Successors (6 page)

“So, you’re saying you would rather be here than free?” She followed him into the kitchen and leaned on the sink while he prepared a bowl of cereal.

He shook his head. “I think what I'm saying is, the last five years have been shit, and I'm willing to give anything else a try so I don't have to end up dealing drugs or using them.”

The scowl on her face finally ebbed away. “That bad?” she asked.

He stared down at his breakfast for a moment. “Bad enough.” He took a bite of the cereal. The reconstituted milk left something to be desired, but given there location, he understood the sacrifice. “Want some?” Ethan said over his mouthful. He pointed to the cartoon box on the counter. She looked at it and shook her head. “Come on, I know you're hungry. They can't have fed you that much.”

He pulled a bowl out of the cupboard and handed it to her. She took it and begrudgingly poured a bowl of cereal. For a few minutes they chomped in silence.

Without the innocuous droning of a television or radio, the house was quiet. Too quiet. He was used to listening to soccer games or hearing the background noise of passing cars and people. This place was going to take some getting used to.

He slurped the last of his milk out of the bowl and resisted pouring another bowl. He watched the girl do the same, albeit less gracefully. He smiled as she wiped her chin clean.

“What?” she questioned his attention.

“I take it, you have someone or someplace you would like to get back to?” he asked.

She set her bowl in the sink, before answering. “Not specifically. I'm kind of on my own. My family is...gone.”

“Friends?”

“A few. Not close. I never did get the hang of that. I had a guy friend for a while, but then I slept with him. Fastest way to break a friendship, I tell you what.” Ethan chuckled at her joke and a microscopic smile crept onto her face. “What about you? Why no friends?”

“I went through a really long phase of punching all my friends.”

“Oh,” she laughed. “I stand corrected, that is probably the fastest way to break a friendship.”

“Yeah, it really is.” Ethan leaned back against the fridge. “I did have one person I considered a friend. He was technically my parole officer.”

“Well, that's someone, at least,” she said.

He scoffed. “He was actually the one who introduced me to the “employment
agency” we just came from. I’m pretty sure he got a little side money for it.” Her face melted into pity for him. He preferred her scowl.

“You know just because you didn't have a good childhood, doesn't mean you couldn't make something of yourself as an adult,” she insisted. “You don't owe this guy anything. Certainly not the rest of your life.”

Ethan nodded and noticed that she was cradling her right hand in her left. She must have been feeling the ramifications of boxing with a wall. “You should ice your hand.”

“It's fine,” she answered with a knee jerk response.

Rather than accept her answer, he opened the freezer and pulled out a bag of frozen peas that would do the trick. He found a towel hanging on the stove handle and moved to aid her swelling hand.

“What are you doing?” She stood upright ready to bolt.

“It's an ice pack for your hand,” he explained revealing the picture of peas on it.

“I can see that, but I said I'm fine.”

“You're not fine, you're fingers are swelling like sausages. Take it from experience, you want to ice your hand.” He grabbed her hand and drug it forward.

“I don't want the ice!” She ripped her hand away and smacked it into the cabinetry behind her. She yelped and bent over to cradle her hand.

“Are you okay?”

“No, I'm not okay.”

“Come on let me help.” He touched her back, trying to comfort her.

“No!” She threw her arm back, slamming her elbow into his chin.

He growled and stepped back, cradling his chin. “Would you stop hitting me!”

She stared at him, eyes wide and teeth bared. “Then stop touching me!”

“I am not going to hurt you! I'm trying to help!”

“I don't want your help! I don't want anything from you! Just leave me alone!” She stomped off. A moment later he heard her door slam. 

He sighed and pressed the peas to his own sore chin. “Can't imagine why she doesn't have any friends,” he mumbled.  

7

When Danato came home that evening, he recruited Missy to help him prepare dinner. After several snide remarks, she agreed to the task, but only because he insisted it would be faster if she helped him. Her appetite was likely the tipping point in the debate.

She looked a good deal cleaner and rested than she had the night before, but a shower and bed had done nothing to improve her spirits. The only difference in her temperament was that she had traded her open defiance for sullen avoidance. He wanted to do or say something to evoke her civility and bridge the gap between them, but even the innocent movements of his kitchen tasks made her flinch.

“Missy,” he chastised when his reach to turn down the stove temperature nearly caused her to spill a pot of hot water on herself. “You have to get hold of yourself. Your jumpiness is going to get one of us scolded.”

“Just...back off.”

He sighed and leaned his hands on the counter next to the stove. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She scoffed. “I'd rather talk to that vampire thing than you.”

He sighed and tapped his fingers on the counter. “What would you say if I told you I could erase your memory of everything that happened to you?”

“Erase; like amnesia?”

“Yes, but you would never remember. Every painful memory would just go away.”

“All of it?”

“I would need you to remember the kidnapping and coming with me so you have a frame of reference. It would just be as if you blocked out the whole experience.” He watched her contemplate the idea. “Would you want that?”

Her face dimmed and her telltale stubborn frown returned. “Is that what you want me to do? So I'm easier to handlea.”

Danato shook his head. “I'm trying to make this transition easier for you.”

“I don't want it to be easier. I don't belong here.”

“I meant your transition back to trusting men again.”

Her eyes widened slightly and took a step back. “I think I would rather know what the world is really like. Monsters and all.”

He nodded and moved back to the sink. “Well, the offer is available if you ever change your mind.”

Come dinnertime, the three of them sat down to tuna noodle casserole and a tossed salad. Danato watched as his two recruits avoided eye contact with each other. The few times their eyes met it spawned a glare or eye roll from the other. He had hoped that their day together would have given them a chance to bond, but it appeared to have done the opposite.

“Is something wrong?” Danato finally asked.

“Nope,” they said in unison.

“Good, I would hate to have to split you two up. The only rooms left are in the prison.” Neither one balked at his threat. “Missy, I won’t be ready for you to begin working in the prison yet. I’d like you to concentrate on keeping up with things around here. There isn’t much. Dusting, vacuuming, and a little something for supper tomorrow night would be appreciated.”

“I’m a house slave?” she asked, appalled.

“The prison is a very detail-oriented place. Certain things are done certain ways, for very important reasons. Neither my staff nor myself can afford mistakes or outright disobedience. Your attitude,” he nodded to her swollen hand, “and distrust needs to be under control before I send you in. If things go well here, I will gladly get you involved  in other duties.”

“I will never understand why you keep playing like this is employment,” she said, plopping another helping of casserole on her plate.

“It is employment.”

“What’s my salary?” she asked.

“I can pay you, but the money would be worthless, since you would just give it back to me to pay for your food, clothing—”

“What if I want something you haven’t offered me?” She leaned over the table, challenging him with the tilt of her head.

“I can get you almost anything you need, within reason. We do have a budget like any other prison.”

“Who pays for that budget?” she asked.

“Mostly private benefactors. We do have a few under-the-table military operations.”

“I want a television,” she declared as if she already had that request in mind.

He looked at Ethan, who was nodding in agreement. They must have been bored out of their minds being in the house all day without spoon-fed entertainment. “I’m so used to being without one, I forgot what it must be like here without it for the first time.”

“So, can we get one?” Ethan’s brow raised in anticipation.

“Unfortunately, that is not allowed. Neither are radios.”

“Says who?” Missy narrowed her eyes as if cocking the gun to her next argument.

“Says about eight dead guards in 1953. Certain electronics can be used to heighten telepathic channeling… so to speak.”

They both looked at him, not realizing the explanation was finished. He didn’t bother going into it more since it only would have brought about questions he wasn’t willing to answer yet. Or ever.

“Maybe I
don’t
want to get out of this house, to work in the prison.” Missy offered a grimace to Ethan.

“Eventually you’ll get sick of being here,” Danato assured her before turning to Ethan. “We will be up early tomorrow, I suggest you get plenty of sleep.” He wiped his chin and cleared his dishes before heading to his bedroom for the night. Even as he shut his door, he heard them moving to do the same.

8

Shortly after sunrise, Cori was awakened by Danato. The fright of a still strange man over her bed sent her heart into overdrive. She must have screamed or whimpered because he hushed her gently and brushed her hair away from her face.

He asked her to help him with breakfast. She was halfway between sleep and fear so she agreed to the demand that he cleverly disguised as a request. She crawled out of her warm bed to do his bidding. Feeling no need to dress for the occasion she went downstairs in her pajamas. She arrived in the kitchen with a full yawn, expressing her objection to the early hour. She stood at the end of the island and awaited directions from Danato, who was already heating up his griddle.

“Do those clothes not fit?” Danato asked, looking over at her sleepwear.

“What?”

“Wasn’t there a box full of clothes in that room?”

She scoffed. “Yeah, but it’s like 5 a.m. and if you think I’m up for the day, you are so wrong.”

“Oh, well as long as some stuff gets cleaned up, we should be fine. This isn’t the type of place you want to let get messy.”

“Really?” She raised an eyebrow and took on toast duty when no other instructions was given.

After a breakfast of toast, eggs, and fruit, the men prepared for their day of gainful employment. She cleared dishes as they put on their coats by the door. She caught Ethan watching her. “What?” she asked, picking up all three glasses with one hand.

“I…” He cleared his throat. “Thank you for breakfast.” His recognition, albeit gracious, sounded forced, like he didn’t really want to say it.

“He made it, I just made the toast.” She shrugged and took her glassware to the sink.

“I didn’t have any toast,” he said to her back. “So, I guess what I should have said was ‘burn in hell you heinous bitch.’”

She made a slow pivot back to him. Her mouth had dropped open in awe of his audacity. He glowered back at her.

“Ethan that was unnecessary,” Danato scolded him. 

“Unnecessary, but accurate,” he mumbled.

“Oh, screw you, I hope you get eaten in there!” she shouted.

“Both of you knock it off!” Danato hollered. “You’re angry at your situation, and taking it out on each other.”

“No, I’m pretty sure she's a bitch,” Ethan contested.

“Out, Ethan.” Danato shoved a coat at him and pushed him out the door. He looked back at Cori. “How old are you again?” he said, coming into the kitchen.

She rolled her eyes and turned away from him. His hand cut across her face as he grabbed her shoulders. Before she was even aware of any pressure, she was dizzy from spinning back to face him. “What? Twenty-three.” She raised her shoulders to shrug him away, but he had already released her.

“Really? Because not only did you sink to a grade-school level of immaturity, you brought him down there with you.”

“He started it!” She laughed as she said it because it didn’t seem to help her case, even though it was true.

“He was trying to thank you. To reestablish some courtesy in your communication, and you dismissed him instead of acknowledging him.”

“I don't want to reestablish the communication. I shouldn't have established it to begin with. I shouldn't be here!”