Tempus Transformare: Catalyst

By M. B. Christopher

From the day of Gradys birth, Graham felt the need to protect his small brother. After the loss of their parents, that need became his life. During the course of the last six months, that life was suddenly filled with chaos. That chaos was culminating in the events unfolding this day on a one-way course for a single moment. That moment in time at last arrived, bringing him to this final confrontation.

Change is inevitable. For the high school students of the small town of Martin change had become a thing to fear or anticipate. In the course of half a year, the town had experienced the transformation of a number of their youth. Now four of them were facing the impact of those changes. It meant something different for Graham, Matthew and RJ. One dreaded it, one feared it meant discovery, and the other was directed toward a goal of stopping it. The three of them were on a path that would end in a way none could ever imagine. For Douglas, the first of the Changed, relocation meant a chance to help him cope with his volatile talent. What he didnt know was his talent was pushing him toward a conflict that would have dire consequences for him and the friends he had left behind in Martin. None of them were aware of the Catalyst, the search for it, the conspiracy to hide it, or how its existence was targeting one of them.

Now is the time of transformation.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Oct 15, 2009
• ISBN: 9781467862073

M. B. Christopher

M. B. Christopher resides in Roswell, NM where he continues to write out the trials of the Transformare. He hopes you have or will enjoy this first story and will return for those that follow.

Book preview

Prologue 

Subject

The thin man shifted in his seat, smoothed his suit coat, and wished he could be anywhere other than here with these three. The first of which, the only who was his real peer, was in his usual position of power on the other side of the desk, while the other two had chosen to stand on opposite sides of the room. It left him seated alone in one of two chairs facing the back of the desk.

He understood the purpose behind their scheduled meetings and the necessity of having them. Their objective was complex and the need to meet with his compatriots at set times ensured they kept the lines of communication open. Most of what they dealt with could not be discussed over phones. However, this current impromptu meeting was something he would’ve preferred avoiding. He suspected he knew the reason for it and therefore would have preferred to simply avoid it.

It was bad enough having to deal with these people on a regular basis, especially considering more recent developments, but overall he despised these three and their childish need for constant reassurance. Plus, there were the ludicrous habits they developed over the years for conducting these clandestine meetings that set his teeth to aching. For one, the rather handsome man behind the desk had a despicable habit of leaning toward the dramatic. He may be a genius, although still far below the thin man’s intellect, but sometimes he could act like an absolute idiot.

From the beginning, the man had insisted on never using real names whenever the four of them met. His justification for this was based on the fact they never knew if anyone could be listening in to their conversations and considering the talents of some individuals that processed through the place it was a rather justifiable concern. However, instead of choosing some obscure, innocuous title such as Mister Smith or Jones, he had decided they all would refer to him as Apollo.

The thin man believed ‘Apollo’s’ unparalleled vanity had much to do with the choice. The man’s love of himself far outweighed the intellect locked in his pretty head. The thin man would have fought this decision had he not found himself in the minority. The woman to the left side of the room, a doctor who should have known better, had gone along with the ridiculous idea and chosen to refer to herself as ‘Metis’. The name itself was a complete joke since the woman was nothing like the Goddess of Prudence.

Finally the third individual, having chosen to break from the whole Greek tradition, had decided to simply call himself ‘Scourge’. Judging from the sheer repulsiveness of his visage, disgusting habits, and mind that matched his looks, this one at least chose a suitable name.

Even after the other three selected their new titles, the thin man was reluctant to follow suit. That was until Apollo threatened to provide one and upon suggesting ‘Pan’, the thin man was hard pressed to keep from slapping the smug look from his face. Instead, he decided it would be better to go along with the foolishness so they could move on to more important concerns. Thus, Mors was born.

The intended insult by going with a Roman name was lost on the others, who had no problems throwing around Greek names and titles without bothering to research the lore. It shouldn’t have surprised him and he suspected they simply assumed his choice was based on the fact the corresponding Greek name to his was already in use. Therefore, he had been stuck with the title for several years now and received none of the amusement the choice should’ve given him.

Mors glanced around the room again. As always, he was careful to avoid directly looking at Scourge, since viewing the man’s appearance always tended to set everything he ate over the past few days churning in his stomach, and wondered how long Apollo was going to sit there staring before coming to the point of this meeting. Once again, the man’s dramatic flair was more annoying than anything else. Every single time they met, Apollo waited several minutes in the hope to win some sort of leverage by making him uncomfortable. It never worked but he still never ceased with the silly games.

Can we get on with this, Metis commented in her nasally voice, remaining in her position against the wall. "Some of us have work to do."

She was more irritable than normal and Mors could understand her reason. The cuts and scrapes crisscrossing her face and arms were new, injuries received only a few days ago, and though she hadn’t been a very attractive woman to begin with, the wounds made her appearance all the more homely. Mors knew about the ‘accident’ that caused these cuts and the person she held responsible, who just happened to be the same individual that brought them here today.

The ‘Subject’, as Apollo insisted on calling him, who had been the cause of much woe over the past six months, was about to be released from Apollo’s realm into Mors’. He didn’t know whether he was more eager or apprehensive over the transfer. The Subject was dangerous. He knew this much from their reports and his personal observation and the plans they were about to initiate were already complex enough without the Subject’s addition. However, as Mors had been arguing all along, it was just as likely the Subject could ease things for them.

Very well, Apollo began leaning forward to catch Mors’ attention. I felt we should meet one more time before the release of the Subject. I don’t want any mistakes made and once he’s out of the controlled situation we’ve maintained, I believe there are factors that can cause us trouble if we don’t readdress them now.

He had known it but to hear it vocalized only served to further irritate him. Mors didn’t respond though, nor did he allow the anger he felt to show. To do otherwise would give the other man too much pleasure. The unspoken purpose of this meet wasn’t to ‘readdress’ their concerns as the man claimed, but to again point out if things didn’t go as planned they would hold him responsible. He didn’t appreciate the finger pointing. He hadn’t done it to them while the Subject was wreaking havoc to their facilities and expected the same consideration. Perhaps, he set his expectations too high and should clarify his own situation.

Provided the preparations we’ve discussed have been completed there shouldn’t be an issue. He calmly said while seething inside.

We haven’t deviated from the plan. Apollo glanced over to the woman. Metis, the file please.

Metis approached and unceremoniously dropped a thick folder on the desk in front of Mors. The look she gave both the file and the men was pure contempt. I still say we should put the smarmy brat down and be done with it. That boy is going to destroy us all.

Mors could understand her trepidation. From the start she had been warning them that this particular adjustment to their original plan was dangerous. Some of her research results he’d read clearly indicated the Subject was extremely unpredictable and his talent was so far reaching that seemingly innocuous events came together in a chain leading to explosive results.

Inwardly though, Mors looked forward to the challenge and thought she should’ve listened to her own pleas. Her face held physical evidence of what occurred when one pushed the Subject the wrong way. However, the injuries were pressing Metis’ simmering dislike of the youth into pure unadulterated hatred. She would rather see him dead than attempt further exploration of his talent. Regardless of the fact that exploring could very well increase their chances of accomplishing their cause beyond their own expectations.

We go forward, Metis. Apollo’s tone remained friendly as always but Mors detected a hint of anger in it. He suspected this was an ongoing debate.

He’ll break us. I’m warning you again. We all know the outcome of failure and I don’t want to go down like the others. We should get rid of him, now, before that happens and if you don’t want to do it personally, hire Thanatos, he can do it.

At the mention of their predecessors, Mors inadvertently turned toward Scourge and immediately regretted it. The very sight of the man’s boil-covered leathery face sent waves of nausea flowing through him and he quickly turned away. But it wasn’t quick enough to avoid the leer the man cast his way. That look did nothing to enhance Scourge’s presence, if anything it only caused him to appear more disgusting.

Of all those involved with the project nine years ago, this vile man was the only one who hadn’t mysteriously disappeared. Mors knew as much of the specifics behind the failure of those they replaced as what occurred to them, which amounted to very little. All he knew was they made a mistake regarding their objective, believing another to be the one they sought and acted on the information before confirming beyond doubt they had their goal. It was a very costly mistake and in the end those responsible paid for their blunder, perhaps the ultimate price. The unspoken threat of whatever happened to those men and women kept them all in line. They always checked and rechecked everything several times before forwarding any information to their superiors.

It was for these reasons he also mistrusted Scourge. He suspected the man was left in place not only to assist them but also to make secretive reports directly to the superiors, bypassing Apollo. Mors once mentioned this to the stubborn man but he wouldn’t hear it. Apollo believed wholeheartedly in Scourge’s loyalty and swore the man would never do anything like what he was suggesting.

Mors didn’t believe it for a second. If anything, Scourge was a survivor and the fact he still remained was proof enough of his willingness to do anything to save his own putrid skin. It wouldn’t surprise him in the least to find Scourge was playing his own game here and when it was over, Apollo would end up regretting not heeding Mors’ warnings.

As for their objective, all but Metis believed once the Subject was under their control he would be the greatest resource they had come across. It was Metis, in fact who first brought the Subject’s capabilities to their attention. It was hypothesized that once trained, the boy could accomplish practically anything imaginable. This in turn had Apollo contacting Mors and together they came up with this part of the plan. They would use the Subject, get him focused on their goal, and he would lead them directly, or indirectly, to what they referred to in this room as the Objective.

Mors preferred to think of it as what it really was; the Catalyst.

The mere thought of the Catalyst had Mors’ excitement bounding around inside, forcing him to redouble his efforts of maintaining a calm exterior. The possibilities that could come from control of the Catalyst were incredible to consider. Unrealized potential could be met, power increased, and whoever tapped into that potential would have standing beyond imagination. Mors had goals not aligned directly with those of his superiors and he knew once the Catalyst was within his grasp, it would be time for him to act appropriately.

First, Apollo turned his hard gaze on the woman and spoke in a granite voice, holding up a single finger as he spoke and raising each one next to it as he ticked off his points. "We will continue this course of action. It would be stupid to ignore such a valuable resource when it was practically dropped in our laps. Second, we will do nothing to the Subject. Even if we tried, and this is something you of all people should know quite well, we would fail. Third, even if we could trust the loyalties of Thanatos, which I sincerely doubt since the man’s always had his own agenda, regardless of how much you pay him, I doubt he would accept the contract without showing the Subject turned rogue. Kind of hard to do when we have hold of him.

"Fourth, Even if we did classify the Subject rouge and hire the man, I don’t believe he could accomplish what you’re suggesting. The Subject doesn’t have to be aware of a threat to eliminate it or have you forgotten your close call so soon? And you were only speaking of him in a derogatory manner. So, and I will not repeat this to you again; we go through with this, it’s my decision, not yours, and we will not address it again. Ever."

His last statements were delivered in a tone that brooked no further argument. Mors had never heard such steel in the man’s voice and was actually impressed. He hadn’t believed the man had it in him. Apollo spent too much time impressing himself; paying so much attention to his chiseled features and perfectly styled blonde hair that Mors didn’t think he had much time for bothersome issues like actual leadership. It had him re-thinking his opinion of the man. He couldn’t afford to make mistakes and underestimating someone with whom he worked so closely would’ve been a huge one.

Metis held Apollo’s stern gaze for another few seconds before finally lowering hers and taking a step back. Almost immediately, Apollo’s expression softened and his pleasant smile was back in place, looking like nothing more than a harmless administrative official. Mors now understood it was a front.

The man had made a big mistake by revealing his true authority. However, if he realized this he didn’t show it. Mors’ new assessment didn’t give him any insight into Apollo’s actual depth and with Metis there, no matter how distracted she seemed, he wasn’t able to use any other means of finding out. He would need more time to fully uncover the reality of Apollo and he wondered, with things building at the rate they now were, if he would get it.

The woman finally turned and began strolling back to her side of the room. Mors barely heard as she mumbled certain expletives regarding the Subject and his ancestry. He was hard pressed to avoid smiling himself as he considered the potential presented by the animosity between Apollo and the woman.

Scourge, Apollo turned his smiling gaze toward the man.

Mors heard him grunt and then the sound of his approach. He didn’t look up though, one look per month was enough and he’d already seen him too many times over the last few weeks. It was enough to last him several years. The sound of something heavy thumping down on the desktop nearby drew his attention and he turned toward it, keeping his eyes lowered.

He should have known better. The contents of the jar beneath his hand, which was also covered with those disgusting gray and black boils that roiled as if something alive twisted in fluids beneath Scourge’s leathery skin, were more repulsive than the man.

You know what to do with these. Scourge said in a hoarse voice that always reminded him of a mutt choking on a dead rodent. Then he lifted his hand from the jar, leaving Mors to choose between keeping his gaze on the appendage and peering through the thick glass.

Although repulsed by the thought of what the dark burgundy liquid must be, he was thankful for how its opaque consistency helped conceal what swam within. He knew from experience though what the squirming wormlike creatures truly looked like and his imagination was able to fill in what he couldn’t see. Still, he was relieved to not have to see them directly.

Yes, he finally said turning his attention instead to the file and lifting it from the desk. I’m fully aware of what they are and how you use them.

Alright, but they’ll only survive in there for a week. So, make sure you place them for my man at the designated place and time.

Mors busied himself with glancing at a few of the pages in the heavy folder to resist the temptation of glancing at either Scourge or the foul things in the jar. He didn’t like either the idea of those things or the unknown agent working in his area. Since it was one of Scourge’s men, therefore meaning he worked indirectly for Apollo, it was important the unknown man not know of Mors’ own involvement. They were all careful to keep their personnel from knowing the identities of the others. It prevented the whole organization from coming apart if one segment fell. Scourge’s man was only there to get those worm things to their appropriate new homes and had strict orders to not interfere with anything else. Still, using those worm-things was the part of the plan he most detested.

Very well, he told the man while reviewing reports he already had practically memorized. The fact words such as ‘Undetermined’, ‘Unknown’, and ‘Undocumented’ appearing on numerous occasions throughout the file didn’t bother him as it did the others present. It was all part of the challenge and he was anticipating his part. That is all except what he knew what was planned for those disgusting things in the jar. I can assure you, you won’t have to worry about either of your ‘pets’. They’ll both have new homes within the required time.

There are eight of them.

He looked up to stare with undisguised contempt at Apollo. Eight? We agreed two.

Extra insurance.

Mors ignored Scourge. I don’t appreciate this deviation and considering the welcome we expect the Subject to receive, it’ll be difficult enough just trying to find two. Especially considering the restrictions.

We may need the extras, Mors. Apollo continued to smile reassuringly. As you said there are restrictions such as the Shifters and Benders, so we want to ensure there are sufficient numbers for everyone involved to accomplish this phase of our mission.

Mors seriously doubted that was all they wanted. He knew what these things could do, what they represented, and who truly controlled them. The idea of eight more of the things in his place didn’t sit well with him at all. The fact they had decided to adjust the number without discussing it with him was an even bigger slap in the face. The worse thing was that he would have to leave the jar where the other would collect them or risk tipping off his true intentions. He was angrier now than before but had to accept this change to the plan without further complaint. He kept silent as Apollo continued.

Also, provided everything we’ve discussed earlier yields the expected results, we could potentially have the Objective sooner than we believed.

I’m sure I’ll have the Subject ready within a few weeks.

Actually, I believe we’re going to need him ready before then. You might only have a few days, a week at the most.

What? You can’t be serious. We haven’t even been able to determine where to send him in search of the Objective.

Not quite. We’ve already discussed the most likely location.

Mors immediately understood what he was talking about and couldn’t believe the man had decided to move ahead based on just that bit of information. They needed confirmation and so far they hadn’t received anything solid. That is, unless the man had gathered new data he hadn’t bothered sharing.

You’re talking about the possible Cluster?

Possible? Mors, look at the data we already have. This is a Cluster Event. Plus having someone as remarkable as the Subject appearing from the same location is highly indicative of the fact the Objective is likely there.

We’ve discussed this already. There have only been four kids extracted, so what makes you certain the Subject wasn’t the one who caused the Cluster in the first place?

Yes, you’ve mentioned it as one possible explanation. However, those extractions you mentioned happened after the removal of the Subject, which is actually one point against that argument. Another is we now have new information that supports the Subject and Cluster are actually results of the Objective and not the other way around.

Mors knew it. The man was keeping things from him and he didn’t like it. He liked the need to ask even less. What information.

We’ve acquired word from Her. She believes it’s the Objective’s location.

Are you mad? Mors couldn’t believe his peer would be so ignorant as to rely on any information coming from that girl, nothing but trouble ever came from anything she said.

Not at all. The info is from a very reliable source who assures us She’s certain the Objective is close to revealing himself.

She said ‘him’?

Yes.

So, you’re willing to believe that She’s just going to let this information leak out to us?

None of Her predictions have proven false.

And what makes you believe She didn’t feed us false info to throw us off track?

Apollo glanced at the jar and it didn’t take Mors long to determine the meaning. He joined his comrade in a knowing smile.

Well then, Mors now looked at the jar with less apprehension. He had considered the circumstances Apollo spoke of but hadn’t allowed his hopes to rise. This new information did change things. Was it really possible he could have the Catalyst in his hands by the end of the week? Between the information from the girl and the success he expected with the Subject, the odds were dramatically increased in his favor. I hope you’ve taken steps to keep this from leaking to interests other than ours.

Of course. In fact, we’ve even managed to keep the existence of the potential Cluster from leaking.

You have an Extractor then?

Apollo nodded as he answered. We’ve had people in place at several locations for some time now. When we first encountered the Subject, we had our man there keep a close eye on the place and restrict access to other Extractors. Now he’s just waiting for us to give him word on which we want. The instant our Objective becomes clear we’ll be ready to move.

Then you expect the extras may come in handy if the Objective is discovered, don’t you? He waved casually at the jar.

In a manner.

Just keep in mind, Scourge spoke over his shoulder and he could feel the man’s fetid breath on his cheek. When he moved so close Mors didn’t know but he was sure he didn’t appreciate the man being so near. Without turning he could sense the man was staring gleefully at his pets as he spoke. You shouldn’t attempt to use them anywhere around the Subject.

I’m well aware of this. He answered unable to keep the spite from his voice.

Scourge rose away from him and he suppressed the shudder and grateful sigh of relief. The man had more to say though. And if we happen to be lucky enough to find the Objective within the week, you should keep them away from him as well.

Mors didn’t miss the disappointment that crept into the disgusting man’s voice. Although the man needn’t have mentioned that particular restriction, since he never had any intention of allowing the ‘worms’ within a several hundred yards of the Catalyst. It was one advantage he gladly would keep from his peer.

We don’t know how they would react to him and based on what we suspect, there should be plenty of others around him who would be perfect candidates. Apollo added, apparently believing his silence a result of an unspoken question.

In doing so, the man inadvertently gave away another show of power by revealing he had been the one to instruct Scourge they wouldn’t allow his pets around the Catalyst. Mors’ day was brightening by the moment and he was now actually glad for the impromptu meeting.

Why send them with me then? Wouldn’t it be easier to deal with them at this end like you’ve been doing?

There’s always unforeseen circumstances. We’re just covering all ends.

Okay then, he closed the file and tucked it under one arm as he rose. You’ve pushed me way ahead of schedule but considering the work you’ve done so far on the Subject while he was here, I’m quiet prepared for him. He’ll be ready the moment we’re prepared to move forward on the Objective.

Excellent. Apollo also climbed to his feet. The Subject will be escorted over tomorrow.

Can we trust the escort?

One of the Guards. He’s harmless. Not too bright but since no one else is willing to do the job he’s really all we have.

Mors nodded. He understood the necessity of having to rely on the third party even though he didn’t like it. With the way they pushed the Subject over the past months it wasn’t surprising no one but the security team was comfortable around the kid. Mors took up the jar and stepped back from the desk.

Then everything’s in place.

Apollo smiled and Mors nodded one last time as he turned and walked away, exiting the room without another word. There was no need for farewells, he didn’t like any of them enough to wish them that much. Plus, with as much as he still had to do, he didn’t want to waste further time sitting around.

As he closed the door behind him, Mors considered all that was just revealed and all that was about to come to pass and smiled. He had waited a very long time for this moment. The only thing that was going to be better then taking control of the Subject and the Catalyst, would be turning them against the idiots he left in that room. If anyone deserved that fate, it was those people.

Tomorrow, he said softly smiling broader. It begins.

CHAPTER 1 

Gray Life

Everything looked normal. At least from what he could see at first glance, he was still physically the same person he was the previous morning. He continued the careful study of his reflection in the full-length mirror for several minutes, inspecting his body for any trace of abnormality. This careful scrutiny had become a daily ritual that he accomplished every morning without fail for nearly seven years now.

Since ten, Graham was completing this self-examination to ensure nothing was out of the ordinary. He accepted the natural changes expected for a guy his age. These were the normal adjustments to his body that most guys experienced through these formative years and he barely paid them heed.

Graham didn’t look into this mirror every day for his own viewing pleasure. Once he finished this morning review, he would barely notice his reflection the remainder of the day. His examination was based on a more practical reason. He dreaded one day finding something out of ordinary. Many of those who knew him considered Graham Granthon a fearless individual. They saw the person he wanted them to see, which really revealed little of what was inside. He long ago forced himself to learn that control, to show nothing but what he wanted others to see. As he did, he discovered the value of reading the expressions of others to see what was in their hearts and minds.

This wasn’t something he learned for the pleasure of it. It was something he determined he needed to know in order to help in the accomplishment of one of his main objectives. Graham freely admitted he was a driven person, even at his relative young age. It was a drive that bordered on the edge of obsession in the dedication toward the completion of two goals; the first, and primary, of them being the protection of his younger brother Grady, or Grade as he oft times preferred.

It was a promise he gave his parents on the last day he saw them and one he fully intended to keep. To this end, he trained himself to do many things most kids his age wouldn’t dream, such as the study of body language. So far, it paid off and he was able to circumvent several situations that could’ve turned bad for the younger teen.

The worst of those threats, ironically, turned out to come from the man sworn to watch over the Granthon brothers. Just thinking of Simon Corbin induced a flare of rage in Graham, giving him yet another chance to see he was keeping his skills sharp. His expression in the mirror remained calm and no sign of the intense anger he felt was reflected in his posture. For all outer appearances, he was feeling nothing and that was the image he wanted to give. Although, since he was alone, he did take a moment to check his side.

He turned and raised his right arm over his head to get an unobstructed view while lightly pressing his free hand along the area of concern. His ribs remained tender to the touch but at least the bruises were gone. He had a remarkable healing rate, which he attributed to youth and constant exercise. Even very sore over the last few days, he was able to continue the rigorous work of their summer job.

As he studied the nearly healed injury, he felt another surge of anger. This time he wasn’t sure what irked him more, the fact Simon caused the damage or that it was forcing him to lie to Grady. Graham had never lied to his brother yet during the past half year, whenever the boy noticed the latest injuries, Graham had been forced to conceal the truth.

At first, before the summer break, he explained the damage as the result of bad dives but knew it was a stretch given how Grady knew he rarely missed his mark. However, since he began receiving the bruises at around the same time as the departure of his best friend, he had an honest excuse for his supposed distraction.

When school ended, as originally planned prior to his friend’s departure, the two of them moved out to the Colonel’s cabin to work through the summer. During those three months, he was required to make weekly trips into town to check in with Simon. Out of the twelve visits with the man, he walked away bruised eight times. The work at the cabin offered him the chance to stage a few more ‘accidents’ to cover-up any bruises.

Although, after this last week’s trip, Graham could see in his brother’s face that he didn’t completely believe him. When he spotted the damage on his side, Grady suspicions grew and the youth tried to corner him and uncover what really was going on. Graham never intentionally ignored a single question his brother asked until that day but considering the alternative, he felt the truth would harm his brother more than the falsehood and it was his job to keep things from hurting the boy.

Worse still, was Grade would be devastated if he ever learned that half the time it was Graham provoking Simon. In his mind, Graham saw it as a preemptive strike. He started after first seeing signs the man was getting closer to taking out his anger on the one person he saw as the true cause of all his troubles. Graham saw it growing stronger in their guardian and would willingly take any beating as long as it kept him away from Grady. He wouldn’t fight back either, provided the attacks were limited to him. However, the moment the man raised a hand to strike his younger brother; Graham would crush him.

It was that simple. Graham had considered it many times over and knew he could contain his own feelings toward Simon as long as the man was focusing on him. He had lost too much already and therefore would suffer no harm coming to his brother, ever.

It was just over nine years now since that afternoon his mother received that call. Though he had been seven at the time, his memory of the day was so clear he could still recall details as if recently viewing them at his own private screening in the local theatre. His mother departed shortly after the call, promising to contact them the moment she knew something. Graham’s father waited, not very patiently, for that call and by midnight he couldn’t wait any longer. That’s when he came to wake them, only to find Graham still up, and then rushed them here, to Simon’s home.

He asked his friend to watch over them while he drove down to find his wife. At first, Simon volunteered to go with him, but Gregory Granthon assured the man he could handle it on his own. When Simon tried to insist, Gregory mentioned where he was going in a hushed whisper, with the intention of not being overheard by his eldest son. Graham heard though and even though he knew little about Indus City, only what little he could remember from their brief visits, Simon apparently did and the look he gave his friend was one of fearful relief.

Indus was the first of the eight U.S. Cities built-up by, and designed primarily for, Changers, their families, and those dedicated to helping them. His uncle, sixteen at the time, was attending school in there and when Graham’s mother received the call for help, she didn’t hesitate rushing to his aid. It was how she always treated her younger brother, showing him the same dedication as own children. Graham to understand her needing to go, he would’ve done the same. The thing he couldn’t fathom though was how neither of them were ever seen or heard from again.

Graham’s father, a Deputy with years of experience, decided to go alone in search of her because he knew how uncomfortable his friend was about Changers and the fact he wanted the man’s help caring for his two children. Simon promised he would look after them, wished him luck, and then he and Graham watched the man drive off. It was the last time any of them saw him alive.

Gregory Granthon’s car was found fifty miles south of their town, Martin, North Carolina, which was still over three hundred-fifty miles northwest of his destination. He was still in it. For all anyone could figure, he never came close to Indus. The official claim was an accident. Possibly he tried avoiding a deer or some other obstacle, lost control of the vehicle, and flew off the road. It had tumbled down a fifteen-foot slope and into the trees, where it came to rest on its roof, buried in the foliage. There it remained for days before anyone discovered it.

This was another thing Graham had difficulty accepting. His father was known throughout the town as the one deputy you didn’t even consider trying to outrun. The man was a superb driver and had been cruising the roadways of Martin and the surrounding areas for years. He may not have been born here like his sons, but he knew it well and Graham refused to accept the report at face value.

He desperately wanted to discover the truth but felt unable to pursue the matter with any vigor until he ensured his brother’s future. This was his second goal. In one year forty-eight days he would reach the age needed to secure their freedom. He intended to leave that very day and when he did, he would take Grady with him. At eighteen, he would have direct access to his trust and that in turn would grant him the ability to hire a lawyer and begin the process of removing Simon as his brother’s caretaker. It was why he raided Simon’s home office years ago. Since the man never even looked at the paperwork any longer, Graham confiscated everything he needed, including his parents wills and his and Grade’s birth certificates. He’d copied the documents and, leaving the copies in the man’s office, kept the originals.

After that, it would at most only be a couple more years before Grady graduated high school and enrolled into college. Once he was there, Graham intended to pursue the people responsible for his father’s murder with as much vigor as he currently placed in guarding Grady.

He wasn’t the only one who believed his father was murdered. Simon also felt this way but instead of finding an ally there, he found an obstacle. When they were younger, ‘Uncle’ Simon had been a kind and joyful man who showed them the same love he did his own daughter. Even after the vanishing and death of their parents, Simon initially remained friendly but that changed over the years.

Graham knew what caused it. Back when the man worked with their father, Simon disliked Changers. However, following the death of his friend, that intolerance had grown, festering into full-blown loathing bordering on the same hatred demonstrated by certain bigoted organizations. He viewed them as the real people responsible for the loss of his closest friend. The fact the man was one of only a very few people who knew that both Graham’s uncle and mother had been Changers only amplified his distrust of them, particularly toward Grady.

Having close relatives as Changers did slightly increase the odds for the Granthon brothers to experience the change however, that change didn’t typically happen until a kid reached their teenage years. The transformation from Norm to Changer ranged between the ages of eleven and twenty-one, with the majority of documented cases occurring between thirteen to eighteen, otherwise known as the change potential years. Both Graham and his brother were currently in this age bracket. He had just over a year to reach its conclusion while Grady was in the first quarter of his second.

So far, he saw no sign of changing and it was his fervent hope that he wouldn’t find one. Of course, not all Changers displayed this physically so Graham remained ever vigilant for any form of unusual activity from them, around them, or those they knew. It was these non-physical changes that most worried him since he knew there would be no advance warning. Stories of men and women reaching their early-twenties before realizing they were Changers weren’t uncommon and in those cases it was impossible to set their actual change date. He wasn’t nearly as concerned about a change occurring that late since they would at least be well out of here, away from Simon.

If either actually became a Changer, they would immediately be removed from the area and sent to Indus. Four decades ago, laws were enacted and the Extraction teams created specifically for this purpose. It was why Graham so feared the change. If he changed, he would loose the ability to protect his brother. If Grady changed first, he could deal with it and would actually move to Indus at the earliest opportunity. However, if he changed, then it would leave Grady at the mercy of Simon. The biggest problem though, was Simon’s belief that Grady was already on his way to completing the change.

Grady was born with a unique feature that set him apart from most kids. His eyes were so unusual that those few who actually saw them always commented on how beautiful they were as they stared mesmerized into his gaze. Graham never seemed to notice this himself and Simon’s reaction was completely different. The man saw the abnormality as a ninety-nine percent actuality that Grady would become a Changer, and that it was only a matter of time before he became a danger. The man didn’t seem to care that the doctors simply referred to it as a normal birth defect.

Graham had been watching Simon’s dislike for his brother grow into contempt over the past couple years, reaching the point where he no longer spoke to Grade and barely acknowledged his presence. Which was why Graham carefully manipulated the man’s growing agitation, transferring it from his brother to him. It cost him a beating on nearly every occasion but he could withstand it. Grady could not.

Graham wasn’t an extremely large guy but he was built strong but his brother was another story. At four-seven, Grady was small for his age and would be lucky to hit five foot by the time he reached eighteen. One strike by the six foot two man would send his brother flying across the room.

You ever gonna finish getting ready or spend the rest of the day admiring yourself?

Graham shifted his gaze in the mirror and saw his brother’s reflection. The fact Grady was in his room didn’t bother him. That the boy managed to sneak in, climb onto his bed, prop back lazily against the wall, and sit there watching in a overly-acted bored fashion, without hearing him make a sound was surprising. He knew he’d been fairly deep in thought but didn’t think he was so far gone not to notice his brother’s presence.

Not that I blame you, Grady continued, his expression playful with the usual huge grin tugging the breadth of his mouth. From what the girls keep saying you’re quite the catch.

Graham turned to face his smiling brother. He was glad to see him in such good spirits, but that was something about the youth he never worried about. Grady was almost always in a good mood and his smile seemed perpetual. Nothing pleased him more than to see his adolescent brother happy.

Graham dedicated his existence to Grady’s care, assuming the role of their deceased father even though he was a little less than three years older. Seeing him grow into this friendly, compassionate and intelligent young man filled him with a pride only a parent could know. It made all his sacrifices worthwhile and he was pleased to see him turning into everything he wasn’t.

Grady was very easy going and talkative. He made friends everywhere he went and freely shared his thoughts with them. His heart was open to all and he seemed to empathize with others in a way Graham wouldn’t dare. For his part, Graham’s desire to review everything from all possible approaches before responding tended to give others the impression he was distant and aloof.

Unapproachable, however, never seemed to be a problem. Not that he wouldn’t have appreciated it since for some odd reason most of the kids at school viewed him as some sort of guru, constantly vying for his attention and insinuating themselves into his good graces.

What? No comment? Smile fading, Grady pushed forward to the edge of the bed.

With his gaze tilted up toward him Graham was able to see his entire face. For a change the young teen wasn’t wearing his glasses, a pair of non-prescription lenses that darkened in degrees proportionate to the surrounding light. He also kept his dark brown hair parted slightly in the middle and flattened, dropping it forward to conceal his forehead and fall over his brows. The combination of the glasses, too long bangs, and his short stature, kept Grady’s full visage rarely visible. They were all steps he began taking to hide his eyes.

Grady began doing this about five years ago after Simon made a humiliating comment that deeply upset him. The problem with Grady being so free with his feelings was that it made it too easy for someone to hurt him. Graham would never forget how awful the boy felt and considered it another thing he planned to one-day settle with the man.

However, at this moment he was just glad for the rare opportunity to fully see his brother and again note what made his eyes so fascinating. Grady’s irises were the deepest, darkest blue he’d ever encountered. The pupils that hovered in the center were what made his gaze so extraordinary since they weren’t black, but a shimmering violet color that merged with the cobalt irises. It gave the appearance of two single orbs, one within the other, vice the separation of two circles. Additionally, this made it appear as if there was an extra-dimensional effect, giving the illusion of binary black holes, which was why those few to actually see them tended to describe a sensation of tumbling in.

Graham heard that feeling described and wondered why he never seemed to notice it. Perhaps it was because he’d been looking into his brother’s gaze since the moment he was allowed to approach his mother and the new baby. He had placed his then small finger in the baby’s tiny hand, gazed deep into his unique eyes and rejoiced when the little fingers curled around his. From that moment forward, Graham could always feel his brother, sense how he was feeling, and know his approximate location. Their mother told him it was gift, a bond that only true brothers could know. Graham suspected she augmented the link but never voiced this opinion to either her or his brother.

You okay, Gray?

Yeah, he crossed the room to stand in front of him. Just thinking.

That’s a new one. The boy reached out and traced Graham’s latest bruise with his fingers. Looks painful.

It’s okay. He responded with a portion of the truth. Though it didn’t hurt so much now, it had been one of the worst he’d taken. Leftover from work. Doesn’t hurt.

Since Douglas’ extraction, Simon had been in an even fouler mood than normal and the past few weeks had only gotten worse. Graham figured Simon’s biggest problem lie with the fact that Doug was his nephew and the thought the teen was related to him must’ve rankled. It didn’t seem to matter that the relation was only through marriage. The man lived in a world of black and white where he was right and everything else was wrong.

This last bruise was the result of a particularly evil mood the half drunk man was in the other night and when Graham approached him to collect the trust allowance he and his brother would need for school, Simon went off. As usual, Graham took everything the man could dish out with stoic resolve. He never gave him the satisfaction of seeing the pain he inflicted and when he struck him several times in the side with his boot, Graham had simply lay where he’d been struck down and accepted the impact. His only concern at the time was the same as always, keeping Simon away from Grady.

When it was over, Graham worried he might have a cracked rib and could only hope it wasn’t the case. He couldn’t afford a trip to the hospital. Another reason he accepted the beatings was out of fear that if he ever reported Simon, then he and Grady would become wards of the state. If that happened, the possibility of them being separated increased dramatically and there wouldn’t be a thing he could do. All the money their parents left them, including the insurance policies, would do no good until he reached his majority. Until then, he would continue to accept whatever he must.

By the next morning the pain had subsided and his fear of needing medical attention evaporated with it. His movements were no longer as restricted, so he was sure there was nothing for him to worry about but it still hurt unlike any of the others he’d received. Even now, two days later, as Grady worked his fingers around the purple and black bruises, he could feel it stinging but refused to react. As much as he desired not showing pain to Simon, his thoughts against revealing it to Grady were magnified tenfold. He didn’t wince or jerk away from the sharp pain that lanced through him when his brother hit a particularly rough spot, especially since the boy looked up at him as he lightly pushed on it.

It looks really bad, Gray. Maybe you should see someone. Grady looked and sounded like he was having trouble buying Graham’s response. Graham wanted to get his attention off the injury.

Really, I’m good. You however, should reconsider this. He reached over and pushed the young teen’s hair back from his face.

Grady had inherited their mother’s gentle, angelic features and their father’s round dimpled cheeks. The combination was very handsome and, at the rate he was going, Graham imagined his brother would end up with an appearance that would make male models jealous, even if he never did acquire the height. The older girls and women always doted over him like a lovable little doll and those his own age were beginning to look at him in a new light. Graham hadn’t missed the glances and huddled whispers from those little ladies whenever the boy was nearby. He absolutely hated the thought Grade felt forced to hide his face and the reason behind it. His brother was a free spirit and this was one of the few chains keeping him down.

Grady playfully swatted his hand away. Just couldn’t resist, could you? He joked while reaching up to smooth his hair back into place. Then he stopped in mid-motion, his hand hanging unmoving in the air as he stared into Graham’s eyes. You’re not okay.

It wasn’t a question. Graham knew his brother hadn’t felt his concerns since he’d become rather proficient at blocking that much from him but had easily seen through his defenses. Not too much of a surprise, though, since Grady was one of a few people who could do it. No one understood him more clearly. Graham should’ve known better than to hide anything from him once he’d already discerned something was going on in his head.

He grimaced and dropped down beside to the diminutive teen, draping an arm around his shoulders. From the time of their parent’s loss, he’d spent many hours holding his brother like this, passing his support to him and keeping him centered. This time though, it was he who needed to gather strength from his brother’s slim shoulders.

Grady didn’t push him away or dodge out from under Graham’s arm, as he would’ve when in public. A recent change that began over the last year, not from a rift growing between them, but from the fact his brother got it into his head that too many displays like this was a sure-fire way to social destruction. Graham understood and didn’t pressure him. Even though he personally didn’t care what others thought of him, Grady felt he had an image to uphold. Not just his own either, he had self-appointed himself the caretaker of Graham’s social appearance and it was a job he took very seriously.

What’s going on in there, Gray? His voice was more subdued than usual as he continued his scrutiny.

Nothing really, he smiled. It was more a slight tug at the edge of his mouth than an actual grin and about the closest he normally came to smiling. Just thinking about some things, Grade, that’s all, really.

When aren’t you thinking about things? His expression grew serious. It’s Doug, isn’t it?

Graham looked away nodding. It didn’t surprise him that Grady quickly hit on exactly what was troubling him. What astounded him was that he hadn’t realized how much it was affecting him. He’d avoided dwelling on his missing friend but now that Grady mentioned it, Graham knew why he was feeling so moody and his roving thoughts suddenly made sense.

He and Douglas Ryner had quite literally grown up together and a day hadn’t gone by when they didn’t spend a few hours in each other’s company. Until six months ago when his closest friend became the only survivor of an auto accident that left ten others dead. The teen’s miraculous survival turned out to be due to the fact he had, without realizing, become a Changer sometime during the few months or, for all anyone knew, years prior.

You miss him. Again Grady didn’t have to phrase a question but Graham nodded anyway. And not looking forward to today without him.

Astonished, he glanced back down at his younger brother. He’d always known Grady to be an intelligent young man but his tendency to be a bit flighty sometimes overshadowed it. Right now though he was demonstrating remarkable insight and a level of maturity Graham was unaccustomed to seeing. As he studied him, Grady’s broad grin returned and the illusion was shattered.

Well, look at the bright side, at least it won’t be as distracting for you today as usual. Doug would’ve spent the whole day plotting the downfall of the rest of the senior class. So, come on, Captain Moody, get ready. Grady elbowed him playfully in the ribs and though it shouldn’t have hurt, the boy inadvertently struck right in the spot Simon struck him last and it sent a shock through him that he was just barely able to contain.

He shouldn’t have worried about Grady seeing though since the hyper teen was already ducking out from beneath his arm and moving to the closet. Without a glance back he dove in and began shuffling through it. Graham may not have been looking forward to the resumption of classes, but his brother was nearly bursting with excitement.

He never asked or insisted Grady cloistered away with him during the summer and the few months leading to it, but the boy did just that. Before, he was spending quite a bit of time with his newest friend, Matthew Diecon, but following Doug’s extraction, Grady rarely left Graham’s side. Although Graham preferred any opportunity for seclusion from others, Grady thrived on social gatherings and was raring to resume contact.

Let’s see, shirts… gray, dark gray, light gray… Grady was calling out from the closet. Graham smiled and crossed to the dresser. Pants? Black, black, black… Sheesh, plan on adding any color to your wardrobe this year? Black, Gray…

Graham collected a pair of socks and a tee shirt from the dresser and began pulling them on as Grady, grumbling, emerged from his closet with a pair of black cotton cargo pants and a dark blue button shirt. Neither may have been the latest style, not even last year when he purchased them, but they were inexpensive. Graham never bought anything costly for himself. He had other plans for whatever money he earned working and what he saved from their allowance.

Wow, it is blue! Grady feigned amazement. Unbelievable!

If you’re done… he held out his hand and Grady passed the clothes to him.

Setting the shirt down, Graham pulled on his pants as Grady turned back to the closet and retrieved his duffle bag from the floor. His brother was very aware of the fact he never went anywhere without it. The thing was old but he maintained it in the best possible condition and, though the heavy canvas material appeared weathered, it wasn’t overly worn or coming apart. Grady slipped the bag over his shoulder and stood waiting, not too patiently, for him to finish.

You got everything? He asked slapping the side of the bag.

Graham nodded. You?

Waiting downstairs.

You didn’t leave it in the middle of the floor, did you?

No, I didn’t leave anything in the middle of anywhere.

Sylvia will skin you if you start that again this year.

I know, I know, Grady rolled his eyes. I promise not to be a slob this year.

You said that last year.

For real this time.

Graham paused in the midst of pulling on the shirt to stare at his young brother. Grady actually squirmed under his gaze before throwing his hands in the air.

Okay, okay, I’ll at least try.

Smirking Graham reached over and ruffled his brother’s hair a second time, earning him a disgusted look. Then he took hold of the strap and Grady let the bag fall from his shoulder before pulling his hair back down over his eyes and slipping his glasses on.

Why do I bother combing it?

Graham smiled at the exasperation in his tone. He grabbed up his wallet and keys and the two of them left the room. On the way down the stairs he did a quick check of the time and saw they had a little less than half an hour before they had to leave. He would prefer to be on the road in twenty but, judging from the aroma hanging in the air, he doubted they would make it that soon.

Entering the kitchen, they found Sylvia at the stove, stirring a pan filled with eggs, meats, vegetables and spices. Although Simon changed over the years, his wife remained the same steady, sane person. In his opinion, Sylvia Corbin was a Godsend. He was certain she knew she could never really replace their mother but it didn’t stop her from trying. She went out of her way to give them the feeling they were welcome and, in many ways, to make up for Simon’s ill treatment.

Graham saw that Grady loved her dearly and she had a special place in her heart for the boy. He knew the need for Grade to have an adult influence in his life and she filled the role nicely.

An unspoken pact existed between him and the woman where she deferred to him over most matters involving his brother. One he was sure would not have been allowed to continue if he ever demonstrated he wasn’t capable. If he faltered, she would quickly pick up the reigns. For this, and so many other little things too numerous to list, he owed her greatly.

There you boys are, she turned to them smiling. Have a seat, biscuits are in the oven, eggs are nearly done, and I’ll have you fed in no time.

Morning, Aunt Sylvia. Grady beamed as he swooped across the kitchen, rose to his toes, and kissed her on the cheek. My you’re looking exceptionally lovely today.

Stay out of the pan.

Graham didn’t hold back the small smile as he watched Grady hop away from Sylvia’s raised wooden spoon, thrusting his hands behind him in an effort to show her his intentions were innocent. With his back to him, he couldn’t see the expression the boy was giving her but judging by her suspicious gaze, Graham expected it was his best puppy look. She was smart not to trust him. Then she glanced over the top of Grady’s head toward where he still stood in the doorway. His smile vanished as their eyes met.

Good morning, Graham.

Morning, Sylvia. Unlike his brother, he rarely referred to either her or Simon with titles anymore. He didn’t blame her for all that happened but since that first beating he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge any relationship with the man, even through his marriage to her. She had noted the change but never asked about it. Graham suspected she didn’t want to know the reason for it.

He knew too that she was dealing with everything as best she could; being forced to watch the change in her husband’s behavior toward them couldn’t be easy. She still loved the man, just as she loved them, and the tension between Simon, Grady and himself had put enough of a strain on their relationship. He doubted it would survive if she discovered the true depth of his disagreements with Simon and was positive it would demolish her. Like Grady, the woman gave out her heart far too easily.

Well don’t stand there brooding the morning away, sit.

Nodding, he stepped into the kitchen and headed for the attached breakfast nook. Smiling brightly up at him from her seat at the table was the Corbin’s only child, Doug’s ‘twin’ cousin