Monstrous (Blood of Cain Book 1)

by J. L. Murray

  “What’s he doing here? Are you okay?” she said in a stage whisper.

  “I can hear you,” said Dekker.

  “Sorry, big, scary, angry man I don’t know.” Roo glared at him.

  “Point taken,” said Dekker.

  “Who was that you were talking to?” I said.

  “Just a customer asking for directions.” Roo smiled widely. “Hungry?”

  Dekker and I sat at a table in the corner and ordered drinks and food.

  “So what’s next?” said Dekker.

  “Next?” I said.

  “Yeah, how do we do this? What’s the plan?”

  “I don’t usually plan. It more just sort of happens.”

  “We could go over what we know so far,” he said helpfully. “See where we want to go next.”

  “I know where I need to go,” I said, and even I felt the heaviness in my voice. Dekker frowned. “I’m just afraid to do it.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  Roo bounced over with two drinks in her hands, smiling at me and ignoring Dekker.

  “A bourbon and coke and one beer,” she said. “Er, Gina, can I talk to you?”

  “You’re supposed to call me Mrs. Fisher now.”

  “Whatever. Mrs. Fisher. A word?”

  “I have to use the bathroom anyway,” said Dekker, sighing. “You ladies talk about me to your heart’s content.”

  When he was gone, Roo slid into his seat and narrowed her eyes. “What the hell is going on?”

  “What do you mean?” I slurped bourbon and coke through a tiny straw.

  “Don’t play dumb,” she said.

  I laughed. “I’m not playing.”

  “The last time I saw you, you were going against your will. With him.”

  “It was a misunderstanding,” I said, suddenly feeling very tired.

  “Is that the guy you were talking about? When we first met? The one you fucked over?”

  “It was complicated. It still is. But yes, I fucked him over, Roo. What the hell do you want from me?”

  “What makes you think you can trust him?” she said, not looking away, her whisper intense, her face too close. I had the sudden urge to smack her. I didn’t know where it came from or why, but I wanted to get away from her. Was it because she was saying something about Dekker I’d worried about myself? I remembered the wraith’s words again. You can’t keep him, Frankie.

  “I don’t want to keep him, okay?” I said, realizing I was yelling as the words came out. I was also standing, having knocked my chair over. The bar went quiet and for a moment all eyes were on me. Then, slowly, the murmur of a busy bar rose cheerfully again.

  “I didn’t say you couldn’t keep him,” said Roo, not without sympathy. “I think you just need to examine his motives. What if he’s one of them?”

  I picked up my chair and sat down, my pride a little bruised. Did Dekker hear any of that?

  “Why’s it so busy in here? It’s not even noon,” I said, noticing. Every keno machine was taken, the bar was nearly filled up with men in logger garb and women with too much makeup.

  Roo shrugged. “Back to normal, I guess. People aren’t so scared.”

  I looked at the people at the bar. I frowned as I saw several men sharing a pitcher of beer glancing over at me. As they turned back to their drinks, a woman with bright pink lipstick that didn’t suit her turned narrowed eyes toward us. I shook my head. They were just curious after my outburst. Or maybe they were waiting for the bartender who didn’t seem to mind shirking her duties to chat with me.

  “Have you seen Shawn?” said Roo, seeming unconcerned about her customers.

  “No. Why?”

  “Did Dekker go up there?” she said. “No one’s seen him or his wife since yesterday.”

  “They’re drug addicts. They’re probably on a bender.”

  “The sheriff found their kids wandering around on the road leading up to their house.”

  “When?” I said.

  Roo smirked. “So you don’t trust him?”

  “When did the sheriff find them, Roo?”

  “I don’t know. Couple hours ago, I guess. I was getting ready to open and he was in here asking around for Shawn.”

  A couple hours ago. So right before he came out to Lucy’s to investigate the murders.

  “Lucy’s dead,” I said.“Her husband, too. The sheriff’s out there right now, checking it out. He let us go.”

  “You and Dekker,” she said in deadpan.

  “Dekker wasn’t even there,” I said, swallowing thickly, remembering Lucy’s hand on my own, thrusting the knife into her own neck.

  I’m to give you a message.

  “Roo, do you think I could get some food? I’m feeling lightheaded.”

  “Sure,” she said, standing and brushing nothing off her apron. “I’ll go check on your dinner. But, Frankie, think about what I said. Why is Dekker sticking around? He took care of his problem, right? Do you think he’s really staying for you?”

  I met her eyes. “What do you know about his problem, Roo?”

  She feigned disinterest, glancing at her customers, a few of whom were raising empty glasses at her.

  “Just what I heard.”

  “And how do you know his name is Dekker? I don’t think I ever told you that.”

  “I guess Shawn mentioned it.”

  “Before he disappeared.”

  “Yes,” she said, irritation creeping in. “Before he disappeared. I’ll go see where they are with your meal.”

  As I watched Roo head back behind the bar, I noticed an old woman peering at me over the Keno machines. A man near the door, leaning against a wall talking to a woman stared at me from under a tilted cowboy hat.

  “This place is weird,” said Dekker. “Some lumberjack was staring at me when I was standing at the urinal.”

  “Yeah, something’s weird,” I said.

  “Weirder than usual?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Does everyone seem sort of...pretending to you?”

  “Pretending what?”

  I drained my drink, ice tinkling against my teeth.

  “Pretending to be human.”

  Rather than laugh at me or tell me I was crazy like I expected him to, Dekker took a long swig from his beer glass, eyes darting around the smoky bar. I could imagine him as a cop, his hard gaze examining crime scenes. He was probably a great detective. That’s what would make him an even better outlaw.

  “They’re all looking at you,” he said, setting his glass down and leaning toward me, his voice just above a whisper.

  “I’m not imagining it.”

  “Frankie, I’m willing to wager that whatever your gut is telling you is almost always the way it is.”

  I leaned back and watched Roo serving glasses of cheap beer. She saw me looking and grinned. A bell chimed and she grabbed two large plastic baskets full of steaming hot food and headed our way.

  I told Dekker, “I saw my dead sister.”

  “Who’s hungry?” chirped Roo, setting the food in front of us. Dekker didn’t look at her, his eyes staring into me. When Roo walked away, muttering about rudeness, he leaned forward again.

  “What did you say?”

  “She’s one of the wraiths, the things that tell me where to go. She took her hood off and it was her. She was all scarred to shit, her skin black and charred. She said she was sorry,” I said.

  “Your dead sister.”

  I nodded. “Yep.”

  “Did she tell you anything else?”

  “Just some other stuff.”

  “What other stuff?”

  “Just stuff.”

  “Do you trust me, Frankie?”

  “What?” I looked down at the chicken and fries, a tiny plastic cup of coleslaw on the side. Suddenly I wasn’t hungry. But I put a fry in my mouth anyway.

  “You heard me,” he said, reaching across the table and taking my hand. I stared at it, looking up to meet his eyes. “Do you even remember wh
at it’s like to trust someone? Do you even know what it is to have someone believe everything you tell them?”

  “No,” I said, surprised at my honesty. For a second I felt my mask slip and I felt completely naked sitting in front of Dekker. But then I caught myself and smiled. “But haven’t you heard, Dekker? I’m kind of a scam artist. I stole this guy’s car once.”

  “Frankie...”

  I pulled my hand away from his.

  “This chicken looks good, doesn’t it?”

  “Frankie, goddammit.”

  I sighed. “She said it was my fault. All of it. Some freaky guy wanted me for some reason and he turned her into a wraith.”

  “What? Who is he?”

  “I don’t know. But she was pretty pissed about it. She said when she saw the thing, the monster, she was sent to a place. Somewhere else. Somewhere without color.”

  “The thing in Mirror Lake,” he said, picking up his chicken and taking a bite. “Shit, that’s good. What is this place?”

  “I don’t know. But she said this thing that took her over, it had mirrors for eyes.”

  “Creepy. So this thing might still be there. At the lake. What does this guy have to do with it? This guy that’s obsessed with you and brought your sister back from the dead? Is he the same guy that brought you back?”

  “It’s possible.”

  “Why you, though? Why does he want you?”

  “No idea. Becky said I wasn’t here because I’m good at killing. She said I was here because of who I am.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know. But there’s the thing Lucy said, too.” I took a breath, looking down at my food, quickly growing cold. “She said if I went to the lake, this would all stop. She said I could stop it.”

  “Frankie, you’re not really thinking of diving into that lake, are you? You’ll end up just like your sister.”

  “I can stop this,” I said.

  “These people,” he said. “They’re not all your dad.”

  It was so spot-on that I felt like I couldn’t breathe for a second. I stared at Dekker and he didn’t look away from me. His face was set into something solemn and serious and as blatantly honest as he always was.

  “Don’t talk about him,” I said.

  “Look, I’ve seen your scrapbook, Frankie. I know what that did to you.”

  “You don’t know shit.”

  “I know it hurts. I know you feel guilty, but it’s not your fault. You were a kid. When I was a kid, I smashed a mailbox. But it wasn’t something that formed who I was.”

  “It wasn’t a mailbox,” I said, seething. “It was my father. The only person who ever loved me.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” he said.

  “Did you do something to Shawn?”

  “What? Why would I do that?”

  “You threatened him here, in front of everyone. And now he’s missing. Did you do something to him?”

  “Who told you that?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “No, I fucking did not kill Shawn,” he said. “We smashed up a car together. He’s a little hillbilly, but he’s okay. Except for the crank habit, he’s not a bad guy.”

  “I had to ask.”

  He raised his eyebrows, taking a drink of his beer. “Did you, now?” He flicked his eyes over to Roo, who was staring our way. She started talking to a man in a trucker hat, laughing too loudly. I picked up my chicken and took a big bite. It felt like ashes in my mouth.

  “Frankie, you have to trust me.” He took my hand again and held it tightly when I tried to pull away.

  “I’m not used to trusting anyone,” I said. “Everyone I trust turns out to be a psycho killer.”

  “Lucky for you, I’m already a psycho killer.” He grinned, letting go of my hand.

  The front door creaked open and a woman stood just inside, panting. I realized it was Julia, from my first night in town. I frowned as I watched her scanning the bar. She was rattled, I could tell that right away. She found me and her eyes widened, a look of relief on her face. She rushed over.

  “Frankie, thank God.”

  “Julia? What’s wrong?”

  “I thought for sure they’d killed you.”

  “Who?” I said. “Oh, this is Dekker.”

  “Hello,” she said curtly, then turned back to me. “Lucy’s, you’re staying there, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s burning,” she said, out of breath as she said it. “All of it. The cabins, the main house, the horse stables. All of it at once. I tried to call the fire department, but they said they wouldn’t come. The sheriff told them not to.”

  I looked at Dekker.

  “Jesus Christ, what kind of fucking town is this?” he said.

  “A broken one, sir,” said Julia. “Frankie, I need you to come with me.”

  “Where?”

  “The Krogers, the twins are home. I’m worried about Kevin.”

  “I thought they were staying with the grandmother for a while.”

  “She’s dead.”

  “Oh, Jesus.”

  “They’re saying heart attack, but that ain’t the way I heard it,” said Julia. “Friend of mine lives up the road. She’s the one who found her. Blood all over the house. And the twins...” She swallowed and adjusted her thick-lensed glasses. “The twins were outside, playing.”

  “Playing? That doesn’t sound so bad,” said Dekker.

  “With her dentures and wig,” said Julia.

  “Okay, that’s alarming,” he said.

  “Will you come, Frankie? We have to get those twins out of that house. We have to save Kev’s life. He’s a good man. Grieving. I’ve known him for years, and he’s one of the good ones.”

  “It’s going to get worse.” I swallowed the food in my mouth and it may as well have been cement. “It’s going to get so much worse.”

  “How do you know that?” said Julia.

  “Because Lucy told me,” I said. “Right before she killed herself.”

  Julia crossed herself.

  “How much worse?” Dekker was eating faster, seeming to be trying to cram as much food in his body as possible. He was probably the smart one. What was coming wasn’t going to be easy.

  “It’s going to get bad,” I said. “Worse than before. Worse than two little girls killing their mother and grandmother.”

  “Well, I guess we’d better go kidnap some twins,” said Dekker.

  chapter twelve

  “

  Didn’t tell your bartender friend where we were going?” said Dekker. He’d thrown some money on the table as we left, Julia in her truck and Dekker and me in the Charger. There was a nasty curtain of smoke in the air.

  “No,” I said. “She’s acting cagey.”

  “Aww.”

  “What?”

  “You don’t want to talk to her because she doesn’t like me,” he said, grinning.

  “That’s not why.”

  “I think it is,” he said. “You like me.”

  “Shut up,” I said. “I just sense she’s not telling me something. She said her brother got killed by whatever’s doing this. But she’s acting weird about all this. She showed up at my cabin, wanted to go everywhere with me.”

  “Wait,” said Dekker. “Doesn’t this...mirror demon take over a loved one’s body?”

  “Yeah. My sister and my mom killed my dad. The Kroger twins killed their mom and now their grandmother. And Lucy killed her own husband.”

  “So Roo’s brother...”

  “Oh,” I said in surprise. I’d never really given it a thought. “Shit.”

  “So, Roo could very well be one of them.”

  “She told me to stay away from you,” I said. “She knew your name. Called you Dekker. I asked how she knew you and she got all...twitchy.”

  “So, these things, they don’t much like me hanging around you.”

  “Or maybe she’s just a concerned friend telling me I’m d
ating a creep.”

  “Dating?” he said.

  “Screwing. Whatever.”

  “You’re a romantic, Frankie Mourning.”

  “I don’t have time for romance, Dekker,” I said, pulling out a pack of smokes and lighting one. “I have a killer to murder.”

  “What’s our endgame here? You’re going to take the twins, then what?”

  “I’ll know when it happens.”

  “That’s not much of a plan.”

  “I’m not much of a planner,” I said. “I told you that.”

  “But you’re still planning on going to the lake, aren’t you? You’re going to do something stupid.”

  “Sounds like me.”

  “I’m going with you.”

  I nearly choked on cigarette smoke.

  “No!” I said. “This is my dumpster fire, Dekker. It has nothing to do with you.”

  “Despite what you might believe,” he said, “I’m not as cold as you are. I’m not going to let you go into this alone.”

  “Let me?”

  “Fine, just let me go with you, Frankie. Please.” There was an edge to his voice. I recognized it, but it had been so long since I’d heard it that it seemed like something heard from very far away. He was worried about me. When was the last time anyone used that tone with me?

  Run, Frankie.

  I took another drag of my cigarette to cover my surprise.

  “Okay, come with me,” I said. “But stay out of my way. If I have to do something crazy, don’t stop me, understand? And don’t try to protect me. I don’t need your protection.”

  “You think I want to protect you?” he said. “You leave me no choice sometimes.”

  We didn’t talk about the fire at Lucy’s. I couldn’t bring it up. But it was on his mind, too, I could tell.

  Why would the sheriff set the crime scene on fire? Especially when he had a perfectly good scapegoat standing right in front of him?

  The Kroger house was lit up, bright lights shining through every window, illuminating the small pond where Alyssa died. Julia was closing the door of her truck, having arrived just ahead of us. She waited for us, and the three of us headed for the house without a word.