As I tiptoe toward the door, I catch site of the leg sticking out of the closet. How could I have forgotten about it? I motion for Cicely to stay back and reverse course to check it out, hoping against hope that I’m wrong. That maybe the people who live here have a thing for mannequins with painted toenails.
But, no. There’s a real woman in there, her messy hair laced with white, her eyes wide in terror as they fixate on something no longer there. Her body is bent at a funny angle, like it’d been a twig, and somebody carelessly snapped it and tossed it aside.
I have to count to thirty before my anger simmers in the background.
I wonder where the man was from before, the neurosurgeon that probably was no longer of any use to Enlilkian now that he has Cicely. Is this his wife? Partner? Is he still in this house? Or is there a closet holding his body, too?
First things first. Get Cicely to safety. Kill as many mothereffers as I can on the way out.
We find the first one watching television in a room down the hallway, its back to us. The set is on loud; an action movie is on, one I’ve seen before with Jonah just months before. And that burns me like nothing else ever could, knowing this sonofabitch gets to watch this godsawful movie right now, and Jonah ... he can’t.
My fingers curl into fists. I strong arm myself to not go nuclear. But by gods, they will pay.
Nivedita’s body is still, almost as if somebody got to it before me. And that won’t do. I want to extract my price from its existence. Nobody else should get that pleasure.
I motion for Cicely to stand watch in the hallway. Crow like a bird if you see someone, I tell her via paper. She nods and flattens her back against the wall. I make myself some special shoes, ones that will hide any sound I might make from foot against floor, and sneak inside.
The Nivedita Elder makes a noise right as I come up behind it, one of surprise. I go still, waiting for its head to whip around, but it takes only a pair of seconds to realize it’s reacting to the television.
The bad guy just got blown up. How deliciously ironic.
My hands clamp down on its shoulder, just like its did on Jonah. And then I whisper as it jerks in my hands, “You no longer exist, bitch.”
I don’t mind falling against the chair when it disappears. That’s two.
I creep back into the hallway; Cicely is tight as a wire as her eyes swing back and forth between entry points. I switch her shoes over to the same kind I’ve made for myself and hop up and down to show her we don’t have to worry about sound.
Her smile that forms, the first I’ve seen from her so far, is adorable.
I hold up five fingers and smile myself before lowering one. Three to go, including Enlilkian.
We’re at the end of the hallway when the house begins to tremble. Cicely grabs onto me, fear twisting her sweet features. Howling winds pound at the walls, glass nearby rattles. But that’s not what has her on edge; somewhere in the house, Enlilkian bellows in anger, ordering people outside. Take care of them, I think he’s thundering. It’s a little hard to hear him over the din, though.
I quickly yank Cicely into a nearby closet. As I’m not the one causing the windstorm outside, I can only hope it means there is a Magical out there fighting back. Maybe one who lost the thing most precious to them.
I bend down and take Cicely’s hands. “Is your mom or dad an Elemental?”
She shakes her hand, her little fingers gripping mine like she’s afraid to let go. “Mommy is a Tide. Daddy is a Shaman like me.”
Hope, even as small as it is, sprouts inside of my deadened chest. Could the Guard be here? Could our chances really have improved so quickly?
I smooth her curls around her head, careful not to touch the scabbed, raw patch of skin missing blonde strands. “Don’t be scared. I think that might be a friend of mine outside.”
It’s her turn to touch my face, right on the cheekbone she tried so hard to heal. “You’re the Creator, aren’t you?”
So she does know me after all. I tell her, “I am, sweetie.”
“Mommy says you can do anything.”
Not anything. But I can do enough to make sure Cicely gets back to her mommy. I couldn’t save Jonah, but I can do my damndest to save this little girl.
“Why are you crying?” One of her thumbs wipes my cheek. “Do you still hurt?”
Yes, I want to tell her. Yes. My chest hurts so bad right now that it’s hard to breathe.