Part 23 (1/2)

”I thought so, too. Oh, and she said something about cookies and ice cream for dinner?”

”Yep, I have it all ready.”

”Well, that'll be something after weeks of MREs.”

Weird to have such a normal conversation with my old man, but I liked it. ”Yeah. I want plenty of real food tomorrow, though. Like a metric ton's worth.”

”Deal.”

Five minutes later, we turned into my neighborhood and Penn pulled into my driveway. ”Need help with anything?” she asked.

All the way home, I'd seen the strained, eager looks she and Will were giving each other. They only had two days to make up for lost time and needed to be rid of the third wheel. ”Nah, I got it. You guys go on.”

As soon as I made it to the front door, I made a show of waving, and they pulled away. I took a slow breath, drawing comfort from the familiar glow of my porch light. Home. I was finally home.

I had the key in the lock. I was right there.

And Mamie screamed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

I tossed the grocery bags into the bushes and shouldered my way through the front door. ”Mamie!”

Brent, roaring like a bull. Plates and pots cras.h.i.+ng to the floor. They were in the kitchen.

A flash of light and something squealed-not human. I rounded the corner in the living room at top speed, cras.h.i.+ng into the side of the couch but fighting to stay upright.

Then Mamie screamed in pain and Brent snapped, ”Get behind me!”

I yanked my knife from its sheath and barreled into the kitchen. Every light was on, casting an almost surgical glow to the room. I let out a cry that was part rage, part horror and skidded to a stop just inside the door.

Sage-colored ashes littered the kitchen floor and the smell of burned flesh and bone filled the air. Mamie stood behind Brent, backed up against the kitchen counter dividing the cooking area from the dining area. Her eyes glowed bright blue. My brother held a baseball bat, muscles flexed to rival the Hulk.

They were surrounded by a legion of dull green, long-limbed creatures with cruel pinched faces and snide smiles. The biggest one jerked its head at me. ”Wielder's here. Make it quick.”

Three of the demons came at me. I kicked the first one away and it collided with the other two. They tried to get up, but I was on them before they could. I skewered two with a couple of quick stabs, then slashed the third across the throat. As they fell, they disintegrated into dust like the stuff on the kitchen floor.

Brent roared again. Six demons advanced on him at once. He shoved Mamie around the counter while punching one of the creatures so hard, he broke its neck. As I waded through the crowd, cutting down demons as I went, two leapt at Brent's head. The baseball bat whistled through the air like a broadsword and both creatures were thrown into the kitchen window. The gla.s.s splintered on impact.

Good G.o.d. He was a total beast and he didn't even have a knife. I'd never seen anyone kill monsters hand-to-hand like that. Not anyone.

Not even me.

”She's hurt,” Brent said, refocusing my attention on the fight. He moved into the s.p.a.ce between the wall and the counter to block the path to Mamie. ”I got this. You find a way to get her out of here.”

I glanced back at my sister. The blue light had dulled from her eyes and a trickle of blood dripped down her forehead. She seemed close to pa.s.sing out, like the kitchen counter was all that was holding her up. My rage flared and I sliced apart two demons in my path, but the room was still full of them. This would be a war of attrition.

Fighting my way through took all my concentration, but I knew Brent would hold the line until I got there. Demons were leaping at my face and trying to get behind me. From the grunts of exertion and the wet thunks of a baseball bat striking flesh, my brother sounded just as busy. The fight felt like it was taking hours, but it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds before Brent gasped in pain.

I looked up in time to see three demons vault the counter and surround Mamie. Two more ripped the baseball bat from Brent's hands. He punched and kicked at them, but one snuck in under his arm.

A spurt of red blood arced across the kitchen counter and Brent went down on a knee. I fought my way closer, but it was too late. My brother crashed to the kitchen floor, gasping like a fish out of water, bleeding heavily from a stomach wound. He turned his head to face me. ”Stop ... them.”

One of the demons laughed and made a show of licking its claws. Blood. It was licking blood from its claws. And it was laughing.

Something inside me snapped. With an animal growl, I finished the last few demons on my side of the kitchen, then launched over the counter to meet the monsters flanking Mamie. Tears rolled down her face and she shook her head.

The largest demon grabbed her arm and said, ”Big one's finished. Keep the wielder busy.”

Before I could attack, before I could do anything at all, Mamie and the creature disappeared. Just vanished.

The other two came at me, claws out and wicked fast. But I was crazy, a monster myself, and I tore them to pieces.

The pieces turned to ashes, and the kitchen was suddenly quiet. Shaking, I grabbed a kitchen towel and stumbled back to Brent. So much blood. It was everywhere, saturating his s.h.i.+rt, pooling on the floor.

I covered the worst of his wounds. ”G.o.d. Oh, G.o.d. Stay with me.”

”She was going to read ... something to us ... from that book ... said it was important ... but they came ... like they wanted to stop her,” Brent wheezed. With each word, bright red blood bubbled from his mouth. More trickled through the towel to stain my fingers. ”I tried ... I'm sorry.”

”It's not your fault,” I whispered, pressing the towel tighter against his belly. I needed to call for help, but I couldn't let go or he'd bleed out. I forced the sobs that threatened to burst free of my chest down, deep into my gut. ”It's mine. If I'd made it inside faster-”

He reached up and touched my face with two fingers. His blood was warm against my cheek. ”No. It's his fault.” He worked hard to draw in a breath. ”That ... G.o.dd.a.m.n shadow. Make him ... pay for it. Make him ... bleed.”

The front door opened and Mom called, ”Kids? Dad and I are back! Why is there ice cream in the bushes?”

”Help!” I shouted. ”Quick!”

Footsteps pounded through the house and Dad sprinted into the kitchen. He fell to his knees and slid across the tile floor, stopping next to Brent. After pus.h.i.+ng my hands away to look at the wound, his expression took on a cold, a.n.a.lytical glare that told me he'd locked his emotions away.

”More towels,” he snapped.

Mom came in and stopped short with a cry. The sound of it, of horror strangled in her throat, shredded my insides.

I handed Dad every kitchen towel we had. In a calm voice, he said, ”Dani, call 911.”

Mom didn't move.

”Dani!” His bark could've cut through diamond and her eyes snapped to meet his. ”Call 911.”

She dumped her entire purse out on the kitchen table and found her phone. With shaking fingers she dialed and told the operator intruders had broken in and stabbed her son.

In the quiet after her call, we surrounded Brent. I knelt at his right, Dad at his left and Mom cradled his head in her lap.