Page 22 of Hunted in the Shadows
My heart sank. “No, Mom—Dad’s not driving.”
She blinked. “Let me talk to him.”
“Sorry, he—he can’t.”
I knew by her expression that she was too far gone. The sudden stillness, the blank stare. Tia Sonia saw it, too. She murmured delicately for Mom to say goodbye and hand the phone back.
“No.” Mom’s voice dropped to a whisper, jerking back.
Tia Sonia made a soft noise of comfort. “Ivette—”
“No!” Mom screamed. “No, no, no!” Each word was like a punch. “Where’s Adam? Where is he?”
The phone was yanked away, the video going dark. “Mijito, we’ll catch up later—she’ll be okay.No te preocupes.”
In the background, I could hear orderlies trying to get Mom under control. And then, the call ended. The car plunged into silence.
“Sometimes a short call is better, yeah?” Cliff remarked after a weighty pause. He reached over and clapped my shoulder, the gruff motion somewhat easing my lingering sense of fragility.
I muttered my agreement, shoving my phone into my jeans pocket. She had remembered my name the last three calls. That was something, at least.
“They think I’m a sales rep for a machinery company,” I said, glancing at Sylvia to answer the burning question she was too kind to ask. “It’s just… easier this way.”
As the rhythmic hum of the engine carried on, Sylvia flew back to my shoulder, nuzzling up against my neck like a touch-starved kitten.
“Hey—I’m fine, Sylv,” I said, an affectionate smile pulling at my lips.
“Everybody knows ‘fine’ is the worst answer,” reproached her dulcet voice in my ear.
Jesus, she was cute. I reached up to rub her side, burying the stab of pain that tightened my throat—the pain of wondering where I would be right now, what my life would be like if my father had never been possessed by that fucking spirit.
Why me?Nearly a decade had passed, and the question had lost none of its acrid sting.
In the distance, thunder rolled viciously. A flicker of lightning cut through the black clouds. Sylvia tensed up against me, cursing softly.
Cliff cursed much less softly, side-eying her perch with equal parts concern and irritation.
“This oughta be a peaceful drive,” he muttered.
He tossed a look at me, well-versed with Sylvia’s fear of thunder, even if he didn’t know the reason behind it. I tightened my hold on her as raindrops splattered onto the windshield, a gradual drumming that became a roar. She was shivering against me, her easygoing demeanor sapping like a switch had been flipped. No matter how she tried to shake her terrible childhood memory, that single moment had etched itself into her very being.
Thick clouds ate away the golden light of dusk, steeping us in a darkness that belonged to a far later hour. A few miles in, the car’s headlights struggled to pierce more than a yard ahead of us.I frowned, noting through the lashing windshield wipers that the land on either side of us was already waterlogged.
“Damn it!” Cliff tapped the brakes, sending me lurching forward in my seat to narrowly avoid a collision with the minivan swerving in front of us.
I squinted through the heavy droplets of the passenger’s side window. The minivan sat in the emergency lane, winking hazard lights like dying fireflies. It vanished in the storm’s embrace, leaving us the sole vehicle on the road.
Another crackle of thunder rattled the sky. The pinpricks of Sylvia’s fingers dug into my neck.
Her breathing huffed irregularly as she fought to find her voice. “Can’t we head back and wait out the storm? Why go toward it when that other car was in a rush to get away?”
“Don’t worry about it,” Cliff said, eyes set forward. “I know what I’m doing. Just hang tight.”
The next thunderous crash lasted even longer, like several rumbles rolled into one.
Sylvia shuddered. “Cliff—”
“Let me focus.”
