Of Royal Descent (24 page)

"I
don't care what you say Russell.  The next person who tries to lay a hand on my child is getting more than a Roman candle up his keister," said my mother, cocking her gun.

19

"I'm going in.  Gretchen, you and Stephen stay here," said Russell, peering over the hood of the SUV.  He darted toward the entrance of the convenience store, keeping his gun pointed low.  Pressing his back against the wall, he prepared to enter as Chuck pushed through the exit on the other side.  My father, only being able to see the door opening, sprung out from the wall, leveling his aim at Chuck's head.

"Dammit!  Would you please stop pointing guns at me!" yelled Chuck, clutching his chest.

Immediately Russell lowered his weapon.  "Who screamed?  What's going on?"

Jenny and Kai came through the door, laughing.

"That was the funniest thing I've ever seen!" Kai said, trying to catch her breath and wiping at her eyes.

"How is that possibly funny?  Being afraid of something is not funny.  Did I laugh at you when you screamed for me to kill that spider the other day?" shot Chuck.

"Uh, yeah, a little," Kai mused, still smiling.

"Whatever.  That was different," Chuck said.

"Will somebody please tell me what is going on!" shouted Russell.

"
Dad, you should have seen it.  We were getting a soda from the cooler when Chuck turned the corner and saw a life-size cut-out of Grayson Lee.  He screamed, jumped three feet in the air, and knocked over a candy bar display trying to get away!" Jenny struggled to say as she continued to laugh just as hard as Kai.

"Let's go," said Chuck, stomping back toward the Infiniti.

Russell holstered his gun, as did Gretchen and Stephen.  When everyone was once again back in their respective vehicles, we pulled away from the gas station.  The girls tried, really tried, to suppress their laughter.  But the more they tried, the funnier it became, until even I couldn't help snickering at the situation. 

Chuck swiveled in his seat to face me, betrayal etched in his features. 
"Et tu, Brute?"

"C'mon, man.  You gotta admit that it sounds kind of funny," I said, smiling.  Chuck's expression didn't change.

"I'm officially turning into the Boogie Man.  I'm the one who little kids are checking for under their bed at night.  It just doesn't seem right that the best friend of such a feared entity should be afraid of Grayson Lee.  It makes you look like a... a..."

"Sissy?" offered Kai.

Chuck narrowed his eyes before returning to face out the windshield.

"I was not going to say
sissy
," I said, still trying to wipe the smile from my face.  Chuck didn't reply.

"You are
obviously
not a sissy," I continued, in my effort to pacify Chuck.  "You were willing to save your friend from the clutches of mad scientists while surrounded by free roaming zombies.  Not many people would.  And by the way, thanks for saving me. 
Again
."

This seemed to have a sobering effect on the girls, as was my design, and the laughing quieted.

"Yeah, Chuck, thanks.  I owe you for helping save my brother," said Jenny seriously.

I saw Chuck's shoulders slightly lower.  He tuned to look at Kai.

"What?" she asked.

He rolled his eyes and slumped down in his seat.

"Fine.  You were very brave in your effort to save your monster friend.  It was nearly swoon-worthy.  Okay?"

"It doesn't count when you say it like that," Chuck sulked.

My father pinched the bridge of his nose.  He mumbled something under his breath as we continued to barrel down the freeway.

* * *

A little over four hours and countless morphine injections later, we crossed over railroad tracks, and the blacktop road disappeared.  The SUV bounced over rough gravel, and I clenched my teeth.  Stephen readied another syringe.

"Seriously?
  Where are we?  It's like we fell off the map.  There's been nothing for miles." Kai asked, reading my mind.

"We just hit
Glenmary.  These are small towns back in here.  That's the point.  We don't need any extra attention while Doyle shades," Russell answered.

Fifteen minutes passed and the gravel gave out to a narrow
, one lane, dirt road.  Up the mountain we climbed, flanked by thick foliage on either side.  The area was so wooded that in several places, the sky was completely eclipsed.  With the canopy effectively choking out the moonlight, we were left with only our headlights to slice through the darkness.  We slowly progressed further into the wilderness.

It was easy to imagine we were the only people within a hundred miles.  So I was genuinely surprised every time we passed a house en route to our own.  Some of them were wooden shacks in such a state of disrepair that a strong wind surely would have crumpled them like a house of cards.  They were exactly how I pictured the
house of the second pig to look.  You know, the one who built his house out of twigs.

But there were a couple nice houses too. 
Large, two-story Georgian colonials with a beautiful view overlooking the mountain.  These were set off quite a distance from us and were nestled in a large clearing.

We continued on for another ten minutes
, and at last we came to the end of the dirt road.  Russell turned onto an unmarked path and steered his way through the forest. 

"Uh, I don't think this is a road," said Chuck.

"It's not; it's our driveway," replied Russell.  I strained my eyes to search the woods beyond the headlight beams and could barely make out the front of a house.

Russell navigated between the trees and soon we parked in the front yard, if a person could call it that.  A small portion of the land had been cleared but had long since grown over with knee-high brush. 

Russell exited the SUV and leaned his head through the open door.  "Everybody wait here a minute.  Let me get the lights turned on."

We all sat silently as my father made his way up the porch and unlocked the front door.  He slipped inside and the interior lit up.  The porch light also flickered on, bathing us all in a warm glow.

With better lighting, I studied my new home.  It was a large ranch-style house that looked like it had been built right into the mountain.  There was a mound of earth and rock where the back of the house should have been.

Russell re
-emerged and, assisted by Stephen, withdrew me from the SUV.  Together, they carried me inside the house, through the living room, and into a study.  Giant bookcases from floor to ceiling lined two of the four walls.  Against the other walls sat a large mahogany desk directly opposite a leather sofa positioned in front of a large, double casement window.

At first I thought it was Russell's intention to lay me on the couch, but as we stepped further into the room, we approached one of the bookshelves.  Dad readjusted my body weight as he ran his hand along one of the ledges.

"There it is," he said, pulling on a hidden marker.  A panel of the bookcase swung out and a hidden staircase was revealed.

"Sweet!" remarked Chuck. 

I rolled my head to the side and could see everyone had followed us in, like I was the leading float in a parade.  Addy was at the very end of the line.  She smiled at me as Russell started down the stairs.  My last shot of morphine was quickly wearing off, and I was hoping my tour of the house was nearly complete.

Someone flicked a light switch and bright, fluorescent lighting blazed overhead.  We were standing in a large, finished basement.  The walls were a pa
le blue, soothing color.  Gray berber carpeting covered the floors.  The right side of the room consisted of a sitting area with a large screen television surrounded by oversized couches.  However, I really never noticed any of this until later.  It was the left side of the room that caught my eye.  Almost half of the basement was behind iron bars, and I didn't need a mystical sixth sense to tell me I was staring at my bedroom.

But just because I was to be under lock and key didn't mean my mother hadn't decorated my cell.  A queen-size bed with navy blue linens and comforter was pushed into the corner.  Photographs of our family dotted the walls right next to some type of metal restraining device.  An overfilled bookshelf and writing desk were opposite the bed
, and I could see an open doorway leading to a bathroom in the back.

Russell and Stephen carried me across the room, through the cell door, and positioned me onto the bed.

"Well, this is... just...
charming
," said Chuck, scoping out the bars of my prison.

"Tell me what you think of the bars in a few more days," I said in a humorless tone.

"They're only temporary sweetheart, just for the second shade," Gretchen said in a rush.  "Once you've entered the third shade, you'll be capable of learning to control it.  And we'll teach you how."

I grimaced.  "I don't want the bars to be temporary," I said, imagining how safe I'd
have felt if William, who'd had over forty years to learn to control himself, were free to wander our house.

"
You don't mean that.  You'll see, it'll be alright," she said, kissing me on the forehead.  I saw her eyes glaze with potential tears, so I dropped it.  But I was determined to make them understand when the time came.

Addy still hovered at the back of the crowd.  I crooked my finger to motion her closer.  She came forward but remained timid as she kneeled by my bed.

"Well, it looks like he's settled in.  Let's give him some privacy," said Russell, herding everyone back to the stairwell.

"Addy, here's the narcs," Stephen said, handing over a duffel bag before joining the group.

The cell door was left wide open.  It felt strange after living at the clinic for the last week and a half.

I looked at Addy.  She stared at the sheets.

"I am not mad, okay?  But what were you possibly thinking?  After everything you saw, why would you trust Bradbury?" I asked softly.

She licked her lips and met my gaze.  "One day I'm going to die.  Only I won't come back like you will.  I'll stay dead.  Edgar offered me a chance to be with you always
, and I had to take it.  He said we’re bonded, so maybe that explains my overpowering desire to be near you.  Don't you feel it too?"  Her eyes clouded over with tears.

"Oh Addy, of course I do," I said, touching her cheek with my palm.  "But are you really willing to turn yourself into a monster?  It's painful, very painful.  And it's scary.  I don't know how my parents can expect me to learn to control it.  They may be overestimating me.  I'm terrified they're going to let me roam free.  What if someone I love annoys me?  I saw Dylan shade in a second.  That's all it will take, a second, and then who's to say I wouldn't kill my own family?  I w
on’t allow you to go through any of it.  Do you understand?"  I cupped her chin.

"
Allow me
?" she smiled.

"That's right, Adeline Murray," I said seriously.  "I forbid you to ever undergo the injection. 
Ever."

"This isn't the 1800's," she said playfully.  When she saw I wasn't backing down, she tried another tactic.  "Best case scenario, I die of old age.  Is that what you want?  What if I develop some other disease, one you have no control over?  Could you really watch me die from something you could have prevented?"

"You're asking me permission to let you die now.  How is that preventing death?"

She looked away.  "We can talk about this another time.  I don't want to upset you."

"Then promise me you won't inject the virus."

"Doyle...
Please don't," she whispered.

"Do you want me to die knowing you refused my last wish?"  It was a cheap shot and I knew it.  But if it worked,
I didn’t care.

"That's not fair," she said, shaking her head.

"Lots of things aren't fair.  Was it fair when I was forced into shading?  Was it fair to Chuck that I've jeopardized his life?  Is it fair that I'll die in physical
and
emotional pain when you can prevent at least one of those?"

A long silence stretched out
, and I refused to be the first one to break it.

"Okay, I promise you I won't even consider the possibility until you've learned to control yourself in the third shade.  And I promise I won't do anything even then unless we talk about it first.  That's the best I can give you."

It wasn't exactly what I had been hoping for, but she did promise not to do anything before talking it over with me.  I knew not even the third shade would change my point of view, so I was willing to accept the compromise she was offering.

"Thank you," I said, relieved.

She walked to the end of the bed and carefully removed my shoes.  Setting them beside the footboard, she picked up the duffel bag Stephen had left.  She sat it on the floor, within reach.  Then slowly, delicately, she unbuttoned her jeans.

"What are you doing?" I asked nervously.  "My entire family is upstairs."