Heaven's Key (Demon Hunter Book 1) (14 page)

“I can’t promise miracles, but I will try.”

I wasn’t going to press my luck. This was almost too good to be true. I was going inside while the going was good. Mom very seldom gave an inch and I was going to take what I could. Before I headed to my room, I looked back to see my dad with this goofy grin on his face, giving me a very corny thumbs-up. My family was so weird.

I would never admit this to Mom or Dad, but I needed some down time and being home let me relax. I loved Lena, but she was very kinetic and that could be tiring. I loved school, but it came with a lot of stress and pressure. This weekend at home was filled with none of those things. I might never want to live here, but it was a nice place to visit.

I helped Mom make her pies and the stuffing for the turkey, which made her happier than a pig in shit. The house smelled amazing all weekend as my body recharged itself on homemade healthy food, something it had been starving for since I had started school. I napped a lot and wasn’t even made to feel guilty about it. Dad and I watched TV and played crib. I went through all the clothes I had left at home and made a Goodwill bag. I even did a little studying. It was busy, but I enjoyed it. It was nice to be taken care of.

Sunday came and I wasn’t even antsy to get back to the city. I was looking forward to turkey and everything that came with it. Cooking was a talent that had been passed down from mother to daughter in my family. I didn’t get a chance to do it too often, but I knew all the family recipes. Mom’s opinion was that everyone had to eat, and if you didn’t know how to cook, you were a fool. I was about to come downstairs to see if Mom needed any help, when the doorbell rang. I waited at the top of the stairs. I wanted to make sure it was someone I wanted to see before I made my entrance.

Mom was talking, but I didn’t recognize the other voice. It sounded like a kid. Curiosity got the better of me and I had to come down and investigate. Standing in the doorway was a scrawny teenager with dirty hair and clothes. He looked about fourteen. It was hard to tell because he looked so malnourished.

Our stretch of road was a cell phone dead zone, so we often had stranded motorists coming to our door, asking to use our phone. This kid didn’t even look old enough to drive. Something was off about him; I just couldn’t put my finger on it. He made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. I supposed he looked innocent enough, but I was still going to keep an eye on him.

Mom noticed I was standing beside her. “Oh, good; you’re up. Cass, this is Ian. He needs to use the phone. Can you show him? I need to check the turkey.”

I looked him up and down. He seemed unfazed by my death stare. I didn’t know if that was good or bad. Walking in the middle of nowhere during the coldest day in October I could remember still seemed fishy. I walked to my dad’s study. “In there, kid.”

“I’m not a kid,” he bristled.

“Okay, old man, the phone is there on the desk.” This Ian had some attitude for someone who needed a favor.

He walked over and looked down. Amusement crossed his thin face. “Seriously, a dial phone?”

I shrugged. “Mom and Dad don’t believe in replacing things until they break. It will likely be part of my inheritance along with the harvest gold stove in the kitchen.” I turned around and walked out to give him some privacy. I went to see if Mom needed my help.

She looked like an evil scientist going from pot to pot stirring, tasting, seasoning. Without looking up, she motioned for me to hand her the flour. “Will you set the table? Set a place for Ian, just in case his dad can’t pick him up right away.”

“Mom, we don’t know this kid. Plus, he stinks.”

“Not everyone has a mother who does their laundry, Cassandra.”

She had me there. I walked back to the study to find Ian staring at the phone, his small hand combing through his greasy hair. I narrowed my eyes like that might help me figure him out. “So, what are you doing walking out here in the middle of nowhere?”

“I had a fight with my dad and I stormed out, but freezing my ass off has brought me to my senses.”

I gave him my most skeptical look, but he still looked me right in the eye. “I can sympathize. Why don’t you go freshen up before supper? You kind of stink.”

“Well, you’re kind of a bitch.”

“True, but that isn’t likely to change before supper. However, if you use a little soap and water, I’ll be able to enjoy my meal without having to block out your stench.”

He shrugged and walked to the room I was pointing at. If he found a way to at least tone down his smell and I set his place by Mom, then I should be able to get through supper without needing to retch.

The little runt was coming out of the bathroom when Mom called us for supper. “Cassie, can you come carry stuff to the table, sweetheart?”

Sweetheart? That one was for the guest. Mom did not throw around terms of endearment. I walked into the kitchen as my father was sharpening his carving knife. It was the size of a small machete, definitely overkill for a turkey. He used it every Thanksgiving and Christmas. I guess it was the official Myles carving knife.

“Here are the rolls and mashed potatoes. Let’s get this show on the road before everything gets cold.” She shoved the food at me and pushed me towards the dining room.

Ian was already at the table. He was playing with his utensils, but I noticed his hands were now grime free. “You should have seconds, kid; you are too scrawny.”

He stiffened at the mention of his weight. “I can’t help it. I eat all the time.”

How many women would like that problem? I guessed the little guy wasn’t that bad. I kind of felt sorry for him. My mouth started to water as Dad proudly carried in the turkey; he was in his glory. Man cut meat for family. Man is complete.

“Be careful, Tony. That knife is sharp.”

Ha ha, saw that coming. Rise above father.

Dad ignored her and started the carving. The bird was oozing juicy goodness. This meal would be epic. My stomach was screaming for just one tiny taste. I had to use extreme willpower not to steal the first piece from the platter. My parents had been buying free-range birds way before it was hip. I don’t know why extra exercise made the bird so tasty, but it did.

“Jesus H. Christ.” He pulled his hand back and it was dripping with blood. The turkey was turning pink and my stomach went from hungry to nauseated.

Clucking her disapproval, Mom got up to investigate. She was irritated. “I told you to be careful.” You can’t say she didn’t warn you, Daddy Dearest.

“Jesus, Bern, do you think I sliced open my hand just to piss you off?” He was mad at her, but he still held out his wound for her inspection.

“Let me see.” After investigating, she wrapped her napkin around the wound and got him to apply pressure. “This is bad. I think we may have to get you stitched.”

Dad was about to argue, when a crash at the other end of the table brought everyone’s attention to Ian. The poor kid was clutching his stomach, beads of sweat running down his face. Mom left Dad to tend to her other charge. She was in her glory. Mom loved a crisis and she was surrounded.

“Are you okay, sweetie?” She leaned over him with motherly concern plastered all over her face.

He looked up at her. Tears were streaming down his face. It made him appear even younger. “It hurts too much; I can’t control it.” Ian’s eyes were pleading, like Mom had the ability to make it all go away.

She was about to embrace him when the bottom fell out of my world. Sad green eyes and imploring lips contorted into a mask of horror. Fangs lowered from his upper jaw as his eyes bulged and reddened. Childlike desperation gave way to feral determination. His face thinned until he was little more than skull and skin. Mom started to back away, terror keeping her eyes glued to the monster in front of her. He lunged at her like a wild animal. Claws extended from his slim fingers in mid-flight. He used them to cling to her as they both fell to the floor.

A look of pure ecstasy passed over his face as he clung to my mother’s side. She struggled to throw him off, but it only made him dig in more. He worked his way up her body, tearing and ripping as he went until he reached her neck. Fangs and claws worked in unison to make the wound. His mouth clamped to her neck like a starving baby at the breast. The sickening sucking noises echoed around the small room. I wanted to run or at least turn away, but it felt like I was watching everything from someone else’s eyes, someone who wanted to witness every last gory detail.

A cry caught in my throat as I saw my Mom reach for my father. Dad’s chair went flying as he ran to her. Everything was in slow motion, but I knew he couldn’t move fast enough to stop that creature from ripping and sucking her life away. Dad stopped and turned to me. His hand came up and pointed at the door. He was trying to scream something, but the only thing that came out was blood.

I didn’t understand what had happened until Ian’s face came up over my father’s shoulder like some macabre specter, blood and bits of flesh sticking to his face. Dad was still standing. His brain didn’t realize half of his neck was gone and it was time to fall down. Somewhere in my mind, I was screaming, “Run, you idiot, run.” At some point, I did stand, my back against the wall, unable to go any further as I watched the creature in front of me finish his gruesome task.

My mother lay on the floor. Her neck was twisted at an impossible angle and her side was shredded by the claws that kept her from getting away. She was clearly dead, but I still watched her chest, willing it to move, pleading in my head for any sign of life.

Dad finally fell to the floor, leaving Ian standing before me, his chest heaving, his eyes locked on mine. I was next. He would come for me and I would let him because I was too stupid to move. Then, everything changed again. I watched as he went from monster back to boy. His young innocent face looked more horrific covered in gore. I wanted the monster back. I didn’t want this sad boy to be responsible for what had happened.

The adrenaline drained from my body and my legs turned to rubber. I slumped to the floor. Ian stumbled towards me. I closed my eyes, not wanting to see my own death. His body fell on mine and his small hands gently stroked my cheeks. My eyes opened to see him looking at me, blood tears spilling down his face. When his arms slipped around my neck, I waited for his teeth to sink in. He was crying uncontrollably and hard to understand. In between jagged breaths, he chanted “sorry” over and over again.

What was the protocol when the creature that murders your parents seeks solace and forgiveness? When I looked into his face, I didn’t care. I wrapped my arms around his tiny frame and pulled him into my chest. He immediately relaxed under my touch. We rocked back and forth, clinging to each other while the blood dried and the sun sank into the ground.