

The Dark Inside

Donna Galanti

February 2013

All Rights Reserved.

Copyright © 2013 by Donna Galanti

Cover illustration © Calista Taylor

www.coversbycali.com

Donna Galanti

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. All characters portrayed in the book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, or events is coincidental and not intended by the author.

Published by Donna Galanti

Thanks to Kathryn Craft with Writing-Partner for her assistance with developing these stories.

www.writing-partner.com

Thanks to author Pavarti Tyler with Fighting Monkey Press for her story idea of The First Time.

www.fightingmonkeypress.com

For more about Donna and her books,

visit her websites and sign up for her blogs at:

www.donnagalanti.com

www.elementtrilogy.com

Don't miss an exclusive excerpt from her debut novel,

A Human Element,

at the end of these stories.

Table of Contents

Introduction

The Dark Inside

The Well

The First Time

The Job

Frat Night

The Tree of Sheltered Secrets

The Beginning

A Lucky Strike

Excerpt

About the Author

Buy A Human Element

# Introduction

This short story collection features characters and settings from my paranormal suspense novels in the Element Trilogy, _A Human Element_ and _A Hidden Element_.

What inspired it? The simple fact I wanted to be with my characters again. Once you write The End on a book something terribly sad happens. The people you fell in love with along the way, you suffered with, you rejoiced with–they become real. Every day for months you leave the flesh and blood folks in your life to go be with the people inside you. You listen to their songs. You dream about them. You ache to be with them.

When I neared the end of writing _A Human Element_ I actually slowed down my writing. I knew our relationship was almost over. I didn't want my people to leave me! But their story had to come to an end. This is why I revived some of them in a sequel. Those that didn't make it into the sequel are featured here in behind-the-scene tales that expand on their life, their desires, and their fears. And new characters come to life here that are introduced in _A Hidden Element._ And what about the other stories here of random folks? Who knows, they may come alive in another tale. Whether they do or not, their stories are still about...The Dark Inside.

# The Dark Inside

Heartbreak, danger, lust, and betrayal blaze to life in this collection of stories that reveal the dark places hidden within us. When what you most desire is on the line how far will you go to get it, and what will you give up?

A young man desperate to leave a world that doesn't accept him–and a father who hates him. A tormented man imprisoned as a science experiment experiences love for the first time. A secret agent gives in to his carnal desires and risks exposing the one secret he wants to keep. A college freshman betrayed by her lover takes matters into her own hands. A young girl is determined not to suffer at the hands of her molester anymore. A sadistic leader who thrives on mind control leads his people into a new life. A teen seeks escape from his abusive foster father and faces a life-or-death situation to survive. They must either fight the dark inside or embrace it. Which will they choose?

# The Well

Before They Left

Caleb

Caleb's chest felt like it would crack right open. He sprinted down the field, a wild man chasing his prey. Victory was just a throw away. He dodged the shirtless enemy that grabbed at him. Serah flashed him a brilliant smile filled with promise as he ran past her. Her lovely face shot an ache to his groin. It wasn't possible for his heart to pump faster, but it did.

He threw the ball. It sailed toward the makeshift net, and then Ferrell grabbed it. Caleb crashed into him. They landed in the cold mud. Pain mixed with his humiliation. He pushed himself up off Ferrell. Cheers filled the air. The Hides had won. He looked for Serah but she had vanished in the retreating crowd. The field returned to nature. It seemed to breathe a sigh of relief after lending itself to crazed teenagers secretly celebrating their youth. The winning team headed off to the after-game party where there'd be plenty of drink and clutching in dark corners, wet lips pressed together. Except Caleb wouldn't be pressing anything up against Serah tonight.

His Shift teammates muttered empty consolation as he headed for the wooded path. Hot with failure and anger, he ripped off his shirt and shoved it in his bag. The mist mixed with beads of his sweat, trickling cool now down his chest. Last bullyball game of the season. Last chance for them to beat their rivals–and he blew it. He wiped mud from his face and looked back at the field. Ferrell's friends stood around him in a circle. He wasn't getting up. Caleb hesitated. They had been best friends when they were young kids, but things were different now. Since Ferrell's parents split up he'd been acting like a tough guy. Playing pranks on people, breaking rules. They faded away from friendship and now, at seventeen, were pitted against each other in sports, but Caleb hadn't meant to hurt him. It was the typical bully-ball game today. He walked back to his old friend.

Ferrell lay on the ground, his face a white grimace.

"Hey, you okay?" Caleb wedged his way in between the other players, who scowled at him.

"Do I look okay?"

Caleb knelt down and felt his leg. A vision of Ferrell's dad beating him flashed into Caleb's head. Sometime it was a curse to read memories from touch. His talent for it was more intense than most of his people, and his talent to heal...and his talent to do what no one else could do–bring back the dead. The day he discovered it he had come upon a dead deer. He had touched its rough fur, saw its painful final moments, and wished it alive. When it hopped up and limped away he was stunned, and terrified of this power. He didn't want it. Or for anyone to know about it.

Ferrell shoved his hand away. "What are you doing?"

"I hurt you. At least let me heal you."

"Forget it." Ferrell groaned and his teammates helped him up.

"It was an accident. I'm sorry."

"Yeah, right. Hurting me is no win for you. You're still a loser."

"I didn't mean to hurt you, Ferrell."

"If I needed to I could heal myself. I'm not a wuss like you who heals himself the minute he gets a little banged up."

"Fine, tough guy."

"Better than being a weak girl like you."

Caleb swung at him. Ferrell dodged his fist, stumbled, and Caleb pounded into him. Each connected punch drove a vision into Caleb's brain of Ferrell's dad striking him. Ferrell never even hit his dad back. He just let himself be beaten. A wave of pity for his old friend swelled in him. He let his punches die, and it was then Ferrell's teammates clobbered Caleb from all sides. He fell on his knees, hugging his torso. Blood dripped from a cut to his eye.

"Back off, weakling," a final kick dismissed him before the group tried to help their wounded teammate off the field. Ferrell shook off their hands and limped away, then shouted back to Caleb. "Guess who'll be giving it to Serah tonight? She'll get it from a wounded hero–not a waste of space."

Laughter cut into him, swift and deep. Caleb watched them go, the pain in his stomach mixed with the pain in his heart. He let the blood drip into his eye, reveling in the sting. Ferrell wanted to be hot stuff and get in Serah's pants with his sports injuries? Caleb could do the same. But he didn't want to use her body like the other athletes. They traded the girls lined up to please them and took them any way they wanted. It was their right they said. Caleb didn't think so. He wanted to love only one–Serah–and make her love him back. He wanted it to be special, not like the grunting animal sex he'd hear late in the night. His mother was always silent, as if an unwilling accomplice to his father's rhythmic thumping and feral groans. It drove Caleb to stuff his head under a pillow and try to forget about his own aching sexual desires.

He pushed those ugly thoughts away and thought of the nice bruises he'd be sure to have tomorrow. He'd see Serah at school then. Maybe get a second chance. He hoped she'd see him hurt and take pity. He grew hard thinking about taking Serah, soft and naked beneath him but forced his hardness away, angry at his urges. He didn't desire her for just that. He hoped Ferrell didn't get far with her tonight.

The mist turned to rain. He shivered now, his sweat cooled. He walked slowly down the wooded path toward home. Murkiness enveloped him under the gray sky that held a dying sun. Ever since their world grew darker Caleb felt the blackness seeping into people's souls. They were angry and full of despair. It permeated everything, and now hung thick and suffocating around him.

He moved off the path toward his hideaway and looked around. Alone. As usual. He pulled branches away then climbed down into the dried-up well he had found years ago. It was flush with the ground and easy to disguise. Shadowy depth welcomed him. It's where he went to think, and daydream, and write. He kept it covered because it was the only thing that was all his. Here he could escape the overwhelming sensory world around him and his own violent sexual desires. He would never be like his father.

The only thing that marred his secret world was the images that flashed in his mind when he touched the rock walls. They held memories of a boy who had stood in this well, back when it had been filled with water. It covered the boy to his waist. His face still haunted Caleb: looking up to the sky with terror, hoping for freedom. In the moonlight the boy's face, framed in short white hair glowed against the dark of the well. In some visions the boy cried softly. In some he pulled at the chain bound to his wrist shouting "Father!" over and over. His voice was flat and echoless. Oddly, Caleb always heard these words in his own voice.

Caleb would then pull his fingers away from the cold stone wanting to shut out the visions. It was his well now. He didn't want to think of the sad boy imprisoned here long ago. Who was he? And what kind of father would do such a terrible thing to his son? He couldn't believe that even his own austere father would do that.

He sat at the bottom, his eyes adjusting to the dark, trying to forget about the boy. He wanted to think of Serah. He pulled his shirt back on, took out his pen and paper, and wrote so hard he broke through the page more than once. He could barely see the paper in the dim light, but it didn't matter. When the rain stopped his tears wet his words. His rage faded. His poem for Serah may never be read by her, but he could hope. He leaned back on his bag, hands behind his head, and watched the mist blow over his cave. He was cocooned deep in the earth, comforted by rock and silence.

The sky boiled with black clouds, and he knew he had to get home or his mother would worry. He covered the well again and trudged back down the path. He felt better already. The candlelit window ahead called to him. His mom said she loved the yellow glow over real lights, as it reminded her of the glorious sun that once made their world golden. It was her way of dealing with the power outages. To him, the candle was a pitiful attempt to light a graying world through the mist. But it called him home to the only place he belonged–with his mother, if not his father.

Caleb wanted to make their world better for her. He dreamed of finding an energy solution that would save them. He'd study energy cell development after graduating from general school. One more year and then he'd show them. His science teacher said he had advanced ideas. Caleb was tired of the water, food, and energy rationings. The solar cells produced the bare minimum now with the diminished light. He was sick of desperate times. But for now he had to deal with bullies and school and his father.

He slammed the door upon entering, hoping his father wasn't home yet. Rich smells of meat and gravy met him. A big pot hung over the kitchen fireplace. His mother was becoming an expert at making gourmet meals by fire. She peeked up from her cookbook and grabbed him for a hug. He accommodated her, trying not to wince as his ribs were squeezed, and turned away so she wouldn't see his cuts.

She forced his face around and gasped. "What happened?"

He threw his bag on the table. "No big deal. We lost the game against the Hides."

"And you got hurt in the game?" She gently touched his face and he stiffened.

"Not exactly."

"A fight."

"Yeah." He told her what happened.

Her mouth formed in a tight line. "What's wrong with those boys? Why won't they heal themselves? That's why we have such abilities. It gives us an advantage in this–"

"Dying world."

"Yes." She placed both hands on his cheeks. "And you didn't heal yourself either. Why?"

He tried to pull away, but she held him firmly. "You wouldn't understand, mother."

She raised her eyebrows at him, waiting.

"I wanted to go to school tomorrow like this."

"So they'd think you're a tough guy too?"

He nodded. She frowned at him, and despite that and the fact her curly, black hair was bound up in a tight bun his mother's natural beauty still glowed before him. His father never seemed to notice, but she turned heads when she went out.

"All right." She released his face, hers now sad. He wanted her to smile.

"What did you write today, Caleb?" She knew why he was late.

"A poem."

She smiled and sat down, pulling on his bag. "For a girl?"

He yanked the bag away with a groan. "No, Mother."

"Come on, let me see."

She managed to wiggle his notebook out and a tug-of-war ensued until the door opened.

"What's this?" His father stood there, his massive shape filling the doorframe, fierce eyes fixed on their antics. Caleb slid his notebook away.

His mother tensed and patted Caleb's shoulder. "Just being silly." She got up to fill a bowl of stew and placed it before his father, who sat down and stared into the fire.

"Any word, Adrian?" His mother sat down and placed her hand on his father's arm. Caleb's skin tightened being near him and he quickly grabbed his bag to head to his room.

"Yes." He tapped the table with his thick fingers. "Caleb–stay."

Caleb sighed and sat down, watching his father pound the stew into his steam shovel mouth. The enormous muscles in his neck flexed with each swallow. He finished his meal in a few gulps and pushed the bowl away.

"Brahm has been named as mission commander to the new world. With Manta. They have been chosen to procreate and carry on our race."

"Adrian, I'm so sorry. I know you wanted this. Why not choose you?"

"They believe I'm a risk, having worked the factory nightshift."

"But you don't have pitch disease."

"It can lay dormant and develop years after working with the energy cells and passed on genetically. You know this. They didn't want to take the chance of me going insane over time on their precious mission. My brother, Mr. Scientist, and his wife are the perfect candidates." He spat out the words like a bug from his stew. "As if my seed isn't good enough." The firelight flashed over his father's white hair. It blazed like the fire that Caleb knew raged in his father, and he wondered why he was needed here. His mother sighed–Caleb knew, with relief. She hadn't wanted to go.

"Adrian, it's meant to be. You can do more help here running the energy plant and we can all remain where we belong, as a family."

"We don't belong here anymore. Our resources are nearly gone. We need to leave and find a new place to rebuild our people."

"And what if you crashed and died–"

"Like my twin's mission?"

"Yes," she said quietly.

"Wouldn't happen with me at the helm." His father snorted.

"But what if the new world doesn't want us?"

"We can hide among their people, if need be."

"Start a new life falsely?"

"If it means our survival, yes."

His mother withdrew her hand from his arm. "Enough of that. It has been decided. We will survive here and make the best of it. If the mission is successful there will be others. We should wish Brahm and Manta well on their journey, even though we shall miss our family."

His father banged his fist on the table as the fire popped.

"Sorry father," Caleb said dutifully and stood to leave.

"You are to help your Uncle Brahm ready for his mission. He has requested it. Tomorrow you are to go to his home laboratory after school."

Caleb's heart beat fast. "Is he taking volunteers on the mission?"

His father's thick eyebrows furrowed into a deep frown. "They need dozens more. Think you're worthy, boy?"

"No, Caleb," his mother whispered. Her eyes were huge and shiny, pleading with him.

"I didn't say I was going, Mother. But I'll help him get ready."

"You do that." His father smiled at him. "The two of you will work well together. The weak leading the weak."

Caleb backed up to the door, eager for the comfort of his room.

"Adrian," his mother admonished.

"It's what Brahm is. A weakling. He'll never survive the mission. Just like our other brother. A waste of a ship we've readied for so long. A waste of all the energy we've directed into operating that ship instead of our daily lives." He looked directly at Caleb. "Just like writing poems is a waste of time. There is more important work to be done here. The strong must lead us into a new energy age before our world dies out. Who's going to do that? _You_ , Theresa? _You_ , Caleb? Your face bears new marks–you are not ready to win such a battle."

He shoved his chair back and paced along the fire. Caleb hated him more than ever. His father hadn't even cried at his own father's death ceremony, but Uncle Brahm did. His uncle had heart, and was more a father to him than his own. How he wanted to go with him to Earth–but he knew his mother would never allow it. How jealous his father would be. The thought filled him with a sweet gladness.

"I'm leaving early in the morning for my sister's," Caleb's mother said, breaking the thick silence between them. "She's sick again."

"Then you must go," his father said, turning from the fire to look at her.

"I'll be gone a few days at the most. There's food in the cellar."

"Mother, I can go with you too."

"Good idea, take Caleb. He's good at women's work."

Caleb gritted his teeth and ignored his father. Despair at being alone with his father sunk in quick. He looked at his mother, but she shook her head.

"You need to be in school. Don't you have an exam this week?"

"Yes, but–"

"You must stay," she said gently. "I will take the main transport–"

"But that's two miles away through the wooded path in the dark hours."

"I have no choice. It's the only transport running at that time."

"Father, can't you take her?"

"The power cells are dead on my vehicle and I'm working the midnight shift again. There are blackouts everywhere and it's only getting worse. They say an ice age is coming. If we don't find a solution we're all dead soon enough." He frowned at Caleb as if it were his fault their world was coming to an end. "I'm off to rest."

His father left the room and his mother served Caleb a bowl of stew.

She pushed him down in a chair and pointed at his bowl. "Eat. It seems you have a busy day tomorrow now with school and helping Uncle Brahm."

Caleb nodded, playing with his stew. His rumbling stomach called to eat but his heart didn't want to answer. His mother stroked his hair and bent to kiss his cheek. Her warmth and love moved into him. "I won't be gone long. Listen to your father and please, try not to fight."

He nodded again.

"I'll miss you, darling."

"Me too." His words came out a whisper.

And he gulped down his stew. He needed it to be strong for Earth, even if only in his dreams.

* * *

Caleb stared at Serah while she got books out of her locker. It was a rare moment that no one from the popular crowd was with her. She swung her glossy hair over her shoulder as she stuffed books into her backpack. He imagined moving silently up behind her and sifting his hands through her silky waterfall, drowning in her scent. If he was going to approach her, he had to do it now before he lost all nerve.

"Serah?"

She turned with a smile then it faded. "Nice bruises." She turned back to her locker.

"I was keeping them for a science experiment." He tried not to stammer, but his tongue stuck to the bottom of his mouth.

She slammed her locker shut and faced him again. "Really? You're not like the other morons who like to beat each other up to look cool?"

"No way." He looked down into her eyes. They were so green, like the soft grass he imagined once grew here from a brilliant sun. He saw her lying down in all that lushness as he kissed her over and over. "I-I may be going on the new world mission with my aunt and uncle. I didn't heal myself because I wanted to see how long my body would be affected by an injury."

She frowned at him and pursed her full lips he wanted so badly to kiss. "Why?"

"To see what it feels like to be different, like a new race I will meet soon and–"

"Maybe."

"Right." He shrugged and looked down. When he looked up again, she was smiling.

"I thought you were like those other athletes. Maybe I was wrong."

"Maybe."

She laughed, dazzling him with those white teeth. "Right."

He took a deep breath. "Would you like to get together, sometime?"

The bell for class rang. She slung her bag over her shoulder and tilted her head up at him. "If you get on that mission, Caleb, I'll go out with you."

She flashed him one last smile and ran off to class before he could even close his mouth that was hanging open. _Idiot!_ But she had said yes. His heart soared.

His only way of winning Serah was to get on that mission. It occurred to him that accomplishing this meant he would never see her again. That would be all right with him.

One kiss and one night with her would sustain him for a lifetime on another world.

* * *

Caleb knocked on Uncle Brahm's house after school. His uncle greeted him with a wide smile on his round face and pulled him into a big hug. His uncle's hair was white like his father's, but all over the place–like his scientific inventions.

"My boy! Manta and I are off. Starting a new path for our world to follow."

"I'm happy for you. Everything will work out on the mission, right?" Caleb was sorry the moment he asked.

His uncle's smile faded. "My brother's crash was over twenty-five years ago. He was just a young man, just out of youth-hood. Like I was once." He paused and shook his head as if reliving that time. "But we have new technology now."

"I know."

"I often wonder if your father's twin had survived that crash, would your father be different."

"Not likely. He was born the way he is."

His uncle shook his head and looked down. "No, he was much softer in his youth. We were brothers and friends then..."

"I didn't mean to make you sad."

His uncle looked up, his smile came back. "You could never make me sad, son."

Caleb was desperate to move on from talk of his father. "So, taking any volunteers?"

"Aha, I don't think your mother would take to that very well."

"Or my father."

"Yes, nor him."

"Will you think about it though?"

"I'm sorry, Caleb. The team overseeing the launch has decided to draw a lottery to take more travelers. A mix of male and female."

Dizziness engulfed Caleb as he fantasized about two of them being him and Serah. "If I got my name in the lottery I'd still have a chance."

"Our family cannot participate in the lottery, as Manta and I are already going. I'm truly sorry."

Caleb's cheeks burned. How could he impress Serah now and escape this world? It was hopeless. He swallowed his frustration and anger. It wasn't his uncle's fault. "Why isn't Aunt Manta helping you get ready?"

"She's at the main laboratory. We have weeks of preparation ahead. She left me in charge of readying our equipment here for the ship. She knows it's my area. Hers is directing."

"And mine is helping. Can I take a tour of the ship?"

"We'll see."

"I don't want you to go, Uncle Brahm."

"You'll be the first one I send a message to when we arrive and I'll watch over you from afar."

Caleb nodded. _Unlike my dad, up close._

"Come, Caleb. No time for sadness. For now, we must work! And you must read me some new poetry while we do."

Caleb pulled his notepad out, eager to share his words with another poet. If he couldn't share it with Serah, he could share it here.

And the following day his uncle's presence helped soothe the hurt of her rejection. When Serah asked if he had gotten accepted to the mission he had to tell her the truth. He hoped she would feel sorry for him and date him anyways, but when he told her he wasn't going she questioned if he ever had the chance to go. He tried to tell her it wasn't a lie (it wasn't, right? He had wanted to go). But she didn't believe it, said he just wanted a piece of her like all the other boys. He grabbed her hand eager to convince her otherwise–glimpsed her pure soul within and desired her even more–but she shoved him off and walked away. He watched her go, taking his love and self-respect with her. She remained unattainable.

All he had to look forward to now each day was readying his uncle's mission and sharing his poetry, the comforting bond that drew them close. They continued this way all week, as Caleb spent hours after school with his uncle amongst machinery and manuals. When his uncle needed to free his mind to figure out a mechanical problem, he would tend to his roses in his greenhouse while Caleb's poems floated in the air. They were special roses his uncle had bred to grow in low light, pale, and sweet smelling. They seemed of another world, not this one Caleb was forced to suffer on. He didn't want to go home. Each day he stayed longer and longer, living in his uncle's world. A world he wanted. He daydreamed about his mother and Uncle Brahm being together. What a perfect family they would be. All kindred souls.

Every night he returned home a faint rose scent permeated the house. It must have clung to him from his uncle's rose bushes. It drifted around him like a sweet song that these walls had never known. Each day he hoped to see his mother bustling about in the kitchen. Instead, the house was dark and the fire out. His father already in bed resting between his double shifts–for that he was glad. He ate cold dinners at the table, wishing away the energy rationing so his mother could call on the receiver to talk.

The fourth day he knocked on Uncle Brahm's door but was met with a note that his uncle needed to travel to another town for ship supplies and wouldn't be able to work with him today. Disappointment fell on Caleb. He wanted to go. Why hadn't his uncle waited for him? He slowly walked home then it occurred to him that his mother might have returned. He ran the rest of the way and barged in the door. The kitchen was empty as usual.

He dropped his bag on the floor and was about to grab a snack when a cry pierced the air. He stopped, unsure if he imagined it or not. Then it called again.

And a moan. A _thwack_ followed with a shriek. It came from above. Goosebumps prickled along his arms. His mother? He climbed the steps upstairs two at a time, silent in his footfalls.

Thwack.

More moans. Something stirred in Caleb's groin.

He eased open his parent's bedroom door. Aunt Manta was on her knees, naked. And his father was plunging his giant staff between her legs, slapping her buttocks with a leather whip.

Thwack.

Caleb couldn't move. He felt himself grow hard, despite his horror, as his aunt's breasts swayed from the force of his father slapping up against her. With each lash of the whip, she shrieked and then moaned, pushing deeper back into his father. She was enjoying it.

His father strained with his release, as he clutched his aunt's hips pumping into her.

"Father!" Caleb's voice finally found him.

Aunt Manta and his father turned to look at him, their faces open-mouthed with ecstasy and shock.

"Caleb!" His father withdrew and stood up.

But Caleb turned and ran back down the stairs. He ripped open the door and raced to the woods. Roses. That's why the house smelled like roses. Uncle Brahm made Aunt Manta perfume from his rose garden. Each night he was with his uncle his father had been plundering his brother's wife.

Caleb stopped to clutch his stomach and retched. The woods were silent except for his sickening sounds. When was his mother coming home? He needed her but what would he tell her? And Uncle Brahm? Jealous of Brahm's good fortune, his father had ruined everything. He stumbled on through a cold rain, heading for his hideaway.

He reached the well. A giant hole breached the brush he had last used to cover it. He shoved the branches aside and climbed down into his sanctuary, wary that some animal might be poised to greet him. Halfway down he paused, but sensed no movement. Heard no sound. The comforting dark reached up for him, and he longed to enter its embrace.

His foot reached the floor but didn't touch hard stone. He landed on something soft. He lost his balance and fell back, cracking his head on the side of the well.

He lay crumpled at the bottom, waiting for the pain to recede. As his eyes adjusted to the gloom, a face stared back at him. Not the bright eyes of an animal. Not the hazy, unbidden memory of a chained boy. Eyes he recognized, yet so different now drained of life. His mother's.

Caleb screamed and slammed back into the wall. Her head lolled to one side and her leg, stuck out at a crooked angle, lay on her travel bag. She leaned up against the wall as if someone had propped her there.

Why had she insisted on leaving alone? He should have walked with her. He knew these woods better than she did. She must have wandered off the path in the dark and fallen into the brush. He never should have covered the opening so carelessly. He should have told someone about the danger and had it sealed.

This was his fault. His own, dear mother's loss–all his fault.

Or was it?

Crying, he touched her shoulder. Like frozen wood. "Mother?" It echoed up the dank walls.

She didn't answer. He placed his hands on her stiff body and closed his eyes, willing her back to life with his healing power. _Please come back. You're all I have now. Please!_ Sweat painted the skin above his lips, formed on his brow; still he harnessed his power to bring her back. His love for her rushed through his veins driven by memories, but her memories were long gone and he could not unblock them. She remained silent and still. She had been dead far too long to work his power. Shaking, he undid her bun and gently placed her raven hair around her shoulders. Now she was beautiful again, even in death.

He smashed his fist against the damp rock. It bit into his hands. He didn't know how to deal with this–he was only a teenager, he shouldn't have to. With weak hands and a heavy heart, he started to climb. _Father!_

Had the word flown from his mouth? It couldn't have, the sound had no echo. He looked back down and instead of his mother; he once again saw the vision. The boy in the well–he was the one who'd screamed. _Don't leave me here, Father. Please_! And even though he was looking down into the pit of the well, Caleb saw a gray figure loom over the opening to speak to the boy. _You must suffer for being weak,_ it said _. No son of mine shall be weak._ The figure swirled away.

"Go away. I don't want to see you anymore." Caleb reached the top and clung to the last rung, trembling with grief. He had nowhere to go.

Beneath him he heard the boy crying. Above him, he heard movement in the brush. He looked up–into his own father's face. How could he know his hiding place?

And Caleb knew.

His father was that boy from long ago. And _his_ father had chained him in this well as punishment for being weak. Uncle Brahm had said Caleb's father was soft once. Caleb believed it now, but his grandfather had tortured that softness away. An ache of sadness for his father rose inside him through his overwhelming grief. Perhaps his father had only wanted his own father's love and respect too.

Caleb held tight to the rung and wept, his loss spilling over.

"Caleb, come up." His father held his hand out. "We can work this out."

Caleb shook his head. How could it work out with his mother dead below him and his father an adulterer? Sobs engulfed him as he hung on to the wet rock. The rain fell faster.

"I need you, son."

"You don't need anyone!" Caleb was ashamed of his tears but unable to stop them.

The weakness in his father's voice pierced his dying heart. "But I do."

Caleb was frozen between two worlds of horror as he hung over his mother's corpse, shrouded in darkness, and faced his dominating father who he thought he hated–and who hated him.

"We can start over. Maybe not here. Somewhere else."

"No. No!" Tremors ran through him as his anxiety grew.

"I know what your dreams are, Caleb. We can follow them together."

"You don't know me!"

"We are much alike."

"I'll never be like you." He sobbed harder.

"You'll see in time. Trust me."

"My mother couldn't trust you." It came out a whisper as his strength faded. He could just let go, have the same fate as his mother. He saw them both laying peacefully together in the dark. Then he could escape this dying world that offered him nothing.

"I'm sorry for what you saw. I was wrong...about many things. Now, come."

Caleb's sanctuary had been his father's prison as a child–and now his mother's grave. Her death was an accident, right? It had to be. His father couldn't have done what he dared not think. They were connected now to this well in pain, and to each other. His father confessed to being wrong. People who confessed didn't murder, did they?

He didn't _want_ to need anyone. But everyone needed someone. Even his father.

Serah was gone. His mother was gone. Soon Uncle Brahm would be gone.

And Caleb took the hand offered.

It was all he had now.

# The First Time

_X-10_

It would be his first time.

Not for killing. That was a known pleasure. For the pleasure of a human female. Dr. Bjord had promised him one as a reward for good behavior. X-10 knew it was just another of the doctor's experiments. He only hoped this one wouldn't be as painful.

He stared at himself in the small mirror that leaned on the built-in shelf of his concrete walls. He did not look like the human doctor. X-10's nostrils flared wide below his flattened nose. His cheeks were bulbous. His eyes yellow. Would he terrify this female? He flexed his arms. At eighteen they bulged out like many of the cartoon super heroes he read about. Comics were another treat Dr. Bjord bestowed on him. They also got taken away when he wouldn't submit to testing. But the one thing he wanted most of all he would never get. A name.

Like Charlie. Good guy characters had that name. Charlie Bucket. Charlie Brown. And especially Charlie Gordon in _Flowers for Algernon_. That's who he could pretend to be for the female: Good Guy Charlie. Someday, after he killed the decrepit doctor, he would claim a name. But not today. Today was for a different pleasure.

The bolt clicked open on his cell door. X-10 retreated into a shadowy corner. He took a deep breath and rose to his full height in his naked glory. Harsh light entered the room as the female was pushed in. Her long, blonde hair hung in waves. The door slammed shut. Metal slid into place. There was no escape for her now either.

She looked around the room then saw him in the corner. He stepped forward and she gasped, backing up into the door. She turned and pounded on it.

"Let me out! Please. It's a mistake."

She glanced back, her mouth a pink carving he yearned to touch. She was his game here in this cell for his easy taking.

X-10 stepped closer. A whiff of buttery caramel and vanilla delighted his massive nose. His gray walls held so little scent. He savored the few scratch-and-sniff perfume ads he'd found in used magazines. He breathed them over and over, imagining them caressing a female's skin. And now it did. He inhaled deeply. She faced him and pressed her back up to the door.

"No one is coming," he said. "I won't hurt you."

She shook her head violently as her wide, blue eyes darted up and down his body. She was as young as he. Large breasts pushed up from her white blouse and tan legs were exposed all the way up to her mini-skirt. Dr. Bjord did a good job finding this one on the street. X-10 had killed uglier ones than this from his mind's eye.

"What are you?" she whispered. She looked left and right but kept coming back to his face.

"Just a government experiment."

"You have yellow eyes."

"You have blue ones."

"Contact lenses?"

He shrugged, running his hands down his chest and legs. She shook her leg nervously and crossed her arms. "I want to leave."

"You can't. You're bought and paid for."

"I want my money back. It was only for an hour."

X-10 stepped closer. Deeper he breathed. Something else was in all that buttery sugar. An earthy smell of pine and bark. Her smell. She didn't shrink away this time.

He jerked his head at the camera on the wall. "He's watching us, you know."

"The old man?"

He nodded.

"You sound like a normal guy, except..."

"Normal." He liked saying that word.

"You don't look it."

He grunted.

She sighed, resigned. "Don't you have clothes?"

"They hurt my skin."

"Oh." Her face softened. Her fear was fading it seemed. "What's your name?"

He paused a moment. "Charlie."

She smiled. Her white teeth between full lips dazzled him. "That's a nice name. I'm Sabrina."

"Sabrina." He drank it in like hot chocolate. Rolled it around his mouth, warm and intoxicating.

"Why are you in here? For...hurting someone?"

"No. Scientific testing."

"That sounds awful. Am I being tested too?"

"Just me."

She looked relieved. "He said it's your first time."

X-10 nodded. He grew hard thinking about it.

She looked down and her eyes widened. "You're big."

He stood taller, feeling empowered. Her words poured over him coating him in unbearable yearning. Part of him wanted to push her down and throttle her, then bite into her soft neck and taste her insides. If she knew those thoughts she would start pounding on the door again. But part of him wanted to sink his rigid sex softly inside her and lick her smell. Could he make her want him?

_No one will ever want you_ , the doctor said. _You're too different. A killing machine. Not all human. Unworthy._ Dr. Bjord's words burned in his brain. X-10 would prove him wrong.

Sabrina took a deep breath and walked toward him. "Okay, an hour." She placed her hands on his chest and looked up into his eyes. Her scent made him dizzy. His breaths came faster as her warmth infused him. No one had ever touched him except to plunge needles in his arm or clamp probes onto his skin. He shuddered.

"Are you afraid?" She raised her eyebrows. He shook his head and tried to find his voice to say 'no' but only air floated out. She smiled at him then and leaned her whole body into him. He stood frozen at first then swam his broad hands through her soft locks. He tugged on them. They bounced back. Her lips touched his chest. Tingly explosions ripped through him. When she wrapped her arms around him and stroked his back he tipped his head back and moaned.

Her breath was a hot touch. "Why do they keep you in this awful place? It's so cold and damp."

"I am unworthy."

She looked up and touched the corners of his eyes. "You talk strange. Why unworthy?"

"I was born unworthy."

"I can make you a worthy man." She smiled, with practiced seduction. It was a generic smile she gave others. He thought of men between her legs and it made him sick. She was just a dirty whore.

He pushed her away. "Tramp talk."

She bit her lip. "I didn't want to be a tramp. I only said that because I thought it's what men liked to hear. Sorry, Charlie."

He frowned at her, debating whether to take her or not. But her touches had made him feel worthy. Even if they were paid. And she smelled and looked so good. And she was _here_.

She sat down on his bed. "Why don't we just lie here for now? We can talk, you know. Like real...people."

He stood over her, considering. What would he talk about with a human girl?

She lay down on her side and he did too, facing her. Her blonde hair curved along her breasts like silky strands of sparkly cotton candy. He'd seen a picture of it once being swirled on a stick at a fair. He wondered what it would taste like. What she would taste like.

She touched his face then pulled her fingers away. "When you look at all your parts, you're not so bad."

"A monster."

"No. I've been with monsters."

"Like me?"

She shook her head. "Monsters on the inside."

Even in the garish light she was the loveliest thing he had ever seen. He wanted to touch her, but was afraid of his urges. To hurt and maim and kill. Good guys don't do those things. And she had called him by his name. As if he was a good guy.

This would be his own experiment. Not Dr. Bjord's. But he needed to slake his thirst to kill.

He sent his mind's eye out into the woods as he stared at her. There he found a fox. He tore into him, all the while smiling back at the girl. It felt strange, this smiling that humans did.

The fox yipped. Blood spurted. _Rip. Shred. Chew._

He felt calmer now.

She tilted her head at him. "Where were you just now, Charlie?"

He swallowed the fox's heart, relishing the succulent meat, and focused on her. "Outside."

She nodded as if she understood.

"How old are you, Sa-bri-na?" He savored her name like the blood that trickled down his throat.

"Nineteen."

"I'm eighteen."

"You've been here all your life?"

"Yes."

"It's like a prison."

"It's all I know. Will ever know."

"You know me now."

"For an hour." But Dr. Bjord probably wouldn't let her leave here alive. She knew too much. X-10 wouldn't be made to do it, no matter how Dr. Bjord tortured him. He would be a good guy until the end. His secret experiment would be a success. He didn't want the hour to end. Knowing it could be her end.

She turned and stretched out on her back. Her soft slopes enticed him. "I just left my prison."

"You escaped from jail?"

She laughed. It pierced his cold heart with a flame. "A jail of sorts. My bastard of a father. He was my jail keeper. With fists almost as big as yours." She took his monstrous hand and held it in her small one. Light blew inside him; chased some of the dark away.

"He hit you."

"And more. I finally left. Last month. I've only been in the city since then."

"You left, just like that?"

"In the night. I didn't say goodbye to anyone."

She faced him again. Her eyes grew shiny. What did that emotion feel like? Tears had never fallen from his eyes. Was it painful?

She pulled up her skirt. Gray bruises marked the tops of her legs. "Old evidence. Now I call the shots. If the pimps don't get me. I've been avoiding them."

X-10 touched her old wounds. Her skin was smooth and soft. He worked his power on her. He had only used it to heal himself before. The bruises faded. Sabrina sucked in her breath and let go of his hand.

"What are you really?"

"I told you. An experiment. A monster."

"Monsters don't heal people. Angels do." She touched her legs as if waiting for the bruises to re-appear. "Where were you when I needed you before?" She laughed nervously.

"Here. Alone."

"I've never been alone. I grew up in a house full of kids."

"Alone inside though?"

She nodded and took his hand again, pulling it to her chest. It filled the space between her warm breasts, like her scent filled his pores. "Alone like you."

"Why the streets?" His heart raced faster with her touch. He willed himself to be still when all he wanted to do was plunge into her skin with his hardness and fingers and teeth.

"I ran out of money the first week, Charlie." His name on her lips shattered his ice. It melted it into warm rivers that ran through his limbs. She kissed his hand and held it to her cheek. Her misty blue eyes mesmerized him like sapphires on fire.

And then she reached up and kissed his lips. He couldn't move. She parted his lips with hers and pushed her hot tongue in his mouth. He tasted her sweetness then lapped at it. Her hair shimmered around her like a halo.

"I want you, Charlie. Do you want me?"

He nodded. An ache spread throughout him. It wasn't painful, but full of need and want. _She_ wanted _him._ Even if she was a whore. But she seemed so clean and pure. And she said he wasn't so bad looking. She didn't think he was a monster. Alongside his need, hope sprung that if one day he killed the doctor and escaped, someone could love him.

Golden Sabrina wanted to. If only for an hour.

_But nothing gold can stay._ That poet had written so.

She stood and undressed before him, leaf after leaf. Her slender curves were everywhere and he was so hard. Still, he couldn't move. She was his experiment. He was terrified of ruining it all if he moved. Could he control his darkest desires? He didn't want to make the first move. He wanted her to take him.

And she did.

She sank onto him, drawing him in slow. His muscles tightened as she rose up and down. He spiraled high above where he had always dwelled in darkness. Her nipples were the light pink of sky at dawn, a color he'd only known from a photo. He touched them and they stiffened at his rubbing. He pulled away, but she took his hands and placed them on her breasts.

"Touch them like this, see? I like that, Charlie, do you?"

He could only nod as ecstasy rose in his groin, a building heat. He was covered in her wet depths. He watched his body disappear over and over into her as she took him in. Her moans crashed over him and he held onto her pliant flesh.

"Oh, Charlie, sweet Charlie."

He _was_ sweet Charlie. He reached up and stroked her hair. She arched her back and he ran his fingers along her throat. It pulsed with life and blood. She fell on his chest and they were pressed together like one piece of flesh. Was this the love that humans spoke about in books? It opened up his dark soul and filled in the black holes where emptiness resided.

Her heart beat in sync with his.

Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

She pulled away from him then, a body of fluid lines, naked and lovely in its workings. She glided over him and he followed her rhythm.

And then a great wave swelled within him where water had never been. Her body was the oasis that took away his parched existence. His pleasure mixed with an ancient urge.

"Feel me, Charlie."

And he did. She was all around him and he shot into her the only thing he could give. Light pulsed out from his fingertips and toes and mouth. Brilliance blazed around him. Or was it her radiant hair that filled his vision above with this light he couldn't contain? He grabbed on to her and held her tight, releasing a wild roar as he rocked deep inside her sweet flesh. Her mouth hung open, her eyes wide. Did she feel it too? He closed his eyes and fell back onto the scorched sand as the water receded.

She slumped across his chest. His heart raced. Hers slowed.

"Sabrina?"

She did not move. He lifted her head. Dull eyes stared at him. He pulled himself out from under her and flipped her over.

Dead?

Her neck bore the red marks of his hands. The hands of a monster.

"No. No!"

He touched her as gently as she had touched him. He tried to heal her with his power but there was only stillness. Water filled his eyes, a damning film. It spilled down his cheeks. It _was_ painful. These human tears.

He pulled her limp body to him, folding her small nakedness into his beastly mass. He knelt with her on the floor and cried. He would not give into this temptation again. It was too much pain, this human pleasure. He would stick to killing for release. But oh, he had not sought to kill tonight.

His experiment had failed.

He would never be Charlie the good guy. Dr. Bjord was right. He wasn't worthy.

He was X-10 the monster.

Then she coughed.

Color rushed into her face. She leaned over and hacked. Exultation rushed through him. He pulled her up. Her body shook as she sputtered, tried to breathe.

He held her in his arms. She beat feebly on his chest. "You tried to kill me."

"No...no! I didn't realize my strength." He leaned his big head down on her petite one. "I'm sorry."

"Water," she whispered.

He placed her on his bed and rushed to get her a drink from his tiny fridge then knelt before her.

She drank an entire water bottle and squinted at him. "You didn't mean to hurt me?"

"Never. I-I love you." His heart unfolded as he said it and he breathed her wonderful smell that gave him life.

She intertwined her dainty fingers with his brutish ones and bent her head to touch his. Her hair hung glorious and alive around her, framing him in her world. Her hand grazed his face then she stood and pulled her clothes on.

"My hour is done, Charlie."

"Come back?" He hoped. Could she be another reward? He would do anything.

She looked at him with sad eyes. "What will you do to me next time?"

"Love you."

She turned away, knocked on the door. The lock clicked. Metal slid open. She stepped through the space that would separate them.

"Sabrina, stay." He was captivated.

She glanced back. "Goodbye, Charlie. I hope you never forget your first time."

He stared at her in anguish and then her gold was gone.

"Wait. Don't go!" He came out of his reverie and rushed to the door. "He'll kill you!" But the door locked in place. He beat his fists on it. Even if he had gotten through he would never escape. Drugs sprayed into the air from his captor would knock him out the instant he tried.

"Bjord, leave her alone!" There was no answer from his master. "You hear me? Keep her here with me. I'll do anything you want. Anything!"

He paced his cell that night, smashing his hands on the concrete walls until they bled, wondering if she made it back to the streets. Wanting her to be back on the streets. Wanting her to be with other men. It would mean she was alive. He sought her out in the city with his mind's eye but she was nowhere.

Finally, he fell into a nightmarish sleep. He stood on a riverbank and pieces of Sabrina floated by. An arm. A leg. A hand, frozen in a delicate wave. Her decapitated head stared at him with those blue eyes as her gilded hair flowed behind her.

When he woke, visions of Sabrina riding him with lust and tenderness fell heavy in his mind. And something white lay on the floor.

He wiped the sleep from his eyes and sat up, staring at it.

Sabrina's shirt.

Slashed with red.

A memento from Dr. Bjord.

He staggered out of bed and smashed the camera that mocked him. He would pay for that later.

He fell on his knees and caressed her blouse then picked it up gently so as not to add to its wounds. He breathed deep of this garment that had clung to her as she had to him. Her sweetness filled him–and then loss replaced it. She had called him an angel, but she was now the angel. His tears wet her shroud. It was all he could give her now. He willed Sabrina's musk– _their_ musk–into his mind forever. He _wasn't_ a monster. He hadn't killed her. Dr. Bjord had.

And the doctor's end would come soon.

X-10 hugged his first love to his chest and drifted back into his dreams where Sabrina could live again...and call him Charlie.

# The Job

_Felix_

The curl of the woman's hair called to him. It was Laura's hair. Burnt strands of copper and fire. He had seen it a hundred times, in person as well as his dreams and visions. He had tried to keep his presence hidden from Laura over the years, but she knew he watched her. She had caught him once and asked why he followed her. That was the only time he spoke to her before disappearing again. _I need to know what you are_ , he said.

"Felix?"

He re-focused his eyes on the flesh and blood woman before him, Maria, who drove him to thoughts of Laura. "We'll do it tonight."

She nodded, squinting at him, and stood. The angles of her face were sharper than Laura's as if each killing she had performed over time shaped the hardness of her on the outside–as well as the inside.

"I'll be at the bar at nine then." She gathered up her notes.

"I'll wait for you to bring the men to the motel room. You're sure you can convince them?"

"I've never had a problem before. And these two like to share."

He eyed her figure with a longing never realized. Her body was tight and lithe. The lines of her muscles wrapped around her as if a chisel had etched them from stone. She stretched and his eyes grazed her breasts that thrust outward. He admired their roundness. He could see how they would call a man to mold his hands around them. To feel their supple flesh and lick those nipples into arrow points. Her body was encased in metal, and her breasts were the cannons ready to blast a man's armor away.

Not his. He was not so tempered by emotion and he didn't want to be. It was not in his nature as a Seeker from his world. He pushed his desire deep down, away from the part of him that was half human. Maria was all human and all emotion. It was in the tremors that flashed through her every muscle and limb, but she controlled it for her purpose. If she had been from his world she would be a Destroyer, violent in her passion to devour flesh through lust or death. He had read her portfolio. He knew the men she seduced, just as she knew the men he killed.

She noticed his wandering eyes. "I thought your kind could not be tamed by a woman."

He shrugged, unsure what to say, and stood up. The harsh light in the meeting room cast dark shadows under her breasts. They now seemed the focus of the room. Time to leave. "Nine tonight. Don't be too long."

She smoothed a hand over her hair, pulling it flat. It bounced back on her shoulder, the curl eager to be free. "It never takes me long." And in that flick of silky rope he saw Laura in a flash–running across a field, her chestnut hair shining in the sun. She too longed to be free in the wide-open spaces.

"And we'll do it quick before things get involved."

She smiled at him. "You don't want to watch, Felix? Might change your mind about handling a woman. With your dark looks and body, women would desire you."

"I've had women." He looked away. An awkward thrill ran through his body but it was subdued, as all his emotions were. They lay there under the surface, never fully explored.

"Experiments. That's all. Government eyes watching."

"Experiment or not, the government is always watching."

She nodded, her smile gone, and stared at him for a long moment. In that stare he saw her bitter shellac melt into sweet wine for a brief instant. She was just a young woman bound to a life she could not escape. Did she too long to be free? An unfamiliar pang hit him. He would be glad when this job with Maria was over. He did not need a woman so close who reminded him of Laura.

She left and his unease passed. He made his way to his private room in the government facility where he had lived his entire forty-three years. After each dirty job he returned here. The antiseptic smell and the concrete walls called to him. It's all he knew. They finally trusted him to remain under their watch and had removed his guidance device. They knew he had nowhere to go. This was home. It was his "every day," safe and comforting like Laura.

He stretched out on his bed, needing to rest his mind before his job. Killing was what he did. If he refused he would die. It was a simple bond he had with the U.S. Government. He was a Seeker. They created him, controlled him, and owned him. Just as they had owned the human woman assigned to bear an alien child from a secret breeding experiment. His mother.

But Laura was _his_ secret experiment. He was the only one on assignment in that rural town the night she was born of a human mother and alien father. Only one child was expected for government experimentation, not two. And so he delivered her twin to his keepers and let her go free. He then watched her as she grew into a lovely young woman with her adoptive family, and wondered what kind she would become from his world. When she revealed herself to be a Healer, Felix still kept her existence secret from all government eyes–except his. She did not fit into the puzzle of his life. She was on the outside calling to him, somehow breaking through the emotional barrier genetically bound to him that separated him from humans. Yet when he watched her from his mind's eye something fluttered inside him. He did not recognize it. They were the same mix of blood. What kind of emotion was this? A feeling of belonging? He drank it in like an elixir, but was afraid to saturate himself in it.

Now he felt another unfamiliar emotion with Maria. Only she was here in person, lurking with real danger. He wondered about her tonight. He had always worked alone before. When cleaning up after a kill his superior human strength allowed him to lug even the most massive of men away with no trouble. He had never been assigned a partner.

When he learned he would be working with Maria, he had sought her out on her last mission with his mind's eye to watch her operate. Her professional seduction of the male target was polished. When she took the man she devoured his manhood, her back arched with those perfect breasts aimed for the soft underbelly of the man. And when the man's lustful weakness was fully exposed in his release, she made her kill fast and clean. Then the cleaners came in to dispose of the bodies and mess. Felix was one of them.

He appreciated a quick kill. The coupling of a man and woman he could not. The few times he had been required to mate for a project it was mechanical, and he closed his eyes to the body beneath him. Her moans and warm, wet depths had driven him to the required conclusion, but he did not want to think of that body as a person. He only touched her where trained, each stroke like a cog in a wheel turning round and round to complete his job.

He closed his eyes and slept. When he awoke he felt like an empty shell again, ready to do his job. He did not know why this father and son were targeted tonight. He did not care. He was never given a reason, just an objective.

He dressed in dark clothes and readied his killing equipment. Gun. Knife. Rope. And body bags. Extra-large. One of the reasons Maria needed a secondary partner for the job. Both men were husky and tall, but still not as large as Felix. His bulk was hard to hide. He drove to the motel and backed his car into the last spot near the woods. She had made sure to get the unit on the end, away from the main office and other possible guests.

He tried the door. It was locked. She was supposed to leave it open for him so he could hide in the closet. It was unlike her to let a detail of the operation slide, and this bothered him. Headlights turned in to the motel parking lot. He had no time to break in. He ran around back into the woods. A light flicked on in Maria's room providing him with a view through a window. The shade was half drawn but he could see into a bathroom; its door was open to the bedroom. He contemplated how he would get in when the time was right.

The men followed Maria in. Her laughter called to him. It sounded so feminine, sweet in its ring. Like Laura's laugh. A muscle twitched in his neck listening to her lazy voice, but he had a job here to do. Maria was just a part of that job. A cog in his wheel. Nothing more.

Felix strained to assess the situation better below the blind, frustrated that he could only see the room's occupants from the knees down. The men called Maria dirty names. Her dress slid to the floor. She stepped out of it. The men undressed as well. She laughed. Then she cried out. She twisted around; her feet stumbled. She was gone from his view.

"Now you're gonna get it hard, lady," the one man taunted her.

Her muted cry called out to Felix. This was all going wrong. He heard a high-pitched shriek. He ran around to the cheap room door and slammed against it. It gave way instantly. The younger man was between her buttocks, pushing into her and yanking her head up by her hair. She screamed and struggled to get up but he slapped her head. The older man watched from the chair, stroking himself. Gun in hand; Felix took the men out with two quick silenced shots. Their surprised faces hung in the air. The man slumped across Maria's body. She was crying. He dragged the man off her and dropped him on the floor at the feet of his father's body.

"Are you all right?"

She pushed herself up and swayed. Blood oozed from her cut lip. He stepped over the dead man and grabbed a towel from the tiny bathroom and handed it to her. She held it, trembling, but just stood there. He took it from her and wrapped her in it, averting his eyes from her nakedness. He had not expected her to cry. She was tough. She had been in difficult situations before. She had killed for the job. Used her body for the job.

He cleared his throat. "I have to get rid of them."

She nodded, looking in a daze at the wall straight ahead.

"Just sit."

She didn't move. He hesitated, then put his hands on her shoulders and looked into her brown eyes. He had never realized they were such a deep brown flecked with gold. A strange sensation flooded through him. He wanted to protect her. He helped her to the bed.

"I'll be back."

He got down to business then and placed the men in a body bag each, stuffed them in the trunk of his car then cleaned up the blood on the floor. The parking lot was empty. All the curtains were drawn on the other room windows. The main office was empty and dark. All good.

Maria sat on the bed looking at the floor. The towel didn't cover much. Her bare legs were tinted with a spray of freckles. They matched the ones that arched across her nose.

"Did they...?" He reached for the right word but could find none.

"He just started, but in the wrong end."

Felix had no words for that one. He stood over her and shifted his feet. Finally he asked, "Does it hurt?"

She shook her head and looked at him with watery eyes, her cleavage spilling out the top of the towel as her hand clutched it. "It happened before. In the same place...in me."

Silence hung between them. He fought the urge to get away. Maria's vulnerability wrapped around him like a robe tied too tight. It was like watching Laura in all her moments of need over the years. Only in those moments he was a Seeker just watching. He could do nothing. But Maria was here in the flesh, needing something. He did not know how to fill that need.

"On the job?"

"No," she said in a low voice. A tear fell and ran down her cheek. It dripped on her rising breast. He thought to wipe it away, just to see what her skin felt like, but fought the urge. It sparkled like a dew drop hanging from a blade of grass.

"My uncle. Many times. He did it there so I wouldn't get pregnant."

"Oh." Felix stuffed his hands in his pockets and clenched his fists.

Another tear fell. Her lip quivered.

"Thank you," she whispered.

He stared at her then realized he had not responded. He nodded. She stood up. The towel slipped a little, barely held up now by her round mounds. They were soft now, at rest. How could he have ever thought her body was an armored tank? She leaned into him. He stood rigid for a moment then relaxed. She took his hand out of his pocket and held it. He looked down. It was so small in his. Her smell washed over him. Sunflowers. Like the ones Laura grew.

"Will you do something for me?"

He cleared his throat, not sure what he could do. He didn't answer. That seemed safe. Her thumb stroked the inside of his wrist and he felt a familiar rising in his body. He fought it down but it remained. She leaned deeper into him. She must surely be able to feel him. He stepped back but she moved with him.

She looked up at him. "Did you like being with women, Felix?"

He looked over her head and tried to let go of her hand, but she held it tighter. "What do you want, Maria?"

"Will you just lay here and hold me for a while?"

"The bodies–"

"They aren't going anywhere."

"It's my job. You need to move on from what happened. We need to return to the facility."

He stepped back, releasing her hand. Her towel fell then. Her curves were everywhere. He bent to pick up the towel, but she didn't move. Her dark patch sprung before him, a thatched door to a secret place. He had never had a woman of his own choosing. What would it be like? His pants strained with need. He stood and handed her the towel. She took it and pulled him with it and he was embraced by her skin–a tangle of legs and flesh and tongues.

A real woman to touch. He slid his rough fingers through her hair. It poured from his hands like burnished gold. She tore open his shirt. He fumbled with his pants and was soon naked next to her on the bed. He kept his eyes open this time. He watched her as she watched him.

And her moans drove him to feelings locked deep down as she clenched him hard, drawing him in. He rode her in a soft canter over and over, yet she was the one who broke him in. And her breasts were the reins he stroked. Her warm saddle the place he moved in with a gentle rise and fall. Her mouth a shady trail to explore.

Only this coupling was no riding lesson. Faster and faster they moved in a slathered frenzy. He bucked wild within her as her breath seared his chest. She quaked beneath him with a sharp cry of release, and with a primal groan he clasped her tight and filled that secret dark place she offered him. He had never buried himself alive inside someone. It was suffocating and freeing all at once. And when it was over, he knew now what to give a woman in need and what to take from her for himself. She was the woman he would never have.

Her hand was on his chest. Her breast pressed into his side. "Who's Laura?"

"How do you know that name?"

"It's what you called me."

A memory flickered of thrusting into Maria, exploding deep in her liquid heat. He had called out Laura's name. "She's no one."

"Someone."

"A girl. Born like me. Both human and alien."

Her hand pushed harder into his chest. "There was only one other mixed child born in the last twenty years I heard. A boy. One we're raising in our facility."

He said no more. He knew he had said too much. But he had been inside her. _Really_ inside her. Could they share this too? She kissed his chest, her hair points of fire that crackled across his skin. His flesh sparked with new life.

"There was another. They were a set of twins."

"How can you know this?" Her lips moved across his chest, a wet pulsing that electrified him.

"I was there. I took the boy, but left the girl."

"This was in that small town in New York...Coopersville, right?"

Felix nodded but said nothing. She stroked between his legs and he rose hard again in her hands, incapable of stopping himself.

"She would be nearly eighteen now, right? What happened to her?"

"She's to be left alone."

"What's her name?"

He hesitated and pushed her hand away. "I told you. Laura."

"She still lives in that little town?"

He didn't respond and he was relieved when she asked no more. His unease faded as she pressed her body to his like a slow burning fire that flamed against him.

"And you love her." It wasn't a question.

"I am not capable of love."

"I think you are. Very much so, Felix."

"You're wrong."

"I hope so."

She sat up and went into the bathroom, leaving him to wonder about her last remark. He felt lonely for the first time, bereft with her body apart from his. When she came out she got dressed. He watched her. He had never seen a woman dress before. He sprawled on the bed naked enjoying the strange, new moment. She would not look at him. That uneasy feeling wormed its way through him again.

"Get dressed, Felix. Time to finish the job."

Her voice was tight, cold. Her clothes were her defense once more, a shell hiding the softness he had sunk into just minutes before. He stood and moved toward her, but she backed away.

"What's the matter?"

"My job is done, Felix. We need to return to base after dumping the bodies."

" _Your_ job?"

She threw his clothes at him. "You, Felix. You were my second job tonight."

"Those men?"

"They were your job. And you did it well."

"And I was _your_ job?" He yanked on his clothes. He had been foolish, speaking secrets aloud. Maria had unlocked his deepest desires, but now she returned them to the cage they had withered in for years. It would have been better if they were never released to begin with. But she did this. And he had let her.

"I was to find out if your kind could be seduced by a woman. And you were."

"I was," he repeated tonelessly. "And your uncle that hurt you?"

"I don't have an uncle."

"And the change in the job plan tonight. The locked door–"

"I told those men to take me rough. I needed to see if you would rescue me and you did. You took the damsel-in-distress call."

She was all business-like again. His heart rate returned to normal. In his explosive moment with her it had been a train rushing to break free from his chest. Now it pumped in its dependable steady rhythm. The new, wonderful feeling fled. She had given it to him and taken it away. He would not let it in again.

"But this makes no sense. Why? There's something you're not telling me."

She turned to the door but Felix yanked her back by the wrist. She cried out. He let go but moved in closer. A cold veil fell over him. How could he have thought she was his Laura? She wasn't sweetness and light. She was lust and betrayal.

"Tell me. Now."

She held up her phone, finger poised on a button. "I can hit this and we'll be surrounded in less than a minute."

"It won't take me a minute to kill you. And I know about your son. I know the facility he lives in. His schedule. So easy to finish him."

"You wouldn't," she whispered, her eyes wide.

"I would."

He pressed her up against the wall, her petite body crushed by his. She cringed and turned her face away. "Okay, Felix."

He stood back.

"I'm to report what I learned about that birth assignment you had years ago. And now I know about the girl. There've been recent suspicions about you and that job. I'm to make the call and tell them everything then you're to come in for questioning."

He shook his head and grabbed her arms, gentler this time. She didn't move away, but gripped her phone with a sad smile.

"Don't do this, Maria."

"Why not? You don't love this Laura. You just said you're not capable of love."

"It doesn't matter. She is not to be touched. What will become of her?"

"Her parents...probably eliminated. And she will be brought to the facility for testing."

"She has a life. Not like me. Why are you doing this?"

"It's my job."

"But you showed me something I didn't know existed. Didn't you feel it as well?"

"It was my job." She looked away.

"Maybe you don't have an uncle, but other men hurt you, didn't they?"

She shook her head, but still wouldn't look at him.

"I've been watching you a long time. Your son is disabled because he was born too early. A man beat and raped you when you were pregnant. You nearly died. I saw."

He let her go. His handprints were traced on her arms. Evidence that he had indeed touched a woman.

She looked at him with real tears in her eyes now and then walked to the door. Opened it. Looked back. "It's no use fighting it, Felix. They own Laura as they own you. Own me. If you don't give her up they will torture you until you do."

He walked toward her. "I never will."

"Then they will kill you."

He smiled down at her now. It felt strange on his face. It was foreign and false. She had unlocked his humanity and it had ruined everything. His life and hers. "No, they won't."

Her mouth hung open slightly, that mouth he had savored. With one sweep of his hand he shoved the door shut and grabbed her by the neck. She dropped her phone. He lifted her off the floor. She was his today. But Laura was his every day. Forever.

Maria shrieked. Once. Her body quivered beneath his hands as it had just minutes earlier. Her legs bucked. Her arms grabbed at him. She spasmed against him. And it was a different kind of pleasure for him now. And she watched him as he watched her.

And then she watched no more.

He added her to the trunk's cargo and went to dispose of the bodies.

It was his job.

# Frat Night

_A Coopersville Tale_

Tara gripped Jonah's hand, allowing herself to be pulled along the cliff and into the dense woods. The wind swirled her blonde hair in a ghostly veil as the moon fleetingly showed itself from behind the sable sky. Inky clouds rushed over her in a violent race to night's end. Branches clawed at her as if to warn her, _you're not wanted here._

"Jonah, I think a storm is coming. Maybe we should go back." Tara had to shout over the increasing wind.

Jonah turned and smiled. He pulled her near. His leather jacket strained against her cheek. She shivered beside his hard body in the warm spring night.

"Don't worry. We're almost there. We'll be safe in the castle," he said. He adjusted his knapsack and grabbed her hand, hurrying them along.

She stumbled after him. Her heart throbbed fast, knowing what they would do at the castle. She couldn't believe Jonah liked her the night they met a month ago. He was a cool senior in Phi Beta, and she only a freshman at her first frat party. She played shy trying to be different from the other girls. She told him she was a virgin. He respected that and always stopped right when things got too heated between them on the few dates they had. It was agony for Tara to go along with it. She had been more than kissed back home. Sometimes not so softly either. But she yearned for romance now and Jonah seemed like a gentleman.

One night after a hot make-out session in his room Jonah told her about an abandoned castle up on Coopersville Mountain above the college. Some rich man had built it for his fiancé who died before they married. Heartbroken, he moved away and let it sit in ruin. Jonah found it peaceful, he said. He would sit on the castle wall and think of taking someone special there. Tara knew he meant her. After all the time they'd spent together she would now give him what he wanted. What she wanted.

The castle loomed ahead. Its craggy spires taunted them. Jonah drew her inside. She caught a last glance of the woods as she passed into the rock walls. Blackness consumed her.

"Don't be scared." Jonah squeezed her hand.

He flicked on a lighter, casting tall shadows. The flame flickered in the wind that flew through the castle rooms, seeking escape. He had brought her to the castle's church sanctuary.

Tara darted her eyes around the room and held his hand tighter. He lit candles lining a rock ledge and the sanctuary grew cozy, embracing them. Jonah pulled a thick blanket from his knapsack and laid it on the stone floor. He glanced at her and she went to him. Her hair floated around him and he caressed it, kissing her. He pulled her down. Thunder broke. Their bodies intertwined with a desire that grew wilder as the wind raged on. Rain streamed down, spattering in from crevices. Lightning and candlelight exploded together in white fire, licking the walls of their hideaway.

When she was panting with need, he pushed aside her underwear to enter her. He was gentle at first. She rose to meet him in passion, but soon his soft breath on her neck turned to angry grunts. His slow thrusts became a pounding assault. He pulled her legs wider. She gasped in pain. Light flashed across his face. He was smiling.

"Jonah!" She pushed on his chest to slow his pace, but he held her down, slamming into her. He raised his head, and with a final thrust, groaned as he erupted deep in her quaking body. Tara tried to push him off, but he withdrew and stood up towering over her. She curled her arms in and sat up, crying. He was no different from the boys back home. She hated them. And she hated Jonah now.

"You're not a virgin." Jonah glared at her, his nakedness now terrifying.

"I...no, I'm not," Tara stammered. The room no longer glowed with romantic warmth. The stone walls rose cold around her.

"You lied to me. All this time I've put into you. Wasted!" He flung her clothes down. "Get dressed. But take your underwear off first."

Tara was confused but pulled off her underwear. He grabbed them. She drew on the rest of her clothes.

"I thought you liked me," Tara whispered, wiping away tears.

Jonah turned to her, now dressed as well. "I have a lot of money riding on you. Whoever nails the most virgins at Phi Beta this semester wins the pot." He gripped her underwear in his hand. "It's up to five grand. I need that money. Understand?"

"No, I don't," Tara said. She stopped crying. Rage churned inside her.

"I am tied with Brian Saunders–I would have won with you," he spat out. "Our last day is tomorrow. I don't want to split the money with him."

"Why are you doing this?" She felt so stupid.

"You girls are so eager to give it to a Phi Beta guy I might as well make money on you. Now you need to help me win it all." Jonah pulled a stone from the wall and drew out a bundle. He dropped it at her feet. It was underwear, bloodied from real virgins.

"It's my proof." Jonah laughed. "Now you're gonna prove it too." He flicked open a serrated knife.

Tara stumbled back. _Who even knew she was here?_

_"_ Give me your finger." He leered. "We need blood. Get it?" He shook her underwear. His knife pointed down, glinting in the candlelight.

Lightning flashed through the window behind Tara, and Jonah shut his eyes. In that instant, Tara shoved his hand away. The knife pierced his side. Jonah screamed and fell to his knees, grabbing for her. He got the cuff of her jeans, but she lunged for the door.

She pushed through the woods, her legs pumping, feeling her way. The moon hid behind thick clouds. Rain poured over her in a streaming cacophony. _Was he following her? How bad had she hurt him?_

"You bitch," Jonah yelled.

Tara stopped, straining to see him.

"I'm gonna find you!"

Branches snapped behind her. She kept running, disoriented, when the ground gave way. She slid and reached out, grabbing a tree trunk. The moon still offered no light. _Was she near the cliff?_ She sunk in the mud behind the tree, shivering in wet clothes. The rain fell in a roar.

A mass moved in the shadows. Jonah staggered along, bent at the waist.

"Tara, oh, Tara," he sang over the rain. "Where are you?"

He was so close she could stand up and touch him. She was gripped with fear–then fury. She stood up and ran at him, shoving him hard in the chest. "Fuck you!"

His eyes blazed white in the dark. He tried to grab her, but disappeared from view.

A perverse joy rose within her but then she slid on mud. She fell on her knees and crawled to where he fell. _Where was he?_ As if to answer, the moon broke through the clouds and lit the landscape. It _was_ the cliff. He was on a ledge about thirty feet down–legs and arms splayed like a broken doll. Then he moved.

"Tara, help...I'm sorry." The rain slowed. His voice carried up to her.

She stared down at him, willing him to die.

He twisted his head to look up.

"Please, don't leave me. It was just a game...I did like you. I _do_ like you. God...why did you have to stab me. Oh, man. I'm bleeding. A lot. I think my leg and arm are broken too."

Tara held onto the cliff's edge, watching in silence. The moon slid out from its hideaway illuminating Jonah's crooked body. The rain had stopped. She didn't feel cold anymore. She was caked in drying mud, but gladness surged through her, listening to Jonah's pleas. Empowerment consumed her. No one could hurt her again.

"Tara!" Jonah sobbed and she felt giddy.

She giggled. _What was wrong with her?_

His cries grew weaker. They tapered off.

Die you bastard.

Jonah was motionless _._

_Better make sure_.

She picked up a rock and threw it down. It plunked off him and fell further. He didn't move. She threw another. Then another. In a gleeful rage, she howled as she pummeled him with rocks until there were none left. Her satisfaction spent, she crawled back into the woods and stood up.

The moon glowed soft through the trees, lighting the way.

She strolled back, enjoying the spring night.

# The Tree of Sheltered Secrets

_A Coopersville Tale_

I saw the house standing there. The clouds rushed over it like a roaring river tumbling along to the sea. This house I had only seen in my mind for ten years. Now abandoned. The paint peeled from it in layers. The sky was an act of violence above the still and silent house. This house that made me. It was now as lifeless as I felt.

Then I saw the empty space behind it. An act of violence had happened here too. My favorite apple tree was gone. Like the grandfather of trees, its craggy arms once reached out to me in a snarling embrace. It had watched over me. In summer I stood on the rock wall and hid myself in its fruit-filled drapes. I would dance under it with fireflies on searing summer nights when I couldn't breathe in my stifling bedroom.

I tightened my stomach. It hurt. It felt good to hurt. And I wanted to hurt the one who had hurt my old friend.

This tree had been my summer, my winter, my fall, and spring. I walked toward the empty space my friend had occupied near the rock wall it once hugged. I couldn't hide anymore. The rest of the orchard stood behind the wall, full and strong as always.

I sat down beside the rock wall. I tried to hide into it like I did my comforting tree, but it was cold and lifeless. I wanted to disappear, as I had often wanted to disappear growing up in that house across from my tree. I had hurt there, although not of my own doing.

"Hilary!" My name rose over the wind and my uncle came around the side of the house.

I shrunk into the jagged rock and hugged my knees to my chest. I wiped my face on my muddy jeans.

"Hilary, what the hell are you doing?" My uncle hovered, hands on his hips.

"Nothing."

"You're filthy." He sighed and grabbed my arm, pulling me up. "We've got to go. I said we could only stop in Coopersville for a minute."

I shook my arm off and walked ahead of him. Perhaps he was my guardian now but he couldn't control me.

"Wait, I want you to get that mud off before you get in the car."

I kept walking.

"You wanted to see your tree didn't you?" I turned to stare at him. "I could have told you it wasn't here."

"Why?"

"I was the one who cut it down."

I glared at him and crossed my arms.

"So it couldn't hide you anymore."

My uncle strode ahead of me and opened the back of the car. He pulled out some rags and threw them at me.

"Wipe your pants off and your face too. We never should have stopped here. It's been ten years since your parents died. You're seventeen now. This place doesn't matter anymore."

I stared at the rags on the ground. Today, I cried inside–not for my parents but for a tree.

My uncle half smiled as he moved toward me. He picked up the rags. I stared at the bald spot on his head. He wiped my cheek gently, but I grabbed the rags away from him. He would not touch me again.

His eyes shrunk into tiny pits of blackness. "Get in the car."

I looked back at the empty space where my tree had been. It had been my only shelter on nights when my uncle visited my bedroom. I hid myself then under its bowed arms and leaves, terrified he would find me. Summer had been my savior from him when the leaves grew. And then one night he did find me.

I watched him get in the driver's side but I didn't move. I turned and ran. Back to that empty space. I scrambled over the rock wall and ran through the orchard.

"Hilary!" I heard a car door slam.

I felt like my heart would leap out of my chest to quiver and die right there upon the earth. My heart had nearly died in that house. It never blossomed again, but lay dormant and shriveled within me all these years.

"I hate you!" Ragged branches tugged at me. I stumbled then and fell. I was wet and cold but didn't get up. I suffered on the muddy earthen floor. I had suffered for so long.

Finally, I stood.

I didn't want to suffer anymore.

"Hilary."

I saw my uncle's head move closer. And then in my dark world I saw beauty. White crocuses poked their heads up in a joyful burst next to me. I picked them and held them to my face, breathing in their sweetness. I wet them with my tears and spread their softness on my cheeks. Next to them I saw wood and wire. An old farm fence. A reminder that we needed to be walled in. That there were places that had boundaries. I wished for a place like that now.

I grasped one of the rotted stakes from that fallen fence. I tugged at it. It was sharp at the top, like an arrow.

"Hilary! You can't run from me, dear."

I didn't answer.

"I know how you feel. Don't you think I miss my brother?"

Liar. He had me all to himself now. Like he had always wanted. I tugged harder and the stake loosened. My uncle crunched on dead branches and leaves. Barbed wire wrapped around the stake like the prickly necklace of a wrinkled woman seeking to be beautiful once again. It looked beautiful to me.

It came free and I slipped behind a tree. I saw him. His head bent, picking his way around muddy spots. He hated getting dirty. He hated me getting dirty. But he was the one who made me dirty.

I shrunk behind the tree and waited. Held that stake like a sword. The barbed wire cut into my hands. I held it tighter. I was ready to claim my heart again. My uncle's boots snapped on a twig. It echoed loud in the lonely woods. He was so close I could hear him breathing.

And it was then that I decided I would hide no more.

# The Beginning

After They Left

Adrian

The silent dark hung under a star-filled sky. Adrian picked up his bag and scanned his crew across the field, counting quickly. Seventy-five. They understood their duty and accepted it. They were chosen by him in secret. None would return. There was nothing to go back to except death.

His son, Caleb, stood across from him, waiting as the others did. Their pale faces glowed like orbs within their gray hooded robes. It was too dark to see if his son's face held scorn or doubt. It was usually one or the other. Especially since he had deceived Caleb about this mission–and his own intentions.

The group waited for his instruction. "We head toward town."

Caleb opened his mouth as if to say something. His black hair, like his face, was a constant reminder of his mother. Adrian frowned and his son shut his mouth and nodded, stepping in behind him. Rain fell soft, cold and lifeless.

The dark deepened as they headed into the forest. Ancient conifers towered over them, blocking out the moon. Adrian allowed his senses to guide him. The nearest town of Benevolence was five miles northwest. He smiled to himself. It was the perfect town for a stolen new beginning.

He stopped after a while and opened his mind's eye for guidance on which way to go.

"Father, how much further?" Caleb called. "Some of the younger females are struggling."

Caleb's dark eyes stung him through the mist that rose up from the forest floor. How he wanted a son like himself, instead of one so like his wife. All that sadness and longing in her eyes, the day he'd left her to die in the well. That pity.

"Two more miles. Arrange for some of the others to take on the baggage of those in need."

"Can't we stop for a bit and rest?" His people grumbled audibly. They looked wet and tired, a sea of gray flowing down from him. Such weakness. He would have to drive that out.

And he would breed another to take Caleb's place. He already had a female in mind for the job. She smiled at him in the crowd, holding the promise of submission. But time was running out to groom a new son.

"We do not stop." Adrian's voice rose over the line of people before him. "You all took the oath to come here. Hard work lies before us in breeding our new community. Understood?"

He didn't wait for a response but turned around and plunged faster through the woods. His people followed in silence, as he knew they would. If they didn't they knew the consequences. As did Caleb. His son had no special privilege here.

At last Adrian stepped out onto a paved road. It stretched far into the distance, where welcoming lights beckoned them across the final mile. They reached the main intersection of town. A car flashed by, radio blaring. Faces stared out at them. He realized how out of place they looked, this robed group out late at night. He motioned for his people to follow him single file down the sidewalk. A handful of people sat behind windows drinking. They pointed at Adrian and his people as they walked by. "Gillian's Bar" flashed in neon green above the doorway in the late evening hours. A man and woman, heading into the bar, stepped back from the sidewalk to watch them pass. _Freaks_ , he heard the man say. Adrian erased the memory of the encounter from these strangers' minds in the seconds it took to pass them.

"Father," Caleb hissed in his ear. "Where are we going?"

A large building rose at the far end of a parking lot. "Ray's Lots" blinked over and over.

"Here is where we go."

A fat woman pushed a cart filled with bags to her car, the only car left in the lot. She stopped and stared at them. Her hair framed her face in tight curls. A blue and white striped dress strained to contain her breasts and belly.

"Good evening, brothers." She nodded to them.

Adrian motioned for his group to stop. He smiled at the woman's assumption that hidden in these robes were church folk. She smiled back.

"Good evening, madam," Adrian drawled.

"God bless you." She grabbed his hand. Repulsed by her bloated, clammy hand he forced himself not to pull away. Perhaps he could use her for those who did not obey him by forcing them to breed with her. He almost laughed and then looked at her with a serious face.

"And God bless you, my child," he said.

"What church are you with? Are you having an event in town?"

The woman fingered a cross at her neck. A church. It hadn't occurred to him until then what a perfect word this was for their procreation. "It's the Church of Elyon."

The woman frowned. "Never heard of that one. You're not one of those crazy cults are you?"

Caleb stepped to Adrian's side. _Let me work her mind, father_. "What's your name?"

"Sally."

"I'm Caleb." He smiled at her and shook her hand, taking Adrian's cue. "We're just folks who follow God and Jesus. We seek food and a place to stay nearby. Our bus broke down outside of town. Can you help us?"

"What a nice young man you are. Of course I can help you!" She abandoned her cart and pulled Caleb toward the store. "My cousin runs this superstore and can stock you up with food. And the Mercenary Motel is just down the street."

Impressed with Caleb's mind control of the woman, Adrian followed them into the store. His people streamed in behind him. Sally dragged Caleb to a counter where a short red-faced man scowled at them. "Ray, these folks are here in town from a wonderful church! Their bus broke down and they need food."

Adrian probed Ray's brain, took easy control of it, and within seconds the man's frown changed to a wide grin. "Come in, come in! I was just closing up anyhow." He flicked the sign on the front door and shut off the lights outside.

"Thank you," Adrian nodded. "I need food here for my flock before we find a motel."

"Help yourself to anything you want." Ray ran his hands over shelves. "Pretzels, baked beans, cereal, Ding Dongs." Sally and Ray beamed at them.

Adrian quickly directed everyone to gather snacks and drinks then set about his first experiments in Benevolence. Sally and Ray stood by the counter, their minds blank except for what Adrian put in them.

"Ray, I need all your money now."

Ray clapped his hands together. "Of course!" He pulled out a bag and money from a nearby cash register.

When Adrian's bag was full he smiled at Ray and Sally. "Time to go now, my new friends." He motioned his people out the door. Ray and Sally stood with stupid smiles on their faces as the group filed out into the parking lot. All except Caleb.

"Come on, Father." His voice held a warning. "Our job here is done."

"Not quite." Adrian moved toward the smiling cousins. "Ray, isn't Sally lovely? Look at her."

Ray turned to Sally. His pants bulged and Sally's eyes widened. She tugged on her dress top.

"Have your way with her Ray, you know you want to."

"Father," Caleb whispered angrily, clutching at him. Adrian stayed his hand.

Ray licked his lips and nodded again.

"Sally, unzip that fine dress and show Ray what you've got."

Sally stepped out of her dress. Her belly oozed over her thighs and her bra cut into her heavy breasts. Ray panted, tapping his hands against his skinny legs.

Caleb moved toward the door.

"Stay son, I want you to watch this."

"I won't."

"You _will_ or you know the consequences."

Caleb, stopped and sighed, looking down at the floor.

"Look."

Caleb looked up. Hate spewed from his eyes and his jaw twitched with anger. Adrian thrived on his hate. He wanted him to hate. Adrian nodded, pleased, and turned back to his playthings. Ray was panting, massaging his crotch. Sally moaned, squeezing her mammoth breasts and stepped out of her underwear.

"Take her Ray. Bend her right over that counter. Dive into all that lushness."

"Lush, yes!" Ray moved toward Sally, unbuckling his pants. She giggled and bent over the counter to receive him, her white bottom spread like a pitted sea of blubber. Ray mounted her and they rutted like dogs. He slapped up against her in his glory.

"Lordie, Lordie!" Sally sang out as she bounced up and down.

"Now that's wholesome entertainment!" Adrian laughed, poking his son. Caleb jerked away. "They're both enjoying it."

Caleb clenched his fists and shoved them in his pockets. "Can we go now?"

"Yes, son, just one other thing to do."

Adrian pulled out a pocketknife he had picked up in the hardware section. He placed it next to Ray on the counter. Sweat flicked off the man's forehead as he ecstatically plunged into buttery flesh.

"Ray, enjoying yourself?"

Ray grunted and grabbed on to Sally's hips, sinking into her expanse. She moaned again, her undulating buttocks shuddering in delight.

"Good. When you're done fucking, kill the bitch."

Adrian strode out the door, pulling Caleb along with him.

"Father, no!" Caleb struggled against him, but Adrian shoved him hard through the door. His people parted for them. Some looked questioningly at him. If they came to doubt him, he would deal with them later. He was both law maker and enforcer.

"Watch. Anyone who turns away will be considered weak. And the weak shall die."

All eyes turned toward the store. The carnal scene played out desperately before them.

"I hate you," Caleb whispered, watching the forced lovers before him.

Adrian smiled at him in satisfaction.

Ray arched his back with a groan and finished his business. Sally squealed and pressed up against him. And when he raised the knife and plunged into Sally in new ways, she squealed again. And again. Her blood ran onto scuffed tiles and still she squealed. And then she stopped.

Adrian laughed.

His time here was just beginning.

# A Lucky Strike

_Ben_

Ben Fieldstone watched the coffin as it was lowered into the earth and fantasized new ways to kill his foster father.

He drags Frank in his drunken daze to the shed, holds up his reeking body, and presses his head in the vise on the workbench. He winds the mechanism...tighter, tighter...Frank mumbles and shrieks...his skin splits and blood oozes down his face.

He didn't know what would happen if you squeezed someone's head in a vise. Would it just pop and bits of brain and blood explode outward or would it be a slow, bloody mess? His heart pulsed quicker just thinking of it. He knew he could never kill Frank, though. Ben was tall, but thin, and no match against Frank's bulky, squat frame.

"Hey, let's go." Frank nudged him. "I need to get outta here." His red-rimmed eyes made him appear forlorn over the passing of his wife, Emma, but Ben knew it was the booze. He nodded and ripped off his black jacket, heading toward the rusty car baking in the blistering August heat. It was as if the world had taken its last breath. Summer had sucked the life out of all things green, leaving the cemetery a burnt landscape. His shirt clung to his chest, and the sweat rolled down his back.

He already missed Emma. His foster mother had been kind to him, when she was sober. But when drunk, she had stared at the TV, ignoring Frank's rages. Those were the nights Frank chased him around the house. Sometimes he used the belt, the one with the heavy metal buckle on it that could catch him across the tender parts behind his knees. Sometimes Frank just liked to kick and pummel. Ben, at seventeen, was afraid to fight back. He'd weather the beatings until he turned eighteen. He had been in five foster homes over the past eight years. He'd seen worse.

He and Frank drove back in silence.

"You need to take over Emma's place now." Frank pulled up to their small bungalow. "The laundry, dishes, cleaning...grocery shopping, too."

A tear slid down his sagging cheek. He didn't bother to wipe it away. Ben tried to feel sympathy, but staring at Frank's rough hands on the steering wheel, he only knew hatred.

"No problem." Ben jumped out of the car. Up in his room he stretched out on his bed and let his mind wander. If he hadn't run away the night at the lake, he would be dead too, just like his parents. Sometimes he wished it had happened. Dead would be better than this place. Since then he had closed himself off from people. He didn't want to take the chance of loving anyone again. If a foster family decided not to keep him, he couldn't be hurt by their rejection. So he shuffled along from family to family, biding his time. He kept his painful memories just beneath the surface. He closed his eyes against them and dozed off.

When he woke up, dark enveloped him. Banging noises came from downstairs. He jerked upright. What could Frank be doing? He eased out of his room and moved with quiet control down the stairs from his room. He found Frank smoking at the kitchen table. The light hovered dim, the globe full of dead bugs. Ben counted nine empty beer cans scrunched up on the table.

"Want something to eat?" he asked, to gauge Frank's mood. He opened the fridge.

"If I wanted something to eat, don'tcha think I'd be eating it?" Frank spat on the floor. Grimacing, he dropped his head on his arms and started to cry.

Ben stood still. The sobbing bounced off him. He shifted from foot to foot the longer Frank cried. He forced himself to move nearer and placed his hand on Frank's thick shoulder.

"We'll be okay. You'll see." Ben tensed and snatched back his hand in disgust. As he turned back to the fridge, Frank touched his bottom. Ben stopped mid-step. He held his breath. He told himself it was just a light pat. Until the pat became a caress. It lingered. Soft in its want. He darted to his room, not looking back.

He dragged out his backpack from beneath his dusty bed and filled it, keeping one ear cocked for Frank's approach.

And it came.

He shoved the backpack under his bed. The door swung open, and there stood Frank.

"Don't ever walk away from me. You hear?" Frank leaned on the doorframe; his shirt clung to his gut.

Ben nodded with his head down, hoping Frank would leave. He had a terrifying vision of Frank throwing him on the bed, pulling down his jeans, and mounting him like a pig. He clenched his buttocks together.

"Why don't you answer me?" Frank staggered into the room, his face red and sweaty. He grabbed Ben by the shirt. "Get up!"

Ben shook off Frank's hand. "Leave me alone! You make me sick."

Frank's eyes narrowed. He shoved Ben down. He kicked him in the back, then the head. Ben curled into a fetal position.

"Who do you think–you–are?" Frank delivered a kick with each word.

Fury exploded through Ben's brain. He grabbed Frank's foot mid-kick, throwing him off balance, and punched him hard in the chest as he fell. He had never hit him before. Frank made a loud _whoomph_ as he landed on an elbow. He slowly stood and clutching his elbow, took a shaky step toward Ben. But then Frank's red face suddenly turned pale and he grabbed his left shoulder. He contorted in a twisted dance. With a gruesome grimace, he stumbled out of the room.

Ben touched his forehead. Blood oozed slick. He wasn't sure what just happened. But he was glad it did. His hands trembled. His back knotted with pain. He had to get out. He pulled out a boot from under his bed and grabbed a roll of money he had been pilfering from Frank's top drawer over time. He had enough for a bus ticket and a cheap room. He'd find a place where no one could hurt him again. If he was found and brought back to Frank the beating might be more than he could take. But he had to face this fear. If Frank did more than beat him he would want to die anyway.

He swung his backpack over his shoulder and looked back at the bare room. He had never belonged here. He fought off self-pity and pushed open the door to listen. The television's ghostly light poured from Frank's bedroom and murmured old comedy.

Ben tiptoed to the door. Frank sat in bed, his eyes shut. He had passed out, an arm spread out on his leg. A cigarette hung from his fingers, the ash still glowing. The television flickered, canned laughter filled the room. Ben kept his gaze on the cigarette. The ash grew. Then the cigarette slipped. It quivered. It tumbled in slow motion. Nothing happened. The sheets smoldered. Laughter rang out again. Ben looked at the television. Some character ran around a kitchen. His gaze returned to the fallen cigarette. Minutes passed like hours to him.

He needed to choose. Run, or pick up the cigarette and prevent the certain fire? If he did nothing and Frank died, would he be a murderer? But Frank could have killed him just now. Might still kill him, or worse, if he ever caught him. He continued to stare where the cigarette fell. The flames burst up from the sheets and fanned along the comforter, framing Frank in a soft glow. They licked with hungry abandon through the old bedspread until Frank's image blurred. Why didn't Frank wake up? But he looked so serene, so harmless. Ben felt free and safe seeing him like that.

And he knew. He had to live. He wanted to live.

He ran.

# Excerpt

A Human Element

Ben

Ben watched the pretty, tall brunette from across the bar. She flicked her long hair back and laughed with her short friend as she sipped a beer. Her white teeth gleamed against her tan in the red glow of the Chinese lanterns strung above the bar. Ben could tell she was a tourist seeking vacation adventure in Honolulu's rough spots. Hud's Place was no place for a white _wahine_ from the mainland to be hanging out after 10:00 p.m. North of Hotel Street in Chinatown, or NoHo as it was called, carried its distinction as the known spot for prostitute action any time of the week. He swallowed the last of his beer and laughed to himself. SoHo could be a better name for the so-many-ho's that could be had around here. He knew. At twenty-one and after three years stationed at Pearl Harbor in the Navy, he had sampled them all. Chinese, Korean, Hawaiian, Philippine, Tahitian. Anything exotic you wanted. If you liked big mamas you could hook up with fat Samoan women, lurking on street corners strutting their expansive goods.

"Hey, let's get outta here and head downtown." Andy Novatoski clapped his big, tan hand on Ben's back. "Some of the other guys from base said they'd meet us down in Waikiki later. There's a new place on Kapiolani. It's supposed to be hopping. Lots of blonde babes from California seeking some sailor lovin'."

"I don't know." Ben's head hurt from too many Hinano beers and he was thinking of switching to vodka to get good and drunk. It could relieve the dull pain throbbing at his temples, until tomorrow. Hud's Place was not a bar that handed out flowery, umbrella Mai Tais. Beer and straight booze only in this dive bar. It sat in Chinatown's red light district where you could get cheap, stiff drinks, and listen to some decent music. That is, if you could get past the prostitutes, drug dealers, and meth addicts begging for money. Tonight a hump-backed man, reminiscent of Johnny Cash, cranked away songs on the tiny stage. The place only had a maximum capacity of seventy-five and Ben liked that. It was a dirty, dark cubbyhole where he could hide. Sometimes Andy tagged along to humor him.

"Come on, man." Andy persisted. "Enough of the ghetto Chinatown scene. Let's go where the clean action is. I don't want some old cougar winking her gray _punani_ at me. I want me a young thang after some hot sailors!"

"Big, blond, Viking sailors you mean." Ben grinned back. Andy was a magnet for all kinds of women, but he could score easy with the young girls on vacation from anywhere-USA. At 6'4" Andy stood larger than life with streaked, white-blond hair, ice-blue eyes, and chiseled features. He looked like some Norse god standing at the helm of his great ship, sailing into harbor from a long voyage at sea. Women shivered when they saw him, probably envisioning him throwing them over his shoulder to claim them for the night in a romping good time. All Andy needed was a cloak, horned helmet, and axe to complete the look. Unlike himself. Ben knew he appeared as a scowling, rebellious teenager mad at the world with his slouched posture, dark looks, and hands shoved in his pockets.

"Nah, just a dumb Pollack they can have their way with." Andy shot back. "We'll find someone for you, I promise. I'll share. You can be my brooding sidekick Hank, from Texas. The chicks will think you've been hurt by love and want to heal your broken heart. Come on, let's go."

Ben looked over at the dark-haired beauty at the other end of the bar, glad they had arrived early and gotten seats. She smiled at him and then looked away. He could see the top of her breasts pushing up through her white tank top as she leaned over the bar to get another beer. Her friend said something funny and the brunette flung her hair back. Her breasts poked out in enchanting round mounds as she arched her back and laughed. She looked so clean and white and American. Usually he came to Hud's to be left alone and drink himself into a slow stupor among hip music. He could always count on ending up in a back room on Hotel Street. There he could get quick relief for $50 followed by a dazed cab ride back to the base. In World War II a night here for sailors involved getting "screwed, stewed, and tattooed." But tonight he lusted for sweet sex with an all-American girl.

"Nope," Ben decided. "I'm going to stay here and check things out."

Andy caught him staring at the brunette across the bar and laughed. "Dude, she is so not your type. I thought little Asians wanna-sucky-sucky was more your thing? You know, love 'em and leave 'em in fifteen minutes? That tourist chick won't even give you the time of day. It would take you fifteen minutes just to get close to her. Forget about it, man."

"Yeah, well, I can dream, can't I? Besides, I'm not feeling the downtown, social scene tonight." He ordered a straight up vodka from the bar and downed half in one chug.

"Okay. But if you keep drinking this fast you won't be able to find a cab to get back to base. You sure you want to stay here?"

Ben smiled at the girl across from him who caught his eye again. She bent down to say something to her friend and looked back up at him. His time here on the island was almost up. He knew he would get ship duty overseas when he re-upped on his next tour. It may be his last chance for a night with an American girl for a while.

"Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay, but now I don't have my sacrificial friend with me to offer the street trash that jacks me up on the way out of town."

"That kung fu grip of yours will ward off the trash. Now get outta here. I'll catch you tomorrow."

"Okay, later, brah. Stay clean." Andy gave him the Hawaiian hand salute and made his way out through a throng of Marines, locals, aged women, and hipsters. It all created a blended, steamy smell of sweat, stale beer, and perfume. Andy was Ben's only friend. He accepted his moodiness and didn't ask questions. Ben found out one night on a drinking binge Andy had been orphaned, too, when he was seven. He lived in an orphanage for two years until he was adopted. They didn't talk about their past, but Ben knew it connected them. From what he guessed Andy had a rough time of it, too. He gave a final wave to his friend as he left the bar.

The Johnny Cash wanna-be left the stage in a spattering of applause and a new band set up for the boisterous, late night crowd. Ben finished his drink and ordered another vodka, a double this time. He'd make sure it went down slow. He looked up. A tall man stared at him from across the far end of the bar. It wasn't a passing a glance. He had on a black T-shirt that stretched across his muscular arms and chest. Even in the murky bar light his bright, green eyes glowed eerie in the dim light of the bar. He looked familiar to Ben. He knew he had seen him before but couldn't remember where. The man nodded at him and then disappeared into the crowd, his massive body pushing through the throng of partygoers. Ben shook his head in puzzlement and wished he hadn't. The room spun a bit. His drink was almost gone already. Too soon. He sipped the ice in his glass and debated whether to get another. It suddenly reminded him of his foster father's drinking, his empty beer cans around the house. He didn't want to think about him. He wasn't like him.

After watching Frank go up in flames four years ago, Ben jumped a bus for Florida. He landed in Orlando, and took on cleaning jobs at resort hotels to live. The day he turned eighteen he walked into the U.S. Navy Recruiting office in Orlando and signed up as an enlisted sailor. He yearned for free education, free food, and a regular paycheck. He knew he had no other options to survive. Besides, he was sick of making minimum wage to sleep in a cockroach-infested room stinking from overflowing trash dumpsters outside his window.

After boot camp, he set off for Navy photography school in Pensacola, which got even better. He enjoyed the white, sand beaches across from his barracks and learning the photography trade. After graduating school and arriving in Pearl Harbor, Ben spent his duty processing Top Secret aerial photos of non-allied military locations around the world. The job was okay. He enjoyed more getting out of the photo lab and taking photos of command events and experiencing the beautiful island. And not just the natural beauty. He wanted to experience all Oahu had to offer, and in the way of women. A few times a month he would take a bus or cab to Chinatown and spend his paycheck on good music, drink, and a girl. Sometimes a cheap blow, other times the full deal. Tonight he wanted something else though.

If this brunette was a tourist, her time here was short. Maybe she was looking for a one-night stand with a sailor. He had sampled slews of these tourist girls. If she had a hotel room nearby in Waikiki, even better. They could get rid of her short friend for a bit to have a good time. Ben kept several condoms on him just in case. He had tasty ones too for a good blow job. He wanted to keep clean. God knows you could catch any kind of disease from a Hotel Street hooker or even an all-American girl.

Ben downed the last of his vodka as the buzz around him grew louder. The band rocked with Pink Floyd and Santana songs. He had waited too long to make his move when he looked over to see two buff men talking to the brunette and her friend. He knew immediately they were from the island Marine base at Kaneohe Bay. The brunette frowned and shook her head as her short friend grabbed her arm to pull her away from the bar. The Marines were drunk and leering at them. They must have said something obnoxious to the girls. The hard-core looking Marine leaned on the wall with his arm over the pretty girl's head. He loomed over her, a mass of muscle with a razor-sharp buzz cut and a large tattoo of Daffy Duck on his right arm. The leaner Marine grabbed the arm of the short girl while his muscle friend put his massive hand on the brunette's shoulder. She tried to shrug it off but he gripped her tight.

Ben jumped off his bar stool and leaned into the bar as a wave of dizziness hit him. He knew he was drunk and any move to intervene with these two Marines was stupid. He didn't care. He still had a slim chance of getting rid of the obnoxious grunts, rescuing the girl, and getting some. Or maybe he was looking for a fight. He pushed his way around to the other side of the bar and put a hand on the big Marine's tattoo.

"Hey, jarhead, why don't you leave them alone?"

The Marine tilted his head to frown down at Ben, but kept his hand on the brunette's shoulder. She looked at Ben in relief.

"Yo, squidy, is it? Why don't you go back over there and keep on looking, 'cause you ain't getting any of this."

"Neither are you, jerk off," the brunette yelled, and shoved the Marine away.

The Marine laughed and sneered down at Ben. "I just told her if a fresh, mainland twat came to NoHo she needs to get banged, and real good. And I'm the one to do it. What's wrong with that?"

The brunette pleaded with her eyes for Ben to help them. The music and chatter roared around them. No one noticed them in the corner.

"Yeah, what's wrong with that?" The lean Marine echoed his friend's sentiment with a grin. "Why don't you go back to swabbing the deck, skinny boy? I bet you bend over and give it to the officers good, don't ya?"

A haze of rage hit Ben and he punched the smaller Marine in the mouth. He got another shot in across the grunt's nose when the big Marine lifted him up and carried him out the door, crushing him against the crowd. Ben forgot about the girls as he landed on hard asphalt and staggered up. The street reeled around him as blow upon blow hit him. He had found that fight.

"Fucking squid, who the fuck do you think you are?" The big Marine roared at him, as his fists smashed into his stomach and face. Ben doubled over and fell to his knees. Blood dripped down. He wiped it away as the crowd that gathered to watch spun around him in a blur. The other Marine kicked him in the side and he fell sideways on the street, hugging his waist. From his view the brunette mouthed, "I'm sorry" as she ran off with her friend. The two Marines didn't notice. They were too busy beating the shit out of Ben. _So much for being a hero. Or winning a fight._

"That should teach you Navy fuckers to mess with _Semper Fi_."

"Yeah, _Semper Fi_. Do or die!"

They gave him one last kick as they laughed their way back into Hud's. No one helped him up. This was Chinatown after all. If you weren't dead, you were fine.

Ben stood up slow. His side throbbed and his jaw ached, but the vodka flowing through him numbed much of the pain. Not so bad. He wiped the blood from his face and stumbled down Hotel Street. Out of the corner of his eye the green-eyed man watched him. He had his hands in his pockets and leaned against the window of a cheap gift shop. His black T-shirt and jeans blended into the shadows under the overhang. Ben stumbled on. A vague memory of that man from long ago hung in his head, but it was all jumbled up.

Beat up and with no prospects, he needed to find a 'relaxation parlor' and some company. It didn't take long in Chinatown for him to be approached.

"Howzit, sailor? You hurt? Need some _wahine_ to take care of you?"

Under a yellow sign blinking 'live nude shows,' a pretty Hawaiian girl smiled at him. On the wall behind her rose a giant mural painted rust red of a Vietnamese girl in traditional garb carrying a machine gun. In his fuzzy state, they looked both part of the mural. He wiped his hair back off his face and squinted at the real girl. She had long, brown hair and wore a white tank top over a mini skirt, reminding him of the girl in the bar. He knew he should just forget this night and grab a cab back to base to sleep off the booze. Instead, he walked over to her and smiled back. He could fit a quick blow in before heading home. She stood as tall as him in her low heels. He blinked to remove the double vision of her.

"Maybe...you got a back room nearby?"

"Yeah, yeah, sure thing, sailor buggah. Da cute! Pretty gray eyes, too." She mixed in the local Pidgin dialect with English. "I'll wash your handsome face for free."

She laughed as he touched his face, remembering the blood. He must be a scary sight. She motioned him to follow her and took him down a side alley. Grabbing his hand she pulled him into a dark room, lit by a dangling bulb over a single bed. She pulled a sheet down over the door and pushed him down on the bed. He'd been in dozens of rooms just like this over the past few years. It was better than getting closer to some girl who might screw you over and leave you anyways. That's what all people do, hookers or not. Screw you and leave you. Life now was about taking what he wanted and not giving anything of himself away.

"Kay den, pay up front, honey, if you want the real thing. $50 for ten minutes and a nice slow blow. Or $250 for thirty minutes and the full spread. You're pretty so I'll make it last. I'll go get something to wash your face."

"Just a blow."

Ben pulled the money out of his wallet, and a condom, and fell back on the bed with both in his hand after she left. The room spun. Hud's sure didn't rip you off on watered down drinks. A cool, wet rag moved across his face and he squinted in pain. It smelled like beer and perfume. He opened his eyes and she smiled at him. She had slanted eyes.

"Are you Hawaiian?"

"I'm a mix, honey. Homegrown Hawaiian with a bit of Chinese. It don't matter here, though, eh?"

He shook his head and closed his eyes again, willing the throbbing throughout his body to go away. "Use a condom please," he whispered in a hoarse voice.

The girl grabbed his money and condom and laughed. "Sure thing, sweetheart, since you ask so nice."

The girl put the rag away and got down to business. She was true to her word and made it last. In his vodka-blurred condition he wasn't getting off so quick anyhow. She used her fingers and tongue everywhere. So good. He sat up half-way and cradled her head in the final moment. He pulled on her hair. It came loose in his hands. Was she wearing a wig? He shuddered and moaned as burning fire flowed through him. Then he passed out.

He woke up to someone shaking his arm.

"Come on, sailor boy, get up. You can't pass out here. You've been out another twenty minutes. You owe me another $200 or my man will kill me. He's waiting outside for me. He follows me and knows how long I been in here. He'll think I gave you the full thing. Okay wit dat?"

Ben sat up and blinked. Why did she wait around? Easy money to swindle, he guessed. The girl stood over him. She was so tall. A dull hangover started in the back of his head. She bent down and shook his arm again.

"Come on, you done here. Now pay up and get out. I've got other tricks to find. I'm sorry you beat up, but not my problem." She tapped her foot and waved her hands at him.

Ben stood up and the room tilted. He steadied himself and stared at the girl's hair, now longer on one side. Then he remembered. He pulled at it and her wig came off in his hands. She yelped and grabbed it back. Only she wasn't a she. She was a he. It was clear now. There bobbed his Adam's apple.

"Show me your tits," Ben whispered, enraged.

He had to know for sure. He ripped the prostitute's tank top down on both sides to find a silicone filled bra and a chest as flat as his. He shoved the man away into the wall, who shrieked, clutching at his fake tits and top. Ben shook. He knew he would be sick and lunged for the door.

"My moke come after you! You don't pay me for the extra time!"

Ben turned around and punched him in the face. The transvestite screeched and fell on the bed, holding his face. He was a pretty, young man. A man who had sucked his cock and slid his fingers in his ass. And he paid him to do it. He doubled over and threw up all over the floor, then grabbed the sheet on the door to wipe his mouth and stumbled out.

"You knew! You knew I was _mahu_!" The young man followed him out in the street and yelled at someone. Ben hobbled then mustered the energy to run. He ran in a jerky path down Hotel Street, looking from side to side for a cab to take him back to base, when a kick from behind his knees took him down. He fell on the street and gasped for breath.

A massive local stood over him. He looked Samoan.

"You cheat me, stupid sailor boy? Is dat what you want to do?"

"Yeah, that's him, Koko." The transvestite stood next to his moke. His wig now back on, but askew. He smiled at Ben and put his hands on his hips. He had blood on his face from where Ben hit him. How could he have ever thought this was a pretty woman? Ben stood up in a torpid daze and shook his head. Before he could speak the giant grabbed his shirt and glared at him.

"You see my girl here? You ruin her pretty face so she can't make tricks and I'll kill you. She's my money-making _mahu_. You want a beef with me, boy?"

Ben shook his head again. He couldn't look at the hooker. It made him want to throw up again.

"You pay up now. Price just went up. $300. Or you not getting home any time soon, 'kay den?"

This night was going from bad to worse. Ben tilted his head back and laughed. Dizziness spun through him. People in the street spun around him, too. "I'm not paying extra for some homo to suck my cock. That's false advertising."

He laughed at his own words, even as the first punch came. And the next one and the next one. The Samoan pummeled him until he couldn't see anymore. Blackness consumed him as he curled up in the street. The hooker laughed at him. "You crazy white boy, gonna get it now, real good!"

Then Ben passed out. He woke up curled up in the same fetal position with breezes blowing around him. He was in a car. Why couldn't he see? He struggled and found his arms and legs tied. He put his hands to his face. A rough bag covered it. He screamed and threw himself around the car.

"Yo, _haole_ , keep it down back there," a deep voice called from the front. Two hands shoved him back down on the seat.

"Yeah, sailor buggah. You gonna get really buggered soon," another voice called. It was the Samoan, Koko. Ben kicked his arms and legs trying to get at his captors.

Then a hard punch to his head sent him back to darkness.

# About the Author

**Donna Galanti** is the author of the paranormal suspense _Element Trilogy_ (Imajin Books) and the children's fantasy adventure _Joshua and The Lightning Road_ series (Month9Books). Donna is a contributing editor for International Thriller Writers the Big Thrill magazine and blogs with other middle grade authors at Project Middle Grade Mayhem. She's lived from England as a child, to Hawaii as a U.S. Navy photographer. Donna enjoys teaching at conferences on the writing craft and marketing and also presenting as a guest author at elementary and middle schools. Visit her at www.elementtrilogy.com and www.donnagalanti.com.
