Man. Fate was such an ugly bitch.
The phone caught her gaze but instead of going to it, she shambled into the living room and stared at the gaping open window frame. The glass was shattered, laying all over the floor. A few distant thoughts circled through her mind that she should clean up the glass—she didn’t want Rufus cutting his feet.
But the distant thoughts never quite spurred any action. All she did was shuffle around the perimeter of the room until she could get to the door. She hadn’t even closed it after she’d dragged Kel inside her house and now, the interior of the house was cool. Shivering, she reached for the door and started to shut it—
But the sunlight creeping over the horizon caught her eye. Don’t look don’t look don’t look—but she looked. Smears and splatters of blood all over the porch. A couple of busted floorboards and the banister on the western side of the porch was trashed.
She could also see why the floodlight hadn’t been working earlier. It had been mounted on a wooden pole next to the driveway, and now, that wooden pole was split into two pieces, one laying off to the side and the bottom half jutting up from the earth.
One foot in front of the other, one step at a time, she moved out of the house, onto the porch and down the porch steps. The farther she went, the worse it got. As she neared the place where Kel had lain as he died, there was grass still wet with blood.
Sunlight fell across the grass at her feet—and the body laying just off to her right. Angel felt oddly disconnected as she shifted her gaze from the blood-stained grass to the corpse.
That weird disconnected feeling persisted as she stood there. In some part of her head she heard a weird, crackling hiss and in that same part of her head, she realized she smelled smoke. But she didn’t attribute the sounds or the scents to the body at her feet until the flames broke out.
It was sudden—one moment, nothing. Then next—whoosh. Flames exploded, greedily consuming the flesh and reaching out to lick at hers. Half in shock, Angel didn’t acknowledge the danger until the fiery pain scorched her flesh through her pants and she stumbled back, landing on her ass a few feet away as fire ate the body.
Even the bones burned and Angel was pretty certain that wasn’t normal. Bones didn’t burn like that…right?
The moments dragged on as she watched the fire consume the dead man’s body and those moments seemed to last forever, but in all reality, Angel knew it had only taken minutes. As the flames died down and faded away, completely on their own, the sun was still slowly rising in the east so it couldn’t have taken that much time.
A vise wrapped around her throat as she shoved to her feet, staring at the smoldering pile of ash. She fell back a step and as she did, something under her foot hissed. It felt like slow motion as she lowered her gaze, looking down…down…down…until she was staring at the blood-splattered grass.
The grass was steaming. Little wisps of steam rising up as the sunlight shed its light across the land. Steaming, the way water did when splashed on a hot skillet. But that wasn’t the only thing happened.
As the grass steamed, the blood disappeared—no, burned. The sun’s rays touched the blades of grass and steam rose upward, there was a hissing sound and then the grass was true and green once more. No sign of blood.
The blood—the sun was burning away the blood.
She jerked her head and stared at the pile of ash. A breeze kicked up and the pile of ash went flying. Angel hissed out a breath and backed away as a gray cloud filled the air. The wind died down and when it did, little of the ash remained.
And where the body had lain, the grass underneath was untouched. Not one blade of grass was burned.
Angel prided herself on being fairly rational. Aside from the few months she spent in a pit of despair after Kel… After that night, she tried to act with reason and not with emotion.
But no amount of reasoning would explain this away.
She retreated backwards towards the house, never dragging her eyes away from the spot where she’d watched the body burn. Save for a dusty bit of remnant ash, there was no sign that just a few minutes ago, a body had been burning in the front yard.
Once inside the house, she closed the door, taking extreme care to turn each lock. The care seemed a bit foolish since just off to the side, the gaping window frame would pretty much give anything or anybody a very easy entry.
“Maybe you’ve finally lost your mind.”
The more she thought about it, the more she realized that maybe there was a rational explanation. She’d gone crazy. It was a lot more rational to think she might be hallucinating than to consider the possibility that the sun had made that body burn.
This was real life.
Not fiction.
In real life, bodies didn’t burn on their own and they didn’t burn under sunlight either.
That only happened in movies or TV shows.
Her mind jerked away before she let herself finish that thought. Her thoughts shut down on her, jerked away, retreated back inside her and hiding, much like she was doing as she settled on the couch and pulled her knees to her chest, closing her eyes.
It hadn’t happened.
She didn’t know what was going on, didn’t know if something had happened to push her over the edge, but that was where she was.
It was the only thing that made sense.
Angel just might have spent the rest of the morning, maybe even the entire day, working to convince herself of just that. But a little after eleven, there was a knock on the door. Angel stayed where she was, her face pressed against her knees, her arms wrapped around her drawn-up legs. There was no reason to get up. No reason to answer the door. Something, maybe guilt, stirred in her chest and she thought of the injured man down in the basement—and…no.
No. Don’t think about him right now. Not yet.
But she should think about the guy who’d been hurt. Without understanding what had happened, she knew he had been hurt trying to watch out for her.
She should at least care about that as somebody continued to bang away at her door.
But before she could convince herself she needed to get up, answer the door before somebody panicked and called the cops, the knocking stopped. It occurred to her that maybe the cops had already been called.
Even without the corpse in her front yard, it was probably pretty obvious that something seriously weird had happened here. Her busted window. The destruction on the porch and the floodlight, its pole split apart like a toothpick. The glass littering the floor.
The glass—
If the glass hadn’t crunched, she might not have realized somebody was now in the room with her. But the glass did crunch out a quiet warning and Angel opened her eyes and leaped over the couch, placing it between her and the…
Girl?
Or at least, she looked like a girl. A high school senior, complete with a loose French braid, a fuchsia hoodie and skintight blue jeans that ended at a pair of slender ankles. Her small feet were clad in a pair of black ballet flats that had big yellow smiley faces all over. The expression on her face should have made her look like a petulant teenager, brows drawn low over her eyes, her pink-slicked mouth compressed into a tight frown.
But Angel’s gut told her it wasn’t a teenager she was facing.
“Who are you and what the hell are you doing in my house?” Angel demanded.
The girl sighed, reached up to tuck a strand of hair behind an ear that was boasting some serious metal—a good ten silver hoops, studs or strands. She didn’t answer Angel’s question though. She planted her hands and her hips and asked a question of her own. “Where are they?”
That crisp, clear British accent seemed very much at odds with the girl’s appearance—or at least, Angel thought so. A little startled by both the voice and the question, she blinked and then squinted. “Who?”
Rolling her eyes, the girl said, “Santa Claus and his elf, sweeting. You know who I’m looking for—I see it in your eyes.”
&nbs
p; Too much, Angel decided. It was just too fucking much. After the night she’d had, this was too much. The man she loved had come back from the dead, only he very much was dead now. Some seriously weird naked guy was down in her basement with her dead lover’s corpse—oh, God…
The monster from forgotten nightmares emerging from the night and even though he was dead now, he’d taken Kel with him and then she’d watched in utter shock as the thing’s body lit up like some magic act’s pyrotechnic display, burning away to ash.
And now some short, stuck-up kid was standing in her house…
Angel snarled and pointed to the door. “Get the hell out.” She just barely managed to keep from stomping her foot.
The girl narrowed her eyes. They were heavily made up, but for some reason, it suited her—just like the hoops, studs and fishhook earrings suited her. And just like that look of icy disdain suited her.
“I didn’t come all this way to have some silly psychic chit try to throw me out before I can do what I came to do.”
Psychic—
Angel went cold. Not because of the word—she knew what she was.
But because nobody else knew. Kel had, but he was gone. Nobody else. She hadn’t even told her dad. Through stiff lips, she asked, “What did you say?”
“Bloody hell, what am I doing this for?” The girl turned away and heaved out a sigh, her shoulders slumping. She covered her face with her hands and muttered under her breath.
Although Angel couldn’t hear the words, she didn’t need to. If she hadn’t been so completely shaken, she would have had a few of her own.
The girl took a deep breath as she turned back to Angel. The look on her young face didn’t seem to fit, not now, not as the girl’s eyes softened on Angel’s face. “You’ve had a time, haven’t you? I’m sorry. I don’t want to be here, but that’s hardly your fault, now is it?”
Angel tried to reach for her anger again. It was a lot easier to deal with than the icy fear snaking through her. But she couldn’t quite manage to find the anger—hell, she barely managed to find her voice as she said again, “Get out.”
The woman shook her head. “I can’t do that, love.” She tipped her head back, her lids drooping low over her eyes. She sighed and the sound whispered, echoed through the house.
When she looked back at Angel, her eyes were glowing.
Then she blinked, and whatever it was, disappeared. Her face was blank, devoid of weariness, devoid of disgust, devoid of any sort of emotion. But there was a world of it in her voice as she murmured, “I always get stuck cleaning up the messes.”
With that rather cryptic comment, she made her way through the mess of broken glass towards the kitchen. Angel went after her and reached out, grabbed the girl’s shoulder. “Damn it, you’re in my house.”
“Yes…and your house somehow ended up in the middle of our mess. I can’t just leave it like this, now can I?”
Angel had one of two options… Well, maybe three, but she wasn’t so sure that calling the cops was wise. Of course, she didn’t have much choice…not with—no. Damn it, no. Don’t think about that yet.
But Angel didn’t know how much longer she could not think about it.
Calling the cops didn’t seem to be the best choice, but she didn’t have the strength, or even the will, to drag some pissed-off, possibly insane coed out of her house kicking and screaming. So she went with the third choice. She followed along mutely and when the girl saw the two men and reacted like she’d found exactly what she’d expected, Angel realized she wasn’t all that surprised.
“Shite, Toronto. I’d have expected better of you.” She spoke in a level, calm tone, but she might as well have shouted it.
The words cracked through the basement and echoed back around them. The man on the floor hadn’t moved an inch since he’d lost consciousness earlier and Angel suspected the girl was wasting her time. Normally, Angel didn’t mess with pointing out the obvious, but hey, if it got the girl out of here quicker. “He can’t hear you.”
But to Angel’s surprise, the man’s lips curled up in a faint, sardonic smile. His eyes didn’t open and his voice was slurred, heavy with exhaustion. “Yeah. Me, too. Bastard had silver nitrate…” He sighed, licked his lips.
“Enough, boy. Tell me about it later.”
Boy… The naked man on the floor looked like he was fifteen to twenty years older than this chick. Yet he nodded, mumbled out, “Yeah. I’ll do that. Glad you’re here, Ness.”
Within another second or two, he was out again.
“Ness?”
The blonde flicked Angel a glance. “Aye. That’s me.” She sighed and there was a world of weariness in it. Reaching out, she laid a palm on the still-bleeding injury in the man’s side.
Although she didn’t know the guy from Adam, something inside Angel that still cared didn’t want to see him injured further. “He needs a doctor, not some kid poking at him.”
“Needs his head examined, that’s what he needs,” the girl muttered. Her voice was thick with disgust and she shot Angel a dark look from under her lashes.
Her eyes—that soft, misty blue eyes—shit, were they glowing? But then she blinked and looked away. So focused on the woman’s weird eyes, though, Angel completely missed something else glowing—the woman’s hand as it lay on the blond man’s injury. She rose after just a few seconds and shook her head. “Truly, Toronto, how the mighty have fallen.”
Angel might have wondered about that curious, cryptic statement, but the girl turned to Kel. She crouched down by him but when she reached out to touch him, Angel’s futile grief exploded into white-hot anger. She leaped forward and grabbed her hand. “Damn it, leave him alone.”
Ness—whatever kind of weird name that was, jerked her hand away and gave Angel a hard look. “I can’t very well help him if I don’t look him over, now can I?”
“He’s dead,” Angel shrieked.
And just like that, it hit her. The knowledge she’d shied around accepting came crashing down on her and she broke under the weight of it. A scream of harsh, raw denial tore from her throat and she sagged to her knees.
Sobs wracked her body, tears blinded her and she cried so hard, her throat and chest ached with the force of her grief.
Angel was unaware of the look that crossed over the girl’s face, unaware of anything and everything. Even when the girl sighed and came to her, knelt down and wrapped a slender arm around Angel’s shoulders, Angel was unaware.
Nothing could penetrate the heavy, choking shroud of grief.
She cried until there were no tears left. She cried until her voice gave out on her and her cries were little more than harsh pants. She cried until her entire body ached with it. And even when the storm started to ease, the pain lurked inside her heart, all too real, all too consuming.
A hand stroked down her back.
It took a few seconds for her head to process that she wasn’t alone—she’d forgotten about her unusual, unexpected guest until the girl spoke. “You haven’t a clue what’s going on, do you, sweet?”
Angel struggled free from the comforting embrace, crawling away. Her head ached, her throat was raw and when she swallowed, it sent a fresh lance of pain screaming through her system. The crying jag hadn’t alleviated the pain at all. She got a few feet between herself and the girl before she sat down and drew her legs up. She pressed her face to her knees and had to work just to breathe.
Ness sighed. “What an absolute fucking mess,” she said.
When she spoke again, her voice was demanding, commanding and firm—a voice not to be ignored. “Look at me, girl. Listen up.” Without understanding why, Angel looked.
Ness went to kneel down by Kel, touch her hand to his face and then looked at Angel. An odd, rather eerie smile curled her lips and she said, “With that gift of yours, you should understand well enough that there are many, many things in this world that cannot be rationally explained. That things aren’t always as they appear.”
She
cocked her head, her attention completely focused on Angel. “Do you believe that?”
Angel’s voice was a broken, raspy whisper, but the girl seemed to hear it well enough. “I know that a dead body is just that…dead.”
“Hmmm. But his body isn’t dead.” She held out a hand and said, “Come.”
Angel didn’t want to. She didn’t want to do anything but sit there and try to will her heart to stop beating. So why was she standing…walking…placing her hand in the girl’s uplifted one?
Ness tugged until Angel knelt beside her and then she guided Angel’s hand to Kel’s neck. Angel tensed and jerked away. She didn’t—couldn’t—the feel of his lifeless body, the sight of it, they were forever burned on her memory and she didn’t want to add to it.
But the girl either did some serious weight lifting or she was a cyborg under that fluffy fleece hoodie. She kept her hold on Angel’s wrist and forced Angel to lay her hand on Kel’s neck. “Wait…” She murmured. “Just wait.”
“Wait for what?” Angel snarled and tried to jerk back.
But then…she felt it.
It wasn’t a pulse. Not really. It was too vague. Too insubstantial to be a pulse. A flutter, maybe. Like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. Her breath lodged in her lungs, her fingers tensed, spread. Angel swore and went still, waiting.
Five seconds passed. Ten. And nothing… Swearing, Angel tried to free her hand again. She was going to go upstairs, get the phone and call the cops. So what if she couldn’t explain…
Another flutter.
Five seconds later, another.
A soundless sob escaped her lips. “What in the hell is going on?” she demanded—or tried to. Her words came out in a gruff, rasping croak that barely made sense to her.
But Ness seemed to understand well enough. A sad smile curled her lips and she shook her head. “Now that’s an explanation that isn’t mine to make.”
“Then damn it, who will make it?”
“I’d say he better.”
“How is he supposed…”
Ness smiled. “Don’t you get it, sweet? He isn’t dead…and he isn’t going to die. At least not from this.” She let go of Angel’s hand, and in an abrupt shift, the sharp, clear focus of her gaze went cloudy and a frown appeared on her face as she focused on Kel. “Damn ugly mess on your chest, lad. Did he try to you open with his own hands?”
Hunter's Edge Page 19
