A cool breeze pushed its way through the black shroud of night, whistling softly through the tree branches. It seemed to deliberately push into the trailer's half-open kitchen window with a sense of urgency. Inside, it gently tousled the raven-black hair of a broken-hearted mother, as she quietly wept over the sleeping toddler in her arms.
"Why can't I go with her? What would the danger be there?" the young woman sobbed.
"Yarra," the tall man next to her said firmly, "she is looking for you, for all of us. When she comes for you, and she will, make no mistake ..." He paused for a moment, searching the floor with his silver eyes, as to beseech the yellowed tiles for the right words. "When she comes, if Sunyah is with you, she will tear her apart in front of your eyes." He choked back his own sobs as those terrible words left his lips. "We must do whatever we can to protect our daughter. She is the last link to our legacy."
Yarra's weeping grew louder as she struggled to accept the fact she would say goodbye to her only child.
Another man stepped forward and placed his hand on sleeping Sunyah's head. "Valmat is right, my dear," he said softly, "if you love your child, as I know you do, you will give her up to save her. To save all of us."
Yarra looked up at her father through tears. He had always been her greatest comfort and her guide. Kalmutt was the Elder of Thunder, the one whom they all followed and trusted. In two hundred years, he had never led them down any path they didn't truly need to be on.
She sighed long and hard, and with a tender kiss to her daughter's cheek, she handed Sunyah to her grandfather.
Kalmutt cradled the still sleeping girl to his chest and exited the ramshackle trailer toward the black Ford Explorer waiting in the driveway. A pudgy red-haired woman about thirty-five years old, wearing glasses, stepped out of the passenger's side.
"We're ready to go, sir," she whispered to the Elder.
"Thank you, Mrs. Lowe," he began, "I will hand her to you in a moment."
Mrs. Lowe nodded and stepped back into the SUV. Kalmutt lowered his head toward his granddaughter and spoke to her in a low whisper.
"My Sunyah, in your heart you will always find us. Your heart will guide you to your high place. There we will be waiting, always. Listen to the thunder, child, it will speak your name and call you home." He lovingly kissed her forehead, and as he motioned for Mrs. Lowe, he spoke one last time. "Find your wings my child, ride into the storm."
He watched as the Explorer disappeared down the gravel road with the last of his line buckled into the back seat and then turned again toward the mobile home where his now painfully small family of six awaited him. He entered the kitchen once more, and their sorrow-filled faces turned to him expectantly.
"Hide the child's cloak in sand where Serpa will not go," he commanded, "and then wrap your own around you. We leave now."
The once soft breeze turned into a howling wind, and an ear-shattering clap of thunder violently shook the now empty trailer.
"Sunny Delores Farwell!"
Sunny grimaced at her mother's use of her middle name. She was nineteen years old, but that woman never failed to make her feel like she was six years old instead. Well intentioned and loving as Annabelle Farwell was, she was always losing patience with her children and was not afraid to shriek like a banshee when that patience ran out completely.
"Yes, Mother?" Sunny walked cautiously into the dining room where Annabelle was waiting with obvious agitation. "What's wrong?"
Annabelle looked at her daughter with exasperated and tired blue eyes. "Sunny, how many million, zillion, BAJILLION times have I told you NOT to open the windows when it storms?!" She turned toward the window next to the dining table and pointed out the rather large puddle that had formed underneath it. "Do you see this? I now have a lake in my dining area! If there's any water damage, missy, you best believe that YOU are paying for it!"
Sunny stared at the puddle and the water still dripping into it from the soaked windowsill. "I'm sorry, Mama. I really am. I forgot I opened it before the rain hit. I just love the way the storm smells and how the winds feel. It helps me concentrate on my work."
Sunny was ashamed she had disobeyed her mother's previous requests. But she was so eerily drawn to the rain and wind and thunder. For as long as she could remember, storms had exhilarated her. She never ran from the lightning as a child, as her brother and sister did, but instead sat at the window, enthralled with the magic of it.
"Child, you never cease to stand smack dab in the middle of my last nerve." Her mother spoke again. "We have a porch swing, so if you're inclined to write your articles in the rain, you can go outside with it. If I wanted the rain in here, I wouldn't have a roof." Annabelle shook her head and walked toward the door, pausing directly in front of Sunny. "Clean it up, make sure you dry it good as you can. I love you, girl, but don't touch my windows again ‘til you find some sense in that pretty head."
She kissed her daughter's forehead and headed into the living room. Sunny wondered if perhaps Annabelle was checking every window in the house now. She sighed and headed into the hallway to retrieve towels from the linen closet to sop up her mess.
As Sunny knelt on the floor to clean it, she had her mind on her current article. She was a journalist for her small town's even smaller newspaper, The Progress Chronicle. You didn't need a fancy degree or even a high school diploma to write for PC, just a knack for writing and a good personality. Of course, the owner being your childhood babysitter and next-door neighbor helped too. Delilah Lowe had hired Sunny when she was sixteen to deliver papers around town and gave her a journalism position after she graduated high school. She had written for her school's newspaper her senior year, and Delilah had seen great potential in her work. It was a dream job, however small, for Sunny, who had fallen in love with writing during the sixth grade.
Tap, tap.
Sunny looked toward the window above her head where the sound had just originated from. She gasped as she saw the shadow of something or someone dart out of view. She stood up to get a closer look at the area outside the window, but whatever had been there was now gone.
"Probably just Frank Sinatra running around," she said to herself, referring to the huge stray tomcat that liked to frequently visit all the neighborhood yards. He had become a Flyer Avenue mascot of sorts, and everyone on the street loved and fed him.
That assumption was quickly laid to rest, however, when her eyes looked down toward the grass. Glimmering in the sunlight that had broken through the rain clouds was what Sunny at first perceived as a black snake resting. But upon closer examination, she saw the rigid texture of a feather. A feather that appeared to be at least six feet long—as long as Sunny was tall.
Perplexed, Sunny went into the kitchen to access the back door of the house and stepped outside in the dying storm. But when she rounded the corner to the side of the house where the giant feather had been laying, it was gone.
"Okay ... so I'm going crazy?" Sunny said to herself.
"I suppose, if you keep talking to yourself like that," a voice from behind her said.
Sunny turned to see Delilah looking over the fence that separated their yards.
"What you going on about, Birdie?"
Birdie was the nickname Delilah had given Sunny as a child, because of the way she would run around outside, flapping her arms like wings every time she'd see a bird go by, as if trying to join them in flight.
"I ... I thought I saw something. Like a snake, or a big feather, or ... nothing, I guess," Sunny replied.
"Well, talking to yourself and seeing things are sure signs of crazy. Next thing you know, they'll be hauling you out of here in one of those white ’I love me’ jackets." Delilah laughed. "You probably just saw a shadow, Birdie, don't question your sanity yet."
"You're probably right, Ms. Lowe," said Sunny with a bit of embarrassment, "just a shadow t
hat my tired mind turned into something creeping."
"Well, don't let your mind get too tired, Birdie," Delilah said with light admonishment. "I expect an article from you by tomorrow afternoon."
Sunny smiled at her boss and neighbor. "Yes, ma'am. It'll be on your desk."
Delilah said goodbye, mumbling something about "damned house work that wouldn't finish itself," and turned back toward her home.
Sunny decided to forget about the mystery object that was or was not real and put her mind on her article. She was writing about the opening of the new dinner theater in town, the first of its kind for their area.
No sooner had Sunny re-entered the house and sat at the dining room table with her laptop, her mother demanded her attention.
"Sunny, baby," Annabelle started, "I'm sorry but I'm gonna need you to run and get the groceries for dinner tonight, I've got to go watch Lincoln for a couple hours."
Lincoln was the four-year-old son of Annabelle's best friend and co-worker, Maisy.
Her mother continued, "Seems Maisy and Darryl had another one of their fights, and he done run off again. She's a mess and intent on scouring all of Progress to find him and drag him back home."
Sunny sighed. She was never going to get this piece done. "All right, Momma. Where's the list?"
"On the fridge as usual, hon," Annabelle answered as she picked up her purse. "Thank you, sweetie. I promise I won't bother you again after this. Remember to grab the coupons from the drawer."
As her mother walked out the door, Sunny yelled a goodbye and set about gathering her things before her trip to town. She took off her sweats, pulled on a pair of tattered blue jeans, and brushed her wild, black hair into a ponytail. As she stared into the bathroom mirror, she pondered over how different she looked from her mother and siblings. Annabelle had adopted Sunny when she was a three, and it was always obvious just by looking at them. The Farwells were all petite, blond, brown eyed, and freckled, while Sunny was tall and tan with raven-black hair and sharp gray eyes. She had always felt out of place among them. Not just because of her looks, but because of her free-spirited and loud personality. Annabelle and her birth children were all delightfully southern, low key, and modest. Sunny had often embarrassed them with her odd quirks and hyperactivity.
Sunny frowned a little at the thought but hurriedly chased it away with the assurance her family did indeed love her regardless of the differences between them. After all, Annabelle didn't have to take her into the family and raise her. She had wanted to.
That thought brought a smile back to Sunny's face. She snapped the ponytail holder into place around her hair and set off to retrieve her mother's list and mile-high stack of coupons from the kitchen.
Tap, tap.
Sunny whipped around at the familiar noise in time to see a huge shadow move across the covered bathroom window. She gulped and just stood there for a moment, wondering if she really was losing it or if something was really out there.
She didn't like the idea of either option.
She also didn't like the idea of looking out the window again. This time she opted to quickly gather the items needed for her grocery trip and practically hold her breath as she ran like a scared rabbit out the front door and toward her car. She slid into the driver's seat and locked all four doors.
Sunny noticed new storm clouds had gathered and the wind had picked up. "Better hurry before this gets bad," she mumbled to herself and shakily started her beat-up Nissan Altima.
As she pulled into the street, lightning struck, and the light from it cast a large, moving shadow over half the neighborhood. Sunny yelped a little. The shadow had looked to her like an enormous eagle or bird of some sort, soaring overhead. "Get ahold of yourself, crazy person," she chastised herself. "There are no birds THAT big."
Sunny shook off her irrational fear, convincing herself she was just exhausted, turned on the local rock station, and turned onto the main road into town.
She arrived at the supermarket just as a torrential downpour started. She got onto herself about not remembering her umbrella and ran for the store.
Sunny followed her mother's list, said hi to a few familiar faces, and pushed the shopping cart toward aisle number five to check out. As soon as she started placing her items onto the conveyer belt, she felt someone's eyes burning a hole into her.
She looked up and scanned the front of the market warily, passing over each person, until her eyes met his.
Her heart immediately sped up as she stared at the tall, raven-haired stranger with silver eyes. He stared her down intently, standing still as a stone statue. He didn't even blink.
Sunny didn't know what to do at that moment other than pay for her groceries and run. So she did just that. She almost tipped her shopping cart over as she dodged other customers as quickly as she could.
It was still raining hard when she got outside, and she slipped several times on the way to her car. She didn't remember parking so far away. She could barely see through the rain and accidently rammed into someone else's truck. She pulled the shopping cart back and continued forward. She didn't have time to be concerned over possibly denting the pickup. Nobody yelled after her, but she didn't plan to stop even if they had.
She finally reached her car, yanked open the back door, and threw the bags inside, not caring if an egg broke or if the bread was smashed. She would explain to Momma, and she would surely understand the reason for the disheveled groceries.
Sunny pushed the empty shopping cart into the next parking space, and flung herself into the driver's seat, slamming her door shut and engaging all locks. She panted and looked around what she could make out of the parking lot through the rain. "I can't ... I can't drive in this ... I can't see anything ... oh God ..." she sputtered. She didn't want to wait around, but she also didn't want to die in a car accident. The sun was setting, and the rain wasn't letting up, making for hazardous driving conditions.
She decided to turn on her headlights. A decision she immediately regretted when they revealed the silver-eyed man standing no more than seven feet from her car. Stoic. Calm. Eerily unaffected by the waters of heaven being poured violently over him.
He started walking toward her.
Sunny screamed, immediately forgot the weather, and threw her car into reverse. She narrowly missed an oncoming SUV its horn blaring angrily.
She sped out of the parking lot, zoomed through a yellow light, and stayed fifteen miles over the speed limit. She had been so terrified that she had not paid much attention to her lack of visibility from both the weather and the tears in her eyes. She inadvertently ran a red light this time, almost getting herself hit by a minivan, and then shrieking, she pulled off the main road onto a gravel one.
She put the car in park, turned off the headlights, and then began to have a meltdown.
Through all the screaming and whimpering, shaking, and confusion, Sunny realized she had been gone for more than two hours and neglected to bring her cell phone. Annabelle would be having a heart attack of her own right now had she already returned home.
Sunny looked out her window and saw the rain had substantially lightened during her fit, allowing the streetlights to illuminate the road sufficiently. She put the car back in drive and slowly pressed on the gas pedal, inching back onto the street. She white-knuckled the steering wheel for the rest of the drive home.
When she pulled back up to their two-story brick house, Sunny noticed her mother's car was in the driveway, but there was no light shining from inside. Sunny tensed up. Why would her mother be sitting in the dark? An instant feeling of terror struck Sunny's spine, and she slowly got out of her car, forgetting the groceries.
As she stepped up onto the porch, she noticed immediately that the front door was ajar. She stood silent for a moment, trembling and listening for any movement inside the house. Common sense told her to turn tail and call the police from Delilah's house. But
concern told her to find her mother first. What if she was hurt? Sunny didn't want to leave her alone in there any longer.
Against her better judgment, Sunny chose to look for Annabelle and walked softly and slowly through the door and into the living room. The only light came from the streetlight outside, casting a dull yellow tone over the flower-patterned couch and recliner she always insisted were the two ugliest pieces of furniture in the world.
"Momma?" Sunny whispered into the shadows, hoping naively that Annabelle had a migraine and had just decided to sit in the dark until it passed, forgetting to shut the door as she hurried inside to find her ibuprofen.
But there was no reply. No sound at all in the entire house.
Sunny had never wished so hard that her brother and sister were home. But Andrew was three states away at college, and Alexis lived with her father, Duncan, in New York.
Duncan Farwell had left Annabelle a year after adopting Sunny and had never desired a relationship with her. He never sent her a birthday card. Alexis never cared for Sunny either, seeing her adopted sister as a threat to her established place as princess of the family. Sunny was only one month younger than Alexis, which meant they usually had shared birthday parties, and this had infuriated the older girl to no end. Over the years, they had managed to develop a tolerance of each other, however, and Alexis would call once a month to chat, and sometimes, she sent Sunny a Christmas gift. She never visited Sunny and Annabelle, using the excuse that travel was too expensive. But the truth was, Alexis loved her father more than anyone, including her mother, and Duncan had done a fine job spoiling her until she had no desire to leave.
Annabelle cried for Alexis often. And it broke Sunny's heart.
Andrew had been a different story. He was two years older than the girls, a momma's boy, and had welcomed a new little sister. He always let Sunny follow him around wherever he went, play with his video games, and look at his comic books. After seeing how their father abandoned Sunny, Andrew had taken it upon himself to be the man in her life. Sunny adored him, and they still spoke every weekend. He told her about college life, the girls he dated, the parties, his classes, and more. He was supposed to come home for the summer, but he had found a job and a pretty girl to keep him where he was. Sunny hated it but wanted him to be happy, so she had simply told him she hoped she would see him soon and to have fun.
In this moment, she wished she had thrown the biggest fit of her life and made him come back.
Quietly, Sunny crept into the kitchen. She rounded the island and headed toward the dining area at the back. The minute she stepped through the door, she cried out. On the floor under the same window Sunny had left open earlier that day was Annabelle.
Sunny fell onto her knees and crawled to her mother. "Momma!" she cried out as she grabbed Annabelle's face. She gasped at the coldness of her mother's skin and the wet foam coming from her open mouth. Even worse were Annabelle's eyes. Her blue eyes were open in what could only be described as sheer horror.
"Momma ... Momma, no ... no, no, no ... please ..." Sunny collapsed onto Annabelle's body and sobbed, soaking the dead woman's yellow blouse in hot tears. Her hands moved to her mother's shoulders, and she felt a sticky wet substance. Sunny pulled her hand back and recognized blood. She held back vomit and whimpered as she looked over her mother's body to see where it had originated.
The blood had seeped out of two large, open wounds on the back of her mother's neck. Sonny stared, perplexed. The marks looked like something with fangs had bitten down on Annabelle. She gagged and turned away. What the hell had happened? Who did this? WHAT did this? A vampire? Some science-fiction-sized spider monster?
"More like a snake."
Sunny practically broke her neck turning around to face the sudden voice that had answered her thoughts.
It was the man from the market. He had followed her home.
She jumped back and pointed an accusing finger at him. "YOU! WHO are you? Why?! Why did you kill my mother? What the fuck do you want from me?!" Sunny shook uncontrollably and started to weep, never taking her eyes off him.
He stepped toward her. "I didn't kill Annabelle, child. And I'm not here to hurt you." He paused momentarily, staring down at her. "I'm here to help you, before you die as well."
Sunny stared at him, saying nothing. Her eyes implied to him that he had not gained her trust.
"If you'll give me just a moment, I will explain everything to you." He looked at her, hoping for some response.
She finally obliged him and spoke up. "How do I know that anything you say is true? You've been following me. I've been ..." she trailed off.
"Seeing things? Like feathers and shadows?".
Sunny nodded, her eyes wide at his revelation of her experience.
He walked closer and then knelt beside her. Sunny immediately tensed up and scooted toward the wall.
He spoke again. "Let me explain it all. Let me show you. Please. This is important. You don't have to fear me."
Sunny whispered, "Okay. But I probably won't believe you."
The man sighed and then continued. "Firstly, child, I think you need to know your name, because I'll be addressing you by it."
"My name is Sunny,” she said, voice cracking.
"No," he answered. “That is not your name. Not the one your family gave you, anyway. Not your true name."
Sunny stared at him, confused.
"Your name, child, is Sunyah. And I am your brother, Fallah."
Sunny didn't move as she choked out, "What? Who ... what? No."
"Yes," Fallah said sternly. "Yes, Sunyah. It was our mother who gave you up nineteen years ago."
Sunny fainted and collapsed the rest of the way to the floor.