It’s a bit terrifying to imagine how I might look from that angle.
By his face, I’d say it doesn’t look good. That frown could strip paint.
The other inhabitants of this madhouse clutter the opposite side of the room, facing the couch where I’m still sitting beside Finger. They watch Sid watch me like they’re not expecting much. This must not be the first time they’ve considered another recruit to this . . . whatever this is.
It’s definitely not a church-charity group home thing, obviously. And I don’t get a drug house vibe or a sex thing—if I did, I’d be out the door faster than Finger’s fingers tap on that Xbox controller. If this ghost hunter thing is a front for something else, it’s a really good one.
“Stand up, boy.” Sid waves his walking stick, pointing at a spot in the middle of the living room floor.
I rise from the couch and move to where he motioned. “Listen, Mr., um, Sid. I just—”
“No talking,” he grumbles, tapping my leg once with his stick.
It’s just a small tap, but I jerk back and glare at him. I don’t like people touching me, not ever. And I’ve had too many people think I’m a punching bag. If he does that one more time, I’ll take that stick from him and shove it up his—
“Yes! Fire! There, I see it now.” He smiles, changing his entire face. He glances behind him at the audience. “You were right, Kara.”
When I look over at her, her eyes move away to the window.
“Listen,” I say. “I just wanted to talk.”
“You need help,” Sid says.
I open my mouth to deny it, but then let out a sigh and just nod. What’s the point in pretending?
“Who sent you?” he asks.
“Hanna from SubZero. She gave me your number last night.”
He looks me over again. His eyes pause at my wounded hand. “What happened?”
I just stare back at him. Silent.
“Let me see it.” He waves me forward.
I don’t move. I can’t let him be in control, not before I know his angle. “I have a few questions first.”
He leans back on the arm of the couch beside Finger and nods for me to continue. A few members of the audience look impressed at my stubbornness, especially Lester and Holly, a young Hispanic girl—the one who’s high strung, according to Kara, and apparently obsessed with hair products. Her tight pink T-shirt says, I see stupid people. She kind of looks like an eighties throwback with rainbow knee-highs, pink Reebok high-tops, hair tied up with bright ribbons, and a headband with Hello Kitty on it.
“First I need to know exactly what it is you people do around here,” I say.
“Would you like to take that one, Kara?” Sid asks.
“We’re like fumigators,” she says to me. “We kill bugs. Otherworldly bugs. Kill ’em, lock ’em up, or cast ’em out. Whatever suits at the time. And we get paid pretty good to do it, too.”
“Otherworldly bugs?” I ask, feeling the blood leave my head. “Like what, exactly?”
Sid responds, “Don’t play dumb, boy. You already know what kind of bugs she means. The same kind that helped you get that wound.” He nods at my hand.
This is unbelievable. “Demons?”
I realize too late that he tricked that piece of information out of me. First he opens his mouth in shock, then his lips shift to a slight, knowing smile. “The rare demon, here and there, but mostly ghosts and poltergeists.” No red spark. He’s not lying—or doesn’t think he is, anyway.
Lester pipes in, “We killed a vampire once!” He sticks his chest out a little, like he’s the one that made the kill. Which is ridiculous.
“Vampires?” Okay, they’re full of shit.
“It wasn’t a vampire vampire,” Kara says, glaring at Lester. “It was a spirit that liked blood energy. We just didn’t know what else to call it. This old man had to put a fresh bowl of pig’s blood out every night, or the thing would rattle his windows and turn off his TV. So we helped him get rid of it.”
A million questions are spinning around in my head. They know about this stuff. But how? I look at Kara. “You can see them.”
“Not exactly,” she says. And I’m surprised by the disappointment that filters into my gut. For a moment I’d thought she might be like me. “I feel them. Sometimes hear them. But I can’t see them.”
“Kara is invaluable,” Sid says, giving her a fatherly look that seems a little . . . off.
She glances away, back to the window again.
I glare at Sid. “And what is it you do?”
He moves closer, right in front of me. “I can help you.” He points the handle of his walking stick at me. It’s tipped by a clear ball with what looks like a pentagram inside. “Eric told me about you. Said you have several unique gifts. But I’m guessing these gifts feel more like curses, don’t they?”
My hands are shaking.
He motions to the audience. “Each of the souls you see here was living in hell until I found them. I pulled them from gutters and padded cells and foster homes and helped them learn to use their gifts. To accept who they are. And now they’re lights in the dark places, keeping us connected to the spiritual world like beacons, and earning a living helping others.”
Connor clears his throat. “It’s true.”
Sid moves over to Connor’s side and pats him on the shoulder in a way that looks like he truly admires the young man. “Connor was once on the streets,” Sid says quietly, “selling drugs and living in a very dark place. Now he’s able to use his gift to help others, to help himself out of the dark. Just by seeing the places an object has been. Very useful. He’s already reunited a family with their lost child since he’s been with us. He’s a hero now.”
Jax pipes in, pointing to the Hispanic girl, “Holly dreams about dead people. Like that kid in The Sixth Sense.”
Holly spins her head, her ponytail whacking against her cheek, and glares a hole through Jax’s head, obviously not happy about the revelation of her gift. “And all you can do is tell if it’s gonna rain, dumbass.”
Sid holds out a hand to Jax as if trying to calm the waters. “Every gift is important in its own right. From Kara’s sensory skills to Lester’s very useful ability to channel spirits, or Connor’s object reading, Jax’s sky predictions, and Holly’s budding dreams.”
I glance at Finger. He’s the only one who hasn’t been mentioned. Maybe his gift is focusing, because the kid hasn’t looked away from the TV since we all gathered in his domain.
Sid taps his cane again and points it at me. “And now you’ve come to me. I’ll ask again: Do you need help?”
I take a deep breath, then plunge. “I need a job. I need a place to stay. Not just for me, for my little sister, too. Someplace safe.”
Sid frowns at that. “Your sister.” Eric must not have mentioned Ava. Of course, I barely ever say anything about her. Maybe he forgot I have a sister.
“She’s with a foster family right now, but they don’t take good care of her, and she’s getting scared. I can’t leave her with them.” Can’t tell him too much, or there’s no way I’ll get what I need from these people. No one wants a girl living under their roof who’s the target of demons.
Sid takes in a deep breath and lets it out slowly, then says, “No, I suppose not. But you and your sister must each bring something to the table if you’re going to earn your way. Food and shelter aren’t free.”
“My sister’s just a kid.”
“So are you. What can she contribute?”
I sigh. There’s no way I can tell them the truth about that. “She can’t do anything.”
“His sister’s just a blank,” Connor says. “Can we really afford the dead weight right now?”
Sid eyes me, ignoring Connor’s comment. “Well, what can you do with us to provide for her?”
I conside
r my options. Hanna seemed to think I could trust this guy. I can at least tell him what Eric knows, since Eric probably already spilled the beans on that score. “I can see things. Ghosts and demons and shit.”
Jax whistles low. “Nice.”
The others gape. Except Kara. She’s got a terrified expression on her face.
Sid frowns. “You see them?”
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?” I don’t know why, but I’m suddenly getting irritated. Why is Kara looking at me like that? Her hands clench into fists.
Sid has his car salesman face on again. “What else?”
“What, that’s not enough?” I laugh. Then I realize Eric probably told him about my talent with languages. “I know Latin and Hebrew. And a little Ancient Greek.” I shrug. And Aramaic and Anglo-Saxon and a bunch of others I have no clue what they are.
He’s frowning at my hand again. “You can see them. With your human eyes . . .” He hesitates then asks quickly, “Are they a blur? Shadows?”
I shake my head. “Living color.”
He stares at me with such intensity that my pulse begins to race.
“Do you know what that means?” he asks.
The growing excitement in his voice sets a warning off in my gut.
I swallow and say no. And I’m pretty sure from that giddy look on his face I don’t want to know.
He takes my hand, turns it over in his, studies my markings, the bite. “I’m assuming the demon that did this was corporeal?”
I snatch it back. “What? No.”
His head jerks back. “No? Are you saying the creature was still on the other side of the Veil and yet it somehow bit you?”
My teeth clench at the memory and at the realization that I didn’t want that piece of information known yet.
“Did you fight it off? You did, didn’t you?”
“What the hell difference does it make?” It’s suddenly getting harder to breathe. Because I know it makes a difference. A huge difference.
Sid shakes his head, looking almost awed. “You made physical contact with the other side.” And then he says, almost as if to himself, “How else could you have done that unless you exist on both planes?”
My chest constricts in fear.
The bodies in the room stir.
Sid’s voice grows a little stronger. “That’s why you can see them. Unlike Kara, you must have one foot on the other side of the Veil. A part of your soul is on this side, and a part is on the other. You’re between.” He smiles suddenly, brilliantly, as if he just discovered the next big Internet craze that’ll make him millions. “That’s a lot of power, boy. A lot. You may have talents you haven’t realized yet.”
In-between. Like Ava said this morning. “You’re insane.” I say it because I want it to be true, but I know he’s right. I just wish I knew what it meant.
“Did you give yourself that mark?” he asks, pointing to my hand.
“No. I’ve always had it. I don’t even know what it is.” And it’s growing now, apparently.
“You should move in as soon as possible!” he shouts, making me jump. “Don’t hesitate!” Then he says under his breath, “This house is protected and hidden from anything that would want to harm you from the spirit world. I have done my due diligence in keeping it covered in wards. You will have no worries anywhere you stand on this property. Stay! And bring your sister as well. Today.”
“Today?” A second ago I was figuring I’d have to bargain for a chance to prove myself.
The others look surprised, too.
“We need to make sure you remain in one piece. If the demons find you out, you’ll be in bits before sunset.” Sid points at Kara. “She’ll take you to gather your things and your sister. I’ll let Connor or Jax fill you in on the house rules.” He leaves the room, whistling as he goes out the back door.
The others stare at me. I can only stare back, trying to get my head together.
I’m moving in. With Ava. My sister will be safe, and with me.
That’s all I can focus on right now. Everything else feels too overwhelming. It wasn’t something about the demon that made it able to bite me, it was something about me. So it won’t just be that demon. It could be any demon. That could bite me. Claw me.
Kill me.
“We should get going,” Kara says, snapping me back.
I look over at her and realize the others have wandered off. It’s just her and me and Finger in the room. He’s still hypnotized by his game.
“I’m fine,” I mumble. “I don’t need you to come.” I head for the front door.
She follows after me. “Sid says I go, so I go.” Even though she says it, she doesn’t seem too sure. There’s a skittishness in her wide-open gaze as she looks at me now, and she’s not getting too close.
I stop before opening the door. “Really, you don’t have to be around me. I can see you’re freaked.”
And she doesn’t even know it all.
Imagine how she’d look at me if she knew I could smell her fear in the air, a slight burnt tinge, or see the evidence of every sex partner she’s ever had on her skin. She’d run screaming in the other direction.
“I’m not freaked,” she says, swallowing. A red spark reflects in her eye.
I raise my brow at her.
“Okay, I’m a little freaked.” She grunts. “I’ll get over it.”
I shake my head. “Fine, come if you want. But know that I can tell when you’re lying.”
She gapes at me again, but follows. If she thinks I’m scary, it’ll be interesting to see her reaction when she meets Ava.
EIGHT
It turns out that when Sid said Kara should go with me, he meant she’d drive me. She waves for me to follow her through the kitchen, out the back door, across a long yard. We walk on a dirt pathway through tall weeds—obviously Sid is more concerned with the way the house looks from the front than from the back. A few cans of paint are stacked up beside an old bed frame that rests against a shed.
Earlier, Connor said something about Sid going out to “the shed” to do something. My feet slow a little as I study the small structure. Three heavy padlocks latch it tight, and there’s a small circular symbol of power in red paint at the center of the whitewashed door. It’s a symbol I don’t recognize, but I know instantly that it’s a lock all its own—an anchor, keeping everything inside the structure tied to this plane. Grounded. What the hell would that be needed for?
My mouth goes dry as realization settles in. Casting. Casting magic is performed in that crooked shack. I can’t tell from here what type of power is being used, but my stomach feels uneasy anyway.
Kara shouts from the end of the yard, “We need to get this done.”
I turn away from the questions I don’t want to ask about my new benefactor and follow Kara into the garage.
It takes several seconds for my eyes to adjust to the dark. When they do, my jaw drops at the two gorgeous, shiny cars and the motorcycle.
Kara walks beside the closest vehicle, a sleek black Camaro—probably a ’67 or ’68.
I can’t help smiling as I take it in. “This is your car?”
“I wish.” She pets the hood, her fingers sliding along the new paint job.
Once we get in, it’s obvious the whole thing’s been refurbished, from the leather bucket seats to the eight-track player holding a blue tape that says The Carpenters on one side.
My smile grows as we back out of the garage, the engine rumbling around us. I don’t have to walk, or skate, or ride the heinous bus. It’s perfection. I call Ava, but she doesn’t answer. My guess is that she’s still at her music lessons. I hang up without leaving a message and text her a zero. She’ll know that means I’m on my way to find her: time’s up.
“My sister’s in the summer arts program at Saint Catharine’s Academy,” I say. T
he Carpenters in the tape deck are singing about birds and love. “Is there something else to listen to? Do you maybe have anything from this millennium?”
Kara snorts. “Wow. Bashing the jam. Not cool, sir.” She pops the eight-track tape out, silencing the groovy bell-bottom orgy. “For your information, Betsy runs better with The Carpenters in her deck.”
“Betsy. The car has a name.”
Kara pulls into the traffic and puts an earbud back in. “Every car has a name. You just have to find it.”
I laugh. “Really. What’s that one’s name?” I point at a white van ahead of us.
She shakes her head. “You can’t seriously expect me to know a stranger’s name. I’d have to hang with the thing, get to know it.”
I watch her profile, the way her chin juts as she speaks, like she’s defending her gift of naming cars. “I see,” I say, deciding to play along. “I’m not a car, but maybe you can guess my name.” ’Cause, weirdly enough, I realize it hasn’t come up yet, not even during that whole meeting with Sid.
She looks sideways at me, like she didn’t realize it either until I mentioned it.
“I know we haven’t really hung out yet,” I say, “but we have, um . . . connected.”
She smirks—almost a smile.
It’s quiet for a second. Then I say, “So it’s more of a vehicular naming power, then?”
She stays silent, but her smirk is definitely a smile now, and warmth fills my fingers and toes with my accomplishment.
“If you can’t do it, it’s fine,” I say, “but at least admit it.”
“I’m leaning toward Asshat. Am I close?”
I laugh. “You’ve got the first letter right.”
“Points for me.”
I see she’s not going to ask, so I say, “It’s Aidan. Aidan O’Linn.”
“I was feeling a lion, actually,” she says. “Well, several of them. For your name. I was gonna say Daniel.” She glances sideways at me again. “Like Daniel in the lions’ den.”
My skin tingles. “Daniel,” I repeat under my breath. My mom painted that scene on my bedroom wall when I was little. She painted me in the den, lions surrounding me, Daniel a shadowy figure off in the distance. I always wondered why she drew him like that.
Darkness Brutal (The Dark Cycle Book 1) Page 6
