The Misadventures of Daria Pigwidgeon (33 page)

Unfortunately for me and my need, the parking lot is sans red mustang,
i.e.
Chance.

I give the parking lot a once over on the possibility that I’m getting blind in my old age, but nope, still empty.

Dammit.

On my third once over, Toby notices my dilemma and gives me one of his pitying looks.

No. Wait. Not pity…guilty?

Why is he…?

Rubbing the back of his neck, he looks away. “Ugh, my bad, earlier when your friend came by you had a phone call I was supposed…to tell you about.”

He pauses. I seethe.

“Chance called to tell you that he was having some sort of car trouble and would be a little late.” He
tries
to offer me a smile. “Sorry I forgot, really, I thought he’d be here by now. I could give you a ride though, if you wanted? Would you…like a ride I mean?”

I swear if the boy blushed any more, he’d be visible from space. Clearly he
forgot
to tell me about the phone call. He’s been trying to get a ride out of me for a while now. I feel bad not taking him up on the offers, really I do, but there is something I just can’t put my finger on about him. Maybe it’s the size of him. He is a little intimidating, if you don’t see him blush.

I shake my head. “Nah, thank you, but no…if Chance is coming, then I should wait. I wouldn’t want to miss him.”

He gives me a funny look.

“Right, you wouldn’t want that…”

I nod with a bright smile. He shakes his head, and then looking rather put out he shambles over to his car. I watch as he climbs in, pulls out, and drives away from my line of sight. It’s just me then, all alone in the cold, dark, snowy, empty parking lot. Wow, I’ve had my moments of idiocy but this really tops the cake. Regret weighs on my decision of staying to wait. I contemplate taking a seat, but then glance behind me to the small sidewalk that surrounds the building. It does not look inviting.

And neither does the snow.

Screw it. I’m out of here, like yesterday. Not without protection though…I’m not stupid…well, usually.

I quickly close my eyes and slow down my erratic breathing. I have to do what I’ve been doing since I was a baby, but it’s been a while since I looked for it. Thankfully, it’s not long before I feel the pull at my feet. It feels like the very ground wants to suck me down into oblivion. It feels stronger somehow, but I know it’s weaker than me. I take that pull and suck it up into myself, until my head is filled with fog. Its tendrils tickle my thoughts, begging and urging me to ignore its touch. As tempting as it is, I know better.

I push it back, but not enough that it leaves entirely.

Then I search until I feel the pull that is always waiting all around me. The air is suddenly filled with a tornado like strength as if it wants to sweep me off my feet. I know without having to look that no one will ever feel what I feel at this moment, the wind is only for me. It’s strong like the fog, no, stronger. But I’m stronger. I quickly yank it into myself. A warm breeze surges forward and coats the inside of my body. It fills me with a peace I’ve never felt outside of its grasp. Like the fog, it begs and urges me to forget everything except the comfort it offers.

This is always tempting for me, wanting to be the one to forget. Or at least, it used to be.

Gathering myself, I push the breeze back a little so that it merges with the fog. Together they dance inside me - giving the illusion that I’m more powerful than I am. This is the worst kind of temptation, because in the wake of all the power, I really feel like I could bring the entire world to their knees. It’s dangerous this feeling. But I know it’s a lie. I could barely knock a fly to its knees let alone the world. But then I sense it. The little voice inside that is my soul. It tells me all this power is nothing but a lie. It tells me to control it before I’m lost.

I listen to that voice, I have to.

I wrap the breeze like fog that is my memory block around me like a security blanket. My soul sighs inside me in contentment. We feel safe together – strong and prepared - for anything that might come looking for trouble. I’d actually like to see them try. That is if they could find me. I may not have a super kickass demon power, but disappearing does have its benefits, like now for example. My eyes open in a blink. Nothing has changed. That’s a good sign.

With hurried steps I cautiously make my way out of the dark parking lot. I have to catch myself a couple of times from slipping in puddles of slush, but as a complaint, that one’s not so bad. I’m halfway home and feeling pretty confident in myself, when my legs lock up and I go still. Somehow I’ve gotten myself in the middle of the road. And somehow there are no cars about to run me over. If anything, there is a lack of something other than my observation skills.

Wait. Why am I even in the road? I don’t remember stepping into the street. And why is that my legs are refusing to move me out of here? Pulling my memory block tighter around me, I scan the night. Nothing strange sticks out at first. The street is empty - quiet and unmoving. No. Wait. Scratch that. There is movement. From all around me there are shadows taking a life of their own and converging.

I’ve seen them do that before. I know what it means.

I’m no longer alone.

My first instinct is to flex my memory block outward at whatever is coming and get the heck out of here. But where would I direct my ability? Shadow’s does not a body make, and they’re everywhere. How did they even find me? Clearly my soul and I being an unbeatable team against danger is an illusion after all. I seriously need to have a heart to heart with myself after this.

Feeling slightly emasculated, I finally regret not hitting up Toby for that ride earlier.

Dammit.

Legs quivering in place I try to force my feet to listen to my demands of getting away. They remain immobile. And when my inner Taser churns to life inside me, I know I’m screwed. The taste of ozone hits the back of my tongue. It tells me that something is coming. This rings true in the next instant as an electrical charge surges all along my limbs causing them to quiver in fear. I shake fuzzy head. I can’t just stay here. I have to move. Now.

But I
can’t
.

My fear keeps me frozen. No.
The
fear keeps me frozen, the very same one that has been following me around lately. It feels like I can’t even form rational thought, even though I know I have to. It’s stronger this time too. Somehow it had managed to stop me in the street before I could even feel its presence. Not to mention that it felt me here to begin with. I shake my head again and try to move. A frustrated cry pours out of me when I remain in place. My stomach rolls as waves of fear course through me. Chills spread outward and inward at the same time. It makes me feel weak and very terrified.

I know I’m stronger than this. I
have
to be stronger than this. But the urge to give up weighs heavily on me. A fog similar to my own memory block pushes at me. My head feels full. My body feels full. Suddenly all I want is to lay down right here in the middle of the road and go to sleep. It actually sounds pretty reasonable. I have been through a lot the last couple of months, years really, if I’m being honest. Some rest would help make me feel better. In fact, I know it would make me feel better. It’s so simple really. Why shouldn’t I?

I can feel my control slip away. No ozone scented Taser in sight for protection, as it too leaves me, I’m weak.

My eyes close without having to be urged to do so. I’m so tired. All the waning strength of my memory block fades away on a breeze until I’m left alone. I’m bone tired now. My head aches. I feel myself lower to the cold wet ground and I wonder if this is the end, if this will become what Chance saw. Oddly, I feel cheated. Where’s all the pooling red blood? The thought seeps away as fog penetrates my mind, nothing matters but falling into the waiting shadows.

I’m seconds away from being consumed when I hear someone approaching.

No. Wait.

Make that three someone’s approaching.

Their footfalls will reach me in a matter of seconds and I don’t even know what to think. They could very well be the thing that has been stalking me. Or it could be someone that could help, although I don’t have high hopes of that. They will be too late. And by too late I mean too late for me to witness. I can feel it in my bones - the loss of myself - it presses down like a corporeal form laying on me. It’s coming. It’s…

***

…whispering for me to let go.

The need to obey is strong. I feel myself letting go inch by weakening inch. My soul cries out for me to snap out of it. I want to listen I really do. For a moment a little clarity rises up within me, but then the fog pressing on me and flexes its great muscled form. It tightens around my body and mind. The sensation wakes up my sleeping inner Taser and a rush of electric charges over my body. I cry out in garbled gasps as my body convulses. Wetness seeps into my back from the cold from the snow. But it’s a small worry because the presence on me presses at me again. It’s weight is heavy and too real.

The fog takes over my mind, the convulsions inside take a pause, but it allows me a window of freedom.

My eyes open.

Just in time to watch as three figures step out through the darkness. Their identities are lost to the shadows that have me surrounded. But I can see their blurry movements. The largest of the three is clearly the ring leader, it’s evident by the way he places himself before the others. My eyes are drawn to his outstretched hands and widen in surprise. There is steam pouring off of them in waves. It coats the air as it moves towards me and if I look close enough I can almost see it stretch out over an invisible presence that hovers over me. I don’t have time to wonder about that, because as I watch, the smaller two figures come into view. Close enough that I can feel the tendrils of their power reaching out to me. It tastes of a mixture containing hatred and a little bit of breathlessness. The familiarity of the power fills me with giddiness, making the fog within me hesitant. I think I know who found me.

I’m not the only one, because the thing lying on me lets out an eerie sounding hiss.

Then it tightens around me.

This time I scream.

The phantom presence presses into me again, and with it comes unadulterated fear. The screams die in my throat - leaving me gasping for a breath that is too far out of reach – and my body is pressed into the road. The urge to curl into myself ranks pretty high on my to-do list, but my limps refuse to respond to my needs. Instead they lay in torture as the reemerging fog coats my mind once more. My brief window of freedom slips from my grasp. A pulling sensation takes over my thoughts, I can feel myself fading, but at the moment I don’t think I care anymore.

Unfortunately or fortunately depending on how you want to look at it, I don’t have a choice in the matter, because I forgot about one important thing. I’m not alone. There are three figures out there to help me – to protect me. All I have to do is hang on a little longer. And as soon as the thought enters my mind, I realize there is more going on around me than within me. But that could just be the sudden heat that registers across my frozen body or the hiss that hits my ears in the next instant. Voices call out in warning, but they’re meaning is lost as I finally get enough breath to scream.

My entire body is filled with a boiling heat and I’m pretty sure I can smell my hair burning. The loud hissing is almost as loud as my screams. It must be burning too. I can feel it clinging to me as if trying to ignore it. But I can’t ignore it. Everything in me begs for the pain to stop. I’m almost passed the point of caring when it finally stops. And so is the presence on me. The startling lightness on my chest and mind sends me gasping upright. I don’t stay that way though. My body spasms as I fall back to the cold wet ground.

I lay motionless, weak, and a little broken.

A warm hand on my cheek makes me let out a startled scream.

Above me looking to weary for words, is my father. His light eyes probe me, searching for something I can’t quite grasp. Movement flickers over his shoulder and I see my brothers with his similar likeliness also harboring the same weary look. It takes me a moment to realize that they are all trying to talk to me. When I do, sound is all can hear, and it hurts.

“Daria, are you all right? Can you move?” my dad says, face now so close to mine.

“She doesn’t look too hot dad. Something is wrong.” Landon states.

Logan snorts. “More like she is too hot, don’t you see that smoke coming off of her? Scary stuff that.”

“Boys, please refrain from acting like imbeciles, just keep an eye on the road would you.”

My eyes refuse to leave my fathers. Something in them tell me I am as bad off as I feel. And if the way I feel completely outside myself, then it’s not good. He’s worried. I don’t remember a time he’s ever been worried over my behalf. Should I be glad about this new turn of events? I don’t know. I think I hurt too much to care. My eyes start to close. Another warm hand is placed on my other cheek and together they squeeze me back into focusing on my father again.

“Daria, dear, I need you to stay awake for me. Can you do that? We really need to get you off this street before things go back to normal. It won’t be safe for much longer.”

My mouth opens to tell him I don’t know if I can do that, but all that comes out is a whimper. Convulsions take over my body again and the whimper becomes a cry. Tears fall out of my eyes and seep into my fathers hands. He swears something unrecognizable under his breath and before I know it I’m lifted off of the ground and up into his arms. He’s surprisingly gentle with me. The movement doesn’t even jar me too much. I can’t help noticing that this is also the first time he’s ever held me, like a father protecting a child.

It’s nice.

Or it would be if he didn’t start moving us at a quick pace. This movement I feel. My head throbs and a tight pressure squeezes my chest, constricting my already shallow breathes. Just when I think I’m about to have enough air to scream, he stops. He wraps one arm tighter around me as he releases the other to open a car door. As he eases me into the seat I wonder where the car came from. I certainly don’t remember hearing it approach earlier. Granted I was a little preoccupied, so who knows. Twin sets of footsteps approach us and my father hastily stands to face them.