Failing Upward Ch. 08

Mosquito Bites

The mosquito bit my hand.

Sid lay next to me, gently snoring. I lay on my side, cheek resting on the stiff white pillow case. I considered the mosquito for some time, left hand resting on the pillow next to my face. It took its time. Finally, swollen and gorged with my blood, it drunkenly buzzed away, leaving that familiar itch behind.

I sighed. All that little mosquito wanted was a meal. Only a little of me. Silly really to think that a few days ago I would have swatted it dead with out a second thought. This morning I scratched the bite with my stubby nails and watched him fly to the window and bang his bloated body into the glass, thinking maybe I should let it out.

I rolled over and pulled the sheet over my head and Sid's both. I was being ridiculous.

Sid's arm folded around me, and he kissed my ear.

"Didn't sleep well, did you?" he yawned.

"No, not at all," I mumbled.

How much should I tell him? With every word I uttered, he plummeted deeper and deeper into this abyss with me. Should I tell him about what I overheard on my trip downstairs to the bathroom last night? Or about the discussion I had with my aunt and uncle afterward? I'd been thinking since waking-- it came down to doing what Glenda and Daniel thought was best, or what my heart thought was best.

Would Sid be my partner or not?

I wanted to protect him and love him. I never dreamed those two desires might diverge.

As his hand slipped lower, I remembered his doubts. That I'd change my mind-- I knew I'd never change my mind-- I'd always love and want him. But I also wanted him alive. He didn't deserve a death sentence.

But this wasn't my choice to make.

So many choices were made for me. As much as I wanted to keep Sid safe, I didn't have the right to make choices for him. In the end if it came to me leaving with Shackleton, that's the way it would have to be. That was my choice to make.

I had to start some where. I rolled over and faced Sid.

"We have to talk," I said.

I told him about the argument between Les, Glenda and Daniel last night. I told him how both my aunt and uncle waited patiently for me, and how we talked. I wasn't as bitter as Les. Maybe if I knew more, I would have been as bitter as him.

"For the first time, they brought up our older brother, Alex. He was given a choice. My birth parents told him they were immortal and gave him a choice although they counseled him against becoming like them. He became estranged from the family because of his choice. He isn't like us and never will be. His choice. My uncle said he made that clear to Les years ago."

"He's the manager Les spoke about-- "

"Yeah," I said, curling up closer to Sid. "There's something else you need to know-- it's about my aunt being married. Remember all that research on Emma Lancaster you dug up? Well, we know her husband; you know him really well... Dr. Deal."

"Peter? No way. I don't believe it."

"Who suggested I get hypnotized? You or Dr. Deal?" I asked. Sid frowned and started to speak, but bit off his words. I got my answer. "I thought so. We've been manipulated all along."

"He's one of them. I don't believe this," he said half to himself. "I've known him most of my life; he's like family. He comes over for dinner-- Thanksgiving, Christmas. He's gone on vacations with us-- Madrid and..."

Sid was upset. I didn't blame him-- this betrayal was of the worst kind. A close family friend who probably never was a friend at all. Hopefully, I was wrong. Maybe Deal's friendship was real. I knew that his parents loved him. Peter this, Peter that. Gawd, sometimes I wondered about the three of them--

"Peter and Glenda... they aren't still married are they?" he asked.

"They haven't been together for a long time. Glenda said they'd never divorced. He's a made; Glenda helped him-- "

I didn't know where to begin with the whole forbidden love crapola.

"What happened between them? Why aren't they together?"

"I don't know. She wouldn't say exactly-- But I got the idea from what she said that she helped him become immortal so they could be together. Maybe he tricked her."

Sid knew what I was leading up to with out me saying-- that two people, one mortal and one immortal, could never last. His face darkened, and he was stiff and still.

"Like I told you before-- immortals have some kind of code that forbids close relationships with mortals. I think it has more to do with keeping themselves secret."

"I'll grow old, and you won't. That I'll regret loving you; you'll regret loving me-- is that it?"

I held my breath and found his hands, grasping them both tightly in mine.

"Believe me-- I'll love you no matter what time does to either of us. I love you. That's not what worries me. I'm terrified about the now. What's going to happen to us-- to you. They see you as a threat. I'm more concerned about keeping you alive today than what the Hell might happen ten or twenty years from now."

"You're thinking of Shackleton and his damn test."

"Yes," I admitted. "But for now we don't have to worry about him. He's gone-- but he'll be back."

"He's gone?" Sid said hopefully.

"Trent lost him last night," I explained. "One moment he was chasing Shackleton; next Shackleton was gone. Vanished like Houdini or something. Abandoned his car. His apartment. Lancaster said members of the Community tracked him to Detroit Metro. Shackleton boarded a flight to Chicago along with a couple of other men."

We still weren't safe. I knew it; Sid knew it. I didn't know what called Shackleton away, but I was sure it would lead to misery for us both. We didn't have much time left. After last night, I was weighing the option of seeking the Community's help. But Sid was a mosquito to them; I wasn't much above that. Lab rat maybe. I didn't trust them with either of our lives. I was beginning to wonder if there was anything to do other than run or fight them ourselves.

"Sid, I have to go back down into the garden. I know you don't like it-- but I have to do it. I have to be able to save you because sooner or later, Shackleton or someone else is going to try to kill you. I can't let it happen. I can't lose you."

"Shit," he said. "How will you know when it's enough? How many times will it take?"

"I don't know-- I only know that I'm not ready yet."

Sid's arm pulled me closer. His chest was damp against mine. I kissed the corner of his mouth.

"Wes, I don't want to die. I'd be a fool not to be afraid. But God, I'm more afraid for you. If you save me, what they'd do to you-- it'd be worse than death."

I knew he was right. I didn't want to think about Shackleton. I'd rather be dead than have him touch me.

"Maybe it would be better if you can't save me--" said Sid. "He'd leave you alone."

"How can you say that if you died it'd be better for me? You are the only truth in my life."

Now I was spouting off like young hunk in some cheap romance novel.

"But if they get you-- "

Might as well go all the way with the Harlequin romance--

"They can't keep me forever. I'll come back to you... and I've got to believe there is something more we don't know about. They're worried. There's something important being kept from us."

"I'm going to the garden with you," he said determinedly. "I'm not leaving you alone out there."

The garden.

With Sid.

God, the images of him that we going through my brain. Sweaty. Chest heaving. Hand grasping my cock.

A timid knock came from the door. Then again.

"I bring coffee... " came Les' voice quietly, "...and bagels."

Sid smirked. "Guess, we'd better get dressed," he said.

"Just a minute," I answered, throwing our sheets aside.

-----------------------------------------

When I opened the door and looked into his green eyes, I saw concern in Les' face. Thoughtful of him to bring breakfast. We all sat down-- Sid and I on the bow-window seat and Les on the over stuffed chair by the maple dresser. We silently drank our coffee, assessing each other. I was impressed he remembered-- just enough cream and plenty of sugar for me, and Sid's was black. Les bit his lip then set his jaw. He reminded me of Lynn just before she was ready to give up one of her sisterly secrets-- you know, the ones only women tell each other, like 'Susan's right breast is larger than her left.'

Guys don't do that. I didn't expect that kind of info from Les or Sid. Or the kind of validation which comes after spilling their guts. Like Lynn-- giving away the secret then saying she only told me because I was safe and cuddly and-- friggin' gay.

That used to upset me.

Clink, clink, clink. Les' spoon battled with the inside of his coffee mug. His finger tapped the handle-- maybe he was waging a battle within himself and not sure how much to say, or what. I was surprised my aunt and uncle let him come up here to talk to us. Maybe they couldn't stop him-- or maybe they didn't think he knew enough to cause harm.

Didn't matter to me. He knew a heck of a lot more than either Sid or I did. And to be cliché-- knowledge is power.

Sid knew about Les' parent's death before I did. I was still a little upset with Sid he didn't share that information with me from the beginning. Neither of us were going to make that mistake again. From now on two heads together. And from the look on Les' face, maybe we'd have a third head, too.

"Where to start..." Les said.

"How 'bout with Shackleton?" Sid suggested.

"Best to understand your enemies," he acknowledged, taking a big bite of blueberry bagel and chewing. "Shackleton's a psychopath. He is seriously deranged. You know his history with Uncle Dan. He has this obsession with immortals-- our family in particular. When he first trashed your house, Wes, we searched Shackleton's apartment and nosed around. We out found Shackleton has a hobby-- cameras, video-cameras. He's taken plenty of snapshots you and the band: eating, shopping, working and hanging at home. Some video, too. No nice way to say this-- he's got some compromising ones of you and Sid."

"Fuck! Video or pictures?!" Sid asked.

"Both."

Disturbing-- but I wasn't surprised. Probably beat off watching them. Not much different from his obsession with my uncle years ago and stalking me now. Then he sent notes and dead sparrows. Now he wrapped on windows and took lewd pictures.

"Sorry we kept that from you. Evidently, he's watched you for a long time. I'm certain he burned your house and broke into Sid's. We found album after album of pictures. Some of me. Hell Wes, he had pictures of the inside your parents' house. He had pictures..." Les stopped; his jaw tightened. My hands began to shake. "...of me inside our parents' house. What bothered me most was Uncle Dan wasn't surprised. He knew all along. I'm sure Shackleton murdered our parents. He had pay stubs in the apartment from the business that fucked up the gas line and killed my parents. He left the stubs out from Rex's Heating and Cooling on the coffee table-- Shackleton wanted me to find them-- he wanted me to know."

Les wasn't chewing on the bagel any more. He set his coffee aside, too.

"Dear uncle knows exactly what's going on and why," Les said. "He knows the connections. And he won't share. What upsets me most is I believe he and Aunt Glenda could have prevented our families' deaths-- they let them happen. This isn't about dirty little secrets or because they're afraid of the Community. It's some grandiose design or some such high-minded garbage-- I just don't know what could be so important that they'd let people they love die."

I sat with the cinnamon bagel in my lap-- half eaten. I picked at the cream cheese. My head ached. I needed fresh air. I heard the mosquito buzzing near my ear. I glanced at him-- trapped between the curtain and the window. I moved my hand to brush the curtain aside. It swayed before my finger touched it. Old windows. Wind blows right through them.

"Shackleton is dangerous. He's evil. The Community has an agenda-- making them dangerous also. But the one's who are the most dangerous are people like us-- the old ones."

"Old ones," I repeated. "This feels so familiar. Like an old sci-fi thriller or maybe a Peter Cushing movie."

Machinations from a third party. Great-- Old, powerful beings.

Most likely omnipotent.

"So you're saying there is really no winning this," I said, impulsively reaching for the lace curtain again. This time it clearly moved before my finger brushed it.

"You'd prefer I said yes, there is a way out." Les cracked a sad smile.

"They want Wes."

"Yes, they're after what he has," Les said plainly.

What do I have? The buzzing and battering against the window continued. Both hands at my sides, I looked at the curtain. There. Just a whisper of movement-- but I saw it move. And again.

Sid was silent. Les, too. I closed my eyes and pictured the curtains being drawn aside by my hand-- the mosquito free.

I heard Sid's hushed voice ask Les: "Fuck. Did you see that?"

He buzzed by my head. I opened my eyes. The curtain still swayed and billowed.

"I think I might know another part of what they want from me," I said.

--------------------------------

It was necessary. I had to go down to the garden now. The more exposure I had to Mica, the more control I could have over what happened to us. I knew they were worried, and I knew why. What else could I move with my mind given time? If any of those with designs on this power waited too long, they won't be able to get to me. I had to go to the garden-- become stronger. We needed more time.

This was it. Les understood, but he won't go into the garden with me.

"You don't have to go with me either," I said to Sid. "You might be a distraction."

"Actually, who's to say that this isn't part of the process," Les observed. "I've been through this myself, and don't get embarrassed, but I don't think getting, um, stimulated is just a by-product of the process. I think it's the point."

"What the fuck does that mean?" I asked.

"Sex is the most basic and most complex part of life. It is life."

"Make love not war. Let's go before it gets too hot out," Sid said. "All I need is a sunburn."

Les chuckled as Sid stood up and got the Concepterol from the dresser. Sid stuffed it in his pocket as nonchalantly as possible. Didn't work. Les smirked. Sid's face flushed and mine did too. Although my blush wasn't from embarrassment-- more like lust.

Les followed us as far as the back door, then watched us walk out. I took my time. Sid fidgeted beside me. I could see Glenda hanging out the laundry on the other side of the house, pretending not to see us and where we were going.

Side by side we walked down the worn path. A hazy morning with a subtle breeze cooled our skin. Our feet, wet with dew, squished as we walked. Sound from farm fields carried up and over the hills in the still of the morning-- a tractor plowing, a chick-a-dee calling. Sid reached his hand out to mine. I thought of everything I had to lose. Days like this with someone I loved beside me. As we stepped to the entrance of the garden, I realized my cheeks were wet with tears. Part afraid and part hopeful.

He slapped his arm.

"Damn deer fly," he grumbled. "They always leave a big red welt on me after they bite." Sid dug at his arm. I could see his skin blister where the fly bit already.

The garden's fragrance seeped into me. Or rather I welcomed it in. Invited it in.

Come in, come in.

Dew. Our tennis shoes soaked and shiny. All in the garden drops of dew sparkled like diamond chips. Some still clung to the grass. Some dappled the fine hairs on the roses' leaves, and some reflected off their velvety crimson petals. Instinctively I spread my fingers for a rose. I snapped off a blossom, breaking its neck. I heard a cry--

But no, that was from me.

With my right hand, I brought the bloom to my face. Gently I twirled the flower between my thumb and forefinger, caressing my cheek, my nose. My tears mingled with the prisms of dew. I felt Sid's eyes on my back. Slowly, hesitantly I reached toward the barren stem of the winding rose I'd plucked. I grasped its stem tightly in my palm. The thorny vine wound itself around my wrist-- once, twice, three times, then tightened-- the barbs digging into my pale flesh. My blood trickled, dropping dark to the ground.

The familiar swoon began, but this time a change. A clarity, a single purpose swelled through me as Sid's hand supported my elbow. I turned, and with a violent yank, broke the vine, driving the thorns deep into my skin.

My mouth found his. I fell to the ground, or maybe he pulled me. All was cloudy except Sid clear before me. All I could feel was his heat against me. Like the barbs inside my flesh, I wanted him inside me. His tongue, his fingers, his cock, and I told him so.

He moved on top of me. His cock grinding into mine. My arms wrapped around him. I felt him flinch in pain. The vine around my wrist raked his back.

"Sorry," I moaned.

He answered by reaching for my bloody wrist. He kissed it, attentively unwinding the rose and then laid the vine aside. His fingers began to pluck out my thorns.

"No, leave them," I said.

On his index finger, I spotted a bead of blood. I brought his injured finger to my mouth and closed my eyes, sucking on his fingertip. He moaned and rocked against me. He unzipped my jeans, pushing them down along with my underwear. He unfastened his, grasping his own cock, slicking it up with the lube from his pocket.

Then his fingers danced around me. Milking my cock. Moving around my balls and maneuvering coyly around my ass. Making me cry out. Teasing me as he loves to do, as I love him to do.

As I love him.

Then he drove his fingers inside me. The garden, the roses blurred. His face, I memorized every playful freckle, every tiny white scar. I shook and begged for him to bury his fingers deeper. No sparks or dancing lights this time. No dizzy spell. Just Sid. All Sid--his knees to my thighs, his hand to my cock, his fingers inside me, his eyes in mine. Together.

As his wrist turned, pulling up and down on my dick, his fingers found the spot inside me. Fuck, I was helpless. All for him. I knew I was coming already. Stop! Too soon. But what did it matter? I had him, and God he felt good. I spilled over his hand. His eyebrows arched. He was more surprised than me. I kind of chuckled-- like I beat him at his own game. He hadn't anticipated my orgasm either.

His fingers left me.

He eased his cock inside, little by little, slowly filling me. He wouldn't let me win that easily. Heat spread from my groin to my face. My cock remained hard-- harder from the pressure of Sid inside me. He held my knees and pushed them back against my chest-- lunging deeper inside me. He smiled and kissed my knee.

I reached for my own cock. Sid sighed in appreciation as I began to pump my dick in time with his thrusts. Then he let go of my legs-- throwing all of his weight into me, his mouth finding my neck, sucking on it like a teenager giving their first hickey. His hands on my chest and in my hair.

What was he doing to me? Along with the intoxication from the roses and my wrist throbbing, Sid was pushing me to the edge of another climax.

Then his mouth found my tongue. He sucked and chewed on it. All the while, thrusting into me, aiming perfectly into just the right spot with his perfect dick. I whimpered beneath him. He loved it. I didn't believe I could come again. Not possible, I thought. But I felt myself on that edge. This time I didn't fall right over the top, he kept me there on the precipice, aching.

Finally releasing my tongue, he spoke to me. Bringing his mouth next to my ear, murmuring, "I love you" as he climaxed. His shudder brought me close, so close. But no release. Then I felt his hand on mine, helping me, his thumb playing with the tip of my cock.