Matt Archer: Redemption Part 23

"I thought so, too. Oh, and she said something about cookies and ice cream for dinner?"

"Yep, I have it all ready."

"Well, that'll be something after weeks of MREs."

Weird to have such a normal conversation with my old man, but I liked it. "Yeah. I want plenty of real food tomorrow, though. Like a metric ton's worth."

"Deal."

Five minutes later, we turned into my neighborhood and Penn pulled into my driveway. "Need help with anything?" she asked.

All the way home, I'd seen the strained, eager looks she and Will were giving each other. They only had two days to make up for lost time and needed to be rid of the third wheel. "Nah, I got it. You guys go on."

As soon as I made it to the front door, I made a show of waving, and they pulled away. I took a slow breath, drawing comfort from the familiar glow of my porch light. Home. I was finally home.

I had the key in the lock. I was right there.

And Mamie screamed.

Chapter Twenty-Seven.

I tossed the grocery bags into the bushes and shouldered my way through the front door. "Mamie!"

Brent, roaring like a bull. Plates and pots cras.h.i.+ng to the floor. They were in the kitchen.

A flash of light and something squealed-not human. I rounded the corner in the living room at top speed, cras.h.i.+ng into the side of the couch but fighting to stay upright.

Then Mamie screamed in pain and Brent snapped, "Get behind me!"

I yanked my knife from its sheath and barreled into the kitchen. Every light was on, casting an almost surgical glow to the room. I let out a cry that was part rage, part horror and skidded to a stop just inside the door.

Sage-colored ashes littered the kitchen floor and the smell of burned flesh and bone filled the air. Mamie stood behind Brent, backed up against the kitchen counter dividing the cooking area from the dining area. Her eyes glowed bright blue. My brother held a baseball bat, muscles flexed to rival the Hulk.

They were surrounded by a legion of dull green, long-limbed creatures with cruel pinched faces and snide smiles. The biggest one jerked its head at me. "Wielder's here. Make it quick."

Three of the demons came at me. I kicked the first one away and it collided with the other two. They tried to get up, but I was on them before they could. I skewered two with a couple of quick stabs, then slashed the third across the throat. As they fell, they disintegrated into dust like the stuff on the kitchen floor.

Brent roared again. Six demons advanced on him at once. He shoved Mamie around the counter while punching one of the creatures so hard, he broke its neck. As I waded through the crowd, cutting down demons as I went, two leapt at Brent's head. The baseball bat whistled through the air like a broadsword and both creatures were thrown into the kitchen window. The gla.s.s splintered on impact.

Good G.o.d. He was a total beast and he didn't even have a knife. I'd never seen anyone kill monsters hand-to-hand like that. Not anyone.

Not even me.

"She's hurt," Brent said, refocusing my attention on the fight. He moved into the s.p.a.ce between the wall and the counter to block the path to Mamie. "I got this. You find a way to get her out of here."

I glanced back at my sister. The blue light had dulled from her eyes and a trickle of blood dripped down her forehead. She seemed close to pa.s.sing out, like the kitchen counter was all that was holding her up. My rage flared and I sliced apart two demons in my path, but the room was still full of them. This would be a war of attrition.

Fighting my way through took all my concentration, but I knew Brent would hold the line until I got there. Demons were leaping at my face and trying to get behind me. From the grunts of exertion and the wet thunks of a baseball bat striking flesh, my brother sounded just as busy. The fight felt like it was taking hours, but it couldn't have been more than thirty seconds before Brent gasped in pain.

I looked up in time to see three demons vault the counter and surround Mamie. Two more ripped the baseball bat from Brent's hands. He punched and kicked at them, but one snuck in under his arm.

A spurt of red blood arced across the kitchen counter and Brent went down on a knee. I fought my way closer, but it was too late. My brother crashed to the kitchen floor, gasping like a fish out of water, bleeding heavily from a stomach wound. He turned his head to face me. "Stop ... them."

One of the demons laughed and made a show of licking its claws. Blood. It was licking blood from its claws. And it was laughing.

Something inside me snapped. With an animal growl, I finished the last few demons on my side of the kitchen, then launched over the counter to meet the monsters flanking Mamie. Tears rolled down her face and she shook her head.

The largest demon grabbed her arm and said, "Big one's finished. Keep the wielder busy."

Before I could attack, before I could do anything at all, Mamie and the creature disappeared. Just vanished.

The other two came at me, claws out and wicked fast. But I was crazy, a monster myself, and I tore them to pieces.

The pieces turned to ashes, and the kitchen was suddenly quiet. Shaking, I grabbed a kitchen towel and stumbled back to Brent. So much blood. It was everywhere, saturating his s.h.i.+rt, pooling on the floor.

I covered the worst of his wounds. "G.o.d. Oh, G.o.d. Stay with me."

"She was going to read ... something to us ... from that book ... said it was important ... but they came ... like they wanted to stop her," Brent wheezed. With each word, bright red blood bubbled from his mouth. More trickled through the towel to stain my fingers. "I tried ... I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," I whispered, pressing the towel tighter against his belly. I needed to call for help, but I couldn't let go or he'd bleed out. I forced the sobs that threatened to burst free of my chest down, deep into my gut. "It's mine. If I'd made it inside faster-"

He reached up and touched my face with two fingers. His blood was warm against my cheek. "No. It's his fault." He worked hard to draw in a breath. "That ... G.o.dd.a.m.n shadow. Make him ... pay for it. Make him ... bleed."

The front door opened and Mom called, "Kids? Dad and I are back! Why is there ice cream in the bushes?"

"Help!" I shouted. "Quick!"

Footsteps pounded through the house and Dad sprinted into the kitchen. He fell to his knees and slid across the tile floor, stopping next to Brent. After pus.h.i.+ng my hands away to look at the wound, his expression took on a cold, a.n.a.lytical glare that told me he'd locked his emotions away.

"More towels," he snapped.

Mom came in and stopped short with a cry. The sound of it, of horror strangled in her throat, shredded my insides.

I handed Dad every kitchen towel we had. In a calm voice, he said, "Dani, call 911."

Mom didn't move.

"Dani!" His bark could've cut through diamond and her eyes snapped to meet his. "Call 911."

She dumped her entire purse out on the kitchen table and found her phone. With shaking fingers she dialed and told the operator intruders had broken in and stabbed her son.

In the quiet after her call, we surrounded Brent. I knelt at his right, Dad at his left and Mom cradled his head in her lap.

"Dad?" Brent mumbled. His skin had gone pale and waxy and his eyes were dull. But he smiled at our father. "I'm glad you came home."

"Yeah, Buddy. Me, too," Dad said. "You rest, all right? Rest."

A tear trickled down the side of Brent's face. "Tried, Dad. They ... took her."

Dad laid a b.l.o.o.d.y hand on his shoulder. "We'll get her back." He fixed an ironclad glare on me. "Matt will bring her home."

"Yeah." Brent took a shallow breath. "I know he ... will."

I swallowed hard against the tide of bile rising in my throat. Everything was too bright and too dim and bloodstains and Mom's tears. G.o.d, why? Why this? Why now? I thought my brother's faith in me, here at the end, would break me into a thousand pieces.

"Baby," Mom whispered. "We love you. Hold on. Please."

"'Kay." His eyes fell shut. "Tired."

"You rest, son," Dad said. "We're so proud of you. I'm so proud of you."

Brent's eyelids fluttered open and he gave Dad a ghost of a smile.

Then he died, the smile still on his face.

Mom broke down, kissing his forehead and sobbing into his hair. His s.h.a.ggy, too long, always-a-mess hair.

My jaw shook with the effort of holding myself together. Dad reached out to close Brent's eyes. He bowed his head for a moment, then stood suddenly, hauling me up with him.

"Listen, and listen close," he said. "You cannot be here when the ambulance arrives. You have a mission somewhere else, and the police will be here soon, followed by the media. You don't have time to be held up by them, so go now, while you can. Call us once you've deployed."

I stared at him, frozen. "But he's ... I can't just leave!"

"You can and you will." Dad's tone told me there would be no arguing. "We promised him you'd find her. And you will. Now go." He gave me a shove toward the mudroom. "Go to Will's. Call Mike. Tell him ... " Now his voice broke. "Tell him you have to find my baby girl."

I stood there. "She might not be far away. Maybe we should-"

Dad's look of disbelief, combined with Tink's flat, She's not here, told me I was grasping for straws way outside the realm of any hope. Of course Mamie wouldn't be close. Finding her would take an army, which is exactly what Dad was telling me to do-to go muster my army.

I stumbled back, in a fog, almost blind with grief and rage. As I turned to leave, a folded piece of paper lying on the countertop caught my eye. A single, b.l.o.o.d.y thumbprint told me who left it there.

This was the second time Mamie thought to leave me a note as she was being kidnapped.

I crammed it into my pocket and ran to the garage.

Chapter Twenty-Eight.

I jumped into my car, cursing when it turned over twice before starting, and took off for Will's as an ambulance and three police cars turned onto my street. If they noticed me leaving the house they were racing toward, they didn't seem to care because none of them stopped or turned to follow.

I didn't remember the rest of the trip. Somehow, I ended up in Will's driveway, parked behind Penn's SUV. I staggered out of my car and went to his front door. I stood there for a minute, not sure what to do next.

A shadow moved past the window next to the door and Millicent peered out. "Mr. Matthew!" She flung the door open, her mouth working. "Dear Lord, honey, is that blood? What's happened?"

"Will," I said. "I need Will."

He was already on his way down the stairs, Penn in tow, when Millicent tugged me inside. He stopped short halfway when he saw me. "Sweet Jesus."

I sank down on the wooden floor inside the entry and put my hands over my head, rocking back and forth. My brother was dead. Dead, on my kitchen floor. If I'd been five minutes earlier. If I hadn't stopped for ice cream. If I'd run harder when I heard the scream.

If, if, if ...

A low moan escaped my throat. All my fault. It was all my fault-for dragging him into this mess, for not being there to protect my sister, for not stopping this war before it took a toll I couldn't bear. I shuddered. The blood on my hands wouldn't wash off. Not this time.

Penn sat down next to me, a tiny spark of warmth, and put her arms around my shoulders. She didn't ask any questions, just held me, and I knew I'd never forget this moment. The surreal feeling of being held together by a ninety-five pound girl.

Millicent and Will had a quiet conversation. She asked if she should call Mrs. Cruessan because maybe I needed a doctor. Will told her no.

Finally, she said, "I'm going to start the shower in the guest room, Matt. You sit with William while I do."

That was the first time she called me anything other than "Mr. Matthew." A testament to how bad I must look.

Will knelt in front of me. "Are you hurt?"

Numb, I shook my head, scared to say anything in case I lost it entirely.

He squeezed my shoulder. "Where'd the blood come from? Talk to me, man. What happened?"

"Brent's ... " I wanted to swallow it down, like Dad did, but the horror was sweeping me away. I pressed the heels of my hands to my eyes hoping it would stop the scenes replaying in my head. It didn't. "They weren't even alone for five minutes after Dad left, but there were Dark minions in my house when I got home. They kidnapped Mamie and killed Brent. He fought like a G.o.dd.a.m.n hero, but they still killed him and I couldn't stop it."

Penn gasped and Will stiffened next to me. When knuckles cracked, I raised my head to find my friend had become a nightmare. I'd seen him angry, I'd seen him in thrall to his knife. I'd seen him turn into a whirling dervish, dealing out death to monsters and sacks to quarterbacks.

But I'd never seen him murderous. Until now.

"We're going to kill them all. Every last one. Then p.i.s.s on them for good measure," he growled, his hands balled into tight fists. "But first, you need to go clean up, and I need to call in."

"I have to talk to Uncle Mike. I need to be the one to tell him." I scrubbed at my cheeks with my fingers, s.h.i.+vering when I realized all I was doing was painting my face with a mix of Brent's blood and my tears. "That's first."

Will nodded and helped me up, then half-carried me to the kitchen when my knees wobbled. He pushed me down on a stool near the island. "Stay here."

"I'm going to go make a call, too," Penn whispered. "You hang on, 'kay?"

I knew who she'd call.