Feral (10 page)

“Jesus Christ!” Bennie exclaimed.  Grabbing one of his tees, he wrapped it around my arm, clamping his hand over it to stop the bleeding.  “What the hell is wrong with you,
Thale?  You really are crazy!”

“I am not crazy!  Look!”  Prying his hand away, I lifted the tee away and showed him my arm.  The bleeding already slowed, and the laceration began closing itself up.  Bennie
released my arm, stumbling away from me, his blue eyes wide with astonishment.

“Do you believe me now?” I snapped, thrusting my arm in his direction.

“Well, it’s not like I can argue with that, can I?  Jesus,” Bennie said, pushing a hand through his dirty blond hair.  That was Bennie for ya.  Already rationalizing.  “What are you going to tell mom and dad?  They’re going to freak when they find out.”

“You think?” I said acerbically.

“I wouldn’t suggest you break it to them the same way.  You almost gave
me
a heart attack—you could
kill
them if you go stabbing yourself in front of ‘em.”

I rolled my eyes.  “Thanks for the support.  Was that meant to bolster me?”

“Geez, sorry.  It’s a lot to absorb.”

“You’re telling me.”

Returning to his comfort zone, Bennie took my hand again and raised my arm to get a better look.  He twisted and turned it, watching as what was left of the gash seal into a nearly flawless stretch of skin.  “Have you done it yet—changed, I mean—like into a wolf?”

“No, Icarus says I have another week and a half, but I don’t know if that’s before I can change or before I don’t have a choice anymore.”

“Are you afraid?”

“Scared shitless.”  Tears pricked my eyes, and I turned my head so that Bennie wouldn’t see them.  I stared up at the ceiling until it passed.  It was a little trick I’d learned from Peyton.  I don’t know why it worked, but it did.  I guess it was the same reason I couldn’t rub my head with my left hand while patting my belly with my right.  I could pat my head with my left hand while rubbing my rubbing my belly with my right.  It made no sense.  It’s just the way it worked.

“This Icarus guy, he’s one too?” Bennie asked, bending and picking up his palette knife.  He turned it in his hand, looking at the odd angle in which it had bent.

“Yeah.”

“Is he friends with Marcus?”

“No.  They’re rivals.  We were in his territory when Marcus attacked me.  He—his cousins—they might’ve saved me.  I can’t be sure because I blacked
out, but Marcus wasn’t himself.”  Which was a serious understatement.  “I think he would’ve killed me.”

“Then he can help you?”

“He doesn’t really want me around.  The only reason he helped me to begin with was because he thought I was gonna die.  I was nothing but a sympathy case. I told you, he’s a domineering jerk.”

Bennie traced the silver hoop circling his lip with the tip of his tongue, a habit of his when he was problem solving.  “
Thale, if he didn’t want to be burdened, he would’ve washed his hands of you.  You’re out of his territory now.  You’re not his problem anymore.  Yet, he came here today and invited you to return.”

“He came here under his cousin’s duress!  They’ve threatened to disown him!”

“Does that matter?” Bennie asked.  “What alternative do you have?”

“None, Bennie!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands up in exasperation.  “What part of ‘I’m in trouble’ don’t you understand?”

“Ok, ok,” Bennie ceded.  “We’ll figure something out.  We have a week.”  Bending his palette knife back into shape, he returned it to the tin can holding his oil brushes beside the easel.  “We could get you a shock collar, and every time you try to leave the room—ZAP!  No?  Ok.  I see that was a bad idea.”  Again, he circled his lip ring.  “We could muzzle you?”

“Not funny.”

“We could do clicker training.  If we start now, maybe some of it might stick when you turn.  If you don’t like that, I heard a squirt bottle works too.”

“Squirt bottles are for cats, lame brain.”

“Then we’ll chain you in the basement.  I bet we could find a stylish pink leather collar with spikes on it.  Pet smart has everything.”

I scowled in response.

“All kidding aside,” Bennie said earnestly. Dropping beside me onto the bed, he took my hand.  “We’ll figure something out.”

“I know, Bennie,” I said, hugging him.  “I can always count on you.”  Letting him go, I turned for the window.  “I’m going to take a nap.  Do me a favor and don’t let me sleep too long.  I don’t want to be up all night.”

“Quid pro quo,” Bennie qualified.

“Shoot.”

“Try to remember what you dream of.  I always wondered.  Frank has a Labrador, and when he dreams, his legs start twitching like he’s chasing something.  Sometimes he barks too.  I just want to know if it’s rabbits or sheep he dreams about.”

I paled.  The answer was neither.  It was people.

Mom didn’t argue with me about skipping school.  I told her I would go back Tuesday when most of the rumors had waned.  She acquiesced, citing the dark circles beneath my eyes were surely the start of the flu.  Wink wink.  Maybe I could squeeze Tuesday out of her too.

On the other hand, she did seize the opportunity to confront me about my accusations upon my return the day before.  “Thale,” Mom began, and I sighed, dropping my head dolefully over my breakfast plate.  “What I said to your father was taken out of context.  I hadn’t expected anyone to hear.”

I ground my teeth.  “Well, they did.”

“I know, and I’d like to explain myself.  Your father, as you can wholly imagine, was concerned about leaving you with all those boys.  They are all exceptionally good looking, and close to your age.”

“And you assured that it was a moot point since I was gay?”

“I also expressed the possibility that you were the reincarnation of St. Agnes, the patron saint of chastity.  I was being facetious in my effort to console your father.  I’m sorry that I hurt your feelings, but the truth is I allowed you to stay there unsupervised because I trusted you.”

“Oh,” I said meekly.

Mom smiled.  “The boys hadn’t heard that part, huh?”

“No,” I said, stabbing at my scrambled eggs.  “I’m sure they heard you; they just chose to believe I was gay rather than virtuous.  It’s so typical that boys think that because you’re blonde and buxom that you’re dense and easy too.”

“Oh honey!” Mom cooed, reaching between her Mealey’s mug and my glass of orange juice.  Grasping my hand, she squeezed it tightly.  “Try not to be bitter.  You’re too young to take life so seriously.”

“At this point, I have fair right to be bitter, Mom.”

“Yes, I suppose you do,” Mom concurred.  “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“I was young once too, Thale.  I’ll try to keep an open mind.”

I glanced at my mom apprehensively, but gave her the benefit of the doubt.  “Do you think that if I had slept with Marcus, that he wouldn’t have cheated on me?”

Mom hesitated, contemplating the question.  She took her time, sipping her coffee.  “I think the question you need to ask yourself is did you love him?”

I rolled my eyes.  “Don’t all teenagers think they’re in love with every boy they date?”

“I suppose, but you were vociferous about Michael Dougherty back in your sophomore year, and you had dreamy eyes over him.  I’ve never seen you that expressive over Marcus in the year that you were together.”

“So you think
I was
too reserved with Marcus.”

Mom sighed plaintively.  “What I’m trying to say is that maybe, if only subconsciously, you recognized that you weren’t in love with him, and that kept you from pursuing a physical relationship with hi
m.  In that, I’m proud of you, honey, because when you sleep with someone, it’s because you care for him, and you want to celebrate the love you share.  You need to feel it here first.”  My mom patted her heart.  “Not the other way around.  No amount of sex is going to make you feel something you don’t.  It’s when you’ve ignored that, that you regret your relationships.”

“Funny, I still regret our relationship.”

“Betrayal hurts no matter what level of relationship you shared.”

I dropped my head and shoveled my mouth full of eggs and potatoes, hoping Mom would take the hint.  I didn’t feel like taking the conversation any further.  We usually broached any uncomfortable subjects with humor and sarcasm and then moved on quickly to a less painful topic.  This was the most intense conversation we’d exchanged in my eighteen years of life and I was glad for it to be finished.

“I need to get to the office,” Mom said, standing and placing her mug in the sink.  “If you need anything, or if you just want to talk, give me a call.”

“I will.”

Mom gazed at me thoughtfully and ran her fingers through my hair.  “It’ll get better, honey.  I promise.”

“I know, Mom.  I love you.  Dr
ive safe.”  Having lost my appetite, I saw her off to work.  I gave her a kiss and a hug.  A long hug.  The kind that said ‘I appreciate you’ even when I’m acting like an unruly teenager.  I didn’t dole those hugs often enough.

As she
pulled out of the driveway, I locked the front door.  My house never felt so vacant, with only the tick of the grandfather clock and rustle of leaves to fill the silence.

Dropping my iPod in the dock, I selected Radiohead and turned up the volume, infusing the silence with
the droll melody of Fake Plastic Trees.

Filling my parent’s Jacuzzi tub
to the rim, I sank to my neck in the hot water and kicked the jets on.  My resolve was that when I returned to school tomorrow, I’d look like a million bucks.  I refused to be the tragic victim of Marcus’s infidelity, walking around zombie-like in my best sweats with dark circles beneath my eyes.  I didn’t want the whispers and stares, or the fake pity of my classmates.  Gloria Gaynor began belting out ‘I Will Survive’ in the back of my mind, bolstering my self-esteem.  I liked Cake’s cover better, but it did the job.

Unfortunately, an indeterminable time later, after listening to ‘Karma Police,’ ‘Creep,’ and ‘How to Disappear Completely,’ I wondered if it wasn’t some kind of sign from a higher being.  Yes, Higher Beings.  It would be stubborn of me to discount the possibilities now.

Werewolves, yay.  Gods and celestial higher beings, nay.  I’d be a hypocrite.

Disparaged and wrinkled as a prune, I climbed from the tepid bath.  That’s when I heard the track change in the middle of a song.  Puddle of Mud began spouting ‘She Fucking Hates Me’ and I knew it was no coincidence.  None other than Lord Icarus had broken into my house for an unsolicited visit.  Broiling, I snatched a towel from the vanity and strode toward my bedroom, detouring to my dad’s dresser along the way.

“What are you doing in my house?”  Icarus, facing the stereo, turned toward me, his smile fading as he saw the Beretta nestled expertly in my grip.  I lowered my aim at his crotch.  The gun was unloaded and I had the safety engaged, but he didn’t need to know that.  “You know this is breaking and entering.  If I shot you right now, it would be self defense.”

I thought he was wearing the same clothes as the day before, but maybe he had multiples because they weren’t wrinkled.  I knew guys like that in school, who owned dozen black tees and a dozen matching holey jeans.  Only Icarus chose khaki linen chinos and a white tee.

“I brought you breakfast.”  As a peace offering, he held up a small, white bakery box tied with a thin ecru string.  “If I’d known you felt so strongly against muffins, I would’ve brought you doughnuts instead,” he quipped.

“Why are you here?  I thought I made it clear I didn’t want your help.”

“Thaleia, I know you’re angry with me, but I swear I didn’t come here to argue.  Now, can you please put that down?  My testicles are ascending back into my abdominal cavity.  They haven’t been there since before birth and it’s altogether an uncomfortable feeling.”

“Well it’s altogether an uncomfortable feeling when someone you barely know is threatening to poke you in the ass.”

“You’re inclined to hold grudges, aren’t you?”

“It’s a newly acquired habit.”

“It was necessary at the time.  I was trying to teach you a lesson.”

I smiled dryly,
refining my aim.  “Lesson learned.”

“Touché.”

Sitting the Beretta atop my bureau, I fished my best pair of panties, a cami and a pair of satin pajama pants from my drawer.  I had soft fleece pants I liked much better, but it appeared I had company.  And I didn’t think he would take me seriously in florescent pink bunny pants.

“Make yourself comfortable,” I told him as I headed for the bathroom to dress.  I returned a few minutes later, clothed and flushed from drying my hair.  Icarus was sitting at my children’s French vanity picking apart a muffin, looking completely at home.

“Staying in today?” he inquired, noting my attire.  As expected, he approved of the satin pants and lace cami with an exhaustive once over.  Eat your heart out Icarus.  Look while you can.  This is what you turned down, what you’ll never lay eyes on again.

“I took a mental health day.”

“Then you’re planning on going to school tomorrow,” he said disapprovingly.  The corners of his mouth twisted into a frown that he had no right to bear.  “Didn’t I warn you it was dangerous to leave the house, or are you doing it just to spite me?”

“That’s none of your business.  If I recall correctly, you kicked me out.  But then you made it clear you didn’t want me there in the first place.”

“You disobeyed me.”

My mouth popped open.  “You were going to beat me with a wooden spoon!”

“Christ, what I wouldn’t give to do it right now!”

“Try it!” I shouted, standing my ground.  My hands moved to my hips.

Impatiently, he snarled, pacing away and then back again.  “Do you see why this will never work?  You persistently defy me, putting yourself at risk, which in turn will put my family at risk!  Am I to make a choice between you and the twins, or Crispin for that matter?”

“Then why are you here?  I gave you the perfect opportunity to bow out.”

Startling me, he grasped my arms and brought his mouth down on mine.  His lips were firm and soft, and his breath warm against my skin.  My eyes widened in surprise and then fell gently closed as he parted his lips, his tongue claiming my mouth with a greedy thrust.  I moaned, sinking against him, clinging to his shirt for support.  It felt as my bones had come unhinged.  My legs went rubbery beneath me.  By the time he pulled away, I was thoroughly ravished.  My lips plump and swollen.  My cheeks prickled from his shadow of dark stubble.

Leaning his forehead against mine, he took a deep breath.  “You drive me crazy,
Thaleia Llorente.  You disregard every word I say.  You show no respect.  You’re disobedient, and single minded—What?  You’re not?” he asked when I glared up from under my lashes.  “You asked me to kill you yesterday!  You find respecting my rules worse than death?”

“I find making you choose between me and your family worse than death.”

“Then do as I say.”

“I don’t know if I can do that.  I’m not built that way.”

“Then I’ll teach you.  We’ll start small.  Easy commands.  It’ll build up the trust between us. Before long, you’ll do as I say without a second thought.”

“And if I slip?”

“This is for your own safety,” Icarus chided.  “You overstep your bounds, and I’ll be quick to put you in your place.  And next time, I won’t be imposing household chores on you.  They’ve proven ineffective as a punishment where you’re concerned.”

“I can’t believe I’m even discussing this with you,” I demurred, pushing away from him.  He didn’t release me, however, but tightened his grip, holding me tight against his chest.  “I must be crazy.  My parents never even imposed a
corporal punishment on me.”

“Start small, remember?  Should we try it for measure?  A trial run per se?”

“What,
spanking
me?”

Icarus broke out in a rolling
laugh, causing my face to turn red.  “Conforming, Thaleia, though what I wouldn’t give to tan your hide.”

“Doesn’t matter.  It’s a negative to both,” I grumbled in another attempt to wrench myself from his grasp.  A mere kiss and I was submitting to
him again.  I didn’t even like him!

“Enough!” he demanded with mock severity.  I stilled in his arms, though it had nothing to do with tickle in my skull.  A delayed thought occurred to me.  He didn’t like me either.  He’d only kissed me so that I’d submit.  When force and aggression didn’t subdue me, he figured a little cajoling might work.  And for a moment, it almost did.

“Very good,” he praised, his tone teasing and light, unaware of my change in mood.  “Easy, right?  Painless.  No harm done.  Should we try again?  Now touch your nose.”

Lifting my right hand, I touched the tip of my nose with my middle finger.

Icarus smiled transiently, taking in my humorless expression.  To his credit, he looked genuinely contrite.  If I hadn’t known better, I might’ve believed him.  Fortunately, I knew this was all a ploy to regain his domination over me and save face with his cousins.

“I’d like you to go.”

Cupping my face, he skimmed my cheekbone with the rough pad of his thumb.  “I’m trying here, Thaleia.  Really, I am.  But you have to meet me half way.  It’ll take both of our efforts to make this work.”

“I don’t know what world you live in, but I have no interest in yielding to you again.  If you thought kissing me was going to change that, you must really think I’m naive.  Now, I’d like you to go.”

Stung by the vehemence of my words, Icarus released me.  I placed some much-needed distance between us.  He’d kissed me.  I wasn’t impervious.  You’d have to be obtuse to walk away from Icarus unaffected.  I was lucky to walk at all.  As it stood, it took every ounce of strength to refrain from sitting on the edge of my bed to rest my wobbly knees.

Likewise unsettled, Icarus paced the room.  “
I,” he emphasized, “want you to come back.  Not because of the twins or Crispin, or Lucius, Max or Hailey.  Just so that that’s clear.”