Finally, tiny footsteps begin to fall.
“Wait.” Anika declares, freezing on the third stair from the top. Only visible are her ruby-sequined Dorothy replica, Mary Jane shoes. “I need my bracelet.”
Walking into the foyer, Scarlett takes out a large over-the-shoulder bag. It’s exactly the same as mine—same worn leather, same ornate design, same splashes of color. I wonder if hers too, has the powers of Mary Poppins. I imagine so as the heft to pull it out seems a little exaggerated for the size of the purse. I wonder where she got hers.
More scuffling upstairs. Hushed hurried voices.
“Let’s go, guys,” Scarlett calls, half-way out the door. She’s got on movie star sunglasses, `a la Audrey Hepburn.
Ten minutes later, we pile into her shiny black modernized Range Rover. It’s huge. A family could live in this thing. A tiny hand with impeccably painted pink nails appears between the front seats. A moonstone heart dangles from a rainbow of gemstones. The heart changes color in the sunlight—baby pink, white, cottonwood blue, silver.
“I want you to have this,” Anika says, peeking over the seat.
“Wow, Anika. That’s gorgeous, but I can’t take your bracelet. It’s yours,” I reply gratefully.
“Nope. I want you to have it.” She grabs my arm and expertly fastens the bracelet in place. She examines it intently. Squinting her eyes, she whispers, “I knew it.”
“You knew what?” I ask.
“I knew you were a secret werewolf, just like me. I can tell because the stones reveal true werewolves when they put them on. It’s all about the sparkle. They get more sparkly-er on us,” she murmurs the last sentence, a tiny hand cupped over my ear.
“I’m honored, Anika. Just honored. Thank you,” I reply as I inspect the beautiful piece.
“Okay. Buckle in, everyone.” Scarlett looks at me with the last word.
I whip my seatbelt on as quickly as the kids.
15
We drive back into town and pull in front of a storefront. A big, muscular guy is walking out. He’s about 6’ tall, short hair the color of cocoa powder and eyes the color of caramel-rimmed root beer, almost the same as Scarlett’s. He’s wearing jeans and a Detroit Tigers t-shirt. I know this because I unearthed a similar one years ago. I have a fascination with ancient Detroit because of my heritage. I like these two.
He comes over to the passenger side. “Hi, I’m Connor,” he says, shaking my hand. His hand encases mine.
“Nice to meet you,” I reply.
“Hey guys,” he waves over my shoulder.
“Uncle Connor, Uncle Connor, Uncle Connor—” Axel calls from the rear.
“Hey buddy,” he says, climbing in the back with the kids. We start down the road.
“How are ya guys?”
“Fine. Mom tried to fix that light bulb in the kitchen,” Reese says casually while writing in her notebook. From Scarlett’s expression, I’m getting that was a loaded contribution to the conversation.
“Tell me not the florescent one…” he says cautiously.
“Yep, that one,” Reese replies.
“Hey—it wasn’t that bad,” Scarlett says, pushing the car’s speed past its limits while swerving around corners.
“It was like Cw-istmas, Maa-weee Cw-istmas, Mommy,” Axel calls out from the back.
“It was not like Christmas,” she mutters under her breath. Out loud—“Maa-wee Christmas, Axel.”
“How was it like Christmas?” Connor asks.
“The snow,” Anika exclaims. “It all came floating down.”
“Snow?” Connor’s face is perplexed.
“Well, she tried to turn the bulb like you do a regular light bulb. And poof—snowflakes made of glass,” Reese says, still writing. “I told her to let me find the instruction manual.” She rolls her eyes.
“Well, thanks for the recap, Reese,” Scarlett says. “I’ll have you know; the body count was zero. And, nobody was injured.”
“There shouldn’t be any talk of a body count!” Connor bellows. His face is pricelessly incredulous. “Just let me know and I will do it.”
“Okay. Okay. It looked easy,” she says, swerving around a tree. The road narrows as the thicket grows.
“I tried to change my chandelier once,” I recall. Dark Shire uses ancient forms of electricity as well. Another Back to the Future III setting: 2020, except it’s always nighttime. “I wanted a simpler design. The one that was up was gold and intricate, gaudy. I figured you just unscrew it, unplug it—just like an outlet and put the new one in. So, I unscrew it just to find guts of wires, different colors and widths. There is no outlet. There is no plug.”
“Did you turn the power off first?” Connor asks.
“Yep. I hit the switch,” I reply.
“Like the light switch?”
“Yeah, I flipped the light switch off.”
“But not the circuit breaker?”
“No. Just the switch.”
He shakes his head slowly and solemnly. “God had his eye on you that day.” His eyes are wide.
“I guess He did,” I reply, having had absolutely no clue I was involved in something dangerous enough for that reaction.
The car hits a bump and swerves to the right, but Scarlett regains control instantly.
“So, where are you from?” Connor asks me.
“Dark Shire, I’m unconnected though.”
“Like us,” he nods. “How you likin’ Crystal?”
“Oh, I love Crystal. Always have. I think I might eventually move out here. I’m pretty nomadic.”
“I get that.” He looks out the window.
Suddenly, the library looms in front of us.
“Can we come, Mommy? Can we come? Please,” Anika asks.
“Sure, but what’s the rule?”
“Put everything back exactly where we found it,” all three reply in unison.
“And girls…” Scarlett starts.
“Watch your brother,” the ladies chorus. They race in front of us.
Connor opens the giant door. We follow the kids into the main anteroom. I start my search for Dagan assuming he’s beaten me here. I’m about seventeen minutes late. Not too shabby for this girl.
He is nowhere to be found, and we look everywhere. I’m lucky to have Scarlett, Connor, and the kids. They know all the secret nooks and crannies. There are a lot of them in this old castle.
“Well, we should check his house,” Scarlett says, exiting a room. We move to the foyer.
“Come on guys,” she calls. The girls come running from opposite directions. “Where’s your brother?”
They look at each other, then behind themselves as if he was right there a second ago.
“Come on,” she says, disappearing into a tunnel. “Connor—mission: Axel; last seen… Girls, where did you last see him?”
“I’m in the right wing.” Connor’s shout is muffled by the billions of pages occupying the space. “No sign of him here. Moving toward you.”
“Okay,” she shouts back. The tunnel forks.
“Girls, you each take a tunnel. Yell when you find him.” She and I continue forward to the largest room and split ways. Shelves reach the gigantic ceiling. It’s a rat maze navigating through these narrow passageways.
“Axel,” we take turns yelling. I round a corner and see the tiniest bit of blonde fluff sticking out from a mountain of books. Coming into full view, I spot two knobby knees hidden in the pages.
“Hey you.” I kneel down next to the breathing paper fort. A giggle erupts from the pile and a head pokes out between covers.
“Hi, Lyvia,” he says with a huge smile.
“Hi, Axel. Lemme help you out there,” I grab his hand and lift him to his feet. The books scatter around.
“I got him,” I call out to Scarlett. “Aisle: Two-Six-Nine-One.”
“On my way,” she calls back.
Putting the books back quickly and messily, I scoop him up and meet her at the end of the aisle. The girls join us. Anika has a fold
ed paper crown on her head. It’s very well crafted. Gold edges the paper.
“Anika, I told you no book destruction,” Scarlett chides as we make our way outside.
“Mom, it was already loose,” she shrugs.
“Okay. It looks pretty.” Scarlett unlocks the Range Rover. “Let’s try his house.”
She navigates the forest as well as Dagan. Ten minutes later, we pull up to the clearing in the forest. His ‘cottage’ appears in the midst of trees. We pile out of the car and spread out SWAT team style. That’s if the SWAT team consisted of five puppies making beelines with no particular destination in mind. There are doors all around the perimeter.
Scarlett and the kids take the left way around. Connor and I take the right. All the doors are sealed shut. Connor and I are about half-way the length of the house when we hear a vehicle far away but getting closer. We run the way we came, bumping into our cohorts at the front of the house.
“Rear entryway,” Scarlett says, breathing heavily.
“Around back,” Connor replies, taking a peek.
She nods. “We should hide. We don’t have time to get to the car.”
We spot a grotto out in the woods. Scarlett swoops up Axel, Connor swoops up Anika, and we sprint to the cavern. From our vantage point, we see a Goldster pull up. It’s Inner-circle. I know this because it’s not the rookie Thunderbird style. This one is Bentley-styled. I also know this because I have spent a lot of time in that particular vehicle.
The doors open and four men jump out: one very large, two slightly smaller, and the fourth, 6’ tall and muscular. They go straight into SWAT team mode, looking a helluva lot more professional than we just did. They’ve got rayguns—Framework weapons. The beams can slice through nearly anything. They’re shaped as old-world guns. The rays can be programmed to create a small jolt similar to a stun gun, or slice straight through matter, X-ray vision-style. I recognize those four forms—all too much.
We cower in the grotto. Scarlett holds Axel whose face is buried in her neck. Anika’s is buried in Connor’s. Reese’s head peeks below mine in the opening. The four guys disperse around the house checking all the doors. When that's finished, they begin to survey the landscape.
“Should we check the woods?” a gruff voice asks. Bryce.
“Ugh. Guys, really? He’s not gonna be easy to find, and he knows these woods better than the animals that live here.” Another voice. Chad.
“Why would he hide in the woods?”
“So we don’t find him, Sam.” Chad again. “If he knows the woods better than anyone, no one can find him there. Jeez. Do I have to spell out everything for you?”
“Shut up, all of you. We will check the outer perimeter. You two go west. Bryce and I go east. I want coverage of at least a hundred yards into the woods. Then we can go. Now, move.” Damien.
My skin crawls in the clammy cave. The cave that’s only about fifty yards into the forest. Maybe they’re not smart enough for geo-accuracy. Who am I kidding? They all have special Slabs. They’ll be over here in a matter of minutes.
Suddenly, the copper head that was hovering beneath mine vanishes. I look out the cave to see two skinny legs running through the clearing. In her path—Anika’s paper crown. I look behind her to see Bryce and Damien about fifty feet east looking in the opposite direction.
I stand there frozen watching as she reaches the crown. Scarlett notices her absence and sprints to the entrance. Connor stops her with a hand. Reese picks up the crown and begins to sprint toward us. She is about fifteen feet away when a sudden invisible jolt takes her down, the crown floating softly to the ground.
Two thick sets of boots march up next to her unmoving—but clearly still breathing—body. I see one crush Anika’s perfectly folded crown into spongy soil. Connor is holding a silently frantic Scarlett back with one thick arm. Anika and Axel silently clutch their respective necks.
“What do we have here?” Bryce, the biggest—and creepiest one—says, walking in a slow circle around Reese’s still form.
Damien stoops down and lifts the hair from Reese’s face.
“I’ll kill him with own my bare hands,” Scarlett whispers full of unbridled rage.
“She’s young, Bryce. Don’t be gross,” Damien says. “Go get the other guys.”
“Let me just,” he stoops down.
Scarlett’s entire body shakes with fury from the darkness of the cave.
“Bryce. If you don’t get away from her and get those guys, I swear to you…” He doesn’t need to finish his warning sentence. Bryce is already making his way to the others. Damien’s the one in charge here. As usual.
Once again unarmed, I look to the other two adults. Nobody expected this.
Suddenly, Connor pulls an object from his waistband.
“Is that an ax?” Scarlett asks incredulously.
“A tomahawk,” he replies with a shrug. “For protection.”
I sit on the floor of the cave and un-tie my sandals.
“What are you doing?” Connor whispers urgently. “Wardrobe change?”
“Hopefully, not just a wardrobe change,” I whisper. “I have a history with that guy.” The shoes dangle from my hand. “Stay here and try not to kill anyone with that thing. If anyone gets too close, just knock them out.” I take a deep breath and emerge into the sunlight. Squinting my eyes until they adjust, I walk barefoot to Reese’s form, tip-toeing over branches.
“Look who it is,” I say to Damien who’s squatting down searching his Slab. He looks up at me. Recognition dawns.
“Lyvia,” he drawls, breaking into a smile and standing up.
“Damien,” I reply, not returning it.
“Long time no see,” he says. “She with you?”
“Yeah, she is. So, I’m gonna need to take her and leave. Now.”
“Oh, well, Lyvia, you know I can’t do that,” he counters. “Levi’s been looking for you.” He circles around Reese slowly.
“Well, isn’t that convenient. I just so happen to be looking for him too,” I reply, standing still. The cold damp earth melds to my bare feet.
“I could take ya,” he offers.
“No thanks, Damien. I’ll find him myself.”
“I’d say suit yourself, but he pretty much told me to bring you to him by any means necessary, so you and your little friend here are coming with us.”
Footsteps. Muffled conversation. The gang’s almost back. I jerk my hand as if doing so might transform the shoes. No such luck.
“You got company, Dame?” Sam calls as they near us. “Who’s the blonde?”
Bryce, Sam, and Chad join our little posse.
“Lyvia? You went blonde,” Bryce says, stepping up to me. He reaches out to touch my hair. I jerk back violently.
“Okay, jeez. It sure is pretty.” The last sentence is drawn out… A serial killer before he takes a snip of it home for under his pillow.
“I don’t like to be touched. You know this, Bryce,” I sneer.
“Oh yeah, I do think I remember that. But, we could really have fun, Lyvia.” He’s huge. Bigger than Shane. Wide as a bulldozer. He has blonde hair and a round face, rosy cheeks. He’s a massive Gustav in Willy Wonka, albeit on blue elixir. I wish I could watch him drown to death in a chocolate river.
“Bryce, get away from her. Both of them,” Damien says, before Gustav can gravitate toward Reese. “Sam and Chad tie her up,” he points to Reesy’s petite body.
They get out glowing Framework zip-ties, reminiscent of Dagan’s, and begin to tie Reese’s ankles and wrists. I wiggle the shoes back and forth in my hand, willing them to transform.
“Now, for you, Lyv, we can do this the easy way or the hard way,” Damien drawls, moseying over to me.
“Don’t call me that,” I warn. He has sandy brown hair that curls up around his ears and the nape of his neck. If you take away who he works for and what he does for a living—he’s hot—movie star hot. The boy next door—Chris Pine-esque—piercing blue eyes, gorgeous smile.
Pure evil.
“I think it’s safe to say we’re doing this the hard way,” I say, whipping my weighty shoes at his face. I make contact—a sick, crunching sound. I follow up with a jab to the throat. He falls back but recovers quickly. I expertly duck his swing and kick out his legs from beneath him.
The shoes, still shoes, continue to dangle from my left hand. I give him space to get up, scared he’ll swipe me if I get too close.
“You need us, boss?” Sam asks, almost finished with the zip ties.
“Just say the word,” Gustav appears behind Damien, salivating. A vicious, snarling dog eagerly awaiting his master’s command.
“No. I got her,” Damien replies, wiping blood from his mouth.
“Do you?” I ask, twirling the shoes menacingly.
“Yeah. I do.”
I swing the shoes at him again, this time the other direction. He senses my decision quickly and seizes the sandals. He rips the straps from my hand and tosses them into the woods. I see them land near the crushed paper crown about ten feet away. I duck around him ninja-style and sweep out his legs. He anticipates my next kick and grabs my leg taking me down with him. Using both legs, I kick him in the mid-section. It doesn’t faze him. We’re both on our feet quickly.
I go for another throat jab, but he anticipates this as well, grabbing my arm and clocking me in the head. Heavily. I lie on the ground dazed. I blink into focus. A blurry Damien is moving toward me. Behind him, the picture clears and I see the other boys attempting to move Reese.
Please, God. I could use a little help here.
Damien gets closer. He grabs me by the shirt and lifts me up. My midriff is bared. This really annoys me. I’m getting seriously pissed off. I never liked these guys.
“Come on. I know you’ve missed me,” he says. He grabs a giant handful of my hair and jerks it. Hard.
“We could’ve had some fun times. But, you play—So. Hard. To. Get.” The last four words are punctuated with yanks. I think he takes some scalp with it. Now I’m really pissed. Don’t fuck with my hair. The only one who touches these locks, besides me, is my mother.
That’s it. I go for a kick to the groin. He dodges it and grabs me by the neck up against the tree.
I Am the Storm Page 13