Theron's last stop was a fast food joint close to midnight. He'd made it to the northwest edge of the city and would venture back into the fields to sleep, but first, he had to check his email.
He was running out of cash. He bought a burger and ate it slowly while anticipating a new message—and there it was. The reply from idav1997. Theron opened the email and devoured the words,
You have been invited to chat! Click the link below and register an account at ...
He frowned. The link was a string of letters and digits leading to a video chat website. It definitely looked like spam, but he had to trust her. Theron clicked it and registered using his fake email address, then accepted the pre-delivered friend request from a user named idav1997. He sent a request for a video chat and a new page opened displaying two windows: one black, and one with the front camera on him. He looked like shit. Annoyed, he dug a string of earbuds out of his bag and plugged in.
With the phone propped up against his drink, Theron leaned back and savored bite after bite. When he ran out of burger, he held the phone and sipped his drink, delaying for as long as possible. The restaurant employees started eyeballing him after thirty minutes. It was late and he started to doubt anything would come of it—then the second window came to life in a jumble of digital static.
She appeared out of flickering pixels, the heart-shaped face of a wizened woman framed by black hair, wrinkles sprawling under her eyes, her grey-rimmed glasses sitting halfway down her nose. Theron sat up, clutching his phone and avoiding the curiosity of the employees. Imogen squinted at the screen and smiled. "There you are. I was worried what those hunters might've done to my boy."
The warmth in her voice was unlike anything he'd ever heard, except maybe twelve years ago. She was warmer than when he spoke with her before. She was smiling. Wearing a white knit turtleneck, illuminated in a warm yellow light against a wood plank backdrop, Imogen looked like she was sitting within a memory herself. A memory of somewhere comfortable and pastoral and home, a place he'd never been—it was more of a feeling, anyway. Theron swallowed. "Were you really?"
Imogen's eyebrows rose. "Yes, of course! They can't afford to be gentle. I heard that they shot you."
Theron drank in the sight of her, her face in the video in real time. "They did. In the calf. But I got the bullet out," he said quietly, glancing up at his observers. "They shot Sadie too in the arm."
"Are you with her?"
"No. I saw her today... she hates my guts."
"My baby boy," Imogen said sympathetically. "I'm sorry. I wish I could be there to help you."
He bloomed in his chest. Theron ached for somebody to understand him, forgive him, accept him, guide him, help him. Nobody except Kitra earnestly wanted to—even Liam had been lying to him and taking advantage of Theron's vulnerability. But here was his mother now, extending her poisoned sympathy that turned him into her little monster. It was the only sympathy anybody gave him. He couldn't help but gobble it up.
"I really need help right now," he said tiredly.
"Tell me everything."
Theron closed his eyes, rubbing his temple. "I don't think I can. I'm the only person sitting in this place."
"Then let's just chat. You can email me if it's easier."
"Okay." Yeah, probably. He risked having another mental break if he said everything wrong out loud. Theron breathed and watched his mother. "Where are you?"
Her eyes lifted. "I'm sitting outside my cabin. It's very quiet out here. I'm surrounded by trees and stars," she said, turning her laptop to show her surroundings. She sat on the porch of a rustic cottage lit up by a porch light and an electric lantern, her old green plastic chair backed with a pink cushion, windchimes hanging still and silent from the awning. Beyond, the sky was dark and the shadowy silhouettes of trees churned with digital artifacts. "In the daylight, I'll show you more. I think you'd really like it out here."
"I'd like to see it," he said. But he didn't know if he'd like it. It was too far away from everyone he loved and everything he knew. He'd just stay lonely up there.
"How's Kitra?" asked Imogen.
"She's doing a hell of a lot better than me. They're finally letting her be involved with the pack."
"Aren't you worried about endangering her?"
"I didn't really want it. But she did, so I'm trying to support her. Besides, she has that medication you send over," said Theron.
"That's right. How often does she use the lupokitene?"
"I don't know. Every time she thinks she might get bit, probably."
"Does anybody else use it?"
"No."
"Good," said Imogen. "It could have undesirable side effects on Dire individuals."
"Like what?"
Imogen chewed her cheek. "It could force your body out of the Dire state if too much of it enters your bloodstream. A very unpleasant experience, I imagine."
"Is that what the hunters tried to do to me?" Theron remembered the needle in his arm. The tingle it left behind, even without injecting much before he'd knocked it away.
"If they tried to give you a dose of something, it was most likely lupokitene. Agency operatives use it to sustain the human form. It's also a preventative medication to treat the Dire infection," explained Imogen.
"Is it safe for Kitra?"
"Yes. Don't worry."
Theron sighed. He'd never heard of anything being able to do that to a Dire before. "Where do you get it from?"
"As a high-level employee of Castor & Holloway working in a high-risk environment, I receive regular prescriptions of lupokitene. I send Kitra some from my own stock."
"But what about you? Don't you need it?"
"No. You could say I have a bit of a tolerance to the Dire state," said Imogen, laughing behind her lips.
He wanted to ask about that and her work and a million other things. He just wanted to talk to her. He could almost feel normal again talking to somebody who didn't detest him or wasn't trying to hunt him. Theron smiled too, his laugh weak in his lungs but quickly sobering. "Would you have stayed if you were one?" he dared to ask.
Imogen's expression softened too. "Theron... You know the situation was more complicated than that."
His shoulders sagged. "It was just a thought."
"I appreciate that you're thinking of me. I think about you and your sister a lot too."
He didn't want this conversation to end but the restaurant workers were closing up for the night. "I'll be able to talk to you again, right?"
"Of course. Let's plan another call right now."
They decided to talk tomorrow afternoon. There was free Wi-Fi at the Forks, a public space in the heart of the city, and much more space for the privacy he needed. Besides, Theron was getting tired. "I'll call you tomorrow," he said.
"Goodnight, Theron," spoke his mother.
It plucked something nestled deep inside him. He met her grey eyes and smiled dimly. "Goodnight."
Theron left before they kicked him out. He found a growth of trees that gave cover to sleep overnight, but not without sifting through his bag first. The old film photos gleamed in the moonlight. Even in the night, her eyes back then matched Theron and Kitra: cool, watery blue.
What happened to her since she left her family behind?
YOU ARE READING
BLOOD DREAM (Ongoing)
Paranormal24-year-old Theron was the spoiled brat son of a wolf shifter Alpha--until his fated mate, a puma shifter named Sadie, murdered his father. As the consequences of his abusive behavior, Theron lost his friends, girlfriend, and the respect of his pack...
