Unleashed (4 page)

“Maybe it was Davis.” Nonie smiled slyly.

“Okay. What's the deal?” Sam leaned in and pushed the now empty bowl aside. “You know that house has always given me the creeps. With only that old caretaker guy, Davis, living in it, the place always had a major haunted house vibe. Lonely and sad looking you know.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “It always gave me the creeps…not to mention nightmares.”

“What nightmares?” The stern tone of Nonie's voice caught Sam completely off guard. “Samantha Jane Logan. Answer me.”

Sam sputtered a bit before answering. “Well, it's really not a big deal.”

“Fine, then tell me,” she said more softly.

Oh yeah, velvet steamroller.

Sam rolled her eyes and smiled. “You are like a dog with a bone.”

Nonie simply smiled and sat back with her wrinkled hands folded delicately in her lap, patiently waiting to get the explanation she asked for.

“Ever since high school, I've had a recurring dream that I'm lost in that house with someone calling my name.” Sam leaned back in her chair, and her gaze wandered to the kitchen window and landed firmly on the old Victorian next door. Her voice wavered and dipped to almost a whisper. “It's a man. His voice is deep and almost hypnotic. I can hear him calling me. He sounds so…desperate. I run from room to room, but I can never find him. It's dark, and I'm alone.” Her eyes filled with tears at the vivid memory of it. She sniffled and wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Seems more sad than scary,” Nonie said quietly, her eyes searching Sam's. She opened her mouth to say more but shut it quickly. She fiddled with her teacup and continued to inspect Sam with worry-filled eyes.

“It's just a silly childhood dream,” she said with a wave of her napkin and a swipe at her nose.

“Mmm hmmm,” Nonie murmured, not sounding all that convinced. “I do remember you having trouble sleeping. Why didn't you tell me about this when you were younger?”

Change the subject, change the subject.

“Hey, you never answered my question. Who's living in that house with the old guy? Did one of the Drew family members actually move in?”

Nonie remained silent and gave a coy shrug.

“You stinker,” she teased. “There's someone else living in that house now isn't there? There's gotta be because the person I saw through the window was way bigger than Davis. Come on, Nonie,” she prodded. “You must've met one of the Drews in all the years you've lived here. I never have, and I know Pop never mentioned it.”

Nonie leaned in and lowered her voice as though she didn't want to get caught sharing the juicy bit of gossip. “Well, from what I understand, young Malcolm Drew lives there now. He's supposedly the brooding, loner type. Very mysterious,” she whispered. “According to Millie at the diner, he runs the family fortune, overseas shipping, or some such thing. Recently moved back here—alone—and now runs the whole business from right next door. He was an only child just like you. I heard his father had died a couple of years ago. I never met the mother, no one here has. Oh, heard rumors of course. But who knows. Maybe you could go over and introduce yourself? Bring him a plate of cookies or something.” She winked playfully.

“Nonie! I've been here less than twelve hours, and already you're trying to set me up. With some weirdo shut-in no less. No. No men. My first priority is finding a job.”

“I thought your first priority was your art?”

“Well, first I've got to find a job to support my art. As I firmly established in the city, it's not exactly in high demand.” She sighed. “I was thinking of asking Millie if they needed any help at the diner.”

“I thought you were tired of waiting tables?”

“Millie's place is like my second home. Besides, she usually loses her staff at the end of the season when they go back to school.”

“Sounds good,” Nonie said with her typical optimism. “Let's go see her at the diner tomorrow and see what's what.”

Within a few moments, they fell into a comfortable silence and listened to the soothing sounds of the ocean while they ate.

***

He'd followed her back from New York. He had his orders to run surveillance on the Logan woman again. They'd observed her off and on over the years. Watching carefully to see if she showed any sign of infection, but so far zip, she was just a woman. He sighed with boredom as he watched her go into the house with her grandmother. Dropping his binoculars on the seat next to him, he quickly took down some notes. Tony hated this assignment because he was convinced there was not going to be any action. He wanted to be in the thick of it and bag an Amoveo for himself, not following some pathetic, freak waitress around. They hadn't killed one for years, not since her parents. That had been a big job, bumping off an Amoveo and his human whore. He cringed at the thought of it. A human woman knowingly mated with one of these animals. It infuriated him. The worst part was that they created some kind of mutant offspring. This woman was a walking atrocity, half human and half animal.

Anger and disgust welled up inside of him. He remembered some of the stories he'd been told. How his ancestors had hunted down and killed these creatures, freaks of nature that practically spat in the face of God. His grandfather had told him about some of the kills he'd made back in the day. They hadn't gotten any good ones in years. What he really loved though was that you got two for the price of one. Kill one Amoveo and their bitch died too. What could be better than that? It had been a great side effect to help them wipe them off the face of the earth. They had gotten very good at hiding from his family—from the Caedo. They were a sneaky bunch of bastards. His grandfather told him—
Don't ever think your job is done. We cannot rest until all of these devils are eliminated from our world.
Tony couldn't let his grandfather down. He wanted to make his mark and do his family proud. Recently, he had taken measures on his own that were
outside the box
. He smiled smugly to himself, admiring his own creative brilliance. He was making his final notes when the cell phone rang loudly next to him. He saw the number and smiled. It was his partner. “Hello?”

“Have you seen her?” the voice asked.

“Yes, she just got home. She's inside with the old lady. Nothing major has happened. I'll call you if—”

“Shut up and listen.”

The command was abrupt. Tony hated being told what to do, but waited in silence.

“Her mate has found her. Do not let her out of your sight. He will definitely try to make contact with her soon. If he does, you know what to do.”

“Yeah, look I'm not stupid.” His comment was met with a click as his partner hung up on him with no warning. “Yeah, good-bye to you too.” Tony hurled the phone onto the seat next to him. “Screw you. Think you can tell me what to do? You fucker,” he spat. Furious, he pulled away from the side of the road. As he drove away from the house, he kept repeating his new mantra, the one that kept him going. “The enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

Sam cleared the table and attempted to do the dishes, but Nonie wouldn't hear of it. She shooed Sam upstairs to finish getting settled. Normally, she would've fought her on this, but Sam was too tired. She went upstairs, took a long, hot shower, and just enjoyed the water as it flowed over her from head to toe. It washed away any doubts she'd had about coming. She went back into her room and was surprised to see her window open. She could've sworn that she'd closed it
.
Maybe Nonie opened it?

Maybe you're just tired and forgetful.

As she toweled off her hair, she walked over to the large, open bay window and looked out over the rolling sea. She loved the way the light played on the water, like stars dancing in the ocean.

She looked over at the Drew house and again saw someone standing in the upstairs window. The light was on, and she could quite clearly see it was a man, a very tall man. He filled the entire window—definitely not Davis. She could swear he was staring back at her. Sam couldn't look away. She knew it was rude to just blatantly stare, but he probably couldn't see her anyway.

He waved.

Sam quickly stepped back from the window.
What am I doing? I'm being ridiculous.
She rolled her eyes at her silliness and stepped back to the window, but he was gone.
Great, I've been home for less than a day, and already I've insulted the creepy neighbor.
“Nice move, Sam,” she said. “Really smooth.”

Sam tossed the damp towel aside and flopped down onto her bed with an audible grunt. The rush and excitement of moving home had worn off and been replaced by exhaustion and a hint of fear. Was she doing the right thing? Was moving back home a new beginning or a huge step backward? She let out a large sigh, and one of Nonie's famous sayings came drifting through her mind. She always said, “Everything will work itself out.” Somehow that was always true, but it didn't make the journey any less challenging.

Her eyes drifted closed, and she tried to focus on the familiar and soothing sounds of the seashore. The cool evening breeze blew in through the open window in sync with the rhythmic sound of the waves. She inhaled deeply and relished the sharp, salty air that rushed into her lungs and cleared her head. She had planned to do more unpacking, but was too wiped out.

Sam picked up her head and glanced over at the large pile of unpacked boxes and bags that taunted her from the corner of the room. Just lying down for a few minutes couldn't hurt. Right? Right. Who was she kidding? There would be no more unpacking tonight. Nope. After all, the pile of crap would still be there in the morning. She leaned over and turned out the small jeweled lamp on her nightstand.

Her head once again nestled in the large soft pillow. She stared at the ceiling and absentmindedly played with the silver cross at her neck. It had been her mother's when she was a girl, a First Communion gift. Jane had it put away for Sam after she was born. Nonie, of course, then gave it to Sam on her First Communion. She never took it off.

People often asked her if she missed her parents. That was a difficult question to answer because she was usually misunderstood. They died in a boating accident when she was just six months old. She had no memory of them. It's hard to miss people you never knew. She missed the memories she never got with them, but Nonie and Pop were always there. Every holiday or birthday, Nonie would have a story about her mother, Jane, and one or two about her father, Lucas. She wished she could've known them. Based on the stories she knew, she would've loved them. Sam did love them, just not in a way she could easily explain.

As she drifted off to sleep, her thoughts went to the man in the window. Who was he? Did he live there all alone? Then she smiled sleepily and told herself that tomorrow, after she found a job, she was going to go over there and introduce herself to the neighbor. He can't be all bad, she thought. After all he waved
.
Then she fell into the welcoming arms of sleep and dreamed.

Sam dreamed of the house next door.

***

She was walking along the beach at sunset with the wind whipping her hair up into her face. She heard her name whispered on the wind. It was him.

“Samantha.”

His voice was deep and rich, a caress along the nape of her neck. She turned toward the familiar baritone as it curled like mist inside of her. High above her on the bluff loomed the Drew house, and at the top of the beach steps was a man. Her dream lover. Her lips curved into a small smile. She started toward him, drawn to him almost inexplicably. The sun glared brightly behind him and blocked out his face. He cut a hulking, shadowy figure, waiting for her with an outstretched hand.

“I've been waiting for you,” he purred.

His silky familiar voice slid inside of her, sending delicious shivers through every inch of her body. She grasped the rough wooden railing and recognition flooded her pounding heart.

It was him. The man who'd been calling to her in the house for all those years was her dream lover. She was sure of it. She swallowed hard and steadily made her way toward him.

Heart racing, fingers trembling, she reached out to take his hand. Eyes squinting against the setting sun, she struggled to see his face.

Without warning, a huge black-backed seagull shrieked and swooped down toward her. Startled, Sam reeled back and felt herself falling. She heard him curse loudly as she flailed wildly, and her body plummeted helplessly toward the beach. She squeezed her eyes shut and braced herself for what was sure to be a painful impact on the beach below. Somewhere in the back of her mind, a slightly hysterical voice reminded her that she was dreaming.

Wakeeupwakeupwakeup.

Suddenly, a vice like grip had a hold of her arms. Her body jerked as though she'd pulled the rip cord on a parachute. Her eyes flew open, and to her surprise the waves splashed far below her dangling bare feet. She was no longer falling, but flying. She was soaring high above the dark blue water, and her bathrobe fluttered open around her legs. She licked her lips, and although it was just a dream, she could actually taste the salt on them. Were you supposed to be able to taste things in a dream?

Breathless, Sam took in the sun-kissed ocean as she soared high above the crashing waves. To say it was beautiful would have been an understatement. If only it were this blue in real life. She had dreamed of flying before, but this was different. She wasn't flying. It was more like she was being flown. Something, or someone, had a hold of her.

A slight pressure on her upper arms increased almost imperceptibly. Her breath stilled, and she closed her eyes. Ohmigod! You're going to be fine. It's only a dream. Steeling herself, she cracked open one eye and glanced quickly at her right arm. The white terry cloth puffed out between yellow, and sharply taloned feet of what could only be a bird. Was it that weird seagull? She swallowed hard and summoned her courage. C'mon Sam. It's just a dream. Right? In a moment of bravery, she looked up to see what held her so effortlessly.

Her mouth went dry at the sight above her. The most enormous bird she had ever seen held her as though she weighed nothing at all. Massive brown and bronze feathered wings pumped loudly in her ears and matched the pounding of her heart. Brilliant yellow eyes peered down at her over a sharply hooked beak. The scream, which had been brewing inside of her, bubbled up and boiled over, shattering the night.

***

Sam woke up to the shriek of her alarm. The sun streamed into the room, and she squinted against the blinding light. With her breath coming in ragged gasps, she ripped the covers off and launched herself out of bed. “What the hell kind of dream was that?” she blurted a bit too loud. She slapped her hand over her mouth to keep any more outbursts from attracting Nonie's attention. She walked over to the open window and slowly peered outside. The world looked normal. No giant, weird, yellow-eyed birds. Sam took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

“Okay, Sam. Calm down. It was just a dream, a really weird dream.” She closed the window and went over to quickly make the bed. Sam rationalized that the dream was merely a result of being overtired from moving in yesterday. That would make perfect sense, she thought, not really convincing herself.

After a hearty breakfast of Nonie's famous blueberry pancakes, they set out for town. It was a late summer day, deliciously warm with a breeze that had cleared every cloud from the sky. She had almost completely forgotten about her bizarre dream. They drove with the windows down because it was a gorgeous day and because the old Bug didn't have any working air-conditioning. They pulled into the diner parking lot, and Sam smiled at the memories, which flooded her mind. The Dugout was a classic, old-fashioned diner, which Nonie and Pop took her to every Sunday after church. It was a popular spot in town with both locals and summer people. Millie Sparks ran it like a kitchen on a Navy ship. There was a lot of colorful language and not much patience for stupidity.

When they walked into the diner, the old bell above the door announced their entrance. They were immediately greeted by Millie who practically knocked over the busboy on her way to the door. Millie was a short, robust woman with a mischievous grin, and Nonie's best friend for over forty years. Her salt and pepper hair was cut short and stuck out in a thousand directions around a round face with mischievous eyes.

“Well slap me silly, and call me Millie!”

She always did have a way with words, Sam thought with a smile. “Hey, Millie, it's so great to see you,” Sam said. Millie grabbed her in a big bear hug, then pulled back and eyed her suspiciously.

“Sammy girl, how are you? You are gettin' too damn skinny! Sit down at my counter, and I'm gonna make you the biggest stack of French toast you've ever seen!”

“Thanks, Millie, but Nonie already filled me with blueberry pancakes.” She rubbed her stomach. “If this keeps up, I'll get even fatter.”

“Why do you young girls always want to be skinny? Men like a girl with meat on their bones. Ain't that right, Billy?” she said to the loyal busboy who also happened to be her son. It was the same sweet guy she'd almost plowed to the ground a moment ago.

“Yes, ma'am,” he said. “Hey, Sam, welcome home.”

Billy was a sweetheart. Nonie called him a
gentle soul
. He was pretty much raised in this diner, bussed tables for his mother, cooked, whatever she needed. Sam had known him all her life. “Hi, Billy.” She hugged him. “It's great to see you. How's Mary? I heard you had a baby?”

“Yup, little Willie. He's six months old already.” Beaming with pride, he instantly pulled a family picture from his back pocket.

Sam looked at the smiling faces, and a twinge of longing hit her.
What is it like to have that?
she thought wistfully. “He's adorable. You've got a beautiful family Billy.” Sam handed the photo back.

“Well, quit the yappin', and get back to work, Billy boy.” Millie slapped him good-naturedly on the back.

Sam and Nonie took a seat at the counter as Millie poured them some coffee.

“So, your grandmamma tells me you need a job, and as fate would have it, I need a good waitress. These summer kids are gonna split on me in the next couple of weeks, and it'll just be me and Billy. If you take it, it'll be just like old times. You interested?”

“Absolutely, Millie, you're a lifesaver.” Sam smiled.

“Well, we aim to please round here. What's say we have you start the last week of this month? Give you a week to get back in the swing of the things before the Labor Day crush. Sound good?”

“I could start tomorrow.”

“Well, I don't know about that. Your grandmother just got you back. I'll never hear the end of it if I hog up all your time right away.” Millie pursed her lips and scratched her head. “How 'bout the day after tomorrow?”

“Well, OK.” Sam sipped her coffee and shrugged. “Day after tomorrow sounds fine, I guess.”

“She's right dear,” Nonie chimed. “Besides, it will give you a bit of time to concentrate on setting up your art studio.” She smiled at Millie over her coffee.

“What art studio? What are you talking about?” Sam sent a confused look to Nonie who was busy sharing a conspiratorial glance with Millie.

“You'll see when we get back to the house. Right now, we need to head over to the art supply store and stock up. Bye, Millie. See you tonight at your place for bridge.”

Nonie put money down for the coffee and walked out to the car, leaving Sam sitting there with her mouth hanging open.

“Well, you gonna just sit here like a wide mouth bass? Don't do that, you're scarin' my customers. Go on. Git. I'll see you the day after tomorrow for work.” She flicked her dish towel at Sam.

“B-but,” she stammered, feeling bewildered.

“No buts. Go with your grandmother. She's been planning this surprise for you ever since you said you were comin' home.”

She stood up, slipped on her aviator sunglasses, and went out to the car. Nonie sat in the passenger seat with a satisfied smile on her face. Sam started the engine and stared at her grandmother. “Okay. Spill it.”

“You drive. I'll
spill
as you say.”

As they drove over to the art supply store in town, Nonie began to divulge the surprise she'd been carving out. Once Sam told her that she was moving back home, Nonie went to work on setting her up an art studio in the little garage at home. Sam couldn't believe it. She was so used to working in a catch-as-catch-can way. The idea of having an entire studio space for her was like winning the lottery. When they pulled into the parking lot of the art supply store, she shut off the car and grabbed Nonie in the biggest hug she could muster. “Thank you so much.” She laughed.