“Thank you,” Silas answered. “While you’re busy hiding, I’m the one out there taking all the risks.”
“Let me go, Silas,” Joseph pleaded. “For the love of—”
“Let me go, Silas,” the man imitated. “You’re boring me, boy.” He stood up slowly.
Joseph saw his captor begin to walk over. As Silas approached, Joseph saw the man shift the knife in his hand. The knife went up, paused in mid-air, and suddenly came flashing down. Joseph felt a sharp pain in his left thigh as the knife struck. He howled uncontrollably.
“You’re quite the screamer now, aren’t you?” Silas mocked. “No, we can’t have that.” He reached over and grabbed Joseph’s foot.
Joseph felt his shoe being yanked off. A moment later, the other shoe followed suit. “W-what are you doing to me?”
“I told you to be quiet,” Silas warned. “But you’re not listening.”
Joseph felt first one sock and then the other being pulled off. Silas stood up, and Joseph saw the man was holding up a pair of black socks. His socks.
“Hold his mouth open,” Silas ordered.
Several unseen hands grabbed his head roughly. Joseph tried to keep his mouth shut but was quickly overpowered. A wave of fear swept over him. He saw Silas’s hand come rushing forward and felt the woolen socks being shoved roughly into his mouth. The fabric hit his gag reflex, and he immediately started to retch. Joseph felt hands grab the sides of his head again a split second before his head was slammed against the back of the chair. He felt an immediate shot of pain as the previously injured lump on the back of his head slammed into the unforgiving wood chair back.
“Gimme the tape,” Silas ordered.
Joseph saw someone hand the Guardian leader a roll of duct tape. The man held the roll up where Joseph couldn’t help but see it and began to slowly pull a strip off it. Silas tore the tape off of the roll with a flourish and slapped it over Joseph’s mouth.
“Give me the cleaver,” Silas ordered.
A wave of terror rushed over Joseph, and he blacked out.
A wave of cold water woke Joseph with a start. As the water ran down his face and away from his eyes, he spotted one of the Guardians holding an empty bucket.
“Help me,” Joseph tried to plead, but the makeshift gag in his mouth turned the sound into a strangled mumble.
“Wakey, wakey,” Silas taunted. “We’re going to have some fun now.” He held a meat cleaver up and turned it slowly, letting the overhead light reflect off the blade.
Joseph screamed and began fighting against his bindings.
“Well, I’m going to have some fun. You’re not going to like this,” Silas admitted. The man bent down in front of Joseph’s right foot. “This little piggy went to market. This little piggy went home. This little piggy... Oh, the hell with it.” Silas swung the cleaver down.
The blade slammed into Joseph’s foot, and he immediately screamed in agony. He bucked against his restraints, but none of them offered any give. As the wave of pain started to ebb, Joseph looked bleary-eyed at the floor. There was something lying by the side of his bleeding foot. He blinked his eyes and tried to focus his eyes once more. His foot was missing a digit and a wave of shock came over him. Lying next to his foot was his now-separated little toe.
“Like I said, I’m going to have some fun,” Silas continued. “You need to learn there are certain people in this world that a pissant like you doesn’t ever fuck with.”
Joseph saw the meat cleaver rise up in the air and then come rushing downward again. He felt an impact on his foot, a split second before a new shot of pain rushed up his leg. Joseph screamed uncontrollably against the gag in his mouth. He had to get away from this madman. He fought vainly against his bindings, harder than he had ever battled anything in his life. But the restraints were stronger than his body could manage to overpower. He saw the cleaver rise up in the air again, and this time Joseph fainted before the weapon struck home.
Silas looked over at the dead man still strapped into the chair. He was tired but pleasantly sated. He had been working over Joseph for several hours now. He had to have his men revive the little shit a few times, because he kept passing out. But eventually there was no reviving left to do.
Silas looked around the room. It wouldn’t do for Ezekiel to automatically think someone in the congregation had tortured and murdered his beloved Joseph.
Silas needed a scapegoat. Should he pin it on one of his men? He glanced at the men who had watched the entire situation play out. Two of them looked like they were ready to pass out. Another one refused to make eye contact with him at all. No, blaming them for his actions might create more problems than it solved. If he framed one of his men, then he’d have to worry about the remaining ones running to Ezekiel. As he thought it through, a new plan began to form in his mind. When he was ready, he cleared his throat for dramatic effect.
“Toss the place,” Silas ordered.
“Like somebody robbed him?” a male voice asked.
Silas didn’t bother to look at who had spoken. “Yeah.”
“You think he had something worth killing for?” the same foot soldier asked.
“Probably. Look for anything he wasn’t supposed to have. Or valuables,” Silas answered. He pointed to a nearby dining room table. “Put them there.”
The men moved slowly, pulling out drawers and staging a home robbery.
A few minutes later, Silas was looking at a pretty pitiful pile of potential loot. Three hundred dollars and two bags of marijuana. He didn’t smoke the stuff, but maybe he could trade it with somebody else. He stuffed the drugs in his pocket. He took the cash and distributed it equally between his men. Several of them looked uncomfortable taking the money, but Silas didn’t give a damn. By taking the money, they were even more involved in Joseph’s murder. Now it was time to fully commit them to the story he was about to concoct.
Silas reached into his jacket, searching for one specific item. His fingers quickly found it, and he slowly pulled it out of his pocket. He glanced at the police badge in hands. A few days ago, he’d found it on the body of a dead Reaper. He didn’t know why he pocketed it then. But it was exactly what he needed right now. He took the badge and dropped it on Joseph's mutilated body.
“Well, that’s just terrible,” he said in a mocking tone. “Boys, it looks like we were too late to save ol’ Joseph from being tortured. Any one of you have any doubts that Foster wasn’t responsible for this man’s untimely demise?” He stared at the remaining Guardians, defying any of them to oppose him.
A series of no’s quickly blurted out.
“Good. I’m glad we are all in agreement,” Silas said. “We need to tidy up here a little before we head back. Once we get back to home base, I’ll report our findings to Ezekiel personally.”
The men quietly set about removing any self-incriminating evidence and withdrew from the apartment. Silas was pleased that each one of his men avoided eye contact with him and did not say a word about what had happened. A few minutes later, they were ready to leave and head back to the Guardian headquarters.
As the men rode back in silence, Silas quietly thought about what he’d managed to pull off. Now more than ever, Ezekiel would need him. He would need him to avenge the death of his beloved assistant. With the evidence that Silas had left behind, it wouldn’t be much of a stretch to suggest Foster had been the one who had killed Joseph.
Chapter Forty
Foster slowly approached the veterinary clinic. The neighborhood was quiet, but that was how he expected it to be. Most people would be at home sleeping. Haas and his army of Reapers were expecting him. And if the Disciples showed up, then he’d call for help. He wasn’t expecting trouble, but then it was never a good idea to walk into a meeting with a potentially hostile contact unprepared. Today’s version of a Quick Response Force was Sams and Lizzy waiting in the Chevy Suburban two blocks away. Foster had brought his Glock, along with two extra magazines topped off with Reaper bullets. Wors
t case, if he ran out of ammo, he’d use his silver dagger to fight his way out. He was feeling a bit more anxious than normal. He blamed it on his recent call to Black. The SWAT Sergeant was not happy at all to hear that they had to delay the pickup by twenty-four hours and that the only explanation Foster could offer was he was still working on something important. He hadn’t liked leaving his ally in the dark. But right now, it was better for Foster if Black didn’t have the full story.
Foster worked his way around the building and entered from the rear.
“Foster,” a voice called out. “You came alone. That’s good.”
“Of course.”
“You did leave a few friends nearby,” Haas answered.
“Backup,” Foster answered. “In case the Disciples show up.”
Haas chuckled. “I understand. But they won’t be a problem. You called this meeting. What do you want?”
“Remember your whole big speech?” Foster said. “The one about enemy of my enemy?”
“Of course.” Haas sneered. “Don’t you?”
“Sure, but here’s the thing. In order for me to get to our mutual problem, we still need a way out of town,” Foster said. “Between the Guardian Disciples and your soldiers, this town is pretty much locked down,” Foster said.
“The Guardians asked for more help with patrols,” Haas answered. “As you humans might say, my hands are tied. I can’t refuse to help them if I’m going to keep up appearances. Why can’t you shoot your way past the Guardians?”
“We can get in a shootout. But the odds are probably not in our favor.”
“Are you scared, human?” Haas chuckled. “How pitiful.”
“Not at all. Smart. Gunfire is loud. The Guardians will be shooting back and can call for reinforcements. If we start out fighting a handful of enemies, then in a matter of minutes, hundreds more are drawn by the noise. Including more of your Reapers.”
“So what do you want? A personal escort out of town?”
“That’s not practical,” Foster said. “Like you said, it’s probably not a good idea for the two of us to be seen together.”
“Get to the point, human. You’re making my head hurt.”
“We need a way out. Can you arrange for one of the guard posts to be unmanned?”
Haas absently stroked his chin. After a long, uncomfortable moment, he said, “Probably not. It would raise too many questions. But perhaps one location could only have a few guards. Would that work?”
“It depends. If your soldiers are blocking the road, then we’ll have no choice but to engage them. It could mean we have to kill those soldiers in order to escape. Are you okay if that happens?”
Haas let out a low grumble. “It would be an acceptable loss under the circumstances.”
“We’ll do our best to avoid bloodshed, if possible.”
“I said it would be an acceptable loss.” Haas grumbled. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”
“Great. You’ll forgive me if I don’t want to shake hands.”
“Feeling’s the same, human.”
“Right,” Foster answered. “When will you have things in place for us?”
Haas rumbled. “Whenever you want. You pick a location, and I give the command to my warriors. They will obey without hesitation.”
Foster proceeded to describe where they wanted to leave town.
“I’m familiar with that area,” Haas rumbled. “I’ll arrange for things to be easy to leave town from there.”
“That works. Thank you.”
“Of course. Now, I must go. It’s risky if we are seen together.”
“I understand,” Foster answered. “I’ll wait two minutes and leave in a different direction.” He watched as Haas retreated into the shadows and then was gone. Foster let out the breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. The meeting had gone better than he expected. It was risky to count on a new ally that he barely knew to be able to help them escape. But the only way he’d consider helping Haas overthrow his Reaper King was for the former human to lend some help to Foster’s group first.
Chapter Forty-One
The truck pulled to a stop in front of the chapel. Silas climbed out and headed inside, not bothering to check if the rest of his men were following his lead. He spotted a pair of Guardians just inside. The sentries immediately snapped to attention.
“I need to talk Ezekiel right now,” Silas ordered. “Call him and tell him that I’m on my way.”
“But it’s the middle of the night,” one of them protested. “He’s not going to be happy about being woken up.”
“I don’t care. Tell him it’s an emergency,” Silas replied. “I’ll be there in ten minutes.” He strode off without waiting for their reply.
Silas only needed a few minutes to actually reach Ezekiel’s private chambers. But he figured their esteemed leader would need the extra time to get somewhat presentable.
In precisely ten minutes, he arrived in front of the cult leader’s quarters. Silas knocked twice and waited until he heard Ezekiel give him permission before entering the domicile. His eyes fell on a young blonde who looked like she had just woken up.
“Leave us,” Ezekiel ordered. The woman scurried out of the chambers. He waited until the door closed before blurting, “This better be good.”
“I have bad news,” Silas said calmly. He added what he hoped sounded like a somber tone to his voice. “I think you might want to sit down.”
“That bad?”
Silas nodded silently.
“Oh, boy,” Ezekiel muttered. He made a beeline toward a home bar. He paused and said, “Do you want a drink?”
“Thanks, but I’m on duty.”
“Of course you are,” Ezekiel said. He grabbed the bottle of Angel’s Envy bourbon and poured himself a double. He walked back to his desk and sat down heavily.
“Okay, what’s so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?”
“Joseph is dead,” Silas blurted out.
“What?”
Silas put a troubled look on his face. He continued speaking in what he hoped was a convincing performance. “We got a tip from a confidential informant that Joseph might be in danger. Time was of the essence, so I pulled together a small team and rushed to his apartment. But we were too late. From what we found, it appeared he had been tortured before he was killed.”
“Why? The man wouldn’t have hurt a fly,” Ezekiel mumbled. He slammed back his drink and headed back to the bar for a refill.
Silas waited for him to return back to his seat. “There was a police badge lying on his body. Like a fucking calling card.”
“Wait, a badge?” Ezekiel stammered. “Foster was a cop.”
“Really? Then he would know how to break into places. They’re trained on how to pick locks and do all kinds of things,” Silas answered. He decided to add a bit more gusto to his growing lie. “Lots of sneaky shit. I’ve heard that’s how they catch criminals a lot of times.”
“Uh-huh,” Ezekiel mumbled. He took another long sip of his bourbon.
“I’m close to getting that son of a bitch,” Silas said. “But I need help.”
“What kind of help?”
“More men. Get them for me, and I promise you I’ll drag Foster’s sorry ass in here so he can pay for what he has done.”
“You’ll have it. Whatever you need.”
“Thank you, sir,” Silas said.
Ezekiel’s words were beginning to slur. “Was there anything else?”
“No, I don’t think so,” Silas said. He could feel his mouth watering over the bourbon’s wonderful smell. But he fought the urge to pour himself a healthy share. He needed to maintain a strong front in front of Ezekiel. “I’ve got a couple of leads on where that son of a bitch might be. If you don’t mind, sir, I’d like to go pursue them.”
“Go ahead,” Ezekiel said. “Oh, and Silas?”
“Yes?”
“If you can bring him back alive, that would be nice,”
Ezekiel said. His voice began to climb steadily in volume. “But if he fights you or gives you no other recourse, then you can bring that bastard’s body to me instead.”
“I understand, sir.”
“I don’t care how you do it,” Ezekiel said. His voice was growing louder. “Dead or alive. I don’t care. Bring me Malcolm Foster.”
“With pleasure, sir,” Silas said.
Chapter Forty-Two
The sun wouldn’t be rising for another hour, but President Vickers was already up and working at her desk. There was far too much that needed her attention right now. And that growing list of worries was enough to keep her from sleeping soundly. Vickers had tossed and turned for hours before finally giving up and started her work day earlier than she would have liked. There was a soft knock on her cabin door, and she called out for the person to enter.
The door swung open slowly, and Vickers saw Special Agent Malory Nash in the doorway.
“President Vickers, it’s time,” Nash said. The Secret Service agent and personal bodyguard stood rigidly by the open door, watching her surroundings for any potential threat to the Commander in Chief.
“Thank you, Agent Nash,” Vickers answered. She stood up from behind her desk and quietly followed her personal protector out of the room. The two of them moved quietly, working their way to the command center, located deep in the ship. As she walked into the room, the rest of the people in the room stood and saluted in attention.
“At ease. Where are we at?”
“Approximately ninety minutes from launching our attack,” General Weindahl said. “Operation Poison Arrow is still a go.”
“Well, I hope everybody brought their own beverage and a big bucket of popcorn,” Vickers quipped. “If this works as well as we hope, then we can start taking the fight back to these things.”
Vickers headed to an executive chair at the top of the table. It was larger and more prominent than the other ones in the room. Someone had added it to the room, and she hated it. She didn’t like feeling like she was being put on a pedestal compared to everybody else in the room. That’s not who she was. It wasn’t how she thought of herself, either. With this battle against the Reapers, it took each and every one of them working together to come up with a way to beat these bastards once and for all. Nobody was above the rest of the group, and she wanted to emphasize that.
The Wretched Series | Book 4 | Wretched Aftermath Page 20