Chapter 39 - Chasing Monsters #2
“That must be wrong,” Mack complains, with a powerful voice I didn’t think he had in him. “We blamed it all on the Herionos. Fuck—we sent squads after them. Merya tortured them!” A moment of silence. Of cruel realisation. His eyes widen with horror.
“I’m sorry, Mack, but we know how expert Roden is at turning bullshit into a credible, alternative truth. Especially if that plays to his favour.” Galen pinches his chin, pacing back and forth almost on the spot.
“Brenath is the latest province that has agreed to join our cause,” Merya mumbles.
Galen nods, pensively. “Roden is trying to turn them against us before it’s too late, while their minds are still processing the reality of the danger. Our side-battles with the Herionos were the perfect alibi at the right moment. When was the last time you had contact with Brenath’s Mayor?”
“The day that man’s body burst into a corrosive killing machine and liquefied some of the citizens in the Town Hall. The Mayor asked us for some days to mourn their loved ones,” Mack replies.
“Thanks for the delightful, vivid reminder,” Merya replies in a low voice, bracing her elbows on the table and massaging her temples.
I’ve been listening to them talking, understanding only half of their conversation. I move closer to the table, addressing everyone. “That would have given Roden time to send messages to the Mayor and convince him that the blood of his people is on Tabitha’s hands.”
I shift and turn to speak directly to Galen, “Please tell me something, now that we’re all so ready to speak the truth.
The man in Lucretia’s video wasn’t Kris.
And it wasn’t the Herionos torturing him.
That was Roden creating a Red. That’s why some Chapter members were so on edge the night he kindly summoned me.
A few knew about it and thought their position was at risk… ”
Galen’s face pales with my every heated accusation. “Roden couldn’t do everything on his own. The Deleteri are very good at that, as are the Writers,” I add, playing with the key at my neck.
“Oh, nice to see you’re wearing that,” Mack comments unexpectedly. “Galen, where’s yours? I thought—”
Distractedly, my eyes fall on his neck, but his voice calls me back to attention.
“If you’re accusing me or my Deleteri, you’re very wrong,” Galen snaps, shutting down Mack, whose cheeks flash red before he hides it by lowering his head.
“I wasn’t, but you trained them, and you clearly know that something horrible like hybrid souls is doable, so…” I shrug.
“Not fair,” Mack mumbles, still affected by Galen’s abrupt reaction.
“Please don’t blame it all on him. We’ve all been investing our lives to find a way to stop Roden, and Galen is the one who risked more than everyone else.
But war is never a clean business. It’s a nasty rat that nibbles at your bones and infects you even if it wasn’t you starting it. ”
I opened my mouth, unsure whether to reprimand Galen or praise Mack’s undeniable loyalty, but a familiar voice interrupts me.
“I hope this Lucretia is worth our attention because she only sounds like a troublemaker so far.”
With the sun at its peak, turning the shiny surfaces of the kitchen bright white and silver, Kris silhouette strikes me like a portrait I’ve seen somewhere before—an image that I tucked in the back of my mind.
His features are in the shade, but the way his hair touches his shoulders, waving at the ends and framing his face with light tones of brown, captures my attention completely.
I blink and push the thought back when Galen steps between us.
Foxily, Merya stretches her arms and upper body across the table, resting her right cheek in her hand, as if preparing for a good show.
“Please, don’t mind me.” Clearing his voice, Kris walks inside the kitchen and leans against the wall behind Merya, crossing his arms and patiently waiting, like her, for his brother to speak.
I try not to follow his every move, but all my cells, nerves, and thoughts pull towards him. And for a split second, I swear I can feel his gaze on me.
Galen’s nostrils flare slightly as he takes a deep breath, mirroring his brother’s posture.
“What killed those people…it’s not acid,” he starts.
“It’s blood,” Kris confirms.
“Fascinating, but—we already know that,” Mack mumbles.
Merya and I cast him a questioning look, but Mack’s too busy taking notes on a scrap of baking paper.
“Despicable,” Galen reclaims everyone’s focus. “But I can see why you find it interesting. If used well, it could be an almost undetectable weapon.”
“How did Roden manage to create such a thing?” I sound on the verge of breaking, but that’s what anger does to me.
Galen closes his eyes, massaging his forehead as if recalling what he knows.
“He didn’t. It happened years ago. By accident.”
Nobody comments or moves. Even Mack is lost for words as he grabs a chair and sits down, gnawing at the flat end of a pencil.
Galen nods as if to allow himself to tell the story.
“Eve and I were sent to harvest and erase a soul from Cleryce. Roden told us he’d detected weird notes vibrating through this specific vessel, as if memories of its past life had, somehow, managed to reemerge.
The subject was acting erratically and had already scared a few random people met on the streets, asking them to dig a hole in his skull to extract the voices in his head. ”
I can’t help but gasp, but I’m not the only one finding it hard to hide their emotions.
Kris shifts against the wall, then pushes away and walks towards the table. Our eyes meet, and he doesn’t drop his stare until he sits next to Mack. When he does, I start breathing again.
“Shit,” Merya swears under her breath, raking her fingers through her hair and messing her already loose braid. “We heard of rebirths gone wrong, of Horigeans waking up with flashes of their past lives but quickly discarding them as nightmares—”
“Yes, but those episodes usually last a few days—weeks maximum. Until the soul adjusts inside the new vessel. What does the Chapter like to call them?” Mack claps and waves a hand towards Galen, asking for help remembering what he can’t.
“Regressions—” Galen mumbles, following Merya as she stands, stretches her neck and approaches her brother.
“How original! I call it we-fucked-up-but-we’re-proud-pieces-of-shit.” Mack tilts his head at every word, making a note of the name on his piece of baking paper. Shorter locks of hair dance across his eyes.
“Here, use this.” Merya pulls out a small notepad from a side pocket of her wide maroon trousers.
“That piece of paper is oily; your scribbles will disappear in minutes, and I don’t want to hear your tantrums later on,” she grunts, snatching the scrap of paper away and pressing the notepad in her brother’s hands.
But she ruffles his hair in such a motherly way that I feel jealous of a family I never had.
“You need to find a better insult if you want to use it next time we meet the big bad Chapter,” Kris playfully elbows Mack in the ribs.
“Big C…as in big Cu—Ouch!” There is no trace of playfulness in Merya’s hand smacking his head.
Kris and I scoff simultaneously, and his light green eyes find mine again. They’re so vivid, unlike those I’ve met in my dreams. When he looks away, I linger a little longer on him, trying to recall more details that could help me remember.
Until Galen clears his throat.
He’s pacing the room again, the sound of his steps a steady, almost hypnotic rhythm.
“Regressions, or whatever you want to call them. The soul from Cleryce was experiencing something completely different. Those weren’t just voices from his past life. They never belonged to him to start with.”
“The poisonous blood. Acid. Whatever that is. Was that the natural reaction of his body trying to cleanse him from unfamiliar souls?” Kris’ voice carries sad notes that pinch something inside me. When I look over, his eyes are fixed on the table as if hiding his true emotions.
“And everyone let this event be swept under the carpet without raising questions—why?” I ask, attracting all the eyes on me.
“Unfortunately, that’s a collateral effect we’ve only witnessed once—until now.
We thought Cleryce was done and dusted and a once-in-a-million-years event.
” Tabitha materialises by the kitchen’s main door, silent like a cat.
Her voice follows the trail of my question, capturing - with my immense relief - everyone’s attention.
“But we were wrong.”