Matty’s mom and dad hadn't told him, but he'd heard it whispered around the neighborhood that Mrs. Flynn had been found dead in her bathtub, too sad to live any longer. It had been hard to sleep for the next couple of weeks after that.
Did demon's eat children? Some of the neighborhood kids thought maybe they did.
"You can see how you're different." Papa's expression was very serious, so Matty paid special attention. "Your mama and me, we're human, not like you and Bella.” He placed a hand high on Matty's belly. "You have your own generator inside you, your own central axis , your own magic. It helps you move with great speed and it makes you stronger than others. You must never use that speed and strength to hurt an innocent being, whether they’re a theta, a human, a werewolf or a vampire."
“But wolves and vamps are evil.”
“No. Not all. Make sure you know which kind you’re dealing with before you pull the trigger.” Papa had placed his hand on Matty's head, gently mussing his hair. "But The Director is mostly interested in what you have here. The children his demons take are trained to use their mind powers, their psycore. When they’re taken, they never see their parents again, that's why we need to keep you hidden."
“And Bella’s like me?”
“Yes. She’s very special.”
"Will the demons come soon to take me and Bella?"
"They've been active in the neighborhood, searching for young thetas. If they try to get in, the room I built will keep you safe. It’s been spelled to hide the door from view. There's food and water, blankets and clothes. A little money, too." Papa had shown him where everything was.
"But you'll be in here too, right Papa? You'll keep us safe."
"They might come when I'm at work. There's an envelope in the box under the cot and two holotab numbers to call if you need help. The people who answer will know how to hide you. You listen to them."
"But I don't want you to go away." He'd clutched at his dad's shirt, taking in his soapy scent, enjoying the warmth and the strength of his father's arms. A large hand stroked his back, reminding him that he was safe.
"I would never leave you, mijo, but sometimes things happen that we can't control. You might have to take care of both Mama and Bella. You must be brave for them."
Matty straightened up, trying not to look scared. "Okay, Papa. I'll protect them. I promise."
His father kissed his forehead and released him. "I know you will, son. I'm so proud of you."
But when the demons came, Papa had shouted "Seguro," their emergency word, and Matty had run and hid with Mama, like a baby. He hadn't stayed to fight the demons, to protect Bella like he'd promised. His mother had tried to go back, but Papa had shouted, "No, Rosa, it's too late, lock the door." Suddenly Papa was fighting and Bella was screaming, trying to hide under the kitchen table.
"Oh no. Oh no. Carlos, no." Mama sobbed, squeezing Matty so hard he could barely breathe. His father had collapsed fully onto the yellowed, cracked tiles of their small kitchen, his breath huffing out in rapid bursts.
Matty closed his eyes so hard they hurt, trembling and clenching his fists, his nails digging bloody arches across his palm The pain centered him, warming his belly. He opened his eyes with a new purpose. No matter how awful, he'd be brave enough to watch, to learn, to remember everything.
The demon had long, dark red hair, braided with leather and decorated with what looked like small bones and metal rings. The end of his braid rested against his hip, not swinging back and forth like human hair. He wore a tunic and leggings of a very dark purple but his feet were bare and the nails on his hands and feet looked like claws. His skin held a yellow tinge, but what stood out was an ugly scar on one arm from shoulder to wrist. It looked red and bumpy, like the demon had been burned and hadn’t healed. Matty would remember this demon.
"Matty, please..." Bella screamed again. The demon slapped her, whipping her head to the side. She hung limp in his arms, so he dropped her on the floor into a pool of her father's blood. It began to seep into her dress.
That dress was Bella's favorite, her princess dress she called it. On some days she'd command Matty to be her knight and fight the dragon like she read about in fairy tales. He usually played along.
The scarred demon knelt, using his curved blade to hack off his father's finger, the one with his plain wedding band. He pocketed his trophy, placing a hand on each of his dead comrades in turn, starting the withering process that turned them to dust.
The demon stood, staring at the camera as if he'd known it was there the whole time. "I'll be back for the boy. If you run, I'll hurt him." With a malicious grin he changed his form to look like an average human male, then picked up Bella, and disappeared through the door.
Mama's skin was pale. "Stay in this room, Matty. Don't come out until I say you can." He watched on the screen as Mama rushed into the kitchen. Papa was breathing funny. There were red bubbles around his mouth, and a darker red on his shirt and the floor near his arm.
Against his mother's orders, he crept out, hoping she wouldn't be mad, but she was so busy with Papa she didn't even notice him there. The two demons had shriveled up like the Egyptian mummies he'd seen in a book from the library. Their stench made him gag, but he forced himself to breath it in. Like his father's comforting scent, he'd remember.
The neighbor from apartment D, Mr. O'Hanlon, came running in. He looked at the two dead demons, then at his father. "He needs a doctor, Mrs. Suarez."
Matty smiled with hope. A doctor would fix his dad, and then they could go together to get Bella back. Matty didn't like doctors, but he knew they could help when people got sick or hurt.
Mama was holding a towel where Papa was bleeding. It was turning red. "We don't know any doctors."
Matty had an idea. "I know where to get a doctor." He ran out the open door and down the two flights of broken cement stairs to the sidewalk. Mama was yelling for him not to go out, but he didn't listen. Papa was hurt.
He was a super fast runner, and this day he ran faster than he'd ever run in his whole life. He ran ten blocks. He knew 'cause he counted them as he sprinted across each potholed street. People called out to him as he ran past them, but he didn't slow down.
He skidded to a stop in front of the big brick house that belonged to the Brooklyn theta troupe. Last week Mama and he had walked past it and there'd been an ambulance in front. Later they'd heard on the news that the assistant production manager had fallen and had a concussion.
Matty rang the doorbell and a tall man with brown hair answered. "What?"
"I need a doctor."
"What makes you think we have a doctor?"
"I saw the ambulance."
"Go away, kid."
"My papa's hurt bad. There's blood everywhere."
"I told you to get the fuck away. We don't give a shit about your dad."
"Can you call a doctor? The demon took my sister away. He hit her. She was crying."
The tall man shook his head. "She's dead, kid, like your dad. Either that or she's been put in a training institute. Maybe you'll see her performing in a troupe in ten years," he chuckled.
Didn't he understand? "Please, help me. I'm a theta too." Matty was starting to cry now, but the troupe theta was bent on shutting the door in his face. In anger, Matty stuck his foot in the doorway and tried to hold it open with his skinny arms. "Do you know where there are doctors?" He sounded desperate, but he didn't care.
The theta surveyed Matty's shabby clothes and too-thin body with a tight frown. "It's better if your dad dies. You might get some insurance money." He shoved the boy away with his booted foot and then slammed the door. Matty stumbled down the stairs, twisting his wrist when he landed hard on the ground, his cheek scraping against the cement. He took a second to catch his breath, forcing himself to his knees, drops of blood from his cheek splashing on his throbbing hand. He looked up. Two large shuttles slowed as they passed, the stranger's faces pressed against the windows of the hovercraft, staring at the bl
eeding kid who'd been thrown away like trash. One of them waved and laughed.
He raced home, sailing over the ditches and ignoring the pain. Maybe he could call the numbers his father had left in the envelope. Maybe those people could help. He shoulda thought of that first before he went running off to the trouper house. He stopped several times to ask people if they might know where there was a doctor. They looked at him with sad or empty eyes, but none of them could help.
By the time he got back, his papa was dead. Mama gathered him into her arms, crying and scolding, brushing his hair out of his face, then giving him a cold pad for his wrist and cleaning his scraped cheek with a wet rag. She'd covered his papa with an old sheet, telling him not to look, to remember his father the way he was when he was alive.
He was trembling, his gut churning. Mama thought he was scared, or in pain. He was, but mostly he hated. He hated the demon with the scar who'd killed his father, The Director who'd sent the demons to take Bella, and the troupe theta who wouldn't help: he would remember them all.
"Matty," Mama's voice was firm. "I need you to be strong. Your father is dead. We will go to the people Papa told you about. We'll be safe there."Although only ten, Matty understood death. He'd seen dead people who were victims of violence in alleys and on the stoops of brownstones. Sometimes people without hope would sit on a bench in a park until they died, not willing to fight any longer to survive. But he would never stop fighting until he found Bella and killed the demon responsible.
When his mother went to gather their things, he peeked under the sheet. His father's hands rested peacefully on his broad chest, the blackened wound a reminder of the demon who'd ruined their lives. Matty touched the mouth that had smiled at him only that morning, the folded hands that had held his smaller ones so many times. He could still smell the grease and the soap, the scent of family and safety and love. His father had been a gentle man, but never a weakling or a coward. He'd managed to kill two of the three demons, probably saving Mama’s life and preventing Matty’s kidnapping.
Matty sat up straight, not slumping, the way his Papa liked him to sit. He would never again be a weakling or a coward. He’d learn to fight demons and he’d find Bella. "I'll find her, Papa." He kissed his father's cheek and covered his body once more.
Ten minutes later, they were ready to leave the apartment, the only home he'd ever known, carrying the few possessions Mama said they could bring with them. She was shaking, trying to keep herself from crying, staying strong. He hugged her around the waist, surprised by how much thinner and smaller she seemed. "We'll get Bella back, Mama. I promise."
She kissed the top of his head. "We have to stay hidden so The Director won't ever find you, Matty."
"I'm Matteo, Mama." Matty was a kid's name. She glanced at him with large, sad eyes, then nodded, bending to pick up the heaviest bag. Matteo blocked her hand. "No, Mama. I'll take that one."
He was tall for his age, and strong. His theta genes had already kicked in to heal his wrist and cheek. As he closed the door behind him for the last time, he forced himself to think about the coming days. He would protect his mother and learn to fight. Then he'd find the demon with the scar, the one with his father's ring. The one who would know where his sister had been taken.
Bella's favorite doll, Susanna, was on the floor by the ruined front door. Matteo picked Susanna up and tucked her gently into his backpack, then moved down the hallway, following his mother toward the stairs.
Playing with Passion Theta Series Book 1 Page 35
