Goddess Girl Prophecy Page 7

  I rolled my eyes. “It’s not like that MawMaw.”

  She giggled, then said, “He liiikes you.” She drew out the phrase for my benefit.

  I dropped a potato in the pot to purposely splash the water.

  “Hey!” She mopped her arm with her apron, then reached for my arm to dry it, too.

  She stopped cold, her smile replaced with shock. She gasped. “Your arm.”

  As I tried to figure out what to say to her about my miraculously healed wound, Kanaan knocked on the screen door. I slipped my arm out of MawMaw’s grasp and went to let him in. He wasn’t bruised; that was good. I looked into his eyes for a clue as to what had happened. His wink reassured me while he handed me my pack.

  “MawMaw.” He leaned down to give her a peck on the cheek.

  MawMaw, frozen in place, stared intently at me, especially at my arm.

  “How are you this afternoon,” Kanaan continued speaking to MawMaw. He took my seat, then picked up the peeler and a potato from the pile.

  I set my pack on a chair to inspect it. It was all in there, even my math homework, which I took out to work on.

  “I’m rather perplexed at the moment.” MawMaw looked at me curiously.

  I ignored her, leafing pages in my math notebook to get to the correct spot.

  “Haven’t you ever seen a man peel a potato before?” Kanaan asked.

  MawMaw gently took my arm and twisted it to where the scrape should have been. “I’ve never seen an injury heal so quickly,” she whispered, as she felt the spot on my arm.

  Boom! The back screen door burst open.

  Startled, MawMaw and I screamed at the same time. She stood, pulling me behind her.

  “Nobody moves!” ordered a gunman.

  Two more men with the same semiautomatic rifles and wearing identical black ski masks followed behind him. Simultaneously, more men with guns kicked in the front door. They swarmed throughout the house.

  Kanaan jumped up and poked out the peeler as a weapon.

  “Really, kid,” said one of the men. He put the barrel of his gun directly on Kanaan’s chest.

  “Kanaan!” I moved toward him.

  One of the other men in black grabbed me from behind and put me in a choke hold. “Don’t even think about it,” said the man holding the gun on Kanaan. “You either, lady.” He raised his chin at MawMaw.

  She had picked up her peeler too. And, oh was she mad. Not scared, oh no. Her tourmaline eyes glinted, and her body shook with what I recognized as barely contained rage.

  The man choking me tightened his arm around my neck. I gagged. The one with the barrel pressed to Kanaan’s chest backed up to the edge of the kitchen, but kept aim at Kanaan.

  “You didn’t get to be your age by being stupid.” He laughed at MawMaw. “Put it down.”

  She hesitated a beat but threw the peeler onto the table. Kanaan did the same.

  “Where is it?” the gunman demanded.

  “You’ll have to be more specific,” MawMaw spit out.

  That’s when he stepped forward, and with a snarl, hit her on the cheek with the butt of his gun.

  “MawMaw!” I watched her crumble to the floor.

  The lessons of a self-defense class Dad made me take in NYC kicked in. I stomped hard on the foot of the man choking me. He eased his grip enough for me to follow up with two sharp elbows to his ribs. When he doubled over, I brought a knee up into his face.

  I turned around to get to MawMaw. Hand on her cheek and a grimace of pain on her face, she was frozen in place.

  What? But my ears hadn’t popped.

  Didn’t matter. Everyone was frozen.

  I raised my hands in front of my face. Except for me. For the first time ever, I wasn’t frozen at all. I spun around.

  The man in black whose foot I stomped on had dropped his gun and was about to do a face-plant onto the top of the table. But the man who had his weapon pointed at Kanaan drew my attention—or rather the flash of light on his weapon did.

  He had fired it! But there were no bullets. They hadn’t left the barrel.

  I hurried to him, and cringing at the creepiness of his frozen eyes framed by the holes in the ski mask, pushed the barrel of the gun up so when time unfroze, the bullets would shoot into the ceiling.

  That airplane-like sound buzzed low in my ear. Time was almost up.

  Moving as fast as I could, I went back to the kitchen table and kicked the dropped gun closer to Kanaan. Then, before throwing myself to the floor, I arranged one of the peelers—serrated edge up—right where the man who had been choking me would hit it.

  Take that, you bully!

  I lowered myself to the floor, slipped my hand into MawMaw’s, and ducked to shield her.

  The buzz roared through my head, but the shots fired into the ceiling were louder. I screamed, despite expecting the noise. The earsplitting sound of bullets firing, the clang of spent casings on the tile floor, and the nausea-inducing scent of firearm propellant—flashbacks to my parents’ murders hit me full force.

  That time, in New York, I didn’t scream. There, in MawMaw’s kitchen, I couldn’t stop screaming. MawMaw gripped my hand and gently shushed me. I clamped my mouth shut and opened my eyes. That wasn’t a good time to fall apart. Kanaan had grabbed the gun I’d kicked his way and had put it to his shoulder.

  “Drop it, kid.” The man once again had his gun pointed at Kanaan.

  “You first.” Kanaan aimed right back at him.

  His evil smile stretched the ski mask he wore. He pivoted his gun from Kanaan to me and MawMaw. “The next shot is theirs.”

  Holding the gun steady, Kanaan put himself between the man and us. “And the one after that is yours.”

  “Don’t be a hero, son.”

  The man who had been choking me a moment ago spit blood from his mouth. The potato peeler made punctures in the ski mask. Blood oozed into the fabric around those punctures.

  “Check the backpack,” the one who seemed like the leader said. His aim never wavered from us.

  The bloody one complied, pulling everything out, tossing it all over his shoulder. As he turned the pack inside out, he shook his head at the leader. That one tilted his head to indicate the bank of kitchen cabinets. On that command, the guy dropped my pack. With big swoops of his hands, he pulled the contents onto the floor. Then he yanked and dumped every single drawer. I heard more of the same going on upstairs.

  When the men came up empty, the leader nodded to the door. “Check the barn and the truck.”

  All but the two in the kitchen ran out through the broken screen door. We heard Ella whinny. Then we heard gunshots and hooves galloping away.

  “No,” I whispered.

  “She’s running away. That means she’s okay.” Kanaan kept the gun pointed at the other guy in a standoff.

  Hot anger stung my eyes. I stared intently at the man who hit my grandmother, committing the pattern of his irises to memory.

  “What the hell is wrong with your eyes?” He hissed.

  I lowered my head but kept staring. I memorized the man’s shoes. My glance moved up to his hands and arms. He wore an expensive gold watch and had a tattoo on his forearm. I’d seen that tattoo before. I cocked my head slightly to get a better look at it. Oh, hell. I clamped a hand over my mouth.

  My eyes shot up to his face. At the back collar, a tiny bit of his hair peeked out from beneath the ski mask. It was dirty blond—just like one of the men who killed my parents. Was it the same man? Or was it just the tattoo that was the same? Maybe they all had that tattoo.

  A neighbor must have called the police because sirens were coming our way. The men looked at each other. With a nod from tattooed guy, they both ran toward the back door.

  Kanaan made a move to follow.

  The leader guy stabbed his gun right into Kanaan’s chest again. “I told you, boy, don’t be a hero.”

  “Don’t, Kanaan,” I said.

  Keeping his gun pointed at us, the man backed out of the door
last. There was a van in the driveway with the side door open. As soon as the guys from the kitchen got inside, it sped away, even before the door slid completely shut.

  Kanaan propped the gun in the corner and ran outside. He used his phone to take pictures of the departing van.

  “Oh, MawMaw.” I hugged her to me. She was no longer conscious. The spot on her cheek was already swelling and turning colors, but it didn’t bleed. Thank goodness it didn’t bleed.

  A police cruiser pulled into the backyard. Kanaan pointed in the direction that the van went, and the cruiser sped away. Then, lights flashing, an ambulance arrived. The paramedics rushed into the house. I pushed myself up with shaky arms. On trembling legs, I moved out of the way.

  “Are you injured?” a female EMT asked me.

  I shook my head. Stepping over the mess on the floor, I leaned back against the sink. I wrapped my arms around myself, doing my best to stop shaking.

  When Kanaan came back inside, Police Chief Danny was with him. The first thing Chief Danny did was put me in a big bear hug. Redheaded, freckled-faced Danny had went to high school with my parents and remained a family friend. “What the hell happened?” He looked around at the mess.

  We, well, mostly Kanaan, filled him in and answered all the routine questions.

  Did we know who they were?

  No.

  How many were there?

  Six to seven. They were all over the house and we didn’t see all of them.

  How tall were they?

  They ranged from five-five to over six feet.

  When he got to the question of what the gunmen may have wanted, Kanaan answered first while looking directly at me. “I have no idea.”

  “I don’t either,” I lied right along with him.

  Chief Danny put his little memo pad in his pocket. “I’m gonna check out the rest of the scene.”

  We nodded and Chief Danny went upstairs. Kanaan stood right next to me. “It’s going to be okay.” He tried to console me.

  It wasn’t. I knew it. That tattoo told me that.

  Kanaan put his arm around my shoulder. I took the support and leaned into him while the EMTs tended to MawMaw. How the tattoo was linked to the skull was a mystery, but they were linked. I was certain. I was also glad we left the skull in the globe.

  “Amaya!” I said out loud. I moved away from Kanaan. Sifting through the debris on the floor, I found my phone. It seemed okay. Relieved to get a dial tone when I tapped, I went outside to call Amaya.

  “Where are you? Are you okay?” I shouted as soon as she picked up.

  “Yeah,” she said calmly. “Me and the brat are at dinner in Old Colorado City with my aunt.”

  “Who’s at home?” I demanded.

  “No one. Kai is in Denver with my parents,” she answered.

  Thank goodness. I fell to my knees right there in the yard. “Promise me you won’t go home, Amaya. Stay with your aunt, okay?”

  “Why?”

  The EMTs brought MawMaw out of the house on a gurney.

  “Miss,” the woman said to me. “We’re taking her to Memorial.”

  Amaya gasped. “What’s going on? Who’s going to the hospital?”

  “MawMaw,” I answered softly, my voice shaking. “We had visitors—with guns.”

  “What?!” she shouted through the phone.

  “They hit MawMaw.” That’s when the tears started. Not gushing or sobbing. They just overflowed from my eyes and rolled silently down my cheeks.

  Kanaan knelt to my level and held my free hand.

  I closed my eyes and worked on getting my composure back, swallowing against the stupid lump in my throat, and trying to make my oxygen-deprived lungs work.

  I sucked in a breath, which turned into a giant, obnoxious sob.

  “Wray!” MawMaw tried to sit up on the gurney. “Wray!”

  I took the phone away from my mouth. “I’m here, MawMaw.”

  “Go,” Amaya said, “but call me as soon as you can.”

  “I will.” I hung up and went to MawMaw.

  MawMaw gripped my hand. “You come with me.” The knot on her cheek pushed at her lower eyelid.

  I looked at the paramedic. “Am I allowed to go with her?” She shrugged and looked at the other EMT, who also shrugged but waved me in. I started to get into the back of the ambulance, when I saw the open barn door and remembered. “Ella,” I said out loud.

  “You go with MawMaw,” Kanaan ordered. “I’ll find Ella and bring her home.”

  Chief Danny nodded. “You take care of your grandma. We’ll take care of things here.”

  With that, the EMT closed the door on the ambulance. A few seconds later the sirens came on and we started moving. I looked at MawMaw. An oxygen mask covered her nose and mouth, but her eyes were open and watching me. “I’m sorry, MawMaw.” I suppressed another giant sob.

  She squeezed my hand even harder. She blinked and tried to smile. I tried to smile back, and in my mind, tried to connect the dots between the skull, my parents, and armed men in black with distinctive tattoos hitting MawMaw and shooting at Kanaan.

  When we got to the hospital, they wheeled MawMaw into a little room with curtains and ordered me to stay out. Voices behind the curtain discussed MawMaw’s condition. A doctor barked orders and paper packages ripped open.

  The curtain fluttered. The gurney was being pushed out. “I can’t believe someone would hit an old woman,” the female EMT said. She pressed her lips together when she saw me. “I’m sure she’ll be okay,” she added softly.

  I nodded and said thank you.

  “It’s best if you go to the waiting room.” She pushed the gurney through a pair of double doors held open by her partner. He waited patiently for me to follow them. When I did, he dropped the doors. They closed with a thunk.

  Other than Uncle Jun, MawMaw was the only family I had left. The idea of losing her, too, scared me more than that damn skull did. I looked warily into the waiting room. There were a few adults and some sniffling, coughing children. The last time I was in a hospital was the night my parents died. Those smells and sounds, along with the images, put themselves front and center in my mind.

  Shouting by the EMTs. The massive amounts of blood all over the apartment. Watching them load Mom into one ambulance and Dad into another. Neither ambulance hurried off or used lights and sirens. They didn’t need to. The police officer driving me to the hospital while a dispatcher’s voice on his radio promised to get in touch with MawMaw in Colorado.

  Apparently, every second of the shooting aftermath had etched itself into my memory, and my brain chose that moment to play it back to me in brilliant color. Then, I remembered the man and his tattoo. My mind raced with the implication that my parents’ killers weren’t random thieves, but somehow tied to the skull. But it couldn’t have been the skull they were after. I just found it a day before.

  I curled up on a seat in a far corner of the waiting room with my memories, confusion, and cold fear. My phone chimed, which got a nasty look from a lady a few rows over. I put the phone on vibrate, and then read the text from Kanaan. He found Ella. She was fine and back in the barn safe and sound.

  Thanks, I texted back.

  Then, I texted Uncle Jun.

  I don’t know when I fell asleep. When I woke, it was dark outside and Uncle Jun sat next to me. A doctor, in a chair across from him, was speaking in a hushed tone. They were keeping MawMaw overnight for observations.

  “The CAT scan came back fine. However, we’re always concerned when someone her age suffers any kind of contusion to the head,” he said with authority. His tone sounded so much like the New York doctor who told me that both my parents were dead and that a nice social services lady would take care of me until MawMaw arrived. The memory flooded me with visuals.

  I squeezed my eyes shut attempting to block the visions. The current doctor tried to reassure me. “It is just a precaution, that’s all.”

  I opened my watery eyes and nodded at him. “I underst
and.”

  “Do you have any other questions?” The doctor looked at both of us.

  “Not at the moment,” Uncle Jun answered.

  I shook my head.

  The doctor stood. “If any come up, feel free to call me.” He fished a card out of his doctor jacket.

  “Wait, Doctor.” I stood as he began to walk away. “Can I see her before we leave?”

  He shrugged. “Sure. She’s sedated, but I see no reason you can’t say goodnight.”

  The guard gave us visitor badges and we followed the doctor to MawMaw resting in the curtained cube. She was hooked up to a multitude of monitors and several bags of fluid dripped into her IV. The bruise on her cheek already had a light-blue tint mixed with the angry red. No doubt it would turn to ugly black and purple in the next few days.

  Still on oxygen and eyes closed, I took her hand slowly so as not to startle her. She opened her eyes into slight slits and blinked a few times. She tried to smile when she recognized us. Those wonderful lacy creases came to her eyes.

  “The doctor said they want to keep you overnight,” I said softly.

  She nodded.

  My fear must have shown, because she raised the oxygen mask to whisper ever so slightly. “I’ll be fine,” she whispered. She motioned for Uncle Jun to come closer. He stepped to the other side of the bed and leaned down to hear her. “Don’t leave Wray alone.” I think she had intended to whisper, but I heard it clearly. Uncle Jun nodded. “Not ever,” MawMaw’s would-be whisper was urgent. “I understand, MawMaw,” he said.

  They shared a look that adults have when keeping something from a child.

  A couple of nurses came in and Uncle Jun stepped back.

  “We’re going to get her ready to go upstairs,” one of the nurses said. He began to unhook the beeping monitors.

  The other nurse moved the curtains aside and smiled at me. “Are you a caregiver?”

  “Her granddaughter.” Her eyebrows hiked. We got that a lot from strangers. “Adoptive,” I added to explain our physical differences.

  “Chosen,” the other nurse said with a wink at MawMaw. That got a big nod and smile from MawMaw.

  After she was unhooked, he wheeled the bed down the hall to wait for the elevator.