Page 60 of The Midnight Knock
Just in time to see one of those creatures outside, through the open back door, as it sprinted down the porch in the direction of Ethan and Hunter’s room. Kyla heard gunfire, shouting. Another creature passed her door. They were everywhere. Outside was a no go.
Kyla skidded sideways, into the bathroom. It seemed like her only option. She slammed the door behind her.
The force of the slam made the glass of her mirror let out achinkof dismay. For a single, suspended moment, Kyla saw a man reflected in her cracked mirror, staring back at her. It wasn’t Jack Allen. For a moment, in the mirror, Kyla saw a short Black man she’d never met and yet who felt oddly familiar. The man was watching her with an expression of profound sadness. It made her think of her father.
Jack Allen struck the door behind Kyla. The crack in the mirror widened, the man on the other side vanished.
Kyla pressed her back to the door, reached a hand backward to fumble for the lock.
Jack Allen kicked the door, and the glass of the mirror trembled.
Kyla turned the lock.
Jack Allen kicked the door again.
The cracked mirror shattered.
A great rush of hot air washed through the bathroom. Shards of glass chimed like bells as they fell into the sink.
And on the other side of the shattered mirror, Kyla saw the dead city of her dreams.
As if the frame of the mirror had become the frame of a window, Kyla found herself staring out from one of those curved stone buildings. She saw the silver streets, a faceless monument, trees and grass growing slowly in a pale light. Hot air rushed over her face.
In the distance, Kyla saw a great column of silver energy rising toward the city’s everblack sky. The silver column seemed to scream, and a moment later, the mountain behind the motel let out one of its awful bellowing moans.
Of course, Kyla thought.Of course.
A shotgun boomed outside the motel. Closer to hand, she heard two loud pops and felt a searing pain in her back. Two bullets passed through the door and crashed into the porcelain of the sink.
They passed through Kyla’s chest too.
Without wanting to, Kyla sank to the floor. Blood was suddenly everywhere. With a final sharp kick, Jack Allen got the door open. It smacked against Kyla’s heel, though she didn’t feel the blow. She struggled to crawl away, but her limbs were heavier than her body could handle. Darkness was already closing in the edges of her vision. A terrible sadness seemed to be slowing her heart, though that was probably just all the blood loss.
Kyla realized there was so much she didn’t understand about tonight. What was on the film Ryan had stolen from Sarah’s room? Why had Stanley turned up to dinner with a busted lip? Where had Fernanda disappeared to in those few minutes before dinner? Where was Penelope?
Where was Penelope?
Kyla saw herself reflected in her blood on the tile. Maybe she deserved this. Retribution for what she’d done to Lance this afternoon. Retribution for all the people she hadn’t saved these last six months. For the shambles she’d made of her life.
In her last moments, at least, Kyla had one satisfaction. As Jack Allen stepped into the bathroom, Kyla’s own gun smoking in his hand, the man hesitated at the sight of the mirror. A look of absolute shock came over his face, a profound awe. He reached out his hand, the one with the mangled finger, looking for a moment like he hoped to reach through the mirror and climb through to the city on the other side.
A brilliant flash of silver light burned through the room. Jack Allen recoiled with a grunt of pain. From where she lay on the cold tile, she could see a sliver of the mirror. It was simply a piece of shattered glass again. Nothing waited inside its frame but a cinder block wall.
Outside, a second shotgun blast tore through the night.
Jack Allen was still staring at the place the city had been. “That… that’s never happened before.”
With the last of her strength, Kyla asked the most obvious question of all. “Why… are you… hurting us?”
“I told you, Miss Hewitt. I will have audience once more. I will commune again with Te’lo’hi. With The Lake That Travels. The silver god that fell from the stars.” Jack Allen’s old self was returning to him: his grinding smile, his lethal courtesy. He turned to her with a banal little shrug. “And you people are standing in my way.”
“H-how?”
“I’ll make this last part painless, Miss Hewitt. It’s the least I can do. Your grandfather was always kind to me.”
“You knew—my grand—”
Almost like an afterthought, Jack Allen raised the gun and fired a bullet into Kyla’s face.
