From the Ashes |18+| ✔️

36: Solomon

Jessaphina

The moment I burst through the opening of what I thought was Kyrios' home, I ended up in the one place I least expected.

Father's office.

Of course, at this point, I realize two things: One, I'm lost deep within my fucking mind - and Goddess only knows where my Earthbound body resides - and two, Father was well indeed Porteous all along, but why? Why would he masquerade about, insisting I call him that, along with how many others? Stepping further into the room, a hint of old worn leather mixed with burning tobacco twitches my nose. My eyes focus on the thin ribbon of white smoke threading its way through the air.

"You shouldn't be in here," the deep voice startles me. Turning, I recognize the last face I ever thought I'd see in this place; only he's looking at something else. My eyes drift in the direction to spot a young boy dressed in dirty, tattered clothing. His dark chocolate brown curly hair and bright baby blue eyes are somewhat familiar as I try to place where I know him from. "Your father would have your head... and mine!" the shifter teases as he ruffles the kid's head playfully. "Come, before he returns," he nods toward the cigar left burning, a sure indicator Porteous is not too far away.

"Alright," huffs the child as he stands with an adorable pout. Folding his arms over his chest, he leads the way out of the room as I trail behind them. "Don't tell Mother. She doesn't like when I hide in Father's office. I will be punished again," he looks way up with watery, pleading eyes.

"Why were you hiding in the first place?" the gentle tone has the boy frowning and scratching at his head. They stop as the older of the two quickly inspects the child's scalp. "Lice... still," he looks away and snickers. "Answer me, boy," he voices more firmly.

"Mother has insistent that I do more testing. She's convinced I'm special," he pouts with another huff. "I'm not! It hurts, all of it does," he complains. "Don't tell her, please?" he pleads again with heartbreaking, tear-filled eyes.

The shifter smiles his easy grin while resting his hand on the boy's shoulder. "I will not, so long as you promise never to go in there again, Solomon. This place is no place for a young child to play. You should be with the other children."

Solomon. My smile spreads in wonderment and confusion.

"The children are all dead, Tomaso," he sulks again and kicks his very worn sneaker against the drab, stained wall. The lighting is sparse and flickering, playing tricks on the eyes as we continue down the long, dingy corridor. Not a person in sight, no sound aside from the squeak of Solomon's rubber soles colliding with the polished synthetic, chipped flooring as they walk.

"How? When?" the Alpha questions with shock. The little boy continues to run his dirty little finger along the wall and shrugs.

"Father told us all the human children didn't survive the plague. Did you bring me an apple?" he asks with hope. "You said you would last time—"

"What plague Solly?" I watch the shifter pull a bright red apple from inside his jacket. The little boy's face lights right up before he sinks his front-toothless mouth around the flesh. The crunch echoes throughout the hallway as the juicy goodness sprays outward and down Solomon's chin, bringing the collected dirt with it. A smile brightens my face as I watch him laugh and munch away. "Solly? The plague," the patient man calmly asks as we scamper down the abandoned corridor.

"Dunno?" he shrugs again after swallowing his bite. "Lots got sick and never came back from the lab. Only half-breeds and hybrids are left, and Mother will not let me play with them. I hate this place, the food is yucky, and the air smells like rotten cabbage. I have no friends, and there's nothing to do. I want to go above ground, Tommy. I want to be with you."