Shattered Secrets (Book of Red #1) (41 page)

“Hurry.”

I touched the paper, and the world around me melted away. No more sand or gentle waves. No more parent and child shouting matches. Just sounds of a spring-like breeze rustling leaves and birds chirping as they flew from tree to tree. Smiling, I walked up the flat stone path to the wooden door in the gray-brick wall. I pushed away thick ivy vines and twisted the rusted knob. It was locked.

“What are you waiting for?” I heard Mrs. Crawford ask, drawing a curtain of black over the brilliant blue sky.

“I have watched her father do this many times,” Mr. Crawford whispered. “You have to be quiet.”

Closing my eyes, I focused on the feel of the knob in my hand: warm, bumpy with thick layers of decaying metal. I pictured the other side of the door and everything I imagined Kalós had to offer us. Help. Training. War. Leadership. Fear. Power. Love.

An exciting shock ran through my nerves, and my heart raced. I wanted this to work. I wanted to know what the other planes held. Trying the knob again, I turned it, and this time the door opened—

“Do you think this is a joke?” Carl Banaan yelled, closing the curtain before I had a chance to see what I’d done. “The last thing I need is for the Coast Guard to investigate. I have enough strikes against my record. Who was with you?”

“I think I’ve done it,” I said, smiling, yet unable to do anything but watch. Carl Banaan’s face flared with an angry red rage, and he flailed his hands, nearly smacking Will a few times.

“You did well.” Mrs. Crawford took my hand. “We need to go.”

We couldn’t leave Will like this. Alone with a murderer for hire. “He’s going to find out Will helped us, and he’s going to kill him.”

Carl turned his head slightly. “Funny thing is, Abigail, I already know.”

I froze.
How can he see us
?

“He’s possessed”—Mrs. Crawford squeezed my fingers—“by a Favlosi with an ability to see through certain invisibility powers.”

Derick jumped over the lounge chair and stood in front of me.

“What on earth do you think you’re going to do for her, child?” Mr. Banaan smiled, holding his hands behind his back. “I’ve already gone a few rounds with you. You’re not very powerful for a supernatural.”

Will offered Megan a hand and helped her up, then pushed between her shoulder blades and mouthed ‘go’. My best friend locked eyes with me, tears welling, cheeks reddening. I knew somehow she felt like this was goodbye, that we’d never see each other again, never laugh and talk about school, never cry and talk about how stupid boys are.

I love you, silly girl. Run. Run and never look back
.

She nodded, then took off toward the house, running along a narrow sandy path between two dunes. But Boredas and Ruckus darted from the tall grasses and ran into her. Megan screamed as they each grabbed one of her arms and dragged her back to the beach, then tossed her to Will’s feet. She scrambled behind him, her fingers digging into his biceps.

“Why do you betray me?” Carl asked, turning back to his son. “You have everything money can buy, and yet you go behind my back and help these people, these people who bring war to our home!”

“Money doesn’t buy love.” Will squared his shoulders and took a step forward, gently shucking off Megan. “You should know that. You couldn’t buy mom’s love. She doesn’t even act human anymore, just cares about sterile walls and good grades and outward appearances, just like you. You promised me you’d always be here, ride jet skis with me every winter and summer break. But when’s the last time you showed up?”

“William, I—”

“I’m not finished.” Will balled his fists at his sides. “You want to know the worst thing? The worst of all is that you want me to love you, but you don’t do anything to deserve it.”

“Right. I thought this might be about your mother.” Carl shook his head. “I’ll get her the help she needs.”

Instead of yelling and screaming about how dense his father acted, Will looked at him with pity. Carl Banaan didn’t have a grasp on the reality of his life, and he didn’t understand what he’d involved himself in. Kalóans didn’t bring war to Earth, but Carl certainly led war to his home. This was all his fault—mostly all his fault.

“You’re wasting my time.” Ruckus sauntered toward me, a wide grin on his face. “The girl’s opened the planes. I feel the presence of my brothers and sisters in this place.” He met my eyes. “Step away from the shadows, dear ones. The prize you seek is here. Kill her, take the book, and do whatever you wish with the others.”

“Now would be a good time for the heroes to show up,” I said, backing away slowly so as not to draw attention.

Cold, wet arms wrapped around me from behind. “There are no heroes in this story, Abby.”

I whirled. “Mark?”

He smiled sweetly. “What? You thought because
Derick’s
father gave you that book that meant you should trust him—or it?”

“Derick, a little help?”

Derick didn’t come for me though; he turned on his parents and grabbed his father by the throat. “You better have a really good explanation for what he just said. If I find out you’ve been working against us… I am not in the mood to lose my parents, too, and if you had anything to do with the situation we’re in right now…”

Blood swelled under Mr. Crawford’s skin, and his eyes bulged. I’d never seen Derick so angry, so eager to fight. Even when he saved me from Boredas and Ruckus, Derick didn’t have this much hate in his eyes. He was carefree then. Now, his gaze was severe, focused, and he squeezed his father’s neck until the skin and fat hid the tips of his fingers.

“I don’t know”—Mr. Crawford wheezed—“I swear.”

“Stop! He’s your dad, Derick. You can’t do this.”

“Why not? I thought Mark was just a prick who thought he was in love with you, and now look at him. He’s holding you hostage, blood on his hands. Who’s to say my dad’s any different?”

“Oh, let them kill each other.” Mark flexed his arms, stealing my breath, and dragged me backward. “I think I’ll like watching him suffer. Proud, overly confident Derick Crawford finally met his match: dear old dad. Besides, what does it matter to you? You’re going to die anyway.”

“How could you?” I thought back to the self-defense lessons my dad gave me. The eyes, neck, nose, knees, and groin being the most sensitive made the best places to attack.
Keep him talking
. “I thought you were my friend.”

“You thought a lot of things, Abby. You were wrong about most.” He put his lips next to my ear and whispered, “Let’s look at the facts: my parents
were
sworn to your family, before the better side of me slaughtered them; everywhere the Crawfords lived, they brought death upon the Guardians they intended to protect… just like your precious father; and when you were playing damsel in distress, Boredas injected me with the most special gift—”

“Mark…” Letting him ruin his life because he’d helped me wasn’t something I thought I could live with. I took a deep breath and met Derick’s eyes as he let go of his father and took a step toward us, then shook my head slightly. “None of this makes sense. What do your parents and the Crawfords have in common to
my
life?”

Mark chuckled. “The book.”

“The book?” Derick stepped to the side, inching closer and closer to the dunes, away from the path Mark took me on, and away from the path Boredas and Ruckus followed; Derick had a plan.

Mark’s breath blew hot against my ear, and I shuddered. He murdered his mom and dad, people who protected me, who sang at my parents’ funeral. “Yes. The book, Derick. You see, you don’t have
History of Kalós
—which isn’t any book’s actual name—you’ve toted around the
Book of Red
.”

Mr. and Mrs. Crawford jolted at this, but kept their gazes on the advancing Boredas, Ruckus, and Carl.

“What is it?” I asked, hoping no one else was paying attention to Derick slipping into the shadows behind the tall grasses. “The
Book of Red
?”

“It’s what the Guardians stole from the Destroyers during the last Originals battle, like when our grandparents weren’t even a thought yet. It’s their connection to the Taker; he writes it.”

“What?” Mr. Crawford stalked our way, jumping over the lounge chair, his gaze lingering on the book in my hand. “That book told me to communicate the location of Guardians I worked for to your parents. You mean to tell me”—he wiped his palm over his face, then clutched a dagger at his chest—“that’s it. Your parents were traitors, along with you.”

Tension rippled through Mark’s arms, making the muscles look ten times larger than I knew them to be. Salty water slickened his skin, and his hold on me loosened a little as he took another step away. “My parents weren’t traitors. They were stupid, like you and your wife, and trusted in technology. You played an online game to trade confidential info. How stupid could you be?”

“Seriously? You’re telling me that game wasn’t protected by some sort of magic?” I almost laughed but remembered a psychopath had his arms around me and seemed to get angrier with every passing second, a psychopath I grew up with, played on the swings with. I shuddered, my brain struggling to align the two versions of Mark. “Everything has security.”

“Security is meant to be cracked.” He took one arm off me, gripping tighter with his left, and pointed at Ruckus. “The Fávlosi you see there, he’s befriended a very intelligent human. Do you know what that human’s job is?”

I swallowed hard, heart pounding against Mark’s arm wrapped around my chest.

“Figured it out, huh? Ruckus’ very good
friend
… well, he’s an official government hacker.”

Mr. Crawford spun on his heel and launched his dagger at Ruckus. He ducked just as the metal flew past him and impaled Carl Banaan with a sickening thud.

Carl glanced at the dagger, eyes wide, and fell to his knees. Blood trickled down his white dress shirt.

“Dad!” Will ran for him, then pulled the blade from his dad’s chest and pressed his hands against the wound. He shook his head back and forth, over and over, and mumbled “No, no, no.” Face pale, eyes wide. “No, no, no. Megan, call 9-1-1.”

“No use, kid. The good guys killed Daddy dearest.” Ruckus laughed and charged Mr. Crawford just as his wife did the same, pulling a knife from a holster strapped to her waist and aiming it at the spirit.

She swiped Ruckus’ shoulder, and he spun away.

Mr. Crawford attacked from the left and punched Ruckus then pulled another blade, a tactical knife, and slashed the air, tearing a hole in his shirt—

Boredas looked our direction and nodded at Mark.

“Desired effect achieved.” He laughed again. “That’s our cue.”

If my heart raced any faster, I’d die of a heart attack before ever landing a blow to any of Mark’s sensitive spots. “You’re going to kill me now?”

The bushes rustled, and Derick barreled down the dune, gaze fixed on Mark.

“Great,” Mark said. “Not what we need right now.”

I took this distraction to stomp on his toe. He dropped his hold on me, then I turned around and kicked him in the groin. He fell to his knees, and Derick pushed me out of the way, toward the tall mound of sand.

“Run!”

Mark held up a hand. “Wait!”

I didn’t move. I wanted to run, but then I’d have to leave Derick and his parents and Will and Megan. No, idiots run. Dad had taught me to fight, to never abandon soldiers—okay, that’s what they taught him in the Marine Corps, but those rules applied to everything. Instead of deserting my only family, I grabbed a piece of driftwood and tossed it to Derick. “I’d hit him myself, but I have to protect this book.”

The spirits needed a connection to their leader, to be stronger, deadlier. They’d have to pry it from my fingers, after rigor mortis set in.

“That could be arranged, you know.” Boredas tapped my shoulder, then crossed his arms over his chest. “Your boyfriend’s father isn’t doing so well, neither is his mother. Give me the book and I’ll let you live.”

“You killed my mom and dad. Why would I give
you
anything?”

Boredas shook his head, pain revealing itself in his downturned eyes. “That wasn’t me. Their murder is on the hands of my brother. Give me the book, and you’re more than welcome to seek your revenge. I’ll let you go.”

“No, Boredas!” Ruckus kicked Mr. Crawford in the gut then elbowed his back, knocking him face first to the sand.

Mrs. Crawford pulled a stake from a leg holster and drove it into Ruckus’ thigh. He paled but kept moving forward, kept fighting to get near us—
superhuman
. She ran at him again and sunk a blade into his back.

“Son of a bitch, woman, just go down already.” He shoved her to the side and took a step forward, only for Mr. Crawford to grab his ankles and trip him. Ruckus landed on the stake and wheezed.

Derick’s parents jumped up and stood over Ruckus, weapons raised above their heads, each with a boot on his back. Several strands of hair fell out of the French braid and around Mrs. Crawford’s face, and she heaved to catch her breath. Mr. Crawford had a long gash under his left eye but otherwise appeared unharmed.

“No way will I ever go down to the likes of you.” Mrs. Crawford put her boot on the back of his head and forced his face down.

He let out a muffled scream and tossed his weight side to side until she allowed him air. “Let me die, but you cannot let Abigail live.”

“Oh, relax, brother.” Boredas smiled at Ruckus as he spit out a mouthful of sand. “She’s the last of the Guardians. If we kill her, then she’ll never know what it’s like to be trapped. Kalós isn’t her home; this is. Just think of what her life will be like when they never allow her to leave.”

“Give him the book, Abby.”

Derick swung at Mark, clocking him cold in the jaw. “Don’t speak to her. Ever.”

Mark laughed, rubbing the splotchy red mark left on his skin. “There used to be a time that would hurt. Not anymore. I’m stronger now.”

“I’d love to keep trying.”

“They really do love you, Abigail Doran, as everyone who’s known you has.” Boredas stared at Mark and Derick for a moment. “I definitely shared my blood with the wrong boy, though, because it’s quite obvious who you love and listen to. For my plan to work, a plan where your life remained intact, I needed someone close to you and me.”