by Emery Skye
"I know you have questions," he addresses the situation at hand. I'm grateful for his directness.
I think I nod.
"You want to know what those things were?" he advances the conversation, realizing that I'm still mute. I'm sure this is a change after listening to me scream and cry this evening.
I know I nod.
He breathes deeply and his chest broadens as it rises. "Those creatures are what we call Hordes."
"Hordes," I repeat. The word is foreign on my tongue and taste like vinegar.
He nods in approval.
"So, they weren't human," I press.
He chuckles, "No, definitely not human."
I don't understand why he thinks this funny. I'm relieved that he didn't kill a human, that would have been too much for me.
I'm also way too accepting that mythological creatures exist and I know it's because I don't want Hunter to be the bad guy.
"Why did you kill them?"
"Because If I didn't kill the Hordes...they would have killed us," he explains.
"Why did it come after us?" I ask.
Hunter shakes his head. He tosses an article on my temporary bed. I look at with narrowed eyes. "What does an article have to do with an alien thing coming after us?"
"Alien," he repeats stunned. "I wish that it was a damn alien. No, Hordes were once humans who sold their humanity. They were exiled to the caves and after time, what you saw is what they became," Hunter says.
All of this is foreign. New. Strange. Scary.
My neck is stiff and my eyes are tired.
"So, the Horde wanted us dead. But, why? It knew my name, Hunter." I rest my palm at my heart and watch Hunter's face redden in anger and a tick work his jaw.
"Yes, it did, Lexi. It wasn’t after us, it was after you.”
My stomach drops. What the hell is Hunter talking about? This makes no sense. Why would some alien thing want me? Is it some sick cult or something? Was I marked or something? I don't even know what marked means, but it sounds like a cult word.
Clearly seeing the panic on my face, Hunter shifts closer, so we’re sitting side-to-side. I jerk away from him, but he puts his fingers under my chin and tilts my head up. Our eyes meet. I welcome the warmth that characterizes Hunter. His eyes, cold usually, are warm and welcoming. "Lexi, it's okay now."
I nod.
He wraps his arm around me. At first, the gesture is awkward, then it feels natural as our bodies meld together as one.
"So, those Hordes have been killing the girls," I speak into his shirt. I’m beginning to connect the dots like it's a picture. Each of those girls was ravaged to the point where the reporters said it was difficult to identify the bodies and with sickening realization, I know those creatures are more than capable of inflicting such damage.
Hunter pulls me out of his embrace and gazes down at me with hooded eyes. I know he's about to tell me something worse. Worse than what? Worse than death? Worse than a gruesome death? What could be worse than that?
I'm about to find out.
"No, Lexi. Hordes are lowly creatures that follow the command of higher-ups.” The way he uses the word higher-up makes me think of a business structure.
"What higher-up?" I ask inquisitively.
"Lexi, can you tell me what happened to your family?" he hedges. I'm puzzled by the strange turn of the conversation. I don't know if I want to tell Hunter about my family. That's one sad story I'd like to keep off tonight's agenda.
"Do I have to?" I ask shyly. I feel like a small child.
“Lex, you’re shaking,” Hunter rubs my arms with vigor.
“I don’t think I can, Hunter. I don’t think I can do this,” I wrap my arms around my middle.
“Lex, you are so strong. You can handle this, you can handle anything, I believe in you,” he tells me. He searches my face and I search his eyes. I think he’s telling the truth.
“Why do you need to know about them?” I ask.
“Lex, there is so much at stake,” his jaw tightens. “I have to know. I have to know you’re the one.”
“The one what?” I plead.
“Please, Lexi. Trust me.”
I lean away, before standing up. I walk a few small circles. Finally, I gather the strength he thinks I have. I sit back down, facing him.
I drop my head back and compile my thoughts.
"My parents were murdered on my twelfth birthday." I've never said it aloud and it's almost therapeutic.
Hunter nods. "What happened?" he pushes. He's concerned. The sheets on the bed are stifling and grate against my skin. Yet, creepy crawlers travel the lengths of my arms and I'm grateful for the shield Hunter has become.
I was back at my house. The day was both long and tenebrous. Neither Chase, my mom or dad came to pick me up. I was mad at them, but I was sadder that everyone forgot about me on my birthday. I was tired from walking the five miles home. When I reached the white-painted, wooden door, the glass windows were broken. The shards of glass formed geometric shapes on the deck.
I was anxious.
"Mom, Dad," I shouted from outside. No one answered me. I was worried now. Mom was always home after school, getting dinner ready and Dad was usually out back doing some sort of yard work. Instead of going in the house, I went around back to find dad.
"Dad," I shouted into the warm nothingness that surrounded me. I heard a shuffling in the barn and thought mom must have been feeding the horses...again. She always fed Cruiser too much. I ran to the barn, following the white fence that enclosed the arena. I turned the metal handle and opened the white door that complained loudly as metal ground against metal. The barn smelled differently than it normally did. I was hit with a repugnant scent of rotting meat. It differed greatly from the rank smell of manure. Something red sprinkled the swampy-colored hay and onyx stall doors.
The barn was cold, when usually, it was stifling hot this time of year. I wrapped my arms around myself. Slowly, I walked. The smell of decay permeated the atmosphere. I sniffled and sneezed; the only sounds.
It was too quiet. "Cruiser," I whispered into the cold and silence returned.
I screamed in horror at what I found in Cruiser’s stall. Cruiser was lying on the dirt with his eyes wide open. His normally black and white hair was coated with a thick, red, gummy substance. The tears flowed in steady streams down my face. My fingers, hands, arms were numb in shock.
After I don't know how long, I ran into the stall and repeated Cruiser's name like a magical mantra that would bring him back, but the cold nothingness in his eyes was too much to bear. I rocked back and forth like a schizoid and stroked his face softly. His coat was cool under my fingertips, which were now caked in dirt. I shivered and my stomach muscles clenched.
I examined Cruiser, searching for the source of the blood. I couldn’t accept my best friend’s death, but the red was everywhere and now stained my hands. A scream from back at the house tore my thoughts away from Cruiser. I lifted Cruiser's large head off my lap and set it carefully onto the dirt, afraid of breaking him.
I ran to house, following the winding dirt path and leaping from brick to brick, skipping two at a time, tears clouding my vision. I caught my foot on the stairs leading up the back porch and fell to the ground, catching my knee against the edge of the step. Cold blood stained my jeans and trailed down my shin. I pushed myself to standing and limped to the backdoor.
The image of Cruiser flashed through my mind like a broken projector.
The sliding glass backdoor was wide open, but the screen was torn, like a creature with three claws went to town on it.
"Mom!" I shouted. I stopped myself from racing in and reached into my pocket to dial 911. I told the operator my address and said, "hurry," before leaving the phone on and taking the lonely first step into my home.
It was quiet and I was scared. Everything was spattered red: the black leather couch, the marble counters in the kitchen, the brown lampshades...not a single thing escaped the red assault.
"Mom," I whispered. My hair was glued to my forehead in an adhesive sweat and my face was a mess of snot and tears. I kept walking, slowly and cautiously.
My parent's room was the first door at the top of the stairs. I peeked my head around.
My mother and father were lying on the large four-poster bed like dolls whose puppeteers dropped the strings in haste. Their eyes were like bottomless pits of brown, blue and green, devoid of all life. I didn’t hear myself screaming, everything was far away. I didn’t even notice when the smoke clouded my vision or when someone draped a jacket over my shoulder. I didn’t feel myself being lifted and moved down the stairs, or when I was put into an ambulance.
It took the police weeks of trying, before I was able to utter a single word. They asked me to explain what happened and I broke down into tears on the first hundred or so attempts. Finally, the fog lifted enough for me to tell them what I remembered. I asked where my brother was and why he hadn't come to see me. I didn’t even consider that he was gone too. The police left and a man in a brown sports-coat came into the room. He told me Chase was missing.
Everyone who passed by my room, my friends from school, teachers, and Chase's friends, had the same look of pity in their eyes.
I couldn’t stand it anymore. After less than a month of searching for both Chase and the murderer, the police called off their investigation.
I was left alone. Always alone.
TWENTY-SIX
I tell Hunter my story and he listens in silence. He nods once or twice, I'm not sure. I'm worried that if I look at him, I'll see pity in his eyes.
That’s not the case. I stare at his sculpted, scarred face and find solidarity.
I sob in confrontation of the demons that have haunted me for years and Hunter pulls me into his warm embrace that smells like the mountains. He smells like home. At some point, we lay on the bed and he holds me tighter. I welcome the darkness that wraps me in a cocoon and fall into a dreamless sleep.
I wake with the comfortable pressure of Hunter's arms wrapped around my body. I sniffle and groan. I bet I look terrible. I shift to see if he's awake. It feels so good to be here...in his arms. It feels right. The once electrocuting feeling is now like a heated hum beneath my skin and I welcome it. I still don't understand the foreign feelings, but I accept them.
The clock on the in-table flashes 10:30AM. Checkout is at eleven.
"Hunter," I murmur. I try to lift his massive arm off my body, but it’s a wasted effort.
He mumbles something and wraps his arms tighter.
"Hunter," I urge.
He flips his arm off and scans the room; his expression is like a deer in headlights. He looks down at me and I smile impishly. He grins and those dimples strike me still. Then, his eyes dart to the clock and he flips backwards and falls off the bed. I laugh. "Shit."
Before he can get up, I grab my bag and run into the bathroom. I'm dismayed by my haggard reflection. My eyes are red and puffy... hell, my whole face is puffed up like a red marshmallow. I don't know how someone can look like they've lost ten pounds and gained it too, but that's me. How Hunter could have looked at me so lovingly, I have no idea.
I hurriedly apply a little makeup to cover up the red splotches spotting my face like a Dalmatian inflicted with a deadly virus. My scarlet and brunette hair is in compete disarray, but I don't know where my hair-tie is, so I leave it in waves around my face after combing it with my fingers.
"Hey," I say awkwardly when I leave the bathroom. Hunter is dressed in combat boots, dark jeans and a pin-stripe sweater. Normally, I don't think someone could pull off the "I'm cultured and I'm a biker" look, but Hunter does. His hair is still a black mess on his head and the scars are more visible today than normal. I make a mental note to ask him about those sometime.
We leave the hotel in an awkward silence. So much needs to be said. The atmosphere is pregnant with hanging thoughts and needs.
"Hunter," I say at the same time Hunter says, "Lexi."
We stare at each other. Hunter reaches his hand up and grips the back of his neck.
"I'm sorry about last night. I couldn't handle everything," I tell him. His eyes are fixed on the road.
"I know. You don't need to apologize."
Silence.
"Can you tell me who wants to hurt me?" I ask.
Hunter shrugs his shoulders and nods. "Okay. You remember how I said I needed to hear the story about your family."
I nod for him to continue. "I already knew what happened," he admits and I'm slightly baffled. "The Ripper is coming after you, Lexi," he says so calmly he might as well be telling me that he likes to drink water rather than Coke.
"What do you mean? The Ripper is coming after me?" I wish this would all go away. I wish and wish and wish to wake up from this nightmare.
"It gets worse," he says.
I rub my eyes. "You told me a murderer is coming after me and it gets worse? How could it possibly get worse?"
His fist grips the steering wheel tighter. "I need you to breathe. Do you trust me?"
Oh damn...sweet baby Jesus and the devil himself. That's a terrible way to start off telling someone bad news. Do I trust Hunter? He saved my life. I know I should trust him for doing that. Then again, he told me about a supernatural world and little alien creatures and I should think he's nuts for that. I look at him and am in awe as I realize that I do trust Hunter. I trust him irrevocably.
"I trust you," I confess and know it's true.
His eyes glimmer at the news, but quickly, his face falls.
"You know who the Ripper is," he voices. I'm sure I hear him incorrectly.
I flinch. "How? Who is it?" I say skeptically.
"The Ripper is...your brother, Chase."
Buzzing swirls in my ears. I stare out at the overcast sky, not seeing the landscape.
I open my mouth to object a few times, but the tear ducts in my eyes work overtime. I can't think or breathe. My mind’s a flurry of emotions and I can't decipher one from the other.
"You're wrong," is the first thing I say in defense of my brother. Chase is the best person I know, and he was always there for me.
Once, I came home crying because Eric Sanders from the fifth grade made fun of the silly haircut I got. Chase held me while I cried. "Alexis Marie Tolis, you need to go take a shower and wash that snot off your face," he scolded me. I sobbed all the way up the stairs, but did as he said. When I came out, Eric stood at the base of the stairs; his eyes red and puffy.
"I'm sorry," Eric squealed and tilted his head at Chase, who stood glowering two feet down at him.
"For what?" Chase asked, frustrated.
Eric looked back at me with fear in eyes, "For making fun of you and being mean," he sniffled. His auburn hair shined bright in the sun.
"It's okay Eric," I told him and Chase grabbed Eric by the scruff of his neck and threw him out on his keister.
After that, no one messed with me at school.
Or the time, I rescued a baby bird; okay, more like stole it because I didn't understand how mommies could leave the babies. Chase was furious, but he helped me nurse that damn bird to health and send it on its way.
Chase took me to school. He taught me how to be strong when I lost and lifted me when I fell. Chase was my best friend and now I'm supposed to believe that he's killing young girls and wants to kill me too.
"I'm sorry, Lexi," Hunter says and looks at me with downcast, blue eyes. The blue eyes that remind me so much of Chase. If it weren’t for the slight bit of green and almond shape, he and Chase could share the same eyes.
> "I'm not wrong," he tells me with unfaltering confidence.
"Prove it!" I snap.
He shakes his head. "I was afraid you'd say that." Rover slows down and makes it to the shoulder of the winding highway.
"What are you doing?" I fret.
"Calm down." He reaches over the black middle console and shuffles through his bag. I watch as he pulls out a folder, which he hands to me.
A couple passersbys honk their horns. Normally, I would show them the finger, but I don't.
"Chase has been searching for you, Lexi," Hunter starts. "He needs you to complete the Transition." Everything he says is extraneous as I open the folder revealing pictures of my handsome, big brother. There are pictures of him in front of large warehouses. He's smoking cigarettes in many of them and this catches me off guard. I've never seen Chase smoke before. He looks bigger and wears a black suit. I've only seen Chase in a suit once, the all-state football conference and he complained the whole time. His curly blonde hair is cut differently than before. He looks like an expensive, meaner version of my big brother and he looks exactly how I saw him at school the other day.
"My brother is alive," I say aloud and wave the photos at Hunter. "My brother is alive!" I say, more excited.
Hunter's face falls into a deep frown and his eyes widen. He scratches his head. "No, Lexi" he says slowly. "Chase is alive, but he's not your brother anymore."
"I don't know what you're talking about." I point to the pictures. "This is my brother. This is Chase," I assert.
I'm stunned to see Chase in the photos. My brother, my protector, my best friend is alive and he's okay.
"We have to go to him. You know where he is then! Hunter, please! I need to see my brother," I know I'm smiling like a kid in a toy store.
"Lexi, you don't understand--"
"No, you don't understand," I retort. "This is my brother we're talking about. He's all I have left, Hunter!" I'm screaming, but I can't restrain my anger.
Hunter drops his head to the steering wheel and sighs. I examine the pictures, scrutinizing them for any helpful information, but there's nothing. I'm angry that he didn't give me more than pictures.
