by D. M. Pratt
She looked at Mac. His eyes went to Philip and then to Eve. They were filled with concern.
Chapter Thirty One
Eve gazed out the car’s front window, watching the last light of day fade into the horizon. Storm driven winds blew and clouds cluttered the sky as dense and heavy as a thick winter cloak. She watched as the billowing mist descended across the broad shoulders of New Orleans and enveloped the spires of the skyline. Rain drops intermittently fell, fat and heavy, onto the windshield only to be cleared by the rhythmic swipe of the wipers. Eve glanced back at Delia and Philip sitting quietly in the back; Philip was looking at a book while Delia was challenging herself with some energy game Philip had shown her. Eve could see tiny sparks flying off her fingers and was concerned how quickly they were advancing. These children, as young as they were, had supernatural powers.
She looked at Mac sitting focused behind the wheel. He’d been the one who insisted they wait for the cover of darkness before venturing out, especially with Cora’s Amber Alert still looming over Eve and the children. Cora had been on TV most of the day imploring Eve to bring her daughter back. She said she wasn’t angry, just terribly worried. But when Eve looked into her eyes as she spoke into the camera, she saw only rage in their cool blue color and heard only anger underscoring every word. Cora’s anger frightened Eve. It was not like her, but then nothing was like it was. None of the reports mentioned Beau and that, compounded by the bizarre destruction of the guest house, worried her. Has she lost him too? Her heart ached. She loved Beau and wanted to believe he was not in control of what happened to him and Cora. The question that haunted her was, what if Beau wasn’t Beau at all?
The children were different too, still young, but definitely not toddlers. The maturity etched in their young faces unnerved Eve. No matter how hard she tried, she didn’t understand this odd reality facing her.
“You okay?” Mac asked, catching her as she wiped away the tears that slid down her cheeks.
“No,” Eve answered.
“We’ll get to Dr. Honoré and find that book. It’ll have answers,” he said.
“You really think so?” Eve asked.
She could hear the hope caught in her throat. She was hanging on naive wishes of please let this work out. Please let my son and Delia be normal. Please let Beau be alright. Oh please … let me be normal.
They drove to the bridge that would take them over the Mississippi River and into Algiers. The Amber Alert road block out of New Orleans had been only the briefest delay because when Eve turned to look back at the children, it was as if Philip and Delia read her mind. Before her eyes, they faded, leaving only a quiver of energy that was invisible to the police as they drove by. A beleaguered cop glanced in and waved them through.
“Move on,” the cop said, searching for a woman and two toddlers they would never find.
The cops looked hot and tired, getting wetter with each hour as they nervously watched the gathering storm overhead.
Several minutes later, Mac passed through the twin cemeteries that flanked the street of Old Algiers that led to Dr Honoré’s. When their car finally arrived the rain was kind enough to slow to a drizzle, but the wind continued to gust. Once out of the car, Mac picked up Philip and Eve gathered Delia and they ran to the house as, the wind beat against their bodies and the rain soaked their clothes. Once inside Dr Honoré’s front gate they quickly reached the front door of her office and set the children down.
The porch was lit by a single electric brass lamp that emitted a dull haze of yellow light. Mac looked at Eve’s dress, wet and sheer, clinging to her body and accenting the curves he wanted very much to touch and hold. He took off his jacket and offered it to her, doing his best to avert his coveting eyes. Eve smiled at him, grateful, missing the blush of color that flushed his cheeks. She looked at her sopping little entourage, wet and cold, and hoped this wouldn’t take long.
Mac looked at the alarm and the camera that went with the security system.
“Philip, do you know how to shut these devices down?” Eve asked, pointing to both.
Philip looked up, studied the two devices, and reached out. Mac lifted him and he placed a small hand over each. He closed his eyes and their LED lights faded to black.
“My turn,” Delia said.
“You have to keep practicing,” Philip told her. “Here Delia, you open the lock. Make the bolt move back with your mind.”
Eve picked up Delia and they all watched as Delia reached out, putting her finger against the lock. She swiped her hand and they heard a soft click. With a push, the door opened. Mac and Eve set the children down and amazed, the four shadows slipped inside leaving the cold night behind them.
“I want you to wait here,” Eve said. “If the book’s here, I’ll find it. I think I remember where she put it.”
Mac nodded, placing an arm around each of the children.
“Hurry,” Mac said. “We still have to drive to Thibodaux.”
Eve reached for the light and flipped a switch. Nothing happened.
“I made it all go away,” Philip said. “The energy that makes the lights work.”
“Do you want me to bring it back?” Philip asked.
“No!” Eve and Mac said in unison.
“Better not in case it trips the alarm,” Mac suggested. He reached in his pocket and pulled out his smart phone. He turned on the torch App and handed it to Eve. “We’ll wait here. There’s plenty of light from the street. We’re not scared? Right?” he asked the kids.
They smiled up at him and nodded, eagerly taking Mac’s hands. Eve took his phone and walked forward shining the light through the now opened door of Dr Honoré’s office and onto the bookshelf that filled one entire office wall. She ran her hand over the volumes of psychiatric and medical books that lined the middle shelf until she reached the center where the ancient leather book had been only to find a dark, empty space.
Eve turned, remembering that Dr. Honoré had laid the book on her desk. While crossing the room Eve flashed on what had happened the day she left the book behind. Her body began to tingle with an erotic hunger that surprised her. She felt as if hands were sensually brushing her body and with each touch, bits and pieces of what she had experienced came back to her. She remembered the room where she had been held; the people watching as six men seduced her. A cold, eerie chill went up her spine and snapped her back to the present moment. When the phone’s little light illuminated the desk, Eve saw it was cluttered, disorganized and not at all the way Eve thought the pristine and organized Dr. Honoré would leave it. Dr. Honoré or someone else had been looking for something. Eve noticed the drawers were opened, pulled out and emptied onto the floor. Someone was looking for what? The book? Had they found it? Her thoughts raced as she circled around behind the desk, never taking her eyes off the clutter. Eve looked over the papers that lay in disarray. She saw her name, Eve Dowling, on a file. Dr. Honoré’s notes, both handwritten and typed - transcribed, dated and organized chronologically starting with her early days at the hospital were all there. She turned over the file and read the doctor’s prognosis: delusional, irrational, shows signs of paranoid, undifferentiated schizophrenic behaviors – possibly due to traumatic head injury and coma. Test for chemical imbalance. She didn’t believe me, Eve thought. She listened, but she didn’t believe me. A feeling of panic choked her. Eve stepped back, bumping into something. A rush of terror gripped her as she spun, facing a pair of dangling legs in a skirt. Eve screamed as she shot the light up, revealing Dr. Honoré, dead, in a hangman’s noose. Her twisted facial features, protruding black tongue and lifeless bulging eyes, stared out at Eve.
Mac was in the room before she realized what was happening. He jumped onto the desk, undid the noose and somehow managed to catch the body before it hit the ground. He rushed the lifeless body to the couch and checked her pulse. Eve followed, keeping the light on them. Her hands were trembling.
“Someone killed her!” Eve said.
“This certainly wasn’t
suicide from the destruction in this room,” Mac said. “It was recent. She is still warm. We need to get out of here,” Mac said. “Are you alright?”
“No! I’m not alright! She’s dead! Someone killed her! Why? Why!” Eve shouted, her voice verging on the hysterical.
“Eve, listen to me!” Mac insisted, shaking her by the shoulders from her terror. “Eve! We need to get out of here and get to Thibodaux Hospital right now to meet Dr. Afrine Kasatah. Do you understand me?”
Eve fought back the tears, emotions and fear that pounded in her chest. She wanted to breathe but couldn’t.
“She’s dead. She’s dead,” Eve repeated.
Mac pulled her into him. He held her tighter. His arms enfolded her, her face burrowed into his chest. The ferocious trembling that racked her body slowly subsided.
It was in that silence they heard a low hiss of air and a deep moan rise up from behind them. Eve and Mac spun. She put the light on what once had been the face of death and found Delia touching a living, breathing, but weak and confused Dr. Honoré.
“She wasn’t very far gone,” Delia said as innocently as someone who’d just found a lost puppy and brought it back.
Dr. Honoré choked and rubbed her throat. She tried to speak, but couldn’t.
Eve went to Dr. Honoré. “You’re going to be okay. Do you understand me?”
Dr. Honoré nodded yes. Again she tried to speak, but only the hiss of constricted breath came out.
“Dr. Honoré, do you know who did this?” Mac asked.
“Did they want the book? Did they take it?” Eve asked.
Dr. Honoré looked into Eve’s eyes and shook her head no. She moved her lips to speak, causing another choking spasm.
“My … ca— in my …”
“It’s in her car,” Mac said. “Where are the keys?”
Dr. Honoré pointed to the door. Mac took the light and shined it at the door only to see Philip standing, staring at them. He looked angry and very upset. Eve got up and rushed to take her son from the room. Mac searched the area, found Dr. Honoré’s purse and dumped it on the floor, searching until he found the keys. The key ring said Jaguar and had a little silver cat leaping into midair. Mac rushed out of the door past Eve and Philip.
“Are you okay, son,” Eve asked, stroking his hair.
“Delia was bad,” Philip said.
“Delia? She was helping Dr. Honoré. She saved her,” Eve said.
“She cursed her. She belongs to them now,” Philip said. “Go get Delia and let’s get away, please mommy. Go now. Now.”
Philip was getting upset again.
“Delia!” Eve called out. “Delia, come here sweetie, right now.”
Delia didn’t come.
She turned Philip to face her. “Philip, Mommy wants you to stay right here. Do you understand?”
Philip nodded. Eve turned back and slowly walked into the now dark room. Even with the light from the street lamp she could barely see. Eve’s eyes adjusted as she moved toward the couch where Dr. Honoré and Delia had been. Eve could see Dr. Honoré washed in the eerie glow from the window holding on to a very frightened Delia. Even in the dark, Eve could see the tears that fell down Delia’s cheeks.
“Delia, come here,” Eve said softly.
“She’s hurting my hand,” Delia said through her sobs.
“Let her go, Dr. Honoré,” Eve told her.
“Are these their children?” Dr. Honoré asked.
“They are my son and Cora’s daughter. You’ve met them before,” Eve said. “Now let her come to me. You’re frightening her.”
“The boy is here? He wants them both, especially the boy,” Dr. Honoré said, her voice a growl.
“Let her go,” Eve said, stepping forward slowly and deliberately.
“What he wants is you. You have the power to let more of them come in,” Dr. Honoré said.
“Let her come to me and we can discuss it,” Eve said.
“I can help you. He showed me what you can do. How powerful you are. I told him you wouldn’t help him and that’s when they tried to kill me and—”
“They?” Eve asked.
Dr. Honoré opened her mouth to speak again, but a loud thud cut her off and sent her to her knees.
Delia ran into Eve’s arms. Eve looked up and saw Mac standing above Dr. Honoré holding a small piece of statuary. Dr. Honoré tipped forward falling flat on the carpet. Once again, Mac caught her before she hit the floor. He lifted her to the couch and turned back to Eve. Delia held onto Eve as tight as she could.
“I got the book. Let’s get out of here,” Mac said. “Something tells me we’re running out of time.”
“All of us,” Eve said.
Chapter Thirty Two
Cora stood stone faced, immobile, staring at nothing. Her house was dark and silent and the only sound that came from down the hall was voices. Cora moved forward, gliding as if on a cushion of air and, as she did, the voices got louder. Cora looked down at her feet; they didn’t move. She could see the wall pass by her, but she did nothing to propel her body. As she reached the door to the living room she saw Millard. At his feet lay what remained of Zamara. She was dead; ripped and torn, broken and covered in blood. Cora wanted to go to her, but she couldn’t move her arms or legs. Cora wanted to scream, but her mouth wouldn’t open.
“She disobeyed me, Cora. This is what happens to people who disobey me.”
Cora looked at Millard. He wasn’t speaking. From behind Millard stepped Kirakin. He peeled from the shadows that filled the back corners of the room and slowly, he crossed to her. He was magnificent; tall and powerful, beautiful and hideous at the same time.
“If you promise not to scream or run away again and do as I say, I will release you,” Kirakin said.
Cora, unable to move or speak, looked at him. Slowly he set her down and she felt her bare feet touch the carpet. Like a melting candle she felt the constricting force release her and the pain that racked her subside.
“There. That’s much better. Yes?” Kirakin said.
Cora nodded.
“Yes?” Kirakin said this time more forcefully.
“Yes,” Cora repeated. “You said you would help me get my daughter back.”
“And so I will, and you will help me get Eve. That is our deal,” Kirakin said.
“You don’t need her, you need Beau,” Millard insisted.
“I have Beau anytime I want him. He will be my portal to Eve when the moon is highest,” Kirakin said. “This is the night I take her home.”
Kirakin walked to Cora with the grace of a cheetah. His body stopped so close to hers, she could feel the heat emanating through his pours. He reached out his hand and sensually touched her face. Slowly, he leaned in and pressed his lips against hers. His kiss was soft and almost sweet. His hands traced down her neck, dragging over her shoulder and gently down her breasts. It was only then she realized she was naked.
“Get your hands off me,” Cora said. “I want my daughter.”
“A tigress! I like fight in a woman. So… we can do this nice, and I will pleasure you as you have never been pleasured before, or we can do this rough. The choice is yours, Cordelia Belle,” Kirakin said.
“I’m in love with Beau, but you know that. I want my daughter back and when this… whatever this is, is over, I want Beau. Do I make myself understood?” Cora told him.
“Why don’t you just leave her alone? We have more important things to handle tonight than you fucking this bitch,” Millard said.
A swipe of Kirakin’s hand sent Millard crashing against the wall. His body fell, limp and silent to the floor.
Kirakin’s face never left Cora’s.
“I want Eve, but I will take you and when I’m done with Beau, if there is anything left, you can have him and… the little girl… if you’re good. Eve and my son will come with me.”
Cora looked at Millard lying unconscious on the floor. She felt Kirakin kissing her back and neck, his tongue tasting her, his fing
ers sliding down her pubis and between her legs, fondling her clitoris. She looked at what was left of Zamara. She felt his other hand pulling at her nipples and his hot mouth leaning down to suck on them. She felt them grow erect. Finally, she looked at Kirakin as his face lifted level with hers and his mouth covered her mouth. She felt his tongue dart inside while his hands moved down her body and grabbed her ass. He spread her legs apart slowly, as if they had a life of their own. She felt his tail curl around her ankle and twist up her leg. She could feel its firm, smooth round tip peel open, unfolding like a flower in the sun, exposing the undulating, silken tentacles that sensually crawled over her and teased and tickled every inch of her vulva. They were electric; wet and hot. Each follicle fondled her as the rows of tentacles spread her open and the core emerged, hard, thick and long and slid up inside her with a wild, erotic sensation impossible to describe with words. Cora closed her eyes as she released to the Nephilim. She would get what she wanted, but a price had to be paid and she was that price.
Chapter Thirty Three
The drive to Thibodaux Hospital took an eternity—high winds and pouring rain, fallen branches and never ending lightening and distant thunder. The worst of the storm was still to come. The children sat silently, staring out their respective windows, unwilling to share what they were thinking or feeling about what was happening. Mac told Eve that as a detective he knew enough to let them ruminate over the events and assured her that when they were ready they would share. It was a lot for a child to take in. It was a lot to take in as an adult. Mac said he couldn’t imagine what they as children must be dealing with and the night was far from over.
So they drove. Two hours passed. Three hours. The rain fell and the wind blew, buffeting harder against the car as the storm outside grew in strength. They listened to the local weather reports, praying the class three storm heading in from the Gulf would grow no stronger. The idea of surviving a hurricane in addition to whatever was about to unfold was unconscionable. According to the news reports, Thibodaux Hospital seemed to lie directly in the hurricane’s path.