Savior (The Savior Series Book 1) (23 page)

48. MOTIVES

THE SUSPECT:

THE AQUISITION WAS LESS THAN THREE YEARS AWAY, and I had hoped that my work was enough to grant me absolution. It was true that my hands were as dirty as the rest of the seven billion vermin that scurried about this rock, but at least I sought penance. At least I was working toward forgiveness.

It had been almost three years to that day since The Righteous had lifted the veil of my reality and for a fraction of a second, allowed me to see that which dwelled behind it. But I wanted more - much more. I wanted ever so desperately to experience firsthand that which he had shown me, but I knew it would come at a price. He had demanded the sacrifices of billions of lives in exchange for my rite of passage.

The time was almost at hand, but there was still much more work to be done. My Final Solution was still in its stages of infancy, but before we could move forward with my plans to make this world tear itself apart, I had to eliminate The Reaper. His abilities posed far too big of a threat for me to ignore.

I smiled as I realized that after Saturday I would no longer have to worry about him. My smile grew even wider as I contemplated the intricacies of the plans that I had for Saturday’s prom.

49. REUNION

REAPER:

I ALMOST COULDN’T BELIEVE MY EYES WHEN I STEPPED off the bus on Wednesday morning. Jason was already standing in our normal pre-breakfast spot just outside of the first entrance of the cafeteria, but it wasn’t him that surprised me. I could pick out Howie’s mop top from anywhere. He and Jason chatted away as I hurriedly approached them.

“Bro! When did you get back?!” I shouted. Howie whipped around and smiled from ear to ear.

“I was back in the state last night. I didn’t get back in town until a few hours ago though.”

I pulled him in for hug without replying. It was obvious that Jason and I both missed him tremendously. Howie was the kind of person that you could never truly appreciate until he wasn’t around for a while. Between The Strangers kidnapping him and Wells putting him into protective custody, it felt like I had almost lost him twice.

“Glad to have you back, brother,” I said as we continued our embrace.

“I think Monica may get jealous if you guys keep that up any longer,” Jason smirked.

I looked up and noticed Monica standing across from us on the other side of the crosswalk. She was smiling as she silently watched us.

I held up my index finger to let her know that I would be over in a few seconds. She nodded and continued to wait patiently as I released Howie and turned to Jason. We all looked to each other and beamed with the excitement of finally being back together again.

“I’ve gotta run, guys, but I’ll see you later at 3D. Deal?” I said.

“Deal,” Jason and Howie replied in unison.

“Birthday present,” Jason whispered after me as I walked over to join Monica. I chuckled and tried my best to ignore him as I joined her.

“What’s so funny?” Monica asked.

“Nothing. I was just thinking about something,” I lied. She narrowed her eyes and smiled, but I was happy that she didn’t push the issue.

“When did Howie get back?” she asked.

“Earlier this morning.”

“You don’t think it’s kind of weird for him to transfer schools this late in the semester then transfer back after two months?” she asked.

“No, he didn’t transfer. He was sick. I told you he was sick, didn’t I? It was…it was pretty serious,” I said without looking her in the eyes.

“Adam, you told me he transferred,” she said flatly. I was still avoiding eye contact, but I could tell by the sound of her voice that she was no longer smiling.

“Did I?” I blurted without thinking.

“Yes, you did, mister. Is there something you want to tell me, Adam?” she asked.

For a second, I thought she was angry but as I finally looked into her eyes, I realized that her expression displayed more concern than anger.

“It’s complicated,” I replied, carefully choosing my words. I didn’t want to lie to her anymore, but I didn’t want to tell her the truth and pull her further into the madness that had become my life. She was already close enough to the fire simply by being friends with me.

“That’s not good enough, Adam. We said we would be honest with each other, remember?”

“This is different,” I said.

“How? How is this different? Honesty is honesty. It applies to everything, not just the things that you're okay with me knowing,” she snapped. Her reply cut much deeper than she realized. Not only did this amplify the guilt that I felt for lying to her about Howie, but also the guilt I felt for not saving her father.

“Monica, you have to trust me on this. There are things that I want to tell you but I just can’t.”

“Why can’t you?” she demanded.

“Because it’s too dangerous,” I replied. As the concern in her expression turned to fear, I realized that I shouldn’t have said that. I wished that I could tell her that she didn’t have to fear for me. I wished that I could let her know that I could toss a couple thousand pounds as easily as I could tie my shoes or grab her and zoom away at over 100 miles per hour in order to show her that I was the last person she needed to fear for. But I could never show her what I could do. I could never show her my abilities because doing so would let her know that I was capable of saving her father on the night that he died. Doing so would make her think I was a murderer.

“What’s going on, Adam?” she demanded.

“It’s under control,” I said as I looked away. I needed to avoid eye contact lest I fall victim to that mesmerizing gaze of hers. I knew I was putty in her hands when she really wanted something from me. My heart sank as I felt her soft hand gently touch my right cheek. She lightly nudged my chin upward, forcing me to gaze into her eyes once more. I didn’t stand a chance as her smoldering amber eyes worked their magic on me.

“What aren’t you telling me, Adam?” she asked, “I’m only asking because I’m worried about you.”

Damn she’s good,
I thought as I felt her charm take hold of my inhibitions. I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was listening, then looked back to her. “Howie was placed in protective custody by the government. That’s why he left. He was being targeted by The Strangers.”

Her eyes grew wide with fear as she made the assumption that if Howie was in danger, I must have been too. “What-How- I mean-” she was so scared that her words were rushing out all at once.

I placed my hands on her shoulders, which seemed to calm her. “Monica, I’m fine, and so is Howie. If he was still in danger, they wouldn’t have let him come back,” I lied.

“But they’re still out there. How can he be safe? How can you be safe? I can’t do this, Adam. I can’t. I can’t lose you too!” she sobbed.

“It’ll all be over soon, honey. Trust me. Nothing is going to happen to me,” I said as I pulled her head into my chest and embraced her.

“Is this why you can’t come to the prom with me on Saturday?” she asked.

“Yes, but I still don’t want you to go alone. I know Matt Connors likes you. I’m okay if you go with him, but let me know if he tries anything so I can have Jason beat him up again,” I smirked. I was hoping that she would laugh at my joke, but she didn’t respond.

“Maybe we can meet up later that night, though. We could hang out at Lake Victoria if that’s okay with you,” I said, hoping it would lift her spirits. She finally lifted her head from my chest and smiled.

“That sounds great, mister. I almost thought I wouldn’t have a chance to give you your birthday present,” she chimed.

I raised an eyebrow and grinned as I thought of my conversation with Jason.

“What are you smiling for?” she asked, pulling me out of my trance.

“Nothing,” I said without looking into her eyes.

“Adam?” she asked firmly.

I peeked at her and, just as I expected, she was doing that mesmerizing stare that she always did whenever she wanted to get information out of me.

“No!” I protested as I made a cross with my fingers and held them before me as if she was a vampire. “I won’t fall for that eye trick again!”

“What eye trick? I don’t have an eye trick. Look at me, Adam,” she said.

“No! I won’t let you seduce me with your vampire stare!” I playfully shouted. But I had already fallen for it. I fell for that mesmerizing gaze of hers the second I laid eyes on her.

As we continued to horseplay before class, something inside of me told me that I should go to the prom with her. I kept getting the feeling that I shouldn’t leave her side, lest some unknown danger swoops in and takes her away from me. But I knew that I couldn’t guard her with every waking second and go after The Suspect.

It’ll all be over soon,
I told myself.
Besides, she’s just going to the prom. How dangerous could that be?

50. HOMECOMING

IT WAS FRIDAY NIGHT AND I HAD BEEN STANDING ACROSS the street from my parent’s shack of a house for almost thirty minutes. It had been months since I had been back home, and I was still trying to convince myself that coming back was the right thing to do.

You’re the reason he’s not coming back! You’re the reason I’m all alone. I wish I had never found you!
The sting of my mother’s toxic words still burned in my mind as I stared at the front door.
How could she have said that to me
? I wondered. Sure, she had had a few drinks that night, but that’s nothing to tell your son even if you are drunk. That’s nothing to tell someone you love.

Perhaps that was the reason I came back. Maybe I wanted to find out if I really was her son and most of all, if she really did love me.

SHE WAS ASLEEP ON THE COUCH WHEN I FINALLY ENTERED the front door. I was surprised at how clean the living room was. My mother was quite the neat freak, but my father was as filthy as she was neat and she could never keep the house very clean due to his presence canceling out hers. As I stood in the front room and peered around, I couldn’t find a single trace of his usual filth. The only thing out of place at the moment was the empty wine bottle lying on the floor beside the couch on which my mother slept.

She stirred a bit as I approached, but she still remained asleep. She looked cold as she lay in a somewhat fetal position in the corner of our ancient couch. I grabbed a blanket from the laundry room and gently placed it over her frail body.

A painful wash of despair came over me as I noticed the dried tears that stained the hardened skin on her cheeks. It was painful to even look at her. She was only 45 years old, but she could have easily gone for over sixty. I had seen pictures of her when she was much younger. She was so beautiful back then. So beautiful and so smart, but that was before she met him. Seeing the physically and mentally broken woman that lay before me made it hard to imagine that she had ever been as good looking as she once was. It was hard to imagine that she had ever been happy.

My father’s hold over her baffled me. I had seen younger pictures of him as well, and based solely on looks, she was completely out of his league. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that Monica was out of my league as well. Were we destined to repeat the same path as my parents?

My perpetual nightmare came to mind as I watched my mother sleep. I wondered if the hatred that I saw in Monica’s eyes within my dream represented the way that she would feel about me if I turned out to be just like my father. I knew the dream was more than just a meaningless nightmare. I knew that it was real. The same way Monica knew that her own recurring dream was more than just a random sequence of subconscious images.

In my heart of hearts I knew that it ultimately meant that at some point she would be placed in incredible danger. That realization should have compelled me to spend every waking second around her in order to protect her from whatever was coming, but my hatred of The Suspect was pulling me down the dark path of revenge. The only thing in the world at that point that could match the strength of my love for her, was my hatred for him.

“Phillip?” my mother murmured as she finally opened her eyes and squinted at me. She wasn’t calling for my brother. Phillip, Jr. was dead. We both knew that. She had obviously mistaken me for, Phillip, Sr. Her voice sounded so hopeful that it hurt. It was as if she would have burst into tears of joy had I actually been him.

“It’s me, Mother,” I whispered, ignoring the sting of her confusing me with my father.

“That’s right,” she said, slightly slurring her words as she attempted to stand, “You can’t be him because Phillip’s dead.” She lost her balance as she tried to take a step. I zoomed over and caught her before she had even fallen an inch.

“I’ve got you, Mom,” I said to her as she grew tense, still bracing herself for the fall.

I gently placed her back on the couch and sat beside her. She was still disoriented, but I could tell that she was starting to regain some of the awareness that was taken from her by the alcohol.

I couldn’t look her in the eyes. I knew that I still loved her, but after what she had said to me the night I left home, I didn’t feel like she deserved my love. I hoped that at some point the flicker of love that still remained within me would wither and die, leaving nothing behind but the hatred that I wanted to feel for her disowning me. The hate was definitely there. In all honesty, I hated her more than I loved her. I hated her for what she had done to me. I hated what she had done to herself, and most of all, I hated her for what happened to PJ. Despite the magnitude of my hate, the remnants of love that remained would not allow me to completely cast her away.

“Adam?” she asked as she peered at me through teary eyes.

“Yes, it's me, Mom,” I said as I fought back tears. I clinched my jaw and fought harder as tears began to race down her cheeks. I could never stand the sight of her crying. A few deep breaths allowed me to gain my composure.

“I'm sorry, Adam. I shouldn't have said those things,” she sobbed.

“It's okay, mom. I know you didn't mean it.” But it wasn't okay and something told me that she really did mean what she had said. She may have regretted it, but that doesn't change the fact that those feelings were there, buried deep within the bowels of her subconscious. Deep within the part of her mind that was only accessible by way of the bottle to which she clung to on that night. The one thing my father's insufferable brand of parenting taught me was that people often told you how they really felt once they were under the influence of alcohol.

“He's gone, Adam. You're all I have left,” she said, while fighting hard to maintain her consciousness.

“Who's gone, Mom?” I asked.

“Your father,” she whispered as her face twisted into a painful grimace and more tears poured from her eyes. A part of me was hoping she would say that, but I wished it didn't cause her so much pain.

“He'll come back, Mom. He always does.”

“No, he won’t. Not this time.” The look in her eyes said it all. I could tell that something big must have happened.

“What's wrong, Mom? What happened?”

“Your father, Adam; he's dead. They found his body at the bottom of Lake Victoria yesterday.” Every bit of the composure she had regained vanished and I pulled her into an embrace more out of obligation than out of solace. I couldn’t care less about his death. I only cared that it caused her such terrible anguish.

I didn't say a word as I tried to comfort her. I couldn't. Instead of remorse, all I felt was anger. Anger brought on by the fact that even in death, he was causing her great pain. When she finally drifted off to sleep, I placed the blanket over her and retreated to my old room upstairs. My plan was to grab a few hours of sleep and then head back to 3D.

As I approached my old bedroom door, somehow I knew that this would be the last night I ever spent in that house.