The First Male (30 page)

“All right, let's see what else I can do.” Before Franklin could respond, the old metal grill shook and then shot through the air
as if it was a football that had been kicked through a goalpost. It flew beyond the top of the trees and disappeared. They heard it clank loudly against the forest floor as it thudded to the earth.

Quickly, Franklin moved to Simon's side. “Just gettin' out of the line of fire,” he said, swallowing hard. Now, Franklin emitted a scent that emboldened Simon; the sweet smell of his growing fear swept across the area, fueling Simon's lust for power. Simon looked at him hungrily, his nose greedily inhaling his scent. Franklin's fear made him strong. Power swelled in his veins. He felt dizzy, intoxicated. He took a few steps forward so that he was standing in the center of the circle of trees. From his vantage point, he could see all around him with a simple turn of his head. He saw deep into the forest, far beyond where they stood. He saw a couple of deer standing near a creek and an abandoned vehicle that had been taken over by forest vines. “Fire, there's an idea,” he said, repeating Franklin's words. Simon inhaled several times and looked upward, toward the sky. Suddenly, the tops of all of the trees in the circle burst into roaring flames and all that could be seen was an enormous ring of beautiful fire. The sweet harmony, made by the crackling of the dried branches as the flames consumed them, filled Simon's heart with tremendous pride, as did the ostentatious display of his awesome power. He had never seen anything so spectacular; and, it was all his doing.

“Oh shit!” Franklin exclaimed. “Put it out befo' somebody gets hurt!”

Simon smiled dryly when he looked at Franklin, his eyes completely black. Franklin took a few steps backward. Suddenly, the fire was on the ground, running the circle at the base of the trees, enclosing them. “Don't worry. It won't harm you. I won't let it.” Simon walked closer to the flame. Franklin did not follow. The fire began to move forward, fed by the abundance of dried
leaves and twigs, and began to encroach upon the center of the circle where they stood. The heat of the blaze pushed hard against the duo, with Franklin struggling against the waves, but Simon reveled in its intensity.

“Dude, this ain't funny,” Franklin said, trying to hide the panic in his voice.

Simon cut his eyes at him, as if his words had somehow offended him. He then focused on the flame and spoke, with his arms extended and the palms of his hands pointed toward the wall of fire. “Stand back and behave,” Simon said to the flame. The entire circle of flame moved back in one motion, upon command. The fire burned, but did not consume.

Whispers and hissing sounds could suddenly be heard, as if a thousand snakes suddenly awakened underneath the leaves, which now rustled with life. Simon looked back and saw Franklin with a terrified expression gripped his face.

“Simon, make it stop!”

Instead of diminishing, the flames grew higher and higher, showing no signs of relenting. Simon reached into the fire with his bare hand and rotated his arm. He felt as if he had become a part of the fire and the fire was a part of him; he knew no harm would come to him.

He looked back at Franklin, whose eyes were wide with fear, as his gaze darted between the circle of fire and the rustling of the hissing leaves. Simon turned away and walked through the flames, leaving Franklin trapped.

C
HAPTER
20

“Y
ou sure this the right place?” Franklin asked in a dry voice, looking straight ahead at the black-and-white sign, attached to the red brick building, that read
Hollytree Convalescent Center
. They arrived in Houma as darkness robbed the sky of all light, draping the world in an eerie gloom that was void of even a sliver of moonlight. The darkness seemed to spread out endlessly in all directions, cutting the center off from life itself. Franklin noticed that the center's lawn was in a state of disarray, much like a battlefield after a midnight melee. A fallen tree lay horizontally across the lawn, and a few benches and trashcans were tossed carelessly on their sides. Clearly, a storm had ripped through the area, but they had business more pressing than a passing storm.

The drive back to Louisiana from Texas had been even quieter than the drive to the Lone Star State. The return trip was filled with so much that simply couldn't be summed up in words. Simon didn't know how to fully articulate his fear that the evil growing within him had metastasized; he harbored tremendous dread that he'd soon lose the man that he was and that the Simon everyone knew would be cannibalized by the Simon he was sure to become. So, for most of the trip, he sat in the passenger's side of the car and barely moved. Not only were his thoughts heavy, but the unleashing of his power in the forest had drained him,
leaving him weak and wobbly; too tired to speak, even if he wanted to. It had been too much for him to endure. Even now, he wasn't fully recovered.

Simon let out a hot puff of air. “Yeah, I'm sure.” Simon didn't move, not even an inch; he didn't even blink.

“You know you hafta to go in,” Franklin said, thinly veiling the urgency that colored his voice.

“I know.” The weight of what lay inside felt like heavy stones on his shoulders, forcing them into a downward slump. Inside were answers to questions he no longer wanted to ask and the weight of his worry could be measured in pounds. “She's in there—Adelaide.” She might be his grandmother, but Simon knew nothing else of her, except this extraordinary connection they shared. Maybe she was locked away in this place for a good reason, hidden from the world by a higher power. Maybe she was the ultimate evil, lying in wait for him for some wicked purpose. Or, maybe she was his savior, his light. He simply couldn't be sure.

“What you waitin' fo'?”

“I don't know.”

“You scared?”

“Terrified.” When Simon awoke in Franklin's car after their visit to the forest, he felt more than weak; he felt cut-off from everything, including the world and his feelings. He was like a container whose contents had been emptied; he didn't feel fear or curiosity or remorse or any emotion. He simply felt empty. Now, he felt terror. Tangible fear.

Franklin shifted in his seat. Out of his periphery, Simon could see his friend's head turn in his direction. “You scared me, man. I thought I was gonna die. I thought you was gonna let me burn.” Franklin's voice was thick, heavy with unspoken emotion. “You like my brother and I thought you were gonna kill me. If there's
a chance this woman can help you figure this shit out, you hafta go for it.” Simon turned his head toward Franklin and met his gaze; Franklin then looked down at his nervous hands. “I'm terrified, too.”

“I told you no harm would come to you. I don't care what happens.” Simon grabbed one of Franklin's hands. “Look at me. I will protect you with my life, if necessary. You gotta know that. You're about the only family I have.” Even before the words fully passed his lips, Simon had begun to doubt them. Until he learned to control the darkness in his heart, he knew that he wasn't in any position to make promises, regardless of how sweet the lie sounded. When the fire had raged in the forest, more than a few minutes passed before he even thought of saving Franklin. In fact, had it not been for the memories of their friendship that suddenly entered Simon's head, Franklin would have been burned beyond recognition by now; his body, nothing more than a pile of ashes carried away by the wind. In order to hold on to himself, Simon had to hold onto Clara's words when she told him to “remember love.” In those moments, when his powers raged in the firestorm, he barely remembered love; it was a fading feeling, a flicker, no more than a small candle deep inside a vast cavern.

“Will you go in with me? I'm still a little weak.”

“I got you, man.” Simon opened his car door and struggled to pull himself out of the vehicle. His feet were heavy, like stone, and his stomach remained unsettled. The cold night air bit into his skin, and snowflakes fell from the sky, suddenly. Snow in Louisiana was an anomaly, and this storm appeared out of nowhere. Simon knew its cause; it was him, and moreover he knew this was the beginning of more odd occurrences. A deep sense of melancholy drifted down on him, like the snowflakes that fell in soft clumps. He moved slowly in front of the car, which was parked directly
in front of the building, and leaned his hip against the grill. From his vantage point, the building seemed enormous; its brick walls expanding half a city block. It was a formidable structure, full of sharp angles and intimidating lines.

Simon heard the door close and Franklin shuffle his feet across the asphalt parking lot toward him. Franklin moved to his side and they leaned together against the car in silence, watching the snow fall.

“What if she can't help me?” Simon inquired after a few elongated seconds. His voice carried his concern deep into the empty night.

Franklin paused. “Then God help us all.”

Simon pried himself from the hood of the car, stood tall against the sharp wind, and then moved laboriously forward to his future, with a prayer in his heart.

Addie wiggled her fingers and toes as she sat in a stiff, upright position in the recliner in her room, a tell-tale sign that her binding spell was weakening and that she was becoming stronger in these final hours; strong enough to possibly break the spell that kept her crippled. At this point, she could even move her neck from side-to-side, if only slightly. If her spell broke completely, the power she had used over the years to keep it in place would return to her in full measure, albeit slowly. Even though her strength was returning, she was still afraid to use her power on herself; instead, she chose to strengthen her binding spell. Her efforts may ultimately prove futile, but it was all she knew to do.

Over the last couple of days, her connection to Simon had been severed and she had tried desperately to reconnect; her efforts were in vain. When she had tried to reach him all she saw was a
vast, all-encompassing darkness and a deafening silence. She feared the worst. Maybe he had given in completely to the darkness. Maybe she was already too late.

Inside her room, everything was quiet—too quiet—even the television was silent. Outside her door she heard occasional voices from the staff going on about last night's storm and talking about the minutia that filled their days, living in ignorant bliss of things yet to come. They were concerned about silly things such as car payments, taking their children to soccer practice, the latest celebrity gossip, or the newest high-tech gadget they wanted to buy when they got paid, when all around them there were signs of the coming apocalypse; raging wildfires, seismic shifts in the earth, violent storms—such as the one that sprang up suddenly last night. By comparison, their concerns were silly, but they had the luxury of not knowing what Addie knew. Indeed, ignorance is bliss.

The unexpected storm that tore through the state the night before was widespread and fierce. Its violent winds toppled trees, ripped roofs from buildings, and tore houses from their foundations. The rain, which came down in sheets as thick as blankets, flooded the streets and forced residents to recall memories of recent storms. Weather forecasters, caught off guard by the sudden storm, were left dumbfounded by its raw force, blaming it on an unusual weather pattern in the atmosphere.

Addie knew better. Whatever had caused the storm certainly wasn't natural. Deep in the clutches of night she heard a wretched scream that shook the sky so ferociously that she thought it would tumble and fall. Seconds later, the heavens split open and rain fell with torrential force, hammering the earth with heavy drops. No, this storm wasn't natural at all; it was birthed by an unholy force. She felt it.

And now it was snowing; hardly a natural effect.

Addie had felt something else last night—pain. Somewhere, in a place hidden far from view, the shadows cried. Addie wondered what could have happened to cause such agony, especially when they were perilously close to the Ascension. If they were in pain, then maybe, just maybe, she could still undo her mistakes from so long ago, but time was running out. For everyone.