Shared Redemption

by Michel Prince

  “Kanga is to be in my room the second she arrives,” I bellowed.

  I raged up the stairs to the kitchen. I rummaged in the cupboards only to find nothing, as usual. Do these women not know how to shop? Or are they wasting my nourishment on the few bantlings they had managed to save?

  The screen door screeched in protest as I flung it open. The rusted spring yelped like a dog being kicked.

  I pushed my way to the nearest house. Taking the three steps at once, I entered the kitchen to see four bantlings poised ready to fight. Their muscles pronounced, rippling down their bodies. Their skin was various shades of grey. These were the youngest of the bantlings. One was at least a week old, but not ready for the world yet. His form was human, but I couldn’t tell if he was black, white, yellow or some sick shade of orange. He still looked like death warmed over with a drab slate coloring.

  Fucking, walking gargoyles is what they were. The faces still hardened and square, with protruding cheekbones that went out with the Neanderthals. Their horns were strong and pronounced, not retracted like they were supposed to be when I send them out. The youngest one was like a fucking ram, with horns curling twice before coming to a point. What kind of weak creatures were they sending us?

  Only one of them had proper horns, but he was the smallest, weakest, the one most likely to be eaten by the other three if it wasn’t for their mothers taking care of them.

  The bantlings had left a ripped mess of their meat which had been so nicely prepared by KFC. I snatched the virtually empty bucket as one of them attempted to jump me.

  “Know your place,” I growled, sending him back into a corner. The other animals grumbled and laughed. I had no idea when they would learn to speak, but I couldn’t imagine any of these creatures seducing a woman or talking a man into making some hideous decision.

  That was what the Deumos were up here for. The fact that the bantlings usually stood a foot or two over the Deumos still amazed me. These females could control them in a way that almost made me nervous. Almost.

  I walked back to the main house in time to see Kanga finally appear in the yard.

  “What took you so long?”

  “My apologies, Yahweh.”

  I bit into the deep-fried chicken leg and swallowed the greasy mess. Salt flowed through my veins once more. I whipped the bone at Kanga’s head.

  “Tell me why the Dark One is still alive.”

  “I…I…I…”

  “Get inside.”

  I grabbed her arm and shoved her into the house.

  Everyone gathered in the kitchen eating a sweet treat. Kanga’s body flew across the room, her hips hitting the island in the middle of the kitchen. She collapsed on the floor with a sharp howl.

  “Don’t you dare cry in pain, bitch,” I warned. The third piece of chicken finally consumed, I threw the empty bucket at Kanga. “Who here knows how to shop? Who? The bantlings are on the verge of emaciation and the only thing in this house seems to be cookies and cakes. What are you, a bunch of children?”

  My fist hit the pan of cakelike substance and it flew, hitting the horrid tinted chandelier, which was supposed to signify a dining area. Bits of cake splattered along the wall, while the house seemed to stiffen from my outburst.

  Nemesio and Zuma were the only ones not in fear of me.

  “Whores, are you enjoying this?”

  “No, Yahweh,” Nemesio answered.

  “I’m sure they are grieved at your disappointment in them.” Pivane deigned to step toward me.

  “Did I ask for your opinion? I do not recall asking you to speak.”

  “I apolo—”

  “Shut that open sore that you call a mouth. This shit has to stop. We’ve lost over half in the last week. Twice today the Dark One and the female were within our sights and yet they still live.”

  “Kanga, Zuma do you need to be replaced with trackers that are not afraid to get their hands dirty?”

  “I injured him.”

  My hand flew, sending Kanga into the fridge.

  “Wow, you racked him. That took him down for all of a minute. I’m not worried if he’ll reproduce. I want him taken out! And where are the ashes? In a drain somewhere, I assume.”

  “We can go and retrieve them,” Keir stated.

  “Well, let me find you a strainer,” I said, my sarcasm hitting an all-time high. “Kanga, you’re inside from now on. You found the bantling in record time, but you didn’t destroy the Frozen.”

  “If I would’ve killed him, his partner would’ve killed me.”

  “I’m sorry, are you trying to make a point?” I asked as my elbows supported my weight on the island. “Like I care if you die. You being replaced would take less than a day. Frozen take weeks if not years to mature enough to fight.”

  I buried my head in my hands and tried to get my breathing under control. The last thing I needed was an excuse for the Prince to visit again. His last visit left me beaten and bruised for three weeks. Someone shifted.

  “Who is moving? Right now, not one of you should even be breathing until I dismiss you.”

  The room silenced. How did Kanga find the bantling so quickly? More importantly how did the Frozen? I tried to figure out how many times that portal had been used, but my brain kept coming up blank.

  “Kanga, you shall go to your chamber and meditate. If my rage does not subside soon, be prepared for a visit.”

  “Yes, Yahweh.”

  I could hear her footsteps as she walked down the hallway.

  My head raised slowly to see my weak coven with their heads bowed in shame.

  Chapter 4

  Kiriana

  My mind woke before my body, first taking in smells and sounds around me. A musk-like smell filled the room, reminding me of when I snuck in the men’s locker room after a football game. Memories of me and…what was his name? Derek? David? Dirk? He was a defensive end. Number fifty-three. Jesus, I can remember his damn jersey number but can’t remember…Ray. How the hell did I get Derek out of Ray? Dirk. Dirk was the point guard on the basketball team. And David was the wrestler. So maybe I wasn’t too far off. But who the hell was Derek?

  Ray. He was fun. A little rough, but that was okay. Being held down. Tossed from here to there. But I was not in the locker room now. This was too quiet. My stomach rumbled and I didn’t think it was from hunger.

  My leg was tight and sore, but not a gripping, make-me-want-to-scream pain. I turned to my left side and my right leg now felt numb. Now fear made me wake up. What if it was a phantom pain? What if my leg was not there? My hand glided down my right side, but I was afraid to go below my hip.

  I sighed in relief as I felt my thigh, then my knee. I curled my leg up to feel my calf. The pain was back to stabbing, but it was wonderful. It meant my leg was still attached.

  Finally I opened my eyes to find the room lit by pillar candles of various colors and sizes. They must not have been scented, because the smell was not something anyone would buy.

  In the corner of the room, Nye was passed out in a chair, which was way too small for him. His legs were rocking and crossed at the ankles.

  I was in a four-poster bed under a canopy of silver gossamer. I pushed myself up and adjusted the pillows. The satin sheets were slick and soft on my skin, something I hadn’t felt in a long time. Cotton and flannel were comforting, but not sensual. Afraid of what I’d find, I slowly pulled back the teal covers. Looking at my leg, I sighed in relief again. This one must have been louder.

  “Oh good. You’re awake,” a groggy voice escaped Nye’s full lips.

  “Yeah. Can you tell me what happened yet?”

  “No. Kiri?”

  “Yes?”

  “Is there someone that’d be looking for you? I mean like a husband or do you have a pet? That sounded bad…I didn’t mean…I wouldn’t want your cat to die…I can send someone to feed it. You are safe with me. I hope you know that. This situation is precarious at best. I know it’s cliché, but I am in more danger than you.
”

  “I’ve tortured and killed so many,” I teased. “I understand your fear.”

  He smiled. His eyes were too considerate for me not to trust him a little.

  “I have a friend. DJ. He comes around a lot. He’ll be looking for me. We always hang out on Monday nights after work.”

  “I’ll get you back in time for your engagement.”

  “Okay, I’ll get ready to go. What about my leg?”

  “It should heal. Can I look at it?” Nye held his hands up. “Just to see if it’s healed.”

  “Sure,” I pushed the covers back more.

  Nye sat on the side of the bed. His fingers gently touched my right thigh and I felt heat coming off them. My muscles eased with his touch. Looking at him, I smiled.

  “You’re warm.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “Yes, you are,” I reached for his hand, wrapping my fingers around his. “Your hands are warm. They feel good.”

  Nye looked at me. His eyes were black. Not brown like I thought they’d be. Black, but not empty.

  “I told you, I won’t hurt you.”

  “I heard you the first two times. I know,” my voice had softened. “I’m not scared anymore. But can you talk to me?”

  “Turn over.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need to check the wound.”

  “Right.”

  Now the heat was in my face. I’m sure it was because it was turning fuchsia.

  “Sorry,” I said. “You’re just so militant in your orders. Do this. Do that. So formal. Unfeeling.”

  Nye looked at me, his face unchanged. I turned over and felt his fingers heating up more as they glided up the back of my leg. His thumbs met over the wound. Suddenly, his fingers cooled.

  “Oh.”

  “Did that hurt?”

  “No. Your fingers got cold.”

  “No, they didn’t.”

  “You know what.” I said turning back on my side so I could look at him. “I’m the one feeling them, not you. Your temperature dropped…twenty degrees at least. You went from warm and soothing to frostbite. Okay?”

  Nye got up and crossed the room. Then he paced back and forth in front of a fireplace.

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. Don’t leave this room.”

  “How long?”

  “How long what?”

  “How long do I have to be here?”

  “As long as it takes. I’ll be back.”

  * * * *

  Nye

  I stumbled out of the room and fell back against the wall. My hands came to my chin more out of habit then necessity. I breathed deeply and smelled her. The fragrance of magnolias. Why the hell did she have to smell like home?

  I had been born outside Pascagoula, Mississippi, around 1835 or 36. Heck, maybe I wasn’t born there, but that was the plantation I was raised on. I loved the spring and summer, when the magnolias were in bloom. Their fragrance wafted through the slave quarters, almost making them feel like the big house. So grand and sweet in their smell, the trees were an equalizer, something that was mine and couldn’t be taken away. No one could say who could or couldn’t smell their sweetness.

  At night when the humidity had my clothes stickin’ tight to my body, a breeze would drift in and give me a modicum of relief from the heat and relaxation from the fragrant magnolias.

  If a magnolia bloom got knocked down or if I was brave, I’d pick one to have under my pillow, so each night I could flip it and catch the scent again. I remember how Louise looked under the magnolia trees when we’d sneak out. The white blossoms circled her face; a few petals drifted down onto the red and brown dress she had been wearing that day.

  “Louise, I’m fixin’ to like to marry ya?” I said, tracing her cheek with my finger. “Poppa says he’d do the ceremony.”

  “Oh, Big George, I’ds love to.”

  Her smile won me over. I was still so afraid to kiss her. Her lips were a dark pink and her eyes almost hazel they were so light. I was afraid she’d say no. We’d grown up together and I’d been in love with her since I was about ten years old and masser brought her home.

  Our wedding was like all the others—unofficial in the eyes of everyone but God. She had snuck a broom from the big house to make it more special when we jumped it.

  My first night with a woman and I couldn’t have been more scared. But in the morning masser stole her and brought her to market. He threw a dozen women at me and told me I had to breed cause of my size, but I refused. My heart belonged to Louise and Louise only.

  I shook my head from the memory of Louise and wiped my hands on my jeans a dozen times trying to remove the smell of Kiri. Taking off across the foyer, I climbed the stairs two at a time.

  The six panel oak door stood before me, closed and foreboding. Raising my hand, which seemed to weigh fifty pounds, I knocked quickly then stood straight up, breathing in, afraid of the answer I’d receive.

  Lars opened the door and stared at me. Lars was added sometime in the seventeenth century from a Scandinavian province. He’d kept his name when he was sentenced.

  His long, butterscotch-colored hair was always quaffed in the way of a supermodel. His piercing, blue eyes reminded me of when I was stationed by the ocean. The color was like the sea right before a storm.

  Lars had made the sacrifice to become an other when he met Zarmina during a term in the Mideast. Zarmina was a beauty and, being twenty, an old maid in those days. She was running away from an arranged marriage to a much older man when he met her. Her eyes were a rich green and her hair was raven black, circling the sweetest face.

  Looking at me, Lars straightened his shoulders, flexing the muscles that were necessary for all who want to complete their sentence. Not that Lars could ever hope to complete his. He was standing in a robe that I assumed he hadn’t meant to put on. It was pink silk with roses adorning it and it barely covered the top of his thighs. Obviously Zarmina’s. If a wind blew through the door, Lars would no longer have any secrets from me.

  “Yes.”

  “Sorry,” I laughed. “I never knew how good you looked in pink.”

  “Your knock sounded urgent. It was the closest one to me.”

  “I’m sure. I need to ask you a question.”

  Zarmina appeared behind him, wearing a long, thick, black velvet robe.

  “I’ll give you a minute to swap,” I offered.

  Lars looked Zarmina up and down, then shook his head. “Nah, if that robe comes off again I won’t be out till next kill. Let’s go to the library.”

  Lars took Zarmina’s face in his hands and kissed her lightly on the lips. “Min kärlek Jag återkommer till er oförändrat i min hängivenhet.”

  I walked awkwardly with Lars, trying to avoid looking down and inadvertently seeing something I didn’t want to.

  Settling in the library, Lars grabbed a pillow and covered his lap so he could spread out on the leather sofa.

  “So what’s doin’?”

  I liked Lars. He was the only one besides Dilana that I talked to on a regular basis. Regular for a Frozen was more than twice a year.

  “I brought someone home.”

  “I know.”

  “I didn’t shoot her, but if she died I knew Dilana would be punished.”

  “You ever been around when someone with an other faced Gabriel’s wrath?”

  “Once; I couldn’t let Dilana suffer that. Hopefully I can get Kiri out of here before Gabriel comes by for his weekly visit.”

  “But that’s not why you came in search of me,” Lars said with a raised eyebrow.

  I sighed and rested my forearms on my thighs.

  “I was…checking her wound.”

  “So that’s what they’re calling it these days. ‘Checking her wound’.”

  I growled.

  “She said my fingers went from hot to cold.”

  “Seriously,” Lars said laughing and putting his feet on the floor. “You? Damn. I didn’t
think that was possible, but hey, there are worse things.”

  “I’ve only got maybe seven years left.”

  “I had three months, max.”

  “You’re fibbin’.”

  “Nope. Three months and I’d be sitting on a cloud in Valhalla, then she showed up. Hit me like a goddamn ton of bricks. Never saw it comin’.”

  “Three months?”

  “Look, I could have had three minutes and I’d still make the same choice I made that day.” Lars then looked me in the eyes. “When did they turn cold?”

  “When I touched her wound. And I mean her wound. It had already started to scar over.”

  “Guilt. Every time I touch…never mind. It’s guilt that turns you cold. You want to take the pain away from her. Especially since right now you can’t cut her pain in half. You know, if she was one of us it’da taken maybe one day of recovery.”

  “I won’t let that happen. Besides, what the heck do I care if she’s in pain?”

  “You tell me?” Lars looked around the library then spied the humidor sitting on a desk in the corner. Pulling himself up, he finally flashed his family jewels at me and I winced. “Sorry man.”

  He grabbed two Cohibas and a lighter.

  “You want?”

  “No. Never took to it.”

  “Oh come on, it takes the edge off.”

  “My mind is already running a mile a minute. I don’t need your help to jump the track.”

  “Your claustranima actin’ up?” Lars asked while he sucked in deep to light his cigar.

  “It’s an inanimate object. How could it act up?”

  “It couldn’t. But your little buddy…”

  Lars knew something.

  “With Zarmina…” I started to ask.

  “When Mina was visible, it could’ve been high noon with how bright it was.”

  “It didn’t act up.”

  “Oh, you are in trouble,” he laughed, seeing right through my lie. “I’ve been here…what…fifteen years? You set up this camp right?”

  “Yeah, I did with Clark then Stone. Stone got reassigned to Argentina right before you got here. Man, fifteen years we’ve been together? I think that’s a record for me.”

  “Never understood the man upstairs. That’s why I prefer livin’ here. And you do realize I’m livin’ now. I wasn’t before I met her…damn, what day is it?”