Fractured Truth

Robert's Safehouse - Worcester, MA

The radio crackled to life in the dimly lit room, cutting through the rhythmic scraping of steel on leather.

"...body discovered in the Webster Square alleyway just yesterday. Chief Gary O'Connor had this statement..."

Robert's whetstone paused mid-stroke along his dagger's edge. The tinny voice continued:

"We're working closely with UMass Memorial Medical Center on forensic analysis. The victim exhibited injuries consistent with animal attacks, though the medical report notes unusual lacerations and..."

The radio's glow flickered against the wall of photographs-snapshots of another life. A smiling family of three: a dark-haired boy of seven between his parents. A candid of Diana laughing by a lake. Their wedding portrait, her veil caught in a phantom wind. The coffee maker gurgled its completion just as the reporter mentioned "tissue samples showing traces of an unknown toxin."

Robert set the dagger down. Its polished surface reflected the map dominating the far wall-Worcester's streets crisscrossed with red yarn, connecting ten pinned photographs. Each face bore the same slack-jawed expression of the recently dead. He took a long drag of black coffee, the bitter taste doing nothing to wash away the memory flashing behind his eyes:

Diana's fingers, slicked with her blood, pressing against her ribs, those claw marks still painfully visible. "Robert," she'd gasped, "why would they...?" Her mark flickered out like a dying light.

CRASH!!!!

The mug hit the counter with a sharp crack. He walked toward a map pasted on the wall, his dagger plunged into a center photo-a gray-haired man with military tattoos.

"You are all part of it, and I'll hunt you all down until I find him."

**************************************

Blackwood University| Infirmary

Consciousness returned like a struck match-sudden, painful, leaving behind the acrid stench of antiseptic. I blinked at the sterile white ceiling, my muscles screaming as if I'd run a marathon in my sleep.

"Finally!" Mike's relieved face swam into view. "Dude, I was five minutes from fireman-carrying your ass back to the dorm."

Lidia leaned in, her green eyes laser-focused. "How are you feeling?" Before I could answer, she snapped at Mike, "Get the nurse." He scrambled out.

The moment we were alone, her fingers dug into my wrist. "What happened, Ethan?"

"Just... stacking books," I lied, tongue thick. "Then everything went black." The phantom pain of that damn book slamming into my chest still echoed between my ribs.

Nurse Avery arrived in a rustle of starched white fabric, her penlight dancing across my pupils. "No fever, no concussion," she mused, flipping through my chart. "Probably dehydration and stress. First-week jitters, hm?" Her smile didn't reach her eyes as she handed me my phone. "You're free to go."

Eight missed calls from Dad. 8:30 PM. I'd been out for hours.

**************************************

Campus Pathways

Mike filled the silence with increasingly absurd theories about my collapse. "...or maybe you're allergic to library dust."

Seriously, though, are you okay?"

Lidia lingered half a step behind, her questions needling: "Did you remember anything unusual before fainting? Feel anything?" Her gaze flickered toward my face as if watching my reaction.

My phone rang. Dad's caller ID flashed.

"Son? Are you-"

"I'm fine."

"Been trying to reach you for-"

"Detention. Phone confiscated." The lie came too easily.

"Detention? First week and you're-"

"Stopped some bullies. Dislocated a guy's arm."

The silence stretched like a tripwire. Then, quietly: "You used your strength on a civilian."

"Not on purpose! It just-"

"Listen to me very carefully." Each word came sharp as a knife strike. "No hospitals, no police reports, no loose ends. That's how we stay hidden. You remember what happened when-"

"I remember!" The words tore out of me. Mike and Lidia turned. Lowering my voice, I added, "It's handled."

Another pause. Then just static and his resigned sigh. "We'll talk this weekend."

Then click.

**************************************

Dorm Room

Mike face-planted onto his bed with a dramatic groan. "Remind me why college was supposed to be fun?"

I barely heard him. My shirt hit the floor as I made for the shower, but Mike's whistle came from behind.

"Damn, Bro! Since when did you rock such a full-back tattoo?" He circled me like an art critic.

"That's some next-level ink. Why a book though? Looks ancient-like those creepy illuminated manuscripts."

Shocked i hurried to the bathroom my fingers found raised skin where smooth flesh should be.

The bathroom mirror confirmed the nightmare-my birthmark had transformed into an exact replica of that old book's cover. The book image etched onto my skin leaving a brand. I headed for the shower. The steam seeming to raise from my body as water splashed against my back as if to curl away from the design.

**************************************

Lidia's Dorm

Lidia paced like a caged panther, her phone buzzing with another ignored call.

"It was there," she muttered. "The energy surge pinpointed its location. Then nothing."

She froze mid-step. "Unless..."

Her phone rang again. Three rings. Four. On the fifth, she finally answered:

"We need to talk about the book."