Children of the Earth (13 page)

“All we know is what people in town tell us.” Detective Fraczek steepled his fingers, and she noticed a mottle of black hairs like spider legs growing from his knuckles. “Some folks think you had a hand in baby Jeremiah’s death. Others don’t. Some think you killed your stepfather back in Detroit and that man up at the drifter’s camp. Others don’t. As for me—well, I’d bet a good chunk of change you’re behind these other disappearances, too.” He tapped the photos of the sheriff and Charlie. “We won’t know until we find the bodies. Unless, of course, you want to save everyone a lot of time and trouble and just tell us where they are.”

“I don’t know.” She twisted her fingers until they were white in her lap. “All I can say is that I’m innocent.”

“We’ll let the jury decide that.” Detective Fraczek stood abruptly and gathered the photos, collating them neatly on the edge of the table before slamming the manila folder shut. “I think we have what we need for now. Detective Madsen will take you next door so the judge can set bail, but let me give you a piece of advice first.”

He crouched so his eyes met Daphne’s and his stale coffee breath was hot against her cheek. “You’re gonna want to get yourself a damn good lawyer to beat these charges. Because this case is
no
t
looking good.”

She felt the snap of handcuffs bite into her wrists as she watched him turn and saunter slowly out of the room.

17

OWEN C
OULDN’T SEE WHERE TH
E
bonfire ended and the smoking red sky began.

“Come with us!” A woman danced close to him, her flimsy white dress falling over her curves like water. “Dance with us!” She held out a sinewy hand, fingers beckoning him forward, into the circle. Laughter spilled from her mouth, and her green cat-eyes glittered wickedly.

Behind her, others flailed to the ecstatic beat of an unseen drum. Their shouts mingled with showers of sparks, tiny blasts of light against the night’s infinite darkness.

He could feel their joy in his veins, the hot rush of blood finally stirred to life. He was meant to be with them, doing the dance of life and death around the fire, becoming part of that circle of chosen ones born of the very core of the earth. His heart beat with the drum, with their footsteps, with their gleeful cries. They were the Children of the Earth, and he was one of them.

“Dance with us!” the woman in white spun in a circle, her hair a rainbow cutting the night. When she faced him again it was with Luna’s gaze, Luna’s heat and life and emerald eyes. “Come, Earth Brother, be one of us.”

He shook his head miserably, not trusting himself to speak for fear he would do as she asked, finally acquiescing to the longing that burned night and day in his soul.

“Come.” The silver in her voice turned to lead.

He closed his eyes, unable to look at her, knowing the power in her gaze. If he went with her, took her hand and let her lead him to the fire, followed the flow of his blood, then he would lose Daphne. And if he lost Daphne, he would lose his moral compass, the core of goodness that kept him from falling headfirst into darkness.

A searing pain shot through his hand, and his eyes flew open. Luna stood above him, hair a nest of vipers writhing around her head, murderous rage in her eyes. Blood dripped from the dagger she brandished, and he looked down to find the pinky of his left hand severed, the joint bleeding out onto the dirt beside him.

“This is what it’s like to deny your family!” she shrieked, bringing the blade down onto his ring finger, a slice through his flesh so swift and sharp he barely had time to register the loss. “It’s like losing a part of yourself.”

He let out a howl, twisted and ugly like the burned-out trunk of a gnarled tree dying in the flames.

“Please stop,” he panted, dark spots dancing in his vision as blood gushed from his hand.

Her eyes flashed in the firelight as she brought the blade down again, severing his middle finger from its bed of tissue and bone. Owen let out a scream. “You are one of us, Owen. You are a Child of the Earth.”

His face was a wet, hot mess of tears or sweat—he didn’t know which. All he knew was the torture and the longing, the need to surrender to Luna and his brothers and sisters.

“You see what you’re doing, Owen.” Luna’s voice was faint, and he sensed that soon he would pass out from loss of blood. When he looked up she was a shadow, a ghost flickering in and out of his vision. “Look at what you’ve lost.”

She put her hand on his head and forced his eyes to the ground, to where his three lost fingers jumped and wriggled in the dirt.

“Stop it!” Owen kicked at the sheets tethering his feet to the bed, thrashing his way up from the panting, sweat-soaked nightmare. Pinpricks of heat spiked the three fingers on his left hand. He must have rolled onto them in his sleep, trapping them under his hip and cutting off their circulation.

He slapped his fingers against his thigh to wake them, waiting for his heartbeat to slow. The sky outside looked like steel wool, and it was cold in his room, so cold that his breath left his mouth in frosty puffs.

It was late afternoon, far later than he’d meant to sleep, but in a way that was a relief. It meant he didn’t have to wait around, killing time until his trip to the Vein. Patience had never been his strong suit, and he was eager to have a mission for the day, eager to get answers.

He typed a quick text to Daphne as he waited for his truck to warm up, then rubbed his hands together near the thin stream of heat drifting from the air vents. He’d need to take it to be winterized, he thought—he hadn’t realized how early winters came in Wyoming. And then he remembered, with a pang, that he didn’t have a job anymore, and his savings would be gone by the end of the month. Winterizing would just have to wait.

Snowflakes started to fall as he drove up to the Vein, drifting from the sky in a lazy ballet. By the time he pulled in, they were starting to blanket the ground. He cut his engine and checked his phone again, but there was no return message from Daphne. Maybe she was busy on the rig, he reasoned. He knew how cranky Dale got when they looked at their phones on the job.

Still shivering from the cold, Owen steeled himself to enter. If Luna knew he was there for information—worse, information for Daphne—there was no telling what she’d do. But even more difficult than fooling Luna, he’d have to fool himself. It would be a battle against his own hidden desire to return to his family and succumb to the voice that bubbled from his subconscious and spilled out in his dreams. Being around them could be dangerous, seductive. He’d have to watch his back.

Before he could even knock, the door swung open.

“Owen!” Luna’s dancing cat-eyes peered out at him. “It worked! You came.”

Before he could ask what “worked,” her arms were around him, submerging him in her familiar scent of patchouli and earth, a scent he hadn’t realized until that very moment he’d even noticed, let alone missed. His arms went automatically around her slender back, her skin warm and alive under the snowflakes melting against her.

Behind her, a little boy stared at them with curious, chocolate-colored eyes. He was seated cross-legged near the bar, playing with a wooden duck whose feet thwapped against the dark, waxed floor and staring up at Luna like she was something out of a storybook. He looked familiar, Owen thought, but he couldn’t recall where he’d seen the boy before.

“Come in. It’s cold out. And meet Charlie, our nephew. Charlie, say hello to Owen.”

“Hello to Owen.” Charlie grinned fleetingly and went back to playing with the duck.

“He’s shy,” Luna explained, fixing the boy with a maternal smile. “But he’ll like you once he gets to know you. Everyone will.”

She still had a hold of Owen’s hand, and she gave his fingers an extra squeeze as she ruffled the boy’s hair. In the club’s bleak daytime lighting he saw a damp glimmer in the corners of Luna’s eyes, a touch of moisture on her lashes.

He struggled to reconcile this new Luna, the one who doted on children and got misty-eyed about seeing Owen, with the girl from his dreams. Since leaving her he’d come to think of his sister as cold and calculating, charismatic but disturbed. He’d forgotten that she had a warm side, too.

“Did you miss me?” Luna blinked up at him, her lashes still dewy with tears.

“Maybe a little.”

“Is that why you’re here?” She slid behind the bar, flicking a rag over its already-spotless surface, her eyes never leaving his.

“Not exactly.” He took the rag from her hand and polished the bar until it gleamed like a mirror, reflecting their twin green eyes. “Actually, I’m looking for work. Got any?”

“For you?” Luna grinned. “Of course, Earth Brother. We’re looking for an assistant manager. Your shift starts in an hour.”

She named a salary that made Owen’s head spin: It was close to what he’d made at the rig, for a fraction of the work.

“Say you’ll take it!” Luna clapped her hands, and little Charlie clapped along with her, not understanding the negotiation but happy that she was happy. Owen nodded slowly.

“Excellent!” Luna held out a hand, and Charlie ran to her, clutching the swirling white bottom of her skirt. “Now come upstairs and meet your brothers and sisters. Are you hungry? Of course you are.” She flitted through the maze of tables, leading him to a hidden staircase in the back of the bar. His curiosity mounted as they climbed the stairs, Charlie sticking close behind. He was close to meeting the Earth Brothers and Sisters he’d been forced to stay away from, close to unlocking the crucial information about who he was and where he’d come from, what his powers meant and whether others had them as well. Then he’d report it all back to Daphne, and together they’d figure out what to do next.

The loft over the Vein was a riot of color and noise, a hive of warmth and activity with snow falling fat and steady outside its windows. The thick aroma of fresh curry almost brought Owen to his knees. He realized he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper meal; life on the rig was a blur of canteen snacks and boxed mac ’n’ cheese.

“Freya, get Owen a bowl of stew.” Luna winked at a heavy-hipped girl with a long rope-colored braid trailing down her back.

Moments later, his hands closed around a heavy clay bowl, and thick steam drifted into his nostrils. Luna handed him a spoon and guided him to a purple velvet cushion on the floor where, surrounded by his brothers and sisters, Owen dug in and began to eat.

The snow kept falling, inching up the walls of the Vein, blocking the door with heavy, slumbering drifts. It blanketed Owen’s truck and the wide, empty parking lot around it, falling with a steady determination that whispered to Owen to stay where he was and wait out the storm.

Time grew sluggish in the gray light of dusk, meandering through the tapestry of falling flakes, each fat as a gumball and feathered like a tiny bird. Owen no longer knew how long he’d been there in the welcoming nest of the loft above the Vein, snuggled into a mattress covered in a plush purple blanket as he downed bowl after bowl of Freya’s stew and listened to the throaty melodies of Abilene’s singing.

The Children of the Earth settled in around him, a kaleidoscope of shifting bodies and wide-open faces, an emerald sea of eyes just like his. They took turns sitting next to him, sometimes brushing a thigh against his or resting a head on his shoulder. Each of them had a story that began with dreams like his, a story that pulled them through the confusion of turning eighteen and the jumble of spaces between their home and Carbon County, a story that ended here and now, at the Vein with Luna and each other and, finally, him.

“We’re so glad you’re here,” they said, taking his hand, looking him in the eyes. “You’re our Earth Brother. You’re one of us.”

On
e of us
. The words jogged a memory, something about why he’d come. His third helping of stew sat comfortably in his belly, but there was still a nagging question in the back of his mind. “What does that mean?” he asked finally. “What does it mean, to be one of the Children of the Earth?”

“It means you’re special.” Luna curled against him, taking his arm with one hand and circling Charlie with the other, pulling both of them close. “Powerful. Chosen. We belong to the God of the Earth, and he’s given us powers.”

“Powers?” He knew this part was important, maybe the most important of all, but he couldn’t remember why.

“Yes, powers.” Luna brushed his hair back from his eyes. “Special powers that other people don’t have. It’s because we’re attuned to our earth and our gods, because we can feel the vibrations of other worlds and other universes.”

“Rocks come when I call them,” Heather said, drawing denim-clad knees into her chest.

“I control colors,” Aura added.

“And I make
real
comfort food.” Freya fingered the rope of her braid. “Food that makes you so comfortable, you won’t be able to move or think for hours.”

Owen looked from her to the empty bowl by his feet. He felt flattened by contentment, comfortable in the peace of finally being among his family.

These people were like him, and when they were together the thoughts and abilities that made them freaks in the outside world were a badge of honor, something to be celebrated. Here, it was okay to share his secret.

“I can change objects with my mind,” he confessed quietly.

Little Charlie was sitting between him and Luna, so Owen couldn’t see her eyes flash to life at his words. All he heard was her voice, velvet in his ear.

“That’s a beautiful power, Owen,” she purred. “You are truly special. Thank you for sharing.”

Luna stroked his head, which felt impossibly heavy, like it was full of cement. He let his eyes drift shut. So this was what it felt like to not be alone anymore. These people were just like him: They had the same eyes, the same dreams, the same powers, the same restlessness. Restlessness that had never given way until they reached this place that Luna had created just for them. Until they came home.

Someone lit incense as the steel gray sky darkened to black outside, and Owen let himself drift atop the mattress, part of the tapestry of color and life inside the loft. The snow continued to fall in the still, dead world outside. Finally, he didn’t feel like his blood was screaming to escape his veins, like the only way out of the prison of his mind was relentless speed and the deafening buzz of high-octane engines. Finally, he could relax.

It was good to know that he didn’t have to fight his powers, that they didn’t make him bad. It was even better to know that the Children of the Earth weren’t evil or twisted, weren’t out to destroy the world. All they wanted was to be together and be themselves. All they wanted was peace.

“I’m just going to take a nap,” he murmured to nobody in particular, his voice already choked with slumber. “Just a little one.”

“Just a little one,” Luna echoed as he drifted off, surrounded by his new and ancient family, into a sleep that was finally, blessedly devoid of dreams.