by Ren Hamilton
“Never mind that for now. The point is everyone who’s gotten infected without Shep’s knowledge is losing their mind. For real.”
“Of course they are!” Robin said. “It’s like Father Bello said. Shep and the brothers are not supposed to be here in the first place. They’re certainly not supposed to be sharing their bodily essence with us lowly humans.”
The sound of approaching footsteps startled them. “Someone’s coming,” Robin said. “Kiss me.”
He gave her a deep kiss that wanted to linger. The knock on the door stopped it. The door swung open just as Patrick moved off the bed. He was expecting Joey, but Shep stepped inside.
Robin retracted like a threatened cat at the sight of him. “Joey wants to see Robin now. That is if you’re all through chatting.” Shep spoke to Patrick, but his eyes were fixed on Robin.
“Sure,” Patrick said. “He could have come up himself.”
“It seems he didn’t like the way you looked at us in the kitchen. He was afraid you might hit him.”
“Hit him? I couldn’t hit Joey if I tried. Literally.”
Shep chuckled. “That’s true.” He seemed to catch himself. “I mean because Joey’s your best friend.”
“Right.” Patrick walked out of the room. “Me and Joey. Besties for life.”
Shep followed him down the hallway. “Why the sarcasm? You don’t love Joey anymore? He loves you.”
Patrick turned and faced Shep, unable to stop the laughter that bubbled out of him. “Joey loves me, huh?”
“Of course. We both do. Why do you think we went to such great lengths to bring you here?”
“To use me,” Patrick said. “To take my choice away. Just like you did to Robin. Coercion isn’t love, Shep. It’s abuse.”
Shep opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, scowling. For once he didn’t seem to have a clever retort.
Patrick walked away. It was doubtful his words had any impact on Shep. He kept acting like the friendship was still important to him. Maybe it was. Shep was supposed to be this higher being, yet he didn’t seem to recognize the conflict between ‘I love you, buddy’ and ‘Hey, you’re a prisoner now, we cool?’
He couldn’t imagine Shep was surprised by Patrick’s resistance to all this. Or that Shep was genuinely missing the close friendship they once shared. But maybe he did. Maybe Shep, for all his evolutionary superiority, was just that fucked up. If so, there was one upside to it.
Maybe Shep wouldn’t kill him if he discovered Patrick stole his girlfriend.
Chapter Forty-Five
Patrick’s eyes sprang open in the dark. He knew something woke him but wasn’t sure what. His heart thudded, making swishing sounds in the drums of his ears as he listened intently to the silence. Then came the familiar tingling sensation and the dull throbbing at his temples. Joey.
Whatever was happening, it wasn’t life threatening. There were varying degrees to the physical reactions he experienced when Joey’s well-being was threatened. The current reaction wasn’t as strong as when Joey was shot, for instance. That experience had been like a severe blow to the head. This was more a slight tugging at his senses. Joey probably just stubbed his toe or something. This blood bond was swiftly becoming a pain in the ass.
The mental tugging pulled him up and out of the bed before he made the conviction to do so. He stood in the dark, looking down at his body disparagingly. He was aggravated by whatever was forcing his body to do things without his consent. He would have gotten up to check things out anyway. He didn’t need to be pushed. Then he heard Joey scream.
The cry held more anger than pain. Nonetheless, Patrick leapt for the door before his mind told it to do so. He stepped out, peering down the long, darkened hallway. A dim light from the top of the stairs brightened the hall enough so that Patrick saw two shadowy figures. He flipped a switch and the hallway lit up. Kelinda was curled up on the floor, inching backwards away from Joey. She was wearing a short black lace negligee, her chin wet with what looked like blood.
At first Patrick thought Joey must have hit her. Then he saw the blade still gripped in her hand. Joey stood over her, his face twisted in rage. “You crazy bitch!” he cried out as he gripped his arm. Blood seeped slowly through his fingers. “You crazy bitch!”
“Joey?” Patrick called out. “You okay? What happened?”
Joey glanced back at Patrick. “This crazy bitch!”
He seemed at a loss for any other words. Patrick assumed the cut wasn’t deep, and that the danger was minimal, because he no longer felt compelled to run to Joey’s side. He simply watched, scowling. Had Kelinda actually cut Joey?
Robin’s door opened. “What’s going on?”
“I’m not sure,” Patrick whispered.
They both watched the bizarre scene taking place in the center of the long hallway. Kelinda slunk back against the wall in a defensive posture. She had the look of a child who’d been caught doing something wrong and was about to get a spanking. Another light went on and Shep came bounding up from the second floor. Allisto and Klee followed. Shep stopped short, taking in the scene. “What the fuck is going on, Joey?”
“I was sleeping and she came into my room and cut me! She cut me with that knife. She was trying to drink my blood! Crazy bitch!” With his good hand Joey made a fist and pounded the wall. It was clear he was showing restraint by hitting the wall and not Kelinda. “Crazy bitch, crazy bitch, crazy bitch!”
Margol came leaping down the hall looking like a ghoul in a long black robe, his sleep-ruffled curls sprouting like orange horns about his head. Shep, dressed only in a pair of boxers, walked determinedly over to Kelinda, where she hunched in near fetal position on the floor. She looked up at him, her eyes full of hate. “Kelinda, what did you do?”
She wiped the blood off her chin with the back of her hand but said nothing.
Shep grabbed the knife from her. “What the fuck did you do?”
“I’m done, Shep,” Joey ranted, holding his hands up. “I’m all done with her. This is the last straw. Keep her away from me!” Joey stormed off down the stairs. “Crazy bitch!” he called back over his shoulder.
Shep gave the brothers a serious look. They seemed to read his mind because Margol and Allisto immediately went to Kelinda, each grabbing one of her arms and hoisting her to her feet. She shrieked, kicking and fighting like an animal. “Lock her in the den downstairs,” Shep said, yawning as if this were all routine.
Allisto and Margol carried her down the hallway toward the stairs and she continued to scream and growl, sounding deranged. Patrick winced. It was disturbing to watch.
Robin leaned into Patrick. “Does this sort of thing happen often?”
“Welcome to Forest Bluffs,” he said.
With Kelinda gone, this left only Shep and Klee standing in the hallway. Shep turned his attention to Klee, who was staring, wide-eyed down the hall at Patrick and Robin. “Klee, go back to bed,” he ordered.
Klee continued to stare. It took Patrick a moment to realize that it was not they he was staring at. It was she. Klee gazed at Robin with what could only be described as a dopey grin. If he were a cartoon, he would have had little hearts floating around his head. “Is that her?” Klee asked softly.
Shep glanced back down the hall at Robin. “Yeah, that’s her.”
“She is so beautiful,” Klee said dreamily.
“Enough, Klee. Go back to bed now.”
Klee turned and ran back down the hall, disappearing at the stairs. Shep walked toward Patrick and Robin, his jaw set stiff. He stopped before them, his sandy curls askew from sleeping. “Is there a problem here?”
Robin laughed openly. “Yes, actually,” she said. “There is a problem, Shep. Nobody told me it was crazy bitch night. I would have brought my propeller hat.”
Shep’s eyes narrowed. Patrick could stifle his own laughter no longer. As if in response to Robin’s comment, Joey could be heard down in the kitchen yelling “Crazy bitch!” and then something crashed to
the floor.
Robin looked at Patrick. “Patrick? Did you know it was crazy bitch night? Because I wasn’t told.”
“There was a memo,” Patrick said. “You didn’t get it?”
“No, but then again, I’m new here. Nice little sleep-away camp you’ve got here, Shepherd. Top notch.” She gave him a double thumbs up.
Shep stood there a moment longer, glaring at them, then he walked briskly away, disappearing around the corner.
“That was fun,” Patrick said. “Try to get some more sleep, okay?”
“Yeah. This place is a laugh a minute. See you in the morning.”
Patrick felt better about things as he went back to sleep. It had been so long since he’d been able to look at Shep without fear. Robin had enabled him to do so, if only for a moment. He knew that he was still knee deep in shit, but at least he wasn’t standing in it alone anymore.
Chapter Forty-Six
Agent Steven Litner sat in the small, clean waiting room, perusing the files in his briefcase, making phone calls, doing whatever he could to look like he wasn’t as nervous as he felt. Dr. Wang…Juliet, had called him in that morning to discuss the results of the grueling tests he’d been undergoing since the ingestion of what they now termed ‘Substance X’. Actually, she hadn’t called him at all. She’d had an associate call for her, the first indication that something was wrong. Whatever she had to tell him, she wanted to do it in person. He took a deep breath and tried to force his eyes to concentrate on the case file in his hands.
He hadn’t had any adverse physical reactions to the substance, at least none that he knew of. He felt as healthy as ever. Besides, she had only given him a pinch of the stuff. What harm could it possibly do him? It had barely given the rats a stomachache.
He fingered through Melvin Eugene Shepherd’s file. Shep to his friends. Shep to his enemies. Zirub to his family. Even with the newly acquired knowledge regarding Shep’s supposed origins, he still baffled Litner. He had managed to literally pop up out of thin air, producing legal documents verifying his existence, and legal documents verifying his lack of existence in the past. His past records had been officially lost, including those of his supposed family, leaving a perfectly untraceable, yet legally unquestionable trail.
Computer technology was clearly child’s play to this man, or whatever he was. If he was capable of this, then logic would dictate that Shep could easily hack into any system he pleased, secure or not. So why hadn’t he? If his goal was indeed to destroy life, then why hadn’t he just tapped into a nuclear arsenal somewhere? Litner was of course glad that Shep had not chosen this route. The problem was he couldn’t understand why. Why, why, why?
Juliet came through the double doors and Litner jumped, spilling the contents of the file onto the bench beside him. So much for looking calm. He finished shuffling the papers back into his briefcase before he dared meet her eyes. Finally, he looked up at her. Her shoulder length hair was down today, so black it had a blue sheen, beautiful dark eyes studying him warily. Folder in one hand and a pen in the other, she nervously clicked the end with her thumb. Litner forced a smile. She smiled back but he didn’t like the look on her face. Her lips were pursed too tightly.
Clapping his hands together once, he leaned forward. “So Doc, what’s the damage? Am I going to make it?”
She sat down beside him, placing the folder on her lap with her hands resting on top of it. “Well Steven, as they say, I have good news and bad news.”
His heart galloped at the threat of the bad news. “Let’s hear the good news,” he said, struggling to make his face blank.
“All right,” she said, speaking softly as people do when they’re about to drop a bomb on your head. “As I suspected, this substance is not poisonous. Blood and urine came back normal. There are no visible toxins in your readings. So as far as I can tell, whatever this substance is, it won’t kill you or make you sick.”
“So I’ll live,” he said, unable to mask the relief he felt.
She nodded, smiling slightly. “You’ll live.”
He let out a brief sigh. “Okay Juliet. Let’s have the bad news.”
She looked down at her lap, appearing to gather her courage. “The test results did show one fluctuation. I still can’t figure out why it happened, but we’ve re-tested three times and the results are accurate.”
“What is it Juliet? Please, just tell me.”
She paused. “There was a drop in your sperm count.”
“My sperm count?”
“Yes. There was an abrupt drop after the second set of tests. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
He shrugged. “What did it drop to?”
“Zero. You’re sterile, Steven.”
Chapter Forty-Seven
The kitchen at the Duvaine’s Forest Bluffs summer home had always been a point of awe for Patrick. It was enormously spacious, with a plethora of pane glass windows running along the upper wall facing the back yard. The early morning light streamed into the kitchen in soft beams of gold, eliciting a sense of well-being and comfort. He and Robin were prisoners, but even knowing this, it was a hard pill to swallow. Their confines hardly looked like a prison, with its hardwood floors, expensive rugs and private bedrooms. They were free to live like royalty in this glorious place, having everything they could possibly desire. Everything but freedom.
The two of them sat at the tile breakfast nook and sipped gourmet coffee. Robin turned toward the sound of shattering glass that echoed repeatedly from behind the closed sunroom door. It was the room Patrick had stumbled upon Shep and Klee’s “training” session. By the sounds of it, Klee was no longer melting things all over the floor.
“Now what the hell is that sound?” Robin asked, grimacing as she strained to hear.
“I believe that is Klee, learning to shatter things with his mind.”
“Charming.”
“Yes. They grow up so fast, don’t they?”
Joey came trouncing into the kitchen wearing one of his ridiculous ceremonial robes. This time it was a flowing purple number with a black satin trim. Robin’s eyes widened when she saw him. She claimed that she and Joey shared a nice chat the night before, telling Patrick she was convinced Joey could be redeemed from the influence of Shep. Patrick wondered if she’d feel the same way after hearing one of his sermons.
“Nice outfit, Joey,” she said, biting her lip to stifle a laugh.
Joey stumbled for the coffee. “Yeah, yeah. I know. I have to go out and have a little chat with my so-called followers. Kelinda is missing.”
“Missing? I thought you guys locked her in the den,” Robin said. “Listen to me. I’ve been here one night and already I sound as loony as the rest of you.”
Joey gave Robin a sideways glance that said he didn’t appreciate the comment. “Someone busted through the window last night,” Joey explained. “It was broken from the outside. Shep thinks the followers are hiding her somewhere.”
“Would they do that without consulting you?” Patrick asked. “You must be losing your edge.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of, Obrien.” He disappeared out the back sliding door. He was a strange sight indeed, a startlingly handsome young man in a purple priest’s robe with a backwards baseball cap and sneakers. The white coffee mug he carried was decorated with pink roses that spelled out the word ‘mother’.
“Hey, can we go outside? I never thought I could feel so restricted in a house this size,” Robin said.
“I hear you. Let’s go out on the deck.”
The spring air was fragrant and warm, but as always, it had an odd underlying scent. It was the smell of the crop. The strange burning rubber odor filled the air, even more now that the plants had been cut. Robin pulled the end of a lounge chair around, then stopped as a flurry of petals fell off the seat. “What the...” They both stared. The chair was completely covered with tiny yellow flowers, fresh, as though they’d been just picked. “What’s this all about?” Robin asked as the pile of fl
owers spilled onto the deck.
“It looks like Margol’s handy work,” Patrick said.
“Margol likes flowers?”
“No. Margol likes dead things. He dissects things and then leaves them on the deck to decay. We’re usually talking about woodland creatures. I’d be thrilled if he’s turned his attention to flowers.”
“I just can’t imagine the red-haired freak out picking buttercups.”
Patrick startled. “What did you say?”
“I said Margol is a freak.”
“No, what kind of flowers?”
Robin picked one up and twirled it between her index finger and her thumb. “Why they’re buttercups of course!” She held it under Patrick’s chin. “Do you like butter?”
He grabbed her hand. “Come on. We have to go for a walk in the woods.”
Robin let him drag her off the deck. “What’s wrong?”
“Margol didn’t leave those flowers. It’s a message. Litner’s scout has a code name. It’s Little Buttercup. Something must be up.”
Robin followed Patrick into the trees. “Well. It’s a good thing I was here, then. You’d have never gotten your message. You really didn’t know those were buttercups?”
“No, Robin, I don’t know my flowers. Does this mean it’s over between us?”
“I’ll let it slide if you get us the hell out of here soon.”
“I’m working on it. Come on. Follow me.”
Walsh stepped out from behind a tree, and Patrick had to cover Robin’s mouth to keep her from screaming. He’d forgotten to warn her about Walsh’s appearance. Walsh wore his token camo pants with a black tank top, long graying hair tied back into a braid. He smiled at Robin’s reaction.
“It’s all right Miss Duvaine,” he said. “I’m one of the good guys. Agent Walsh.”
Patrick let go of Robin’s mouth and she breathed a long sigh, placing her hand to her chest. “Robin. Nice to meet you.”
“Litner wants me to deliver this message in person. Come with me, both of you,” Walsh said.
