Redeeming the Night

by Kristine Overbrook

  The street led past rows of homes then around a large circular park and playground area.

  Several families picnicked. Hordes of children ran about under the trees and on the jungle gym.

  Once upon a time, she’d wanted a family. She slowed the car to watch the interaction at the closest picnic blanket.

  A matronly woman watched a young girl of about five run from their blanket to the swings, pigtails flopping as she ran. The child called to be pushed and was answered by the hunter who rose from beside the woman, kissed the hand he held, and walked to the girl.

  When he turned to push the child, who now kicked her legs in excitement, Ashley could see the faint piece of her soul in his chest. Still glowing golden and bright.

  To get a closer look, she parked her car and walked over to the woman on the blanket. She sat in the grass a few feet from the woman on her right.

  After waiting a few moments, Ashley spoke. “Kids are great, aren’t they?”

  “A blessing,” the woman replied without hesitation.

  “Your husband looks like a loving father.”

  “Yes, he does.” The awe in the woman’s voice spoke volumes, but Ashley chose to err on the side of caution.

  “Isn’t he?” Ashley asked, hoping to draw her out.

  “He’s a new man this morning.” Then she jumped, as if just realizing she was speaking to a stranger. “He’s less stressed today.”

  Nodding wisely, Ashley said nothing more, but watched the man Nichole had taken mercy on pushing his daughter. None of the vile slime that had so permeated the man’s aura the night before remained.

  He’d been cleansed. This morning, his entire being reflected a new man. Joyful, spending time with his family.

  Ashley looked again at the small bit of her that lived in him. So small, she didn’t think she’d miss it. Better to leave it there in case he was to backslide and again become something that needed destroying.

  She sighed as she walked back to her car. At least for today the small family could build good memories. Perhaps Nichole was right.

  • • •

  Ashley returned home to a mansion in turmoil. Tension could be felt from the other side of the front door.

  She kept her eyes open for the cause of the cacophony of voices. Nichole sat at the kitchen table, tears streaming down her face. No one else was in sight.

  “What’s happening?” Ashley asked after she slipped into the kitchen.

  “Oh, Ashley,” Nichole wailed.

  “Shhh,” Ashley warned. She didn’t know what was going on, and the last thing she wanted to do was get involved in petty sniping. And if it was worse, she wanted to know the situation before she got involved.

  “They’re sending me away,” Nichole gasped through sobs.

  “What?” She stood up. “Who? Why?”

  “The Mother, because Tarma told her I didn’t make the kill last night.”

  “You told Tarma?” Ashley leaned on the table, struggling with the urge to shake the teary woman. “Why did you do that?”

  “I thought if you trusted her I could too,” Nichole whispered and looked up at Ashley with big, watery eyes.

  Ashley straightened and shoved her fists into the pockets of her jeans. “I told you not to tell anyone. Anyone.”

  “But they should know there’s a better way, that we can do our work without killing them.” Nichole wiped the tears from her cheeks.

  Ashley sighed. “Sure they should, but at what expense?”

  “I don’t want to leave.” Nichole sniffled.

  Ashley felt sorry for her. The whole idea that men are able to change was a foreign one to the sisterhood, and it would, of course, be especially difficult for the woman who founded the sisterhood.

  “Maybe I could talk to them,” Ashley offered.

  “Don’t, you’ll get in trouble too.” Nichole blinked her large eyes at Ashley and then they widened larger. “Did you see the guy at the bar again?”

  “What do you mean?” Ashley asked, concerned.

  “The guy who stole the kiss.”

  “No,” Ashley said, and then remembered seeing her soul in him. If she could see hers in him then others with the power could see his in her. “Shit.”

  “I can see bits of his soul all over you,” Nichole said, standing and hugging the surprised Ashley.

  She pressed her hands over her heart. How could she hide this? The sisterhood would kick her out for sure if they caught wind of what she was doing with Eric.

  “Oh, God, what do I do?” Ashley pleaded of the air.

  “Why don’t you concentrate your power on your aura? Instead of disguising your physical appearance, alter your own aura?”

  “It could work.” Ashley concentrated on herself and her own aura. The effort had perspiration beading across her forehead.

  Finally, after quite a bit of pushing, Nichole told her she had it. Just in time, because a second later, Tarma walked into the room.

  “Ashley?” The question sounded like a whip in the silence. Ashley spun to face her mentor.

  “Yes?” Ashley smiled and gulped down the sudden string of excuses that rose in her throat. She had nothing to explain.

  “You left the house early this morning. I needed to talk to you.”

  “Sure, I—”

  “The Mother wanted to talk to you.” Tarma stared at Ashley, her eyes flickering as if she meant to see through her.

  Confidence, Ashley reminded herself. “Sure. Is she here now?”

  “Yes.” Tarma led the way up the stairs.

  “What did you need to talk to me about?” Ashley asked, focusing on the paintings along the stairs and hall.

  She’d seen them before, heck, she’d lived in this house and walked these halls for years. But today, they took on a whole new meaning for her.

  Just at the top of the stairs hung an angry abstract of reds, oranges, and blacks that seemed to flicker in the light of the stairwell. She could swear she felt heat emanating from it.

  Farther along the hallway, another looked like a portrait of a marriage kiss in an outdoor wedding, but as she passed, the bride appeared to be eating the groom. Ashley choked back her exclamation and was overcome with a bout of coughing. Why hadn’t she seen any of these things before?

  “You understand Nichole will have to leave?” Tarma asked, pausing before another flight of stairs.

  “Of course.” Ashley met her old mentor’s eyes. For the first time, she saw the vertical slits where her pupils should have been. “She doesn’t belong here.” Ashley didn’t think she would be able to lie, so she stayed with the truth.

  “She seems to believe men are worth saving, able to be reformed.” Tarma let the statement hang between them, heavy with the implied question: did Ashley believe the same thing?

  Ashley responded as she would have three days ago. “I’m sorry she’ll have to leave. She had promise.”

  Again, Tarma waited. The silence, though obviously for effect, nearly unnerved Ashley.

  Finally, after twenty seconds that seemed to last twenty minutes, they continued up the stairs. The heavy wooden doors to the Mother’s bedroom opened by themselves as Tarma approached.

  “Ah, it’s about time, Ashley.” The Mother walked to the door, clasped Tarma’s hands, and then turned to Ashley. “I’m glad we caught you before you went hunting this evening.” She led Ashley by the hand to an antique couch by the open French doors that overlooked the garden with a view of the desert beyond.

  Ashley’d been in this room on several occasions, and never before had she had the overwhelming dread that she had now.

  A light dry breeze blew through the doorway. It was warm and pleasant, but it chilled her to the bone.

  “You’ve had a lot to deal with, dear.” The tone was strong and sweet. Ashley wanted to believe the kindness in her words as she’d done so many times before, but her mind picked apart every word, looking for an inner meaning.

  “You look a little dehydrated.�
� The Mother passed her a glass. “Have a drink.”

  Ashley thanked her and sipped. But the Mother placed a finger under the glass and lifted the bottom. “Drink up. We don’t want your promotion to suffer because you’re not caring for yourself properly.”

  The drink seemed fizzy like peroxide, but it tasted like cinnamon. She finished the glass, and before she could inspect the empty vessel the Mother handed it to Tarma and continued, “Nichole wasn’t ready to join the sisterhood. I saw potential in her, but she proved that she just doesn’t have what it takes.” All Ashley could do was nod, as the bony hand patted hers. “You mustn’t blame yourself for her failure. She had radical ideas unworthy of a member of the sisterhood.”

  The skeletal fingers dug into the back of Ashley’s hand. She held in a gasp and endured the pain. “You’re not placing any stock in those ideas, are you, dear?”

  Ashley replied quickly, knowing any hesitation could be used against her. “I told her the idea was ridiculous at the start.”

  “Good. That’s good.” The vise released, and Ashley’s battered hand received another pat. “This will allow you the opportunity to deal with an unfit sister. It is not part of your training, but I see how valuable it will be to you.”

  “Okay.”

  Tarma circled to stand just behind Ashley. The Mother seemed not to notice. “Of course, she knows too much to set her loose into the world. We can’t guarantee her silence out there, so she’ll have to be dealt with by us. Well, by you.”

  “Dealt with?”

  “Your very first.” The Mother patted her hand again; she seemed proud.

  Tarma, on the other hand, rolled her eyes. “Sentimentality is a weakness.” It wasn’t imagined; she hissed like a lizard.

  “Tarma’s right. It can be.” The Mother narrowed her eyes at the hovering woman. “However, tonight, we celebrate.”

  A celebration. Dealt with.

  Tarma gripped Ashley’s shoulders and squeezed. “If you drain her quickly it won’t bother you as much. Do you feel it inside you yet?”

  Ashley fought to keep her facial muscles relaxed. They wanted her to kill Nichole. Could she even do that? At one time, maybe, but now … Ashley’s stomach clenched, and she swam through a wave of nausea. What had they put inside her? The way they talked it was more than energy, more than a spirit.

  “You and Tarma should hunt together for a while. She will be able to teach you some new techniques. Help you embrace the spirit within you.”

  “That’s great. I’ve missed hunting with her.” Ashley smiled, but her vision blurred for a second as she gazed at both of the other women. But they weren’t women. They were powerful creatures that for the first time she could see clearly.

  The Mother looked the most familiar. Then, Ashley realized the tapestry over the large bed was a portrait. Scales as black as coal. Eyes that defied nature by being even darker.

  Tarma looked similar to the Mother, except instead of being shiny, coal-black, her skin was a deep, forest green. Both of their auras were tinged with the blood of a recent kill.

  No hesitation, absolutely no revulsion, Ashley thought. She couldn’t let them see what she really thought, the fear she felt. The part of Eric inside her warmed, giving her strength.

  “It’s been a while since I’ve hunted with someone that knows what she’s doing,” Ashley added as she leaned back a little and crossed her legs.

  “Good. Then it’s settled.” The Mother stood and clasped both of Ashley’s hands, pulling her up with her. “Now, go fetch Nichole so we can get this unhappy part over with.” Then she released her.

  At her cue, Ashley left the room.

  The door had almost closed when she felt it being pulled back and open again. She glanced back, and what she saw caused her to lose her grip on the knob. Talons extended from the green scaled fingers that curled around the door from the inside.

  Once Ashley stepped away from the door, the hand returned to the well-manicured appendage of her mentor. The seconds between releasing the door and seeing Tarma’s face were barely enough for Ashley to regain her composure.

  “Ashley.” The woman’s smile chilled her as it never had before. “Would you mind telling Jessie to pick up some ice cream on her way home this evening?”

  “Sure.” Ashley didn’t run but walked briskly to her bedroom. A quick scan told her there was nothing of value to salvage. Slipping a purse over her shoulder, she left.

  The Mother was right about one thing: Nichole didn’t belong in the sisterhood. Now Ashley realized that she didn’t either. She swallowed and prepared to leave her home of forty years.

  If either of those creatures caught wind of her connection to Eric, he would be in danger, too.

  Chapter 9

  Ashley barely controlled her descent of the stairs. Running wouldn’t do, not if she were going to get Nichole. When she peeked into the front sitting room she found Nichole, hands folded, waiting.

  Ashley tapped her shoulder and forced a smile. “Let’s go to lunch.”

  “Ooh, that sounds lovely. But Tarma told me to wait.” Her shoulders slumped slightly. “They’re probably going to wipe my memory.”

  She couldn’t let her anxiety show, and there was no way she could explain. “Before you forget me entirely would you mind if we had one last lunch first?”

  The corners of Nichole’s lips quirked slightly.

  “I know.” She reached for Nichole’s shoulder and steered her to the front door. “I’ll get it out of my system at lunch.”

  Calmly, they walked to one of the sisterhood’s cars. She dare not run, though she had no idea what would happen if they were caught. She had a feeling that a last lunch wouldn’t fly with Tarma and the Mother.

  When they were on the road, Nichole asked, “Where are we going for lunch?”

  “Nowhere.” A side glance revealed a pout. “I had to get you out of there. I couldn’t take you upstairs.”

  “Why? They were just going to erase my memory.”

  “No, they weren’t.” Ashley had no idea where she intended to drive.

  Silence.

  “They want you dead,” Ashley said, pulling onto the freeway. Nichole needed to know the truth.

  “Nonsense. I’m not a man. I’m one of the sisterhood, and a woman.”

  “You’re not a member until your induction ceremony and as far as being a woman goes, I don’t think that matters anymore.” If it ever did. “They ordered me to kill you.”

  Nichole exhaled slowly.

  “Don’t worry, I won’t.”

  Nichole’s eyes widened slightly, and she patted Ashley’s leg. “I know you’d never hurt me. Where are we going?”

  Ashley bit her tongue. Had this situation arisen just a couple of days ago she very well might have served Nichole’s soul to the Mother on a silver platter.

  “I haven’t a clue,” Ashley admitted. Even before she knew something sinister lay beneath the surface of Tarma and the Mother, she wouldn’t have thought it possible to run from the sisterhood. Now it was the only way she could see a future, for her or Nichole.

  Chapter 10

  Eric worked to put Ashley’s morning visit aside. Aaron had agreed to let him review the original file of the murdered girl, Suzie Hogan. Even as he read the details of the case, Ashley came into his mind unbidden. Repeatedly, he pushed her image aside to focus on the folder in front of him. There would be plenty of time to work out the mysteries of that woman later.

  The poor girl’s end began as a kidnapping.

  Before Suzie’s disappearance, she lived at the Angola Center for Displaced Girls. According to the report, the last any adult saw of her was on her way to the school bus stop. No children were interviewed.

  The report was functionary, written by an overworked individual and dictated by a similar person, both of whom most likely saw too many runaways to think anything strange in yet another young woman who decided life would be better on her own.

  He needed to re-interview
the staff at the center and the girl’s friends.

  He made a quick call to Max, who agreed to play chauffeur and access card. With a single flash of Max’s badge the two of them were escorted through the hallways to the principal’s office. The walls were yellowed to the point of almost being brown around the corners and moldings. It reminded Eric of his neighbor’s house growing up. His friend’s parents smoked, and the tobacco stained everything. When they moved out, there were squares of blue on the green walls where the pictures had been removed. Time had its own color palette.

  He could hear the murmur of voices as he and Max moved deeper into the building, and picked up the scent of stale coffee, pancakes, and maple syrup. Not the homiest place to grow up, but it beat living on the street. It was probably better than skipping around foster homes. His old partner would know.

  They followed the elderly receptionist through a pair of glass French doors at the end of the yellow hall and entered the principal’s office. A sign beside the doors labeled it as belonging to Dr. Lucy Callie, Principal. Behind the heavy wooden desk sat a woman with tired eyes but a quick smile. “What can I do for you, Officer?”

  Max shook her extended hand. “My associate, Detective Adams, has a couple questions for you regarding Suzie Hogan.”

  Principal Callie tapped on her computer’s keyboard. “She’s one of our girls?”

  “No, ma’am, at least not currently,” Max responded.

  She abandoned her computer and tilted her head.

  “Six months ago you had a runaway named Suzie Hogan,” Eric explained.

  Now the rest of her face matched her eyes. “Unfortunately, we have a lot of girls come through here and far too many runaways. It’s difficult to remember them all.”

  Eric held out a copy of the missing person’s report; the girl’s picture had been stapled in the top corner.

  “Yes, I remember her. She wasn’t very happy here. Many of the girls aren’t. She talked about making her way to California to become an actress. I figured that’s where she went.”