Blind Sight Page 15

  There was nothing more he could do to her. His threats fell on deaf ears. Taking her life would be a blessing. Uncle Case and Nathan were…well, she couldn’t think about that, not now. She had no idea where Quinn was. Her phone, which was lying with her knife on Corbett’s shelf of twisted treasures, had rung for hours, before falling ominously silent. The sicko had taken her gun for himself.

  Jordan was exhausted. She could no longer feel her arms, hands, legs, or feet. The back of her head pounded in time with her heart and it felt like someone had driven a tractor over her face. She also had to pee, and she could feel her internal Hoover Dam starting to crumble. If she didn’t take care of business soon, Corbett was going to have a nasty surprise to clean up when he came back. Her tongue was swollen and scraped roughly against the roof of her mouth. She had no more tears left to cry and her body felt as parched as a Georgia wheat field in mid-summer. She was so screwed.

  No matter how she tried to block them, vivid images of Case and Nathan torn to shreds like paper dolls obscured her vision, demanded her attention. She had no idea how she and Quinn would get along without them. Nathan was more than her brother. He was the closest thing to a best friend she’d ever had. She told him almost everything and he listened. He never made fun of her, not even when she was a little girl and begged him to check under her bed for monsters before she climbed inside – probably because he knew how real the monsters were. Her heart broke when she thought of Uncle Case. She and Quinn put him through so much -- never giving the man a moment’s peace when they occupied the same space for any length of time. She wished they’d buried the hatchet long before so Case could have enjoyed happier times. When her father dropped off the face of the planet, Case never once balked at taking them in. He jumped into fatherhood with both feet and kept them together, physically and mentally. If she asked for his opinion, he gave it freely, but he was also willing to sit back and let her make her own mistakes while he laughed behind his hand and took another pull on his beer. At least he’d never said ‘I told you so.’

  She heard a stealthy scraping sound at the door. As if shackled to a weight, Jordan could barely pull her head up to look. She blew her messy wind-and rain-blown hair out of her face and waited. Just when she was starting to believe she’d imagined the noise, it came again. She knew it wasn’t Corbett. He would have no need for covertness. Suddenly, there was the grinding noise of metal on metal and a loud pop. The door swung open to reveal Wendy, her face set in determination. The crowbar in her hands looked deadly.

  “Jordan! Oh, thank God!”

  Wendy almost tripped over her sneakers in her haste to get to her. Jordan shook her head at the girl running towards her with the point of the crowbar pressed against her chest. When Wendy reached her, relatively safe, Jordan’s first words were, “Please, don’t ever run with that in your hands again.” Her voice was hoarse from crying and lack of use, but Wendy heard her just fine. She burst into tears, gently touching her bruised and battered face.

  “Are you okay? Is anything broken? I told you that I should’ve come with you! I tried to call several times and when you never answered, I knew something had gone wrong. Goddam Corbett! I’ll kill him! Tell me what we need to do.”

  Jordan had never been so happy to hear someone rambling like Wendy was. Her friend, whom she’d barely known a day, had come for her – risked her own life to save her. If she had any tears left, Jordan would have cried. Every second counted now. Even if it was too late for Case and Nathan (and she wasn’t counting them out yet), she still had another brother to account for and now, a new friend who could also be a target.

  “Oh, my God -- your face!” Wendy touched where Corbett had backhanded her. Jordan flinched, then hissed as pain blossomed all the way from her eye to her chin.

  “Sorry!” Wendy cried. Her hands fluttered around like broken-winged birds as she resisted the urge to touch Jordan again. Instead, she broke down in tears, sobbing at Jordan’s feet.

  Jordan let her be for a moment. She knew she looked like Death and Wendy had probably never been this close to violence. She was scared. It was to be expected.

  To her surprise, the girl got herself together quickly. She stood up, wiping the last of her tears away and cleared her throat. “I need to get you out of this chair.” She began searching the room for something to cut through the tape. Ironically, the item she came back with was the athame from the altar. Carefully, she began sawing through the binds. It didn’t take long, as the dagger was wicked sharp. When the last scrap of tape holding Jordan to the chair was cleared away, she fell forward on the floor. Luckily, Wendy had the foresight to drop the knife and grab her before she could do any more damage to herself.

  “Thanks,” Jordan gasped as blood began to circulate through her extremities again and tiny invisible needles began working their way through her skin. Her almost-purple hands began to change color and Wendy briskly rubber her arms and legs to speed up the process.

  While they waited for Jordan to be able to stand on her own, she filled Wendy in on what happened.

  “He sent the monster after your family?” Wendy kept her voice level as she continued to rub Jordan’s hands, but her eyes betrayed the panic she felt.

  Jordan nodded. She could feel her legs again and the needles of pain were subsiding. “Help me stand up. We have to hurry.”

  Wendy grasped her hands and pulled. Once Jordan was on her feet, Wendy kept an arm around her waist until the wooziness passed. Jordan took a few steps. There were wobbly, but she felt a lot better now that she was moving.

  Wendy unslung a backpack off her shoulders that Jordan hadn’t noticed she was wearing. She unzipped it and pulled out a cold Vitamin Water, handing it to her. Jordan unscrewed the top and took tiny sips. When she was sure her stomach would accept the offering, she drank more deeply, slaking her thirst.

  “This is the best thing I’ve tasted in a long time,” she declared as Wendy smiled. Still sipping, she hobbled over to the book case where Corbett kept his treasures. She grabbed her phone and checked for messages. There were many texts from Quinn, plus missed phone calls from him and Wendy. The last message she received from her brother said that he was going to look for Case and Nathan, since they still hadn’t returned to the cabin. He also asked for her to call him ASAP. He had no idea what happened. She sent him a quick text to let him know she was okay and for him to meet her at the cabin in half an hour. She had news. No need to upset him when he could be behind the wheel of his car or in the vicinity of prying eyes. He’d find out soon enough.

  Because of the blacked-out windows, Jordan had no idea, in her hours of misery, exactly how much time had passed. She glanced at her phone and saw that the sun had been up for at least two hours. The Kongamato took its victims during the night. A lump of fear worked its way up her throat, but she swallowed it back down like a huge, bitter pill. She reminded herself that the creature’s victims up until that point had been inexperienced when it came to dealing with the supernatural. Her brother and uncle were experts. She prayed they were still alive. They had to be.

  “Wendy, look around for bag or something. We need to clear these shelves. Corbett doesn’t need to play with these anymore.”

  While Wendy searched the shed, Jordan grabbed her knife and Nathan’s car keys, then did some searching of her own. In the corner, covered in a layer of dust and cobwebs, she found a three-gallon container of gasoline. This would do just fine.

  Wendy scurried back with a battered army-green duffle bag. Without even asking, she went to the book case and began stuffing it with the items Corbett had collected from other people. Jordan went to the altar.

  She found a book of matches and stuffed them in her pocket. The gas sloshed in wide arcs as she splashed it over the alter, the shelves filled with mason jars of strange ingredients, the spell books…Wendy turned at the smell of gas, but never stopped in her work.

  Soon, the duffle bag was filled, the book case was empty, and they were ready for some
fresh air. Outside, Jordan expanded her lungs over and over, reveling in the bright sun. The storm was long gone and the surrounding woods were green and lush. She stank like a hobo and looked like she’d been in a fight with a sumo wrestler, but she was free.

  “Wendy, when you came in, did you see Nathan’s car?”

  Her friend nodded. “I’m parked beside it. I walked up to the house first and scoped it out. Corbett’s truck is the only one there. It seemed pretty quiet.”

  Jordan pulled the matches from her pocket. “Do you want to be here for this or would you rather head back to your car and haul ass?”

  Wendy adjusted her grip on the bulky duffle bag. Her face was resolute. “Burn it to the ground. I’m not going anywhere.”

  Jordan scraped the book of matches against a rock on the ground. More than half of them caught. She tossed the flaming square of cardboard into the shed towards the make-shift altar. The table went up in a whoosh and she smiled, satisfied that the ancient shed would be reduced to ashes before anyone could attend to it.

  Without a word, she and Wendy began to walk. Back at the cars, Jordan was happy to see that Corbett hadn’t broken any windows in order to obtain Nathan’s insurance card. He must have jimmied the lock with a clothes hanger or a steel rod.

  Inside the car, everything was a jumbled mess. Corbett had pulled items from the dash compartment with complete disregard, destroying what he deemed unimportant or flinging them aside. The interior was covered in shredded papers and broken CDs. At least he hadn’t been in the trunk where her brother was sure to have more weapons stored.

  Pissed, Jordan took the duffle bag from Wendy and stowed it in the back seat. When she finished, Wendy pointed to the sky. Dark billows of smoke spiraled above the trees. The wind, for the time being, was blowing it away from town, but someone would notice it sooner or later and come to investigate.

  “We have to go, now.”

  Wendy jogged around to the driver’s side of the rust-bucket she drove. “I’ll follow you.”

  Jordan didn’t have time to argue with her. She wanted Wendy to go back to her house and forget she’d seen any of this, but she knew her friend would put up a fuss; this was not the place to try and persuade her. Later, she thought, as soon as we’re safely away from here.

  She expected to see the campground swarming with police cars, search dogs, and volunteers. Instead, she was greeted with bikini-clad teens, men toting coolers and fishing rods, and exuberant children being chased by parents who were already fatigued -- and it wasn’t even noon yet. Obviously, no one knew that two more people had gone missing during the storm while they slept peacefully in their beds. Dammit, she had to find Quinn! She had to know what was going on.

  His car was nowhere to be seen when she pulled up at the cabin. Like a whipped dog, Jordan used the last of her reserves to climb the rotted steps to the porch. She wobbled to the screen door, Wendy on her heels.

  Inside, she longed for nothing more than a hot shower, painkillers, and a good meal from The Broken Yolk diner. Her mouth watered at the thought of Ruthy’s strong coffee and excellent biscuits smothered in jam. Immediately, she felt ashamed. How could she even think about food when Nathan and Case were missing?

  Jordan looked around the tiny cabin, searching for a note from Quinn or a clue as to where he’d gone after his last text to her. Wendy’s eyes widened at the weapons, strange books, and other paraphernalia lying about. Quinn must have cut out in a hurry if he left all this in plain sight. Jordan found nothing, but at least she knew where to look for Case and Nathan: the abandoned mine.

  From the refrigerator, she pulled out a couple of sodas, handing one to Wendy, who’d been quiet thus far. Jordan expected to be bombarded with questions as to the nature of her family’s occupation. Instead, Wendy took a sip of her drink and said, “You need to see a doctor.”

  The statement surprised her so much that Jordan burst out laughing. “After everything you’ve seen, that’s all you have to say?”

  Wendy chuckled. “I guess I’m getting used to the strange and unusual.” She grew somber as her eyes moved over Jordan’s disheveled appearance. “Your face is a mess. I bet it’s painful as hell.”

  Jordan gingerly probed her face with her fingers. It hurt, but not as bad as the super-sized lump on the back of her head. It had grown in size since she’d last explored it and she cried out in pain when her fingers lightly grazed over the back of her head.

  “You have blood in your hair,” Wendy said matter-of-factly.

  Jordan reached for a bottle of Ibuprofen on the kitchen counter. The pills would barely take the edge off of the pain, but they were better than nothing. She swallowed four with a swig of cola. “I don’t doubt it,” she replied to Wendy, who frowned, concerned for her well-being.

  Jordan headed for the bedroom, speaking over her shoulder as she walked. “Nothing’s broken. I’ll heal; trust me, I’ve had much worse.” Wendy looked doubtful as she followed.

  She peeled off her ruined shirt, silently thanking God that she hadn’t been stopped for speeding or having a broken tail light on her way back to the cabin. She turned to the age-spotted, full-length mirror hanging crookedly on the wall. The person staring back was unrecognizable.

  Half her face was swollen from Corbett’s blows -- multi-colored in hues of red, blue, and black. Her lip, too, was puffy, and the split in it barely scabbed. Dried blood covered her chin and trailed down her neck, reminding her of war paint. Her eyes drifted lower. So did Wendy’s.

  Looking embarrassed, Wendy cried, “What happened?”

  Jordan stared at the cut along the top of her breast. She shivered, remembering the athame as it sliced through her skin and the look of delight on Corbett’s face. Shaking her head, she said, “It’s just a scratch. Corbett got a little knife-happy.” Sure, she could blow it off, pretend it wasn’t a big deal, but the dried blood on her bra said differently. She had no idea he’d cut her so deeply.

  “Jordan…” Wendy’s voice shook along with her hand as she twirled her hair nervously around her finger.

  She forced a smile for her friend. “It’s fine, really. It doesn’t even hurt,” she lied. Jordan grabbed a clean t-shirt and a bra from her bag. “Be right back.”

  In the bathroom, she used a wet wash cloth to wipe away as much of the blood as she could, barely holding back moans of pain when she got to her breast and hair. She needed stitches. No, what she needed was for Gabe to come and heal her, but that was out of the question while Wendy was here.

  She placed a few Band-Aids on the cut before slipping on her clean bra and shirt. Yeah, she could imagine the look on the cop’s face if she had been stopped. Somehow, she didn’t think he’d buy that she fell down some stairs.

  Where was Quinn? Jordan stared at her broken face in the mirror and suddenly, it all became too much. The events of the previous night came rushing back and emotions escaped from the cage she’d locked them in, surfacing like a sea serpent from murky depths. She cried, turning the cold water tap on full blast to hide her wretched sobs.

  Where and how did it all go wrong? They’d been on hundreds of hunts, slaying creatures that most had never even heard of much less stood against and destroyed. They’d sustained injuries, sure, but nothing too severe. And yet, a teenaged boy with bad breath and low self-esteem had managed to do what no creature of Satan had. In less than twenty-four hours, he’d taken out half of her family. Her Nathan – gone. Uncle Case, who she thought would live forever – gone. Where is Quinn?

  She didn’t hear his wings, but felt a comforting hand on her shoulder and knew it was Gabe. She turned, leaning into his strong arms, not even caring that her cuts and bruises were singing Ave Maria. She was trying so hard to be strong for Wendy; it felt good to have someone else take the wheel for a while.

  Wendy! She pushed away from Gabe, holding a finger to her lips and then pointing at the door. He smiled at her pitiful pantomime. “It’s okay,” he declared in a voice that echoed through the bathroom
as if they were standing before the Grand Canyon. Jordan shushed him, sure that Wendy was now wondering how the hell a strange man had gotten into the bathroom with her.

  “Have you lost your ethereal mind?” she whispered harshly. “Why not just announce to Wendy that you’re an angel and let her try on your halo?”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. It was such a normal response. Jordan sometimes had to remind herself that he was no longer a mere human.

  “Don’t worry. Wendy’s taking a little nap right now. When she wakes up, she’ll only remember that she lay down on the bed and was tired.”

  Jordan had never seen him pull that trick before but there was no time to worry about it now. Before she could ask him any questions, Gabe ask one of his own.

  “I’ve been trying to reach you all night. Where were you?”

  She took a deep breath, fighting back the tears that threatened to overwhelm her again. She wished she could put the previous night out of her mind – forget it ever happened. That wouldn’t erase what happened to her family, though, and burying her head in the proverbial sand would help no one. Quickly, like swallowing bad-tasting medicine, she told Gabe about Corbett and her time in his shed. She ended by asking, “Do you have any idea where Quinn is?”

  “He went to the abandoned mine. The storm was too severe for him to stay out in it any longer, so he returned to the cabin earlier than planned. He borrowed another map from Buck while waiting for Casen and Nathan. That’s when he discovered the mine. After a while, when none of you had come back to the cabin, he began calling and sending messages.”

  Gabe shuffled his feet, not meeting her eyes. Jordan knew she didn’t want to hear this next part – she would sell her soul if Gabe would swallow the rest if his words and disappear -- so she was surprised to find herself grabbing the collar of his shirt and shaking him like a rag doll. “Where is my family, Gabe?”