Thrall (18 page)

Kerns stood quickly. “I think that’s all we need for tonight.” Bierson nodded and closed his notebook. “Mr. Murphy, can I have a quick word?” Kerns gestured for Dad to follow her out. I sank back into the gurney, curling onto my good side. I felt my thoughts swimming, and noticed absently that the over-washed hospital sheets seemed to have no smell. They were stiff and cool against my face. I stayed curled on my side until Dad came back.

“Good job,” he murmured, stroking my hair. “I think they bought it.”

“Knock, knock,” my doctor said, pulling the curtains open. “I’ve got your x-rays.” He flipped on a light board over my bed and Dad and I turned to look. Hale had been wrong. My rib wasn’t cracked. It was broken. “There’s not too much we can do for you,” the doctor said. “It’s just going to take some time for you to heal. Keep them taped for a few days, but no longer. You need to be able to take deep breaths or you could develop lung problems down the road.”

By the time the hospital released me, it was dawn. I gingerly changed back into my blue dress. It felt strange walking into the morning light. The police left a patrol car behind to give us a lift. We couldn’t go home because the crime scene investigators hadn’t cleared it yet. So Dad asked the police to drive us to the Guard’s house.

Hale opened the door for us. He’d anticipated us; he’d made up beds in two of the vacant rooms upstairs. As Hale led us up the stairs, I saw Lucas in his room. Gretchen was in there with him, talking. Lucas stood as I passed, his face full of concern, but Gretchen caught his arm before he could come to me.

“Give her some space,” Gretchen said. “She’s never seen anyone die before.” She glanced at me, her expression ice.

But Lucas’ face was alive with feeling. His eyes held mine, steady, until Hale stopped in front of two doors at the end of the hallway. Each small room had a twin bed, curtains on the window, and nothing else.

“Let me know if you need anything,” Hale said. He clasped Dad’s hand, then glanced at me. My eyes traced the thin scar from his eyebrow down onto his cheek. Sometimes, like now, it almost disappeared against his skin. “She’s a credit to you, Murphy,” Hale said quietly. A warm smile spread over Dad’s face. Hale put his hands on my shoulders. “Rest for now. We’ll talk about what comes next when you’re feeling stronger.” Hale walked back to the stairs and down into the house below.

“Are you hungry?” Dad asked.

“No,” I said. “I just want to sleep.”

“About the club...”

Guilt twisted in my gut. “I know. I’m sorry.”

“I’m not trying to make you feel bad.” Dad’s voice dropped. “Considering everything that happened, it might be lucky that you were there. I’m bringing it up because...” He smoothed back my hair, and I realized he was fighting tears. My eyes started stinging in response. “I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are,” he said simply. I leaned into him and he wrapped his arms carefully around me in a tender hug. I yawned, and Dad released me. He pressed the bottle of pain pills we’d picked up at the hospital pharmacy into my hand. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

“Thanks.” I walked into one of the featureless rooms and closed the door. I eased the dress off, trying to move my ribs as little as possible. Someone had left a t-shirt for me. I lifted it off the bed. A slip of paper fluttered onto the bed. I picked it up. As I read the words, a giddy lightness filled my chest.

I left this shirt for you, in case you’d like something fresh to sleep in. It’s as close as I can get to holding you myself. – L

Someone knocked softly on the door. I slipped the note quickly under my pillow. “Yes?”

The door opened and Dad handed me a glass of water. “Good night,” he said.

“Thanks.” I looked at the window. The sun was starting to come up. Dad kissed me on the forehead and left.

I took one of the pain pills and washed it down with a gulp of water. Then, glancing nervously at the door, I pulled Lucas’ note out and reread it. His t-shirt smelled like clean laundry, but under that, it smelled like Lucas. I slipped it on and wrapped my arms around myself, breathing in his scent. I was still smiling as I climbed into bed, pulled the covers tight around me, and fell instantly and deeply asleep.

I slept like a rock until Dad woke me up, shaking my shoulder gently. The ever-changing marquee of my dreaming mind hadn’t made the nap very restful. Fragments of dreams, most full of anxiety and paranoia and fear, blended one into the next.

“I thought you were going to let me sleep,” I said, rubbing my eyes. I glanced at the window, confused by the afternoon light streaming through a crack in the curtains. “What time is it?”

“It’s nearly three o’clock.”

I did the math, and sighed. “Can I have just a few more hours?”

“Braedyn, it’s Sunday. You’ve been asleep for two and a half days.”

“What?” I sat up, blinking to clear my vision.

“You need to eat something.”

At the mention of food my stomach growled.

Dad nodded decisively. “Get dressed. We’re going out for lunch.” He tossed me a pair of my jeans and a fresh shirt. “I grabbed these for you.” He said, keeping his voice neutral. “I just got word from the police. We can go home tonight.”

I looked up sharply. Dad pulled the door closed as he left. I got out of bed and pulled Lucas’ t-shirt off. It wasn’t until I glanced down that I remembered my broken rib. Only... the pain in my side was almost gone. I peeled back part of the tape from my ribs. The skin beneath looked almost normal, just slightly discolored. I left the rest of the tape in place, unsettled. I fished Lucas’ hand written note out from under my pillow and slid it carefully into the pocket of my jeans.

I walked down the hall to Lucas’ room with his t-shirt in hand. His door was closed, so I knocked softly. Gretchen opened the door.

“And they keep telling me not to worry about you,” she said coolly.

“I was just returning this,” I said, holding out the t-shirt. Gretchen grabbed the front of my shirt and pulled me in close. “Hey...”

“You may have the rest of them fooled, little demon,” she whispered in my ear. “But if I ever find you alone with Lucas, I will kill you.”

Anger coursed through my body as I pulled out of her grip. “I would never hurt Lucas.”

“You’re everything he’s training to fight against,” Gretchen said. “And he trusts you. What do you think that will do to him when he finds out the truth?” She looked me straight in the eye, keeping her voice low. “You’ve already hurt him. He just doesn’t know it yet.”

Standing at the head of the flagstone path leading up to our house, my courage failed.

“Are you ready for this?” Dad asked, noticing my hesitation. I forced myself to nod. Sheets of plastic had been taped over the broken windows. Someone had cleared all the broken glass off the porch, but a few bits still glittered in the yard.

Dad opened the door. We walked into the foyer. Sunlight streamed in through the plastic and flooded the space with bright light. I saw the marks on the wall where Derek had swung the chair for Lucas’ head, but the splintered chair was gone.

I looked at Dad. “You cleaned everything up.”

“I didn’t want you to have to relive it any more than you’re already doing,” he said, squeezing my hand. “You’re my girl. You know that, right?”

I felt tears brimming in my eyes. I hugged him. “I know.” So what if he wasn’t my biological father? He was everything else. His arms tightened around me, then he released me.

“What are we eating?” he asked. “I can pick something up or,” he looked me over, worried. “If you don’t want to be alone, we can go out.”

“I’d rather stay here,” I said. “I should probably shower. It’s been a few days.”

“Are you in the mood for anything in particular?”

“Green chile chicken enchiladas,” I said. “With extra sauce.”

Dad smiled. “Well, your appetite has definitely recovered. I’ll be back ASAP.”

I watched him go, then headed upstairs to my room, locking the door. He didn’t need to know how hard it was being back in this house. Leaning against the door, I noticed a bit of bright paper in my trashcan. I bent and pulled out the birthday present I’d thrown away.

I opened it gingerly. Inside the box I found a note. It read,
I’ve always known which side you’re on.
Underneath the note there was a beautiful cameo carved with the image of an angel. She stood boldly, head held high, wearing an armored breastplate over the long folds of a voluminous robe. Graceful, sculpted wings draped down her back like a feathered mantle. She was both serene and powerful. The cameo hung from a short velvet cord. I swallowed against the sudden lump in my throat and fastened the cameo around my neck.

I noticed Lucas standing at his open window, resting his arms on the sill. When his eyes found mine he straightened, smiling warmly. His right hand was bandaged, and the red marks covering the left side of his face were darkening into sullen bruises. I moved to my window for a clearer view of him.

Lucas suddenly turned, speaking to someone behind him. He gave me a quick look, then closed his window and moved into his house. I saw Gretchen’s silhouette behind him, and drew away from the window quickly.

A few minutes later, I heard the door open downstairs. “That was fast,” I called, heading out to join dad for our meal. Three steps from the bottom of the stairs, I stopped.

A stranger stood in our foyer.

He was older than Dad, thin and wiry. His shaved head bristled with a spray of gray and white stubble. “You must be the demon Murphy thinks he’s tamed,” he said. I felt a chill pass over my skin. The stranger’s hand moved, brushing open the thick trench coat he wore. Metal glinted as he withdrew a Guardsman’s dagger. “Come closer.”

“Who are you?” I didn’t move from my place on the stairs.

“Someone you’ll learn to obey before the day is out,” he said simply. “Don’t make me ask again.” I glanced at the door behind him, judging my chances. The old man moved. Before I had time to register what was happening, I was sprawled on the floor of the foyer at his feet, gasping in surprise. “Get up,” he said, his voice measured. I picked myself up, wincing at the twinge in my side. The stranger walked around to face me. “I assume you know what happens when a Lilitu attacks a man?” He waited, but I only glared at him. “I’ve asked you a question.”

“Yes,” I said, bristling. “I know what happens.”

“Tell me.”

I answered through gritted teeth. “The first attack makes him weak. The second attack turns him into a Thrall. The third attack kills him.”

“You’ve left something out,” he said. I looked at him blankly. “So,” he murmured. “Murphy has spared you the full truth. A Lilitu only attacks the same man three times in order to have a child.” His eyes bore into me. “Do you understand what I’m saying? A human has to die in order for a Lilitu to be born.”

“I didn’t ask to be born,” I whispered, stricken.

The stranger’s eyes did not soften. He walked to the plastic-covered window and glanced out. “A few decades ago, the Guard realized our recruitment numbers were dropping off. We’d done our job a little too well. How do you make people join a fight against an enemy they don’t believe in?” He looked back at me and smiled a bitter smile. “Leadership decided we needed a Lilitu on our side. An ally with the enemy’s powers, someone who could help us keep an eye on them, someone who could prove the threat was real. And so they let an innocent man die in order to capture the pregnant demon who’d killed him.” He walked back toward me, raking his eyes over my body impersonally. “Lilitu biology is different from ours; it takes your kind less time to gestate. Within a few weeks, we had an infant Lilitu under our control.”

I stared at him, stunned. “What are you saying?” I breathed. Was this the story of my birth?

“They named the infant Karayan. As the best lucid dreamer in the Guard, I was charged with raising her.”

“What?” My eyes bulged in surprise.

“You may have fooled Murphy,” he said quietly. “But I know what you are. Your humanity has a limited shelf-life.”

“You don’t know anything about me,” I hissed. The stranger slapped me, hard enough to knock me back a step. Hot tears burned in the corners of my eyes. I glared at him.