Beautifully Unnatural: A Young Adult Paranormal Boxed Set (108 page)

Her father. She didn’t want to introduce him to her father. His gut twisted at the realization that she didn’t want her father to meet him.

Heavy steps sounded on the front porch and Sammy pulled his arm toward the path home. “I know. I feel it, too.”

Anger, resentment, depression, concern, and so much more invaded his senses. But did it come from her father, or himself?

He shook his head and pushed the feelings away. The farther they walked, the more the feelings subsided. Human emotions were still difficult to process.

Maybe some time alone with his thoughts would be good. He needed to settle his emotions and focus on protecting Gabby. When they reached the house, Alexander turned to his car. A drive always helped clear his head. Well, when he couldn’t fly in fear of being spotted in daylight.

“What’s going on with you?” Sammy pulled on the back of his shirt. “We need to make a plan so you don’t go off like a cannon every time Forras is around.”

“I need some time. I’ll work on controlling these crazy human emotions and figuring out a plan. This figuring things out as we go is getting too messy.”

Sammy tucked her short dark hair behind her ear. “Listen, I can see you’re struggling. Talk to me.”

“There’s nothing to talk about.”

“Seriously? You walk around with the world on your shoulders. You think it’s your personal job to protect everyone. It’s not, I’m here and I’ll help with Gabby. I like her. She’s nice and I don’t want to see her fall into a world of darkness, but you need to work with me, not against me.”

“I’m not working against you.”

Sammy huffed. “You are. Every time you push me away and take on this role alone you take a chance with your soul. Do you want to end up falling to hell?”

“That’s not fair.” Alexander fought the rising sting in his throat. “I’m fine. You don’t have to worry about me.” He turned away from her and headed to the side of the house.

Sammy put her hands on her hips. “Where are you going?”

Alexander held up one hand. “I’m not going to pick a fight with Forras, promise.”

“Then where?”

“To get a ‘How to Fix Boats for Dummies’ book.”

“What?” Sammy asked.

“Nothing.” Alexander rounded the house to the front drive. The brown mutt crawled out from under his car and sat waiting for him.

He took pitty on the poor creature and patted him on the head the opened his car door. The dog darted inside and sat down in the back seat. “What do you think you’re doing?”

The dog barked his response.

“You want to go for a ride?” Alexander asked.

He barked again.

“Fine.” Alexander jumped in his car and headed to the road. The dog needed a bath, but even over his stench, Gabby’s scent still lingered on him.

He couldn’t give into temptations brought on by human emotions or he’d pose a bigger threat to Gabby than Forras did, and he refused to ever be a threat to her, or anyone, again.

****

Gabby sat down on the couch. Finding out she was going to attend school, meeting a new friend, and having a first date was all so amazing. Life had never been this kind. If her father found out, she’d lose everything overnight.

She fidgeted with a few items on the coffee table and tried to slow her racing heart.

Her dad flung the door open with a bang, making her jump. Blood seeped through his white button down shirt. A long gash from his shoulder down his bicep oozed, and his right arm was secured against his chest with a makeshift splint.

“Hey, Gabby,” he said, his voice husky from stress.

When his hair was messed up like that and his speech slurred, it meant only one thing. And the brown paper bag clutched in his left hand confirmed her suspicions.

Dread crept in.
It’s going to be a long night.

Gabby grabbed his elbow to help him to the couch, her legs buckling from his weight. “What happened?” she asked with trepidation. The smell on his clothes of old rotten garbage made her gag. Was he left to die in a dumpster after being beaten?

“Just the job, babe. Got too close to a bad guy.”

“This is crazy. How many times do you have to get hurt before you quit? It’s not worth it.” Gabby trembled with rage, knowing he was lying, covering what he really did for a living.

“Don’t do this, Gabby. You know I have to work, and this is what I have to do. I’m doing it to keep you safe.” He raked a swollen hand through his greasy brown hair and slumped onto the old faded couch. When his six-foot frame shrunk down, she could finally see the extent of his lacerations.

“How is getting yourself killed going to keep me safe? You’re the only parent I have left. When are you going to tell me the truth? What are you really doing?” Her voice rose, anger seeping out of every pore of her body.

“Watch your tone, young lady.” His eyebrows lowered and drew together.

Her mouth opened and the shouts of frustration sat on her tongue, but she pressed her lips tight together knowing it would only make things worse. Huffing under her breath, she marched through the kitchen and retrieved the first aid kit from the hall closet. Returning to his side, she pulled bandages, thread, and a prepackaged sterile needle out of the kit while trying to steady her hands.

“I don’t understand why you can’t let someone else defend our country. You served your time in the military and as a civilian. How much more are you going to put yourself through?”

“Until we’re all safe.”

“From what? Terrorists? Criminals? There’s always going to be another bad guy, Dad. You can’t beat them all.” Her voice quivered despite her angry tone. She wanted to ask him if he was the bad guy. A hit man, CIA or possessed by some evil forcing him to ingest alcohol and pick fights, but she wouldn’t chance a first class ticket back to a hospital for paranoid delusions. Besides, if he was a hit man or some bigwig at CIA, certainly they’d be living better than this.

“I can try,” he said softly.

Her father threaded the needle as she cleaned his bicep with iodine, revealing a three-inch long gash. Blood didn’t faze her, not anymore, but the needle did. She flinched at the sight of her father pushing the needle through one side and pulling it out the other. The way his skin pulled with the thread made her queasy.

“I know there is more than what you’re telling me. I’m not a child anymore. Daddy, please quit. We can find another way to pay the bills. I can get a part time job to help. You’ve done enough.”

“What’s enough?”

“It already cost you your wife. Would you risk your own life, leaving me orphaned?” It came out so fast she didn’t have time to stop herself. It was horrible and untrue. He didn’t have anything to do with her mother’s death. He blamed himself because he was driving the car that night. But it wasn’t his fault, it couldn’t have been.

The hurt in his eyes broke her heart. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She didn’t know what else to say.

The first aid kit dropped to the floor as she stood, once again feeling like her world was spinning out of control, and went to her room to sulk.

She retrieved the pill bottle from her top drawer and sat on the side of her bed, rolling the brown canister between her palms. To take or not to take? If she did, she’d be able to sleep. Of course, she’d be a walking zombie tomorrow. Tomorrow she couldn’t do that. She had a date.

She sighed in frustration. Her father had ruined everything, keeping her isolated for so long.

She took long cleansing breaths to stave off the inner darkness clawing to escape the little compartment she’d tucked him into. The creature that ate her courage and caused her heart to race, pulse to thunder, and muscles to cramp from fatigue. No, she wouldn’t let it out. Instead, she leaned back in bed and closed her eyes, willing herself to clear her mind and relax.

It took forever before she fell asleep, and even then, she tossed and turned restlessly. Visions of darkness and evil filled her dreams. Familiar monsters clawed and tore at her flesh. Bright lights exploded, smothering her in suffocating pain.

Her own screams startled her awake. It had seemed so terrifyingly real. She bolted up and instinctively grabbed for the pill bottle, but it fell from her nightstand and rolled across the floor. She curled her knees to her chest and rocked until the fear subsided. A glance at the clock beside her bed revealed it was only three in the morning, but she knew she couldn’t go back to sleep. Not with those visions fresh in her head. Releasing her legs, she swiveled and touched one toe to the floor, as if to see if a creature would lash out from under her bed to grab her foot and yank her into the nether world. She placed her other foot down then made her way to her makeshift art desk to draw, to release the beast onto paper.

The first picture, full of the familiar army greens, tree-bark browns, and charcoal gray swirled together into what looked like several creatures fighting. They resembled a cross between a bear and a coyote, with the hunched back of a buffalo.

The next one showed shades of orange and gold, with silver-lined clouds. Another sunset over an ocean that started out tranquil, but at the bottom, dark colors with claws overtook the white clouds.

The last one looked like her room. The white wings she had painted before appeared to be wrapped in a cocoon, while a daffodil yellow light shone from the top of the bed.

All of them were strange, each one evoked a different emotion when she looked at them. Fright. Concern. Peace. Sighing, she slipped them into the leather portfolio her mother had given her just days before she’d died.

Gabby stood, stretching the kinks from her low back and headed downstairs to get a bottle of water.

When she looked in on her father, he lay stretched out, asleep on the couch with an empty bottle of whiskey on the floor. He still wore his bloodstained shirt. Two days’ worth of beard growth shadowed his face.

She froze. Her pulse thundered in her ears as she stood there, staring at him. Sweat dripped down her face as an image flashed back to her.

The water bottle hit the floor with a thud.

She raced up the stairs to her room and tore open the old trunk her mother had given her. Papers flew everywhere as she ripped through binders and notebooks until she found it.

The drawing of her father. The whiskey bottle, bloody shirt, and the position of his body were identical.

Except she’d painted it eight months ago.

Chapter Five

Gabby rubbed her calf free of the charley horse and fell back against the musty chair, her entire body fatigued from the morning cheer workout. Despite all the tossing, turning and worrying about her father that kept her awake last night, energy still flowed through her at the thought of Alexander arriving at any moment.

She pushed from the chair and glanced in the small mirror hanging in the hall. Dabbing at the bags under her eyes, she noticed the concealer she strategically applied that morning to cover the dark circles had sweated away.

Two knocks at the front door. No time to do anything about it now. With forced control, she inched the door open and stepped outside until she stood eye to eye with Alexander. His sandy-blond hair, darkened by the rain, fell over his brow, accentuating his bright eyes.

They stood there a moment in silence, before he cleared his throat and stepped forward. “How was your first private cheer lesson?” he asked, as he swept a loose piece of hair from her face.

A cool breeze meandered through the front lawn of Gabby’s house, rustling her hair.

She huffed. “Brutal. Where did happy Sammy, with the cheery disposition, go? She’s more like a-a—”

“Drill sergeant?”

“Exactly.”

“Yeah, she’s serious about her cheering,” he said with a chuckle.

A raindrop hit her face and he brushed it away with his finger. He was so close to her. Blood rushed to her head and her heart pounded against her chest. Should she lift her head and look at him? She fidgeted with the frayed pieces on her jean shorts.

His hand touched her chin and raised it up so their eyes met. “You okay?”

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

He leaned in closer. “Are you sure?”

She tried to talk, to breathe, but nothing happened.

Move. Say something.

Behind him a steady drizzle was coming down. She pointed to the clouds above his head, breaking the moment between them. “I guess we won’t make it to the boathouse right now.”

He turned to look up at the sky. “Yeah, might have to wait a bit,” he said.

Noticing the basket in his hand, she tipped her head toward it. “What’s in there? Motor oil? Wrenches? A sander?” Gabby said with a laugh.

“No, just a few spark plugs. But I figured we might get hungry and…” He shrugged.

“Great idea. We can eat lunch while we wait out the storm.”

Her hands trembled as she opened the front door to the dark-paneled living room. She pushed the scarred coffee table to the side and helped Alexander spread a blanket on the living room floor. Its checkered, soft cloth covered the old shag carpet. A well-defined arm reached in front of her and placed the basket down. When she followed the toned muscles up to their source, he smiled, revealing those amazing dimples.