Heavy Metal Heartbeat

by Ambear Shellea

  He shook the flimsy films.

  “Look closer, Anna. Don’t you see? The markings!” He pointed at the x-ray again. “Right here, there is a circle or something and it’s about the size of my hand, embedded on his ribs.”

  She yanked them from his grasp. Jaxson examined them with her. Her eyes darted across the page, quickly taking in all the details. The markings were there, clear and noticeable. Realizing whose x-ray she held, she gasped. Her dumbfounded gaze slid to the good doctor.

  “What does that mean?”

  He looked as dumbfounded as she did.

  “I was going to ask you the same question,” Dr. Phillips replied. “It was there before he was injured and now it is gone, so, I ask again, what did you do?”

  She eyed the doctor, weighing her decisions.

  I have known him my whole life. Should I just play dumb? Can I trust him with the truth?

  Inhaling the calmness of lavender-scented air, she prepared to bare it all.

  Sebastian’s voice filled the room with cryptic words.

  “Anna, you think it wise for the unknowing to be with the knowing?”

  She shot him a glare. “Sebastian, always with the secrets?”

  “Anna, there is a reason for secrets, and you would do well to accept that.”

  Dr. Phillips interjected. “As Ozzie's physician, I need to know what happened to him. Where is he?”

  Speak of the devil.

  Ozzie burst through the room in usual Ozzie style, ripped jeans and no shirt. Paige was at his side, her huge diamond sparkling in the light and dancing along the walls. Anna shared a look and a smile with Paige, congratulating her with her eyes.

  “Doc, are you…”

  The entire room gasped as he entered the room.

  “The markings...” Before she could say anything else, Ozzie yelled.

  “Everybody, down, now!”

  Anna, along with everyone else, dropped to the floor. Her eyes darted around the room and everyone seemed to scatter across her carpet, cautious and confused. The only one who seemed more than a little shook up was the doctor, who had his hands protecting his head, shaking slightly.

  Chapter 4

  Ozzie dove to the floor, pulling Paige with him. His skin scraped across the carpet as a wooden arrow shot through the glass and stuck in the wall right where Sebastian’s head would have been.

  “Nobody move! I recognize that arrow.” Everyone’s gaze was upon him as he stood from the floor. He turned back to look into Paige’s big blue eyes when she grabbed his arm.

  “It’s OK. I promise he won’t hurt me.” He rubbed his hand gently down the side of her face. “Trust me.”

  He stared directly through the window at the old man. The bow was still in his hand as he stood in the front yard. A Dungaree shirt fit tightly over his broad shoulders, Camouflage pants covered his long legs and boots. An ammo and gun belt was wrapped around his tapered waist and was equipped with two pistols. All of that, along with the man's aged face wearing a proud grin as it always did, made him smile when the man spoke.

  “Ozzie, is that you, my dear boy?”

  “Yes, Dad, it is. You can drop the bow.”

  “Dad?” He heard Anna’s voice say.

  “No, thank you, Son. I think I’ll keep it if you don’t mind.”

  This is ridiculous.

  He wrenched open the front door and walked out onto the porch.

  “Dad―”

  “Step aside, Son. I can smell the vermin in that house. Are you hurt? Are they letting you go and will they let the other human go as well?”

  Other human…the doctor.

  “No one is in danger here. They are my friends.”

  He saw the look of disgust cross his father’s face.

  Damn, I should have told him sooner. Just what I need right now, one more thing to worry about.

  “What are you doing here?” Ozzie asked.

  “I can answer that.”

  His gaze followed the good doctor as he stood up and walked in his direction.

  “I called him.”

  Turning his back to his father, he glared at the doctor.

  “Why would you do that?” He noticed the doctor looked as if he might back down but didn’t.

  “You were dying. He is listed as your next of kin. It was my job to call him.”

  “We’ll talk about this later!” He turned back to his father. “Dad, are you going to come in? No one is going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

  “I’ll come in. I will leave the bow, but I’m not leaving my gun.” He tossed his hands in the air in a give-up fashion momentarily.

  “As you wish, but you won’t need it.”

  “We'll see,” his father said, setting the bow on the porch and unlatching his .45 pistol.

  He moved from the doorway and followed the doctor and his father into the house. He closed the door and rushed past his father, ushering him to the couch.

  “Have a seat.” He eyed each of his friends. “Give him some room. He’s…jumpy.”

  His father’s tone, laced with disappointment, caught his attention and he noticed his father's pistol gripped in his right hand, safety off.

  “I raised you better than this, Son. Since when do you hang out with the very creatures you were raised to hunt? Have you forgotten your duties? It’s a good thing I showed up, no telling what they might do to you.”

  “We would never hurt Ozzie. We all love him. I’m in love with him.”

  Her soft skin brushed his when she went to move past him as she spoke. He reached back, keeping his gaze on his father, and stopped her from advancing.

  “Paige, stay where you are, please.”

  Emotions and colors seemed to pass over his father’s face as recognition kicked in. He answered his father’s unspoken question.

  “Yes, Father, that is my fiancée, Paige. You have talked with her several times on the phone.” Pushing his boundaries, he introduced the rest of the group. “The other woman is Anna, Paige’s best friend. On her left is Jaxson, whom you have also had phone conversations with, and on her right is–”

  “Sebastian! “ His father growled through gritted teeth. “I vowed to kill you the next time we crossed paths.”

  Ozzie swallowed the nervous lump in his throat and placed a firm hand on the man’s chest, pleading with him.

  “Father, no. He is a friend of Anna’s, and this is her house.”

  His heart, a wounded sinking ship, weighed upon him as his father’s disapproving glare bore into him.

  “Father, please!”

  He counted his breaths as he waited for his response.

  Please let him see reason. I don't want to have to fight my father.

  A sigh of relief washed through him just as resolve flashed across his father’s face. He dropped his hands an inch and…movement.

  The room erupted with smoke and screams. He tackled his father, pinning him down and ripped the gun from his hand. Frustration had taken its toll.

  “That is enough! Everyone stop, just stop, dammit!”

  He stood, breathing hard and towering over the man on the floor, his gaze quickly sweeping the room. Jaxson had Anna in his arms as if to shield her from the chaos. Sebastian leaned nonchalantly on a door frame and Paige had the doctor back in the floor, his face buried in the carpet unwillingly, keeping him safe.

  “Is anyone hurt?” No one answered. “I said is anyone hurt? Answer me!” A collective no filled the air. “Fine.”

  He offered his father a hand and motioned for him to have a seat. “Please sit down, Father. I promise I will explain it all. I told you, you are safe. No one is here to harm anyone.”

  His father sat down on the couch at long last. He slowed his breathing and tried to think. Raking his hands through his hair, he closed his eyes for a moment before taking in every eye in the room. Everyone seemed to be holding their breath and waiting on his orders. Old man Zane was the first to break the silence with his shaky words.

>   “Son, what have you become?”

  He opened his mouth to answer and so did everyone else.

  “Human!”

  “Vampire!”

  “Wolf!”

  “Hunter!”

  “All of the above?”

  “I have no damn idea, that’s why I’m here!”

  Dear God, this is going to be one hell of a day!

  Taking a deep breath, Ozzie shouted once again. “Shut up!” Turning to the group he said, “Wait, who said vampire and wolf?”

  “I did,” Anna and Paige said in unison.

  “Well, you’re wrong, Paige. He is not a wolf,” Anna said.

  “No, you’re wrong!” Paige snapped back at Anna.

  “I’m telling you, Paige, you’re wrong! Remember what you asked me to–” Anna tried to explain loudly.

  He had had enough and cut her off.

  “For the sake of sanity, everybody shut the hell up and sit down!”

  To his surprise, they all did. Anna and Jaxson sat at the kitchen table. Sebastian meandered into a dark corner. The doctor and Paige sat in the lounge chairs.

  “OK, first thing is first.” He turned to his father. “You’re here because the doc told you I was dying. Why are you not at the hospital? How did you know to come here?”

  “The head nurse said the doc was here and so were you. She gave me directions. She said she knew Anna very well. I bet she doesn’t know what she is.”

  Why is my father lying to me? It's not all a lie, but his truth is laced with deception, Ozzie thought.

  “What Anna is or isn’t, is irrelevant at this moment.” He turned to the doctor. “Why are you here? I know that you brought the x-rays, but how did you know I was still alive?”

  “I wagered a good guess. Sebastian tried to compel me when they left with you from the hospital. I played along, because at that moment I knew what he was. Honestly, I wasn’t sure you would be alive. I feared he would turn you and Anna. That’s why I came by.”

  “OK, but we left the hospital three days ago. Why show up now if you were so worried?”

  The color drained from the man’s face. He heard the doctor’s heart beating against his chest, and small beads of sweat covered his brow. He smelled the truth on his lips when he opened his mouth to speak.

  “I’m sorry, Ozzie. Please forgive me.”

  Have I missed something? Ozzie thought.

  “Forgive you for what?”

  It was his father who answered.

  “For the team of hunters down the street. I passed them when I came in. They assembled because the good doctor here called them. That’s why I fired the bow first and was prepared to answer questions later.”

  “Where did you get a team of hunters?” Ozzie asked.

  “It’s your team.”

  He turned to Paige with his hand out. “Phone!”

  He watched as the iPhone seemed to slowly float through the air. When it was an inch from his face, he swung his hand and the cool metal came to rest in his hands. He slid his finger across the screen and dialed the number. Three rings sounded in his ear before someone answered.

  “Thomas, take your team and go home. The man that drove up is my father. Everything is fine. I will call you later.” He ended the call just as quickly as he had caught the phone. It landed softly on the couch next to his father when he tossed it.

  He motioned back to the doctor.

  “You were saying before something about some markings? Is that just made up as well?”

  “No! The markings are real, and I think I know why they disappeared from your ribs.”

  “And why is that?”

  The whole room gasped a second time, as if the oxygen had been pulled from the air. His father’s voice broke through first.

  “No! Son, what have you done?”

  He followed his father’s shocked gaze.

  What the...how? A tattoo?

  As if he could feel it, he ran his hand across his chest. He dropped his head and tried to see the markings upon his skin. The room before him shook and his breath caught in his throat.

  A Tattoo! When did that happen? What the hell went on while I was out?

  Slowly, he ran his fingers across the ink. It looked almost familiar. It was an elaborate, braided chain forming a perfect circle. A childhood memory flashed behind his eyes:

  A young, scrawny dark-haired boy darted across the yard. He seemed to be heading toward the large Irish cottage. White paint covered the sturdy frame and walls. The roof looked like it was in need of minor repairs as did the old front door the boy dashed through. Warmth from the fire hugged his skin like a cozy blanket as he walked across the small living room.

  “There you are, Oliver. Did you have fun with the local boys?”

  His eyes were immediately fixed on the old woman swaddled by blankets, sitting in an old rocking chair. Her skin was wrinkled and her hair was gray, but her smile lit up the room and her eyes seemed to dazzle in the firelight. Smiling at her, he rushed across the room in her direction. He managed to maneuver his awkward boney self into the lap of his grandmother. Nuzzling close and burying himself in her arms and blankets, he answered her question.

  “Yes, Grandmother, I did.”

  “Well, I am glad you have enjoyed your visit. You know your father will be here tomorrow to pick you up and take you home.”

  He leaned up and looked at her. “Do I have to go? Can’t I stay with you here in Ireland?”

  “What would you do about school, Oliver?”

  “I could go to school here. I don’t want to leave. I will miss you. I love you.”

  He snuggled closer and deeper into the folds of his grandmother and her many blankets as she hugged him close.

  “I love you too, Oliver Markus Zane. I want to give you something.”

  He squirmed out of her hold a bit while she moved her hand from the piles of fabric. She unfastened a small, leather, braided bracelet and latched it onto his arm.

  “Your grandfather made this for me many years ago. I want you to have it. It will protect you.”

  His face sported a funny expression.

  “Grandma, how is a bracelet going to protect me? Only girls wear bracelets.”

  Worn, braided, brown leather traced in gold encircled his wrist. He closed his eyes as his grandmother hugged him close once more.

  “Trust an old woman, it will protect you. Your father used to have one of these bracelets, too.”

  As he came back to reality, he absent-mindedly rubbed the bare wrist where the old leather had left a ghostly lingering sensation at the sudden memory.

  I love you too, Grandma. I miss you every day.

  His eyes shot to the mirror hanging behind the couch and his hands stopped on the green, braided Celtic shamrock outlined in gold in the center. This time the vision of his mother and sister flashed behind his eyes.

  “Ozzie, would you please come down here and grab some more wood for the fire? Your sister and I are getting cold and your father is not home yet.”

  He closed the math book he had been studying when he heard his mother’s request. With his eyes closed, he ran his hands through his hair and took a deep breath.

  Glad for the break. I need it.

  He glanced over to the small clock that sat on the corner of his desk.

  Wow, I have been at this for four hours. Yes, it is time for a break.

  “I’ll be right there, Mother.”

  He shuffled to his feet and stretched his tight muscles.

  Oh, that feels good.

  He ambled across the room and headed down the stairs. Halfway down, he spotted his sister, Loraina, and his mother sitting at the dining room table. Streams of ribbon and piles upon piles of string and leather lay scattered across the table.

  Confused, he asked, “What are the two of you doing?”

  His mother looked up from her work and over the top of her glasses and smiled sweetly as she dropped her hands in her lap. His sister spun in her chair and
answered first.

  “We are making Celtic knots, silly.”

  “Celtic knots?”

  “Is your head in the clouds? Celtic knots, the shape of a shamrock…you know, part of the family crest…”

  “Family Crest?”

  Part of the family crest,… he thought as he came out of his reverie. He refocused on the shamrock once more. All the braided lines of green and gold seemed to twist and fold on and around the shamrock only to lead to the center, where a dime-sized ruby sat. The red in the ruby pulsed with life and flowed around the design like blood through veins. He stared at the tear-shaped ruby and swore it was beating, matching the rhythm of his heart―slow and steady. He touched each of the small markings inside the circle surrounding the shamrock.

  In between the braided circle and the shamrock were four markings spaced like the sides of a compass in a cross pattern. At the top were a set of fangs, the tips colored red. At the bottom was a pair of gold animal eyes. To the left were five small, silver stars, and on the right was a misshapen frame of a human outlined in black.

  What do those represent?

  He glanced back at his father’s shocked expression as he continued to stare at the new markings on his skin. His father's trembling words were like daggers in the heart.

  “You have been marked, Son. By what, I do not know.”

  He felt his father’s touch on his chest. He ran his hands over the tattoo as he explained it.

  “This outer staggered circle here, the outside, it represents the universe. It encompasses us all. These fangs here at the top in the center, these represent the vampires. Directly down from that, the animal eyes, they represent the werewolf. To the left, the stars, that is for the witches, and straight across to the right, this blurred human-looking symbol, this represents the spirits of the undead.

  Here in the center of it all is a family crest; the braided clover of our ancestors. This is our family’s secret, out in the open, a curse to us and a curiosity to everyone else. This tattoo proves two things: you are from noble hunter bloodlines, and, among us, are a fallen soldier. It is proof that you have been touched by the supernatural and come out the other side…but at what cost? At what cost, my son?”