Page 42 of A Sanctuary from Shadow
Daddy lay sprawled ignobly on the floor, blood saturating the sheets wrapping his midsection. Gray ringed his clenched eyes, his mouth bunched and quivering.
I’d never seen a person I loved in such a grievous condition. Someone who was mine.
This just couldn’t be happening. My people died of old age, sleeping in their beds after meetingalltheir grandchildren. Not of violence. Not so suddenly.
And Daddy wasn’t going out like that, either.
Shaken, I fell to my knees beside him, touching his frail shoulder. His eyes flared open, and he looked more horrified by the sight of me than he did at the blood oozing out of him.
“Daddy.” I tugged his sodden sweatshirt sleeve. “We’ve got to get out of here.”
He clasped my wrist, his fingers cold, trembling. “You shouldn’t be here,” he rasped, his face drawn in the moonlight filtering in through his window.
“Well, I am. So, let’s go.”
“Amy, no.” He flopped back down when I tried to heft him up. His hand twitched over his wound, his face contorting. “I can’t move. You’re wasting time.”
“No!” I ignored the pool stretching on the floor between us. “You’re coming with me, or I’m not leaving! Do you hear me?”
“Scraaaaaa!”
I could’ve pissed myself when I peered around the mattress to see a living gargoyle lumber into Daddy’s room. I froze, scared to stone.
Holy mother ofshit!
Its details hit me at once. The leathery skin like ancient bones; the heaving ribs; the sinew, veins, and ears lancing from its fleecy head. The bat’s spine was curved and knobby, its wings folded, bony. Eyes like blood and fangs the length of railroad spikes protruded from its gothic muzzle. Talons splayed out from its four enormous paws, its limbs—disjointed and unnatural, almost arthritic—tensed to spring. Its breath polluted mine, notes of festering sewer and gingivitis coating my tongue.
Daddy caught the back of my shirt, tried to yank me down beside him. To shield me. But his negligible strength was no match for my obstinacy.
The bogeybat had come to finish him off. No way in hell was I letting that happen without a fight.
Against Daddy’s pleas that I hide, I strangled my sword hilt and rose. Then, I screamed bloody murder and flattened to the floor, the beast vaulting itself at my head, fangs glistening.
My assailant crashed through Daddy’s window and into the night. Glass shattered around me, something long and wooden smacking to the floor by my head.
Daddy’s walking stick. Why had he hidden it in the curtain panel—the one I’d tangled myself in?
Daddy spasmed around his wound. “Amy, take my staff and get out of here.”
“I’m not leaving you!”
His fingers marked my arm, blood seeping from his mouth.
He’ll be okay,I denied what my eyes saw.He’ll need immediate medical attention, but he’ll survive this.
“Take the staff to safety,” Daddy rattled, his eyelids drooping. “Please, Amy. They mustn’t find it. It’s—” He broke off, hacking. “It’s important.”
I shook my head. “It’s just a freaking cane!”
“No, it’s not. It’s ma—”
Click, click, click.The bat was coming back.
Daddy pushed me toward his cane. “Take it and go!”
I grabbed the cane and scurried toward the door, intending to lead the bat away from Daddy. It landed in a distorted hunch on the shard-dusted windowsill, glaring. Clearly, it resented my trickery.
“That’s what you get for killing my cat!” I dashed to the door.
