I smiled. “See you tomorrow.”
“Okay . . . Amy?”
“Yes?”
“If you ever pull a stunt like that again I’m going to kill you myself.”
My smile grew. “Yeah, yeah, see you.” I hung up, feeling a hell of a lot better than I did before I called him. Light rain tapped on the window and drizzled down the pane. I pulled the curtains closed, turned on the lamp, and laid down on the bed, listening to the rain.
Maybe everything was going to turn out alright after all.
Chapter 43
The Gift
Iwoke to the beep of my phone. Blinking, trying to focus, I rubbed my eyes, fumbling across to the bedside table to grab my phone. I squinted at the bright screen, surprised to see it was 5:30 a.m. I wondered what time Karson returned home, it must’ve been extra late, if he even came home at all? Anxiety swept through my veins. Was he okay? Had he been hurt? I quickly dispelled the fear and told myself he’d be fine, if his supreme egotistical ideologies of his own abilities were any reflection of his actual skills.
There was a text from a number I didn’t recognize.
I clicked on it and stared down at the screen, the letters were still blurry. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust.
‘I have a surprise at the front door for you. D.’
I groaned, annoyed she’d sent the text so early and because she had my number. It was a new number, hardly anyone had it. What else had this girl found out about me? The thought was disturbing. I laid there for a long moment, debating whether to go down and look. It was probably something witchy. She was deluding herself if she thought she might suddenly change my mind and miraculously awaken some dormant powers. If I hadthose powers, I’d know and I would’ve used them long before now.
When I was about ten, I had the misfortune of ending up in a foster home run by Penny and Gerald Smyth. Gerald was a drunken bum. He enjoyed slamming his fists into my stomach, arm, or whatever limb I couldn’t get out of his way fast enough. I remembered one night hurtling down the corridor with him thundering after me in a blind rage. I locked the door. He’d bellowed and pounded on the door. It’d rattled so badly I was terrified he’d break through. I’d never been so scared. If I had powers, I would’ve used them then. Instead, I climbed out the second-floor window, scaled down the rickety latticework and fled into the night. I’d sheltered in an old shed by a playing field, in the freezing cold, until the cops found me the next day. One of them noticed the bruises, and I was taken to live with another family.
I sat the phone on the dresser, yawned and climbed groggily out of bed. I’d slept in last night’s clothes, my skirt was crumpled and my top looked like I’d been in a wrestling match. I didn’t have to look at my hair to know it was a mess, I could see it poking out from the sides of my head. I twisted my top back into place as I opened the door.
The hallway was coffin dark. I froze. For a moment, I had a feeling as chilling as a soothsayer’s reading. My blood ran cold, and the hairs rose on my skin. I flicked the bedroom light on. It spilled out into the hallway lighting the way just enough so I could see. I padded barefoot down the hall. I noticed with relief someone had left a few foyer wall lights on. I crept down the stairs with the stealth of a robber, clinging to the balustrade with one hand, so I could place my steps softly, trying not to wake anyone. If they made it home late, they’d be tired.
Suddenly I was hit with another blast of cold dread. What if this was some trick to get me out of the house? But that wassilly, the message was from Dahlia. I was just unsettled, who wouldn’t be unsettled, staying in a vampire’s house. And yet with each step I took, my feet began to slow and my heart thumped in my chest. I glanced around at the walls, the foyer lights glinted softly in the dark. The images on the paintings stared out, hazy as poltergeists in the night. I was safe here, Karson had assured me, hadn’t he? Yes, I reiterated.
Still. I paused at the front door, debating on whether to open it. A cold draft leaked from under the door frame and seemed to climb up my legs, like a rash, freezing everything as it went. My throat felt tight and dry. I was cold, yet hot at the same time.
“There’s nothing there,” I whispered, “just open the door, Amy, and prove it.” I reached out, pulled open the door and stepped onto the porch.
The first thing I noticed was the sun, it was just emerging and had not yet prevailed over the long shadows of night. It seemed to cast a bloody, eerie glow over the landscape. I shivered and wrapped my arms around my waist. The air was crisp, and the ground was damp, the scent of wet grass and roses lingered in the air. Karson’s car was back, so he was here, somewhere. There was nothing on the steps, but there was something pale-colored on the ground in the driveway. I edged down the stairs. Was it a rug? Had she brought me some magical carpet—could she sail on it like Aladdin? Perhaps modern witches didn’t fly on brooms but carpets these days? I smiled wryly at the thought. I took a few more steps, squinting into the faint light.
It was cream—not a rug, a teddy. A giant one.
I took another step. Shock and horror roared up my spine and froze my legs, mind and lungs. The depletion of air forced tears to invade my eyes. It took a moment for my brain to comprehend what I was seeing.
Not a teddy. A dog. A golden retriever. Or what was left of it anyway.
The dog’s head was smashed in, like someone had hit it with a sledgehammer. The force had left a grotesque, cavernous hole in his skull and completely crushed his eye socket. I could see bits of bone and flesh through the broken skin, like cracked teeth. His jaw was open, like he’d cried out on his last breath. The dog’s coat was caked in blood. His stomach had been slashed open. A deep gash, travelled from below the rib cage, stopping just before his undercarriage. There was blood everywhere. It oozed from the tear and swelled out onto the ground in a large pool, crawling forward sluggishly, turning everything a demonic red. Steaming entrails hung out like raw sausages. His liver, bright red and perfectly formed, lay detached a meter away. Someone had ripped it out and tossed it to the side like trash.
The raw, sickening smell of meat and blood enveloped the air and clogged my throat. A cry uttered from my throat. I felt dizzy. A sea of dark red and gray wavered before me.
The dog had been mutilated.
Strong hands wrapped around my waist hoisting me up and away. Stricken, I turned to Karson. He pulled me into his strong, muscled arms and cradled my head to his chest.
The stench of death clung like bat claws to my nostrils, my stomach rolled. “I’m going to be sick,” I murmured. I pivoted and ran towards the garden and retched, bile scorched up my throat and my head boomed against my skull.
“Monique!” Karson roared with such intensity it catapulted my body upright in fright. I forgot about the nausea and spun to see Karson with his hands around her neck. He had her hard up against the pillars of the house. “What did you do?”
Monique looked suitably terrified, her eyes wide and glassy. “What—nothing, it wasn’t, I didn’t?—”
