KITH
                        Parrt Thrree
                        Pa t Th ee




“HOW ODD IS MAN’S ABOMINABLE ATTEMPT TO CREATE ARTIFICIAL
  LIFE; HAVE WE LEARNED NOTHING FROM OUR OWN REBELLION
               AGAINST HE WHO CREATED US?”
                                                                     The Kith – 1 –


                                  CHAPTER ONE
                                  CHAPTER ONE

                                      JULY 2010

     The Farcus Café was just one business within a strip mall of many. Years ago the old
gas pumps had been dug up and covered, making room for a hair stylist, dollar store,
bookshop and grocer. It still resided on an exit from Highway 1 but was now in the
town’s outskirts and not outside the town. It had turned from a desolate gas station to a
bustling meeting place for truckers when old Farcus had passed on and his tycoon son
had taken over. It was a business run on profit and no longer on guilt.
     One hour ‘til close, Melanie thought as she looked up at the clock above the doorway.
The café was the last business to close, and was usually bustling right until Midnight. But
tonight things had calmed shortly after seven, which suited her just fine. It had given her
a chance to mop, dust and merchandise for the morning.
     Sunday nights were never the busiest, nor the most interesting. Even the radio station
had taken to replaying hits from the 90s, such as Amanda Marshall’s “Let It Rain” which
was on now. Guitar and vocals, not much talent needed there. Certainly not as much as
the current style of computer generated songs. Anyone could train their voice, but few
could master the complexities of an electronic language.
     Lost in the solitude of her own thoughtful meandering, hypnotised by the repetitive
task of cleaning the counter, it was no wonder she jumped when the door-chime sounded.
     Melanie smiled, looked up to see a young man, and glanced at the clock. Twenty
minutes to close. Please don’t stay long, she hoped. This gentleman looked freaky,
Adam’s Family freaky, dressed in a morbid trench coat and wide collared shirt. He had
his hands tucked deep into his pockets and his head tilted so that his long, Midnight hair
fell over his face. In his icy blue gaze was the melancholy of a broken heart and in his
walk a deliberateness that displayed purpose. He strolled to the stool in front of where
she cleaned, met her gaze, smiled and sat. Melanie smiled back.
     “Hi,” Melanie said and waited for him to answer. When he didn’t she asked, “Can I
get you a coffee?”
     “No.” He stared at her as though trying to transfix her with his gaze. “Have we met?”
     “I don’t think so,” Melanie said and looked at the security camera.
     The stranger stared long past that moment and did not look away until after Melanie
asked, “Do you need directions? Or medication of some sort?”
     “I’m sorry.” He put out his hand in a gesture that said, “Allow me to explain.” His
gaze wandered toward the window, at where his reflection would have been had it not
been for the display of Coffee Crisp bars. He sighed, smiled and tapped his palms on the
counter.
     He said, “I have been on the road for many days and am very tired. The Greyhound
driver said this was the best coffee in Manitoba, so perhaps I should start with that.”
     “Well okay then. Dare I complicate things further and ask regular, decaf or
espresso?”
                                                                    The Kith – 2 –

    He laughed. “Just a regular, black, boring cup of Java … second thought, with cream
and sugar.”
    Melanie found herself staring at him. His eyes had intensity about tem as though he
had lived many lives but all at once. Whether it was wisdom or a life led unapologetic
she could not be sure. The stranger made an obvious show of glancing at the security
camera, just as she had when he stared at her, and Melanie laughed. She creeped out the
creep.
    “Cream and sugar is on the counter,” she said as she turned to the coffeepot behind
her. After grabbing a cup from the cupboard below the carafe she filled it with steaming
brew.
    “I love the scent of coffee,” she said and turned to hand the cup to the customer.
    “Spoken like a true addict! Why don’t you join me in a toast?”
    “I don’t think my boyfriend would approve.” A lie she had rehearsed so often even
she sometimes believed it.
    The stranger opened two creamers and a packet of sugar. After pouring them into his
drink he stirred until the black fluid turned golden brown. He sighed again and the said,
“I just thought it might be a nice welcome.”
    “You’re staying?”
    “Returning. I went away to school.”
    Melanie started cleaning. “High school? You don’t look old enough for university.”
    At the same time that the stranger laughed the door chimed. Melanie looked at the
clock that read five minutes to close as five men entered. Each sported leather jackets,
caps and sneakers with heels that lit whenever pressed. With practised unison they
surrounded the stranger, two on his right, two on his left and one behind.
    “Well, well, well. Isn’t this all cosy and nice,” the fifth said.
    Melanie looked at the stranger, her light blue eyes like a cold cloth on a fresh burn.
When she turned her gaze on the man behind him she snapped, “Robert! This is a
customer!”
    “Customer?” Robert pushed against the stranger. “I didn’t see any trucks outside,
which makes him a drifter. Why don’t you continue to drift, punk.”
    The stranger rose and turned to face the young man. He stood only as high as
Robert’s shoulders, but, though dwarfed by his bulk, a confidence emanated from the
stranger’s eyes that made the gang leader wary.
    “My name is Trent.” He held out his hand in friendship.
    “Get lost punk.”
    “How about we all join one another in a cup of coffee? My treat.”
    Robert suddenly grabbed him and pivoted his body, throwing him toward the door.
Trent stumbled, but caught his balance. Smiling, he placed a loony and two quarters on
the nearest table.
    “For the coffee and the service.” The stranger turned and walked out the door.
    “Punk chicken shit is what he is.” Robert called, his voice drowned by the bell’s
jingle.
    Melanie, narrowing her eyes and pursing her lips, said, “Why are you so mean?”
    Robert turned to her and sat on a stool. He leaned against the counter. “Go out with
me and I guarantee I’ll be nice.”
    His two buddies sat beside him, both laughing. Melanie turned away.
                                                                       The Kith – 3 –

     “Don’t hold your breath,” she said, cleaning the coffee maker.
     “You telling me that you’d fuck Matt, but you won’t give me a ride?”
     “I didn’t fuck Matt. We made love.”
     “Aww, ain’t that sweet. But when he tells the story, and he does it a lot, he talks ‘bout
you like just another slut.”
Melanie’s muscles stiffened. “Maybe you should ask him for a fuck.”
     “Y’know bitch, one of these days I’m just going to take what I want.”
Melanie’s hands trembled, and standing tall she tried to hide her fear beneath a veil of
anger. “Not a good idea to talk like that with the surveillance cameras.”
     Robert laughed. “They don’t have sound. I’m leaving now, but sooner or later I’ll get
what I want.”
     Melanie held her composure as Robert and his buddies left. But as though the bell’s
jingle were a sprite whose song stole her strength her knees buckled and she collapsed in
tears against the counter.
     Then a voice: “There is no need for your tears, you were never alone.”
     Melanie raised her face from her palms to see the stranger. “How did you ... the bell
never...”
     “You must not have heard it over your weeping. I apologise if my presence has
frightened you, but after I left I realised I’d forgotten something.”
     “What?”
     “My manners. I’m Trent,” he said, extending his hand to her.
     “I know. I heard you tell Robert.”
     His eyes grew glossy, and he stared into a world beyond that which Melanie could
see. “How strange I would introduce myself to him, and not my hostess.” He still
extended his hand, but when his voice became as distant as his gaze she didn’t take it.
Then, as if he were in a dream he said, “I knew a man like him once.”
     Melanie laughed, breaking his dream-like state. Taking his hand she said, “I’m
Melanie. Why do you talk like you’re an old man? You can’t be more than twenty. If
even that.”
     He counted off three of his fingers and smiled. “Nineteen, I suppose. I guess when
you uproot a familiar world and later reflect upon it, it seems like a lifetime ago.”
     “I guess. Listen, I’d pour you another cup of coffee but I just poured out the pot. Can
I get you something else?”
     “Tea?”
     “Sure. Hot water and a bag, what could be simpler.” She smiled. “So, you said you
were visiting. Mind if I ask who?”
     “Not at all.”
     Melanie grabbed a tea-pot from beneath the counter and, after pouring hot water into
it, she tossed in a couple of tea bags. Taking a hot-plate from the same place as she had
got the pot she placed both in front of Trent. Still waiting for him to answer, she took his
wide smile to heart and asked, “Well?”
     “You haven’t asked yet,” he chuckled.
     “Who’re you visiting?”
     “The Powers.”
     “Oh. I don’t know them. My mom probably does, she knows everybody.” Turning
she grabbed a couple of mugs.
                                                                     The Kith – 4 –

    “They were my parents.”
    “‘Were?’ You mean they aren’t anymore?” she turned back, placing the two mugs on
the counter.
    “They died about,” again he counted on his fingers, “a year and a half ago.”
    “Oh. I’m sorry ... it must have been tough to lose them at such a young age.”
    “It’s tough at any age.” He sipped the hot tea, his eyes looking distant.
    “Where are you staying?” Melanie cocked her head and slowly brought her mug of
steaming tea to her lips. When she sipped it the tea burned her tongue. “Ow! How can
you stand the sting?”
    “That’s unfair. You’ve asked two questions. Of them, I shall answer but one.”
    She smiled and blew the steam away from her mug. “Okay. Where are you staying?”
    He looked thoughtful a moment. “I never really considered it. Could you direct me to
a hotel?”
    “I can do better. We have a guest room in our backyard. It’s sort of humble, but...”
    “It will do fine.”



    Melanie wasn’t sure how her mother would react when she saw the stranger she’d
brought home. Speeding down the highway in her Datsun station wagon, she glanced at
him. He stared out the window at the stars with a look in his eye as if he knew them
personally. She felt as though she was returning an orphan to his home, and not at all like
she was bringing home a stranger who had come to pay respects to his deceased parents.
He was so calm that Melanie had no worry that he might be some kind of lunatic. Of
course, her mother was another story.
    But even if he was, she would at least take comfort in knowing that the guest-house
was self-contained from the main house.
    “How long will you be staying?” she asked.
    “I don’t know.” His voice sounded like the rain’s empty patter on a dark summer
night.
    “When do you have to be back at school?”
    Melanie stared straight ahead at the approaching houses. She heard him shuffle, and
knew he had repositioned himself to look at her. When next he spoke he did so with a
tone that made her want to hold him. And yet all he said was: “I may not go back.”
    “You’re going to drop out? Are you sure that’s a good idea? I mean...”
    “Please,” his voice brought a tear to her eye, “there will be so much time for
questions. I have had a long trip.” He again turned to look at the heavens. “I don’t mean
to sound rude, but...”
    “It’s okay. I have a bad habit of talking too much.” She pulled the car against a curb
in front of a yellow house trimmed with light brown. “We’re home anyway. Mine’s the
ugly one. Well, the yellow ugly one.”
    Melanie climbed out of the car as did Trent. She watched him scan the
neighbourhood, a smile grew over his solemn face.
    “Where did you live?”
    “Here.”
    “Here? My house? My mom bought this house thirteen years ago.”
                                                                   The Kith – 5 –

    “Sorry, I didn’t mean your home.” He turned to face her, his pale complexion burning
red. “I meant next door. Here, next door.”
    “Oh. Come on in, I’ll introduce you to my mother.”
    “I’d like that.”
    Melanie strolled up the walk onto the stoop and through the front entrance. Trent
followed, closing the door behind him. He looked about the house, first at the sunken
living room on the right then at the reading-room on the left. Taking a few steps he
examined the tall staircase and, looking down the hall beside it, he peered into the
kitchen.
    “I like your home.”
    “Thanks. Why don’t you go into the living room and sit, I’ll get my mom. She never
comes down before...”
    “Putting on her face,” Trent said, walking into the living room.
    Melanie stared at him, wondering if it was his intention to come home with her all
along.
    She bounded up the stairs two at a time until she came to its top. Rushing down the
hall past her room, she caressed the banister the entire way and stopped only when she
came to her Mother’s room. The door was closed as usual and, tapping on it, she waited.
    “Come in Melanie,” her mother called.
    Melanie opened the door and leaned against its frame. “Can we talk?”
    Her mother was curled on her window-seat with only a reading lamp drilled into the
wall above her for light. Her large window was open, with the curtains drawn and a
gentle breeze whispering in. She was reading a novel, another vampire horror, and
holding up an index finger she quickly finished her paragraph. Closing the book she
guffawed, as if she actually knew what “real” vampires were like.
    “Of course we can talk.”
    “Uhm,” Melanie sat on the edge of the bed, lips pursed. She could no longer look her
mom head-on but had to fixate on the mirrored reflection cast against the closed portion
of the window. “Remember when you said you wished we could be more charitable?”
    “Y-ess, why?”
    “Well, there’s this guy who came into the diner tonight, and he needs a place to
stay...”
    “Stop right there young lady. You don’t propose we let this stranger stay with us, do
you? He could be a rapist!”
    “He isn’t! He couldn’t be. And I thought he could stay in the guest house.” Melanie
paused and looked at her mother. Then she whispered: “He’s downstairs.”
    “Oh Melanie!” her mother said, raising her hands and burying her face in them. She
lost the place she held in her book. “What am I going to do with you?”
    “He’s in town to visit his parent’s grave and pay respects.”
    “His dead parents? Are you kidding me? This gets better and better. Who are these
people?”
    “The Powers,” Melanie whispered. “I never heard of them, but...” she stopped. Her
mother had turned a shade of white like none she had ever seen before, and slowly she
rose.
    “He’s here?”
    “Yeah. Downstairs.”
                                                                    The Kith – 6 –




Melanie’s mother stood beneath the arch that opened up the sunken living room to the
foyer, staring at the stranger within. He stood by the window, looking out with his back
to her, and when he didn’t turn she assumed he hadn’t heard her. She tried to speak, but
no words came to her.
    Then he said, “Hello Jen.”
    “Trent?” Tears overwhelmed her like a storm over a midsummer’s day.
    He turned and walked to her, embracing her tightly. She held him, too, and
whispered, “It’s been so long. Why did you never write?”
    “I wanted to, but every one of your letters seemed so different.” He broke their
embrace and walked to the window. “You’re no longer my little sister.”
    “Y’know, when we were kids, I hated it when you called me that.” Jen laughed.
    “I still am a teenager. To me, a decade is but a year. To you, a year is but a decade.”
He turned back to her. “As I get older, I understand more and more how meaningless
time is.”
    “And seeing you reminds me how meaningful time is.”
    He walked to the couch, unable to look at her. Standing poised over the sectional he
pondered whether to sit. When he didn’t, he turned to stare at her with eyes like those of
a parent who had lost their child.
    “Do you wonder why I have come?” he asked as though he read her mind.
    “Yes,” Jen said, walking to the couch to sit, “but I’m afraid to ask.”
    “You know that I have spent the past two ... twenty-two years, learning to defeat the
Dark through Christ.”
    She nodded, and he sat beside her. Closing his eyes Trent took several steady breaths
and got that same look on his face as Melanie had when she was two and wanted to know
where her dead goldfish had gone. And when he answered, her heart exploded in the
same deadly fury as it had when she’d explained death to her bewildered daughter.
    “I am joining the Dark.”
                                                                    The Kith – 7 –


                                 CHAPTER TWO
                                 CHAPTER TWO
    Melanie crept down the wooden steps, testing each one before putting her full weight
upon it. She hunted for the “warning” stair, the one that creaked with a noise that woke
the dead. Well, sleeping mothers anyway. Not that she had ever heard it, but on more
than one occasion it had alerted her mom that she’d broken curfew. When she stepped
from the last one and begun to tip-toe toward the entryway, she wondered if there really
was a “warning” stair.
    She crouched close to the ground as if she were a five year old waiting for Santa on
Christmas eve. Her mom and the stranger were whispering, but she managed to hear him
ask, “Will you let me stay?”
    Melanie hoped her mom would say “yes,” though she couldn’t figure out why. No,
she could figure that out. He was different; strong, certain, yet kind and friendly. When
she sat with him in the diner she felt safe, and glad for the first time that she lived in
Minnow Creek. “Please mom, say yes,” she whispered.
    “Yes, you can stay,” her mother said, the words trailing close on the heels of her
daughter’s plead. “I’ll get my daughter to show you to the guest house.” Then she yelled,
“Melanie?”
    “Yes mom?” she said, rising and stepping into the entryway. She blushed, realising
they knew she had been spying.
    “Were you eavesdropping?” her mother asked with the same tension as when she’d
asked her whether she and her boyfriend were engaged in sex.
    “No,” Melanie answered, the same response as she’d given the question of sex. She
wished one of those times she could have told the truth. “I was just coming down the
stairs.”
    “Would you show Trent to the guest house?”
    Both she and the stranger held deep breaths, reminding Melanie how her mother had
put condoms inside her dresser as a test. She then told her that if she was going to have
sex then she should use protection; that if she was, then her mother would rather know
she was at least being smart about it.
    Every night her mother checked the condoms to see if any had been used, and every
night she found all of them in the drawer. Had her mom checked those in the machine
stationed inside the men’s washroom at the local bar, she would have known differently.
    “Sure I will,” Melanie answered, perking an eyebrow when she saw both the stranger
and her mom exhale as if her agreement had assured she hadn’t been listening. It made
her suspicious.…
    Trent rose from the couch and faced her mother. Melanie swore she saw a tear trickle
from her eye when the stranger said, “Thank-you Miss Snell.”
    “Mrs.,” her mother corrected, “my husband is away on business. And it’s Kraft.”
    “Of course. I should have guessed as much.” He turned from her and walked to
Melanie, holding his arm against his body in a triangle. When she took it he asked, “Shall
we?”
    “Sure, it’s just out back.”
                                                                    The Kith – 8 –

    Melanie escorted him into the back where a single floor dwelling lay hugged against
a high wooden fence. It had a door facing away from the main house, and a window
facing it. A flower garden had been planted just outside the door and, amidst the flowers,
a wooden cross jetted almost unnoticed toward the heavens.
    “It used to be a garage, but my Dad turned it into a guest house.”
Melanie’s voice quieted like a child’s top slowly losing its twirl. She stared mesmerised
at the stranger, who studied the cross buried within the flowers.
    “To whom is this in memory?”
    “My mom lost her best-friend when she was sixteen. Whenever she misses him she
spends time in her garden. I used to think it was pretty weird, but now...”
    “But now?” He turned to her, and she glimpsed embedded within his ocean-eyes
waves wishing to lash out. She turned from them when her own eyes swelled with tears.
    “Now I wish her pain would leave.”
    “You have been a most kind hostess, but I am tired. Unless the guest house is locked,
I can see myself in.”
    “It’s not locked. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
    Melanie left the stranger alone and rushed into her home. Her mother was still in the
living-room and, before Melanie climbed the stairs to go to her room, she heard her
crying. After closing her door she collapsed onto her bed as though she had just engaged
in some stressful physical activity.
    “Strange,” Melanie whispered, reaching for the phone that lay beside her alarm clock
on the night table. She depressed each number without having to think about the
sequence and, when the phone rang, she waited.
    “Hello?”
    “Hi Alix! How’s it going?”
    “Boring. Did you just get home from work?”
    “No, ‘bout half hour ago. Robert showed up again.”
    “Want me to talk to his Dad? The last time I pretended to be your mother he got a
shit-kicking.”
    “No, I don’t think that would solve anything. ‘Sides, I have gossip.”
    “Yeah? What?”
    Melanie bit her lip, thinking about how much she wanted to tell. She walked to her
window, wishing it faced the back like her mother’s Just her luck to wind up with the one
facing the street corner.
    “Well?” Alix pleaded on the phone’s other end.
    “This guy came into the diner tonight, and he is so Brad Pitt!”
    “He looks like Brad Pitt?”
    “No, but he acts like him in Legends of the Fall.”
    “Did you get his name or give him your number? You didn’t, did you. Of course not,
you’re too loyal to Matt.”
    “He’s staying in my guest-house.”
    “Matt?”
    “No! Matt and I are over, like since lunch. I caught him with Carol this time. I’m
talking about the guy ... Trent. His name is Trent Powers.”
    “How did you get your mom to agree to that?”
    “I don’t know, so don’t expect me to repeat it for things we need.”
                                                                    The Kith – 9 –

   “But he is good looking, right? How old is he, your age or mine?”
   “You aren’t that much older, my dear.”
   “Hey, five years is a long time,” Alix laughed. “So I take it Matt’s been replaced.”
   “No. I’m not even sure Trent is staying.”



    Trent knelt in the garden, his knee sitting comfortably within an impression.
Emotions swirled in him as though he were a toy soldier discarded by the child for whom
he marched. Caressing the wooden cross he plucked a yellow bloom and laid it before the
marker.
    “I am dead in your eyes, aren’t I?” he asked without taking his gaze from the grave.
    “Can you tell me that the girl you thought of as a `sister` is not to you?” Jen knelt
beside the grave, placing one hand on his shoulder. “If you came to say good-bye, or
because you needed to see if things really had changed, then I hope you’ve seen enough.”
Jen paused, and staring at him sidelong she pursed her lips. “You didn’t come back to say
good-bye, did you?”
    “No, I did not.” Trent rose and walked to her. Placing his hands on her shoulders he
looked deep into her baby blues. “I came to ask for your help.”
    Jen felt a numb finger trace over her spine. She wondered what it was that a Kith
could need from her.
    Trent smiled with closed lips, though one eye tooth hung out. “You’re afraid to ask
what?”
    Jen nodded.
    “It isn’t blood, if that’s what worries you. I get drunk on the Holy Spirit, not on
death.”
    “That wasn’t what worried me,” Jen’ words were lost under a long sigh.
    “You may wish, after I tell you what it is, that it was only blood.” Trent turned from
her and his gaze again fell upon his grave. “Keelin failed in my mission when the Dark
demanded she partake in a Life-drink.”
    “So what makes you think you’ll succeed where she failed?”
    “Some vampires have mortal slaves, sort of like a portable winery.” Trent turned to
her, his eyes wide like when they were kids and he had asked if she wanted to play
“doctor.”
    “I can’t...” she whispered with the same reluctance as she had more than twenty years
ago. “I have a daughter ... a husband...”
    “A life.” Trent flushed, and Jen remembered when she had told him about her going
out with Billy Bender.
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Don’t be. I came in search of Jen Snell, my `sister.` That was foolish of me. This is
not His plan for you.”
    “How do you know? What if it is?”
    “It isn’t.” Trent cupped his palm gently beneath her chin. “If it was, He would not
have blessed you with such a beautiful daughter. Your spirit dances in her eyes.”
    “But what if this isn’t His plan for you?”
                                                                      The Kith – 10 –

    “Then I will die. It is, after all, in His will for us to fail.” Trent smiled. “My comfort
is knowing that, success or failure, in Him I am saved.”
    “I wish you wouldn’t go.”
    “If I die, I do so as one of God’s children. If this person lost in the Dark dies, they do
so damned. If I forsake the chance to introduce this person to my Saviour, how closely do
I walk with Him?”
    Jen embraced him and wept. “I will pray for you everyday, and thank God for this
good-bye.”
    “This has been much harder than I expected. I will leave tomorrow night.”
    “Are you afraid to die?”
    “After coming back to Minnow Creek and seeing how rapidly the world has changed
without me, I am more afraid to live.” He closed his eyes and, breathing heavily, he
whispered, “Will you do me a favour?”
    “What?”
    “Keep this grave. Trent was a good kid and did not deserve to die so young.”
Opening his eyes he kissed her cheek. “You ask if I am afraid to die? I tell you that I died
when I lost you.”

     White washed walls, the scent of Glade plug ins, a tiny corner walled off for the toilet
and sink and a cot. Old jigsaw puzzles glued onto cardboard hung as pictures and there
were no windows. Trent sat on the cot with the dim light above for illumination. His bag,
all the belongings from a life he still could not fully accept, lay closed on the floor.
     “Father, dear God above, have mercy on my soul.”
     A tap on the door interrupted his prayer. Rather than call out Trent walked to the door
and opened it. Melanie stood outside, dressed in a silky night-gown that hugged her as
the wind wisped about. One of her shoulders was bare and goosepimpled. Trent opened
his mouth to speak but did not know what to say. She giggled and placed two fingers
against his lips. She walked in and pressed herself against him. Trent stepped back.
     He said, “Won’t this upset your boyfriend?”
     “That’s just something I tell guys until I know if I want them. Don’t you want me?”
      You know you do! Said a voice from deep within his mind. Trent closed his eyes and
turned from her. In a voice barely a whisper he said, “What I want is not always what is
right. What we take is not always what we deserve.” He turned back to her and said, “Do
not undervalue yourself, Melanie.”
     He closed the door and again returned to the cot. Returned to his prayer.
                                                                      The Kith – 11 –


                                CHAPTER THREE
                                CHAPTER THREE
    Melanie woke the next morning a few hours before noon with sunlight pouring
through her open blinds. It chased the darkness into the shadows. She stretched to ward
off sleep, and reaching for her radio she turned on her favourite station, CBXJ. One of
her least favourite songs was playing, and taking that as a sign to get out of bed she did
just that. She showered quickly, and quietly so as not to disturb her mom. Her mother
never woke before noon on a weekend, and wouldn’t take kindly to starting today.
    Besides, Melanie had other plans. Ones that did not include her Mom. Today she
forewent her usual attire of sweats and a T-shirt for a pair of black shorts and a red halter
top. As well, she painted on a light shade of pink lipstick and a touch of rouge to her
cheeks; which was something she detested and normally reserved for social gatherings.
With one final check in the mirror Melanie skipped downstairs and then outside to the
guest-house. Last night may not have gone as planned, but seduction was her speciality.
By the end of today she would have this man, just one more notch on her belt!
    She knocked lightly the first time but harder the second. She waited longer before
knocking a third time, but when no one answered she sighed and turned; screaming when
she saw Trent behind her.
    “I am sorry. I did not intend to frighten you,” the stranger said, turning from her.
    “It’s okay. I just didn’t expect you to be up and about.”
    “Nor I you,” he looked over his shoulder at her, “were you coming to see me?”
    “Uh, yeah.” Melanie stepped back against the door. His fluid, almost mist-like
movements frightened her, sending a tingle to her chest like when she sat too long and
put a foot to sleep. “I remembered that you wanted to see your parents’ grave, so I
thought you might like a ride.”
    “Kindness such as yours is the greatest treasure from God.” He walked to her and
cupped his hand gently beneath her chin. Something inside her told her to run, to flee the
stranger and never approach him again, but something in Trent’s voice gave her the
courage to stay.
    “So, can I come?”
    He looked at her Mom’s bedroom window and sighed. “As long as you let me say
good-bye alone, and do not approach the tombstone. Whether I am there or not.”
    “Deal,” she squealed, blushing from her excitement.



    Melanie drove the wagon down Ash street, which was the opposite way from the
graveyard. Trent, sitting in the seat beside her, donned his heavy coat and kept his
window shut. The hood of the car was hot enough to cook breakfast on, and her skin
stuck to the bucket seat. She wondered how he could stand the heat.
    “You can roll down your window if you want,” she said, turning down the AM radio.
    He smiled and rolled it down. “My mind must be a million miles away. It is rather
hot.”
    “And where might your mind have gone?”
                                                                     The Kith – 12 –

     “It has been a long time since I was last here, but I recall the way to the cemetery.
This is not east, we are headed west.”
     “I’m sorry, I should’ve said something before. I want to pick up my friend Alix first.
That way I can have company while you visit your grave.”
     He looked at her sharply, his eyes as piercing as a hawk’s.
     “I meant your parents’ grave, not yours.”
     When Melanie had driven half-way down General Drive she stopped in front of a
small green house. Turning to Trent she said, “Here we are! The only house in all of
Minnow Creek that’s uglier than mine.”
     “I’ll get in the back so you and your friend can sit with one another.”
     “It’s okay. I like having you next to me,” she smiled. She paused and bit her lower
lip. As she climbed from the Datsun she added, “Don’t ask her too many personal
questions. She isn’t exactly open about herself, at least not with strangers.”
     “I never press people for what they do not volunteer.”
     “Wish I could say the same. Be right back.” Turning from the wagon she saw Alix
coming down the walk. When she came close enough Melanie hugged her.
     “Hi Alix. This is Trent,” she pointed to the man sitting inside the car.
     “Hi,” Alix bent and leaned on the open window, her long blonde hair falling over her
face. She opened the rear door, sat inside and strapped in. “So I hear you’re a student.
What are you taking?”
     “I attend a Christian school….”
     “You’re not a fanatic, are you? We aren’t exactly believers.”
     “And what are you?”
     Melanie climbed back behind the wheel and boasted, “She’s a novelist. Her big seller
is this period-piece, a romance, about a warrior who has fallen in love with this woman
who’s lost her family.”
     Alix blushed. “It’s not that big a deal. It’s barely keeping me afloat! But, hey, if you
want to pad my royalty check you can always buy a copy. It’s called Rancour.”
     “Odd title for a romance,” Trent said.
     “That’s the name of the warrior.”
     Trent looked at Alix with eyes as bright as lightning. He smiled and asked, “What
will you two ladies be up to while I tend to my business?”
     Melanie started driving down General Drive and glanced in the mirror at her friend.
Alix shrugged.
     “Why don’t we go to the fishing hole? We can pick up Trent after an hour, would that
be enough time?”
     She heard him sigh before saying, “I don’t know. Perhaps it would be best if I met
you there.”
     Melanie looked at him from the corner of her eyes and smiled. “It’s pretty far.”
     “The walk will do me good.”
     Melanie glanced in her rear-view at Alix who again shrugged.
     “O-kay.”
                                                                  The Kith – 13 –

    Melanie watched as the stranger walked to the grave-site, his shoulder’s slumped, his
head bowed and his back hunched. He moved with a slight sway and had tucked his fists
into deep pockets. He stopped at the gate and looked at Heaven through closed eyes,
pausing as if he prayed for strength. When at last he walked through the gates Melanie
thought she had seen him began to weep and, feeling her own eyes grow moist, she
turned to look at the steering wheel.
    “Mind telling me why he wanted to come here?” Alix asked, climbing into the front
seat and slamming the door shut.
    “He wanted to visit his parent’s grave. They died a year and a half ago.”
    “And he’s just coming now? That’s strange. When my Dad phoned the school to tell
me my mom had just died I flew right down to Winnipeg.”
    Melanie looked at her curiously. “You know, that’s the first time you’ve ever
mentioned your mother.”
    “She died of cancer seven years ago. I don’t really like to talk about it.”
    “I know,” Melanie took her hand and squeezed it, “and you don’t have to. Let’s go to
the fishing hole.”
    Melanie drove to the highway, still biting her lower lip. Her fingers tapped on the
steering wheel, but not in time with Old Time Rock’n Roll that played on the radio. When
she drove past their turnoff she snapped back to reality.
    Alix gave her the same look her mother did whenever she’d tried to cover-up a
wrong-doing. “Is something on your mind?”
    “No,” denial never worked with her mom either, “yeah. I think you’re right.”
    “About?” Alix asked, holding the door handle as Melanie slowed the wagon and U-
turned.
    “Trent. It’s strange that his parents died so long ago and he’s only come now.”
    “Maybe it was too painful. He’s still a kid after all.”
    Melanie looked at her with one side of her lips curled. “He’s probably the same age
as me, y’know.”
    Alix laughed, again holding the door as Melanie turned into the dirt road that led to
the fishing hole. “Then I guess he isn’t that young. But seriously, you can see what I
mean.”
    “Yeah, but...” Melanie pulled the wagon into an empty parking stall between two
cars, “he doesn’t seem like someone in mourning. He seems...”
    “Intense,” Alix whispered.
                                                                    The Kith – 14 –


                                CHAPTER FOUR
                                CHAPTER FOUR
    Melanie watched a group of children survey the landscape as they constructed giant
sand castles. But it wasn’t their hands-turned-bulldozer she studied, nor was it the engine
noises they made to which she listened. Her attention had drifted beyond the children’s
make-believe world, past the man-made oasis and even past the people around her.
    “Earth to Melanie ... Earth to Melanie...” Alix chirped computer-style, waving her
hand before her friend’s glossy eyes.
    “Huh? Oh. I’m sorry. I was just thinking, daydreaming I guess.”
    “It’s okay girl. The hot dog vendor’s here, and I wondered if you were hungry. Are
you?”
    “Well, no. How ‘bout you go ahead and eat....”
    “And what will you be doing?”
Melanie’s eyes again turned glossy and her voice drew soft, almost distant when she said,
“I’m going back to the graveyard.”
    “He’s probably done by now.”
    “Then I’ll meet him along the way,” Melanie rose to her feet, “I’ll be right back.”
    “Okay,” Alix crossed her index finer beneath her nose.



    Trent crouched on the well-kept lawn before the simple grave marker crafted from
white marble with bold, black lettering. It rose three feet from the sod reading:
“MARCIE AND DOUGLAS POWERS. TEARS CANNOT EXPRESS THE SADNESS
OF YOUR LOSS.”
    Trent shuddered.
    “Why have I been denied this fate? Is it not through death that we find Eternity?”
    If you wish an end, then do just that. Stop being a coward and bring it about yourself!
a Voice said from deep within his mind.
    Trent stood and closed his eyes. Breathing deeply he did not banish the Voice away,
but instead said, “Bravery comes in accepting God’s Will when it does not meet our own.
He would not have give me this burden had he not also given me the strength to carry it.”
    And does His Will include you joining the Dark?
    “I don’t know.”
    Does it include your corruption? That is what will happen should you join!
    “It includes our witness. Now begone! I have much to do.”
    Trent stroked his hand over the grave and sighed. Opening his eyes he smiled and
began the trek to the fishing hole.



   Melanie found a parking stall right in front of the cemetery gates. As she exited the
wagon an eerie feeling coveted her heart; it was not unlike a thunderstorm bringing an
                                                                    The Kith – 15 –

abrupt end to a sunny day. She had been to the graveyard before, back in the eighth grade
when some of her friends had thought it might be fun to tip some tombstones.
    She saw Trent leave the gates, looking back as if to make sure no one had seen him.
She didn’t call to him and when he looked in her direction she hoped he wouldn’t notice
her. He didn’t, and, as he walked the road toward the Fishing Hole, she wondered what
secret he guarded and how she could learn it. She tightened her fists and pressed her
nail’s into her palms, hoping the pain might take away the thought.
    Melanie approached the giant arch that housed two open iron gates, recalling how
terrible she had felt after her vandalism spree. Maybe that was why her voyage through
the gateway sent chills through her heart, or maybe it was the thought that there was
something dangerous about that stranger. Alix seemed to know it, it was in her voice
when she called Trent “intense.”
     Walking through the narrow cobblestone paths Melanie scanned each row of stone
markers. She felt a thousand eyes taking hold over her, but whenever she spun she saw
no one.
    “This is too weird.”
    Then she glimpsed something that made her heart skip a beat.
    POWERS FAMILY, a tall pillar read at the start of a row of markers. Melanie
remembered her promise and considered turning back. It felt wrong to go back on her
word and look at his parent’s marker, but how would he know? It may even answer her
questions of him and save her the trouble of making him talk about something that he
may not wish to talk about. By breaking her promise she would actually be doing him a
huge favour. And besides, so long as he never found out who was it hurting?
    Melanie hesitated, but taking a deep breath she began her trek. She read each
tombstone starting with the ones dating as far back as 1902, afraid as if with every word
the world might open and swallow her. Especially when she found the one for Trent’s
parents.
    “At least I know you’re telling the truth,” she whispered and, kneeling in the soft
grass, she caressed the hard marble. She sighed, relaxed her muscles, and lay her
suspicions to rest. Until she read the next marker:
    “Trent Powers, presumed dead 1975.”
    Melanie rose and screamed. He wasn’t Trent Powers! Who was he? Her mind raced
as her eyes scanned the area for him, but he wasn’t anywhere to be seen. Where is he?
Melanie wondered.
    “Oh my...! Alix!” she whispered, suddenly bolting for the wagon.



    Alix chewed her hot-dog, staring over the manmade landscape that had, at one time,
been a natural place for fish and toads. It was these moments that she missed Rancour
most. She sighed as she finished the last of her meal. Alix felt a clump of sand hit her in
the back of the head and spun. Robert, arms on hips, stood behind her with his gang. The
leader stepped toward her, his bare chest rippling with muscle.
    “Y’know you got me in shit th’other day, bitch.”
    “So that gives you the right to kick sand at me? Real tough guy!”
    “Take it as a warning. Y’go talkin’ to my Dad, I gotta hurt you.”
                                                                  The Kith – 16 –

    “Leave me alone.”
    Robert pointed at her, flexing his muscles. “Leave me alone.”
    He walked away with his gang following as his shadow. Alix rubbed the back of her
head, feeling a lump start to swell.
    Then from behind she heard a deep voice say, “You handled that well.”
    Alix turned and faced Trent. “Oh! Melanie just left to go get you, about five minutes
ago.”
    “Left? To the graveyard?” He closed his eyes and sighed.
    “Yes.…”
    “That’s okay. I have done all that I came to do.” Opening his eyes his brow fell and
he said, “You will say good-bye for me?”
    “I think she’d like you to say it in person.”
    Trent smiled and walked to her. He stroked his hair and said, “You are a good friend
to her.”
    “Avoiding saying good-bye will hurt her.”
    “Avoidance. Isn’t it strange how we can warn each other of it, and yet not heed our
own advice?”
    Alix glared at him sidelong. “What do you mean by that?”
    Trent looked at her eyes, not into them as much as through them and said, “Your
book has an interesting name. I knew a man named that once, he was of the clan
Wulfsign.”
    Alix fell back a step. She said, never taking her eyes from the tall stranger, “How
could you possibly know?”
    Trent brushed her hair from her eyes. Smiling, he said as though he spoke to someone
in need of comfort, “I know because I knew him, Alix,” he paused, and extended his
hand. “You must be Ariana.”
    Alix never took his hand. In a voice like shattered glass she said, “He died. They
killed him.”
    He hugged her. “I’m so sorry. I know what it is to have lost someone you love,” then
he spun from her, his cape rising as if a storm had erupted beneath it. When the storm
subsided he said, “Rancour would be glad to know that you have gone on with life.”
    “He would be glad to know that I will avenge him!” Alix held her hands in fists that
crafted a spiritual wall strong enough to withstand Time. But when Trent turned back to
her, she fell a step back.
    “Is that what you knew him as? When I knew him he was a man torn apart by the evil
around him.”
    “Because he was helpless against it.”
    “Because it reminded him of the evil within him. Give yourself a gift he never had.”
    “What?”
    “Peace.” And then the stranger walked away, disappearing into the horizon.
    Alix fell to her knees. “Why did you have to leave me so soon? Damn you Rancour!”
                                                                    The Kith – 17 –


                                 CHAPTER FIIVE
                                 CHAPTER F VE
    “Who are you really?”
    Trent never turned to face Melanie. Opening the guest-house door he sighed, closing
his eyes from the piercing sun as it set.
    “Answer me damn it! Why did you lie to me?”
    Trent caught her reflection in a window; she stood straight with her fists clenched by
her sides. He turned to her, but said nothing.
    “I saw the grave. I know that Trent Powers is dead.”
    “Did you read the entire tombstone?”
    “I read all that I needed. What kind of sicko are you?”
    “The kind who would not judge you nearly as fast as you have seen fit to judge me.”
Trent walked to her and cupped his hand beneath her chin, staring deeply into her eyes.
    “Why did you lie?”
    “There is nothing that I can say that won’t seem a lie. Please, ask me nothing
further.” Trent spun, his coat flailing into the air. “I will leave when the sun sets.”
    Melanie stared after him as he entered the guest-house, perplexed by his odd
behaviour.
    “Melanie!” her mother called, waking her from her trance, “Mister Farcus is on the
phone and wants to know if you can come into work. Jolene is sick.”
    “Tell him I can be there in an hour.”



    Melanie put on her Farcus cafe uniform and touched up her make-up before leaving
for work, but half-way through her shift she wondered why she had bothered. Mister
Farcus had called from Winnipeg and wouldn’t have known if she were in a pair of
sweats and T-shirt, and Jolene was so happy to have been relieved that she wouldn’t have
said a thing. The setting sun cast a bright shadow against the windows, reflecting off the
dust that had descended on the shelves. Grabbing some Windex and a towel Melanie set
to cleaning. The quiet did her good, it gave her a chance to sort out her thoughts.
    But when the door-bell jingled, her thoughts fell back into disarray.
    Melanie turned to the entryway and sang “Hello,” her voice cut short from Robert’s
cold stare. He was followed by three of his gang; Kevin, Todd, and Owen. Her heart
pumped fast and her breath drew short.
    “That crazy bitch phoned my Dad again! What do I gotta do to teach her not to mess
with me?”
    “I didn’t tell her anything...”
    “Next time you’ll tell her nothing.” Robert snapped his fingers and Owen threw his
football jacket over the security camera. Kevin and Todd grabbed Melanie and threw her
onto the counter. Ignoring her screams Own ran to help hold her down.
    Robert slapped her and said, “I tried to see who in her family I could hurt back, but
her Dad’s in Headingly on manslaughter. Seems he killed a guy. As it turns out, you’re
the only family she’s got. Lucky me.”
                                                                     The Kith – 18 –




    Trent started on the road that would take him away from Minnow Creek in much the
same manner as he had left fifteen human years ago. He donned the same full length
trench coat, runners and bell bottom pants, but this time he adorned a look of sorrow
without hope. The first time he had left the town, his world, he did so with a stranger who
called herself his sister. He had gone, leaving behind a friend whom he wished had been
a sister, and had borne in his heart hope to return to his world with it unchanged.
    Trent closed his eyes and raised his face to Heaven; falling to his knees. How could
he have known so long ago that the death of the stranger whom he’d come to love as a
sister would drive him to return to his lost world, or that when he returned the friend
whom he had once wished was a sister would now be the stranger that drove him away?
    Trent opened his eyes to look upon the Farcus Cafe. He recalled the first time he met
Keelin, and with that pleasurable memory encamped in his heart he struggled to his feet.
    “I will show through my actions that I shall continue your quest, dear sister.”



     Melanie screamed again, but the only witness to Robert’s crew pinning her down was
the mechanical eye blinded by the football jacket. Kevin held her wrists cuffed above her
head, Todd held one leg, and Owen held the other. Her body shook as Robert caressed
her hair, moving his seductive touch to her breasts.
     “All ya had to do was tell her to leave me alone,” he said, unbuttoning her shirt.
     “Please don’t...” Melanie cried, wishing she’d taken his threats seriously and told her
mom.
     “I’ll have you screaming, and beggin’ fer more.” Robert unzipped his pants.
     “Isn’t life funny, how many circles we travel?” a voice whispered in their ears,
though no one could see who had spoken.
     “Who the hell was that?” Todd asked, slacking his grip on Melanie’s leg. When she
felt her ankle free she kicked him in the nose, and she reeled backward he yelled, “You
bitch!”
     But when he rose to grab her leg again a stranger stood in his way.
     “Who the hell are you?”
     The stranger stood as confidently as one who had seen the future first-hand. It
unnerved them. His collar rose like the walls of a coliseum, and icy blue eyes burned
within its pits like two gladiators ready for war. “Who am I?” the cloaked figure
repeated, “perhaps you should ask what am I?”
     Robert zipped up his pants and stepped away from Melanie. “Kick ’is ass Todd! He’s
that drifter from yesterday.”
     Todd lunged forward to grapple the stranger to the ground, but held only air. He fell
against a stool and saw that his adversary had moved behind him. A hand grasped the
back of his neck and lifted him from the floor.
     Again a voice whispered in his ear: “You still have not inquired what I am.”
     “What the hell are you?” Todd asked, staring deep within the icy pools.
                                                                     The Kith – 19 –

    The stranger dropped him and spread his trench coat apart like wings. As he rose
from the ground an eerie wind blew into the cafe, tearing the jingling door from its hinges
and knocking down several stools. He grew fangs and, with a voice grating like Death
Itself, he said, “I am the nightmare that woke you screaming as a child.”
    Todd was the first to bolt through the door with Robert, Kevin and Owen close on his
heels. When they were gone the stranger settled to the ground, relaxing the wind as
though it were a spiritual limb. He began picking up stools, laughing quietly.
    Melanie couldn’t move. Her arms and legs were free, but still she could not move.
She lay against the counter staring at Trent as he cleaned the cafe, and moving her lips to
speak no sounds came out. The man who had been a demon only moments earlier
stopped, and looked at her with a smile.
    “You needn’t be afraid, Melanie. I was only practising.”
    “You’re ... you’re a.…”
    “A Kith,” he said as though he were the one shocked by the realisation that the
mythical creatures are real, “but I am not one to partake in blood-drinking, if that is what
frightens you.”
    As Trent held his hand out, she looked upon it as if she expected it to lash at her.
When she took it she cringed at his strong, yet gentle grasp.
    “You are not hurt?”
    “No.”
    “Good.” Trent smiled, and sighed like he’d just lost his one true love. He started for
the door. “You will apologise to Mister Farcus for me? I went a little overboard with the
theatrics.”
    “You didn’t come to see your parents grave, did you?”
    “Not entirely, no.”
    “Then why...?”
    He walked to her and caressed her cheek. “You look so much like your mother. It
made me think that nothing had changed.”
    “You’re him ... the friend she lost ... this is why she reads so many vampire horrors.”
    “I’m glad you know. Jen needs someone with whom she can be totally honest. How
hard it must have been to have carried her secret for so long.”
    “But why did you come back?”
    Trent grabbed a stool and sat upon it. Closing his eyes he sighed, and when he opened
them he said, “Perhaps this would be better explained over a cup of coffee.”
    “Two cups.” Melanie walked behind the counter and grabbed a couple mugs.
    “I thought the coffee was off limits to employees.”
    “Mister Farcus is a bit eccentric, but I think his attention will be on the broken door.”
    “Eccentric? When his father owned this place it was a two-pump gas station and he
made me mop the pavement.”
    “Mop pavement? That is weird.” Melanie filled two cups with coffee and placed them
on the counter. “You changed the subject.”
    “I thought it might relax you. I would hate to think that I permanently scarred you.”
    “Therapy’s an `in` thing anyway.” Melanie smiled at the vampyre sitting before her.
“I’ve never met anyone quite like you before. I can see why my mother was so heart-
broken when you left her.”
    “And will you be as heart-broken?”
                                                                   The Kith – 20 –

    Melanie stared into her cup, smelling the almond aroma. “Why did you come?”
    “There are two roads we can travel. It is up to us which one we choose, after all it is
in God’s Will to allow us to fail.”
    “But doesn’t self-determination contradict God’s omniscience? If He has a plan all
laid out for us, how can we have free will?”
    Trent smiled and reached for his mug. Steam rose from the hot liquid, but ignoring it
he drank. Then he said: “He is Alpha and Omega, Beginning and End. We can trust what
He says because He has seen it, not because He is a puppet master controlling mindless
robots. He has always allowed us to choose whether we are a part of His plan.”
    Melanie held her mug to her lips and blew on it to cool the liquid. “But how can His
plan succeed if we choose not to be a part of it?”
    “Because none of us are so integral that the entire thing will end as a result of our
rebellion.”
    “He took a chance leaving it up to us. What if things didn’t lead to a better end?”
    “He has intervened, Melanie. He gave us His Son to save us.” Trent suddenly
laughed, “Strange, isn’t this? A Kith offering theological apologetics. Perhaps you would
do better to read C.S. Lewis.”
    Melanie finally felt comfortable enough to sip her coffee, but cringed when it burned
her mouth. “Ooo, hot!”
    “You made that coffee, correct?”
    “Yeah.”
    “You knew it would be hot, and to an extent you knew that was good. But
uncontrolled that heat is bad, correct?”
    “I guess.”
    “So you intervened. You blew on it to cool it down.”
    “What does this have to do with anything?”
    “When God created us, He knew we would seek knowledge. Think of us as the
coffee, and knowledge as its heat. To a certain extent, knowledge is good. When it gets
out of hand God intervened; just as you blew on the coffee to cool it down, so did God
give the world Jesus.”
    “Well, if I was God I certainly wouldn’t have made the world if I knew it was going
to rebel...”
    “So if you had seen into the future and known that one sip would burn, you would not
have made the entire pot of coffee?”
    “That’s not the same thing...”
    “It’s exactly the same. You can see a greater good from the coffee by allowing it
some heat, even though one or two mouthfuls might burn you.”
    “Am I to believe that you returned to argue religion with me?”
    The Kith’s eyes grew distant, and the pupils opened like two long tunnels. “I came
because I thought nothing had changed. I came because I could not see that there is a
future, and it has come without me.”
    “I don’t understand.”
    “I needed your mother’s help, but, she has grown into a stranger ... just as I have, I
suppose.” He reached for her hands, but when she recoiled from him he did not persist.
    “What help do you need? Can I help?”
                                                                       The Kith – 21 –

     Trent smiled and his eyes warmed. This time when he reached for her hands she
accepted the gesture. “Your willingness to aid a stranger is wonderful, I will pray that
you do not outgrow it. But take this advice: do not offer help before you know what the
task is.”
     “Okay, what is it?”
     “There are three society’s of vampires: the Circle, Rogues, and the Dark. The Circle
is a group that worships Christ, and both the others are ones that worship Pleasure. The
Circle has learned of an evil Kith that is confused and does not know if it wants to
worship Pleasure. I have volunteered to infiltrate the Dark as a Rogue and find this Kith
and be a witness.”
     “Why’d you need my mother?”
     “I have to pose as an evil Kith. When they see that I do not drink blood they will
know that I am not one of them. Some vampires have human slaves whom they drink
from, and I wanted your mother to act as mine.”
     “But she could have died. Two of you dying isn’t worth saving one life!”
     Trent rose from his stool, holding tightly to her hand. “Christ will give us eternal life,
Melanie. Without Him you will find death in an eternal grave.”
     He then let go and turned from her, heading for the door. His shoulders slumped and
he lowered his head, making Melanie want to call to him. She wished desperately to say
something that would let this stranger know that she now thought of him as a friend, but
when she opened her mouth she spoke silence. Silence cut short by his turning to her
with an icy glare.
     “Tonight before you sleep, pray for me at my grave.” And then he left, leaving her in
a world she no longer understood.

    Trent strolled down the dark highway, clenching his hands into tight fists deep with
his pockets. The stars etched out a map for him, and a sliver of a moon hung to his right
as a companion. Its light reflected upon the asphalt trail, making the row of trees that
loomed from both sides appear as sinewy fingers that grabbed at him. It seemed proper to
leave Minnow Creek this way; his trek down the narrow path was symbolic of his
sojourn, and the luminous trees that of the evil which tempted him.
    He remembered when he was five and he had lost his favourite red ball. A yearning
had pounded in his chest with a need to find it, and a clamp crushed his heart with a wish
that he’d taken better care of it. At the time, he thought the world would never survive
such a terrible thing.
    A cool breeze blew up his trench coat, nipping at his goose-bumped skin. Trent
closed his eyes and clenched his teeth, wishing he could recall where he had lost that red
ball. But he couldn’t, and even if he could what would it matter? The ball would not be
the same. The elements would have changed it; the rain discolouring its crimson hue and
the sun stealing its bounce. He probably wouldn’t even recognise it.
    Trent fell to his knees and wept. When he had heard that Keelin was dead his first
instinct was to run to Jen, just as he would have twenty human years ago. He
romanticised about the two of them infiltrating the Dark and completing Keelin’s holy
mission, but that was wrong. He wished it hadn’t taken seeing how the elements had
changed her to see that.
    “How could you leave me alone?” he whispered.
                                                                   The Kith – 22 –

    “You aren’t alone,” a voice responded from above him.
    Trent opened his eyes and saw Melanie. She drove Jen’s Jeep and had stopped it,
with motor running and headlights on high, beside where he stood. He realised how
engrossed he’d become in self-pity that he had not sensed her.
    “Why are you here?” he asked.
    She knelt beside him and took his hands into hers. Trent felt her shake and, though
her voice spoke steadily, the scent from her perspiration was that of fear. And yet her
eyes, eyes that she locked with his like a chain to a prisoner, whispered a gentle strength.
    “I want to come with you.”
    “Am I to believe that our conversation conformed you?”
    “No, but it did make me think that there are greater things than our own selfish
desires.”
    “Like?”
    “Well, if there is someone in this evil society who wants to become good than that is
important.”
    “But you are a non-believer.”
    “In God, but not in good. I believe in Something, I just don’t know what.”
    Trent caressed her cheek. “Melanie, you have no idea what you are asking. If I take
you with me you may die, and your mother would never forgive me for that.”
    “But if you don’t take me you’ll fail and the Dark will kill you.” She waited for Trent
to respond, and when he didn’t she added, “I know the risk.”
    The Kith turned his back to her, nearly disappearing against the Cimmerian world.
“How could I go on, knowing that Jen hates me?”
    “Do you serve my mom, or your God? If you take me she may never forgive you but
if you don’t, will your God forgive you?”
    Trent turned to her and laughed. “You are as crafty as your mother. The Lord forgives
all who ask, so long as you love Him with all your heart and soul.”
    “I don’t want you to die.”
    “Then you must do everything I say, and when we are done you will return home to
your mother.”
    “I promise!”
    “First rule: never make promises.”
                                                                     The Kith – 23 –


                                    CHAPTER SIIX
                                    CHAPTER S X
                                   SEPTEMBER 2010

     The sky appeared above as an opal chasm whose blackness was interrupted only by
silvery flecks. At times clusters burst across the Heavens, later followed by solitary strays,
but what they found at the end of such journeys was known only by myth. Was it Valhalla
or Hades, or simply another Cimmerian ether? Did the destination matter, or was it the
sojourn, though over in a flash, that held importance?
     Jack sat before the campfire, amidst the people he called friends, and took another swig
of beer. The chatter was meaningless, the gaiety pointless, the encounter just another of
many. Jack looked up again, this time focusing on the stars that did not move, and
wondered if those that deserted did so because they burnt out or were just fed up with
their existence?
     “Whose cabin is this anyway?” Todd asked, reaching for a jacket to protect him from
the cool wind. The sound of waves lapped upon pebbled beaches from the nearby lake.
     “I’m renting it for the summer,” Karen laughed and added, “I paid a $300 damage
deposit, so if you plan on getting wild you better chip in.”
     They all did, including Jack. He again caught a glimpse of a shooting star. Standing, he
stretched out his arms and groaned, “I’m getting sore. I’m going for a walk.”
     “Beer run?” anyone could have said it.
     Jack didn’t turn but did grab another beer from the cooler. He replied, “Just a walk.”
     Footsteps rushed and fell in beside him. Out the corner of his eye he saw Audra. She
pressed into him with her short, slender figure and rested her head on his arm. Jack did
not respond, just kept on walking.
     “You feel cold tonight,” she said.
     Jack stopped. The fire could still be seen off in the distance, but their immediate
surroundings were cast in a surreal shade of navy. He looked down into Audra’s eyes, she
tilted her head so that all of her hair would flip over one shoulder. Jack pushed her away.
     “Not tonight,” he said. “I don’t feel like it.”
     She pressed in closer, rested her arms on his shoulders and whispered in a sultry tone,
“That’s the beauty of us. No ties, no feelings.”
     “I’m serious Audra.” He stepped away and stopped only when his foot sank ankle deep
in the soft moss.
     Neither was quite certain how long they stood just staring at one another. Later on they
would recount the moment as a blip in their memories, but during the fact it seemed like
forever. Audra tucked her hands into her pants pockets, sighed and looked up to where the
celestial fireworks were still taking place. She sighed and shrugged.
     Jack closed his eyes in a vain attempt to shut out the world. There was a nip in the air
that seeped through his leather jacket and sent shivers cascading over his spine. The breeze
carried the scent of fish that made Jack think of the fishing trips his father had promised to
take him on. Promises long broken before they were muttered through drunken lips.
     Jack took a swig of his beer.
                                                                   The Kith – 24 –

    “Are you happy?” he whispered so softly the words were barely audible over the lapping
waves.
    Audra smiled, a gesture so forced that the edges of her lips quivered. She looked up at
him and shrugged. “Sure I’m happy. My life lacks nothing.”
    “Mine does. My life lacks something and I don’t know what.”
    There was another long pause. “Does it have to do with me?” she asked.
    Jack reached out and brought her to him. “No, it has to do with me. I’m missing
something and I cannot figure out what.”
    “Then let me help you find it.” Audra kissed him long and deep. She moved his hands
over her body then hers, through his hair and pressed herself tightly against him. Jack did
not object, though he’d lied when he said the emptiness did not have to do with her.


     Jack opened his eyes, gasped for breath and expected to feel his heart pound. But not
even waking from a nightmare could bring life back to his immortal body, and leaving
the affright he entered the waking dream. Blankets were tangled through his body like a
pretzel and his mouth felt dry. There was a fireplace across from the bed black from
ashes of neglect. Hot water ran through pipes above heating the stuffy air. Beside the bed,
flush against the wall, was a bureau with full-sized mirror. Drawers were open and
clothes strewn on top with very few still folded inside. The cement walls were barren and
windowless, and they whistled from air seeping through cracks.
     A soft tap on the door did not make him flinch even an inch. He hated his dreams, yet
still preferred them to reality. He sat up while untangling himself from his sheets.
Reaching for the ceramic lamp on the night-stand he pulled the rusted chain and dashed
away the darkness. It stung his eyes at first, but long ago pain had become the closest
thing to emotion that he dared tread. The tap on the door turned to a knock.
     “I’m awake,” he yelled.
     “’bout time,” said a young woman, maybe in her mid-twenties, as the door creaked
open on rusted hinges. She was tiny, both in height and stature. She had brown eyes and
hair, thin red lips and a nose like a button. Though thin, her form was curvy and well
endowed, perfectly suited for the purpose life had given her.
     “What time is it?” Jack asked.
     “Almost Noon.”
     “Noon? You mean Midnight.” Jack grabbed a gnarly pair of jeans from a chair and
sat over the side of the bed. As the chair fell to the ground Jack put on the pants.
     “Time is relative.” She picked up the chair and straddled it.
     “When are you going to clean this place up?” There was an edge to his tone. He did
not look at her.
     “I didn’t know you wanted me to.” Her voice cracked.
     “Do I look like I want to live in a pig-sty? Where’s my grey shirt?”
     “I don’t know,” she whispered, her eyes wide and hands shaking.
     “Bullshit!” Slapping her hard he stood and walked to stand before the mirror, though
he cast no reflection.
                                                                  The Kith – 25 –

   Tammi collapsed to the floor. Rubbing her face she reached under the bed and
produced the garment in question. Jack grabbed it and slipped into it. He headed for the
door.
   Tammi said, “You’re supposed to go see Naztar.”
   Jack opened the door, paused in the frame, but walked out without a word.



    “You are either a very egotistical man, or a very stupid one.” Naztar, clad in an
Armani, sat behind a large oak desk. A computer took up much of the space on the desk
except where a cluster of papers was piled in the center. The Kith ignored his guests and
turned to face a large window behind him, pulling on a chain that drew back large, heavy
drapes. At one time the second story glass gave view to a densely treed park, but now it
overlooked the busy street and shops that had destroyed nature’s refuge.
    Paintings adorned the walls, most dating as far back as the Dark Ages, all different
save for having the same theme. In each a youthful woman, long red hair and eyes so
green they took away one’s breath, was featured so realistic it could have been a
snapshot. In some she was merely sitting with her hair draped over her shoulders, but in
most she was dancing to different backdrops. There was no shingle beneath to say who
she might have been.
    A fireplace, ablaze with life, brought heat to the modest quarters. The floor was
hardwood and well taken care of, and before the desk were two Edwardian chairs
occupied. In one sat Trent wearing the morbid signature attire of his kind: tapered jeans,
silk dress shirt and a full-length trench coat. In the seat beside him sat Melanie, tanned
complexion, short blue skirt and a white blouse. Her blonde hair was tucked beneath a
baseball cap that read, “Winnipeg Blue Bombers.” She was quite a contrast to the pale,
sickly-looking Kith.
    Naztar kept his back to his guests and said, “What makes you think you have
anything I desire?”
    “When you address me, you may call me Trent,” he paused uncertain if his disrespect
had gone too far or not far enough. He had never before seen Cimmerian Kith and only
had legend and hearsay to go on. He continued when there was no comment from the
Sage. “I have been a Rogue since my Begetting. I have accumulated many things, yet still
I yearn for something more. My Pleasure is incomplete.”
    On the word “something” Naztar turned from the paned glass and meandered around
the desk. Standing before the woman he took her hand and kissed it. “Such a beautiful
blood-slave, how can your Pleasure not be complete?”
    Rouge filled the woman’s cheeks as Trent stood and picked up a leather satchel that
was at his feet. He did not want too much attention on Melanie in case her fright gave
away their masquerade. But it was not fright Trent sensed from her but excitement.
Opening the bag he said, “I have been a collector of antiquities and have amassed quite a
fortune.”
    The word “fortune” took Naztar’s attention from the woman. Trent continued, “I
desire a family with whom to share my wealth.”
    “Indeed.” Naztar took the bag and returned to his desk.
                                                                   The Kith – 26 –

     “Those are yours, a gift from me. Should you desire more we can work out a
partnership.” Trent sat back in his chair, feeling rather smug.
     Naztar opened the bag and examined its contents. His eyes widened, his jaw dropped
and had there been blood in his veins it would have boiled. Trent knew he had pushed too
far, but before either could speak there was a knock on the door.
     “You’re invited,” Naztar growled.



     Hallways intertwined through the complex like a series of intricate mazes. To
outsiders this Labyrinth was impressive, but Jack had become bored of it long ago. To
him each path lead to a dead end, regardless of what lay beyond the door ahead.
Opportunity and stalemate were kindred spirits, success and failure so closely linked they
were married cousins. Grasping the handle to the portal before him he took pause. He
never knocked, except when on business. But today he did not feel like business, nor like
play, nor like anything in-between. But he knocked anyway, and entered only when
asked to do so.
     Jack hated this place. Naztar resembled too much the human businessman and not
enough the Kith he was. His Sage sat behind his oak desk, and on the opposite side was a
tall, thin vampire and his blood slave. She was stunning. Her beauty took Jack by
surprise, and he smiled revealing two pointed teeth. This was the kind of woman who
could make even a vampire blush.
     “You summoned me,” he said without taking his gaze from the girl.
     “That I did. Jack, this is Trent Powers and his blood-slave Melanie Snell.”
     “Blood-slave?” In fluid movements Jack kneeled before her as if in proposal. She
smiled as he took her hand, a touch like silk over naked flesh, and kissing it he said,
“You have not been Begotten.”
     “Nor shall she be!” Trent growled and rose.
     Naztar chuckled though his face remained stern. “You would be wise to regard my
Progeny with respect. The Age may have brought a breed of Kith who abhor murder, but
I assure you that Jack is of the old school.”
     The Sage stood and casually walked around the desk. As he did so Jack caught a
devious, yet worried glint in his eye.
     Naztar spoke, “He is a chip off the old block. He finds Pleasure in selfishness, power
and dominance.”
     Naztar walked to the fire and stoked it. He and Melanie were the only two who did
not flinch.
     “Challenge him and you will have more than you can afford to purchase.”
     Jack stood and bowed to Trent. “On the contrary, I meant you no disrespect.”
     When he rose he stood chest to chest with the newcomer and said, “Nor do I believe
you would me. You are no longer a Rogue, we are brothers in the Dark.”
     Trent did not back down, but there was a nervousness in his tone. “I apologise if I
seemed imprudent, I do get testy when my supply is threatened. Could we be shown to
our quarters?”
     Naztar opened the door but Jack spoke, “There is an empty room beside my kitchen.
You will bunk there.”
                                                                  The Kith – 27 –

    The Sage added, “Jack will show you the way, but first wait outside. I have business
with my Progeny.”
    “Of course,” Trent rose and followed his blood-slave out. After Naztar closed the
door Jack sat in Melanie’s chair and kicked his feet onto the desk.
    “You didn’t summon me for an introduction, did you?”
    Naztar walked to his Progeny. “That’s what I like about you, your intelligence.” He
slapped the boy’s legs from the desk sending the papers beneath them to the ground.
    “What I don’t care for is your lack of respect.”
    “He’s a Christian, that was the odd sensation you felt.”
    “I figured as much.” Naztar turned his back and Jack knew it was to hide his fear.
    “I won’t kill this one.”
    Naztar’s eyes widened. “Oh?”
    “I will corrupt him. Make him like us.”
    “I shall allow that, but I suspect it will be tougher than you believe.”
    Jack stared into his father’s thoughtful gaze a moment. “Why?”
    Naztar sat in the chair Trent had occupied only moments ago, staring at a jewel-
crested gauntlet from the satchel.
                                                                 The Kith – 28 –



                               CHAPTER SEVEN
                               CHAPTER SEVEN
    “What a rush!” Melanie pirouetted once her and Trent were alone in their quarters.
    The Kith just smiled.
    The room was the size of a Vancouver apartment. A glass door tucked into the left-
hand corner opposite the entrance lead to the washroom that was theirs. Walls, painted
eggshell white, were chipped and mildew stained. Shag carpet, filthy with years of dust,
covered the floors, and the air had a stench that took back both vampire and human. Trent
carried their bags to the bureau and sat on the bed.
    “We share the kitchen outside with Jack. For future reference, don’t be too loud.”
    “Except for the moaning and groaning?” She waited for a response. “Sorry, just
trying to make us believable.” Melanie walked to the bed and sat beside the Kith. “Trust
me enough to share?”
    Trent sighed and looked thoughtful a moment. “We should clean this place, it’s
disgusting.”
    “Come on, don’t change the subject.” She squeezed closer to him. “Is it because sex
is against your religion?”
    “It’s because promiscuity doesn’t honour God.”
    “What about Minnow Creek’s pastor with the two car garage? Does his wealth
honour God?”
    The Kith took her hand and gently squeezed it. “Having sex before marriage is no
more a sin than accumulating wealth. But just because one man breaks a Law while
feeling self-righteous for having kept another doesn’t give us license to do the same.”
    “Damned if we do, damned if we don’t?”
    “We are saved by grace through faith. Damned if we do, damned if we don’t have
Christ.”
    Melanie put her head on his shoulder and sighed. Just then there was a knock on the
door as of someone kicking. Trent stood and paused, but with nothing left to say he went
to the door and opened it. There he found a tiny woman struggling beneath the weight of
a large mirror. The Kith grabbed it with no effort and the girl zipped around him.
    “Thanks! It’s yours, for your blood-slave of course.” Laughing she held out her hand
to Melanie. “I’m Tammi.”
    Trent kicked the door closed and placed the mirror on the bureau. “I’m Trent and this
is Melanie.”
    Melanie shook Tammi’s hand and stared at a large bruise on the woman’s cheek.
“What happened?”
    Tammi stammered, “I hit myself on the glass. I’m such a klutz.” After an
uncomfortable silence she became bubbly again. “I’m so glad to have another girl my age
here!”
    “You’re a blood-slave too?”
    “Y’know, I really hate that title.” Tammi glanced into the looking-glass and her eyes
widened. “Did – did I just see your reflection? It was only for a second, but….”
    Trent smiled with pride. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now, will you please excuse us?”
                                                                    The Kith – 29 –

   “Uh, Naztar wants you in a meeting pronto. Can I show Melanie around?”
   Trent nodded.

    Corridors, lit by halogen lamps dimly igniting freshly laid hardwood floors and
pharmacy-green painted walls, bustled with Kith. The décor was a good sign that no
interior decorators had been Begotten, though it did seem that Jack’s corner was the only
part still in ruins. Some rooms echoed with Heavy Metal, others with the electronic tunes
of the day but most with orgasmic choruses. Out in plain sight men took up with men,
women with women, and human with Kith. Trent became so preoccupied with trying not
to see while appearing at ease that he lost his way.
    Every door looked the same, every hallway just another passage to impropriety. He
stopped, lost, surrounded by the very sinful nature from which he struggled to stay free.
That was when it returned to him, when it came with the force of a megaton bomb. That
voice from the deepest chasm of his subconscious.
    Do not be appalled at the sight of your true nature.
    Sweat beaded on Trent’s brow, his hands shook and fear held his fast. He did not
know how much time had passed between the Voice and Jack coming to him.
    Jack said, “It’s easy to get lost, you should have waited for me.”
    Trent still shook but he forced a smile upon himself.

    Jack walked the Labyrinth like a man lost in it forever. He did not consider which
paths to take, nor did he regard his Kith when he passed them. They did regard him,
though, Trent noticed. Most stopped speaking, many bowed their heads, all displayed
fear as if it should pass for respect. Jack walked with his head held high, staring straight
ahead parting the masses with his gaze. Chest puffed out and lips pursed. Trent knew this
was a Kith worth fearing.
But what, he wondered most, was what the Voice in Jack’s conscience said to make him
believe this was Pleasure? Was it even that which drove this vampire, pr was his
motivation something else so vile that not even the vampire could comprehend? A part of
Trent wished he could spy into the desires of Jack’s heart, but the rest of him was
thankful he could not. Then he thought of his own Voice and of how overpowering it had
been when he was alone. Living amongst Christians he had experienced a sanctity in
Enemy territory, but now he walked in the heart of Enemy lands. He now knew. And it
terrified him to know this, if he did not change them they would change him.
“Fear,” Jack said without so much as blinking.
    “Huh?” Trent wondered of his subconscious meandering had given him away.
    “In every Kith who would call me brother, I see fear.” Jack stopped before an
unmarked door and grasped its handle. It was brass and the lever kind, not the usual
round handles found on other doors. Trent wondered why he now paid attention on such
mundane details.
    Jack continued, his gaze penetrating, “You must have wondered why the son of
Cimmerian’s most powerful Sage does not have friendships, but now you know.” Jack
placed his hand on Trent’s shoulder. “Now come.”

   At one time this room was most probably the plant manager’s. A space dedicated to
deciding the company’s future, and the welfare of those very people who made that
                                                                    The Kith – 30 –

future possible. Its current use was not any different, it was still a place where the future
of its occupants were decided. What changed was the product by the plant, or was it?
Trent wondered. Greed is greed is greed.
    He followed Jack inside the well-lit room. The floors were laid with grey-blue carpet,
the walls painted with a neutral eggshell white, and there was a door diagonal to the
entrance which seemed, from the scent, to house a kitchen. Dominant in this room was a
V shaped table where Naztar sat. Three people on either side branched off in descending
order of authority. Jack walked to stand obediently beside his father.
    Trent started to fidget, but caught himself and stopped.
    “Mr. Powers,” Naztar said with the elegance of a noble. “Allow me to introduce to
you the other Sages. To my right is Josh, Keith and Stone. To my left: Johann, Robert
and Claude. For you to be accepted into our family you must first be adopted by a Sage.
Is there one who will do so?”
    Silence. Not one of the seven spoke. Trent’s heart thundered nearly a beat a minute
and he worried they might hear.
    Jack said, “I am not a Sage, nor am I strong enough tom challenge for a seat, but there
are moments when strength is not determined by what one can do but by what one will
do.”
    Naztar asked, “And what will you do, Jack?”
Jack deserted his post and walked to Trent, purposefully taking the route to pass Claude.
He smiled when he met Trent’s gaze and he said, “I am willing to make this man my
brother.”
    “This charade has gone on long enough!” Claude stopped abruptly but Trent did not
see the reason why. He could only assume it was Naztar, for it was he who spoke next.
    “It pleases me when Kith act as kith. We are brothers in the same blood, and what we
call ourselves is no misnomer. I shall take Trent as my own and appoint Jack as his
tutor.”
    Then Jack slit his wrist with his nail and held it for Trent. He said, “Drink and be one
with me.”
    Trent did not know what to do. Did partaking in this ritual betray God, or would his
faith protect him from such judgement? Many Voices shouted answers and
rationalisations in his subconscious so loud and so fervently that Trent did not know to
which he had listened when he finally made his decision. He was not even certain when
exactly he had taken Jack’s arm and drank.
    “You are now my brother,” Jack said when Trent had finished.
    Naztar applauded, his grin like a child’s on a bountiful Christmas morning. “Now we
will feast to celebrate this union of Cimmeria and Rogue.”
    “If it pleases you,” Jack said, “I would like to replenish my blood with my slave.”
    Naztar nodded and his Protégé left. Trent sat, trembling, blood still fresh on his lips.
As servants brought food from the adjoining room he had but one voice left in his mind
that said, “What have I done?”



    Melanie followed Tammi through dimly lit corridors. The scent of incense saturated
the air around her, and a hollow echo from her footsteps on the cement floor made her
                                                                    The Kith – 31 –

feel isolated. She glanced at her companion who walked a few paces faster than herself;
her strides short but quick, her shoulders held back, and her chest out. Yet her soft stare
into nowhere betrayed sadness. Melanie considered asking what her story was, how she’d
become a blood-slave and why, but she considered it only for a second. Only as long as it
took her to remember that if Tammi told of her story than she’d be expected to tell of
hers. And she had no idea what Trent wanted her to tell people of their meeting.
     “In this room is where I want to show you,” Tammi said.
     “Okay,” Melanie followed her through a door that lead onto a balcony. It was small.
Large enough to hold only a few people, and it overlooked a busy street where man-made
glitter flickered as if pining for their attention. Walking to the edge of the balcony
Melanie leaned against the railing, her eyes locking with a city teeming with life.
     “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, pulling her shirt tighter to ward off a cool wind that
had risen.
     “That’s not what I wanted to show you. Up there, the stars, that’s why I come here.”
     Melanie followed to where Tammi pointed, her eyes landing on a sky exploded with
light. Tammi sighed, resting her head against her palm.
     “You probably don’t care much about this, and if you want to leave I’ll understand.”
     Melanie leaned against the railing and looked at her new friend, whose eyes had
caught a shooting star. “I love the stars. I can’t imagine how anyone could not.”
     “No? Then welcome to the Dark where your life’s goal is to find Pleasure. Nature is
not something we think of here, at least not unless a profit can be made from it.”
     “So how come you’re different?”
     “Because at one time I had one of those stars in my heart.”
     Melanie saw a look in the girl’s eyes so deep that she had to look away or risk being
swallowed by it. She looked down at a gold ring. “I like your band.”
     “It was my mother’s, or so I’ve been told. She gave me up for adoption, so it’s not
like I can ask.”
     “Must have been tough, but I’m sure she still loved you.”
     “She tried to abort me herself several times. Doctors said I was lucky to be alive. I
used to believe that it was God who saved me.”
     “Used to?”
     “I don’t believe in anything anymore.”
     “Tammi!” a voice bellowed from behind.
     Turning, they saw Jack standing in the doorway. “It’s time you returned to out
quarters, I need your blood.”
     “I’ll see you later,” she said, never looking away from the floor as she walked back
inside.
     “Bye,” Melanie called, but the only one left to hear her was Jack.
     He stood at the door, leaning against its frame. Cocking his head to the left he folded
his arms in front of his chest and smiled; his lips crooked and one tooth hanging out.
     “You’re afraid.”
     Melanie turned her gaze back at the stars. “Why would you say that?”
     “I can smell it.”
     “You smell my cold.”
     “If you feel chilled, come inside.”
                                                                       The Kith – 32 –

    Melanie wondered what to say now. She didn’t want to go near him, truth was he did
frighten her, but would she be giving herself away if she didn’t?
    He chuckled. “There was a time when I, too, tried to enter a new life. One that I did
not belong to.”

    A cloud covered sky cried melancholy over a world anticipating joy. Grass grew straight
as pins like a moat around a three room building with a cement bridge over the green
leading from road to door; above which was a placard, “We need to talk – God”, swinging
in tune with the wind. Glass walls gave an aquarium view of those inside who smiled,
laughed and shook hands. Their greeting was gentle and respectful, each one not noticing
the others Sunday attire.
    Jack considered his Sunday attire. It was no different than that of his Monday,
Tuesday, or any other day attire. He had on the same sneakers that Todd had spilt beer
over, the same blue jeans he’d dropped a cigarette on and the same T-shirt and leather
jacket he’d worn when he punched out the bouncer. Why am I here, he wondered. He
recalled his conversation with Todd, his best friend since junior high, and wondered if his
bud had been right.
    “What the Hell you need that shit for?” he’d asked plainly.
    Jack recalled that the bar had been crowded, they were standing with no where to sit,
and he was on his third Blue. Audra, an on-again off-again fling, was dancing with some
stranger on the dance floor. All in all, until this conversation, it was a night like any other.
    “I just can’t go on like this.”
    “You a cripple? You look well enough to me, so why go lookin’ for a crutch?”
    “I’m not looking for a crutch, I’m looking for a door. I don’t belong here. I never
have.”
    Todd signalled the waitress. “You need another beer.”
    “You aren’t listening to me!” And that was when he’d pushed Todd, who bumped into
a crowd of guys, thus beginning a fight that ended the night.
    Taking a few steps forward he stopped, ran his hand through his hair, and spun to
leave. There was a tall, cloaked figure looming behind him. His skin was nearly
transparent, his eyes a shade of blue like the lake’s in Jasper and a smile as empty as Jack’s
heart. They stared at one another until Jack said, “What?”
    “I could ask you the same thing. What do you think to find here? What is it you seek?
From what are you running?”
    “I’m about to lose my patience pal.”
    “You will lose more than that should you venture within those walls. Your identity,
your free will. You do not belong here.”
    Jack shook his head and turned to leave, but, faced with a young woman whose blonde
hair and green eyes made him take pause, he stopped. The cloaked figure had disappeared.
    “Hi,” she said. At first Jack could not say anything, for rather than words his mind
raced with images. Scenes of all the things he’d done and of how she’d despise him for it.
If only, and when only, she knew of them.
    The woman said, “Are you coming in?”
    Jack considered again. “Uh, no. I was just… ” he could no longer look at her.
                                                                      The Kith – 33 –

     “I’m Cecil. It would be wonderful if you came in. You could sit with me and I’ll
introduce you to everyone.”
     “Thanks. I’m Jack.”
     Cecil smiled and took his hand. Her skin on his felt strange, as if their union opened a
door to a world flooded with light. But although the door was open, Jack still resided on
that side of darkness. Sighing, he ran his free hand through his hair and followed the
woman inside. It was strange being someplace where everyone who asked his name did not
follow it with, “Turn to the left please.” The faces smiled, eyes sparkled and whispers of
“Have you accepted Christ as your personal saviour?” echoed around him. All in all it was
different from anything he’d known before, and yet it was as familiar as if he’d come home.
For the first time in Jack’s life he felt truly happy.
     Cecil led him into a room off the greeting area. “This is where we have our Bible
studies, I’ll introduce you to everyone.” She let go of his hand and entered a large, spacious
area with a table set with seven chairs, only one of which was empty. They sat boy-girl, boy-
girl, boy-boy, with an empty seat between the two side by side males. Cecil walked up to the
table and said, “This is Jack, he’d like to join us. Why don’t we all introduce ourselves?”
     They did:
      “David,” he was tall, thin and wiry. Small, round spectacles sat on his nose and his
short black hair was cut as if under a bowl.
     “Caitlin,” who was a tall, plump girl in her mid-twenties. Long blonde hair rose high
above her head and she wore many rings on her hands.
     “Dan,” the voice was deep and melodic. He was short, round and had rosy cheeks.
     “Bella,” the girl said as she snuggled closer to Dan. She looked like the feminine
version of her boyfriend.
     “Timothy … never Tim.” This man looked into his early thirties and was very tall and
very fat.
     “And I’m Phil, we’ll quiz you on this later,” he said and winked at Cecil who had
laughed. This one was tall, slender and very muscular. His hair was receding but he could
not have been older than twenty-nine, yet he wore a very expensive suit. Again Jack thought
of his horrid attire.
     Cecil took the empty seat as Phil reached behind him to a stack of chairs and placed
one between himself and David. Jack sat, reluctantly, curious of the dynamic upon which
he had stumbled and how he might influence it. The group opened their Bible’s to begin
their study, Phil letting Jack read from his, strengthening the voice that said, You will never
belong. But he was here now, the first step in what appeared to be a long road ahead.

   “What’s going on here?” said another man from deeper within the hall.
   Jack did not turn around, but stared into Melanie’s eyes as if he were reading her
mind. “I was just saying good-bye.”
   Trent stepped out from the dark corridor, his form appearing as if it were crafted by
night. “Then do so and leave.”
   Jack walked to stand face to face with Trent. He smiled, and narrowed his eyes.
“You remind me of someone.”
   “Do I?” Trent felt glad that his heart could not race when he was afraid.
                                                                    The Kith – 34 –

    “Have you ever had a true friend, one who read your thoughts because he shared
them?”
    “Before I became a Kith, yes.”
    “Strange how we can be creatures of Pleasure, and only experience that kind of
fellowship as a human.”

    As Jack walked into the café he could not look above the floor. This place was a
shadow of his former life; groups of people were laughing, a couple was on their first date
and yet another was on their last. He wondered on his reasons for being there. Was he
exchanging the smoke-laden clubs for the caffeine-aromatic café’s because he was on a road
to self-improvement, or was he just trying to live a life of perceived self-fulfilment? He
suddenly became very aware that he was blocking the entrance.
    He entered and stood in line. A man strummed guitar, but no words accompanied the
chords. Two cash registers rang in the background as the line moved at a steady pace.
There was a menu made out with chalk, advertising the various items; most of which were
new to jack.
    “What can I get for you?” a young woman asked from behind the counter. She had
long blonde hair and that look of innocence for which Jack so yearned to recapture. He
smiled, ran his fingers through his hair, and shrugged.
    “Coffee, I guess.”
    “What size, light or dark?” her words echoed with impatient mutterings from the line-
up.
    “Uh, medium and light … no, dark.” He threw down a two dollar bill.
    Taking the fresh-brewed cup of coffee from the counter he then walked outside to the
patio. For solitude he chose a table that was at the edge of the rest but still under the
canopy. He sat. Held his mug. And wondered what the Hell he was doing. Was this the life
he sought? One devoid of friends, of anything familiar, of what he recognised as life?
    “Can I join you?” It was Cecil standing beside him with a medium sized cup topped
with whipping cream. She had her purse slung over her shoulder, and wore a white hand
knitted sweater with a long, black skirt. Her hair was tied back in a pony tail and her
lipstick was fresh. But it was her scent that most caught Jack, that of roses. He smiled.
    “Of course you can join me. What brings you here?”
    She smiled wide and could not look at him. Mumbling she started to say, “Just wanted
a cup of Java,” but at the tail end of her words she just shrugged.
    “I’m glad you’re here.” He sipped his drink and tried to hide that it burned his lips. “I
was starting to feel a little alone in the world.”
    “What you need is a hobby. Something to keep you occupied.”
    “And what’s yours?” Jack asked, taking her sudden fit of giggles as a sign that it was
something interesting. He urged, “Come on now, you have to tell me.”
    “I collect stamps.”
    “Huh.” He wasn’t sure if he could feign interest in that, no matter how cute Cecil was.
But when she started laughing he realised she was playing him.
    “I was only kidding. I’m into archery, I started shooting competitively about five years
ago.”
                                                                    The Kith – 35 –

    “Wow. I never would have guessed that. I sort of have a hobby too, I guess.”
    “Not really great with committing, are you?”
    “I’m the kind of guy who can’t even stay on one radio station for the duration of a
song, even if I like it, for fear that a better song may be just down the dial.”
    Cecil grinned. “You’re trying to change the subject.”
    “I thought I just did.”
    “Nice try! Now what’s this hobby of yours?”
    There was a moment while his face turned crimson. He considered, then said,
“Iwritepoetry.”
    “What?”
    He sighed. “I write poetry.” Nothing was said between them so Jack decided to add,
“I’m not coming out of the closet here, I’m a heterosexual guy who happens to write
poetry.”
    She laughed. “I never thought you were gay! Can I see some?”
    “Uhhhh, yeah.” He reached inside his pocket and produced what he’d crafted last
night. Staring at the folded paper he sighed and handed it to her. Cecil opened it carefully
and read it. When she finished there was a pregnant pause and another smile. He said, “I
know it isn’t great, except maybe in a greeting card kind of way, but it’s mine.”
    Cecil read:

“Try”
My heart does not need one more day
To know your love’s the only way
We’ll go this path now hand in hand
We need not fear nor ever now land

The skies around have turned to blue
The sun that shines, shines anew
And though the clouds may come again
Our love will stay long past the end

But if night comes and all turns dark
We need not fear to follow our spark
Our love will lead a way together
The end won’t come, not now nor ever

Fear of hurt so strong in our eyes
Please take my hand, say you’ll try
We know love lasts in so very few
So take this chance, for this be true

    She looked at him, smiling, and whispered, “It’s wonderful Jack.”
    He reached out and caressed her cheek with the back of his fingers. They were both
silent now, each one realising that more was happening than either had considered
                                                                     The Kith – 36 –

possible. Jack sat back in his chair, wishing that his conscience would leave him be to
become one with this moment.

    “Cecil was the closest friend I’d ever had before I became Kith.”
    Trent pretended to stare off the balcony at the bright neon lights. But out the corner of
his eye he watched Jack speak of this woman through stern lips and narrowed eyes. He
wondered what she could have done that was so awful, certainly a broken heart did not
justify his current life.
    Trent considered carefully what to say. “Do you feel the emptiness as well, Jack?”
    “I do.” He raised his right hand and ran it through his hair. As he did so his sleeve fell
to his elbow and he said, “What do you say that you and I recapture that kind of
companionship now that our consciences are at rest?”
    Trent opened his mouth to speak, but suddenly grabbed Jack’s wrist. On it he saw a
band woven from red and black string.
    “Where did you get such a thing?” Trent’s eyes burned.
    Jack turned his wrist to fog and released himself. He stepped into the hallway and
from the din he answered: “I took it from a woman I killed.”
                                                                    The Kith – 37 –


                                 CHAPTER EIIGHT
                                 CHAPTER E GHT
     Melanie shut the door to their quarters, curious of why Trent hadn’t said anything. He
paced in the tiny room, holding his head between his palms and clenching his eyes shut.
He frightened her, and she wondered why he was so upset. She considered asking, but
decided not to. But there was one thing on her mind that she could not ignore.
     “They know who we are, Trent.”
     The Kith said nothing. She scanned the room with hopes of starting a conversation,
and stopped when her eyes landed on the mirror.
     “Trent! You have a reflection!”
     But when he opened his eyes to see it the image disappeared. He grabbed a nearby
chair and threw it into it, shattering the glass. Melanie backed away, stopped only by the
door. Trent’s anger abated when he saw his image in her eyes; a reflection of her fear, not
his soul.
     “What manner of madness have I trapped myself in?” He collapsed onto the bed, the
tail end of his words muffled as he covered his face in his palms.
     Melanie took a step near him, and when he didn’t lash out she took another. He raised
his face from out of his palms, the tears still falling from his chin. He smiled.
     “I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. It’s just … but I….”
     Melanie relaxed, her heart slowed and her muscles melted.
     “They know who we are. They know you are a Christian, and they think I am too.”
She walked to the bed and sat next to him, wrapping one arm around his shoulders and
wiping away the tears with the other. She smiled and gave him a gentle hug.
     “We have to leave.”
     “No. No one knows us.”
     “How can you say that?”
     Trent met her gaze, their face inches away, each feeling the other’s hot breath against
their lips.
     Trent whispered, “Do not question me.”
     Melanie felt a shiver pass through her; as if a Spirit were cast out from the Kith next
to her. Cold sweat perspired on her brow and she had a strange sensation to kiss him. A
quiet voice whispered deep in her mind, not loud enough for her to hear but loud enough
to know what it wanted of her.
     She reached out for his knee, and when he did not back away she caressed her other
hand down his spine. She leaned in to kiss him, and when their lips touched she moved
her hand from his knee to his crotch. But when she put her tongue in his mouth he leapt
away.
     “No, Melanie! I still belong to God.”
     “I’-I’m sorry, I don’t know what came over me.”
     He smiled and turned back to her, closing his eyes and sighing.
     And then he kissed her. Mouth on mouth, tongue against tongue, a sensation like
none Melanie had ever believed possible
                                                                    The Kith – 38 –


    Jack sat inside Naztar’s office, his feet upon the desk and a smile gracing his lips. He
watched his Sage, a Kith nervous for the first time, yet so intent on revenge that he
ignored all other emotions. Who do you hate so much? Jack wondered.
    “I wasn’t sure where Trent came from until today. He is the brother of Keelin, the last
Rogue to attempt conversion.”
    Naztar picked up his son by the throat and slammed him against a wall. Jack did not
see it coming, nor had he any immediate response for such an uncharacteristic action.
The Sage growled, “That is an insinuation you must know, not assume. How can you
think to know the mind of a Christian so well?”
    “Because I tried to be one of them.”

    The room was large and spacious. Walls were adorned with images; renderings of a
long-haired fellow in tattered clothes ministering to people who appeared to be just like
him. Mixed into those scenes were paintings of that same fellow nailed to a cross, yet still
ministering to those who betrayed him. One stood out. It was of this man wearing a crown
of thorns, out of each needle blood dripped. His hands were bound and his face forlorn,
beneath read the caption: “What has God done for me?”
    Jack sat alone at a table large enough to have ten chairs around it. Outside in the
sanctuary music, live musicians whom he’d begun to call friends, played tunes unfamiliar
to him. He sat hunched over the table, his hands clasped to an NIV translation of the Holy
Bible. The music continued, and so long as it did so would his solace.
    There was a voice within him, one he could not hear but knew as “intuition”, that told
him he did not belong here. He was a fraud, he was exactly the thing they preached against.
And once these truth seekers learned of who he was they would shun him. Jack looked at
the pictures of the messianic figure and felt the voice say, “Yes, Him too.” Sighing, Jack
returned his gaze to the book lying before him.
    The music stopped. The first person to enter was Cecil, who smiled when she saw Jack.
Following her was David and Caitlin, Dan and Bella, Timothy and lastly, Phil. Cecil sat
between the latter two men on the opposite side from Jack. Jack was not certain why she
never sat with him when in the company of her friends, but that voice told him this was
further proof that he did not belong here.
    David said, taking out a Bible of his own along with a folder that read: Studies for the
Growing Christian. “Hi Jack. Really good to see you again. How was your week?”
    That voice emerged in his mind again. It told him that this inquiry was an attempt to
discredit him, to prove that he was not Christian enough to be here.
    Jack answered, “My week rocked, eh. You?”
    “I had a lot of studying to do for mid-terms.”
    That voice again: Hear that? A shot because you are not an educated man. Jack sighed and
wondered why everything went silent. He wished he could leave.
    Tim broke the stillness. “Has everyone turned in their forms for camp this weekend?”
    Jack gave Cecil a perplexed look and she said, “Every Thanksgiving weekend we have a
camp for the youth. It’s a lot of fun, you should come.”
    “It costs twenty-five bucks,” Phil added.
                                                                     The Kith – 39 –

    Another shot, Jack thought. Then aloud he said, “I think I can handle that.”
    “Oh,” Tim sounded surprised. “Well, if you want to come I’ll get you a form to fill out.
Remind me after service.”
    Jack wondered what exactly he was getting himself into. It seemed to him that if they
really wanted him to come they would have told him sooner. But they hadn’t, and he
wondered why.

   Naztar let his son go and sat behind his desk. “So kill him, don’t tell me you have
gone soft.”
   “No, Father, I have not.” Jack returned to his chair and kicked his feet upon the desk.
Both Kiths glared at one another, until Naztar focused on the computer before him.
   “Then what is it?”
   “I want to know why he is here.”
   “To avenge his sister.”
   “It is not that way with Christians. There is more, and I want to know what.”

    A long, winding dirt road led from the highway to a football size green field. The road
was narrow, cast over by shadows and had deep tire impressions from past travellers. Some
impressions stayed true, others veered near the edge while many ran off into the ditch. Jack
wondered if he would stay true on his road. Unlike those whom he followed his car was
large and powerful, meant more for a hard, fast life than the practicality from which he
now demanded. He sighed.
    “You are going to love this camp,” Cecil exclaimed from the passenger seat. “We come
here every Thanksgiving weekend, and it’s such a blast.”
    Jack said nothing as he pulled off the road and into the field. He parked in line with all
the other cars, smiled at his passenger and considered his predicament. With all their talk
of acceptance, of unconditional love and freedom of sin through Christ, what would they
do should they be told of everything of his past (including those things he only recently
admitted to himself).
    “I think I maybe want to give my testimony at the fire tonight,” he said, breaking his
silence.
    She gave him that empathetic look and smiled sweetly. “You don’t have to.”
    “I do. I want a life with honesty, one that I never have to be afraid of what you might
learn of me.”
    Reaching out she hugged him and whispered, “You never have to be afraid, Jack.”
    He held her back, ignoring the voice that said this would be their last embrace.

    Jack watched from a distance a bonfire cutting through a seemingly impenetrable
darkness. Red flames flickered from a blue base, sending shards of ashes into the air. Tiny
specs of fire competed high above with the stars, but each one relinquished with a
snapping sound. The Heavens mastered the night with a bright white moon crowded
against the busy stars. Jack’s vision returned to the fire below, where silhouettes of youths
and leaders clambered for warmth.
                                                                     The Kith – 40 –

     “And where do you belong, Jack?” It was that cloaked figure again. “In the Heavens
following blindly or within the flames as a man of his own destiny?”
     Jack did not face the stranger. He stayed fixated on the group of people whom he
wanted so much to call friends.
     The figure said, “If only you belonged, but you do not. The names of those who are
saved are written, you are not among them.”
     “You cannot tempt me.”
     He laughed. “I don’t need to tempt you. All I need is to echo your thoughts, and
remind you of who you are.”
     Jack turned to face this stranger but he was nowhere to be seen. The only sound were
those of crickets and frogs, the only vision was that of the fire that awaited him. He sighed,
pulled his long hair into a pony-tail and walked to the future.
     The flames flickered bright and blinded those around it to their surroundings. Cecil
shared a blanket with two of the teenage girls, and from them sat the rest of the leaders
interspersed with youths. Jack sat across the fire from Cecil, beside Bella and Dan. He
sighed.
     Tim began, “Welcome to the first night of youth camp. After a short study of Mark
7:14-23, we’ll toast marshmallows by this wonderful fire. Let’s all thank Phil for his
craftsmanship.” There was applause. “First let’s pray, then we’ll have a testimony by… ” he
looked quizzical.
     “Jack,” said Cecil.
     “Sorry,” Tim continued without even making eye contact with Jack who’s thoughts
rambled with regrets. Then after a short prayer he said, “Now we can hear the testimony.”
     All eyes were upon him now, all ears waiting to have their questions of him answered.
Jack took a deep breath, looked up to the stars, but could not see them for the flames
before him.
     “My name is Jack Calloway and I grew up in the Core of Winnipeg. My parents
divorced when I was a kid, and my single Mom raised me. When I was fourteen I decided
to live with my Dad, even though he was an abusive alcoholic.” Jack felt his voice cut off
and his heart swell with emotions that he’d forgotten even existed. Tears swelled in his
eyes, purging from his soul anger, hatred and regret. He could not look into anyone’s eyes
as he said, “The first night I was there my Dad got drunk and forced his wife to have sex
with him. She was screaming for him to stop, and rather than do something about it I put
on headphones and blasted my tunes. I let it happen and ran back to live with my Mom
the next day.
     “A year later I was so filled with self-hatred that I began drinking. Becoming my father
was a way of punishing myself for not stopping my Dad that night. I got into a lot of fights
as a way to release my anger, but nothing I did was ever enough. I still don’t think I deserve
redemption.”
     Jack broke down and let the tears flow freely. The people around him were silent, save
for Bella who embraced him and said, “It’s okay.”
     He rose, walked off away from the fire, beneath the stars, against the night. And he did
so alone. Jack stumbled in the darkness until he came behind a deserted cabin. Leaning
against its wall he slid to the sod below. Again the stranger found him: “I tried to warn
                                                                    The Kith – 41 –

you. These Christians know nothing of the secular world except what they read in books or
see in movies. It does not matter if your heart has changed, they will forever see you as
tarnished by their prejudice.”
    “Why can’t you leave me alone?” Jack sobbed.
    “You and I are men cut from the same cloth.”
    “We are nothing alike.”
    “Then where are those others in whose trust you so foolishly believed?”
    Jack looked up but the man was gone. He was in total solitude, but he could hear the
songs of those to whom he’d just poured his heart. The most distinct voice was Cecil’s as
she belted out words of forgiveness and redemption. He wondered what to do.

    Naztar looked away from the screen at his Progeny. He folded his arms in front of his
chest and sighed; his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to see through him.
    “What if he is here to convert us?”
    “Christians do not convert those like us. You taught me that.”
    Naztar leaned a bit in his chair and rubbed the bottom of his chin. “Do you have a
plan?”
    Jack rose and walked to the window. He stared at the planks as though he stared at a
world beyond. He imitated his father by folding his arms across his chest, but instead of a
sigh he growled: “I have had a plan since the moment I heard Keelin scream to him for
help.”



    “Get your blood-slave Trent, we’re going drinking.”
    Trent stood before the stove, stirring a crock-pot of various meats and vegetables. He
glanced over his shoulder at Jack who stood at the door-way, with Tammi clinging to his
waist.
    “I just started cooking.”
    “What’s the matter?” Jack marched to the stove and leaned on it, “Afraid I’ll see what
a lush you are?”
    Jack brushed his hand through his hair, and as his sleeve fell down his forearm
Keelin’s band caught Trent’s eye. The Kith cook tightened his grip on the ladle and said,
“Give us awhile to get ready.”
    Jack grinned.

    Melanie slumped into her cushioned chair and stared at her reflection in the mirror.
Images flashed into her mind from the night before, but they were not in chronological
order. It were as if her memory had been diced and mixed in a bowl, and it confused her.
    She remembered the first time Matt touched her. She’d felt apprehensive, unsure if
she really wanted it. He’d told her that her feelings were a product of Society, and that
she should have free will to make her own choice. Their souls belonged to no one but
themselves, and therefore good and evil existed only in the boundary of their hearts. And
how bad could something be that felt so good?
                                                                   The Kith – 42 –

    Trent’s hands on her had transformed her veins to wires, and the electricity his touch
generated was too high a voltage for them. He had felt so right and yet had stopped
himself. His good and evil, according to Matt’s logic, was brainwashing by Society. But
Trent cared for his principles so much that he’d die for them. Whereas Matt … she’d
never forgive the bastard for cheating on her.
    Right, wrong, good, evil … what were they to her? Was it the deed that was wrong,
or the person with whom she had shared it? She sighed, and buried her face in her palms.
    Trent burst through the door from the common room. Melanie looked up at him, saw
he carried a bowl of piping hot stew, and sat back in her chair.
    He threw the bowl onto the bureau, oblivious that it spilled. “Eat up and get dressed.
We’re going out.”
    He had that same tone in his voice and glint in his eye as when he’d seen Jack’s ring.
She opened her mouth to speak but chose not to when he glared at her. Grabbing the
spoon she dumped some into her mouth, but spit it out.
    “Ouch!” she cried and stood.
    Trent grabbed the bowl and threw it into the trash. “We have no time for that. Just get
ready.” He walked to her closet, sifted through her clothes, and picked out a see-through
dress. “Wear this with your black underwear and heels. Do your hair frizzy and wild….”
    “Okay, Trent, I got it, you want me to look sexy. Just where are we going?”
    He marched to the chair that she’d been sitting in, moved it to a wall, and sat facing
her. “To a night club. Jack wants us to get drunk with him.”
    “You’ve got to pretend to be wasted? Have you ever been?” She forced a smile, but
the edges of her lips fought against it.
    Trent breathed hard and clenched his fists. His eyes glossed over with a crimson
shield, and his eye-teeth turned into fangs. “Just get ready,” he snarled.



    Thicker even than the smoky air was the beat from the music cast out by multiple
speakers set strategically around the room. Melanie leaned against a gold railing that
made up the edge of the wet-bar, donning the garb Trent had demanded she wear. She
had also put on black lipstick and eyeliner, and had painted her nails with black. She
swayed her hips to the beat of the music.
    Trent stood on her right, arms crossed over his chest, and eyes panning the crowded
room as an animal surveying its territory. The club, ironically named “Blood
Transfusion,” was hot but her Kith “Sage” wore his long trench coat, dress shirt, Jeans,
and boots.
    Tammi had her arms crossed over her chest as well, but it seemed more a gesture to
hide her body than to display dominance. She wore a tight black miniskirt, bra and spiked
heels; obviously a command from her “commander.” As for Jack, he wore an outdated
Ozzy T-shirt and ripped Jeans. As was the entire club, they were all clad in black.
    The waitress came around again with shooters: Blood Clot, Artery, and Anaemia. But
Melanie declined. She’d already had more than enough and the last thing she wanted was
to get loose in the tongue.
                                                                    The Kith – 43 –

   Jack stopped the barmaid and held up four fingers, pointing at the Blood Clots.
Melanie shivered from the thought of the strange texture those had, and glanced at Trent
when Jack put two in front of her.
   “Just like when we were mortal, isn’t it?”

     Jack sat at his usual table on the café patio. Rain poured from the grey sky but the
moist air was warm. Unlike the covered sky the white loose leaf before Jack remained
blank. His mind raced with thoughts, so many that he could not settle on one. He reached
for the steaming cup of Java, one for which he now need only say “the regular” to get, and
brought it to his lips.
     He considered for a moment his friendship with Cecil. Their bond was based on truth;
he had nothing to hide from her because he did not hide anything from her. Then he
thought of Audra, a friendship based on mutual blindness. They had nothing to hide
because they shared nothing; each one afraid of the other seeing into their soul.
     Jack picked up his pen and scrawled a few words onto paper. As he did so he wondered
why his conscience relaxed when he was with Audra but fought when he was with Cecil.
Could it be that he does not belong in the house of God, did his presence risk corrupting
them all? Would they elevate him or would he drag them down?
     “So this is what you’ve been up to,” Audra said as she walked from the downpour to sit
across from Jack.
     “Did I welcome you? There’s plenty of empty seats inside.”
     Audra stared at him with her lips pursed in a pout. Her long dark hair was wet and
clingy against her round face and her nose was crinkled. Taking out a smoke she mumbled,
“Guess I don’t have to ask if you’ve been avoiding me.” Then for him to hear: “I came to
tell you it’s Cindy’s birthday at the Puzzle.”
     “Thanks. Message delivered.” Jack never looked away from the lined paper before him.
     Audra stood and turned to leave. But facing Jack she said, “Are all your holy roller
friends as judgmental as you?”
     Jack looked up, closed his eyes and sighed. “Sorry. I guess when you never called, well,
it hurt me.”
     “You could have called.”
     “I’ve been going through something.”
     She sat again. “Care to talk?”
     Jack folded his binder and capped his pen. “Since when did we ever talk about
anything?”
     “Piss off Jack! I came here because I thought we were friends, but if you’ve become too
good for me then to Hell with you!”
     She stormed off leaving Jack speechless to stare after her. Resting his elbows on the
table he leaned his head into his palms and wondered what was becoming of his life.



    Music. Drums pounding, guitars wailing and a baritone howl tying the two together.
Jack cranked the volume up a notch and walked to the window. The sky was only a shade
                                                                       The Kith – 44 –

darker than his room, but outside a light rain that had only begun illuminated the ground.
Jack pressed his palm against the pane, sighed and grit his teeth. The world outside
manifested what was his life: the darkness which rained its frozen mourning insulated the
life that grew upon the Earth, just as hatred protected what was inside Jack. He wondered
how long it would take before the frost suffocated the spirit rather than sheltered it.
     Another scream, but this time it was not from the music. This one was more powerful
than the Heavy Metal. Jack gave the volume another crank. Somewhere amidst the song a
phone rang, and one ring before the machine would have picked up Jack grabbed the
receiver. He sighed again.
     “Hello?”
     “Jack?” a man screamed over the music from his end of the line.
     “Yeah. Todd? Where are you?”
     “At the Puzzle … turn down your tunes man, I can hardly hear you.”
     Jack said nothing. Then he whispered, “Can’t.”
     “What? Is something happening?”
     Jack turned down the music and a shouting rose from the floor below. “The couple
below me are fighting again.”
     “Shit. Look, we’re all at the Puzzle, why don’t you come down?”
     “Can’t.”
     “Why, you aren’t allowed to have friends outside your Church?”
     “No, I’m supposed to meet Cecil. You sound like Audra.”
     “She’s here.”
     “Oh.”
     “I’ll grab a table away from her. Come on man, you’re not doing anything wrong just hangin’
out.”
     “I’ll be there. Right after I call Cecil.”
     “Ask her to come.”
     “I’m not telling her where I’m going. I’ll say I’m going to the café and need to be
alone.”
     Jack said good-bye and placed the handset onto the cradle. The noise from the couple
below grew louder, making Jack wish he could afford a home with thicker walls. He picked
up the receiver and considered what he was about to do. He was about to consciously lie to
someone with whom he had shared a total honesty.
     Bringing the phone to his ear Jack dialled and waited.
     “Hello?” Cecil said from the other end.
     “Hey, it’s Jack. Listen, I can’t make it tonight. Let’s do this tomorrow, okay?”
     “Okay, where are you going?”
     “Just out.”
     “Where?”
     “Would you get off my case? Jesus, you’d think I was the fallen angel himself!”
     “That was unnecessary, and don’t take the Lord’s name in vain!”
     “Relax! I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”
     “Maybe it would be easier on you if you just never called!”
                                                                    The Kith – 45 –

    “What?”
    Jack slammed down the phone and cursed under his breath. A woman started hollering
from below as he gathered his coat, keys and wallet. Leaving the apartment he walked
down the hall and ran down the stairs to the first floor. The man who lived below him was
leaving also and tried bumping Jack out of the way to get to the door first. Jack grabbed
him and slammed him against the wall.
    “Buddy, you may pick on your wife but you’d best think twice with me.”
    “Fuck you,” the man said and punched Jack in the face.
    “That all you got?” Jack hit and hit hard. Twice in the jaw, once in the gut. The man
went down.
    Filled with rage Jack stormed from the building.

   He glared at her, the crimson still locked where an icy blue had once reigned.
   She grabbed them, shot them down, and swayed. Jack walked around her to stand
before her Sage.
   “How about you Trent? Are you ready for a drink.”

          There was one star in the sky whose brightness masked all others. A grey swirl of
cloud covered much of the sky, save for an island of black where that lone star shone.
Below the ether the air was calm, yet saturated with the scent of Columbia. A café, hidden
within the midst of retail outlets, grocers and a movie complex, acted like a magnet with its
aroma as its pulling force. Tables, overstuffed chairs and couches filled within and without
onto a patio for the overflow. Cecil sat alone at the table where she often found Jack
reading. The large cup of coffee, half drank, was on the table before her. A muffin lay
untouched beside it.
     “Did you think he’d change?” a deep voice said from behind.
     Cecil did not turn. She stayed focused on the mug, the table, and the empty chair. A
tall, slender but well-muscled man walked around to the vacant seat. Pulling it back he
tossed his long, dark hair away from his eyes with one hand. Cecil immediately grabbed the
chair with her foot and yanked it back flush with the table.
     She growled, “It’s taken.”
     “By who? By Jack?”
     Cecil could not meet the dark gaze that studied her.
     He forced the chair free and sat. “I’m Todd. Jack’s best friend.”
     “If you are, then why not encourage him? He’s becoming such a great person!”
     “I’ve news for you lady, to some he has always been a great person. And not one of
anyone’s making.”
     “You make it sound like we’re manipulating him.”
     “Aren’t you? Will you ever see beyond his past? Tell me you’re not afraid that his past
won’t become his present?”
     “Why are you doing this?”
     “Because Jack is losing the people who accept him for who he is, and he’s gaining
friends who accept him in spite of who he was.”
     “You don’t get it.”
                                                                     The Kith – 46 –

    “No? Then why are you here? Where is it that you think Jack is, and why can’t you trust
him there?”
    Cecil opened her mouth to speak in her defence but Todd rose. She finally looked up
into his eyes and saw by his smile that he was mocking her. As he walked away an intense
dislike grew in her heart, but it was not for him. It was for the mistrust she felt for Jack.

   Trent stared at the glasses before him. He listened to the multitude of Voices in his
mind until they chorused into one. Finally he said, “I am.”
   “Then follow me.”
   Jack grabbed Tammi and marched to the shooter bar. Melanie felt Trent grab her arm
and pull her to follow, and she wondered how he planned to fake a blood-drink. The evil
Kith spoke to the bartender and handed him some money. The bartender pressed a button
beneath his counter, and a door swung open on the wall. The four of them filed inside.

    Jack stood outside the building for a moment longer. Neon lights from a sign that read
“Puzzle” pierced the night with a myriad of colours: red, yellow, and green. This shroud
shone over the lone man who stood beneath it. The doorway, innocent enough, was the
entrance to the Pandora’s box where he would find a dream. An apparition far removed
from Heaven. His leather jacket was unzipped halfway, a forest-green dress shirt peeked
from beneath, and blue jeans hugged his torso. He tucked his bare hands into shallow
pockets as the wind tossed about his long brown hair. The cold wrapped him in an icy
embrace, and when he sighed that embrace grew tighter.
    Jack took a step forward, followed by another and another. His shoes made a hollow
sound against the night, but not nearly as hollow as the thump of his heart. He reached
out for the door handle, shuddered from tremors the music inside made, and suddenly
words consumed his thoughts:

As time goes on we do forget
Love we lost; our every regret
Our shattered dreams, our broken hearts
The endless nights we spent apart

    Jack opened the door, but before he entered a voice said from behind: “Such sorrow
for a man seeking Pleasure.”
    Jack glanced over his shoulder and saw a tall man clad in a black trench coat. “Do I
know you?”
    The stranger crossed his arms. He grinned, a deep chuckle rising from his diaphragm,
and as his eyes narrowed Jack had the distinct feeling he was being sized up for dinner. The
man clad in black asked, “Tell me what you desire, and I will deliver that to you.”
    “And who are you, The Prince of Darkness? If I sell you my soul will you make all my
dreams come true?”
    “Precisely.”
    “Holy shit this world is full of freaks.” Jack flipped him his middle finger, added: “Fuck
you man,” and entered. He forced his way against the music, into the smoky darkness,
                                                                     The Kith – 47 –

where projectors cast nonsensical images of varying colours and shapes against the walls.
Those strange forms, twisting against their black screen, seemingly gave embodiment to the
turmoil in his soul. Lava lamps suspended from rafters twisted and people scattered about
the almost barren interior crowded against a single counter. They fought against one
another for the attention of whoever stood behind it, and that person offered himself to
whomever asked. And that was not at all unlike Jack’s dream.
    He spied his friends tucked against a corner and, as he pushed his way through the
crowd toward them, Jack glanced at the dance floor. He saw Cindy, a crowd of strange
men, and … her. His heart pounded against his chest in time with the music. He closed
his eyes to try and regain control over his breathing that had suddenly become a chore, but
when he opened them she was still there. His only consolation was that she had not
noticed him. He continued toward his friends.

But if time passes and you still remember
The love you shared with no surrender
What would you do should I come by
Could you love again; would it be truth or lie?

    “Hey,” Jack grunted as he sat next to Todd, the tallest of his companions.
    “We are going to have fun tonight!” Todd never looked at his friend, he only nodded,
as was the customary greeting in these establishments, and glanced toward the dance floor.
Jack’s eyes followed his friend’s vision; again he saw her. She was wearing a tight body suit
that advertised her slender figure. Her nails were painted a solid black and her hair was
done up in pig-tails. She moved in such a way that the men around her were ensnared as if
by enchantment, just as Jack was. He looked at his watch, sighed, and cursed under his
breath.
    “I said,” Todd spoke louder, “we are going to have fun tonight!” but when he looked at
his friend and saw the bulge over his eye he muttered, “What the hell happened?”
    “Where are the others?” Jack’s eyes never left her; she still had not noticed him. Todd
shook his head and pointed to another table at the other end of the room. Without a word
Jack made his way there, where three people sat along a cushioned bench that rimmed a
“U” shaped booth. Two girls smiled and waved, and the lone male just nodded. Jack did
not sit.
    “Hey, where’s the birthday girl?”
    “Cindy’s dancing. Everybody’s on the floor.”
    “I know. I saw … everyone … else.” He hoped the tone in his voice didn’t give away
his emotions.
    “Jack!” a voice squealed from behind, and he knew it was she.

Could you look in my eyes and see my soul
Could you see past the surface beneath the role
Into a heart which kindness crafted
For a love not even time outlasted
                                                                    The Kith – 48 –

    Jack painted on a smile and was suddenly thankful for the dark, smoky atmosphere.
Blood burned in his cheeks and the ends of his lips had begun to quiver. He looked at his
watch again and wondered just how short he could make this appearance.
    “Hey Audra. Where’s the birthday girl?”
    “Still dancing.” Audra squeezed up next to him, closed her eyes and swayed to the
music. Whether she hadn’t noticed his bruise or simply didn’t care Jack wasn’t certain.
    “I see you’ve been drinking.” Jack wanted to move away from her. It was a mistake to
be this close, to feel her warmth against him, warmth that masked the cold within.
    “So where’s Cecil?” Her voice sounded indifferent, so much so that Jack had to look at
her, into her grin to remind himself that she didn’t give a damn. When he met her brown
eyes he paused; it was as if they were magical balls that transfixed whatever dared meet
them, but when she smiled she did so as if to release him. Jack wondered why she asked,
why she pretended to care, and why she included him in this game.
    “She’s not coming.” Jack paused as Audra pressed closer to him. Tell her why, he
thought. But he only said, “She … has to work.”
    “Oh. That’s too bad.” Her lips were next to his ear and she had wrapped her arm
around his. Jack wished he could push her away, wished he could tell her he was not
entrapped by her charm, but most of all he wished he could give in to her freely. And that
when she gave in to him she did so only with him. Jack was suddenly glad Cecil hadn’t
come, and shame flushed into him. Shame for not having the resolve to stay away from
Audra, and for wanting her next to him so badly. But mostly his shame was derived from
knowing he had to give in to her, for as much as it killed him to have her this near it would
be worse to watch her with someone else.
    “I take it you’re in need of a leaning post tonight?”
     Audra giggled and leaned her head against his shoulder. “I’m going to get a drink, you
coming?”
    Jack didn’t answer. Her hands had moved onto his in such a way that it could have
been unintentional, but he knew it wasn’t. The tips of her fingers rested upon his
knuckles, her palm against the back of his hand. He fought against this. To him having her
fingers interlock with his was like inserting a key into a lock, one whose portal held back
such an abundance of emotion it would be like setting free water from a dam. To her,
taking his hands was just advancement in the game to Level Two, a bond without emotion.
A game whose prize was control. He cursed himself as he opened his fingers and accepted
her embrace.

What can I do, to make you see
Just how much, you mean to me
If I took your hand, and held you tight
Would this in your heart be wrong or right?

    Jack rose from the booth, hand in hand with Audra. She leaned on him hard, and
stumbled a bit as she walked. He caught her from falling and bumping into other patrons
as he escorted her to the bartender. Audra released him and leaned against the bar. She
asked, “Am I buying you one?”
                                                                   The Kith – 49 –

    A bottle on the shelf caught Jack’s attention. Not because of what it held, nor because
it was Audra’s favourite, but because it caught his reflection. It wasn’t a proud man who
stared through the glass, but one without self-respect. One that gave in to the pleasure of
the moment, and ignored the pain that the rest of Time offered. He felt her finger beneath
his chin beckoning him to look at her; her skin was warm against his complexion. Slowly
he turned to face her, forcing a smile from his quivering lips, and nodded.
    “Good,” she answered. And to the bartender: “Two Zambooka.”
    As the shots were placed on the counter Jack felt a hand on his shoulder. As he turned
he heard Todd shout over the music, “Come on man, doesn’t it give you peace to bed the
chicks and drink the booze?”
    Jack pushed him away, and glanced at Audra through the corner of his eye. She
appeared not to have heard, although the ends of her lips curled as if she fought a smile.
Jack glared at Todd. “It’s my life, okay?”
    “Cecil doesn’t give a damn about you. All you ever were was the heathen who needed
saving. What do you see in her?”
    “We’re friends.”
    “Are you?”
    “You don’t understand.”
    “You’re right, I don’t.”
    Jack said nothing and turned back to Audra. Todd yelled, “Maybe you should think
about who your friends are!”
    As Jack leaned on the counter Audra handed him a shot glass. She smiled, leaned on
him and said, “Bottoms up!”
    “Yeah, bottoms up.” Jack slammed the liquid down and looked deep into Audra’s eyes.
She laughed, loudly over the music, and pushed him away. Jack watched her as she grabbed
the first guy nearby, walked him to the dance floor and ground her hips against his in time
to the music.
    “What the fuck am I doing?” Jack muttered. Then to the bartender, “A coke. Just a
coke.”
    “Tell me what it is you want to do, and I’ll make that dream come true.”
    Jack turned and saw the stranger from outside. “Who the fuck are you, and why the
hell are you talking to me? You a faggot?”
    “Perhaps I am the Prince of Darkness. What price would you put on your soul?” On
the word price he paid for the drink just then placed on the counter.
    “The whole world has gone crazy,” Jack whispered. He sighed, shoved the stranger and
grabbed the drink. He walked to his table.
    “You don’t know when to say good-bye, do you?”
    Audra’s voice stopped him cold. Jack had his one hand grasped on his beverage and his
other tense by his side. He didn’t turn when he asked, “What difference would it make if I
did say goodbye?”
    Audra didn’t answer. Jack turned and saw by her misty eyes that there was no more
playfulness between them. He whispered, “Careful. When you look at me like that, I
almost think you care.”
                                                                    The Kith – 50 –

    “I do Jack.” Another pause, then softly she added, “But I can’t when you go all holy
roller with me?”
    “You can go Holy Roller with me.”
    Audra placed her hand on her hips and her eyes turned cold. “Can’t you see you’re just
a project to them?”
    “Careful. You’re doing it again.”
    “Doing what?”
    Jack sighed, and said softly, “Pushing me away.”
    Audra laughed. “Big deal. To me you’re just another guy.”
    “Just another guy, huh?”
    “That’s right. After you’re gone, I’ll just sit with one of the other men. It makes no
difference to me who it is.”
    Jack closed his eyes and breathed hard. When he again looked upon the girl before
him, he didn’t know if he saw the friend he’d developed a crush on or the vixen who had
broken his heart. He reached out and caressed her cheek, but when she didn’t respond he
took his hand away.
    “I really hope you’re being honest with yourself.”
    “You’re the one who’s not being honest.”
    “If you let me leave, then you let go of me forever.”
    “And what’s so special that I should want you?”
    Jack leaned so he could whisper into her ear: “The thing that makes me different is that
I loved you as a friend first.” He stepped away and looked into her glossy eyes. Her lips
parted but before she could speak he said, “I guess you’re right. You don’t feel the same.”
    And then he left, into the cold, alone. With only the song that echoed in his mind for
company:

When all is lost, and no one’s near
We’ll look at our world, an empty sphere
The time we wasted, with pain and sorrow
Wish we’d lived for now, with no tomorrow

    “I waited at the café. Todd came by,” the voice was Cecil’s, not Audra’s.
    “Oh.” Jack did not turn to face the woman behind him. Instead he focused on the
music, the darkness and the empty shot glasses before him. Four empty chairs surrounded
the round table, each one adorned with jackets and purses.
    She spoke again, “I didn’t want to believe you were here.”
    “Then why’d you come?” Jack leaned forward, his hand stretching over the shot glasses.
He wrapped his fingers around an octagonal shaped glass filled with cola. Slowly he
brought it to his lips, but before sipping from it he said, “You came because you knew I
was here, and you’re speaking to me because you think I’ve fallen.”
    Just then the music changed. The thump thump of the dance music faded into a soft,
angelic voice singing of heartbreak. Beneath the tunes a hiss accompanied smoke pouring
onto the dance floor. The area was paired with lovers, each holding the other as if to hold
together their shattered emotions. Jack sighed, sipped his drink and stood. He still did not
                                                                     The Kith – 51 –

turn to her. His back faced the tears that had begun to stream down her cheeks. Cecil
reached out with her hand but froze inched from Jack’s shoulder. The feeling was not
unlike standing next to a bonfire, Jack’s tense muscles much like the flickering flames. Her
mouth opened but there was nothing to say. Relaxing her hand back by her side Cecil
sighed, turned and started to walk away.
    Jack said, “You never believed in me.”
    She looked over her shoulder and saw him facing her. He looked like James Dean clad
in a black leather jacket, white T-shirt and blue jeans. His shoulders slumped to the right
and his left thumb was hooked into his pocket. Grease held his hair slicked back into a
pony tail, and his lips were pursed. His voice quivered when he said, “All your talk of
friendship and respect, yet you never had any for me.”
    “I respected you. We were friends.” Cecil tried to take a step forward but it was as if a
wall were erected between them. A wall through which they could see, hear and speak but
not pass. The song ended and another melody began in its place.
    Jack stepped forward, destroying the spiritual barrier. He walked up to Cecil, reached
out for her cheek but stopped when she flinched. Slowly he brought the backside of his
fingers up to caress her cheek. Then he traced her lips with his thumb.
    “To you I will never be anything but the man I once was. And since he no longer exists,
to you neither do I.”
    The song changed. The beat was fast. Jack and Cecil stared at one another in silence.
Jack sighed and walked out the exit.

    A red lamp shed an eerie glow over black painted walls. Leather couches scattered
about the area were occupied with men and women entangled with each other in various
positions, and moans echoed in the smoky air. She saw Jack point to two empty couches,
and Tammi climb onto one. She glanced at Trent who nudged her toward one, and
reluctantly she climbed on. She looked over at her friend who had taken off her skirt, and
then at Jack who had his head between her legs.
    Trent mounted her, his crimson eyes boring through her light blue. Ones. She wished
the room would stop spinning, even lying down it seemed as if she might fall a thousand
feet.
    “Please don’t bite me,” she whispered.
    “Kiths don’t bite blood-slaves.”
    “Then how do they,” she felt his cold hand slip inside her, “oh no…”
    “Do you want Pleasure, Melanie? Invite me to you.”
    “I don’t understand,” she could hear Tammi’s groans echoing above the others, “I
thought you brought me here so you wouldn’t have to do this.”
    “Invite me to you…”
    “I thought Christ didn’t allow this…”
    Trent lashed out and grabbed her neck. The room stopped spinning and she stared
into her Sage’s eyes, seeing in them the fires of Hell.
    He growled, “You will never speak that name to me again.”
                                                                   The Kith – 52 –


                                 CHAPTER NIINE
                                 CHAPTER N NE
    Melanie heard the light knock again. Her head pounded and her throat burned, but all
that had happened was but a blur. Beside her lay Trent, asleep with the slumber of the
dead. She wished she could have chuckled at her choice of words, but instead she desired
to make it true. The knock came again, this time louder.
    Melanie remembered how she’d felt when she’d caught Matt with Carol, and wished
she felt even half as good about the Kith. As the drunkenness washed away and the
hangover began, she recalled how she and Trent had fucked. Not made love, not even had
sex. They had fucked. She invited him to her, his strange darkness exciting her, and
bringing out a part of her she wished she’d never known.
    One that took Pleasure over virtue.
    You would have made a great Kith, she’d heard a Voice say.
    The knocked banged this time. Should I answer it? She wondered.
    She pulled off her covers and swung her legs over the side of the bed, flinching when
her bare feet met the icy floor. Biting her lip she wondered who could be knocking, and
considered waking Trent. She glanced at the clock and saw that it was a little after one
PM.
    She slipped into a pair of Jeans and a T-shirt, sliding her feet inside fuzzy slippers.
Taking one more look at Trent she decided not to wake him, and opening the door she
saw Jack and Tammi.
    “Hi,” Melanie said, squinting to ward off the light from the hallway.
    Tammi looked at her feet and forced a smile from her trembling lips. She mouthed
“Hello,” but no sound came from her. Jack stepped inside.

    Jack walked the street, hands tucked into deep pockets, with no idea where he was
going. He heard Cecil yell for him, but he was far enough down the dark alley that she
would not find him. He did not suspect that she would look long before going home. A
force tugged on him to return to the Puzzle, to give into Audra and surrender to her game
of seduction. Jack stopped, and as a blue fog swirled about him he cursed the darkness.
    Then he heard the stranger say from behind, “Such hatred can make you weak, or the
most powerful man alive. Which will you choose?”
    “What the fuck,” Jack whispered, as he turned to face … nothing. An empty street
covered by fresh snowfall, disturbed only by his own footsteps, lay behind him. A strange
bluish mist coated the snow, and a bright moon burned through the thick overcast sky.
Jack shook his head and continued to walk, but after taking only a few steps he stopped.
    “Where the fuck am I going?” he mumbled. Not Todd’s; not back to the club.
Suddenly a strong, Northerly wind struck, seemingly pushing him toward an alley. The
mist was undisturbed by the air. Jack looked down the lane and saw the cloaked figure.

    “Where is your Sage?” he asked.
    Melanie stepped aside and stumbled. Trent stirred and sat up. “What is the meaning
of this?”
    Jack clicked on the light and glanced at the busted mirror. He smiled.
                                                                   The Kith – 53 –

    “Once a month we have a ‘switch,’” the evil Kith strolled to Melanie, and caressing
beneath her chin he said, “and since we are neighbours it is us who will trade.”
    Melanie looked hard at Trent, unsure of what Jack meant . She had her suspicions,
but prayed it was not what raced through her mind. Trent stood and walked to Jack. The
two Kiths looked strangely similar, as if related somehow, especially in their eyes.
    Trent asked, “What do you mean by ‘trade?’”
    “I mean for one night you take my blood-slave, and I take yours. It is the way of the
Dark.”
    “And if I refuse?”
    “Then your Forever ends.”
    Melanie gasped, and hoped neither Kith heard. I know the risks, she had said. Just
now realising that she never really did. She met Trent’s eyes and saw in them sadness, a
disappointment that failure had come so soon. Surely he wasn’t taken so much by
vengeance that he would condone this act?
    But when Jack brushed his wavy hair away from his eyes, as if to purposefully
display Keelin’s wristband, she heard Trent say:
    “Fine. But no harm had better come to her.”
Melanie’s heart stopped. She looked at Tammi who still stared at the floor, at Trent who
glared at Jack, and lastly at Jack himself. He smiled and held his hand out to her.
    “Coming?”


    Trent watched Melanie leave with Jack. She glanced at him before shutting the door,
a tear from her eye a plea for help. He ignored it and instead focused on the Voice within
his mind.
    You belong to me. You have always belonged to me. Trent nodded and clenched his
hands. I will grant you vengeance.
    He closed his eyes and turned around, opening them to look upon the frail girl who
sat on his bed. She spread her legs open and slid off her red spandex, Her body shivered
as she slipped off the T-shirt she wore, but when she started to unclasp her bra Trent
stopped her.
    He gently grabbed her wrists with one hand and brought her face to look at him by
caressing her chin. The icy blue in his eyes melted away, leaving them in strands of tears.
He suddenly remembered how he’d felt when Billy Bender beat him up, and of his anger
when Jen was raped.
    “He did this to you?” Trent asked, each one of his tears landing on a bruise scattered
throughout the girl’s body.
    She nodded.
    Trent kneeled before her and placed his hands on her knees. She looked away and
shut her eyes, but when he closed her legs and lifted her spandex to cover them she
looked at him with a tear caught in an eyelash.
    “I’m sorry,” he whispered.
    “I don’t understand. Jack said I had to give myself to you.”
    Trent rose and turned his back to her. His shoulders slumped and he sighed. “No,
Tammi, you don’t.”
    “Are you going to hit me?”
                                                                   The Kith – 54 –

   Trent turned back to her and saw that she had begun to weep. He walked to the bed
and sat. “No, I will not lay a hand upon you.”
   “But when Jack doesn’t get enough blood he….”
   “He is a part of the Dark, I am not,” the Kith rose, walking to stand before the broken
mirror, “Or am I? Am I saved by Christ’s blood, or damned by man’s?”
   “You’re a Christian? How can a Kith….”
   “Be anything but evil? It is by the very nature of our evil that makes us need Christ so
much. But can I be forgiven after my sin? I don’t expect you to understand.”
   “I do, or at least I once did. Until God deserted me, too.”
   Trent listened to her voice crack, and smiled. Looking upward at the ceiling he said,
“Tammi, He never deserted us. God sent me here to find a lost sheep.”
   “Was it me?”
   “It was us. It was us!”
   “How?”
   Trent met her gaze and embraced her. “ By the part of Him that stayed in you.”
                                                                     The Kith – 55 –


                                   CHAPTER TEN
                                   CHAPTER TEN

    Jack shut the door to his chambers and Melanie stood facing Tammi’s bureau mirror
with her back to him. She wrapped her arms around herself, massaging the goose-bumps
on her flesh. She wondered which she preferred, to partake in the blood-drink or to be
killed? Staring into the mirror she scanned the reflection, pretending that, as in the
mirror, she was alone.
    She cringed when Jack brushed his hand through her hair.
    He slid one arm around her waist and gently turned her to him with his other. He
pressed her close and backed her against the bureau, pushing his hard flesh against her.
She couldn’t look at him, and when he started kissing her neck she closed her eyes.
    She tried to stall by keeping him talking. “How did you become a Kith?”

     Audra sat in the booth, leaning against a guy she had just met, laughing at everything
he said. Cindy and her boyfriend were locked together at the tongue, and as the alcohol in
Audra made the room spin she suddenly found herself kissing the man who had been a
stranger only moments earlier.
     Music swarmed around them; over her back, through her hair, across her breasts.
Audra pressed herself closer to the stranger and straddled one of his legs. Closing her
thighs tighter she rocked against his thigh while caressing his back. A sober part of her
inquired as to how far she would take this game, but what stopped her was a voice: “And
aren’t we a cosy pair?”
     Audra opened her eyes and broke the liplock with the stranger. He had one hand up
her shirt and his other on her thigh. But what stole her attention was Jack who sat perched
upon the bench, hovering over them like a vulture. She remembered seeing him earlier in
the evening, and felt satisfaction that he had fallen victim to her game. She also noticed
how different he appeared. His hair was wet and slicked back. His eyes were bright and
lively. And the bruise on his cheek had healed. But that was of no importance.
     “Have you come to play my game?”
     “Play your game?” Jack laughed and Audra thought it was a different person who was
using Jack’s body like a dummy. He said, “I have come to win it.”
     “Oh really?” Audra said as she climbed off her partner. But the man she was with
grabbed her back to him and glared at Jack. “Get the fuck lost,” he shouted.
     Jack laughed again. It was then that Audra fully met his gaze, and realised that this was
not the person she had known as “Jack”. This was a stranger; this man was dangerous.
     And as a gale of wind rose from within that laughter all entrances blew closed. The
music stopped. The lights came up. And the last thing these patrons would ever hear again
was a grating voice say, seemingly coming from Jack’s aura and not the man himself:
     “And now the game truly begins.”

    He whispered, “Why are you so afraid? Doesn’t Trent give you Pleasure when he
takes your blood?”
                                                                     The Kith – 56 –

    Jack slipped his hand between them and unbuttoned her jeans. As he unzipped them
he said, “Is it because you have never given him blood?”
    Melanie bit her lip and hopped onto the bureau. Her body trembled and she perspired,
but as much as she didn’t want this more so did she not wish to die. Jack slid off his pants
and she wrapped her legs around his waist. He reached beneath her shirt and she kissed
him, cringing as she felt his fangs grow. He pulled off her panties and massaged her, but
he did not penetrate. He stopped kissing her and met her eye to eye.
    A tear fell from her and she said, “You can’t – it’s that time of the month.”
    Jack smiled and, as he brought his face between her thighs, he said, “I know.”
    Melanie closed her eyes and ground her teeth. She felt the Kith’s hot breath and
heard, “Touch her and I’ll end your Forever,” but the voice was not Jack’s.
    Trent stood in the doorway, clad in his black trench coat. He had his hands tucked in
his pockets and his shoulders were tight. His eyebrows hung low over two fiery eyes, and
beneath his pursed lips he locked his teeth.
    Jack stood, kissed Melanie on the lips, and faced Trent. “Has the Christian come to
die?”
    When Trent stepped into the room Melanie noticed that Tammi cowered behind him.
Jack lashed out with one hand and grabbed Melanie’s throat, pushing his index finger and
thumb beneath her jaw bone. She pulled on his wrist but was unable to budge him.
Candle-light flickered in Trent’s long, pointed teeth. That same glow burned in Jack’s
eyes. Melanie started to choke.
    Trent said, “I will not betray God, Jack. I will not fight you.”
    Jack held out his hand to the girl that hid behind the Christian. “Come to me, Tammi.
Show this follower who your god is.”
    Tammi stepped around Trent and when the Kith touched her shoulder she turned to
him. A smile crossed her lips, followed by a tear that ran down her cheek. With small
steps she walked to Jack. The evil Kith smiled.
    “I don’t know what you hoped to gain, Christian, but whatever it was, you lost. Your
kind never win.”

    “Thought you had a class,” a voice said from behind.
    Cecil kneeled on the wet sod where, before her, a marker read: “Jack Calloway. 1968-
1988. A Victim of the Puzzle Slaughter”. There were no flowers save the ones she’d
planted, nor had the dirt been disturbed except by her footsteps. The only companion was
the clouds that always shed as if to hide the tears with rain and her sobs with its patter. So
when the man had come it was no wonder she jumped from surprise. But she did not turn
to see who it was.
    “I’m taking time off to grieve.”
    “Grieve?” His voice sounded closer, and familiar. Even over the water that fell Cecil
could hear him walk beside her. He knelt and said, “There is a fable of two men walking
through the woods. When a bear attacks them, the thinner one runs and climbs a tree. The
larger one, unable to perform such a feat, falls to the ground and plays dead.
    “The bear approaches the large man and sniffs, but does nothing to him. After the
animal is gone the thin one climbs downs and returns to the road. He says, ‘We really
learned a lesson about bears today.’
                                                                     The Kith – 57 –

     “The large man replies, ‘I learned that I need friends who won’t desert me the first sign
of danger.’”
     “What do you know of it?”
     “I echo your thoughts. You stopped being my friend, you lost your right to grieve.”
     “Jack?” she said, her voice nearly failing. Turning to the man beside her she stared into
eyes so blue they could only be his. But unlike the first time she had met him there was no
light in them. Muscles around his lips appeared frozen in a snarl and the complexion of his
skin was nearly transparent. Cecil desired to reach out and caress his cheek, like he did
their first date, but something held her back. Something stopped her.
     He stood but kept his gaze locked on her. A long, black trench coat clung heavily to his
thin, muscular frame. Taking a few steps forward he walked over the gravemarker and
answered, “Are you relieved that I am proof of an afterlife, or repulsed that I am ranked
with that Angel banished to Earth?” He chuckled like a man gone insane, but still sane
enough to recall sanity. “I am neither.”
     Cecil lost all fear. For one brief instant she saw him for the man he could have been
and ran to him. Wrapped her arms around him. And wept into his chest. But he pushed
her away, so hard that she fell to the ground. Then he leapt, seemingly flying through the
air to land before her.
     He spoke: “I am not alive, but neither am I not dead. You have no idea the evil within
me, but I tell you this: it is the one that you planted. Your friendship could have saved me,
but instead your indifference has damned me.”
     “Please Jack … no.”
     He stood, shoved his fists into pockets and walked away. Back into the rain, into the
darkness, into a place that he had once said he feared most of all would own him.

   Trent never looked away from Tammi as he said, “Set them free and I will give
myself freely to you.”
“Tammi,” Jack tightened his grip on Melanie’s throat, “do you want to be free?”
   She looked one last time at Trent and then at her Sage. With a voice as soft as fresh-
woven silk she said, “Yes. Yes, I do.”
   Melanie watched as the veins on her captor’s arm bulged. She tried to scream, but
was only able to get enough air to stay conscious. Jack’s eyes turned crimson, but he let
Melanie go. She fell to her knees, tears falling from her eyes and blood dripping from her
nose. Tammi rushed beside her and said, “Come on!”
   Melanie followed her to the door, stopping to face the Christian. At first he did not
look at her, but stayed transfixed into the mirror where her soul reflected but his did not.
   “Can you ever forgive me?” he asked.
   Melanie reached out for his cheek. “I wish I’d known you as my Mother did. I
wish…”
   “That I hadn’t….”
   Melanie placed her fingers on his lips, wrapped her arms around him, and cried.
“Can’t you escape?”
   “Yes. But then Jack will kill you two.”
   “How can you believe in a god that won’t save you?”
                                                                   The Kith – 58 –

    Trent met her eyes and rubbed her cheek. As a blood-red tear crawled from his icy-
stare he said, “He has saved me. ‘Whoever finds his life will lose it, and whoever loses
his life for my sake will find it.1’ He saved me through sacrifice, and now that is how he
will also save you.”
    “But?”
    “I will pray that you seek Eternity. That is His true gift to you.”
    She brushed his lips with her fingers and he kissed them. Again he asked, “Can you
forgive me?”
    “Yes,” she said as Tammi tugged on her arm. “I forgive you, and I ask that Christ
come into my heart. I will serve Him where you cannot.”




1
    Matt 10:39 (NIV)
                                                                   The Kith – 59 –


                                     EPIILOGUE
                                     EP LOGUE
    Cecil kneeled in the damp sod. In one hand she held a spade, and in the other a
handful of the weeds that had grown so thick they nearly covered a stone marker that
read, “Jack Calloway. Presumed dead in the Puzzle slaughter.” Six pots rested on either
side of the stone, in each a colourful arrangement of flowers. It had rained recently,
leaving the earth heavy and hard to manage. But even when it seemed fruitless Cecil
worked to make the site clean.
    The sun replaced dark clouds and had turned the evening hot and humid. Leftover
rainfall could still be heard running down eavesdroughs and dripping from rooftops.
From somewhere in the east, the scent carried by a slight breeze, hamburgers were being
barbecued. A tear fell form Cecil’s eyes into a fresh hole dug for the first potted plants.
    “I checked the coffee shop, but you weren’t there.”
    The voice sent a million shivers throughout her spine. It was not unlike water
freezing in a crack in the sidewalk and splitting a mass of cement in two. She dared not
turn to see who it was, she dared not stop her task. But she also could not ignore the
presence who added, “Actually, the café wasn’t there either.”
Standing on her knees Cecil turned slowly and saw a tall but muscular man, early
twenties, sporting a silk dress shirt, tapered dress pants and full length trench coat. His
long, dark hair was tied back and over his eyes were mirrored sunglasses. His skin was
pale, his face sombre and his shoulders slumped as if encumbered by a heavy burden. She
tried to speak his name but no sound emitted from her lips.
    “yes, it’s me. I was passing through town and wanted to say good-bye.”
    “My word, you haven’t changed … you’re still young.” This time she was able to
speak, but she felt as though the scene were unfolding in a dream.
    Jack walked to the marker, kneeled and ran his finger over the stone. Though there
did not appear to be a cloud in the sky rain fell through the bright sunlight. To the stone
Jack said, “On that day I truly died,” and then to Cecil, “But today I am reborn.”
    “The last time I saw you in the graveyard, I convinced myself it was a dream.” She
shivered from the rain that had soaked her clothes. She did not know when her tears had
joined the downpour, but noticed them only when Jack reached out to wipe them away.
    “Your dream was my nightmare. But Christ woke me from it, He sent me a
messenger and now I am a sheep returned to the flock.”
    Cecil leaped and embraced him. She burst into uncontrolled sobs as she buried her
face into his shoulder. “I’m so sorry. I never should have deserted you!”
    “And I should have been more patient. I will forgive you, will you do the same for
me?”
    The rain ceased. Sunlight sparked in every pool of water. Cecil smiled and kissed
Jack on the cheek. “I do. What brought this change in you?”
    “I killed a man. I killed a man who would die for me although I was still a sinner,
where few men would die even for a good man. I thought that no one would die for a
wicked man.”
                                                                The Kith – 60 –

    Jack stood and turned. He walked off, head bowed and hands tucked deep into
pockets. He did not know where to go, who to find, nor what to seek. But he did know
that to honour God is to have Him honour you, and that would be enough.
                                             The Kith – 61 –




This EBook has been brought to you by James McCann,
               author of WULFSIGN.
               polite_james@hotmail.com


  James McCann is a cancer survivor who has pursued
  writing since childhood. He has worked as an actor, a
children's entertainer and currently sells children's books.
An adventurer by spirit he has done such daring things as
 drive across Canada in a 68 Volkswagen Beetle and eat
  sushi. The former he would like to do again someday.


If you would like to purchase a copy of McCann’s first
         book, WULFSIGN, you can do so at
              www.mcnallyrobinson.com
                   Keyword: wulfsign