by J. E. Taylor
“Daddy!” The scream tore through the room making everyone jump a mile. Tommy’s wide blue eyes stared up at his father hanging from the cross. They had been in enough Sunday school classes for him to have an inkling of what was wrong.
Chris focused on his youngest child. “Daddy is going to be just fine.” He smiled, lying to his son.
“Daddy, Jesus died like that,” Tommy said, his chin quivering and tears brimmed, sliding down his cheeks.
“Don’t cry,” Chris said and pushed with his feet, allowing his voice to come out without being laced by the pain racking his body. He smiled again. “See, it isn’t so bad.”
Tommy turned his head in Eric’s direction.
“Tommy,” Chris called, pulling his attention back. He didn’t want Tommy to see Emily.
Jessica let out a shaky sob. “Tommy, baby,” she said softly getting her son’s attention.
Sharon suddenly understood what they were doing and walked behind Tommy. She unhooked him and yanked him up by his hair, making him cry out. She pulled the knife out of her pocket and put it to his throat.
Fear laced his mouth with a tinny taste and Chris clamped his jaw together, glaring a warning in her direction. The bitch just smiled back.
Sharon dragged him in front of Emily, holding a handful of hair and directing his gaze toward Emily. “You won’t be as lucky as your sister.”
“Mommy!” Tommy cried, sobbing and squirming in her grip.
Chris couldn’t see his face, but the fear in his voice shot straight to his heart. He was going to kill her, even if he had to come back from the dead to do it. Before he could voice his vow, Tom growled words that struck ice in his veins.
Tom strained against the chains. “He’s mine, all right! He is my son and I swear to God, I will kill you if you hurt him.”
Chris closed his eyes again and sent the scream out for CJ; he opened his eyes settling his gaze on Eric. Eric’s left hand spread wide and his forehead broke out in sweat. His face a mask of concentration and Chris swallowed, his eyes snapped to Sharon and the knife against his son’s throat. His gaze flitted back and forth between Eric’s now-bleeding hand.
Chris shot a look at Jessica. “Jessie,” he whispered and she looked over at him. Unchain Tom. He said in his mind. I left some in you. Unchain him!
Jessica’s eyes went wide as she caught his thought. She closed her eyes and concentrated.
“I thought you were sterile.” Sharon tilted her head.
“I got myself fixed. There was no way in hell I was bringing a child into this world with you.”
Sharon gasped. “You son of a bitch,” she said and sliced what she thought was Tommy’s throat.
Eric cried out as the blade tore through his hand.
Chris blinked the edges of darkness away and tried to push himself up with his feet. Pain traveled up his legs, flaring almost enough to make him pass out again. His wrists ground from his weight every time he lost the strength in his legs, sending excruciating pain through his shoulders. His eyes finally focused on the room again. He needed to wake his son, inhaling deeply, and pushing himself up again despite the pain, he let out a blood curdling cry, causing everyone in the room except Jessica to turn their attention on him. “Christopher James!” he screamed aloud and in his head. He looked down in time to see his son’s eyes flutter open and then all went black.
* * * *
Jessica felt the power jump out of her at the same moment Tom lunged. His eyes widened when the chains didn’t stop him. He reached her, yanking Tommy from her grip and pushing him to safety.
The sixth bullet tore through Tom’s side, but that didn’t slow him down. Fury filled his features, turning his ruggedly handsome face into a ferocious growling mask. “You tried to kill my son.” He flung her across the room.
Jessica tore her gaze from his predatory advance and looked up at Chris. He hung limply from the cross, his head hanging and blood dripping from the wood, pooling on the floor below. Thin red tendrils rolled down his arms, and sides, the wounds in his wrists leaking small droplets every few seconds. She glanced down at the pool, her heart hammering in her chest, drowning the sound of her hitching breath. How much blood has he lost? Her eyes snapped back up at him, searching, praying, but not finding any motion in his chest, no rise and fall, no groans of pain, just silence and fear choked his name from her throat.
“Mommy?” CJ said and her head snapped in his direction. He broke eye contact and looked up, his eyes going wide at the sight of his father nailed to a cross.
“Let me out CJ and get your father down.”
The chains fell from her wrists and ankles just as Tom caught a handful of Sharon’s hair and pitched her into the wall. The nails creaked and shot out from the wood, releasing Chris and she watched him fall, time flashing like a shutter, his descent a progression of snap shots and broken, battered body bounced in the puddle of blood and then was still.
She was across the room before his name finished barreling from her lips and both Eric and CJ stood at her side.
* * * *
Tommy’s eyes widened at the sight of his father falling through the air and splitting into two people. One lay on the floor where his mother and brothers gathered and the other, the other scared the shit out of him.
He glowed and had a scar on his face, but his eyes, his eyes belonged to the man who raised him, who loved him and tucked him in every night, promising to keep him safe from harm. The ghost’s gaze met his and he nodded before turning his sights on the scary woman.
Tommy swiveled his gaze between the ghost and his father’s body, his mother crying over his still form, kissing his forehead, his chest—anything to bring him back to life—and something inside clicked. He bolted toward the ghost, grabbing its wrist and dragging the spirit back to his father’s body where he slammed it down, watching as it fused with his father’s skin. “Mommy hurry, I can’t hold it in much longer.”
She leaned over, kissing Chris and pushing all her power into his body. Light danced across his skin and he gasped under her lips. Tears ran in a steady stream down her face and she glanced at Tommy.
He smiled back at her as Chris’s eyes fluttered open.
* * * *
Chris’s eyes blinked open and he glanced at his wrists before looking up at his family. “Thank you, babe,” he said, and then his gaze went to his two boys. He looked at Tommy and reached up, touching his cheek, blinking back the tears. He knew the boy saved his life by pushing his spirit back into his body. “Thank you, Tommy,” he whispered.
Tommy nodded.
He turned his gaze to CJ and sat up. CJ threw his arms around his father’s neck and kissed his cheek, sending a fraction of his power into his father. “Now you have what you need.”
Chris reeled from the sheer strength of the power coursing through his veins. “Did you give me all of it?”
“No, just a tiny bit,” CJ said.
If this raging flow of energy was just a tiny bit of his son’s power, Chris wondered how the child contained it within his little frame. It ran rampant in his blood, his muscles, fusing, morphing, growing.
Chris stood on shaking legs and met Jessica’s gaze. Our boy could change the trajectory of the sun and moon if he wanted to. He looked back at his son. “CJ, keep them safe,” he said and stalked toward the mêlée in the center of the room.
Tom lumbered after Sharon and stumbled, weakened by blood loss. Sharon kicked him square in the groin and he dropped to his knees.
“She’s mine,” Chris growled passing by Tom, trying to catch her before she reached the table of weapons.
She beat him to the table, grabbing something and spinning in his direction.
The distinct hissing sound of an aerosol can hit his ears at the same time the spray covered his eyes. Burning pain gripped him and he staggered back a few steps with his hands out in front of him, blocking some of the spray but the damage was done, the acid-laced mace gouged his eyes. He didn’t scream but reeled into the center of th
e room catching his breath.
Sharon kicked Tom in the face on her way by, knocking him out. “You will never see her again,” she said to Chris.
But I will still hear her. He shifted into karate form with his head held low. “Game on,” he growled.
She’s behind you, Jessica’s blessed voice echoed in his mind and he turned toward Sharon. “You really didn’t believe me when I said I could bring him back, did you?” He looked in the direction of where he thought she was standing, the skin around his eyes still sizzling from the chemicals.
“No, I didn’t,” she replied to his question.
He laughed and turned in her direction. “Just for the record, my name is Ty Alexander Ryan,” he said and although he couldn’t see a thing, he accurately homed in on her, looking at the spot where she stood. “And I am going to make you wish you were never born.”
Rustling fabric behind him caught his attention and Chris tilted his head. “Looks like Tom’s with us again.” Tom’s gasp masked her movement but he caught a wisp of fabric to his right and focused back on her. Hush, I need to hear her.
“I can still kill them,” Sharon said.
Chris slowly turned in the direction of her voice. It was closer than before.
“I dare you to try.” A second later, an electrical buzz snapped and a distinct ozone odor filled the room. He pointed in CJ’s direction. “Keep that in check, CJ. This isn’t your fight. Your job is to keep your mother, Tommy and Eric safe, understand?”
“Yes, Daddy,” CJ answered.
“Jess, get them out of here,” he said and focused back on Sharon.
You have it back, he heard Jessica say in his head and he nodded. He felt her power. “Go. Now. And take Tom with you.”
Eric crossed the room to Tom. “You just unleashed hell,” he said to Sharon and picked Tom up, shuffling back to the family and out the door.
Chris chuckled. CJ would see to it that they got out of the building intact, vaporizing anything in his way. The door slammed as Chris willed it. He was giddy with the power flowing in his veins. Christopher said he would lose his power, he never bet that Jessica and CJ would give him theirs. “Now, let’s see...What should I do with you?” Chris contemplated, tapping his index finger on his lips and turning in her direction; she had circled around behind him again. He heard the click of an automatic weapon above him. “Dive,” Chris said and sent out the command. The shooter obediently dove from the rafters two stories above, landing head first on the concrete floor a few feet behind Sharon. The wet thud of a skull cracking open spread a smile over his lips.
“What the hell are you?” Sharon gasped, backing away from the dead man she hired.
“I’m your worst fucking nightmare.” Chris smiled. He heard the clip fall from the gun she held and another slip in. “Not happening. Toss me the gun.” He put his hand out and she tossed the gun in the air to him and it landed in his hand. “I bet the look on your face is absolutely priceless.”
“Why won’t you just die?” she whispered.
“I’m not in a hurry to go to hell. Although right now I’m sure the devil is having a royal fit and my brother is laughing so hard he’s rolling on the ground with tears coming from his eyes.”
She lunged toward him with the knife and Chris spun, grabbing the wrist that held the weapon and spinning around so his elbow connected with her face. He tossed her away and faced the direction where he had thrown her.
“Did you know I’m a third-degree black belt?”
“You son of a bitch, you broke my nose.”
“I guess Jessie and I have another thing in common now.”
Sharon lunged at him again with a roar, announcing her whereabouts.
Chris blocked her arm as she swung the knife and thrust the heel of his hand into her chest, sending her sprawling back on the ground. “You know, I don’t really like the fact that you hung me on a cross today,” he commented, hearing her get to her feet. “Or that you shot my wife three times.” He lowered his head, listening. He heard her breathing hard and smiled as she ran at him again.
This time he felt the knife graze his skin, drawing blood. He grabbed her arm and twisted it, snapping it like a twig. The knife went flying and Sharon screamed. He let go and stepped back into the center of the room.
Sharon stumbled to the table and grabbed another weapon. The whir of the barbs clued him in and he ducked, spinning out of the way. He guessed she had donned the same torture mechanism she used to rip his back to shreds. The same sound he heard before the whip cracked his back whizzed inches from his face.
Chris heard her lumbering gait coming for him again and he jumped in the air, doing a powerful roundhouse kick that caught the side of her head as the barbs hit his leg, tearing the fabric of his pants and the skin beneath.
Sharon went flying and hit one of the chairs, toppling over with it.
Chris stood in the center of the room, his eyes closed, concentrating and gritting his teeth against the familiar pain. The chemical burns around his eyes faded and the cut on the inside of his thigh disappeared. When he opened his eyes, the chemical burns on his corneas were gone, leaving the perfect blue they had always been, the only difference-being he still couldn’t see a thing. Chris looked in her direction, not seeing her, but giving the illusion he was.
“What are you?” she asked again, witnessing the transformation.
“Would you believe the Angel of Death resurrected?”
“I’d believe just about anything right now,” Sharon said, slowly getting up.
“You killed Emily,” he growled looking straight at the spot where she stood, which happened to be right next to his stepdaughter’s dead body.
“Tom needed to learn his lesson.”
“And that meant destroying my family?” he asked, tilting his head, homing in on her exact location.
“He loves your wife.”
“So what? You’ve been blackmailing him for the last five years.”
“I wanted him.”
The whisper of fabric and scuff of shoes told him she moved but he didn’t know in what direction. But her thoughts, her thoughts were murderous.
“I don’t need to see you with my eyes. I can see you with my mind and if you think you can tag me with that thing again, go for it.” He shifted into ready pose with a smile.
She took the bait and lunged, swinging it at his head.
Chris ducked. The barbs whistled by his face and he lunged forward, sending a powerful punch into her solar plexus, using the power of his crouch to his advantage. He felt something snap under the pressure of his fist and a spike grazed his arm as she flew backwards screaming in pain.
Hinges creaked and Chris turned toward the door listening for movement and turning his attention away from her to scan the mind of the intruder.
* * * *
Tom surveyed the room, his eyes landing on Sharon and the hatred flared. He wanted to squeeze the life out of her. He wanted her to feel the same kind of pain and fear she reigned on Chris, on Jessica and on his son. He wanted her dead.
“Get out, Tom,” Chris replied pointing at the door. “Killing her will destroy you.”
“And it won’t destroy you?”
“No, it won’t.” Movement caught his attention and he whipped his head in her direction. “Park your ass,” he commanded. She sat back down on the floor obediently.
Tom’s jaw dropped. “I thought you didn’t have your powers.”
“I didn’t. Left that at the gates of hell,” Chris said and looked back in the general direction of Tom. “Along with my soul and apparently my eyesight.” He smiled. “But the devil never guessed Jessie had some of that power left inside her or that she would give it back to me. And he sure as shit didn’t bet on CJ.” Shuffling sounds interrupted him and he swung his head in Sharon’s direction. “Sit,” he said and she promptly sat back on the ground. “Your son has a touch of it too.” He smiled back in Tom’s direction. “Hell of a thing to be shoved back into you
r own body. If it weren’t for Tommy, I’d be down under getting my ass whomped by Frank right now.”
Tom shivered at the mention of Frank’s name.
Chris’s smile faded. “Too bad Tommy wasn’t awake when Emily was shot. I wasn’t able to save her after all.” He looked toward Sharon and his jaw tightened.
With his first step in her direction the transition completed and he became the Ty Tom remembered near the end, soul-less, cold, and frightening.
“Beg.” The growl rolled off his tongue and he reached his hand out, squeezing the air as if he had his hand around her neck.
With one hand, Sharon clawed the invisible grip around her throat, stumbling to her feet. In the other, she gripped the handle, looping the spikes in a small arc. “Please,” her restricted voice whimpered.
Careful, she’s up and moving to your right side.
Chris squared his shoulders in the direction Tom indicated. “Please what?” He tilted his head, lowering his arms.
“Die,” she screamed and swung the barbs at his face.
Chris moved at inhuman speed, grabbing the strands of the whip, yanking it from her hand and careening it across the room. His hand, bleeding from the barbs, curled into a fist and slammed into the middle of her face, sending broken bones sprawling into her brain, killing her instantly and she flew across the room landing on her back, staring blindly at the rafters.
Chris waited a moment. “I think that about does it,” he said and turned back toward Tom, shaking his hand, sending blood across the floor. “Damn that hurts,” he said and closed his eyes.
Tom watched as the cuts on his hand and wrist disappeared. “I will never get used to that,” he said.
“Are they all gone?”
“Is what gone?”
“The burns around my eyes?”
“Yeah.”
“You still bleeding?”
“Yeah.”
“Come here,” Chris replied. Tom went to him and Chris put his hand on Tom’s arm. “Show me where.”
Tom took his hand and put it next to the bullet hole.
Chris smiled awkwardly. “This doesn’t mean I like you, okay?”
Tom laughed and the minute Chris’s lips touched the skin above his hand, hot pain flared and he sucked in his breath. “That hurts like a bitch,” he said and stepped back.
