“The man is no George Clooney,” she said aloud to no one at all.
Vega rounded the spot where Bill flopped in spasms, and the foul odor of his bowels releasing hit her nose. Sighing, she remembered no one else would be there to clean up the mess. She was the last one left. For a second, she thought about burning down the house, but then pushed the idea away and continued to her destination.
In the open drawer, she found all the paraphernalia a person would expect a lifelong addict and dealer to keep next to their bed. Carefully pinching the long rubber tourniquet between her fingers, she carried it to where Bill lay.
The feeling of power and strength surging through her as she stood above the dying man felt alien and wrong. Still, it surged. Somewhere, deep inside, she knew she should feel shame and grief. Maybe even remorse. Yet, nothing more than pride bubbled in her mind. She had survived him, body and mind still intact.
The thought of what he would have done to her if she hadn’t fought as she had, sent the desire to kick him as hard as she could skirting through her mind. But the sane part of her consciousness refused to allow the action.
No point in hitting him now. He’s not even conscious, and he’s as good as dead. Bruises don’t matter to corpses.
Fingers shaking so hard she could no longer hold on to the piece of rubber, Vega dropped the tourniquet next to Bill and whispered, “Guess this makes you my bitch now.”
Bill’s body stopped jerking, and his eyes rolled back down from where’d the had sunk into the back of his head. Wide and staring, the glassy brown pinpoints in the bloodshot orbs lost the dull glare that Vega had grown so accustomed to.
Chest still and skin ashen, Bill looked much older than he had in life. Despite all his drug using and drinking, despite a life of hard living, he’d remained the type of guy that other druggies and drunks had always found attractive. Now, he looked like a corpse that had been dug back up after three days.
For a moment, Vega almost felt sorry, but then her eyes trailed to his still exposed and flaccid member. The rolling disgust almost caused her to vomit as she bent down, hand reaching toward him. If she wanted it to look like an overdose, she couldn’t leave him looking like that.
Her hand reached slowly forward, but stopped a foot away. With a sob, Vega cried out, “I can’t do it!” Then, in a hushed and trembling tone, she mumbled, “I can’t touch him. Not there. Not anywhere. I can’t touch his body and not lose my mind.” Yet, she couldn’t leave him that way.
On and hands and knees, Vega crawled away from the dead body. Leaned against the wall for support, she wrapped her arms around her knees and rocked back and forth. She didn’t want to even look at Bill as the color drained from his flesh, but a part of her still feared he might wake up. Then her nightmare would start all over again.
The clock on the nightstand counted the minutes in red as she forced herself to concentrate. Make a plan. Deal with the body. Hide the bruises. Cry all you want. It will only help make you look innocent. Whatever you do, don’t let them think you did this.
At last, Vega found the strength to stand and exit the room. Down the hall, she tore into her dresser and pulled out whatever pajama pants and tank top she could find. Then, because she still felt exposed and vulnerable, she threw her ratty robe back on before she crossed the room.
Her reflection in the vanity mirror looked far better than she’d expected. Even the fading red mark on her cheek wasn’t clear enough to be recognized as a handprint, and Bill had been sure to deal most his blows to her body. Hands smoothing back her tangled her, Vega breathed a sigh of relief.
“Okay. It’s almost over. Just a few more things to do, and you’ll be free,” she told herself before turning to leave the room.
On the way to the kitchen she snatched up the wet towel that had fallen from her hair in the struggle. “One more issue solved,” she told the bare walls.
However, as she grabbed up the phone she looked down to see her nails bloody and torn. Almost forgetting what she’d originally gone to get, Vega washed her hands in the sink until the bloody swirl turned clear. As if nothing unusual had taken place at all, she pulled a pair of clippers and a file from the kitchen drawer and cleaned away the remnants of the battle she’d fought.
No way would she be able to hide the scratches on Bill’s face and arms, but if she could conceal the fact that she’d caused them, it might be okay.
Once her hands looked untouched by the horrors she’d experienced less than twenty minutes before, Vega stepped back into Bill’s room. With her plan repeating in her mind, she could handle what would come next. In fact, her movements were so precise and callous that she wondered if she were still human at all.
Knees inches from Bill’s body, Vega wrapped the towel around her hand, positioned it over Bill’s groin, and closed her eyes. Using her unwrapped hand to tug up on his open fly, she shoved Bill back inside his pants—gagging the entire time. The vile taste of dry heaving only made her choke more, but finally, she finished.
Once she could breathe again, Vega set to work on covering her tracks as best she could. The damp towel felt heavy in her tired arms as she wiped the blood smears from the welts her nails had left behind, but afterward, the damage looked much less noticeable. Then, with nimble and quick fingers, she buttoned up the flannel shirt Bill wore and rolled down the sleeves.
The needle still jutted out of Bill’s neck, and the tourniquet still lay beside him where she’d let it fall. The drawer held plenty of drugs and paraphernalia, and the fact that the bed was a mess wouldn’t mean anything at all. The police knew Bill used and sold drugs, and addicts overdosed all the time. No one would expect a thing since his girlfriend had recently died and half the town could contest to the bender Bill had been on since.
At least that’s what Vega told herself as she fell backward, landing on her butt and scooting away from the way Bill’s dead fish eyes stared at her. With tears in her eyes from retching, she took deep, gasping breaths and dialed the phone without thought. Silence penetrated her mind as she waited for the answering voice on the other end of the line.
“Clay County Nine-One-One. Please state the nature of your emergency.” The woman’s voice sounded bored, uncaring.
“My…m-my mom’s boyfriend isn’t breathing. I think he’s dead! Oh god, I think he overdosed. There’s a needle in his neck. Please send help. I don’t know what to do.”
****
“What did you do?” Eurynome’s voice boomed in the darkness.
The chains holding Zane prisoner tightened, stretching his limbs out in a torturous embrace. As his muscles and bones strained and cracked, he bit down on his cheek, tasting blood but refusing to scream.
“Answer me, you little fool!” the greater demon roared.
Zane grinned, his smile revealing bloodstained teeth as he watched the death eater stalk back and forth in front of him.
Over the years, the demon had begun to appear more like a human man than the monster he’d been on the day Vega had made a deal with him. But—despite the white-blond hair flowing down his broad back, the chiseled jaw, and the impressive height and muscle tone—a feral beast still glared out from his onyx eyes.
Another twist of the chains and Zane could no longer hold back the agonizing scream pushing against his lips. With sweat dripping off his dark locks and down his sallow face, he struggled against his bonds until he couldn’t withstand the torment his efforts caused.
He’d used all his power to save Vega by sending an image of the gun in the nightstand, and his body couldn’t fight against the torture tearing his body apart. Slumped forward, chin resting on his bare chest, he cried.
“Save your tears, boy. They have nowhere to fall here, except into pits of fire where they will sizzle like the flesh of the damned. Unless you want to know those flames personally, tell me what you did.”
“Nothing,” Zane answered in a harsh and bone-dry whisper
Eurynome eased closer, massive claws sliding out f
rom long, thin fingers. “Nothing? You did nothing? I felt the shift in the void! I know you’ve done something. Confess or suffer.”
Zane gritted his teeth. No escape. Never an escape from the pain. Vega! Images flashed in his mind. Thirteen women’s faces danced in front of him, illuminated by the flames. Orange and yellow light from the blaze fell on their hair and reflected in their eyes.
The many faces of Vega, he thought. The body changed, but the spirit and the name remained the same. My love, give me strength, for I am faltering. It’s been too long, and I am so tired.
Eurynome smiled. “If you will not tell, I will just see for myself.” The sharp tip of his talon drew a line over Zane’s heart, cut into the flesh of his belly, and ended in a sharp puncture at his hip. Blood, rage, and sadness scented the air.
He lifted a tiny drop of Zane’s blood to his lips and tasted the crimson liquid. A second passed, then two, before Eurynome screamed, “You got through! You cheated! You can’t see her! You can’t go to her! You can’t speak to her! It’s against the rules.” The greater demon sounded like a petulant child as he stomped and yelled out his accusations.
The laugh pouring from Zane sounded more like an old man’s dying rasp, but he raised his swirling blue eyes and taunted his captor. “Cheated? Come on now, old friend. Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? You’ve broke the rules every step of the way.”
“You will pay for what you did!” With a roar of indignant rage, Eurynome twisted his thick fingers in Zane’s dark hair, yanking his head back until the muscles strained.
Blood and spittle showered into the demon’s face as Zane cackled. “I think I’ve been paying for Vega’s life for a long time now, Eurynome. Isn’t that my part in your little game?”
The demon’s eyes narrowed, a look of pure evil smearing across his handsome features. “Then she will pay for your mistakes.”
Chapter Four
The house was once again quiet. Bill’s body had been hauled away, and Vega’s lies had worked. Another tragic incident in her life had come and gone, and now she had no one left. Though she didn’t miss either her mother or Bill, the endless silence sometimes weighed down on her. Still, fear of being discovered as a murderer kept her inside the house where her victims had died.
After the police had released his body, Vega had called Bill’s sister in Colorado, needing to somehow cleanse herself of responsibility by doing one good thing. His family had been surprised by the news that Bill had killed himself. Instead, they’d apologized to Vega and promised they’d come to take away his body and his things. In such a short time, she’d lost her mother and Bill without a real funeral or fanfare.
Cold chills snuck up Vega’s spine. She couldn’t help feeling as if someone knew her deadly secrets. The sinking feeling that some stranger stood in the shadows, waiting for her, eyes watching her every move never seemed to go away. Guilt and shame over her misdeeds teased at the rough edges of her mind, promising she’d pay for the lives she had taken.
With shaking hands, she gripped the coffee cup, smelling the rich aroma rise up in the steam as tears drip down from her cheeks. “Murderer. Sinner. You’re going to hell,” she whispered to her reflection in the dark liquid.
Hard to believe, she’d been sitting in the same spot, waiting for the sunset with Bill screaming for food not so long ago. The sun had risen, the purple horizon bringing a new dawn, and Bill was dead.
“Dead and gone,” she told the darkened face.
A nightmare. It’s all a nightmare. I’m going to wake up, and Mom’s going to be screaming at the door. Bill’s going to be drunk at ten in the morning and cussing about her spending all his money. They can’t be dead. This can’t be real. I can’t be a murderer.
A part of her wanted to get up from the stool she’d been sitting on for hours and go to their bedroom. If I just open their door, I’ll see them. They can’t be gone. As terrible as they were, they can’t be dead. I can’t be a murderer.
Body still sore from fighting to save her life, Vega slowly stood. She had to hold onto the counter for a moment to keep her balance against the uncontrollable shaking of her limbs. In her mind, she saw Diana and Bill, passed out across the bed and snoring loudly. The thought reassured her enough that she took a single step, but then she couldn’t make herself go any farther. Caught in a state of immobility, mind rendering her body useless as it warred between what she wanted to believe and the truth, Vega stared at the closed door down the hall.
The police had asked her if she had a place to stay, afraid being in the house where her mother and Bill had died would be too much. She’d lied, saying she was fine, but she’d call an aunt and go there. At the time, it had not seemed necessary, and she didn’t really have an aunt to go to. Yet, in that quiet moment between denial and reality, she wished more than anything she had somewhere else to be.
Waves of emotion crashed around her, making Vega reel, and she turned back to the stool too quickly. Her vision darkened as the dizziness brought the harsh taste of bile to the back of her throat. Almost blind, she groped for something solid as the feeling of falling surged through her body.
The floor seemed to drop away, and Vega threw out her hand, searching for something to hold onto. The whole world tried to swallow her whole. Sweat covered her brow as her temperature raised and a cold sweat broke out all over her body.
A voice rose echoed in the abyss surrounding her, driving into her mind like nails in a coffin. Diana’s face, angry and covered in blood, swam before Vega’s eyes. The woman’s mouth curled into a horrible smile as the deadpan eyes stared at her daughter as if she could see all the way to her soul.
“You killed me! Now, you want to stand here and feel sorry for yourself. I’m dead, and you want your mommy!”
The harsh edge of Diana’s voice cut through the thrumming of Vega’s blood in her ears like shards of glass slicing through the air. Around and around, her mother’s face spun. A sneer pulled her upper lip into an arc at the side of her mouth, and her nose crinkled with obvious disgust.
Vega opened her mouth to scream, but a shrill ringing took the place of her voice, and the darkness faded. Tiny, golden glints of light to dance before her eyes as she blinked away tears. The sickness nearly overwhelmed her, and she clamped her mouth shut to hold it back.
Though the rest of the hallucination ended, the piercing ring continued. It took a full minute for Vega to understand what horrible thing could make such a mind-splitting phone. Then, she realized it was only the phone.
Vega took a depth breath and slumped back down on the stool. Physical and emotional exhaustion pressed on her like heavy hands, drumming down on her will to survive like heavy rain stinging naked flesh. Out of pure instinct, she ignored her desire to never move again and answered the phone.
“He-llo.” Her voice dragged as if she had been sleeping, and Vega had to suppress the idea of trying to say the word again just to see if she could sound normal.
A professional and chipper voice replied, “Hello. May I speak to Ms. Vega Schwartz?”
Assuming it was someone from the police station, Vega answered, “This is her.”
“Ms. Schwartz, my name is Elizabeth Lance, and I am with the law firm McEwan, MacDughlas, and Drehmel. I am very sorry to hear about your loss.”
“Umm…thank you,” Vega mumbled.
Elizabeth continued without missing a beat. “Ms. Drehmel is handling your mother’s estate, and we need you to come down to the office whenever you have a moment. I understand this is a very difficult time for you, so there’s absolutely no rush.”
“Look…Mrs. Lance. I know my mother owed a lot of people money and stuff, but I have nothing. I’ve got a lot going on right now, too. Her boyfriend just committed suicide, and I have nothing to give.” She paused, sobs wracking her body as the words made everything that much more real.
“I…can’t pay you. I will try when I can figure out what I’m going to do next. I’m sorry.” Vega started to pull
the phone away from her ear, but the shock in the voice on the other end of the line made her pause.
“Ms. Schwartz. Wait! No, you don’t seem to understand. There is no debt. Ms. Drehmel would like to discuss the matter of your inheritance.”
“My what? You must be mistaken.”
“I am not allowed to discuss it in detail since I am not the executor of the estate. But, I assure you, there’s been no mistake.” A small amount of annoyance crept into the woman’s voice.
Or, maybe, she’s wondering if I’m nuts, Vega thought. Then, remembering she hadn’t answered, she asked, “Umm…okay. How’s ten o’clock sound?”
“That will be just fine, Ms. Schwartz. I will let Mrs. Drehmel know to expect you in about an hour. Have a nice day.”
“Yeah…. Thanks.” Vega hung up the phone and stumbled down the hall in a state of pure distress. Without much thought to her appearance, she pulled on a pair of jeans and a Volbeat t-shirt before slipping her socked feet into her favorite Chucks. Not bothering to brush her disheveled hair, she grabbed her purse and keys and left the house.
Vega’s thoughts on the drive downtown were a scattered collage of blood, death, murder, a mysterious inheritance, and worries about where she’d live once the landlord came to collect the rent. With her mother and Bill gone, there’d be no drug money to pay the bills.
In the worst of her moments, she talked to Zane. “I wish you were real. I wish you could be here. I’m so afraid. I don’t know what to do, and I can’t understand what I’ve done. I’m a monster, Zane. I need you.”
Of course, no answer came. Instead, music filled the car and the world outside her window carried on. Crying and snotty, Vega dug through her purse, searching for the tissues she’d placed there the day of her mother’s funeral. When she looked back up through tear-blurred eyes, she saw the sign and slammed on the brakes.
The parking lot was mostly empty, and she found a spot close to the doors. Though she didn’t care, Vega flipped down the visor and opened the mirror to wipe the tears from her face before exiting the car. Expensive SUVs and luxury cars filled the spaces beside the beat-up Volkswagen, and she smoothed the wrinkles out of her t-shirt in a subconscious gesture as she crossed the sunlit parking lot.
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