Stormfront (Undertow Book 2) (20 page)

I wondered if Nikki’s perfect life was actually more like a prison.

We made our way around the first floor, being careful not to touch anything. After several sitting rooms, a formal dining room, monster-size pantry, laundry, and a few bathrooms, we realized the bedrooms must be on the second floor. I started heading up the stairs with MJ following, but heard a wooden bang behind me. I spun around and MJ was sheepishly picking up the ball finial from the floor.

“Did you just break the staircase?” I accused through my teeth.

“No! It just toppled off. It must be missing a screw or something,” he whispered, setting the ball back on the post at the base of the stairs.

Stealth was not our strong suit thus far.

We headed up the stairs and quickly identified Nikki’s room by the one doorknob that was different from the rest – a crystal. I suspected her knob was as much defiance as she could muster with a mother who kept such a pristine and orderly home.

MJ nodded to her door and I pulled down my sweatshirt over my hand so I wouldn’t leave fingerprints as I turned the crystal. The door slid open revealing a room that was a jarring contrast to the rest of the house.
“Dang,” breathed MJ.

Inside Nikki’s room, deep colors of black, purple, and gray flooded everything. Charcoal drawings and vinyl records hung everywhere, and black armchairs were tossed with shimmering purple pillows. The effect was insanely awesome, but entirely not the pink princess that I assumed Nikki was. I thought I was going to see wall-to-wall cheerleading confetti and her field hockey stuff. I was expecting to see boy-bands framed on the walls and crystal chandeliers.
But this?  This was a collision of classic rock and twisted art and it looked sick.

MJ moved past me into the room to one wall that was partially painted as a chalkboard. On it, Nikki had written different phrases and poems, but one took up the center of the black rectangle. She had scrawled it in a dark red and MJ stood still as he read it.

 
Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart.

Of its constant hunger.
For whatever it wants.

Sometimes I'm terrified of my heart. The way it stops.

I looked back to my friend as we stood in front of the blackboard inside Nikki’s secretive world. “Uh . . . that’s interesting.”

MJ pointed to the words, “These are lyrics from a songwriter called Poe. I’m weirdly impressed – and a little alarmed. This seems pretty dark for how she always appears.”

I wrapped my arms around me, oddly cold. “Does Nikki really have any friends? I mean
, I know people do her bidding and whatnot, but does she have any real friends?”

MJ shook his head, looking both sad and angry, “I don’t know. Honestly I spent so much time avoiding her that I didn’t really get to know her.”

I reached out for his hand and took it in my own and gave it a squeeze. “Tomorrow is another day. Tonight we need to look for Elizabeth’s necklace, but tomorrow maybe we can try to say ‘hello’ to Nikki without her throwing something at us.”

“I wouldn’t hold your breath about that,” replied MJ with a faint smile. He scanned the room. “Where do we start?”

“Well, Elizabeth’s necklace was made of cut diamonds. I doubt Nikki would just leave it lying around. If I was her, I’d put it in a jewelry box or safe.” I walked over towards Nikki’s dresser and started searching the polished wood top, using my sleeves once again. MJ did the same, as he carefully opened little boxes and jars on Nikki’s dresser.

I started pulling open drawers, but all they seemed to contain were clothes. I moved over to her bed and got down on my hands and knees and looked underneath. She had tucked away several boxes under the
boxspring, so I dragged them out one by one and searched each. Most were scrapbooking stuff – a photo of a little blonde baby being held by a teenaged boy, ticket stubs to bands I’d never heard of, BHS bling, but nothing remotely like a priceless, antique necklace.

I pushed the box back to its cozy home under the bed and sat back on my heels, looking around the room. At the far side of her bedroom was a set of double doors and I got to my feet, going on instinct that they either lead to a bathroom or closet. MJ saw me and followed.
 

I pulled the handles towards us and was rewarded with a very dark, very large, closet. MJ squinted as he moved into the massive walk-in and felt along the wall. I heard a click and immediately the space was flooded with light. One glance in any direction, and it was very obvious that Nikki Shea would never be lacking in the wardrobe department. “I think she may have cleared out every major clothing retailer on the East Coast,” I said, wandering down the wall of clothes and shoes.

“I’d be much more impressed if this was floor to ceiling movies,” mumbled MJ.

I glanced back at him and smiled. “Me too.”

I made my way to the last section of the closet, which had a sitting area complete with pin-striped lounge chair. Tucked to the left behind the last chunk of clothing was a large bookcase, stuffed with books.

“Wow. She reads. Who’d a
thunk it?” I exclaimed, approaching the bookcase and scanning the titles. Some of the bindings looked pretty old and weathered, as if from an antique shop.

I felt MJ come up behind me and reach past my shoulder to one of the books. “CARRIE,” he announced, pulling out Stephen King’s epic classic about a dangerous teenager who flattens a town. “How appropriate.”

“Appropriate for Nikki . . . or me?” I asked, narrowing my eyes at the book in his hand.

“Uh . . . both?” he grinned, sheepishly. I punched him in his arm, determined to be insulted. The only problem was, I probably COULD flatten the town, though I hoped I would never do so simply because I was pissed. I continued looking along the row of books, but then my eye grazed over a petite book with a brown leather binding and my heartbeat began pounding in my ears.

There, sitting between Shakespeare and Poe, was the symbol I had been drawing over and over, engraved on a leather spine. I grabbed for the book and damn near toppled MJ in the process. “Jeez – what’s wrong?”

I didn’t respond and instead ran to the middle of the closet under the best light and dropped to my knees, the book in my lap. I carefully opened the fragile cover, revealing tons of writing. MJ lowered himself next to me. “What is it?” he asked, as I drew one finger gently over the yellowed pages.

“I’m not sure, but the binding has that same mark Sula drew. The same mark I’ve been drawing from the gear.”

“No way!” he exclaimed, scooting closer to the small book. The writing was faded and appeared to be in French, which might as well have been Klingon for all the good it did me. I took Spanish in high school, thinking that would be the most useful language.
Apparently not. “I think it may be an old journal of some sort, but I have no clue what it says. Can you read French?”

MJ looked at me as if I had sprouted the head of a Back Street Boy. “Yeah right. It’s a miracle if I can understand any tourist south of the Carolinas! What do you think this is?”

“Damn if I know. This book has got to be important. Do you think Nikki can read it? What if it says stuff about Elizabeth? What if she knows about my family and . . . oh my god, ME?”

MJ’s eyes widened, “That would seriously suck. What if she knows about Raef and --” MJs words trailed off as his attention was diverted to something under the
bookcase.

“What?” I asked as he leaned to the side and dragged a wooden box from a hidden area under the bottom shelf. He slowly opened it and there, sitting inside, was Elizabeth’s necklace. The Devil must’ve been
ice skating, because I knew Hell had to have frozen over.

“We did it,” I breathed, totally floored. “We found the damn thing. I can’t believe we actually
– .” My words halted on my lips as the familiar sound of the ball-finial hitting the floor echoed through the house.

My eyes widened and MJ instantly signaled me to be quiet as he dashed to the light switch and snapped it off. Plunged into darkness, I scrambled to my feet with the book and necklace, grabbing MJ and pushing us both into the depths of Nikki’s designer clothes. I prayed we couldn’t be seen by whoever else was in the house, now that we were hidden among the racks of long dresses and dark jeans. I slid the necklace over my head and it rested against my chest, pinned in beneath the book I was clutching. My nerves were at
DefCon One.

Jail. Prison. The Pen.

I was definitely going to be wearing a striped jumpsuit.

MJ was stone still beside me as we heard the bedroom door slide open wider, the bottom brushing softly against the thick carpet. I swallowed and moved my head slightly to get a glimpse through the open closet doors and into Nikki’s bedroom. MJ did the same, but I felt his body tense as a guy stepped around the bed, heading toward the bureau.

Dressed from head to toe in black, the slim, tall figure was not Nikki. As the strange visitor turned, I glimpsed his face. His eyes were dark and his skin pale, with a single shamrock tattooed under his ear. This nut was a robber, and by the looks of him, he was aiming to score some quick money, probably for drugs.

Unlike our careful inspection of Nikki’s things, the guy started to ransack her room, yanking the drawers completely out of the beautiful dresser. He dumped her carefully folded clothes onto the floor and began ripping through them, as if searching for something. He yanked the sheets off her bed and managed to haul her mattress off the
boxspring and it crashed into her computer. The bedroom, once a haven, became a battleground and it was disturbing to watch.

“That’s so not cool,” whispered MJ in my ear, as the thief continued to destroy Nikki’s sanctuary. He stopped for a moment after demolishing a large portion of her room and looked directly at the darkened closet where we were hiding. He began walking towards where we were hidden, but he halted when the sound of the front door closing echoed up from the first floor, along with the sound of keys being dropped on a granite counter top.

The robber turned slowly to look at the open bedroom door, listening. In the darkness my hand found MJ’s and I squeezed it, terrified for whomever had just returned. I prayed that they had all come back together. Safety in numbers, though this guy standing in the middle of Nikki’s now ravaged room looked like he wasn’t all there. Dangerous, as only a drug-addict can be when obsessed.

Then we all heard it.

Singing, off-key, as if the song-bird was wearing headphones.

Nikki had come home and it sounded like she was alone. MJ’s hand clamped down on my own in a vise grip as the silent dude in black pulled a small object from his jacket pocket and headed for the door. The light from the hall caught the glint of a silver blade in his hand as Nikki, on the first floor and unaware, continued to sing.

As soon as the robber left the bedroom, I slammed into panic mode.

“Oh my god! We’ve got to do something! We’ve got to - what the hell are you doing?” I demanded as quietly as I could, finally realizing MJ was stripping out of his clothes. He began shoving his things into my arms and I fumbled to hold everything.

 “What do you think I’m doing? I’m going to phase and tear that jackass limb from limb! Take my stuff and sneak out and get back to the Bronco. I’ll meet you there!”

“No way! I’m not leaving you with – oh jeez!” I snapped my eyes closed as MJ shed the last scrap of his clothing. I held still, listening and not daring to peek in case I got an eyeful of the anatomically correct, human side of my male co-conspirator. “MJ?” I whispered after a few seconds, but then felt a wide, soft head roll against my arm. I opened my eyes and watched as Marsh moved to the center of the closet.

Being a shape-shifter certainly had its perks.

I was about to protest the idea of me leaving him behind, when a terrified scream rang out from the first floor. Marsh shot out of the closet and through the bedroom door to the stairs like a four-footed bullet. I dashed after him, his clothes and shoes tucked into my arms.

I heard Nikki pleading and something smashed, but then I heard a deafening bark and dangerous snarl. The kitchen went silent except for the sound of Marsh’s toenails slowly ticking across tile floor and a blood-chilling growl rolled slowly through the house.

I angled myself at the bottom of the stairs and was able to see Nikki on the floor in an ice blue dress, her back wedged against the base of the kitchen island, her forehead bleeding. She watched, wide-eyed and terrified
, as Marsh carefully placed himself between her and the knife-wielding intruder. No doubt she was both grateful and shocked to see the local stray in her house.

Marsh had his teeth bared, his hackles
raised, and looked like a demon dog with a lust for home invaders. The guy, knife still in hand, swapped his weight from foot to foot. Marsh suddenly lunged and the robber flailed backward, slamming to the ground.

Marsh pinned the sharp blade to the floor, roaring and snapping at the robber’s face. For one horrible moment, I actually though
t MJ might kill him. The guy struggled with Marsh, who finally let him free. The robber jumped, snatching his knife from the ground as he hauled through the back door.

Marsh snorted and turned slowly to face Nikki, who managed to scramble into a sitting position, though she was shaking. Slowly, carefully, Marsh stepped towards her. He lowered himself to the ground as he came nearer to her, scooting along on his belly and turning himself from vicious attack dog to sweet puppy looking for a friend.
  He stopped when he was close enough for Nikki to touch him if she chose. For a while, she simply clung to herself as the blood trickled down her forehead, looking at Marsh with confusion and fear painted on her face. Marsh slowly began to wag his tail and flipped his ears forward and back.