Beginning of Secrets

What Ever Happened to Him?

               

Bright lights, throbbing head, bile resting in the back of his throat, Carvington snapped his eyes open gasping for air. He gripped his aching sides as he realized he was lying down. Bitter blood rested in his cheeks, but the warm cloth temporarily distracted him from the revolting taste in his mouth. He was in a bed. Looking around, he took in the simple room he was in. Decorated with a few paintings and plants, a carpeted floor, an oak dresser sitting in front of the foot of the bed, sitting right next to an open door.

"You okay?"

Carvington jumped at the voice. He let out a groan as he curled up against himself, waves of pain washing through his body. "No," he croaked.

"I'll go get my mom," the voice said. It all came back to him

"Drake," Carvington said.

Drake stopped at the foot of the bed. "Yeah?" the tall boy asked. He was out of his usual school outfit and instead wore loose sweatpants and a cotton tank.

"Why were you watching me sleep?" Carvington asked, forcing himself to sit up. The simple movement felt like torture.

Drake giggled. "You're a bit of a screamer," Drake said, tapping the mattress. "Scared the hell out of me."

"Oh," Carvington said, recalling his dream. "Sorry."

"It's good," Drake said, giving him a reassuring smile. "I'll get my mom. She's been dying to talk to you since we picked you up from the hospital." He stretched an arm behind his head, yawning. "What even happened to you anyway? You were knocked out by the time you got in the car."

Carvington froze, blinking at Drake. What happened? He could barely believe it himself.

"He got hit by a car," Mrs. Petrov said, entering the room. Her accent was not as thick as Carvington's as she had been here much longer than him, but it was still noticeable. She smiled at Carvington greeting him. "Dobraye ootro."

"Dobraye ootro," he repeated back, relieved that he was able to speak in his native tongue.

"Drake," she said. Wrapping, her fleece blanket across her body. "Go study." Drake bit his lip and left the room, knowing better than to question his mother.

"What happened," she asked in Russian as her son left the room.

Carvington gave her a pointed look as he watched Drake walk down the hall.

"He doesn't understand," she said in Russian.

Carvington nodded, rubbing his bruised arms. "We have a problem."

"What is it?"

Carvington thought of his dream. He couldn't get the man's face out of his mind. "A threat. A man that has come to take him."

Her eyes widened in shock as she moved to the side of his bed. "He's the one who hurt you?"

He nodded. "Yes. He is one of us, but he is marked."

The woman frowned in concentration, sitting at a chair at the desk in the corner of the room. "Then, he is not a threat to him?"

"No," Carvington said simply, his tone dark. "He's marked. He will go as far as his body will allow him to."

She nodded, studying his bruised body. "What did he use to poison you?"

Carvington took the time to study his body as well. "It's foreign to me. Perhaps, a creation of his master."

"It has halted your healing process."

"Yes."

Mrs. Petrov pushed her dark shoulder-length hair from her brown eyes. "Does he know we're here?"

Carvington shrugged, immediately regretting the action as he gritted his teeth. "I don't think so. He said he needed me out of the way. I don't think he even knows you're here."

Mrs. Petrov let out a sigh of relief. Her husband and son were safe.

"What should I do? What if he comes back and tries to kill me?"

"I can give you some weapons to help-"

"No." Carvington shivered as he remembered the fight. "I can not win against him. He is far more skilled than me. I might die the next time I see him. It is a miracle he left me alive."

Mrs. Petrov gasped as a thought struck her. "Do you think he has already taken him?"

Carvington paused at the question. Had he failed? Would he be stuck here alone forever? "No. I won't let him."

"Joseph-"

"No! Lucas is still here. He's my only way back home." He chocked back a tear. "Maconn won't let me back home without him."

Mrs. Petrov watched the young man with sympathetic eyes. She heard about Maconn. That alone made her heartbreak. "Are you hungry?"

Carvington's stomach roared in response. "Yes," he said sheepishly.

"I'll make you some porridge." She rose to her feet, heading for the door.

"Should I do nothing?" Carvington asked, stopping the woman in her tracks.

"Recovering is not an easy feat. You can't protect anyone in your condition."

Carvington nodded. He watched Mrs. Petrov stand there for a moment. "Drake will help you around school. Your injuries won't be fully healed for at least a week."

"I know, but-"

"You must protect him, and return him. My family is here. Lucas is your only way back home."