Blood Rage, page 4
She stops and I wait. When no further information is forthcoming I nudge her with my elbow.
“So?”
“Moarwell isn’t like Angbec. In fact I don’t think there’s anywhere like Angbec. It’s not about my family but the people of the village. If they learn my family have any connection to edanes, beyond professional ones, they could be ostracised. Shunned. They might even lose their license to foster.”
“What?” This nonsense slaps hard, like a smack to the face. “That’s stupid, I—”
“Have you ever left Angbec?” Rayne murmurs.
I have to pause at that. The question gives me sudden verbal whiplash, and I struggle to pull myself into this new conversation.
“Yeah, of course I have. Why?”
“But have you ever lived outside Angbec? Or visited any smaller towns?”
I shrug. “Sure. In fact, we did it together before Wendy…I mean before. Remember, we went to that small town down south to clear chittarik hatchlings from a storm drain?”
She smiles. “Oh, they were so cute.”
“They were pests. But at least Norma was able to make herself useful for once.”
My pet lifts her head in my direction, chittering softly at the back of her throat, before settling in closer to Rayne again. The pocket flap of skin beneath her chin flares slightly as she breathes.
“She made a great surrogate dam. Those hatchlings survived purely because of her.”
And indeed they had. Norma took in the clutch with no prompting at all, cleaning them, feeding them, teaching them as though they were her own. Despite myself it had been a little sad to see them go.
“But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Rayne pins me with a firm look. “We only visited that village for a short time, we didn’t stay. We didn’t even have much of an opportunity to speak with the locals. We arrived, we picked up the hatchlings, and we left.”
“So?”
“So you’ve no experience of what it is truly like living outside of a city like this.” Rayne’s voice takes on a frustrated edge. “Of visiting a place where some people still don’t believe edanes are real.”
I snort. “Oh, come on, don’t they watch the news? Have they opened their eyes?”
“Danika, I’m serious. Moarwell is one of those places. Edanes are a weird and wonderful fairy tale for children or inpatients. Bubi might have been a Rancher, but it was never comfortable for him. It was a fight. Every day.”
“So you can’t go back home because some idiots in your hometown can’t get with the times? The Interspecies Relations Act passed more than five years ago. Did they miss the memo?”
Serious and unblinking, Rayne stares me down. “If the locals of Moarwell learn of my family’s connection to me, they could be run out of town.”
I nod decisively. “Guess that means we’ll have to be subtle when we go over there.”
“What?” Rayne’s eyebrows shoot towards her hairline. Even Norma gives a grumpy little snort and glares at me with her head cocked to one side. “You can’t be serious.”
I stand. “Of course I am. Why should you have to miss your sister’s wedding just because a bunch of middle-aged idiots haven’t noticed the world changing around them?”
“But—”
“But nothing. You should visit them. You should see your little sister before her wedding, and you should get the chance to see your parents again.”
“I can’t.”
“Of course you can. We’ll go tomorrow, stop in for a day or two, give you some time to be with them and reconnect. No one will even know we’re there.”
“We?” Rayne’s voice becomes a high squeak. “You’re coming too?”
“Of course. As if I’d let you do something like that without any emotional support. Who do you think I am?”
As if I’d pass up the opportunity to get away from SPEAR and tests and the pitying looks of my old team, for a couple of days. But I keep that part to myself.
“Think about it. We’ll just book into a B & B somewhere on the edges and go into Moarwell to visit. I could even contact them beforehand to warn them we’re coming, rather than just showing up.” I snap my fingers. “In fact, yeah, I think that’s better. I’ll tell them who I am and that I have some information about Emily Friedman. And then we can meet them together and give you a chance to reintroduce yourself as who you really are.”
Rayne goes very quiet. And still. It’s that creepy, spooky stillness that only edanes are capable of. The sudden cessation of every sign that the woman before me is a living creature and not a beautiful, lifelike statue.
Her lips part, and I watch a small string of saliva stretch between them before breaking. She’s nervous.
“I don’t know.”
“I do.” The idea is firmly rooted now. I can’t stop myself from grinning and pacing back and forth across the rug in front of her.
Norma leaves Rayne’s side and hops to the ground beside me, matching each of my steps with five of her own, trotting back and forth in the wake of my pacing.
“Don’t you want to see them again?”
“Of course I do, but—”
“And don’t you want to go to Viola’s wedding?”
“Danika,” she snaps.
The words die on my lips.
She unfurls gracefully from the sofa and walks up to meet me. Her skin is soft and warm against mine as she grips my hands in hers.
“Stop. Calm down.”
“But—”
“No”—her voice takes on the tiniest growl—“I’m speaking now.”
I slap my lips shut with a meek mm-hmm sound.
She stares up at me for long, thoughtful seconds. Her gaze is deep and piercing, her expression pensive. At last she shifts her grip on my fingers to lift my hands to her lips. She kisses the back of each one in turn. “Thank you. Truly. I know you mean well and that the idea excites you, but it isn’t as simple as all that. There is so much for me to consider.”
My lips tremble with the effort to keep them closed.
“I have to go to work now. Maury wants me to look over a few new files from the Fire Fangs, and even the Dire Wolves have a meet with us.”
All thoughts of family, weddings, and small rural villages fly from my mind.
“The Dire Wolves? You mean Aleksandar?”
Rayne’s hands tighten on mine, as though she senses my flare of anger.
“He’s still under the terms of his community service agreement with City Hall. He’s required to check in with us three times a week.”
“He and I need a quiet word.”
“The pair of you need to stay away from each other for the foreseeable. That’s another of the terms he’s operating under.”
“I’ll break his neck.”
“He’ll eat your face,” she says simply.
I laugh. Can’t help it. It’s so very odd to hear her talk like me, even for a moment.
And just like that, the growing tension and distress bubbles to its head and breaks.
Her hands loosen on mine, and at their loss I jab my fingers into the warmth of my underarms. “I hate this.”
“I know,” she murmurs. “But those files are for you, so I need you rested before your day shift. So will you try to get some rest?”
I wag a finger at her. “That was slick, Rayne, but don’t think we’re done. I think seeing your family would be good for you and—”
“And rest is good for you. You’ll need some sleep before the next round of tests.”
Eye roll. Ugh. I’d almost forgotten about those.
She steps away then and smiles a small half-smile. “Will you at least try?”
“I guess. If I can’t even win a game of poker, then maybe I really am tired.”
Rayne has already found her coat and shrugged into it. A moment later, she’s feeding her feet into ankle high boots with a zip up the side. “You can’t play poker.”
I follow her into the hallway and lean against the wall. “Of course I can. We play all the time.”
“Perhaps.” She taps her bottom lip with the tip of her finger. “But you were playing with Noel and Jadzia, I assume?”
“Of course.” I toss my head. “Who the hell else isn’t at work right now?”
Rayne nods as though confirming a long considered thought. “Well…Noel has known you for years, and Jadzia is a Grey Tail, so it’s a little unfair, wouldn’t you say?”
What the ever-loving hell is she talking about?
Spying my expression, Rayne grins and slings a bag over her shoulder. “Wow, you really are tired. Rest. Please. I’ll see you before sunup.” She darts over and pushes up on tiptoe to press a dainty kiss to the side of my cheek.
“Um, yeah, I guess.”
I watch her leave, trying to figure out exactly what she’s talking about. Only when she has walked fully out of sight does the truth hit me.
I gasp. Frown. Stamp my foot.
“Fuck’s sake, Noel!”
Fuming, I march back into the kitchen to snag my phone from the table where I left it earlier. I open up the messaging app and fire off a quick text: Oi, dickface. I want my matchsticks back.
Only a minute or two passes before the response arrives: Oh, sore loser, chica. Jadz and I will happily play again for you to make back your little sticks.
I grit my teeth. Screw you. Jadz is a Grey Tail. She can smell when I’m lying, you sneaky little shit.
A few more minutes. The next response to hit my phone is a long line of cry-laugh emoji.
Ugh. Maybe I am tired.
The phone trills again, with a second, even longer line of cry-laugh emoji. And a pointing finger.
I leave the phone on the table and stomp towards my bedroom. Halfway there, Norma catches up with me and flies up to my shoulder to rub her face against my cheek in what she probably hopes is a comforting way.
“Yeah, you’re right,” I murmur to the faithful pest. “Sleep it is. At least for a couple hours.”
“Dan, dan, nika, dan,” says Norma in her most helpful tone.
Chapter Five
Cold again. Like always. The only windows funnel frigid air through the entire house. It lifts tablecloths, rustles curtains, and jerks framed photos from their wall hooks. In the middle of it stands a tall, broad-shouldered figure with locs just like mine, though longer and streaked with grey. A figure in the familiar colours of store security.
“Daddy?”
Oh. That voice doesn’t sound like mine. It’s smaller, almost dainty. In fact, everything about me is petite and childlike, from my hands to my pretty toes, locked into patent leather sandals. And my locs aren’t even locs yet, just a wild tangle of dense curls unsuccessfully tamed into cornrows.
Then I’m flying, swept into the air by the big man and his strong, fatherly arms.
“Bean,” he cries.
I laugh and cling to him, playing my fingers through the long lengths of his hair. “Daddy, where did you go? I’ve not seen you in forever and evers.”
“Forever and evers?” A laugh. “That’s a very long time.”
“I know. I missed you.”
He strokes my cheek gently. “I know, Bean. I missed you too. But…” The stroking stops. Becomes a rough prodding. Then a scratching. “But it’s your fault.”
“Daddy?”
But he’s holding tighter now, pinning me to him with one great bear arm, while the other hand pries my mouth open.
“Your fault.” His words are a rattling hiss, like gravel rolling through the inside of empty tin cans. “I’m gone now. Because of you. You did it. You did.”
“Da—” But he chokes my words with his fingers. Shoves the huge digits between my lips and holds them open.
“Your fault, Danika.” His mouth hangs open, and dark smoke begins to billow out. Small threads at first, which grow quickly into longer and thicker threads like snakes. Snakes that curl and wind their way towards my open mouth.
I try to scream. The sound is stuck.
I wriggle. Kick at empty air.
The smoke snakes glide between my parted lips and straight down, filling me, choking me.
More smoke billows in inky-black clouds, thick and sooty and heavy with the scent of death and decay.
Through it all, my father’s eyes gleam sunshine yellow, each cut in half by the long, narrow slit of a reptilian pupil.
“Be still, Bean. My bird. Bean bird. Little bird.”
Screams claw from my gut, forced up and through the billowing smoke, but the more air leaves my body, the more of that awful stuff goes in. More and more, filling me, tainting me, corrupting me.
The skin across my back erupts with white hot pain.
I can’t see. Can’t think. Can’t breathe. Can’t move.
“Your fault, little bird. And I’m coming for you. For you, little bird. I’m coming. I’m coming.”
My last scream morphs into terrified whimpers of agony and terror and a single, plaintive cry.
“No—!”
* * *
I grab at the smoke, the tendrils, the source of my pain. My hands close on something warm and scaly. My entire body shudders with revulsion.
Shoulders tense, I tighten my grip and prepare to throw.
“Dan, dan, dan, dan, dan dan—”
An instant later my fingers flex. Release. Norma lands hard on my face, shrieking and batting her tiny claws against my cheeks.
I have just the presence of mind not to shove her away before I finally come to my senses. I’m awake. There is no smoke. Or yellow eyes. Or forced ingestion of some strange, otherworldly force.
There are tears, though. And sweat. I’m caked in both, and my body shudders with it. The pyjamas I elected to wear to bed are drenched, my hair dripping. My duvet lies on the floor at the other end of the room while the lamp to my side table lies in pieces on the ground.
Norma settles beside me at last, her yells reduced to a concerned growling.
I see this, because the curtains are, for some reason, wide open, and moonlight streams in unabated, cool and silver.
“Fuck…”
“Karson!”
“Norma, baby—” Before I can finish, she dives at me, straight into my arms, wedging her entire body into the space beneath my chin. She clings like I’ve never known her to, wings rigid, tail tense and locked.
“Nika, dan, kar, dan. Son, son.”
Who even needs the comfort right now? Me? Her? Both?
No idea. So I hold her. Hold her while my heart rate begins to slow and my skin prickles with goosebumps from the chilling sweat.
We sit like that for a long time.
The house around us is silent. I’ve no idea of the time, but both Rayne and Pippa are out. They must be, because neither of them is hammering at my door right now.
I know I must have been crying. Screaming, even. Thrashing around the bed like a woman possessed, all in my sleep. The tears on my face dry crusty and stiff on my cheeks, which are sore and stinging.
Did Norma scratch me? Did I scratch myself?
I return to myself in that time, holding my pest of a pet, gazing sightlessly at the opposite wall.
I would close my eyes, but it doesn’t matter. Each time I do, I see my father and his safe, warm eyes taken over by those horrible, frightening yellow ones. I hear his voice change. Feel the vile clench of his hands on my weak, frail child’s body. Smell the decay of the smoke pouring from his mouth.
“Fuck…”
Yeah. Maybe I am tired. But at least I know why.
An abrupt burst of hip-hop music jolts me off the bed and Norma out of my arms. She starts yelling again, and I lower my face to my hands.
My mobile phone is still downstairs, right where I tossed it after yelling at Noel. If I can hear it from here, that means it has rung several times already, with the notification sounds increasing in volume each time.
Surely it’s not Rayne. She wouldn’t call me during the sleep portion of my day unless she really had to. And none of the house warning systems have alerted me to the coming sunrise. It must still be pretty late.
Norma darts up and across the room, dumping her entire body on the knob to open the door. Unfortunately my bedroom door isn’t a handle like others in the house, so she succeeds only in sliding off it with a graceless splat.
“Son, daaaan?”
“Yeah, yeah.” I stand to let her go, and she shoots out of the room, leaving me to retrieve the duvet and shattered pieces of my lamp. It’s ugly, thankfully, with garish swirl designs in gold and silver around a stylised scene of the Garden of Gethsemane.
Oh well. Another reason for Mum to avoid talking to me.
“Fuck…”
A nightmare. Again. The same one, in fact. Four nights in a row.
For the fourth night in a row I strip down the soaked bed and cart the sheets down to the laundry room. If I’m quick, I can rinse them out and get them through the dryer before Rayne comes home.
Harder to explain will be my fatigue, though. That isn’t as simple as a quick wash and dry.
My eyes feel grainy when I rub them, my cheeks dry and gross.
Like the yellow-eyed creature.
A shudder ripples down my body.
Why? Why now after so long has this thing started to invade my dreams? And is it an invasion? Am I being possessed like Flint Liddell was?
Not for the first time do I reconsider my decision to keep the dreams to myself. Four nights in a row, perhaps, but more before that. Nights filled with dreams of loved ones hunting me down over empty fields of inky black, the only colour the yellow of their eyes. Rayne, Jack, Pippa, Mum, even Quinn at one point, attacking from a darkness that swirls like clouds of midnight smoke.
And now, Dad.
I dump a cup of laundry liquid into the machine drum, then fill the insert tray with softener.
