Nameless: The Darkness Comes

by Mercedes M. Yardley

  I rolled my eyes. “Please, honey. How many times do I have to ask you to drop the formality and call me Bart? I was named after my father,” I confided to the man. He looked appalled.

  “That’s a terrible name for a woman,” he sputtered.

  “I see your point...” I leaned in to read his nametag, “Shannon.” Shannon? “But Mother was a sentimental old thing.”

  Shannon Boyardee continued glaring at us. “But the yelling and screaming. You can’t tell me that’s low blood sugar.”

  Reed Taylor hung his head. “Nah, that would be me. I just can’t resist when Bart here gets all swoony. It’s every romantic fantasy I’ve ever had, come to life. I can’t seem to help myself.” He looked properly shamed. I snorted in laughter and tried to cover it up with a cough.

  “Well, thanks so much for your concern, Shannon, but I really ought to be going now. Obviously I need something to eat, and then everything will be just fine.” If the extra hostile demons manage to keep from flinging their soul-destroying selves at me, that is. A girl can always hope.

  I pushed the empty cart out of the store with as much dignity as I could muster, which wasn’t much, because that stupid wheel kept sticking and I had to throw my whole body weight against it in order to make it move. Every eye on the store was upon me.

  “See ya, guys,” Reed Taylor said, waving at everybody. “I’ll try to keep my hands off her until we get home, but I can’t make any promises.”

  “Blood sugar?” I growled at him as we walked to my car. Well, he walked. I was trying to do an angry stalk-like thing, but the cart was ruining it for me. Finally I snatched Lydia out of it, and did a much more satisfying stalk that way. Go, me.

  “Well, what else was I going to say? ‘Bartholomew here had a psychotic breakdown? Help, run away, save yourselves and your children?’ You should be thanking me.”

  I turned to face him. “My name is not Bartholomew. Nobody names their daughters Bartholomew. I’m Luna.”

  “I’m slightly relieved to hear that. I think.”

  “Get bent.” I turned away. He jogged after me.

  “Hey, why are you so angry at me, anyway?”

  I stopped, and Reed Taylor nearly ran into me. He had a point.

  I decided then and there that I would try my very best not to be horrible to him. After all, it wasn’t his fault I saw the things I did. Besides, he hung around with a strange invisible presence that had the power to mess with the demonic. I needed to know what it was. I needed to know why Reed Taylor could see him.

  I smiled sweetly at him.

  “Thank you for your help, Reed Taylor.”

  He stopped short, eyed me a little bit. “That sounds highly unnatural coming from you.”

  My smile quickly dropped into a scowl. “I was trying to be nice,” I nearly shouted. And winced. My head was killing me.

  Reed Taylor shook his head. “Wait,” he said, looking frustrated. “This is going all wrong. Let’s start over, shall we?”

  He stopped and held out his hand. I resituated Lydia so I could take it.

  “Hi,” he said, and smiled winningly. “My name is Reed Taylor. It’s nice to meet you…?”

  “Luna. Luna Masterson.” I shook his hand demurely.

  “Well, that’s quite a moniker.”

  My handshake became quite firm. Crushing, even. “I thought things were going to go well this time?”

  Reed Taylor smiled at me. “Maybe you and I are bound to create sparks, Luna.”

  I snorted. I couldn’t help it. That was so corny.

  Apparently Reed Taylor agreed. “I just…I’m just not batting a thousand. I swear I’m not so much of a loser.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Want to go to dinner?”

  “I don’t date losers.”

  “That’s pretty harsh. Eight?”

  I grabbed my lipstick from my back pocket and scrawled my phone number on his arm.

  “If you’re more than five minutes late, I’ll kill you.”

  We glared at each other, and then we both grinned. He bounded away, and I was humming as I strapped Lydia into her seat. He seemed like a nice guy, and heaven knows I could do with a nice guy every now and then. But more than that, I needed to get a bead on that mysterious presence. What was it? Could it help me?

  I was going to find out. And I needed Reed Taylor in order to do it.

  Chapter Six

  “So I have a date tonight,” I told Seth over the phone. He was eating at his desk, as usual. Noisily. In my ear. Brothers never change.

  “You? A date? With who?” He slurped loudly from his drink. Obviously his body was crying out desperately for hydration.

  “Well, his name is Reed Taylor, and he has awful blah-colored hair. And he was a user way back, so he says. He has this invisible thing that hangs around with him all of the time. It kind of gets in my way, but it has its uses. Like today when the demon attacked me in the middle of the hamburger section—”

  “What’s wrong with his hair?” Seth asked. “I mean, what is it exactly that you don’t like?”

  And that’s Seth for you. He has this amazing mind, right? Quick, eager. His brain has tentacles and is always waving them around, ready to grab something interesting and suck it all in to its brain-mouth, or whatever. But the things Seth finds interesting, well. They just baffle me. I mean, I am boggled.

  “His hair, it’s like...I don’t know. Nondescript. Nothing stands up and shouts. If his hair was a man, he’d always dress in beige. And eat mayo on white with the crusts cut off. All of the time. And say things like, ‘That is very interesting,’ even when it’s not. You know that type of person?”

  “Does Reed Taylor’s beige-man hair wear a tie?”

  “Yes, he does. It’s a washed out gray, and very wide.”

  “Are you done?”

  “And I think his beige-man hair guy’s name is Nathanial.”

  “Not Nate?”

  “Nope. Nathanial. And he’ll politely, but firmly, correct you if you call him anything else. ‘Hey, man,’ ‘No, my name is Nathanial’ type of thing. Cripes, I don’t know if I can go out with him.”

  “Because of his beige-man hair guy named Nathanial?”

  “Maybe. And because I think I might like him.”

  “Nathanial?”

  “No, Reed Taylor, you dork. Keep up with the conversation. Sheesh. I can’t believe you sometimes.”

  Seth swallowed more mouthfuls of something crunchy. “Sorry. Guess I’d better stick to what I do, eh?”

  I shook my head, although of course he couldn’t see me. Unless he was mysteriously psychic, and perhaps that wouldn’t surprise me at all, not with my family.

  “Stop that, Seth. There’s nothing wrong with being a legal assistant.”

  “Yeah, not if that’s what you’d like to do. But if your goal was to be a lawyer…”

  This was an old argument. “So go back to law school. Sparkles is gone, Seth. She doesn’t need you to wait on her hand and foot anymore. I’m running the place now, and I say to get thy degree.”

  He almost laughed, which was good. I shifted gears.

  “Anyway, you’re good to have Lydia tonight, right? So I can go out with the hair man?”

  “I am always available to facilitate your dating endeavors, my horribly, tragically single sister. May you have better luck than I did.”

  “Here’s to that,” I said, and clinked an imaginary glass.

  I hung up. Lydia was napping, exhausted by entertaining so many callers at the grocery store. I went to front door and peered out of the window. A demon peered morosely back.

  I stepped outside, and the demon reached out for the doorknob. It slipped right through his wispy hands.

  “Were you here yesterday, too?” I asked it. It looked at me blankly.

  “Yesterday?”

  Ah, one of those. Totally disoriented, almost totally benign. I felt sorry for them, actually. I sat down on the step.

 
“Come sit with me, demon.”

  He did. He wrapped vaguely transparent arms around black robes like fog.

  “So why are you so interested in the window there? What are you looking for?”

  The demon peered at me, like he had never seen a human before. “Window?”

  This might not be worth the effort. I tightened my muscles to stand up, but watched the demon turn his head, this way and that. He seemed so lost. It made me feel bad for abandoning him. I tried again.

  “What are you looking for, demon?”

  He was silent for a while, and I watched the light breeze disturb his flowing blackness. Like watching ink in water. It was strangely beautiful in a disquieting way.

  Then he spoke. His voice was breathy and weak. “I’m hungry,” he said.

  Well. That had me shooting to my feet. I had my hand on the door and was ready to dart inside when he spoke again.

  “For…” he fluttered his hands, unable to find the words. “For…”

  “Food? Delicious people?” I offered, still poised to run.

  He shook his head, distressed. “No. For…not this.” He looked down at his body, his misty arms hanging loosely. He grabbed his robes and swayed slowly from side to side. “For not this,” he said again, and then it was almost sing-songy. “For not this, for not this. I’m hungry for not this.”

  It was eerie. And heartbreaking. I stood there, horrified and saddened. There was nothing I could do for this guy. What is the use, I thought bitterly, of seeing these things everywhere if there’s nothing I can do? It was too much to take.

  “There’s nothing in there that can help you,” I told the demon. He acted like he didn’t hear me, still swaying back and forth, speaking mostly to himself. I opened the door and stepped inside when suddenly the demon spoke again.

  “That,” he said, pointing. “I want that.”

  “What?” I asked him, craning my neck to see.

  “That,” he said again, firmly.

  I looked at where his translucent finger pointed. I stared hard. The demon made a moaning, almost happy sound.

  There was absolutely nothing there.

  “I don’t see anything,” I told the demon. He looked at me, his gaze suddenly sharp and intense. My hand froze on the door handle.

  “Ah, Luna,” he said knowingly, and I swallowed hard. His eyes were penetrating. “Then you really can’t see anything at all, can you?” And he smiled.

  Chapter Seven

  I was still freaked out by the demon’s change in personality when Reed Taylor came to pick me up. On a motorcycle, nonetheless. He roared to a stop in front of my house and pulled off his helmet. I couldn’t feel the invisible presence anywhere, and that might not be such a bad thing.

  “It’s me,” he said helpfully.

  Thank you, Captain Obvious.

  I eyed the bike. I was standing there in a filmy, light blue skirt and top. Ethereal looking, even. He was so killing my mystical vibe.

  “Do I, uh, need to come in and…meet your brother or something?”

  I’d filled Reed Taylor in on the phone earlier. “Come pick me up, and oh yeah, I live with my brother. And be sure to kick the demons in the face when you come. In the face.”

  Okay, so maybe I made that last part up.

  I blew my hair out of my eyes. “Nah, he’s my brother, not my warden. Besides, if you really want to say hi, you can wave from here. Most likely he’s peering at us discreetly through the kitchen blinds.”

  Reed Taylor tucked his helmet under his arm and waved a bit wildly toward the kitchen. I saw the tell-tale movement of the blinds as my brother slunk away from them. Typical.

  “So,” I said, chewing on my index fingernail. I can’t help it, it’s a bad habit. There are always worse things I can be doing. “What’s the plan, Stan?”

  “The plan is that you get on this bike and hold on tightly to ole’ Reed, because we are going to tear all around this town. Ready, baby?”

  It is to my credit that I didn’t laugh. Sure, I had to bite my lip, and I made a strangled sound that sounded like I was choking, but I kept the laughter at bay.

  “If I had known,” I said, “I would have worn jeans.” Not only for modesty’s sake, but also because Reed Taylor looked like he had just rolled out of bed ten minutes ago. After sleeping for about twenty years. And a shave would have been nice. Oh well.

  “You look fine. Now will you please get on the bike? You don’t need to be afraid. Motorcycles can be quite safe if you’re a good driver, and I am a very good driver.”

  He revved the engine in what he hoped was an intimidating manner.

  “You think I’m scared of your bike?” I asked sweetly.

  “There’s no reason to be,” he said, still revving.

  “But there’s only one helmet.”

  “You can use mine,” he said graciously. “I’ll go without. It’s important the lady always be protected.”

  Good heavens. I smiled flirtatiously at Reed. “I forgot something in the garage. Do you mind waiting just a second?” I batted my eyes. Gosh, I’m good.

  “Sure,” Reed Taylor said. He brushed his terrible hair back with his hand.

  When I walked out of the garage, he gawked at me.

  “Let’s go,” I said, pulling my own motorcycle helmet over my head.

  “Where did you get that?” he asked. His wide green eyes were gorgeous.

  “Dude, I never ride without a helmet. Are you crazy?” I swung my leg easily over the bike, wrapped my arms around his stomach. “I’ve been riding since I was a kid. Know what else?”

  “What?”

  “My bike’s a lot bigger than yours.”

  Reed Taylor yanked his helmet onto his head and took off. The force of it made me tighten my arms around him even more. I couldn’t stop laughing.

  Except there is a downside to a full-face motorcycle helmet, and that is every sound you make is amplified like crazy. After my laughter finally quieted down into almost hiccupy sobs, and then snorting smirks, I had a monster of a headache. It sounded like the very demons of Hell had been cackling maniacally in my ears. But nope, it was just me.

  “So where are we going?” I shouted at Reed Taylor. My amplified voice nearly made my eyes cross.

  “No idea,” he called back over his shoulder. “How about wherever the wind takes us?”

  “Ah, so you’re a free spirit,” I yelled and promptly decided I was finished talking. My voice was driving me insane. Funny, I had dates tell me that before. Losers.

  Reed Taylor was laughing, and I decided to lean against him and enjoy the ride. I hadn’t been behind another rider in years. I used to ride with my father, but he had one of his episodes once and we’d crashed. He came out of it okay, but I broke my leg a pretty good one, and he sold the bike after that. He swore he’d never ride again, and he kept that promise for about five years. Then he’d bought a new one, and we’d gone tearing around again. It was in our blood.

  And it was nice. I liked the feel of Reed Taylor, and I loved the feel of the bike. I closed my eyes and there were no demons, no invisible presences, nothing I didn’t want to see. It was heaven.

  Until an hour later, and I was starving. I mean, seriously, howlingly starving. Reed Taylor’s shoulders were starting to look delicious.

  “When are we going to eat?” I asked him. He flicked his eyes to mine in his rearview mirror.

  “Hey, Luna, I thought you were sleeping back there.”

  I nearly was. “Of course not. Do you think I’m crazy? Feed me!”

  Reed looked around. “You know, I don’t really know where we are. I just kind of drove up the coast for a bit.”

  Normally this is the type of behavior I would applaud, but I was dying. I could feel my skin burning high up on my cheeks, a sure sign I was going to go ballistic without food. And Reed Taylor seemed like such a nice guy. It would be a shame to see him go. Just then, a blue sign caught my eye.

  “Pull over here,” I shouted, and poin
ted. The motorcycle slowed down, and Reed sprayed gravel as he stopped short. I hopped off the bike.

  “You know this place?” he asked me, yanking his helmet off. His hair was an absolute mess. I liked this guy better and better.

  “Know the owner. You’ll like it.”

  I tugged my helmet off and hung it on his handlebar. Then I set about to the business of fluffing my hair.

  “All right, let’s go,” I said, and pulled Reed Taylor by the hand.

  “I wouldn’t go in there right now,” a demon said to me. He was leaning casually on the doorjamb, his robes fluttering around him like black wings.

  I ignored him and kicked open the wooden door.

  “You’ll regret it,” he called after me. I muttered something not very nice under my breath.

  “What’s that?” Reed Taylor asked me.

  “Nothing. Two,” I said to the girl at the front, and dragged my date to an extremely tall table. I hopped up on my stool, and he climbed onto his.

  “Diet Coke,” I demanded before the waiter asked, and then I tented my fingers together patiently while Reed Taylor ordered lemonade. Hmmm. Refreshing.

  “I don’t drink anymore,” he explained while the waiter ran off to get our drinks. He looked almost embarrassed to tell me, but he was doing it anyway. I liked that.

  “I told you, you don’t have to explain yourself to me,” I said, but I was pleased. He could tell.

  He looked around. “What kind of hole in the wall is this?” The paint on the walls was blue at one point, but most of it had chipped off and faded by now. There was an old fishing net tossed haphazardly over our table like a tablecloth. Reed Taylor tried to extract his fork from it, but it wasn’t working. It was tangled in there pretty well.

  “This is the best fish and chips place you’ll find, Reed Taylor. And it’s dirt cheap. Even more importantly, it’s quick,” I said just as the waiter rushed up. He set down our drinks and whipped out his pad and paper. He ducked into himself, like he was trying to hide from me. For good reason.

  “Hey, Owen, where’s your hat?” I asked him. He scowled and pulled a paper diving helmet out of his apron. After carefully putting it on, he scrawled down our order, did a little nautical dance because we had ordered the special (why else would I order the special?) and zipped away.