Legacy of Lost Souls [Spirit of Sage 1] (Siren Publishing Classic ManLove)

by Jools Louise

  They lay joined together until the water cooled and then washed up, spending plenty of time caressing each other and sharing soft kisses. Cuddling up under the covers, he fell asleep as the last few hours of night drifted away.

  When dawn broke, Cody left his partner, kissing his sleeping face gently, then went into Douglas’s room, seeing the boy was wide awake.

  “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Cody said, hugging his son, feeling the trembling and seeing the fear on the boy’s face. “I’ve been kicking ass for a long time, love,” he said, smiling. “Besides, I’m a jaguar. I’ve got a couple of extra weapons if needed.” He kissed Douglas on the cheek, patted his shoulder, then left to meet his crew.

  Chapter Seven:

  Marissa’s Final Shot

  Joe McKellar’s big red extended cab truck cruised quietly into the parking lot behind a casino not far from Landers, Wyoming. The place was owned by a family of Shoshone. Their tip-off about Marissa had come from the owners, who had helped out when Sage had been blasted into the dirt. As the truck pulled to a stop, one of the owners waited by a side entrance, waving them to park behind the building, so Joe complied, moving into a space hidden by a large wooden fence.

  “Joe,” the man greeted, shaking hands as the Two Spirit crew got out of the vehicle, stretching wearily from the long drive over winding back roads, wanting to keep their journey under wraps as much as possible.

  “Joshua,” Joe said, smiling at the man in his fifties, his straight black hair streaked with silver.

  “Marissa is playing blackjack,” Joshua Blackhawk said, nodding to each of the men in turn. “When I realized who she was, after Aaron sent out word she had helped your enemies, I kept her here.” He smiled, dark eyes hard with anger. “From what Aaron said, I’m only sorry I didn’t ply her with poison rather than liquor.”

  Cody stepped up, clasping Joshua’s hand firmly. “My friend, I’m sorry you had to deal with her at all. I want her to pay for what she’s done, but there’s no shame in admitting this is going to be tough. I want to hurt her too much—I don’t know how in control I’ll be when I see her.”

  Joshua returned the handshake, leaning closer. “I don’t think you’ll need to do much to her,” he said mysteriously. “Her own demons have done the job for you.” He patted Cody’s arm, then led the way through the side door into the casino.

  There were only a few people in the place at this time of day, just after lunchtime. The place began popping in the evenings, especially when they had the cabaret over the weekend. On a Friday, the fun would begin about nine o’clock that night. Today was Friday.

  The men headed through the kitchen, into the casino proper, filled with slot machines and gaming tables, the decor velvet drapes, plush carpets, and opulent fixtures. Flashing lights signaled which machines had the biggest prizes, and a restaurant could be seen through a double saloon door at the far side of the long, oak bar.

  Sitting alone at one of the blackjack tables, a woman sat, long blonde hair lying perfectly straight down her back, her figure slim, almost too slim. Cody felt the memories pouring in, saw the squat glass of what was probably bourbon travel to her lips, saw the slight grimace as she drank.

  He moved closer, stalking her on silent feet, sensing his crew fanning out behind him, moving into formation to prevent her running. Cody felt his hatred increase, felt his cat snarling to cut loose and rip the bitch apart. Then he saw her face, saw the misery there underneath the sheen of alcohol and paused, his jaguar throttling back.

  His shoulders sagged a little, but he remained on alert.

  “I knew you’d find me,” she said, her voice cracking a little, taking another sip of bourbon. The smell hit his sensitive nose hard, the sweetness turning his stomach. He’d always hated the stuff.

  “You didn’t run too far,” he said taking a seat opposite her, the croupier’s chair.

  “Why bother?” she replied wearily. Her mouth turned down in a bitter grimace. “I was never what you wanted, could never be that sweet, charming little wife you could share your life with.” She turned her head, pale blue eyes an icy blue, deep lines etched into her skin, looking fifteen years older than she was beneath the perfect makeup. “You found Douglas?” she asked, slugging back the rest of the bourbon, then filling the glass again.

  “I found Douglas and I found Ethan, too,” he answered, tone hard with anger.

  She flinched, frowning, then paled even more. “Ethan,” she whispered. “My beautiful little boy.” Cody stared at her, unable to believe she would say that, given everything she’d done. “I wanted to hurt you, and I found a way through him, didn’t I? Every time I looked in his eyes I saw you, and I couldn’t bear it.”

  “You told me he was dead,” he said bitterly, leaning forward menacingly. “You told me he wasn’t mine. You lied about everything, didn’t you?” he asked, wanting to throttle her.

  “Have you ever been afraid to go to sleep, for fear that your father would slip into your room and force himself on you?” she asked, ignoring the questions. Cody frowned at the change of subject. “Have you ever had him stub out his cigarettes on your private parts to teach you a lesson when you cried?” Her eyes seared into his, sliding the liquor down again, her hand shaking. “Your family may not have been perfect, but compared to mine? My goodness, mine were the worst kind of hypocrites. They worshipped status in the community, money and material things. My father fucked me from an early age, behind closed doors in a neighborhood that prided itself on Christian values and the goodness of god. Fucking hypocrites.” Her voice was cold as ice and left him as cold inside. He felt pity for her, felt a twinge of sorrow for the child who’d lost her innocence too soon, but that was as far as it went. She’d harmed her own flesh and blood, because she couldn’t bear to see her ex-husband in his face? What a crock of shit.

  “I feel sorry you had a nasty childhood,” Cody said, meaning it. “I feel sorry your father was a pervert. Was he ever punished for it?”

  She shook her head, curling her lip. “He died of liver disease a few years after I left that shithole neighborhood, after you left. He didn’t suffer enough. Nobody believed me when I told them. Mother dearest turned a blind eye, not wanting to upset her perfect little boat.”

  “So he died of a horrible disease, probably in pain, and he suffered for his sins. And yet you still blame others for the choices you made as an adult, for his choices,” Cody said, eyes narrowing to slits. “What did Ethan or Douglas do to you, huh? Did they hurt you? Did they molest you? Did they violate you?” His voice rose, his claws descending and biting into the table as his cat came close to the surface. He strained to hold himself back.

  “Mrs. Horton,” Murphy said calmly, stepping forward. “We’re taking you back with us.” He met her eyes as she turned her head to look up at him. “We’d like to ask you about Pastor Leonard and his cronies. Perhaps you’d like to help us put the cult to rest.”

  Her mouth twisted into a nasty smirk, her eyes hardening. “What cult? They’re all dead, aren’t they? Good old Pastor Leonard, a man of God who broke all of God’s laws over the years. The bastard has no cult left.”

  “We found your eldest son, Ethan, buried beneath the town of Sage, in an old tunnel which was concreted over to prevent him escaping. He’s still alive, thank goodness, but he says you were in Sage the day he was transferred.” Rafe moved to stand beside Cody, his dark eyes lethal. “Did you know what they were going to do to your son? Did you know he would be buried alive?” His tone was livid, the fierce scowl on his face frightening.

  Marissa looked afraid for the first time, looking at Rafe as though scared he would strike her. “I was told they were taking him someplace to keep him safe,” she said, her voice devoid of emotion, as though reciting lines she’d said a dozen times before.

  “Wrong answer,” Cody snarled, leaning in until he was inches from her face. “You were in that fucking tunnel, you tied him down to that fucking bed while he pleaded with you to save him.
You laughed in his face and told him you were glad he was there, that he’d never get out and never, ever see daylight again. You told him nobody loved him because he was a freak and a moron, and that his dad left him because his son was so stupid.” Cody felt his fangs descend, felt his cat pacing inside him, could almost taste the bitch’s throat.

  “The sniveling little brat was a whiner,” she spat back, the drink giving her courage now. “You left me, why should I care what happened?”

  Cody lashed out, his fist closing over her throat and squeezing gently. “You told me he died, that he wasn’t even mine. I loved him, before he was even born. I loved you back then, too. It was never enough, was it? Nothing I did was ever enough. Everything you’ve done has been to serve your own interests, blaming all men for what your father did. He died a long time ago, so he could never hurt you again—you knew that. I offered to get you help, because I knew you’d been hurt somehow. You didn’t want help, you wanted to stay a victim so you could hurt your father over and over again through your helpless victims. Your sons have more courage in them than you ever have—they’re moving on. Without any help from you.”

  He stepped back suddenly, striding away, and out the side door, leaving her to his crew’s justice. He sensed movement behind him and saw that John had followed. He crossed the parking lot, then the road beyond and strode over to stare out over the creek that gurgled merrily over rocks down the steep embankment.

  John left him alone for a while, then padded over, putting an arm across Cody’s shoulders. “Your boys are strong and courageous and will grow into strong and courageous and well-adjusted young men,” the Brit said quietly. “The best revenge you could ever have, is making sure they live, that they turn out exactly like their dad.”

  Cody felt all tearful again at the words and wiped at his eyes. “I don’t want her blood on my hands,” he said, his voice hoarse with emotion. “If I kill her like I want, I’m no better than she is, wanting revenge that can only hurt my sons in the long term.”

  “Douglas is turning into a helluva baker,” John stated with a smile, nudging Cody with his shoulder. “He’s keen, intelligent, and a hard worker, eager to learn. If I could, I’d hire half a dozen of him and then sit back and relax with a cup of tea.” He paused for a second. “I don’t really know where the intelligence comes from. I mean I’ve met Marissa finally, and I don’t see too much of it there. Then, of course, there’s Douglas’s dad…” John let the sentence hang there while Cody digested the jibe.

  Cody felt himself relax at last, a smile twitching his lips. John was reminding him who he was, where he’d come from, in his own inimitable style. Marissa was a damaged person, mentally ill. She had sociopathic tendencies and saw nothing wrong in what she’d done to her own children. He was done with her. Let the law take care of her.

  Suddenly a shot rang out, coming from the casino and he exchanged an alarmed look with John. Racing back into the building, they entered the gaming floor and saw Marissa slumped on the floor, half her head missing, a smoking gun in her hand.

  Cody shot his crew a startled look, asking the obvious question. What the fuck?

  “She had a gun,” Murphy said redundantly. “When we tried to get her to leave, she pulled the thing from beneath the table and blasted a bullet through the top of her head.”

  Zack stepped over to where Cody stood, wrapping his arms around his big friend, hugging tightly. “She planned this, for whenever she saw you again.” He stepped back, kissing Cody’s cheek. “She wanted to die on her terms,” he said gently.

  Cody looked down at Marissa’s body, feeling a sadness for the woman who had taken so many wrong paths in her search for revenge against a man long dead. He decided he had been drawn to her out of pity, her parents being cold and devoid of any affection…except, apparently, her pedophile of a father. The sick bastard. He knelt beside Marissa, shaking his head.

  He looked up at his friends, sighing heavily. “She’s not going to hurt anyone else, now. Maybe that’s the best we could have hoped for.” Then he stood up and looked at Joshua. “I’m sorry about this. We had no idea she was suicidal.”

  Joshua nodded in recognition of the apology. “She was a troubled and dangerous woman, trying to hurt those who could not fight back. Trying to hurt a ghost is no way to live your life.” He spread his hands to the heavens and chanted something in his native tongue. “Now the spirits will deliver her to the ones who hurt her, tainted her so badly that she lost all reason.”

  “We’ll call the sheriff, get this dealt with,” Mick said, standing quietly nearby. “He’ll want statements from us.”

  Joshua jerked his chin to where a younger man was speaking on the phone. “Already done it,” he said, smiling briefly. “You boys go home to your families. we’ll deal with the sheriff.”

  They left after ensuring that Joshua would come over for a visit.

  They all piled into the vehicle, heading back onto the road, then stopping at the next town to get something to eat. The town had a Wendy’s which they entered, ordering quickly and then relaxing back quietly as they waited for their food.

  “How do you feel?” Murphy asked at one point, after they had been served, tucking into a triple burger and fries with a side of coleslaw and salad. The others had ordered similarly and ate quickly.

  “Empty, relieved, sad,” Cody answered, sipping a cup of tropical green tea, rather than a sugary beverage. He sighed, leaning back in his seat, one arm along the back. “I don’t regret that she’s dead. I don’t know what other outcome there could have been—she would never have lasted in prison.” He rolled his head from one side to the other, easing out the kinks in his neck. “I don’t really know how I’m supposed to feel.”

  Zack sat next to Cody and patted his forearm. “Sweetie, it’ll take a while for it to sink in. You just got all these bombshells dropped on you. First you find your true love, then you find you have a son, then you find the son you thought you lost is alive—both boys within touching distance, just to fuck with your mind even more. To top it all off, the woman who treated you in the worst possible way turns out not to be so straightforward and evil as you thought. Just a sad, abused child who never really matured enough to know when enough was enough. She was a victim herself. It’s hard to harbor hatred for that part of her.”

  Cody nodded, closing his eyes. “I want to hate her, but I can’t. I hate what she did, who she hurt, but I can’t hate her totally. You’re right, she was a victim herself. Who knows what she could have become without those other influences. Who knows what would have happened to us if we hadn’t found another path.”

  He opened his eyes, meeting his friends’ eyes in turn, seeing their love and loyalty and concern for him. “Of course John here is probably as good as he’s ever going to get…we can’t all be perfect specimens of manhood like me.”

  He heard stunned silence for a split second, then the laughter at his sally, breaking their sadness and tension instantly.

  “Cody, my dear friend, I can’t say I blame you for feeling envious of my obvious prowess,” John shot back with a grin, falling into the easy banter they always resorted to when they needed to defuse a tense situation.

  “You mean something else, surely,” Joe added, dipping a fry into some ketchup and slurping up his soda. “I think what we’re all envious of is John’s ability to turn an insult into self-congratulation.” He saluted John with his drink, chuckling.

  “It’s a gift, my love,” John retorted, a wide grin on his face. “I have so many, it’s tough to be so talented.”

  The loud ribbing began, all of them piling on the insults, which John deflected with ease. They were interrupted by the arrival of a young man of about twenty-three or so, one of the other servers.

  Cody looked at the man enquiringly.

  “You’re those shifters from over in Sage, aren’t you?” the kid asked, and Cody nodded, wondering what was coming next. The young man produced a photograph from his wallet, which was tuck
ed into his jeans pocket. “My brother was taken a few years ago, we’re both shifters, mountain lions.” The man looked upset. “I know you’ve helped a lot of people so far, and I wondered if you’d help me find him. Even if I find out he’s dead, at least I’ll know.”

  The men looked at the man, Cody reaching for the photo and passing it around for each of them to study. He seemed to recognize the boy in the photo and frowned in thought.

  “What’s his name?” he asked, pondering where he’d seen those eyes in the photograph before.

  “Sammy,” the young man replied. “Sammy Duvall.”

  Cody stared, thinking of the young men found in the secret tunnel. Sammy was one of the men, a boy when he’d been taken, of about ten years old. He’d been missing for a decade, his eyes only seen briefly when he’d awoken in the clinic in Sage, then fallen back into deep, healing sleep. They matched the color of the eyes in the photograph. He’d told them his name before going back under.

  “He’s in Sage,” Cody told the man. “We found him four days ago.” He heard the boy’s cry of surprise, saw the relief in his eyes, and moved out of the booth, wrapping his arms around the waiter, holding him as he broke down in tears.

  “We’re heading back there now,” Joe said gently. “Do you have a number where we can reach you?”

  “Can I go with you?” the man asked desperately. “I have no one left alive in my family, my brother and I were raised by our grandmother after our parents passed away. It broke her heart after Sammy was kidnapped, and she died finally last year. Please take me with you.”

  The manager walked over, and Cody was ready to do battle, thinking the woman may just try to stop the man leaving.

  “Scotty, did I just hear that you found your brother?” she asked, showing feline fangs to Cody, and he relaxed. Scotty nodded to her, and she smiled widely. “I’m glad. You’ve lost too much already.”

  “Sammy is really sick,” Cody warned, not telling Scotty the whole story. “He was pretty emaciated when we found him, and he’s under twenty-four-hour care right now, to get him back to health again.”