Sekhet

  He had only ever been to Twisp once before, when Lily visited her mother following a disagreement made right. That had been a couple of years ago, and the last time Sarah would see her daughter, alive. The feeling that something was amiss with Sarah was enough to force his hand, outvoting even his own common sense. Whatever was happening in Twisp had her name all over it, or so he had told himself. If he was wrong, what harm would it be to look the woman in the face and tell her she was a shit mother? Frankie wondered, as he picked up speed, leaving Wenatchee.

  It was a nice change from the big city – the coffee wasn’t bad, the customer service was good, the streets were clean. That was about all he got out of being there. Small town living was not on the cards for him. But he had to admit, if he managed to get Lily’s life insurance money out from under her father and his asshole lawyer friend who had taken on the case, he wouldn’t mind living on Queen Anne Hill – the tallest in the city – looking down on the riff-raff while lacking the sentiment of even the slightest sense of guilt. It would be another two hours before he would reach his destination, and he was already envisioning Sarah’s face.

  When he was younger, Frankie’s teachers had insisted his parents have him tested. They had been convinced that his outbursts of extreme happiness, crossed with irritable resentment and rage, accompanied by bouts of depression, were something to be concerned about.

  His parents had followed up on that, of course, not wanting problems in the future for their only, somewhat spoiled son. They placed him in three days per week, hour-long sessions with a psychiatrist who spent his time doodling on his notepad, was shoving medication down young Frankie’s throat.

  After two years of this, Frankie no longer recognized anyone or anything in his life as having power over him. His anger had turned to hatred, while his depression had turned into paranoia. Having been arrested during his first year of college for assaulting a roommate after a night of drinking, Frankie had found himself expelled, with no hope of returning to finish his degree.

  The roommate spent two weeks in the hospital with a broken jaw, which, to Frankie’s amusement, had to be wired shut. His ribs had been fractured, and his right wrist needed screws. It was a miracle Frankie had only served a year in prison for the attack, but it was a year that had damaged him for life. It did seem that a pretty boy was fresh meat when old enough to be placed in mainstream prison, but he had learned, and learned quickly, how to manipulate things and come out on top. Deals were made, and his parents paid the money needed to keep him in one piece until his time was served. Bruised but not battered, he had been released on parole after eighteen months. Determined to succeed, he was geared up to take on the world.

  Hiding his background, he met Lily on a blind date. He could say that had certainly worked out to his advantage. The Fairmount Olympic Hotel had been the agreed upon place for them to meet, where the stairs reminded him of the Titanic, though he appreciated it wasn’t the same class, as the only two exact comparisons were in the Vatican and at the very haunted manor house, Loftus Hall, which both he and Lily had later visited, during their time in Ireland. But it was still impressive. With prices way out of his league, he had been led to realize straightaway that she lived on Mommy and Daddy’s money, unlike him, cut off, after his release from prison, which had left his mother in tears and his father ready to kill him. He had never told his new friends, or Lily, about the whole prison thing.

  Frankie had arrived early, waiting patiently for his date, with hopes she wouldn’t be a complete loser. His dream was a woman in a body-hugging red dress to her knees, off one shoulder, silver stilettos with a five-inch heel, heels he would see over her head by the end of the night. He had been wrong in all counts. Lily was beautiful, but she arrived looking like a nun, lived in a small apartment on Vinegar Hill, worked a part-time job at a library (her parents long divorced), while taking college classes and had made him work for her affections for weeks before allowing him the opportunity to bed her. Lily had chosen him against her mother’s impassioned pleas.

  “We were perfect, just you and me, but, no, you had to change everything!” he roared, hitting the steering wheel over and over again until his hand began to hurt. Longing for the days when Thanksgiving meant cuddling on the couch, watching a black-and-white movie, huddled up beneath a warm blanket, because they hadn’t had enough to pay the electricity bill or buy a turkey. This life was pushed out by expensive dinner parties surrounded by people he didn’t know or like, and a house where blankets were shoved in the back of a linen closet. “Couldn’t just leave it alone! No, you had to run to daddy for help,” he raged, wiping the salty water from his cheeks.

  ***

  Jack Budrow’s mouth twitched as his wife Jessica chuckled with amusement, despite the fact Jack was retelling the story of the state of affairs he had found himself in that morning – how he had fallen while out patrolling (he must have –-the only way he could explain his dirt-smeared uniform to himself) – and one might think he would get a bit of sympathy from his own wife.

  Regretting her laughter, Jess noted the haunted look lacing her husband’s features, and wondered if there was something he wasn’t telling her. He looked to be suffering a moment’s disorientation, which reminded her of a time way back when he had just joined the force, but that was a conversation she wasn’t going to begin.

  “Do you know, I don’t think I’ll ever tire of you,” Jess said, placing her hand on his and squeezing, trusting that a chat might help Jack’s frame of mind. “You know you ruined me for all other men.”

  He laughed wholeheartedly, grabbing her as she walked past him. “Oh, really?” His arms gripped her tightly, forbidding her escape. “How so?”

  “You know exactly how.” Struggling to free herself, slapping his arm playfully, Jess couldn’t help but run both hands through his hair, which used to be thicker, while gazing into the eyes that were the same blue as ever.

  “Yes, I do,” he replied, taking a firm hold of her again.

  “Stop that!” Jess wriggled, trying her best to break free, which only made him chuckle louder; at the same time, he bit her earlobe, making her shriek with the shock. “Chief Budrow!” she cried, as if totally scandalized by his brazenness. Of course, he knew better, and digging his fingers deep into her sides, he tickled her like he would one of his children, until Jess snorted and fell out of his lap.

  “Did you just snort?” he asked, sitting back in the chair, leaving her lying flat on the kitchen floor, gasping.

  “Don’t be an idiot,” Jess responded tartly, throwing her hand out. “Help me up.”

  “Hey, it’s not my fault you’re so clumsy.”

  “Jack? What is it?” Gathering herself together, she stood directly in front of her husband, whose face had suddenly drained of color, so pale she was afraid he would vomit. Or pass out. Instead, he leapt from the chair, with her chasing him into the hallway, confused and a little scared.

  “I knew it!” Budrow shouted out of nowhere, shocking Jess.

  “What! What’s wrong?” she said as she stumbled, trying to catch her balance.

  “I have to go. Don’t wait up; it’s gonna be a long day. And night.” Kissing her in a rush, Budrow sprinted from the house, slamming the door behind him. A young child’s scream echoed in the background and he winced. Shit, she’s gonna kill me. He saw it all play out in his mind as he climbed into his cruiser. “Dammit!” he yelled, rushing back to the front door.

  Barging in and nearly knocking his little girl to the floor in the process, leaving him to propel her high into the air and onto his hip, while at the same time taking hold of her, Budrow kissed his wife solidly with a promise to take up where they left off when he got back.

  Handing over the youngest of their offspring to his wife, Budrow once again sped out into the chilled air. Screeching out of the driveway, headed for Dot Patterson’s house, he shouted a stream of profanity for the tenth time in as many minutes, as his memory of Lucy attacking him flashing thr
ough his mind, crystal clear.

  ***

  The kind-faced nurse introduced herself as Linda, when the girl, who had not recovered her memory and had not yet been identified, woke up at 3 a.m. in the hospital, in a cold sweat, crying about fire and darkness.

  Dressed in a baby blue nurse’s uniform, Linda moved to sit on the edge of the bed.

  The girl was fighting back tears, begging to go home.

  “Try to go back to sleep,” Linda said gently stroking the girl’s thin, little arm.

  “Is my mom coming?”

  “I think she will be here in the morning.”

  Without a word, the girl nodded, turned on her side and closed her eyes.

  At six a.m., the girl was awakened. by the click of lights overhead and the cheerful “good morning” calls of the nurses, who, even though spending the last ten hours of their twelve-hour shift doing paperwork, running from room to room, checking beeping machines, bathroom trips for those who could walk, and a crossword thrown in for good measure, were coming her way with clean, crisp sheets.

  The room was a light beige color, with bright pictures on the wall. Not unpleasant to look at, but right now, the girl wasn’t in the mood to take in the décor and compliment the arrangement, or framing, or whatever else people think of when looking at art hanging on the wall in a hospital room.

  The girl’s mouth was so dry that the top of her tongue was sticking to the roof, leaving her yearning for any liquid. She was parched, but mostly just wanted something to wet her lips and mouth, anything damp.

  “I need to go to the bathroom.”

  The mood changed in that split second as Linda came waltzing into the room, her face brightened by a smile that wasn’t forced but genuine. The little girl she felt safe with her.

  “Look who has found her voice at last,” the nurse sang out, looking amused. “Well, do you want a bedpan?” Linda’s voice had a slight smile in it, already knowing her answer, but she waited for the response regardless.

  Scrunching up her face at the thought of sitting on the strange shaped metal contraption, made the little girl smile turning to a lighthearted giggle, which she had to admit made her feel as though she just might have a chance at winning this argument.

  “Please can I use the bathroom?” she pleaded.

  “Here,” Linda said with a wink, unhooking the IV. “I’ll help you.”

  With a grateful nod, the girl threw the blankets to one side, displaying a blue hospital gown. With that, her feet touched the cool floor. The chilliness on her soles was unpleasant, but she was on a roll and was not stopping now. The room was spinning, and when the nurse’s hand went under her arm in a bid to keep her in a straight line, or perhaps simply to stop her falling flat on her face, she felt as though she was finally in control.”

  The girl declared she would not sit on it unless it was covered and Linda covered the toilet seat with layers of paper. Then Linda stated, “The door “must stay open. Ring the bell when you’re done.”

  The girl had never peed in public, and having someone say she had to made her feel strange. What if someone walked in? She wanted her mother so badly the loud sob she had been holding escaped through trembling lips. Grabbing hold of the sink adjacent to her, she pulled herself upright and, leaning forward, pushed the door closed as quietly as humanly possible. She sat, just sat. Nothing happened, but she sat there, in the quiet.

  The bathroom was big enough to fit six people and still have space. The toilet was its normal white, along with the sink, which had a strange stain on the right side of the hot water faucet. She decided not to speculate on what it was, since she was pretty sure she didn’t want to know.

  The whole space smelled of disinfectant. That faithful hospital smell, which told you ‘yes, I have been cleaned.’ A knock came on the door, A voice floated from the other side of the door, a voice she knew so well. She couldn’t breathe, was it really her? When she saw her mother standing, arms outstretched, by her bed, she exploded into an unsteady run, crying.

  “Yoselin, honey, thank God you’re okay!”

  Yoselin was going home!

  CHAPTER 16

  To Catch a Rat

  Chief Budrow was back?

  Dot stopped for a moment to consider her options – invite Budrow in, or finish what Lucy had obviously botched – before she answered. Wary of the man standing on her front porch for many reasons, one being the fact he seemed to recall just about everything, with the exception of remembering how he had returned to the station following his visit, or his popping into her home for a snoop around.

  Seeing this was not the time to address his boundary issues, Dot chose the latter and invited him in, hoping with everything in her that Lucy, or whoever her daughter was right now, would stay upstairs, or if not, behave herself until Dot could think of a way of getting rid of the good chief. She would attend to his questions, brew him a nice warm cup of tea, and send him on his way.

  Struggling to keep his temper in check, Budrow sat waiting for the teapot to boil, watching Dot’s every move. The kitchen wasn’t what he remembered. The table was shorter in height and more rounded, with the slightest shade of yellow flowing around its edges. An odd design covered the center; he was sure it hadn’t been there earlier, and he had to admit it was not to his taste, but to each their own, as he would often say to people. The chairs were surprisingly comfortable, considering they were wooden with high backs. The same design that was on the table had been painted on their backs. The design intrigued him, holding his attention long enough for Dot to gather her wits about her before taking her position directly across from him.

  “It may be a little hot,” Dot cautioned, sipping delicately from her cup, her eyes not breaking contact with his for a second.

  “Where is she?” Budrow asked.

  “Who?”

  “You know who … Lucy.”

  “You know, I am not one hundred percent sure.” Dot forced a small smile that did not work on the chief; instead of keeping him entertained, Dot had helped his agitation grow tenfold.

  “Stop playing games, Dot! You need to tell me what the hell is going on here.”

  “Really, Jack, I have everything under control.”

  “Under control? A dead girl walked down my street, your daughter attacked me, I have not one but two Seattle detectives wandering around. What part do you have under control?”

  “Like she said, she has everything under control.” The voice was unnerving, making the hair on Budrow’s arms stand on end. Not twisting to face the person he knew all too well, Budrow laughed gently to cover his nervousness, placing both hands upon the table.

  “Please don’t bother; it won’t do you any good. In all honesty, I am growing exceedingly bored with you mortals.” Pulling the chair out of her way, Sekhet straddled it, facing Budrow, her arms crossed on the yellow-topped wood. She smiled. “But then again, you are hardly a mortal, now are you, Scurlock? Why do you live this life? It is so… dirty.” Scrunching up her nose, or Lucy’s nose rather, Sekhet brushed off imaginary dust from her sleeve.

  “I should have known,” Budrow replied, shaking his head, sitting back, letting his fingers drum on the tabletop, wondering why he hadn’t known, wondering if he as losing is powers. “What brings you back into this realm, Sekhet? Tired of being told what to do down there? Let me guess, this is the only way you can do what you want and Lucifer won’t interfere? After all, what are a few mortals here and there?”

  “Oh, shut up. I’m surprised you haven’t run home to Lilith, to whisper in her ear about how mean I am being to you. You are nothing but an incubus who grew attached to his last sexual encounter. How long has it been now? Twenty, twenty-one years that you have forced yourself to stay loyal?” Her laughter rang out, loud and menacing. “Seriously, Scurlock, when was the last time you actually saw your real face? Do you cover your unknowing wife in the darkness of the night with your true self, or do you remain trapped in that?” Pointing to him, eyes flashing, she
waited for his response.

  “Why couldn’t you have just left the girl dead? Do you realize the headache you have caused for me? What makes it worse is having to pretend I have no clue what is happening.”

  “What can I say? I made a promise.”

  “You made a mistake!” Scurlock barked, clearly not impressed. His voice boomed, dark and dangerous, just as his hands shattered the table with the force of his anger. “You will not hunt in this town!”

  “You are no match for me.” Standing to face him, Sekhet put her hand gently on his stubble-covered cheek. “And you know it.” She tapped his face lightly. “By the way, what are you going to do about the necromancer and the seer? I find them extremely fascinating. Well, for what they are, fascinating is probably too kind a word to use.”

  When he didn’t answer, Sekhet chuckled in that deep-rooted voice yet again. “You really shouldn’t be so quick to hide your real self around the likes of those two. They were like children with a new toy, dragging you all over the place. The next time, they might shave your eyebrows right off.” Snickering, she winked at Dot, who had turned an ash white, as she held on to the countertop for support. “Dot, do you mean to tell me you had no idea of what he actually is? Well, you don’t have to worry, he will never come crawling into your bed at night.”

  “Just because I grew bored crawling into yours?” Scurlock growled.

  “Go to hell,” Sekhet spat in response.

  “Too late – been there, done that. I actually think I may have the T-shirt.”

  “You think one dead girl is a headache? You are about to be very busy.” Leaning in, she placed a kiss gently on his lips just as her tongue flicked out, hot, blistering the soft skin beneath his bottom lip. “I’m sure that brought back memories, but then again, you weren’t in this form the last time you kissed these lips, were you?” Her eyes flashed crimson as she sensed his resentment pierce her skin.