Nine Lives (Lifeline Book 1)

by Kit Colter

  “No, I mean it. Let’s think about this,” he said, shifting his weight from one foot to the other and leaning toward her. “You can either show up here looking like you do, which I have to say isn’t all that impressive, and come crawling back to Andrew on your hands and knees. Doesn’t sound fun at all to me. Or, you and I can work out a little something.”

  Erin tilted one eyebrow.

  “I know you wanted Andrew to think you were a little virgin Pocahontas, but you and I both know that’s not the case—not with that body. I know what kind of girl you are,” Randy said. “Believe me, I know,” he said with that sickening grin starting to peel across his mouth—

  and Erin smashed it.

  Randy howled as Erin’s fist slammed into his face, blood splattering across her knuckles. He fell backward through the doorway to the floor, and Erin leapt onto him, grabbing his shirt collar.

  “You broke my nose!”

  “If you EVER talk to me like that again—”

  “Erin?”

  She froze, looking up to see Andrew standing a few feet away.

  “Erin, what are you doing!?” he said.

  Erin stood up and stepped away from Randy, swiftly wiping the blood off her knuckles. “I— I thought you’d be gone.” She frowned, turned around, and stepped out the door.

  “No, Erin wait!”

  She stopped. She told herself she shouldn’t be here. She knew she shouldn’t be here.

  “It’s alright,” Andrew said, following Erin down the steps. “He had it coming.”

  Randy let out a choking sound.

  Andrew turned around with a warning expression. “I heard what you said to her.”

  Randy winced.

  “Get in the truck, Randy. I’ll drive you to the hospital,” Andrew said. He turned to Erin. “Would you come?”

  Erin looked at Randy, who ducked into the house long enough to retrieve the keys and a dishrag for his bleeding nose before stomping across the lawn and climbing into the back seat of the truck.

  “We could talk,” Andrew said to Erin. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”

  Erin didn’t know what to say. She knew she ought to leave. Ought to get a hotel room and cross her fingers and hope like hell Krysis or the Elemental or Coach didn’t show up.

  But she couldn’t make herself.

  “Alright.”

  * * *

  At the hospital, Andrew stopped the truck beside the front doors. “Out. I’ll be back,” he said. Randy silently exited and walked through the automatic glass doors without a backward glance. Andrew then drove out of the hospital parking lot, glancing at Erin every few seconds. Assessing the damage.

  “You came to the house to see Randy?” Andrew said.

  “What?”

  “You said you thought I was gone.”

  “Oh—No. I thought you were both gone. In the Jeep. I figured you went to the concert,” Erin said.

  “The Jeep’s in the shop,” Andrew said.

  Erin nodded slowly.

  “Then you came because you thought we were both gone?”

  “No. I just wanted to check if you’d gone. That’s all,” Erin lied.

  Andrew was quiet for a moment, probably because he knew she was lying and hadn’t made up his mind about confronting her. Eventually, he said: “So, uh, how are you?”

  “My ribs are broken,” Erin said.

  “What?” Andrew asked in alarm.

  “Never mind. Can we just go somewhere?” she said.

  “Where do you want to go?” he asked.

  Erin shrugged. “Anywhere.”

  “Do you want to go back to my place? Randy will probably be at the hospital for a while.”

  “Sure,” Erin said quietly. That’s where she wanted to go. Andrew’s place was filled with Andrew. More importantly, full of something other than Erin. It was filled so completely with someone else’s life she could hope her own life wouldn’t be able to follow her through the front door.

  That’s what she told herself.

  The drive back felt slow. Awkward. Erin tried not to think about what she was doing. About the danger Andrew was in—just giving her a ride. She’d expected to feel better now that she wasn’t alone, but she didn’t. She felt guilty instead. By the time Andrew parked in the driveway and led her into the house, Erin had started devising an exit strategy. She needed a way to leave that would create a dead end. Something that would make him want to leave her alone.

  “You want something to drink?” Andrew asked as he walked into the kitchen.

  “No, thanks.” Erin made her way over to the sofa and sank into the cushions. She let out a slow sigh. She did want a drink—badly—but she’d fall asleep. She was certain of that.

  “How about aspirin?” he asked. “Broken ribs and all.”

  “I didn’t think you heard that,” she said without looking at him.

  “What happened?”

  “Car crash, fell down the stairs, got beat half to death by a traveling salesman—take your pick,” Erin said. “Can we just pretend all that doesn’t exist for a while?” Erin asked. “Can you just, I don’t know, sit with me or something?”

  Andrew looked her over, then slowly sat down on the sofa beside her. “What the hell is going on with you?”

  Erin shook her head.

  “You need help,” Andrew said.

  “Tell me about it,” Erin said.

  “I’m serious. You need to get help for whatever this is. Whatever’s going on, it’s got to stop.”

  “Believe me, I know.”

  “Then what is it?” Andrew asked.

  “I’m not entirely sure, to be honest.”

  “What is that supposed to mean?” Andrew asked. “Because this isn’t like you. This isn’t you. The lies and secrecy and—”

  Erin kissed him.

  Maybe to shut him up because she couldn’t answer his questions. Maybe because Andrew was normal—what normal had meant for her. Maybe because Andrew wasn’t Sirian.

  Maybe.

  Andrew started to pull away, and Erin kissed him harder. He moved a hand to her thigh, kissing her back, and for a single instant she felt what she used to feel when he kissed her. The feeling was accompanied by pain now, but it was so, so close to normal.

  Andrew changed his mind then. Erin felt him pull back his hand. Felt him start to lean away. She knotted her fingers into the waistband of his jeans.

  Andrew flew off the couch. “Erin, what the hell!?”

  She was wondering the same thing.

  “What is this? You show up and break Randy’s nose, and maybe he deserved it, but it’s not like you. And supposedly your ribs are broken. And supposedly you’ve been screwing some other guy. And you’ve never wanted that. With me. You’d never let me. But now it’s okay?”

  Erin cringed. Andrew certainly had a point. He’d spent almost a year waiting for her to take the next step in the relationship only to be told she was sleeping with someone else. Of course, that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Isaiah was the only person she’d ever been with. Not that Andrew knew that. Isaiah didn’t even know that.

  Andrew shook his head angrily. “And normally—before—it would have been a dream come true, but to be honest, you look awful. Like you ought to be in the hospital. Like you survived a freaking plane crash.”

  “You’re right,” Erin said. “I should go.”

  Then she was out the door. Erin heard Andrew saying something behind her, but she didn’t wait to find out what it was. She just slid into the driver’s seat, pulled onto the road, and started driving. She drove by her apartment first to check for the Gemini. When Erin saw the Camaro gone, she pulled back onto the road and made her way to the 101 loop. And kept driving. Circling Phoenix at seventy miles per hour. Passing the same exits. The same billboards. The same hotels and outlet stores and truck stops.

  She just kept driving—thinking she wished she’d killed Coach two years ago. Thinking that was wrong of her because
it wasn’t his fault. Thinking she didn’t know if she could help him. Thinking she probably couldn’t even help herself.

  Thinking of that darkness, that demon, standing outside the doorway to her apartment. Speaking. Making Coach kill her.

  A little red-skinned treasure chest.

  Erin thought she might cry. Thought she ought to cry. But she didn’t. She just kept driving.

  Chapter 14

  Sometime after midnight when the traffic started to thin out, Erin made her third pass by the apartment looking for the twins. No luck. She briefly considered writing them a note and leaving it taped to the entryway of the apartment complex but couldn’t quite talk herself out of the car. So, Erin pulled back onto Van Buren Street and headed toward the 101 loop. She would need gas soon. She might need sleep even sooner. And what she needed most was a new plan.

  Then a silver car swerved out of the darkness and into Erin’s lane, side-swiping the nose of the Honda. Erin jerked the wheel to the right, jumped the curb, and smashed head-on into a light post.

  The airbag exploded in her face. The seatbelt jerked back on her hips and broken torso. Shattered glass rained down on her face and shoulders.

  Nothingness swirled before her sight for a moment.

  Something flickered in the darkness. Images. 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.

  ... annexusmons ...

  Sound. A car engine.

  Erin lifted her head from the steering wheel and gazed at the lamp post jammed into the nose of her car. She unbuckled her seatbelt, kicked open the door, and stepped out. Her legs collapsed, and her body crumpled to the sidewalk. Coldness seeped up from the concrete into her body. Hazy light beamed across her. Headlights. Then she heard it again. The sound of an engine. Much too smooth and clean to be the twins’ Camaro. Trembling, Erin pushed herself onto her bleeding knees, and as she did, warmth slid across the right side of her face. She could see redness out of the corner of her eye, but her gaze was locked on something else.

  The engine she heard was growling from within a silver Dodge Viper. All snaking curves and smooth angles, the car crept steadily toward her. Erin tried to stand, but fell again. She clenched her jaw as the car came to a stop beside the curb. The engine continued its smooth, purring rumble. Erin peered against the tinted windows, then gritted her teeth and grabbed the Honda’s mutilated side mirror with shaking hands, pulling herself to a standing position.

  As the Viper’s passenger door swung open, Erin knew exactly what she was going to see inside.

  “Ann, isn’t it?” came a velvety voice from the driver’s side. “Looks like you need a lift.”

  The Viper sat so low that the driver’s face was obscured, but Erin had already recognized the voice—the hips and legs wrapped in shiny black leather.

  “C’mon, Gorgeous, I haven’t got all night,” Krysis said.

  Erin heard the grainy click of a lighter, then the sound of Krysis letting out a deep breath. Smoke wafted from the driver’s side.

  “Did Sirian send you?” Erin ignored the quake in her voice, easing around the Honda to put it between herself and Krysis, who let out a peculiar laugh.

  “You know better than that,” Krysis said, and she was right. “Sirian’s dead.” She leaned sideways to look at Erin. “Now get in the car.”

  To the left, Erin saw headlights coming up the street. Help. If she could just get them to stop.

  “Go ahead,” Krysis purred, sitting up so that her face disappeared from sight once more. “Flag them down. Let’s see what happens.” She let out another stream of smoke. “Your face is leaking, by the way.”

  Erin hesitated. Her mind was foggy. She couldn’t think clearly. She reached a hand out to signal for help. Waved her arm and staggered toward the street.

  The van slowed down and began to pull over. Erin took another step toward them.

  Krysis climbed out of the Viper.

  Erin felt something snag in her mind.

  Krysis swept past, clipping Erin’s shoulder. She was going toward the van, toward the people inside. Beyond the pain and fear, Erin realized what was about to happen.

  “NO!” Erin cried. “NO! Drive! Go! Go! GO!” She waved her arms frantically. “She has a GUN!” Erin screamed.

  Krysis reached for the door handle of the approaching van just as Erin’s scream reached the driver’s ears. The van shot forward, sped through a red light, and disappeared from sight.

  Erin turned to make her best attempt at running, then saw the driver side door to the Viper wide open and waiting. She took three wobbling steps, threw herself into the driver’s seat, jammed the shifter into first gear, and stomped on the gas.

  The Viper lunged forward onto the curb. The back end broke free, fishtailing across the concrete. Erin jerked the wheel to the left, then to the right. She hit the gas again, tearing down the sidewalk, off the curb, and back onto the street.

  Erin glanced in her rearview mirror and saw Krysis standing in the street with a grin. Tightening her grip on the steering wheel, Erin took quick, shallow breaths to avoid moving her ribs and told herself to calm down. She was back on the road. She was in the fastest car in all of Phoenix. She had half a tank of gas. She was okay. The engine’s cool vibrations soothed her aching muscles as she drove down the dimly lit street, the Viper reacting to her every touch.

  This wasn’t so bad.

  Yes, it was. All she needed was to give Krysis another reason to kill her. Like stealing her car. Perfect.

  “Damn it,” she whispered to herself. She needed to find the twins before Krysis caught up with her. She needed to get rid of this car. She needed to find out what the hell annexusmons was.

  Sirian was dead.

  Erin shook her head. She couldn’t think about that.

  She needed to find the twins. She could drive by the apartment again to see if they were back, but that was the first place Krysis would look for her. In fact, Krysis had probably already stolen another car and was headed in that direction at that very moment. The Viper might be the fastest car on the street, but Erin didn’t want a high speed car chase if she could avoid one.

  So, she pulled back onto the 101 loop and continued circling Phoenix. She tried not to think about anything other than the road, but her mind kept creeping back to the images she’d seen. The mountain. The robed men. The blinding light. The demon—the same one she had seen in Las Cruces in her bedroom. The one Sirian that said seemed like some kind of projection, whatever that was. Erin wondered if that was Him—the He that Coach had spoken of—the one responsible for sending Lucas, the Elemental, all of this.

  * * *

  After Erin hit the rumble strip for the third time, she drove to a truck stop on the outskirts of town, parked the Viper amidst the idling semi-trucks behind the building, then walked around the side and entered. Blood dripping from her knees, elbows, and the right side of her face, Erin ignored the shocked stares she received, trudged across the tile to the condiments, and pulled a dozen napkins out of the dispenser. Pressed three of them to her face and stepped up to the counter.

  A clerk walked out from the back, an older woman, and halted mid-step. “Oh my—Miss, just wait right there. I’ll call an ambulance right away.” She reached for the phone.

  “Don’t,” Erin said. “Don’t call. It’s just scrapes and bruises. I’m fine really.”

  “I think we should—”

  “Don’t call,” Erin insisted, forcefully now. “I just need to sit down.” She reached into her pocket. “I have a dollar,” she said, feeling incredibly tir
ed as she slapped the bill down on the counter. “I’m really hungry.”

  The female clerk hurried around the counter and shuffled Erin into a booth in the back. “Now, Miss I really think you should let us call the ambulance for you.”

  “No. Please don’t call,” Erin said, trying to think of a reason. “I— I don’t have any health insurance.”

  The clerk frowned. “Alright then, but let’s get you cleaned up.” She hurried into the back and in seconds returned with a wet towel and a styrofoam bowl of warm water. Erin took it thankfully and gently pressed the warmth against her face. She was so tired that she really just wanted to sit there and bleed, but the clerk would call 911 if she didn’t show some signs of recovery.

  After helping Erin clean up a little, the clerk brought her two chicken sandwiches and a soda, much more than her money’s worth, but Erin wasn’t about to argue. She ate both in a few seconds, and with a full stomach, let her forehead ease down onto the table.

  The darkness that filled her mind was quickly replaced by a towering human silhouette. But he wasn’t a person. She knew that. He had the moon in his eyes—a cold, hard, inhuman light. The Owl Man. The vampire. The figure in an alleyway.

  Sirian.

  He was dead.

  He was gone.

  Erin wasn’t sure what it meant, but it meant something.

  * * *

  Erin awoke to the sensation of something sliding into her ear. She jumped, snapping up to see the twins sitting across the table from her. Derek had a plastic straw in one hand.

  “What?”

  They grinned at her.

  “Nice scratch there,” Seven said, squinting at the right side of her face.

  “Thanks,” Erin murmured, picking up the now cold, wet towel and pressing it against her face. She’d gotten blood on the table, so she used her sleeve to wipe it up.

  “How’d you find me?” she asked.

  Derek reached across the table toward her, and Erin leaned back in her seat to avoid his hand, but he didn’t stop. He reached toward her abdomen, and Erin started to stand up, but then he grabbed the second button on her denim jacket. He angled the button to reveal the underside, which was fitted with a tiny black circuit board.