The Pact
Book Three:
Sailor Ray and the Beautiful Lie
Alex Villavasso
Copyright 2017, Alex Villavasso
All rights reserved
This novel is a work of fiction and is a product of the author’s imagination.
All events, places, and characters are either fictitious or portrayed in a fictitious manner. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form except by an authorized retailer or once written permission from the author is received.
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Cover by Jeff Brown
Editing by K.A Denver
ISBN-13: 978-1546887867
ISBN-10: 1546887865
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Table of Contents
Blurb
Chapter 1: Another Night in the Life
Chapter 2: Cold Case
Chapter 3: The Morning After
Chapter 4: Of All Places
Chapter 5: Stranded
Chapter 6: Whisked Away
Chapter 7: Reality Check
Chapter 8: Car Trouble
Chapter 9: The Final Farewell
Chapter 10: Sailor Ray and the Beautiful Lie
Chapter 11: My Choice
Chapter 12: I Cry, You Cry
Chapter 13: Life and Living
Chapter 14: The Search for Something More
Chapter 15: Survivors
The Pact Book Four: Sailor Ray and the Beginning of the End
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A Note to the Reader
Sailor’s Lie
About the Author
Looking for More?
Blurb
Is he making me the perfect vessel?
On lonely nights, I often wonder if I’m still me or if Vartal’s influence is now my second nature.
Everything’s changed. Nothing is even remotely the same. The ones I thought I could trust may turn against me if they find out my secret, and the one being that dangles my very existence in his hands is the only constant in my ever-shifting life. Perhaps it’s just me. Perhaps it’s the price I pay for allowing him in and forcing everyone out.
Why does he help me? Why do I let him? What am I fighting for? And does it really matter?
Things aren’t as black and white as they once were, and I alone walk the medium, teetering on either side.
In a world without rules, only the wicked run free. A lack of conscience, a loss of a soul—what’s the difference? I’ve seen enough from both sides to know that there is none.
I’m going to get him out. But if I can’t, there’s only one way this can end.
Chapter 1: Another Night in the Life
Bottle after bottle I sip away, slipping hopelessly into my own demise. Self-pity doesn’t get you too far in this line of work, but it’s getting harder to rationalize the way I feel and why I keep going. Mom is dead. Dad is dead. God knows how many others in between. I’ve got my own trail of bodies following me from when I first started my vendetta.
…And what has it gotten me?
Nothing but a demon and a death wish.
Every time I hear his voice a part of me asks myself if it was worth it. Living for revenge only to be consumed by darkness doesn’t seem like something anyone would want for their child. Or even hunting, in general. But, here I am.
Drowning out your demons in the literal sense, doesn’t seem to be working, does it, Miss Ray? Death happens. I figured you’d be over it by now given—
“Shut it. You act like you know me. You don’t.”
Ah…but I do. More than you care to admit. How long have we been together, you and I? I take another sip of liquor, holding my tongue as the bitter concoction burns on the way down.
My face scrunches from the sensation, but it isn’t something to cry about. Thanks to our pact, I can down some of the strongest shit and ride a decent buzz if I stay away from the heavier wardings in my place: a pro of diluted demon regeneration. Since you seem to be preoccupied, I’ll give you a hint. It’s been more than a few months, Miss Ray. It’s been a pleasure watching you grow, that is when you afford me the luxury. I do look forward to you finding what you’ve been searching for.
“Revenge?” I raise my head up to take a sip and return to my slumped position, balancing my forearms against my thighs. “Yeah,” I smirk. “Me too… No need to remind me about the other part. I know what I signed up for.”
Very well. Despite your resistance, in those few precious moments where we were of one accord, I found myself amused by your antics. I know you feel my presence growing inside of you. It’s quite the balancing act you’re performing. A painfully haughty laugh registers in my ear, but I find just the right amount of apathy to outwardly shrug it off. Considering your disposition, I think you’re doing quite well.
“Did any of your buddies in Hell ever tell you that you have a way with words?” I pause in adoration of the short-lived silence. “Thought so.” I snicker and raise the bottle to my lips, but before I can take a sip, I’m stopped by the demon’s words.
When the time comes, perhaps I’ll allow a dual ownership of sorts.
I lower the bottle to the ground beside my couch and press my fingers against my temple.
“Didn’t I tell you I didn’t want to hear it?”
Denying your fate doesn’t stop it from coming true. You’re quite amusing for a human, Miss Ray. I wouldn’t mind having you as more than a slave.
“When you say things like that it almost makes death seem not all that bad, considering the alternative.”
To be honest, if I can’t get him out of me, a bullet to the head would be ideal. How sick would it be if Blaze had to put a demonized version of me down? Especially if Vartal is serious about having a dual ownership. I wouldn’t be me…but to be fair, I haven’t been truly ‘me’ in a long time. I’m sipping liquor in a depressed haze while talking to a demon that’s bound to me.
You’ve only tasted a fraction of what’s to come. I know you know how it feels every time you let go. I know you feel me… That spark in your brain—the unfiltered rush of adrenaline. The lack of guilt, shame…remorse. It’s pure. He chuckles. Ecstasy in union.
“Spare me the cult talk. You’re evil as fuck.” Fed up, I move from my couch and make my way to the front door of my apartment. “I’m going out to look for leads,” I say, making it a point to answer the demon’s unspoken thoughts. “There’s a few spots I’d like to check out where the local crazies frequent. Sober me up so I can put you away. I’m not going to be on foot the whole night. Rather not die on the way to where I’m heading,” I say as I exit through the front door.
And where is that? Almost instantly, I feel an internal shift. It’s almost like a haze over my brain—the presence of the weakened demon surfacing, uninhibited. Along with it comes a glimpse of the tempting darkness he speaks so highly of it. The part of him I’m fighting to resist.
“None of your damn business. Logistics have never been a problem for you,” I mutter as I walk to my car. “And if they are, I haven’t been paying attention.” By the time I make it to the car, my buzz is long gone. I slide into the front seat of my Mus
tang and inject myself with Holy Water, sparing the formalities of taking it slow. Vartal’s presence wains and I take a deep breath before starting my engine.
Here’s to another night in the life of Sailor Ray.
Chapter 2: Cold Case
I watch him from a distance as he leaves the bar, his head tucked low, nestled between the ridges of his jacket. I’ve been out at this spot for at least an hour, but it’s well worth the wait.
I’ve got you now, bastard.
I give him a little space while he walks through the dimly lit streets of the city, but then slowly pick up my pace to gradually close the distance between us. A few bars are open, but nothing is packed. It’s too early for the late-night crowd, but far too late for the nine to fivers to get a quick after-work meal. If he managed to down a couple of beers, this will be a lot easier. An intoxicated mark is an easy mark.
The man in question pulls out his phone as he continues to walk, totally oblivious to his surroundings. I don’t mind at all. With his eyes glued to his phone, he’s preoccupied, which makes what I have to do that much easier. I feel the beginnings of a coy smile tug on my lips at the sight. It’s the first time I smiled in God knows how long. Hopefully, this one will be different.
I take my hands out from the front pocket of my black hoodie and raise its hood over my head. I then return my hands to the switchblade and vial that rest in its front joint pouch, ready to poach.
He turns the corner, and I put more bounce into my step. A couple of guys brush past me as I round the corner, but no one blinks twice.
No one suspects a girl to do these sorts of things—their mistake. I’m just as capable if not more lethal than anyone else.
I’m positive that the dude I’m tailing isn’t a demon, but I have a vial of Holy Water, just in case. Other than a knife or two, I’m unarmed. Not the brightest decision, I know, but I’m not looking to cause a scene, and I need to fit the part. I know my limits, so if it is a demon by chance, the Holy Water can buy me some time before I make my escape. The area is getting far too hot, and the people in the know are getting harder and harder to come by. Murders, massacres, and break-ins, these are just a couple of things that are tied to me in one way or another. If demons didn’t have their hands in the police force, this place would be plastered all over the news. But then again, even with their meddling, demons can only do so much. People are bound to talk, and the city’s pulse never stops. Not all demons are connected. The same goes for members of the occult. That’s where I come in. Nothing beats a little espionage. If you say the right thing, you’re bound to get the response you’re looking for. Lord knows I need it. I’m running out of options.
The man I’m tailing makes a turn into an alley, presumably heading towards more of what the night has to offer. I could wait; tail him a bit more, but I decide to make my move. He’s isolated now, and I’m not sure what the rest of the night will bring.
I plant my feet, coming to a complete stop. A breeze of Chicago air brushes against my face, swishing a few stray hairs over my eyes until the wind settles. “Hey…mister.” The words hit his back, and he pauses—stutters. He turns to face me, a finger pointing at his chest.
“Me?” His middle-aged face scrunches as he takes a step towards me in confusion.
“Yeah…” I approach him unassumingly, but as I get closer, the fire in my eyes burns through my facade. He tries to turn and make a run for it, but I grab him and shove my body weight into him, forcing him against the back door of one of the city’s sights.
“Wha—hey! What are you doing!? Somebody—”
“Calm the fuck down, gramps. I’m on your side… Or at least I think I am.” I press my switchblade against his back but without enough pressure to make an incision. “I’m looking for Desmond. Where can I find him?” As I push the blade slightly forward, his back tenses.
“D-Desmond is dead.”
“So I’ve heard, but I’m not buying it.”
“No, really. He was killed last week. You must not be from around here.”
“No, I’m not…Minnesota. Was it hunters?”
“Who else?”
“That would explain a lot. I’ve been trying to get in contact with him for about a week now. I knew something wasn’t right.” I ease my blade away from his back and sigh. The middle-aged man relaxes his shoulders and turns to face me, fully entangled in my web of lies.
“They went after some crazy bitch after she exposed a drug operation in the area. They caught her, but she escaped. All hell broke loose when she brought her friends back to repay the deed,” he explains while dusting himself off.
“Well, shit.” I smirk. “My coven is going to have a field-day with this. Anyway, I was hoping that you could lead me to Desmond, but since he’s dead, maybe you can help. We were talking about something I stumbled upon…a symbol.” I unfold a piece of paper from the pocket of my jeans and show him a drawing of the seal etched into my arm. “What does this mean to you? I came across it in Arkansas. Doesn’t look like anything I’ve seen before, but my people are worried. We need answers.” He squints at the paper and adjusts his glasses as he analyzes my drawing.
“…I have no clue what it means. Was it on a building or at a ritual site? It could be anything, really. I haven’t seen anything like it before.”
“Ritual site.”
“No clue, then.”
“Figures. I’ve been getting that a lot lately. No one knows a fucking thing around here. It’s starting to piss me off.”
“If you want, I can take a photo of it and send out some feelers. Asking them directly is risky. They have such bad tempers. Let m—” I thrust my knife into the side of his neck as he reaches for his phone. He grabs at his neck, desperate to halt the bleeding, but falls to the ground shortly after failing to plug his wound. I watch him as he struggles to cling onto whatever life he has left, admittedly, longer than I should. His eyes gloss over, but I don’t feel a thing.
I couldn’t care less even if I tried to.
“That won’t be necessary,” I say as I hover over him. “Thanks though. And for the record, I’m that crazy bitch that killed Desmond, soon to kill you.”
Chapter 3: The Morning After
“Excuse me. Pardon me.” I shimmy my way between the rows of people dressed in black, only to be met by Abby’s warm embrace. She squeezes me tight, and I look up at the graying sky as she rocks me from side to side.
“Hey, Sailor. How’ve you been? We saved you a seat in the middle,” Abby says as she gently strokes the side of my shoulder.
It’s been a little over a week since we broke into Desmond’s prison and killed him.
Benjamin, of course, being collateral.
“I’m getting there.” I flash a smile that’s short-lived before slipping past her, her fingertips grazing the back of my black attire before they fall to her side. “Blaze.” I lean in to hug Blaze, but he winces once our bodies connect. “Sorry,” I say as I pull away. “Still sore?” It was a dumb question to ask, considering that his arm is resting in a sling.
“Just a teensy bit.” He laughs. “You had me worried for a bit, Ray, but I’m glad you made it,” Blaze says with a smile.
“I tend to keep my promises, for the most part. Besides,” I begin as we mutually sit, “you’re the one who got banged up the most at the prison.” I scoff. “If anything, you would be the one to ghost-out.”
“It’s good to see you again, Sailor,” Blaze says as he adjusts his suit with his good arm, ignoring my sass.
“Yeah. It’s good to see you too… Have you guys spoken to Ben’s mom? She was greeting people out front and flagged me down. We exchanged a few words.”
“Yeah, she seems to be doing better. It must be tough.” Abby frowns.
“No doubt. I can only imagine.”
No one expects to bury their child, but that is exactly what Sarah Evans has to do. Not too long ago, her husband died as well, leaving her alone. As the minister spoke, I tried my best to keep m
y emotions level. I’m all too familiar with death, but seeing Sarah Evans break out into tears halfway through the message caused me to doubt my tenacity. It was a gut-wrenching sight to see. The moment her son passed, Sarah was left with nothing. What could she possibly live for?
I know the feeling…but then again, I don’t.
I can’t fathom losing someone you’ve brought into this world to something so random. I can’t fathom losing them, period. It’s just not right to think that way under normal circumstances. I think that’s why my dad wanted me to stay away from hunting.
Everything we were up against didn’t have a conscience. Monsters in the truest sense. People died, hunters or not. Old or young. He had to do what he had to do. I get that now. He wanted to avenge my mom, but he also wanted me to be safe. That’s why he taught me what he could—that’s why he didn’t want me to go to the raid that ultimately killed him.
I know he was relieved to see me once he realized he was going to die, but at the same, I can tell it broke his heart when he saw that I could possibly die by his side. That’s why he sacrificed his life for mine. A parent’s instinct is to protect, and that’s what he did until the very end.
I miss him. He wasn’t the best dad, but he was my only one. Mom, too.
And not a day goes by that they don’t cross my mind.
When they lowered Benjamin to the ground, ironically, that’s when the sky finally decided to burst. The rain that fell found its way into the slight dip in my ridged headpiece before finally falling to the ground. I didn’t bother bringing an umbrella; an intentional choice.
“Sailor, are you okay?” Abby brushes her hand just barely above my elbow, grabbing my attention while she shelters a part of me with her umbrella from the rain. I guess she can tell by my face that things aren’t all sunshine and rainbows in my neck of the woods.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I lie to her, my eyes studying the burial grounds, “but I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this feeling.” A few days ago I attended Morgan Law’s funeral; the waitress at Vickie’s Coffee House who died after being Desmond’s vessel. His expulsion was too violent and mashed the knife I stabbed her with into her spine, leaving her paralyzed from the waist down. Unfortunately, losing her legs wasn’t enough. It only made her an easier target…and a lesson for me. Before they captured Ben and me, they made Morgan crawl for her life before shooting her in the head right in front of me. To make matters worse, she wasn’t recognized as a victim of demonic possession at her funeral, but rather, a lunatic and some crazed, lonely psycho. Of course, that wasn’t the case, but demons managed to put a spin on it and slander Morgan’s name. Murder-suicide is what they tagged it as, but I know what really happened.
Sailor Ray and the Beautiful Lie (The Pact Book 3) Page 1