19. Seraphina
19
SERAPHINA
“MONSTER IN THE CLOSET”
The golden sun is sinking past the horizon by the time I make it to Maggie’s and my apartment. The bruised sky casts elongated shadows across the pavement as I walk toward the door, a searing pain shooting up my calves with each step.
It took several hours just to walk back to the place I had left my bike, then another two to patch it up enough to make it rideable. My entire body is spent, and all I want now is a hug from Maggie and a long, hot shower.
As soon as I push open the door, I’m awarded with the first of my wishes.
“Nina!” Maggie cheers, cutting off my oxygen as her arms tighten around my neck. “I’m so glad you’re home! I was watching the news and they… they found another body!.” She pulls back, her brows creasing as she takes in my sad state. “What happened? You’re shaking like a leaf.”
Images of a man in a plague mask flash in my mind. “I crashed my bike last night—I’m fine, before you start freaking out,” I say. “It was just a bitch and a half to get it running again. I’ll be fine after a hot shower.” And possibly a lobotomy.
Maggie narrows her eyes but still steps back, allowing me inside. I gaze around the apartment, noting the thick layer of dust coating each surface. The coffee I picked up for Maggie the other day is still sitting on the counter untouched, causing a well of worry to open up in the pit of my stomach.
“Anything happen while I was gone?” I ask, trying to keep my tone light. “See any good stuff on TV? Besides the dead body, I mean”
Maggie shakes her head, gazing forlornly toward the uncharacteristically silent screen. “Does it matter? I’ll never see any of it in person.”
Thoughts of a shower are dashed from my mind as I take in Maggie’s expression—noticing for the first time how dim her aura has become. Instead of her usual vibrant pink, the light pulsing from her shoulders has dulled to a pale, dying hue.
“That’s not true, Magoo. We’ll see them one day, I promise?—”
“How could you promise something like that?” She interrupts, her voice a cracked whisper. “How could you, when you’ve known me as long as you have?” She lowers her eyes to the floor. “I’m broken, Nina. Scared of my own shadow, scared of living. I can’t even leave this fucking apartment to get coffee, too scared I’ll have a panic attack, and I?—”
Her voice is cut off as I pull her tight against me. Silent sobs rack her tiny frame, but I just hold her tighter, giving her something—someone—to ground herself to. Just like she’s done for me.
“We’ll figure this out together, Maggo.” I run my hand down her hair in soothing strokes. “If you fear, I’ll be your courage. If you break, I’ll cut my fingers on the pieces to put you back together. And if you’re lost, I’ll follow you into the dark—I will sit by your side and hold your hand until we make it out. Together. Always together.” I rest my forehead against hers. Maggie’s tears slip down her face, only for me to reach out and brush them away. She reminds me so much of her younger self when she cries—her blue eyes big and wide and innocent, but also confused—so confused as to why the world could be so cruel.
It’s Maggie’s one true fault. For all her experiences, all the horrors she’s been through, she will always be too pure to fully understand why.
When her sobs subside, I pull back to look at her, noting the dark circles beneath her eyes. “Did you sleep last night?”
She shakes her head softly, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. “I tried. But I kept having nightmares—that you were gone, and someone was hurting you, and I couldn’t do anything to help you.”
“Oh, Magoo…” I grip her shoulders, staring deep into her watery eyes. “That will never happen.”
“I-I know.” She sniffles. “It’s just my stupid brain.”
“Your brain is anything but that. Unhinged? Yes. Stupid? No. ” I place a kiss on her forehead that makes her giggle. “Come on—let’s get your crazy ass in bed.”
She resists for half a second, then lets me tug her toward her bedroom. I open the door, gesturing her inside with a low bow to the sound of another giggle. She sits squarely on her bed, and I put my hands on my hip with a stern expression.
She rolls her eyes but still lies back on the mattress. I grab a blanket and throw it over her, tucking her into bed like I used to when she was a child.
“You’re too much, you know that?” She laughs, the intoxicating sound growing as I pat her lightly on the head. “I’m not a dog, Nina.”
“No, you’re right—much more like a bird. A shrike, to be exact.” A smile teases my lips as she snuggles deeper under the blanket until only her eyes are peeking out. “Good night, Magoo.”
“Good night, Nina,” she whispers, her eyes already beginning to droop. I pat her fondly on the knee and stand from the bed, careful not to make any noise as I shut the lights off and close her bedroom door.
A yawn tears from my mouth as I stumble toward my own bedroom, though I know sleep is far, far away still. I take a quick shower and hop into bed with a romance book, my trusty dagger nestled snugly on the pillow next to mine.
A few hours pass, my eyes are dry and swollen, and my wrist is cramping from holding the book up, but I still don’t feel like I can sleep. Sighing, I place the book onto my bedside table, switching it for a bottle of sleeping pills I’d bought on the street last year. My insomnia was the worst it’s ever been—so bad, I had started to hallucinate things. Vee’s tincture wasn’t doing shit, and so in desperation, I drove down to the Blue Line district and snagged a bottle of the powerful sedatives off the first dealer I could find.
I’ve taken them sparingly—though they allow me to sleep, I’m not fond of the grogginess I’m left with when I wake. I prefer my mind to be sharp—alert and ready for any threats that could appear.
But I’m so tired…
Sighing, I pour two little white pills into my palm, swallowing them without a drop of water. Unease swirls in my gut as I turn off the light and lie back in bed, closing my eyes against the imposing shadows.
Maybe if I count sheep?
I begin the silly ritual, counting each fluffy white creature as it jumps over a gate made of pure gold. One thousand, two hundred and thirty-seven—that’s how many damn sheep I count before the effects of the sedative take hold.
But once it does, I’m gone.
Cricccckk… crickkkk… cricccckk…
My eyes snap open, followed by a lurch of nausea as the ceiling squirms above my head. My vision is fuzzy, my head heavy and throbbing with the rapid pulse of my heartbeat.
Crrrrick… crrrick…
I sit straight up, clutching the blanket to my chest as the noise rings out once more. I thought I had dreamed it, but…
I hold my breath, listening for the strange scraping noise. Instead, a new tapping sound fills the quiet of my bedroom, freezing the blood in my veins. Snagging the dagger from my pillow, I lurch off the bed, my legs wobbling terribly in an effort to keep me standing.
My fingers tighten around the handle of my dagger as I stoop down, half expecting a monstrous hand to reach out from the shadows beneath my bed. I press my ear to the floor, eyes wide as I search the dark—but there is nothing. I straighten with a frown, holding on to the wall as a fresh wave of dizziness causes my vision to swim.
“Fucking sleeping pills.” I hold the dagger with one hand and the wall with the other as I stumble out of my room.
Quietly as I can, I open the door to Maggie’s room, breathing a heavy sigh of relief when I see she’s still passed out. I creep inside, checking under her bed before doing a thorough sweep of her bathroom and closet. Still nothing.
For a few minutes, I stand in the center of her bedroom, listening for any more strange noises—but it’s eerily quiet.
Too quiet.
Wiping the sweat from my palms, I switch the dagger to my other hand and head back to my bedroom, keeping my ears open and steps silent in case that noise sounds again.
Convincing myself I’ve imagined it all, I dive back under the covers, pulling the quilt up to my chin and shutting my eyes resolutely. The sedative is still coursing through my veins, so I should be able to go back to sleep if I?—
Tap… tap… tap…
“Okay, what the fuck?” I sit straight up as the sound scratches the inside of my skull. This time, I know I haven’t imagined it. This time, I know it’s real.
This time, I know it’s coming from my closet.
I launch myself from the bed, clearing the distance to the exit in one jump. My pulse screams as I rip the door open, scrambling from my bedroom with my dagger clenched in a trembling palm. I lean my back against the door to close it, my chest rising and falling rapidly as I reach down, locking it from the outside.
This cannot be happening.
I shake my head, desperately trying to stave off the fog of the sedative. If someone is in our apartment, then me and Maggie could be in danger.
Maggie…
My eyes dart toward her closed door, a war raging in my mind. If I wake her and tell her about this, she will never feel safe here ever again. There will be nowhere she’ll be able to call home, no place she’ll ever find peace.
I’m not even sure if what I heard was real, or if it was a product of my fucked-up, drug-adled mind. But if it is real… Maggie is in danger.
I can’t call the police. And not even because of the corruption—the Moriton police department is swamped with homicides, drug trafficking, and more—if I called in, asking them to send out someone because I heard a noise in my apartment, they would laugh at me. Which leaves me with one last option.
Not giving myself the chance to rethink it, I rush toward my backpack sitting on the counter, ripping out the crumpled business card Orion had given me. The numbers are bleeding and crinkled, but I’m able to make out the symbols enough to call him.
I dial him on the landline. It rings and rings, and for one heart-wrenching moment, I’m sure he’s not going to pick up.
“Hello?” The low timbre of his voice crackles through the speaker, and my whole body sags with relief. Although, he does sound like he just woke up…
“Hey, it’s… Brandy. I’m sorry for calling you so late.” I cringe when I get a look at the time on the oven clock—3:30 a.m. “Are you busy right now?”
I try to keep my voice even, but for some godforsaken reason, it comes out breathy and uneven. And it’s not even from the fear of thinking I have a stranger in my apartment—something about the husky tone of his voice has done something to me. Something that has my thighs clenching and my blood heating as he speaks.
“Is something wrong?” he asks, far more alert than a moment ago. “Are you okay?”
“I’m okay—I think. I feel stupid for calling. It’s just… I think there’s someone in my house.” The last part comes out barely above a whisper, and my eyes unwittingly jerk to my locked bedroom door. “I heard… something. Could you possibly come over and check it out?”
“I’ll be over right away.” There’s some shuffling in the background—probably him pulling on clothes—and my face heats with embarrassment. I don’t get the chance to apologize, though. “I should be there in ten minutes. Can you hold out till then?”
“Thank you so much, and yes.” I breathe a sigh of relief. I’m about to hang up, when I realize something. “Wait, I… didn’t give you my address.”
An easy laugh rattles through the speaker. “It’s easy enough for me to trace where you’re calling from, Brandy. Landline, right?”
“Uh… yeah,” I murmur. Just how in the hell does he know that?
“Don’t worry, I’m not some crazed stalker.” He laughs, the joyful sound assuaging some of my anxiety. “It’s the sound of it. I can always tell a landline from a cell phone by the clarity of the voice coming through.”
“Oh… Of course.” I force a breathy laugh. “That makes sense.”
“If you’re worried, barricade yourself in the bathroom until I get there. And it never hurts to be holding something to protect yourself with—a kitchen knife, or a screwdriver.”
“Will do.” I gaze down at the dagger in my palm. “I think I have a kitchen knife around here somewhere.”
He laughs, the sound rich and sinful and sending a rush of blood to my center. “See you soon.”
The line goes dead.