Aftermath (24 page)

Emma's Story

“What the hell was that about?”

Leave it to Hannah to be the first to speak after the uncomfortable incident that caused TJ to pull Lucas outside and for Ben to leave.

“I, ah… I don’t know. One minute Lucas is getting me another drink and the next Ben is telling him I had enough.” Even as the words flowed from my mouth, I found them hard to believe. My hands shook when I reached for the beer Hannah handed me. I was never the center of attention before, and I definitely never had two guys act like that around me.

“Just drink,” Claire said under her breath. She tipped her bottle of hard lemonade into my beer. I took a sip and attempted to return the bright smile on her face, but I couldn’t. After Hannah rejoined the group in the living room and whispers of Ben and Lucas filled their conversation, I asked Claire what was up.

“I have noooo idea. I haven’t seen Ben like this. Ever.”

After a few minutes, everything went back to normal. Someone turned up the music, and Drew handed out shots. TJ and Lucas came back inside, and Molly introduced us to a foreign exchange student, Bianca. She explained where Bianca was from and how long she was staying, but I was too distracted to pay attention.

I couldn’t figure out if Ben liked me, or was just a jerk. While everyone got drunk, I got sober. Not that it was a bad thing. I was suddenly uncomfortable. After a visit to the bathroom and a break on the deck, I joined Claire at the island.

“There you are!” Claire’s smile could light a cavern.

Lucas came up beside me and placed his hand on mine. “Hey, sorry about that,” he whispered over the loud music.

I turned toward him and found our faces inches apart.

I wondered if I was as red as I felt. My heart started to pound in my chest. I knew he would kiss me if I wanted him to. I just didn’t know what I wanted.

“It’s okay,” I said, but it was clear he didn’t hear me.

He leaned closer, his lips nearing mine before he turned his ear toward me.

I caught my breath and repeated the words I whispered earlier. I watched him nod, but he didn’t remove his hand until Drew gave him a beer.

Ben's Story

I awoke on the leather couch in the attic conference room.

My neck was stiff and my head pounded—the disadvantage of being in a human body. I sat up, stretched, and applied pressure to the webbed area between my thumb and forefinger on my left hand. The dull ache at the crown of my head began to vanish. Tilting my head from side to side, then from front to back, relieved the pain in my neck. Though only the physical strain went away.

I still felt the tension I created with my behavior the night before. It was something that replayed in my thoughts over and over again, which was why I crashed on the sofa instead of going to bed.

After leaving the party, I met Jorgenson for a nightcap. Actually, I strolled into Rusty’s Anchor for a drink, and he intervened. It was the first time Pete Jorgenson came to earth in decades.

“The pitfalls of being a handler,” he said when he sat down beside me at the bar. “I go where you lead me.” He ordered tequila from the bartender I previously compelled to serve me since I didn’t bother to use a disguise.

There were only a few people playing pool and a young couple shooting darts when I got there at midnight. The place cleared out by that time, even on weekends. Jorgenson warned me not to go in, not to act like an angry, foolish human. His orders were direct and firm but I shielded myself, blocking out his unwanted thoughts. It was bad enough having Molly’s comments floating in and out, I didn’t want to hear it from him, too. However, blocking him meant I left him no choice but to hunt me down himself or alert the commander that I went rogue.

I was being stupid, and I knew it. Being in human form for extended periods of time tended to warp reality for us immortals. Our emotions heightened and our behaviors mimicked that of the earthly world inhabitants. We got so wrapped up in the human lifestyle that we lost sight of the bigger picture, of our world and our mission. It was why most agents’ contracts were limited in duration.

This was something that never happened to me.

Jorgenson and I drank until closing time. He admitted sending Bianca, despite my dislike for the woman.

“Molly begged the commander not to send her,” he said. “When Commander E asked my opinion, I couldn’t think of anyone better suited than her.” He poured two shots of tequila from the bottle and handed one to me. “And I’m not sorry about it.”

Disgusted, I knocked back the caramel-colored liquid. My human body soaked up the alcohol like a sponge cleaning up a spill. Bianca Beringer was a good agent. No doubt she would be a great agent, someday. I just didn’t want to be the one to help her reach that goal.

“You don’t like her because she scares you,” he said with a chuckle.

His words cut into me like a knife. I tried to shield my thoughts, but the alcohol and anger lessened my powers, and I slipped. He was right. Bianca scared me. She was sharp, witty, and most men found her irresistible.

“I’m not interested in Bianca Beringer,” I told him.

“So you’ve said.”

“I’ve turned down her advances.”

“I know.” Jorgenson poured another round of tequila.

“She just won’t give up,” I said and drank the shot he pushed at me.

“Bianca always gets what she wants.”

“Not this time,” I answered, though we both knew that wasn’t true. Bianca was attractive and determined. If I was being truthful with myself, she was the only woman that turned my head in the eighty-plus years since I lost Elizabeth. Now that I found Elizabeth in Emma, I couldn’t risk losing her again.

Jorgenson was kind after he read my thoughts about Bianca. He suggested I take a few weeks off. “To regroup. You’ve been here a long time. Longer than most agents. You could use a little time off,” he said. Despite how great that sounded, we both knew it wasn’t a good idea. Victor was lurking in Wisconsin and me being the only agent in centuries to have identified his essence, I couldn’t leave. Not now. Not until he was caught.

Victor was suddenly my priority, and Bianca was the best operative to assist me.

***

Commander E’s call ended the pity party my human side celebrated.

“Benjamin,” his strong voice hailed. An image of the dark-skinned man appeared in a hologram over the conference table. “What the fuck are you doing?”

I stood at attention. “I apologize, sir. I got out of hand.”

“You’re damn right. Under no circumstances do you break protocol like you did last night, son. You can’t compel the whole town because you’re pissed off.” Commander E sat at the mahogany desk in his office.

“I understand, sir.”

“And I can’t afford to have Jorgenson flying all over hell to pick up the pieces from your mess! You’re not the only field agent he handles.” He clenched his hand into a fist and pounded on the desk. A crystal golf ball jumped with the impact.

“Yes, sir. I understand. I apologize, sir.”

It wasn’t the first time Commander E admonished me in my years on the job, but it was the only time I saw him this angry. I wasn’t myself. Letting my heart lead me to and around Emma was screwing up my career.

“Your priority has shifted to Victor Nicklas and the gang of hybrids in the Midwest. Another one surfaced this morning outside a nightclub in Chicago. I need you to get your head out of your ass and do your job. If you want to spend time with Elizabeth or Emma, or whatever the hell she calls herself in this life, don’t let it interfere with your priority.”

“Yes, sir. I understand. Thank you,” I answered.

“Benjamin,” he said and leaned forward in his seat, his forefinger firmly pointed in my direction. “If she begins to interrupt your progress on this case, I’ll have her contract cut short.
Do you understand
?”

“Loud and clear, sir.”

Before I finished speaking the words, Commander E shut down the link and his hologram disappeared.

There was no other choice. I had to refocus.

Emma's Story

“I can’t believe Ben told Lucas you had enough to drink last night.”

Hannah’s words still rang in my head, as I drove home the next morning. “I didn’t realize he was so parental,” she said. It was the topic of conversation hours after Ben left the party and again when the girls woke up at the sleepover. I was relieved when Hannah shushed the subject in front of her mom, as she flipped pancakes for breakfast.

No one understood what got into Ben, not even Claire.

***

Aunt Barb was sitting at the dining room table when I walked in a little after nine o’clock. Her hair was up and her glasses were low on her nose. It was a familiar look for a Saturday, I realized. Papers were scattered on the table, alongside plastic bags filled with small parts. I guessed they were screws or bolts for whatever was inside the two large boxes on the living room floor.

“Good morning, honey,” she said. Her tone was always warm and welcoming. “Did you have fun last night?”

“Yeah, it was good. The girls are really nice,” I answered. “What are you working on?”

“Oh, this? It’s a shelving unit for the closet in the laundry room.” Her smile turned down before she continued. “I overestimated my patience with putting it together. Not to mention, I really need two people to install it.”

“I can help you after my soccer game.”

She took a sip of coffee and shook her head. “You’re a darling, but I’ve already called Neal. He’ll come over with Lucas.”

I was silent.

“Lucas is moving back in with Neal,” she said, even though I didn’t ask.

“He’s been living with his mom, right?”

She nodded. “Just since his arrest on the Fourth of July.”

“What was he arrested for?” I asked, innocently.

“Possession of marijuana with the intent to distribute.”

“The case was dropped, right?” I asked.

“Yes. I stayed out of it. I don’t know what loophole the attorney found, but it was enough to get the judge to drop the case. Obviously, Neal was thrilled. No parent wants to see their child in trouble, but it doesn’t look good for an officer to have a son with a criminal record, either.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

Aunt Barb proceeded to tell me the story of how Neal’s wife left him when Lucas was four years old. “Charlene had troubles. They probably shouldn’t have married at all,” she said. “She was in and out of rehab for years and finally, Neal gave her an ultimatum to fix herself or leave.”

“She left them?” I asked, unable to imagine how terrible Lucas must have felt, knowing his mom deserted him.

Aunt Barb nodded. “She went to Vegas. Neal got a couple of postcards, at first. After a while, the cards and letters came back undeliverable. He had no idea where Char was for years. Then one day, she just showed up… a few years ago. She lives in Riverside now.” Aunt Barb took another drink of coffee and glanced at the clock. “You better get ready for your game.”

“Um, yeah,” I said and headed to my room. As bad as things were for me, at least I wasn’t abandoned.

By the time I had my uniform on and was ready for the game, Neal was busy reading the instruction sheet.

“Neal’s invited us for dinner at his house tonight,” Aunt Barb said when I told her I was leaving.

“Okay,” I answered. Not that I had a choice.

“Is that alright with you?” Neal asked. “You don’t have plans or a big date tonight, do you?” I noticed wrinkles near his eyes when he smiled.

I laughed. “No. No plans tonight.” My cheeks got warm.

“Good. Do you like bratwurst and burgers?”

“Yeah, that’s fine.”

Lucas was pretty lucky to have a dad like Neal, I thought, as I drove to the soccer field behind the high school.

Ben's Story

I knocked on the door to the upper flat in Riverside.

A female voice echoed in my head. No other voice or thought came from inside the apartment. I knew Lucas left, but since I was already there, why not meet his mom?

Charlene Tillman opened the door wearing tight jeans, a tank top, and no bra. Dark rings circled like crescents below her bloodshot eyes. I didn’t need to be immortal to know she was hungover.

“Can I help you?” she asked. Her voice was meek and insecure.

“Hi. Yeah, I was looking for Lucas. I’m a friend of his,” I answered, extending my hand. I loved the traditional American greeting.

“Oh. I’m Char… Lucas’ mom.” She shook my hand, and the download began.

“Is he here?”

She let go of my hand as the data received flowed through my mind. Thoughts of her childhood, her love for Neal, and her need for drugs flashed in front of me like a slideshow on high speed.

Pain, embarrassment, and addiction hit my chest. I looked down. I couldn’t meet the eyes of the woman that suffered so much. A cross tattoo rested atop her foot. It was grayed and stretched, not like the crisp image it had once been. It was used and overlooked, like Charlene felt.

“No. No, he left already. He went to some soccer game, I think.”

“A soccer game?” I asked, confused. “We, ah… we don’t have a game today.”

“Ray?” She turned behind her, looked up the empty staircase, and called a second time before facing me again. “Oh, that’s right. He left, too.” She fidgeted with the handle of the door. “I think Lucas said soccer. Umm… girls’ soccer.”

Char’s memories were sorting and organizing in my mind like a computer server filtering files by topic. Childhood, school, and girlfriends flitted by. She was pretty, young, and popular. A cheerleader with lots of friends and a popular football player for a boyfriend.

“Do you know where the game is?” I asked, buying time.

She looked confused and for a second, I felt sorry for her. Years of drug use slowed her thoughts and reactions. Not to mention, it aged her both physically and mentally. She looked a decade older than Neal did, and they were the same age.

“In Westport. Umm… he’s going to his dad’s after that,” she said and shook her head. “You know… he only lived here a few months. Decided he’s going back… to his dad’s.”

I nodded, as more memories from her high school years rolled through my head.

“Got some girl back there, I think.”

“Stephanie Carlson,” I said.

“No. No… I’m sad, too. You knew Stephanie?”

“Yes, I do.”

“Such a sweet girl. So terrible how she died.” Char looked upset, but no thoughts crossed her mind. She hugged the door, resting her cheek against it.

Died?

“I’m sorry, Stephanie didn’t die,” I said.

Her dark eyes rolled up and to the left, focusing on the corner of the porch ceiling behind me. Her lips were taut and emotionless, as if in a trance. She was silent.

Quickly, I propelled myself inside her apartment and looked around. Besides the clutter of unopened mail, newspaper, and dirty dishes in the sink and on the counter and table, there was nothing out of the ordinary. The apartment was empty. Incense burned in a tray near the door at the top of the stairs. Ashes from past burns stacked upon one another, filling the crevice of its bamboo holder.

The apartment had traces of male and female scents. There was one bedroom, with an unmade queen-sized bed and dresser. The living room was long and rectangular with a couch on the opposite wall from an old, box-style big-screen television. The galley kitchen and snack bar hadn’t been cleaned in days. Despite her calling for Ray, there was no male present, nor a scent of anyone beside Lucas.

I returned to my body before Char noticed my frozen stance.

“Mrs. Crandon?” I asked, regaining her attention.

“Call me Char,” she said. “I haven’t been Mrs. Crandon in years.”

“Okay, Char. Stephanie Carlson was at school yesterday. She’s not dead.”
And I should know
, I thought to myself.

She blinked slowly, opening her eyes already affixed in my direction. “Yes, dear. I know. But when she does die, it will be a terrible thing. Now, won’t it?”

Her thoughts whipped through her mind and into mine faster than I could keep up. I reached toward her to touch her hand resting on the door, but only seconds worth of files downloaded before she broke the connection, moving her hand away. I couldn’t make out what she was thinking and with the lost connection, I would never know.

“Do you know if the soccer game is at the high school?” I stalled.

“Why yes, dear. He went to Emma’s soccer game.” Her motherly tone was unexpected.

“Emma’s game?” I asked, prolonging my exit.

“Of course. Why wouldn’t he? After all, Emma’s his girlfriend, you know.” She smiled, though her eyes refocused on the spot behind me.

I shook my head. She didn’t notice.

“If I see him again, who should I say stopped by?” she asked. Images of her courtship with Neal sorted into files in my head. A mixture of love and deceit layered between lust and dishonesty, until I realized she tricked Neal into marrying her.

“Ben Parker,” I answered.

“Ben Parker,” she repeated to herself even after she shut the door, and I heard her count the thirteen steps to return to her apartment above.

Lucas’ mom was messed up. Her memories continued to flow and filter in my mind. They were disorganized and irrational. She took drugs, any and all she could find. From friends and strangers. She was an addict since she was nineteen, about the time that Neal went off to college and she stayed in Westport. Waiting.

When he returned, he didn’t come back to her. He set his eyes on someone else and someone after that. He dated several girls but never called her. She was distraught and unhappy. Her doctor diagnosed depression and prescribed medication she refused to take. She was confused and vulnerable.

Worst of all, she was revengeful.

By the time I reached my truck parked around the corner from her house, I knew more than I wanted to about Charlene Crandon Tillman. Memories of her life filed in chronological order in my mind. The longer I sat there, the more I learned.

Char lived in fear. But why?

I searched for the memory buried deep amongst all the rest. The one underneath layers and layers of useless thoughts and images of trivial things set to camouflage the truth hidden deep below. Like peeling an onion, I removed each membrane one by one, so as not to damage the recollection it held.

When I reached the core, even I had to catch my breath.

I released my shield and shared what I learned with my team.

Suddenly, we were all in danger.