It wasn't difficult to unlock the balcony door. All the apartments were identical, and Brady knew his way around John's living room like he did his own. Stretching his mass, he formed what almost could have been a finger, and slid aside the lock. He enveloped John again and moved on. John managed to grab the door on the way out, and held on with all the strength he had. Brady loosened more of his form into John's mouth, seeping into the naval cavity. John's eyes widened as he started to choke. Brady pulled him free easily, and let him breathe once again.
The night was chilly with a gentle breeze in the air. Brady didn't exactly have hairs that could stand up on skin, but regardless of his form, could always feel the world around him. The parking lot was completely empty, except for a stray cat resting on the hood of a nearby car. The full moon loomed high overhead. The trees gently rocked back and forth with the wind. There was only a single streetlight on the corner, covering most of the apartment complex in shadows.
It was the perfect night to put a scare in someone.
John's apartment was on the second floor. Brady lifted him easily, still keeping him cocooned, and moved him over the railing. With his form still made of liquid, he moved in between the bars of the railing and fell to the ground below. There was no impact, no bones to break. His form simply compacted a bit to soften the landing.
Brady moved across the grass, taking John with him. He could have carried the drunk easily, but decided to have a little fun. Loosening his essence, he dragged John across the dirt. John flailed and reached out, and his fingers slid across a tree branch. Gripping the makeshift weapon, he swung it at Brady's mass, but it only nestled snuggly in his liquid body. If Brady could have laughed, he would have. With a bubbling sound, he sucked the branch into himself, away from John's grip, and spit it away.
He heard a gasp.
"Help—"
Brady quickly moved back into John's mouth. He was careless for a moment, leaving an opportunity to scream. It was an easy fix. John finally stopped struggling, as each movement made it more difficult to breathe.
Finally, they reached their destination. Brady dragged John down a narrow gap between apartment buildings. It was claustrophobic, only four feet across. The kids used it as a shortcut to the playground in the back. Little light reached them, just enough to create a few ominous shadows.
Brady released his hold and slithered away. He rose upright as John coughed and gasped on his hands and knees. Slowly, he assumed a shape, but not his own. There wasn't much terrifying about Brady Jones. But he had a large fountain of real life experience and a dark imagination to draw from. Plenty of sleepless nights, afraid of who might come through the bedroom door. Low budget horror movies, awful in plot, but amazing in atmosphere. Brady always thought the most terrifying things weren't what you could see, but what you couldn't.
His form grew, and grew. He stood at slightly over seven feet tall. His legs and arms formed, but not completely. He didn't bother with hands, instead just letting his arms kind of end. He kept himself vague by design. No clothes, hair, no facial features of any kind. He didn't even bother with real skin, keeping his form black.
Brady was a living, breathing shadow. The stuff of nightmares.
He loomed over John, whose breathing was finally returning to normal. John coughed once more, then his eyes shot open when he looked up at Brady. Brady was pleased with his choice of forms, and his improvisation, as the look on John's face was priceless. Pure terror. Just maybe, for a brief moment, John had an idea of what his son felt.
Brady wanted to see if he could stretch that moment.
John slid in the grass as he attempted to get up and run. It was almost comical, like someone had poured oil under his feet. It took two stumbles before he could even take a step.
By then, it was too late.
Brady placed his arm on the wall next to him. Part of his mass shot out along the brick, stretching past John before he could gain any speed. His mass sprung from the wall and changed. Metal cord formed, intertwining and growing in seconds. What once was the way back to the apartments was blocked by a five-foot-high chain link fence.
The sensation of spreading so much of himself always felt odd. Brady wasn't creating simple clothes, or a nightstick to rest on his hip, but an actual solid, structural fence. Pulling his hand away from the wall, he left the fence in place, amused as John shook it. If Brady didn't stray too far, the fence would remain for as long as he willed it to. If he went further than twenty feet the fence would revert to liquid, and move to merge with Brady's main form.
He didn't know how, but the fence also had senses. He could feel the grass and dirt underneath him, the brick wall at his sides, John shaking him with his fingers.
Unable to escape, John whirled and pressed his back against the fence. Brady's division of his form had a cost, and he lost nearly a foot from his height. Despite that, John's terror hadn't faded. He opened his mouth to scream, but Brady was too fast. Holding up his arm, his essence shot out once again, wrapping around John's mouth several times. He clawed at Brady's arm, but he had no chance to free himself.
Brady could mimic voices as well as shapes. He picked one he'd heard from the victim of a real-life exorcism that had slipped into his YouTube viewing. Whether the video was real or hoaxed, the voice had haunted his dreams.
It was the perfect choice. A raspy, deep voice of a demon.
He formed a mouth to speak.
"Shhhhh," he said. "Don't talk."
John went still with fright as tears ran down his face. Brady almost felt pity, but then the thought of Sharon and Chad living in fear of the one man who was supposed to protect them pushed him forward.
Brady reached out with his free arm and formed a claw. He didn't attack John, simply rested the claw against the side of his face.
"You hit your wife," Brady said, trying to sound menacing. The shoplifters in the mall could testify to how nonthreatening he was. But the shadowy, shapeless form and voice went a long way. "You hit your son."
"No!" John said. "No, I don't!"
"You lie."
Brady lost his temper, and dragged a claw down John's chest, tearing his shirt. A new liquid besides tears joined the conversation. John fell to his knees and let loose a stream of urine in his jeans.
Brady wanted to unleash so many more horrors on the abusive husband and father. Part of him wanted to punish John, hurt him, for all the beaten and battered families out there. Maybe even work out a little therapy for himself, his past. But the important thing was Sharon and Chad, making sure they were safe.
"If you ever hit your wife or child again," Brady said. The menace in his voice wasn't an act. He nearly shook with anger. "I'll kill you. Do you understand?"
John said nothing. Whether he was petrified with fear, contemplating his next move, seeing his life flash before his eyes, Brady didn't know or care. He leaned down and thrust outward with his arm. Half of it was now a sharp blade, and he sliced into the dirt next to his ear. John shook back to the moment.
"Yes! Yes, I promise!"
A third appendage grew from Brady's mass. Another blade formed, aiming for John's face. Brady nicked John's cheek, ever so slightly, just enough to draw blood. He wanted the violent drunk to remember this night. It wasn't an alcohol-fueled dream. Brady wasn't a murderer, so his threat to kill John was hollow.
But if John didn't keep his word, Brady would make his life a living hell.
"I'll be watching you," he said.
Now for the exit. After scaring John to the point of urination, Brady simply couldn't shift into a pair of shorts and sandals and walk away. He drew all his mass into him. The arms, blades, the chain-link fence. As the fence turned back into his essence he let it roll over John, another reminder of the night. Brady turned into a shapeless pillar before shrinking into a hawk. The entire process took ten seconds. He could have shifted faster, but he wanted John to see, wanted those images to stick in his mind.
Letting out a loud caw, he took to
the skies, leaving John to cry alone.
The night sky calmed his nerves. The town, even in the dead of night, was a sight to behold from above. Occasional pockets of light and life. Darkness and shadows. The odd car roaming the streets, or turning into a drive-thru for a quick bite. The streetlights, even in a small town, were beautiful. Brady could experience life from an angle that others could only dream of.
It was another reminder that he wasn't human.
He pushed the thoughts aside and scouted a roof to land on. A nearby firehouse had a nice, flat roof, away from prying eyes. Brady didn't bother touching down first. Over the years, he'd learned how close to the ground he needed to be to shift back into a human form without gravity beating him up. His talons extended and grew, followed by his wings. Legs formed, and then his arms and head. Clothes emerged from newly-formed skin, and he concluded the transformation with a pair of sandals.
Brady rested his palms on the three-foot ledge circling the roof. Fatigue poked at him, and not just because of the late hour. Shape-shifting took its toll, namely in the way of energy. Changing shape too often and too quickly taxed him. But it was never anything a good night's rest and some pizza couldn't fix.
Although, at that moment, Brady couldn't have slept even if he tried.
He'd never used his powers to threaten anyone before. Playing pranks, hiding in the girls' locker room, disguising himself as a purse to figure out if a sophomore in his math class liked him, that was as far as he took his abilities. He didn't have dreams of robbing a bank, or fighting crime. He just wanted to guard the mall, as much as his boss Paula disapproved.
Did he just become the bully he always hated? Did he become one of his foster parents?
Brady wasn't sure. All he knew was that things would be very different for Sharon and Chad when they returned home.
Gathering himself, he turned into a hawk once again to fly home. He just wanted to hide in his corner of the world. Watch TV, surf the web. Hopefully the rest of the weekend wouldn't be like today.
It had certainly been an interesting day.
CHAPTER 8
Lily woke from sleep when the front door to the apartment opened. Tears were streaming down her face, and she didn't know why. Remnants of her dream tickled her memory. She'd dreamed of her cousin, Alyson. She couldn't remember what the dream was about, or what the two young women did. All she remembered was that Alyson was alive. Alyson was laughing at something unseen. A dragon was perched on her shoulder, as ridiculous as that was.
Reality came crashing down as Lily sat up in bed. Alyson wasn't alive. She hadn't been for the past four years. Some days went by and Lily barely gave her cousin a thought. Then other times she couldn't stop thinking about her. Life was strange that way.
"Lily!"
Emma was a whirlwind out in the living room. Lily heard the TV turn on, items being moved around, shoes tossed across the floor. The bedroom door opened, and Emma's blond head poked inside.
"You awake?"
Lily wiped away the remaining tears and glanced at the alarm clock. It was nearly noon. Emma was on her lunch break, making her daily stop at the apartment for a sandwich. Lily always slept in, the results of a night job and a late-night social life.
"Yeah, yeah."
Emma stepped into the room. "Hey, are you okay?"
"Just not feeling well," Lily lied. "It's been a long week."
"You drank too much last night."
"I did not."
"Well, I hope you saved some room for tonight."
"We went out last night."
"It's Friday. Going out is better on Friday. Maybe I'll get everyone together and we'll swing by the smut shop. We can eat dinner there, then go out."
"That sounds great."
"Steve is coming with us."
Emma cast her wicked smile. All Lily could do was get out of bed and frown. Emma had spent the past week in matchmaker mode, even inviting Steve over earlier in the week for a very uncomfortable dinner.
"Emma, Steve and me, I just don't think that's going to happen."
"Why not? You don't think he's cute?" She stepped forward and gently ran a finger along her tattoo. "He said he hopes you'll pet his dragon."
"He didn't say that."
Emma winced, as if hearing the words for the first time. "Actually, he did. Hmm, not sure how I feel about that."
"Nice. Well, make sure to tell him tonight he'll be petting his own dragon."
"If you don't like him, maybe I'll give him a shot."
"Have fun with that. Your boyfriend will love that."
"Don't worry. I know plenty of guys. I'll send your resume out."
"Emma, you don't have to—"
"I'm making a sandwich. You want something?"
Lily sighed, accepting defeat for now. "Yeah, please."
Moving from one corner of the bedroom to the other, she gathered enough clothes to not look like a total mess walking into the living room. Emma was already halfway done eating her ham and cheese. A second plate, complete with sandwich and chips, waited for Lily. She sat next to Emma without a word and took a healthy bite.
A small smile crossed her face as she regarded her roommate and friend. Emma worked as a secretary at a small business, and looked the part. Clean, white blouse. Tiny gray skirt. Three-inch heels. Lily hadn't picked out her clothes for the night ahead, but she had her eye on a tee shirt with a skull on it, and her favorite pair of jeans, covered with rips and tears. The two women certainly wouldn't be mistaken for sisters. Emma was bubbly, blond, very much at home in the center of a selfie. Lily had been called gothie before. While she pretended to be offended, if that meant she followed her own path, it was more like a compliment.
"So, how much porn do you think you'll sell today?" Emma asked.
"Hopefully a lot. It'll keep Bill from hitting on me."
"Your boss? Isn't he married?"
"Yeah. But when has that stopped someone?"
"Good point." Emma was quiet a moment, mindlessly flipping through the channels. Lily knew her well enough to know something uncomfortable was coming. "Lily, listen, are you okay?"
"What do you mean?"
"I heard you whimpering in your room this morning. I thought you were, you know, solo sexing it up. But it didn't sound like it."
"I just had a bad dream." She tried to ease Emma's concern with a joke. "Or maybe I was solo sexing it up in my sleep."
Emma laughed, but she wasn't convinced. The two women considered each other friends. They went out together often, usually in their group of friends. But Lily was a private person, and she didn't share everything.
To her credit, Emma didn't push. She simply gathered her trash and headed to the kitchen.
"I need to head back to work," she said. "I'll see you tonight. And Lily, think about Steve. Maybe give him a chance. If for nothing else, to make you scream a little. You need a good scream."
"That's why God invented horror movies."
Emma rolled her eyes and collected her purse and keys. "Have fun at the shop."
She left, leaving Lily alone. Lily finished lunch and climbed into the shower, standing under the hot spray far longer than she should have. Another long work week was nearly at an end, but unfortunately that didn't make her move any faster. She didn't look forward to the mix of possible perverts and boredom. Bill would have more sexually charged comments for her. She would no doubt catch him staring at her. Hopefully Emma was true to her word in bringing the group around for a visit and dinner. The only other thing she looked forward to was her standard visit from the porn-loving security guard.
After the shower, her gaze in the mirror fell on her beautiful dragon. She again missed Alyson, and wondered, not for the first time, if the beautiful artwork forever etched onto her was a mistake. Maybe not, as she finally managed to smile at the dragon.
"I miss you, Ali," she whispered.
It was nearly three o'clock when she parked outside the shop. She didn't leave the car right away. S
he hesitated, both dreading the upcoming work night and killing time. She poked at her smartphone, sending text after text to friends. Emma was busy at work, and could only manage a few short responses. Most of them centered around jokes concerning Steve.
Lily waited until the last possible minute to push open the darkened front doors. Her senses were immediately assaulted, and the image would add more darkness to her dreams. A man was grunting, a woman screaming. There were sounds of chains being pulled tight, of a struggle. The woman begged for more, whatever more was. Bill's back was toward her, his hands out of sight, and she was terrified to think of what was happening that she couldn't see.
Bill whirled around, his eyes wide. He held a DVD scratch repair kit as a movie played on the counter next to the register. The movie was the source of the interesting noises, as a man proceeded to spank a woman bound to an elaborate contraption that was part of a wall. Lily sighed in relief, as the thought of her boss masturbating to porn in the store would have sent her home and looking for a new job immediately.
"Lily!" he said. "You scared the shit out of me."
"Thank God I didn't scare something else out of you." She frowned at the TV. "What the fuck are you doing?"
Bill sighed. "Same damn shit. Guy buys a movie, comes back an hour later saying it's scratched. The thing is fine."
Lily shook her head. It was an old trick for customers that couldn't afford Internet access, or were desperate to keep their browser search histories clear from their wives. Buy a movie, enjoy the movie, claim the movie is damaged.
"Shit, do you want to turn that off? Before more customers come in here?"
"Ah, getting you all turned on?" he asked.
"Not quite. Has it been busy?"
"What do you think?"
"Nice. Going to be another fun night."
He gestured for her to join him behind the counter.
"Look, I was thinking about what you said last week. About those guys coming in here and giving you a hard time."
She waved away his concern. "Just idiots that ran their mouths. If it happens again, we can just hire Brady," she joked.
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