First Born (7 page)

Feeling deflated, she returned to the front mat. The temperature was in the high seventies. Flowering dogwoods, redbuds, and cherry trees lined the street sending pastel blooms into the air. A slight breeze stirred, bringing with it a plethora of irresistible aromas. In her past life, this was the kind of day she would have relished. She and Katie would have gone to drink sangrias at one of the restaurants that had seating on an outside patio.

Instead, she relieved herself in the grass then came back to rest with her beard on her front paws. She fretted over the revelations made about her deceased father. Her thoughts turned to Mr. Liu. She prayed he held the answers. Lily remembered Li Liu as a quiet, but fierce individual. She guessed he must be nearing fifty years old by now.

He could be gentle as he was the night he consoled her mother over their father’s murder. He never hugged or shook hands with the kids, but rather taught them how to bow in respect to their elders. The few Chinese words Lily knew, she had learned from Mr. Liu. Her mother had rejected her past, Americanizing as much as possible, even dropping her Chinese name, Chanjuan, and going by Maggie.

Lily’s current condition had her reconsidering family dynamics. Her grandmother was a proud woman who Seth and Lily only met twice. The first time was in grade school when they traveled to China. The second time was when she came to the states for her son-in-law’s funeral. Their grandfather was an American businessman who had met their grandmother when marketing to the Far East. He died of a stroke in his sixties. Arthur Moore’s parents were both gone, as well. They had died the year before her father’s death. She wondered if her grandparents had known about their son’s uniqueness.
How could they not?
Lily didn’t know them well, either. They had spent much of their time in Florida.

The thump of a bass drum drew her head up. Snatches of obscure voices and techtronic rhythms drifted to her along with the engine hum of a luxury car. Larry coasted down the street with the Chemical Brothers blasting from the speakers of his convertible. The pulse and thump of the music lent interesting orchestration to the blooms swirling in the wind. As soon as Larry pulled into the driveway, she ran to him. He opened the garage, but didn’t pull forward. Throwing the car into park, he opened the driver’s door, allowing her to leap into his arms.

“You little shit! Where did you go? I was scared to death.” He looked to her expecting an answer. She buried her face into the crook of his neck and smelled him—grilled salmon from lunch mixed with his cologne that filled her nose with notes of bergamot, cinnamon, patchouli, sandalwood, and leather.

He drove into the garage with her on his lap. As soon as he opened the car door, she jumped down and waited to be let in. Larry carried his computer bag with him as he let her into the house. “You must be starving. You never ate breakfast,” he said.

My hero.
Some people looked to muscle-bound men with big guns for rescue, but at this moment, Larry with his pear-shaped body clad in a crisp white shirt, lavender pullover, and white slacks was a god!

Before starting his meal prep in the kitchen, Larry created a top knot with her fur and positioned a magenta bow in the middle of her forehead. “You look adorable.” He snapped several pictures. The only reason she tolerated it was because she could smell the chicken on the counter.

When he began cooking Paula Dean’s recipe for fried chicken, she almost forgot about her troubles and the latest news about her father. However, betrayal is a prolific virus. Once it burrows deep into your core fibers, it’s difficult to shake. Her parents’ deception was not sitting well. When she thought about her father withholding this information from her, she felt ill.

The tranquil night contrasted with Seth’s state of mind as he stole away from the Ansley Park home. One block east on Barksdale Drive, he slipped into his Dodge Ram truck. His hands were sweating as he started the vehicle.

For Christ’s sakes, I’m not a crook.
He had parked his truck one block away since he wasn’t sure how to explain what he was doing at the side of Larry and Frank’s house with a bag full of chick stuff. But he had promised Lily a care package and he delivered it behind the air conditioning unit as they had agreed.

The time glowed green on the dash, 11:54.

It had felt weird to be close to Lily, yet unable to talk to her. He had been tempted to peer inside the impressive home, but “Peeping Tom” was not a skill set he’d like listed on his resume.

Seeing the place in person, he now appreciated why Lily referred to it as “the Manor.”
At least she’s comfortable and safe.

Seth turned on to Peachtree Street. His shoulders relaxed as he drew closer to home. Tomorrow was another challenge. Before his work shift at 11:00 a.m., he planned to visit Li Liu at his home in Kennesaw. The retired officer was expecting him.

It had been six years since his dad’s death, but Seth still cringed when he heard Mr. Liu’s voice over the phone. His father’s colleague had always been warm and supportive, but at this point in Seth’s life, it was just
too
familiar.

Mr. Liu’s voice had tripped that wire, the one holding everything together. Seth had pushed all reminders of his father into a mental box, locked away. He
never
opened that box. Not ever. But tomorrow he would be forced to cope with his sorrow and anger. His sister’s life depended on it.

* * *

Seth slept curled in a ball, blankets pulled over his head while morning light flooded into his sparse Buckhead apartment. He was on the black futon in his living room. When he opened his eyes, he was convinced workers were blasting dynamite inside his skull. He squinted as his eyes adjusted. The microwave clock in his galley kitchen told him it was time to get up.

He shook his head when he noticed a half bottle of Bailey’s Irish Cream left on his coffee table.
That explains the headache.
He extricated himself from the blankets before stumbling toward the bathroom.

The warm spray from the shower did little for his headache. As he sang Linkin Park’s “What I’ve Done,” he felt a sensation rush up his spine as a high-pitched sound reached his waterlogged ears. He cracked the sliding door and peered out into the steam.

“Where did you come from?”

The neighbor’s cat, Cocoa, reposed on the toilet lid. She had been singing her eerie accompaniment to Chester Bennington’s lyrics of erasing himself and starting anew.

“This is not my life,” Seth said closing the door.

Cocoa shadowed him through the apartment as he finished getting ready. Seth donned the standard uniform of black pants and a white oxford shirt. The cat walked out the front door with him after a breakfast of tuna fish compliments of Chef Seth. He tried to prepare himself for his reunion with his dad’s ex-partner. He heard Mr. Liu had renovated an old farmhouse and kept horses.

But Seth wasn’t up for a pony ride. It felt more like he was hurtling down the first hill of a rollercoaster at Six Flags. Seth had been sixteen, Lily twenty, when Gerald Owens shot their father. The emotions were still so raw; they caused his stomach to drop, his body to experience a disorienting weightlessness.

Burping up banana, he leaned across to turn on the radio. Marilyn Manson’s “Beautiful People” blasted from the radio.
Ah mind-numbing distraction.
He didn’t need to think about the stranger who killed Barney, the police dog, and Arthur Moore. He turned up the volume, allowing the blaring guitar to clear his head as he sang along. It was a bit painful with his headache, but he preferred it to the other sensation.

His singing turned to swearing as he exited Interstate 75 by Town Center Mall. He gritted his teeth, weaving in and out of traffic until the congestion dispersed and he reached Stilesboro Road. Four miles further north, he saw red paint bleeding through the white blossoms of the Bradford pear trees. The barn told him he was in the right place as did the horseshoe archway over the entrance.

As he pulled in front of the gray ranch home, two German shepherds raced toward the car. The retired police dogs emitted that high-pitched cry a canine makes when it’s identified something irresistible. The flash of white teeth sent Seth dashing across the yard like a scared little girl. He rang the doorbell just as the larger dog pinned him against the side of the house. He felt its warm breath on his neck. The screen door creaked then Mr. Liu’s round face peered out.

“Tonka. Spike. Down!”

The dogs dropped to their bellies behind Seth as their master emerged from the home.

Seth remembered to breathe. He dug deep inside to recover his pride after such a display.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay, Seth?”

“Yeah. Don’t you feed them?” joked Seth while his eyes darted behind him to check on the dogs.

“They’re usually so well-behaved,” Li said as he shook his head. “So strange.”

They both looked at the dogs that drooled and panted.

“Please, come in.”

Seth crossed the threshold then bowed to Mr. Liu out of habit.

Li Liu returned the bow. “Look how tall you are now!” he said beaming.

Seth flashed a self-conscious smile.

“Six foot like your father?”

“Yes, sir,” said Seth.

The two dogs whined through the screen door. Mr. Liu peered around Seth and commanded, “Go now.” The dogs obeyed.

Seth followed him across the wide-plank hardwood floor of the 1930’s home. The décor was comfortable and eclectic. Above the stone fireplace hung a colorful robe that caught Seth’s attention.

“That was my great grandfather’s ceremonial robe.”

“Cool,” Seth said, his mouth agape. The red silk robe was aged, but maintained with meticulous care.

“Sit.” Liu said.

Seth obeyed. Mr. Liu plopped into a worn recliner while Seth settled into the microsuede couch continuing to examine his surroundings as he gathered his thoughts. This was not your typical southern farmhouse. Atop the entertainment center was a jian in a green ray skin scabbard. Seth resisted the impulse to forget everything and go study the sword.

“So, you’re retired now?” Seth asked, pulling his eyes back to Mr. Liu.
Interesting retirement.

“Yes, I spent four years with the Marietta Police Department’s K-9 Unit and then I hung up my hat.” Mr. Liu pushed the armrests forward bringing forth the footrest. “I keep busy, though. I have the horses and recently opened a Shaolin martial arts studio. Both bring me tremendous satisfaction.”

Mr. Liu leaned over, his eyes wide and bright. “You do kung fu?”

“Ah, no,” said Seth. “Tried karate when I was nine, but I lacked discipline. I...quit.”

“Ah, perhaps it was not you that quit, but the Master who quit you,” said Mr. Liu furrowing his brow.

Seth smiled in appreciation before leaning back further on the couch.

“So. What can I do for you?” asked Liu.

Could I borrow that polearm for a few days?
Seth glanced at the large weapon hanging on the wall behind Li Liu’s head. It occurred to him that he was in the belly of a warrior’s den; surely he could summon some courage.

“I have questions about my father.”

“Yes,” stated Liu. “I expected to hear from you or Lily one day. I have tried to call both of you several times.”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Liu. We didn’t mean to be rude. I guess we were both so self-absorbed.”

“No apologies necessary.” Worry flashed across his face. “Sorry to hear about Lily’s disappearance. Have you learned anything about her whereabouts?”

Seth hesitated. The way Mr. Liu posed the question made it almost impossible to respond without lying. “The police haven’t shared much with me. I think she’s alive, but has been hurt.” Seth’s Adam’s apple bobbed erratically in his throat as he attempted to swallow.

Out of courtesy, Mr. Liu dropped his intense gaze. “Disturbing circumstances—her boyfriend. Now the neighbor.”

Seth cleared his throat and wiped his sweaty palms on his pants. “That’s why I’m here Mr. Liu. I’m trying to gather information about Dad; well, about me and my family.”

“You can ask me anything.”

Seth stalled.

“Anything,” repeated Liu.

Seth looked into the eyes of the dragon on Li Liu’s familial robe. “My Dad
shifted,
didn’t he?” He never met Liu’s eyes.

“Yes.”

Seth didn’t breathe. He hadn’t expected such a quick response.

“Barney?”

“Yes,” said Mr. Liu, suddenly puzzled. “I thought your grandmother explained this all to you and Lily.”

“Waipo?” Seth asked, finally meeting the man’s gaze. He tried to squelch the anger that ignited in his stomach. “I’ve only seen my mom’s mother twice in my life. She didn’t stay long when she came for Dad’s funeral. Why would
she
know about Dad’s situation?”

“Arthur insisted she was the only person who understood.”

“My father never talked about my mom’s side of the family.”

“That’s disappointing,” Liu said looking troubled. “You must be so confused. Are you having some...problems?” He posed the question like they were engaged in an awkward father-son talk about sex.

It made Seth chuckle. “You have no idea.”

“Oh, I have some idea,” said Mr. Liu. “Remember, I dealt with your father.” His eyes grew wide. “Seth, are you a Malinois?”

“No.”

“Have fur?”

Seth looked at the ground.

“Or
feathers
?” whispered Li Liu more to himself.

Seth bristled. “If you don’t mind, I don’t like to talk about my issues in detail.” A sense of foreboding crawled over his skin as he looked around the house at the Chinese prints of warriors and the sporadic display of antique weaponry.

“Sure. Why don’t I let you ask the questions?”

“Thanks.” He unclenched his hands.
Where do I start?
Seth finally settled on one word. “How?”

“Shapeshifting?”

“Yeah. Is there a logical explanation?”

“Logic? Hmmmm. I suppose there are a myriad of elaborate explanations or hypotheses out there. I can only tell you what I believe from my years as a witness.”