Legacy of Danger

by Jillian David

  "Um, I'm not sure we specifically have that."

  "Sure you do, Doc. Come on, don't hold out on me." A wobbly smile capped the comment. "Anything?"

  "Well, how about we start with a low-dose antidepressant, some counseling, and we meet again in a week?"

  "That's not a bad idea. It'll give me something to look forward to." She raised her hands when Mariah opened her mouth. "Kidding. Okay, not really."

  Mariah stepped out to send the prescription to the local pharmacy. Six p.m. Most staff had gone home. The day was almost done. Thank God.

  When she came back in the room, Izzy had her cell phone clutched to her ear, eyes wide. Her chest rose and fell rapidly.

  "Okay. Yeah, but is she—?" Izzy shoved her hair back off her face. "All right. I can check on her when I get home." She pursed her lips. "I know it's bad," she snapped into the phone. "That's all we can do." Ending the call, she rubbed her face. "Sorry."

  "Everything okay?"

  "No. Mom's not doing well."

  "Like you mentioned before? How her health is causing you stress?"

  "No. Now is different. Tommy said she's having trouble breathing and she's talking out of her mind."

  Mariah fingered the stethoscope around her neck. "Can he get her to the hospital? If not, call an ambulance. We'll run some more tests. The pneumonia could be back. Or she could be septic."

  "You know Mom. She refused to let the boys call 911. Tommy said she'd only see you, and she won't leave the house."

  "What?"

  "He's going to try to get her to go to the ER. If she shows up there, would you see her?"

  "Sure. I'll be here doing paperwork for another hour or so." Because no way did she want to go to her empty house alone. "If she comes in, I'll see her name pop up on the ER census." No way did Mariah want to make another house call out to the Brand ranch, either.

  Izzy rubbed her face. "I don't know if I can handle any more. If Mom dies... Oh, man. Worst of all, Mom's kind of a jerk at times. Must run in the family."

  "I don't know about that, Izzy. But, yes, if they can get her to the ER, I'll do what I can to help her."

  Izzy's eyes lit up, like this was the first piece of hope she'd heard in ages. "Deal." She sniffed. "I've got another few hours to work at the store tonight. Then I'll stop by the hospital. Hopefully she'll be here. Thank you." She tucked her worn jacket over an arm and exited the exam room.

  "Of course."

  A little over an hour later, Mariah's stomach rumbled. A few snacks from the break room hadn't made much of a dent in her hunger, and she stared at her desk computer. She sighed and updated the hospital's census. No Mrs. Brand registered or admitted to the ER yet. Mariah could just imagine the effort it would take to get that woman to the hospital.

  Finally, she traded her white coat for her wool one and headed for her car.

  Tossing her satchel into the front seat, she turned at the sound of a vehicle approaching. For a brief second, her heart leapt.

  Not an old ranch truck. Not Vaughn.

  The Brand family conversion van rattled to a stop. Mariah glanced in the window. Looked like Tommy at the wheel. He cracked open the passenger-side window.

  "Izzy said you might check on Mom."

  Not exactly. "In the ER."

  A jerk of his head in the shadows. "She won't go. Can you talk sense into her?"

  No depth to his words. Wooden. A chill worked through her. Something was off.

  Behind him, the silhouette of a figure.

  Crap. Mariah blew on her hands to warm them.

  Tommy motioned her to the side of the vehicle.

  Mariah pulled the door open and stepped up. The folded gate hit her at waist height.

  Tommy stared straight ahead. The car was still running.

  The figure in the chair turned. From the shadow of the vehicle, Wyatt lunged at Mariah and wrapped her in his meaty arms, muffling her scream. As he dragged her into the van, he kicked the door closed with his booted foot. "Go." It took no effort for him to keep her from moving.

  She worked her face out of his stuffy, stale shirt. "This is illegal!" she screamed, her heart pounding double time. Another time, with a vehicle screeching up to Mariah and Kevin as they ran over red-dusted roads, overlaid this scenario. Caught. Trapped. No. Not this time. She would fight. "Let me go! Stop it," Mariah commanded him as she twisted her head to look at him.

  A weird red glow came and went in Wyatt's eyes, like the guy was possessed. "Then you need to behave. If you get out of line, Doc, we're taking it out on Mom."

  "What?" Air came in and out of Mariah's mouth, but no other words followed. Her head spun. No way could she be in the middle of a kidnapping. This had to be a bad dream.

  Think. Come up with a plan. Play along or, or... placate them.

  "Fine, I'll cooperate. What's this about?" She craned her neck toward the front seat. "Tommy, you're the sheriff—what's the deal?" She held off on reminding them that they were committing a felony. Pretty sure all parties had clarity on that item, and if sworn law enforcement officials didn't care, then... Damn it.

  Tommy kept his hands planted on the wheel and head locked forward. It was like he was in a trance or something.

  Had Izzy known what her brothers were planning?

  Before she could sort through the possibilities, more waves of memories crashed over Mariah's mind, drowning her. That hot, confined plywood room. The men outside the door with guns. The image of her brother's swollen and bruised face after their first escape attempt.

  Bile burned its way up her throat, but she forced it back down and concentrated on staying calm. At least with her head turned, she wouldn't suffocate in the musty flannel of Wyatt's shirt. Man, could he try to bathe at least once a week?

  Could Vaughn pick up on her danger?

  What were the rules with his psychic power when he broke up with the object of his protection? Damn it. Tears stung.

  Quit it. Concentrate on coming up with options.

  Instead, she went numb, closed herself off from everything that was happening. It was like she floated separate from her body. She couldn't deal; she just went very, very still. Sounds and light faded in and out. All the activity detached, and she watched, like an audience member, while the bizarre events unfolded. She had little connection to the terror inside the car.

  After some length of time—a minute or forty, who knew?—dimly, as if the audience member rubbed her eyes and wondered if she had nodded off, Mariah focused on the sensations around her. She felt the rumble of the road change to what felt more like the chip-seal. Then another fifteen minutes later, Tommy steered the vehicle onto a bumpy road. Each rut and divot rammed the undercarriage of the van against her tailbone. As they traveled what she assumed was the Brand ranch access road, the air turned thick. Oppressive.

  Taking a breath took effort.

  A blanket of wrong wrapped around her. There might be some truth to Izzy's sensations here on the ranch.

  If Mariah concentrated hard enough she could convince herself that something terrifying lurked in the woods.

  Waiting.

  Something bigger. Darker. Worse than Tommy and Wyatt.

  Shadows flickered over the car windows, just like all those times she'd watched the tiny gap between door and casing in that awful room back in Utah. Flick. A shadow of her captor. Another flick, and he walked the other way. Breathing became difficult.

  The minivan rolled to a stop outside the main house. The Brand house. Numbness fled, chased by an ice-water splash of stark reality.

  Every instinct screamed at her to run and fight. Wyatt cranked down his vice-like, unfriendly hug until her ribs creaked.

  "Honey, we're home." Wyatt snickered as he pushed down the ramp and hauled Mariah out of the minivan. His grip on her upper arm squeezed hard enough that her hand went numb, even through the coat.

  She heard no other sounds besides the scrapes of feet and vehicle doors opening and closing. Gravel crunched under booted feet.


  Nothing else moved, not even a breeze through pine boughs.

  Wrong. This was so wrong.

  She dragged her feet and tripped, banging her knees on the porch boards. The last thing she wanted to do was enter this house.

  Wyatt yanked her up, wrenching her arm. "Won't you come in?"

  Chapter 35

  Exhausted from his attempts to physically exercise the stupid out of his body all day, Vaughn settled on taking a cold shower that evening. Maybe he could finish the purge by scouring the bad decision-making off of his skin. Then he'd figure out what to do about Mariah.

  What he had done to her went beyond wrong. He thunked his head against the tile and stayed in that position for several minutes, the chilly spray pinging off his back.

  He would crawl back to her, but that was no guarantee of success.

  First, though, he needed to check on Dad. Then he could confront his mistakes head on.

  After drying off, he pulled on clean clothes and went down to the kitchen. With Ruth and Odie hovering nearby, Dad leaned on his walker as he cooked a simple dinner. Vaughn didn't care if they called the activity "occupational therapy"—he called it a damned miracle.

  Zach, Garrison's son, flitted around them like a deranged hummingbird. The running monologue from the kid numbed Vaughn's brain.

  "Hi, Uncle Vaughn!" His nephew waved.

  Vaughn gave a half-hearted wave and surreptitiously studied Zach. No evidence of strange behavior. Maybe Garrison would get his wish and the development of an ability would skip a generation.

  "Where's your dad?" He tousled Zach's dark red hair.

  "In the living room, reading with Ms. Lopez."

  If Sara had returned, then Garrison must have eaten a bucketful of crow.

  Vaughn could take some lessons.

  "Hi, son." One side of his dad's mouth didn't move, so the smile came out crooked, but happiness glowed in his watery blue eyes. Vaughn wanted to hug him but didn't want to break his dad's concentration.

  "How's it going?"

  Dad clanked a plate. "Pretty good." His voice came out slurred but understandable. Improved, even, over the past few days. Amazing.

  "I'll say. He's doing great." Odie waggled his brows. "We'll have him cooking proper gumbo soon. I don't know how you people can live without okra here at the end of the Earth."

  Vaughn squeezed his dad's shoulder. "Way to go. Dinner smells great."

  "It's because I'm helping!" Zach reminded him.

  "Sssecret ingredient." Dad pointed a spatula toward his grandson.

  "What's the time for dinner?" Vaughn asked, unwilling to examine the knot that had formed in his throat.

  Ruth leaned a hip against the counter but kept his dad in her line of sight. "Soon. Around seven, give or take. Your brothers and sister are waiting for you in the living room."

  Family meeting. Great. Just what he didn't want.

  "Shouldn't you go as well, chérie?" Odie asked.

  "Shush," she said.

  Yes, why would Ruth want to attend a family meeting? "Do you have something to add regarding the creature we're up against?" Vaughn asked.

  She flicked a glance at Odie and shook her head. "As I mentioned yesterday, we've heard stories over the years."

  "Stories?"

  "People experiencing... similar things as you have described."

  Now if that wasn't an evasive answer. "If you know anything that might help..."

  "I'll be along in a few minutes," she mumbled.

  With no energy left to crack the enigma that was Ruth, Vaughn turned and headed to the living room.

  Shelby sat in the recliner, her feet up. An elastic bandage wound over her lower leg and around the metal posts that joined a vertical rod holding her fractured leg together. God, what she'd gone through. If only he'd gotten there sooner.

  Eric hovered next to the chair, arms crossed over his chest like some oversized bouncer.

  Garrison sat on the couch next to Sara. When she made a move to get up, he asked her to stay. Guess she was part of the family now. Whatever spat those two had was long forgotten, given the sappy expressions they shot each other.

  And then there was Kerr, perched in the reading chair, back straight, staring into space like his nightmares danced right in front of him.

  Vaughn tucked himself next to the other end of the fireplace mantel and settled in for an unpleasant evening.

  "Thought we weren't supposed to be in the same place at the same time?" Vaughn muttered.

  Shelby nodded. "We're leaving as soon as our family conference is done."

  Garrison raised his hand. "Here's the deal."

  Way to command the stage.

  His brother rubbed his jaw. "We have crazy neighbors who are clearly becoming more unstable. Hank Brand tried to kill members of our family, and has since gone missing. No one has any leads where he went." His jaw muscle jumped until Sara twined her fingers with his. "Wyatt Brand then stepped up to fill the shoes Hank left behind. And creepy cousin Linc who, from Vaughn's description, is as nutty as the rest of them, dangerous, and a loose cannon to boot, may be part of the mix."

  "And what about that creature out there?" Vaughn asked.

  "That, too. What's worked against that thing thus far?" Garrison asked.

  "We're having a meeting about how to beat it, so obviously nothing has worked yet." Vaughn's nerves prickled. His power reached out beyond the ranch, searching. Like it wanted to draw his attention. Not this time. He'd had enough of his damned power altering his brain waves.

  "Garrison and I yelled at it and it went away," Shelby offered. "Then when it tried to kill Eric, I somehow turned my ability into a heat shield and held it off."

  "But you almost died," Eric growled.

  Vaughn rubbed a palm against his chin. "Garrison shot it. And I pushed that thing away when my power shifted. Not sure if I have another gear, but I'm willing to try." Vaughn flinched like he'd been slapped by an invisible hand. "Damn it."

  "What?" Kerr asked.

  "No idea. Weird," he said, rubbing his cheek. "Must be because I'm tired." He rolled his neck, an ache in his head increasing.

  "So what, then? We have a black blob that wants to kill us." Garrison shook his head. "Anywhere else, that would be ridiculous, but in our world, when added to the neighbors who are sabotaging us, that thing really becomes the cherry on top of a shit sundae." He put his arm around Sara, tucking her in closer to him.

  "Shouldn't we focus on the neighbors?" Kerr asked.

  "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" Garrison snapped. "A certain neighbor, maybe?"

  Kerr flushed red, then lifted his hands. "Bro. Easy, there. Throwing stones in glass houses and crap like that."

  "Come on, guys, back off." Shelby pinched the bridge of her nose while Eric glowered at all of them. "My filter is still not 100 percent. I can't stop all the emotions smacking into me."

  "Sorry," they mumbled.

  "Son of a bitch," Garrison cursed. "So what do we do with that fire-breathing cloud monster that wants to destroy all of us?"

  Silence.

  "You either stand together and take the risk of failure or success. Or try to survive, but remain apart." Ruth stood at the doorway to the living room. Her face appeared sculpted from stone. Odie hovered behind her shoulder.

  "Speak clearly," Garrison snapped.

  "The thing wants the four of you together." Her eyes seemed to sink into her head, giving her a tired, haunted expression. "I've... heard of such things before."

  Vaughn studied her poker face until her gaze wavered. First time the façade had cracked. "You've more than heard of these things, haven't you?" A twinge flitted across his temple. Damn it.

  She blinked. "Doesn't matter. What matters is that you must be at your strongest and in control of your powers when you confront that thing. That time isn't now. Not yet."

  Garrison whipped his head around. "How do you know details about our powers?"

  "Truly, I don't know all th
at you are able to do," Ruth said. "But I'm convinced that if you pool your gifts, when the time is right, you can destroy the creature."

  "If we can't?" Shelby asked.

  "Your destruction will provide the foundation, the fuel, for something truly evil."

  Kerr rubbed his leg. "Well, that's super good news."

  "Until you are all strong enough," she flicked her eyes to Shelby, "you need to stay separate. That thing will wait to attack when you're all together."

  Garrison glared at her. "Seriously, I'm done with the oracle act. Spill." He thunked a fist on his palm. "I've had enough. You're not leaving until you explain how you know these things."

  Silence. The wind blew. A shutter creaked.

  No one exhaled.

  Ruth and Odie could have been carved in marble, so still did they stand.

  She bit her lip and glanced at Odie. "We are very old."

  "Like in your forties?" Kerr quipped.

  No one laughed.

  Ruth swallowed. "I'm actually your great-great many times great-grandmother."

  "—the fuck?" Vaughn said.

  Everyone started talking at once.

  Garrison barked, "Wait a minute. Hold on. Just hold on." He stared at Ruth.

  "Don't, Gar. You promised," Shelby breathed.

  He stood and faced Ruth across the room. His hands rolled into fists as he stared at her.

  Odie stepped in front of his wife. "Don't what?"

  With a hoarse cry, Ruth rubbed her temples.

  "Quit it, my friend." Odie physically held up his wife for a solid twenty seconds.

  Garrison winced. "It's done." Tight lines formed next to his grim mouth. "I don't know how it's true, but she's not lying."

  "You would doubt her?" The Cajun didn't let go.

  "He needed to do it," Ruth murmured, no longer sagging against her husband. "You know it's true. We're hundreds of years old."

  No reason to doubt it. Lie-detecting brother had checked.

  "Distant relative, why are you here? And how is it possible for you to be this old?" Garrison asked.

  A weird echo, like a scream in the distance, made Vaughn wince and whip his head to the side. He checked the room. No one else appeared to hear anything. He rubbed his temples again to try to sweep away the growing headache. The back of his head prickled. Was his power activating? Shit. Why? He tried to relax by taking a few slow breaths.