Page 43 of A Perfect World
Get it together.
Flipping up the hood of my jacket, I stepped out into the rain. My boots splashed through puddles shimmering with oil and floating cigarette butts. Glancing around, I knocked once. A minute passed as rain drummed into my head and soaked my clothes. Involuntary shivers skittered through my feverish skin.
The door squealed in protest, the clink of the chain lock feigning safety.
Eyes vibrating, the chain ripped free, my boot knocking in the door.
A shrill scream rattled my over-sensitive brain.
It certainly lived up to the stereotype of a grimy motel: green faded carpet dotted with little burn marks, a metal bed dressed in stained floral sheets and a droning box TV from decades ago propped on an antique dresser. I cocked my head at the frail, cowering woman.
“Hey Grandma, heard you were in town, thought I’d pay you a visit.”
She screamed, legs giving out, shaky hands pointing a gun at me.
I knew there’d be at least one.
A glance and it rocketed out of her hands into mine. I tucked it into my hoodie.
“Now that’s not a very nice way to greet your grandson,” I scolded. Her once light brown hair was almost completely gray, with skin dripping like stretched out putty off her bones. She crawled backwards, hit the dresser and set the TV rattling.
I prowled closer.
“They said they’d kill me if I didn’t do what they wanted,” Clarice wailed.
I squatted in front of her and studied her: nose a sharp beak, mouth a thin gash opened in horror, and eyes like the oily, gritty puddles outside.
“And you thoughtIwouldn’t kill you?”
The scent of urine filled my nose. “Please, please, they promised not to hurt anyone if you go willingly.”
A dark laugh left me. Her jaw snapped shut with a click of her dentures. “Fool. This isn't about protecting anyone. This is about you wanting a fat cut of the money they promised my father.”
The scared old lady act fell. “Hewantedto be free of you.” She spat. I fought the natural inclination to flinch at her words. “Jane is an imbecile for hiding what you are for so long. They should’ve returned you like the damaged goods you are. You’re an abomination-”
My eyes tingled, her head slamming into the dark wood, the metal toggle handles jingling. Her yelp cut off as she caught sight of my eyes.
“No. I’m exactly what they intended to create: A weapon,” I growled, getting in her face. “But they didn’t account for this weapon having a mind of his own. I don’t think they understand the scope of what they’ve done, but I’ll make my point crystal clear.”
“You’re a demon- a spawn of Satan!”
I’d had enough of her voice. A flick of my eyes and her jaw clamped shut.
“Point made, Grandma,” I snapped. “Now, before I kill you, you’re going to give me everything you have on Merit.”
The fire in her drained from her leathery skin until she was the color of soggy parchment. She clutched the cross around her throat, her lips moving in silent prayer.
“Your God can’t save you, Clarice. No one can.”
The tunnel into her mind flooded with panic and prayers and fear, so potent the taste of metal filled my mouth. I wracked her brain for everything concerning Merit but found nothing beyond the same limited information from the letters, Dad’s emails and Mom’s mind. I cataloged the name of her contact- Blackthorn, same as Dad’s- but I’d gotten all I could.
Like pulling the pin on a grenade, I released every ounce of hoarded power. I took a fucking sledgehammer to her mind, machetes to her motor functions, a machine gun to her memories. I kept pushing the thrum of power into her- a nuclear explosion scorching through the tunnel back into me, trickles tickling down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop- not until I was sure she was obliterated.
At the last second, I ripped from her imploding brain, the world streaked like the view outside a speeding car's window. My ass slammed to the ground. Gushing blood oozed down my cheeks, a power drill demolishing my eye-sockets.
Screaming. Someone was screaming.
No,Iwas screaming.
