01 Summoned-Summoned (20 page)

Then my brain switches on. I really do need coffee.

“Oh! Your grandmother's place.” I take a deep breath. “I'm working on that, I promise.”

That's not entirely a lie. The only real reason I'm on this stupid trip is to find out what Karl is up to so I can plan the other parts of my life accordingly.

“Okay, sounds good.” Her voice is distant. 

There's more to this conversation, but I'm not privileged to know. Just like she doesn't tell me anything else. I despise this situation more every time I think about it.

The silence between us lingers.

“All right, I gotta get rolling,” I say. “Just about to grab breakfast then get back on the road.”

She hesitates. “Be careful, okay?”

“I always am.” I try to sound reassuring. “Go have coffee with Coleen, and I'll be home before you know it.”

“Okay.” She pauses again, and then hangs up.

I wish she had insisted on talking longer, but it's probably for the best. Don't want to upset royalty waiting for her pancakes.

With a sigh, I cram the phone into my pocket and return to the booth. Silvia is waiting, back straight and hands folded on her lap. My gaze wanders over the plates.

“I see you took liberties and ordered breakfast.” I slide into the booth and frown.

Welcome to the rest of my life.

Silvia picks up her fork. “Blueberry pancakes, hash browns, eggs over easy, and the bacon well-done.”

I stare down at my food. I can't even recall the last time Silvia and I shared a breakfast table, but she nailed it. 

She doesn't seem to notice my surprise, and continues to talk between bites.

“Do you remember when we were eleven, and you wanted to see if you could play baseball with the angel statue? It was posed like this.” She extends her arm above her and cups her fingers. “So you batted the ball at it, and it hit the hand so hard it broke?”

I look at her . . . and then laugh. “I'd totally forgotten about that.”

She smiles. “You were so scared about my dad finding out. Like, you'd never been scared of him before, but that day you just panicked and ran away. Remember?”

“Yeah, I remember,” I say, feeling less embarrassed than I should.

That was right after my father had given me the low-down, and I had no idea what to expect from Karl.

“I tried to fix the statue with modeling clay.” She cuts into her pancakes. “My mother caught me, so I told her I had been trying to make an impression of the statue's hand and it broke.”

“That's some pretty weird excuse-making.” I shovel in a bite.

“I guess so, but I still have it.”

I look up from my food. “Have what?”

“The impression of the hand.” She grins. “Just a big block of modeling clay with a statue's hand imprinted in it.”

“Why would you keep that?”

She shrugs. “I flipped it over and use it as an ashtray now.”

I shake my head and go back to eating. 

I get it. Silvia and I spent more than a decade of our lives side-by-side. Then they began grooming us for our roles. As I was taught I would have to obey, she was taught she owned me. As I was sent out to take on the world, she was kept sheltered in the mansion oasis. And as I met people and learned to pickup women at the bar, Silvia never expanded her horizons. I am the only guy her age she has ever known.

Now her teenage crush has welled into possessiveness. It's tearing her up that she can't yet claim what is rightfully hers.

In her own twisted way, Silvia loves me. 

***

Between Albuquerque and Oklahoma City, the desert starts to roll and turn green. We're not exactly in the thickets yet, but it's nice to see grass that isn't a golf course.

Silvia sits forward in her seat, taking three or four puffs on a cigarette before discarding it, eyes wide to note each detail of the hills and towns. “I want to travel every continent. See Europe, Africa, Australia—”

“Yeah,” I say, cutting her off, “and how do you intend to do that without getting on a plane?”

Her hand freezes halfway to bringing the cigarette to her mouth. She shrugs. “Private jet. I think I could handle that.”

“That's expensive, Silv.”

“We can afford it.” She flicks her cigarette out the window.

Just once I would like to see what happens if she finished one. It's like she thinks they're fuses.

“What would you do if you weren't a genie?”

I still, but my heart speeds up. Nervous, unsettled energy. 

What would I do if I wasn't forced into servitude? I must have had goals once, before I knew my life had been planned already, but I don't remember what they were. I don't want to remember, either. They won't happen.

Even if Karl died tomorrow, his little swimmer made sure that I had no chance of escaping. I'll go out the same way all of the genies before me: bullet to the head when I'm no longer useful.

I turn on the radio and crank it so we don't have to talk anymore. I just want to get to Doctor Kerr's house so I can go home.

***

We arrive in Oklahoma City in the middle of the night. My legs are numb, my shoulders and back are stiff, and my eyes hurt. My brain is in worse shape. I haven't stopped thinking about Silvia's question the whole damn trip. 

What would I do if I weren't a genie?

Anything other than what I have been doing the last eight years. I resent she would even ask, as if it was a dream equally denied to everyone. Like vacationing in the solar system. Instead, I'm the only one who has to stay on this god forsaken planet.

I clomp out of the car and follow Silvia into the hotel lobby. 

“One room, please,” she says with a tired sigh.

The clerk punches into his computer.

“Two.” I give Silvia a look, goading her to challenge me.

Her eyes light. How dare the pet defy her.

When the clerk glances at her for confirmation, she purses her lips, then gives a tight nod.

He hands us our hotel key cards. I storm back to the car, yank out our luggage, and stalk to our ground level rooms. I stop at Silvia's door and wait for her to unlock it. As soon as the door clicks, I push past, drop her luggage on the floor, and turn to her.

“Stay in your own fuckin' room.” I point at her. “Got it?”

“I don't have your key,” she snaps.

Tears threaten to break through her face. I do not care.

“I'm sure you would find a way to sneak in. So don't. Just leave me the fuck alone.” I storm toward the door.

“Dimitri!” Her voice is shrill. “Why do you hate me?” 

I spin around to face her. 

“I'm not like my father!”

The anger welling in my chest all day erupts.

“You're exactly the same! I once choked a man with a belt. With a belt, Silvia! His face, his eyes. Feeling his body grow limp while he strangled against me. It was the most horrific thing I had ever felt. I've snatched children—small children—from their own backyard. I don't even know if they ever get to go home! I'm afraid to check!”

I'm in her face, and she looks terrified. She should be. No one has made me promise not to harm her yet. Her only saving grace is that I know Karl would take enormous pleasure in making me regret offing his daughter. 

“I've hunted and killed, all because that's what is asked of me. It doesn't matter what the request is. I'm denied the right to say no. I'm denied the right to have a life. I just sit in a damn house all day waiting for my next orders and hoping, fuckin' praying, that I can find a way to forget what I've done when I get home. That's what your family has been doing to mine. Generation after goddamned generation.”

I back toward the door, my gaze fixed on her. “You're just another Walker, Silvia. When you make that wish, that one you can't wait for, pretend whatever you want. Pretend you actually gave me a choice. Pretend it somehow matters we were raised together. But know that it would never, ever happen if I had anything to say about it.”

I slam the door, leaving her to cry. And I don't feel any guilt whatsoever.

***

I lie on my hotel bed, staring at the ceiling. I would like to go home, but as soon as Karl knows we're back, he will start summoning me again. There is no lesser evil in this choice. 

I don't want to live like this anymore. I don't want to kill people or burn down buildings. I don't want to be in a stranglehold because every dollar I spend is tracked, so I can't even go with Syd to her grandmother's house. If I do, Karl will see the charges.

Despite what I would like to believe, I'm not free on this trip either. I need Silvia to lead the leash. 

I have no idea how my father lived this way for decades. There is only one escape from the bleakness.

The figurative dagger of disobedience rams into my head. Pain splinters through my skull, and I squeeze my eyes shut.

My hand goes for the phone in my pocket. As I think of seeing Syd again, the pain in my head fades. 

I dial her number.

When she answers, I say, “Talk to me, sexy.”

She does, whispering in my ear as my eyes grow heavy. She sounds happy that I called. And I can't think of a better reason to want to keep trying.

***

Silvia and I leave Oklahoma City around ten in the morning. Breakfast is McDonald's, the only drive-thru my sovereign guest deems worthy of consumption. 

My phone vibrates in my pocket. I glance at Silvia, then decide to ignore the call.

She looks at me. “I think I hear your phone, Dimitri.”

I grind my teeth and pull out the phone. Missed call from Syd.

I text one-handed that I'm driving and can't talk, then place the phone on my lap.

Silvia eyes the phone before speaking. “Who was that?”

Only three people call me. One is occupying space in my car. Another is her father. The third is my dark little secret. 

“Wrong number,” I say.

Silvia studies me before turning back to the window.

***

A little after nine that night, we reach Nashville. The scenery has changed to tall green plants and large blue bodies of water, the antithesis of the desert. I am too tired to appreciate it. Silvia is dragging her feet and acting a lot less spirited too.

We try to check into two rooms—Silvia doesn't even bat an eye at the suggestion this time—but the hotel is booked up. I can either share a room with the Exorcist, or drive to another hotel. I refuse to climb back into that car without a slumber to rival the dead first.

I wave my hand to proceed, expecting a reflection-of-Satan smile to glimmer on Silvia's face. Instead, her eyes droop and she fumbles to pocket her credit card.

We stumble to our rooms, drop the bags, and each fall face-first into a bed. Sometime in the night, I wake up to strip down to boxers and crawl under the covers. 

In the morning, my muscles are stiff and sore. I need a hot shower and strong coffee. I also need for this trip to be over. Unfortunately, I have to do all this in reverse after we find Doctor Kerr. 

I would love to just dump the car, and Silvia, and fly home. I doubt that would go over well with Karl, though.

The bathroom sink is running. I turn to my side, joints aching. Silvia is missing from bed. She must be washing up.

I doze back off. When my eyes open again, the bathroom sink is still running. I sit up and squint, ruffling my hair. 

The sound isn't running water. It's splashing.

What the hell is she doing? Ridiculous woman.

I fall back against my pillows and fade toward sleep. Then my eyes pop open again. Something is wrong.

I pull to my feet and stumble toward the bathroom door. 

I knock. “Silvia?”

She says, “Hang on, Dimitri.”

The sound never ceases. I swear it's splashing.

I reach for the knob. It's unlocked. I push it open.

Silvia is standing at the bathroom vanity, fist around a black rag submerged in the filled sink. Wet black rags at her feet.

She stares at me, horror-struck.

“What are you—” I still. Then my stomach heaves a little. “Oh, good god, Silvia.” 

I shove her away from the sink. 

She stumbles back into the wall, still gaping at me. I gaze down at the rags on the floor.

Not rags. Puppies. Kittens. I don't know what they are, but they're not alive anymore.

One is limp in the plugged sink.

I can't formulate a coherent sentence to say. 

Did Silvia really just drown a litter of animals in the hotel bathroom?

“We gotta get out of here,” I say. “Put them in a bag, and we'll toss them.”

I walk away before I can hear myself speak. Before I fully comprehend what just happened.

***

I dump the plastic bag of soggy dead furry things in a ditch, fill the gas tank, then floor it toward Danville, Virginia. If we weren't already so close, I would turn around. I can only hope Doctor Kerr makes this trip worthwhile. I can't imagine anything she can say that will make me feel it was, though. Not anymore.

I have now seen first-hand what sort of mental health case Silvia is, and that does nothing for my enthusiasm about our future arrangement. 

Karl is about money. His daughter is something else entirely. And I have no idea what.

I blast the radio. We drive straight through all eight hours. Silvia never asks to stop, and it's for the best. I'm hard-pressed not to shove her out of the moving vehicle as it is. Leaving her at a convenience store wouldn't make me even break a sweat.

Danville is a small, humid town but with rich scenery. I would appreciate it more if my mind wasn't still flashing with Silvia's failed swimming lessons.

Even though the sun is just starting to set, I have no desire to show up at Patricia Kerr's door. I haven't even showered in nearly two days.

I still don't have a clue what to do with Silvia. I'm concerned if I turn away for a few minutes, she'll submerge something else. Maybe a child. Nothing seems beyond her.

I book the hotel room on my credit card—well, Ralf's credit card—because I really couldn't give a fuck what Karl thinks right now. He knows I'm here with Silvia, so it doesn't matter whose card we use. I don't want anything that has touched her claws.

Key cards in hand, I storm to the car, grab my own bag and wait as she struggles with two of hers. Then I nod toward the hotel and fall behind her as she unlocks the door.