A/N: Thought I forgot about this story, eh? Think again! I've been hen-pecking at this thing for a while, and finally thought it was about time I got around to finishing it. Just one chapter and an epilogue to go. Hopefully it won't take me another seven years.

Cheers!

Willowfly

Chapter 11: Enemies

"It's really coming down out there," the nurse said as she fiddled with Selina's IV. Davis was too busy pacing the length of the floor to notice. "I heard they called a state of emergency."

He'd been pacing Selina's hospital room ever since they admitted her. Hours. It had been hours of tests and scans and the doctors still found nothing. Her bloodwork was normal. The CT was normal. Everything was normal. No one knew why his wife couldn't see.

Davis just wanted answers. He wanted something else to blame other than those God damn...

"Howie…"

Selina had opened her eyes, glassy and unseeing. Her bandaged hand pawed at the air, reaching for him. Davis felt a new fury rising in his gut, but kept his expression stoic, taking his wife's hand and gently pressing it to his lips. She was trembling. "It'll be okay."

"No, Baby, I have this bad feeling…"

"They'll find out what's wrong, Lina. Doctor said they haven't run out of tests."

She rocked her head against the pillow. "No. I mean I feel something in my gut. I'm worried about Sadie."

"I know." Davis thought hard, listening to the snow beat against the hospital windows. The cold wind howled in a sea of white. "Soon as you're okay, we'll get the hell out of this city. Move upstate. Leave this whole mess behind."

"Howard, you-"

She was interrupted by Davis's ringing cell phone. Davis cursed after he fished it out of his pocket, reading the caller ID.

"It's Lenny."

The snow pelted sideways into the side of the little red Volvo, clawing the windshield like icy fingernails. Davis couldn't see a damn thing. The world was only shadows lurking behind a hazy field of white, but he kept his foot on the gas, tightening his death grip on the steering wheel as the car threatened to spin out again.

Up ahead, he could see the crime scene unfolding; see the flashing red and blue. The bright spotlights shown against the front of his brickstone.

Davis skid the car into a parking spot and climbed out, running breathlessly toward the gathering of people huddled from the icy wind behind the open ambulance. Someone saw him, called his name and tried to take him by the arm. Lead him off somewhere to talk. But Davis ripped his arm away, led by fury toward the light pouring from the ambulance and the figure of the blanketed man beneath it.

Lenny caught sight of him. His eyes were dark and wild. "Oh god. Howard, I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'm sorry. Those things. Those things did it. I didn't mean to. I didn't mean to!"

The man continued to sob and babble as Howard grabbed him by the collar, pulling him just inches from his face.

"Where the fuck is my daughter, Lenny!?" He roared. "Where's Sadie!?"

Strong hands managed to pry them apart, but Lenny's eyes didn't lose their terror. It was the first time Davis noticed his face was spattered with blood.

"I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to! It was those things! It was those things!"

Lenny kept howling as they put him in handcuffs and pushed him into the ambulance. Davis could only watch, numb with fury, as it disappeared into the storm.

"C'mon," a voice beside him said. A gentle hand on his shoulder. "Let's go inside and talk."

But he refused to move. Snowflakes fell and melted on his face, though he wasn't trembling from the cold. "I want to know where my daughter is."

"We have search parties out looking for her. We've already searched the house."

Davis's heart thundered in his chest. "There was blood," he choked angrily. "Blood on his face. Whose is it?"

"We don't know." The officer stopped, hesitant. For the first time, Davis turned to look him and realized he knew him. "Detective… Lenny, he's... completely lost it. He kept saying there was an intruder in the house. Some kind of creature. That he shot her by mistake when he tried to shoot it, but there's no evidence of a break-in or foul play. No blood anywhere other than the stuff he's wearing."

Davis couldn't find the words to respond. His throat was dry and tight.

"I'm sorry, Detective," the officer continued, tightening his grip on his shoulder before letting go. "We've got half the force looking for her. She couldn't have gone far."

Nodding, Davis tried to look grateful for the sentiment, but he knew it wouldn't be that simple. He knew what this was about, now. If Lenny didn't shoot his daughter, then those creatures had her, and he'd do anything to get her back.

"I need a minute," he said, shrugging off the officer and heading toward the house. No one tried to follow him.

Inside, the house was eerily quiet. Empty, because the search had already torn through like a hurricane and moved out into the surrounding neighborhoods. A light was on in the kitchen. His father's clock ticked faithfully in the livingroom. Aside from a few rumpled throw pillows, everything was in its place. But it was an illusion. Davis couldn't be fooled anymore.

It was still in the house, watching. Waiting for its next move. Waiting to destroy him a little more.

"Where is she!?" He bellowed into the silence, the fury rising from his chest until he breathed fire. "What do you want from her!? You want me, not her! So come and get me you FUCKING FREAKS!"

The clock ticked on.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Tick.

But the little hairs on Davis's neck started to prickle. Someone, something, was watching him.

The stairwell.

Slowly, he turned to look, his heart hammering in his skull. He held his breath, straining his ears to hear it. Something shifted in the darkness. Silver, like the glint of steel.

"YOU SON OF A BITCH!"

Davis thundered up the stairs like a frothing animal, following the sound of footsteps through the pitch black hallway, shouldered through the half-open bedroom door. Saw its broad outline against the window. Turning toward him. Waiting.

He flicked on the lights, and the thing was gone. The walls of Sadie's room were plastered with drawings. Crayon-scrawled images of green-skinned monsters with swords, covered in blood.