The Blood Key (The Wander Series Book 1)

by Vaun Murphrey

  Yup. I still hated Rowena. Dominic ignored her cleavage. He’d just earned major bonus points.

  Izzy let the hug end. “You think you can stand, Z?”

  I nodded. Dom took one elbow and Iz got the other. When they heaved me upright, books on the walls looked as if they were having their own private earthquake. I closed my eyes and willed the world to still. The inside of my head was heavy and it took more effort than I liked to keep my neck straight.

  One eye crept open. The massive volume Cyril had thrown from the highest shelf began to hum and glow. As I watched, the letters melted and reformed into cuneiform shapes that meant absolutely nothing to me. My insides felt congealed and the loose boned unsteadiness left me.

  I asked Cyril, being careful not to look in Rowena’s direction, “How am I supposed to read a foreign language I’ve never learned? I’m sick to death of your round about answers and tricks! All I want is my brother back, damn it!”

  My father’s black hair wriggled on his head as if alive. Was I imagining it? At Izzy’s gasp I decided not. Cyril appeared to grow inches, his chin became more pointed, as did his nose, and his eyes took on an upward slant. Halfway to dusky skin became the true hue and what had once been a comical, often frustrating human-seeming man morphed into a frightening predator I didn’t know at all.

  The tongue that lisped out words was forked, “Do not quessstion me, sssa.”

  Dominic was the only one in our trio unsurprised. I stared up at him and raised my eyebrows as Iz shivered against my other side.

  He shrugged, “Oral histories remember?”

  Rowena screeched, “You’re a demon! I had a baby with a demon!”

  She stumbled backward in fear and would have fallen down the pitch dark stairwell, likely breaking her neck, if Cyril hadn’t loped over to catch her by the waist.

  Aaaand then she fainted.

  Cyril whipped the dusty white sheet off the nearest piece of furniture. I watched his new body move as he deposited his unconscious wife on an overstuffed leather sofa, and was reminded of a bat without wings. Don’t get me wrong, Cyril was still humanoid, but his joints moved in ways a normal humans wouldn’t and his gait was at once smooth and jerky, depending on what he was doing or how fast he was doing it. All those years of studying sea life and my natural curiosity about the world around me filled me with an unexpected calmness when perhaps Rowena’s reaction would’ve been the more expected one.

  When he turned to me I asked, “So this is me? What you are is what I am?” I was really hoping for a ‘no’ on this one.

  Cyril placed long many-jointed fingers in a steeple and clacked his wicked nails. “Your bassse ssshape isss alwaysss the one in which you were born.”

  He made a strange shrugging movement and snapped his fingers before he spun to paw around Rowena’s clothes. After all the pockets and even the inside of Rowena’s boots were searched only one location remained. Cyril paused before darting his flexible fingers into the crevasse of his estranged wife’s breasts.

  A moment later the Dalah rested in his alien claws.

  I despised it on sight. My throat felt tight and dry. Blue energy sizzled and popped on the rounded center button.

  Cyril lisped out, “Ssstop that!” He shook it for good measure.

  Surprisingly enough the power vanished and the reaction that had leapt up in chicken-skinned bumps all over my body began to recede.

  He loped to the abandoned volume at my feet.

  “Watch, sssa, and I will sshow you how to learn.”

  With care, Cyril set the rounded flying saucer-shaped device in the center of the cuneiform writing on the cover. I heard the stitches in his clothing pop and tear. He jerked upright and felt around his butt then turned his back away from us to the exposed book spines behind him.

  Iz sputtered a laugh and Cyril shot her a censorious look which only made her laugh louder.

  When the ‘words’ on the book spiraled into a whirlpool of faint light Izzy got quiet.

  Cyril instructed, “You must alwaysss be in your basssse ssshape to handle this artifact. Put your palm in the epicccenter. It will read your energy sssignature and fill in your knowledge gapsss.”

  Dominic nudged my shoulder to get my attention.

  “Sounds dangerous to me, Zena.”

  The dominant emotion inside me was curiosity, not fear. I stretched my arm toward the book and wondered at the flecks of green in the muted glow. What were they and how would my education be accomplished? Would it hurt? How long would it take?

  Cyril inclined his head, cracking a wise smile before he answered the broadcast thoughts, “You’ll sssee, no pain, and time isss relative.”

  With a final glance into my father’s dark alien eyes I pushed my palm into the rotating mass. Warmth, welcome, and a buzz of relaxation were my first impressions. A questing foreign thought surged through my head. Memories were lifted and weighed then gently laid down. Cyril was right, it wasn’t painful, only strange. The library disappeared to be replaced by a three-dimensional representation of my brain on a field of blank white. It reminded me of a sterile operating chamber. All of the connections between one synapse and another were highlighted in vivid lavender. Every time one connected a pulse of green sparks flared and the foreign presence paid attention.

  I felt the warmth inside grow and spread, carrying things I couldn’t quite name, but I knew they were there all the same. The first time a hole was filled an image flashed of other creatures like Cyril fleeing destruction and great plumes of conflagration. One image after another panned in my mind’s eye giving me impressions of dark and desperate pasts on other worlds.

  The history of my father’s rulers and the use to which they put their slaves in conquest was long. It had weight that threatened to drown my sense of self and free will. A chiding sensation came from the presence and the onslaught slowed to nothing.

  I thought a ‘thank you’ and got a question in return, although not in words, just as an open expectation I interpreted to inquire if I was ready to continue. My agreement was met with more information at a steadier, less rushed pace. Caution was the overriding emotion from this other presence. I’d have to ask my father if it was an artificial intelligence or a supremely sophisticated software built to pick up on emotions.

  Leadership can be abused and misused. There weren’t words for the atrocities I relived. Whole planets darkened when they dared to resist and the ever hungry masters of mayhem moved onward to the next habitable world and the next, pouring in wave after wave through slave-made portals, miles wide. Cyril hadn’t been lying about the danger, although I got the sense this conquering horde was many, many galaxies distant. Distance wouldn’t mean much if they chose Earth—no not at all.

  His masters were humanoid in a disturbing slithering way. Their limbs were long; the closest thing I could ascribe them to was the absurd sketches of models by clothing designers. Short bodies, weaving necks, bony elbows and knees with sinewy muscles and no fat. They slid their feet instead of picking them up and somehow made it look sinuous.

  Their noses were flat to their faces over wide lipless mouths. When they moved, light reflected off pearlescent skin and the beauty of it was almost hypnotizing. I could feel the worship bred into their slaves, the false all-consuming adoration, and it terrified me in ways that shook my being. Dying at the hands of a master was considered an honor and living at their behest a privilege. It wasn’t really living at all.

  Of course, Cyril knew this already and because he possessed the free will to run, he had. I didn’t blame him for leaving those he couldn’t help behind. The monumental task was mind crushing. How could you change the course of a river with one foot?

  The pace picked up again and the presence in my mind communicated an end. Some things I had been shown as they were inserted and others would rise to the surface of my thoughts through time as internal questions connected to answers. This final understanding was sent as an impression.

  My hyper color
ed holographic brain reappeared and faded. My father’s true face replaced it. I saw him through a different lens now, one filled with the weight of knowledge I hadn’t possessed. He wanted to free a whole race born into slavery who didn’t want to be freed in order to topple a civilization bent on conquering the known universe.

  Was he insane? Possibly.

  19 IT WAKES

  Staring into my father’s face I now knew the reason for some of his more annoying personality quirks. Did that make them more bearable? Not really.

  The physical sensations of the library sank in. Dust in the air, the smell of old books and decaying paper mixed with the scent of leather couches made me feel anxious rather than peaceful. A strange paranoia set in.

  Cyril snapped his fingers. “The after effectsss of the joining will passsss. Take a breath. Touch sssomething to feel grounded. Your mind isss sssstill too much in the other placcce, sssa.”

  My hands were in my lap and I couldn’t remember them getting there. Still and ordinary looking, the artifact disguised as an old book was back to its unassuming form. No whirling lights beckoned to be touched. As I watched, Cyril lifted the Dalah from the cover and deposited it in a plain, unlined wooden box. When had that gotten there?

  Cyril’s hair was longer in his natural form with none of the curl or bounce. In fact, it resembled spongy black dreadlocks and one of my fingers twitched with a need to touch them. Did he feel more at home in his base form than the other human ones?

  As my thought folded to a close Cyril’s body began to lighten and shrink. The skin bumped and bubbled while it contracted over crackling bones. It sounded so painful.

  Izzy had already been squeezing one of my arms one handed, but now her grip was doubled on my bicep as if she were choking up on a bat for a swing. Dominic was a cloud of body heat on the other side. It was a miracle she hadn’t gotten any green goopy alien blood on herself. They were both so quiet it made the sounds of Cyril’s change seem louder.

  Two clumps of shoe heels hitting the floor made me jump. We all turned to see Rowena sitting on the couch. Her head was in her hands as she moaned low enough that it was nearly lost in the noise of my father’s transformation. One hand dropped to her breasts to pat around in a circle.

  Rowena’s upper body snapped to attention as if a lightning bolt had entered her tailbone. “Give it back, you thieving monster!”

  Cyril’s ‘normal’ voice was back, “How can I possibly be named a thief if what I ‘stole’ was mine in the first place, Rowena? Well, technically it isn’t mine but here on Earth possession is nine tenths of the law, or so I hear.”

  Rowena launched herself into a standing position then swayed in place and put her painted nails to her temples.

  “Did you drug me, you awful creature?”

  Dominic answered, “You fainted and he caught you before you fell down the stairs and broke yourself.”

  I could hear the implied disgust in Dom’s response. It made the corners of my mouth lift.

  Izzy let go of my arm to join the fray.

  “Anyway, chica, who faints anymore? It’s not like you’re wearing a corset. Quit pretending you’re a delicate flower and shit. I ain’t buyin’ it.”

  Maybe we could all be united in our hate of Rowena? I pictured a grand banner with her cleavage and the words ‘No more!’ stamped underneath. I decided not to mention my brief lack of consciousness earlier. After all, who did that anymore?

  Another thought invaded, pushing my banner aside and Cyril’s voice ground in, “She is my wife, sa. Respect.”

  Anger surged in my gut as I yelled out loud, “Respect! Ha! This, this…woman let me be committed to an asylum while you were gone! She’s never been kind to me a day in my life, Cyril. So, screw her and screw you if you’re taking her side over mine!”

  Rowena flicked her fingers at the air as she spoke, “I’m the evil stepmother aren’t I? It’s my duty to live up to it.” She dropped her arms and strutted closer, eyes completely consumed with Cyril’s now human body. “You should be madder at your Daddy Dearest, Zena. He’s got us all dancing to his tune, don’t you, honey?” Her face hardened and her voice went flat with determination. “Get my Christophe back, Cyril.”

  I turned to see the top of my father’s head. He was fiddling with the box lid, locking it on both sides by flipping two latches downward. Cyril stood and tucked the securely sealed box under one arm.

  Sunlight broke through a cloud bank and streamed into the library from the skylight above. Cyril’s dark eyes absorbed the light and his pupils looked to hold tiny flames. It was an illusion that caused Rowena to take a step backward.

  “I will retrieve our son.”

  Dominic asked the question that had been about to trip out of my lips.

  “How and when? You said you needed the Dalah and now you have it.”

  The reflected flames disappeared when Cyril looked away from Rowena. “I said I needed it to find Christophe but we already know where he is.” His gaze drifted to the stairwell and then back again to Dominic. “There are favors owed to me and I intend to cash them in. Once the help I need arrives then the mission can begin. You need not worry yourself over it since you won’t be coming.”

  Izzy griped, “I missed a whole bunch while I was gone didn’t I?”

  I threw my words to the side at her in a rush, “I’ll tell you later, Iz.”

  My head snapped around as I watched my father make his way to the secret entrance. Before I hadn’t been able to see what he did to change the desk, but now I could. The tips of his fingers caressed a protruding edge and a white glow haloed his touch as if that section were a touchscreen plate.

  It was a noiseless transformation. That made sense if the whole thing was supposed to be kept a secret. The thought of Christophe knowing about all this still rankled. Regardless of Cyril’s words about my brother’s reasons for holding back this information from me, betrayal lingered as a burn in my gut.

  I confronted my father. “So you’re implying we won’t be going with you on this rescue mission of yours…?”

  Cyril opened a drawer in the now reformed desk to deposit the box with the Dalah. Other things rolled and rattled around on the bottom and I wondered at how they were still there. Where did the drawer’s contents get to during the transformation?

  His answer was so loud his words echoed around the library ceiling, “I do apologize for implying you won’t be going because I meant to say it directly—you won’t be going.”

  “And what happens if you fail, Cyril?” Rowena’s arms were crossed under her breasts and one hip was cocked. “My son could be lost to me forever.”

  One black eyebrow crept upward, making little indentions around Cyril’s hairline. “Failure on my own is better than both of my children being taken, Rowena.”

  A wheedling edge almost crept into my voice so I cleared my throat and straightened my stance, “At least tell us the plan before you go? Who can we call as backup if you don’t come home? How long should you be away so we know when to worry? These are all things you should share with us.”

  Cyril slammed his palms on the desk and Iz squeaked with surprise. “Do you not think I have enough to fret over without you all nattering at me? Harpies!”

  Dominic crossed his arms over his chest, saw Rowena still posed that way and dropped them. “Quit yelling at us. We’re all keyed up about Christophe and Zena just doesn’t want to lose you again.”

  Heat spilled into my face at Dom’s assumption of my feelings. Especially since he was right. I could speak for myself, though. Izzy wrapped her fingers into mine and held on.

  Cyril’s face stilled into blankness. The same static buzz I received when he shot his thoughts at me was humming between my ears. My father was listening to someone else speak.

  His cheeks turned ashen and his mouth went slack at whatever he heard. “You needn’t worry over my safe return. Your brother is coming here.”

  20 GARDEN PARTY

  Cyril looked d
own at his much abused clothing and sighed, “I wish I had time to change,” then bolted for the hall without another word.

  Izzy’s face was bewildered and more than a little panicked, “Wha…?”

  Dominic on the other hand was excited. He grabbed my wrist and tugged me into a run in the direction Cyril had dashed. I felt numb. This couldn’t be happening. One minute we were arguing over who would rescue him and now my brother was here? With who? Would it be my estranged mother? Why would they come now and not before? To me this didn’t portend anything good. They had to have been forced to flee at great risk and what did that mean for Earth? Would the Masters know of this planet now?

  I let Dom tug me at his heels and I could hear Izzy clomping behind. We cut through the hallway on a collision course with the swinging door to the kitchen. Just as we burst through, tiles cracked and splintered from the counters. Heat burned my sinuses before Dominic flung himself around to force Izzy and me down as he did his best to shield our heads from flying glass.

  The stillness after the unexpected destruction was deafening. Shredded leaves and tomato guts littered the interior along with brick, wood shrapnel and sharp glass.

  My voice was loud inside and outside my head as I yelled into Dom’s dumbfounded face, “Where is Cyril?”

  A mound of debris shifted at the base of the island counter to reveal a pitch black hand. What I had thought were twisted, dirt coated vines from the garden were actually my father’s hair from his base form.

  Another movement from outside caught my eye even as I shoved past Dom and Iz to check on Cyril. Two figures crouched together, leaning their upper bodies against one another. Curling blond hair blew in the wind beside bright sleek purple strands. The female rose first. Far away as she was, her navy blue irises were intense.