Fighting Evil

by Mary Abshire

  "What the fuck?" Jeremy yelled.

  Drake rushed out of the building, tugging me with him. He ran so fast I had to work my legs hard to keep up with him. My feet were bare, but I hardly felt the ground at the rate we were traveling. Behind me, I heard Jeremy splashing in puddles.

  We hurried to the building where the meeting had been held. Drake dragged me down the hall, then released my hand when we reached the spiral stairs.

  "What's going on?" I asked, breathing heavy.

  I followed him down the staircase. The metal steps felt icy cold to my bare feet. Jeremy stayed close to my back. His heat was a pleasing presence.

  "Something has happened," he said.

  I leaped from the last step. "What is it?"

  He grabbed my hand and tugged me. Panic claimed hold of his eyes. "Hurry."

  Drake pulled me into the first room. As we passed Anton at the door, Drake let go of my hand. The room was a quarter of the size of the meeting room with four large wood tables together in the center. Kitchen cabinetry, two refrigerators, two large stoves, and a sink took up the space along the sidewall. Stools and chairs were strewn about while broken dishes and glass covered the floor.

  Nassar stood at the far end of the room. On the ground near him, white hair caught my attention. I peered around the leg of a large wood table and saw an arm in a large pool of dark blood. I stepped closer, my heartbeat steadily accelerating. When I recognized Sean's body lying on the floor, I thought my eyes were deceiving me.

  Chapter Eighteen

  "No!" I ran toward Sean with a flood of emotions—sadness, rage, and disbelief. I stopped before my bare feet touched the dark fluid. Tears filled my eyes while my heart hammered painfully. Sean lay on the ground. His eyes were open and his neck had been sliced from ear to ear.

  "No. No. No." I stared in shock. There was so much blood. I stepped into it, then dropped to my knees. Taking his pale face into my hands, I turned his glassy eyes to me. Tears poured down my cheeks. "Sean," I said in a weak voice. My chest hurt. My heart hurt. The pain was the worst imaginable. "Sean, no, please."

  I cried and struggled to breathe. Who would do this? Why? To get to me? How could this have happened?

  "You will be fine, Jessie," he said, but his lips never moved.

  I blinked the water from my eyes and looked up. Sean's shimmering spirit stood above his motionless body.

  "Everything will be fine," he said.

  "No." The word squeaked out of me.

  Soft light spilled over him. Tiny particles surrounded him like sparkling raindrops. He bent and touched my cheek, spreading warmth, love, and everything good into me. I didn't want to lose him. I didn't want to think about life without him. How could I go on?

  I pressed my hand over his, holding his life force. "Don't go. Please."

  "It's time."

  "Stay a little longer." I gasped for breath.

  "I will always be with you."

  I swallowed. "Tell me who did this." By God, I wanted to know. I wanted to kill the fucker. This wasn't fair. Sean didn't deserve to die.

  "You will always be my daughter. Trust your instincts and you will be fine."

  His hand slid away. I grabbed it and squeezed.

  "Please don't go," I begged, tears streaming from my eyes.

  "You know I must."

  His spiritual form thinned. Within seconds, he slipped from my grasp.

  "Please." I inhaled choppy breaths.

  He smiled as his soul rose toward the ceiling. "We will meet again."

  I bawled, shaking my head. The glimmering drops swirled around him while his spirit floated upward. Like a vapor disappearing into millions of microscopic particles, his soul dissipated until nothing remained.

  A pain I hadn't felt since my mother's death consumed me. For several long minutes, I wept. A man dear to my heart was gone. Why would someone from a supposed ethical organization murder him? Sean was a kind man who never hurt anyone.

  My soul felt empty and my body numb. I half wanted to curl into a ball and soak in misery, but the other part of me wanted revenge. Someone had stripped him from my life. I wanted to destroy that person.

  I stood, wiping my eyes. Blood rolled down my legs as I slowly stepped away from his body. My breaths felt hollow. Pain throbbed in my head as well as my heart and soul. I would get revenge and I didn't care if it damned me to Hell.

  I walked toward Nassar, then stopped in front of him. "Who did this?"

  "We don't know yet. I smelled blood and tracked it to here. The room was empty."

  Jeremy approached. "A servant came to get him. He said you guys wanted to question him." A trace of anger touched his tone.

  "Our meeting ended within fifteen minutes after you left," Nassar said, his voice a steady rhythm, unlike my broken heart.

  Just as I feared, someone had manipulated the servant's mind. I’d suspected something was wrong when I saw his glassy eyes. "Then the servant lied and brought Sean here to meet his murderer."

  "How can you be certain the servant didn't kill him?" Anton asked, drawing near.

  Drake followed behind, but stopped at Sean's feet. He stared down at the lifeless body and slanted his head as if he was a detective examining it.

  My temperature began to rise. I faced Anton. "Sean was a warlock. He could have fought any human with little trouble."

  "The laceration across the throat suggests someone was behind him," Drake said.

  I twisted around and found him studying Sean's neck.

  Drake met Nassar's gaze. "The person had to be quick to avoid any struggle from him."

  "Sean would have fought," I said. "He just…" The words were caught in my throat. I turned my head, unable to stop the flow of tears. After I swallowed and inhaled a shaky breath, I looked up into Nassar's eyes. "One of your kind murdered him."

  "We will investigate this. I give you my word. We will find out who did this," he said, his voice firm, but lacking the compassion I needed to hear. Lacking the determination and wrath I felt and wanted to see in kind.

  I balled my fists tight and stepped toward him, bringing my face close to his. He was created before Christ, probably a million times stronger than Superman, but I didn't fear him. "I want his or her soul. It's mine." I deserved the fiend's soul and I would take pleasure from sending it to Hell.

  "One innocent life has been taken. Does that make the person a good candidate to spend eternity in Hell?" Anton asked.

  What the fuck? Was he kidding me? I clamped my jaw tight. "One life or a hundred—I don't fucking care. Yes, they deserve to spend eternity in Hell."

  "We will find the person and decide how to handle their punishment," Nassar said.

  Jeremy's heated hand gripped my shoulder. "I think we should go and let them work this out."

  I glared at him. Leave? I couldn't. Anger consumed me and I wanted sweet revenge. Fast.

  "Come on." He nudged me. "You need to get away from here and clean up."

  The heat from his hand nearly scorched me. His anger didn't compare to mine, but I understood his message. My emotions were running wild and if I stayed, the demon in me might reveal itself. Wanting the searing heat to end, I followed him toward the door.

  We left the building and walked side by side. The cool breeze along with the sprinkle of rain felt good against my feverish skin. In the distance, waves smashed against the rocks, creating a thunderous noise. Above, clouds shifted, revealing a growing patch of dark sky. In that patch, I saw a shooting star.

  "Look." I pointed.

  "It's a good sign. He's passed on."

  Passed on. My friend. My guardian. My father in many aspects. The one person who always supported me, listened, and cared for me. Gone.

  A new wave of grief came over me. More tears leaked from my eyes and my breathing labored. He was gone, forever. I'd never get to talk to him again, share with him, see him, or hug him. Only the memory of him remained.

  "I'm so sorry, Jessie. I know how much he meant to you.
" Jeremy glided his hand over my back. His energy penetrated my flesh and offered me comfort, but his strength wasn't enough. I couldn't let go of the grief eating away at my heart and soul.

  We reached our building and the front door was still open. The floor was wet, and the air inside smelled of dampness.

  "I'm going to take a long shower." I turned away from Jeremy.

  "Do you need help?"

  I walked toward the bathroom, dragging my dirty bare feet over the floor. "No. I need a little time to think."

  Inside the small room, I shut the door and flipped on the light. Every nerve and muscle felt numb, yet, somehow, I functioned. After I stripped my clothes, leaving them in a pile on the floor, I stepped into the tub. I turned on the tap and warm water hit me in the face. It didn't take long for the grieving to take hold.

  I washed all the dirt and blood away, then sat in the tub. I scrunched my knees to my chest and bawled for the longest time. I remembered all the good times Sean and I shared, all the laughs, and all the learning mistakes. I recalled the days and weeks after my mother's death, how timid and nervous we both were. Slowly, our friendship blossomed. He was always kind, always generous, and always helpful. Now, he was a memory.

  A soft rap at the door brought my mind to the present.

  "Jessie, I have some clean clothes for you." Jeremy pushed open the door, then peeked in.

  "Leave them on the counter." My voice came out little more than a croak.

  He did. Then he kneeled on the floor near the tub, placed his hand on my wet head, and kissed the top. "I know you're hurting. It will get better."

  I nodded as I wiped my eyes. "I just don't understand why someone would want him dead."

  "To hurt you. To show you are not above them."

  I directed my tired eyes to Jeremy. "They don't know me very well." My lips moved, but my voice was silent.

  "I will help you." He mouthed the words.

  Looking deep into his eyes, I saw compassion and understanding. He had asked to give him time to prove himself and here was all the proof I needed. I also noticed he kept his attention above my shoulders, rather than on my naked body. That in itself was another remarkable feat.

  He leaned forward and kissed my forehead. "You need rest."

  "I'll be out in a few minutes." I squeezed my legs closer, crushing my breasts.

  Jeremy left, leaving me alone again. I cried a little while longer until I tired of crying. Then anger replaced grief. I wanted to find out who’d killed Sean. I wanted his soul, regardless of what any of the VETOV thought.

  Drained to the hilt in heart, mind, and soul, I dried off and dressed. Jeremy had left Snoopy and Woodstock nightclothes for me. The two Peanuts characters were Sean's favorite. I held back the tears as I thought of him. After I combed my hair, I headed for the bedroom.

  I strolled numbly into the room with dirty clothes in my arms. Jeremy sat on the twin bed he'd claimed, his back against the headboard.

  "You look like a zombie," he said.

  I dropped the clothes in a pile with the others near the wall. "I feel like one."

  My exhausted mind begged for sleep. The twin bed nearest the windows called to me. I tugged back the covers, then snuggled underneath them. Resting my head on the pillow, I closed my eyes. After few breaths, my mind finally shut down.

  I woke up later, gasping with eyes wide. I'd had a dream someone choked me in the room where I’d last seen Sean's body. Odder yet, it was as if I had seen myself through his eyes, but I couldn't see the person strangling me. I shook the image from my head and blinked to clear the sleepiness from my eyes. Dim light flowed into the room while rain patted against the oval windows in the stony wall. I turned in the opposite direction. The clock on the nightstand showed it was mid-afternoon. I also noticed the bed next to me was empty.

  "Jeremy?" I called out.

  When I didn't get any response, I slipped out of the covers. I hoped he hadn't left to find Sean's killer without me. Worse yet, I hoped something bad hadn't happened to him, too. I strolled into the living room. Sitting near the phone on the small table, I found a notepad propped up against the wall. I recognized Jeremy's writing and picked up the pad.

  "Drake came by. The servant is gone. Leaving with Drake to search outside the fort. Stay here," I read aloud.

  I dropped the pad and it smacked on the table. Skepticism picked at my brain. Jeremy working with Drake? The thought was laughable. However, Jeremy was the only other person to recognize the servant who had left with Sean. Maybe Jeremy would work with Drake in an effort to find Sean's killer. Yeah, he'd do it for me.

  Ambling my way back to the bedroom, I considered what I could do. The idea of staying in a boring suite lacked appeal, especially when Sean's death needed a thorough investigation, and I didn't trust the vampires handling the matter. I couldn't sit and twiddle my thumbs. I needed to revisit the crime scene and explore for myself. What better time than the present?

  Once I changed into a pair of jeans and a t-shirt, I dashed through the rain, heading for the building I'd come to dread. The ground was soaking wet and puddles had merged into miniature ponds. I stayed in the grass, but sunk a little with each step.

  I reached the building and rapped on the door in an urgent appeal for entry. Standing inches from the door, I waited for an answer. Rain drenched me, since there was no awning or shelter for me to stand under. After what seemed like an eternity, a male servant opened the door.

  "Hi, sorry." I charged past him, then stopped in the middle of the entryway.

  The man had short, spiky blond hair and smelled of expensive cologne. He stared at me with huge blue eyes. "Are you all right?"

  "Yes, just trying to get out of the downpour." I swiped away the strands of hair that clung to my face. "Does it ever stop raining here?"

  A slight grin slid over his lips before he shut the door. "The sun doesn't shine nearly enough." He had a British accent.

  "If you don't mind, I'd like to look around in the kitchen, down in the bunker." I wiped my wet arms and hands behind me, on my shirt.

  "Sure." He pointed toward the hall. "While you're here, would you like a towel to dry off with?"

  I proceeded with slow steps. "Yes, please. That would be nice."

  He walked at my side as an escort. "Why don't you go ahead and I will bring it to you."

  "Okay." I smiled. "Thank you."

  He turned around and left while I stayed on my path. The taps of his shoes grew distant.

  I descended the spiral staircase to the empty bunker. The two doors on the left were both closed and, unlike other times, no one was in sight. When I reached the first door, my heart started speeding. Was I ready to enter the last place I’d seen Sean? I inhaled a deep breath and twisted the knob.

  A cold chill ran down my spine as I entered the room. I flipped on the lights and found the kitchen had been cleaned up. Chairs were upright, pushed under the four wood tables, and the scent of citrus hung in the air. I stepped around the tables on my way to the back. The floors were shiny and not a trace of broken glass remained. I reached the corner and stopped. No body. No blood. Nothing.

  The image of Sean lying on the floor appeared in my mind. I swallowed, holding back the agonizing pain that could consume me if I let it. I’d come to search for clues, not cry anymore.

  "I have your towel," the servant said. He headed toward me, holding a thick brown cloth in his hand.

  "Do you know who cleaned up this area?" I asked.

  He stopped in front of me. "Me and about six other guys." He handed the towel to me. "By the way, my name is Jack."

  "Thanks, Jack." I rubbed the soft linen over my arms. "My name is Jessie."

  "I was here when the dancer attacked you the other night. I'll never forget seeing her fly across the room. Any idea why she stabbed you?"

  I folded the cloth and patted my face. "I'm not liked by some of the members."

  "Really?" A look of shock claimed his face. "Then why are you here?"
>
  "It's a long story." I turned away from him, avoiding further explanation. "Do you know if anyone was in here after you cleaned it up?"

  "Not that I know of."

  I glanced around the room, taking in every detail. The counters were bare. The cabinets and walls appeared intact. Wait, the long beige-stone wall leading up to the cabinetry had a brown door. I hadn't noticed it before. I walked toward it. There was a deadbolt above the handle.

  "Is this door locked?" I asked, twisting the knob. The door didn't budge.

  "Probably." He drew near. "You have to have a key to get past there."

  Peering closer, I noticed the keyhole faced us. I turned and met his gaze. "Do you know what's beyond the door?"

  "No, I've never seen it open," he said with a steady gaze—a good indication he was truthful. "This is only my second time visiting here."

  I looked at the door again. Why would they keep it locked? What was behind the mysterious door?

  "Is there anything else I can help you with?" Jack asked.

  I touched the brass deadbolt. The fixture was cold. "No, thanks."

  "I'll be off then." Jack gave a nod before he left.

  I stared at the door. In the distance behind me, I heard a soft click. The room was silent once again. I glided my fingers around the edges of the wood. The seal was good and I didn't feel a trace of air. I pressed my ear to the spot where the door and wall met, hoping to hear something—a whiff of air, a hum, or buzz, anything. What I heard was dead silence.

  I stepped back and surveyed the area where I'd last seen Sean. The image of his body on the floor reappeared in my mind. I looked from the door I'd entered to the place where Sean's body was. A big question came to mind. How had his body ended up so far away from the main entrance?

  Other images surfaced from when Drake had brought me in the room. The only blood on the floor was around Sean's body. Someone couldn't have attacked him by the main door. Evidence of blood would've been on the ground or walls. Granted, I was too distraught at the time to look close enough. Still, I should've seen drops of blood outside of the pool that had surrounded his body, and I hadn’t. Given the placement of his body and the lack of evidence to support a struggle, I wondered if someone had come in through the second door, snuck up behind Sean, then cut his throat.