Jordan leaned to the side as far as she could go. The monster missed her throat, but was still able to sink its teeth into the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder. Blood spurted and she cried out as it came away with part of her in its mouth. She instantly felt lightheaded and realized the monster had nicked her exterior jugular vein. She was bleeding out. Jordan didn’t have to worry about being eaten alive. She’d be dead before it could take another bite.
Chapter Nineteen
Faced with Corbett and the photograph, Wendy accepted and rejected a hundred excuses as to how Jordan got it. Her face hurt and she was afraid to think of what Corbett would do to her if she confessed to helping Jordan. In all the years she’d been bullied, she’d been lucky enough to avoid physical confrontations. She’d never been struck in her life…until now.
Corbett squeezed her face harder. “I want an answer, you fat cow! Did. You. Help. That. Bitch?”
Tears of pain ran from her eyes, blurring her vision. Wendy tried to pull away but his hands were like steel traps. She cursed herself for being so weak. Dammit, why was she so afraid? Corbett was just a boy, no older than she. What could he do, really? Sure, he was bigger. He could stomp a mud hole in her if he wanted, reduce her to a crimson stain on the floor, but so what? Being bullied and treated like dirt left imprints that never went away – she knew. In that moment, she realized she didn’t want to be a victim anymore.
She looked into his eyes. They were filled with hate, but Wendy remembered a time not too long ago when he was shy and uncertain and his eyes were a soft brown. He was built like a Mack truck now, but he used to be short, gangly, and was easily stuffed into lockers and trashcans at school. Somewhere inside, the old Corbett was hiding. Maybe she could reach him. “Corbett, get off me,” she said calmly. “If you want me to talk, then give me some space.” Wendy shoved against him as hard as she could. He actually stumbled a little. At least he let her go. She placed her cold hand on her pounding face and wished for an ice bag and three bottles of pain pills. “Yes. I helped Jordan.”
Corbett’s face turned as red. He drew his fist back. Her eye exploded in a patchwork of blackness, stars, and agony. When she hit the floor this time, she knew she wouldn’t be getting back up anytime soon. She would not cry.
“How could you?” he screamed, picking up knick-knacks from her desk and throwing them against the wall, where they shattered into pieces and rained down on her head. “You should have kept your nose out of my fucking business!”
He crossed to the wall where her pictures hung. Wendy watched out of her one good eye as he used both hands to sweep them to the floor before stomping on them. This infuriated her more than being treated like a punching bag. Those pictures represented who she was. Behind each one was a story. To see them treated in such a way was unacceptable.
“Corbett, listen to me. You are killing innocent people! It has to stop!”
He rounded on her, nostrils flaring, chest heaving with exertion. “I have every right to punish those who walk all over me and treat me like dirt beneath their feet! Unlike you, I got sick of being a doormat! I decided to stand up for myself.” He wiped his lips on the back of his hand. “Those people weren’t innocent. They laughed at me, turned me away, or never gave me a chance. And you…you went behind my back, destroyed my property, and betrayed my trust. And now, you owe me.”
Wendy managed to sit up. She had to; something was digging into her leg, adding to her discomfort. She leaned against the wall, scanning the floor for whatever item she’d been lying on. She saw nothing. She looked at her bare leg hanging out from the robe and saw an impression on her skin. Immediately, she knew what it was – the barrel of a pistol. She had forgotten about the gun in her pocket, but now, the dangerous piece of black metal jumped to the forefront of her mind. She flipped her robe so that it covered her leg; Corbett would think nothing of that – he knew she was shy when it came to her body. She’d never even worn a swimsuit in public. She wanted to look down and make sure the gun was concealed, but was afraid he would notice.
“Wendy, where is Jordan?”
His question caught her off guard. She couldn’t tell him where her friend was. If she wasn’t already dead (Please, Jesus, no!) telling Corbett about the mine would be signing Jordan’s death sentence.
“I – I don’t know.”
“You’re lying.” Corbett shrugged, kicking a picture across the room. “You may have burned my shed down, but I’m not helpless…and I’m getting bored with this conversation.”
He walked over to her desk and picked something up. Wendy’s heart stopped for a few seconds when she realized what it was – her mother’s hairbrush. Corbett must have stolen it from her bedroom before Wendy got out of the shower.
He pulled a strand of hair loose from the bristles, holding it in front of her. “Now, let’s try this again. You tell me where Jordan is or I use your mother’s hair to work a spell that will burn her body from the inside out.”
Wendy couldn’t believe how indifferent he was. He talked about killing her mother as casually as one would discuss the weather. She was wrong. The shy boy she used to know was long gone. An evil shell was all that remained.
“Wendy, this is your last chance. Tell me where I can find Jordan or your mother dies a very painful death.”
She shook her head, begging, “Corbett, don’t do this. You know my mother. You know what a loving person she is. This earth is a better place with her in it. Please, don’t take her life away.”
She knew when he smiled that her words fell on deaf ears. There was no getting through to him. “Oh, Wendy,” he chuckled, tossing the brush back on her desk. “I’m not killing your mother. You are.”
He raised the strand of her mother’s silky black hair before him. “Spirits of the night, I call. Hear me now, one and all!”
“Corbett, stop! Please!” Wendy grasped the gun. With her hand still in her pocket, she flicked the safety off. Slowly, she struggled to stand. Corbett paid her no attention. He had both hands in the air, eyes raised to the ceiling.
“Bones of ash, bones of dust, full of anger, death is just!”
She had to stop him. Wendy pulled the gun from her robe. Her hand shook so badly she almost dropped it. Oh God, she didn’t want to kill him!
“Take the breath from which to speak, seal the eyes no more to seek. Still the heart its fervent beat; the angel of death she now shall meet!”
Her mother’s hair burst into green flames – green! But, they didn’t seem to burn his hand. Wendy’s anxiety level reached epic proportions. She had a feeling the spell was almost finished. It was now or never.
Taking a deep breath, she held the gun the way Jordan taught her. She concentrated, trying to recall her friend’s words.
Make sure the safety is off. Use two hands – one holding the gun, the other gripping your wrist to steady the gun. Aim for center mass. Control your breathing. Squeeze the trigger, don’t pull…
Wendy raised her voice to be heard, trying to channel her inner Sarah Conner. She sounded more like Amanda Seyfried in that Red Riding Hood movie – cry, billow, reapply lip gloss and repeat. “Corbett, shut your damn pie hole or I swear on all that’s holy I’ll blow another one in your forehead!”
He stopped his incantation and stared at the gun as if he’d never seen one. More than likely, he was surprised to see one in her hands. Shaking though it was, having a gun pointed at your head was always formidable. Seeing his unease gave her confidence – a tiny boost of power. Her hands stopped shaking. She pictured Jordan: brave, loyal, caring, defender of mankind, patron Saint of Whoop-Ass. Wendy sent up a silent prayer.
“I want you to shut your trap. I want you out of my house, and I want you to stop this Harry Potter crap! So, you don’t get what you want all the time – no one does! You were snubbed by a girl and bullied by a bunch of school kids – big deal! You aren’t the only one, Corbett! Things like this happen to poor saps like us every day, but you don’t see the rest of us
summoning monsters, kidnapping people, or reading from spell books! Grow up, dammit! If you want to stand up for yourself, conjure a pair of balls. They’ll get you a lot further.”
She took a breath, and then another. Wendy wondered if anything she said penetrated his thick skull. His mouth hung open. She averted her eyes from his tobacco-stained teeth. There was a dazed look in his eyes, as if he were in a trance. She began to worry. If he started to drool, she would slap him or something.
His mouth pulled up into an eerie grin. The fact that it didn’t reach the rest of his face made it look more like a rictus of pain. Corbett closed his eyes. For those few moments, Wendy was grateful. The slack-jawed zombie act frightened her more than the violence.
“Corbett, did you digest anything I said?”
At the sound of her voice, he opened his eyes. They were solid black orbs. “Oh, I digested a lot more than that, bitch.”
Wendy gasped. Corbett rolled his neck from side to side and it popped like a bag of Orville Redenbacher’s finest. He stretched his arms wide, inhaling deeply. When he grinned at her, he had fangs – long, sharp ones. Corbett wasn’t the only one occupying his body. It seemed the demon had decided to try him on for size.
The experience only lasted a few seconds, but it would stay rooted in her memory forever.
“Why should I listen to you, Wendy, when I have a demon on my shoulder?” His laugh was maniacal in the otherwise quiet house. He raised his hands again and continued with his spell to kill her mother.
“Gates of Hell, open for me. Accept the gift I offer thee!”
He turned back to Wendy, who was crying – crying for what she had to do; crying because there was no other way.
“Kiss your mother goodbye.” He opened his hand and blew what was left of the hair into the air. “Ashes to ashes, dust to dust.”
Wendy raised the gun and pulled the trigger.
Chapter Twenty
Dizzy. Jordan wanted to close her eyes and sleep. It would be so easy. She could escape all the darkness, all the pain and heartache, and move on to…somewhere else. Would she go to Hell? Did it matter? She couldn’t imagine, at that moment, that it could be much worse than what she was going through.
Nathan and her uncle were lying in tattered heaps on the cold, stone floor, no longer able to sit up. Were they dead from internal injuries or blood loss? She didn’t know. Her other brother, the one she had only recently reconciled with, was surrounded by demons, looking up at her as the Kongamato held her in a mockery of a lover’s embrace on a ledge none of them could reach – not even the demons. There was no room for any of them to teleport up.
The monster – Jordan could barely focus on it now – inhaled her scent, perhaps checking the level of her fear. Well, she hated to disappoint, but she was not afraid. She always knew death came early for members of the Circle. She was not bothered about dying. It would be a sweet release in many ways. Her only regret was not being able to save her family before she did. Damn the angels! They should be here, shooting lasers from their eyes and striking down the wicked. Wasn’t it their job to protect the innocent? No. Unfortunately, that’s what they had the Circle for. It wouldn’t be so bad if they had powers that equaled those of their enemies. Sometimes silver knives, salt, and holy water just weren’t enough.
Her heart rate was slowing. Jordan could feel it desperately trying to push what little blood she had left to her brain and internal organs. There wasn’t enough. Darts whizzed past her head. Several were sticking out of the Kongamato at odd angles, but none could reach its heart. It was using her as a shield.
It almost dropped her as the silver spread like poison through its body, but the monster was obviously no stranger to self-preservation. It knew that she was the only thing keeping it alive and the creature doubled its efforts to hang on to her.
It let loose a horrible scream. Fetid breath washed over her like death, but Jordan no longer had the strength to make a face, much less gag. It wavered on its feet for a moment as another dart buried itself in its arm. She could hear screaming from the floor. Her brother’s voice was the loudest. She wanted to call to him, to tell him she was okay with dying and to please save himself. Quinn would never do that, though. He would fight until he no longer could. “I love you,” she whispered.
The Kongamato screamed again before pulling her up to its face. Jordan’s head flopped back, exposing her throat. She couldn’t fight back. All her strength was gone. It opened its incredibly wide mouth, preparing to deliver the fatal bite. “Go ahead, you bastard,” she murmured. Teeth winked in the faded light. Saliva dripped on her neck, warm at first, but quickly turning cold. The monster lunged.
In the next moment, Jordan found herself falling. Down…down…she felt like she was floating. Even though it only took seconds for her body to crash to the hard surface of the floor, it seemed to take forever. When she hit, there was an exquisite burst of pain and then…nothing. The room faded to black as her heart finally gave up.
In and out, in and out. Breath rushed in, filling her lungs. She held it in as long as possible, relishing one of the oldest life function – the very first one we learn when we emerge from the womb.
She felt safe, comfortable. Her head rested on something soft, yet unfamiliar. Warm hands rubbed her arms and caressed her face as people talked softly to her. Jordan was afraid to open her eyes. She had no idea where she was or who these people were. All she knew was that she was no longer in pain -- and that was enough for now.
“Jordan, can you hear me?”
That sounded like Nathan. But it couldn’t be – her brother was dead.
“Jordan, we love you, honey. Wake up now.”
Uncle Case. She’d recognize that voice anywhere. This was more proof that she was, in fact, dead. Maybe they all ended up in the same place after their last breaths. Heaven? If her family was with her, then it was close enough.
“Jordy, open your eyes. It’s okay – we’re all okay.”
Okay, that was wrong. Quinn never called her Jordy. That was Nathan’s pet name for her. Quinn shouldn’t be here. He was fine the last she remembered. At least, he’d been standing under his own steam. Did the demons kill him? What about the Kongamato? Maybe he decided Quinn would make a better meal.
Her curiosity got the better of her. She had to know where she was and what was going on. Slowly, Jordan opened her eyes. Nathan and Case’s faces, unscratched and unbloodied, loomed above her. They were miraculously whole and perfect.
“Thank God,” Case said. “She’s awake!”
Quinn’s face popped into view from overhead. He was upside down. That was when she realized he was actually behind her, cradling her head in his lap.
“How do you feel? Can you sit up?”
She nodded. “I think so.”
With Case and Nathan’s help, she managed to get up and scoot until her back rested against the wall. She felt weak and shaky, but otherwise okay. Her mouth was dry; she motioned for the water bottle Nathan held. She fumbled the plastic top off and poured some into her mouth, dribbling a fair amount down her shirt, which was clean. She contemplated that for a second, but the water tasted too good to give it a second thought just then.
When she had enough, she gave the bottle back to Nathan and looked around. They were still in the mine. All of them were healed and their clothes and bodies were clean. Her torn jeans were mended and looked brand new. She peeked down the front of her now-wet shirt and saw the deep cut from Corbett’s knife was gone. She felt the back of her head for the huge bump she sustained when he hit her – gone. She then remembered that Ivy had healed her before the monster threw her into a wall, but what about the bite? Her hand travelled down to the space between her neck and shoulder. Instead of the mangled, ripped skin she expected to find where the Kongamato bit her, she found it smooth, unmarred. Somehow, they had all been healed.
“What happened?” she asked. “Where’s the Kongamato?”
“Dead,” Quinn replied. He looke
d up and Jordan’s eyes followed. Across the room, high up on the ledge, she could see the body of the monster hanging over the side.
“How?” Jordan remembered the darts, which were still sticking out of its body, not being able to reach its heart because she’d been in the way. There was no way they could have killed it.
“We don’t know.” Quinn crossed his legs, Indian-style. He was sitting directly in front of her and placed a hand on her knee. “One second, it was about to bite your throat and drink you down like a juice box. The next, it just…crumpled in on itself and fell over.”
“It dropped me,” she remembered.
Quinn blanched. His face turned as white as Michael’s robes. “Yes. The fall broke your back and crushed your skull. You died, Jordan.”
She shook her head. “If I died, then…are all of you dead, too?” She motioned to the mine. “I expected the after-life to look a little better than this.”
Nathan laughed. His voice sounded so sweet, so full of life. She couldn’t help but reach out and touch his cheek. He placed his hand over hers. “We’re not dead, Jordy. The demon healed us.”
Aamon. She’d forgotten about him and his band of repugnant sycophants. That bastard hurt her brother. He stood by and watched while she and Ivy took on the Kongamatos. He tried to blackmail her into leaving her family for him. He was a boil on the ass of all living things and needed to be excised – permanently.
Like a ghost, the demon materialized out of thin air. Ivy stood at his side. He straightened the silk hankie peeking out of the top of the pocket of his meticulous suit. This was the first opportunity she had to really study him. Aamon looked to be in his early fifties. His black hair was peppered with gray. He had a handsome face with a straight, Roman nose and intense blue eyes. He looked distinguished in a bank-president way. Jordan wondered if the man he was riding had ever been in Forbes magazine.
Blind Sight Page 19
