“Keely?” Nick rushes to her. Slides to the floor beside her like he’s sliding home. The last thought she has before she passes out is, Safe.
Nine:
Bryon trails behind Nick trying to focus on keeping a look out for anyone who may notice a bloodied girl being carried through the hallway. This is much harder than it sounds, because the girl just happens to be Keely. They are doing a terrible job of keeping her safe. It occurs to him, and not for the first time, that perhaps they should call in reinforcements. Or replacements. They are just too inexperienced. He says as much to Lila and Dustin as they all meet at Nick’s car.
“We can discuss this later, Bryon. Right now, we need to get Keely checked out,” Dustin chides him.
Mr. Giordano jogs over to them carrying a first aid kit. Kneels inside the car and assesses Keely’s injuries with knowing hands. After several agonizing minutes, he concludes she probably has a concussion and multiple superficial wounds. He cleans the swollen gash under her hair and begins questioning them.
“What happened?”
“Apophis,” Nick and Bryon say in unison.
“How did you know?” Nick asks Bryon.
“She text me. That’s why I came down to the bathrooms.”
Nick reaches past Mr. Giordano. Fishes through Keely’s pockets and comes back with her cell phone.
“Nick, you can’t do that. You can’t invade her privacy like that,” Lila says disapprovingly.
“You think I’m lying?” Bryon says. Suspicion colors his tone.
Nick pauses. Eyes meet Bryon’s. “Why would I think that? I’m just checking her phone to see if there are any other texts we should know about.” He turns to Lila. “And privacy went out the window a long time ago, don’t you think? Like maybe about the same time we started following her.” He opens her text messages and curses. Checks her call log. Looks at the time of the last call. “She got a text from her mom saying to call when she was alone. And she called. Apparently it was Apophis. I can’t believe she didn’t tell us. How could she be so stupid?” Nick throws the phone onto the front seat.
“It’s her mom, Nick. People trust their moms,” Lila murmurs.
“It was stupid. I was right there. She could have told me.”
“Well, maybe she wanted that privacy I was talking about.”
“Maybe we should discuss this later. Shouldn’t she be in bed or something?” Dustin wonders.
“Take her home. Let her sleep, it will help her heal, but wake her every couple hours. Just long enough to make sure she can wake up,” Mr. Giordano instructs.
It’s decided school is no longer safe for Keely. Bryon knows she will hate this. Not so much the missing school part, but it being decided for her while she’s unconscious.
He drives her car, following behind Nick. Dustin and Lila are behind him in Dustin’s Gremlin that Bryon thinks is the exact same color as lime Jell-O.
He carries Keely’s bag inside as Nick carries her. Lila pulls the futon out, making it into a bed for Keely. Nick lifts her head gently, placing a pillow beneath. Bryon thinks she looks too pale. Her lips are the dark red of dried blood. Her shirt is torn revealing the black lace of her bra strap. He wants to fix it so it doesn’t show. Afraid to touch her, he pulls the blanket up to her chin.
“What do we do now?” he asks, addressing no one in particular.
“We wait and wake her up in a couple of hours like Mr. Gi—Joe said,” Nick answers.
“No, that’s not what I mean. We need help. This is too big for us. This is the second time in two days she’s been attacked.”
“The second time you guys saved her. Isn’t that our job?” Dustin says.
“Protection is our job. Bryon’s right. We should have prevented this from happening in the first place, then she wouldn’t need saving. We messed up.”
“She’s alive. We didn’t mess up that bad,” Dustin counters.
“Bad enough. She shouldn’t be lying here unconscious. We need help,” Bryon repeats.
Dustin puts his hands up, surrendering. Lila paces in front of him. “Call Dad, Icky. He’ll know what to do. Maybe they can just send somebody with a little more experience.”
Nick is defeated. He failed his first assignment in the worst way. He stares at Keely. Why were there so many attempts in the last two days for her? That could be explained by her rapidly approaching birthday. However… How did they get in her house? How did they know she was staying at his house? And how did they know she was in the bathroom at that exact moment today?
There’s a leak. Someone is giving them this information. Nick is certain. But who? He stares at his friends.
“Everybody get out,” he demands.
“What?” Bryon is perplexed.
“Out. Now. All of you. I need to think. Make some calls. I’ll get this figured out.” He ignores the insulted look from Dustin. The angry glare from Bryon. The hurt and confused expression on Lila’s face. He crosses his arms over his chest. “I’ll update you guys when I can,” he adds, dismissing them.
***
The feeling of being watched makes Keely open her eyes to the silky white canopy above her. Something stirs at her side. Confused, she turns her head. The room is extremely bright and when she sees him her stomach churns with dread.
“Who did this to you, Keely?” His voice is so wonderful, she finds it hard to hate him. He moves closer and she is shocked by the tension coiling his body. Is he concerned? For her? This has to be a joke.
Her voice comes out strained, scratchy in her raw throat. “As if you don’t know. As if you care.”
She has to hand it to him, he actually appears puzzled as he shakes his head. “I care very much. And I do not know who would do such a thing to someone of such importance. To a child of mine.” His voice tightens at the end. Becomes icy.
Though she already knows, to hear him say it, to confirm it, she gasps in shock. Pulls the sweet smelling sheet closer to her as if she can hide beneath it. Like when she covered her head as a child, certain the boogie man lived in her closet. Now the boogie man is her father. “The same person who murdered your other daughters. The same person who tried to kill me before.”
Her father’s eyes become dark. The color of a stormy sky. Keely cringes away from the fury twisting his features. “Who? I want the name.” His hands fist at his sides causing the veins to bulge on his pale skin.
“My brother,” she whispers.
“No. You’re confused. Asmoday would never.” He shakes his head. “He would never go against my will. You misunderstand, my child. He was merely retrieving you for me. To bring you here.” He lifts his hands and Keely’s eyes dart around the room. It’s the same as before. The strange but lovely wooden bed. The old lamp. The door.
“No,” she says absently.
“No?” He looks amused, as if he is talking to a small child with an overactive imagination.
“No,” she repeats. “Not Asmoday. I mean my other brother. I mean Apophis. And I am quite certain he was trying to kill me. I have the scars to prove it.” She lifts her head. Reveals the shiny scar that crosses her throat now bruised from the shot he delivered to her windpipe in the school bathroom.
“Apophis.” He says it as if it puts a bad taste in his mouth, leaving the one word lingering in the air. Suddenly, he is gone, and she’s left alone in darkness.
Keely wastes no time. She hurries from the bed, her legs tangling in the blanket. She shoves it off of her. Scrambles to the door, flinging it open. The room—it appears to be a formal dining room—is also dark and she realizes that her father must be the one who lights this place so brightly. Moving slowly, she runs her hand across the wall feeling for a light switch. The wall is cold. The room is frigid. Heat must be another thing her father took with him. Her fingers move over the bumps from several coats of paint. The mural, she remembers. The wall ends, and she turns to follow a new wall. A hand clamps around her wrist and she freezes. Somehow, she doesn’t scream. Just a stunned intake of breath is he
r only reaction. She doesn’t even try to pull away because the slithering rush in her veins already tells her who it is.
“Asmoday,” she mouths and somehow he hears her.
“What are you doing here?”
“Daddy dearest left me here.”
The room lights then and he is staring at her. He releases her arm and moves to a high backed chair. His movements are graceful as he pulls the chair out and sits leisurely. He gestures for her to sit, but she is paralyzed by the crawling under her skin. Seeing this, he moves his fingers like a beauty queen waving in a parade. The sensation ceases and Keely sighs in relief.
“How do you do that? Why do you do that?”
“I do not do it purposely. It is our blood. It sings to one another.”
“That’s never happened around Apophis,” she says quietly. Her hands are shaking. She folds them around her.
“Apophis? You two have met?”
“Met? Yeah, we’re old friends,” she states dryly.
He gazes at her for an agonizingly long moment. “You are friends? I doubt that somehow.”
“Wow. Nothing gets by you.”
He laughs, one side of his mouth pulling up in a smirk. “Sit.”
She sits across from him, though she wants nothing more than to find the exit to this place. His eyes brush over her intimately, causing a burst of goose bumps to flood across her skin. She cringes and looks down at the table.
“What happened to you?”
Her head jerks up. “You psychopaths have been trying to kill me for the past two days. Or two years, really. And you patronize me. Well, here. I’m right here. Just do it and get it over with.”
His expression doesn’t waver. It remains the same, relaxed and arrogant. “I did not do that.” He leans forward resting his elbows on the table. “Would you believe me if I told you I was not trying to hurt you?”
“I wouldn’t believe anything that you said.”
“It’s the truth. You have no idea how truly special you are. What you can potentially do…it will change everything.” He stares at her, gaze full of excitement. “Keely, you are safe with me. I swear to it.”
Her mouth pops open. “Oh, I believe you. Really. Now, how do I get home?”
He laughs again. She is annoyed that he is so breath taking. “This is your real home. Please, stay. Stay and anything you wish for will be yours.”
She shakes her head. “All I wish for is to go home—back to Nick’s.”
“Nick is a dreadful, predictable creature. Do you not find him boring?”
“My life has been anything but boring since Nick came into it,” Keely says calmly, but calm is the farthest sensation from how she really feels.
He stands. Walks around the table and squats beside her. “Stay with me, Keely.” He takes her hand. His skin is soft and cool. She notices he smells sweet. Like his father. Her father. Like everything in this place. He smells of summer. Like fresh cut grass, and blossoming flowers, and peppermint. She closes her eyes and inhales deeply. Enjoys the scent. Opens her eyes meeting his rich dark gaze. She enjoys the sight of him. Enjoys his closeness. He moves his free hand up to her face. Fingers graze her cheek ever so lightly. She moves her face into his touch. His lips part into a smile. He releases her hand and cups her face, pulling her to him. She enjoys his touch. Wants to touch him back. Her hands lift slowly, steadily. Her fingers slide down his jaw line. Down his neck. Over his collar bone. She takes pleasure in touching him.
He lets out a breath. It is more than a sigh. His breath blows over her and she wants to taste him. They move at the same time, leaning into each other, her hands gripping his shirt. Eyes falling shut as she pulls him to her. She can hear the rushing beat of his heart. Her speeding pulse matches his. Pounding in unison.
She opens her eyes to darkness. Not just darkness. Pure blackness. As her senses become more alert, she is momentarily disgusted with herself. How could she possibly be attracted to someone she knows is her family. Her brother. It is only a moment though, because now she’s aware of the darkness moving around her. It presses against her with a forceful weight that makes it hard for her lungs to expand. She can see the light around it. The familiar walls of Nick’s apartment on either side. Sees now that the blackness is in the shape of a person. A large man sitting on her. But it’s not a man. It’s smoke. There is a wetness to it though. Like a fog. The stench is terrible. It smells similar to spoiled milk as it rolls over her, smothering her.
She opens her mouth to scream and the blackness rushes in. Thinning itself out like a snake, it hovers over her as it continues shoving its way into her mouth, slithering down her throat to her stomach. She struggles against it. It isn’t fog at all. It is solid and slimy. She cannot grasp it. Her jaw feels as if it is about to break in two.
Keely’s hands fall helplessly to the bed, black with an oily sludge. Her eyes beg to close as the room spins around her. From somewhere far away she hears a door open. Is someone shouting? Her eyelids droop. She raises her eyebrows attempting to keep her eyes open. From her peripheral she sees Nick slash out at her. No, not her. The black snake. She feels it pause. Then it is retreating. Moving back the way it came, flowing out of her in a rush. She gags on the end or the beginning, she isn’t sure which. All she knows is it’s out and she can breathe. She turns her head, rolling to her side as she retches inky slime.
Cool hands pull the hair away from her face and off her neck. “It’s o.k. You’re all right. Get it all out,” Nick soothes.
She looks up at him through her tears. She can feel the running mascara burn her eyes. Nick uses the end of his tee shirt to wipe her mouth. She flings herself off the bed. Crushes herself into him, hugging him, grateful to be alive.
***
Bryon moves quietly around the apartment building to Nick’s only window. Lowers himself to the ground and peers inside. He blinks in surprise at what he sees. Keely and Nick are locked together in an embrace. He wipes dirt away from the window, sure he is seeing wrong. The image doesn’t change. She is nearly sitting in his lap on the floor. Nick rubs his hand up and down her back. Bryon pushes himself up from the ground and jogs back to his car. That had been the last thing he expected.
All this time he thought she didn’t like being touched. That it reminded her of the night she was attacked. He understood that. He never pushed it. Now he truly understands. She just can’t stand to be touched by him.
At least she’s all right. That’s what he wanted to see. Now he knows. She obviously is recovering nicely.
Bryon starts the car. Slams it into gear. Drives all the way home. It’s not until he pulls into the driveway that he realizes he has no memory of the ride. He had been too lost in thought. He pulls his cell phone out of his pocket and looks for a number in his call log. Finding it, he blows out a long breath and hits send.
“Bryon Hill? To what do I owe the pleasure of this phone call?” Dana purrs on the other end of the line.
“Dana, believe me, the pleasure is all mine. Are you doing anything right now?”
“Absolutely,” she says, her voice dropping to a breathy whisper. “I’m waiting on you.”
***
Keely stands under the hot water spraying from the shower head for so long her fingers prune. She scrubs away all the black ick. Then washes herself all over again. Tying a towel around her, she brushes her teeth three times, then rummages through the medicine cabinet until she finds mouth wash. Gargles twice. Wipes the steamed mirror and stares at her reflection. The hair dye is nearly gone. Streaks of blond showing through. She brushes her hair, tearing through it and enjoying the pain it causes. It brings her back to reality. There are dark circles under her eyes. Her skin seems almost gray. The color of her lips is wrong too. They are more purple than their usual pink. She looks terrible. Her outside matching her inside.
She looks back to her eyes. They aren’t the green they should be. Instead they are black as pitch. She leans closer, inspecting, sees no other color to her eye
s. Decides her pupils are merely dilated from the concussion.
Keely dresses in thin cotton pajama shorts and an oversized tee shirt that used to be her dad’s. Her real dad, the one who raised her, not the sperm donor. She feels dizzy as she bends over to pick up her dirty clothes so she decides to leave them and wobbles out of the bathroom.
“You look like crap,” Nick comments.
“Thanks. You’re great at making a girl feel good about herself.” She sits on the floor—the futon is wet where Nick washed the spots of goo and vomit. “You need some furniture.”
“I have noticed that. How’s your head?”
“Dizzy and sore.”
“How about the other thing? Your stomach?” He cringes as he says it. She shivers at the horrible memory.
“Actually, as weird as it may sound, I’m really hungry.”
Nick smiles at her. “I can’t imagine why. You haven’t eaten in what? Like twenty-four hours? Probably longer. I don’t have much.” He turns into the kitchen. “You want some eggs?”
Keely misses fruits and vegetables. She shakes her head. “Can we go to the store?” She’s pretty sure she has some cash on her. She has a credit card for emergencies as well. This should qualify.
Nick walks back to stand in front of her. He’s staring. “What?”
Exhaling loudly, he says, “I just don’t know if you should be going out. You’ve been attacked three times in the past two days. You have a concussion and you look like hell. Your eyes even look funny. I think you should just rest.”
“I want to go to the store,” Keely says slowly, enunciating every word carefully, coldly. She doesn’t understand why she’s getting so upset, but she doesn’t care. He will not tell her no.
“Keely, calm down. I’ll just make you something. There has to be something in this apartment that you’ll eat.” Nick turns back to the kitchen and Keely is on her feet. She moves to the door quickly. Fumbles the lock. Gets it open. Nick is there, pushing it shut before she can leave.