Feral (32 page)

I missed my
family.  During our Skype call that morning, I could barely refrain from begging them to come get me.  I cried, but only after mom cried first so that I could lay blame for my tears elsewhere.  Then I used the excuse of having to cook so that I could terminate the chat early.  After which, I promptly shut my computer down.  Then I rolled over and went back to sleep.  Turkey be damned, I had nothing to give thanks for this holiday season, and the hell if I was going to slave over a hot stove for a bunch of ingrates that had no need for mundane food.

Icarus insisted on driving me too and from school,
when I adamantly refused to leave the bed. I was running on only a few hours sleep, stolen in the early hours of morning after hunting, if time allowed for it.  I wanted to apply for a proficiency exam so that I could graduate early, but he didn’t consider it an option.  In his warped and twisted mind, I was still attending college.

“It’s not the same as a GED. 
I’ll just get my diploma early, and I’ll still be eligible for college.  I have all the necessary credits needed if I decide to go.”

“Not if; When
.”

“
My point exactly.  I have all the time in the world, don’t I?  I’m immortal.”

“You need to get out of the house.  It would be good for you to be around other people your age.  Girls,
specifically.  You know…a social outlet.”

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it—because I’m not talking to you?”

“You don’t talk to
any
of us.  You’re not coping; you’re withdrawing.  It’s not healthy.  I’m worried about you.”

Torn between wanting to
acknowledge his claims and wanting to shun him further, I leaned my head against the car window, watching my breath fog the glass like the miasma of fear and antagonism my life had become.  Fortunately, the warning bell rang, absolving me of either.

“Go,” Icarus sighed, resigned.  “You’ll be late for class.”

With relief, I jumped from the car and jogged to my first class.

I can’t say things didn’t improve. 
I did find an outlet, and in an unusual place.  During first period not a week later, I felt like God threw me a bone when Mr. Holloway transitioned the curriculum from chemistry to biology.  I loved biology.  As he gave us the outline of the semester, I regained an appreciation for science, if not a sliver of hope for my so-called life.

Systems Biology for Infectious Disease Research.  That was the catalyst to lure me from my depression.  It was the answer to finding my cure.  Yes, cure.  I deve
loped a newfound determination; I threw myself into the study of biological processes in microbial organisms.

A.k.a pathogens.  Germs.  Bacterium.  Viruses.  Prions.  Funguses.

Mr. Holloway was more than thrilled to find a student who shared an avid interest in science.  He became my mentor and I his dedicated disciple.  He fed me books, research papers, and pamphlets for breakfast, lunch and dinner.  I was a machine.  I studied any moment I wasn’t physically challenged by the lack of opposable thumbs or the necessary amount of sleep required to continue functioning throughout day; though, everyone questioned my judgment on the latter.  I ignored their observations, choosing science over the need for beauty rest.

ΑΒΩ

Crispin paced the room, returning time and again to my window overlooking the driveway.  While I couldn’t hold a grudge against him to save my life, he was annoying me terribly with his constant disruptions.  My hardwood floor did little to muffle his treading.

“Crispin, if what you’re looking for is so enticing, beat it.  I’ve just read this chapter three times, and it’s not so interesting that I feel like reading it a fourth.  Now go.”

“It’s Christmas eeeeeevvvvveeee,” Crispin whined, sprawling across the foot of my bed in a back flop.  My papers flew up in the air and drifted back down, scattering like leaves across my mattress and floor.  I scowled at the offense.  “Can’t you put the books away for two days?”

“No.”

“Tonight then.  We’re having some friends over.  Besides, it’s blasphemy to work on Christmas—it’s Jesus’ birthday.”

“You’re not Christian,” I said, not bothering to lift my nose from the book I was attempting to read.  “You’re a heathen.”

“Dude, that’s harsh.”

“You’re right,” I apologized. 
That was so politically incorrect it was pathetic.  “What I meant to say was you’re polytheistic.”  This only caused his nose to wrinkle.

“You read too much.”

True, but I had to believe it would pay off in the end.

“Put the book down and come celebrate with us.”

“You don’t celebrate Christmas.”

“We celebrate Saturnalia and I hate to tell ya, it’s been around way longer than Christmas.  Your people plagiarized our holidays and called ‘em your own
, and I know, because my grandparents were around to witness it all.”

“Go away.”

“Nope.  I think I’ll just sit here and read with you.  Out loud.  I need the practice.  Lots and lots of practice.  You don’t mind do you?”  Randomly grabbing one of the papers scattered across my bed, he began reading aloud.  “Lupus is an autoimmune disease that can affect various parts of the body, including the skin, joints, heart, lungs, blood, kidneys, and brain…”

“Crispin…!” I growled in warning, grabbing for the thesis.  He rolled, taking the paper with him as he continued to read.
  I was going to strangle him, the little twerp.

“
Normally, the body's immune system makes proteins called antibodies to protect…”

“
Come on!”

“…
the body against viruses, bacteria, and other foreign materials. These foreign materials are called antigens.”  Dropping the paper to his side, he looked at me inquisitively.  “Lupus, huh?  Is there a reason you’re studying lupus?  Do you think it’s related to us? It can’t be purely coincidental.  Lupus…Canis Lupus?”

“
The only coincidence is that you chose today of all days to bug the shit out of me, while I’m reading that specific paper.  Now give it back.”  Tearing the paper from his hand, I smoothed it out where he crinkled it in his grasp.

“Why are you reading about diseases?  Do you want to be a doctor?
”

“
Of sorts.”

“What do you mean?  A doctor’s a doctor, right?”

“No.  There’re all different kinds of doctors.  I want to be a virologist.”

“What’s that—someone who studies virility?”

I choked on my own spit and had to pound my own chest.  “No,” I coughed.  “Viruses, dumbhead.  Virility is the state of masculinity.  I know all I want about male sexual potency.”

“Oh,” Crispin muttered, reddening profusely. 
“What are you trying to…”  The sound of Icarus’s car coasting up the driveway sent him running to the window, subject forgotten.  “They’re here!  Come on Thale, come down!  Please please please please pleeeeeaaaassseee!”

“You’re not
gonna leave me alone until I do, are you?”  The point was moot.  He was already tugging me toward the stairs by my arm with short little jerks, in tandem with his frenetic skipping.  He reminded me of Tiny Tim with Scrooge when he was well enough to walk at the end.  How satirically appropriate that it was Christmas.  (As an afterthought, I realized that would make me Scrooge.)

“No
, so just shut it and come down!”  Abandoning my arm, he ran down the stairs, his footfalls zooming down the steps like a jackhammer in his haste to greet our company.

Perhaps with the distraction, he’d forget about me altogether.

Smiling roguishly, Bacchus appeared at the bottom of the stairs.  “You don’t want to miss this.  Come on.  Come meet Crispin’s girlfriend.”  I didn’t miss the inflection he placed on ‘girlfriend’, as in girlfriend and not girl friend.  The kissing kind.

“
Girlfriend
?”  My eyebrows rose in question.  Crispin never mentioned a girl.  Howbeit, I haven’t exactly been available for conversation lately.  Admittedly, I’d been downright unsociable.

“I think you turned him onto the goth kind with you
r pink streaks and that liner stuff you smudge around your eyes.”

“It was a costume.”  I tried not to grimace over his mention of that particular night, but it must have shown, because Bacchus’s smile abruptly faded.

“I just meant that you set the bar for expectations.”

“
I’m not sure I should be setting the bar for anyone’s expectations, especially Crispin’s.  I’ll have ruined his sex life before it started.  Not that Crispin should be thinking about that yet.  God, I hope he’s not thinking about that already.”

“Hell, he’s
fourteen.  Who are you kidding?”

“I. Am. Not. A. Kid!”

Snickering conspiratorially, Bacchus and I descended the main stairs into the kitchen.  Lucius was busy at the stove, looking slightly flustered, yet determined, having accepted the challenge of preparing the Saturnalia feast.  (I still had my doubts of this being a real holiday; I’d have to Google it later.)  With his hand at the small of my back, Bacchus guided me to the living room where the guests were gathering, out of the kitchen and ultimately out of Lucius’s way.

“You’re going to love her.  She’s adorable.”

I shushed him with my elbow, reluctant to embarrass Crispin more than he already was.  He’d probably suffered enough torment at their hands already, which was why he probably spent the morning in my room, evading their attention.

She was
goth, raven haired and lanky.  A little on the boyish side in figure.  She wore a black and purple lace tutu with a baby doll tee, and black leather Doc’s that laced up to her knees.  She stood taller than Crispin, about two inches, but most of that could’ve been hair.  I couldn’t tell was whether she was cute or not because she had her back to me.

What I hadn’t expected when she turned
around was the square jaw and the masculine features.  She wasn’t adorable at all.  She smiled, fiddling nervously with her lip ring.

I knew I failed heinously at hiding my initial reaction because all the boys snickered, including Icarus, but mortification quickly altered to amusement as I
traversed her face again.

“
You are seriously one of the ugliest girls I’ve ever met.”

Bennie smiled dryly and raised his hand.  “Hey Sis.”

ΑΒΩ

“It was ingenious, really,” Bennie proclaimed, speaking of
Dad’s plotting to deliver him covertly to our doorstep.  “Jessica Whitaker picked me up to go skating.  After we got to the rink, she snuck me into the girl’s room so I could change into this getup.  I walked out with all her friends when we left.  What’s one more girl in the group, right?  And then Icarus was parked next to her mom’s van, so when I got in, her van blocked the view and nobody could see what car I actually got into.”

He still shouldn’t have done it.  As happy as I was to see him,
he was in danger being here.  If Alec did follow him, he must’ve been furious when he realized he’d lost his mark.

“Frank is going to pick me up at the mall next week and take me home.  If anyone was watching, they’ll
just think I spent the week with him.  The rink was really busy.  Anyone could’ve slipped out in the crowd.  No one will be the wiser.”

“You’re dad’s
totally sly,” Crispin added.  “He knows his spy shit.”

“Crispin,” Icarus chided.  “Language.”

“Stuff.  He knows his stuff.”

He reads spy novels, I disagreed.
I hardly thought that made him infallible.  But Crispin and Bennie couldn’t be expected to see the danger in the situation.  It was all cloak and dagger to them.  Fun.  Fictitious.  I, on the other hand, knew it was all too real.

“Whatever it’s worth,
” Bennie said, “Jessica Whitaker now thinks I’m hot.”

Snorting, I tossed a crumb of bread at him.  “That was a horrible segue,
and if she didn’t already find your art amazing, then she’s blind and doesn’t deserve your attention.”

“
You do have some mad skills,” Crispin agreed.  “The girls must go crazy over that.”

“I’d like to see your drawings,” Hailey chimed in.
  I nearly choked on my mashed potatoes.  She’d been overly polite all night.  At first, I suspected that Icarus threatened her, but seeing her staring at my brother now, I was beginning to suspect another reason for her amenable behavior entirely.  Crispin wasn’t the only one showing Bennie a little hero worship.

Catching Icarus’s eyes across the table, I threw a warning his way.  If she came within a yard of my brother, I’d rip her
deceptive little pigtails right from her demented little head.

“I don’t have anything with me to show you,” Bennie said politely.  “I just got a new sketchbook and it’s emp
ty right now.  But if I do anything this week, I’ll show you before I go.”

Hailey beamed brightly.  I’d have to warn Bennie about her.

“Are you planning on attending art school?” Icarus inquired, making conversation.  “I’ve seen a few of your pieces.  Thaleia’s right, you definitely have the talent.”