4: Derrick

Original circa 1994-5 version. Scroll down for the 2007 rewrite.

DERRICK

CHEBOYGAN WAS A small city; Damien may have been famous but most certainly not everybody knew who he was; and even those who did, at least in Cheboygan, usually left him alone when they saw him. Sometimes he would still get people crowding around asking him for an autograph, though they were usually out-of-towners and he didn't mind that, not at all; generally it was just people standing on the sidewalk gawking at his car, or asking to touch it. He decided it was his car that actually got more attention, and the realization made him want to laugh. Maybe he should drive a Datsun or a Buick and then people would pay attention to him. That was just fine, though, since the reason he lived there was to escape all that. But Cheboygan was also his home, and he preferred it to the big city, so that was that.

He would often drive out and park on the side of the highway to look over at a large old railroad bridge spanning the emerald-green, twisting snake of the Cheboygan River; that was the last place he had seen his sister before--what had happened to her happened. He really didn't like to think about it but couldn't help it; just like with the ring of fire, he had dreams about her too, only they were much more common; he had them almost every night. The others could see this--or sense it--so her name was never mentioned, at least not around him. He could only hope they never talked about the two of them behind his back. If he ever found out they were, he didn't know what he'd do.

Her name had been Lilu, and she'd been murdered down near the bridge, where they used to sleep at night--they didn't really have a house, since their parents were gone, the rest of the family scattered. But someone had cut her heart out. And done other things to her. All while he was gone, off doing some trivial thing. No one knew who'd done it or why. That had been about three years ago, in May of 1986; a few people--mainly, the police--knew about it but mostly it went unnoticed in the news because of the implications. Cheboygan wasn't the kind of place where such things could happen.

Unfortunately, Damien thought bitterly, this did.

He'd done his little bridge ritual today, after dropping off a batch of lilies at Lilu's grave--he never placed any other kind of flower there, it was always white lilies, without fail--and then drove downtown to sit on the dock along the river. No swimming was allowed because of boats, though he assumed the pollution was reason enough to keep out. He didn't really care to swim anyway; so he just sat there with his feet dangling above the water, staring at the boats and ducks and swans going by, occasionally throwing a piece of bread he'd brought along to them. It was hot out already, being July, and as such there were other people walking around or lying in the park; across the street Dairy Queen was as busy as ever. Damien ignored all the chatter around him. He was starting to study the few green-tinted objects he could see on the riverbottom when someone behind him coughed quietly. He turned his head.

There was a man standing there, about his age, twenty or so, with tousled, dusty-brown hair and blue eyes; he was looking at Damien closely, as if he knew him, though Damien was sure he'd never seen this guy before in his life.

For a moment neither of them spoke. Damien finally realized he would have to start the conversation if he ever hoped to get anywhere.

"Yeah?" he said, raising his eyebrows, hoping to sound merely curious and not rude.

"You're Damien, right?" the man asked, tilting his head forward.

Damien nodded, slightly puzzled. "And you're...?"

"Derrick," the man said, holding out his hand. Damien took it. "Derrick Grant. Listen, I was hoping I would find you eventually." He cast a glance around the park, a glance that seemed almost wary. "You've met up with your uncle, what is it, Father Damien?"

Another nod; though Damien found he was growing slightly suspicious. "Yeah. Excuse me for being rude, but why exactly are you here?"

Derrick looked at him closely again, then shook his head as if forgiving him. "It's not rude at all. I just thought you might like some information."

Now Damien was getting interested. He sat up a little straighter. "Information? On what?"

Derrick sat down on the dock beside him but did not dangle his feet above the water. Instead he sat Indian style, away from the edge, as if he thought he might fall in. "Your uncle told you about this cult?" he offered.

Damien stiffened again. He shouldn't know that. "Yeah, he did," he said after a minute, his voice cautious. "How did you know about that?"

Derrick smiled slightly and shrugged a shoulder. "Don't worry," he said, "I've heard of them too. And I can tell you a little about them, if you want."

"Of course I want," Damien said, now turning to face him, bringing his feet up from over the water. "For one thing, just what are they? Why are they so interested in my uncle and me?"

"They're a Satanic cult," Derrick said. "That much I'm sure you and your uncle know. You were with them as a kid, weren't you?"

Damien nodded. "I was born into it. But we escaped. My uncle helped us."

This time Derrick nodded. "That's why they want you," he said, as if any connection were apparent. "And your uncle."

Damien was surprised. "Why? Because we escaped? What's the big deal? We left them alone. I never tried to get after them for anything." A voice in his head added, Not yet I haven't.

Derrick shook his head. "That's not it. They lost members. People aren't supposed to get out. Not alive." Damien was beginning to feel uneasy. He wondered just how Derrick had gotten to know so much about this cult. And why he was talking to him now. Who else besides his uncle and himself knew? "That's why they want you. The only way you get out of the cult is dead."

A pause. Damien turned back to the river; Derrick did the same, and they both stared across it for some time, at the condominiums neatly littering the other side. A motorboat slipped past, leaving a rippling wake which made some paddling ducks bob up and down. "Does this cult have any kind of name?" Damien asked.

Derrick nodded, still staring across the river. "They call themselves Scorpio. After the eighth sign of the zodiac. The Scorpion."

"Stylin'."

Derrick looked over at him and seemed a little annoyed by this statement; however, he said nothing and looked back toward the river, his gaze resting almost uneasily on the rippling green wavelets.

"Listen," Damien said, raising his hands, "let's make a little deal here. Since you don't seem to be quite in the talking mood right now, let's meet again, and you can tell me more about this cult thing. What do you say?" He tried to look Derrick in the eyes, but the other made no contact. Instead he thought it over for a minute, then shrugged and nodded.

"All right," he said. "Where?"

"I don't know. How about the city beach?"

Derrick shook his head adamantly, as if the idea alarmed him. "No. Maybe we should just go to a restaurant or something."

Damien wondered what was wrong with the city beach, but said nothing and instead nodded. "All right then."

Derrick stood up, and Damien followed suit. He held out his hand and they shook again. "Nice meeting you, Derrick Derrick Grant," Damien said, causing him to smile, a small, wary half-smile.

"Just Derrick, Mr. Damien," Derrick said in return. He took a step back. "Dairy Queen, day after tomorrow, around noon?"

A shrug. "Sounds good enough."

"Good. I'll see you th--" He suddenly tripped over a little warp in the wood and swung out his arms with a yelp, attempting to regain his balance before he plunged backwards into the river. Damien reached out and snatched his arm, pulling him up. Derrick stood shakily, casting a look back at the water below into which he'd nearly fallen, and let out a shuddery breath.

"Th-thanks," he stammered, rubbing his neck and looking guilty.

"No problem," Damien said, puzzled.

Jeez. I knew it was polluted, but not that badly polluted.

He glanced down and noticed that, when Derrick had been yanked forward, a necklace he'd been wearing had snapped its chain and fallen to the dock. He bent over and picked it up, looking at it closely. It was a small, round, medallion-type thing, made out of what seemed to be glazed clay, black with a red symbol painted on it, resembling an M with a tail.

Damien rubbed the pendant with his thumb and turned it over. "What's this?" he asked.

"Oh, that," Derrick brushed him off, holding out his hand. Damien gave it to him. "Just a little thing a friend gave me. Listen, I'll see you day after tomorrow, all right?"

Damien nodded. "Till then."

"Till then," Derrick echoed, and left the river and the park behind, slipping the necklace over his head as he went.

Damien watched him until he was out of sight, then sighed and sat back down, staring once more into the water.

**********

Rewritten 2007 version. Not proofed.

CHAPTER FOUR
DERRICK

DAMIEN'S SELF-PREDICTION, ABOUT not getting much sleep, wasn't entirely accurate, though it wasn't for lack of bad dreams. He again saw the promontory and the ring of fire and the man with the goat skull for a head, waving his arms and yelling out chants that Damien couldn't quite understand, but this time it was more like he was watching it from the outside, as an observer, and thus it didn't frighten him nearly as much. In fact he found it rather intriguing, like walking in on the middle of an odd movie on TV without quite knowing what the plot was, but having a decent guess about how it would turn out.

He felt a presence at his side and turned his head to see his uncle, Father Damien, with arms crossed just like his own were, also watching the proceedings. As soon as Damien looked at him his uncle turned to meet his eyes and said, as if appraising a piece of art, "See, it's dramatic, but it's like I've seen the same thing a hundred times before."

Damien's eyes popped open and he gasped but didn't scream. He blinked a few times before realizing he was in his bed. He let out a breath of relief, then frowned to himself at the odd dream. He sat up and rubbed at his stiff neck.

"Leave it to my dreams to start criticizing me for being repetitious," he muttered, when a sudden burst of very loud yelling from the direction of the den made him lift his head with a blink of surprise. For the briefest moment he tensed, ready to jump out the door and face whatever was happening out there, before noticing that the shouting sounded happy rather than afraid.

He was just climbing out of bed when a knock came at his door and before he could answer it, it opened and Katrina stuck her head in, hand over her eyes. "Decent?" she whispered.

Damien rolled his eyes and stretched his sore neck. "It's nothing you've never seen before anyw--" He cut himself off when she let out a very weird growl and said, "Yeah, I'm decent! Cripes, what happened? Somebody win the lottery?"

Kat slipped in and shut the door. She pressed her ear against it for a moment as if listening, then pulled away and gave him a reproachful look, hands on hips. "How could you! What kind of brother are you? You didn't even say a word? I wouldn't be surprised if they all decided to gang up on you, and I could just hit you in the head myself..."

"Maybe this'll make a better impression if you tell me what the heck you're talking about," Damien said, starting to feel peeved. He glanced at the clock and saw that it was only a little after nine; maybe that was why. "Look! It isn't even noon yet!"

"I can't help it that your uncle's more of a morning person than you are!" she hissed in response; then, seeing his blank look, she furrowed her brow. "You mean you didn't plan this...?" When that got no response she punched him in the arm so he yelped. "DAMIEN! You're even WORSE than I thought!" She pointed at the door. "Your uncle just showed up and of course, it's the first time your family's seen him alive in YEARS! They didn't even have any idea until I told them about how the two of you met up yesterday!"

Damien winced and rubbed at his forehead. "Ugh...I'm sorry, I forgot. I made plans with him to stop by today, but I guess I forgot to inform the others...and I had no idea he'd stop by so frigging early..."

"The rest of us do have lives, and normal sleeping habits," Kat retorted. "And I'm sure I got a million things wrong trying to explain to all of them just what the heck was going on when this person they thought was DEAD for over a decade just happened to show up on the front step! I mean, really, Dami, I know you believe in the casual approach and all, but still, a little heads-up would've been good."

"I'm sorry," Damien said again, a sulky note entering his voice. "They're obviously over their shock, aren't they--?" He paused to listen to all the excited-sounding talking going on down the hall.

Kat glared at him for a moment, then let out a gusty sigh. "Yeah, they're over it. But the moment they remember that you knew about this a full day before they did and didn't say a word, I'm not going to stop them when they gang up on you. I'm fortunate NOT to live with all my siblings under one roof, thank goodness." She turned, yanked the door open, and exited the room.

"Love you too, sweetie," Damien grumbled under his breath, giving up on his sore neck and kicking aside a shirt as he made his way to the door. He walked silently down the hallway and peered into the den without entering. Father Damien was seated upon the couch, and Damien's siblings were gathered around him, the other members of the household standing and sitting in various other parts of the room. The priest looked to be getting plied with all sorts of questions, and although he seemed overwhelmed by the attention, he smiled at all of them, and didn't resist when every so often one of them would give him a random hug of disbelief. He looked almost like a celebrity getting fawned over by adoring fans, and Damien's mouth twitched when he remembered the first time such a thing had happened to him. He hadn't been prepared for it either.

He almost stepped into the room, then paused, and took a step back. His brothers and sister were so busy chattering and asking questions, and his uncle was so busy answering them, that he hated the thought of walking in and interrupting it, especially with the sort of chaos that Kat had predicted. He doubted that his siblings would gang up to beat him senseless, but still, cutting in on Father Damien's time didn't seem fair. Plus, after the strange dream, he was a little unnerved seeing him again in person.

With a small sigh he slipped into the kitchen instead, and out toward the back porch and outside. The air hadn't gotten fully hot yet, as it was still rather early, and he took a deep breath and let it out, then repeated this a few more times, trying to figure out why he felt so rattled and tense. He was perfectly fine with large groups of people; and, if in a better mood, he bet he could've handled the reunion currently going on in the den. But for some reason he felt more like being alone right now.

He got in his car and slammed the door, buckling himself in and then staring out the windshield with his hands resting on the steering wheel. It was a few moments before he started the vehicle and pulled out of the driveway, heading north up the highway. Sometimes the best place to think was a place that under most normal conditions he didn't care to visit much.

A short drive later, his car was parked safely alongside the road while he himself stood in a not-so-safe position, along the highway bridge spanning the river, leaning on the side railing and staring out at an old rusted railroad bridge which also spanned the river not that far away. A sign off on the right bank of the Cheboygan River announced that this area was soon to become the Waterways Campground, but that sign had been there a long time and so far the area was mostly undeveloped. A small uninhabited island sat like a hairy lump in the middle of the river on the opposite side of the railroad bridge which had itself been out of use for years, though Damien still had memories of the sounds of trains once going over it, not long before the traffic stopped for good. Some people wanted the bridge torn down as it was rather an eyesore. Others talked of it being converted into a snowmobile trail, since the rails themselves had long since been torn up and vanished. Nothing had been decided yet, so there it still stood, paralleling the busy bridge he now stood upon.

Damien wasn't quite sure whether he wanted the thing torn down or not. On the one hand, he hated it, and he had plenty of reasons why. But on the other, tearing it down just seemed so...wrong.

"I don't know if you're here or there today," he said out loud, as if to the bridge itself. "Of if you're even anywhere. Wherever you are, I hope it's not here. So...I have no idea why I came here." He rolled his eyes at himself. "They'll cart me away in a jacket, if I keep this up."

He sighed and leaned his head on his arms, ignoring the cars whizzing by behind him, and traced the black bars of the bridge with his eyes before his stare wandered down to the river, and to the grassy overgrown riverbank below. That very bank had been home to him, for a while. And to his younger sister.

He came back...but you won't ever come back...

A car honked as it swept by, and he made a face. "Thought I was going somewhere to think," he muttered, and stood up with a stretch, turning and heading back to his car. Driving downtown seemed like a decent idea. At least downtown had no bad memories of any sort, and he could rest and think for a while before considering what to do next. While he was grateful that the uncle he'd long thought dead was back, there were now a million extra thoughts in his head, and that was a million more than he was used to dealing with. It was overwhelming, what he could learn now, and he had to put his mind in order before dealing with it properly. He wasn't sure he could take it all in at once.

He made his way into the heart of the small city and parked along Main Street, then wandered through Lincoln Park, past chattering people relaxing and eating their ice creams from Dairy Queen just across the street, and ended up upon the dock edging the river. Condominiums littered the other side, and he had a feeling that more would come at some future point. He sat down and dangled his feet off the dock, resting his elbows on his knees and his head on his hands as he stared at a small group of ducks swimming by. They floated his way hopefully, then grew bored and moved on once they realized that he had no food on him. He watched them waggle their tails and listened to their soft quacking. A boat went by, and small waves slapped against the legs of the dock, making hollow thumping noises.

I've barely even talked to him about Mom and Dad. There's so much I want to know...but I'm afraid of learning it. I already know our past is messed up, so what am I afraid of?

I'm afraid...because he didn't show up with Mom and Dad with him...I'm afraid of what that must mean...

He lowered his eyes to study a piling encased in cement, long since sunken to the bottom of the river, when a soft cough came from behind him, then a voice said, "Excuse me, are you Damien...?"

"Sorry," Damien murmured without turning to look, "don't feel like signing anything right now."

He heard a noise as of feet shuffling awkwardly against the grass. "Actually...I was hoping to talk to you personally. I don't want an autograph, no offense."

Damien blinked. Don't want an autograph? He lifted his head and twisted himself around, lifting one foot to brace himself against the dock, and took a look at the person interrupting his thoughts. It was a young man, about twenty or so--around his own age--with dusty brown hair and blue eyes, his hands stuck in his pockets. He had faint shadows under his eyes and for a brief odd moment Damien wondered if he got much sleep, before telling himself it didn't matter, as he didn't even know this person.

"Yeah?" he said, when the man didn't say anything else.

The man looked him over a little bit, as if to make sure that it was really him, before coming down the slope. "I'm Derrick--Derrick Grant. Good to see you," he said, holding out a hand so Damien took it and shook. "I'm sorry to interrupt when you're busy, but it was either this or follow you all over, and I'm sure you get enough stalkers..."

Damien's mouth twitched. "Actually, I have none, but thanks for the comment. There was something you wanted to talk about?"

Derrick pursed his lips for a moment, as if considering carefully what he should say, before stepping onto the dock. "Yes," he said, "sort of."

"Well..." Damien waved at the dock beside him. "You're welcome to sort of talk, or whatever."

After another pause Derrick sat down beside him, Indian style, giving the river a strange look; he clasped his hands over his ankles as if afraid that his legs would somehow kick away from him and carry him into the water. "I'll just be honest," he said. "I know your uncle from the church, and I found out that the two of you finally met."

Damien blinked.

"I know you wouldn't take it too well if I tried hedging around about it," Derrick said. "I mean, it just seems in your character, is all."

"So you know my uncle?"

"Kind of, yes. I've talked with him a few times. I have to admit I'm not a regular churchgoer." He gave an awkward smile which made Damien relax a little bit, for some reason. "Actually the first time I talked with him, he saw me leaving after a service and asked to speak with me personally. I guess he thought I might need somebody to talk to when the truth is church has never really been my thing." He shrugged. "Anyway...even after I told him that he was very nice about it and talks to me whenever I show up, so I got to know him a little bit. He told me not that long ago that the two of you were related--after he said that I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it sooner, you look kind of similar and have the same name--and he was going to try to get in touch with you soon. I don't know, maybe he was asking for advice. I told him it's a bad thing to lose touch with one's family--he should definitely go through with it."

"So basically you're to thank for getting my uncle and me back together."

"Well...not really, no," Derrick said. "But I like to think that your uncle at least somewhat likes me, if he was willing to tell me something like that. I never even knew he had any relations until he mentioned you, so I take it he's a pretty private person." He pushed himself back from the edge of the deck a little. "But in any case...that's basically how I heard about you two meeting. I don't want you to think I'm some kind of weirdo who goes snooping around or anything. It was actually something else that made me decide to come looking for you, since I know you don't like being bothered much."

"Well, it's not like I'm going to breathe fire on you or anything," Damien said. "What is it you need?"

"I think your uncle actually said a little more to me than he wanted to," Derrick said, a serious look settling on his face. He lowered his voice a little so Damien unconsciously leaned toward him a bit. "He said that your family'd had some trouble..." He trailed off, biting his lip, then took a breath. "The direct approach. He said your family'd had some trouble with a cult."

Damien stiffened. "He told you that--?" he blurted out, before thinking, and only then did his mouth clamp shut and he mentally rebuked himself though he didn't know why.

"Like I said, I don't think he meant to," Derrick hastily replied. "Because when I asked about it he looked kind of embarrassed and said it was nothing. I didn't pry. But that was enough. What I learned from him over time, basically, was that he lost track of you when you were a little kid, because of this cult thing, and he said something about 'escaping' and now he wanted to get back in touch with you. He never said anything else, so if you're mad that he told too much, please don't be, I'm the one who did most of the looking around. After he mentioned that I couldn't help it; I went and started looking through old newspaper files at the library. So please don't think your uncle told me anything he shouldn't have. If anything I'm the one who poked around too much, but it was only because it sounded kind of familiar." He took another breath and let it out, meeting Damien's eyes. "Did he say this cult was named 'Scorpio'?"

Damien just stared at him blankly. After a moment or two Derrick's brow furrowed, then he bit his lip again. "I guess he didn't," he said, and flushed a little, rubbing at his neck. "Maybe I've been wasting your time! I'm really sorry if that's so...I thought this might be a dumb idea." He started to get to his feet."

"Hold on," Damien said, and Derrick froze, casting him a look. He sat back down slowly.

"You said you went looking for info because what my uncle said sounded 'familiar,'" Damien said. "What exactly do you mean by that?"

"Oh." Derrick rubbed his neck again, then sighed. "Well...my family had trouble with a cult once too. It was around the same time I figured your family had trouble, that is, if we're around the same age, which it looks like." The two of them looked each other up and down. "I couldn't find much in the papers but I found a few things," he went on, and Damien knew that he must have seen the small article on his sister's death, but Derrick didn't mention it. "One thing I found was a story about the remains of a fire that was started and then burnt itself out about twenty years ago in a big field..."

The blood drained from Damien's face. Before Derrick could look at him and notice he said, "What's that have to do with anything, though? Wildfires start out in fields all the time."

"They said it looked like it was deliberately started," Derrick said, "and there were bullet casings, and lots of footprints, but nothing ever came of it; they just figured some kids were out shooting guns and setting fires and causing trouble like usual." He looked at Damien again, and the frankness in his eyes was enough to unnerve Damien. "They shot at your uncle and you, didn't they? Because that's what they do when people try to escape."

Damien's mouth fell open. "How--"

"I said my family had trouble with them once," Derrick interrupted. "Judging by the look on your face," he added, "I'm guessing that my guess was right, and that was no group of kids firing off guns and setting fires."

Damien's mouth clicked shut and his jaws clenched. "I wouldn't know," he said. "I guess I'd have to see the paper. But if you know anything about this cult, then why are you here talking to me? Are they after you, too?"

"No," Derrick said. "That was a long time ago. They have no reason to come after me."

"So you know about them? And you say they're called Scorpio?" Damien had to admit to himself that he hadn't even known that they'd had a name. He turned around to face Derrick, so abruptly that Derrick jumped a little and scootched back. "If you know about them, and came to talk, then tell me about them. Because for some stupid reason, newspapers don't like printing up stuff about cults."

"I didn't come to give out info," Derrick said, looking and sounding rather affronted, as if Damien had just grabbed him with filthy hands and demanded spare change. "That part of my family's history is behind me. I just thought you could use some advice, since your uncle--"

"You didn't come to give out info?" Damien echoed, and stood up--Derrick hastily stood up as well, perhaps expecting some sort of attack, as he took another step back. "Look," Damien said, voice grating, "I've been sitting here for the past five minutes listening to you blathering on about what you know and now you tell me you're not here to tell me jack? Either you tell me what you know, or--"

"How do you think cults work?" Derrick snapped. "Secrecy! What I know is probably little more than what you know. The advice I have is basically it. I was going to tell you that, now that your uncle's back in touch, you should watch your back, because Scorpio doesn't like it when they lose members. That's it; that's all. Is that enough?"

These words caught Damien offguard long enough for Derrick to scowl and cross his arms. "And how would you know that," he finally said, "if your history with them is over?"

"I just do," Derrick said stubbornly.

"You said they aren't interested in your family anymore. So why mine? What's the difference? My uncle and I are leaving them alone, why should anyone have to watch their backs?"

"Because you're valuable to them," Derrick said, and when Damien opened his mouth he started to pivot on one heel. "You and your uncle are talking," he said, as if attempting to override what he'd just said, "and that's bad enough. As long as the two of you were apart and not talking, it was fine, but now that you're back together, you might want to watch what you say. Like I said, they don't like losing members, and they really don't like when people talk."

"You're talking!" Damien said, and took a quick step forward to try to stop him before he could go clambering back up the slope.

"That's--" Derrick started to say in an indignant voice, before his foot went out from underneath him and he let out a startled yelp, arms pinwheeling as he plunged toward the river. Damien instinctively reached out to grab him by the front of his jacket and hauled him forward, managing not to lose his own balance; Derrick grasped his arms and fell against him, and they both stepped back from the river. It was a moment or two before Derrick would let go, and Damien tried not to wince at just how tightly he was gripping his arms, his fingernails digging in. When Derrick finally let go he was sure he'd have some bruises in the morning, and he rubbed at his arms surreptitiously.

"You okay?" he asked, still feeling peeved.

Derrick was gasping for breath and as white as a sheet, but he managed a shaky nod. "Y...yeah...I'm ok-kay." The water slapped against the legs of the dock and he shuddered, turning away. Damien frowned at how awful he looked; Derrick even rubbed his own arms, as if cold, even though he was already overdressed for the weather.

"Can't swim?" Damien asked, perplexed by his reaction.

Derrick started to shake his head, then nodded and let out a breath. "Sink like a stone," he said, and shivered, making a face.

Damien pursed his lips. "Well--I would've jumped in and pulled you out, you know. You may be irritating me but I'm not the type to just watch someone drown." Before Derrick could reply he said, "Look--it's obvious you know more about this...'Scorpio'...than I do, no matter what you say," he added when Derrick opened his mouth to protest. "Maybe it's not much more, but it's more, and that's what counts. You say your family was messed up with them, my family still is messed up with them. Maybe you can help me out. I'd really like to talk about this further, if you'd just talk more about it."

"I haven't really anything else to say," Derrick insisted.

"For some reason I find that hard to believe," Damien said, then, "Just meet me somewhere so we can talk it over, okay? And then if you REALLY can't think of even one more sentence, one more word to say, I'll drop it. But you have to admit that you're the one who came to me first." He paused. "I was going to recommend the city beach..." he saw how Derrick's face went white again "...but how about DQ instead. My uncle and I seem to always end up there anyway."

Derrick gnawed on his lip and fiddled with the zipper on his jacket. "I really don't have anything else to say," he said weakly.

"Dairy Queen, day after tomorrow, around noon," Damien pressed. "What do you say?"

Derrick hesitated for a long moment, and Damien could tell that he truly didn't want to meet up again, but when he lifted his eyes the singer gave his best smile. At last Derrick let out a weary sigh and rubbed at his head.

"Fine! Though you're just going to go home disappointed..."

"Hey," Damien said, turning and starting to head up the slope, Derrick following, "you should've considered this BEFORE you came to see me. You claim to know my personality so well? Then you should know I don't just let things go. Hold on a minute." He stopped and looked back at the dock, then went back down and picked something up. He looked it over curiously, then let it dangle from his hand as he approached Derrick. It was a round little medallion, enameled black with a red M-like figure on it. "Lose this?"

"Huh--?" Derrick patted at his chest, then looked himself over. "Oh!" He took the necklace back and stuffed it in his jacket pocket. "Stupid chain. Must've broken when I fell." He dusted off his hands and ran one through his hair. "Day after tomorrow...?" he said, and Damien nodded. "Any reason why that day in particular?"

"No real reason," Damien said. "Just that my uncle and I, we still have a lot of talking to do."

He said it quite purposefully, and when Derrick gave him a dark look, he felt that its purpose had been met. He suppressed a smirk until the other man had turned away and was making his way back up toward the main part of the park. "See you then," he called after him, and, when he received no response, turned back to the river, crossing his arms and staring at the rippling water.

I guess I should just be used to it, he thought, fame attracts all kinds. But for some reason this Derrick Grant didn't strike him as a psycho. Not a complete one, at least. He had given him more than a few things to think about until they should meet again.

Continue:

"5: Fainting Spells" 


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