Of Royal Descent (29 page)

"How so?"
I narrowed my eyes.

Stephen smiled sarcastically.  "How do you think?"

Addy took a step back and held out her hand to Stephen.  "No, stop, it's too much," she pleaded.

"You
wanna say something, say it!" I screeched at him, feeling my skull adapt to the eye shift.

"Who do you think she ran to that night to console her?  You sent her straight to my bed.  And let me just say, you have
no idea
what you missed out on," Stephen related gleefully, careful to keep his gaze cast downward to avoid eye contact.

I screamed and pitched against the metal.  I felt the fire envelop me and blaze out of control. 

"You're hurting him!" Addy shouted.

"What do you care?" Stephen asked.  He pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

Feral noises came from me as I felt my predatory teeth lengthen.  My bindings tightened as I realized I was growing underneath them.  And then it was over.  I looked down at my chest and it was my own.  Not the blue, rotting chest of the last two weeks, but my own normal chest.  The bindings felt looser again.  I looked up at Addy and Stephen.

"Doyle, I'm sorry.  We had to.  It was the only way to force you into the third shade," she said, rushing at me.  She wrapped her arms around my waist.

"Yeah, sorry about that," said a sheepish Stephen.  "The only way to force the third shade before its regularly scheduled time is to elicit a severe emotional response.  Usually, a mixture of hunger, lust, and anger do the trick."

I didn't answer.

"I did warn you it would be unpleasant," Stephen reminded me.

I struggled to open my mouth.  "So you didn't sleep with Addy?"

"No," he said, shaking his head.

"I can't believe you
would even think that!" Addy shouted at me.

A delayed relief response began to flow through me
, and I sagged against the restraints. 

"I guess you're a good a
ctress," I said, smiling.  "And please don't hit me again."

She lowered her eyes.

"That
was
part of the act, wasn't it?"

A ghost of a grin played at the corners of her mouth. 
"Of course."

"Hey," I said, forcing her to look up at me.  "I'm sorry, truly, for the things I said and the way I acted.  I wouldn't blame you if you left."

She pushed up on her toes and kissed me.

"Careful," Stephen said, clearing his throat.  "Let's give him time to learn control first.  We wouldn't want any accidental bites."

The smell of the meat hit me again and the row of sharp daggers unsheathed from my gum line.  Addy stepped back.

"Let's leave him to his dinner," Stephen said softly, taking her by the arm.  I didn't want her to go, but I knew I needed to eat in order to control the involuntary shading.

"I'll be back later," she said with a little wave.

Stephen clicked the remote
, and then they were gone.  I tore into my dinner, not pausing long enough to pull out the feathers.

22

"I promised you a fresh kill when you got your teeth, so let's see what they can do," said Stephen. 

He had returned shortly after I devoure
d my dinner to find me pulling feathers from between my teeth.  Accompanying him were Russell and Gretchen, who were every bit as eager for me to begin training as I was.

Stephen held up a caged rat triumphantly. 

"Rat?" I struggled to ask skeptically.  I'd momentarily forgotten how difficult it was for royals to speak human when shaded.

"Don't get all high and mighty on me.  You are a zombie
, and meat is meat," he said, ushering the rat through the dinner slot.  It ran along the wall and stopped in the corner to evaluate its new environment.  Its whiskers twitched as it sniffed the air and turned to face me.  A stare down with vermin is not how I had envisioned spending my first night as a royal, so I decided to give stalking a try.

I instinctively crouched and crawled like a giant zombie spider toward my prey.  Slowly, I approached, all the while swaying my upper torso and head.  I didn't know exactly why, but it felt natural.  To my amazement, the rat just stood there, watching me.  I lunged, teeth first, and nailed my target.  Fresh rat meat was better than I expected.  It was flavorful and tender and put every other type of meat I'd eaten in the second shade to shame.  I closed my eyes and savored the taste before letting the tiny
body fall to the floor.  When I looked down, I could see a mouth-shaped hole where its stomach had been.

"That was perfect, Doyle.  But here comes the real test," said Stephen.  An anxious Gretchen leaned forward for a better view.

The rat shuddered before beginning to rise.

"The smaller the animal, the quicker the virus takes over and it reanimates," he said as he armed himself with a shovel.  "Okay, now control the rat."

Control the rat?  How was I supposed to do that?

"Tell it not to attack us," Russell said, focusing on the zombified rodent slowly making its way to the door of the cage.

"Stop, rat," I said with awkward pronunciation.  I looked at Stephen helplessly as it continued its current course.

"No, in the language of the royals," he instructed.

With zero confidence in my communication abilities, I barked roughly, and was amazed when the tiny creature stopped in its tracks.  I sounded a couple of yips and a moan, and it began to double back.

Gretchen smiled.  "He's always been a fast learner," she whispered proudly in my father's direction.  "Remember how fast he took to potty training?"

Russell didn't reply, but he did flash a quick smile.

The rat stopped at my feet and stared straight ahead.
  I looked up at Stephen, asking "What now?" with my eyes.

"Kill it," Stephen answered.

I stared down at the small animal I was about to destroy and thought how easily it had reanimated.  All it would take was one careless moment on my part, one quick indulgence of human flesh, and the future of humanity could hang in the balance.  How easy it would be for me to find myself standing on ground zero of an unintentional zombie apocalypse.  I brought down the heel of my foot and with a twist, snuffed out the life force of the undead rat.

"Excellent," said Stephen, lowering his shovel.  "Now just do that a dozen more times and we'll begin your first lesson in control."

"What?"

Russell walked around the corner and returned with several more rats crammed into another cage.

"You have to be fully sated before we can begin your training," Gretchen explained.

"You did so well with only one.  Would you like more of a challenge?" Stephen asked.

I didn't have time to answer before Stephen loosed the entire cage of rats all at once into my cell.  They took off in every direction, and I reflexively pursued them one by one until, like the original, their tiny skulls were ground into the floor.

"Great, let's get started," smiled Stephen.  "The first thing we're going to work on is learning to control shading back to human form.  This will be your first line of defense from killing random strangers as well as your family."

Gretchen smiled and gave me a pinky-wave.

Stephen continued.  "You will be able to speak and think much more clearly if you're not shaded into royalty.  And your desire to feed, kill, or whatever, will be
somewhat lessened as a human.  It's much easier if you relax, so I want you to take a couple deep breaths."  He blew out an exaggerated breath and inhaled deeply.  I followed his example.

"F
rom what I understand, you're decent with computers, so try to imagine human form as a software application.  It's already been installed.  You just need to figure out the password to unlock it.  It can be anything:  a person, thing, place.  The trend of passwords for all royals shows a common denominator of safety, so try focusing on words that make you feel safe."

Safe?
 
I felt my eyebrows arch.

"The theory is that wild animals need to know there is no danger before possessing the potential to be tamed," offered Russell.

Okay, safe.  Let's see.
  I knew I was safe with Addy.  I concentrated on her name, but found myself growing much less calm.  I reined it in. 
Okay, the word definitely wasn't Addy.

Next, I tried the words "Gretchen" and "Russell", respectively.  No luck.

I cracked my knuckles and sat on the floor.  Closing my eyes, I tried again.  I cycled through a list of the obvious words:  Chuck, Mom, Dad, home, light, lighthouse, harbor.  Then I tried slightly less obvious words containing some that perhaps made only sense to me:  college, bed, childhood, library, trail, lamp, cage.  Nothing worked.

I sighed.

"It's okay, Doyle.  Rushing yourself will only increase your anxiety and slow your progress.  You can try thinking of more words tomorrow.  In the meantime, let's work on controlling yourself while shaded," Stephen said.

"Go ahead," he motioned to my father.  Russell glanced at me before ascending the stairs
, and Stephen turned to address me again. 

"I'm sure it comes as no surprise that all royals prefer live meat.  For example, I know that those rats tasted like a culinary delight compared to what you've been eating.  But did you know that the higher up the food chain you go, the better the taste?"

A waft of unrecognizable scent floated down to me as Russell's returning footsteps carried it closer.  When he turned the corner, I could see he held a sheep in his arms.  I was temporarily paralyzed with excitement.  Something bigger, fresher, tastier.  I unfurled my elongated tongue to run over the tips of my teeth.

"Strap
yourself in so we can bring in the sheep," my father instructed.

I forced my body to pivot and bolted to my restraints
on the wall.  Once the process of lock down was completed, Stephen opened the door for my father, who carried in the nervous sheep.  As soon as its legs hit the floor, it aimed for the door, but without success.  It was corralled inside while everyone remained safe beyond my reach.

"
I'm going to release you now," said Stephen.  "You are not to touch the sheep."

Come again?

Stephen looked amused at my expression.  "I know it will be hard.  That's why it's called a test.  You may not always have the luxury of shading into human form when it would be convenient.  You'll have to know how to stop yourself as a royal."  He released my locks, and I slid from the wall. 

The sheep fidgeted in the corner
, and I could taste the fear pouring out of it.  It was sweet on my tongue, and I hissed in frustration. 

"You're already doing excellent, Doyle.  Most royals can't last two seconds their first time resisting.  Keep going," Stephen encouraged.

"Can't," I managed in a mangled voice, dropping to a crouch.

"Think of Addy!" Gretchen interjected when I began to noiselessly stalk my prey.  I stopped and weighed my options.  On one hand, I had a mouth-watering meal just waiting for me to dig in.  But on the other hand, this was exactly the opportunity I had been aspiring to.  If I could control this, right now, my lust for fresh meat, then there was hope that one day I could be in control of my own body.  There was hope I could trust myself with Addy. 

I fell on my side in a fetal position, grabbing my knees to my chest.  My face contorted with a mixture of determination and pain.  I held my breath to keep out the scent and began chanting "Addy" repeatedly in my new language. 

"Just fifteen more seconds," said Stephen.

I rocked gently on the floor, shutting out the world.  Tears stung my eyes and I squeezed them shut.

Addy, Addy, Addy, Addy.

"That's it,
time's up.  You can eat it," Stephen said loudly.

I sprang up and crossed the room in one leap.  I sank my teeth into the side of the sheep and reveled in the heady delight.  I nearly passed out in my release.  But as it was, I continued to eat my fill before sitting back on my heels. 

The massacred animal in front of me didn't move.  I surveyed the damage while I waited.  Blood had splattered the wall and was continuing to pool underneath what remained of its body.  It ran in red rivulets down my shirt and arms.  The whole scene was surreal to me. 
This is who you are now.

The sheep gave a throaty, sinister bleat
, and I smashed in its skull with my fist.  I struck once more for good measure and felt the soft brain tissue slide around my knuckles.

"You've exceeded all expectations for your first day, Doyle," Stephen said solemnly.  "You should be proud.  Get some sleep.  We'll start early tomorrow."  Both he and Russell quietly left the basement.

Gretchen dabbed at the corner of her eye.  "That was good, sweetheart," she said with a small smile.  "I won't bother you while you try to sleep." 

She crossed the room and sat facing away from the cell but never turned on the television.  I sat on my bed and watched her shoulders tremble while she fought to keep her tears silent. 

Lying back on my pillow, I ran through more "safe" words.  Lock, security, peace, quiet, love, Maine.  My eyelids grew heavy, and I rolled onto my side.  Like the uncle who visits on Thanksgiving, eats way too much turkey, and then sleeps all afternoon, I began to give in to the food-induced drowsiness. 
How much happier the world would be if no one ever went to bed hungry
, I thought as I drifted off to sleep.

* * *

"Wow, it stinks down here.  You stink.  Like, really bad," said Jenny from arm's length of my cage door.

"Time it is?" I mumbled.

"Yeah, it's early.  But Mom and Dad made me wait until you were royalty before they would let me see you.  Something about how they thought I wouldn't be able to handle it.  And now you're officially royalty," she said with a sarcastic curtsy.  "And I didn't want to wait any longer.  Doyle, seriously though, turning into a zombie isn't a good enough reason to let yourself go."  She eyed the room disapprovingly. 

I looked around, as if for the first time, seeing my cell how she must have saw it.  Anima
l corpses scattered on the floor, sprays of blood covering the walls, floor, bedding, and myself, remains of the splintered writing desk piled in the corner.

"So, in lieu of our heart to heart I was planning on, I really must request you shower. 
Immediately."

I rolled over onto my side and pulled the pillow over my face.

"Look, do you or do you not care if Addy is attracted to you?"

I pulled the pillow from my face and focused on Jenny.

"You could at least
try
to look presentable.  The Doyle I knew took great pride in his appearance."

I grimaced.  I wanted to shoot back a witty reply, bu
t none were forthcoming.  Which I suppose was just fine, since the wit would have been lost in translation.  I drug myself to a standing position and lumbered into the bathroom.  Digging around in the closet, I pulled out a change of clothes with no blood stains. 
Girls could be so picky sometimes.

I closed the door, shutting Jenny out, and stepped into the tub.  Vaguely, I realized I hadn't showered since my "bed baths" with Addy.  I sniffed my armpit.  My entire face puckered instantly.  Zombie B.O. was definitely the worst.  I set the shower to hot and lathered twice.

When I had finished and was fully dressed once again, I opened the door and Jenny shook her head at me.  "You didn't brush your teeth," she scolded.

Brush my teeth?  Was she kidding?
  I was pretty sure there was a reason zombies didn't have dental plans.  It wasn't like I was going to get a cavity.  But I wasn't able to communicate my thoughts on the subject effectively yet, so I rolled my eyes and reached for the toothbrush on the sink.  I squeezed a line of toothpaste on top and after two passes along the front of my teeth, I realized the bristles had all been sheared off.  I glared at Jenny.