Ignited Page 19

  He looks away. “I’m sorry, Maddy. But that’s something I cannot tell you.”

  “So you’re keeping me in the dark too? But I guess you always have, haven’t you?”

  “I didn’t want to keep my secret from you,” he says. “But when you were a baby, you felt my essence, just as you do now with MJ. You were addicted to it for a while. I knew one day you’d be old enough to ask why a hug or touch from me was different than one from someone else. That’s why I hid behind the lie of being a germophobe all these years—so I wouldn’t ever touch you again.”

  Hundreds of responses gather on my tongue, fighting to be said. I want to lash out at him. I want to demand he leave the house, leave my family, and never return. But it would be a waste. He wouldn’t leave.

  I stare into his once-familiar brown eyes. “I trusted you.”

  “Everything I’ve done was to protect you.” He shakes his head. “Despite my best efforts, though, it wasn’t enough. I should have stopped him. The others should have told me he was here.”

  I feel a strange desire to laugh. After all that, he stills wants to act like an uncle who’s concerned about his niece’s boyfriend.

  “MJ’s good. He won’t hurt—”

  “I mean the demon responsible for the markings on your arm.”

  My left hand moves, covering them. Still the memories creep back. No matter what I do or how much time passes, there will always be a part of me that never escaped that house. “It wasn’t your fault.”

  “It was. But it’s one mistake I will not make again. Which brings me back to the original reason for our discussion.” He nods to the guest bedroom. “Come with me.”

  I take a step back.

  His frown deepens. “You have nothing to fear from me, Maddy.”

  I hold myself tighter as he walks into the bedroom. I glance at the stairs. Somewhere up there, MJ is waiting for me. We’ve already been apart for so long today. But every time we are, I discover more and more information MJ hasn’t told me.

  My gaze turns to the guest bedroom door. In that room lies secrets about Duane, about MJ, about Justin. Perhaps even about me. I’m not sure I’m ready to hear them, but I don’t think I have a choice now.

  Knowing MJ kept the truth about Duane from me has me questioning everything. And like it or not, Duane is the only one who won’t protect me from the truth.

  I have to go in there.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  MJ

  The instant Maddy goes down to the basement with him, I walk outside and contact Alexander.

  Are you and Tamitha able to return?

  He doesn’t answer, though I know we’re connected.

  Alexander, answer—

  I’m here, he softly replies.

  My chest tightens. Something is wrong. I’ve felt it nagging in my bones. I’m not sure what it is, but I know it’s about Maddy.

  Are you able to report? I ask.

  Yes. Upon arriving—

  No, I interrupt. Come here and do it. Send Tamitha to relieve Sissy.

  Understood.

  Giving the report through Cerebrallink would be easier. But I need Alexander here in case my worst fears are confirmed.

  The sky darkens.

  I stand on the sidewalk and clear my mind, listening for Maddy’s heartbeat. It’s beating at a slightly faster rate. I know her rhythms well enough to understand she’s upset over something.

  I clench my jaw, hating that she asked me not to listen. I want to. Badly. But I will respect her wishes so long as the Shadowwalker doesn’t endanger her further.

  Alexander appears before me—shoulders sagging, staring at the ground.

  “Tell me how it happened,” I say. I don’t normally dig into the specifics of how a demon kills, but with Maddy experiencing that vision, I need to know.

  He takes a deep, shaky breath.

  Because we’re not living beings, we don’t need to breathe as mortals do, but we mimic the motions. So for Alexander to take such a breath now, it must be a sign of how difficult his news is. It’s also a sign of how much Maddy has changed us.

  He looks up, his brown eyes strained and filled with emotions we’re only beginning to understand.

  “She was right,” he whispers. “Everything Maddy said happened. The Atwood family was at the Colorado Convention Center, minutes away from Mr. Atwood speaking at the campaign rally. Lauren was in a dressing room that caught fire.”

  My heart sinks for the family’s loss; Protector Gary, who failed; and the girls remaining on the demon’s list. But mostly for Maddy and what this means for us.

  “Where was Protector Gary?” I ask.

  With Mr. Atwood being a political figure seen by so many mortals on a daily basis, Gary was on a strict no-contact detail. It would be too complex to compel that many memories. Instead, he protected Lauren from the Veil of Shadows. She had no knowledge of him or the danger she faced.

  “He discovered a Morpher demon in the crowd and thought it might be the killer,” Alexander says. “He gave chase but lost him several miles away in a supermarket. Tamitha and I arrived just as he returned.”

  Morpher demons are ranked highest in the Caste. There aren’t many of them, but they tend to be the most deadly. Instead of possessing someone, they alter their essence, body, and voice to become that person. The impersonations can even fool Guardians. Mortals in powerful positions are common targets for them. They kill their targets—it’s difficult to con people into thinking you’re John Doe when the real John Doe could walk right into the same room. It’s very possible that Mr. Atwood would have been killed tonight had it not been for this tragic event.

  A raindrop lands on my arm, then another on my forehead. I’m torn between running to the basement to wipe away her tears and remaining here with Alexander to learn about her vision.

  “There’s more,” Alexander says.

  I stare at the sky, waiting for it to burst open and unleash her pain, but it doesn’t. The sprinkles stop. Whatever they’re discussing, she can handle it.

  I turn back to him and decide to stay, giving Maddy the space she needs.

  “We searched the room and found the fire’s point of origin, but we couldn’t determine what ignited the blaze. It’s as if the room just burst into flames.”

  “So the fire was designed to kill Lauren.”

  “Yes. About that . . . according to the witness statements, the accident happened at the exact time Maddy was in the vision.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “Maddy was inside Lauren when she died.”

  My knees shake. I decide to lower myself to a crouch before I collapse outright.

  Thunder rumbles around us. Other than checking for her heartbeat, I do nothing.

  I can’t go to her. I’m not ready to hide my fears.

  “Is she okay?” he asks, looking up at the sky.

  My shoulders lift in a defeated shrug. Given her reactions, I can guess what’s happening.

  “He’s telling her about himself.” My voice is flat. Despondent. Dead.

  It’s one thing I forbade him to do, so of course he would do it. And now she knows I hid this from her too. How could I tell her, though? It’s not my truth to tell. More importantly, I knew it would break her heart.

  How many times must I watch her suffer before I break?

  “Do you mean he’s telling her he’s a Shadowwalker? Is that wise?” Alexander asks.

  “It’ll shatter her trust in him—and maybe what little trust she has in me.”

  He sighs, then I feel his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

  I huff. “Maddy nearly burned to death inside a vision of a victim of the demon serial killer. Something like this is refreshing. I can fix this. With time, she will trust me again. I just need to find a way to guarantee we get that time.”

  “I’ll help. Tamitha and Sissy will too.”

  We watch the sky in silence as more of her tears fall as rain and her fears echo out in th
under. Just when I think it’s over and she’s okay, it starts up again.

  “This cannot all be from him revealing himself,” I say, voicing my thoughts. “What else is he telling her?”

  “Whatever it is,” Alexander says, “I’ll help you with that too. I’ve been itching to send him to Hell.”

  I grin and stand beside him. “Me too.”

  Alexander quiets for a moment, then says, “Everything keeps circling around to Maddy. We need to figure out why.”

  I look at him, feeling lighter as hope fills me. With their help, I can protect her. “I don’t know where to start.”

  “Simple. We start with what we know. We start with the demon called Damien.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  Maddy

  Once I step into the room in the basement with Duane, all breath leaves me. The gray walls are hidden behind massive whiteboards littered with photos and notes in black marker. I count twelve boards in all, and they are grouped in various sets.

  This must be his case about the serial killer—whom I now assume he knows full well is a demon.

  I move closer to the first one. Some pictures show a horrible car accident. Other photos are happy snapshots of a family—who I assume were the accident victims. Most of the photos, though, are of one victim, a teenage girl. She was a pretty brunette with light green eyes. From the snapshots, I see she played the violin, went to science fairs, and ran track.

  “That’s Melany Zimmerman,” Duane says. “She died in a motor-vehicle accident near Seattle, Washington. Her family’s car was struck by a minivan in January, resulting in the death of four people.”

  I’m immediately confused. Car accidents aren’t linked to serial killers.

  He moves to the next board. The photos cause my stomach to flip. There’s a burned-down building, and many bodies are charred. The snapshots again focus on one subject: a green-eyed brunette who was into lacrosse, played drums, and had awards for creative writing.

  “This is Krystle Abermann. She died in a fire at Seattle Grace Hospital along with eighty-two other people. That occurred in March.”

  Two accidents, both in Seattle, but this one had a massive death toll.

  He moves to the third board. My stomach tightens further at more pictures of fire victims. Again, one person has the most snapshots—a green-eyed, brunette female active in sports, music, and academics.

  It’s obvious these girls are the killer’s preferred target, though many other people die along with them.

  “This is Kali Fredrickson,” Duane says, interrupting my thoughts. “She and eight other victims died in a fire at a Georgia foster home in May.”

  “Georgia?” I ask as a flag goes up in my mind. Serial killers tend to be creatures of habit. Almost all of them follow some pattern, whether it’s weapon, kill zone, dumping ground, whatever. This guy kills by both car accidents and fires, doesn’t seem to care how many innocent victims die along with the target, and now he’s jumping states. Aside from the pattern of the main victims, it doesn’t even seem like the same killer.

  “Now you see what I’m up against.”

  He shuffles to the next set of three, which looks nearly identical to the previous set. Maybe there is a pattern after all.

  “This is Jamie Miller. Her family’s vehicle was involved in a ten-car pileup in Arkansas. A total of twenty-nine people died on the scene.”

  My head is a whirl, trying to sort out the connections.

  I follow him to the fifth board, suppressing the urge to either cry or puke.

  “This is Linsey Cooper. Her home in Oklahoma caught fire during a party, claiming the lives of sixteen people. That was July.”

  A tear slides down my cheek as we move to the sixth board. So many people suffered at the hands of this monster.

  “This is Brandy Kline. She and her boyfriend were killed in Louisiana in September when their bonfire somehow got out of control.”

  My feet feel heavy as we move to the seventh board, which is in the last set of two. This board is different. There are snapshots of only one person.

  “This is Heather Waters. She was involved in a hit-and-run in Texas last week. She’s what led to us making the connections. A deputy working the case noticed how similar she was to his deceased niece, Linsey Cooper from Oklahoma. He searched for other victims matching them, found all these cases, then called us.

  “The car crashes had been previously written off as accidents. And the fires had been ruled as arson, even though the investigators couldn’t pinpoint the source or the person or persons responsible. Those methods are atypical of serial killers. They’re too impersonal. If not for Deputy Cooper, we never would have made the connection.”

  I take a moment to calm down enough to talk. This case, these boards—this is different than the files he’s shown me over the years. Seeing everything displayed like this . . . it’s realer. I can almost hear their screams.

  He moves to the next board. The moment I see the first photo, I close my eyes and turn away. My knees are instantly weak, and I struggle to stand as he says what I already know.

  “This is Lauren Atwood. She died in a fire this afternoon at her father’s campaign rally.”

  I know. I was inside her when she died.

  My knees give, and I crumble to the floor. Lauren, like all the others, was a green-eyed, brunette teenager.

  My body trembles, and thunder rumbles outside. Immediately I realize I need to get a grip on my reactions, or MJ will hear the thunder and rush down here. I need to know more.

  It takes several deep breaths to calm my nerves enough to silence the sky and several more to stop the shaking. When I open my eyes again, Duane’s kneeling before me. He doesn’t say a word. His sharp brown eyes watch me.

  I look past him, over his shoulder to the south-facing wall. There are four more boards. Those boards have snapshots and surveillance-type photos but no sickening crime scene images. Maybe they are potential targets.

  “Have you noticed the killer’s pattern yet?” Duane asks. “Car crash. Fire. Fire. Car crash. Fire. Fire. Car crash. Fire.” He points to board nine. “The next victim will undoubtedly die by fire.”

  My body convulses and my calves burn, remembering Lauren’s death.

  I scan these final four boards; the last causes another jolt of pain to rush through me. It’s Amber.

  Only three girls now sit between Amber and a demon.

  “What else aren’t you telling me about this demon?” I ask, my voice quietly escaping my mouth.

  “You’re a smart girl, Madison.” He nods. “It is a demon. MJ must have told you that’s why he’s in town to protect Amber.”

  Now I understand: Duane warned MJ to stay away from me because the demon coming for Amber might mix us up and kill me by mistake.

  My insides are being squeezed by fear. It’s hard to breathe. MJ knows the demon has killed all these girls—plus countless other people in the wake. How could he keep so much from me?

  “Each of these girls was born on the same day,” Duane says in my silence. “Do you want to guess what day?”

  I shrug—but my breath races.

  “They all turn seventeen on Halloween.” Still kneeling in front of me, he leans in closer. “But their records aren’t very accurate, so it’s hard to be sure if the date is correct. That tends to be the case with adoptions.”

  I look at the photos again. Their faces morph into mine with our identical features. And we’re all adopted. We have the same birthdate. The same talents. It’s as if we were the same person.

  I could be girl number thirteen.

  Then I remember what Amber said in the office Tuesday about her parents.

  I barely recognize my voice as I ask, “What happened to their birth parents?”

  He lets out a long exhale. “The birth parents of all twelve girls died the day the girls were born.”

  My heart stutters. If all their parents are dead, are mine too?

  “Do you know”—I paus
e, taking a breath—“about my birth parents?”

  He doesn’t answer. He’s staring down at me with pain in his eyes.

  He knows.

  “Please, tell me.”

  He crouches down, placing a hand on my shoulder. His essence rushes in, trying to comfort me. But how can it? His touch is that of a stranger.

  “I will tell you. But I must warn you—it will be difficult to hear.”

  My insides quiver. With everything he’s ever told me, he’s never offered a caution before. Not even before showing me the most graphic crime photos.

  It must mean my birth parents met some tragic end. I don’t want to know that. I’d rather imagine they were happy somewhere, living a great life—even if it were without me. But still, I have to know. Their death will be the first and only thing I know about them.

  I take a moment to silence my emotions and prepare myself. Once everything calms, I meet his gaze and nod.

  He stands, taking his essence with him, then moves to stand beside the first board belonging to Melany Zimmerman.

  Duane looks at me carefully. “Did MJ tell you why the demon is targeting these specific girls?” He says it slowly, gauging my response.

  I barely register my head shaking in reply.

  “Perhaps that means he just didn’t want to scare you,” he says. “But hopefully, it means MJ—and everyone in Immortal City—hasn’t made the connection.”

  “I don’t want to know about a connection. Or MJ’s case. I want to know about my birth parents.”

  “Just listen, Maddy. Seventeen years ago, on Halloween, there was a report of a motor-vehicle accident where a woman lost control of her minivan on Mount Rainier and crashed into the side of a jeep. Sound familiar?”

  He taps Melany’s photo, hinting at the connection.

  My throat tightens, already nervous about where he’s going with this.

  “Both vehicles burst into flames. By the time rescue workers arrived, there was nothing left but charred remains. The driver of the minivan was identified, but the other wasn’t. Next to the scene, the police found a newborn baby girl. She was somehow born shortly after the accident, before the woman driving the jeep died and before anyone came across the accident. The mother was still in the vehicle, though. No one could figure out how the baby was beside the wreckage. The baby was taken to Seattle Grace and surprisingly found to be in perfect condition. Seattle Grace is the same hospital Krystle died in this year,” he says as he moves to Krystle’s photo.