The Darkness of Shadows (19 page)

“Hello, Natalie,” my father said.

My hand tightened around the phone. My voice was constricted by bile.

“Natalie?”

Val nudged me.

“I’ve got your pages.”

“Good, I—”

“I’ll meet you at the Webster building at ten o’clock.” My rivers of sweat threatened to short out the phone. “You know where that is?”

“Looking forward to it,” my father said. “You’ve—”

I hung up and tried to continue breathing.

“Well?” Val said.

“We’re on.”

The industrial park in Fairfield had long been abandoned due to hard economic times. The only occupants of the buildings were the For Sale/Lease signs and the flora and fauna. All that was missing were some tumbleweeds ambling down the block.

We pulled into the lot behind the factory by the truck bays. Wooden pallets littered the area.

My father was standing by a minivan, its side door open, with two Goths inside, one outside. So much for the element of surprise.

We got out and stood in front of the truck.

“Natalie, come with me and Valerie won’t get hurt,” he said.

When your brain detects a potential threat, it narrows your field of attention. I dropped my cane, reached for my pistol, flipped the safety off, and leveled it at my father’s head. I pulled the trigger twice in a smooth motion, just like Lieutenant Guerrero taught me.

The silent Goth from the cemetery dove in front of my father like a Secret Service agent protecting the president.

My father said, “I didn’t think you had it in you, Natalie.”

“Come on!” Val went into warrior mode a nanosecond too late.

WHAM! Two Goths flew at us from a truck bay, knocking us to the ground. Their touch went through me like a cool burn. The gun flew out of my hand and skittered away beneath some pallets.

Val was already on her feet, pushing one attacker away, keeping a watchful eye on the others.

“Why do you have to be so difficult?” my father said.

The Goth standing over me said, “Your minder’s pretty good.”

“My what?”

“Your Protector,” he said as more of his English accent came out. My father outsourced his muscle.

Chatty was Val’s opponent. Blows were exchanged. He pulled a curved blade from under his cloak. Val was fast but didn’t escape the slice across her forearm. Blood eased its way from the slash in her sleeve.

He held the knife like it was show and tell. “I took this from the last Protector I bested.”

“I’ll be sure to return it to her when I’m done,” Val said.

My father’s position didn’t change. He looked bored as two Goths guarded him. Jeeves, my new friend, wasn’t paying much attention—guess he didn’t think I was much of a threat. I slammed the heel of my hand into his pelvic bone. His eyes flew open in a shock of pain as he doubled over. I took advantage of his dumbfounded state and drew both hands back and thumped them over his unprotected ears. His scream wasn’t deafening, more of a squeak. The self-defense stuff Val taught me really worked!

I leveraged myself up with the aid of the truck’s side mirror and stumbled to the mixed martial arts bout.

“So nice of you to join us,” Chatty said. He and his knife made a wide arc in my unsteady direction. Being the Rhodes Scholar that I am, I tried to block it with my hand. The blade sliced across my palm.

“Bastard!” With inhuman velocity Val slammed her fist into Chatty’s face. She relieved him of the knife and held it in a reverse grip: blade down, cutting edge out. A fine green spray hit the air as she slashed his throat. She dropped the knife as she took him to the ground and smashed his head into the asphalt in quick succession.

And Chatty lay silent.

My father sighed. “Good ghouls are hard to find.” He turned to one of his guards. “Take care of this.”

“Val, look out!”

She spun to a standing position as Goth #4 rushed toward her. Val faked right, then left, then swung right around him and used the truck’s bumper as a springboard. He followed her energy trail as she launched into the air, floating like a butterfly for the briefest of moments. She stung with the vehemence of an F-22 Raptor fighter plane.

The combination of punches and kicks came with the speed of light. Technique and muscular strength combined with kinetic energy blasted through her assault and Goth #4 lay on the ground, rolling and moaning.

Val came to my side. If we stood any closer we’d be one.

“You really are much stronger than I remembered.” He had the nerve to beam like a proud parent. “I knew I was right to come back.”

“You’re insane,” Val said.

“You cannot deny the Dragon Slayer.” My father turned to the sole occupant of the van. “Your turn, Jim.”

The last Goth edged out of the van and up to Val and me, looking reluctant. He hesitated as if something pushed him back. He tried again with the same negative response. Jim did a quick jog to my father and whispered something.

“That can’t be,” my father said. “She’s a mixed breed.”

My gun had taken refuge twenty feet away. The only weapons we had were Val and the knife. Val was more dangerous. She pushed me behind her, and readied her fighting stance.

My father and the Goth walked over. My father held his hand out. Val and I tensed. Like the Goth, he was driven back. He glanced at Jim, who nodded.

My father looked at me and tried again.

“Interesting …” You’d think he’d forgotten us entirely. He prodded the air in front of us, his expression intent. “Jim, claim your friends. I’ll see you soon, Natalie.”

Green, gooey discharge oozed from the wounds of the lifeless Goths as Jim piled them into the van. They drove away, slow and easy, presumably so as not to attract any attention—though from whom, I don’t know. If there were any cops around, they hadn’t bothered to put their donuts down long enough to investigate two shots fired.

“You okay?” Val scanned the area, picked up the empty shell casings and the knife.

“I think so.” I went to my cane, dropped to the ground and fished my pistol out from under some pallets.

Val opened the door for me. “We need to get out of here.”

Once under way, I clamped my hands around the worn softness of her jacket sleeve to slow the bleeding from the cut on her forearm.

Have you ever gotten zapped by a low voltage of electricity? A dose that’s just enough to make you respect the source? That’s what it felt like was zipping through my body and ending in my hands.

“You okay?” Val said.

“You just asked me that.”

Wait. We weren’t in the truck anymore—we were in my kitchen. Confusion doesn’t even come close to what I was feeling.

“I asked you half an hour ago. You passed out in the truck. Drink some water,” she said.

“I’m not used to all that exercise,” I said as I accepted the glass she handed me. “Told you it wasn’t good for me.”

I found I was thirstier than I thought, and drained the glass. She was cleaned up, so was I.

“Um, what happened?” My head hurt.

“Damned if I know,” Val said. “Your father and his friends—were those the things that attacked you in the cemetery?”

I nodded.

“When they touched me, it felt like arctic winds. Chilled me to the bone.”

“Like frozen metal on your skin,” I said.

“Yeah!”

I shook my head. “We need to get you to the hospital.”

“My arm’s fine.”

“Are you on crack? That Goth sliced your arm wide open.”

“Check this out.” She pushed her sleeve up.

I squinted as I poked at where the wound should have been. There was nothing.

“I saw you get cut.”

“And your hand.” She took my paw and turned it over. The slice was but a thin, red line. “Only difference is I don’t have a mark.”

I moved my fingers, made a fist. It felt fine.

“I have no idea what happened,” I said.

“I felt a bit woozy when you grabbed my arm, kind of drunk. It stopped quickly and I feel really good,” she said. “You stopped the bleeding.” Her brain was working at a transonic speed—the motion fragmented the remaining bits of her reality. “I saw those weirdos, saw what you did.” She took a deep breath. “You’re a Healer.”

“Now you believe me?” The book made it sound like you needed the precision of a surgeon to help someone. Maybe it’s an innate ability, because I sure as hell wasn’t studying anatomy. “Are you okay?”

“I’m kind of freaked.” Her voice was flat. “I’ve never … killed anybody … but their blood was green. What the hell are they?”

“My father called them ghouls.”

She dug through the stack of books that had taken permanent residence on my kitchen table.

“Ghouls, ghouls … hah!” She jabbed the page. “This says they rob graves and feed on corpses. Part of the nocturnal undead group.” What she’d just read sank in. “Gross!”

At least Val hadn’t killed a living creature.

“They were out in the day though,” I said.

“Maybe they’ve evolved.”

“When we stood together, they couldn’t get near us.” I’d been turning that one over for a while. “I think it’s the shield we read about.”

“Huh?”

“The Healer and Protector thing: ‘Energy is shared between them, a delicate balance that provides a guardianship for both.’”

She nodded. “I felt something close around us. It was pulsing, almost alive. Did you see anything else about it in the books?”

“Nothing. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Fine.”

But she wasn’t. She was too calm, too cool.

“You just killed some … thing. You’re not fine.”

“I took a life to protect you and me,” she said. “It was justified.”

I gave her one of my stop-bullshitting-me glares.

“Are you trying to convince me or you?”

“Both, I guess.” She started shaking.

I got up and she waved me off. I refilled my water glass and stood by the sink, giving her some space.

“We need a new plan,” Val said. “We’ll talk to the police. Give them the helpless female routine.” She batted her eyelashes. “Gosh, officer, he was so big and scary.”

If I did that, they’d think I was having a seizure.

“I didn’t think he’d bring a crew with him. I’ll talk to some of Mom’s people who do security. We’ll rethink everything. And then that bastard will spend the rest of his life in prison.”

Prison was okay. Dead was better.

Val no longer had a place in this mess. My smile was weak, but my thoughts were strong.

“You’re fired.”

She spun around in her chair to face me. “Excuse me?”

“Your services are no longer needed. I’ll forward your severance package. You’re done. You’re not built for this.”

“And you are?”

“I was bred for it.” I opened the door and moved aside. “So, thanks for your help. I hope you can get past what I’ve exposed you to. I’ll pay for the therapy.”

She didn’t protest as she got up and shuffled toward the exit. The tempo changed as she hooked the door with one foot and slammed it shut.

We were inches from each other.

“I killed something today. I need your support, not your lone wolf bullshit.”

“What do you want me to say?” I shook my head. “It’s going to be all right? That what you did was okay?”

She was silent.

“You saved both our lives. You killed to survive.”

“I should’ve been more aware of our surroundings.” She worried her lower lip. I wasn’t sure if she was going to cry or what. “Should’ve believed you …”

“You’re not omnipresent.”

“I’m your Protector, apparently—I need to be.” She went the comedy route with a deep, theatrical bow. “I now serve in close attendance of nobility.”

“Save it, samurai. Trying to joke your way through this isn’t going to help you deal with what you did. I couldn’t live with myself if something else happened to you. You have to disassociate yourself from this mess.”

“Was your plan to get tossed into a van today?”

I crossed my arms over my belly. “No.”

Her voice was soft. “We’re stronger together.”

“Do you ever get tired of being right?”

“It’s a heavy burden, but I manage.”