Shadowshift (13 page)

CHAPTER 23

Pressing the blade firm against her throat, Chet holds the scrawny redhead girl close. All the while, he marvels at Hannah, who stands mere feet from him. How beautiful she’s grown. No longer a little girl; rather, a young woman who will one day become a goddess. She is worthy of his suffering, and he wants nothing more than to cleanse her eyes of fright forever. But not today. Today she will hurt. Healing can begin tomorrow. For now, he needs to deal with the loser standing next to her.

“I have no interest in you,” he tells the man. “Simply lay your car keys and phone on the coffee table, step away, and your daughter doesn’t have to die.” Then, to the quaking girl in his clutches, he whispers, “Calm down, dear. This knife is sharp, and sudden movements may prove fatal. You don’t want to die today, do you?”

As a whimper of understanding leaks from the girl, the man drops his phone and keys on the table, then takes a step back, holding his hands up like someone at gunpoint.

“Where’s Mom?” Hannah wails. “What have you done to her, you bastard?”

“Calm down, sweetie. I’ll take you to your mother soon, but first we have to deal with our guests. It would be rude to air our family secrets in front of them.”

The girl’s father cries, “Please…please let my…let my daughter go.”

How pathetic, thinks Chet. Here this man stands, showing his shame, weeping like a child in front of his own daughter. This is not a man. Men remain calm, calculating, in control. And that’s why Chet knows he’ll win in the end.

He’s in control.

Every struggle, every failure, has led him to this moment that scholars of his kind will one day write down in history books. The dawn of his species’ rebirth, and he’s the architect. Of course, he’ll have to find suitable cattle for Hannah to mate with, thus producing generations of half-breeds. On the other hand, Hannah herself is a half-breed, and she’s remarkable, so that concern casts little doubt on Chet’s burgeoning plan.

Staring down the whimpering man, Chet asks, “Can I trust you?”

“I…I don’t understand. I only—”

“I asked a simple question. Can—I—Trust—You? The answer is either yes, or it’s something else. And anything other than yes, I’m afraid, is no. So…can I trust you?”

“I don’t even know…don’t even know…”

Chet digs the blade into the girl’s neck, silencing her gurgling cries by clenching his hand across her gaping mouth. In one fluid sweep, he slashes the knife across her throat. Letting the body drop, he charges the shocked man without hesitation, plunging the blade into his chest. Still clutching the handle, Chet yanks the knife up and back, and a gruesome sucking sound bubbles from the man’s punctured lung.

Hannah scrambles toward the door as the man tumbles into a lamp, which crashes down on his twitching form. Chet leaps over the man in his dogged pursuit of Hannah. Then, just beyond the open door, he catches her arm, clamping his hand tight and slinging her back into the house. She lands hard at the base of the staircase, and he slams the door shut.

“I hope that didn’t hurt you too bad,” he says. And, despite the intensity of the last few seconds, his voice remains incredibly measured.

She looks up at him, tears vibrating in her eyes, her mouth quivering.

Gesturing to the now-motionless bodies in the living room, Chet shakes his head. “Not bad for improvisation, but not exactly how I wanted our reunion to start.”

“How?” Hannah says.

“How did I want our reunion to start?”

“No, how did you get out?”

He humorlessly chuckles. “Your mother released me, sweetie. I have no doubt she didn’t know what she was doing, but she freed me all the same.” Reaching down, he touches her soft cheek, and a tear trails across his finger. “Don’t worry, I forgive you, Hannah. You didn’t know what you were doing.”

“But I did,” she says.

He sits on the second stair and puts his arm around her, doing his best to straighten her cock-eyed posture. But her resistance is strong. Wriggling free, she manages to stand. He smiles. She doesn’t.

“You might not believe this, but I am very proud of you,” he says.

“I won’t believe anything you say, and you don’t know anything about me.”

“I know you’re not human, Hannah. Do
you
know that? Do you ever wonder why you’re different than everyone else, unable to fit in, easily irritated by the nature of others? Do you wonder why you understand everything so well? I bet you don’t even have to study in school, do you? You don’t even have to
try
. That’s because you’re smarter than normal people. You see movements ahead of humans. And it’s all because you’re like me, sweetheart. You’re a shifter.”

“That makes no sense. You didn’t even finish college. You worked a shitty job, and we lived in a shitty apartment. How can you say you’re part of a superior race?”

“Let’s just say I didn’t want to play by the rules.” Shrugging his shoulders, he smirks, then begins caressing the blade, which is thick with Sullivan blood. “Even superior races have their losers, but I won’t be a loser for much longer, because I’m now living for you.”

“Mom is human,” she says, “and that means I am, too.”

“I guess you have a point there, but your dominant genes belong to me. If only you could see how much you look like my mother, you would understand your importance, your destiny. Sadly, you’ll never get to meet her, Hannah, because she was gunned down by humans. All of my family, my
real
family,
our
real family, were killed by these things that infect this planet. You and I are all that’s left of our…”

* * *

Thinking about her mother, Hannah stops listening. Then her attention is drawn to one of the pockets of her father’s shorts, which confuses her for a moment, until she feels herself lifted, as if weightless, into her dark place. Like a beacon, her mother’s cell phone hangs in the void. Focusing on the touch screen, she opens the directory, then scrolls down to
Kevin Cell
, and the fingers of her mind press SEND.

“Tell me what you’re doing?” she hears her father demand. The calm has left his voice. He’s losing his shit, and while that will make him more erratic, it will also make him less dangerous. Hannah’s mind is graced with this understanding unbidden. She’s also granted the knowledge that her mother’s situation is grim.

Let that go
, a distant voice warns.
Save your pain for when this is over.
He wants this to make you weak. He wants to destroy your resistance. Don’t let him win.

“Goddammit, Hannah,” he shouts, but she still can’t see him.

“Hello,”
she hears Kevin answer. “
Tina, are you there? Tina?”

“Talk to me,” her father pleads. “Come on, Hannah, cut this shit out and tell me what’s happening?”

“Tina?”

Her mind tunneling through the phone’s circuitry, Hannah thinks:
Kevin, we’re in trouble. My father has come for me, he’s done something to Mom. Call the police. Hurry! Hurry!

“Hannah,”
Kevin’s voice crackles,
“is that you? You sound strange. What the hell’s going on? Hannah? Han—”

He’s here, Kevin. Chet’s here!

“Goddammit, Hannah, I’m sick of this shit,” her father shouts.

Gravity returns, and Hannah feels herself lowered. She squeezes her eyes shut, then opens them, and she’s back in the house. Her father scowls at her, one hand clutching the knife’s blade. Blood seeps between his fingers.

Calmly, she says, “You promised you’d take me to Mom.” But the words don’t belong to her. Something else is in control now, guiding her voice, and she doesn’t resist. She can tell the force working within her is pure, here to help.

“Fine,” he barks, “but I need to know if I can trust you first. Can I
trust
you, Hannah?”

“Yes, of course you can. You can always trust me. I’ll protect you from the shadows, Daddy. I promise, I’ll protect you.”

Tears stream down his cheeks. “Please know, I didn’t want things to turn out this way. I didn’t
want
to do what I had to, but sometimes there’s no other choice.”

“Of course there isn’t, Daddy. Survival never comes easy.”

“Oh, Hannah. Thank you, sweetie. Thank you. I knew you’d understand. I knew you couldn’t betray me. You’re all I’ve got.”

“I was just talking to Agnes,” her mouth informs him. “She told me to tell you, she loves you. That’s what I was doing before, when you got mad.”

He lets the knife fall to the floor, then throws his arms around her, squeezing her tight. As she releases all control to the spirit within her, Hannah’s arms wrap around him. His stench enfolds her, and she wants to pull away, to run…

But the soothing voice in her head warns:
Stay strong.

The spirit asks, “Did you kill Mom?”

“Yes, sweetie,” he weeps. “Are you…are you mad at me?”

Inside, Hannah falls apart. Visions of her mother—smiles, snuggles, putting Band-Aids on scratches and cuts—flash through her mind.

“Did you have a choice?” the spirit asks.

“I didn’t. I swear…I didn’t,” he pleads.

“Then I’m not mad at you, Daddy. I could never be mad at you.”

“You were supposed to see her the moment you came in the door. I wanted you to say good-bye. I know she meant a lot to you. But just like a rabid dog, she had to be put down so she couldn’t hurt you anymore. Do you…do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“Do you want to see your mommy now?” he asks.

“No,” the spirit says, “not yet. There’s a man who wants to take your place. He tried to trick me into loving him instead of you. He’ll be here soon, and I want you to kill him for me. Once he’s dead, then I’ll be ready to say good-bye to Mom. I can tell her how she hurt me, and I can tell her what’s become of the filthy man she cheated on you with.”

“I understand,” he says.

As Hannah coils deep within her own consciousness, hatred blooms eternal for her father, and she damns herself for not killing him when she had the chance. All she had to do was smash a stupid figurine, but her sense of right and wrong wouldn’t let her. Shades of gray now shift through her mind. And she knows what she must do.

She takes control.

Letting go of her father, she takes a step backward. “Actually, Daddy, I’d like to kill Kevin myself, if you don’t mind.” These words she chooses, but she doesn’t own them. She doesn’t need to own them to say them, because, she realizes, her intentions are pure, not delusional, like his.

“Do you think you can?” he asks. “It won’t be easy.”

“I know, but you’ll be here to help me if I need you. Kevin is fat, and he’s weak, and he
trusts
me. He won’t see it coming.”

“But maybe he should see
me
coming,” he says. “I’ll scare the shit out of him. It’ll be fun.”

Hannah’s hatred rises, but she struggles to suppress outward emotion. Here he stands, talking about murdering for fun, grinning like a child, when only moments earlier he wept for the wife he’d murdered. She wants to seize the knife from the floor and drive it into his cold, murderous heart, but she can’t. The time isn’t right, and the strength advantage belongs to him.

“Please, Daddy,” she says.

He bends down and snatches the knife from the floor, and Hannah’s pulse quickens. His moves are impossible to predict, his motivations out of order, and she fears her nerves are showing, betraying her, letting him catch the scent of her ploy. Part of her expects he will slash her throat before she can react.

When he turns the handle toward her, she takes it in her tremulous hands.

“You’re scared, aren’t you?” he says.

“Yes,” she admits, “but…but I know this is right.” She moves to the door and gazes through the peephole.

“What are you doing?” her father asks.

“Waiting,” she says. “Watching…watching for his car.”

It looks like any other day outside. A man jogs on the dirt track that circles the park. Birds flit from tree to tree. A van passes, then another vehicle. But no sign of police presence. No Kevin. She wonders if he had been able to understand her, if he got the message.

“Won’t you hear him when he pulls in?” her father asks. There’s more than a trace of suspicion in his voice, and her grip on the knife handle tightens.

Before she can answer, a police cruiser enters her limited periphery, pulling into the driveway. Less than a second later, another cruiser follows the first.

“Did you hear me, Hannah?” His anger’s returning now.

She spins to face him, staring into his cold, hard eyes.

Now!
a voice echoes through her mind.

Hannah shouts, “Turn away!” Then she twists the handle and yanks the door open. Fast as her feet will carry her, she runs toward the police, dropping the bloody knife on the lawn. Doors emblazoned with SPD shields shoot open, and a uniformed officer—a deep look of concern on her young face—reaches for her sidearm, her other hand in the halting gesture of a crossing guard. Guns are drawn, officers swarming into tactical stances, like cops on television, but Hannah can tell they aren’t aiming their weapons at her. Then the female officer’s eyes widen in shock, and that’s when Hannah turns back to the house.

The thing on the walkway only half resembles her father. The rest of him—a gray, shapeless blob. His pained visage sinks into the darkening jumble of ooze that he’s become, then the quivering mass starts shrinking.

Police radios squelch. Official commands are shouted. But Hannah understands none of what’s said. Her mission stands clear. She takes a deep breath, and—

“Stop! Come back!” the female officer warns, Hannah racing in the direction of her father’s dwindling form. Footfalls thunder behind her, but still she runs.

Looking down, she leaps onto the porch, and sees what her father has become.

A cockroach.

A strong hand grasping her shoulder, she raises her foot above the bug, which begins to scurry—

Thud!
Her foot slams down hard, rattling the porch’s floorboards.

Then she’s pulled into the arms of a barrel-chested man. Through the crook of his arm, she spies Kevin’s SUV behind a wall of cruisers. Red and blue flashers spin. Onlookers gather in the park, the collective curiosity of their gazes locked on the scene.