by Lowe, Aden
Georgie could hardly conceal her elation. Not only did she know a bit more about what to expect, she had permission to explore and poke around as much as she wanted. "Thanks." Now where should she start? She took a good look around the kitchen. "That the only broom you have?"
The woman looked up and gave a fake smile. "I wasn't exactly planning to be Susie Homemaker. Forgive me, but I didn't go stock up on cleaning supplies." She turned back to her book. "Now get out of my hair."
A flash of inspiration hit. "Just one more thing. If I had a tool, like a knife or something, I could make a better broom, I think. Is there something I can use?"
A page rustled in the book. "Sure. I think there's a hatchet there behind the door. Verin had to cut down some bushes on our way in. And there are knives, too. And don't bother trying to take my head off with the hatchet. I'll be watching."
Elation coursed through her. "Okay." She could do a lot of things with a hatchet, besides make a broom. She looked behind the door and found the rusty tool. She had no intention of letting that thing out of her hand any time soon. Lilith hadn't said anything about taking off Abaddon's head with it.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Kellen pointed at him. "You ain't going nowhere until you get that wound looked at again. Doc's on his way over now."
Dix fumed but sat silently and waited with the other Raiders went to get geared up for the ride. He felt fine. His ribs barely hurt anymore and his head was just a little tender. He didn't need the Doc any more than Kellen or Trip did.
Trip paused in the midst of issuing orders. "Hey Fabio, make sure you bring along plenty of fireworks and extra hardware."
"Got it, boss." Fabio lifted a hand and headed out the front door, presumably to get guns and explosives ready.
Dix felt a little better that they weren't going in empty-handed. He'd worried the Raiders would underestimate Belial and consider him just a random crackpot. If they thought that, at least they intended to take no chances.
"Doc's here." Badger came through the door followed by a heavyset middle-aged man carrying a black bag that looked like something out of a TV show about small town doctors. "Patient's over there, Doc." Badger waved him toward Dix and headed back out to the porch.
Dix raised a hand to make sure the Doc saw him.
The man nodded and started his way. "Well, you certainly look better than you did last time I saw you." He set his bag on a coffee table and pulled it close, then waited while someone brought a straight-back chair over for him. After digging in the bag for a minute, he took a blue-wrapped bundle from a sealed bag, donned gloves, and spread the bundle out to reveal a small assortment of instruments and supplies. "Okay, let's take a look. Pull your shirt away, please."
Dix sighed a little and sat forward to remove his cut, then lay back. He waited, trying to stay patient, while the Doc cut away the old bandage.
The doctor looked at him closely for a solid minute. "Huh." He opened another packet and placed a sopping wet cloth on the wound. "Sorry, I know it's cold. I need a better look." He scrubbed, none too gently, at the area.
Dix held his breath against the cold trickles rolling down his belly and side. Strangely enough, that was the worst part of having his injury cleaned. There must be numbing medication in the water.
Shaking his head, the doctor sat back. "Son, did you eat or drink anything unusual? Put anything on the injury?"
The concern in the man's voice got Dix's attention. "No. Why?"
"Okay, nothing to worry about. I need to get a closer look. Can you move to the couch where you can lay flat?"
Dix shrugged. "Sure." He complied, careful not to make any sudden moves. The last thing he needed was torn stitches to delay him from getting to Georgie. He lay there, waiting while the doctor inspected his ribs, using a light and pushing and pulling and prodding.
Finally, he sat back and shook his head. "I can't explain this. The wound is closed, almost completely healed. The ribs seemed to be healed more than they should be too. This looks a week old, instead of a day."
Dix raised his eyebrows. "What does that mean?"
"It means you've healed at an accelerated pace. I expected to find you in a great deal of pain, the wound possible still seeping, and I wouldn't have been surprised if you were feverish, given the time it went uncleaned. Instead, you're still a little tender, but the stiches can come out. I'd suggest keeping the ribs taped to protect them, but you can move around."
His mind spun in the attempt to process the information. "How did this happen?"
The doctor shrugged. "I don't know. I can only speculate that it's a response to stress."
Dix nodded, not willing to get into the cause of his stress. "Look, Doc, I need you to keep this quiet. Tell Kellen, but no one else. Understood?"
"Of course." He dragged on a fresh pair of gloves. "Let's get those stitches out and get you taped up."
Dix closed his eyes and waited through the slight pulling sensation, then sat up for the tight binding to be applied. "Thanks, Doc." He shrugged back into his cut and stood. He didn't wait for the guy to clean up. As far as he was concerned, he was cleared to ride, so he had shit to do. Thinking about how he might have healed a week's worth in just a day ranked way low on his list at the moment. He could worry about that after he had Georgie back safe in his arms.
He made it back to first the sick room to retrieve his phone, then his own room, without much trouble. It only took a few minutes to throw what he needed into a bag. Finished, he took a quick look around. He might not see the little cubbyhole again, if Belial had his way. Hopefully the next occupant would appreciate it as much as he had.
Out in the living room, Hell Raiders made ready to roll while others double checked the home defenses. Not one to leave things to chance, Kellen kept up with the details of what everyone was doing. When Dix approached with his bag, he gave him a long look.
"You sure you're ready for this, kid?"
Dix nodded. "I am. You talked to the Doc?"
"Yeah. Damnedest thing I ever heard of."
"Me too, but I'm glad. I got no time to be laying around sick in bed."
"I heard that." Kellen lit a smoke. "You're all strapped up?"
"Yeah. Everything I can carry and then some."
"Good deal. You think these crazies will fight?" Worry made Kellen look several years older.
"No doubt about it. And it probably won't be like anything we've ever seen before. They might not be recognizable as human, if they've learned to manifest a demon. And they might not use regular weapons. Need to pass it around for the boys to be ready for their worst nightmare to come true, too." Dix hated delving back into that world, but Belial and the others gave him no choice. His only chance was to hope the things he'd learned to combat their brand of crazy would work in close combat.
"Oh, hey, Stella and the boys found your bike and hauled it in. Badger gave it a once-over. Looks like they didn't touch it." Kellen shook his head. "I don't get it. That would be my priority if I wanted to hurt a biker."
"Yeah, but they don't know bikers. Still, I'm going to take a close look at it myself, just to be safe."
"Good." Kellen turned to speak to someone else and Dix made his escape.
The talk of his bike had brought up new concerns. Lilith, and probably some of the others, could damage it without even coming near. Kellen would have thought he'd hit the pain meds a little too hard if he explained, so he'd skipped it.
Memories surrounded him as he walked out the front door in search of his bike. The only time he'd seen Lilith perform a solo ritual, she'd spun for hours, like a dervish. Finally, toward dawn, she collapsed. He learned later that was roughly the time of the accident.
Lilith had developed a grudge against a girl in one of her classes at the community college, and it grew to the point where she decided to Work against the girl. The wreck wasn't a pretty sight. The news said the car had apparently accelerated hard and run head first into a massive oak tree. The girl's death ha
d been ruled a suicide, since no signs of malfunction could be found in the car. Dix knew better. Lilith had taken control of that car and plowed it into the tree.
The bike was parked in his usual spot and the tank was full. He looked it over carefully, then closed his eyes and tried to sense any tampering. Just because he found nothing didn't make him feel safe though. Rather than leave it to chance, he followed the mental steps he'd been taught and performed a brief cleansing and protection ritual.
Anyone watching would have seen a guy sitting on his bike, eyes closed and head back. The unseen steps made him feel better though. It seemed the further he went back into that world, the more real it became. Little things he'd never expected to use again, like that cleansing and protection, came back as if he never stopped doing them.
He spent a few minutes talking with some of the others, trying to prepare them for what lay ahead. He would prepare himself on the way. Facing Belial would be no cake walk. The man fought dirty, and the demon fought even dirtier. If he never came up against the bastard, he wouldn't regret it. Unfortunately, by taking Georgie, Belial had made the choice for him.
Dix wished he knew the details of Belial's escape plan. If he could prevent that from taking place, it might give them a little extra time. He went over what he knew about Belial. The easiest way to make it happen would be during a transfer. How did a guy go about being transported outside the facility? The only thing he could think of off-hand was a hospital. If an inmate became seriously ill, too much for the prison infirmary, he'd probably be transferred to a hospital.
Determined to figure it out and do whatever he could to thwart Belial's plans, Dix searched out Trip. It didn't take the VP long to find the closest medical centers to where Belial was being held. A handful of phone calls later, everyone who would listen had been warned that a dangerous inmate, Thomas Everett, intended to escape during an emergency transport to the ER. With any luck, that would do it.
Dix wandered back to his bike and moved into the column forming up in preparation. As the prospect, his place was at the back of the line, catching whatever oil and road dirt happened to get slung his way. He wouldn't object though. Hell, he'd eat a gallon of oil if it meant Georgie came home safe and sound.
Finally, two dozen Hell Raiders waited, assembled in front of the clubhouse in readiness. These men would face death for him without question, and he would do the same for them. A sense of belonging, unlike anything he'd ever felt, struck him. This was the family he'd always searched for.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Georgie sat on the edge of the porch once more and braided tough weeds into a makeshift sling for the hatchet Lilith had given her permission to use to make a broom. To hell with that. She wasn't letting that thing more than an inch away from her hand. If they asked, she would come up with some excuse why she needed to keep it.
While she was at it, she also made cords to tie around the necks of water bottles so she could hang them over her shoulder and keep her hands free. She had three bottles, and would like to have three more before nightfall.
Unless she missed her guess, she'd better make her move tonight. The others expected the one they called Belial to arrive sometime tomorrow. She'd rather be long gone before he got there. From what they'd said, she doubted she'd like him much.
Not for the first time, she wondered what kind of cult this might be, and how Dix came to be involved. They definitely had a major hate-on for him, so maybe he'd been a long term enemy or something. She probably didn't want to know. It all seemed creepy as fuck.
A glimpse of that book Lilith was always writing in was enough to make sure she didn't try for another look. Drawings of horrific figures filled the page and tiny script packed every available space. It reminded Georgie of some kind of text from the Middle Ages, when they'd seen witches around every corner and tortured people into to accusing neighbors of cursing cows.
Satisfied with her hatchet sling and the cords for her water bottles, Georgie went in search of materials to make a passable broom to clean some of the empty rooms with. She took time for a quick stop at the bush where she'd hidden her other water bottles and tied them up. The other strings she left behind to wait for more bottles. If by some chance she couldn't get more, she would just take the cord. It would be useful, at any rate.
A big tree stood at the edge of what might have once been the yard, and smaller saplings of the same kind surrounded it. Choosing carefully, she chopped down one that seemed the right thickness and length. With the branches trimmed away, the wood proved too short for her purpose. She chose another and trimmed it with good results.
The first stick she sharpened and stuck the point into the ground by the bush that hid her stash. With a little fluffing, the leaves hid her makeshift spear thoroughly. Moving on, she found a place where a uniform type of grass grew thick, and pulled several big handfuls of it. The stems were nearly three feet long, so hopefully they would work.
Earlier she'd spotted a rotted fence post with a strip of rusty wire still attached. Careful of the sharp brambles growing into what was left of the old fence, she pulled the wire away and broke a piece of it off. Back at the porch, she managed to maneuver the grass stems into a bunch around the branch and secured them snugly with some of the wire. Careful not to dislodge them, she pulled the top ends down and bound the rest of the wire around it to conceal the sharp point she'd created on the end of the broom handle. With the stems on the wooden porch, she used the hatchet to trim the whole thing off to a uniform edge.
Now she had several weapons at her disposal, with the steel bar, the spear, the improvised broom, and of course, the hatchet. Fatigue settled into her muscles along with the satisfaction of a job well-done. She would have to rest before she could hope to run.
She inspected the bedrooms as much as possible and finally settled on the cleanest one. Careful of insects, she swept away as much of the debris on the floor as possible. It wouldn't be comfortable, but beggars couldn't be choosers. With a suitable patch of floor cleaned, she closed the door and lay down with her broom at her side and her hatchet in her hand.
***
She lay there in the dark, unsure what had woken her. Listening carefully, she picked up voices from somewhere else in the house, probably the kitchen. Careful to stay quiet, Georgie climbed to her feet and clutched at her weapons.
How much time had passed since she lay down? She could have slept another week at least. Using the broom, she felt her way toward what she hoped was the door. Finally she reached the wall and continued along it until her fingers found the doorframe. Trying to stay silent, she pushed the door open and waited for her eyes to adjust to the electric light glowing in the other part of the house.
She needed the bathroom, badly, so she stepped into the hallway, prepared to face the wrath of Lilith for disappearing. The bitch's yelling would have to wait until Georgie visited the outhouse though. She wasn't going to be able to wait that long.
In the kitchen, Naberius smiled up at her from the table. "You have a good nap, sleeping beauty?"
"Uh, sure." She hurried past, heading for the door.
"Aw, come on. I'm all alone here. Join me for dinner. Keep a lonely guy company." The man's tone scraped along her nerves.
She suppressed a shudder. No fucking way. "I'll be back in a minute." Not giving him a chance to say more, she hurried out. A momentary pause near the halfway point to the outhouse allowed her to grab the steel bar she'd hidden. Keeping it close to her thigh and out of sight, she rushed on for the outhouse. No running on a full bladder.
Pulling her jeans back up, she weighed her chances. The man said he was all alone. Hopefully that meant the others had left. One jerk she could handle. But what about the voices she'd heard? Who else had spoken?
She clicked off the flashlight and opened the door and came to a quick decision. It didn't matter who was there. With no idea how far she might have to run to reach help, she needed more information, and food. Escape would do no good i
f she passed out from hunger in the woods and something ate her.
Decision made, she found a new stash for her supplies and went back to the house. The guy Naberius still sat at the table. "What's for dinner?" She took her seat.
The man grinned. "I'm really surprised you agreed to eat with me." He passed her a plate loaded with a steak, roast potatoes and corn. "Figured you'd just go back and hide out somewhere."
"Why would I? I'm hungry, so might as well eat." She tried like hell to keep her voice steady and casual.
He threw his head back and laughed. "Smart girl. You're going to need all the strength you can get. The Dark Lord is a bit demanding of his Consort."
The perfect chance for information. "Who exactly is this Dark Lord?"
Naberius looked at her, as if dumbfounded. "Are you serious? The Dark Lord is the one you know as Satan. How can you not know that?"
Careful to hide the shudder that passed through her, Georgie lifted one shoulder in a half-shrug. "Sorry, I don't keep up on religious stuff." She took the first bite of her tender steak. "You guys really think you can get Satan to come here?"
He smiled. "Of course we can, along with any number of demons. Belial will be here tomorrow and he will manifest the Dark Lord during the Great Rite ceremony in three days. As the Consort, you get the honor of being fucked by Him."
This time she couldn't hide the dread that rolled over her. "Somehow I think only a guy would consider that an honor. If it's such a big deal, why isn't Lilith volunteering for duty?"
One dark brow wen up. "That's a good question; one I'll ask as soon as Belial returns."
"When will that be?"
"In the morning. You'll get to meet him then, unless Lilith keeps him to herself until the Ritual." He took another bite of his own steak. "She seems a little jealous of you being the Consort."