William's Blood

by S S Bazinet

  “Oh, my goodness, how sad,” Carol cried out.

  “You poor baby,” Peggy added. “Did he have one of those living wills with the ‘don’t resuscitate’ clause in it? Did you go against his wishes?”

  Arel nodded. “Yes, I guess that’s what I did.”

  “Is he still living on life support?”

  Arel visited William in his mind’s eye. William was physically well enough, but there was so much anger in his energy field, even rage when it came to what Arel had done. “No, he’s been able to get on with his life.”

  Carol smiled. “Then you did a good thing. You gave your friend another chance.”

  Arel shook his head. “You don’t understand. He wanted to die, to be free, but I’ve kept him bound to a hellish existence.”

  Peggy squeezed his hand again. “I thought you said he was okay.”

  “All I know is that he hates me and will always hate me.”

  Carol put her head on his shoulder. “You can’t blame yourself for loving someone, for wanting to keep them here.”

  “Hello? Is anybody home?” A voice called out from the kitchen.

  Peggy smiled through her tears. “Carey? Is that you? We’re in the living room.”

  “I’m looking for Arel,” Carey said as he joined them. As soon as he saw Arel, he hesitated. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine,” Arel said with as much sincerity as he could muster.

  Carey took a step forward. “I just thought I’d check and see if you have that ratchet set.”

  “I almost forgot.” Arel began to disentangle himself from the women, but he could feel his face flushing with shame. He’d shared too much.

  “You look a little strange. What happened?” Carey asked.

  Peggy stood up and pushed the stool back so that Arel could get past her. “We were just talking.” She gave Arel a quick message with her eyes. She was saying, “Your secret is safe with us.”

  Arel’s face turned a deeper red. Why did he get the women involved with something so personal? Carol needed help, yet he was the one who ended up being coddled. He stood up and looked at her. “I’m sorry. You needed a friend’s advice and I—”

  Carol’s face brightened. “No, it’s okay.” She paused and shrugged. “I feel better.”

  Arel knew what she was really saying. He’d accomplished his goal. Carol realized she wasn’t as bad off as she supposed when she compared herself to him.

  Oh my god, I’m totally pathetic.

  He gathered up what little dignity he had left as he moved towards the door. “Please call me anytime, Carol.”

  Carol stood up and gave him the pitiful look one gave to an accident victim. “And you can always talk to me, sweetie. I’m always here for you, okay?”

  “Me too,” Peggy chimed out loudly. “You have friends you can count on, isn’t that right, Carey?”

  Carey grabbed Arel’s shoulder and shook it good-humoredly. “I’m always here if Arel needs me. But he can be pretty close-mouthed when it comes to sharing.”

  Peggy and Carol both responded by coming over and hugging Arel again.

  “He’s starting to open up,” Peggy said as her arms tightened around him. “And from now on, we will insist on him being more forthcoming.”

  Arel’s body went rigid as he tried to stop a panic attack. Once Peggy got something in her head, an animal to rescue, a human she could help, she wouldn’t let go. Privacy, that cherished quality he needed so desperately, would become a thing of the past if she was worried about him. As he contemplated her future intrusions, he knew the quicksand of hopelessness wasn’t around Carol anymore. It was his own quagmire, and he was going down fast.

  As he was leaving, Carol seemed to sense his state of despair. She came up and kissed him on the cheek. “I have a good feeling about William. I think that someday, you two will be the best of friends again,” she whispered.

  Twenty-Seven

  A DOZEN WITHERING plants sat on William’s work table. After a week of trying out his psychic powers on the once healthy marigolds, they were all dying.

  How could I be so gullible to think that Arel’s Madness has an upside?

  Arel swore that they both had special gifts that came with the blood that he had passed on to William. He’d demonstrated what he meant by helping to heal William’s leg after an accident.

  “And look at how wrong he was about me,” William hissed out.

  Being the scientific type, he decided to test the validity of Arel’s statement. Could William positively affect the growth rate of something living? If he could, it would be a small triumph. At least he’d have something special to hold on to after all that he’d lost. He fingered a lifeless leaf on one of the flowers.

  I’ve got powers alright, I’ve nearly snuffed out these damnable things in record time.

  As a boy, William had an affinity for nature. He often spent long hours in the outdoors, observing plants and animals. He scowled as he thought back on those days. It hadn’t paid to watch fox kits grow up, not when their future meant his father’s hounds would hunt them down and tear them to bits. After a favorite, young fox was destroyed, he stopped visiting the meadows and manor lands. He steeled himself against the world and the ignorant people who populated it.

  Then I was given a true gift, Rolphe’s gift. How glorious it was to have the power to punish the bastards who have no regard for anything but themselves.

  He sucked in a breath. He couldn’t let himself think about the past again. He was getting a handle on his emotions, and he planned to keep it that way. Instead, he snapped up his notepad and began to record the details of the failed experiment.

  “The flat of control plants are still healthy. However, all the ones that I handled are dying.”

  As he pressed pen to paper, his eyes kept going back to the marigolds. They reminded him of everything Arel had taken from him. Not that long ago, he wasn’t just a normal human. He was extraordinary, a superhuman who never got sick or aged like the rest of the hordes. Now those gifts were gone. As time took its toll, he’d become old and frail. He’d be like one of the fading plants, left with nothing but Arel’s empty promises.

  “You lied to me, you bloody bastard!” His arm flailed out in a burst of rage, sweeping the flat of marigolds off the work table. It took flight and landed a few feet away, scattering dirt and tiny, dying plants over the tiled floor.

  As he swallowed back the sudden flood of anger, the dark part of him that lived in his gut came alive. It first made itself known when he was a boy raging helplessly at his father. Now, its message was becoming louder and more insistent again, filling his mind with the facts. “It’s your own fault. You broke the rules. You let yourself care about someone.”

  He shut his eyes, knowing it was the truth, hating himself for saving Arel’s life so long ago.

  I should have let you kill yourself!

  “William?”

  He jerked around and saw Annabel standing on the stairs. “What are you doing here? How did you get in?”

  She froze instantly. “William, please, you gave me a key when I was leaving yesterday.”

  “I did nothing of the sort!” His tone was harsh and accusing, but he didn’t care. In that moment, nothing mattered to him but the searing hatred he had for himself, and most of all, for Arel. The bastard not only took away his gifts, but he kept William’s soul earthbound with nothing to live for.

  Annabel moved cautiously down the stairs and came over. “Do you want me to clean up this mess?”

  He forced his fists to relax and tried to slow his breath. After a moment, he was able to speak in a civil tongue. “No, just leave it alone.” He retreated a couple of steps. He wasn’t a child anymore. He wouldn’t let himself become some idiot who couldn’t control himself. “Secondly, your services are no longer required. I’m shutting down the lab.”

  “But why? I thought you were investigating—”

  “There’s nothing to investigate! I’ve failed!” The
words came out in a rush as his fists clenched on themselves again. He was trying his best to remain calm, but his anger was too close to the surface. Images swirled in his head. His father laughing at his childish tears over a dead fox. A young Arel hanging on to him, so innocent, just like the fox, wanting William to help him, to give him a reason to go on living. But the worst image was seeing himself smile back at Arel, thinking he’d do this one good deed. He’d care about another, putting their needs above his own. “I made a fatal mistake, and it’s come back to have its revenge.”

  “What do you mean?” Annabel asked. “What mistake are you talking about?”

  She started to reach out to him, and he batted her hand away. “It doesn’t matter. Just leave.”

  “Why are you giving up so easily? That’s not like you.” She stooped down and picked up one of the plants. She cradled it carefully in her hand. “Maybe your approach has been wrong. Plants are sensitive. They need a loving atmosphere, not someone glaring down at them, insisting that they grow or else.”

  Annabel was right. William hadn’t given the experiment a chance to succeed. Every time he looked at the fragile plants, he saw himself and his life. Realistically, he hadn’t believed in any gifts. In fact, he seemed hell-bent on proving that Arel was wrong. He’d let his emotions ruin the scientific part of his research.

  Annabel paused and met his eyes. “Talk to me. Tell me why you’re so angry.”

  He almost acquiesced, but he caught himself. There was no way he was going to start sharing his feelings. “It’s none of your business.”

  Annabel stepped back. “You’re right, it isn’t. But you did want me to help you in the lab. Now give me a chance to prove that I’m right, scientifically, that is.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “I propose a challenge. I’ll take these poor things and repot them. You can start with a new flat of plants. In a week, I wager that my plants will be thriving and bigger than yours or the control group’s.” Her eyes were bright and hopeful as she gazed up at him. “If I’m able to prove a point, it could really help your research.” She reached out for his hand again. “Please, William.”

  He let himself enjoy the feel of her touch for a moment before he pulled away. But she did manage to challenge his logical side. He was curious to see if she was right. “You have one week.”

  “Good.”

  “Fine,” he said waving her away as he grabbed his notes.

  Annabel looked down shyly. “Oh, and one more thing . . . .”

  “What?”

  “Please stay away from my plants. I’ll put them on the other side of the living area.”

  His frown deepened. “I wouldn’t touch them if you paid me. Now get the broom and clean up this mess.”

  She reached in her pocket and held out a key on a small chain. “First, let me give you this. It’s obvious that you don’t really want me to have it.”

  The key dangled between them for a long moment before he reached out for it. He retrieved his hand just as he was about to take back the key. “No, keep it for now. When I’m working, I don’t want to be answering the door every five minutes.”

  * * * * *

  Over the next couple of days, William found Annabel’s challenge to be a perfect form of therapy. As he concentrated on the experiment, logic and reason soothed his emotional turmoil. He began to unwind. Halfway into the experiment, he stood over Annabel’s tray of plants. She had asked him to stay away, but he had to check on their progress, didn’t he? Nearly every one of the repotted marigolds was standing bravely upright.

  How is it possible? They were almost dead.

  He thought about Annabel’s methods. She smiled at her charges, talked sweetly as she stroked their leaves, and even sang children’s songs to them. Not exactly scientific, easily measured procedures, but they produced results.

  On the other hand, his plants were turning pale and sickly. He steeled himself, wondering if he could follow her example. His gut twisted at the thought. He had no desire to change his attitude. What advantage was there in being considerate to a group of plants?

  His question didn’t go unanswered. Earlier that day, Annabel supplied him with a reason. She had plied him with a smile and a suggestion. “Who knows what latent ability you possess? You might turn this experiment around in a day if you really try.”

  He had scowled at her forwardness.

  How does she know anything about me?

  Yet, Annabel could be very convincing. As William allowed himself to contemplate her statement, he wanted to believe that he did have some hidden power. He could certainly kill a plant faster than he thought possible. Could he turn that ability around? It was a fascinating idea that hooked his curiosity. But first he wanted to understand Annabel’s ability.

  She’s using sound!

  He’d read scientific papers on that subject. But sound didn’t usually work so quickly. Annabel’s plants were responding at an incredible pace.

  Surely I could be just as effective.

  He went to his computer and did a quick search for an old lullaby he remembered from childhood. A servant used to sing it as she straightened up his nursery. He soon found a version of it on a website. He thought about the old woman who frequently smiled at him while she was singing and felt his shoulders relax. Dark clouds of resentment about his life parted long enough for him to see the error of his ways.

  Why have I been behaving so negatively?

  The thought was revitalizing. Could he change his attitude and turn things around? He had to make a quick decision about how to proceed. Annabel would be there in an hour. Hovering over his flat of flowers, he cleared his mind and started off with a basic, logical premise. Singing, without any negative energy, seemed to work. He remembered the servant again, how her song affected him in a positive way. She was the one person that could make him smile as a child. He used the memory to get him started with the simple song.

  “Lullaby and good night . . .” He began to croon the song and was well into the second verse when he was startled into silence.

  “William! You have a lovely singing voice,” Annabel called from the top of the stairs.

  He jerked around and glared back. Why was she always surprising him? It was a horribly aggravating trait he would discuss with her. But in the moment, he simply stared back.

  Annabel didn’t seem to notice his frown. Her face was bright with delight as she came down the stairs and offered an explanation for her timing. “I have to leave early, so I thought I’d come in early.” She walked over to where he stood. “I mean it. You’re wonderful. Your voice is amazing. It’s so strong and clear.”

  “It comes with training. I was forced to take voice lessons as a boy.”

  “Please, sing something,” she begged excitedly.

  “No.”

  “Please, just one little song!”

  “It’s not going to happen.” He walked over to his lab chair with a small sense of conquest. He had never seen this facet of Annabel’s personality. He continued to scowl, but inwardly, he enjoyed his ability to make her plead for something. “I was only singing because I decided to try out your theory. After all, I told you that I have a very open mind.”

  “I see,” she said retreating to her plants. “I’m happy to hear that.”

  Both fell silent after that except for Annabel happily cooing over her marigolds at the far end of the room. He had to remind himself that it was science in action. With that qualification in mind, her display was no longer irritating. He even found himself smiling at times. That’s when he came up with a plan. Later that evening, after Annabel left, he executed it. Perched on a lab stool, he gazed down at his plants and sang. He sang every lullaby and happy children’s song he could find on the internet.

  If this is a singing contest, watch out, Annabel. You have no idea who you’re dealing with.

  By two in the morning, he realized that he was sounding a little hoarse. He’d hardly used his singing v
oice in years. Now he’d stressed out his vocal chords. He was also stiff and sleepy from being hunched over the plants. With effort, he stood up, stretched and went to his recliner, hoping to rest for a few minutes before he went to bed.

  * * * * *

  William came out of a deep sleep, leaving behind a meadow he’d been dreaming about. Annabel was there, but she wasn’t herself. She was a beautiful enchantress who was going around casting a magical spell on the flowers, making their blooms triple in size. He woke up just as her wand touched him. As he opened his eyes, she was standing next to him, smiling. For a brief instant, she looked like the gorgeous person in his dream. “Where am I?”

  “William, wake up. It’s getting late, and I have to leave,” she said as she gently patted his arm.

  He flipped the recliner into an upright position and rubbed the sleep from his eyes. “What time is it?”

  “It’s two o’clock. I wanted to say ‘goodbye’ before I left.”

  “Two in the afternoon?” he grabbed at his throat, realizing that it was sore from all the songs he’d belted out so enthusiastically. At one point, he’d been in full ‘Pavarotti’ voice.

  Annabel nodded. “I did a thorough clean upstairs so that I wouldn’t bother you.”

  “Fine, whatever,” he said as he tried to remember when he’d slept as soundly as he had the past night. He was getting up when he thought about his experiment and his plants. With a sudden burst of energy and curiosity, he was on his feet and rushing to the table where he’d put the tray of flowers. After a moment, he looked up at Annabel. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “They’ve made a complete recovery.”

  Each tiny marigold stem was straight and reaching out with new energy and vitality.

  Annabel hurried over and examined the plants too. “You’re right. They suddenly look so green and healthy.”

  “Bring yours here, and we’ll see whose are the biggest?”

  “I don’t have time. I have to get going.”

  “What? You’re leaving, at a time like this? We should celebrate. I’ve had a breakthrough.”