A Touch of Truth Read online

  Maura scowled as she glanced at her pale self in the slightly discolored bathroom mirror. “Just put her out of her misery, will you, Orlando?” she muttered.

  Orlando exited the bathroom and first headed to the cabinet, which he drew open. He pulled out some fresh clothes—clean navy blue pants and a baggy t-shirt—before deigning to answer me while he dressed.

  “I assume that you have picked up on our names by now,” he said, eyeing me furtively. “I am Orlando, and this is my younger sister, Maura.”

  “Good to meet you,” I said, heaving an internal sigh of relief that he was finally beginning an explanation. “I’m Grace,” I offered. I would’ve moved forward to hold out a hand for him to shake, but he had turned his back on me again and was continuing to fish through the cabinet. “Thank you for not leaving me down in that drain and for bringing me with you.”

  “And as for your other question,” Orlando went on, selecting a sweater and pulling it over himself, “yes, it was the two of us who found you in the river and took you up to our old place.”

  “Your old place?”

  “Yes.” He sighed, and took a seat in one of the chairs. “We used to live in that loft before we managed to set up in this more secure one.”

  “Why did you save me?” I asked.

  He shrugged, nonchalant. He reached down beneath the table and grabbed a bottle of water before twisting open its lid and taking a swig. “Honestly, it was an accident really. You bumped right into our boat.”

  “A boat?”

  “You clearly need to explain everything to her.” Maura spoke up from the bathroom. “She’s obviously not from these parts.”

  Orlando leaned backward in his seat. He settled his left foot—also nailless—over his right knee and began to massage it absentmindedly as he replied, “We go fishing in that river from time to time for useful objects. You’d be surprised at the type of things people on that side of the river throw away… Something hit against the base of our boat. We thought that we might have collided with some kind of furniture or something. Turns out it was you. Since we had already hauled you out of the river, we figured we ought to help you. We thought that you were human at first—but we couldn’t be sure, of course. We managed to break off the handcuffs, and then decided to put you up in our old loft where we could observe you for a while, to see whether you were safe or not… Maura was the one who dried you,” he added.

  I glanced at Maura with renewed appreciation. “Thank you,” I said to her. She kept her back to me as she stood in front of the sink in the bathroom and didn’t acknowledge my words. “So you were watching over me?” I directed my question at Orlando.

  He nodded. “We were waiting for you to regain consciousness to see what you would do. We were hanging out on the lower floor for a while.”

  I thought back to the shadow that had spooked me in the doorway, soon after I had left the loft. Had that been them, watching me silently? I had peeked into that room but, truth be told, I had been too scared to search it thoroughly. It was possible that they had ducked behind some desks, and I had missed spotting them as I had scanned the room.

  “Then you decided to wander around,” Orlando continued, “and we followed you. When you headed right for the basement and got yourself into such a mess, it was immediately obvious that you were—are—clueless, and so probably also harmless… which was the only reason we followed you down into that drain to help you.”

  “I’m still wondering if that was a mistake,” Maura added. “You had better hope that you don’t turn.”

  I swallowed hard at her words. Yeah. You and me both, girl.

  “How did you transport me from the river up to that loft?” I asked.

  “We couldn’t glide with you unconscious, so we had to travel by foot,” Orlando explained. “We had to use our wheel to slay a bunch of Bloodless on the way. You’re very lucky that we didn’t come across any large groups. If we had, we would’ve abandoned you to save our skin.”

  I flinched at the blunt honesty of this young man. Though, in a way, it was refreshing. I was a complete and utter stranger to them—obviously, their lives were more valuable to them than mine. Who wouldn’t abandon a stranger whom you owed nothing to, if it meant saving your life? Maybe some valiant residents of The Shade, but not ordinary people.

  Maura stepped out of the bathroom and set her focus on me. “Who are you, and where did you come from? Why were you in handcuffs? Are you a criminal?”

  “I’m not a criminal,” I replied. Though that would depend on who you asked. The IBSI would certainly brand me as one. “I am a Novak, from The Shade. Have you heard of it?”

  They both looked at me blankly. “The Shade? What’s that?”

  “It’s an island in the Pacific Ocean—home to a myriad of supernaturals and humans. Though it’s invisible, and only those with express permission are able to enter.”

  “Never heard of it,” Orlando said.

  It was strange to think that there were still folks who didn’t know about The Shade. Over the years, more and more people had found out about it—I’d thought that its existence had pretty much infiltrated public consciousness by now.

  “Where exactly are you from, then?” I asked.

  “Manhattan,” Orlando replied.

  Manhattan. That was where my mom was from.

  “You might as well say jail,” Maura added with a bitter smile, as she took a seat next to her brother.

  I raised my brows. “Jail?”

  “Yes,” Maura replied. “We were in jail before we got brought… here.”

  “Why were you in jail? Who brought you here?”

  “Start at the beginning, Orlando,” Maura muttered as she stooped for a can of lentils and cracked it open.

  “All right, well…” Orlando began. “The side of Manhattan where we come from is a hellhole—or at least it was the last time we were free to roam the streets. Which was, I guess, over a year ago now. We were living with our dad, since our mom passed away when we were kids. But then one night he disappeared… God knows what happened to him. ” His eyes glazed over at the memory. He fell silent and somber for several moments before continuing. “After he was gone, we were left to fend for ourselves. And, well…” Here, he shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “I’m not gonna sugarcoat it. We resorted to theft. It was the fastest, easiest way to put food in our stomachs twice a day… at least until we got caught and locked away.”

  “Jobs aren’t exactly abundant where we come from,” Maura added darkly. “Not that that’s an excuse for stealing, I guess… But if you’ve stolen once, it’s all too easy to do it again.”

  It was hard to tell from the siblings’ expressions whether they were remorseful or not. The way they recounted the story was matter-of-fact, without a lot of emotion inserted into it.

  “Anyway,” Orlando continued. “We did a bunch of short terms in jail, since we weren’t about to give up the habit. But then we got into a crapload of trouble. We underestimated one old grocery store keeper…”

  “Almost blew our heads off,” Maura said, grimacing.

  They both fell silent.

  “And?” I prompted.

  Their gazes shifted uncomfortably to each other before Orlando confessed, “Well, we ended up committing manslaughter.”

  I gulped.

  Who have I gotten myself holed up with?

  These siblings are murderers.

  Orlando cleared his throat. “We got caught again. This time, obviously, we were in much hotter water… Ended up getting the death penalty, the two of us.”

  “Death penalty?” I asked. Though I shouldn’t have been surprised. The government was so low on resources due to various supernatural crises that they now sentenced people to quick execution for all kinds of crimes.

  Orlando nodded.

  “So, uh, how did you end up here?” I pressed.

  “It all started on a Tuesday, if I remember right,” Orlando replied.

  “It was a T
uesday,” Maura confirmed, leaning back in her chair and stretching out her arms and legs.

  “A Tuesday. But we can’t say how long ago,” Orlando went on. “I’m guessing several months. It’s funny how I remember it like it was yesterday, though. I was in my cell, lying on my back and staring up at the ceiling. It was two days before Maura’s and my execution… along with a dozen or so other inmates’. Two men came to the door of my cell that Tuesday morning—one Caucasian, one African-American. Both wore black from head to foot. They told me that they were from an organization called the IBSI… International Bureau for Supernatural Investigation, I think is what it stands for. They said they had come to make me an offer. They said that they were test-driving a new type of drug, though they refused to give details about what it was exactly. They just said that it was for a good cause, and it could potentially affect the lives of millions of people. They had apparently made some deal with the government, giving those criminals sentenced to death ‘a second chance to be of use to society’… ‘a second life’, or whatever…”

  Orlando rose to his feet, and began pacing up and down the room. “Well, you can guess what option I chose. Wasn’t exactly a difficult decision. I didn’t know what the drug trial would involve, but I had no other options on the table. Anything seemed better than death, at the time. Besides, they told me that I would be able to reunite with my sister, too, since she had already accepted the offer. Right, Maura?”

  “Yup.” Maura nodded grimly.

  “So I left my cell with those two guys that very hour,” Orlando said. “They handcuffed me, along with about a dozen other men in my part of the jail, who were also due to be executed. We were taken to a large black truck. We were bundled inside and locked up, along with a bunch of other female convicts, including Maura.

  “There were no windows in the back of the vehicle, so we couldn’t see where we were being taken. But after a few hours, the vehicle stopped and two men opened up the back. They stepped inside, both of them holding a bunch of needles. They said that they needed to inject us with something for the purpose of ‘preparation.’ They gave us no choice about it. They moved from one of us to the other, sinking syringes into our arms.

  “Soon after that, I lost consciousness. And when I woke again, I was lying flat on my stomach in the middle of a road. A cold, hard, road. It was raining buckets, and when my vision cleared enough, I realized that I was surrounded by buildings, in some urban area. And I wasn’t alone. Surrounding me were most of the other men I’d been taken into the truck with, as well as the women. I spotted Maura, lying down also, looking…” He gulped. “Pale. Really pale. I didn’t know where I was, where we had been taken, or why we had just been dumped in the middle of a road in the pouring rain. We only realized later that we were in old Chicago.”

  “Orlando managed to rouse me.” Maura continued the story. “And bit by bit, we pieced together our whereabouts. Though to this day, we’ve never found out why we were dumped here.” She glanced down at her pale, nailless hands. “And we’ve never understood what they did to us exactly.”

  “We just assumed that the drug experiment—whatever it was—had gone wrong, and they’d dumped us out on the street to rot. Confusing, right?” Orlando said, raising his brows at me.

  “Y-Yes,” I stammered. My mind was buzzing as I tried to process everything they were telling me. “Can you just confirm one thing for me? You were definitely humans before they took you, right?”

  The siblings nodded.

  Right.

  “They left us with no note or explanation after they dumped us here,” Orlando ploughed on, “and none of the other convicts understood what had happened either. None of us had been conscious during whatever procedure we had undergone. But all of us were just thankful that we had apparently been set free—”

  “Until we realized that they had given us the equivalent of a death sentence… just longer and more painful,” Maura added in a low voice.

  “Meaning?” I asked.

  Both of them fell silent. Orlando placed his hands down on the table, his head tilted downward, his back facing me. Maura set her can of lentils aside, looking quite sick.

  “Whatever procedure they carried out on us,” Orlando said finally, his voice becoming husky, “is fatal.”

  I hesitated before asking, “How do you know that?”

  “Because we’ve seen it,” Orlando said, turning around and facing me. In spite of his stoic expression, I couldn’t miss the flash of fear in his deep-set eyes. “We’ve seen it in others. Others who underwent the IBSI’s procedure and were thrust out here. Others whose systems were messed up and who turned into… whatever the hell we are. We’ve watched people die from the effect these changes had on their bodies.”

  “And people just… disappear,” Maura added in a soft voice. “I guess some get caught and turned by the Bloodless, leaving them basically unrecognizable. But there’s a colossal crematorium near the shore. Once in a while, tanks sweep through the city—clearing the roads, we assume. Not sure why they even bother.” Maura’s voice trailed off while she continued to gaze down at her fingers. It was as though she was speaking to herself more than anyone else as she continued, “They say it creeps up on you. They say one day your organs just collapse in on themselves with barely any warning… although they also say that coughing up blood is one of the first symptoms of the body surrendering to its fate.” She reached into the pocket of the jogging pants she had changed into and withdrew a pale handkerchief. She twisted it in her fingers absentmindedly. “I fear the day this will be stained with red.”

  My mouth had completely dried out by now, my mind filled with thoughts of Lawrence. I found myself replaying all the time that we had spent together—recalling every symptom he had ever displayed. I recalled when he had been lying in his hospital bed… He had coughed up blood.

  Although Lawrence had still had fingernails, his hair was thin, like Maura and Orlando’s. And his skin, as I had already noted, had been thin and pale like theirs.

  And his temperature… I realized that I had not felt how cold they were yet. When Orlando had touched me before, he had been wearing gloves.

  “Are you cold?” I asked.

  Maura slid a hand across the table, allowing me to touch it. Yes, she was cold. But not cold enough to be a full-fledged vampire. Her temperature was about the same as Lawrence’s had been.

  I believed without any doubt now that whatever procedure the IBSI had inflicted on these siblings—along with God knew how many other human test subjects—was the same type that Lawrence had undergone. Yes, Lawrence’s symptoms had not been exactly the same as Orlando and Maura’s, but there could be a number of explanations for that. For one, it could be that by the time Lawrence was subjected to the procedure, more time had passed and the IBSI’s “test” had developed further, morphed and advanced.

  Atticus, when he had come to The Shade to reclaim Lawrence from us, had told us that the procedure was performed to enhance a human’s capabilities beyond what had ever been achieved before. But I had no idea whether that was true or not. I couldn’t believe a word that man spoke.

  Atticus had also claimed that Lawrence had been a half-blood before the procedure—that he had been half-turned by a hungry vampire. But now I didn’t believe that either. Orlando and Maura had confirmed that they had been human—and it was the procedure that had caused them to become like this…

  The same had to be true for Lawrence.

  I thought back to when I had been taken before Atticus in their Chicago headquarters and spoken to him via the screen. I had asked how Lawrence was. Atticus had said that Lawrence had recovered and was doing very well.

  What did that mean? Even if he had been telling the truth, what exactly would Lawrence be now? What would he have morphed into, if the procedure had been successful?

  I brought my mind back to the present. Coughing my dry throat clear, I asked, “So are there many more still living like you? How many, uh, no
n-Bloodless are there around this side of the city?”

  “Impossible for us to give a meaningful estimate,” Orlando replied. “But trust me, you don’t want to go venturing into the streets out to find out. In case you hadn’t picked up on it already, Maura and I try to keep to ourselves as much as possible.”

  “Some of the other ‘humans’,” Maura explained, forming air quotes with her fingers, “if we can call ourselves that, can be more vicious and desperate than the Bloodless.”

  “What do you mean?” I asked.

  “For one thing,” Orlando replied, “they’re all thugs. Violent convicts, most with a lot fewer scruples than us. Add to that the fact that they are in dire, desperate circumstances, struggling to survive in this hellhole—they’re utterly ruthless. They’ve formed into gangs. They roam the buildings and roads, preying on those weaker than them… not all that dissimilar to the Bloodless themselves. And if any suspect you have food or shelter that’s better than theirs, they’ll hunt you down and…”

  “Make you wish you were dead, basically,” Maura finished, her lips forming a hard line.

  “D-Did they ever hunt you?” I asked, shaken. This place truly was the stuff of nightmares.

  “It happened to us once,” Maura said. “A month or so ago. It was early evening. We had been foraging for food, and we got spotted and mugged—everything we’d spent the day collecting stripped from us… We were just lucky we managed to get away and lose them before they could follow us. Since then, we’ve been out far less.”

  “Have you ever tried to escape from here?” I asked. “Find somewhere safer, like on the other side of the river?”

  “Oh, trust me, we have tried,” Orlando scoffed. “That was one of the first things we figured that we ought to do when we found ourselves in this place. Well, we were sure in for a rude awakening. There are guards with guns keeping watch on that side of the river for anyone attempting to cross the boundary—which is, by the way, electrified anyway.” Orlando’s right hand hovered over his right hip. “We both got bullets lodged in us before we could even reach the fence. I got two, by my hip. Maura got one in her arm. It’s amazing that the two of us survived it. It’s like our bodies have toughened in some way… Obviously, we never tried again after that.” Orlando grimaced. “We might have a fatal condition, but suicide has never been the way I want to go.”