by Ruby Raine
“For a long time it was very difficult to find anything positive in my life,” said Lucas. “And I don’t pretend to be an expert on the subject, but for me, I look for just one good thing to focus on. The shit doesn’t just go away, but if I can remember that one positive thing, it helps me manage the rest of it.”
“So what positive thing are you thinking about right now?” she asked him, desperate to find one thing she could grasp onto, and focus on.
“Um,” he stalled.
“It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me.”
“No, I just don’t want you to take it the wrong way.”
“I won’t,” she promised.
“I was actually focusing on how pleasant it’s been to get to know you. The circumstances bringing us together suck, but hanging out with you is still a positive about this day.”
“Oh,” she said, her cheeks blushing. She couldn’t help but take it the wrong way, just a little bit. It was becoming clear to her that the Deane brothers were not only perceptive, but devilishly charming as well. He was right though. Having him there had made the day better. Survivable even. She didn’t vocalize that though.
“Only you can find the positive in all the negatives,” Lucas went on. “But if you keep that good thought at the forefront of all others, rather than all the shit you cannot control, it brings a little more balance back in. Evens things out a little. I don’t know if I’m explaining it very well.”
“No. I get your point,” she said. “Get it... don’t know if I can do it.”
“You seem calmer now,” he noted.
“I suppose I am.”
Riley’s shouting grew louder and more frenzied.
“If this doesn’t end soon, I may have to take back everything I just said,” Lucas exclaimed. “He is getting worse by the minute.”
“Spiraling,” said Melinda. There was no positive good enough to keep her from panicking. The sun dipped below the trees, the moon rising up.
Her vision had taken place in the dark.
Was it tonight? Were they too late?
No, Riley is still safely locked up. She pleaded and prayed silently that she’d done enough to keep the vision from taking place. That her family was safe. That William would not be tortured. William... she still had not told him that Riley’s rage was aimed at him. Stop. Just stop. I had the vision to stop it. We found Riley. We’ll fix him. None of it will happen now.
Melinda and Lucas gasped.
The sounds of a snorting inhale and exhale escaped from something close by.
With eyes open wide, they turned around to see the gargoyle perched in front of the porch, shaking itself into life. The one still on the ground, not completely out of its crate shook mightily, easily breaking its remaining bonds.
Josh and his father, Earl, watched it happen, stunned to see it.
They’d run out of time. The moon had risen. The gargoyles had come to life.
Melinda took a few steps down the porch stairs, in awe. The gargoyle on the ground sniffed the air as if smelling her. She reached over to the leftover food tray and grabbed a donut, extending her arm, unsure whether that was brave or stupid. It ignored her and backed into the shadows of the trees lining the front yard, its silhouette disappearing into obscurity.
She was lowering her arm when the perched gargoyle jumped down, landing much softer than she expected it would. For such a bulky creature it was light-footed. It sniffed her hand, glanced up at her with a gaze that spoke to her, silently. This creature was intelligent. And curious. But also kind and trustworthy. It tickled her fingers with its lips, tasting the donut.
She let out a low chuckle. “This is so weird. William said they wouldn’t be like pets, but...”
The gargoyle lifted its head and nudged her hand. She rubbed its floppy-skinned cheek, surprised at how soft its rough looking skin felt. It looked up wearing a wide grin, not unlike a big happy puppy.
“That just looks so wrong,” Lucas said from behind her.
The cleaners could do nothing but nod in astonished agreement. They’d never seen anything like it.
“I guess you guys can go,” said Melinda. “Looks like we’re good here.”
Josh and Earl started packing up.
Melinda jumped when the gargoyle’s broad head shot up, a low growl escaping from its lips. It bounded up the porch stairs squeezing through the door into the mansion. Its head lifted into the air and it let out a sound unlike anything they’d heard before. It was part growl and part honking. Before Melinda could blink, the three other gargoyles were responding in the distance.
“I wonder if everyone on the Isle can hear them,” Melinda asked. She was much more concerned though, over why it entered the house and was making so much noise.
The gargoyle stopped, unable to fit through the kitchen door. It did not force itself through, but instead pointed its head at the basement. Melinda and Lucas stared at each other. Was it warning them? Was it Riley? Did the gargoyles sense him as evil? Were they too late to save him?
They raced down the basement stairs to the venomous rants spewing out of Riley’s mouth, which consisted of all the ways he planned on torturing William. It stopped abruptly. Mid-sentence.
Lucas grabbed the key to unlock the cell door only to freeze upon it swinging open. It wasn’t Riley the gargoyle was warning them about.
A Feyk stood behind Riley casting a grin so reviling it shot a cold snap from Melinda’s head to her toes. She raised her palm and shot off a spell meant to knock the Feyk into the wall. He popped out too fast, a plume of smoke in his wake. Her spell slammed into a bookcase instead.
The Feyk popped back in again, this time, taking hold of Riley in his chair, using him as a shield. Riley’s head was leaning forward, his bonds still secure. It looked like the Feyk had knocked him out.
Melinda hesitated. Unsure of her aim.
“Please let him go,” begged Lucas. “What do you want with him?”
“Undo whatever spell you cast on him,” demanded Melinda.
“Why would I free him when he’s just now ripe?”
The Feyk had been waiting.
Biding their time, waiting for Riley to reach the perfect level of rage.
The Feyk’s body dissolved into smoke, taking Riley with him.
Melinda covered her face with her hands, shaking her head in disbelief over what had just happened. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. Shit. This is not happening. This did not just happen. “What is it you were just saying Lucas, about not everything can go bad all at once?”
He glowered in agreement. “If I ever try to give you advice again, just remind me I have no idea what the hell I’m talking about.”
The gargoyle was still inside the mansion, now making a terrible ruckus. Melinda bounded up the stairs to see what was happening. As soon as she made it up, the gargoyle vacated the house waiting on the front porch, chirping as if trying to tell her something. It went down a couple stairs and stopped, still chirping.
“Is it telling us to follow him?” questioned Lucas.
“I think it is.” She had not expected to be able to communicate with the gargoyles.
“Should we?”
“They sense evil. Maybe they can track it too. Maybe they can show us where the Feyk took Riley.”
Lucas was glad he’d driven his brother’s motorcycle back from the quarry. He grabbed Melinda’s hand and they raced to it, hopping on. They didn’t bother with the helmets, letting them fall to the ground. He kick-started the bike roaring out of the driveway, ignoring the stares of the cleaners as they tore off to follow the gargoyle.
They flew through the town, taking a turn down a darker, less lit road, the shadow of the gargoyle in hot pursuit of the Feyk. It was hard to see it, but the gargoyle made itself known to them so they could follow more easily. And yet it remained unseen by any unsuspecting eye. A shadow moving in the darkness.
Melinda dug out her phone and dialed Charlie.
He answered. “Hey, Sis. Just
got back onto land, what’s...”
“Charlie! The Feyk took Riley.”
No reply.
“We’re chasing after one of the gargoyles. I think they can track the Feyks. We’re following on the motorcycle, Lucas and me. Hoping to find out where they took Riley.”
“Okay,” Charlie finally replied. “Um, where are you right now?” He tried to remain calm, but was not thrilled that his sister was chasing the Feyk, especially with a guy who didn’t use magic and could not protect her. And all on a motorcycle while following a gargoyle. Following a gargoyle? She’s chasing after a gargoyle. God, our lives are beyond strange.
“We just went by the ferry landing downtown.”
Charlie was about to order her as calmly as possible to turn around and go home, and they could do this together, later, when he heard her shout and the line went dead.
“Ah, shitballs!” Melinda shouted. She’d lost her grip on the phone as they bounced over a pothole. It smashed against a rock.
“Sorry,” exclaimed Lucas.
“Hazard of the job. Second phone I’ve broken this summer though. Brothers are not going to be happy about that.” She could see Charlie’s face right now, freaking out that the line had gone dead.
“I’m having a hard time keeping up,” Lucas shouted back. The gargoyle took them down the road leading to White Pines. If nothing panned out, Melinda decided they’d stop and check in with Michael and Lizzy, believing them still guarding the old tree.
The gargoyle picked up speed.
Lucas did the same.
Melinda grabbed hold tight as they followed its monstrous silhouette under the silvery moonlight.
EVA JORDAN PACED IMPATIENTLY. She had brought the Feyk precariously close to the doorway leading to the power source, but kept them in a gully not too far away, hunkered down as they waited for the cover of darkness. Which had now descended.
Although feeling better, she still could not use her shifting ability. It wasn’t a spell the Feyk could remove, at least that’s what the Feyk claimed. It would take at least another day to wear off.
Her body was feeling physically stronger, but still not up to par. Her strength was barely more than a human woman of her size.
She didn’t have the advantage of a quicker healing solution, like vampires did. They could heal themselves with human blood. Not instantly, if the injury was severe enough, but much faster than a werewolf could.
It wasn’t fair, she often thought. Their bites were poisonous to each other, their blood paralyzing, and yet when it came to healing, vampires had it way easier.
She had no fast cure, only time to let her werewolf body heal itself.
All that considered, it was far better than being dead.
Sir Tinkham Sickereaux, otherwise called Stricker, was getting on her nerves again. He wanted to know where the door was, and she kept telling him she wanted proof that the vampire would suffer and die.
She’d done more than her share at this point and wanted to see some results for her efforts.
One of Stricker’s partners in crime popped in out of nowhere, taking a deep bow.
“Yes,” slithered Stricker.
“Good news. We broke the magic the witch performed on the lighthouse doors and the Soul Hunter has left the Isle. Our magic didn’t last long, the doors are shut once again, but it stayed open just long enough to complete the bargain.”
“Good, good,” replied Stricker. “It’s all in motion.”
“Not everything,” reminded Eva.
“Not to fret my shifty friend. Our... your... vampire killer will be here any minute.” Stricker made an irritated sound when someone sniffled nearby. He spun around and peered into an iron cage, closed with a hefty lock. “Humans,” he muttered with a shudder. “Always so emotional.”
Eva stepped over to the cage, a cold stare peering down at their new prisoner. “A father for a father.” Her gaze lifted to Stricker. “But I won’t be satisfied until the vampire is ash.”
The prisoner’s only response was sobbing. Stricker, sick of listening to it, slipped his fingers through the bars of the cage and touched the prisoner’s head. The sobbing stopped and the prisoner slumped over, unconscious.
WILLIAM WHISKED INTO the Morgan home, having no idea what to expect after hearing the nauseating scream of Emily through her phone. He stopped in an instant, listening for anyone or anything still present in the house.
He heard nothing. He stepped cautiously through the living room and into the kitchen. Signs of a struggle were rampant. A knocked over lamp. A broken vase. Food in the kitchen, spilled onto the counter and the floor.
And then he smelled it.
Blood.
It was coming from the back of the house.
He swung open the back door and froze. There was a lifeless body on the ground.
“BREATHE, MICHAEL,” ordered Lizzy. His gaze shot to the side, his stare intense. No air reached his lungs, just shallow gasps in attempt. They’d stopped at a four-way intersection with a skid, almost missing the stop sign.
Lizzy flipped her head, looking at a motorcycle speeding down the opposite intersection. “Was that Lucas and Melinda? Whatever.”
Michael checked for traffic and was about to slam the gas pedal down when he released it. A siren came blaring up behind them, passing by. It was Mack. William must have called her. If his heart got any heavier, the weight of it would sink him.
They peeled out after the sheriff, following. They pulled into the Morgan’s driveway and before the truck had come to a complete stop, Michael jumped out, running to the door.
Mack met him and stopped him.
“Let me in,” he ordered breathlessly.
“I will, but first you should know...” Michael peered over her shoulder, straight through the house out the back door. William was pulling a sheet over a body.
Michael staggered backwards.
“It’s Mr. Morgan,” revealed Mack. William had told her over the phone.
“Em-Emily?” he got out in a coarse whisper.
“Missing.”
Mack stepped aside and let Michael through. He barely felt his legs moving underneath him. The next thing he knew he was falling to his knees next to Emily’s father’s body, staring blankly up at William.
“Stabbed. Through the heart.” He saw no point in lying or smoothing over what had happened. “He died quickly.” It was the only comfort he could offer. He looked away from Michael to see Lizzy at the back door, tears brimming in her eyes. Mack was inside, on the phone.
William reached down and grasped Michael’s shoulder to show his support, then left him alone to gather himself.
Lizzy followed him inside.
“Still excited to be human again?” William asked her, his voice stricken with pain.
“Death sucks,” Lizzy whispered. “Can’t escape it.” She shook her head. “I meant that it happens every day. It doesn’t make it any less of a suck fest.”
“On that, we agree,” said William.
Mack came over. “Any idea what really happened? Should I call the cleaners? Let my deputy handle it? Do I need to come up with a story that’s believable?”
Michael strode inside, his face sickly looking. “What happened, is Eva Jordan.”
“How do you know this?” questioned William.
“She left us a message.” He’d found Emily’s phone next to her father’s body. He held up the phone and pushed play on a video.
Lizzy had to turn away. She couldn’t watch.
Michael cringed as he listened to Emily begging Eva to spare her father, screaming in horror when Eva killed him in front of her.
“A father for a father,” Eva trolled sadistically. She waved into the camera as if recording a snippet of a fun summer party. It was a game to her. Child’s play.
Eva turned the camera on Emily, her deflated frame held up by two Feyks, one holding each of her arms. Tears mixed with blood, trickling down her cheeks. She had a cut below one of h
er eyes. Eyes that now looked dead and lifeless. Rather than bouncy and cheerful.
Eva grabbed hold of the Feyk and they dissolved into smoke, taking Emily with them.
Michael handed the phone to Mack. His brain numb. Unable to process what the hell was happening.
Lizzy could think of nothing comforting to say. This was a level of anguish and insanity she’d never dealt with before, during her human or ghastly years.
Even William had no words. Mr. Morgan’s life was the price of him not killing Eva when he’d had the chance. Each time he thought they were gaining the upper hand and about to fix everything, they were shot a mile backwards. Always playing defense. Eva’s vengeance over her father’s death, and her mother’s from years ago, now came with a hefty price tag. He’d never forgive himself for hesitating. He’d always regret not killing her when he had the chance.
An odd thing happened to Michael as his brain processed what had taken place. The numbness grew. Spreading. His senses shut down completely. No emotions. Not from Mack or Lizzy. He never got any from William, as he was a vampire, but he’d never had his empathy just shut down.
For this one moment, all he felt was a singular desire, something completely his own. “That evil fucking bitch is going to die, in an extreme way.”
William didn’t like hearing Michael say this. The hatred in his tone. The vengeful warning flicking off the edge of his tongue.
Although he agreed wholeheartedly.
But Michael didn’t kill just for the sake of killing, and there was a toxicity in his tone he’d never heard before. A raw desire for revenge. To cause harm. Not just to end what needed to be ended for the sake of the Isle, or for the greater good, but a desire to hurt.
It was a natural human response to what had happened. However, William feared he was losing his wards. That this battle would take them down a dark path, one difficult to recover from. One that would leave permanent scars.
Darkness was okay for him. It was his true nature. But not for the Howards.
“You guys better get out of here,” advised Mack. Her fight was all but gone. “No sense in dragging you all into this mess. You can’t do any good here. I’ll take care of Mr. Morgan. You... you go find Emily.”
