Made to Love

by DL Kopp

  “I don’t know. I do know that I’m not complete.” He gave me hopeful eyes. “They said when I’m done, they’ll let me go.”

  Somehow, I doubted that was true. Dad was really possessive of his experiments. My heart ached for him—poor Byron, locked in this dark basement. I touched his shoulder. It was so hot.

  I tried to change the subject to cheer him up. “Where did you come from?”

  He looked confused. “What do you mean?”

  “Before you were down here, where were you?”

  “I don’t understand. The first time I opened my eyes, I was here,” Byron said. “My first memory is of flashing lights and a loud roar, and Father standing above me. He was laughing with happiness. I think he was pleased I was born.”

  “You were born an adult?” I asked, brow furrowing. It made me take a second at all of his stitched-together parts. Was he just a really smart robot?

  “I don’t understand,” Byron said softly.

  I squeezed his shoulder, and he smiled. It was a nice smile. “Look, Byron. I’m going to leave soon. I’m going to be an adult in a month and my parents won’t own me anymore. I don’t want to come back, not ever. I can let you out of here – I could let you out right now – and you’ll be free. You can do anything you want.”

  Byron’s smile faded. “I’m not finished.”

  “You don’t want to leave?”

  “I do,” he said. “I want to see the world beyond this basement. But… I am incomplete. I could not survive long.” Byron touched his chest. “This… here… is still a machine. Like many of my joints. Until it is flesh, I will not be free.”

  I bit my lip. “You know they won’t let you go when you’re finished. Nobody puts this much time and secrecy into something they just want to give up.”

  “Father would,” Byron said firmly. “He wanted me to be alive.”

  Ugh. How entirely depressing.

  I stared into his pathetically mismatched eyes – one soft brown, like a puppy, and the other cold and mechanical and black – and knew I couldn’t just leave him. Darn it all, but he was just so pathetic.

  “What can I do to help you?” I asked.

  His face broke into a broad smile. “You could come talk to me, just like this.”

  “You just want to talk?”

  Byron thought silently for a moment, staring around at the lab. “Are you skilled like your dad?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I know a lot about science, and I’m really good at it, but I don’t like it.”

  “Maybe you could help finish me,” he said hopefully. “Then I could be done in a month and leave with you.” Byron hurried to the wall and pulled out my dad’s binders and journals. “Father is gone for a little while—I’m supposed to wait until then. But they won’t notice if their materials are missing.”

  I followed him cautiously, peering around his shoulders. “Dad’s not going to work on you while your father is gone?”

  He shook his head. “He doesn’t know enough. But… maybe you do.”

  “I don’t know, Byron,” I said doubtfully. “I could try.”

  Byron smiled and gave me a thick, leather-bound journal. “That has the details of how I was created.” He grasped my hand, and it disappeared in his palm. He was much bigger than me. “Thank you.”

  “Don’t thank me yet,” I said.

  What had I gotten myself into now?

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  The journal read almost exactly like Frankenstein. It had been a long time since I'd read the novel – I'd first finished it off when I was bored in fifth grade and I'd had nothing else to read – but the journal read more like science-fiction than fact.

  I got through the entire thing that afternoon. I'd understood all of it, even the scribbles that were almost illegible, but it didn't make the ideas any less bizarre. Animated flesh? A living power source? It sounded like I was in a zombie movie or something. I didn't even like zombie movies. Too boring.

  The doorbell rang just as I was closing the cover. I frowned, then stuck the journal under my mattress. No way that I was going to leave it lying around, no matter who was at the door.

  I ran downstairs and opened the door.

  Octavius leaned in the doorframe, looking irresistible. “Hey,” he said.

  “Hey,” I said. “What's going on?”

  He leaned around the edge of the entrance. “Word is your parents are out of the area.”

  “Word...travels fast,” I said. It was hard for me to talk when he was around. I had to take a breath in the middle of a sentence, and I never did that.

  “Does that mean you're going to have a party?”

  “No,” I said, rolling my eyes. “My parents would kill me.”

  “Seems to me you don't much care what your parents think.”

  “Not really, but I like living.” I grinned. “They also said you can't come in while they're gone.”

  “Did they now.”

  I nodded. “I think I could see my way to letting you slip in anyway.”

  “Great,” he said, laughing. “You're a rebel.”

  “You know it,” I said. I turned and smiled coyly over my shoulder at him, and he walked inside, eyes blazing.

  I was officially breaking the rules. And I couldn't give a damn.

  “You want to see my bedroom, right?” I asked. “Or maybe my bathroom?”

  He put a finger over his lips as he mused the possibilities. “How old are you?”

  I frowned. “What does age have to do with it?”

  “I'm curious.”

  “Almost eighteen.”

  He smiled. “I figured.”

  “You're over eighteen, aren't you?” I felt my stomach sink.

  “By a lot,” he said. “Does it bother you? Dating an older man?”

  “Not in the slightest. Would it stop you?”

  “No,” he said. “You have a couch?”

  I laughed. “Over here.”

  He grabbed me, and we kissed passionately. We walked backward and tumbled on the couch and continue to kiss. He was so good at kissing, I could have been satisfied with that alone.

  After a moment, he stopped and pulled back. His face was twisted into a scowl. I sat up and pulled away from him.

  “What's wrong?” I asked.

  “It's just--” He sighed. “I haven't been able to...perform.”

  “I don't understand.”

  He ran a hand through his hair. “There have been others. Not too recently, but others.”

  I nodded and tried not to cry. I should have guessed that a god like him would never be a virgin like me, but it was hard to hear.

  “But I've never been able to...that is, I've never had...”

  I looked down and saw where he was gesturing. “Oh. Oh.”

  He nodded dejectedly. “It's not uncommon for my kind. Some of us can only...perform if we're trying to produce offspring.”

  I wanted to cry again, but this time, I wanted to cry for him and not for me. I shifted forward and hugged him. “It's okay,” I said. “I've never been with a man before, anyway. It's enough just to be with you.”

  “But I want to share everything with you,” he said.

  “We have so much already,” I whispered. “Our music, our love.”

  He nuzzled my hair. “I do love you. You know that.”

  “Yes, I do.”

  We pulled apart and leaned together. I knew I could make him ready. I knew I could do anything for him that he wanted, if he gave me the chance. Certainly, I needed to try.

  But I saw a shadow looming behind him, and I gasped. “Byron!”

  Octavius whirled around. Huge wings popped out of his back, and I ducked to avoid them. If I hadn't, they probably would have broken my nose; they looked that powerful.

  “Octavius, wait!”

  But either he ignored me, or he didn't hear, for he was jumping off the couch and rushing forward.

  I screamed like my soul was breaking. For all I
knew, it was. Breaking into tiny, bitty pieces.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “What are you doing?” I shrilled, clutching at my hair with my hands. “Byron! Octavius!”

  Byron’s hands clapped down on Octavius’s shoulders. His face was contorted with fury, no longer beautiful, but entirely monstrous. He jerked Octavius off the floor and flung him into a wall.

  Octavius grunted, his wings crumpling behind him.

  “No!” I threw myself on Byron, grabbing his arm. I didn’t try to hurt him—I just didn’t want him going after Octavius again. “What are you doing?”

  He looked at me, and it was like he didn’t even recognize me. His eyes were blank. No recognition. Byron wrenched his arm from my grasp and leapt upon Octavius, hauling back and striking him square across the face.

  Octavius used his momentum to roll them until he was on top, and then he snapped his wings straight out, giving one hard flap to propel himself backwards. “Calliope!” he shouted. “Run!”

  “I’m not leaving you!”

  Byron barreled toward Octavius, but the siren dodged, ducking under his blow. Instead, Byron hit the couch, and I had to jump out of the way to avoid getting hit.

  Octavius twirled, kicking Byron square in the back.

  “Enemy,” Byron growled.

  “Don’t fight!” I wailed, curling up in the corner. “Please!”

  They grappled, rolling across the living room. Byron’s tried to grasp Octavius’s throat, but he dodged, and Byron instead ended up with a fistful of shirt. He ripped, and Octavius was shirtless—and free.

  He pulled away from Byron and dropped by my side, shielding us with his wings.

  “I won’t let him hurt you,” he said.

  “Don’t be an idiot, he doesn’t want to hurt me!” I pushed Octavius off, and as Byron ran for us again, I got in his way.

  It would occur to me later that, perhaps, it wasn’t a good idea to get in the way of the sentient zombie equivalent of a raging bull. But in that moment, I was absolutely certain Byron would stop in time to keep from hitting me.

  I was wrong.

  The world went black.

  Chapter Thirty

  I woke up with a raging headache and two very concerned faces standing over me. I groaned, flinging an arm over my eyes to shield them from the view. “Did I die?” I asked nobody in particular.

  “I’m so sorry,” Byron mumbled, and I could feel his huge, hot hands enveloping my own. “Calliope, I would never—”

  “If you don’t stop touching her, we will pick up our fight where we left off,” Octavius said, venom dripping from the words. “Now.”

  Byron didn’t move. “I thought he was hurting you.”

  I dropped my arm and looked at him. His eyes had gone serene again. He was still so beautiful. Beside Octavius, he was nowhere near as pristine – he was a ragged mess, both in his flesh and expression – but there was something charmingly beautiful about even his tortured visage.

  “No, Byron,” I said, squeezing his hands.

  Octavius sat on the bed beside me, placing a possessive hand on my thigh. “I said—” he began, but I interrupted him.

  “Byron doesn’t understand,” I said gently. “He’s only been alive for a few months, and he’s never been off this manor’s grounds. He’s definitely never seen… a man and a woman. Together.”

  “I thought he was hurting you,” Byron repeated.

  “I know, Byron,” I said. “But he wasn’t.”

  “Unlike you, I would never hurt her,” Octavius said. I gazed up at him adoringly. Even when he was being a jerk, he was so perfect.

  I shook myself. Stay on topic.

  “If you two can’t stop fighting, you’re both going away. Byron, back to the basement. Octavius, back to… uh… wherever sirens go.”

  “You would send me away?” Octavius asked, brushing his fingers down my cheek. I practically melted into a puddle, but then I remembered what he said—“I haven’t been able to… perform.” Calm down, Calliope, I told myself. No need getting excited when it can’t go anywhere.

  “You know what, Octavius?” I said. “I’m kind of hungry. Do you think you could make me something to eat?”

  He frowned at Byron. “I don’t want to leave you alone with this beast.”

  “I think we have to have The Talk.” I added special emphasis to the last two words.

  “Are you sure you’ll be safe?”

  “Absolutely,” I said firmly.

  Octavius stood and went for the door. “If he hurts you…”

  Byron growled. Octavius left.

  As soon as the siren was gone, Byron calmed. He squeezed my hand again. “What do you mean, the talk?” he asked.

  I searched my memory for the time I had gotten the birds and the bees explained to me by my own mother. As I recalled, it had been a horrendously embarrassing experience. Of course, she was my mom, and Byron was just some nice kid who lived in my basement. No problem.

  “You know you’re a boy, right?” I asked, and Byron nodded.

  “Anatomy has been a part of the meager education your dad has given me,” Byron said. “I know that you are a girl, and that it’s not the same thing as being a boy.”

  “Okay,” I said, warming to the subject. “Did he teach you anything else? Read any books to you?”

  “He taught me to read on a few books.” He smiled. “I really liked Shakespeare.”

  “Great! You remember in, um, Romeo and Juliet? No, wait, that’s no good. You remember Much Ado About Nothing? Claudio and Hero were getting married.” I sat up, and Byron helped me prop the pillows up. “Did my dad explain marriage?” He shook his head. “It’s when a boy and a girl like each other a lot and decide they want to be friends for their entire lives. Octavius and I are friends.”

  Byron looked wounded. “Friends don’t hurt each other.”

  I took a deep breath. Oh boy. “We were just kissing. That’s what friends like we do when we really like each other. It’s part of… well, if we decided to get married, that would be part of how we would reproduce. That was part of your anatomy class, right?”

  His eyes widened. “You would make a new life?”

  “Not like you. But yeah, we could have a baby.”

  “I think there’s more to it than that,” Byron said slowly. “There’s much about love in Shakespeare.”

  “Yes.” I flushed, thinking about Octavius. “There really is.”

  Byron thought to himself, gazing out the window. He really was very, very handsome. I wondered if the stitches hurt. “Are we friends?”

  “Yes,” I said, “of course.”

  “Then…”

  He leaned over the bed, and before I could realize what he was doing, he kissed me. His lips were hot like the rest of him, and soft, but a line ran down the middle of the right side. A stitch. He tasted like iron and musk, like wine.

  It was a chaste kiss, and when he pulled back, I touched my own lips. Wow. That was… kind of nice.

  No. No it wasn’t. Octavius. Right.

  “Uh,” I said, searching for words. “Um. We’re not friends like that, Byron.”

  “But did you like it?” he asked, smiling. Cocky jerk.

  I didn’t want to lie to him, so I said, “It was unexpected.”

  “Marriage is exclusive,” Byron said. “Don John was in love with Claudio, but once she married, he couldn’t be with her. Are you married to Octavius?”

  “No,” I admitted.

  His smile turned into a grin. Byron stood. “I am reading books too. Maybe I can help assemble myself. But my education is lacking, and I still have so much to learn. Will you teach me?”

  “I’m not really much of a teacher,” I said.

  He took my hand and helped me out of bed. I had to crane my neck to look up at him. “You know very much. I am eager to learn.” Byron lifted my hand to his mouth and kissed my knuckles. Where he had learned that, I had no idea, but I swooned. “I am going to go study. Will you
come to me tonight and teach me?”

  “Sure,” I said, struggling to catch my breath. “Why not?”

  And then he was gone, disappearing up the stairs, and Octavius entered the room not moments later.

  “I have food for you,” he said, holding a tray awkwardly. “You like peanut butter and jelly, right?”

  Chapter Thirty-One

  “You know,” I said as I walked toward the lab after my dinner. “You don't have to stay. It's just going to be a lot of science.”

  Octavius growled. “I won't leave you alone with him.”

  “But I've been alone with him a lot!”

  “It isn't the same,” he said. “I love you. I must protect you.”

  Great. There was no way he was going to leave me now. I could see myself having to leave a chair in the corner of my room so he could watch me all night and make sure I wasn't assaulted by Byron. I'd never sleep another wink.

  And if my dad found out about all this...

  I shook my head as we entered the lab. The whirring of the machines was almost soothing, in its own way. It was deceptive, alluring. If I kept this up, I'd be studying chemistry willingly and ignoring my poetry, heaven forbid.

  Byron stood in the back by the books. His back – which I had never looked at before now – was gorgeous: muscular and dimpled. It was like he took the best of four or five different very attractive, ripped men. I certainly wasn't complaining.

  Octavius grumbled, and I leaned over to give him a kiss on the cheek. “Seriously, you can go,” I said.

  “No,” Octavius said. He sat on Byron's usual gurney, crossed his arms and legs, and scowled in our direction. I had a feeling he'd be like that for a while.

  Oh well.

  I crossed the room and ran a hand down Byron's back. I felt the seams with my palm; they were almost softer than the rest of his skin. He shivered under my touch.

  “Calliope!” Octavius shouted.

  “What?” I asked, turning toward him.

  “Be careful. The creature doesn't think as we do.”

  It was Byron's turn to scowl. I sensed that things would become ugly if I didn't intervene, so I stepped in the gap between them and held up my hands. “Look. We have a lot of work to do, and I don't need any interruptions, okay? My parents are going to be around tomorrow, and I need to take advantage of this now. Truce?”