Broken Souls (11 page)
Authors: Jade M. Phillips
Days flew by and fall approached fast. The leaves on the
trees changed color, the crisp air blowing a slight chill. I watched Cloe’s
spirits rise, as well as those of the humans in the shelter. After my shifts, I
found ways to meet my friend at the laundry well and we talked about everything
under the moon, from her life as a human to the current affairs of Tombstone.
Cloe finally divulged to me that since I’d taken over blood slave duty she was being
kept busy taking care of a prisoner down at the jail.
Due to the goat’s blood Pandora somehow produced, my
strength grew and my own spirits rose. But no matter how much better things
became, no matter how hard I tried to forget him, Guy was ever-present in my
mind. I would wake in the morning with him in my heart as if I were lying next
to him as I slept. He was always in my dreams. His soothing voice would echo
through my mind. But despite my heartache, I was kept busy with blood slave
duty and keeping my temporary home with the werewolves fully stocked with food.
One night when I was tidying the cellar in which I slept, my
curiosity got the better of me. I eyed the boxes sitting in the corner of the
room, daring a peek inside. They held nothing of value except for some old
curtains, wall paint and chipped picture frames. Another box held some old
rusted tools. It gave me an idea.
Jax, my host, had never fully warmed up to me, nor had been
given the chance for being so busy. Being head of security and with the assumed
threat that FUSE was nearby, he was constantly wrapped up in meetings and work.
I swear the man never slept and his demeanor just kept getting more and more
sour as time went on. It was a major downer.
So when Pandora gave me the night off to evaluate The
Shelter, I took the opportunity to fix up the old house. By doing so I might
bring a little happiness to the werewolf leader and his younger brother.
Besides, it was my house too and I wasn’t fond of staring at peeling wallpaper
and dusty rooms.
I got to work scraping and painting walls, fixing loose
hinges on doors and cleaning up the dirty floors. I took some items down to the
laundry well and returned with clean curtains and bed linens. I hung framed
photographs of mountains and forests hoping it would cheer up the place. I
opened the windows to let the fall breeze filter through the house. And just
when Jax and Orie would be arriving home, tired from a long night’s work, I
decided to make some pancakes. It was one of the only things I knew how to cook
from my human life.
Orie’s expression was joyous as he trotted through the door,
a grumpy Jax trailing behind him.
“Wow,” he exclaimed, noticing the changes I’d made. “It
looks like a real home now.”
“You like it?” I rubbed my flour-covered hands over an apron
I’d found in one of the boxes.
“I love it! It reminds me of the house I grew up in. And— what
is that smell?”
“Pancakes,” I smiled.
I set the platter of pancakes and syrup in the middle of the
dining room table which I had cleared of clutter. I stood back to admire my
work. Jax grunted as he looked over the spread, the candle light showing his
lined forehead.
“It’s your favorite, Jax.” Orie beamed. “Remember how mom
used to make pancakes every Sunday?”
“I don’t have time for pancakes,” Jax rumbled, taking off
his weapons and tossing them on the coffee table.
Orie shrugged. “Whatever. More for me.”
He excitedly threw down his jacket and sat at the table. I
fetched some cups of hot tea I also made. Jax watched Orie slap some cakes onto
his plate and cover them with syrup. I sensed a trace of envy coming from the
older wolf.
“Fine,” Jax huffed. “Maybe just a couple.”
Orie and I exchanged glances and I stifled a giggle. Within
minutes we all were sitting at the table, dining and chatting, Jax telling us
about his night.
“We’ve been preparing for the lock-down that will be
happening in just a few days,” he said.
“What’s in these pancakes?” Orie interjected, glancing up at
me. He spoke with a full mouth. “Mmm. Tastes like… is it nutmeg?”
“Vanilla.”
“Huh,” Orie mused, continuing to devour the food. I looked
to Jax who inhaled his food equally as fast.
“What’s a lock-down?” I asked, taking a sip from my cup.
Orie opened his mouth but Jax spoke first. “It’s a drill so
the townspeople can be prepared for when a real emergency hits.”
I smiled, happy that Jax was now on speaking terms with me.
I knew the large werewolf wasn’t too happy about me staying with him —much less
giving me the chance to live. But I could tell his irritation with me was only
now slight at best. Might’ve had something to do with pancakes, but one could
never be sure.
He shoveled in a large syrupy bite and went on to explain
about the lock down. When the first alarm sounds in town everyone must
extinguish any lights or fires and retreat to the nearest home or inn. They
would lock the doors and hunker down until a second alarm rings, clearing
everyone to safely come out.
“It’s a great idea,” I replied, wrapping my fingers around
my cup.
“Jax is a great leader,” Orie beamed, obviously proud of his
older brother. “There’d never been any means of evacuation or security plans
before my brother took over. He’s the one who orchestrated the lock-downs and
the scouting missions.”
I nodded with a wide grin. For the first time in what seemed
forever I felt welcomed, the scene reminiscent of one I would have with my
family, eating dinner and talking. The homesick ache I’d had for so long subsided,
if only a little. My cheeks hurt from grinning so much and I thought the night was
ending on a rather high note before Orie spoke up again.
“So has the prisoner given any more information?”
“No,” Jax answered, guzzling down his tea, shooting me a wary
glance. “And we don’t need to be discussing matters of security when off duty.”
A sudden tension filled the room, and my curiosity got the better of me.
“Who’s the prisoner? Is that the one Cloe says she’s been
attending to?”
Orie wiped his face with a cloth napkin and slid me a
glance. “You didn’t know? That’s why our security has been heightened. We have
a very influential leader of FUSE being held within the jail.” I nearly choked
on my own tongue, fear stabbing through me. Orie continued eating as though he
hadn’t just cut into my heart with his words.
Could it possibly be the one person that meant most to me?
Could Guy Stone have been here in Tombstone this whole time without me knowing?
Thousands of soldiers made up the FUSE army and it could be anyone, but I still
couldn’t help my stomach sinking at the possibility.
“Orie,” Jax scolded, warning him against discussing this in
front of me. I ignored Jax’s warning and pried Orie for more information.
“When you say he’s a very influential leader, what do you
mean? Is he some sort of General… or… or a Captain maybe?”
“I’m not exactly sure…” Orie mused.
I kept my expression impassive, not wanting to seem too
curious. But I couldn’t stop myself from asking more questions.
“Do you know his name? When did he arrive?”
Orie opened his mouth to speak but Jax abruptly cut him off
and slammed a clenched fist down on the table.
“That’s enough.” His angry gaze flickered to me and back to
Orie. “This subject is classified and will not be discussed any longer.” Orie looked
down at his empty plate like a child being scorned. I kneaded my fingers
together beneath the table, knowing I needed to be careful with my words and my
curiosity. I couldn’t let on to my connection to the FUSE army.
“It’s time for bed,” Jax grumbled and took his plate to the
sink. Without another word he left Orie and I sitting at the kitchen table. I
wanted more than anything to pry Orie for more information now that Jax was
gone, but I thought better of it. I needed to be cautious. At least, for now.
Yet my pulse still quickened at the terrifying possibility
of Guy being locked up in that horrible cell, having to deal with Horus none
the less. But I shook my head, thinking I was jumping to conclusions. I didn’t
know for sure it was Guy. It could’ve been any high-ranking soldier, and from
what I’d witnessed the few times I ran into FUSE soldiers, they were
everywhere. There were so many of them that it could be anyone, purely
coincidental.
“Are you feeling okay?” Orie asked me with concern. “You
look ill.”
I looked down to see how hard I was clenching my hands
beneath the tablecloth. I relaxed my grip and took a deep breath, forcing a
smile on my lips.
“I’m fine. It’s just been a long night.”
Orie stood from the table and offered me a sympathetic grin.
“Don’t worry about my brother. He gets a little tense under pressure. Most
people think he’s scary, but inside he’s just a big teddy bear. The longer you
stay with us, you’ll see.”
Despite the worry which permanently placed itself within me,
I smiled at Orie’s vote of confidence.
“I’m off to bed,” Orie yawned. “I have to be up early this
evening. There’s a pre-lock-down meeting for the guards.” I nodded, unable to
speak. My throat had gone dry.
Orie dropped his plate into the sink. “Thanks for breakfast.
It was the best I’ve had in a long time.”
My smile faded as he left the kitchen, a feeling of unease
growing inside of me. The house sat silent and my two roommates locked
themselves in their rooms. But I… I just sat there.
I couldn’t bring myself to get up and go to bed. After
finding out a FUSE soldier was being held at the jail only a block away from
our house, my mind was in a tailspin. My conscience argued with me, saying I
should just do the honest thing and go to bed. But my heart said otherwise.
Before I knew what I was doing, I snuck out the front door
and into the grey pre-dawn morning, hoping I could find some clue to the
mysterious soldier before the sun rose over the mountains.
Hatred for Horus boiled the cold blood in my veins, and I
couldn’t help but reflect on how much I despised him. But there was nothing I
could do. He was my maker after all, the one who turned me, therefore bonding
us for all eternity. The thought was always herculean and more than I could
handle, so I did what I always did and opted to look at the smaller picture
instead, taking one day at a time. That was easier to grasp. What made it
easier as well was Ruby showing me how to control my thoughts, a much-needed
tool to have when in close confines with such an impulsive vampire.
But even with a glimpse of hope, old habits still die hard,
and I lay in the open double coffin Horus and I shared, finding myself sinking
back into the depths of my mind. I stared at the ceiling and remembered how I
came to be this way. The traumatic incident had marked my soul so heavily, I
found myself reliving the scene on a daily basis, like watching a terrible
movie I could not shut off. I would never escape my past.
I remembered back to the night twenty years ago when I was
captured and brought to Tombstone, a night I would never forget…
It was December and unusually cold in the city of Benson,
Arizona. I was seventeen years old living in a trailer park with my drug addict
mother and her boyfriend. I always made myself busy by working as a busser at
the local bar or hanging out at friend’s houses so as not to have to go home
and deal with the disaster which was my mom. But despite how hard I tried to
ignore the situation, I’d always been insecure and unhappy with my life. I felt
I had no worth. I was ashamed of my family and my home and of the clothes I
wore. I was ashamed of what my mother let her boyfriend do to me. I felt
unloved.
Though meek and timid, I was an unruly teenager and
self-destructive at that. I partied and drank and went with any guy that would
have me, trying to fill the hole in my heart. But it was never enough to make
me forget who I really was, the product of a broken home.
Christmas Eve arrived quickly and my mother insisted I spend
time with her and Paul. She wanted us to act like a family, if only for one
night. I reluctantly abided her wishes and made my way into the trailer. Paul
sat in his recliner watching ‘The Price is Right’ reruns on the old box TV. He
held a bottle of scotch in one hand and a joint in the other. He wore stained
sweats and a crooked Santa Claus hat that sat on top of his bulbous head.
“Well look what the cat dragged in,” he said eyeing me up
and down. He passed the joint to my mom who fell over when reaching for it. I
looked at her with disgust. She was an older version of me; small-framed,
delicate facial features and long brown hair. But she was washed up and ragged,
a pathetic version of a woman. The two laughed drunkenly, and I rolled my eyes,
knowing they were severely messed up. I wished I hadn’t come home.
“Come in honey!” Mom slurred, crawling back to the sofa.
“Let’s open our presents!”
I gazed around the trashed shoebox and saw nothing in the
way of presents. Nor a Christmas tree or decorations. The only thing spirited
was the stupid red hat on Paul’s disgusting head. But I said nothing as usual
and sat in the empty spot on the sofa next to my mother.
“You got the presents, didn’t you Paul?” Mom asked,
wavering.
Paul coughed after taking a big pull from his bottle. “There
wasn’t enough money.” He turned his attention to me. “How much did you make at
the bar tonight?”
Panic gripped my chest, knowing Paul and Mom were in a bad
way when they asked me for money. I only worked part time after school and
hardly made enough to pay for my school supplies and clothes.
“Answer me girl!” Paul snapped. “How much you bringin’ home
in tips?”
I fought the urge to reach into my pockets and pull out my
tip money. I always gave them my money when they asked, afraid of the
repercussions if I didn’t. But this time I’d spent the money on a new pair of shoes,
a Christmas present for myself because I knew that was all I’d be getting.
“I… I don’t have any,” I whispered. I’d always had a meek
personality —until I had a few drinks in me and was around my friends. But I
never liked conflict and did my best to step wide around it.
“What did you say?” Paul shot daggers at me with his bloodshot
eyes.
My palms grew clammy and my mouth dry. I learned to never
talk back to Paul or I would be punished. And if I ran away to avoid it, my
mother would get it instead of me. I was weak, just like her. I hated her and I
hated myself.
“I said… I don’t have any money,” I answered.
Paul tilted his head toward me and leaned back in his chair.
“Then how d’ya spose we’re to get ourselves a Christmas dinner? There’s no
goddamn food in this house!”
I looked to my mother, but she averted my questioning gaze.
Coward. I hated her.
“I’m sorry,” I said out of fear. “I can go back to the bar
and see if there’s any left over—”
“Screw leftovers!” he growled. “I want a ham or some steak.
You’re old enough now you should be bringing home some dinner or at least money
to buy dinner. You’re worthless, Cloe. A worthless piece of nothin’.” Paul’s
anger flared, and when that happened it was bad news. I needed to get myself as
far from the situation as possible. I stood and edged myself around toward the
door.
“Where the hell do you think you’re going?” he spewed, liquor
dribbling from his chin. I hesitated but did not answer.
I flinched when he looked down at my feet. I wore my new
tennis shoes, bright white with blue streaks down the sides. I fidgeted with my
sweater, hoping he wouldn’t notice.
“Is that where the money went?” he growled, gesturing to my
shoes. “Do you think you’re so much better than us you deserve a brand new pair
of shoes? How much did those cost?” I cracked the door slowly as to make my
escape easier.
“I… I forgot. I’m supposed to meet a friend.”
“Don’t you dare leave this house!” he commanded. “Take off those
shoes. Let me see those.”
I didn’t make a move, but stayed stone still, poised at the
cracked door, waiting for the perfect moment to flee. But if I left, I wouldn’t
be welcomed back for days or even weeks for that matter. I had to be sure of my
decision.
“Cloe,” my mom called out. “Come back in here and we can
talk.”
Talking was the last thing Paul would be doing with me. Hitting
was more accurate. Paul stood and set down his bottle on a wobbly TV tray. He
made to move forward and I blanched, opening the door a little more.
He spoke, his voice murderously low. “Give me some money,
Cloe. Or give me the goddamn shoes off your feet.”
I took a deep breath, my pulse increasing.
“No.” I said boldly, then braced myself.
Paul’s face changed. It became red, infuriated. This was the
first time I talked back to him since I was younger and realized I couldn’t
afford to.
“Cloe… don’t make this into something it’s not,” my mom
tried to reason.
“Screw you, Mom,” I scoffed, immediately realizing my error.
Paul’s eyes flashed and in a heartbeat he rushed at me. I flung open the door,
but before I reached the steps, his hands landed on me. I wiggled and flailed
trying to rip from his grasp, and when I finally did, he tripped and fell to
the floor, his fat fingers around my ankle. I clutched the door frame for dear
life as he pulled at my leg. He was strong and I couldn’t break away. He slowly
got to his knees and I panicked. Balancing on the foot he held, I lifted the
other and smashed him in the face with my brand new shoe. I felt a crack
beneath the rubber soul and saw blood trickle from his nose.
He let go and I ran. I dared not look back until I heard a
blood-curdling scream. But it wasn’t Paul. It was my mom. I spun to see a man
in black pulling Paul from the trailer, his face buried into the asshole’s
neck.
What the hell?
The man in black lowered a limp, bloody Paul to the ground
and rose a few moments later. I knew I should run and get as far away as
possible, but my body froze with fear. The man wiped his mouth on the back of
his sleeve his eyes landing on me. He slammed the trailer door to muffle my mother’s
horrified screaming and turned to me.
“Are you okay?” he asked, slowly sauntering over.
I scanned the darkness to see if anyone was nearby. The
stranger, me, and an unconscious Paul were all alone in the trailer park
courtyard. Screaming wasn’t a novelty where I lived and no one dared to venture
out of their homes to see what happened. I nodded, unable to speak, my throat
clogged with fear.
“Don’t worry my dear,” the stranger said. “That man will
never hurt you again.” I tensed, his voice sounding like smooth glass.
I opened my mouth to speak, but no sound came out.
Was Paul really dead? Had I just witnessed a murder?
My heart hammered against the insides of my ribs and my body
shook with tremors. My legs were stuck in place as I watched the stranger walk
closer. He stopped directly in front of me. His dark black hair was slicked
back and I’d never seen eyes so dark before, black even. His mouth turned up
with a kind and sympathetic smile.
“I’ve seen you around,” he said, pulling a cigarette from a
hidden pocket within his jacket. He lit it and handed it to me. I hesitated,
but aside from my better judgment, grabbed the small stick, putting it to my
lips. He pulled out another and after holding a match to it, puffed a few
times.
“And I know men like those.” He gestured to Paul’s body.
“They are good for only one thing: dinner.”
My heart skipped a beat when I saw the man’s fangs. Fangs
with blood on them. I stumbled backwards.
The stranger held out a hand. “You have nothing to fear from
me. I’m here to help you. I’m here to offer you the chance of a lifetime.”
Oh my god. What was happening? Was I being propositioned by
a vampire? A real live vampire? If I hadn’t witnessed it with my own eyes, I’d
have thought the idea was crazy. Vampires didn’t exist.
“Listen. I know girl’s like you. You work hard, trying to do
the right thing, but find yourself in an impossible situation. I am offering
you a way out.”
I looked down at the cigarette in my hand and pondered his
words. Could this man be speaking the truth? Was there a way out? I always just
assumed I would grow old living in the same trailer park and probably end up
like mother. But it wasn’t what I wanted. I wanted more. Deep down I had dreams
and aspirations.
The stranger took a drag and blew out a mist of smoke. “I
can offer you a life of worth, where hard work is rewarded and money is endless.
I can offer you a chance at a new life. A chance at endless possibilities.” He
leaned in close, his eyes drawing me in. I didn’t know it then, but the
treacherous words that next came from his mouth would be burnt into my brain
for all eternity.
“I can offer you the chance to live… forever.”
I took his hand, daftly unaware that all I was doing was
trading in one evil for another. Only this time, it was for eternity…
