Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) (9 page)

"No way." I stared at Mal, and he gazed back without expression. I couldn't imagine my own dad tearing me apart that way, and leaving me for undead. No wonder Mal kept to himself and talked mostly to bees. He was damaged in a way I'd never imagined, let alone encountered.

I was so out of my depth on this one--I wanted to comfort him, but what in the world could I say? I fumbled around and finally said, "Was your dad a psychopath?"

"No, merely a scientist." Mal's cheekbones and chin seemed a little sharper, as if the strain of confession had shrunk him. His eyes had gone from green to dull gray. "He discovered the motes during an unrelated experiment. He had always been interested in the occult, much to my mother's sorrow. I believe that is why he was adept at controlling the death motes. The power consumed him."

My stomach curled under my ribs, and I wanted to gag. "So he experimented on his own kids?"

"Yes."

This was almost too sick for me. It was like talking about child molestation--only it was souls that had been violated.

I opened my mouth to ask about the puzzle box, and shut it again. I'd forced him to admit to being a lich and dug into his shady family history. If he told me much more, I might start throwing up. And
that's
certainly attractive.

I had liked him before, and now an immense slab of pity had been added. I couldn't find words to match the feelings. "Well, you're very nice, for a lich."

His eyes crinkled. "Thank you."

Someday I'd get him to smile. Knowing about his horrible life of suffering, I'd try to help him forget it for a while--maybe even laugh. What did the motes do when a lich laughed?

Exhaustion swept over me. I'd stressed about this conversation for days, and now sleep beckoned. I needed time to come to grips with the whole lich thing. "I'll come back tomorrow. The fog might burn off some more."

"Perhaps." He turned away and shoved his hands in his pockets, friendless, lonely undead monster that he was.

I'd probably hurt him terribly with this confrontation. My heart swelled with unidentified feelings--I must not cause him any more hurt. I stepped out of the cart and tapped his shoulder. When he turned, I held out a hand. "Still friends?"

He shook my hand with his almost-smile. "Still friends."

I really wanted to hug him, but I couldn't quite do it. I gazed into his eyes, which had become green-brown again--human--and many words hung between us, unspoken. Then I retreated to the golf cart and drove home, my heart racing as if I'd run a mile.

***

I slept until nearly noon the next day.

When I awoke, my nervousness and feelings about Mal had turned to stomach cramps, and I had to run to the bathroom and barf.

Afterward, as I wearily washed my face, I mentally cursed this sickness. Valley fever or vampiric infection, I was tired of it. It made me so weak, I couldn't even handle meeting an undead monster who had been created by a bigger monster.

Okay, maybe some of my weakness was justified.

I crept back to my room and sat on my bed to brush my hair. Outside, the sky was a hazy, milky blue. Our front lawn was brown, but the weeds down by the propane tanks were tall and green. Moisture dripped from the eaves, but when I touched the window, the glass was warm.

Maybe I could talk Mal into drawing a chalk circle around me. I needed to get well.

I went downstairs and drank some juice to calm my stomach. It stayed down, so I nibbled a few crackers, too. If only I'd saved some of that honey and its distilled life motes! The memory of its golden sweetness on my tongue made my mouth water. I dug a jar of normal honey out of the cupboard and spread a spoonful on a cracker. It was good, but not the experience that Mal's honey had been.

I sighed, put everything away, and went looking for Mom.

She was in her craft room--an unused bedroom upstairs--and quilt squares were scattered all over the craft table. Mom was cutting more with a rotary blade like the ones they use on pizza.

I stuck my head in. "Hi Mom. I'm gonna sun myself for a while."

Mom leaned back in her chair and swung her hair out of her eyes. "All right. It's warm out there today. Don't bother the beekeepers." She shot me a look. Apparently my visits with Mal had been noticed.

I nodded. "I don't feel like getting stung--I'm just looking for a warm spot to sit."

"All right." She scrutinized my face. "You still look peaky. You rest today, okay?"

"Okay, Mom." I'd be sitting down in the cart the whole time I talked to Mal, anyway.

I grabbed Suki's leash off the hook by the back door, and whistled for her. She leaped off her doggie bed on the back porch, and ran to me like a black and white excitement-seeking missile.

She jumped around so much I could hardly leash her. After she almost knocked me down, I made her run alongside the cart while I drove.

I made a long, slow circle of the almond orchard. Before I bothered Mal, I'd ask his permission. Mom hadn't said to avoid him entirely--letter of the law and all that. But when I sighted the bee station, a bunch of other beekeepers were busy moving the other hives, and Mal wasn't there. I detoured among the trees.

The orchard was a sweet smelling cloud of white. When I stopped to let my tired dog climb in the cart, the whole orchard echoed with the hum of bees. Each tree swirled with them. Once in a while there came a second of complete silence, as every wing was stilled.

As I listened to their hum, I recalled Mal speaking to them, and the hive buzzing in response. The sound had the cadence of a melody, as if the bees had sang a song. What if I could learn to understand them?

I had no way of knowing which bees were Mal's and which were the ordinary bees. So I addressed them all. "Hello, workers! It's just me, Libby. I'd love it if you spoke to me."

The humming around me didn't change. Maybe it only worked with a full hive, or maybe they needed their queen.

I guided the cart back toward the bee station. The beekeepers were packing up and leaving, talking and laughing. Still no sign of Mal. But I refused to admit my disappointment.

Once the station was empty, I parked the cart and let Suki off the leash. "There you go, girl. Don't bother the hives."

Suki gave me a sarcastic look--she hated bee stings as much as I did. She trotted toward the brushy forage area to hunt for rabbits.

I walked slowly among Mal's hives, keeping at a respectful distance, as I would with someone else's dog. "Hello, Queen Elizabeth and Queen Victoria. Hello Mary and Henrietta and Anne. It's me, Libby. Is it possible for me to understand you?"

Queen Victoria's hive, the one nearest me, made a musical descending trill. I froze. That had been talk, although I hadn't understood it. A few bees circled my head, as if checking me out.

I sat down on the edge of the chilly pavement. Animals needed time to adjust to strangers, and bees relied on scent as much as other animals did. But the hive had seemed to answer me, which was just as exciting as seeing life motes. Maybe I needed to enter a trance state.

A few years ago, I'd learned how to understand subliminal messages in music. The trick was to relax and drift, and try not to pay attention. That way my subconscious picked up the hidden words, and suddenly I'd have the meaning. Playing videogames worked like a dream for this.

I gazed across the avenues of trees at the distant blue mountains. The bees hummed in their hives, a pleasant monotone. The sun warmed my face and back, radiating deep into me. My muscles relaxed. If not for the sickness in my body and the cold pavement under my rear, I could have been at perfect peace.

I lost track of time after a while. I grew warm and comfortable, and I must have dozed. In my half-conscious state, I became aware of soft, melodic voices. "She sleeps. Yet she listens. Sing to her. Teach her to hear."

My heart beat faster, and I snapped awake. I whispered, "I hear you." They weren't hard to understand, after all. Mal had them singing in English. He'd probably pumped them so full of life motes, they'd learned his language.

"She understands," they sang. "Seldom does anyone try to understand. She is Mal's friend and she is sick."

"How can I get well?" I murmured.

"We gather light and make honey. You may have some. Not yet. Soon."

"Thank you," I whispered. "I know how hard you work for it."

"Yes." A note of pride entered their song. "Superior honey feeds superior broods and queens. We are stronger than other bees."

They fell silent for a while. I watched the yellow striped insects crawling in and out of their hives, always busy. They were happy, too. They moved like Suki did when she was trotting around outside, hunting squirrels--animals conducting business and satisfied with life.

Suddenly the hive let out a buzzing whine--a fierce sound that made me flinch backward. "What's wrong? Is it me?"

"Mal is angry. Mal is hurt. He needs us."

The whining sound spread to each hive as they all picked up the news. A cloud of bees poured out of each hive and flew into the sky. I scrambled to my feet. "Can I help?"

Their song was much softer now with half of each hive missing. "Leave it be. We will protect him."

Mal was angry and hurt? Was that why he wasn't here? What had happened? I rose to my feet and peered around. I'd circled the orchard and he wasn't here, but he might not be on the ranch at all. Bees flew fast and far. I watched them fly in all directions, and gritted my teeth at my own helplessness.

The nearest hive whispered something. I bent down to listen, and pushed my mind back into that dreamy state where I could understand.

"The land grows sick. We must stop He Whom We Fear before the land dies."

I wished to negotiate a truce with Robert. He would leave Libby alone and I would leave him alone. If he insisted on interacting with her, then he must agree to eat the magic honey as soon as I'd harvested it. I could not heal her if he continued his quest to affectionately destroy her.

If he didn't agree to either condition, I would tear a few holes in his immortal hide.

I walked through town, sprinting in short bursts whenever I was unobserved. My clawed gloves clanked in my pockets. I preferred not to use them, but Robert had taught me long ago that I had to face him armed.

Robert's fighting gloves made mine look like delicate lace.

The sun's warmth upon the fog's recent damp amplified the smells--wet asphalt, green weeds, stagnant water, car exhaust, pesticides, and cows. The sun gleamed white on the pavement until I was nearly dazzled.

My brother's scent was mixed with the rest. I caught it faintly here and there, and tracked it toward a street lined with apartment buildings.

Hate stirred within me like a restless beast. It must not take the upper hand in the coming discussion. My brother had been human once. And I still loved him with the love born of will power and determination. My honey would help abate his hunger--if he would taste it. For many years Robert had preferred his food with a heartbeat.

I spotted him on a second floor balcony with a cigarette between his lips, trying to mask his scent. He could consume cigars three meals a day and it would never hide his odor from me. I clenched my teeth, took a firm grip on my hate, and strode to the foot of the stairs.

He leaned on the railing with a sardonic smile. "Hey, Mal. Fancy you showing up. Did she dump you?"

I climbed the stairs and stepped onto the balcony. It was a flimsy wooden affair, all splinters and peeling brown paint. "We must talk."

He snorted. "Must we?"

"Yes. Either you stay away from Libby, or you eat my honey."

He sneered. "How about I take the third option and just kill you?"

I met his eyes and said nothing.

Robert looked away first, and studied his cigarette with a petulant frown. "I love her, Mal. I can't help feeding on her. I don't even have to bite her anymore--all it takes is a touch."

"She is so weak, she is bleeding life like a wounded deer!" I drew a breath to steady myself, and lowered my voice. "What you have done is not love."

He whirled to face me, teeth bared, and flung his cigarette aside. "What do you know about love, lich? She's my life! Now that she's gone, I'm torn in two, no thanks to you!"

I shook my head and gripped the splintery railing. "She doesn't seem to share your amorous feelings."

"Oh, she does." Robert shot me a cruel grin. "But you couldn't hope to understand human emotions. Dad cauterized your psyche when he cut out your soul."

"Shut up," I snarled. His words burned deep into my heart and fed the fear beneath the hatred. What if I was truly incapable of any semblance of humanity, despite the bees and their honey? What if I was deluding myself into thinking I could control the death inside me?

What if I failed Libby because of what I am?

I drew a deep breath and forced my fists open. "I did not come to fight with you. I wish to reach an agreement."

His upper lip curled. "I'm not touching your bug juice."

"Then stay away from Libby."

"Why, hasn't she dumped you yet? I told her you're a lich. Now she knows all about our supernatural fraternity."

"We spoke about it," I replied with satisfaction that his barbs had missed their mark. "She is handling it well. But you would be wise to keep it secret--science would love to get its hands on us."

Robert grinned. "I'd love to see them try to drag me off. All I have to do is this." He flicked his fingers at me.

Death power struck me in the face like a club. I staggered backward and hit the wall. The life motes within me swirled to the surface, drawn by the death magic's magnetic pull. I straightened, wincing, and trying to hold it in.

I had not expected him to fight me with magic. I'd come prepared for a physical altercation, and my magical defenses were not ready. As I struggled to raise them, the core of death inside me--what made me a lich--felt how much life occupied this area of town.

"We can't do this here! People will die!"

Robert raised an eyebrow. "Why do you care? You're seriously that weak?" He flicked his fingers again.

I crashed backward through the apartment window. Glass shards slashed my shoulders and neck. I struggled to my feet, but worse than the pain was the sickness of the death magic. It covered me in cold and silence--far too much at once. The warmth and life began to trickle out of me, leaving only the cold.

I gathered retreating life magic in a handful of heat and hurled it at my brother. It struck his face. He screamed as if I'd splashed him with boiling water.

I reached for more, and there was none. Nothing but death swirled inside me, so easy to use. I resisted it, but there was too much. It drew on the lives of the people in the surrounding apartments, of the grass and bushes, of everything. I tried to restrain it and watch Robert at the same time, but this was impossible.

Use it on him
, the dark part of me whispered.
Draw out all the life he's sucked out of Libby. Starve him.

Not now,
the wiser part of me argued.
Not here!

Robert hit me with another blast, and I caught the railing before I fell down the stairs.

His eyes had turned enormous and dark, and his face gleamed with sweat. "How are you so weak? You're a lich! You should have laid me out by now!"

This time, rather than using his magic, he simply shoved me down the stairs. I rolled, bounced, grabbed at the railings and halted myself before I reached bottom. The steps were concrete. Even the short fall inflicted painful damage on my ribs.

I staggered the rest of the way down the steps and fumbled my clawed gloves out of my pockets, but it was already no use. My dark power was out of control--all it would take was one more flash of temper, and I'd succumb to my lich side. Then everyone in this apartment complex would die sudden, mysterious deaths.

But Robert would survive. He could not be killed by death magic.

He clinked among the broken glass on the balcony, then appeared at the top of the steps. "You're too holy to use your power, aren't you? Will you stand there while I dismember you?"

He'd retrieved his clawed gloves. Three knife blades were mounted on the backs of his hands, like Wolverine. I knew from experience how badly they hurt. I backed away and raised my clawed hands in defense, but injured ribs halted further movement. I sucked in breath through my teeth.

Robert galloped down the steps, blackness swirling in his eyes, and slashed at me. I parried his first blow, but the second caught me in the upper arm and knocked me sideways. The blades stabbed into my back and pierced my vitals. I exhaled in a grunt--I could not scream.

"Seriously," Robert said in my ear, "if you're trying to make a point, you're failing."

Darkness swirled over my vision. As I sank to the pavement, I wished death would come for me at last. Nobody ever considers how much pain a mangled zombie is in. My ears buzzed. If only Robert would extract his accursed claws! I lacked the strength to use mine.

Wait. The buzzing was not only in my ears. Robert yanked his claws out of my back and bellowed.

A cloud of bees swarmed around Robert's head. He swiped at them with both sets of claws, and beat at his own face. They'd targeted his eyes.

A few bees hovered beside my ear. "Mal! Run! We'll protect you!"

I gathered my strength and hauled my broken body to its feet. Then I called on my supernatural speed and fled--through the streets, out of town, through the orchard, and back to the bee station. The journey consumed the last remnants of life motes within me.

By the time I reached the bees, my strength had given out. I crawled among my hives and lay on my face. I breathed slowly, deeply, and drew the death magic deep inside myself, where it wouldn't harm them. It formed into a hard ball in my core, cold as a comet and equally poisonous.

The bees came to me, and investigated my wounds. They stopped my bleeding with wax. A steady stream of workers brought droplets of honey to my lips. With each drop, fresh, crystallized life swirled into the darkness inside me. Flesh and bone began to mend. The cold ball of compressed death shrank, as the negative energy was balanced by positive energy. As the physical pain diminished, I was free to contemplate my failure to negotiate with Robert.

He had flatly refused the honey, and worse, expressed feelings for Libby. I had assumed she was one more food source to him--but no, he had to go and fall for her.

As you have done
, a critical voice whispered in my mind.

My little brother, my friend--now my rival and enemy. Hate was my automatic reaction, but the puzzle box was a few feet away. It allowed me to feel regret, and grief, and sorrow.

I could not save my brother, no matter how much I wished to. But there remained a slim chance that I could save Libby from un-life as a vampire's thrall.

Despite her message about treasures in earthen vessels, I still saw within myself only darkness and failure.

I sat up at last, murmuring thanks to the bees, and saw Libby.

She sat at the edge of the concrete, chin on her knees, staring at the bees and me. It looked as if she had been there for some time. Perhaps since before I arrived--I had not exactly scanned for observers. My insides turned cold, and a desire struck me to crawl into the nearest hiding place and curl into a small, pathetic lump.

"What happened?" she asked in a small voice. Her position, with her knees against her chest and arms wrapped around them, was a defensive posture.

She feared me, yet she had not fled. I slowly pushed myself to my hands and knees. "I had a small disagreement with my brother."

Her eyes widened. "
Robert
did that to you? Like, with a knife?"

"Pray you never encounter that side of him." If he ever threatened her with those claws, I might be forced to break my vow to never use death magic.

The puzzle box, and the life it contained, called to me. I crawled to my disguised trunk, opened it, and withdrew the box. The engraved wood and silver gleamed in the afternoon sunlight. I hugged it to my chest.

Humanity flowed into my empty spirit. My frustration and grief over Robert drowned me in anguish. Tears blurred my eyes. But worse still was the horrified embarrassment that Libby had observed me at my lowest point. How could she watch me, damaged and incapacitated, and not despise me?

Other emotions followed those--powerful, dangerous emotions centered around Libby.

Blast it all, I had a terrible crush on her.

Yet, despite my emotional wallowing, the life streamed steadily through the wholesome wood and metal, into my wounded body. The pain in my insides was far less, as was the burning sensation on my left side, where I had struck the concrete steps.

I pulled the puzzle box away from my heart, and the feelings faded as the healing inside me slowed. I returned it to my heart and drew a deep breath. It was the metaphysical equivalent of feeling returning to a bloodless limb. Worse, it left me exceptionally vulnerable.

Libby uncurled, stepped a few paces closer to me, and sat down again. "Were you talking to Robert about me?"

"In a manner of speaking."

"Because he told me about you?"

The pain was too raw and fresh. "I am not interested in an interrogation."

She flinched and drew her knees in again. "Oh. I'm sorry. I know you're hurt." Her eyes flicked from wound to wound. "You probably don't want a doctor."

"No." Why had I snapped at her? My unstable emotional state made me far too sensitive.

A loose cloud of bees swirled out of the sky, back to the hives. Several landed on my shoulder. "The life feeder's eyes are swollen shut. He shall not bother you for some time."

I smiled. "Excellent work."

Many bees had given their lives for mine today. It touched me deeper than it should have, and I blinked away more tears.

Libby watched and said nothing. Her very presence sent electrical prickles across my skin, as if imagining her touch. Curse these emotions. I'd grown used to the monotony of my condition, when all I felt was varying degrees of hate.

As I met her eyes again, she asked, "Who is He Whom You Fear?"

I stiffened. Questions exploded in my brain. "How do you know that term?"

"The bees told me. I've been listening to them."

"You understand the bees?"

"Yeah. They sing in English."

I blinked several times and clutched the puzzle box a little tighter. "They speak the language of bees. You have a gift."

She tilted her head to one side. "Really? Huh. Maybe it's because I ate their honey."

Point. That was a potential side effect I had not considered.