by J E McDonald
The grotesque scene made her insides churn and her head pound. Bile rose in the back of her throat. Aubrey turned away, took two steps, then bent in half to dry heave into the bushes.
“I told you to stay put,” Roman said, stepping out of the shack and sheathing his knife.
Hands braced on her knees, she looked up at him, unable to speak. How could he be so calm? They’d come across a dead body, and he’d had about as much reaction as if they’d come across litter left by campers. Like he saw things like this all the time. Like finding a murdered woman wasn’t a big deal.
Aubrey clutched her chest. Her breaths came out short and fast. She needed to get out of here. Blindly, she spun around and ran back the way they’d come.
“Aubrey, wait.”
She surged ahead, running from the panic attack. Running from the truth.
Those symbols on the walls…
Her brother was a devil worshiper.
He’d killed someone.
Blood on the walls.
He wanted to kill her.
He’d killed Finn.
Branches scraped her arms as she stumbled through the bushes and trees. She tried to focus on five things to calm herself: birch bark, a squirrel dodging out of her path, the leaves turning red on a bush, a fallen log, the way the light brightened the closer she got the house.
She gasped for breath. The trick wasn’t working this time. But she tried it again, focusing on four things she could hear: her footsteps, her heart beating in her ears, her ragged breaths, Roman following her.
She heard him shouting for her to stop, but she couldn’t. She had to get away from the sight she’d seen. She had to get back to her car, and the sunlight, and something familiar.
Just when she thought might have run in the wrong direction, the outline of the garage materialized through the branches of the trees. She kept running, her chest so tight, it burned. Finally, she stopped at the locked shed, bracing a hand against the rough wood—the first thing she could touch.
Now she needed two more. Movement in Roman’s truck made her head turn straight toward it. She wanted to see his dog and dig her fingers into a soft coat and allow the animal to calm her. Something to cleanse her from the evil she’d seen.
“Aubrey! Stop!” Roman shouted from behind her.
But she couldn’t. If she did, she knew she’d pass out from lack of air. Already her vision was beginning to darken. She stumbled toward the refuge a pet offered. Roman had said he was a softy. She needed a softy right now. As soon as she got to the driver’s side, she wrenched open the door.
A dog was not what she found.
The thing within was the size of a toddler, with mauve skin and big yellow eyes filling up most of its small face.
All her thoughts stuttered to a stop.
Then it spoke.
“The Orphan Karle. Yes. Pretty,” it said in a gravelly singsong voice.
Her scream came out a squeak. Aubrey spun away and barely saw Roman’s horrified face as her vision turned pitch black.
26
Roman couldn’t get to her in time to stop her fall.
He crouched down beside her in the gravel driveway, his fingers skimming her throat to check for a pulse. He found it, strong but fast. He brushed the hair away from her face. Her skin was chalky white, but she breathed in a short, steady rhythm.
Carefully, he scooped her up and turned to face his demon. “What the hell, Moe? I told you to stay out of sight.”
Moe shrank away from him, his skin darkening to a purply brown. “But that was so long ago. Yes. And Moe had no more snacks. No.” He curled into the floor, then said, “Moe made Ro angry and needs to be punished. Yes. Moe will pledge fealty, and then Ro can find a nice volcano—”
“No fealty,” Roman ground out, sitting her up on the driver’s seat of the truck. “Aubrey?” he asked, patting her cheek. Her head lolled against the back of the seat. “Aubrey?” he asked a little louder.
Still she didn’t stir. Her mind had shut itself down, and maybe she needed that. With everything they’d seen, he couldn’t blame her. The body of the woman had been there for a few days, most likely the old woman who’d owned the estate, but she’d been unrecognizable in such a state of decay.
Moe crawled off the floor to sit beside her and patted her hand. “Orphan Karle?”
“We’ll leave her to her rest,” Roman murmured, looking from his truck to her car. They couldn’t stay here. There was a chance her brother could return. He didn’t want Aubrey anywhere near the psycho.
He needed to get her somewhere safe where she could sleep it off.
The phone in her back pocket buzzed. Reaching behind her he tugged it out. A text from Stella. I can do that. Am I still meeting you at the store this morning?
It was a reply to Aubrey’s previous text: Roman’s going to spend the night tonight. Are you okay to stay at Lucas’s?
Roman hesitated for a moment before replying. This is Roman. Aubrey had a panic attack and is unavailable at the moment. After hitting send, he brushed Aubrey’s hair out of her face, felt for her pulse again. Still strong.
Stella’s reply came quick. Oh no! Where are you? I’ll come and help.
His fingers hovering over the phone’s keyboard, he thought about how best to respond. A bit out of town right now. She’s sleeping it off. I’ll take her somewhere safe.
He could take her home, leave her in her friend’s care, but after what Aubrey had just seen, they needed to talk first.
Stella’s reply came a few seconds later. Ok. I’m trying to trust you here and not freak out. Get her to call me when she’s able.
Will do. He tucked the phone into his pocket and regarded Moe who was alternating between patting her hand and sniffing her hair. They had two cars to get back to the city and only one driver. He’d trust a five-year-old to drive before he’d trust Moe.
“Grab my toolbox,” he said to Moe as he lifted Aubrey out of the seat. Cradling her in his arms, he headed to her car, then laid her out in the back seat, taking a moment to secure her into the middle seatbelt.
Setting the toolbox on the floor, Moe hopped up beside her, patting her hand with a sad expression on his face.
“Make sure she doesn’t roll or hit her head or anything, okay?” Roman said, taking her keys out of her pocket, then straightening.
The demon perked up. “Yes. This is a brave job for Moe. Protect the Orphan Karle. Yes.”
With a sigh, Roman shut the back door and opened the front one. Settling into his seat, he pulled out his phone. The beginnings of a headache pressed against his temples. He couldn’t leave his truck here, not with a dead body on the premises. Keeping the message short, he texted the church to pick up his vehicle. The crew they used to make sure a site was clean after an infestation would be able to pick up his truck without a problem. After receiving confirmation, Roman drove away from the remains of the house.
What was he supposed to do now? Aubrey had seen Moe. How was he supposed to explain any of this to her? Most days, he didn’t even know how to explain it to himself.
About half way back to town, the front window fogged. WTF!
“I was wondering when you were going to show up,” Roman muttered, then he cleared his throat to say a little louder. “Aren’t you a little young to be using such language?”
The window fogged again, and this time the words came out slower. WHAT. THE. FUCK?
Roman glanced back at Aubrey, still out cold with her head in Moe’s lap as he stroked her hair. “This isn’t what it looks like,” he said, facing forward. “She had a scare and passed out. I’m not going to hurt her.”
It was the last thing he wanted to do.
For a moment, it sounded like Aubrey was coming out of her slumber. “Out of sight,” Roman whispered, watching in the rear-view mirror as Moe shifted into his camouflage. Aubrey mumbled something and scrubbed at her face. In the next second, she exhaled a long breath, then went back to sleep. Moe resumed his place, pa
tting her on the forehead.
Another word appeared on the windshield. Demon. This word was fainter than the rest, like the ghost was having a harder time connecting to their world.
“He won’t hurt her either. I promise. I found Moe as a baby and raised him. He isn’t evil,” he said quietly, then glanced at the demon in the rear-view mirror again. “Moe, can you sense the ghost in the car?”
The skin of Moe’s forehead flattened in thought. “Ghost? Moe thinks Ro must have hit his head to be talking to himself. Yes.”
“That’s what I thought,” Roman said, focusing back on the road. He’d hoped maybe the demon would have been able to tell him when Finn was around. Now he would need to rely on the ghost making himself known. Not the best scenario. The thought of a twelve-year-old boy-ghost popping up wherever and whenever he liked was a bit unsettling.
“Finn, why don’t you be helpful and figure out where Shawn went?” After finding the woman’s body, not knowing where Aubrey’s brother was holed up put him on edge in a way not even a nest of fire demons could.
For a long time, he thought the ghost was either going to refuse or ignore him altogether, but then a faint check mark appeared in front of him.
“Thanks.” Maybe working with a ghost wasn’t a bad thing after all. Finn could go places Roman couldn’t.
The suburbs of Wickwood rose into view, and Roman took the exit to head to his rental house. He wasn’t looking forward to this talk with Aubrey. She’d seen too much, and he dreaded her reaction to Moe once she had her wits about her.
And as soon as his truck was off the property, he needed to notify Agent Martinez of the body in the woods.
27
A skittering noise made Aubrey flinch. She curled into herself, her head aching, then froze. Where was she? Opening her eyes, she scanned her surroundings, not recognizing the room.
Someone had put her in a bed, taken her shoes off, and placed a thick duvet over her. She tensed. Why was she in someone else’s bed? The sheets smelled good, like fabric softener and something familiar. She turned her face into the pillow and inhaled deep. A familiar woodsy scent filled her head, mixed with something unmistakably male. Roman. Some of the tension left her shoulders.
That same skittering noise made Aubrey sit up fast, searching the room for it.
“The Orphan Karle is awake now. Yes,” a little voice whispered from beside the bed.
Aubrey stiffened, fear shooting through her as she clenched the duvet tight in her fists.
Two big eyes poked over the edge of the bed, the same two yellow eyes she’d seen in Roman’s truck. She yelped, scrambling backward until she stood on the mattress, the wall against her spine.
The thing yelped too and tumbled away. Not just to the wall, but up it. Like a spider, its skinny legs and arms defied gravity. Tickity, tick, tick. It was shaped like a small, bony child, and its mauve colored skin shifted to a darker purple. Sharp claws dug into the ceiling, making a fine white dust fall. Tiny fangs protruded above its bottom lip.
A scream tore from her dry throat.
Heavy footsteps came down the hallway, fast. Roman threw the door open a moment later. He looked at her standing on the bed, then at the thing clinging to the corner of the ceiling.
“Moe! I told you to leave her alone,” he said, voice stern as he stepped inside the room.
It dropped to the floor with a quiet thud, then skittered its way behind Roman, its posture slumped, knees tucked into its armpits. “Moe is sorry. Yes. Sorry to make Ro so angry.”
Roman let out a slow breath. “I’m not angry, just—” He stopped speaking and met her eyes for a moment before returning his attention to the thing clutching his leg. “I made some snacks. They’re on the kitchen table.”
With a squeal that could only be described as delighted, the little being skittered itself out of the room.
Aubrey stayed where she was, heart rate slowly lowering. The exchange between the two had seemed so normal for them, like they conversed on a regular basis. Roman’s calm stabilized her emotions, chasing away her fear.
“What is it?” she asked, her legs collapsing beneath her until she sat on the pillows at the top of the bed.
“A demon,” he said simply. “One who’s never lived with, or been corrupted by, other demons. His soul is bright.”
His words took long seconds to settle in her mind. A demon. How was that even possible? But she’d seen him with her own eyes. “What’s he doing here?”
“That’s a long story,” he said, moving back to the door. “I’ll explain things over coffee. The bathroom’s down the hall.” Then he hesitated. “Are you okay right now?” He waved a hand at the ceiling where the demon once hung, then at the door when he’d gone.
Aubrey’s heart rate lowered to steady rhythm. Maybe it was because of Roman’s solid presence and calm, but she wasn’t panicking. The sight of the demon definitely freaked her out, but she remained in control of her emotions. “I’m okay.”
He nodded once, then stepped into the hallway. “You might want to call Stella before she sends her boyfriend out with a search party.” The door shut with a soft click.
What time was it? She searched for a clock and found one beside the bed. Ten o’clock. “Shit.” She jumped up to stand on legs that still shook. Stella was supposed to meet her at the store at nine. Her phone lay beside the clock, and she snatched it up.
She saw the message Roman had sent, then the twenty more he hadn’t responded to as Stella kept asking her to call with increasing urgency.
Aubrey hit the green icon and held the phone to her ear.
Stella answered on the first ring. “If I don’t hear Aubrey’s voice I’m going to hunt you down.”
“It’s me. I’m fine.”
“Oh my God, Aubrey.” Relief poured through her words. “I was starting to think the worst. It’s been hours.”
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“What happened?”
Aubrey thought of all she’d seen at the estate house, the fire, the shack in the woods and the dead body they’d found. She closed her eyes, trying to erase the image, but it just made it clearer. Swallowing, she opened her eyes to stare at the corner of the ceiling. “I had a panic attack and passed out. Roman took me to his place to sleep it off. I just woke up.” And the demon who’d greeted her now ate snacks in the kitchen.
“That doesn’t explain what sent you into a panic in the first place.”
“No,” she agreed, moving to the dresser beside the bed. A comb, some coins, and a travel magazine littered the top. “But I don’t think I can talk about that right now.” She didn’t have the brain space for it. Already, her chest tightened from the memories alone. They’d need to report the body to the police. “I wanted to let you know that I’m okay and won’t be going into the store this morning.” Maybe not at all, but that remained to be seen.
She picked up the magazine, noting it focused on European countries near the Baltic sea.
“Do you still want me to spend the night at Lucas’s?” Stella asked after a moment of quiet on her end.
“Yeah, I think so. With everything with Finn, I don’t think Roman wants to be far.”
Aubrey heard movement on the other end of the line, then Stella said, “I’ll call you later to check in, okay?”
Usually Stella would text, but with everything, Aubrey liked the idea of her friend calling her. “Yeah. Sounds good.”
Setting the magazine down, she ended the call and slid the phone in her back pocket before setting out to find the bathroom.
The first door she opened was another bedroom. A massive dog bed sat on the floor by the wall, the double bed across from it neatly made. Aubrey stepped inside, scanning the basic room. A stack of board books leaned precariously against the wall, some already tipped over. Walking closer, she read the titles: Cat and Mouse, One Pair Two Pair, Not All Families Are The Same.
Her heart skipped a beat. Something stuck out of the bottom of the open closet
door and she crouched to see better. A rumpled-up blanket lay next to a well-used teddy bear, its ears gnawed off.
Feeling guilty for snooping, Aubrey left the room and found the bathroom one door down. After finishing up there, the scent of coffee and toast led her toward the kitchen. Her stomach growled. Having woken up so early this morning, she hadn’t had breakfast before heading out.
The sight of the demon at the kitchen table made her freeze in the doorway. Balancing on the edge of his chair, the mauve little being piled inch-thick jam onto a piece of toast.
Roman stood at the counter, his back to her. He wasn’t wearing his gloves, and his jacket hung on the back of one of the chairs, along with the holster for his knives. He wore a black sweater rolled up to his elbows, revealing an angry looking scar on his wrist, pink and mottled.
“The Orphan Karle is up now. Yes,” the demon said when he saw her standing there. Then he opened his jaw wide enough to shove the whole piece of toast in his mouth in one bite.
She gasped at the sight, and Roman spun toward her. Gaze riveted to the demon, she watched as a long tongue snaked out to swipe the remaining jam off his face. Then he lifted the jar. His impossibly long tongue swiped inside, cleaning it out in one swoop.
Aubrey’s stomach rolled.
“The Orphan Karle is hungry? Yes?” he asked, holding out the empty jar, then frowned at it like he didn’t realize it was empty. He set it on the table and grabbed a massive jar of peanut butter. He held it out to her.
She shook her head. “Why do you keep calling me that?”
“The prophecy—”
“Moe,” Roman said sharply, cutting him off.
Moe dropped the jar on the table and made himself small.
Looked like the demon enjoyed being yelled at about as much as she did. She swallowed. “Prophecy?” Her eyes went to the man on the other side of the room.