“The doorman didn’t even look at me. I just walked right past him.”
Typical. Well, someone’s not getting a Christmas tip.
“And the wards?”
Her eyes moved rapidly from side to side. “I-I don’t know what that means…”
“Mystic wards, to keep uninvited guests out.” I held the gun steady, already feeling rage boiling inside me.
“Please! I didn’t know where to go! She told me you would help!”
“Who?”
“C-Ca—”
“Cassandra?” I finished.
Dakota nodded.
Well…that certainly made things more interesting. Cassie’s a kooky old broad, but she’s pretty skilled with divination.
“She use the tarot cards on you?”
Again, Dakota nodded in the affirmative.
“Damn. Guess that means we’re stuck together.” I slid the gun into the holster. I’d known Cassie a long time and I’d learned it was best not to go against her card readings. If they told her to send this girl to me for help, I didn’t have much choice in the matter.
Now that the weapon was restrained, Dakota relaxed just a little. She studied my face from her sitting position in the bed. “The tarot reading was really weird. Cassandra said I was in danger. She said you were the only one who could help me.”
I sighed. Dammit, Cassie, you just had to make things complicated. I don’t like pro bono work unless it’s for a friend or to repay a debt. But as I looked at Dakota, I could tell the girl was scared out of her wits. She looked exhausted—probably hungry as well.
“Listen, why don’t you take a shower? I’ll fix you somethin’ to eat and then we can sit down and talk about it, okay?”
Dakota’s face started to brighten. “I think I’d like that.”
“Shower’s in there.” I pointed to the adjoining bathroom. “When you’re done, there are some clothes in the closet you can borrow.”
She gave a nod and climbed out of bed, walking slowly across the room towards the bathroom. I sighed and returned to the front foyer, removing my trench coat and hanging it up in the closet.
The sound of the shower started up. I went into my office, taking off the suit jacket and draping it over the back of my chair, then loosening and removing my tie and laying it over the jacket. As I stood there in the office and produced a cigarette from the metal case, I thought about Cassandra.
I didn’t quite like the idea of her sending someone over to my place without so much as a text message. Would it really hurt the cryptic old bitch to pick up the damn phone before giving out my address to every stray in the tri-state area?
I sighed and lit the cigarette. Better to focus on the problem at hand. I had a body near the border with his eyes burned out of his skull, and Cassie saw some connection between me and Dakota. Coincidence?
Doubtful. I took the cigarette from my mouth and walked from my office, making sure to close the door first (don’t want this stray to think she’s got unfettered access to my place), through the living room and adjoining dining room.
A tall, wooden liquor cabinet was pushed up against the wall right near the entrance to the kitchen. With the cigarette held between my lips, I took a tumbler glass from the shelf and flipped it right-side-up, then poured some eighteen-year Laphroaig. I removed the cigarette and exhaled before tossing back the scotch. The smoky, single-malt had a nice burn to it as it moved down my throat. I set the glass down and looked at the bottle. Eighteen years. Scotch just wasn’t worth drinking unless it was old enough to disappoint its parents.
A good drink was necessary given the shit that had just been dropped in my lap. I listened carefully, and could still hear the shower running. I had promised her something to eat, so supposed I should get on that. Crossing into the kitchen, I went straight to the stove and took a small saucepan hanging from the rack above. After filling it with water, I set it on the stove and turned on the flame.
I opened the pantry beside the stove and looked around before grabbing a blue box of Kraft Macaroni and Cheese and set it on the counter. Soon as the water started to boil, I poured the pasta into the saucepan and let it cook.
Hey, don’t judge me about the mac and cheese. It may not be Kobe beef, but it’s damn tasty. Besides, I don’t pull out the gourmet cooking for someone I just met. I finished the cigarette, putting it out in a tray on the counter, and focused on preparations.
Once the mac and cheese was prepared, I spooned it into a bowl, grabbed a spoon from the drawer, and carried it out the kitchen, setting it on the dining room table. The shower had stopped, and a few moments later, I saw Dakota emerge from the hall connecting the bedroom to the living room.
She’d dressed in a pair of gray sweat pants and a white T-shirt with the Chicago flag emblazoned on the front—two thin, light-blue lines at the top and bottom of the flag with four red stars set against a white background. Both items were from Celeste’s collection of lounge clothes for when she stayed over. Dakota’s hair was still damp, and she patted it with a white towel.
One thing was for certain, though—the girl looked better now that she’d had a chance to relax a little. I motioned to the table. “Got your food ready.”
“Thanks.”
Dakota took a seat at the table and set the towel on the surface. I gave her a glare she didn’t notice. Would it kill you to use a hamper? As she picked up the spoon and dug into her food, I grabbed the towel and took it to the laundry room, tossing it on top of the washing machine.
Once returning to the dining room, I poured myself another scotch and took a seat across from her. She didn’t even look up to acknowledge me, just focused on wolfing down the mac and cheese.
“I haven’t had this since I was a kid,” she said.
Watching her, I sipped the scotch. At the speed she was eating, I was afraid she’d start gnawing on the bowl once the food was gone. I lit a fresh cigarette and waited until I heard the spoon clinking against the bottom of the glass. She dug around the bowl for any stray pieces of macaroni she had missed, then left the spoon resting inside and gave a contented sigh.
“That was…great. Thanks again.”
“No problem. But we got more important things to talk about,” I said. “I wanna know just exactly why Cassie sent you to see me. And I also wanna know why I’m picking up all sorts of weird vibes from you.”
Dakota stared at me. No…judging from the position of her eyes, it looked like she was staring at my arm. I glanced down to the revolver still holstered there. She must’ve been so distracted by her hunger that she didn’t see it when she came in here. And now, her eyes were filled with fear.
“Do you…do you really need to wear that right now?”
“Does it make you nervous?” I asked as I exhaled smoke from my nostrils.
“Yeah, a little.”
“Good, ’cause it makes me feel safe. And given how weird this day’s been so far, I like having a little security.” I drew on the cigarette again and leaned back in my chair. “So, talk to me, Dakota Reed. Tell me what brings you to my doorstep and why I feel like I gotta step carefully around you.”
Her shoulders tightened, and she slouched. Her hands were folded on the table and she stared down at them, not risking a look up. She remained like that—practically frozen in position—for several moments while I just alternated between smoking my cigarette and sipping my scotch. I kept a careful eye on her, patiently waiting for my curiosity to be sated.
Finally, she started to tell the story.
7
“I’m from Indianapolis,” she began. “I started attending Northwestern two years ago. My family was—is—pretty religious. So when I started attending school, I looked for Christian groups on campus. There was one that really grabbed my interest.”
I listened as Dakota began her story. Most of the lead-up didn’t impress me too much, but I decided to let her continue rather than interrupting. Maybe if she felt more at ease, I would, too.
“It wasn’t a very large group. There were only five of us: me, Chelsea, Darlene, Lynn, and Rachel. We were called Christians With Conscience. A lot of groups have gotten a bit too focused on the political side of things—gay marriage, abortion, school prayer. It’s just divisive and it doesn’t help at all.”
I took a sip of the scotch to hide my sneer. Wasn’t much for the holy roller crowd myself. Sure, I had some friends in the clergy, but I’d rubbed shoulders with emissaries of both Heaven and Hell. And one thing they all have in common? They’re a bunch of pompous jackasses.
And I should know—we can smell our own.
Dakota scoffed. “Of course, we didn’t actually do much other than get together for Bible study and group prayer. Did some volunteer work, but that was about it. And then one day, we were at this fundraising event with a bunch of other Christian groups, trying to raise money for the poor. And there was a man there. There was something…different about him. It’s a little hard to explain…”
My eyebrows rose in interest. “Try.”
“Well, he was old. Not old old. But maybe fifty or so. He had this kind of…attraction to him. I don’t mean like, sexual attraction or anything like that. But he was just…magnetic. Interesting. He started talking to us and…I can’t even remember what it was he said. But we were hooked on his every word.”
Sounded like some kind of magic user. Someone who could entrance people with their voice or eyes. It was a useful trick—I’d managed to use it myself a few times. But using it on more than one person at a time is more difficult.
“We told him about our group and he asked if he could come to one of our meetings some time.” She paused and clasped her hands together, interlocking her fingers. “We were so surprised that he wanted to come to one of our little meetings. So stupid now that I think about it…”
Another moment of hesitation. I watched Dakota’s hands, noticing how tightly she locked them together. For my part, I relaxed in my chair and listened, drawing on the cigarette as she continued to speak.
“Over the next few months, he’d come to several of our meetings. Wouldn’t even say anything. He’d just sit there and listen with a smile on his face. We often asked him to lead us in prayer, but he refused so many times. Said it wasn’t his place, that he was just an observer. But over time, we’d beg him to do it, and he finally started to give in.”
Of course he did. Ingratiate yourself with the group first. Make yourself seem humble. Gain everyone’s trust, and as you exert more control, you make them think it was their idea. Pretty smart con, had to give the guy that.
“It went on like that for about a year or so. We’d have weekly meetings and he’d turn up once a month. As he started participating more and more in the group, he’d explain things to us. Tell us about how there was more to Heaven and Hell than the church was willing to tell—or even knew about.”
“What’d he tell you?” I asked. First thing I’d said since she started the story.
“He told us that when Lucifer rebelled, the war never really ended. Instead, it’s been in a kind of stalemate for eons,” said Dakota.
Okay, now that caught my attention. Sounded like more than your run-of-the-mill evangelist conman. This was a guy who definitely had some knowledge in his head, and that interested me.
“To fight this war, he said God needed us. Needed us to be warriors for the cause. And, at first, we were scared about joining him. We didn’t know what he wanted us to do. But he said that could wait. That we’d have time to think it over.
“And then, he left. We didn’t see him again for months. During those meetings, we’d sit there in silence, just praying. Wondering if we had what it took to be part of his plan. After some time passed, the Minister returned and we said we were willing to join him.
“There was just one catch—we couldn’t begin our training there. We had to go somewhere else. Somewhere secluded so we wouldn’t be disturbed.”
Dakota’s voice caught in her throat. Her hands were clutched so tightly, they started to go pale. I finished the scotch and set the empty glass on the table.
“What happened after that?” I asked.
“It was crazy. We should’ve said no. I wanted to say no. But when I tried, I just couldn’t. I couldn’t stop myself from going along with him. None of us could. He took us to an old farm. Somewhere out in the middle of nowhere. A few more months passed, with us praying and fasting and preparing. And then the time came—the time to fulfill our destiny.
“Darlene was the first chosen. We weren’t allowed to be present for it. The Minister took her into the barn for the ritual. There was a bright light—we could see it from the house. And then all we could hear were her screams.”
She paused her story and looked down. I set my cigarette in the ashtray and stood, entering the kitchen to fetch her some water. I took a glass from the cupboard and filled it from the dispenser attached to the refrigerator. When I returned to set the glass in front of her, Dakota was dabbing her eyes with a napkin.
“Thank you,” she said as she took the glass and slowly sipped the liquid.
I settled back into my chair and resumed smoking, watching, and waiting for her to continue the story. A few moments of silence passed so she could regain her composure, and then she continued.
“We never saw her again. When we asked the Minister about Darlene, he got angry. In those moments, there was some clarity. Like some…I dunno, switch or something was being flipped in our heads. We started to ask more and more questions and he would hit one of us. The others would pretty much stop talking after that. He’d lock us in the cellar for a day or so.
“When he came back again, he told us that Darlene had to go. That she was doing important work for the cause. Serving the Lord. And then, things went back to normal for a time.”
Dakota furrowed her brow, as if she was confused by her own story.
“It’s…it’s weird. I didn’t really think of Darlene at all after that. I just…I got over her being gone. Like it was some distant past memory, even though it just happened.”
Tendrils of smoke slowly twirled past my open lips, filling the space between Dakota and myself, my crimson eyes locked on her. Magic depends on clear purpose and state of mind. Your subconscious has to be utterly focused on your desired outcome. Emotions could fuck that up. That’d explain why this Minister couldn’t maintain his influence until after he’d calmed down.
“Keep going,” I told her.
“Like I said, things went back to normal. We focused on studying scripture, mostly. More fasting, more praying. And then the Minister came up to me. He said he’d had a vision and that I’d been chosen. I was excited. But there was this part of me, deep in the back of my memory, that remembered Darlene. Screaming at me to fight back. But I couldn’t. The Minister was able to keep me calm and told me what a great honor this was. So I said okay.”
Her voice caught and dropped in volume. My cigarette had now burned down to the filter, so I crushed it out in the nearby ashtray and took another sip of scotch before I drew and lit a fresh one.
“Just like with Darlene, the Minister took me into the barn. He had me…” She paused, her hesitance growing. “Had me strip down. There was a circle on the ground, some sort of symbols drawn inside. I’d never seen them before.”
Sigils from the sound of it. But sigils could be used for just about anything. And they were used by just about anyone.
“He told me to lay down in the center of the circle and I did. He…painted on me.” Her hand went to her chest and she slowly drew a circle over her torso with her finger to demonstrate. “It was red…warm, dark, red paint.”
I didn’t vocalize it, but my thoughts screamed at me—lady, that wasn’t paint.
“There were candles lit all around the circle. He started to chant…I don’t know what he was saying. But then there was this bright light, just like with Darlene. I felt like there was someone on top of me. Like…having…you know—with me. Rough, uncaring.
Like I was beneath him.”
“The Minister?” I asked.
“I…don’t know. There was no one else in the barn, and the door was locked from the inside. But it was so bright, I couldn’t see anything. And it felt like there was someone else in there with us.”
A chill crept up my spine. There was a sense of familiarity about Dakota’s story. And I was starting to understand just why Cassie sent her to see me.
“I remember pain. Like, the worst pain I’d ever felt in my life. And then there was nothing,” said Dakota. “The next thing I remember was waking up a week later. The girls were with me. They were taking care of me, brushing my hair, bathing me, telling me how lucky I was to be chosen. And then the Minister came in. But this time, it was different. When he spoke to me, I felt like I did after Darlene. Like I could see the truth behind his words. So, after a few days of regaining my strength, I left.
“I tried to run away. Someone found me, by the side of the road. He said he’d give me a ride. But then once I got inside, he tried to force himself on me. And…something happened…”
I had to grab the cigarette from my lips before it fell onto my lap. Resting it on the edge of the ashtray, I threw back what was left of the scotch and got up to refill the glass. I could feel Dakota’s eyes following me as I poured the Laphroaig.
“Robert Donley.” I took a quick swig of the drink. “His name was Robert Donley.”
“How’d you…? He said his name was Robert, but he never told me his last name,” she said.
With the glass in one hand and the bottle in the other, I returned to the table and set them both on the surface in front of me. “None of this is a coincidence. What happened to Donley was something burned his soul from his body.”
Dakota’s eyes grew big as saucers and she covered her open mouth. “Wh-what?”
I threw back the drink and dragged on the cigarette as I refilled. “The ritual? What happened to Darlene? What you did to Donley? I think I know what it all means.”
“What I did—no, I didn’t do anything to him!” she protested. “I don’t know how that happened, but it wasn’t me!”
Devil's Due (Luther Cross Book 1) Page 4