After Moonrise: Possessed\Haunted (29 page)

“Most kids want their parents to stay together,” she said, a
sharp edge to her voice.

“I’m not like most kids. You guys made sure of that.” There was
an even sharper edge to
my
voice.

I just… I wanted what other kids had. A normal life.

In a snap, the anger drained from her and she sighed. “Alice,
honey, I know this is hard. I know you want more for yourself, and one day
you’ll have it. You’ll graduate, get a job, move out, go to college, fall in
love, travel, do whatever your heart desires. As for now, this is your father’s
house and he makes the rules. You will follow those rules and respect his
authority.”

Straight out of the Parent’s Official Handbook, right under the
heading
“What to say when you don’t have a real answer for
your kid.”

“And maybe,” she added, “when you’re in charge of your own
household, you’ll realize your dad did the things he did to protect us. He loves
us, and our safety is the most important thing to him. Don’t hate him for
that.”

I should have known. The good-and-evil speech always circled
around to love and hate. “Have you ever seen one of his monsters?” I asked.

A pause. A nervous laugh. “I have refused to answer that
question the other thousand times you asked, so what makes you think I’ll answer
it today?”

“Consider it a late birthday present, since you won’t give me
what I really want.” That was a low blow, and I knew it. But again, I refused to
apologize.

She flinched. “I don’t like to discuss these things with you
girls because I don’t want to scare you further.”

“We aren’t scared now,” I lashed out. “You are!”
Calm down. Deep breath in…out
… I had to do this
rationally. If I freaked, she’d send me to my room and that would be that. “Over
the years, you should have seen at least one monster. I mean, you spend the most
time with Dad. You’re with him at night, when he patrols the house with a
gun.”

The only time I’d dared venture into the hall after midnight,
hoping to get a glass of water since I’d forgotten to bring one to my room,
that’s
what I’d seen. My dad clutching a pistol,
marching this way and that, stopping to peer out each and every window.

I’d been thirteen at the time, and I’d almost died of a heart
attack. Or maybe embarrassment, since I’d come pretty close to peeing
myself.

“Fine. You want to know, I’ll tell you. No, I haven’t seen
them,” she said, not really shocking me. “But I
have
seen the destruction they cause. And before you ask me how I know
they
were the ones to cause the destruction, let me
add that I’ve seen things that can’t be explained any other way.”

“Like what?” I peeked over my shoulder. Em had moved to the
swing set and was now rocking back and forth, but she hadn’t dropped me from the
crosshairs of her hawk eyes.

“That, I still won’t tell you,” Mom said. “There are some
things you’re better off not knowing, no matter what you say. You’re just not
ready. Babies can handle milk, but they can’t handle meat.”

I wasn’t a baby, blah, blah, blah, whatever. Worry had
contorted Emma’s features. I forced myself to smile, and she immediately
brightened as if this was now a done deal. As if I hadn’t failed her in this
regard a million times before.

Like the time she’d wanted to attend the art exhibit at her
school, where her papier-mâché globe had been on display. Like the time her Girl
Scout troupe had gone camping. Like the hundred times her friend Jenny had
called and asked if she could stay the night. Finally, Jenny had stopped
calling.

Pressure building… Can’t fail this
time…

I faced my mother. She still had her back to me and hadn’t
abandoned the stove. In fact, she was forking the noodles one at a time, testing
their flexibility as if the chore was the most important thing
ever
. We’d done this same dance before. She was an
avoider, and she’d just hit her stride.

“Forget the monsters and what you have and haven’t seen.
Today’s my birthday, and all I want is for us to go to my sister’s ballet
recital like a normal family. That’s it. That’s all. I’m not asking for the
world. But if you don’t have the guts, fine. If Dad doesn’t, whatever. I’ll call
one of my friends from school and we’ll go without you.” The drive into the city
was at least half an hour, so there was no way we could walk. “And you know
what? If you make me go that route, you’ll break Em’s heart and I will never
forgive you.”

She sucked in a breath, stiffened. I’d probably just shocked
the crap out of her. I was the calm one in the family. I hardly ever lashed out,
rarely went mental. For the most part, I accepted and I rolled.

“Alice,” she said, and I gritted my teeth.

Here it comes. The refusal
. Tears
of crushing devastation burned my eyes, splashed onto my cheeks. I scrubbed them
away with the back of my hand. “Forget about my lack of forgiveness. I will
hate
you for this.”

She glanced back at me, sighed. Her shoulders sagged in defeat.
“All right. I’ll talk to him.”

* * *

A
LL
THROUGH
HER
PERFORMANCE
,
Em
glowed
. She also dominated that
stage, kicking butt and not bothering with names. Honestly, she put the other
girls to shame. And that wasn’t sibling pride talking. That was just plain
fact.

She twirled and smiled and utterly dazzled, and everyone who
watched her was as enraptured as I was. Surely. By the time the curtain closed
two hours later, I was so happy for her I could have burst. And maybe I did
burst the eardrums of the people in front of me. I think I clapped louder than
anyone, and I definitely whistled shrilly enough to cause brain bleeds.

Those people would just have to deal. This was the
best. Birthday. Ever
. For once, the Bells had attended
an event like a normal family.

Of course, my dad almost ruined everything by continually
glancing at his wristwatch and turning to eye the back door as if he expected
someone to volley in an H-bomb. So, by the time the crowd jumped up for a
standing O, and despite my mad rush of happiness, he’d made me so tense my bones
were practically vibrating.

Even still, I wasn’t going to utter a single word of complaint.
Miracle of miracles, he’d come. And all right, okay, so the miracle had been
heralded by a bottle of his favorite whiskey, and he’d had to be stuffed in the
passenger seat of the car like the cream filling in a Twinkie, but whatever. He
had come!

“We need to leave,” he said, already edging his way to the back
door. At six-four, he was a tall man, and he loomed over everyone around him.
“Grab Em and let’s go.”

Despite his shortcomings, despite how tired his self-medication
had become, I loved him, and I knew he couldn’t help his paranoia. He’d tried
legitimate medication with no luck. He’d tried therapy and gotten worse. He saw
monsters no one else could see, and he refused to believe they weren’t actually
there—or trying to eat him and kill all those he loved.

In a way, I even understood him. One night, about a year ago,
Em had been crying about the injustice of missing yet another slumber party. I,
in turn, had raged at our mother, and she had been so shocked by my atypical
outburst that she’d explained what she called “the beginning of your father’s
battle with evil.”

As a kid, my dad had witnessed the brutal murder of his own
father. A murder that had happened at night, in a cemetery, while his father had
been visiting Grandmother Alice’s grave. The event had traumatized my dad. So,
yes, I got it.

Did that make me feel any better right now? No. He was an
adult. Shouldn’t he handle his problems with wisdom and maturity? I mean, how
many times had I heard “Act like an adult, Alice.” Or, “Only a child would do
something like that, Alice.”

My take on that? Practice what you preach, people. But what did
I know? I wasn’t an ever-knowing
adult;
I was just
expected to act like one. And, yeah. A real nice family tree I had. Murder and
mayhem on every gnarled branch. Hardly seemed fair.

“Come on,” he snapped now.

My mom rushed to his side, all comfort and soothing pats. “Calm
down, darling. Everything’s going to be okay.”

“We can’t stay here. We have to get home where it’s safe.”

“I’ll grab Em,” I said. The first flickers of guilt hit me,
stinging my chest. Maybe I’d asked too much of him. And of my mom, who would
have to peel him from the roof of the car when we finally pulled into our
monster-proof garage. “Don’t worry.”

My skirt tangled around my legs as I shoved my way through the
crowd and raced past the stage curtain. Little girls were everywhere, each of
them wearing more makeup, ribbons and glitter than the few strippers I’d seen on
TV. When I’d been innocently flipping channels. And accidentally stopped on
stations I wasn’t supposed to watch. Moms and dads were hugging their daughters,
praising them, handing them flowers, all about the congratulations on a
job-well-done thing. Me, I had to grab my sister’s hand and beat feet, dragging
her behind me.

“Dad?” she asked, sounding unsurprised.

I threw her a glance over my shoulder. She had paled, those
golden eyes too old and knowledgeable for her angel face. “Yeah.”

“What’s the damage?”

“Nothing too bad. You’ll still be able to venture into public
without shame.”

“Then I consider this a win.”

Me, too.

People swarmed and buzzed in the lobby like bees, half of them
lingering, half of them working their way to the doors. That’s where I found my
dad. He’d stopped at the glass, his gaze panning the parking lot. Halogens were
placed throughout, lighting the way to our Tahoe, which my mom had parked
illegally in the closest handicapped space for an easy in, easy out. His skin
had taken on a grayish cast, and his hair now stood on end, as if he’d scrambled
his fingers through the strands one too many times.

Mom was still trying to soothe him. Thank goodness she’d
managed to disarm him before we’d left the house. Usually he carried guns,
knives and throwing stars whenever he dared to venture out.

The moment I reached him, he turned and gripped me by the
forearms, shaking me. “You see anything in the shadows, anything at all, you
pick up your sister and run. Do you hear me? Pick her up and run back inside.
Lock the doors, hide and call for help.” His eyes were an electric blue, wild,
his pupils pulsing over his irises.

The guilt, well, it stopped flickering and kicked into a
hard-core blaze. “I will,” I promised, and patted both of his hands. “Don’t
worry about us. You taught me how to protect myself. Remember? I’ll keep Em
safe. No matter what.”

“Okay,” he said, but he looked far from satisfied. “Okay,
then.”

I’d spoken the truth. I didn’t know how many hours I’d logged
in the backyard with him, learning how to stop an attacker. Sure, those lessons
had been all about protecting my vital organs from becoming some mindless
being’s dinner, but self-defense was self-defense, right?

Somehow my mom convinced him to release me and brave the
terrifying outdoors. All the while people shot us weird looks that I tried to
ignore. We walked together, as a family, our feet flying one in front of the
other. Mom and Dad were in front, with me and Em a few steps behind them,
holding hands as the crickets sang and provided us with an eerie sound
track.

I glanced around, trying to see the world as my dad must. I saw
a long stretch of black tar—camouflage? I saw a sea of cars—places to hide? I
saw the forest beyond, rising from the hills—a breeding ground for
nightmares?

Above, I saw the moon, high and full and beautifully
transparent. Clouds still puffed through the sky, orange now and kind of creepy.
And was that…surely not…but I blinked, slowed my pace. Yep. It was. The cloud
shaped like a rabbit had followed me. Fancy that.

“Look at the clouds,” I said. “Notice anything cool?”

A pause, then, “A…rabbit?”

“Exactly. I saw him this morning. He must think we’re
cool.”

“Because we are, duh.”

My dad realized we’d lagged behind, sprinted the distance
between us, grabbed on to my wrist and jerked me faster…faster still…while I
maintained my grip on Emma and jerked
her
along. I’d
rather dislocate her shoulder than leave her behind, even for a second. Dad
loved us, but part of me feared he’d drive off without us if he thought it
necessary.

He opened the car door and practically tossed me in like a
football. Emma was next, and we shared a moment of silent communication after we
settled.

Fun times,
I mouthed
.

Happy birthday to you,
she mouthed
back
.

The instant my dad was in the passenger seat he threw the
locks. He was shaking too hard to buckle his belt, and finally gave up. “Don’t
drive by the cemetery,” he told Mom, “but get us home as fast as you can.”

We’d avoided the cemetery on the way here, too—despite the
daylight—adding unnecessary time to an already lengthy drive.

“I will. No worries.” The Tahoe roared to life, and Mom yanked
the shifter into Reverse.

“Dad,” I said, my voice as reasonable as I could make it. “If
we take the long way, we’ll be snailing it along construction.” We lived just
outside big, beautiful Birmingham and traffic could be a nasty monster on its
own. “That’ll add at least half an hour to our trip. You don’t want us to stay
in the dark, at a standstill, for that long, do you?” He’d work himself into
such a panic we’d all be clawing at the doors to escape.

“Honey?” Mom asked. The car eased to the edge of the lot, where
she had to go left or right. If she went left, we’d never make it home.
Seriously. If I had to listen to my dad for more than thirty minutes, I’d jump
out the window and as an act of mercy I’d take Emma with me. If Mom went right,
we’d have a short ride, a short anxiety attack to deal with, but a quick
recovery. “I’ll drive so fast you won’t even be able to
see
the cemetery.”