The Grave Shadows

51. Diversion

A colossal oak at the edge of the woods shuddered, red leaves falling as the bullets welted the middle of its trunk. The rifle shivered against Everett's cheek, ejecting the shell casings. He released the empty magazine and inserted another thirty-round one, feeling the heat radiating from the sleek barrel. Hector had a rifle like this, one that spat 900 rounds in a minute, and Everett got to try it once. He remembered the satisfaction of having his blood rushed, his hands clung to the annihilation, and his eyes attracted to danger like a promise. It wasn't about the shooting but being Hector. The bullets finally carved out a big hole, but there was nothing on the other side. Where are you?

Drenched in sweat, Everett strolled to the back of the cabin. The thought of Cyan in Bill Watts's grip pained his chest. Dried grass crunched under his boots as he slowed his pace before a small river. He skipped on the rocks to the spot deep enough to swim. David was already in the crystal flow, and Everett was tired of sharing this confinement with six people. For the past three days, the Watts boys obeyed their big brother who was once a joke. Now David had become Hector, and Hector was a wreck—this new arrangement was inescapable.

Everett settled the rifle on one gray rock, and a sketchbook in a pile of clothes drew his attention. He flipped through it and let out a harsh breath.

"You need to stop doing this!" Everett clenched his fist and lifted the volume over his head. "She's my girlfriend, and I don't want you to draw her pictures anymore."

David simpered and dove under the water. Everett preferred the old David, who was quiet, fragile, and clueless. That David was lovable at times. This new David was like Hector with a lousy attitude and ill manner. Everett blew out his cheeks and stripped. The cold water nibbled his skin, washing away the greasy sweat, yet he struggled to ease. David's transformation was spectacular, but what scared Everett was the connection between the painter and his creation.

After a long moment, David rose to the surface, cackling and raking his fingers through his hair. Taking every opportunity to avoid talking about his paintings, Van Gogh vowed to protect their only subject.

"I mean it, David!" The heat blossomed on Everett's face.

"Are you even old enough to know what love is?" David lifted his chin, gazing beyond Everett's shoulder. "I'm not the one you should be worried about, though."

Will, Simon, and Luke roamed to the river, prompting Everett's eyes to shut. The air was insufficient for the whole pack. When Everett got Cyan back, they would go away far from these brats.

"Ugh, this is grosser than I've imagined." Will looked up the dull sky. "Can't you boys at least wear boxers? I can see all of you from up here."

"Grandma could have cast the spell around Four Seasons or somewhere with plumbing," Luke moaned and pulled off his shirt. "I hate this."

Simon hunkered down and splashed water on his face. "Well, you can always go back home."

***

Another night embraced the cabin. After the Watts boys cleaned themselves in the river, they slouched around the crate table. Will rolled his shoulders and rubbed his back. Lying on the smelly mattress, Simon threw a bottle of aspirin at Will. Luke stared at David and Angelica as they were moving the same phone back and forth. John was already in bed since he had drunk all afternoon. Everett glanced at the window where pale moonlight glowed through the pane. The chilly winds animated the forest, and the creaky planks of the cabin barely kept away the cold winds. But somehow, the shelter was more accommodating than the Watts Mansion. Maybe the brothers had adapted to the real world. The only discomfort Everett couldn't conform to was being away from Cyan. Was he too late? Had she survived the torture as he had all these days? Would they meet again, or was she already gone? The answers were terrifying. The current reality was this Watts boy, Black Sheep, the soulless one—Everett Crowley Watts—couldn't do one damn thing without David's approval.

Simon tossed a piece of wood in a fireplace and crawled out of the mattress. He jerked his head in the direction of David for the other Watts boys to notice the ending of David and Angelica's secretive phone call. Angelica slipped to the back of the cabin while David rummaged through a backpack on the kitchen counter. Turning to his depressed, lethargic brothers, David folded a piece of paper in his shirt pocket and snatched five bottles of beer. His four-step trip to the crate table cued the Watts boys to straighten their spines. The last night in the woods might also be the last night they would ever share. Since their allegiance with the Watts Clan ended, the brother bond was profound than before. They had learned to live together, tearing one another and stitching up their own wounds. Hector should have been here. Despite the awry circumstance, he should have. Of course, if Hector were here, he would lead the brothers with clear a strategy and logic. Sadly, now the Watts boys were guided by their crazy brother who, three days ago, was a sensationally mad painter.

"Will," said David as he slid the paper from his pocket and a laptop between the beer bottles. "I need you to move everything from these accounts to here."

Will's eyes went round. "Where do they come from?"

Hiding various transactions and funds, David had prepared for this moment his entire life. The Watts boys could still be snobs living off their crazy brother.

"Who's Aric?" Simon asked after scanning the paper.

"Our landlord," David replied and mounted a chair. "Luke, can you hack?"

"What do you want?" Luke's eyes twinkled.

"We need distractions..." David gave a lopsided grin.

When false credit card trails and flight records were in place, David reminded Simon and Will that he would suck out their powers tomorrow. Ultimately, he never wanted the brothers to go head to head with hunters; Simon's and Will's hidden powers were merely the boosts to him.

"You should go to sleep, Ev—" David thread a hand through Everett's hair.

"Stop that!" Everett slapped David's fingers and ducked away. "I know what you've been doing to us."

"Yes, David, it's creepy as hell!" Will bobbed his head to agree.

Will, Simon, Everett, and Luke had graduallyrealized that their big brother could interfere with their minds when hetouched them. David could calm people and relax them. With David's strangegift, the boys could sleep amidst the turmoil. When David touched Everett'shead, he took away some ache and numbed some despair. But the comfort was amere distraction, a diversion from a road covered with sharp blades ahead ofthem. Sooner or later, the Watts boys had to face their father.