Chapter 7
“What were you thinking?” Sam scolded, his face darkening to the shade of a beet. He’d grilled me all the way home until I’d spilled all the ugly details of the encounter.
I had no real defense. I’d been feeding the need that boiled inside me like a pot of stew waiting to bubble over. “I’m sorry.” I hung my head, feeling miserable. “It wasn’t my fault that Bo attacked a wild boar.” I could have said I killed it to protect the injured wolf, but we both knew that wasn’t true. My actions had served no purpose, other than to satisfy a hunger in me, while Bo had nearly bled out. Lily was still at the cottage working on him. She’d stay the night with him to see if she could pull him through. If he was too far gone, even Lily wouldn’t be able to save him.
“You’ve got to be more responsible, Zeph. I know this…this…ability you have is hard to deal with. I can’t even imagine what you’re going through, but you have to learn not to give into it.” Sam leaned back on the counter, his arms tight across his chest, his jaw set hard. “If you can’t control it, I’ll have no choice but to…to confine you.”
I raised my head. “You want to lock me up? What are you going to do, put me in shackles, keep me chained in the basement?” Heat crept along my skin and I felt the power surge again as my voice rose. It spiked when I saw fear in Sam’s eyes. He knew as well as I did that it was too late to try to lock me away. I’d proven more than once that not only did I have a knack for devising the most effective of traps, but I could escape from nearly anywhere.
“No. I’m not suggesting locking you up, but I want you to stick close to home. Maybe you and I can hunt together more often. That might help you control these…urges.”
I shot out of the chair, ready to escalate the confrontation, but I held back, if only to prove to myself that I still could. “This isn’t something that a little uncle/nephew bonding is going to take care of, Sam.” I shook the dark curls out of my eyes. “I can control my abilities. The problem is that I don’t want to anymore.”
As I said the words and saw the shock on Sam’s face, I regretted the confession that had escaped my lips. I turned and set my knuckles on the table, almost at eye-level with Sam, and released a long, slow breath. The burning itch under my skin receded. I sat down, folded my hands on the table in front of me, and met Sam’s gaze.
“I see that you can control your temper. That’s a start. But what happens when someone else’s life is at stake, Zeph. Will you choose to give in to your dark side again rather than saving a life?”
I hated that he called it my dark side, but I supposed that was what it was. And that was the question. How selfish was I? How power hungry and ruthless would I become? My face fell into my hands. “Maybe I should just leave,” I said.
“I don’t want you to leave. I want you to grow up and take responsibility for yourself and your actions. Do you understand? We can’t afford for you to go off on a rampage and have the townspeople spreading any more rumors. Do you want to lead the Industry straight to our door? Because that’s what’s going to happen if you don’t cool it.”
I shook my head, unable to help the small smile that curved my lip. I mean, who says ‘cool it’ anymore? “Okay. You’re right, Sam. I’ll try harder. Can I go to my room now?”
He nodded, and I made a quick exit for the stairs, hoping to escape any further lecturing about what a loser I was.
“Zeph,” he said. My shoulders stiffened, but I turned back. “You have a responsibility to this family. If we’re to survive, we need to stick together and help each other.” His brown eyes filled with emotion. “Lily is going to need you if I’m not around. I’m counting on you to protect her.”
“I know. I will. I’ll do whatever needs to be done.” I turned my back and escaped to my room, the burden of an uncertain future weighing heavily on my shoulders.
I couldn’t sleep worth a damn, so I got out of bed long before the sun hit the horizon. I snuck out of the house and headed for the one place I felt I could leave my troubles behind and burn off the extra energy that still had my bones humming. My feet hit the trail and I ran like the wind in the shadows of predawn light. I didn’t worry about hitting a tree or running into some wild animal that might consider having me for breakfast. Negotiating my way through the dark forest had become second nature, and the animals seemed to sense that I was not prey, but a predator. I ran until I came to the pond.
Soft purple light shimmered across the water, casting long shadows from surrounding trees. The air vibrated with the echoes of insects and bullfrogs. I looked across the pond, wishing I knew the answers to all the questions that rumbled in my head like thunder. I wasn’t even sure if I was asking the right questions any more. I tugged my shirt off, dropped my pants, and then sloshed into the water, sucking in a breath as the bracing cold seeped into my muscles. I dove under, coming up a dozen yards out.
The ice-cold water cleared my head and I took long strokes toward the other side. More a lake than a pond, the expansive body of water was out in the middle of nowhere, my own private world where I could get lost in the peace of being alone—no one to judge or criticize me or my behavior. The tension slipped away as I found a steady, even breath to match the rhythm of each stroke. I could make it to the other side and barely be out of breath, but I took my time, losing myself in the deep. At the center of the pond, the water was colder, but not cold enough to shake the heat that coursed through my veins. I dove down, never hoping to reach the bottom but unable to stop myself from trying. I swam downwards until my ears felt ready to explode, then I shot to the surface, taking in great gulps of air. Dive—repeat. Each time, the sky grew brighter above me.
Finally, when my head began to cool, I floated on my back, opened my eyes, and watched the stars fade into the grape sky. Why had God made me this way? If there was a God, he couldn’t be this cruel—to give me this powerful ability and then expect me not to use it. Blaming my mother had done no good. She’d been a victim as much as I was—even more so, because her intentions were totally noble. It was the Industry that took something good and turned it into…me. I rolled onto my stomach and paddled hard through the water, trying to escape the word “evil” that followed me like a great white shark intent on consuming me.
Dr. Vincent Bartholomew was the researcher who took over the experiments from my mother, casting her aside and then using her as a guinea pig under the guise of “serving humanity.” He was the man that needed to be held accountable.
As hard as I kicked, I couldn’t shake the rage that flowed through me at the injustice of life. While I’d set out to burn off the fire in my body, what I’d accomplished was refining my laser focus on one thought. As my arms pumped through the water, propelling me faster and faster, the sun broke the horizon, heralding another relentlessly hot day. And all I could think about was that someone had to pay.