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

  “‘Dave, are you hearing me?’ he was asking when I was able to focus again.

  “I looked up at him, and with tears rimming my eyes, threatening to spill over I said, ‘Take me with you.’

  “He stared at me for a minute, not sure how to respond.

  “I knew this wasn’t a possibility, but still I had to do something. I could no longer carry this burden alone. The tears flowed and so did my story. ‘If you don’t take me with you, he is going to kill me. My stepfather is crazy. He beats me and terrorizes me. I have burns and cuts; I have scars from his abuse and torture.’ I watched as his expression turned from confusion to outright horror. ‘I’m afraid,’ I admitted with a shuddering breath.

  “Tim went to his bedroom door and flung it open. For a second I thought he was going to demand that I leave, but instead he shouted, ‘Mom, Dad! Come in here, quick!’

  “They were in the doorway in seconds. I had broken down sobbing uncontrollably when they appeared, and I couldn’t speak anymore. Mrs. Warner was at my side right away, holding me and trying to calm me down. ‘David, what’s wrong?’ She turned to Tim. ‘What happened?’ she asked him.

  “‘I don’t know. I told him we were moving and he…he wants to go with us. He said he’s being abused by his stepdad.’

  “When I had calmed down, I told them what I had already said to Tim. I told them about the hunting trips. I showed them the marks on my back, the cigar burns—there were more than just the one on my foot by then—and I told them how Ralph had threatened to cut off my penis if I had sex with ‘that floosy’ I was hanging around with. He was referring to Rachael, of course.

  “By the time I was done Mrs. Warner was crying and Mr. Warner was outraged.

  “‘David, come with me,’ he said. He drove me home and confronted my stepfather in the doorway. He pushed his way into the house and demanded to know what was happening to me. He accused my mother and Ralph of being horrible parents.

  “My mother was afraid, and she started crying; but Ralph was just looking at Mr. Warner with contempt in his eyes and smile on his lips that was half smirk, half snarl.

  “‘You have a lot of nerve coming in here and accusing us good people of such atrocities,’ Ralph said.

  “‘Good people,’ Mr. Warner spat. ‘I’ve seen the bruises and the scars. I know abuse when I see it.’

  “‘He’s a clumsy kid, what can I say?’

  “‘He has stories. He told me about the hunting trips where you threaten to kill him. What is it you say? It’s a dangerous world out there, you should be careful?’

  “At this my mother looked at Ralph with alarm. He glanced at her only briefly then back at Mr. Warner.

  “‘Lies,’ he said. ‘Stories just like you said. He tries to get attention by making up stuff.’

  “‘He wants to come and stay with us.’ Mr. Warner admitted and I cringed a little inside. ‘I think you should let us take him until we can get this straightened out.’

  “‘Is that what this is all about? You want to take our kid away from us. There is no way that is going to happen.’

  “‘Maybe the police should have a say in this,’ Mr. Warner said.

  “‘How dare you barge into my home and tell me I’m unfit to raise my own son,’ my mother charged, suddenly finding a backbone. ‘This is an outrage and I won’t stand for it.’

  “It had happened so fast that even I didn’t see it coming. While my mother was expressing her outrage, Ralph had dipped out of the room and returned with a pistol in his hand. He pointed it at Mr. Warner. Mr. Warner put an arm out to me protectively and moved me behind him. I loved him for that.

  “‘I suggest you walk out that door and not look back,’ Ralph warned.

  “‘Not without David,’ Mr. Warner was talking with a careful inflection, as if to a child who had just done something naughty.

  “My mother had been slowly inching her way toward us, and with the gun pointed at us we hadn’t noticed until she had snatched my arm and pulled me away from the other man. Ralph stepped up and planted the gun to Warner’s forehead.

  “‘I don’t recall inviting you in here,’ Ralph said. ‘You just barged in here and tried to steal my son away from me. That’s the story the cops are going to get as they’re cleaning your brains up off my floor.’

  “Tim’s dad put his hands up in front of him. He backed up slowly. He left the house without turning his back on the gun. He walked backward to his car, climbed and drove away. I never saw him again.

  “A few minutes passed before Ralph stepped over and closed the door. He then turned on me with a rage like no other. He charged at me with the gun raised like a club.

  “At some point during the confrontation the dogs had joined the room. Now, as Ralph approached me meaning to strike me with the butt of the gun, the dogs stepped in front of me and growled at Ralph. They were snarling and long tendrils of saliva dripped from their mouths and splattered the floor. Ralph wisely backed off. He left the room muttering about ungrateful dogs not knowing who their true owner was.

  “There were no other repercussions from that night, but in school the next day I learned that Tim had been pulled from all his classes. I never saw him again, either.

  “ I didn’t blame the Warners for leaving the way they did. It was a matter of survival for them. I’m sure they worried about me, but in the end they had each other to worry about as well. If anything had happened to Tim or his parents, I would never have forgiven myself for getting them involved.

  “My relationship with Rachael tapered off after that as well. I just couldn’t risk putting her in danger the way I had with the Warners. I would rather she hate me for being a jerk than allow her to stay in the line of fire.

  “Strangely, though, Ralph seemed reluctant to touch me after the incident with Mr. Warner. If it was the dogs standing up for me or just the mere fact that his hateful ways were no longer just something he and I knew about, I couldn’t tell. He stopped hitting me and torturing me.

  “Instead, he started going after my mother.

  “One day I came home from school and found her sprawled out on the floor with blood coming out of her nose and a bruise on her cheek. Ralph was standing over her with his hands still clenched into fists. When I saw her I ran to her. He backed off and I heard the back door slam as he left the house.

  “‘What’s going on?’ I asked. I helped her to her feet.

  “‘You don’t concern yourself with what goes on between a woman and her man,’ she said. ‘It’s private business.’

  “‘We can’t keep letting him treat us like this,’ I said. ‘He’s going to end up killing one of us.’

  “Will you please stop with that nonsense.’

  “‘You have to know in your heart that I’m right. He’s crazy.’ I helped her clean her nose. She seemed more concerned about the blood on her blouse than what was coming out of her nose.

  “‘This shirt is ruined. It was my best one, too.’ She fussed at the stain.

  “‘Why are you ignoring me when you know I’m right?’ I asked but she kept wiping at the shirt. ‘I think we should get out of here,’ I said, forcefully.

  “‘What?’ she said shaking her head. ‘Stop talking nonsense.’

  “‘It’s not nonsense. We should leave him, go away and never look back.’

  “She slapped my face then. I stared at her, stunned. It was the first time she had ever struck me. She understood the significance of that slap and turned away from me.

  “‘He’s a good man,’ she said as if she was trying to convince herself of this. ‘He provides for us and takes care of us. Without him we would have nothing. Is that how you want to live?’

  “‘Anything is better than this,’ I said defiantly.

  “‘I can’t listen to this.’ She left me standing in the bathroom holding the rag with her blood on it. I wasn’t aware of this fact yet, but this would be my last night under that roof.

  “After dinner I went to my room to dig
est my venison in private. In the living room I could hear my mother talking. I went to the door and opened it a crack.

  “‘Something’s got to be done,’ she was saying. “He’s talking about leaving again and I just don’t know what to do about it.’

  “I closed the door feeling as though I had been punched. My own mother turned me in! My head swam. It didn’t take long to get over the shock, however. Ralph stormed down the hall and kicked my door in. I flew back from the force and landed half on my bed. Ralph grabbed me by my leg and dragged me out into the living room.

  “My mother pretended not to see what was happening.

  “Ralph hit me repeatedly in the face. One eye swelled shut. My mouth split open. When I couldn’t take any more hits to the face, he moved to my stomach. The pain was so bad I thought something inside me had exploded. I writhed and groaned, barely able to stay conscious. And just when I was sure I could take no more, salvation came in the form of two pit bulls. The back door burst in and the dogs charged into the house. Frankenstein was the first to get his teeth into Ralph. Ghost was not far behind. As Frankie bit down on Ralph’s wrist, pulling him off me, Ghost bit into his leg. When I was free I scrambled out of the way.

  “Ralph used his free hand to pull out the gun in his waistband and shot Frankenstein in the head. The dog flew back and landed on the floor with a final thud. I stared dumbfounded with my one good eye as his brains leaked out onto the dirty hardwood floor. Even before I had time to register what was happening, Ralph turned the gun on Ghost and shot him in the side. Ghost yelped and released Ralph’s leg. Ralph leveled the gun at Ghost’s head.

  “I charged then. I hit him in the midsection but not before the gun went off, killing Ghost. After the bullet left the chamber, the gun went flying as Ralph went down under my weight. He hit his head on the floor with a satisfying crack. I scrambled off him and reached for the gun, so did he. I got to it first and leveled it on him. He froze. Tears poured from my eyes as I glanced around at the two dead dogs. My finger itched to flinch and pull the trigger. Instead, I backed out of the living room, went into my mother’s bedroom and located something I thought might be expensive. I grabbed up a jewelry box and walked back into the living room, stuffing the prize into my pants. I said nothing as I pointed the gun at Ralph. I walked around him and out the front door. As I was leaving I heard him say no matter where I went he would hunt me down. I didn’t care. When I was out of sight of the house I threw the gun into the sewer.

  “I ran. As I was running, I pulled the box out of my pants and emptied the contents into my pockets. I tossed the box away. I ran until I thought my legs would just break off, and I would go rolling down the street, nothing but a torso and a head.

  “I wasn’t sure where I was running to, but I was no longer in my own neighborhood. I couldn’t believe there were neighborhoods worse than mine until I found myself in one. I walked through a tunnel formed when the thick pillars holding up the train rails above my head lined the road. I managed to get a couple hours of sleep sitting there, but when people started showing up around me I stood and walked on.

  “I was either walking in the wrong direction or the right one depending on how you looked at it, because the longer I walked the more decrepit the streets became. There were colorful and expressive graffiti on the rundown buildings. There were many empty buildings with boards covering broken out windows. Everywhere I looked were obscene words and pictures spray painted on walls. I stopped when I saw a restaurant with people inside eating.

  “I felt the lump in my pockets, wondering if—in all that costume jewelry—there was something worth enough money to buy a hot meal.

  “‘You hungry, kid?’ A voice behind me asked. I turned around and confronted a man wearing a dirty wife-beater and grease stains all up and down his pants. ‘Wow, that’s some shiner you got there,’ he said when he saw my face.

  “‘I am hungry,’ I admitted.

  “He took my face gently in his hands and examined me. ‘I’m gonna get you cleaned up,’ he said. ‘I think I could use a kid like you in my organization.’

  “He took me into the restaurant bathroom and cleaned my face. He was careful not to touch my bruises or open any cuts that had already scabbed over. When I was somewhat presentable he took me back to the restaurant and ordered me bacon and eggs, with toast and orange juice. I gobbled up the food like a hostage.

  “‘So,’ he said as I ate. ‘I will help you out, but do you have anything to trade?’

  “Stopping only briefly from shoving food into my mouth, I pulled the mounds of trinkets and jewelry out of my pockets and placed them on the table. I resumed cramming the food into my open maw. The man, Michael I would learn his name was, glanced over the items placed in front of him. ‘Junk,’ he would say, or ‘garbage. No good; junk; junk.’

  “‘Well, what’s this?’ he said and pulled out an engagement ring from the strings of fake pearls and cheap bracelets. He scratched it across the window next to him and it left a mark in the glass. ‘This is actually worth something.’

  “‘It’s yours,’ I said. ‘Could I have some more?’ I held up my plate. He stopped admiring the ring and looked at me. He smiled. He ordered more food, and when that was gone we left the restaurant. In about six months I would be back at that same restaurant eating a burger and fries, and trying to talk a vampire into letting me join him, but that’s not a part of this story.

  “Michael took me back to the motel he worked out of and introduced me to the other boys. They were all about my age, and they were all handsome and thin…and hungry. They were all runaways like me. They were trapped in a world I was about to get ensnared in as well. At that particular moment I didn’t care what I was in for as long as I was away from Ralph and his murderous tirades. Michael informed me of the rules.

  “‘I will set you up with a client. I will tell you which room the client will be waiting in and you will go to that room and do whatever the client asks of you. Wake up is at six thirty. Breakfast is at seven. Lunch is served at 1pm and dinner is at 6pm. You are free to roam during the day, but mostly you will want to rest as much as you can. Some clients can be quite tiring.’ He smiled at the other boys and they smiled back.

  “After Michael left the room, I turned to the other boys. ‘What is it these clients want us to do, exactly?’ I asked.

  “One boy stared at me for a long time, sizing me up, and then said: ‘Use your imagination newbie,’

  “I was not in a good place, no one could ever deny that—me especially—but I was off the Ralph Radar and that was a good thing. I was about a month into my new role when I asked Michael if it was possible for me to sit out one night. I wasn’t feeling up to entertaining that night. He looked at me with this odd expression of pity and disgust, and then he slapped me with the back of his hand. I was grateful it didn’t leave a mark. But then that was the plan, wasn’t it? I had just healed from my beating at home, and I was one of the more attractive boys; so messing up my face was not good business. He only meant to get his point across. ‘Do not presume to tell me how to run my business,’ he said. I ran off to join the others.

  “But do you want to know something? That old softy did exactly what I asked and gave me the night off.

  “The only adult supervision I had was Michael. The pimp’s breath smelled of stale beer and rotten meat. When he smiled the skin on his wrinkled, unshaven face stretched over his rotted teeth in a purely repulsive mask. His beady black eyes seemed to be looking in two different directions, but never directly at you. His stained and dingy wife-beater rode up over his fat, hairy belly, and he rubbed a hand over the exposed flesh. ‘Got a special client lined up for you: asked for you personally,’ he said to me one day.

  “I walked past the nauseating pimp, without looking at him, to the motel room Michael indicated. The room was dark as I entered. I could hear heavy breathing, and could see a dark form in the recliner at the back of the room, past the bed. ‘Turn on the light,’ the shadow said.
I thought I recognized the voice. My heart raced, and all I could hear in the dark and quiet room was the blood pounding in my ears. Surely, the shadowy figure could hear it as well.

  “‘Turn on the light,’ the shadowy figure said again. I reached out and put my hand on the light switch, but I didn’t flick it just yet. Something was telling me not to; something told me to run out the door and keep running. But that was a bad idea, too. Michael would catch me and the punishment would be severe. Against all reason I flicked on the light.

  “The shadowy figure came into view. Stunned, I fell back against the door and started to cry, turning from a streetwise youth to a helpless child in an instant.

  “‘I told you I’d find you, boy.’ It was my stepfather.

  “I reached back, and tried desperately to locate the doorknob. My stepfather stood and barreled toward me. I worked to get my fear under control. My only concern now was getting the door open and getting away from the murderous man coming at me. Nothing Michael would do could match the brutality my stepfather would show me.

  “‘You’re coming home,’ he said, almost sounding sincerely concerned. ‘Your mother is worried sick.’ Then he finished with a snake’s venom: ‘You selfish little bastard.’

  “I saw the steel-toed boot bearing down at my head. In the next few seconds either the door would open or the boot would connect with my head and it would all be over anyway. But the door did open and I rolled through the gap just as the boot came down.

  “I stumbled to my feet and ran, but even before I could get out of the circle of light cast by the overhead streetlamp, Michael grabbed me by the back of the shirt. I flew backward and crashed into the fat belly. I looked around for help, but all the other boys were in their assigned motel rooms. There was no help. I fell to my knees in front of Michael. I winced when Michael’s meaty palm flew up over his head. I prepared for a beating the likes of which neither my jaw, nor the hand, had ever felt. I turned my head, not wanting to see it coming.

  “When the strike didn’t come, I looked up at Michael. I saw the glint of silver seconds before Michael felt the twinge of pain between his shoulder blades. Michael’s hand dropped to his side, and he tried to turn and see what had caused the searing pain in his back. But he couldn’t turn. He was only able to turn around after the eight-inch hunting knife was pulled out of his back. Michael stared in shock and horror as the knife arced down and plunged into his heaving chest. He gaped disbelievingly at the green and black hilt of the hunting knife buried in his chest. I watched as the knife moved with Michael’s still beating heart.