by Jana Janeway
“They were trying to get them here,” Jessica began, almost abstractedly as her thoughts and heart raced. “The Purists were trying to get to them, to get to me. They ran them off the road.” With downcast eyes, knowing she couldn’t look her brother in the face, she whispered the devastating words. “Shea, Mom and Dad are dead.”
He immediately plunged into denial. “Don’t say stuff like that! They’re not dead! I just spoke with them last night!”
The tiny thread of composure Jessica was holding onto snapped. Slumping to her knees, she cried out, “They died today, Shea! On the way here!”
Dropping down beside her a second later, Craddock gathered her into his arms, not caring in that moment if Shea thought it odd or questioned it. The comfort he offered was swiftly and desperately accepted, her eyes shut tight as she sobbed into his chest.
“Oh my God,” Shea whispered. The painful reality finally sinking in, tears pricked his eyes as he watched his sister’s heartwrenching display.
“They probably weren’t trying to kill them,” Bibi interjected respectfully, “but the alternative would have been worse.”
“What’s worse than death?” Shea snapped, holding Stacy tighter to him as she began to cry harder, himself barely holding it in.
“They would have tortured them for information on Jessica’s whereabouts,” Bibi answered, “and eventually killed them anyway.”
“What kind of crazy sick bastards are these people?” Shea asked, placing his mourning on hold as hatred swelled inside him.
Though his tone was demanding, Bibi could understand where it was coming from. In an effort to keep from further adding to his temper, she answered calmly. “The worst kind. Paranoid, delusional, with feelings of superiority and bordering on psychotic.”
“Bordering on?” He glared back at her as if she herself held sole responsibility for the fate that had befallen his parents.
“I know how you feel, Shea, okay?” she said to him, recognizing that he was simply transferring the blame. “But I didn’t do this. I’m only trying to help the best way I know how. By giving you the information you’re entitled to.”
Scoffing, he asked, “How could you possibly know how I feel?”
“They killed my father when I was thirteen years old.” Her pain was obvious, even to Shea. “My mom couldn’t handle the grief. She killed herself a year later. That’s how I could possibly know how you feel, okay?”
Stepping up to the jamb on the hallway side of the door, Marcy cautiously peeked inside before rounding the corner. “We heard raised voices. Is everything okay?”
“No, it’s not!” Shea released Stacy from his arms and strode towards Marcy, only to stop short when he saw Jeramey inch into view behind her.
The man had an intimidating physique, no question about it. He stood at least four inches taller than Shea, and had muscles that could not be ignored. In the hours before his sister had arrived, Shea had learned firsthand that he could not match Jeramey’s strength, but that knowledge didn’t stop him from speaking his mind.
“I have to leave,” Shea insisted, his body rigid as if preparing for a confrontation. “I have to know. I have to see.”
“There’s nothing you can do for them now, Shea,” Marcy told him, firmly but gently. “I know you’re confused,” she attempted to reason with him, “and angry, but leaving here right now is not an option.”
“So we are prisoners,” he spat, his green eyes darkening as he shot daggers back at her.
“Only in that we can’t allow you to leave,” she answered, ignoring the sheer hatred for her that he exhibited. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but we’re trying to help you.”
Scoffing, he shouted, “I don’t want or need your kind of help! You killed my parents!”
“No,” she corrected, still retaining her composure, “the Purists killed your parents. We were trying to protect them.”
“Well, you failed,” he retorted venomously, starting for the door again. “I’m not waiting around for you to ‘protect’ me into a grave!”
Responding immediately, Jeramey pushed his girlfriend behind him and stepped up to the door, blocking Shea from leaving, his hands fisted and at the ready for the fight that seemed imminent. Bibi quickly moved away and over towards Stacy, who was standing with her arms around herself, still crying.
Mimicking Jeramey’s stance, Shea’s hands tightened into fists as well. “You think I’m afraid to duke it out with you?”
“Shea, stop it,” Jessica’s meek voice demanded of him, her face still pressed against Craddock, making the words muffled.
“You can trust them if you want to, Jessica,” his eyes never left the man in front of him, “but I’m getting out of here!”
“No, you’re not!” She pushed away from Craddock and up onto her feet. “I already lost my parents today! I’m not going to lose you, too!”
Turning, he faced his sister. “I’m not just going to sit here—”
“Yes, you are! That’s exactly what you’re going to do! And you’re going to listen to and follow every instruction these people give you, or I’m gonna kick your ass, right here, right now, in front of everybody!”
His combativeness waned a little. “How can you be so sure you can trust them?”
“I just can. Either trust my judgment on this, or get an ass whuppin’ and arrive at the same conclusion eventually anyway. It’s your call.”
It was a side of Jessica that Craddock hadn’t seen before. Sure, he’d seen her frustrated, and somewhat angry, but that anger was brought on by extreme fear and stress. What was being directed at her brother was an in control and in charge forcefulness that brought to light a whole other dimension of her personality. He liked it.
“What are you smirking at?”
It took him a second to realize that Shea’s question was aimed at him. When he did, Craddock quickly wiped the expression from his face and shrugged. “I wasn’t aware that I was.”
“My sister might be able to kick my ass,” Shea threatened, “but I’m pretty sure I could kick yours!”
Craddock seriously doubted that, since Shea was little more than a slightly taller male version of Jessica, but he was smart enough not to test the theory. Instead of engaging him, he just dropped his gaze to the floor.
“We don’t have time for pissing contests, Shea!” Jessica scolded him. “Lightning fast changes are about to take place, and important decisions need to be made, and you acting like a baby is just not on the agenda, alright?”
Making no attempt to hide his irritation, Shea asked her, “What changes? What decisions?”
Sighing, Jessica admitted, “I don’t even know everything yet, so, I think I’ll just let them explain things.”
When she pointed in their direction, Marcy took that as her cue and nudged Jeramey aside. “Why don’t we all go out into the living room, and calmly discuss what happens next, okay?”
Still holding onto his bitterness, Shea agreed with an abrupt “Fine,” then fell in line behind his sister and Craddock as they followed Marcy and Jeramey out of the room, with Stacy and Bibi closely tailing.
“So,” Stacy asked quietly, “what is your name?”
“Bibi.” She smiled slightly. “Lilith is my twin sister, and Kristy is my alias.”
“Twin sister? Really?” Stacy asked, surprised, asking after Bibi nodded, “So, you don’t work at Judy’s with Jessica?”
“No, that’s Lilith.”
“So, was it you, or Lilith, who showed up at the coffeehouse the other day looking for Jessica?”
“Me. You just assumed I was Lilith,” Bibi explained, “so I went with it.”
“So where does Lilith fit into all of this? Where’s she at?” Stacy asked as they entered the living room, the last in the line of people who had.
“Behind enemy lines,” Bibi muttered, her worry obvious by her tone. She forced a slight strained smile in an effort to downplay it when the woman she didn’t really know looked over
at her questioningly.
“Oh my God,” Stacy whispered, “is she in danger?”
“Yes,” Marcy answered, startling Stacy, as she wasn’t expecting the response to come from someone other than Bibi. “It’s important that you understand how dire this situation is,” she gestured for everyone to take seats wherever they could as she stood front and center, “so I’m not going to mollycoddle you people. Time to be straightforward. Even brutal. Everyone in this room is in danger.” Spotting Josiah as he approached, she waved him over. “Everyone involved in this is in danger. Two very good agents and people—two very dear friends of mine—are dead now, because of this situation. Because they tried to protect Zack and Jill Mitchell, by bringing them here.”
“Why?” Shea asked civilly. “Why do these people want to see us dead?”
“Because of your association with Jessica,” Marcy answered bluntly. “These people believe that no one should do the BTR over the age of seven days old—”
“What’s BTR mean?” Stacy asked, interrupting her.
“Blood Touch Ritual,” Marcy answered patiently. “The ritual is done to convert Humans with Mengliad DNA into Mengliads. It’s usually done within a few days of birth, up to the age of seven days. Sometimes, adult Humans will learn, through family members and such, that they have Mengliad DNA, and wish to convert, so they do the ritual later in life. This is called Later Conversion. The Purists want to stop this from happening at all costs.”
“Why?” Shea’s earlier agitation was completely missing from his tone and demeanor.
“Lots of reasons, but the main ones are, they think it’s weakening the strength or purity of the species, and they’re afraid the LC—the Late Convert—will turn themselves over to scientists and the government, to prove we exist.”
Confused, Stacy offered, “But Jessica said this was an accident. Couldn’t you just explain that to these people?”
“The fact that her conversion was accidental makes it worse, in their eyes. Mainly because, if she wasn’t planning to do this, the chances are better that she’d go seek medical help, to determine what was happening to her.”
“So, is that why they want her dead?” Stacy asked. “Because they want to stop her from going to the doctor?”
Marcy shook her head. “No. They don’t know Jessica’s conversion was accidental. From the latest reports we’ve received, they think she did this because she’s engaged to a Mengliad, and wants to be the same species as him.”
“Engaged?” Shea asked, his gaze shifting over to Craddock, who was seated very close to Jessica with his arm around her.
Jessica rolled her eyes. “It was a lie, Shea. We only said it, to hopefully stop them from killing us.”
“Right,” he drawled sarcastically, “and so then his arm is around you, why?”
“‘Cause he’s a nice guy who cares that I’m distraught, okay, Shea?” She dropped her annoyance when she requested of Marcy, “Continue, please.”
She didn’t even hesitate. “The only way to get you safely away from these people, is to relocate you.”
“Like, how the FBI does with mob witnesses?” Stacy asked, scowling.
“Yes. Like that.”
“So we would have to. . . leave?” Stacy asked worriedly. “For, like, ever?”
“Yes,” Marcy answered gently, understanding of the distress she was exhibiting.
Shea’s frown returned, closely resembling a glare. “And who decided that this was our only option?”
“The Registry,” Marcy answered, defensive.
Noting her tone, he curbed his own a little. “And the Registry is?”
“Basically, it’s an organization of people who are dedicated to the peaceful coexistence of our two species.”
“So it isn’t like the FBI, or a government agency?” Shea asked, sounding somewhat surprised and slightly confused.
“No, it’s more like a civil rights organization, or an advocacy group.”
“So its sole purpose—the Registry’s sole purpose—is to protect people from the Purists?”
“No, the Registry is responsible for far more than just that,” Marcy answered. “They help trace family lineages, recruit donors, and hire and train clerics for the BTR. We help relocate people who are ready to change identities, and assist them in settling into their new lives. We offer reference lists, for Mengliad lawyers, doctors, schools, daycares, employers and employment agencies. If a Mengliad needs assistance with something, the Registry is where they go.”
“If you need assistance, the Registry can help,” Josiah said, to which Marcy cracked a smile in response.
“That’s our slogan.” After explaining Josiah’s comment and her reaction to it, she continued. “Nobody’s gonna force you to relocate. We’re offering our services to you because we’re trying to be of assistance, but you certainly don’t have to accept it. We only ask that if you do refuse our help, you wait to go back to your lives, until after we relocate your sister and her friends.”
“And that you don’t breathe a word of this to anyone,” Jeramey added firmly.
“If we do this. . . the relocation thing. . .” Stacy glanced at Jessica. “Would we be going with Jessica?”
Marcy shook her head. “No. It wouldn’t be safe to relocate you all together. We’re gonna need to split you up.”
Before it was even asked, she knew what the next question was going to be.
“You mean, we’re never going to see her ever again?” Stacy asked tearfully.
“At a later point in time, once the heat is off, and the Purists relax some, arrangements can be made for a meeting, possibly, but realistically, for safety’s sake, we prefer all interactions with persons from past identities be in the form of phone calls or email.”
“So, Jessica has to do this alone?” Shea asked harshly, his protective nature kicking in once again.
Knowing Shea’s attention was about to be on him, Craddock removed his arm from around Jessica, scooting the available half inch of space away from her as Marcy answered.
“No, actually, Craddock will be with her.”
“Why him?” Shea challenged.
Craddock tensed, but Jessica just rolled her eyes.
“Don’t make a thing out of this, Shea,” she warned him with as little emotion as possible. “Craddock and I are relocating together, as a married couple.”
“You are dating this guy, aren’t you?” He shifted to the edge of his seat so he could glare over at her.
“No, Shea,” she sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes yet again in exasperation, “I just met him on Tuesday!”
Indignantly, he shot back, “Then why in the hell are you marrying him?”
Chapter Nineteen
As Shea had a moment before, Jessica inched to the edge of the couch, locking eyes with him. “What did I just say? Did I not just tell you not to make a thing out of this?”
Hoping to alleviate tensions between the two siblings, Marcy interjected, her tone even and calm. “There are a few reasons for why.” Shea’s attention was off his sister and on Marcy in the flash of a second, his intense stare challenging her. “For starters,” she began, “she doesn’t know how to function in this society. Yet. She’s going to need help. Guidance. He can provide her with that. Secondly, the Purists already believe they are an engaged couple. Once everyone calms down, it’s possible that we can negotiate with them, for them to back off and leave her alone. The possibility of that happening is better if she’s married, like she said she was going to be, to the man she said she was going to be with. If they find out she was lying, no amount of negotiating is going to change their minds.”
Surprised by what had just been said, Jessica asked, “You think it’s still possible to negotiate with these people? After everything that’s happened?”
“They’re a ‘shoot first, ask questions later’ kind of people,” Marcy explained. “Once they calm down a little, then, yes, it’s possible. Not probable, but possible. That’s
the hope, at any rate.”
“So, if these people can be reasoned with on some level,” Shea argued, “and they agree to back off and stop trying to kill her and everyone she knows, based solely on her relationship with him, that would mean that she’s stuck married to him forever!”
“Forever? No. Years, yes, but not necessarily forever. Mengliads get divorces, too, ya’know.”
“But by then,” Bibi added, “they will see that she’s adjusted into this society, and that she’s not planning to out the species, so her getting a divorce won’t matter to them.”
“Exactly,” Marcy agreed with her.
Shea conceded with a heavy sigh. “Alright, so, walk us through this. What happens now?”
“New identities are being created for the four of them as we speak.” Marcy gestured towards Jessica, Craddock, Bibi, and Josiah. “Say the word, and it takes a simple phone call to get yours started as well. We’ll move them first, get them a good safe distance between here and where they’re going, then, we’ll move the two of you.”
“Move them and us to where?” Shea asked, wanting as much information as possible before deciding how next to proceed.
“We don’t have those details yet. We won’t, until the new identity packets are delivered.”
“And for safety’s sake,” Jeramey added, “you won’t know where they’re going and they won’t know where you’re going.”
“Can we go together at least?” Stacy pointed between herself and Shea.
“Yes,” Marcy answered, and for the first time since their nightmare had begun, Stacy had a slight sense of hope.
Grasping Shea’s hand, her fingers entwining with his, Stacy whispered to him, “At least that’s something, right?”
With only a brief glance in her direction, Shea settled back in his seat. “What about extended family? Stacy has living parents, and a sister. Are they in danger?”
“We don’t feel that they are, mainly because they’re further removed from the situation, and Humans. The Purists don’t want to bring added attention to themselves, in the Human community.”
