Just A Kiss | BOOK 2 The Night Lords Series

1. The First Knock

Isabelle

11 days into the invasion...

"That dog is walking funny."

Don't look. I knew better than to look when my brother was by the window. But my 14 year old self hears the word 'dog' and it's like an instinct for me to check if it's a breed I'd like. Even though it was against my better judgement, I got up from the floor, abandoning the puzzle I'd been working on, and scooch in next to Oliver on the couch who moves aside so I can peer through the curtains.

There was indeed a dog outside. Its coat was dark and slick, possibly an American terrier, with one white paw and a red collar around its neck. With its tail-side facing us, sniffing at a clothed lump on the sidewalk (which I tried my best not to stare at), the lone canine shook its head and looked up.

The blood drains from my face.

Oliver swore under his breath and yanked the curtains closed before scrambling off the couch just as I could hear our Dad walking into the living room.

"Isabelle! Away from the window!" I turn slowly and look to Oliver who was shaking his head already.

"Dad," Oliver points. "The dog outside... it didn't have a face. The snout was gone and its eyes⏤"

"Enough, Oliver. You know there are bad things outside. That's why I have the rule 'stay away from the windows' in place." Striding past my twin brother, Dad takes my hand and pulls me to my feet. "Both of you come to the kitchen for a minute."

We follow him to the kitchen where we find Mom sitting at the table, a mug full of water cupped between her hands. She smiles at us but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. Once we're all seated, she frees one hand to hold onto one of Dad's. It's then that I notice her hands were shaking.

After a beat of silence, Dad sighs. "The news channels are all down. Radio, phones, computers, all of them seem to be having trouble finding any sort of signal. Which means, we've lost contact with your grandpa and everyone else."

"What about cellular data?" Oliver leans forward in his seat across from Dad. "I just spoke with my friend Mike from school on the phone yesterday and he said him and those in his neighborhood are forming a militia! Maybe we can join them? It might just be our house or something⏤"

"Oliver."

"I saw the videos online! People are saying that things came out of the earth from a big crater that opened up in New York! Things that look like us but don't and they were tearing people apart."

"Oliver."

"If those things make it here, I don't think we can survive on our own, Dad! We need to band with⏤"

"OLIVER!"

Oliver shuts his mouth, eyes wide. He was panicking, unable to grasp⏤ or maybe unwilling to accept⏤ what has become our new reality. The first day was an alarming surprise, you could say. It had been all over the tv and internet; an explosion in New York, Oregon, Texas, and a few more across the globe⏤ one for each continent at least⏤ followed by what became an onslaught of blood and terror by something unknown. By the third day, the endless reports of homicides and our government telling us to stay inside over and over got so sickening we unplugged the tv altogether. No matter. Day six, nobody was posting anything new. It's like the whole world was sitting still, holding their breath as they waited. For what? My gut tells me it's something terrible.

The muscles in Dad's jaw were clenched. He breathes, calming himself down before speaking to his son.

"No one can help us." He says, voice calm yet tinged with a bit of sadness.

"But⏤"

"No one," Dad cuts my brother off with a look. "Except maybe... your grandpa."

We both look to him, confused. Grandpa Quinn was a mere shadow to us. Someone that existed only because we heard our parents mention him from time to time but we've never really gotten to know him. Last time he came around was for my fifth or sixth birthday before he disappeared.

"Where does Grandpa live?" I ask.

Mom is the one to answer. "Somewhere safe, Isabelle. Somewhere... where you two don't have to be afraid." Again, her smile doesn't reach her eyes and I frown. What's with the vague answer? Did he live in the middle of a jungle or something? As if reading my mind, Oliver speaks up.

"Does he live in the tundra?"

Neither of our parents answer. Instead, Dad proceeds with his point. "So, you're right, Oliver. Alone, we may not survive but, if we go to meet with your grandpa, we might just stand a chance. Now, given the situation, we can't go until we can get in touch again which may take some time."

"You just said all communication were down." Oliver says, sounding confused.

Dad closes his eyes. "I know. I'm sure Grandpa Quinn will figure out a way to reach us and when he does we'll need to get on the move. By this, I mean⏤"

"You want us to travel with those things outside?!"

"Oliver, please," Dad looks to Mom. "Your mother and I promise to keep you safe⏤"

Ting-ta-ting.

Just then, a ball of fur leaps into my lap, the bell on her collar jingling slightly as she settles. I smile at my cat, Milly, and go to stroke her head when I notice her hair was standing up and she was staring intently at the back door. I follow her gaze and nearly throw Milly into the air if not for her claws digging into my legs.

There was a man standing there. An inhumanly wide grin splitting his face in two, or, perhaps I was exaggerating given the blood smeared from cheek to cheek was giving that impression. My eyes were like saucers, brimmed with tears as he lifts one pale hand to wave at me. Then, his eyes grow wide and his smile warps into an 'o', mimicking my look of fear. It's then that my brother sees what I'm looking at and he jumps from his seat, knocking it to the ground and causing my parents to leap up as well. My mom's cup slips from her hands to shatter on the ground and the man at the door looks at the ceramic pieces for a second before that gruesome grin returns and he knocks on the door.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

One hard rap after another, slow and deliberate. He points at his face. A pleasant voice, muffled by the door, but pleasant all the same, nips at our ears. "Hey, there. Sorry if I scared you. I just got done cutting up some food and a bit of it got on my face. Mind letting me in so I can clean up?"

None of us move and his smile somehow turns into something more charming, that voice more appealing. "I'm skilled in hunting. Food is low these days so I shot myself a deer. Plenty to go around." He explains, laughing a little as he shrugs. "If you let me in, I'd be happy to share. So," He tilts his head. "Can I come in?"

"Ivy. Take the kids to our room and lock the door." Dad orders, voice low.

Mom takes our hands. "Richard..."

"Go." Dad's tone leaves no room for argument.

With one last terrified look at the smiling man, Mom pulls my brother and I away and out of sight. But not before I manage to look back to see my Dad grabbing that doorknob and opening the door.