Siphon (Siphon Chronicles, Book One) (5 page)

BOOK: Siphon (Siphon Chronicles, Book One)
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LARK

Cat’s Out of the Bag

 

I was not uncomfortable in my own skin until someone made me feel less than normal.  That was often.  But with this boy, it was the first time I was...accepted.

“You take from the young because they like it—when they like you first.  You smell their happiness and yet the old make you sad and left spent.  I take from the old and dying for which feel happy and at peace with what I take but feel torn apart by the young.  Do you not find this a little baffling?”

  “Well put, but what does it mean?” he asked the air, not me.

Was it my imagination or was he leaning toward me more?  I counted the inches in the air between our knees.  Ten.

“What are you doing?” he asked following my eyes.

Darn.  No one ever paid me this much attention except Foster.  And that was a poor comparison.

“Nothing.  Why are you here?”  I asked innocently.

His demeanor changed as he moved away from me.  Five inches away to be precise.

“Passing through.  I won’t be here long.”

Pish!  Liar!

He withdrew from me even more, hiding something.  He would leave.  Why pain shot up my spine at the thought, I didn’t know.  I wanted to know more.  I knew Jason was wrong.  This boy wasn’t pure evil. What else was Jason wrong about?

“You’re not the evil they say.  You paint the picture for them to see for a reason, but I can’t see the motive for it.  Maybe it’s because all the rest of them are like something else.”  Wait.  I lurched forward in his direction, “Was I wrong?  What if they aren’t like me.  What if they don’t know you can take from the old like me to make them happier and reduces their suffering?  Are there others like you?  What if—“

DANE

Trading Secrets

 

I put my finger up to her lips shutting off the questions, absentmindedly lacing my thumb across her top lip.  I’d only been able to do it few times before I changed at eighteen and the gesture was always a ploy to get the girl to do what I wanted.  Now, with this girl, it was a chance to touch her.  She was on a roll and this was a no fail technique that always stopped a girl from a monologue minus the pain I held back by holding my breath because I didn't
want
to take their years on purpose.  That was a sign of weakness on my part. This girl made me do things I shouldn’t.  I wanted her trust.

The flowery scent swarmed me hinting mostly of honeysuckle.  I knew the scent because it covers every section of the woods across the southern states where I often have to hide out in stalker fashion for the next siphon relay.  It meant so much more to me now.  I blinked and cleared my vision only to see her cheeks were crimson as I yanked my finger back forgetting my place momentarily. 

If I thought her previous statements affected my philosophies, the next realization altered my existence.

She licked her lips, closed her eyes.  She did things with such precision.  And her brisk ability to move her arms and legs caused one to blink and check their eyesight.  A little too brisk.

Realization hit her when I raised my nose to the air. 

“What do I smell like?”

Heck, I loved her cheeks.  They did things to me too.  “Like honeysuckle.”

She darted her dare me eyes away.  “It that the norm?”

What was she wanting?  “No.  No one has ever matched that scent.”

Her turn.  “What do you taste?” I asked deciding it would be better to swap secrets and feel easier to give when we get. We hadn't taken yet, so we were both still in the safe zone. We all know what happened to the cat in this stage of curiosity.

If that was a blush before, this was a pool of sweet color screaming things like shame and regret.  Worse, she looked me straight in the eye and licked her pink lips, “Like smoke.  A deep, burning cedar-like smoke.”

She was making me adjust the way I sat with her voice alone, but I had to ask the next question and I wanted her to have little regret for wanting to tell me anything.  “And that is the norm?”

“Never found it before...but I’ve only tasted two others our age.”

Wrong again.  I’m not the age she thinks I am.  I’d save that for later.  But I was suddenly enraged to know who the other two were.  I wanted to smash their faces in.  What the heck was wrong with me?

“I’m not sure what to tell you now other than the old all taste the same,” she confessed. 

I sure as hell wasn’t sure what to say next.  “I think we should both get some rest and see each other tomorrow.”

I should not be able to find her scent like a dang trail.  Never before had it happened and I’d been around hundreds of my own kind.  And again, I
haven't
taken any energy or essence from her even when she offered.  I needed to visit a friend for some answers, but he was too far.  Instead, it would have to be a friend of a friend.

LARK

Sleep the Thoughts Away

 

I knew he watched me get into the Avenger and drive away without any further goading questions.  I did watch him get in his own car that I noted was a topless Jeep.  Wasn’t he cold?  It’s not like it’s summer or even spring.  Too hot for a sweater, but chilly in this temperature.

I’d promised Sam I’d go shopping with her.  She plopped down the cash for Amber to get her jacket for winning the bet at my vehement disapproval.  She muttered something about her not ever thinking I would trust men again and it was worth it.

I didn’t think I was trusting
men
again yet.  Did I trust Daniel?

At home, I went straight to my room, bypassed the mom on the sofa watching old Oprah shows for advice probably on how to get your estranged stepdaughter to be normal again (not that I ever was), grabbed a Granny Smith apple off the dining room table, and skipped two stairs at a time to escape my life. 

Having my own bathroom was the best thing in the world though I had to share it with Amber.  She was a great sister.  I have never once felt like the stepchild I was around her.  I changed into my yoga pants and tank, slid under the covers, and closed my eyes at five twenty-seven p.m. 

If the voting booth of life included naming one of those days that topped all others, this would be one of them.

The next morning, I was different.  I felt swimmy headed and light like a feather. 
Funky
didn’t even describe it well.  I needed energy something awful.

Third day of school.  Third day of Daniel Crawford.  What the heck was I going to do about him?

 
DANE

Information Highway

 

I hurried through the suburbs and out past the outskirts of Dallas to the once small town of Frisco.  A friend of a friend lived there permanently.  I understood he took from the dying only and that was the information I needed.

I called, got directions, and headed that way.

I parked in front of his condo noting the reflection of the rust my Jeep left shining in the window.  Pristine and pricy.  That was the neighborhood. Moving around, I’d been in many circles.  Being a siphon with my job status had its advantages.

Knocking, I took one step back to watch for movement with an experiment in mind too.

He was dressed, hardly, in jeans.  Tall like myself and around the same age physically, he shook my hand then like the rest, moved away like he was in disgust.  Making myself unnoticed in my actions, I took a whiff. Nothing but aftershave. 

Check!   Whether it was good or bad at this point, I didn’t want to think on it.

“Can I ask you a few questions?”  We’d already formed niceties on the phone.

“Shoot man.  Gotta leave in a few, but I got five if you can scream through a room as I get dressed.”

I nodded and stepped across the threshold.  A girl darted across the other end of the hall in nothing but a sheet.  Crap!

“I can come back, man.”

“Nope.  I’m good.”  He followed my eyes.  “My wife knows.  She is good with it.  More than I deserve.”

Shocked on several accounts, first being married, I asked, “She’s okay with it?”

He laughed. “At first she was mortified and hated the idea.  Then she decided I was too irresistible and that she couldn’t stay away.”

I heard a distinct “harrumph” come from the hidden room she scurried over too.

“She knows she has it good.”

Maybe this was the wrong guy to talk to about this?  “Look, I just want to know something.”

“Shoot,” he slapped on an over shirt while I stood in the kitchen area now.

I didn’t want to shout this out loud for some human girl to hear.  It wasn’t right. 

“Carl by the way,” he stuck his hand out.

“Dane.” 

He looked back in the direction of his wife and I frowned thinking maybe I should leave anyway.  “She is cool man, but I understand your hesitation.”  He moved to the barstool and sat. 

I lowered my voice and took the plunge.  “I understand you siphon from the old.”  He nodded and looked at the clock.  “They are okay with you taking it from them, right?”

He nodded again.  “They deal with it, yeah.”

Not much of a talker.

“Your wife feel it?”

“Not if I’m full up.”

“On old, young, dying.  What do you siphon?”

The guy stopped for the briefest of seconds and stared at me like I might just be the evildoer he was expecting.  “Whatever is handy.  They all hurt like heck.”

I’d heard that from many.  “You smell their want? Taste it?"

His face completely changed?  “What the hell, man?  Not!  Just feel it.  Know their fear or willingness, whatever they choose.  If they like me, they never knew what hit them.”

That’s the winning bulls-eye folks.  I was pissed off for no good reason.  I didn’t want it to be different.  It would mean I have to confront the idea of what those reasons are.

“Thank you for your time.”

He looked at me weird. “Whatever, dude.  Don’t meet many of my own.  You live around here?”

“Not at the time.  Passing through Dallas.  Arlington for now.”

“Call me up.  Grab a chick and join us for a game of pool one night.  You the Daniel Crawford the council’s in an uproar about?”

“And?” I straightened defensively.

“It’s cool and all.  You just don’t seem that...evil villainesque as they say.”

Not since three days ago.

I smiled in earnest, my cool still held on the face of it.  “Thanks for your time.”

             

LARK

Physical Science

 

I was overly excited to see my archenemy at school.  Five more minutes and I would see his bulky all-muscle stride walk in the room.   Not that I noticed anything about his stomach muscles through the dark t-shirt the day before.                Would he be the arrogant know-it-all or the open and honest real guy I saw yesterday?

I needed to see Jason and ask questions but fear of him sending Daniel away kept me silent. I wanted to know more about myself and what I was.

Amber headed off yelling for me to start acting normal again and that Sam already borrowed the new jacket.  She’d hinted that I was indifferent to her wardrobe choice and that was unacceptable and that maybe this new guy was good medicine for me or something like that.  I only half listened.  I had other things on my mind.

I beat him to second period and sat down at the lab where I was one table behind him.  He was paired with Foster.  I was paired with Sam, my busybody best friend who thought she was now in charge of my possible love life.  Or at least I thought was my best friend.  I worried now who the talk around the school was coming from since only she would know some things, i.e. Foster and the past.  She was so angry I didn’t show up at the pizza place to meet Foster.  I didn't care about that either.

I haven't daydreamed this much about a guy in so long regardless of whether he was off limits.  It was just daydreaming.

Sam greeted me with a fake kiss in the air as she pulled up next to me. I hurried to look busy before anyone else entered the classroom. Her neon pink nails that blinded everyone in the room matched the gooey substance in the beaker beside us.  I wanted to ask the teacher what all this Physical Science class included since all we've seen were “chemistry” experiments so far.  I started a search through the index for the strange V word description the beaker had on the side when Sam interrupted my thoughts.

“Oh, girl.  Dish it.  I heard that Foster is first in line and the new boy, Dane was closing in.”

I rolled my eyes.  That’s how rumors get started…

“No on the Foster news.  Not gonna happen.  As for Daniel, I hate him remember?”

“Yeah right.  I saw you with him.  If hate means two inches of distance between you and your worst enemy, I’m a monkey’s uncle.  You are so into him.”

I ignored her naturally. 

“And he is so into you.” My reaction was silent, but her gasp was too delayed to be in response to her own comment.

My eyes shot up at her mouthy reaction to something I couldn’t see behind me.  Was she creating some chemical reaction in the wrong science class?  That about describes Sam.

My eyes didn’t see science at all unless you count six foot two and all muscle
physical
science. 

              His heavy feet pounded in my ears.  His eyes drilled holes in my soul.  He didn't look anywhere but at me.  Was he trying to cause a scene?

Daniel stopped right in front of me forcing me to acknowledge him.  I refused to call him Dane to his face.  It made him sound like a nice guy.  I preferred to stick with his evil-minded name I’d known him for.

He never took his eyes off me now as he asked Sam with one of his same killer smiles, “Mind if we switch partners?”

In the biggest wide mouth expression I’ve ever seen on my best friend, she never answered him but moved her books in a floaty motion up one lab desk.

Never protesting like I should, I just watched.  That was becoming a habit with him around.  Watch the predator scan his meal in slow motion under the cover of darkness.  Then he moves like stealth and pounces at the unlikeliest of times.

Delayed by my staring, I refocused and started in on my refusal.  “What the bleeping—“

My words stopped and my attention went to Foster whom I could taste on the moving air.  That was one drawback to my “condition”. After I siphoned the younger victims, they carried the “scent” in the air with them.  It’s hard to explain; you just know they are near you.  Only Daniel had ever had a specific scent and taste combined.  As if it was one sense.  All others were the same.  So it was either Foster or the one other friend from years ago.  Since she wasn't in this class that left Foster.

I guess my look of pure anxious fear fell off me in waves because Foster tried to rescue me in his own way.  I knew it was for his own gain to fame, but I so wanted to be rescued from this boy, the siphon.

“Man, you can’t just switch.  Coach won’t let you.”

Stupid jock. 

“Taken care of.  He already allowed it.”

He did?

Enter...coach.

“Coach.  This moron said you okayed the switch,” Foster waved his arms at all four of us.  The whole class just sat in wait no doubt enjoying the show.

“Yes.  Mr. Crawford expressed concern for the subject area and I allowed him a more adequate tutor for the subject matter.  Lark has the expertise to catch him up to speed.”

I gulped too loud.  Foster would fly off the handle just like he did at football practice and all of his games.  He was such a meathead.

His face flamed from embarrassment first, and then to save face he said loud for all to be sure and hear, “My bad.  Nerds-r-us not accounted for at this desk.”

I was hurt.  He knew it too.  He shot a look of apology for only me to see, but it was way too late for that.  Like three years too late.

Daniel made a terrific little territorial noise under his breath that ordinarily I’d have hushed, but today I let go.

Besides, what did I care?  I’d be the boss of Mr. Foster Kelly one day.  He’d be the mechanic’s helper if he didn't pick up the pace on a track in life.  I know for a fact he didn't have any intention of working in a hospital.

We set to work on whatever the assignment the whiteboard explained.  I was so out of it by the end, I did not even remember one iota of the hour with exception for the legs that bumped me once, the hands that touched me twice, or the eyes that watched me constantly. Smiled even.

I decided his smiles were worse than deadly and had an agenda I wasn’t sure was safe.  One day I might grow accustomed to the power they held and could muster enough defenses against them, but for now each new one was like stumbling through a dark cave and sudden bright lights were turning on to show me the way.  His way.   

I’d vote for his way.  Even knowing the evil he'd committed, it made me wonder if he chose it or possibly made to do it.

I counted next.  Two inches separated the space between our arms length from each other, and oh yes, I was checking him out.  Head to toe.  He was just that...distracting.  I also looked forward.  Seven inches between Foster and Sam.  I hated when my best friend was right.

And the smoke.  The smell that made my body ache.  It was like cedar lined walls were caving in on me.  I could taste the burning wood like it was on fire in my mouth.

“You’re doing it again,” he drawled with the accent.

“No I’m not.”  Crap.  I just messed up.  It was the way I siphoned, to taste their essence.  It was a natural feeling around him like I was supposed to do it. 

“I didn’t say what it was you were doing.”

Grr!

He was like a wolf and I was Little Red.  I was shaken in my size seven cherry red boots I’d worn today. 

Class ended with the bell and lunch was next. 

Here comes round two.

 

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