“Yes.” Jesse forced down a swallow to quell the emotional surge that crept up his throat. “I know who’s to blame.” He pointed at Eric, still on his cell. “You know me better than that.”
Tim bowed onto one knee in respect to Gray Wolf. The gesture revealed the amber streak of hair that extended from his scalp to his chin. The bronze broach reflected the sun’s rays. “RIP Gray Wolf. He went out on a limb to help me. I will never forget him.” Tim brushed the unruly hair away from his eyes. “As you and Gray Wolf recall, my life’s work is to make sure Brian doesn’t make the same mistakes I did. You promised to help.”
“And I will—I have so many times.” Jesse’s eyes burned as he stared at Eric. “Keep your friends close; keep your enemies closer. Something like that. Jesse tried to place a hand on Tim’s shoulder and gave up when he hit rushing air. “The plan is in the works. Athorsis has seen to it.”
“Be careful. Until later…” Tim’s image began to flip up and down, reminding Jesse of when the antenna on Gray Wolf’s old television fell out of sync with the VHF frequency range. The flipping analog screen used to drive him crazy. His grandfather blamed it on unhappy spirits.
Static replaced Tim’s image. His friend had returned to wherever or whenever. Jesse had no idea which and refused to compare Tim’s quirkiness to Brian Ross. Rolling his shoulders, he clenched his jaw as he approached the dusty truck.
Eric tipped his ball cap and nodded to a few Navajos who trudged by. A quick glance at Jesse prompted him to jog down the hill to meet him halfway. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been there to prevent his murder.” Eric held out his arms ready to embrace him.
Jesse brushed by Eric as though he were Satan’s spawn. Eric had called him, urging him to join his vampire slayer team. Jesse rejected the offer at first until he realized working with the scum would keep him within sight. The day he found Gray Wolf murdered, drained of all his blood, he called Eric and insisted he come by, so they could discuss him joining the hunt. Eric agreed and conveniently offered to arrive on the day he buried his grandfather. Jesse didn’t believe in coincidences.
“Cowards strike when you least expect,” Jesse said. “Do you honestly think you could have stopped them?” When Eric’s brow furrowed, Jesse looked down at his scuffed boots. “The coroner entered heart attack as the cause of death to avoid spooking the superstitious. Anyways, thanks for coming.” Jesse had emailed his mother that her father died in his sleep. Stationed with Jesse’s father in the Antarctic, neither of his parents could make it back for the funeral. Probably a good thing, seeing as they’d never understand the complicated mess he had involved himself in.
“To be honest, I can’t do it without your help.” Eric stepped beside Jesse and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. “Look, I can stay, but only for a few days.”
“There’s no reason for either of us to stay. I asked a friend to watch the ranch, so I can help you destroy the nosophors.” Deserving or not, luck had been on Eric’s side when he intercepted the package Brian mailed him, a federal offense in Jesse’s opinion. For now, he continued to monitor the thief and discovered Eric had secured the jump drive. With the anti-vamp serum now in Eric’s clutches, Jesse hoped Brian didn’t mind if he adopted the tactic of keeping the enemy under close watch.
“It’s a thankless, dangerous job.”
When Jesse failed to respond, Eric glanced at him, his jaw tensing in reaction to Jesse’s brazen stare. He whistled. “Okay, no fear here. Hunting season is now open. Let’s bag us some nosophors.”
The newly formed partnership left Jesse feeling ill. Still, he had plenty of time to ensure the twins’ safety. Brian and Ariane already had enough demons to contend with. Together, he and Eric would solicit some of his research pals into synthesizing a super-concentrated serum. With the anti-vamp formula in hand, they could then produce it themselves. Less than five milliliters would be ideal for a tranquilizer dart. The low dose would be strong enough to incapacitate and deplete the Fallen’s enhanced abilities for hours, rendering the victim helpless.
If that didn’t ice the cake, Eric bragged how he planned to cremate the bodies and encase their ashes inside a welded-tight container. When the collection of containers accumulated, as the final step, Eric would then toss them from a helicopter into an active volcano.
Great plot, Jesse thought, but only if they hunted rival clans, which he hoped to urge Eric to eliminate foremost. The search for someone to fund the seek and destroy project might add a notch of difficulty, until Eric suggested the wealthy Count and Countess Colton siblings. “Good luck with that endeavor, cave boy.” Seeing Tim today gave him the strength to work on Brian and Ariane’s behalf.
12
ANTS IN HIS PANTS
E motions piled on top of one another, both contradicting and foreboding. Never this disoriented, a relentless concoction of envy, desire, disgust, dejection, and loneliness bombarded Ariane all at once. She no longer experienced withdrawal symptoms from the anti-vamp serum, its effects long gone. So, what caused this cataclysm of negative emotions?
During Brian’s short childhood into adulthood, Ariane worried she would undergo the same side effects caused by their supposed transformation. Brian’s psychotic fits nearly killed Duncan. She knew better now, this being their natural growth process whether anti or not. However, because she morphed into complex creatures where the exchange of thought processes between mammalian and insect created glitches, she had to contend with a novel type of psychosis. Her newly evolved nature had seized control.
Still it hurt. Enraged and spiteful that Brian had fared better than she did with the anti-attributes inherited by Turian, she sought retribution. At first, his flat-out refusal to take her to visit Julia before their mother died horrified her. She never expected such steadfast indifference. He kept making excuses, kept stalling. Was he genuinely concerned for her safety or just selfish, reluctant to share his abilities with her?
“Make him answer for his deception.”
The voice inside her head, the one that haunted her of late, lobbied for payback. If she ignored it, the voice thundered over and over again until she pleaded it to stop by promising to fulfill its will. “He will answer,” she replied.
The droning ceased. Peace at last for the moment. She paused to gaze at the few stars above dusk’s curtain, her mind playing out several scenarios. Brian wasn’t her only target. Plans for Sabree emerged as well; however, she’d make sure he received the shorter end of the stick. The least painful end.
On the outer border of the golf course, Ariane stood next to a knee-high mound in the sand, a fire ant colony she called her own. The previous queen’s futile stand against Ariane sent the ant skittering away. As the new queen, Ariane controlled the colony of nearly a million workers. While she overlooked the golf course from the bay window, she often coerced her army to sting a few caddies who stood on the sideline while the golfers teed off. Their dances of pain made her laugh on many occasions. When had she become so wicked? Sabree would ask her what was so funny. Her lips twisted up in response. If only he knew.
In addition to emotions, humans combined touch, smell, sight, hearing, and intuition to interpret their world. Fire ants secreted pheromones to chemically communicate with the colony to elicit alarm, trail formation, and queen recognition. To her amazement, she secreted the correct pheromone without knowing how—the pheromone-induced behavior hard-wired to correspond with automated reactions.
These two distinct worlds contradicted one another, but her mind adapted effortlessly to the eusocial species of bees and ants. The drawbacks of morphing into a beetle or fly left her feeling confused, unimportant, or dirty. She fought daily, sifting through the residual buggy effects that had infiltrated her mind. Ariane clapped her hands together to swipe the alien concepts from her consciousness. The noise worked.
Not yet ready to morph into the queen, she secreted her distinct pheromone to rouse the colony. Her army marched at her feet in wait of their assigned task. Bri
an would be jogging by at any moment. Her brother enjoyed a slow run over the sandy boundary of the golf course.
“Now, girls, play nice, just ants in his pants. We don’t want him to balloon into an infestation of stings, so he can’t make it home.” She giggled at the visual of her brother, his body swelling as if he donned a fat suit, rolling across the sand dunes to flee the ants.
In his case, anaphylactic shock would never come into play. His elite health and immortality could easily ward off a few thousand ant bites. Ariane stared at the townhouses from her position. Her back straightened as she sensed her brother’s approach. A few boulders, her ambush, had already been neatly arranged across his path. Her body twitched as she morphed into the most impressive queen, both in size and plated armor. No clothing lay where she once stood.
Inside her mind, Ariane imagined her eyes blinking, a knee-jerk reaction. She barely got used to the compound eyesight of tiny lenses that offered poor resolution at best. She wiggled her head to balance the antennae. The organs allowed her to detect pheromones, air currents, and vibrations. The march began with her leading the way. She saw Brian nearing the obstacle. His steps, although light, produced a thunderous vibration that rocked her antennae. She wiggled her head and marched on.
3 3 3
Without losing stride, the townhouses came into view, the turn up ahead. I never made it. My yelp frightened off a pair of crows. Face and hands left imprints in the soft sand as I spat out a mouthful of dirt and swore. Crouched on all fours, the large boulders behind me looked out of place. Someone had propped them smack in the middle of the path. Boulders? Someone’s idea of a sick joke. My gaze shot skyward for the mothership of a storm. A repeat episode of the rest stop from hell fired electric sparks up my spine. One spark zapped my ankle.
A bite not a zap stung my calf next. I sat upright on my haunches and glanced around the ground for the culprit. “Ouch!” Something stung my other leg. “Hey!” A sting on my thigh produced another yelp followed by a slap.
“What the—” Jumping up, the dark cluster of ants amassed around my sneakers revealed itself, crawling up each calf toward the leg of my shorts. I spun around to jog home, but belly flopped onto the ground, falling over a huge form that vanished. The ants continued to march up my legs and thighs, stinging along the way. Sand blew into my eyes, blinding me.
The frenzied dance began. I slapped my legs, brushing the ants off my thighs and groin. I leapt to my feet next and spun in place faster than an F5 tornado. Ants flew off in every direction, the queen ant along with her army. Sand and dust twirled overhead until I broke out of the whirlwind and tore off toward the townhouse. Wheezing breaths burned my lungs.
A few minutes later, I jumped into the tub and filled it full of hot soapy water. Soft whiffs of lavender filled the steamy bathroom. Early morn sunlight seeped in through the frosted glass window. The pain had subsided, but the prickly stings swelled as a reminder of the ant attack. I peeked at my nude body beneath the suds and whimpered. White pustules, the area of each one swollen and red, dotted my legs. I gently placed a washcloth on my groin, leaned back, and squeezed my eyes shut. The nasty bugs even bit me there. The healing process slowed to a crawl, all because I refused to feed. Ariane’s tarantula dance came to mind. She wouldn’t dare.
My senses on alert mode, Ariane hovered outside my room to make sure I survived her little attack. How thoughtful of her. She needn’t bother. Heck, if the Fallen couldn’t bruise me, certainly a few ants shouldn’t do any damage. From the hallway, her whispered thoughts infiltrated my mind, my telepathic aptitude more receptive than hers.
“Sorry, Brian. Perhaps this lesson will teach you not to exploit your abilities in front of me. And thank you, girls, my elite army.”
Army indeed. Although scattered across the golf course, her ants had done their job. Stung me all at once. Phone in hand, I searched Wikipedia for a few facts about ants. Sensitive to vibration or movement, ants stung when people jerked their arms or legs. Whatever caused one ant to sting, triggered the other to sting for the same reason. Her colony had worked collectively as one. As expected, Wikipedia mentioned nothing about my sister taking control of her own nest.
Our minds still connected, mine aware, hers unaware, the tears that stung my sister’s eyes, stung my own. A twinge of guilt made her throat burn even though I suffered only a few bites. Had she gone overboard? Aye. Did her prank teach me a lesson? No. Between us, a heavy sigh released some of our tension. My mind released hers as she backed away from the door.
“I owe you one, Sis.”
13
BLOOD IS THICKER
F or days, I hid inside my room. Number one reason for the recluse behavior was my unwillingness to explain the bites. Ariane placed the boulder-sized rocks across the path, hellbent on launching me into a belly flop on top of the anthill. Incite the buggy residents. Although the evidence stared me in the face, I refused to believe she’d provoke such an attack out of spite.
For the same reasons, I gave up jogging the sand dunes near the golf course to avoid similar attacks. My refusal to feed slowed the healing process, sapped my energy. Without replenishing on blood, the pustules took forever to heal.
The Caderen and fire ants had depleted my spirit, strength, and magnified the urge to feed. Good news, I managed to survive the Caderen attack that would have destroyed Turian or any of the Fallen. But wee ants? I glanced at the amulet and wondered if my unique immortality would protect me inside the portal.
Today, I decided to venture out and find an unworthy victim to feed on, and then confront those who probably despised me. To appear amiable, I put on a navy sweater, jeans, and sneakers. On the outing, besides takeout, I thought of getting my hair trimmed so I wouldn’t have to tie it back. Since none of my flatmates cared or noticed, I left without telling anyone I had gone out for the day.
By noon, I finished the hunt. Two derelicts, a wanted murderer, and a pedophile had donated enough blood to cover the week. Hunting criminals eased my conscience, somewhat, thus enabling me to label myself a vigilante, dark angel, easygoing vampire, or the combo of all three. The ant bites healed completely after I fed on the three-time murderer. At least that’s what the poor soul claimed in an attempt to scare me off. The fangs made him wet his pants.
The nasty part of the day over, I stopped at a styling salon that excepted walk-ins. The stylist had layered my hair, leaving it long enough to sweep behind my ears. Out of habit, I finger-brushed the strands aside. The softer, less severe look met my approval. The time had come to face my flatmates to offer a truce.
“I’m home,” I called out. The empty townhouse echoed my lighthearted greeting. Voices next door drew me to the adjacent door. Finding it ajar, I slipped into stealth mode and stole a glimpse inside.
Ariane sat opposite Sabree at the kitchen table, her makeshift desk, discussing the serum. “I mastered the formula. Tablet form is in the works. I decided to call them Colton Tabs. Still not used to our new name, Ross.”
“Good news,” Sabree said.” How soon?”
“Another week at most.”
Although she purposely named them after our fabricated surname, the news meant freedom from both leeches. I let intelligence preside over folly by asking Ariane for forgiveness first. Dropping the veil, I allowed them to perceive my presence.
Ariane nodded as though she approved of the new look while Sabree’s brows shot under his bangs. “Who died? Why else cut off your warrior’s tail?” he asked. His tone sounded a bit amused.
The bizarre way both eyed me up and down as though something had gone amiss made me twitch. Did she know about the ant bites? “Can we talk?”
“We’re busy,” Ariane said. By the look on Sabree’s face, her curt attitude surprised even him. She offered no explanation and sipped her tea instead. “Not much to say.”
“There’s heaps to say. An apology perhaps? For you too, Sabree.” My nerves on edge, the implanted brogue, however artificial, emerged richer than ever. Se
eing no sign of Abyss around, I rolled my shoulders to loosen the kinks. A shrill alarm buzzed my mind. Intruders?
Thunder deafened our ears, followed by a radiant aura that enveloped a woman’s celestial form and wings. Warm light nearly blinded us as the abrupt intrusion stunned us where Sabree and Ariane sat, and I stood.
The female Malakhim assumed a corporeal body. An electrical spray diffused as her massive white wings folded into her back. Platinum hair danced from the eruption between two worlds.
“My God,” I whispered, leaning against the wall for support. This week was full of surprise visits. Concerned for Ariane and Sabree, I stumbled over to them. They had already recovered, curiosity overtaking apprehension.
“Who is she?” Ariane asked.
“Malakhim,” Sabree uttered. “The beings who banished the Fallen. She and Turian were an item before he fell from the portal heavens.”
She spoke in a peaceful melodic voice, demanding our utmost attention. “May Brian and I have a word alone?”
Sabree glared at her, his eyes a bright turquoise as he backed out of the room into the other townhouse. Ariane rose to follow him.
No doubt either one would wander too far, the opportunity to eavesdrop too tempting. The protective bubble around her probably prevented them from listening in. I studied the woman’s face, her exquisite feminine features. Her long platinum hair defied gravity. Emerald eyes glistened with a supernatural glow.
She moved toward me as if she skated across ice and sat at the table. “I have much to tell you in so little time.”
The immortals involved in my life always seemed to be in a rush to leave. I glanced aside to hide my regret.
“Look at me, Brian,” she said. “I’m here to warn you about the Malakhim. Why we seek your death—Ariane’s too.” In response to my clenched jaw, her tone hardened. “To appreciate us, you must first understand the beings of utmost sovereignty known as the Lighted Ones. Humans have revered them as the archangels in the Celestial Hierarchy.”
Against the Fallen Page 8
