Chaos (The Realmwalker Chronicles Book 1) (23 page)

Chapter 33

Time stops. A
myriad of thoughts rush through my mind. First is denial. This isn’t happening. This is my school. My school’s library! There’s no way evil of this magnitude can be here in such a mundane, safe place.

My next thoughts turn to my mother. My sweet, vulnerable mother is standing inches away from pure malevolence and she doesn’t even know she’s in mortal danger. No one here does. There are easily a few hundred patrons here tonight, and none of them know they share their company with a man so wicked he has attracted the patronage of a Greater Shade.

The Shade stares back at me openly, blatantly. Does it recognize me? Does it know I’m a Realmwalker? Can it sense that I see him? While all these questions hasten through my mind, one thing is certain: This is not the Greater Shade from my nightmare. I have never seen this Shade before.

What do I do? I search my mind for answers. With horror, I realize all my training, all my preparation for a time such as this has fled. My mind is a complete, stunned blank. Panic has taken hold of me. I grasp for something, ANYTHING, and come up empty.

With great effort, I pull my eyes away from the monster. I mustn’t draw its curiosity on the chance it doesn’t know who I am. Instead, I give my full attention to the man who addressed me. He gazes at me expectantly, eyebrows raised, waiting for an answer. In an instant, I take in every detail about him.

He’s handsome—shockingly so. He’s wearing dark jeans and a navy plaid button-up shirt. I’d wager he’s somewhere in his mid-forties. He’s a few inches taller than me and has an average build with rich brown hair and dark eyes. Everything about him is appealing—except that from him radiates such an overwhelming sense of abomination that I am physically sickened.

I must say something, but my throat’s gone dry. I swallow a few times, trying to find my voice.

“Yes. This is my display,” I manage to croak. I force a smile.

His head tilts to the side slightly as he returns an equally fake smile. I must have messed up. Perhaps I hesitated a fraction of a second too long in responding because something passes behind his eyes. For the briefest of moments, his façade cracks, and the beast within the man stares back at me. In that second, I can see in his eyes that
HE KNOWS
.

He knows, even if only instinctually, that
I
know. He knows I see the evil inside him. And just as quickly, the look is gone.

The man extends a hand. “Matthew Crowe,” he says through a grin.

I can’t hesitate again. I have to try to convince him he’s wrong—that I don’t suspect him of anything other than admiring my art. I reach out and shake his hand enthusiastically.

“It’s nice to meet you Mr. Crowe,” I say warmly, inwardly choking down my revulsion at the touch of his skin.

“You’re a very talented young lady.” He releases his grip on my hand.

“Thank you, that’s very kind.” As he turns to face my display, I scramble for a way to get my mother as far away from this man as possible.

“Mom,” I turn to her and speak quietly. “Heather Eldridge’s work is over there.” As I point across the library toward my friend’s display, I notice Mr. Crowe watching us from the corner of his eye as he pretends to examine a charcoal piece. The Greater Shade, while no longer gazing in my direction, still hovers close behind him, standing out like a cancerous smear on reality for only me to see.

“You should go say hi,” I say shakily. “I know she’d love to see you.”

“I haven’t seen Heather in ages!” She glances in that direction, trying to see over the heads of passersby.

“In fact, why don’t you take a trip around the library and check out everyone else’s work too.”

“That’s a good idea, Addy.” She kisses me on the cheek before she leaves.

I look back at Mr. Crowe, who’s made it to the other end of my display wall, and wonder what kind of man must he be to attract a Greater Shade? What kind of evil? Is he smart? Calculating? Or is he an animal fed by blind rage and desire? Are there bodies in his basement? Unmarked graves in his backyard?

Aware of my scrutiny, he looks toward me. Again I catch a brief glimpse of the monster behind his eyes. How can no one else see what I see? Even without the proof of the Greater Shade, surely these people can sense how WRONG this man is. Weeks ago, before I myself knew of the existence of Shades, would I have been able to sense it?

Mr. Matthew Crowe approaches and again stops too close to me. “I find your work very pleasing,” he says quietly. His voice is heavy silk, rich and warm, and I’m convinced he uses it as a weapon, perhaps to trick victims into trusting him.

“Would you consider a commissioned piece? I have more than a few blank walls in my home that are aching for this level of workmanship.” He fishes in his back pocket before drawing out a business card and pen.

I hold my breath as he leans even closer and says conspiratorially, “Perhaps I could get a number or address from you, some way I could get a hold of you to work out the details.”

I force a laugh. “Oh, I would love to, of course. It’s just, you see I’m leaving town soon … to go to school …” I stutter, “so, I’m afraid I wouldn’t have the time.”

“Hmmm,” he
tsk
s and shakes his head. “That’s too bad.” He steps back and makes a show of fully looking me over. “I guess it’s my loss.”

“I’m very sorry,” I say as he offers his hand again.

His eyes are a little too knowing and his grip on my hand a little too firm as he says, “I understand. You have a nice night, miss.” He turns and walks toward the exit, not bothering to stop at any other exhibits on his way. And like that he’s gone, out of the library and into the night, with the towering demon trailing in his wake.

Chapter 34

I need help.
I can’t handle this on my own. I reach for my Walker phone and realize with dread that I left it sitting on the passenger seat of my truck. How could I be so careless? I consider running out to the parking lot to get it, but I’m afraid of leaving my mother unprotected.

I find her and stay by her side the rest of the evening, never allowing her to stray more than a couple feet. As the night winds down and fewer people remain, I grow more anxious about leaving and what’s waiting for me once I do.

“I’ll walk you to your car, Mom,” I say when it’s time to go. I put her arm through mine and hold her close as we head out into the darkened parking lot. Only a couple dozen cars remain, sprinkled in small groups here and there. As we walk, she chats about what great talent our community has, and I try my best to act like I’m listening as my eyes dart around us.

Fear has pushed my imagination into overdrive. Every noise is a monster approaching. Every shadow holds a pair of gleaming eyes. I wait for Mr. Crowe to rush at us from behind a bush or from around a parked vehicle. As we approach my mom’s car, I purposely drop my keys. As I quickly swoop down to pick them up, I glance under her car to make sure no one waits there.

Please let me get my mom out of here. Please.
As she unlocks her car, I glance at her back seat. It’s empty.

“I’ll see you at home,” she says cheerfully as she climbs in and starts her car.

As she backs up and pulls away, I’m filled with relief. It’s short lived, however, as I realize my truck is at the other end of the parking lot and I’m now completely alone. I look around me, desperately searching for a group of parents or students. There’s no one.

An image of my phone resting on the seat of my truck flashes through my mind. If I can only make it to that phone. If I can just get to my truck, I can lock the doors and call for help.

I run. I keep my head up, constantly looking around me in all directions. I avoid shadows and clusters of cars where one could easily hide in ambush. I can see my truck now and swear silently because I didn’t park underneath a light. Worse yet, a large, dark SUV is parked next to my driver’s side. When I’m fifteen yards away, I stop, unsure what to do.

Should I wait for people to show up? Should I make a dash for the truck? I peer intently into the shadows around the two vehicles. Could Matthew Crowe be there, crouched in hiding? Try as I may, I can’t make out any shapes through the thick blackness.

I hold as still as I can and listen. Holding my breath, I strain to hear any sound that might give someone away. A creak of metal from a car. The soft thud of a shoe on the pavement. I hear nothing.

If attacked, I’ll have to defend myself, so I try to remember what I’ve been taught. I’ve been trained to kill Shades. Demons. I’ve expected it, even anticipated it. But a person? Could I do that? Could I bring myself to actually KILL another human being?

The longer I stand indecisive and exposed, the more the dread grows. The longer I wait the more certain I am that I’m in danger.

I can’t stand still any longer. Panic forces me to move. Pulse pounding, palms sweating, I take a step toward my truck. And then another. Once close enough, I peer through the windows of the SUV, expecting to see a shadowed silhouette sitting inside, waiting. It looks empty. When I’m five feet away from the bed of my truck, I bend and look under the vehicles. I can’t see much, but I don’t think anyone’s there.

I grip my keys tightly, regretting now that I drive such an old vehicle, one without automatic locks. Getting the right key ready, I make up my mind to move. I look around one last time for any help, and, finding no one, I rush forward.

I make it to my door. I try desperately to find the key hole in the enveloping shadows. In my blind panic my senses have dulled. This is taking too long. All I can hear is my breath and my heart pounding and the frantic jingling of keys.

COME ON! Where are you?!

Finally I find it. I slide my key in and turn. The old, heavy door creaks loudly as I pull it open. I can see the phone on the passenger seat. I climb inside and, reaching for the phone, pull the door closed behind me.

Made it!

Only the door doesn’t close. At the last second, it stops. I pull harder, choking down a sob of terror, not wanting to turn around and see what’s stopped it.

No! I’m so close!

The phone’s in my hand. I push the home screen button and it lights up as the door is yanked open and out of my grasp.

And then I hear it—a distinctly metallic
click-click
. A sound I’ve heard before.

“Give me the phone,” the silk voice says.

When I turn around, I’m looking into the barrel of a large, black handgun.

Chapter 35

Cold dark eyes
stare back at me from behind the raised gun.

“I said,” he repeats in a quiet but deadly voice, “give me the phone.”

Numbly, I pass the phone to him. He slips it into his pocket.

“Get out.” He reaches behind him and opens the back passenger door of the SUV.

I know my reflexes are fast. I try and gauge the distance to the gun and whether or not I can reach it before he squeezes the trigger.

“Don’t try it.” I look into his eyes. “I will shoot you. I will shoot you right …” he presses the gun hard into the center of my forehead, “here.” He licks his lips eagerly as a dreamy smile spreads across his face. “I have no qualms with that.”

He means it. I have no choice for now but to do what he says. I slide down off the seat, which puts me very close to him. I can smell his acrid breath.

Now that I’m out of my truck, I see the Greater Shade hovering in its usual place behind Crowe. It seems to be pulsating with eager anticipation for the horrors undoubtedly planned for me. Grabbing my left arm above my elbow, Crowe guides me into the SUV. He’s surprisingly gentle. This isn’t comforting; rather, it leads me to imagine he’s done this many times before and is sure of himself and his methods.

“Atta girl,” he whispers.

My father’s voice echoes in my mind—advice he gave me years before.
If someone ever tries to harm you, Addy, tries to take you, never leave with them. Even if threatened, you fight back. The chances of someone surviving an attack dramatically decrease after they’re taken to a second location.

I hear the truth in my father’s words. If I leave this parking lot tonight, with this man, I will be killed, so I decide that if I’m going to die, I might as well die here, fighting. As Crowe leans across me to buckle me into my chair, he takes his eyes off me for a fraction of a second.

NOW
.

Before I can move, however, something flashes and catches my eye. Behind Crowe, in the shadows surrounding the Greater Shade, a glint, a gleam of silver appears and disappears. I stare into the darkness trying to identify what I just saw. I look at the Shade. Its face is frozen, its maw opened in a noiseless scream as its head slowly slides from its shoulders and thumps to the ground.

Crowe, though unaware of even the existence of his nefarious partner, must sense the beast’s demise in some instinctual way because he whips his head around to look behind him—and I strike.

Sweeping my left forearm out, I knock the gun from Crowe’s hand while simultaneously shifting my body to the right. I put all my strength behind the kick I deliver to the center of his chest. The force of it sends him back into the side of my truck bed, striking hard enough to leave a dent.

Eyes wide in disbelief, Crowe slides down the side of my truck and lands in a puddle of thick, oily Shade blood that has seeped from the headless corpse next to him. Wheezing, he rolls onto his side and attempts to get back up.

Two curved, silver blades reach from the darkness and strike with viper-like speed. Again and again they work their deadly craft on Crowe. I witness the bloody scene in a state of shock, watching but not really seeing. When the deed is done, the Shade and the mad man lie in a messy heap on the ground.

Mikhail stands and wipes his blades on his pant legs. Sheathing his weapons into place on his back, he turns to me and speaks quickly.

“Adelaide, we must go.” He reaches out a hand.

I stare at the blood on his extended arm—dark red mixed with black oil.

“Quickly!” he snaps urgently.

I grab his hand and he yanks me from the SUV, wraps his arms around me tightly, and together we fall backwards and into darkness.