"You've known who he is the whole time. You knew his identity. Why didn't you speak up when we found their bodies? You kept saying you had no idea who the assailants were." I yell as much as my voice will let me. My throat is not completely healed, and the strain today has it nearly raw. "Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, drained of emotion. My mind reels, trying to figure out how he could keep this kind of information to himself.
"He wasn't only after them that night. They wanted to kill you and your mom. That's why I got her out first. He's also your great-uncle—the sheriff's younger brother, Elias Dawson." Donovan's face is full of fear and regret.
"What are you saying? I'm so confused," I say, staggering backward. Agent Williams catches my shoulders to keep me from falling. "Are you saying the sheriff tried to have my mother and me killed before I was born, and the man who tried was related to him—to me? Does Andy know what his father tried to do?"
"Yes, the sheriff did, and yes, Elias is your great-uncle, and no, your dad doesn't know any of this. At least I don't think he does. My Dad found out Sheriff Dawson was bad-mouthing your mom around town, saying the baby was someone else's and Amber was trying to trap his son. Real charming man—if charm came with a badge and a shovel. So Dad confronted him with files of his corruption. He wanted him to leave your mother alone. Only it backfired; we started getting threatening letters. Then things spiraled, which led to that night," Uncle Donovan explains, tears running down his face. All I can think is that it's my fault my family is hurt.
"So you lied to me from the beginning. That's why you were so shocked to see me. You thought we'd been caught that night. You thought we were dead." I yell for no reason other than my mind is at a breaking point. He isn't my enemy; I just have no one else to project my frustration onto.
"Please, Roxanne, let me explain," Uncle Donovan begs.
I look at Uncle Donovan, feeling the heaviness of what he has been through. He has been supportive and caring, but I see the burden he carries as he relives the night that shattered our family, and I feel a deep ache for both of us.
"I didn't tell you because I knew he was dangerous. I thought he was still alive and that his goal was you—that he wanted you dead or wanted to hand you over to his allies. If he learned the truth and you started questioning him, he would come after you and finish the job. I never expected him to be here, tormenting us like the world's worst houseguest," he explains.
The entity surges forward, slamming Uncle Donovan against the wall. He cries out; the sound is painful and raw.
"You lied to her and hid the truth. You took the fun out of my game," the entity snarls, its voice layered with something inhuman.
"I was trying to protect her from you and them," Uncle Donovan says, gasping, struggling to breathe. "Clearly, my plan needs workshopping."
"You failed. She's mine," it taunts, leaning closer, only inches from Uncle Donovan's face. Agent Williams steps forward, grabbing a broken chair leg from the floor. He swings it at the entity, which dodges it. He quickly throws it, and the black mass catches it midair without even looking. The wood splinters in its grip, as if it is made of paper. Agent Williams stumbles back, eyes wide. The entity—Elias—looks from the agent to me.
"You were never meant to be born. You were a mistake, and someone wouldn't let me kill you. My brother was furious when he found out you were alive. All he saw was how you and your mother were destroying Andrew's life. Now I can finally finish what I started, and nothing the other mister can do will stop me." A cold, hard hand wraps around my already damaged throat, the invisible grip tightening and sending a wave of dread through me.
"Please, no, not again," runs through my head. My nails claw at my neck as I gasp for air. My feet start to lift off the ground, making the pressure worse. Blackness starts to filter in from the sides of my eyes. My consciousness slowly wanes, and I fight to keep it under control and stay awake. I don't know how much longer I can hold on.
"Roxanne," Agent Williams shouts as he lunges toward me.
"Let her go. Take me instead," Uncle Donovan pleads with Elias as he struggles to his feet, his voice breaking. The black mass of Elias pauses for a moment, then throws me, sending me flying backward into the hallway wall. Pain explodes through my ribs, disorienting me. Agent Williams drops to his knees beside me, his hands shaking as he checks my breathing.
"Stay with me, Roxanne. Stay with me," he says softly. The front door explodes open as someone charges inside towards me.
"Why would I want you?" the entity snarls at Donovan. "It was never about you or your brother and sister. It was always about Roxanne, Amber, and your mother. You're just a bump in my way." The entity roars again, charging toward Uncle Donovan. "That's rude," Uncle Donovan snaps, dodging before it can harm him. "I've been called worse, but usually by people with faces."
"Rocky?" a familiar voice yells, and relief floods through me; it's my Zeke. He runs in, doesn't hesitate, and grabs the iron fireplace poker leaning by the entryway; it is the closest thing to a weapon available to him. He sprints toward the entity.
"Leave them alone. Get away," Zeke shouts. The entity turns its flickering form toward him. Zeke swings the poker with everything he has. When it connects, the entity shrieks. The sound is so piercing that it hurts my ears. I clap my hands over my ears to try to block the noise. Its form ripples, distorted like smoke hit by a gust of wind.
"How did you...?" Agent Williams asks, stunned.
"I'll explain outside," Zeke says as he grabs my arm, pulling me up to my feet. Then, without warning, he picks me up into his arms, heading for the front door.
"Go! Go!" Uncle Donovan shouts as he limps toward the door with us. "Nobody wins a staring contest with a demon cloud." The entity, Elias, is reforming, roaring with anger. Everyone else runs for the door except Agent Williams, who dives for his gun, positioning himself between us and the creature as we hurry away.
As we burst through the door onto the porch, Zeke sets me down to make sure the other two make it out. He turns toward the entrance, ready to help in any way he can, but Agent Williams and Uncle Donovan burst out, almost running him over. The entity crashes against the threshold, roaring fiercely but unable to cross. An unseen barrier seals it in, crackling with static and holding it back. Frustrated, the entity screams again, rattling the windows. Zeke pulls me into his embrace. His familiar scent surrounds me, soothing my trembling frame.
"I've got you," he whispers fiercely. "I'm here," he says softly as he strokes my hair, the way someone would comfort a scared child. Behind us, the entity's voice echoes through the house, dripping with rage.
"You can't hide forever, little girl; they'll find you, or I will," it laughs—a sound I never want to hear again. It makes my veins run ice cold. The door slams shut on its own. Zeke's grip tightens around me. Agent Williams still has his gun raised at the house, even though he knows it won't help. Maybe it makes him feel like he is still in control. Uncle Donovan looks like a man about to collapse under the weight of everything he has kept buried. He wipes his face with the back of his hand, shaking uncontrollably.
"Roxanne, there's more you need to know," he says, staring at me. "And I swear, if family secrets were furniture, this porch would need a permit."
"More?" I mumble. "What more could there be?"
"I'm pretty sure Elias Dawson didn't work alone," he states. "Because apparently one murderous nightmare wasn't enough for this family tree."
"Wait," Zeke says, confused. "That thing's name is Elias Dawson? Does Andy know about any of this?" Ignoring Zeke's confusion, I turn to stare at my uncle.
"What do you mean he didn't act alone?" I ask, curious but worried about someone else out there ready to attack. Donovan hesitates through a long, painful silence before he forces himself to continue.
"I don't think he was the only one who wanted our family dead. I'm pretty sure this person wanted you after you were born." Donovan's words hit me one by one. Why would someone want me as an infant? My breath catches as the realization comes over me. Zeke slowly sets me down on the wicker couch beside me.
"Do you have any idea who this person is?" I ask, my voice barely above a whisper.
"I'm not sure. Someone with power who could make things disappear. Someone who... had feelings for your grandmother, and she didn't return them. I heard Mom and Dad arguing about it once. They never mentioned his name." His voice is strained as he recalls the memories. Today's events are taking a toll on all of us.
My heart pounds as I think about who it could be. Are they still here in this town? The questions run through my head in rapid fire. All of this shakes me to my core. Everything I think I know has been blown up today.
"Someone hired Elias," Uncle Donovan continues, his voice still cracking. "They must have paid him and promised him things. Maybe even manipulated him. I mean, he was always unstable, but he wasn't the mastermind. Elias couldn't mastermind a sandwich without threatening the bread."
Agent Williams swears under his breath. "So you're telling me Mr. and Mrs. Catalano were murdered because some powerful man couldn't handle rejection." His voice is laced with irritation. This is something he has come across time and time again in his line of work.
"Yes and no. Mom did turn him down, but that's not the only reason. Dad started digging into this person's life and gathering evidence to bring him down. He only ever told me that the corruption in this town runs deep. That's why he didn't want your mom and dad together," he explains, and I feel sick.
"Why didn't you tell me?" I ask, my voice tired and strained.
"Because I think he's still alive, still in power, and watching. I was afraid you would look for him," Uncle Donovan says shakily. "He'd destroy and possibly exploit you, just like he destroyed our family."
"He lies," the entity's voice booms from inside.
Agent Williams steps in front of Zeke, now holding the poker. He raises it, waiting for something to fly out of the house.
"No, no, he's twisting it," Uncle Donovan says, shaking his head as panic rises. "And not in the fun balloon-animal way." The entity slams into the inside of the door, causing it to bow outward.
"Tell her the rest," he snarls. "Tell her why."
"I can't," Uncle Donovan says, backing away, shaking. I stand up and step towards him. Zeke grips my arm.
"Uncle Don… what aren't you telling me?" I ask. My voice is hoarse but steady—steadier than I feel at the moment.
"Your grandmother wasn't the only one he wanted. Sure, someone wanted you dead, but this man wanted you for a whole other reason. "Uncle Donovan's head dips down as he talks, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Which is a sentence I hate saying almost as much as I hate understanding it."
"Why did he want Grandma and me?" I ask, my knees buckling beneath me. Zeke quickly catches me before I hit the ground.
"Since he couldn't have her, he wanted her gift." He says it like I should know what he means. In reality, I am confused.
"Gift? What gift?" Zeke asks, his confusion as plain as mine.
"This man had her killed, trying to force the gift out of her. When he realized it didn't work... he turned his attention to the next in line. The gift always jumps a generation. Your mom didn't have it, but you should," Uncle Donovan explains.
"Me? He wanted to use me for some gift I'm pretty sure I don't have?" I say. The impact of this freezes me, knowing where his next words are headed.
"Yes, you," he says, exasperated. "I'd soften that if I could, but there's no gift wrap for this kind of ugly." Agent Williams swears under his breath, pacing in disbelief. Zeke wraps his arm around me protectively.
"No one's getting near her," Zeke states. But Uncle Donovan isn't done. He wipes his face with a shaking hand.
"Mom and Dad knew he would come for you one day. They made me promise to get everyone out safely that night and to protect Amber and you," he sighs. "I obviously failed. I promised never to tell you the truth. Turns out I'm terrible at both secrets and heroic rescue plans."