Breathless (11 page)

I’ve lived here for years.

I concentrate on the room. It’s tangible and not terrifying, except it sort of is. Like the street, it’s in black and white. Well, more gray scale. Truth be told, it looks a lot like the house on
Beetlejuice
when Beetlejuice got a hold of it and turned it weird-er. It’s gray, but a sharper gray and sharper angles and just weird. It’s weird.

Weird isn’t a good word for this.

It’s so much more than weird.

“It looks strange to you, doesn’t it?” When she speaks, it sounds like me, only way weirder. Like my voice has gone through one of those synthesizers the musicians use. Her voice is deeper than mine, but more musical. It’s like if an angel and a demon had a baby. I suppose that’s exactly what happened, didn’t it?

I don’t answer. I don’t know if she can hear me or see me or if she just assumes I’m here. I figure the best thing to do is just be quiet and see where this takes me. I move toward the stairs. And her eyes don’t follow me. That’s good. It means something. Not sure what, but something. Maybe it means she can sense me, but she can’t see me. Thank goodness for small, basic favors.

The steps don’t squeak when I put my foot down. It doesn’t make any sound. I just now notice that. Because I’ve sort of been focusing on all the other weirdness and strangeness and, oh yeah, death. I don’t seem to make any noise. Like any. Ever. I just sort of move around like a ghost, but I don’t feel like a ghost.

I’m cold.

Like that’s anything new. I’m always cold, or I was before I turned into the almost abomination thing. Until I drank all the demon blood.

I miss it.

The demon blood.

I know it sounds weird to say.

It should sound weird to hear.

I miss the demon blood.

I miss the feeling it gives me.

I feel like I’m a person and not a thing floating around in this gray ether. This gray
Beetlejuice
movie.

Well dang, I’ve said Beetlejuice three times… he has to come and do something now. Hell, maybe he will. He could come out for all I know. Or maybe I’m him.

I don’t feel dead. Then again, I’m not sure how I’d feel if I were dead.

My body’s not dead.

I don’t look dead.

But Sam didn’t either. When he was in Hart’s body. He was alive. So my body is alive, and I’m watching it do all kinds of things like just standing there and staring.

I feel like I should be freaking out. And I am. I think I am. I believe I am.

I’m also, I don’t know… calm somehow.

I don’t know how I’m calm.

I know that the world is ending.

I know I’m the cause of it.

But I think there’s a different feeling now that I know it’s my body, not
me
. Not really. I’m here. I’m standing, very silently, on the stairs. She’s there. The Abomination. She’s got my body, but she’s not me.

Maybe she’s part of me.

I don’t know how any of this works, but I feel slightly better knowing that it’s not me in control. Like maybe I have a chance to stop her.

Except I have no damn idea how.

I can’t even touch anything.

I’m not even entirely sure how I ended up here. I closed my eyes and, bam, here I am.

With her.

With me.

She tilts her head to the side like she’s listening for something.

“I know you’re here, Gracen. I can feel you. Funny, I can’t feel anything… but I can feel you. I guess we’re connected.”

I want to say, “Probably because you are wearing my body,” but I don’t. I’m afraid to talk because if I do, she might hear me, she might find me and then where would I be? I remember the feeling I had when I was her… me… whatever. That feeling, all that powerful, was intoxicating, and I would do anything to get it back…

No.

No…

I don’t want it back.

That’s not what I mean.

I don’t want it.

I don’t want her to have it.

I don’t crave the demon blood.

I don’t crave the power.

I don’t miss Hart.

Except I do.

I so do.

“You don’t have to talk. The stench of guilt is nearly overwhelming. I can’t believe you and I ever inhabited the same body.” She turns and heads toward the hutch, the same hutch with the little red cup lying beside it. The little red cup that I dropped when I found out Hart was giving me demon blood. I hate that cup.

I want to lick it.

Stop it!

She, the Abomination, leans down and opens the bottom drawer and rummages around in there for a bit. I don’t know what she’s looking for. We never put anything in there. Nothing really. I think I have some school books that I’ll never need again, but I don’t want to throw away, just in case. Maybe a Bible or two. Kinda ironic now.

After a few seconds, she smiles—side note: it’s freaky to see yourself smile when you aren’t looking in a mirror—and pulls out a very heavy, very golden, very sacred, very important, very bad book.

Seth’s book.

The one he used to try to open Hell.

The one Hart hid from me to try to keep me from turning into the Abomination.

The same one I’m holding right now… or she’s holding.

How did it get here?

It didn’t…

Hart.

Hart must have brought it back.

When?

Before I killed him, obviously… but why hide it there? Not like it’s the most secure place in the world.

I wonder where Hart is now that I stabbed him. Is he in Hell again? Will he be there long?

Will I ever see him again?

Or is he gone? Just gone. Never to be back again. Never to hold me or tell me that everything is going to be okay?

I never thought I loved him.

That’s not true. I always knew I did in some twisted way. I just never thought it would be the kind of love that would destroy the world.

Love is weird.

This is weird.

The Abomination opens the book, and a gust of wind fills the room, making me gasp. She hears it and smiles in my direction. “There’s my girl. Let’s go watch the show.”

She takes the book and walks toward the French doors that lead outside. She throws it down on the newly filled in graves, those demons that Hart drained for me, and snaps her fingers. The fire lights up the outside, so bright I have to cover my eyes. She laughs.

I fall to my knees as Seth’s book, the one book that can tell us anything about the Abomination and stopping her, is engulfed in flames.

Through the flames, her eyes meet mine. “Now try and stop me.”

Thunder rumbles overhead as the fire grows, embers fly off into the dark afternoon sky.

It’s the end.

There’s no way to stop her.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

Lucien

I
WANT TO HATE MY BROTHER.

I need to hate my brother.

Hating my brother would make this so much easier.

On the other hand…

I want to trust my brother.

I need to trust my brother.

Trusting my brother would make this so much easier.

He says he can destroy Gracen if we ever get the chance. If Seth finds the book. If there’s something in there that can stop her. If… if… if…

I hate the word if.

I never liked it as a human the first time. I hate it even more now.

Hart is looking up at me with those big, puppy eyes that make everything better in his world. He thinks he can get away with anything when he uses them. He thinks he can just do whatever and then say he’s sorry and whatever. “Who were you talking to before?” I can’t keep myself from asking. I don’t think it matters. He was probably talking to the wind, but I ask because I’m not ready to let him go, and I’m not ready to believe him.

“Who was I talking to?”

“Yeah, before I came in, I heard you outside. You were talking to someone. Then you weren’t. And I came in and found you nearly dead. Who was it?”

Hart clears his throat and looks away.

I don’t think he’s going to tell me.

I can wait…

Actually, I can’t because the world is ending and all.

“I told you… I can help you. I can help you stop Gracen, and you’re here asking about things that don’t matter to anybody. What’s your problem?”

“You.” I shrug. It’s only partly true. He’s been my problem for years. Not when we were little. Not even because I hate him. I don’t. I never have. It’s just… Hart is good at making mistakes and then expecting other people to clean them up for him. I don’t want to clean up his messes anymore, but damn if this isn’t the biggest mess in the history of the world.

“Me?” He smiles and shakes his head. “Brother, we have a lot more to worry about than me.”

“I don’t know. Right now, you are the only thing in this world I can seem to control.” Tired. That’s all I am right now is tired. Just… tired. I don’t even have the energy to pick my feet up as I head over to the chair next to the wall and fall against it. Hart flinches. I don’t even care why.

“Always trying to control me.”

“Never trying to control you. If you saw it that way, that’s your issue. Not mine.”

I expect some sort of smart-ass remark.

Instead, he slams his fist against the concrete wall so hard that blood splatters, turning the gray a nice shade of nasty red. “We don’t have time for this! I already told you I’d help you stop Gracen. I told you! Why are you stalling? So Seth can call again? Grow up, Lucien! He’s not helping you. He’s out for himself. And here you are, trusting him again! My God, you’re a hypocrite.”

The fire leaves him, and he slumps against the wall. Blood drips from his contorted fingers, and he doesn’t flinch.

My little brother is chained to a wall in the basement of a house I don’t know. He’s bloody and hurt. And I’ve done it to him.

My little brother that I used to play games with and laugh with.

My little brother who isn’t so little anymore.

My little brother who I promised our father I’d protect.

My little brother I jumped into Hell for.

I can’t lose him.

Not again.

I just can’t.

I’m his big brother.

I have one job, well two jobs right now. Stop the Abomination and protect my brother. That’s it. That’s. It.

I can’t tell him any of this, though. He can’t know that I’m on his side or that I want him so badly to somehow fix Gracen. He can never know because then he might, I don’t know, try to risk his life to save mine. I can’t let that happen.

I don’t know what to do.

But I can’t sit here and do this.

“Do you know where Seth’s book is?”

He rolls his eyes and looks at me like he’s going to start an argument again. No. Not this time. Not this time. “I’m asking you… as your brother. Do you know where Seth’s book is? I swear I won’t tell Seth. I won’t leave you here, but Hart, we have to work together.”

I think Hart wants to say something snarky. Maybe like “How can we work together?” or something like that. Instead, he bites his lip and his eyes glisten. “Yes. We do.”

He doesn’t say yes. I don’t have to hear yes. I take it as he took the book and moved it at some point. I’m trusting him. Dear Lord, this could go all kinds of wrong. But I do it. I trust him. I stand and pull the keys from my pocket, head over to Hart, and unlock the chains.

I don’t even hesitate.

Hart groans as he pulls his stiff arms down to his side and rubs the circulation back in his hands.

“Is your hand broken?” I reach down to help him up. It seems the least I can do.

Hart clears his throat, looking down at his hands just like me. Then…

I feel the pain in my jaw before I actually understand that it was his fist that connected with it, and I stagger back. I fall against the lamp, pulling the cord from the wall and engulfing us into darkness.

“It might be now.”

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Hart

O
UCH.

Just.

Ouch.

Punching my brother in the jaw with my already probably broken hand wasn’t the smartest thing I’ve ever done. Felt good though, so I don’t regret it.

Yes, I know where the book is.

No, I don’t want to tell him.

No, I don’t trust him.

I have to tell him, and I have to trust him, which incredibly sucks.

“Let’s go.” I walk past him, in the dark, toward the steps and hold on tight with my non-broken hand as I try not to fall and break my neck. That would do people some good, wouldn’t it? Lucien might like it better. Except they’ll never know where the book is. Bummer for them.

Bummer for the world.

Okay, I’ll try very hard not to fall. I can hear Lucien climbing up behind me. I hope his jaw hurts as much as my hand. If it doesn’t, well, that would be a shame because he deserves it for drugging me and chaining me down here.

It’s something
I’d
do.

And he’s supposed to be better than that.

Lucien is the good brother. Never broken a rule in his entirely too long life. I guess in his weird, freakish mind, what he did wasn’t anything bad. He locked up a bad guy. Did what an angel told him to do. Because he’s good like that.

Good people can kiss my ass.

When I get to the top of the stairs, I open the door and am expecting to be met with light. We had light before. Hell, the lamp downstairs works… but nope. No light. No… nothing.

“Why would you turn off all the lights? Saving Mr. and Mrs. Nobody money on their electric bill?”

I feel for the switch on the wall. I finally run my hand across it and push the switch up.

Nothing.

So I push the switch down.

Nothing.

“Uh, Lucien.” I would say this can’t be happening, but it wouldn’t be right if it wasn’t going on right now. This is our life. Our screwed up Murphy’s Law life.

“Don’t tell me the electricity is out.”

“Okay, I won’t tell you.” I knock a picture down with my shoulder as I try to move through the hallway without hitting something. It smashes on the floor. Glass everywhere. Glad I have on shoes. That would’ve been unpleasant. Course, none of this is really pleasant.

I hear “The Battle Hymn of the Republic” and stop in my tracks. That’s Lucien’s phone, and I dare say there is only one person who would be calling it.