Roberts removed a large hand gun from his suit pocket and stepped around the mound of stinking ash. “Pity,” he declared, casually brushing spots of ash from his suit. “Toss the sword over by the armor, if you please.”
I stared at him, or, more precisely, the gun and did as he asked. “You wanted her dead. You set this up.” The comment was ludicrous and unnecessary, but my brain wasn’t connected with my body yet.
“I had wished it would go better. I wanted you to agree, to join us.” He smiled at me, his face still conventional businessman casual. “She was quite set on it. But I couldn’t allow you to die. We have so much more we need to do.”
He ran a thumb across the amulet. “And I wanted this. Did you know the ancient Egyptians worshipped many different gods, but they were all merely the Lord of Light in other incarnations? With this, I can now create other Soulless to do my bidding.
Watching me carefully, he bent and picked up my knife from the blackened ashes. He flipped the knife in his hand and held it out to me, holding the blade so I could grasp the hilt.
“You’re not going to kill me?”
He shook his head a little wistfully. “Samantha, do you think I’d give up on you so easily?”
I gawked at him. If I moved quick enough I could get in one decent hit with the dagger before he blew me away. The gun was pointed directly at my chest and would be lethal. Yet here he was offering my knife like we were old friends.
“Why?” I asked, my body numb.
“We have a longer story, you and I. And Rowan was getting out of control, crazed with revenge. She was born in 1178. The suit of armor belonged to her father. Did you know that? She has existed for an excessively lengthy time. Age has offered her an edge no longer tolerable. She was seeking authority to overthrow other Infernal Lords.”
“And you?”
“I am her creation, her spiritual son. Now I have no doubts I will become an Infernal Lord for I have pleased my maker.”
“Satan.” It wasn’t a question. I heard the low gurgle behind me and glanced toward the figure on the chair. “And Tom?”
“He will be dealt with by the Dark One,” Roberts replied. “I will burn him tonight.”
I felt a shudder. There was no doubt Tom was enduring the anguish of his injuries even as his body decayed. To be burned alive would be hell. But then again, that’s where he was before. And would be again. He might as well get used to the feeling.
“And me?”
“We will meet again, my sweet,” Roberts answered, his tone low and silky. I took the knife from him and backed away a few steps. He reached in his pocket and pulled out a very sophisticated and expensive cell phone. He caught me looking and grinned. “One of my downfalls. I do love new gadgets.” He tapped a few icons, texting, I realized. I shook my head. A soulless demon was standing before me texting after he helped me obliterate an Infernal Lord, the one who created him. “You may leave now,” he declared, glancing at me.
“Leave?”
“Unless you want to fight me, and I don’t think you’re prepared for that now. I can shoot you where you stand, or you may leave. Your choice.”
I studied him somberly. I couldn’t understand what happened, but I knew he was right. I couldn’t win if I fought him now. I needed my katana, not the bulky sword or a dagger. I needed to face him on equal turf.
“I can’t let this go. You know I can’t.” I would have to try to slay him. It wasn’t a question of if but when.
“I know.” He stepped past me and swung open the door, gesturing with one hand.
I slipped out before him, a momentary truce. There were a thousand ways he could kill me here. The hallway stretched out, two doors down only, to an open entry way. I could see the front door from where I stood, and the open doorway of the parlor across the hall from me. The house, such as it was, was laid out as it was when I came in earlier. No more fantastical views, no unending hallways, no dungeon passages.
He walked me to the door as though we were finishing a business meeting, and he was showing me out. He opened the front door, and I peered out upon the lawn, still dappled green and golden, the trees full and shading the drive. There was a car behind mine, and a figure was in the front seat. Sister Eva climbed out of the automobile, her hands concealed in the trailing sleeves of her habit. She was profoundly still, watchful.
“A good day to you,” Roberts added. I squinted at him and stepped out onto the porch and the door closed with a subtle click behind me. I kept a cautious eye on the panel as I dashed down the porch steps. My shoes made a satisfying crunch on the gravel as I stepped, and when I was finally close to the car, it took every fiber of my being not to rush into Sister Eva’s arms.
“My child?” she said, a question in her voice.
“We need to go. Where’s Abe?”
Almost as though he heard my voice, Abe rounded the corner of the house and loped with a tall man’s grace toward the car. I slid in the passenger seat and he climbed in the driver’s seat while Sister Eva eased into the back.
“Go,” I said. “Let’s go.”
“Your car?” Abe’s voice was mildly curious, holding back his emotions.
“I’ll get it later. I need to get home, or anywhere but here.”
There was a rumble from behind us, and I twisted in my seat. Abe was backing around, taking out a fair amount of lawn as he reversed, pulling around my parked car and moving fast toward the fringe of trees.
I watched as the house seemed to shudder on its foundation, and a sucking sound was ripped from the earth. Then the house was cracking, a vast uneven rending in the roofline, the façade, drawing the pillars down, the glass crunching, the bricks tumbling like Legos. And with a final surge of dust and sound, the house withdrew into the earth, leaving behind an immense crater, yawning black and crimson from the earth’s clay.
It was the last I saw of the home as we rounded the bend in the drive.
It was a Tuesday. Not a church day, that was for sure, but here I was. And I couldn’t say why. The curved arches of the Cathedral of the Assumption soared above me. Toward the altar, the rich blue and gold detailing set off the exquisite stained-glass window.
I knew Sister Evangeline would declare it was the house of God, and I was emphatic God was dead, but after the supernatural freak out I experienced only days before, I was willing to hedge my bets.
Sister Evangeline was somewhere soaring above the earth in a fast-moving jet, speeding toward the abbey. The Mother Superior was ill, and they required all hands-on deck to prepare for the impending battle. There was still an untold quantity of artifacts out there, and some were imbued with great power, most of which we never discovered. For now, we needed to identify as many as possible, and secure them. That was step one. The abbey would need to be fortified as well, guarding against any Infernal Lords who elected to pick up where Rowan had left off.
I drew a deep breath. All my friends were in danger. My life was in danger. The world was in danger. I strolled down the aisle, my boots clicking against the marble flooring. There were only a few churchgoers in the neighboring pews, and if any of them considered it was unusual to see me wandering through church with a katana at my side, they didn’t comment.
I had one last duty for my friend. Sister Evangeline asked me for a single favor, and I didn’t let down a friend. I halted in front of an ornate rack of miniature votive candles, seeing the flames lit ruby behind the glass. With slightly trembling fingers, I picked up a long match. I touched it to a flame and watched the fire lick up the wood. Carefully, I tapped a fresh wick with my flame. I turned away and blew the match out, examining the smoke as it swirled toward the ceiling like an invocation. I saw it rise and closed my eyes for a moment, taking in the scent of the incense, the quiet of the place.
Done. I inserted the match among the rest of the smoldering ends and plucked out a roll of bills. This was blood money, funds donated by the Church of the Light Reclaimed. The amount I was leaving here would subsidiz
e a few charities, nothing lavish, but sufficient.
I spun on my heel, sauntering back down the aisle, not glancing back, and not looking to see if anyone was watching. I didn’t care. My duty here was done.
I pushed through the first set of doors, and after they closed quietly, opened the larger heavy wooden ones to stride into the sunshine. Standing on the steps was Alex and Abe, both holding a leash for one of the dobies. These were my companions. These were my people now. Along with the abbey, with Brother J, and with the Hand of God, I would continue our work.
Vengeance was mine.
About the Authors
Rachael Rawlings is an avid reader, tech geek, and mystery fan. She is a full-time mother, wife, pet owner, and Speech Language Pathologist. She spends her day dodging teenagers both at school and at home.
She lives with her husband, James, a professional architect; her three children, Faith, Nicholas, and Chase; and two dogs. She grew up and lives in the small town of Crestwood, Kentucky and is proud to call it home. She also has five loudmouthed birds whom she worries are talking about her behind her back.
She thrives on good coffee, chocolate, and great friends and family. To learn more about Rachael’s work and her upcoming releases, visit her on her website:
https://www.rachaelrawlingsauthor.com/
Bestselling author, Tony Acree, likes putting characters in situations they think they will never survive, and find out if they're right. He lives near Louisville, Kentucky with his wife, twin daughters, two female dogs, a female cat, and says the way the goldfish looks at him, he's sure she's female, too. Follow him at Tonyacree.com and contact him at [email protected]
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