by Ren Hamilton
“My family is here now.”
“I don’t believe that. I think you’re scared, and I can understand that. But this is not the only way. There are people that can protect you.”
She stood and faced him. Tears brimmed in her eyes. “You don’t get it. I can run from here, but I can’t run from what I’ve become. They’re monsters. And now, I’m a monster too.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“Look at me! Can’t you see it? Can’t you see what he’s done to me?”
“Who?”
“Joey! I loved him, you know. You were right about that. I’m sorry Patrick, but I did. I loved him since I was twelve. I loved him while I was with you. But not anymore. He used it against me. He thinks he’s smarter than I am.” She pointed a finger to her temple and giggled. “But I’ll be getting the last laugh. You see, I don’t care what happens to him anymore. Isn’t that strange?” Her eyes looked distant, trance-like. “In fact, I don’t care about much of anything anymore. So you see I’m not so different from him now. A monster.”
“Come on Kelinda. You’re not a monster. You haven’t changed so much.”
“Oh, really?” She walked over to the fireplace and picked up one of the iron pokers, tossing it to Patrick.
He caught the heavy rod. “What?”
She took it back from him and held it up. She stared at it for a moment, then with one swift movement, her tiny white hands bent the iron poker and tied into a knot like a pretzel. “Still think I haven’t changed so much?”
Patrick stared with open shock. “How did you…’’
“It’s Joey’s fluids. I’ve inherited Shep’s strength from Joey. I’m infected with him.”
Patrick stared at her, not knowing how to respond.
“It all comes from Shep, you know,” she said. “I heard them talking about it when they thought no one was around. It alters everyone differently, they said. They don’t know just how much it’s affected me. I don’t want them to. I hate it, Patrick. The only thing that helps is when I give it away. Those people living out in the field are like drug addicts. They get a little bit high every time Joey talks to them, but he doesn’t talk to them nearly enough. He doesn’t visit them like I do. He leaves them hungry, longing, craving more. So I give it to them. I share with them the little piece of Joey that I have inside me now.”
“Kelinda, this is insane. We’ve got to get you some help.”
“Help?” she laughed. “You still don’t get it, do you? I need him too. I’m an addict, Patrick. But at least now I’m not the only one. Every one of those followers is just a little bit more special now than they were when they got here. Joey took my control away from me. But now I have control over his followers. At least I can take that from him. Call it poetic justice.”
The irony smacked Patrick in the face that Shep was here trying to take control away from his divine superiors, while unbeknownst to him, he’d lost control of his underlings, who were in turn trying to wrest control from each other.
“My God, Kelinda. Please consider leaving here. There’s a way out of this. There has to be. Please.”
She tossed the twisted iron poker onto the floor with a loud clang. “I’ll get you your crop samples, Patrick, because I don’t give a shit what happens to Shep or his stupid plans. But don’t fuck with me. And don’t tell Shep what I’ve been doing or I’ll break you in half.” She walked out, leaving Patrick in shock.
Later that night, Patrick answered a light tapping on his door. Kelinda thrust the baggy at him. It was filled with a grainy reddish substance. “Thank you,” he said. She left without speaking. She was probably a lost cause after all, he decided. But when he looked at the crop sample in his hand, he was too elated to care. Tomorrow was his day to go to Boston and meet with Litner. This time, he would not be coming back to Forest Bluffs. He’d done his part. He was going home.
****
Kelinda jumped when she walked into the bedroom and saw Joey standing there, waiting for her. “Joey! I thought you were downstairs.”
He held up the fireplace poker she’d tied into a knot. “Did you do this?”
She looked into his pale eyes and saw horror and fear there. She enjoyed that look in Joey’s eyes. She wanted to see more of it. He deserved to be horrified. “Yes,” she said. “I did that.”
“How?”
She made her eyes wide and innocent. “With my bare hands.”
Joey looked at the twisted piece of metal, then back at Kelinda. “I don’t think you should sleep in here anymore,” he said. “I’ve moved your things to one of the guest rooms down the hall.”
She was shocked, then furious. Who was he to put her out after all he’d done to her? But she wouldn’t let him see her upset. When she ultimately got her revenge on him, she wanted it to come as a surprise. So she forced a grin. “Whatever you say, Joey. You’re the messiah.”
Chapter Forty-One
It started out as a normal day for Patrick, if there was such a thing as normal at the Forest Bluffs home for unhinged motherfuckers. Shep emotionally abused those closest to him. Margol dissected tiny animal corpses. And Joey played God with the blood-crazed zombies in the field. All families had their issues, he supposed, but he was done being the redheaded stepchild in this one. Blessedly, he’d soon be leaving their ranks.
He was eager to get to the city and deliver the crop sample to Agent Litner, and even more eager to see Robin. He’d found one of her pale blonde hairs on his tee shirt before bed last night and nearly swooned, but then, fearful Shep would smell it or something creepy like that, put caution first and flushed the hair down the toilet. The paranoia was getting ridiculous—another reason he was ecstatic to be leaving today.
Dressing in jeans and a navy tee shirt he hoped Robin would think looked good on him, he reached under the mattress, pulling out the baggy of grainy red substance. Quickly, he stuffed it deep into his front pocket.
Grabbing his wallet, keys, phone, and a few possessions that could fit in his briefcase, he left his duffle bag on the bed with some clothes in it so Shep wouldn’t guess he wasn’t returning. Then he went off in search of the man himself…or whatever he was.
Shep is not a man. The knowledge still wouldn’t sink in.
The house had so many damn rooms. He expected to find Shep in the library, but he wasn’t in there. Instead, he found Margol and Allisto seated at the computers, fingers tapping furiously at the keys. They’d certainly come a long way from the dirty stumbling stalkers he’d first encountered.
He moved out of the library and continued his search for Shep, finally finding him in the sunroom off the huge kitchen. Patrick paused at the doorway without entering. Shep and Klee sat cross-legged directly across from one another, both in boxer shorts, shirtless and barefoot.
“Okay Klee. Try it again,” Shep said softly.
They seemed unaware of Patrick standing in the doorway. A painted vase sat on the rug directly between them. Klee stared at it intently. He closed his eyes and brought his fingers to his temples. What happened next left Patrick baffled, holding his breath as he watched. Liquid began to drip down the sides of the vase and onto the rug. Patrick wanted to get a closer look, but stayed frozen in the doorway. Something told him he was not supposed to be seeing this. The liquid, he realized, was paint from decorative exterior of the vase. The streams thickened, first red, then blue, then mixed colors swirled into the little waterfall until it was a rainbow oozing down the sides.
The long neck and spout shriveled and made a slow sideways bend as the vase melted and collapsed like it was made of Play-Doh. Klee opened his eyes and threw his arms over his head in a ‘tah-dah’ pose. He smiled at Shep. “I destroy it. Yes?”
Shep shook his head. “You melted it, Klee. You were supposed to shatter it.”
Klee looked at the remains of the vase and his smile slid away. “I melt it?”
“Yes, Klee.”
Klee’s lip curled into a pout and he looked about to cry
. Shep crawled around the melted vase and stroked his hair lovingly. Patrick was always floored by these displays of affection. As Shep petted him, Klee gave in to the tears. “Don’t cry, Klee. It’s all right. Even Juris had trouble with this at first.”
“I lose my concentration,” Klee said, his voice wet with tears.
Shep rubbed his shoulders. “Okay, that’s a start. What made you lose your concentration?”
Klee wiped his nose with his wrist and pointed to the doorway. “I smelled Patrick.”
Shep’s head spun like a boomerang, his eyes wild when he saw Patrick standing in the doorway. “How long have you been there?”
“Not long,” Patrick said. Fear gripped his gut.
Shep stood and shoveled the damaged remains of the vase into a barrel. “That’s enough for now, Klee.”
Klee got up and trotted out of the room like he hadn’t a care in the world. Shep finished cleaning the mess then glanced up. “What do you want?” he asked sharply.
Patrick didn’t like his tone. He reminded himself not to show his fear, as Wesley had advised him. “I just wanted to let you know that I’m heading out. I’ll see you later on tonight.”
“Heading out where?”
Patrick scowled. “Well, to my consulting job of course. To Boston. I go once a week. Remember?”
“No,” Shep said, shaking his head firmly.
“No, you can’t remember? Shepherd, I just went last week.”
Shep shook his head again, fussing with the rug and avoiding Patrick’s eyes. “I don’t mean, no, I can’t remember. I mean no, you can’t go.”
Great. Patrick didn’t need this now. The bulge of the plastic baggy felt hard and heavy in his pocket. He was too close to wrapping this bogus assignment up to have things stopped on a whim because Shep was in a bad mood. “What do you mean I can’t go?”
“You can’t go, Obrien. Joey will freak out. He gets scared when you’re not around, and I can’t coddle him all day. I’m having problems with Robin and I have a lot on my mind.”
Patrick stiffened. Problems with Robin? Robin was not Shep’s to have problems with. She was Patrick’s Robin, damn it. “What kind of problems?” he asked a bit too sharply.
Shep looked up. “That’s none of your business.”
Oh, you have no idea how much of my business it is. Shep did seem overly agitated. The young man that Patrick used to think of as the most laid-back person in the world was wound so tightly he looked about to snap. Since Patrick’s arrival Shep had been going out of his way to give Patrick the impression he was still the same old happy-go-lucky Shepherd. Now it seemed he hadn’t the energy to keep up the facade. Something was really bothering him. Could it really be Robin’s rejection? If that was the case, Shep had just better get over it. Robin was not coming back to him. Not now. Not ever.
“I didn’t realize you were still seeing Robin. I’ve noticed she hasn’t been around.”
Shep straightened up. “You don’t understand. It doesn’t matter if Robin and I don’t speak for weeks at a time. We’ll always be together. She loves me. She’s just being stubborn. She’ll come crawling back. You’ll see.”
“I ran into her in Boston and she seems happy. Maybe she’s just finished with you.”
“Finished with me?” Shep took a step closer to Patrick. “Is that what she’s telling people? That she’s finished with me?”
“Well, she said something to that effect.” Patrick was being spiteful, and he knew Litner would kill him if he heard him taunting Shep on this matter. But he just couldn’t help himself.
“Finished with me,” Shep repeated the words to himself, looking enraged.
“Why don’t you just let it go? The relationship is over. It happens.”
Shep glared at him. “Never. I will never let it go. While there is breath in my body, that girl will belong to me. She’s mine.”
Okay, drama queen. Patrick wanted to strangle him, but forced himself to let the matter drop. He couldn’t let his feelings for Robin lead him into an emotional confrontation. He had another matter to contend with now, and that was Shep telling him he couldn’t leave. “I have to go to Boston now. The consulting firm is expecting me. I can’t just blow it off.”
He was sure Shep would just wave him off at that point. Instead, he stared at Patrick, hands on his hips. “I said no.”
A strange heat passed through the room, Shep’s eyes extra bright against his tanned face. They were not the placid, kind eyes he’d been showing Patrick the past two weeks. The shields were down, and there was something else in those eyes now. Patrick flinched as he felt that heavy warmth blow past again, like a wave of power—just as Shep’s green eyes appeared to gleam like a cat’s before returning to normal.
I’m imagining it. I’m imagining things because of what I’ve learned about him. He struggled to hide his growing fear, taking a deep, slow breath. “Shep, be serious. You can’t tell me not to go to work.”
“Obrien, listen to me. You don’t need that consulting job.”
“I have to keep my skills sharp.” His own voice sounded small him, so he tried to speak more forcefully. “I can’t have gaps in my resume. It won’t look good.”
“What do you care for? Your future? I give you everything you need right here. I cannot risk losing you. Joey can’t handle it. You’ll stay here.”
Patrick’s heart beat like a drum in his chest. He forced himself to take a defiant step forward, though the last thing he wanted to do was get closer to Shep. His skin prickled with an unseen energy. It seemed to be coming off Shep in waves. “I am not one of your lackeys, Shep. You don’t tell me what to do. You can’t make me stay here.”
Shep sighed. “I can make you stay here. I’d rather it didn’t come to that. I’d like you to stay voluntarily.”
They stood face to face, mere inches between them. Patrick looked down at his smaller friend. Their size differential was no comfort. It never had been. But now there was real fear. It was easy to whisper about blood rites and wings while seated at the cozy table in Carbone’s kitchen. To confront such matters with Shep himself was something he wasn’t mentally prepared for. “You don’t control me,” Patrick said. “Stop being weird.”
“I control everything in this house and on this land, Obrien. Haven’t you figured that out yet?”
“You’re getting delusional. I’m worried about you.”
“Call me whatever names you want. You’re still not leaving this property.”
“Really? We’ll see about that.”
Patrick turned to leave the room. The door slammed shut in front of him. Stunned, he looked over his shoulder. “It must have been the wind,” Shep said.
Patrick shuddered, a pearl of sweat dripping down his back. This was not good. No, Shep, don’t do this. Do not come clean with me now. Please. I can’t handle it.
His sanity needed Shep to keep pretending, just a little longer. Pretending he was simply Patrick’s eccentric old college buddy. For weeks he’d wished Shep would share his secrets, but Patrick did not want this confrontation now. He just wanted to get out of this nut house and to the safety of Agent Litner’s office. He was so close. He shouldn’t have bothered to say goodbye to Shep at all.
Patrick went for the door. Shep grabbed him by the back of his tee shirt. Before he knew what was happening, Shep flipped him and he was flat on his back. Shep’s curls hung in his face as he looked down at Patrick. “I don’t want you to get hurt, Obrien. Please trust me. This is for your own good.”
Patrick glared up at him. “You don’t want me to get hurt? Then why did you just throw me to the floor, you crazy fuck!”
“The pain will be much worse for you if you try to leave now. You’ve got to believe me.”
“Why? Because you’ve always been so trustworthy?” Patrick lunged at him, grabbing one arm and tossing Shep over his head.
Shep landed hard, but then scrambled to his feet with lightning speed and blocked Patrick’s path to the door. Pa
trick dove at him, meaning to toss him out of the way again, when Shep did something terrifying. He held his hand up as if to ward Patrick off. Shep’s hand never made contact, yet Patrick’s body was hurled to the side of the room with a force that knocked the wind out of him.
Shep walked over and looked down at him as he gasped for breath. “Please don’t continue this. I don’t want to hurt you. I just can’t let you go. I care about you. I really, really don’t want you in pain.”
Patrick stared up with open shock. He was afraid of Shep’s power, but he was more frightened that Shep was no longer hiding it.
“Don’t fight me, Obrien. I don’t want things to be like this. I want us to work together.”
“Yes, work together. I want that too!” Patrick lied, hoping to sweet talk his way out of the room. He sat up, then climbed unsteadily to his feet. “We can discuss that when I get back. After I go to the city, we can sit down and talk about working together more.”
“You lie. I can always tell. Your aura gets little green spots.”
“Yes, so I’ve been told. I’m leaving, Shep. You’re going to have to kill me to keep me here.”
“Shit. I hate this.” Shep scowled, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Okay, here it is. The truth is, Obrien, you really can’t leave. The blood won’t let you.”
“That’s funny, I could have sworn it was you who wouldn’t let me.”
“I’m trying to save you some pain. I figured if you thought it was me keeping you here, you wouldn’t go. You’ve been here two weeks now. You’ve spent too much consecutive time with Joey. The bond has solidified. The blood will stop you. Please don’t try it, Patrick. I care about you. I really don’t want to see you in pain.”
Shep’s eyes were sincere and pleading. And he’d used Patrick’s first name, which meant he was deadly serious. And Patrick felt like vomiting he was so frightened. He had no doubt Shep could sense his fear now, so he tried to roll with it.
