"Run then," Barny said. "I'm not letting some asshole chase me out of town. Not my parents, not the Sheriff, not this asshole Porter."
"You don't know what you're facing," Melchizedek said.
Lily turned to him. "Listen to him, Barny."
A sneer curled Barny's lip. "Call me Barnabas. I'm done pretending I'm something I'm not. Human? I always knew there was more to this, more to me. Why fight it? Barny was a lie, and if you had any sense you'd call yourself Lilith."
She shook her head, trying to come to terms with what Barny was saying, and failing. "My name is Lily."
"Hide from it all you want. I won't hide from Porter, or anyone else."
Melchizedek spoke quietly. "You don't know how powerful he is."
Barny picked up a burning branch out of the fire and squinted at it. The wood ignited, incinerated almost immediately. "I don't care how strong he is. I know how powerful I am."
Melchizedek drew his shadows around himself. "You're a fool. If you fight, you will die. Or worse."
Barny flicked his hand, scattering wood-ash to the breeze.
"Come with us to El Paso, Lily," Delilah said. "There's nothing left for us here."
"I can't abandon my family," Lily said. "Not if there's a chance we can fix this."
"We're your family," Delilah said.
"No," Gideon pulled her aside. "Let her stay. We can't force her. We have to respect her decision."
Tears welled up in Delilah's eyes.
"Stay with me," Lily said. "I'll talk to my dad, maybe he can--"
"I'm not willing to wager our lives on that." Gideon put a protective arm around Delilah.
"Gideon--"
"I'm sorry." He shook his head. "We've made our choice."
Delilah's voice was quiet, almost indistinct. "If... if things don't work out here, come find us in El Paso."
Gideon turned to Jessie. "What about you?"
"I made the choice to defy my parents," the girl said. "And stand with my brothers and sisters."
"You don't have to, Jessie," Lily said.
Jessie walked over to her. "If you're staying, I will stay with you. Come what may."
Lily gave her a quick hug. "What about you, Melchizedek?"
"I know too well what Porter can do." He turned to Delilah. "Do you need a lift to El Paso?"
"No." she said quickly. "No, that won't be necessary."
"Very well. If we don't meet again--" he trailed off.
The shadows around him deepened, and he was gone.
Lily stood with Jessie, watching as Gideon left with Delilah, feeling like everything had gone utterly, terribly wrong, but unable to figure out any way to fix them.
She noticed that someone else was missing. "Where's Barny?"
Jessie shook her head, a small frown on her face.
***
It didn't take the local police long to find Porter once he'd crossed the threshold into town. He stood patiently, waiting in the middle of the street, while a pair of patrol cars pulled to a stop ahead of them. Two men emerged from each vehicle, one of them badly beaten, sporting a cast and a neck-brace.
"Porter!" the injured man called.
His badge identified him as Sheriff. Porter remembered having met the man once. Cedric, Cedar, Cermak. Something. Didn't matter.
"Bob said you were on your way. Didn't expect you to get here so quickly."
Porter watched the man, taking the measure of his injuries. The bruising wasn't defensive. Whomever had hurt him had done it quickly.
"I just want you to know that my men and I are here to offer you our full support to resolve this situation as quickly and with as little collateral damage as possible."
Porter folded his arms.
The Sheriff watched him, waiting, and grew nervous. Porter could smell its stink.
"So if there's anything you need--"
He spoke. "You know where they is?"
The Sheriff stopped. His voice had that effect on people, sometimes.
"Sometimes the town youths meet at the old drive-in theater, up that way."
Porter turned.
The Sheriff took a step after him. "If there's anything we can do?"
The killer looked back over his shoulder. "Stay out of my way."
He stepped, leaving the patrol cars far behind him.
CHAPTER THREE
The man didn't look like much to Barnabas.
Kinda homely, kinda dumpy. Long gross stringy hair, dirty-ass coat. Built like a barrel, in bad need of a shave.
At least thirty, thirty-five. An old man.
Barnabas grabbed the baseball bat out of the back of his pickup.
"You're the big bad boogie man that has Mel pissing his pants?" he called. "You're who I'm supposed to be afraid of?"
The man stopped, still two dozen yards away.
"Porter, right?" Barnabas walked towards him, idly swinging the bat against his leg. "Why exactly are you such a holy terror?"
Porter didn't respond.
Barnabas found the silence a little off-putting. "You look like a homeless guy. That your deal with Carter? Three squares and a cot if you kill children for him?"
He'd been hoping to get more of a rise out of the guy, but there was no back and forth, no chatter. No banter.
"Nothing to say?" Barnabas studied the stranger, and realized that the man wasn't evaluating him back. He was just... watching. Waiting. Unconcerned. There was no boasting, no bragging, no mind games, just a steady predatory gaze, and that unnerved Barnabas more than anything.
And then Porter moved. One moment he was half a block away, and the next he was grabbing Barnabas by the collar and belt, spinning him, hurling him across the street into the side of his truck. Barnabas felt his spine take the impact, felt the metal deform and bend around him, and then Porter was there again, pulling Barnabas by the shoulders, driving the broad flat of his knee into the young man's gut.
The breath left Barnabas's lungs in an explosion of pain, and he was air-born again, thrown over Porter's shoulder into the street. He hit the asphalt and bounced, rolled, coming to rest in the gutter.
He sucked in air, exhaling it with a ragged cough, surprise and fear finally catching up with him. Porter was fast, impossibly fast, and hit harder than Gideon.
He rolled over, onto his side, onto his knees, and scrambled to his feet. Each movement felt slow, way too slow, and he expected the stranger to be upon him at any moment. He spun wildly, looking for his opponent.
Porter was still standing next to his truck, his eyes watching him with dispassion.
Barnabas hadn't been ready, and it had cost him. Maybe he'd underestimated--
Before the thought could even complete itself Porter had crossed the distance between them. Barnabas struck out reflexively, swinging the bat at the flutter of movement. He felt a moment of savage hope when it connected, but the man's form seemed to melt away before his strength, turning what he was sure was a solid hit to a glancing blow. Porter followed its momentum to spin around Barnabas.
The jock found himself grappled from behind and hurled backwards, flipping head over heels into and through someone's bay windows.
He lay, stunned, bleeding from several small cuts onto a plush living room carpet. He was dimly aware of a woman screaming, and wished she'd shut up and give him a hand.
A shadow cast itself across him, and he made out Porter's bland features looming above him. The man crouched, reaching with dirty fingers for his face.
"No!" Barnabas screamed, terror breaking his daze.
He felt a momentary tingle, and then a rush of air as the carpet around his body burst into flames.
Porter drew back, but Barnabas grabbed the hem of his coat. "Burn you rotten bastard! Burn!"
He concentrated, clenching his muscles, and the very air surrounding him ignited.
His grip burnt through the man's coat and he lost sight of Porter through the flames, drawing satisfaction from the last vision of the man trying to shield h
is face with his hands.
***
Lily had been running towards the sounds of violence since her supernatural hearing had first picked them up, and was nearly blinded when the house ahead of her had erupted into flames. She skidded to a stop, recoiling from the sudden wave of heat, turning away from the fireball.
"Barny!"
He came stumbling out of the flames, naked and hairless, leaving singed footprints as he staggered across the lawn. He made it almost all the way to the sidewalk before collapsing.
She ran to his side, sliding in the grass beside him. "Barny! Are you okay?"
He rolled onto his back, coughing. Though unburnt, his body was red and swollen with what would probably become ugly bruises. "Did I get him? Porter?"
Lily looked up at the raging house fire. "Yeah. I think so."
A pained smile crossed Barny's split lips, and Lily could see that his teeth were bloody. "Good."
"Can you walk?"
"Nothing broken." He rolled to his side with a wince. "Far as I can tell."
She helped him to his feet. "What was he like?"
"Strong. Fast."
"Faster than I am?"
He shook his head. "In a different way. Can't explain it. He didn't move normally."
Lily looked back at the fire. "You did that?"
"He was killing me. What choice did I have?"
"I'm not judging you," she said. "I just hope that Mrs. Richards got out okay."
Barny didn't turn to look. "Yeah."
A dark shape leapt through the flames, scattering debris around itself. Lily watched with fascinated horror as Porter landed in a crouch on the lawn, then slowly stood.
"Fuck!" Barny yelled. "Run, Lily! Run!"
His terror lit a fuse within her and Lily grabbed Barny, gathered him up in her arms, and ran off down the street. His nudity didn't matter, the awkwardness of carrying him like a baby didn't matter. His weight felt like nothing in her arms, and fear lent wings to her stride.
"Shit! Duck! Shit!" Barny screamed, staring past her.
Instinctively she obeyed, ducking to the street and shielding him with her body. A great grinding and scraping came from behind as a late-model sedan hit the ground and skipped, barely clearing the top of her head. She chanced a glance backwards and saw Porter standing in the street, another sedan raised impossibly over his head.
"Go!" Barny shouted. "Go! Go!"
Lily ran to the side, the car smashing against the pavement where she'd been standing just a moment before. Her flight was panicked, terror driven by the inhuman killer behind her.
"Look out!" Barny yelled.
She hooked to the left around an old sycamore as something massive whizzed through the air past her. She rounded the corner of one of the houses lining the street.
There was an explosion behind her as Porter smashed through its living room, sending dagger-shaped wood fragments hurtling through the air.
"He's inhuman!" she screamed.
"Go!" Barny yelled.
Porter was suddenly in front of her, sawn-off shotgun in his hands.
Lily back-peddled and he fired.
Barny cried out in pain as his shoulder exploded into a mass of blood and tissue.
"Shit!" She held him tight and ran the other way, down the street.
"Left!" Barny yelled. "Go left!"
She turned, running up someone's -- Jessie's -- lawn.
"Jump!"
Again she obeyed, her speed and the strength of her legs carrying her through the second floor window into the hall. She stopped to get her bearings, and a moment later heard a crash from the floor below.
"Go!" Barny said, his voice weaker.
She had no idea how much blood he'd been losing, but felt its sticky warmth running down her back, felt his grip on her shoulders weakening.
Porter appeared at the second-floor landing but she was already running, moving past him to leap through the window at the other end of the hall. She landed, took two steps, and jumped again, sailing through the air.
When she was young and just starting track, she'd had dreams like this, running so fast she could escape the earth's pull.
Of course, in those dreams she wasn't carrying a naked bleeding boy and nobody was trying to kill her, but you couldn't have everything.
***
Lily didn't realize she was heading home until she saw her father's car in the driveway.
"I'm going to get you help," she said to the boy in her arms.
Barny didn't respond. She hoped he wasn't dead.
She ran in through the front door. "Dad!"
Her father wasn't in the living room.
She lay Barny down on the couch, carefully, gently, and ran into the kitchen. "Dad!"
She ran up the stairs and into the hall, calling for her father, gripped with fear that he'd been hurt, that he'd abandoned her.
He was waiting in his room, next to a half-packed suitcase.
"Dad!" she said. "I need your help! Barny's been shot!"
"Oh, darling," his eyes were red from weeping. He reached for his adopted daughter, but she backed away.
"He's bleeding!"
"There's nothing you can do, Lily. It's too late."
"No, he's not dead. Where's mom?"
He straightened and went back to his packing. "She's on her way to her mother's."
"Porter's after me," she said. "And Barny."
He stopped, staring at his precisely folded socks. "I know."
"How do we stop him?" she asked. "What do I do?"
He started folding again, faster, furiously.
She grabbed his arm. "Daddy!"
"Nothing!"
She recoiled from his anguished cry.
"Lily, there's nothing you can do. Nothing I can do. I can't help you."
She couldn't believe her ears. "Dad--"
His eyes red and wild, he turned to her, grasping handfuls of his hair.
She backed away -- he looked manic, crazy, scarcely like the man who raised her.
"It's too late!" He said. "I... did the best I could. I'm sorry. It's out of my hands now."
"No, Daddy, not you." She felt her heart break, felt tears in her eyes. I need you. You always know what to do, what to say, how to make things better."
"I'm sorry." His voice was but a whisper. "I'm sorry. It's over. Please go."
"I don't understand!"
Her father muttered something.
"What?"
He looked up at her, his eyes bloodshot, his voice dead. "It was a mistake. You were a mistake. Getting close was a mistake. Bill was right. We should have let them take all of you."
His words struck like poison needles, each one numbing her heart.
"Please go," he whispered. "I don't want to have to watch him kill you. Please go."
She backed away, her mind a chaotic echo of her father's words, walking with mechanical steps back down the stairs to the living room.
Just like that, she'd lost the last vestiges of her old life. The one foundation she'd had, the rock-solid belief that her father, that her parents loved her and would never ever abandon her had turned out to be a lie, just like everything else in her small town.
She had nothing. She was nothing. Maybe it would be better to let Porter kill her and end this joke of an existence.
A groan from the couch caught her attention. Barny was still out of it, still bleeding all over the pillow she'd embroidered with her mother back in grade school, the one that said Bless This Happy Home.
She couldn't give up. Maybe the Bakers' happy home was a lie, but it had been real while she'd lived it. It was a dream that was ending, but that didn't make the memories any less genuine. And now she had a new family, brothers and sisters who still needed her. Some of them didn't have those memories, had never even had the illusion of a happy healthy family life.
She didn't care what Deacon Baker said. You didn't abandon family.
She picked Barny up. He wasn't heavy.
&nbs
p; He was her brother.
CHAPTER FOUR
The further the pick-up drove from Laton, the better Gideon felt about having stolen it. It was the first time Gideon had ever boosted a car, but the fact that Chet Miller was a colossal prick helped soothe any lingering guilt he might have felt. The last of it was expunged when he remembered how the asshole had thrown his lunch across the cafeteria Freshman year as a declaration that they were no longer friends, that Chet had signed on with Barny's crew.
Delilah was sitting next to him in the cab, looking out towards town or at the dirt-bike they'd loaded into the back of the truck. He was responsible for her now. He'd always felt that way, of course, but now it really was just the two of them.
Did this count as kidnapping? They were both minors, but Delilah was three years younger than he was. He could be tried as an adult, and Texan juries took a dim view on men absconding with fourteen-year-old girls. He didn't know if "but I'm gay" would carry clemency with them, or just make things worse.
Of course, he could probably just literally walk out of jail, but he didn't want anyone thinking he was some kind of pervert child molester.
"Cops," Delilah said.
"So soon?" Gideon checked his mirror, spotting the alternating red and blue lights coming up the road behind them. "Maybe it's not about us."
Delilha turned in her seat to regard him over the bridge of her glasses. "Really? You honestly think that this isn't about us?"
"Shit." He stepped on the gas.
The truck accelerated, but it was no match for one of Laton's police cruisers. Gideon's eyes flicked back and forth between the road and the lights looking larger in his rear-view mirror.
***
To Lily's great relief, Barny did not die in her arms.
She made it all the way to the Hospital without seeing Porter. To keep this small advantage, she resisted her initial impulse to just smash in through the lobby windows and instead opted for the more stealthy "crush the lock in my bare hand" approach.
The building was strangely empty, bereft of doctors, nurses, patients, and even janitors. Maybe they'd been cleared out in anticipation of Porter's arrival. The idea that her father would bring such a destructive monster to Laton just to catch them, heedless of the damage he was causing, wasn't something Lily felt like dwelling on.
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