Mellizo Wolves (9 page)

Then this angel touched him and he felt breath flow back
into his lungs. “Are you ready?” she asked.

“Please, not yet. I sense that evil forces are closing in
on Damon, and I vowed to my mother to protect him. My hunched back has kept me
from being of much value to him or society so far. If I could just be allowed
to achieve this one goal, it will give my birth meaning.”

“Your birth had meaning in God’s eyes. Never doubt that.”
The angel looked thoughtful and then said, “But I understand your concern.
There is a dark aura around Damon and his little family.”

“Family?” Hugo asked.

“Angela, his wife, bore him twin daughters.”

Of course, while
he’d been dead, Damon had been busy living his life.
“Twins? Are they affected by the curse?”

The angel looked at him with sad eyes, but rather than
answering his question said, “You have valid reasons to be concerned about your
brother and his family. I will leave you on Earth with the understanding that
there is no guarantee God will hold your reservation.”

For a moment, Hugo watched the sunrise paint a metallic
radiance across the purple mountain range to the east and then said, “I
understand and accept the condition.”

She touched the hump on his back and said, “I heal this affliction
in God’s name.” The hump disappeared and, with it, his pain. “Now you will be
on equal footing with your brothers. But be careful, you’re still under the
power of the family curse and at the mercy of the full moon.”

“I don’t wish to be disrespectful, or ask for more miracles
after you’ve given me so many. But if you can make my hump disappear, why can’t
you rid me of the curse?”

The angel smiled wistfully. “I can only heal things you
can’t heal yourself—it’s in your power to escape the curse.”

“How?”

“Read the family journals and ask your brother, Damon.”

With that, the lovely creature shook the muck off her wings
and disappeared into the golden glow of sunrise, leaving him in the muddy
meadow with questions and a driving determination to get answers.

Hugo found an icy stream from a recent rainfall trickling
down from Mt. Baldy, and gritting his teeth, he washed away every trace of the
thick, gluey mud. He was shivering so hard his teeth chattered. He rubbed his
arms vigorously, wishing he had some clothing or a blanket. The early morning
sun gave little warmth, and the soft, forlorn howl of the breeze from the
snow-capped mountains to the east chilled him to the bones.

Now what?
Hugo
crouched nude in the bushes, praying it was really possible for him to achieve
the seemingly overwhelming concept of assimilating back into the complex
society of the living. He didn’t want to let the angel down. She had made the
decision to leave him here and might get in trouble if he failed. Hugo, an avid
reader in his past life, remembered a quote from Winston Churchill: “A
pessimist sees the difficulty in every opportunity; an optimist sees the
opportunity in every difficulty.” If he was to achieve this nearly impossible
task, he must try to be an optimist, pump himself up, and put some steel into
his backbone. Unfortunately, being resurrected from the dead brought a wealth
of problems.

Remember, optimism,
he
scolded himself—this renewed condition could be the best thing that ever
happened to him. His nude body looked better than it had since birth. He hadn’t
seen his face, but the skin felt smooth and his jawline strong like Damon’s.
Best of all, he had complete clarity of mind. But total recall came with a
price—fear. His smile faded as the sharp awareness hit him—if Reeves was still
out there, he was in grave danger.

* * *
*

The shrill jangling of a security alarm in the children’s
room awakened Angela. Then she heard her little girls screaming.

“Damon!” Angela shouted as she jolted upright. A harsh beam
of early sunlight fell on the empty spot where he was supposed to be. She threw
her legs over the side of the bed, propelled herself to her bare feet, and ran
to the girls’ room. She thrust the door open. Both tiny twin beds were empty!

“Valerie…Victoria!” Angela screamed over the still jangling
security alarm. Her heart pounded wildly as she fought rising hysteria.

Suddenly, the alarm fell silent. She froze at the sound of
a trembly, tearful little voice inside the closet calling, “Mommy.”

She yanked open the door and drew Victoria into her arms.
“Oh my God, baby, are you all right?” she said, raining kisses on the child’s
salty, tearstained face.

Victoria nodded. Her body was trembling.

Angela held her closer. “Honey, where’s Valerie?” She
didn’t want to frighten Victoria, but she was unable to keep fear out of her
tone.

Victoria pointed to the canvas bag on the floor. “Bad man
had two bags. He put her in the other one.”

An ache rose in Angela’s chest. At least the heavy material
had air holes, but not much air would get through such small ones. Angela
started to tremble. It was crucial to keep her head. Carrying Victoria with
her, she rushed to the phone. While she dialed 911 Damon charged into the room.

“Damon,” she shouted, “search the house and grounds.
Someone kidnapped Valerie!”

He spun around and disappeared. In between answering the
911 interviewer’s questions, she kissed her little girl’s sweet face
repeatedly.

She tried to think logically. It was all on camera. Whoever
did this wouldn’t get away with it. But oh, dear God, her baby was gone, maybe
in the hands of a madman…

Fifteen minutes later, Angela had set up the security tape
and was about to review it when Damon rushed back into the room. He was
sweating and his hair stood on end. “I couldn’t find Valerie or the kidnapper.”
His words came out in breathless gasps. “I set up a search party. I’ll join the
group as soon as I view the security tape. A good description will help us find
her faster. After the police arrive, you can run it again for them.”

“I was just about to watch it,” she said, briefly going
into his arms.

His sweat had the acrid odor of dread. His body was warm,
his sweaty skin icy. He kissed Victoria and took her into his arms. Angela
hated to part with her, even for a second.

When she ran the tape, it was obvious someone had tampered
with the cameras. All that showed up was a shadowy figure grabbing both girls.
While the kidnapper shoved the screaming Valerie into one of his two large
canvas bags, Victoria kicked him in the shins, grabbed the second bag, and took
off running. First, she leapt up on one of the twin beds, ran across it, and
then crawled under the second one. The alarm kept jangling and Angela could see
the outline of Valerie struggling to escape the bag. Tears filled her eyes.
When the man turned away to get a better hold on the jerking, shifting bag,
little Victoria slipped into the closet and eased the door closed. The man
glanced around the room, swore, and then disappeared from view.

Damon kissed little Victoria again and said, “I’m proud of
you, baby. You handled yourself just right.” Then he handed her back to Angela
and darted out the door. But not before Angela saw the fluid glistening in his
eyes.

“Don’t worry, honey. We’ll find her.”

Angela feared only a miracle would get her child back.

Later, when Officer Haywood and his men arrived, they found
no evidence of a break-in. “It looks like someone with access to the house took
the child,” he said. After he watched the tape, his expression softened and he
added, “We’ll put a tap on your phone. You may get a ransom call. And we’ll put
out an all-points bulletin. We take kidnapping very seriously, especially when
it’s a child.”

* * *
*

Hugo looked down at his nakedness. His first priority was
to get clothes. A group of men left the mansion. He stayed hidden, not sure
what to do. Then he saw the police come, search the area, and leave. He’d
better make his move now while everyone was gone. He entered the hidden tunnel
into the mansion’s inner walls he knew so well and slipped into Damon’s closet.
He knew not to enter the bedroom. He’d seen the wiring for the security
cameras. Quickly, he borrowed a pair of Damon’s jeans, a v-neck sweater, and a
pair of soft boots. He preferred moccasins, but Damon didn’t have any. He
dressed in haste. He wished he had some cash, but going to the safe in the den
was too risky. When he left the closet and reentered the tunnel, he spied a
dark figure carrying a huge canvas bag over his shoulder. Hugo caught a whiff
of the strong scent of chloroform. Earlier, watching the men and police comb
the area had suggested that something big was going on. Apparently, it was a
robbery. Who was the thief, and what was he stealing? Hugo decided to follow
him.

Skirting police and civilian search parties, he followed
the wily thief to a cave. When he entered the dark, dank tunnels, it was easy
to keep him in sight because the guy had a flashlight. Hugo was careful to stay
in the shadows. Ahead, he saw what appeared to be flickering lantern light.
When they approached a wider area with a raised stone platform that resembled a
stage, he stopped and crouched behind a large boulder. He watched the thief
meet with a taller man wearing field clothes. The lantern light gave him a
better view of the thief. He had a slight build and wore western clothes and
cowboy boots. The thief handed the bulging canvas bag to a taller man and, in
return, received a thick, rubber-banded wad of cash. The man opened the bag and
glanced inside. He frowned. “Where’s the other one?”

“She got away.”

The man grabbed the money back and divided it in half.
“You’ll get the rest when the delivery is complete.”

“I can’t go in there again. They have alarms and cameras
all over the place.”

“Can’t or won’t?”

“Both, damn it.”

“Then, I don’t really need you anymore,” the man said as he
drew a gun and shot him right in the heart. The slight pop that echoed through
the cave verified that the gun was equipped with a silencer.

The killer withdrew a glass vial and a syringe from a
nearby backpack. Before Hugo understood what the bad guy was about to do, he
reached into the bag, withdrew a tiny arm, and jabbed the syringe into a vein.
The vial filled with blood.

Hugo froze, suddenly remembering that the man with the gun
had asked, “Where’s the other one?” And the thief answered, “She got away.” The
thief was no thief—he was a kidnapper. Hugo swallowed. And that was
his
little
niece.
Let her be alive.

While he debated the best way to get the child away from
that killer without any further danger to her, the man stored the bag in a
chest, locked it, grabbed the vial, and took off running toward the cave
entrance.

Hugo didn’t wait to be certain the man was gone. His niece
couldn’t breathe in there! He grabbed a big stone and busted the lock. He
reached into the chest, opened the bag, and lifted the limp little girl of
about three into his arms. She was breathing! He kissed her icy cheek. Poor
baby, she was probably freezing in this damp cave. He grabbed up the discarded
canvas, wrapped it warmly around her, and headed for the mansion. How would he
explain that he was no longer dead? It was unexplainable. He had to stay out of
sight. So how would he pull this return off without getting caught? If he got
caught, he might be blamed for the kidnapping. And if he pulled this off, how
would he prevent another kidnapping?

Earlier, he’d watched men in field gear gathering different
species, probably for some kind of testing. Was this part of that? If so, why
the gun, why the murder?

Minutes later, from the closet in Damon’s bedroom, Hugo
heard voices in the adjacent room. One belonged to a small girl, the other to
Angela. Dare he face Angela and risk telling her what happened? Without his
hump and with his renewed skin, he probably wouldn’t look like himself. And if
he did…she and Damon had buried him. He might scare her to death. He’d better
not confront her.

From all his years as a maintenance man, he knew how to
temporarily shut down the cameras. The model was the same type used at Damon’s
place of business. He disconnected the main circuit, tiptoed into the master
bedroom, and gently placed the unconscious child on the bed. He turned her arm
so Angela could see that something had been done to her. The child probably
needed medical attention.

He grabbed up a single candle holder, removed the candle
and, after he slipped back into the closet, he bent and rolled the holder
across the floor and banged the twins’ door. Then, quickly, he entered the tunnel
and took off running, praying no one would stop his escape.

Chapter Five

Angela stiffened at the rumbling sound in the master
bedroom. It was followed by a loud thump against the door. She motioned for
Victoria to stay put and grabbed up the baseball bat Damon used for his stretch
exercises. Wielding it like a club, she eased the door open.