“Nothing is ever simple.” I press my head to his chest before I zip the winter jacket. The small device makes our parting feel final once I pulled it closed.
“Hey,” he pulls my face to his so I may not only see him, but also see his words, “I’ll be fine. We will be back before you even notice us gone. Don’t worry so much. Keep the bed warm for me?” he asks with teasing hopes, bending his body to look into my eyes. Pressing my body against his, I kiss his smirking lips, pulling him deeper into his passion. My tongue explores his mouth, savoring the taste of it before I pull away. His face shows his amusement and enjoyment of my boldness. Let him hope.
One last parting touch and he slips from me, leading them into the courtyard. He never looks back to say goodbye. I did not really expect him to. He has switched to a different man now from the one he just was. He is no longer my Lawless. He is theirs.
Chapel pats my back as he walks past me. He is still sheltering me, lending me his strength as my heart races watching them leave me behind with my many imaginary scenarios of the run. I feel Aimes’ hand in mine as the same fears root her to this spot beside me.
The roar of their bikes fills the night with their departure. My warhorse, with Marxx behind her wheel, answers their battle cry with her heavy engine, leading them into their charge. I watch the four grinning skulls fade from my view, feeling my stomach drop when the courtyard gate swings shut behind them.
Sometimes falling in love feels a lot like fear. The heart races with the thought of it. Hands shake with the worry from it. Sometimes, it is even just as life changing when it is upon you.
“I’m going back up. You coming?” Aimes’ voice is timid, and her eyes are still glued to the last spot they held for us.
“In a minute.”
I know if we both go up together it will be our undoing. Separate, we can force our emotions down, not having to watch them on the face of the other.
“Yeah. Okay,” she whispers, heading to the stairway.
I watch her reflection glance back at the gate with every other step she is taking until she is behind her own closed door.
“So just like that?”
Dolph’s voice brings my eyes to his direction. He is leaning against the hall with his normal half turn. I meet his eyes in the thick glass mirroring us.
“Just like what?” I ask, watching his face run through many emotions as he carefully chooses his next words before looking back at me.
“After all he has done. Just like that?”
His southern drawl is tighter than normal. His body more twisted from me, keeping him only half invested in the conversation, but those eyes, his eyes watch me so deeply.
“It isn’t that simple,” I tell his reflection, too scared to face him with his accusations of my weakness and Lawless’ actions.
He nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth. “Yeah,” he tells me, “I guess nothing ever is.”
He returns to me the very words I had just told the man whose loyalty Dolph is questioning. We stare at one another’s reflection with his words between us before he pulls himself from the wall. I watch him walk away from me the way Aimes watched the gate. He glances back at me one final time before the heavy metal doors close behind him, leaving me alone with his words still echoing in my mind.
I stand alone in the dark hallway, staring out the window at the one black motorcycle they have left behind. Its handlebars are turned, pointing the front of the bike severely, giving it an almost broken look as it stands alone in the courtyard where so many were once placed beside it. Its headlight is ominously watching me from its side of the glass, trying to whisper to me as snow begins to cover it with a soft, white blanket. Like an apparition dissolving from my view, it slowly begins to fade with its black frame obscured by the swirling snow. For reasons unknown, it fills me with dread, sending cold shivers into my soul.
“Please be careful,” I whisper to no one, and yet, to everyone at the same time. All I can do now is wait and pray. I can pray.
Chapter 48
Aimes and I sit in our corner like bad little children as we wait patiently for their return. By patiently, I mean feet tapping, window glancing, deep sighing, heart racing and pausing with every sound we hear hopeful it’s them. Maybe we are not so, patient after all.
Silence hangs between us. My mouth is dry from my fears and anxiety. I doubt I could form any words right now, much less hold any meaningful conversation. Simon and Richard sit with us as we float in our river of worry. Its current is taking us faster and deeper into horrors we have imagined awaiting them.
“I’m sure they are fine,” Richard tells us.
It is his voice, but it is Ross’ smile. Neither brings me any com- fort, and looking to Aimes, she is not rejoicing either.
“Knowing them, they have most likely found a deserted bar along the way and have stopped in to see what is left,” Richard continues with his oh-so-helpful parade.
“Rhett is probably playing spin the bottle with the Risen.” Simon joins in Richard’s debate to try to lighten the mood.
“When necrophilia goes both ways?” Aimes is slowly lured out of her silence by their discussion.
“Does it really count as “cold packing” if they are still moving?” Simon shocks me with his knowledge of such topics and his knowledge of Rhett’s topics.
The shock brings laughter from Aimes and myself. Simon, always appearing so squeaky clean, holds a hidden dark twist to him. Richard also chuckles with embarrassment over enjoying the joke.
“Dead is dead, right?” Aimes is still giggling with a naughty hilarity.
Paula’s words slither into my mind, stealing the laughter from me. “They never really die,” she told us. “They never really die.” “Shhh,” Aimes stands hearing a sound I yet do not. “I think they are back.”
The whole floor pauses in activity, as one by one they turn to face the courtyard below us. The roaring becomes louder, and smiles spread throughout, as headlights gleam in the darkness. Conversations grow louder as a welcome home to our antiheroes. I watch from my upstairs window as the courtyard gate swings open admitting their return, but something is wrong. Something is terribly wrong.
Aimes and I run down the flights of stairs with our hearts pumping fear through our bodies with what we both saw from our window. The number was wrong. A single white headlight is missing. Someone did not return with the others. Someone was left behind.
Of all the imagined horrors I have brought forth in my mind, none were as horrible as this. Truth is again daring me to come explore her devious depths. She wants me to come see whom she has stolen from me now. How much of my heart is she about to shred with her evilness?
Truth so hates to be ignored, and we have done just that again. Safe behind these thick walls, we have forgotten how dangerous she can be. So caught up in our pettiness, we lost sight of the real danger lurking all around. Now she is here to remind us of it with the loss of the one who is not here to be with us.
Aimes stops me, holding me to her, to keep me from going out- side once we reach the bottom floor. My truck is blocking them, and I cannot see who is here or not here. Panic builds with my frustration of not knowing the answer. The world seems to have stopped as we wait for Truth to reveal herself to us and then she does. I will never ignore her again.
Their shapes form from the darkness that encloses the space before us. I recognize each one as they come into the hallway. The one I do not recognize steals my breath and the strength of my body to support me.
I fall wordlessly to the ground, dragging Aimes with me in my defeat. She wraps herself around me rocking us both. Unable to yet breathe, my tears cascade freely from me. My lungs release their pressure from the shock and my first inhale drags a moan from me like a banshee on a high hill. I scream for him as they stand around me, their own grief tearing them apart with mine. My lighthouse is gone. The one black bike that is missing, it is his. “How?” Is all that I can form once my grief is spent. It’
s such a small fragile word and it can only bring me more pain.
My body is numb and yet, I still rock, fallen on the floor. My eyes see nothing. My hands feel nothing as they shake, sending their refusal to believe it through my arms. My arms that will never hold him to me again.
J.D. leans against the blackened window. He stares at the ceiling with sightless eyes remembering what has happened.
“We were overrun,” he begins, and has to stop just as abruptly, with the grief that the memory brings. He breathes in shallow breaths and holds them, trying to get control of himself. “The damn things. They snuck up on us. They were waiting in the lot. Had the bikes all surrounded. No way to get past them. They watched us ride in on them so they just waited for us to have to ride out.”
I know where my small fragile word is taking me and yet, I still have to hear it. I have to know. Truth so hates to be ignored.
“He ran right out there. Never said a word. Just did it. He just ran right out there,” he whimpers.
J.D.’s voice breaks as he breaks. His body slides down the wall, unable to support the weight of his grief with what his mind is showing him; the death of the only man he thought of as a son.
“You just left him?” Aimes asks. Her breathing is short and shallow, hyperventilating from her pain.
She does not understand yet. She does not see what is on their faces. Their faces so wet with their grief. Their shoulders are silently shaking on their kneeling bodies all around us in the dark. I do. I understand. Truth so hates to be ignored.
“There was nothing to leave. They left us nothing to leave,” J.D. shatters with his words.
Truth is finally with us. Her gown is the color of the blackest of mourning. It’s a shade so dark with evil she glistens in it. She dances around us with her presence, spreading her pain like a haunting melody. This melody she is singing will scar us with its words forever.
Lawless will not be coming back to me. So much time I wasted while she waited. So much I left unsaid with my anger. So many things I have done for which I will never be able to apologize, and my moaning starts again with the truth of it.
Truth waited for this night like a bride planning her wedding. Each detail was undertaken with great care. Every moment planned for her perfect night. She and I are wed now with his loss. She will walk with me until the end of my days. Until death do us part. Amen.
Chapter 49
I dreamt of them that night. Lawless, with his effortless laugh, is chasing Lilly and Conroy around a park on a summer day. The sky above us is a crystal blue with the whitest clouds I have ever seen. A soft, warm breeze caresses my face, chasing away the many tears I have cried. The birds sing their songs of happiness, filling the air with their joy. I watch them play a game of tag that only they understand in the midst of so many other children surrounding them.
Ashley swings beside me. She floats higher and higher as her legs pump and her body sways with the swing. She smiles down at me at the crest of the swing’s path, and while I watch her descend, everything changes.
The soft white clouds roll together, forming a grey mass above me. The breeze turns cold with the lack of the summer sun to warm it. I search for them, and by their laughter, I find them still enjoying their game. They run among the many children who turn to stare at them as they go by with faces void of any childhood emotion. Their blank faces are so contrasting with the scene Lawless provides chasing Lilly and Conroy around them that something unsettles my heart.
I stand, confused by the silence the children mold into with their passing. I look to Ashley who is still swinging, still smiling down at me, trying to gather any sense of what is happening. The rhythmic creaking sound of the metal hinges of the swing adds to the unease of the situation.
The colors are fading to shades of greys and contouring blacks. I call to Lawless, trying to get him to see what I am seeing. He waves to me, and Lilly copies it, before tagging him and running away to be chased by him and Conroy. They both wear their coordinating blue pajamas, hers with the dancing bears and his with the cowboys on horses. The soft blue is the only color left around us and it separates them so much more from the watching statues gathered around.
The children stand in waves, synchronized with the creaking of Ashley’s swing. Each moan from the metal bringing more of them to their feet and still Lawless does not take notice of them. The children watch the game, silently with hungry, jealous eyes. They are stalking every movement of their prey.
I scream for Lawless, but no sound comes from me. My feet are rooted to the ground, and no matter how hard I pull, or how loud I try to scream, I am stuck motionless and mute. The only sound is the creaking of Ashley’s swing and the laughter of those I have lost. I am unable to stop what is about to happen as Margaret comes to stand beside me with her perfect pigtails and their white ribbons of childhood innocence.
The small children have become walking nightmares. Their once pretty and delicate clothing is now many stains of bright reds among the muted shades around them. Soft baby faces melt into grimaces of unnatural rage, exposing dark mouths no longer lined with the pinks of gums and the whites of teeth, but drip- ping black crimsons from unspeakable sins. With the style of a barbaric “Ring Around The Rosie”, they encircle Lawless and the two children who are still laughing with their game.
They are frozen around them, snarling and waiting as I attempt to scream. My throat burns with the force of it, but still no sound comes forth from my desperation. I buckle from the strain of it, pleading for them to hear me, but they do not. The ring of children turns to me, smiling with their motives and my body shakes with the horror as their eyes glaze from their once bright colors to dull interpretations.
All at once, they launch at their victims, pulling them down and shredding into them among screams filling the air. Tiny hands pull chunks of flesh, sending it into the air with their destruction. They coat themselves in the murders and all there is to see is red. So much dripping red.
I become weightless with their death, swaying with each breath I take. I feel Margaret’s hand grab mine, tugging on me for my attention. Disbelievingly, I look to the red-haired girl beside me with her white ribbon-tied pigtails. She is smiling at me in her blue dress with its white flowers and denim jacket.
“We appear dead, but we aren’t. We never really died, until you.” Margaret’s voice is as sweet as the Serpent’s was to Eve and her words are just as damning as her dress slowly starts to become discolored with the blood from the death, I gave her.
“…but we are. We are dead, and it is also because of you,” Ashley says in response. She too is slowly becoming the destroyed doll I let her become with her ruined face and torn body.
Ashley is still swinging behind me and her words rain down on me like acid. The metal screeching of the hinges does not cover the wet sounds of the murders taking place or the wet blood, dripping from her as she swings.
I can’t look away from the little girl whose hand I am holding. She begins to hum a song. A song of pastel hallways and beady black eyes as she swings our hands in time with Ashley’s swing, still clutched together.
“… and everywhere that Helena goes, her lambs are sure to die,” Margaret sings and I scream.
I scream, tearing the flesh from my throat with my spare hand as grief rapes my senses.
“Helena! Helena! Breathe. Breathe for me!” I can hear Rhett’s voice. It pulls me from this nightmare with the rough shaking of my body. “Helena!”
My lungs burn when my eyes open to see him above me. They force air into them, expanding the pain to cover my whole body as they expand. I cry out with the many images of my dream still so vivid to me, and Rhett cradles me in his arms.
He melts his body to mine, encompassing me in his strength and scent. He holds me and we both cry together, hidden in this dark room with our shared sorrows over what we have lost. I cry with it until my body grows weak, lulling me back to sleep, even as I try to fight against it.
Rhett
pulls me tighter into him, wrapping his arms firmer around me with his desire to protect me.
“I’ll be right here. Right here,” he whispers to me. His voice is thick with his grief and suffering, and it pulls me deeper into mine. “Sleep, Sweetheart. Sleep, and escape.” He rocks me gently in his arms, and I feel myself slipping under again.
I want to tell him he is wrong. I cannot escape from what I have done. I want to beg him to keep me awake so I do not have to see them again. But I don’t, and the park looms before me again with its blue skies and its emerald green grass.
Chapter 50
She screamed for him most of the night. The rest, she just screamed. Every time I got her calmed down, she would just start back up again.”
Rhett’s voice eases me into the dawn I am blinking to fight against. I know by the muffled tone he is outside my room and attempting to whisper to someone who waits with him. He has been with me all night. His presence was curled around me when the demons came to play, and they played their dark games well. The scene might have changed, but it was always the same.
Lawless and my Angels stolen, massacred by child-like demons in front of me while I was unable to stop it. Their bodies were torn and mutilated with the children’s anger as I tore the flesh from my body myself. Sometimes Ashley would be an added sin, or an added sinner, as she and Margaret stood there damning me for my past.
I feel no more rested from my night’s sleep than a marathon runner feels after a race. My body aches with it, unable to move from the tight ball I have become. I can feel where my nails have raked my real flesh. It’s as sore and raw feeling as the rest of me. I don’t want to move. I just want to stay here forever, unwilling to face the first day without Lawless.
For brief moments, I am convinced I can smell him on the cot we shared. Small pockets of his scent will wrap around me so quickly, and fade just as rapidly, leaving me feeling betrayed with their departure. A shirt of his still lies on the floor where he left it. It’s a coiled snake with its dark hissing of what I have lost, what I had only hours ago and what I took for granted. I told him I never thought of him because I thought he would always be here. He would always be with me. I was wrong and now all I can do is think of him.
Dawning (The Risen Series Book 1) Page 36
