Evil Origins by JD Simser
chapter FIVE
Renaud
I remembered Irene as a freckle faced twelve-year-old girl with pigtails and giant buck teeth. Probably the homeliest girl I had ever met, but time had made her into a beautiful young woman. I might even say a young lady, but I truly didn’t think there were many of them left anymore. She wrapped her arms around and I shivered. Not the shiver of happiness that a warm-hearted and long-delayed family reunion might bring, but one of discomfort at the invasion of personal space that made me want to tear my own skin off. Maybe I was reading too much into it, but something seemed artificial about her embrace. Irene was squeezing me tightly, to the point that it felt like my ribs were going to break, but something inside her soul seem to hate my very existence, like I was a long lost enemy rather than family.
Murlin told me about the gold-digger, William and how he manipulated everybody around him, as well as how it didn’t take magic or psychic abilities to see the hatred inside him. Part of me knew that I should hate him or at least feel some kind of anger about the way he tried to steal everything that my brother had built, but I didn’t feel. I enjoyed taunting him and it was so damn easy to do, but I didn’t hate him. Not yet. I am sure the more I got to know him the more I would grow to hate him, but time would have to tell.
Irene brought her lips to my ear and whispered.
“Renaud, please don’t start a fight with William, ok? He might not be what most people would call a knight in shining armor, but I love him and he treats me like a princess.”
I was dredging through my memory trying to find the best response, but I couldn’t get past Jenny’s eyes. They sparkled and twinkled making think of the light trying to break free of the darkness but it didn’t have the effect on me that I had expected. I was trapped and isolated for what felt like centuries, and it took great effort to remember how to stand. I needed something greater than my pain, and so I chose my dearest memory and in the midst of the desert surrounding my heart I built a garden around it. As I stared into her eyes I realized that I had built a mountain to protect her memory, but it wasn’t the memory of her I was trying to save. It was the idea of her that I needed to hang onto. Not the real her, but the way I wanted her to be and now that I had escaped my own personal hell, I didn’t need that fairytale any longer. I realized how long I had been staring. I still had a lot to do before the people I was dealing with realized I was missing. A lot more to do before my master came to collect me. Luckily for her, our roads weren’t connected and she had no place in my world.
Irene pleaded as she tapped me on the shoulder.
“Renaud, please answer me. Do try and keep the peace. Seeing you here will be hard enough on him without you taunting him.”
I wanted to tell her that in my list of concerns the company, the apartment, the money, and even her conman fiancé meant nothing to me. I felt nothing as I looked around at it all. That none of it had anymore meaning to me then a picture or song that I didn’t really like, but even if I didn’t any emotional I knew right from wrong so I dug a little deeper into the memory bank sorting through all the stolen kisses, the wild laughter until I finally found it. A memory worth reliving, or at least a piece of one. It was one of the last memories I had of my brother, Harrow. The last day I shared with him before the family curse claimed me by passing to him. He was standing there, a boyish grin on his face as usual and in the midst of an argument.
“I will play nice if you do little brother,” he said, smirking. I went on to break his nose, and I was hoping that this time it wouldn’t end the same way. I kissed her forehead softly, like I had seen in so many movies and then carefully whispered, “I will play nice if he does.”
“Thank you,” she breathed as she squeezed me tighter and kissed my cheek. I knew for her it was a form of affection, but I still wanted to climb the walls and escape. Alas, there was no escape for my kind, only degrees of misery. Interrupting my thought, she continued, “just let me calm him down a bit before I officially introduce you.”
I watched her walk away, still surprised that she was no longer the little girl I remembered. William glared at me and I couldn’t blame him. As far as he was concerned, my returning from the dead wasn’t a thing of evil as I knew that wasn’t what he feared. What scared him most was the impending financial disaster he was facing. Irene grabbed his hand and lead him down the hallway until he was lost from view.
“It seems like we are going to be attending a party,” Murlin mused as she walked towards me. “Should I look sophisticated, glamorous, or just plain trashy?” She leaned in close as she passed and whispered, “Tomorrow is another day. We must give the common folk hope and the best thing you can do to honor your brother is to make an appearance.” There was a sensual sway in her hips as she walked and it was a point of playfulness to her to made sure that everyone noticed. Before I could object, she pressed her finger to my lips and shushed me. “Aren’t you even a little bit curious as to what type of man he is?” Smiling, she added “It couldn’t have been just the money, since you made tenfold more than he could ever dream of making. Surely you must wonder what kind of man could replace you?”
It was an intriguing question indeed. Jenny’s eyes never left me, even with her struggling hard to conceal it. Her eyes were the ones I always remembered. Sad, soft child like eyes that made her appear so very vulnerable. I remembered the affect they use to have on me, but I didn’t feel it anymore. Had it ever been real, or was it just an illusion that my mind had built around her? If I didn’t feel the effects of love, did it mean that I had lost my humanity completely? Wilson looked so old next to her, more like father and daughter then husband and wife. My time with her was such a thin, faded memory that I couldn’t put all the pieces back together again. t was like my past life was a giant jigsaw puzzle and most of the pieces were damaged or lost. Watching him, I could still remember the scorching hatred I had for this man. Fire-fueled thoughts of how easily I could burn him from the inside out and nobody would know the better. I even went so far as to get an estimate from a hitman, but then I talked to the ancestor. I remembered that meeting so clearly it was like yesterday. The one that started the curse that haunted my blood line, generation after generation. My sacrifice had stopped the curse and would allow those that came after me to live a normal human life, but the bloodline was dying and soon it would end.
“You’re staring,” Murlin remarked. “That’s impolite.” Giggling, she added “You seem lost deep thought.”
“Just a memory” I said, quietly.
“Was she naked in this memory?” I shushed her, which seemed to make her laugh even more. “Oh master, they can’t hear my thoughts. Only you have that intimate connection with me.”
I was staring down at the river through the glass doors, lost again in my thoughts. The office was built right along the river, but if the river had magic it was long gone at night. There were speckles of light twinkling across the river like stars, and if you turned your head just the right way, there was the flashy orange, red, and blue light show on a far off building. People seemed to be pouring into the party like water rushing through the rapids of a savage river. Too many new, hopeful faces staring at me. William was still the center of attention as he was still the acting president, but after a few well selected interruptions he stopped bragging about his future plans for the company. I could see the hate in his eyes as I managed to point out he didn’t control an empire like Caesar of Rome. Obviously, I didn't have a clue how to act amongst people never mind how to run a company, but this guy seemed less qualified to do it then I was. Just listening to him talk reminded me of one of those people who always have to outdo you. The ones who seem to have a great story that’s always just a little more tragic then yours, or they drove a car just a little bit fancier than yours. I might not be able to feel everything I once did, but I knew an asshole when I saw one and William was one deserving of a capital “A.”
The real problem was that I had no emotional att
"You might be a more effective leader if you actually spoke with your employees," a soft, mouse-like whisper of a voice broke through the silence. I turned around to find Irene standing there, a glass of wine in each hand. Handing one to me she added, “You know, William can be quite the asset if you give him a chance.”
The wine was rather bland, but I drank it anyway. When death takes away every pleasure for what seems like an eternity, even the worst tasting wine is good merely because it has flavor. Irene was staring at me, awaiting my answer.
“You mean am I planning on taking control of Nathanial’s company?”
“Legally, it belongs to you now that you have resurfaced.” Irene watched William’s reflection in the glass. “The company will need leadership. Are you sure you are up for running it? It's no longer the tiny little mom-and-pop affair that your father started. It's a corporate giant in robotics and CMM software now." Her eyes flicked from side to side as her lips continued to move in almost-silence. "It's customer base is scattered through twenty-eight countries with over a thousand resellers globally." I wanted William following along as I continued, “Do you really understand what we do?”
“I didn’t come here to steal the company or take it from you. I didn’t even know Nathanial died until today. I just came home.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. I didn’t even know that my father’s little shop had become such a giant enterprise, nor that my baby brother had even died. Irene seemed happy with my answer even if it wasn’t the complete answer that she wanted. The way she looked at William’s reflection with that rosy cheeked smile said more than any words possible could.
“Here, take this,” she said as she handed me a white device with a giant screen.
“What’s this?” I asked as I held it in my hand.
Rolling her eyes, she mumbled “Oh Renaud, you are so far behind. It’s my old cell phone.” Sliding her thumb along the screen she continued, “I already programmed Mike’s, Murlin’s, and my number into it. You have been gone for many years so I think all the people you know have moved away. All you have to do is open the address book like this and press this little green button to call someone.” I watched her flipping through pages here and there like an expert, realizing that I wouldn’t be able to use it. Realizing that the world had kept turning and left me behind. Time waits for no one and I was a perfect example.
“Isn’t there a real phone in this building somewhere? One that connects to the wall with a wire and a dial?”
She giggled again as she responded.
“There must be a hundred desk phones at least, but trust me, you will need a cell phone. Say you suddenly wanted to order a pizza, all you need to do is open the browser here, search for “Thick -N-Spicy and there you have it. The closest location is three kilometers away and you just press on their number to call them.”
“Why can’t I just open the phone book and look?”
“I don’t think we actually have a phone book. Trust me, in a few days you will thank me. You might even wonder how you lived without one.” Smiling, she whispered “I really must join the party. Take it, even if you don’t use it I’ll feel better if I can call you. The city has changed a lot since you were here.”
Through the glass I watched her reflection walk away, vanishing into the crowd of strangers. Most had hope in their eyes, but I knew they were placing their faith in the wrong man. Hope, like love, is just an illusion fools try and hold onto in order to convince themselves that their life will get better. To find meaning in their fruitless existence. I kept playing with the new, mysterious cell phone. There were so many little colored pictures and options that I started to wonder if this mechanical wonder would make the world a better place or become slaves to it. A flashing circular picture of a newspaper that read “Breaking News” caught my attention. I pressed my finger against it and a small page opened up, filling the screen. In bold letters it stated, “24 sailors found dead.” I wasn’t shocked by it and reading the report I knew that they had it all wrong.
One thing caught my attention more, though. Something unexpected that caught me completely off guard. Another headline read “Second massacre in Essex county history happens within a twelve-month period of the last one.” I scanned the rest of the story below, “Police believe that the most recent attack may be related to the brutal death of business man Nathanial Barthélémy.” It had never occurred to me to ask how Nathanial died. I had assumed that it was something natural. I had further assumed that he had fallen victim to a human death, like a heart attack, or a car accident. Potentially even suicide, given his risk for survivors’ remorse. It seemed to me that in many such cases, those that had survived were always consumed by overwhelming guilt for being the ones who survived. Leave it to my baby brother to go out and get his ass murdered.