Page 5 of Blood Illusions

Damon bent down, stuck his finger in the white granules, and sniffed. He licked it.

I pushed his shoulder. “Damon, don’t. It could be poisonous.”

“Relax.” He looked up at me. “It’s salt. Why the hell is salt sprayed all over this place?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

There was no one here. Nothing but the soft red leather furniture and the polished table glinting in the light.

Damon inched down the hallway, and I followed close behind, guiding him with the flashlight on my phone. Shadows hid slightly beyond the light as if they were playing a cat-and-mouse game with us.

Thud.

The sudden sound from my father’s bedroom sent shockwaves through me.

Damon and I paused outside the bedroom door, glancing at each other with terror. Something or someone was in there. We pressed our backs against the wall in case anyone tried to jump us from behind. Dad had taught us that move.

Damon steeled himself, then flung the door open with one swift kick. Adrenaline surged through me as we charged into the room, poised for an attack.

His bed was perfectly made, and nothing seemed out of place. Dad insisted on keeping his bedroom exactly the way Mom left it before she died. That was fifteen years ago.

Damon and I were only seven when she died. Now, we’d recently celebrated our twenty-second birthday. Another year without Mom.

Damon quietly crept toward the closet doors. I held my breath as I shone the light from my phone onto the wooden doors, anxiously waiting for something to appear. He slid one aside to reveal Dad’s folded shirts and pants on shelves, his dress shirts and his one suit hauntingly neat. His shoes were lined up undisturbed at the bottom.

With a resigned sigh, Damon hustled past me toward the master bathroom. Nothing lurked in the shower or bathtub. Everything was eerily spotless.

I turned and faced the massive navy blue quilt on Dad’s bed. Something caught my eye. My stomach churned as I edged closer. Several thick red stains splattered across the fabric. With trembling hands, I rolled my finger over the damp fabric, then inspected it. I sniffed and cringed as I inhaled a metallic smell.

Damn it.

“Damon,” I whispered.

He stepped from the bathroom. “What?”

I shone my phone onto the quilt. “We’ve got a bloodbath here.”

He yanked back the quilt. Blood had soaked through onto the blanket and sheets underneath. “Well, this is turning into a real horror show. Let’s hope it’s not Dad’s starring role.”

I heard a soft noise from under the bed.

Before I could move, Damon was on the ground, checking it out. “Nothing,” he mumbled, standing back up fast. “We gotta sweep the house. Dad could be playing hide-and-seek with a wound somewhere.”

“Great.” I threw my arms up. “Because what this night needed was a game of bloody hide-and-seek.” I lowered my voice. “So could the thing that attacked him.”

“Terrific.” Anger flashed in Damon’s eyes. “We also need a monster playing tag in the mix.”

He edged to the hallway again. “Come on. Stick to me like glue. Last thing we need is you becoming monster chow.”

I stiffened. “I can take care of myself.”

“Fine. One-woman show. Let’s move.”

I wanted to argue that we should split up, but he’d only turn on his protective mode. The last thing we needed was an argument when there could be something lurking in the house and Dad could be wounded somewhere.

We walked into my bedroom, and I pulled open the heavy plantation shutters to let in more light. My stuffed animals were still arranged neatly on my bed, and I smiled at how familiar the room still felt. Everything seemed exactly as I’d left it, including my wooden jewelry box on the dresser, along with a picture of my mother.

My mother and I shared the same blonde hair, blue eyes, and strong jawline, but our styles couldn’t have been more different. While mine was long and straight, cascading halfway down my back, hers had been chopped into a sleek bob that brushed her chin. She thought long locks posed a danger to a huntress. She always worried something might pull her hair.

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