by Iyanna Orr
“Yes, it still works. What do you think I do all day?” she snorted. He didn’t bother to answer because as far as he was concerned, he barely cared what she did all day. One thing Chandler did know was that she wasn’t always like this and, probably, didn’t clean and sing show tunes. Still, he smiled, somewhat twistedly and shook his head.
“If you say so. Keys still in the kitchen?”
“Of course,” she said, standing. His mom considered the fire some more, her eyes growing distant. “I’m going to get some sleep. Don’t stay out too late.”
She walked away. In the dim glow of the fire, Chandler watched. The smile slipped from his lips as he thought of all the times she’d been this way; that he had a mom who cared and worried and joked and was okay with him leaving the house without hosting an inquisition. This side of her never lasted long, but Chandler still wished that some change would turn her back into the mom that he knew.
When he heard her door close, he stood up, picked up his jacket and looked into the fire. His eyes adjusted quickly, and he watched the flames burn through the already charred logs. Chandler sucked in a quick breath, held it, and then blew it out slowly. The air inside the house began to move, picking up speed and extinguishing the fire. Then Chandler was suffused in darkness, and he turned, walking through it up to his room.
After taking a quick shower, he made his way into his room. For the short walk, he kept his wings loose but tucked them against his back so they would be less noticeable if his mom were wandering in the dark. As he turned to close the door, he felt a smooth brush on his wing and spun around quick enough to catch the lamp hurtling toward the floor. Setting it back on his bedside table, he paused when he heard the tiny sound of the television playing downstairs. Frowning, he folded back his wings, grimacing at the sudden confinement. Pulling on another shirt, he grabbed his jacket and left his room, swinging it over his shoulders.
“Mom?” he called. “You down there?”
There was no answer, but he put his jacket in place, reaching back to feel if his wings were contained. Then he made his way around, opening the curtains and casting curious glances at the television as commercials flickered over the screen. The light came in from the outside, but Chandler knew that they would have disappeared by the time he left. Chandler collapsed on the couch and then straightened as the news blared into existence with the gaudy crime theme.
“Just hours ago, Elias Lorenzo, an active member of the criminal organization, the Marks, was sentenced to nine life sentences to be served consecutively. We remember Lorenzo from his arraignment, in which he pleaded not guilty to nine counts of aggravated first-degree murder. A year and a half ago, Lorenzo was arrested as the primary suspect in the investigation of a plane crash in which Congressman Heath Hunter, with his wife and children, ages seven, five and two, were heading to their vacation home in Hawaii. All on board perished with the family, including the pilot, co-pilot, and two attendants.
“At the conclusion of his arraignment, it was reported here that Lorenzo fired his court-appointed attorney, Leslie Hammond; the woman whose interview revealed that she’d pressed for Lorenzo to plead guilty. The attorney hired to replace Hammond was Thomas Johnson, a man renowned for his unmatched proficiency in winning cases. Thomas’ involvement with the known Marks associate was questioned, yet he remained on the payroll of Lorenzo and was by his side as the judge sentenced him.
“Minutes after leaving the courthouse, Johnson was assaulted. Both Johnson and the attacker have been taken into FBI custody. Reporting live…”
Chandler turned down the television and stared at the video footage of Tommy and another man, handcuffed, being escorted into separate black SUVs. Suddenly, what Layla had said to him at lunch made sense. He pulled his phone from his pocket, planning to call Rory, but stopped, wondering if he might still be at the party. After looking at the time, Chandler leaned his head back against the couch and waited.
Lifting his head, Chandler looked at him with something akin to disgust.
He and Layla had been at the party for hours now, and it had yet to show signs of slowing or stopping. He was sitting on an out of place couch in the middle of the large barn that most of the school had taken over for the night. His hands were clenched in his pockets as he fought against the stench that was building in the closed confines of the room. He hadn’t seen Layla in more than an hour, and Rory had never shown up.
Pulling his phone from his pocket, he unlocked it and pressed the speed dial for Rory. It rang in his ear, but Chandler waited until the ringing had stopped and the voicemail picked up before he hung up. He stood with a grunt and pressed his wings tighter against his back, hoping the discomfort would somehow remove him from the situation. He brought his arms tightly against his sides as he pushed through his drunken classmates, hopefully making his way to the door. The light had reached him before he realized he’d found a way out. Chandler breathed a lot better away from the fumes of alcohol and sweat. He shook his head in the new air and ran his hands through his hair, pushing it out of his eyes.
With his nose and mind cleared, Chandler could think. Whatever was happening between himself and Rory had to have come from some uncertainty on his part and Rory’s. Chandler wasn’t afraid to admit that friendships, to him personally, were touch-and-go. Even though Rory had stuck around and dealt with him for so long, Chandler was still waiting for him to walk away. The team had been full of friends, but they were only temporary. They were the kind of people you bond with over a common interest. Other than the game, they had nothing to talk about. He and Rory did have a real friendship. If he wanted to keep that, the two of them had an issue that needed to be addressed.
“What are you doing out here?” a voice asked. Chandler turned to see Chris watching him from the doorway. Chandler turned back away and shrugged, hands stuffed into his pockets. “The party’s inside, Dixon.” Chris laughed, coming to stand beside him. “You should be in there getting wasted with the rest of us.”
“You don’t look so wasted to me,” Chandler answered.
“That’s true, mostly because I’m allergic to alcohol,” he explained. “I just carry one around to keep the rest from bothering me about it.”
“I don’t see the point,” Chandler said absently. “High school isn’t about getting wasted.”
“Maybe. Seriously, what are you doing out here? Layla’s been waiting inside for the last half hour.”
“She’ll have more fun without me.” Chandler laughed humorlessly. He looked over at Chris and felt the half smile fall from his face. “You saw Rory around?” Chris stooped and put the beer bottle on the grass with a soft thud. He signed heavily as he stood back up and looked at Chandler. There was a guarded and tentative look in Chris’ eye.
“You didn’t hear?”
“About what?”
“Lorenzo… I take it you heard about him? He escaped police custody when he was being transported. But he talks a lot and before they were killed, the police were able to radio for backup. The FBI are taking Rory and his family somewhere they can keep them safe.” Chris turned away and stared hard at the main house up the hill. “Rory was on the way to the party when he texted Joey and told him that he wasn’t going to be able to make it. We saw it on the news a few minutes later.”
“When did they leave?” Chandler asked.
“By the time Rory got home, I assume.” Chris shrugged, bent down to pick up the beer bottle, and then turned for the door. “Rory found out you were coming to the party. He was trying to talk to you when he got here. After he’d gone home, he called and told Joey to tell you something. But since I’m here, it might as well be me.
“You won’t be able to reach him on his cell or his parents’. The FBI was having them cut off as soon as they all met. He doesn’t know when he’ll be back or if they’ll be able to come back, so he said he was sorry and that you would know what it was for.” Chris looked at Chandler as if waiting for an explanation, but he shook his head and s
tared at the house. Chris sighed. “They dropped Dane off at your house on the way to the airport.”
Chris walked back, and Chandler listened with hollow ears as the door opened, spilling out light and music. When the door closed, Chandler pulled out his phone and called again, feeling his heart race in his chest. Again, it went to voicemail. Then, he heard the beep of a message. Pulling the phone from his pocket, Chandler saw, between the chair legs casting dark shadows, the figure Rory, tied up and bloody.
Chapter 3 – Rescued
The front door was wide open, and every light was on in the house. Across the street, Chandler hung onto a tree hidden behind the foliage of those in front of him, but even from that place, he couldn’t see inside. He could hear seven different heartbeats, and even without seeing, he knew the most erratic of them all were Rory and his family. None of the people inside the house were moving, but the distinct sound of a conversation floated from the master bedroom to Chandler.
“Lorenzo isn’t even here,” a man hissed. “We were supposed to meet him, not the other way around.” He was quiet for a moment, and then, his voice was back like a whiplash. “I don’t give a damn about whatever beef he had with these people! As far as I’m concerned, Lorenzo can burn, but if he isn’t here in the next hour, then I’m killing them. We’ve been here far too long already, even with the connections we have inside their protection detail.” The phone was hung up, and then the man was moving. He was an angry storm pacing along Johnson’s hallway and running down the stairs.
The three others were moving, and all four gathered together at the foot of the stairs.
“So?” another voice asked.
“We’re supposed to stay here until Lorenzo says otherwise,” the man from the phone growled. As he continued, Chandler dropped from the branch and walked across the street, carefully avoiding the black truck sitting in the driveway. Walking around it, he proceeded quietly up the steps onto the porch and slipped inside, closing the screen door silently behind him. When Chandler turned around, sitting back to back, and wrapped together around the torso, were Tommy and Renee. Across them, tied to his chair and bloody, was Rory. Despite the ease in which they could see the front door, it took a few seconds for the three of them to notice Chandler was here. In their eyes, there was a surprise, but then there was a careful guardedness Chandler didn’t understand.
Keeping a close eye on the doorway leading to the staircase, Chandler walked toward Rory. Chandler hesitated when he saw Rory lean away, his eyes moving past Chandler to look over his shoulder. A loud bang jerked both of their heads up to the doorway, but it was Chandler’s eyes that the man clenching the phone caught. In his eyes was something like the looks Rory and his parents shared as they’d looked at Chandler.
It only took him a few moments to get over his surprise, though, and he reached back, pulling out a gun that he whipped back around to point at Chandler. Chandler didn’t falter as he charged the man, jumping over the coffee table separating the two of them. The man yelled something to the others as Chandler crashed into him, his hand gripping his wrist and twisting. He screamed as the gun dropped to the floor. As the others came charging through the door, Chandler kicked his knees out from under him and shoved him in their direction.
Chandler didn’t wait to race back to tear Rory’s hands from the bindings.
“Untie them, then get out of here,” Chandler ordered Rory. He was grabbed from behind and thrown backward. Chandler stumbled back against a wall, ducking when a fist came flying at his head. The hit meant for Chandler tore through the wall and trapped the man. Chandler walked around him, sending a kick to his knees. He fell to the floor, and his hand was freed, but he didn’t go for Chandler as he grasped at his wounded leg. Chandler was about to turn and check on the Johnsons when blinding light erupted behind his eyes. He screamed as the pain raced through his back and ripped up his spine. Chandler’s head pounded as he dropped to his knees, mouth still open in a silent scream of agony.
Chandler knew there was something he should be doing, but his mind wouldn’t focus. It only surrounded the pain coming from his wings, a harsh feeling amplified somehow by the chilled metal pressed against his temple. Chandler barely fought as he was yanked to his feet and a command was shouted. Whoever held him didn’t let up until an explosion sounded in the house. The cold metal was gone, but Chandler collapsed to the ground. The pain was fading, yet it was still too sharp to fight through. Chandler struggled halfway to his feet.
Nearby was another explosion, and a different pain erupted in his back. Chandler fell backward, the feeling becoming unbearable as he knocked against the table and bounced to the floor. His eyes snapped wide, and he watched the ceiling until Rory crouched down beside him. Rory stared at Chandler’s stomach, where he could feel the blood soaking his clothes and skin. Rory’s hands pressed down tightly, and Chandler felt himself struggling to breathe against the heaviness in his lungs. The light in the room had at one point been bright, but it seemed so dull now as it faded, moving farther away from where Chandler’s eyes could see.
There was liquid in his lungs; his body. As Chandler pulled in a deeper breath, it made a pathetic sound, and he started coughing. He was going to die here with Rory screaming his name and Rory’s parents unaccounted for. Chandler knew if he’d just been a little more careful, he would’ve been able to save them. He heard paws moving back and forth, coming into the room. Chandler wanted to move; to save them.
As he struggled with consciousness, Rory’s hands disappeared, and his voice faded.
Chandler didn’t know what he expected death to be like, but it was far from peaceful. He was swimming in a darkness that wouldn’t stop moving. There was no up or down, left or right. The place was simply alive. He imagined there were whispers here, but when he stopped to listen close, he couldn’t hear a thing. Chandler blinked against the darkness, and when his eyes opened again, everything was faintly red. He raised his hands and rubbed his eyes hard before opening them. The light that was shining in his eyes almost blinded him, and as he snapped his head away, a hiss echoed through his teeth.
His body screamed with the pain that seemed to fill every dark corner. He could feel a throbbing in his arms and legs that matched perfectly to the over paced beating of his heart. Chandler relaxed his head, somewhat relieving the pounding in it, even as his body began to inch away from the thing that had blinded him. Suddenly, there was something large and warm pressed against him. He was on his feet in less than a second, pressing himself closely to a tree and snapping open his eyes to glare at the thing he’s rolled into.
Chandler’s confusion was slow to recede as he took in Dane staring at him from the ground, panting loudly. The dog wasn’t at all bothered by the darkness that dominated wherever they were, but then again, there was a flashlight beam swinging over the ground. A few seconds later, Chandler looked up from Dane and locked his eyes on the three figures standing together.
Before he could begin to formulate a question or explanation, Chandler was already sweeping the area with senses that he stretched as far as they could go. He knew they weren’t far away from the house, and he could hear the distant sirens making their way closer.
“We need to get to the trees,” he said without thinking.
“Chandler—”
“Just go,” Chandler ordered. “The police are coming.”
Rory opened his mouth to continue speaking, but Tommy grabbed his shoulder and turned him towards the dark. The man was still watching Chandler, eyes and expression guarded; keeping something in or out. Chandler turned away from him and whistled for Dane. He picked himself up from the ground and ran off into the trees after Renee and Rory. Tommy turned and went after Chandler gave an impatient gesture.
Chandler caught up with them and dragged Rory away from the snake’s den he was nearing. Releasing Rory, Chandler led them farther, his mind racing with no destination in mind. He could feel the weight of their eyes resting on his back, making the dark feathers rus
tle in instinctive agitation. Chandler had been expecting them to be following, so when he turned to tell them that they would just wait out the night at his house, he stopped short and pivoted fully. After a long few, tense seconds, Chandler walked back toward the family standing firmly where they’d been. Rory was holding his parents back, but Dane had taken to circling the gathering, watching the confrontation with little interest.
“You were dead,” Rory stated loudly. Renee and Tommy exchanged looks at his side. Absently, Chandler noticed that the blood had been cleaned from Rory’s face, but it remained to stain his clothes. The fabric looked dry and showed obvious signs of the dried blood cracking.
“We don’t have time right now,” Chandler said, wiping his thoughts away. Rory’s eyes swung to stare at the feathers that always peeked over Chandler’s shoulder. “We need to get out of here before the cops show up.” Chandler jerked his thumb in the direction of the house, where he could just see the lights shining out the back door. Rory stared at him for a few more moments before he crossed his arms and looked away.
“Where are we going?” Tommy asked calmly. Renee put a hand on her son’s shoulder and then leaned up to whisper something to him.
“I think we need to go someplace to wait out the night,” Chandler sighed, leaning against the trunk of a tree. “In the morning, you can all head to the police station; try to explain to them what all of this is about. But—” Chandler huffed a breath, looking down at the ground, then back up again. “But I think you’d better leave me out of it.”
Rory was watching him, but he turned his eyes toward the house, where the police lights were brighter than ever, but their group was far enough away that the sirens weren’t much except background noise.
“Leave you out?” Rory scoffed. “You’re the entire reason we got out of the house. So why don’t you just try and find a way to explain some of this,” he said, gesturing at Chandler. Chandler turned his head and listened the cops entering the Johnson’s house. There was a radio call for backup.
