Daywalking

The glowing orbs were back like fiery pupils staring down as they floated above him. What were they? Every fiber in his body seemed drawn to them, like he was being lifted up and away into their gaze. Their corona of darkness spread out until it bathed over him, immersing him in drowning darkness. It was warm and pleasant, but at the same time suffocating and terrifying. And then once more, the darkness broke and he was left standing at the edge of a field. The dream again.

The grass rustled around him, fingertips stretching out to touch the fine blades. Without moving his feet, he was rushing forwards, through wild, untouched fields, trees racing past in blurs, and then a halt. This field was partly cultivated. The brothers. They stood mere feet away, working the earth.

He watched as the two men worked the field, tilling the ground, using animal jawbones as tools.

Why this again? Why this dream?

The darker brother stood straight, and he knew what was coming. He watched unable to intervene as the shorter of the two brothers raised his till high and struck the other soundly in the head.

This time the dream wouldn’t let him look away. He tried to turn, but they moved with him, and the scene played on.

 The taller, younger brother fell to the ground and tried to crawl away, but his brother struck him again, and again, until his blood splashed across the broken earth. The flow of crimson boiled out and soaked into the dry soil.

Elliot jerked awake and his hands shot to the beam through his stomach. A flannel sheet got in the way and he looked around him. He was in a bedroom—the same as the other day, though this time he really was the only occupant. He crawled out of the bed, his clothes crackling with dried blood. He had a moment of panic where he felt sure that the blood must be from the brother, until his waking brain made sense of things. His shirt was ripped, and he slipped his hand through the hole, touching the tender skin underneath. How could he be sure he wasn’t dreaming still? When had things stopped seeming… real? He felt as if no time at all had passed since he’d left his own home. No, not left. Taken.

Clothes were laid out for him, folded in a neat pile on the chair in the corner. He changed hastily, the caked blood flaking off as the cloth rumpled. He reached for the doorknob just as he heard a key turn in the lock. He jerked it open and found himself face to face with Justin. They both stepped back in surprise, not sure what to expect the other to do. Justin’s tattoos swirled and twisted, and the front of his pants shifted slightly.

            ‘Uh, hi.’ He said.

‘Hi.’ They stared at one another awkwardly, and then eventually Justin’s tattoos shifted back into place as he released the protective shell he’d created around his groin.

            Elliot touched his belly again through the fabric of his new shirt. ‘Did you…?’

            Justin shook his head. ‘No. Byron…’

            ‘Oh.’

            ‘He’s our sort-of patriarch, father-figure thing.’

            ‘Ah. Ok.’ He felt it polite to respond, though he wasn’t sure what he meant.

            ‘Actually, he wants to talk to you, if you’re up for it.’

            Elliot looked back to him. His eyes had started to wander up and down the hall, taking in the lay-out. ‘Do I have a choice?’

            Justin’s brow creased. ‘Yes. He said he wanted to speak with you when you were ready.’

            Elliot considered a moment, and then nodded. Perhaps if these were the people who had made him, he could get the answers he wanted… maybe even some vengeance…

            Justin led the way along the hall, away from the front of the house, and up a circular flight of stairs at the back. The second floor was much like the first, with more closed off rooms, and what looked like a library from the brief glimpse of books Elliot caught as they passed.

            Justin stopped outside of the last door and raised his hand to knock on the wood. In a rush, Elliot caught his arm. Justin tensed, unsure, but ready to act. His tattoos twitched.

            Elliot let go of his wrist. ‘I’m… I’m sorry about kicking you,’ he said. Where had this sudden compulsion to apologize come from? ‘I didn’t know you were trying to help—’ The words felt alien to him, as if someone else spoke, but he never finished.

            This time Justin caught him by surprise by planting his lips firmly over his. He pulled away quickly though, before his contact triggered an immersion in Duat and then rapped on the door, hurrying off down the hall before the boy could say anything. Then Byron’s door opened and he was facing down—or rather, facing up—the towering black man.

            Byron looked down at him, eyes running over his frame. ‘I didn’t think you’d be on your feet this quickly. You took a pretty heavy beating.’

            ‘Sorry?’

            ‘That gang… Justin said they saw a gang running from where they found you.’

            So Justin had followed him. He tried to look past him into the room. ‘Oh. No, they didn’t do anything to me.’ He looked to Byron’s face, searching for some hint, some tell, to let him know that perhaps they had done something. But there was nothing. ‘I just… I wasn’t paying attention and I fell.’ He frowned slightly. He’d lost his chance to be in Aker’s family it seemed. Granted they hadn’t exactly made him feel welcome, but it had been at least somewhere for him to go. Now… what was left?

            Byron stood aside and gestured for him to come into his room, shutting the door behind the boy. Elliot listened for the click of a lock, but it never came. The room was cluttered, but organized. Books were arranged on the shelves, and then in piles on the floor where he’d run out of room. There was a sofa on one side, and he made a beeline towards it, taking the seat closest to the door.

            Elliot cleared his throat. ‘I understand I have you to thank for saving me.’

            Byron nodded as he took a seat at the desk, more in simple acknowledgement than anything else. ‘You’ll have to forgive us for the other night when—’

            Elliot cut him off. If Byron was going to be this accommodating, then he might as well try to find out what he wanted before the situation changed. ‘How many of you are there?’

            He crossed his legs. ‘Eight.’

            ‘And you’re all… like me.’

            ‘Ah.’ Byron nodded. ‘So you know what you are?’

            ‘Which one of you made me?’

            Byron’s visage turned sour very quickly. He pursed his lips and held Elliot’s gaze steadily. Had he given himself away? Had he let too much anger slip into his words? ‘None of us.’

            Was he lying? The club came back to him. He so clearly remembered Justin there that night. And then again later. Was it him? But then why the kiss? He filed this away for future use. They didn’t know how much he knew. He certainly didn’t trust them yet. They wanted him for something—that much was clear. Why else would Justin have tracked him down again?

            ‘Am I your prisoner here? Can I leave?’

            Byron seemed to consider this for a moment. ‘You’re not our prisoner. But do you really have anywhere else to go? We won’t lock you up here… but I would prefer if you came back, if you decide to go somewhere.’

            ‘Why?’

            ‘Think of it as protective custody. We’re just meant to watch out for you.’

            This was going somewhere now. ‘Who for?’

            ‘Just someone who wants us to look after you.’ He hummed something to himself. ‘Maybe she’ll want to see you.’

            A woman?

            Byron was still talking. ‘I’ll see her tonight. Find out if she wants to meet you. Maybe she can explain to you what this is all about.’

            So he didn’t know. Elliot ran this around and around in his head. Had she been the one? His stomach growled. How long ago had that breakfast been? He doubted his body had had much time to absorb it before he’d expelled it. ‘I’m hungry.’

            ‘The bloodbars don’t open until night-fall.’ He was told. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until then.’

            Elliot suppressed a shudder and shook his head. ‘I mean food. I want something to eat.’

            Byron looked at him curiously, and then stood and moved to his bookshelf and pulled out a book. He lifted the cover to reveal a hollow cutout, money cashed inside. He handed him several twenties. ‘There’s a convenience store a few blocks north of here.’

            Elliot didn’t ask what would happen if he tried to run. Somehow, he knew the day was well on its way towards noon, though none of the rooms had windows to see the sky. They wouldn’t be able to follow him if he chose to flee. But they’d found him in one night before. They’d just do it again. And this time, there would be no Aker to take refuge with. He thanked the larger man, and took the money.

            Byron smiled wanly as he opened his door. ‘Just make sure there’s no one in the hall when you open the door this time, and close it behind you. Justin got burnt pretty badly last time. I’d like not to have a repeat.’

            Now he really was confused. He’d kicked him in the groin and burnt him, but still he’d kissed him. Byron didn’t follow him, so he found his own way down and back to the front of the house. There were people in the living room when he passed and they looked up at him.

            He reached for the door handle, and then stopped. He turned. There he was, at the other end of the hall.

            ‘You’re a Daywalker, so I won’t stop you this time.’ Justin told him.

            ‘I’m sorry…’ Elliot tried to stammer. ‘I didn’t know before when—’

            ‘I know.’

            ‘I’m just getting some food.’

            ‘Ok.’

            ‘I’ll come back.’

            Justin smiled. ‘Ok.’

            Elliot wasn’t sure if he believed him or not. He reached for the door handle and eased it open, looking to see how far into the hall the light spilled. The sun was high enough that only a few feet of light could reach inside.

            Justin watched him step out into the daylight, and the golden glow pour down around his shoulders. It was dazzling. He’d never seen a Daywalker before. The light was almost painful just to see, and then Elliot closed the door behind him.

            He walked back slowly to the library and was about to go inside when he heard a commotion from Byron’s open door. He moved closer so he could hear what was going on.

            ‘The boy just left.’ Alyssa was telling him.

            ‘I know. He’ll come back.’ Byron didn’t seem bothered.

            ‘But he’s out in the daylight! He could go anywhere and we won’t be able to follow him ‘til nightfall!’

            ‘He’ll come back.’

            ‘How do you know?’

            He couldn’t figure why it was bothering her so much. He stuck his head around the door. Byron caught his eye and they shared a glance for just a moment. All of a sudden, he knew why Byron didn’t care. He explained to his sister exactly why. ‘Because he has nowhere else to go. And even if he does try to run away, he knows we’d just find him again once the sun goes down. He’s not stupid. He’s just getting food.’

            Alyssa looked at him. ‘Why are you defending him? He attacked you!’

            ‘Lyssa, he didn’t know. He thought we were kidnapping him.’

            ‘Oh you can hardly claim to be impartial on this. You’re so infatuated you’d let him set you on fire if he wanted. Doesn’t it seem odd that he’s getting food? He’s one of us now.’ She snapped.

            Justin blushed, but Byron seemed not to care. He stood and led Alyssa to the door. ‘I think he actually did want food. I heard his stomach growl before he asked. It is strange, but then everything about him is. He’ll come back Alyssa. Don’t worry. Now go to sleep both of you. It’s almost noon and I have to be up by sunset to go see Cassandra.’ He shut the door on them; ignoring the look Alyssa gave him.

            Justin opened his mouth, but Alyssa put up her hand and gave him such a scathing look that he thought better of it. She stalked to her room and slammed the door behind her. He went back to the library and sat down heavily in one of the plush chairs. It sent up a cloud of dust and he wrinkled his nose. He tried reading, but couldn’t concentrate. His thoughts kept running back to his sister, and Elliot. He tossed the book on the table and put his head back in exasperation. A voice startled him in the quiet room.

            ‘For a twin, you’re pretty unperceptive.’ It was Tess, sitting in the darkest corner of the room, huddled up behind a book. He wondered briefly how he’d failed to notice her, but then felt stupid for doing so. Half of what she did was try to go un-noticed.

            ‘She’s just jealous.’ She told him.

            ‘What for?’

            She got up and moved closer to him, taking the chair on the other side of the small table. Her small form barely made the springs sag, let alone kick up dust. ‘Justin, she doesn’t need to be an empath to see it. You like him. A lot.’ He tried not to blush again. ‘You two have been constant companions for as long as you both can remember.’ She pressed her fingers together. ‘You’re like this. Now she’s jealous that you’re going to start paying more attention to him than her.’

            ‘That’s just ridiculous, she’s my sister!’

            ‘Exactly. He can give you things she can’t.’

            He went silent. Was she right? But did Elliot even like him? Maybe the whole thing was just a stupid crush. After a while, he looked up at her again. ‘What about him? What was he feeling?’

            Tess chewed her bottom lip and scrunched up her face in thought before answering. ‘He was angry at first. Especially when he started talking to Byron. But then he was more just… confused. About a lot of things. I couldn’t really tell much. He’s really hard to read. But I think he’s confused about all of us, and you, and himself. I don’t blame him though. He’s only just finding out what he is.’

            ‘Yeah. I guess.’ He sighed. ‘But what should I do about Lyssa?’

            She snorted. ‘Nothing. It’s about time you two stopped pretending you were joined at the hip.’

            Leaving the store, Justin stopped on the sidewalk outside. He looked back the way he’d come, back towards the house. No point in running, but then… no point in going back right away either. Why not have some time to himself? He set out down another street, making sure he knew the way back, but soon his thoughts drifted to the events of the last few days. He should probably tell someone he was ok. So they didn’t worry about him. His housemates were probably worried sick about him. Unless… well, they might just think he’d gone off on his own again. They hadn’t been too bothered about the night he disappeared from the club. He looked up at some point, realizing he’d lost track of time and direction.

            With a shock he realized where he’d walked. There it was. Just across the street. He leaned back against the low wall and looked up at the factory. The lock still hadn’t been replaced on the gate. The chain lay coiled on the ground beneath the parted metal. He walked up to the gates, pulling them fully closed—it just seemed like the right thing to do—and stood staring through the bars. This was where it had all started… this was where—and then it hit him.

            This wasn’t where it had started. He’d seen Justin and the girl in the club. He felt sure that he was missing something. That he’d forgotten something between. Before the building. It was somewhere dark… somewhere… somewhere near the club. He turned from the factory and ran up the street. He used the change from Byron’s money to catch the first bus into town he found, dismounting when he thought he was near the club.

            It was day-time, so of course the place was closed. But standing on the street, looking up at it, his eyes were drawn to the garbage dumpster at the side of the building, and the darkened alley behind. He peered around the corner. It was full of litter and a few broken bottles, but empty otherwise. The sunlight seemed to vanish the moment he stepped inside. Here, the buildings were too close together to let the sunlight reach the bottom at any time other than noon. He walked to the back entrance to the club, grocery bags bouncing off his legs occasionally. He reached up and touched the metal door, and winced as his back felt a sudden burst of remembered pain. He saw himself flung against the opposite brick wall, and then a fist. He winced as he saw himself punched, and slighted his head away.

            It was coming back in a rush now. Running and running, trying to escape, and then another blow across the face. One to the stomach, and then a third had sent him sprawling. He ran, following his steps that night, around the corner. The fence stood tall before him. He felt his throat constrict, as if that hand was gripping it once more. The man had loomed closer, and then… and then… he couldn’t remember. He tried to remember the face, but it was swallowed by shadow. Something rattled in the alley through the fence and he started. He didn’t wait to see what it was, but turned on his heel and ran. He didn’t stop running either, until he was several blocks away, and stopped just in time to catch a bus.

He looked at his watch. High time he went back now.