Ties That Bind: The Bellum Sisters 3 (paranormal erotic romance) (40 page)

“H-how do you want me to start?”

“Just...at the beginning, mom.” Abby temples pounded against her skull. She pressed two fingers to the spot and rubbed circles as her mother began to tell her the very thing she’d been begging for her whole life. Funny, but she wasn’t relieved or excited to hear it now; not like she’d thought she’d be.

“I met him twenty-six years ago. He was so handsome and charming. There was something about him, old world, you know? Like he came from a different time. I felt something special about him and when he pursued me, I agreed. I realized he was an incubus then. I fell in love with him fast. So fast...”

Abbigail’s chest felt like it was going to explode. “Mom,” she butted in, “can you skip to only the most needed details please?” She couldn’t handle hearing the falling-in-love story of her mother and father. Not right now anyway, when everything felt so raw.

“Oh, okay, anything you want honey.”

The knife in Abbigail’s heart twisted even deeper at her mother’s favorite endearment for her.

“Well, um, I got pregnant. Pretty quickly actually, and, well, I know you know about it from the letter, but it’s still hard to say. He had three daughters already. They were all so precious to him. I mean, he worshipped them. Their mother was his Protector. You know how they are, they get that one person who is sort of like a mate to them and they stay together forever. He loved her. They don’t have to love their Protector but he did--so much.”

Abbigail turned her head to stare at green metal shelf that held cardboard boxes, stacks of printer paper, more paperwork, and a bunch of her mother’s witchcraft knicknacks. She tried to focus on the paper she was looking, to read the words there, but it didn’t distract her enough. She couldn’t remove herself from this situation because she needed to hear this. She just didn’t want to, not really.

“I was afraid, I
knew
, that I could never compete with that. She went missing; she’s probably long dead by now and he never stopped looking for her. He would have treated you different. There’s no way he wouldn’t. He worshipped his kids, honey. God, I’m making a mess of this. But we were different.”

Abbigail finally turned to look at her mother. She had her head buried in two hands, her shoulders sagging forward. She looked much older then, weak. Her mother looked at her, her wet eyes sad, her lips turned down in a frown.

“I was always second. I had no choice but to be that. I didn’t...I couldn’t...” she scrubbed her hands over her face and shook her head as if to get rid of a bad thought. “I’m sure I was wrong, but it’s like...he was holding back something from me so I...so I...”

Oh my god. So that was it, Abby thought. “He held back part of himself from you, so you kept me from him. Talk about petty, mom.”

Anger sliced in her mother’s eyes. “I’m not the only one who’s petty. Who’s made mistakes.”

Her words hit home just like she wanted to. She’d never become a practicing witch like her mother wanted her to. She’d never carry on her mother’s legacy, and yes she actually had a bit of one. And yes she did it just to spite her mother.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both petty, mom.”

Abby stood up but couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes. Her mother started to say something but the phone in Abby’s pocked buzzed.

She took it out and answered it.

“Yeah?” she said. “Got it.” She closed the phone and pocketed it. “I gotta go. A case.”

She left to her mother’s silence and got into her car. That was good. For the best.

Warm air had gathered in the car suffocating her in its heat. She started the engine then rolled down the windows to let in some air. The breeze made her sigh, the tight muscles in her back release. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep from crying.

Chapter Four

Night set by time Abby got home from the lab. The dead shapeshifter case was going to be a hard one for detectives since apparently no one witnessed the crime. Either that, or anyone who witnessed the crime wasn’t coming forward. Some people got scared in situations like this and didn’t want to come forward. Usually in those cases they recognized the killer which may or may not be in their benefit. The knife used to commit the murder still hadn’t been found and until all the blood and evidence was processed nothing could be done. It was a waiting game until they got another hit.

“What a day,” Abby said as she unlocked her front door and stepped into her house. It wasn’t really her house, just a rental but she loved it all the same. It had three bedrooms and two baths and a single-car garage to boot. Going from college dorms to the small apartment she shared with her friend Jenna after college to this was like hitting the lottery.

Her stomach growled; she hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning but her body was so tired she just wanted to pass out and not wake up for a week. She couldn’t do that though, nope. She had to face her problems. She needed to contact her step-sisters.

She wondered: what would they think of her? Would they like her, accept her? She doubted it. She couldn’t say she’d be so agreeable to accept a step-sibling that she didn’t know about until now.  Still, she had to try. As soon as she got some sleep, she’d do some research and find some addresses then track down her sisters. She wasn’t looking forward to it, but a spark of hope filled her that maybe, just maybe, they’d be wonderful. She’d only ever had her mom and no one else. She’d had friends but that wasn’t the same as family. Jenna was always there if she needed her, but they weren’t as close as they’d been while in college.

Abby set her lab bag on the kitchen table, snagged a yogurt out of the fridge and spoon from the kitchen drawer, then headed to the bedroom. She needed to get a pet, a cat or maybe a dog. Something so the house wouldn’t feel so empty every time she got home.

She scrubbed her face and changed into her pajamas as she finished her yogurt and tossed it into the trash bin. She’d just pulled down the comforter, ready to let her exhausted bones rest, when a bang came at a door.

Not a knock, a bang.

She jumped, her heart starting a fierce, hard pounding in her chest. Her hand went to her chest, her eyes flew wide. She checked the clock: ten o’clock. Who the hell would be banging on her door like that? It was the kind of knocking SWAT officers used before breaking down the door when they had a search warrant.

Getting control of herself, Abby opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out her gun. She had a permit for it and she knew how to shoot. The banging persisted.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
It never relented, never paused.

Abby creeped down the hall on the balls of her feet as her heart thundered in time to the knocking. She kept her thumb over the safety on her gun, ready at a moment’s notice to flick it off and use it if necessary.

Just as she reached the door, the banging stopped. She froze, straining to hear something. No whisper of breath, no sound of movement, she only heard the cacophonous thud of her own heartbeat. She breathed as quietly as she could in and out as she tried to slow her racing heart. She was glad the lights were off in the house. Maybe whoever was there would assume she wasn’t home and leave.

Then the banging came again, even harder. She flinched, her hand tightening around her gun, warming the cool metal as the door shook in its sturdy frame. God, whoever it was must be strong. She wished like hell she had a peephole or even a window at the door but she had neither. The nearest front window only showed as much as the driveway. The front of the house blocked the doorway from view.

Only a door stood between her and the person knocking.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Finally finding her voice, she called out in a hard voice, “Who’s there?” Well, she’d tried for a stern voice but it still came out sounding scared, alert.

The knocking stopped as if it never happened. Only a resounding echo and her racing heart showed she wasn’t crazy.

She heard a muffled voice, deep, unintelligible.

“What?” she said, yelling louder through the door. She wasn’t stupid enough to open it. Hell no. Her thumb traced over the small safety lever on the gun, itching to release it.

“Abbigail Krenshaw,” the deep voice said.

Her stomach fell to her knees. Fuck, what did she do now? Somehow this man, it was definitely a masculine voice, knew her name and that scared the shit out of her. She looked around, feeling as if dozens of eyes were watching her, but she didn’t find any only her empty dark house. The green clock from the kitchen stove still lit the kitchen up in a dim glow and nightlights in the hallway and living room were dim but showed enough to see that no one waited to jump her.

“What do you want?”

The voice didn’t answer. All went silent. Abbigail swept her gaze around her house again as if, at any moment, a window would burst and some crazed maniac would jump through her window ready to gut her like the victim she saw this morning.

“Open this door.” It was a command, an order. Abbigail had no intention of answering it.

Instead she slowly raised her gun, her thumb still near the safety and pointed it at the  door as she slowly stepped back towards the kitchen and to her phone.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!
The knocking started again.

Her breath caught at the sound of cracking wood. Her eyes darted around the door trying to see a crack but couldn’t see any broken wood, but she’d heard the crack. He knocked again,  louder, the banging sound ringing in her ears amidst more splintering sounds. God, he’s breaking down the door frame, tearing it out!

She turned and ran to the phone. She faced the door, gun ready as she dialed. Her  fingers slipped in their haste and she had to end the call and try again twice before she got the three digits dialed--911.

“911, what’s your emergency?”

“A man’s trying to break into my house,” Abbigail whispered, but her voice sounded just as panicked as she felt. The knocking continued, never stopping. “Oh my god, do you hear that?”

“What’s your address ma’am?” Abby related it quickly. “Ma’am, get to a back room with a lock on it and lock yourself in there. Stay on the line. Patrol officers are on the way.”

Abby started towards the bedroom then stopped as she felt the cord to her phone pull taut. “I can’t take the phone with me. It’s not wireless.” God, she felt really stupid now. She thought the corded, old-fashioned phone was cute and trendy when she bought it; it was one of those vintage dark yellow ones that hung on the wall.

“Then set the phone down but do not hang up if you can. Patrols will be there shortly.”

No sooner than the operator declared that, the door shook violently.

“He’s kicking it,” she said, part in fear, part in disbelief.

Abby waited no longer. She turned and ran for the bedroom just as she heard the door burst open in an explosion of splintered wood. It bounce off the wall with a resounding crack just as she entered her bedroom, slammed the door closed and flipped the measly turn lock.

Her thumb swept the safety off her gun and she sprinted into her bathroom as another bang came at her bedroom door. No way would that weak wood door last nearly as long as the front door.

She slammed the bathroom door shut, locked it, then moved as far back as she could wedging herself between the toilet and shower. Shaking and scared out of her mind, she raised her gun, index finger poised over the trigger and waited.

BAM! BAM! CRACK!

The bedroom door slammed open. She heard it beat against her nightstand with another blast. She started praying for the police to come. She didn’t want to be another body like the ones she found for a living. Her arms shook. As she looked down the peephole of the black gun, the hole wavered, wobbling around in waves that she tried to steady but couldn’t.

She kept waiting for him to come. Kept waiting to hear the banging on the bathroom door. But it never came. A minute passed. Then another. And another.

A part of her told her to check the door, open it just an inch and peer outside. Maybe he was gone and she had a gun after all. She could shoot if he charged at her, but the smarter part of her mind told her to wait there. Wait for the police. They shouldn’t be that long. After all, she lived close to her job and her job was with the police department.

Sure enough, another minute passed and she could hear the faint howling of sires in the distance. As they got louder, her heart rate slowed, her muscles relaxed, but she never dropped aim no matter how hard her arms shook.

She heard men entering her house.

“Abbigail Krenshaw!” a voice hollered out her name.

She’d never been more relieved to hear another person’s voice in her life. She collapsed against the toilet. “Mike, I’m in the bathroom!” Footsteps bounded in her bedroom but something made her stay in the bathroom. As if she had to be certain it was safe and this wasn’t all some gimmick.

A soft triple knock came at the door. “Abbigail are you all right?”

Mike’s voice was tense, not that she was surprised. He was a sweet guy, a good cop, and she’d probably just scared the shit out of him with her call. She stood on legs that didn’t feel like her own and unlocked the door. She opened it slowly, peering out as she’d wanted to before. She met his dark blue eyes and light head of hair then let the door open all the way.