All went dark. I whirled around to look for the beacon and the beings. Static rippled across space as if someone had switched channels. Everything vanished except for the solitary light radiating from my own form, which cast enough glow to catch the silhouette of my wings. By the outline and steady beating, they were real, blacker than the blackness surrounding me. No time to marvel the appendages. The urge to escape this place set me in motion, except I didn’t know which direction I flew, the entire universe dark.
No light in the deep dark abyss?
In answer to my unease, an immense pressure squeezed me, crushing my lungs, paralyzing my limbs and wings. The life-sucking vacuum wrung me out like a wet rag. The wee light that radiated from my being began to fade. Before panic took hold, I glanced around and discovered the cause.
A massive, dark maelstrom rolled toward me from all sides. This spiraling cosmos of turquoise and golden gases stretched to infinity. I hovered helplessly within its dark center as the effervescent gases swirled around me, growing denser. My skull pounded. A thunderous voice hammered my mind.
“You’re mine. I created you. Athorsis demands it. Be ready.”
“No one owns me,” I countered telepathically. The space imploded and a rushing force expelled my body from the all-consuming black hole. My eyes flew open and I wheezed a long breath as if I had been holding it for hours.
The wide-open eyes of Jesse Rivers greeted me. “Easy, big guy. Didn’t mean to startle you.”
My chest constricted, I focused on his angular face. Native and African American by descent, Jesse possessed an organic manner that managed to pull me back to earth.
“Liz has the DNA results,” Jesse said.
Still shaken, my hands fingered the hair out of my face. “Give me a sec.” I stared out the window to recoup my senses. The nightmare had thrown me off kilter. This nightmare—bad trip—took the prize as one of the nastiest of the unworldly visits. The life-crushing pressure, intense loneliness, and madness triggered my fear of undergoing a relapse. It felt like the episodes weren’t dreams at all, but my inept ability to travel time or travel to parallel universes. Incompetence to turn it off and stay home weakened the fight. I dared not think of what might happen if I lost the battle—lost my sanity.
Chilled, I stood up and stretched out the kinks as I glanced around the DNA lab. Ariane’s business, COLT, relied on Jesse’s contact to run routine DNA tests. This time, however, the samples were personal—Sabree’s DNA along with my own. Weeks had passed since our narrow escape from the immortal. When we returned home from Scotland, I gave Jesse the hair samples to run during Thanksgiving break. I inhaled a lungful and focused on the here and now. Liz Abbott spoke to Jesse as she carried a few slides over to the DNA analyzer.
“Hey, the family’s getting together for turkey dinner at Nana’s around two,” Liz said. “You’re welcome to join us, but I’d rather not invite your Goth friend if you know what I mean.”
“Sounds delish, but Brian’s cool.” Jesse’s five-foot-six frame leaned over her. He misplaced his glasses and had to squint at the monitor to examine the DNA results in detail. “Brian, get over here. They’re ready.”
Me Goth? I glanced down at my black jeans and sweater. My pale complexion amidst the Valley of the Sun residents might have influenced her belief. My lips curved upward.
Liz readjusted the focus. “The sample labeled S is neither human nor animal. B has a trace of identical patterns that match S along with human DNA, but the sample’s too noisy. I cannot decipher these bizarre patterns.” She pointed at the screen. “I never saw such a unique sample.”
She twirled in her seat to face Jesse. In her mid-twenties, the forensic tech held a conservative air with her auburn hair pulled into a bun. The tiny freckles spattered across her rosy cheeks and nose softened her overall appearance. “Mr. Rivers, are you trying to pull a fast one on me?”
Confused by the outcome, I answered for Jesse. “No. Only one sample has partial human DNA. Are you sure, Miss Abbott?”
“Positive.” Her fingers tapped the keyboard to display the results once more. She studied the screen and twisted in her seat to face me, her cheeks ruddier than usual. “Could be alien DNA.”
The news stunned me. “Aye, you caught me red-handed,” I whispered sarcastically. “I raided Area 51 and pulled out some alien’s blond hair.” If what she said was true, then Ariane and I might be partially human. It also validated the similarities that connected all three of our DNA. The noisy code worried me. We were a unique species. My fingers brushed the loose strands of wavy hair and tucked them behind my ear to join the rest pulled into a short ponytail. I flashed Jesse a troubled look when he rolled his eyes the way my sister always did. “What?”
Jesse stood and whispered, directing his voice to me only. “You need to dial down the crazy; Liz knows her stuff.”
“The brunet hair sample carries the A-factor, not the blond.” Liz snapped. “A for alien that is. Where’d you get these?” Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the top of my head. “The blond strand was tough going, but fortunately it had some nucleated corneocytes present. The brunet however…” Liz continued to stare at my hair.
She’s too close to figuring this out. I hid behind a deadpan gaze. “Corneocytes, lucky me. Print the results and delete the data from the hard drive. I’ll hire a professional.” I expected the off-the-wall results but lied anyway. In due time, I would find a specialist to retest and decipher the DNA code. Then again, Ariane knew how to decode DNA if only she had access to the essential laboratory equipment. Unlike our blood, Sabree mentioned the Fallen’s hair follicles and nails were the only bodily evidence containing DNA, which didn't turn to dust when exposed to air. Since the clans’ exile on Earth, proof of their existence had never been a threat until humanity developed this latest technology.
“Fine, waste your money. You’ll end up with the same results.” Liz huffed as she entered several commands into the keyboard and then crossed the room to retrieve the printout. “Here.”
Minutes later, after calling Uber, I gathered my things and thanked Jesse and Liz on the way out into the brisk early morn. My thoughts were solely on the implication of the DNA results.
A horn blasted.
I cursed the unease that kept me distracted as I climbed into the vehicle. Although thirty miles to Cave Creek, I had only enough fare to make it most of the way home. I’d have to walk the final three miles.
The driver made a U-turn, screeching the tires to declare his anger for receiving no tip. The Uber vehicle almost clipped a silver Porsche parked two hundred feet down the road with its headlights off, although darkness veiled the early dawn. I could barely make out if anyone sat in the driver’s seat.
Certain dread crept up my spine, urging me to head home. The car followed, maintaining its distance. The well-tuned engine purred while the wheels crunched sand.
My mind raced. Who was behind the wheel? Wayde or maybe one of the Fallen? I looked skyward to make sure the airborne rogue wasn’t circling overhead. Either assailant cut deep into my psyche. After a quick glance at my phone, I broke into a steady jog without letting on that intimidation hastened my pace. Another quarter mile and I would be home free.
I whispered my thanks when the gravel driveway to our house came into view. Running a hundred-yard dash would get me there within seconds. Strength and speed were favorable attributes to my transformation. My abilities had increased in potency each day, especially when I sharpened the skills. So far, maybe still too soon, I had not yet mastered the ins and outs of moving faster than the eye could detect. The glitches arose from my inability to determine when I was speeding and how to control the acceleration at will. Sometimes it just happened.
The motor revved. As I checked the vehicle’s distance, the Porsche pulled alongside me and skidded to a stop. Tinted windows hid the occupant. Before I could take off, the car sped beyond the driveway, spun a one-eighty, and accelerated. It screeched to a stop in front of me. Fro
m inside, glowing red orbs, framed by an ashen mask, dissected me, penetrated my soul.
I couldn’t move, immobilized as if the road submerged my feet in cement. The driver-side window lowered enough for an envelope to sail out and flutter onto the pavement. The engine revved again. I jumped aside as the car lurched forward, fishtailing as it sped off.
A sigh whistled through my lips. Too close for comfort. I looked down at the envelope. Then glanced left and right to make sure the car was nowhere in sight before I picked it up. The envelope felt like crisp linen paper to the touch. Again, I stole a glimpse at where the car had sped off, fearful it might return.
My sneakers tore into the gravel and sand when I ran the hundred-yard dash, breaking the Olympic record tenfold. Unable to control the brakes, I slammed into the front door. One of the small glass panels cracked on impact. I whirled around for another look. The man driving the car had to be one of the Fallen. Maybe the clan replaced Sabree with a new recruit, whose gift was something other than misting.
Further inspection confirmed the neighborhood was again quiet. My body still buzzed from the adrenaline rush. I slipped inside, leaned against the door, and stared at the envelope, reluctant to open it. Bad news could wait. I tossed the envelope on the desk and headed straight to my bedroom where I collapsed on the bed.
3 3 3
Dream or bad trip number two about alien worlds woke me hours later. I climbed out of bed and walked over to the glass doors opening to the deck. My gaze drifted beyond the cedar beams to the ledge. A sudden bout of chills ravaged me. My teeth chattered until they ached. Rationing the pills to every three days was tolerable but quitting cold turkey the day before we returned from Scotland proved unbearable. Most of the withdrawal symptoms of chills, irritability, nausea, and the nagging hunger, quenched only by human blood would not subside.
Jesse had offered to bring home a couple of bags of blood to tide me over, but Ariane intervened and warned him never to bring any blood into our house. Sad how her lack of compassion came so easily while I dreaded the thought of her enduring even one millisecond of the monstrous affliction.
I let the curtain fall and walked down the hall into my office. I stared at the reason for the restless slumber—the envelope. The red eyes behind the tinted glass of the Porsche would forever brand my mind. Had Sabree returned from the dead already? Doubtful because the mist-happy immortal never impressed me as one in need of a vehicle, unless to stage a dramatic effect. Only one way to find out: tear open the envelope and read it myself.
“Duncan Colton was alive prior to your trip to Scotland. The bastard faked his own death because a DanJal traitor tipped him off about an attempt on his life. Wayde wanted him dead, so a few days before you arrived, I righted the wrong. I ripped into his neck and drank the coward dry. So, next we meet, besides ending you and your sister’s pathetic lives, I will get a copy of the journal. Yours truly, Blood Brother.”
Don’t panic, not now. Unless all of the Fallen wrote like Sabree, all signs pointed to him as the author. My worst fears confirmed, I lowered my face into the letter and squeezed my eyes shut. A whiff of residue caramel filled my nostrils. This explained the recent barrage of letters delivered from my father’s attorney. The ones I never bothered to open, believing them another ploy to find the journal. Duncan’s entire fortune now belonged to us.
News of inheriting a multi-million legacy had not yet registered. I kicked the trash can next to the desk and sent it rolling across the floor. My hands shook as I crumpled the letter into a ball and threw it at the wall. I cracked each knuckle to steady the shakes. Then I stared at the monitor. Was it really from Sabree? Crazed and dangerous like a vampiric Jack the Ripper waiting to strike? Or another immortal just as dangerous?
The front door slammed shut. I recognized it as Ariane’s usual return home. Hesitating at first, I drew in a breath and left to greet her, hoping she was alone. She wasn’t.
In front, Eric placed several bags onto the foyer floor. “I got stuck shopping again,” he said. “Pre-Black Friday sales. Go figure.” Slender and average in height, this native Arizonian’s pale complexion confirmed his passion for spelunking. Unlike Jesse’s bachelor’s degree in Medical and Clinical Laboratory Technology, Eric had enrolled in a certification course while he trained on the job. He claimed the only good that developed from his collaboration with Duncan was his partnership with Ariane.
China clinked inside one of the bags when it toppled over. Ariane cringed. “Careful,” she said, hanging her purse on the hall tree. She sorted through the mail next and dropped the bills when she saw me looking her way. “You’re paler than normal. What’s wrong?”
“What’s right?” I shrugged. “We need to talk.”
Eric grabbed the bag of groceries. “I’ll be in the kitchen heating up our precooked Thanksgiving dinner.”
“You look terrible,” she said to me. “Well?”
“I have bad and bad news. Not sure which is worse.” My sister paced the living room while I poured a tall glass of wine. Of late, a swig or two of alcohol eased the anxiety, especially now that I had to tell her about the DNA results. The wine numbed my inability to ignore her verbal comebacks.
“That bad?” she asked, eyeing the half-empty bottle.
“Liz Abbott ran the DNA samples. Looks like we have human, Fallen, and unidentified DNA. A-factor—A for alien—or noise to quote the lab tech. No surprise about the human DNA, our original selves, or the Fallen DNA that Pop infected us with. The A-factor is bizarre.”
“You ran a sample of Sabree’s hair along with your own. How does that affect me?”
“Hello? Twin thing.” To steady my nerves, I gulped the rest of the wine before delivering the rest of the bad news. First, I told her about Wayde’s hostile emails demanding the journal. I also wanted to tell her that someone broke into the house the other night. Tell her about the harassing phone calls and the uneasy sensation of someone watching us. Instead, I kept those details to myself.
She grasped the news well enough, but the letter would be the clincher. “Someone driving a Porsche tossed an envelope at me. Sabree? Guess three bullets weren’t enough to knock the bastard into a healing hibernation.” Ariane’s eyes showed no reaction. Thinking it odd, I handed her the crumpled letter.
Ariane read it to herself. “Do you think it’s Sabree? How will we know for sure?”
“Sure sounds like his rhetoric.” I hesitated when I caught my reflection in the goblet. Despair stared back. Several blinks freed my gaze enough to swallow the last of the wine, the alcohol giving me the courage to finish. “Never dreamt Sabree would survive never mind come after us. It might be another of the Fallen—the flyboy perhaps.”
My sister’s whispered curse burned my ears. Rarely did she resort to expletives. I lowered my head. “Whoever delivered this letter,” I said as I snatched the note from her grasp and tucked it under my arm, “confessed to killing Pop. I was right. He did fake his death. Abandoned us and hid for months, which explains why his lawyer delayed the reading of the will. Damn it, he knew about Wayde’s obsession to retrieve the journal.”
Ariane’s lower lip trembled. “Does Eric know?”
“Not yet. Don’t worry, though, I’ll keep my eyes open. In the meantime, ask Eric to spend more time here. In fact, offer him the guestroom.”
Following the trip to Scotland, Ariane had asked Eric to work full-time because of the steady influx of clients, never mind that funds were low and bills plentiful. The cost of the lab equipment was exorbitant.
For now, she employed me as her IT guy to conduct online research. My work alone earned most of the income for the business. More than likely, she hired me to keep me under her thumb. I tried to grant Ariane her wish but collecting the journal flash drives would eventually consume most of my time.
20
LET THE SCAVENGER HUNT BEGIN
T he silence was unbearable. Brian’s glare penetrated the imaginary barrier Ariane was hiding behind to avoid his qu
estions. Her fingers sifted through the mail as if they had sorted envelopes for years. She tossed the junk mail onto the floor by the trash can. The bills slid to a stop in front of Brian. While sorting, she continued to give him the cold shoulder.
“Anything good?” he asked.
“Spam, bills, spam, and more bills.”
“Call off the bill collectors. Pop’s millions, now ours, will be transferred to our account by the end-of-business-day tomorrow.” He slid the pile back to her.
The upward curve of her lips formed for however brief until she studied the envelope beneath the one stamped with a courthouse seal. “There’s a summons for jury duty and something for you without a return address. You get a lot of those lately.” For weeks, her brother had jumped at the slightest sound and snapped at her, pacing like a caged lion in a zoo. His nightmares and batty behavior worried her more, especially when he refused to confide in her.
Brian shrugged as his fingers tapped the mysterious envelope. She recognized the finger drumming as a way to relieve stress. “Maybe you should start taking the serum again.”
“Not happening.”
Disappointed in his quick response, Ariane checked her voicemail and listened to a bill collector from Stealth’s Forensic Lab, a hang up, and an urgent message from Jesse reminding her that the chemicals they ordered were on backorder. “More crap,” she said while she flipped the summons letter over.
She leaned in to study him from behind her bangs. She wished he’d throw a hint of how he really felt. Her aloof attitude probably gave him the impression that she purposely avoided talking about their troubled lives. Out of sight, out of mind usually made the ugly truth disappear. How could she admit what really bothered her?
Matters of the heart seemed trivial compared to her brother’s problems. He had seen through her emotions as though on display. Her feminine frailties betrayed her true feelings. Would her brother use his enhanced intuition to detect her romantic interest in Eric? Although the extra manpower helped, his request to have Eric move in surprised her. Was he anxious or just playing it safe?
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