The books. Someone must have reported them missing.
Turning away from the door, she hurried back through the living room and snatched the books off of the coffee table. She carried the journal and its translation into her bedroom, hiding them in a dresser drawer, then started back toward the front door. The detective rang the bell a third time, and knocked, obviously growing impatient.
“Just a minute. I’m coming.” Unlocking the two locks, Ssabra pulled open the door.
The detective nodded and smiled, his eyes darting past her to see who else was inside the apartment. “Miss Onih, I’m Detective Colvin. We spoke the other day.”
“Yes, Detective, I remember you. Forgive me for taking so long to open the door, I wasn’t expecting anyone. What can I do for you?”
“I was wondering if I could talk with you for a few minutes. I tried calling you earlier, but you must not have been home.”
The detective seemed somewhat embarrassed. Perhaps he was feeling guilty for being so rude to her during their first meeting.
“Get rid of him.” Tolomato’s voice popped into her head. The Indian was obviously quite unhappy with the detective interrupting their plans to search for the offspring.
How? Ssabra formed the words in her mind. Tolomato had said that thoughts and words were the same to him. If so, then he might be able to read her mind.
“Tell him you are about to leave.”
That won’t work. He’s a cop. He won’t care if I have plans. He’ll be suspicious.
“You do not know unless you try.”
“What’s this about?” Ssabra asked, trying to keep her voice friendly.
“If you don’t mind, I would like to talk to you about a few things you said at the station the other day.”
“Oh? I was under the impression that you didn’t believe what I told you...that you thought I was some kind of mental case.”
Detective Colvin cleared his throat. “I won’t lie to you; I did find your story a little odd. But there have been a few developments since then, and I would really appreciate it if you would take the time to speak with me again.”
“Get rid of him!” Tolomato said, his voice almost a shout. “There is no time for this.”
Ssabra glanced down at her watch. “Gee, I would really like to help, but I’m running late for a very important meeting. I was just about to head out when you rang the door. What if I called you first thing in the morning?”
“Can’t you spare a few minutes now?”
She glanced at her watch again. “No. Sorry. I wish I could, but I can’t. I took time out to see you the other day, and I’ve been running behind schedule ever since. Now, if you will excuse me, Detective. I simply have to get ready for my meeting. I promise I’ll call you first thing in the morning. Good night.”
With that, Ssabra closed the door on Detective Jack Colvin. She expected the man to get mad at her, yelling that he was the police and she had better talk with him right then and there. She even expected him to put his foot in the door, like detectives always did in the movies. But he didn’t do either of those things. Instead, he said good night, adding that he looked forward to speaking with her in the morning.
She double-locked the door, breathing a sigh of relief. Ssabra listened to the detective’s footsteps as they descended the stairs. Even though she had done nothing wrong, other than steal a priceless journal from the church, she was still uncomfortable in his presence. She hoped he had believed her story about being late for a very important meeting.
Fighting monsters, stealing from churches, and lying to the police. Tolomato, what have you gotten me into?
Chapter 26
Detective Colvin returned to his car, but he did not drive away. He had been a law officer long enough to know that Ssabra Onih had been anxious to get rid of him. But why? The day before she had wanted to talk, but now it seemed his presence made her nervous. Suspecting something was amiss, he decided to keep an eye on the young woman to see if she really was going to an important meeting.
Less than thirty minutes later, he saw Ssabra coming down the stairs from her apartment. Jack glanced at his watch; it was nearly seven p.m. Sliding down in his seat to keep from being spotted, he watched as she crossed the parking lot to a blue Ford Escort. In her hands, she carried a leather purse and a small green book. If she was going to a meeting, then, judging by the way she was dressed, it must be a casual affair. Definitely not a business meeting, or a date.
“Okay, lady. What are you up to?” He pulled a cigarette from the pack on the seat beside him, but he did not light it. He didn’t want the sudden flaring of a butane lighter to get the woman’s attention; he did not want her to know that she was being watched.
Ssabra Onih climbed into her car, started the engine, and drove out of the parking lot. Jack sat up straight in the seat and started his vehicle, but gave his quarry a few seconds head start before following after her. He had tailed many a suspect, and knew all of the tricks to keep from being spotted.
The Escort headed south toward the city’s historic district. Traffic was heavy along Avenida Menendez, due to the evening influx of tourists crowding the restaurants and bars, so parking spaces were at a premium. Jack thought Miss Onih might be heading for one of the side streets to park, but a green pickup pulled out of a space on the opposite side of the street, and she did a quick U-turn in order to grab the parking space before anyone else could take it.
The detective suddenly found himself in somewhat of a predicament. There were no other spaces along the street, which meant he would have to drive past Ssabra in hopes of finding a place to park. He might be seen while driving past. He also might not find a spot right away, and would lose sight of the women. There were dozens of restaurants, bars and shops in the historic area, any one of which could be where she was going to meet someone.
He ducked down as he drove past the blue Escort, looking away to avoid eye contact. In his rearview mirror, he saw Ssabra climb out of her car and lock the door. She obviously intended to cross the street, and would probably disappear before he could find a parking place.
But luck must have been on his side that evening, for he suddenly spotted an empty space in front of him on the same side of the road. A Dodge Caravan was backing into the space, but the driver was obviously not very good at parallel parking and had overshot his first attempt. The driver pulled forward to try again, but Jack jerked his steering wheel to the right and whipped into the parking place, cutting off the van.
The van’s driver slammed on his brakes and hit the horn. Jack put his car in park, killed the engine, and climbed out of the vehicle. He looked around and saw that Ssabra Onih had already crossed the street and was heading away from him.
“What the hell are you doing?” The driver’s door of the mini van popped open and a tall, well-dressed, slightly overweight man climbed out. “You son of a bitch, you saw I was trying to back into that space.”
Jack shrugged and half smiled. “Sorry. You snooze, you loose.”
The big man’s face went beet red with anger. “You son of a bitch. I’ll call the fucking cops on you.”
Jack grinned, pulling out his badge and displaying it. “You go ahead and call the cops. While you’re at it, you might want to also call your lawyer. I’m on official police business, and if you call me a son of a bitch once more I’ll lock your ass up for public profanity and threats against a police officer. Any questions?”
The big man stopped, not sure what to make of the situation. “That’s not a real badge.”
“Oh, it’s a real badge.” Jack reached under his jacket and slipped his handcuffs out of the leather case on his belt. “And these are real handcuffs.” He dangled the cuffs so they could be seen. “I also have a real gun, but I’m hoping I won’t be needing that tonight. Cause if I have to pull my gun, then you’re going to jail. Or maybe to the hospital. Now, I suggest you climb back in your vehicle, and find yourself another parking spot.”
The ma
n stared at the detective for another moment, made a sputtering sound that might have been a curse word, then climbed back into his van and drove away. Jack would have enjoyed the moment, might even have laughed out loud, but Ssabra Onih was already halfway down the street and about to disappear from view. Slipping badge and handcuffs into his jacket pocket, he hurried after her.
If Miss Onih was late for an urgent meeting, as she claimed, then she was taking her sweet time about getting there. She moved at a slow pace down the sidewalk along Avenida Menendez, turning left on Cuna Street. Occasionally she would stop to study the book she carried, as if looking up a particular address.
“What are you up to, lady?” Jack stayed back, far enough to blend in with the crowd without losing sight of his quarry. But the path she took was through some of the quieter sections of the old city, down narrow streets and alleyways where few tourists traveled. Soon it was only the two of them on the street, and the detective knew he might be spotted if Ssabra was to turn around. Luckily, it was already getting dark, and there were few streetlights along the avenues they walked.
They had just turned onto an unlit narrow side street, passing a deserted lot overgrown with weeds, when he suddenly realized that Miss Onih was no longer alone. A man now followed about twenty feet behind the young woman, moving along at a pace matching hers.
Where did he come from?
The man must have come out of the deserted lot. Perhaps he was lurking there in the darkness, or he might have been using the lot as a short cut from one street to another, and just happened to appear as Ssabra was walking past. His sudden appearance behind the woman could be perfectly innocent, but Jack had been a detective long enough to suspect the worse in people. And right then, he was thinking that the man following Miss Onih was up to no good.
The man might be a robber, or a rapist. One thing for sure, he moved with too much grace to be a drunken tourist. He also moved at a pace that matched Ssabra’s, stopping when she did, and keeping to the left side of the street where the shadows lay heaviest.
Knowing his plans for secretly trailing Miss Onih were about to be dashed to the winds, Jack decided to make the first move. Wanting to run a little interference on the stalker, he quickened his pace. The man was so intent on watching the woman he followed, he never heard the detective until he was right behind him.
Not wanting Ssabra to know he had been following her, Jack spoke in a low voice to keep from being overheard, “Okay, buddy. That’s far enough. I think we need to have ourselves a little talk.”
The stalker spun around, startled to find someone behind him. The detective already had his badge out, and had one hand on his holstered automatic.
Jack’s eyes must have played a trick on him, because, for a split a second, it appeared as if the man changed shapes as he turned, his features blurring and then becoming clear again.
The detective blinked and shook his head. What he had seen, or what he thought he saw, was probably nothing more than a trick of the eyes. Even though it was rather dark where they stood, there was still enough light to clearly see the man he had stopped. He was Caucasian, about six feet tall, with sandy brown hair and a full beard. He was dressed in blue jeans, boots, denim jacket, and an unbuttoned black shirt. The man’s features seemed vaguely familiar, and Jack wondered where he had seen him before.
The man took a step back, apparently trying to read Jack’s badge. As he moved, his shirt opened to reveal a dark tattoo on the left side of his chest: a tribal image of a turtle. It was the same tattoo that had been on one of the pieces of human skin in the Dumpster behind the Old Drugstore.
Jack glanced at the tattoo, then looked back up at the man’s face, realizing his features were identical to the face found at the second crime scene. Same colored beard, same wide nose and heavy lips. Hell, the guy even had the same fucking tattoo. He was damn near a perfect match for the remains they had found.
A twin brother? A member of the same gang? Or maybe this guy just goes around shedding his skin from time to time.
Detective Colvin was about to ask for the stalker’s identification, when he happened to catch a glimpse of the building to his right. Housed in the building was a gift shop that sold antiques and collectibles, some of which were displayed in a large window. The building was closed for the night, its interior dark and the OPEN sign unlit, but he could still see his reflection in the glass. He could also see the reflection of the man standing before him. Or rather, he could see the reflection of the monster standing before him, because what he saw in the window was anything but human.
Instead of a bearded man, dressed in jeans, boots, and a jacket, Jack saw a shimmering black blob with long tentacles, a creature made of smoke whose shape and appearance constantly changed. The image in the mirror was a nightmare beyond words, causing the skin at his temples to pull tight.
The man standing before him also turned his head and looked at the window, seeing what Jack was staring at. He saw the reflection and smiled, then he lunged at the detective.
“Son of a bitch!”
Jack went down hard, a mass of twisting blackness on top of him. He was no longer facing a man. Instead, he was fighting a creature that must have been spewed from the very bowels of hell. A misshapen thing, multilegged, with long ropelike tentacles, more spider than human.
The detective tried to get free, but a tentacle wrapped around his throat and squeezed tight. He heard a strange clacking sound and was terrified to see a large beaked mouth only inches from his face. The beak was opening and closing, the creature attempting to get close enough to bite him. Knowing that serious injury, and perhaps even death, was only moments away, he managed to draw his pistol from its holster and fire a single shot.
The gunshot startled her. It was loud and close, and might have come from the next street over. It most cities the sound of gunfire would be cause for alarm, but that wasn’t always the case in St. Augustine. Historical reenactments were held quite often in the old city, everything from Drake’s pirate invasion to the British Night Watch, so the sound of flintlock rifles and pistols being fired, or the booming roar of an old cannon, was not uncommon.
Ssabra didn’t know of any historical events scheduled to take place that night, but someone might have decided to put on a show at the last minute. Curious if some kind of pageantry was indeed taking place, she turned and started in the direction of the shot.
She had only taken a few steps, however, when a feeling of icy numbness came over her. It was the same sensation she had experienced earlier in the day, a feeling that Tolomato said was caused by evil. Ssabra froze and looked around, but she was alone in the alley.
Where was Tolomato? She did not see the Indian spirit anywhere. Nor had she heard his voice since starting out on foot to look for the place where the offspring might be buried. That was just like him, never around when she needed him most.
Damnit, Tolomato. Where are you? And what is causing this feeling?
The icy sensation continued to grow, bringing with it a painful throbbing behind her eyes. She blinked and shook her head, but the pain did not go away. Whatever was causing the feeling had to be close, too close for comfort.
Ssabra was suddenly aware of just how alone she was, and how dark it had already gotten. Night had descended over the area without her notice, her attention completely occupied with her search for the offspring. It wasn’t safe being out by herself at night, especially with a dark god on the loose.
Damn, you’re an idiot. What were you thinking? You should have waited until morning to start the search.
If there was evil nearby, then she sure as hell didn’t want to face it on her own. And if that evil happened to be the Shiru, then she wanted to have as many people around her as possible for protection.
Deciding that a group of historical reenactors might provide some level of safety, even if there guns were only loaded with black powder and no bullets, Ssabra hurried toward the noise coming from the next street. A few more steps
brought her to the intersection of two narrow alleyways.
She hurried around the corner only to stop dead in her tracks, horrified by the sight before her. There were no reenactors dressed in historical military costumes. No Spanish soldiers, British troops, or bloodthirsty pirates. There weren’t even any buckskinners, with their greasy leathers and tattered furs. There was only one man, and he was on his back in the middle of the alley, fighting for his life.
It wasn’t muggers or bad guys the man did battle with. No one was trying to rob him, beat him up, or settle an old score. On the contrary, on top of the man was something far worse than mere criminals, a hideous creature that looked like a giant black octopus. Or maybe a spider.
The octopus-spider thing was obviously winning the fight, dozens of long black tentacles wrapping around the poor man trapped beneath it. The man held a pistol in his right hand, but he was having a hard time aiming it for another shot.
It only took a moment for Ssabra to realize that the thing in the alley was the Shiru. It was the same monster she and Tolomato had been looking for, the creature of darkness whose very presence sent waves of cold shooting through her body.
Here was the beast Tolomato was convinced they could destroy, but how on earth could they hope to defeat such a monster? It was bigger and stronger than what she had imagined. Just seeing the Shiru in its true form caused her to go numb with fear, and nearly sent her running in the opposite direction. Had it not been for the man trapped beneath the monster, she would have fled for her life.
As she stood there, the man turned his face toward her and mouthed a silent cry for help. There was something compelling about the look of terror in his eyes, like a kitten trapped in the topmost branches of a high oak tree. There was also something familiar about his face, as if she had seen him somewhere before.
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