don’t have a Daddy,” he said.
“Um.”
“They’ve been trying to make you for hundreds of years. You have such old blood, and I can show you. I can show you that we are one. You are eternal. You are a goddess.”
“Can you read me a story?”
“Daddy was a killer. They took him out of prison and told him to abuse you, hurt you. He was a child molester, a sexual predator. They gave him a child. They gave him you. Sweet little Mina.”
He wasn’t her father. What was this? Another game the demon was playing with her. Of course she had a Daddy. He hurt her, but sometimes he read nice stories to her. Before her hurt her, of course. If she was a good girl and promised to be nice to him, he would read to her. She liked it when he read to her.
The thing that was not Daddy stepped forward.
“You’re an experiment. They wanted your mind. They wanted what you could give them. Eternal life, and access to the inferno. It’s simple, my little sweetling. You were a tool, and you got away from them. You got away from them because you let me in. And they didn’t know. They didn’t understand.”
“I want to go to sleep now.”
Flash of lightning.
“You’ve always been asleep. I’m here to wake you up.”
He took a step forward, and she took a step backward. He came for her, and she retreated.
She ran into her bedroom and jumped into her bed. The face was the monster, not a mask. A mangled, rotted face that was hungry, needy.
“Please Daddy, take off the mask!” she threw the blanket over her.
But she knew it wasn’t a mask. When the blanket was snatched from her hands, she looked up into the dark and found the decrepit face of the man she once loved; rancid, pungent breath escaped through a mouth from the bowels of a rotting stomach, and the hanging pieces of cartilage and lip belonged to Patrick. This is what he would look like. This is what she made him.
“Just let me have a taste,” the demon said. “You want it. I know how badly you want it.”
She screamed. She never screamed for Daddy.
The demon laughed. Daddy never laughed.
The undead demon-Patrick arched backward, and a bright explosion of fire through its black mouth blinded Mina. She felt the weight of the demon fall upon her legs until it was shoved off the bed by the woman who just saved her.
“I didn’t save you,” Agent Rose said.
She pointed her gun at Mina’s face, pushing the warm barrel against her cheek, shoving her back onto the pillow.
“You don’t want this power?” Rose asked. “You don’t want this body? I’m going to take it from you. I was always meant to be with Jim. He made me, created me. I didn’t know it before, but I know it now. He made me to be like him, to be with him.”
The hot gun burned into Mina’s face.
“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Mina said.
“I know. That’s the problem. But it was always supposed to be this way. I’m supposed to have your power. I’m supposed to have your body.”
The gun exploded again, and parts of Mina’s face and hair decorated the mattress, the walls, throwing blood upon a picture of an elephant in a frame above her headboard.
BELLA
Bella stared across the Ambassador Bridge and could feel the tightness in her chest, the swelling of pride in herself that conflicted with the pain of loss and regret. She had come this far, had survived this long, to get here. She had lost everything—maybe—for this moment. There was no looking back.
Desmond might be dead. How would she find out? That question, more than any other, bothered her the most.
With the scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, she remembered again. His voice on the phone. Coltrane in the background. Stranded on the Ambassador Bridge. She called to ask if he was okay. She called to make sure he was out of danger.
The bridge waited for her. Abandoned cars. The sun-disc dipping beneath a crumbled skyline signaling the end of a day. The dead could see in the
“Um.”
“They’ve been trying to make you for hundreds of years. You have such old blood, and I can show you. I can show you that we are one. You are eternal. You are a goddess.”
“Can you read me a story?”
“Daddy was a killer. They took him out of prison and told him to abuse you, hurt you. He was a child molester, a sexual predator. They gave him a child. They gave him you. Sweet little Mina.”
He wasn’t her father. What was this? Another game the demon was playing with her. Of course she had a Daddy. He hurt her, but sometimes he read nice stories to her. Before her hurt her, of course. If she was a good girl and promised to be nice to him, he would read to her. She liked it when he read to her.
The thing that was not Daddy stepped forward.
“You’re an experiment. They wanted your mind. They wanted what you could give them. Eternal life, and access to the inferno. It’s simple, my little sweetling. You were a tool, and you got away from them. You got away from them because you let me in. And they didn’t know. They didn’t understand.”
“I want to go to sleep now.”
Flash of lightning.
“You’ve always been asleep. I’m here to wake you up.”
He took a step forward, and she took a step backward. He came for her, and she retreated.
She ran into her bedroom and jumped into her bed. The face was the monster, not a mask. A mangled, rotted face that was hungry, needy.
“Please Daddy, take off the mask!” she threw the blanket over her.
But she knew it wasn’t a mask. When the blanket was snatched from her hands, she looked up into the dark and found the decrepit face of the man she once loved; rancid, pungent breath escaped through a mouth from the bowels of a rotting stomach, and the hanging pieces of cartilage and lip belonged to Patrick. This is what he would look like. This is what she made him.
“Just let me have a taste,” the demon said. “You want it. I know how badly you want it.”
She screamed. She never screamed for Daddy.
The demon laughed. Daddy never laughed.
The undead demon-Patrick arched backward, and a bright explosion of fire through its black mouth blinded Mina. She felt the weight of the demon fall upon her legs until it was shoved off the bed by the woman who just saved her.
“I didn’t save you,” Agent Rose said.
She pointed her gun at Mina’s face, pushing the warm barrel against her cheek, shoving her back onto the pillow.
“You don’t want this power?” Rose asked. “You don’t want this body? I’m going to take it from you. I was always meant to be with Jim. He made me, created me. I didn’t know it before, but I know it now. He made me to be like him, to be with him.”
The hot gun burned into Mina’s face.
“I don’t want to hurt anybody,” Mina said.
“I know. That’s the problem. But it was always supposed to be this way. I’m supposed to have your power. I’m supposed to have your body.”
The gun exploded again, and parts of Mina’s face and hair decorated the mattress, the walls, throwing blood upon a picture of an elephant in a frame above her headboard.
BELLA
Bella stared across the Ambassador Bridge and could feel the tightness in her chest, the swelling of pride in herself that conflicted with the pain of loss and regret. She had come this far, had survived this long, to get here. She had lost everything—maybe—for this moment. There was no looking back.
Desmond might be dead. How would she find out? That question, more than any other, bothered her the most.
With the scarf wrapped around the lower half of her face, she remembered again. His voice on the phone. Coltrane in the background. Stranded on the Ambassador Bridge. She called to ask if he was okay. She called to make sure he was out of danger.
The bridge waited for her. Abandoned cars. The sun-disc dipping beneath a crumbled skyline signaling the end of a day. The dead could see in the
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