Turning back toward me, he chuckled. “This Airbnb is out of business.”
I pulled myself from the wall and took a couple of apprehensive steps toward Joe, trying to see what he was doing. He slid his hand into his pocket and faced the window again. Click. Click. Click. The drapes burst into flames. He clicked the lighter again and the other curtain caught on fire.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yelled.
Joe ignored my question and burst into a manic laugh. He tried to light the couch on fire, but it wouldn’t take.
I bolted to the kitchen, tearing through the cupboards in search of a fire extinguisher. When I couldn’t find one, I grabbed a bowl and filled it with water. Back in the living room, I felt arms wrap around me just as I was about to toss the water onto the burning curtains. The bowl slipped from my hands and fell to the floor, soaking my feet.
“Let it burn, Grace,” Joe whispered into my ear as he held me tight against his body. His hot breath irritated my skin. I stomped on his foot and tried to wiggle loose, but he was too strong. He held me firmly, laughing as the curtains burned.
“You’re hurting me.”
Joe ignored my words but loosened his grip enough so I could squirm out of it. I raised my arm, moved my hip to the side, and swung my fist into his groin. He groaned and crumpled to the floor. When I tried to run away, he caught my ankle, sending me crashing to the floor with him. I kicked with my other leg, struggling to free myself from his grip again. A cloud of smoke blanketed the ceiling. My breaths were quick and uncontrolled, and I was inhaling too much of it as a result. The smoke stung my eyes and burned as it entered my lungs, sending me into a coughing fit.
“I’m saving you, Grace,” he said. “From Calvin.”
My mouth dropped open, and he finally let go of my ankle, allowing me to scramble away.
40.
Calvin
I saw the fire as soon I pulled into the driveway. A flame danced in the living room window. I sped up, pressing my foot firmly against the gas pedal.
“Whoa, what’s the rush?” Albert asked as he sipped on his bottle of Jack, completely clueless. Some of the liquid dribbled down his chin and spilled onto his shirt.
“I told you not to drink that in here.”
He gathered the liquid from his chin and pushed it back up to his lips with his pointer finger.
I slammed on the brakes. “Grace,” I yelled as I jumped out of the truck and ran toward the house.
Inside, I found Grace crawling away from the burning drapes. The fire spread to the wall and ceiling, and the room was cloaked in smoke. Immediately, I sprinted to the kitchen, leaping over her. From beneath the sink, I snatched the fire extinguisher.
Just as I stood and turned, something whacked me in the face. Blood pooled from my nose, and it took me a moment to realize Joe was standing right in front of me, seething with balled-up fists. He was dirty and bloody and didn’t look anything like my brother. Thick, angry veins covered his neck and arms. His eyes were black like two pieces of coal had been shoved into his face.
“What did you do?!”
“What I should have done a long time ago,” he said, winding his arm back.
When he swung, I blocked it with the fire extinguisher. His knuckles cracked against the metal. He cried out in pain and tried to shake out his hand. His fingers wouldn’t straighten, and I knew right away, several had broken. I thrust the fire extinguisher into his jaw, reeling him backward. Joe collapsed to the ground, and the back of his head slammed against the floor. He was out cold. I stepped over him and ran toward the living room. Grace was gone. Albert coughed on smoke while swatting the curtains with pillows.
“Stand back,” I yelled.
He looked over at me, dropped the pillows to the floor, and moved out of the way. I swept the fire extinguisher back and forth over the curtains and the wall, not stopping until the fire was completely out. I wouldn’t let this place go up in flames again.
Dropping the fire extinguisher on the couch, I heard the floor creak behind me. Joe leaned against the kitchen table, barely able to stand on his own. His eyes were so narrow, a piece of paper wouldn’t fit between his lids. I wasn’t sure he could even see me.
“Calvin the golden boy always saving the day.” Joe shook his head and let out a huff.
I threw my hands up. “What the fuck are you doing?” I took a few steps toward him, squaring up, ready to beat his ass again.
“It should have burned down the first time,” he said.
I tried to look him in the eyes, but it was like he was looking right through me. “How could you say something like that, Joe?”
He opened them a little more, making it clear he could see me. “The fire didn’t kill Mom and Dad. Mom killed Dad and then killed herself.”
“No, they died in the fire.” I shook my head. “You’re lying.”
I heard the screen door close behind me and quickly glanced back. Albert scurried out of the house.
“No, I’m not Calvin. Looks like you and Mom have something in common.”
I didn’t fully register what he was saying. I took a step back—actually, it was more like I fell back. My vision blurred. It was like I was looking at my surroundings through a dirty windowpane. All this time and no one, not one damn person told me the truth about my own parents—about what happened to them. Who knew? Obviously, the sheriff’s department and Dr. Reed. Did Betty know? Did Wyatt? Charlotte? Did this whole fucking town know?
“You’re lying,” I said in disbelief.
“You know I’m not the liar in the family.” He shifted his stance, trying to stand upright on his own. But his body slumped to one side. “You are. There’s a darkness here. Can’t you feel it?” Joe stagged past me, through the living room and toward the front door. “I know you can feel it, Calvin, because it’s in you too.”
The screen door slammed behind him. Sirens roared in the distance. I was about to chase after him when I remembered Grace. My eyes went wide, and I bolted down the hallway. Her room was pitch-black and still. A draft of wind came whooshing in from the window, blowing up the curtains. I flicked on the lights.
“Grace,” I called out.
The screen had been removed, and the window was pushed all the way open.
“Grace!” I yelled, sticking my head out the window.
I couldn’t see anything outside, just darkness and the red-and-blue lights in the distance. I put one foot up on the windowsill but paused when I heard a rustle in the closet. Placing my foot back on the floor, I pulled open the closet door. The end of a closed umbrella hit me right in the chest and I wheezed, falling backward.
Grace held the umbrella in her shaky hands.
I gasped for air and pressed my fist against my sternum right where she drilled me. “Grace,” I gasped. “Are you okay?”
She nodded several times; the umbrella shook in her hands as she held it like a bat ready to swing again. I got to my feet and wrapped my arms around her.