Mira's high-pitched scream came out of nowhere, and the sound of it made the man I loved go back into hiding. Now, with Atticus in full control, there was wrath, not love in his gaze, and it hurt more than I wanted to admit.
Numb with disappointment that my window of opportunity had closed with a resounding crack, I made my way back to Nanny Flo's house with Mira close on my heels. Every time I faltered, she took great pleasure in poking me hard in the ribs with a manicured nail.
"He's not yours, you stupid bitch," Mira said, with a quick punch between my shoulder blades, and the power of it made me bite down hard on my tongue. The taste of metal exploded in my mouth, and my spine felt as if she had shattered it, but rather than cower, I whirled to face her, and before she could block it, I delivered an uppercut to her jaw. She went down like a rock, utter shock in her expression.
"I've wanted to do that since you almost got me killed seven years ago," I said, with a wide grin.
The few self-defense classes, that I had managed to attend over the years, had finally come in handy. I turned in the opposite direction of the house, sprinting into the forest that was growing darker by the moment. I didn't actually think I could escape, and though it was childish, I relished the concept that with me on the loose, Mira and Nanny Flo might sweat a little.
I ran, then walked for a few more minutes, but I was rapidly losing daylight and with it, any chance of finding my way back to the house, so I grudgingly turned back.
The moon was full and gave just enough light that I could gauge where I was. The slightest tang of burning wood drifted in the air, and I almost laughed, because as they had expected, there would be a blood moon tomorrow. Whether they had started it or it had happened by chance, a fire was burning somewhere and with it, came the smoke that would turn the moon crimson.
I spotted the outdoor lights, bright in the gloom.
"Good to see you've graced us with your presence," Atticus said.
I hadn't noticed that he had been sitting on the hanging swing, watching me. I tugged open the screen door, and shot him a wintry glower, hoping that he wouldn't mention our failed tryst. When he stood up, pale moonlight shone on his dark hair and naked chest, and clad in just skin-tight leather pants that dropped low on his hips, it was all I could do not to ogle. No matter who was in the driver's seat, it was Dakota's body, and I loved every part of it. Even so, I felt like a traitor for admiring his near perfect form.
I broke away from Atticus's fierce stare, and glanced at the inner door, slightly ajar.
"They're all in there waiting," he said in his smooth Irish accent, and I instinctively shuddered. If I had less than twenty-four hours left, the last thing I wanted to do was to spend it with anyone in there.
"Why didn't anyone come for me?" I asked, irritated that no one seemed to care that I had escaped.
Atticus shrugged. "How far could you really go in the dark, with no vehicle? Besides, I think I made myself clear about what would happen to anyone who decided to help you, and of course there was a fail safe in place."
"A fail safe?" I asked.
"Mira tweaked your tracking spell, so that no matter how far you drift, you'll always be forced back to the house."
I wanted to be mad, but I didn't have the energy. I crossed my arms, and walked toward him.
"I think I'll wait out here a bit before I go in," I said.
The air had cooled considerably, and I shivered, clutching the ripped front of my blouse together. I took a seat on the far end of the swing. Atticus gazed out at the night, as if he could see something in the gloom.
"You really popped Mira," he said, and I saw a hint of a smile curve his lips.
I smirked, remembering how good it had felt to wipe the smug expression off her face.
"She had it coming," I said, looking up at the thousands of glittering stars above my head. There was no way to overlook the beauty of the place. Far from the city, the air was fresher, the sky clearer, and the scent of the last blooms of the season, intoxicating. Had the circumstances been different, I would have cherished every moment I spent there, but the concept of my impending death had a way of overshadowing everything else.
"Why are you going along with this? Why don't we just get out of here and...?" I said, trailing off, surprised that I had even suggested he leave with me.
I wrapped my arms around my torso, reminding myself that the man I was sitting next to wasn't Dakota anymore. Sometimes it was so mind-bending and difficult to believe, because a person couldn't just disappear, even in multiple personality disorders the other identity was still inside, somewhere. And it made me wonder if Dakota was suffering from a psychological disorder that maybe he could be treated for.
Atticus slid forward until his head rested on the backrest. He closed his eyes, and his face went slack. "I'm doing it because I've been groomed most of my life for this task," he said.
"That makes no sense, you're not a mindless puppet," I said, clenching my fists.
Atticus's eyes snapped open, and his back stiffened. "Don't presume to judge me, you know nothing about me," he snarled.
"Then tell me," I said, lowering my voice and squaring my shoulders. “Tell me what you're planning because no matter what you said before, you were..."
His hand, vise like, snatched me around the neck, before I could finish the sentence, and this time he didn't hold back.
"Hold your tongue," he breathed, his face dark with fury.
My eyes felt like they would pop out, and I soon became light-headed, I scratched at his hands, struggling to free myself, but he was too strong.
"Unhand her."
Atticus released his grip, and I fell sideways against the swing. I took a few shaky gulps of air, and massaged the bruised flesh of my neck, then coughed a few times. Tyanak glided across the porch toward me, and when she did, I noticed that she was hovering a few inches off the veranda floor.
"Do not lay a hand on her until it is time," Tyanak said, in a menacing tone, and Atticus's eyes widened.
"I won't your Grace," he stuttered, running a shaky hand through his hair.
The Aswang cut her icy blue eyes toward me and smiled, showcasing her shark-like teeth.
“You must shower, then eat, then sleep, Elise. You must be rested for the ritual tomorrow," she said.
I almost laughed out loud. Was she actually telling me that I had to be bright-eyed and bushy-tailed for my death?
"Take her to Mira," Tyanak said, motioning to Atticus.
He gave a quick nod, and leapt to his feet. It surprised me how much control the Aswang seemed to have over him. He reached for my arm, but before he touched me, he jerked his hand away. I got to my feet, still a little woozy.
"I don't want anything to do with Mira," I said, keeping my voice as even as I could. "I'll be fine on my own, I won't run."
Tyanak gave a curt nod, and jabbed a finger at the inner door
“Go then, but if you go back on your word, we will be forced to take more extreme measures."
I shook my head and moved forward, thankful to be dismissed. I didn't bother looking back at Atticus, and strode into the house and down to my room. The place seemed deserted, and I imagined that Nanny Flo, Mira, and the other two Aswang were probably out in the garage doing hell knew what, in preparation for the next evening.
When I walked into my room, I snatched a clean pair of white cotton shorts and a black fitted t-shirt from my suitcase. I laid them on the bed, then tread to the bathroom, locking myself in. For a fleeting moment I thought about barring the door to the bathroom, and never coming out, or at least waiting until the blood moon had passed, but even I knew that they would break the door down to get to me.
I stripped off, and stepped into the steamy shower. As the hot water pounded my body, I thought about how I was counting down the hours of my life. I might have laughed at the absurdity of it all, if I hadn't been living it. I dipped my head under the shower head and the water turned crimson at my feet, as old blood washe
d from my hair.
I touched the back of my head, and felt the shallow gash that I had all but forgotten about. I lathered the fragrant lilac scented soap all over my body, and I tried to wash away all the events of the day, and though I wanted to forget most of it, I couldn't help but linger on the recollection of my encounter with Atticus, or Dakota as I liked to think.
My body prickled, remembering the feel of his hands on me, and how contrary to his gruff demeanor, he had been so gentle. I purposefully decided to ignore that he had almost strangled me just a few minutes before.
After I had thoroughly scoured my body and hair, I wrapped an oversized terry towel that smelled like Ivory soap around my body, and retreated to my bedroom. Only after I had passed over the threshold of the bedroom door, did I see Atticus sitting on the edge of the bed, his eyes smoldering with desire.
I closed the door behind me, and turned the key in the lock. He was silent as he watched me moved toward him. Halfway across the room, I dropped the towel and stood naked, my body and hair still dripping from my shower. His body jerked as if he wanted to stand up, but something prevented him from doing so.
It seemed like forever before I reached him. I slipped into the space beside him, leaning into him, pressing my naked breasts against his muscled arm, and he inhaled sharply, then edged away from me. Not ready to give up, I reached for him, but he twisted, then sprang to his feet until he was standing at the side of the bed, staring down at me.
"Don't you want me?" I asked, determined to give it one more shot.
"I'm not here for that," he said, casting his eyes away in what seemed an almost boyish act. It amazed me that someone as powerful as Atticus could exude that type of energy.
I stretched out on the bed, making sure that every female part I owned was in plain view, and even I was surprised by my nerve. Unfortunately, it was a waste of time because Atticus kept his eyes glued to the closed door.
"Then what do you want?" I asked, exasperated that my last attempt at foiling everyone's plans was quickly slipping from my grasp. Suddenly, he was on top of me, his chest a foot away from mine, as he balanced on his arms. His leather pants were cold against my damp skin and I shivered. Though his face was painstakingly close, our bare skin didn't touch.
"Don't mention anything about what I put in the fireplace," he said in hardly a whisper. His eyes were intense and surprisingly laced with fear, and it scared me to see him this shaken.
"Why?"
"Because if you do, you'll fuck up the only chance I have, to get out of this alive," he said.
My eyes grew wide, and unexpected relief flooded my senses, but I refused to let him see it.
"Why would I care what happened to you? As far as I can see, my head is still on the chopping block," I said, and shoved him.
As soon as we connected he moaned, then rolled off the bed, and was back on his feet, glaring down at me.
"Don't touch me," he growled, clearly rankled by my touch, and I wondered what was going through his mind.
"Like I said, why should I help you?"
I pushed up until my back was flush against the cold wood of the headboard.
"Because if I live, then that part of me that is Dakota lives too," he said, arching an eyebrow exactly the way Dakota always did. That action alone solidified my decision. I would do exactly what he asked, but that didn't mean I couldn't make him squirm a little.
"Dakota's gone," I said dryly.
He snickered.
"I know you don't believe that for a second."
He smirked, and with those few words he had called my bluff. I had nothing left to say.
"Fine, I'll keep what I know to myself, but you have to give me something in return."
I snatched my shorts and t-shirt from the chair, turned my back to him and proceeded to dress.
"What could you possibly want in return? And just to be clear, sex is completely out of the question."
With my shirt still clutched in my hand, I spun to face him. He shot me a sardonic grin, and I hated that as usual, he was holding all the cards, still, I wasn't giving up that easy.
"I want to know what your plan is," I said, threading my arms into the holes of my t-shirt. His eyes raked over my body and I knew it was taking all of his will to stay away, and as petty as it might have been, I liked having that effect on him.
He crossed his arms over his naked chest, and widened his stance.
"Why would you care what I have planned, you'll be dead anyway?"
I shrugged. "If you're going to stick it to any of the bitches that plan to kill me, I want to know. It might not save me, but at least I'll get a bit of pleasure, knowing that someone got a little payback."
He broke into laughter, and dropped his arms to his sides, clearly amused.
"You should have been the carrier," he said, then shook his head, before perching on the opposite side of the bed.
And even with Atticus at the helm, I knew from his expression that he was going to give in and tell me everything, and it felt good, because knowing his plan wouldn't save my life, but it would somehow make me feel better to actually know something that Nanny Flo and Mira didn't.
23. ATTICUS
Atticus was still sitting on the hanging swing, when the sun rose the next morning. Pink and gold streaked the sky, like the iridescent flesh of a salmon, and though he hadn't slept at all, he didn't feel tired, because tension had him pumped full of energy. What was more troubling than his insomnia, was that he hadn’t been able to shake the feeling that he couldn't let Elise die, not tonight or any time in the near future. The power the part called Dakota had on him, had grown three fold over the past forty-eight hours, and it was more than a little unsettling.
"Fuck," he whispered, pulling his fingers for the hundredth time through his hair.
All night, he had been trying to come up with a plan to silence the part called Dakota, before it could interfere with the ceremony. The parasite had already clouded his judgment, and forced him into telling Elise every detail of his plan, something that he never should have done. And as soon as he had spilled the proverbial beans, he had cursed his every word, because now he knew it would only take a few words from Elise to completely unravel his plans.
The screen door cocked open, and Mira stepped out onto the porch, her expression bright. Her short hair was still wet from a recent shower, and she had changed into a lilac spaghetti strap tank top, that was scandalously too tight across her chest. Her super short, faded cut-off jeans were so snug that Atticus wondered how she moved at all. All this, combined with the satisfied grin blazoned across her face, made him want to smash in her teeth. The sudden and intense revulsion for Mira, reminded him once again, that the parasite Dakota was seizing more control from him by the second.
"You look like hell," she said, when she noticed him sitting there.
She rushed over, and ran a cool hand down his cheek, then slipped onto his lap, her buttocks positioned perfectly in the part of his anatomy that should have been hard at just the sight of her, but wasn't. In fact Atticus was doing all he could to suppress the disgust he had for her.
He lifted her off his lap, and dropped her into the space next to him, then got to his feet.
"Atticus what's wrong, don't you want me anymore," Mira said, in a child like voice, that still managed to drip with sexual tension.
When he didn't respond, she leapt up, seized his hand and shoved it down the front of her top, forcing his fingers to cup a breast. He jerked his hand away, as if he had been scalded.
"Is it that bitch? You want her now, is that it?" She angled a hip to the side, and her face turned ugly with anger. "Well, you can't have her," she yelled, balling her fists tight at her sides.
He stared at Mira, clueless as to what allure she'd ever held over him, and it scared him that he was even entertaining those kind of thoughts. He was supposed to copulate with her in a few hours, what if he couldn't live up to his side of the bargain? Just the concept of him being i
mpotent, made him rear on her.
"Have you forgotten that we're not supposed to be together until tonight?" he snarled. Wary of his sudden hostility, she took a few steps back.
"I…I know, but I just wanted to play a little," she said, trying to stroke his cheek.
He snatched her hand in midair, and squeezed her wrist, and an image of the bones in her arm snapping like a twig beneath his fingers, entered his mind.
"Let me go, you're hurting me," Mira said, squirming. And without warning, he was back in his prison, looking through Dakota's eyes, and he saw Mira struggling to be free, but he couldn't let go. Her eyes were crazed, and filled with agony, and he heard her beg him to stop. Then she was on her knees at his feet, and her pleas had changed to piercing screams. Her skin was clammy, her face washed of color, yet he maintained his grip. Then he heard a revolting pop, and felt the bones crunch against his fingertips. Mira went limp, all her weight going to her now broken arm. In that instant Dakota took over his vocal cords, and Atticus was helpless to stop it.
"If you hurt Elise, I'll make sure you die too."
Then everything went black.
He awoke to the demented howls of the Aswang, a sound that he had heard too many times while they had tortured him. Their wordless lamentations, were only made when they were on the brink of losing control, and when that happened, they would cast all semblances of humanity aside, and shift to their truly monstrous forms.
Atticus's eyes opened wider, it took him a few seconds to gain his bearings and decide his next move. He knew without being told, that they had found Mira and now they were going to rip him to pieces, and feast on his flesh for his insubordination. He pushed up onto his feet, and was relieved that nobody seemed to care about him.
"Who did this to you?" Nanny Flo demanded.
Mira murmured something, but Atticus couldn't hear what she had said.
"Speak up girl," Nanny Flo ordered, and that was when Mira clapped eyes on Atticus. He froze, and slowly backed away, feeling the blood leave his face. Suddenly, his whole body was almost convulsing with dread.
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