Desired by Shadow (A Shadow Walkers Novel) (25 page)

He held up his hand showing off the thick bandages. “This is your fault.”

“I don’t understand. What happened?”

“Because I let you go, they took two of my fingers and took Josh to the basement as punishment.” Thrusting his hand in her face, Ned looked unhinged. Why hadn’t anyone come to see what the commotion was? Robert should be back soon so she’d stall until he made it back or someone heard and came to check on her.

“Josh is dead?” Was it wrong to feel nothing but relief? Her betrayer was no more. A weight lifted off her soul, she could breathe again.

Ned was shaking, a fine sheen of sweat on his face and neck. Maybe he was on something? “I’m really sorry about your hand. I had no idea they would punish you for me leaving. I truly am.” She patted the arm of the sofa. “We can talk about it. Robert will be back any time now and he’ll help you. You won’t have to go back to Bruce or that wretched house ever again.” The pleading, sad voice was hers though it sounded strange to her ears.

“Go back? I’m working for Bruce now, one of his soldiers. Said he needs me. Robert is it? Don’t you know those guys are evil? They’re destroying our planet and we have to get rid of them all.” His eyes glowed like some of the IRA fanatics she’d seen on the telly. Great, he’d been assimilated. Icy fingers walked down her spine.

“Ned. You never answered me. How. Did. You. Find. Me?”

“Oh, Mags. It wasn’t hard. There’s a creature, a three-headed hound from hell, scariest thing I’ve ever seen. Told us where you’d gone.”

Maybe he meant that metaphorically? Not sure her brain could handle another supernatural being. Ned was standing right in front of her, less than an arm’s reach away.

“Mags, Mags, Mags. You brought this on yourself by running. We need your special abilities, even if you are crazy. Now I have to prove myself worthy to the cause and then I’ll have a home.” He pulled out a gun, his arm shaking as he leveled it at her. Anger rocketed through her.

“Cowardly bastard. You’re no better than Josh. At least he made three hundred quid. What did you get?” White-hot fury radiated through her core and she sneered at him, the gun forgotten.

“A new life.” The sound of a gun cocking shattered the silence of the library. “Goodbye Mags.”

There was nowhere to run. The gun was at point blank range. When she closed her eyes it wasn’t her life that flashed before her…it was Robert’s face. She loved him.

The pressure in the room changed making her ears pop. A loud crunch and a scream made her open her eyes. Staggering back, her knees hitting the chair, she sunk to the floor.

“I was detained on an errand, then I almost forgot my favorite wasabi sauce and had to go back for it. Allow me to introduce myself, I’m Fury.” The largest middle head licked its chops. Ned was curled into a ball on the rug, moaning, blood pooling around him as he clutched a bloody stump where his arm used to be.

“Um, you really are a three-headed hound from hell. I thought maybe he meant it in the abstract, you know, that you were so terrible or something.”

The head on the left swiveled around to look at her. “I think we should be insulted.”

“No, she just needs to get used to us.” The head on the right replied.

The dog, hound, whatever it was, looked at her. “Give us a few minutes to dispose of the trash and then we’ll have a nice chat.” Before she could utter anything but a gurgle, the beast drizzled the sauce all over Ned and proceeded to eat him. This wasn’t happening. Plugging her ears, Maggie curled up into a ball, pressing her head against her knees, shutting out the gruesome noises around her.

A tongue licked her hand. She thought she’d have a heart attack and scrambled back towards the fire.

“Don’t be afraid of me. After all, I’m the one who rescued you.”

“Rescued? Ned said you told everyone where I was. Why save me?” The heads were grooming the blood and other grisly bits off the midnight black coat. A part of her detached from reality, noting his fur was thick and glossy, almost a blue-black and each head had different colored eyes. Really rather striking.

“Maggie is it? Are you okay? Looks like you might lose your lunch. To answer your question…I’m bound to work for Dayne for another year. However it’s all in the wording so while I had to tell them your location, nothing said I couldn’t stop them.” The middle head looked at her as if it were the most normal response.

“I…I can’t take another ‘other being’.” Her arms gave out and her butt hit the floor. As blackness took her, she swore she heard the beast chuckle.

Maggie woke from the dream. She’d been dreaming about Lulu. The stuffed cat she’d carried everywhere as a child. In her dream, Lulu could talk. Talking cats? The subconscious was a mystery. Memories swam before her, and she sank down into them, floating and remembering as scenes from her life rolled over her like waves buffeting a rowboat in a stormy ocean. “Please mam, don’t leave me.” She was seven. Her daddy died when she was a baby or so momma told her. She couldn’t remember him. There weren’t any pictures.

“I’m going to be late for work. Now do what I told you.”

She nodded. Mama would hit her if she didn’t do what she was told. She recited. “Don’t answer the door. Don’t go outside, clean the house, do the dishes and laundry before you get home.” She stared at her mother. She looked like she’d been taking too many of her pills again, stumbling around the small, dingy flat. Praying her mother wouldn’t bring home another man tonight, she stayed small and still so she wouldn’t risk her mam’s temper. Her mother fumbled around for her purse and left without hugging or kissing Maggie goodbye.

Locking the door behind her, she traipsed to the kitchen carrying her stuffed cat, Lulu. It was the only pet she’d been allowed to have. The animal was missing one eye and the stuffing from its back leg but she loved her all the same. Going to the tiny corner, she reached up on the counter and got her princess bowl and spoon. She’d been a good girl so mum had bought her favorite breakfast food…frosted flakes. Opening the refrigerator, she sighed, no milk, again. Pouring the cereal into a bowl, she ate it dry. There was no orange juice either so she drank a glass of water. Washing her dishes, she put them in the strainer and wiped down the table. The sound of kids laughing drew her to the grimy window. Looking out she could see kids of varying ages dressed in uniforms going off to school. Smiling and playing with each other. Why couldn’t she go to school like other kids? Every year she asked and every year the answer was still no. To stop being selfish, thinking of nothing but herself. If she went to school, who would cook and clean? Her mum certainly didn’t have time, what with working three jobs. They owned a telly and when her mother was home, it was on all the time. She usually fell asleep on the couch, the soft blue glow illuminating the shabby furniture. Maggie couldn’t stand the noise. The old lady upstairs, Mrs. Williams, would get her stories from the library each week. She’d taught Maggie her numbers and how to read. She devoured books, soaking up the knowledge. Wishing she was elsewhere.

Tomorrow was her birthday. Maybe if she were really good today, momma would bring her a cupcake with a candle. The day passed quickly as Maggie finished her chores and curled up in bed with a book. She was reading
Little Women
and must have fallen asleep. Waking, the room was in total darkness. It was late. She’d slept through lunch and dinner. Her mother would be furious. Though maybe she wasn’t coming home. Sometimes she didn’t. The worst had been when she’d stayed away for four days. Maggie had run out of food and was hungry, crying when she finally came back and staggered to bed with no explanation as to where she’d been.

A knock made her jump. Afraid, she stayed still and quiet. The sound came again, more insistent. She could see the shadow of feet under the door.
Please let them go away
. She scrunched her eyes shut tight, praying. It seemed like hours had passed when she heard a gentle tap and Mrs. Williams’ voice. “Maggie lass, open the door. ‘Tis all right child.”

Opening the door, Mrs. Williams stood there with a man in uniform and a mean-looking lady. Had they come to take her away? Her lip trembled.

“Let us in, honey.” They sat on the sofa with the stuffing coming out and the springs that poked you in the rear end.

If she didn’t say a word, maybe it would all go away. The officer with kind brown eyes spoke. “Miss, there’s been an accident. Your mum fell at the station today. The train couldn’t stop. I’m sorry but she’s gone.”

Her voice deserted her. This was because she’d fallen asleep without completing all of her chores, it was her fault momma was dead. If she’d been good enough, maybe her mum would be here now instead of these strangers.

“I want my mum.” The sound was scratchy as if dredged up from the bottom of the ocean and full of sand. Tears welled up in her eyes. Mrs. Williams patted her hand.

The mean lady spoke up. “You’ll be coming with me, Maggie. There’s a lovely home for children like you with no family. You’ll have lots of other children to play with. It will be fun.”

“Can I go to school?”

“Yes, there’s a school at the home. Why don’t you run and pack?”

Maggie went to her bedroom. She had one small backpack into which she stuffed her only pair of pajamas and another set of clothing. Her hairbrush, toothbrush and toothpaste and that was it. The clothes and shoes she had completed the sum total of everything she owned in this world. Coming out of the tiny room, she stood looking around the flat. They’d moved so many times she’d lost count. With her mum gone, it didn’t hurt to leave the place.

“All ready to go then?” The lady held out her hand to Maggie. Picking up her stuffed animal, Maggie kept her eyes on the floor and nodded. While she was packing she heard the woman call her an ‘orphan’. She hoped the home and school would be fun. Maybe she could finally have a real friend, no offense to Lulu.

The Westerly Home for Children was dark and forbidding. It looked like one of those scary places where children are sad and lonely. She was afraid.

Time passed by. The caretakers were mean. Locking children in the closet for hours at a time. Sending them to bed without anything to eat for the smallest infraction and worst of all, she was no longer allowed to have her own library books. She could read the books the home had but she wasn’t allowed to take them to her room. The room was a long hallway under the eaves that housed twenty girls. Each had a bed with a small chest at the foot. The boys had a similar layout. She managed to get by simply by keeping quiet and not drawing attention. The other kids called her ‘Mousey Maggie’. As long as they left her alone, she didn’t care. Not a single one of them was ever adopted. More children came and the home grew more and more crowded with less food for all.

Over the years she managed to survive. She’d found a nook in the attic wall where she hid her most treasured possession, a book about different kinds of fruit. When she turned fifteen, everything changed. Life was harder at the home, staff came and went. Mr. Brewer was the most recent custodian. He was super creepy. Always skulking around at bedtime, watching them dress. Finding excuses to come into the girls’ bathroom when they were showering to catch a glimpse of them. After one of the girls returned from the bathroom, pale and crying, refusing to say what happened other than Mr. Brewer touched her, Maggie knew what was coming. Resolve settled around her like a warm blanket.

She would leave. Tonight.

Maggie crept down and out of the orphanage without anyone noticing. All she had were the clothes on her back and a sack of food she pilfered from the locked pantry. She’d picked the lock with a bobby pin.

It was still raining. She stood in the doorway, watching the rain fall in sheets. Standing on a precipice, she could see the rest of her life in front of her. The streets looked welcoming compared to the life she foresaw. Squaring her shoulders, she slipped out into the wet night.

Nine desperate years dragged by. Survive or die. She did whatever it took, stealing, hiding in abandoned buildings, always keeping her guard up. A vendor in Old Town was selling kitchen knives, without an ounce of remorse, she stole a small knife, kept it in the stolen boots she had on. Over the years, she’d had to stab a few men in the arm who tried to take what was hers or worse. When she was old enough, she took whatever odd job she could find, asking for payment under the table. She made less that way but it was worth it to stay under the authorities radar. Once in a while she’d crash at a friend’s place she’d met at a job. Never staying more than a week before moving on. When she saved enough, she’d splurge and stay at a hostel for a few days. Hot showers were a godsend. Otherwise, she washed up in public bathrooms the best she could.

When you didn’t have a home and lived in dirty, empty buildings, it was hard to keep clean. Even more difficult to keep clothing clean. As she grew and clothes no longer fit, she had to pay a few quid at a charity shop for something else to wear. Usually, if the person working was old, she’d steal another outfit when they weren’t paying attention. Putting in on under what she was wearing. She’d lost the guilty feelings a long, long time ago.