Page 44 of Fabricated

“Are you my dad's dad or my mom's dad?” I stumble out.

He tsks. “Your dad's father. Your mom's family is wretched. I despise them.”

I purse my lips to hide my smile. I don’t even know why I am smiling. But, shit, this is my grandfather. “And your last name is?” I ask, making my first play.

He smiles, a twinkle in his eyes. “You’re trying to get ahead of my story. Clever, but sadly, it won’t work. I want to talk about your family and where we came from.” He moves his domino, making points on his first move. I narrow my eyes at him as he writes his points on the card.

“If you won’t tell me your last name, then I don’t see how that’s going to help me.”

“All in good time.” He looks at me, a smile playing on his lips. “You have your grandmother’s eyes.” He clears his throat. “Anyways, our family line can be traced back further than humans want to believe we’ve existed. We are descended from the great ancient Egyptians. Whose religious views were—”

“Polytheistic,” I cut him off, blushing at my boldness.

He smiles. “Very good, and what do you know of them?”

I straighten. “They believed in gods and goddesses. They believed these supernatural beings controlled the human world as well as the nature in it, and they also believed they controlled the supernatural world. Their people loved them so much they wanted to keep them happy. To assure their way of living continued, or that’s what I’ve gathered from it. They would make sacrifices to the gods, constantly worshiping them to pacify the deities and spirits of the supernatural world, also known as the afterlife.”

“I’m amazed by your knowledge. So, shortly after America was founded, one of our ancestors, Edmund, moved and settled into America. He brought with him his polytheistic religion, since it has been passed down for centuries, but instead of leaving it alone he decided he would make a new… culture.” He scores more points as I’m distracted by his story, just tossing dominos out.

“A culture?” That’s strange, but honestly, this whole situation is strange, so I keep an open mind.

“I believe he called it a religion, but that definitely was not what it was. Edmund was a bit mad, maybe ate something old that poisoned his brain, you never truly know about back then. Edmund truly believed he was chosen by the deities to form a new branch of their religion.You see, he came with loads of money, so he was influential in the small community he resided in, therefore, he was able to gather a small group of people to start this culture.”

“I’m not really following.” I scrunch up my nose, and he looks at me with fondness as I do so.

“Trust me, in time you will understand. Now, where was I? Yes, he ended up gathering the most powerful families of that time to join his group. A small percentage that held the most money in the country. Now, I could tell you their names, but I’m afraid I’d be killed. Sometimes words are people’s biggest threat. Instead of sticking with the rituals, Edmund decided to make his own. They were ungodly. Sacrificing peopleto the gods. Making people commit crimes to be initiated into the group, and such horrors I will not be disclosing with you at this time. But he stayed true by speaking in a corpuslanguage. This group changed the world. Forming banking systems, inventing trade routes, pouring more into agriculture, becoming big in the government as well as constructing buildings that built America. They changed much more that we cannot speak of at this time. In fact, we are out of time.” He rises to his feet and I stand with him. Confusion dancing in my head.

“But what does this mean for me?” I ask, a tremble in my voice.

“Sweet child, all in good time. It will all be revealed in time. And one day, we will continue.” He looks over his shoulder and I follow his gaze as Branson walks over to us. A scowl on his lips. “I despise that family as well.” My grandfather sighs.

“Sir, is there anyone you do not despise?”

He chuckles. “My wife. I loved her dearly, and so far I quite like you.” He smiles.

“And when can I see you again? I have more questions.”

“Soon.” He turns, walking away, leaving me feeling more confused and eerie than before.

Branson grasps my elbow, dragging me back to the car with him. Once we’re in the car and he buckles my seatbelt, I open my mouth to speak, but he cuts me off.

“Who was that?

Frowning, I say, “My grandfather, I believe.”

“And where did you meet him?”

“The park,” I respond defensively.

“And what did he say?”

I lie smoothly, wanting to protect my grandfather and the cryptic knowledge he gave me. “I’m not really sure, he seemed a little senile, to be honest.”

Branson snorts, opening his mouth again, but I cut him off. “What’s with the twenty questions, Lexington?”

“Fuck, I don’t know. You make me fucking crazy, Rayne.” He grips the steering wheel, his knuckles turning white.

I smile, looking at my hands as I twist them together. “It’s because you care.”

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