The Birch House

Chapter 21

Alex Birch. Back from the dead, again, a gorgeous blond avenging angel, breathing hard. Flushed with anger, blue eyes flashing. He glanced at us, making sure we were okay, and then put the blade of the hockey stick on the bikers throat. The biker's eyes fluttered and tried to open, but didn't make it. He relaxed into unconsciousness.

Alyssa flew toward Alex, leaped over the biker's body, and fastened herself around Alex like she was trying to be sure he was all there. He must have been; he winced from the force of the impact, then kissed her on the top of her head without looking away from the man lying limp at their feet.

"Alyssa", he said, and then glanced at her and gentled his tone. "Lyss, honey, go open the door."

She nodded, stepped away, and followed instructions. Alex handed her the hockey stick, grabbed the biker by the shoulders, and towed him quickly out into the hallway. He closed the door again, locked it, and said, "Right, here's the story, Lyss, you knocked him out with the hockey stick and-"

He didn't finish, because Alyssa grabbed him and pushed him back against the door, wrapping herself around him like a Goth-girl coat. She was crying again, but silently; I could see her shoulders shaking. Alex sighed, put his arms around her, and bent his blond head to rest against her dark one.

"It's okay," he murmured. "You're okay, Lyss. We're all okay."

"You were dead!" she wailed, muffled by the fact that her face was still pressed against his chest. "Damn you, Alex, you were dead, I saw them kill you, and... they..."

"Yeah, it wasn't too pleasant."

Something passed fast and hot across Alex's eyes, the reflection of a horror that I thought he didnt want to remember or share. "But I'm not a vampire, and they can't kill me like a vampire. Not while the house owns my soul. They can do pretty much anything to my body, but it just... gets fixed."

The prospects of that made me sick, like standing on the edge of a huge and unexpected drop. I stared at Alex, wide-eyed, and saw he understood the same things I did: that if Chase's father and his merry band of thugs found out, they might decide to test that out. Just for fun.

"Thats why I'm not here," Alex said. "You can't tell them. Or Chase."

"Not tell Chase?" Alyssa pulled back. "Why not?"

"I've been watching," he said. "Listening. I can do that when I'm, you know..."

"A ghost?" I supplied.

"Exactly. I saw..." Alex didn't go on, but I thought I knew what he'd been about to say.

"You saw Chase's dad hit him," I said. "Right?"

"I don't want to make him keep secrets from his dad. Not now."

Footsteps pounding up the stairs, then slowing when they hit the hallway. Alex touched his finger to his lips and eased out from Alyssa's frantic grip. He pressed his lips silently to hers.
"Hide!", I whispered. He nodded and opened the closet, rolled his eyes at the mess inside, and forced his way in. Burying himself in piles of clothes, I hoped. Isabelle had been trapped in that closet after trying to knife Alyssa, before the house had caught fire; she'd really done a job of messing things up. Alyssa was going to be furious.

Both of us jumped at a hard blow on the door. Alyssa hastily unlocked the door and stepped back as it flew open, and Chase charged through.