by H G Lynch
My inner alarms were quiet, barely buzzing in the back of my skull. Slowly descending the porch steps, I walked to the curb, my footsteps near silent on the concrete. In the distance, I could hear the laughter of teenagers and the rev of a motorbike engine. All was silent around me but for the slight rustle of tree branches in the wind and the pounding of blood in my ears.
“Come on, you motherfucker,” I snarled, spinning slowly on my heel, searching the bushes around the house for signs of movement, a glint of red eyes, or the shimmer of oily skin. “You want me? Come and get me! I’m ready for you, you fucking stinking piece of shit!”
My enraged voice echoed down the empty street, bouncing back at me from alleyways and still cars. Nothing shifted, nothing blinked. My instincts were silent, telling me that the demon was gone. It had left.
I swore viciously. There was a fire of fury burning in my gut, and no way to quench my flaming desire for vengeance. My sword was suddenly cold in my grip, my daggers heavy on my hips, and my heart thumped sluggishly as my pulse slowed.
“Son of a bitch,” I hissed, seething as I stormed back up the porch and went inside. I locked the door again, leaning my sword against the wall, and when I turned around, my mother was standing in the living room doorway, looking anxious.
“Ruairidh, what on Earth is going on? Why is Islay passed out upstairs? And why are you running around the street with your sword? Talk to me, Ru.” She crossed her arms over her paint-stained blue t-shirt, but it looked more as if she was hugging herself than trying to intimidate me. Her blue eyes were wide and scared.
I didn’t want to scare her even more, but I knew Layla was tougher than she looked. After all, she’d been married to my dad for almost fifteen years. He’d taught her to fight with a knife, trained her in self-defence. She’d lived over half her life knowing about demons and had watched my dad leave us every night to go and fight the evil, knowing he might never come home and she would be left to raise me and my brother on her own.
For all her delicate beauty, my mother was a warrior as much I was.
I looked her in the eyes and said quietly, “The demon that killed dad . . . it’s here. It followed Islay and me home from the party she was at, and it ran off before I could fight it. But it’ll be back. It’s playing some sort of game, and next time . . . I will kill it.”
Mum stared at me for a second, her expression unreadable, and then her eyes softened and she whispered, “You sound so much like your dad. He would be so proud of you, Ru.”
My breath caught in my lungs, and a lump formed in my throat. My mother moved forward and hugged me, the top of her head barely coming to the point of my chin, but the strength of her love made me feel as if I was eleven years old again, getting ready for my first hunt with Dad.
“Thanks, Mum,” I croaked.
She pulled back and smiled at me, the same warm smile she’d given me when I’d come home after that first hunt with a scraped knee and a proud smile. She laid her hand against my stubbled cheek and said, “I know you’ll kill that demon, Ruairidh. But, just remember, killing the demon won’t bring your father back, Ru. And be careful. You’ve got someone to come back for now.”
She glanced toward the stairs, and I blushed like a total idiot, knowing she was talking about Islay.
Ducking my head, I mumbled, “I will. I promise.”
Mum laughed softly and patted me on the shoulder. “Go on then. She’ll want to see you when she wakes up.”
Angus was standing outside his bedroom door like a bodyguard, except he was tapping his fingers on his arm incessantly, bouncing his right foot, and generally looking as if he was about to have a nervous breakdown. At least until he saw me come up the stairs, and then some of the frantic anxiety left him.
He lurched toward me. “What happened? Are you okay? Did you kill it?”
He fired questions at me so fast, his words blurred into one another, and I put a hand over his mouth to shut him up.
“I didn’t kill it. It disappeared by the time I got outside,” I replied, removing my hand from his mouth.
He frowned, a mix of disappointment and relief mingling on his face. “Oh. So . . . you’re okay, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m fine, Angus. Is Islay still sleeping?”
Sighing, he nodded. “Last time I checked.”
I put my hand on the doorknob, about to go in and check on her myself, and then paused. I was still strapped up with daggers, and she was going to have enough questions when she woke up without seeing me armed to the teeth. So I headed to my room to disarm first. By the time I returned to Angus’s room, the door was open, and I could hear muffled sounds inside.
Leaning around the doorway, I peered in. Islay was sitting up, Angus kneeling next to her on the bed, holding a glass of water out to her. Her hair was a mess, sticking up in some places, and her face was pale and tired, but her smile for Angus was genuine as she took the glass and a couple of white pills from him—aspirin, undoubtedly.
“Thanks,” she said quietly after swallowing the pills with a gulp of water. Then she glanced around and her brow creased. “Where’s Ruairidh? He said he’d be right behind me. He did come home, right?”
I got a tight feeling in my chest when I realised she was worried about me. Smiling, I stepped into the room. “Relax, babe. I’m right here.”
Her eyes lit up with relief, and she sighed. “Thank God. What happened? I remember you telling me to run, and I got to the house, and then . . . I must have passed out.” She scowled, as if annoyed at herself for passing out. Then she blinked and turned those honey-bronze eyes on me like frickin’ spotlights. “Why did you tell me to run?”
I chewed my lip and glanced at Angus. He shrugged unhelpfully. I glared at him, and he just raised his eyebrows. Islay flicked her gaze between us, frowning at our silent exchange.
“What? What is it?” she asked.
Fuck. I closed my eyes, trying to decide whether to tell her the whole truth or feed her a lie. Lying would be easier in the short-term, but in the end, if I was going to stick around and have a relationship with Islay, she’d find out the truth eventually. It would be safer for her if she knew. It wouldn’t be fair to keep her in the dark about what was really out there and what I did, especially since it could put her life on the line if she was involved with me.
A part of me was terrified that, once I told her the truth, she wouldn’t want to be with me anymore. That she’d run from me, think I was crazy, and never talk to me again. I didn’t know if I could handle that.
That was the selfish part of me, a part that had been getting smaller and smaller the more I was around her. The question was did I love her enough to risk her leaving?
I opened my eyes and looked at her, her expression growing wary the longer I was silent. Damn she was so beautiful, with those honey eyes, pink lips, and silky brown hair. I wanted her to stay so much that it made my chest ache. I wasn’t strong enough to lose her after losing my dad. There was only so much I could take, and if she left, I’d break.
I sighed and opened my mouth without knowing what I was going to say.
Chapter Twenty-Six
** Islay **
Once Ruairidh started talking, it seemed as if the words just poured out of him, as if he couldn’t say it all fast enough. I had to focus hard to understand everything he was saying, and even then, half of it escaped me. There were a few key words I clung to, though. The main one being Demon.
By the time he was done talking, I was in some sort of shock or something. My skin was cold, my head was pounding despite the aspiring I’d taken, and I couldn’t think of a single thing to say. Part of me was hoping it was all some elaborate joke, while the other part was thinking he was insane.
Refusing to believe the latter option simply out of denial, I looked at Angus hopefully. He’d been present through Ruairidh’s entire explanation, leaning against the bedroom door, as if he expected me to try to run. He wasn’t looking at me though. He was staring
at the floor with a brooding expression on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. I didn’t think he’d moved a muscle since Ruairidh started speaking.
Seeing I was getting no help, nor any answers from him, I turned my attention back to Ruairidh, who was sitting on the end of the bed, looking exhausted and miserable, and just a little bit hopeful. As if he was waiting for me to smile, say it was all going to be okay, and I still wanted him in my life.
The problem was, I wasn’t sure that, if everything he’d said was true, that I did still want him in my life. I mean, it was a massive long shot, but assuming he wasn’t crazy and he really was telling the truth about demons being out there and him fighting them, I couldn’t imagine being involved in that part of his life. I’d go crazy every time he was out of my sight, wondering if he was hunting a demon, wondering if he was dead.
It was bad enough there was the possibility of walking incarnations of evil lurking in city streets all over the world, feeding on and killing humans. I’d never be able to sleep again. I’d never leave my house again, for fear that a demon would get me.
I couldn’t deal with that. I couldn’t live like that. I loved Ruairidh, I really did, but I wasn’t strong enough to be part of his crazy, dangerous life.
And if he is really just crazy? What then? I thought, putting my head in my hands. Then, I’ll leave. I had enough to deal with already, without adding a possibly insane boyfriend into the mix. I had to think about my family, about my dad and Peter. I didn’t think Ruairidh was dangerous to them, or to me, but how could I be sure? He did have that sword. I wasn’t sure I could hang around and listen to him rave about demons. I loved him far too much to watch him lose himself to insanity.
Either way, I had to let him go.
I didn’t realise I was sobbing uncontrollably until I felt a hand on my shoulder. I looked up miserably, tears wet on my cheeks and making my eyelashes cling together. Ruairidh’s green eyes met mine, guilt and sorrow written all over his features.
“I’m sorry, Islay. I shouldn’t have told you. I just . . . I thought you should know. Shit, I’m so sorry for dumping it all on you like that.”
I saw the pain and sincerity in his eyes, and I knew he believed what he was saying. I knew he really was sorry for it, too. It felt as if the ground had opened up beneath me and swallowed me into Wonderland, into a place where nothing made sense, where the impossible was possible and insanity was rational.
Swaying on the edge of losing my mind completely, I turned to Angus, desperate for something to grab hold of. He had always been rock, at least until lately. “Angus . . .?” I whispered.
He looked up. His auburn hair fell into his blue eyes, making him look like a beautiful but tired angel.
“Angus, is it true? What he’s saying? Are there . . . are there really demons out there?”
His face crumpled, and he didn’t answer. It didn’t matter. His expression was answer enough. I still trusted him. I knew Angus inside and out, and I knew he wasn’t crazy. If he believed what Ruairidh was saying, I had to accept it was real.
There were demons walking the Earth, and my boyfriend searched for them and killed them in his spare time, like a real life vigilante. No wonder he had that sword, that he was so muscled, intense, and scary. He was a demon hunter. The man I loved was a demon hunter.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath, trying to get my tears and my nerves under control. I had to pull it together, otherwise they would never let me leave. “Okay,” I said quietly, wiping the wetness off my cheeks. “Okay, I believe you.”
Ruairidh’s eyebrows went up in shock. “You do?”
I nodded. “I trust you both. If you say it’s real, then I believe you. Now, if you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to go home,” I said evenly.
Abruptly, Ruairidh’s expression shifted, and wariness overtook his surprise. “Islay, I don’t think that’s a good idea right now. I’ll call your dad and tell him you’re staying here tonight. Better yet, I’ll have my mum call.”
Angus stepped forward, nodding. “He’s right, Iz. You should stay here, just until morning. It’s dangerous out there while it’s dark.”
I shivered, imagining all sorts of twisted, evil monsters hiding in the shadows and the side streets, waiting for juicy prey to come along. But I had to go home. “I’ll be fine. I just . . . I need some space, some time to think. I’ll call you both in the morning, I promise. Please, just . . . I need to go home.”
They exchanged a meaningful look, and I knew they weren’t letting me go. Panic clutched at my chest, and I tried not to let it show. Angus sat down on the edge of the bed and took my hand.
“Please, Izzy. Just stay for tonight. So we don’t worry about you, okay? I’ll sleep in Ruairidh’s room, so you can have mine. We’ll leave you alone, so you can process all this, and we’ll talk again in the morning, alright?”
I sighed and nodded. “Alright,” I whispered. I hated lying to him—to both of them. But I couldn’t stay. Every second I spent there with them watching me, I felt more and more like I was unravelling. Soon, I would be completely undone, and I doubted I’d be able to pull myself back together. My heart was already coming unwoven, the threads attached to Ruairidh and Angus spiralling out of my chest and tangling into knots.
Ruairidh gave Angus a meaningful glance, and Angus nodded at him before turning and leaving the room. My breath caught in my throat as my anchor, my safety net, walked away. It wasn’t that I was scared of Ruairidh, but I didn’t necessarily feel safe being alone him anymore. He’d slowly weaved himself into my life, into my heart, and now he was pulling the strings apart from the inside.
Once the door closed behind Angus, Ruairidh looked at me and asked, “Are you really okay, or were you just saying that so Angus wouldn’t freak out? I mean, it’s okay if you’re not. I get it. This is . . . a lot to take in. I’ve always known what was out there, but to you, this must be a big shock. I can’t imagine how scared you must be right now, but I promise you, I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Oh, Ruairidh, I thought sadly. If only that was a promise you could keep. But it wasn’t one I was going to give him a chance to break. I forced a smile and said, “I’m fine, Ruairidh. Really. I mean, obviously, I’m not totally fine, but . . . I trust you. I know you’d never let me get hurt.”
He smiled back crookedly, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair back behind my ear. My lips trembled at his touch, and I pressed them together, so he wouldn’t see that I was falling apart inside.
I cleared my throat, looking away. “Um, I’m going to go . . . wash my face. I must look like a wreck.”
“You’re a beautiful wreck,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss me softly on the lips.
More tears came to my eyes, and I pulled away quickly, before they could break free and betray my internal misery.
I hopped off the bed and walked calmly down the hall to the bathroom. Once inside, I locked the door behind me and bent over the sink, gripping the smooth sides as my chest heaved with my silent sobs. I let myself go for only a few seconds before forcing myself to straighten up. I avoided looking at myself in the mirror as I turned on the sink taps, leaving them running as I went to the small window at the back of the bathroom. I closed the toilet lid and stood on it, pushing the window open. It slid outward, leaving a gap of about a foot between the glass and the sill.
It would be a tight squeeze—I hadn’t done this since Angus and I were thirteen, and I’d grown a lot since then, especially in the chest. But I was pretty sure I could squish through. Then it was a fifteen-foot drop to the ground, but I knew from experience that there was a ledge about nine feet down, an overhang that shaded the patio doors.
I hoped the running water would disguise the sound of my trainer squeaking as I stepped on the toilet lid and slid one leg out the window. I twisted around, sliding my other leg out, so I was bent over the sill with my bottom half dangling outside. The edge of the windowsill cut into my stomach painfully, but I hooked my
fingers over the window frame and let myself drop, so I was hanging onto the wall twenty feet over the ground. My heart was surprisingly steady as I lifted my feet and settled them on the ledge below.
Carefully, I let go of the windowsill and crouched down on the ledge, pressing my body close and twisting around so my back was to the wall. Then I scooted over to the very edge of the overhang, so my legs weren’t in view through the patio doors, and I jumped.
My knees gave out at the impact with the hard ground, and I rolled in the grass. I hissed, certain I’d sprained my ankle, but I got to my feet anyway. I didn’t want to hang around to see if one of the boys had heard me jump. I limped around to the front of the house, pausing to make sure the street was clear, and then I ran-limped as fast as I could toward home.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
** Ruairidh **
I paced the hallway outside the bathroom, waiting for Islay to come out. I was worried about her. I didn’t buy that she was fine, that she’d just accepted everything I’d told her that easily. There had been a sort of blankness in her eyes afterwards, not like she was still drunk, but like she was in some kind of shock. That was one of the reasons I was so against her going home. If she broke out of the shock at home, I wouldn’t be there to comfort her and calm her down.
Maybe I shouldn’t have told her. Maybe I should have just lied to her. I’d have hated to do it, but at least she wouldn’t have been freaking out. Maybe telling her had been the selfish thing to do? God, I didn’t even know right from left anymore. I needed sleep. We all did.
I stared at the bathroom door, thinking Islay had been in there for a while. I could hear the taps running, but I wondered if she was curled in a ball on the floor behind the door, crying her eyes out quietly. The thought made my heart cramp, and I lifted a hand to knock on the door. Just before my knuckles met the wood, I heard a squeak, some shuffling sounds, and then a distant thump.