Ula (Born of Shadows Book 1)

by J. R. Erickson

  “Listen,” he spoke loudly, his drunkenness becoming obvious again. “Tit for tat, no apologies here.”

  She nodded and almost stopped him when he poured another shot, gulping it immediately.

  “Do you want to go swimming?”

  “That’s your question?” she asked.

  “Yes, there’s nothing that squelches thought like the weight of the sea.”

  She turned toward the lake, remembering night swims with Sydney. Wading out into the dark water, blind to the creatures swimming beneath the surface. She even swam a few times in the lake alone, stripping her bikini off in the water and drifting lazily, her tight skin exposed to the moon.

  “That looks like a yes,” he said excitedly, standing.

  “Wait.” She held up a hand. “Are you sure you’re fine to swim?”

  He laughed, grabbed the bottle and took another long drink.

  “Better than fine.”

  He jumped off the porch and raced across the yard. She watched him fling off his shirt and shorts as he ran, splashing into the water in his boxers.

  She ran inside and up the stairs, ripping off Sydney’s dress and leaving it in a heap on the floor. Feeling like a kid again, she pulled on a black and white polka dot one-piece and sprinted back outside. She did not hesitate or second-guess herself as she dashed into the water. He was a bit further out, but swam towards her, kicking giant splashes that rained over her head. She squealed and splashed him back, cupping her hands and catapulting water bombs that mostly fell short of his laughing face.

  He lay on his back and scissored a plume of water towards her, which she dodged, diving below the surface. Every muscle and fiber of her body surged with energy, and she played. Played in a way that she had never done, even as a child under the apprehensive eyes of her mother.

  She belly flopped next to him, sending a wave of water cascading over his dark curls. He ran to the beach and down Sydney’s dock, flying off the end into a loose cannon ball. She grinned and followed suit, her cannonball making a much smaller dent in the shiny water. Back and forth they went, swan dives, back smackers, Sebastian even did a front flip. For a while, every other thought, memory and pain was forced beneath the water and held there, gone from sight and mind.

  The faint echo of the telephone called from the house, but they both ignored it, continuing their reckless excursion.

  “Race ya,” he screamed and began a ferocious freestyle deep into the lake.

  Abby, always a strong swimmer, kept pace, a much faster pace than even she was used to. Apparently all those boring days in the office hadn't killed her aerobic capacity after all. She felt her lungs straining, but she thrust forward, her thighs and shoulders burning. He finally stopped, paddling in place and they both leaned back in the water, waving their arms in circles as they stared at the tinsel flecked sky. Abby could feel the ripples of water that his body made, hear the rapid, shallow breaths as his heart-rate returned to normal. The Tequila buzz continued, but the cool water had blurred its edge.

  “And back,” he yelled, startling her as he drove himself toward the shore in a floppy butterfly swim that reminded her of a drowning seagull.

  Rather than follow, Abby watched. She saw Sebastian climb onto the dock, backing up to gain running speed. She trod water, loving the smooth glide as her legs scissored beneath her. She bobbed below the surface and opened her eyes. The moon streamed into the water like light bullets, casting streaks of shining green on her legs and torso. She dived deeper, then deeper still, until she must have swum fifteen feet straight down. She reached the sandy bottom, beyond the moon's probing fluorescent fingers, but strangely, she could still see. Thick vines of seaweed grew towards the nighttime sun, their bodies shifting as she displaced the water around them. As she swam, her vision became more and more clear, her eyes seeking out small fish further into the lake and opalescent shells smothered by tiny white zebra muscles.

  Not out of breath, though she should have been, she kicked off the lake floor and shot toward the surface. She felt a vicious pull on her head and was raked from the water, a hand thrust deep into her hair.

  Panic seized her.

  “Ouch! Stop! Ow!” she screamed, beating at her captor.

  For a moment, the struggle ensued, Abby clawing at her attacker while trying to swim away.

  “Relax! Stop, you’re panicking!” Sebastian screamed in her ear, pulling his hand free of her hair and forcing it under her armpit and across her chest.

  “I am not panicking,” she spat, prying his arm loose.

  She swam into chest deep water and turned to face him.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?” Her head ached where he had pulled her hair.

  “I’m sorry,” he sputtered, looking confused as he moved towards her in the water. “You were under for so long. I thought you were drowning.”

  His normally tan face glowed sickly white, and Abby could see the fear draining from his features. She had been beneath the water a long time, but it couldn’t have been too long. She was still alive, after all. The shock had sobered them both, and she rubbed the heels of her hands into her eyes, fuzzy from opening them beneath the water.

  “I’m sorry.” She shook her head and reached up gingerly to the soft spot on her scalp. “I was under a long time.”

  “I didn’t mean to hurt you.” He gestured toward her head. “I freaked out.”

  He waded toward her and together they walked to the beach, collapsing on the sand. They lay side by side, allowing their breath to slow. She felt the heat of his arm pressed against her own.

  He rolled on his side. “How did you do that?”

  His body blocked the moonlight, and she could only see the shadow of his features. She wondered if he was still upset.

  “I’m not sure,” she told him, perplexed. “I just had a lot of air, I guess.”

  He did not speak, chewing silently on her uncertain answer. Abby knew that the moment had vanished, and their carefree feelings were as lost as the sand she absently cupped in her fingers.

  “Abby, that seemed impossible.” He spoke slowly, placing his words carefully, and she got the feeling that he was waiting for a disclosure.

  “Well, it was obviously not impossible,” she said hotly. Then, apologetic, “I mean, I did it. I’m not like a sea monster or anything.”

  Though she suddenly felt like one, as if Sebastian’s image of her had changed in the last several minutes.

  “Listen, I’m not trying to make you feel bad,” he soothed, tugging her arm until she sat up. “It shocked me, is all.”

  She sat on the sand facing him, the water massaging their feet and calves. The worry lines had disappeared from his face, and he smiled sheepishly.

  “Forgive me?” he asked.

  She nodded and ran a hand through her hair, fingering the knots free. He reached up and took it, pressing his cold lips against the thin flesh of her knuckles.

  His lips were hot, and she shivered, closing her eyes as warm shoots rippled through the rest of her body.

  “I’m beat,” he said suddenly, struggling to his feet and swiping the sand from his boxers.

  She started to argue with him. She hated to see the night end, and they hadn’t even talked about Devin, but she stopped, seeing the drawn look on his face. She had scared him badly.

  They cleaned the patio table in silence, both eating a final taco to absorb the Tequila and saying a quick goodnight.

  In bed, she watched the shadows twist across the ceiling. Her body felt overheated, and she tossed, pushing the blankets off, then pulling them up, only to shove them off again. The alcohol, the conversation and the swim had jazzed her up. She wanted to talk about Devin or go for a walk or run in circles until she collapsed, exhausted. But she also felt the need to rein herself in. His lips left a burned imprint on her body, and she wanted to press all of her against him. A ridiculous notion considering she’d been apart from Nick for barely a few days. Still, the body wanted what
it wanted, and her mind had little say in the matter.

  She slipped off the bed and padded to the window, watching the moonlit lake. The dark tree line beckoned to her, and she considered returning to the forest. She had never been especially frightened of the woods at night, but had not exactly frolicked through them. She could imagine making her way along the shadows of the road, knowing that she’d found the right spot when the yellow tape appeared streaming from the trees. She could find her path back in, her feet moving slowly over the brittle twigs, holding her arms out so that she didn’t twist an ankle. And then what? She didn’t know, probably get so frightened that she would run screaming back to Sydney’s and dive under the covers like a child.

  She pushed her face close to the glass, sensing movement before she saw it. A figure moved across the backyard, staying near the forest line, but sliding closer to the water's edge. She squinted at the shape of the dark hood pressed over his head. As she watched, the head turned. She dived to the floor, but knew that whoever it was had seen her. Was it Sebastian out for a stroll? A wandering tourist? Or someone much more sinister? Devin’s killer, whoever he or she was, had not been found or even identified. Perhaps he was killing off witnesses. She crawled to the door and stood up, pressing her back along the wall, out of view of the large bay window. Moving slowly down the stairs, her limbs locked in fear, she cursed herself for not having locked the doors and windows before bed. At any moment, she might hear the kitchen door creak open, and soft steps on the tile floor.

  She could see the faint glow of the television in the living room. She peeked in, hoping to alert Sebastian, but the couch was empty. Of course, it was only Sebastian. He must have been as revved up as she and had taken a walk.

  At the front door, she pressed a palm against the cherry wood, feeling the smothered splinters beneath the lacquer finish. She longed for his return, imagined him opening the door at that exact moment, their eyes fiercely connecting beneath the breath of air between them and then instantly felt terrified at the thought.

  As she stood at the door, ridiculing her troubled longings, Abby did not sense the hooded figure standing behind it.

  He felt her, though, smelled her, and could – almost - taste her beneath the bitter polyurethane and seedy lake air. For several seconds, they stood that way, only a pane of wood apart.

  A toilet flushed, and Abby panicked. Sebastian was not outside. She ran, muffling each footfall. On the stairs, she crawled, grimacing when the third stair groaned beneath her. She heard the bathroom door click as if he also wanted to be quiet. Had he heard her? At the top of the stairway, she waited, listening to his naked feet on the floor and the hushed groan as he settled onto the couch.

  Abby did not remember the cloaked figure until she climbed into Sydney's bed, flicking off the bedside lamp. As darkness fell, the image rose in her mind and she sat up, the blankets clenched in her fist. Across the room, pale shafts of moonlight leached in, haunting the shadows. Her mind returned to the grocery store and the man behind the freezer.

  “It was nothing,” she whispered to herself, twice and then three times until she was sure that it really had been nothing; a tree, a bush, a trick of moonlight, all totally plausible culprits.

  Chapter 9

  Abby, too tired to stand, pulled a stool over to the counter and made coffee, sitting. Her night had been a restless one, tormented by dreams of Devin lost in a forest of bleeding trees. Twice she woke to the black room, convinced that someone stood nearby, watching her. When dawn finally made an appearance, Abby edged off the bed, happy to face the day with the night behind her.

  The coffee pot sputtered and whined as it neared its finish. Abby filled two enormous mugs and carried them to the living room, where Sebastian stirred.

  “Morning,” he yawned, struggling to sit up. He took his mug and eyed the contents warily. “No cream or sugar? I need to see the manager.”

  “Send him a letter,” Abby mumbled, choking down her own scalding coffee and leaning into the couch. Her head swam with images from her dreams.

  “Long night?”

  “To say the least. You?”

  “I slept like a fat cat.” He brushed a hand through his hair. It got stuck and he frowned, exasperated. “I guess it’s shower time.”

  “Good idea,” she told him, fumbling the remote from the coffee table and switching it on.

  Sebastian heaved off the couch and disappeared into the bathroom. She flipped idly through the channels, searching for news. Amazing how perky the QVC women seemed, selling “absolutely authentic, and did I mention, real mother of pearl earrings,” at eight o’clock in the morning.

  Abby found the morning news. Weather looked good, sunny and mid-eighties, which meant another bad hair day for Abby. She lifted a hand to her head and felt the frizz already forming at the mention of humidity. She would have to hit the shower after Sebastian.

  Beneath commercials for fancy cat food in crystal bowls and hair implants for men, Abby could hear Sebastian doing a bad rendition of Bad to the Bone.

  “Buh, buh, buh, bad to the bone,” he crooned, and Abby turned up the volume.

  The local news started, and a grim-faced reporter announced that Trager Police had arrested a suspect in the homicide of local woman Devin Blake, previously Devin Kent.

  In the bathroom, the shower spray slowed and then died.

  “Authorities have not released a motive; however, Police Chief Caplan identified the suspect as the victim’s own brother, Danny Kent.”

  “Holy shit, Sebastian, look at this!” Abby called, plopping to her knees near the screen.

  Sebastian hurried in, a towel draped around his waist and his wet curls leaking over his shoulders. Abby paused, caught off guard, and then pointed at the television.

  “Look.”

  The camera changed to an image of Chief Caplan at a press conference outside the precinct. In the background, Abby saw Tina, her face smug and unsmiling, and the strange insect-like detective from their previous visit to the police station. He stood near the building, his dark eyes trained on the camera as if they saw through it.

  “He’s creepy,” Abby said. “That detective.”

  Sebastian didn’t speak, but when Abby glanced up at him, his face was hard and unsmiling.

  “Hey, are you okay?” she asked, distracted by his tight jaw and fists, opening and closing, at his sides.

  “It wasn’t him,” Sebastian said gruffly, walking closer to the television.

  “Who? Danny, her brother? How do you know?”

  “We have to go to the woods.”

  “What woods? The woods?”

  “Yes, get dressed.”

  Sebastian left without another wood, slamming the bathroom door behind him. Abby sat for another minute, dumbfounded and watching the TV as the report changed to a local bookstore facing bankruptcy. She didn’t understand.

  She stopped outside the bathroom door, tempted to knock, but decided to humor him. In Sydney’s bedroom, she slipped into red jogging pants and a black athletic tank, pulling her hair into a ponytail.

  Downstairs, Sebastian stood by the door. He looked impatient, his eyes darting toward the television, which now blared a commercial about 'Blast Off', a great new energy drink that provided men with that extra oomph to “go all night long.” Abby started to crack a joke about erectile dysfunction, but stopped at Sebastian’s deepening frown.

  They took the beach, but walking on the sand was slow and frustrating. Abby wanted to ask questions, but Sebastian only offered curt replies and seemed lost in his thoughts.

  Summer tourists clogged the lake. Abby watched a brightly colored Baja bounce by, tossed on the climbing waves. Several bikini clad girls sat dangerously on the motor lid, screaming with each swell. Abby stared at them for a moment longer, transfixed with horror. Her mother had once slapped her for sitting on that wide platform at the rear of Sydney’s boat. “You’ll get chopped in the motor,” she said, wiping her red hand on her yellow shorts as
if Abby’s skin had rubbed off.

  “I think this is it.” Sebastian stopped at a dense thicket of woods. No trail led from the beach in, but Abby knew that he was right. The curve of the beach matched the curve of the road on the other side of the woods, and they were pretty closely aligned with the murder site.

  “Are you sure about this?” Abby asked, suddenly scared.

  “Completely.”

  Sebastian started into the woods. Despite the heat, he’d worn long sleeves. He held up his forearms to block the scratching branches, careful to hold them aside so that they didn’t fling back and hit Abby in the face. Twigs cracked loudly beneath them, and ferns crunched underfoot, but the dense brush muffled the noise, and Abby knew that it sounded louder in her own mind than it actually was.

  A quarter mile in, Sebastian stopped.

  “Shhh,” he whispered and shot an arm out to block Abby from going further.

  Voices, still a few yards ahead, drifted back to them.

  Sebastian gripped Abby’s forearm as they moved forward, stopping again when the voices grew louder.

  “Do you think he did it?” a man asked.

  “The Chief doesn’t mess up.” Abby recognized Tina, her tone defensive.

  “Ahh, come on, Bridge, just cause you’re layin' the old man doesn’t mean he ain’t made a few mistakes,” said a different male voice, this one much deeper.

  A radio crackled loudly, but Abby could not make out the words.

  “Fuck you, Kinsey,” Tina snapped.

  “Really, though,” the first man said again. “What are we doing out here if they’ve already got Kent in jail?”

  “Seems to me, the Chief’s got nothing to do with Kent being in jail. That Detective Alva’s runnin' the show around here,” Kinsey replied. He spat loudly, and Tina cursed at him.

  Sebastian tilted his head toward the voices, and they moved closer, concealed behind a wall of vines that had brought several trees sloping to accommodate them. Abby looked down, surprised to see that she had been digging her fingernails into the palm of her hand. She released her hold, and tiny moon-shaped welts creased the flesh.