Free Angel of Darkness by Katy Munger Page A

good cash flow. By the time the IRS got on to them, the doors would be padlocked and the owners long gone, having happily opened up shop somewhere else. This version was called The Pussycat Lounge and it was housed in a building that looked like it had once been a self-storage unit. They’d slapped a neon sign above the door, but the walls were corrugated metal and there were no windows to be seen. A real charming place to take your son.
    His father hopped from the truck and slammed the door behind him without another word to Adam. He headed for the front door like a heat-seeking missile and I knew it was going to be a hell of a lot longer than a few minutes before he returned.
    Adam knew it, too. He jumped from the truck and went to the rear bed, where he unearthed an enormous toolbox from under a small mountain of scrap metal and broken tiles, then rummaged around inside it until he produced a large flashlight. Back in the truck, he wound the seat belt strap around it to make a miniature lamp above his shoulder, pulled a book from his knapsack and began to concentrate on the questions in front of him.
    I could feel his mind gradually settle, the agitation leaving him as he zeroed in on the complicated formulas that filled the page from top to bottom. He had an amazing ability to tune out the world around him. I was starting to think that was a very good thing indeed. Maybe it would get him out of this place one day.

THIRTEEN
    I spent that night in Lily’s room, watching her look out over the darkness of the great lawn. I often kept her company at night, in part because I was fascinated by the dark landscape that filled her mind. It did not seem fair that such a young child should have to carry the burden of those terrible sights.
    Lily seemed particularly restless that night. She wore elastic pants and kept pulling the waistband out before letting go. It would make a snapping sound and a red line soon formed around her middle from her obsessive tugging at it. Her lower lip was red from where she had been scraping her top teeth against it for hours. I did not know if it was her illness or the medication that made her repeat the gestures over and over.
    She stood at the window for hours and only she knew what she saw. The thought of her spending another sixty years like that was dizzying. I would have chosen even my otherworld existence over such a fate. Just standing with her was mind-numbing.
    I was considering leaving to check on my son when Lily grew agitated and began to flap her hands up and down like a bird trying to fly. She looked around and seemed surprised to find herself alone in her room. She rushed to the door and flung it open so hard that it banged against the wall behind it. I followed her as she ran out into the hall and dashed to the far end, where a bored aide was leaning back in a chair, half-asleep, his feet propped up on the desk.
    â€˜A monster, a monster!’ she cried, banging her fist on the desk.
    The aide jumped up with a start, knocking over his chair. He looked panicked and then angry when he realized that it was just Lily. He fought to make his voice soothing. ‘It’s just a nightmare, little one,’ he said. ‘Did you take the medicine I gave you?’
    â€˜It’s real,’ Lilly insisted. ‘I saw it. It was a big one.’
    â€˜Let me walk you back to your room,’ the aide said soothingly, grabbing her shoulders and guiding her down the hall. She went unwillingly and he had to push her a few times. Lily could be like that. She was little, she was stubborn and she was sure of the things she saw. The aide locked the door of her room as he left. He did not want Lily disappearing on his watch: her escapes were legendary.
    She resumed her vigil at the window and I stayed with her, unwilling to leave her in her distress. Her attention to the darkness never wavered. She stood staring out at the monsters only she could see until the sun finally rose over