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At a truck stop a few miles outside East Falls, Mackenzie stopped, taking a minute to get her bearings. Not one thing about what just happened made any sense to her. Why would Taryn and Cray think she and her dad were demons? What the hell was a demon anyway? A real live one from the depths of hell? Or a nickname the mob or whoever he worked for used? She shook her head, unable to make sense of it.
She had planned on driving straight back to LA and forgetting the whole thing but seeing the eagle emblem had stopped her. Taryn was the one who had set fire to the road and caused her to wreck her bike, probably on Cray’s orders, yet neither of them seemed to know who she was. Were they after her because she had asked questions about her dad?
It didn’t make any sense and she wasn’t too eager to go up against them after Taryn’s little magic act. She had to admit he was good, but not good enough to make her believe they were actual demons. That was ludicrous. Says the girl who can summon a psychotic Shadow, she thought, dryly.
She bought a cup of coffee and sat in the back to formulate a plan. Caffeine helped her focus although she was hyperactive enough without it. Her dad was dead, but she still wanted to know what happened to him. Why were they looking for him? And how long before they figured out that she was his daughter? Now that they knew about her, they’d be after her for answers she didn’t have. She had two choices—leave or stay.
Either way, they knew she lived in LA. Better to deal with this now than to have to look over her shoulder at home, wondering when they’d appear.
Back in town she parked her car behind a dumpster near the town hall, Mackenzie found a baseball cap under the back seat from whomever had the car before her. She put it on. It wasn’t much of a disguise but she had to work with what she had.
As she walked the streets she tried to act like she belonged, stopping to look in store windows while keeping an eye out for Cray and Taryn. She checked out the local businesses. If one of them was long standing, then the owner might remember her dad and the fire. In a town this small she was sure most of the businesses were family owned. She tried a hardware store first called Brannigan’s and Son.
The man behind the counter was balding and slightly overweight. His round cheeks were red, his deep set eyes curious. He wore a plaid shirt and an apron with the store name printed on it.
“Can I help you?” he asked.
“Hi, I’m a journalism student from up state.” The lie came easy to her lips. “I’m doing a paper on East Falls’ history and I was looking for information on the fire that happened here twenty years ago.”
He raised an eyebrow, “You’re doing a paper on this town? I can’t tell you much more about the fire than what was in the papers. The owner, Ed, was in the store late one night doing inventory. Apparently, an oil lamp fell and started the fire. The store was full of old furniture so it went up pretty fast.”
“Was Ed the only one in the store? I was speaking to someone earlier who said he had a man staying with him.”
“That Sebastian kid? No, he left town a few days earlier. Strange kid. Didn’t say much to anyone, although he had a soft spot for Annie Murphy. She left town too but I don’t think they left together. Saw her moping around town for a while. I think he broke her heart.”
“Have you ever seen him since?”
“No, I haven’t.”
“Thanks. That will help with my paper.”
“Shouldn’t you write it down?” he asked.
“No, that’s okay. Photographic memory,” she tapped her head.
Outside the store, she paused, thinking over what she’d just learned. So, her dad was gone when the fire started. Gone or dead? Lost in thought she almost didn’t see Cray heading towards her. At the last minute, she caught a glimpse and ducked into a store doorway. Cray passed on by, talking on his cell. She strained to listen to what he was saying but she only caught a few words—‘still looking, more time.’ Looking for what? Her? Something or someone else? Either way she needed to be more careful. She didn’t need another run in with those two.
“Hey kid, no loitering. Buy something or leave,” the owner barked. She could hear a faint Irish accent from him. He put a tray of rolls into the oven behind the counter. Wiping sweat from his brow, he stood by the cash register waiting for her to order.
The smell made her mouth water. Stepping up to the counter she stared at the pastries on display, trying to get her head on straight. A tall woman, with short grey hair, walked out of the back. She glanced at Mackenzie, then did a double take.
“Oh my God,” she gasped, crossing herself. Painfully thin, the woman’s face and care-worn gray eyes revealed years of worry and sadness.
“Mary? What’s wrong?”
“Patrick, look,” she pointed at Mackenzie, “She looks just like Annie.”
“Annie? Annie Murphy?” Mackenzie asked.
“Yes, how do you know Annie?” Mary asked.
“She’s my mother.”
Mary’s eyes widened, “Her daughter?” she looked at her husband, who had gone pale.
“Yes. Who are you?” Well over six feet he stood ramrod straight. With his close-cropped gray hair, Mackenzie guessed a military background.
“Annie’s parents. I guess, your grandparents,” Mary said.
Information overload. Her mother never mentioned grandparents so she just assumed they were dead. Mary came out from behind the counter and hugged her tightly. Patrick still looked shocked.
“Mary, can I speak to you?” he said.
“Look at you. You’re so beautiful,” Mary cooed. Mackenzie smiled uneasily.
“Mary. A word.” Patrick said, sternly.
Mary did as she was told and followed him into the back, giving Mackenzie a chance to catch her breath. She had grandparents. She wasn’t sure how she felt about that. She and her mother had been alone for so long, no family, no connections anywhere that Mackenzie knew about. Her attention went back to the two talking heatedly, heads close together. Patrick didn’t look happy and Mary was trying to calm him down. Finally, they came back out.
“I don’t mean to be rude but do you have any proof that you are Annie’s daughter?” Patrick said.
“I, um, I have a driver’s license with my name on it?” She pulled it out of her jeans and handed it to him. It was all she could think of. He scrutinized it before heaving a sigh.
“She was pregnant when she left town,” he showed the license with her date of birth on it to Mary.
“You knew about me then?” Mackenzie said.
“We haven’t spoken to Annie in a long time, not since she left. We heard rumors that she had a child. Where is she now?” he asked.
“She’s in prison.”
“What?” Mary cried. She noticed that Patrick didn’t look very surprised.
“Why?” he asked.
“She was accused of murder.”
Mary swayed on the spot. Patrick put a hand on her shoulder.
“It was self-defence,” Mackenzie insisted.
“I don’t believe this,” Mary said.
Mackenzie felt closed in, suffocated. She couldn’t deal with this right now. First she learned her dad was probably dead and now to find grandparents she didn’t know existed was more than she could take in.
“I have to go,” she muttered.
She went back to the motel room and locked the door. She put a chair against it for good measure. Lying down on the bed, she tried to process this new development. Grandparents? There could be aunts, uncles, cousins and God knows who else. For all she knew there could be even more family members out there that she didn’t even know about.
Exhausted, she closed her eyes. Maybe it was the fight. Or she had a concussion from head butting Taryn. There had to be some explanation for all this confusion—this strangeness. A brain tumor that Taryn had shook loose? Some kind of drug someone had slipped her? She put her hands over her eyes. Could it be the town itself? Whatever it was, she was in over her head.
When she woke up it was dark outside. She shook the cramp out of her arm and stretching she sat up to find a message had been left for her on the wall. Or rather burnt into it.
Get out of town.
Subtle. Also, worrying considering the chair was still in place. With cautious steps, she checked each window to find them securely locked. So, whoever burnt the message in the wall got in some other way.
Her eyes searched the room. Her bag was where she’d left it on the back of the chair. Crossing the floor, she grabbed it up and pawed through it. Everything seemed to be there, including her switchblade.
It was after nine o’clock and she considered going back to see her grandparents, but it was obvious Patrick didn’t want her there. All these years and he hadn’t bothered to check on his daughter, to see that she was all right or to make amends. What kind of father would turn his back on a child—even a grown one—when he knew she was pregnant and in trouble? Yet neither grandparent ever tried to see Mackenzie. She drug her thoughts away from them. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t miss what she never had and now was not the time to try for any kind of relationship.
Right now, she needed to speak to her mother. In the morning she would phone the prison to get some answers, for now she didn’t want to stay in this motel room. She grabbed her stuff and went out to her car. Driving out of town, she pulled into a lay-by for the night.