Burning Emerald (21 page)
Authors: Jaime Reed
Haden went inside first and turned on lights as he inspected each room on the bottom floor. He pulled out his cell phone again and wandered into the kitchen. A few bags lined the hall leading to the stairs, items the brothers had brought with them while they watched over the place in shifts. Old newspapers, junk mail, and empty cereal boxes lay in the green recycling bin by the door.
Caleb's townhouse was spacious with a high ceiling, crown molding, and hardwood floors. However, the library of music piled in every available space distracted the eye. Somewhere within the pillars of vinyl were a couch, an entertainment unit, and an old-school turntable where he mixed his music. Every square inch of the house, each stain, each piece of furniture, told a story. But the deserted atmosphere now reminded me of a tomb, an airtight vault preserving Caleb's treasures.
I smiled at the weird weapon collection mounted on the wall: swords, daggers, crossbows, double-sided axes, all handcrafted in precious metal. My eyes fell on the longbow he'd used on Halloween, a time as ancient as when the weapon had been in fashion. It felt like ages ago, a waning dream I strained to recall, and this artifact produced memories of a past life.
A noise came from the second floor, creaking floorboards above. Haden was still in the kitchen, likely raiding the fridge.
I couldn't trust my eyes or my own judgment, so I asked Lilith, “Is Caleb here?”
She hummed and danced up my torso, a similar reaction to the one she had whenever she fed from Capone. The image of Caleb's face smiling down at me appeared behind my eyes. The feeling put me at ease for a moment and supplied me with enough nerve to proceed.
I crept up the stairs and inched toward the first room on the left. A light issued from under the door, an eerie glow that seemed to be the basis of every ghost story. Purple shafts of light speared through the cracks, putting me in the mindset of alien abductions and little green men. The noise that followed made the impression worse.
Babysitting my brother and sister had introduced me to that particular sound, the nimble pitter-patter of racing feet on the floor above. But there was no floor above, not even an attic space where a bird or squirrel could escape the cold.
I sucked in a deep breath, gathering both air and courage before opening the door. No sooner than I turned the knob, the brightness disappeared, casting me into darkness, save the soft light pouring from the window. My hand fished around the walls for a light switch, and found one that didn't work. The same was true for the light in the hall and the bathroom, but those on the bottom level guided my way up until this point. It could've been a short circuit or some other valid explanation, but paranoia ensured that logic had no business in this house.
I'd scarcely seen Caleb's room, and truth be told, I wasn't missing much. A dresser, two nightstands, and a wooden sleigh bed filled the space between the bare white walls. I tried my luck on the lamp on the small table and struck out, which forced me to rely on night vision. A ripped hospital gown, blackened with dirt, was slung over the footboard. I fingered the soiled material and noted how the body heat still lingered.
Muddy footprints on the carpet led me to the other side of the bed, ending in front of the window. Jumping out at the last minute would've been impossible, if the latch locking the closed sill was any indication. Unless he could dissolve through glass all of a sudden, this was a dead end. Nothing stirred outside, yet movement and activity hummed around me. He was here, but where? And why was he hiding?
“Caleb,” I called to what appeared to be open air.
I studied the footprints again and noticed more trailing up the walls. The heel and toe marks pointed upward, creating a walking pattern that defied gravity and reason. I followed the tracks, which faded upon reaching the ceiling.
“Didn't take you too long to find me,” he said. “It's not safe for you to be here.”
His voice left a delayed echo in the room, bouncing from one wall to the other. The light from the window didn't reach as far as I'd hoped, barely outlining edges of furniture. My eyes dragged across the dresser, the bed, the window, to a man squatting in the corner by the closet.
Perhaps squatting was not the right description, seeing as his feet by no means touched the floor. Instead, he perched catty-corner to the wall like a large bird; his head mere inches from the ceiling. His relaxed position told me he'd hung up there the entire time, watching me wade through the dark as an owl would a juicy rodent.
I should've been out of the house and halfway home by now. I should've raced downstairs, told Haden to pry his brother off the ceiling, gotten in my car, and dipped. But I couldn't take a step until I saw his face.
“Caleb?” I whispered.
The purple nimbus returned, operating as a searchlight sweeping up and down my body. Those high beams radiated the room, obscuring his face and blinding me in the process. Never before had I seen his eyes so bright and alive, not even while angry, but it removed all suspicion of disguise. Though Tobias could impersonate any human on earth, he could never replicate that signature glow.
“How did you get up there?”
“I climbed up here,” he stated matter-of-factly, the words coming out in stereo around the room.
“Why did you leave the hospital?”
“Excuse me for not wanting to die in a hospital gown. If I'm gonna go, it'll be at home with some decent clothes.” He pointed to his jeans and thermal undershirt.
His dirty, scabby feet flushed to the wall as if a nail pinned them there. He didn't appear to be in pain, and barely seemed to be aware of anything but me.
“You blame him for Nadine's death. Don't deny it! I felt the hate in youâI could taste it. I can still taste it, bitter like spoiled milk. Just know if I go, you're coming with me.”
“What are you talking about? I didn't come after you. I haven't seen you in a week.” My mind raced, seeking meaning behind his words and the situation at hand. “Did someone attack you in the hospital? Is that why you left?” I took another step. “Caleb, are you all right?”
He didn't answer but his eyes drifted around the room, looking for something in the shadows. “That noise! I can hear you, you sad little puppy. You think I wanted this? She shouldn't have died that night, but her spirit is mine now. You can't have her! I won't make it easy, I promise you that. Come on, you coward!”
It's hard to evaluate specific thoughts while in a state of shock. But one detail filtered through, screaming louder than the rest: Caleb was scared out of his mind. And that mind, diseased and distressed as it was, had ventured to some dark, nightmarish place that I couldn't follow. His fear was real, but what caused it left me standing stupid.
“What happened to you?” I asked.
“You shouldn't be here when it happens, but he won't come otherwise. He'll follow you to the ends of the Earth if need be.” He leapt off the wall, landed on his feet, and stood before me in one collective movement. His stiff, imposing stance threw off his natural posture, a suit that didn't quite fit. Neither did that intense heat shooting from unfamiliar eyes. “But he needn't travel that far. My door is wide open.”
I reared back, mostly to avoid the glare of those eyes. It hurt to look directly into them, and they left an inverted image behind my lids when I blinked. What little I could see dropped a weight in the pit of my stomach. Not only had his pupils expanded to the size of quarters, but his irises had taken over the whites of his eyes. They were the eyes of an animal.
Tobias and his costume play had taught me to distrust external appearances, but this was not an outward deception. No, this was Caleb's real body, but as some darker rendition. Though the answer had been staring me in the face since I entered the room, I had to hear it from him. “Who are you?”
His head tilted to the side, studying me as if I were a new species. “Don't you recognize me? After all, you named me.”
My body shook from the terror of knowledge; a host of explanations played in my head, countless opportunities that ascribed to this new dilemma. This was what Caleb feared most, the overthrow, the mutinous role reversal between master and subject. No matter the catalyst, the crisis remained.
Capone had been unleashed.
20
I
'd always been a fan of horror movies, zombie movies in particular, those scabby, half-dead creatures shuffling toward their next meal.
'd always been a fan of horror movies, zombie movies in particular, those scabby, half-dead creatures shuffling toward their next meal.
There's always that scene where one infected person has kept quiet until the last minute and the survivors have to make the crucial decision to kill them. But there comes that moment of pause where the camera zooms in on the actor's expression of disbelief and turmoil before he pulls the trigger.
That's kinda how I felt right now, but far less entertaining. The only difference was I didn't have a gun. I could grab one of Caleb's weapons downstairs, but the fierce light darting from his eyes suggested that I could barely breathe without permission.
He ambled to the nightstand and clicked on the light, which suddenly decided to work from his touch alone. Everything about him and this situation was wrongâfrom attic to basement, hitting every floor in between.
And just like those people in the movies, I experienced that moment of pause, frozen beyond shock or denial. Sure, I could fight and scream loud enough for Haden to come up hereâwhere was Haden anyway?âbut I couldn't leave by my own will. If a part of Caleb was still here, still alive, then I had to find him. I had to save him, if only from himself.
Capone knelt down and pulled a pair of high-laced boots from under the bed. He bounced on the mattress, slung a leg over his knee, and slid on the footwear in a method of ceremony. He applied heavy concentration to this act, a sacred ritual before going into battle. Caleb rarely wore those boots, known throughout the punk-rock circle as “ass-kicking boots”âand ass kicking seemed to be one of the events scheduled for this evening.
“Someone's been sleeping in here. Caleb doesn't make the bed this way.” Capone sniffed the air. “I smell licorice, so it must be Michael. They ate all the cereal in the house tooâthat had to be Haden's doing. I hate when they use his stuff. They always take and take and he gets what's left.” He whipped his hair back and caught my gaze. “Except for you. He doesn't have to compromise or split you five ways like clothes, toys, and attention. He can have all of you. Do you have any idea how much joy that brings him, or how much energy that joy creates?”
He dragged his tongue over his lips as he recalled some past flavor. “Oh, I've never had it so good. I've been sucking on misery and fear for almost two decades. Imagine eating cold soup every day with no variety. But you, Samara, the joy you bring him is warm and sweet and spicy like cinnamon. He won't go back to cold gruel and neither will I.”
I just stood there, stone still, as I tried to make sense of his ranting. Finally, I found my voice. “Where's Caleb? Is he dead?”
“If he was dead then I wouldn't be here, now would I?” Capone replied, sliding on the next boot. “Your lover is safe. He's not in any condition to drive, as it were, so I'm taking the wheel.”
“Caleb and I aren't lovers, not technically,” I groused.
“Which shows your ignorance of the word and its true meaning,” he returned nastily. “That's part of the problem, am I right? You're too concerned with the physical when it's just a means to something more profound. We'll deal with that later. Now, I have bigger obstacles.” Capone reached his feet and roamed around the room, staying close to the walls, listening to its secrets. His smooth gait worked the floor, bidding the shadows to come forward.
Again, where was Haden? He should have been up here by now. I was sure he could hear all the commotion up here. Or was something keeping him downstairs? Was he hurt?
Manic laughter intruded my thoughts. Capone stood by the door with his ear pressed to the wall, giggling.
“I hear you,” he singsonged. “Come on, fight me. That's the only way you're getting what you want.”
“What's going on?” I asked.
“He's coming, and he's not happy.” Capone pressed his face against the wall again, his hand stroking the chalky white surface affectionately. “Shh. He's coming. Don't you hear himâthat poor little puppy, crying for his lost mate. Well, he can't have mine. Here, puppy, puppy. I've got something for you. Who's a good boy?”
I didn't need to ask who he was referring to. No one else I knew cried like a dog, and the way Capone was egging him on, I had no doubt Tobias would answer the challenge. I pleaded with Capone to stop, but he ignored me and continued antagonizing the walls.
He paused and glanced at me over his shoulder. “Ah, I see. He needs a motive, an extra push.” Capone scooped me into his arms before I could protest. He trapped my face in one hand and crushed his lips against mine. I pushed and squirmed, but he was too strong. The kiss, greedy and punishing, initiated a response from Lilith. She didn't appreciate being manhandled either and rushed to my aid.
Capone leapt back with a yelp and wiped his lips. “Dammit, Lilith, you didn't have to bite me! Just having fun.”
“Fun time's over,” I replied.
He backed away, his chest rumbling with more inhuman laughter. Just before he was about to run into the wall, he used his heels to begin a backward climb that disobeyed the laws of physics.
“You think he didn't follow you?” he asked as he climbed. “You think he doesn't know where you are right now? He doesn't like me touching you. Not one bit.”
While Capone continued to play Spiderman, I heard it, the shrill whine that abraded my ears and hurt my heart. The sound traveled faster like a soaring jet overhead, almost deafening upon approach. Capone just giggled at this, elated to get the game started.
“Capone, please, we have to get out of here.”
Squatting, he leaned at a ninety-degree angle, perpendicular to my stance. His face drew closer as if ready to kiss me again. “No. I told you, we won't share you. He started this and I'm gonna finish it. He needs to know what he's dealingâ” His eyes lifted to a spot just over my head. “Get down!”
A firm shove sent me to the opposite side of the room, my feet kicked from under me. During this unplanned flight, a shadowy tube whooshed past me, tunneling its way toward Capone. The air cracked in a burst of sound as it struck Capone in the chest. His body slammed against the wall, almost driving him completely through it. Plaster crumbled and chipped, raining dry clumps on the floor.
That's when I realized that the man of the hour had arrived, and what an entrance! Tobias squatted on the headboard, gold rays shooting through the black strands covering his face.
Capone pushed from the crater in the wall and charged after him, using his hands and feet like a large monkey. Tobias followed suit, springing off the headboard to meet Capone halfway. The two collided in midair, wrestling their way to the floor. The wood cracked and bent under their weight. Capone broke from the hold and raced to the opposite side of the bed.
Tobias stood and wiped his mouth. He looked at his hand, surprised at the smudge of blood on the fingers. “You're pretty strong for a demon mutt.”
“Must have been something I ate,” Capone sneered and looked to me.
Tobias's hurt and resentful gaze fell on me crawling on the floor.
It took me a minute to understand his meaning, but a lightbulb clicked on in my head when it did. That was why Tobias didn't want me feeding Caleb his energy. Whatever power he had would pass on to Caleb, making them equals in combat.
Again, that contradiction about time travel came to mind where two of the same matter could never occupy the same space. By fighting each other, they were fighting themselves and the attempt would backfire in a really bad way. But I was the only one in the room who seemed to care.
The lamp flew across the room, hitting Tobias in the shoulder and drowning the room into semidarkness again. A battle cry echoed the walls; footsteps pounded the floor as two dark components rammed into each other. The impact was a bomb with no fire, two atoms clashing in an explosion of power. Everything after that occurred with unnatural speed, while the pair performed acrobatics only seen in Cirque du Soleil.
My screams went ignored by the brawling men as bodies flew over my head. I curled into a ball in the corner, ducking sailing furniture, and cringing from every blow delivered. This couldn't go on forever and if they kept it up, they would destroy the house in the process. I got to my feet on shaky legs when a gust of air knocked me over.
One push sent me airborne again, barreling through the door and into the hallway. The more I fought, the more the force pushed me back. I tumbled and rolled, hitting walls and objects soaring in the upheaval until I landed in the tub in the hall bathroom.
Lights flickered around my eyes. I couldn't breathe, let alone scream. Every blow and hit struck my body with remarkable strength. Yet I felt no pain. Though numb to the sting of each assault, I felt its pressure, the strike across my ribs, stomach, and jaw. Angry scratches dragged along my neck, but didn't break the skin.
I didn't know who hit who at this point, but it became apparent that I could feel both of them at once. It could've been from the energy we shared or the ever-growing link, but I was a third party to this brawl and I wasn't even in the room.
This was a bad situation, not conducive to tight quarters such as a bathroom. Though I didn't feel the punches, the effects threw me against the wall, hurled me into the sink, slammed me against the mirror, and shredded my forearm in broken glass. Before I could scream, I was thrown upward. I scrambled for the edge of the sink, the towel rack, but nothing could slow my ascent to the ceiling. I hit the surface with a sound thwack; my back lay flat as though magnetized to the roof.
Catching my breath, I looked down at the destroyed area below. The ripped shower curtain hung on its rod by two rings. The broken toilet cover lay cracked on the floor. Shattered glass glittered in the sink. The bathroom door, dislodged from its hinges, canted against the wall. Yellow and purple flashes shot from the hallway, turning the house into a discotheque.
There was no time to evaluate this new turnabout. I kicked out my feet and tried to drop down, but all efforts left me pressed against the ceiling, withstanding an indirect beat-down. I managed to roll on to my stomach and crawl on my elbows toward the door. I grabbed the doorframe and pulled my body into the hallway.
It looked as though Haden had decided to join the festivities at some point; he now lay unconscious near the stairs. Part of a bedroom doorâwhat was left of itâhad landed on top of him.
“Haden!” I yelled and got no answer.
Air rushed in every direction, howling in my ears and tangling my hair over my face. I crawled across the ceiling until I floated directly above him. “Haden, wake up!”
Haden's head floundered from shoulder to shoulder as he came to. He sat up slowly and shoved the door off his chest. He shook his head, shedding the cloud of dust and rubble from his hair.
“Sam? Sam, where are you?”
“I'm up here,” I called.
Seeing my predicament, he sprang to his feet with one of Caleb's daggers shaking in his hand. No doubt, it was the first weapon he'd grabbed from downstairs. “How the hell did you get up there?”
“Long story. We have to get Caleb. He's in the room withâ” My words were cut off by another violent impact that sent me tumbling to the end of the hallway.
Haden tried to follow, wading through the jungle of furniture and fallen wires.
Something caught hold of my feet and dragged me from one wall to another. With only a split-second glimpse into the bedroom, I caught Capone sailing from wall to wall in a similar fashion, our paths crossing in a synchronized dance in midair. My body ricocheted off each surface in a bad game of pinball until I flung through the entry of Caleb's bedroom. I hit the floor hard and slid across the carpet to home plate, and the friction burned my jeans. I planted my feet down to stop, but lost my footing and plunged downward.
The back wall and the window disappeared into the night. The furniture had either flown outside or fallen through the great crater in the floor from whose edge I now dangled.
My feet rocked to swing my legs up, but I couldn't manage a grip. All the while, Tobias and Capone continued to scrap in the corner. Capone served a heavy right cross, which sent Tobias flying over my head and into the wall. The bedroom in the apartment next door came into view.
“Take my hand!” Haden yelled above me, reaching over the edge.
Just as I reached out, movement came from above and knocked my helper off his feet. Tobias towered over him and delivered a sound kick to Haden's ribs. Capone wrapped an arm around Tobias's neck, giving Haden time to get to his feet. With dagger in hand, Haden lunged forward with deadly purpose. Capone and I seemed to reach the same conclusion as we saw what he was about to do.
“No. Stop! You can't!” Capone warned.
“Haden, don't!” I screamed to no avail.
The blade burrowed into Tobias's stomach as far as it could go with only the handle sticking out. Tobias fell to his knees, doubled over in pain. Capone soon followed, clutching his abdomen from a sightless injury. In that same instant, fire ate at my torso, burning my insides. Haden paused, stunned at our joint reaction, a realization that arrived too late.
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