Read Nameless: The Darkness Comes Online
Authors: Mercedes M. Yardley
I was sitting at the kitchen table staring at my ill-gotten vial of blood when the phone rang.
“Hey,” Seth said.
“I made a few phone calls today. I think we’ve been going about it all wrong. We’ll never get Lydia back this way. We’re going to have to make some changes to the plan.”
I tossed the dark red vial from hand to hand.
From the look of things, Bradley Guzman had an iron count that would make Tony Stark blush. He also needed to hydrate more, but it didn’t seem in my best interest to track him down and let him and the demon know.
“What plan?
The fight at OK Corral plan? Where I heroically find Lydia and snatch her away from the jaws of Demonic Sparkles?”
He sighed. “Yes.
That plan. How’s it working for us so far?”
I growled.
“Exactly.”
“So what does the new and improved plan entail?”
He suddenly sounded very weary. “We have to look as stable as possible. Can you do that? Act like a fine upstanding citizen? I’ll try not to kill myself and you don’t act crazy.”
I eyed the vial suspiciously.
“I can do that.” I think.
“Good.
I’ll be home in a few. Then we can talk.”
I slid the phone back into my pocket and groaned. Of all the times to turn
klepto about bodily fluids.
“What are you so down about?”
I shot upright, wrapping my fingers around the vial and hiding it from view.
“What are you doing here, Mouth?”
He flowed over, sat in the seat beside me.
“Hello to you, too.”
Whatever. I still hadn’t forgiven him for sending me into Hell House. I’d see Lydia’s mutilated body in my mind’s eye until the day I died. You don’t just get over something like that.
“What do you want?”
He went even wispier than usual, but I didn’t care.
“You don’t sound very happy to see me,” he said.
The jauntiness was gone and he sounded hurt. Do demons even feel hurt?
“I’m not.
I have a lot on my mind. I’m trying to act as perfectly normal as possible, for some mysterious reason that Seth will elaborate on later. That doesn’t involve talking to you when he walks through the door, so say your piece and get out.”
“You should be nicer to me.”
Simple words, but his tone made my breath catch. It sounded like ice and fog and darkness. It sounded like the voice of a demon with authority.
It made me afraid.
I was tired of being afraid, and that just made me downright mad.
“Listen, you,” I hissed, and jabbed my finger toward his chest.
It was encased in the surging blackness that was building up around him. “I don’t like being threatened, got it? Especially in my own house. I don’t trust you.“ I jabbed him with my finger again. “I don’t like your kind,“ jab, “and right now I don’t like
you
. If you have something to say, then say it. If you don’t, then leave. You aren’t welcome here.”
Mouth surged to his feet.
He was taller than usual, black and angry. My instinct was to shrink back, but I countered that by standing straighter and putting both hands on the table to brace myself.
“You forget yourself, Luna.
You forget who I am. You forget what I am. Do not anger me, human. I have more power than you.”
“Get out
,” I yelled. The rage in my voice surprised me. “Just get out of here. Uninvited!”
The darkness blossomed out of him like a burst of pollen from a deadly flower.
It filled the room and then receded back to his body, a sickly halo.
“I was going to tell you how to get Lydia back.
It goes against everything I stand for, breaking every oath I took. I was going to do it for you. But you’re not worth the eternity of torment that would have ensued. I can’t believe I was so foolish. I’m only glad I realized it now.”
The Mark
seared between my shoulder blades and I dropped to the floor. The pain was so intense that I couldn’t even pull myself to my knees. I gritted my teeth together to keep from screaming. The vial of blood fell from my hand and rolled across the linoleum.
Mouth looked at it and smirked.
“Clever,” he said. He shouted a word in a strange language and the vial shattered, spraying blood in a small circle on the floor. I closed my eyes and turned my face away, praying I didn’t get any on me, that it wouldn’t work its way into my mouth or my eyes.
“Look at you,”
the demon said, and the disgust in his voice hurt my stomach. “How could I have possibly thought you were worth it?”
He flowed backwards and through the door.
The pain of the Mark and the terror was too much for me. I threw up on the floor, twice, and curled into a shivering ball.
The door opened again.
I cringed, unsure if I would be able to stand another attack.
“
Cripes,” Seth said, dropping several grocery bags onto the kitchen floor. He surveyed the scene and blew out a breath. “I tell you that we need to act normal, and this is what I get?”
Normal is as normal does.
The very next day
I was sitting on a carefully neutral couch, staring into the face of a carefully neutral woman.
“What are you thinking?”
Sheila the Counselor asked me. Her voice was, no surprise, carefully neutral.
I was t
hinking that I hated this place, and it was a shame to spend my lunch break doing something so banal. I was thinking that Seth’s idea of playing by the rules totally bites, especially since it meant meeting with a counselor to see if we’re crazycakes. I’m thinking that this broad could use a little pizazz, like some bright lipstick or highlights in her hair. That made me think of Reed Taylor, which made me think that I hate myself a little bit. And that made me mad, which made me hate everything else. A lot.
“I was think
ing about how my motorcycle is in the shop, and how grateful I am to my kind brother for letting me borrow his car today. He’s so caring and responsible.”
I tuck my combat boots neatly together and smile
d demurely at the woman. She almost smiled back, but not really.
“Luna, you know why we’re here.”
“Yes.”
“Why don’t you tell me in your own words?”
Be normal, be normal, be normal.
“You’re here to determine if my brother and I are stable enough to parent Lydia.”
She blinked her eyes at me. I blinked back.
“Do you think you are?”
“Yes.”
The clock
ticked. Inaction makes me fidgety. Personally, I like my idea better, which was to track Sparkles down using dogs or dark denizens of the night, and then beat her to a bloody pulp with a baseball bat.
“What are you thinking now?” she asked me.
“Well, Sheila, I’m putting together a shopping list in order to make a healthful, nutritious dinner. I’m heading from here to work, and then to the store. I find it useful to multitask.”
After wreaking vengeance on Sparkles, I’d drop Lydia off with Seth.
While he was busy packing so we could flee, I’d take out Reed Taylor’s mailbox out of spite. Maybe get a hit or two on his bike. Following that, I’d whisper sweet things to Mouth until he was calm enough to be happy and fairly substantial. Then I’d break his legs.
“And what is on your grocery list?”
My eyes gleamed with sincerity. “Broccoli. It’s versatile enough to work in several meals and robust enough to last in the fridge. And I could use the iron. I’m a little deficient.”
While Mouth
cursed my existence, I’d head over here and knock Counselor Lady’s block off. Take out all of the windows and definitely that wolf-howling-at-the-moon picture. I mean, seriously? Who decorates like that, for real?
“Tell me about the time you and your brother found your father’s body.”
The mental me immediately ceased all carnage and dropped her baseball bat. The literal me gaped from the couch.
“Wow,” I said. “Way to go for the jugular.”
The counselor arched her brow. “We weren’t getting anywhere with the nicey-nice talk. Iron deficiency? Please.”
I bowed my head.
“I concede defeat, my valiant foe. I underestimated you.”
She laughed.
“Most clients do. It’s this cursed beige room. There isn’t anything I can do about it. Anyway, tell me about that time, Luna. We won’t have time to get into a lot, and this is just an initial assessment, but I sense that gaining custody of your niece is very important to you, and you don’t seem the type to waste time playing games. Do I have you pegged?”
“Completely.
Tell me what I can do to hurry this along.”
“Tell me about that incident.”
I didn’t want to, but I didn’t want to lose Lydia, either. I described it tersely. Seth screaming for me. Him holding onto Dad’s legs to support him while I climbed the chair, stood on tiptoes, and sawed at the rope tied around his neck. The letter pinned to his chest, calling us both by name and telling us he was sorry.
The counselor listened carefully.
“Surely you have formed some theories as to why your father chose to end his life. Do you feel comfortable sharing them with me?”
“No.
Will it help me get Lydia back?”
She
ila smoothed down the arm of her already smooth chair. “Transparency and honesty always work in your favor. If you’re resistant and secretive, others will often wonder what you have to hide.”
I cursed inwardly. This was hitting far too close to home.
“Dad…thought he saw things. Angels and demons.” I chose my words carefully. “I think it eventually became too much for him.”
“Do you believe there is any credibility to these visions of your father?”
This was it, the moment of truth. Do I say, “Heck no, my father was completely bonkers.” It hurt me to even think the words. But the second I said, “Why, sure, I see demons, as well. In fact, your receptionist seems to have a couple locked securely into the back seat of her car,” I could kiss Lydia goodbye.
I thought back to what Seth had told me this morning. “I love you,” he said, and this admission shocked the words out of me.
He looked me in the eyes. “Please come across as normal, Luna. It’s the only way I’ll get my daughter back.”
I faced the counselor firmly.
“I believe he thought he saw the things that he told us. I don’t think he was lying. But actual beings from another realm?” I shook my head, and felt my heart break inside. “I love my father very much, but I think he was unstable.”
Sheila’s
eyes were piercing. “How do you feel about your brother?”
I laughed, but didn’t sound like myself.
“Seth is the most stable guy I know. A real 9 to 5, by-the-book type of guy. He doesn’t deal in hallucinations. He took a couple of different jobs in order to support Lydia after Sparkles left. He would do anything for Sweet Girl. He adores her.”
“Why do you think he attempted to end his own life?”
I felt my face change. It felt like steel. “Sparkles came to see him right before. She physically took Lydia away, and told Seth he wasn’t a good father. I think he wasn’t strong enough to handle her on his own. That woman,” I said honestly, “is absolutely demonic.”
“Harsh words.”
“Harsh woman. Seriously, I don’t think she has a soul.”
The counselor
blinked owlishly. “And why would you say that? Has she ever mistreated Lydia?”
I picked at my black fingernails.
“Mistreated? No. More like ignored. Lydia simply didn’t exist to her. If Sweet Girl was hungry or scared or needed changed, Seth did it. Sparkles brought Lydia out every now and then to get a discount at a store, or look good to somebody, but the second she couldn’t get anything more out of her, Lydia was dropped off with her daddy. Seth was knocking himself out, trying to support the three of them and be a full-time parent. It devastated him when Sparkles left, but I think maybe he was a little relieved, too.”
“Why do you think he might have been relieved?”
I hate biting my nails, which is why I polish them. It didn’t stop me, though. “Sparkles feels…she feels like a storm, right? A big, heavy storm that’s going to blow through and rip everything apart. She’s always building up to a meltdown. And when she was gone, I think maybe Seth could breathe a little. Now he only had to worry about Lydia, not deflecting Sparkles. Does that make sense?”
She didn’t answer the question. Counselors.
“And this is when you moved in? To help Seth care for his daughter after Sparkles left?”
Suddenly I saw myself how she must see me.
Dark smudged eyeliner, black hair with streaks of color. I was wearing torn jeans, my favorite pair of boots, and my AC/DC t-shirt. I looked like some ragamuffin from the ‘80s. I didn’t look like I could parent anybody.
“Listen,” I said, and I sat up straight.
I wrapped my hands tightly in my lap to hide my bitten nails. “I know I don’t look like much. I come across like some smart aleck wayward child, and I get that, I do. But I love Lydia. I love her more than I ever thought it was possible to love anybody. I may not be the best at cooking and, I don’t know, doing those crazy little girl French braids that all of Lydia’s playmates have, but I do my best. I haven’t seen her in a long time, and I miss her. It freaks me out knowing Sparkles took her. I don’t know if she’s left in a dark room somewhere when Sparkles goes out, or if she’s getting enough to eat, or if Sparkles knows she likes to have three songs before bed. Three.” I held up my fingers.
“Which three songs?”
I dashed tears from my eyes with the back of my hand. “Sleep Tight. It’s one my father used to sing to Seth and me when we were little. And then Twinkle Twinkle Little Star. And then How Much Is That Doggy In The Window. All three, in that order. And she’s scared of the dark, so she sleeps with a flashlight. I mean, how is Sparkles going to know that? It’s not like she called to ask. It’s not like Lydia can tell her. I bet she just throws her on the sofa or something and calls it a night.”
“Talking about this is making you emotional.”
I sniffed, hard. The counselor handed me a tissue. I took it grudgingly.
“I’m sorry.”
“There’s nothing to be sorry about.”
“I don’t usually cry.”
“Crying is not a weakness.”
“Sure it is.”
“Did you cry when your father died?”
I pursed my lips together.
“Are we back to this? Didn’t I just bare all with Lydia? Can’t we talk about my lovely nutritious, broccoli-rich dinner that I was telling you about before?”
“What is your main concern with Lydia?”
I stopped and thought. Did I think Sparkles was really going to physically hurt her? Normally I’d say no, but that glance at her demon made me want to scream and hide under the floorboards. She was unpredictable. She could hurt Sweet Little Girl. I could never see her again. She wouldn’t understand what was going on, why I never came for her.
“I never had a chance to say goodbye.”
“And this concerns you?”
“I don’t want her to think Seth and I just abandoned her.”
“Like your parents abandoned you?”
“That’s different.”
“Tell me about your best friend.”
“
Wha—” This broad made my head spin. What was she getting at? “Best friend? I don’t have one right now, I guess.”
“I see.
Somebody that you’re seeing romantically?”
“
Kinda. We just broke up.”
“Who initiated the breakup?”
I eyed her. “I did.”
“I see. No friends at all?”
I didn’t like where this was going. Did I not sound like I had a strong enough support system? Was I not sounding
stable
enough?
“Well, I do.
Have friends, you know. Acquaintances. And one was pretty close for a while. His name is Mouth, but then, uh…” I looked at the floor. “I sort of drove him off.”
Her lips barely curved, but I saw it.
“Has it occurred to you that perhaps you hold people at bay because you don’t want them to leave you? That perhaps you abandon them before they have the chance to abandon you?”
I blinked.
“That doesn’t sound stable at all. Am I totally jacked up? Did I screw up Seth’s chance to get Lydia back?”
“Take a deep breath, Luna.”
I shook my head. “No, listen to me. Yes, yes, abandonment issues, okay? I know how it feels to be left behind and Lydia will never, ever feel that way, not if I can help it. I’m a mess, whatever. But just tell me what I need to do. Dude, I’m already coming to therapy. I’ll tell you about my childhood, I’ll take prescribed zombifying drugs. I’ll even move out of the house if Seth is better off without me. But please, let me show you how stable I can be. I love Lydia more than life. I’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy, and if that was with Sparkles, then I would leave her there. But that’s not where she belongs. She belongs with her daddy. Tell me how to bring her home.”
I looked at my nails again.
Ragged. Torn. Bitten down to the quick except for the right pinky finger. I hadn’t worked my way there yet.
The counselor was smiling, this time genuinely.
“I think that was a very honest, sincere expression of your feelings. It didn’t sound unstable at all.”
“Yeah?”
I studied her face and leaned back in my chair. I arched my brow. “You totally pinned me down. I’m not used to that.”
“You mean I called you on your crap?
”
I grinned.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been told I can be a bit resistant to criticism.”
She looked wry, and suddenly I saw how she might have been in her youth.
Somewhat rebellious, somewhat knee-jerk. Somewhat like me.
“
Resistance isn’t necessarily a bad thing,” she said. “You don’t want to change for everybody that suggests it. But it’s like the old saying about the wind in the trees. Sometimes you need to know when to bend.”