by Kody Boye
“And you believe this excuse enough?” Elliot shook his head. “You are but an unfortunate casualty in all this. My son, however, has risked the safety of our entire people. What do you have to say to that?”
“There’s another one out there.”
“So he says.”
“It’s true! What reason would Guy have to kill all those people?”
“To feed,” Elliot said.
“Sir,” I said, unable to hide my smile as I leaned forward. “Trust me when I say this: Guy wouldn’t have any trouble feeding in a city like Austin. I mean, come on—he’s gay. The men practically couldn’t keep their hands off him.”
Elliot was not amused. That much was for certain. “Now,” he said, as if disregarding everything that had just transpired. “There’s the matter of what to do with you.”
I shrunk at the man’s words. This was what I’d been waiting for. Now I was going to hear my fate.
“Normally,” Elliot said, but this time did not lean forward, instead taking note of me as if I were some ancient curiosity by placing a thumb to his chin, “we would not even consider letting humans in, let alone someone who’s been so intimate with the knowledge of our kind. However...” This he stressed by removing his hand from his chin, then settling his hand on his knee. “Under the current circumstances, there’s no reasonable way we could allow you out into the world. The mind is mighty, but the things they give you can be worse.”
“Sir?” I frowned.
“Drugs, Jason—I’m talking about drugs. Drugs that affect your mind and will make you answer any question truthfully if it’s injected into your bloodstream. You wouldn’t be able to lie if such a thing were to happen.”
Which meant… what? That I was in the left field, about to hit a home run?
“You will remain here for the time being, until it is determined whether or not anything can be done for you.”
“Sir,” I said. “What about…”
“What about… what?” Elliot frowned.
He seemed to know the answer before I’d even said it—because his eyes darkened and his lip curled into a disapproving smile—so when I said, “Guy,” short and simple, Elliot Winters merely sighed.
“What about him, Jason?”
“I know what you’re asking him to do. It isn’t right.”
“My son will do what is right for his people, whether he wants to or not.”
“It’s not fair!”
“To what? Keep our bloodline from dying out?”
“It’s not even your bloodline anymore! It’s a deviation. It’ll be gone in a hundred years.”
“Silence!” Elliot barked.
“Elliot,” Adameo said from the other side of the room.
“It figures my son would bring home a man as stubborn as he is,” Elliot said, the smirk on his face twisted in its amusement. “Do you know my son’s past, Jason? How promiscuous he was? How many men he’s slept with?”
“I don’t care.”
“Why? Because he’s not human, because you’re open-minded… because you have feelings for him?”
A knot tightened in my stomach. He waited me to respond with that same leering gaze and sinister grin, as if tempting an answer beneath the weight of his judgment. I imagine he expected me not to respond, otherwise he wouldn’t have been trying to goad feelings out of me. I wouldn’t fall for that game. I wasn’t going to let some manipulative asshole tell me what to think or feel.
“Yeah,” I said, the defiance in my voice far more than I’d intended. “I have feelings for him.”
Elliot chuffed. “Good luck,” he said. “Amadeo—show our guest the door, please. And take him back to my son’s room. I don’t want the poor boy getting lost on my account.”
Guy answered the door in his sweats. Hair askew from sleep, eyes still cloudy, he exchanged only a brief conversation with Amadeo before he closed the door and followed me into the living room.
“I guess that didn’t go well,” Guy said, setting down beside me.
I related what I could without revealing the personal details Amadeo had given me, unsure whether I should keep my big mouth shut. Throughout, Guy said nothing, but did offer a hand when I found myself shaking from rage.
When it came down to the final part of the story, I paused before finishing and looked him in the eyes.
“What’d you tell him?” Guy asked, his grip reassuring, but false in its strength against mine.
“I told him I had feelings for you,” I said. “Because I do. A lot.”
Guy didn’t immediately respond. “I… don’t know what to say.”
I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and pressed my body against his, cradling my head within the curve of his neck and listening to the sound of his breathing. His hands instinctively found their place on my back and held me in turn.
“You mean a lot to me,” I said, drawing away so that I could look at him. “You know that, right?”
“You mean a lot to me too,” Guy said.
I pressed my lips to his and sighed as my hands fell to his ribcage.
The contact was brief—short seconds, probably no more than a minute, but the whole time I felt an enormous weight lifting from my shoulders.
“Come on,” Guy said, lifting me into his arms and starting toward the bedroom. “It’s been a long day.”
He didn’t need to say any more.
My position within the household was made apparent the following morning, when I was not tasked to work with the other Kaldr. Guy’s opinion on the matter muted, his eyes set on things other than me, he sipped his coffee while I tentatively poked at my sausage and eggs, his gaze occasionally straying to Amadeo when he would make an appearance within the room.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asked, looking from me, then to Guy.
I shook my head. Guy stood and rounded the counter as he finished off his coffee to set it in the sink. “I’ll be back,” he said.
I didn’t bother to ask where he was going. After disappearing out the threshold that led into the living room, and which would eventually take him to his parents’ quarters, I felt no need to pressure him for an answer, especially after what happened last night.
“Is everything well?” Amadeo asked.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I sighed. “Everything’s fine. I’m just worried. That’s all.”
“About what?”
“Me tying him here.”
“If he didn’t wish to be here, Jason, he wouldn’t have brought you here.”
“I know.”
“So don’t lay blame on yourself. Things will come to fruition, whichever they may be.”
I considered the plate of half-eaten food before me and pushed it forward. “You want this?” I asked.
“No thank you,” Amadeo said.
“I haven’t seen you eat anything.”
“That’s because the Kaldr do not have to eat.” His lips perked into a smile. “We are creatures of the flesh. There’s no need for us to consume solids when we feed on the heat of others.”
It made sense. Guy’s aversion to eating had only became apparent once we’d entered the Elliot household. Before, he’d eaten just as I had. Now, I’d yet to see him touch anything.
“But you can eat,” I said.
“Oh, of course. It is more a novelty than anything, though.”
I sipped my soda and watched Amadeo carefully. He’d chosen to dress casual this morning, as he had when I’d met him the previous day—in long cargo shorts and an undershirt whose armholes stretched down to reveal his defined ribcage. I’d tried to gauge his age since we arrived, but as of yet couldn’t. Guy’s father looked only slightly older than his son—Amadeo I couldn’t place at all.
While his age didn’t necessarily matter, given his immortality, it only served to remind me of Guy’s aversion to the subject.
“Sir,” I said, peaking his interest when he blinked and focused his eyes on me. “Can I ask something? About Guy?”
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“Feel free.”
“He’s never told me how old he really was. He… claimed to be thirty, but… well… with you being immortal and all—”
“My son was freshly turned, if that’s what you’re asking. He is as old as he claims in both human and Kaldr terms.”
“So he wasn’t lying,” I said.
Amadeo shook his head. “Guy’s reputation may lie within his past actions, but he cannot be blamed for them. He was young—raised by Kaldr the moment he was born. He was educated here, cared for here, taught everything he knows here—including how to drive. His passions for men were only bridled when he began sleeping with the other Kaldr, which drove his father completely crazy.”
“Because of his legacy?”
“Because of his antics. Age and stubbornness has quelled much of his behavior, but he still exhibits the frustration from being trapped here for so long.”
“Do you blame him?”
“No. I don’t. Which is why I pushed Elliot to allow him broader freedom.”
“Are you the one who let him leave?”
The man didn’t reply. Normally, his silence would’ve spoken for itself, but in a case like this, it could have meant all manner of things.
“To answer your question,” Amadeo said. “It is no secret that I supplied Guy with the necessary tools to live on his own. I gave him the money, the resources, the falsified degree in business marketing he would’ve received at a standardized institution—I even drove him to Austin on the pretense that we were going in for supplies.”
“So you left him there.”
Amadeo nodded. “Yes, Jason. I did.”
I was tempted to ask how Guy’s father had felt about that—to the point where the question lurked on my lips like some great swarm of moths to be breathed from the devil’s mouth—but I stopped when I realized I already knew. The disparaging comments made even upon our arrival were enough to ensure that notion.
Idly, I sipped my drink while trying to think of what to say next. Amadeo had not proven to be much of a talker, only going so far as to initiate conversation when he felt necessary.
My eyes strayed past him—to the expanse of windows looking out at the work being done on the ranch.
“What all is done here?” I asked.
“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Amadeo said, turning to view the outside world. “We plant our own food, raise our own meat, work water from the surrounding wells—the only thing we don’t harvest is power, and our clothing comes from occasional runs to the larger towns and cities.”
“How many people are there?”
“Of the Kaldr clan?” Amadeo asked. “Only fifty. Our numbers have diminished over time.”
Thus the need for procreation.
“That isn’t to say we aren’t strong,” the man continued. “We are masters of disguise. We hide in plain sight, fake appearances, sway those who question with charm or lust. The only real problem we’ve had has been with people leaving, and even then that hasn’t resulted in any—”
“Who’s the person killing people in Austin?”
Amadeo paused. His eyes—cast to the other Kaldr in the field—turned to examine me with a sense of confusion and distress. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“The Kaldr. Who’s doing it?”
“I’m not sure I—”
“It’s not Guy, Amadeo. I’m not sure what Mr. Winters has been telling you, but… there was no reason for him to hurt anyone. Not when he was so beautiful and happy with his freedom.”
“You’re suggesting someone else killed those people?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do you honestly believe it was Guy?”
He said nothing. A disturbance from the room above quelled any voice that may have come next, but after the floorboards stopped creaking and there came no sound of footsteps down the stairs, he centered his dark, steely gaze on me—boring into my soul with an intensity not made from anger, but belief. “No. I don’t.”
I didn’t push the subject. I finished the drink and rose to locate a waste disposal, but was stopped by Amadeo when he rounded the counter and wrapped his hand around the can.
“Don’t speak of this to anyone,” he said.
“I—”
He pried the can from my hand with force previously unknown to me. His smile, as charming as it happened to be, spelled wicked in its intention. “It’s a nice day today,” he said. “Why don’t you go find Guy? He’ll be working in the fields. Just don’t stay out too long—you wouldn’t want to get burnt.”
What necessity clothing held for the Kaldr during great bouts of heat I couldn’t be sure. Given their distinct need to consume the heat of others in order to sustain themselves, it seemed unusual to limit one’s exposure to the sun when it was out clean and clear, unmarred by clouds that so rarely drifted over the Texas horizon. But there they were—tending the fields, working the animals, all with clothes covering their bodies. The only one without his shirt was Guy—who, in comparison to the shorter, stockier men, appeared like a god among all Kaldr.
As one, their attention was drawn as I descended the stairs. Guy’s, too, had risen, but his was the only gaze that remained in the moments thereafter.
Without much thought, I made my way along the path toward the rows of gardens.
“Hey,” I said as I approached, taking note of his blistered palms and the dirt etched across his chest and face.
“Hey,” he replied. “Everything all right?”
“Can I talk to you for a minute?”
Guy shrugged and slung his hoe over his shoulder before following me along my undetermined route.
“Amadeo wasn’t aware of what was going on in Austin,” I said, sliding my hands into my pockets.
“What do you mean?” Guy asked.
“He… well… he made it seem like he thought you were the one who’d done it.”
“That’s just my father’s reasoning’s getting to him,” he said. “Papa’s the peacekeeper. He doesn’t like conflict, and whenever it happens, he tries to settle it without trouble. My father… he’s not like that. At all.”
“I could tell,” I chuckled.
Guy came to a halt, pursed his lips, then closed his eyes, his nostrils flaring in a great exhale that lowered his broad chest.
“Something’s going on here, isn’t there?”
“I don’t know. Even if there was, I’d have no idea. I’ve been gone for five years.”
“And you didn’t have any contact during that time?”
“No. We didn’t.” Guy turned, adjusting the hoe against his shoulder. The fleshy hue of his skin was unusual, considering I’d seen him as fair up until this point, but I didn’t dwell on it. Getting shellshocked now, after everything I’d been through, would’ve been stupid and pointless. “Don’t worry about it right now, Jason. Seriously. There’s nothing either of us can do. What happens happens.”
“I know.”
“Go inside. It’s too hot for you out here. I’m worried that you haven’t recovered.”
“Have you fed?”
“What?”
“I said—”
Guy shook his head. “Don’t worry about it. Go. Inside.”
He started to walk off, his attention set toward the section of the field he’d been working on, but I stopped him before he could leave my grasp.
Leaning forward, I arched myself up on the tips of my toes and kissed his cheek.
His smile gave me some semblance of assurance, despite the mystery surrounding it all.
The day passed slowly—largely from the outstanding grief exhibited in my restless actions. Still overwhelmed from the events of the past few days and feeling under the weather from the heatstroke, I kept to Guy’s quarters and entertained himself with what few necessities he had, which weren’t many considering his position here. Television stations were nonexistent and what few movies he owned had to be played on an outdated player. His collection of books, however, was impressive—to
the point where I spent much of the time revisiting old habits of browsing encyclopedias for random and oftentimes useless information.
Given my bookworm tendencies, I was surprised I was able to put everything back in the order I had pulled it out.
Before I knew it, darkness swamped the outside world—startling in its ability to extinguish a fire and turn it into little more than smoke.
For a while, I simply remained inside—sipping water, occasionally munching on chips, and waiting to see if anything would happen.
When Guy didn’t come in an hour after dark, my worries got the best of me and I left the room.
The porch was dark. Save for a pair of sconces posed by the double doors, little could be seen of anything beyond the stairs except the trodden dirt path, thus casting the far distance into absolute blackness. My eyes instantly centered on the area where normally the fields would have been, but even they were invisible.
I took consideration of my surroundings.
From the fields, to the steps, to the areas illuminated by the lights—even the porch.
There was no one here.
The sensation that I was being watched lingered like a gun on the back of my head.
I never used to be uneasy when I was alone at night. Truth of the matter was, most of those ‘bad feelings’ I’d heard my friends talk about had usually been the result of overt paranoia or drug-induced jitters. But that night the man broke into the house—that had changed everything.
I reached back, still focused on the darkness, and grabbed the doorknob.
The door was locked.
I hadn’t bothered to check before I’d left the house.
“Shit,” I whispered.
The feral growl that answered coincided with a pair of yellow eyes appearing and then reflecting the light of the wall sconces back at me.
I didn’t move. I didn’t even breathe, which probably didn’t help my thinking much, but I could only concentrate on the thing’s eyes as I remembered what I’d always been taught as a child. The natural inclination to run was strong. Dogs were predators though, and when prey took flight, they gave chase.
I looked around for something I could use to defend myself.
