Keely looks around her. Pulls herself over to Nick. There is a rip down the front of his shirt. A long gash across his chest. Without thinking, Keely rips the rest of his shirt away and uses it to stop the bleeding.
“Nick,” Lila murmurs as she drops to her knees beside him.
“I’m all right. Hurts like hell, but it’s not deep.” He puts his hand over Keely’s, presses the shirt harder to his chest.
“Keely, your back.” Dustin cringes.
“What is it?” She somehow had forgotten about the pain, but now feels it full force.
“Looks like that,” Dustin says, pointing to Nick. “But there’s more. Looks like two of them.”
Nick pushes himself up with his elbow and lifts the back of Keely’s shirt. Long jagged slices bleed down her spine. They aren’t deep, but he knows they hurt. “Lila, the first aid kit.”
Lila nods and disappears into the bathroom.
“What the hell was that?” Dustin spits.
“That was my brother,” Keely mutters.
“Nice guy. So, I take that as a no to the whole park meeting then?”
“That seems like what he was trying to say,” Nick scoffs.
“I really wish he would have just text,” Dustin says.
“Yeah, me too,” Keely whispers.
Right on cue, Keely’s phone sounds from where Nick dropped it on the floor. They all stare at it, afraid to touch it. Lila sets the first aid kit down between Nick and Keely and picks up the phone.
“It’s a text. It says: PANDORA, FRIDAY, 8.”
“Yeah, we already got that message,” Nick nearly shouts.
Lila goes to work on his chest as he works on Keely’s back, dabbing gently with cotton balls soaked in Peroxide. Nick stays quiet, but Keely sucks air through grinded teeth, her hands turning white from squeezing them so hard.
Lila bandages Nick’s wound then helps with Keely. As she takes over, Nick watches quietly.
“You’re very lucky, Keely. These don’t even need stitches,” Lila tells her in a soothing voice.
“I know. It could have been much worse,” she says. Her fingers caress the scar on her throat.
Nick shakes his head. Has to look away.
“So, what’s the plan now?” she asks.
“Plan for what?” Nick says each word perfectly enunciated.
Keely looks at him. “For Pandora. I obviously don’t have a choice. I have to do it his way.”
Nick lowers his head. Rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands. “You have a death wish, don’t you? Well, fine. We’ll go to Pandora Friday. We’ll hand you right over to him. Maybe if you’re lucky, he’ll spend some time torturing you first. How’s that sound?”
“Nick, I have to-”
“NO YOU DON’T! I am risking everything for you and you are going to let him kill you, Keely! Please. Please don’t do this. I can protect you. We can go. We can get in the car and just drive away. We can hide.” He takes her hands in his, grips them firmly. “We can go anywhere you want. Just please stay with me.”
Keely looks away, unable to watch him pleading with her like this. She knows he’s risked himself, his life, his job. That’s what makes this so hard. She stares at the wall as she says, “I’m going, Nick. I have to try to help my parents. He can get me if he really wants to. We just established that. I just want it to be over. I’m sorry.” She pulls her hand out of Nick’s grasp. As soon as Lila has taped the bandage, Keely pulls herself up and goes straight to the bathroom. She glares at her reflection in the mirror.
She doesn’t understand where this resolve comes from. Just a little while ago, she was sitting on the floor giving up, yet now she is determined to find her parents. Because this is probably what is happening to them, she realizes. She can’t just run away. Why can’t Nick understand that? She can’t give up on her family any more than he can give up on her.
Thirteen:
The air is warm and smells like Saturday mornings at home. Saturdays—when Keely would sleep in and awake to the sweet smell of homemade cinnamon rolls or huge Belgian waffles. On those days, she would bounce down the stairs and find her mother standing in front of the oven, her father perched at the table sipping coffee and reading the paper.
But this is Thursday morning and she is not home. The overly comfortable bed gives it away first. She knows where she is. Keely half opens one eye. Peeks around the fluffy blanket. Home sweet freaking home. Right.
“Good morning.”
Keely pulls the blanket over her head with a groan. “Send me back, Asmoday.”
“Cannot do dear sister. He wants to speak with you. And when I say speak with, I really mean speak at. He talks, you listen. Come now.”
Shaking her head and rolling her eyes from the protection of her hiding place, Keely growls out an annoyed, “Fine.” Shoves the blanket away from her and stands. The long silky nightgown slides down her legs. Another annoyed sound grumbles in her throat. “Why do you guys insist on dressing me?”
Asmoday raises an eyebrow devilishly. “Would you prefer to be nude?”
Keely refuses to make eye contact with him. Refuses to let him get to her. “No. What I would prefer is to be left alone, in my own clothes, in my own home. Why does he keep bringing me here? What is this place?”
Asmoday tsks. “Those are not questions for me to answer.”
“Why not?”
“They are not about me and I am not one to presume to know his reasoning on such things. He is… What is the right term?”
“Insane?”
Asmoday laughs. The sound is shockingly child like. Pure and sweet. “As I said, I am not the one to answer your questions.”
“Where is he?”
“Through the rabbit hole, Alice,” Asmoday instructs, gesturing with a sweep of his hand in the direction of the door.
“Off to see the Mad Hatter, I suppose.”
“Indeed.”
“So,” Keely asks as she brushes past her brother, hand on the door knob. “What’s that make you? Twiddle Dee or Twiddle Dum?”
Again, Asmoday laughs. Slides a finger down Keely’s spine, exposed from the backless nightgown. “I did not do this.”
Keely shivers at his unexpected touch. His fingers are like ice and feel good against the painful gashes. “No, you didn’t. This is courtesy of our brother.”
“I am not a fan of his art, though he did have a beautiful canvas.” His voice drips like honey, surgery sweet and maddeningly sticky.
“You’re my brother,” Keely says, more to herself than to him.
“Hmm, but I do not have to be. I can be anybody you wish. What form do you desire?” His finger glides across her back again. Gently. Tenderly.
“You disgust me.” She pulls on the door only for Asmoday to push it shut.
“Who do you want me to be?” He is so close to her now. Too close. His breath in her hair tickles her neck. Another shiver.
“Nobody. I don’t want you to exist.” She tries for calm and collected, but knows she sounds anything but.
“But I do exist. I am flesh.” He reaches out, touches her shoulder. “And blood.” Let’s his fingers trail down her arm. “And bone.” Takes her hand and turns her around. Keely gasps. Can’t close her eyes because it’s not Asmoday standing before her, but Nick.
His fingers touch her cheeks timidly. Slide to her neck. Soft as a feather, caress the scar there. His body touches hers just barely. Just enough that she should feel the heat of his skin, but instead it’s like standing in front of an open refrigerator.
He can be anything. He can be anyone.
Keely smacks his hands away. “You make me sick. You always will. No matter what form you take.” She is shaking, but feels confident her voice didn’t quiver. She actually meant what she said. He is not Nick. He cannot be Nick. Never.
Asmoday chuckles. In the time it takes Keely to blink, he has shed his Nick glamour. Keely stares into deep brown eyes.
“Don’t try to be someone you�
�re not, brother. You are just a cheap imitation. I don’t want the knock off.”
“Oh, I am the real thing, sis. Trust me.”
“Not if my life depended on it.” Keely’s stomach twists. Her life may very well depend on it. Why is she being so defiant? She swallows hard and turns back to the door. Without another word, Asmoday allows her to leave.
“My beautiful. My Keely. My daughter.”
Her father, King of Demons, sits at the table, large silver trimmed glass in hand. She can’t tell exactly what’s inside, but wouldn’t be surprised if it were blood. The color is right. Consistency too. Gross.
He smiles and stained red teeth greet her. There is red between his teeth as well, looking as if his gums are bleeding. Keely turns her head, feeling sick.
“Please, sit with me.”
Keely shakes her head. Backs up a step. “I’m good, thanks.”
He inclines his head in her direction. “Your stubbornness is a trait you have inherited from me I think.”
Yet another shiver. She doesn’t want anything from him. She doesn’t want to be anything like him at all. He meant to compliment her, she assumes. Make her feel some sort of connection to him. Instead, he’s put Farah Fritz to shame in the insult department. Up until this moment, Keely would have sworn Farah slung them better than anybody.
She clears her throat. “Asmoday said you needed to talk to me?”
“Yes. I would like your help.”
Hard swallow, like choking down pebbles.
“I can’t seem to locate Apophis, and you see, his trying to murder you is putting a damper on things.”
Hmm. She couldn’t agree more. “What do you want me to do?”
“Tell me where he is.”
“I don’t know where he is.”
“He has hurt you again.”
“Yes, and Nick too.” Keely averts her eyes. Doesn’t want him to read any emotion in them that he could use against her as her brothers are so fond of doing.
“I can make him stop. I can make him pay for his betrayal.”
“I think I would really love for you to do that,” she says, half of a smile twitching her lips.
“Then tell me.”
Uh… “I don’t know where Apophis is. Really. If I did, I would tell you. The thing is, he has my parents, and if I had any clue at all to his whereabouts, I would have gone there.”
“Your mother, he has her?”
“Yeah. My dad too.”
“I am your father, my Keely.”
“Right, yeah. I just meant my dad that I grew up with. Anyway, he wants me to give myself over to him and he’ll let my par—my mom and step dad go.”
“He never will. He’s lying.”
Keely cringes as her father takes a long drink from his glass, the thick liquid sloshes and slowly runs down the side. He licks it from his finger leaving a stain of crimson on his skin.
“Yeah, I figured that, but I have no other choice,” she murmurs.
“But you do. You have me. Tell me. Where is this exchange to occur?”
Keely hesitates. It’s not like she trusts him anymore than her brothers. Could he be trusted now? Doubtful. However, he did want her alive. If she could use that to her advantage to insure her parents’ safety, well…
“I want my parents rescued. I want them to go home safely. Alive. If I tell you where I’m meeting him, can you make that happen?”
“I can make you stay here and see to it you never make your meeting.” He glowers at her before putting the smile back in place. “However, I want nothing more than for you to be happy. If this is what you want, then I will make it happen.”
“It’s what I want.”
“Good then. Tell me.”
Keely wrings her hands. Hopes she is making the right decision. Couldn’t be any worse, right? “Pandora.”
“Good, Keely. Now, when?”
“Tomorrow. Eight o’clock.”
“Friday? That is a special day. I look forward to it.”
With a start, Keely blinks her eyes several times. Looks around the dark basement apartment. The familiar orange glow from the street lights shine on the wall. Nick’s soft snores comfort her speeding heart. She lay awake for hours trying desperately to remember what her father had looked like. She recalls seeing him, the light dim around him, but all she can envision is the syrupy red about his mouth.
Turning on her side, Keely knocks her phone to the floor. She picks it up and checks for missed calls or texts. Nothing. Bites her lip before deciding to try Bryon again. The voicemail picks up immediately. There is a message indicating that his mailbox is full. She closes her eyes and ends the call.
When the sun finally comes up, Keely moves silently off the couch and into the bathroom. She shuts the door most of the way, leaving it open a crack. She doesn’t care what Nick says, she isn’t taking chances with those whispering Demons. She sheds her clothes and takes a steaming shower. Feeling clean after the visit with her father isn’t easy. It takes two hair washings, three rounds of body washing, and all the hot water.
By the time she emerges from the bathroom, Nick is awake. Blankets are folded neatly beside him where he sits gulping coffee and avoiding looking at her.
“I’m going to school today.”
He still doesn’t look at her, just asks, “Why?”
“I want to talk to Mr. Giordano. And I want to find Bryon. If he isn’t there, maybe someone at school knows something.”
“I need twenty minutes. Is that all right?”
The cold compliance is unnerving. “Yeah. We have plenty of time.”
Nick sets his mug on the tray and makes a quick stop at his dresser before quietly closing the bathroom door behind him.
A loud noise sounds from her stomach. Breakfast time. She makes herself a bagel and sips orange juice while she waits for Nick. Unwraps the towel from her hair and brushes it slowly. Puts on socks and shoes. Powders her face and glosses her lips. Puts on mascara carefully, taking her time to coat every lash. Then she sits with legs crossed beneath her. Waiting.
They still have nearly forty minutes until school starts, so Keely decides to wash the handful of dishes sitting in the sink. In the trash by the counter, she notices her and Nick’s shirts from last night. Tattered and bloody.
She flips on the water and soaps up a rag. A shout from the bathroom makes her jump and drop a glass. It shatters across the countertop. Keely vaguely notices it as she runs to the door and throws it open.
“Nick?”
He pulls the shower curtain aside, covering his lower half. “What’s wrong?”
“What? What’s wrong with you? You yelled.”
“Cold shower. Sorry. Someone used all the hot water.”
“Whoops, sorry.” Keely tells herself over and over to keep her eyes on his face.
“It’s fine. I’m done now anyway.”
“Oh, right. You probably want me to leave.” She laughs awkwardly. Backs out the door. Just before closing it, her eyes betray her and drag down his chest before making their way back up to his face that is intently poised on her. The door clicks shut and Keely laughs at herself. Funny that she may be facing death tomorrow, but today, she still has hormones. And apparently can still get embarrassed. Who would have thought?
Back in the kitchen, she cleans the broken glass and washes the dishes. Finishes just as Nick is ready to go. They ride in silence to school. Walk side by side through the doors, but Keely feels very alone. Home room goes by slowly, as does her next few classes. As she heads to History, a nervous anticipation worms its way through her. If Bryon isn’t there, she doesn’t know what to do next. Go to his house? Call the police? Should she contact the Hierarchy? Not that she knows how, but she could go to Michael Lazlo and he could call the right people. He would take her seriously, she is sure, even if Nick and friends won’t.
Nick stops Keely at some lockers near the door. “He isn’t going to be in there.”
She squints up at him. Rubs her
lips together. “How do you know that?”
He takes a deep breath. Places an arm on a locker, blocking her from the room. “It’s him, Keely.”
Can’t anybody just talk normal anymore? It’s like speaking in code or starting halfway through a conversation. “What’s him? What are you talking about?”
Nick puts the other arm on the locker on the other side of Keely, blocking her from going either direction. From any passerby’s point of view it might look like an intimate moment between a boy and a girl, but from Keely’s perspective, it means she is about to get news she will want to run away from. Nick already knows this, anticipates it, and prepares for it. Always the Boy Scout.
“I think Bryon is the one telling Apophis where you are, how to get to you.” He studies her face. Waits.
Keely thinks this over. Her first reaction is just plain no. No way. But as her mind works, she sees how it could be possible. But Bryon wouldn’t, couldn’t do that to her. She opens her mouth to say as much, then closes it. She doesn’t truly know what Bryon would or wouldn’t do because she doesn’t truly know Bryon. She thought she did. She thought he was her best friend, but he turned out to be a hired hand. A baby sitter.
No. In her heart, she doesn’t believe that. Her heart believes in Bryon. “I see how it seems possible, but I don’t think it’s him.”
“I don’t want it to be true either, but I think it is. If we walk in there and he’s not there…”
“That doesn’t prove anything. Something could have happened to him, Nick. I mean, think about it. Why if he was a traitor to the dark side, would he up and leave when the fat lady is warming up for the big performance?”
“I did think about that. You agreed to give yourself up so why spy anymore? Apophis knows where to find you now if you don’t show up. But he’s got you so backed into a corner, he knows you’ll show. Bryon isn’t needed. He got out before he was exposed.”
Dark Calling Page 13