Harbinger (The Bleeding Worlds) (5 page)

“Easy, don’t overdo it. From what the chart says, you’ve had a hell of a time.” The man said, his voice warm and full—baritone with hearty low notes. A slight lilt accompanied his words, some accent long abandoned but not forgotten.

“What happened?” It hurt even to talk. Gwynn wished he had slept longer.

The stranger pulled a pen light from his pocket and clicked it on. He leaned over and shone the light in Gwynn’s eyes.

“Do me a favor. I’m going to hold the light in front of you. Follow it with your eyes.”

The light moved side to side. It stung worse than the fluorescents.

“Do you remember your name?” The man asked.

“Gwynn. Gwynn Dormath.”

The light clicked off and the stranger gave Gwynn a long, probing look. “My name’s Pridament Alcandre. I’m a doctor here at the hospital, though I’m not on your case. When I heard your name, I had to check. I knew your parents years ago. I went to university with your dad. I’ve checked in on you the past couple days, but I haven’t seen them.”

“They…died. In a car accident.” It didn’t matter how much time passed, admitting his parents were gone still hurt like hell. His physical pain paled in comparison.

The man, Pridament, swept his hand through his bushy brown hair and let out a remorseful sigh. He gave his short–cropped beard a long, thoughtful stroke. “I’m sorry to hear that. They were wonderful people. So who are you living with now?”

“My mom’s sister, Jaimie.”

“Really?” Pridament’s voice rose in surprise. “I didn’t know her, but from what your mom and dad used to say, she didn’t strike me as being very…maternal.”

Gwynn couldn’t help chuckling. Waves of pain and nausea ripped through him. “Oww. I mean, yeah, she’s not exactly. Still, she’s been great. I’m lucky to have her.”

“I hope you tell her that.” Pridament said with a parental air.

Gwynn made a painful shift in the bed, his mind returning to its purpose. “You didn’t answer my question.” Gwynn huffed. “What happened?”

Concern filled Pridament’s gaze. “You don’t remember any of it?”

“It’s hazy.” Gwynn tried to search his mind, but his jumbled memories read like a book written backward. Recognizable enough to decipher, but foreign enough that it wouldn’t give up its story without effort.

“All I know are the sketchy news reports.” Pridament said. He rubbed his temples. “An explosion happened at an abandoned house outside of town. Two teenagers sustained injuries and were taken to hospital. A third person, a homeless man, died. What
really
happened there, that’s up to you.”

Wheels clicked into motion in Gwynn’s brain. Images splashed across his mind’s eye in a rapid and painful succession. Pridament’s words gave him the most important cue. “Sophia.”

“I’m sorry?”

The memory of pain kept Gwynn still, but he wanted to leap from the bed and tear through the hospital searching for her. “Sophia Murray. She must’ve been the other person brought in with me. Is she okay? Can I see her?”

Pridament held up his hands. “Whoa, slow down. First, I’m guessing she is fine. Everything I heard said you were the worse of the two. Second, and this is another reason I think she’s okay, no you can’t see her because she was discharged yesterday.”

Gwynn drew a deep breath. He tried to quell the anxiety that made his legs jumpy. “You’re sure?”

Pridament shook his head. “I wish I could tell you I was. Like I said, I just overheard things. Once I knew it was you, I let a few docs know. They’ve kept me in the loop. All I know for certain is that her injuries weren’t that severe and she left the hospital yesterday.”

“Good.” Fatigue wrapped its soft fingers around him. “That’s good.”

Pridament gently clasped Gwynn’s bandaged hand. A stranger whose touch should’ve been foreign and unwelcome. Instead, a feeling of calm emanated from it. The stirring in his soul eased.

“I need to do something.” Pridament said, his voice soft, comforting, but tinged with a current of earnest concern. “It’s very important that I remove the bandages from your right arm and inspect it.”

His arm. Despite Pridament’s voice and the calming touch of his hand, the mere mention of Gwynn’s arm flared his anxiety. Clouded memories hovered just out of reach, dark storm clouds threatening unknown terrors.

“But…you said you weren’t my doctor. Why would you do that?”

Pridament locked eyes with Gwynn. His touch and voice were calming, but his eyes showed fear. “I need to see your arm. If I’m right, if I see what I think is there, then I’m the only person who can help you. I won’t do it without your say–so.” Pridament’s grip on Gwynn’s hand tightened. “If I’m right, and you wait until your doctor takes those bandages off, you’ll need someone here who can explain what you’re seeing.”

Gwynn’s stomach knotted. Every muscle tensed, sending waves of ache and stabbing pain. Anxiety didn’t describe it. No, fear had penetrated deep into his soul. Doubt and a sense that whatever lay beneath the bandages would change everything, fed that fear. But why should he feel that way? And this man, who claimed to know his parents. What proof did he have? Should he trust him?

“You said you knew my parents?” What could he ask Pridament? What would a true friend of his parents know? “How did they meet?”

Pridament gave a gentle laugh. “How did they meet, or how did they discover they were in love?”

That answer kept Gwynn’s fear at bay. The confidence in Pridament’s tone, the knowledge that there
was
a difference between the two things. Yes, he did know the story. But Gwynn wanted to hear it. “How they met.”

Pridament shook his head, his smile widening. “Now I have to wonder, what version have you heard? I can’t imagine you were told the whole story.”

Gwynn gave a pained laugh. “Jaimie told me the uncensored version a few years ago.”

“Fair enough. So your dad, he was at York University at the time. That’s where he and I met. Both of us drifting through a general BA ‘cause we had no idea what to do with our lives. We were at the Absinthe pub in the Winters residence. Place was dark wood, dingy, a hangout for arty types. We were only there the one time. I think maybe because everywhere else was too busy. Anyway, your dad, he’s had more than his fair share of beer. This girl walks into the bar—”

“Mom.”

“Hey kid, who’s telling the story? But, yes, your mom walks into the bar. She is wearing this little black dress that has, uh, well; let’s just say she looked
good
. So your dad, catching sight of her, jumps up on a table and starts reciting some of the worst poetry I’ve ever heard. I mean, I don’t know if he wrote it, or read it in some bargain basement book, but wow, it was cheesy. Now, he’s not just saying it, he’s performing. He’s got his hand over his heart; he’s reaching to the Gods screaming thanks that they have brought this beautiful creature to earth. Anyway, your mom isn’t impressed. If anything, she’s pissed.” Pridament laughed full on, tears streaming down his face. He had to stop and take the odd breath between words. “So, your dad gets a little too energetic in his performance and the table falls over, sending him falling on his ass. But he’s so drunk, he doesn’t even notice. He gets up on his feet, saunters over to your mom, and plants a big kiss right on her lips.”

“And she…?” Gwynn loved the punch line.

“Kicked him so hard in the nuts he puked all over her.”

Gwynn’s body convulsed with his laughter. “I can’t believe they ended up together after that.”

“Well, it took some time, and your dad
could
be quite the charmer. When he was sober.”

They laughed for a while.

Pridament quieted, sadness creeping into his eyes. “I should’ve done more. I shouldn’t have let that relationship go. I transferred to another school to pursue medicine. Your dad stayed for law. We talked a little, traded the odd email over the years, but we never were as close as we could’ve been. I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thanks.” The memory of his parents. When would it get less painful? “Go ahead.”

“Go ahead?”

Gwynn gave a little shrug. “My arm. Look at it. If there’s something wrong, I’d rather be here with someone who knew my parents. Besides Jaimie, that’s as close to family as I get.”

“Jaimie’s been here every day. I’m sure something came up.”

“I’m sure she has. Probably work. Seems they can never go a full week without her going in.”

Pridament drew a breath. “Okay, here we go.”

The bandages went right up to Gwynn’s fingers. Pridament maneuvered around, searching for the best place to start. He ended up cutting from the elbow down. Pridament eased the wrapping up just a little to move his scissors along. The tender skin howled and burned with the extra irritation. Gwynn panted, trying to ignore the arm.

“I’m almost there. Just hang on another second.”

As Pridament promised, the tugging and pulling soon ended.

Gwynn couldn’t, wouldn’t, look. His fear heightened when Pridament let out an involuntary “damn.”

“What is it?” He kept his eyes averted.

The visitor’s chair groaned as Pridament flopped back. The man sighed. “It means we need to have a long talk.”

He didn’t want to see. But the unknown suffocated him more than any truth he could think of. He turned his head to inspect his arm.

It took everything in him not to scream.

Something, or someone, had carved his arm up. It remained intact, but covered in odd symbols from his elbow to his fingers. They were like nothing he’d seen. Combinations of shapes and foreign looking letters. It reminded him of the heady math equations geniuses solved in movies.

“Why…” His voice a wreck of fear, anger and tears. “Why would anyone do something like that?”

Pridament took his hand again. The same sense of calm, no, security, emanated from it. “No one did this to you Gwynn. This is your body reacting to something inside of you.”

“Inside of me?” Gwynn was incredulous. “What could be inside of me that would do this shit to my arm?”

With his free hand, Pridament rubbed at his temples. “I’m going to tell you, but you won’t believe me at first. No one ever does. If you trust me, if you give me time to show you, I will prove that everything I say is true.”

The fight drained from Gwynn’s body in a rush. Sorrow took hold. An impetuous decision, chasing after something he had no right to claim, had left him scarred again. At the age of seven, he trespassed on the old Wilson farm and sliced his abdomen on the barbed fence. Being impulsive, crossing over into worlds you had no right to be in, led to pain and scars. But how did scarring like this happen? If Pridament had the answers, would it clear the cloudy nightmare Halloween night had become?

“Tell me what you know,” Gwynn’s words were slow and labored, “I’ll give you a chance.”

Pridament paused. He seemed to be searching for the right words. “Thousands of years ago, a group of people were born that had special abilities. They were elevated to godhood. The masses of normals praised and worshipped them. In their own way, those special people tried to be good and benevolent gods. They called themselves the Anunnaki. Over time, others were born with similar powers. In some cases, people raised them up as gods through adoration. Others assumed the role through force. While still many others chose to hide their abilities. All over the world, patches of these people appeared. Our modern world remembers them as the Olympians, the Aesir, and the gods of Egypt.”

“So what does that have to do with me?”

“Those people,” Pridament said, nodding toward Gwynn’s arm, “were marked the same way you are.”

“So you’re saying I’m one of these people?” His mind reeled. When Pridament said he wouldn’t believe, he had no idea just how outrageous the story would be. Him? Gwynn Dormath a god? What a bad joke. He would’ve said so to Pridament, would’ve told him to save the fairy tales for toddlers, but nothing but conviction resided in the older man’s voice and eyes. Yes, he understood what he said sounded foolish and impossible. But he believed every word of it.

“I know. It was a lot easier to believe in a world not dominated by science. The truth is, science is very much behind this. You see—”

“What the HELL is going on here?” A male voice—old leather worn through years of smoke and alcohol.

Pridament made a startled jump to his feet. “Please, let me explain.”

“I think you damned well better.” This man’s grey and thinning hair made him look much older than Pridament. He wore thick glasses that fell halfway down his hawkish nose. His attire marked him as a doctor.

Pridament extended his hand, which the other doctor showed no interest in taking. After an awkward minute, Pridament withdrew his hand. “I’m Doctor Alcandre, Pridament. I was friends with Gwynn’s parents.”

The older doctor looked to Gwynn, who nodded his agreement.

“It’s true. He knew them.”

“Well, I’m Doctor Saduj. I’ve been overseeing Gwynn’s care since he arrived. While I’m fine with you visiting my patient, doctor, I’m wondering how you can justify removing the dressings on his arm.”

“When he came out of the coma, he started tearing at it. He seemed in a great deal of distress. When I got him calmed down, he said that it felt like it was on fire. I removed the bandages so that I could see what was happening.”

Had Pridament practiced that very speech just in case? Even knowing it as a lie, Gwynn thought it sounded flawless and convincing.

“What did you find?”

Gwynn couldn’t shake the odd feeling that being around Pridament made this Doctor Saduj uncomfortable.

“Just as you see. Scarred, but no obvious issue. Once he got over the shock of seeing the scars, the sensation ceased. It might have been merely psychosomatic.”

Doctor Saduj scratched the top of his nose and pushed his glasses further up. “Well, nonetheless, let’s not make butting into other doctor’s cases a habit, shall we Doctor?”

“Yes, absolutely.”

Pridament came closer to Gwynn and gave his hand a gentle squeeze. “I should let Doctor Saduj do his job now. As soon as I can, I’ll come back and finish our conversation. Deal?”

“Yes.” He said the word, but felt conflicted. Did he want the conversation to continue? It meant that either he was a freak, or an old friend of his parents was insane. Neither option seemed appealing.