ARC: Cracked (28 page)

He continues. “She wanted to see what would happen if there was a child. She always had an interest in science, you see.” As if I don’t know my own mother. “The old scientific debate of nature over nurture put to the test. Her hypothesis: A child of both Templar and demon could be raised to be good, but with the powers of a demon – the ultimate weapon in the battle of good versus evil.”

He looks at me and I realize I’m shaking my head. I’m not a science experiment. Mom loved me.

“Don’t believe me?” Again he looks sad, like he’s actually sorry to break my heart. “When that building collapsed we sent people to investigate. They found a library of these.” He waves his hand and a woman’s face pops up on the screen.

“April fourth, 1999,” she begins in a crisp professional tone. “Subject is four years and eleven months old. Height 112 cm, the seventy-fifth percentile, weight eighteen kilograms, fiftieth percentile. Advanced coordination, but no physical manifestation of demon or Templar heritage.” She continues with a rundown of diet and sleep habits, a breakdown of daily activities. Then she takes a deep breath and continues:

“There has been a setback in socialization. Risk to innocents has caused me to end it early. After four days in preschool, subject has shown an unusual amount of aggression towards another student…”

The face is my mother’s. The subject is me. I shake my head. I don’t want to believe it. This isn’t a home video of a beloved child. This is a record of an experiment.

My father speeds ahead to another clip.

“Subject responds favorably to affectionate touching, but does not return hugs nor initiate any on her own. Will increase efforts and see if she can be trained to demonstrate human affection.” I watch her mouth move, making familiar shapes. This is the mom I remember, not the laughing girl from the Templars’ shrine. But at the same time, she’s not what I remember at all.

Fast forward again.

“August seventeenth, 2003. Subject is eight years and three months old.” Again there is the rundown of tedium. Then tension enters her eyes. “Subject demonstrates superhuman strength, beyond that even of a Templar. She lifted twelve repetitions of thirty-six kilograms. Subject also ran one kilometer in two minutes and twenty-seven seconds.” Slight hesitation. “Faster than the women’s international record.

“Subject’s skin has taken on a metallic density; however, nails and hair are still human. She has a voracious hunger and I have increased her diet again, to a total of 2,200 calories a day. I am beginning to fear she may have a demon’s appetite.” She bites her lip. “The neighbor’s dog disappeared a week ago accompanied by a sudden drop in the subject’s appetite.”

I ate him. He wasn’t the first, but the first time I’d gotten caught.

He speeds forward again and I close my eyes. I don’t want to see any more, but I can still hear.

“June fourteenth, 2004. Subject is nine years and one month old…”

“Stop it,” I say.

“Height 141 cm, ninetieth percentile. Weight twenty-eight kilograms, fiftieth percentile. Caloric intake 2,600. Subject was introduced to a neighborhood cat…”

“Stop it!”

The recording stops, but my thoughts don’t.

For a half-second I think it is some demon’s trick, that they made it up. I cling desperately but it dissolves under the weight of reality. All the facts she listed were true. They couldn’t manufacture such specifics.

Here I thought she was some rape victim who loved me so much she overcame the disgust. But that wasn’t it at all. Not even close. I was a project, a weapon for the Templars. Hadn’t I seen what they were willing to do, willing to sacrifice to win? Nothing matters as much as defeating the demons. Not even their own children; they are raised to be cannon fodder.

Pain lashes and stabs. My humanity is shredded. I was not her baby. I was her lab rat. None of it was real.

Subject does not respond to affectionate touching… will increase attempts to see if she can be trained…

My eyes snap open. It’s not the lab rat’s fault if the scientist’s careless and gets bitten. The guilt-ridden ties that kept me chained to my mother unravel like rotten, rat-chewed rope. I am cast adrift on the violent sea of my rage, storm-tossed.

For the first time I am free.

Half evil, half human.
But humans aren’t exactly good, are they?
Armand asked.

No, they aren’t. I inherited monstrousness from both sides of my family tree. It is time to embrace it.

I arch my back, open my arms wide and screech at the ceiling. Screech, because something has to give, I don’t have the control to stand there stoic and bear it.

The seething crowd screeches its delight back, bubbling with excitement. They want this, maybe more than I do. For me it is an escape from the pain. For them it is a future opened. They have been waiting to see which team the star player will choose.

I spin and swirl as they stomp and scream. I am flooded with hate, with rage. They are the soundtrack to my own vileness. I am not my mother’s naughty child, I am Daddy’s little girl. A princess of Hell.

“Now you see, Meda,” Father says, his eyes alight. He’s as excited as everyone else. “It was all a lie. Be as you are meant to be.” He waves at someone and four demons drag some blindfolded humans from the tunnel behind me. I smell them before I see them. Smell their essence, their souls. Because I am denying myself nothing any more. I am a demon and I am Hungry.

The humans struggle and scream, and their fear scents the air. Their hate gives it a delicious, cinnamony edge. I will bathe in their screams and paint the walls with their blood. I hope my mother is watching. I hope she knows how horrifically her experiment failed.

The crowd chants. “Meda, Meda!” The pain, the excitement, the soon-to-happen action is what they crave. The bloodlust is taking over and already sensual creatures are slithering and sliding in near-sexual anticipation, a pool of writhing eels. I crouch and slither and scuttle. My dear daddy chortles in delight and raises his hands to incite the crowd to a fever pitch.

Two obsidian tiles rise slowly to become posts in the center of the room. The humans are chained to them, center stage, a mere dozen paces from where I stand. Their escorts step back a couple of paces, leaving a clear path between me and the humans.

My father lifts his hands and the room falls silent, but the frenetic energy is still palpable. Our audience is tense, each demon perches on the edge of their chair. I look at their faces, fanged and excited. A mirror, a thousand times, of my own.

“Meda – a gift, and a sign of your fealty!” Father says. The humans.

Oh, Daddy, I would be delighted
. I prance over. The humans fight their chains, jerking as hard as they can. They shake their blindfolds free. Good. Now we can all see.

Something beats against the crazy rage of my mind, gentle butterfly wings pound as hard as they can to get in. But I have no interest in butterflies.

I run my claw – and it is a claw, though it might look like a weak, human hand – along the jaw of the human female, drinking her fear and meeting her eyes.

Then the butterfly’s wings bang, and I know what the pretty creature is trying to make me realize.

I know those eyes. They’re Jo’s.

A wave rolls in, dousing the fire. I’m left trembling and cold.

“Meda, what’s happening?” Jo, panicked, twists and the scent of her fear washes over me, almost firing me back up. I have to force myself to step away. “Meda?”

“Meda? What’s the matter, dear?” It’s my father. The crowd hisses and boos, but he silences them with a wave. I take another careful, controlled step away from Jo. The animalistic part of me, the part that thought it was finally free, fights caging. “Meda?”

“Meda?” Chi.

“Meda?” Jo.

They all want answers. Father thought I was won. Jo and Chi don’t understand what’s happening. They want answers, but I don’t have any. I’m a reeling wreck. I meet Jo’s tear-red eyes, then Chi’s disillusioned ones. I don’t have the words.

“Meda.” My father now, commanding in tone. Going to tell me to eat my vegetables? “This is how you prove yourself,” he says.

I never took well to being told what to do.

“My friends.” My tongue is heavy, my voice is thick.

“No, Meda, they aren’t.” Back to the calming, loving father. The one that just wants the best for his little girl.

“Yes, we are, you evil, stinking–” A demon silences Jo. Painfully.

“No, Meda, they aren’t. They don’t even know you, don’t know what you are, how can they be your friends?”

“Yes, we do.” Chi, bold and heroic, if a little shaky. “Meda, I don’t know what’s going on here, but–”

“Shall we tell them what’s going on, Meda?” Daddy asks. The crowd roars its approval. He waves again and the screen flickers back to life. It’s my mother and I recognize the room behind her.

No
.

I lock my knees because I have no doubt I will collapse if I don’t.

No!
But my mouth opens and closes silently.

“May fifteenth, 2009. Subject is fourteen years and eleven months old.”

I scream and dive forward trying to stop what is about to happen. I can’t watch it, I can’t bear it. I’m hauled back by demons I didn’t even know were behind me. A pair of Chi and Jo’s escorts are now restraining me.

“Meda, what’s happening?” Jo’s voice trembles.

I don’t answer. I can’t answer. The face on the screen continues to talk, giving the details of the half-Templar, half-demon’s abilities.

“You need to see this. You need to remember what you are,” my father says.

“I’m half human,” I say numbly. I try to make that matter.

“Half… Meda.” Chi still doesn’t get it. “Templars are human.”

Jo is starting to. Her voice is edged in panic. “Meda, who is that?”

She already knows, but I answer anyway. “My mom.” I don’t watch her face as the ramifications hit. I don’t want to.

My father’s voice cuts in, calm and soothing. “You’re not one of them, but I think you know that.” I look away from the screen. We’re not to the good part yet, anyway. My father’s eyes are full of understanding. “It might be fun to play that way. We’ve all had our human moments. But they aren’t real. They aren’t permanent.”

“I’m half human.” I say it again.

“I’m not talking about your lineage. I am talking about a person’s soul, some are just… dark, Meda. Most of the demons here were full humans.” He waves to the crowd and there’s a murmur of agreement. “But their souls have always belonged below. Because they are capable of truly horrific things. They’re not wrong, Meda, the things you’ve done, the things you want. They are quite normal. Here.”

Jo’s screaming and Chi’s shouting. Their two guards silence them so we can all watch the home movie.

My mom continues, her tone crisp and professional. “The subject has been interested in interacting with other humans. She is… lonely, I think.” She pauses for a half-beat, her eyes downcast, but then the scientist is back. She clears her throat. “A commendably human emotion. I have hope that we can conquer her darker side, that she can be permitted to interact with others her age. She was too young before. Children don’t have that kind of control, but at this age the subject should be old enough to…” My father fast-forwards.

“The subject hasn’t had access to her secondary food source in over five weeks, but I can’t delay her much longer without restraints…” Again my father fast-forwards. Apparently that’s not what he’s looking for. In speed-motion, my mother brings a younger me on to the screen. Jo starts thrashing, all her questions conclusively answered. I was younger then, plumper, with long shiny hair, but it’s me.

My mother’s talking to me, but he doesn’t play that for us. He doesn’t need to in my case, I remember. “We’re going to beat this thing. Meda, you can do it. Just get past it.” And other encouraging nonsense. Like my evilness is a cigarette addiction and I’m the Little Engine That Could. I try to fight her and go for the door. She holds me and pleads with me and I struggle. Then I give in. I always gave in to anything she asked. She was my world.

My father explains. “We’re going to watch this in fast forward, as it takes quite some time.”

Three days. It took three days. After two, I begged her to chain me to the wall so I didn’t rip her to shreds. She gave in and did so. We watch it.

But in the end, the chains couldn’t stop me.

Someone is screaming and begging for it to stop. The pain in my throat says it’s me. I beg him not to make me watch.

In the video, I thrash against my restraints, and it could be a mirror because I’m thrashing against the restraining arms now, too.

“Please!” I scream.

I ripped the chains from the wall. I dove at my cowering mother.

My father pauses. If only I could have paused it in real life and just been suspended there, in mid-air, with her forever.

“Fine, Meda. But tell us what happens. Tell your friends what you did.” Anything. Anything to make it stop. There’s no reason not to.

“I killed her,” I whisper. Dead.

“How?” he asks.

“I ripped her to pieces.”

I hear Jo keening below the muzzling hand. I hear her chains rattle as she fights her restraints.

“Meda,” my father whispers. He’s a breath away from me. I stare into those demon-dark eyes. “You belong here. Don’t you see?”

“I see.”

“Your mother didn’t love you. Let go of the guilt, embrace what you are.”

“I am a demon.”

“And your friends…” He trails off and we both turn to Chi and Jo. The demons release them and Chi starts talking instantly, unfazed by what he just saw.

“Meda, don’t listen to them. You’re not one of them. You’re good–” Chi, foolish Chi. My father jerks his head and Chi is muzzled again, gagged with a cloth. Daddy doesn’t want me to hear Chi’s encouragement, as if it might sway me. He needn’t worry. Chi’s faith means nothing, because it has nothing to do with me. Chi’s faith is blind. He doesn’t see me. But Jo does.

Jo always has.

I meet her eyes. They burn with hazel-colored hate. Her voice is controlled and I see why – she has one tiny drop of hope left. Still she doesn’t meet my eyes as she asks, they turn to the floor. “You knew all along?”