My position within the household was made apparent the following morning, when I was not tasked to work with the other Kaldr. Guy’s opinion on the matter muted, his eyes set on things other than me, he sipped his coffee while I tentatively poked at my sausage and eggs, his gaze occasionally straying to Amadeo when he would make an appearance within the room.
“Is there anything else I can get for you?” he asked, looking from me, then to Guy.
I shook my head. Guy stood and rounded the counter as he finished off his coffee to set it in the sink. “I’ll be back,” he said.
I didn’t bother to ask where he was going. After disappearing out the threshold that led into the living room, and which would eventually take him to his parents’ quarters, I felt no need to pressure him for an answer, especially after what happened last night.
“Is everything well?” Amadeo asked.
I nodded. “Yeah,” I sighed. “Everything’s fine. I’m just worried. That’s all.”
“About what?”
“Me tying him here.”
“If he didn’t wish to be here, Jason, he wouldn’t have brought you here.”
“I know.”
“So don’t lay blame on yourself. Things will come to fruition, whichever they may be.”
I considered the plate of half-eaten food before me and pushed it forward. “You want this?” I asked.
“No thank you,” Amadeo said.
“I haven’t seen you eat anything.”
“That’s because the Kaldr do not have to eat.” His lips perked into a smile. “We are creatures of the flesh. There’s no need for us to consume solids when we feed on the heat of others.”
It made sense. Guy’s aversion to eating had only became apparent once we’d entered the Elliot household. Before, he’d eaten just as I had. Now, I’d yet to see him touch anything.
“But you can eat,” I said.
“Oh, of course. It is more a novelty than anything, though.”
I sipped my soda and watched Amadeo carefully. He’d chosen to dress casual this morning, as he had when I’d met him the previous day—in long cargo shorts and an undershirt whose armholes stretched down to reveal his defined ribcage. I’d tried to gauge his age since we arrived, but as of yet couldn’t. Guy’s father looked only slightly older than his son—Amadeo I couldn’t place at all.
While his age didn’t necessarily matter, given his immortality, it only served to remind me of Guy’s aversion to the subject.
“Sir,” I said, piquing his interest when he blinked and focused his eyes on me. “Can I ask something? About Guy?”
“Feel free.”
“He’s never told me how old he really was. He… claimed to be thirty, but… well… with you being immortal and all—”
“My son was born a Kaldr, but stopped physically maturing once he turned twenty-five, as most men are bound to do. But to answer your question: he is as old as he claims in both human and Kaldr terms.”
“So he wasn’t lying,” I said.
Amadeo shook his head. “Guy’s reputation may lie within his past actions, but he cannot be blamed for them. He was young—raised by Kaldr the moment he was born. He was educated here, cared for here, taught everything he knows here—including how to drive. His passions for men were only bridled when he began sleeping with the other Kaldr, which drove his father mad.”
“Because of his legacy?”
“Because of his antics. Age and stubbornness has quelled much of his behavior, but he still exhibits the frustration from being trapped here for so long.”
“Do you blame him?”
“No. I don’t. Which is why I pushed Elliot to allow him broader freedom.”
“Are you the one who let him leave?”
The man didn’t reply. Normally, his silence would’ve spoken for itself, but in a case like this, it could have meant all manner of things.
“To answer your question,” Amadeo said, “it is no secret that I supplied Guy with the necessary tools to live on his own. I gave him the money, the resources, the falsified degree in business marketing he would’ve received at a standardized institution—I even drove him to Austin on the pretense that we were going in for supplies.”
“So you left him there.”
Amadeo nodded. “Yes, Jason. I did.”
I was tempted to ask how Guy’s father had felt about that—to the point where the question lurked on my lips like some great swarm of moths to be breathed from the devil’s mouth—but I stopped when I realized I already knew. The disparaging comments made even upon our arrival were enough to ensure that notion.
Idly, I sipped my drink while trying to think of what to say next. Amadeo had not proven to be much of a talker, only going so far as to initiate conversation when he felt necessary.
My eyes strayed past him—to the expanse of windows looking out at the work being done on the ranch.
“What all is done here?” I asked.
“We’re completely self-sufficient,” Amadeo said, turning to view the outside world. “We plant our own food, raise our own meat, work water from the surrounding wells—the only thing we don’t harvest is power, and our clothing comes from occasional runs to the larger towns and cities.”
“How many people are there?”
“Of the Kaldr clan?” Amadeo asked. “Only fifty. Our numbers have diminished over time.”
Thus the need for procreation.
“That isn’t to say we aren’t strong,” the man continued. “We are masters of disguise. We hide in plain sight, fake appearances, sway those who question with charm or lust. The only real problem we’ve had has been with people leaving, and even then that hasn’t resulted in any—”
“Who’s the person killing people in Austin?”
Amadeo paused. His eyes—cast to the other Kaldr in the field—turned to examine me with a sense of confusion and distress. “I beg your pardon?” he asked.
“The Kaldr. Who’s doing it?”
“I’m not sure I—”
“It’s not Guy, Amadeo. I’m not sure what Mr. Winters has been telling you, but… there was no reason for him to hurt anyone. Not when he was so beautiful and happy with his freedom.”
“You’re suggesting someone else killed those people?”
I narrowed my eyes. “Do you honestly believe it was Guy?”
He said nothing. A disturbance from the room above quelled any reply that may have come next, but after the floorboards stopped creaking and there came no sound of footsteps down the stairs, he centered his dark, steely gaze on me—boring into my soul with an intensity not made from anger, but belief. “No. I don’t.”
I didn’t push the subject. I finished the drink and rose to locate a waste disposal, but was stopped by Amadeo when he rounded the counter and wrapped his hand around the can.
“Don’t speak of this to anyone,” he said.
“I—”
He pried the can from my hand with force previously unknown to me. His smile, as charming as it happened to be, spelled wicked in its intention. “It’s a nice day today,” he said. “Why don’t you go find Guy? He’ll be working in the fields. Just don’t stay out too long—you wouldn’t want to get burnt.”