Vengeance (A Samantha Tyler Thriller Book 1)

by Rachael Rawlings

  Abe strolled into view, his pistol held out before him.

  “Sorry to interrupt, but I figured we didn’t have time for small talk.”

  I frowned. “I wanted to talk to him,” I retorted.

  “I’m afraid there will be more,” he explained, and pointed toward the drive.

  There were two cars pulled in behind the Chevy. They must have showed up as we were searching the barn. I swiveled around, my eyes traveling from the uninhabited house to the battered body in front of us. The dogs were now on full alert, noses lifted, ears twitching with sounds only they could hear.

  “How many?”

  Abe shrugged. “Do you want to try to question one, or get out of here with what we have?”

  “Discretion is the better part of valor,” I attempted a quote. “It won’t do us much good if we’re dead.”

  “Agreed.”

  We stepped out together into the sunlight, the four of us. There was the possibility that whoever came to the house did so coincidentally, but I wasn’t going to rely on it. They certainly didn’t bring our murdering friend who now lay crumpled in the barn doorway. The evidence was all over him assuring us he was Gerrard’s executioner and enjoyed it. Did he come and act alone? Or was there another raving lunatic with a knife running around? Whichever, he beat us here, since we hadn’t seen a car when we arrived.

  I stayed still, struggling to sense if there was anything otherworldly around us. Human bad guys were one thing; Infernal Lords were another. One could be matched with strength and skill. The other, not so much. And that wasn’t counting the new member of the demon class, if that was indeed what Roberts appeared to be.

  I didn’t feel anything. These murderers were your garden variety freaks of the human persuasion. I went out the door, Abe at my back, both of us sticking close to the barn as we edged our way to the car. We couldn’t back out of the drive, the two vehicles were pulled up to trap us in, however, I didn’t have any problem going cross country. If we could reach the car and elude any bullets, we would be home free. Maybe.

  We were facing the car when the attack came. I heard Abe let out a grunt and spun around to watch an exceedingly large man with frying pan hands explode from tall shrubs at the side of the house. He knocked Abe’s gun from his hand and wrapped his fingers around Abe’s neck. Abe clawed at the other man’s hold, trying to break his grip. I drew up the katana and pointed it in the man’s direction. The dogs were lunging, but I made a sharp gesture, and they backed off. I didn’t want to risk running one of them through if I needed to go after this guy.

  “Let him go, or you die” I demanded, not surprised as the man edged Abe in front of him.

  “Nice little sword,” he declared, a ghastly smile on his broad features.

  I heard a wheezing sound from Abe. His hands slipped from trying to break the hold, and he was working to reach behind him, no doubt trying for his backup weapon, but I knew he was weakening.

  “I have more than a sword,” I answered, my eyes on the man’s face. “Let him go.”

  The man’s eyes swiveled toward me, and I saw something sinister and distorted in the depths of his gaze.

  “No,” he said through a smirk.

  I made another quick gesture with my weapon, and as the bad guy was fixated on the katana, spoke a command to the dogs.

  They hit the behemoth, going for exposed skin with amazing accuracy. Teeth went into flesh, striking the soft vulnerable parts, and the man dropped Abe, his fists flailing for the dogs. Fluffy hamstringed him and he went down. The moment he hit the ground, Bart ripped out his throat as the man screamed.

  Abe dropped to the floor, but then rose quickly. He looked a little blue around his lips, and I suspected his body was moving on automatic. He snatched up his weapon, his breath coming in gasps.

  I heard it then, the pounding of many feet in the distance. We already put two men down, but there was no way to know how many might be coming. Abe was not at his best. I seized his arm, tugging him along as I ran, my eyes scanning the area. Over my shoulder, I called to the dogs, and they swung on a dime, leaving the man writhing on the ground.

  A slam of a door at the house drew my eyes back to the building, and I urged Abe to run faster. Two men were running down the porch in our direction. As soon as we reached the car, Abe emptied his gun, firing wildly. It did the trick, sending the men diving for cover. He yanked open the front passenger door and sagged inside. The dogs hopped gracefully over him, climbing into the backseat with satisfied doggy grins, blood coating their muzzles. I slipped in the driver’s side, my breath coming fast.

  “Keys, keys,” I said urgently, and Abe dug in his pockets, pulling out the single key on a ring, and thrusting it in my hands. I shoved it into the ignition, and threw the vehicle into reverse, slamming into the sedan behind me and shoving it backwards several feet. Then I shifted it into drive. Gravel and grass sprayed from the spinning tires, and we were off, bumping over the stubby grass before gaining traction on the drive. I didn’t pause, hitting the road without slowing. There was no traffic. There weren’t enough people who traveled the road to make the risk very high. I glanced toward my rearview mirror. I didn’t see anyone following. I stepped on the gas, feeling the car leap forward, not bad for an older vehicle. I kept up the speed until we reached the outer suburbs of Louisville, slowing and then exiting the interstate. I pulled off the road at a Thortons gas station, my eyes scanning the road for any familiar cars.

  “I don’t think they followed,” Abe declared, his voice like rusty metal.

  “I don’t see them, but I don’t want to lead them home.” I glanced over at Abe. He was regaining some of his healthy color, but I knew he would be bruised. He buckled himself in, and his eyes held the usual alert attention. “Are you okay?” I asked.

  “Fine,” his eyes cut to me and then back to the road. “Thank you for taking care of that guy. He was a shade faster than I would have thought possible.”

  “No problem,” I replied, giving him a curt bow. “Thanks for taking out the bloody creep.”

  “It was a fascinating little exchange.”

  “That would be one way to put it.”

  “And I suppose your lead about this Gerrard person has come to a messy end.”

  “Looks like,” I conceded. “I’ll go through some of these papers, but I don’t know what I’ll find.”

  “If you need any further assistance, be sure to look me up.” I peered over at him. He was smiling. I shook my head. Heaven save me from crazies and do-gooders.

  I suffered nightmares that night. Not a huge surprise when you’ve come across a body hung like a side of beef from a huge meat hook in the ceiling. As I rolled over in bed, I became conscious of soft sounds coming from the living room. I wasn’t alarmed. Sister Evangeline was praying, her schedule unchanged from when she lived at the abbey. I felt a curious kind of comfort in her routine; her prayers easing into my mind, recalling the gentle chanting of Latin. I envisioned the nuns, lined up in their starched habits, their voices a gentle lulling chant, calling upon a God they saw with such clarity. I couldn’t pray myself, but the words helped ease the anxiety.

  “Accuracy is in the mind,” Sister Evangeline was saying, her hands gripping the knife by the blade, arm raised. “Prayer helps the mind. When we focus on the Lord, we concentrate on the good and the pure. It guides our hands.”

  I blinked. Since we started knife training, I stayed in almost constant wonderment. Unlike the many self-defense classes I took in the past, these women maintained the mind was first, the soul was fundamental, the body a remote third.

  “Mixing your God and violence seems a little odd,” I retorted. “What happened to turn the other cheek?”

  She eyed me over her shoulder. The knife flew from her fingers, flipping gracefully in the air, striking the target with such precision I shivered.

  “My enemies,” she said gravely, “our enemies are not of this earth. They are not our neighbors. They are beasts of the dark
. And I spare them no compassion.”

  She turned, folding her hands in front of her over the darkness of her robe.

  “Let us pray,” she said firmly.

  The memory of the nun warrior filled my mind, and I slept.

  The next morning, I rose and was unsurprised to have a message from Abe. He called Sister Eva to report he was doing well and would be at my service if needed. I shook my head. These people were relentless.

  After breakfast, toast and eggs prepared by Sister Eva, I sat at the computer. I had a limited time to listen into Lockley’s office using the clever device Rob provided, and since Gerrard was such a dead end, I needed to find something I could use. The trail, such as it was, was growing cold and the one person, thing, I didn’t want to run into again was uppermost in my mind. If there were no further leads, I might have to chase down Paul Roberts. I wanted to meet up with him again, when the playing fields were even and I was back to full strength, but I didn’t want to just fight him. I needed to kill him, and to do that, I needed to have a plan. He wasn’t going to go down easy. He might be soulless, but he wasn’t brainless.

  I started up the computer, listening to the fan whir to life, and pulled out a pad of paper and a pen. Time to get working.

  Three hours later, I was still sitting in the same spot. I needed to use the bathroom, and the paper was halfway covered with doodles. When Alex came in, she chuckled.

  “You look like you used to when we were in social studies with Mrs. Matche,” she remarked. “You are bored out of your mind, aren’t you?”

  “Have you ever listened in on someone who deals in property? It must be a terrible job. It’s all square footage and utility bills. It’s no wonder Lockley hasn’t gone off and shot someone for the excitement.”

  “Some people like normal jobs,” my best friend said archly, her eyebrow lifting over her less swollen eye.

  “Your job couldn’t be called normal,” I retorted.

  “Mmm,” she said noncommittally. “Would you like me to take over for a few minutes? I can listen in as well as you can. Take the dogs for a walk or something.”

  I eagerly stood, never wanting a walk in the quiet suburban neighborhood so much as I did at that very moment.

  Alex slipped into my seat. She glanced at me, then waved her hands dismissively. “Come back in an hour or so and I’ll fill you in on what I hear.”

  I nodded, obedient, since this was exactly what I wanted. I ran to the bathroom, slipped on my walking shoes, and leashed the dogs. The weather was perfect for a walk, a little overcast with a smattering of clouds, cool and comfortable.

  I didn’t tell anyone I was going out. It wasn’t that I didn’t enjoy Sister Eva’s company. Quite the opposite. During her stay with me, I was getting to see a whole other side of the woman. She was actually charming and amusing when she wished to be. She could turn the charm on and off like a faucet. I knew from experience she wasn’t a woman to be crossed. Also, walking with her anywhere was bound to draw attention, due to the conspicuous habit, and I worried any unwanted attention would bring the representatives of the church to my neighborhood.

  I only needed a little more time.

  I took the dogs for a brisk walk, breaking into a light jog in some areas, enjoying the breeze on my face and the even pounding of my feet. My hip hardly made a twinge, and I was grateful for it.

  On my way back to the house, I kept a sharp eye out for anyone who might not belong in the area, searching for the potential observer behind every curtain. If we were found out, I saw no evidence of it.

  I slipped in the back door and let the dogs free. They immediately went into the living room and stretched out on the hardwood floor, long pink tongues drooping as they panted.

  “You’re getting out of shape,” I scolded them. It wasn’t exactly true. I watched them take out the man who attacked Abe with relative ease. They were still lethal if they needed to be. I strolled over to where Alex was sitting, her eyes screwed up thoughtfully, her hand moving fast across the paper, her familiar scrawl taking up almost half a page.

  “What?” I spoke in an undertone, but she didn’t glance toward me. She continued to write, her focus on the page and the words only she could hear. I heard the soft footsteps of rubber soles and looked up to see Sister Evangeline. She drew up next to me, her gaze going to the paper. She looked toward me, her glasses catching a glint of sunlight, and she lifted her eyebrows in a mute query.

  I shrugged. I had no idea what Alex was recording, but I was willing to wait. The writing was tracing all over the page, short notes with initials, a doctor’s scrawl Alex perfected since graduation from med school.

  Alex gave a curt nod and lowered the headphones to her chest. “What did you get?” I forced myself to keep my tone even.

  “I’m not sure,” Alex began. “I don’t know if this was important or not. The call began in another room, so I never heard who he was talking to. He didn’t use the guy’s name. But I heard some other names, and,” she paused and bit her lip, “one of them was Rowan.”

  Chapter Eleven

  The name set me on fire, my nerves tense. Rowan. Finally. Sure, I recognized there was a slight possibility it was a different person. There was more than one Rowan in the world, I was confident. But I also knew one of them, someone by the same name, ordered my abduction, encouraged my torture, and demanded me taken down. They tried their best to reduce me to a shade of my former self, and nearly succeeded. Yes, I owed Rowan quite a lot.

  The conversation Lockley exchanged with his unknown partner was quite specific. From what details Alex could glean, Wheadon introduced Lockley to a representative of a landowner, a prosperous individual who Lockley described as having more money than God.

  Maybe it was true. If Rowan was who I suspected he was, he was the antithesis of Sister Eva’s God.

  The landowner, Rowan, required specialized prerequisites for the building. Lockley procured it for him but was having doubts. Any friend of Wheadon’s was bound to bring him trouble. I had to give Lockley a little credit. He learned a lot from dealing with Wheadon. If you lie with dogs, you get up with fleas, or more to the point, if you deal with Satanists, you end up with demons.

  But we now knew another address, and I was realizing my dealings with Lockley contributed an abundance of extremely significant information. I couldn’t pause to bask in the self-congratulations. I did have a monster to catch.

  “Where is this place?”

  Alex pulled up a Google earth photo of a decrepit building, the façade a drab stone, windows flanking a jutting sign with block lettering. I knew what it was, an old-fashioned movie theatre, but didn’t know there were any in our area.

  “It’s downtown according to Google,” Alex announced, her voice slightly abstracted. “It’s been shut down for years. The Domino.”

  I frowned. “I don’t remember ever seeing it,” I responded.

  “It’s not in the heart of downtown,” she answered, panning out of the shot to see the neighboring streets. “It’s on Market Street not far from Clay Street.”

  “Why would a bunch of Satanists need a defunct movie theatre?” I asked.

  “Why do they do anything they do? They must have some use for it.” She was still glowering at the screen. “Maybe it has more to do with the location then the actual building.”

  “And considering the neighborhood, it presumably came pretty cheap.”

  Alex glanced at me. “Now that you have the address, what do you plan to do with it?”

  “I’m going there.”

  Alex backed away from the computer, wincing a little when a movement jarred her shoulder. “Then we have plans to make.”

  I realized the theatre was a potential meeting location. I wasn’t crazy. But my resources were limited.

  “I can slip in at night and look around. I’m positive I can get in and out without anyone seeing me,” I pointed out, my eyes traveling to my two companions.

  Alex closed the computer and pla
ced her folded hands on the top. Sister Evangeline sat next to her, her face inscrutable. I got the distinct impression they were talking about me.

  “We have made a decision. It would be reckless for you to go to the theatre alone.” Sister Eva looked at me, the light catching her glasses.

  “And who do you suppose should go with me?” I glanced at Alex. “You’re not well enough. If we needed to run,” I didn’t want to say anything more, but she was already nodding.

  “I’m the lookout,” she began. “And I will not be by myself.”

  I let my eyes slide to the nun who sat primly by my friend. “You’ll be with her?”

  “No, my dear,” she considered me candidly, and I could see her gaze pin me. “I’ll be with you.”

  “I have some people from Atlanta I trust. They were patients at the clinic. They owe me.” Alex smiled her crooked grin. “I’ve already contacted them, and they said they would watch out for me.”

  “Who are these people?” I demanded, my voice snapping.

  “I’ll be honest, I doubt most of what they do, or what they used to do, was legal, but they’re loyal to me, and I know they can keep me safe. These are tough guys. They’ll have my back when you can’t.”

  “Alex, that sounds crazy,” I began.

  “We need someone we can trust. There is no way these guys have anything to do with the church or the government. They are willing to help me, and I’m positive we need them.”

  I groaned and dropped my head on my hands. Now Alex would be my lookout with one or maybe more criminals watching her back. And my partner in the break in would be, who?

  “What about you?” I asked Sister Eva directly.

  “I will accompany you, and before you make any comments about me slowing you down, keep in mind our training.”

  I grunted in response and a glimmer of recollection flashed through my mind.

  I wanted to rest. I was sweaty and tired; Sister Elsbeth had spent the last two hours working me over. I felt the soreness in my hip but welcomed it. I realized I was practically healed. I knew I was almost ready.