Disgust rolled over her, cold and slimy. “You wish.”
“Leave her out of this.” River drew the demon’s attention. “This is between you and me.”
Kent eyed him. “You don’t like the idea of me and your prissy girlfriend hanging out together, swapping stories? Just think, we could have one hell of a threesome.”
Murder glinted in River’s eyes. But instead of pulling the trigger, he reached inside his jacket pocket and extracted the piece of paper.
Lightning flashed on the horizon. Thunder rumbled over the marsh.
“What’s that?” Kent snorted. “You write me a love letter?”
River unfolded the paper and read aloud, the words coming slow and jerky. Vicki stared at the second symbol she’d seen in her vision. She opened her mouth to warn him but stopped. He knows what he’s doing.
Kent’s eyes rolled up into their sockets, his mouth warped into a grimace. He threw his head back and screamed, a piercing preternatural shriek of pain.
The wicked sound drove into her core. Hot fear grabbed her throat, choked the breath from her. Prickles shot down her arms, across her back, followed by a bone-rattling shudder. Every ounce of her being screamed for her to run, to escape, but she remained immobile, fought the panic threatening to overwhelm her. I can’t bail. If I do, the demon will track me down, and the nightmare will start over again. No. We need to finish this. Seizing what determination she had left, she forced her feet to root her to the ground.
Undaunted, River continued to read. He’d found a cadence to the words, and his voice rang clear and strong on the cool air.
Kent clutched his abdomen, doubled over. A growl of agony came from the demon, and the body he possessed shook. He gasped for breath. Moaned and twitched. Uttered unintelligible sounds.
Laughed.
River stopped reading. Through narrowed eyes, he stared at the form cringing half a dozen feet away. The hunched-over body quaked with laughter.
Straightening, Kent wiped away a mirthful tear with the back of his hand. Insidious glee danced across his face, his eyes dark and ominous. “Really, River?”
“What?” He raised his gun, pointing it at Kent’s head.
“You’ve sunk to exorcism to get rid of me?” He lifted his hands to his chest in a mock gesture of insult.
“Yeah.”
“A circle of salt, an exorcism. I’m guessing you have some holy water in your bag of tricks as well?”
“Maybe.” His jaw clenched, but he kept his eyes focused on Kent. “Why? You thirsty?”
The asshole chuckled, shook his head. “It won’t work. None of it. Your information’s bad.”
Anger flamed in his gut. The son of a bitch is lying. Another trick. River took a step forward, tilted his head, and lined up the Glock’s sights, drawing a tighter bead on the man before him. “What do you mean? Why won’t it work?”
Kent rolled a shoulder, the act resembling the dismissal of a fly. “I’m not a demon.”
“What?”
“I know. As powerful and amazing as I am, it’s difficult to believe I’m not demonic. But, Riv, seriously, you need to get your facts straight. Thurisaz, the god I make all these sacrifices to? He’s a demon. Me?” He gestured toward himself and grinned. “I’m a soul.”
Well, hell.
“Invincible and god-like but with none of the messy strings attached.” Kent looked up and to the left. “Really more like a soul-traveler to be more exact.”
“More like a soul-parasite.” Vicki’s lips curled in disgust. “To be more exact.”
Kent shifted his focus, his eyes filled with fury and lust. “I’ll get to you soon enough, Blondie.”
The implication of his words triggered a round of dread to ricochet through River. He moved to her side. “Gotta deal with me first, Kent. I’m at the head of the line.”
With a shrug, the guy sauntered to the edge of the circle, held his arms out to the sides. “Fine with me.”
River touched Vicki’s arm, urged her behind him.
“That’s not going to save her. She can’t run, can’t hide.” He grinned, his features suffused with malevolent delight. “I’m going to rip you apart, partner. Drink your blood. Bathe in it. Then I’ll find your little blonde sex toy. Yeah. The fun we’ll have. I’ll take my time—”
“Shut up!” Rage rolled through River, filled him up, consumed him from the inside out. The images Kent described assaulted his mind. He could see it—imagine every repulsive detail in vivid color—and it all but drove him over the edge. He pressed his finger against the smooth, metal trigger, every ounce of his being demanding he do whatever it took to stop the bastard from fulfilling his threat.
“Oh my God,” Vicki said, her breathy words filled with horror. “River, look down.”
He glanced at the circle, and air jammed in his throat.
Kent had stepped across the line of salt.
She tugged River backward over the sand. “I thought Lenny said he couldn't cross a line of salt.”
“He did. One of us must have kicked it and broken the ring.”
Her fingers dug into his shoulder. “Or….”
“What?”
“We are in a salt marsh.”
With a murderous growl, Kent lunged and drove his shoulder into River’s gut. The evil bastard might not have been at full potential, but he sure as hell moved faster than River could react. Caught off guard, he jolted, pulled the trigger. The explosive report hammered his eardrums as the weapon recoiled in his grip, the shot flying wild.
He fell back, his elbow connecting with Vicki on the way down. A strangled yelp erupted from her throat as she skidded headlong to the ground.
River slammed onto the sand, Kent crashing on top of him, meaty fingers clawing for his throat. The weight of his assailant knocked the breath from his lungs, and the impact dislodged the gun from his hand. His pistol flew into the air, tumbled over the sand, and came to rest well out of reach.
Kent’s full weight pressed down, and River struggled to breathe. His efforts produced a wet, gurgling noise and minimal air to his lungs. He shoved his ex-partner, pounded his fists into his ribs, but the man’s thumbs bore down on his windpipe with crushing intensity. The edges of his vision darkened.
His legs seemed to fill with lead, becoming too heavy to move. His arms weakened, and he could no longer ball his hands into fists. With sheer determination, he continued to pummel Kent, his palms slapping against him with no effect.
Panic spiraled through him. Icy tendrils of dread curled into his brain and sent the world spinning. He focused on the madman’s eyes. Son of a bitch. How did the man who was my partner and best friend become a demon-worshipping psychotic killer? Who makes a choice like that?
River’s body convulsed, a last struggle for the oxygen it required. Just a second or two left. I’m dead. Vicki’s alone with this maniac.
A high-pitched keening filled the air. He blinked, his lids drifting closed. When he opened his eyes, stars twinkled in a black velvet sky…and cold air rushed over his bruised larynx and into his lungs.
Oh, shit! He gulped down the sweet, life-giving oxygen, choked, and inhaled again. But Kent? He glanced to his left, his terror renewed.
Kent and Vicki wrestled in the sand.
“You bastard!” She clawed at his face, caught his cheek. Four long gashes welled with blood.
Kent laughed. The full moon glittered in his eyes, revealing his utter enjoyment. “You think you really knocked me off your lover boy?” He grabbed her tight then rolled over, pinning her beneath him. “Sweetie, I’ve been waiting all night to get you under me.” He ground his hips against her pelvis.
“No!” She screamed and slapped at him, her nails slashing at his arms and hands.
“That’s it, bitch. Fight me.” He yanked open her jacket. With a triumphant growl, he clutched her breasts, dug his fingers into them. Vicki’s pain-filled wails echoed through the small alcove, and he grinned, his face awash in malevolent pleas
ure. Kent yanked his belt off, unzipped his pants. “I’m about to give you the ride of your life.”
River shoved himself to his knees, each breath of air renewing him. He scanned the area in search of his weapon. A single shot can end this.
A glint of metal caught his eye, and he scrambled on all fours across the sand. When he curled his fingers around the cool metal, satisfaction filled his veins. Rising to his feet, he stumbled toward Kent and Vicki.
“Get off!” She kicked, struggled against the bastard, but he outweighed her by a good hundred pounds.
“Let’s see what you have to offer.” He reached down and ripped her shirt open, leaving her creamy skin exposed to the frigid night air. Clutching her hands above her head, he leaned over, inhaling her scent. When he ran his tongue down her neck, she let out an anguished whimper.
River raised the gun.
“I’ve been thinking.” Kent gazed down at Vicki. “When River kills me—because he will kill me—I’ll take his body. You’d like it. His stiff cock, pumping you hard and fast. Wouldn’t you?”
Shit. River lowered the gun, shoved it into his shoulder holster. Tugging his belt off, he twisted the ends around his hands. Timing is everything.
He crept up behind Kent. The bastard knows I’m here. Expects it. Wants me to kill him.
And the rage pumping through River’s veins demanded exactly that. He leaned forward, the belt taut in his grasp. He just wouldn’t commit the act of violence Kent hoped for.
Looping the belt around his partner’s neck, he yanked. “Polo, you sonovabitch.”
Chapter Forty-Three
River pulled the belt tight, choking the life from Dauscher’s possessed body. Images of Kent’s first mutilated victim discovered in Savannah, Penny Newhouse, came to his mind. She’d been strangled with a leather strap, just as he now strangled Kent. It appeared events had come full circle.
The big guy struggled, bucked, clawed at the leather constricting his throat, and River fought to hold on. His fingers numbed, his arms ached, yet he managed to keep the belt in place.
The irony that he stood here killing his second partner in order to destroy his first partner was not lost on him either. If only he’d forced himself to see the truth back then, a lot of lives would’ve been spared. But Kent was right. River had sensed the changes in his partner and ignored them, the implications too horrific to consider.
Has to end. Dauscher dies. Growling, he gripped the belt.
“River?” Vicki slid from beneath her assailant, her exposed chest heaving as she drew in deep breaths and exhaled enormous frothy white puffs of air. Her frame shook, and she wrapped her shirt and jacket around herself with trembling hands.
“Vicki,” he barked, hoping his harsh tone would keep her from plummeting into shock.
She looked at him, her face pale, her lips thin, but a fire sparked in those gray eyes of hers. She was with him.
A huge drop of rain splashed onto his cheek. He glanced skyward. Vast, dark clouds occluded half of the velvety heavens. Ominous black ribbons reached for the moon, threatened to smother its light. A second drop splattered onto his forehead.
Shit.
“Salt,” he yelled at her.
Her eyebrows shot up in question.
“Now!”
She scrambled to the backpack, yanked out a box of rock salt. She held it up, triumph lighting her face.
“Ring!” He fought Kent, who continued to struggle beneath him, gurgling curses and spit spewing from his mouth.
Lightning danced on the ocean horizon, and a guttural rumble of thunder vibrated the air. Time is limited. When the storm reaches us….
Vicki tossed the empty box aside and retrieved a second from the pack to complete the heavy ring of salt. “Almost there.”
A violent shudder racked Kent, his body’s final protest against death. River held the belt firm, waiting until he stilled. A moisture-laden wind picked up and propelled another raindrop into his face.
Time’s up. He released one end of the belt, and with his knee, nudged Dauscher’s body over onto its back. Vacant bulldog eyes stared up at him, the vivacity gone. His partner was dead—both of them.
“River.” Vicki’s soft call compelled him to turn. She stood within the circle, her hand outstretched, beckoning him to join her.
The sight jolted through him, and his love for her transcended the cold, the pain. In three long strides, he stood next to her inside the ring. He took her hand, and together they turned to watch Dauscher.
“Do you think he’s gone already?” she asked.
“No.” Through narrowed eyes, he scrutinized the body. “Something as evil as Kent won’t go peacefully.”
“Why do you think he hasn’t left?” she whispered. A tremor shook her, and he pulled her close.
“He wants another body.” He swallowed. Is he waiting for me?
River glanced up to find the clouds had all but won their battle with the moonlight. A windy emissary of the approaching storm tore through the treetops and across the marsh as lightning spiked the ocean and thunder roared on its heels. Several large raindrops smacked the sand around them, one biting the outer edge of the salt ring.
“What if he does come out?” Vicki’s brow knitted with worry. “Do you think the heavier barricade of salt will work?”
“I don’t know.” He rubbed his jaw. “I think he gave us the answer. He said he wasn’t a demon.”
“That’s right. He said he was a soul and that a salt line couldn’t stop him.”
“But if we can get him out of Dauscher….”
“He’d be in spirit form,” she finished.
“Right. And if Lenny’s right, the salt will act like a force field. As a ghost, Kent shouldn’t be able to cross the line.”
River stared at Dauscher’s body, inert half a dozen feet from them. Something wasn’t right. He checked his watch—a minute had passed since he’d murdered his partner. He shook his head. “Too long. I need to—”
“No! It’s a trick.” She clutched his arm. “He wants you to come out, so he can steal your body.”
“We have to do something. Like Kent said earlier, we can’t stay here forever. Eventually, we’ll have to leave.” He pointed toward the sky. “And if you haven’t noticed, with the rain, that may happen sooner than we want.”
“I know.” She frowned. “But if you step across the line, you’ll be giving him what he wants. Another chance to continue his killing spree.”
He ran a hand through his hair. “Well, I’m open for suggestions.”
“I don’t know.” She caught her lower lip between her teeth while she contemplated their situation.
He looked at his watch again. Ninety seconds since Dauscher’s death.
“Maybe….” Her eyes brightened, and she dropped to her knees. “Help me.”
For a moment, it seemed as though she meant to sacrifice herself by crawling outside the ring, and his heart skipped a beat. But when she smoothed the sand in front of her, he knelt beside her. “The symbol?”
“It’s his own personal sign. Tell me if I’m wrong, but it seems like every time we draw it, things don’t go like he planned.” She leaned dangerously far outside the circle. “Hold me.”
He grabbed her hips, held her steady while she reached out to draw the star.
“Almost there.” She touched her finger to the sand and drew a circle around the pentagram then retreated to the safety of the salt ring. “Okay. All that’s left is the pointed capital D.” Her gaze flicked toward the drawing then back to him. “You’ve got longer arms.”
He nodded. “Nothing might happen. But be ready either way.”
Dragging his finger through the sand, he drew the first line of the pointed D. He looked at Dauscher. Not a thing had changed. “Okay. Here we go.” In a single, swift move, he finished the symbol then shifted his focus to the body. Would the symbol draw Kent out?
Seconds ticked past. Nothing happened.
Vicki sighed. �
�I don’t think it—”
An arm twitched. A leg shook.
“Oh my God,” she whispered.
Dauscher’s body convulsed, its chest lifting up and arching toward the sky. Limbs trembled with intense violence as though a high voltage current ran through them. Lightning lit the sky, accentuating the unearthly event. Thunder crashed, and Dauscher’s body bowed heavenward.
Ice-cold horror enveloped River, freezing him in place. The sight was beyond anything he’d ever experienced or could have imagined.
“Help me.”
The whispered words drove into River’s brain, ripped at his soul. He lurched forward, but Vicki dug her fingers into his shoulder.
“No!” The terror in her voice grounded him.
Dauscher lifted into the air, his quivering form appearing suspended on an invisible hook firmly rooted in his gut. His lifeless eyes glowed crimson, and his mouth opened in a silent scream. A thick, curling column of black smoke erupted from his chest, moved upward, jerked free of the body.
Released, Dauscher dropped to the ground, landing with a sickening thud.
The black smoke darted toward River.
“Shit!” He jerked back just inside the salt ring, scrambled to his feet.
The smoke tested the boundary, slithering over the sand around the circle. A reptilian hiss echoed within the black mass, and one end rose up. The dark mist shimmered, an oily sheen covering the undulating entity. It dipped, protruded, reshaped itself until it formed an all-too-familiar shape.
Kent Lee Rowton.
Eye to eye with River, the thing grinned. Pools of crimson glowed where eyes should have been, assessing the situation. In full specter form, he crossed his arms, his stance expectant.
“Sorry, Kent.” He grabbed Vicki’s hand and aimed unadulterated anger at his murdering ex-partner’s form. “We’re not coming out.”
The spirit growled, the sound so low the vibrations trembled over River’s skin. Kent pointed an oily finger, turned away, and in a murky blur, shot across the ground to Dauscher. Hovering over the body, wispy dark tendrils drifted down and grazed the surface only to jerk away.
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