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“Chris!”
I sat up in the backseat and stared at the figure standing over me. Damian shifted and pulled the last baby seat from the base.
“We’re home,” he said and disappeared out the side of the van.
I rubbed my eyes and stepped out, welcoming the salty tinge in the air. Naomi had already gone into the house and Damian slipped inside as I closed the car door. The gates were clear of lurking media and I was glad they had deserted their posts. I didn’t want to deal with that type of irritation, not with the foul mood brewing under my skin.
The minute I stepped into the house the level of noise fanned those flames and I gave a nod to everyone in the family room. My gaze lingered on my brother’s and even without the benefit of mind reading, I knew he wasn’t handling our father’s death well. I sent him a nod and escaped into the basement, to our workout area. Specifically, to the punching bag.
I stripped my jacket, tossing it into the corner and approached the bag, allowing the turmoil inside to curl my hands into fists. The first jab felt good, the scrape of the leather across my knuckles, the slight give of the bag, the rattle of the chains, all fueled me and my jabs became full punches, each one more brutal than the last.
Scenes from the past few days snapped off in my mind, each punctuated by my fists connecting with the leather. The faster the mind show, the faster my fists flew, and the more my fury bloomed. My breath labored and I finally let out a warrior cry and slammed my right fist in the center of the target with everything I had. The bag flew across the basement, smashing into the far wall, disintegrating into a puff of Styrofoam.
I stared at the mess and then my gaze dropped to my hands still clenched at the ready. Blood flowed from my knuckles and I loosened my fists, wincing at the first sign of pain now that I wasn’t numb with anger.
“Ah, fuck.” I turned toward the stairs and stopped.
“Finished?” Tom signed from his position at the bottom of the stairs.
“What do you think?” I snapped, dropping my throbbing hands to my side. Warm trails of blood dribbled down my fingers, the sensation distracting and calming at the same time.
“I think you’re just gearing up,” he signed and cocked an eyebrow. “Want to tell me what happened?”
The air went out of my chest and I shook my head. I didn’t want to talk about Sandy and I sure as hell didn’t want to talk about fucking a demon.
“Are you okay?”
I let a bark of a laugh loose. Am I okay, well, that was the fifty-thousand-dollar question and I shrugged. “Are you?”
He looked beyond me at what was left of the punching bag and shook his head. When his eyes found mine, they glistened with an unshed layer of tears.
My laughter faded and I took a closer look, not just at his physical appearance, but his mind as well. The severed head of my father brought back the nightmare he endured in Georgia and I crossed, pulling him into a hug. The kid deserved better than what he had been dealt and while he had shut me out at that time of his life, I was the one who he turned to this time.
“I’m sorry I took off,” I said when the shakes started, I wasn’t sure if it was Tom or me who was trembling, but he was the one crying and holding on like I was the only thing keeping his sanity in check.
Fear radiated from him and without words, I got the litany of nightmares that plagued him these last few nights. Nightmares that he carried alone. Not even Steve had been privy to his sweat-induced terror. Past and present had blended into a carnival of blades and blood, wreaking havoc on everyone he loved.
He couldn’t articulate to Raven, not in any way that communicated the depth of the horrors he faced. It had been years since Georgia haunted him and now it was as if the killer had risen in his nightmares, taking vengeance on him for surviving.
“That’s not the first time Dad lost his head,” I said when the shakes stopped.
Tom pushed me away, his damp face cracking a smile. “You’re sick,” he signed and then mopped his face with his sleeve.
I grinned and looked at the floor. “Yeah, well, sometimes all you need is a well-placed joke.” I glanced up at him.
“Thank you,” he signed. “Now that I’ve unloaded, think you want to tell me what happened with Sandy?”
My smile disappeared and I chose to look at the destroyed punching bag instead of my brother. “She found someone else,” I said and grabbed the broom from the closet under the stairs. I crossed and started sweeping the miniature Styrofoam balls into a neat little pile.
When I looked up, Tom wasn’t there anymore but my flash of irritation was short lived. He trotted down the stairs with the box of garbage bags and another broom. He quietly helped me clean up my mess.
We had the foam cleaned up in no time and I leaned on the broom, staring at the group of full garbage bags and it occurred to me that he had only been dumped once. That travesty had led him to Raven.
“Damian told me everything happens for a reason,” I said and Tom glanced up from tying the last bag.
He bit his lip and sighed before his hands slowly signed. “I used to think that was bullshit,” he started and I could hear the words forming in his head as he signed. “But since I met Raven, I’m not so sure it is.” He shrugged and shoved his hands in his pocket, signaling he didn’t have anything to add for the moment.
His answer surprised me, considering the shit he’s been through. “So, you really think everything is predetermined?”
He shrugged and picked up a couple of bags, waiting for me to follow suit. I grabbed the remaining garbage and headed upstairs, holding the door for him. The murmuring in the kitchen stopped the moment we appeared. All eyes followed us through the house and into the garage and when I stepped back inside, behind Tom, Jennifer crossed her arms, raising her eyebrow at me.
I glanced at my bloody knuckles and then back at her with a shrug. “I’ll live,” I said to her silent scrutiny and crossed to the kitchen sink, turning on the cold water. I glanced at the reflections in the window and sent a warning glare as Steve stepped closer.
“Leave it.” Stinging pain bit at my knuckles as the water washed away the blood, numbing all other sensations floating through me. I pressed my teeth together, not quite clenching, more like grinding them slowly until the water ran clear. After turning the faucet off, I wrapped a sheet of paper towel over each hand, gripping the ends to keep it in place before glancing at Steve and Jennifer. “My knuckles are only skinned, not broken,” I said to Steve. “If they’re bothering me tomorrow, I’ll let you do your magic.”
“Fine,” he replied, raising his hands and stepping away.
“If you’re going to be a stubborn jackass, at least let me bandage them properly,” Jennifer said, grabbing the rarely used first aid kit from under the sink.
I didn’t have much choice in the matter. She grabbed my arm and led me to the table, pointing at the chair. Jennifer peeled the paper towel away, wincing at the raw skin and I glanced beyond Tom at the empty family room.
“Where’s Damian and the rest of the gang?”
“They’re upstairs. Raven’s helping them get settled for the night. I guess they’ll be looking for a house tomorrow,” Jennifer said, dabbing some antibiotic ointment on my wounds.
The cool sensation soothed the sting and buffered the cuts from the scrape of the gauze she wrapped around my knuckles. When she finished, she looked at the patch job and nodded, pushing back her seat and giving me a quick pat on the shoulder.
“That should prevent you from bleeding all over the furniture.”
“Thanks,” I mumbled and my phone buzzed. I dug it out of my pocket and laughed at the name on the display, turning it towards Tom. “Do you remember Jenna?”
His eyebrows rose and he grinned, nodding and meeting my gaze. She was one of the many girls he screwed around with in high school and his grin told me what I wanted to know.
“Why is she texting you?” he signed.
“I changed my relationship status on Facebook last night,” I said, scrolling through the messages on my social networking page for the first time since I changed it. I chuckled at the sheer number of ‘call me’ messages and then I brought up Jenna’s personal invitation.
“Looks like she’s having a party,” I said and met Tom’s gaze again.
Tom glanced at Steve and then signed, “I remember her parties being pretty wild.”
I could use a little wild right now, especially wild with a non-possessed woman. I typed out a response and moments later her address appeared on my screen. I knew the area and I gave Tom a nod. “I’m going out for a bit,” I said to Steve and Jennifer and didn’t wait for them to intercede. I was out of the house and on the road in a matter of minutes.