Descendant

by S. M. Gaither

  “Why is everyone giving me an attitude this morning?” I demanded of him.

  He cowered a bit at the sound of my voice, and his tail drooped in a way that just made me feel worse about it all. I patted him on the head, apologizing. He sank deeper into his cowering stance.

  Biting my lip to stave off a deep frown, I backed away and continued on my path. I reached my beloved old-piece-of-crap Honda Civic and threw the door open. The keys were in the ignition before I even rested completely in the seat. I pushed in the clutch, turned the key and waited for the engine to stutter to life. Then I jerked it into reverse and practically flew out of the driveway, spinning up the gravel as I went.

  * * *

  Few things cleared my mind like driving did. So I drove as slowly as possible—a rarity for me.

  But I still reached the store in less than fifteen minutes.

  Gotta love small towns.

  Going out in public was awkward these days. I guess I just wasn’t expecting everybody to treat me like I had some kind of disease just because my dad died. It was kind of annoying really, the way they avoided eye contact, or smiled awkwardly at me if they couldn’t do that in time. And once I passed them, I could feel their eyes following me until I turned around—at which point they would suddenly become ridiculously fascinated by the floor or some other random thing.

  I wasn’t in any hurry to get back home, but I wasn’t in the mood to be gawked at either, so I got in and out of the store quickly.

  It was the instant I stepped through the automatic exit doors that I noticed the young woman.

  I probably would’ve walked right by her, except this particular woman actually looked up and made—and held—eye contact with me. This was so strange, so foreign to me at this point that I had a hard time looking away. And it was so distracting that I tripped as I stepped off the sidewalk and into the parking lot, causing some of my groceries to topple out of their bags. I hastily bent to pick them up.

  The woman just kept staring.

  I finished shoving the fallen groceries back into their bags and hurried to my car, popped the trunk and started flinging stuff in.

  Out of the corner of my eye I saw her walking toward me.

  Her pace was quick, and within seconds she was standing uncomfortably close. I slammed the trunk and spun away, only to somehow find myself face to face with her.

  “I need you to come with me,” she said. “Quietly. Okay, Alexandra?” I tensed as she placed a hand on my arm. “I don’t want to hurt you—I just need to talk to you.”

  I tried to jerk my arm out of her grasp, but she held on like her fingers were covered in superglue. “I’m not going anywhere with you,” I said, after about my fifth unsuccessful attempt to break free.

  The woman smiled through pursed lips. “You’re wrong about that. This is going to be a long talk; it would be kind of silly for us to just stand in the middle of this parking lot, wouldn’t you agree?”

  “I —”

  “I didn’t mean to startle you,” she continued, her grip tightening. “I just didn’t want you to get away.”

  “I’m afraid I don’t really have time to talk.” I was starting to panic. “I should be getting home.”

  “Why don’t we grab some lunch, hm?” she suggested, acting like she hadn’t heard me. She peered over my shoulder and, with the hand that wasn’t cutting off the circulation in my arm, she pointed toward Michelangelo’s— a tiny Italian restaurant on the other end of the shopping center.

  “I’ve heard that place is good,” she said.

  “I’m sure you will enjoy it,” I said as I attempted to pry her fingers off my arm. “And by ‘you’ I mean just that—as in you go enjoy it by. Your. Self. Now let me go!”

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that. I have too much to tell you.” Her grip loosened slightly. “Although, I’m not trying to kidnap you or anything…” A torn look crossed her face. “If I let you go, will you please just sit and talk with me?”

  I ran over the possibilities in my mind. Sized up the situation. Sized up her. She wasn’t much bigger than me, but she was definitely a lot more muscular. I probably wasn’t going to able to get away by myself, and I really didn’t want to scream for help— I had enough people gawking at me already.

  I sighed. “If I sit and talk with you, will you leave me alone after that?”

  “If you want me too, then yes,” she said with a careful nod.

  I cast one last defeated look at my car. “Fine.” I wrenched my arm out of her grasp. “Shall we?”

  She nodded, and together we walked the short distance to the restaurant. I let my eyes linger on her as we sat down at one of the umbrella-shaded tables outside the venue.

  And then I suddenly realized that this young woman, with her long, straight black hair, was familiar.

  I ended up staring at her for a long time, trying to place her face. She didn’t seem to mind. I had a feeling she was probably use to people staring, because there was no denying that she was incredibly beautiful. There was something captivating about her wide, dark blue eyes, and those thin lips that formed an understated smile. Her olive-toned skin was flawless. She was flawless—one of those people who made you wish you’d spent a little more time getting ready before you’d left the house.

  “Who are you?” I asked, mostly to interrupt my own staring.

  “My name is Serafina Blake,” she said, extending her hand to me. “But please, you just call me Sera, and I’ll just call you Alex, if I may? No need for formalities.”

  I shook her hand hesitantly, still trying to place her face as she continued.

  “I was a close friend of your father’s. I was so sorry to hear about his passing.”

  That’s who she was.

  “You were at his funeral, weren’t you?” I knew the answer before I even asked the question. How could I have forgotten her? The way she’d stood that day, completely still—like a corpse herself, and the way her eyes had followed me to the car…

  “Yes. I was there,” Sera replied, frowning. She seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden, and all too ready to be distracted by the waiter who chose that moment to come take our drink orders.

  “Why have I never seen you before?” I said as the waiter walked away. “I mean, if you and my father were such good friends?”

  “How about I explain that after we order some lunch? I don’t know about you, but I’m starving,” she said, her smile returning as she reached into her purse and pulled out a pair of thin-rimmed black glasses. She slid them on and picked up her menu.

  I didn’t touch mine.

  “Is the lasagna good here?” she asked after a few minutes of browsing.

  “I don’t know. I don’t like lasagna.”

  She lowered the menu and peered at me over the rims of her glasses. “Aren’t you going to eat?” she asked. “C’mon—it’s my treat.”

  “I’m not hungry,” I lied. Actually, I was starving. But I didn’t want to be distracted by food just then. I only wanted to hear what this strange woman had to say, and then I wanted to get as far away from her as possible.

  “Relax, Alex. I just want to talk, okay?” she said, reaching her hand across the table and laying it across mine. I jerked my hand from under her touch and pulled my other arm out of her reach.

  She didn’t acknowledge my jumpiness, maybe because at that moment the waiter returned with our drinks and to take our orders.

  Sera placed her order while I slumped back in my chair and folded my arms across my chest. Then she clasped her hands together and placed them on the table in front of her, and we commenced a long, awkward moment of silence, in which I stared at her expectantly and she stared amiably off into space, like she’d forgotten I was even sitting there.

  “Well?” I finally said.

  Sera had been busy studying her nails by this point, but when I spoke, she lifted her head up and smiled. “You’re rather impatient, aren’t you?”

  “I wouldn’t describe myself
as patient.”

  She drummed her fingertips across the table. “But with so much to tell, I wonder where to begin?”

  “Maybe you should’ve planned this whole kidnapping me thing out a little better?” I deadpanned.

  Her smile faltered slightly. “Perhaps you’re right. And perhaps that’s where I’ll start—by reminding you that I’m not kidnapping you. In fact, I’m trying to do quite the opposite. I’m trying to protect you.”

  “Protect me?”

  “These are…unsafe times for you, Alex. And for your family. But especially for you.”

  “Why my family?” An uneasy shiver slid up my spine. “Who’s threatening my family?”

  It was my greatest fear—that something might happen to what was left of my family, and then that would be it for me. After losing Dad, I was barely hanging on as it was.

  Sera’s eyes shifted to a couple sitting a few tables away, who were now staring curiously in our direction. “You need to keep your voice down,” she said, her words suddenly tense.

  “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “And you don’t need to worry about your family, anyway. I—and several others—have been keeping a close watch over your household since…”

  “Since…?”

  She hesitated and took a deep breath. “Since we failed to protect your father.”

  It took a few seconds for the words to sink in.

  “My father?” I shook my head. “What are you talking about? My father drowned. He was alone. What could you possibly—”

  “He didn’t drown, Alex.”

  “Liar.” I said it—practically yelled it—without even thinking. Several heads turned our direction, but I didn’t care about being quiet anymore.

  “Look, Alex: I didn’t want to be the one to tell you all this, but you have to understand. The danger is very real, and you need to know what’s going on. Or at least know enough to keep yourself safe.” Her voice was urgent, but she still looked calm—which was a lot more than I could say for myself.

  Our waiter returned and sat Sera’s food in front of her. She smiled and thanked him, but didn’t touch the food even after he left; instead, she reached into her purse and took out an envelope, from which she pulled several photographs. She laid them in a row across the table.

  “I know him,” I said, placing my finger on a photograph of a dark haired guy with light blue eyes.

  He was looking at the camera with a disgruntled look that clearly said ‘I don’t want to have my picture taken’.

  “Or, at least, we’ve met… briefly.” The guy in the picture was Kael— if I remembered his name correctly—one of the people who’d saved me in my nightmare.

  It was getting harder and harder to pretend that those moments by the lake actually were part of a nightmare.

  “You’ve met?” Sera’s voice sounded anxious and her eyes grew wide. “And the others…?”

  “Um, I’ve met her,” I said, pointing to a picture of a pale blonde girl. “I think her name was Vanessa?”

  “Yes,” Sera confirmed in a voice devoid of emotion. “Vanessa Lindstrom.”

  I studied the remaining pictures, almost all of which had one thing in common: except for the one of Kael, none of the people in the other pictures seemed to be aware they were having their picture taken. They all appeared to have been taken from a distance, or from odd angles, and none of the subjects were looking at the camera. Most of them were of people I didn’t recognize, until I came to one of a darker-skinned young man. He was wearing a lopsided grin and talking to someone who had their back to the camera.

  “This one,” I said as I pointed to the picture. “We’ve met.”

  “William Rodriquez,” Sera said, a hint of what sounded like malice in her voice.

  “Right—Will.”

  “Any of the others?” she asked.

  I gave the photographs one more glance-over and then shook my head. “No, just those three,” I said. “Why do you have these pictures? And why does it look like you were creepily stalking them to take them? Who are these people?”

  “These people…” She looked like she was carefully searching for the right words. “These people are the reason that you and your family need protecting. And they are a threat that needs to be eliminated.”

  “Eliminated?”

  Suddenly the situation seemed a lot more serious.

  “You say you’ve met these three?” Sera asked, pulling the photographs of Kael, Will, and Vanessa out of the row and displaying them like we were playing a hand of poker. I nodded, and she leaned back in her chair, shaking her head. “You’re lucky to be alive, then.”

  “What are you talking about?” I asked. “They’re the reason I’m alive.”

  Sera looked at me curiously.

  I picked at my folded napkin. I could feel her gaze pressing down on me, and I don’t know why I kept my mouth shut—it didn’t really make sense; all morning long I’d wanted to talk to someone about what had happened at the lake. Someone who wouldn’t think I was crazy if I told them I wasn’t entirely sure it was only a nightmare.

  Sera seemed like a perfect candidate to be that someone. She seemed to know a lot, and she seemed genuinely concerned about my well-being.

  But for some reason, I didn’t want to talk to her.

  “The reason you’re alive…” Sera repeated. “I don’t know what you mean by that.” She paused, as if to consider, but then shook her head. “But I don’t believe it, regardless. Please don’t let yourself be fooled, Alex—they may have acted otherwise to gain your trust, but I promise you these people would like nothing better than to see you dead.”

  My throat was unbearably dry all of a sudden. I started to reach for my glass of water, but changed my mind. “I have to go,” I said, standing up quickly and forcing my chair to scrape hard along the cement.

  “Okay,” Sera said.

  I was taken-aback by her willingness to just let me leave, but I didn’t let that slow me down. I grabbed my purse and shoved my chair in. As I turned to leave, I felt her hand on my arm. I turned back to her and she handed me a small slip of paper, on which she’d scribbled her name and a phone number.

  “If you need anything—anything at all—just give me a call, okay? I won’t be far away.”

  I took the paper and nodded hesitantly. Then I shook her grip off my arm, turned and walked as quickly as I could back to my car.

  I drove along the curvy back-roads that led to my house, trying to focus on those roads but mostly focusing on how nothing in my life made sense anymore.

  It hadn’t been a nightmare after all. Disturbing as that was, I could get my mind to admit to that much. But that was where my certainties ended.

  Those people had saved me at the lake.

  Saved me.

  Pretty sure people who wanted you dead generally didn’t save your life, right? So there was no way Sera could be right about them.

  And yet, Sera was the only one who had taken the time to explain anything to me—and she hadn’t abandoned my passed out self on my front porch without telling me anything. She hadn’t framed me, or gotten me grounded for possibly the rest of my life in an attempt to cover her own tracks, and that gave her some credibility in my book.

  As I drove along trying to sort these things out, I couldn’t help but notice the car behind me—some kind of black Toyota. A Camry, maybe. It was kind of hard to ignore, considering it was eating my bumper.

  I tried to be patient with them at first; I rolled down my window and waved for them to pass me, but they didn’t seem to get the picture. So I sped up.

  They did the same.

  I slowed down.

  They did the same.

  I glared into my review mirror, cursing under my breath. Mom was always getting on to me about my road rage. And my sleep-deprived rage. And my hangry rage. And about all kinds of rage, really; I had some minor anger issues—I’d be the first to admit that.

  But seriously?

  Why t
he hell did this guy need to be so close to me?

  I tried to wave him around me again, but he just flashed his bright lights at me in response.

  Jerk.

  I sighed and gripped the steering wheel tighter. The Toyota was so close now that I couldn’t even see its front bumper. Its windows on either side were tinted, and the driver had the sun visor down, casting shadows over his face.

  The car followed me all the way to Bryant Street, and it nearly rear-ended me as I slowed down to turn into our driveway. As soon as I was out of its way, it revved its engine and shot off like a bullet down the road.

  “Sorry about whatever it is you’re overcompensating for,” I muttered as I slowed down, watching it until it disappeared.

  When I pulled up to the house, still mumbling about the Toyota, the first person I saw was my mom. She was sitting in the front porch swing, reading a book that she sat down as soon as I stepped out of the car.

  “It’s about time you got back, Alex. Where did you go?”

  “I got caught up.”

  “Doing what?”

  “Talking to somebody,” I replied as I went to retrieve the groceries from the trunk.

  “Talking to who?”

  I didn’t answer.

  Because I’d become distracted by the gravel dust being thrown up by the black car coming down our driveway.

  “Alex? Who is—oh.” My mom’s voice broke off as the sound of the car’s door slammed. I turned my attention back to the black Toyota, and then to the guy who had just stepped out of it.

  My mouth dropped open in disbelief.

  “Kael?” I said in a quiet, unsure voice. Our eyes met for a fraction of a second, and then he looked away.

  “You again?” my mom asked.

  I shot a confused look at her.

  But then a sudden realization came to mind: This guy—this violent, gun-wielding guy from the lake—was the one who had come by this morning.