Vengeance (A Samantha Tyler Thriller Book 1)

by Rachael Rawlings

  “Then we can have our friends help us gather them. Best to take it with us.” Her eyes scanned the surroundings, her face a pale oval against the black veil.

  “I agree,” I answered, and we walked on until I saw the car. Two dark shapes slipped to the side of the car, and a beam, harsh and blue white, was shined full in our faces.

  “Hey, hey,” a deep voice thundered. Then as the light bathed us, “Sorry ladies.”

  The beam was dropped, and I remained still for a moment, blinking away the blindness.

  “What happened?” This time it was Alex’s familiar voice.

  “He was there,” I told her, “but he only wanted to talk,” I added hastily.

  “That low down son of a,” she stopped when she glanced at my companion. “Sorry Sister,” she added contritely.

  “He is a low down,” Sister Eva agreed. “And what have you discovered here?”

  My vision was clearing and I could see Alex standing next to three large men. Two showed skin the color of hot coco, the third a florid red face that occurred with too much time while working out in the sunlight rather than alcohol consumption.

  “It was all quiet,” Alex answered. “And I’m sorry, I haven’t introduced you to my friends.” She acknowledged the first man, the guy with the bass voice and gleaming bald skull. “This is Theodore.” She gestured to the man next to him, “And his brother John.” She glanced at the third man, his crimson face a little redder as she spoke, “And my best buddy Rod.”

  A murmur of Sister and Ma’am sounded from the men.

  “These three were great friends of mine while I worked at the clinic. They moved up here to Louisville six months ago, and when I realized we were going to be coming up here, I asked if they would help us.”

  “Doc Alex has always been good to us, especially when a buddy of mine was sh-uh, suffered an accident.”

  “I figured we could use some muscle for this job,” Alex said smiling.

  “Yeah, and when we saw her face.” Another round of grumbling while Theodore spoke over them, “We would have taken the, uh, guy’s head off.”

  The effort to clean up their speech for the benefit of the nun would have been funny if it wasn’t so endearing. Alex and I discussed how we would use our backup for the job. She already knew who she would call. When she mentioned she found three men to reinforce her, not just one, I was glad. All three men were raised in less than ideal circumstances and each experienced a stint in lockup. They were tough, but faithful, and I was delighted to have them on our side.

  “Well, we need to see what material we can pick up from the scene,” Sister Eva was suggesting.

  We swung back toward the building. I carried higher hopes now. I saw enough to know there was still evidence inside. Perhaps an address, a name, something that would lead me to the infamous Rowan before I gave up and walked into the trap with Roberts at my side. There was no doubt now Rowan was aware of me, as I was aware of him.

  The streetlights were clouded, and I could no longer hear the generator buzzing as I yanked open the front door. There was no welcoming light. All was dark. All was hushed.

  “You four go to the right, we’ll go to the left.” I pointed to Alex and her companions.

  Theodore stared at me doubtfully, and John was shaking his head.

  “Are you sure you don’t want one of us to go with you and,” Rod gave a nod toward Sister Eva, “the lady here?”

  “We’ll be fine,” I responded. I touched the handle of my katana where it hung by my side. “I’ve got this covered.”

  I watched him stare toward the weapon, eyebrows going up, and they headed for the other side of the counter. I plucked out my cell phone and switched on the flashlight, letting the harsh LED beam slice through the darkness. My feet were crunching over fragments of garbage, shards of glass from bottles, and scraps of paper. I watched carefully and was happy to see Sister Eva pull out a long heavy flashlight. I wondered if she kept it hidden up those long sleeves of hers, or if there was some hidden compartment in her robe which held an assortment of weapons and tools. Kind of like the nun’s version of a Batman utility belt.

  My light bounced around the dingy lobby, catching the moan and shutter of a door closing.

  “I think someone is in the women’s room,” I hissed to Sister Eva.

  Her glasses caught the light as she angled toward me. “I’ll be right behind you,” she responded.

  “You stay out here and guard the door,” I suggested. “I don’t want to go in and get ambushed.”

  She offered me a brusque nod and remained off to the side of the closed door. I gently opened the door, letting it close soundlessly behind me.

  In the restroom, I could see the vagrants hadn’t been kind. The place stunk of urine and age. The mirrors above the sinks were all shattered, the doors on the stalls hanging drunkenly from one hinge or flattened inside the stall, detached entirely from their frame.

  I heard a slight shift and snuffling noise from the far end of the room.

  “I hear you,” I declared. “Come out.”

  The sound was repeated, and I stepped cautiously past the first two stalls. I held the knife in one hand, and my phone held up to light my path. I chose not to pull the katana, realizing a thrown knife would give me some distance from the potential attacker.

  A small shape emerged from the enveloping gloom, peering around the edge of the stall, the face level with my midsection. As it drew further into the light of the cell phone, I realized it was a girl. She looked no more than six but might have been older. Her skin was tight, clinging to defined bones, her eyes dark wells.

  I held my breath. “Who are you?” I urged softly. Ah, but I knew.

  Somewhere in the depths of my mind, I recognized the face.

  The girl was silent, her face immobile, her posture hunched and fearful.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” I added, keeping my tone even. I thought about calling in Sister Eva but wasn’t sure if the sight of the nun in the full habit would be reassuring or intimidating to a child. “What’s your name?” I was hoping, praying I was mistaken, that this was wrong.

  She cocked her head like an animal hearing unfamiliar sounds. Her lips twitched. In my mind, my memories spun out like a loosened reel from an old movie, Maggie May, the sweetest girl in the second grade. She always wore her uniform skirt with natural grace, always with starched blouses, courtesy of a governess who virtually raised her from a baby. She was abandoned by parents too busy or too shallow to care for the precious child they created. But Maggie May didn’t care. She remained true and sweet and… My heart gave a flutter of apprehension in my rib cage. Maggie May was dead. I saw her pale face, her lips tinted blue, her eyes forever glassy and staring, moments after the asthma attack took her. She was the first, and the hardest death for me.

  She took a step closer to me, this child clone, her eyes narrowing, and I felt a surge of an undefinable sense of dread flood me, feeling wrong, so wrong.

  “I am Fear, drinker of souls,” she responded flatly, her voice heavy and ragged.

  I drew up the blade, keenly aware I wasn’t negotiating with a child, and no human. The girl thing reached out for me with hands grimy with dirt and fingernails red rimmed with wet blood. She advanced deliberately, certain her form would freeze me to the spot.

  I threw the knife in one swift motion, but her hand was up, and she plucked it out of the air like some kind of magic trick.

  “Let me taste you,” she hissed, the gravel still in her throat.

  “Not on your devil loving life,” I said tightly. My hand went to the katana, but before I could pull it free of the sheath, she was upon me. Her hands were sinking into my shirt, reaching for my throat. Her up tilted face was too close, her breath like dead things, rotting things. She smiled, and her teeth glistened, black in the sparse light.

  Her teeth clacked as she made a show of biting at me, and I grappled with her, trying to pull the hands away from me. I felt the rip of
her nails through my shirt and knew them to be unnaturally sharp to pierce my layers of clothing. She thrust her face closer to me, the click of her teeth loud. She was strong, too strong. My arms were shaking with the effort of keeping her face away from me, knowing with an odd certainty if she did bite me, something would forever change in me.

  “No,” I gasped out.

  “Écce Crúcem Dómini, fúgite pártes advérsae.” the voice thundered from behind me, loud and welcome. “Behold the Cross of the Lord, flee away ye hostile forces! Get thee back, evil one!”

  I couldn’t see Sister Eva, but the child demon could, and dropped her hands, dancing backward. Her face no longer resembled a human child. Her features melted and formed into a skull with scabby skin, bone-white showing through. Long malformed teeth seemed to crowd the mouth, and a black tongue protruded, snaking over ravaged lips.

  Sister Eva continued to approach, her arm held up, a metal cross, old and nicked, held in her grip. She was praying, a Latin mix so fast and low I couldn’t distinguish the words. I dragged out the katana, coming in behind the nun, hands ready.

  I saw Sister Eva grasp what looked like an army surplus canteen and thrust it toward the demon. With a shriek, the creature shrank from the spray of water, the stink of smoldering flesh and spoiled things making my eyes water. With a second toss of the blessed water, the demon sank to its knees. It seemed to liquefy then, the shape growing soft, then flattening, like the witch from the Wizard of Oz, melting until there was nothing there but the stench.

  I covered my nose and mouth with my shirt and rushed for the door. “We need to check on Alex,” I tossed behind me.

  My palm slapped the panel, and I was out in the lobby in a second, Sister Eva on my heels. She was still praying under her breath when I thrust open the door to the theater.

  I was in shock about what I encountered, but more fearful it would be going after Alex as well. I didn’t know what it was, but I appreciated it found an influence over me, drawn from my own mind. It took a memory, long buried and manipulated it.

  What miseries could it drudge up from Alex’s life?

  We saw the massive shapes of the men first. They were standing over some boxes, glancing inside at their contents. My eyes were skimming the area, searching for anything amiss, anything that looked dangerous. My whole world was feeling off. I felt as though there was not just one person walking over my grave, but a legion of them.

  “We need to get out of here,” Sister Evangeline said, her tone resolute, her speech thickly accented. She was disturbed. I could hear the inflection in her voice. Whatever I was feeling, she was as well.

  “Alex,” I began.

  I saw Alex at the front of the hall and she was standing adjacent to the stage.

  “Sammy,” she announced, her voice remote. “I think I smell something.”

  I felt a shudder and glanced at Sister Eva.

  “We’ve got to go. Now!” My voice carried a command, but the edge of fear was there. The three men looked toward me, and I gave a gesture. They each grabbed a box and moved in sync, obedient when they caught my expression. Sister Eva led the way back down the aisle, and I paused to let the men go in front of me. When we arrived at the door to the lobby, Sister Eva paused and seized the door. It didn’t budge.

  “It appears someone has locked us in,” she said.

  “I’ve got it,” Theodore said gruffly, gently nudging the nun out of the way. While not as tall as Victor’s six-foot-six frame, he was almost as large, and without setting down his box, he raised a booted foot and kicked the door hard. It splintered into a dozen pieces. He pushed the broken door open and waved us through.

  The rest of us charged out, with Theodore close behind us. Go, go! A small voice in my mind was urging me on, and I took the lead, forcing them to follow further from the building.

  We went only a few yards when an odd sound made me pause, a deep whoomph which made the ground tremble. I reached out, grabbing for the nearest body, feeling the fabric of Alex’s sleeve seconds before the world in front of me exploded in a wall of flame.

  Chapter Twelve

  As it turns out, even after being hurled to the ground with the concussion of an explosion, getting to your feet, the ringing an insistent bell inside your skull, you still have time to flee the scene before the authorities get on site. It was tempting to sit there, the pavement beneath us still warm from the dying sun, while we observed the flames shoot higher into the vivid blue-black sky. Considering I didn’t want to be on the receiving end of the questions that were bound to be asked if we stayed where we were and I knew we needed to go.

  I glanced around me. Alex landed close to me, but despite the blast, she looked no worse than she did when we arrived except for the fine gray ashes which were falling like snowflakes on her shoulders.

  Her three large companions were staring wide-eyed at the building. No doubt they were thinking the same thing I was; we were inside the place only moments before. Timing, and nothing else, spared us. I wondered if they saw their lives pass before their eyes, if each was reasoning about what they were required to do to achieve paradise. I almost wished I felt the same way.

  I gradually rose to my feet and noticed Sister Eva was already standing. I suffered an abrupt flare of vision; the nun standing tall while the flames and heat licked around her, impervious to the conflagration.

  Surely, she was thrown to the ground like the rest of us?

  “Are you all right?” I asked her, hearing the muffled voice coming from my throat, unsure if it was because I was choked with ash and heated air or my ears were temporarily deadened.

  “I am fine,” she replied, her face reflecting calm. I blinked. She looked okay, her glasses now mirroring the orange and yellow of the flames.

  Alex’s companion, Rod, leaned over and gently helped Alex up. Wordlessly, I reached out and linked her arm with mine. I had once more risked her life. I felt my stomach turn over as I thought about how close to death we had both come.

  “I guess we need to go,” Rod muttered. All three men picked up the crates they dropped during the explosion, and we began to limp away from the scene, the far-off screams of the sirens sounding in our ears. I took a final glance as I clambered into the driver’s seat. The theatre was an inferno, the fire leaping from the ancient roof. I buckled my belt and cranked the motor. I observed the arc of the headlights as Alex followed me. When we started out she met her companions somewhere close by, but we never discussed the explicit location. I trusted her now to follow my lead. I started toward the edge of town, stopping close by the cluster of hospitals that dominated one segment of downtown Louisville. I needed to make certain no one was injured and withheld it from me. I wouldn’t tolerate it.

  We pulled the cars to an adjacent gas station to take inventory of our various injuries. I beckoned Alex to join me, and the rest of the vehicle emptied out.

  “Is everyone doing all right?” I asked, struggling to sound efficient even though my ears were still ringing.

  Alex nodded. “We have some bruises, and Theo turned his knee, but we were far enough away to miss the worst.” She turned worried eyes to where I was standing next to Sister Eva. “What about you?”

  The heat of the flames that engulfed the theatre was enough to singe my hair and give my skin a rosy glow. So much for working together. I guess Roberts decided it would be better to kill me than work with me. Good call on his part.

  There were burn spots on all our clothes where the heated ash had rained down on us. We were all checking ourselves for burns, with Sister Eva coming out the best since she had the most skin covered. I couldn’t tell in the dark if her clothes suffered like mine, but I knew the jeans and shirt I wore would never be salvageable.

  “I’m fine,” I ran an unsteady hand over my hair, smoothing the flyaway strands. The rage bubbling through my system was clouding my judgement, and I tried to smother my immediate response; to track down Roberts and take his lying head.

  “We can
get our ride from here,” Theodore was suggesting. His face looked a little drawn. “I already called him and he’s around the block.”

  A siren sounded from down the street, and we all cringed. “Look, I wanted to stop here close to the hospital, just in case.” I studied the three men to see if they were injured and not telling me.

  “We’re all good,” Rod volunteered. The two other men nodded solemnly, not smiling. We faced death and it wasn’t a pleasant sight. I popped the trunk of my car and the men dropped the items taken from the theater inside and I shut the lid.

  We remained for a moment in an awkward silence. What to say, I’m sorry I almost got you killed? I’m sorry you got involved with this?

  Alex saved me from making any further comments by taking the men back to her car to gather gear. As they returned to where Sister Eva and I were standing, a long low Toyota came rolling into the lot, and a small man with longish hair and stubble covering his angular jaw, rolled down the window.

  “We’re an hour late for the poker game. They made me buy double the beer to get us in. You ready?”

  There was a chorus of low grunts as the men shuffled toward the car.

  Alex followed them, trailing enthusiastic grateful statements ruined slightly by her smudged clothes, her bruised face, and her wild hair.

  Rod stopped and shook her hand, his face serious. I couldn’t hear what he was saying to her, but Alex’s expression was a mingling of affection and concern. I saw her enveloped in hugs, first from one man, then the next, and envied her those easy gestures. I felt an unusual desire for an embrace, warm arms to hold me close, to tell me everything was going to end up okay. My mind flickered to the rugged face of Victor, and then away. We were not to be, and the sooner my heart got over it, the sooner I could move on. Besides, I didn’t need any man to save me. I was going to save myself.

  When we staggered into the house, I needed nothing more than to drop into bed, to sink into oblivion where there was nothing to think about and nothing to worry me. I didn’t want to imagine any childish faces morphing into evil, or Roberts’s perfectly average visage lit with some unholy power.