Paranormal Realities Box Set

by Mason, Patricia

  As my hands gently stroked his face, his hair, his back, I felt the rage seep from Rom until the kiss softened. His lips pulled away and he rested his forehead against mine, panting as if he’d run a race.

  “Apologies,” he murmured. “I know not what—”

  “It’s okay,” I murmured.

  “If I had harmed you, I…”

  “You didn’t.” I kissed his cheek and then stepped back. At one time I would have said I knew he couldn’t hurt me because he cared too much about me, but after my father on the bridge I knew better. Crazy trumped love or caring.

  “Kizzy?” My father’s voice came from behind me.

  I’d forgotten he liked getting breakfast at that restaurant before going home when he was on the night shift at the factory where he worked manufacturing private jets. Should I brazen it out and try to deny my identity? I wasn’t sure if I was a good enough actress for that.

  “Kathleen Elizabeth Taylor,” my father said. “I know it's you.”

  Well, that took care of that plan.

  “Dad.” I twisted out of Rom’s arms, forcing a smile. The smile went from fake to genuine when I saw the man who’d always been my hero growing up and not the crazy loon version of the person. However, his furious expression was one I hadn’t seen often.

  “Who the hell is this?” Dad glared at Rom.

  “Rom Calixo, sir.” Rom offered a hand, which my dad didn’t take. After a few seconds Rom dropped it.

  “That’s just a name. Who are you to be kissing my daughter like that?” Dad got up in Rom’s face with his hands clenched in angry fists. The two were the same height so they ended up nose to nose.

  “He’s my friend.” Boyfriend wouldn’t be a good term to use in front of either Rom or my dad but for different reasons.

  “No one hurts my girl and gets away with it,” Dad said to Rom. “Is he abusing you?” Dad spoke over his shoulder to me before directing his intense glare on Rom again.

  “Of course not.” I searched my improv bank. “We’re in a drama class together today at school and we were just rehearsing a scene.”

  “A scene?” Dad turned to me and scrutinized my face while I tried to make my expression as blank as possible by thinking of math equations.

  “I’m going to be having a conversation with the principal,” he finally continued. “A scene that includes something like that is too sophisticated for a fifteen year old.”

  Nodding in agreement, I suppressed a smile. My poker face had definitely improved. But I was getting lots of practice these days.

  Dad fingered my shoulder length curls. “You’re not straightening it anymore?”

  “Not today,” I said.

  “It looks good, honey.” He kissed my forehead.

  Biting my lips, I choked down tears. “Thanks.”

  “But you should wear your uniform to school or you’ll get in trouble.”

  “You’re right.” I wrapped him in an impulsive hug. Should I say something about avoiding bridges? Warn against a random angel-demon? Beg him not to try to kill me in a month?

  “Gotta go. See ya, Dad.” Stepping back I pivoted and walked away.

  * * * * *

  After asking Rom to wait outside, I climbed up the tree in front of my house and peered into my bedroom through the window. Fortunately, I wasn’t in there so I lifted the sash and crawled through. Juliette wasn’t in the bathroom or her room. She must have left already.

  I quickly threw on my school uniform and tossed a change of clothes into a canvas messenger bag. After twisting my hair back in a ponytail, so the curls weren’t so obvious, I went downstairs to find my mom doing dishes in the kitchen.

  “Hi Kizzy,” Mom said. “I thought you left for school a few minutes ago. You’re gonna be late.”

  “I forgot something.”

  A pterodactyl toy sat alone on the island counter.

  Not being able to help myself I asked, “Where’s Adam?”

  “Mrs. Larson took him to pre-school.” Mom rinsed a frying pan under the faucet and then placed it in the drying rack on the counter.

  “I could have taken him for you,” I said over more lumps in my throat than there were in Mom’s terrible Thanksgiving gravy.

  “He likes to go with her son, Peter.” She placed a newly cleaned fork in the rack.

  “Mom.” I touched the plastic pterodactyl and ran my finger over its rough surface. “Can I talk to you about something serious?”

  Squeezing the faucet off, she wiped her hands on a towel and turned to face me.

  “Of course.” She took my hand and drew me to the kitchen table. We sat down.

  “This is going to sound weird but just go with it,” I said.

  She nodded.

  “I don’t want you to let us—me and Adam—go for visitation with Dad on June 21st.”

  “Honey, you have to go on visitation." Mom’s expression was sympathetic but she shook her head. "We’ve discussed this before.”

  “No, Mom. Something bad is going to happen that weekend. Don’t let us go.”

  “I know you want to go to that solstice festival with Petra but—”

  “That’s not it,” I shouted. “We could die that weekend.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Mom's sympathy vanished and her expression transformed from kindly to pissed. "Kizzy, you're being ridiculously dramatic." She clasped my hands on top of the table. "I know you're angry with your Dad for the divorce, but I've tried to explain, he's not to blame. Two people make a marriage and when it breaks down—"

  "Really." Pulling away from her, I interrupted. "This is serious. Dad is going to go crazy and try to kill us."

  "Kathleen Elizabeth, you are not to say such a disrespectful thing about your father." Her lips compressed in an angry line and she stood, pushing the chair violently back.

  "Mom."

  "No," she said, holding up a hand. "I won't stand for this kind of behavior. Do you want to be grounded?"

  "Just remember what I said." I stood and walked into the hall.

  As I went out the door, she called my name but didn't turn back.

  * * * * *

  Not running into myself in school was going to be tricky, I thought as Rom and I lurked under a nearby tree watching the entrance.

  “Juliette is probably already inside,” I said. “What if you go in and take the lead in trying to find her. I’ll just hang back and try to stay out of my own way.”

  Rom nodded and we moved forward. Just when I thought we would make it through the door without being seen by anyone I knew, Petra appeared from nowhere.

  “Kizzy,” she called.

  I stopped with a groan.

  “Keep going,” I whispered to Rom. “I’ll catch up.” Spinning I smiled hoping it wasn’t as strained as it felt.

  “Hi Petra. Bye Petra.” I attempted to follow after Rom who by now was about ten feet away. “I’m late for my first class.”

  “You are not,” Petra said. “Your first class is with me and you still have a half hour. Are you pissed at me or something?”

  “No. Of course not.” I stopped again.

  “Just because I went out with Chase last night instead of to that movie with you.” She pushed the hair out of her eyes and adopting a martyred expression. “You’ve already found me guilty of being a bad friend. I might as well be living in Salem during the witches. They couldn’t get a fair trial either.”

  “Petra.” I stamped down my impatience. Breathing in a deep calming breath, I exhaled slowly. “Okay. How about this? You do something for me and you’re completely forgiven.”

  “What?”

  “In about a month, on June 21st.” Our eyes met and I tried to inject every bit of seriousness I could muster. “Don’t let me or Adam go on visitation with my Dad no matter what you have to do to stop us.”

  “Wow. And I thought I was a drama queen,” she said. “Visiting your dad can’t be that bad. I don’t like spending time with my dad either but—”


  “No. Really.” I took her hand and giving it a shake. “Just promise me, Petra. If you’re my friend, you’ll do it.”

  “Okay, okay. I promise.”

  “I gotta go.” I turned on my heel and strode off. “Later.”

  When I got inside the door, Rom hovered near a bank of lockers a few feet away. Our eyes met and he inclined his head to the right. Following his indication, I spotted Juliette disappearing into the women’s room. After I pushed through the door after her, I saw Juliette standing in front of the mirror over the sinks as she applied lip-gloss.

  “Juliette.” I approached her.

  “Hey Kizzy.” She glanced at me in the mirror before returning to applying make-up.

  “Umm,” I started, not knowing how to begin. “We haven’t had the best of relationships as stepsisters.” She began to speak and I interrupted holding up a hand. “My fault. Not yours,” I continued.

  She stopped applying make-up and stared at me via the mirror.

  “Let me try to change that.” I took a star shaped gold locket on a chain from my pocket. Holding it out to her by the chain I continued. “This is a family heirloom.” I didn’t say which family. “It would mean everything to me if you would take it and wear it always.” At least for the next four months.

  “It’s lovely. I don’t know what to say.” Juliette turned and took it from my hand.

  “You don’t have to say anything. Just wear it.”

  “Okay.” She turned back to the mirror and secured the chain around her neck. “Thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to me.”

  “To me too.” I offered a sincere smile. Juliette had the tracker around her neck. Thank heavens something had finally gone right.

  As new comrades in arms —er sisters—we left the woman’s room together only to find Billy outside arguing with Rom.

  “Shut up, jerk.” Billy waved a fist. “I saw you. Don’t bother to deny it.”

  “I haven’t understanding of what you wish no denial for,” Rom said.

  “You’re stalking my girl,” Billy yelled. “I saw you watching Juliette.”

  “Billy.” Juliette's lips widened into a pleased grin. “I didn’t realize you even liked me.”

  “Course I do,” he said with his recognizable Billy bluster. “You’re the most beautiful girl in this school.”

  Juliette giggled sidling up to him. “And you’re the most handsome guy.” She simpered with a pretty blush that made me want to gag.

  “Hey. What’s that?” Billy fingered the locket. “You weren’t wearing that earlier.”

  “No. It was a gift—" Juliette began before she was cut off.

  “You don’t need gifts from anyone but me.” Billy grasped the star and tore the chain off her neck. "Certainly not from this guy.” Billy pointed to Rom.

  “It was from—" I began. Before I could finish the sentence with “me.” Billy threw the locket down. Rom made a grab for it but Billy stomped on the star and flattened it, almost getting Rom’s hand in the bargain.

  “Are you kidding me, you a-hole,” I yelled. “The locket was from me.”

  “Sorry, Kizzy, but he was jealous.” Juliette glanced from me to Billy with an appeasing smile while still simpering.

  “I’m gonna ignore the insult since you’re Juliette’s sister,” Billy said.

  “You are just the tool of the universe aren’t you?” I wanted to strangle him.

  Rom straightened and the red rage I’d seen earlier returned to his face.

  “You shall pay for your action." Rom said.

  He drew his arm back and then punched forward with the palm of his hand flat, fingers scrunched back. The butt of the palm struck a blow that hit Billy in the stomach blasting the air out of him and knocking him off his feet. Billy flew back about two feet before landing. Juliette screamed and rushed to his side, crouching down to coo at him.

  Before the bully could get his wind, I tugged at Rom’s arm.

  “Come on, Bruce Lee,’ I said. “Let’s get out of here. It’s over.”

  Rom, stumbling, allowed me to lead him away.

  Without a car it was going to be difficult for us to get to Zen’s house.

  “Let’s run over to my dad’s house,” I suggested, glancing over my shoulder to see if any authorities from the school were following us down the front walk. “He’ll be asleep by now and since he works tonight he’ll sleep all day. We can borrow his car and go over to Zen’s to see if he has another tracker.”

  “Only one and one half hours remain of the four Zen allotted.” Rom still seemed to be struggling with his anger.

  “Do you have a better idea?”

  Rom shook his head.

  * * * * *

  The spare key to Dad’s house was hidden, just as I’d expected, under the garden gnome in the row of hedges along the wrap around porch. Lifting it, I tossed it up in the air and caught it again as I skipped up the steps two at a time to the front door.

  “Wait here,” I said to Rom. “I’ll get my dad’s car keys and we'll be off.”

  Rom’s face was still a ruddy and angry red, but he held in his temper. As I unlocked the door, he paced away to a bench on the porch and sank down on it hard before resting his head in his hands.

  Pushing the front door open slowly, I tested the noise it would generate and found just a minor squeak so I tiptoed forward. The car keys would probably be tucked in Dad’s abandoned pants from the day before. Softly padding along the wood floor of the entrance hall, I made my way to the back of the house, toward the master bedroom. Once there, I nudged the door open carefully. As it swung wide, a figure came into view crouched on the bed.

  Crap, I thought, my dad was still awake.

  The door opening widened and the full reality of the scene before me slowly registered in my conscious brain. At first, I thought I’d come upon Dad having sex with one of his girlfriends since a female figure was straddled on top of him above the sheets. Gradually, I realized the woman had white blonde hair flowing down her back. Suddenly, I knew Namia, the female ghoul, not a woman, was crouching over my dad.

  The scream that met my ears could probably be heard in seven surrounding counties and by all the ships at sea. The scream came from me.

  The ghoul started and sat up as she turned toward me. A gaping bite wound on my father’s chest seeped blood. My father’s blood coated the ghoul's row of jagged teeth and dripped down her chin in heavy rivulets. In a macabre way she reminded me of the way Adam’s face looked after he had eaten a particularly delicious ice cream sundae.

  “Demon,” my father groaned out, his eyes mere slits.

  No, it's a ghoul, I thought.

  The ghoul hissed at me and she leaped off my dad. At that moment, Rom appeared behind me and I saw him take in the situation. He charged at Namia. Desperate, I scanned the room for a weapon. A bottle of whiskey, a pack of cigarettes and a book of matches sat on the dresser within a few steps. I grabbed for the whiskey and twisted off the cap.

  Rom wrestled with Namia, one hand on her neck keeping her teeth from him. The ghoul’s screams of fury echoed in the room. He held her off but seemed to be weakening.

  I took a gulping swig of the whiskey and held it in my mouth. The liquid burned the innocent tissues and some trickled down my throat leaving a fiery trail. Lighting a match, I angled myself around in back of her. Rom saw me and tried to hold her further away from him. When I drew close enough, I spewed the alcohol on the ghoul and it drenched the gauzy material of one shoulder of her white dress and a bit of her upper back. I tossed the match. The lit end landed on her shoulder and the fire sparked a blue flame like the flambé we’d had last Christmas. The fabric burned away first and then the skin. The smell of singed and burning rotted meat almost made me vomit.

  The ghoul screamed. Pulling away from Rom, she ran around the room trying to see over her shoulder and beat at the flame. Her hair caught fire and she dropped to the floor. In a few seconds I suspected it would be too late to
save her.

  Billy might have been an ass, but I didn't want him dead dead, so I snagged the blanket off the foot of Dad’s bed, wrapped it around her thrashing form and dampened out the flames. Namia lay, eyes closed and unmoving, beneath me. But her breathing seemed strong.

  “Find rope to secure her,” Rom said. “Allow me to guard.”

  After searching the house, I returned with a variety of objects including rope, extension cords, Christmas lights and one more thing: a pair of silver cufflinks.

  “Stuff these in her mouth,” I suggested. “And gag her with this."

  We knotted her in as best we could, with the blanket covering her completely. I turned to Dad. He seemed to rouse a little when I poured hydrogen peroxide in the wound before applying an antiseptic. A futile gesture, but I couldn’t just leave him, doing nothing.

  “Kizzy,” he said in a groggy voice. It was as if the ghoul’s bite had drugged him. “What are you doing in my dream?”

  “Go back to sleep," I whispered.

  “Why are you crying?” Dad asked, before his eyes drifted shut again.

  “I’m not.” I scraped at the moisture on my cheeks and crawled off the bed. After watching my dad’s even breathing for a few minutes, I left the bedroom to join Rom and the mummified ghoul in the hall.

  “Time has run,” Rom said. “We must go.”

  “Yes.” I couldn’t meet his eyes and I could barely speak past the nausea clogging my throat. I held up the keys I’d fished out of Dad’s pocket. “You drive.”

  We put Namia in the trunk and drove the short distance to the wormhole house. Fortunately, we were able to park directly in front. After opening the trunk, Rom handed me the keys and I placed them under the driver’s side mat. Rom hoisted the ghoul over his shoulder so she hung half down his back. We made our way to the spiral staircase and then to the veranda, before crawling into the window of the bedroom.