Watch Over You Read online

  He crawled back to her but faltered. She had rolled onto her side to watch him, eyes bright. Her long hair was tucked behind her ears and her soft lips parted. The sight of her made his body hunger. He yearned to touch her. If he could have stayed there and just drunk in the sight of her forever, he would have been content.

  “Who are they, Devan?” she asked when he reached her. He didn’t lie back down, not trusting his resolve around her. Instead, he sat himself up and then offered her a hand so that she could do the same.

  “Are you okay?” he asked, ignoring her question.

  “I don’t think okay is the right word. What do they want? Are they gone?” She attempted to kneel, but Devan grabbed her arm and yanked her back down.

  “Don’t look at them.”

  “Why?”

  “Just trust me.” He couldn’t explain it to her. She would not understand. Not yet anyway. He had to get her out of there first. They needed to leave - and fast. The shadows were close now and they weren’t going to back away. They had touched her already; got a taste for her life. Now they wanted her and they wouldn’t stop until they had her. He had been deceived. They’d tricked him. It had all been a lie? Had they simply wanted him to lead them to her? To help them find a way into her world? They’d made a deal, but they weren’t sticking to it.

  He thought back to what he had gone through to get here - the pain, the begging, and the pleading. He had given everything and now it meant nothing. They weren’t going to get her, though. Not even they could keep him away. He recalled that first day, how he couldn’t believe that she was finally sitting right there. He wasn’t going to mess it up this time. They always dragged him right back the moment something went wrong, but each time he had got closer to her, it gave him hope - something to fight for. He had expected them to snatch him up on the bridge as soon as she spoke - a cruel trick. Some part of him knew they couldn’t be trusted when they promised to release him. It didn’t matter to them. He had to get her to the truth. His heart ached for her every day. Something inside him cried out for her. He couldn’t lose her. Not now. The truth was the only thing that would free her from their grasp.

  He slid his hand over and clasped his fingers around hers. They tightened in return around his. He wanted to do so much more. The urge to possess her, smother her and make her safe, was almost too much for him. “We have to leave here,” he rasped.

  “Why? I don’t understand.”

  They both jumped as the sound of the front door rattling suddenly echoed through the house. It rattled like the wind was whipping it, but the air was still outside. Tara clutched at Devan’s hand and he gave it a reassuring squeeze. He pulled her closer, his arm circling her waist and bringing her flush against him. He needed to feel her there. He held her too tight, though, so he loosened his grip a little so that she would be able to stand on her own feet. He was practically lifting her off the floor. Her arms refused to unlatch themselves from around his neck, however. She clung to him, making it hard to move. He kept his legs bent, head down, crouching to avoid being seen.

  “Where are we going?” she asked timidly.

  “Anywhere. Just away from here.”

  “Why? Why are they here?”

  He didn’t answer her again. He didn’t know how to tell her that they were there for her and once they had her, she was never going to get away; no matter how much she pleaded. This was the only chance she had.

  Tara let go of Devan as he crept from the room, but he stretched his hand out behind himself for her to grab. He led her out onto the landing just as the door rattled once more. This time it was louder, more desperate, and they both froze until it was over. Something thudded against the glass panel downstairs - a repetitive thump, thump, thump.

  When things quieted, they crept out to the top of the stairs. Devan had a view of the front door from there. Even in darkness, he could make out the shapes of two shadows. Only the glass door stood between them and what they wanted.

  Still holding onto Tara, he started to descend the steps. Tara resisted, tugging at his hand for him to stop. “I can't,” she whimpered. She wasn’t looking at him. Her gaze was trained on the shadows below, her eyes wide with panic.

  “It’s the only way.”

  “They’re right there.”

  “They’re on the other side. It’s okay. But we don’t have long. We need to go now.” He followed Tara’s gaze. The letter box pushed open. Ominous dark smoke spilled in like the remnants of fire pouring through. “We don’t have much time. We have to go,” he pleaded.

  He gripped her hand tighter this time. At that moment, he didn’t care if he hurt her or if he crushed her hand. Getting her out was his priority and if he had to do that with her kicking and screaming, then so be it. He could apologise later. She could be mad at him later, but right now, he needed her out. He yanked her arm hard as he descended a couple more steps.

  His arm was jerked backwards as Tara gripped the bannister and refused to move. “Come on,” he growled his command at her. “We have to go.” A sudden buzzing sounded in his ears, like the low hum of a television, only louder. It pressed down on him. He swayed and the darkness in his peripheral vision grew and threatened to steal his sight. His face started to feel like it was melting. He shook his head to try to relieve it, but when he opened his eyes, the world around him was nothing but dark swirls. Tara called his name from a distance. God damn it! He wasn’t going to go like this.

  He clutched at his head, willing his vision and lucidity back. The swallow began to burn in his palm.

  When he opened his eyes, Tara’s terror-stricken face stared back at him. There was more fear on her face now than when he had found her in her room, one of those things looming outside the window. He knew that his eyes had gone black. She shook her head and started to back up the stairs, but he leapt for her. She tried to move out of the way, but he was faster. He seized her hand and didn’t let go. “Don’t be scared,” he said in a voice that wasn’t quite his own. “It’s me. Okay?”

  “You’re one of them?” she said, shaking her head and trying to pull away from him and what he was. Her eyes darted across his face. He could feel her fear. It sank into him, creating an anxiety of his own in his chest. “Let me go.”

  “No.”

  “What do you want?” she was crying now. Her voice choked with sobs. She pulled hard to free her hand from his, but he just held on tighter. He knew if he let her go, she would run - and she would run right into them. “Please. Let me go,” she begged.

  She was trembling as she used her other hand to clutch at his wrist and wrench her hand free. Her fear was growing, each second duplicating it. He could hear it inside. The erratic thoughts of her mind as she broached the line to cross over into hysterics. He moved himself up a step so that they were on the same level. He took both of her hands in his and held her still to look her right in the eyes. “Do you trust me?” he asked her.

  “You’re one of them,” she repeated again.

  “I’m not. I can't explain, but I’m not.”

  She shook her head and tried to pull free. With a sudden oath, he captured her face, holding it firm between his hands, and planted his mouth hard against hers. He kissed her the way he wanted to - hungry and needing. Like a man who had been starving for three years…and he had. He kissed away every fear she had. Every thought that made her more scared than the last. He kissed her so hard that all she would be able to think about was him and only him. He kissed her the way he had wanted to that day at the cemetery. He growled in satisfaction when he felt her melt against him. “Do you feel that Tara?” he asked gruffly when he released her mouth. “Do you feel me inside your mind?”

  She nodded.

  “I’m not like them. I promise. I can't explain it to you right now, but I need for you to trust me. Can you do that?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “I won’t let them hurt you. Whatever happens, okay?” He caught her hand in his again and then pressed their jo
ined hands over her heart. “Do you feel your heartbeat? You feel me in there? You have to trust me. Your heart trusts me.” Taking hold of her other hand, he pressed it over his heart. “Do you feel my heart beating?”

  She nodded again and whispered. “Yes.”

  “Close your eyes Tara. Feel our heartbeats. Do you feel them?”

  They drummed together. Two hearts beating as one.

  She opened her eyes slowly, calmer. “How is that possible?”

  “I promise to you that I will explain. I can't right now. We have to leave. Trust me?”

  She gave a weak nod and he let go of her hands, certain this time that she would not run away.

  “Follow me.” He crept down the stairs, but when he looked back, Tara hadn’t moved. He nodded in encouragement and waved for her to come down. “It’s okay. I promise. I won’t let them hurt you.” The smoke was on the floor. It didn’t spread out, but piled up on itself, forming a more solid mass. Watching as it rose up from where it landed, Devan knew what it was forming and the sight filled him with dread. It was like watching sand drain in an hour glass. Soon, the smoke would transform and one of them would be inside. Tara would be lost.

  When he reached the bottom of the stairway, he looked back to Tara. She was on the middle step. “You can do it,” he urged. He glanced back at the smoke, watching it gradually grow in size. It formed legs and then knees. It was pouring in faster. The door rattled again. Another shadow moved closer. Now the pile was up to the thighs, the shape of its feet becoming clearer by the second.

  Tara clutched her chest as she watched the transition taking place right before her eyes. “We have to go Tara. There’s no time.” He held both hands out to her. She took one cautious step, her eyes darting from him to the smoke and back again. “I’ve got you. Come on.” She took one last fearful look at the smoke and then lunged herself at Devan. He caught her as she flew into his arms, and relief filled him from the inside out. He led her by the wrist, running through the dining room to the kitchen. He tried the back door, but it was locked. “Where’s the key?” he yelled.

  She ran over to the sink. There was a tin on the side. She rummaged inside and then tipped the contents out. Buttons and coins clattered everywhere as she spread them around and pulled out the key.

  Devan snatched it from her and fumbled to get it in the door.

  “Don’t open it,” she cried. “They’re out there.”

  Unheedingly, he opened the door with caution and poked his head out, intent on getting himself and Tara out of there. He checked both ways, but it was just darkness. Normal, ordinary darkness that didn’t move, didn’t eat people up. The shadows hadn’t reached this far yet, but they would soon. He reached back behind him for Tara and as soon as her hand slipped into his, he launched himself from the house, dragging her along. They ran across the patio, across the grass and past the shrubs and the potted plants, down into the shadows at the depths of the garden. Devan didn’t look back.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Tara trailed behind Devan. She didn’t know what his destination was or how far they had run. She didn’t even think to take a mental note. As she held onto Devan’s hand and followed him blindly, heart and logical brain argued. Her mind devised so many scenarios, but her heart overruled - it knew what it wanted. Something in his eyes said that he was sincere. Maybe it was the fear he had displayed himself. That was real. His panic had been evident, but he was one of them. She couldn’t ignore that. It meant something. It had to. She should have been afraid of him, but for some inexplicable reason, she wasn’t.

  They slowed when they reached a path. It was old and abandoned. Weeds scrambled over each other and sprouted up through cracks. Moss covered the edges; free to roam where no one had evidently stepped in a long time. Something was familiar to her, yet as she fumbled through the memories in her mind trying to locate the source, she came up blank. Devan swung the gate open, and it squealed a sullen protest. Years of neglect had caused the red paint to peel off, allowing rust to take generous bites of the metal beneath. Tara did know this place. She knew she did…but it wasn’t right. It couldn’t be. An old concrete fence surrounded the premises. Bits of the posts were missing, chipped away from time and the elements. Rusted poles formed and supported the structure. Tara recalled that there had been sharp points reoccurring along the top of the fence, but many of them were now smashed away. The once neatly cut grass was wild and tall. Litter and discarded bags scattered the grounds. It had been a community centre, a long time ago, bursting with life and activities. A place that people had come to for comfort and friendship, not just the events that were being held. It pained her heart to see the windows boarded up. Even the main double doors that were originally painted blue with a pretty flower decoration were nothing more than rotted wood and weathered memories.

  Images of the past fluttered into Tara’s mind as she took everything in. There was always a woman at the steps that led up to the front. What was her name? Marie? She would sit there in her chair with her bucket for collection. She’d sit there all day just reading her book. She’d stop and chat with the people coming and going. The picture brought a wistful smile to Tara’s face as she mentally walked through her memories.

  After a moment, her smile turned to a frown. It couldn’t be this place, though. It was impossible. That place was miles away. In her old life - gone from this one. It was at the other end of the country, nestled in the heart of Devon. Not north of England, where she lived now. She missed it so badly. Maybe one day she could go back; that was if her heart could stand it. She loved the way people were down there. She missed her home, but Eric had been worth giving it up.

  Devan pushed down on the handle of one of the doors and found it wasn’t locked. Shoving it open, he pulled Tara in after him. “Should we be here?” Uncertainty laced her voice as she surveyed her surroundings. It was just as she remembered, freeze-framed from a long time ago. It looked the same. Felt the same. It even smelt the same. The only thing that was missing was the life that used to thrive within these walls. Folding tables were stacked at the side of the small stage. Chairs were piled three high along the walls. “It can't be,” she whispered again. She let go of Devan’s hand. “It isn’t possible.”

  He didn’t speak to her. He was too busy dashing about the place, checking doors, checking the windows, even though they were boarded up. Back and forth he went, carrying chairs to barricade the double doors. He found an old broom and wedged it between the handles. “We should be okay for a little while,” he muttered to himself.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I don’t think they will find us here yet. Maybe we can stay the night, move when its daylight?”

  Neither of them was talking to each other. Devan’s mind was focused on keeping the shadows out and Tara was staring at everything like she had walked through some kind of time warp. He stood in front of her when he was satisfied the place was as secure as he could make it. “Will you answer me now?” she asked. “What’s going on? This place…?” His eyes were back to normal; almost back to normal at least. They were blue again, but brighter than before. He was different, though. Bigger, he didn’t look sick like he had just a few hours ago. He looked stronger.

  “You know this place, don’t you?” he asked.

  It didn’t matter how many times she visually inspected everything and mapped those things out in her mind, disbelief still had its firm grasp. “It can't be true. I can't be here.”

  “Tell me about it, Tara. Tell me what this place is.”

  “Did you do this? Is this part of everything?”

  “What is it, Tara?” He reached for her, but she pulled away. Walking backwards, she shook her head and refused to believe what it was that her eyes were telling her.

  She studied every inch - from the floor, up along the walls, to posters she remembered, even up to the ceiling where the occasional cork board was missing, leaving only a dark hole. “You did this, didn’t you? You brought me
here on purpose? How could you? Is it even real? Did you read my mind? Steal my memories. What are you?” Her voice escalated with each question. Her arms worked as fast as her mouth. Devan grabbed her, his expression stern.

  “Tell me what this is, Tara. Tell me where we are.”

  The words were in her mouth, but it was impossible to say them. A million memories came rushing into her mind, putting her right there. Every corner. Every table. Every chair. Each of them held something more than before. It felt real. It looked real. “This shouldn’t be here.”

  Devan’s grip loosened and Tara slid from his grasp. As if in a trance, she turned slowly, taking it all in. She blinked, hoping that when she opened her eyes again, everything would simply have changed and none of this would be real.. She didn’t understand. Maybe it wasn’t the same place. Maybe this was some kind of illusion. As she walked towards one of the doors, every part of her brain was seeing the place as if she were there. This wasn’t just familiar. This was the hall. The centre. She marched over to a door at the other side with full intention of yanking it open to try to burst the memory bubble she was captivated in, but as she clamped her hand down on the handle, she froze. Fear knotted inside her stomach. What if this was the same place? What would it mean if she opened it and everything was there? What would she find? She wasn’t so sure she wanted to know.

  “What is in there?” she heard Devan murmur from right beside her.

  “You know already?”

  He didn’t answer, but that didn’t matter. Her mind was drifting between the past and understanding what was happening. She turned the handle, heart beating wildly. Smells flooded out and washed over her, overwhelming her senses. Everything in it was just the same, just as she remembered it. Her eyes drifted shut for a moment and a sob caught in her throat.. “It can't be,” she whispered. Canvasses were propped against the wall - half-finished paintings. Boxes of paints and brushes sat on the shelf above. Table-top easels rested at the other side. She reached out and traced her fingers across the tops of the pictures as if at any moment, they would vanish.