Demon Retribution (Shadow Quest Book 3) (5 page)

A harsh buzzing noise made her jump. Kyra
grabbed her phone off the table and slid her finger across the
screen.

“
Hey, Zo,” she
said.

A terrible sniffling was the only
response.

Her back straightened. “Are you okay? What
happened?”

An unintelligible sob echoed from the
speaker.

“
Where are you?”

While Kyra had been dealing with her
unwanted intruder, Zoey had been dealing with her worst
nightmare.

The hospital was like any other—cold,
impersonal, with a generally unnerving air about. At least that’s
what it felt like to Kyra.

Being able to witness the progression of
humanity was a unique experience, but a depressing one. The old
ways of caring for the sick used to be much more compassionate and
less…“sign here and have a seat.”

She found Zoey in the lobby, her face wet,
eyes burning with tears. Kyra took the seat to her right, giving
quiet comfort and waiting for her to decide what to do next. If she
wanted to sit here all day, then that’s what they would do.

After about twenty minutes, Zo muttered,
“I’m so tired.” The words were but a breath through her lips, so
low Kyra had barely heard.

“
Are you ready to go
home?”

Zo didn’t say anything. Her eyes had been
fixed on one spot for a while. Kyra was sure she wasn’t really
seeing anything, but finally she gave a single nod.

“
Is there anything you need
from her room?” Kyra didn’t want to say the word “Mom”, afraid it
would make Zo break down completely.

Zoey shook her head, a tear escaping down
one cheek.

The cab ride was quiet, and when they
reached their destination, Zoey blindly fished in her purse for
money. Kyra was quicker and handed a couple of twenties to the
driver, not really caring if she was due change.

Zoey’s apartment was on the first level, so
it wasn’t long before Kyra was helping her into bed. She asked a
series of yes or no questions because Zoey was only responding with
head movements. She wasn’t hungry, she wasn’t cold, she wasn’t hot,
she didn’t want music. Thankfully, she did accept a glass of
water.

“
I’m going to be right out
here, okay?” Kyra jerked her head toward the main room.

Nod.

Stepping out of the room, she closed the
door behind her and then made herself comfortable on the lumpy
secondhand couch. Her earlier sorrow over the loss of her fake life
seemed insignificant now, but still inevitable.

It was a despicable situation. She’d be
leaving Zoey during a rough time in her life. She could only hope
that Zoey didn’t turn to Kevin, for both comfort and financial
support. Kyra could see that happening, all too well. The hospital
bills had eaten away any savings Zo and her mom had put away, and
the girl was living on credit.

Kyra decided then that Zoey would receive a
generous gift from an anonymous benefactor. An unknown wealthy
uncle, or some forgotten family member recently deceased, but who
had been searching for their only known heir. It would take some
time to forge the documents and plant evidence of his existence,
but by this time it was par for the course.

Kyra spent most of the day rifling through
Zoey’s small book collection, flipping through channels, and
checking on her every so often. Late in the evening, Zoey stopped
crying, but she still wouldn’t eat. When Kyra found she’d finally
fallen asleep, hours after the sun had set, she went back to the
couch and closed her eyes.

Kyra woke to a warm hand on her shoulder.
Zoey perched on the arm of the couch.

“
Thanks for staying. You
didn’t have to, though.”

“
Whatever. Like I would
leave you alone at a time like this.” Kyra cringed at her own
words.

Zoey sighed. Her face was puffy and
stressed.

“
Do you need me to do
anything? Call anyone?”

“
No one to call,” she
replied dryly.

“
What about…arrangements?”
Kyra instantly regretted bringing it up so soon.

Renewed tears spilled from Zoey’s eyes. She
swallowed and pushed the words out. “Done. Mom insisted on getting
everything settled, just in case.” She paused on a silent sob.
“After what we went through with Dad…Well, she didn’t want to leave
me with that.” She took a heavy breath, and Kyra noticed how
exhausted her friend still looked. “So, she’ll be cremated, and
just wants…wanted to be spread somewhere exotic. Unfortunately, it
might be a while before I can afford to go anywhere.”

“
What, New York’s not
exotic? Tell me where else you can get a two dollar slice of pizza
and a ten dollar martini in the same meal?”

Zoey gave a clipped laugh, then stood and
traveled the few steps to the kitchen, before saying, “You can grab
a shower here if you need. I put a couple towels in there for
you.”

“
Sure. Thanks.” Kyra
flicked on the television and found a local news channel. If a body
had been found in the park it should have made the top
stories.

A newscaster baring a striking resemblance
to a plastic doll debated with a couple of businessmen about stock
market issues. Kyra put the volume on low.

Zoey dug through her cabinets. “I don’t have
much to eat here. I could make us some eggs or something.

“
I’m not a big breakfast
person, but thanks.”

“
Ah, I forgot. Well, I need
to eat something before work.”

“
I could work your shift
today, Zo. I’m sure everyone would understand if you took a few
days.”

“
I know they would,” she
replied from inside the fridge, “but I need the money.” She pulled
out a carton of eggs and set them on the counter, then produced a
skillet, shaking it in Kyra’s direction like some sort of
overbearing grandmother. “And don’t even suggest loaning me
anything.”

Kyra wouldn’t have used the word loan, but
she knew Zoey would be even less likely to take a handout.

Long lost uncle it
is
.

“
Today’s top stories,” the
woman on the screen chirped. “Could what you’re eating for lunch be
killing you? Find out, tonight at eleven. A preacher, caught
stealing? We’ll tell you
his
side of the story. And what are your kids really
learning in school? You might be surprised. We’ll be right back
with the top stories after the break.”

Kyra switched to another news station, only
to find that there was a new pill to balance the effects of some
other antidepressant drug. She gave up on the news and headed
toward the bathroom.

The water felt nice, relaxing. Zoey’s
shampoo was overly fragrant, but did the job. While she worked it
into her hair, she let her mind drift. It was obvious Zo was very
upset, which was to be expected, but she was holding it inside, and
probably, after today, wouldn’t let it out again. At least not in
front of anyone.

Cradling emotions was never healthy. Keeping
them caged, locked away, they fester and grow. Mutate. And
somewhere, nestled snugly in the dark backdrop of every mind, was a
seedy black corner where a gnarled troll throws them steroids like
Mardi Gras beads.

Then, without fail, after there’s no more
space inside, they find a crack in the foundation. Claw their way
out through muscle and bone.

It was a safe bet, however, that Zo’s
emotions, if left unchecked, wouldn’t cause a minor catastrophe.
Not in the way Kyra’s would.

When it was Zoey’s turn in the shower, Kyra
once again switched through the news channels, until the stories
started to repeat. Guess no one found a body yet. Or possibly he’d
made it to a hospital before bleeding out. Maybe her shots had been
off. She shuddered at the intruding thought. She had to admit,
she’d been pretty drunk. And it was hard not to consider that she’d
imagined him dropping five stories from her balcony.

A fall like that should have opened him like
a tomato.

Still, a whole day had passed, and no
news.

Okay, she thought. Maybe
this is a good thing. No body meant no authorities. No
investigation. No reason for her to run. Right? Except, if he
wasn’t dead, he might come back. Try again. Worse, find a new
target. She grimaced, remembering the athletic shape of his arms
and the strong build of his shoulders. At least she knew
she
could deal with him,
but others weren’t blessed with her heightened senses or strength.
If she left now and found that he’d lived to hurt another, the
guilt would follow her for years. At the same time, staying was a
risk.

She deluded herself into believing she was
actually pondering the decision, the whole time knowing her choice.
It really didn’t take a lot of convincing.

So, she’d stay and wait it out. Just a
little longer. Keeping an eye on the news, of course, in case
someone stumbled upon a body. That way she wouldn’t have to abandon
Zoey...for the moment.

When Zo left for Little Jitters, Kyra headed
back to her apartment. But instead of going right home, she took a
stroll through Central Park, stopping at her favorite spots—areas
where the greenery grew so thick she could hardly see past it to
the sky, and where the floral smells almost overpowered the diesel
filled air.

The earth crunched under her feet as she
went off path to a hidden rocky stairway. Next to it lay a small,
mossy pond surrounded by tall trees and a colorful arrangement of
flowers. The view was like something out of Alice in Wonderland,
only without all the giant mushrooms and death threats.

Her apartment came into view as she
continued on, enjoying her surroundings. It wasn’t too late in the
season. Still warm, yet no longer scorching. But hints of an early
autumn were already beginning to paint the leaves.

At the door of her apartment, she
experienced a split second of hesitation, and then went inside. It
was just as she left it. Suitcase, still half full, on the bed. The
bloody evidence of her intruder marked her floor and part of the
sofa. And her shirt from the night before, apparently. She picked
up the delicate fabric that she now recalled drunkenly flinging off
her body while staggering to bed.

“
Dammit!” She really liked
that shirt.

Red-brown splotches marked one arm and part
of the front. With a frown, she balled it up and tossed it in the
trash, then flicked on the news, putting the volume just high
enough so she could listen.

Rummaging under her sink, she found some
half used carpet and fabric cleaner, then set in to scrubbing the
mess.

Hours later she relented, and was left with
a broken pattern of wet dark spots. She would need to replace the
carpet.

Before she resigned to sleep, she checked
the locks on the balcony and main door. Then she slid the golden
chain into place for the first time since she’d moved in. After
hours of jerking awake at every little noise, she finally fell into
a deep sleep.

In the days that followed, Kyra began to
relax. Nothing popped up on the news, no one came knocking, and
there were no surprise visitors at four in the morning. She
remained hopeful that the man had perished on a hospital bed, and
it just wasn’t newsworthy information.

But it didn’t change the fact that she had
been in New York far too long. Maybe not now, but soon, she would
have to leave. Every time she thought about it, she’d push it from
her mind.

She’d started the process of “Operation
Uncle” and had already placed twenty grand in a series of safety
deposit boxes. On top of that, there would be stocks, bonds, and an
IRA. Kyra would make it so that Zoey’s great-great grandchildren
would be set for life.

She couldn’t really explain why she felt so
compelled to help Zoey, or why she’d allowed the friendship to
blossom to the point that it had. There had been a connection
between them that had been almost instant.

Kyra had attached herself to people before,
but not to this degree. Usually, an acquaintance, neighbor, or
partner in business would turn into a friend. For the most part, it
had been for show. The convenience of looking normal. Unlike Zoey,
the others had been easy to leave. There had been no thought of
their well-being or futures.

The only excuse she could provide was that
Zoey just felt like…family.

Kyra dressed for work and, as if she were
developing OCD, once again checked the locks before she left.

As she crossed the street, she couldn’t
shake a sense of unease, though there was no indication that
anything was off.

She had no idea that tonight, everything
would change.