Soft light shown strongly through the front windows giving the house a glow Katherine had always associated with home. Her life had been so dark lately she had almost forgotten those times in her life. The wonderful ones her father had carefully carved out. There were hard spots, but she never wanted for anything she truly needed and everything was neatly explained. She thought of what she was told of how her mother died, contemplated the thing in the backseat. Was that another half truth?
Standing in the foyer she wasn’t sure what she sought. She looked around the living room, her eyes roving over the photos. She stopped at the only picture that was not of her and Mitch. Mother’s photo smiled back. Thinking, she turned toward the stairs. Family photos. There must be some somewhere, or records, or something. There had to be somewhere to start. Reaching in her pocket she took out the little key. Then there was this. Something important lay behind that lock and it was time she found out what.
Katherine found her way upstairs. It seemed she was getting there through some strength other than her own, being drawn and maybe she should know better than to let that strangely foreign force lead. Living in the darkness was starting to draw her down into the depths of things and places she didn’t understand. It was time to face the malevolent forces and the fears that lay hidden within those shadows. It was time to learn how to survive in this new circumstance before it was too late. She reached out and grasped the door frame to her father’s room. The two albums lay on the bed. It was a start.
With a pause she tried to think where she hid things that were for her eyes only. The little key seemed to pulse in her hand. In the back of her mind it felt like a warning, so she turned to the bed. The little books where she kept thoughts, feelings, dreams and the nightmares that plagued her were her most private secrets. They lay hidden in a black box tucked far away under the bed. Literally right under Nigel’s nose, but where he would never think to look, even if he cared. The dust bunnies stood guard, waiting for her to add to her personal writings.
Smiling she knelt beside the bed and reached out for the edge of the covers.
“How well we know each other Dad. You’re my treasure.”
A strange feeling came over her. Like a child looking to see if there were monsters under the bed. Uneasily, cautiously, she drew back the covers. Leaning over to peer into the darkness beneath she spotted an outline. There was a box at the head of the bed. Reaching out to retrieve it every hair stood on end as her hand passed through thick cob webs and came in contact with its cool, slick surface.
A sharp clack came from the room behind her. Katherine jumped, banging her head on the edge of the bed frame. She slid the box quickly from underneath, came back hard on her ass – back against the wall. Sitting stiff as a board she was very still and quiet, listening intently. Every nerve on the surface of her skin prickled as her heart beat hard. She scanned the room, listened for sounds from the hallway beyond.
The clack came again and then a rustling from behind one of the cabinet doors. She got to her feet, set the dusty box on the bed and walked lightly, cautiously to where the rustling sound was emanating. The wooden door was smooth under her fingertips as she pulled it open and peered inside. There, just beyond the light, two beady red eyes looked back from the darkness.
Chapter three
The two glowing orbs rushed forward and leapt from the murkiness. The furry rat raced across her feet drawing an alarmed shriek from Katherine who scuttled backward. Relief washed over her as she leaned against the wall.
“I’ve got to get some rest. I’m making mice into monsters,” she chuckled half heartedly as she walked over to the drawer with the little bronze lock. The humor dissipated as quickly as it had come. Fishing around in her pocket she found the key, drew it out, turned it over in her hand.
“Do I really want to know?”
All the sleepless nights ran through her mind. Visions of her father lying in a hospital settled on her conscience. How convenient it all was. Just as he was about to tell her what was going on he’d fallen so helplessly ill? Answering the questions might be the only way, the only chance she had to stop it. She took a deep breath, put the key in the lock, and turned it.
Slowly Katherine drew the heavy drawer out. At first glance it reminded her of the junk drawer in the kitchen. Inside was foreign currency that looked very old, a set of wedding rings tied together with a red ribbon, letters bound in similar fashion, various stacks of folded, official looking papers and at the bottom of the drawer – a very old book. She laid the letters on the dresser, pushed the rings aside, and pulled out the book.
It was ancient for a book, with a worn cover that might have once been black, but was now faded to a charcoal grey. There had once been inscriptions in gold leaf on the front, accompanied by a large symbol that was now indistin-guishable. Katherine ran her fingers over it, felt the sunken areas, tried to make out the image. Her hand stroked the side, one finger under the edge of the cover. It was heavy and smelled of age and dust. Another familiar smell ascended from its yellowing pages. It wasn’t anything she associated with her father, not that distinct smell of his home and car and clothes. The smell was musty, of dampness, moss and…
“The lake!” For just that moment the smell brought back visions of the place she visited night after night. There was no doubt in Katherine’s mind that when she finally set foot in the grand old house, that’s what it would smell like.
The phone rang. Carrying the book with her, she sat it on the bed beside the photo albums and the black shoe box. She picked the phone up on the fifth ring.
“Hello.”
“Where the hell’re you?” Nigel spoke with the possession of an owner and not the concern of a lover.
“What’s wrong, darling? No one to make the coffee?”
“The bed hasn’t even been slept in. Where’ve you been?”
A charged stillness laid on the air as Katherine’s eyes narrowed.
“Well, if the bed hasn’t been slept in maybe I should be asking you that question. I’ve been at the hospital all night. And you?”
Only frustrated and angry breaths emanated from the other end of the line.
“No answer? Well, it doesn’t matter. With the flavor of the week or out bar hopping. Makes no difference. I’ve had enough. I’m not a pair of shoes. Something you can wear when you want and throw in the closet the rest of the time. The apartment’s yours. The lease runs out at the end of the month. You have until then to switch everything over. I’ll come get my stuff in a few days.”
Stunned silence. Katherine hung up. It felt good. She stood up, looked at the intimidating stack of items on the bed, then set about finding one of her father’s terry cloth robes and a towel.
Once in the shower she let the water wash over her tired body. The weak person she’d been fighting washed away, swirling down the drain. Freedom was sweet and invigorating. Eventually the hot water ran out and she stepped out onto the soft, thick bath rug, wiped the mist from the mirror.
“Nothing’s forever,” she mused aloud. “Hmmm… talking to yourself again. That can’t be a good sign.”
The room that had once housed teenage paraphernalia was a study now. The closet still held a few things. An extra pair of clothes, shoes, a few old books.
“It’s always been home, Dad.”
The blue jeans were a little snug on the hips and frayed at the bottom, but were otherwise cozy. In the floor was a pair of cheap canvas tennis shoes with a pair of ankle socks tucked neatly inside. She gathered the shoes in one hand and squirmed into the white button down shirt on her way to the master bedroom. Learning forward she rubbed her hair with the towel, then brushed it out and headed downstairs with the box, albums, and book.
The Jeep quietly awaited. Cautiously she approached, peered into the interior. After checking all the areas where things might hide she got in, laying her discoveries in the passenger
seat.
“Well, that might be a bit conspicuous...”
A dark gym bag lay in the back seat. Unzipping it, she shook the contents out into the floor. The book fit neatly in the bottom, just the right width not to bend its cover. The contents of the shoe box went in loosely on top, followed by her purse.
The drive back to the hospital seemed longer than it should have been. Once there she pulled out the bag, shifted the weight until she felt balanced and headed inside. Mitch was back in his room tucked neatly into bed. The monitors beeped rhythmically. She looked down at him, swallowed hard. Reaching out she gently brushed a stray hair into place.
“Hang in there Dad, I’m looking. I just hope it helps.”
The little red headed nurse with the English accent came in just as she plopped down in the bedside chair.
“Ah, see ya at least got a shower and change. Ya really shoulda gotten some rest as well. The doc should be up to see him before long.”
“How did the tests go?”
“Well, I couldn’t tell ya. We nurses just administer the treatment and care, little need to tell us anything sooner then that and they don’t.” She glanced at Katherine then added, “Sorry.”
“No, you must have an entire floor of people. It would be impossible to keep up with all the stuff that goes on.”
“You’re right ‘bout that.” She smiled, checked the equipment, made some notes and left.
The bag seemed to beckon from its place on the floor. Reaching down Katherine drew the zipper slowly open. There had been loose photos, birth certificates, death certificates and other vital papers in the box. The top photo drew her attention. It was of a large family, posed in front of a familiar house.
The Victorian manor stood authoritatively in the background. It looked warm and inviting, well kept, the grounds immaculate and the people just as pristine. Some sat, some stood in rows. Gentlemen in waist coats, bow ties, hat in hand. The women in long dresses that swept the ground, some with hats, some leaning on parasols with their hands neatly crossed. No one smiled. Their faces were gloomy, serious, eerily stony.
Katherine found the picture disturbing. She laid it aside and looked at the others. Some were of individuals in similar pose, some were of the house, others were harder to discern. There was one in particular where the participants were sitting on blankets by the lake – and she had no doubt that it was The Lake. They seemed to be having a picnic and frolicking.
“Family. These are my ancestors. I have family.” She paused, “Had family, I suppose. Right Dad? You said there was only one left. But there are so many here. This couldn’t have been more than the late 1800s, maybe even early 1900s. How could so many people have not left children? Cousins? Nephews? Nieces?” She looked at him as he lay unresponsive. “What happened?” Katherine continued to sift through the photos and papers, studying them carefully.
‡
Mitch felt himself being drawn out of the darkness where he had lain silently screaming, able to hear and feel everything around him. Light came in around the edges, then he was in a hospital room, with Katherine sitting by the bed, drawing old photos from her gym bag. The window was cold at his back as he reached around to close the back of the hospital gown.
“Katherine.” He reached out, but found he could not advance forward.
“She can’t hear you,” a deep guttural voice spoke from the corner.
The familiar voice froze Mitch to the spot. It had been nearly thirty years since he’d heard that growling baritone. A heavy arm came to rest across his shoulder, then a claw-like hand grasped his upper arm. He looked up into the face of the thing he feared most. Greystone stood, his gaze fixed on him as a predator watches prey. The smile gleaming there showed rows of long, white teeth.
“Aren’t you pleased to see me, old friend?”
Mitch looked again at his own body lying in the bed. The heart monitor jumped, then returned to normal. Katherine looked up, paid close attention, then turned back to what she was doing.
“You’re not dead. At least not yet.” His arm slipped from Mitch’s shoulders, claws grazing his skin, drawing blood. “She’s quite the looker. No wonder you’ve gone to such pains to keep her to yourself.” Greystone shook his folded wings. “Ohhh, what fun I could have with a body like that. What pleasures I would show her,” he drawled the words as he circled behind Katherine, breathed deeply of her hair.
Katherine shivered, looked around, returned to the papers.
“And so full of power she doesn’t even know she has, much less learned how to use, even to defend herself; thanks to you.” He glanced sideways at Mitch with a smirk. The father in him struggled to gain control. “That’s it, fight. Feed me with your fear. Make me stronger.” He ran a taloned hand along her hair, neck, shoulders, never quite touching. She shivered again, laid the papers in her lap.
“Ummmm… I’ve slumbered far too long. I’ve got to gain my strength back, but once I do…Ummm…Yes, I think we will make a nice pair, Miss McKalister is it? She and I. We’ll remedy that, bring back the line. Stronger. The blood of demi-gods mixed with pure power.”
Mitch struggled, his voice tumbled free. “You can’t… have her. She does… doesn’t know. She… has no… no part in this.”
Greystone laughed. “She’s a McKlannen. That gives her a part in this. Power and human greed. No one is immune to that. Not even precious Katherine. She’ll come back to the fold soon enough. I’ve guarded the line long, I can’t let it die out now. I won’t let it all go to waste.” He bent until they were eye to eye. “Ummm, tasty.” The long, thick tongue extended, not quite touching her face. He inhaled deeply, drawing in her smell. Taking in the scent of her blood as it pumped through her veins. “Yes, she is sumptuous. You may even gain a few points for her. After all, you are the sire. Pure and strong willed McKlannen blood if ever I smelled it. She’s the key to rebuilding the family. A source of greater power than we have ever accomplished. Pure power runs through those veins and once she has tasted it there will be no resisting the urge to use it. It’s time for her to come home where she belongs. With power like hers we’ll never be vulnerable again.”
“You leave her alone!”
Greystone crumpled to the floor, curling himself around the chair like a cat lounging on a window sill. He gazed up, his head propped on his hand like an admiring lover.
‡
Katherine rubbed her arms, wondered where the chill was coming from. A vase of flowers on the bedside table caught her eye. She reached over, picked it up. There was a mixture of fall themed flowers carefully arranged around one single white rose. The tag read:
From all of us at ‘We R Flowers’, get well soon.
“That was sweet, I’m sorry I missed you guys.” She looked at Mitch. “No, I’m not talking to myself, I’m talking to you. I know you can hear me. I can feel it,” her brow furrowed, “Somehow.” She turned the ornate vase in her hand, felt a sharp prick, pulled back as if she’d been stung by a wasp.
A large crimson drop formed on the end of one finger, then dripped off. It plummeted toward the floor, disappeared mid air. With a start she pushed back on the chair. Not only did it not move, but her feet were stuck solidly to the floor as though they were held there.
‡
Greystone chuckled as he licked the blood from his lips and held Katherine’s feet. “Oh, yes. She is as sweet as she looks.”
Mitch fought hard for control. In a moment of epiphany he relaxed, went completely blank, completely limp. Greystone lost his hold. In one swift movement, Mitch leapt back to consciousness, felt his body, raised up from the bed as he opened his eyes wide, searching.
‡
Katherine’s alarm rose as she struggled to move. She dropped the vase. It fell, hit something above the floor, then bounced and shattered.
Mitch shot upward with a deep, gasping breath. Katherine watched in s
tunned dismay as he lurched forward, landing on the glass in the floor. He scrambled there, searching through the shards, cuts opening in crimson threads on his skin. Grasping a large, long splinter he drove it deep into his neck – drew it across the jugular vein with enough force to create a gaping, rushing wound.
Katherine watched in ever growing horror. Her feet came free as she felt movement beside her. It was of no consequence. She rushed forward, tried to cover the gushing cut with her hands.
“Help me! Help! Somebody help!” she let out one earsplitting scream after another that ended in a gurgling sob. “Why, Dad, Why?”
‡
His eyes sought her one last time. ‘You’ll come to understand,’ he thought as the world closed in around him and he felt himself slip away. Greystone had no choice but to follow.
‡
She struggled to make her small hands spread far enough to cover the wound, to stop the flow of precious blood. Medical personnel replaced her efforts, pushing her aside to sit helplessly on the cool, hard floor in the corner sobbing. The battle waged for a half hour with personnel pouring in and out of the room, but to no avail.
The events all tumbled in on her in horrible disarray. Sobbing uncontrollably she tried to answer their questions. Finally, unable to calm her, the attending physician administered something with a needle and darkness closed in.
‡
Fog materialized out of the blackness as she began to wake from her stupor.
“Hello there.” A small, stout nurse with black hair and dark eyes reached down and clutched her wrist. “How’re you feeling?”
Soul Inheritance Page 4
