Marked for Vengeance (Book One: The Alyx Rayer Chronicles)

by Pierce, SJ

  His belongings were strewn about. Every drawer had been emptied and its contents thrown on the floor, every couch cushion overturned, picture off the wall, and potted plant out of its planter. He stumbled sideways as he turned to look into the kitchen. The cabinet doors had all been opened, and the dishes lay in white, broken shards, scattered over the counters and floor. His jaw hung open. “H-holy shit,” he stammered. “Roberta? You here?”

  A rustling diverted his attention to the bedroom. “Roberta!” he yelled as he placed the bottle of whiskey on the kitchen counter. “Is that you?”

  As he awaited an answer, he stood still with his hands clinched into fists, but only more rustling responded. His eyes widened with realization. “I’m not alone,” he said in a hushed voice.

  He frantically surveyed the room for something to use as a weapon and a silver candle holder on the floor caught his eye. He bent forward to pick it up, tilting from the whiskey’s murky embrace, and his hand flew to the floor to catch his fall. After righting himself, he held the candle holder in front of his chest and inched toward the bedroom door jam.

  He paused before going through and pulled his cell phone from his pocket, holding it away from him and blinking as the numbers blurred together. His thumb slowly dialed 9-1- and before he could press the last number, it flew from his hand and into a high arc across the room as though someone had plucked it from his grip.

  With the candle holder held above his head, ready to make a lethal blow, his eyes darted around his empty home. He walked backward in retreat, toward the front door when the holder launched from his hand, crashing into the drywall.

  Benjamin held his hands up between him and whatever else was there, and turned to make a run for it. The door slammed shut as he reached for the knob, and his shirt was pulled from his back, dragging him into the living room as he released a guttural scream.

  To silence his cry, something slashed at his throat, and a warm streak of red sprayed across his white sofa.

  * * *

  Noon slowly approached, and Micah’s condition gradually worsened. Periodic trips to the bathroom to throw up in the toilet filled his morning. Isaac feared his son’s ailment was beyond the help of anything over the counter and resolved to call the doctor later that afternoon. It was nearly impossible to get anyone on the phone around lunch time.

  “You want anythin’?” he asked, his heart breaking as he watched Micah hold onto his stomach as though it would fall apart.

  Micah shook his head.

  “I’m callin’ the doctor after lunch, ok? Sit tight. I’ll be downstairs cleanin’ if you need me.” Isaac hoped that immersing himself in chores would prevent his mind from racing all day, and bring with it the normalcy he wanted his son to perceive.

  After gathering some stray snack wrappers from around his son’s room, Isaac went downstairs to toss them into the trash. He opened the cabinet door under the sink and grunted when he saw the frame he had taken apart of his Dark Angel sitting beside the can. Even though he had destroyed it, he wanted it out of the house and thrown into the dumpster.

  He tossed the wrappers inside the can and slid the bag out, pulling the drawstrings taut. He flung it over his shoulder and snatched the broken painting.

  On his way to the door, he noticed the film of grey dust covering the wooden furniture in the living room. It had been at least three weeks since everything had a fresh dusting. He dumped the bag and the remnants of the painting onto the floor beside the couch. The dust had convinced him to do his heavy cleaning before going to the dumpster.

  While by the door, he checked the deadbolts one more time. Their house today would be a fortress, secured and locked tight. He remembered when he came back from the laundry room yesterday, how careless he had been to leave without locking the door. If he had known then what he knew now, he wouldn’t have allowed such reckless oversights.

  He cared less about the material possessions in their home. The only two things he wanted to preserve were Micah’s life and his own. His fears as he searched his apartment yesterday afternoon were an accumulation from years’ worth of worries of what would happen to Micah if anything were to happen to him, and what would happen to him if anything happened to Micah. He was a precious part of his life, an extension of more than just a mere element of the DNA that he contributed. Micah carried within him a part of Isaac’s soul and constantly reminded him how a part of Rachel lived inside of him, as well. He flawlessly embodied her mannerisms and wit, and Isaac still saw her sometimes in his eyes as he smiled, how the green in them sparkled as hers would do. His whole reason to exist, to stay alive, was packaged together in this one, small person – a colorful mosaic of his past and present.

  He went back to the kitchen, slid open the knife drawer, and pulled out a broad butcher knife from inside to leave on the counter. Despite the fact that they lived in the city, it had never occurred to him to buy a gun or anything else of the sort. But if they made it through the day without anymore strange visitors or unusual occurrences, he would look into buying a firearm first thing in the morning.

  * * *

  Alyx raked her fingers through her newly rolled hair to separate the curls. After showering, she sat on the couch to get ready as she watched Friends re-runs. The only thing she lacked was to slip on her shoes, and she would be on her way to approach Cindra outside of their building. She never grasped how much a friendship was actually worth until today. Her only haven now existed on her friend’s shoulder. It wouldn’t make her safe but would heal a few wounds at least.

  She turned off the TV and headed for the front door when the home phone rang. Her path redirected to the kitchen, and she picked up the phone to see who called. Benjamin? Her large, brown eyes stared at the screen as she contemplated whether or not to answer. Did he want to yell at her some more? Would he plead for her to reconsider? She hit the “End” button to mute the ringer and set it back on the charger. The only person she wanted to speak to was Cindra.

  She slipped on her tennis shoes by the front door, and before she turned the knob to leave she glanced back at the phone. The red voicemail light blinked on the receiver. Her hand dropped from the knob, and she went back for the phone. I guess I better.

  When the message played, Roberta’s frantic, muffled voice wailed in the background. Did she call me on accident?

  The reception became clearer as Roberta put the phone to her ear, speaking in hysterical, broken English. “Mija, its Benjamin. Dios Mio! Oh my God, something happened to my Benjamin. Come over…”

  Alyx held the phone from her ear and stared at the ear piece in terror. Had he hurt himself? Been in a car accident on the way home? What the hell?

  Her shaking fingers dialed the number, and she held her breath until Roberta answered the phone.

  “Alyx!” she cried. “I walked in the door and found him here, lying in the floor. Blood is everywhere. Oh my God, Benjamin!”

  Without a second thought, Alyx flew out the door. “Did you check his pulse Roberta?” she barked as she hurried down the stairs.

  “He’s not alive, Mija. No pulse.”

  The blood drained from her face, and she gripped the railing as her knees buckled. Her mouth opened to speak again, but the words lodged inside her breathless throat. “C-” she forced out. “Call 911, I’m on my way.” She let the phone drop down the stairs so she could hoist herself back up with the railing. Her legs still quaked with each stair step, but she successfully made it down to the bottom thanks to the extra support.

  On the way to his condo, she barely saw the road through the film of tears. If Benjamin was dead, she didn’t know how she would live with herself. Images raced through her mind of him doing the unthinkable to himself, her wounding words that morning cutting him so deep he had no choice but to end his own life. His last thoughts would have been how she had broken his heart. She hadn’t felt more selfish and awful in all her lifetimes.

  The car skidded to a stop in front of his complex. Not bothering to
throw change in the meter, she flung the door open and headed for the entrance. To her surprise, no ambulances or any other rescue vehicles with flashing lights were parked along the curb. Hopefully Roberta had called them, and they were on their way.

  She raced through the lobby, up the elevator, and to his door that hung open. When she stepped through, her feet stopped inside the foyer. A light tingle returned to her scar. She could tell by its weakening fizzle that it was the aftershock of what had already been there, the remnants of its presence.

  She covered her mouth and walked forward, afraid at what she might see. Her entire body now tingled from the adrenaline. Roberta’s quiet sobs bounced down the walls of the hallway, and Alyx’s eyes drew to Benjamin’s outstretched hand that lay on the floor from behind the living room wall. “R-” she attempted to say from behind her hand, but her the words jammed again. She cleared her throat, and Roberta recognized the sound.

  “Oh, Mija!” Roberta cried and ran to her from around the corner, burying her wet face into Alyx’s arm. “He’s gone.” The blood that drenched Roberta’s clothes from where she had undoubtedly been holding Benjamin seeped through Alyx’s sweater like a thirsty sponge, turning her stomach. Her knees trembled again with a vengeance, and if Roberta hadn’t been holding her, they would have given in again.

  Alyx’s eyes focused on his hand and were unable to produce anymore tears from the shock. As the faint screams of the approaching sirens penetrated the building walls, she knew that if she wanted to see him one last time, this was her chance. When they arrived, she would be lucky to get so much as an inch from him.

  She patted Roberta’s arm. “I need to see him,” she whispered grimly, still staring at his lifeless hand.

  “No, Mija, don’t see him like that,” she pled.

  “Roberta,” she asserted. “I need you to move so I can see him now.”

  “No, Alyx. Please don’t!”

  She pried free and continued forward as Roberta tugged on her hand, begging her not to go. When she arrived at the corner, she turned to stone and her legs finally gave in, landing with a smack on the hard wood floors. She fought to keep her eyes open as they insisted on rolling back into the sockets, the gruesome visual pummeling her psyche.

  Benjamin’s arms lay above his head, spattered with blood from the large gashes all over his body. A pained expression distorted his once handsome face that now drowned in a pool of red. She fell onto her heels, and her eyes scanned over the furniture that had also been soaked in a grisly bloodbath. Whoever had done this also ripped apart his entire apartment, destroying absolutely everything he owned.

  The pattering of multiple footsteps approached from behind, and a pair of hands slipped under her armpits, saving her from gravity that sucked her to the floor. Her last visual before her eyes closed for good was a group of men who rushed by in slow motion as they surrounded Benjamin’s body like a swarm of bees.

  * * *

  Isaac munched on a peanut butter and honey sandwich during his break from cleaning the flat. The only thing left to do was clean the bathroom. He saved that chore for last because it was indisputably the worst room of the house.

  “You alright?” Isaac called.

  “For the hundredth time… yes, dad,” Micah groaned from the loft.

  Isaac grinned. He has his grandaddy’s stubbornness, that one. “Sue me for carin’ then.”

  He set the sandwich on the table to get a cola from the fridge when Micah hurried down the stairs with a green face. Alright, my butt!

  He followed him to the bathroom and rubbed his back as he dry heaved. Yellow stomach bile splashed into the water. Isaac snatched a rag from inside the cabinet to wet it and lay it over Micah’s neck, remembering when Rachel would do that for him and that it somehow seemed to help.

  Micah stood from the toilet and made his way toward his room. “Take this with you,” Isaac said, wringing the rag in his hands. “It always helped me.”

  When Micah passed by, he took it from his father and draped it across his neck as he hobbled to the metal staircase.

  Isaac trailed behind him and made a mental note to call the doctor after he cleaned the bathroom.

  * * *

  Alyx’s eyelids fluttered open.

  “Piedmont Hospital,” a husky, female voice said.

  Alyx was vaguely aware that she lay atop a moving stretcher as the voice’s owner pushed her through the complex doors. News vans and emergency vehicles lined the sidewalk, and her eyes rested on a tall, blonde woman standing in front of a news camera. “Sometime during the late morning hours, esteemed surgeon Dr. Benjamin Forbes was found murdered in his home,” she began.

  Alyx peered up at the large woman who guided her bed.

  “Ma’am, can you hear me?” the woman asked.

  Alyx gently nodded.

  “We’re taking you to the hospital, ok? Everything is going to be fine.”

  Her gaze moved straight ahead to an ambulance along the curb whose doors spread wide in anticipation to ingest her and the stretcher. Two cars in front of it sat her car with a yellow parking citation stuffed under the wiper blade.

  The scar on her shoulder ached from all of the action it received that day, quickly reminding her of the sensation when she first walked into Benjamin’s condo. Had the invisible beast that visited her apartment just hours ago done that to him? And why?

  Her mind raced back through her encounters with the man in the black suit, who was more than likely associated with the beast, judging by their identical effect on her scar; her first being in the elevator with Cindra, then on the way home from Isaac’s, and then on her way to the coffee shop after leaving Benjamin’s, before her last, which was in her apartment that afternoon after he had left.

  Had they followed him too? Did I lead them to him? These invisible, evil creatures, or relatives thereof, had followed her since last Friday. And if they killed Benjamin, what would they do to Cindra? To Isaac? Or had they already?

  As they approached the ambulance, Alyx made the decision to make a run for her car. She would hunt the both of them down to make sure they weren’t in any danger. She discreetly patted her jacket pocket to feel for her keys – the place she usually shoved them when she didn’t have her purse. The lumpy bulge jingled softly, and she reached inside to hold them and wait for her chance to run. No way would the EMT willingly let her out of their sight. Not only did she assume that Alyx needed medical attention, but Alyx was at the crime scene when they arrived and the police would question her eventually. She knew how it would look if she ran, but Isaac and Cindra were her main concerns.

  The EMT stopped at the ambulance doors and walked around to fetch something inside. Here’s my chance. Alyx flung the sheet away from her and took off running, thankful that she wore tennis shoes that day.

  In one swift move, she opened the car door and fell inside, sticking the key into the ignition and cranking the car before the EMT realized she had left. “Hey!” the lady yelled from the ambulance. “Where are you going?”

  Alyx punched the gas and tore away in the other direction, squealing the tires as she sped off. The news crew and curious passer-bys stared after her in disbelief.

  In the rearview mirror, she watched a policeman on the curb sprint to his squad car, yelling into the radio on his shoulder. She would need to be creative on her way to Isaac’s if she wanted to avoid a police chase.

  Her heart raced as she turned sharply onto a one-way side street, and the police sirens screamed behind her as they broadcast their pursuit. She ran the next stop sign and turned left into a parking garage, determining it would be impossible for her to run in the car they witnessed her speed away in. Every police car in the city would be looking for her. She needed to find another way around the city.

  She pulled up to the arm and pushed the button for a ticket to spit out. It cost ten dollars to park there for the day, but the trade for a refuge was well worth it. After the arm rose, she sped through the garage and parked two fl
oors up. She turned the engine off to listen for the sirens again, but their wailings had trailed to a whisper. She was in the clear. For now.

  She snatched her phone from her purse to call Cindra, praying she would answer. The phone rang straight to voicemail, and she struck the steering wheel with her palm. “Shit!” She pulled up her number at work, but a busy tone beeped in her ear. What?

  While anxiously bouncing in her seat, her thoughts hammered away. Erica, her cube mate. Maybe she could tell her something. One and a half rings later, she answered. “Erica Newberry speaking.”

  “Oh thank God,” Alyx panted.

  “Alyx? Is that you? How are you feeling?”

  “Where’s Cindra?” she snipped, too stressed to bother with friendly banter.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Cindra, she hasn’t returned my calls or texts. I’m worried.”

  “Well, Alyx, I hoped you could tell me. She quit on Tuesday, and nobody’s heard from her since.”

  What?! she thought and pulled the phone from her ear. She quit?

  “What’s going on with you two?” Erica asked, and Alyx pressed the “End” button.

  Tears seeped from her eyes as she thought about what had befallen her friend, and what she might find when she visited her apartment. After Isaac’s, that would be her next destination. If either one of them were hurt it would be because of her, because she had led these beasts to them.

  Even though she worried for Cindra, Isaac remained her first priority. She wanted to check things out and try to get a visual on him to help ease her conscience. He was still alive at least, because she was, being that her existence was solely based on his. But after seeing what these beasts were capable of, it would be the only thing that could relieve her fears.

  After making sure she had plenty of cash, she called a cab and asked them to pick her up two blocks down. Her only problem now was that instead of recognizing her car, the authorities might recognize her appearance. She twisted her hair into a bun and covered it with the plaid newsboy cap that lay in her back floorboard. Her bloodstained sweater peeled from the shirt underneath as she tugged it off, but thankfully, the shirt’s black fabric camouflaged the crimson splotches.