Page 24 of Cole

“What do you want?” Daniel asked the deputy, his tone laced with annoyance. “I’m not on duty today, and Henry and I have things to do.”

Things to do.

Henry glanced at Deputy Roland, hoping he would stay and not leave him with his father. More than ever, he was terrified of being alone with the man.

“I need to speak with you.” Roland cast a look at Henry and lowered his voice. “In private.”

“It can wait.”

The deputy looked annoyed but didn’t argue. “Take care, Henry,” he mumbled and walked out.

Daniel Pruett stood still and silent until the deputy’s rig drove away. He sighed. “What did you tell him?”

“Nothing,” Henry whispered.

“Are you lying, boy?”

“I’m not. I-I swear.”

His dad inhaled deeply. “I believe you. But if I find out otherwise…”

“I’m not lying,” Henry insisted. “I’m not.”

Daniel nodded. “All right. That’s good… that you didn’t tell him anything. Good for you… and good for him.” The implication was clear; Henry didn’t need him to explain. “What we do together is special. Our little secret. Other people wouldn’t understand. They’re not like us, son. And that makes them weak. And weak people are dangerous because they react in fear to things they don’t understand. You don’t want to be weak, do you?”

Henry trembled, knowing the answer his dad expected. “No,” he whispered.

“Then you must demonstrate greater strength than you have shown recently.” His tone shifted, becoming sharp. “I felt let down during our last lesson. Your behavior was cowardly and weak. That’s finished, understand?"

Shaking with fear, Henry nodded.

With a deep breath, Daniel gestured to Henry. “Great. Follow me. The lessons are over. Now, it's time for the real fun.” He grinned maliciously. “You’re going to enjoy this.”

Henry’s legs quaked as he stood up from the chair. He worried that they might give way with his first step. Yet, he managed to stay upright while he trailed behind his dad out of the house.

“Get in,” Daniel said as he opened the driver’s door of the Bronco and climbed in behind the wheel. Henry walked around to the passenger side and crawled up into the rig. His dad remained silent as he started the engine and backed away from the house. Rather than head down the long driveway, he steered the Bronco toward the barn, driving behind the large structure where he backed up to the rear entrance.

Confused, Henry sat silently in the front passenger seat while his dad left the truck idling, climbed out, walked to the rear sliding door, shoved it all the way open, then returned to the rig. Daniel backed the Bronco into the barn and killed the engine. Rather than immediately get out, his dad gripped the steering wheel, staring vacantly through the barn door into the woods beyond the small clearing.

Henry followed his stare, his heart clenching as he remembered all the times he’d walked those woods with Ezra. His best friend—his boyfriend—was gone now, and Henry didn’t want to think about that… didn’t want to think about what happened to him, or why he’d leave without telling Henry goodbye.

He wouldn’t. You know he wouldn’t.

The vision of his dad going into the root cellar surfaced again, and Henry shoved it away, too scared of what it could mean.

“Son.”

Henry jumped at his dad’s deep voice, breaking the silence.

Daniel cleared his throat and wiped his hand across his mouth, his gaze fixed on the trees outside the barn. “Today is a very special day. Nothing will be the same between us after today. And that’s good. You’re going to discover something about yourself… and about me. Revelations like these can’t be explained; they must be experienced.” Daniel slowly turned his head to meet Henry’s eyes. “All that other stuff? It was to prepare you for this moment, to ready you to embrace your true nature. And you will.” A vague warmth filled his gaze. “I know you will. You’re the son I can be proud of.”

This was the second time his dad referenced Henry’s true nature.

It’s in you to kill.

Henry turned away from his dad, overwhelmed by fear of what his father had in store for him. It wasn’t in him to kill; slaughtering the rabbit had traumatized him. He never wanted to take another life again.

But he’s gonna make you—you know he is.

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