by Frankie Rose
My hands hurt. The term white knuckle ride hadn’t meant much before getting in the car with Agatha. She drove like a madwoman. I gripped the dashboard the whole hour it took for the red dust to turn to tarmac and the sprawling lights to break the skyline.
I wasn’t sure what Tess would say when we showed up on her doorstep. I should have called her, I thought. My cell phone had sat silent and un-powered the whole time I’d been with Agatha and Daniel. The I-didn’t-have-reception excuse might have worked if I’d only vanished for a couple of days, but it was closer to two weeks now. There was no guarantee Tess would come with us even if we did find her. Sure, she was understanding, but the fact that I disappeared without even saying goodbye would definitely have hurt her feelings. There was nothing to be done about it now, though.
Tess’ car was parked in the driveway when we pulled up outside the townhouse her parents owned, three blocks away from my own house. The proximity of my family home brought a lump to my throat. Nothing here had changed. I surveyed the familiar street and caught sight of a postman I recognized pulling his cart. It felt strange and suddenly lonely to be back.
That emotion was only tempered by the knowledge that we were about to meet my brother, who might or might not be incredibly dangerous. We started down the driveway. “Is he going to be like Elliot? Will he have powers?” I whispered. If he had powers, he could hurt Tess.
“Not likely. He would have had to have completed his rites to become immortal.”
“And these rites aren’t something that could accidentally happen without us knowing about it?”
“Not unless he’s been on a killing spree that we missed. To complete the rites, Oliver has to kill someone and have physical contact with them so he can take their soul. We’ve been watching him for a long time now. Oliver’s days mostly consist of playing football and reading really bad horror novels, not stalking potential victims.”
I let that information sink in, waiting to feel better about the situation. It didn’t happen. Agatha went ahead and rapped sharply on the front door. We waited, both shifting impatiently.
No answer.
I picked up the heavy door knocker and knocked three times, holding my breath and staring at the grain in the wooden door. Another five seconds passed before we heard movement inside. There was low giggling behind the door before it swung open, and then Tess appeared in an over-sized shirt and little else. A guy with dark, short hair carefully styled into a fashionable mess stood behind her with his arms folded around her waist. Definitely Oliver. His pale, slate-colored eyes clouded over when he saw me. Did his face mirror my own emotions? Recognition. Shock. Confusion. Did I know him from somewhere?
He stiffened and let his arms drop to his sides, uncomfortable and awkward. His bare chest suggested the pale blue shirt Tess wore was probably his. Agatha cleared her throat and raised her eyebrows, clearly not impressed by what the scene would suggest.
“Farley?” Tess managed. “What are you doing here?”
“Can we talk for a moment?”
Tess looked from me to Agatha and back again. “Of course.” She stepped back from the doorway and allowed us entrance into the house. Agatha tensed as Oliver followed behind us, clearly ready to pull her gun on him if he tried anything.
“Where have you been, Farley?” Tess’ question was sad and exasperated.
“I’m sorry,” I began, “I…” What was I supposed to tell her? How did you begin a story like this? After my mom going missing and my sporadic behavior before I disappeared, Tess would think I’d gone nuts. “Can we talk alone?” I asked, glancing at Oliver.
“Um, I—”
“It’s okay, babe,” he broke in. “I need to finish my assignment, anyway. I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” He played a good part of the caring boyfriend, that was for sure. He disappeared up the stairs and Tess spun on me.
“Are you going to tell me what’s going on? Who’s this?” She pointed at Agatha.
I took a deep breath and dove in. “We think Oliver could be dangerous.”
Tess recoiled, turning purple, and began spluttering.
“Nicely done,” Agatha quipped.
I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t see you doing any better.”
Agatha accepted the challenge. “I’m a friend of Farley’s. My name is Agatha. We found out she could be in danger and relocated her for her own safety. We have reason to believe Oliver might be involved, and we’d like you to come with us so we can explain everything.”
“Okay, I guess that was better,” I conceded, but Tess hadn’t liked the second version any better than the first.
“Farley, you’ve been gone for ages. I was worried sick. I get some vague message about you needing time alone and the cops refuse to do anything about it. They said you were a legal adult since you turned eighteen and could do whatever the hell you pleased. This whole time Oliver’s been the only person here for me, and now you show up as if by magic and tell me that he’s a bad guy. No. I’m not listening to this. You’re not being fair.”
She was right. This whole thing was unfair. I felt hideous as I opened my mouth to try and explain, but before I could speak the front door thudded. “What was that?”
Agatha pulled out her gun and wheeled around behind the door, motioning for us to be silent. Tess’ eyes grew wide when she saw the gun. The door thudded again. We all froze, holding our breath, waiting.
“Miss Kennedy?” a male voice called through the door, “I heard shouting. Is everything okay? It’s Jerry. Can you open the door?”
I mouthed, “Jerry?”
“The mailman,” Tess hissed, shrugging her shoulders. “He’s only ever spoken to me once.”
I frowned. Something wasn’t right. “It’s almost five p.m.,” I whispered to Agatha. She nodded, already way ahead of me. There was no way a mailman would be doing his rounds at this time of day.
“Miss Kennedy.” The voice came through louder this time. “Open the door.”
“What’s going on?” Tess whispered.
“Don’t freak out. Agatha will handle it.”
There was another forceful crash. Oliver tore back down the stairs, almost stumbling in his haste.
“Cover him, Farley!” Agatha hollered, as the door bulged and threatened to come off its hinges. What the hell did she mean? And then I remembered. The gun. I pulled it from my waistband and maneuvered in between Tess and Oliver, who had now reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Whoa!” he cried, catching sight of the flashing metal in my hands. “What’s the deal? Are you freakin’ crazy?!”
“What are you doing?” Tess cried. She tried to yank my arm down.
“Trust me, okay? We’re not gonna hurt him. We have to leave. I’ll explain everything later.”
The door thumped again. This time the wood cracked and splintered close to the lock. It exploded open to reveal the mailman standing there with an ice-cold expression on his face. He saw me pointing the gun at Oliver but didn’t notice Agatha. She seized the opportunity and stepped back to hide behind the door.
“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he warned me.
Jerry definitely fit the stereotype of a mailman: short and a little paunchy, with very little hair. I’d seen him a hundred times over the past six months and he’d always seemed a little shifty. But now, with a look of murder in his eyes, he was a completely different creature. He withdrew a small, sleek-looking blade from his black leather belt and grinned. “You have no idea what you’re interfering in, little girl. Put down the gun and perhaps I won’t hurt you.”
“What’s going on?” Oliver squeaked as Jerry crept closer towards us, his knife glinting.
“Hold your tongue,” Jerry hissed. “It’s no wonder they kept you in the dark. You’re too stupid to understand anything.”
Oliver narrowed his eyes. “Hey! Don’t you know my uncle?”
“Shut up!” The order rang out, bouncing off the cold marble. Jerry stalked towards us
. His intentions were clear as he lunged forwards with his knife. He wasn’t close enough to reach me, but he was close enough for me to catch the gleam of his blade.
“Don’t come any closer or I’ll shoot you, I swear!”
“I doubt that. You’re pointing your gun in the wrong direction for starters.”
He was right, but I didn’t want to take my aim from Oliver all the same. Jerry snaked the blade out, darting towards Tess who yelped in fear.
“Stay away from her!” Oliver yelled, barreling forward. His move took me unawares. Before I could react, Oliver launched himself at the fat man, knocking him to the ground. In a flash, Jerry pinned him on the floor in a leg lock and shoved the knife in his face.
Tess screamed, trying to get past me to throw herself on top of him. The mailman ignored us and grinned sardonically down at Oliver.
“Your father will be sore with me for the blood, but maybe a little nick will remind you you’re not my master yet,” he said. He let out a hollow, dry laugh, and then plunged the knife deep into Oliver’s shoulder. He gasped as the metal cut through his bare skin. The blood—rivulets of crimson and scarlet—ran unchecked over his arm and across his throat. Jerry grunted with pleasure as he gave the knife one last dig, and then yanked it out.
I couldn’t tear my eyes from the scene. Jerry tried to stand, but Agatha was behind him. She brought the butt of her gun down over the back of his head with a sickening crack. His body sagged to the ground, slumping over Oliver.
“Get ready to move,” Agatha said, all business. She slipped the gun back into her waistband and rolled Jerry off Oliver. “Are you okay?” She offered her hand out to him. He lay slack-jawed on the floor, staring at the sticky red mess that was pooling around him.
“No…Uh, I think—”
“Never mind. Just get up. You’ll be fine.”
Oliver looked at her like she was crazy for suggesting he might live but slowly took her hand and struggled to his feet. “Will someone tell me what’s going on? Please?” He looked to Tess who had blanched so white she looked on the verge of passing out. She stumbled to him and wrapped her arms around his waist, his blood staining the shirt she wore. “Hello? Was that my uncle’s friend? Why did he just stab me?” Oliver repeated.
Agatha ignored him. “We have to move, Farley. Now. It won’t be long before the real troops show up. They won’t be as easy to disarm as the scout. I don’t think Oliver knows anything. It might be a good thing if he came along with us.”
Her logic seemed sound. We couldn’t be sure what he knew. He could simply be acting out a pretty good show, but we couldn’t hang around to find out. He was injured and not much of a threat as far as I could tell.
“Please come with us,” I begged Tess. “It’s really important that you trust me. It would take too long to explain right now. Agatha’s on our side. She’ll take care of us, but we have to go now. Please?”
“Fine. You’ve got to help him, though.” Tess gazed up at her boyfriend’s bloody shoulder and visibly balked.
“That would be nice,” Oliver agreed. He had gone a pallid grey color.
I raced upstairs with Tess while she threw on some dark blue jeans, and we ran back down with one of Mr. Kennedy’s t-shirts for Oliver. We were in the car and tearing off down the street in seconds. Agatha barely slowed as she hung a left at the bottom of the first intersection and nearly crashed into the hulking hood of a sleek black SUV. She slammed on the breaks just in time. The car protested loudly as she wrenched the steering wheel around. She turned right instead, the tires smoking as we sped off.
“Looks like we’ve got a bit of a chase on our hands,” she said. She shifted up a gear and the car’s engine roared. I cast a glance in the rearview to see the black SUV was right behind us, inching closer. The tinted windows hid our pursuers, but I could imagine their faces all too well.
The roads were busy. As we approached a set of traffic lights, Agatha hit the curb and mounted the sidewalk, slamming the car’s underside down on the concrete with a worrying crunch. Tess leaned forward and grabbed hold of my arm. One look in the rearview showed that she was terrified.
“Agatha? Agatha, what’s the plan?” I squeaked.
“This is the plan.” She broke suddenly, swinging the car through another left. Oliver cried out in pain, and I looked back again to see that his head was tipped back against the seat, his face ashen. Viscous red fluid worked its way through his fingers as he clutched at his shoulder, to run down his forearm.
“We need to lose these guys and get to the hospital,” I told Agatha. The tiny woman didn’t respond. The car sped up, bringing a busy intersection into view. “Please tell me you’re not going to—” but before I could finish the car flew off the sidewalk, straight into the oncoming traffic.
“Agatha!”
A boxy red Nissan ploughed straight for the passenger door. Agatha tore through the intersection, and the other car fishtailed, slamming into a black Ford on the other side of the road.
“They’re still there!”
“We’ll lose them on the highway.”
I spied the turnoff rapidly approaching. “How can you lose them on the highway? There’s nowhere to go!”
“You’d better do something then, kiddo.”
My hands were trembling. I shook them out, hoping to regain some control over them as I reached again for the gun. Agatha saw me pull it out.
“Aim for the tires.”
“Farley! What are you doing? Come back in the car!” Tess screamed, but it was too late. Twisting around in my seat, I leaned out of the window as far as I dared before aiming at the looming black monster behind us. I squeezed the trigger and then cursed. The safety. A stupid, rookie error. I felt for the snick of the metal catch as it slid into place and then squeezed again. This time the gun exploded in my hand, throwing me back against the dashboard, punching my arm back to aim at the sky. I threw myself forward, searching to see if I’d hit my mark. The tire remained in motion, undamaged. Instead, there was a flowering splinter on the tinted windshield.
“Damn it!” Of course their windows would be bullet proof. I took aim again as a huge, muscled guy appeared at the window with a gun of his own and aimed it straight at me. There was no feeling or emotion in his cold eyes. Only shining slivers of silver, banding his irises.
Immundus.
His hands were steady, not shaking with fear like mine. I pulled off another round, remembering not to lock my shoulder this time. When the gun kicked my arm back, it was only thrown a little wide. A high metallic zip buzzed in my ears, and the bullet made contact with the low metal grill to the front of the car, missing yet again.
The Immundus fired again, his bullets much closer to their mark than mine. The wing mirror smashed into a thousand pieces, the small shards of glass glinting brilliantly as they caught the sun. They splintered through the air in slow motion as I ducked back into the car, crouching behind the headrest and covering my head with my arms.
“Get down!”
Bullets impacted with the rear windshield, shattering the glass into a spider web of fractures. Thankfully it held. Oliver snapped back to life and pulled Tess down in the back seat, covering her body with his own. He gave me a wild, fearful look and then hunkered down as a fresh hail of fire rained down on the car.
“Farley! The tires!” Agatha screamed again.
The highway was clear. Unbelievable luck. There wasn’t time to think, only to act. I inched back out the side of the car window. Once, twice, three times I squeezed the trigger blindly, every one of the shots missing. The Charger started to pour black smoke. It tasted bitter on my tongue, and could only mean bad news. I had to do something.
Taking a deep breath, I pulled myself further out of the window, my torso fully out in the open. I leaned back against the doorframe, focused, took aim, and fired. This time I wasn’t aiming for the tires. This time I aimed straight for the gunman, and this time I didn’t miss.
&nb
sp; The Immundus’ head jerked back and a spray of blood and bone blossomed out behind him. His body was suddenly limp. He slumped sideways out of the window, his dead arm still gripping hold of his gun. There had been no reaction when the bullet hit him; he died instantaneously. His eyes didn’t look any deader than before, but it was still terrifying. I’d just…I’d just killed someone.
I was still frozen, staring, when the Ducati Monster ripped around the side of the car. Its engine’s throaty snarl startled me out of my daze. The rider was dressed head to heel in black. Daniel.
Before I could blink, the motorbike moved between the Charger and the SUV. He stared straight at me. It was amazing how he could convey an angry look even through a blacked-out visor.
Behind him, the slumped figure of the man began to move. For a moment I thought the gunman was somehow still alive and about to shoot Daniel in the back, but within a second the body hit the tarmac. It bounced hard and tumbled as it lost speed behind the car. My relief was short lived. As soon as the window was clear, a gaunt, pale woman took position. She began firing, her thick, plaited rope of blonde hair streaming out behind her.
Daniel didn’t seem to notice the shots at first, but as soon as one hit the rear of his bike he spurred into action. He sped up the inside of the car and leveled out alongside me. When he pulled his visor up, I was almost more afraid of him than the Immundus. At least those guys kept their feelings to themselves.
“Get. Back. Inside. The. Car.”
I immediately shrank back, knowing that he wasn’t above shoving me back in himself. When I turned to face the road, I caught sight of Agatha. Her face was awash with relief.
“What now?” I hollered above the engine.
“He’ll take care of it,”
“How? He doesn’t even have a gun!”
“Just wait.”
I waited for what felt like forever but was in reality only two heartbeats, and then Daniel ripped past us, speeding into the open road. He tore ahead, and within moments the distance between the bike and the Charger grew from five to fifty feet.
“He’s leaving?” I yelled, watching the bike rapidly move away.
“No. Just wait.”
In the distance Daniel must have slammed the breaks on hard, because the bike slid out from underneath him in a thick plume of white smoke. It was just gone from between his legs, and he was somehow standing in the middle of the road ahead of us, the bike careening on its side down the road without him. The gap between us was closing rapidly. Agatha hit the gas, speeding up.
“You’re gonna hit him!” I cried.
She wasn’t listening. She was laughing, her foot flat to the floor, and Daniel was getting closer by the second. He stood unwavering in the road with his visor down, staring at the SUV. I had no idea what was about to happen, but hell if it didn’t look like Daniel wasn’t making it through the other side.
We were only ten feet away when Agatha swerved. Daniel dropped to one knee as the car flew past, bringing his closed fist down to strike the tarmac. A complete silence fell over everything. The noise of the chase, car engine, guns, shouting and screaming, were all extinguished. There was nothing but the thud of my own heartbeat and a dull roaring in my ears. Agatha was screaming something but her voice was stolen away. Then the car was sliding, spinning around until it faced Daniel again.
He was crouched in the road. Something didn’t look right, like the sky and the tarmac were being pulled inwards, distorted and stretched. The SUV was almost on top of him now. I screamed, but there was no sound, just the raw pain of it in my throat. He was going to die.
The air around Daniel pulsated once…twice…and then a brilliant white, burning light erupted from him. It was everywhere all at once. The intensity of it scorched my eyes. I screwed them shut, holding my hands over my face, but it was no use. It pried at me, alive, searching out the cracks. It was gone in an instant, but the echo of it burned through my body and left me feeling like I was falling. Falling forever.
When I opened my eyes, the SUV was on its roof, smoking, the front end partially crushed. The road before it was rippled and cracked like the site of a meteor impact. Daniel was striding over to the Charger with his bike helmet in his hand, but I barely saw him. My brain was too numb, unable to piece together what had just taken place.
“Farley?” My name sounded distant, as if I was sinking to the bottom of a swimming pool. “Farley?”
I looked at Agatha and blinked.
“We have to get out of here before the cops show up. Are you hurt?”
After a quick mental inventory, I shook my head. Daniel arrived at Agatha’s door. “Will the car run?”
“Yes,” she replied. “The bike?”
“It’ll be fine. Let’s go”
He gave me a look that I couldn’t quite read and then vanished. Agatha started the engine, turned the car, and we were moving. Daniel’s bike roared up behind us and then sped off down the long, straight road until he was nothing more than a black speck on the horizon.
“Is someone going to tell me what just happened?” Tess’ voice quavered. She cradled Oliver’s head in her lap and held her hand over his shoulder whilst he winced in pain.
“I wish I could,” I murmured. “I really wish I could.”
CHATPER TWENTY-SEVEN
Giving it Back
