Chymaera's Overture: a Shadowed Ways novel Page 7

  “About two years after my brother left, we received word he’d fought gloriously in some fateful battle and won riches and a bride. I didn’t want my best friend to return and become my master, so I ran away.”

  “Had I left it like that-I wouldn’t be sitting here with you now. Two months later I ran into a ragtag group of brigands. I bartered my knowledge and my few possessions and they spared my life. I took up with them out of loneliness more than anything else. And despite it being against all my mother had taught me, the ex-slave in me lusted at the thought of taking what I wanted, rather than begging or pleading. Through my knowledge of how wealthy homes functioned, the group did well. I became the right hand of the leader. We became more than just scabby robbers hiding in thickets.”

  “During this time I remained bitter. My initial resentment grew putrid. It didn’t take much to convince my band of thieves to join me on a trip home. I returned to show my father I wasn’t just a slave. I went home to claim my inheritance, to take what was mine.”

  “They all died, and I killed them, Chy. Not with my own hands, no - not that that makes any difference. But my not so merry band carried death with us. Everyone I had ever loved, or who had ever loved me died because of my return. I died not long after, but whatever had remained of my soul-that died the day my family did.”

  The silence was abrupt and hollow.

  His words had the ring of truth, but still, I was disbelieving even as the words came from his own mouth. The Manolo I’d always known wasn’t capable of harboring such hatefulness. I remember scooting forward and reaching for his shoulder.

  His rebuff was gruff, pained. “No Chy, let me get this all out. The next phase of my existence was a limbo. It seemed like sometimes I was conscious and other times I was not, but when I was conscious, something kept me reliving my life. Not always from my perspective mind you. So I got to see my life from the vantage point of damn near anyone who ever interacted with me. So if I hadn’t known what a narcissistic bastard I’d become, reliving that loop sure clarified things for me. That stage continued until it broke me. I started off belligerent and defiant and over time I hated myself. Then while I couldn’t forgive all I’d done, I became resigned to what I had been. It crushed me and I despaired of ever being able to do anything to redeem myself. I thought I was in hell and that my punishment was to relive my own missteps for eternity.”

  “Then one day I wasn’t in limbo. I was in my body again, but in a landscape I found alien. An angel approached me, and no, I can’t tell you what an angel looks like because angels appear in multitudes of ways. This angel, I call him Theo because his real name is an inhuman sound, well he showed up with a flaming sword. He asked me if I had yet begun to conceive of all the wrong I had done. I told him yes. He looked at me like he disagreed. But anyway, he told me he had a job for me. I would serve as an instrument of vengeance, of celestial vengeance.”

  “A daimon changeling takes the place of a human. Typically a newborn, but not always. The changeling body is like a magical clone. They base it on the genetics of the person we emulate. It has the knowledge, skills, or abilities that person had. We also have certain daimon… abilities to enable us to enact vengeance. We don’t possess human bodies. The humans we replicate are dead.”

  I was almost at the point of information overload, but I didn’t understand where it was all going yet. I was thirsty for what he wasn’t saying. Thinking of the possibilities made me apprehensive, but I needed him to put it all on the table, “So, can you tell me why you’re here?”

  He sat up at this and turned slightly to lock eyes with me. I took in how he moved, the crook of his smile and the sadness in his eyes; I couldn’t believe I had ever missed the sense of world weariness I saw then. He slouched down and kept looking at me. “I know I don’t need to say this, but this has to be just between you and me.”

  I waved him on. “Yeah yeah, get on with it.”

  “You might regret wanting to know this next part. Well, you know Izola isn’t close to Manolo? Well, she is his step-mother, but Rafi–he is Manolo’s father. Manolo’s mother was never Rafael’s wife, or girlfriend, or mistress. She was a very poor prostitute living in a favela in Rio. The housing I’d like to build. It is to replace the slums where this child was conceived. Despite his wealth, Rafi prefers prostitutes from such poor neighborhoods because he is twisted and violent. He leaves bodies. Sometimes he isn’t thorough, and he leaves a woman severely injured. Manolo’s mother, she survived and while she was recovering from his attentions, she discovered she was pregnant. Having had a few miscarriages, she feared she would lose this child too, and she didn’t want to. So she asked around and found a particular bruja.”

  “She wanted a protection spell for the child, she couldn’t take one more loss. By what I can only imagine was providence, she avoided the various snake oil salesman who ripped off tourists. She found herself a real witch.”

  “The bruja took one look at Leticia and knew neither mother nor child would survive the pregnancy. Theo told me that the bruja originally planned to give her something to ease her transition. So she let Leticia tell her story while she prepared a concoction to aid in her final rest. Now when she told the crone about how Rafael had treated her, so matter of fact, like it was her lot in life. Yet, she still wanted the baby to live more than anything, the old witch got curious. Asked questions. She realized Rafael was a predator that had ravaged her area for many years and she knew she had to do more than what she’d planned.”

  “So she made a request for vengeance. For intercession. It is a benign-looking ceremony if you don’t know what it means. There’s no animal blood, but there are incantations spoken in a language few know, and a few forgotten symbols. So they sent a lesser angel to hear the request, that angel discovered peculiarities, and he pushed it up the ladder to Theo. Theo assigned me this job.”

  “Typically, a request for vengeance just turns around on the requester. Most of the time I make people eat their words and realize how useless seeking vengeance is. Often they end up losing their souls and become daimons. However, occasionally a case comes up involving someone so dangerous to humankind that the powers that be step in. I’m not here for Rafi boy so much, I’m here for the entire Guerran clan. Rafael is just the fruit of a poisoned tree.”

  “Leticia died believing she’d just given birth to a healthy son. However, her son had died with her. The changeling body I inhabit took his place in the hospital nursery. There were just enough bread crumbs to lead Rafi to that hospital, and the angels made sure he needed that child. See, he suffered a bizarre sporting accident while Leticia was pregnant and became infertile. Through a quirk in the Guerran family’s labyrinthine inheritance rules, the males in line to head the corporate interests must have an heir before they can take the reins. Rafi and Izola hadn’t started their family yet, and he’d been careful to leave bodies in his wake, not children. He had to track down every woman he’d ever used to find an heir, and he found me as they meant him to. He’s raised me in the US while he spends most of his time in Brazil because his wife can’t stand me. Also, because his family has a history using murder to change the order of succession.”

  “No matter, I am nearly of age and he is slowly bringing me into the family operations. Once we have a clear view of the organization, I will destroy it. Many will have their vengeance.”

  Now, that whole spiel sounded like a pulp crime novel. I’m sure I gaped at him in astonishment. I was incredulous. “Damn, that is so freaking medieval. But, if you don’t mind my asking, why this family? I mean, even if they are heinous, are they really worse than what other people are doing all over the world?”

  Manolo rubbed his palms together and stared at them like the answer would emerge from them. “There isn’t much more that I can say. Angels only get involved when something impedes humans choosing their own path. These people have amassed so much power they can destabilize entire countries, force entire populations into various forms of soul-des
troying bondage. The evil they’ve done, are poised to do… We’re talking puppet masters of doom.”

  That ended my pity party right there. Discussing immeasurable destruction put my personal troubles in perspective. Still questions popped in my head like popcorn. “Okay, but with all this on your plate–why deal with me, or any of us at all?”

  Manolo pondered me in that way he had. He took me all in, like I was something to be consumed. “Well, I need friends, while I can have them. You give me peace Chy. We have both had to pretend to be something other than the wholeness of our beings, but I don’t have to be so stringent with you. It isn’t because you are a Thumbra either, you have a gift for accepting others. I have given you safe harbor over the years, but you’ve done the same for me, even if you didn’t know it.”

  His acknowledgment of me, of my place in his life made me feel warm, pleased, but… “and Alyssa?”

  I have to give credit where credit is due; he didn’t blush or stammer. That would have seemed false since I knew he wasn’t a kid any longer. “Honestly, Chy–sometimes I feel like the proverbial dirty, old man, because of the lives I’ve lived. Not in a lewd sense, just I’ve seen and done some dark shit kind of way. One of my abilities as a daimon is I can see aspects of what drives a person. It helps me do my job. So, I can see when someone is driven by a quest for power or selfish desires. Alyssa, she isn’t innocent. That girl has darkness in her, she chooses the light, but she struggles. I get that. She gets me. We aren’t talking a picket fence and babies kind of future here. But she is interesting and I don’t have to worry about corrupting her.”

  Something prickled my skin, and I shivered. “Because she is already corrupt? What the fuck?” I stared at Manolo, I wanted him to take it back or justify what he meant. He returned my stare.

  “Not that simple. Some humans have a harder time staying on the right side of things. I can tell she is one of those, but I don’t know why. She will have choices to make, maybe I can help her. She would have helped me, or tried to if she’d known me way back when.”

  I wasn’t sure if I could agree with his assessment of Alyssa, but what did I know? If someone had asked me before if my best friend would have been up for poaching on my guy, I would have said no. She’d never given off any kind of envious or lusty feelings towards him when we were all together. Maybe Manolo’s muting presence was even stronger than I had thought.

  “So, fine–I step aside and you and Lyssa can walk dark paths together or whatever. But, what about us? You are right, I don’t need to be your chick, but you are my friend, I don’t want to lose you.”

  “Come on Chy, it isn’t like I will rush into anything with her. And having anything other than friendship with her is a big if. I don’t think she is immature enough to think she’d ever be able to begrudge us time together.”

  Silly, silly daimon. I wanted to take him at his word; however, in my experience, human females were a possessive group and since Alyssa had already overstepped my boundaries, she might fear her own boundaries getting crapped on.

  “Hey Chy, I need to know you won’t hurt her.”

  He sounded sheepish and I could kind of feel for him. Instead of answering, I took the towel off my head and shook out my long dry curls. By thought alone, I shaped them into a soft cascade around me and let them fall past my shoulders. I sighed and folded up the towel. I chose my words carefully as I wasn’t OK with any of this, yet. “You know I’m not a monster. I will not lay a hand on her. Honestly, I was just so upset before I even got here and I went all territorial before I even recognized her. It caught me off guard and I went into a tailspin. It won’t happen again, still- I need time to figure out how to be around her. Do you think she saw me change?”

  “I don’t think so, but Chy – I don’t think Alyssa thinks either of us is what we appear to be. She wasn’t so afraid you’d hurt her. I bet she’s afraid that you’ll cut ties with her though.”

  Believe me, it took a lot for me to not roll my eyes at him “Manolo, tell her whatever you need to. Just give me a few days, tell her I will reach out to her when I’m ready…”

  “Good… so since we are putting it all out there…, what the hell happened tonight–I mean, before you got here?”

  “Yeah, I’m not done with my questions yet. So this was, is punishment… for how long?”

  “I have no idea. I keep getting assignments, I keep doing them.”

  “Angels? Daimons? Assignments? An afterlife bureaucracy?”

  “Yes, like a ridiculous amount of bureaucracy. It is almost like an old spy movie. I have a handler and he is the only one I get to talk to. They recruited me for the good of humanity, blah blah blah. There is no retirement package I’ve heard about. You keep working for as long as they need your skills and you don’t screw up too badly.”

  “But, how can that be fair? I mean are you serving a sentence for all of eternity without the possibility of parole?”

  “Chymaera, who can say what isn’t fair? I’m not trying to get all meta-on you, but I’ve learned far more about life after my death. There is an interconnectedness that goes beyond what I understand even now. What you put into the world is either a net positive or negative and it can snowball into either something greater or worse than you ever intended. The result still shows up on your tab. Who can say what I owe?”

  It was a stark thing he said. I wish I had listened to the words when he was saying them but I didn’t. All I heard was the underlying anguish of this being I was just beginning to know, and I wanted to make it go away. I touched his face so he would look at me, really look at me and I said nothing. There was nothing to say, I wanted him to know I was seeing him, maybe for the first time, and it was okay. I put my arms around him and we sat there like that for a long, long time.

  Eventually, we got interrupted by some piece of essential electronic gadgetry notifying Manolo of some show he wanted to see. We turned it on and pretended to be normal and human for an hour. Then Manolo got up and went off to take a shower and get ready for bed.

  “Tell me, just once. What is your true name?” I whispered the question in the room’s stillness. He stopped, but didn’t turn to face me, “Caen.”

  I sat alone in that room instinctively aware of just how long it would take for Manolo to return. After a few minutes, I got up intending to just go to bed but wandered around the room instead. Despite his assurances we would remain friends, a sharp sense of loss pulled at me. Something had changed. We had changed, irrevocably. I wasn’t in love with Manolo, but our relationship was complex and unique. My things, souvenirs of times we spent together, were on display all over the place and I wasn’t ready to leave it as it was.

  So, I’m still not sure why I did it. I can guess there was an aspect of spite, but there was also a real need to hold on to something. Anyway, I made a choice. Took off my leggings and the hoodie and made my way to the bedroom wearing turquoise boy short panties and a matching cami top. I turned off all the lights because neither of us would need them.

  I’ll spare you all the gory details, but I seduced Manolo that night. Our last intimate touch didn’t seem much different from our first. I took the lead as I always did. I coaxed him into the touch I needed, wanted. When I told him it was time to drop our masks, he did, which just made him more vulnerable to mine. He wasn’t some fumbling teenager unsure of what he was doing. No, he was a very isolated being who wanted someone who understood him, saw HIM. And I, I am an illusionist, let’s leave it at that. The only thing you need to know is that the last time I pulled Manolo into me-I went into him as well and took a bit of his life force into me. I knew I would lose a good chunk of what we’d had, and I needed a small piece of him for me.

  He didn’t resist. I didn’t ask. I can’t say he knew for certain what I was doing, but I won’t apologize for it. Not to you. It is obvious now that is what I was meant to do.

  9 - Carry on prodigal son

  Kai

  He’d been pacing for hours. Despite his
attempts to manage the situation, Kai was unsettled and anxious. Having someone else’s emotional meltdown shoved down your throat could do that to you. Following the group discussion with Yesmin, Kai had returned to his room and meditated. His intent, to clear his head and get his mind right for whatever was coming. He hadn’t expected his nighttime caller to return soon, but she had. More than once.

  Now, well he wasn’t sure if she was sane. The range of emotions that had barreled through him up into the wee hours of the morning was wide and disturbing. First had been the overwhelming grief, normal given the loss of a child. What had followed a few hours later was white hot rage. It hit him like a kettle bell to the gut. Kai couldn’t remember having ever felt that level of anger in his life, it was jarring. Especially because it was instantaneous and short lived. The grief had hit him in waves as if it was a thing that had likely been building and released under pressure. She’d been trying to hold it back. But the anger, that was an instant blaze. A freakish, murderous inferno. Once it had burned out, Kai had shook, but he’d resolved to just suck it up, just deal with it on his own.

  So he’d embarked on another round of contemplation, finishing just in time for more rushes of emotion. These surges lacked the intensity of previous events; however, they made up for it in duration. It seemed like the heir apparent wavered between fear and anticipation; all punctuated with a background of sadness. Kai felt sympathy for what was a difficult time, but he also wanted peace. He didn’t get it. After midnight, he’d been increasingly suffused with a longing followed by a warm sense of pleasure. It had stayed with him for a while and then faded into unease, of all things.

  The lack of context was the most disquieting aspect of the experience.

  He couldn’t resolve this new reality and let it go without something to go on, so he remained jumpy throughout the early morning. Strangely, he found he both dreaded the assault and anticipated it. By 3 am he’d given up on sleep. Some time thereafter, he got dressed in black joggers and a Deadpool t-shirt and paced the width of his room. By 6:03, he decided it was time to talk to Yesmin.