Deadrise (Book 3): Savage Blood Read online

  Just a few more days, she reminded herself as she stepped down into the yard into a swirl of fallen leaves. There was no sense in having it out with Mead now. Still, she stood there for a while, with her head bowed and her eyes closed, her whole being throbbing with the effort that it took to keep it all in.

  She drew in a deep, calming breath and released it in a slow sigh. Only a few more days and then freedom. A new beginning for her and Elan. Far away from Mead Landis and his constant complaining. His constant criticism. His constant abuse.

  She walked down the driveway, glancing back once to make sure that Mead had not followed her. Not that she expected it, but she wanted to make sure that she was alone.

  At the end of the driveway, she wrapped her arms around her waist and looked up at the seething sky. She had long grown tired of being a casualty in this battleground they called a marriage. Not that she called it a marriage anymore. Nor did she call what they shared love by any stretch of the imagination. Not even remotely. In the beginning Mead had said and done all the right things. He had worked hard at convincing her that he was someone he was not. She had let herself believe him when he had promised her that he would give her a better life, and that he would work hard to be the father that Elan deserved. But that was a long time ago. That was a lot of lies ago.

  The wind gusted and tossed the loose ends of her hair. When every day of your life was spent in a war zone, you learned to be battle hardened. You learned to constantly watch out for the land mines when there were more land mines than safe places to step. She understood very well that if the war went on long enough, there was always the danger of becoming as callous and as brutal as your enemy. She understood, too, that there was always the danger of losing little pieces of yourself until that same enemy stole your life and buried it under a sentence of mindless, hopeless submission. She’d been through this before.

  This was her second attempt at a marriage. She was called back through the years to the period in her life when Reeve, too, had tried to define her by his own darkness. It had been a long, hard battle to win. Maybe an impossible one. Time passed. Years. And eventually, the question had ceased to be: Will I let him do this to me? It had changed to: He did do this.

  God, how could this have happened to her again? How had things gone so far? How had they gone on so long? It was senseless to have expected so little for herself and for Elan. It was a sinful waste of all those years.

  The thought of all those lost years sickened her. When she looked back, how sad and pathetic it all seemed. How pointless. She had lived through a virtual war then, too. And who had won? No one. They had all lost. And it was even worse for Elan. Reeve had been a sorry excuse for a husband, but he was an even worse father, too self-absorbed to think of anyone but himself. And now she could have kicked herself for pointing out how absent he had been from Elan’s life last week when they had talked. She should have kept quiet because now Reeve felt compelled to prove her wrong. He was coming to visit Elan, which was going to be nothing less than an exhausting strain on everyone. As if she didn’t have enough to think about, she had to try and keep Reeve and Mead from running into each other. It was going to be an impossibly stressful weekend.

  Why had it taken so long for her to accept that things could never be right or fair or honest with either one of her husbands? That nothing would ever change? And when had she begun to believe that she was an object not worthy of dignity or peace, devoid of feelings and emotions, devoid of rights or any humanness. Devoid of soul? Long before Reeve and Mead? Before her own parents’ failed marriage had left its own scars?

  She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and realized how she had come to hate herself for needing something neither of her husbands could give. Still, if nothing else, she had learned a great deal. She saw the truth of abuse very clearly now and she couldn’t pretend that she didn’t. Abusers used different disguises and different approaches. They came in varied forms but their purpose remained the same. They were driven by an obsession, a blindness, a destructive need to possess, to have a victim.

  But she wasn’t going to be a victim again. Two years was long enough to realize that she’d made another mistake. Mead was dead to her. He had been for a long time, and he alone was responsible for killing anything good that might have been between them because the truth was that Mead was just another version of Reeve. He was mean down to his soul. For one reason only. Because he wanted to be that way.

  “I am leaving your sickness behind me, Mead,” Aili whispered, letting her words be carried by the wind.

  She would be strong. She would start a new life. Sheer determination would make it happen. She not only had to take care of herself. She had to take care of Elan, too. If anything happened to her, Elan would be alone. If the abuse had been wearing her down, she knew that it was worse for her son. It hadn’t taken long for Mead to show his true colors, to show that he was petty and jealous and resentful of her son until he had made Elan his victim, too.

  But that was about to end. She couldn’t undo the past, but she could change the future. She would go someplace where Mead would never find her. They would settle in another town far away from Pleasant Valley. It didn’t matter where they went. As long as they were together. She would start a new life with Elan. A better life. And somehow make up for all these hard years. They had each other. It would be enough.

  She should have brought her phone with her and tried calling Elan again. She had been calling him all day. He had left early that morning and he hadn’t said where she was going or when he’d be back. Now it was almost dark and Aili was getting worried. It wasn’t unusual for him to stay away on the weekends, but he should have at least picked up his phone. With everything going on, she wanted him home. She wanted to know that he was safe.

  Through an opening in the trees, she caught a glimpse of Vedra Minegar’s house half a block away. The house was dark, which was unusual. Without fail, Vedra had her porch light on at five o’clock sharp and she would sit there with her cat, Mango, on her lap. But there was no light there now. And no sign of Vedra.

  Vedra was an elderly widow who lived alone. If something had happened to her, no one would know. Aili decided she would go over after dinner and check on her.

  She pushed her wind-blown hair back from her face and went still when she heard the sharp, prolonged screech of an animal echoing from far down in the hollow. Deep woods surrounded the house and there was always an abundance of wildlife. While it might be nice to wake up and see deer in the yard, sometimes, some of the other smaller creatures occasionally became a nuisance. Especially when they were looking for an easy meal. Whatever had made the sound had gone silent again. It had been unlike anything Aili had ever heard before. It was almost- human.

  It set off a knot of apprehension deep in her stomach. She felt a growing sense of foreboding. For some reason, it felt like not only the storm clouds, but some kind of darkness was reaching its shadow over everything. Maybe it was everything she’d heard on the news that day. Maybe it was dealing with Mead and the dreaded weekend looming ahead. She stared at the woods for a while longer, but heard no further sounds.

  Only a few more days, she reminded herself as she turned back towards the house and heard the first crack of thunder as she walked back up the driveway. Her gaze was drawn upward, but it took her a few moments to register what she was seeing. It was a military drone, big, black and almost sinister-looking. It slowly glided overhead and then drifted silently away.

  Another bad sign, she thought as she stepped up onto the back porch and heard the TV. The news was still on.

  “ . . . a double homicide reported at Bedlow’s Bakery in Pleasant Valley . The bakery, owned by Ina and Olen Bedlow, has been the scene of a gruesome murder. A mutilated body was found . . . ”

  Bedlow’s Bakery? Mutilated body?

  “Are you going to stand there staring at the TV all night, or are you going to get dinner on the table?”

  Aili looked at Mead
who was standing in front of the TV himself.

  “Curfews won’t stop ‘em,” he said as he stared at the TV screen. “And if there are enough of them, the cops won’t stop them, either.”

  The news about the bakery had stunned her. She had shopped there many times. But she realized Mead wasn’t talking about the bakery. He was talking about looters. “They’ll come out at night,” he predicted darkly. “They always do. You do dirty work, you hide in the shadows.”

  He didn’t have anything to say about the bakery. He sat down at the table, picked up his fork and held it poised over the plate of chicken that Aili set in front of him.

  “What will we do if some kind of trouble does come here?” she asked, even though she knew better.

  “A small town like this?” She stared at Mead’s gone-still profile as he turned his face to listen to more sirens. But he suddenly brushed it all aside and stabbed a piece of chicken with his fork. “There aren’t enough people to put together a good riot in this town.”

  Aili hoped that he was right. She was anything but reassured, however, when they started talking about Bedlow’s Bakery again.

  “The names of the victims are being withheld pending notification . . . ”

  Victims? There had been more than one?

  Static temporarily interrupted both the picture and the sound. And then-

  “Police are trying to identify the perpetrators of these savage crimes and track them down. If anyone has any information, please contact the Pleasant Valley Police Department. Until the killers are apprehended, people are being advised to stay indoors whenever possible. We repeat, do not leave your homes if you can avoid it. The public is being asked to report anything suspicious . . . ”

  No doubt the murders in the bakery would be the most shocking crimes to ever hit Pleasant Valley. Aili didn’t recall hearing about any kind of murder whatsoever in the entire history of the town. Ever. Rumors would be spreading like wildfire. Everyone knew each other, and people would wonder not only who the victims were, but if a stranger was responsible, or if it was one of their own, and if the killer, or killers, would strike again.

  But that was not the end of the bad news.

  “Breaking news. A string of murders in Whitehall County. We are getting reports that mutilated corpses have been discovered at several local businesses. Whether this is the work of one individual or a group has not yet been established. Or whether it is tied in somehow with . . . ”

  Aili’s phone rang. A minute later, she lowered the phone and stared blankly at Mead.

  “Who was that?” he wanted to know.

  “It was Eula Daub. They think Eldred Gant might have been one of the victims at the bakery.”

  Eldred Gant was another one of their elderly neighbors.

  “They think it was? They can’t tell?”

  Aili shook her head. “The line went dead.”

  Despite her efforts to remain calm, Aili’s fear was mounting. Elan was out there somewhere. Why wasn’t he answering his phone?

  “No, they- ” she began.

  Her words were cut off by a powerful rush of wind that rattled the windows of the old house. The lights flickered as lightning struck something nearby. Thunder shook the very foundation of the house. Big raindrops splattered against the kitchen windows.

  “They can’t tell,” Aili said as she quickly left the kitchen and hurried from room to room closing windows.

  “I think I should go check on Vedra,” she said when she returned to the kitchen.

  “Who the hell cares about Vedra Minegar?” Mead said around a mouth full of chicken. He picked up his second can of beer. “She’s nothing but a cranky old bitch who can’t mind her own business or keep her cat in her own damned yard.”

  Mead had never liked Vedra, and Vedra didn’t like Mead, either. She didn’t go out of her way to hide it. Their feud over the cat had been going on for a long time.

  “Her lights still aren’t on. I’m worried about her. I- ”

  Mead cut her off before she could say anything more. “You stay here. I don’t want you going out in this storm. And as for that son of yours, if he can’t come home at a decent hour, he’d better not come home at all.”

  Aili’s hands were clenched into fists on either side of her plate. She didn’t care what Mead said. After dinner, she would check on Vedra, and then she would go find Elan. And after that? Maybe they would get in the car and leave tonight after Mead drank himself into his usual weekend stupor. By tomorrow they could be miles away.

  She looked up suddenly. From the corner of her eye, she thought she saw a shadow moving across the window. She stared at the window but nothing else moved. Maybe she had imagined it. Or maybe the lightning was playing tricks with her eyes.

  “Aren’t you going to eat?” Mead asked her.

  She picked up her fork. She didn’t have an appetite, but after the first mouthful, she managed another.

  Halfway through dinner, a silent one, Mead looked up from his plate and asked, “What is that?”

  Through narrowed eyes, he scowled at the back door. “I told that old witch a million times to keep her cat out of my yard.”

  The scratching sounds were very faint against the backdrop of the storm. If Mango really was scratching at the door, he’d soon give up and go away. But Aili’s nerves were already on edge, and she jumped when there was a heavy thud against the door.

  “That damned cat probably smells the food and is trying to get in here,” Mead growled.

  “I’ll go see- ” Aili began. Who knew what Mead would do to Mango. Mead was hardly an animal lover. And one thing that enraged Mead more than anything else was a torn screen. One that he would have to fix himself.

  “You sit down,” Mead ordered her as he slammed his fork down on the table. “I’ll take care of this myself, once and for all.”

  Aili worried that he was going to be brutal with the cat. He wouldn’t tolerate interference on her part, of course. It would just make him angrier. Still, she couldn’t stand by and do nothing. She got up from her chair.

  Something solid and heavy, heavier than a cat, hit the door again. Mead was muttering through clenched teeth now. A string of vile profanities, a last oath that was almost drowned out by a wind-blown sheet of rain that hissed against the kitchen window.

  Mead stalked over to the back door and jerked it open, intending to confront the offending feline.

  Only it wasn’t Mango. It wasn’t a cat at all. Although the strangled cry that Mead made deep in his throat as he crashed into the wall behind him had a definite cat-like quality to it.

  There was no warning. Not a single meow, hungry or otherwise. One moment Mead was standing in the open doorway, the next he was propelled backward like a leaf in a windstorm. Something big and dark followed him in. There was a vicious snarling and a spray of blood that splattered in a long arc on the wall. Whether it was Mead’s blood or not, Aili couldn’t tell.

  “Do something,” she heard Mead scream.

  Startled by the unexpected attack, Aili’s breath got caught in her chest, then it rushed out of her lungs again in a startled gasp as Mead started grappling awkwardly with the intruder. In the light from the porch, Aili noticed the smallest details, like how the rain was pouring down over the edge of the porch where the gutter always leaked. And how a big spider was dangling in a huge web right above the door.

  Mead’s dripping-wet attacker had the form of a man, but he was acting more like a wild beast. The savage growls terrified her. The ferocity of the attack was even more frightening.

  Mead was struggling to get to his feet. At the same time, he was trying to protect himself from wildly-swinging arms. Aili saw Mead’s head snap back. She heard the resonating thunk as his skull hit the wall behind him. Mead crumpled to the floor and lay there in a moaning heap.

  While Aili stood there trying to make sense out of what was happening before her, the intruder suddenly swung around. His head was still lowered as he eyed her with a lo
ok that was pure murder. Mead was quiet now and he wasn’t moving. The only reason she wasn’t screaming was because she was too terrified to get the sound out of her lungs.

  She didn’t have time to think of any kind of action, defensive or otherwise, because the crazed attacker lunged straight for her with vicious snarls and grasping arms. Clawing wildly at the loose material of her shirt, he managed to tear loose several buttons between her breasts. He reached for her again and got her bra caught between the rough flesh of his thumb and middle fingers. What was left of them. Part of Aili’s brain registered that half of his hand was missing.

  Reacting out of sheer terror, Aili saw herself kick out blindly. It didn’t stop her attacker, but it did unbalance him. He toppled over. While he struggled to get back up, she kicked him again. This time with more power behind it.

  He collapsed again, but obviously, from the sounds he was making, he was even more enraged. He wasn’t able to get back to his feet immediately, but Aili knew that wasn’t going to last long. Except he didn’t even try to get to his feet. He came crawling at her on all fours, making feral, gurgling sounds the whole time.

  As the man crouched over her feet, Aili stared in horror at the face before her. Dark hair, dripping with rain water, covered one eye. The other opaque eye was filled with blood lust. He must be on drugs, Aili thought with the part of her brain that could still think rationally. She watched a long string of bloody drool ooze out of one corner of the man’s mouth. She heard the gnashing of teeth.

  She was raw with fear, but adrenaline was surging through her veins and she slapped wildly at the bloody, mutilated hands that were reaching for her. Desperate, she kicked out again and connected with the man’s jaw which sent him crashing to the side again. But that didn’t stop him for long this time, either. With a renewed fury, he came at her again.

  She grabbed an umbrella from the umbrella stand beside her, and swung it hard. She made contact somewhere, but it had little or no effect. She grabbed the umbrella stand itself, swung it desperately and heard the reverberating ring of pottery crashing against skull. Finally her attacker seemed dazed.