar-colored spittle from his mouth with the back of his hand. “I will ask once. Only once.” He opened a small folding knife with a serrated inward curving blade, bent down on one knee, and pulled off one of Lopez’s shoes. The officer tried to protest, fighting the restraints, but the rag stuffed in his mouth made it impossible to discern his words.
Stan took hold of his shoeless foot and held it tight. “Now, now, Lopez; are we not both professionals? Do you not trust me?” he mocked him. “This is for your own good, I promise you that—for you need to see and understand the seriousness of your situation. I need to make it known to you—clearly—that I mean what I say.”
Stan removed the sock from the officer’s foot. In a sawing motion that took several attempts to cut through the ligaments, he removed the little toe from the detective’s foot. Lopez wailed and thrashed, but the gag held, his body bound.
Stan stood up and looked around the empty garage in dull comprehension, his face flashing with alternating surprise and purpose. He fished in the pockets of his suit coat, which he had been wearing for a week now, and produced a cigar lighter. Smirking, he lit the torch-like device and held the flame to the freshly inflicted wound. It sizzled, the smell of burning flesh infiltrating the garage. The detective screamed in pain and Stan gorged himself on all of it, inhaling deeply.
“There, now. We can be friends again,” he chuckled. “At least now I know that when I ask my question, you may prove yourself to be of some use to me.” The Bloodstone swung freely from his neck, pulsing and humming, hovering slightly with each pulse. Stan was super-aware of its presence. All he wanted to do was caress it with lust and desire, but he controlled himself for now.
“I know who you are, Lopez. I know that you are the lead detective in the investigation into the disappearance of an insignificant girl named Airel … the girl who witnessed that murder …” He waved his hand dismissively. “I want to know who took her and whether or not she was alone. If you refuse to answer me, I will dispose of you—and your pretty wife, of course … and I will find someone who wants to live.” Stan looked at him with reddening eyes.
Time seemed so thin to Stan—he was looking straight at something only he could see, and for a time he was not himself. His own reality tended to come and go nowadays; it was something he had come to accept since the Bloodstone had come into his life. Stan looked straight ahead at nothing.
He ran his hand through his hair and glanced down at the cop. Stan’s eyes glowed red, and his face became radiant. In fact, his body was tenanted by the parasitical presence that made him what he was for now—the Seer. His eyes took on an intense satanic red glow, and his face became disturbingly beautiful.
He spoke. “Menial fool. I will remove your gag and wait for your answer. If you scream, you will die.” He yanked the rag from the detective’s mouth and stood before him, his palms facing upward. The pendant rose and hovered in the hollow of his hands. Fear stole into the cracks of the officer’s mind and began to break it apart piece by piece.
CHAPTER XVI
Somewhere in the Mountains of Idaho—Present Day
“I NEED YOU TO try something for me.” Kale lowered his voice, and as I placed the last bite of scrambled eggs in my mouth, I noticed that he had brought a book with him. It looked like it had a thousand pages. The edges of those pages had once been gilded, but after time and use, the gold had mostly rubbed off.
“Tell me what this is and where to turn.” He pointed, thumping his index finger on the black cover of the book, then sat back in his chair and folded his arms across his chest.
“I don’t understand—what is that and where to turn? That makes no sense.” Kale the killer was losing his marbles. I remembered my grandmother’s old family Bible. This book looked a lot like it, only this one looked ancient.
“What is this book?” he demanded in a harsh tone. Michael stiffened.
I wanted to shout back at him for making me play this stupid game. All this “you shall know in time” crap was getting on my nerves. “It’s a Bible,” I sighed, surrendering to his ridiculous game. I ducked my chin and hid behind my hair, thanking God I’d had the foresight to l
eave it down today.
In a softer voice, he said, “Good. Now where do I turn? Don’t think about it; just tell me right off the top of your head.”
I could see Michael was feeling the awkwardness as much as I. Reaching out, I touched his arm. He looked at me and managed a weak smile.
I turned back to the killer, annoyed. “What are you doing, playing Bible roulette?”
“Now. Do it now,” Kale commanded.
After I got over my initial shock, I sputtered out, “Fine. Six one—Genesis six, verse one.”
Kale’s face illuminated with satisfaction. “I was just thinking that. Very good.” He even smiled. He opened the Bible, placing it in front of me, and pointed to the passage. He cleared his throat, closed his eyes, and spoke.
“And it came to pass, when men began to multiply on the face of the earth, and daughters were born unto them, that the sons of God saw the daughters of men, that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose. There were giants in the earth in those days; and also after that, when the sons of God came into the daughters of men, and they bore children to them, the same became mighty men which were of old, men of renown.”
The way he spoke the text of the old Bible made me think he loved each word. I saw how gently he touched the pages, how sacred the act of closing the cover together was for him. He set the Bible down on the table and stared at me.
He seemed irritated with me, and I guessed what he might be thinking. I shook my head. “So what? You read some random passage that means . . . what?” I still didn’t like it. He sighed softly, but I could tell I was missing something important, that he was exercising self-control. My hand was still on Michael’s arm, and I was very aware of it. My heart was pounding; just the feel of his skin touching mine in that simple gesture made me warm all over, and I realized that most of me just wanted to go off somewhere with him so that we could be alone.
Kale’s voice, velvety, shook me from my reverie. “This story is the only one like it in the entire Bible. It talks about how the angels of God forsook their place in heaven when they saw the beauty of Eve’s daughters. They fell in love. They left paradise to marry and create new lives among mortal men—the sons of Adam. These angels intermarried with the race of men, and their wives produced children. These children were different: Immortals. As far as you would consider them, they had what might be called … superhuman powers.”
Overloaded with new information, the tumblers in the locks in my mind all fell into place and sprang open instantly. I struggled to hold on. The only thing that held me was fear. Inwardly, I had already admitted to myself that I had been convinced, that I was in the midst of a genuine epiphany … but the cost of outward admission to that fact was too great to bear, so I kept it hidden.
Then an even stranger thing happened: Kale chuckled. It was as if he had read my thoughts as all this had flooded in upon me, that he thought it was amusing. All I could do was sit there and worry about drooling out of my open mouth.
Now that Kale had my attention, he drove it home. “The half-angel children would grow up normal. Their super powers were never triggered unless they came into contact with what we call the Brotherhood. Don’t worry; we will get into that in detail some other time. The point is, if these hybrid children were never activated by the Brotherhood, they would simply live normal lives, growing old and dying, just like a normal man or woman. The verses you picked out for me tell about their origin. I hope you see what I’m driving at—or do I have to spell it out for you?”
My hands were cold. The pit of my stomach clenched tightly, feeling slightly like hunger pangs. My mind replayed for me the night I had cut myself, how I had healed without even a scar to show for it. I thought about the way my skin had become so milky, smoothed out, pure. I thought about my hair, how it was so perfect, so strong—that was decidedly not normal, not—human. And now, to complete the internal mutiny against my average teenage life, I heard fluttering. Pages of a book. Wings. She, in the back of my mind, stood up.
Everything I had ever known, wanted, dreamed, desired, and planned in my entire life was now crumbling before me, and I could not stop it. I was furious.
Kale sat silently, allowing me to ponder the information further. Even Michael seemed to be too shocked to say anything. I assumed he was putting it all together as well; he had seen enough to make him wonder what was wrong with me. But I couldn’t know what he was really thinking.
Like a shout in the darkness, I heard my name. “Airel.” It was Kale. The killer. The stalker. The kidnapper. He was inside my head. “Airel, listen to me. I am not your enemy. I am your friend.”
CHAPTER XVII
FIRST LOVE. FIRST KISS. First night spent away from home. Things that leave their mark on everyone. These were true enough for me, but there was also the time I almost drowned, the first time I rode a horse, and now there was the day I sat in front of my kidnapper and realized that everything in my once-happy life was all just an illusion. Congrats, girl, you’re a half-breed, an Immortal, the love child of angelic aliens and ancient hut-dwellers. Oh, really? Wow, sweet…
I didn’t remember standing up, or even the long walk down the twisting stone steps. All I could feel was the wet grass on my bare feet as I walked through the meadow.
I felt like I was in a fog, that what I had thought was real turned out to be just a curtain. Now the curtain had lifted, and what was lying in wait behind jumped out and ravaged my mind. I can’t really believe this lunatic murderer and kidnapper, can I? I had no way of knowing if what he had told me was true. But, wait… I shivered. His last words echoed through my brain threateningly.
I was beginning to understand the meaning of risk—because I was starting to doubt everything I thought I knew.
The end of our conversation played in the large space of my freshly expanded mind:
“How did you know that the story I wanted to read to you was in Genesis chapter six?” he’d said.
I stared at him in utter amazement. “It was a lucky guess,” I said flatly.
“Was it?” He raised one eyebrow, a small smile lifting the right side of his mouth. “I was thinking of the book and chapter in my mind. You read my thoughts, Airel. I suspected you might have that gift, among others …”
“Who are you?” I shouted at him, my voice cracking. It’s funny, but I didn’t let him answer me—or if he had, I couldn’t remember what it was. I had stormed off the porch, letting my feet carry me where they would.
I ended up sitting in the wet grass in the meadow, glances of which I had stolen so often from my room. I was a candle burnt from both ends, completely spent. My eyes filled with tears as I felt the dark woods surrounding me. Superhuman? But I was just an average girl … invisible.
But not now. And never again. Now that I had been jolted awake, all I wanted was to be able to go back to sleep. The real world was simply too terrible. I just wanted to go back to being invisible, or at least being able to believe I was. Now the things I wanted the most were out of reach. Permanently.
And they were foolish, too.
I became overwhelmed with one thought, and words failed to describe even near to what I felt, because it soaked into the marrow of my bones in that moment. What I felt, stronger than anything I had ever felt, what faded literally every other concern into the background, including my family, my future, and Michael, was that I had woken up today to find that I was indeed different. Superhuman. In the aftermath of this revelation, all I felt, though, was frail. My mind was firmly trapped in the difference between the two.
Shoulders shaking, shivering with chills, I sobbed and cried forever. I didn’t care what Michael or that horrible man thought. What did it matter, anyway? What did I have to look forward to? Days, months, years, decades, centuries, lifetimes of loneliness—if what he had implied about immortality was true—and knowing that I was not just different, but different in a way no one would ever understand.
Feeling like, at seventeen years o
f age, I had cried enough tears for many lifetimes already, the ripples in the little pond of my life began finally to subside. At least now I knew for certain. I didn’t know how long—how many years—it might take for me to come to grips with it. In the end, a weight had been lifted from my shoulders, though, and I needed that desperately. The Question had been replaced with Truth. A different kind of burden altogether.
I looked up at the house that was embedded in the mountainside. It was so beautiful. I could see the tall windows that looked out over the lush green valley, the patio where Kale and Michael still sat. I was glad they let me be alone; it would have been embarrassing to have cried like that in front of Michael.
But I wasn’t alone. She was there with me, and for once I felt her almost tangibly. I was glad that She seemed to show up when I most needed her. She helped me think of something I never would have come to on my own: “You cannot change this. You are who you are. Live. Live, Airel.”
She was right, of course. I couldn’t change who I was or what I was, as my stalker had informed me an eternity ago. I was here for a reason. Maybe Kale knew, or he could help me discover it. As I steeled myself to it, it began to occur to me that there had been times before when my answers had proved to be inadequate. I decided that I had more to lose in sticking it out by myself than I stood to gain by asking for help. It was time to find out why I was here, and I needed to cast aside everything that made me comfortable.
I returned, ascending the winding gray stone steps, and rejoined them on the fringes of the patio space, awkward and self-conscious. I hid a little behind my hair, sticking my hands in my back pockets, and managed a weak apology. My chair was overturned, just as I’d thought it might be, but Kale stood as I approached and righted it, holding it out for me in a gesture of peace-making.
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