Dark Redemption Read online

  As first impressions go, this is the worst. I already had my age, lack of a degree, and current unemployment as a deterrent to being found suitable. Not to mention my stint in a mental institution. Gah. When considered on paper, even I wouldn’t find myself a suitable parental figure. I rub my belly, silently apologizing to the pea-size embryo that may have taken up residence in my uterus.

  Mrs. Moulton and Reverend Prince exit the house. “So Axle and Jonjovi sleep in the second bedroom. Where are the twins staying?” she asks.

  I answer her question. Can’t keep being a coward. “They’re staying at their own house with my boyfriend, Landry.”

  Reverend Prince cuts in. “As you’ve pointed out, Mala’s home is too small for seven people. My son, Landry, is of age. He and the twins are doing some home renovations. Once those are complete and Landry and Mala walk down the aisle, we’ll all move into the Big House.”

  Walk down the aisle? I avert my gaze before Mrs. Moulton can read my shock. Why am I so surprised? Reverend Prince hasn’t exactly been subtle about his “no sex before marriage” rule. And living in the same house before we’re hitched is definitely out. It’s just that I only turned twenty-one a couple of weeks ago. I deferred this semester because I wanted to devote all of my time to the kids’ adjustment to being in my care, which means I’ve still got a whole year before I’ll earn my Associate Degree in Criminal Justice. It’s like the universe deliberately keeps side-lining my educational goals. And marriage, well, it’s just another trap to delay me. I’m too young to be saddled with the responsibility of being a wife.

  And I’m sure as hell too young to be pregnant.

  Tears fill my eyes again, and I dash them away. Damn hormones. Mrs. Moulton asks for a tour of the rest of the property. She takes notes on everything, searching for potential dangers to the kids. Rightly so. Only it still sticks in my craw when she points at the rusted nails poking out of the boards of the chicken coup. If she’d seen the Acker place before Landry started fixing it up, she’d think the kids had found paradise. Pure heaven on earth.

  I scowl at the dangling chain on the chicken coop. One of the kids forgot to lock it. I pull open the door and freeze so suddenly that Mrs. Moulton crashes into my back. I spin around, shoving her back with one hand while slamming the door with the other. My hands tremble as I fumble for the chain, slipping the lock through the links one-handed while the door shakes from the body smashing against it, over and over.

  Then stops. I press my ear to the door, listening. The quiet is even more unnerving than the initial violence.

  “Ms. LaCroix?” Mrs. Moulton’s voice in my ear totally freaks me out.

  I let out a shrill screech, which Mrs. Moulton echoes. Her clipboard rises, and I wave her down. “We’re okay.” I lean against the door, pressing my hand to my throbbing heart. The clipboard drops. “I’m sorry, but I can’t let you in there.”

  Her scowl returns. “Why not? What’s in there?”

  Why? Why? “A, uh, r-rabid raccoon got into the chicken coop. It’s not safe. Or a sight you need to see. I’ll call someone out to put it down.” I swallow hard, working to push back the bile burning my throat. Nausea causes me to break out in a cold sweat. Maybe I look as sick as I feel because Mrs. Moulton steps back right before I vomit into the bucket of chickenfeed beside the door.

  The woman doesn’t show any compassion. She hightails it back to the house. I hunker before the door with my eyes squeezed shut, too scared to open them again and see what is already branded crimson in my mind.

  A naked Landry lying on the ground, covered in bloody feathers, while hugging a half-eaten hen to his bare chest.

  Chapter 2

  Landry

  Tastes Like Chicken

  My sister crouches beside me in the thick grass. Her long black hair tangles around a face so emaciated, it looks like she’s been hitting a crank pipe in the afterlife. Not that drugs should affect Lainey at all since she’s dead for almost six months. This must be a dream. Which explains the whole me not feeling at all ashamed about my big sis seeing my dinky waving in the wind for the first time since we ran around the backyard naked as kids.

  Terror fills me to the brim and leaks out to form pools of cold sweat on my bare skin. Each breath burns in my chest, coming shallower and shallower. The bushes to my left rustle…low to the ground. Leaves crinkle beneath a heavy, slithering form.

  Words claw their way from my tightening throat. “No, not again.”

  Lainey spins on her toes, facing me. She presses her hand against my mouth and lifts a finger to her lips, shushing me. Yeah, stupid. Now it knows exactly where we’re hiding. We’ve been lucky to stay under its radar for so long. Big sis used some mad mojo to put up a mystical retaining wall of sorts around us. It kept the demon contained in a corner of my mind, but like an idiot, I punched a hole in the barrier when I let the thing out to fight Red. At the time, I didn’t think I had a choice. I couldn’t fight him and Clarice on my own. And Dena…well, I wasn’t really thinking straight after she got shot.

  I squeeze my eye shut.

  Lainey punches my shoulder. “Come on, baby bro. Don’t fade on me again. I need your help.”

  A vein throbs in my forehead. “Mala thinks you’re a product of my subconscious. Not real, but a manifestation of the part of me trying to fight the demon.”

  “I’m real enough to save your scrawny butt,” Lainey says with a grimace. Her gaze darts to the bushes again. I think they represent the barrier in my head. It’s pretty realistic. Hell, this whole dream is.

  “You’re not dreaming, Landry. The demon’s taking a ride in your skin. It’s in control, and you’re too much of a chicken to come out of hiding to see what it’s doing. You let it free. If it kills, it’s your fault.”

  Lainey’s right. I tried not sleeping, but it didn’t matter. With exhaustion comes the lowering of my resistance. I couldn’t escape, and now I’m cowering in this fake forest so I don’t have to acknowledge the truth of all the horrible things it does when it takes over my body at night. Denial is the only way I can preserve my already strained sanity. I’m not ready to face the inevitable, and so far, I haven’t hurt anyone.

  I need to leave before that changes, but I just want a little more time. That’s not too much to ask for, is it? Time to say my good-byes.

  Lainey takes my hand and squeezes. She feels so real. “Leaving is the right choice. I can’t draw it back inside your mind for much longer. My protection as your ancestral guardian extends only so far. I’m sorry, baby bro. You need help from someone more powerful than I am.” She gives a sad grin. “But I have the juice to shove it in deep, one last time.”

  By shove it in, she means it’s here.

  I lunge backward, but Lainey’s hand wraps around mine. Her grip is so tight that my bones grind together. She keeps me from running away. ’Cause it sure isn’t pride making me hold my ground when the smooth skin of the giant snake rubs across my ankles. Its head, followed by its thick body, twines around my torso. My hand tightens around my sister’s. Goose bumps rise on my arms, and despite telling myself I need to relax, I tense up when its dry, musty smell hits my nose.

  God, I hate snakes. My breath hitches in my chest, but I grab hold of myself. I fight my gag reflex and open my mouth, letting my jaw stretch wider than humanly possible. The huge snake’s head shoves past my lips to slide across my tongue. Its scales tickle the roof of my mouth, then the back of my throat.

  * * *

  I’ve got gas. Not the explosive kind, but the type that settles in my intestines and presses against my internal organs until my guts are about to burst. My skin itches. Something feathery brushes the tip of my nose. It tickles. I blow out a heavy breath, then inhale the sharp, coppery scent of blood and the acrid stench of chicken shit. Uncontrolled sobs filter in next, sending a full-bodied shiver through my body. I’m fully awake now and afraid to open my eye—to confirm what I already know.

  I’m not in my bed at the Acker’s hou
se.

  And Mala’s crying.

  Whatever the demon snake did while walking around in my skin is worse than anything it has done before if it broke Mala. I crack open my eyelid and wince at the shaft of sunlight shining through the opening door. A shadow hunches against the door frame. My body aches as if I’m suffering from the flu. Tight muscles protest when I sit up. A weight falls from my arms, and I stare in horror at the headless chicken on my lap. The yell comes from deep inside, bursting out. I fling the carcass across the shed and scramble on hands and knees toward the door.

  Mala looks up when I reach her. She flinches from my bloody hand. The horror in her eyes stops me from moving closer.

  “Mala,” I whisper.

  “You a-ate Tabitha.” She wipes her eyes with the back of her hands, sniffing. “S-she was my b-best laying hen.”

  “Are you okay?”

  “Do I look okay?” she wails.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “It’s not your fault. I don’t blame you. It’s just…” Her dark-eyed gaze scans the inside of the chicken coop. “This is beyond…I’m so scared, Landry. You’ve never traveled so far while unconscious. Never k-killed before. That thing inside you is getting stronger, and we can’t hold off any longer. I think it’s time to call Magnolia.”

  I’ve been holding my breath, knowing, yet dreading what Mala would say. Air seeps from my lungs as a resigned sigh. “Call her,” I say.

  Mala bites her lip and nods. “I’ll tell her about Dena too. Better to kill two birds with one stone. No pun intended.” Her smile looks forced. She’s doing her best to comfort me. I’d rather hear her cussing me out than this false cheer. It’s fucking creepy.

  “We’ve got other nonmagical problems,” she says.

  “What does that mean?”

  “The kids’ DCFS social worker thinks a rabid raccoon is in here. We don’t have much time. I’ve got to go head her off before she gets your dad and Georgie all worked up and they come back with a gun. I can’t explain this”—she waves her hand over me—“away. Especially since I almost hit her in the head with a baseball bat.”

  Social worker, bat, Georgie Porgie…Damn, what a shitty morning. I focus on the thing I can sort of control. “Why is Deputy Dawg here?”

  Mala shrugs and pushes to her feet. She wavers a moment, eyes closing. I jump up, lightly touching her shoulder in case she passes out. Which appears to be a distinct possibility given how ashen her skin looks.

  Her hand trembles when she pushes mine away. “I’m okay.”

  Hurt burns in my chest and I step back, crossing my arms across my sticky chest.

  Mala peeks at me through one eye. “Don’t get your undies all twisted. I’m not pushing you away because I don’t love you, but because I don’t want my clothes to get bloody. I’ll get rid of everyone as fast as I can. Don’t come out until it’s safe. The last thing we need is for one of them to see you like this.”

  I glance down. Naked and covered in blood. Yeah, yeah. Got it. I look like I stepped out of a slasher flick. Still, Mala didn’t answer the question about George, and I don’t have time to ask again because, by the time I look up, she’s already jogging toward the house with her head down and her shoulders slumped.

  Another few minutes pass with me flicking off dried flecks of blood from my skin before a mass exodus occurs at the house. Dad escorts the woman who must be the kids’ social worker to a tan sedan. They both climb inside, and the car backs down the driveway. Mala and George stand on the porch arguing, from the way they’re gesturing, and…Oh shit! They’re heading in my direction. The small wooden chicken coop has only the one exit. There’s no way for me to get out without them seeing my naked ass running for the woods.

  Mala’s high-pitched voice echoes. “It’s okay. I can handle this.”

  “A rabid animal is no joke.”

  “But it is a joke, really. Georgie…stop.”

  I peek around the corner. Mala holds on to George by the arm, keeping him from walking forward unless he wants to drag her. I duck behind the door and scrunch down. If he just sticks his head in, he might not see me.

  Yeah, right. Who am I kidding? I’m so screwed.

  I can already picture George’s reaction when he sees me. “You’re dangerous, Landry. A rabid dog, and I’m putting you down.” Pow. Head shot.

  Mala is talking fast, and probably looking sexy as hell, to convince him she lied about the rabid raccoon so the woman wouldn’t inspect the chicken coop. I’d be impressed by her skills if I wasn’t worried. “Mrs. Moulton already dinged me in her notebook about a rusty nail,” she says. “Can you imagine what she’d say if she saw I haven’t cleaned the coop for days? I know it’s wrong to lie, but I was desperate. I screwed up earlier.”

  “What were you thinking to come at her with a baseball bat?”

  “Obviously I wasn’t thinking.” Uh-oh, George’s gone and pissed her off. Dumbass.

  I stare through a crack in the siding. They stand face-to-face, glaring at each other. George in his tan uniform with his shiny star winking in the morning light. Mala with her arms crossed and foot tapping. If he knows her like I do, George will be able to tell she’s lying by the way she refuses to meet his eyes

  He throws his hands in the air. “Fine, whatever. We’ve wasted too much time anyway. I didn’t come to babysit the kids or get involved in your personal drama.”

  “Why are you here then?”

  “I need your help.”

  “Are you kidding?” She sounds as skeptical as I feel about George’s sincerity. What’s he up to now? I want to go out there and confront him. I even stand up, then remember, yeah, I’m fucking naked. And covered in blood.

  “There’s been a murder. A hiker found the body of a teenage boy in the woods. He’s been torn to pieces. Like an animal ripped into him, but the bites were made by human teeth.”

  My stomach clenches.

  “And…why come to me?” Her voice only breaks on the one word, but I know the same thoughts running through my head are going through hers. I stare down at my bloody fingernails and clench them into fists. My heart races. There’s nothing but a foggy cloud in my head when I try to think back to what I did while possessed. I purposely kept myself from seeing what the creature did for this reason. I didn’t want the memory of hurting someone to be stuck in my head. Except now I need to know. Is it possible? Did I…

  I swallow. Wrong move. A metallic taste coats my tongue and I gag. George said teeth. Human teeth. It takes everything I have not to run the tip of my tongue over mine. No. No. No. This can’t be happening.

  “Once upon a time you would be asking all kinds of questions about the crime scene. You’d ask who the kid is, his age, how he was murdered. Whether I had any suspects lined up.” George pauses, and I hold my breath. “Aren’t you curious?”

  “Yes,” Mala says, choking on the word. “Yes, I’m curious. But why come to me? Sheriff Keyes already said I wouldn’t be able work for the sheriff’s office unless I pass a psych test, and we both know that’s gonna be tough since I’ve spent time in a mental hospital.”

  “But you’re not insane. You see ghosts.”

  “Like anyone at the sheriff’s office—other than you—will believe me if I tell them ‘I see dead people.’ I haven’t even told Bessie my secret.”

  “Maybe you should.” He touches her arm, and my gut clenches. “Prove to her that you’re telling the truth. Just like you did with me.”

  “’Cause that confession went over so well,” she drawls. “Mr. Acker almost killed me.”

  “So you’re giving up on your dream?”

  “Not giving up,” she says slowly. “I’m evaluating my possibilities. It’s not just me anymore. There are the kids, Reverend Prince, and Landry. I’ve got a family to support. I can’t be selfish and foolishly follow a dream that may not come true. ’Sides, dreams change.”

  “Exactly my point.”

  “Huh?”

  Man, I really wish they�
�d take this conversation inside. As much as I don’t want him talking her into anything crazy, I’m even more anxious to get out of this chicken coop and take a shower. My skin itches. And I can’t stop thinking that it’s that dead kid’s blood. That I killed him. Ate him.

  What if a finger is in my stomach? The DNA evidence slowly being digested. I swallow the chunks trying to crawl up my throat. Puking will make too much noise.

  “You want me to do what?” Mala shrieks, and I almost fall on my ass. I roll onto my knees to peer through the crack. My girl has a curl wrapped around her finger, and she looks like she’s trying to rip it from her scalp. She spins on her heel and stalks toward the house, yelling over her shoulder, “Everyone thinks I’m crazy, but Deputy Dubois, you’ve lost your ever-loving mind.”

  Oh, crap! What’d I miss?

  Chapter 3

  Mala

  Ghost Detective

  My feet move fast, but not nearly as quickly as my brain, which is racing to process what George just proposed. The idea of actually doing what he asked makes my stomach roll.

  “Ridiculous!” I mutter, throwing a glare over my shoulder. It’s crazy—a death wish of an idea. A ginormous, squishy ball of stupid. Yet part of me, the obviously insane-ain’t-got-no-brain part, thinks this might be the perfect test of my skills.

  “Mala, wait!” George yells, running after me.

  I pick up speed, only to trip over a stick. George catches my arm before I fall flat on my face in a mud puddle and embarrass myself further.

  I jerk my arm free and spin around. “Let me get this straight, because I swear I didn’t hear right.” My finger stabs at the bulletproof vest under his shirt. “You want me to go with you to the crime scene and ask the murder victim who killed him?”

  George’s green eyes sparkle as a smile lights up his face. “Yeah, isn’t it brilliant?”