Immortal Coil: A Novel (Immortal Trilogy Book 1) Read online

  He slept with the boy even though his corpse boy did not need sleep. He just wanted his boy near him.

  No rope was required for this boy.

  The corpse boy earned a lot of freedom from the man. He was allowed the run of the property, which covered a ten-acre patch of land. As long as the corpse boy was in the house when the Dark Father slept, he no longer needed to be kept in the coffin during the night.

  The corpse boy occupied his time catching flies, tearing off their wings and eating them. He also picked maggots and beetles off his skin and ate those. The corpse boy craved these bugs as a vampire craved blood, and it was these bugs that gave his rotten skin the ability to regenerate. He did not tell Dark Father of this discovery, and when the man saw what the boy was doing to the insects, he told him to stop. When the boy refused to stop eating the insects, the Dark Father used a machete to cut off the boy’s hands. The hands dropped to the floor and burst into dust like the ashes flicked off the end of a cigarette.

  The following night, the Dark Father woke to learn that the corpse boy’s hands had regenerated. Not only had the rotting flesh returned, but also the bone and muscle. The vampire was intrigued; he couldn’t do this. If his hands were cut off they were gone. He could not regenerate severed limbs. Why was this simple creature able to completely regenerate?

  “I wonder what else you will grow back,” he said and cut off the boy’s legs.

  The corpse boy sat in the corner looking at the two piles of ashes that had been his legs and learned he didn’t have to actually eat the insects. He still caught and ate flies, spiders and other bugs that passed by him, but he noticed the maggots and beetles boring through his body were being absorbed by his rotting skin. He could forgo eating bugs, and maybe then his evil master would stop cutting off his body parts.

  The Dark Father woke to learn the boy’s legs had grown back.

  Now the Dark Father was angry. He didn’t have this ability, so why could this festering pile of puss do this regeneration thing? In a fit of anger, The Dark Father decapitated his corpse boy. He looked down at what he had done in horror. The head turned to ash, but the body was still intact. He placed it on the work bench. He would decide what to do with the rotting flesh another night. He hunted and slaughtered a new family with an anger and fervor that did not abate when he was finished. He didn’t have time to kill any more that night, although he wanted to. He decapitated the three members of his latest family and returned to the mansion grumpy and unfulfilled. As he returned to the coffin, he stared at the headless corpse on the workbench. He missed his pet and hated his own impulsiveness.

  But to his surprise, he woke the next night to learn the head had grown back.

  “I can’t seem to destroy you, my precious little thing,” The Dark Father said. He resolved to do one last experiment. On the workbench where the corpse boy sat, the Dark Father decapitated the boy with his machete. He then severed the arms and legs, and cut the torso in half. With the boy’s body parts in hand the Dark Father dropped the corpse into the bonfire he had built in the back yard. He burned everything. He hunted bums and street walkers, and retired to his coffin confident that the corpse boy was no more. A pity, he thought. He is gone too soon from me.

  What the Dark Father didn’t know was as long as a single cell survived, the corpse boy could regenerate. On the table where the Dark Father had performed his evisceration, a single scrap of rotten flesh twitched. The bit of flesh expanded and pulsed. Soon the lump of flesh grew from the size of a dime to the size of a quarter, then to the size of an orange. Within hours the corpse boy was back in full. He climbed off the table, picked up the machete and hid it in the garage. This new corpse boy was aware at a molecular level, and could retrieve all the memories of what the Dark Father had done to him. When the Father woke, he was stunned and excited to see that the corpse boy was sitting in the corner of the basement staring at him.

  The corpse boy tossed a spider into his mouth like a kernel of popcorn.

  14.

  Antony opened the door to the panic room and saw the boy sitting calmly on the seat closest to the opening. Antony pulled the boy’s prey into the room. The boy stared down at the man kneeling before him. Without being told what to do, the vampire boy leaned over and peered into the eyes of his prey. He looked up at Antony and smiled. He nodded his head and then tore into the man’s throat with a grinding bite of flat teeth. The man gave out a shuddering scream of pain from behind his gag, but the skin finally broke and the boy vampire drank. And drank. Once finished, he wiped the blood off his chin.

  The bloodlust left the boy’s eyes.

  Antony said, “amazing.”

  “What is?” Maggie appeared in the doorway. At the sight of her, the vampire boy lowered his gaze, ashamed.

  “It would appear he only requires one transfusion a night to sustain him,” Antony said.

  The vampire boy glanced over at Maggie again, then down at his hands. “I’m sorry.” His voice was hoarse; it was the first time he had used his vampire vocal chords. He could hear how his voice had changed, how it turned darker, somehow.

  “You have nothing to be sorry about.” Maggie tilted her head slightly. “What is your name?”

  The boy thought a moment. He didn’t know his name, only what he had been dubbed by his Dark Father. I am the Roped Boy. He was about to say this, but then, as if someone had spoken into his ear, he said the name: “Randal.” He wasn’t completely sure it was his name, but it was as good a name as any.

  “Do you think you can come out of there and join us?” Maggie asked. “To stay?”

  Randal thought a moment and then nodded.

  Antony allowed Randal into the group, but he kept an eye out for any sign the boy would devolve to the ravenous beast. When he was sure David and Maggie would be okay around Randal, and with his own bloodlust coming on strong, he ducked away to feed.

  Maggie took Randal to a room that she thought would be suitable and presented it to him. “You’ll sleep here from now on, okay?”

  Randal inspected. The window, closed in completely by bricks, seemed to sufficiently blot out the sun. He sat on the bed. It was hard; he liked that. They sat together. She could see he was not comfortable around the men, but he did seem to trust her.

  Randal shook his head. She hugged him. She touched his soft, silky black hair. She lifted his chin and their eyes met. She studied his milky complexion. “You’re going to be a handsome young man for eternity,” she said.

  Randal’s eyes turned away from her.

  “Would you mind telling me about your family?”

  Randal shook his head.

  She said, “I had a family once too. I had a daughter named Molly that I lost in a very sad way. Do you mind if I tell you about it? I’d very much like to tell someone.”

  Randal met her eyes again. “Yes, please.”

  Maggie smiled, closed her eyes, and told her most harrowing tale.

  “Molly’s father was a man named Grover Dixon. He was four years older than me. I had known Grover since I was young because he used to help my father. My father used to go around to junk yards and lawn sales and collect old metal items like lawn chairs and broken swings and whatnot. There were mounds and mounds of discarded and destroyed metal objects in our back yard, piled as high as our one story house. Grover and my Dad would take Dad’s beat up old Ford Ranger out and bring back all these amazing, useless items in order to strip them for their aluminum parts. My Dad could make money selling the aluminum and would share his earning with Grover.

  “When I was fourteen, I had come home from school one day crying. My Dad was out and Grover was in the back yard with the junk. I didn’t know he was there until I heard him knocking on the screen door leading to the back yard.

  “‘I’m sorry little Maggers; I was going to ask for a cup of lemonade and heard you crying. Mind if I ask you what’s wrong?’

  “I hesitated. I didn’t know him that well and didn’t know if I should tell him
private stuff about myself. But I was hurting and I didn’t have anyone else to talk to, so I poured us both a glass of lemonade and I went out to the junk yard with him.

  “I found a metal chair that had not been stripped yet mixed in with all the rubble and sat on it. After a moment I said, ‘Some girls at school were calling me Raggie Maggie because of my second hand clothes. Usually it doesn’t bother me, but today I was just a wreck. Everything was making me cry. I hate to cry.’

  “‘I’m sorry,’ he said simply.

  “I watched him as he took a long silver magnet and rolled it over different metal objects. He was looking at me, and didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he was doing. ‘Why are you doing that?’ I asked, and just like that, had forgotten all about my problems at school.

  “He said: ‘I pass the magnet over different objects and see if it sticks.’ Then he demonstrated.

  “‘If it sticks you want what is under it?’ I asked.

  “‘If it sticks, it’s not aluminum and I don’t want it. Aluminum isn’t magnetic. So whatever doesn’t stick to the magnet, I throw over in that pile to keep.’ He pointed to a disjointed skeletal mound of silver behind him. ‘The rest I send to the dump.’

  “‘Sounds boring,’ I said.

  “‘Is boring, but its work,’ he said.

  “I stayed with him until my father came home.

  “The next day after school I poured two glasses of lemonade and headed out to the back yard. As I had hoped, Grover was there combing through the debris. He saw me with the lemonades, and his smile was as bright as the sun glinting off the metal objects surrounding him. Sweat was pouring off him in buckets and his shirt was wet with it and sticking to his muscular frame. Grover wasn’t a handsome man, but he wasn’t ugly. He had crooked yellowed teeth, but when he smiled his lips pulled back into the brightest, happiest expression; and then his teeth didn’t seem all that bad. He had some of the most beautiful almond shaped brown eyes and long eyelashes I had ever seen on a man, and in my eyes he was the most beautiful creature I had ever laid eyes on. He took one of the glasses and kissed my forehead, and I blushed. He saw my redness, but ignored it like a real gentleman and drank from his lemonade. He downed the entire glass in one long swig, spilling it over his lips and onto his sweat- and grime-stained tee shirt.

  “When he was finished he handed the glass back to me. I sat both glasses down on a nearby bench. I hadn’t touched my lemonade.

  “He turned to go back to the task of stripping, hesitated with a knowing smile, turned back to me and said, ‘I have something for you Maggers.’

  “‘You have something for me?’ I repeated stupidly.

  “He nodded, and without getting it dirty, he reached into a sack and pulled out a thin white box about ten inches by twelve inches and about two inches thick. He set the box down on my lap as carefully as a king setting a crown on his queen’s head.

  “I was excited beyond words to learn what was inside the box, but I only looked at it for a long time. I didn’t open the box until he said, ‘Well aren’t you gonna open it?’

  “I needed no further encouragement. I pulled off the lid and inside was a beautiful black dress. I pulled it out and lifted it to my body. I was in awe. It was so elegant and so undoubtedly my style.

  “Grover said, ‘I saw that pretty thing and I said to myself; with that jet black hair and alabaster skin, Maggers is gonna look mighty beautiful in that. So I bought it.’ He peered at me through those long eyelashes and said more softly, ‘I hope you like it.’

  “There weren’t words for what I thought of that dress. There were tears in my eyes when I carefully replaced the dress in the box and hugged him, not caring if he got me dirty. ‘Thank you,’ I whispered into his ear as he rubbed gently at my back.

  “As I pulled away, I heard the screen door behind me squeak open then slam shut.

  “‘Is this why I’m losing money?’ my father said. ‘My daughter is pestering the help?’ My father was stern and gruff, but he was really just an old softy when it came to me.

  “‘Daddy, look what Grover bought me!’ I said and held up the dress.’

  “‘Bought you?’ my father asked and looked questioningly over at Grover. I looked up and saw that Grover’s attention had been diverted from me and the dress to something metal that needed his immediate care. ‘Go inside and try that pretty thing on while I have a chat with Grover, pumpkin,’ my father said.

  “The dress fit perfectly, and when I wore that dress to school no one called me Raggie Maggie.

  “More gifts followed. Grover bought me some more clothes, books, and jewelry: expensive necklaces and bracelets.

  “I was sixteen when my father said, ‘You’re not really that stupid, are you? He’s stealing that stuff. I don’t pay him enough to afford all that shit.’

  “‘He’s not stealing it,’ I argued. ‘He doesn’t have the bills you do so he can afford to buy things he wants. You’re just jealous.’

  “My father grabbed me roughly by the arms. ‘Stop accepting those gifts,’ he said. ‘They will only lead to trouble.’ I pulled away from him and stormed to my room.

  “On my seventeenth birthday, Grover had a surprise for me and I wasn’t allowed to see it until it was ready. He blindfolded me and led me over a long path. There were stones under my shoes as we walked, so I knew it wasn’t going to be in the back yard. When we reached our destination he stopped me.

  “‘Are you ready to take the blindfold off?’ he asked.

  “‘Yes,’ I said breathlessly. I was beyond excited. He removed the blindfold and I had to read just to my eyes to the sudden brightness of my new surroundings. I looked at Grover and was stunned to see how cleanly dressed he was. We were under a cherry tree in the orchard near my house. And under the tree was a red and white checkered blanket, and a basket. ‘A picnic,’ I said with tears flooding my eyes.

  “‘Happy Birthday, Maggers,’ he said and we sat down on the blanket. He fed me sandwiches and grapes from the basket. When strawberry juice ran down my chin, he used a finger to wipe it off, and then he licked the juice off his fingers.

  “About an hour of just sitting and drinking in the beautiful surroundings, a light wind started to pick up. Cherry blossoms lifted off the trees and swirled around us making it seem as though it were snowing. It was so beautiful. One blossom landed on my eye. I lifted it off my face and blew it from my palm. When I turned to look at Grover, to see if he had witnessed the beautiful thing that had just transpired, I saw that he was looking at something in his hands. And he was smiling.

  “‘What is it,’ I asked, sensing he had something more to show me or tell me.

  “He didn’t speak. He cupped his palms together and peered into the crack, enticing me to see what he had there. When I tried to look, he pulled away. When I tried harder to look, he stretched out and prevented me from seeing what was in his hands. I had to pin him down with my body in order to get a look at what he was holding. It was a small black jewelry box. He handed it to me. With trembling fingers, I opened it. There was a silver ring inside with a small diamond embedded in it.

  “‘Will you marry me?’ he asked and his voice trembled.

  “Tears flooded my vision. Cherry blossoms floated around me like fairies. The ring was simple but it was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I didn’t have to say yes. I jumped into his arms and started kissing his face. He kissed me back. He kissed away my tears.

  “He took me into his strong arms and we made love under that cherry tree. It was my first time. Looking back, I can’t say it was my most wonderful memory, but I was in love. His strong arms encircled me and I felt safer in that moment than I ever have in my whole life. I just knew that these arms would protect me for as long as I lived. His breath was a soft tickle on my neck, and when he whispered: ‘I love you Maggers. I’ll love you forever if you marry me’ into my ear I knew that he could steal anything he liked and I wouldn’t care. I would help him. I would have become the new B
onnie and Clyde if that was what he wished.

  “We didn’t marry. My father refused to even consider such a thing. And when I graduated from school, I left my father behind and ran away with Grover.

  “We stopped running in Philadelphia when we ran out of money and couldn’t afford a bus ticket to go any further. He got a job cleaning floors and I took up waitressing. With tips and my regular wages, I was making more money than him.

  “‘You have to quit,’ he said to me when we were cleaning up after dinner one night.

  “‘I can’t quit; we need the money. Besides, I make more money than you. So you quit.’ I was just joking with him, but he got really angry. He rushed toward me and raised the back of his hand as if to strike me. I flinched and dropped the plate I was holding. He glared for a second or two more, and then dropped his hand. He helped me clean up the broken plate. Things got quiet in our house after that. Grover and I barely spoke two words to each other on any given night.

  “I’m not sure how or when, but Grover suddenly started having all kinds of cash. I asked him what he’d been doing to generate so much money, but all he would say was it was none of my business. I learned soon enough that he was selling drugs. If that wasn’t bad enough, he then broke the cardinal rule of any drug pusher and started using. We had all kinds of looser-types tracking through our house. I guess I just got used to it. I got used to the beatings as well. I think that he hit me the most when he was coming down off the drugs. It’s hard to bring home good tips when you’re nursing a black eye or swollen jaw. People knew where the bruises were coming from, but most just pretended not to see. It was easier that way for everyone, even me. It was Paula, a fellow waitress that decided she couldn’t keep quiet any longer.