Fractured (7 page)

“Sorry about that,” Ian said. “He’s an idiot, obviously.”

“What are you guys doing out here?” I asked, eyeing the paintball gun.

Greg held up another weapon, one I sincerely hoped fired pellets or paintballs and not bullets. “We’re hunting the Animal Guy!”

“Huh,” said Jim. “So are we.”

Ian’s eyes grew wide. “You are?”

“He’s just kidding,” I snapped, wanting to punch Jim in the throat. “We’re visiting some of my friends in the neighborhood.”

Aden raised his head from the mailbox. “In this neighborhood? What are they, Kings or MS-13? Come on, Lela. You can tell us.” He rested his head on his arms and continued to giggle.

“Are you serious?” groaned Ian. “Dude. Shut.
Up
.”

I let out a slow breath through my nose. “You guys really think you’re going to find one of those Animal Guys around here?”

Ian rolled his eyes, but the others nodded.

“And you’re going to … what? Bring it down with a paintball gun?”

While the other three shouted things like “Fuck, yeah,” Ian dropped his face into his hands, his fingers tugging the front of his beanie down like he wanted to hide inside it.

“Listen,” I said to Ian. “Aden’s right about one thing: this isn’t a great area if you don’t know it well, and right now you guys are drawing a lot of attention to yourselves. The cops are out looking for vigilantes, too, so maybe you could go hunt somewhere else. Like back in Warwick.”

His hands fell away from his face. “She’s right, guys. This was a dumb idea. Come on. Car’s this way.” He grabbed the back of Aden’s coat and hauled him off the mailbox. As he herded his drunk friends back toward the corner, he looked over his shoulder at me. “Are you going to be okay?” His gaze flicked to Jim.

I forced myself to step closer to my Guard partner. “Yeah, totally. See you on Monday.”

He sighed. “See you.”

As soon as he turned his back, I grabbed Jim’s sleeve and marched in the opposite direction, cursing under my breath.

“You didn’t even introduce me,” said Jim, amusement in his voice. “And I think the tall guy was jealous.”

“Shut up,” I barked. “And don’t ever touch me again.”

He chuckled. “Hey, I was only trying to help.”

I clenched my teeth and kept walking, barely looking where I was going, nearly twisting my ankle as I stepped off a curb and into a cross street. Jim watched me stumble with a smirk, and I was about to snap at him again when he said in a low voice, “There’s someone in that park up ahead,” pointing toward the end of the street.

We quickened our pace and headed for the park. Once again, I sniffed deeply, and this time, I caught the faintest scent of incense, so faint I thought maybe I was imagining it. “Where did you see—” I started to ask but then heard hooting laughter coming from a stand of trees about ten yards away. The sound made everything inside me tense; I’d never heard any human make a noise like that. It sounded more like a hyena … and
exactly
like a Mazikin. I touched Jim’s shoulder and held my finger to my lips.

We crept toward the laughter, which was intermixed with the sound of crinkling and thuds. I pressed myself against a tree and tried to catch sight of the creature, but all I could see was a pair of legs surrounded by debris. I leaned forward as much as I dared and caught the slope of a spine, with a long braid trailing down its center. Someone was squatting next to the legs. Hooting and grunting as she rummaged, tossing dented cans and paper packages over her shoulder.

Jim moved in close behind me, making me want to elbow him again. “Is that one of them?” he whispered.

“I think so,” I breathed.

“How do we find out?”

“We wait and watch.”

The creature continued to paw through the junk. Jim sighed impatiently. “Or we could just ask.” He stepped away from me before I could grab him. “Hey!” he called. “Are you a Mazikin?”

The woman with the braided hair pivoted sharply as she heard that last word, bringing her into full view. Her face was streaked with dirt, and her chin was smeared with blood. She growled as Jim jogged forward. “Mazikin,” she said in a harsh voice.

“Jim, stop!” I yelled. He ignored me.

Before I could decide which of them I’d rather kill, they both took off, Jim sprinting after the woman.

“I’ll get her!” Jim shouted.

“No!” I yelled, running after them. The woman was headed for an intersection with a traffic light. Well lit. Full of witnesses if Jim tried to take her down, witnesses who would only see a woman being attacked. Just past that intersection was a gas station, with a few cars filling up. The female Mazikin looked over her shoulder and smiled a gap-toothed, chilling smile.

“Jim!” I cried out, right as the Mazikin screamed, in a very human voice, “Help me! Don’t let him hurt me!”

A middle-aged bald guy and an older guy in a red scarf, who had both been standing by their cars beneath the gas station overhang, looked up and noticed our little drama unfolding in front of them. The Mazikin darted into the intersection as both men started forward.

Jim slowed enough for me to tackle him from behind. It didn’t knock him off his feet, but he finally stopped running when I landed on his back. “You idiot,” I said into his ear. “Come on. We have to—”

“Get
off
me.” He shoved me away so hard that I nearly fell on my ass. “I almost had her!” He began to run again. Stunned at his complete disregard of my orders, I followed but couldn’t close the distance before he made it across the street.

“Hey!” shouted the bald guy as the Mazikin sprinted toward the older man who protectively opened his arms to receive her. She sobbed loudly while he examined her bloody mouth and wiped at it with his scarf.

“Did you hit her?” he barked at Jim.

“No,” he replied, stopping a few feet away, “but I’m about to.”

“No, you won’t!” I shouted, finally catching up. The bald guy was dialing his cell phone. This was so far out of control that my head was spinning.

“Miss, I’ve got this handled. You should probably stay away from him,” the old man said to me. “I’m going to take this young woman inside and help her get cleaned up.”

“The police are on the way,” called the bald guy, waving his phone at Jim.

Jim paid no attention. He lunged, clearly intending to attack the Mazikin. I threw myself in front of him, planted both hands on his chest, and pushed him backward. He made a move to shove me off again, and I lost it. I looped my hand around the back of his neck and jumped up, kneeing him in the stomach. “Stand down!” I yelled.

He let out a grunt and grabbed his abdomen, but straightened quickly. A siren wailed. Jim startled, looking around, and I slapped him across the face, desperately needing his attention. When his eyes locked on mine, I said in a low voice, “Jim, we have to go, unless you want to spend the night in a tiny holding cell.”

“Where you belong,” snapped the bald guy, still gripping his phone and watching us warily.

The violence in Jim’s eyes evaporated, replaced by fear. “A cell?”

Knowing the cops would arrive in mere seconds, I said clearly and slowly, “That’s what I said. Unless you run as fast as you can back to the car.”

It was the first order of the night that he actually followed.

As the bald guy shouted after us, we sprinted across the road, back through the scraggly trees and leaf-strewn brittle grass, past the pile of cans and packages the Mazikin had been going through. I slowed when I saw a homeless guy motionless on the ground. His hands and neck had been severely bitten, probably as he tried to keep the Mazikin from stealing all his worldly possessions and dragging him back to the nest. His cheeks were striped with claw marks, and his eyes were wide and fixed. He was dead.

I took off running again, catching up to Jim, and we fled through the side streets, block after block, until we made it back to the car. I pulled Jim down as a cop car streaked by, headed north, lights flashing and sirens blazing. Then I unlocked the doors and dove into the front while Jim climbed into the back. I caught my breath for a second and then fumbled with my phone, texting Malachi a rendezvous point several blocks south of our location. I trusted him to have a map of the area memorized already—at least I could depend on
him
.

“Wait, are we going back to the Station?” Jim said. “That’s so stupid! I thought we were supposed to be killing all of these Mazikin things. You let that one go!”

“Shut up!” I yelled, banging on the dashboard. “My God, do you not realize you could have gotten both of us arrested? Are you still drunk? Chasing a screaming woman through a populated area? Threatening to hit her in front of a bunch of witnesses? In complete violation of my orders! Don’t say another word, Jim. I fucking swear I’ll stab you if you do.”

The realization seemed to have sunk in. Jim wisely stayed silent as I drove us to the pickup spot. Malachi texted that he and Henry would be there, but it was still the biggest relief to see them standing at the curb. Henry slid into the backseat while Malachi folded himself into the front passenger seat. He sat back and put his seat belt on as I lurched onto the street, cutting off another car.

“What happened?” he asked.

I shook my head, knowing that I’d start yelling again if I tried to explain.

“We saw one,” Jim said from the back. “In a park. It had killed some old guy.”

I slowed down and drove more carefully, feeling Malachi’s eyes on my face. “But you didn’t follow the protocol,” he said.

My nostrils flared as I squeezed the steering wheel … much like I wanted to be squeezing Jim’s neck. Malachi touched my arm. “Are you hurt?”

“No.” I had a feeling if I mentioned the way that Jim had shoved me, Malachi would gut him.

My Lieutenant pivoted in his seat. “You violated her orders, didn’t you?” he asked in a deadly calm voice.

“I chased it,” Jim said defensively.

“That’s insubordination,” Malachi snarled. “You might have alerted the Mazikin to our presence in the area. And you endangered our Captain.”

I reached for Malachi’s hand, which was clenched in a tight fist. It loosened slightly at my touch.

“She’s fine,” Jim mumbled.

“No thanks to you, it seems,” said Henry. “Jim, your actions affect more than just yourself. We all have to help each other, or else someone’s going to get killed.”

Jim punched the ceiling of the car. “Shut up!”

“This isn’t the first time you’ve disobeyed orders,” Malachi guessed. “I would bet that it is not the first time you’ve endangered another Guard either.”

“Stop!” Jim shouted, a frantic edge in his voice. “You don’t know anything about me!”

We were slowing down for a red light when Jim threw the door open and jumped out. I slammed on the brakes. Jim was a mess as he stumbled onto the sidewalk, his eyes red-rimmed, his chest heaving. He hesitated for a moment, staring back at me, and then turned on his heel and sprinted away.

“He may be able to outrun us,” Henry said quietly. “But there’s no way that kid can outrun all his demons.”

SIX

WE SPENT NEARLY FOUR
hours driving around town looking for Jim before we gave up and headed back to the Station. Although I’d hoped for some time alone with Malachi, we were all exhausted and down after losing one of our Guards, and I left to go back to Diane’s with nothing but a squeeze of his hand and a lingering stare that made me wish we were regular kids without the weight of the world on our shoulders.

I fell into bed at two and got up at seven even though it was a Saturday, eager to shed my dreams of being locked in a car with Jim, who was driving the wrong way on I-95, steering our car toward the headlights of an oncoming semi. I showered and sat at the breakfast table, letting my cereal get soggy as I scrolled through not one but three texts from Ian that had come in after I’d sunk into a heavy, exhausted sleep.

2:17 a.m.: Got yr number from Teg. Aden ran off. Seen him? Plz lemme no

2:29 a.m.: Still in area? Cant find Aden. Msg me if u have ideas where to look

3:34 a.m.: Found him. Sry for bothering u

I was glad he’d found Aden, but had to wonder what kind of shape our star pitcher would be in this morning when we all showed up to volunteer at the homeless shelter.

Keys jangled at the front door and Diane walked in, her footsteps heavy. “Hi, baby. You’re up early,” she said in a weary voice.

“Morning. Quiet shift?”

She made a so-so gesture and shed her jacket; then she headed for the kitchen.

“Hey,” I called, shoving my phone in my pocket. “I need to ask you something. I want to go to this volunteer thing with Tegan this morning.”

She smiled as she pulled a box of cereal from the cabinet. “She’s the friend who planned Nadia’s vigil, right?” I nodded. “What are you doing?”

I crossed my fingers under the table. “Going to a soup kitchen. We’re helping to serve meals.”

She froze. “A soup kitchen here in Warwick?”

I considered lying, but Diane knew the area really well, and she’d figure it out. “No, um … Pawtucket.”

Her smile evaporated as she closed the cupboard and turned to face me. “Haven’t we talked about this? I don’t want you in that area. Every night there are more sightings. I just heard that a homeless man was
mauled
to death by something last night, right around there!”

I shrugged even though my heart was beating really hard. “But all that stuff’s going on at night, and we’ll be there in the middle of the day. With a lot of other people. Doing good.”
And maybe spotting a Mazikin or two
. If they were really attacking the homeless, whether to possess their bodies or to steal their supplies, maybe a homeless shelter was the best place for the Guards to be.

Diane folded her arms over her chest. “Can’t you do good somewhere else?”

“Diane, I’m going to be with a group of other kids, surrounded by responsible adults. This shelter serves meals to people who are homeless.” I cleared my throat. “If it hadn’t been for you, I might have been on the streets, too. So maybe I’d like to give back.”