I'll Be Damned (Anna Wolfe Series) (10 page)

“How about you get out of here and go rent it, grab some pickies at the store too. Then we’ll meet back at the house?” I propose, with the most confident smile I have. She rests her elbows on the counter, interlacing her fingers while contemplating my suggestion. Her squinty eyes fill with suspicion.

“Fine, but please come home right after work. I don’t want to be worried again,” she replies nervously. “Anything in particular you want to eat?”

“Nah, anything will do. I just want to be a zombie tonight.”

She sighs in agreement. “See you soon,” she says, wrapping me in a hug and kissing my cheek. 

An unpleasant feeling rises inside of me. Janie and I were never affectionate sisters. It was more like a punch on the arm to show our love for one another. I push that feeling away as I watch Janie scramble out the door. After pouring myself a glass of ice-cold water, I sit on the couch facing the window. I scan through the mountain of rubbish-filled gossip magazines, specifically designed for brain cell assassination. I don’t mind sometimes, when I need a break from the real world. I snatch an
Us Weekly
from the top and rummage through the colorful pages of drunken, classless celebrities. I can't help it, these publications are a guilty indulgence.

“Anna?” a man’s voice asks.

Startled, I drop the magazine and glance up. Shane is casually standing in the doorway, staring at me and waiting for an invite in. He’s the absolute last person I want to deal with right now. I inspect the shop out of sheer instinct, realizing I’m alone. I glance past him to the front door. I didn't even hear him come in. Looking at the clock, I notice its nine-thirty. Where did the time go? I force a smile, not wanting to be impolite or jeopardize my safety.

“Hi,” I respond indifferently. Maybe he’ll get the hint.

“I’m sorry about the other night… I… I didn’t mean to seem pushy or frighten you,” he says coolly. “I just have difficulty talking to women.”

His apology is warranted, but his sincerity is forced. He has a certain assertiveness about him tonight. He’s nervous, but confident in a twisted way. “It's okay. I was having a bad day… well a couple of bad days and was quick to snap,” I answer.

“Do you mind?” he asks, pointing to the couch across from me.

“Um, not at all.”

He steps over the threshold and takes a seat directly across from me. This is awkward. A sensation of safety and genuine appeal infiltrates my brain, killing all negative thoughts of him. This abnormal sensation worries me since I don’t know how to stop it.

“I hope you don’t mind, my feet are killing me. I went for a six-mile jog today, hoping to familiarize myself with the city. I can’t believe all of the beauty here. The homes are filled with immense character and unrivaled prestige...”

Shane's words tangle in my head as soon as my eyes catch the appearance of a figure out front. It’s him, my stunning visitor from the other day. Instantly, my breath catches in my throat the moment I rest my eyes on his ice-blue irises. He glides past the window, donning an irritated expression. I try to ignore how ginormous his arms are in his tight black shirt, and how his form fitting jeans kiss his toned butt with each step. My mouth gapes as foreign physical sensations send a current through me. His penetrating stare triggers tingles all over my body. My heart’s slow rhythm turns into a heavy thudding, stripping all thoughts from my mind. A smirk escapes from the corner of his mouth before he disappears behind the wall. My first impulse is to chase after him and demand an explanation. I know there’s something going on… something uncontrollable and I need to know what. The next time I see him, I’ll approach him. Yes, that’s what I’ll do. I’d never be able to speak three words to him, but lying to myself helps me feel less defenseless.

Shane's voice trudges back into my head, “…I think my favorite area is the Victorian district. It’s old world gorgeous. What do you think?”

I can’t believe he’s still talking. I rehearse my replies as quickly as possible. I don’t want him to notice my severe lack of attention. He mentioned something about Victorians. “Um, yes. The Victorian homes are gorgeous,” I say, absolutely disinterested. “I can’t believe you ran in this heat. I swear it’s hotter than hell.”

A sneer crosses his face. “I adore the warmth, and if I were to take one guess, I’d bet hell is hotter," he answers delightedly, leaning back on the couch too comfortably. "What time do you close tonight?”

I bite the corner of my lip. “Ten o’clock.”

“Would you like to grab a drink or dinner afterwards?” he asks boldly.

Thank God I already have plans or I would have been trapped. I’m a pretty bad liar. “Actually, I have a sisters’ movie night planned.”

“That sounds like fun. Everyone needs time with their families. How does tomorrow night sound?” 

His response is too automated. What’s with this dude? One minute, he seems like a standard, misunderstood guy; then the next, he’s creepy. “Um… I’m not sure I can,” I respond unenthusiastically with a frown to match. Shane leans forward, pushing a wall of air towards me. The hair on my skin stands straight up as if a chill sprinted across it. I glance down in slow motion, watching the hairs wiggle in the invisible breeze. What's going on? I glance back at Shane, who’s now grinning like a wolf. Another surge of comfort showers over me, making me feel at ease.

“Anna, would you like to go to dinner tomorrow night?” he asks again.

This time I have no qualms. In fact, I
want
to go to dinner. After all, he's extremely handsome and I’m almost positive he doesn’t want to kill me… not yet anyway. Why not have a little fun? It might help take my mind off other things. I nod my head yes.

“How is seven p.m.?”

“Seven is good,” I answer.

“I’ll meet you here,” he says, standing. 

He walks over to me, sliding his hand in mine. He lifts it to his mouth, planting a delicate kiss on it before walking out. I feel taken aback by his gesture. Normally, I'm not in favor of people invading my personal space, but just like that, he did and I allowed it. Maybe dinner won’t be as bad as I expect. 

Entering my home after my dazed travel, I vaguely remember what transpired between Shane and me. I know I'm going to dinner with him. My reasoning is fighting its way to the front, but unsuccessfully. I stroll into the family room, surprised to see Janie still awake. "Hey,” I say, stepping in and dropping my purse on the floor before collapsing on the opposite end of the couch. I plump one of my throw pillows, gently coaxing it to do its job and provide support. 

“Finally,” she responds exaggeratedly. “I was ready to fall asleep. There’s only so much Lucy and Ricky I can take.”

I squirm deeper into the couch, manipulating my body to lean on its side. “Guess what happened?” I ask.

“What?” she replies, narrowing her guarded eyes.

“Ten minutes after you left… Shane… the guy I met the other night with Kristy, came into the shop,” I answer.

“And?”

“He apologized for acting too forward,” I say, waiting. Janie gives me the
okay continue
look. “Then he asked me on a date.”

“Wait,” she responds, holding her hand up. “He apologized, then asked you on a date?”

“Pretty much. The whole incident was bizarre. It was like he made me want to,” I say, still puzzled. I deliberately leave out the part when my good-looking visitor graced me with his presence. I feel protective over him, like a dirty, little secret.

“Are you’re sure he isn't a weirdo?” Janie inquires. “You do remember he was creepy, right?”

I laugh. “He doesn’t seem like the
stalk-and-kill-you
type.” Janie can be so cynical sometimes.  

“Anna, they never do. Remember Ted Bundy?" she says, wagging her finger at me. "I guess it will be okay,” she adds in an unconvinced tone.

I grunt at her verbal permission slip. "I’m not anticipating anything. He wants to talk about how he knows me,” I reply in air quotes.

Janie sighs, noticeably unhappy. “Just promise you’ll be careful?” she begs.

“Janie, I promise,” I reply, irritated. “How about that movie?” I say, standing up.

“I don’t know,” she says in a small voice. “I’m kind of worn out. Do you mind if we watch it another night?”

I shake my head. “Nope. I’m pretty beat too.”

We say our goodnights and Janie flees to her room. Rather than going to sleep, I have an overwhelming need for some fresh air. I pull a black zip-up sweatshirt from the closet next to the front door before stepping out on my porch. An odd coolness hangs in the air, biting right through my sweatshirt. I plop on the porch swing, flipping my legs up so I can lie down and soak in the nighttime splendor. The air is secretively still, seemingly aware of what’s in store for tomorrow. Sounds of crickets and bullfrogs sing in compatible harmony and their melodies tickle my ear. I rest my head on the back of the swing and take a long, deep breath. I exhale, feeling my muscles relax as the weight of my body gradually molds into the cushions beneath me. The grayish moon hangs high, casting a pale silver light on the world below. Radiant stars twinkle in the night sky like Christmas lights. I can sit here and swing the rest of my life away. I rock silently, appreciating all of the sensations I feel around me. I close my eyes, listening as nature serenades me. My muscles in my legs begin twitching, which is perfectly normal. I shake them, thinking they might need more blood flow. That doesn't work. The twitching morphs into constriction and my ligaments stretch and contort into a Charlie Horse. The pain is worse than normal, crippling me. I slide my knees up to my chest and get into fetal position. Breathing becomes a challenge when another sharp pain strikes my body. I want to hold my breath to lessen the pain.
Breathe, Anna… in, then out… in, then out
…I chant this repeatedly, anxiously awaiting the relief that typically follows, but tonight it is running late.

My eyes pop open when the noise of crunching leaves disturbs the air. I jolt upward, glancing towards the sound with squinted eyes. My vision focuses, diligently looking for a small squirrel or rabbit, but nothing moves. The pain is long forgotten, thanks to the adrenaline numbing it. I rest my hand on top of the swing, squeezing it in dread. It came from the live oak to my right. I could almost reach out and touch its trunk if my arms were longer. Another close crackling sound resonates through the air. Someone or something stepped onto a pile of dried twigs. My concentration is further distracted when I catch a flicker of movement from the corner of my eye. It’s too dark to see what it is, but I'm sure of one thing… it's big. The hairs on my arm stand up as the gooseflesh puckers my skin. Dreading my next move, I hesitate. Fear can work as a horrible paralyzer or a great catalyst, and I don’t know which one I will channel just yet. The cramping resumes, only this time, in less painful intervals. I can feel it staring at me, and its gaze scorches my skin with a fiery tingle. I need to act fast if I’m going to get out of here unscathed. In one swift shove, I stand up and sprint for the door. Rushing in, I lock the deadbolt behind me. My heart is thumping in my throat, unwilling to settle down. I dash into Janie's room, quietly flying from window to window, drawing the curtains and securing the locks. I race through the remaining rooms of my house, securing all points of entry, and finish up in the pitch-black of my bedroom. Hiding in the shadows is a smart idea. My heart returns to its steady pace and my muscles become normal again. Maybe it’s gone. I try recalling what I saw in more detail, but my freshly traumatized brain refuses to cooperate. Cautiously, I tiptoe to the window overlooking the front yard. I pull the white curtain aside just enough to steal a quick glimpse. I reluctantly look in the direction of the trees, watching their branches shake violently. Squinting harder, I struggle to see what’s hiding behind it.

Finally, it trudges out from the cover of the trees and reveals itself. So much for that, all I can see is a silhouette. It’s abnormally tall and slightly hunched forward. Leisurely, it walks toward me, watching me the entire time. I’m not sure if it can see me, but I’m not moving. It stops on a patch of grass illuminated by moonlight, which exposes its grotesque winged form. An eerily familiar image of a huge bat flashes into my mind. Not just any bat, but the very bat from my nightmare now stands on my front lawn, taunting me. Its skin is the color of soot, covered in slick oil, which swallows any light on contact. Red, beady eyes, glazed with loathing, stare down its elongated snout, all covered in spikes. Holy shit! Is this really happening right now? Am I dreaming? Can this actually exist? The creature lifts one of its leathery webbed wings, pointing its serrated talons at me. Shivering all over, the panicked breath in my throat is trapped. A nightmare I thought never existed is staring me right in the face, shredding my reality. Am I going crazy? Is this how a nervous breakdown starts? A whooshing sound snaps me be back to the present. I will worry about my sanity later. The monster flaps its wings, gaining more altitude with each stroke. As a whole, the creature quite resembles a small aircraft. I grip the curtains firmly, knowing a thing that big could easily rip the roof off my house. My natural survival instincts abandon me. But as I recall, there’s no chapter on surviving an encounter with an extra-large, bat-like creature from hell.