Talon cut her down. Arms around her waist, he gently lowered her to the floor. He tore the duct tape from her mouth and offered up his robe so she could cover herself with it. Considering the state she was in, modesty probably was the last thing on her mind. Nevertheless, she eagerly clutched the robe and draped it over her naked form.
Approaching footsteps sounded from below. The fight had alerted Espinoza’s men.
Talon scoped the room, picked up the pistol the cultist had dropped, and considered his options. Blasting his way out of there was one option, but he doubted he’d get far. An army was waiting for him on the lower floor of the club. He might be able to defeat the first group of men, but reinforcements would quickly take their place once the shooting began.
Talon scanned the windows. He could use the fire escape and make a go for the roof, but there was the matter of the girl. In her current condition they’d never reach the roof in time.
As these thoughts wheeled through his mind, he sensed someone creeping up behind him. He made out a flash of steel as Camila drove a knife into him. Sharp metal cut through skin and muscle and Talon gasped, more out of anger with himself than pain. He’d let his guard down, and now it would cost him dearly. The woman’s eyes glittered with fanatical savagery. All this time he’d viewed her as a helpless victim, when in reality she was a willing participant in this madness.
Battling the occult shared a crucial element in common with fighting terrorism—sometimes it was difficult to establish who the good guys were. This was an asymmetrical conflict where the line between friend and foe could easily blur and distort. Talon wondered what would make a young woman welcome such a brutal end? Then again, how different was it from the young men and women who were willing to blow themselves up in the name of their God?
There was no time to dwell on it. Talon’s heart grew cold as he drove his fist into the beauty’s face. She collapsed in a string-cut sprawl, her unconscious head hitting the tarp right next to Espinoza, who stared at her with blank, dead eyes from behind a mask of gore.
Talon cursed as he clutched the knife handle jutting from his side and wrenched it out with a grunt of pain. Blood flowed freely and his legs shook. A bad situation had gotten worse. For a moment he swayed and leaned against the wall. Espinoza’s men were almost upon him. In a few seconds they’d burst through the door, guns blazing…
Talon eyed the lifeless cultists, and a ghost of a smile played on his skull-painted face. There might still be a way out of this death trap.
When Espinoza’s crew arrived, all they saw was four downed men and an unconscious woman. Talon heard their panicked curses and shouts as they swept the scene of carnage.
The gangsters might be inured to death, but the sight of their fallen leader clearly shook them. Through slitted eyes, Talon saw one of the men cross himself and mutter a prayer.
Go on and pray to your saint of death, he thought. She won’t save you now.
One of the Espinoza’s men barked orders, and most of the cultists filed out of the storage area on their way to the roof. The two guards who stayed behind never noticed the hooded figure rising from the floor behind them. Never saw him level a pistol.
Only when the shots rang out did their fatal oversight become apparent. But by then it was too late. Santa Muerte had found two new victims.
Three heavily armed men blocked the staircase on the ground floor of the club. There was a flicker of instinctive fear as their eyes landed on the skull-faced man who had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. By the time they had brought up their guns, Talon’s bullets were already shattering bone and tissue in crimson bursts.
They collapsed in the narrow staircase, and Talon climbed over their lifeless bodies. Within seconds he located the door that led into the club’s kitchen. The staff instinctively pulled away from the gun-wielding figure leaving a trail of crimson in its wake.
Talon surged toward the steel door in the back and found himself in the same alley where he’d earlier stashed the body of the cultist he was impersonating. He stumbled down the passageway and heard shouts from above as the men on the roof spotted him. Bullets rained down, chopping cement, but missed Talon’s weaving form. The din of the Day of the Dead procession drowned out the gunshots.
By the time their magazines were empty, Talon had already merged with the crowd of revelers, just another skeleton in a long line of the marching dead.
As he let the crowd push him onward, he clutched his side, hoping to staunch the flow of blood. No one paid heed to his wound—or if they did, they most likely thought it was a creative touch to his costume.
Talon felt on the verge of sensory overload. He caught glimpses of elaborately decorated altars on the side on the surging throng; the Ofrendas were built from human bones and other offerings. Drums rattled his teeth and seemed to mirror the pounding of his own heart. Skeletons and skulls leered at him as the spooky parade masks ghosted through the crowd. He thought he spotted Zagan’s mechanical death skull in the bobbing parade. He tried to rationalize the terrible vision, to blame it on the loss of blood, but some uncertainty lingered. Anything was possible in this new war, wasn’t it? Could the dead truly rise on this day? Could the monsters he’d defeated in the last six months return to torment him? There had been so much killing, so much death…
Another figure jostled him, and he thought he saw Rezok’s face in his fiberglass skull mask. He squinted, filled his lungs with air and pressed the fabric of his black shirt against his injury.
Clenching his jaw, he pressed on, one agonizing step after another. If he collapsed, he would either bleed out or end up in the hands of the Mexican authorities. He doubted that even Casca could bail him out of a Mexican jail. Not that he’d ever arrive at the police precinct; he was a dead man if the authorities found him. About a third of the police force was on Espinoza’s payroll. No, he needed to make it to the hotel. Take care of the injury. Get some rest and head for the airport once he was strong enough.
Somehow he managed to cling to consciousness until he reached the Hilton, which was located three minutes from the Hidalgo Metro station. Even though he resembled one of the risen dead, no one paid him any mind. Ghosts outnumbered the living today.
As soon as he staggered into his room, he lurched into the bathroom and snatched a bottle of pills from his first aid kit. He washed down the antibiotics with a shot of tequila before pouring some of the booze on his wounded side. He gasped with agony as the alcohol disinfected the wound. Luckily for him, the woman had wielded the blade with little force and missed all vital organs and arteries. Already the bleeding had slowed. He climbed into the shower and let the scalding hot water wash the make-up from his face and clean his wound. Black and white paint pooled around his feet, mixing with his blood before disappearing down the drain.
Talon didn’t remember turning off the water or stitching up and bandaging the cut. Didn’t remember collapsing on the bed. Just before blackness swept over him, he had one last vision: Michelle’s beautiful, smiling face.
Talon’s next memory was the sensation of brilliant sunlight streaming through his hotel room. He looked at the clock and saw he’d been out for over sixteen hours.
He rubbed his pounding head, squinted at the brilliant light, and rose to his feet.
The Day of the Dead had come and gone, and Talon was ready to return to the world of the living.
Chapter Two
Karen admired her boyfriend’s profile in the moonlight as he steered his Porsche Cayman into the small, secluded park. His jet-black hair, olive skin, and striking eyes, which alternated between grey and green depending on the light, still made her weak at the knees even after eleven months of dating.
“So in case you missed this little detail,” she said, “we just passed a sign that says the park closes at ten and violators will be ticketed.”
“That’s too bad.” Gary winked at her mischievously, oozing confidence. He was definitely the wilder one in the relationship. Sometimes Karen wonde
red what he saw in her, and late at night, when he lay sound asleep next to her, she questioned how long they’d last as a couple. They were different in so many ways—but then again, opposites did attract, right? After nearly a year, Gary still seemed to be interested in her. Maybe her conservative, cautious temperament reigned in his more impulsive tendencies.
Or maybe he just likes the shape of my ass, she thought.
“What’s going through your mind?” Gary asked.
“Just thinking how romantic this is,” she said. “Cruising into an empty park, breaking laws…
“We haven’t broken any laws. At least not yet.” His eyes sparkled with good humor, and a smile tugged at his lips. The car rolled to a stop, and Gary turned off the engine. The brilliant light of the Porsche’s headlights starkly outlined the park’s playground ahead of them.
Karen made out a metal slide, a jungle gym, a merry-go-round and a few other attractions that would delight the tykes. The rest remained cloaked in the shadows of the trees that lined the playground area.
Being a first-grade teacher at a nearby elementary school, she’d visited the park hundreds of times—but always during the day when it was filled with the laughter and squeals of playing children. The playsets now stood abandoned, haunted and forlorn in the milky light. A low wind sent a pair of swings moving, the chains squeaking eerily in the nocturnal landscape. A thick fog was rolling in, adding to the spooky atmosphere as it rapidly devoured the playground.
Yup, this place is friggin’ creepy at night, Karen thought. She suddenly wished they’d just headed straight to her apartment. Almost as if Gary sensed her anxiety, he leaned closer. An instant later, his hungry lips found hers. Immediately all worries were pushed aside by the shivers of delight traveling down her body. God, the man knew how to kiss…
Karen almost expected a police officer to materialize outside the Porsche and shine a flashlight down at them. How embarrassing would that be? Damn it, why couldn’t she just relax and go with the flow? Her overactive imagination was like a blessing and a curse. How she wished she could be a little more carefree and spontaneous like Gary. He clearly was hoping to take their make-out session further, but her guard remained up. She’d die from embarrassment if the cops caught them in the throws of some lewd act.
Karen gently pushed against his chest and pulled away. She felt bad about spoiling the party, but he seemed cool about it. She loved how he kept trying to coax her out of her comfort zone but also knew when to back down. Another reason she was so crazy about him.
Gary grinned. “I think we better get a room, huh?”
He started the car while Karen straightened her hair and fixed her make-up. The car jolted suddenly, causing Karen to smudge her lipstick. Her face fell as she made out the thump of rubber and metal scraping over cement—the telltale sound of a flat tire.
Great! This night just keeps getting better.
Had they been unlucky enough to roll over a nail or piece of glass as they entered the park?
Gary killed the engine and squeezed her hand reassuringly. “No worries. I've got a spare.”
“Don’t you think we should just call AAA?”
“I’ve changed a tire before. Just stay in the car, it’s going to be a little chilly out there.”
He kissed her on the cheek before stepping outside. The door slammed shut behind him.
She watched him walk up to the hood, where the spare was stored in the Porsche Cayman. For a minute his face danced before the steamy windshield, and Karen turned on the wipers. She enjoyed seeing her man getting his hands dirty.
Gary grabbed the spare and headed for the back of the Porsche. Tools banged against the frame of the vehicle as he mounted the tire. Bored, Karen snatched her phone from her purse and started to flip through her latest emails. She had probably checked her messages about a thousand times over the course of the day—another irritating habit she vowed to break in the near future. She’d almost caught up with all her social media when she became aware of the unnatural silence that had descended over the park. She turned her head toward the rear windshield but detected no sign of her beau.
Strange…
Fog fully enveloped the Porsche now, erasing most of the playground from view. Her pulse quickened as a terrible loneliness settled over her. What should she do? Roll down her window and call out for Gary? The mist blowing past the windows made it seem like a bad idea.
“Hey Gary, what’s going on out there?” she shouted.
There was no response.
The fog thickened.
The silence deepened.
Just as she decided to text him, her cell chirped and a message from Gary lit up the screen. Initial relief turned to horror as she realized the screen showed a picture of her boyfriend covered in gore.
Oh my God, no…
Her breath hitched as terror washed over her. The sudden hiss of a spray canister made Karen almost jump out of her seat. She spun toward the rear window as a concentrated stream of blue spray paint hit the glass. She whirled just as a second hiss filled the night and a fiery red blast of paint streaked the front windshield. With trembling fingers, she reached for the ignition key.
A hooded figure stepped out of the mist. Ripped jeans, a black hoodie, face shrouded in darkness. An urban spook. A web of runny paint obscured the silhouette, but Karen could still make out the baseball bat in the stranger’s hands. A second later, the bat came crashing down on the windshield, and Karen’s world turned into an explosion of glass.
When the black veil of unconsciousness finally lifted, Karen found herself lying on a cold, hard floor. She inhaled dusty air and then choked.
Where was she? What had happened?
She remembered the incoming baseball bat, the shattering glass, the gloved hands reaching through the broken windshield. The assailants had fought their way into the Porsche and then dragged her out of the vehicle, where someone zapped her with a Taser. As she’d hit the ground, a boot had swung toward her head. Afterwards, there had only been blackness.
Until now.
Karen stifled another cough and groggily took in her surroundings. She found herself in an enclosed, high-ceilinged space. She lay at the center of a maze of bolted-down tables covered in a thick layer of grime. The dirt-streaked, broken signs of a number of fast food restaurants loomed above her.
Where was she? What was this place?
In the distance, crumbling storefronts were tagged with graffiti. A tangle of wires and cables dangled from cracks in the walls, as if the building’s intestines were breaking through stone skin. Sickly light filtered through a cracked skylight overhead and illuminated twin escalators in the near distance.
Karen suddenly realized where she was. It had to be in the Old Regional Mall, which had closed its doors during the recession. The shopping center had stood empty for years, narrowly avoiding demolition. Eyesore for some, spooky attraction to others, it was a symbol of 21st Century economic decline. Who needed a mall when it was cheaper to shop online?
Investigating the dead mall more closely, Karen noticed a small bonfire burning nearby. Flames flickered and drew grotesque shadows.
The bonfire reminded her that she wasn’t alone in the desolate shopping center. A shudder passed through her and the sense of terror returned. They’d brought her to this forsaken place for a reason. Somewhere in the darkened concourse, her abductors lurked.
And this made her think of Gary, his face covered in a mask of blood. Oh God, what had they done to him? Tears welled up at the thought of her boyfriend’s blood-streaked features and she stifled a sob. No, she couldn’t let them see her break down like this, wouldn’t give those bastards the satisfaction.
Her eyes bored into the darkness. There was no sign of her hooded abductors. Karen expected her kidnappers to show themselves and make their move any moment now, but the mall remained eerily still.
What the hell are they waiting for?
The answer to the question popped into her mind a sec
ond later: They’re drawing it out, playing with me. This is some sick game to them.
God, she’d somehow stumbled into her own personal horror show.
Karen took a few cautious, wobbly steps, legs trembling beneath her, muscles still stiff from the Taser attack and prolonged period of inactivity. Her shoes clacked against the stone floor, echoing creepily in the cavernous space. With an unsteady gait, she approached the bonfire, the flames casting a hypnotic spell. Fire was greedily consuming her personal belongings: her Coach purse, Sephora makeup kit, Tiffany necklace, and iPhone.
“Why are you doing this to me?”
There was no force to her words, her voice breathless with terror. She paused, not really expecting an answer, and was rewarded with the explosive hiss of an aerosol spray can.
She pivoted, eyes searching, trying to determine the direction the sound was coming from.
Her eyes landed on a human silhouette. The figure lurked about thirty feet away, a shadow in the dark mall. The stranger just stood there.
Watching.
Biding his time.
Karen began to retreat, putting some distance between herself and the kidnapper. She reached a stone column and stumbled upon a message scrawled in bright red graffiti:
I SHOP THEREFORE I AM.
The paint bleeding down the wall was still fresh.
Karen shifted her attention back to the ominous figure in the hoodie, but he’d vanished.
Terror mounting, Karen continued walking away from the food court toward a row of shops. She vaguely recalled the main exits being inside JC Penney and Sears. If she could make it to either end of the mall…
Who was she kidding? They would never let her get away. Better to just stay put and face what was coming with open eyes. They were in control here, whoever they might be.
Another hiss emanated from a shadowy corner behind her.
A dark realization clawed itself into her manic thoughts: she was dealing with multiple stalkers!
Occult Assassin: The Complete Series (Books 1-6) Page 34
