XGeneration (Book 5): Cry Little Sister

by Brad Magnarella

“No, I … I think that’s blood, Scott.”

  The dogs’ blood was then drained into some kind of receptacle, Chief McDermott had told the crowd.

  Scott searched around, the blood scent turning slimy in his mouth. “We need to collect a vial, bring it to the police, figure out where it came from. How are we fixed for time?”

  Behind him, Scott felt Janis stiffen. “Oh, no. I must have lost my fix on them when the dog attacked. David and the others aren’t in Murder World anymore.”

  She stopped to listen. Scott held his breath to do the same.

  At first he heard nothing. But before he could inhale, a distant grumble grew into his awareness, like thunder. Only it was a steady thunder, without end. And it was rolling nearer.

  “Out the way we came in,” he said, clasping Janis’s hand.

  He led her up the stairs, set a foot into the library, and stopped cold. The dog was wavering on its long legs and blinking slowly. Pink threads of drool swung from its mouth as it turned toward him. The dog’s eyes sharpened, bringing Scott into focus. Barks exploded from its mouth.

  “Back! Back!” Scott retreated into the garage and yanked the door closed. The dog landed hard against the other side.

  “We don’t seem to have a great history with dogs, do we?” Janis said.

  “Yeah, and I didn’t have time to get off a shot. Forgot our friend was up there, actually. Can you strike it through the door?”

  “Its brain’s still weak from the last blast,” Janis said. “If I hit it again, it could suffer permanent damage, or worse. And it’s not the dog’s fault. It’s just protecting their home. Maybe I can…”

  Outside, the thundering of motorcycles jumped in volume. Scott knew what that meant. They had cleared the sound-dampening effect of the trees and were bearing down on the house.

  “All right,” Scott said, quickly forming a plan. “They don’t park their bikes in here, there’s no space, so we wait until we know they’re in the house and we lift the door by hand, slip out. The garage is on the same side as the gazebo. We’ll make a line through the trees for our bikes.”

  “And I’ll blur us until we’re out of sight,” she said.

  “Perfect. They’ll never know we were here.”

  By the thin light of Scott’s beam, he and Janis picked their way across the garage floor. The thunder outside resolved into the chopping of four mufflers. Scott pictured David and the others pulling up in front of the house, kicking down their stands with the heels of their black boots.

  One by one, the motorcycles cut off.

  Scott ran his beam along the bottom of the garage door until they lit up a pair of door handles, five feet apart. Janis crouched at one and he at the other. His fingers embraced cold, gritty metal.

  Outside, snatches of voices rose into Scott’s hearing.

  “ … like the run last weekend…”

  “ … the last two…”

  “ … about four or five miles…”

  Due to the door’s thickness, Scott couldn’t tell who was saying what. Not that it made much sense, anyway. He was listening more to determine in which direction they were moving.

  They’re heading toward the front steps, Janis informed him.

  Good, Scott thought back. As soon as the front door opens and closes, we go for it.

  The voices receded, and Scott thought he heard the faint clop of boots ascending the steps. The sound of the opening front door came through the house rather than the garage door. Voices filled the space. At the top of the garage steps, beyond the door Scott and Janis had entered by, a high-pitched yelp sounded followed by the fading skitter of nails over parquet wood.

  Crap, Scott thought.

  “Thistle?” David said. Scott heard Thistle’s long tail beating against the floor. “Which one of you numbskulls let her out?”

  A heavy silence descended in the house.

  Now? Janis thought-spoke.

  The front door’s still open, Scott replied.

  Yeah, but they’re figuring it out. They’ll be in here any second.

  Scott adjusted his slick grip on the door handle. All right … now!

  They grunted into their lift. Scott felt something crack in his low back, flashing pain down the backs of his legs. The garage door hadn’t budged. He ran his beam around it until he saw the problem. The door’s joints and the seams between the panels had been caulked with cement. Someone had fixed it so that the only way in or out was through the house.

  Better to guard their precious blood by, Scott thought.

  He was about to inform Janis of the situation when a knock sounded on the door at the top of the stairs, followed by David’s singsong voice.

  “Hello, hello, whoever you are…”

  Don’t say anything, Scott thought.

  Yeah, like I was going to discuss the legal merits of Marbury versus Madison with him, she thought back.

  “I assume you’ve discovered the immobile state of the garage door,” David called. “I hope you didn’t injure yourself trying to lift it.”

  Scott moved a hand to the smoldering spot in his low back as he straightened. But his back was the least of his worries right now. He sidled over until he was shoulder to shoulder with Janis.

  “The situation as it stands, my dear friend or friends,” David went on, “is that you are trapped. There are a few ways we might handle this. The first is that I keep you where you are and contact law enforcement. I have you on trespassing and breaking and entering. If you’re armed, I could claim intent to commit murder, as well. That would spell prison time, my friends.”

  Though Scott held his beam steady on the door David spoke through, he felt his joints threatening to unhinge. If only he had listened to Janis; if only he hadn’t insisted on dallying in the house…

  He’s bluffing, Janis said in his thoughts. He wouldn’t want the police anywhere near here. Think about it.

  Of course, Scott thought. The blood-filled vats.

  “I’d rather not consort with law enforcement, if it can be helped,” David said, as though sensing their train of thought. “They seem to cause more problems around here than they solve.”

  Scott exhaled in relief.

  “But while you may be off their hook, you remain securely on mine. I’m not sure that improves your station.” Scott heard a rise of laughter from the others. “You violated our domicile. By the staggering looks of her, you assaulted our dog. And now you have seen things you weren’t meant to. That narrows our options considerably. I either have to convince you not to speak of what you’ve found here, or I have to make you unsee what you’ve already seen.”

  Scott didn’t like the sound of either option, frankly, especially the second. Unfortunately, it was the option David seemed to have in mind.

  “Did you know that, under state law, I have every right to kill an intruder in my home?”

  “You threatened us first,” Scott called back.

  Janis looked up at him. What happened to not talking?

  “Is that Scott Spruel?” David asked. Whether the surprise in his voice was authentic or affected, Scott couldn’t tell. “And can I assume Miss Graystone is with you? How delightful.”

  “Let us go,” Scott said. “We’ll call it a wash.”

  When David laughed, Scott pictured his Polident-white fangs glistening with saliva. “A wash implies equivalency, young Scott. You can never prove I threatened you. Not beyond a reasonable doubt. It would be your word against ours. The proof of your break-in, on the other hand, is everywhere. ‘You see, Officer,’” David said, speaking with false innocence. “‘I opened the garage door, and there they were, rushing toward me. Thank God, I was carrying my trusty Smith and Wesson.’” He paused. “Before it comes to that, though, I have to know. What did you hope to find here?”

  The stolen things, Janis urged him. Tell him the stolen things from your house.

  Scott knew that was the prudent answer. Then he could confess that, nope, they hadn’t found anything. You
were telling the truth all along. And by the way, whatever we weren’t supposed to have seen? We don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about.

  Maybe that would spare them.

  But David’s arrogant, taunting voice was reacting with something deep in Scott’s gut. The hot, bubbling product was anger, and it shoved all prudence aside.

  “What did I hope to find?” Scott asked. “Exactly what we found, you freaking vampire!”

  “Tsk, tsk. That kind of talk just makes our situation all the more irreconcilable.”

  “Put up or shut up,” Scott said.

  There was a moment of unnerving silence during which Scott’s heartbeats filled his head.

  The knob began to turn.

  Scott focused into the near end of his laser beam, relishing the thought of blasting the creep. But in the next moment, a scraping sounded. A solid metal utility case that had been standing against the near wall screamed as it skidded toward the door, exploding through the wooden staircase.

  Beside Scott, Janis rotated her arm. The case, which was under her power, tottered back, then fell at an angle against the top of the doorframe just as the door opened.

  “Christ!” David exclaimed.

  Thistle let out a sharp bark, no less surprised.

  Janis wheeled toward the cemented garage door. “Shall we?”

  Scott said, “Yeah, probably that time.”

  He watched the skin bunch up over her brow. The garage door trembled. Joints groaned and cement began popping out like buck shot. Without warning, the garage door thundered into the space overhead. A blast of daylight sent needles through Scott’s pupils. He and Janis grasped for the other’s hand. Panels falling to the floor around them, they stumbled outside.

  “What’s your hurry?” someone asked.

  Paulo Ruthaven stood in the driveway, blocking their escape. He was aiming a sawed-off shotgun from his waistline. Wind picked at his shag of dark hair as he flashed a fanged smile.

  Duane Arnaud strode up beside him, an identical gun leaning against his shoulder. “Yeah,” he said, “thought you’d at least stay for lunch. We picked up Chinese.”

  Scott turned back to Paulo. With a thought, he released his blast. It pulsed the length of the laser, landing just below Paulo’s chest. The manner in which he was vaulted backward made it look as if the landscape had suddenly tilted vertically and he was simply abiding gravity. Paulo’s arms, legs, and the tails of his black duster coat trailed behind him. A look of dumb surprise possessed his face as he crashed into the woods.

  Scott swung the laser toward Duane, who had already dropped the sawed-off barrels to his free hand.

  Scott looped his arm to get Janis behind him. No time to get off another—

  The shotgun discharged like a small explosion. Scott threw his bandaged arm to his face, waiting for the agonizing fire of hundreds of pellets.

  Instead, Duane began to scream.

  Scott squinted his eyes open to find the shotgun in two pieces at Duane’s boots, hot gas billowing from the receiver end of the open barrels. Duane continued to scream, hands mashed to his face. It was only when Scott saw the flecks of blood in his sandy brown hair that he understood.

  Janis had jammed the shotgun. The blast had backfired.

  “C’mon,” his girlfriend cried, already sprinting down the driveway.

  Scott raced to catch up with her. He was about to ask about their bikes when the red cruisers came rattling down the path from the gazebo. It was often these simple demonstrations of her powers that most impressed him. The bikes bounced alongside them. Without breaking stride, Janis seized the handlebars of the lead bike and leaped onto the seat. Scott half expected her to cry, “Hi-ho Silver!” When he tried to pull a Tonto on his own bike, he almost fell over.

  They pumped from the driveway and out onto the wider road, Janis’s ponytail streaming behind her.

  “You think they’ll follow?” Scott asked.

  A motorcycle engine coughed and started up. Then a second.

  Janis raised her eyebrows.

  “Yeah, never mind.”

  They stood and sprinted against their pedals, tires cutting hard against the damp asphalt. A few hundred yards ahead, the tunnel of oak trees opened onto the county road they’d arrived by. Scott thought that once they reached the trafficked road, they would be safe.

  But would they reach it?

  He peeked over a shoulder just as David Dacula and Markus Lester rip-roared from their driveway. Already gasping for air, Scott gauged the distance. Those two would be even with them in half a minute.

  Scott searched around until he spotted something promising. Coming up on their left, a dying oak tree leaned over the road. Aiming his laser at the tree’s base, Scott began to focus. A point in his mind’s eye swelled, transforming from red to orange. When it verged on white, Scott released his energy at the laser’s near end. The pulse slammed into the tree’s trunk. Shards of bark rained across the road.

  As Scott and Janis raced beneath its shadow, the tree groaned from its core. Something snapped. The tree seemed to take a lurching step toward the road. But it wouldn’t topple.

  David and Markus halved the distance.

  C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…

  The tree groaned again, only now Scott could hear the tearing and popping of its root system. Hope swelled inside him. David and Markus must have heard the sounds, too. Their heads performed a simultaneous swivel toward the failing oak. Their reactions were different, though. While Markus eased off his throttle, David raced ahead, lips pulling from his razor-sharp teeth.

  A final crack sounded.

  David looked up as the tree toppled, an oh crap surprising his pale face. He and his bike disappeared beneath a bough of bursting brown leaves. The rest of the tree crashed to the road in front of him.

  “Yes!” Scott cried, pumping a fist. He caught up to Janis, who had pulled ahead. “Wait, did you help with that?”

  She peeked over and made a C with her thumb and first finger. “Only about that much.”

  Scott laughed over his handlebars. The timing had seemed a little too perfect.

  “We’re a helluva team,” he said.

  “The best.”

  At the head of Cemetery Road, they slowed and looked back. A hundred yards behind them, the road ended at the fallen tree. Scott picked out the puttering sound of a lone motorcycle, but it wasn’t going anywhere.

  “Ready for a climb?” he asked Janis, nodding toward the hill to their left.

  “As your dad would say, last one to the top’s a…”

  But that’s as far as she got. Behind them, the motorcycle engine revved up. Scott spun around to find Markus emerging from the woods. He had picked his way around the toppled tree and was now back on asphalt, his patchwork jacket flashing beneath a billowing coat.

  From the county road, a pickup truck approached. Scott dropped his bike and began waving both arms overhead.

  “He’s not going to stop,” Janis said.

  Scott frowned. Her impressions were usually spot on. “Can you, I don’t know, persuade him?” he asked.

  “That’s my sister’s ability, not mine. And I’m not going to arrest a truck going fifty miles an hour. We’ve exposed our powers to the outside enough for one day, don’t you think?”

  Markus was still approaching, but he had eased up on the throttle, perhaps waiting to see what the truck Scott was trying to flag would do.

  “Quick,” Scott said. “Hop off your bike.”

  Janis gave him a questioning look but complied. Scott focused his laser on the bike’s front wheel hub and blew it out. Janis caught on to what he was doing. She held her knee and staggered as if she had been injured.

  As the truck drew nearer, Scott held up the bike’s front tire and pointed to Janis.

  The truck blasted past. A second later, its brake lights lit up.

  “You go first,” Scott told her.

  As Janis fake-hobbled toward the truck, Scott t
hreaded an arm through the frame of the broken bike and pushed the other one alongside him. At the pickup, an old man’s thumb appeared from the driver’s side window and jabbed toward the empty truck bed.

  “Thanks, Mister,” Scott called.

  He lifted the bikes into the bed, helped Janis up, then climbed in after her. As the truck started up the hill, Scott and Janis sat against the cab’s back window. Markus had stopped at the head of Cemetery Road, near enough for Scott to make out the pear-sized goiter bobbing above his jacket collar.

  “Something tells me this isn’t the last time we’ll be seeing them,” Janis said.

  As Markus’s staring figure dwindled, Scott swallowed.

  He had no doubt she was right.

  12

  They slept in shifts that night, changing out every two hours. Janis had taken the ten to midnight and was now finishing up her two to four on the upper deck. Scott had been planning to stay up all night without telling her (he felt responsible for getting them caught at the “vampire” house), but Janis had picked up on the thought and wouldn’t allow it. He needed his rest, too.

  Besides, her abilities were better suited to home security than his.

  At that moment, something crept into the psychic perimeter she had set up around the house. Her blanket dropped from her shoulders as she rose to her feet. She honed in on the disturbance.

  Oh. She relaxed. Another raccoon.

  Janis gave the critter a telekinetic tug of its tail. A trashcan lid crashed like a cymbal near the garage as the raccoon bounded off. On the porch swing, J.R. raised his head. Janis returned to her spot beside him and scratched behind his ears. She thought of the horrible sound he had made—like a scream—when she and Scott had been in the police station talking to Chief McDermott.

  “Don’t worry,” she murmured, “we won’t let those creeps near you again.”

  J.R. watched her with large eyes. He licked his muzzle, contented, and set his chin back between his paws.

  Janis revisited that night in her mind. Bursting out into the mist to find J.R. a whimpering mess. David and the others zooming past on their motorcycles moments later.

  But something seemed off. Why hadn’t J.R. reacted in the same way when they threatened him behind the hobby store? He had been nervous, sure, but it wasn’t like he’d screamed and peed all over the pavement.