Chapter Four

It was no surprise that Aunt Cassidy was already sitting in her living room by the time Brandon found a parking spot in an inconspicuous location a few blocks away from Jo’s apartment building. Cassidy had no doubt parked in Jo’s parking spot in the garage at the rear of the building whereas the three of them were forced to traipse through the streets a good distance. They’d been hampered by the fact that they had to walk like regular people, rather than the superbeings they were. Although, if anyone peeking through the windows wanted to look carefully enough, they might notice there was something different about their weapons. Not that everyone wasn’t armed these days. Humans tried to protect themselves from Vampires, since it was okay to kill them if they attacked. Vampires didn’t need guns but they often carried them anyway. And then there were people like Jo and her family who would be taken in without question the second law enforcement of the Vampire brigade caught up to them. If they could take them. Which meant the weapons they carried had to be of a higher caliber, more deadly, and able to kill anything they might encounter--alive or undead.

Cadon crossed into the living room as Jo removed her belt and tossed it on the table by the door. She still had a smaller Glock strapped to her calf, just in case, but she didn’t carry her weapons around her apartment most of the time, save the smaller handgun she’d use in emergencies, not that she’d had one yet.

It was a shithole, but it worked. At one time, this part of Denver had been pretty nice, but after most of the people headed east, thinking the government could somehow protect them better if they weren’t out in the wild west, or something of that nature, things had gone downhill. Then, the raids had really picked up, and now, what had once been a bustling city was full of crackheads, Vampires, and little else. There were still enough people out here that Jo could blend in at the grocery store, when she made herself go there, but for the most part, no one who could leave was still out in this no man’s land that stretched from the middle of Kansas to the California border, the length of the country and even slightly into Canada and Mexico, which had their own problems.

“Make yourself at home,” Jo chided, eyeing her aunt’s boots propped up on the coffee table. Her brother plopped down next to Cassidy, chewing on a Hot Pocket. Jo just shook her head at him. Whatever it was this crew wanted, they better make it known shortly and be on their way. At least they hadn’t brought Scott with them.

“I see you’re still up to your old ways,” Elliott said, walking over to the old brown recliner Jo had salvaged out of a dumpster a few weeks ago but not sitting in it. She couldn’t blame him. Brandon was also still standing, though he’d moved to a position behind his wife, his arms folded as his expression indicated he wasn’t any happier with Jo than the others.

“Someone has to be,” she muttered, deciding she may as well be comfortable, too. She took off her black leather jacket, tossed it onto a coat rack near the door, and then settled into a chair across from where Elliott was standing. This one was also a salvaged piece, but it was in better shape--and didn’t smell like cat piss.

“Listen, Jo, something important’s happened, and we need to tell you about it. We need you to actually pretend like you give a shit about this family for a few minutes, okay?” Cadon said.

Jo eyed her brother, wondering how a person could down a Hot Pocket in three bites. He didn’t even appear to have food in his mouth while he was talking. Her first thought was he took after Uncle Elliott’s side of the family, but then she remembered they weren’t related by blood. She shook her head. “Whose gotten themselves locked up now?”

“That’s not why we’re here,” Cassidy said, her tone somehow rolling its eyes. “We all know you don’t care about that.”

“Right? When was the last time you went to see Roar?” Cadon probed.

“Hey, one guilt trip at a time, jackass!” Jo kicked the coffee table forward and sent it careening into the cat piss chair. Both pieces of furniture moved backward far enough to butt up against Elliott. He looked at the chair, at Jo, and then cleared his voice.

“Jo, if you don’t want in on what we’re about to tell you, fine, but please stop acting like a five-year-old. You’re too good for that.”

She narrowed her eyes, swearing that if he dared mention her “mother would be disappointed” or some other bullshit, she’d put that Blue Moon Portal theory to the test. “What. Is. It?”

They all exchanged glances as if they were trying to determine who would tell her. Finally, it was Cadon who opened his mouth next. His voice was steady and strong as he spoke. “We know for sure what started the Revelation now. It was her. She’s definitely back.”

Jo swallowed hard, not sure she could believe her ears. If what he was saying was true…. She shook her head. “How do you know? Is this another one of Henry’s stupid ass theories?”

“No,” Elliott assured her. “Not Christian Henry’s. And not a theory. She’s been spotted. Positively identified. For certain.”

“By who?” She still couldn’t believe it. It couldn’t possibly be true. “Someone who has seen her with their own eyes?”

“Yeah.” Cass seemed more than certain.

She flitted through who was left, who had actually seen the bitch before. Most of the ones that were still around were in this room. The rest were either dead, locked up, working for the enemy… or missing. Of course, like herself, Cadon hadn’t ever had the pleasure of meeting the psycho--yet. Shaking her head and unable to come up with an answer, Jo asked, “Who? One of you?”

“No,” Elliott said again. Jo stared at him, waiting, begging him with her large eyes, the ones he said were hauntingly familiar, to just freaking tell her already. Elliott swallowed. “Jo, we’re sure it’s her. No one could positively identify her better than the person who saw her. Because… it was… your dad.”