by Jane Hinchey
Spinning on my heel I wrenched open the passenger door and retrieved my backpack, leaving my coat where it lay. Wouldn’t be needing it anytime soon by the looks of things.
“Want a lift?” Agent Buchanan called to my retreating back.
“Nope.” I couldn’t be around anyone for fear my demon would break loose and then they’d all regret forcing me to stay. It was clear some sort of conspiracy was afoot, I just didn’t know what and I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to find out.
I heard a car door slam and footsteps jogging my way. “Were you following me?” It seemed highly suspicious that he showed up when he did.
“I was driving by.” He replied, matching his strides to mine.
“Well if you wanted a date…” again, sarcasm to the rescue.
“I don’t.”
“Ouch.”
“But I might be the one person that can help you.”
“Help me? Thought you wanted me to help you?”
“Both. Mutual assistance.”
“You don’t know me Agent Buchanan. Ask the locals, they’ll tell you.”
“That you’re crazy? Mental? Insane?”
“You forgot crazy good in bed.” I stopped and faced him. “What do you want from me?”
“I want someone who knows the area, the people. I want you on my team.”
I laughed, “you must be desperate!”
“The situations desperate.”
“And what exactly is the situation?”
“Deaths. Three so far. Officially – coyotes. Unofficially? Vampires.”
“I don’t do well with authority or taking orders.” I didn’t want to think about vampires, didn’t want to remember. “These days I barely do sober.”
“Then I’ll just ask your brothers. Or one of your cousins.”
“Leave them out of this.”
“Clearly I’m talking to the wrong Shelton. My boss considers what’s happening here in Maxxan as urgent and they will do whatever it takes to resolve the situation.”
“Good for them. Don’t follow me again. I don’t like surprises.”
Chapter Six
Standing in front of the refrigerator I surveyed the contents. A handful of leftovers from the wake. Two beers. Grabbing one I popped the top and took a long swig.
“How are you going to get yourself out of this one Shelton?” I asked out loud. As if in answer, I heard the sound of a vehicle pulling up outside. Throwing open the front door I stood and watched as Cam climbed down from the cab of his truck. Another vehicle pulled in behind him and Tyler climbed out.
“You got more of them?” Tyler called, indicating my beer.
“Nope. I got nothing.” I shrugged.
“Good thing I brought these then.” With a grin Tyler heaved a cartoon of beer to his shoulder and a grocery bag in the other. “Out of the way girl. Cam, grab the rest, will you?”
I watched, surprised, as my brothers carried groceries – and beer- into the house. I’d been about to follow them in when another vehicle rolled up. Paige and Cody climbed out, both of them carrying bags.
“What’s going on?”
“We’re here to help.” Paige winked as she pushed past.
“Come on, we’ll explain inside.” Cody bounced up and slung an arm around my shoulder, guiding me into the kitchen. I wasn’t quick enough to catch the keys Tyler threw at me. They hit my chest and bounced to the floor.
“Ty!” Paige reprimanded him, “no throwing in Grandma’s house.” She bent and picked up the keys, holding them out to me.
“What’s this? What’s going on?” I looked around the room at my cousins suspiciously.
“These,” Paige jiggled the car keys, “are for you. They are the keys to the spare truck from Cams garage. So you have a set of wheels to get you around. And these-” she nodded at the three large garbage bags sitting on the dining table, “are clothes. I raided my wardrobe and Katie had some stuff she left behind.”
“Guys! You didn’t have to do this.”
“Pft,” Cody squeezed my shoulder, “look I know yesterday blindsided you, Grandma leaving you the house and all the conditions attached to it. And the less than welcoming reception you got from some. But we want you to know from us first hand that we want you to stay. And it’s not just about the house. We’re family. Grandma was right, one hundred percent, the olds should have had your back. They didn’t and while we can’t right that particular wrong, we can be here for you now and, well,” he shuffled from foot to foot, “we just want you to know that.”
“Fuck.” I muttered, eyes welling, emotion clogging my throat.
“We also know you’re not used to this-” Cam waived his arm, indicating them all, “and it’s probably as overwhelming as hell, so let’s go fire up the grill and cook some steaks. You did get steaks didn’t you Ty?”
My two brothers immediately started bickering and rough housing, easing the tension.
“Mom told me she gave you money for a bus ticket.” Travis had arrived and was helping carry the bags of clothing upstairs to my room while the others gathered in the kitchen to prepare dinner.
“I’ll give it back.” I replied immediately.
“Don’t be stupid. It’s yours. Do what you want with it. I just wanted to apologize. It was a shitty thing for her to do, and I’m sorry.”
“No need.” I shrugged.
“There’s every need Rae. You deserve better.” He wrapped me in a hug and I swallowed back the tears again. I hadn’t been expecting this, this love and support from my family. They were getting under my guard and making me feel again. I wasn’t sure I liked it. For the more you cared, the more it hurt when it was taken away.
Dinner was loud, funny, and delicious and a brilliant distraction after the events of the day. After I’d walked back to Grandma’s house I’d taken a dip in the pond a few hundred meters from the back of the house. I’d splashed around for a bit and then floated and now sported a sunburn for my trouble. But I’d felt better and that was the most important thing. My anger had been so strong I’d feared I’d start a wild fire – dowsing off in the pond had seemed the logical thing to do.
“So, what’s the plan?” Paige asked after we’d finished eating and had cleared away the dishes.
“Find a job.” I shrugged. Sounded easy. I knew it wouldn’t be. My reputation preceded me. Who’d hire the mentally unstable Rae Shelton?
“You’re a bartender in Fairbanks, right?” Cody asked. I nodded. “Plenty of pubs in Maxxan, you should pick something up.”
“Depends if they know me or not. I have a reputation here. Not a good one.”
“It’s illegal to discriminate.” Paige argued.
“Yeah but I have a criminal record.” I pointed out.
“You didn’t go to jail though. Doesn’t that count for something?”
“I went to an asylum for the mentally deranged. Which one sounds better?”
The silence that fell was unnerving, even to me. Who could ever forget I’d been locked away, labelled criminally insane? Not only for my rebellious actions but because of my talk of vampires, for I refused to change my story of how Grandpa died. Vampires killed him. No-one believed me. Ever.
“I’m sorry that happened to you.” Paige whispered.
“Me too.” I shrugged off their pity. I didn’t need it. It didn’t change anything. I’d done the things I’d been accused of doing. I’d accepted my punishment as my due. I didn’t want to revisit the past, of the three long years I’d spent locked away for my crimes, of the things that had happened to me behind those locked doors. It was the stuff of nightmares and the less my family knew, the better.
Chapter Seven
It felt surreal living in Grandma’s house. And claustrophobic even though the house was huge. Everywhere I turned were reminders of her and Grandpa. I’d opened the door to her bedroom and had to close it again – the scent of her in the air had almost crippled me. So, when mom called saying her and my Aunts were coming to s
ort through things and clear out Grandma’s belongings I felt a rare moment of euphoria – I was trapped in this town, for now, but if I could make this house my home, even temporarily, it would give me some reprieve from my own tormented thoughts. I hoped.
Surprisingly my demon had remained relatively docile, despite the couple of bouts of static electricity shooting from my fingertips I hadn’t had any other outbreaks, and for that I was thankful. I also knew it was a matter of time – I’d erupt sooner or later and I shuddered to think what would happen when I did. Last time I’d been a teenager, young, weak. Now I was an adult and I could feel my demon, it was so much stronger in me now, more than it has ever been.
All three women arrived at the same time – I took it as my cue to leave. Grabbing the keys to the truck I stood aside, holding the front door open for the women to enter.
“You’re not staying?” Mom asked, a flash of disappointment crossing her face before she hid it behind a smile.
I shook my head, “Gotta find a job mom. I’m sure you’ve all heard what happened yesterday.”
“We did. I’m sorry.”
“Not your fault, and I don’t need you apologizing for me.” My words came out harsher than I intended and I winced, “look mom, I’ve gotta run. Thanks for taking care of Grandma’s stuff – I couldn’t face it.”
Spinning on my heel I vaulted down the front steps and through the gate to where my truck waited. It was red, faded, a little dented in places, but I didn’t care. It was a set of wheels and that’s all I needed. As I drove off I contemplated the idea of driving back to Alaska, would the truck make it? It was driving fine now but would it hold up to such a long journey?
There were three bars in Maxxan and I pulled up in front of the first one I came too, The Looking Glass. It was modern, with lots of glass and mirrors. I knew I didn’t fit in as soon as I stepped inside in my jeans, boots, and tank. Heads turned in my direction and a hush settled over the few people who were seated at a nearby table. I was about to chastise them for drinking this early in the day when I noticed the coffee cups in front of them. On saucers. This was so not my vibe. Regardless I approached the bar and bit my tongue while the bar tender gave me the once over with a disapproving arched brow.
“Think you’ve wandered into the wrong place.” She sneered, “Stanley’s is that way.” She nodded toward the door I’d just come through.
“Any jobs going?” Ignoring her suggestion, I slid onto a bar stool and planted my elbows on the bar.
“No. And we have a vigorous hiring process.”
“Meaning I wouldn’t pass.”
She shrugged and continued whatever it was she was fussing with behind the counter. Then I caught a glimpse in the mirror behind her. A gun. She’d pulled a pistol from wherever she’d had it hidden and it was now laying on top of a tray of glasses, her hand resting on top of it.
“I assume you know who I am?” I asked, slowly rising, not wanting to spook her and have her blow a hole in me.
“You’re the crazy Shelton girl.”
“Rae. Rae Shelton.” I corrected.
“You went to school with my brother.”
Oh boy. This should be good.
“Oh?” She’d have to remind me because I had no idea who she was, let alone her brother.
“Paul Baldell.” She looked at me expectantly and I looked back, none the wiser. The name didn’t ring a bell, but that wasn’t surprising since my memory had more holes than swiss cheese thanks to the Institute.
“Seriously?” She squeaked, clearly growing agitated, “you don’t remember burying his bike in a load of manure?”
I cocked my head, thinking. A vague recollection of stealing the Sullivan’s tractor and scooping up a bucket load of horse shit. I don’t remember what I did with it but it sounded feasible that I’d empty it all over someone’s bike.
“Are we talking bicycle or motorbike?” I asked.
“Motorbike!” She practically shouted. Time to go. Her fingers had wrapped around the handle of the gun and I knew now was not the time to tell her I had zero recollection of that event – clearly, she did, it had made an impact on her brother too I assumed. I made a mental note to try and find out what her brother looked like so I could avoid him. It was not going to be easy being back in Maxxan.
“Pass on my apologies to your brother.” I tossed the words over my shoulder as I headed towards the door. She wouldn’t shoot me in the back. I hoped. Shit she probably wouldn’t shoot me at all, too scared of getting her prissy ass thrown in jail, but you never know, people do unexpected things under pressure.
My morning followed the same pattern. People recognized me on the street and either crossed the road to avoid me, or hurled insults at me. The second bar had no vacancies but told me I could leave my details and they’d get in touch. I doubted that they would but I filled out the form anyway and left with a smile that made my face ache.
The third bar was on the outskirts of town, the paint was peeling and the windows were filthy. The parking lot wasn’t paved and I dodged the potholes as my truck bounced to a stop. Welcome to Stanley’s.
Pushing through the doors I breathed in the smell of stale beer and old smoke. This place was ancient and it looked like a strong wind would blow it over, but there were no fancy coffee cups on the tables and no massive coffee machine behind the counter. Just beer taps and bottles of alcohol on the shelves.
“What can I get ya?” A grizzly old man shuffled along the bar, drying a glass he drew level and eyeballed me.
“You here to cause trouble?” He asked, leaning forward and getting in my face. I shook my head, “nope. Looking for a job actually.”
“Is that so?” He leaned back, cocking his head. “Got any experience?”
“Five years in a bar back in Fairbanks.”
“So if I rang and asked about ya, they’d give ya a good rap?”
“Good question,” I muttered. “But yeah, I think so.” I’d called my boss the night before, had explained that I was stuck in Maxxan for the foreseeable future. He hadn’t cared one way or the other which had been a blow to my ego since I’d been working for him for the last five years and managing his bar for the last two.
“You going to be trouble?” The old man asked, rubbing the glass so hard I feared it would shatter beneath his hands.
“Can’t promise anything but it’s not my intention. I’m guessing you know who I am.”
“Girl, you are notorious around these parts. At least you have been recently. Ever since the townsfolk heard you were coming back for the funeral they’ve been all up in arms, fearing the worst.”
“Was I really that bad?”
“Truth be told some of them stories may have been vastly exaggerated.” The old man shrugged, “but I like a girl with spirit. I’ll give ya a shot.”
Holding out his hand he said, “I’m Stan.” Shaking his hand, I smiled, Stan, the proud owner of Stanley’s.
“Thank you. You won’t regret it.” I promised.
He laughed, “I think I will but it will be interesting to see, won’t it? You just might liven this joint up a bit.”
Word must have spread for when I returned for my shift that evening the place was packed. After the fourth person wanting to take a selfie with me I was over it. So was my demon by the feel of things and I felt a twinge of unease. Everyone was gawking at me like I was a goddamn tourist attraction, I even had a young woman ask for my autograph.
Grinding my teeth, I closed my eyes, trying to calm myself. The last thing I needed was to prove all these assholes right – that I was still as crazy as ever.
“When you’ve finished daydreaming Shelton, I’ll have a beer.” The unmistakable voice of Agent Buchanan reached my ears and my eyes sprang open.
“Didn’t think this place was your style Agent.”
“Heard a buzz about town that this was the place to be tonight. Thought I’d check it out.” His grin told me he was enjoying my discomfort.
Pouring
him a beer I placed it in front of him without a word. I had a plan. Get through this shift, don’t lose my shit. Eventually the fuss would die down, people would get tired of waiting for me to explode and I’d become yesterday’s news. Just stay calm, stay under the radar, keep the demon at bay.
And it was going well. It was working. Hours into my shift and the crowd had thinned out. They’d seen what they came to see – me – and found me lacking. I was merely a girl, working behind a bar. So what? No big deal. I ignored the Agent who’d set up camp at the far end of the bar. He’d had two beers and then switched to soda. Not that I was keeping tabs on him.
I was walking around collecting empties and wiping down tables when it happened. A strong male arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me backward into him, thrusting suggestively against my ass and breathing into my ear “how about some sugar?”
My reaction was immediate and reflexive. Grabbing his wrist, I tossed him over my shoulder and slammed him into the ground. His breath wheezed out as his lungs contracted from the impact. I didn’t help his breathing any by straddling him and beating the ever-living shit out of him. My demon was roaring inside, happy with the violence and wanting more, more blood, more pain.
I was wrenched off of the now unconscious man, kicking and yelling. Someone had a death grip around my waist and was dragging me outside while I writhed and twisted in his grip, throwing my head back to try and headbutt him, kicking my legs, anything to inflict pain.
“Calm down!” Slamming me against the side of the bar rough hands gripped my shoulders and the dark eyes of SIA Agent Jordan Buchanan bore into mine. I continued to struggle and didn’t still until his fingers wrapped around my throat and he squeezed. Not enough to kill, but enough to cut off my airway and get my attention.
