Kindred (2 page)

TWO

Kindred

Gratitude
:
to be grateful.
I was familiar with the concept, but my life hadn't given many instances where I could use that particular emotion. Anger. Hatred. Fear. Those were more familiar, and easier to deal with. I had been… trained excessively in those emotions. Trevor Mason had taught them to me to such an extent that I could hardly feel anything else.

So when the Tracker had killed my master, I had been confused by the emotion I'd felt. I was finally free of my tormentor. For once, I could use my skills for me, instead of being forced to use them. And any profit that came from that would go to me and me alone. I sat on the edge of the bed in the dirty motel room and ran a cloth over the blade I held, relishing the freedom I had discovered. I had been liberated and was free to thank the person responsible for my sudden ability to choose my own actions.

Finding the Tracker's father had been easy. Mason had a phone number, and it was only a matter of calling him and setting up a meeting. He knew ‘John Doe’ from his previous contact with Mason, and hadn’t flinched at setting up a meeting. When he’d arrived, the John he knew—a quiet but intense Goth kid—had disappeared. What he’d seen instead, was my true form. The assassin who’d been trained in the art of pain and fear: Kindred. The man I’d become after Mason had been through with me. McCoy’s fate had been sealed with the first sign of hesitation he showed when he’d seen me change in front of him. Too easy, but still fun.

His friend had been harder to find, but I had finally succeeded. I took away his ability to trap or hurt the Tracker—Jason—again. My mind drifted as I idly flipped the knife in my hand. There had been other emotions that had been brought out when I witnessed the young street kid hanging from the ceiling of Mason's shed: sympathy and regret.

I regretted that the Tracker had to go through what I'd been through. It seemed like a waste. The kid had people who cared about him. Mason's actions would have kept him from his loved ones, and changed him into someone they wouldn't even recognize.

Exactly as he had done to me. I don't remember my life previous to working for Mason, but I don’t think I was ever completely on the side of legality. However, I did suspect that I'd had a family at some point. Perhaps they had even looked for me. Now I would be unrecognizable to them. I am no longer who I was before; I am no longer enslaved to anyone—I am no longer what Mason made me. Perhaps with time, the person I was before would emerge and reveal the secret of my past.

There was a knock on the door. I slipped the knife into the sheath I wore under my shirt and opened the door. "May I help you?" I asked the overweight deliveryman.

"Mr. Smith?" he asked, consulting the envelope and clipboard he held.

"Yes."

He held out the large envelope. "Have a good day," he said as I took the delivery.

I nodded absently, staring down at the envelope as I closed the door. I slid the picture out of the envelope, and committed the face to memory. Flipping the photo over, I saw the information I would need to find the man displayed on the front. There was also a phone number to call when the job was done. I slid the last thing out: a smaller envelope containing ten thousand dollars in cash. I would receive the rest when I called after the job was finished. My client had made contact; it was time to move.

I stuffed my few belongings into my bag with my clothes, put on a pair of latex gloves, and wiped down the entire room. Covering my tracks had become second nature to me after several years in Mason's service. My other talents came in handy for that as well. The woman at the check-in counter might remember a nondescript white man with light brown hair and dark eyes, while the delivery man would swear in court that the man he'd given the envelope to had been Latino. Neither would be correct. Covering my identity had become akin to breathing—it came automatically. That had been the main reason for the warning I'd placed in the last gift I'd given the Tracker. He might be the only one in the world who could find me, and I didn't want him to try.

I swept my gaze over the room once more, making sure I left nothing behind. It was clean, as far as motel rooms go, so I pulled the door shut and tried to decide where to go next. The man in the photograph lived on the other side of town, so I'd go there, find a motel, and follow my prey until I found my opportunity to strike. I felt a spike of adrenaline as I drove away from the dingy motel, and a smile appeared on my face. All thoughts of my past vanished with the excitement I felt now. There was nothing like a good hunting trip to make the blood flow.

THREE

Jason

After meeting with Alice and Dan, I headed to the park to meet Dustin, Hannah, and Sam. I found them quickly and walked over to the basketball court where Dustin and Sam were playing a game of Horse. I ignored the other people who were playing Frisbee in one area, and football in another, skirting around the edges of the games in order to reach the basketball court. Hannah sat on a bench on the sidelines, watching and laughing at Dustin's intense concentration as he lost to a twelve-year-old.

Dustin was letting Sam win, but he was doing a good job of looking like he was trying his hardest and kept the game close. The look of joy on my brother's face as he made the last basket made me smile. It was good to see him having fun. He hadn't been able to have much fun in his life, and now that we were in a relatively stable situation, he was able to be a kid again. If only his big brother wasn't so screwed up. I felt a pang of self-pity for my own lost childhood, but quickly pushed it away. What was done, was done, I reminded myself firmly. There was no point in dwelling on it.

The sun was nearly blinding, so I reached into the backpack I'd retrieved from the house before coming to the park, and grabbed my sunglasses. "Hey guys," I said walking up behind Hannah. She jumped and squealed slightly. "Sorry," I said with a laugh. "Didn't mean to scare you."

"I didn't realize I was so jumpy," she said laughing. "How did things go with Alice?"

I didn't feel like talking about it in front of Dustin or Sam, so I shrugged. "Fine," I answered vaguely. She frowned, but Dustin came over before she could respond.

"Hey, Jason. You want to join in this round?" my new friend asked, clapping his hand on my shoulder. I tried to hide my flash of discomfort at the contact and be happy he hadn't chosen my left shoulder that still had pain issues, but from the way he pulled back, I obviously hadn't succeeded.

"Sure," I said, wanting to move on. I didn't want Dustin to start acting uncomfortable around me, like he had to walk on eggshells or something. So for now we'd move past this awkward moment. There were enough people treading lightly around me already, and I knew it was my fault. After what had happened last fall, I’d pushed them away. Even after telling Hannah it was the last thing I wanted, I couldn’t help it. Running was my response to pain. Always had been. But it didn’t always have to be.

We spent the afternoon playing ball and having fun, eventually convincing Hannah to join in. It was the first time in… well; I didn’t know how long, that I allowed myself a day to be normal. Despite that, I was unable to shake the feeling that something was about to go very wrong. Strangely, it was Dustin who picked up on my mood. Hannah and Sam were seemingly oblivious as they shot around while Dustin and I took a break on the sidelines.

I watched Sam and Hannah laughing and playing, but I could feel Dustin's concerned gaze on me. "What?" I asked softly, finally looking at him.

"What's going on, man?" he asked, his brow furrowed in concern. "It's like you're a million miles away all the time, but you seem scared again today. You haven't been scared lately, so what happened?"

After Dustin had discovered my powers, Alice and Hannah had told him what they knew about the case, so I simply said, "Kindred's back."

His eyes widened, and he opened and closed his mouth several times without speaking. He swallowed a couple times and asked, “Who?”

He wasn't asking who Kindred was, but rather who the man had killed. “A friend of my father's. Same M.O. as my father.” He'd been tied to a chair and his throat had been cut just as deeply as dear old dad. “Not that he didn't deserve it, but I'd rather not have some psycho killing people for me.”

Dustin seemed thoughtful for a moment. “You said he was doing this to thank you, right?” I nodded. “Maybe he's done now,” he said hopefully. “I assume this ‘friend’ was the one who knocked you out when your father tried to grab you?”

“Yeah,” I rubbed my hand over my face wearily.

“Then maybe he's done.”

I shrugged. “Hopefully. Or maybe he starts going to the less obvious threats, or Mason's men who avoided the police but knew about me. Who knows?”

I tensed suddenly. Going to the ground in a crouch, I pressed my right hand in the dirt. “Speaking of… we need to get out of here,” I said, standing up and wiping the dirt off on my pants.

“Hannah, Sam, let's go.” Sam came immediately, used to following my orders without question. Hannah came more slowly, grabbing the ball before joining us.

“What's wrong, Jase?” Sam asked as we nearly sprinted to Hannah's car. He was getting taller, and was more easily able to keep up as we ran.

“One of Mason's men, along with some other footsteps I don't recognize. They were heading in our direction.”

“From where?” Dustin asked looking around quickly, trying to spot the threat.

“A few blocks east,” I answered, gesturing in the general direction while still running to the car.

Once we'd reached the car and climbed in, Dustin asked, "Are you sure they were coming to us? How would they even know where we are?"

I shrugged. "I don't know for sure, but it seemed like a bad risk to take. I killed their boss. They probably don't like me very much."

"All right. So I guess we go back to Hannah's and study," Dustin said mildly.

Sam pouted. "That's boring. I don't wanna study." Pouting and whining was not normally something I would put up with now that Sam was nearly a teenager, but today I just couldn’t bring myself to reprimand him.

"You don't have to, bud," I said glancing back at him from my spot in the front seat. "You can watch TV or a movie, or play on the computer." He shrugged and watched out the window as we got closer to Hannah and Alice's house.

The tension I'd felt when I noticed the footsteps refused to lessen as we reached home. So as soon as I got out of the car, I dropped to a knee and sent streams of my consciousness into the ground, searching for any signs of a threat. There were multiple echoes around the house, none of them familiar. None of them had entered the house either. "I think we're clear," I said, standing up and brushing the dirt off my hands and onto my jeans.

My three companions trusted me to know when the house was clear, so they piled out of the car and headed in.

"Jason, there's an envelope here for you," Hannah said after opening the screen door.

"Another one? In the same day?" I said incredulously, taking the envelope from her. We went into the living room and sat down, Hannah and I on the couch, and Dustin and Sam in the chairs.

"Sammy, go play on the computer, please," I said.

"But…"

"Go. Now. If it's something important I'll tell you later," I promised. It was a lie. The only thing I would tell my brother about this new note was if it said that he was in danger.

"Fine," he said shortly, probably sensing my lie. I waited until he was out of the room, and then opened the plain white envelope. I stared down at the single sheet of paper, unable to believe what I was reading.

"What? Jason, what does it say?" Hannah asked. I handed it to her silently, and she read it out loud. "'We need your help. Mason's assassin has turned on us and is hunting us down. We worked with Mason, but had nothing to do with what he did to you. Please help us'." Hannah stopped reading and looked at me in shock, which quickly turned to anger. "Why ask you? Why not just go to the police?"

I shrugged. "In a way they kind of are," I said. "They'd have to know that I'm still working with the police and will tell them about this note. The thing I'm not sure of is what they think I can, or will, do to protect them."

"They're desperate," Dustin pitched in. "They know you have no reason to help them, but they have no real way to fight Kindred. From what you've said, the man's a ghost. They know you took out Mason, who apparently controlled Kindred, so they think you might be able to beat Kindred too." I stared at him for a moment, not knowing where he'd come up with that. He shrugged in response. "I'm pretty sure it's how I'd think, if I were them."

"Besides, just because they worked for Mason doesn’t mean they deserve a death sentence. They’re coming to you probably because they know about your abilities," Dustin continued. I snorted. Yeah, them and every other dirt bag in the city thanks to Mason. Dustin had found out about them shortly after the incident with Mason. He hadn't known that he was supposed to announce himself before coming down to the basement, and the sudden footsteps in my sanctuary had startled me. My lack of control showed once again as I nearly tore through the basement floor in an attempt to protect myself.

It was a good thing Alice and Hannah's house was very solidly built. That hadn't been the first or last time I'd lost control. I still haven't reached the last time. At least I don't think so. That I hadn't lost control when I'd felt the footsteps of people who worked closely with Mason was a good sign. I'd felt my control slipping when the note had arrived…

"JASON!" Hannah yelled, dragging me out of my thoughts. I blinked and jerked backwards when I noticed her face only inches from mine. "You back?" she asked; her voice back to normal. "You were a million miles away again." Her tone was light, but her concern was obvious.

"I'm sorry. I was just thinking."

Dustin spoke up. "Your 'just thinking' looks a bit like you going catatonic. You're slipping more, Jase. You need to talk to someone."

Talking. How could talking solve my problems? Yet my friends kept urging me to do so. I looked up at Hannah and saw the worry all over her face. Regardless of my original response, I was beginning to think they may be right.