It muttered and swore, its movements wild and uncoordinated. Rose stabbed it, getting its arm, its neck, angering it more and more.
You’re not going to die. The voice of the angel rose out of her subconscious, filling her with an anger that melted the ice. No. She wasn’t going to die. Kicking out, she connected with the creature’s head. Bones broke as the head snapped backward on its neck, so she kicked again.
And again.
She kicked until its head rolled to the grass and the wet, gray body twitched.
Out of breath, Rose braced her hands on her knees and stared in horror at what she’d done.
Not that she was sorry. But the thing lying in front of her would have to be explained.
Explain it.
Here it was. Finally. Proof.
The thought hadn’t occurred to her before the thing began to disintegrate.
“No!” she cried and took a step toward it. Skin flaked, turning ash-like, and the entire body collapsed in on itself. A gust of cold wind blasted across the marsh, scattering it across the grass and into the nearby woods.
Rose stared in disbelief at the place where the body had lain. There was nothing there. She took a step back. Her knees gave out, and she landed hard on her butt. In her hand, she held the knife and she dropped it.
Had she lost her mind?
Glancing down at herself, she studied her body. Her jeans were ripped, but the skin visible through the rends was unblemished. She could still feel its claws on her skin and hear its voice in her head. “Pretty girl.”
She slapped her hands over her ears, rocking back and forth as she tried to get herself together.
“Are you okay?” Launching to her feet, Rose spun. Behind her were two women clad in fleece coats with scarves around their necks. “We heard someone yelling.”
The wind blew again, sending a chill through her, and she realized she was crying. Quickly, she wiped her face on her shoulder and her hands on her jeans. “Yes.” Her voice shook. “I—the birds.” Her hand trembled as she demonstrated them flying out of the marsh. “It surprised me.”
“Do you want to walk back with us?” one of the women asked kindly. She had dark brown eyes, reminding Rose of her mother, and she suddenly wanted her mom so badly tears sprung to her eyes again.
Twenty-two years old and she wanted her mommy. “I’m okay,” she replied, swallowing the lump in her throat. “Thank you.”
The women seemed uncertain, but they continued on their way, leaving Rose alone. Moving slowly, she found her camera and placed the lens cover on it before putting it back in her bag. Then, like nothing was different about this day and she was just a girl on a walk, she slung her bag on her back and started toward the visitor’s center. Even though the sun was still shining, the day had taken on a dark, ominous quality.
Until this moment, Rose hadn’t realized that somewhere deep inside her mind she’d started to believe what everyone else had told her. She thought maybe she was wrong. She hadn’t seen a demon. Hadn’t seen an angel.
But she had.
Unless she had totally gone off the deep end, she’d just survived another attack from a creature almost identical to the one who had attacked her a decade ago.
The wind cut through the tears in her jeans and chilled the wet spot left on her neck from its mouth.
Proof.
This was the proof. She wanted to wipe it off, but she didn’t.
Making a split-second decision, Rose took off, running to the bus stop. Maybe there was something left on her body that could help Dr. Stone.
She didn’t delve too deeply into why she thought of him, but she did. After all, there was no one else alive who believed her.
5
Rose
The ride to the hospital passed in what seemed like seconds. Before she knew it, she was stumbling down the bus steps and back through the revolving door.
She stood in the entryway, trying to remember where his office was. Walking on shaky legs to the information desk, she tried to smooth back her windblown curls. From the look on the woman’s face, though, she was a mess.
“Can I help you?”
“Dr. Eben Stone’s office,” she got out.
The woman stared at her for a second and then removed a map from a pile in front of her. With a highlighter, she showed Rose the route she would take.
“Thanks.”
“Are you okay? Do I need to find someone to help you?” the woman asked. She pursed her mouth and lifted her eyebrows.
“No,” Rose said, holding up the map. “I can find it.”
Her bag felt heavy and everything seemed too loud and too bright, but she made it to the elevator banks. Somehow, using every bit of mental capacity she had, she found Dr. Stone’s office.
She’d been there a number of times, but mostly they met in the lab. Now, she stared at the door like she didn’t know what to do. Get yourself together.
But she didn’t feel together. The parts she’d spent so long stitching together in some semblance of the person she was now were starting to stretch. The seams were pulled tight, and about to rip open.
She hesitated, because something about this moment felt big. With one last breath to squelch her nerves, she opened the door and walked into the small waiting room. The receptionist glanced up with an automatic smile, but it disappeared when she saw Rose.
“Hi,” she said nervously. “Is Dr. Stone available?” she asked. “I’m Rose Carrado.”
She typed into her computer, eyes narrowing. “You don’t have an appointment.”
“If you tell him who’s here, he’ll see me.”
From the receptionist’s tight expression, she didn’t believe her, but she still dialed the phone. Turning away, Rose stared at a framed photograph on the wall. It was one that, like the poster in the lab, she’d stared at a hundred times.
What am I doing? What did she want out of this?
“Rose?” Dr. Stone’s voice was confused.
She turned and saw him studying her.
“What happened?”
“Can we talk in your office?” she asked, aware that they weren’t alone and she was about to tell a story that no one in Boston had believed the first time she’d told it.
He gestured to the open door, and she went inside. Before now, it had never struck her how small the office was, or how it held no clues to Dr. Stone the person. There were no pictures of friends or family. The shelves held medical journals, and he had two computers on his desk. That was it.
He sat in one of the two chairs facing his desk and waited for her.
“What happened to you?” he asked in a voice much kinder than the one he usually used.
She took a deep breath to steady herself before she started. As she spoke, he leaned back in his chair. He brought his hand to his forehead, rubbing across it, but she kept going.
Even when he leaned forward in his chair, dropped his head into his hands, she persisted.
“There might be something left on me, where the creature touched me and put its mouth on me,” she said. He started to shake his head from side to side, and she barely got out, “as proof.”
“Rose,” his voice wasn’t much above a whisper, and when he lifted his eyes to meet hers, he was frowning deeply. “I’m not—” He shook his head and started again. “If you were attacked, I’ll bring you to the emergency room and examine you there.”
He stood and held out his hand. She stared at it, confused. “What—no. Just swab my neck or something.”
“From looking at you, your clothes, your hair. Something happened. Your voice is shaking, your hands are trembling, you’re rubbing your head like you’re getting a headache.”
Was she? Rose clasped her hands in her lap.
“All signs of an adrenaline crash. But Rose…” He stared at her, holding her gaze as he said, “There’s no way you saw a demon.”
Thank God she was sitting. “I thought you believed me.” She moved her hands to the arms of the ch
air, gripping it. “You said just this morning, it was you and me against the world!” Her voice lifted, and she struggled to get it back under control. “I don’t understand.”
“I believe you were attacked,” he said, sitting back down. “And that attack triggered the condition and symptoms you’ve displayed for years. I also believe something happened today.” He edged closer. “The brain is an amazing organ. It compartmentalizes trauma, setting it aside to deal with later as it focuses on survival. Today, you flashed back. Whatever happened triggered that memory, digging it up from where you had it buried, and you saw the same scary thing you saw as a child.”
She nodded, aware with part of her brain how crazed she must look, but she had to keep going. She had to try. “Right! I saw the same thing! Something not human.”
“No, Rose.” If he spoke to her like he usually did, this would be harder, but his voice was soft and kind. “When you were tortured as a child, your brain replaced the image of whoever did that to you with a demon. Or creature.”
This was crazy. Dr. Stone wasn’t making any sense.
“I’m not saying this to hurt you,” he continued. “What I believe is that a gene for some heretofore unidentified condition turned on when you suffered your attack. I believe that when you left here today, something happened. But I’ve never believed you were attacked by a demon. Or something inhuman.” His gaze stayed trained on her, imparting just how serious he was.
He didn’t believe her.
“We are just two people who happen to not be believable,” she whispered. “If my symptoms were found in someone else, someone who didn’t claim to be attacked by a…” She couldn’t say the word demon.
He picked up where she left off, “Then I have no doubt that my research would have been published, and I’d never have faced the ostracism of the medical community.”
Her head hurt and tension radiated down her neck. With it, the constant pain that had been held at a distance crashed through her veins.
Worse though, was the soul sickness that came from a full understanding that Dr. Stone had lied to her for years. Even if he hadn’t said outright that he’d never believed her, he’d lied by omission.
“All this time you let me think you believed me.” A horrifying thought occurred to her. What if nobody had believed her. Her mom—before she’d died—acted as though she believed her. But what if she hadn’t? For the life of her, Rose couldn’t remember her mother ever saying the words. She was going to be sick.
Standing, she said, “I need to go.”
“You need to let me make sure you’re okay,” he said.
“I’m not,” she replied, and he opened his mouth to reply. She cut him off before he could say anything else. “Physically, I’m fine. You saw me this morning. It couldn’t cut me or bite me.”
“Bite you?” His eyes narrowed again.
“Or whatever I think happened,” she replied bitterly. She walked to the door, grabbing her camera bag on the way there. She didn’t even remember setting it on the floor. Maybe he was right and she was just a head case.
“I can’t force you, but I think you should reconsider,” he said, but she opened the door anyway.
“Thanks for your concern,” she said as her stomach roiled. It was a warning that the pain was about to get much worse. She didn’t want to be stuck on a bus when it hit. “I’ll be fine.”
Dr. Stone sighed but held the door open for her. The back of her neck prickled as she passed by the receptionist and out the door, like they were both watching her.
Making her way to the elevator, she raked her fingers through her curls and found pieces of grass and leaves stuck in it. No wonder people thought she was crazy. She let the leaf fall from her fingers before she pushed the button on the elevator.
God. She was a mess. Her hands were dirty. There was mud on the knees of her jeans. One pant leg had been torn from knee to ankle. The material gaped around her leg, turned into fringe by the thing’s teeth.
There was a ding, and the doors opened. Her head pounded at the sound and a wave of heat, followed by a chill, raced down her back. She needed to get home as fast as she could.
Alone in the small space, she held onto the rails and shut her eyes, willing herself not to throw up and not to curl into a ball.
It jerked to a stop and she opened her eyes in time to see the doors open. She wasn’t expecting the heat that filled her, or the way it would chase away her pain so quickly she swayed.
Two men stood framed between the open doors and stared at her.
She recognized one of them. She’d seen him this morning. Dark eyes. Serious face. Short hair. He touched his chest as he stared at her but then seemed to recover himself.
Did he feel it, too? Was such a thing possible?
He stepped into the elevator, his shoulders blocking her view to see if the other man followed him.
His gaze traveled from her hair to her feet, and he took in a breath. The change that overtook him was instantaneous. His nostrils flared, and his black pupils swallowed up the dark brown. “Who are you?”
“Rose,” she answered, like her name was drawn from her. Why are you talking to him? Nothing about him seemed friendly. Deep frown lines appeared next to his mouth, like he was often displeased.
But his hand was still on his chest, which meant he felt what she did. It had to mean that, right?
The confidence she’d worked so hard to cultivate was gone though. Today had shaken her foundation as much as being attacked the first time, and then later, losing her mother, had.
“You smell like a crawler,” he said, and she held on tighter to the rail.
A crawler. Soft skin. Sharp teeth. Sharp nails. Pain. Burning. Pain.
“She’s panicking, Horus. Back off.” The man was pushed out of the way and another man approached her. Palms out as if proving he was no threat, he moved toward her. “You’re all right. We’re not going to hurt you.”
The warmth in her chest flared, and she touched it. In front of her, the man suddenly winced and touched his own chest.
Just like Horus.
“My name is Seti. This is my brother Horus.” He had thick dark brows that only made his eyes look brighter, and longer hair that fell across his forehead. He smiled as if he was trying to set her at ease, but something was off. How did they know about the creature?
Pain. Burning. Pain.
You’re not going to die.
The world was closing in on her, and she edged toward the row of buttons at the front of the box.
“She’s human,” Horus observed, and panic threatened to overwhelm her. Human? Shit. This was bad. She smacked the buttons, desperate for any floor that would open those doors immediately, but Seti stopped her before she could connect.
“We’re not going to hurt you,” he said again, but Rose could barely hear him. She lashed out mindlessly. The only thing she could think about was getting out.
“Calm.” Horus held his palms out the way Seti had earlier. “You’re safe with us.”
Safe.
Arms tightened around hers, and she realized Seti held her against his chest. He didn’t squeeze her, or hurt her, but caged her in, keeping her from hitting him.
Part of her thought she should apologize, but the other part, the part that grew up in Boston and had just kicked the head off of some Creature from the Black Lagoon, wouldn’t.
“Okay,” she said, forcing her muscles to relax. Seti loosened his hold, and she let her weight drop. Surprised, he let her go and she dove at the buttons. Somehow, perhaps by divine intervention, she connected.
Placing her back to the panel of buttons, she faced the brothers. “Don’t stop me from leaving.”
“We could easily overpower you,” Horus observed, and Seti cast him a narrow-eyed glare.
“You’re not helping.”
The elevator dinged, and the doors slid open. They were right. Both of them were taller, broad with muscles that their coats couldn’t hide. They could o
verpower her.
But they didn’t.
Horus wanted to, she suspected. He rolled back and forth on his heels like he was ready to erupt off a starting block, but he remained in place.
Seti let his hands fall to his sides and nodded once. “Goodbye, Rose.”
She didn’t answer but took a step to the side and then off the elevator. “Don’t follow me,” she said. “Or I’ll scream.”
Voices filtered toward her, background noise that would mask anything they said to each other.
Unless she screamed.
Screaming would get attention.
Leaning forward, Seti hit one of the buttons. She stood there to be sure the doors closed, and they stayed true to their word.
The doors shut, and Rose took a stumbling step backward. Then another until the rest of the hospital came into her peripheral vision.
Run.
She had to get out of here. Find a safe place and hunker down.
The poison began to seep back into her system, bringing with it the familiar pain. Turning, she hurried to the exit. Just as she hit the doors, the pain returned full-force, nearly bowling her over.
There was the bus that would bring her home. One foot in front of the other. The only thing she could control right now was her forward momentum, but she had no illusions.
Nowhere was safe.
6
Seti
“Why did you let her go?” Horus asked. “You could have stopped her at any time.”
“So could you,” Seti retorted. “Why didn’t you stop her?”
“I—” Horus let his folded arms drop to his sides. “I don’t know. I didn’t want to frighten her more. She was a rabbit in a trap, unable to calm to see her means of escape.” But then he shook his head. “Or maybe not. She was able to escape you.”
Seti could still feel the girl’s body against his. She’d been lithe and strong but had curves that fit perfectly into the cradle of his body. Shifting uncomfortably, he shrugged. “Yes.”
He’d known, however, as soon as her body had gone slack what she was going to do. Like Horus, he knew there was really nothing he could say in that moment that would show her they didn’t want to hurt her.
Rose Page 3