Marked for Vengeance (23 page)

 Micah
stared through the broken door frame with a face as white as a sheet, and
followed with his fearful eyes the person who approached him. As they made
their way to him, the can fell from his hand and rolled down the steps, spattering
coke around the living room like a paint spinner.

* *
*

Walking
steadily backward, Alyx led him into the ocean with their hands locked together,
her eyes unwilling to part with his. She drew in a breath and held it, nodding
toward him to do the same. Isaac compliantly sucked in the humid air, and they
plunged beneath the surface, still gazing at each other through the turquoise water,
her hair surrounding them in a silky cloud.

A tendril
of feathered, curling red floated up between them, and he followed the trail
with his eyes. His gashes had returned, seeping his life into the sea. His head
snapped back up to hers, and through a cluster of bubbles he screamed. Her eyes
transformed to black as they stared at him in horror, resembling an apparition
as she floated in the salty water before him.

He
violently lashed around, and she released her hold to allow him to swim to the
top for air. Before he broke through, his eyes opened from his dream, and he
too lay submerged in water. He had fallen asleep and slid into the tub. 

He
pushed with his legs and choked as he broke through the surface. Water poured
from his nose and mouth as he hacked and gagged, his chest heavy from where the
water had leaked into his airways. He leaned over the tub and held onto the
side, resting his head between his hands and drawing in deep, stinging breaths.
Jesus,
I almost killed myself!

He
coughed to force the rest of the fluid from his lungs and unplugged the tub of
cold water, noticing his MP3 player that rested on the bottom, indisputably
ruined. “Aw, man!” he croaked. He tossed it onto the bathroom rug and crawled
out to check on Micah. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, but if his
wrinkled hands were any indication it had been for quite some time.

After
wrapping a towel around his waist, he headed for the living room and noticed the
blinking red light on his cell phone.
Voicemail.
He hadn’t checked it
all day. As the message played, he opened the fridge for a drink.

“Isaac,”
Bridget began, “I’ve got a bit ‘o bad news about your father, deary. Call me
when you can.” Isaac released a disparaging sigh as he reached for the last
soda can. He had spoken to her several times before, and when she called him
‘deary’ his dad had taken a turn for the worse. But never once did she say that
she had “bad news”.
This is it,
he thought.

“Micah!”
he yelled and turned for his room. “You ok up there? We need to talk for a minute.
I just got a call from-” and he paused. The door to the apartment inexplicably
lay on the ground.  He sat the coke on the counter and ran to the door,
studying the bent metal framing from where someone had bashed it open.
What
the HELL!?
As he realized what this could mean, his chest constricted.

When
his feet shifted to head for Micah’s room, their soles felt sticky. He lifted
his right foot to study the strange substance and noticed the empty coke can on
the floor. Dried coke droplets decorated the back of the sofa and the concrete.
Racked with dread, he hurried up the winding stair case, skipping two stairs at
a time, and stared at the indented curvature on the comforter where his son had
lain.
All of the remaining breath squeezed from his lungs.
 

He
wanted to continue searching, but his instincts had already told him the truth.
He’s gone.

A
stifled, devastated cry found its way through his chest, and he opened his cell
phone to call 911. The “no service” banner rolled across the screen
. Dammit!

He hurled
the phone down to the living room where it smashed against the floor. The
windows downstairs revealed twilight’s distinctive cobalt glow, which meant he
must have slept in the tub for close to four hours. If someone had taken Micah,
the two of them could be anywhere by now.

* *
*

Alyx
awoke from the tiny strings that practically pulled her from the floor, and she
sat up, rubbing the side of her head where she had hit it. It didn’t throb, or
even hurt, but it seemed unusual not to at least feel for a lump, especially
since the blow had left an uneven, crescent-shaped hole in the granite. She
wasn’t sure if she had passed out because of cracking her head or because of the
voices, but something had grabbed hold of her and pulled her into
unconsciousness. And for how long? The apartment had grown incredibly dark, and
the voices no longer whirled inside her head. She must have been out for
awhile.

Exasperated,
she slammed her fist on the hardwood floor, splitting the planks of wood. Her
superiors told them that if they were ever summoned, they would only have until
midnight to make it to the gateway.  Hours of precious time had already sifted
away.

She
shot up from the floor and ran down the apartment stairs. This would be her
last time in the complex, but she didn’t have the spare seconds to grieve over
her leaving.  She hopped in her car and sped toward his building.

The
closer she came, her scar blazed as though someone had turned a knob up on the
intensity, and when she arrived, could literally see why. Her new eyesight
deciphered a cloud of translucent figures suspended in the air, making ripples
through it as they circled around his building – something a mere human’s eyes
would be unable to see. It
was
hard for her to make out a distinct shape
or size, but something was there. Judging by the reaction of her scar, these
were possibly the beasts that visited her apartment earlier that day and had
mutilated Benjamin.

When
they spotted her, a few of them slowly gravitated toward the car, hovering
around it. Their faint screeches pierced the air, and she crinkled her nose as
the noise clawed against her eardrums like pointy nails down a chalkboard. Her
muscles tensed as she waited for them to attack, but they only circled the car,
sizing her up, not
that
interested in her yet.

She
opened the door with severe caution and walked toward the building as the
beasts trailed closely behind. Once through the front entrance, she used the
steps so she could get to him faster, though still walking at a steady pace,
afraid she might aggravate the beast’s somewhat observant manner. They followed
her through the building and all the way down the hallway where a flock of them
waited outside his door.

She
gulped as she made her way through them, the heat they bred warming her skin as
she walked. Except this time, because the transformation left her with a
strengthened body, the beasts didn’t drain her energy, leaving it untouched.

She
stopped at the mutilated door frame, her heart stopping as the image fully
registered.
Who did this?
No man would have had the strength, not even
ten
men could have torn the large, metal door from its hinges.

As
she surveyed the damage, their shrieks grew louder, unhappy that she contemplated
going through. She scanned the living room, and as best as she could tell, none
of the beasts hovered inside. They must have been waiting for
him
to
leave and had undoubtedly waited a long time, antsy to rip into his flesh as
they had Benjamin’s.

She
stepped through what was left of the door and blinked as a cool wind blew her
hair from her shoulders. A gentle whispering floated through the air.
Prayers?

Something
protected his home, the monsters kept at bay.

* *
*

Isaac
packed his toiletries into a black, leather duffle bag. He couldn’t stay there
any longer. He would devote every ounce of his being to finding his son, and
nothing could stop him. He was a man on a mission.

He
didn’t care if his destiny awaited in some distant land where a Spirit Guide
named Oman would mentor him, or that he possessed a ‘gift’ to possibly save the
world. He didn’t want to live in a world where his son didn’t exist anyhow.

His shaky
hands moved from the bathroom cabinet to his duffle bag, shoving anything he
might need into its small opening. Overwrought with terror, his mind played
through different scenarios of what might have happened the moment Micah was
taken, or who had done it, or what he must have seen and experienced in those
minutes and continued to experience now. Micah already suffered with illness,
were his captors harming him too? Torturing him?

Isaac
zipped the bag closed and rounded the corner to the kitchen, snatching the
butcher knife from the counter on his way to the door. When he emerged from
behind the cabinets, he halted. Alyx stood in the middle of the living room
between the staircase and the sofa, staring through the broken door.

 “Where’s
my son, bitch!” he barked. Seeing her there was of no surprise to him now, he
had almost expected her to show up.    

At
the sound of his voice, she spun around. He dropped his bag, pointing the knife
in her direction to show that he meant business, her frightening appearance not
deterring him in the least. Because she had occupied his dreams for so long,
this didn’t seem any different.

Her
dark, polished eyes studied him intently as her body positioned into a careful stance,
like a lioness sizing her opponent – or her prey – anticipating her next move. Fairly
certain that his face didn’t reveal it, he now felt hunted and vulnerable. “Hello
again, Isaac,” she said with a caginess to her voice that harmonized with her
posture.

The feral
tone in her words almost unraveled him. “Do you know where my son is?” he asked
again and hoped she hadn’t noticed the crack in his voice.

Her
eyebrows pinched together as she searched the flat, his question taking her by
surprise. “Your son?”

“
Yes
,
I have a son! Don’t play around with me,” he said, waving the blade violently through
the air.

“Why
would
I
know?”

“Well
don’t you?!”

Her
brows pinched tighter. “I wasn’t aware you had one.”

 
Oh
I’m sure.

She
placed one foot in front of the other, carrying her smoothly in his direction,
reminding him again of a feline.“Do you know who I am?”

He
jutted the knife toward her. “I know that you look like a demon and that your
name is Alyx… is that even your
name?
”

“Yes,”
she said calmly. “But do you know why I’m here?”

She took
another indulgent step, and Isaac lunged forward. “I will use this. I’m not
playin’ around!”

She fought
an amused smile and held up her hands. “I don’t think that will be of much use
to you.”

“All
I want is my son, so if you can’t help me with that you need to get out of my
way,” he said, grabbing the bag he had dropped, and marched for the door.

“You
don’t want to do that,” she warned as she moved into his path.

He stepped
around her. “Watch me.”

“No,
you don’t understand… you don’t want to do that!” she shouted desperately.

He
had almost made it there when she gripped his upper arm, pulling him back with
the strength of a man three times her size. Clang! The power behind her quick
grasping had launched the blade into the wall and onto the concrete floor. He hollered
under the vice of her death grip and dropped to his knees.

“Oh,
Isaac, I’m so sorry!” she cried and released her hold. “I didn’t mean to hurt
you. I don’t know my own strength yet.”

He rubbed
his throbbing arm as he stood, and when he glared at her, a burning remorse
showed in her eyes. She told the truth; his pain upset her. “You care that you
hurt me?”

“It
was a reaction. I’m sorry.”

Isaac’s
anger slowly withered away. Maybe he
should
listen to what she had to
say. After all, if she had come to harm him, she wouldn’t be upset over his
pain.

“Can
you see anything outside of that door?” she asked, pointing toward it.

His
head turned to look through, and he squinted, unable to see anything. “Am I
supposed to?”

“Can
you
hear
anything, then?”

He moved
to the threshold, sticking his ear closer. “No, I can’t.”

“My
point exactly. That’s why I couldn’t let you walk through that door.”

His
lips pursed tightly as his eyes drew back to the empty door frame. “I’m not
followin’.”

“Out
that door is a huge mass of evil beasts that are practically
salivating
for you to walk through. And from my experience, they do not mean you well.”

His
eyebrows rose with astonishment. “So you were
protectin’
me?”

“That’s
what I’ve been trying to tell you. I might look a scary, like a ‘demon’ as you
referred to earlier, but I’m actually here to protect you.”

Isaac’s
head spun from this revelation. All this time he had thought she was out to
harm him and his son. But why would Oman warn him about her? Something didn’t
match up.
She’s lyin’.