Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) (5 page)

He pulled out a tiny jar of honey, about the size of a baby food jar, and held it out to me. "Some of my own raw honey. It will be better if you eat honey from flowers in your area, but it will be weeks before my bees have collected enough to harvest."

I took the jar and tilted it toward the light. A piece of honeycomb swirled in the gold, surrounded by tiny bubbles. Yellow sugar had collected at the bottom. "It's pretty."

"Honey is a healing food," he said as he gently closed the chest. "It contains many trace minerals and silica that are of enormous benefit to the immune system."

I'd been sick so long. My hopes rose. "Do you think this will help me get well?"

"Yes." He said it with a certainty no doctor had ever used.

Even if all it did was ease the nausea and let me eat food, it was worth it. I tucked it securely into my coat pocket. "Do you mind if I go now? I want to taste it right away."

He nodded. "Be my guest."

As I called Suki to the cart and drove away, I gripped the honey jar. Mal had given me a gift, even after I'd unwittingly tried to break into his private property. Dangerous ex-convict or not, there was something kind about him. A softening in his voice as he addressed the bees.

Whatever was in that box affected him deeply. The only person I'd ever seen look like that was my brother, when his kid fell in the canal and we almost couldn't fish him out.

My logical mind assured me that people who climbed onto roofs at night couldn't be trusted.

But darn it, I wanted to like him. Especially if this honey helped me feel better.

After Libby departed, I went in search of my brother. I needed to speak with him and discover what he was up to.

I drove my camper around Arvin with the windows rolled down. Many odors struck my nose, but none were the particular reek of Robert Seren. Arvin did not impress me--suburbs built in the 60s and 70s, little shopping districts, a park here and there. Just another little town in the San Joaquin valley, surrounded for miles by farmland, with the shoulders of the Sierra Nevadas looming over it.

It might have been picturesque had not the air pollution and lingering fog blanketed everything in dismal gray.

I spotted a yellow hummer with a broken side window parked outside a red brick high school. I trundled the motor home into a far corner of the parking lot. Then I set off on foot, with my hands buried in my windbreaker's pockets. One might almost mistake me for a student, if one did not look too closely at my eyes.

It was noon recess, and the teenagers clustered in groups, talking, snacking, or in some cases, studying. It was not difficult to locate Robert. He had surrounded himself with girls.

I loitered outside the fence and pulled my hood up. Robert was twenty feet from the fence--too far away for me to hear him. But his mouth moved, and the females hung on his every word. An attractive bunch, all with similar-length hair with similar styles, and tight-fitting blouses to show off newly-acquired feminine figures. I admired them, myself, in the distant, logical way of an art critic.

Robert took a girl's hand and lifted it to his lips. She jumped as if stung by a wasp, then laughed.

I gripped the fence with one hand, and my fingers curled until the wire bent out of shape.

It must have made a sound, because Robert looked up. His smile twisted into a sneer. He spoke to the girls, then stepped between them and strode toward me. "Hello, Mal."

"Hello, Robert." I kept my voice low, and he had to move close to the fence to hear me. "You are overfeeding."

He tilted his head back and laughed. "That's rich! You hunted me down to lecture me on my diet?"

I waved a hand at the waiting girls. "What happened to choosing targets? Has the Necromancer grown so careless that he forgets to monitor you?"

He folded his arms, and his stance turned defensive. "The Necromancer lets me do what I want, as long as I don't cause trouble. Same as you."

For an instant, I saw my brother as the child he had been, defying me to tell on him after he had ridden his bicycle into the lake and lost it. He had been my friend, my little shadow. We built forts, explored the woods, and rode our bikes for miles through the Pennsylvania woodland.

And now here we stood, monsters, struggling to make our way in a world oblivious to our hunger. No wonder God himself had abandoned me.

Until yesterday.

I struggled to keep my voice even. "You must not spread the infection this way. Look at what you've done to Libby."

He glanced over his shoulder at his waiting victims, then bared his white teeth. "Don't tell me how to live my life, Malevolent. Pull your claws on me, push me around, fine, whatever. You try to take Libby from me, I'll make you pay." He spun on his heel and stalked back to his entourage.

Fury shook my limbs. Rather than tear through the fence and follow, I stormed away with my fists in my coat pockets. Heat warmed my face and my heart pumped death power into my blood, drawing in the life of the grass underfoot, nearby bushes, anything alive.

No! Not this. I breathed deeply until the power draw waned. By the time I had mastered myself, I had circled the entire school property twice. Tomorrow there would be a trail of dead grass as if someone had poured bleach everywhere.

Robert must have fed upon Libby for a long time for her illness to be so extreme. Usually the vampiric corruption manifested as an itchy throat, a cough, perhaps, and a feeling of malaise that came and went. Not debilitating illness that confined the victim to bed.

The worst of the infection would not manifest until the Necromancer raised his hand to summon their souls.

Libby had once looked like these girls--healthy, pretty, and vivacious. But now hollows ringed her eyes, and her choices in clothing reflected her state of being: loose, formless things that one could wear during sleep. Yet her spirit burned on, unbroken.

Judgment, and mercy; God had only required that I save one life, not all.

I returned to the motor home, panting a little, with sweat cooling my back. My anger hardened into choice: to wrench a single life from the edge of undeath.

I rested my forehead on the steering wheel. What did Libby see when she looked at me? A terrifying man who had tried to break into her room? She no doubt sensed my true nature, for she often looked at me as if searching out my secrets. Doubtless her father had told her of my time in prison.

She had every right to be wary of me. I despise what I have become, despite my efforts to delay the inevitable. The Marchers rightfully imprisoned me, after I had broken through one of their barriers to steal valuable property.

But I had not specified to Libby's father what sort of prison it had been.

I ate honeycomb for dinner. I wish I could say I ate it on bread, but no. I sat at the table with the jar and a spoon, and ate every drop.

To her credit, Mom tried. "Are you sure you wouldn't like a piece of toast?"

"No thanks," I said through a delicious sticky mouthful of honey and wax. "No wonder Winnie the Pooh eats honey all the time."

Something about the golden flavor fed a craving I didn't know I had. I finished the honeycomb and licked honey off my spoon. It was sticky and wholesome and a little grainy, where it had turned to sugar. Glorious warmth filled my stomach.

Mom retrieved my medication from the fridge, and I gulped the pills with milk. Then I went upstairs to bed, because the meds usually made me sleepy.

Not tonight. I detoured to the computer and spent three hours scoring head shots with Tiffany in an online shooter. Other players texted me swears and death threats. It was wonderful.

"You seem different tonight," Tiffany messaged me. "Look at that score!"

"I feel better," I wrote back. "I had honey for dinner."

She replied, "LOL sugar."

When I finally went to bed, I slept deep and hard. When I woke at dim, foggy sunrise, it took a while to pry my eyes open. But when I finally crawled out from under the blankets, my strength had returned. I had the energy to take a shower and even put on makeup. My stomach growled--food sounded good again! I was well!

What in the world had been in that honey?

When Mom asked what I wanted for breakfast, I opened the fridge and began pulling out omelet ingredients.

She watched me with her mouth open.

"Seriously Mom, I think I'm well. I'm starving, and I haven't been hungry in ages." I broke three eggs into a measuring cup and threw in some frozen hash browns and mushrooms.

Mom watched me warily. "You may not be able to keep it down."

"Oh, it'll stay down." I beat the potatoes, mushrooms and eggs together into a runny mess, then poured it into a skillet and turned on the burner.

Ten minutes later I wolfed down my omelet, and it was the best thing I'd tasted in months, aside from the honey. Now I wished I'd saved some for toast, because toast with butter and honey is one of the finest things in life. So were those eggs--fluffy, savory, and perfect with a spoonful of salsa.

I had to ask Malachi about his awesome honey. He took special care of his bees, but would that make honey of such superior quality? I mean, I was
well
. I'd been sick for ages,and the medication had done next to nothing. How could a tiny amount of honey affect me like this?

"Can I have that honey jar?" I asked as I loaded my dishes into the dishwasher. "I want to return it."

Mom's face crinkled in worry. "Your father told you to stay away from that Malachi character."

"I'm just returning a jar, Mom. And I want to ask him what's in that honey. Maybe I can get more."

Mom's face softened. This was the first time I'd improved, after all. "All right. Take your cellphone. If anything happens..."

"I'll be fine, Mom. If it makes you feel any better ..." I whipped out my knife and flipped open the gleaming blade in one smooth motion. "It's not a stake, but I don't think vampires would want to be stuck with this, either."

Mom eyed the knife and sighed. "All right. Just be careful."

Outdoors it was warm and moist, and the almond blossoms filled the air with scent. They weren't even fully budded out yet. I felt so good, I decided to walk to the bee station. I used to run all over the farm when I was well, and almond trees are fun to climb.

I let Suki out of the yard and stuffed her leash in my coat pocket. She ran into the orchard ahead of me, barking and sniffing the tree trunks. Then she ran back, grinning, with white petals stuck in her black coat. I scratched her ears and thumped her sides. She jumped around me for sheer joy, as if she sensed how much better I felt. I growled at her and got her riled up, then laughed as she sprinted in circles around me with her tongue out.

I'd forgotten what it was like to live.

The bee station was deserted, and a lot of the other hives had been moved deeper into the orchard, but the air was full of bees. I walked by Mal's collection of hives. "Hello, queens! It's just me, Libby. Thank you for your honey. It's made me well."

Their drone changed pitch, almost like they answered me. It sounded ... musical. Maybe Mal wasn't as nuts as I thought, talking to the bees like people. I gave them a wide berth anyway.

I followed the edge of the orchard around toward the Christmas tree plantation on the north side of the farm. The sweet aroma of blossoms mingled with the fresh scent of pine resin, and I inhaled it deeply. The smell of spring--the very aroma seemed to fill me with energy.

I struck the access road and spotted Mal's tacky brown and orange camper. It was parked at the side of the road, the wheels supported on planks to keep it level.

As I approached, the door swung open and Mal stepped out. Maybe it was the sunlight, but today he looked even thinner than before, with hollows in his cheeks and under his eyes. His chin stuck out like a spike, and he wore a straw hat to keep off the sun. But as he looked at me, his eyes flashed a bright, cheerful green. "Hello, Libby."

"Hi, Mal. I brought back your jar." I handed it to him.

He took it and set it inside the camper. "Thank you. Did you enjoy it?"

"Very much! I think it made me well!" I did a little dance on the spot.

He gazed at me for a long moment. "Yes, you seem much improved."

Suki frisked around us and approached Mal with her head and tail down, collie-language for uncertainty. He offered her the back of his hand. She sniffed it, then trotted to me and sat down, as if she were trying to be protective and friendly at the same time. It was enough to remind me of my old suspicions.

"Let me know if you feel sick again, and I shall give you more honey." His voice was courteous, but he stared through me, as if his mind was elsewhere.

"Okay. Thanks." And because I was well, I indulged my old habit of talking too much. "Are you a vampire?"

Mal's eyes focused on me and changed to amber. "What?"

I laughed to show I wasn't serious, but my mouth kept going. "Oh, you know, you're so pale, and you never let the sun touch you."

He touched the brim of his hat. "I burn easily."

"So do vampires! Foom, they go up in flames. And you never explained how you move so fast." Crap, why had I said that? I was curious, yes, but not this much. It was my annoying habit of finding a point of conflict and beating on it until it gave way.

He said nothing, but he turned away and gazed across the orchard with his arms folded, as if my words hurt him.

My conscience whispered at me to shut up, but my mouth wouldn't stop. "And you're still avoiding explaining! I've read all the books, you know, and it fits."

I kept expecting him to realize I was kidding, and to joke along with me. Instead, I was offending him. As if he really was a vampire. Why couldn't I shut up? I clamped my mouth closed.

He smiled a thin, tight smile. "If you wish to learn about vampires, you should ask your friend Robert."

"Rob's not a vampire. He goes out in the sun all the time." But I was nervous now. I stroked Suki and avoided looking at Mal.

Mal closed and locked the camper door with slow, deliberate movements, as if giving himself time to think. "How long have you dated him?"

"Since September, so just over six months."

An emotion flickered across Mal's face. Pain? Anger? But it vanished before I could identify it. He walked toward the bee station, and I followed him in relief at the change of subject. Suki trotted alongside, ears up.

"Libby, how often does he kiss you?"

Wow, that was totally none of his business. I rolled my eyes. "What, is this one of those conversations about how nice girls don't kiss boys?"

"No." He sounded matter of fact, like when my dad talks about finances. "He disguises his feeding with kisses. Yesterday I saw him kissing the hand of a girl at the local high school."

I knew he messed with other girls--it was one reason I planned to dump him. But ... my stomach curled as if I had looked over the edge of a high cliff.
Feeding?

Woodenly I said, "He does that. He's such a flirt."

Mal glanced at me, and his eyes were green-brown, more human than usual. "I suggest you pursue a relationship with someone more stable than my brother. He is a vampire."

No, no, no, I didn't want the conversation to go this way. This was too much information--why had I asked about this? I struggled to find a reasonable middle ground--Robert bummed me for cash and food all the time. "In the metaphorical sense?"

"No. Literally."

I forced a laugh. "But vampires aren't real."

"Then why did you ask what I am?"

The question was sharp as a nail, pinning down my flippancy. I fidgeted with my braid. "Are you?"

"No."

"But you're something!"

"Yes."

That was as far as I dared go. I gulped and backed away one step, then another. My free hand dove into my pocket for my knife. "Um, I'm gonna go now."

I expected him to demand that I stay, and maybe get violent. Instead, Mal lifted a hand. "Farewell."

I alternated between a jog and a fast walk all the way home. Suki ran beside me, sensing my unease.

What had happened back there? What had started off as a joke about vampires turned dark and serious. Had I offended him? I anxiously sorted through my impressions of the conversation. No, he wasn't offended, so much as ... angry. That was it, he'd been angry. The short, clipped phrases, the way he pressed his lips together. But he wasn't mad until we started talking about Robert.

I walked faster and faster until I was almost jogging. Robert, feeding on me with kisses? Kissing other girls at school? But he'd never bitten me--well, not in the neck. He'd nibbled my lips a few times, but never enough to draw blood. How could he be a vampire, then?

Various books opened in my memory with the answers. Maybe he fed on the soul, or life essence. Vampires could feed on anything, depending on what kind they were.

But who was I kidding? This was real life. There was no such thing as vampires.

I stopped halfway through the almond orchard and looked back. No sign of Mal or anyone else. Just trees, bare branches, and scattered early blooms in the watery spring sunlight.

If Robert wasn't a vampire, why did Mal admit to being ... something?

It chilled me as if all the valley's fog had settled in my marrow.

"God," I said aloud, "what should I do about Robert?"

Silence. God refused to speak to me any more about Robert. I knew it was because he wasn't a believer, and God already said to not be unequally yoked and all that. Kind of like a parent saying, "What have I already told you?"

But what if God disapproved of the vampire thing, too? Wouldn't He warn me? Unless that was why Mal had showed up.

"So," I continued, "what about Mal?"

Immediately a thought slipped into my head. "Jars of clay." I pulled out my smart phone, opened the Bible app, and hunted down the verse.

However, we possess this precious treasure in frail vessels of earth, that the grandeur and exceeding greatness of the power may be shown to be from God and not from ourselves.

I read it over and over, becoming more blown away each time. Mal was an earthen vessel full of treasure? What, was he a Christian? Was that what he'd been trying to say?

It felt like my brain was having thoughts too big for it. I avoided the house and headed toward the blueberry field.

The blueberries grew in rows taller than me, four acres of them. Their dark green foliage was sprinkled with pink buds. The bees would have more than almonds to worry about, come March or April.

But thinking about bees made me think about Mal, and where he was concerned, my brain had exploded. How could I even bring it up? "Hey Mal, I asked God about you, and he said you were treasure in a clay jar. What's it mean?"

Instead I walked--skipped, actually--down a row between blueberry hedges and stroked the silky buds. Suki ran in and out of the hedges, sniffing the ground.

Here I had this cool verse about Mal, and deafening silence about Robert. My exploded brain pulled itself together, and I stopped skipping. Divine silence scares me. I knew I shouldn't have dated Robert, but geez.

My phone vibrated in my pocket. I pulled it out, and exhaled violently.

Robert had texted, "Hey babe, I'm at your house. Where are you?"

Panic clawed my chest, and I had trouble breathing for a second. Not Robert! I wasn't ready to talk to him yet!

I paced along the rows with Suki, and tried to calm down. Besides God's silence, bits of Mal's conversation floated through my head. He's a vampire ... disguises his feeding with kisses ... kissed a girl's hand at school ...