Made to Love (11 page)

Those questions hung
between us, unspoken, even though we all knew that they needed to
be answered.

My parents wouldn’t be the
ones to answer them, but maybe they didn’t need to be.  The
key to Dad’s lab hung heavy in my pocket.

As if a gift from the
Heavens, Mom suddenly spoke up.  “Your father and I need to
travel to Portland today to meet with some of his colleagues. 
We won’t take long, but we need to stay overnight for some
meetings.”  I lifted my eyes to hers hopefully.  “We
don’t want to leave you alone, but…”

“
That’s fine,” I
blurted.  “I want to be alone.”

My dad glared.  “That
thing isn’t allowed in the house.”

“
I know, I
know.”

They exchanged looks, and
my mom shrugged.  “You’re too old for a babysitter.  You
can’t have anyone over tonight, and you’ll have to take yourself to
school tomorrow.  There’s plenty of food in the kitchen, and
the maid is still here, and she can contact us if there are any
problems.”

I grinned. 
“Great.”

My dad looked dubious, but
they didn’t have a choice.  They had to make their
meetings.

I was thrilled.

As they left the house, my
mom admonished me again – “Don’t invite anyone over tonight!” – and
I nodded, reassuring her and waving them out of the
house.

Truth be told, I didn’t
plan on inviting anyone over.  I probably wouldn’t have
to.  Octavius would be watching—and I wanted to speak to Byron
more than I wanted to speak to him anyway.

As soon as their car pulled
out, I wrapped my hand around the key in my pocket. 
Byron
.

But first—food.

I gathered everything I
could carry out of the pantry and ran to the basement door. 
The key slipped into the lock, and I made my way down the stairs
carefully, navigating my dad’s bubbling and hissing lab with all
the care of a girl who had grown up around that kind of
equipment.  Byron was strapped to the table again, but he
wasn’t sleeping this time.

He looked up at me in
interest as I settled all the food on my dad’s worktable and
approached the leaning bed.

“
How are you secured in
this?” I wondered, searching the straps for locks and finding
none.

“
You shouldn’t let me
out,” Byron said, gazing at me forlornly.  “It’s not
allowed.”

“
Do you
want
to
stay in there?”

After a moment, he shook
his head.  “It’s a switch on the wall.”  Byron looked
pointedly to the right, and I followed his gaze to a panel on the
wall covered in lights and levers.

“
Which one?”

“
On the right.”

I flipped the switch on the
right, and with the groaning sound of gears rotating, the straps
lifted and Byron stepped off the table.  He was in just his
underwear again, and he rubbed his wrists and ankles where they had
been chafed by the straps.

“
Are there clothes down
here?” I asked, searching the room with my eyes.

He shook his head. 
“Father occasionally brings me his clothing.  When he’s going
to take me on walks.”

My eyebrows lifted. 
“Father?”

Byron gazed hungrily at the
food on the table.  “Not your father.  His… friend. 
The angry one.”

Before I could acknowledge
the thrill of excitement that ran through me – after all, my dad
had refused to talk about his partner, even though I was pretty
sure there was one – I opened a bag of Doritos and offered it to
him.  “You don’t have to just look.  I brought all this
for you, if you want it.  You look like a hungry
guy.”

I didn’t have to tell him
twice.  Byron fell on the food, stuffing his mouth with
everything he could get his hands on, and I was glad I'd urged him
to eat instead of indulging my own curiosity.  Crumbs flew,
and it was all immolated with three minutes.  Except for a
muffin.

“
I know they’re your
favorite,” he mumbled, and I smiled.

“
Thanks.”  I hopped
up onto the work table and peeled the paper off the muffin. 
“How do you know I like poppy seed muffins?  And you knew my
name, too, the first time I came down here.”

“
Father discusses you
with… your father,” Byron said.  He was shy, staring at his
feet.

I took a bite of my muffin,
chewing slowly as I watched him.  He wasn’t so bad-looking,
even with all the stitched-together parts.  The mechanical
parts of his knees had been replaced with actual flesh since the
last time I had seen him bare.  “Who’s your father?” I asked,
keeping my tone casual.  “You know.  The angry
one.”

“
He is the one who
animated me, gave me life,” Byron said.  “Your dad
helped.  They worked together.  But I was conceived –
designed – by Father.”

That was unexpected. 
“I’ve never seen another person here.”

“
There is another
passage,” Byron explained, gesturing to the opposite end of the
lab, where I had yet to explore.  There was a lot I hadn’t
gone through yet.  My dad’s lab looked like it might have been
bigger than the house itself.  “That is also where they
usually take me outside.”

“
How often is
that?”

Byron hung his head. 
“Very seldom.”

I popped the rest of the
muffin in my mouth and swallowed.  “Do you know what else
they’re working on?  My dad mentioned his project wasn’t
done.”

“
I don’t know.  I do
know that I’m not complete.”  He gave me hopeful eyes. 
“They said when I’m done, they’ll let me go.”

Somehow, I doubted that was
true.  Dad was really possessive of his experiments.  My
heart ached for him—poor Byron, locked in this dark basement. 
I touched his shoulder.  It was so hot.

I tried to change the
subject to cheer him up.  “Where did you come
from?”

He looked confused. 
“What do you mean?”

“
Before you were down
here, where were you?”

“
I don’t understand. 
The first time I opened my eyes, I was here,” Byron said.  “My
first memory is of flashing lights and a loud roar, and Father
standing above me.  He was laughing with happiness.  I
think he was pleased I was born.”

“
You were born an adult?”
I asked, brow furrowing.  It made me take a second at all of
his stitched-together parts.  Was he just a really smart
robot?

“
I don’t understand,”
Byron said softly.

I squeezed his shoulder,
and he smiled.  It was a nice smile.  “Look, Byron. 
I’m going to leave soon.  I’m going to be an adult in a month
and my parents won’t own me anymore.  I don’t want to come
back, not ever.  I can let you out of here – I could let you
out right now – and you’ll be free.  You can do anything you
want.”

Byron’s smile faded. 
“I’m not finished.”

“
You don’t want to
leave?”

“
I do,” he said.  “I
want to see the world beyond this basement.  But… I am
incomplete.  I could not survive long.”  Byron touched
his chest.  “This… here… is still a machine.  Like many
of my joints.  Until it is flesh, I will not be
free.”

I bit my lip.  “You
know they won’t let you go when you’re finished.  Nobody puts
this much time and secrecy into something they just want to give
up.”

“
Father would,” Byron said
firmly.  “He wanted me to be alive.”

Ugh.  How entirely
depressing.

I stared into his
pathetically mismatched eyes – one soft brown, like a puppy, and
the other cold and mechanical and black – and knew I couldn’t just
leave him.  Darn it all, but he was just so
pathetic.

“
What can I do to help
you?” I asked.

His face broke into a broad
smile.  “You could come talk to me, just like
this.”

“
You just want to
talk?”

Byron thought silently for
a moment, staring around at the lab.  “Are you skilled like
your dad?”

I shrugged.  “I don’t
know.  I know a lot about science, and I’m really good at it,
but I don’t like it.”

“
Maybe you could help
finish me,” he said hopefully.  “Then I could be done in a
month and leave with you.”  Byron hurried to the wall and
pulled out my dad’s binders and journals.  “Father is gone for
a little while—I’m supposed to wait until then.  But they
won’t notice if their materials are missing.”

I followed him cautiously,
peering around his shoulders.  “Dad’s not going to work on you
while your father is gone?”

He shook his head. 
“He doesn’t know enough.  But… maybe you do.”

“
I don’t know, Byron,” I
said doubtfully.  “I could try.”

Byron smiled and gave me a
thick, leather-bound journal.  “That has the details of how I
was created.”  He grasped my hand, and it disappeared in his
palm.  He was much bigger than me.  “Thank
you.”

“
Don’t thank me yet,” I
said.

What had I gotten myself
into now?

Chapter
Twenty-Eight

The journal read almost
exactly like
Frankenstein
.  It had been a long time
since I'd read the novel – I'd first finished it off when I was
bored in fifth grade and I'd had nothing else to read – but the
journal read more like science-fiction than fact.

I got through the entire
thing that afternoon.  I'd understood all of it, even the
scribbles that were almost illegible, but it didn't make the ideas
any less bizarre.  Animated flesh?  A living power
source?  It sounded like I was in a zombie movie or
something.  I didn't even like zombie movies.  Too
boring.

The doorbell rang just as I
was closing the cover.  I frowned, then stuck the journal
under my mattress.  No way that I was going to leave it lying
around, no matter who was at the door.

I ran downstairs and opened
the door.

Octavius leaned in the
doorframe, looking irresistible.  “Hey,” he said.

“
Hey,” I said. 
“What's going on?”

He leaned around the edge
of the entrance.  “Word is your parents are out of the
area.”

“
Word...travels fast,” I
said.  It was hard for me to talk when he was around.  I
had to take a breath in the middle of a sentence, and I never did
that.

“
Does that mean you're
going to have a party?”

“
No,” I said, rolling my
eyes.  “My parents would kill me.”

“
Seems to me you don't
much care what your parents think.”

“
Not really, but I like
living.”  I grinned.  “They also said you can't come in
while they're gone.”

“
Did they now.”

I nodded.  “I think I
could see my way to letting you slip in anyway.”

“
Great,” he said,
laughing.  “You're a rebel.”

“
You know it,” I
said.  I turned and smiled coyly over my shoulder at him, and
he walked inside, eyes blazing.

I was officially breaking
the rules.  And I couldn't give a damn.

“
You want to see my
bedroom, right?” I asked.  “Or maybe my bathroom?”

He put a finger over his
lips as he mused the possibilities.  “How old are
you?”

I frowned.  “What does
age have to do with it?”

“
I'm curious.”

“
Almost
eighteen.”

He smiled.  “I
figured.”

“
You're over eighteen,
aren't you?” I felt my stomach sink.

“
By a lot,” he said. 
“Does it bother you?  Dating an older man?”

“
Not in the
slightest.  Would it stop you?”

“
No,” he said.  “You
have a couch?”

I laughed.  “Over
here.”

He grabbed me, and we
kissed passionately.  We walked backward and tumbled on the
couch and continue to kiss.  He was
so
good at kissing,
I could have been satisfied with that alone.

After a moment, he stopped
and pulled back.  His face was twisted into a scowl.  I
sat up and pulled away from him.

“
What's wrong?” I
asked.

“
It's just--” He
sighed.  “I haven't been able to...perform.”

“
I don't
understand.”

He ran a hand through his
hair.  “There have been others.  Not too recently, but
others.”

I nodded and tried not to
cry.  I should have guessed that a god like him would never be
a virgin like me, but it was hard to hear.

“
But I've never been able
to...that is, I've never had...”

I looked down and saw where
he was gesturing.  “Oh. 
Oh
.”

He nodded dejectedly. 
“It's not uncommon for my kind.  Some of us can
only...
perform
if we're trying to produce
offspring.”

I wanted to cry again, but
this time, I wanted to cry for him and not for me.  I shifted
forward and hugged him.  “It's okay,” I said.  “I've
never been with a man before, anyway.  It's enough just to be
with you.”