Splintered Energy (The Colors Book 1) (4 page)

Chapter Four

Glass of water in hand, Aaron stepped into his bedroom. Outside his window, the sun sank into the ocean in fiery layers of color. Inside the Spartan room, all trace of hues had been removed, except green, brown, and black. A whole day had passed without him alerting authorities, doing the right thing.

Covered with his leather jacket, the strange woman lay curled on his bed for hours in a fetal position. A computer search for clues to her origin had been futile, and if Aaron couldn’t rouse her, he’d finally make that phone call.

He splashed water on a green hand towel and sponged her forehead. Long eyelashes fluttered, and cognitive light blinked up at him.

“Shh. I’m not going to hurt you.” With his best “I’m not a deranged predator” smile, he slipped his hand beneath her head and tipped the glass forward. Her luminous eyes widened, she sipped, and then gulped. After she drained the glass, he released her and drew back.

The adjective “lovely” danced, shades of emerald in his head.

She sat up. With one glance around the room, she heaved a sigh of relief, and faced him. He’d kept the sunglasses on for her. A nervous smile curved her lips. “Dad?”

He laughed. “No, green lady, no. My name’s Aaron.”

“Aaron,” she whispered, sweet and musical.

David, with a pine-green candle, burst into the room.

She pointed with delight. “David.”

“Dad! She knows my name.”

Huge eyes turned. “Dad? Aaron?”

He smiled at the beauty staring at him. “No worries. We’ll help you understand.”

With a soft fluttering of her fingers, she gestured. “Names? Help?” She swung her feet to the floor, a rippling flow of grace.

David explained objects and grinned as she mimicked him. Strands of hair flowed past her waist, the ends curling in a seductive twist against her hips, as her baby steps took her exploring.

Her innocence seemed real, but the weapon in Aaron’s hip pocket reassured him. “She’s a computer-brained goddess,” he muttered to David. His attention locked on her, he took matches from his nightstand and lit the candle.

“Candle, pretty,” she whispered and patted the green wax. The flickering flame drew a frightened flinch, but she moved on without sobbing in chromophobic confusion. Her glide around the bedroom grew more confident, and she absorbed English as fast as they could talk.

* * *

I’m so damn scared
. Jaylynn felt like she walked on eggs guarded by a red dragon. Her unpredictable captor not only had inhuman strength, he possessed photographic memory. She’d answered his demands for names to everything in sight, and he’d managed ten minutes without looking like he’d break something—and that included her neck. Should she beg for compassion? She didn’t understand what he wanted, and she might not live long enough to find out.

“I want to go home.” She hated herself for the whine. “My arm hurts. I’m thirsty and frightened. Please let me go.”

“Teach arm hurts.” He tossed the last log on the fire.

“I don’t want to die. You broke my arm.”

He looked confused, and then he sighed. He rubbed his temple, tossed cracked sunglasses onto the couch, and raised his chin.

Oh. My. God. He’s not even a human lunatic
.

Her legs unfroze—his hand muffled her scream.

Drawn into the demonic rays that were his eyes, Jaylynn choked on the fear twisting in her throat as if she’d swallowed a python. What’s happening to me? She couldn’t move, breathe, or understand the current surging from his hand into her face.

In the midst of her panic, she began to comprehend the energy he radiated was soothing—in a caught-by-an-electric-demon sort of way. When her scream dissolved, he dropped his fingers from her mouth. His other hand held her back from him, kept her from collapsing.

He felt real. Solid, seductive flesh. No horns. No tail. Gates of hell didn’t open, and he appeared stricken. Blood tears welled in beautiful vermillion eyes.

Unable to look anymore, his grip unbreakable, she stepped into unreality, and buried her face into his chest.

He grunted at her whimper. Picked her up and carried her to the couch. She fell from his arms like an irritating, limp doll.

When the security blanket landed on her lap, she dared to open her eyes. Sunglasses back on, he fidgeted beside her. She drew a shuddering breath. “What…are you?”

His gentle caress dried her face while his rough voice growled, “Don’t know name. Don’t know broke arm. Want home. Jaylynn home, soon.” He drew back from her, and his hands balled into fists. “Jaylynn, no afraid. Teach thirsty.”

That radiant light couldn’t be real. It just couldn’t. She dared to close the space between them and took off the sunglasses.

He looked away, and then shifted glowing eyes back.

“Your eyes shouldn’t be red.” The mangled glasses fell from her hands, and he put them back on. “You’re a demon? Is hell for real then?”

“Don’t know hell. Don’t kill Jaylynn. Try don’t break Jaylynn.”

He sprang up, strode to the end table, raised it over his head, and smashed it on the floor. He flung the splintered wood into the fireplace as she found her feet. “Jaylynn no afraid. Hurts…Demon’s head. Teach thirsty.”

She inched for the doorway and managed to croak, “Thirsty is a need for water. There’s a sink in the other room.”

Red eyes burned into her back.

An isolated dwelling in the woods, no telephone in sight, a demon waiting—could she get more doomed? Past twilight, the kitchen’s dark shadows enhanced the eerie silence. She found a glass on the counter and filled it. She set the glass down.

The back door opened without a creak.

“Don’t know what Demon is,” his harsh voice called out. “Demon hears.” She choked back her sob. His voice grew angrier. “No home. Teach. Demon try not break arm—again.”

She left the door open, gulped the water, and whispered, “Screw you. Mean, cruel, demonic delusion.” She refilled the glass. Maybe the monster was thirsty too. Maybe water would melt him back to hell. Maybe…was that him growling out there?
Ohgodohgodohgod
.

He turned from the fire and sighed at her hesitant approach. She handed him the glass and cringed back. As his fingers closed around it, thin cracks radiated out. “Teach,” he barked as his nostrils flared.

She pretended to drink.

Brow furrowed, he brought the drink to his lips. Delight splashed across his face, and he drained every drop. One step brought him close. He thrust the glass at her. “Demon like water.” A soft smile curved his lips, and her breath froze.

He’d never had a glass of water before? She stepped back, cradling her arm.

His shoulders drooped, and he pivoted to stomp across the room. He yanked the door out of its broken frame, threw it down, and faced her with his hidden eyes. “Teach. Mean Cruel Demon…screw you?”

Her heart pounded so hard it hurt.

He snorted. He stepped aside and snapped his fingers. “Go. Home.”

The glass shattered on the floor. She ran from the flickering fireplace into the dark. Less than ten steps later, she didn’t see or hear, but felt that electricity encircle her arm.

“You said I could go home.” She bit down so hard inside her lip she tasted blood.

“Demon teach.” He guided her away from the cabin toward the woods. She had no choice but to trip alongside, until he stopped and dropped his hands. He looked up and grinned. The cool night air and starless sky seemed exhilarating to him.

He turned to her, mercurial smile gone. No time to draw a last gulp of boring air before his sweet breath hit her face. His hand covered her mouth and then released. His threat not to scream was clear.

“Demon won’t hurt Jaylynn. Home.” He swept her into his arms, cradled her like a child, and ran without a barefoot stumble. He didn’t say a word for the mile or so. Her car waited in the ditch, both doors still open. He set her down by the driver door.

“Thank you,” she mumbled. Unbelievably, her purse lay on the seat. “What are you going to do now?”

No reply. Her demon had disappeared into thin air. She looked at the broken steering column, and whimpered as she reached for her cell. “Police? Ghost busters? Loony bin?”

* * *

What was Jaylynn’s problem? She couldn’t make the vehicle move? Demon broke it? Or maybe he broke her, damaged more than her arm, and she was lost and confused—like him. If only he knew where he belonged, he could bring her with him. Keep her safe.

He watched from the trees. Would she shake with irrational fear if he approached to ask her? He slumped. Unfair, but she most likely would.

When the death strap hidden under her upper-covering had become visible, he hadn’t harmed her. He’d controlled the desire to make her remove it. He didn’t have the words. To his disbelief, the white still didn’t take him, and she hid it under the black cover again. He could ignore it, like he did the death circling her eyes—focusing on the beautiful centers. He didn’t look at awful teeth but at her perfect dark hair.

Jaylynn’s eyes kept losing water. Was she so afraid that she dissolved? She could wear death and survive, yet was so fragile she leaked because of him. She’d given him words, fire, water. Beautiful things of immense value.

Anger twisted through him. But then why did she fear him? She couldn’t control her dislike of his outer-casing she called skin, his optical units she called eyes, even his voice tones.
Mean and cruel? Screw you?
Jaylynn wouldn’t teach him the words, but he’d understood she wanted her home, to be unafraid, without him. He wanted to smash her leaking eyes, yelling mouth, her need to flee him, but he missed the soft curvy teacher.

Finally, he heard and then saw the metal unit arrive. A creature opened the door for her without breaking it, and a strange feeling, sadness, gripped him as she readied to leave. At least the red lights on top of the vehicle were beautiful, despite the annoyance of the flash. He could go with her in such a pretty vehicle.

But she doesn’t want me
.

She was gone.

He could leave as well, but he didn’t know where to go. He leaned against the tree, absorbed with the beauty of the night sky—what was appearing? Pinpoints of yellow-light. Whenever this world showed beauty, something got ugly.

He scowled and hopped to his feet. How was he to blend in such a strange environment? Would he always have to hide his eyes?

He wished he wasn’t a mean-cruel-demon.

He didn’t like this world.

Where was Demon’s home?

* * *

Malcolm James didn’t sit in the correct home. Time, a serious enemy, clicked by. The Rock and Roll Hall of Fame website, where the homeowner had gone, had its hours posted. Digital numbers on the lower right of the screen encouraged him to risk four minutes longer.

His skills—Malcolm James’s skills—now surpassed anyone that spent, say, a lifetime in front of a screen. Knowledge, culture, social skills were loaded and filed in his memory.

He’d exceeded the standard, human-limited, activation of selected brain sections. Over forty percent of his mental mass powered to the max—simultaneous firing in targeted areas. And he suspected the manipulation of this organ would increase with learned precision control. What exactly fueled Malcolm James’s neurons, he didn’t know. It wasn’t a priority, until basic survival odds were raised.

Yet, a few stressed brain cells could be derailed to contemplate acceptance of this unknown—
him
, who now powered the intellect. Loss of freedom, trapped in a body, and the fact that not James, but—
he
—needed to accept his essence as Malcolm James seemed irrefutable.

Existentialism led to the next conclusion and out of third person.

I—self—me—individual
.

In this body, I now exist. Without rules, regulations, not even a simple guideline. Thrown into actuality to go with the flow—it felt more like a violent riptide, leaving him not only clueless but bereaved.

Oh my. No time for this. I must get on with the basic survival
.

With a solid foundation of the language, he assumed he could communicate. He now understood bank records, credit cards, and exactly how much the dead Malcolm had left him. But he didn’t have a handle on safety.

He needed the sanctuary of Malcolm’s—
my home
—before the man that lived here returned. He pulled up a map of Cleveland and memorized the path.

It took two minutes to erase any trace, and two additional minutes to second-guess and recheck. Yes, he’d left the computer as he’d found it.

The pretty flowers on the table tore a groan from him. He snapped an inch off the base of each stem, opening a fresh path to draw fluid. He added water and put the vase back where it had been.

Along with vandalism, breaking and entering, it didn’t feel right to take without permission, but he needed the illusion of security. The black, chenille blanket was now
his
. One loose knot under his chin fastened it around his shoulders, and he closed the door behind him. The daylight had faded into a blue-black sky, quite beautiful, despite the glittering pockets of stars.