by Wayne Tripp
“But you said he won’t fully change until the new moon. That’s about two weeks away. We’ve got time, right?”
“Not really. Basic biology, Eric. The simple natural law that a species will do anything to survive. In order to preserve their kind, the sexual organs are one of the first things to change. And even though he’s already trapped within the cycle and well on his way towards the terminal phase, Rakshasas like Jamie are affected by strong emotion. Love, hate–RAGE. I’m afraid his chaotic emotional squall will just speed things up.We’ve got to snag Jamie tonight!”
Chapter 53
Chief DeCosta clicked off eBay as the couple walked into his office unannounced. He was pissed. He hadn’t completed his bidding for the plastic replica of Payton Manning’s helmet; now he’d have to waste time going through the whole process again. “What can I do for you, special agents?”
Although the attractive pair could’ve graced the cover of any Hollywood Glam rag, DeCosta had been around long enough to smell a Fed. What were they doing on his island and how much did they know?
“Chief DeCosta? Special agents Snow and Tyler. Captain Smiley was good enough to give us directions from the ferry dock. I wonder if we might have some of your time.” The senior agent took charge confronting DeCosta. His blond partner kept her mouth shut, quietly flitting about the crammed office, taking in the cluttered sports memorabilia and toys.
“Smiley’s back then? Boat all repaired?”
“Actually, we found him at the Red Parrot in Newport, a bit worse for booze. It just took a little gentle persuasion to convince him to bring us across. My partner, Trudy, is a Louisiana city girl,” Agent Snow indicated the attractive woman currently making a face at him. “She hates to walk down country lanes in three inch heels, so we had to bring the Ford across. You understand, I’m sure. But to the business at hand, Joe. Your name is Joseph, correct, Chief DeCosta?” DeCosta nodded without taking his eyes off Special Agent Tyler. He’d been busily sizing up the back of her legs as she stretched to read the fine print on his latest sports acquisition.
“Anyway, Joe, we understand you’ve been having a series of bizarre murders. A Lois Ricci, Rufus Soares, and Cyrus Skinner–you’re building quite a list. Could you tell us why your prime suspect is your own detective?” Agent Snow consulted a small notebook he’d clutched in his right hand. “MacLeod, is it? James MacLeod.”
Watching Agent Tyler like a slithering serpent stalking a tiny bird, Chief DeCosta consulted his long fingers with the professionally manicured nails, and flashed a toothy grin. Agent Tyler forced a brief smile back, as if well aware Chief DeCosta was undressing her with his penetrating red-flecked eyes. Never taking his eyes from her face or breasts, DeCosta leaned back in his high backed leather rocker, and sized up the two FBI agents before him. How much bull shit would they swallow? What were his chances of getting into the panties of the woman?
“Ah yes, the Mad Scotsman–that’s what we call him around here. Our Detective MacLeod.” He beamed the grin of an expectant shark. “I hardly know where to begin.”
Chapter 54
“Sweetling!”
“In here, Jamie. There’s really no need to shout. It’s been such a long time. Come on in, and take a load off. I imagine you’ve had a rather trying day.” Principal Sweetling forced a crocodile’s smile and patted the worn seat of the red velvet Queen Anne’s chair positioned precisely opposite his own. Both bracketed a smoky fire, the only source of flickering light in the brooding room.
Entering cautiously, MacLeod approached Gerry, marveling and disgusted by the vast herd of taxidermy nightmares. “Geez, Sweetling. Did you leave anything living in the woods? Don't you think it might have been a good idea to learn how to do this well before you slaughtered so many?”
“Practice makes perfect I always say.”
“Perfectly awful,” MacLeod muttered to himself. Nearby, he spied a stuffed calico cat that looked uncomfortably familiar. It had to be a recent botch job because there was hardly any dust blanketing its back. In the dim light it was impossible to be certain, but he hoped it wasn’t Lacey’s Allegro. He prayed she hadn’t seen it.
“Oh do sit down, Jamie. Your glaring is making me nervous. Surely we can talk about our differences like civilized men.” Gerald took a good long look at the uneasy man still standing off to one side, noting his not too subtle physical changes. Sneering, he commented, “I see you’ve changed for the occasion.”
In spite of his restraint, Jamie had been unable to totally control his shifting. His features looked strained with fatigue and pent up rage. Although his appearance had fluttered back towards human, obvious changes had taken firm root. His arm and leg muscles were stronger, far more pronounced. The limbs themselves were sheathed in short white fur striped black like a tiger. Halfway down his forearms the fur bled off, replaced by rich cerulean blue flesh that ended in long black fingers tipped with three inch claws. When he flexed those fingers, Sweetling could see thin translucent webs joining each finger. Although his handsome boyish face remained the same, his eye teeth had lengthened to fangs, more like sharks than wolf, while his long hair barely hid pointed ears covered in patterned white fur. Sweetling tittered. To think the Standish kid had thought he was a werewolf. Kids today. No imagination. He estimated Jamie was about halfway through his change. He’d have to tread lightly; strong emotion would send him hurtling over.
“Enough! Where is she? What have you done with Lacey, you worm!”
“Ah, you always were the impatient one. You’ve come for the ladies then. I actually expected you earlier Jamie. Run into a little trouble, did you?”
“Cut the shit asshole. Ladies? Who else would you–oh no! Kat?”
“Why yes. The lovely Miss O’Hara. Like opposite bookends, one’s no good without the other. You do love them both, I believe?” Gerald Sweetling took a second to lick his fingers and take a keen interest in a reddish brown something stuck beneath his nails. He hoped in the dim light MacLeod wouldn’t notice him checking for movement in the shadows. “I do have to say I prefer Miss Rodriguez’s womanly screams. She brought tears of joy to my eyes. The other one, Kat squeals like a stuck pig, don’t you agree?”
“If you’ve harmed either one of them, I’ll kill you.”
“Oh I’ve done far more than that my dear boy, I assure you. I’ve taken all I need. I have to say, Rodriguez put up quite a fight, but she’s really quite a slut when you get her going. Nothing quite like a fallen Catholic.”
Jamie’s face darkened in bestial fury, his handsome features distorted by primal rage. His left fist clenched until the knuckles turned bone white and his black claws grew longer, biting deeply into his thick palm pads. He itched to draw the ever-eager Thirst, his fist quivering with the effort to control his fury. Amused, Sweetling let loose a giggle as he watched the rage burning through his foe, and nonchalantly licked the last of Lacey’s blood from his fingers. “Oh my, you didn’t know. I gather she’s never told you? Naughty girl.” Gerald worked an ugly smirk on Jamie, but his eyes stared over the detective’s left shoulder. Aware, MacLeod’s blue eyes narrowed, but gave no hint he’d seen. “Ah, I see you’ve brought your little pig-sticker. What a repulsive toy-sword, Jamie.”
“Smile you smug bastard, for I’ve definitely found me a repulsive pig.”
“I don't believe you've ever met Thorn?” Gerald thumped his pudgy hand down on a dark and twisted shaft that looked incredibly like a giant roughhewn nail. “This handsome darling comes from the court of the last Barrow wolf. Some old Rhine war lord in the 9th century. A dabbler in the Black Arts, I’m told. Thorn's an armor-piercing war spike. I’ve seen it go through double breast plates–piercing your bare chest should be like punching through melted butter. A mere touch and you’ll die screaming. The flesh around the wound turns necrotic, and the infection spreads like a black flame. Works in minutes on humans. You’ll probab
ly linger longer, an hour or two in agony. Do it now, Grandfather!”
Although Jamie’s partial shape shift had given him bestial power and speed, Sweetling’s trap almost worked. Rough nailed hands grabbed at his arms, while Malachi Paine smashed him across the back with a blood-drenched sword shaped like a Satanist’s cross. Jamie jerked his sword arm free, and swept Thirst in a wide arc, slicing through a deer’s neck before hacking off the reverend’s upraised arm. Crouching, he spun in a wide defensive arc, realizing for the first time that not all the stuffed nightmares were dead. Among the silent glittery-eyed corpses, some things slithered and crawled, stalking towards him with murder in their blazing eyes. Jamie looked behind himself, catching Sweetling disappearing across the room. The principal moved with a speed belying his lumbering bulk. Wallowing through the shadows he quickly reached a hidden door on the far side of the room. As Jamie watched, he muttered some sort of guttural incantation, threw the door open and disappeared within. Jamie had a momentary glimpse of an endless stone tunnel slick with damp sea growth before the door slammed shut. By then Sweetling’s creatures were on him. He turned and began to fight for his life.
Chapter 55
Oh my god, there’s somebody in there! Kalini stopped her frantic search and listened to the muffled murmurings coming from the other side of the chamber door. “Hold on, I’ll get you out!” Looking down the row of nine rusty cubicles with identical brass doors, she gently pried opened the one before her. A terrified woman with large dark eyes stared out at her.
“Gods of my father–what have they done to you? What are all these nasty knives for? Oh shit! That’s so sick! Try not to move! I’ll get you out as quickly as I can.”
Kalini took a moment to look at the maze of moving gears, levers, and springs mounted outside the ancient chamber. According to the grimy brass timer, she had five minutes left. Hearing the helpless woman trying to talk, she turned towards her and quickly removed the duct tape stuck across her mouth.
“Sorry. I’m Kalini. You must be Lacey. I’ll have you out of this soon. Just don’t move. Where’s Sweetling?”
“H-he’s gone. There’s another woman in one of the other chambers. Kat. You should help her first. I’m pretty sure he cut off a few of her fingers. She’s hurt really bad.”
Still trying to figure out the working order of all the slowly turning gears, Kalini shook her head. “And you’re not?” She had taken in the scratches, deep cuts, and bite marks as well as the blood trickling down Lacey’s legs. “I’m getting you out first, sweetie.”
“Please hurry––h-he may come back.”
Kalini nodded, absorbed in her discovery that the dozen wicked blades poised to pierce Lacey’s body were harnessed to a large spring. Although the gear system was steadily inching the knives closer to her flesh, when the timer went off, it would release that coiled spring and all the blades would suddenly stab forward, biting deeply into the woman’s body. Maybe the wiring to the timer was the key, or jamming one of those gears. Even now, the longest blade was beginning to press Lacey’s tattered rags into her soft breast. It’d only take a few more slipping cogs before it bit into flesh. Kalini bent forward to remove an orange wire from the timer. As she did, a familiar necklace swung away from her chest.
“Y-you have Jamie’s tooth necklace. Is he all right?”
Busy trying to stop the nasty apparatus, Kalini answered mostly with nods and grunts. “This old thing? Token of our love.” Satisfied she’d disconnected the dangerous wire and temporarily jammed a couple gears, Kalini began working on Lacey’s bonds. As she leaned in closer to work on the knots tying Lacey’s wrists behind her, she noticed the woman’s spirit seemed to have crashed. “Don’t worry, Sweetie. I’m pretty sure I’ve stopped it in time. Just don’t squirm. I’ll get you out. Then we’ll go find Jamie. You’ve got a couple of pretty serious wounds. My god, you’ve been ill-used.”
That seemed to deflate the captive’s spirit even more, so Kalini shut up, concentrating on the stubborn knots. Judging by the severity of the captive’s bloody wounds, Sweetling had been having a great old time. The bastard. They had to get this woman to a doctor soon! Jamie’s rage would be unstoppable.
“So-so you love him then? Jamie? You love e-each other?” Coming through puffy bloodied lips, her speech was barely understandable.
Absorbed in one last knot, Kalini answered without hearing the tearful catch in the other woman’s throat. “Of course we do. Why wouldn’t I love him; he can be annoying as hell, but usually, he’s quite sweet. We’ve known each other forever. Let me get your ankles now. I’ve missed him terribly. I love Jamie so much I’d fight to the death for him.”
Biting back tears and a sudden ripping pain, the other woman managed to croak, “me too.”
Ignoring her, Kalini bent to work on a stubborn knot binding her ankles, while Lacey, terrified and confused, stared blindly at her rival’s back. Neither woman saw the huge dark shadow rise suddenly from the gloom. Only when the phantom brought the flesh-bound grimoire crashing down on Kalini’s head did Lacey scream. By then Sweetling had stepped into the feeble light, a monster raging with thwarted purpose. He smashed Lacey across the face until she passed out. Seizing her limbs, he roughly rebound her. Then he began reconnecting wires, clearing gears. Fuming, he cursed to himself as he gathered up the unconscious Miss Kalini, and dumped her in another cubicle. Giggling, he reset all the timers for four minutes. The last thing he did before disappearing down the spider’s hole back to his damp sea tunnel was to scribble a large note and attach it to the front of one chamber door.
Chapter 56
MacLeod was the last of the surviving rescuers to enter the room filled with hellish confessionals. It had taken him a while to fight his way through the monsters Jamie had once considered his friends. Pausing beneath the painted ancestors’ stares, he’d called Kalini’s name, and as he waited for her, he’d found time to run the flat of Thirst’s blade across his body. He met his friends fairly clean. Human. His friends turned as one when he walked in, strangely quiet. Only Reginald cleared his voice to speak. Jamie sensed something in the wind besides the sweet stench of blood. He looked around the room, obviously counting those still dear to him, and coming up short.
“Where’s Kalini? Why have you stopped searching? We must find Kathleen, and Lacey. The fiend took both of them. What is it– for God’s sake, Reginald––tell me!”
“They’re right here, my boy––all of them.” Choked with unusual emotion, Reggie thrust a crumpled piece of paper into Jamie’s clawed fist. “The bastard has got them all. In these infernal contraptions. Read it Jamie, though I fear the words are the one blade that will pierce your bestial heart.”
* * * *
Greetings MacLeod. It should be obvious by now even with your limited intellect that I have won. I have collected each of the three women that you love–you do love them, I trust– and placed them in random cubicles in my grandfather’s infamous line of confessionals. As you can see by the moving gears on top of each chamber, something is going on inside. A line of razor sharp blades is slowly advancing towards each of your women’s flesh. You may also notice a time on top of each chamber. These were set for four minutes when I left. I imagine you’ve a bit less time now. When the timer stops, all the blades will shoot forward at once, ending the lives of your miserable twats. Should you get here in time, you must pick one door, one woman to live. Releasing her will trigger all the other blades, disposing of the pair of losers. Choose wisely. Get going Jamie; after all, there can be only one. If you should get here too late, then my bad. Oops.
P.s. I would imagine after you’ve rescued your fair damsel and gotten her the medical attention she’ll no doubt need, you’ll want to track me down. I’ll make it easy for you. I’m in one of the rooms or tunnels somewhere in the old asylum. I will warn you, I am not alone. Do bring a snack, as I imagine you and your friends wi
ll be searching quite a while. And please, please, bring enough to share with everyone. Tic Toc. How time flies when one is having fun. I’d choose now if I were you, Jamie MacLeod.
Jamie stood there a second looking at the crumpled note in his hand. It obviously had been written earlier. Sweetling had no doubt hatched this diabolical scenario a while ago, and been working on it for a while, the monster. The two had been crossed out and three hastily put in, so it was a safe bet he hadn’t planned on getting Kalini into one of the confessionals too. Jamie quickly looked at the timers; he had less than a minute left. No time to lose.
“Now we got here a bit before you my boy, so I’ve been observing the nine confessionals," began Reggie. "Judging from the outside scuffing, and the little bit of muffled cries we’ve heard, I’d say they’re in #1, 5 and 6, or maybe 8. Now if we take those four chambers and eliminate the possibility of—–what are you doing? Jamie! Wait! How you can be sure which woman is where? Do you even know which one you want save?”
While the other survivors stared in horror, Jamie approached the long line of torture chambers. Sputtering, Reggie urged Jamie to wait, feeling the younger man would benefit from his learned opinion. Cold as ice, Jamie ignored his mentor’s babble, sniffed the front of four different doors, then twirled around and raced straight for confessional number three. Reggie yelled, begging Jamie to wait. There had to be a way to save all three. Jamie flashed an icy glare at Reginald and the others, turned, and tore open the chamber's door. Recoiling in startled horror, the frantic woman inside tried to squirm away until she saw the face of her rescuer.
Instantly, all down the line massive springs let go. A stinging swarm of knives slashed forward, at least a dozen slicing into soft flesh with a sickening sound. From the row of chambers came one agonizing scream and a yelp, both cut short. The doors to numbers one, five, and six vibrated and grew still. Then each began to leak blood. At first, the human rescuers stood in numb horror. MacLeod had made his choice; the two other young women had died.