Read Sample

Sample from Animalis

When they entered the airport, Jax hugged tighter to the saddle, hiding the blackening blood that had soaked into his clothes. The ICT scanners in the security hall would find the laser tool in his pocket, see who it belonged to, and check his ID to see if it matched. It wouldn’t check for Animalis blood on him. It wouldn’t know that he was a killer.

The door to Grimshaw’s plane opened and he stopped at the top of the stairs. Everything in the plane was white … soft … pure. What was he thinking? Grimshaw was going to be furious. Had he imagined that she would hold him in her arms and tell him that he was safe, that the war didn’t exist inside of her fields of golden wheat?

He turned to walk back down the stairs.

“Jax?” Grimshaw’s soft voice said. She came to the hatch. “Come in, come in. Hank said you left him—”

He turned to face her and her eyes went wide as she glanced over him—and likely saw the dried blood on his hands.

“Oh, Jax, are you alright?”

He shook his head and turned back around. Metal clicked under his boots as he descended the stairs. Now that he had seen her face again, how could he be around her? She couldn’t know what he had done. She didn’t know him, and wasn’t supposed to. She was just giving them a ride. What had made him think he could come to her like this?

But then he heard a light patter from her bare feet following him. She caught him on the last step with one hand on his shoulder.

“Jax, you should come inside. Come on. It’s alright. You don’t need to tell me anything. I’ll get you cleaned up.”

Her hand felt light on his shoulder; he could have pulled away easily. But the lightness—no, the tenderness was stronger than if she had wrapped her arms around him. Tears started to stream down his cheeks.

Grimshaw took his hand in hers. Jax let her lead him back into the Atticus and into one of the cabins. They passed Hodge, who was standing in the living room.

He perked up when he saw Jax with Grimshaw. “Jax, I’m glad to see you! How was your day?” He sniffed, but Grimshaw raised a hand before he could continue.

“Hodge, close the hatch, please. Make sure Moxie and Little Hank are taken care of for a moment, alright? Please, don’t worry—don’t ask questions. Jax needs us right now.”

Hodge nodded and went to close the door to the plane.

“Why don’t you come here and we’ll clean you up?” She went to the small sink in the cabin and started to soak a rag. “Are you hurt anywhere?”

He stared at her for a moment, then blinked and shook his head. “No. No, I don’t think so. I … I can’t tell.”

“Hank was worried you were hurt, the way you left.”

He looked down at the floor. “No, I didn’t get hurt at all. It’s … It’s all … Animalis blood.” He stayed where he was, just inside the doorway of the cabin, hesitant to move.

Grimshaw brought the rag over to him. “Jax, don’t worry about anything in this cabin, we can clean it later. Right now, I just want you to feel like yourself again. Do you mind?” She reached for his hand.

Jax didn’t say anything. She crouched beside him and began to gently wash his hand.

“Sometimes,” she said, “the world crumbles in ways we never thought it could. I have no idea what happened, Jax, but I know that the person I met this morning was good. And it’s the same person I’m with right now.” She stood up and looked into his eyes. “Just do whatever you need to do to survive, Jax. It’s never immoral to stay alive.”

Jax closed his eyes; her words pricked at the fear that he felt building within. He pulled his hand away. “How could you know what you’re talking about?” Jax felt a tinge of anger at her. “You’ve never hurt a thing in your life, you don’t protect yourself, and you love everything you meet. It’s worse than being ignorant.”

“I’m sorry,” she said, giving him a little smile. “You’re right. I don’t know what you are feeling. I don’t know what you’ve done.”

Jax saw that she was now focused on his hand, not irritated at all by what he had said. A tousle of red curls hung down over her nose. She looked up, and he could see into her golden-brown eyes. He realized he was vulnerable, letting her eyes stare into him, and so he looked away.

The rag pressed against his other hand. The dried blood softened from the moisture and soon absorbed into the warm fabric.

Then Jax heard a soft scratching at the door. Something chittered. Grimshaw went to the door, opened it enough to let Little Hank in, and closed it behind him. The little black creature scampered over the floor to Jax.

“He loves you, Jax,” Grimshaw said.

Little Hank stood on his hind legs and began to lick Jax’s hand.

“No!” he said, jerking his hand away.

Don’t lick that, Little Hank! That’s someone’s blood.

He looked at Grimshaw. “How? How could it love me? It doesn’t even know me,” Jax said. “He doesn’t even care whose blood it is—just loves the taste of it.”

“He doesn’t care if its blood,” Grimshaw said as she continued to wash his hand. “All he wants is for you to be clean—and safe. It’s a friend’s instinct.”

“I … killed a man,” Jax said without thinking. But part of him wanted her to despise him for it. “Animalis, too.”

Slap me, Grimshaw. Throw me out of your beautiful white plane.

He looked down at her to see her reaction. The rag continued to scrub back and forth on his hand. She didn’t look up at him. Little Hank moved around his legs, licking his boots and pants.

“I don’t know how many,” Jax kept talking. “A dozen.”

She stood up.

“They kept coming … and I kept killing.”

He noticed that she was almost as tall as he was.

“Some of them were just working there. They had no idea what was going on, and I—”

Without speaking, she wrapped her arms around him. Her chest trembled, and tears dripped down onto Jax’s neck and then his back. She was crying, sobbing.

Jax wanted to push her away before the blood on his shirt soaked into her blouse, but it was too late. His stomach tensed up, twisting into confused knots.

“I’m sorry, Jax,” she said quietly. “I’m so sorry. No one should ever have to kill. You can’t take it back. You can never take it back. And they will never leave you alone. I’m so sorry, Jax.” Her hug tightened. “But you can’t trade places with them. No matter how much you want to. Your blood will never be able to pay the price for theirs.”

Jax furrowed his brow. Had he been wrong about Grimshaw? Had she gone through something like this? It sounded like it, and now it felt like her pain was resonating through him—and it seemed to wash him cleaner than the rag could ever have done. He brought his own arms up to hold Grimshaw’s trembling body.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I didn’t … I didn’t think you would understand.”

As he held her, and she held him, he could feel the knots of hatred loosening inside him: the hatred he had directed at himself as a mask, to disguise his guilt, and the hatred he had used to justify the killing of the Animalis. And somehow Grimshaw, holding him and mourning with him, had given him the forgiveness he needed. Knowing that the person he had unconsciously elected as the symbol of purity could still accept him, he could choose again what he would become and what mark he would leave on the world.

With the hatred washing out of him, Jax could feel the marks that were left. He had saved Hank, and was proud of that. He had survived the only way possible—by killing—but he didn’t want to be put in a situation like that again … ever. He had followed orders that he knew were wrong, that he should have stood against, and it would be the last time.

The outer hatch clicked open and Jax could hear voices. One had to be Hank’s voice, it was sharp and precise, and the other was someone mumbling.

Jax wanted to stay there in Grimshaw’s arms. Letting go would mean acknowledging the world and its responsibilities again. Little Hank ran to the door and sniffed. Grimshaw let go, pulling back to look at Jax. All Jax could see was the smear of blood staining her white clothes.