Authors: Colleen Gleason
But now it was open and the gusty wind had gathered up dead leaves and loose grit, spinning them into a dirt devil. Quickly, she rushed to the door so she could shut it before all that dirt blew in. That’s when she noticed the flowers.
The neatly planted rows had been yanked up and tossed across the yard and out into the street. Stunned by the vandalism, she stepped outside, dirt devils forgotten as she surveyed the damage.
She looked up and down the deserted street, feeling suddenly isolated and afraid. Open curtains, doused candles and exhumed flowers weren’t usually the stuff of nightmares, but down to her bones, Maggie felt threatened. The flowers hadn’t been in the earth long and they’d come free in compact little sections that looked like corpses in the murky shadows. No culprits were in sight. No fading footsteps to confirm this was all the work of neighborhood pranksters.
An eerie scratching sound spun her around. Her SUV was parked in the driveway. The vehicle wasn’t new, but Maggie kept it in mint condition, despite having to haul two kids around. She had to. Usually she was driving her clients, not meeting them. The vehicle was a pretty blue that shimmered in the sun, but while she’d been inside, someone had gouged deep scratches in the hood and doors. Random, intersecting lines that marred every panel and looped around handles and windows. The haphazard scratches seemed profane and threatening. She stared at them in horror until the slamming front door spun her around yet again.
The wind stopped completely in the space of a breath, leaving the air so still it seemed solid. Thick and tight. Shrink wrap to her fear.
One of the elms groaned and a flash of black moved among the branches. Maggie yelped, backing up as it emerged, sailing from the gloom to the rain gutter over the garage.
A broken laugh bubbled up. A bird. Nothing but a bird. But another dark flutter drew her attention back to the yard and held it captive.
Scattered among the mutilated flowers sat dozens of big, black birds. An entire flock from the numbers, all looking at her. She’d never seen so many in one yard. Never knew they grew to be so big. More landed on the roof, the railing of the front porch. The one perched on the gutter over the garage cocked its head and stared at her with shiny, round eyes. It opened its beak, flashing a black maw as it squawked angrily.
Maggie took another step back, so close to a meltdown that she could barely move. There were so many and they kept coming, as if some birdy dinner bell had been rung. They fluttered and ruffled, cawed and pecked, irritating one another, squawking vehemently.
She glanced over her shoulder. The neighbor’s yard looked pristine. Not even a dove perched in the trees. Same thing on the other side and across the street.
We can hurt you,
a voice whispered in her head.
Peck, peck, peck at your eyes
.
Black wings spread wide and the big one—Jesus she’d never seen a bird so big—soared down from the gutter, skimming the air with those oily feathers, long spindly feet hanging, claws curled. It came right at her. Maggie shrieked, ducked and covered her head. Its talons grazed the flesh of her forearm, leaving burning welts behind. Suddenly all of the birds took to the air, dive bombing, backing her down the walk. They dragged their claws through her hair, snagged her blouse and scratched the arms she held over her head to protect her face.
She screamed and flailed, trying to run, but she couldn’t see where she was going. She stumbled over the walk, her toe catching in one of the holes left from the uprooted flowers. She fell head first into the grass, skinning her knees and tearing her skirt. The birds swooped down on her instantly, claws and beaks everywhere. She scrambled to her feet, kicking off her shoes as she dashed to her SUV, but her purse was inside on the counter, and the SUV would be locked because she always locked it, just in case.
Like wasps, the ravens swarmed around her and all she could do was fight them off as she bolted back to the house, convinced the door would be locked against her, suspicious when it wasn’t. She slammed it hard when they tried to follow her in. One succeeded. The fat one that had seemed to speak.
Good God, she’d lost her mind.
She was panting, gasping and crying all at once. Her entire body shook with reaction. She leaned against the door, refusing to give into the insane fear that made her want to keep screaming.
“You’re safe, you’re safe,” she whispered, as if that would convince her that it was true. “Just one bird. It can’t hurt you.”
But it could, and they both knew it. The creature opened its beak in a macabre chuckle.
“
Ha!
” she shouted and stomped her foot at it.
The bird scuttled back a few steps but looked amused by her efforts to scare it. Suddenly, Maggie’s fear turned to rage. Whatever madness this was, she’d had enough. She forced herself forward, charging the stupid bird like she wasn’t terrified. It took flight, circling the vast living room. It perched on the chandelier that dangled in the foyer.
They’re mine. You can’t have them
.
She didn’t know what that meant, but was pretty sure it had something to do with her sanity.
Maggie kept her eyes on the raven as she backed into the kitchen, bare feet damp and slippery on the tile. Without looking away from the vile raven—crow—whatever it was, she snatched her purse off the counter, holding it against her chest as she dug out her phone. Her hand shook so hard she had to enter her password twice. Blood welled up in the scratches on her arms and they stung like they’d been filled with acid. Her trembling finger hovered over the keypad. She wanted to dial nine-one-one, but what would she say to the emergency operator? Someone had closed her curtains, dug up her flowers and sent a flock of black birds to scare her? She’d probably end up arrested or committed. Maybe they’d give her the padded room next to Janet’s.
She wanted to breakdown and cry. She wanted to call Sam and tell him to come get her. He wouldn’t laugh at her, wouldn’t make her feel like she’d lost her mind. She knew that in a deep place that only spoke truth. But he didn’t even have a car anymore—at least not that he remembered—and she still felt leery about depending on him. It was too soon for that.
Besides, there was the whole
Reaper Thing
.
Yet her fingers moved, dialing the house phone since Sam didn’t have a cell anymore. It rang relentlessly until the machine picked up. Where was he? Fear curdled in her stomach. Had he vanished again just like last time? She tapped
End
and tried Lexi’s phone. It rang and rang without answer, too.
Fuck
.
The vulgar word sounded strong in her head and it stiffened her spine. Still watching the raven on the chandelier, she moved to the window and aimed her key fob. The SUV’s lights flashed and the faint
thunk
of the locks releasing reached her ears. The birds on the lawn all turned their heads in unison, daring her to make a break. Her arms had a hundred scratches on them, her shirt had been torn, and her skirt was ripped up the seam in the back from when she’d fallen. The thought of going back out there, terrified her.
Don’t you know who we are, Miss Fancy Pants?
Cold sweat covered her body. Janet had called her that the day she’d warned Maggie that the family she loved wouldn’t be hers for long.
She shot a look at the big, black bird. It stared back with those round eyes, so intent that she wanted to scream again. In her mind, she plotted her escape route. She still didn’t know who had ripped out the flowers—the birds couldn’t have done that, right?—but whoever had could be in the house right now. Which would be worse? Claws and beaks.
...
peck, peck, peck at your eyes
...
or whoever waited, hidden somewhere inside?
She didn’t know, but she couldn’t stay here.
With a deep breath, she moved to the hall where the laundry room opened into the garage. The bird shifted so it could watch her progress. It realized her destination too late. The big wings spread and the raven dove just as she stepped into the laundry room and shut the door. She heard the thud of its body as it bounced off the panels and onto the tile. Instantly, the beak poked under the gap at the floor.
She clapped her hand over her mouth and fumbled for the knob of the door behind her. The garage smelled of oil and paint. She stood on the cold concrete barefoot, wrecked and shaking all over. Purse clutched to her side, car keys firmly in hand, she pushed the button on the wall and started to run, braced for the attack. A scream was lodged somewhere in her throat; she couldn’t get it out and she couldn’t breathe around it.
Bending to slip under the lifting door, Maggie came out in sunshine, quiet ... and face-to-face with her stunned clients.
Sam needn’t have worried about delaying his next move. The thing that stalked them had little patience. The smear that appeared against the wall took shape, then color. Horrified, he and Lexi watched as it solidified into human form. Justin had always referred to it as
she
. Now, he knew why.
Hazy around the edges, but undeniably female, the thing had long matted hair and wore tattered, bloody clothes. One side of its head had caved in, leaving gore and blood to streak what was left of its face and trail in rivulets down its throat. The blouse it had on might once have been blue, but dirt and blood had seeped into the fibers making it a rusted gray. Jeans still covered its hips and legs, but only shoe was on its feet. Every exposed inch of skin had wounds and withering flesh. Freshly dead, just as he'd suspected when he’d first caught its scent in Justin’s closet.
“Dad ...” Lexi said fearfully. “Do you see it?”
“I see it,” he answered grimly.
A spirit like any other he’d ferried to the other side, yet this one hadn’t made its journey and the
why
rode its shoulders like a cape. The demon was small and black, a slithering entity that had sunk deep talons into the spirit it held.
He didn’t understand that. If this female had bargained with her soul, the demon should have taken her back to its lair and feasted in the way demons were wont to do. Why was it here? What did it wait for?
“Dad,” Lexi said again, turning her face into his chest as his arms came around. “Is that mom?”
He would never know if it was the whimpered question ... his daughter’s fear ... or perhaps simply the moment of reckoning that did it, but suddenly the floodgates in his head opened up and all the memory that had hidden behind the blank slate of his brain burst forth. Images slammed against his mind in a rapid fire, out of order, nonsensical ... right up until the point when it all came together.
Janet—yes, it was her. It had always been her. She’d been released from the facility that had cared for her last year. He hadn’t known. By then he was married to Maggie. Janet had shown up at work, looking normal, sane ... wanting to see the children.
He knew the kids would never heal until they had some closure with her. He’d hoped that somehow the treatment she’d undergone had cured her. But she’d grown angry when he’d insisted she see them under supervision and left in a fury. For a few days, he’d hoped ... God how he’d hoped.
He hadn’t know that she’d found more than mental help in the hospital. She’d found a way to talk to the demons that had been in her head. She’d made a deal—a two-for-one bargain with the demon who lived off her soul now. She’d infected Sam with its corruption and it had begun to eat away his mind, making him erratic, psychotic, paranoid—all of the symptoms Maggie and the kids remembered. He’d run away to escape and to protect them, just as the Reaper had suspected all along.
But he’d made a mistake. He’d come back and Janet had found him.
Sam staggered, pulling Lexi back with him as the final moments of his old life washed over him. Janet had lain in wait at his apartment, confronted him with a gun and shot him when he still refused to join her in the glory of the dark side. She’d planned the murder to the moment, knowing that this corrupted soul would be unable to resist the demon once the body was dead.
But she hadn’t killed Sam. And she hadn’t counted on a certain Reaper who’d kept them both alive.
His last memory before the hospital was of watching her get in his car and drive away while his blood drained onto the asphalt.
So how had she died? How had they come to this point?
He didn’t have time to find out. He needed to protect Lexi, get her out of this toxic place before the thing that Janet had become decided to use his daughter as a pawn. He pushed Lexi behind him, and stepped to the door just as it opened and Maggie limped in, dressed in an oversized t-shirt and stretchy pants. Angry scratches covered her arms and terror filled her eyes.
And Justin entered right behind her.
There were too many things for Maggie to take in all at once. She saw Sam first, standing at the edge of the foyer, his face pale, his eyes wide with ... fear? Is that what she saw? Lexi was right behind him, clinging to his arm. She was definitely afraid, but of what? From outside, an engine revved as a car came around the corner and stopped in front of her house. She glanced back, saw Detectives Hartman and Bulldog get out, drawn expressions on their faces.
“Maggie,” Sam said. “Take Justin and go outside.”
“What’s goin—”
“Now, Maggie.”
“It’s her,” Justin cried.
Maggie looked down at Justin and followed the line of his gaze to a point on the stairs. And from there, all rational thought vanished.
An apparition stood halfway down. It was a woman dressed in ragged clothing, missing a shoe. She had long, straggly hair and a bloody face that had been bashed in on one side. Janet. She was filthy and stank of the same odor Maggie had smelled at the Scottsdale property.
Sam was inching his way to the door, Lexi still cowering behind him. When he drew even with Maggie, he said, “Get the kids out of here.”
And finally, Maggie topped over the edge into belief. He’d been telling the truth all along.