Undertow (21 page)

I tried to sort the odds of them turning into a pile of dust. They should be okay. The house was MINE. I invited them in and the door was clear. “Okay. Fine,” I finally replied.

They stepped forward but I second-guessed myself again, “No, wait!”

“Oh, come on,” said Ana, dramatically. “This is like Red Light Green Light during 2
nd
grade recess.”

“No, wait. I have an idea. Give me your hand Raef,” I said, reaching through the doorway, my hand extended to him.  He looked at me and I
gestured with my hand for him to take it. I spoke loudly, with a clear, probably ridiculous, voice, “Raef O’Reilly – crap, I mean
Paris
-  I invite you into my home.”

Raef took my hand, instantly causing a riot of sensation to engulf my arm, and I pulled him quickly through the door to me.  I looked up to his flawless face smiling down at me, free of burning embers, and relief washed over me. I remained clutched to him for another moment, lost in his closeness until Kian loudly cleared his throat. I released Raef, who gave my arm one last squeeze.

I reached once again through the doorway and Kian took my hand. His index finger gently stroked the underside of my wrist and I gave him a squinty-eyed look. He simply grinned.

I took a deep, slightly disgusted breath, “Kian O’Reilly. I invite you into this home.” Unlike Raef however, Kian did not need to be pulled through the door. Instead he strode through the threshold in one giant step and squashed himself firmly against me, my hand still in his.  Taller than Raef, I had to crane my neck upwards to look at Kian’s wide smile.

“Thanks Eila,” he purred sarcastically. I shoved him back.

“I figured after 160 years your hormones would have dulled,” I whispered to Kian.

“Thankfully, no,” he said with a wink. 

I gave him an irritated look and he backed away.

I composed my thoughts and looked over my four unlikely allies.  “So, um, welcome to the Walker house,” I said, trying to act like a hostess who was not running from a death squad.

The four slowly looked around the great foyer with its grand, central staircase. Kian walked forward toward the curve of the staircase and reached out, caressing the ornate handrail. He looked back toward Raef, who seemed lost in thought.

“Looks the same doesn’t it?” asked Kian.

“Very. I can’t believe it’s so well preserved,” replied Raef, slowly walking into the right parlor. I was thoroughly confused, but then remembered what Raef had said under the tree.

“Wait a minute. You two
have
been in here before. So, what the heck was the dog and pony show over at the door?” I asked, baffled.

Kian looked over at Raef, who had wandered further into the parlor. “We entered as humans, never as Mortis,” said Kian, still looking around.  “There was a time when I was part of the mortal, but privileged, society.  Elizabeth held grand parties here,” said Kian, still looking about the foyer. “This home holds detailed memories for me.”

“Me too,” said Raef, reappearing. He took in the expanse of the staircase. “I wasn’t part of Kian’s upper echelon, though.”

“That’s for damn sure,” replied Kian with a snort.

Raef just shook his head. “I remember crafting so much of this house and the furniture, including this staircase and your bed,” said Raef, stroking the lush, smooth curve of the arm rail as if it were velvet. Now I understood why he knew I had a four-post bed. He made it.

His index finger traced the swirl at the top of the finial. “Of course back then I had no clue what she was or anything about
whom she fought,” he said dropping his hand from the woodwork.

I watched both him and Kian, and realized that these two b
oys had basically been a part of my life, my history, for a century and a half. They had walked with, talked with, Elizabeth.  And now, more than a century later, they were with me, her descendant, in an attempt to save my life. The knowledge was humbling.

MJ, for once, looked more serious than usual, “You know, call me crazy, but I think it would be wise to find out who bought this home and signed it over to Eila.”

I felt suddenly uneasy in my own home, having now let two legendary enemies of my previously unknown family tree inside. And while my heart said they were here to protect me, my head was having conflicting thoughts once again. Thanks to MJ, I now worried that my house wasn’t really a gift after all.

“MJ’s right,” said Raef. “We need to find out how this person knew about Eila in the first place. And why they would be so generous as to give the house back.”

“I agree,” said Kian. “What made you come and take the house anyway? I mean, some random stranger buys a home and signs it back to you and you just take it on faith?”

“Kian. Don’t . . .” said Raef, but Kian continued on, “Because I mean, really Eila, had you
not
come back we . . . ,” he whipped his finger around the room to the others, “ . . .would not be here, sticking our necks out. Had you not come back, our lives would have stayed sane.”

The brimming anger and frustration in Kian’s voice made my throat tighten. I felt responsible, but resentful as well.  It wasn’t just their lives. I was the center of the vortex.

The one marked to die.             

“Look,” I said, my voice sharper than I intended, “I took the deal because it seemed legit, and it is. I took the deal because I had nothing. NOTHING in Kansas and Mae was working herself into the ground to keep a roof over our heads and food on the table. And most of all, I took the deal because I had no clue that craziness like this,” I mimicked his finger twirling about the room, though slightly more manic, “was waiting here!  Do you really think, for one ludicrous moment, that I would ever, ever come back to this home if I knew what I know now? Do you? I WANT MY LIFE BACK!”

I was livid, and now only mere inches from Kian’s face. The rest of the audience remained frozen for a few seconds, no doubt floored at my outburst.

“Oooo kaaay,” said MJ, stepping up to our face-off. “Let’s just take a breather and not point fingers, shall we? However we got here, whatever our past, doesn’t matter. What matters is what we do with our situation now. Together, we will hopefully remain in one piece, but fractured, we’re probably dead. Personally, I always liked the Three Musketeers. ‘All for one and one for . . .’,”

I put my hand quickly over his mouth to halt his monologue, while looking at Kian. I was still angry that I was being blamed. I knew MJ was right, no matter how much Kian and I would clash. I drew a long, cleansing breath. “Let’s just get this over with,” I muttered, trying to release the rage.

Raef nodded. “I agree that we need to learn who bought back the home for Eila,” he glanced between Kian and me.

I could feel MJ’s warm breath on my hand and I dropped it from his mouth. He let out a quiet ‘all’ to finish his enthusiastic chant. 

“But right now, daylight’s on our side and the clan will not risk coming out when they can be easily seen. Our kind hunts best in the darkness. I say we find the diary and anything else we can from Elizabeth,” he looked directly at Kian. “Preferably before someone decides to make another try for Eila.”

The gravity of our situation created a void of sound within our company. 

“Right,” said MJ, breaking that silence. “And since this place is, like, twelve million square feet, we should be done when we are in our 90’s. I hear retirement is highly overrated anyway.”

Raef looked at MJ. “We need to condense your timeline.”

Kian walked over to Raef. “One of us should head to the Registry of Deeds. See what paperwork we can find on the house,” he glanced at me, then Raef. “I can go.”

Raef shook his head, “You aren’t exactly the studious kind, nor the most polite of men when you are frustrated.  Digging through mountains of legal papers at the dusty Registry is not going to bring out your best side.” Raef looked to me, “I’ll go, if it’s okay with you. I’ll make sure to be back well before dark. Kian and MJ will keep you and Ana safe.”

“I can take care of myself!” yelled Ana snappily from the other room.

Kian lowered his voice, “I’ll keep them safe.”

“WE’LL keep them safe,” correct MJ.

“Whatever, Fido,” replied Kian.

Just then, something occurred to me. “I thought that this home is safe from the Mortis, ergo, safe from the clan.  What is the daytime rush?” I asked, uneasy.

“Mortis who regularly steal from humans are able to blend into the darkness. They pull the shadows over their skin, like a cloak,” said Kian “It makes them near impossible to see after sunset, though MJ can usually sense them in his other form. Nighttime becomes their best shot at succeeding.”

What a sucktastic development. It was entirely possible that I would never sleep again. Flashlights. I needed lots and lots of flashlights.

Raef reached out and touched my hand, “With the clan, we assume nothing. The sun is just a way to, ‘strengthen the safety net,’ shall we say?”

“This is my house, though. I live here,” I argued, confused. “Are you telling me that I can no longer stay here? I thought this house, of all houses, is supposed to be Fort Knox.”

Raef gave my hand a squeeze, “It probably
is
Fort Knox, but until we know for sure, you only can be here in the daytime. For your safety, you cannot be alone in the night.” 

I couldn’t help but tense at the idea that a killer could hide in any shadow, possibly in my house. Maybe in my closet or under the bed. I needed to turn my imagination off before I flipped out. “When will we know for sure the house is safe?”  My voice seemed to drown in the space around the hallway.

“When one tries to get in,” said Raef.

Kian gave a clipped laugh. “Yeah, and then we quickly rip their head off,” he said with his megawatt smile.

“If they are bold enough to walk through that door,” said Raef stepping closer to me as he pointed to the entrance that he just came through, “they should be ready for a speedy demise.”

MJ came over to me. “Eila, they won’t get in without you inviting them in. That’s an unbreakable supernatural law, right?” he asked looking over at Kian and Raef. 

Raef nodded. Kian just stood there.

“I said,
RIGHT?”

“Most likely,” said Kian, finally answering MJ.

“MJ’s right. They need to be invited in. You’ll be okay here,” said Raef.  I was having trouble reading whether or not he was concerned about leaving me at the present time, but he seemed okay. It gave me more confidence to be without him.

“I have got to go so I can get back by sundown,” said Raef. “You’ll be safe here until then, and when I get back, we can decide what to do about sleeping arrangements. I promise.”

“Sleeping. Right. Like that will happen for me.” What an absurd idea.

“You’ll be alright,” said Raef, placing his hand on my shoulder and looking into my eyes. “We’ll find the diary and learn how to activate your power, and then no soul-thief will be crazy enough to make an attempt on your life.”

“Except for the clan,” added Kian. Raef shot him a dark look.

I wanted him to stay, to be my protective shadow all day long, every day, for the rest of my life, but I knew he only trusted himself with the task of finding the buyer. I told myself I was safe in my home, among my talented friends.  I nodded and he rubbed my shoulders one last time.

He leaned in towards me slightly and spoke softer, “I will be back before the sun sets. I promise.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. We get it. Time’s ticking,” said Kian, tossing his head toward the door, “We’ll see you soon.”

Raef released me and headed out, looking back to me as he closed the door behind him. 

“Finally. Now we can get this party started!” said Kian, rubbing his hands. I gave him my best “
give me a break”
look.

“Such party-killers,” sighed Kian. “I’m heading upstairs to start looking.”  In a burst of speed, he disappeared up the main staircase and out of sight. His sudden shot of speed made me nearly jump out of my skin.

I looked at Ana, my hand on my now racing heart, “Damn, he’s fast!”

“All of them are. He’s nothing special,” said Ana, shortly. She was completely unshaken by Kian’s sonic-like speed. 

“I heard that,” shouted Kian from the 3
rd
floor.  My mouth dropped open slightly. I mouthed the words, “
He can HEAR me?!”

She picked at a peeling piece of plaster on the wall, looking a bit annoyed. “You know, if you are going to be this jumpy about everyday stuff, you will never be able to handle this lifestyle.”

“Be nice, Ana,” reprimanded MJ. “This is all new to her. Some of it is new to me too, Eila. You’ll get used to it.”

“Thanks MJ.” I smiled at him. He was trying to be kind but Ana seemed on edge. I couldn’t really blame her though. I turned and headed into the library as MJ followed me. Ana, on the other hand, walked down the hall to the back parlor and out of sight.

She was mumbling something about a needle in a haystack.

15

“She can be so . . . prickly
,
at times,
”
I said, now standing in front of the monstrous floor-to-ceiling bookcases stuffed with leather-bound books.

“I know, but it’s not really her,” replied MJ, trying to defend Ana. “Last year she even looked different – long hair, a touch of
lip-gloss. She is very different now.”

In some ways I knew this was the truth. That somewhere under all the anger, and probably pain, was a different, though no less bold, Ana.

While I was certain that the loss of her father was a tremendous blow to her, I didn’t think it was the trigger for her current personality disorder. Her dysphoria, I was fairly certain, had something to do with Kian. I was dying to find out what went on between them because Ana KNEW him, but I managed to control my urge to blurt out a million demanding questions.

I looked over at MJ who was systematically pulling out books and flipping through them, looking for the diary.  He glanced at me, as he placed yet another book in the reject pile. “How many books do you think are in here?” he asked.

“Honestly, I don’t want to know,” I laughed.  I started pulling books from the other end of the wall, sitting cross-legged on the floor in front of the lowest shelf. Book after book was typewritten and nothing like a diary.

Novels, battles, history books, geography.  A few were even art books. It took us nearly an hour to get through just the first shelf during which I got a most fascinating, though abridged, history of MJ’s Chinese ancestors. I still was having a hard time even believing he could change.

“Thus far, I have only learned how to shift into the Black Shuck that you’ve come to know,” said MJ. “I chose that because I was a big fan of Sherlock Holmes novels and the Hound of the Baskervilles. I guess I thought it was appropriate for taking on the Mortis, as a shuck is supposed to be a supernatural creature. Plus, people wouldn’t be shocked to see a dog named ‘Marsh’ walking around town.  It’s short for my full name, Marshall James. If I chose something with more, uh,
flair
I guess, I would have stood out like a whale on the beach.”

“So you’re saying you could turn into other animals? Potentially?” I asked, my attention rapt. MJ’s ability was too damn cool.

“Potentially is a loaded word there. Turning into a variety of animals, rather than just maintaining one, takes an enormous amount of focus and training. I just don’t have what it takes,” replied MJ, humbly. 

“My Chinese ancestors on my mom’s side were known for being able to shift seamlessly between multiple creatures at once. Almost like a domino effect of changes, one right on top of another. To be able to do that, without pausing to come back to your baseline human form, just blows my mind. I have a tough enough time trying to stay focused long enough to pull off one change into just a dog. Those Therians were legends. They were freakin’ gods,” he said, awed. “But me? I’m just an oversized dog with a fast reaction time when it comes to the soulless.”

He grabbed yet another book from the shelf, flipped through it quickly and tossed it aside. The pile behind us was growing exponentially and yet, no diary.  Thank you Elizabeth for making this so darn easy.

I set another book aside and looked at MJ
.
“Okay, first of all, YOU have an incredible, mind-twisting skill. And I fully believe there is a shape-shifting god in you somewhere,” I said, confident in my assessment.

I tossed aside another book on some small, stick-legged bird called a Piping Plover. I could have sworn I saw a bumper sticker about those birds tasting like chicken. Cape people are so strange.

“I really appreciate your confidence in me, but it’s unwarranted. I’m not a superhero.”

“Well, last time I checked, I was the figurehead of this train wreck and if I say you are a supe
rhero, you are. Heck you’re, um. . .” I stopped to think of an appropriate comparison. “You’re Underdog!”

“Underdog?” said MJ, mock horror on his face. “That stupid, poorly animated beagle from TV? Are you kidding me? I mean, at least make me cool, like uh, Rin Tin Tin.”

“How about Wolverine? The X-Men dude with the claw things?” I asked, smiling.

He snapped his fingers, enthused, “Yes! Yes, much better! I am Wolverine, just, you know, without the claw-things and, well, bad hair cut. I wasn’t a big fan of those yellow and blue suits either. They looked pretty dorky.”

I stared at him, a smile crossing my face. MJ was trying to control his face, but a smile was climbing up the corners of his mouth. “Underdog then?”

“Yup” said MJ, sigh
ing dramatically.

“Look. I’ll make a deal with you,” I said, but MJ moaned. “You work on turning into another creature, something fancier than a naked mole rat, and I’ll work on figuring out how to become a human glow stick. Deal?”

MJ started to laugh. “Well, when you pitch it that way, how can anyone refuse?” he asked, still laughing.

I started laughing as well. The complete absurdity of our situation combined with the stress level at code red combined to short circuit our brains. We laughed a
nd laughed till tears filled our eyes. It felt good, a release of tension and an ability to just forget the situation we were in, if only briefly. When I asked him to show me how he changes, he flatly refused, explaining that he had to be stark naked to transform. I burst out laughing again and he gave me a good-natured shove.

When we finally regained our senses and I had wiped the tears from my face, I felt renewed, and I think MJ did too. We continued our mission with the books and worked once again in silence, an occasional chuckle escaping us.

Another half hour had passed without any luck and the sun had yet to stop its march across the sky. I couldn’t help glancing at the shadows as they slowly slipped up the walls in the library. I heard a creak of the wood floor behind us and turned around. Ana was standing in the doorway, hands in her pockets.

“Any luck?” she asked.

“No. Not yet,” I replied. “You?”

“Nope. I’m going to go find Kian and see if that slacker has come across anything,” she said, shifting her weight.

“K. Sounds good,” I said, glancing at MJ who seemed to be pulling books a bit rougher. He didn’t turn to look at Ana. I couldn’t quite read his mood. I thought he might be getting overwhelmed at the monotony of our new sport known as book hurling. “Is that fine with you, MJ, or do we need extra help here?” I asked.

“Whatever,” he replied, curtly.

Ana set her mouth in a tight line and disappeared out of the doorway. I could hear her footsteps taking the stairs two at a time up to the second floor.

For a while we worked in silence, until the nagging question I wanted to ask MJ from before could not be contained anymore.  I cleared my throat. “Uh, any luck?” I asked, trying to warm up the conversation again after another near half-hour of silence.

“Nah, but this one . . .” MJ twisted to a pile behind him grabbing a faded black, leather book with deep etching carved into the cover, “ . . . at least has some cool, old photos.”

“Really? Can I see?”

“Here,” he said, sliding the dense book towards me. I looked at the intricate pattern on the cover. The exact center had an oval indentation with more scrollwork around it. I suspected that some ornament had once fit there but had long since fallen out.

I gently opened the weathered binding and looked at the black and white photos on the first page, some of which looked older than the house. I flipped through the first few pages, then jumped ahead in the book, but it seemed that the album was unfinished.

I glanced over at MJ who was still pulling books from the bottom shelf, now seated like I was on the floor. “So, um, what is the deal between Kian and Ana?” I asked, amazed I had the nerve to bring it up.

MJ paused briefly. “That’s not for me to share,” he said, and continued pulling books.

“But she knew him, right? Before I arrived, she knew him?”

MJ put down a book and looked at me, “Yeah, she knew him before this whole thing.”

“Were they in a relationship?” I asked, reflecting on the fact that her anger with Kian seemed more like bitterness. As if she was half of a couple whose relationship went south.

“I can’t talk about this with you,” said MJ, going back to his books.

I closed the photo album and put it aside, intending to take the time to truly enjoy it later. Perhaps when I wasn’t being hunted. I reached for the next black, leather-bound book on the bottom shelf. The miles of books between MJ and I on the first shelf had condensed down to only a handful left, though hundreds remained on the rows above.

He slid sideways toward me to reach the next few books in line. We were almost close enough to reach out and touch. I heard him sigh and I looked over at him. Something was bugging him.

He finally spoke up, “Look, I can’t talk about what did or did not happen between the two of them, but I know you like Raef. We all know.” My faced started to flush and I looked away toward the books. “But, Eila, you should not – cannot – have a relationship with him. It’s not safe.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about. He is just a friend,” I said, not looking at MJ. I was always a lousy liar.

“Uh huh,” he replied, not buying my tale for one second. “Look, he’s not human. He’s not one of us. He looks like one of us, but he isn’t.”

I was slightly taken aback and defensive of the boy I had fallen for, “That’s the reason?  Because Raef is not a human?  Talk about not looking in the mirror!  Last I checked, you turn into some mythical canine, I supposedly can light up like a nuclear warhead, and Ana has some weird ability to convince people to do things.  Last time I checked, none of us were completely human.”

“No, we are not, but he is truly
in
human. He and Kian are faster, stronger. I mean, they barely keep their moral centers functioning. Their true calling is to steal the life-force of people.  Their normal state of existence is one of selfish, murderous desires.  To start a relationship with one risks the possibility of their biological-selves returning. He could hurt you. He could kill you.”

“I know all that,” I said, angry. Possibly at myself for knowing everything he was saying was true, but unable to turn off my desire to be near Raef.

It was then that I realized what had occurred between Kian and Ana. “Kian hurt Ana. That’s it isn’t it?  They were a couple and something happened and he hurt her, didn’t he?”

MJ got to his feet and looked down at me, his jaw squared, “We’re done talking about this. Ana will kick my ass if she knew I even mentioned her past with Kian.”  He started to walk out of the library.

“Wait! What about the diary? Look at all these books,” I asked, nearly pleading, as I had no desire to go through them alone.

“It occurred to me that Elizabeth would not have been crazy enough to leave her diary in a reading library for everyone to peruse,” he replied. 

I felt mildly stupid. “Uh, good point.”

I was about to leave the room, but remembered the photo book. I thought Mae would like to see it as well when she returned home, so I picked it up and took it into the kitchen with me, following MJ.

Mae. What on earth was I going to tell her? Or was I not going to say anything?  And if I kept her in the dark, would it threaten her life? My chest started to tighten, panic rising. I placed the book on the table, staring at it, lost in thought.

MJ headed over to the fridge but saw my furrowed brow. “What?” he asked, looking at me.

“I’m just . . . I mean, what do I say to Mae? And for that matter, what will you tell your parents?”

  MJ opened the refrigerator and pulled out a bottle of water. “Ah. Good question,” he nodded. “You want one?” he asked, holding the water up slightly.

“No thanks. I’m going to get some tea going.” I walked around the table and pulled the kettle from the back burner.

I took it to the sink and started filling it, glancing at the witch ball that Dalca had given Mae as a housewarming gift. It glowed softly as the sun filtered through it. I checked the clock on the microwave as I finished filling the kettle. It blinked “4:36” repeatedly. I was hoping Raef would be back very soon.

I turned off the tap and carried the full kettle to the stovetop and clicked on the gas flame. I looked over at MJ, who was now standing by the book on the table and running his finger along the leather cover.

“My parents know of our family history and tales of our ancestors who could change into other creatures.  But for many decades my family has just chalked it up to myth and poor translation over the years of native stories,” said MJ, still tracing the elaborate cover.

I looked at him, gesturing for an answer.

He shook his head, “Nope. Haven’t told them. Hoping I won’t have to and that we can curb this thing before we need to tell them, Mae included. I’ve been pitching them some BS about having a huge project that is part of a study group, so they have been letting me slide at the shop.”

“What if we can’t ‘curb’ this thing?”

“Then not telling them is to turn a blind eye to their safety. On the other hand we may never get a chance to tell them and, if this thing goes badly, the Clan may have no desire to pursue them. I mean technically, they are only gunning for you. Ana and I would just be, well, you know.”