by Ren Hamilton
“So, he wants one person, preferably someone with feelings of friendship toward the messiah. He wants me around Joey all the time, and that’s why they’ve been bugging me to move to Forest Bluffs. I get it.”
Wesley gazed at Patrick for a long time. “No, Patrick. I don’t believe that you do get it. You are bound by blood to protect Joey. Do you know what that means?”
“I know we’re connected now, since the blood ritual. I can feel it if he gets hurt sometimes.”
Wesley shook his head. “That’s only part of it. Whether you realize it or not, Patrick, you are no longer in control. Protecting Joey is not a choice for you now. Your body will react if he’s in danger. Your body will protect him, with or without your consent. You will throw yourself into oncoming traffic if that’s what it takes.”
Feeling the blood drain from his face, Patrick shook his head. “Nah. I’m still in control of my own body. It can’t be that bad.”
“It is that bad,” Wesley said. “I wouldn’t tell you this flippantly. What I’m telling you is true. You just haven’t been tested yet.”
Patrick recalled the night he’d stopped the man in the bar from stabbing Joey. He’d seen the knife from across the room but feared he probably wouldn’t get to Joey in time. Then somehow, he had. He remembered the rush of adrenaline, and how strong he’d felt as he wrestled the man into a headlock. His reaction had been automatic. But did that mean he was not in control? He didn’t think so. It did get him to thinking about his blood, however. He stared at Wesley’s youthful face.
“What about my blood, Wesley? What are the side effects of being the Shield? Will I…am I going to have abnormal aging?”
“I wish I could answer that Patrick, but I just don’t know. You see, my Shield is dead.”
Patrick went cold. “How? What happened?”
“You’ve probably been wondering why you were left out of the loop. You want to know why your friends didn’t just tell you about the project. Am I right?”
Patrick nodded. “They kept everything from me.”
“There is a reason for that,” he said. “Shep made his mistakes on Rollie as well. We spent years getting to know him, drawing him into our circle. He was strong and agile and fiercely loyal. I used my enchantment and Shep used his guile and humor. Probably much the way your friends courted you. The difference was, once Rollie was part of our little group, Shep came clean and told him everything.”
“How did Rollie react to that?” Robin asked.
Wesley chuckled softly. “Rollie didn’t really believe any of it. He was used to Shep and me getting weird and eccentric at times. He went along with the blood pact, but only because he didn’t really think it would do anything. When he found out it was all true, well, it was just too much for Rollie. He couldn’t handle it.”
“How did he find out?” Patrick asked.
“It was the day Shep came and told me he wanted to use my aunt as a human sacrifice. I told you he sent Rollie out of the room for the conversation. When Shep and I came to blows, Rollie came back in. Shep was about to throw a heavy iron lamp at me. He has such a temper.”
Patrick nodded knowingly.
“Rollie was on the other side of the room. Shep let the lamp fly, and at the same time, Rollie let himself fly. He dove through the air and deflected the lamp with his body. He didn’t get hurt. Not physically anyway. I remember when it was over, Rollie stood up and just looked at us. Then he looked down at himself, as though his body did not belong to him. The move he’d made, diving across the room to protect me, it wasn’t voluntary. He knew it. He’d felt it. I’ll never forget the way he looked at us. Like we were monsters.”
Wesley glanced at Patrick, and something passed between them. Mouth gone dry, Patrick couldn’t bring himself to speak, so Robin asked the next question. “What did Rollie do?”
Wesley winced and turned away from Patrick, as though the sight of him was painful. “Rollie took a ride down to the Cape. It must have been dreadfully painful for him to drive that far away from me. He got terrible headaches if we were too far apart. But he took the drive nonetheless, loaded up on strong painkillers. He pulled his car over, got out, and threw himself off the Bourne Bridge.”
There was a long silence, and then finally Patrick stood up. A cold sweat had broken out on his forehead. “So this is it? Shep fucked up on you and this Rollie guy so he just starts over? He starts over with Joey? And me?”
Wesley nodded. “Looks that way, yes. I left him no choice. I did not have the luxury of having my conscience removed. I cared for Rollie. He was my best friend. When Rollie killed himself, I’d had enough. I told Shep I was leaving him, leaving him for real this time. He did everything in his power to persuade me to change my mind. But I stood firm. I told him he would have to kill me. I was actually quite sure that he would kill me.”
“I’m surprised he didn’t, after all we’ve learned about him,” Litner said. “He’s clearly not bothered by murder. Do you think he’d grown too fond of you?”
“Not fondness.” Wesley shook his head. “You forget, he actually knows what’s on the other side, a place of utopia. He said I didn’t deserve that. I didn’t deserve the peace of death. I had betrayed him like no other. He let me live on the condition that I retreat from society and never speak of him to anyone. He said that if I chose not to live with him, then I would be forced to live the rest of my days alone.”
“And you agreed to this?” Litner asked.
“I had no choice,” Wesley said. “He can find me no matter where I go, because of the blood. He ordered that I change my name every few years, just to confuse my paper trail, as eventually I’d…outlive most people. And he set me up here. He wanted me in a state of purgatory, alone forever. I’ve been living here ever since.”
Patrick’s brows shot up. “Shep set you up here? In this house?”
Wesley nodded. “Now you know why I’m so nervous about having you all here. Who do you think owns this house? I certainly don’t have any money. Shep pays for everything. I have no contact with the outside world. I’m permitted no television, no radio, no newspapers, and certainly no internet. My groceries get delivered anonymously. Twice a year a box of books arrives on my doorstep, so he at least gives me that, along with some fairly expensive wine. But that is the extent of my life, and he chooses what I’m allowed to read. That dog you see outside was a stray I found in the woods. When it dies, I’ll be alone again. I realize it could be worse. But the loneliness…it can be crushing at times.”
“When did you last you hear from Shep?” Litner asked.
“It was about twenty years ago. He just showed up at my door one day. I nearly fell over I was so surprised. He’d come to show off, to gloat. He’d found a replacement for me, he said. A boy genius with eyes as blue as the summer sky. A magnetic child actor. He said he’d seen him on the television, and of course, it was fate.”
“Oh God,” Robin said. “You’re talking about Joey.”
“Shep never told me his name, but I assume this was your friend Joey, when Shep first discovered him.”
Patrick scowled. “So he just finds another extraordinary kid, and boom? Instant messiah?”
Wesley sighed. “Pretty much. He swore he would not make the same mistakes that he had with me. He would calm the boy’s soul first, so he’d have no subordination problems. Then, when the time was right, they would find a Shield, free the brothers, and resume the execution of his plan.”
“Why did he bother to tell you any of this?” Patrick asked.
“He wanted me to know that I had not stopped him. He wanted me to hurt. The look in his eyes…it was as if I’d just betrayed him the day before. He was still wounded by what I’d done to him. I guess he always will be. That’s the last time I saw him.”
“Holy shit,” Robin whispered, her fair skin paler than usual.
Wesley looked expectantly at them. “So. May I presume that my dear, dear Zirub has been busy these past twenty years?”
With the help of Robin, and occasionally Agent Litner, Patrick gave Wesley a condensed version of all that had befallen him, starting with the apparition of on Saint Mary’s church, and ending with Patrick’s undercover quest to steal the crop samples. Wesley absorbed the information as a starving dog would a feast of scraps.
When it was finished, he reclined back and set his sprained ankle up on a pillow. “Thank you for filling me in. At the very least, I can now assume Zirub will be too busy to bother with the likes of me. A selfish blessing.”
Agent Litner checked his watch. “We have to go now, Wesley. I’d like to come back and speak with you again if need be. You could still be helpful to this investigation.”
“No,” Wesley said. “This has been most enlightening, but I’m afraid this is our last meeting.”
Litner looked angry. “You said yourself that Shep is planning something horrible. Have you no interest? No regard for lives that may be lost?”
“I can’t be involved. He’ll know.” The fear was back in Wesley’s eyes now.
“I guess there’s my answer,” Litner said snidely. “You don’t care.”
“How dare you!” Wesley pointed a shaking finger. “You have no idea what kind of creature you’re up against! No idea. He is like a dangerously insane child. And you want to walk in there and take his candy away. How do you think he’s going to react when he discovers he’s been betrayed a second time? First by me, his Sword.” Wesley looked at Patrick. “And now by his Shield.”
Patrick’s stomach went cold with fear. What would Shep do if he discovered Patrick’s betrayal?
“Thanks for your help,” Litner said sarcastically.
The company of three headed for the front door. “Patrick?” Wesley called after him.
Patrick stopped and turned back. “Yes?”
“I can sense your fear,” Wesley said. “One of my enhanced gifts. Don’t let Shep see it. Hide it best you can when he’s around. He can read your emotions.”
Patrick’s fear only escalated, pulse drumming in his ears. Litner took his arm and led him out the door. “Come on. Let’s go.”
They were running late and he had a boat to catch.
Chapter Forty
Patrick tried for three days to get near the plants, to no avail. It wasn’t as though the followers weren’t willing to let him in. They flocked around him like he was Sir Galahad every time he went out to the fields. They offered him wine and food. Strangers whose faces he didn’t know walked alongside him, chatting him up as though they were old friends. Some of them even offered to sleep with him. Aside from an occasional sandwich, he declined all their offers.
So, he had access to the inner sanctum of the crops. The problem was he was never alone. One of the brothers was always at his side. On this particular morning it was Allisto. The brothers tried to play it off like they really wanted to hang out with Patrick, but he wasn’t buying it. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Shep still didn’t trust him to wander the property on his own.
Poor Klee was the worst of the lot. His lying skills were not yet up to par, and he’d clearly been warned not to reveal too much information to Patrick. Just the day before, Klee had ‘volunteered’ to accompany him on his walk. When they were out of anyone’s earshot, Patrick tried asking him again where he was from. Klee looked panic-stricken when he responded “Texas.”
Later that night, Patrick had strolled into one of the sitting rooms where Klee was playing a video game. Before Patrick uttered a word, Klee stood up, yelled “Texas!” then ran out of the room, heavy-footed, like a toddler.
When Klee would leave, Margol would appear. They were so obviously on shifts, taking turns keeping watch over Patrick. It was insultingly obvious. Shep either thought Patrick was a total idiot, or he didn’t care that he knew he was being monitored. As the week drew closer to his second meeting with Litner, Patrick grew frustrated and began to panic, thinking that he might not be able to get the crop sample in time. But he had to get it. That sample was his ticket out of Forest Bluffs. And he did so want to be out of Forest Bluffs. The more time he spent there, the stranger things he saw.
Earlier that day he’d encountered Margol sitting on the back deck with a dead bird in his lap. He was picking it apart, either out of curiosity or for amusement. Patrick later learned that Shep had given Margol permission to dissect woodland creatures after he’d caught him in the fruit cellar cutting up a corpse stolen from the City Hospital morgue. While Allisto, the black-haired brother, despised the human body, Margol, the redhead, was apparently fascinated with it.
So now Margol’s fetish was restricted to animals. When Patrick walked out onto the deck, Margol had a wing ripped off, one clawed foot in his hand, and was using his other hand to pry off the beak. He’d looked up briefly when Patrick stepped out, then gave his attention back to dismembering the feathered corpse. Patrick had nodded, smiled, then turned right back around and gone inside.
He finally came up with an idea as he passed Kelinda on the way in. He’d seen her coming and going as she pleased around the property, and not even thought twice about it. Until now. Kelinda did not know it, but she was about to do Patrick a very big favor.
He found her around dinner time, in the bedroom she shared with Joey, seated before her vanity mirror. Patrick watched her silently as she applied pink lipstick with a tiny brush. She was dressed in a black gauze jumpsuit and bejeweled as though she was about to attend some grand affair. Patrick had a feeling he knew where she was off to. Another little wine tasting seminar, perhaps?
“What do you want?” she snapped.
Patrick stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. “That’s a fine greeting for an old friend.”
“Cut the crap, Patrick. I know you must hate me, so why don’t you just tell me what you want.”
Patrick moved to stand behind her. She stopped with the make-up and looked up at his reflection. “I need a favor.”
“You don’t say.”
“I need to get a sample of that crop out there. The problem is I can’t seem to get a moment alone with the brothers up my ass all day. I’ve watched you go in and out of there like you own the place. I want you to take this baggy, and fill it up for me. Make sure no one sees you.”
Patrick held the zip-lock bag out in front of her. She turned away from the mirror to face him. “Are you crazy? I’m not risking my neck for you. I’ve seen what Shep does to his own flesh and blood when he’s angry. Sorry sweetie, but you’re not worth it.”
“You will do this for me Kelinda.”
She stood up defiantly and came around from behind the chair. “Fuck off,” she said. She tried to push past him, but he blocked her way. She glared up at him. “Get the hell out of my way, Patrick. I will not help you betray Joey.”
“You dare talk to me about betrayal?”
“You can intimidate me all you want. I won’t do it. Do you know what Shep will do to me if he finds out?”
“Now you listen to me, Kelinda. If you refuse to do this, I might just have to tell Shep what you’ve been doing out in those fields at night.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks flushed. “That’s right,” he said. “I think he’d find your taste in wine rather interesting.”
“You bastard. You followed me! What are you, some kind of stalker?”
“That’s right Kelinda. I’m a stalker. I’m a mad stalker, and I’ve been following you. But that’s not what’s important. What’s important is I know you’ve been sharing more than smiles with those zombies out there. Get me the sample or I’ll tell Shep.”
“You have no proof,” she said. “I’ll deny it. Give it up, Patrick. You can’t win here.”
“Okay, Kelinda. Let’s go.” He opened the door and began dragging her out into the hallway.
She fought against him. “What are you doing?”
“We’re going to see Shep. We’re going to see right now who he believes, me or you.”
“You’re crazy! I’l
l expose you! I’ll tell him you want the crop!”
He pulled on her arm, dragging her slowly down the hallway. “Guess what, Kelinda? I am crazy. I don’t fucking care anymore. You can tell Shep whatever you want. But if I go down, you’re going down with me.”
“Okay! Stop!” she shouted.
He paused. “Okay, what?”
“Okay, I’ll help you. Now let go of my arm you fucking orangutan.”
He let her go and they walked calmly back to Joey’s room. She straightened her jumpsuit, smoothed her hair, and sat back down at the vanity. “How much do you need?”
Patrick gave her the baggy. “Clip off about five sprigs and put them in here.”
She looked up at him and snatched the bag. “I guess you haven’t been outside in a while. There are no more sprigs. They’ve been chopping it down all afternoon. It’s harvest time. They started grinding it. Gonna be loading it into drums tonight.”
Patrick ran to the window. Sure enough, the plants were being cut to the ground and hauled over to the guesthouse. He looked back at her. “Then you’ll just have to do it tonight.”
“Fine,” she said, and tucked the baggy into her pocket.
“Kelinda, what is it for? The crop?”
“How should I know?”
“I think you know a lot of what goes on around here.”
“True, but I don’t know what the crops are for. They’re grinding it up and putting it in storage drums in the guest house. They’ve got trucks they’re eventually going to load the stuff on. I don’t know where it’s going after that, so manhandling me won’t do you any good. Fucking bully.”
Patrick couldn’t help but smile. “I am sorry about that.”
She smiled back at him, though she was clearly trying not to. He felt a terrible pain stab his soul. He had cared about Kelinda. He still did, even if the romance was gone. Somehow, he still felt that none of this had been her choice. She tried to act as though she was perfectly fine with her current situation, but he saw the pain and fear in her eyes.
“Kelinda, I’m getting out of here soon. Why don’t you come along? You don’t belong out here. You must miss your family. Don’t you want to get away from all of this craziness?”
