Monstrous (Blood of Cain Book 1) Page 15

  Kev Kroger answered the door within moments.

  “Hey, Julia,” he said. Then, seeing me, he nodded. “Detective.”

  I felt Dekker’s glare, but kept my cool.

  “Mr. Kroger, can we have a word?”

  He nodded, a stunned look in his eyes. “I’m afraid you’ve caught me at a strange time again. My mother died.”

  “I know,” I said.

  “Sorry for your loss,” said Dekker.

  Julia squeezed Kev’s arm as she passed into the house. Dekker and I followed. The twins were in the living room, watching a program on the flatscreen. They turned to look at me, odd smiles spreading across their faces in unison.

  “Frankie Mourning,” I saw them mouth, before they turned back to the television. I realized they were watching a horror movie. A woman covered in blood was screaming and the twins looked at each other and giggled.

  “Maybe we’d better go in the kitchen,” said Kev, watching the girls darkly.

  We followed him into the small kitchen, sitting around a long rectangular pine table.

  “Anyone want a drink?” he said. “I’m having one.”

  He pulled a bottle of Southern Comfort out of a cupboard and, with shaking hands, poured a generous amount into a plastic cup and tipped the whole thing back in one swallow.

  “Kev,” said Julia. “I have to ask. Are you all right?”

  “No,” he said, pouring another cup out of the bottle and drinking it. “I am definitely not goddamn all right.”

  “Daddy, watch your mouth!” the twin with the short hair yelled from the living room, the twins then falling over in gales of laughter. Kev watched them from across the room, an odd look on his face.

  “We’d like to take the twins,” said Julia. “Just so you have time to recover. I’m not saying you’re–”

  “Yes!” said Kev, straightening, his eyes manic. “Yes, you take them. Take them both.” Realizing we were all staring at him, he shook his head. “They’re not right, Jules,” he said, his voice falling to a whisper. “I don’t know what happened, but those are not my daughters.”

  “You’re right,” I said.

  “What? I am?” He grasped the back of a kitchen chair, trying to keep upright. “Oh, thank God. I thought I was going crazy.”

  “You’re not crazy,” said Dekker.

  “Sorry, who are you?” said Kev.

  “My partner,” I said.

  “Oh, right. Okay. But what do the state police have to do with my kids?”

  Dekker was looking at me. I ignored him.

  “We’re in charge of the weird cases,” I said.

  “Like the X-Files?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just like that.”

  “What’s wrong with them?” he said, his whisper taking on a wavering quality, like he was about to start crying. Julia put a hand over his.

  “We’re going to find out,” said Julia. “Let us take the burden, Kevin. Give yourself time to grieve. Jesus knows you’ve had enough pain for one man. Job never had it so hard.”

  “You’re not going to hurt them, are you?” Kev asked me, his eyes going to Dekker and back to me again. “They’re still my girls. Don’t do anything to hurt them. I don’t think I could stand it if something happened to them, too. They’re all I have left.”

  “We’re going to do our best to help them,” said Julia. “I love Brianna and Kyra like family, Kev. I would never let anything happen to them.”

  Kev was silent for a moment, then his eyes teared up as he looked at Julia.

  “Did they kill her? Alyssa, I mean. Did they kill their own mother? Did they kill their granny?”

  “If they did,” I said, “it wasn’t them. Not really. We’re going to put them right. You have to trust us, Mr. Kroger.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, okay. You’re right. I trust you. Just do right by me, okay? Do right by my girls. They’re all I have now.”

  The girls didn’t say a word as we walked them out to my car. Dekker moved the passenger seat up and let them crawl into the back of the car. He looked at me.

  “What now?”

  “Take them somewhere to keep an eye on them, I guess,” I said.

  “We should take them to Bea’s house,” said Julia, and there was a blessed sureness in her voice. I was relieved to have someone else making decisions because I was officially in over my head. I had to admit to myself that I had no idea what was happening or why. There was a monster in a lake. It stole my sister’s body and pulled people in through the mirrors. The reflections said it was all my fault. My sister, long dead by my own hand, was a wraith. The wraiths claimed to be on my side.

  “Lead the way, Jules,” I said. She got in her truck.

  “Who’s Bea?” said Dekker.

  “Beatrice,” I said, opening the driver’s side door. “Old family friend.”

  “Beatrice the witch.”

  “Yep. Beatrice the witch.”

  The girls sat perfectly still in the back seat as we drove. Halfway there, one of them started laughing. Dekker glanced warily into the back then at me.

  “Frankie Mourning’s afraid of her own reflection,” said the girl. Her sister started in giggling. I looked up at the rear view mirror, which I’d wrapped in masking tape to block the reflection.

  “You should see your face!” said the girl with longer hair. I still didn’t know which was Brianna and which was Kyra. “Oh, but you can’t!”

  I looked at Dekker, who stared straight ahead, an unsettled look on his face. The girls hurled taunts the rest of the way.

  We got out of the car and Dekker came around and put a hand on my arm. “You look tired.”

  “Haven't slept in days,” I said. “It feels like years. Every time I shut my eyes, some creepy shit goes down. Or some bastard calls the police and we stay up all night waiting for them.”

  “Frankie, you need sleep.”

  “I can’t,” I said. “People are dying.”

  “And you want to be next?” Dekker’s voice was full of concern, and it irritated me. He didn’t know me. He hadn’t seen what I could do, not really. “The best way to get killed is to stop taking care of yourself.”

  “If I wanted a lecture, I’d talk to the wraiths,” I said, my voice harsher than I meant it to be. “Besides, I know pretty well the best ways to get killed.”

  “Sorry,” he said, dropping the hand. “I’m just worried.”

  “I know, but don’t be. I never asked for anyone to be worried about me.”

  “Because you’re invincible.”

  “No,” I said, exhaustion in my voice. “Because it would be a full-time job. And no one deserves that.”

  I looked down into the back seat where the girls were staring back at me, interested looks on their faces. I helped them out of the car, keeping a firm hold on either girl’s arm. The short-haired girl was staring at me as we walked toward the house, leaving Dekker back at the car. I glanced back to see him just leaning there, a sad look on his face.

  “I know your secret now,” said the girl.

  “Shut up.”

  She giggled.

  “What?” I said.

  “You love him. You can’t love anyone, you’re dead. Dead people don’t get love, they get their mouths filled with dirt and salt in their eyes.”

  “Just chock-full of sweetness, aren’t you?” I said.

  “We’re bavuah,” said the long-haired sister. “If no one thought bad things, we wouldn’t exist.”

  “Bavuah? What the fuck does that mean?”

  The front door opened and Beatrice came out with her shotgun in tow.

  “Don’t listen to her, Frankie,” she said, pointing the gun at each girl.

  “You think we can keep them from killing anyone?” I said.

  “Julia and I have this covered,” she said. “Come and see.” She narrowed her eyes at me. “Maybe you should stay in the doorway, though.”

  As I neared the threshold, Julia came out and took each girl by her
upper arm. “God has a reason for everything,” she said, leading them roughly into the house.

  “God wouldn’t take the time to spit on you,” said one of the girls, her innocent voice sending a chill down my spine. Bea held up her hand before I could go into the house. I was so tired my vision had started to go swimmy. I sighed and pushed my hair away from my face.

  “What are you doing?” I said, feeling angry. Maybe it was exhaustion, or hating myself for snapping at Dekker, or the stress of seeing two little girls spouting garbage out of their pretty mouths. The fact that a woman had killed herself in front of me only hours ago. The sheriff, Roo, the people in the bar. It was all jumbled up in my head, making my slow dead heart speed up to panic levels.

  “Calm yourself, girl,” said Bea, her voice low and authoritative. “None of us are the enemy, you understand? And none of it’s your fault. Not your sister, and not this. No matter what those soulless shits tell you, it’s not your fault.”

  I made my eyes focus on my friend, the shotgun held at her side. Slowly, I nodded, forcing myself to take a breath. “I’m sorry.”

  “Not you, Frankie. It’s all of this shit. That bible thumper Julia there?” she pointed the shotgun toward the house, “and that frustrated man out there,” she pointed toward Dekker, still leaning against the car, “they’re here because of you. Not me, not the girls, not Alyssa Kroger. No one ever did nothing about this before you came. You’re doing something about it, and you’re close, or they wouldn’t be pissed off. And they’ll do anything to get under your skin.”

  Dekker was looking up at us from the driveway. He started walking toward us.

  “That man, by the way,” Bea said, putting a rolled cigarette into her mouth, “he’s not playing around. I don’t know how you got him out here, girl, but he’s never going to leave. I can see it.”

  “How can you see that?” I said. She cracked a smile, her wrinkles creasing across her ancient face. “I just know.”

  “They said it’s going to get bad now,” I said.

  “What, it’s been a cake walk up to this point?”

  “They said everyone’s going to die.” Dekker stepped up onto the porch, an impassive look on his face. “They say they’re going to take everyone now.”

  “Well they haven’t taken me,” said Bea. “I’d like to see them try.” She looked at Dekker. “So you’re the man.”

  Dekker looked at me, then back to Bea. “I guess that’s anatomically correct.”

  “Don’t give me lip,” said Bea. “Frankie here is special. She’s mine. And she’s dumb as a post, even though she has a pretty face. So don’t let her get killed, you got that?”

  “Goddammit,” I said.

  Dekker was grinning at Beatrice. “I’ll do my best, ma’am.”

  “That ain’t good enough,” said Bea. “You protect her from herself. She takes the weight of the world on her shoulders, and don’t you forget it. If it gets too heavy, you got to take some of it on yourself. Because she ain’t never been one to give up on folks. Even when they very much deserve it.”

  Bea rounded on me. “And you, dummy.”

  “What?”

  “Don’t be hard on him, you hear me? You’re too much woman for most men.”

  “Great pep talk, Bea. I feel so much better.”

  “I’m a witch, not a cheerleader,” she said. “You need a wound wrapped, baby delivered, I’m wise as an owl. Right now, I’m your friend. And I tell you what I see. And what I see is that youth is wasted on the young. He’s cute.”

  I laughed and Dekker had tears in his eyes from holding it in.

  “Now, you,” she pointed at Dekker with the shotgun, “come and see what this is. Frankie, you wait at the door. Look, but don’t come in.”

  “Why?” I said.

  “Because I told you to!”

  “Fair enough.”

  Bea hobbled into the house and Dekker stood close next to me while he waited for her to get ahead.

  “I’m sorry,” I said under my breath.

  Dekker didn’t say a word, but reached out and squeezed my hand before following Bea into the house. The gesture was intimate, and I felt color rise in my cheeks. Blushing? What goddamn world was this?

  I stepped up to the doorway and stopped. I understood Bea’s instructions for me not to enter the cabin now.

  Julia had the girls lashed to a couple of kitchen chairs, where they wriggled and hissed from behind their bonds. Heavy rope held them tight, so big on their small bodies that it looked like they were being crushed by snakes. And surrounding them, forming a circle, were mirrors. I counted ten of them, full sized mirrors like the ones you keep in a bedroom, standing sentry like a group of guards.

  The girls seemed frightened of the mirrors and their hisses and cries weren’t directed at Bea or Julia or Dekker, but at the reflections they saw looking back at them. I remembered Lucy – or what had become of Lucy – smashing the mirrors in the bedroom and bathroom, screaming obscenities.

  Now, looking back at them through the looking glass, were their reflections. But I could tell, even from where I was standing, they were more than that. Their faces had a blue tint to their skin, and they were angry, beating on the glass from the other side, screaming silently.

  These were the real Kroger twins, the souls of the girls, their bodies stolen, their lives interrupted, perhaps forever. I watched Dekker looking at them. He looked from the girls tied to the chairs and back at their reflections, striding around the outside of the circle of mirrors, narrowed eyes taking in everything. He looked back at me. I didn’t have any words of comfort. He had no idea what he was getting into when he came after me. He wanted to do good, he wanted to make the world better. Granted, he wanted to do it by killing people, but it’s the thought that counts.

  “These bitches ain’t going nowhere,” said Bea, leaning against her shotgun like a cane.

  “Beatrice!” said Julia.

  “You’ve heard it all before, Julia. Just because you go to church doesn’t make you better. I live in my church.”

  “This little house?” said Julia.

  “No! The forest.”

  “Oh,” said Julia. “Well, don’t call the twins bitches.” She covered her mouth as she said the word and Bea cackled.

  “Ain’t so hard, is it?”

  Julia crossed herself.

  “Like I said,” said Bea, looking at me. “We got this. You go get some sleep, little Frankie. Let the old ladies handle this.”

  I nodded, mouthing a thank you at Beatrice. If she noticed, she ignored it. She swatted Dekker on the butt, startling him.

  “Go make her get some rest. Look at her, she’s a mess. And don’t go messing with her, either. Let her get some sleep.”

  “Jesus, Bea,” I said.

  “You heard the lady,” said Dekker uncertainly. “I guess.”

  As he came closer, I saw that he needed rest, too. Dark circles and a certain edgy hunger rimmed his eyes, a gauntness to his face that came from days of exhaustion. If we were going to be good for anything at all, we were going to need sleep.

  “Let me drive,” Dekker said, leaning close to me, the scent of him lingering in my nostrils.

  “You want to drive my car again?” I said.

  “We can take mine if you want,” he said. “But it’s a Datsun from about a hundred years ago. Might not get us there.”

  “Get us where?”

  “Well, Lucy’s burned down. Next town over has a motel. Thought we’d stay in the lap of luxury.”

  “The Real Western is not the Ritz,” I said.

  “For us?” he said, shrugging. “Probably the equivalent at this point.”

  I met his eyes, their depth surprising me like always.

  “You’re not going to get rid of me so easy, Mourning,” he whispered. “Give me your keys. You can’t even walk a straight line, you’re so tired.”

  I nodded. “Fine. You drive. But this is the last time.”

  “Noted.” />
  “Get a room, you two!” yelled Bea, cackling.

  “I’ll come check on you in the morning,” I said. “Don’t take any chances with these two. I’ve seen what these things can do.”

  “I know you have,” said Bea, her voice softened. “More than anyone should have to bear.” She looked pointedly at Dekker. I rolled my eyes.

  “And stay away from the mirrors yourselves,” I added. “They like to take over when you least expect it.”

  “Get out of here and get some sleep.”

  “Nice to meet you,” said Dekker cordially, waving.

  “Hope to see you again, boy,” said Bea.

  “That means she likes you,” I said.

  “Damn straight,” said Dekker. “I’m a catch.”

  I must have dozed off in the car because I blinked and we were already pulling into the parking lot of the Real Western, afternoon sunlight streaming into the car. Dekker pulled into a parking spot between a beat up RV and a shiny pickup truck with California plates. He cut the engine and looked at me.

  “Let me help you, Frankie.”

  “You can’t save me, Dekker,” I said, closing my eyes. I was so tired.

  “You’re killing yourself.”

  I met his eyes. “They don’t let me sleep. They wake me up, hiss things at me, threaten me with Hell. I’m a sinner, Dekker. This is my penance. I’m working towards my own salvation. It’s all fun and games for you, you’re still alive.”

  “Who wakes you?”

  “The wraiths. And maybe if we weren’t up all night waiting for your favorite sheriff, I’d be well-rested.”

  “Frankie, you’re alive, too,” he said, ignoring the bit about the sheriff. “You’re more alive than anyone I’ve ever known. You’re risking everything to stop this shit from happening. If you’re a sinner, then everyone is. Why listen to them?”

  “The wraiths?” I shook my head. “I don’t know. But they’re here, and they tell me things. Ways to save myself.”

  “What about your life, though?” he said. “Don’t you get to live with all this borrowed time?”