His Kiss of Darkness

by Boye Kody - The Kaldr Chronicles 2

  “I’m not afraid of you, Jason. Like I said—accidents happen. We were just lucky we were on the ranch, otherwise…” He trailed off, eyes shying away from my face.

  “Guy?”

  “Otherwise,” he continued, “we would’ve been in some major shit.” He sighed and extended his hand. “Come on. You need to rest.”

  “What about you?” I asked, reaching forward to grasp his hand. I was not surprised at how weak either of our grips were.

  “I’ll be fine,” he said, helping me to my feet. “Don’t worry about me.”

  With his help, I made my way into the bedroom some ten feet away.

  After ridding myself of my shirt and stepping out of my jeans, I slid into bed, drew the blankets around myself, and closed my eyes.

  The room was cold, and my heart felt frozen.

  Was this the nature of my condition?

  Was, finally, my body no longer human?

  Some hours after I’d fallen asleep—during which time the sun had set and was now only briefly visible beyond the hills—I dressed in the clothes I’d worn earlier that day and wandered into the flat, unsure of Guy’s location or whether or not he was even here. My head ached, my muscles groaned. A quick glance at the clock showed it was almost seven. It’d be dark within the next half-hour.

  “Where are you?” I asked the empty and painfully-silent room.

  It was unlike him to leave without mention. He’d always leave notes, or shake me awake to tell me where he was going. But this…this was different.

  Had he run away?

  Could he not face what he’d inadvertently done?

  There was only one way to find out.

  Though aware that I would be locked out of the flat once I left, I stepped forward, undid the deadbolt, then flipped the lock on the doorknob to make sure the quarters were secure before slipping out.

  The house was quiet, lonely, as if aware the day was over and that help or business would no longer be walking through the front doors. The old stairs creaked upon my descent and the walls echoed their laborious effort. My heart—pained already by the events of the day but wracked by the unease of Guy’s departure—weighed heavy in my chest. It wasn’t until I landed on the ground floor and turned to look into the kitchen that I found Amadeo: lost in his place at the window and the sight of the last Kaldr leaving the fields.

  I knocked on the doorframe. “Amadeo?” I asked.

  The Spaniard turned to face me. “Jason,” he said, the slightest hint of a smile curling his otherwise-emotionless lips. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better,” I lied, not wanting to fall into a conversation about my own condition. “Do you know where Guy is?”

  “Last I saw he was working the fields. He said he wanted to take his mind off things.”

  “Is he all right?”

  Amadeo didn’t respond. Instead, a sigh parted his lips and his shoulders rose and fell with it. “He was fine,” the man replied. “Guilty, of course, about the events that took place, but otherwise in good spirits.”

  “What about his hand?”

  “Fully regenerated with no issues.”

  “Thank God.” I stepped through the threshold and began to approach Amadeo, but stopped as I neared the island. Instead, I slipped my hands into my pockets and remained there, watching the eastern horizon grow progressively darker and wondering just what the hell I was going to do.

  “Your position isn’t an enviable one,” Amadeo said after several long moments of silence.

  “What?” I asked, blinking.

  “Most wouldn’t even consider what you are about to do,” Amadeo said, turning to face me with sad eyes. “Escaping death, only to rush back toward it. Sacrificing yourself, even when the one you love is willing to exchange his life for your salvation. Your honor…it…it is almost beyond comprehension. Not many are as selfless as you.”

  “This isn’t Guy’s fault.”

  “No, but he feels the circumstance was within his control. Your refusal of his offering…” Amadeo smiled. “It is something you do not often see amongst people so proud.”

  I started to speak, but stopped, unsure what to say. On one hand, he’d insulted me and my place among the Kaldr, but on the other…he didn’t seem displeased. No. If anything, Amadeo appeared content.

  Knowing that such a declaration didn’t require, or need, a response, I nodded and waited for him to continue.

  “Beyond exposing your body to stress,” Amadeo said, “there is little more anyone can teach you. The Kaldr are not imbued with supernatural strength or immune to physical harm. We are simply men who walked down the mountains and parted the storms in our wake.”

  “I know,” I said. “I understand.”

  “Elliot has sent a dispatch of Kaldr to try and determine where Pierre and the Hill Country Howlers are located. Chances are, they haven’t left the state, and if they’re lucky, they haven’t migrated east.”

  “Why?”

  “Because the closer they are to civilization, the harder it will be to properly infiltrate their den.” Amadeo turned to face me. “This isn’t anything to be concerned over. Right now, all you have to focus on is improving your abilities to ensure the greatest chance of survival. You can worry about where the Howlers are once we’ve located them.”

  “Yes sir.”

  “Now go. Rest. I will let Guy know you were looking for him.”

  I needed no further instruction.

  I rounded the corner and started for the stairs, but stopped. “Amadeo?” I asked.

  “Yes?” the man replied.

  “Uh…I need a key. I’m locked out.”

  “Speak no further,” the Spaniard smiled.

  “I’m sorry you woke up without me here,” Guy said as he stepped into the flat. “I didn’t want to wake you after what you’d been through.”

  I nibbled on my piece of jam-covered toast and nodded. “It’s ok,” I said. “Don’t worry about it.”

  Guy secured the door and flipped the locks with ease. After snarling the chain into its run, he joined me at the kitchen table, where he settled his elbows firmly onto its surface before leaning forward to look at me. “Hey,” he said, tilting his head down to meet my eyes. “You feeling all right?”

  “I’m fine,” I said, swallowing. “I was worried about you.”

  “Amadeo said,” Guy replied. “But it wasn’t me you should’ve been worried about.”

  “I gave you gangrene.”

  “No. You froze my flesh. Yes it looked like gangrene, but no you didn’t give it to me.”

  “Either way,” I said, setting the piece of half-eaten toast on my plate, “it isn’t exactly anything I’d wanted to see, especially on my boyfriend.”

  Guy sunk his teeth into his lower lip and narrowed his eyes, likely expecting me to continue. When I didn’t, he shook his head and ran a hand across his sweat-covered face. “Look,” he said. “I’m sorry I pushed you too far. In that regard, I take all the blame. But regardless of whatever credit you’re trying to take, let’s just agree the whole thing was an accident. Nothing more, nothing less. Ok?”

  I nodded—this time without argument.

  “This is the situation,” Guy continued. “You’re sick. That spell could’ve killed you. You’re a lot more vulnerable now than you would ever be as a regular Kaldr. Your body’s fighting an infection it has no chance in winning without killing and eating parts of Pierre.”

  “Don’t remind me,” I grumbled. The toast now unappetizing.

  “We need a game plan.”

  “You mean I do,” I corrected.

  “Either way,” he pressed on, as if ignoring my previous statement, “we need to figure out how we’re going to get you in there.”

  It took all I could muster to keep from uttering a response. He didn’t get it—he just didn’t. Regardless of whatever ‘foolproof’ plan we came up with, there was still a chance I wouldn’t walk out of there. I knew the risks. Death was possible—inevitable
if I didn’t play my cards right. Having Guy along with me would only bring about further complications. He didn’t want to consider that, though, so for now, I’d accept his involvement. I nodded to indicate my understanding as he rose and stalked toward the wide window.

  “There’s people already looking for them,” Guy said.

  “Do we have a loophole?” I asked.

  “You mean for when they find them? Yeah. We do.”

  “What is it?”

  “You’ll challenge Pierre for control of the pack.”

  I swallowed. “What?”

  “It’s not uncommon for Howlers to contest the rule of their alphas,” Guy explained. “Like wolves, they establish hierarchy based on who’s the strongest. It’s perfectly reasonable for you to step forward and contest his reign.”

  “But Guy... I’m not a Howler.”

  “Wrong. You are a Howler, at least in part. And since a member of Pierre’s pack infected you, you have the right, under Howler law, to challenge him to combat.”

  It wasn’t a notion easily swallowed. Even when armed with silver bullets the creatures were a force to be reckoned with. All teeth, fast as a wildcat and with the striking force of a truck—it was an inconceivable wonder that I’d made it out of their compound alive, let alone with only a bite. I could’ve been torn to shreds. If it hadn’t been for Pierre—

  I grimaced at the thought of that Howler’s jaws sinking into my flesh.

  How could I—an abomination with less than two weeks of training—hope to kill someone like Pierre?

  “Guy?” I asked. “How am I gonna do this?”

  “We’ll find a way,” he said.

  It was blood that came out when I stumbled into the bathroom and vomited in the toilet.

  Cold, alone, in the dead of night—Guy would never hear my struggle. He was too far gone to be pulled from the depths of sleep.

  As I knelt there, struggling to maintain my composure and breathe through the blood and panic, I could only think one thing:

  I’m dying.

  There was no denying it. My body—having fallen prey to infection—was attempting to purge itself of what it felt to be the weaker strain. The Howler, infecting; the Kaldr, regenerating—a war unlike any that had ever raged through my body. This wasn’t the Revolution, the Crusades, the Battle of Waterloo or Desert Storm. This was contagion—the constant reproduction of cells that wished to overwhelm a body desperate to fight off a foreign host.

  I gasped, convulsed.

  My fingers slipped.

  I fell and spat blood along the toilet

  I lay there, trembling, as I waited for the spell to pass, barely able to discern the shapes of objects within the room. My eyes watered and the acrid stench of bodily fluids permeated the air as I struggled to draw breath.

  This wasn’t what I’d expected.

  I wasn’t told it would happen so quickly

  “Jason?” I heard Guy ask from outside the room. “Are you all right?”

  “Something’s wrong,” I managed, only just managing the strength to pull myself to my knees and flush the toilet. “Get the healer.”

  “What’re you—”

  I turned my head.

  Guy gave no response.

  He simply ran.

  “Well,” the doctor who had treated me after my near-fatal encounter with Missy Sue said, drawing a popsicle stick from my mouth and shining a penlight at my eye. “It’s happening.”

  “What is?” Guy asked.

  “The infection.”

  The kindly African Kaldr within whom I placed all my trust drew back and continued to write notes along her clipboard. Eyes dark, lips pursed, she didn’t say anything for several minutes. When she finally did, she let out a heavy sigh before lifting her head to face me. “Jason.”

  “Yes?” I asked, struggling to maintain my composure.

  “If the disease continues to progress at this rate, you’ll be dead within a month.”

  A gut-wrenching pain struck me. I tried to speak—or, at the very least, breathe—but couldn’t. Instead, all I managed was a wheeze.

  “What?” Guy asked after the initial shock wore off, freeing his hand from my grasp to step forward. “What’re you talking about?”

  “His natural regenerative processes are being shut down by the contagion coursing through his bloodstream. In other words: it’s breaking down his cells. All of them.”

  “How does that explain his stomach? The blood?”

  “It’s attacking his immune system. We don’t know how exactly it works, but it seems like…” She paused. “It appears as though his body is destroying itself in an effort to combat the virus.”

  “Goddammit, Faith!” Guy cried, slamming his fist down on a nearby medical tray. “English, PLEASE!”

  “How else can I explain it?” she barked, stepping back. “He’s dying, Guy. If something isn’t done soon…I don’t think anything can be.”

  “That’s bullshit!”

  Compared to him, Faith appeared no more than a mouse at the foot of Mount Vesuvius. I knew nothing of her background, her nature, whether fight or flight would dominate her reaction to a man almost three times her size advancing upon her. The tension was thick—palpable enough for a knife to free slivers of it from the air—and though I couldn’t see his face, I knew what happened next could be explosive.

  I stepped off the examination table.

  Guy backed Faith into a wall.

  I reached out and touched his back just as he reached out to grab her. “Stop,” I said.

  The rigidity of his shoulders dissipated.

  The air lightened.

  Faith’s eyes—wide with caution—returned to their usual state. “Get him away from me,” she growled.

  I tugged him back by the tail of his shirt and made sure to position myself between the two. By the time I finally caught a look at Guy’s face, his expression was that of absolute terror. He wasn’t angry—he was frightened.

  “Now,” Faith said, straightening the collar of her jacket before settling her gaze on me. “Jason.”

  “Yes,” I said, pressing a hand against Guy’s hard stomach to hold him back.

  “Though I am aware that Amadeo and Elliot Winters sent men into the field to search for the Hill Country Howlers, I do not know the status of their mission. I am aware, however, that your deteriorating condition will only continue to worsen as the days progress.”

  I swallowed, forcing a nod.

  Faith brushed a hand along her short, bristly hair and pushed her gaze past me, though whether or not she was looking at Guy I couldn’t tell. “From what little we understand about your condition,” she began, “we know that it attacks the immune system and breaks it down over a course of several weeks. Loss of muscle control, lack of cognition, amnesia, dementia, paralysis, insanity—these are all symptoms associated with the infection. What we are not aware of, however, is if the ailments follow a particular sequence.”

  “So I could be struck with anything,” I said.

  “At any time,” she added. “This is what makes cross-species infection so dangerous, and why it usually kills its victims very quickly. You are lucky to have not suffered more serious injury. Any worse and you would probably be dead.”

  “So what are we supposed to do?” Guy asked. “Wait for the Kaldr to find the Howlers? That could take weeks.”

  “I know,” Faith replied. “Which is why I would like to test a theory.”

  I frowned. The hint of a smile and a glimmer of mischief lit her eyes as she turned, crossed the room, and began to rummage through a series of number of lockers where it appeared cadavers would be stored. It took several minutes for her to come to any definitive stop, but when she finally did, she lifted a hand and gestured us forward with two fingers.

  “After you were attacked by Missy Sue,” Faith said, “Elliot Winters thought it best that I destroy the body in order to maintain civility between the Winters Kaldr and the Hill Country Howlers. I agre
ed, but what I never revealed was that I returned false ashes.”

  “You mean—” Guy started.

  Faith opened the locker.

  The stench of death poured out.

  I turned, retched, and nearly threw up. “You,” I choked out, “kept her?”

  “I was of the opinion that maintaining a Howler corpse would allow us a better understanding of their people,” she replied. “Professionally speaking, of course.”

  I gagged. Guy dragged me to my feet and forced me to look into the darkened recesses of the locker, though thankfully the lighting offered little to go upon.

  “But why?” Guy asked. “Why go behind my father’s back to keep Missy Sue’s corpse?”

  “Your father has done many great things for me,” Faith said. “It was because of him that my great-great grandmother escaped slavery, and that I am alive today. But let’s be honest—your father is a stubborn man, and he is ill-equipped to deal with Howlers should they come knocking at his door.”

  “That doesn’t explain—”

  “Why I did it?” she smiled. “Simple: they wouldn’t have been able to identify the corpse. Jason crushed her skull, effectively stripping her of an identity. So when I was given clearance to cremate the body, I substituted the cadaver.”

  “What did you give them?” I asked.

  “A deer,” she replied.

  “And they fell for that?” Guy snorted. “You’re joking.”

  “I’m not.” She turned her eyes into the locker. “Call it a hunch, but…something told me she had a greater purpose. And it turns out she does.”

  “Your theory,” Guy continued. “What does it entail?”

  “Each pack has a signature scent,” Faith said. “If my theory is correct…Jason, as part Howler, should be able to locate her.”

  “Oh God,” I said, fighting back the urge to hurl. “You mean I have to—”

  “Yes, Jason. You’ll have to smell the corpse.”

  This time, I couldn’t stop it. I turned and spit up all over the floor.

  “Are you sure that’ll even work?” Guy asked after I finished audibly expressing my distaste. “I mean…she’s been dead for…how long?”

  “She’s been refrigerated—and, as you can tell, she is still very fresh.”