Grayce pounded the couch cushion. “Fuck. Stop arguing about it. I don’t care if the asshole is my sperm donor. I don’t want to know. Bastard can die for all I care.”
Nikolas turned to her wearing a warm smile. “Oh, we’re not fighting dear. She’s won this round. Once she’s left the room, her mind is made up. Nothing I can do to change it now.” He rubbed his bald head and continued after Chelsea.
“Was that a fight?” Grayce asked, bewilderment contorting her face.
“Yeah. That was a fight.” Zander pulled Grayce into his lap.
She snuggled against him. “Where are they going?”
He laughed. “To make up.”
* * * *
Monsters came in many different forms. In Stephen’s opinion, Shayde was the scariest monster of them all. To most people, Shayde looked like a normal human being. Stephen knew better. Evil lived in Shayde and it wanted out.
His jet black hair, dark eyes and pointy nose haunted Stephen’s dreams almost every night before his mom sent him away. The way he looked at Stephen made his bones rattle. The few times Shayde spoke to him, Stephen was certain he saw evil spirits dancing around in his dark retinas. The spirits called out to him, like they wanted his soul. Like they wanted to suck him into the blackness.
Stephen’s mom tried to keep them separated. It wasn’t too hard. Shayde only came to visit at night after Stephen had fallen asleep. Some nights, he’d hear them yelling. His mom would say she didn’t know who his father was. Shayde always sounded angry at his mom, always yelled. Called her bad names. If he didn’t like her, why did he always come back? Why did she always let him in? He would never understand grown-ups.
They moved a lot. Stephen hated moving. He’d ask why they were leaving again, and his mom would say she was trying to find the perfect home. He knew it was a lie.
Every place they stayed was worse than the last. Most of them had no lights or heat. They almost always smelled bad, like garbage or old people. She would never tell Shayde they were moving away. He would find them, though. When he did, that’s when he was the scariest. The last time, it took Shayde a couple of weeks to track them down.
That’s the day he tried to kill his mom and the day Stephen found his power and tried to kill Shayde. That’s when his mom sent him away. It was the last time he’d seen her. Didn’t even get to say goodbye. He missed her so much.
* * * *
Grayce sat on the oversized sofa with arms crossed, legs curled under her. Stephen sat motionless at her side, his head resting on her shoulder. He laughed at some ridiculous cartoon about a yellow dog and a boy that wore a silly white hat.
The close contact drove her to the brink of insanity. With great effort, she held it together for the boy’s sake. He needed to be near her, and despite the battle between her brain and body, his needs were much more important than her issues with the male species. After all, it wasn’t his fault he was born with a penis, right?
The shrimp was pretty funny. Grayce enjoyed his sense of humor. She couldn’t shake that feeling that she’d seen him before though. It irritated the hell out of her.
A bushy head of light brown hair, cut and styled at Salon de La Chelsea shone under the bright lights from the television screen.
Grayce huffed. There was nothing that woman couldn’t do.
“I want it cut like Z’s.” He’d demanded earlier in the day. Chelsea, of course, obliged.
Squeezing her eyes shut and praying he wouldn’t freak, Grayce uncrossed her arms and ruffled his hair before wrapping an arm around his shoulder. “I like your new haircut.”
“Do I look like Z?” Staring straight ahead, he snuggled closer. Grayce tensed, but didn’t pull away. I can do this. I can do this. He’s a boy, he can’t hurt me.
“Yeah, you look like Z. In fact, I think you look better than that big lug.”
His tiny shoulders shook with a giggle.
“You look like my mom,” Stephen whispered.
“I do?”
“Yeah, except her hair is yellow.” He looked up, studied her and pressed a sticky finger to the tip of her nose. The lingering scent of hot fudge sauce filled her nostrils. She fought the urge to turn away.
“Your noses are the same. Your eyes are the same too.”
Grayce’s heart skipped a beat. No. Impossible. She examined the boy’s features. Oh my fucking hell. Same big hazel eyes. Same button nose. Same high cheekbones.
“Tell me about your mom, Stephen.” Her shaky voice caught in her throat.
“My mom was always scared. She pretended not to be. We played under a blanket with the flashlight every night.”
Grayce gasped. No, no, no.
Stephen continued staring at the television. “She used to forget about me at school. But it’s okay. The principal was nice and let me stay at her house a lot. The other kids hated the principal. But I liked her. She made the best chocolate chip cookies. Well, except for Chelsea’s.”
“Stephen, what’s your mom’s name?” Heart in her throat, she braced for the answer she didn’t want to hear.
He looked around the room as if checking for spies. “Her name is Dawn.” A click of the remote and the television went black. Turning toward Grayce, he propped himself on his knees. “Can I tell you a secret?”
Gulping, Grayce nodded her head.
“She used to have a lot of names. I’m the only one who knows her real name. She told everyone else her name was Monica or Melissa or some other stupid ones I can’t remember. I got in trouble once because I almost told one of her boyfriends her real name.”
Her lungs deflated, then stuck. A tear sprung free in spite of her efforts to hold it back. She scrunched her face. Tried to stop the dam that was about to burst.
Oh fuck it.
She cupped Stephen’s cheeks, gazed into his big, beautiful, innocent eyes and let her tears fall.
“Why are you crying?” His worried expression opened a new fissure in her heart. How did she not see this before? “Did I make you sad?” he asked.
“Where is your mom now?”
“I don’t know. But I’m going to find her as soon as I’m bigger.” Mimicking Grayce, he cupped her cheeks and squeezed. “Why are you crying?”
Did she tell him? She hadn’t given her mother a second thought for years. Wrote her off the day she refused to help Grayce hide. The bitch had handed her over to Tyr once. She’d do it again. Was she angry? No.
Downright pissed.
Did she miss her mom? The idea of a mother, sure. Dawn? No.
Could she blame her? She wanted to. But the reality was, Dawn was a little off her rocker. A lot off her rocker. Bat shit crazy.
Stephen was better off without her.
Grayce decided it best not to say anything to Stephen. Not until she talked to the others anyway.
“I’m crying because you made me think about my mom, too.” Wow, a brother. A fucking baby brother. A beautiful, bratty, perfect brother.
Stephen laughed and squished her cheeks, rolling them between his palms. “You look funny.” Pushing them in and out, he mocked Grayce with a girlie voice. “Hi.” Squish, squish. “I’m Grayce.” Squish. “I’m sad.”
He pulled her cheeks down to form a frown and laughed. He wrapped his arms around his stomach and rolled back on the couch in hysterics.
Grayce grabbed a yellow throw pillow and hit him over the head. “I don’t sound like that.”
She hit him again. Stephen grabbed a bigger blue pillow and hit her back. For the first time in her life, she had a pillow fight. And for the first time in many years, Grayce was having fun.
* * * *
Passerby’s either stopped dead in their tracks or did a double take before they scurried away from the waiting room. The funk of agitated testosterone hung thick in the air and made for one hell of a do not disturb sign. Zander paced with a nervous twitch while Marcus did his best to stay out of the way.
“I need coffee.” Marcus sulked. “You want anything?”<
br />
Zander shook his arms, cracked his neck and continued to forge a zig-zag pattern across the checkered tiles. “Fucking withdrawals.”
Marcus clapped his shoulder. “Hang tight. This will be over soon. Come with me. It’ll take your mind off the misery.”
Like hell. He felt as if he’d been dipped in a barrel of honey then rolled through a field of fire ants. A jolly stroll through the hospital would do little to ease that torment. It would however, lessen the chance that he’d tear the fucking walls down while waiting for the Comptons to arrive.
As they waited for the elevator, several men turned in a quick, comical fashion and headed the opposite direction the moment they caught sight of him and his buddy. Opportunity for Zander and Marcus to appear in public together didn’t present itself often, which by the looks on passing faces, was a good thing. Zander did his best to smile and appear friendly.
Marcus on the other hand, liked to play. On not so rare occasion, he’d flash his trademark evil eye to scare the shit out of people, just for fun. His high arched eyebrows were intimidating enough, but when cocked just right, not even Jason or Freddie Kruger would mess with him. Marcus prided himself the prankster and loved to make people squirm.
The down arrow above the doors flashed green. After the familiar yet annoying ding, they glided open. A tall woman with platinum blonde hair and porcelain glowing skin stepped off and entered the foyer, oblivious to the two giants standing less than three feet in front of her. With her nose planted in a book, she turned and glided down the hallway.
Zander waited for a crude remark from Marcus or detailed description of what he’d do to the woman if he ever got her alone. When it didn’t come, he turned to find his friend slumped against the wall and holding his chest.
“What the hell happened to you?” He laughed. “See a smoking hot woman, you faint now?”
Marcus stared down the corridor with a dumb ass smile on his face.
“Oh shit.” Zander knew that look. It was pathetic as fuck.
It was official. Marcus was off the market. The woman who’d just floated off the elevator, swept him off his feet and flat-out ignored him, was Marcus’ soul mate. He could hear the collective shattering of hearts from women across the globe. This was a day Zander would mark on his calendar.
When it came to women, he and Marcus were polar opposites. Marcus loved women and lived for the hunt. He chewed ‘em up, spit ‘em out, moved on to the next one. As a man who broke hearts on a daily basis with playful enthusiasm, he never cared too much about finding his significant other. He used to tell Zander. “It’ll happen when it happens. For now, I’m enjoying the ride.” And he did.
Marcus shook his head and pushed himself from the wall. “I have to follow her.”
Zander grabbed his arm and held him still. “It knocks you on your ass, doesn’t it?” He embraced his friend and offered a congratulations before breaking the bad news. “You can’t follow her. Not now. But hey, she was wearing a doctor’s coat. Nikolas will know who she is.”
Marcus growled. “I know. We’re here for Grayce today.” He punched his fist into his palm. “Let’s do this thing and do it fast. I have a woman to claim.”
Nikolas led Chelsea around the corner, arm in arm. When he caught sight of Chelsea’s grim expression, a new knot formed in his gut. “Zander. I want to try something.”
He glanced at Nikolas who nodded in approval.
“Okay Chelsea, what is it?” he asked, rubbing his arms brisk and hard. God he needed to get home.
“When we get close enough to Houghton, I’m going to open my mind to you. You’ll see and feel what I do as it happens. It will overwhelm you at first. I’ll filter people and shut them out as quick as I can. When we find him, I’ll zero in.” She grabbed his hands and squeezed. “Two minds are better than one. You may be able to pick up on something that I can’t.”
“I’m game. I’ll try anything that’ll get us closer to stopping that maniac.”
“Good.” She turned to Marcus. “Stay close to him in case it’s too much.” She hooked her arm back through Nikolas’ and led the way.
The trip through the corridors of Mercy Mountain Medical Center proved difficult. The entire hospital staff respected and adored Nikolas and his wife. Friendly “hellos” and “good afternoons” came from every direction. A three minute walk turned into ten, but they made their way to the wing one floor below Houghton’s room.
Chelsea held Zander’s hand and blinked up with compassionate eyes. “Are you okay?”
He nodded. Aside from wanting to peel his own skin off, he was just peachy.
“Here goes.”
An onslaught of thoughts and emotions flooded his brain and threw him off balance. Like a pussy, he grabbed Marcus to steady himself. Most impressions came at him like unclear photographs, but disappeared before he could process what he’d seen. Chelsea filtered through the insignificant thoughts like she was shuffling a deck of cards. Everything was a blur. Zander was forced to close his eyes. Marcus continued to hold him steady.
A piercing shiver shot up his spine and landed at the base of his skull. Everything froze.
For a moment, Zander floated on a cloud, surrounded by hazy, blurred images. He’d never used a drug in his life, but he imagined this was what it’d feel like.
“I think we found him,” Chelsea whispered. “He’s too drugged. We won’t be able to get anything.”
“Keep trying,” Zander pleaded.
“Oh.” Chelsea’s voice trembled. “There’s somebody with him.”
As if he were a television, the channel changed and horrifying images invaded his psyche. Blackness, pain and blood inundated his thoughts. Followed by flashes of Grayce. His knees would’ve hit the floor if it weren’t for Marcus.
As fast as they had come, the thoughts were gone. “I’m sorry. I can’t do it. Oh God. What was that?” The tremor in her voice reflected the panic shredding his insides.
Fear bogged his brain, his skin prickled with dread. A horrifying black figure shimmied in his thoughts then disappeared.
“Zander. I’m so sorry you had to see that. It’s all my fault.” She clung to Nikolas.
A deadly, primal rage brewed in his chest, spread through his limbs. His arms and legs trembled with eruptive fury. “Nikolas. Get Chelsea home. Now.”
“What the fuck happened?” Marcus released his grip on Zander.
“He’s here,” Chelsea sobbed.
“Z, don’t do anything stu—” A bone chilling snarl cut Nikolas’ sentence short.
“Did you just fucking growl?” Marcus snapped.
In a flash, Zander was nose to nose with Marcus. “You didn’t see what he did to her.” His chest tightened and he couldn’t say another word. In that moment, Zander was no longer a civilized man. He was a brutal, barbarian warrior prepared for a bloodbath. His friends understood. They made no attempt to stop him. Grayce was in danger and that was unacceptable. Plain and simple. It’s how they were built.
Marcus took a step back and held his hands up in surrender. “Go get him.”
11
It’s inevitable. In everyone’s life at one point or another, they find themselves at a crossroads where their souls are on the line. Decisions must be made that will not only have a profound effect on their future, but could also determine their eternal fate.
Zander faced that crossroads. Instinct told him Tyr must die. Instinct told him Houghton must die. Conscience told him taking a human life was wrong. Society told him murder was wrong.
He’d never given a shit what society thought.
What would Grayce think? He’d have to answer to her alone. Her opinion would be the one that mattered above all others.
His brief look into Tyr’s memories burned horrifying, gut wrenching images into his mind. As those images stood forefront in his brain, he knew the right decision, the one proper course of action would be to strike those bastards from the face of the earth. He’d live with the consequence
s.
From the other end of the hall, he sized up the officers seated outside Houghton’s door. The tall one slouched in his metal chair. One hand rested on his holster, the other scratched at his crotch. His partner, a stalky, balding older man, nodded off behind the pages of his hotrod magazine.
Although Zander was able to move fast enough to avoid detection by the cameras, even these two fuckups would be able to feel something if he rushed past. He needed nothing more than a few moments inside, but couldn’t risk having the guards come in to check on their prisoner.
Fuck it.
Zander flew past, and knocked them each on the head. In the same heartbeat, he was in Houghton’s room.
* * * *
Unease sat like a cement brick in Tyr’s gut. Apprehension was an unacceptable character trait. It darkened his already sinister mood. If all went according to plan, Houghton’s announcement to the media would draw his little dove from hiding.
The story was only broadcast a few short hours ago, but really, he had nothing better to do than wait. He wouldn’t miss another opportunity to get her back. The current toy no longer gave him the buzz he needed and he’d grown extremely dissatisfied. She’d become a zombie right before his eyes. No longer showed fear. He would dispose of the useless bitch by day’s end.
The greasy fat man in the bed mumbled something inaudible in his unconscious state then pulled at his restraints. His face contorted as if haunted by a dream.
A moment later, Tyr felt a prickle in his brain. A probing sensation.
Odd.
Sitting with arms crossed and head held high, he recalled his play sessions with his little dove. What was it about her? He’d never been able to pinpoint it. What he did know was that she made him feel more alive. More powerful. Indestructible.
Memories of Grayce flooded his thoughts and gave birth to an erection. His ability to teleport surfaced after the first time he had his way with her. It took him weeks to understand that she alone was the trigger. The spark that started it all. The charge that kept his battery juiced. And that made him hate her all the more.
A whoosh of air snatched him from his reverie and before he could blink twice, the giant man from the gym was standing in the room. Even more spectacular up close, Tyr thought. Oh my, if only his playroom were ready, he’d drag the beast there right now. His imagination ran wild with possibilities.
Aflame (Apotheosis) Page 17