The Demon Inside, page 26
"It had to be done." Mac repeated. Disgusted, Darcy forced herself to turn away before she did something rash.
Chapter Twenty Six
They buried both Charlotte and Lizzie the next day. Lizzie was lain to rest in the
woodlands around the farm, where she had once lived, in the early hours of the morning, just as the sun was rising over the hills to the East, burning away the early morning fog; that was where Will claimed she would have wanted to end up. On the other hand, Charlotte was buried in hallowed ground, at a proper church with a proper burial service. Everybody came, even Mr Johnson, and they all stood around the grave, with rain drizzling down on them and the ground squelching beneath their feet, as the gleaming oak coffin, which Alec and Rory had scavenged from a funeral parlour on the outskirts of town, was lowered into the ground. Understandably sombre, with an unexplainable injury to his hand which was covered by a stark white bandage, David read a poem at his daughter’s graveside, his voice choked and halting as his red rimmed eyes scanned the sheet of paper he held in trembling fingers.
A tear slid down Darcy’s cheek and then another and another, blending in with the rain that ran down her face. She was crying for Charlotte, of course, but she was also crying for her parents and all the other people who had been victims of the invasion, she was crying for the life that had been stripped from them and grieving the future which appeared dismal at best.
Afterwards, they all retreated to their house, where Darcy hurried around supplying everyone with drinks and food, attempting to make them all comfortable when in truth no one really cared how physically uncomfortable they were; all that mattered was the pain in their hearts. Unaware of what was going on, Oscar toddled around as usual, laughing manically as he chased Lucy around the room and she, in turn, attempted to evade him. Approaching the kitchen door, going in search of more coffee, Darcy paused at the sound of voices. She knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but she couldn't resist edging closer so that she could see through the half open door.
"You've had enough." Mac's voice was sharp as he grabbed something from the other man’s hand. "Drinkin' yourself into oblivion won't help anyone, least of all you," his tone softened ever so slightly, "trust me, I've been there."
"It makes the pain go away."
"No, it doesn't." The statement was indisputable. "It blocks the pain for a while, but once the booze wears off it all comes rushing back and you need more. So you drink and drink to numb the pain, always tellin' yourself that this is the last time, until one day you look up and all the people you loved hate you."
Darcy felt a stab of sympathy; she'd never really considered why Mac had become an alcoholic. Was it possible that everything had just gotten too much and, snowed under, he'd simply reached for something to dim the ugliness of reality? She could only imagine what he'd seen during his time in the army. Not that it excused the way he'd treated his son, but Darcy found she understood his reasons; sometimes she wanted to chug down a bottle of Jack Daniels and just keep going until the harsh edges of the world were blurred and eventually everything was lost in unconsciousness. Peace for a few precious hours. But she knew she could never do that; it would hurt too many people, herself included. Self-destruction had always been more Callie's style.
"They'll hate me anyway," David's voice shook, "when they find out." Leaning forward with baited breath, Darcy's body quivered in nervous anticipation; subconsciously she knew that she was about to find out the reason for the suspicious meetings and she also knew, in the back of her mind, that she probably wouldn't like what was about to be revealed and something inside her quailed, shying away. However, as it turned out, she needn't have worried, because she learnt very little in the next few seconds, in fact, the exchange only raised more questions.
"It was an accident." In an instant, Mac's voice snapped back to his usual sharp, intimidating baritone.
Flinching, David raised his chin nonetheless, though it wobbled slightly, saying thickly, "I killed her, it's my fault my baby's dead and Joanne will never forgive me once she finds out."
"Don't let her find out," Mac shrugged, as if keeping secrets was no big deal. To him it probably wasn't.
For a minute it was silent and Darcy began to consider just walking in, but then David blew out a weary breath, saying weakly, "You're such a bastard."
Snorting, Mac flashed a wolfish grin, which was all teeth and held absolutely no humour, "Booze does that to you, it sucks away all the goodness."
The words chilled her, but Darcy didn't have long to dwell on them. She jumped when David pulled open the door and stepped out into the hallway. Just as startled, his eyes widened and colour filled his ruddy cheeks as he realised she'd been listening. Mouth opening, he stared at her through bloodshot eyes, before his jaw snapped shut again, teeth clacking together loudly. This close she could smell the alcohol on his breath. Watching him walk away, his steps slow and careful, as if trying not to fall, Darcy held his gaze when he paused outside the living room door, one hand braced on the handle, and looked back at her.
For a long moment his eyes drilled into her, before he disappeared into the other room. Letting out a sigh of relief, she turned back around, only to find Mac watching her from where he stood leaning against the kitchen counter. "I...I just came to see if there's any more coffee," she stammered. Even to her own ears the excuse sounded pathetic, despite the fact that it was true. Inclining his head in a whatever-you-say gesture, Mac stepped over to the sink, twisting open the screw cap on the bottle of vodka he held loosely by the neck, his thumb stroking absently over the glass as if caressing a lover.
Hesitantly stepping into the room, Darcy walked over to the cupboard fixed to the wall, setting the dirty mugs, which she had forgotten she was holding, on the counter. With their backs to one another, they both pretended not to notice what the other was doing, but Darcy could see his reflection in the tinted oven door and she watched as he lifted the bottle to his nose, inhaling the invisible fumes.
"I can't believe I'm doing this," she thought she heard him whisper, his eyes closing briefly before he tipped the bottle up and poured the colourless liquid down the drain.
When she returned to the crowded living room, without Mac and without coffee, she paused in the doorway. Standing over by the window, both David and Alec turned to look at her. David's glare was accusing, whereas Alec's was merely guilty as the other man said something to him angrily. Letting the door swing shut behind her, Darcy lifted her chin and began walking over to them, dodging around Lucy as the dog bolted past her with Oscar in pursuit. Seeing her approaching, David scuttled away, leaving Alec standing alone until she reached him.
"What's going on?" She was tired of all the secrecy and she wanted some answers.
"Nothing." He answered too quickly, shaking his head, guilt written across his face; it was in the widening of his eyes, the lines around his mouth, the fact that he couldn't meet her gaze.
"Alec," she demanded sharply, suddenly feeling physically sick as she considered all the possibilities, "what have you done?"
"Nothing," he repeated defensively, taking a step back, "it's nothing to do with you." He could have slapped her and she wouldn't have been as shocked as she was by that statement. Or as hurt.
Watching him retreat, Darcy narrowed her eyes on his back, hurt quickly transforming into irritation, but this was the wrong time and place for a screaming match, therefore, she stored everything up for later, determined not to let it slide this time.
However, as it turned out she needn't have worried, because when she went upstairs that evening it was to find Alec sitting on the edge of the bed with his head in his hands, the very picture of a broken man. In an instant her anger evaporated. Stepping into the room, she shut the door quietly behind her and walked over to him. Crouching down between his knees, she used her hands to frame his face, lifting it until he was forced to look at her.
"Tell me what's wrong," her words were no longer a demand but a plea, as her thumbs stroked gently across his cheekbones, "if you tell me I can help you."
"No," he shook his head vehemently, "no you can't, no one can help. It's done and nothing anyone can do will change that."
"You're not making any sense." Her voice held the bite of desperation; terror had taken root in the pit of her stomach, she couldn't help but think he'd done something unforgivable, "Alec, babe, what have you done?"
"I haven't done anything, you have to believe me,” his eyes latched onto hers desperately, hands gripping her shoulders, “I said no, I told him I wouldn't do it..."
"Do what? Who are you talking about?"
"David. He didn't want it... Lizzie… around his family, which is understandable. I said I'd shoot her if she got out, remember?" At her tight nod, he continued, "So, he said we should make a hole in the trailer, so that it looked like she was getting out..."
"You set her up?" she whispered in disbelief, dropping her hands as she rocked back on her heels.
"No!" His eyes begged her to understand. But she didn't and she didn't know how to condone his behaviour either, "I said no, I told him I wouldn't help. I guess he did it on his own, but I swear I didn't have anything to do with her getting out."
"But you knew about it," Darcy cried incredulously, jumping to her feet and knocking his hands away, "which makes you just as guilty as David. How could you do that to her?" She shook her head at him, narrowing her eyes as she backed away, "It's inhuman."
"They're not human." He yelled back, getting to his feet as she took another step back, dragging a hand through his already dishevelled hair in agitation.
"But we are!" she screamed, throwing her hands up in exasperation; when she had shot that creature, that woman, to save his life all those months ago, the act had haunted her for ages, in fact she still had nightmares, and she just didn't understand how he could be so blasé about causing someone's death.
“Sometime to fight monsters you have to become one.”
"Well, I don't think I like the person you've become." His body stiffened. The words hung between them and part of her wished she could suck them back in, but another part of her, the angry part, the one which didn't care how much the words hurt him in that moment, stuck stubbornly to her guns.
"Then you better look away," he said tersely, but she could see the hurt in his green eyes, "because I see nothing wrong with killing to keep everyone safe."
"Safe?" She snapped, jaw dropping in disbelief, "Safe! Did you see everyone today? They may be 'safe'" – she used those stupid finger air quotes to bracket the word – "but they're heartbroken. A child died, Alec! That's unforgivable and you're partly to blame. You, David and I assume Mac was in on it?"
At his reluctant nod, she looked away, lowering her voice as she said, "You need to leave. I can't bear to be in the same room as you right now." When he didn't move, simply stared at her as if unable to comprehend why she wasn't siding with him like she usually did, she snapped, gesturing to the closed door. "Either you leave, or I will."
This time when he made no move to leave, Darcy made any angry sound in the back of her throat, spun around and strode towards the door. "Okay, okay." Alec said quickly, striding past her, "I'll leave." Getting up, he walked past her to open the door, pausing with his hand on the handle to look at her over his shoulder, adding, "For now."
Chapter Twenty Seven
After the first few days, Darcy lost track of how long she spent locked in her room with the curtains shut, curled up in bed beneath the covers, unable to sleep or do anything other than dwell on all that had happened. She couldn't get Joanne's face out of her head the moment she realised her daughter was dead. So many people had been hurt, but was that really Alec's fault? Was she right to blame him like this, or was she blowing his involvement out of proportion because he had disappointed her, because she had always thought of him as better than that? Unable to help herself, she stared down at the simple engagement ring she wore on her left hand, twirling it around her finger before pulling it off. Without it she felt naked, vulnerable, and around her finger there was a faint imprint. Slipping it back on, she curled her fingers into her palm and tucked her clenched fist against her chest, feeling the beat of her heart as a tear slipped from her eye and ran down her cheek to disappear into her hair.
On the second day Alec came and knocked on the door. He called her name and when she didn't answer she heard him lean against the door with a heavy sigh. His shadow remained for several minutes before he walked away. Disappointment hit her, hard enough to bring more tears to her eyes; she couldn't believe he'd given up so easily. Despite her anger, she still wanted him to fight for her, to show her that he still cared. However, the next person who came to the door, several days later, was not so easily deterred.
"Darcy, open the door now." Callie demanded in her scary, no nonsense, don't screw with me voice. "You've been in there almost a week and your skinny arse can't afford to lose any more weight. Plus, I can smell you from out here." Trust Callie not to beat around the bush. Pressing her face into her pillow, Darcy almost smiled, until her friend said, "You have until the count of three to open this door before I kick it down." And she would, that was the terrifying thing about her, Callie always meant what she said. "One... Two... Th..."
"I'm coming, I'm coming." Throwing back the covers, she scrambled out of the bed and over to the door. Fumbling with the lock, she pulled it open. Without hesitation, Callie pushed inside and slammed the door, locking it once more before turning to her with a frown, hands on hips.
"Are you going to tell me what's going on," she arched an eyebrow, "or am I going to have to beat it out of you? Is it Alec? What’s he done? If he’s hurt you in any way I swear to God I’ll bust his balls…"
“No, no, no.” She lied quickly, instinctively defending him, “It’s not Alec.” Briefly, she considered telling Callie the truth; they'd always been able to confide in one another, ever since they were little girls, but Darcy knew she couldn't tell her friend this.
Callie was with Will and her first loyalty was to him, just as hers was to Alec. Even now, when she thought she might hate him a little, Darcy knew she would stand by him when the going got tough. That loyalty would cause Callie to tell Will whatever Darcy said and she wouldn't betray Alec like that, she wouldn't set everyone against him, so instead she answered with another untruth.
"I guess everything's just getting on top of me," she shrugged, unable to fully meet her friends penetrating gaze, "I'm sorry, I didn't realise I'd been in here so long."
Clearly unconvinced, Callie's eyes narrowed slightly, but she didn’t pry, which was both a colossal relief and a worry since it was so uncharacteristic. “In that case, buck up and get your arse in the shower, because Rebecca’s downstairs with Luc and Elise. Be a good little hostess and go greet your guests.”
Scowling, Darcy grumbled, “Why can’t you do it? I’m not the only one who lives here, you know." However, despite her words, she was already gathering clothes from the wardrobe and heading out of the bedroom towards the bathroom.
"Yeah," Callie smiled sweetly, "but you're just so much better at it." Scowl deepening, she shut the door on her friends’ smug face, only to hear unrepentant laughter a moment later heading off down the hall.
Almost half an hour later – it took forever to heat the water to a temperature she could actually bear, something they now had to do over the fire, using buckets of rain water gathered from one of the numerous water tanks Alec had installed after their running water finally conked out – she hurried back downstairs. In the kitchen Rebecca sat with Callie, watching the children out of the window. In the garden, Elise was playing some unknown game with her brother, while Hope stood on the back step with Luc balanced on her hip, laughing at their antics.
"Speak of the Devil," Rebecca turned her head to smile at her as she entered the room, but though it was welcoming the smile didn't quite reach her sad eyes. Smiling weakly back, Darcy flopped down into a spare chair, which Callie kicked out for her, twisting her wet hair up into a messy bun. She felt as weary and downtrodden as the other woman looked.
"We were just saying," Callie forced a cheery note into the otherwise sombre room, "that we should have a girly night, since everyone's feeling so down: nails, hair, the whole shebang. I know we can't watch any soppy chic flicks but we can still get some popcorn, you know the kind you put in the microwave, well, we could see if we can roast it over the fire. We'll probably end up burning it," she shrugged, "but that's half the fun."
"What are the guys going to do?"
"I don't know," she shrugged again, "they can do whatever guys usually do, as long as they don't do it here."
About to reply that it wasn't exactly fair to unceremoniously kick them out of their own home, Darcy stopped short with her mouth open as she saw Alec rounding the side of the house, heading towards the back door. Upon seeing her through the window, his head shot up and his stride lengthened, quickening. Her stomach twisted. She didn't want to see him. Not yet anyway. Pushing back the chair, she hurriedly excused herself before turning tail and fleeing like a coward. Hearing the back door groan as Alec pushed it open, she shoved her feet into a pair of trainers abandoned in the hall, uncaring of who they belonged to, and escaped out the front.
She didn't know how long she walked for along the deserted road, but eventually, by fate or design, she looked up from the pavement and saw the battered horse trailer in which Lizzie had once lived. Unsure what possessed her, Darcy suddenly found herself using the felled tree propped up against the gate to climb over. Jumping down on the other side, she felt the impact vibrating up through her legs.
Immediately it was clear to see how Lizzie had escaped her prison; there was a gaping hole in one wall, beneath the boarded up window. It was obvious to her that the hole had been started deliberately, even though the metal edges had been dragged back by the fierce wind of the storm, but maybe that was just because she already knew. There were smears of dried blood around the jagged metal edges and she winced, imaging the girl gripping the sharp edges in her bare, dirty hands and trying to drag it backwards so that she could get free.
