Calico walked back into the living room on unsteady feet. Shaking violently, she dropped into a crouch to keep from falling.
Cait Sidhe was gone.
After several moments, Calico stood and careened to the dining room table for her purse and phone. Several voicemails and texts from Mom and Dad popped up when she turned it on.
She didn’t take the time to read or listen to them. She brought up the Uber app as she weaved to the front door while also frenetically looking for the shadow. She heard furtive sounds all around, amplified by terror.
Calico clawed at the door. Getting it open, she surged forward and jammed her shoulder into the frame. Bouncing off, she slammed the door closed behind her and ran to the sidewalk. With violently shaking hands, she managed to summon a car. She was in no condition to drive.
Then she tried texting Mom and Dad to tell them she was on her way over, but all she could manage was: “Sour time flavor weekend.” Her mind wouldn’t settle down enough to fix the autocorrect. She shoved her phone in her purse. She’d be there in twenty minutes.
She looked back at her townhouse. The front, which never bothered her before, now looked like it belonged in The Amityville Horror. Her body wouldn’t stop shaking, her teeth chattered.
Someone touched her and she screamed—a bloodcurdling scream like she used to practice as a little girl. A young woman about her age jerked back and fell into the side of a blue car with an Uber light in the front window. How’d it get here so fast?
Calico tried to say sorry, but words didn’t form, so she stumbled to the back door, yanked it open and peered inside. There were dark areas beneath the seat. She fumbled for the flashlight on her phone as the woman came to her.
“Are you okay? You scared the crap out of me.” The woman looked behind Calico. “Did someone hurt you? Want me to call the police?”
She ignored the fucking questions and got the flashlight turned on, shining the light along the floor mats, under the front seats, and under the back seat. The shadows all fled before the light. She crawled inside. The woman, looking confused and a bit freaked, reluctantly closed the door and then walked around and got into the car. She turned and looked at Calico sprawled across the seat.
“I’m calling the cops, okay?”
Calico shook her head. “N-no! Drive. Parents.”
“I’m taking you to your parents?”
Calico nodded. The driver seemed okay with that information. Scenery started moving past the windows.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Calico was home. That’s how it always felt visiting Mom and Dad, even though she’d moved out on her own two years earlier. They lived in the Lakewood suburbs about fifteen minutes outside of Denver. Houses built in the ‘70s with brick facades, big back yards, and space between neighbors.
Her folks had been in the neighborhood long enough that much of their generation had moved away, replaced by the kids who now had kids. On this summer morning, the sun bright and hot, children played outside of several houses.
The normalcy felt as unreal as the nightmare of her attack. Her jangled nerves had settled a bit during the drive. Her teeth stopped chattering though she was still cold. A weight, however, pressed down on her. She’d hit the wall and her mind was shutting down. The hangover wasn’t helping, or maybe she was still drunk, she couldn’t tell anymore.
The Uber driver didn’t leave until Calico opened the front door and waved. She stepped into a beige-tiled foyer, carpeted living room to her right, carpeted stairs to the second floor straight ahead. The bedrooms were up there. One for Mom and Dad and one each for the girls. Well, not anymore. Calico’s bedroom was a craft room and Tabby’s was a guest room. She skirted the stairs. Behind it was a hallway leading to the TV room and an office both parents used. Along the back wall of the living room was a doorway into a large kitchen.
“Hello?”
Mom sprang from the office as if she’d been crouched just inside the door waiting on the starter’s pistol. “Why the hell didn’t you—” She froze, looking concerned. “What happened?”
Dad stepped out of the kitchen holding a green metal watering can for flowers. “We’ve been trying to get hold of you.”
“I was attacked.”
“What?” Dad switched on Defensive Mode as though expecting someone to leap out at them right then. He set the watering can down inside the kitchen and hurried to her.
Mom moved close. “Are you okay?”
“Who was it? Did you know him?” asked Dad, looking her over. “I’m calling the cops.”
Almost whispering, Calico said, “Not a person.”
Mom’s eyes went wide, and Dad looked confused, saying, “An animal?”
“A shadow.” She lifted her head to show them her neck. Would they see a bruise there or had it all been in her head, like Cait Sidhe?
Mom reached out but didn’t touch her daughter’s throat. “It strangled you?”
Calico nodded.
“How—how did you escape?”
She was pretty sure the question was: “Why aren’t you dead?”
Calico tried to answer. Her mouth opened to speak, but instead she started shaking again and tears spilled from her eyes as both Mom and Dad tried to hug her at the same time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
Calico sat on the couch in the living room, wrapped in a Colorado Rockies blanket, only her head and one hand sticking out. She held a mug of hot chocolate Dad had just made—his answer for a lot of troubles. Thing is, it usually helped. She sipped at it, her eyes heavy.
Mom came back, carrying a large leather-bound book, one of the family chronicles. Mom was as thin and in shape as Calico, though a couple of inches taller, with shoulder-length auburn hair with natural curl to it. Her face was sprinkled with freckles that, like Calico, she didn’t hide behind makeup. Her skin was still tight, making her look more like an older sister than a mom. Also like Calico, she didn’t have Tabby’s or Aunt Patrice’s strength and speed.
Sitting on the couch with Calico, Dad sipped at his own hot chocolate. Unlike either of them, he was getting a gut. The same age as mom, he looked like he was in his fifties with little smile lines on his amiable face and reddish-orange hair fading in both color and volume, a beard trimmed neat that was mostly white, surrounded by his own array of freckles and sunspots.
He held his mug out to Mom as she sat down. She reached across and took it. Setting the book on her lap, she took a couple of sips and handed it back.
Calico glanced sideways at her. “Any word from Tabby or Aunt Patrice?”
Her voice tight, Mom said, “Not yet.”
“I’m sure they’re fine,” said Dad.
They sat in silence for nearly a minute, Mom opening the book and pretending to read, Dad staring off across the room. Calico knew they were waiting for her to tell her story. She shivered again and Dad rubbed her arm through the blanket.
She began. “I was in my living room and there was this weird shadow, like a little cloud, hanging in the air in the middle of the room.” She looked at Mom. “Ever hear of anything like that before?”
She shook her head. “Not off-hand.”
Calico sipped. “Well, the thing grabbed me. Clung to my arm.” She pulled her left arm out and held it up. “It was so cold. I tried to get it off me. It moved up to my throat and choked me. I couldn’t breathe. I—I thought I was going to die.”
Both parents murmured in distress, but they didn’t interrupt her.
“I was—I was passing out when I suddenly see this little pinpoint of light.” She squinched up her face, seeing the light in front of her, pointing at it. “Honestly, I thought it meant I’d died.”
More distressed murmurs.
“So the light gets bigger and there was this scream—”
Mom frowned. “You screamed?”
Calico shook her head and looked into Mom’s green eyes. “It was the shadow. Except I don’t think it was out loud. I think I heard it inside my head. I t
hink the light hurt it, but instead of running away or whatever, it dragged me into this, like, complete darkness. Totally black. And the place was filled with fear.”
Dad rubbed her arm again. She looked at him. “Not like I was afraid. No, it was like I was surrounded by fear. Like the darkness was fear—wrapping itself around me.”
“And?”
“Then some guy grabs me and hauls me out.” She chuckled as she started crying again. “I know, right? This guy’s hand just appears in the darkness. Out of nowhere. And grabs me. Yanks me the hell outta there.”
“Who was it?”
Calico wiped at her eyes. Dad reached behind him and grabbed several tissues from a box on the side table. She blew her nose and balled up all the tissues, kneading them in one hand like dough. “No idea. After he pulled me from the darkness, I was alone on my living room floor. No shadow. No guy. Then I came straight here.”
There was more silence as they digested her story.
Finally, Dad looked at Mom. “What do you suppose it was?”
Mom shrugged, looking confused and a little stunned. She patted the book in her lap. “I’ll get more of the tomes and we can start going through them. See if we can find a similar story.”
Dad said, “Maybe she should rest first?”
Mom glanced over. She didn’t nod right away.
“It’s okay,” said Calico. “Let’s start.”
Mom was off the couch before Calico had finished talking. “I’ll be right back. We’ll convene at the dining room table in fifteen.”
Dad pushed himself up. “We need more hot chocolate.”
Calico got off the couch, leaving the blanket behind. If she didn’t, she’d fall asleep. Following Dad into the kitchen, she went to the part of the counter that jutted out from the wall as a breakfast nook. She didn’t use one of the stools, hoisting herself backwards up onto the counter to watch Dad work his magic.
“How are you holding up, sweet girl?”
“Honestly? Pretty shitty. I was out dancing and drinking with friends last night, couldn’t sleep because of the whatever-it-was about Tabby, and then the shadow thing this morning. What the hell, Dad?”
He smiled sadly, turning on the gas stove under the sauce pan he’d already used. Opening a new quart of half-n-half, he poured it all into the pan. “It’s a lot to process.”
“I just hope I was hallucinating about Tabby.”
He glanced over at her with a strange look.
“What?” she asked.
“Your mom’s had visions, too.”
“Seriously?”
He nodded. “I’ll let her tell you about them.”
“How long’s she had them?”
“I don’t know, most of her life, I’d imagine.”
“Geez. Yesterday I was abso-fucking-lutely positive all this bullshit was bullshit. Now I’ve had a vision and been attacked by a dark creature. Gotta tell ya, I’m still pinning my hopes on being batshit crazy.”
Dad frowned at the half-n-half and adjusted the flame. “It was—difficult for me to believe.”
Calico hadn’t thought about that. “Yeah. You came from a family that didn’t believe any of this. You grew up normal, like the rest of the world. I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about that before. I mean, to me, you’ve always believed. But you must have been a non-believer before you met Mom. Wow, I can be stupid sometimes.”
“Please don’t bash yourself.”
“Oh. Sorry.” Dad hated it when she put herself down, regardless of how slight it might have been. “So why didn’t you think Mom was nuts?”
Dad chuckled. “Well, you do know I’m a guy, right? And your mom is beautiful. So in the early days, when she was easing me into her world, your world, I was pretty blind to everything except that this incredible woman seemed to actually like me. I was trying my best to not screw that up. And if she happened to believe in ghosts, no big deal. That’s how I thought of it, you know. I didn’t realize the full extent, just that your mom believed in some supernatural stuff. Other people believe in ghosts, so it was easy to just go with it. I believe in God, right? And angels. The Devil. What’s a few ghosts?”
“Ha. You were a total dude crushing on her.”
“You got that right.”
“But, still, how do you go from thinking Mom believes in ghosts to you yourself believing in monsters?”
“Well, your aunt was an eye-opener. I met your mom before Patty started her vigil. I’d watch her workout and just be amazed. She was so strong and fast, and boy could she fight. If she’d gone out for the Olympics, she’d be holding a whole bunch of world records and gold medals. I bet even now, in her fifties, she could outrun world-class sprinters half her age.”
“Yeah, but even still. So what if she’s physically talented? How did you go from seeing her to believing in the crazy stuff?”
“Well, to be honest, I kinda wanted to believe. I’d always found the supernatural fascinating. Read my fair share of horror and fantasy and stuff like that. And then when Tabby was born and she showed the same physical traits as Patty, I don’t know. It just wasn’t that difficult for me.”
“And I chose not to believe.”
Dad nodded. “But that’s okay. You have to do what’s right for you.”
“That’s not what Mom thinks.”
He tilted his head to the side. “She’s had a tough time with your, uh, lack of faith, shall we say. But you know she loves you and she’s letting you live your life, isn’t she?”
“I guess so.”
“You guess so?” He actually looked a little pissed. “Do you have a jewelry studio in your basement we helped pay for? Yes. Were you out with friends into the wee hours? Yes. Are you over here every day studying the family chronicles? No. Give her some credit.”
Dad was the laid back one, and even though this wasn’t much of an outburst—or even technically an outburst at all—it felt like he’d just slapped her upside the head.
“I’m sorry I’m such a—”
“Don’t.”
She stopped talking.
Dad continued. “It isn’t easy thinking monsters are real. That they’re out there hunting humans for food and sport and whatever. It’s nuts. I get it. And it sure as hell isn’t easy to think that my sister-in-law and daughter are natural-born warriors with druid blood running through their veins. That they’re out there right now hunting something down. Trying to keep the rest of us safe.”
Calico felt numb. She hadn’t really thought about it like that, either. They were hunting. They were in some town somewhere in America hunting and killing real-life monsters. She still felt weird thinking “real-life monsters,” even after the attack. And throughout her family’s history, there had been pairs of sisters bonded to each other and dedicated to stopping these things. Well, until she came along and was too scared to commit. Too scared to give up a normal life. Oh, shit.
“It’s in my blood,” whispered Calico.
“What?”
She looked at Dad. “It’s in my blood, too. I’m not a warrior, but I have the druid bloodline in my veins. And if I don’t—I mean, it’s not like Tabby can stop what she’s doing and push out two girls. Holy crap.”
Her mind buzzed as loudly as when she’d found herself on the floor of her living room after the shadow attack. She’d never thought seriously about having kids. Hell, she still felt like a kid, herself. She sure as shit never realized until that very fucking moment that it was up to her to procreate to continue her family’s bandruí bloodline.
Hol-eeee shit!
Dad stared at her. “Are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
He grimaced and half shrugged. “But, you know, it’s better you figured that out now than in, say, sixty years.”
Was her head exploding? It felt like her head was exploding. “Does he have to be Irish?”
“Who?”
“The guy I marry—or the guy who gets me knocked up. Think I could run down to
the sperm bank and withdraw Irish sperm?”
“Eww, yeah, don’t really want to think about the details.”
Calico forced a smile as she screamed on the inside, using humor to mask her terror. Mom came back into the kitchen holding three large leather-bound volumes of family history.
“What are you two talking about?”
“Sperm,” they said at the same time.
She and Dad both laughed—that belly-laugh-can’t-control-it laugh, tears streaming down their faces as they gasped for air. Though for Calico it was that my-life-is-so-fucking-out-of-control-so-I-better-laugh laugh.
“Nice,” said Mom.
They laughed harder.
Dad finally gasped, “Oh, shit, the milk.” It was starting to boil over the side of the pan. He kept laughing as he moved the pan, switched off the gas, and grabbed the tin on the counter full of semi-sweet chocolate chips. He made so much hot chocolate that he had a special tin on the counter for the chocolate. Hence his growing belly.
Their laughter ebbed, turning to chuckles and hiccupping sounds, followed by the final obligatory sigh.
“Oh, man,” said Dad, pulling the lid off the tin. He scooped a dozen heaping spoonfuls of chips into the scalded half-n-half, then took a small whisk from the sink and went to town.
“Should I be worried?” asked Mom.
Calico jumped from the counter. “It just dawned on me I have to have kids—girls, actually, to continue the bloodline. You know, the usual worries of a twenty-two-year-old.”
“Ah,” said Mom. “We do need to talk about that, but baby steps first?”
Calico looked at her sideways. “Was that supposed to be a joke?”
Mom winced. “I’m not sure. Let’s look through these and see if we can find your shadow.”
Calico took three of the books and walked with Mom into the dining room. “Dad says you’ve had these visions before.”
“My premonitions? Yes. My entire life.”
Dark Vigil Page 8