Death's Mantle: An Urban Fantasy Novel (Revelations Book 1) (6 page)

It had sounded totally crazy that Kim would lie about the attack, but Ian couldn’t shake the feeling that Malcom might be right. Especially given what had happened at Amy’s house.

“How’d it go?” Malcom inquired, not looking up. “You win?”

“Second, Caden came in first.” Ian rushed past him, careful to shield his tear-stained face from his friend.

“I see,” Malcom replied, still not looking up from his book. It was a heavy looking thing with a black leather cover and pages that gleamed like gold around the edges.

“I’m taking a shower. Try not to excite yourself too much.” Ian didn’t expect a response as he made his way toward the bathroom. Malcom was clearly too involved in his studies to pay much attention. Good. He was in no mood to talk. Not just yet, anyway. He needed a moment to try and forget what his father had done with the roses. Besides, he smelled like chlorine, and it was starting to fry his brain.

Once inside his bathroom, Ian turned on the shower and stripped. Without waiting for the water to warm, he stepped into the chilling spray. He always relished those first few moments when the temperature was too cold. For whatever reason, he’d always enjoyed colder water, which was part of the reason he had taken up swimming. Something about gliding through a chilled pool in the early morning made him feel more at ease than a long soak in a spa ever would.

He put his head against the cool tile and smiled as the water cascaded over him, dragging all his pain and anguish down the drain along with it.

Ian was pretty sure Malcom had spent the evening sitting on Ian’s floor surrounded by books he’d gotten from the library and plugging away at Ian’s spare laptop. Not that Malcom being over for long periods of time was uncommon since he didn’t have a computer of his own nor real quiet space. More often than not, he was like a roommate that didn’t pay rent, which suited Ian just fine because Ian lived alone.

When he was six, his mom died from cancer. He remembered her wasting away in her bed, unable to even hold him. After that he had grown very quiet, what could he say, after all? As a child, he would run into the kitchen every morning expecting her to be there cooking breakfast, and at parent visitation days, he would look around expecting to see her, but there was never anyone there but his fondest wishes.

Intellectually, he knew she was gone, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. When he turned thirteen, all the pictures of his mother disappeared from the house. Try as he might, he had been unable to find them anywhere. He still recalled the conversation that followed.

“Dad, where are all the pictures of mom?” he’d asked, holding an empty frame as the cardboard backing stared back at him.

“I put them away.” His father crossed his arms over the chest of his blazer and settled his blue eyes upon him, and for a moment, it seemed like he was gearing up for a fight.

“But why?” Ian asked, clutching the empty picture frame to his chest, the silver corners digging into his flesh.

“Because you wouldn’t stop crying,” his dad replied, turning away from him and stripping off his jacket.

But that was a lie. He had never let his dad see him cry. He knew he could never do that, no matter how much it hurt. Things slowly went downhill after that, culminating in his father’s remarriage a year later.

While he wasn’t sure exactly what it was his dad did for a living, he knew he made a lot of money. So much money, in fact, that not only did he have the mayor on speed dial, but the governor as well. Still, he was so busy that, at first, Ian had been surprised when his father had brought home a date.

She was a year older than his father, which was odd in and of itself because his mother had been several years younger than him. She wasn’t very pretty either with short brown pageboy hair and big, sad brown eyes. Even when she smiled, it seemed like was always about to burst into tears.

Ian was even more surprised when they were married two short months later. At first, Ian had liked his step mom, but the closer she tried to get, the more Ian felt like he was replacing his mother with another woman and that felt wrong to him. He knew that wasn’t actually the case, but for some reason, every time she tried to comfort or talk to him, a hole opened inside of him and guilt crept up the back of his neck like a red hot spider.

When he pulled away, disappearing into the emptiness of his room so he wouldn’t have to deal with her, his father told her Ian liked to be alone, that he was happier by himself.

Ian slammed his fist into the shower tile. Pain shot through his hand, sobering him. He felt tears well in the corners of his eyes, and he wiped them away angrily.

“Who said I wanted to be alone!” he growled at the wall. It did not respond.

When he was sixteen, he asked to move out, not wanting to be a nuisance to his father and stepmother, especially since she was pregnant with twins. He’d been given a two-bedroom apartment and money was regularly deposited into his bank account for living expenses. The only real contact they’d had since then were the occasions where his father asked if he was eating okay since he spent so little.

Ian subsisted largely on soda and ramen noodles. He called it his power food, but deep down, he knew it was because he wanted to be as little of a nuisance as possible. If only his friends knew he was thin not from swimming but more from not eating.

He shut the water off and began to dry himself with a thin white towel with a fading blue emblem of a crown in the bottom left-hand corner. He smirked. He’d tried better towels over the years, and had a closet full of more expensive ones, but for whatever reason, he always preferred the cheap one he’d nabbed from a hotel when his father had taken everyone to Europe two summers ago.

As he hung the towel back on the rack, a hunger pang struck him, and he gripped the wall for stability. Dizziness threatened to overwhelm him, but he fought against it desperately. The room continued to sway as he pulled his sweatpants over his still semi-wet legs and cursed at the trouble the pants gave him.

Ian stumbled into the other room and flopped down on the couch to catch his breath and wait for the world to stop spinning. Malcom didn’t move but continued thumbing through the book he was holding until he found the page he’d marked earlier. He glanced around until he found Ian and walked over to him, thrusting the book into his lap.

“As far as I can tell, Polyphemus was the cyclops that Odysseus tricked on his quest back home,” the words seemed to tumble out of Malcom in a rush so Ian had to turn them over in his mind for a moment before they made sense. “You know, the ‘nobody’ guy?”

“Nobody guy?” Ian asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, when Polyphemus asked Odysseus his name, Odysseus said ‘nobody.’ So when the cyclops yelled, ‘Nobody hurt me,’ everyone basically pointed and laughed.” Malcom shrugged. “If Polyphemus has a wife, I’m not sure who it is, Galatea, maybe, but I think she’s a nymph.”

“I’m pretty sure neither nymphs nor cyclopses are real,” Ian’s stomach grumbled so loudly he wondered if Malcom could hear it. Well, he did have food, after all… He got to his feet and went into the attached kitchen.

“The cyclops seemed pretty real when he attacked Kim in the hallway during school,” Mal replied, gritting his teeth together. His eyes went distant like he was reliving the memory.

“I asked Kim about it after the swim meet, and she told me you were a crazy person,” Ian said, pulling a Coke out of the fridge before shutting it and shoving some noodles into the microwave. “That there was no cyclops or anything at all. And,” he added, taking a swig of soda, “there is absolutely no damage to the school even though you claim the hallway had been partially destroyed.”

“How can she say that? The monster practically killed her.” Mal shook his head. “Are you sure she just wasn’t being hostile.”

“I’m pretty sure that was exactly what’s going on, unless you hallucinated the whole thing. You’re not doing drugs right?” Ian asked, half-jokingly.

“Not drugs.” Malcom got up and took the Coke Ian held out to him. “I hate to say it, but something feels really wrong with me.” He shook his head again. “I don’t know how to explain it exactly, but it’s sort of like something inside me cracked and as it breaks apart, I’m becoming more…” he trailed off and took a sip of his Coke before frowning at it. “I don’t know how you drink this stuff. It’s so bitter. Pepsi is a lot better. It’s sweet and doesn’t bite your throat nearly as much…”

“You’re so wrong. There aren’t even words!” Ian sighed like a music student trying to explain the beauty of a flute solo to a chemistry student. The microwave beeped, and Ian swung it open to be blasted in the face by steam. He took a step backward waving his hand as the scent of chicken broth filled his nostrils. “Want one?” Ian asked over his shoulder.

“No, I need to be getting to work soon,” Malcom said, shouldering his little black backpack. “Thanks for letting me hang out here while you were out.” He looked down at his beaten up skater shoes. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” Ian blew on his cup of soup. “But one thing is bothering me.”

“What?” Malcom asked, one hand on the doorknob.

“If Polyphemus came to our school looking to capture Kim and trade her for his wife, what is stopping him from trying again?” Ian took a careful sip of his soup, but it was so hot it scalded him. Malcom’s face paled, and his hand slipped off the knob.

“You don’t think she’s in trouble, do you?” Malcom asked, worry lacing his words. “Should I go over there and check on her?”

“Maybe.” Ian shrugged as a bad feeling settled in his stomach along with his first bite of ramen. “Amy and Jesse are already missing. It would make sense to try again when she’s home alone and not surrounded by tons of people.” Ian paused to take a bite of ramen. “But I was thinking about something else, the words the guy said before vanishing with our friends.”

“What’d he say?” Malcom asked, dropping his backpack onto the floor. Guess he wasn’t heading to work after all…

“Something about it being a trap and Polyphemus going to get the others. I don’t know who the others were because when I opened the door, everyone was gone, and the room was a burned out husk.” Ian finished his soup and tossed the empty foam container into the trash. “But it seems like Kim would be a pretty good guess.”

Malcom’s face fell. “When I went to save Kim, it felt like I had to get to her no matter what. The urge was overpowering. If that hadn’t happened or I’d gotten there just a few moments later…”

“She’d be gone too.” Ian tried to sip his Coke and was surprised to find it nearly empty. He tipped the last of it into his mouth before tossing it in a separate bin overflowing with red soda cans.

“I think you might be right. If Polyphemus was going to trade Kim for his wife, there’s no reason why he wouldn’t try again. I think I should head over there.” His face set in a hard line of determination as the words left his mouth. “Then I can protect her if something happens.”

“I know you think that’s a good idea, but let’s say we go there and there is a giant cyclops. What do you plan on doing,
exactly
?” Ian reached out and snagged Malcom’s barely touched soda from the counter where he’d left it. No sense letting it go to waste.

“You’re so not helping. You’re supposed to be helping. You’re at this very moment doing the opposite of what you should be doing.” Malcom crossed his arms over his chest.

Ian inwardly sighed. This was going to be a long, particularly crazy, day. Taking Malcom to Kim’s house did not seem like it would be a fun time. He especially didn’t want to be there if that Polyphemus character did show up. “I guess I could go with you, but I’m not sure how she’s going to react to that…”

“I think it would be better if we went over there to make sure she’s okay. If you want, I’ll wait in the car while you go check on her,” Malcom replied, eyes pleading.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea for you to come. You need to stay away from her. I can go by myself.” Ian exhaled. “As much as I hate to say it, you need to stop with her, Malcom. I never said anything before because I liked having friends that, you know, hung out together, but hear me when I say this: She’s bad news.” Before Malcom could respond, Ian held up his hand and pushed down a sudden surge of guilt. “She cheated on you how many times? I don’t want you to actually tell me. I just want you to realize you’re better off without her.”

“I’m coming. It will be fine,” Malcom said, words clipped and angry as he jerked the door open. “I’m going there with or without you, so you may as well pretend you’re my friend and take me with you.” His face softened and his eyes became sort of pleading.

“Fine,” Ian said as they stepped outside and approached Ian’s Honda. Ian opened his car door and got in. “Why do I always drive? What happened to your car, anyway?”

“It stopped running.” Malcom looked away as he got in and buckled his seat belt, and for a second, Ian almost thought he was embarrassed.

“Oh, what’s wrong with it?” Ian inquired innocently as Malcom leaned his head against the window and stared out into the parking lot.

“Out of gas.”

Kim 01:01

“Caden, stop.” Kim shoved his hand off her breast again. “I have a couple things to do first.”

He looked at her and smiled, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t want you to do anything you wouldn’t want to do.”

“I’ve seen that look before... You just want to have sex. It doesn’t really matter what I want, does it?” Kim asked, sliding away from him across the couch. “You don’t care at all.”

“That’s not true at all. I do care about you. I just know you want it too…” Caden leaned in, one arm sneaking around her waist and pulling her toward him as he kissed her neck, sending tingles racing across her flesh.

Kim tilted her head back and closed her eyes. “Can’t you keep your hands off me for five seconds?” she murmured, breath huskier than she’d have liked as he nibbled on her ear.

“You’re just so beautiful. I can’t help it.” His words were hot on her skin as he spoke, and she shivered.

“Well, you should learn to control yourself,” Kim whispered as his fingers trailed along her thigh in slow circles, threatening to turn her resolve into jelly.