Nicole yawned, downed her eighth or ninth cup of coffee for the day and responded, “Count me in.” A drink or two would put the challenges of her new job in perspective. Her first year as a hospital RN was making her miss college. At the end of the day she felt drained and before starting a shift, she’d wake up in the middle of the night full of anxiety, wondering about facts and procedures she needed to remember. The demands were overwhelming and she was beginning to understand the high turnover rate among new nurses.
School hadn’t quite been able to prepare her for what the actual job entailed. There were so many different types of patients that required her attention, and each day brought new lessons. But she was hanging in there. As one of her teachers used to say, “Nursing is an art, a science, a way of life and a privilege.” Nicole saw it as a calling. She wanted to help people and despite the long hours and lack of sleep, she could feel her confidence growing. The work was tough, but rewarding.
She wrapped up her charting, slipped out of her scrubs and clocked out. She was looking forward to some downtime with her roommate. Even though they shared the same living space, they barely saw each other nowadays. Ashley worked nights at a restaurant while Nicole disappeared for twelve-hour shifts during the day. An evening out to have some fun and catch up was long overdue.
She wished her co-workers goodnight and strode through the wing of the children’s ward. Before leaving, though, she couldn’t help but check in on her newest patient one last time. Manuel Rodriguez was seven years old, but the serious expression on his cute little face gave him the gravity of an adult. He was scheduled to have his tonsils removed the next day and when she entered his room, his contemplative, concerned gaze met hers.
“Shouldn’t you be asleep?”
Manuel looked up from the Batman comic book in his hands and a hint of a smile lit up his face. They’d become best buds rather quickly. Manuel’s mother worked two jobs; Mrs. Rodriguez was a nanny during the week and cleaned houses on the weekends. Manuel knew his mom worried about the cost of his hospital bills and didn’t feel good about leaving her little boy on his own for his first surgery. Ironically enough, Manuel worried more about his mom worrying about him than he did the surgery itself. Seeing him trying to be tough and brave touched Nicole’s heart and all she wanted to do was give the kid a warm hug and reassure him that everything would be okay.
“Tomorrow is a big day. You should get some rest.”
“I’m not feeling sleepy.”
Nicole could relate to his insomnia. She’d spent countless sleepless nights over the years, her mind drawn back to a past she’d rather put behind her for good.
“Want me to read you something?”
For a moment the boy’s eyes brightened, and he nodded enthusiastically. Nicole grabbed the comic and dived into the story. She hated to keep Ashley waiting, but she’d feel worse knowing that little Manuel spent the night before his surgery wide awake. Fortunately, her roommate knew how to entertain herself – the girl wasn’t exactly shy.
By the time Nicole had finished reading the comic, Manuel was fast asleep. Smiling, Nicole dimmed the lights and snuck out.
She scanned her phone as she rode the elevator down to the parking structure. The text from Ashley read: Making new friends – hurry. The message was accompanied by a selfie in which she posed with two attractive young men. As expected, Ashley wasn’t wasting any time. She’d found some boys. Cute boys, too.
Damn, she couldn’t even remember the last time she’d gone out on a date, her social life was pretty much non-existent nowadays. Suddenly nervous she got into her Nissan Sentra and studied herself in the rear-view mirror. She looked like crap. Doing her best to ignore the bags under her eyes, she straightened her hair while she re-did her make-up. She was wearing jeans and a stylish blouse. Not her hottest outfit by a long shot but she didn’t want to waste time heading back to the house she and Ashley rented twenty minutes outside of downtown Sierra Nogales. The town was located right near the US-Mexican border and counted a population of 9000. She’d moved here right after she wrapped up her nursing degree at the University of Arizona. The place was a sleepy, close-knit community, a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Los Angeles where she’d grown up.
She had found something in Sierra Nogal that had eluded her back home. Peace. Maybe even the possibility of future happiness.
She started the Nissan and drove to Hal’s, a local dive bar located only twenty minutes from the hospital. Aerosmith blared from the jukebox as she set foot in the crowded bar. Ashley was in the back, busy playing pool with the two guys from her selfie, completely at ease with all the male attention. Sometimes Nicole wished she shared her confidence when it came to boys.
Here we go, she thought.
She ordered a Budweiser, took a deep sip and headed over to the pool table. Her roommate enthusiastically waved her over. “There she is. Save any lives today?”
“No, but I did clean out a couple of bedpans… And spent fifteen minutes trying to find a vein.”
“Okay, gross, too much information. By the way, this is Paul, and this is Rob. Fellas, meet my roommate Nicole.” The two men were tall, fit and handsome. Nicole drained the rest of her beer, made eye contact with the bartender to indicate she would need another drink, and joined the game. Part of her would rather just sit down and chill out, but the odds were good she might nod off, despite the blaring jukebox and raging pheromones. The adrenaline of the game combined with the masculine energy around her kept Nicole on her toes. By the time the last ball clacked into the pocket, she had enjoyed her second beer and was starting to feel pretty good.
God, I needed a night like this. Nevertheless, she experienced a pang of anxiety when Ashley suggested that their two new friends join them at their place, for a round of drinks. A buzzed Ashley winked at her conspiratorially and whispered, “Live a little, girl.”
Nicole grinned. Tonight she’d follow Ashley’s advice. Lately her life had been reduced to work, work, work. Time for her to come up for air and have some honest-to-God fun.
They stumbled into their two-bedroom rental home, laughing. Ashley offered everyone shots while Nicole plopped down on the couch. On second thought, bad idea. She was hit with a wave of drowsiness. Rob sat down next to her. Within seconds, his strong arm was wrapped around her shoulders and she was wide-awake again. Ashley squealed playfully as Paul disappeared with her into her bedroom.
Nicole wasn’t big on casual hook-ups. As a nurse she was a little too aware of the various diseases floating around out there. But between the alcohol and her long period of celibacy, she decided she might make an exception tonight. Rob smelled great and she could feel the play of hard muscles under his tight shirt. He kissed her face, his tongue tracing her neck while his hand unbuttoned her blouse… Whoa, this was happening fast. But she was enjoying herself and decided to go with the flow.
Rob opened her shirt, his hand slipping inside, brushing over her skin…
And paused.
His fingers traced the webbed flesh of her scar.
Nicole swallowed hard. She’d hoped the beers and the living room’s low lighting might not make him pay attention to the scar that ran from her belly button all the way to her pubic area. She always dreaded these first encounters, the questions that would come up and the lies she’d have to counter them with.
“What happened?” was the standard opening salvo. Eight years ago, a demon claimed my soul and used my body as a scratching post. That’s what she wanted to shout in situations like this, but instead she would lie and say, “Car crash, banged me up pretty good.”
Rob reacted differently than the others. His eyes gleamed with a strange sense of awe as he lovingly caressed her scar tissue. There was something almost reverential about the act that both turned her on and unnerved her.
“I have a scar too,” he said.
“From the war?”
Rob told her earlier that he’d served in Afghanistan. With a warm smile, he shook h
is head.
“Let me show you.”
He unbuttoned his shirt. “I received this mark as a symbol of my devotion…”
As he spoke, Nicole heard a muffled thump from inside Ashley’s bedroom and a strangled scream that turned into a pitiful whimper.
The warm smile on Paul’s face had vanished, his expression now etched with fanatical glee. “We’ve been looking for you, Nicole Roberts.”
The use of her real last name — the name she lived with for seventeen years before legally changing it to Nicole Stivers — chilled her to the bone. After the incident eight years ago, she’d become a target of every wacko ghost hunter or religious zealot out there. Changing her name was her way of starting over and regaining ownership of her life. But the past had a way of catching up with you.
Rob finished unbuttoning his shirt. A scar in the form of an inverted cross ran from his collarbone all the way down to his belly button. Before Nicole could respond, Rob’s fist snaked out at her. The punch knocked her back into the couch. For a stunned beat, the room spun. The coppery flavor of blood filled her mouth and it propelled Nicole into action. Before Rob could strike her again, she rolled off the sofa, hit the living room carpet and feathered back to her feet.
As Rob lurched toward her, Nicole’s mind grew calm.
Eight years earlier a demon had violated her body and invaded her thoughts, nearly claiming her soul in the process. Her inability to defend herself had been the worst part of the ordeal. She swore to never be so helpless again, at least not against a flesh-and-blood opponent. She started taking self-defense classes and learned how to handle guns. Knowing Krav Maga was empowering, but a skilled male fighter wouldn’t just sit still and let her gouge out his eyes or kick him in the balls. A gun, on the other hand, was the ultimate equalizer in any fight, putting a 100-pound woman on equal footing with a 250-pound assailant. Her preferred firearm was the Glock 19, a compact version of the 9mm Glock 17, the favored sidearm of law enforcement. It was designed to reduce the amount of recoil experienced by the shooter, and the grip was fully adjustable. An excellent gun for a female and it could easily be concealed.
She kept her Glock in the bedroom. Odds were good that Rob would catch up with her before she made it into the room and she’d fail to reach the weapon in time. How to slow him down? Struck with sudden inspiration, she snatched the vase from the end table and swung it at Rob with all her strength. The vase whipped across his face and snapped his head back. No sound escaped from his lips as he flew backward and slammed into the hardwood floor.
Ashley’s screams intensified.
Nicole had to help her friend. But first she needed her gun. Still a bit buzzed from the beers, Nicole stumbled into her room. Hands shaking from the fight, she reached the dresser, pulled out the bottom drawer and grabbed the Glock. She rushed toward Ashley’s room.
In the living room, Rob remained sprawled on the carpet, still groggy from the blow to the head. Ashley’s screams were still building in intensity. Oh God, what is that psycho doing to her?
She dreaded the answer but still managed to kick open the door to Ashley’s bedroom. The door swung back and she stepped inside, gun up and… froze. Ashley stared back at her with big wet eyes, lips quivering. A deep gash ran across her throat and spurted red onto her pink comforter.
No…
The light in her scared eyes was already fading. With one hand Paul finger-painted occult symbols on the wall in Ashley’s blood, while the other clutched a bloody knife. Paul turned. He was shirtless and sported an inverted cross on his chest, a twin to Rob’s scar.
Knife up, he barreled toward her.
Nicole trained with her Glock at least once a month and what happened next was automatic, more reflex than conscious action. She fired and the bullet tore through Paul’s inverted-cross scar almost dead center. The knife clattered on the floor as he went down.
She’d expected her hands to tremble, but her grip on the Glock was rock steady. Gun out, she moved deeper into Ashley’s bedroom. She didn’t have to be a nurse to know the glazed expression on Ashley’s face meant that she was dead. Poor Ashley… She couldn’t be gone.
Hot tears welled up and now her initial calm began to waver as the reality of what had happened came crashing down on her. Who the hell were these freaks? For years she’d worked hard to establish a sense of normalcy in her life, and just when she was beginning to feel hopeful about the future…
All thoughts stopped when she recognized the image on the wall. Her parents had paid a small fortune in reconstructive surgery, but some of the scars of her possession ran too deep to be erased by a scalpel or a laser. The bloody symbol dripping onto the bedpost was identical to the occult sigil etched into her stomach.
The mark of the demon.
Oh my God, it’s starting again.
For years psychologists had tried to convince Nicole that her feeling of being possessed could simply be explained away in psychological terms. To their way of thinking, she’d been going through a difficult phase. Nicole knew goddamn well that her experience hadn’t been some phase. She’d stared into the abyss and an unfathomable evil had risen from it to nearly consume her. It had taught her a vital lesson.
Evil was real.
The darkness was real.
And now it was beginning all over again.
She heard footsteps behind her and whirled, but the man sneaking up on her was faster. The butt of an AK-47 slammed into her head. Seeing the sigil of the demon oozing down Ashley’s bedroom wall had distracted her long enough to give the assailant the upper hand.
She dropped to the floor, reality becoming blurry. She caught a brief glimpse of a man dressed in combat black, eyes peering from a ski mask like he was auditioning for the part of a burglar on some crime show.
And then the world turned dark.
Chapter Seven
Special Agent Frank Doyle was on his way to question Father Cabrera when he spotted the male nurse emerging from the priest’s hospital room. The growing escalation of these crimes and their religious angle had necessitated the involvement of the FBI. As their resident expert on cult crimes and ritualistic Satanic abuse, Doyle had been tasked with the job.
He’d met all the nurses and doctors responsible for Cabrera’s well-being earlier in the day, yet this man leaving Cabrera’s room was a stranger to him. There could be a perfectly innocent explanation for this newcomer’s presence, however, and at this point Doyle was still more curious than suspicious.
The male nurse pivoted and walked down the corridor in the opposite direction. His gait was relaxed, deliberate. But Doyle’ alarm bells were going off. There was a coiled intensity in the man’s features, a lean, almost wolfish quality. He looked dangerous.
Doyle decided to have a few words with the new face. “Hey, wait up… I want to talk to you about the patient…”
The male nurse never looked back and never slowed down.
Doyle followed. “Hey, I said hold on…”
The man in scrubs disappeared around the next corner. Doyle loped after him. He came around the bend and saw the man vanish through a door that led to the staircase. At 33, Doyle ran every day and considered himself in better shape than when he first joined the Bureau. Picking up his pace, he sprinted and reached the staircase seconds later. His quarry was already a flight down, taking two steps at a time.
Doyle pounded down the stairs. The male nurse disappeared through another doorway, and Doyle tore after him. Arriving in a deserted corridor, he spotted the stranger farther ahead, now striding briskly toward a set of double-doors.
Doyle followed. He still hadn’t called for backup, partially because he was baffled by the situation. He drew his pistol, barged through the doors and entered the hospital morgue. Freezers lined the walls. Harsh, fluorescent light spilled down on the shroud-covered bodies resting on their shiny steel slabs.
The dead triggered a flashback to the terrible scene he’d encountered in Cabrera’s church only 48 hours ea
rlier. Walking into that defiled setting and taking in the bloody remains of the men, women and children sprawled among the pews like broken dolls had torn him up inside. He’d sworn right then and there to bring to justice the monsters responsible for these heinous crimes.
Doyle took a few hesitant steps, moving deeper into the morgue. He passed the row of corpses, choking back the chalky taste in his mouth. A sudden noise made him whirl and he spotted one of the dead bodies rising from a table behind him. The revenant cast off its shroud, revealing the male nurse.
Doyle leveled his pistol just as the man shoved a nearby gurney toward him. Wheels screeched over the stone floor as the gurney slammed into his stomach and the shot went wild. He gasped and desperately tried to regain his bearings but before he could, the stranger loomed above him. His attacker snatched Doyle’s arm and twisted until he released his pistol. It clattered to the floor.
Before he knew it, Doyle was looking up at the muzzle of his own gun. The man’s penetrating gaze bore into him.
“Who the hell are you?” Doyle asked.
The stranger’s answer was to back away toward the exit and turn off the lights, plunging the morgue into blackness.
Doyle followed the sound of the swinging doors, trying not to think about all the dead bodies that shared the darkness with him.
By the time he stumbled his way out of the morgue, the stranger was long gone.
Chapter Eight
Casca arrived in Silicon Valley right on time to attend Xtel’s monthly board meeting. His father had built a technological empire in the early seventies and Xtel chips could be found in twenty-five percent of all computers on the market. It represented the source of Casca’s wealth and power, but he’d never fully embraced his legacy as CEO of a billion-dollar-plus conglomerate. Consequently, he wasn’t exactly enamored with corporate rituals and saw these meetings as a necessary evil, at best.
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