Paradox - Progeny Of Innocence (bk2) (Paradox series) (9 page)

Angela glared at the boy and silently said,
'What in the name of Gods has gotten into you, Zach? For God's sake, tone it down, okay, or you will have Wade to answer to.'

Silently he responded.
'Yeah, okay. I just wanted to see what this body was capable of. Not bad, considering.'

'Well now you know, so cut it out,'
Angela replied wordlessly. To Grace she said, "I told you he was faking the sore ankle. He’s just a big drama king."

Grace giggled at Angela’s phrasing. "I think you mean drama queen."

"No I don’t, Zach is male. So the term would be drama king," Angela persisted.

"It doesn’t work like that," Grace said, shaking her head.

Angela sighed at still not being able to grasp the ridiculous reasoning in such matters. "Well, that is just plain stupid then."

"Want to see me juggle the kettle and the mug? And these oranges?" Zach asked, gathering up oranges from the fruit basket on the kitchen bench.

"Yes," said Grace eagerly.

"No. Absolutely not, we have to get to school!" Angela said, glaring at him.

Zach laughed at the exasperated look on Angela’s face. "I was just kidding, Ange," he said, returning the kettle to the stove and taking a bite out of one of the unpeeled oranges.

"Angela, my name is Angela," she said, correcting him with a fierce look. "Not Ange or Angie. Angela."

"Gross, Zach," Grace said, screwing up her nose. "Aren’t you going to peel the orange first?"

Zach stopped chewing for a moment and contemplated Grace’s question. He looked at Angela. Then he resumed chewing. "Nope, tastes just fine to me."

Zach looked so at home now, not like the day when he'd first arrived at Grace’s home, a tight bundle of nerves swathed in a gorgeous body that he had been struggling to adjust to. Adapting to this body had been harder than he had anticipated. But adapt Zach did, and beautifully. He was beginning to adjust to this new life, new role and begin fitting effortlessly into Grace’s life.

Zach was what we called a ‘drifter’, or ‘wanderer’. He was an Altairian soul who could shift from one human body to another. Usually permission has been granted from the host – but not always. Before his soul had walked into this body, Zach’s body, he had gone by the name of Caelum, the Latin word for sky, heaven, celestial. Caelum, like Brian, was an Altairian in the Royal Bulguardian Army, from the stricken city of Altair. He was here now to track, protect and ultimately to destroy whenever necessary. His abilities, when his soul had completely melded with this new body, Zach’s body, would be quite extraordinary.

There were many like Caelum that walked here among the inhabitants of this planet, disguised in human form. Free to move unnoticed and unobserved. Some were ‘sleepers’, yet to be woken, unaware of their true identities. They might be standing next to you in line at the ATM, on the bus or at the video store. Perhaps there was more to that shy delivery boy who delivered your pizza.

Drifters have a particular presence about them that you notice immediately, but you shake off the feeling, not daring to believe in the possibility of something, someone so different to yourselves. But the more perceptive humans, who are not afraid to look a little closer, a little deeper, discover such wondrous things outside the realm of their own miniscule existence: answers to all things, great and small. For those few short awe-inspiring moments, it is as though the mortal soul bursts through into spring. But this state of being cannot be emotionally sustained by human fragility, and slowly but surely, the persistent hand of reason pulls them back, leaving the shy pizza delivery boy’s true identity concealed once again.

Grace thought back to the day, a few short months ago, when her family had unexpectedly expanded. She had found Wade standing at the front door with his fist curled up, preparing to knock.

"Heard you pull up," she said, giving him one of her widest grins. Then, "Hey Mom, there’s a hottie on the front door step, shall I let him in, or send him on his way?" Grace giggled. "You know you don’t have to knock, Wade, just come in, you’re part of the furniture now." She looked him up and down approvingly. "Looking very smooth and stealth-like in that get-up, officer. Are you on an important assignment, rounding up more half-crazed monsters, flesh-eating zombies, shape shifters, werewolves? Oh I know, blood suckers, vampires!" Grace said enthusiastically.

"Very funny, Kiddo. You watch way too many scary movies. No wonder you have trouble sleeping."

"I do not have trouble sleeping," Grace said, folding her arms across her chest.

Wade looked at her. "Yes, Grace, you do. Now move aside and invite us into this humble dwelling before I burst into flames or whatever it is that happens if monsters stay out in the sunlight too long. There’s someone I want you to meet…"

"Really, he’s here, today? I thought…" She stood on her toes to take a quick peek over Wade’s shoulder.

"Yes, today," Wade answered, lifting her off the ground and giving her a quick bear hug before releasing her to the floor.

Grace studied Zach. She blushed when he returned her curious gaze. Zach smiled then squirmed, as if he was wearing an ill-fitting jacket.

Wade gently moved Grace aside and ushered Zach inside. Silently he said to his younger counterpart,
'Calm down, Zach, or you will blow it.'

Zach was easily 179 centimeters tall, almost the same height as Wade, and at seventeen he was almost a year older than Grace. He had an athletic build, an olive complexion and neatly cut bronze-colored hair with tips bleached white by the sun.

But it wasn’t Zach’s perfectly toned physique that had Grace’s attention transfixed on this boy; it was his dazzling emerald-green eyes. They were enchanting, spellbinding, and impossibly beautiful. It was almost physically impossible for her to draw her eyes away from his hypnotic gaze.

"Pollen," Grace said, rubbing her eyes to break the spell. She dropped her head and stepped further back to let Wade and Zach enter.

Kate rushed to the door, drying her hands on the sides of her jeans, to welcome the boy. "This must be Zach, welcome. Wade called to say you were arriving soon. Come on in, please." She put her hand out to shake his, and then decided a motherly hug was far more fitting to the occasion.

Zach stepped back defensively, then shot his arms above his head, trying to avoid as much physical contact with Kate as possible.

Kate laughed. "It’s okay Zach, I don’t bite."

Zach took a quick glance at the light on the ceiling, nothing. He slowly lowered his arms and cautiously returned Kate’s embrace.

Kate released the boy. "You’ve met Grace, I see."

"Yes, just now," Zach said nervously, wondering if he was meant to hug her as well. Grace didn’t make any advances toward him, so he remained still. Observing.

Kate smiled at him. "Did anyone ever tell you that you have the most beautiful green eyes, Zach?"

"Mom," Grace blurted. "Don’t be so embarrassing. Zach, can I get you a cold drink from the kitchen? Coffee for you, Mom, Wade?" she asked retreating to the kitchen. She stole another quick peek at Zack over her shoulder. Her cheeks flushed crimson when she realized that he had caught her looking at him.

Zack gave a quick nod and smiled. "A cold drink would be great, thanks." He stood awkwardly glued to the spot, not sure what to do within the confines of his new body.

Wade shot him a frantic pull-it-together look and nodded his head toward Grace.

"Um, I’ll go help Grace with the drinks," Zach said, dashing off after Grace.

"Oh, it’s okay. I can manage, really," Grace said, reaching up to take two coffee mugs down from the kitchen cupboard, then added, "soft drinks are in the bottom of the fridge door. Can you grab me one, too?"

"Sure thing, here, um," Zach studied the label, "lemonade okay?"

"Sure, thanks." She took the can from him and smiled. This time he returned her smile without the nervous awkwardness. Grace pulled herself up, sat on the kitchen counter and stared at the kettle on the gas stove, willing it to boil faster.

Zach followed suit. Then he studied the can in his hand. He watched Grace as she pulled back the tab on the can she held, then took a sip of the cold, fizzy liquid. He mimicked her behavior, wincing as the cold, sweet liquid bubbled down his throat. Cold sweet liquid, he thought, he would have to get used to that.

"So," Grace started, "where are you actually from?"

Zach pulled his eyes off the kettle, fired Wade a quick glance, and said silently,
'don’t worry, I’ve got this.'

"Cairns, in Queensland, have you ever been there before?"

"No. Is that where your parents... I'm sorry. I don’t mean to-"

"No, it’s okay, and yes, that is where my parents were…" he hesitated for a moment."Yes, that is where my parents were killed."

"Were killed? Like, murdered?" she asked in a hushed voice.

A screeching whistle tore through the unanswered question. Grace’s heart pounded as she spun around to find a torrent of steam howling angrily from the kettle on the stovetop. She swiftly jumped down off the kitchen counter and plucked the kettle off the stove to silence it.

"Kettle’s boiled," she announced unnecessarily. "The usual, you guys, white with two?" She grabbed a carton of milk from the fridge and absently sniffed it as she watched Zach studying the tears of condensation running down the side of his soft drink can with fascination.

"Thanks, Kiddo," Wade replied from the kitchen table.

Wade had told Kate and Grace a few days earlier how Zach’s parents had been killed, but he hadn’t elaborated on the how. And with no other living relatives, or friends to speak of, Zach was left completely alone. An orphan, Wade had said. Kate hadn’t hesitated for a second. She agreed to take the boy into her home immediately. No questions asked. And when Kate had told Grace about the plans for their new houseguest, she had been absolutely thrilled with the idea.

Grace wasn’t an orphan, of course; she had her mother, and Angela and Josh and Wade. But sometimes she felt so alone and disconnected from herself that she felt she could relate to Zach’s circumstances.

She remembered when she was eleven, just after her father had died. How she would wake up in the middle of the night and drift aimlessly around the house in the still of the night. Searching for the father, who she realized was never coming home.

But Wade had been there to comfort her. Come on Kiddo, climb in, Wade would say, patting the sofa and making room next to him for her. She would cuddle up close to him, her head resting against his chest, listening to his rhythmic heartbeat as it lulled her back to sleep.

In the morning, Grace would find herself tucked up safely in her own bed. She would pretend that it was her father holding her, tucking her back into bed and brushing her hair softly from her forehead. When she eventually dragged herself out of bed in the mornings and wandered out to the lounge room to watch television, Wade would already be in the kitchen, preparing breakfast for her.

"Cereal, Grace?"

"Yes please," she answered, "and a coffee."

"You’re eleven years old, Grace; you’re too young for coffee. Milk or juice?"

"Okay, milk, then," she answered half-heartedly as she propped herself up on one of the stools at the breakfast bench.

"So when do you think I’ll be old enough to drink coffee?"

Wade studied her for a moment. "Sixteen, maybe," he said, putting a mug of cold milk down in front of her. He produced it in her favorite ‘Hope’ mug, that depicted an angel with beautiful white wings.

She sniffed it, then, cautiously took a tiny sip, tasting it like a seasoned connoisseur tasting a questionable glass of wine.

"Would you like a spit bucket with that?" Wade asked grinning.

She squished her tiny face up at him. "A spit bucket? Why? What’s a spit bucket? That sounds horrible, a bucket full of spit. Gross."

"Never mind. I’ve already given the milk the 'Connors' sniff test, no more than five minutes ago. It's fine, now drink."

She drank her milk and thought about their conversation. "Sixteen, that’s five years away, I think thirteen sounds better."

"Fifteen... and that’s my final offer."

"Deal!" she said, putting out her hand to shake on it.

Wade picked up a sharp knife and made a small cut on his palm.

Grace’s eyes popped open wide as she stared at the blood pooling in his palm.

"Cool, can I do that?" she asked, shoving her hand out toward him.

He took her hand gently in his and made a small incision.

"That didn’t hurt a bit," she said, amazed that no pain had accompanied the blade slicing through the flesh on her palm.

Wade smiled. "I didn’t think that it would."

She watched the blood trickle from the cut in her palm. "It isn’t really red like I thought it would be; it’s more bluish really. Let me see yours."

She peered into his palm. "It’s bluish-red, too, like mine."

"So it is. Okay, ready to shake on it?" Wade asked.

Grace nodded. "Yep, shake." They clasped hands and shook hands three times.

Had Grace looked, she would have noticed that her hand had already completely healed from the cut.

"Fifteen it is, Kiddo, not a day earlier, now eat your breakfast." He put a bowl of fruit loops down on the bench in front of her and handed her a spoon. Fifteen would be the perfect age to start preparing her for the next step in her journey. Wade did the calculations. They only had four years to prepare. With any hope, a little longer.

"Thanks, Wade," Grace said as she shoveled a mouthful of cereal into her mouth.

"You are very welcome, Kiddo."

"Are you staying here while I go to school?" she asked him.

"Just till your mom gets up, why?"

Grace shrugged her shoulders. "Sometimes mom is still in bed when I get home. I get lonely and I miss my dad. I like having you around."

The toast launched itself out of the toaster and landed on the kitchen bench with a plop. "Toast?" Wade asked gathering it up.