Chapter Twelve
The old house lookedthe same. Well, the toys scattered across the hard-packed dirt yard were different, likely the prized possessions of grandchildren, but everything else was the same. Grass from the neighbor’s yard tried valiantly to invade the well-used space, giving a green border to the space. And his father was still fond of his weed-eater. The wood along the bottom of the stereotypical white-picket fence showed the damage.
“This place is stuck in time,” Kilian whispered. He expected to hear his siblings fighting over who got to use the house phone. His parents had been fanatical about keeping modern technology out of the hands of their children. They were fanatical on a lot of topics.
“Yeah, pretty much,” Stephen agreed. “So, how do we do this?”
Kilian didn’t want to run into his father or any nieces or nephews who might be in the house. His mother probably babysat a whole gaggle of her grandchildren. She had hated technology until it allowed her children to take jobs without leaving Blue River. Then she had worshipped it and pressured Kilian’s siblings to work online and stay close. Before Kilian’s injury and choice to become a vampire had divided him from the family, he had been treated to a regular litany of online jobs that would allow him to move home.
“The kitchen was always Mom’s domain. She never let the kids in there.” Kilian still didn’t know if she had wanted to protect children from knives or have one place in the house where she could have privacy. However, the back door was their best chance at catching his mother alone. He strolled down the quiet street, praying that no one recognized him.
The Army knew he was estranged from his family. Estranged. That was too mild a word. He was hated, despised even. They had tried to file a lawsuit to prevent Kilian from accepting the Army’s offer to have Silas sire him. And when that failed, they’d cut all ties. The Army would not expect him to come here for help. However, if Stephen had a limited number of destinations to choose from, the Army would put their hometown near the top of the search-list.
With luck, they would look to the trains that rumbled through town rather than Kilian’s family. After all, if Kilian’s mother turned him away, stowing away on a train would be their next best bet. They reached the end of the block and Kilian headed for the alley that divided the block in half. Century-old trees shaded the dirt and weed path defined by two tire ruts.
Stephen slipped his hand in Kilian’s and tangled their fingers. Tactically, Kilian should keep his distance. He was compromised, and he couldn’t ignore the potential threat the demon posed. However, he tightened his hold. He felt as if Stephen was his link to sanity and clung to him with a pathetic desperation.
The back of the house had a new shed, a huge thing with rakes and gardening tools hung on the side, but paint was still peeling from the west side and water stains highlighted gutter cracks. It was so normal. Birds chirped and dogs barked in the distance, both of which matched the white picket fence aesthetic of the neighborhood. However, dread built in Kilian’s guts. He had faced abandoned warehouses and underground lairs that worried him less.
“We don’t have to go in there,” Stephen whispered.
Kilian snorted. They didn’t, but it made tactical sense. Firming his resolve, he lifted the gate latch and headed into the back garden. Rows of tomatoes climbing their cages and berry bushes and vegetables lined the concrete walk. Like the kitchen, this was his mother’s domain. His mother ran the house and his father brought in the money. Given how traditional and rigid his parents were, he should have expected their rejection when he’d refused to fit their mold.
On the bright side, his mother had never sacrificed him to a demon. When Kilian raised his hand to knock, it felt wrong. He’d never knocked. When he’d come home from basic training, his mother had chided him for doing it. She said it made her feel like he was separating himself from the family.
At eighteen, Kilian had been such a little shit that he’d considered knocking anyway. But now he turned the knob, opening the door to a sun-drenched kitchen with lace curtains and hideous black appliances that clashed with the honey-brown cabinets.
His mother stood in front of the sink, the water running.
“Mom?”
She whirled around, a cigarette in her hand.
Kilian froze. She didn’t smoke.
She dunked the lit end under the running water before dropping the butt into the garbage. “Kilian?” Her voice had a tremor, and Kilian took a step forward.
“No!” his mother cried. She clutched the crucifix at her neck. “Out demon. In the name of Jesus Christ, I cast you out.”
Kilian suppressed a wince as the words sliced through him like a hot knife. For a moment, all he could focus on was the pain that ripped down his nerves. “I’m not a demon, Mom.”
The tremor in her voice grew more obvious. “I know better. My little boy is gone. Dead. Be gone, demon. Do not torment me with the image of the child I loved and lost.”
“Seriously?” Stephen asked from behind Kilian. “Does she seriously not know the difference between a supernatural and a demon?”
