“I can’t believe she’s my sister,” Val said. “She’s soulless.”
“What’d you fight about?”
“Same stuff.”
“You can’t change what’s happened. Stop chasing the past.”
Val could hold a grudge until it reached epic proportions. To be honest with you, I don’t think I’d let go of this one either.
She sniffed. “Guess you’re right.”
“Of course I’m right. I’m always right. It’s part of the awesomeness that’s me.” I got up from the bed and pulled her with me. “Wash your face. You’re a mess. And you got snot on my shirt. Gross.”
“Thanks, Nat.”
“I wish I was better at helping.”
“You do just fine.” She snagged a tissue from the dresser and went into the bathroom.
“Same rules,” I said. “No hogging the covers and stay on your side of the bed. I don’t need you thumping me in the stomach while you flail around.” Val had a tendency to sprawl into the middle of the bed and I was shoved to one side, teetertottering on the edge. Not my idea of a restful night’s sleep.
I know what you’re thinking, but you’re wrong. Yes, Val and I sometimes slept in the same bed. And, no, there’s nothing sexual between us. She likes guys, a lot, and she’s straight as a ruler. Me, I like guys too, but my insanity prevents me from having normal relationships.
Val peeked her head out of the doorway. She raised her right hand and held up three fingers so they resembled a W, then turned them to the side to form an E. The international symbol for whatever. I rolled my eyes, put on my pajamas, and limped back to the bed.
She’d stopped crying, thank God. I never know what to do when people are crying.
She slid under the covers.
“Nat?”
“Hmm?”
“A while back, you said to me that I never ask for help. The thing is, it’s like you know, so I don’t have to. You’re just there for me. And you’re really good at being there for me, whether you know it or not.” She scooted to my side and hugged me. “Love you.”
“Right back at ya. Now, go back on your side. We both need to get some sleep.” I knew I’d never be able to move her unless she wanted to be moved. She was just as stubborn as me and a hell of a lot stronger. “Come on! Move over!”
“Man, you’re cranky. No fun at all.”
“Never said I was. Now shove over. Hey! Stop hogging the covers!”
Val snorted, followed by a good, cleansing laugh. I smiled and pulled the quilt back over me.
I’d share Walter’s epiphanies in the morning.
Did you ever see It’s The Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown? The scene where all the kids are out trick or treating and then they compare the hauls they got? One kid says, “I got five pieces of candy.” Another says, “I got a chocolate bar.” “I got a quarter,” says another. Then Charlie Brown looks in his sack and says, “I got a rock.”
Today was going to be a rock day.
“What’s on your agenda?” Val was working on her second bowl of cereal.
“Why, is it ‘Take a Cripple to Work Day’?”
“Ha ha. Very funny.”
“I need to bounce a few things off you.”
“Lay it on me.”
“I met with Walter Young yesterday.”
Words are not Val’s natural enemies, but these seemed stuck in her throat. She took several deep breaths, releasing each with a measured discipline.
“I met him in a public place and he’s the only one that’s been helpful. He gave me some books. Have you found anything on the World Wide Waste of Time?” I said.
“Nothing useful.” She looked downright sour about it too. “You’re right, we’ll have to go old school. What did he tell you?”
“I want you to promise not to flip out,” I said.
“Must be something big.” She pointed at me spinning my cane.
“Walter said that he went to college with our parents.”
“It’s a big campus. It’s possible.”
“He also said that your mom dated my father.”
“Bullshit!” So much for the promise not to flip out—oh wait, she hadn’t actually promised. She was towering over her cereal. “Mom would never date a freak like that! After everything she’s done for you, you’d believe that?” She was breathing hard now. “We took you in when—she’s your mother, for God’s sake!”
“She’s not,” I said. “If she were, I wouldn’t be so screwed up. And I never asked your parents for anything. I ran away and they always found me.”
Her words were hot enough to melt sand into glass. “Like it was so hard to find a cripple sitting at the bus station.”
I stared at the floor, waiting for the sting of her remarks to subside. She was right—Mrs. G would never date outside of her species, but something wasn’t tracking.
Some of her anger disintegrated as she wiped the spittle from her lips.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. Your parents are saints. My lineage is sociopaths and murderers.”
“Why don’t you just ask her?”
“I did and she said she knew him from the PTA.”
“See? End of story.”
“Your mom had a life before you,” I said.
“Mom doesn’t lie.”
“You should get your eyes checked.”
“Excuse me?”
Nomadic feelings of impatience and anger found a home.
“Your whole family has selective blindness, your mom for Tina and you for your mom.”
“You have no idea what you’re talking about. This whole situation has skewed your reality.”
“Well, when you’re right, you’re right.” I glared. “What would I know about moms and dads and their secret lives?”
“I didn’t mean—”
“Let’s get this out into the open—and hey, Tina’s already laid all the groundwork for me. I stole your childhood. If I wasn’t around, your life would have been fantastic, you wouldn’t have dated every loser in the world, and you certainly wouldn’t have picked up the bottle. Your life’s been a hamster wheel of chaos because of me. Does that about sum it up?”
She leaned closer, her breathing erratic. I stood up, dropped my cane, and raised my arms to my sides.
“Take your best shot. I know you want to,” I said.
In the world of dumbass moves, this was by far the stupidest thing I’d ever done. She could kill me with one blow.
She rose, fists clenched but firmly at her sides.
“Stop trying to push me away. Walter’s just trying to stir up a shitstorm.”
“Whatever.” I gathered my gear and headed for the door.
“Where are you going?” Val said.
“To find out for myself.”
She got in between me and the door. Her words were achingly direct, painful with the truth she believed.
“Mom would never date someone like your father.”
“See you later.”
She wasn’t budging. The text message alert sounded on her cell phone. She reached for it and I took advantage of the opening.
“Karl got the number.”
I stopped mid-limp. “Really?”
“Yeah. He’s sorry it took so long.” Val’s demeanor softened. “Can we put aside what just happened?”
Our exchange had created new chasms that went beyond those already residing within me—or maybe it just brought them to light.
“We’ve got no other choice,” I said. “Let’s do this.”
All the supplies were packed in the back of my truck, double and triple checked—had been for days. Nothing left to do but call my father and set up a meeting.
Val and I stood in my kitchen—I had the phone in one hand and the number Karl got for us in the other, waiting to be dialed.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” I said.
“A thousand times, yes. Make the call. Say what we rehearsed. Short and to the point. Don�
�t let him get in your head.”
“Too late.”
She thumped me on the shoulder. “You can do this.”
I gathered some fake courage and hit the buttons.
One ring, two rings …
“He’s not—”
“Hello, Natalie,” my father said.
My hand tightened around the phone. My voice was constricted by bile.
“Natalie?”
Val nudged me.
“I’ve got your pages.”
“Good, I—”
“I’ll meet you at the Webster building at ten o’clock.” My rivers of sweat threatened to short out the phone. “You know where that is?”
“Looking forward to it,” my father said. “You’ve—”
I hung up and tried to continue breathing.
“Well?” Val said.
“We’re on.”
The industrial park in Fairfield had long been abandoned due to hard economic times. The only occupants of the buildings were the For Sale/Lease signs and the flora and fauna. All that was missing were some tumbleweeds ambling down the block.
We pulled into the lot behind the factory by the truck bays. Wooden pallets littered the area.
My father was standing by a minivan, its side door open, with two Goths inside, one outside. So much for the element of surprise.
We got out and stood in front of the truck.
“Natalie, come with me and Valerie won’t get hurt,” he said.
When your brain detects a potential threat, it narrows your field of attention. I dropped my cane, reached for my pistol, flipped the safety off, and leveled it at my father’s head. I pulled the trigger twice in a smooth motion, just like Lieutenant Guerrero taught me.
The silent Goth from the cemetery dove in front of my father like a Secret Service agent protecting the president.
My father said, “I didn’t think you had it in you, Natalie.”
“Come on!” Val went into warrior mode a nanosecond too late.
WHAM! Two Goths flew at us from a truck bay, knocking us to the ground. Their touch went through me like a cool burn. The gun flew out of my hand and skittered away beneath some pallets.
Val was already on her feet, pushing one attacker away, keeping a watchful eye on the others.
“Why do you have to be so difficult?” my father said.
The Goth standing over me said, “Your minder’s pretty good.”
“My what?”
“Your Protector,” he said as more of his English accent came out. My father outsourced his muscle.
Chatty was Val’s opponent. Blows were exchanged. He pulled a curved blade from under his cloak. Val was fast but didn’t escape the slice across her forearm. Blood eased its way from the slash in her sleeve.
He held the knife like it was show and tell. “I took this from the last Protector I bested.”
“I’ll be sure to return it to her when I’m done,” Val said.
My father’s position didn’t change. He looked bored as two Goths guarded him. Jeeves, my new friend, wasn’t paying much attention—guess he didn’t think I was much of a threat. I slammed the heel of my hand into his pelvic bone. His eyes flew open in a shock of pain as he doubled over. I took advantage of his dumbfounded state and drew both hands back and thumped them over his unprotected ears. His scream wasn’t deafening, more of a squeak. The self-defense stuff Val taught me really worked!
I leveraged myself up with the aid of the truck’s side mirror and stumbled to the mixed martial arts bout.
“So nice of you to join us,” Chatty said. He and his knife made a wide arc in my unsteady direction. Being the Rhodes Scholar that I am, I tried to block it with my hand. The blade sliced across my palm.
“Bastard!” With inhuman velocity Val slammed her fist into Chatty’s face. She relieved him of the knife and held it in a reverse grip: blade down, cutting edge out. A fine green spray hit the air as she slashed his throat. She dropped the knife as she took him to the ground and smashed his head into the asphalt in quick succession.
And Chatty lay silent.
My father sighed. “Good ghouls are hard to find.” He turned to one of his guards. “Take care of this.”
“Val, look out!”
She spun to a standing position as Goth #4 rushed toward her. Val faked right, then left, then swung right around him and used the truck’s bumper as a springboard. He followed her energy trail as she launched into the air, floating like a butterfly for the briefest of moments. She stung with the vehemence of an F-22 Raptor fighter plane.
The combination of punches and kicks came with the speed of light. Technique and muscular strength combined with kinetic energy blasted through her assault and Goth #4 lay on the ground, rolling and moaning.
Val came to my side. If we stood any closer we’d be one.
“You really are much stronger than I remembered.” He had the nerve to beam like a proud parent. “I knew I was right to come back.”
“You’re insane,” Val said.
“You cannot deny the Dragon Slayer.” My father turned to the sole occupant of the van. “Your turn, Jim.”
The last Goth edged out of the van and up to Val and me, looking reluctant. He hesitated as if something pushed him back. He tried again with the same negative response. Jim did a quick jog to my father and whispered something.
“That can’t be,” my father said. “She’s a mixed breed.”
My gun had taken refuge twenty feet away. The only weapons we had were Val and the knife. Val was more dangerous. She pushed me behind her, and readied her fighting stance.
My father and the Goth walked over. My father held his hand out. Val and I tensed. Like the Goth, he was driven back. He glanced at Jim, who nodded.
My father looked at me and tried again.
“Interesting …” You’d think he’d forgotten us entirely. He prodded the air in front of us, his expression intent. “Jim, claim your friends. I’ll see you soon, Natalie.”
Green, gooey discharge oozed from the wounds of the lifeless Goths as Jim piled them into the van. They drove away, slow and easy, presumably so as not to attract any attention—though from whom, I don’t know. If there were any cops around, they hadn’t bothered to put their donuts down long enough to investigate two shots fired.
“You okay?” Val scanned the area, picked up the empty shell casings and the knife.
“I think so.” I went to my cane, dropped to the ground and fished my pistol out from under some pallets.
Val opened the door for me. “We need to get out of here.”
Once under way, I clamped my hands around the worn softness of her jacket sleeve to slow the bleeding from the cut on her forearm.
Have you ever gotten zapped by a low voltage of electricity? A dose that’s just enough to make you respect the source? That’s what it felt like was zipping through my body and ending in my hands.
“You okay?” Val said.
“You just asked me that.”
Wait. We weren’t in the truck anymore—we were in my kitchen. Confusion doesn’t even come close to what I was feeling.
“I asked you half an hour ago. You passed out in the truck. Drink some water,” she said.
“I’m not used to all that exercise,” I said as I accepted the glass she handed me. “Told you it wasn’t good for me.”
I found I was thirstier than I thought, and drained the glass. She was cleaned up, so was I.
“Um, what happened?” My head hurt.
“Damned if I know,” Val said. “Your father and his friends—were those the things that attacked you in the cemetery?”
I nodded.
“When they touched me, it felt like arctic winds. Chilled me to the bone.”
“Like frozen metal on your skin,” I said.
“Yeah!”
I shook my head. “We need to get you to the hospital.”
“My arm’s fine.”
“Are you on crack? That Goth sliced your arm wi
de open.”
“Check this out.” She pushed her sleeve up.
I squinted as I poked at where the wound should have been. There was nothing.
“I saw you get cut.”
“And your hand.” She took my paw and turned it over. The slice was but a thin, red line. “Only difference is I don’t have a mark.”
I moved my fingers, made a fist. It felt fine.
“I have no idea what happened,” I said.
“I felt a bit woozy when you grabbed my arm, kind of drunk. It stopped quickly and I feel really good,” she said. “You stopped the bleeding.” Her brain was working at a transonic speed—the motion fragmented the remaining bits of her reality. “I saw those weirdos, saw what you did.” She took a deep breath. “You’re a Healer.”
“Now you believe me?” The book made it sound like you needed the precision of a surgeon to help someone. Maybe it’s an innate ability, because I sure as hell wasn’t studying anatomy. “Are you okay?”
“I’m kind of freaked.” Her voice was flat. “I’ve never … killed anybody … but their blood was green. What the hell are they?”
“My father called them ghouls.”
She dug through the stack of books that had taken permanent residence on my kitchen table.
“Ghouls, ghouls … hah!” She jabbed the page. “This says they rob graves and feed on corpses. Part of the nocturnal undead group.” What she’d just read sank in. “Gross!”
At least Val hadn’t killed a living creature.
“They were out in the day though,” I said.
“Maybe they’ve evolved.”
“When we stood together, they couldn’t get near us.” I’d been turning that one over for a while. “I think it’s the shield we read about.”
“Huh?”
“The Healer and Protector thing: ‘Energy is shared between them, a delicate balance that provides a guardianship for both.’”
She nodded. “I felt something close around us. It was pulsing, almost alive. Did you see anything else about it in the books?”
“Nothing. Are you sure you’re okay?”
The Darkness of Shadows Page 12
