Nocturnal (67 page)

Rex looked at his gray-muzzled warrior with a new respect. Everything in these tunnels, every room, every brick, every person — it was all here because of
him
. Firstborn had brought the people back from disaster.

“The rules keep us safe,” Firstborn said. “Sometimes the prey has money. The ringers use that money to buy what they can, but most of our food comes the way it always has, from hunting.”

Hunting
. The word sent a shiver through Rex’s spine, made his stomach tingle. He remembered the thrill of stalking Alex all the way to April’s house. Rex had
needed
that. The feeling had faded with Alex’s death, but the urge was calling once again.

Sly had sat silent during the story. Now he leaned forward and rested his elbows on the black table.

“Our history is important,” he said to Firstborn. “But it’s just that —
history
. You’re forgetting the parts where you ruled like a tyrant, where you didn’t just kill babies, you killed people who hunted without your permission.”

“We
must not
be discovered,” Firstborn said. “That is what drove every decision I made.”

Sly rolled his eyes. “Whatever, old man. You’re so brave? Then why do you let Savior slaughter our people?” Sly turned to stare at Rex. “Savior is nothing but a
bully
, my king. And Firstborn lets Savior live.”

Bullies. Rex thought of Alex, Issac, Jay and Oscar. He thought of Roberta.

Firstborn’s eyes narrowed. “You know nothing. My way
works
. You are too young to understand.”

Sly stood and snarled. “We
cower
. We are murdered and you … do … 
nothing
! You forbade us from attacking Savior, from killing the walking nightmare.”

Firstborn looked away and waved a hand dismissively. “Everyone knows that Savior kills anyone who tries. To attack him is suicide.”

“Lies!”
Sly pounded a fist against his chest. “If I die trying to kill the killer of my people, that is a life better spent than burrowing in the dirt like a worm.” He turned to face Rex. “Savior is hurt, my king. If we could find Savior before he heals, we could end the monster’s murdering ways
forever
.”

Rex felt Sly’s anger, felt it and shared it. Maybe Firstborn didn’t know what it was like to be bullied. Firstborn was big and strong. He’d been in charge so long, he couldn’t possibly understand what it felt like to live every day in fear.

“Savior is devious,” Firstborn said. “He is probably trying to trick us, Sly, tyring to lure us in so he can follow you home and kill Mommy.”

Rex looked carefully at Firstborn. The man was lying about something, Rex could tell. What Firstborn said didn’t make sense — if they killed Savior, then the people could hunt without fear. Firstborn had secrets. To keep the people safe, he had killed his own kind for over a century. What else had he done? What else had he allowed to happen?

“Sly is right,” Rex said. “If you
really
wanted to protect the people, you would kill Savior.”

“We have tried,” Firstborn said. “Savior kills all who go against him.”

Sly crossed his arms and shook his head. He was angry, but also excited — he finally had a chance to say what he wanted to say. “That is not so, my king. Some have gone off on their own and never come back. But others have tried, failed, and come back Home — when they did,
Firstborn
killed them to send a warning to everyone else.”

Firstborn stared down at the table. Rex didn’t have to ask if the accusation was true — it was clear he had done what Sly said. Rex could
feel
emotions inside of Firstborn: rage, shame, a horrible burden of responsibility … 
loneliness
.

Rex stood and walked to the other end of the table. Hillary stepped aside. Rex put his hand on Firstborn’s muscled, furred forearm and gave a little squeeze. “Tell me why. Tell me the truth.”

Firstborn looked up, big green eyes hard at first, then softening. There was desparation in those eyes, even
relief —
he had been a villain to his own people, and now he finally had a chance to share the reason.

“We
need
Savior,” he said. “Sometimes the urge to hunt becomes too
much for some of us. When it does, soldiers hunt beyond the need for food. They hunt just to
kill
, over and over again. They draw attention. If the police find these rogue soldiers, these
insane
soldiers, then the police are that much closer to discovering us again,
slaughtering
us again. By killing the rogue soldiers, Savior unknowingly keeps our secret safe.”

Rex let go of Firstborn’s arm.
That
was why he let Savior kill? To remove people who disobeyed Firstborn’s orders? A true leader — a true
king —
would let no one hurt his people.

He walked back to his seat. “Do the police know about Savior?”

“Of course,” Sly said, disgust thick in his words. “The police help him kill our brothers.”

The police and Savior, nothing but bullies who wanted to hurt and kill Rex’s people. “Sly, how do you know Savior is hurt?”

“I told Tard to watch his house.”

Firstborn stood up. “I gave orders that
no one
was to go near the monster’s house!”

Rex pointed at him. “Sit
down!
Your orders don’t count anymore unless I say so!”

Firstborn’s lip curled, showing the edge of a tooth, but he sat.

Rex let out a slow breath. People shouldn’t do stuff to make him mad like that. “Do we know where Savior is?”

Sir Voh skittered to the middle of the table. “The police will know,” he said. “Tard said cop cars came to his house and followed the ambulance that took him away.”

Rex leaned back in his chair. “Do all the police know about us?”

“We think only some,” the little creature said. “If all the police knew, the newspeople would probably talk about us but they never do. Fewer people knowing makes it easier to control information.”

“So then which ones know?”

Sir Voh shrugged his tiny shoulders, a comical expression considering his much larger head. “We have no way of knowing.”

“Sure we do,” Sly said. His yellow eyes narrowed in time with his smile. “When you wanted to know the secrets of Marie’s Children, you asked Firstborn — you asked our leader. We can do the same with the police.”

That made sense. If there was some kind of secret among the police, a pact or whatever, then someone high up would probably know about it. Why not start at the top?

“I won’t let the police bully us,” Rex said. “We’ll get their leader to tell us what she knows. As soon as it’s dark, we visit the chief of police.”

Hillary stared at Rex like she couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “We can’t do that. To go after the chief of
police
? It is madness.”

Then Firstborn spoke, softly and slowly. “My king, doing that could expose us to discovery.”

They wanted to be safe, to play along with the way things had always been?
No
. Firstborn and Hillary had grown too old to do what had to be done. Maybe that was what happened after so long without a king.

Now that a king was here, the way things had always been done wasn’t good enough anymore. That night, things would change.

A
ggie James was alone in the white dungeon. If he’d been a religious man, he would have prayed, but he knew there was no God. God wouldn’t have let his wife and daughter be murdered right in front of him. God wouldn’t have allowed these monsters to exist. And if God did exist and allowed these things to happen, Aggie sure as fuck wasn’t going to worship him.

So while he didn’t
pray
, he most certainly
hoped
that he could get out of this horrible place.

The white jail cell door slowly screeched open. Hillary entered, alone, carrying a heavy knit bag and a familiar-looking, familiar
-smelling
blanket. But there was a new scent … faint, just a tiny sensation in his nose. It smelled beautiful.

Hillary walked up to him. She held the bag out by its handles, offering it to him. “Are you ready to help me?”

“If you’ll let me out of here, hell yes.” Aggie took the knit bag and opened it. Inside … a baby?

A sleeping baby boy with deep black skin, far blacker than Aggie’s, the skin of a child from lower Africa. He was swaddled in a blanket marked with crudely drawn symbols. One symbol looked like a triangle with an eye in the middle, another seemed to be a circle with a jagged lightning bolt through it.

“You take this boy,” Hillary said. “I thought the king would make things right, but he is going to do dangerous things. And Firstborn, I think he will try to kill the king. If he succeeds, then he will come for me. I have to act while I still can, get one more baby out.”

She stopped talking. She just stared at the child, as if she forgot that Aggie was even there.

“Uh, Hillary?”

Her eyes snapped up. She blinked, seemed to come back to the moment. “I am going to hide you and the baby somewhere.”

“Somewhere up on the surface?”

“No,” she said. “A special hiding place. You will stay there with the boy until I come to take you above.”

Aggie nodded violently even though he didn’t really understand. “Yes, I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She smiled a smile of power. “Of course you will.” She unfolded the
smelly blanket and draped it around Aggie. “You wear this and be quiet, just like you did yesterday.”

He nodded. He really had no idea if he’d last seen her yesterday, the day before or just a few hours ago.

She finished adjusting the blanket, tugging and twisting in her motherly way. “Good,” she said. “Now hold him close.
Very
close.”

Aggie pulled the baby-filled bag to his chest. Whatever this kid was, it was evil. Aggie would play along, say whatever he had to say, do whatever he had to do until he got out of here. Then he could toss the baby into the bay for all he cared about it.

He smelled that beautiful smell again. It was the baby … the smell came from the baby.

“Time to leave,” Hillary said. “Follow me.”

“Where are we going?”

“You know the place,” she said. “We are going back to the arena.”

B
ryan drove Pookie’s Buick, following the Jessups’ jet-black, highly modified Dodge Magnum station wagon. Passing streetlights cast sliding reflections off the Magnum’s polished body. Bryan had never really thought a station wagon could be sweet. The customized Magnum, however, would make any gangsta wannabe green with envy. It rode on black chrome rims. Tinted windows hid the inside from view. Pull-out drawers packed the cargo area, hidden from view by the rear hatch. Bryan could only imagine what kind of arsenal the grandfather/grandson team had stashed away in the back of that car.

Adam, oddly, drove like an old lady: slow, obeying every traffic light and sign, giving people plenty of room to pass him if need be. Bryan didn’t know much about cars, but even following behind he could hear the Magnum’s engine gurgling with unused power.

The Magnum turned south on five-lane Potrero Avenue. Two-story houses and small trees passed by on Bryan’s right. Just a few blocks now. He had time for one quick call. He dialed. She answered immediately.

“Hello?”

How could just the sound of her voice make him feel better? “Hey.”

“Bryan, are you okay?”

“Sure. Didn’t you get my note?”

She paused. “I did. Thank you for that. But a nice note and a pot of coffee aren’t a replacement for knowing that you’re okay.”

“I’m okay.” He wasn’t sure if that was the truth, but it was what she needed to hear. “I just wanted to check in.”

She didn’t say anything. He waited. Up ahead, he saw SFGH coming up on the left.

“Robin, I gotta go. Erickson might be in trouble tonight.”

“Forget him,” she said. “Come get me and we’ll just go.”

“What are you talking about?”

“All this death,” she said. “You and I could just leave, Bryan. We get in my car, we pick a direction, and we go. Together.”

She was afraid for him. Or maybe she was afraid of what he might do. The sentiment broke his heart, but her solution wasn’t an option.

“Robin, I can’t.”

She sighed. “I know. I hope we don’t regret it.” Her tone of voice changed again, from melancholy to business-like. “Listen, I’ve been
trying to figure out what happened to you. When you were a kid, you had the usual cuts and scrapes, right?”

“Sure,” he said.

“And this rapid healing thing, that’s new?”

“Yeah. I always seemed to heal a little faster than most people, but nothing like it is now.”

“It’s because your Zed chromosome was
suppressed
,” she said. “That means you had all this genetic information, but it was dormant, your body wasn’t doing anything with it. Basically, your Zed information was switched off.”

That didn’t seem possible. How could you have parts of your body that were shut off? Still, he wasn’t about to argue with an expert. “So what switched it on?”

“When you came to see me in the morgue, you were sick, right?
Really
sick, as in body aches, chest pains, all of that?”

How awful he had felt — the fever, the hammering aches, the joint pain. “Yeah, it was bad.”

“We need to take x-rays. I bet they’ll show the same strange organ we found in Blackbeard. I also bet we find your bones have changed, or at least are starting to change. The sickness was because your body underwent a
massive
physical transformation. The question is, when did you
start
to get sick?”

So much had happened in the past few days. It seemed like an eternity since he
hadn’t
been dealing with Erickson, Rex Deprovdechuk, the BoyCo kids, Father Paul …

 … that was it. The roof, where he smelled something that made him dizzy.

“I started getting sick the same day I saw Paul Maloney’s body.”

“Did Maloney’s body smell like urine?”

He nodded. “It did. Urine and something else I couldn’t identify. I started feeling crappy soon after that.”