The Reaping

CHAPTER ELEVEN





There, in the shadows beside the girl, were other people. They were all deathly pale. All their mouths were open wide in silent screams and pleas that I couldn’t make out. Most of them were horribly disfigured, like they’d seen terrible battles and lived, though their wounds had never healed.

Among them, I saw a man with a wide cut on the left side of his head, the skull lying open grotesquely. I saw a woman that had apparently been tortured. Her clothes hung in tatters and, through the gaps in the material, I could see bloody knife wounds and chunks of flesh dangling. And then there was another man, one who looked familiar somehow. One side of his face was severely burned, which made him particularly difficult to identify. In fact, one entire side of his body was charred to the bone. It looked almost as if half of him was perpetually in shadow.

They were all like that, mangled in some way—bloodied, beaten, broken, burned, ripped and torn.

And then I smelled them. A stench like nothing I’d ever smelled before—except on the man in the woods. Only this was worse. Bile rushed into my mouth and I backed away. When I did, they became agitated and started reaching for me.

At first I couldn’t feel their touch, merely a cold sensation where their hazy forms passed over my body. Then the burned man reached for me. And I felt it. Light as a feather, the fingers of his intact hand grazed my cheek. It was almost tender. And then I began to feel them all.

They were touching my arms and my face, stroking my hair, clutching at my clothes. With every step I took backward, they took a step forward. The faster I moved to escape their hands, the more frantic they became to pursue me.

Then I felt something at my back. I turned, unable to stifle my gasp when I saw more of them behind me. They were all around, emerging from the shadows, trying desperately to get to me.

I spun in a circle, looking for a way out, an escape route. I saw none. Without even realizing it, I had backed myself into a corner in the garage.

Adrenaline flooded my body. My hands shook with it as I raised them, palm out, to ward the people off.

As they crowded in on me, as my fear grew, their touch became more pronounced, more real, no longer dancing along my skin like a light breeze. I could feel their fingernails digging into the flesh of my arms, their hands pulling painfully at my hair. I heard the seam of my robe’s sleeve rip beneath the frantic fingers of a woman who, by the looks of her tenuously attached head, had been nearly decapitated.

I swung at them, but it was like trying to catch the wind. There was nothing there. I thrashed my arms wildly, but it didn’t stop them; they kept closing in on me. If anything it seemed only to make them more desperate, angry even. Their faces and half-faces contorted into expressions of frustration and rage. Hunger. Their teeth gnashed as they bit and snapped at one another. Then they started biting at me, lunging at me. And I couldn’t stop them, couldn’t defend myself.

A vise grip squeezed my chest, seizing my lungs, as panic set in. It stopped me from taking the deep breath I needed to scream. I opened my mouth, but no air could move past the lump of terror in my throat. My heart hammered in my chest, so hard I could hear it in my ears.

Fear, unlike any fear I’d ever known, coursed through me. My muscles twitched with it. My head throbbed with it. My stomach trembled with it.

And then, like the windows of heaven opening up behind me, light poured into the darkness.

And they were gone.

I whirled to see Derek standing under the garage door, his arms raised above his head holding it open. I thought I’d never been happier to see another person as long as I’d lived.

On shaking legs, I ran across the garage and flung myself at him, wrapping my arms around his shoulders and burying my face against his neck. He only staggered back an inch or two under my unexpected assault before he caught himself.

Derek just stood there and let me hang on, my feet dangling half a foot off the ground. Then finally, hesitantly, I felt one of his arms come around me and pull me closer.

I don’t know how long he held me that way. Long enough for me to calm down I suppose. He began to sway gently and then, little by little I became aware of him. I felt his hard chest and flat belly against mine. I felt the friction of his thighs brushing mine. I felt the heat of his strong hand where it was splayed across my back. And then, with my face still pressed against his neck, I tasted his skin on my lips, warm, musky and a little bit salty.

The relief and gratitude, the comfort that I had felt initially, were slowly replaced by…something else. At first it swirled around inside my head. And then, like blowing on an ember, it began to warm me more and more and more until I was on fire.

It was like nothing I’d felt before. My skin was hot and tingly. Something pleasant and exciting bubbled in my belly. Heat radiated from Derek’s fingertips where they grazed my rib cage. Electricity crackled in the air around us.

I could hear him breathing, more rapid and shallow than before. I felt his chest rise and fall more quickly beneath me. Blood pumped faster through the vein in his neck; I could feel it beating beneath my lips.

He loosened his arm around me and I loosened my hold on his neck, my body slowly sliding down his until my feet touched the ground. My flesh felt branded with the imprint of his body, like it had been burned onto me everywhere we’d touched.

I lifted my eyes to his. The swirling silver was darker tonight, smoky, clouded with something I hadn’t seen before. I felt it in the growing heat that was consuming every fiber of my body. It permeated my skin and coursed through my veins like lava. Even as close as we already were, I felt the need to get closer still, to feel his skin on mine, his lips on mine and…something more. It burned inside me, deep in my belly, hot and breathless.

His hair wasn’t bound tonight. My hands were still fisted in it, resting at his nape. I flexed my fingers, the long strands flowing like silk between them. I watched his eyes drop to my mouth and my lips began to throb, aching for the touch of his.

I licked my suddenly dry lips. I looked down at his mouth, willing it to move closer to mine. Absently, I wondered why I’d never noticed how perfectly sculpted his lips were, firm and masculine. My mouth watered as I pondered what they might taste like.

Then, as if in answer to my silent plea, they began to move closer and closer and closer. When I could no longer focus on them, I let my lids fall shut and I waited.

It began much like my kiss with Stephen had, with the feather-light pressure of his lips on mine. But that’s where the similarities ended. Gently, he brushed his lips back and forth across mine. I felt a thrill from the rubbing sensation that reached all the way down to my navel.

My lips parted of their own accord and I felt the pressure of his mouth increase the tiniest bit. His arm tightened around me then the other one came into play, his hand sliding beneath my robe and around my waist, drawing me into his embrace.

Excitement jumped along my nerves when I felt the tip of his tongue slip slowly between my lips. Opening my mouth a little wider, I welcomed it, felt its silky length slide along mine. It felt warm and wet and erotic and he tasted like coffee mixed with something sweet.

Once again, I fisted my fingers in his hair, this time holding his head to mine. I felt as much as heard his groan. It hummed along my tongue then all the way down to my toes. One of his hands came up to cup the back of my head as he deepened the kiss. He turned his head to the side and plundered my mouth, his tongue licking along mine, coaxing it into his mouth.

Then, just as I was about to be swept away, his lips were gone. For a moment, I felt the sting of loss, but then he rested his cheek against mine and I was caught up in the prickle of his stubble. It sent a shower of cold chills down my neck and shoulders and his warm breath tickled my ear. I noticed with some satisfaction that his breathing was as ragged as mine.

“Carson,” he whispered, his voice a rough caress that I felt flutter in my stomach.

He held me like that for several long minutes, until our breathing returned to normal.

“You’re freezing,” he observed, running his hands up and down my wet back.

I certainly wasn’t aware of the cold; I was warmer than I could ever remember being. But I wasn’t about to argue when he scooped me up into his arms and carried me inside.

He walked through the kitchen into my room and then into the adjoining bathroom where he gently set me on my feet next to the shower. My heart was thundering nervously in my ears and my hands were shaking as I lowered them from his neck to his chest.

Suddenly self-conscious, I hesitantly raised my eyes to his. In my peripheral vision, I saw him reach behind the curtain and then I heard the spray of water as it beat against the shower walls. His eyes never left mine.

I felt his hands at my neck. He lowered them to my shoulders, slipping his fingers under the edge of my robe. His hands slid down my bare arms, pushing the robe off as they went and leaving a trail of fire in their wake. Chills spread across my chest and belly, several body parts tightening and tingling excitedly.

“I-I haven’t-,” I stammered. “We can’t—”

Thankfully he interrupted my pitiful attempts at coherent speech, saving me from having to make the most embarrassing speech of my life.

“I know,” he whispered, his eyes never leaving mine. “You need to get warm, though.”

All I could muster was a nod of agreement. I stood perfectly still, flushed and warm, while he pulled the tank over my head and let it drop to the floor. Then, his eyes never leaving mine, he squatted down in front of me and hooked his fingers in the band of my pajama pants. Slowly, he slid them over my hips and down my legs, his smoky eyes blazing passionately into mine.

When I stood before him in nothing but bra and panties, every inch of my skin on fire, he let his eyes fall inch by inch down to my feet. As they made their way back up my body, he rose to his full height. He was so close I could feel the heat coming off his body in thick, steamy waves.

His eyes bored into mine. They mirrored the desire that I felt boiling inside me. When he bent to brush his lips over mine, I was already mindless with passion. But then he, too quicky, he broke the contact and turned away.

He paused in the doorway to look back at me, his hand on the knob. One side of his mouth lifted in a lopsided grin. Then, just before he pulled the door shut, I saw his eyes dart to the mirror at my back. I could’ve sworn I saw him frown right before the door closed with a soft click.

I took my time in the shower. When I got out, I brushed my teeth, combed my hair and rubbed lotion into my still-sensitive skin. After I dressed, I wandered out to the living room. The television was on, but Derek wasn’t watching it. He was standing at the window, staring out into the night.

I walked to the couch and sat down, making myself comfortable. I didn’t know what to say after what we’d just experienced so I said nothing at all. I’d let him take the lead.

He neither spoke nor moved for the longest time, so long in fact I wondered if he even knew I was there. It startled me when he asked, “When did you get the mark?”

“What mark?”

“The tattoo. The one on your right shoulder blade.”

“Oh. That,” I said, suddenly understanding why he’d frowned into the mirror in the bathroom; he’d seen the spot on my back. “It’s not a tattoo. I’m not sure what it is, actually. At first I thought it was grease from the garage floor, but...”

“And now?”

“Well,” I paused to think. “I’m still not sure. It keeps getting bigger and bigger and changing colors. And it’s starting to look more like…”

“Like what?” He prompted.

“Like, um, flames I guess.”

“How long ago did you first notice it?’

“I don’t know, a couple of weeks I suppose. Why?”

“When was the last time you looked at it?”

“It’s been a few days I guess. Why?” I asked again.

“The dead grass and flowers around your father’s grave,” he said.

“What about them?”

“Go look at your shoulder.”

His imperious tone rankled. But rather than taking exception and making a snide comment, I simply stood and walked back into my bedroom to do as he asked. Besides, with the way he introduced the subject, I was too curious not to go look.

I closed the bathroom door behind me, not wanting him to sneak up on me while I was topless. When I turned to get a good look at my shoulder, I saw that the flames had spread. They formed a wide base that spanned my right side, from my spine to my armpit. The flames licked up toward my neck and now, woven among them, were vines of the greenest green. In some places, their shoots wrapped and twisted around the flames as if they were choking the fire. But in other places the heart-shaped leaves on the vine disappeared into the flames, like they’d been burned up in the heat.

I pushed my top down and went back into the living room. Though the mark (as well as the other physical transformations of late) bothered me, it gave me some consolation to know that Derek evidently knew something about it. I’d never have dreamed that I’d draw that much comfort from just not being alone in all this, whatever “this” was.

“So what does it mean?” I said without preamble as I stepped into the living room.

“Obviously the flames represent your ability to wield fire. At this point, that’s no surprise.

“And the vines?”

“Another mystery.”

“Why? The way you made it sound, it has something to do with plants.”

“Well, if the display of dead vegetation at your father’s funeral was any indication, I’d say you can control earth, too.” His tone and expression made it seem like that wasn’t necessarily a good thing.

I would marvel over the control earth thing later. Right now I just wanted to know why he made it seem like such a bad thing. “Then why is it such a mystery? You figured it out quickly enough.”

“It was my understanding that each twin can control one of the four elements and when one twin defeats the other, he absorbs the second power. And yet you…” He shrugged in his customary way.

In my head, I finished his statement. And yet I was apparently gifted (or cursed) with two.

“What could that mean?”

“Honestly?”

“No, lie to me,” I snapped sarcastically.

“Honestly,” he snapped. “I have no idea.”

I walked back to the couch and sat down again. Derek turned back to the window. We were both lost in thought for quite some time before he broke the silence.

“Why were you wet?”

I looked at the back of his head, puzzled. “What are you talking about?”

“In the garage. Why were you wet?”

My mind was so overwhelmed it took me a minute to change gears. “What? Didn’t you see all that water in the garage?”

Derek turned to look at me. “The garage is dry, Carson.” A hint of concern shadowed his handsome face, but I also saw the tiniest bit of pity, like maybe he thought I was buckets of crazy and felt a little sorry for me. And that irritated me.

“Well it wasn’t. It was raining in there, falling up, like it was coming from the ground. Everything was wet, even the inside of the car.”

I was glad to see the pity leave his expression, even if it was replaced by an anxious frown that wrinkled his brow. “It was raining upside down?”

“Yes! All over the garage. Trust me. I know what I saw.”

“I just don’t see how that’s possible, Carson.”

“Well, it came as a shock to me, too. And if you don’t believe it then—”

“Oh I believe you,” he interrupted, cutting short my rising indignation. “It’s just that you shouldn’t be able to see that, much less experience it.”

“Why? What do you mean?” I felt like a three-year old, always asking why.

I saw him hesitate for an instant before he spoke, as if he was weighing the merit of telling me the truth. “It rains upside down in the Darkness,” he said gravely. “Things are very different there, almost completely opposite of this world.”

“And…”

“And the Darkness can’t be seen from here.” Derek turned back toward the window, the gesture casual and uninterested.

“Well, I’m just telling you what I saw.”

“Is that why you were so afraid?”

I didn’t answer. If he’d balked at the upside down rain, what would he say about the gruesome untouchable people in the shadows?

“Don’t even pretend that you weren’t scared to death. It was so strong I could feel it.”

I thought to ask him about that, but the topic at hand seemed more important. I’d have to add it to my ever-growing list of things I didn’t have the answers to. “No. I was afraid of all those people.”

Derek whirled back to face me, his frown back, so deep it was nearly a scowl. “What people?”

He gave me flack over my garage floor raining, but believed this?

“I don’t know. People. Hurt people. They were…” I trailed off, struggling to find the words to describe what I saw.

“They were what?”

“I don’t know. They were there, but not there. Like, I couldn’t touch them, but, after a while, I could feel them touching me.” Even as I spoke about it, the remembered fear formed a tight ball in my chest, that overwhelming sensation of powerlessness still fresh.

Derek walked to stand in front of me, looking down into my face as if trying to see inside my head, inside my soul. Whether or not he found what he was looking for, I don’t know, but he turned back toward the center of the room, ran his fingers through his hair and began to pace.

“These people,” he said. “Tell me about them.”

To the best of my ability, I described in intimate detail the scene that had terrorized me in the garage. Derek’s expression grew darker and darker the longer I talked. When I reached my conclusion, starring Derek as my rescuer, a black thundercloud had settled over his face.

“What does it mean?”

“That’s why he wanted me to find you,” Derek said absently, speaking more to himself than to me.

“Who?” He resumed his pacing, as if I hadn’t spoken. “Who, Derek?” Still he ignored me. I got up from the couch and stepped in front of him. “Who?”

“Who what?”

“Who wanted you to find me?”

“Fahl.”

Dread curled its icy fingers around my stomach. I could remember the smell of him, Fahl, and the way he made me feel, as if he’d just left the room. It was etched permanently onto my mind. “What does he want with me?”

“That’s the million dollar question.”

It took a few seconds for what he’d said to sink in. When it did, it brought anger with it. “Then why did you do it? Why did you lead him to me? What if he wants to kill me or something?”

“He doesn’t want to kill you, Carson. Anyway, I had no choice.”

“There’s always a choice,” I spat, remembering another of the many wisdoms my father had drilled into my head.

“Not always.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s a long story,” Derek said dismissively, walking around me to continue pacing.

You should be glad that I gave you this assignment rather than keeping you…with me, I remembered Fahl saying to Derek.

“What? Do you- do you work for him?”

“I guess you could say that,” he said distractedly, still pacing, deep in thought. “I needed him to do something for me and this is what he wanted in return.”

The pacing was driving me crazy. “Derek! Stop!”

“What, Carson?” His temper flared as quickly as mine had. “I’m trying to think,” he growled.

“Well, I need some answers. I’m kind of freaking out here.”

“I don’t have many answers for you. Not right now at least. There’s a lot I don’t know either, okay?” His patience had obviously come to an end.

We stared each other down, neither of us ready to budge an inch. After several minutes, I realized that I wanted, needed, more answers and we were getting nowhere fast this way. So, grudgingly, I tamped down my anger as deep as it would go and I began again.

“Alright, look. Let’s start over,” I suggested agreeably. “Would you please tell me about this man and this place? Maybe knowing more about all this will help me make sense of what I’ve seen, of what’s happening to me.”

Derek glared at me, but I could see his temper fading as he considered my proposition. After a put-upon sigh, he said, “Alright. What do you want to know?”

“Who’s Fahl?”

“I don’t really know,” he said. I puffed up instantly, certain he was just being difficult. Seeing my reaction, he merely raised one dark brow then continued, in no hurry to assuage my curiosity. “I don’t know if anyone does. He’s a very powerful man over there, maybe the most powerful. I mean every hell has a devil, right?”

“Over where?”

“Carson,” he began, his tone laced with frustration. “Do you know how hard this is to explain?” I said nothing. Running his fingers through his hair again, another gesture of frustration, he continued. I was grateful he was at least willing to try. “I call it the Darkness. I think different people call it different things, have for thousands of years—Purgatory, Limbo, the Chasm, Misery, a parallel universe. Whatever you call it, it’s the place that’s all around what we can see and touch in this world. It hovers in the dark, always just outside human reach and perception. But it’s real.” He paused. “And it’s evil,” he said grimly.

“How do you get there?”

“I was called, summoned, just like I think you might be one day. There’s no other way. At least not that I’ve found,” he answered then paused. “Yet,” he added emphatically.

“Called? By whom?”

“Fahl.”

“To do what?”

“To make good on your deal.”

“What deal?”

“I told you before, people make different deals, have for…forever I guess.”

“But I told you I didn’t make any deals. What does he want with me?”

“And I told you that maybe you didn’t make a deal, but somebody did. Probably one of your parents. Not just anyone can make a deal for you. Besides, I don’t think that’s all he wants with you.”

I thought of the letter from my mother and an ominous cloud settled over me. “And how do you make good on your deal?”

“Depends on the deal, I guess, but I think with twins there’s always a fight.”

“A fight?” I asked. Derek nodded in answer. “A fight for what?”

“A fight for your life.”

“I don’t understand,” I said, unable to disguise the tremor in my voice.

“Somehow he finds what people need most and he gives it to them. For a price. With twins, it’s like hitting the jackpot. He gets two for the price of one.”

“But I don’t understand,” I repeated, but in my gut I thought I probably did.

“It’s kill or be killed, but either way you lose. If you lose, you can never come back here, never move on. You die, but not really. You’re trapped in the darkness,” he said gravely.

“And if you win?”

Derek laughed bitterly. “No one really wins. You can’t kill a man without becoming the monster.”

I felt like I was about to hyperventilate. I couldn’t kill someone, especially not my identical twin. To look into her face, so like my own, and end her life, condemn her to an existence like those other people I’d seen. No way!

Suddenly, I was overcome with the urge to run, run far and fast. And then hide. Forever if need be. I was certain I couldn’t handle what he was suggesting. Heck, I wasn’t even sure I was strong enough to handle what had happened in the past month. Who could?

Then I remembered the girl in the garage asking me to save her. What if that really was my sister?

“So you’re saying that I’ll have to- have to kill my sister or be doomed for eternity?” I felt the weight of it, the hopelessness of it pour down on me like thick, black tar, drowning out light and air. “Is there no other option? No way to…to…”

“Not that I’ve been able to find,” he said, shaking his head. “Yet,” he said again. “But…”

“But what?” I felt my entire being latch onto the possibility in that one word, the hope of a “but”.

“There’s something that just…”

“Just what?”

“That I just don’t get.”

“What?”

“You’re already dead. If you’re already dead, how can he claim you?”

I felt deflated. I had hoped there would be something else, something more like a loophole that he’d just realized. “I still don’t believe that’s possible. I mean, look at me. Do I look dead to you?”

“No, but maybe that was part of the deal.”

I had no response to that, bits and pieces of Dad’s version of “the accident” flitting through my mind. “So you’re saying that it’s possible that I’m dead and that the only reason I’m here right now is because someone pretty much made a deal with the devil.”

“Pretty much,” he agreed. “At least that’s one theory.”

“There are more?”

“I don’t know. That’s why I need to think,” he said pointedly.

I was silent, mulling over what Derek had said as he resumed his pacing. Then a thought occurred to me. “Why couldn’t he find me?”

“That’s another question I don’t know the answer to.”

“And why did he think you could?”

Derek stopped and looked at me, hard, for several long, tense seconds before he responded. “I think he knows I can feel you,” he said carefully.

“How can you feel me? Why?”

Derek shrugged his shoulders in that way of his. I felt like I’d seen it a thousand times, like I’d known him all my life.

Despite the seriousness of the conversation, a ripple of warmth skittered through me at the thought of him knowing what was inside me, feeling what I felt. And feeling it with me.

I felt the blood stain my cheeks. A question, one that I had to know the answer to, came to mind and I was embarrassed about it even before I opened my mouth to speak.

“What does it feel like, to feel me?” It sounded like such an intimate thing, to feel me.

“I can feel it when you wield, partly because right now it’s tied to your emotions. I feel your fear, your anger, your power,” he said then paused. “And your danger. When you’re out of control, I can feel it raging inside me like it’s me. Only it’s not.”

It wasn’t quite the romantic explanation I’d hoped for, but I supposed it made sense. My cheeks burned. I was even more embarrassed for thinking that the explanation might be something different, something sensual.

I nodded, casting my eyes toward the floor, as if in thought. At least I hoped he’d see it that way so I could compose myself. Nervously, I tucked my hair behind my ear.

I saw black boots as Derek came to stand in front of me. I didn’t look up. I was afraid to, certain my face was still beet red. I saw him raise his hand toward me then felt his finger beneath my chin. I let him lift my face until our eyes met. When they did, I felt it again—the magnetism, the electricity, the heat.

“But that’s not all I feel,” he said softly, his voice touching me like a physical caress. “I feel drawn to you, inexplicably drawn to you. For a few weeks now, it’s been getting stronger and stronger. I knew I had to find you. If Fahl hadn’t wanted me to locate you, I’d have looked anyway. I started here because of the nexus. I thought it was worth a shot.” He paused, brushing his thumb across my lower lip before he continued. “But once I got here, I knew you were close. I could feel it. You’re like…gravity,” he said, the last no more than a whisper.

“I feel it, too,” I confessed, lost in the magic of the moment.

“I know,” he said. “You practically vibrate with it. You even pull me into your dreams.”

I felt my cheeks warm again. What was it with this guy and making me blush? “You know about that?”

“Yeah. At first I didn’t understand what was happening, but it didn’t take me long to put two and two together and figure it out. And then I saw the clearing…”

“I-I—” I stammered, not knowing what to say, humiliated beyond description.

“I haven’t been able to get you out of my mind since I first saw you—in the woods, covered in blood. I knew it had to be you I was feeling.”

Derek bent his head toward mine and I closed my eyes, lips tingling in anticipation.

And then the phone rang.

With a frustrated sigh, Derek stepped away from me and disappeared into the kitchen. I heard him answer the phone then his end of a conversation with someone he obviously knew. It sounded like someone was asking if I was awake. When he reappeared, he confirmed my suspicions.

“It’s Leah. You up for a visitor?”

What I really wanted was more time with Derek, for a multitude of reasons, but I knew that I could hide no longer. It was time to pick myself up and get back in the game. It’s what Dad would’ve wanted. He always used to tell me he didn’t raise a quitter. Like never before, I hoped he was right.

Less than half an hour after we hung up, Leah was hauling a huge overnight bag through my door. She informed me that since she knew I wouldn’t come and stay with her, she was going to stay with me.

“At least for the weekend,” she clarified with a grin. She flounced off down the hall, curls bouncing, to put her things in my room, leaving me alone with Derek for a few more minutes.

“Do your thing with Leah. I’ll see you Sunday night.”

When I saw the promise in his eyes, I couldn’t help the stupid grin that tugged at my lips. I nodded and turned away to walk him to the door. I opened it and, as Derek moved past me, I realized that I was already missing him. And that was completely ridiculous.

Even though he had already stepped down onto the stoop, I still had to look up into his eyes when he stopped and turned back to me. He was enormous. And he was mesmerizing.

“I won’t be far,” he said. Glancing over my shoulder, presumably to check for Leah’s presence, Derek must’ve surmised that the coast was clear because he dipped his head and quickly grazed my cheek with his lips.

I stood at the door, watching him mount his bike and drive away. When he was out of sight, I shut the door. With a gargantuan effort, I pushed him from my mind, determined to give Leah my full attention, no matter how difficult it was. And believe me, it was difficult.

********

Sunday arrived before I knew it. Though initially I’d had my doubts, I had really enjoyed my time with Leah. Surprisingly, she was just what I needed. I was forced to ignore all the insane aspects of my life in favor of just being a teenage girl having a sleepover. We diligently avoided all sensitive topics, which really just included my father and Stephen because Leah had no idea what other issues I was dealing with. But it seemed that pretending everything was alright and slipping out of the drama for a while was a good change of pace. It was clarifying and cleansing in ways that I hadn’t expected.

And for the most part, it went off without a hitch. Things got a little hairy at night and at dinnertime. It didn’t take me long to figure out that those were going to be the two most difficult times of the day for me.

I doubt that dinner is a painful experience for many people, but it was proving to be an extremely emotional time for me. I’d shared a thousand dinners with my dad over the years. And if I’d ever realized it, I’d never really acknowledged the fact that he was the one consistent thing in my life. No matter where we were—what town, what house, what state—he had always been there for dinner. Always. And it hurt me now to know that I’d taken him for granted all these years.

The other challenge was nighttime. My sleep was poor at best. My dreams were chaotic, some riddled with glimpses of that same black house, of faces in the shadows and something haunting me, hunting me. Others were images of my father, some real, some imagined. I woke dozens of times each night, soaked in sweat, heart pounding, tears streaming down my face. With each rising sun, I became more and more exhausted.

So this morning, at an obscenely early hour, I exited my room as quietly as possible and padded into the kitchen to start some coffee. As I scooped the fragrant grounds from the canister, I thought again of Dad telling me it’d stunt my growth. I smiled despite the pain that gnawed at my heart.

As I put the coffee can away, I noticed a stack of mail behind the sugar jar. I had been so self-absorbed and grief-stricken lately, it hadn’t occurred to me to ask if someone had been getting the mail; evidently they had.

I pulled out the stack of envelopes and flipped through them. Most were the usual accumulation of bills—electric, water, cable, phone—and junk mail, but one piece looked out of the ordinary so I turned my attention to it first.

The plain manila envelope was thick and had nothing on the front but for the two address labels and a stamp. On the label in the center of the envelope was my name and address, typed in a neat font. On the label in the upper left corner was an unfamiliar name and address. I thought it had the ring of a law firm—Lewis, Lewis and Schmidt. The return address was for a town in Ohio.

As the coffeemaker gurgled and hissed, I perched on the edge of a barstool to open the mysterious package. Out of it I pulled a packet of papers, fastened together with a big alligator clip. Lying loose on top of the bound papers was a cover letter typed on heavy, high-quality stock. As I suspected, Lewis, Lewis and Schmidt was a law firm and evidently this letter was from the desk of Byron Allsley.

Dear Carson:

I was so sorry to hear about your father. He and I have known each other since before you were born. He was a good man and he’ll be greatly missed.

I helped your father with the legal technicalities that arose when he and your mother separated. Since then I have handled many of his private and financial affairs as well as various things of a more delicate nature, things he wouldn’t entrust to a stranger. It is in regards to some of those matters that I am contacting you.

Firstly, you will find a plain white envelope clipped to the front of the enclosed package. It is a letter that your father asked me to get to you in the event he did not return from his recent trip.

Secondly, you will find a variety of statements and documents that will, for the present, mean very little to you, though they are of great importance and should be kept in a secure location. They pertain to your father’s considerable estate. He has been saving and investing money for many years with the sole intention of providing you with financial stability and independence in the event of his untimely death.

Until you turn eighteen, the trust, of which I am Trustee, will issue you a monthly stipend that will more than cover your living expenses. Included in the enclosed packet is the checkbook, register, and debit card for that account and all the pertinent access and contact information.

Thirdly, in deference to you, your father has made me Executor of his will. Therefore, you won’t be bothered with all the minutia of settling his estate. The most important thing is that all his possessions are yours, free and clear of any liens. That includes the house and only the one vehicle. As a result of the accident, there were extensive damages to his truck. The insurance adjustor totaled it.

Should you have questions, and I’m sure you will, please don’t hesitate to call me.

I skimmed through the remainder of the letter where he expressed his condolences again and then listed phone numbers at which he was reachable.

Private and financial affairs? My dad? And a trust fund? That sounded like we were rich. What else was there that I didn’t know about my family, about my life? It seemed like a never-ending string of revelations lately—shocking revelations.

Putting Mr. Allsley’s letter aside, I plucked the envelope from beneath the clip and ripped it open. A lump formed in my throat when I saw that it was penned in my father’s bold, clear handwriting.

Carson:

Time ran out on me, kiddo, faster than I ever thought it would. I want you to know I wouldn’t have taken this trip if I’d felt like there was any other way, especially since it turned out like this. Maybe I made a little progress at least. You’ll know soon enough.

I am setting out today to find your mother, do something I should’ve done a long time ago. I want to find your sister. I believe we can save her, Carson. Of course, now it’s not “we”, it’s “you”. It’s all up to you. I don’t know what’s ahead for either of you, but I have faith in God’s plan, in His perfect will. And to Him, there are no lost causes. He’ll see you through whatever the future holds.

Don’t grieve for me, butterfly. I’ve moved on to a better place, a place where I can see you again one day. Don’t forget that.

I love you more than I could ever say. You are the most amazing thing I’ve ever done, my most valued treasure. You’re truly a light in the darkness.

Don’t give up. There’s always another way, another choice, another option. Make the most out of every minute. Do what you say and say what you mean.

Dad





The letter was typical of my father—short, to the point, without wasted sentiment. Even through my tears I had to laugh at the Porter wisdom he’d managed to impart there at the last. He had a saying for every occasion. Had.

I don’t know how long I sat in the kitchen like that, thinking, reminiscing, worrying, but it was long enough for Leah to be up and about.

When she stumbled into the kitchen, still half asleep, I poured us each a hot cup of coffee and put the envelope away for the time being. I’d bring it all out and mull it over after she’d gone.

Though I’m sure she could tell I was distracted, Leah and I still had a pleasant enough day. She undoubtedly expected some odd behavior from me, all things considered.

Her mom called just before supper, asked if I’d come home with Leah and eat with them. I politely declined with the excuse that I had some things to take care of around the house. I could tell she wanted to argue, but, wisely, she thought better of it and said nothing.

With Leah gone, I had some blessed peace. It was bittersweet, though. The quiet seemed so much more quiet, the encroaching darkness so much more threatening, the future so much more bleak. It did give me time, however, to hatch the beginnings of a plan, the first step in which was to get Derek to teach me how to “wield” as he called it. If I was to go forward with any plan that involved staying to fight, I’d need to know how to fight. And not just the things Dad had taught me. I needed to master the supernatural things, the things that I could possibly use to save both me and my sister. If that was possible.