everything? “Why, then, what’s so special about now?” She couldn’t keep the bitterness out of her tone as she looked at him through blurry eyes.
He rested his hand on her shoulder once more. “You are reaching your mid-twenties, which means you will become immortal soon.”
That did it. “Immortal!” She shrugged out of his grasp and renewed her efforts with the door. When that proved useless, she screamed, an ear-piercing, glass-shattering plea for help.
Someone would hear her, rescue her from this paranormal prison.
His eyes widened.
In disbelief? Did he not think she was serious about leaving this room?
Then she hit him, connecting with his jaw, forcing him to take a step back.
Only for a moment. His guard was down but it was enough for her to get out the door. Bounding down the stairwell, she hauled ass all the way through the front entrance. She didn’t have a car but she didn’t care, it was only two miles to her house anyway. She was in her bare feet, but as long as she kept to the blacktop, she should be fine.
Minutes later, she approached her house. The air left her lungs, her heart stopped beating in her chest . . . something was wrong. It was the ass crack of dawn, everyone should’ve been sleeping, yet the front door was open—a touch away from falling off its hinges.
She entered through the broken doorway and her blood ran cold in her veins. The furniture was overturned, ripped, broken beyond recognition. Claw marks marred the walls. A stench that was now all too familiar filled her senses, causing her limbs to go numb.
She moved further into the room. The television hung crooked—
That’s when she saw the blood splatter on the wall.
Moving the tree trunks she called legs as quickly as they would go, she searched for any sign of her family.
She spotted Maeve’s light brown hair feather on the wood floor and quickened her pace, stopping only when she saw the pool of blood. The full view of the destruction hit her frontal lobe like a Mack truck.
Maeve lay in the middle of the living room. Blood stained her clothes and skin.
In an instant, Ava was at her side. “Maeve!” She grabbed her wrist, seeking any sign of life. Lucas had said Maeve was immortal, so she had to be alive. “Maeve, can you look at me?”
Maeve moaned. The sweet sound met Ava’s ears, causing her to let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Joy seeped into her until she heard footsteps. Someone was coming.
She snatched a poker from the fireplace and readied herself, prepared for more of those demons, when Lucas strode through the door. He had changed his clothes in the short time since she’d seen him last. Through the shock, she registered that he now wore jeans, a black tee shirt, and leather jacket.
“Ava?” He moved toward her, his large shit kickers thumping over the wooden floor until he saw Maeve. The thumping turned rhythmic as he rushed to her side.
Ava continued to hold the poker. He’d allowed this to happen. He wasn’t any better than those demons. “Leave, Lucas, this doesn’t concern you.”
Maeve reached up her hand. “They took them,” she said in a near whisper. “Your sisters.”
Tears rushed to Ava’s eyes at her words. “Who took them, Maeve? She dropped the poker then knelt by her side, taking hold of her hand.
Maeve turned to Lucas, her eyes wild and wide with fear pain. “They took them. Please—” Gasping for breath, she paused. “They won’t stop till they have Ava. Save them.”
Lucas took hold of her other hand, gave a noticeable squeeze, then nodded. “I will. You have my word.”
“We have to get you to the hospital.” Ava brushed Maeve’s hair from her forehead. This woman had been like a mother to her.
“No, you must go . . .” Ava flinched as Maeve’s cough jarred her broken body. Regaining her breath, she gazed at Ava as if she’d memorize her features. “You must find Belinda Turner . . . she lives north of here. She can help
He rested his hand on her shoulder once more. “You are reaching your mid-twenties, which means you will become immortal soon.”
That did it. “Immortal!” She shrugged out of his grasp and renewed her efforts with the door. When that proved useless, she screamed, an ear-piercing, glass-shattering plea for help.
Someone would hear her, rescue her from this paranormal prison.
His eyes widened.
In disbelief? Did he not think she was serious about leaving this room?
Then she hit him, connecting with his jaw, forcing him to take a step back.
Only for a moment. His guard was down but it was enough for her to get out the door. Bounding down the stairwell, she hauled ass all the way through the front entrance. She didn’t have a car but she didn’t care, it was only two miles to her house anyway. She was in her bare feet, but as long as she kept to the blacktop, she should be fine.
Minutes later, she approached her house. The air left her lungs, her heart stopped beating in her chest . . . something was wrong. It was the ass crack of dawn, everyone should’ve been sleeping, yet the front door was open—a touch away from falling off its hinges.
She entered through the broken doorway and her blood ran cold in her veins. The furniture was overturned, ripped, broken beyond recognition. Claw marks marred the walls. A stench that was now all too familiar filled her senses, causing her limbs to go numb.
She moved further into the room. The television hung crooked—
That’s when she saw the blood splatter on the wall.
Moving the tree trunks she called legs as quickly as they would go, she searched for any sign of her family.
She spotted Maeve’s light brown hair feather on the wood floor and quickened her pace, stopping only when she saw the pool of blood. The full view of the destruction hit her frontal lobe like a Mack truck.
Maeve lay in the middle of the living room. Blood stained her clothes and skin.
In an instant, Ava was at her side. “Maeve!” She grabbed her wrist, seeking any sign of life. Lucas had said Maeve was immortal, so she had to be alive. “Maeve, can you look at me?”
Maeve moaned. The sweet sound met Ava’s ears, causing her to let out a breath she hadn’t known she was holding. Joy seeped into her until she heard footsteps. Someone was coming.
She snatched a poker from the fireplace and readied herself, prepared for more of those demons, when Lucas strode through the door. He had changed his clothes in the short time since she’d seen him last. Through the shock, she registered that he now wore jeans, a black tee shirt, and leather jacket.
“Ava?” He moved toward her, his large shit kickers thumping over the wooden floor until he saw Maeve. The thumping turned rhythmic as he rushed to her side.
Ava continued to hold the poker. He’d allowed this to happen. He wasn’t any better than those demons. “Leave, Lucas, this doesn’t concern you.”
Maeve reached up her hand. “They took them,” she said in a near whisper. “Your sisters.”
Tears rushed to Ava’s eyes at her words. “Who took them, Maeve? She dropped the poker then knelt by her side, taking hold of her hand.
Maeve turned to Lucas, her eyes wild and wide with fear pain. “They took them. Please—” Gasping for breath, she paused. “They won’t stop till they have Ava. Save them.”
Lucas took hold of her other hand, gave a noticeable squeeze, then nodded. “I will. You have my word.”
“We have to get you to the hospital.” Ava brushed Maeve’s hair from her forehead. This woman had been like a mother to her.
“No, you must go . . .” Ava flinched as Maeve’s cough jarred her broken body. Regaining her breath, she gazed at Ava as if she’d memorize her features. “You must find Belinda Turner . . . she lives north of here. She can help
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