Kat would have to convince Demore that she would spare this woman as long as Demore cooperated. Of course, cooperating meant either giving up his soul or his life, or even both. Once Demore willingly agreed to provide his own body and soul as a sacrifice, the demons would pour into him, making him the instrument of his friend’s destruction.
***
Jim hated leaving Carl alone, but he needed to get to the Viper. He believed that eventually some law enforcement authority would pick Kat up. But if Carl died, that was it. He would be gone. Forever. Death rarely gave second chances.
One question disturbed him — did Kat have a set of keys to one of the other cars? Most likely. And if not to the Viper, then probably the import’s.
He thought he might run into her somewhere outside. Instead, he found her in the kitchen. She was not alone.
Jim had not expected to see Saffi. He certainly did not expect to see Kat in the kitchen holding Saffi captive, using her as a hostage and shield. Saffi’s face was puffy and a gag covered her mouth. Dried blood had crusted along her hairline. Her clothing was disheveled and dirty. Pieces of foliage were stuck in her hair and clung to her bare arms and clothing. Worse, her eyes looked almost vacant, with a little-girl-lost expression. A damaged, empty-looking vessel had replaced the pretty girl who had promised to pray for him.
Jim aimed his pistol. But with Saffi being used as a shield, he didn’t have a clear shot. He had no doubt that Kat would kill Saffi. At this point, he could only offer a trade: Kat’s freedom for Saffi’s and the chance to save Carl’s’ life.
CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE
“Your choices are limited, Trooper Demore,” Kat told him. Her voice revealed no doubts.
“Yours are not much better,” Jim retorted. “You know, with York dead, we probably can’t prove that you caused the accident that killed Briggs. If Trooper Johns lives, you might get out of prison someday and have a shot at a somewhat normal life.”
Kat laughed as if Jim had told a genuinely funny joke. When she spoke again, her voice was deeper and more malevolent.
“What is a normal life, Trooper Demore?”
Kat’s eyes almost glowed in the dark as she spoke. Something sounded wrong with her voice. Or, with his hearing? Some residual effect from the explosion? Or, maybe, just the wind? Changes in atmospheric pressure distorting the sound waves? Regardless, Kat suddenly sounded damn unnatural.
“Your friends don’t have to die, Jim.”
Kat said his name as if they’d been intimate.
“There is a way out of this for all of you,” she promised.
Saffi’s eyes were now wide open, and she kept looking up at something above him. Jim glanced up. The blackness above them seemed almost alive. Jim felt the hairs on his arms and neck stand up.
“There is only one way out of this for you, Ms. Connors,” Jim replied. “Your two boys back there are dead, and if you harm her, I’ll put a bullet right between your eyes. No trial. No plea bargain. If you give up now, yeah, you’ll do a few years, maybe even a decade or two, but you probably won’t die in prison.”
Kat’s eyes blazed in the darkness and she began sideling around toward the door, careful to keep Saffi between Jim’s gun and herself.
“If she dies, it will be your fault,” Kat said, the intimate tone gone from her voice. “Can you live with that?”
Jim refused to take the bait.
“If she dies,” he said, “you die.”
“There are things much worse than death, Trooper Demore. Things that kill your spirit, your soul, every day, and the next day you wake up and it happens all over again.”
Kat had inched her way back until she felt the door behind her. She used one hand to hold both the knife and Saffi’s bound wrists, and the other hand to turn the doorknob. The wind grabbed the door and it flew open and slammed against the back of the house. Kat continued to back down the stairs, keeping Saffi close to her. The blade of the knife jerked and jumped, pricking Saffi’s skin through her shirt.
The wind roared past Kat and into the kitchen. Kat struggled to hold onto Saffi while Jim fought to keep his balance and aim. If Kat moved out from behind Saffi by a fraction of an inch, he would take the shot. But Kat was able to keep Saffi between herself and his line of sight.
“Don’t be stupid, Kat,” Jim shouted over the wind noise. “There’s no place to go.”
Strong gale winds buffeted both women. Kat continued to pull Saffi backward toward the line of brush and trees that hid the spring. Jim followed them out of the house and into the storm. Big drops of rain beat against him, heralding the coming downpour. A faint rumble of thunder mixed with the sound of the whipping wind.
A malevolent presence seemed to wrap itself around Jim. A blanket of depression enveloped him. Carl was dying, or maybe dead already. Someone, probably Kat or one of her goons, had murdered de la Garza. Briggs had gotten himself and Kimberly decapitated. Saffi might be the next to die. It almost made Jim wish he were back in Afghanistan, or Iraq.
A dark, malicious shadow seemed to have fixed itself to his life and career, and even if he got out of this situation alive, the cost would compound horror upon horror. He did not want to be responsible for Saffi’s death. He had somehow managed to turn a routine accident investigation into a big bowl of shit soup, and he was being spoon-fed giant helpings by a sexpot, demon-possessed, master criminal.
“For God’s sake, Kat, give it up,” Jim shouted, the wind whipping his words away into the night.
New thunder, louder and closer, punctuated Jim’s plea.
“It’s a little late to bring God into this,” Kat shouted back. “Not that he could do you any good. I have a feeling that you never had much use for God anyway. Help yourself, Jim. Help your friends. We can work this out in a way where everyone wins.”
Even shouting over the wind, she had adopted a more soothing tone. Benign. Almost friendly. It sounded full of the same pseudo-understanding he had experienced from the counselors for post-traumatic stress disorder that the military had forced him to endure after returning from the Middle East. Kat offered him sweet succor. Relief. A way to save Saffi, if not himself.
When the next flash of lightning lit up the air around them, he saw that Kat’s eyes did not match her voice. Her voice was saying “Let me save you, Jim.” Her eyes were saying, “I’ll take you to hell with me.”
CHAPTER NINETY
Saffi saw the demonic swarm hovering above Jim. She had heard stories from missionaries seeing demonic manifestations in areas of intense occult activity. She had always listened with a sense of skepticism. Now she saw dozens, even hundreds, of black-shadowed, demonic wraiths. As if hell itself had opened its gates and vomited its contents.
Saffi listened to the exchange between Jim and the woman. Jim called her Kat. Saffi concluded that she was, at present, a human shield for Kat Connors. She tried to make her eyes say what her gagged lips could not. It’s okay. I am not afraid to die. God is with me.
She was not sure what message Jim was getting. Most of the time it looked as if he was calculating his chances of putting a bullet between Connors’ eyes. Saffi doubted that his chances were good.
The pricking stabs of a knife continued to jab her back. She tried not to wince. She felt blood trickle down her back, making her shirt damp and sticky with the blood, her sweat, and the big raindrops that crashed sideways into them. She had the blood, had the sweat, and God was providing the tears. Blood, Sweat & Tears. Lucretia MacEvil. That’s who Connors is.
Only the gag in her mouth kept her from laughing aloud. The things you think about when you’re about to die.
She tried to make her body cooperate with Connors, to minimize the damage from the knife. What did they call the woman in the Blood, Sweat & Tears song? Saffi recited the lyrics in her head. Evil woman-child.
As Connors pulled her closer to the edge of the brush wall surrounding the mansion, the knife tip drew more blood. Saffi winced, involuntarily. Should have been evil-woman-
bitch. Okay, sorry, God. It doesn’t rhyme with the song and I shouldn’t use the b-word. Besides, prayer works better than swearing. Right, Lord?
Saffi recited every promise of God from the Bible she could remember. As she finished, lightning lit up the sky around them. The devil got YOU, Saffi. What-cha goin’ ta do?
The answer came in a flash of its own — faith requires action.
The hurricane winds pushed the thunderstorm closer. Lightning struck again, this time with a trinity of bolts that streaked downward and converged at the highest point on the mansion’s roof.
Saffi felt her hair rise up on end. The crack of thunder was an immediate and terrifying reminder of the power of the storm. In spite of her body’s reaction, Saffi maintained her presence of mind. Before the flash of lightning completely faded away, she ever so slightly shifted her weight to her left leg. Then, in one explosive movement, she raised her right leg and thrust her heel against Connors’ right knee. Connors howled and released her.
Off balance, Saffi tumbled sideways. She hit the ground. Hard. Stunned, she gasped trying to find some air. Her vision dimmed, but not before she saw the shadows swirling overhead. As consciousness retreated, the demons coalesced above her. They pressed down, enveloping her in their darkness. The cacophony of wind and rain, and Kat’s pain-filled howling, fled far away. One final crack of thunder punctuated the unyielding darkness.
CHAPTER NINETY-ONE
Kat cursed loudly, released Saffi, and grabbed her right knee. Jim tried to keep his aim steady. It didn’t help that the wind was now hurricane force and the rain had reached the level of a street gang beatdown. Kat moved as the pistol boomed. Jim missed. He tried to steady himself for a second shot, but Kat didn’t give him another chance. She dropped to the ground and rolled into the brush. The entire wall of brush shook in the wind. He squinted through the raindrops watching for a glimpse of Kat. Nothing.
He fired seven more shots in a desperate attempt to wound or kill someone he could not see. Between the last two shots he heard Saffi moan and he stopped shooting. He lowered his pistol, knelt down, and helped her sit up. Her eyes opened, but they would not focus. She looked as if she were going to pass out. Instead, she threw up, spewing what little remained in her stomach on Jim. She dry-heaved several times and finally slumped against Jim’s chest.
“Sorry,” she whispered. “Did you get her?”
“I don’t know. Can you stand?”
“Maybe. I can try.”
Jim put his left arm around her and steadied her with his right hand. He pushed himself up, lifting Saffi with him. His knee balked at the movement, but he pushed harder, ignoring its protest.
Once they were both up, he held her for a minute until it felt as if she could stand on her own. The hurricane-force gusts made it difficult for the both of them. When he was sure she would not fall, he turned her around and untied her hands.
“I have to go after her,” he said.
“I know.”
She turned back around and they stood there a moment, looking at each other.
“Sorry about the puke,” Saffi said.
“Yeah, I hate it when that happens.” Jim replied as a brief smile appeared on his face. “At least it didn’t start a chain reaction. Can you walk?”
“I can walk.”
She looked at Jim and he saw strength and determination in her gaze.
“We have to stop her,” she said.
“I have to stop her. You need to get out of here and get us some help. Get Carl some help. If he’s even alive. Think you can drive?”
“I can drive.”
Jim pulled the Viper’s fob and the gate key from his pocket. He put the fob and the key in Saffi’s hand.
“Jim ...” Saffi looked up into his eyes.
Deep-blue, Atlantic Ocean eyes.
“Your uncle. Someone ran us off the road. The car flipped. He didn’t make it.”
Even in the darkness, with the rain beating against her face, Jim saw Saffi’s tears. He closed his eyes for a moment. The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away. Uncle Jack had told him that when Jim’s father had died. Say hi to Dad for me, Uncle Jack.
Jim opened his eyes and looked at Saffi.
“Get out of here and get us some help.”
“She’s dangerous, Jim. No, she’s more than dangerous. She’s evil. And she’s not alone.”
“Well, her two pals are out of action. I’d say she is pretty much on her own now.”
“She has others, Jim. I saw them. I know you’re a skeptic, but it’s real, Jim. I saw them.”
“You got hit in the head. You were dizzy. You puked. Likely a concussion.”
Saffi bowed her head and took a deep breath. She took hold of Jim’s wrists and looked him directly in the eye.
“Look. You need to understand this. Yes, I got a bump on my head. Maybe even a concussion. That has nothing to do with what I saw. They were all around you. Maybe you couldn’t see them, but I’ll bet you felt them. Didn’t you?”
Yeah, he had felt something. But he wasn’t ready to admit to Saffi, or to himself, that it was anything more than the normal mood swings that come with excess adrenaline, stress, and just being in a truly crappy situation.
“They want you, Jim,” Saffi continued. “She wants you.”
“It doesn’t matter. The truth is I want her. Probably more than she wants me. I want her locked up in a prison cell, and if Carl dies, I want to watch them stick a needle in her arm. Now you need to get out of here and get us some help. Get going. I’ll be okay.”
Saffi nodded. She let go of Jim’s wrists and turned away. She pushed through the wind until she reached the Viper. She opened the driver’s door and looked back at Jim. He smiled grimly as he raised his hand, then he turned and crashed through the tangled vegetation.
***
Baalzaric dispatched a horde of demonic agents to stop the woman who had injured Kat. Although everything appeared to be unraveling, Baalzaric was still confident. He had Demore surrounded and isolated. He was one man. Alone. The cop had no prayer covering, and no rescue could possibly arrive in time. It would be over soon and the gates of Hell would prevail.
CHAPTER NINETY-TWO
Jim pushed his way through the brush. Above him, the tops of the trees flailed at the bottoms of rain-heavy clouds. Unfortunately, the night vision goggles were back in the mansion. His training, both in the Marines and with the Highway Patrol, taught him not to stare or focus too long at one point in the dark, so Jim kept his eyes moving as he picked his way through the thick brush. In the darkness, he realized that he was not alone.
He saw them from the corners of his eyes. Shadows. Not the type of shadows you would see if the moon were out. These were darker. Blacker than the surrounding night. Dozens of them stalked the air around him. If Jim hadn’t known better, he would have thought he was hallucinating. Even more disturbing than the shadows were the occasional glimpses of fiery red eyes that blazed out of the darkness. If he was not hallucinating, and if he was not losing his mind, then Saffi was right. Even faced with the evidence of his own eyes, Jim did not want to believe it. After all, if he started believing in demons, what was next? Witches? Warlocks? Little green men from Mars?
The sense of oppression and depression returned. Jim stopped and stood still. His utility belt, with the extra magazines, lay somewhere back in the mansion. He had fired how many shots? He resisted the temptation to release the magazine and count them. If he dropped it in the dark woods, he might not find it again. He still had his backup weapon. Kat’s idiots had missed his ankle holster, so he was not as naked as he felt.
He pushed forward in the darkness, stepping carefully, using his hands and arms to protect his face. The brush closed in tighter, forcing him to use his entire body to propel himself forward. Limbs and branches held on to him like a thousand bony fingers. Red eyes watched him, their hatred palpable. Jim pushed harder until the clinging vegetation released its grip and he stumbled into the clearing.
***
Kat watched the demons pour into the clearing behind Demore. Her allies. Her companions. Her servants. They were ready for Demore. No. More than that. They’re hungry for him.
A slight break in the cloud cover allowed a tiny sliver of light to push through the darkness. Kat had a clear view of Demore. He had a weapon in his hand as he came into the clearing. It remained eerily calm, unaffected by the hurricane-force winds that stirred the sky above. She watched Demore regain his footing after stumbling out of the brush. He stood still for a moment and then looked directly at her.
“I can be everything you’ve ever wanted,” she said. “Come to me.”
Jim lifted his pistol and pointed it at Kat as he began walking toward her.
“It’s over, Kat,” he said. “You’re done.”
Kat smiled. No, foolish man. I am not done, and it certainly is not over.
CHAPTER NINETY-THREE
Lit by the faint moonlight, even in the torn and wet sundress, Kat looked stunning.
The edge of the pool was halfway across the clearing, but Jim could see the sundress clinging to her figure like a full body tattoo. Her eyes glowed with an unnatural brightness. Given the circumstances, he knew he had no business feeling aroused, yet he was. The unmistakable evidence rising up to betray him.
He had told Kat it was over, but instead of agreeing with him, or even trying to flee, she simply backed up until she was standing in the shallow water at the edge of the pool.
“Come and take me,” she said.
Her voice was soft and rich. Thick with unadulterated seduction.
“The only place I am going to take you is to jail, Ms. Connors.”
Jim walked toward her. Slowly. Cautiously. The clearing was full of shadows. They surrounded him, and as Jim glanced around, he could see they were also in the air above him. He felt their darkness.
Red eyes, filled with hate and anticipation, appeared and disappeared like pairs of hell-spawned fireflies.
The Demon Pool Page 36