Death, Doom, and Detention

SHADOWS IN THE BASEMENT

“So, what do you think is really going on?” Brooke asked me as she took her turn to wash her face and get ready for bed. We’d left the boys downstairs on guard duty.

“I think there’s a stupid war coming and everybody thinks I am somehow going to stop it. How can we do anything without Jared?”

“That was amazingly brave what you did in the vault. Which, by the way—” She stepped out of the bathroom, her face white with soap. “—did you know that was an actual vault?”

“I had no idea.”

“And they made it for you.” Brooke shivered. “That’s just eerie.”

“We have to figure out what’s going on and we have to do it fast. And I think I might know who can help.”

Intrigued, she rinsed her face, then came back while drying it with a towel. “Who?”

“My grandpa Mac.”

“Grandpa Mac?” she asked.

I shrugged. “I had to call him something besides ‘paternal grandfather.’ But he grew up with this stuff.

He might know something we don’t.”

“If he is actually alive, he probably knows a lot of somethings we don’t.”

“Agreed.”

After I took my turn at guard duty while Cameron took a shower in my bathroom, Glitch, Brooklyn, and

I went back upstairs to review Plan A. Then we waited for everyone to go to bed.

“Okay, you ready?” I whispered to Brooke, cracking open my bedroom door.

“Yes, but I’m still not sure how we are going to get down to the basement without alarming Cameron or waking your grandfather. He is the lightest sleeper on planet Earth, as evidenced by the night we tried to sneak out your window to go to a frat party in Albuquerque.”

I cringed at the memory. “That was awful.”

“I was surprised at how red his face could get.”

“I know, right? But I sneaked out the other night and he didn’t know a thing about it. I think on that particular night, he knew we were up to something.”

Glitch snorted. “You guys are always up to something.”

With a chuckle, I led the way downstairs. Each step creaked. Each door squeaked. It was like we were living in a haunted house, it was so loud. I had never noticed before. But we managed to make it to the basement without anyone the wiser, including Cameron.

When we got to the basement steps that, I didn’t mind admitting, creeped me out, Glitch closed the door and turned on the single lightbulb overhead. The one that created more shadows than light.

“Okay, this is creepy,” Brooke said.

“Right? And my grandparents wonder what’s wrong with me. Why I don’t like going into the basement.

Have they even looked in their basement?”

“I don’t think it’s that bad.”

Like when the victim in a horror movie stalks slowly forward and opens a cabinet only to have a cat jump out at her, the three of us jumped about ten feet in the air. Brooklyn squealed and Glitch let loose a string of curses any tattoo artist would be proud of. And I knew enough to slap my hands over my mouth to suffocate a scream before it left my throat.

We turned in unison to Cameron, who stood behind us, casual as could be.

“What are you doing here?” Brooklyn asked, her hands over her chest as she tried to catch her breath.

“I wondered where you guys were sneaking off to, so I followed.”

“You heard us?”

“The entire neighborhood heard you.”

“Cameron, you can just admit it,” I said. “You like hanging out with us.”

“Can’t.”

Brooklyn frowned at him. “Why not?”

“You guys are weird. Bad for the rep.”

She scoffed. “You have to have a good rep to be worried about anything bad happening to it.”

“True. So, what are we doing?”

“Nothing,” I said, a little too fast and a little too aggressively.

His brows shot up. “Okay, count me in.”

Glitch sighed and walked down the stairs past us.

“Who’s watching Jared?” I asked.

“Your grandfather’s asleep in the recliner.”

“Poor guy,” Brooke said.

We crept down the eerie stairs and past jars of canned vegetables, an old typewriter that fascinated me as a child, and a box of collectible snow globes until we came to the shelf with an ancient trunk stuffed underneath. I knew from previous explorations that it contained my parents’ personal items. Things they had saved. Things of no importance to anyone but me. Every time I rummaged through the trunk, a nostalgic sense of pleasure washed over me. I knew what was inside. The dress I’d worn home from the hospital. My favorite blanket I’d practically eaten as a child. A teddy bear named Garth.

But I’d never paid much attention to the documents inside. They were mostly things like receipts and travel logs and such. And how could I forget the awards certificate for my Best of Show in Finger

Painting? The more important documents like birth and marriage certificates were kept upstairs in my grandma’s file cabinet. But these were from my dad’s personal effects. If there was anything about his father, surely it would be in here.

As I rummaged through the trunk, Cameron asked, “So, what are we doing again?”

“Nothing you’d be interested in,” Glitch said.

“Sure I would.” Cameron’s voice held a hint of humor. He seemed to love nothing more than baiting

Glitch. Then again, Glitch did start it. And yet he knew better than anyone what Cameron was capable of.

Glitch had gone crazy.

After practically emptying the chest, I came across a manila envelope I hadn’t noticed before. I opened it and thumbed through the papers inside. They weren’t my father’s but Mac McAlister’s. My grandfather’s. My pulse quickened.

“Oh,” Glitch said, reading over my shoulder. “I thought Mac was short for McAlister. But it was actually his name. Then it makes sense that they called him Mac.”

“Yeah.”

“Your grandfather on your dad’s side?” Cameron asked.

“Yep.”

Brooklyn pushed past Glitch to point at the paper I was holding. “What is that?”

“It’s a license of some kind. A pilot’s license. And here is a receipt with his name on it.”

“But there’s nothing here to indicate that he might still be alive,” she said.

“You think your paternal grandfather is still alive?” Cameron asked.

Crap. I didn’t want him to know why I thought that quite yet. My new ability was just that. Shiny and new. I wanted to explore it further before announcing it to the world. “I have my suspicions.”

“Why?”

Brooke and I looked at each other. At least, I was pretty sure it was Brooke. In the low light, it could have been Elvis.

“It’s a long story.” I stopped on the last page of documents and read. “But it’s what’s not here that’s interesting. These are my dad’s papers, but there’s no death certificate for my grandfather.”

“There’s not one for your grandmother either.”

“No, but there is an autopsy report.” I held up the paper for a better look and startled.

“What?” Brooklyn asked.

Cameron leaned down and saw it immediately. “Wow.”

“According to this report,” I said, my voice suddenly hoarse, “my grandmother died the day I was born.”

I took the contents of the envelope up to my room for a better look and to study the report. Cameron said he had to do a perimeter check, so we hurried upstairs to learn what we could while he was gone. I didn’t want to slip and say anything about the magic picture trick. Not just yet.

The description of my grandmother’s death made me ill. I had to stop reading because I thought I’d be sick. According to the report, my grandmother died while being tortured. And the report, while very cold and technical, listed the multiple lacerations and contusions consistent with a person suffering from traumatic physical abuse and/or torture, and it did so in great and explicit detail.

My stomach turned. Why would anyone torture her?

And crazy thing was, my grandparents knew.

“Do you think your grandmother’s death was what your parents were talking about when you were born?”

“No. I don’t. They said he was still alive. He. ”

“Lor,” Brooke said, placing a hand on my arm to draw me back to her, “do you think your grandfather killed your grandmother?”

“No!” Glitch shouted.

We jumped and turned to him. He was busy doing a search on my computer for my grandfather’s name.

“No, he didn’t,” he repeated. “But he is in prison for voluntary manslaughter.”

“What?” I practically flew across the room to get a good look at the screen. “He is alive?”

“Well, he was fourteen years ago. Okay,” Glitch said, semi-reading aloud, “‘Frustrated with the authorities’ reluctance to pursue an anonymous tip, Mac McAlister tracked down the people whom he believed had kidnapped his wife.’”

Brooke was glued to Glitch’s other side and even Cameron was vying for some space to see what was going on. She pointed to the screen farther down the article. “‘In the gunfight that ensued, McAlister killed…’ Oh my gosh, twelve people.”

“‘He was shot numerous times,’” Glitch continued, “‘yet continued to search for his wife when the firing ceased.’”

Brooke interrupted again. “‘After the smoke had settled, twelve people lay dead with McAlister not far behind, but a passing vehicle heard the gunfire and called the police.’”

Glitch read, “‘Authorities arrived on the scene to find several dead bodies and McAlister unconscious and barely breathing. He had his wife cradled in his arms. She had been dead for hours.’”

I covered my mouth with my hands, the image the article evoked so heartbreaking, so agonizing.

Brooke looked at me, searching my reaction, her eyes wet with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Lor.”

“‘One thing the investigators noted as an anomaly was that every member of the group that neighbors referred to as a cult was unusually tall,’” said Glitch.

Brooke jumped to read. “‘Unusually tall.’” She looked back at me. “Do you think they were descendants?”

“Maybe,” I said, still stuck on the image of my grandfather holding my grandmother’s dead body in his arms.

“If so, Lor, we need to bring this up to your grandparents.”

“Wait a minute,” Glitch said, reading on. “It happened in northern New Mexico. Your grandfather is in prison here.” He looked at me, stunned. “He’s been here this whole time.”

I awoke to the sound of my own labored breathing as I tried to catch my breath. Fire had consumed my lungs as they begged for air. With dry gasps, I fought to provide it. It was the usual, of course. And yet, the dynamics of the dream were changing. I was beginning to welcome the demon inside. To swallow him with pleasure, his presence both strange and familiar at once. The thought of the demon inside me becoming a welcomed guest disturbed me on several levels.

“You do that a lot,” Cameron said, straightening up from his perch on the window seat. I’d forgotten to turn off the lamp on my desk and I could see his shadowy figure clearly. His eyes were hooded with weariness, making him look like he’d just woken up, which was good. Maybe he’d actually slept.

“I know.” I placed a hand over my chest and tried to slow my breathing. “I’ve been having nightmares.”

“Me too. Mostly about short chicks ordering me around like they own the world.”

I couldn’t help but chuckle. “You can’t be talking about me. I hardly ever order you around, and I don’t own even an inch of this world.”

He grinned and cast a quick glance toward the bossy short chick who was blinking awake as we spoke.

“Are you awake?” Brooklyn asked me through a yawn.

“No.”

“Me neither. Did you get any sleep?”

“No.”

“Me neither. I am just so floored by everything,” she said, sitting up in her bed. She looked over at

Cameron as he sat on the window seat, gazing out the window.

I glanced at the digits glowing atop my nightstand. Three o’clock. In the morning. I didn’t even know three o’clock in the morning existed. I thought it was a myth. Like mermaids and snowballs in hell.

“You snore,” Cameron said to Brooke without turning around.

“Okay, I may have slept a little, but I don’t snore. And how can you just sit there all night without crashing?” she asked him.

He finally turned to her. “I slept a little too, but I don’t need as much sleep as you do.”

“Oh, right. I keep forgetting. Well, I’m okay now. It’s your turn for the bed. I’ll take watch.”

With a soft smile, he said, “I’d feel a bit safer with me on point, but thanks.”

“Suit yourself.”

A thought occurred to me as I sat hallucinating due to lack of oxygen in my dream. “I wonder how Mr.

Davis is doing after today. And the creature whose name shall not be spoken aloud.”

“No kidding,” Brooke said. With everything that had happened, those two must have slipped her mind as well. “What do you suppose he thinks?”

“Do we care?” Cameron asked.

I shrugged. “Sure. Well, about Mr. Davis anyway. But Tabitha did seem pretty freaked out.”

“Thank goodness her parents are with the Order,” Brooke said. “They’ll know how to help her, what to tell her.”

I nodded. “Right. She’s been through a lot.”

Brooklyn gaped at me.

“Well, you know, what with Jared making out with her, then trying to kill us all. But what about Mr.

Davis? He already suspects Jared.”

“Suspects him for what?” Cameron said. “For killing his brother a thousand years ago? Whoever that was would have aged. He can’t possibly know anything.”

Crossing my arms over my chest, I scrutinized him with a dubious expression. “You mean besides the fact that both you and Jared have superhuman abilities? He was there, Cameron. He saw what I saw.”

“His mind will create a scenario that’ll fit with his interpretation of events. Most likely, we were both on some mind-altering drug that gave us super strength.”

I had serious doubts it would be that easy this time, but who was I to argue?

“What is that sound?” Brooke asked, squinting into the darkness outside.

“It’s rain,” I said. “And wind. Again.” I sat up and placed my back against the headboard. “So, what is going on, Cameron? I mean, really? Too many strange things are happening at once. Like a convergence of bizarre activities.”

“I think it’s beginning.”

“What?” Brooke asked. “That war thing you guys keep talking about?”

My stomach lurched just thinking about it. I didn’t want a war. Especially not one that relied heavily on my abilities to stop it. Unless I could convince the invading army to stand still long enough for me to get a vision off it, we were toast. Whole wheat. Extra crunchy.

Then again, what good would a vision do us? I was no Joan of Arc, that was for sure. She may have led men into battle, but I was more of a “lead the school choir in a moving rendition of ‘One Hundred

Bottles of Beer on the Wall’” kind of girl.

“If you weren’t stuck guarding me,” I said to Cameron, “you could hunt down that new kid, Vincent, and find out what’s going on.”

“I don’t believe in that game,” he said.

I frowned. “What game?”

“The what-if game. There only is.”

“Okay, Mr. Miyagi,” Brooke said. She sank back into her blankets. “I still think you should get some rest and let me take point for a while.”

The expression on his face turned to one of horror. “And just what would you do if something happened? Moon the enemy?”

“What enemy, exactly?” I asked.

“What do you mean?”

I had a feeling he knew precisely what I was asking, but I humored him anyway. “I mean, you and

Jared keep watch all the time. For weeks now. Against what? What are we supposed to be on the lookout for?”

“Anything unusual.”

“Like, every single thing that has happened this week? Unusual like that?”

After drawing in a deep breath, he said, “Yeah. Pretty much.”

“And then what?” I asked, pushing for more intel. “You guys get to go do cool guy stuff while I sit here and be all protected, but from what, exactly? From whom? Don’t think I haven’t noticed how much my hours at the store have dropped. How often my grandparents send Brooke and me to the church to study the documents of the Order. Funny how there’s always someone there. Always someone on guard duty.

It’s suffocating.”

“What’s suffocating,” he said, turning to me with purpose, “is when your enemy has you by the throat and squeezes until the blood stops flowing to your brain, until your lungs feel like they are filled with acid because they can’t get oxygen, until your head feels like it’s going to explode.” He turned back to the window. “But, yeah, I can see where being protected would be suffocating.”

I ground my teeth. “That was uncalled for. I was just trying to make a point.”

“Well, then, I suggest you keep trying,” he said with a soft grin.

I burrowed under my covers again and glared at him. Brooke did the same.

“Glaring doesn’t really affect me, but you can keep at it if it makes you feel better.”

“I’m sorry I woke you up,” I said to him as my lids drifted down.

“You didn’t.” He looked out into the darkness. “Something else did.”