Carpathian 09 - Dark Guardian

one finger she slowly pushed open his door.
    The horror of that sight would be imprinted on her brain for all time. The walls were sprayed with blood, the covers soaked with it. Mathew lay sprawled sideways on the bed, his head hanging off the mattress at a right angle. His eye sockets were empty, his once laughing eyes gone forever. She couldn't count the stab wounds on his body. Jaxon did not go into the room. She couldn't. Something far more powerful than her will was stopping her. For a moment she couldn't stand, sliding unexpectedly to the floor in a huddled heap, a silent scream tearing through her body in absolute denial.
    She hadn't been there to defend him. To save him. It was her responsibility. She was the strong one, yet she had failed, and Mathew, with his shining curls and his love of life, had paid the ultimate price. Jaxon didn't want to move, didn't think she could. But then her mind seemed to go mercifully blank, and she was able to drag herself back up the wall and proceed down the hall to her mother's bedroom. She already knew what she would find. She told herself she was prepared.
    This time the door was wide open. Jaxon forced herself to look in. Rebecca lay crumpled on the floor.
    She knew it was her mother by the mop of blond hair that spilled out like a halo around the crushed head. The rest of her was too mangled and bloody for recognition. Jaxon couldn't pull her gaze away.
    Her throat was closing, strangling her. She couldn't breathe.
    She heard a sound. The hint of a sound really, but it was enough to trigger her years of training. She leaped to one side, whirling to face her stepfather. His hands and arms were wet with blood, his shirt splattered and stained. He was smiling, his face serene, his eyes warm with welcome.
    "They're gone now, honey. We won't ever have to listen to their whining again." Tyler held out a hand to her, clearly expecting her to take it.
    Jaxon backed a cautious step down the hall. She didn't want to alarm Tyler. He didn't seem to notice he had blood all over him. "I'm supposed to be in school, Uncle Tyler." Her voice didn't sound natural even to her own ears.
    A sudden scowl crossed his face. "You haven't called me Uncle Tyler since you were eight years old.
    What happened to Daddy? Your mother turned you against me, didn't she?" He was moving toward her.
    Jaxon stayed very quiet, very still, a look of innocence on her face. "No one could ever turn me against Generated by ABC Amber LIT Conv erter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html
    you. That would be impossible. And you know Mom doesn't want to have anything to do with me."
    Tyler relaxed visibly. He was close enough to touch her. Jaxon couldn't allow that; her tremendous self-discipline would not extend far enough to let him touch her with the blood of her family on his hands.
    She struck without warning, jabbing a fist straight into his throat, kicking his kneecap hard. The moment she connected, Jaxon turned and ran. She didn't look back once. She didn't dare. Tyler was trained to respond despite being injured. In any case, she was very small compared to her stepfather. Her blows might stun him but would never incapacitate him completely. With luck her kick might have broken his knee, but she doubted it. Jaxon ran through the house and straight out the door. Rebecca had always liked the protection of living on the naval base, and Jaxon was grateful now. She screamed at the top of her lungs, running straight across the street to Russell Andrews's house.
    Russell's wife, Bernice, rushed out to meet her, distress on her face. "What is it, dear? Are you hurt?"
    Russell joined them, circling Jaxon's slender shoulders with one arm. "Is your mother ill?" He knew better; he knew Jaxon. She was always a child in complete control, calm under fire, always thinking. If Rebecca were ill, Jaxon would have called for medical aid. Right now her face was so pale, she looked like a ghost. There was horror in her eyes, terror in her expression. Russell glanced across the street at the silent house with its door wide open. The wind was blowing, the air crisp and cold. For some unknown reason, the house gave him the creeps.
    Russell started across the street. Jaxon caught his arm. "No, Uncle Russell, not by yourself. You can't save them. They're already dead. Call the MPs." .
    "Who's dead, Jaxon?" Russell asked quietly, knowing Jaxon wouldn't lie.
    "Mathew and my mother. Tyler killed them. He told Mom he killed my father, too.