Fighting Midnight: Ankarrah Chronicles Book Two: A Paranormal Urban Fantasy Read online

  At first, only oily black emerges. I can almost smell the stench. Rivers of hate, anger, greed, and power-hunger surge from inside him, bursting to the surface like geysers.

  As his Spectrum flickers, the palest ribbons of color ooze and seep from the depths of him. His body crashes to its knees before sliding to the floor like a skin sack, like he no longer has any bones to hold him upright.

  “He promised me you.” Whittier’s words flash across my mind.

  “I wasn’t his to promise,” I answer him out loud.

  Between one blink and the next, my vision is back to normal, and I’m standing on the floor once again. Whittier’s body is now literal ash. The pale dust drifts into the puddles of standing blood by the air coming in the front door.

  I can’t say I’m upset that he’s gone.

  I’ve got a great Dyson vacuum.

  03

  “POLICE! FREEZE! NOBODY MOVE! NOBODY FUCKING MOVE!”

  The group stuck in my yard shout as they cross the threshold, their guns outstretched. They look petrified. One of them looks like he’s about to wet his pants.

  At my feet, Richardson twitches, like a robot completing a reboot, her limbs jerk and her neck spasms causing her head to jolt back and forth. Drawing the attention of the skittish police officers, she rolls out of the way just in time. A bullet rips through the floor, millimeters from where her head was.

  Popping to her feet like she’s got springs in her legs, her gun is out and pointed at the officers. Her shout explodes in the silence following the discharged gun, “Homeland Security!” She flashes her badge at the two terrified officers. “Lower your weapons! Right now, damn it.”

  No one moves.

  “NOW!”

  Slowly, all weapons point at the floor. The face of the officer who got the shot off looks like he’s about to boot his lunch. He holsters his weapon and darts out the door. The sound of retching filters through the open doorway. His partner, a man who looks like he’s seen everything at least twice, flashes a put-upon grimace right before he steps out to check on his younger partner.

  “Now that I have your attention, what in the bowels of hell is going on in here?” Richardson sweeps her hand to encompass the red-splotched room while she holsters her gun with her other.

  “We came home to this,” I answer. “Well, we added the sheets.” I nod at the shrouded lump closest to her. “You’re welcome to take a look.”

  “What happened to Whittier?” she asks as she turns around.

  I angle my chin at the pile of scattered ashes sweeping across the floor in the breeze from the open door. “He’s there.”

  Everyone turns to look, but they’re all looking too high—obviously they didn’t see me evaporate the douche-canoe.

  Richardson turns to me again. “I don’t see him.”

  Eyeing the door and the two officers on the porch, I gesture everyone over to me. Keeping my voice low, I whisper, “Somehow I vaporized him. See that slight pile of ash on the floor?” They all turn to look where I’m pointing. “That’s what’s left of him.”

  Brian snorts. “Come on, Finley-babe. I’ll admit you’ve got mad skills, but I don’t think you have laser-vision.”

  I just look at him.

  “Seriously? Finley-babe’s as good as Cyclops.” He chuckles to himself. He loves all things Super Hero.

  I nod. I won’t feel bad about it. Not about saving myself or saving my family. Not this time.

  Richardson backs up a couple of inches, her eyes wide. Tipping her head back towards the ceiling, her arms come up to hug herself.

  “What? How?” Brent, Brian’s brother and Josh’s cousin, manages to get some words out in between shakes of his dark blonde head.

  “He kept saying crazy stuff, like someone named Rangerson had promised Whittier that he could have me.”

  Hunter and Josh begin cursing enough to make a sailor blush. Brian’s face is so red, steam is about to whistle from his ears.

  “Why?” Brent asks again. Always the lawyer, wanting more information.

  “I have no idea. But I killed him in the same way I figured out that Anixia is the one who killed…,” I shake my head, “who killed…Mom and Dad.”

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Richardson’s head snap down. Her hands are now fisted on her hips, her eyes swirling colors of autumn. “Your parents are the ones covered in this room?” Her horrified words barely reach my ears.

  Deep in her eyes, I can see sympathy. I wonder if this is how she felt when her sister was ripped from her because of the DHS putting together the Super Teams.

  Nodding, I just stand there.

  Her arms are crossed over her middle. She clears her throat, “You said you ashed Whittier the same way you found out that this A-person killed your parents. What does that mean exactly?”

  A piece of me breaks at the matter-of-fact tone of voice she uses to describe what happened to my parents. I’m just glad her voice isn’t dripping with sympathy and pity.

  I give Richardson and the guys a really brief rundown on what happened. Their facial expressions range from surprised to murderous, with small stops for pride and faint jealousy.

  “I know it’s irrational, but I’m a little pissed that his ashes are mixing in with the blood of my parents. Nothing of him should contaminate any part of them. Even if they are gone.”

  I pull away.

  “I’ll be right back.” I step away from the small group. They’re all just standing there watching me. I move to the hall closet and get my Dyson vacuum. Turning it on, I suck up the remainder of the loose ashes of Whittier’s body.

  I take a couple of steps to get to the second bathroom, and empty the dust trap into the toilet. Hitting the lever, I smile as the rest of that asshole’s body gets flushed down the toilet. “Even that’s too good for you.”

  I turn. Hunter’s smile is a breathtaking. “Feel better?”

  “Some. Although, I’d feel even better had I had to drop a deuce on him first.” Hunter’s laugh booms into the small room, momentarily lifting my heart once again. Taking his outstretched hand, I follow him down the short hallway back into the living room.

  The officers are back inside, both talking on their phones quietly near the open door. Richardson waves us over. “We got the call that you’d been questioned by the police. That’s why we’re here at all. Your name was flagged in our system. Whittier knew you were lying about your abilities. He’s gotten even worse since we met you in the hospital.” She sighs.

  “Something set him off in the last two weeks. He’s been muttering to himself, talking about Rangerson—who I’ve never heard of. Some of the teams DHS is putting together have been mobilized. I heard through a contact that a single 23er team took out an entire regime down in South America.”

  Brent opens his mouth.

  Richardson slashes at the air. “No, I can’t tell you anymore. Just know that the U.S. government is getting serious about rounding up people with the ANK-23 gene marker. If you don’t want to join, and I hope our last conversation and today’s fiasco have helped cement that decision, I suggest you stay under the radar. You know, like I told you last time.” She stares at me, her face hard and drawn.

  “Now, I’m going to take over this crime scene. No one,” she glares at Brent, “says anything.”

  Brent holds his hands up in the air, a smirk curling the corner of his mouth.

  04

  We’re all sequestered in my bedroom while waiting for Richardson’s DHS team to finish in the house, with a terse, “I’ll keep DHS off your back for now. But for God’s sake, under the radar, Finley.” She stabs a finger in my direction. “Under the damn radar,” she whispers.

  I prefer her yelling. I shake off the unease the settles over my shoulders.

  Now, she’s out there directing traffic and barking orders. Some of her barks filter to the back of the house. She sounds like general on an active battle field of old. I’m glad she’s on my side.

  We spra
wl around the room. Hunter and I cuddle against the headboard together. Josh sits on my vanity’s chair, with Brian and Brent sitting next to each other on the floor.

  “So explain who this Anixia person is,” Brent demands. “And why did she kill Alice and George?”

  “Ouch! Bro, what the hell, man?” Brent rubs the shoulder his brother just punched.

  “Sensitivity much, douche?” Brian just glares at him again.

  I love these guys.

  “Anixia says she’s my birth mother,” I say.

  “You found your birth mother at the FBI?” Josh asks, his face screwed up in confusion.

  “No. We somehow got taken to Ankarrah.” I hold up my hand to stop the next question. “Ankarrah is Earth-adjacent. Meaning it’s on a whole different world in the Multi-Verse.” I shrug my shoulders. “I still don’t buy that we were in a different universe, but the ‘Beam me up, Scotty’ ride home did go a decent way to making that case.”

  Hunter nods.

  All three Hastings men look gobsmacked.

  “Not to mention Keziry, Brockten, and Drake all grew over ten inches right in front of our eyes,” Hunter adds.

  “And the telepathy that’s apparently pretty normal there.” I point at him. The boys are still looking dazed and confused.

  “All right, all right, all right.” Brent holds his hands up in surrender. “Wait. Start at the beginning.” He takes out his phone and looks up at me, his thumbs poised to take notes of our conversation.

  “Hunter and I showed up at the KC FBI field office. Remember, I called you, Brent? About the interview tape with Scarsman and Lockwood. Whatever happened with that by the way?”

  Brent shakes his head. “You finish first,” he says witout looking up from his phone, his thumbs moving like lightning.

  I huff out a breath at him. “Fine. Hunter and I made our way to the basement with Scarsman. We passed through a blue net thingy. Hunter almost died.” I shudder, remembering. “I fixed him and passed out. He found me in a nebula that turned out to be the Psy-Matrix. When we woke up and made it back to our bodies, we were… met by a small girl who looked like she was about thirteen years old. Well, at least her body did. Her eyes looked ancient.” I look at Hunter. He nods.

  “She kept answering questions that I hadn’t actually asked and making statements based on what I was thinking. She introduced herself as Anixia and stated that I could call her mother.”

  Brian and Josh both snort at that.

  I point at them. “Exactly. I had some names for her, but they were everything but maternal.”

  “She left at one point.” Hunter picks up the story. He looks at me, heat in his eyes. “Finley and I got reacquainted.”

  All the Hastings men glare at him. I muffle a laugh as he continues, “Anyways, we were interrupted when this woman comes in. As tall as Finley and says that because Finley didn’t like her previous form, she decided that this one would put Finley more at ease.”

  “Who was it?” Josh asks.

  “Anixia,” Hunter and I respond in unison.

  “I was freaking out,” I admit.

  “I was busy calling her all kinds of names and talking about her in my head. She, Anixia, said that she could hear thoughts, that it was commonplace on Ankarrah. Either she’s a great actress, or she couldn’t read my thoughts. Anyways, she disappeared again after telling Finley and me that we would be staying in Ankarrah. I got the impression that she meant forever.” He looks at me.

  “That was the impression I got as well. We managed to get out of the cleaning closet, and ended up in this hallway that never ended. Although, to be honest, they have great hallways. The walls look and move like screensavers. It was fascinating to watch,” I say.

  “This is while we were busy trying to outrun sirens from nowhere, and find someone to actually help us. We ended up in huge room, roughly the size of a football field and met our rescuers: Keziry, Brockten, and Drake the Douche.” Hunter growls the last name.

  I pat his leg, and pick up the story again, “Before we got to escape though, we ran into a gigantic monster. Seriously, the Hollywood guys here could make a mint if they ever came up with this kind of alien monster.” I shudder. “So Keziry, Brockten, and Drake are all House Guards. They kicked alien monster patootie like it was a simple, every day Tuesday. Just dart into danger, handle their business, and then off for a latte. It was amazing.”

  “We’re all standing around, the natives interrogating us,” Hunter continues. “Keziry asks Finley if all humans are as tall as we are. Finley, ever the diplomat, asks if all Ankarrahi are as short as they are. Keziry smirks, closes her eyes, and grows ten inches. Right in front of our eyes. Brockten and Drake do the same, but a couple inches taller than me. So they grew more than just ten inches. It was surreal.” Hunter shakes his head.

  “Is this Keziry a male or female?” Brian asks.

  “Female,” I answer.

  “Nice,” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

  “Get your head out of the gutter.” Brent smacks him in the shoulder.

  “Oh please. Like you’re not interested in a woman as tall as our Finley-babe, and who can kick serious alien monster butt? I can recommend a great therapist for your denial issues,” Brian taunts.

  “After the growth spurts, we told them that we met Anixia. You’d think we had told them that Armageddon was on the horizon. All three of them looked like we’d stomped on their pets, their faces fell so fast. I didn’t want to get killed by association, so I didn’t say anything about my connection to Anixia.”

  “I asked why seeing Anixia was so bad,” Hunter explains. “Apparently, Anixia and Hitler would have gotten along great. According to the three natives, Anixia’s killed millions of blonde babies. All of them. For over five hundred years.”

  “Oh, and there’s a prophecy about Maybe Mommy,” I pipe up.

  Josh just nods. “What’s the prophecy say?”

  Hunter and I turn to look at each other. “Crescent ruination conceived by midnight. Darkness destroyed, ashen angel birthright,” I repeat the words. Saying them out loud sends ripples of goosebumps over my skin.

  “Well, that’s appropriately vague,” Brent says, his thumbs flying over his phone screen.

  “Yeah.” I nod. “That’s what I thought.”

  “Is Anixia this midnight/darkness thing mentioned?” Brent asks.

  “I asked that too. Yeah, according to Keziry, Anixia’s moniker was the Midnight Queen.”

  “Was?” Brent asks, brows pulled together.

  “Native Three stated that it was thought she had been dead for at least one hundred years. That’s why they were so shocked that we said her name. Especially after they found out we were Earthlings. Long story short, Keziry, Brockten, and Drake fired up their beaming machine and sent us home,” I finish the story.

  “It wasn’t until the police showed up at Exploration Place that we found out we’d been gone for at least ten weeks. To Finley and me, we were gone maybe twelve hours… on the outside.” Hunter waves his hand.

  “How the hell?” Brent starts.

  “Your turn.” I point at Brent.

  “Oh, not on your life, sweet cheeks. I have follow-up questions,” he replies.

  “And we’ll get to them, but I want to hear what happened here. To us, we were only gone for a couple hours. To you, it must have seemed endless.” I remember the horror etched into Josh’s face a couple of hours ago when he met us at Exploration Place.

  How could that possibly be only a couple of hours before? It feels like lifetimes ago. I feel like I’ve lived whole years in the space of mere hours. I should be wiser and more decrepit. I only feel worn and tired. Anguish and loss demand so many resources.

  The loss of my parents floods me again. I can’t hold back the tears anymore. Pulling my grief around me like an extra blanket, I sink into the chasm of darkness. I’ll seek the light again.

  Later.

  05

  Sitting around the table with d
iscarded pizza boxes towering on both ends, the guys sit back, and everyone finally takes a deep breath. I barely made it through half of one piece before my stomach revolted.

  By silent agreement, conversation centered on the mundane, the boringly normal. No mention of Hunter and I being gone for ten weeks, no hint of horror, no speck of sympathy.

  “Okay. I’m ready for you to tell me what happened when Hunter and I were on Ankarrah,” I say during a break in conversation.

  “Are you sure?” Brent asks.

  “Yes.” I turn to look at Hunter. He nods.

  “We found out you were missing when the FBI put out an alert on the TV,” Brent begins.

  My mouth drops open.

  “Shit.” Hunter wipes his hand down his face. “Has anyone contacted my family?”

  “I’m sorry, man. We don’t have their names or contact information, so we couldn’t do anything about contacting them,” Brent says as he shakes his head.

  I swallow the guilt that statement brings. I don’t know his parents’ names either, and it didn’t even dawn on me that his family might be missing him.

  “Okay, hold that thought, boys.” I turn to Hunter. “Hunter, go call your parents. Do you want to go see them? Do you want me to go with you? What can we do?”

  Brian offers Hunter his phone, sliding it across the table. Hunter picks it up, and dials a number quickly. Giving me a quick kiss on the head as I get off his lap, he pushes up and away from the table, going to stand in the empty living room.

  Watching his lithe body in motion takes my mind off my own guilt and horror. It takes a couple of minutes before I realize that the living room is completely gore-free. Blinking a few times to make sure I’m not actually hallucinating, I slowly turn my head in silent question to the boys.

  “Agent Richardson’s team was magic.” Brent shrugs his shoulders.

  “Wow. Who do I need to pay for the flooring?” I ask the guys.

  “Agent Richardson—whose first name is Sarah, by the way—said that DHS would cover the cost considering how Whittier went a little crazy and tried to kidnap you and threatened to kill us,” Brent says.