Imposter

Chapter 40

Wesley traveled only by night after he passed through the town of dead people, afraid of being seen by anyone he passed by. They would be just as frightened of him, only their fear would lead them to hurt him.

He didn't want to leave a trail of dead bodies in his wake, and so Wesley traveled under the cover of the moon, sticking to unused trails and paths through the trees.

And even as he headed towards his childhood hometown, he couldn't help but wonder maybe it was all in vain.

He was broken and hideous now. No one would want him. His own family had kicked him out.

Wesley had had weeks alone with his own thoughts, and he tried desperately to cling to the edge of the chasm that separated him from his own self-hate.

His very touch killed people. He would never have the liberty of a hug again. He would never get to tousle his little brother's hair or exchange a playful punch on the shoulder with a friend. He would never get to run his fingers through the soft coat of a cat, or ride bareback through the meadows.

He was confined to a life of look, don't touch.

And even then, his eyesight would never be what it once was with only one good eye.

Wesley stopped walking for a moment, a weight crushing his heart. His hand curled weakly around his walking cane, a warm droplet sliding down his scarred face.

It was a good thing he had come by night.

Maybe Nixen would not immediately see what had become of him, and he could have a family again.

When Wesley reached the house his cousin lived in with his uncle, he hesitated.

It didn't look like anyone was awake.

Wesley rapped on the door once, more like a gentle brush with his knuckles.

Just when he was about to turn away, the door creaked open.

"Who's there?" a wary voice questioned from within.

"Travis?" Wesley tried to swallow around the lump in his throat. "I. . .it's Wesley. I came to see if Nixen is still living here."

"Nixen?" Travis scoffed. "The boy took off years ago. I have no clue where he is now."

"Oh." Wesley raised his trembling hand to his face, letting the sleeve of his cloak dry his tears. "I'm sorry for bothering you."

"No, no, you're not bothering me." Travis sounded curious now. "Come on in—are you okay?"

"I. . .had an accident," Wesley said before he turned around. "I need a place to stay."

"Come in," the man urged. "You're welcome to stay with me."

Wesley swallowed hard and slowly turned around to face Travis, waiting for his reaction.

Various emotions flashed across his face. Terror, revulsion, fear, disgust, and. . .curiosity.

"Well, that doesn't look good," he joked, but he looked ill.

Travis was a tall, tan man, with broad shoulders and sea-green hair that fell to his shoulders. He had a strong jawline and an easy smile.

"I don't have anyone," Wesley said, hoping to appease to his kind nature. "I have nowhere to go."

"Nonsense," Travis said gently, beckoning him in, a calculating look in his eyes. "You're always welcome here, for as long as you need to stay."

When the door clicked shut behind him, Wesley couldn't help but feel damned.

********

"Do you mind telling me how. . .that happened?" Travis asked over breakfast the next morning.

Wesley let the porridge drip off his spoon, frowning. "I'm not sure you're ready to hear that story."

"What of your parents?"

They hate me now. "They wanted me gone," he said instead. "What about Nix?"

"Ungrateful bitch took off years ago," Travis said, his voice bitter. "If it wasn't for me, he would have grown up on the streets and he repays me by taking off in the middle of the night."

Wesley didn't look at his uncle. "He came to us one day," he said carefully. "Told us things. Things about you and him."

Travis snorted. "The boy was always trying to drag my name through the mud. I never touched him."

"What about the bruises then?"

Wesley remembered the bruises. On Nixen's upper arms, his cheeks, his shoulders.

"He was always seeking attention. He did it to himself—I caught him in the act half of the time." Travis shook his head. "Nixen was sick, Wesley."

"I don't remember him that way."

"You were both kids," Travis said gently. "You just so happened to be. . .less problematic."

Wesley cleared his throat, running his spoon through the porridge. "I don't remember him that way."

"Yeah, well, he took off one night and never said goodbye," Travis said stiffly. "If I cared, I would find him and make him pay me back for everything."

"He was a kid. He didn't have to pay you back for anything. It was your job to take care of him."

Travis laughed, shaking his head. "Come back to me when you have a child just like him. When he got older, he just fought me too much."

Wesley's stomach turned over, and he pushed the bowl away from him. "I won't be here long," he said. "I thank you for your kindness."

"My pleasure," Travis said pleasantly. "It will be nice having a young one in the house again—it's been far too quiet since Nixen left."

********

When they stopped for rest two days later, Retha built a campfire and handed out sleeping bags to everyone.

Mason settled down away from the fire, away from everyone else, and Karel could just barely make out the form his back turned to them.

Sleeping bag under one arm, Karel walked over to him and silently rolled the bag out next to him.

"The fuck do you want?"

"Thought you might want company," Karel said with a shrug.

Mason rolled over, narrowing his eyes. "Doubtful."

"I know you're not fond of Retha," Karel said quietly, kneeling down next to him. "What are the chances of you and me escaping and going back to Kor?"

"Very poor, and very unlikely." Mason bit the pad of his thumb, looking towards the group huddled around the fire. "You'll just have to wait this thing out."

"I need to go back to Viviane," Karel insisted. "You don't understand—"

He trailed off when he realized Mason wasn't listening. He followed his gaze and found it fell upon the strange girl, Alicia.

"That's interesting," he said.

Mason snapped out of his daze. "Go to sleep," he said, laying back down. "Retha's not letting us go anywhere."

"Viviane might be in danger," Karel said. "I have to go back."

"If you go back, you'll only put her in danger. If Retha thinks she's causing you to not cooperate, she'll cut her down."

"She wouldn't—"

"She would," Mason said with cold finality. "I know her better than anyone. You're better off waiting this out."

Except he might not have that kind of time.