Sinister: A Paranormal Fantasy (Sinisters Book 1) (4 page)

“Why—” he swallowed the rest of his question as he realized he was alone. Somehow, Luke had left without a noise. A shiver ran down his spine as he stared at the spot that had been occupied only seconds before. With a shake of his head, he shoved himself away from the wall and headed to the normalcy of the school cafeteria.

Darkness settled overhead as Luke stepped into the void between realms. He could have walked, he supposed, but he was so accustomed to taking the void rather than more human means of transportation that he had stepped into it without thinking. He briefly emerged into the red lights and crackling of burning wood that was his office, then stepped back into the void to come out into Peter Caracalla's office.

A
thunk
sounded as Caracalla dropped a sheaf of papers onto his desk.

"Luke." His flat tone was less than welcoming.

Luke was amused by the man's irritation. Humans never learned patience in their brief lives, and the things they did could be so entertaining sometimes. "Good evening, Peter. How have you been?"

"Very well, since I stopped doing your dirty work. What do you want?" He refused to lift his eyes from the papers resting before him, flipping through the sheaf idly. Luke suspected he gathered not a single word from the pages.

"Come now, why dispense with the pleasantries? It has been years since we last met." He pulled out the upholstered chair opposite Peter, plopped down, and kicked his feet up on the desk. Peter's eyes followed their movement, but he said nothing. Luke smiled internally.

"Fine. To what do I owe the… pleasure of your company?" Peter picked up a pen and began crossing out lines with enough force to rip through the paper.

Luke dropped his feet from the desk and leaned forward, reaching a hand across the gap between the two. Peter leaned back slightly. It wasn't much, but it was enough to show Luke that the man was still afraid of him. He plucked a pistachio out of the bowl that rested on the black desk mat and popped it into his mouth.

"Mmm, delicious." He swallowed. "Do you intend to act as though you do not know why I am here?"

"I can guess, but I'm not a mind reader, Lucifer."

Luke raised an eyebrow at that but let it pass. It was true enough in the literal sense that Peter could not read minds. The statement reminded him of everything Caracalla was capable of doing, and his mood soured. Sometimes the things humans did were not entertaining at all. "I want you to stop."

"Stop what?" His tone was pleasant as he finally raised his eyes. "Doing your job? If you were better at it, I wouldn't need to."

It baffled Luke how humans, with only a handful of years in the world, believed that they could better manage something he had spent over a hundred thousand years carefully maintaining. They could not even seem to grasp what his job was precisely, and yet they thought they could do it. These attempts inevitably resulted in a large mess for him to clean up, and frankly, he was tired of it.

"I have been maintaining the balance since your people were living in caves and worshipping the sun," he said, his mild tone disguising his rising irritation.

Peter laughed harshly. "Oh, so you never make mistakes? Nothing slips by on your watch? Or did you intend to let Hitler murder 12 million people? That seems to have upset the balance. Not to mention the atomic bombs, China’s so-called ‘Great Leap Forward’...it's a wonder the world functions at all with someone like you keeping good and evil in check."

He clenched his fists. Those particular incidents were a large part of the reason his work was so critical right now. Hitler had been stopped, but it had taken years instead of the months he had originally intended. He had underestimated the manpower he would need to stop the Nazi regime, a mistake that had cost far more than he could afford. The bombs were still a source of frustration for him, but there was no accompanying guilt with those. Still, World War II had upset the balance enough to nearly cause the world to fall into chaos, resulting in things like the disaster in China, and the signs of recovery were only just beginning to show like new blossoms peeking through the snow. The incident seven years earlier had only made things worse. If Peter's new experiment was not stopped...

"Your meddling could permanently destroy the balance. Can you imagine the results if such a thing were to occur?"

Peter waved his words away with a casual flick of his wrist. "You say potato, I say potahto. I'm not upsetting the balance, I'm fixing it. I'm doing what you've never had the courage to do."

"It is not a matter of courage," Luke said stonily, dropping his casual facade. "My job is to watch over the balance and interfere only when absolutely necessary, not to meddle whenever I see fit. Courage is not taking control of people's lives, it is being strong enough to let them live their own." He narrowed his eyes as he added, "No matter how stupid what they do may be."

Peter scoffed. "Right. That's been working out so well."

He dropped his eyes back to the papers in front of him, signaling the end of his participation in the conversation. The clack of fingernails on a keyboard just outside the mahogany-and-leather office drummed out the beats between words. Luke reflected on how little this trip had accomplished, though in truth he had expected nothing else. Not for the first time, he considered how dangerous the powers granted to his humans could be. He may as well hand a firearm to a four year old and ask him not to pull the trigger.

"Thank you for your hospitality, Peter." He rose from his chair in one swift movement and turned toward the door. Halfway there, he paused and looked back over his shoulder. "I do wonder, though: if you do manage to achieve your goal, what will be left of the humans you strive to save?"

He stepped into the void before Caracalla had a chance to reply. As the familiar reddish glow of his office materialized around him, a weight in his left pocket caught his attention. He reached in a hand and stared in consternation at the necklaces he pulled out. There were two identical medallions hanging from thin black chains. Each medallion consisted of a blood-red stone the size of a thumbnail, wrapped in a silvery metal etched with runes so old no living person could read them. The metal changed colors as the necklaces twisted in the firelight, flashing every color of the rainbow. If he were human, he would have cursed. He had forgotten to give these to his newest recruits, making that his third mistake in a century.
Maybe Peter is right
, he reflected.
I truly am slipping.

His hand rested on cool stone as he poked his head out the doorway and listened. The low hum of voices reached his ears, but otherwise it was quiet. He had best deliver the medallions before he forgot again. There was no telling what trouble these two new sinisters would get into without them.

Coach Huebner’s whistle blew for the second time in as many minutes, the wind whipping the sound in circles around the field. “Reynolds! Get your head in the game!”

So far, soccer practice had been abysmal. For the first time he could remember, he was too distracted to play well. He’d spent the first ten minutes of scrimmage thinking about Luke’s words, rather than trying to steal the ball from Damien. The next ten had been occupied with chasing Damien as flashes of light distracted him. Damien represented, for Matt, everything that was wrong in the world. He was cocky and played selfishly, always trying to get the goal for himself rather than assisting his teammates. Worse, he was actually good, so Coach Huebner let him get away with his antics, even going so far as to give Damien the center midfield position that Matt wanted. Damien was a junior, so unless Matt could beat him out for the spot, he was stuck with him next year as well. With the way he’d played today, Matt might even get benched for the regionals match on Tuesday. He certainly wasn’t taking Damien’s spot.

He ground his teeth in frustration and threw himself back into the game. The scent of grass reached his nose as his cleats tore up the ground, still damp from the rain earlier that day. Alex passed the ball to Damien, and Matt raced to him, feeling as though the electricity from the brewing storm had charged him as well. He reached his nemesis and struck out with his foot, but Damien stopped the ball a split second before he reached it and changed directions, darting past on Matt’s right. Matt spun on his heel and chased, feeling the first drops of rain strike his skin. Unless lightning began to flash, they would keep playing.

Reaching Damien again, Matt snaked a foot between Damien’s legs and kicked the ball sideways. He kicked again, trying to gain possession of the ball. Damien shoved Matt to the left, his jutting elbow catching Matt just under the ribs and forcing his air out with a grunt. Ignoring the pain that lanced through his side with his next breath, Matt tapped the ball with his toes and moved it another foot from Damien. He reached for the ball, feeling the control as he rolled it behind him and whipped around. He was fast, too fast for Damien to turn, but Damien didn’t need to turn around to slide his leg between Matt’s feet. Matt’s right ankle crashed into Damien’s calf. He could see the scene play out in slow motion. Even as he tried to untangle his legs, he knew it was hopeless. He crashed to the ground. His right knee landed on something sharp, and he could almost hear the skin rip as the object pierced through it. Sweat beaded on Matt’s brow as he held in the scream of pain just behind his lips. It was a struggle to hold it in, but Matt would
not
let Damien hear him scream.

Floppy brown hair appeared in Matt’s line of vision, followed by Damien’s leering face. He blinked sweat and rain out of his eyes as Damien reached out a hand. Matt reluctantly gripped it. Damien began to haul him up, saying, “You know what your problem is, Matt? You’re weak. Weak physically, and weak mentally. You aren’t strong enough to take my spot, and you’re too busy worrying what everyone else thinks to even try. You’re not as good as me and never will be. Why don’t you just give up now?”

He dropped Matt’s hand before he regained his balance and walked away, causing Matt to reel backwards and nearly fall again.

“Reynolds! Stop picking daisies and get playing!” Coach yelled from the sidelines.

Matt balled his hands into fists as he glared at his opponent’s retreating back. He’d love to show Damien exactly how strong he was. Just...not today. Maybe tomorrow.

Ϯ

A strong gust of wind whipped through Matt’s blue windbreaker, chilling him. The weather was not the type that encouraged anyone to linger outside, and the sweat he’d generated during practice was rapidly cooling. With a glance at the leaden sky, he pulled his collar tighter around his neck and stepped off the curb. Luckily, he only had to walk five blocks to get home.

Matt shivered again as he walked into the falling night; winter was lurking just behind the next frost, though it seemed only days ago he was wearing a T-shirt and shorts to school. As he shuffled home in the twilight, the worries of soccer practice were replaced with Luke’s words playing on a loop in his head.
Your world will crumble around you if you do not fight back...

A car whizzed past him, splashing droplets of water from a nearby puddle onto the sidewalk in front of him. They hit the ground with a sound like glass breaking, and Matt stopped to stare. He’d taken all of these sights and sounds for granted, right up until this afternoon when his world started spinning a different way. While he thought Luke might be crazy, the man’s words were hard to forget, especially since he knew about the creatures Matt could now see.

There was some truth to Luke’s statements about the problems in the world, but there were always problems when there was more than one person somewhere. It was just inevitable. Even assuming there was something that could be done to help, it would be done by governments and the rare individuals like Mother Theresa, not by sixteen-year-old boys who still needed their moms to drive them everywhere.

Night had almost completely settled in now, and Matt picked up his pace, anxious to get home to familiar faces and the safety of his house.
You can't outrun words
, a traitorous corner of his mind whispered.

He turned right at the next intersection to walk up the hill on his street, counting his steps as he went. When he was younger he'd counted everywhere he went, measuring distances by the number of footprints he left behind. One hundred fifty steps up the hill, past the Waltons’ wrought-iron fence around their backyard and deck, where Mr. Walton was occasionally visible on warm days with a glass of iced tea in his hand. Today the deck was empty. Then four hundred steps down the hill, past the Hulses’ house, past the Nodlands’ house, and finally past the Biancos' house before he reached home.
Seventy-two...seventy-three...

Matt’s cell rang, startling in the silence. His fingers, dulled by the cold, struggled with the zipper of his pocket for a moment. The ringing continued, echoing through the quiet neighborhood.

“Hey, Dean,” he answered.

“Hey, man. A group of us are going to see
Non-Stop
; wanna come?” Dean never wasted time with pleasantries on phone calls.

“Sure,” Matt answered, relieved by the normal quest ion, a sign of his normal life. A movie sounded like a perfect distraction. “What time?”

“It starts at 7:05; we’ll meet at 6:45.”

“Ok, see you there.”

As he slid the phone back into his pocket, he felt a prickling sensation on the back of his neck. He looked up. Straight into the eyes of what looked like a saber-tooth tiger.

He froze, staring. The creature was a perfect replica of the illustrated versions he’d seen in his history textbooks in grade school. It was twice as big as a normal tiger, with long, curved fangs extending over its bottom lip. Its brown eyes stared straight into his hazel ones, and the look it gave him was anything but friendly.

Ok
, he told himself,
it’s just one of the invisible creatures. No need to panic. They haven’t come near you before.

The tiger bared its fangs, revealing that the teeth inside its mouth, though smaller, were every bit as sharp as the two outside. Logic went out the window. Matt ran. His footsteps pounded on the concrete as he fled the tiger. He could hear it padding behind him, each long stride taking it twice as far as Matt could step. He could feel its hot breath on his neck, and terror flooded his body. His legs pumped faster.

The tiger leapt.

It brushed past his right knee, and despite the lightness of its touch, he was unable to brace himself against the force of a 500-pound tiger. His knees buckled. He fell to the ground, barely catching himself before his face hit the pavement. Matt sprang up, sure the tiger was about to eat him.

Instead, the creature leapt again, this time landing on what looked like a shadow, though without the sun it was hard to imagine what could cast one. The tiger swiped at it, and a scream pierced the night.

Matt shook his head, trying to clear his ears. A shadow, screaming? Then again, that was hardly the strangest part about this encounter.

The tiger bent its nose to the ground and lifted its head a second later. Matt blinked fiercely. The shadow was draped limply in the tiger’s mouth. If he didn’t know better, he would have said the tiger looked smug. Then it trotted off and disappeared around the street corner.

Matt continued to stand where the creature had left him, his mind trying to process what it had just seen. Small creatures were one thing. An extinct tiger the size of a house was another. It had hit him, too. Whatever his dad might think, these definitely weren’t hallucinations. He was pretty sure hallucinations couldn’t touch you.

He felt a stinging in his palms and held them in front of his face. He was surprised to see that the skin had been scraped clean off. Blood dripped off his fingertips, leaving brilliant red splotches on the sidewalk. Bits of grit were buried in the flesh. He grimaced. His knees, too, were protesting, and when he looked down he saw he’d ripped through the jeans on both sides. The knees themselves were bright pink with his earlier injury a red stain on his flesh, but the skin had been protected by the fabric. He wiped his hands on his thighs, wincing as the raw skin chafed against the cotton.

“What happened?” a voice asked.

Matt jumped and looked wildly around. Luke stood beside him, his brow furrowed in concern. Whether it was real or faked, Matt didn’t know.

“Where did you come from?” he asked.

“Over there.” He gestured vaguely back toward the last intersection. “Why are you bleeding?”

Matt’s palms were burning like crazy now. He gritted his teeth against the pain and responded, “A tiger knocked me over on its way to attack a shadow.”

“What?” Luke sounded shocked, which surprised Matt. He knew the statement sounded crazy, but this was the same man who’d claimed God sent him to prevent evil. You’d think he’d have a little perspective.

“Yeah, it brushed past me and knocked me down.”

“It went after a shadow? You are quite certain?” Luke’s tone was urgent.

Matt nodded, and Luke’s frown deepened.

“What’s the problem?” he asked.

“It…” Luke trailed off. “The souls should not be out…”

“Souls?” he repeated. “You mean that shadow was a person’s soul?”

Luke didn’t answer. Matt hunched his shoulders against the cold and shivered.

“What—”

Luke interrupted with, “I came here for a reason.”

Matt frowned at him, irritated that the man wouldn’t answer his questions. He’d just nearly been eaten by a saber-tooth tiger, after all. He thought he deserved some answers.

Luke apparently didn’t agree. “Now that you have had some time to process what I said, I need to know if you will be joining the cause. So what do you say, Matt? Will you help me fight evil?”

Matt stared at the near-stranger. He couldn’t believe he was ignoring the attack that had just happened, and he wondered if this was the extent of information he could ever expect from the guy. Five hours was hardly enough time to process Luke’s announcement, too. Despite the strange instinct telling him that this stranger was telling the truth, his explanation didn't make logical sense. Then again, there wasn’t really a logical explanation for invisible birds and extinct animals appearing. In any case, he'd planned on sleeping before making any decisions. His mom always said every big decision required at least one night's rest.

“What was that animal?” he demanded.

Luke eyed him for a minute, and once again Matt got the uncomfortable feeling that he knew exactly what the boy was thinking. Then, to Matt’s surprise, he answered. “There are creatures of my world, just as there are of yours. Some exist for no particular purpose, but others have proven to be useful over the years. That—tiger—that appeared to you was one such creature. It is a retriever.”

His world. It would take some time to get used to the casual way Luke dropped bombshells like that. “So where are you from? And what did that thing retrieve?”

Luke gazed over the boy’s shoulder, and he had to resist the temptation to look behind him. Finally, he responded, “A soul.”

“Souls?” Matt repeated, eyebrows arching so high that they nearly disappeared into his hair. “As in, people’s souls? Or sole, one thing? Or someone who lives in the capital of South Korea?”

Luke stared at him blankly, a bemused expression on his face. Suddenly, he threw his head back and laughed so loudly Matt was surprised his neighbors didn’t come out to see what was causing the racket.

As Luke’s chuckles subsided, he said, “I think I shall enjoy working with you.”

Matt frowned. He’d been trying to annoy the man, not entertain him. His attempt didn’t seem to be working. He tried a different tack and waited with his arms crossed.

“I am from another realm,” he answered, a smile still painted across his face. It made him look much more human. “I will give you more information as it is needed, that I promise you. For now I simply need to know if you will assist me.”