by KC Hunter
“Yeah, well we’re closed right now if you couldn’t tell. I don’t care who you’re working for. We’ve got a mess to clean up.” He turned to the guards and pushed one on the shoulder. “Could one of you clean that up? I can’t stand all this noise and violence and blood. I’m getting faint.”
Russell put the back of his hand to his forehead and stumbled a few feet backwards.
His guards traded mocking smiles and then left his side to clean up the bodies. Kana watched as Russell shuffled his rotund body back to his desk and grabbed his inhaler. It took two deep breaths before his shoulders relaxed and his hands stopped shaking. He leaned over the table, wiped the sweaty strands of hair from his forehead, and sat down.
“You’re not going to call the cops?” Kana questioned.
“For what? To report I had my illegal merchandise stolen from a bunch of bikers who I’ve worked with for two years now?”
“Good point.”
“You still haven’t told me what your name is or what you want.”
“I’m Kana—”
“You know what, never mind. If you want anything out of me, and you’re as much of a badass as you seem, then go get back my merchandise. That jack-off Nitro Nick swiped something from the back room.”
“I saw. A silver piece of metal or something like that.”
Russell lowered his glasses to the edge of his nose. “It’s the Ring of Gyges. Bring it back and I’ll tell you whatever you want to know or trade whatever you want to trade.
But that little bastard can’t have it. I’d send those two after him but...” Russell and Kana turned to see the guards struggling to move the dead bodies. “I think you have a better chance Mrs. Kana.”
“It’s just Kana. How about you—”
“No! That’s the deal. Take it or leave it. And don’t think of taking the ring for yourself. It’s worthless unless you know how to use it or who to give it to.”
“How do you know I don’t?”
“Trust me. There are only three people in the world who do. I need it back. So, off you go.”
Russell stood up and walked over to his guards, chastising them on how they were handling the cleanup. If Kana wanted to get any answers out of him, she’d have to help him first. She rolled her eyes and ran back to her car to track down the thieves while she still could.
Nitro Nick’s crew slowed their speed once they left the warehouse district. On the open road, where few if any cops roamed and traffic was not an issue, four motorcycles—or choppers—followed behind a raggedy truck in single file.
The two-lane road extended into the horizon beyond, straight and narrow, surrounded by sparse vegetation and a few shacks along the way. A mile behind them, tearing up the road at breakneck speed, was Kana in her Dodge Challenger. The gap between her and this caravan decreased by the second. With the robbers now in sight, she pressed down hard on the gas pedal, pushing the sports car to its limits.
“Do you hear that?” Chad shouted over to Nick.
Nick looked behind them to see a small growing dot rocketing towards them. Once he identified it as another vehicle in pursuit he waved to the other bikers with his index and middle finger extended. Chad understood the direction, moved up beside the truck, and pounded on its side, making the same gesture to the driver. The caravan increased its speed as Nick slowed his, wanting to confront their pursuer.
Within thirty seconds the Challenger was within view. He peered into the car, seeing Kana at the wheel, and went for his gun. She swerved toward him, nearly knocking him off the road. Nick’s skills were to the task, and he sped up, avoiding her car clipping his rear tire but dropped the gun in the process.
Both vehicles strained and rattled under the pressure of their increasing speed. Nick thought he could outrun her, but Kana was gaining on him far faster than he had expected.
“Not this time,” he muttered underneath his helmet. “Come on! Move!”
Behind him the Challenger roared again. He could feel the car closing in on him, the heat from the car’s engine warming his back. Kana moved to his right side, forcing Nick into the oncoming traffic lane, as two raced side by side down the vacant highway.
“Pull over!” she yelled out the window. “Stop the damn bike!”
“Not on your life sweetheart,” he replied.
“Sweetheart? Here comes your sweetheart, dumbass!”
She pointed ahead at the oncoming semi-truck barreling down the road, directly at him. Kana didn’t allow him out of the lane, lifting her foot off the gas pedal to keep him on her left when he slowed down and speeding up when he tried to get ahead.
The truck’s horn blared. Nick didn’t want to lose to this woman—this mongrel as he saw her—not for a second time. He’d have to get ahead of her car and slide out of his lane and into hers. He tried speeding up, slowing down, weaving back and forth. It was no use. The woman was too good of a driver to fall for any of his tricks.
“Pull over, Nick!” she yelled at him again.
No. He’d beat her. He had to.
The semi was getting closer, its driver pressing the horn. At this distance the truck had nowhere to go. The road dipped five feet or more on each side providing no shoulder to escape the coming collision. Kana would not let him over. He’d have to stop the bike.
“Screw it,” he said to himself.
He made one last attempt to speed past her car. The hope was Kana would fold in this game of chicken and let him over. There was no way, in Nick’s mind, that she’d let the truck splatter him all over the road, yet she still blocked his escape. The truck’s horn grew louder. Kana screamed at him again to stop.
The image of his body strewn across the roadway in a mess of meat and broken bones flashed in front of his eyes. There wasn’t any other choice. He swerved out of the truck’s path seconds before impact. His bike hit a rock as he turned off the road, away from both the truck and the Challenger. He lost control of the handlebars, the front tire twisting so violently that it jerked them free from his grip. Nick felt his bowels empty as his vision became a whirling blur of colors, the sound of the truck’s groaning horn passing him by, and when it all stopped, he was face down in the grass, the pain of a broken leg and a cracked rib signaling his defeat.
“Why didn’t you just stop the bike?” Kana asked as she walked towards the wreckage.
The chopper pinned Nick beneath it, pieces of the bike scattered around him, the rear tire spinning. She watched him pat various parts of his body, checking to see if all his limbs were intact. He spat a few wads of blood at Kana as she approached, his defiance lasting until the end.
“My boys will be back. You better run,” he said, his warning coming through bubbles of blood and spit.
Kana looked down the highway at the caravan as it continued to drive away from the wreckage. She grinned, crouched down onto her haunches, and extended a hand to him.
“It doesn’t look like they’re coming,” she said. “I guess loyalty can’t be expected for someone who stabs his own people in the back.”
“Screw you!”
“No, no, nah-no-no-no. That’s not how you treat the only person who can save your life. Why don’t you hand it over?”
The driver of the semi-truck crept towards the scene, his hands extended as he hopped down into the ditch.
He backed up a few paces once he saw the blood. “For God’s sake, what the heck were you two doing? I almost ran you over!”
“Call for an ambulance,” Kana replied. “He’s going to need help.”
“Who are you?” the trucker asked.
“She’s an opportunistic bitch is what she is,” Nick said, spitting another wad of blood in her direction.
“Opportunistic,” Kana said with a coy grin. “That’s a big word for you, Nick. I’m impressed.” She turned her attention back to the trucker. “I’d make myself scarce if I was you. This man’s in a biker gang that just committed a robbery. You don’t want your name involved.”
“Th
at’s all I need to know, honey,” the trucker said. “I’m gonna call for an ambulance. Y’all have a good day now.”
The trucker stumbled back out of the ditch, his pants nearly falling off as he scampered up the incline back to his vehicle. Even though Kana exaggerated about the danger he was in, the best thing was for him to leave. The fewer eyes the better, sht thought.
“Okay, so you want to hand that ring over?” she asked Nick again.
His eyes darted around at the wreckage. Maybe he was looking for a weapon or his phone or some other means of escaping without giving up his prize. Seeing nothing he could use, Nick closed his eyes, exhaled, and pulled the ring from his pocket. He threw it at Kana, further solidifying his sore loser status, and waved her away.
She picked the ring out of the dirt and headed back to her car. Nick couldn’t help but throw a few profane threats her way as she left. She’d let him have his tantrum. There were far more important things that needed her attention.
***
Russell spun the ring on the desk of his table like a coin, laughing as he poured himself a drink and waved it over his head like a victorious king who had retrieved his crown jewels. He ranted for five minutes after Kana returned his merchandise about how he’d make sure Nitro Nick rotted in a Turkish prison for his botched attempted robbery. He claimed to have enough information on other crimes from Nick’s past he’d inform the authorities about, all while keeping himself out of the paper trail.
The man-child was so enraptured with his own plans and schemes of retribution he didn’t notice Kana’s complete lack of interest, her foot tapping against the concrete floor. Once again, she’d let a little man with a big mouth spout grand proclamations until he got it out of his system. There was no use interrupting him, he’d just continue, so she waited.
“I’m sorry,” Russell said, now addressing her instead of bloviating. “I appreciate what you did. I'll pay you. You have your own business with me so let’s hear it.”
“I’m not after money. I don’t want to buy any of your stolen possessed artifacts.”
“Have a look at this will you?” Russell interrupted.
Kana rolled her eyes but complied with his request. She took a few steps to his desk and focused on the ring he so coveted.
“Do you know the story about the Ring of Gyges?” he asked.
“Yeah, it’s like the one in Lord of the Rings. Plato made it up in some story about the wearer becoming invisible.” She paused for his reaction. “You don’t mean to tell me that thing actually works?”
“Does it work? Yes. Have I tried it myself? No. I have to admit I’m afraid to. The one person I knew who used it had... problems after doing so. But that’s not what makes this ring important. It’s precious. It’s sought after. Precious things are hard to take care of and often require the strong to sacrifice for them.”
“If we’re done with your philosophy lesson, I’m hear about the McNeils.”
Russell blinked at the mention of the family. He stashed the ring inside a metal lock box and gave Kana his undivided attention. His face went through a series of emotions; a crooked smile, then a wide-eyed realization followed by the hint of a scowl.
“You know Alice? How is she?” he asked.
“Not so good. The family has—”
“I never liked that sad sack she married. Mark McNeil: a man with so little imagination and even less of a personality. Her and I shared a special bond. When we were kids—”
“Hey! I’m not interested in your back story or your weird obsession with a married woman. Their child is in trouble.”
“Melody?”
“Yes, and you have something to do with it.”
“Why would I have anything to do with it?”
Kana pressed both of her hands on the top of the table, bearing over Russell. “You sold them the house. In the attic we found the residue of a painting, a painting their daughter spent an unusual amount of time with. She’s now the object of an incubus because of it. Does this ring any bells for you?”
Russell stood from his desk and paced back and forth, plucking at his lower lip.
“The Lonely Girl,” he said with tightened lips.
“Who?”
“That’s the name of the painting: The Lonely Girl. Follow me.”
He led the way into the gated area of the warehouse where his stash of collectibles, rare artifacts, and other stolen paranormal merchandise were stored. The place smelled of mold, the air tasting of copper. It made Kana’s skin crawl. Several isles of shelves stretched to the ceiling, each filled with various knickknacks she couldn’t analyze at first glance. The path ended near the back of the collection. There on the wall were six paintings, each a portrait of a human figure, old-fashioned and aristocratic.
“I used that house for storage until I had everything moved here. Less traceable that way if it was a private residence. There are advantages though to being way out here in a broken-down warehouse. My father said Alice and her husband needed a house, so I offered to sell it.”
“So, there’s no malicious intent here? Are you sure you didn’t just leave one of your artifacts behind to screw with them?”
Russell looked down at the floor, pushed against the concrete with the toe of his shoe while he fumbled for an answer. “No. I mean, the thought crossed my mind, but I didn’t do it.” Kana stared at him blankly. “I didn’t! Mainly for the very reason you’re here. They have a kid. I don’t mess with kids. I wouldn’t have minded if Mark got a bad rash or something like that. Alice’s daughter though... no way in the world would I do anything to her.”
Russell’s admiration for Alice poured through his eyes, his skin, his posture, and that extended to her child. He explained how he hired a company to move his belongings from the house to the warehouse. In return she filled him in on the phenomena at the McNeil’s house.
“These paintings have a spirit attached to them?” Kana asked, observing the six portraits from a safe distance.
“Yes. A few were dangerous. The painter who made these had deep ties to the occult.
He was a member of various secret societies, you see, and he used his passion for art to express the darker aspects of his mind. Zacharias, that was his name. But you said what’s haunting Melody is an incubus.”
“That seems to be the case.”
“It’s not. An incubus is an imp. What you described sounds like a full-grown demon.
That would make sense. These paintings are all of innocence but the spirits within are anything but. I’m protected here because I know how to contain them.” Kana followed
Russell’s finger as he pointed above at a litany of runes etched into the ceiling.
“So, it’s something else. Something far worse,” Kana said. “I have to go.”
Kana marched out of the storage area. An incubus she knew how to handle, the process was clear and documented by many before her. What haunted the McNeils was far more powerful than that. They were dealing with a full-on demon, summoned by an eccentric artist who imprinted devils in paintings. The realization triggered another alarm in Kana’s head. If AJ used his version of the Ganzfeld Experiment to find the monster’s name it’d open the door for the demon’s attacks to become lethal.
“I may have something here that can help you. Let me look,” Russell called to her.
“There’s no time. I know what it wants. And I know how to handle this.”
“What do you mean?”
“You said it yourself,” she stopped and glanced over her shoulder to answer him.
“Sometimes the strong need to protect the precious.”
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