by Kit Colter
Erin continued blinking against the whitewash blinding her eyes.
“This shouldn’t be possible,” Derek said.
Erin squinted at the twins as they stood over a fully nude body lying in the middle of her living room floor. The man was athletic looking, tall, with light brown hair, and angular features. His hands and feet were covered with ash.
“Is he— Is he dead?” she asked.
“Yep,” Derek said. “The body. Not the Elemental.”
“Did you kill him?” Erin asked. “The body?”
Seven shook her head.
“No one could survive possession by an Elemental,” Derek said. “We just forced it out.”
“How?”
“Electric charge,” Seven said, setting the speargun looking firearm aside.
“Functions like a taser,” Derek said. “With enough voltage, you can demolish a demon. The electricity disrupts their frequency.”
“Frequency?”
“Every living organism has a frequency of energy. Most humans operate between fifty and eighty megahertz. Demons are closer to eight hundred million, meaning ultraviolet—which is why most people can’t see them.”
“Where do they come from?”
“Elementals all start out as Primary demons, which all start out as ghosts—or what people think of as ghosts. The ghost will dissipate naturally unless it latches onto a human energy source. The binding of ghost and human energies mutates them, and you end up with a Primary demon. Then, one in a million Primary demons, after becoming incredibly old and incredibly strong, will bind with a new energy source. An elemental or basic form of energy: heat, electricity, magnetism.”
“But you can just taser them?”
“Their frequency is just the cycle, the pattern, of their energy. Disrupt the pattern and they become vulnerable. It’s the same reason most of them stay hidden during the day. Sunlight carries frequencies in the trillion range.”
“Thus the need for a body,” Seven said.
“Humans’ electrical patterns are shielded by their physical form. If demons come out in the day, they need the same thing—a human shield. Usually, Elementals can’t manage that task because their energy is too high and destroys the host body on contact.”
“But this one did,” Erin said.
Seven nodded.
“Will it come back?”
“Probably.”
“Well, shouldn’t we leave then?” Erin asked.
Seven shook her head. “You have a tub?”
Erin paused.
“We need to figure out how this thing works,” Derek said.
Erin still didn’t understand.
“Unless you’ve given up on the carpet,” Seven said.
Erin frowned in confusion.
“We’re going to cut him open,” Derek added. “As in autopsy. Blood and guts all the over the place.”
Erin felt a wave of nausea, then pointed toward the bathroom. She watched in disbelief as Derek pulled Princess out of his jacket, dropped him on the couch, then threw the body over his shoulder and carried it through the door to the bathroom.
Erin didn’t know what to do, but she couldn’t stand the idea of just waiting for them to cut open a human body. So, she retrieved the shopping cart from the hallway, wheeled it into the kitchen—over the wood splinters, glass shards, and scattered silverware—and started stocking the cabinets. She tried not to look at the blood smeared across the cupboards, refrigerator, and tile, tried not to wonder if it belonged to Sirian or Krysis, tried not to consider the possibility that Sirian was dead. She tried—and failed.
Chapter 13
Erin couldn’t remember falling asleep, but she awoke to two sounds: barking and knocking. She winced and slowly sat up. The sight that greeted her was so strange, for a moment she thought she must still be dreaming. Evidently, the twins had felt it was necessary to cover her walls, ceiling, and floor with chain-link fencing. A row of black boxes, similar in appearance to an amplifier for an electric guitar, sat in a row along one wall, and an assortment of wires were tangled behind them. Sunlight streaming through the window glinted against the dim silver chain links. Looking toward the kitchen, Erin saw the twins had redecorated the entire apartment this way. Her attention moved to the clock. 11 a.m. She realized then that the knocking was coming from the front door, at which point she noticed Princess. He stood at the door, barking and lunging.
Erin scanned the room for her softball bat. When she couldn’t find it, she pushed Princess out of the way with one foot and peered through the peep hole.
It was a police officer.
Erin stared at the floor for a moment, then started to call for Seven and Derek. Changed her mind and snapped her mouth shut. If she made any noise, she wouldn’t be able to pretend not to be home. She couldn’t open the door. Not to have Seven and Derek come bounding into the room at any moment. With her apartment wrapped in chain-link fencing.
Erin hissed as Princess bit down on her ankle. She kicked him away, a little too hard, and he went rolling across the carpet. Erin stood there, frozen, willing the officer to go away and wondering what she would do if he didn’t.
The knocking continued for what seemed like another minute or so, and then everything but the dog went quiet again. Princess continued to let out high pitched yaps behind her. Erin ignored him, resting her head against the doorframe and taking several shallow breaths. Her ribs hurt. Her face hurt. Her arms and neck and back hurt. She thought about laying down again, but knew she would never be able to sleep through the dog’s constant barking.
In fact, what was wrong with that dog?
Erin took a step backwards and bumped into something. “Derek, can you do something about that—”
But it wasn’t Derek.
It was Coach.
Erin pushed away from him, ignoring the burst of pain in her side, and quickly located her bat lying on the sofa. She had fallen asleep with it, and now Coach was standing directly in her way.
“What are you doing here?” Erin asked. She took a slow step to the right.
“Watching you sleep,” he said, stepping sideways to block her path to the bat.
“DEREK!” Erin called, hoping her gut feeling—the feeling that told her she was completely alone with Coach—was wrong.
Nothing happened.
“Just you and me,” Coach said.
“You need to leave.” Erin took another sideways step.
He matched it. “You need to wake up and realize what this is. What you’re in for. Do you think those two—those freak show twins—care about you? The vampire? Any of them? Do you think they’re not all after the same thing?”
“And what’s that?”
“The power. The Nine. It’s what He’s after. Sending that bloodsucker, Lucas, out in the day … The fireball in a meat suit. He wants the power of the Nine. And He’s not going to leave you alone until He gets it or until you’re dead.” Coach took a step forward. “It’s what they all want—every single one of them.”
“Who is He? What do you mean by the Nine?”
Coach grinned. “You really don’t know anything at all, do you?”
Erin felt her spine stiffen. “And now you’re going to save me from Him—whoever that is?”
“Oh, I think you know me better than that.”
“Then what are you doing? What do you want?”
“I’m giving you an opportunity to choose.”
Erin took another sideways step. He knew what she was doing, but it couldn’t be helped. She needed the bat. “To choose what?” she said.
“Me,” he said.
Erin realized then that she couldn’t see the darkness in his eyes, the shadow beneath his face. She didn’t know what it meant, but she thought it had to be a good sign. A sign she had a chance.
“I don’t really understand what you’re talking about, but I don’t think you really want to do this,” Erin said in the most relaxed voice possible. “You feel like you have to. Y
ou feel like you can’t stop yourself. But you can.”
His expression darkened. “Then what am I supposed to do, Erin?” He took another step forward. “Stand by and watch while He—while any of them ... The Gemini? That vampire? Putting his teeth in your neck? Putting his hands on you? I’m supposed to stand by and watch them take what’s mine?”
“No one’s taking anything,” Erin said. “And you don’t have to do this. You can stop. I can help you.”
“Or I could stand by and let the shadow have you. Because then you’ll be close. In a way. For an instant. Because then I’d almost have you. Is that what you’re telling me? Is that what you want, Erin?”
“No. That’s not what I’m trying to say at all,” Erin said.
An intense expression of pain flashed across Coach’s features. “You should have chosen me, Erin.” He took another step forward. “They all see you as a little blood soaked box, a little red-skinned treasure chest, carrying something precious. Something they want,” he said. “But I want you. All of you.”
“Listen to me,” Erin said. “I want to help you. You’re confused. But I can help. I promise I can.”
“You already know what I have to do. You made the choice for me.”
Erin scanned the room for something closer than the bat. The dog was yapping—foaming at the mouth. There were knives in the kitchen. She just had to get there. The bat was closer, but Coach was in the way.
“You know I can’t let them have you,” Coach said.
Erin made the decision.
She lunged forward, slammed a fist into Coach’s throat, then shoved past him and leapt for her bat. Coach yanked her back by the pant leg. Erin grabbed a sofa cushion and pulled, hoping the bat would come with it. Instead, the bat rolled deeper into the couch.
Coach dragged Erin backward, but she dug in her fingers, and the entire sofa slid across the floor with her. Erin kicked with her free leg, twisted loose, and reached for the bat again. Then something collided with the back of her head, and the room seemed to dive out of sight in an instant of blinding pain. She felt her body moving, rolling over. Felt weight on her chest. Hands around her neck. Breath on her face.
“You ... made ... this happen,” Coach’s voice was saying. “You chose.”
Erin peered through the pain at Coach’s face, darkness still flickering at the edges of her sight, closing in. The room seemed to pulse for a moment. To the left, the front door swung open and a shadow—a human silhouette of slithering blackness—moved into sight just outside the front door. It expanded.
And then it spoke.
Erin could hear words, but it sounded so far away. In fact, suddenly, the whole room—Coach, the dog, the demon—all seemed miles away. Sudden exhaustion swept over her so swiftly she felt as though she was sinking into the carpet, and perfect darkness consumed her.
* * *
Images rose out of the blackness, flashing before her mind’s eye like hummingbird wings. A full moon beaming over a mountain crest. Shaking hands splattered with dark, glittering blood. A circle of robed men and an explosion of searing white light. A stone bell tower reaching toward the heavens. Shadowed blades of bloodstained grass trembling in the wind before her right eye, the star strewn sky stretching out above her left. Tendrils of spectral light gracefully draping themselves around a skeletal human figure, its cavernous form illuminated from within, its eyes so dark and depthless there could be no end behind them.
She’d seen the images last time, too.
Last time she started dying.
Last time, after months of watching living shadows cut through the day. Months of seeing things that couldn’t exist. After her parents finally gave up and tried to send her to the psych ward. After she ran away . . . to Coach’s house. After his voice. Hands. Weight. After she found a bat in her hands and started swinging. Kept swinging. After smashing his legs. Arms. Skull.
After realizing, oh-so-suddenly, that she was trying to kill the wrong person.
After dragging a razor through her own wrists.
After darkness.
The images had come.
* * *
Erin found herself listening to something that sounded like wind. Soft and quiet. It hurt, but somehow the pain was good.
Then she realized what the sound was her own breathing.
She was alive.
The orange-gold haze of afternoon light danced across Erin’s sight. Her brows furrowed in confusion. She knew where she was, but she couldn’t understand finding herself here. Erin stared up at the ceiling, struggling against a deep, aching fatigue. She looked at the clock. 5:08. She’d been out for hours.
Why was she still alive?
Her arms and legs trembled as she rolled over and pushed onto all fours, then slowly eased to her feet. The room swirled. She threw out a foot to compensate, but found herself falling sideways. Cried out as her broken ribs slammed into the television. She heard a crash as the television fell to the floor. Found herself lying beside it, staring at the dark, fragmented reflection of her own face in the cracked screen.
Erin pulled herself into a sitting position, very slowly, and looked around the room.
One of the large black boxes that looked like amplifiers was lying beside the couch. Realizing that was what hit her in the head, Erin reached back and felt her scalp. Wetness. She looked at her fingers and saw blood.
Erin struggled to her feet and walked into the bathroom. Steadying herself against the sink, she gazed into the mirror and craned her head to the side to inspect the damage. When she couldn’t get the right angle, she retrieved a hand mirror from her makeup kit and used it to view the reflection of the back of her head in the bathroom mirror.
All she could see was hair and blood.
Erin turned on the sink, lowered her head, and tried to rinse out enough blood to see her scalp more clearly. The water swirling around the drain was crimson at first. Then, after a minute or two of rinsing, it turned pink. She wrung her hair out over the sink, then froze.
The shower curtain was pulled closed, but it wasn’t enough.
A human foot was hanging out of the tub on one end. Part of an ear and head was visible at the other. A stream of blood had found its way down the outside of the tub and pooled on the tile. There were shadows of smeared blood across the inside of the shower curtain. Splatters across the walls, faucet, handles.
Autopsy.
Erin leapt out of the bathroom and jerked the door shut. She grabbed her jacket and bat, then bolted out of the apartment. Placing her free hand over her ribs, Erin tried not to breathe and hurried down the staircase. She pushed through the doors to the parking lot and kept walking. Last time she saw her car, it was hooked to the back of the Gemini’s bus. For a moment, Erin thought she’d have to resort to public transportation. Then she spotted her Honda parked at the far end of the parking lot and quickly made her way to the driver side door. Erin reached into her jacket pocket for her keys and came up empty handed. She tapped her bat against the ground and glanced back in the direction of the apartment.
There was no way she was going back in there. She had to get away from this place, and she had to do it now. Erin turned her head toward the street with the nearest bus stop in mind, then stopped. There, lying in the driver’s seat, was a half empty bottle of tequila. And her car keys. Erin shook her head, pulled open the door, and slid into the car. She carefully placed the tequila on the pavement, then started the engine.
Erin considered her options. None of them seemed promising. She could go back to Stephanie’s house—and put her at risk. She could get a motel room—and put the entire motel at risk. Or she could go to Sirian’s glass fortress. If Sirian was dead, it was the best option. But if he wasn’t dead, if he was alive and injured—and hungry—then it would be suicidal. She had no way of contacting the Gemini. But she couldn’t stay in her apartment, not after Coach’s attack, not with a dead body in the tub, not alone. She did not want to be alone with her bleeding scalp. Her bru
ised and broken body. Her aching throat and neck and spine. Now that the shock was wearing off, she hurt. Like crazy. Like her neck had been severed by a blunt force and sewn back together. Like the layers of tissue and bone had been crushed, demolished, and now she was trying to use them, all those broken pieces. Erin knew she ought to be alone. It was safer—for everyone—if she went to some hotel and waited for the twins or Krysis or the next demon to find her.
Something flashed in her peripheral vision and she noticed a CD lying on the floor of the passenger side. Devilish Deeds. She was supposed to go to the concert with Andrew this weekend. The big double date—the maybe we’re becoming an official couple event—with his awful roommate Randy and Randy’s girlfriend, Candace.
That life, the college life with double dates and roommates and concerts, seemed a million miles away.
Erin stared at the CD a moment longer. Andrew and Randall wouldn’t skip the concert just because Erin wasn’t going. They were probably already gone. And their place was empty.
* * *
Randy’s truck was parked by itself in the driveway, meaning they had all piled into Andrew’s Jeep. Erin parked close to the curb, glanced around, then made her way up the sidewalk to the rock bed beside the front door. She searched out the flat black stone under the rosebush. It looked convincing from a distance, but the instant she picked up the stone, it was obviously plastic. Erin pried open the compartment inside, shook the key into her hand, and stepped up to the house. She inserted the key into the lock and twisted.
Just then, Randy Wells opened the door, and his face instantly split into that sickening grin that made Erin cringe. He had been Andrew’s best friend since high school, and Erin had despised him from the moment they’d met.
“I thought you went to the concert,” Erin said.
“The Indian Princess returns.” Randy’s grin widened. “I know what you’re going to do, but I’m here to tell you that you don’t have to do it.”
Erin glared at him.