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That’s fine.I just need a reason to get inside.
I sighed,setting my phone down. It would be nice to have a friendly face at the party. It was sure to be big, and I hated social events on good days, much less when I knew literallynobody, but… it was for a case. It was for myjob. And that didn’t make it better, but it was a little easier to compartmentalize. I did want to solve this case, and I wasn’t stringing Demi along — talking to several folks at the same party would make my life a hell of a lot easier.
You’re going to have to find something half-decent to wear, girl…
ELI
Eli’s Penthouse
Austin, Texas
Someone was yelling. Was it—
It was my mother’s mate. Brock.
The sheer volume of his voice alone made my stomach flip, threatening to turn itself inside out as I flattened myself further under the bed, looking for anything to muffle the noise — all I saw were dust bunnies. There was a thud, and the voice went quiet for a moment, so I glanced over my shoulder—
A clawed hand grabbed my ankle, and I shrieked, little fingers scrabbling uselessly at the hardwood as the inhuman hand tightened its grip.It’s going to break my leg!The shot thought across my mind like a bolt of lightning while I pulled and yanked, not caring how much it hurt my ankle or leg. My shoe was lost somewhere, but it didn’t matter. The hand was still closed like a vice, pulling, pulling.
It wouldn’t relent.
I looked around frantically for anything to grab, but nothing was down here. Not even toys. I kept my room clean, that’s how Mama liked it. But now, I was trapped and had nothing to put between me and the monster dragging me out.
The screaming started again; the voice was so loud it made me cringe and whimper. My ears throbbed, and I grabbed for the leg of the bed. As soon as I wrapped my fingers around it, the entire bed turned to dust, disappearing. My heart sank into my gut; it felt like someone doused me in ice water.
I wanted to turn but didn’t want to see the creature dragging me. I kicked blindly with my free leg, but suddenly that was grabbed too, the second hand squeezing just as hard as the first.My legs!
It was going to break my legs! I writhed and dug my fingers into the hardwood, that disappeared in a cloud of dust, too. I sneezed and rolled onto my side — I couldn’t see what the arms belonged to. It was hiding in some dark pit. A pit I was being dragged towards. I tipped my head and yelled.
“Mama! Mama, please!”
But no one answered.
No one heard me.
My voice echoed off walls I couldn’t see.
The monster gave one last jerk, and the earth gave way beneath me, hurtling me into the pitch-dark pit. I howled, limbs flailing wildly as I braced myself to—
I snapped upright,my heart in my throat as I blinked, staring blankly into the bedroom. I wasn’t falling. The sheets were tangled around my legs. I growled softly, willing my pulse to slow the hell down as I glanced at the nightstand next to the bed.
Three in the bloody morning.
I groaned and rubbed my hands over my face, trying to slow down my breathing. It wasn’t the first time I’d had that dream — far from it. It was always the same. I was always a little boy, five or six or seven. I was always hiding under a bed, in the closet, or behind a couch. I never knew how I got there, and I never knew what Brock was yelling about. My mother’s mate yelled alotwhen I was a boy, so I supposed it never matteredwhathe was yelling about. He was just an angry person.
But it always went the same way.
Brock yelled, but when I turned, it was a monster, not a man. Sometimes I could see the beast — sometimes, I couldn’t. It didn’t matter. It was a stupid dream and felt like something I should have outgrown years ago.What grown man dreams of being a child?Hell, I’d even take those ‘standard’ nightmares of losing your teeth or forgetting your pants at your job over this shit. Those seemed like cake.
My brain seemed too charged to fall back asleep, so I rolled over, flicking on the bedside lamp. I checked my phone, but there was nothing of any interest. Surfing through the apps, I ended up in my emails, deleting old ads or archiving messages that were no longer relevant. It was a mindless task and one that usually helped my brain turn back off.
I tapped the starred button, checking my saved messages for anything that could be refiled, and my eyes caught a subject line that always made my jaw tense. I stared at it briefly, eyes flicking to my father’s name. The email was eight years old; I could send it off to primary school now.
The thought made me snort; eight years ago, I had decided I wouldn’t visit my mother at her home anymore. It was her mate more than it was her — but just like my nightmare, that man wasalwaysangry about something. Always screaming. Always ready to escalate at the first hint that I might disagree with him. There was nothing I could do that made him happy. As I grew, the fear turned into resentment, and the last thing I wanted to do was get egged into a fight with my mother’s mate.
So, I stopped going.
My father, however… I sniffed, my lip curling.‘Family is important, Eli. I know you aren’t fond of Brock, but you should try to maintain a relationship with your mother. You don’t want to regret it later when she’s gone.’
