by T. R. Hamby
She didn’t know what to do. Could the venom in her words shock him out of his delusional state? Or would it only tighten his hold on her, encourage him to work harder on their “relationship?” She didn’t know.
Nora did the dishes and packed the leftovers away. She then hesitated, standing by the counter, that guilt still strong in her head. She remembered the horrible scars on his body, and his explanation of them. How cruelly the other children had treated him, and how alone he had always been. Now he looked for love so desperately, resorting to stalking the women he idolized, hoping they would love him back.
Things seemed different with Nora, though. More than an infatuation, like he had said. He loved her. She wondered if that was, perhaps, because she possessed qualities that drew Angels to her, that allowed Mel to love her. It was still just a theory.
She hesitated again, but then tiptoed upstairs. She went down the hall to the master bedroom. The door was open, and Nora slowly looked inside.
Roone was sitting on the side of the bed, hunched over slightly, tapping on his tablet. He had a troubled look on his face, and his jaw was working. But he seemed calm.
Nora took a deep breath and knocked on the door. He looked up.
“Hi,” he said.
He sounded pleased to see her, but also wary, still frustrated by their argument.
Nora felt another stab of guilt. “Can I come in?”
He nodded, and scooted over, making room on the bed. Nora sat next to him, not quite sure what to say.
She glanced at his tablet. “What are you looking at?”
He flushed. “Luxury dolls,” he said quietly. “I thought you might like one. I was looking at antiques, too. You can’t really hold those at night, though. Too fragile.”
Nora took a shaky breath, her heart aching. He really wasn’t evil at all. Of course, he had done bad things. But she knew it was because he was sick. He was gentle, kind, sweet. If Nora stayed with him, she knew he would treat her like a queen.
She took his hand. “I’m sorry,” she said honestly. “I shouldn’t have said those things. You didn’t deserve it.”
For a moment Roone looked surprised. Then his face fell, and he looked away. “I did deserve it, though. I hurt you. Twice. I drugged you….I kept your medications from you.”
Nora thought for a moment, squeezing his hand. “You didn’t mean it.”
“But I hurt you.”
“You said you did it for my own good. You wouldn’t have done it to be cruel.”
“No, I would never,” he said firmly, looking at her. “Never.”
They were quiet a moment. Roone looked down at their hands clasped together, brushed at Nora’s fingers. Nora wasn’t afraid of his touch anymore. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her….unless she tried to run.
She caught a glimpse of red poking out from under Roone’s sleeve, and she grasped his arm.
“Roone,” she sighed, pulling his sleeve back to expose a bloody bandage.
Roone swore under his breath. “It’s nothing.”
“Nothing my ass,” Nora said, carefully peeling the bandage off.
It was a small cut, open and oozing blood.
Nora felt a horrible pang and looked around. “Do you have a kit or something?”
Roone nodded to the dresser. Nora fished out the first aid kit and sat back down. She found some Steri strips and applied them to the wound, hoping they would work on Angel skin. Then she wrapped it with gauze.
“There,” she said, putting the kit away. “That’ll help.”
Roone stared at the bandage, an odd look on his face. His jaw worked, and for a wild moment Nora was sure he was angry, about to lash out.
But then he cleared his throat, and Nora heard that it was hoarse.
“Thank you,” he breathed, avoiding her gaze.
“Roone, when did you do that? Just now?”
He shrugged.
Nora sighed again. She hesitated for just a moment--she had to be careful, after all. But then she drew to him, wrapped her arms around his shoulders. He smelled good--sweet. He took a couple deep breaths, staring at the floor. He didn’t lean into her, but he did touch her arm, squeezing gently.
“Never again,” Nora said firmly. “Promise me.”
He nodded. “I promise.”
“Good.”
She really meant it. She still had to get out of there--she had to escape. But she needed Roone to be safe, too. He needed to be cared for. He was sick, and he needed help.
They spent some time looking at dolls. Nora picked one of the newer dolls on the luxury website, and they ordered clothes for it as well. This seemed to cheer Roone. He was tired, though, so Nora left him to sleep.
She went to the basement, sat on the bed. She held Wendy and shivered. Was Mel looking for her at all? He had to be. But did he even have anything to go on? Nora didn’t know, but if he didn’t….then she was truly stuck here forever.
The thought gave her a horrible pain, and she had a strong urge to vomit. Maybe if she could convince Roone to let her go….he loved her; he would want her to be happy….
Suddenly there was the sound of a door being thrown open. Footsteps pounded down the stairs, and Nora jumped up, bewildered.
Roone burst into the room, frenzied. “Your friends broke into my house,” he said, tossing an empty duffel bag on the bed. “I saw it on my tablet.”
Nora felt dizzy with relief. Thank god, thank god….
“What are we doing?” she asked weakly, though she had a good idea.
“We have to leave,” he said, raiding Nora’s bureau and throwing clothing haphazardly into the bag.
“And go where?”
“I have another house. But I can’t tell you….”
He was practically frantic, glancing at her every few seconds. “We’re leaving in a few minutes. Take what you want that’ll fit in the car. I’ll replace anything we leave behind.”
Nora considered arguing, insisting that it would be better to stay. But she changed her mind; there was no way Roone would keep her here, when Mel was one step closer to finding her. Roone wouldn’t take the chance.
She packed Wendy, and then they hurried down the road, walking the mile to the car. Roone was anxious, glancing around, keeping her close to him. Nora noticed his bandage was bloody, and cursed herself for not bringing the first aid kit.
They got into the car, and Roone looked at her. There was despair on his face, and he shakily extracted a syringe from his pocket.
Nora’s heart raced. “Roone.”
“I have to. We’re not ready yet--I can’t risk you knowing the way.”
“If we’re driving past a hundred feet then I won’t know the way,” she replied indignantly. “I don’t even know what country we’re in.”
“Nora, please,” he pleaded, looking pained.
She sighed, ran her hands through her hair. Goddamn.
No. Think of Mel. Just think of Mel.
She finally nodded.
Roone looked relieved. He helped Nora roll up her sleeve, and then administered the medication, a sharp sting in her arm.
“No blindfold, at least,” he said as he started the car.
Nora tried not to snort. The highlight of her day.
Barry
Them had described it as a little stone house. Unfortunately, most of the houses they passed were made of stone. And it wasn’t like they could knock on doors--Roone Harrison would feel their Presence, and, as Them had described, hurt them with his Talent.
They drove and drove, looking for houses with blue cars, until it was evening. They ended their search then, and found an inn.
Barry went out to hunt. He did a sweep of the town, too, but couldn’t find anything but a large and fluffy rabbit. He ate his fill, preened himself, and returned to the inn.
“Anything?” Michael asked when he let himself back in the room.
He shook his head, and the other two sighed. Mel was looking antsy again, grinding his teeth together
and pacing.
“We need a new plan,” he said.
“We’re close,” Michael said soothingly. “We’ll pick back up in the morning.”
“I’ll fly around,” Barry said. “Cover more ground.”
Mel didn’t look satisfied, and he stayed up late into the night, pacing.
Barry had a hard time sleeping too. He sent Gabriel a selfie, hoping to get a photo back, but there was nothing. He supposed he and Gilla were working on their case, too busy to answer the phone.
He slept fitfully, waking up every hour.
Then midnight came.
Barry, Them’s voice said. Wake up.
Barry opened his eyes. It was dark. Mel was finally asleep on the couch, and Michael was in the next bed. The fan was whirring.
Barry sat up slowly. “Hey,” he whispered.
I don’t have anything useful for you, she said gravely. I’m sorry. I tried looking. But I did see Nora try to escape.
“What?”
His hiss woke the other two, and they sat up groggily.
Michael switched on the bedside lamp. “What is it?”
“Nora tried to escape,” Barry said, and Mel swore.
“Is she okay?”
She’s okay, Them said, though there was worry in her voice. She….tried to sneak out. But the house alarm went off.
Barry frowned. They hadn’t considered an alarm system. He relayed her response, and Mel and Michael looked struck.
Them’s voice was bitter. I think he chased her then….she was running; it was hard for me to see….but I felt him use his power on her. She was on the ground, and he carried her back.
Barry let out a breath. He couldn’t tell if he was enraged or terrified. That Angel had hurt her….Nora had been hurt.
He couldn’t tell Mel and Michael.
“What is she saying?” Mel asked insistently.
Barry hesitated, and he swore. “Tell us, Barry.”
Barry ran a hand through his hair, and quietly told them what Them had said.
Mel jumped to his feet, and the room got so cold that Barry began to shiver. Thankfully, Them was shielding him again, and all he felt was some anxiety.
“She’s sure she’s okay?” Michael said, his voice hoarse.
I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have said, she whispered guiltily. I was angry.
“Is she okay?” Barry asked.
She isn’t hurt. The pain doesn’t last, I don’t think.
“He hasn’t….done anything else to her?”
Mel made a little moan, holding his head in his hands.
No, she replied, and there was pain in her voice. Not that I saw.
Barry decided not to repeat the “not that I saw” part.
I should have waited until morning. I’m sorry.
“No, we have to know,” Barry replied insistently. “Whatever it is. We have to stay ahead.”
I’m trying to stay focused. It’s difficult….I’m still only getting snippets. All I can see is that house.
Barry relayed this, and Michael’s ears seemed to perk up. “Just the house?” he asked. “No car?”
I don’t think so….Nora took the keys with her….but there wasn’t a car outside.
Michael considered this, nodding. “The car isn’t at the house. It’s somewhere else. So she won’t drive off.”
He looked at Barry. “Did you see any carports or sheds when you were flying?”
“No,” Barry replied, “but I wasn’t looking for those. I will now, when the sun’s up.”
“It can’t be far from the house,” Mel said, brushing at his tear-streaked cheeks. “He has to walk to get to it.”
“Stone house, not far, carport,” Barry said, nodding. “Got it.”
So when the sun came up, on a cloudy, chilly day, Barry transformed and took off into the sky.
There were many more sheds and garages than he had anticipated, and plenty with houses nearby. He settled for the sheds farthest away from their homes, which amounted to three. Three stone houses, in the middle of nowhere, with stone sheds around one to two kilometers away.
He returned, and just as he stepped into the room, Them’s voice was in his head again.
They’re gone!
He staggered, shocked. “What do you mean?”
Michael and Mel, who had been anxiously waiting for his return, sprang to their feet and rushed to him.
I just looked….I can barely see her; I think he gave her something….but they were in the car, she said. I think they’re going somewhere far. I had to tell you first; I’m going to try to find her now.
Barry held his head in his hands. “Fuck. They’re gone. They left.”
The devastation on Mel and Michael’s faces was too much, and he looked away, shaking.
I’m sorry, she whispered, and she sounded close to tears. I’ll find her; I promise.
He nodded, running his hands through his hair. She didn’t speak again, and he assumed she had gone.
Michael seemed to be trying to regain his composure. “Did you find anything?” he asked, as Mel sank onto the couch.
“Yeah. Three places.”
“Let’s go, then. Take a look.”
So Barry returned to his eagle form and led the way, Michael and Mel following in the car. The first two sheds had cars hiding inside.
The third was empty.
Barry flew to the house. It was two storeys, made of a gray stone, with a mossy wood roof. It was surrounded by large, rolling hills, and a couple sheep.
Barry transformed, and the three of them approached.
Michael turned to Mel. “You should say out here.”
Mel looked as if he was about to argue. But after a moment he deflated, and gave a little nod, turning away.
Barry felt a pang, and he tried tamping down his own despair at their hopeless situation. He followed Michael inside.
It was unassuming enough: a little kitchen, wallpaper, a wood table. They knew to go downstairs, and they found the little door that led to the basement. They went down, and Barry braced himself.
But the room was almost normal. The fake windows were freaky, and there was a little dollhouse, too. But everything else was innocent.
The bed wasn’t made, and Michael rifled through it, pulling the blankets and the sheets back, emptying the pillowcases. Barry followed his lead, and looked over the desk and the bookshelf.
He then went upstairs. The master bedroom had a neatly made bed, a desk, an ancient computer that Barry was sure hadn’t been used. He looked through the bed and the bureau. There were clothes left behind. He smelled cologne, and this repulsed him.
He found another bedroom with the bedclothes disturbed. He found this odd, but there was nothing else out of place.
No clues….no nothing.
“Well,” Michael murmured as they searched the kitchen. “At least there’s no blood.”
Barry frowned. “Blood?”
“Yeah,” he replied, though he seemed to mostly be speaking to himself. “On the sheets.”
Barry gagged, caught off guard, and Michael looked at him guiltily.
“Shit….sorry.”
Barry took some deep breaths, and the urge to vomit passed. “’S fine.”
He passed a hand over his sweaty brow and looked at him. “What now?”
He closed his eyes and sighed shakily. “Wait, I guess. We haven’t found shit here.”
Barry wondered if they would find anything at all.
Just then there was a creak. Barry felt another Presence, and he and Michael whirled around.
But it wasn’t a male Angel. It was a female….a little one, with tan skin and short dark hair. She was staring daggers at them, her teeth bared, with a knife in her hand.
“Agatha?” Michael breathed.
There was a pause.
Then Agatha screamed, lifting the Blade and hurling it at Michael’s head. Barry reacted, and managed to pluck the knife right out of the air. Agatha hissed at him, withdrawing an
other Blade.
Mel burst in then, looking around. He laid eyes on Agatha and stared, flabbergasted.
“What are you--?”
But the attack was on. Agatha screamed again and charged, heading straight for Michael. Barry lifted her knife, and they clashed, Blades flashing.
“Agatha, stop!” Mel cried, jumping between them.
She grabbed him by the arm and threw him to the ground, causing the floorboards to splinter. Then she was on Barry, whirling the knife at him. He parried, grabbed a fistful of her hair and dragged her down to the floor. She shrieked, and he straddled her, pinning her wrist to the floor.
He pressed his Blade to her throat. “Who are you?”
But Michael knelt beside him, grabbing his wrist. “Get off my sister.”
“She was trying to kill you,” Barry exclaimed.
“Everyone shut up,” Mel growled, standing.
They stilled, and he looked at Agatha, still pinned to the floor. “What the fuck?”
She hissed. “Don’t try to stop me, Mel.”
“Stop you from what? Killing our brother?”
She nodded firmly, and he swore. Barry expected him to ask why she would do such a thing, but was surprised with, “You’re doing this now?”
“I told you; don’t try and stop me,” she growled. “I have to do this.”
Beside them Michael lowered himself to the floor, white as a sheet.
“What do you mean, ‘have to?’” Mel breathed.
She looked at Barry, who still held his knife to her throat. “Let me up.”
Barry snorted, and she raised a dangerous eyebrow. “I don’t need a Blade to kill you, boy.”
“Barry, get up,” Mel said quickly.
The urgency in his voice was all Barry needed, and he jumped to his feet.
“Michael--both of you--get behind me,” Mel said, taking a step forward.
Michael didn’t look like he heard. Barry glanced at Agatha, who was easing into a sitting position. He grasped Michael’s shoulder, and Michael shook himself, looking troubled.
He got to his feet, and the two of them stood dutifully behind Mel’s tall frame. It was strange, hiding behind another person, but Barry understood why: Mel was unkillable, and they were not.
He studied Agatha while she got to her feet, dusting herself off. “Agatha--what are you doing?”