Nine Lives (Lifeline Book 1)

by Kit Colter

  “So, he looks like a human?”

  “Sometimes.”

  “And if the Owl Man still existed?”

  “You’d be in trouble, Erin,” Espy said.

  “Yeah, but if he did, there would be records of some kind. I mean, everyone says Skinwalkers don’t exist, but there are reported sightings all the time.”

  “The Owl Man isn’t a Skinwalker.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying.”

  “Alright, if—and this is a big if—reported sightings of the Owl Man were being recorded as something else, I would guess—and I’m guessing here, Erin—they’d be listed as Wendigo sightings. They eat people. Usually seen at night. Oversized.” Espy sighed. “What definitely doesn’t match is the owl part and the fact that Wendigo used to be people. They start out human and turn into monsters.”

  “And they come from completely different traditions,” Erin said. “Wendigo is from way north, isn’t it?”

  “You say tomato; I say tomate,” Espy said.

  “Different names for the same thing?” Erin asked.

  “Maybe,” Espy said. “That’s probably not what Grandma would say though.”

  “It’s a place to start,” Erin said.

  “Erin, you’ve got to go see Grandma. I don’t know what she said to your mom. I don’t. But I know your mom doesn’t understand, and I know Grandma was trying to help.”

  “You think I don’t know that?” Erin asked.

  “Just—just hear me out.”

  Erin scowled into the phone.

  “Erin, I don’t know how to say this, but Grandma knew. She knew you were going to try to kill that guy.”

  Erin felt a plummeting sensation in the pit of her stomach. “Coach?”

  “Your mom didn’t want to listen. I didn’t even want to listen. And she would never explain—she says it’s your business, your secret. She won’t say anything about it to anyone but you, but I’m telling you she knows what’s happening, Erin. And you have to go see her.”

  “Espy—” She was going to say that was impossible, that not even she had known she was going to try to kill her softball coach, but just then Erin realized she was being watched. Her eyes slid to the right. A man with light brown hair and pale skin was walking toward her. Erin hung up the phone without another word. The man seemed extremely nervous and stopped several feet away, hands in his pockets.

  “Are you Erin?” he asked.

  “No,” she said.

  “Really?” he asked. “Because, I was ... I just ...” He studied her face in confusion. “I’m sorry,” he said, turning away.

  “Hey,” Erin said, taking a couple steps after him. “Wait.”

  He stopped, a little hesitantly, then gave her a nervous once-over.

  “What do you want with her? With Erin?” Erin asked.

  The man’s mouth dipped at one side, his gaze scanning her face carefully, gently. “I don’t know. It’s complicated.” He started to turn.

  “No. Wait a sec. Alright, I’m Erin. Just wait a second,” Erin said.

  The man stopped, then slowly faced her. “I thought you were her,” he said.

  “So?” Erin asked.

  The man glanced around, still nervous. “I know what’s happening. I know what’s happening to you.”

  Erin stared, lips parting in surprise.

  “You’re in danger,” the man said. “Much more than you know.”

  “Yesterday’s news.” Erin struggled to regain her cool. There was something about this guy—something that felt different.

  The man’s expression changed. “This is so difficult. I can’t expect you to believe me—”

  “Good, because I’m not going to,” Erin interjected.

  “But I was sent here to help,” he said.

  Erin took a step back.

  “Wait. Just let me explain,” he said. “My name is Lucas Brook. I’m a low level psychic. I work for a group, a kind of Order.”

  “An Order?”

  Lucas nodded. “The order of Vehn Lei Enidaure,” he said, with a heavy accent that sounded like a mix between Irish, Italian, and maybe Romanian.

  “They heard about what was happening, and here I am,” he said simply.

  “And you’re going to help me how?” Erin asked.

  “First, I’m going to put up a barrier around your home,” he said. “You live in an apartment complex, right?”

  “Maybe,” Erin said.

  “And then I’m going to find out who, exactly, is after you, and why,” Lucas said.

  “You can put up a barrier?” Erin asked.

  He nodded. “It won’t hold indefinitely, but for the time being, yes.”

  “And that’ll keep what out?” she asked.

  “Demons,” he said. “Or, lesser demons. All it’ll do against the strong ones is slow them down.”

  Erin looked down at the concrete. Sirian would be coming soon. She had no doubt he’d somehow track her to Santa Fe. She looked at Lucas for a long time, comforted by the fact that he was standing here in the daylight. This meant one thing for sure. If vampires really existed—and it seemed they did—he wasn’t one of them. Knowing this almost made her feel hopeful. Maybe he actually could help her.

  “What about vampires?” Erin asked. “Would it keep them out?”

  “I can’t keep all of them out, but if you knew the individual’s name, yes, I could create a barrier that would keep that person out, vampire or no.”

  Erin studied him. She could feel something—she just wasn’t sure what it was. He said he was psychic. She assumed that could possibly be what she felt, the odd sensation that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

  “Alright,” Erin said, “meet me tomorrow at four. I’ll be here. Then we’ll talk.”

  He considered it, then nodded. “I won’t let you down. I promise.”

  Erin studied him a moment longer, nodded, and walked back to her car. She took one last look at Lucas and then left for the library. When Erin reached the back door of the Scottish Rite Temple, she was almost surprised they let her back inside. She’d expected something to stop her. She’d almost expected the library to disappear. Erin pushed through the doors, and Gregory the peevish book-keeper was standing at the counter on the other side. He gave her a withering look.

  “Hey, Greg,” she said.

  His right eye squinted noticeably.

  “Lyle still here?” Erin asked, glancing at the bell in a threatening manner.

  Gregory lifted one hand and pointed toward the back.

  Erin hit the bell as she passed. Lyle was precisely where she had left him, sitting on the floor with files scattered all around, mumbling to himself.

  “Hey,” Erin said.

  He looked up, grinning from ear to ear. “Wasn’t expecting to see you again. I guess everyone deserves a little surprise now and again.”

  “Yeah,” Erin said.

  “Speaking of surprises, and you won’t believe this, Ann,” Lyle said. “You just won’t believe.” Lyle casually slapped himself in the side of the head, knocking his glasses down his nose.

  Erin took a steadying breath.

  “I can hardly believe it myself,” he said, laughing. “I forgot, entirely. Just forgot.” He laughed again, that tense laugh, then pushed his glasses up.

  “Forgot what?”

  “Forgot to tell you,” he said, shaking his head. “The most important part.”

  Erin rubbed her temples. By this point, she thought she’d heard two completely different most important parts. So, now there was a third.

  “Yeah?” she asked.

  “Yes. Yes, I forgot to tell you about sunlight,” he said.

  Erin remembered how Sirian had roared in pain when the sunlight hit him. The sound was still fresh in her ears. She felt her throat constrict at the thought of him, her heart pounding. She inhaled deeply.

  “And this goes back to the parasite, Ann,” Lyle said. “The parasite is violently sensitive to chol
ecalciferol.”

  Erin grimaced.

  “Vitamin D,” Lyle clarified. “The type created by the body in response to sunlight.” He cleared his throat. “This is where the parasite is flawed. Not in its sensitivity, per say, but in its reaction. Again, I can’t say exactly what happens in the minutest details, but I can tell you what it comes down to.”

  “And that is?” Erin asked.

  Lyle opened his mouth to speak, then froze as Gregory appeared at the end of the aisle. This time Gregory walked to a drawer directly above Lyle’s head, opened it, and put away some files. He seemed to take his time in doing so, then slammed the drawer closed. He stepped back, glaring at both of them.

  “What are you two doing?” he asked.

  “Talking,” Erin said. “That’s allowed, isn’t it?”

  Gregory gave her a sharp look, then glared at Lyle for a moment before turning away.

  “What is his problem?” Erin asked, turning to Lyle.

  Lyle stared hard at the carpet. Erin wondered if this was what paranoia looked like or if she had something to really worry about.

  “You okay?” Erin asked.

  “Yes,” he said, pushing up his glasses. “Anyway, where was I?”

  “You were telling me what it comes down to,” Erin said.

  He appeared momentary confused. “Oh, yes. In relation to sunlight. Yes. Alright. When exposed to cholecalciferol—Vitamin D—created by the body in reaction to sunlight, the parasite hits the panic button. It takes an already high strung creature, and puts it in hyper drive. With enough sunlight, the vampire can die, actually, from extreme hypertension.”

  “Hypertension?” Erin asked.

  “High blood pressure,” Lyle said.

  “And then they burst into flames, burn to ashes, and all that because ...?” Erin asked.

  “They don’t,” Lyle said. “No flames. No ashes.”

  “Then, why all the myths about it?”

  Lyle smiled a little. “I believe this is because people make up explanations for things they don’t understand. Think about it. The sun is hot, and thus, the only way it makes sense, in the way of hurting someone, should be to burn them.”

  Erin nodded. It made sense. All of it made sense—or as much sense as anything else lately. But she couldn’t take his word for it.

  “Are those the files?” Erin asked, pointing toward a pile of neatly stacked papers.

  “Some of them,” Lyle said, then gestured to his right where scattered papers lay. “These are the others.” His expression brightened. “You’re still going to read them?” he asked.

  Erin nodded.

  “Oh. Excellent. Splendid.” He swiftly handed her the neat pile, then began organizing the others. “I’m really quite excited about hearing what you have to say about it all.” He stacked the others next to her feet. “I’ll just leave you to it.”

  “Wait,” Erin said.

  Lyle hesitated.

  “Have you read anything about Wendigo? Or the Owl Man?”

  Lyle frowned and shook his head. “You think it’s related?”

  Erin nodded.

  “You read. I’ll go have a look about. See what I can dig up.” Then he quietly slipped away, leaving Erin with two neat stacks of papers. She thumbed through one and, unable to make any definite sense out of anything, just started reading the first page. Forty minutes later, Lyle silently placed a third pile of papers on the floor beside her left foot, then waved and disappeared.

  * * *

  When the clock hit twelve, Gregory practically had to drag Erin out of the building. She had become completely immersed. In studying. Putting the pieces together. She guessed not a single word of it would have made any sense if it hadn’t been for Lyle’s earlier explanation. But reading it on paper made her feel, more than ever, like she wasn’t crazy. Like she never had been.

  Erin hadn’t even touched the third pile of papers by closing time, so she stuffed them into her jacket. Gregory was too busy shoving Erin toward the exit to realize he was aiding and abetting her theft. Erin was so absorbed in her thoughts—in the logic-defying reality she’d fallen into—she didn’t notice the figure striding across the dark parking lot behind her. She unlocked her car, slid into the driver’s seat, and started the engine.

  Then the passenger door opened and Coach’s face appeared.

  Erin slammed the car into reverse and hit the gas. The open door smashed into Coach and knocked him to the ground. Erin stomped on the brakes and shoved the shifter into drive.

  “You can’t outrun this, Erin,” Coach growled, pulling himself to his knees, his face and hands smeared with blood. Beneath the determination and anger, Erin recognized the lightlessness in his eyes. The endless darkness.

  “You belong to me—”

  Erin floored the gas pedal, tearing out of the parking lot and making a sharp right turn onto the street, forcing the passenger door to snap closed. She glanced at her rearview mirror once, twice, three times. Almost hit a red truck. Swerved into the fast lane. Checked her mirror again.

  He’d followed her. From Phoenix. How could he possibly have known where she was? Where she was going?

  Erin checked the mirror once more, then took several deep breaths.

  She momentarily considered driving back to Phoenix. At least in Phoenix, she had places to stay. But she wasn’t done at the library. She needed more information, especially if Coach turned out to be possessed. She had to find out how to undo it, not to mention how to fend off Krysis. And Sirian. And demons.

  Erin snapped on her blinker, switched lanes, and headed to Cerrillos Road to get a motel room. She chose the Motel 6 across from Denny’s so she’d have an easy meal nearby if she ever got her appetite back. Entering the room, her mind moved to Sirian. Would he find her here? She pondered the chances. She could already feel him, that tall dark figure, rising up behind her. Looming closer and closer. If it had been him in the parking lot and not Coach, she wouldn’t have had a chance.

  Erin briefly wondered if it would be safer to sleep in her car. Was she going to be able to sleep anyway? She heard a ringing sound and bit her lip, then pulled out her phone to see Isaiah’s caller ID photo on the screen. Took a deep breath and silenced the call. Then she gazed around the empty motel room. Green curtains. Floral pattern bed covers. A painting of a whooping crane. If something showed up—Sirian or Krysis or one of those things, those demons—she didn’t want to be alone. The instinctual side of her mind kept telling her not to be alone. Told her there was safety in numbers.

  Erin straightened her jacket and examined her reflection in the mirror on the wall. She looked horrible. No wonder people kept asking about her face. She glanced at the door, making sure she had engaged both locks, then wished her upstairs neighbor would turn the television volume down so she could hear if anyone approached. She stretched out on the bed, fully clothed, and stared at the ceiling. She would head back to the one-hundred-dollar library tomorrow. Erin shook her head. It didn’t speak much for her chances when studying was her best bet.

  Erin pulled the second stack of papers out of her jacket and scanned the first page. She was half expecting to find more information on vampires, but found herself reading a section on the Wendigo. Lyle really did know his way around the library. Lying on her back, Erin frowned up at the page. Wendigo were basically what Espy had described—humans who were turned into horrible cannibalistic monsters. With super strength. Some sources believed the monster metamorphosis was a result of eating other human beings. They generally came out at night. Tended to be voracious and awful and inhumanly strong.

  But there was one other thing.

  Something Erin could hardly believe.

  She remembered Espy’s words: what definitely doesn’t match is the owl part and the fact that Wendigo used to be people. They start out human and turn into monsters.

  But it did match.

  Erin read the passage again and tried to steady her thoughts.

  It is generally
believed that the word Wendigo/Witiko is derived from the Proto-Algonquian term Wi-nteko-wa, which means Owl.

  Erin stared at the page and wondered what it would mean if everything—everything—made sense. What if Wendigo were turned the same way Lyle said vampires were turned? What if the cannibalism of the Owl Man and the Wendigo and the vampires was all connected? All the same? What if Espy’s tomato-tomate theory held true?

  Would it mean the story of the Owl Man was the story of the first vampire?

  * * *

  Erin found herself standing at the foot of the bed. The room was dark. Light from the hallway slipped beneath the door, dowsing several inches of the carpet with a textured yellow sheen. She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Her hair was loose and spilled smoothly down her shoulders and back. She pulled a strand through her fingers, the feeling crisp and sleek like cold silk.

  The light beneath the doorway flickered, broken by the bulk of two shoes planted just outside.

  No.

  Knocking.

  No.

  Knocking.

  No.

  Erin took a step back, then froze as the knocking stopped. A scraping sound slipped across her ears, then—

  The door crashed open, and a tall, dark figure burst into the room.

  Sirian.

  He stepped over something. Erin squinted against the shadows, realizing Sirian had stepped over a dead body—realizing the floor was littered with motionless human figures. She tried to step back, but her body was paralyzed.

  Sirian curled one hand around Erin’s neck and slowly, slowly lifted her from the ground.

  You’re mine.

  There was a cold, hard light in eyes. Something familiar. Something like moonlight.

  * * *

  Erin cried out. She leapt backward and found herself in her darkened motel room, alone. The sound of her pulse thudded in her ears.

  “Oh, my god,” she murmured, staring down at her shaking hands. Then she realized it wasn’t just her hands. Her body was trembling. Erin clenched her jaw and pressed her thumb and her index finger against her eyelids, forcing back the moisture threatening to break free.