Shadow of the Past (31 page)

“You see Him, don’t you?”
His voice whispered in Darren’s ear.

“
I think so,” Darren said
through gritted teeth. He could feel a trickle of blood run down
his forearm.

“I remember the first time I
saw Him. I was down here working, staring off into space, and there
he was. I didn’t know what it was at first, so I got my parents to
come and look, but they couldn’t see it. They said I was imagining
it, that it was all in my head because of all the things I’d
already seen. But I knew! I knew He was real, and soon I could hear
Him too. He said I had to make others see, and I tried! I tried to
make my parents see, I tried so hard, but they wouldn’t! So I did
the next best thing. If they weren’t going to worship Him, they’d
feed Him. After that I knew what I had to do.

“I had to either bring him
food, or bring him those that can worship him like I do. So which
one are you? Are you food, like the others, or do you
believe?”

Darren didn’t say anything,
and then he felt it against his chest. Something sharp.

“Tell me.”

Darren screamed as the blade
slowly dragged down his chest. It started high, just below his
right armpit and was drawn down across to the opposite hip. His
shirt fell to pieces, and blood trickled down his chest and
pattered on the basement floor like rain.

“He needs the blood,” Corwin
said. With a flick of his wrist, he shook the blade towards the
furnace, sending an arc of blood through the air. When the blood
landed in the fuel chamber, the flames erupted in a volcanic
burst.

“Oh, He likes you. He wants
more.”

Corwin dug his fingers into
the open wound, fishing out more tasty morsels for his furnace-god.
Darren screamed in pain and then something knocked into the two of
them with so much force that Darren swung forward, feet leaving the
ground. Corwin toppled over, the blade falling to the ground and
something screaming and kicking latched onto his back.

Something named
Randal.

As Darren swung back from
the impact, he realized that it had pulled down the piece of pipe
the chain had been wrapped around. His feet were now able to fully
touch the ground. He grabbed the chain hanging above his wrists,
dug in with his feet and pulled with all his might. The chain
shivered and then gave way, dropping Darren to the ground with one
end still wrapped around his wrists.

Randal was shrieking at the
top of his lungs, hanging on Corwin’s back swinging as hard as his
tiny arm could muster. Corwin got to his feet, and with a shrug he
flipped Randal to the ground next to Darren.

Darren tugged at the chain
wrapped around his wrists, trying to get himself free. Corwin
towered over the two of them, glowering down at the stunned Randal.
Corwin reached for him, but the boy kicked up and into the man’s
groin. Corwin doubled over, dropping to one knee, and Randal
scampered to his feet.

“Let’s go!” Randal
yelled.

Before he could break for
the door, Corwin’s arm snaked out, grabbing Randal’s collar with
one hand and pulling him back.

“Little bastard,” he
snarled, smashing Randal’s head down onto the ground. His head
lolled backwards and Corwin slammed it down again, the boy’s eyes
rolling back into head as he fell into unconsciousness, blood
leaking from the back of his head. Corwin reached for where the
blade had fallen, but there was nothing there.

Corwin turned and looked
over at Darren, and then to the blade the boy had in his
hands.

Corwin opened his mouth to
say something, but before he could, Darren swung the blade as hard
as he could.

Mark threw the blanket off his head and
was blinded by the light. At first he thought it was the furnace
flames, but then he realized it was the morning sun beaming down
into his face.

So there it was. Justin Corwin’s defeat
at the hands of one of his victims. Now he’d come back to exact
some sort of revenge and it was typical Mark Watson luck that he’d
be singled out as the target.

“Mark, come on! I’m running late!” Joe
yelled up the steps.

Mark stumbled to the top of the steps.
“You go, I’m not ready yet.”

“Mark, you better get a move on, I mean
it!”

“I’m going, I’m going. I can
walk.”

“You sure?” Joe said, sounding
skeptical. Mark knew that it was well past the time for Joe to
leave and there was no way he could afford to stay and debate it
with him.

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Alright, but you better not be late.”
Mark listened to his thundering decent down the stairs and slam of
the front door. He waited until he heard the car pull out of the
driveway before he turned around and got back into bed.

“You’ve got to be shitting
me,” Joe said, staring down at the note that was waiting for him in
his box.
Joe: School called, nephew not
there, no answer at house.
He read it again
to make sure that there was no mistaking it but it was pretty
clear. That little shit ditched school to go out and do god knows
what. Probably cause more fucking mayhem to get him taken back to
the police station and cost Joe more money.

“Un-fucking-believable.” Joe stalked
through the break room, getting to the phone just before one of the
new kids from sorting got to it.

“Hey, man, c’mon.” the kid
said.

“Hey yourself, numbnuts. Beat
it.”

“Joe, when are you gonna get
a cell phone and join us in the 21
^st
century?” Marty said from a
nearby table, snickering around a mouthful of sandwich.

“When are you gonna mind your fucking
business?”

Joe dialed the house number and waited.
It rang a bunch of times, and then he heard himself say to leave a
message at the beep. He slammed the phone down in the
cradle.

“Walt,” he called to one of his buddies
just coming in the door, “Cover for me, I have to go
home.”

“Again? Jesus, Sal is going to be
pissed. What is it now?”

“I have to go kick my nephew’s ass,” he
snarled, yanking his jacket off its hook.

He drove home, hoping that kid was just
holed up in his little attic space and ignoring the phone. He’d
proven to be dumb enough to practically get arrested, there was no
reason why he wouldn’t be dumb enough to just be hanging around the
house like a useless lump.

He’d lost count of the chances he’d
given the little shit. He’d practically begged him not to cause any
more trouble, and what happens? They spend a Saturday down at the
police station shelling out more money they didn’t have on a lawyer
because the kid refused to not get into trouble.

Joe wasn’t sure what he wanted more,
for Mark to be home so he could slap some sense into him or for him
to not to be so the kid could come back and find his shit strewn
all over the yard and the locks changed.

He skidded to a halt in the driveway,
and when he turned the car off he took a moment to close his eyes
and take a deep breath. He’d promised Martha on her deathbed that
he’d take care of him. It was the last thing he’d said to her. Not
“I love you,” not “You made me so happy,” but “I’ll take care of
him.”

Remembering that he’d wasted his last
words on that ungrateful little brat was all he needed to blow past
whatever small sense of calm and rationality that had begun to
develop. He strode into the house and up the stairs overflowing
with righteous anger. He tried the attic door, but it was
locked.

“Mark! Get the hell down here!” He
said, slamming his fist on the door.

There was no response, but he could
hear the floorboards squeaking as something moved around up
there.

“Dammit, Mark!” he said, pounding on
the door. “Get the hell down here or I’m going to break this
fucking door down!”

Finally, he heard slow footsteps coming
down the stairs on the other side of the door. Joe took a deep
breath and he could feel the calm trying to claw its way back to
the surface. If he wasn’t careful this could get out of hand fast,
and then Mark wouldn’t be the only one with a visit to the police
station.

The door opened and Mark stood there,
disheveled and blinking at the light. Joe stared at him, clenching
and unclenching his fists.

“What?” Mark said.

“You cut school today, that’s what.
They had to call me at work, again. How’re we supposed to live if I
get fired for coming out and messing with you all the
time?”

“Well, why not just stop messing with
me?” Mark said, turning to leave.

“Dammit, boy!” Joe grabbed Mark by the
arm and spun him back around. “This isn’t a fucking joke! What the
hell are you doing?”

“Ow! Fuck, let me go!” Mark said,
pulling away.

“Watch your mouth!” Joe let go and Mark
stumbled backwards against the attic steps.

“Just leave me alone, okay? I was tired
so I decided to stay home. What do you care?”

“No you don’t!” Joe stepped forward,
slamming a hand against the attic door, pinning it against the wall
before Mark could close it. He moved closer to Mark, pointing a
finger right in the kid’s face. “As much as I’d love to just get
rid of you for all the trouble you’ve been causing lately, I can’t.
It fucking eats me up inside, but that’s the truth. If you’re not
going to behave, then I’m going to make you.”

“What are you going to do, hit me?”
Mark said, batting away the offending finger.

With a snarl, Joe grabbed Mark’s shirt
with both hands, lifted him off the ground and slammed him against
the wall. “Don’t you fucking push me! Don’t think that I won’t take
my hands to you!” Mark’s eyes blinked open and shut, his head
having taken most of the impact into the wall.

“Do you hear me?” Joe yelled again,
shaking the boy.

“Fuck you,” Mark said.

With a roar, Joe pulled Mark back and
slammed him back into the door again. Mark’s head snapped forward
with the impact, and he began to squirm and claw at Joe’s hands. He
drew Mark back and slammed him into the wall again, and Mark’s
hands stopped their spastic groping and his head leaned forward,
limp as the rest of his body. Joe lifted him again, read to drive
him back into the door again but he stopped himself, realizing he’d
knocked the boy unconscious.

“Shit,” he said, shifting his grip so
he was holding him up under the armpits. Without being held up, the
boy would just topple forwards and down the stairs. It took him a
second, but he realized that probably wouldn’t be the best thing in
the world.

Teach him a hell of a lesson though,
Joe thought. At least now he knew what it was for his mouth to
write a check his ass couldn’t cash. Maybe he’d--

Mark’s eyes flew open and his
expression went from slack unconsciousness to twisted rage faster
than Joe could process.

With a growl, Mark drove his knee right
into Joe’s stomach, doubling him over. He let go of Mark and backed
up, trying to catch his breath. Mark stepped forward swinging both
fists up into Joe’s ears. Joe screamed, staggering backwards some
more as his ears rang with pain. Even in through his pain he was
aware for a second that he was standing at the very top of the
stairs.

With another growl Mark stepped
forward, and Joe reflexively took another step back and only
finding empty air.

Joe toppled backwards, one arm waving
his for the railing and missing, the other almost reaching Mark,
who just stood there. Joe bounced down the steps, the pain from
Mark’s blows a happy memory. Things in him bent and twisted, and
then his neck hit the wall at the bottom of the steps, the weight
of his body bending it sharply with a snap that sent a numbing echo
through his body.

Maybe the kid could cash that check
after all, he thought, as the numbness sapped away his senses and
everything drifted away from him.

Chapter
Twenty-Nine

After the blow up with Mark Christine
hadn’t ventured out of her hotel room, Aunt Helen bringing her food
without asking too many questions. No, it’s not just that my
brother is dead and my dad’s seriously fucked up, it’s that my
boyfriend is being stalked by a crazy ghost that did this to
them.

If I hadn’t liked him, she told
herself, if I hadn’t thought he was so adorably cute and harmless
this wouldn’t have happened.

She was almost sorry for losing it on
Mark, but then she’d remember what he said to her and how good it
felt to punch him in the mouth. It was at least doing something
that wasn’t sitting in bed and watching shitty TV while her mom sat
at her dad’s bedside and her aunt planned her brother’s
funeral.

Her phone rang, and when she saw who it
was she let out a deep sigh. She hated the idea of talking to him,
but knew that if anything being mad at him would take her mind off
the fact that she’d never see Ryan again.

“Hey--” she started, but was cut off by
the sobbing on the other end of the line. “Mark? What is it? What’s
wrong?”