“I suppose we could be sensible and eat while we talk?”
Young Cyril clapped his hands together. “Good idea. Transformations always sap the resources.” He paused in thought and looked around the kitchen. “Where is Timothy?”
I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip before I said, “He’s sort of a pile of dust in my room…”
A look of dread, alarm and fear lit his features from within, “And you just left it there? Did you remove the CORE?” He waved an arm, exasperated. “Of course you didn’t! You don’t even know what the hell I’m talking about! Curse Rowena, that selfish twit!”
He ran, arms pumping and legs lifting high, right out the swinging door and into the hall. I pointed at Iz and Dom, “Stay put!” and raced after Young Cyril. By the time I cleared the hall I couldn’t see him anymore. I could hear the thumps of his stomping feet on the second floor hallway though.
Dom bumped into me from behind. “You don’t tell me to stay anywhere, Zena. I go where you go.”
Izzy shoved me from the right. “Don’t you watch scary movies? The people that split up get dead, for real!”
I rolled my eyes. “Ugh, come on then!”
9 ACCIDENTAL TWITS
We ran three wide up the stairs, feet pounding the wood with rhythm-less percussion. I came out in the lead, making it to my bedroom doorway first. What I saw boggled my mind so much, I stopped dead to stare. It’s possible I forgot to breathe too, until Dom slammed into me, that is. His mouth was close to my ear. “What the…?”
Young Cyril had yanked the blanket off my bed. He was sneaking up to the now wriggling pile of dirt and clothes with the blanket spread between his arms in a makeshift net. A ghostly spider-like leg poked right through the charred hole where Tim’s back had been. The body of the thing, whatever it was, popped free and I nixed the spider reference. It was more like a round centipede with waving cilia appendages.
Izzy asked from the hall, “Why are we stopped?”
Young Cyril spat, “Shit!” and sprung on the skittering bug-thing as it orientated toward the sound of my friend’s voice and chittered. He just barely managed to get it caught in the blanket, trapping it under his palms and the floorboards.
The same cerulean light that had arced around me in my bathroom erupted from his hands. Raw meat and butane hit me in an olfactory brick cloud, thick and charged. I rubbed my nose, trying to rid myself of the invasive sensation.
Dom pushed past and Izzy fell into step behind me as we approached the ruined and smoking blanket. Its red and black plaid had a six-inch hole through which I could see the corpse of the many-legged…remains. Smoldering orange embers glowed on the surrounding cloth. The last thing we needed was a house fire. I intended to smother it out.
As I drew closer the hairs all over my body began to tingle.
Cyril commanded, “Stop, Bozena!”
“Why? You need to put out the burning bits before the rest of it catches!”
He settled on his knees and heels, dusting his hands on the thighs of his already soiled pajama pants. “Because we’ll react to one another until my charge dissipates. Just stay there until I say so.” Head tilted like he was looking over the rim of glasses he no longer wore, his eyebrows crept upward. “That is unless you’d prefer to immolate your friends?”
Dominic asked, “What was that?”
Cyril stood like it hurt, slow and unsure of his legs. “A CORE, just like I said earlier. Weren’t you listening?”
Dominic waved both arms over his head then slapped his thighs. “Fine! How about a rephrase? What the hell is a ‘core’ then?”
Izzy sniffed and scowled at the remains then looked from Young Cyril to me.
She ran her index finger across her top lip before she said, “I’d rather know what immolate means…”
I stared at the ceiling and counted to three before I answered, “To kill or offer as sacrifice, especially by burning.”
She took a step away. “Ain’t nobody sacrificing this fine ass, chica!”
Dom and I shared an instant of perfect understanding.
He reassured Iz, “Zena was just giving you the definition of the word, Izzy, not threatening to kill you or anything.” Dom asked Cyril again, with more patience, “Please, enlighten us, what is a ‘core’?”
Young Cyril blinked dull, tired eyes. “Covert Operation Remote Element. CORE. They imitate living beings to infiltrate human society and carry out tasks as programmed. Not much on decision making capabilities beyond the basics, but effective enough if someone wants you dead. If immobilized, the insulation dusts and then the ‘brain’ emerges to finish the task, return to its master or find another human to replicate.”
I bobbed my head. “Yeahhhh…that makes absolutely no sense, Cyril.”
One side of his mouth curved up. “So you believe I am who I say I am now?”
“Not really. I have to call you something though, don’t I?”
Dom stuffed his hands in his pockets and rocked on his heels. “Who would send a CORE and why? You said ‘human society’ so I’m gonna assume you don’t think you’re a human being. What are you?”
He was trying not to look my way as he asked that last question.
Young Cyril took a deep breath then ran his hands down the top of his forearms one at a time. “Bozena, my charge has dissipated. You can move now.”
Immediately I crouched by the blanket to get a closer look at the remains. “Can I touch it?”
Cyril looked down and shrugged. “I don’t know, young lady, can you?”
“May I then? Are you going to answer Dominic’s question?”
He folded his fingers over his thumb to imitate talking. “Question, question, question. I hate this part. Years and years of living but the questions are still the same.”
Izzy barked out a laugh that startled everyone. “Get used to it, then.”
I turned back to the charred hole in the blanket. The remnants of the device looked organic, not mechanical. When I touched one of the legs a zing of static popped into my skin and I yelped. Dom and Izzy drew closer. Their feet were visible out of the corners of my eyes.
Back to the inspection. When the body was flipped, and the carcass wasn’t heavy, on the contrary it was paper light, a circular opening was revealed. A mouth maybe? Inside, I could just make out the shape of something. Curious I extended a hand to peel back the ‘lip’ and got smacked on the top of my head.
Cyril sniped, “Don’t touch the mouth, you twit!”
“Eff an A! Don’t hit me!”
Dom’s feet shifted beside me so I looked up while I rubbed my sore scalp. His face was a dark cloud of disapproval.
Cyril chided, “Be smarter and I won’t, Bozena.”
Ugh, another saying from my childhood. I was beginning to remember some of the less pleasant aspects of having my father around. Years had replaced the negative parts of his personality with the positive until I’d built an unrealistic saint in my mind. Although he didn’t look old enough to be my biological parent I was beginning to believe he was.
Izzy threw in, “How come you haven’t answered Dom’s questions? Are you afraid or something?”
Cyril stood taller. Through tight lips he spat, “Fine. I’ll assume you know what an illegal immigrant is?”
She tucked her chin into her neck and raised one eyebrow. “I don’t appreciate what you’re implying, but yeah.”
He smiled in satisfaction at her irritation. “This world is one among many. My race traveled here in the hopes of escaping the slavery we were bred for. There are rules. We are long lived so procreation is strictly managed as to preserve this planet’s integrity. Although you humans appear to be destroying it at an alarming rate…”
Dom flipped his hair back. “Spare us the lecture and get to the point.”
I stood, settling in between my friends. All three of us were doing our best stare-downs at Cyril. He laughed.
“I’m notoriously bad at following the rules. As you c
an tell. I have two children, neither of which were approved. Christophe was an accident. I got too involved in the role I was playing and let Rowena get pregnant. Had I followed said rules, both of them would be dead.”
The phantom heart of fear was beating next to the real one in my chest again. “What about Chris? Do you know what I did to him? Is he alive?”
Cyril’s expression hardened. “Rowena has what I need to determine where your brother is. I can tell you he’s alive because I would feel his death but I don’t know much else beyond that, Bozena.”
“The necklace?”
His hand sliced through the air. “The Dalah is not a necklace.”
Dom voiced our confusion, “Dollar?”
“No! D-a-l-a-h, I suppose I could roughly translate it to mean ‘blood key’ but that leaves a lot to be desired. It awakens the genetic codes in our kind when they have reached their majority. The Dalah is held by each bloodline and passed down through time.” He paused, looking stern. “You should have been nowhere near it until your initiation had commenced. Rowena wasn’t supposed to remove it from the box. At the proper time Christophe would have guided you. Tell me what happened, Bozena.”
“Could we go back to the kitchen and eat while we talk?”
He held out a hand. “Come here.”
“Why?”
“Please, Daughter?” His eyes were watery.
Grudgingly, I shuffled his direction, head turned sideways as I waited for something to happen. What I didn’t really know. The trust factor in me was next to nil where Cyril was concerned. I’d play along to a point, as long as it got me the answers I needed.
Cyril enfolded me in a hug. I stood tall and stiff as he placed a palm to the back of my hair, stroking my still damp ponytail ends. Hugging your five foot, ten-inch-tall daughter when she wasn’t feeling at all lovey wasn’t the same as cuddling the eight-year-old of his memory, I was sure.
“I’ve missed you so much. The only reason I left was to protect you, not because I wanted to. No, my love, not at all. I’m so sorry your life has been a mess. It’s my fault, love, all of it. We’ll get Christophe back, I swear it.”
Izzy coughed the word ‘bullshit’ into her fist.
Dominic swatted at her. “You’re not helping.”
Iz threw her hands out from her sides. Her cheeks were flushed and pink strands were beginning to frizz out in the worst imitation of Einstein’s coif I’d ever seen.
“I’m not here to help anyone but Z! Big Daddy over there might say sorry and give her all the reasons or excuses in the world but he still let her think she killed Chris! Not to mention leaving her to rot in that shit hole institution for crazy ass people with a molester running it! Excuse me if I’m a little angry in her defense!”
I pushed against my father’s chest. “She’s right, you know.”
He didn’t argue…much. “I know. If I could have come sooner, I would’ve, Bozena. You have my word.”
Izzy ranted, “What good is that?”
I shushed her. “It’s okay, Iz. Let’s go eat before I freakin’ pass out. I’m hungry.”
The doorbell echoed up the hall from downstairs.
Dom sighed. “I’ll get it.”
10 JOHNNY LAW
I was beginning to think there was a master plan in place to prevent me from eating breakfast. The clock over the stovetop read ten on the dot. It could technically be considered lunch in an hour and a half.
Two detectives from the Gaston Police Department stood side by side in front of the closed pantry. Both wore department issue navy blue polo shirts with khaki slacks and sensible rubber soled shoes. Their shiny badges were fastened to black leather belts. The pair were like matching bookends—salt and pepper gray hair cut close to the scalp and lines around the eyes that gave the impression of a permanent squint. One had a piercing gray gaze that made shivers dance down my arms.
Cyril was hiding somewhere in the house. These officers of the law might not react well to his sudden, younger reappearance on the same day Fletcher’s properties burned.
A bacon filled plate slid in front of me on the island.
Dom smiled with his eyes as I communicated my joy by shoving some crunchy, cooled goodness in my mouth. The cold grease made a layer on my tongue but I didn’t care. In my half-starved state it was just a flavor savor.
Detective Dobbins, the one with the flat, dead gaze, flipped a page in his pocket-sized notebook over. “When was the last time you spoke with your lawyer?”
Izzy objected from her seat at the table, “She already told you. You’re just trying to catch her in a lie.”
His partner, Detective Brown, shifted on his feet and tugged on his belt in agitation. He was antsy and it was grinding on everyone’s nerves. The detective’s thick mustache wriggled under his nose as he sniffed. Dark basset hound bags under his eyes made the whites bright by comparison. He looked tired. I wondered how close he was to retirement.
Brown said, “And we’ll keep asking until we’re satisfied.”
I raised my hand like a kid in school, dropping it by inches as I spoke, “Look, I’m not hiding anything, gentlemen. I’ve been cooperative. The second this turns hostile I’m going to kick your butts out of my kitchen. I’d like to know what happened as much as you would. If I had any information that would help you solve this case I would share it. There’s no motive for me to harm my counsel.”
Dobbins finished scribbling something, clicked his pen and stuffed the notebook in a back pocket. “Don’t leave town, Ms. Skala.”
Izzy stood, popping out her chest. “She can’t anyway. The state has to assign her another guardian for her probation. That right there’s enough to make her not a suspect. Who knows who she’ll get? At least Fletcher would’ve had her best interest in mind since she pays his retainer.”
The bottom dropped out of the pit of my gut. Congealed bacon fat and grease swirled around in my suddenly acidic stomach. Izzy was right. I’d threatened Dr. Miller but as far as I knew the package Fletcher had mailed with the anonymous proof of his illegal, heinous activities hadn’t arrived at the GPD sexual crimes unit yet. Even if it had, the video would have to be verified and an investigation carried out. Oh, son of a bitch, what if I ended up having to report to that rat bastard? What if he recommended I be recommitted as revenge?
As Iz would say, eff an A!
Young Cyril came through the swinging door dressed in some of his old clothes. I was surprised Rowena hadn’t doused them in kerosene and dumped them in a fireplace years ago. But I was more surprised he was here. His face looked different somehow. The nose was thinner and the eyes were set closer together. What the hell?
He extended a hand to the detectives. Dobbins ignored it and looked him up and down from his loafer clad feet, flowing linen slacks and loose button-up dress shirt, to his dark curling hair.
Brown shook, hitching his pants and sniffing before he demanded to know, “And who might you be, sir?”
Cyril smiled, all charisma and slick charm. “I’m, Anton Skala, Bozena’s second cousin twice removed on her father’s side, and her new counsel until such time as her old counsel is found. How can I help you?”
Dobbins’ mouth twitched as if he was stifling a cough. “It was presumed Cyril Skala had no other relations at the time of his death since none came forward at the reading of his estate.”
My father grinned so wide it looked like his cheeks would split under his serious eyes. “If you’re the distant illegitimate offspring of a poor relation I don’t imagine there’s much hope of being included in the will. Besides, it’s bad manners to profit off a loved one’s death, especially at the expense of his surviving widow and children.”
He slid an arm over my shoulder and I tried to make it seem comfortable. I breathed in, catching the faint aroma of my father’s familiar scent. That helped a little.
“If you’re through insulting us and accusing us of crimes we haven’t committed then I’d say you’re free to go. Please let
us know how else we can help with a phone call.”
The two men darted quick looks of veiled contempt at Cyril’s dismissal. He released me from the showy embrace and held an arm out toward the swinging door.
“Let me escort you out, Detectives.”
Brown huffed, “Are you a lawyer or a butler?”
Cyril, A.K.A. ‘Anton’ scratched his chin through perfectly trimmed facial hair, eyes sparkling with a secret joke. “I imagine I’m whatever I decide to be.”
Dobbins caught it, unamused. “We’ll be back.”
After they left I braced myself on the island and cupped my face in my hands. The decorative mosaic of glazed tiles blurred out of focus between my fingers. My throat burned with the well of emotion bubbling up from my insides. I would not cry. I would not.
Someone patted my back in a tentative circle. Shoulders stiff, my body jerked sideways. No one needed to touch me right now. I’d lose it. A row of speckled squares became my focal point. I concentrated on each uneven whorl until my heart rate steadied and the burn receded. When I looked up Dominic was carrying the bacon pan over to the sink and Izzy was chewing her lip beside me.
“I’m sorry I said that stuff about probation, Z. I should’ve thought about Dr. Miller.” Her chin trembled. “I’ll run away with you before he gets to you again.”
Dom turned the hot water knob full blast, resting the pan on the rim of the sink. Pipes began to sing in the walls. “Do I need to hurt somebody? You’re not running, Zena. I’ll fight with you but you’re not running.”
I wiped my sweaty palms on my hips. “I’m not going to run. Izzy just meant she wouldn’t let me be alone with him again. I can hurt my own enemies, Dom.”
He nodded. The steam rising from the sink looked like an indoor cloudbank behind his upper body.
From the garden Cyril’s voice boomed with outrage, “Bozena Skala you get out here this instant!”
We turned as one.
Through the window to the garden my father was visible. He was standing by the fouled trashcan from last night, pointing down with an outraged expression. It was so parental and normal that I started to laugh and couldn’t stop.
The Blood Key (The Wander Series Book 1) Page 6
