Chapter 16 #2
"Teddy?" I knocked softly, pressing my ear to the door. Silence answered me—wrong, too complete, like the absence of a heartbeat. I pushed the door open carefully.
The room was empty. The window stood open, curtains billowing in the breeze.
"Teddy?" My voice pitched higher, panic clawing at my throat. I rushed to the window and looked out into the gathering dusk. "Teddy!"
I ran back into the living room, nearly tripping over my own feet. "He's gone! He climbed out the window!"
Mei was already grabbing her comm. "I'll contact Cristox. He’s on his way back—that's what I came to tell you. You go look for Teddy. I'll grab Bartholemeus, and we'll help."
I bolted out the door before she finished speaking, my heart hammering against my ribs.
The backyard was empty. The narrow alley between houses stretched into shadow, deserted. My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird desperate to escape.
The street blurred past me as I ran, checking every corner, every doorway, every shadowed space where a small boy might hide.
But he wasn't hiding. He was running. Running from me.
"Teddy!" My voice cracked, raw and desperate. A neighbor looked up from her garden, startled. "Have you seen my son? Have you seen Teddy?"
She shook her head, and I kept running.
The late afternoon sun slanted through the buildings, casting long shadows that seemed to reach for me with grasping fingers. Every darkened doorway became a threat. Every empty street a nightmare. My breath came in ragged gasps, my lungs burning, but I couldn't stop. Wouldn't stop.
Craig. Clemon. Dead. Both dead.
And now Teddy was out there somewhere, alone and hurting, in a town where people were dying.
Terror seized me with icy claws, squeezing my chest until I could barely breathe. Images flashed through my mind—Teddy lying hurt somewhere, crying for me. Teddy taken by whoever had killed Craig and Clemon. Teddy's small body discarded like theirs had been.
"No," I whispered, then louder. "No. No. No."
I turned down another street, my eyes scanning frantically. The market square was emptying, vendors packing up their stalls. I grabbed the nearest person by the arm—Mrs. Danvers, who sold fabric.
"My son," I panted. "Teddy, have you seen him?"
"Ruby—"
"Have you seen him?" I was screaming now, shaking her.
"No, no, I haven't. I'm sorry."
I released her and kept searching, kept calling Teddy's name until my voice went hoarse. The sun dipped lower, painting the sky in shades of amber and blood. Darkness was coming. Darkness where monsters lived and children disappeared.
My baby was out there alone. And it was all my fault.
Please, I prayed as I ran, my feet pounding against the pavement. Please let him be safe. Please let me find him.
The light was fading fast, shadows stretching long and sinister across the street. My lungs burned, but I didn't slow down. Every second that passed was another second Teddy was out there alone, hurt and angry and vulnerable.
I stumbled to a halt in the middle of the street, pressing my hands to my temples as I forced myself to think. To breathe. Panic wouldn't help Teddy. Panic would only make this worse.
Where would he go?
The question echoed through my mind as I tried to calm my racing heart. When Teddy was upset, where did he seek comfort? I'd taught him from the time he could walk—if you're scared, go home. Always go home.
My breath hitched as I remembered the place that represented home in those lessons.
The bakery. Our old apartment.
My feet were moving before the thought fully formed, carrying me through the winding streets toward the charred remains of what had once been our sanctuary.
The acrid smell of smoke still lingered in the air, weeks later, a permanent reminder of loss.
As I rounded the corner, the blackened skeleton of the building came into view, its windows like hollow eyes staring out at nothing.
My heart clenched at the sight. The charred beams jutting up like broken bones, the collapsed walls, the scattered debris that had once been my livelihood, my dream.
I'd never be able to look at that spot without seeing Craig's body, without remembering the acrid smell of smoke and death and the terror of nearly losing my son.
I tore my gaze away and ran across the street, scanning the park. "Teddy!" My voice cracked, raw with fear. "Teddy, sweetheart, where are you?"
In daylight, it was a cheerful place, filled with children's laughter and the rustle of leaves.
But now, as twilight bled into night, it transformed into something else entirely.
The swings hung motionless, their chains creaking softly in the breeze like whispered warnings.
The slide loomed dark and skeletal against the dying light.
Shadows pooled beneath the benches, thick and impenetrable, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something might be crouched there, watching.
"Teddy?" My voice came out stunted by fear, swallowed by the gathering darkness.
I moved deeper into the park, my footsteps crunching on the gravel path.
Every shadow seemed to shift and breathe.
The ancient oak tree at the center stood like a gnarled sentinel, its twisted branches reaching toward the sky like grasping fingers.
In the fading light, the spaces between its roots looked like gaping mouths.
This place that had always felt safe now felt menacing, as if the darkness had changed its very nature. Or perhaps it had always been this way at night, and I'd simply never noticed. Never had reason to be here when the sun abandoned the sky and left only fear behind.
My heart hammered against my ribs as I circled the oak, peering into every shadow, every dark corner where a small boy might hide—or where something else might lurk.
"Teddy!" I called again, louder this time, my voice echoing in the empty space.
Then I heard it—a soft snuffling sound, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. I froze, listening intently. There it was again, coming from near the far edge of the park from behind the climbing rock.
I ran toward it, my breath coming in ragged gasps. "Teddy?"
A small figure huddled behind the massive boulder, knees pulled up to his chest. Relief flooded through me so intensely that I nearly collapsed.
"Teddy!" I dropped to my knees beside him, and he launched himself into my arms, his small body trembling violently. His face was wet with tears, his breath coming in hitching gasps.
"Mama," he sobbed against my shoulder, his fingers digging into my shirt.
"I'm here, baby. I'm here." I held him tight, one hand cradling the back of his head, the other wrapped protectively around his small frame. "You're safe now. I've got you."
But as I held him, I realized something was wrong. This wasn't the anger I'd expected, or even the pain from our earlier confrontation. This was fear—raw, genuine terror.
"Teddy, what's wrong?" I pulled back just enough to look at his face, brushing the tears from his cheeks. "What happened?"
His eyes were wide, darting toward the ruins of the bakery across the street. "The bad man," he whispered, his voice shaking. "The bad man at the bakery scared me."
Ice flooded my veins. I looked up, scanning the rubble, the street, the darkening shadows. "What bad man? Teddy, who did you see?"
The area appeared empty. No movement among the debris. No figures lurking in the growing darkness. Just the skeletal remains of my bakery and the lengthening shadows as day surrendered to night.
I looked back at my son and pulled him close again, my arms a fortress around his small body. "It's okay. You're safe now. I won't let anyone hurt you."
But even as I spoke the words, unease prickled down my spine. Someone had frightened my child. Maybe it was Farris Clegg. Maybe that bitch Charlene. I was seriously going to kick her ass.
A shadow moved at the edge of the street, tall and broad-shouldered. At first glance my heart leapt—Cristox! Relief flooded through me for one precious moment.
But as the figure stepped into the dim street light, ice crystallized in my veins.
Not Cristox.
Charlene's brother emerged from the shadows, his enormous frame unmistakable even in the fading dusk.
He had to be six-five, maybe two-fifty, all broad shoulders and thick arms. I'd seen him around town plenty of times, usually trailing after his sister like a loyal puppy, a vacant expression on his face.
I knew he'd suffered some kind of injury that left him mentally incapacitated.
"Peanut?" I called out. "What are you doing out here?
" If Charlene was scaring my son, it stood to reason Peanut would be nearby.
The one decent thing I knew about Charlene was that she was fiercely protective of her brother.
She barely let him out of her sight. Yet as my gaze swept the area, I caught no sight of her.
What the hell was he doing out here alone?
Peanut didn't answer, just kept walking toward us with that slightly uneven gait of his, one foot dragging just a little.
Teddy's small body went rigid in my arms, every muscle tensing.
"That's him," he whispered, his voice high and tight with fear. "That's the bad man, Mama."
My blood turned to ice. "What? Teddy, no—that's just Peanut. He's harmless, baby. He wouldn't—"
But Teddy was shaking his head frantically, pressing himself against me, trying to make himself smaller. "No, Mama. That's him. That's the bad man. He tried to grab me."
Peanut kept coming, his face blank in the shadows, his heavy footsteps echoing with a steady, inexorable rhythm.
And suddenly, nothing about this felt harmless at all.
I stood slowly, keeping Teddy behind me, one hand pressed protectively against his small chest. My heart hammered against my ribs, but I forced my voice to stay steady. "Peanut, you scared us half to death. You need to go home now. Your sister's probably worried sick about you."