Page 6 of Hunted in the Shadows
Jon and Cliff ambled inside behind me, their steps heavy and slow as they scoured the area for any salvageable supplies—which wasn’t much.
“Should we call up a cleaner?” Jon asked.
“Nah. Nothing to salvage but dust, and that doesn’t go for much,” Cliff answered as he rooted through a pile of clothes. “They’d harass us for cash for the trouble, and we can’t spare it.”
“We should be thorough,” I called out, my voice a frightened quiver wrapped in authority. I was too preoccupied to question what acleanerwas. “Make sure nothing else is hiding here.”
“Relax,” Cliff said, pocketing a wristwatch that would likely be added to the hunters’pawnstash—whatever that was. “If King Dickhead’s ash, so are the rest of his spawn.”
“And you know that for sure?” I started back toward the break room, fretful. “Ididn’t know that any monster could cloak their presence from me. Surprises happen.”
“Take a breather, will ya?” Cliff called. “Aren’t you sore after being chucked across the room? You’re lucky that fucker didn’t break your wings.”
“What?” Jon’s voice snapped, bringing forth the image of a lightning crack once more. “Who?”
I sighed and gestured to the break room. “He got hold of me after he threw you into the shelf.”
Jon closed the space to me in three quick strides, eyes wide. He reached halfway for me, hesitating as though he might cause more injury. “He put his hands on you?”
“I’m fine,” I said with a dismissive chuckle. His stare read me as far too fragile for my liking—even if my arms and ribs throbbed with the promise of impending bruises. A strained smile was the best I could offer him. “Much as I love the murder in your eyes for my sake, there’s no one left to kill. Let’s give the building one last sweep and say goodbye to it.”
Jaw clenched, he conceded—somewhat. “I’ll take another look around. Stay here, and stay off your wings.”
“Yes,sir,” I said in a sultry voice that made him flee with color in his cheeks.
Although I remained slightly on edge, an unusual sense of calm permeated the building. In my limited experience, hunts typically ended in a rush to beat police phone calls and escape the evidence of a massacre. Ash stirred in the breeze of the open doors. How long before it could be easily mistaken for the natural dust of abandonment?
Cliff overturned drawer after drawer behind the counter, finding nothing of note. “Wish you could’ve seen this place in its prime, Sylv. Lots of good memories.”
“Prime?” Jon laughed, glancing up from one of the shelves. “This whole chain was on its last legs by the time we were in high school.”
“Hey, don’t shit on my golden days,” Cliff wistfully ran his hand over the surface that had nearly broken my neck. He glanced up at me, eyebrows lifted conspiratorially. “I had a buddy who worked at a Blockbuster, you know. I’d swing by after football games, and he’d hook me up with free candy and let me use the break room.”
“For what?” I landed on the counter to heed Jon’s order and rest my wings.
Grinning, Cliff rooted behind one of the cabinets. “To nail the head cheerleader, obviously.”
“I thought that was the quarterback?” Jon called from across the room.
“Little of this, little of that.” Cliff made a thoughtful noise and pried out something from between a drawer and panel. “Hey, check it out—”
He held up a blue and yellow scrap of cardboard for my inspection. It was creased so badly that I could barely discern the lettering:Blockbuster Membership Card.
“What’s it for?” I asked.
“People used it to check out movies from this place.”
“Can I have it?”
“Knock yourself out, kiddo.”
I flew up and snatched it from him, too thrilled by my hunting trophy to register my wings’ ache of protest.
3
Jon
“You’re the only person on the planet who’s excited to do laundry,” Cliff remarked as he pulled our silver Pontiac into the empty laundromat parking lot.
