Nancy K. Duplechain - Dark Trilogy 03 - Dark Legacy (13 page)

“Well, people
are harder than animals. And quit changing the subject. I’m begging you to have
that surgery. Please.” The waver in my voice and the stinging of my eyes took
me by surprise. I really did feel like I wanted to cry, thinking about never
seeing her again. She seemed to notice.

“I’ll do it,”
she said, her voice quiet and defeated. “But only on one condition.” Her eyes
found mine. “You go with Miles to Paris.”

“I can’t believe
this,” I said under my breath.

“You need to
go,” she urged.

“Has he been
here to see you?”

“He came by here
a couple of hours ago.”

“And
he
couldn’t bother to come get me and tell me that you were in here?”

“I told him not
to. I didn’t want Lucas to get you, either. I needed time to myself to think
things through.” Her eyes turned toward me again. “I don’t
want
you to
go, but …” She sighed, sounding more tired than ever. “I’ve done my best to
protect you and your brother since your mama died. I didn’t do such a good job
with your brother, and maybe I’m not doing such a good job with you.”

“What happened
to him wasn’t your fault. None of this is.”

She nodded
toward Lyla, who was still sleeping. “That little girl needs to be allowed to
grow up. She needs to … have her first dance with a boy, drive her first car,
get married and have babies if she wants to. I’m too old to look after her. And
I hate that I’m asking you to do it, but I believe Miles when he says you need
to go with him. There are dark times in front of us. Older I get, harder it is
to see the good anymore.”

I reached over
for her and gently took her hand in mine. “I want that for Lyla, too.”

She gave me a
tired smile. “Then go.”

I slept at
Clothilde’s house that night so that I could watch over Lyla. Being back home
was comfortable and familiar and had that safe feeling, like you’ll always be
protected. It smelled like lavender most of the time because of the potpourri
next to the Tootsie Rolls on the coffee table, but her bedroom smelled faintly
of cedar from the big cedar chest where she stored her quilts. Today the house
smelled like mustard greens. Lyla said they had some last night with dinner. I
was happy to know there were leftovers.

I ordered a
pizza, and we finished off the mustard greens. Cee Cee called to tell me she’d
be arriving day after tomorrow, but to make sure that I called her as soon as
the surgery was over. Lyla and I attempted to play Scrabble, but our hearts
weren’t in it. Even small, three-letter words seemed too much of a chore. We
gave up and watched a little TV before an early bed time. Clothilde’s surgery
was scheduled for 7:00, so I figured we needed to be up by 5:30 or 6:00 at the
latest.

“Maw Maw Clo’s
going to make it, won’t she?”

I pulled the
covers up to Lyla’s chest and smiled at her. “That’s a tough old lady. She’ll
make it.”

It seemed to
comfort her, but she didn’t smile. Smittens jumped up on the bed and curled up
next to her head.

“Smittens looks
a little rough around the edges. I think he needs a bath,” I said.

“
She
,”
she corrected. “You don’t bathe cats. They bathe themselves.”

“Well,
she’s
not doing such a good job. Maybe I’ll look into that dry cat shampoo or
something. Night, Lyla.”

I patted her on
the head and petted Smittens once, and then put out the light and went to the
guest room. I stayed up for another hour, trying to read but barely getting
past two pages. I kept reading the same paragraphs over and over, not retaining
anything. I finally gave up and turned out the light.

My phone rang at
3:00 AM. The light from the small screen filled my room. I groggily reached for
it.

“Hello?”

The voice again.
So far away, so small. “Help her now!”

“What? Who?”

“Lyla!”

My eyes
fluttered open. I clumsily turned on the lamp and looked down at the phone in
my hand. It was off.

“Hello?”

No answer. I
left it on the bed and stumbled into Lyla’s room. She wasn’t there. I checked
the bathroom. No one there.

“Lyla!”

I ran
downstairs, nearly tripping on my feet.

“Lyla!”

She wasn’t in
the kitchen or the living room. On the way to check Clothilde’s room, I felt a
breeze coming from the utility room. The back door was open.

I ran to the
threshold and was overcome by a thick fog that covered the back yard.

“Lyla!”

It was as quiet
as a tomb. The fog hung there like a blanket, no breeze to move it along. It
smelled like damp earth. I turned on the outside light, but it hardly helped.

I cautiously
made my way down the steps. My feet weren’t visible, but I felt the wet grass
under them. The air was a little chilly, or maybe I was shaking for another
reason.

“Lyla!”

I stubbed my toe
on one of the garden fence posts and cursed. I closed my eyes and listened,
hearing only my breath. My heart thumped in my chest. I forced myself to slow
it down. The more I tried to calm myself, the faster it thumped, blood rushing
against my ear drums. After a minute, I heard branches cracking in the
distance, somewhere beyond the tree line beyond the chicken coup.

One weekend last
spring, Lucas and I put a chicken wire fence around the garden to keep the
rabbits out. The wooden posts were spaced five feet apart, and I knew the
southwest corner was near the coup by the outdoor kitchen. I reached out for
the top edge of the fence and let it guide me. The wire was slick with dew.

“Lyla!”

My voice didn’t
even echo. But I did hear more leaves rustling farther away, near the corner of
the sugar cane field behind Clothilde’s property line marked by the trees. If
that sound was Lyla, why wasn’t she answering me?
Probably an animal.

I reached the
post on the southwest corner and heard the chickens softly cooing nearby. I
stepped forward and was met with acute pain as my left foot found a cockaburr.
I yelled and bit my lip, steadying myself as I brought my left foot down gently
on my right to sooth it. Tears stung my eyes.

The noise again,
to my right, past the chicken coop, just beyond the tree line. Moving
cautiously, I shuffled, trying to avoid anymore cockaburrs and cursing myself
for not putting on my shoes.

Behind the coup
was the tree line of the property that loomed before me, though I could only
see a few feet above my head. I knew there was a sparse patch in the corner
from where we’d enter the sugar cane field next door and then loop around to
the little bayou to go fishing sometimes. I found the passage, getting scraped
by jutting branches, and found myself in the southeast corner of the
neighboring field. The fog was gone. Looking back through the passage, I saw
the wall of fog on the other side. Here, it was a clear night, the half moon
revealing the tall sugar cane that would be ready for harvest in a few weeks.

Something
screamed. It sounded like a woman, but not quite; there was something inhuman
about it. This was followed by a man screaming in pain. About a hundred yards
from me, the stalks of sugar cane thrashed wildly back and forth.

To my left, a
louder sound of branches cracking. A glimpse of light fabric passing through
the trees farther down. Lyla’s nightgown.

“Lyla!”

It was gone.
More branches cracking, and now a splash in the distance. Lyla wasn’t a sleep
walker, but if for some reason she was doing just that, she could have fallen
in the bayou. I ran toward sound, hardly noticing the twigs and cockaburrs I
trampled on the way. My mind was in panic mode.

Breathless, I
made it to the northern bank of the small bayou. Scanning it for a moment, I
saw nothing.

“LYLA!”

I looked for
rippling water, anything that would show me where she was. And then I spotted
something to my right. I thought it was a shadow at first. It looked like a writhing
silhouette of a woman, slithering across tree trunks, going under the shallow
water and re-emerging to crawl backwards up a tree. She was advancing on Lyla,
who stood, dazed and soaking wet, on a small island in the middle of the bayou.

“Lyla! Wake up!”

I heard
something charging fast, coming from behind. I turned in time to see a cougar
leap at the woman and tear at her, biting and clawing. She fought back with her
own monstrous claws, hacking into the cat. And out of nowhere, Noah showed up.
He was bloody, torn up on half his body. He hurled the woman against a tree and
then he collapsed.

Her body arched
and a spasm rippled through. Her jaw unhinged, and eight long arachnid legs
stuck out on either side of her mouth, the muscles violently contracting, and a
huge spider, half the size of her body, emerging. It reared on its hind legs
before scurrying away beyond the bayou.

Lyla passed out.
I sloshed through the water and scooped her up in my arms and brought her back
to the bank, placing her next to Noah.

He was pale, and
his eyes were closed. I healed him, my hands against his wounds. He came around
after a few moments. I looked over at the cougar lying helplessly on the bank
of the water. Its breath was shallow, and it was in a pool of blood. I
cautiously went to it and placed my hand on the large gash in its side. In a
few moments, it was able to move, and its breathing had returned to normal. I
backed away and huddled next to Noah and Lyla as the big cat bounded after the
spider.

I whirled around
to Noah. “What the hell just happened?”

“Miles had me on
guard duty. He said not to tell you, that you probably wouldn’t like it.
Anyway, I noticed this fog came out of nowhere, and I smelled some Dark Ones. I
got out my car and scoped out the house. I found Lyla sleep walking or
something in the back yard. I tried to wake her, but she just kept walking,
heading this way. I picked her up to carry her back, but I was attacked from
behind. I chased after this …
thing
! I don’t know. Some woman, but it
was a shadow and then a snake. It bit the hell out of me. I gave it a good
pummeling before it got away. I was about to go after it when I heard you
yelling.”

“Where’d that
cougar come from? We don’t have those here.”

“I’ve only seen
one before. A long time ago.”

***

He carried Lyla
back to bed for me. I dried her off and changed her clothes before tucking her
in. She woke up only for a moment. I asked her if she was okay, and she nodded,
asking me why I was in her room. I put out the light and went to my bedroom to
pull out the biggest T-shirt I had and then joined Noah downstairs.

He was on the
couch, checking out where his wounds were just a few minutes ago, his tattered
shirt on the coffee table. He looked up at me. “You’re a way better healer than
you were a few months ago. I don’t even have any scars.” He smirked.

I smirked back,
wadded up the T-shirt and threw it at him. He held it up and said, “Wonder
Woman. Um … thanks?”

“Sorry, no boy
clothes here. Unless Jonathan left something behind one night, but I don’t
think Sponge Bob undies suit you. Or maybe they do?”

He chuckled and
put on the T-shirt, which was still too small for him; Wonder Woman’s face
stretched across his pecs, and the sleeves were possibly cutting off the
circulation in his biceps. The long pink scar stood out on his arm.

I nodded toward
the scar. “I can probably take care of that for you.”

“Nah, I think
I’ll hang on to it.” He nodded toward his shirt on the table. “Ya think you can
heal that for me?”

I rolled my eyes
and smiled. “I’ll put it in the trash before I go back to sleep.
If
I
can go back to sleep.”

He looked
concerned. “You okay?”

I thought about
it for a second and then shook my head, biting my lip. I hated crying in front
of people. I bit my lip so hard I tasted a little blood, but my eyes stung with
tears anyway. I wiped them away before they fell.

Noah came over
to me and hugged me, smoothing my hair. “I know,” he whispered. He smelled like
blood and sugar.

It was almost 4:00,
and the world was still black outside. I felt I wouldn’t be able to sleep. I
offered Clothilde’s room to Noah, but he said he’d stay up with me. I took a shower
and then made some coffee for us while he took a shower. Then we just talked, not
about what happened that night or about going to Paris or missions and the Dark
Side. We talked about growing up and places we had been and movies and music we
liked. He and I were pretty opposite, as it turned out.

What we did have
in common was that our bloodlines led us to this dangerous destiny, and that
we’d both crossed the line to save someone we loved. And we’d do it all over
again.