Chapter Fourteen

Dee stepped onto the sidewalk and walked as rapidly as possible towards the Beaumont residence. She was fully aware of deliberating disobeying her grandmother, something she never did before. Chances are she would get to the house at the same time they would anyway. At the very least she could flag down someone to help or run to a neighbor’s house if something needed to be done right away. She was parading into real danger, however, and she was aware of this.

The thunderstorm had ended for now, but Dee saw lightning flashes all around her. She suspected another round of storms was imminent, and she hoped this entire episode would be over before the torrential rains returned. Dee noted the first round increased the mugginess, if that was possible. Water droplets fell lazily from the drenched trees over her head, adding to her discomfort. After only one block she was perspiring freely.

As she turned down Beaumont’s street, Dee gasped in alarm and yelled, “Ryan!”

The boy had been running in and out of the illumination of streetlights. He would have slammed into her if she hadn’t yelled and he if hadn’t made a last second maneuver to skirt her.

“Dee!” he shouted. His voice was strained from panting and his eyes darted around her in panic. “What’re you doing?”

“You’re hurt!”

He was. Dee was startled to see his appearance. Even in the dim light provided by streetlights he was nearly unrecognizable. Sweat and blood ran like a fountain from his hair. Dirt and blood smeared across his face. Blood was everywhere on his exposed skin and clothes. His hair was matted in grime. His bruises were even uglier than before.

“Bit me…tried to eat me.” His labored breathing continued. He kept frantically looking around her in jerky movements, and with no warning started running again.

Dee lunged for his hand and grabbed it just before he was out of reach. It was his left hand and he swung around grunting in pain. His cast was gone except for a few pieces.

“Ryan wait!”

“I can’t. He has my family.”

This time, hands clasped, she ran with him.

* * * *

Eugenia gripped the passenger door handle tightly. She didn’t know if watching out the windshield or closing her eyes would make her feel less anxious. Signs, buildings, and houses swept past with startling speed. She never had been in a car going this fast. Sidelong glances at Lund didn’t ease her terror, as he steered with one hand and held onto his cell with the other.

“I’m there in a minute or two,” he practically yelled then discontinued his call.

“There was an officer keeping the house under surveillance. He doesn’t respond to radio. That could mean a problem. Squads are headed there now.”

Tires squealed as he turned a corner. Eugenia had a terrible sense of vertigo along with a feeling they might tip over.

“They got Lizette on a bus to Atlanta. Her car was found at the bus station in Charleston. A ticket agent recognized her photo and recalled where she was headed. She confirmed Beaumont orchestrated this whole thing. He’d be gone for weeks in summer. The last two or three summers he took those boys. They would bring souvenirs back, or that’s what he called them. She never looked at what was in the plastic bags. She swore up and down she didn’t know they were kidnapped children. By the way, they were all alive when they were brought back. Hard to miss the cries of a little kid.”

* * * *

“Ryan, look!”

Dee pulled him up short with less than half of a block left before they turned down the street separating his house from the park. Ryan stood directly below his bedroom window, in almost the exact spot Hugo and Max were the other night. He saw the end of the porches from this location, and his attention was drawn to the second level porch at Dee’s urging. Hugo stood on the railing, slowly scanning the front yard. Max came into view seconds later, looking questionably up at his brother. Ryan could not take another step forward without being seen. They crept backwards.

“Shit. What am I going to do?” he whispered.

“Ryan, wait for the police.”

“I can’t. My mom’s in there. Besides, they’re all going to Beaumont’s house.”

The wraparound porch only extended the front of the house and the area above the garden. This side of the house where Ryan’s bedroom was located and the back had no porch.

Ryan had an idea. “Over here.” He slipped further down the block, but still adjacent to his house. Here he was able to speak a little louder. “They’re looking for me…or the other guy, more likely. You got to help me over the fence.”

“What are you talking about?” Dee staggered slightly at the idea.

“They’re not watching the side. I can sneak around the back and enter the house by the garden. It’s the only way.”

“No. You can wait.”

“For what? I can be inside in a couple of minutes. Who knows where the help is. You can call them—tell them what’s going on—as soon as I’m over.”

Dee didn’t reply, but then Ryan never gave her a chance. He swiveled around and placed his hands on two vertical posts of the fence about shoulder width apart. The top of the fence was shorter than he was, so maybe it was five feet. If his arm wasn’t hurting, he thought he could probably hoist himself up and lift a foot to the top horizontal rail and finish by somehow vaulting himself over. Tonight he needed help. He turned back to look at Dee.

“I’m sorry. I can’t lose my mom, too.”

Dee’s expression softened and she moved to his side. “Okay, how do we do this?”

“I’m not sure. I think I’ll try and lift myself up high enough to get my left foot on the bar. After that, I don’t know. Just be ready to give me a boost under my right foot.”

He rubbed his hands on his shirt and grasped the tops of two posts. “Here goes.” He squatted for a second before using his legs to push upward while simultaneously hoisting himself. Immediately he found his waist at the level of the fence top. His left wrist began screaming in pain, and he actually felt his forearm twitching. Knowing he couldn’t hold this position much longer, Ryan tried to swing his left leg high enough so his foot would land securely on the rail. His sneaker crashed uselessly against the top of the post and his leg fell back.

“Damn!”

He swung his leg again, but the initial effort had weakened him, and he realized he was operating on a dwindling supply of energy. Suddenly, he felt Dee’s hands square on his butt and pushing up. There was enough momentum for him to raise his foot to the top bar and wedge his sneaker on the rail. Dee also stepped over and pushed his foot more securely between the two posts.

“Great! Now, boost me.”

Ryan felt her hands under his right sneaker and as he tried to bring up his leg, she lifted. His knee banged into a bar, but he didn’t stop until he had his knee resting on a railing.

His position was precarious, as he swayed at the top of the fence. He needed to get his knee up and somehow push with his left foot and jump to the ground. The swaying increased, and he noticed the tapered points of the spikes of the fence. He could see himself getting impaled if he slipped.

“Ryan, look up.”

“What?”

“Above you. Look up.”

He did. A limb from an oak tree extended about two feet above his head. He grabbed the limb, and the roughness of the bark was a welcomed feeling. His swaying stopped, and he was able to rest for a second.

“Thanks.” Breathing heavily, he brought his painful left arm up and caught the branch. Now even steadier, he slowly stood by bringing up his right foot. After a couple of breaths, and trying not to think about it, he jumped. His landing was silent and he maintained his balance. He looked back at Dee.

“Going down was easier.”

“I’m calling now.”

“Okay.” He ran towards the back of the house.

This part abutted the property next door, and only a narrow path separated the house from the fence. The path was comprised of blue slate pavers and some kind of ground cover Ryan couldn’t identify. The area was not as well kept as the remainder of the property, and Ryan envisioned snakes and spiders the size of his fist crawling along in the darkness. He forced himself to take deliberate steps.

Darkness ruled the path, such that Ryan saw vague shapes with only the tiniest hint of color. Lights from a neighboring house or a lightning flash would display varying shades of green from the vegetation. Water dripped freely from trees and gutters to maintain the tropical feel. Wind gusts still buffeted the surroundings, and unrelenting lightning-thunder combinations foretold additional storms.

Ryan never saw the metal pail before he kicked it, and the accompanying rattle sounded louder than a jackhammer. He froze, and waited for cries of alarm or running footsteps advancing on his location. There was nothing, and he allowed himself to exhale slowly in relief. Kneeling down, Ryan felt for the obstacles in his path and found small gardening tools to go along with the pail. His grandmother must leave them here when she finished her daily pottering in the garden.

He reached the corner of the house. The edge of the garden lay directly before him, and extended to his right down the side of the house. He stole a glance around the corner. The garden stood empty. Faint light from the surrounding houses and streetlamps cast shadows, but no movement was evident. A bolt of lightning illuminated the dark recesses of the yard that Ryan’s vision couldn’t penetrate.

The door to the kitchen was just about ten feet away.

* * * *

Dee crept along the wrought iron fence staying as low as she could to the ground. She moved slowly enough that she was counting on the shadows and the weather to make her less obvious. Like Ryan about an hour before, she wished she had on dark clothing, but at least she wasn’t wearing anything white.

Despite the inherent dangers, she was fascinated by the movements of the younger boy. He had clearly transformed into…something. Yes, a dragon could describe it, so could a dinosaur or even a bird. His gait had a hop to it, while his legs and arms extended unusually long with claws capable of ripping a person in two sprouting at the end of his arms and legs. He could pounce across the length of the second floor porch in four steps. When he had done this three times, he jumped onto the railing, landing on his feet which were actually talons. He stood firmly and comfortably watching what was going on in the front yard. After a few second, he would gracefully launch himself off the second floor and land easily on the lawn…after which he would jump and scamper up to the second floor porch. He would then repeat the pattern.

Dee took out her cell phone while still crouching close to the front gate, and called her grandmother. She watched between the bars. She could not find the older boy.

“Gramma.” She kept her voice low. “Ryan was captured at Mister Beaumont’s house. He escaped.” Her grandmother started asking questions, but there was no time to explain. “Long story, I’ll tell you later. Beaumont and those two creepy kids are at his house. Ryan thinks they have his family inside. Gramma, he did it again. He sneaked into his own house this time. Bring that FBI man here.” She hung up without waiting for a reply.

Dee returned her attention to the front of the house. The little boy was gone. She swore to herself and looked through the fence at the lawn and peered towards the garden. She didn’t see him. Dee was rising from her crouch when she heard a low growl. At first, she thought it might be thunder, but the sound was too close. She looked up.

The older boy was in a squatting position on the top of the fence right above her. He glared down at her, eyes indistinguishable from the night except for faint red specks of fire. The claws at the ends of his arms suggested searing agony, while his talon-like feet clutched the horizontal bar of the fence. He was balanced perfectly. The boy licked his lips to catch his drool. His teeth were shards of glass.

Something flopped right next to her, making a slapping sound as feet hit pavement. The little boy appeared from no discernible direction. He smiled at her, displaying teeth like daggers.

“Hi. I’m Max.”

From above, Dee heard the older one pounce.

* * * *

Lund raced down Beaumont’s street towards multiple squad cars with lights flashing chaotically. To his right, Mrs. Pullman finished her call.

“They’re not here.” Panic escalated dramatically.

“What?”

“Dee said Ryan escaped, but she wasn’t clear from what. Beaumont and his demons are at the Tryon house. Ryan’s family is in danger. Ryan just entered the house to get them. Dee is with him.”

Lund braked the car sharply in front of Beaumont’s house. “Are you sure? Could it be a diversion?”

Mrs. Pullman’s hands fluttered to her face. “Dear Lord. I don’t know. Dee sounded like herself…”

Lund threw the door open. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.” Lund ran around the car and saw Templeton leaning over medics who were working on someone. “What’s the status?”

Templeton didn’t look up. “Officer down, multiple injuries. No one inside. If you thought the other house was a chamber of horrors, wait till you see this one.”

Lund started back to his car while yelling, “Get people to the Tryon house. The Batista girl said the kid, his family, Beaumont, and God knows who else are there.”

He was back in the car within seconds and speeding away, light and sirens raging. He noticed Mrs. Pullman had moved her satchel to the seat between them. She had been digging through it to find her Bible.

* * * *

Ryan remained as close to the side of the house as possible and moved furtively towards the door of the kitchen. There was nothing he could do about the noise produced from opening the metal framed screen door except to open it extremely slowly. The kitchen door was ajar, and Ryan gave it a slight push with his foot as he held the outside door open. It moved soundlessly, giving him enough room to slide through the opening. Then, he closed the outside door.

He was inside his house. The tension was close to unmanageable. His breath quivered as he inhaled, but his exhale felt more like an earthquake. Breaking into two houses in one night…

The interior was eerily silent. After taking a few calming breaths, he noticed a rustling sound coming from the dining room area. Ryan tried to swallow, and realized his mouth was dry. He wanted to inspect the other surrounding rooms before entering the dining room.

He slipped into what his grandmother referred to as the “parlor”, but first checked around the inside wall by the doorway to make sure Beaumont wasn’t waiting to grab him. He concentrated on softly placing each step on the floor. The living room was in darkness, and Ryan peered around the corner before entering.

Behind him and across the hall, Ryan heard footfalls descending slowly down the uncarpeted hardwood stairs. The sound was hollow and lifeless. The hallway light on the second floor evidently cast enough illumination for the person to see adequately. Ryan assumed it was Beaumont because he would recognize the footfalls of his mother or grandmother and the two boys were outside. The tap of the shoes was unsettling. Ryan stepped into the darkness of the living room.

“Son?” Beaumont softly called.

Ryan remained perfectly still. He sensed Beaumont reached the end of the stairs, but no further movement occurred. After what seemed like hours, Ryan heard Beaumont sigh and return upstairs. Ryan couldn’t imagine what he was doing up there, other than watching for his precious son.

He let his eyes adjust to the dark of the room. The furnishings he associated with family and warmth now were sinister. Somehow they cast an air of betrayal making him feel even more vulnerable.

At the other end of the living room was an entry to the dining room, but it was blocked by pocket doors. Even with the doors nearly closed, a faint noise was perceptible from the other side. The chandelier was lit as evidenced by the light under the doors, but the dimmer switch must have pushed all the way down. This was terrific lighting for a romantic dinner, but now it hinted at sheer terror.

The rustling resumed as Ryan drew near. The tension was killing him, but he forced himself to maintain the slow pace. He wished he had the crowbar.

When Ryan reached the pocket doors, he slid them gently apart until he reached a vantage point to examine the dining room. He almost lost all of his composure and had to call upon every instinct he had not to cry out.

His mother and grandmother sat upright in the dining rooms chairs at the table. Their positions seemed exaggerated, and Ryan saw why. They had been taped to the seats using silver duct tape. Their mouths were also taped shut, but their eyes were very aware and opened wide in panic.

“Mom!” Ryan whispered fiercely as he slid open the pocket doors as quietly as he could. Once in the dining room, he closed the doors as silently as possible.

For the second time in an hour, Ryan found himself looking for a cutting instrument. His mother jerked her head, trying to communicate, and she made guttural vocalizations under the tape. He found a knife and cut the tape at his mother’s wrists. He kept checking the two doorways into the dining room, in anticipation of Beaumont. With her arms free, his mother tore at the tape over her mouth. He worked on the tape around her waist that attached her to the seat.

“Ryan, stop!” she whispered, and forcibly grabbed his shirt and threw him off balance. “Get out of here now. Call the police, don’t waste time.”

Ryan ignored her and bent to free her feet.

“Mom, are you okay? Did he hurt you?”

“I’m okay honey. I’ll be all right.” She clasped her hands around his face. “My poor baby. Please leave and get help.”

“Dee’s gonna call. I can’t leave you in this house with that bastard running loose inside.” He gave her the knife. “Here Mom. You can finish.”

“Ryan…” she pleaded.

“I love you both.” He slipped into the kitchen. His mother whispered after him again, but he didn’t answer. Instead he searched for something to use as a weapon. A frying pan and rolling pin were too bulky. He saw the wooden block with the cutlery, and found a carving knife that fitted his hand nicely.

The front door flung open and slammed into the wall. Cries and swearing erupted from the entrance. Even though Ryan could not see what was going on from his vantage point in the kitchen, he knew what happened.

“Arthur! Look who I found!” Hugo yelled from the front hallway. “I want her, man. She’s mine.”

Hugo found Dee outside.

* * * *

“Mom, almost done.” Miranda gently pulled the tape from Carolyn’s mouth. When she pulled the last portion, she asked, “Are you okay?”

Carolyn looked disheveled. Her hair was mussed, and her pallor had a green cast as if she was ill. Her eyes were clear and focused, however. “I’m fine dear. Shaking like a leaf of course. Where’s Ryan off to?”

At that moment, a siren pierced the pandemonium in the front hallway.

“Oh, thank God.” Miranda cut the tape from her mother’s wrists.

* * * *

Ryan remained hidden in the kitchen clutching his knife and wondering what to do. His confidence was evaporating rapidly now that Dee was captive. All three of them clumped together with Dee in their midst suddenly made the situation seem impossible to handle without Dee or him getting hurt.

Beaumont descended the stairs with more urgency than he had when Ryan entered the house. “Where did you find her?”

“Out by the main gate. She’s mine, remember. I want her.” Hugo’s voice was raised with excitement.

The knife handle was moist under Ryan’s hand. Hugo wanting her could mean so many things.

“Stop it, Hugo. There’s no time for playing.”

“For afterwards, then.” Hugo’s voice sounded desperate.

A siren was approaching. Ryan felt relief…Dee got through.

“Did you see your brother?” Beaumont raised his voice.

“Nope,” Max said timidly.

“Aww, who the hell cares? We don’t need him. We were fine without him,” Hugo whined.

“We don’t need him?” Beaumont bellowed. “Is that what you just said?” It sounded as if he was walking towards Hugo, because additional shuffling noises followed Beaumont’s movement. Hugo was backing up, dragging Dee with him. “We don’t need him?” Beaumont repeated. “You little shit! It’s because of your little stunt that we have bit of a crisis on our hands. We wouldn’t be in this situation if you hadn’t lied to me.” Beaumont’s voice was raging out of control. “To succeed in our plan, we need more personnel. We’ll always need more! Dammit, Hugo. Here you are, only thinking about yourself.

“I’m asking you one more time, Hugo. Did you see your brother?”

“He’s not coming.” A small, timid whisper came from Dee.

“What did you say, dear?” Beaumont was trying to sound reasonable.

“He won’t be making it,” Dee’s voice was louder than before. “He’s dead. Beaten to a pulp. You didn’t count of Ryan getting away.” Now her tone was defiant.

A pause in the shouting allowed the siren to be heard by everyone.

“Is the Perry brat here?” Beaumont yelled in disbelief.

Dee didn’t answer him.

“This is just…not fair! That kid is probably outside somewhere…or in here. Damn!”

By the front gate, the siren quit screeching, indicating the emergency vehicle had stopped.

“Hugo, get outside and handle whoever that is. Redeem yourself. Leave her with me.”

“Arthur, I…” Hugo was pleading.

“Go, now! You have been such a bad boy.” Ryan heard the front door open. “Max, go with him.” Max must have left without saying a word, for the door shut with no further interactions.

Now with the two guys gone, the odds were better. Ryan made his move.

* * * *

Lund aggressively shifted the car into park. “Please stay in the car,” he said to Mrs. Pullman. She didn’t respond, but he didn’t like the look of determination on her face. She clutched her Bible to her chest.

As he swung the door open, lightning flashed the area, making it appear like midday for a brief second. Thunder boomed immediately. That was close, Lund thought. A few raindrops fell.

The house stood indifferent to the ongoing mayhem. Lund was immediately reminded of his final day at his aunt’s house of walking into the dark, quiet house, then through the house, and out the back door into…hell.

Lund slid past the gate and began closing it behind him. The rain suddenly came down in torrents. Distracted, he missed seeing the front door open and close, so was surprised to see two figures on the front porch.

Demons masquerading as boys.

Both crouched momentarily and then with an unearthly cry sprang off the porch and charged him.

Lund unholstered his weapon, took what aim he could and fired twice. He thought he heard a yelp come from the younger one, but then they were on him. Their lunge pushed him back into the gate, and it clanged shut.

His gun fell to the brick path, and he was reduced to fending off the attack with his hands. He swung wildly. Teeth snapped with breakneck speed, attempting to catch whatever came within reach. Claws flashed in a blur. He was never positive what he hit.

The smaller one leapt to his chest and clung to him with nails like chisels. The mouth chomped on his left forearm and squeezed. Molten pain flowed unobstructed to his chest. The older boy reared back and flung his arms around Lund’s torso. As he frantically tried to remove the smaller creature, he was not prepared to ward off the older boy who widened his mouth cavity and bit down on his side under the armpit and over his ribcage.

Lund screamed in agony, which pierced the rhythm of the downpour.

* * * *

Ryan rushed from the kitchen hoping to grab Dee and push her out of the way. At the front hallway, he stopped abruptly because Beaumont stood right there looking at him as if he had expected him to appear. He also held a knife, and it was poised at Dee’s neck. Beaumont’s other arm held her close to him.

Where’d he get the knife?

As if reading his mind, Beaumont said, “I always carry one for protection. You never know when you might need it.”

A clap of thunder shook the house. Ryan resumed walking ever so slowly.

“Let her go.”

“Like I’m going to do what you say just because you say so.” Beaumont laughed.

“I killed your kid. It was easy.” He continued walking.

“Doesn’t look like it, given how you look. Still, I am disappointed. No matter. Just a minor upset.” Ryan knew Beaumont was trying to make it look as though it was only a trivial setback. It was not convincing.

Two explosions rang outside, and Ryan thought they sounded like gunshots.

Beaumont seemed sure however. He backpedaled quickly to the base of the stairs. “Get upstairs, girl. I need to check. Don’t do something stupid.” They started walking up the stairs together.

Ryan slowly followed.

* * * *

Eugenia recognized she was needed. She noticed the horrible demons before Lund did. She fumbled with the door to warn him, but the creatures were so fast the agent was shooting his gun as she scrambled out of the car.

Every muscle group in her body revolted against her efforts to approach the young man. He was pumping his arms to fend off the creatures, but they weaved and dodged with unbelievable agility.

Continuing to clutch her Bible, she searched frantically for ideas.

You have a stronger weapon…

She was quickly drenched, and her wet clothes contributed to her agonizingly slow progress. Eugenia prayed with each step.

A shrill cry erupted from the tangle of figures at the gate. Eugenia noticed it was the little demon, which had seen her approach. His black eyes widened in panic.

My God, he’s afraid.

“Good, you should fear…” Eugenia raised her Bible in her arms. Rain coursed down, but the book appeared undamaged. Lightning flashed. The younger demon squealed again. Eugenia saw Jeremy’s left arm was now free and saw the young man slap the demon off his chest. Blood spurted where the creature’s claws had dug in, and then was washed away in the rain. The young demon tried to run away, but Jeremy was able to kick it before it had any traction. All the while the teeth of the older demon boy remained attached.

Eugenia knew how to disable them. Her spirits soared as she picked up speed walking to the gate. Transferring the Bible to her left hand, she held out her right hand before her, cupping it to catch some water…although she suspected this wasn’t necessary given the rain was soaking everything. As she reached the gate, she thrust her hand through the posts and over Jeremy’s arm. She grasped the back of the head of the older demon, and began rubbing all of the water into his scalp.

She began the rite, “I baptize you, in the name of the father, and…”

The older demon released his mouth from Jeremy’s chest, screamed, and then flung itself out of her reach. Lightning exploded around them, and the thunder was deafening.

“…and of the son, and of the Holy Spirit…” but the creature was now ten feet away, rubbing its hair frantically, as if trying to shampoo the blessing away.

“Jeremy, son, you need to move away from the gate.” Eugenia was trying to push the gate open, but the injured agent had fallen to the ground and was braced against it.

Somehow, the young man heard her and shifted to his knees, and crawled a few feet. Eugenia pushed open the gate far enough for her to slide through sideways. She walked calmly to the agent, all the while watching the demons who were about ten feet away. The younger was still whimpering, and the other was flailing at his head, but the movements were becoming less pronounced. She didn’t have much time before they came around.

Eugenia leaned over Jeremy, and placed her hand on his head. She briefly prayed for his healing and strength. “Jeremy. The children are still in the house.”

He nodded, clearing his head. “I’ll get them.” He staggered to his feet, and checked his injuries. He looked at her, puzzled. “I’m feeling okay.”

“Yes. Now go.”

Lund searched the ground until her found his weapon by the fence, and limped toward the house.

The two demons looked more like little boys again. They were scared and uncertain. Eugenia crossed the property towards them. The boys shrank back with gasps of fear. With her Bible clasped in her hands, Eugenia lifted it above her head again so they would see it.

“In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command you to leave this house!”

Wails of misery erupted from both.

Again, she cried in a loud voice, “In the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, I command you to leave this house!”

More woe from the boys–they retreated from Eugenia, increasing the distance between them and her.

“The power of Christ demands that you leave. In his name I command you!”

A violent gust of wind raced around Eugenia, tearing at the boys. As the air continued to rotate, a visible vortex formed and the boys clawed their way along the ground away from Eugenia to keep from being torn helplessly from their place. Their screams increased in a crescendo with the raging wind as they managed to escape the immediate updraft, but blind panic remained as they sprinted from the property, hurdling over brick walls and fences.

As quickly as it started, the rotating wind dissipated.

Silence returned.

Eugenia walked forward, and raised her eyes to the nightmare unfolding on the upstairs porch.

* * * *

Ryan knew Beaumont might become very dangerous if he realized he was corned upstairs. At the same time, he knew he had to keep Dee in his sight. He wouldn’t let that bastard take her away.

It would be impossible to run up the stairway without announcing his presence, although he guessed it would be no surprise to Beaumont if he appeared. He willed himself to slow down and take each step as softly as possible.

“Ryan?” his mother called tentatively from down below, probably still in the dining room.

God dammit, Mom, shut up.

As he neared the top landing, Ryan heard Mrs. Pullman yelling something outside.

With a burst of anger, Beaumont yelled, “What in hell is going on out there?” The suddenness of the outburst so startled Ryan that he dropped the knife. It hit the first step and then clunked its way end over end to the bottom of the stairs.

Shit!

Frantic footfalls rushed from his grandmother’s bedroom to the second floor porch. Beaumont had been hiding in that bedroom and forced his way through a door that allowed him to enter the second floor porch. He had to be dragging Dee with him, and he showed no indication that he heard the knife tumble down the stairs.

More sirens blared in the distance.

Ryan scrambled to the top step on the second floor landing and pursued Beaumont. No longer concerned about whether Beaumont heard him, Ryan sprang onto the porch.

Sirens were louder now…seconds away.

Beaumont held Dee around the neck with one arm. The knife was poised beneath her neck in his other hand. She struggled to stay on her feet, but her eyes were focused and alert. She gazed intently at Ryan, and his heart ached.

Beaumont turned to Ryan. “You cannot take my son from me.” Beaumont was unbalanced, his expression melodramatically evil.

“I already did. You still have two. What’s the big deal?”

“He was my firstborn…” His remaining words became a frenzied mumble.

“Arthur?”

The call was calm but authoritative, coming from the ground below. Ryan knew it was Mrs. Pullman. Dee jumped involuntarily, which caused Beaumont to stiffen. Ryan’s heart was in his throat.

Beaumont was confused. His head swung back and forth looking for the source of the voice.

“Arthur,” Mrs. Pullman called again.

“What?” Beaumont back-peddled, dragging Dee, all the way to the railing overlooking the garden. He leaned against the railing and glanced below, searching for the voice. The knife shifted randomly as Beaumont’s attention wavered away from Dee. He finally saw Mrs. Pullman. Her presence unraveled him.

“Your other boys have left, Arthur. I’ve sent them home. They won’t be back. They’re too afraid.” Her voice tone was reasonable. “You can let the girl go.”

“She’s right, Mister Beaumont,” Ryan added. “You might as well let her go. Those two boys need you.”

“Don’t patronize me, you little shit. You’re too young.”

Below, a door was yanked open and heavy footfalls sounded.

“Agent Lund.” Ryan heard his mother gasp.

A second voice, Lund’s, was much lower but still audible. “How do I reach them?”

His grandmother answered with surprising calm. “Upstairs, to the left, through my bedroom.”

Ryan looked at Beaumont. He was frantic. He eyes shifted rapidly in all directions. He stepped back and kicked the railing. With dawning horror, Ryan realized he was leaning against the railing with the rotted wood.

With no warning, Mrs. Pullman was by Ryan’s side. Though he couldn’t see her, the impression was startlingly clear. There was a faint caress of his face, and the sensation reminded him of the first night his twin appeared outside the window and Mrs. Pullman appeared to chase it away. This time, instead of fear, he felt peace.

Her hand shifted from his face to the top of his head. She was whispering something to him at the same time she was trying to talk with Beaumont. He could only capture portions of it, but was enough to realize that she was praying for him.

“…defend us in battle…be our protection against the wickedness…of the devil…Oh Prince…by the power of God, thrust into hell Satan and all the evil spirits who prowl about the world seeking the ruin of souls.”

Then she was gone, but the warmth of her presence remained.

Beaumont spun back to Ryan. “Your concern over Hugo and Max is touching. Don’t worry, though, I can still make it, I’ve perfected the art of self-preservation.”

As the police cars sped closer, Beaumont again scanned the view over the porch. As he did so, Ryan saw the knife lowered away from Dee’s neck. Amazingly, Dee saw it too. They looked at one another.

Dee, did you see? When it happens again, run…please understand.

“You watch. I can walk out of here. They won’t touch me. You and I will meet again.”

Police cars and emergency vehicles appeared from all directions. Rainwater splashed. Doors swung open, and police officers with guns drawn raced through the gate. Ryan heard Agent Lund behind him somewhere in the house, trying to make it to the porch. He gave instructions about securing the area and setting up sharpshooters.

Beaumont twisted to watch the excitement below. He glanced over Ryan’s shoulder expecting Lund to appear any moment and then back to the activity below.

“Arthur,” Mrs. Pullman called again. The rain pounded the porch roof and the runoff over the gutters was nearly solid. Yet her voice carried. She called again, “Arthur?”

Beaumont’s arm around Dee’s neck loosened, and the knife swung away from her neck.

Dee saw the opportunity.

Ryan yelled, “Now!”

She bolted and was nearly clear of Beaumont’s grasp when he recovered and lunged, grabbing her hair. Dee screamed.

Ryan screamed, “No!” and charged Beaumont. He rammed him as hard as he could in the chest with his shoulder. Ryan flung his arms around Beaumont and continued to push him backwards. Beaumont needed to release Dee in self-defense. Ryan felt white hot pain as the knife in Beaumont’s left hand was pushed into his side. Ryan screamed again but kept pushing in an attempt to escape the blade ripping into him.

They crashed into the railing and Ryan’s forward motion pushed both of them precariously over the barricade. Ryan tried to reverse his course and gain purchase on the porch. He briefly let go of Beaumont as his arms flailed. Then he heard a series of sickening cracks. The railing moved.

Ryan lost his balance and fell forward into Beaumont who screamed in his face, “You can’t!”

The railing shattered and Ryan was flying over the side with Beaumont below him still in his arms. Ryan was dimly aware of screams and chaos, and he barely had enough time to recognize the decorative wrought iron railings surrounding the air conditioning units waiting to greet them when they landed.