by Tia Louise
Aunt Penny’s at the table, and I pause, waiting to see if she’ll make an excuse to leave the room when she sees me. She doesn’t. A newspaper is spread beside her, and she’s reading as she sips her coffee.
“Good morning!” I say, pulling out my chair and reaching for the white bowl of fluffy yellow eggs.
She blinks up at me and smiles. “Hello, dear. I heard you go out last night.”
Taking a large bite of savory bacon, I nod. “I went bowling with a girl from the gym.”
“Bowling!” Aunt Penny straightens, a smile teasing at the edges of her mouth. “We’ll just keep that between us. Was it fun?”
“It was,” I say, considering everything that happened. “I can’t remember the last time I bowled, but I seem to be a natural at it.”
“Of course you are,” she sips her coffee. “You’ve always been athletically gifted.”
I can’t help a little frown. “I’ve never participated in sports. How can you know that?”
“It’s in your genes.”
Her attention returns to the paper, and I reach for the carafe to pour myself a cup of coffee. When I got home last night, that presence was back. My insides were jumpy and unsettled, the same as last night. It wasn’t as strong, but it lingered in the yard.
“Did you have a visitor last night, Pen?” I lift the cup and take a small sip of the rich, dark blend.
“Hmm?” She tears her eyes away from the news to look at me.
“Last night? Did someone come to visit?”
“No…” Her brow lines, and I decide I must be losing it.
“Sorry. When I got home, it felt like someone had been here. Strange, like a presence I didn’t recognize.”
A shadow flickers across her face, and she hops out of her chair, going to the window. “I hate it when Dylan’s gone so long.”
I disagree with that sentiment, but I let it go. Penny’s far more attached to the notion of alpha-protector than I am, probably because she’s getting older. Bluish-purple jam is in a little pot to my left, and I spread it across a piece of toast.
The presence had troubled me when I got home, but before I went to bed, I looked out the window in case it was back. As I stood there, the most incredible sense of safety flooded my body. It was warm and secure, and I’d slept like a baby all night.
Tossing my napkin on the table, I quickly gulp the last of my coffee. “I’m going out for a hike.”
“Oh, be careful, Mercy.” Her eyes are still full of worry, but I’m happy remembering the warm sensation from last night.
“Don’t you worry about me.” I kiss her cheek. “I’m safe in our woods, and I’ll be back in time for dinner.”
She’s wringing her hands as I skip out the front door, headed across the lawn in the direction of the trees.
Koa
Sunlight blazes through my windows, forcing my eyes open. The air is crisp this morning, but I hear happy noises of breakfast preparation, doors opening and closing. The baby isn’t crying.
I’d left my post outside Mercy’s house as the first rays of dawn lifted the horizon and came straight to my apartment and crashed. Nothing unusual happened the rest of the night, and I spent the darkest hours intermittently dozing. I planned to head back out into those woods today and do more investigation.
It’s possible I was mistaken in what type of creature I sensed. It’s definitely not a shifter, but I’m out of practice when it comes to identifying rogue supernatural beings. The wave of unconsciousness it sent at me could be excused as self-defense, but I’m convinced it has bad intentions sneaking around Mercy’s window.
Thankfully, Andy gave me my partial check yesterday. I’ll sleep another hour then track down some place to get breakfast before heading into the woods. I’m just rolling over when a WHAM! hits my door with such force, I’m on my feet at shifter speed.
Moving quickly around the room, I grab my jeans and step into them, jerking them roughly over my hips.
WHAM! It happens again, and anger is building in my chest. If someone or some thing has followed me home looking for a fight, it’s about to be sorry. Reaching forward, I jerk open the door just as a ladies shoe flies past my head.
“Watch it!” I shout, dodging to the side. I barely avoid catching a slipper in the face.
A creaky voice barks up to me from below. “You up, Kona?”
Groaning, I rub a hand over my eyes. I’ve given up trying to correct my elderly landlady on saying my name right.
I look down to see her standing at the base of the stairs dressed in a compact green suit that makes her look like a Lego person. She has a pillbox hat on top of her puffy white bouffant hairdo and a brown ladies’ boot is in her hand. I can only assume she was about to throw it at my door.
“Do you need something from me?” I say, still half inside my apartment.
“I need you to come down here.” Her voice is a stern order.
With a deep exhale, I leave my apartment and jog down the stairs. Her grey eyebrows are pulled together tight as always, but when I stop in front of her, she relaxes a bit with her smile. She reaches a wrinkled hand out and pats my bare stomach, pinching my skin.
“To be sixty years younger,” she murmurs, and I don’t miss the twinkle in her eye.
“You said you needed something.”
She snaps out of whatever naughty old lady thoughts she’s having and the frown is back. “I need you to take me to church. It’s Sunday!”
“Doris, I have plans for today.”
“Your plans can wait,” she turns and makes her slow progress back toward the house. “It’s a condition of renting the room. You have to escort me to church on Sundays.”
I catch up with her in a few strides and put a large hand on her shoulder. “Hang on a second and look at me.”
She pauses and lets her old eyes move slowly up my body. “I see you.” She nods. “You look good.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t know what kind of church you attend, but I’m guessing I have to wear something better than this to go.”
She nods and resumes moving at her slow pace, using her cane to keep her balance. “Come on.”
I watch her go through the silver screen door before hustling up to catch it and follow her inside. It’s the first time I’ve been in Doris’s small house, but it’s exactly as I would’ve expected—ancient.
The kitchen is a tiny square. Wooden cabinets and counter tops are painted spring green, and the floor is a network of tiny white tiles with green ones here and there in a design. Built-in shelves hold large dinner plates and platters, and her refrigerator and stove look like they’re left over from the 1950s.
I only have a second to note her small, metal table and four chairs. She’s through the house calling me to come back wherever she is. The living room is next, and a large recliner with a pink crocheted blanket thrown over the top is positioned in front of the television. A TV table is beside it holding a remote and what looks like Doris’s empty breakfast plate.
“Where are you?” I call, scanning the dark-wood paneled room.
A picture of Jim in a cap and gown is in a frame on an end table under a lamp.
“Back here,” she calls. “I’ve got something you can wear.”
Aw, shit. After all this, I can only imagine the clothes I’m about to encounter. At least I’m confident whatever lime-green polyester leisure suit she’s got waiting for me won’t fit. Making my way down the short, dark hall, she’s in the first room to the right.
I step inside and freeze. “What the…” The words die on my lips.
She’s standing beside a charcoal suit that looks like an Armani. A white button-down and silver tie are on the single bed that has a patchwork quilt for a coverlet.
“You’re going to look mighty fine escorting me to church in this.” She grins, smoothing her fingers down the suit.
“Where did you get it?” I can’t believe my little old landlady just happened to have a suit exactly my size waiting arou
nd for me to show up and wear.
“Midge Henderson had a garage sale.” She waves her hand and starts for the front. “Services start in half an hour, so move your butt.”
I take the hanger off the closet door and scoop up the shirt. Only two things are missing. “I don’t have shoes.”
She’s back with a plastic bag. “You have pretty regular-sized feet for how… big you are everywhere else.”
I’m going to let that pass. “Okay,” is all I say.
“See if any of these will work. Mr. White had a weakness for shoes. Most of them are Italian.”
“I’ll take care of them.”
She waves a hand as I leave. “Wear them out. Shoes are no use to you when you’re dead.”
They sure come in handy when you’re living, I can’t help thinking. Back in my apartment, I dump everything on the bed. Sleek black loafers in exactly my size spill out along with canvas slip-ons and sneakers I know an old man would never wear. I squint an eye back toward the house and wonder what else Doris White has up her sleeve.
The church is a one-room wooden building that looks as old as Doris. She holds my arm as we slowly climb the concrete steps leading up to the white structure. We’re just entering as organ music blasts triumphantly. I feel her giving me a scowl and look down.
“You made us late,” she gripes.
“It wasn’t on my schedule for today.”
“As if you have a Sunday schedule.” She smiles to an elderly man in a suit handing out folded-paper programs.
“Good morning, Doris,” he says smiling at her. When his eyes move to me, the smile dissolves.
I don’t smile back. The last thing I need is to give these guys any ideas about my interest in membership.
“You must be…” he waits, and Doris hastily fills in the blanks.
“My nephew Kona. He’s visiting from the islands.”
It’s an internal struggle, but I keep my expression neutral. What the hell?
“The islands?” The old man frowns.
“We’d better get inside,” she says, giving my arm a tug.
“Nice to meet you,” I mutter, escorting her through the narrow door and down a skinny aisle.
She takes the lead, going straight to what I can only assume is her designated spot. I don’t make eye contact with any of the parishioners, but I do notice Jim sitting next to Sally at the end of our pew. She’s in a burgundy dress with little white flowers on it. Jim’s in a suit with his light-brown hair combed back, and I have to give him a second glance. He actually cleans up well. They’re both smiling way too much to be in church this morning.
A tug on my arm reminds me to sit down. My ass hits the pew just as everybody’s on their feet again, hymnals in hand. I don’t know any of the songs, but I hold the hardcover red book and do my best to follow along.
Finally, we seem to be finished sitting and standing, and an older fellow in a long, black robe with a deep purple sash ascends to elevated pulpit.
“Brothers and sisters,” he begins in an affected tone. “We’re entering that time of year when the conflict between good and evil grows more distinct in our midst.
“Ephesians teaches us our struggle is not against flesh and blood, but against unseen enemies in the spiritual world…”
It’s difficult for me to sit through these types of sermons, as there’s so much more these well-meaning people don’t know. Still, the direction of this guy’s message sends my mind down the path of what I can do to track down the unseen enemy I encountered two nights ago.
I’m still thinking I encountered a powerful spirit from the underworld, only what would something like that be doing here? And what does it want with Mercy?
As much as she’s asked me to leave her alone, I’m afraid I might have to go against her wishes and tell her what I experienced. I don’t have to tarnish her pristine image to let her know her life might be in danger. I just wonder why…
I’m considering my words when everyone is on their feet again. I stand quickly, glancing around to see hymnals are in hands. Reaching down for the red book, I feel a sharp elbow in my kidney. Doris holds one up for us to share. I nod and look down at the words. I don’t know any of them, but I do my best to follow.
The cause of temperance is Thine own;
Our plans and efforts bless;
We trust, O Lord, in Thee alone
To crown them with success.
Books closed, the minister raises both hands over the congregation and recites a blessing. He’s done, and the entire room breaks as everyone makes their way to the door. I hang back unsure what the hell Doris expects me to do now.
“Jim,” she fusses at her actual nephew. “I know you’re bringing this young lady to my house for lunch today.”
“Oh yeah, Aunt D. This is Sally.” He motions to the girl, whose cheeks pink attractively. “Sally, this is my aunt Doris.”
“Nice to meet you,” Sally’s voice is timid as usual.
“I guess you know Kona,” Doris says.
Sally blinks quickly up to me and does a little nod before tucking her chin and stepping behind Jim. I return her greeting.
“He’ll be joining us, too,” the old woman finishes.
“Hey—”
“Don’t tell me,” she cuts those eagle eyes back on me. “Your busy Sunday schedule doesn’t leave time for food.”
I don’t even try to argue. Stepping to the side, I wait for her to take my arm again and lead her out the small building to where a number of townspeople are loitering on the front lawn. It’s a short walk from here back to her house. I’m ready to get moving when a tall, slim guy about my height cuts us off.
He’s wearing a long black coat with a broad fur collar. His skin is fair, and his pale blonde hair is styled back from his face in a swoosh.
“Why, Doris, who is your guest today?” This guy clearly has money. His hands are long and smooth. I’m willing to bet he’s never worked a day in his life.
My landlady stiffens as he steps closer. “Hello, Hayden.” Her voice is curt. “Interesting you decided to grace us with your presence this morning.”
He fake-laughs, waving that long smooth hand. I notice his nails are manicured. “You know I do my best to attend regularly.”
“When you’re regularly up to something,” she quips. Mentally, I give Aunt D a high-five, but I’m distracted.
A flash of menace catches me off-guard, and I step away from her, sweeping the property with my eyes. It was the thing from the woods, and it appeared and disappeared so quickly, I have no idea where it went. For a moment, I consider it’s hiding in plain sight, cloaking itself somehow.
The other churchgoers slowly disperse, heading to their cars or into the surrounding neighborhoods. Nothing is suspicious.
“You always make me laugh, Doris.” Returning to the matter at hand, I notice Steampunk is studying me in a way I don’t particularly like. “Bob said you’re from one of the islands?”
“Kona’s my adopted sister’s kid,” Doris says, pulling my arm. “We’re late for lunch.”
“Hayden Cross,” the guy extends his hand toward me.
I’m about to reach out and shake, but Doris pushes between us preventing contact. “We have to get there before Jim and Sally.”
Lowering my hand, I nod to the strange fellow. “Nice to meet you.”
He stands perfectly still, watching as we make our way down the sidewalk, and I can’t resist glaring right back.
“What’s up with that guy?” I mutter.
“Local busybody. Don’t you worry about him.”
“I’m not worried.”
The old lady chuckles and pats my bicep. “Yep, I like having you on the place, Kona.”
Lunch is pretty basic. Jim and Sally arrive with a bucket of KFC and a few sides. I do my best to appear patient, but I’m anxious to get out in the woods and see what I can find in the daylight. My night vision is excellent, but sometimes things look different during the day.
The girls cheeks flame, and she fixes her gaze on her plate. She only has one small chicken wing, which she hasn’t touched.
“Mercy!” Doris snaps. “Mercy Quinlan? What was she doing bowling?”
“You should’ve seen her, Aunt D, Mercy’s like a scratch bowler or something. She kicked our butts.” Jim talks between bites of chicken, and his chin is shiny with grease.
“Her sister must be out of town again.” The old woman speaks under her breath. She stabs at her mashed potatoes and gravy seeming lost in thought.
She has my full attention on this subject. “I was impressed,” I say, hoping they’ll say more.
No such luck. Sally touches Jim’s arm, and he picks up a paper napkin to wipe his face. “Sorry, bro, I gotta get Sally back to her house. I told her mom we’d have lunch with them after mass.”
“What!” Doris snaps at him.
“Yeah, they’re members over at St. Michaels.” He’s on his feet, helping Sally up. “I’m meeting them for the first time.”
“Must be serious,” Doris mutters, pushing out of her chair and holding her cheek up for him to kiss.
“I’ll check on you later,” he says before heading to the door.
I take my chance to escape with them. Picking up my plate, I carry it to the sink.
“Oh, thanks for cleaning up, Kona!” The old lady lifts her cane and slowly makes her way to the living room leaving me facing a table of dirty dishes.
A quick scan tells me there’s no dishwasher—besides my two hands. Big fucking surprise. I shake my head and pick up three more plates before crossing the small space to the sink. At this rate, I’ll never get to the woods.
7
Lost and Found
Mercy
Sitting on the rocky cliff overlooking the creek below, I hold my shirt, fanning it back and forth to circulate air around my torso. I’ve been hiking all day in the warm sunshine, and I’m two seconds from losing these clothes and diving into the cool waters below. At this time of year, it’s too cold for the average human, but I find it soothing to my heated blood. I haven’t shifted all day, mostly because I’ve been on the move too much, and I don’t feel like stowing my clothes.