Half Blind (The Technicians #13)

Chapter 5- Allure

T he evening, in Helen’s opinion, only became weirder as the night progressed. From the outside looking in, the evening would appear as a family having the friends of their teen daughters over for dinner. Helen, having located a nearby butcher, found the neck bones, along with thick sliced bacon, turkey tails, and a few good-looking lamb chops she purchased. Luckily, next door was a small market where she scored the greens, cornmeal, and a quart of buttermilk. Ruth Neary’s recipe for the cornbread called for the buttermilk, and to play it safe, Helen grabbed a bag of frozen corn to go inside to make the baked bread extra corny. When she returned from the store, she found Jared standing close by the barn.

“Hey, everything okay?” Helen asked.

“Yeah, he wanted to see her lab. The girl wanted to peek in too.”

“You standing guard in case she needs help?”

“Hm, something is off with that kid,” Jared said. “Did you see him drop that South American accent and ease right into, what was that, Texas, maybe Houston, accent? It feels weird. Really weird.”

“He’s on the spectrum,” Helen said.

“What?”

“He is on the autism spectrum,” she repeated. “Someone has taught him how to mask it and to blend in. He shifted, based on the girls coming in, so it wouldn’t be weird for everyone.”

“Weirder than him showing up with the venom of four highly deadly snakes? How the hell did he get it into the country?”

Helen observed Jared’s protectiveness towards the girls. He was an interesting man who seemed rather interested in Lemon, as well as the young man who had paid them all a visit. “Maybe over dinner, if you allow the air to settle for everyone, he or they will share,” she told him.

“That dude does not look like the sharing type,” Jared mumbled.

“Says the pot looking at the kettle and questioning its validity to sit on the stove,” she mumbled back.

“I heard that.”

“Didn’t whisper it, Sir,” she said, almost chuckling, before going to start dinner.

Jared didn’t like it. A Delgado shows up to a farm in the middle of Ohio to deliver supplies to a researcher because of an error on his part but also because of a suggestion on his part. The hackles on the back of his neck were up. A Delgado arriving in person to examine the usage of the material could be a step into indentured servitude for the lady, and it would also be his fault. He moved closer to the barn to see the lab and hear what was being said as well.

Alita looked up as he entered. He noticed she always kept a healthy distance between the young man and anyone else. The questions in his mind only grew by the moment. Bodyguard? A female bodyguard? A female bodyguard to make them look like regular teenagers?

Lemon showed the young man the lab, a very basic setup in the room where she played with deadly toxins. The cabinets were from a big box store, closely resembling the ones in the kitchen in the primary home, but these had locks. A workbench sat in the middle of the floor and had Bunsen burners, tubes, vials, and a centrifuge. Other items were on display that he didn’t recognize, but the kid did.

“I know this must be very rudimentary to your eyes,” Lemon said to Micah.

“Not at all,” he replied in his normal voice. “We still extract the coca from the leaves using gasoline in barns. My personal lab is larger, but pretty much has the same equipment.”

“Your lab?”

“ Si , I am the amateur chemist,” he said. “I am to start the interviews for colleges soon and am not certain if I want the larger university or the smaller college with more of the, how do you say, the hands on .”

Lemon nodded and told him, “Larger schools have more resources and funding. Of course, in the smaller schools, you will get more personalized guidance, but it is a fight over equipment and lab hours. May I ask, what is your specialization?”

“I recently secured the patent for a synthetic anti-venom,” he said. “We have lost many workers on milking days. We keep a certain amount on hand for such emergencies, but the smell, the slithering, it makes the skin feel, what is the word, ah si , the crawly .”

“You milk the snakes on your...land?”

“Farm,” he said. “We are farmers.”

“And you farm venom?”

“No, we create a large repository of venoms we sell to your CDC, as well as local centers, villages, and hospitals. My country is full of venomous creatures. However, among other things, we grow coffee, soybeans, corn, and rice,” he said, turning to look at Jared. “I would like the cake.”

“Excuse me?” Lemon asked.

“My stomach is empty. Dinner shall be awhile, and I would like the cake please,” he said, sounding very much like a kid.

“Of course,” Lemon replied, looking at Alita. “Dear, would you like a bite to eat before dinner as well?”

“Yes, please, if it is no trouble,” Alita said.

“I want to ask many questions, but not sure if I should,” Lemon said, noticing the tight bond between the two teens.

“She is my assistant,” Micah said, staring Lemon in the eyes. “My brother, his assistant is a large Norwegian with a patch of blonde hair in the middle of his frontal lobe, and he is roughly the size of a tank. She is deadly, but less conspicuous.”

“Good to know; let’s get you some cake,” Lemon said, smiling at them both. There were more questions, but she held her tongue. She also held her tongue with Jared being a silent sentry and nodded her head in acknowledgement of his soundless support.

Inside the home, the smell of cornbread baking, greens cooking in the Instapot, and neck bones simmering on the stove with potatoes took her back to a childhood and the first of the month. She and her mother always ate well at the first of the month. It was the last two weeks which were a struggle.

Micah and Alita sat in the living room with Ayanna and Bria, chatting about college, dreams, and where they would like to attend university once they graduated high school. They asked questions about where he was from, and he answered honestly about the school systems in South America.

“Are you rich?” Bria asked.

Micah held up his palms to show off the callouses he’d earned living on a working farm. “Rich men’s hands don’t look like mine.”

Ayanna asked, “Is she your girlfriend. I see how she’s always sitting between us and you.”

“She is my friend,” he answered.

“Does she know that?” Ayanna replied. Helen, hearing the conversation, was pleased to announce dinner was ready. Micah rose first, allowing the ladies to enter the dining area ahead of him. He intentionally placed himself between Alita and Lemon at the dinner table, his eyes directly on Jared.

It was Helen who began to notice the twitching movements of the young man. Each time he moved, the subtle shifts soon became not so subtle as his face showed discomfort. She arched an eyebrow, which he acknowledged.

“Nighttime is the worst,” he said in the Texas accent. “I have, the itchy .”

“Are you allergic to something I cooked? I’m so sorry I didn’t ask since you requested the meal,” she told him.

“No, not the food,” Micah said. “My tattoo is fresh. The pigments in the dyes are intense. The color is deep in the dermis of the skin to ensure the saturation is lifelong. It is the itchy .”

Helen asked, “Do you have something to put on it?”

“I do, si ,” he said, losing the Texas accent in the bout of his discomfort. “It is, the stinky . I do not wish to use it, to smell up the house.”

Lemon replied, “I may have something to help if you want it.”

“ Por favor , this is the misery ,” he said, looking at her with the eyes of a child wanting help.

Ayanna, who seemed totally enamored of all things Micah Delgado, asked, “Can I see your tattoo?”

“It would be inappropriate,” he said. “I would have to partially disrobe.”

Ayanna wasn’t ready to let go, “You have to disrobe anyway to put on the cream she’s going to give you. Are you putting it on yourself?”

“Alita will apply the cream,” he said, closing his eyes as he moved his shoulders.

Bria spoke up, “I want to see it too. Can you show us, please?”

Lemon returned with a large jar of a mixture she’d made herself in the lab for eczema. She passed it to Micah, who looked at Jared, who held out his hands as if he were saying, why the hell not. Quickly, Micah yanked the shirt out of the neatly buckled pants, passing to cream to Alita. He unbuttoned his shirt in haste, exposing the brown skin as the head of the serpent began to appear. The more the snake appeared with the removal of clothing, the larger Jared’s eyes became.

“Is that a Fer de Lance?” Jared asked, drawing back in shock.

“No, it is the Colombian Bushmaster,” Micah replied, maintaining eye contact as he said the next words. “The Fer de Lance is my father.”

The cup Jared was holding eased its way onto the table. Jared’s eyes went to Lemon, who sat almost in shock at the revelation of who was in her home eating dinner with her wards and talking about colleges. Helen did not know who or what had entered Lemon’s home, but based on the tattoo, he was dangerous. She looked up as Ayanna’s fingers were reaching to touch Micah’s skin. Helen grabbed her hand.

“Baby, they look like regular teens, but that tattoo says otherwise. If you touch him, his friend will more than likely cut off your fingers,” Helen said.

Alita, who carefully measured her words thus far spoke softly, “I would not hurt her; however, I would not allow her to physically make contact with his person.”

“So, you’re what, like his bodyguard or something?” Ayanna asked, adding attitude and sounding like a smartass.

Alita, with a spark in her eyes, replied in her normal voice, dropping the Texas accent, “No, I am his personal assassin. You touch; I kill. He no like you, I kill. If dinner makes him ill... you get the picture.”

“Hey, you have an accent!” Bria said noticing the change in Alita’s speech, but making no comment on Micah’s loss of the Texas twang.

Jared didn’t like the girl’s sense of humor. “Not funny Alita, but are we safe with you being here?”

Micah, in a bit of nirvana with the cream being lathered on his body, sighed. “No, for this cream, I shall be forever in the lady’s debt. She has made a friend in me.”

The uneasiness Jared felt with the young man didn’t leave him. He had sisters. A potentially deadly creature had entered the house creating a potential situation which would be costly. “That’s not what I meant. Are the girls...I hate to ask, but I must.”

Micah looked up and made eye contact with him. “I have no interest in children and do not desire one in my bed; to me, they are children.”

“You’re about the same age,” Ayanna said defensively.

“In years, dear Ayanna,” Micah replied, “in life experiences, not so much.”

“I think I’m offended,” Ayanna said.

“Do not be,” he told her. “My way of life is very different. We do not, you know, just on the random chance since it will catch me with my pants down so to speak. My brothers, have stepped outside of the boundaries of this rule, but I am not allowed. The potential to make children out of wedlock is a punishable offense with my father. It is not our way, but please, do not be offended, as if I have a lack of interest. My focus is not on dalliances. Besides, I would rather have your friendship.”

“Fine, if that’s all I can get,” Ayanna said as Jared looked at her with a frown. “What? He is finer than a baby mink, and either the Texas or that South American accent can get him some time.”

Jared pointed a finger at her, and Bria giggled. “He is fine though, Mr. Jared! Those accents just make a girl want to sit and listen to him all night. I might even be willing to fight that guard of his to steal a kiss or two.”

Micah did not respond to their words but put his shirt on and sat happily in new comfort. He waved his hand at Alita, who again went in her pocket to remove large amounts of cash to hand to Lemon, who refused.

“I’ll take it,” Ayanna said, “you know, to soothe my bruised feelings.”

Micah chuckled a bit. “If you truly need this for educational purposes, it shall be yours. However, I will not provide you with hard-earned money to go the shopping . Is that why you want the funds?”

“Ah...maybe,” she said, smiling at him.

He nodded to Alita who provided both girls a $100 dollar bill. A yawn came from his mouth as thunder cracked overhead, and the heavens opened with a torrential downpour. “Rain, it sounds good. Do you require assistance with the clearing of the table? No ? Then, I shall retire for the evening. It has been a long day,” Micah said. “May I be shown to our quarters?”

Lemon said, “I have two rooms upstairs. One with a queen bed, the other with two singles.”

“The two singles,” he said, fighting off the yawn while looking at Jared. “Tomorrow, before I leave, if you require help to patch the roof, I shall lend a hand.”

“Appreciate it,” Jared said, not knowing what to make of it. “Rest well.”

Micah nodded and he and the girl climbed the stairs with a small suitcase he hadn’t noticed before. Jared helped clear the table before heading to the barn. The uneasiness wouldn’t leave him, and he reluctantly made a phone call. It was answered on the fourth ring.

“State your need,” the voice said.

“Clarification is required.”

“What might I clarify for you?” the voice asked.

“Why the son of the Fer de Lance finished dinner in Lemon’s farmhouse and has climbed the stairs for the night with his bodyguard assassin?” Jared said.

“The Bocaracá is there at Lemon’s farm?”

“I don’t know what that is, but this kid has half a tattoo of a Colombian Bushmaster etched in his skin that he called the itchy and his little assassin bodyguard lathered him up with a jar of something lemon smelling the Doc gave him to ease the discomfort after dinner while the two teens who live with Lemon sat drooling over the teen South American assassin heartthrob,” Jared said in a whoosh of air. “What in the hell is happening here?”

“The better question is why is he there, Mr. Bane?”

Jared held the device close to his mouth. He wanted to curse the man out, but he had a point. The creepy tat covered teen was here because of him.

“He makes me nervous,” he said. “What if, in coming here, he sees a way to worm their family into Lemon’s life?”

“Perhaps you being there is a deterrent for them not,” the voice said. “Has he presented any mal-intent? Why is he staying the night?”

“Storm coming through, plus he asked Cranberry to make him, I am not joking, neck bones with collard greens and the corny bread ,” Jared said. “He also sat with the girls talking about colleges with a Texas accent. I’ve never seen anyone eat neckbones with the grace of royalty using a knife and fork and not missing any of the meat. He walked in the door slicker than snot, his back rigid, ready to kick ass and kill anyone in his path. When the girls arrived, he mussed his hair, removed the jacket and slumped his body into a teen that didn’t give a shit about anything adults had to say. He did it right before our eyes. He went from this bad ass ruthless South American Czar incarnate to a teen Goth who possibly listens to Billy Eilish on repeat. I’m confused. What is happening here?”

The voice on the line was quiet. He waited a beat, thinking very hard about the next response. The words came out softly. “We all get tired of being who we are sometimes, Mr. Bane. If, for one night, he could simply be a teenager and hang out with other teens that didn’t know who he was or his destiny, he took the opportunity. At times, isn’t that what we all desire, a day off from being what others expect of us, and being who we’ve grown into?”

“I don’t think I like you,” Jared said.

“Stay in touch,” the voice said and ended the call.