Délon City: Book Two of the Oz Chronicles (4 page)

“Do it!” Reya screamed.

“This is beautiful,” Devlin giggled.

Another step, and I still had no plan. It was looking more and more like I was about to lose my best friend... again. Another step. One more and I couldn’t stall any longer. The last step. I knelt down. Gordy closed his eyes tight. The skinner whipped about violently. It was about to feed. There was only one thing left to do. As if my arm was moving through molasses, I extended it toward Gordy, all the time praying for a way out of killing my best friend.

THREE

Délon Miles burst through the door. “The royal scarab has emerged.” His voice was full of excitement.

General Roy grabbed my arm. “No time for fun,” he said, snarling with disappointment. He took the skinner from me and stuck it in his pouch. “The royal scarab awaits.”

Gordy fainted. He had been saved by the bell, or in this case the scarab. I was happy for him, but I also knew that the emergence of the royal scarab meant I was about to undergo something called a marking. All I knew about this much anticipated procedure is that it was painful, very painful.

I was yanked to my feet by Miles and Devlin and escorted to the door. Lou and I shared a quick glance. She looked different. I couldn’t put my finger on it, but there was something about her that wasn’t the same. She smiled, and I was immediately filled with courage.

Devlin and Miles continued to drag me down the hallway. General Roy led the way. He walked with purpose. It was apparent this marking meant a lot to him.

We reached the nurse’s office, and the general threw open the door. Devlin and Miles tossed me inside.

“The lights,” General Roy said.

Devlin picked up a nearby mop, and Miles grabbed a broom. They started smashing the florescent lights overhead.

I ducked my head and backed away. “You guys ever hear of a light switch?”

Once all the lights were broken, Pop entered the room carrying a box covered with a black cloth. “This is such an honor, son.” He placed the box on the examination table.

General Roy approached. “This is a day Délons will celebrate until the end of time.”

“You want to clue me in here?” I said. “What am I supposed to do?”

The general removed the black cloth from the box revealing an aquarium. A round beetle about the size of a fist with a scorpion’s tail scampered about the glass enclosure.

“You don’t have to do anything,” General Roy said. “The royal scarab will do all the work.”

I suddenly remembered what scarab meant, beetle. The skinners, the screamers, the scarabs, the spider legs on the head, the insect mandibles in the mouths, I was beginning to see a theme here. This Storyteller had a thing for bugs. I hated bugs.

General Roy ordered all the others out of the room. He turned to me. “I wish I could stay for this, but the marking is a solitary event.”

“In that case, take the beetle-thingy with you,” I said.

He cocked his head and thought about my request. After a few moments of pondering he laughed. “Another joke. I get it.” He backed out of the room and closed the door.

The room was dark, but I could still see. Escaping through the only door was useless. The general and the others would be waiting for me. There was a small window that was sealed shut. The second I broke the glass they would be on top of me. My only recourse was to kill the beetle..., which was gone.

In my haste to formulate an escape plan, I had taken my eye off the royal scarab. Big mistake. I heard a humming above my head. It zipped and soared. The fist-sized beetle had wings. It blended in with the dark background so I couldn’t see it, but I could hear it flying back and forth. It was looking for me, no doubt.

I picked up a metal tray on the nearby counter. The beetle buzzed by my ear, and I swung the tray blindly. The other ear. I jumped back and continued to swing the tray, missing my target with every swat. In my big book of fun, swatting at a sadistic scorpion beetle with a metal tray in the dark while it buzzed my head didn’t make the list.

It hit me with a thud on the arm, and I screamed like a little baby. My adrenaline was through the roof. I swung the tray like I was the homerun king. In a moment of complete panic and sheer luck, I heard a heavy whack as I whirled the tray forward. I hit it. A clunk shortly followed, and I knew it was on the floor somewhere in front of me. Instinct told me I hadn’t killed it, merely knocked it out of commission briefly. Time was of the essence. I knelt down with the tray raised above my head. I was going to kill it and be done with this whole marking thing before it started.

I frantically searched the floor in front of me. Nothing. I bent down, slowly, carefully, my eyes peeled for the bug. The skin on my right arm crawled. My whole body was tied up in knots. I felt a twinge in my gut. The anticipation was excruciating. The skin on my right arm crawled again... Only it wasn’t my skin crawling. It was something crawling on my right arm. Attached to my forearm with thousands of tiny little hooks at the end of its six little legs was the royal scarab. I stared at it motionless. If this had been the old west, this would have been the stare down in a gunfight, each gunslinger waiting for the other to make a move. Who would be first out of the holster? I flinched first. Another big mistake. The beetle’s pinchers sank into my skin. I felt a searing pain followed by a complete relaxation of my right arm. My arm flopped to the floor. I could feel it, but I couldn’t move it. The rest of my body soon followed. I lay on my back, unable to move, but still able to feel all my extremities. In fact, there was a heightened sense of feeling in my body. It was as if every nerve ending was pumped full of some kind of happy juice that made me extra aware of every inch of my skin all at once. It was maddening.

I felt the royal scarab march up my arm. I felt its little prickly feet dig into my skin as it made its way onto my shoulder and then my face. I tried to blow it off, but I couldn’t muster up even the slightest little puff. I wasn’t even sure if I was breathing at all.

The beetle paused at my nose and probed inside my nostrils with its pinchers, never biting me, just toying with me. I could see the dark hump of its back. It moved past my nose and inched toward my left eye, its tiny feet digging into me deeper and deeper all the way. Inside my head, I could hear its mandibles rubbing together.

Its beetle eyes looked into my left eye. It let out a deafening screech, and then in a quick almost indiscernible motion it extended its scorpion tail and stung me in the corner of my left eye.

The pain was unbearable. It was as if the eye was plucked from the socket. My whole head felt as if it were on fire and inflated to twice its normal size. I just knew it was going to pop at any moment. I wanted to pass out. I wanted to go to sleep and never wake up again, but I couldn’t.

A flood of light entered the room as the door opened. General Roy hovered above me, smiling that hideous Délon smile.

***

My eye burned and throbbed for hours after the marking. I’m sure the venom from the royal scarab bite that had heightened all my senses heightened my sense of pain, too. The pain in turn brought with it a hyper sense of anger. I was mad as hell. At everything and nothing in particular. I wanted to tear the world apart. My heart pumped lava through my veins. Steam was coming out of my ears. I thought about the skinner in my hand earlier. It twitched and squirmed anxious to get at Gordy, and I held it back. Why did I hold it back? Why didn’t I let it kill Gordy? Lying there with my eye swollen shut, I couldn’t make sense of my desire to save Gordy’s life. It seemed unnatural.

I was back in my bedroom. I don’t exactly remember how I ended up there. I was aware of nothing but my own body and thoughts and senses. As the pain subsided, bits and pieces of the previous hours came back to me. General Roy and the others had escorted my father’s truck back home. I lay in the bed of the truck barely alive. They were all rejoicing in my pain and misery. They knew it was bringing me one step closer to being one of them.

Nightfall was upon Tullahoma when I was able to sit up in my bed without wanting to wretch. With my good eye, I spotted my solifipod in the corner of the room. It was expanding and contracting in slow even movements. I was surprised that I did not have the same level of disgust for it that I had had before. In fact, a small part of me was glad to see it. Pop had called it my best friend. Somehow that wasn’t such a crazy notion anymore.

Intellectually, I knew the marking had done something to me, but I was starting not to care, and that scared me. It was as if there were two people living inside my head. One clinging to my past, fighting for the old world. The other, if not embracing the notion of joining the Délons, certainly not putting up much of a fight.

I sat on the edge of my bed not wanting to stand, but somehow feeling I had to. My knees gave way as soon I stood, and I fell. I placed my hand on the wood floor and attempted to push myself up. The wood plank moved underneath my hand. I examined it more closely. Digging my fingernails into the seams, I was able to remove the loose board, uncovering a small secret compartment. I reached inside and pulled out a photograph. It was the picture of Nate and his parents that I had saved for him. An exhausted Mrs. Chalmers cradled her newborn son in her arms while Mr. Chalmers proudly sat at her bedside.

I stared at the picture for what seemed an eternity. I studied every inch of it. I thought about Stevie’s comic book and how, for some inexplicable reason, he had made me the hero of his story. Looking after Nate, that felt... noble. I wanted that feeling again.

I don’t know how the picture got in my room in a secret compartment in the floor next to my bed, but it was obvious that I was meant to find it then, at the time when I was having thoughts of giving in to the Délons.

I stuck the photo in my back pocket, and I forced myself to my feet. I was cold. The room wasn’t cold. I was cold from the inside out. My bones felt as if they were frozen and my muscles were ice crystals. The hate I had felt earlier was finding a target. If I ever got my hands on that fat little royal scarab, I was going to pluck it apart ugly little bug part by ugly little bug part.

I opened the door to my bedroom. The house was dark. Miles was lying on the couch, snoring away like he didn’t have a care in the world. It was good to see him sleeping. Délons slept. They were at least that human. If they slept, that meant they had vulnerabilities. If they had vulnerabilities, that meant they could be defeated.

I backed into my room and closed the door. I was shivering uncontrollably. I felt as if I would shatter at any moment. As quietly as possible, I tore through my dresser and found the heaviest sweater I owned. After finding my favorite blue jean jacket, I opened my bedroom window and stumbled into the crisp cold world outside what was once my home.

The wind howled through the bare branches of the trees in the neighborhood. My vision limited to one eye and my movement severely impaired by frozen insides, I clumsily navigated my way to the Chalmers’ house. Climbing the steps to their front porch took every effort. Knocking on their door bruised my fragile knuckles, and seeing Mrs. Chalmers when she opened the door nearly broke my heart. She was a halfer.

The brutal-looking beast sniffed the air. Her milky Délon eye zoomed back and forth while her human hand reached out and caressed my swollen left eye. “You’ve been marked.”

“Mrs. Chalmers...”

“You shouldn’t be here,” she said concerned.

“I have to find Nate.”

“Nate?” Her human eye brightened. “I know that name.” “Your son, Mrs. Chalmers...”

A drunken voice roared from the staircase behind her. “Who’s

at the door?”

She didn’t answer.

“Answer me, you ugly cow!”

I peered around her and saw a Délon standing at the top of

the stairs with a bottle of whisky in its hand. It was Mr. Chalmers. “I said who is it? Speak, you stinking halfer!”

I stepped past Mrs. Chalmers and entered the house. “It’s

me... Mr. Chalmers.” It sounded funny calling the monster at the top of the stairs Mr. Chalmers, but I didn’t know what else to call him.

He stomped down three stairs trying to focus his dead eyes on me. “Me who?”

“Oz Griffin.”

“Oz...” His posture changed. He dropped the whisky bottle and barreled down the remaining stairs. “Oz Griffin. Oz Griffin.” He fell to his knees. “Forgive me, Oz Griffin.”

“Forgive you?” I looked at Mrs. Chalmers. She bowed her head in shame. “For what?”

“I know it is forbidden to keep halfers in your home, but what am I to do, she is from my... before I transformed. Before I was reborn Délon .” Mr. Chalmers was shaking more than me. He was scared for his life.

Mrs. Chalmers screamed. “I am only this way because you made me this way!”

“Shut up!” The Délon growled. His fear was quickly replaced by intense anger. I could empathize with him. I knew that anger. I longed for that anger when I saw it in him.

“I will not. You broke the law. You couldn’t wait for my marking. You broke the law.”

Mr. Chalmers grabbed my pant leg. He began to plead. “I only wanted her to know the beauty of being Délon . The glorious hatred, the pure fury, the cleansing...”

“Anger?” I said.

“Yes, yes. I wanted her to feel it, to know it, to become it.”

“You broke the law,” Mrs. Chalmers repeated.

“It is an unjust law. You were filthy with your human essence. I wanted it out of my house.”

“You knew what it would do to me. You knew I would become this.”

Mr. Chalmers looked at me. “It’s not true. I had studied the old way. I read about the method used in battle. I performed it on her. I thought it would work.”

I backhanded the Délon kneeling before me. I did it without thinking. It brought me a pleasure that I had never known before. I wanted to do it again. I wanted to rip the flesh from his bones. The wanting flushed away the coldness. I knew if I hit him again my blood would begin to boil and it would bring me the strength of ten men. I backed away. “You broke the law.”