Made to Love

by DL Kopp

  When he pulled back, I gazed up at him, breathless. His wings sheltered us from the rain, leaving us in a dark, private cubby on the beach. I was still soaking wet, with both salt water and the monster’s fluids, but I couldn’t have been happier.

  “Thank you,” I breathed, and he winked at me.

  So in love.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  My dad was standing in the front door when Octavius and I walked up. He had his arms crossed and a glare on his face.

  “He saved me,” I spat before he could say anything. “And I wouldn't have been in danger in the first place if someone hadn't been climbing on the roof.”

  That didn't soften his expression in the slightest. “I won't kick him off the property.”

  “Good.” I shifted Octavius's arm on my shoulders. I wasn't sure if I was supporting him, or if he was supporting me. It was probably both.

  I started toward the door, and Dad held up a hand.

  “What now?” I sighed.

  “He can be here,” Dad said, “but he can't come inside.”

  I stomped my food on the ground. “What is your problem?”

  He blinked. “He'll track crud on the floor.”

  “And I won't?” I said, using my hand to point all all the gross we were covered in. “We need to shower!”

  My dad blanched in panic. “You can shower,” he said, pointing to me. “He can use the garden hose.”

  “Cal,” Octavius said. “It's okay. Really.”

  I turned to look at him. Even covered in white ooze, I had never seen anything prettier. I didn't know how he could stand to even peep at me when he could look in the mirror and lose himself in the best face the world had ever seen.

  “Octavius,” I said in a low voice. “You're with me. He has to accept that.”

  “No I don't!” Dad said. We ignored him.

  Octavius cupped my face in his hands. I leaned to kiss his fingers and tasted the salty goop of the sea monster. I gagged, and Octavius laughed.

  “I'll talk to your dad,” he said, dropping his hand. “It'll be fine. Right, sir?”

  Dad didn't seem to think any such thing. He stormed toward the garage, saying, “Follow me” in a curt tone. Octavius shrugged and followed, his wings drooping slightly.

  I went inside and headed upstairs. True to my word, I was dragging all sorts of disgusting behind me. I didn't pity the maid in the slightest, although I did kind of want to see her face when she saw how the floors looked. It'd be classic.

  As I went in my bathroom, I shrugged off my clothes and looked in the mirror. I seemed even more blah than usual, thanks to my limp hair and cut-up body. And it looked like I lost a lot of weight, too, so I was probably going to go up another cup size. Ugh. As if this day wasn't rough enough. Why was eating so hard?

  I climbed into the shower and let the water sluice off my body. It was great to be able to choose the temperature: in this case, so hot my skin would turn red. I didn't care if I looked like a lobster – I needed everything off me, as soon as possible.

  After a few minutes, I was pretty clean, so I stepped out of the shower and started towel-drying my hair. The last thing I needed was a blow dryer right now; I was very low-maintenance, so even the thought of digging it out of my things right now made me scowl. I even limited my makeup application to mascara, eyeshadow, foundation, and lipstick. Just enough to not look like a cow.

  I put a terrycloth bathrobe on and stepped out into the house. I found a window that looked over the garage area and spotted my dad and Octavius. Dad had the hose trained on Octavius's body, and he looked downright malicious, but Octavius was taking the spray with his eyes closed and his arms extended. He looked more like he was dancing than hosing off octopus goo. I couldn't take my eyes off him, and I didn't much want to, either.

  Which is why I didn't notice when a tall body approached, pinned my arms behind me, and clapped a hand over my mouth. I shrieked, but the noise was eaten by the massive palm over my lips.

  I took a closer look at the arm. There was stitching all up and down, and at least two different skin tones.

  Byron.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “Don’t scream,” he murmured, “please, please don’t scream.”

  Eyes bulging, I tried to twist around to look at him, but he held me firm. I struggled, but his arms were like iron-clad straps holding me in place. It was like struggling against a tall, muscular brick wall.

  When I realized I couldn’t fight him, I forced my body to relax. Byron’s hand on my face smelled musty, with a chemical tang—like my dad’s lab.

  He breathed heavily against my hair, refusing to budge until my body had gone completely limp. His breath was hot. Even in the cold, drafty room, I felt like I was sweltering in his grip. He must have been running an internal temperature well over a hundred.

  “Promise you won’t scream?” Byron asked.

  No.

  Of course I wanted to scream. I wanted Octavius to come save me from this new monster. But he wouldn’t have been able to hear me out on the lawn—especially past the thunder and the sound of the hose.

  And yet, something in Byron’s voice was so gentle, so fragile, like he was breakable despite his rock-hard body. So I nodded, and he eased up on me. Byron stepped back, and I turned to face him.

  I didn’t know who had dressed him, but his fashion sense was terrible. He wore a plaid cardigan rolled up to the elbows over a pair of normal, boot-cut jeans – so last decade – with brown loafers. Byron didn’t quite fit the clothes. His shoulders and muscular chest bulged against the material, and his thighs filled out the jeans tightly enough that it looked like it might burst.

  My eyes traveled up to his face, slowly, reluctantly—I was afraid he would be terrifying, like the time I had glimpsed him in the lab.

  But his eyes were soft under soft blond curls, mismatched as the colors were, and his lips were sensitive. His cheek bones sloped gracefully down to the curves of his mouth, and stitches ran tracks across his face, splitting the flesh into pieces.

  The very tips of his ears were pointed. I reached up with shaking fingers to trace their edge, forgetting that I was supposed to be scared of him. His ears were just as attached as the rest of his parts. They almost looked natural.

  Byron sighed in his deep, rumbling voice, and I realized what I was doing. I jerked my hand back.

  “So you’re my dad’s latest experiment,” I said. He nodded silently. “You’re Byron. You’re the one who cries at night.” Another nod.

  I bit my lip. I should have been scared of him, but this close, he was kind of cute. He looked surprisingly harmless.

  One of his hands came up, and I stepped back, ready to flee. He looked hurt when I reacted so strongly, bringing his fist to his chest. He clutched the stem of a rose just like the one I had found at my door a week before and was now dried and pressed to go in my poetry book.

  “Oh,” I said. “That was your rose.”

  Byron held out the new flower, and I took it from him. “I shouldn’t be here,” he said. “He will be mad at me.” I stared at him dumbly. I nodded, although I wasn’t sure why, and a very faint smile touched his eyes. “Please don’t tell him I got out.”

  “I won’t,” I said, and I meant it. It surprised me.

  Byron stepped away, heading up the stairs. He shot a shy look at me from the top before he disappeared onto the second floor, and I stared after him, mouth gaping open.

  I heard the creak of the secret passage opening, and then a gentle thump as it shut.

  So that was the monster in my dad’s basement.

  Unbelievable.

  My life was suddenly so bizarre. Like something out of a fairy tale. A big tentacle monster one moment, a gentle Frankenstein-like man the next. And Octavius—whatever he was.

  “Calliope?”

  I turned, surprised to see my dad in my doorway. I quickly hid the rose behind my back. “What?”

  “I thought you might want to kno
w that thing is cleaned off and waiting for you on the back porch,” Dad said gruffly.

  “That thing is named Octavius, and I think he’s my boyfriend,” I said, glaring. “You better treat him like that.”

  “He is a siren, and he is dangerous.”

  I stared. “A siren? Really? But I thought sirens were women.”

  “They must breed somehow. What did you expect?”

  “I expected that they’re creatures from mythology that don’t have to breed. Dad, what’s going on?”

  He grunted. “You are too young to know.”

  “I’m seventeen! Eighteen, in a month.”

  Dad gave me an appraising look. “You know I moved here to work on a special project. Yes?” I nodded. “It is not ordinary biology or chemistry. That much I will tell you.”

  I remembered how Dad had been talking in the lab the other night. “Are you working alone?”

  His jaw tightened. “Why would you ask such a thing?”

  “I just thought...” He probably wouldn't have been happy to know I'd been eavesdropping, much less that I'd met the creature in our basement. “If it isn't ordinary, it's probably hard, right?”

  Dad scowled at me. “I have told you that your thing is done and I do not wish to discuss this anymore.”

  He spun and exited, leaving me alone in my bedroom with a rose and a whole lot more questions.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Saturday was a complete waste from that point on. Octavius had left at my father's urging after his hose bath and didn't even wait to say goodbye to me. It hurt, but I figured that even sirens had their limits. I know I certainly did.

  I did some homework and went to sleep super early. I heard the crying again, but I was almost used to it as this point; it was a lullaby all its own, after all.

  My sleep was dreamless. I couldn't help but be disappointed. After the glimpse of Heaven I'd received, I wanted to return. Desperately. But like a gate over my mind, I was blocked from it. I didn't even dream of Octavius, my winged savior. It was nothing but blackness. Like my soul.

  I decided, when I woke up, that I would spend Sunday doing a little writing, followed by a lot of exploring. I hoped to get a hold of Octavius, since he was the one who could explain the most to me right now, but I had the impression he'd remain hidden from me.

  Well, only one way to find out.

  For part one of my plan, I climbed out of bed and grabbed my notebook and pen. I settled in the bathroom to write – it seemed the best place to do it – and I found something completely alarming.

  I didn't have any words.

  My pen hovered over the page for some five minutes, and nothing came out. Apparently, my muse hated me. Fine, I'd had days like that before. I'd scribble my name and see if anything came from that.

  I couldn't write my name. I couldn't see the letters in my mind, or get them on the page. My own name. I threw the notebook and the pen across the room.

  “What is it with this place?” I cried.

  No one answered.

  I stepped out into the hallway and yelled again. “What's with this place?”

  Again, no answer.

  It was odd; I hadn't seen my mom for a while, and even my dad was keeping things quieter than usual. If anyone was going to make noise, it was him.

  I ran outside, into the mist. There was no one around, but then, there wouldn't be around my house. I started walking toward town, even though I was in my bare feet and a big white dress that would get dirty easily. It didn't seem to bother me. It was almost like I was gliding over the road, like I had wings of my own. In a metaphorical way, anyway.

  The town emerged from the mist, and again, no one was around. I gasped, and mist filled my lungs, almost like it was forcing itself in.

  “Help!” I choked, but barely any sound came out. It didn't matter; no one could hear me, anyway.

  What felt like tentacles with big suckers wrapped around me. I tried screaming again, but to no avail. I couldn't draw in air, anyway.

  I was alone, and I was going to die alone.

  Except that I woke up.

  “Calliope!” my mom yelled from outside my door as I sat up in bed. “It's time for breakfast! And you have to eat today! You can't get attacked by squids or octopi or whatever and not get your full protein!”

  “Ha ha,” I said weakly. I don't think she heard, but she walked away from my door anyway.

  I dressed and went downstairs.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  My family sat at the breakfast table, eating in silence. Mom and Dad were on one end, and I on the other, picking at my food absently and occasionally casting looks at them through my bangs.

  There were a lot of questions that still needed to be answered: How did my dad know Octavius is a siren? Why did he hate him so much? Why did he make Byron – how did he make Byron – and what were his other experiments? And where in the world did that thing in the ocean come from?

  Those questions hung between us, unspoken, even though we all knew that they needed to be answered.

  My parents wouldn’t be the ones to answer them, but maybe they didn’t need to be. The key to Dad’s lab hung heavy in my pocket.

  As if a gift from the Heavens, Mom suddenly spoke up. “Your father and I need to travel to Portland today to meet with some of his colleagues. We won’t take long, but we need to stay overnight for some meetings.” I lifted my eyes to hers hopefully. “We don’t want to leave you alone, but…”

  “That’s fine,” I blurted. “I want to be alone.”

  My dad glared. “That thing isn’t allowed in the house.”

  “I know, I know.”

  They exchanged looks, and my mom shrugged. “You’re too old for a babysitter. You can’t have anyone over tonight, and you’ll have to take yourself to school tomorrow. There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, and the maid is still here, and she can contact us if there are any problems.”

  I grinned. “Great.”

  My dad looked dubious, but they didn’t have a choice. They had to make their meetings.

  I was thrilled.

  As they left the house, my mom admonished me again – “Don’t invite anyone over tonight!” – and I nodded, reassuring her and waving them out of the house.

  Truth be told, I didn’t plan on inviting anyone over. I probably wouldn’t have to. Octavius would be watching—and I wanted to speak to Byron more than I wanted to speak to him anyway.

  As soon as their car pulled out, I wrapped my hand around the key in my pocket. Byron.

  But first—food.

  I gathered everything I could carry out of the pantry and ran to the basement door. The key slipped into the lock, and I made my way down the stairs carefully, navigating my dad’s bubbling and hissing lab with all the care of a girl who had grown up around that kind of equipment. Byron was strapped to the table again, but he wasn’t sleeping this time.

  He looked up at me in interest as I settled all the food on my dad’s worktable and approached the leaning bed.

  “How are you secured in this?” I wondered, searching the straps for locks and finding none.

  “You shouldn’t let me out,” Byron said, gazing at me forlornly. “It’s not allowed.”

  “Do you want to stay in there?”

  After a moment, he shook his head. “It’s a switch on the wall.” Byron looked pointedly to the right, and I followed his gaze to a panel on the wall covered in lights and levers.

  “Which one?”

  “On the right.”

  I flipped the switch on the right, and with the groaning sound of gears rotating, the straps lifted and Byron stepped off the table. He was in just his underwear again, and he rubbed his wrists and ankles where they had been chafed by the straps.

  “Are there clothes down here?” I asked, searching the room with my eyes.

  He shook his head. “Father occasionally brings me his clothing. When he’s going to take me on walks.”

  My eyebrows lifted. “F
ather?”

  Byron gazed hungrily at the food on the table. “Not your father. His… friend. The angry one.”

  Before I could acknowledge the thrill of excitement that ran through me – after all, my dad had refused to talk about his partner, even though I was pretty sure there was one – I opened a bag of Doritos and offered it to him. “You don’t have to just look. I brought all this for you, if you want it. You look like a hungry guy.”

  I didn’t have to tell him twice. Byron fell on the food, stuffing his mouth with everything he could get his hands on, and I was glad I'd urged him to eat instead of indulging my own curiosity. Crumbs flew, and it was all immolated with three minutes. Except for a muffin.

  “I know they’re your favorite,” he mumbled, and I smiled.

  “Thanks.” I hopped up onto the work table and peeled the paper off the muffin. “How do you know I like poppy seed muffins? And you knew my name, too, the first time I came down here.”

  “Father discusses you with… your father,” Byron said. He was shy, staring at his feet.

  I took a bite of my muffin, chewing slowly as I watched him. He wasn’t so bad-looking, even with all the stitched-together parts. The mechanical parts of his knees had been replaced with actual flesh since the last time I had seen him bare. “Who’s your father?” I asked, keeping my tone casual. “You know. The angry one.”

  “He is the one who animated me, gave me life,” Byron said. “Your dad helped. They worked together. But I was conceived – designed – by Father.”

  That was unexpected. “I’ve never seen another person here.”

  “There is another passage,” Byron explained, gesturing to the opposite end of the lab, where I had yet to explore. There was a lot I hadn’t gone through yet. My dad’s lab looked like it might have been bigger than the house itself. “That is also where they usually take me outside.”

  “How often is that?”

  Byron hung his head. “Very seldom.”

  I popped the rest of the muffin in my mouth and swallowed. “Do you know what else they’re working on? My dad mentioned his project wasn’t done.”