by Ren Hamilton
Patrick sat on the floor and buried his face in his hands. Craig came over and sat down beside him. “Look, buddy, I am sorry about all of this. To be honest with you, I think it’s wrong too.”
Patrick looked up. “You do?”
“I have my regrets just like you do, but I also honor my agreements. I made a legitimate deal with Shep last year and I don’t go back on my word.”
Last year? The words fell on Patrick like concrete. “What do you mean you made a deal last year? What kind of deal?”
Craig eyed him strangely. “Well, the apparition of course. That’s when Shep first came to me about the project.”
Patrick’s stomach went cold. “That’s impossible. Shep just came up with the idea.”
Craig stared at him like he’d lost his faculties. “I’m beginning to understand now. They really left you in the dark, didn’t they?”
“What do you mean?”
Craig placed a hand on Patrick’s shoulder. “Patrick, did you really think we came up with that sophisticated a concept overnight? Do you know how expensive holographic imaging is? Shep funded the entire project. That kind of detail takes time and preparation. I’m good, but I’m not that good. I wish I were.”
Patrick’s head was swimming. “You’re telling me Shep has been planning this since last year?”
Craig looked sympathetic. “Yes. Maybe longer.”
Patrick’s head whirled with new confusion. He stood up and headed for the door. “I need a drink. Thank you for your time, Craig. Good luck in LA.”
Craig followed him out onto the porch. “You’ve always seemed like a nice guy, Patrick. Can I give you some advice?”
“Sure. Why not.”
“Stay away from Shepherd. He’s a slimy bastard. He always has been.”
Patrick turned away. “Thanks Craig, but that information might have been more useful to me ten years ago.”
Chapter Ten
The three brothers sat in awkward positions on the hardwood floor. The expansive room had been a study when Charles Duvaine was alive. It was more of a fancy sitting room now, sparsely furnished with Persian rugs and soft leather chairs and couches. The fireplace was stone, trimmed with the same shiny dark wood as the floor.
The brothers smiled when Shepherd entered the room, exposing dirty teeth inside their otherwise pretty mouths. They were not men. Not really. Being trapped in human form hadn’t exactly been their choice. Shep knew they quietly resented it, and therefore had no respect for the skin they were in. Bathing, grooming, and otherwise tending to their physical form would imply acceptance, something they weren’t ready for.
Staying filthy was a sort of rebellion for them, a silent protest. Shep had allowed it for a time, but now he had news for the little imps. Ready or not, it was time for them to become suitable members of society. Or at least a close facsimile thereof.
Shep stood before them, inspecting their grimy faces and dusty clothing. Their curly, chin length hair was matted and oily, their hands and feet blackened with dirt. Their disgraceful condition was his fault. With all the hoax preparations, he’d been crunched for time and had only been able to meet with them sporadically since their arrivals. Their appearance had grossly deteriorated.
He found them beautiful of course, despite their current state of degeneracy. Juris had hair so blond it was nearly white. Allisto’s hair was black as coal, when it wasn’t covered in dust. Margol was the most different of the three. His curls were the color of fire, a deep flaming orange. They looked up at him with innocent green eyes. The eyes were like Shep’s, though the brothers were not identical to him, or to each other. Each face was slightly different, granting them the gift of individuality.
“All of you listen up,” he said. “The time has come for you three to take a more active role in our project. I have assignments for each of you, but there are some ground rules we need to cover if you’re going to go unnoticed among the masses. You can start by sitting on the furniture.”
They glanced at each other. Juris, the platinum blond, was the sharpest of the three. If anything happened to Shep, Juris would become their leader. It was a frightening thought at the moment. Juris would become stronger with time, both mentally and physically, but like the others, he’d been through a trauma, and right now he could barely lead himself to the toilet. He had, just yesterday, urinated into the kitchen sink, causing Joey to nearly have a stroke.
Juris lifted himself awkwardly off the floor and shuffled over to a nearby armchair, sitting stiffly. He glanced down at Margol and Allisto, and motioned to them with his head. Following Juris’s lead, the other brothers stood and moved reluctantly to the couch.
“There. That’s better,” Shep said. “Now remember. You cannot sit on the floor if you’re in public. It draws attention. Get used to sitting on furniture at all times.”
“Il oblicheklata chask!” Juris spoke desperately in his native tongue. Shep crossed the room and slapped him hard in the face. He cried out, slinking back in the chair. Shep didn’t want to hurt them, but they had to learn and they had to learn fast. Their readjustment period would have to be shortened due to time restrictions.
“Rule number two!” Shep called out, holding up two fingers. “You will speak the languages. You all know the languages. This is English. This is the language that you will use at all times, especially in public.” Shep turned to the blond brother. “Now, Juris. Why don’t you repeat your last statement.”
Juris glared at him through a forest of white curls, green eyes raw with hurt. He rubbed the side of his face where Shep had slapped him. “I said one of us is missing.” Juris forced the words out in a strained fashion, sounding like a toddler just learning to speak.
Shep smiled. “Better, Juris. Much better. To address Juris’s concern, I am obviously aware that we are minus one. I couldn’t get Klee out on the first try. Not to worry. Nobody gets left behind. When the time is right, we will go back for Klee. Then we will be five again. As it should be.”
“We must wait for Klee!” Allisto said, teary eyed.
Allisto’s English was pretty good. Shep had even sent him out on assignments already. His dark black hair made him less noticeable than Margol and Juris, with their conspicuous red and platinum locks. Though a bit youthful looking, Allisto had been able to pass for a city vagrant. Shep felt confident sending Allisto into the city, despite his insistence that Obrien had noticed him on the train. Whether or not Obrien noticed Allisto made no difference. Obrien was too stupid to make any sort of connection.
“No, Allisto. Klee will be with us soon enough, but in the meantime we have work to do. I have no intentions on letting the three of you sit around picking bugs out of each other’s hair until Klee gets here.” Allisto looked about to cry, but he nodded sheepishly and slumped back on the couch.
“Okay then,” Shep said. “I have assignments for all, but we have to make humans out of you first. We’ve established that you will use furniture. You will speak this land’s languages. You will in no way draw attention to the fact that you are different. This means hiding your speed, your strength, and all other extraordinary abilities. You will keep a low profile and try to go unnoticed. And speaking of going unnoticed, there is one more thing…” He’d been dreading this part. He knew it was going to upset them. He stood before them, hands rested on his hips, chin tilted with authority. “You need to clean yourselves up.”
They looked terrified. You’d have thought he’d asked them to castrate themselves. Margol sputtered objections in broken English that Shep couldn’t help but find humorous. “We don’t need care to wash! The flesh keeping not necess…ness…not important!”
Shep laughed and Margol scowled. “Congratulations, Margol. That was almost a sentence. Don’t worry. The language will come back to you. In the meantime, try not to speak too much in public, okay?” Shep patted his head of fiery curls.
Allisto jumped off the couch, backing up frightfully. He grimaced, revealing teeth decorated with ch
ocolate cookies. Juris looked nervous but remained seated, watching the others. “We don’t want the shower!” Allisto said. “We are afraid.”
Shep rolled his eyes, breathing an exasperated sigh. “For the last time, the shower does not hurt. Do you think I would ask you to do something that would hurt you? You all need to just calm down and listen to me. You will take a bath. You will wash your hair. You will brush your teeth. I need to send you all into the city soon and you can’t go looking like pigs. It will draw attention. Do you understand?”
They stared at him but nobody moved. Allisto continued to slowly retreat behind the couch. Margol rocked nervously, cradling his own bare foot. Shep raised his eyebrows at them. “I see. You’d rather I sent you back where you came from?” Their eyes widened in terror, and Shep felt a stabbing pain in his heart. He hated using fear tactics. But if he didn’t toughen them up, they could get hurt. They could all get hurt, including Shep.
Juris jumped out of the chair. “No! We will not go back. We are part of the plan.”
“All right then!” Shep clapped his hands. “Everyone to the Jacuzzi room.”
Shep trotted enthusiastically toward the door but no one followed. He turned back expectantly. The brothers skulked by the couch. “What? Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re afraid of the Jacuzzi too.” They hung their heads. Shep decided that it was time for the positive reinforcement. He pulled three chocolate candy bars out of his shirt pocket. Their eyes lit with excitement. Since their arrival, the brothers found chocolate to be this world’s only redeeming value. Shep waved the candy bars in front of them. “Whoever takes a bath gets a chocolate bar.” They followed Shep to the Jacuzzi room with no further arguments.
Twenty minutes later, Joey walked into the room and was visibly horrified to see the three brothers sitting in the big tub, shampooing their hair. He looked at Shep, who stood to one side of the tub, supervising. “My father’s Jacuzzi!” he wailed.
Shep laughed. “It’s your Jacuzzi now, golden boy.”
Joey stared at the tub, his mouth agape. “My father’s Jacuzzi!” he repeated. “They were filthy! And you put them in my father’s Jacuzzi!”
“Take it easy, Joey. They’re afraid of the shower. I’ll clean the tub up afterward.”
Joey shook his head. “What’s next, Shep? Are you going to let them use my toothbrush?”
“I already did.”
“What?”
“I’m kidding, Joey. They have their own toothbrushes. Hey, lighten up, huh?”
Joey pointed to the dirty bubbling of suds spilling over the edges of the tub. “Oh, man! You’re not supposed to put soap in there!”
Margol flinched at Joey’s angry outburst. Shep glared at him. “Keep your voice down,” he said. “You’re scaring them.”
Joey laughed. “Oh, I’m scaring them, am I? I see. What I sacrificed to get them out of prison wasn’t enough. Now I have to walk on eggshells around them?”
Shep took Joey by the arm and led him out of the room. They stood in the hallway out of the brothers’ sight. “You need to lighten up on them. They’ll get sharper and adapt with time, but they’re very vulnerable right now.”
“I’m sorry, Shepherd, but you have to teach them to clean up after themselves. They’re disgusting! One of them pissed all over the wall in the third floor bathroom. And the blond one, Juris? He spilled chocolate sauce on the rug in the library. That’s an expensive rug, Shep!”
Shep grabbed Joey’s throat and lifted him off the floor, pinning him to the wall. “You’re worried about your rug, Joey? You’re worried about your fucking rug?”
Joey tried to pull loose. Shep slammed him against the wall, making him cry out. Holding Joey’s neck tight with one hand, he pointed toward the Jacuzzi room. “Do you see those three creatures in there? They’ve been locked away in a place that makes your worst nightmares look like Disney Land. They are the superior beings that are going to help us bring our plans to fruition. And furthermore, they are my family. So try and show some respect. Huh, Joey?”
“Yes,” Joey rasped. Shep dropped him.
Joey rubbed his neck, sucking in gulps of air. When he’d recovered, he climbed to his feet and looked Shep in the eye. “I never meant to insult you. Or them. But you’ve got to understand. This is all a little strange for me. You’ve been talking about them for so long, since we were kids. I guess part of me always believed they were fictional.”
Shep’s anger softened. “Well, as you can see, they are quite real.”
Joey nodded, frowning. “Yes. Quite.”
Shep rubbed his eyes then ran his fingers through his sandy curls. “Hey, I’m sorry I lost my temper, Joey. It’s the pressure, you know? Dealing with the brothers and Obrien abandoning us. All of it.”
“Obrien will come around,” Joey said.
Shep nodded. “Yeah. He’ll come around. I’ll go make margaritas. You in?”
“Sounds great. I’ll be right down.” Joey smiled.
Shep trotted down the stairs and Joey’s phony grin turned downward into a frown. He peeked back into the Jacuzzi room. The three brothers were taking the dirty water into their mouths and spitting it at each other playfully. Joey shook his head and walked out. “Superior beings my ass,” he said, and went down to join Shep.
Chapter Eleven
Patrick supposed Calvin thought it was helpful keeping him apprised of Joey’s online popularity. Patrick actually found it unsettling, but he didn’t say so. Cal was the only friend who still kept in touch with him, after all.
“The Pope got wind of the miracle and waved it off as a fake,” Calvin said.
Patrick snickered into the phone. “Well. Points for the Pope. What else?”
“Okay, let’s see what we’ve got here. Oh, here we go. Certain Christian groups are outraged at Joey. They feel that if the Virgin Mary saw fit to give Joey a message, then it’s his responsibility to share that message with the religious community. There’s an angry Reddit thread titled, ‘Tell us What She Said, Mr. Duvaine.’”
“Cute. But the coverage is dying out, right? I mean, people are losing interest in this.” Calvin was silent. Patrick felt his nerves start to dance. “Cal?”
“Yeah. People are losing interest. But I have a feeling that might change after tonight.”
“Why? What’s happening tonight?”
“You’re not going to like this, Obrien.”
“I already don’t like it. What’s up?”
“Spectrum asked Joey to do an interview.”
Patrick laughed. “Spectrum? You’re kidding.”
“Nope.”
Spectrum was one of those network programs that floated in journalistic limbo between a legitimate news medium and a gossip show. Although they occasionally uncovered a real breaking story, they also covered things like Hollywood actors’ breakups and botched plastic surgeries, so weren’t taken very seriously. How appropriate, Patrick thought, that a tabloid news program would take an interest in Joey. He was still chuckling when Calvin said, “Joey agreed to do it.”
Patrick froze. “What?”
“He’s done the interview. It’s airing tonight at six. I guess Tara Shane went out to Forest Bluffs and everything.”
Patrick went cold. Spectrum was a rag show, but it was national. It was one of those programs people loved to watch, but would never admit it to their friends. The interview would reach a wide audience.
“Patrick? Are you there?”
“Yeah. Are you telling me Joey is going on national television to lie his ass off?”
“I guess. Unless he’s planning to come clean.”
Patrick doubted that was the case. As soon as he hung up with Calvin, Kelinda called, all in a tizzy about the interview, and whether or not Joey planned to expose her. She’d grown increasingly paranoid as Joey’s popularity escalated, fearful that her father, a deacon at her church, would somehow discover her involvement in the hoax. He and Kelinda were officially dating now, and he’d have been thrilled if
not for her constant worry about being exposed. He was starting to get irritated with her implications that this was all about her. She seemed to ignore that he was the one who’d gotten his damned picture in the paper and lost his job.
Regardless, he made plans to meet Kelinda at Monty’s Bar and Grill to watch the interview. They’d tossed around the idea of boycotting it, but in the end they both agreed that they had to see it, regardless of how disturbing it was sure to be.
* * * *
They were seated at the bar with a plate of chicken wings in front of them. Patrick had a baseball cap pulled down over his forehead, in case he was recognized. So far this hadn’t been a problem. Except for his size, he was pretty much a blender. They ordered beers and Trent the bartender agreed to air the program on the pub’s many big screens.
Patrick drank his beer too fast as he watched the silent intro to the program, the words drowned out by the bar noise. The pretty blonde reporter stood in front of an iron gate with the late Charles Duvaine’s beach house looming in the background. The caption read ‘Forest Bluffs Massachusetts’.
“Trent, this is it,” Patrick yelled. “Turn it up!”
Trent hit the volume and Tara Shane’s voice vibrated into the room. They’d missed most of the introduction, and suddenly Joey was on the screen.
“Oh my God,” Kelinda said. “There he is.”
Patrick’s stomach tightened. Joey looked amazing, even more handsome than usual, maybe aided by makeup and good lighting for the program. Tara Shane had him set up in the cozy dark wood room that had been his father’s study. He sat beside the stone fireplace in a burgundy leather chair like he was about to give a presidential address. Megalomaniac, Patrick thought spitefully. It was always Shep who’d harbored the big ego, with Joey the humbler of the two, but recent events had Patrick rethinking this.
