Good Things

Outreach: Part One by Dariel Raye

Gasping for air, Jaci threw off the cover with her hands, kicking the rest loose with her legs. Her feet hit the hardwood floor and she ran for the bathroom, propelled by instinct. Fire rushed through her chest, a hand tightening around her heart. She flipped the toilet seat up and leaned over it, balancing herself with her hands, and retched, the acid from her stomach abrading her throat. Water. Nothing but water. Good thing I couldn’t eat last night.

She closed the lid, washed her hands in the sink next to it, and reluctantly looked at her image in the medicine cabinet mirror, noting the dark circles underneath her dark brown eyes and a slight redness surrounding her pupils. I am entirely too young to look so old. She rummaged through one of the caddys surrounding her sink and grabbed her toothbrush and toothpaste, then pulled her mouthwash from the linen closet behind her.

Frowning as she brushed her teeth and continued to look at herself in the mirror, she shoved her free hand into another caddy and felt for her facial cream, mentally sighing over her downward spiral in the housekeeping department. Jaci was so accustomed to the burning in her throat that she considered it commonplace. Always the same. Always the same nightmare.

“Well, one good thing about insomnia, the big boss loves me. I’m always early for work,” she said aloud, talking to her bedroom as she turned the light off in the bathroom.

She grabbed the remote from her chest-of-drawers and turned on the surround sound in her apartment to hear the early morning news while she got ready for work. Stooping over one of her moving boxes along the wall, Jaci removed a pile of mail and other random papers from the top of it, dropping the mess on the floor, and opened the box. The once heavy cardboard flap was so worn from being used as a permanent storage place, it felt soft and flimsy to her hands.

This was at least the fifth time she had moved in the last three years, and she’d barely bothered to unpack. Other than waving at her neighbors on the rare occasions they crossed paths, Jaci made no effort to be friendly or approachable. She never remained in the same place long enough for it to matter, and she could count the people on one hand who knew where she lived at any given time.

She reached into the closet and pulled out a pantsuit. Eenie meenie miney mo. Blue for Monday. It really didn’t matter which one. They were all the same, just different colors, all neutral, comfortable, and perfect for work. Best benefit of all, one less thing to have to think about.

After a quick shower, breakfast consisted of dark roasted espresso Romano, one of her few luxuries, and a slice of toast.

She shook her head from side to side to loosen her thick hair, then finger-combed the coils of her natural. She had spent hundreds of dollars trying a menagerie of “natural” hair products when she decided to return to her roots, but she had to admit that it paid off. In seconds, she was ready.

Jaci grabbed her briefcase from the bar, set the alarm, and checked the time on her car dashboard when she started the ignition. She had fought the incessant encroachment of electronic contact as long as she could, nearly ending up as one of the few people in the 21st Century without a cell phone, but duty called, and she eventually gave in. She still owned watches too, but somehow always managed to forget to wear any of them. Since the accident, time no longer seemed to matter, so she tried her best to forget about it.

Taking her usual route to work, the scenic one, she arrived exactly twenty minutes later. The interstate would have easily shaved fifteen minutes from her commute, but she hadn’t been able to handle going near the busy highways since her husband and two-year old daughter were killed.

Jaci parked her Nissan Rogue in her reserved spot, unlocked the steel door at the back of the three story building, turned off the alarm, and unlocked her mailbox in case the weekend skeleton crew had left something for her. Breathing in the elusive sound of complete silence, she took the stairs to the third floor and walked into her office at 5:43 a.m., nearly two hours early. As usual, the office was empty. No printers whirring, phones ringing, computers jingling, or whatever the many sounds computers made these days were called, and best of all, no people chattering or asking her inane questions. Just the way she liked it.

Despite wearing the title, Director of Social Services, Jaci had become quite antisocial over the past three years. Her office was directly next to the big boss, Director of Child and Family Services, or DCFS as most people called their little slice of state government.

She placed her three containers around her desk, “Urgent,” “Important – File,” and “Trash,” then thumbed through her mail, making the most of her quiet time until she got to a large brown envelope with the return address, “Federal Department of Corrections Outreach Initiative.”

A knee-jerk reaction took her by surprise. She leapt from her desk, covering her mouth with shaking hands. She had been waiting for a reply to her grant proposal for over six months, and the bureaucratic idiots had chosen to send it over the weekend.

It’s probably a rejection. “Shut up,” she told herself as she took a deep breath, reached for her chair, and sat down at the desk again. Placing her forearms squarely on the flat surface, she tried to compose herself. Until now, she hadn’t realized how desperately she wanted this. Despite a master’s degree in psychology and a doctorate in social work, she still wasn’t at all sure why, but she knew that if this was a rejection, she would plummet even deeper into the dark abyss she had just started to crawl out of.

“Okay, Jaci. Open the thing. Just open it.”

She took one more breath, pulled the small metal prongs apart, then removed her letter opener from her desk organizer, mumbling a series of nonsensical sounds under her breath the entire time she slid the letter opener under the top flap, breaking the seal. With the seal broken, she still had to sit a few moments longer before removing the contents of the envelope.

“Yesss!” Jaci pumped a fist straight into the air and ran around her desk doing a tribal-like happy dance, hopping and jumping with a sense of something she hadn’t known she was missing until that moment: hope.

Now, if only she had someone to share it with. Her parents were gone, murdered while she was away in college. Since their deaths, she’d made a point to avoid her extended family as much as possible – something about them had never seemed “right” to her, and the two people she called “friend” were both night owls.

Jaci chuckled to herself, thinking about Diana and Renee as she glanced at her wall clock. If she called and woke either of them before 6:30 a.m., they might not be friends anymore. She satisfied her need to celebrate by making a copy of the entire packet and tacking the award letter to the corkboard beside her desk.

Summer meant vacation time for most of the DCFS employees, so as the official new project manager for the “Outreach” program, she would have to work fast to confirm sponsors for her new clients. She spent the next few minutes of quiet time pouring over the program specifics.

Andreus stepped into the prison yard and looked around, always aware of every sound, every smell, and every movement. He took a moment to enjoy the warmth of the sun and watch the birds flying overhead. He envied their freedom, but his desire for autonomy warred with his fear of the unknown.

Despite not being allowed to set foot outside the prison during the fifteen years, nine months, and five days he’d been incarcerated, he noted the sounds of more cars passing since the opening of the casinos in the small town of Atmore and wondered how he would cope with other changes facing him once he was released on parole in seven days.

Well aware of the other men watching his every move, Andreus strode to the far end of the yard and sat on one of the corner benches, giving him a perfect vantage point. The others shot hoops and hung together in small groups, but even here, in this social castaway zone, he did not fit.

He slid his tongue across his pointed incisors. While the world changed outside, he had undergone a secret metamorphosis inside these walls, and searching for answers about who and what he was had turned up absolutely nothing.

Whatever the explanation, the sense of something lying in wait was always with him, ever present, and it had been a part of him as far back as he could remember. Everyone around him felt it, their fear of him instinctual. The reaction he received from most people reminded him of deer sensing the presence of a lion, but Helen, his adoptive mother, had been different. She had accepted him, even when she saw his skin instantly knit together seconds after being wounded.

Andreus closed the door on his memory of her again, putting it away safely until later when he needed her image to help him get some much needed sleep. Playbacks from his nightmares haunted his days as well, hounding him with swords clashing, molten rocks exploding, deep chasms filled with fire splitting the Earth, multi-timbre voices of war, and huge wings rushing toward him, claiming him. Even now, Helen’s image held the power to offer him a measure of peace. She was the only one who had ever cared for him.

He walked over to one of the exercise bars on the prison yard, set his playlist to a classical mix of Chopin, Rachmaninoff, and Debussy, and inserted his earbuds. When he looked up, the group of inmates who’d been hanging around the bars just seconds ago had sauntered off, giving him a wide berth. He had no interest in getting to know them or sharing their company for that matter, but being left alone within these four walls with nothing but his own disturbing thoughts made the maintenance of sanity a challenge.

Like most of his possessions, he had purchased the electronic device with “gift” money he’d earned for keeping another inmate safe. Easy money. All Andreus had done was to allow the bullied prisoner to sit with him in the mess hall and hang with him in the yard for a few days. He maintained a calm demeanor, never advertising his services, but business always came his way, particularly since the casinos had opened.

Andreus heard footsteps approaching from behind as he contracted his muscles and continued his daily exercise routine. He already knew exactly who approached before turning around, so he didn’t bother to stop what he was doing.

“Shannon, you too. The warden and the social worker want to see you.”

As if he hadn’t heard the guard, Andreus took his time finishing his last set of pull-ups, then leapt down from the bar. He snatched his t-shirt from the concrete bench and pulled it over his head. The moment he turned to face the guard and four other inmates, he saw and smelled their fear.

The putrid stench infiltrated his nostrils, and no matter how hard they tried to keep their expressions neutral—tough, even—he couldn’t miss the signs. They blinked frequently, their eyes like cut glass, and he saw tiny beads of sweat over their lips and on their foreheads.

“Let’s go.” Four more guards joined the original one and led the prisoners back inside and down the hallway to the warden’s office. With the exception of one of the guards, Andreus walked behind the others, who kept glancing back at him every minute or so until they reached their destination.

Once they arrived at his office, the warden led them to one of the classrooms and told them to be seated. He addressed them first, then turned the meeting over to the social worker, Gavin Sumner.

Gavin was a heavyset man, and stood almost as tall as Andreus. Despite his name, he was Italian through and through, often throwing in a word here and there when he really got into what he was doing. Wearing a plaid polo shirt and stonewashed jeans, his presence was a staunch contrast to the other prison officials in the room. He also taught anger management and facilitated the AA groups. Andreus had never needed either of the classes, but they were required for every inmate convicted of involuntary or voluntary manslaughter, and that included him.

The social worker sat on the desk at the front of the classroom and removed papers from a large envelope before he started talking to the five of them.

“Good afternoon.” He waited for their response, as social skills were a large part of their rehabilitation.

“Good afternoon,” they chimed in unison.

“As all of you know, you will be leaving here over the next few days and reintroduced to society at large. Several months ago, each of you signed up for this partnership program between the State Department of Corrections and the Department of Child and Family services.”

After pausing for effect, he continued. “Now you know I’m not usually so formal, but this is a big deal, and you are our first guinea pigs. You need to make this work. It’ll help you and a lot of men after you. Capire?”

They nodded.

“I’m gonna hand you the paperwork you filled out for the “Outreach” program and I want you to look it over so you know what information we already sent your sponsors about you.”

After handing the paperwork to the other men, Gavin placed his hand on Andreus’ shoulder. “Shannon, come with me for a minute.”

Gavin led Andreus to a corner of the room away from the guards and the other inmates. “Hey, man. Just want to let you know the reason you’ll be the last one released is because it might take more time to find a good sponsor for you. There’s an addendum included with your bio with the complete account of what happened that night based on your adoptive mother’s testimony, but the way you killed him will probably still make some people shy away. We’ve talked about why your case is different before, but I’ll be here the rest of the week if you need to talk about it some more. Okay?”

Andreus stared into the social worker’s eyes to ascertain whether or not the man was telling him everything. When Gavin looked away, Andreus blinked and attempted a more relaxed stance.

“Is that it?”

The social worker cleared his throat before responding to Andreus’ question. “Yes. That’s it. Un-unless you, uh, need to—”

“There’s no hold-up with me getting out of here, is there?”

Gavin shook his head. “No. Absolutely not.”

“Thank you.” It wasn’t his intention to intimidate the man. Gavin had been good to all of them. Andreus just needed to be sure he wasn’t lying.

Andreus returned to the desk to review the information the facility had sent to the “Outreach” program coordinator. He completely understood why he would be the last prisoner to leave. The problem was that despite remembering every minute detail of Karl’s abusive behavior toward Helen, his memory remained sketchy about what happened afterward. He only recalled scattered pieces of what took place after he walked in on Karl kicking her.

Whether he recalled doing it or not, Helen had recounted the details in court, making sure everyone knew that she was certain Andreus had saved her life from the abusive monster. The bruises from Karl’s beatings could be seen on every part of her body visible to the naked eye, but Andreus saw even deeper, his stomach boiling with the need to avenge the broken woman inside, the woman who had taken him in when he had no one. Even Karl’s death did not ease his rage.

The judge called Karl’s abuse of Helen a mitigating circumstance, reducing Andreus’ sentence from twenty years to fifteen. The bottom line was that Karl had ended up mutilated and very much dead, and Andreus had spent almost half of his life in a cage. One thing he remembered saying at his own trial was that faced with the same circumstances, he would do it again. He still felt the same.

“See ya tomorrow, Frank.” Jaci stuck her head in her supervisor’s office.

Frank Avinger looked up from his computer. Most of the other employees were either on vacation or they were just there to catch up on some last minute business before the weekend.

“You leaving me too, Jaci?” He looked at the time on his computer screen. “It’s not even eleven yet.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t able to find anybody else brave enough to sponsor one of the “Outreach” clients, so I’m going to pick him up now. He’s getting out at noon. Oh, and he and I have the same birthday. Same date and year. What are the chances of that?”

“That is interesting. Was he born here too?”

“No, it didn’t say where he was born. Just said he committed the crime here in Alabama.”

Frank narrowed his eyes, and she knew he was about to say something she didn’t want to hear.

“You sure you’re up to managing the project and being one of the sponsors too?”

“Well, I don’t have much choice. The Department of Corrections was so late sending me the award letter that all of the participants were about to be released when I got it.”

“Thought you already had all the sponsors lined up.”

“I did, but the last couple backed out when I sent them the bio and they saw how the victim was killed–not that I’d really call him a victim from what I read. Doesn’t matter how somebody like that was killed as far as I’m concerned. It just means the child, and he was only a child at the time, was strong. Plus, he did it to protect someone he loved, and unlike some of the others, he has no priors. I think he deserves credit for that. The bastard he killed beat the woman with a blunt object, then knocked her down and started kicking her, all because she cooked something he didn’t like. Honestly, I think his killer deserves a medal.”

Her boss frowned, concern in his eyes. “So who exactly was his victim, or not victim as you say, and how was he killed?”

“If you don’t mind, I’ll keep the details between me and my client for now. I don’t want to betray his trust. It’s bad enough the couple that backed out on him know. Let’s just say he had to be extremely strong, extremely angry, or both, but he was only sixteen. He definitely deserves another chance, and right now it’s either me or a halfway house, and I get the feeling he wouldn’t do well there.”

He just looked at her for a few moments before breaking the silence.

“Jaci, you sure you’re not getting too involved? I mean, I agree with what you’re saying and all, but you’ve gotta keep in mind that he’s been in prison for fifteen years. He’s a grown man now, and probably hardened from…”

Jaci stared at him, grateful when he trailed off and stopped trying to tell her how much to care about her clients. After a few more seconds, Frank threw up his hands, letting the topic go.

“Thanks for all your hard work getting that grant approved, by the way. Not many people even think about that sort of thing. You know Cynthia and I would sponsor another one, but with Chloe graduating this year, we’re gonna have our hands full just keeping up with all of her last minute needs and sponsoring the one I picked up already.”

Following another brief pause, he added, nearly whispering this time, “But, Jaci, please be careful. I know how much you want this to work, and I know you care what happens to this man, but if this gets to be too much for you, don’t hesitate to—”

The mention of graduation was a painful trigger, as was his allusion to her not being able to handle things. She stared at the carpet, reminded of the fact that she would never see her Jathany graduate from high school. She didn’t want to put a damper on Frank’s excitement, and the last thing she wanted was to pull him into her personal hell, but she was not about to be told to play bureaucrat when a man’s future was in her hands.

She kept her face averted. “Now, Frank, you know me. I’ll make it work.”

Before he could respond, she threw up her hand as she turned and headed toward the elevator. She couldn’t let him see her crying.

Despite her recent antisocial behavior, she enjoyed learning about people and getting to know them better. That was the main reason she’d chosen social work as a career. She wasn’t sure why, but she had always been interested in people who had been thrown away by society.

Jaci considered it her calling to be their crusader. In order to gain more experience and insight, she had completed her practicums and internships in prison settings, written her dissertation on felony offenses, sentencing, and rehabilitation, and worked in the system since college.

She decided against returning to her apartment, fearful that her cold feet would plant themselves in Mobile and she’d never make it to the prison in Atmore. Her car was parked just across from the elevators, so she filled two plastic bags with ice from the machine at the office, then opened the back door and dropped them in the traveling cooler she always kept with her during summer months.

Next, she hoisted the cooler onto the passenger seat for easy access to her chilled lemonade, her go-to drink since the ugly reports about drinking too much coffee making people nervous had started to get to her. Atmore was only a few miles from Mobile, so she drove the distance in silence, mulling over the information she had read in Andreus’ file.

Instinctively, Jaci placed her hand over her heart, her mind vacillating between caution over the way Andreus had killed his adoptive mother’s boyfriend, and admiration because he had done it to protect her. With the exception of a trained killer, Shannon’s method of killing his adoptive mother’s boyfriend would have given anyone pause.

He had force fed Karl Pugh the dinner the man had thrown in his adoptive mother’s face, stuffed his nose with table napkins, then broke his back with his bare hands. The amount of force it took to break a man’s back without the use of a weapon was substantial, and although Andreus’ bio listed his height as 6’3” with a weight of 200 pounds, she still marveled over the fact that he had only been sixteen when the crime was committed.

On the other hand, Andreus Shannon was the only parolee out of her five initial outreach clients who had not been protecting or avenging himself. Instead, he had done it to protect his adoptive mother, who had testified on his behalf before later dying of a heart attack.

The closer she got to the prison, the more jangled her nerves became. Tears flooded her eyes, making tracks down her cheeks. She was back in the car on the interstate, trapped and helpless to save Jathany, James’ inert body crumpled over the steering wheel and tilted at an impossible angle, blood flowing freely from his temple.

Jaci’s hands started shaking so badly, tears flooding her eyes non-stop, that she had to pull over to the side of the road. Suppose I really can’t handle this. My life is such a mess right now. I’m such a mess. I can’t take care of my own life, let alone help someone who’s been in prison for fifteen years get his life together. I couldn’t even take care of my own child. I can’t do this.

Andreus stood leaning against the prison gate. His curly, blue-black hair and rich tan skin were offset by piercing emerald green eyes. He knew all too well what was behind him, so he looked straight ahead, glancing periodically down the road in hopes of seeing a car coming for him. All of his belongings were contained in a brown duffel bag at his side.

He had spent nearly half of his life behind these walls, and during that time, the darkness that gave him the strength to destroy his adoptive mother’s boyfriend had grown inside him, taken root, and become a permanent part of him. He tried his best to hide it, but each day it grew stronger, as if he had left a part of him behind, or perhaps it had lain dormant. Now, he felt it stronger than ever. His pointed incisors and the restless flow of excess energy just beneath his skin served as constant reminders.

He had been waiting for over an hour. His sponsor, Dr. Rothschild, had given him her number, but with no cell phone, he had no way to call her, not that he would have. He refused to set foot inside the prison again, not even long enough to make a phone call, so he waited, placing his earbuds in his ears to pass the time and quiet his mind.

Jaci dropped her briefcase on the bar and kicked off her shoes as soon as she made it home. Exchanging her suit for a kaftan, she sighed with the relief accompanying the removal of her bra, then padded back to the kitchen in her house shoes. Washing her hands three times first, she opened the refrigerator door and pulled out a small container of chicken salad and a take-out garden salad with a special order of extra blue cheese dressing.

Placing the salads on the bar, she sat down, then reached back in and added a few strawberries and grapes to her menu for the night, along with two bottles of water. The way she saw it, as long as she added vegetables and fruit, everything else was fair game. At least no one could say she had completely strayed from her diet.

The minute she took the first bite, her stomach lurched. What am I doing? What gives me the right to…?

She shoved the food back into the refrigerator and ran down the hallway to her bedroom. Donning a pair of jeans, she considered skipping the bra, but decided that might not be the impression she wanted to make. After adding a t-shirt, she grabbed her wallet and keys, setting the alarm before she dashed out to her mini-SUV.

Dialing Frank’s number as soon as she pulled out of the parking lot to confirm, she raced toward the halfway house where she’d asked Frank to deliver Andreus.

“Hey, Frank. Did you take him to the one on Old Shell?”

“Yeah. What are you doing, Jaci?”

“I’m on my way to get him.”

“Why don’t you wait until—?”

“Don’t they still lock the doors at seven?”

“Jaci, listen to me. I really think you should—”

“You know I’m not hearing that. Thanks for covering the gap, Frank. I’m gonna take tomorrow off. I’ll check in with you later.”

She turned into the driveway of the halfway house and hit the “end call” button on her cell. Glancing at the digital clock on her dashboard before turning off the ignition, she took note of the time, letting out a sigh of relief that she had made it before lockdown. Jaci took another deep breath, then stepped out of the SUV.

She had barely rang the bell when the door swung open, revealing a tall, thin blonde man with a familiar face. “Jaci?”

She smiled, genuinely happy to see him. He was one of the few men she knew who wouldn’t give her a bunch of bull about whether or not she should be sponsoring a parolee who’d been convicted of voluntary manslaughter. He’d worked at the prison with her, and knew she could handle herself.

“Hey, Steve. I’m so glad you’re working tonight. I had an emergency earlier today so Frank brought Andreus Shannon here for me. Where do I sign to pick him up?”

Steve whipped out the record book for Jaci to sign. “I showed him his room and he hasn’t been back out yet, not even to go to the head. You know I watch ‘em like an overprotective papa when they first get here. He declined dinner, so maybe he’ll eat something once you get him settled. He’s a cold one. You can see it in his eyes.”

“Brrr.” Steve shuddered, then laughed, his shoulders moving up and down as he thoroughly enjoyed his own joke.

Nothing quite like the sense of humor of a reformed ex-con, Jaci thought.

“Guess I might be a little cold myself if I’d been in prison since I was sixteen,” Jaci said, offering him an accommodating smile.

“I know that’s right. I was pretty cold myself when I first got out, but this is different. Something else going on with this one. I wouldn’t say evil, but something… I don’t know.”

“Creepy?” Jaci offered.

Steve hunched his shoulders and lifted his hands, palms up. “You’ll see what I mean. I’ll go get him for you.”

Still exhausted from crying all afternoon, Jaci leaned against the front desk and waited.

A few moments later, Steve returned with Andreus several feet behind him, a brown duffel bag slung over his right shoulder. The details of his crime etched in her mind, Jaci did a quick once-over, noticing his striking features, but once she looked into his stark green eyes, she could not look away. Mesmerizing. This is gonna be interesting.

Although she was not one to wax mystical or paranormal, the first phrase popping into Jaci’s head was “dark force.” If the man’s presence hadn’t been so intense, she would have laughed at herself for sounding like a sci-fi nerd, but Andreus’ aura flooded the room, overtaking it like a flash tsunami. No one and nothing else could compete for her attention when their eyes met.

Andreus approached her, obviously being careful not to get too close.

Jaci extended her hand. “Hi. I’m Dr. Rothschild. Call me Jaci.”

Andreus looked at her hand, and time seemed to slow to a crawl, the old wall clock ticking loudly.

Finally, he accepted it, covering her hand with his. “Andreus.”

Unable to help herself, Jaci gasped. The very air seemed to spark, crackling around them with kinetic energy, and she was sure he felt it too because the spark was reflected in his eyes and he took a step back from her.

Jaci shook it off as a fluke

“I…apologize for not being there to pick you up. Thank God for Frank.”

“Thank you for coming here now.”

“You’re very welcome, and on that note, we’d better get out of here before Steve locks us both in.”

“Good to see you, Steve. Catch ya later.”

She turned and headed for the door, Andreus on her heels. She was careful not to touch him again, but found that his deep, melodious voice left her wanting to hear more from him, to know more about him.

Andreus followed Jaci to her car and held the door for her to slide into the driver seat before walking around to the passenger side. The night air felt good, but his back began to ache, his shoulder blades and spine suddenly throbbing. He knew it was not a result of his workout. In addition to the pain, a sense of foreboding grew more intense the longer they remained outside.

The moment he saw her, memories started to resurface from his dreams, Jaci’s face front and center. They had never met before, but there was a strong connection between them in some way. When they touched, he had felt intense pain, hers, and he sensed that some entity or group of entities would take great measures to keep them apart.

“Thank you, Andreus. Nice to meet a rare gentleman these days.”

He had no idea what to say to her. Starting conversations wasn’t something he had ever been good at, so he simply watched the road, periodically surveying their surroundings.

“So Steve told me you didn’t eat anything. Prison food is the worst, so I’m sure you have a craving for something. I’m not much of a cook, but we can stop and get whatever you want. Just say the word.”

Jaci seemed oblivious to the ominous energy brewing around them as its intensity continued to grow, making it hard for him to concentrate on what she was saying.

“You’re right. Prison food is crap, so I’m sure anything will be an improvement. I’d appreciate it if you just take me to one of your favorite places for takeout so we can get inside as soon as possible.”

“Okay. You like seafood?”

“I’ll eat just about anything.” Andreus smiled, his pointed incisors scraping the inside of his upper lip.

“You’re easy. There’s a nice place close by with some variety, so if you have a taste for more than one thing, that’s fine too.”

When he didn’t respond, Jaci glanced at him, her dark eyes narrowed. “You okay, Andreus?”

He didn’t want to alarm her, but he knew she would have to deal with whatever dangers they were about to face, sooner than later. His ability to concentrate was now nonexistent. The pain in his shoulder blades had become unbearable, as if someone was tapping their way out with a sledgehammer. “No. We need to hurry and get off the—”

Sssss! Boom!

Andreus felt the air crackling around them just milliseconds before a single bolt of lightning came out of oblivion, striking the ground in front of them and knocking out two of the car windows. Sudden, inexplicable seismic activity shook the ground directly underneath.

The front of the car tipped up, and Jaci bumped her head on the door as the car tilted. Blood trickled from her wound. He pulled her to him, shielding her from the wreckage as well as he could, refusing to let her go even as shards from the windshield embedded in his back.

The hammering at his shoulder blades increased, ripping his back open with such force, he levitated against the car ceiling, breaking through the fiberglass as if tearing tissue paper. Andreus heard the back window crashing just as the car tumbled over and landed upside down.

That’s when he saw the wings: his. Heavy black and green feathers shot out from his back, each one appearing to be as long as he was tall. He realized the wings had propelled him from the car, allowing him to hover over the SUV with Jaci in his arms.

Her eyes were like saucers as she looked up at him. Her entire body shook, a thin line of blood continuing to trickle from her forehead.

Andreus placed his palm over the wound, and her pain rushed through him again, images of a man and child lying next to her following an accident—a car accident much like this one. Immediately, as if the knowledge had always been there, he knew they were Jaci’s husband and child. Images from his nightmares flashed before him like movie clips on a screen, swords clashing, loud voices, high-pitched and deep at once, a cacophony of sounds, destruction, and wings rushing toward him, toward them.

Another laser-like beam headed in their direction, and three winged beings, men, as far as he could tell, zipped through the night sky. The lasers seemed to emanate from their hands, and one of them fought the other two. The realization that they were in the open and still in danger struck him like a boulder.

He moved away from the road, dropping to his feet several times before successfully managing to carry Jaci to the line of trees. The newness of his wings seemed more of a hindrance than a benefit as he did not know how to use them to shield Jaci, and lasers continued to shoot through the sky, a few of them landing on the ground not far from their makeshift shelter.

Suddenly, everything was silent.

“You can come out now.” Startled, Andreus turned to find the winged man who had been fighting the other two standing directly behind him.

He stumbled back, shocked that someone had been able to get so close to him undetected.

“Rehobeth.” The man extended his hand and smiled, revealing pointed incisors exactly like the ones Andreus had spent a large part of his life hiding.

Realizing the danger had passed, he set Jaci on her feet, but kept her close as she glanced nervously from one of them to the other, her lips slightly parted.

“Your things.” Rehobeth had obviously retrieved their belongings from the decimated vehicle. He glanced at Jaci, smiled warmly, and handed them to Andreus.

“Are the other two dead?”

Rehobeth nodded. “I’m sorry I arrived so late, but I didn’t know about you until very recently.”

Jaci’s breaths were shallow and short, and Andreus knew that not only was she experiencing shock from their immediate situation, but she was reliving the accident that killed her family.

She glanced at Rehobeth again, then whispered to Andreus, “You look like him.”

Rehobeth’s smile turned into a grin, and Andreus had to admit that there was a strong resemblance between them. The resemblance extended to the same kind of energy or life force he had always sensed within himself. Rehobeth’s wings were no longer visible, but Andreus recognized him as kindred, and immediately trusted him. Considering that he had never trusted anyone besides Helen and now Jaci, that was saying a great deal.

“Now that I’ve located you, we can discuss that later. For now, we’d better get you two some place safe. Those things I just killed are called minions, and not the funny cartoon kind. They were sent to kill both of you, and I’m sure there will be more of them soon. I have a truck just down the road.”

Andreus turned to Jaci and she swallowed, her nails digging into his side as she clutched him. Her free hand shook as she brushed it across her forehead.

“Can you walk that far, or do you need me to carry you?”

Jaci nodded, her movements jerky. “I-I can walk, I think. Yeah. I need to walk.”

Rehobeth led them to his truck and Andreus helped Jaci onto the seat. Her wound had healed as if it had never happened, but he felt her body still trembling. He admired her calm resolve. She seemed to be handling things well, despite everything she had been through.

Bracing himself, he felt the painful retraction of his wings as they receded into his back, no longer needed. They folded and joined with the muscles and nerve endings along his spine. When the pain finally subsided, he was able to breathe again.

Rehobeth waited patiently behind the steering wheel, a satisfied gleam in his eyes. “It only hurts like that the first time. Eventually it will be like lifting your arms and putting them down.”

Andreus climbed in beside Jaci, watching her carefully as she slid as close to him as possible. The poor woman had to be in shock. Despite remaining questions, the feeling of shock was oddly absent for him. Instead, he acknowledged a sense of coming home, and anticipated finally learning more about who and what he really was, whatever the answers turned out to be. One thing had already been made clear to him: his instinctive need to protect Jaci from whatever dangers she was about to face.

One step at a time, Andreus thought. One mystery at a time.