Ruined

by Jus Accardo

  Frank Spencer was the police chief now. He’d been a close friend of my mother’s, and had always looked out for me. I knew he felt bad. The entire Harlow Police Department did. They’d never caught the man—thing, I knew now—that murdered my parents. It was one of the town’s only unsolved crimes.

  Frank, a short, stocky man with a scant patch of thinning brown hair and a crooked grin, slid into the seat across from me wearing his standard frown. The poor guy had to get out more. He always looked like he was having a bad day. Pasty and irritable, he never smiled. “You want to tell me what the hell you were doing in that office, kid?”

  They’d separated Jax and me the moment we got to the station. I knew the drill. I sighed. “Would you believe we were on a scavenger hunt?”

  Frank rolled his eyes. “This is serious, Sam. You’re over eighteen now and that means criminal charges. You were just caught breaking and entering, and are suspected of possible arson. Give me something. Please.”

  “Arson?” I balked. “Because we tried to set ourselves on fire?”

  “So you’re saying you didn’t set the fire?”

  “I didn’t set the fire.”

  Frank slid a pen and note pad across the table. Tapping it twice, he asked, “Did Flynn set the fire?”

  “No!”

  “Why do I find that hard to believe?” As a patrolman, Frank had pulled Jax over shortly after he’d gotten his license. Jax thought it’d be funny to roll his window down a few inches, order a burger and fries, then roll up the glass and flip the man off. Needless to say, there was no love lost between the two.

  “He didn’t do it. Neither of us did.”

  Frank sighed. He leaned back in the chair and kicked both feet onto the tabletop. A watery memory fought its way to the surface. Frank, at my parents’ house, doing the same thing on my mother’s coffee table. She’d hit him with a rolled-up newspaper. “I see your choice in companionship hasn’t improved since we last saw each other. I’d hate to have to haul you in when he goes down—because we all know he will. You’re just starting to get your life together.”

  I was over eighteen, so they wouldn’t call my aunt, but Frank wouldn’t just let me walk out of that office without some kind of explanation. So I gave him one. The real one. “I was searching for information on someone who rents an apartment in that building. Me. My idea. My reason. Jax was helping me.”

  “So he came back to town to help you break into an apartment office building?” Frank snorted. “And who were you digging for information on? And why?”

  “I wanted to find the man who attacked me at school,” I said. Did it without a warble, too. “You can call the Huntington police if you don’t believe me. It’s the truth. Some guy attacked me.”

  Whatever he expected me to say, that wasn’t it. Frank’s demeanor changed instantly, going from hard-ass cop to concerned family friend. “Sam, if something happened, you can’t take matters into your own hands. You need to let the proper authorities handle this. Does this have something to do with your car ending up in the river?”

  “I think so. Yeah.”

  He scribbled notes on the pad. I tried to see what he was writing, but Frank kept the pad tilted up, away from my prying eyes. “What makes you think this person—who did you say it was?—is the one who attacked you? Did you see his face?”

  “I did some digging. That’s all I can tell you. His name is Bob Dowdy.”

  All the color drained from Frank’s face. “When did you say the attack occurred? You went to Huntington, right?”

  “Last month,” I said. “And, yeah. Why?”

  “I don’t know where you kids are getting your information from, but you’re wrong about Dowdy.” He leaned in, hesitating for a moment before blowing out a loud sigh. “Bob Dowdy was a person of interest in several cases involving local missing girls, but he was found murdered. He couldn’t have been the one who attacked you. He’s been dead for months.”

  Chapter Seventeen

  Jax

  When Spencer brought Sam out of the interrogation room, I was relieved to see the man didn’t look angry. It shouldn’t have surprised me. The guy had a soft spot for her—which had helped get her out of a lot of the trouble I’d gotten her into over the years.

  He walked her across the room and pointed to the chair across from his desk, next to mine. “Sit.”

  Silently, Sam did as instructed.

  “How long are you in town, Flynn?” he asked, taking the seat behind his desk. “And how many more times do you expect to visit my station?”

  “I’m only passing through. Don’t worry. Your women and children are safe.”

  “Somehow I doubt that,” he mumbled.

  I was about to make a smart-ass comment, but something about Sam caught my attention. She was leaning forward in her seat, subtly craning her neck to see onto the top of Spencer’s desk. I followed her gaze. There was a file with Dowdy’s name on the front.

  “I don’t want Sam anywhere near you when you go down—because we both know you will. Your kind always does.”

  Sam wanted that file. Only to get it, she’d need some help. “When I go down? Had that same talk with Lucy, did ya? I hear she goes down all the time.”

  Spencer’s face turned a pretty awesome shade of red. The last I’d heard, he and his daughter, Lucy, hadn’t spoken in years. She was currently the main act over at the Double Trouble, Harlow’s premier adult entertainment venue.

  Sam’s face got white as snow. Obviously the last thing she wanted right now was a throw-down between Harlow’s police chief and a cocky demon with an extreme attitude problem. Too bad, because she was about to get it.

  “I gotta take a leak,” I added just as Spencer’s face reached critical mass. He was cruising for a heart attack if he didn’t calm down. Nudging Sam’s foot with my boot to get her attention, I gave a subtle nod toward the desk. Even if she didn’t manage to get the file, the whole thing was worth the grin she gave me.

  “Sorry. No bathroom on the premises.”

  I stood and met the older man’s eyes with a challenge. “I passed a bathroom on the way in here.”

  “Out of order.”

  “The hell is it is,” I shot back.

  I took two steps and stopped in front of the large potted fern in the corner of Frank’s office. “Your choice. You cough up the key, or I water your plant.”

  Frank stood, forgetting about Sam. The expression on his face was nothing short of joy. “You whip it out and I’ll toss your ass in jail.”

  I couldn’t be sure, but when the sound of my zipper filled the small room, I thought I heard Sam groan.

  We’d set up in the back corner of Jill’s diner on the edge of town. Sam was spread out on the other end of the table, trying to drown the ice in her soda. When she thought I wasn’t watching, she’d glance up and stare at me like she was trying to see into my brain. I wished she’d stop. There were waves of black and dark blue swirling around her head. It made the demon twitchy, while at the same time made me want to apologize for being such a dick right before the fire broke out. “Sammy?”

  She hadn’t said more than ten words—none of them relevant—since we’d left the police station, and was staring at the file we’d taken. When the cop hauled me away, Sam snagged it. Eventually he’d notice it was gone and considering our combined history, put two and two together, but there’d be no way to prove it. “Are you going to tell me what happened? What did Spencer say?”

  She sighed, and without looking up, said, “It wasn’t Bob Dowdy.”

  “Huh?”

  “The guy that attacked me. It wasn’t him. Dowdy isn’t the demon.”

  “But the apartment? I don’t get it.”

  “Dowdy has been dead for months. Cops found him facedown in a gutter on Hooker Avenue. They searched his house and that apartment. You said you found bodies there? Well, someone put them there recently, because they weren’t there when the cops went in.”

  “Wait, why did t
he cops go in?”

  “The police have been keeping it pretty hush-hush, but I guess they had him figured for that Gentleman Stalker.”

  Shit. Now we were back to square one. “The demons must have killed Dowdy and taken the apartment. Please tell me you didn’t tell Spencer about the bodies…”

  “No way. I’ll make an anonymous tip. If he finds out either of us was actually in the apartment, his head will implode.”

  “But you told him about being attacked at Huntington?”

  She lifted her gaze from the file, unapologetic. “I had no choice. I had to give him something. He’s not stupid, and if this thing really is taking girls, then it needs to be stopped.”

  “We went over this before. The cops can’t stop it.”

  “Why?” Defiance bloomed in her expression. She leaned back in the seat and folded her arms. “If the cops were unable to deal with a demon, then how were they able to keep you locked up for the afternoon?”

  “Are you seriously asking me this? What should I have done, busted my way out the front door?” I snorted loudly, causing the people two tables over to glance our way, irritated. In a foul mood already—the damn demon was hungry again—I smiled politely and proceeded to flip them off. “I couldn’t have done it anyway. I don’t have a demonic arsenal, as you put it. I’m a little stronger, tougher, and faster, and have a lot more attitude than the average Joe. That’s it. Far as I can tell, other demons are pretty much the same.”

  As I spoke, Azirak shifted and squirmed. It flashed another one of the battlefield scenes. Fire and brimstone and piles of bones in a battlefield so high, they reached up into the clouds. The flash was so intense that I could smell the smoke. Burning flesh and otherworldly screams echoed in my ears, making me feel like I was right there in the middle of the field.

  “Jax?” Sam’s voice, and the warmth of her hand resting atop mine, pulled me from the scene.

  “Sorry. The demon was showing me something.” Deep breath. A cold sweat broke out at the base of my neck.

  Knowing Sam, she wanted to ask questions, but thankfully, she bent over the file.

  I needed something to take my mind off the images. Tapping the table, I said, “Lemme see the folder for a sec.”

  Sam slid the papers across the table. On the outside, I was calm. Inside though, Azirak churned, encouraging the bubble of fear and unease that brewed. I opened the folder. First page. A girl seven months ago in Farmersville. She was cute. Long brown hair and dark eyes. No known family, but a friend had reported her missing. I’d passed through town around that time on my way to check on Rick and Sam. I’d rented a room for two weeks before moving on. I vaguely remembered hearing something on the local news about the search.

  I flipped the page. Two weeks later, a girl went missing from Hempstead Township. Again, I’d been in town around the time.

  In fact, I’d been in all the towns. The list went on and on. The dates and locations matched my travels.

  “Jax?” Sam asked, worry tainting her voice.

  I swallowed, unable to answer. Another page. Another girl.

  “Jax, you’re freaking me out here.”

  I was freaking myself out. All those girls. All those towns. The air around me bled gray, my own fear nearly choking me.

  When I found my voice again, I faced Sam and pushed the file back across the table. “Listen to me carefully, Sammy. I want you to get up and walk out that door. Go anyplace other than Kelly’s. Go someplace where I won’t find you.”

  I thought I’d made myself clear, yet Sam was still sitting across from me, looking like I’d lost my mind. Waves of black rose from her shoulders.

  “Did you hear me? Get out!” I couldn’t help raising his voice.

  She sighed and began gathering the papers in no particular rush. When everything was collected in a neat pile, she stuffed them back into the envelope and stood. “Well?”

  “Well, what?” I snapped.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Was I speaking another language? Was it confusing that I wanted you to leave without me?”

  “Nope. Crystal. Not doing it though.”

  Fuck. She was going to make me spit it out. “I think this all has something to do with me.”

  “You? How could—”

  I flipped the file around and slid it back across the table, tapping the top page. “I was there. In the same city at the same time each and every one of these girls went missing.”

  Leaning back, eyes wide—Sam laughed. Not a sexy giggle or an amused chuckle, but an all-out snorting chortle.

  I couldn’t decide if I should be worried about her sanity—or furious because she wasn’t taking this seriously. “Since when does cold-blooded murder tickle your funny bone?”

  She pulled it together, grabbing the edge of the table to steady herself. “I’m—I’m sorry, but you? Never.”

  Sam held up a hand, then reached across and pulled me from the seat. Stunned by her reaction to my confession, I let her drag me to the door.

  “I didn’t mean I was the one who attacked you. I mean, it’s too much of a coincidence that I was in each one of those towns at the time.”

  “So you think this demon is, what, out to frame you?”

  That wasn’t what I thought—was it? No. If there was some kind of warrant for me, Spencer would have been more than happy to lock my ass away. “I’m not sure. I just know that everywhere I am, it seems a girl disappears.”

  Sam herded us through the door and onto the sidewalk. Once outside, I pulled away.

  “If that’s the truth, then it’s really good news.”

  “How is that good news?”

  She was grinning. “Because then we know who his next target is. You can protect me.”

  Sam had blinders on when it came to me. I’d told her the truth. She’d seen the demon. I’d been a dick. Treated her like shit. I’d even tried—and failed—to scare her. What more could I possibly do?

  Try harder.

  Snatching her wrist, I turned and dragged her into the alleyway across from the diner. She stumbled twice, tripping, but I didn’t slow down. Once we were concealed in the shadows, I shoved her against the building.

  “You think this is a game? I told you, I’m a monster.”

  “Right,” she said, nodding. There wasn’t even the smallest hint of gray swirling above her head and it pissed me off. “A vicious monster. One that’s sticking around to protect me?”

  “You need me to spell it out for you? Okay. I’ve ripped people to shreds, one limb at a time. Slowly. I’ve made them suffer, taking joy in their pain and agony.” I pulled away so I could see her expression.

  “Whatever you’ve done, it’s because of the demon,” she insisted.

  Inside, Azirak swirled, amused. Funny. The thing thought this was funny—and it was right. “You want to believe it, but the truth is, I like it. I like the feeling of holding someone’s world between the tips of my fingers. Playing judge, jury, and executioner.” I was disgusting. “Hearing them scream… Rage and violence are my life—and I like it that way.”

  For a second I was sure I’d gotten the message across. Sam’s eyes were wide, and with the demon’s help, I heard her pulse race. But it wasn’t gray waves of fear rising from her body—they were crimson. She was pissed.

  She shoved me hard and I didn’t resist—only she wasn’t doing it to get me away from her. Hands flat against my chest, Sam pushed me across the alley and into the adjacent building, standing on her toes so that we were face-to-face. The waves of red receded, and she took a step away.

  I didn’t dare move. Didn’t dare breathe.

  In a move I never saw coming, she reached out and cupped the side of my face. The gentleness of the touch was like a jolt of electricity. Sharp and painful. My mind raged to pull away, but Azirak, despite its mounting hunger, encouraged me to stay where I was. It was intrigued by Sam’s actions. Confused, but interested.

  “For the first time since we met the day o
f my parents’ funeral, I can’t figure you out.” Her fingers trailed, warm and soft, down the side of my face, stopping to rest at the base of my neck. “I don’t know if it’s me you’re trying to convince—or yourself.”

  “You—”

  She pulled my head down so our foreheads met, and whispered, “I wish you could see yourself the way I see you. You are not a perfect man, Jax Flynn, but you are not a monster. You’ve done what you needed to survive, but I refuse to believe that true evil is within your range.” She pulled away and tilted my head up a few inches so that we were face-to-face again. “Maybe—just maybe—you have some connection to the thing that’s doing all this. But that doesn’t make it your fault. Like you said, we’ll figure it out and we’ll stop it. Together.”

  I ripped the folder from her fingers and propelled her away. Waving it, I said, “Didn’t you notice anything about these victims, Sammy?”

  Hesitant, she rolled her eyes and took the file back, leafing through. “They’re all girls?”

  “They’re all girls with brown hair and brown eyes.” I took the folder back again. “They’re all girls who are about five foot three and weigh about a buck twenty. No real family.”

  She wasn’t getting it.

  “They’re you, Sammy. Each one of these girls resembles you.”

  I watched it happen. The moment she realized I was right. A puff of gray wafted from her shoulders and her skin visibly paled. But it didn’t last. Sam took a deep breath and looked away from the folder. “Even if you’re right, that doesn’t make this your fault,” she repeated.

  And with those words, she leaned forward, rose onto her toes, and brushed her lips to mine. So brief. So painful. Azirak went crazy, urging me to push against her and make us one. It wanted her as much as I did and that terrified me more than any lapse in control ever had.

  “We can do this,” she said.

  But I wasn’t as optimistic. This demon was essentially following me. Killing girls wherever I went.