by Patti Larsen
The gathered Brights don't know I'm there, not yet, another indication they aren't like Vander. I'm pushing my way through them and they barely react, though I hear a growing murmur from them when they realize I'm in their midst. By then it's too late, the dog and I are in the middle of the crowd, a clearing where three Brights hold my friend, his blood glowing on his face where they've struck him, but his face as composed and beautiful as ever.
The crowd falls back from me, gasping, horrified. I've managed to frighten them, the masses at least, if not their leader. The dog drops to his haunches at my side, showing no signs of fear. There's that much, at least. I just hope he's not acting, though once the idea of an animal like him being able to dissemble would have made me laugh. But this is the dog and I believe him capable of anything.
A tall young man in a cape and what looks like a tuxedo glares at me from where he stands with Vander. “Invader,” he hisses, raising his arms under the cloak, hands crooked toward me, fingers curled into claws. “You will be devoured! I will suck your blood dry and cast your bones to the earth!”
It takes a great effort not to laugh, even though they have me surrounded in what should be a frightening situation. A tickle of amusement punctures my calm. Who does he think he is? And are those fake fangs in his mouth?
“Why did you attack us?” My eyes flicker to Vander's. He doesn't act or respond, though his body seems relaxed, at ease. Why isn't he fighting his way free?
“You defiled the sacred site.” The leader doesn't speak. It's a voice from behind me. I don't bother to turn and see the boy who spoke.
“Sacred site?” Again my gaze finds Vander. “What site?”
“You ate the holy food.” A girl chokes out a sob.
Holy... the calm ripples as I feel unutterable sadness. “The chocolate.” Vander nods, the barest movement even as my heart crumples for them. Sad eyes, more grief than I've ever seen, stare at me, not with anger, but with the tearing loss of something they worship gone from them forever.
“You've destroyed everything.” The leader shakes back his cape, blonde hair almost a match for Vander's falling over his dark eyes, sharp, long nose nearly quivering in rage. I find it hard to take him seriously, not like I take the gathered Brights and their longing for what was seriously.
No wonder Vander isn't fighting. And why I no longer wish to fight, either. They didn't attack us to harm us, but to protect their sacred ground. How these children turned two vending machines and a train station into a holy place is beyond me, but my guilt is as powerful as my grief.
“We didn't know.” No excuse. I see it in their sad faces, their slumped and defeated postures. I don't fear for our lives any longer. Our deaths aren't what these children seek. And yet I still feel the need to beg their forgiveness. “Please, we didn't. We never would have defiled your site if we'd known.”
The leader hisses, baring his fake vampire teeth. Him, on the other hand... he has some kind of hold over them, that much is obvious, though I wonder now if he's as innocent in this misled life they live as the rest of the Brights. “The punishment is death!”
And yet no one moves to harm us, as I knew they wouldn't. If anything, they seem ashamed. Of what?
“Can we not make amends somehow?” I turn away from him, to the others, spinning in a slow circle so they see my face, my echoing loss, sharing in theirs.
“Undo what you've done?” The leader scoffs in his Hollywood voice. “You stand before me, Ivan the Terrible, and expect to grovel for your life with such a weak and pathetic offer?” His people sway. What binds them to him that he can make them go against their conscience?
Vander's tongue snakes out, licks the glowing blood from his lip, eyes never leaving mine.
The blood. He takes iron supplements, has his entire life, so his need for blood is controlled. Has that made him stronger than normal Brights? Or is there more to it?
I face down the campy big screen vampire Ivan portrays and shake my head.
“I didn't see me groveling.”
His forehead creases. “Come to me.” One hand lifts, sways before him, eyes locked on mine. For a brief instant, I feel a tug at my mind, as though he's able to control my thoughts with his. But he's not powerful enough to break through my calm. Either that or just not very good at it.
I'll have to remember to ask Vander about it once we've escaped. Such a skill might come in handy later, if he's able to duplicate it with more strength.
“Let my friend go,” I say instead of caving to his weak parlor trick, “and we'll do what we can to repair the damage.” But the damage is done. The candy is gone, eaten, the cases of the machines broken, contents devoured.
Ivan seems startled his little power doesn't affect me. “Seize her!” He waves grandly at his people. “I will ingest her blood and become stronger. Through me, we will all be stronger!”
Is that it? Is he somehow keeping the blood for himself? I look around again at the Brights. Does he glow more than they do? It seems so. And their weakness... they are reduced, bodies frail, hunched. A lifetime without enough blood to fulfill their potential might create the Brights I see before me.
“Part of your religion, I take it.” I sigh, rubbing my face with my hands, sadness transferring from my transgression to Ivan's. “The rest of you aren't allowed to feed.”
They groan as one, and I have my answer.
“It's a sin.” The same girl speaks, in a whisper this time. “The great book says so.”
“Only our master can feed.” A boy beside her weeps shining tears. “His strength is our strength.”
Ivan produces something from beneath his cape, shows it off with a flourish, flashing it over his head. But it's not a book, the pages are too big, the width too thin.
“Heed the great words of the Lord of Darkness.” As he lowers it again, I see a drawing on the cover, a large title. I've seen such material before. Not a religious tome after all.
A comic book.
He flips to the first page. “The Lord and Master drinks of the flesh while his minions grow strong in the feeding.”
Pictures take life inside, lit by his glow. The creation of someone's imagination long ago, transformed by Brights into a cult bible.
Vander's cheek is suddenly wet, a single tear trickling down his face and I'm almost startled when he finally speaks.
“Brothers and sisters,” he says in his smooth and polished voice, “you suffer for nothing.”
Ivan spins, slaps my friend across the mouth. “Silence, evil one. Your blood I will savor most of all.”
Enough. I can no longer take this farce, this comedy of horror, torn from the pages of a cartoon. “Release him now.” I allow my anger to show at last. “I'm taking my friend with me. What you do, Ivan, what you've done, I do not condone. But nor will I fight you if you let us go.”
Vander shakes his head, grief on his face and I know what he's thinking, that he needs to save them if he can. But it's not our job, our responsibility, and I need to get him out of there.
Ivan steps between us, the book shoved in my face. “Heed the holy words,” he snarls, fake teeth bobbing up and down in his mouth as he speaks. “Or they will destroy you.”
The tingle is rapid and unexpected, and before I can stop myself I'm reaching out to touch his face with my hand. I jerk away immediately, the horror of what I've done rising inside me, prepared for the melting, the screaming, the puddle of what he once was.
For a second nothing happens and my gut unclenches. Ivan stares at me, mouth slack, the false vampire teeth falling to bounce on the ground before him, a long string of saliva dangling from his bottom lip. It's not until his glow begins to fade I understand.
That the others understand.
Within moments he is whole and normal, his skin as pink as Beckett's, not a trace of the Bright he'd been remaining.
Healed. Human.
Ivan's screaming tells me he's unhappy with this turn of events even as I realize I'm capable of much
more than I ever imagined.
***
Chapter Eighteen
The stampede starts almost immediately as the crowd scatters, terrified Brights running from me as much as if I'd killed their leader after all. Ivan just stands there, staring at me, mouth hanging open now that his shriek of horror has faded into the night. He moves at last to reach for me, touch my hand.
“What have you done to me?” Gone is the make-believe voice, the affectation of a vampire he must have concocted from a variety of pop-culture icons. Instead he is just a young man, a little thin, with a nose too long for his face and a new twitch in his right knee I'm sure comes from stress.
Vander gently moves the young man back. “She's given you hope.”
Ivan shakes his head, looks down at himself. “Where has it gone?”
Vander has his hands on me, is pulling me backward even as Ivan's hands begin to shake, his face collapsing into grief.
“What have you done?” His scream carries as he turns and stumbles to his knees.
“Trio.” Vander's voice is low, soft but urgent. “We have to go. Now.”
I nod, my sick fascination with Ivan's collapse broken. As I turn, I understand my friend's tone.
Not all of the Brights fled. Some remain, a small crowd of their own. The move as one, coming toward me, hands outstretched.
“Heal me.” The girl's hands are small and weak as she clings to me.
“Me too,” the boy beside her continues to weep.
“Heal us,” they grasp at me, at Vander, pulling us back with their sheer weight.
I don't want to hurt them, but they won't let me go.
The dog barks, someone calls my name. I look up, see Beckett coming for me, shoving Brights aside. He grasps my hand, pulls me through, Vander with me. The moment we break out behind them, the Brights moan and turn to follow.
“Run.” Vander's hiss of warning is unnecessary.
We do, as fast as we can, the Brights following at a slower pace as if tranced. I want to turn, to try to help them, but there are too many, so many, I know I can never give them what they want. I ignore Chime's screams for Ande, the fact Beckett and Vander pause to block the entrance to the station with one of the vending machines. It's hard to focus, to think with what I've done still so fresh in my mind.
I find myself on the train, the boiler chugging overhead, wheels turning as the Brights approach from around the building in a thin line to gather at the platform, calling for me, sobbing, trying to board only to have Brick and Beckett push them back.
My face is wet, my chest and throat tight as Vander wraps his arms around me and holds me to his chest. I'm grateful for the moment of comfort.
Until someone grabs my arm, pulls me around. Chime stares at me, a mix of anger and terror on her face.
“How did you do that?” Brick hovers behind her, staring openly. He knows what I can do, that I can cause the Sick, yet clearly hasn't told Chime. I would find that interesting at any other time.
“Leave her alone.” Beckett shoves Chime aside.
His interference seems to set her off. “I will not leave her alone!” Her screams pierce my eardrums, make my head hurt. “This is all her fault! We all could have died going back for him, and for what? So she could prove she's a freak?” Chime is in my face though doesn't touch me. Fears to touch me, I can tell. “What the hell did you do to him?”
“Nothing,” I say. “I just touched him.”
“Nothing.” Chime falls back, shaking, swallowing hard. “Tell me, Trio, why do the Crawlers want you so much?”
This is it. The truth will come out. And she'll kick us from the train out of fear. Brick still stares, only now he's scowling at Chime, not me.
“The next time you put us at risk,” Chime snarls, “you won't be getting back on this train.” She looks up, meets Vander's eyes. “Your little friends, either.”
I watch her stalk away, trembling a little, the calm gone. Instead my heart aches for the poor lost kids in that terrible town, lied to and damaged by a comic book story.
Beckett guides me toward the sleeping car, over the gap, through the door. It's probably just as well as I feel in a daze, wandering useless and lost. I crumple when he pulls on my hand, sit and accept a bowl of food I don't taste, water that does nothing to wash away the ashes of regret in my mouth.
The moment I'm done I rise and leave them, retreat to the car with the open door, sit and look out into the night with the dog's head in my lap and try not to think.
His glow betrays his arrival. Vander sits next to me, the dog between us.
“Did you know you could?” His voice is subdued, but level and steady. As though he's not thinking what I know he's thinking. What I'm dreading he's about to ask of me.
I shrug instead of letting him know of my fear. “I healed your brother,” I say, thinking of Gault. “But it was just his body. Not the Sick or the consequences.”
Vander frowns a little. “His body returned to normal before it dissolved.” His unhappy expression fades as he shakes his head. “I should have considered this was part of your ability.”
The pain in my chest from the grief and guilt grows in power as Vander turns to me, reaching out to take my hand. He doesn't have to say it after all. There are no questions between us, only the knowledge of what I've done in the past. Still. “I don't know if it will work.” Fear it won't. The tingle won't come, no matter how I beg. For him, for my guilt.
Vander nods without pleading, smiles at me as though what he's after doesn't really matter to him. “But you'll try. And I'm grateful for that, Trio.”
I call again for the tingle, plead for it to come as I grasp my friend's glowing hand over the back of the sprawled golden lab, gasping tears as nothing comes, nothing happens.
He pulls away at last, anger on his face. I don't blame him for hating me. But when he speaks, it's not me his fury is aimed toward.
“I’m tired of feeling like someone's screwing with us.” He stares out into the darkness, glow pulsing in time with his anger.
Miserable, I bow my head. “Why a town full of Brights?” It strikes me odd. “Why a whole town, Vander?”
Like he has any more answers than I do. Then again, maybe he does.
“It's almost as if this is all one big experiment.” He turns to look at me, transparent blue eyes full of frustration. “One thing's for certain—we can't survive like this. Whatever caused this, whoever if that's the case, we must find a way to make things right.”
I bob a nod, still crying, letting the tears fall to my lap without bothering to wipe them away. Vander leans close, kisses my cheek gently.
“Thank you, my friend,” he says before rising and leaving me.
I'm glad he's gone. I can't bear to have my failure to help him next to me any longer.
***
Chapter Nineteen
The sun wakes me, warmth on my face and hands a welcome sensation. I sit up, the dog moaning beside me, yawning and stretching his large body before shaking with vigor. I hug him to me, feeling his body press close as he leans into the embrace, chin on my shoulder, panting softly in my ear.
“Thanks for staying with me.” I whisper it out loud, not really meaning to. He chuffs softly in response, tongue finding my cheek.
Time to face the others, though I don't want to, wish I didn't have to. I don't know how to prepare for further stares, whispers. Going back to being treated like an outsider but worse, a freak... my shoulders are heavy with unhappiness as I cross to the sliding door and hop the gap to the next car. The dog leans into my legs, a steady and constant presence. He has to know what I'm feeling, to understand. To be far more intelligent than an ordinary dog.
“I wish you could talk,” I say just before we cross to the sleeping car.
He barks once and I find myself smiling.
Right. He can. I just don't understand him yet.
I feel the train slow as the second door slides shut behind me, the cargo car behind, and turn
to see Socrates talking with Beckett near where our friends are camped. It's hard to join them, but no one says anything or acts like it's my fault Vander is still a Bright, least of all him. I'm not sure if that makes it worse or not.
“Ande's stopping the train,” Socrates tells me. “Says it's not used to going so far, so fast. He has maintenance he has to perform or we'll be out of a ride soon.” Socrates grins. “Silt in the water we're using or something. The new system he's rigged can't handle all the dirt.”
I'm sure Chime is thrilled about the imposed stop. She glares at me from where she sits with Brick, practically in his lap, one of his arms casually around her waist like he owns her. I have no doubt he thinks he does and if she's prepared to argue the point, I'd be surprised.
They make me sick.
Ignoring her will be easier than accepting the truth my friends aren't judging me yet. Poppy hugs me, kisses me without a word, before handing me some breakfast, a can of peaches. I smell the sugar immediately and my stomach growls in answer even as I fight off irritation. They should judge me, shouldn't they? I failed to do for Vander what I managed to for Ivan, a total stranger.
There's something very wrong with me my friends aren't seeing and I'm not sure I'm willing to push the matter even though my conscience can barely stand their friendship. Speaking up means they might leave me after all, might finally understand how horrible I am. And I can't bear to be alone.
By the time the can is empty, the dog turning his nose up at a slice of preserved fruit in favor of a slab of pressed ham, the train hisses to a halt and my mulling in self-pity is over. Amazing how a full stomach and some harsh internal shaking can change everything. I'm doing what I can, with the slim knowledge I have. I refuse to give up on the fact I may yet help Vander, help them all, somehow.
It's something to cling to at least. It allows me to sigh out the last of my tension and be present with my friends when they rise to go outside for a look around.
After a very quick survey of the landscape, the mountains now behind us, crossed over in the night, foothills stretching out below to a wide plain as we enter the Midwest, the crew hops down to stretch their legs and explore a little. I'm planning to stay behind, to watch Poppy and the puppies, when I see Beckett grab his bow and disappear out the door. In a moment of curiosity, a nice respite from my constant tugging guilt, I follow, the dog trailing along behind me.
