Chapter Seventeen
Catherine
It's hot and I'm sweating, but I smile as he extends his hand, some of his blonde hair flipping onto his forehead. "Hi! I'm Lucas." I see Peter's icy glaze, his white eyeballs piercing into the person in front of me. I ignore it, smiling at his supposed jealousy, and shake Lucas's hand.
"Catherine," I say, "Peter and I are together." just to make it clear. Once again, I feel Peter's eyes turn a funny shade of purple- a color I've seen before- and laugh hysterically inside. I pull out my hand and face Lucas. He seems pretty Okay about it, as I thought he would. Poor Peter has a habit of thinking everyone's in love with me.
As I see Albert coming out of the door, now having introduced himself and his powers, I corner him, explaining and threatening him to contact Ester once more.
I look up in the middle of our conversation to see Max and Peter standing opposite of each other, Max's slightly taller frame holding back, his dark skin barely noticeable in the light.
Peter's eyes turn a ferocious shade of orange and with each second get more and more like red.
I step ahead, ready to interrupt, wishing I could read what was going on in his head.
And then surprisingly, Peter's light arms fall around Max's waist, as did Max's almost as if the past had never taken place, almost like best friends again, seeping bravery and comfort from each other.
How safe is this- their friendship just the same even after all that happened? Or maybe it's just me. Maybe it's because Max shot me.
Ester is waiting for us impatiently on the other side of the grass, waving like a maniac. We break into a run, sprinting through the darkness of the morning, hours away from sunrise, a little bit of the weight each of us carried, falling delicately off our shoulders- or so it felt, at least to me.
But as we try to fit into Peter's car, I notice another small, unnecessary issue climbing quietly up Peter's back: Lucas Royce. And probably me. I squeeze his hand, which is still in mine, and lean against his shoulder, in a way to signal to him, that for me, there was only one, only him, and that he doesn't need to worry about something this insignificant and ludicrous, but it only managed to delay the climbing worry.
I sigh, annoyed.
-
We reach home in forty-two minutes to be exact. The boys get out slowly, taking their time. Peter, Ester, and I walk ahead comfortably. The lights are dimly visible from the porch. A silhouette of two shadows is seen seated on the chairs at the table leaning forward as if in deep conversation. So like Mum and Dad!
I bump my nose into Peter, who is walking in front of me. "Ouch." I say, stepping back and rubbing my nose, "Why'd you stop, Peter?" Not getting any reply, I join him ahead. And I freeze, scared stiff.
The main door is left slightly ajar.
Fear hits me hard, as if my soul has just floated right out of my body. I lean unconsciously on Peter. Then, another thought sends a bolt of electricity through me, my body jumps ahead, alert, my gun in my arms, I throw open the door and run in. The sight in front of me causes me to drop down onto my knees, falling onto the floor.
No.
No.
No!
No. It can't be.
-
I feel like everything has fallen apart. The few drops of joy I felt less than an hour back disappears suddenly, to be replaced by permanent doom, by permanent failure- hopelessness.
It was stupid of us to have not thought about this, but in the excitement of our first heist, I had forgotten about my family, about my parents and this is the land I would now lay waste in forever.
At first no tears fall out of my eyes. There is no pain- only emptiness- as if my life had been sucked out of me. No amount of consolation, no words, no kind gestures- from anyone- can take this away. This is my fault. I forgot about them. I forgot about the people who made me, loved me, took care of me. I forgot them. I let the thought sink in unfairly.
I slam my upheld body to the floor, steps away from the doorframe. My fault. Tears stream out uncontrollably as my face bangs onto the floor, a protective hand shielding it, making the fall cushiony. I don't deserve this kindness. I deserve pain. Shocked voices. People running in, not touching the crime scene, standing aimlessly next to them whispering whispering whispering.
I deserve pain. Demanding memories rip out of my eyes and fall onto the ground like a running tap. My mouth hangs open like a gaping fish. My eyes weaken to emotion. My fault. I remind myself.
Another voice-soothing, careful, as if holding back- speaks to me, "Cathy, Cathy, I'm right here...Cathy...." I block it out. One strong, able hand hangs itself over me and pulls me towards it. "Hey, hey, we're going to get through this...." Peter. No, don't be so benevolent. Hit me. Hurt me.
"We're going to figure this out okay, Cat?" Cat. My parents used to call me Cat. I throw myself onto his chest, the terror of what was happening wrapping itself around me endlessly, like wrapping a child in a long piece of cloth while playing dress up. I thrust myself onto Peter, sobbing like a baffled, newborn baby.
-
The nightmare goes on for hours; the sky turns brighter, the sun comes out slowly but nothing else changes inside. My tears are gone now, replaced by empty looks and blank, clueless stares.
They cleared the bodies- the police would have been of no help for this- and are now seated in a circle around the table, ten of us altogether. I take a good inspection of the seven new boys and a man that have entered our group, trying to make sure I know all their names and powers: Lucas, Kabir, William, Oliver, Harry, Albert and Max- though him I know from before.
We each have a bowl of cornflakes and milk in our hands and apart from Peter and I, the rest of them gobble it up guiltily.
A surge of anger uproots suddenly and my hands clench the vessel in my palms, my focus hard on the milk sloshing around joyfully, and the flakes mixing with them in a most atrocious manner. I feel a cool hand placed on my shoulder from the other side of where Peter is seated.
"You okay?" Lucas asks. I know he means it well, his eyes show so too, but what kind of smartass person would ask someone if someone was okay right after her parents were brutally murdered and strangled- left tied to a chair?
I flinch at this touch. "Get your hand off me." my voice sounds cool, and if my pupils could change color like Peters, I would look like a devil with white eyes. He takes his hand away. I growl.
Peter turns towards me cautiously, "let it out now, Cat."
My frowning expression fails, replaced with a blank note once more, "My parents called me Cat. My parents were my only family apart from Aunt Elle and she lived with ten cats in a forest somewhere in India." I sigh. A little thought tingles at the back of my mind.
Peter laughs gently. "Well, I'm more of a dog person, but I'd really like to meet her, you know."
I allow a small smile to show itself on my face. "Yeah, me too."
A moment passes.
"It's not Igetis." Someone says from the other side of the room. "I'm sure it's not."
"Not now, Richard," says Peter, gesturing to him to wait.
No, it has to be now. We need to find out who- or what- left my parents in this miserable condition. And surprisingly, I agree with Richard, it can't be Igetis, not because I trust him, but because Igetis is working with Countess Eliza, and as much as I hate her, I know for sure that she would never even think of doing something like this.
I speak up, "No, he's right. We need to know what this." I put down my cereal below me on the floor, "We know for sure it's not Igetis," I spare them the reason, "but then who is it?"
William shuffles a little on his seat and then says, "Catherine, Peter, while we were there, I heard some experimental noises from above us."
"Above where? You'll were well above a hundred feet below ground level." I argue, trying to get back to the topic at hand.
"Exceptional hearing, higher level," he said, and continued, "there were people talking, and occasionally, when these men were keeping quiet, I would hear them say things like Tetrakinita, and Peter, and blood samples, and tests. Once I even overheard a full conversation between two scientists."
"Wait. Scientists?" I interject, "so the drink you'll take in your, um... Ceremony... it's a mixture of chemicals created by humans and on being introduced to the human body can give people superpowers?"
"Heavens, girl! No! I have no idea what the drink includes. These guys were talking about how they have to keep Peter safe. They spoke about some other dude with four powers and how he died just when they got him to help them and some more nonsense of that sort."
"William." Peter says sternly, leaning ahead a little, "If these guys wanted to keep me safe, for whatever reason, then why would they send you guys- and an army of men- to harm me?"
Silence. A tiny boy with spectacles sitting next to William, Oliver, cowers his head. Their exactly opposite body types looked funny as they are seated beside each: William with his sturdy, big built, his huge muscles popping out of his arms, his black hair slicked back, and this nerdy little guy, large glasses, plain figure, he might blow away in a little wind. I turn red, embarrassed at myself for thinking something so rude.
I pull back into the circle. The nerdy boy then lifts his head up slowly, as if contemplating what he is going to say.
"Go on Oliver. What is it?" Albert asks. Right, he can read minds. "I agree with what you're thinking- and I'm sure the others might find it sensible too."
Oliver starts, stuttering a little, "Well, seeing that they were doing some experiments, and that they had locked us up- even though we were helping them by beating you up," he corrects himself, "trying to beat you up."
Peter smiles. Oliver smiles back wearingly, as if he is scared that Peter might jump at him at any time. He goes on, "My best answer, and probably the only one, is that they wanted your blood. And not in the metaphoric way." I find myself nodding in agreement. It makes sense. With a renewed sense of confidence, Oliver advances, "They spoke about how to keep Peter safe. His blood is precious."
"That's true," Peter agrees, "the first Tetrakinita died suddenly too. And both- To Sotos and Oi Alloi- needed his help. There's someone else- something else, that's in on this. We have to figure out who- and fast. Because these guys know where we are, when we are there, and what we're doing for almost every second of the day." He stops, disappointed. I reflect his feelings unwillingly.
"Well boys, now we know what to do." Twelve pairs of eyes bear into Ester's face jokingly. He rolls his eyes, "We find 'em and we kill 'em." We look away in disgrace.
Lucas motions towards Ester, looking straight at Peter and me, "Why is he here anyways?"
I turn rigid. Peter never stands anyone opposing him this openly, even after their entire childhood and everything they've been through, Ester is still the one that raised him, that gave him food to eat. Being a human is so confusing. How can you hate someone and love them too?
The person asking him this question being Lucas is like frosting on cake. His stare turns grey, his eyes flash scaringly. "He is here because I say so. Without him, you would never be here. Probably starving in prison. Though I have wondered since the second you came, why you are here. The only thing you seem to be doing is flirting with my girlfriend. So why don't you just go?" He hasn't really, but I don't say anything; I know that there is more to Peter's words.
I also know that Peter does care for Ester.
"Well, I would, but you guys need me."
"Right. And why?"
"Cause I know who did this." I frown, intrigued by his lies.
"No, of course you do. Might be your gang- who knows."
"Watch your words."
"Oh I am. I'm paying very close attention." They continue spitting at each other, Peter's eyes on fire, his palms clenched. He doesn't want to start this fight. All of us at the table know that Lucas is nothing compared to Peter in a fight- all of us combined would be nothing compared to Peter, though obviously it would never get to that- right?
Lucas throws his fist across Peter's face, but gets blocked effortlessly. "I don't want to fight you, Lucas." Peter manages to say, his teeth clenched together, his hatred for Lucas slowly losing against his Want to fight him.
Lucas tries to punch him once more, again he fails. Peter won't hold it in for much longer. None of the men in the circle seemed ready to do anything; either sitting still or silently licking the milk off their spoons. What do I do? I get onto my feet hurriedly and turn towards Lucas, my back to Peter.
"STOP." What Peter had said was true: Lucas hasn't been much help lately- but that doesn't mean he wouldn't be in the future. "We all know who's going to win this fight." He twitches. I don't stutter. "So, stop acting so stuck-up and tell us what you know and for heaven's sake hurry up."
He seems to understand we have the upper hand right now and settles down, nodding. I turn to Peter. There is nothing to be said. He steps a little closer to me, taking my elbows in his hands and whispers, "Cat..." I let myself fall into his voice, his arms. His face digs into my shoulder. My face stuffed on his shoulder, my arms around him.
"I wish..." I begin, but stop as he interrupts.
"Don't." he murmurs, breaking my statement, "I know, I wish for it too. But it's, it's not possible right now."
"I know. It's okay."
"I'm sorry it had to be this way."
"I miss them."
He pulls me closer. "I miss them too, my mom, my sister, your parents, but I have you."
And for some time, all is forgotten; my parents' death, Igetis, Countess Eliza, the wolf-whistling in the room, everything. The only thing that exists is us.
And for me, right now, it is enough.