I sat and directed the dogs to do the same. It was almost funny how Rob loosened up once he started lecturing about his favorite topic. In short order, he was demonstrating how to operate each of the contraptions he chose for me and giving Fluffy a chin scratching as he spoke. The light caught the round lenses of his glasses, and I smiled. Despite his nerves, he obviously knew what he was talking about. It was reassuring. Failure, as they say, was not an option.
Twenty minutes later, the dogs and I escorted Rob from his house as he carried the cardboard carton full of my supplies. He insisted he would carry it, and I didn’t have the heart to tell him I could probably have lifted the box with ease; perhaps easier than him.
I climbed into the Ford with the package in the back seat. Bart sat next to it, sniffing casually at the contents while Fluffy sat on the floorboards, head resting on the seat. Rob stood next to the car, hands on his hips.
“If you have any questions, give me a call,” he told me.
“Thank you, thanks for everything,” I replied. “And I’ll call you if I need to.” I was silent for a beat. I knew Kurt would have asked for confidentiality from Rob, but I wanted him to realize the seriousness of it. “And Rob, like I told you before, make sure you don’t say anything about my visit to anyone else. I can’t even explain to you how critical this is.”
He nodded earnestly, and I hoped he would obey. Mentioning my visit to the wrong person wouldn’t just put me in danger. I knew from personal history any associations I made with others could put them at risk. David, a reporter who wanted nothing more than to help me expose the dark plan my father and the Church of the Light Reclaimed cooked up, ended up losing his life because of his contact with me. An assassin shoved an ice pick into his brain, killing him instantly. It still haunted me, seeing him die over and over in my mind. I had seen more than my fair share of death since, but his still plagued me the most. I led him into it and essentially caused his death. It wasn’t something I would forget, and I didn’t want Rob to be trapped in the crossfire like David. The goons my father sent to locate me took David out instead, killed him as easily as if he carried no worth at all.
“You might call Kurt,” I told Rob as I put the car into gear. The window was open, letting in the muggy Florida breeze. “Let him know what we worked on.”
“Kurt, yeah, sure, I’ll call him,” Rob agreed.
I nodded. Kurt would add to my warning for Rob to keep his mouth shut, I was certain. Kurt almost lost his own life before I was shot and knew the deadly intent of our enemies.
Chapter Three
It was several hours later when I skirted around Tampa’s city limits, following I-75 into Valdosta, a city a tad inside the Georgia state line. I found a nondescript motel to settle for the night. I didn’t mention my two canine companions. They would be perfect gentlemen, and I didn’t want to deal with any complaints from the management. I parked around the side adjacent to my room and guided the dogs inside quickly and quietly.
I carried the box into the room with me and shut and locked the door. The dogs settled as they did before, taking one double bed for their own. I smiled wryly. I put the package on the little wooden table past its prime and pulled out the laptop computer. I lifted the lid and with a whir of a fan, the screen lit up. I connected the computer to my phone’s WIFI and pulled up my email. There were only two messages. One was from Kurt, sharing an address with me where I planned to go the following day, and a brief note from Alex. She wanted me to call. I grimaced. Alex was one of my best and oldest friends, but she was also eager to help me. She nagged me repeatedly to keep her informed about what was going on after she found out about my father’s death. She knew my father, despite having a sterling reputation for being a straight-laced politician, was heading down an extremely dark path, but I didn’t elaborate. I didn’t want to get her involved any more than she was as an associate of mine from the past. If the Church of the Light Reclaimed made her a target, I would never forgive myself.
I suspected this time she wasn’t going to be easily dissuaded. “I’m running out to get dinner,” I told the two dogs. “You stick around here and behave.”
I returned to my rental and drove to a nearby fast food joint, grabbing a couple of burgers to add as a treat for my canine companions, and a slightly wilted salad for myself. I ate hamburgers at times, but my extensive recuperation included a change in diet, and despite my weight loss, the nuns were particularly attentive about what I was allowed to eat. I hesitated and added a grilled chicken sandwich to my order. I needed the protein.
When I returned to my room, the dogs greeted me joyfully. I shushed them and took the food to the table. I left my cell phone for my short errand, so I was surprised to notice another email came through in my absence. Oh Lord, the nuns have found the internet.
I was nearing Atlanta on my way north when Alex convinced me to drop by and visit with her. I hesitated to even see her, but at her insistence, I traveled to her home. She lived in a rental, a quaint cottage on the northern outskirts of Atlanta, far enough from the big city to appear rural, but close enough to the sizable metropolis to appreciate the cultural and social buzz.
I visited her home many times, after we finished college, and Alex entered medical school. We both graduated with honors from the boarding school where we met and continued together to a private university near Cincinnati. It wasn’t a big college, but it was located adjacent to easily accessible fun, and it was a good four years for both of us. I avoided my father, who paid my tuition without challenge. I realized by then he was getting deeper and deeper into the bizarre religion he claimed was bringing him success. Despite the fact he forbade me to discuss it with anyone, I told Alex about it. It never occurred to me in my wildest imagination that my father had made a contract with the Devil. It was deranged. It was unheard of. It was true.
After boarding school, Alex moved south to attend Emory University where a scholarship allowed her to study medicine. I started working for my father but continued to visit my best friend as regularly as I could.
Now, as I pulled the rental car into the driveway, I was pleased to observe the little house was still as charming as ever, a tidy front lawn adorned with heat loving flowers of crimson, gold, and pink. I hesitated and glanced at my companions. I hadn’t yet figured out what I was going to do about Fluffy and Bart, but for now, they were my responsibility. I wondered if someone in Kentucky would be amenable to take them on. I wasn’t sure when I made the determination to return to Louisville, but I thought I needed to talk to Brother Joshua. Joshua was Victor’s version of Nick Fury, telling him where to go and whom to take out. There were some questions I would demand answers to, and since he was the closest thing I had to a connection with the abbey, short of calling on the nuns, I wanted to see him. As for the dogs, I was positive Alex would put up with them for now.
I grabbed up the leashes and guided the dobies ahead of me toward the door. In the previous two days, I suspected I may have introduced many bad habits to my colleagues.
The door opened before I made it to the porch, and Alex sprang out of the doorway. She launched herself at me and caught me up in a squealing hug, and for a precious moment, I felt like a teenage girl again.
“Sammy, you look gorgeous!” She exclaimed, dancing back to look at me.
“Um, yeah, in my jeans and tee, I’m certainly making a statement,” I muttered.
But she had already lost interest in me and was looking with utter infatuation at the dogs.
“And who is this?” she demanded, grinning.
“This is Bart,” I replied pointing to the dog who was almost quivering with elation at my side, “and Fluffy is over here.” Both dogs were looking worshipfully up at Alex.
“Fluffy?” She wrinkled her pert nose with bewilderment, her blue eyes squinting. “He’s not exactly fluffy.”
“No, I know,” I stopped, wavering over the details. “Um, he came from another house, but they gave them ridiculous names, so I change
d them.”
“Did you adopt them?” Alex looked totally baffled, and I didn’t blame her. I hadn’t seen her, talked to her, in almost six months. Now, I was coming out of nowhere with two full grown Dobermans and no explanation.
“The people that owned them,” I wavered, looking at my old friend. “They were bad news, Alex. I sort of took them.”
“Took? You mean stole?” Alex’s blue eyes widened and the golden curls that haloed her face shivered.
“Trust me, these aren’t the kind of people to go to the cops. And they won’t come after me either. Two missing guard dogs are the least of their problems.”
“Guard dogs,” Alex caught Bart’s face in her two hands, studying his deep brown eyes. “They don’t look like any trained guard dogs.”
“They were trained,” I answered evasively, “only not well.” I leaned over to rub Fluffy’ s ears. “So, I’m going to try to find them a new home.”
“And the person you took them from?”
“Don’t worry about him,” I said, the chill in my voice surprising even me. I evaded her inquisitive expression, the arched eyebrows that preceded a barrage of questions, and turned away. I didn’t want to explain further. There were parts of my life I didn’t tell Alex about. I knew in theory why. I needed the separation. I needed the break from who I had been to who I had become. Alex was from the days when I was ordinary, rational, protected.
Alex’s eyes focused more sharply on me. “Sam, maybe we need to talk.”
I exhaled a sigh. I realized she wouldn’t be appeased with half a story. “Let’s go inside,” I told her.
We ordered pizza, and Alex broke out the wine. We avoided the big topics, what I was doing in Florida, what all transpired after my father died, why I fell off the face of the earth for six months. She reproached me mildly for my absence, but I could tell she was treading delicately. After all this time, Alex knew me.
Halfway through the bottle of wine, I confessed.
“Alex, that Church my dad was in,” I ran a finger down the side of the mason jar Alex called a wineglass, “it was evil. Not the show of evil, but the actual thing. These crazy, disturbed people surrounded him. Truly. And it changed him.” I felt tears fill my eyes, tears for the man my father had once been, not the individual he was when he died. The alcohol was making me soft, a good reason why I didn’t often drink.
“Were they real Satanists?” Alex was examining me, her eyes a little hazy with wine, tipsy perhaps, but certainly not drunk.
“Really real,” I answered. “As real as they get. And Alex, I can tell you for sure Satan is alive and well.”
“Oh,” Alex breathed. She seemed at a loss for words.
I switched the topic, not wanting to explain my up close and personal introduction to evil. “I found out they were planning on killing children. My father’s church was going to kill innocent children in Christian schools and blame it on the Muslims. It would be the start of a holy war.” I took a sharp breath, then a mouthful of wine, swallowing rapidly. “So, I stopped them,” I stated frankly. “I took their money.” I grinned victoriously, the wine creating a pleasant sensation in my brain, recalling the stroke of genius that led me to cripple the church so critically.
“Really? You stopped them?” Alex’s eyes were suitably wide, making me feel a little better. It seemed like forever since I felt like I could talk to someone about my life, tell someone who knew me before, prior to the disaster.
“Not by myself, but yeah, we stopped them.” I was mute for a time, the rugged visage of Vic floating into my woozy consciousness. “We stopped them that time,” I whispered, almost to myself.
“And then?”
I felt my heart wrench. “I didn’t exactly get away.” My eyes traveled down to my glass, and I snatched it up and consumed the rest of the cheap red wine. “I was captured by one of the leaders of the church,” I said, not knowing how else to describe the strange relationship between Vic’s brother Mikey, who most assuredly was operating as Satan’s right-hand man, and the rest of the organization.
“Oh, Sam, no,” her small hands reached out, and she clutched my arm.
“It’s all right,” I lied. I didn’t want to discuss it. I didn’t want to discuss it, not with Alex, whom I loved like a sister, and not with anyone. I did tell the nuns at the abbey out of necessity. Even I could not conquer the memories without help. But I would tell no one else. Not if I could help it. “Some of my friends got me out.” The recollection of the rescue, one that went so wrong with the blast which sent my car into the water, made my breath catch. The automobile sank with me trapped within, and in the green twilight, I saw my life unreel like a bad movie in my mind. I drowned. I died. I drew in a lengthy gasp and shook my head to escape from the images. “After all of that, I needed some time to recuperate.” I skipped the part where a Watcher, a fallen angel, took over my body; the part where I became trapped with no command of my words or actions; the part where the man I loved shot me to force the angel flee to another host.
“And now?” Alex poured a helping of sweet wine into my jar.
I gazed into her eyes, a little too sober despite the alcohol. “And now I’m going after the men who kidnapped me.”
We stayed the night, the snoring dobies and me, laying together in the living room, me on the couch, the two dogs stretched out on throw rugs tossed over weathered wood flooring. The wine was a mistake on my part; it loosened my tongue and dulled my edges. I revealed too much, and I exposed both my friend and me to danger. I was fortunate to have my backup with me. No matter how gentle the hounds became, they would still alert me to any attackers before my ears could ever pick up anything. Not for the first time, I was grateful I brought them along.
I woke at daybreak with only a sliver of a headache. The dreams were not as bad as the night before. Perhaps acting deadened them a little. I took the dogs out for a short sprint, letting my muscles warm and the last of the evening’s fog clear from my brain. It was an hour before I was back, and Alex, who generally preferred to sleep until nine, was up in the kitchen with coffee on.
When I entered, she grinned at me.
“The coffee is ready when you are. And I have oatmeal. I know it used to be your favorite.”
I smiled back. “Thanks, Al. I’m going to take a quick shower, okay?”
“Sure, the towels are in the closet, and there’s shampoo and soap in the shower.” The dogs ran over to greet my friend, and I unhooked the leashes. “Do you have food for these babies?”
“There’s a bag in the back seat of my car,” I told her. “I’ll get it when I’m done.”
I strolled down the hallway, feeling as close to happy as I had in a long while.
After I showered and dressed in clean, if slightly rumpled clothes, I returned to the kitchen and froze in dismay. The dogs were devouring their kibble from china dishes set on the floor and a huge mixing bowl filled with water was set between them. They peered at me when I came in, and then their eyes rolled to look at Alex where she was poised next to the table. On the wooden top was my case, and the clasps were opened, exposing the long sword inside, my katana. It was clean; I never kept a dirty weapon, but the sharp edges were brutal in the sunlight.
“You have a sword,” Alex declared, suspicion in her voice.
“It’s a katana,” I corrected. “It’s a Japanese warrior’s weapon. They have been used for hundreds of years.” I looked at the sword with a sort of fondness. “They're a single-edged weapon, always with a curved blade, meant to draw and strike with a single motion.”
Alex’s eyes flew to my face, studying my expression.
“You know how to use this,” she said, a statement, not a question.
“I do,” I replied. The dogs made a little whine, and I turned to pour myself some coffee. I knew how Alex found my weapon. I purposely left it on the passenger seat of my car when I arrived the night before. I always preferred it on hand if I needed it. The question wasn’t how she found it, but why
she opened it and brought it inside.
“I went out to get the dog food,” Alex said, almost as though she was reading my expression. “I found your keys and thought I might bring in your things from the car. I hoped you might agree to stay another night or two. I enjoyed talking last night.” She wrapped her hands around the mug. “When I saw the case, I brought it in with the rest.”
I followed her gaze and saw that the box with the computer and other electronics was on the far side of the kitchen counter.
I added a dollop of cream and a heaping spoon of sugar to my coffee. I needed the energy. I dropped to the seat opposite her.
“Sam, I wasn’t trying to be nosy, but I can see by your face this is more than just a collectable,” she said staring at me soberly.
“I told you I was out to beat these people,” I replied adding a bit of honesty.
“With a sword?” Her voice went a little sharp with the question.
“I’ll use whatever I need to, and the katana is necessary. These men, these evil people, have objects, weapons you could hardly think of in your worst nightmares. So yes, I use this and any other weapon that works against them.”
“Tell me,” she announced, leaning across the table, her face deadly serious.
“If I tell you too much, I’m putting you in danger. I can’t do that.”
“Sam, they kidnapped you. They hurt you. You’re a sister to me, and I want to help. I can help. Tell me.”
I blinked and took another swig of the coffee, feeling the caffeine from the dark roast hitting my system.
“Alex, if I tell you what I’ve seen, your life is never going to be the same.”
“You said these people were trying to start a holy war. If they have plans like that, and are successful, my life wouldn’t be the same anyway.” She reached out and tapped the sword case. “Besides, maybe I’m safer with you.”
Vengeance (A Samantha Tyler Thriller Book 1) Page 4