Serpent's Sacrifice (The Vigilantes Book 1)

by Trish Heinrich

  “Let me go! She’s my mama!”

  The officer didn’t say anything. He just carried her, kicking and screaming, out of the diner and to a waiting patrol car. She would’ve hit him with her cast, but it was caught under the man’s arm. The officer plopped her in the back seat, where Lionel and Marco were waiting, and walked back to the diner without a word.

  Alice’s chest heaved uncontrollably, her body wet with sweat and tears. She gulped air, only to expel it with a grunting sob. Though she wanted desperately to stop crying so hard, her body wouldn’t listen. Only when Marco hugged her tight was she able to start breathing a little easier.

  “You got that book?” Marco asked Lionel.

  Lionel frowned, and then nodded, taking a battered paperback out of his back pocket. There was an exaggerated drawing of a man in a white hat with two guns pointing out from the cover, his face set in a righteous frown. It was the kind of book Lionel loved to read, and Marco loved to make fun of, but today, none of that mattered.

  As Marco started to read, Alice leaned her head on his bony shoulder. After a few minutes her tears began to dry up, until only a little hiccup and a flushed face remained. The story wasn’t good, and none of them, not even Lionel, seemed to enjoy it — but it distracted all of them just enough to be able to sit and wait. They didn’t notice the daylight disappearing or the strange car that arrived to take a large black bag from the diner.

  When Marco’s voice started to get hoarse, the same policeman who had put Alice in the car peered in. “You boys her brothers?”

  “No...friends,” Lionel said.

  “Should get you kids home.”

  “What about my mama?” Alice asked, her voice small and quiet.

  The policeman scratched his head. “Honey, you want me to call your daddy?”

  Alice started to cry again.

  “You can take her to my house. We’re neighbors,” Marco said.

  The policeman nodded, seeming relieved that someone, even a kid, was taking care of the grieving child.

  Alice stared out the window at the houses of her neighborhood. She thought about all the mothers that were calling children to tables laden with warm food, or soothing scrapes and bruised hearts. She wondered how many of them knew how lucky they were. Had she?

  Would there be stories and kisses tonight? Would she wake up soon and her mother be in the kitchen making toast and coffee, trying so hard to make sure all of it was perfect before her father came down?

  When they got to Marco’s front door, his father opened it in a panic and stared at the Policeman. The kids walked past him in shocked silence as the officer told Mr. Mayer what had happened. Mrs. Mayer ran out of the kitchen, a steady stream of angry Italian coming from her bow-shaped mouth, but she was silenced by one look at Alice’s tear streaked face.

  “Bella Alice, what happened?” she asked.

  “Ma—” Marco said.

  Mr. Mayer closed the door and sighed. “Ah, Alice...”

  And for the first time in her life, she knew what it was like to have a father hug and hold her while she cried.

  CHAPTER THREE

  The Mayers insisted that she sleep over, and since Alice couldn’t bear the thought of going home without her Mother’s comforting presence, she readily agreed. The one thing she hadn’t considered was how her father would feel about that.

  Lionel had just gotten there, and the boys were trying to get Alice to eat some breakfast, when a hard knock shook the door.

  “I’m here for my daughter,” said a voice that was rough and harsh.

  Alice felt her stomach drop, the small bite of toast turning sour in her mouth. Marco grabbed her hand and Lionel stood up, as if he would stop her father from taking her home.

  Her father came into the kitchen, clutching a tattered hat. His eyes were redder than usual and Alice fleetingly thought that maybe he had been crying.

  Why? He hated her.

  “Alice,” he said, his hands crumpling his hat convulsively. “We need to go home. Your Aunt Diana is on her way. She’ll be here tonight.”

  “Sir,” Lionel said, standing up straighter, “could we come over and keep Alice company until then?”

  Her father clenched his large stubbly jaw, fat lips pursing, and Alice felt her whole body tense with dread. She knew that look.

  “It’s okay,” she said to Lionel, letting go of Marco’s hand. “I’ll see you later.”

  Lionel’s tall body stiffened, and his square hands clenched as he stared at Mr. Seymour. Alice grabbed one of those hands and squeezed, trying to make him stop before her father lost all patience.

  “We’ll be here all day,” Marco said, as they walked to the door. “If you need us.”

  “She’ll be too busy to play with you,” her father said, his voice harsher toward Marco than anyone else.

  Once outside, her father grabbed her shoulder too tight and she winced.

  “You too good to come home? Huh?”

  “N-no, sir.”

  “I have to hear about your mother from some cop, and then I have to come home and make my own dinner, wondering where the hell you got to!”

  He jerked the front door open and pushed her inside. The rant continued as he went to the fridge and opened a cheap beer. Alice felt her stomach begin to twist, realizing that now that her mother was gone, she was the only one left for him to lash out against. Tears burned her eyes again as she looked around. It felt as if all the color had been drained from the house and all that was left had been reduced to gray and brown. But, in that moment, a bright spot of color caught her eye and Alice looked up at her mother’s old weekend hat, hanging up by the entry mirror. A smile tugged at her small mouth, and she reached up to touch the soft fabric, the brittleness of the flower.

  “You listening to me, girl!”

  She jumped. “Yes, sir.”

  His eyes caught sight of the hat, then the patched coat hanging next to it. It was like watching a balloon deflate, as the anger left him. He became so sad and pathetic that Alice was surprised to feel pity for the man. He reached out and caressed her mother’s coat. He took it gently off the rack, and without another word, sat in his favorite chair. Alice stared at him, wondering if it was safe to leave or if he would scream at her for some reason that she couldn’t think of. After many minutes passed, and he just sat there, hugging the coat, Alice crept upstairs.

  “Alice!”

  The voice was harsh and too loud. She bolted up, disoriented in the dark, feeling the gentle slap of fabric against her face.

  Alice had wandered into her parent’s bedroom after changing into some clean clothes. The emptiness of the room was somehow proof that her mother was never coming home and a hollow ache had taken root. Craving some kind of closeness with her mother, she’d crawled inside the closet and cried herself to sleep, surrounded by the faint smell of her mother’s perfume on the clothes she would never wear again.

  “Alice! Where are you, lazy girl!”

  He sounded drunk and angry, she knew what that meant.

  With shaking hands, Alice grabbed for the closet door to slowly close it, but she misjudged in her panic, pushing it open against the wall instead. Her father must’ve been just outside, because he came barreling in, his eyes wild.

  “You hiding from me?”

  “N-no sir,” she said, trying not to scoot back.

  “Get downstairs! I’m hungry.”

  Without thinking, Alice leaned on her broken arm to help herself up. The pain was unexpected and she whimpered.

  “That’s what you get for going anywhere with that wop! But we’ll fix that, yes, we will. If I ever catch you over there again, I’ll-”

  “You can’t do that!”

  Alice clapped her hands to her mouth, blue eyes wide, as she saw her father’s face change from anger to blind fury. His meaty hand swung toward her face with such force she was knocked back into the wall, a coppery taste bursting in her mouth. On instinct, Alice raised her arms to cover her head
just as her father swung at her again, this time hitting her cast. She felt a sharp twinge of pain and cried out.

  “Your mother never listened,” he said, and Alice could hear the clink of his belt buckle as he loosened it. “Let you do whatever the hell you wanted. Poor little friendless girl!”

  The belt fell across her small back. Alice pressed her hands to her mouth to try and stifle the scream. It would only encourage her father more.

  “Thought you needed any kind of friends, as long as they were nice!”

  The last word was punctuated with another lash, her back starting to feel aflame.

  “Didn’t think about the influence of those lazy—” another “—sons of bitches!” and another.

  Alice couldn’t hold back the cries of pain as her father’s belt fell again and again.

  “Shut it! I wouldn’t have to do this if you’d just—”

  “What?” said a voice. “What should a little girl do to make her father stop beating her?”

  Alice dared to look between her fingers to see who would be brave enough to interrupt her father in the midst of this, but the only other person in the room was her father. His red eyes darted around, body bent in anticipation of a fight.

  “You won’t find me in there,” the voice laughed. “Afraid? You lazy son of a bitch?”

  Her father let out a primal growl and ran down the stairs, shouting obscenities to the air.

  At first, Alice couldn’t make her body move. What if it was nobody, a trick, and her father caught her trying to spy on him? What if he defeated whoever it was, and saw her taking delight in someone trying to stop him?

  But then she wondered if the person might be here to help. What if it was her Aunt Diana? What if it was the police? If they saw her, maybe they would take her away and she’d be safe.

  She stumbled to the door and heard her father’s clomping steps as he walked into the living room.

  “What the hell are you doing here?”

  The belt whipped through the air, but no one shouted.

  In fact, it was her father who yelped.

  “What are you...? No! Stop it!” Her father sounded terrified.

  Alice wasn’t at all sure she wanted to know who or what could make her father sound that scared, but, in the end, curiosity was stronger than fear.

  She crept out onto the top step and peeked between the bars.

  Her father fell onto his back as someone smaller than an adult, and thin, advanced on him. A second stranger stood to the side, hands clenched into fists. Their faces were hidden by stocking caps with eye holes cut out, but Alice could still swear she knew them.

  “Leave her alone! Don’t touch her again!” said the first stranger, the voice unmistakably male, on the cusp of adulthood.

  It was then that Alice saw black snake-like tendrils crawling on the ground, seeming to come from the masked person’s outstretched hands. She squeaked in fear and tried to scoot back, but slipped in her haste and tumbled down the stairs. Her head hit the final step with a hard bang, bright spots piercing her vision.

  When she opened her eyes, a face masked in a stocking cap leaned over her. She moaned, trying to raise her good hand to push them away, but her arms felt heavy.

  “Is she alright?” the first boy asked the second.

  “I think-”

  The masked boy in front of her fell to his knees from a blow to the head by her father, who now loomed over her.

  Alice wanted to run, but couldn’t seem to make her limbs move. All she could manage was to curl onto her side.

  “You little shits,” her father hissed. “Who the hell—”

  The air was rent by a scream of such terror that it pierced through the fog of Alice’s brain and made her heart jump.

  “No, stop! Please...please!” Now her father was crying, great screaming sobs. “Stop! God...please!”

  The masked boy that her father had just hit stood up, hand to his head.

  He ran toward the other masked boy. “That’s enough!”

  “Do you know what he was going to do to her?” said the first boy. “What he’s like?”

  “Yes, but you have to stop!”

  “No! He deserves to suffer! I can make him...I can...I could save her, forever.”

  Alice slowly raised her head, feeling a sticky substance in her hair that oozed onto her ear. Her vision was cloudy, but she could just make out the two people. They were dressed in cut-off shorts and one wore a t-shirt and old converse shoes without socks. The other wore a button-up shirt with the bottom button in the wrong hole.

  Alice blinked and noticed that the tendrils were now crawling all over her father, who screamed like the devils of hell were tormenting him.

  In the back of her mind, Alice knew she should be horrified, but she just couldn’t seem to care.

  It was then that the taller of the two boys turned and Alice could see shocks of blond hair sticking out from the stocking cap that had been knocked askew when her father hit him.

  “Lionel?” she whispered and shook her head.

  No, that was crazy! What would Lionel and...?

  “Mar...”

  The tall one stopped and yanked on the other one. “I mean it...you have to stop!”

  “...I can’t...”

  The tall one hesitated, then hit the shorter one, knocking him to the ground.

  The tendrils disappeared, and her father’s cries died down to whimpers as he curled into a ball.

  The tallest one pulled her father up by his shirt front and hit him. “You come near her again and I’ll let him finish you.”

  Her father sobbed something, then half-ran, half-crawled out the front door, not bothering to close it.

  “Please, take me with you,” she whispered, her mind starting to succumb to the fog. “Take me away, please, please, please...”

  Her eyes closed and she could feel a gentle, feverishly warm hand caress her hair.

  “It’s okay,” the voice of the shorter boy crooned. “You’re safe. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

  As much as she wanted to, Alice couldn’t bring herself to believe him.

  “We have to get out of here!” the second boy said.

  “But, we can’t leave her like this.”

  “I think a car just pulled up. C’mon! We can’t get caught!”

  “I’m sorry,” the first boy said, his hand on her cheek. “You’re safe now.”

  Alice tried to speak, but a strange fatigue began to overcome her. Just before she fell asleep, soft lips kissed her forehead and she sighed.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Alice didn’t know what happened when her aunt and uncle came into the house and saw her unconscious. She only knew she woke up in her bed, a doctor taking her pulse.

  It felt strange to be tucked in, safe and warm, when she’d just been so terrified. Her Aunt Diana, a woman she had almost no memory of, was there with warm milk and a sandwich, in case she was hungry.

  Alice wasn’t. She wanted to ask if her aunt had seen two boys running from the house, but they had been so frightened of discovery that she had kept what happened to herself.

  “You’re safe now,” Aunt Diana had said, a strange echo of what the boys had promised.

  A shaky smile appeared on Alice’s lips and she allowed herself to drift off to sleep, but it was by no means restful. Nightmares, so real that Alice forgot she was dreaming, made her cry and scream. She was certain that her father’s hot smelly breath was on her face, his hands dragging her away.

  A gentle voice roused her from the nightmares.

  “Mama?” Alice asked.

  But when her eyes focused, it was her aunt’s face she saw and her strong arms that held Alice.

  In the morning, her Uncle Logan, a scruffy-looking man with gentle brown eyes and an unruly mop of curly brown hair, was making pancakes in the kitchen.

  “Good morning,” he said, a grin on his wide mouth showing straight white teeth. “Do you like jam or syrup on your pancakes?”
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br />   Alice felt herself flinch under his gaze and immediately regretted it. His square face softened, and he squatted down to her height.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered, a sudden mischievous glint appearing in his eyes. “I won’t tell if you want both.”

  A smile tried to tug her mouth up, but Alice bit her lower lip instead and nodded.

  “Alright...” He turned back to the stove and flipped the two golden pancakes on her mother’s ancient griddle.

  Aunt Diana breezed in then and kissed her husband. Alice stared at the love that shone in their eyes as the kiss ended, a sudden jealousy piercing her heart.

  Why couldn’t Mama be loved like that?

  “Coffee is done,” Uncle Logan said.

  “Thank you.” Aunt Diana kissed him again.

  In a few moments, all three of them sat around the old scarred kitchen table, a feast of bacon, pancakes, and juice set out.

  “I see you have a climbing tree out back,” Uncle Logan said.

  Alice nodded as she shoved pancakes in her mouth.

  “I used to have one when I was a boy. I’d hide treasures in it.”

  Alice nodded again, not looking him in the eye. She could feel her aunt and uncle exchange glances, and for a few minutes there was a thick uncomfortable silence around them.

  “I was thinking,” Aunt Diana said. “Maybe we could go for a drive today? Would you like that?”

  Alice shrugged, not sure what the point would be. What was there to see around Park Side?

  “Or is there something you’d like to do?”

  She was about to shrug again, when it hit her.

  “I want to see my friends.”

  Aunt Diana smiled. “Of course, would you like me to drive you?”

  Alice shook her head. “Marco is just next door, and Lionel...he’s never too far away.”

  “Alright, stay as long as you like, sweetheart.”

  Alice shoveled the food in her mouth as quick as possible and was out the door before her aunt could ask any more questions.