Silverthorn (6 page)

“Hey!” I said. “Are you better than God?”

“There is no God!” she screamed with unexpected rage.

I stood in place, for the first time frightened by my niece. My first inclination was to step back and place some distance between us, but if I did, I knew that it she would draw strength from that standpoint, giving her the impression that she could bully others. Instead, she needed a stabilizing voice of reason, and since her mother wasn’t around to fill that role, I took it upon myself to fill the void.

To avoid saying something I’d regret, I said, “Drink your milk.” Then I turned around, grabbed a package of Oreo cookies from the pantry, pulled out a few, and placed them on her plate.

Brandon spun around and his eyes grew large. “Oh yeah!” he shouted with great enthusiasm and appeared beside Celestina and I two couple seconds later. He grabbed an Oreo and passed it side-to-side under his nose while inhaling the aroma. “I’ve been waiting hours for this.” He took a bite and closed his eyes, savoring every second of the cookie. A moan lingered in his throat. “Sweet…beautiful…chocolate.”

“Should we be on diabetic-coma-alert tonight?” I asked.

“I love sugar,” he said, snapping open his eyes to look my way. “I love sugar so much I gargle with it.” He scarfed down the rest of the cookie, grabbed four more, and then hurried out of the kitchen.

I jerked a thumb at his departure and said to Celestina. “He’s the guy the Muppets based the Cookie-Monster upon.” I appreciated the intrusion. It lightened Celestina’s mood. “I’m just saying everyone has free will. You should never take that from them.”

“What about Granny?” she asked, after finishing her sandwich. “Why didn’t she get free will? I’ll bet she didn’t want Zephora to take over her body.”

“You’re right. But here’s the thing. Your grandmother contacted the other side in order to communicate with Zephora. She wanted to access Zephora’s power, but she didn’t consider the risks of doing so.”

“Zephora is evil,” Celestina said, trembling with hatred.

It became apparent that nothing I could do would settle down my niece, so I relied on humor, “The cookies are about six months old, but they should still taste good.”

Celestina had just taken a bite. She opened her mouth, showing me a crumbled Oreo on her tongue.

“That doesn’t look very appetizing,” I said. “But thanks for offering to share.”

She tried talking with an open mouth.

“Sorry. All I hear is ‘Aunt Serena is my absolute favorite family member.’” I pushed the glass of milk toward her. “Was there something else you were trying to say?”

Celestina closed her mouth and gave me an annoyed look. She took a sip from her glass of milk.

“Now as much as I enjoy your company,” I said, “we should get you home.” Seeing her gulping down milk to clear her mouth in order to interject, I said, “Okay, true, your mom is far from perfect, but here’s the thing. She loves you. She makes mistakes. And yes, she’ll continue to make mistakes.” I looked into her eyes for a long beat, hoping she believed what I said. “But she loves you more than
anything
. She wants you to have a better life than she had. I barely know your mom, but I know that much.”

Now that Celestina had finished eating her milk and cookies, she had nothing to say. “Okay,” she said, “we can go.”

Half an hour later, after I dropped off Kendall and Brandon (and made sure no one followed us or lingered anywhere near their apartment), I pulled to the curb across from Celestina’s home. I didn’t intend to awaken my sister, which would surely result in a serious tongue-lashing, so rather than entering the front door, we remained outside and walked to Celestina’s bedroom window. I was shocked not to find any paranormal guards outside, prepared to protect those inside. Then again, Darius might not have had enough time to turn another group of humans into vampires
and
teach them to serve him.

“You got out this way,” I said, “but do you think you can get back in?”

She grinned, removed a Popsicle stick from between the window and the ledge, and hoisted the window open.

I returned her smile. I bet Alexis had once accidentally let that trick slip in her daughter’s presence. “Next time, come visit me in the daylight, okay…and with your mother’s permission!”

“Thanks, Aunt Serena.” She gave me a quick hug and then slithered into the house, closed the window, and shut the blinds.

I scanned the premises, expecting an attack, but none was forthcoming. I contemplated going back to my car, but an unrelenting voice inside me urged me to visit my mother’s bedroom, which I sensed Zephora now resided in, which made sense since the sorceress had taken over my mother’s body. I followed my instincts and when I got there, I found her bedroom window open, a soft breeze pushing the curtain aside every few seconds.

Inside, Zephora lay asleep with her back to me, a blanket covering her body.

“What a pleasant surprise,” Zephora’s spectral form said from right beside me.

“Jesus!” Although I knew she had astral projected, I couldn’t help but jump back from the unexpected disruption, my breath coming quick. Why had she projected if she slept only a few feet away? An instant later, however, I realized that she’d sensed my presence in her sleep, but probably chose to remain asleep and present her spiritual form because it looked creepy to see two versions of her so close together. Well, she succeeded!

“Not quite, but close.” A sweet smile emerged as Zephora’s spirit-self drifted around behind me.

Now I knew why she didn’t have vampires or werewolves protecting the home. She didn’t need them. Who better to protect her home…than her! I glanced at her bodily form on the bed.

“Ooh,” Zephora said and issued a tsk-tsk. “I suspect intentions unbecoming of a lady.”

Inside the bedroom, not more than ten feet away, she turned onto her other side. She opened her eyes, saw me, and smiled. Then she yawned, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep. As if I were nothing more than a harmless insect buzzing about outside her window.

“What’s to stop me from attacking you in your sleep?” I asked her.

Inside the house, Zephora took in a deep breath, smacked her lips, and grinned, once more perfectly aware of what went on outside her window.

“Go ahead,” her spirit form said and gestured toward the window. “I won’t stop you. In fact, I can’t since I’m nothing more than a mirage.”

“But you’re energy. Sort of like a ghost. From the research I’ve done, ghosts, if they’re sufficiently pissed off…can knock an object off a table or push a chair – that sort of thing. So, you’re saying you can’t do that?”

Zephora unveiled an egotistical grin. “Oh, I could do
many
things.” She shrugged nonchalantly. “But it would not be quite as entertaining to show my hand before absolutely necessary.” Her creepy grin remained fixed in place. “Now would it?”

I maintained eye contact, looking for the slightest sign of uncertainty.

The corner of her mouth dipped. A fraction of a second later, however, it returned as though she hadn’t let her guard down.

But her hesitation told me that, for all her power, Zephora wasn’t as powerful as she thought. So I decided to voice a similar thought. “You’ve lived in four different centuries, and you still have the intelligence of a worm.”

A car door slammed on the street behind me. I swiveled in that direction.

Darius strutted across the sidewalk and headed toward me with determined strides, his expression dark and ominous.

“You were saying?” Zephora’s spirit asked.

Inside the bedroom, her body shifted, and the landline phone dropped from her palm and hit the floor. A smile appeared on her face, making it obvious that, while she had her back to me, she had texted Darius and informed him I had intruded on her property. All the while, she slept, as though she couldn’t be bothered while she caught up on her beauty sleep. How odd!

But I didn’t have time to contemplate that. I swung back toward Darius.

Fifteen feet away and closing in with quick but steady strides, he said, “I didn’t expect you to be ready for our showdown so soon. Needless to say, I am quite pleased.” From the devious look on his face, he looked intent on destroying me.

CHAPTER FIVE

Darius’s smile grew with each passing second. “If it is any consolation, if your body absorbs too much punishment, I shall allow you to pass from this life. Is that a fair offer?” He stopped ten feet away from where I stood just outside of Zephora’s bedroom.

“Such a sweetheart.”

A dimple appeared in his cheek as his smile brightened into an “awe, shucks” expression.

I said, “You’ve been to one of Hannibal Lecter’s hospitality courses, haven’t you?”

“I’m unfamiliar with Mr. Lecter.” He rushed forward and immediately eclipsed the distance between us. He threw a right hook.

I stepped back, tapped his fist in the opposite direction, and threw a fist into his cheek.

He went reeling past me, not from the force of my blow, since punches thrown by humans didn’t ordinarily stun vampires, but because I’d redirected his balance. When he regained his poise, he smirked at me. “I see a challenge is in order.” Rather than unbutton his gray blazer and loosen his tie, he ensured that both were tight against his frame. “Excellent. I’m pleased that you have not decided to flee from your promise.”

“I’m a lot of things. But a liar isn’t one of them.”

He rushed me and threw an upper cut.

I dodged his lightning-fast punch, but I couldn’t completely avoid a hammer fist to my head. Knocked to the side, my reflexes kicked in, allowing me to tumble to the ground and bounce back up. Although I’d fought many opponents over the years during martial arts competitions, none of them had the speed or resilience of a vampire. So while I shook the double vision from my head, I felt heat rising inside me, emanating from a point of fright and panic.

Darius charged and threw a right jab.

I avoided it and followed-up backhanded blow before barely blocking a roundhouse kick. Nevertheless, the power behind that blow sent me to the ground and, knowing that Darius would take advantage of this development, I jumped up at the exact moment his left fist flew past my right cheek.

I grabbed his arm and cranked it down, shattering his elbow, then used his leverage to swing my body across his back to drag him to the ground. The second we hit the surface, air rushed out of my lungs, but I’d exhaled at that exact moment so I didn’t lose the critical second I’d need to continue my assault.

Fearing that I hadn’t been quick enough, I felt a surge of warmth spreading through me until it slammed into my hands. Rather than allow my upper hand to dissipate, I planted both feet against the grass and strapped both hands around Darius’s face.

A sizzling sound, like hamburger meat against a burner, rose from his face as he screamed and with one quick jerk threw me off him, knocking me seven feet backwards.

I scrambled to my feet and got into a fighting stance.

Darius stood up and pulled his hands from a face that showed deep black gulleys in his cheeks. He smiled, but winced as his facial muscles most likely stung. He clenched his teeth to avoid moving his face any longer than necessary. “That will not stop me.” The lamppost overhead shining down on his face revealed that his charred cheeks began to smooth and regain its natural shape, the dark hue growing paler with each passing second.

“I must admit,” Darius said, making his way toward me. “You won round one.” He looked at his contorted elbow and sighed as though its twisted nature was a minor inconvenience. Then he grabbed it with his free hand and turned it. A bone-chilling crack issued forth. “Congratulations are in order. It seems I underestimated you. I shall not repeat that mistake.”

His aloof manner and eerie tone set my nerves on edge. He conveyed complete confidence by walking leisurely toward me, as though killing me was a foregone conclusion. It made sense considering that, as an immortal being, he could spend the rest of his existence hunting me. And only killing him would prevent him from following through on his threat.

One problem made that a troubling endeavor: Darius had more abilities than I did, and he had a much better command over them than the two abilities that I possessed. Besides, I’d need to fall asleep to astral project, and even then, I’d only be able to project my spirit. Far from menacing!

It meant I could rely on my martial arts skills all day, but since Darius had greater stamina, not to mention quicker reflexes, he could continue battling me until he wore me down…or I made one small mistake. Then he would capitalize on it and kill me. My confidence dwindled.

Darius closed in, only five feet away now.

As panic made my chest tight, I felt heat surging through me. I raised both hands, hoping to shoot my adversary in the chest. But he grabbed my wrists, cinched them together, and twisted them. Rather than allow him to complete the maneuver, which would have snapped both wrist bones, my hands grew warm enough to scorch Darius’s wrists.

He didn’t let go, but the burning sensation melting his skin must have made it difficult for him to increase the pressure or break my wrists.

I used the temporary respite to kick his left kneecap. That bone snapped, making him stumble. Feeling him dragging me down while fear gripped me, I increased the heat in my hands.

Darius cringed and released me. He dropped to the grass.

I righted myself and directed both hands at Darius. Twin bolts of fire slammed into his chest, spreading fire across his body.

He squiggled side-to-side, crying out, before rolling quickly like a log zipping down a hill.

His swift actions left me sending flames into the grass.

Darius stamped out the flames thirty feet away from me, but plumes of smoke drifted off his clothes. His exposed arms, neck, and face were black and crinkly.

I glanced around, hoping to find a weapon that would allow me to kill him. I didn’t find any sharp, wooden objects that I could puncture his chest with. But I’d placed the Soul Sword in the trunk before leaving my home…just in case I needed it. If I could grab it quickly enough and return to Darius, I could lop off his head.

I’d parked my car across the street, fifty feet away from where I now stood. Rather than waste another moment, I bolted toward it. Now that I’d stopped concentrating, the warmth spreading throughout my system disappeared.

From the corner of my eye, I saw Darius place both hands against his kneecap and shove it back into place. He grinned at me with cheeks that had already half-healed, the cracked skin now ashen instead of pure black.

Depending on how quickly he healed, I might not even have a chance to get to the sword in time.

“Please don’t rush on my account,” Darius called out to me with a hint of joy in his voice. “I’ll attend to you momentarily.”

I ignored his arrogance and arrived at the trunk of my car. I yanked my key ring from my front pocket, found my car key starter and pressed the button that unlocked the trunk. It popped open. I glanced back at Darius.

Fifty feet away, he stood up. He let out a heavy sigh and smiled. “I hope you intend on handing over the Soul Sword.” He took a step forward, but his left kneecap buckled, preventing him from advancing toward me. His smile grew as he set his foot into the ground and rotated his knee.

It seemed that either he hadn’t re-set his knee as he’d thought or he’d actually done so, but it hadn’t completely healed yet.

“Please, no need to worry,” Darius said. “But I do appreciate your concern.”

Assuming he had full-range of motion in his damaged knee within the next few seconds, how long would it take him to close the distance between us? I pushed aside the blanket covering my acoustic guitar case (since our band spent all day yesterday rehearsing, I hadn’t any time to buy a sheath for it), and tried to unsnap the lock on the case, but I applied too much pressure. The knob cracked off, leaving me staring at the locked case. I risked a glance back at Darius.

He tested his knee, bending it in every direction. His smile indicated that it had completely recovered from the damage I’d caused.

I had two choices. Either I could jump in the car and speed away, or I could try to bust open the case…and hope that I opened it before he attacked me from behind, since my peripheral vision didn’t allow me the opportunity to work on the case while checking on Darius.

Fight or flight. I didn’t have time to think over the conundrum. So I slammed the trunk shut, ran over to the driver’s side door, whipped it open, hopped inside, and started the car.

Just as the engine turned, Darius had reached the driver’s side door. He reached through the open window and grabbed my neck.

I stomped on the accelerator. I’d hoped that the jolt in speed would have startled Darius and loosened his grasp around my neck. That hadn’t happened. In fact, his forearm slammed against the side of the window, jerking my neck in that direction. Thankfully, the force pushed my head backwards as well, so Darius’s grasp didn’t separate my neck from my head. However, it did press it against the headrest, and the strain between the pressure Darius applied and the speed with which I’d forced my car made my head bob in every direction.

I kept my eyes on the road, while barely catching sight of Darius; he ran alongside my vehicle with surprising speed, although he struggled to keep up. Since I didn’t have time to concentrate on calling upon another fistful of fire, I considered grabbing the lighter underneath the navigational system, but it would take time to burn bright, and if I didn’t heat up immediately. Darius might tear off my head. No other possibilities presented themselves, so I followed the logical path: I hit the window lever.

The window rose. But after a couple inches, Darius pressed his forearm down, preventing the window from continuing its ascent. So I slammed on the gas. My neck craned to the left, as Darius applied more pressure, but his face opposite me slid further back, as it became obvious that he couldn’t keep up with my car. I glanced at the speedometer: I’d just hit 40 mph!

Through the windshield, I saw that traveling twenty more yards would result in driving into someone’s driveway, meaning I had to turn left before that happened, otherwise, at my current speed, I would crash into a resident’s garage door.

I craned my neck to the left, which demanded plenty of control, since if I moved too quickly or too slowly, Darius would twist my head around and crack my neck.

“Still here,” Darius said with a smirk.

I didn’t respond and instead tramped down on the accelerator as hard as possible. As the vehicle hit 47 mph, Darius’s hold on my neck slackened. Straight ahead though, I needed to travel only ten more yards before the street curved into a perpendicular street, so I kept my foot down, now going past 50 mph.

Darius’s grasp fell away, springing my neck in the opposite direction. At that exact moment, I entered the next street, so I stomped on the brakes and swung the wheel to the left.

Darius’s body bashed against the side of the car before ricocheting into the street. The vehicle’s tires let out a shriek from such a swift turn, but once I evened out the vehicle, I hit the accelerator again and rocketed down the street. I glanced in the rearview mirror as pain sliced through my head.

About twenty yards behind me, Darius rose to his feet and watched my departure.

I turned the corner, putting more distance between us. I headed for home in serious need of placing an ice pack against the back of my neck and a good night of sleep. Tomorrow afternoon, I’d attempt to speak with a woman who could help me put an end to all of this torment. I just hoped she’d listen to what I had to say.