Queen Of Blood

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Marcy was in the bathroom with her sister. Ellen was perched on the toilet, with her jeans down around her ankles. Marcy knelt in front of her and coaxed her sister with words she almost certainly didn’t understand. Hygiene was a big problem for Ellen. It had been hard to get her to understand that she couldn’t just squat and shit on the floor any time she felt the urge to go. Nor had it been easy to instruct her on proper use of the toilet. You had to watch for signs indicating she was on the verge of needing to take a dump. She would get restless and start pacing about their room, panting and whimpering like a dog in need of going outside. In fact, the process had been very similar to potty-training an animal.

Ellen whimpered again. “Muhmuh…muh—”

Marcy sighed. “Come on Ellen. Squeeze. You can do it.”

“Muh…muh—”Tears of frustration welled in Ellen’s eyes. “Muh—”

“Oh, the hell with it.”

“Oh, the hell with it.”

Marcy stood and extended a hand to her sister, who accepted it with dumb gratitude, a drool-flecked smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Ellen stood, and Marcy helped her get her jeans tugged back up and snapped shut. They had just reentered the bedroom when Marcy heard the faint sound of something she needed a moment to recognize as heavy metal music.

She frowned.

It was the first time she’d heard recorded music of any sort since arriving at this place. Though the music was muffled, she had a sense that it was coming from somewhere outside the house. She was moving toward the bedroom door to investigate when the boom of the first explosion sent a hot spike of fear through her heart, freezing her hand on the doorknob. The sound was massive and the concussion seemed to rattle the whole house. It was followed immediately by more explosions, just as big and loud, which was followed by the stuttering sound of gunfire. Ellen screamed and threw herself against Marcy, jarring her hand away from the doorknob. Her hands clawed and scrabbled against Marcy’s clothes as she mewled inarticulately. Marcy shoved her away, sent her tumbling to the floor. Ellen landed on her ass and let out a pained squeal. The sound ripped at Marcy’s heart, but the panic engulfing her was too immense to allow any room for coddling her simpleton sister. She had to figure out something to do, and fast, before whatever was happening downstairs got any closer.

Then she had it. The only answer possible.

Dream. We’ve got to get to Dream.

“Upstairs.” She looked at Ellen. “Get your ass up. We’re going upstairs. NOW.”

She hurried over to the nightstand beside the bed, yanked the drawer open, and pulled out her Glock. She checked the magazine. Full. She popped it ba ck in and turned around in time to see her sister moving toward the door. Ellen’s hands fumbled with the doorknob for a moment before seizing it. A burst of adrenaline sent Marcy dashing back across the room.

The door came open and the sound of gunfire grew abruptly louder. Screams and confused shouts echoed down the hallway.

Ellen stepped into the chaos and Marcy followed.