I collect a weak, half-smile in return. “No, it wasn’t.” I watch as he shakes his head, banishing whatever sad thoughts he has drifting around inside him. He starts the car and backs out of the lot, driving toward home.
“How did the intervention go?” I ask, trying to focus on something that isn’t T.K.’s sad face, my superficialness, or Lindsay’s deterioration.
“It…went. Marcella flipped out, as expected. She broke the TV.”
“Seriously?” I have a lot of opinions about Marcella, but violent isn’t one of them. I hate to think she and I have anything in common other than Lindsay. I remember when Mom and Lindsay sat me down a couple of years ago and told me I had a problem. I tossed a crystal vase into the oven, breaking both in one swoop. Mom replaced the oven, but the vase was one-of-a-kind.
“She doesn’t like us involved in her business, which is pretty hypocritical. She has trouble understanding the difference between what you and I have, and what she has with Lindsay. Apparently, I’m delusional to think what we have is stronger.”
“I think it’s different for us because we don’t have a huge secret weighing us down. Not that I want Marcella to tell Lindsay, but I don’t see how they can be together when one of them is always lying. It’s a pretty shitty foundation for a relationship.”
T.K. grows quiet again as he ponders my words, leaving me alone with my superficial thoughts. I can’t shake it from my head. I don’t see anything wrong with Lindsay liking girls, but I can’t picture the same for myself, even if that girl was T.K. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised–if I ever had any interest in girls, I would be with Lindsay. It makes me think. Sometimes, maybe soulmates aren’t meant to be.
I’m so preoccupied I don’t realize T.K. swerving the car until we are horizontal across both lanes, eye-to-eye with a wall of black smog. From within the cloud, out steps a man dressed in a ragged suit, his dark skin blending into the wall. I squint, entranced by the event.
“Raye, get down,” T.K. says, his voice laced with fear.
The man steps forward into the light from the car.
It is Mr. Okar, my old math teacher. He is dishevelled and wrong, wearing a tarnished version of the outfit I saw him in earlier today as he passed me in the hall. In the distance, I spot twinkles of red and orange breaking free of a second cloud of smoke.
The Leichen have taken him.
And I don’t think they’re done.
CHAPTER 24
I can’t tell if it is my own fear, or the fear radiating off T.K., but I am rigid, frozen to the spot. T.K. keeps shouting at me to get down in my seat, but I’m still focused on what used to be Mr. Okar, smiling at me like he still knows who I am.
“Pretty little girl, she’ll do?” he coos, speaking to the wall of smog. I don’t know how I can hear him inside the car, until I realize I am standing with one foot on the ground, the car door flung open. I do not recall opening it.
T.K. is talking fervently into my ear and pulling at my arm. I shake my head, turning to him slowly, unable to focus on anything other than my desire to go to Mr. Okar’s body. “Raye, you need to fight it!” he hisses, digging his fingers into my arm. It should probably hurt. “They can delve into your head; they can make you do things without even trying. Raye!” he shouts, as I dive toward the door, trying to escape.
“Pretty little girl, come out to play,” Mr. Okar’s voice sings. I feel the car shake beneath me, twisting and bending as though it is made from rubber, not metal. T.K. drags me out the driver’s side door, the gear shift slamming against my tailbone as I go. The car caves in, crushing the space where our bodies were seconds before. I look at him wide-eyed.
“I’m so sorry,” T.K. says, hands on my shoulder, grounding me in place. “I love you.”
Before I can process what is happening, he is gone, walking straight to Mr. Okar. He appears more god than human. Beautiful. Fast as light and strong at iron, he swings Mr. Okar like a Frisbee, sending him flying toward a tree.
Instantly, my mind clears, becoming alert and focused on my surroundings. There are only a few things I know for certain; one of them is that I am not safe. Not my mind or my body or my heart. No part of me is protected. I do the only thing a semi-rational person can do in such a situation.
I run.
My lungs fill with chilled air, spiced with the scent of the various restaurants and homes a few acres away. One of the benefits of spending your whole life in the same small town is it’s next to impossible to get lost. To an outsider, it would seem as though I’m trapped in a never-ending forest, all brambles and trees, but to a townie, I’m a ten minute walk from the police station, a seven minute walk to the bridge, and well within yelling distance of a few homes. There is an abandoned set of train tracks somewhere to my left, hidden among the trees.
I want to yell and scream and run toward help, but I know that will only put others in danger. I doubt a gun can harm a cloud of smog. I run toward the abandoned tracks.
T.K. implied the thing could be killed in its intangible form, but he never gave me the how. How can you kill something you can hardly see, nonetheless touch? I berate myself for not asking when I had the chance. Now it is too late. I am alone and defenceless.
I also remember T.K. telling me the Leichen were next to impossible to kill once they took a human form, and I’m acutely aware of him fighting one behind me. My chest fills with the ache of leaving him. I’m tempted to go back, but self-preservation keeps me running.
The ground isn’t muddy like it was the last time I ran through a forest. The weather has been unusually cold the past week, allowing the ground to freeze solid, even though there isn’t any snow left.
I stall in-between two closely set trees, already out of breath and cursing my lack of lung capacity. There are no sounds, movements, or shadows in the vicinity. It would be less concerning if there were. I have no idea where the attack will be coming from, or even if it is still coming. I can’t hear T.K. anymore. It takes every part of me to not think about what that means.
A horrific mix of grating metal and thunder explode around me, knocking me off-balance.
Through the trees shoots a bullet of a man, all black and clad in rags. My scream can’t be heard over the tearing of metal.
Mr. Okar’s body charges toward me, slowing so I can see him only when he is less than a foot away. “Pretty little girl is all alone,” he hisses, his voice familiar and erroneous.
“Where’s T.K.?”
I should be afraid. I should plead for my life or scream for help that will do me no good. But when faced with my death, all I want to know is I will be facing it alone. I can handle dying. I cannot handle T.K. joining me.
“Doesn’t matter now.” The air is tainted with the acidic smell wafting off him as he lowers himself to stroke my cheek. My flesh burns in its wake. “Come, Akmas.”
“You can feel everything we’ve felt, can’t you?” I brace myself for the appearance of the other. Mr. Okar’s body watches me hungrily, nodding slightly as his eyes drift across my body. “Trust me when I say you don’t want your friend feeling what’s in here.” I slam my palm to my chest. “This could eat a person alive. They won’t make it out.”
“So tortured.” He smiles and yanks my hair back from my skull, forcing me to my feet. I’m unable to move, unable to breathe.
I should have screamed while it was still an option.
T.K., I’m so sorry.
“I have many memories of you, yes; all broken and withered... Many demons inside, but such a pretty face. It will be worth it, I think. It is young, but it will grow.”
I know the thing called Akmas has arrived, because Mr. Okar’s face twists into a horrific grin. In his eyes I see my fate. I close mine in response.
Warm liquid sprays my cheeks, accompanied by a clap of thunder so loud it breaks my eardrums into a thousand fragments. I open my eyes, running my hands down my face. My fingers come away coated in red. Across from me, further than before, Mr. Okar’s face
is split apart and his chest is ripped in two, the result of a bullet fired at close range.
Science tells me he should be dead.
T.K. is proof science is flawed.
I watch as T.K. slices apart Mr. Okar’s body, shredding it until there is nothing human left. The screams, both of rage and of pain, last far longer than they should.
“Raye…” T.K. gasps, looking up to make sure I’m okay. “Get back. Farther!” he shouts when I finally move. He continues to wrestle with the mangled corpse, its screams still tearing apart the night.
My legs bring me a dozen feet away while my eyes follow T.K. He coats Mr. Okar in a dusty powder from a small bag he carries inside his tattered coat, stepping back only to ignite the body in flame. Sparks dance and sputter as T.K. runs to my side, encasing me in his arms. All I want is to close my eyes, but they remain open, transfixed on the catching fire as my ears bleed with the sound of pain. It isn’t until the body is fully engulfed in flames do the shrieks finally stop.
It is like watching fireworks, if fireworks smelled of charring flesh and death.
“It’s thermite,” T.K. says as the body explodes and dances and explodes some more. “It’s the hottest substance we can create, and about the only thing that prevents them from regenerating if we hurt them.”
“He’s dead.” I don’t need to say it, but the words feel final on my tongue. I’m in shock. My mind wants to run away, but it is like I’m trapped inside screaming for help, my body unable to hear me.
T.K. cups my face in his hands, meeting my eyes with his own. I don’t see the colour as I know I should. “This never should have happened.”
I scan his face, trying to will my body to react. To do something: run, scream, cry, laugh, anything. But I’m numb, frozen from the inside out. “You’re hurt,” I say, my tone flat. T.K.’s arm is badly sliced, and his face is so swollen I wouldn’t recognize him were we anywhere else.
“I’ll live. Raye, you’re scaring me. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” I reply, because my body isn’t letting me be anything else. “I…”
A surge of air fills my lungs, as cold as frozen iron. The sound of ripping metal fills the air again, but this time it is coming from me. My body finally reacts. And it is breaking apart, ruining me from the inside.
You killed him!
I am on my knees, my hands in my hair, trying desperately to pry the voice away.
You killed him!
There is something inside of me, pulling at my organs and wrapping itself around my bones, twisting and slashing and mutilating all that is me. I let out another scream, the pain so overwhelming it should kill me instantly.
“Raye!” T.K. He is upset. He is struggling, pulling at my limbs, forcing me this way and that way. No. Not T.K. The pulling is from inside me.
“You killed him!” I scream, my hand coming away with a chunk of my hair. My body is beyond broken; it will never be fixed.
I crumple to the ground, watching the trees sway in and out of focus.
It is a full moon.
An explosion fills the sky, shooting high above the trees like little diamonds, vibrating my body as they dance. I wonder if this is what my dad felt as his car crashed through the water, ripping apart his lungs.
Maybe death has been like diamonds all along.
CHAPTER 25
When I open my eyes, all I see are lights. Red. Blue. White.
My ears are filled with ringing–no, sirens. My head is attempting to split apart from an ache stabbing my temples.
“Raye? Baby, are you okay?”
“T.K.?”
“Oh, thank god.” He buries his face in my shoulder. “I thought…”
“It tried to get inside my head. I could feel it,” I whimper, turning my head into the dirt. Pain is all there is.
“It tried,” he confirmed. “But you’re here. You’re fine. You’re okay.”
“You need to go.”
I watch as he smears the tears off his face with his thumbs, leaving mud in their place. “What?” His voice breaks slightly as he tilts my chin forward. “Raye, I’m not going anywhere without you.”
“The police.” I struggle to sit up. “T.K., there’s a body. I’ll think of something. But you need to go now, before they find us.” With each passing second my mind clears, and with each moment of clarity, I realize how big of a mess we are in. If T.K. is caught in the middle of something like this, what will happen to him? What if someone finds out what he is? “I can’t lose you. Please go,” I say, trying to physically push him. It’s a weak attempt.
“If I go, you go. I’ll carry you.” He is looking at me like I am crazy, but he doesn’t understand.
“Someone needs to be here. I can handle this, but not if I’m worrying about you being dissected. Please go,” I beg. I hear the sirens stall and doors slam. We are moments away from being found next to the charred body of our teacher.
T.K. shoots me a pained look. He grabs my face and kisses me so deeply it makes my heart stop beating. Once he is gone, I drag myself toward the gun lying isolated on the ground and wipe it on my pants. I hold it in my hands as though I plan to fire before I drop it on the ground and pull my legs to my chest.
“Hands up!” a voice yells, shining a light on my face. Whatever the constable sees, it gives him pause. “I need a medic!”
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to kill him.”
CHAPTER 26
I came to the police station to track down my mom, who I haven’t seen in well over twenty-four hours. She doesn’t spend much time here, but it is closer to the clinic than her office, and I have no car. After finding Lindsay on my front steps, I was shaken to the point of needing the comfort only a mother can provide. I know it’s weird, considering I have never felt like I needed her before, but this time is different.
Naturally, when I decide I need her, Mom is nowhere to be found. The constable at the desk tells me she hasn’t been in all day, so I make a pit stop at the washroom before the walk back home. My head is killing me for some reason, and the world feels fuzzy and unnatural, as though I’m recovering from a bad hangover.
On top of that, I sort of felt like throwing up.
My reflection looks unimpressed. Mussed hair, wrinkled shirt–which I don’t even remember buying, nonetheless putting on–and makeup-less skin. God, I look like a nightmare. With everything going on, I feel like I’m losing my mind. I want to call T.K. and ask him to come over and snap me out of it, but calling him feels wrong for some reason.
I shake my head, trying to clear all the fuzziness. “You are too young to slip into insanity,” I tell my reflection. Realizing I actually do sound insane, I grab my jacket off the door hanger and head back out into the lobby.
“Are you okay, Miss McKenna?” one of the constables asks. “You’re looking a little green.”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I say absently, looking to the wall behind him. It is filled with row after row of missing children, teens, and adults, dating back over five years. The wall has fascinated me ever since I was a child. Sometimes, when my mom would bring me along on a work errand, I would sit staring at the wall for hours, wondering what happened to all of its occupants, making up stories to explain away their disappearances. I don’t think I ever understood what it meant: all those people are probably dead.
My feet turn to leave, but my head snaps back in a double-take; a face I recognize as though it is my own is pinned up on the wall. A chill crawls over my skin, picking at a memory I am unable to properly recall.
A pretty blonde with bright blue eyes and a stunning smile looks back at me.
Jenna Lewis, age 14.
She has been missing for over a year.
My jacket slips from my hand, falling to the floor.
I am not looking at a picture of Jenna Lewis.
I am looking at a picture of Marcella Knight.
CHAPTER 27
“Can I have that?” I demand, pointing to the image of Marcella
pinned to the wall behind the constable’s head. The girl is a bit ragged and unkempt, but there is no questioning who she is. I would know that too-perfect face anywhere.
“Huh?” the officer replies, shaking off whatever spell he is under. His eyes are cloudy and unfocused, like he recently woke up from a nap.
“That picture. I want it. Can I have it or not?” I snap, still pointing at the image of Jenna Lewis tacked on the wall.
The constable takes his sweet time unpinning it and passes it along, a confused look on his face.
“That girl’s been missing for over a year. She was a suspected runaway from a few towns over, I think. Most of them are.” He lifts his shoulders, uncaring. I don’t bother answering him as I head out the door. I wish I had my Jeep.
I don’t know where I’m going until I’m halfway to T.K.’s, the picture of Marcella still clutched in my hand as I dig my nails into my palms. The whole thing feels off. I’m missing something, some key piece that will put everything in its place. Marcella is different. T.K. said as much himself. Does he know she isn’t like the rest of the family? She is like the others T.K. told me about. A Leichen. I would bet my life on it. There is no way she coincidently has the same face as a runaway from a few towns over. No, Marcella attached herself to a body already here. And she did so recently, if the poster in my hand is any indication.
My mind is drifting into dangerous territory, but for the first time in months, my head feels clear. It is like there is a thick fog shadowing my brain, but I haven’t noticed until now. Something is wrong, and I am not going anywhere until I figure out what the hell it is.
When I storm up the Knight’s driveway, all the lights in the house are still on, even though it is well past midnight. The walk should have left me drained, but I have never felt so wired.
Chane answers after my first knock, her eyes wide. She looks a little dishevelled; I wonder when the last time she had a good night’s sleep was. “Raye! What are you doing here?” she chirps, her voice as crazed as her appearance.
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