by Ren Hamilton
“That was a kiss. Kelinda kisses Joey.”
Russell laughed. “Kelinda does a lot more than that to Joey.”
“What else does she do?” Klee asked.
Russell almost got up and left. This felt wrong. Something about Klee wasn’t quite…normal. He knew he wasn’t mentally challenged, because he’d been watching him. Klee had trounced Joey at chess and other games, which seemed to make Duvaine furious. And earlier in the week Russell had wandered into the den to find Klee watching a documentary on the solar system. Klee had casually detailed to Russell the various aspects of the documentary that were off base, and proceeded to share his knowledge of black holes in a way that made Russell’s eyes glaze over and tied his brain in a knot.
But even so, Klee didn’t quite seem…all there. He should leave him be. But then he thought of Shep’s comment. Get away from me you fucking parasite! Rage burned inside him anew. So instead of leaving, Russell moved his hand up Klee’s thigh and slid his fingers onto the soft flesh of his penis, fondling him gently.
To his surprise and delight, Klee immediately began to stiffen under his touch. He didn’t seem accustomed to the sensation. He gasped and a look of panic fell over his face. Was it possible that Klee had never been touched? “What is this?” Klee said, panting. “What do you do to me?”
“I’m showing you how to be more human,” Russell said. He ran his free hand through Klee’s curls, a gesture he had so longed to do to Shep. On one hand, Russell felt that he was doing something wrong. Klee seemed so genuinely innocent. But this was no child, after all. They were two consenting adults. Even if this was a sexual awakening, it was Klee’s choice. “Do you like it?” Russell asked, as he made his movements more rhythmic. “I’ll stop if you want me to. Just say the word. It’s your choice.”
Klee gasped again. “No. Yes. I do not know. This is human?”
“Yes,” Russell whispered in his ear, taking in the fragrant aroma of his hair.
Klee’s lashes fluttered. “This is…I do not hate this.”
“I can do something for you Klee. Something that’s even better than this. But you have to come to my room, and you can’t tell Shep about it.”
Klee pushed Russell’s hand away. “That is not possible. I have to tell Shepherd everything.”
Panic rose in Russell’s gut. Would Klee tell Shep about this? “Klee, you can’t tell him. Don’t you see? Shep will be angry if he knows that I’m the one who taught you. Do you understand?”
Klee shook his head. “No, Russell. You must never lie to Shepherd.”
“We’re not lying, Klee. We’re just not volunteering information. Do you see the difference?”
Before Klee could answer, the door swung open and Patrick Obrien stepped into the room, wearing shorts and a tee shirt, a towel draped over his shoulder. He stopped dead when he saw the tub was occupied, then his eyes narrowed as his gaze fell upon Russell.
Russell quickly moved away from Klee. Patrick glared at him. Russell had thought that perhaps he didn’t like Patrick, but now he was sure of it. The big Irish lug had but two expressions—he either looked pissed off or confused. Right now, he looked pissed off. He walked over to the tub and grabbed Russell by the arm, pulling him out and tossing him onto the floor. “Get the fuck away from him, Russell!”
Russell struggled to pull on his discarded underwear. “Obrien, it’s not what you think.”
Patrick loomed over him like a big red ball of fury, his well-formed biceps bulging. “I’ll tell you what I think. I think it’s time you got a boyfriend and stopped wasting your time on people who don’t want you.”
“How do you know who wants me and who doesn’t?”
“I know your brother Craig said you only want what’s unattainable. But this?” He pointed to Klee. “Stay the fuck away from him!”
Klee huddled in the corner of the tub, looking frightened and slightly ashamed.
“Why?” Russell demanded, his anger taking over. “Because I’m gay? Is that it? Are you homophobic, Obrien?”
“Oh please. Don’t pull that shit on me. This isn’t about sexual orientation and you know it. If it were Kelinda in that tub groping him I’d have done the same thing to her. He doesn’t understand this!” Patrick said, gesturing to Russell’s scantily clad body. “He’s in no condition to give informed consent. A moron could see that, and you’re no moron, Russell.”
Russell was about to argue, then thought better of it. Klee’s naivety was startlingly obvious, and he’d been wrong to pursue him. However, Obrien was still all red and scary looking, so Russell went another route. “I never touched him! Klee, tell him. I never touched you, right?”
Patrick knelt down next to Klee. Klee looked terrified. “It’s all right Klee, it doesn’t matter what happened. No one is mad at you.” Patrick glared back at Russell. “Stay away from him Russell, or you’ll have to answer to me.”
Russell grabbed his clothes and sprinted out of the room. Patrick followed him out.
After Russell and Patrick had gone, Klee sat alone in the tub. He was afraid to get up. His penis was swollen and filled with a most unusual aching. It hurt, but it felt good. He wanted it to stop, but he wanted it to continue. There was a slight dizziness in his head. He waited several minutes and finally the swelling went down. He hurried and got dressed. He had to join the others out in the field. He hoped that Shepherd would not try to read his thoughts today.
****
It was midnight. Russell sat in front of the glowing computer screen playing a Star Trek simulation game. He’d been in his room for hours, not wanting to come across Shep, for fear he’d see in his eyes what he had done and surely torture him to death. He had helped out in the fields all day and was relieved as hell to discover that Patrick had opted not to tell Shep about finding him in the tub with Klee. He was so grateful, that after dinner he approached Obrien, and thanked him for his candor. Patrick had responded by threatening to remove Russell’s kneecaps if he ever went near Klee again. Having grown rather attached to his kneecaps, Russell agreed.
There was a soft tap on his door. Russell’s stomach dropped. The knock came again. Who would be knocking on his door at midnight? He was sure that Obrien had changed his mind and ratted him out. It was probably Shep at the door, come to kill him in many intricate fashions.
Russell opened the door a crack. Klee stood there, wide-eyed in a pair of faded blue jeans with no shirt or shoes. His fair skin had acquired a golden color from the day’s field work. Russell’s breath caught in his throat as he stared at the perfect creature before him, his otherworldly beauty. God was surely tempting him. And it was unfair. He really liked his kneecaps. “Klee, what are you doing here? Go on. Take off. You have to get out of here!” Russell waved his hand to shoo him away.
Klee glared at Russell. He was trembling.
“Klee, what is it? What’s wrong?”
Klee shoved him and Russell stumbled back. Klee shut the door behind him and pointed a shaky finger at Russell. “You did this to me!” he hissed.
Russell shook his head, frightened by the angry look on Klee’s usually placid, boyish face. “Klee, what are you talking about?”
Klee reached down and unzipped his jeans. He was not wearing any underwear, and his erection was enormous. “You did this to me!” Klee said again. “Now it keeps happening!”
Russell didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”
“Fix it!” Klee demanded.
“Huh?”
“Fix it, Russell. You put it there, now you make it go away!”
Russell looked at the ceiling and raised his hands up. “This is not a fair test! God, give me a break!”
Klee scowled. “The light is not listening to you, Russell.”
Russell thought it an odd thing to say, but he forgot as soon as his eyes fell upon Klee again, with his beautiful, slightly tanned body. He stood before Russell with his jeans undone, a creature of such sensual beauty that it hurt to look at him. And he was askin
g Russell to help him remove his erection. “I can’t,” he said. “I’m sorry, Klee.”
“You can,” Klee said. “I see lies in your aura. You know how to fix this. Do it!”
Russell thought about Obrien, and Shep. He thought about his kneecaps. “Are you going to tell Shep if I help you?”
Klee shook his head. “I won’t tell anyone. Just do it. Make it stop. I need…I need…”
“Release,” Russell said.
A hard breath leaked out of Klee. “Release. Yes.”
Russell locked the door and threw Klee down on the bed, covering his mouth with his own. He went to work on his body, trailing down his chest, his stomach, his ribs, lingering on his hips, circling the sharp bone with his tongue. Klee began to make sounds, and they grew louder until Russell had to cover Klee’s mouth with his hand.
Klee ejaculated almost immediately after Russell slid him into his mouth. He bit down on Russell’s hand hard enough to leave marks, but Russell didn’t mind. The pain was delicious. He normally didn’t like to swallow, but this was different. He wanted to absorb every part of this amazing creature. As he let the hot liquid slide down his throat, Klee bit down on his hand even harder.
Without even touching himself, Russell came in his shorts, releasing his own ecstasy as he swallowed Klee’s.
Moments later, Russell sat up on the edge of the bed, trying to shake a dizzy spell. His glasses had fallen to the floor in the throes of passion. He picked them up and walked across the room to place them on his dresser. On his way back, another dizzy spell hit and he had to grab the bed for support. He eased down and sat on the mattress, glancing at Klee, who stretched back with his eye’s closed, breathing more slowly now. Russell examined the tooth marks on the side of his hand and smiled. “So, was that better than chocolate?”
Before Klee could answer, Russell heard a sound from somewhere down the hall. He panicked. “Get up Klee. Get dressed. You have to get out of here.”
Klee didn’t argue. He seemed barely aware of Russell as he pulled his jeans up and zipped them. Without even a glance back, he was out the door and gone.
Russell stared at the closed door, frowning. “Well, I know I’m not the love of his life, but he could have at least said goodbye.” He fell back on the bed, woozy and disoriented. “I feel funny,” he said to the empty room. He closed his eyes and fell asleep.
He was surprised when he awoke to see the next day’s light coming in through the blinds, accompanied by a chirping chorus of birds. He’d slept right through the night. He looked down at himself. He was still in his shorts from the previous night. He must have been out cold as soon as Klee left the room. He wondered for a moment if he’d dreamed the whole thing, but then he felt the sticky residue beneath his shorts. “Christ!” he said, pulling his shorts back, disgusted with himself. He’d never been too tired to shower and change after sex.
He sat up and looked around the room. His heart pounded as uneasiness brewed inside. Something was different. He rubbed his eyes and gave his head a quick shake. Everything in the room looked strange. He stared at the lamp in the corner, then at the chair, and the objects on the desk. Everything looked smaller somehow, more defined. What the hell was going on?
He glanced over at the dresser where his glasses sat, then looked to the left of the glasses at a box of nasal spray he’d left out. He could read every tiny word printed on that box. He gasped.
The things in the room weren’t smaller. He was just seeing them clearly. Without his glasses. But that was impossible. He was nearly blind without his glasses. But here he was, reading the tiny letters on the small green and white box on the other side of the room. It couldn’t be.
He closed his eyes tightly for several seconds, and then looked across the room at the dresser again. He saw his glasses. Fearfully, he let his gaze slide toward the tiny box of nasal spray and tried to read the words printed on it. Do not operate heavy machinery while taking this product. Consult a physician if symptoms persist beyond five days. Russell’s stomach trembled. “Holy shit,” he said. “I can see.”
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Patrick took the boat over to Boston, relishing in the freedom of the surrounding ocean and open sky. It felt like heaven. He’d never imagined how claustrophobic he could feel in a place as big as the Forest Bluffs property. Regardless of its spaciousness, the subtle madness imminent within Joey’s little coven was suffocating. The rusty old ferry was a welcome change.
He was not surprised when he saw the wisps of curly black hair peeking out from behind a newspaper on the other side of the boat. It was Allisto, using the ever so handy ‘hide behind the paper’ tactic. Patrick smirked. Shep obviously did not trust him yet, despite his show of indifference regarding Patrick’s “job” in the city once a week. Patrick studied the figure behind the newspaper. He was wearing a pair of Shep’s baggy jeans, and the long gray coat Patrick saw him in that first time on the train. Patrick decided it was time to have a little fun with Shep’s incompetent surveillance team.
He bought two coffees at the snack counter and went and sat right next to his would-be spy. Allisto lowered the paper and turned to see Patrick sitting directly beside him. His startled eyes were a darker color than the other brothers’, or perhaps it was the contrast of his black hair that made them appear a deeper green. They were pretty, the way dangerous toxic waste floating atop a calm river can be pretty. “I got you a coffee,” Patrick said. “It’s chocolate mocha, your favorite.” He offered the Styrofoam cup to Allisto, who reluctantly took it, looking like a trapped rat.
“Thank you,” he said, his eyes darting around the moving boat as though looking for a means of escape.
“So, Allisto, do you have business in the city today?” Patrick asked pleasantly.
Allisto shifted on his bench seat. Patrick could almost hear his inhuman brain straining to formulate a lie. “Yes. Yes. I um, yes. I need to collect some supplies for Shepherd.”
“Great!” Patrick said. “You could come down to my office this afternoon. We can have lunch together!” Patrick patted Allisto’s shoulder affectionately. Allisto looked panicked. He shook his head.
“No. I am sorry, Obrien. That is not to be possible. I must return home after I get the…supplies.”
Patrick nodded. “Oh. I see. You’re a busy man, Allisto. I’ll leave you to your newspaper.”
“Thank you,” Allisto said, sounding relieved.
Patrick stood and made as if to leave, then turned around again. “Oh, Allisto, just one more thing. You can tell Shepherd that if he has me followed again, I will leave Forest Bluffs and I will never return. Enjoy your day.” He walked off whistling, leaving Allisto to stare dumbly after him.
The glass doors read ‘Baytown Financial Consulting’. Patrick walked through them and said hello to his phony receptionist, as Agent Litner had instructed. He walked down a narrow hallway and stepped into his phony office, closing the door behind him. Once inside, he opened the closet door, revealing the hidden room. He felt silly. Patrick Obrien, secret agent man. Oh well. Who was he to question Litner’s tactics? The man was a professional paranoid.
Agent Litner sat at a desk with Robin perched in a chair across from him. Robin ran to Patrick. She was wearing a short black sundress that accentuated her lovely blond hair. He held her as she clung to him. “We weren’t sure if you’d be here,” she said. He gave Robin a kiss. He wanted to send Litner out of the room and throw her down on the desk. Instead, he withdrew from the kiss and took the other chair.
Litner eyed him impatiently. “Tell me you have crop samples.”
“I couldn’t get near the crops alone. They have the entire field under armed guard during the day, and at night they have electric fences set up. Nearly fried my hand off trying. God knows what other precautions I haven’t discovered yet. It’s nuts. I’ll need more time. Unfortunately.”
“Damn. We have to get our hands on that stuff. Do you think you can work something out?”
“I�
��ll find a fucking way, trust me. I don’t want to stay out there any longer than I have to. Oh, and by the way, I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”
Litner’s lips curled into a very slight smile. “I’m sorry. There’s been a lot going on.”
“Fill me in,” Patrick said.
Litner told him about the meeting with Father Bello and let him listen to the recording. Patrick’s ruddy cheeks paled at the references to Zirub and the Cripulet. Litner also told him about his discoveries regarding Dr. Lichtenstein, and his suspicions that Shepherd was blackmailing the old man to get him to perform surgical tasks for him. Litner never once said the word wings. He kept it rational, like it was any other investigation. Patrick was silently grateful for that.
He also told Patrick about Shep’s phone calls to Robin, which sent a deep cold rage through him. It was an unfamiliar sensation. He was used to being jealous of Joey, not Shep. When all was said and done, Litner looked Patrick in the eye and said, “So, that’s what’s been happening here. How are you doing out there, really Patrick?”
Patrick grabbed Robin’s hand. “So far I’m safe, and they’ve been treating me like part of the crew, though they still seem suspicious of me. I plan to get those crop samples this week Litner, and I’m not saying that to please you. I want out of that God-forsaken funny farm.”
“Do you really think you’ll be able to pull it off?” Litner asked hopefully.
Patrick nodded. “The crops are guarded, but they’re not impenetrable. Shep and Joey may be a tad suspicious of me, but the followers aren’t. They think I’m terribly important. After all, I live in the big house. I’m royalty as far as they’re concerned.”
Litner scowled. “Royalty?”
Patrick tried to explain the hierarchical madness that was the Forest Bluffs church. “You see, Joey is treated as a god, and the other occupants of the house are demi-gods. This includes Shepherd, Russell, Kelinda, and of course the brothers. And now I’ve been included in this little court. I was introduced to the crowd during a sermon. I guess it was my coming out party.”
