“You guys were the ones chopping, digging, and mowing all hours of the day,” the youngest Abbott playfully accuses, her voice lowered.
From the corner of her eye, Maggie sees Zoe flip her hair in frustration, turning with a huff toward the chalkboard.
“Nosey neighbors are the worst,” he teases.
“Really? I was going to say nosey blondes….” It’s an obvious dig toward Zoe, which doesn’t go unnoticed, her manicured nails digging into the desk’s battered surface.
A loud bell rings, and their English teacher enters. He’s older, near retirement if Maggie had to guess. Small in size with large glasses, salt-and-pepper hair, and a kind face. She thinks he says his name is Mr. Harris as he rattles off some sort of introduction, then instructs the students to take out a piece of paper.
Picking up her backpack from the concrete floor and unzipping it, she takes out a simple notebook and a floral pencil case.
West’s hand touches her wrist, sending a strong shock straight up her arm.
“Ouch!” she whispers, rubbing her shoulder and giggling. It is obvious, in more ways than one, that they have a spark.
“Sorry… Can I borrow a piece of paper, and a pen?”
“You have to be kidding,” Maggie states after a moment, realizing that West doesn’t have any sort of backpack or supplies.
Taking that pen once again from her desk, Maggie leans across and firmly plants it in front of him.
At this, they both break into giggles.
“Something funny?” inquires the teacher.
“No sir,” West states, confidently, accepting a piece of notebook paper from Maggie as well. The teacher’s intrusion forces both of them to face forward and pretend to listen, as their instructor wastes no time in doling out their first assignment.
Scribbling down the essay parameters, Maggie sneaks a quick glance over at West.
Adel would have liked West. Maybe not his tattoos, but Maggie recalled how her mother was slow to judge anyone. Her mother’s friends were diverse and unique—she didn’t discriminate, since her work opened her up to all sorts of personalities.
Orion, on the other hand, would probably have had a heart attack, knowing that his little girl was pursuing a miscreant of this sort. Grounding her and stating that she wasn’t allowed to date until college. Spouting the normal, generic, overprotective parental nonsense. Maggie often wondered if her behavior since their disappearance was a desperate cry for their return. That if she pushed the envelope, just enough, that maybe, just maybe, they would find her again.
She would give anything to be able to tell them both about this day.
And she realizes, for the first time since her parents, she is happy.
Chapter 10
Eve is miserable.
Smelling of burnt milk and ineptitude, her dress is ruined. Abandoning the bun entirely, her messy, dried, foam-filled hair sticks out in every direction. She needs a shower…and chocolate. Only a sugar high could temporarily distract her from the disaster that is her life.
Parked outside the high school, she finally spots Maggie heading down the steps, unusually chipper. At least one of them is having a good day.
Spotting Eve, she waves casually, unhurriedly strolling to the wagon. Maggie gets in, slams the door, takes one look at Eve, and snorts.
“Did you take a bath in coffee? Not that I’m complaining…you smell delicious!”
“Bertha hates me.”
“Bertha…who is she? And why do I like her already?”
As Eve exits the parking lot, Maggie scans the students…until her shoulders slump. No luck. Her disappointment in not seeing West again is tangible. They apparently only have first period together, and she was hoping to catch a final glimpse. Yes, they will see each other again tomorrow, but the anticipation is already driving her mad.
Thankfully, Eve is a welcome distraction as she divulges to Maggie all that has transpired. Walking into the café feeling confident, and walking out feeling like she had been run over. Twice.
“If we weren’t so broke, I would just tell you to quit. But I thank you for your sacrifice,” Maggie teases, trying to cheer her up but doing a poor job of it.
“There is one thing that I didn’t tell you….”
“And that is?”
“I met our new neighbors.”
Maggie’s palms slam onto the glovebox, thrilled.
“Me too! Well, I just met West! And what do you mean? All of them? Just two? Did they come into Jill’s? What did they say?”
Maggie’s questions are so numerous and rapid-fire that she only overwhelms Eve further. But her older sister tries her best to give her “the deets.”
“The other four. You met the youngest? West? We’ll come back to that. Okay, get this. Yes, they’re brothers. There’s Martin—he seems harmless, kind of nerdy. Rowan is way too into himself, the one with the braids? Total player. You. Avoid. That leaves…Tate, yuck, he’s a brute. Serious anger issues if you ask me. And…Luca.”
At his name, Eve pauses. For some reason, she doesn’t want to talk about him.
For now, Luca will be off-limits.
“Brothers? I told you! Oh my God, where to do I start? I mean, how do I choose just one?”
Maggie looks as if she might explode in excitement. Normally Eve would be horrified, but she finds herself wistful. A little bit of Maggie’s fire is back, and she doesn’t want to put it out with her judgmental nature.
“Jill? What did Jill say?” Maggie inquires, enraptured.
“Jill, well…not much. At least not until they left. It was so weird! She turned frigid when she walked in from the back and they were standing there. I mean, she was downright hostile! All she told me later—and trust me, I tried—is that our families went way back. They’re the Quinns, and apparently, we should stay away from them.”
“Did you tell her that might be kind of hard, seeing as they are literally shacked up in the shack next to our shack?”
“I failed to mention that,” Eve admits, pondering why she didn’t divulge that pertinent detail to Jill.
“Lips are sealed, big sis!”
Maggie makes a zipping motion over her mouth and continues.
“Did you tell Jill that we’re going to dig a hole and bury her stupid Dracula thing? That cutout creeps the hell out of me. Every time I go to the kitchen it’s just there.”
Eve chuckles, having forgotten about their cardboard guest.
“Yes! Apparently, she decorates the café every year for Halloween, and she wanted something that we wouldn’t miss seeing, with the sticky note. Agreed, though, she could have made a better choice….”
Eve falls silent, pondering her choices recently and wondering for the zillionth time if she could have made better ones. The girls arrive home and Maggie cooks dinner for once, picking up on Eve’s pure exhaustion. Nothing fancy, just canned spaghetti sauce and noodles with some semi-frozen meatballs (their arctic freezer being the likely culprit).
On the plus side—they finally have internet installed, and the speeds are somewhat respectable. It’s the one luxury they can afford, apart from a shared cellphone plan. Curling up on their drop cloth-covered couch, the girls prop Eve’s outdated laptop on a chair in front of them and watch an episode of some British show at Maggie’s request. The eldest Abbott feels significantly better after her shower and a half-cooked meal. She could have fallen asleep right there, on that under-stuffed sofa, lulled by foreign accents and the warmth of Maggie by her side.
But for some reason, she resists.
Instead, pulling the necklace tucked beneath her shirt out, she studies it once again. For some reason, this piece of jewelry—that possibly belonged to June—is giving her comfort. In a way, she relates the chain and the pendant to herself. A small, lost thing, hoping someday that someone will find her…and when they do, she hopes that she, like this necklace, will be treasured.
A low-battery warning invades the laptop screen, to Maggie’s protest
s. Checking the computer’s clock, Eve notes that it’s past ten. In order to be up early again tomorrow, she calls it a night, heading to her room. Splitting off on the second-floor landing, Maggie asks to borrow her laptop and charger, and Eve acquiesces. If Maggie wants to be exhausted for school tomorrow, that’s her choice. Eve has done enough parenting for one day.
Crawling into her new soft bed, no sooner does Eve’s head hit the pillow than she is fast asleep.
And dreaming.
I’m going to drown.
The circular tank that entraps me is filling.
Pounding my hands against the thick, transparent surface, the sound reverberates.
Blue lights in the floor.
Evenly spaced, like a grid, embedded in the concrete.
They too, are trapped. They too, will never leave this room.
I am crying.
Ink-colored tears, staining the watery surface.
Seeing my faint reflection in the glass, how I have changed.
My gray skin.
My gray eyes.
My gray soul.
Shackled.
I am shackled to the floor of my watery tomb.
They are to blame. I know they are watching.
I cannot see them, but I know they are there.
In the shadows.
Always waiting.
The water is now to my waist. Soon, it will be to my neck. It flows quicker, and quicker.
It caresses my chin.
I am going to die.
Today, this day, is my last.
My bitter sobs fall only on my ears.
And then, there is light.
“Wake up! Wake up, Eve, goddammit!” a gritty male voice screams in the darkness.
Her eyes fly open.
Chapter 11
Awake. Eve is awake and covered in a cold liquid.
Touching her bed, it’s drenched as well. But in what? Water?
Smoke fills her lungs, making it hard to breathe. Bright flashes illuminate Eve’s room, strobe-like, granting her glimpses of the ensuing chaos.
“We need to leave, now!”
“Martin, on your right!”
Someone shoves one of the figures toward her open door.
“Go get Maggie, we can handle this!” a deep voice bellows.
Maggie? That’s right, Maggie is asleep. In the attic.
She will be fine, of course, because none of this is real.
Eve stretches, and yawns, waiting for yet another one of her twisted illusions to be over. Reaching to her nightstand, she locates her glasses and languidly plops them onto her face.
Weird, she always has perfect vision in her dreams. No glasses necessary.
Burning flesh stings her nostrils. The metallic smell of blood.
Double weird.
None of her dreams so far have been this vivid.
There is something in front of her bed. Large and black, its head almost brushing the ceiling. Attacked…it is being attacked. And it is angry.
Eve thinks she knows the attackers. They move with military precision, outfitted in black clothing and gear, their muscled arms fully exposed.
Tattoos. Uniform barcoded lines, just like the ones the Quinns have, but they are glowing red, alive and burning in their skin. The red tattoos flash with every attack, fueling their weapons as they distract the monster before them.
Eve chortles.
When she wakes up, she’s going to write all this down.
One brother—with braids, so it has to be Rowan—is holding a bow. But the arrows appear to be sharp bolts of lightning, burning holes in her comforter as they miss their intended target. Thankfully, the saturated silk smothers their embers.
Bummer. Eve frowns—she really liked her new comforter.
Spotting a thick neck and angry scowl, there is no mistaking Tate. He is holding two spinning metal disks with edges alight and sparking. The black creature screams as he charges, strikes, and retreats. Tate’s weapons connect with what she thinks is the monstrosity’s stomach.
Sending out tendrils of smoke as quick as a snake, she can only see the beast from behind. Human-like in shape, it is easily eight feet tall. Smooth, black, hairless. Muscles grossly defined.
Wrapping her arms around herself, her teeth start to chatter.
“Dream. This is just a dream. I am dreaming….” Eve starts to mumble, so low that it barely registers in all the mayhem.
But the dark creature hears her.
And it stops, slowly twisting toward her.
Flash. She sees its human-like face and her mouth drops open in shock.
Bald. Ears. Nose. Mouth. Eyes. Everything is solid, terrifyingly black.
The monster’s arms raise.
Footsteps. Someone runs across her old wooden floors, throwing their body over hers as the monster’s tendrils spiral toward her head. But it’s too late—the smoke grazes her cheek, burning into her skin.
She screams.
This isn’t a dream.
This is really happening.
Another flash, a panicked face hovers above her.
“Luca?”
Chapter 12
Luca swiftly picks her up, holding Eve against his chest. He gives the monster a wide berth, while Rowan and Tate provide distraction with their arrows and saws. Flash. Eve spots Martin biding his time behind them. He pushes his glasses up on the bridge of his nose, a move Eve is all too familiar with, and she sees that Martin is holding two pulsing orbs. His hands squeeze, tattoos brighten, and the orbs start pulsing faster, and faster.
“I have her, let’s move!” Luca orders, not waiting for their response. Still holding Eve to his chest as he runs toward the threshold, she peeks over his shoulder. Tate and Rowan are not far behind, but she watches as Martin kneels down, rolls the orbs toward the howling beast, and sprints to join their retreat. The orbs don’t move in a straight line, but curve and randomly turn, frustrating and distracting the creature until they stop at its feet.
Eve misses the rest as they hurry down the stairs. From within her room, there is a boom and another bright flash. An unearthly, piercing howl, and darkness once more.
Arriving at the landing, there’s a guy standing there who Eve assumes to be West. She fills with relief, spotting Maggie behind him.
Squinting in the darkness at West’s glowing tattoos, Eve also notices that Maggie is holding an ax.
“Martin, how much time?” Luca rasps, quickly setting Eve down.
“Twenty seconds. Thirty if we’re lucky.”
A strong grip roughly turns Eve to face him. Luca. He bends over, his intense eyes inches from hers.
“Do you think you can run?” he questions, urgently.
Eve nods.
“Good. Go.”
Eve doesn’t move.
“Go!” he yells.
And this time, she does.
Grabbing Maggie’s hand, they rush out the front door, across the porch, and down the driveway. Eve hardly notices the sharp rocks cutting her feet. She doesn’t know where they are supposed to go—it’s so dark, even the moon has been frightened into hiding.
West and Martin swiftly pass them, their odd tattoos thankfully illuminating the way as they turn, heading toward the Quinn home and the empty clear-cut field.
“Faster!” a male voice exclaims from behind. Rowan? Eve doesn’t dare turn to look.
And then she hears it.
First inside the house and then out the front door, gaining ground, the boogeyman from within is out.
And it’s coming.
Even with the adrenaline, Eve’s legs start to tire, her lungs beg for her to stop, but they are almost there. For whatever reason, she knows they need to make it to that field. To the tall poles with the mounted panels and bulbs, which she now knows most definitely have a purpose.
Fifty feet.
Twenty-five.
Less than ten away, Eve’s ankle connects with a rock and she trips, crashing to the ground.
�
�Eve!” screams Maggie, terrified.
Rolling onto her back, the eldest Abbott sits up and freezes.
Her eyes adjust. In the darkness, she makes out the creature from her bedroom.
And it is right in front of her.
“Close your eyes!” Luca yells from somewhere behind her. This time, Eve listens. Shutting them firmly, the entire world beyond her lids goes bright.
First, there is howling. Then the creature’s blood-curdling shrieks—the noise is like nails scratching the inside of her skull. She covers her ears, eyes squeezed shut, and prays for all of it to stop.
Silence.
The world goes dark again.
Too afraid to look or remove her hands, she remains curled in a ball, shaking.
A callused palm squeezes her shoulder.
She jumps.
“Shh, it’s okay. It’s gone,” Luca whispers.
Slowly opening her eyes, the huge light panels in the field emit a soft glow. Martin, holding a tablet, seems to be in control of their operation. A rotten stench, like overcooked meat, is wafting from the pile of ash in front of her. Panicking, she crawls backwards, desperately needing to put some distance between herself and…whatever that was. Only then does she get up and finally get a good look at their group.
Everyone is dirty. Small cuts with dried blood. But they seem to be mostly intact. Maggie’s ax rests in the dried grass at her feet. She has her arms around West, who is holding her protectively. Maggie’s racking sobs are buried in his chest. Her little sister has never been a crier; even when their parents’ fate had been revealed, she had only pulled further into herself.
Eve’s heart breaks, seeing her strong sister crumble.
Burning.
Her cheek is burning.
It feels like acid is eating into her flesh as she reaches for her cheek, but Rowan grabs her wrist, stopping her.
“Martin, get the pack!” he orders. Taking the bottom of his shirt, he rips off a strip, moving swiftly in front of Eve. Luca steps to the side, clearing the way, as Martin locates a black case in a duffel bag next to one of the lights, and heads back toward her.
Saintsville Page 6
