Chapter 14
The Browning girls crept their way through the dark forest, making no sound and gesturing to each other occasionally, with Truman taking up the rear, about ten feet behind them. It was their typical hunting pattern when they were approaching unknown territory. Stopping about one hundred yards away from the rugged yet ornate log cabin that housed the ranger station, Grace turned and motioned towards her father.
Pointing, she raised her eyebrows. Through the front door?
Truman shrugged in reply and pointed to himself and then towards the back end of the house. You go, I'll take around back.
Grace nodded her approval and pulled the long silver blade from the holster on her belt. She glanced towards Serra and nodded. Barely breathing, she leaned in to Serra and mouthed, "If you shoot me, I will kill you."
Serra smiled wryly and shook her head while rolling her eyes. With that, the girls took off, crouched towards the ground, but moving quickly up the slope that led to the giant log cabin. When they reached the manicured lawn, Tru split away from the girls and headed around the house, moving stealthily towards the rear of the cabin.
Grace took a deep breath, calming her adrenaline. Glancing at her sister, she shook her head at the grin on her face. "You need to chill," Grace whispered into Serra's hair. "This isn't a game."
"Yeah, well," Serra breathed, "sure feels that way."
Ignoring her, Grace stood long enough to peer into the window of the front door. She tested the handle and smiling lightly at their luck, turned the knob silently and let the door swing open slowly. She raised her own Colt forty-five and used the barrel to nudge the door wide enough to step through. The shimmer of the nickel plating glistened in the darkness and the engraving of roses contrasted starkly against the shine.
The entry way was void of people, but a podium greeted them with a guest book and pen, waiting for their names, email addresses, and donations to help with the preservation of National Parks. Grace stepped around the podium as her sister tried to close the door softly. A gust of wind picked up through the house, telling her that the back door had been opened as well. It forced the front door closed with a slam that rattled the front window, even though Serra had thrown her arm towards the door, attempting to slow it down. A pile of brochures flitted to the ground and Grace squeezed her eyes closed, hoping that there had been no one to hear the racket the door had made.
"I'm sorry!" Serra whispered, moving away from the oak door.
Grace shook her off, listening hard. She could almost feel another person in the house with them, so she moved again, heading towards the living room that was filled with dioramas of wildlife found in this part of the country. Serra moved with her as if she was part of her body, slowing when Grace slowed, speeding up when she sped up. As they hesitated in the doorway of the living room, Grace breathed a sigh of relief, seeing that Paul was still alive.
Feeling her sister hesitate, Serra turned towards the direction that Grace faced. "Paul," she sighed, still almost silent. Glancing up at Grace, she smiled, but it faltered at the look on her sister's face. "Trap?"
"Feels that way," Grace replied.
Falling silent once more, Serendipity watched as Grace took a step into the living room, moving closer to Paul. She watched the breezeway above the room on the second floor for movement. Still, nothing happened.
Sensing movement, Paul turned his head as far as he could to try to see behind him. "Look, if you're gonna kill me, just get it over with," he muttered. "I'm getting tired of waiting and my ass is asleep."
"Keep your voice down," Grace whispered. "Where is the wraith?"
The wooden chair creaked under the stress of Paul's turn as he tried to see Grace, knowing it was her voice that carried across the living room. "Grace?" he whispered. "That you?"
She answered with silence as she approached the chair. She flipped open her switch blade and sliced through the duct tape that held Paul to his chair as Serra covered her, raising her guns towards the upstairs landing, where her sister had been looking only seconds before.
Paul rubbed his wrists absentmindedly as Grace cut his ankles free. "Where is the wraith?" she asked again, pocketing her knife and flicking the safety off her gun.
"There're two," Paul answered, standing and glancing around. "Is Tru okay?"
Nodding, Grace turned towards the back of the cabin. "He's clearing the back," she replied. "Where, Paul?"
"I don't know," he said, shaking his head. "She came in to tease about how I would make a perfect dinner for her husband, but she walked away and hasn't been back."
"Then let's get the flock out of here," Serra commented, smiling briefly. She shook her head, slightly disappointed. "I screwed that joke up," she said. "I think I missed the first half of it."
There was a creak from upstairs and Grace moved protectively towards Serra, purely out of habit. "Let's go," Grace whispered.
"What about the wraiths?"
"We'll come back when we're more prepared," Grace answered. "We'll deal with them when we're on our turf."
"Let's deal with each other now, here on our turf," a strong male voice came from behind the group. "I love the taste of hunters. They're always so fresh…so tart." The male wraith smiled sweetly as Grace, Serra, and Paul turned towards him slowly. "Do you have any idea what the adrenal gland does for the brain?"
There was movement from behind them as well and Grace shook her head. "Goddamn it," she breathed.
"See?" the male asked, raising his eyebrows. "Your adrenaline has begun pumping through your system and I can already smell a difference. You will taste…decadent."
Grace heard Serra click the safety off both of her weapons as she mentally prepared for the fight. The hallway door flew open and Truman stood, breathing heavily, holding his silver blade at his side, ready for action. Pivoting her head towards him incrementally, Grace nodded as the living room erupted into action.
Taking a deep breath and following the female target with her guns, Serendipity Browning breathed out slowly and upon her exhale, unloaded four shots, back to back, at the female wraith. She was too fast for her aim, however, and she dove deftly out of sight, hiding behind an enormous oak desk.
"Crap," Serra whispered and held her aim on the desk, waiting for another chance.
Grace had already fired twice at the male wraith, but he ducked out of the way and jumped towards Grace, turning the attack on her. He hit her across the face, hard, knocking her to the ground as Truman fired three times towards him.
Screaming as the silver bullet made contact in his arm, the wraith hissed and launched himself towards Truman, knocking Paul to the ground as he did so. Tru rolled out of the way, moving towards his daughters as he and the male wraith traded places. Truman helped Grace to her feet and nodded encouragingly at his eldest. "We got this," he whispered. "Lead him. Take him down."
Grace nodded as she wiped hair out of her face with her arm and turned towards the female wraith and fired repeatedly towards the oak desk, changing her tactic completely. Truman did the same, but aiming at the male wraith.
Tru and Grace ran out of ammunition at the same time, both dropping their empty clips simultaneously and reloading with one movement. Grace listened, trying to distinguish exactly where the female wraith was hiding.
"They have the advantage," Grace whispered into Serra's ear. "They know the ins and outs of the cabin. Stay alert."
Nodding, Serra listened for anything that would give a hint at the wraiths' location; the man had disappeared into the darkness as well. Truman took a breath and sighed, attempting to calm the ringing in his ears. They pivoted together, Truman and Grace changing positions as they tried to see the cabin from a different angle. Paul was in the middle of their circle, completely unarmed and waiting; his breathing shallow and panicked.
Serra heard it first. The weakened oak desk shifted as something or someone moved behind it. She refocused her aim and fired, getting a scream from the female wraith as her silver bullet found its target. Tru clapped his daughter on the shoulder and moved towards the oak desk to check the damage she caused. Suddenly, Paul gasped as he was shoved to the floor and Grace's forty-five clattered to the ground.
"Don't," the strong, male voice called out. "Don't move," he continued. "Put the blades and the guns on the ground."
Truman and Serra turned slowly towards the sound of the voice and both sighed in tandem as they watched Grace roll her eyes, annoyed at the fact that the wraith held his arm around her neck and chest, clutching her close to his body, and using her as a shield.
"Put your weapons down. All we want to do is leave," the wraith explained. "Annette?" he asked, aiming his voice towards the oak desk. "Annie?" There was a groan from the woman, who was obviously in pain, meaning Serra had made contact with her silver bullets. The sound seemed to raise desperation in the male wraith and he tightened his grip around Grace. "Allow us to leave and you will not be harmed," he growled. "I will take her as insurance."
"You'll die trying," Tru grumbled. "You've been feeding on innocents for weeks. You're not leaving here breathing."
Grace pursed her lips and lifted her blue eyes towards her baby sister, making eye contact across the room. Ever so slightly, she raised one of her eyebrows. It was barely a twitch. It was enough.
In one movement, Grace closed her eyes as Serra raised both of her new guns. Time seemed to slow down and Tru attempted to stop the younger, holding out one of his hands. Serendipity took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, firing twice with each of the matching silver-on-black engraved Colt forty-fives. The four shots echoed through the house and the male wraith collapsed behind Grace, taking her to the ground with him.
"Holy shit," Paul breathed as he followed Tru to the ground, running towards Grace and the male wraith. Serra turned on her heels and strode towards Annette, the female wraith that lay wounded behind the oak desk. With two more shots, Serra ended it with silver through her skull.
Kneeling beside his eldest daughter, he reached for her face tentatively. "Grace?" he whispered. There was blood splattered across her porcelain skin; a wild spray pattern from where Serra had put two bullets through the male's left eye socket.
She opened her bright blue eyes and took a deep breath through her mouth, trying to avoid the blood that dripped down her face. She squinted, keeping the blood from smearing into her eyes. Reaching down, Tru lifted the wraith's arm off of his daughter's chest and helped her up. She used her shirt to wipe the blood from her face and shook her head, trying to clear her head.
"You okay?" Tru asked, glancing back at Serra cautiously.
Grace stared at Serra and nodded slowly. "My ears are still ringing pretty good, but yeah," she explained quietly. She flicked her gaze towards her father and sighed. "You're lucky she's a good shot."