Blood Divine

by Greg Howard

  “Trevor?”

  Trevor’s eyes were cloudy, aware of the world around them but locked inside an unresponsive body. If Trevor was glad to see him, Cooper couldn’t tell. If the sight of Cooper disgusted him, he couldn’t tell that, either. Cooper stood there, gripping the side rail of the bed so tight his knuckles whitened while trying to compile the random words rolling around in his brain into complete sentences.

  Sorry. Such a piss poor excuse for a word. Would Trevor even understand what he was apologizing for? He likely had no memory of what happened that night at the football game. But Cooper needed Trevor to know so he could move past it. Once again it was all about him.

  He decided to start small. “Hey.” He caught a glimpse of his own reflection in Trevor’s glassy eyes. Clearing his throat, he gave it another shot. “I hope you don’t mind me coming here.

  The steady beep of a bedside monitor mapping Trevor’s vitals was the only audible response in the room.

  “I was in town and wanted to come by and see how you were doing.”

  If he could have sucked the words back into his mouth, he would have. How the hell did it look like the guy was doing?

  Cooper glanced down at Trevor’s exposed hand. That hand had touched him so many times when they were young, caressing every inch of his body. But when the rumors started, Trevor betrayed him. Denied their love and joined in the public ridicule aimed at the pathetic redheaded queer pining away for the quarterback.

  In a brazen move, Cooper touched the back of Trevor’s hand with the tip of his index finger. Just testing the waters. The pale hand trembled at the touch, and Cooper froze. Before the shock of the movement could register in Cooper’s brain, Trevor curled his brittle fingers and clamped down on Cooper’s hand like a vise. His heart thumped against his chest. Involuntary reflexes. He’d read about it. That’s all it could be.

  A jolt of hot energy ignited in Cooper’s core and rushed down to his fingertips, fusing their skin together. Panic washed over him as Trevor tightened his grip. It shouldn’t be possible. He shouldn’t be able to do that. Cooper reached for the call button hanging above the headboard, but Trevor applied more pressure. The force deep inside Cooper bubbled and pooled in the tips of his fingers. He clenched his jaw and fought to hold it at bay. Using his free hand, he tried to peel Trevor’s fingers off of him. He would not hurt this man again.

  Trevor’s eyes pinged from side to side like pinballs. Cooper gasped, and his whole body went numb, as if he had no control over its function. The room spun around him, and he closed his eyes, trying desperately to calm the erratic beating of his heart. Memories of that night played in his mind’s eye like a bizarre movie trailer. A series of images, one frame after another taunting him. His head throbbed, like his brain was locked inside a pressure cooker and would explode soon if he didn’t get away. His muscles seized, expelling everything boiling inside him out through his fingertips. Finally, Trevor’s grip eased, and the room stilled. Cooper opened his eyes.

  Trevor stared back at him with renewed clarity and life brimming in his eyes.

  Yanking his hand away, Cooper stumbled back. He had awakened something long dormant in Trevor, like their spirits had entangled into one. Trevor knew what Cooper did to him. The memories he’d just witnessed were not his own. He’d relived the events of that night through Trevor’s eyes. Saw what he saw. Felt what he felt. And Trevor didn’t have a trace of the anger or judgment Cooper had expected. Only regret. Trevor’s previously unreadable eyes danced with a new kinetic vigor, bright and full of life.

  Cooper leaned over the bed. “Trevor?”

  A gurgle of sound spilled from Trevor’s mouth. His moist eyes were fixed on Cooper’s. “I…”

  Cooper’s heart skipped a beat at the long forgotten sound of Trevor’s voice, now raspy and thick with the labor of speech. He lowered his ear to Trevor’s mouth. “What? What do you need?”

  A moment of silence passed, and Cooper thought he’d imagined it. Two strained and whispered words slipped from Trevor’s lips. “Loved. You.”

  Cooper straightened his spine and stared down at him, unable to process the simple words that hung in the air between them.

  Trevor’s lips twitched and struggled to part once more. Two new words came stronger—desperate and earnest. “Forgive. Me.”

  Cooper’s heart sank to the pit of his stomach, and his mouth went bone dry. After all the pain he’d caused this man, Trevor wanted his forgiveness. Those wet and glassy eyes reflected the forgone absolution of Cooper’s sins, something he’d never even considered possible.

  The nurse barreled through the door. “What happened? His heart rate spiked on the monitors.”

  “I… I don’t know,” Cooper stammered, easing backward to the door.

  Another blur of a nurse whizzed by him, over to Trevor’s side and picked up his hand. “Oh my God. His fingers are moving. His toes. Call Dr. Baker!”

  Cooper pulled opened the door and looked back at Trevor’s newly flushed face one last time. Trevor held his gaze, a single tear trailing down his cheek. If Cooper hadn’t known better, he would have sworn Trevor’s lips eased into the faintest of smiles.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  All the way back to the parking lot, Cooper’s steps were lighter than they’d been in years. He’d gotten what he came for and somehow jump-started Trevor’s broken body in the process. The crushing heaviness that had weighted his chest for a decade was gone. He was free.

  Rafe held his hands up, halting Cooper’s advance. “Whoa, whoa, dude. Take a beat before you hop on. You are pinging off the freakin’ Divinum charts. You’ll send us sailing into a ditch or something with all that juice flowing through you. What the hell happened in there?”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Cooper said, breathing without obstruction for what felt like the first time in his life. He paced back and forth in front of Rafe. He couldn’t stand still. “I’m good now. Let’s go.”

  “Seriously,” Rafe replied, putting a hand on Cooper’s shoulder. “Just calm down a minute before you get on the bike.”

  Odessa leaned against the seat of her Harley with her long, shapely legs crossed at the ankles. “Rafe’s right. Your power is brimming and reckless. It’s untamed. Triggered by your emotions. That is dangerous. Take a minute to get it in check.”

  Cooper stopped pacing and stood beside Rafe’s bike. He leaned forward with both hands on the seat and lowered his head, drawing in deep, calming breaths. He knew they were right, and brimming was as good a word as any to describe what he felt. His skin teemed with goose bumps, and his ears rang. His fingertips burned, and blood surged like hot lava in his veins. He was no longer afraid of his power, but he still needed to control the dark side of his nature. That would be the tricky part because it was stronger than he wanted to admit.

  He stood and shook his fingers, expelling the nervous energy. “I’m fine now. Really.” He looked over at Odessa. “Where are we going?”

  She eyed him with a healthy dose of suspicion and threw a lithe leg over the seat of her bike. “We are going to the clock tower. You know it?”

  Cooper took the helmet Rafe offered him and pulled it on. “Of course I know it. Everyone does. It’s at the Rice Museum on Front Street, just down the street from Phipps House. And what exactly did you do to Tony?” Cooper eyed her through the cocked open visor of his helmet. “He’d better be okay.”

  “He’ll be fine.” She stood and balanced the Harley between her legs “But he’s in no shape to alert Montgomery of our visit anytime soon.”

  Cooper shook his head, and he threw his leg over the seat of Rafe’s bike.

  Odessa shrugged. “And as long as he doesn’t turn, he’ll be allowed to live. Just don’t be too offended if he doesn’t remember you the next time you run into him.”

  Rafe stood between the two bikes, a goofy grin twisting his face. “Hold up. Hold up. Let me get this straight. There’s a museum about fucking rice?”

  Cooper snapped the ch
instrap of his helmet in place. “Not fucking rice, just rice. In the 1800s, Georgetown produced one-half of the total rice crop for the entire country. So yes, we have a museum about rice.”

  Rafe cocked an eyebrow, nodded, and then looked back at Odessa. “What of it, O?”

  “According to the day soldier, that’s where the changeling nest is located.” She slung her hair back and pulled on her helmet. “So that’s where we’re going.”

  Rafe slid his leg over the seat, inserting his bubbled ass between Cooper’s legs. “Let’s drop him off with Lex and then hit it.”

  Cooper planted his feet into the pedal rests and gripped Rafe’s waist. “I’m going with you.”

  Odessa looked his way, glaring beneath the visor of her helmet. “I don’t think that is a good idea. You’ll be safer back at the Phipps House with Lex. We don’t know how many creatures are in the nest. It could get ugly.”

  Cooper nodded and looked straight ahead. “Exactly why you need me. Don’t worry. I think I can handle myself now.” This would be as good a time as any to see if the mental block was really gone. The magic pooling in his fingers throbbed for release, yet he still silently cursed himself for leaving Betsy’s dagger on the table by the front door of Phipps House.

  Rafe shook his head. “I don’t think the Manheeg and Betsy would like it, O.”

  “The Manheeg put me in charge of this mission, Rafe. You let me worry about him. And I don’t answer to his Anakim bitch.” She looked back at Cooper and studied him a moment. Her unreadable eyes gave him pause. “You can come with us. But you stay right on Rafe’s ass.”

  Rafe shrugged and pulled his helmet over his thick head of hair. “I don’t think that will be a problem. He certainly knows where my ass is. Been staring at it all day.”

  Cooper eased his grip on Rafe’s hips. “Just because you have a dick doesn’t mean I’m into you, asshole. You’re not my type.”

  Rafe chuckled and kicked life into the bike. “I’m everyone’s type, Ginger.”

  The raw power of the Harley’s engine fusing with the heat coursing through his veins only intensified Cooper’s need for release. Anticipation and anxiety made for a savory stew of dark urges deep inside him. His newfound clarity of mind assured him the mental block was gone. The next time he used his power, he would know exactly what he was doing. He would hold nothing back.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  The street-rumbling wail of the Harleys shattered the sleepy charm of Georgetown’s historic business district. They passed tight rows of buildings dating back to the 1700s, which would have been forgotten by time if not for the presence of their gentrified new tenants. Over the decades, the locals had slowly abandoned the downtown area, leaving the city no choice but to take one last stab at survival and relevance by reinventing itself as a charming historic tourist stop on the way to the gaudy glitz of Myrtle Beach.

  They passed Harborwalk Books, a quirky gem of an independent bookstore that oozed local personality and charm. The front window displayed a collection of required reading on the infamous ghosts of Georgetown and a poster touting Miss Ida’s Ghost Tours. Apparently the bookseller was adept at playing up the local lore to lure in tourists.

  Diagonally across the street, the Strand Theater stood as a beacon of fond childhood memories for Cooper as well. Somewhere along the way, the Strand had been transformed from a movie theater into a community playhouse. Red block letters adorned the rusty marquee announcing the next production.

  Swamp Fox Players present

  A RAISIN IN THE SUN

  March 1-3

  It was a bold theatric choice for a small town that masked its deep-seated racism in a cloak of Southern charm. Like referring to the Civil War as The War of Northern Aggression, or The Recent Unpleasantness.

  Rafe and Odessa guided the bikes into two empty parking spots directly in front of the clock tower of the Rice Museum and killed the engines simultaneously. A few tourists stopped and gawked at Cooper’s odd-looking companions to the very limit of Southern hospitality. He had to admit that his Divinum friends could not have looked more out of place if they tried. Odessa turned the most heads when she hopped off her bike and stretched her legs in those tight leather pants, which clung to her body like a second skin.

  Before Cooper and Rafe had a chance to dismount, a police cruiser pulled into the empty space beside them. Randy hopped out of the driver’s side and rounded the front of the car, looking like sex on a stick in his neatly pressed uniform. Cooper looked away. Dammit. He didn’t need that kind of distraction, and he still felt like a grade-A asshole for giving Randy the cold shoulder earlier. He removed his helmet, peeled himself from the back of Rafe’s body, and slid off the bike. Randy glowered at Rafe, who could not have been more oblivious to the open show of disdain.

  Rafe pulled off his helmet and flashed Randy a mischievous grin. “Officer Thor! Nice to see you again, dude.”

  Cooper knocked Rafe’s arm with the back of his hand and shot him a reprimanding glare.

  Rafe held up his hands. “What? He looks like Thor.” He dismounted and hustled over to an unamused Odessa, Randy’s contemptuous glare following him every step of the way. He looked like he wanted to bash the back of Rafe’s cocky head in. If Cooper didn’t know better, he’d think Randy was jealous. But he knew better.

  Cooper walked over to Randy with the intention of being direct but cordial. He struggled to keep his internal swamp of murky feelings in check. He needed to stay focused. “What are you doing here? I’m fine. Really.” Not bad. He’d even managed to sound a tad annoyed, a nice touch.

  Randy cocked his head at Cooper. “I saw you turning onto Front Street. Thought you were heading back to Phipps House, so I followed. Surprised to see you pull up here. What’s going on, Cooper? Surely your friends are not that interested in the history of Georgetown’s rice culture.”

  It was a fair question. His whole life, Cooper had never once set foot inside the Rice Museum. Most locals hadn’t, either. Not unless they were on an elementary school field trip. Cooper looked over to Odessa for help. She offered none, leaning against the brick wall of the clock tower with her arms crossed. She wasn’t tapping the toe of her boot on the sidewalk, but she might as well have been. She obviously didn’t like interruptions or detours derailing her plans. Cooper knew she couldn’t care less what he told Randy, as long as he got rid of him.

  He turned his attention back to Randy. “It’s a long—”

  “Doesn’t matter,” Randy said, cutting him off. “I followed you because I need to talk to you. About… all of this… shit.”

  Cooper sat his helmet on the seat of the bike and sighed. “All of what shit, Randy? You mean like how I led you into that clusterfuck last night that almost got you killed? How I opened your eyes to things no one should ever have to face? Or is it how I made an idiotic move based on a pathetic childhood crush and tried to kiss you? All that shit?”

  Randy’s cheeks reddened, and he clenched his jaw. “Well. When you sum it all up like that, it does seem to beg for a follow-up discussion, don’t you think?”

  The sarcasm in his tone stung, though Cooper knew he deserved it. He took a deep breath and absently ran his hand over his hair. “Look. I’m sorry. You’re right. We probably should talk. It’s just not a good time right now.”

  Randy glanced over his shoulder at Odessa who gave away nothing with her eyes. He then eyed Rafe with a healthy dose of mistrust. “Just tell me what the hell you’re doing here, Coop.”

  When he didn’t immediately answer, Randy stepped so close to him that his minty breath chilled Cooper’s lips. He breathed in Randy’s woodsy scent and exhaled it in smoky breaths of his own, his brain instantly turning to mush. Goddamn that cologne. Taking Randy by the arm, he led him down the sidewalk, out of earshot of Odessa and Rafe.

  “Listen. It’s just something we have to do, okay? For me, for Lillie Mae, hell, maybe even for you and the rest of the world for all I know. Alexander. The guy from last
night. He’s up to some really bad shit and has to be stopped.”

  Randy shook his head defiantly. “Coop, I don’t care if they’re cooking meth out there at Warfield. I’m not letting you get anywhere near those psycho-fag vamps again.”

  The slur slapped Cooper hard across the face, causing him to physically flinch. Randy noticed.

  “Dammit. I’m sorry, Coop,” he said, his tone and eyes softening. “I didn’t mean—”

  Cooper shot his hand up, silencing Randy cold. They’d never discussed the drunken kiss on the beach the night of his brother’s funeral or how long that kiss had lingered before Randy put a stop to it.

  Cooper scratched the back of his head and raised his index finger in the air at Rafe and Odessa, silently requesting another minute before turning back to Randy. “It’s fine. Nothing I haven’t heard before. Now, I really need to go.”

  He turned and joined Odessa and Rafe near the front entrance of the Rice Museum. A firm hand on his shoulder spun him around, and he came face to face with Randy again.

  “Red, listen—”

  “What?” Cooper was exasperated and tired of being on a confusing emotional rollercoaster ride with the guy.

  The corner of Randy’s mouth twitched. “Is it dangerous? What you’re doing?”

  Cooper stared at him and sighed. “Couldn’t be any more dangerous than living an honest life. I’m so brave that way, remember?” He didn’t know why he said it. Didn’t know why he poured on the retaliatory sarcasm. But, damn it felt good. The sting of betrayal in Randy’s eyes confirmed Cooper had made his point. All too well.

  Rafe stepped between them, posturing his muscular build and swagger to match Randy’s. It was a full-on man-off. Cooper half expected them to whip out their dicks and engage in an actual pissing contest right there on the sidewalks of Georgetown.

  Rafe’s face and his tone hardened. “We’ve got him.”

  The scowl on Randy’s face was no joke either. “You know what douche dick? I’ve got him. Whatever shit you’re about to drag him into, I’m coming with you.”