Chapter Six

I’m counting.

The thing about numbers is that they’re a constant. They never change. Math doesn’t, and neither does chemistry. Science is science, regardless of how you want to look at it. And numbers don’t lie.

So in times of need, I count.

The flutters of his eyelashes on my chest when he blinks, one every seven seconds or so. The beats his heart jumps against my stomach. Eighty-two per minute. A calm pace.

He’s relaxed, and it’s good. I remember the first time I counted his pulse…

It wasn’t such a good time.

But right now is a rapture. Shame it can’t last.

I know it, he knows it. Mother does.

The unfortunate fact is that even though I thoroughly enjoy myself with my foster brother, we can never be more than a secret; a hidden fantasy fulfilled in the dark. With drugs in his veins, and in mine too, let’s be honest… that’s the only time we can do this.

And once the high fades, it’s back to business as usual.

Darian stirs and I run my fingers along his back. He was listening to me just now. I hope I didn’t upset him, even though it’s just our truth. A truth he’s well aware of, by the way.

That’s the thing about Empyrean. There are no secrets. You must be prepared for complete and total honesty; openness to your fellow animals. Once the third eye is opened, it doesn’t close, and keeping yourself cognizant of that is very important.

The first few times were a challenge. There are certain things I can’t have Darian knowing, not yet anyway. I had to learn to block them from my thoughts, or to cover them up with other things, so he couldn’t hear. It’s worked so far, but I’m in a state of constant hiding.

Darian, on the other hand, hasn’t perfected the skill of sequestering his subconscious. When he thinks, he thinks loud. His mind is wild and free, and I do love that about him. It’s unfortunate he can’t be that way in real life. Not completely.

I blame myself for his lack of self-confidence regarding his sexuality. After all, I’ve been the one telling him for years that it would be wrong for us to be together. That, paired with what happened to him when we were kids, I think has severely stunted his ability to see his proper path. And to really understand how perfect he is.

Let’s be clear; I’m not saying him being with another man is wrong. I’m saying him being with me is wrong, because it is. But it’s not about sexuality or being open with who you love…

It’s about me being evil.

To put it plainly, I’m not a good person, and Darian is. He needs to be with someone who’s equally good. Someone deserving of every wonderful thing about him.

And that’s not me.

It’s a scientific fact that every natural supply has a return. That light must be met with darkness. Darian isn’t wrong in believing that. What he doesn’t understand, however, is that Satan used a serpent to tempt Adam and Eve for a reason. And that’s not to say I believe in the Holy Bible more than I believe in science. I don’t.

But even in our consideration of the word of God, and our Mother Earth, the serpent is a symbol of death.

That’s me.

I bring death wherever I go, and I’m almost sure I’m destined for some form of eternal pain. I refuse to let Darian get swept up in all that. He’s far too important to me.

“Your thoughts are buzzing,” he murmurs, pulling me tighter with his leg draped over mine. He likes to get all tangled up like this, I suspect because he knows I could flee at any moment. “Like radio static.”

“Maybe my brain is scrambled.” I grin, and he peers up at me, giving me a look like I’m an idiot. It makes me laugh.

A small smile tugs at his full lips, though it’s clear he’s trying to smother it as he crawls on top of me, straddling my hips. He’s still naked, and it’s active work not looking at all the places I want to touch, and taste.

I have to go.

“You’re fighting too hard.” He leans down and presses his lips to my jaw. “Just one more time… while I still have you.”

“You don’t have me.” I keep my tone as firm as I can, resisting every urge to grab him by the waist and shove him down on my cock again.

He flinches but covers it up quick. “I know that. I’m just saying… it feels good. And no one will know.”

He grinds his hardening erection into mine, and against every bit of animal inside me, I press my hands on his chest to push him back.

“That’s not the point. We agreed…”

He sits back farther, jaw tight to sequester emotions I can hear as if he’s screaming them in my face.

“No. We never agreed on anything like this. In fact, it was always about Empyrean, wasn’t it, Drake?” His eyes are so light now. Even in the dimly lit room, they look like aquamarine, only with some gray thrown in. A stark contrast to the almost pitch black from thirty minutes ago. “So it actually makes no sense for us to hook up at all. You could just give me the vial and be on your way.”

I sit up fast until we’re nose to nose. He looks momentarily startled.

“First of all, you wouldn’t know how to shoot yourself up if you tried, and you’d end up wasting it,” I start. He opens his mouth to object, but I press my palm over it. “And second of all, the moment you stop needing me to turn you out, brother dearest, you let me know. This arrangement could be much more practical.”

He appears wounded, as if I just shot him. And I don’t feel any better about it myself.

But this is what I have to do… It’s always been this way.

You’re an asshole, he thinks, loud enough that it’ll be echoing through my mind for the next three days.

I know.

I kiss the back of my hand covering his mouth, then I shift him off my lap and scramble off the bed. I have to leave, right now, before something bad happens. Before we say more stuff we don’t mean, or before we keep thinking the stuff we really do.

I’ve known for a while that this is dangerous, this thing I do with Darian. He relies on Empyrean, though he doesn’t need it. He experienced his Ecdysis long ago, and anything from this point on is just a means to an end. But I fear it’s become more of him relying on me as well; on what I give him, more than the drugs.

Darian has needs only fulfilled by me. And I’m torn between wanting to always give in to him, and knowing I should steer clear, to protect him from my inevitable damnation.

“Don’t…” His voice stops me, though it trails off after the first word.

I pause my hasty redressing and hang my head, back to him. Don’t turn around… I tell myself.

But I do. I glance over my shoulder, and he’s just kneeling on the bed, right where I left him, looking helpless. I hate seeing him like that, because he’s the strongest person I know. He’s the King of the Expanse.

But when he makes that face, it reminds me of all those years ago…

The day we ran and never looked back.

His eyes are wide, and he finishes his sentence with his lips sealed shut.

Don’t go.

I shift away, tugging my shirt back on as I head for the door.

“I’ll see you in a few days.”

“Listen up, shrimp. Today’s the day.”

I look up from the pages of the comic book I’m reading and meet the eyes of my foster father.

Dan.

He sucks.

“What day?” I ask, eyes dropping back to my comic. I don’t really want to talk to him, but I know if I don’t it’ll make him angry. So I play along with whatever he’s trying to do in hopes it doesn’t earn me a bruise.

“You’re getting a new brother,” he tells me, standing by the edge of my bed, looking down at me. “Hopefully, he’s more useful than your sorry ass.”

Oh please, Dickhead Dan. Do tell me more about how much of a disappointment I am to you.

But before I can even continue insulting him in my head, I focus on what he actually just said.

A brother? Really??

I’ve never had siblings before. I’ve kind of always wanted one. Someone to lessen the burden, and spend time with me when I’m alone, which is just about always.

Mom used to tell Dad she wanted to have another baby, but he’d laugh at her. One was one too many for him.

“Oh,” I say, because I’m not sure what else I could. I’m a bit stunned.

Dan and Kara barely want me. Why would they want another foster kid?

“Kara’s on her way home with him right now.” He tilts his head at me. “And I want you on your best behavior, you little cretin. Got it?”

Anger bubbles inside me, but I nod anyway. I really hate this guy. I hate him so much, it makes me want to run far, far away.

Someday I will. I don’t think I can wait until I’m eighteen. I can’t do six more years in this hellhole. I just need to get a little bigger, save up some money, learn some more. I like school, but it’s hard to concentrate knowing I have to come home to this.

Dan looks around, at my desk, piled high with books, my makeshift shelf I built out of some old crates stacked with comics, and he scoffs, shaking his head. “Make some space and bring the cot up from the basement. He’ll have to sleep on that until we get him a bed.”

He turns to leave the room, and I take a breath. But then he stops.

“You’re a waste of a son, shrimp.” He peers at me. “No wonder your father got himself sent to jail. To get away from you, I’m sure.”

Then he leaves my bedroom. Leaves me staring at the door, fist tightened so hard at my side it’s going numb.

My father didn’t get sent to jail to get away from me. He got sent to jail because he was a drunk and he killed my mother. Strangled her to death when I was nine years old.

I found her…

My gaze goes far for a moment while I remember waking up to go to the bathroom, turning on the light to find dead eyes staring up at me from the floor.

Pasty face. Mouth open.

She’d been dead for hours.

I close my eyes and shake myself out of it. I’ve gotta get out of this place. Detroit is a pit of sorrow. That’s all I’ve ever experienced here. The only place I’ve ever been truly happy was in the forest.

My parents took me camping once when I was little. We went to some place up near Flint; I don’t remember what it was called. But we pitched a tent and cuddled up in sleeping bags. They made a fire, and we roasted marshmallows. It was fun.

And plus, I was too young to understand my dad’s drinking or my mom’s unhappiness. I was blissfully unaware of all the trouble in the world, and the impending destruction of my life.

It was just good.

Someday I’ll go back to the woods.

I spend the next hour trying to get the damn cot upstairs. I’m only twelve and still sort of small for my age, so it’s really difficult. Dan should be the one doing this, but he wouldn’t. He just makes me do everything while he sits around, acting like a weirdo. That’s why he calls me shrimp, because I haven’t had my growth spurt yet. But I will, I know it. I’ll get tall, and strong.

Hopefully strong enough to fight back.

I set the cot up in my room, across from my bed. Then I get clean sheets and blankets, making it up nice. There are no more pillows, so I give him mine. My new brother probably needs a pillow more than me.

I assume if he’s coming here, it’s because something fucked up happened. Life is shit. I wouldn’t be surprised.

When Foster Mom Oblivious, I mean, Kara, gets back, I dart out of my room to the top of the steps and peek down. And sure enough, in walks a kid who looks about my age, maybe a little bigger, with a backpack on, clutching a pillow to his chest. I blink slowly as they pass the stairs, Kara showing him around. Eventually they come upstairs, and I run back to my room, acting like I haven’t been waiting anxiously to meet him.

“And this will be your room,” she tells him, bringing him inside. “You’ll have to share. Drake, I’d like you to meet Darian. Darian, this is your new brother, Drake.”

He turns his eyes on me and gapes at me for a moment. I look down at my lap, a knee-jerk reaction when people first see me. I know I’m a little different. My eyes are colored like marbles and kids at school call me a freak.

But when I look back up at Darian, he has this kind smile on. Then he waves at me.

“Hey,” he says, pretty casually.

“Hey.”

“Well, I’ll leave you boys to get to know each other.” Kara pats Darian on the back. “Dinner will be ready in about an hour.”

She leaves the room, and he watches her go. As soon as she’s audibly downstairs, he turns to me. “She seems alright.”

“She’s fine, I guess.” I shrug. “Kind of stupid, if you ask me.”

He laughs. It almost makes me smile, but then I remember I don’t do that and put it away.

“Why is she stupid?”

“Because she’s willingly married to that asshole.” I nod toward the doorway.

“Dan?” He removes his backpack and sets it down on the cot.

“Yea. He’s a prick.”

“Wow. So you don’t really like anyone, huh?” He glances at me in between pulling miscellaneous stuff out of his backpack.

I think about what he just asked me for a second. It’s not that I don’t like anyone, it’s just that I haven’t met anyone worth liking yet.

“I just don’t like them,” I mutter, plopping down onto my bed.

“What happened to your parents?” Darian asks, and I decide I like him.

I like him because he’s talking to me. And asking about me. No one ever does.

“Mom’s dead. Dad’s in jail. He killed her,” I answer, in my usual unfazed tone. “What about yours?”

“My mom’s dead, too. She overdosed on drugs.” He looks down at his shoes. “I never knew my dad.”

“They’re overrated,” I tell him, and his eyes dart up to mine. “Parents.”

“I was hoping Dan would be a good dad,” he says softly, and you can really hear that hopefulness. I feel bad that he’s striking out once again in the father department.

“I hate to break it to you, but he sucks.” I flop backward on the bed and stare up at the cracks in the ceiling.

I hear Darian shuffling around for a few seconds, but I don’t look up until he says, “Did you give me your pillow?”

I sit up on my elbows. “Yea. I didn’t know you were gonna bring your own.”

“Thanks.” He grins, then stomps over to my bed, holding out his pillow. “Trade?”

I stare at him for a minute, wondering if he’ll actually be a brother to me, or if he’s just acting nice now, and once we get into school and he becomes more popular than me, he’ll pretend I don’t exist. I really hope not, because he seems cool.

He seems like he could be my brother.

I take the pillow from him and stuff it under my head. It has a different smell than mine, obviously because it’s his. And as weird as it is, I kind of like it.

Darian, my brother…

I’ll have to protect him. I almost don’t have a choice.