Then a face appeared above her.
“I see you are awake now.”
It was the man who had been at the entrance to the quarry.
Then the face disappeared again, and she heard the man say. “It is time.”
She heard clothes rustling and feet shuffling, and suddenly the night lit up with candles. She arched her head as much as she could and saw that she was surrounded by a group of people. They each held a candle that lit up their faces in eerie, shadowy, light.
And then, as if they were one, they began to chant in a low murmur.
Maddie May didn’t understand why she couldn’t get up. Not at first. Her palms and feet were stuck to the ground. And when she tried to move them the pain was excruciating. But once the candles were lit, she saw why. Stakes had been thrust through her palms pinning them to the ground. She assumed the same thing for her feet. A horrible sob broke out.
“Dear God. No. Please no.” she said in a heart-wrenching wail.
“God won’t help you here,” a voice said.
With horror, Maddie May saw that it was Libby who had said that. Libby looked down on her with an evil, scornful grin.
“Please let me go. Please.”
“It’s too late for that, daughter” the man said.
“Why do you keep calling me daughter?” Maddie May shrieked. “Why? I’m not your daughter. Just let me go. I promise I won’t say anything. I swear on Jesus my Lord and savior.”
The man walked over and stood above her.
“He is not going to save you.”
“He will.”
“I’m sorry, he won’t.”
“Well, I’m saved, so I’ll go to heaven anyway,” Maddie May said her eyes flashing. “But you won’t. You’ll go to hell. You’ll burn in the fires of hell.”
The man smiled, and it frightened her more than anything else had so far.
Then he tilted her head up ever so gently and put a cold, metal cup to her mouth.
“Drink this, dear daughter. It will make it less painful for you.”
“No!” she shouted.
Then Libby was above her and said in a low voice. “I swear on our friendship in second grade that he’s telling the truth. You’re going to want to drink this first.”
Terrified, Maddie May nodded and willing gulped down the warm, thick liquid.
“What was that?” Maddie May said, tears dripping down the sides of her face.
“It was the blood of a squirrel, but I also put some drugs in it to make it easier,” Libby said. “I’m sorry. I didn’t want to call you. He made me.”
As soon as she’d said it, the man leaped off of Maddie May and struck Libby in the face so hard it sent the girl flying out of Maddie May’s view.
The chanting never stopped, though.
Then a man with a goat mask on was above her. He ripped off her clothes and raped her.
Maddie May knew what he was about to do, but the pain was so terrific that she prayed she would die from what he was doing. The chanting continued, and Maddie May clung to the voices and murmurs, concentrating only on them to avoid her own reality.
But then when the next masked man hovered above her, she realized that she no longer felt her body. It was as if she were floating above herself, completely detached.
She lost count of how many masked men defiled her. It could have been two. It could have been twenty. Time was distorted.
After a while, the first man appeared again. He reached down and wrapped both his hands around her neck. “I’m sorry we drugged you. But we will still proceed as planned.”
Looking up as if he were searching the heavens for something, he began to chant with the others. As his voice grew louder and his grip on her neck tightened, Maddie May kept praying. The last thing she saw was the man’s eyes roll back in his head.
3
Earlier
Madrid
Rose, sitting at a bar in the Madrid airport eating tapas, listened to the voice mail from Shaniqua and then hung up. So what if she hadn’t told anyone she was ditching the modeling gig.
Her dad wouldn’t even know she was gone.
And Gia? Gia could handle it.
Even so, Rose felt a tiny flicker of guilt.
Fine. She’d text Gia to let her know she was alive.
“I’m fine. I decided to go after the Sultan. I can’t wait around any longer for someone else to do it.”
It was a bitchy text. The last part was, at least. In essence, she was scolding Gia, and Gia’s aunt, Eva, for allowing the Sultan to draw breath.
But she pressed “send” anyway.
She turned off her phone and put it deep into an interior pocket of her backpack. She wasn’t going to use it again unless there was an emergency.
She knew she couldn’t really be angry at Eva.
Eva had trained Rose to take care of herself.
Eva had been raised in a Mafia family in Sicily and then took over as boss when her father went to prison. She soon became one of the first woman to become head of a mafia family. She’d had the respect of the other mafia bosses until she spoke out against the others moving into the sex trafficking trade. It started a full-fledged war with the families ending in several murders and a price on her head. Eva had fled to America and carved out a new life for herself there, but her enemies found her and murdered her entire family—her husband and two young kids.
From then on, Eva devoted her life to killing in the name of justice.
Rose knew that Eva was still on the FBI’s most wanted list. But she kept just low enough under the radar to escape notice. Or maybe it was that Los Angeles detective, Jay Collins, that let her lead her life unfettered. He was a cop, but he understood why Eva did what she did. He seemed to understand that in some way they were on the same side: hunting down the scum of the earth and stopping them from hurting others.
Eva’s fortress boot camp in Southern Italy had groomed some of the most dangerous female assassins in the world.
And Rose had emerged from the boot camp as the best of the best.
“Hey.” The low voice with the Spanish accent pinked her cheeks.
Rose set her backpack down and turned to the boy on the barstool beside her. He had what Shaniqua, originally from Chicago, called “hockey hair.” It was shaggy and close to an 80s-style mullet. His forearms bulged beneath the short sleeves of his tight T-shirt.
She set some Euros on the bar and walked away. She wasn’t in the mood for conversation. The hockey hair boy was cute, but not her type. Rose wasn’t into boys with abs and muscles. She liked lanky boys with messy hair who read poetry.
Basically, she was attracted to any boy who had even the slightest resemblance to Timothy.
He’d set the bar for life.
He was the love of her life.
Thinking of his gravestone in the Barcelona cemetery made Rose feel numb. She would rather feel that then the heart-shattering grief she’d felt when he’d first died.
Instead, she often thought of Timothy when he was alive.
After years of being best friends, they’d fallen in love. They’d made love for the first time on the night of Rose’s eighteenth birthday. Within hours Timothy would be dead.
She hadn’t really even looked at another boy since.
But when she fled Barcelona, Rose decided to turn off her emotions and live for the moment.
That’s why the plane she was about to board would take her to Amsterdam.
Timothy had told her how it was a place where everyone let loose. Way before it was legal in the rest of the world, you could smoke pot on the streets standing next to a cop. You could order pound cake with liquid acid in it at the corner café.
Although Timothy wasn’t big into drugs, he dreamed of taking Rose there because he loved the local’s laissez faire attitude.
Rose had decided to make the city her first stop in homage to him. She planned to spend the last month of summer there and then begin her hunt for the Sultan in earne
st.
Although she was eager to end it with the Sultan—to make him pay for Timothy’s murder—she also realized she needed a month to simply blow off some steam: drinking, smoking weed, and hanging out with the locals. She’d get it all out of her system and then would be laser focused on her revenge.
After landing in Amsterdam, it hadn’t taken long for her meet people.
Her first day in town, she checked into a hostel in an old orphanage. They’d told her they were locking up the hostel until 6:00 p.m. but let her put her backpack on one of the forty or so bunks in the big room. She grabbed a smaller backpack with her passport and important belongings and headed out to explore.
Her first stop was Vondelpark. Timothy had talked about it fondly after returning from a vacation there with his parents. He’d been sixteen and came back with stories about the park’s cool vibe. Rose soon found the park that ran through the center of the city.
It was lush and green with rolling lawns and streams and small groves of trees.
The park was just as Timothy had described:
It was full of people—lying on the grass, drinking beer, perched in trees smoking cigarettes, huddled in circles around others playing guitar or bongo drums, tossing hacky sacks or Frisbees, and napping or eating picnics on blankets.
Rose passed the groups of people, shooting furtive glances their way. She wasn’t shy, but she was suddenly unsure how she was going to meet anyone.
Looking down at her clothes, she wondered if she looked like a freak. She wore her standard uniform—skinny army green cargo pants and a black tank top. If it got cold, she had a thick black hoodie she’d throw on.
Most of the other girls wore floral crop tops and cute jean shorts.
Then she came across a group of about six people lounging near a small stream. Three of the boys were playing Frisbee and three others were on a blanket. One of the girls strummed a guitar.
Rose didn’t realize she was staring until one of the boys smiled at her. Someone shouted, and he turned quickly, his long hair flopping into his eyes as he dove for the Frisbee. Rose quickly looked away, feeling her cheeks flush.
Before she could take another step, the Frisbee landed on the sidewalk in front of her. She stopped.
Then the boy was in front of her, standing on the sidewalk and blocking her way, the Frisbee forgotten on the ground.
“Hey,” he said. Up close, she saw he had dark eyes with ridiculously long eyelashes peeking out from his floppy bangs.
“Hey,” Rose replied. Part of her was annoyed at his arrogance, throwing himself in front of her and blocking her path. Part of her liked it.
“Want a beer?”
It was a lame pick up line. They both knew it.
But they’d locked eyes at this point and Rose slowly nodded.
He reached down and scooped the Frisbee up then and said, “Come on.”
Rose followed.
The boy’s name was Liam.
Soon she was introduced to the others in the group. They all lived in Amsterdam.
The girl, Anke, picked up the guitar again, and they all sang along to the songs, passing a joint around.
When they ran out of beer, Liam flagged down a man on a bicycle selling beer out of the basket on his handlebars.
Rose was extremely stoned.
Higher than she’d ever been in her life.
“What do you put in your weed here?” she said with a laugh.
Liam nodded. “Yeah, I should’ve warned you,” he said. “It’s more potent here. Most Americans can’t handle it.”
“How do you know I’m American?” Rose said.
He shrugged. “Your accent?”
“You are American, right?”
Rose shrugged. “A little. I’m Mexican, American, and Spanish. I have citizenship in all three countries.”
“Cool.”
At one point, some people lay down on the blanket. Anke put her guitar down and flopped onto her belly, and rested her head on her folded arms. One of the boys sprawled on the other side of her, his mouth open as he snored lightly.
Rose, who was sitting by Liam, felt suddenly sleepy. The breeze and shade of large trees nearby kept the heat at bay, so it wasn’t blazing but comfortably warm. That, along with the marijuana made her want to close her eyes for just a few seconds.
She lay back on the blanket near Liam, staring up at the tree tops above her. She was hyper aware of Liam’s knees near her head. If she turned just slightly, her face would probably touch the worn soft fabric of his jeans.
Liam leaned over her from behind, his head blocking out the light. He paused a second, as if waiting for permission, and then leaned down and kissed her—a long, sexy kiss.
When he pulled away, her cheeks grew hot, but nobody else was paying attention. The few people still awake were in a heated discussion about American politics.
Rose was surprised at how knowledgeable these kids were. They knew more about American politics than most American kids did.
Liam lifted her head. He scooted forward and then placed her head back so it rested on his thigh. The contact was electric. She could feel heat emanating from him.
For the first time in longer than she could remember, she felt a surge of lust zip through her.
It skyrocketed when Liam began to play with her hair, running his fingers over her scalp absentmindedly as he joined in the discussion with the others. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the feel of his touch, trying not to squirm with desire.
“We’re going to a club later,” Liam said, leaning down over her. “You’re coming with us.”
A flare of anger raced through her. Nobody ever dared talk to her that way. She did what she wanted when she wanted. And here this boy who’d she’d only known for a few hours was arrogant enough to tell her what she was going to do?
“You think so?” She was surprised her voice sounded so normal since her body was on fire.
He gave her a cocky smile and nodded.
Fuck he was right. She was going to go.
“We’ll see about that,” she said.
“I’m starving,” he said. “Let’s head back to my place. I’ll fix you something to eat.”
Rose paused. Did going to his place mean she was agreeing to fuck him?
He gave her a long, meaningful look. Yep. That’s exactly what she’d be agreeing to.
She sat up. He reached for her hand and helped her stand, slinging his arm around her.
“See you cats later,” he said to the others as they walked away.
Two weeks flew by while Rose stayed at Liam’s place. He had a tiny studio in the basement of a building. A few nights—on the weekends—he waited tables at a restaurant. The rest of the time he made love to Rose or they hung out in cafes drinking coffee and playing chess or met up with the others in Vondelpark to play music or Frisbee and drink beer.
One day, Rose woke to find Liam huddled over his laptop frowning.
She got up and stood behind him. Then she turned.
“You’re in college?”
“Classes start in two weeks. I just got my schedule.”
“Oh.”
That’s when Rose realized that the days had grown a little cooler, and the sunlight had a different slant on it. Summer was almost over.
For the next two weeks, both Liam and Rose stopped drinking and smoking weed.
Liam was very serious about his studies. He began to work out, getting up early to run through the city at dawn and do pushups and sit-ups and pullups at stops along the way.
To his surprise, Rose joined him and was able to keep up.
They shopped for fresh food and made healthy meals for dinner each night, getting in bed early to read until they fell asleep.
At first, Rose couldn’t believe how comfortable she was around Liam. And then she realized that was the problem. She was comfortable. Like a friend. They made love less and less. Liam began to turn more introspective, spending afternoons reading textbooks that he
would use when school started.
One day Rose stood over him with her backpack on her shoulder.
“I’m leaving,” she said. Even as she did, she felt a pang of sadness. She would miss him.
He looked astonished.
“What?”
“I’m leaving.”
He shook his head. “I don’t understand. Have I done something wrong?”
Rose gave him a sad smile. “I was always going to leave.”
His forehead wrinkled. “You were?”
She gave a slow nod. He really hadn’t known. He’d thought they would go on like this forever. It was her fault. She should’ve been clearer about it.
“I was only here for the summer. I told you that when we first met.”
He looked down. “Yeah, I guess I’d hoped you’d changed your mind.”
“I’m sorry.”
And she genuinely was. She leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.
“Where are you going?” he asked. “Will I be able to write you?”
She’d never told him she’d had a phone. She’d kept it turned off and crammed in an inside pocket of her backpack.
“I’ll be traveling constantly from here on out, I think.”
“Why?”
She looked away.
“It’s that thing that gives you nightmares, isn’t it?” he said. Once or twice, she’d woken him up screaming and crying in the night and refused to talk about it.
Rose nodded.
He stood and ran a hand through his hair. Rose couldn’t tell if he was furious or devastated. His face had an expression she’d never seen and was a little bit intimidated by.
“Will I ever see you again?” he said.
“I don’t know.”
And then she turned and left.
As she got on the bus for the train station, Rose scolded herself. She’d been foolish to stay with Liam as long as she had. She’d started to care for him. That was something she couldn’t afford to do. Not now. Maybe not ever.
4
Present Day
Blood & Fire (Vigilante Crime Series Book 2) Page 2