Chapter 9 - Harlow

“Wakey, Wakey, eggs and bakey.”

         The voice sounded familiar, but behind my lids, I couldn’t place that voice. Everything hurt; I felt like I was hit by a truck.

         “Come on, Harlow. Get up. Don’t be a lazy bones.” A hand shook my shoulder.

         I groaned. I stretched but instantly regretted that action as it pulled on the stitches in my legs and back. I opened my eyes. The person who stared down at me was Joe. I slammed my foot into his stomach. He doubled over.

         “Jesus.” He breathed out.

         “What the fuck are you doing here?”

         “Why did you kick me?” He gasped. “You saw it was me.”

         “You broke into the house. What did you expect me to do?”

         Joe rolled his eyes.

         “Answer the question, what are you doing here?”

         “Malachi wanted to talk to you.”

         I stared up at him, there was something behind those eyes. He was hiding something, but I couldn’t tell what.

         “So?”

         “He’s asking for you to come to his office.”

         “Why?”

         “To talk.” His eyes were pleading. As if this was not an ask but a command. And Joe had to do it against his free will.

         “And if I say no?”

         Joe let out a long breath and rubbed his hands over his face. “Do you always have to be so difficult?”

         “This is how I see it. Something happened last night, and you aren’t telling me something. So, Malachi is concerned that I know something and wants to ‘talk’ but you don’t want to bring me in.” I used my fingers to put quote marks around talk. He and I both knew what talk meant. And usually that involved some sort of torture.

         “That’s not it at all.”

         “Pray, tell, what is it then?”

         “You are being difficult.” He shook his head at me.

         I sat up in bed, and I went slowly. I felt every muscle move beneath my skin, and the muscles around my cuts screamed. I groaned against the pain. Joe pulled on my arm to help me into a sitting position. I stared at him, and I waited for an answer.

         “He really only wants to talk.”

         “Is he some sort of cult leader?”

         Joe let out a loud bark of a laugh. “Is that what you have been thinking? That I’m in some sort of cult?” He laughed again.

         “One of the many scenarios that I’ve been working through.” I pushed myself to stand and weaved slightly before I stabilized.

         “No, Harlow, I’m not in a cult.”

         “That’s good to know.” I shuffled to the bathroom and looked at myself in the mirror. Last night I didn’t take the time to shower or clean up. Dried blood covered my arms and legs. I knew one hundred percent that I left a mess in the bed, but I didn’t care. My body was exhausted and it’s not my house, so why would I give a fuck. I chuckled to myself.

         Joe leaned against the bathroom door and stared at me.

         “How did you get in?”

         “Remember, I’m still a Faction member. My credentials are still locked in this place.”

         “You’re lucky I didn’t shoot you.”

         Joe nodded.

         A thought popped into my head. “If I did, would you heal like them?” I stared at him through the mirror. The humor left his face.

         “Yes.”

         I nodded. “And will I find out what you are today?”

         “Yes.” I saw him grind his teeth.

         “Okay.”

         Joe exhaled, almost as if a weight had been lifted from him.

         “Can I have a few minutes to clean up?”

         “Of course. I’ll be in the living room if you need me.”

         I grabbed a white washcloth and dampened it, and rubbed it against my leg. The white cloth turned quickly into a rust color. “Sorry, Murphey.” I was ruining his linens here. He was very specific about what he had and didn’t want to ruin it. I always thought it was stupid to have white linens because they would get dirty so quickly. But no one listened to me.

         After about twenty minutes, I was cleaned up and put on a fresh pair of underwear, and slowly pulled on a pair of jeans. As the jeans slid on, they pulled on the cut on my leg. I hissed at the pain. I threw on an oversized shirt and shoved the twenty-two in the back of my pants. I wasn’t going into this without some sort of weapon. Sure, he may want to talk, but talk could quickly change to something else.

         What Joe had said struck me. He wasn’t human, like me. I mean he could be but there was something different about him. He was different, I knew something was off when I met him in the Faction. He was too good; he always came out of every mission unscathed. Even though injury was inevitable.

          I limped my way into the living room. He sat on the sofa, flipping through the channels. He looked up at me and smiled. “Lookin’ good.”

         “Shut up.”

         “How are you feeling?”

         “Like I got stabbed a couple times.”

         Joe snorted. “That will do it.”

         I went to the kitchen and grabbed a canned coffee from the fridge. “Do you want one?”

         “What flavor?”

         “Mocha, Carmel, or Vanilla.”

         “Mocha, please.” I tossed him a can and he caught it, instantly popped it open, and took a drink. “That’s good.”

         “Am I following you? Or are you driving?”

         “I think in your current state, I should drive.”

         I nodded and followed him out of the house. The door locked instantly as soon as it closed behind us. “How long is the drive?”

         “About twenty minutes.” His truck came to life, and Joe motored down the paved driveway.

The house was definitely out of place amongst its surroundings. Everything out here was rustic, and the house was industrial. But no one would find it out here in the middle of nowhere.

         I took a drink of my coffee and let the caffeine work its way into my system. I glanced over at Joe. What was he? Why didn’t he tell me what he was when I asked him last night? Did he have a gag order on him? It wouldn’t be the first time that we had had a gag order on us. We weren’t allowed to talk about the Faction with non-Faction members. It was kind of like Fight Club; the number one rule of Fight Club was you didn’t talk about Fight Club.

         If you were found guilty of talking about the Faction, you were not only discharged, but then hunted down. You of course were given a head start, the Faction wanted to make it fun for the remaining members. It was like death tag, and you never wanted to be it.

         We drove through Jackson and turned right on an isolated driveway, much similar to the driveway to the safehouse. We drove through a pass and into a valley area. There was a large house that was surrounded by smaller cabins. As we drove closer, the house loomed before us. It was built of brick and had steep gables with multiple chimneys protruding from the top.

         “This is Malachi’s office?” I watched as some people walked around the neighborhood. It was like a quaint village you would get in the countryside of France.

         “No.” Joe laughed. “That’s the main house.”

         “Main house of what?”

         Joe didn’t respond; he just waved at some people who walked in front of his truck.

         “You dodging the question is solidifying my cult theory.”

         Joe laughed.  He parked in front of the six-car garage that jutted out to the side of the house. “Come on.” He tilted his head toward the house.

         The house was completely surrounded by mountains. The only way in or out that I could see was the road we just drove up on. This would be a good place to hide but a terrible place if I needed to escape. Let’s hope that I don’t need to try and escape.

         I followed Joe into the house. Like the outside, the inside was grand. There was a center staircase that had a chandelier over it, and large paintings graced the walls on either side of the staircase. Behind the staircase, I could see what looked like a kitchen and a large dining room. To the right, a hallway with multiple closed doors. To the left, a large living room with glass windows facing the back of the house. There was a large white fireplace built on the far wall, breaking up the windows facing the outdoors. This place was gorgeous.

         “This way.” He walked down the hall with the closed doors.

         My stomach twisted. I didn’t know what I was getting myself into. Was this a bad idea? Would Joe put me in a situation where I had to fight my way out? Those thoughts twisted with the thoughts of seeing Malachi, the man with beautiful eyes. My thoughts stopped. Did I tell him he had nice eyes yesterday? Was I so drained of blood that I was delusional? I probably sounded like an idiot.

         Joe knocked on the door and waited.

         “Come in.” A voice said on the other side of the door.

         My stomach flipped. Joe pushed the door open. The first thing I saw was the other man that was with Joe and Malachi on a sofa that was next to some bookshelves. He looked up at me, he didn’t smile or say anything. I turned and saw Malachi sitting at a large oak desk. He smiled at me.

         Malachi stood. “Please, have a seat.” He motioned for the chair in front of his desk. He looked nervous.

Good.

         “I’m fine standing, thanks.”

         The smile that was on Malachi’s face disappeared. “Um…okay. Whatever you like.” He nodded at me.

         I looked at the men in the room. Each one stared at me, waiting expectantly.

         I looked back at Malachi, and my stomach flipped. Sure, he was hot, but I don’t know why he made my stomach do what it was doing. “You asked me here to talk?” I was over the silence.

         “Right, yes.” Malachi shook his head as if to clear it. “I asked you hear today to clear some things up.”

         My leg started to throb; I shifted my weight to be on my good leg. Malachi saw the shift.

         “Are you sure you don’t want to sit?”

         “Positive.”

         “Okay.” He looked at the other man in the room and shrugged, then looked back at me.

         I glanced at the man on the couch. “What did you want to clear up?”

         Malachi cleared his throat. “I wanted to know what you thought about last night.”

         I stared at him for a moment. This was a tactic that people used when they had something that they didn’t want to divulge, and then they would construct their answers off of what you had said.

         “Why don’t you tell me about it?” I wasn’t going to budge. I wasn’t going to give an incorrect answer, and he told me I was right. I didn’t know what to think about last night. I was up against something that healed at a ridiculous rate. And I didn’t know what that was.

         He pulled a hand through his hair. He looked tired. As if he hadn’t slept in days or weeks. “You’re not going to make this easy, are you?”

         “Nope.”

         Joe snorted next to me. I glared at him.

         I spoke to him in Russian. “Does he speak Russian?”

         Joe shook his head. Joe and I could speak Russian, it was part of the requirements for the Faction. You needed to be multilingual to survive.

         I continued. “You said he was going to tell me about what you are.”

         “It’s not easy.” He replied in the same perfect Russian that I spoke to him.

         “What are you saying?” Malachi interjected, and he glared at Joe.

         “Nothing.” Joe averted his eyes to the desk, instead of looking at Malachi.

         Malachi looked at me. “I was just asking him why you weren’t telling me about last night.”

         “What language was that?” The man on the sofa asked.

         “Russian,” I answered without looking at him.

         “You speak Russian? That’s so cool.” The man said to Joe.

         I gave him a weird look. That wasn’t the reaction that I was expecting from him. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on or not?” I grew impatient.

         Malachi ground his teeth together; I could hear the tension between them.

         “Then we are at an impasse, and this was a huge waste of my time.” I looked at Joe and said in Russian. “Take me back.”

         “No.” He responded in English.

         “Give me the fucking keys then,” I said in English.

         “No.” Malachi slammed his hands down on the desk. I stared at him. He was breathing heavily. “We aren’t done here.”

         I grabbed the gun that was in the back of my pants and pointed it at Malachi. “Actually, we are done here.”

         The man on the sofa stood quickly, and Joe took a step forward. Malachi raised his hands in surrender.

         “Now, Joe, you can either drive me back or give me the keys. Or else I’m going to have to fucking walk back.” I kept the gun trained on Malachi. His eyes started to glow.

         Joe looked to Malachi, and he just nodded. “Ok, I’ll drive you.”

         “Was that so hard?” I slowly lowered the gun down and Malachi dropped his hands. “It was a pleasure.” I said as sarcastically as I could.

         Joe walked out of the office, and I followed. Once we were in the truck, Joe went off. “You know you can really piss people off sometimes. Fuck!”

         “You know me better than anyone, and that was a colossal waste of my time. He wasn’t going to tell me shit. Why can’t you?” I screamed back at him. “What is such a big secret that you can’t let me know? In case some other fuckers want to fight me, I’d like to know what I’m up against. Huh?”

         I stared Joe down. He stared back. I was going to wait for an answer from him, even if I had to wait until the end of the world. This was one that I wasn’t going to lose. I couldn’t lose.

         His face fell. “I just can’t.” He started the truck.

         “Why?” I pushed.

         “It’s like the Faction. I can’t talk about it. But Malachi can.”

         “So, a cult.”

         Joe snorted. “You’re such a bitch.”

         “I’ll take that as a compliment.” I turned and looked out my window as Joe started the truck and started to drove down the driveway. Malachi walked out the front door and stared at us as we drove away. My heart dropped as we drove past him, away from him. What was wrong with me?

         Joe got me back to the safehouse in record time. I hopped out of the car without a word. Until they told me what was going on, I wasn’t going to make life easy. I got stabbed for Christ’s sake. The least they could do was fill me in on the shit going down. No doubt I would be summoned again to ‘talk.’