“I’m someone who cares about her,” said Malcolm, sidestepping the question. “And I’m here for answers.”
He flexed his hand. Part of him wanted to cut to the chase and attack Brenden, hurt him until he gave up the story that Rose was seeking. He forced the urge down, knowing that violence might have the opposite effect and lead to Brenden refusing to say anything.
“Answers…” mumbled Brenden. “Yeah, cause those are so easy to come by in life.”
There were bottles on the floor, more than there should have been, given that he’d only been in the motel room for a night or two. Brenden’s breath smelled of whiskey even though Malcolm was standing well clear of him.
“She needs to know the truth,” said Malcolm. “Will you give it to me?”
He almost hoped that Brenden would refuse. It would give Malcolm enough of an excuse to do what he really felt like doing. He pictured Rose holding her stomach after Brenden had shot her, the look of betrayal and despair on her face.
“The truth,” muttered Brenden. “I wanted her to remember the truth. I wonder if she’d even believe me if I told it to her straight.”
He reached over to the room’s small table, picking up several different liquor bottles and setting them back down until he found one with something left in it.
“She wants to hear it, regardless of whether it’s easy or not,” said Malcolm.
“But she sent you…” Surprisingly, Brenden’s voice carried a note of hurt in it. “She sent you to ask her questions and do her fucking dirty work.”
“She sent me because you tried to kill her,” said Malcolm.
He wanted to say more about that, to share with Brenden how much pain he’d put Rose through by offering it back to him, first hand. Malcolm took a slow breath and forced himself to be patient. Brenden started chuckling, apparently sensing his struggle.
“Alright then,” said Brenden. “Why don’t I tell you the truth? Does that sound swell to you, mister concerned boyfriend?”
Malcolm didn’t say anything. Brenden took another drink, steadied himself, and then nodded.
“Rose… Rosalina… was one of the first,” he said. “She discovered her gifts on the day of the Phenomenon. I was with her when it happened. I won’t go into detail about what we were doing at the time, for your sake.”
He grinned, and Malcolm felt a surge of unnecessary jealousy.
“She was powerful,” said Brenden. “She helped people. She was the fucking poster child for how a person should act when given an advantage over others. She linked up with the Champion Watch, that’s what it was called before it became the Champion Authority. She did it full time, fighting criminals. Fighting monsters. The works.”
Malcolm had already assumed as much about Rose’s past, based off what she’d told him. She had, over time, remembered a few details. The last year leading up to her becoming a spryte, however, was still a mystery.
“What happened when she turned?” asked Malcolm.
Brenden let out a long groan.
“You just want to jump straight to the point,” he said. “Fuck it. Fine. We were leaving for vacation. They called in a travel warning on the radio, some kind of demon who generate blasts of concentrated force. It was between us and the airport.”
Brenden smiled slightly, but there was such sadness in it that Malcolm almost felt bad for him.
“Rose was so confident,” said Brenden. “She thought she could just take him on, right then and there, and we’d be able to keep going. Enjoy the Bahamas, like we’d been planning.”
Brenden locked eyes with Malcolm.
“The demon hit our car,” he said. “We flipped over two, three times. I was stunned, but okay. Rose was already out of the car. Hope… was in the backseat. My daughter… Our daughter.”
Malcolm couldn’t stop the surprise from showing on his face. Rose had told him once before that what she’d really wanted was a normal life. A husband, kids, a yard with a picket fence. Did she know that she’d once had it?
When he turned his focus back to Brenden, the expression on the man’s face made it hard for him to want to hear the rest of the story. There was too much pain there, and too much loss.
“She would have been okay,” whispered Brenden. “She should have been okay! I thought she was in her damn car seat. Just a little baby, didn’t even notice she wasn’t still under the blanket. I was dazed, and stupid, stupid, so fucking stupid. I pulled the carrier out and I was sprinting away. And then… Rose just lost it.”
Malcolm closed his eyes and ran a hand through his hair.
“She lost it,” Brenden repeated. “She went fucking psycho! Her skin, her face… she was suddenly just like the monster she was trying to protect us from. And it spread out from her, wrecking everything. Like a fucking black hole.”
Brenden had to take a minute to breathe, drink, and shudder before he could continue. Malcolm waited, though he didn’t need to hear the end.
“Hope wasn’t with me,” muttered Brenden. “She wasn’t in the car seat. And when Rose, or whatever she’d turned into was done, there was no car left. Hope was just… gone. Do you get it? Do fucking understand why I came here, now? I need to stop the thing that killed my daughter.”
It took Malcolm a couple of seconds to realize that Brenden was waiting for him to say something.
“She didn’t kill your daughter,” he said, slowly. “That wasn’t her, Brenden. She wasn’t in control.”
Even as Malcolm spoke the words, he knew that they were not what Brenden needed to hear. Fury overtook the man’s face.
“You weren’t there!” he screamed. “You don’t understand! I have to do this. I have to make her remember… and then…”
Brenden pulled the gun out in a sudden rush of movement, aiming it at Malcolm’s face.
“Tell me where she is,” said Brenden.
Malcolm used his wind manipulation, tearing the gun loose from Brenden’s hand before he could get a shot off. He sighed, feeling more sympathy for the man than he’d expected to.
“Brenden,” he said. “Killing Rose isn’t the answer. It won’t change the fact that your daughter’s dead.”
He leaned forward, trying to meet Brenden’s eyes as he looked away. Brenden let out a sigh.
“Maybe she’ll kill me,” said Brenden. “Maybe that’s what I’m hoping for.”
“Brenden…” Malcolm sighed and looked away from him, feeling emotionally fatigued. Brenden shifted and reached for something. Malcolm thought he was picking up a bottle of whiskey until he heard the crackle of electricity.
Pain and numbness surged through him, originating in the bare flesh of his neck, where Brenden had thrust the end of a taser against him. Malcolm crumpled to the ground, black stars dancing across his vision.
A taser. Electricity. My weakness.
Brenden snarled as he leapt onto Malcolm. He’d picked the gun back up and struggled to get the barrel against Malcolm’s head. Malcolm could only barely hold him at bay, his muscles cramped and weak from the high voltage shock.
“I’ll kill you, and then I’ll kill her!” shouted Brenden.
“No!” Malcolm pushed hard, twisting the gun around and turning the barrel toward Brenden. His hand closed over Brenden’s clenched fingers, and the gun went off. The sound of it was horrifying, as close to his ears as it was, but the blood splatter, and the instantaneous loosening of Brenden’s muscles was even worse.
The bullet had taken Brenden in the chin, sparing his face, but exiting up through his skull and brain. Malcolm rolled him to the side, looking down at his blood soiled shirt, and then at the gun still in Brenden’s hand.
He stared at the unmoving body, his emotions roiling. As he calmed down, Malcolm was surprised to find that he wasn’t shocked or disgusted by what had just happened. He felt cold, empty, and above all, relieved.