Black-Hearted Devil

by Sierra Dean

  “You and me both,” I said. “But thankfully I’m not planning on dying any time soon.”

  “That’s a relief,” Lucas added. He was trying to smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. I had no idea what this must be like for him, and had no clue whatsoever of how to put him at ease.

  There were about a million questions that would need to be answered now that Lucas was alive again, but they were all going to have to wait until we put my other three wights in the ground.

  “Why is it, you suppose, that Morgan came back so much sooner than the others? She’s been around for the past year, and honestly she hasn’t tried to kill me that whole time. She just sort of shows up to freak me out and give me nightmares, then disappears for a few months.”

  “I think I can answer that, actually,” Wilder chimed in.

  “Oh this should be good,” Santiago said.

  Wilder ignored him and pressed on. “What you saw at La Sorciere’s. You remembered killing her.”

  Secret and Lucas exchanged a loaded glance, and it was only then that I realized Secret had never told me what happened in the hotel. She’d explained that Lucas and Morgan had died in the fire, but she had let me believe I was totally innocent of anything that had happened there.

  She had been trying to protect me, but as a result I’d let the subconscious memory of what I’d done fester into something dark and evil.

  I knew then, reading the guilt on her face, that we were both all too aware that this whole situation could have been avoided if she had told me what I’d done.

  I searched my heart, trying to find something like anger or resentment there, but I couldn’t. She did what she thought she had to at the time. I’d been a very, very different person during the siege on New York. I’d been a teenager who barely had control over my powers, and she thought she had to protect me.

  I got it.

  I just wished things were different.

  “Yes, I killed Morgan.”

  “You remember?” she asked me.

  “I do now.”

  “Oh, Genie, I’m so sorry.”

  I waved off her apology. “There’s nothing you need to be sorry for. I’m sorry for what happened too.” I looked at Lucas. There were all manner of wrongdoings that had gone down that night, and his dying seemed like it was as much my fault as Morgan’s death.

  At least I’d been able to undo one thing for the better.

  “Right, you killed her, and it was probably doing that that set this whole thing in motion. Your guilt over killing her brought her back before anyone else, but because you didn’t know who she was or what you felt guilty for, the curse just kept growing, touching everyone you felt responsible for.”

  I thought about this, and there was a weird kind of logic to it I hadn’t considered before. “So bringing Morgan back was the entire point of the spell, but because I didn’t know what to do with it, things kept getting worse.”

  “That still doesn’t explain why Morgan and Lucas seem to just want to hang out, but Deerling and Mercy want to kill her,” Secret added.

  “Mercy sort of wants to kill everyone,” I reminded her. “And killing me was the last thing on Deerling’s mind when he died.”

  “To be fair, it was sort of the last thing on Mercy’s mind, too,” Lucas pointed out.

  I gave a helpless shrug. “I don’t know, guys. I don’t have the answers to this any more than you do.”

  “I have an idea,” Wilder said.

  We all turned to look at him, and he smiled. “Let’s go kill something and see if it stays dead.”

  “I like him,” Secret said. “He’s a keeper.”

  Chapter Twenty-five

  Two hours and two cars later, we arrived in Franklinton.

  It was just as much a dingy hell-hole as it had been when Wilder and I visited it last, with the faintly abandoned vibe of a place that was just on the verge of giving up.

  We bypassed the main stretch of town and headed towards the outskirts, where the enormous building that had once housed the Church of Morning stood.

  The mammoth complex that might put your average Christian mega-church to shame, loomed like an enormous empty temple against the fading light of day.

  My body ached from exhaustion, and I wanted nothing more than to go to bed, but it seemed like the more we got into this the further from sleep I found myself. Hell, I’d settle for twenty quick minutes in the backseat of a car right now, but even that felt like a fever dream.

  Wilder parked my Dart next to Santiago’s truck, and we got out, staring up at the behemoth structure as if it might turn into a monster itself and try to devour us.

  As we were staring, a third car pulled into the parking lot, and I recognized the rusting exterior immediately. Detective Bryce Perry parked on the opposite side of the Dart and climbed out wearing that fake police smile that told me we were in for it before he even spoke.

  “Evening, y’all.” He tipped an imaginary cap at us. “What brings you out this far from town? Couldn’t possibly have anything to do with the case I told you about, could it? Because I was under the impression you and I had an agreement about that, Ms. McQueen.”

  “Are you following me?” I was honestly shocked. Though he evidently had good reason not to trust me, I sort of thought we had an agreement that he’d let me break the law as long as it was helping people. Like Commissioner Gordon and Batman.

  “In spite of your apparent belief that I have nothing better to do with my time than trail you around, no, I’m not following you. I’m here doing an investigation and your little caravan heading right for a crime scene was sort of hard to miss. What are you doing here?”

  Lucas looked Bryce up and down and said, “You probably shouldn’t answer that.”

  “Who’s this guy?” Bryce asked. “Actually who the hell are all of these people?”

  Secret brightened, seeming to recall she had federal authority, and whipped out her badge. “FBI. Special Agent Secret McQueen.” There was a pure kind of mirth in her tone that told me she still hadn’t gotten sick of saying that.

  “And you’re here on whose authority, Agent McQueen?” Bryce gave me a look that clearly said he wasn’t buying a single ounce of my bullshit.

  “The case involves an undead werewolf, Detective Perry. My branch of the FBI is specialized to deal with precisely this kind of case, and I’m actually surprised I had to find out about it on my own rather than being brought in for a consultation directly. I thought all police understood they were supposed to report things that were out of the ordinary to our department.”

  “Ma’am, respectfully, I’m a New Orleans homicide detective. If I had to report every strange thing I’ve seen in my job to you, you guys would never get a lick of work done for the rest of your unnatural lives.”

  “Be that as it may, I think being aware of an undead werewolf might be strange enough to warrant a polite email to our office, don’t you think?”

  “I made certain groups aware of the threat.” He looked directly at me. “Though I had hoped they would share the courtesy.”

  “Hey now.” I tried to offer him a friendly smile, but he wasn’t having it. “This wasn’t really a plan until about two hours ago, and I was pretty sure you didn’t want to know what we were up to. At least until we were done.”

  “You’re going to try to kill Deerling, aren’t you?” he asked.

  “I wouldn’t answer that, either,” Lucas said.

  “Who’s the lawyer?” Bryce asked.

  “Lucas Rain,” I told him.

  Bryce snorted. “You must think I was born yesterday. Lucas Rain? The billionaire? He died in New York during the invasion.”

  “And Timothy Deerling died a year ago, about two hundred feet from where we’re standing. I’m pretty sure anything you used to think was impossible needs to be reassessed, detective.”

  Bryce took off his glasses, wiped them on his shirt, then gave Lucas another look, though I don’t think he was any more con
vinced than he had been previously. Lucas had been something of a recluse when he’d been alive, keeping his face largely out of the press to avoid unnecessary scrutiny falling on him and his pack. Now that the werewolves were out in public, there was a memorial to him where the Rain hotel had once been, and where he’d died, but still, it wasn’t surprising that just seeing him wasn’t enough for Bryce.

  “Genie, can we have a word?” He inclined his head towards the passenger side of his car, and I gave a nod to Wilder to let him know it was okay. Wilder wandered off to join the others, giving Bryce and I some privacy.

  I got into the car, and found that he’d cleaned it up a little since the last time I’d been inside. There were still food containers and coffee cups on the floor, but I could make a place to put my feet, and it didn’t look quite so much like an archeological expedition into his gastronomical tendencies. He’d developed a bit of a Starbucks habit, if the green and white cups were any indication. Several of them said Bruce in black sharpie.

  He got in and closed the driver’s door, then turned his body towards me. In closer quarters I could smell his deodorant and a lingering aroma of a cologne he’d probably put on the night before.

  “You can’t honestly expect me to let you run around town with the intent of killing someone.”

  “I never said that was my plan.”

  “You never denied it either.”

  “A lack of denial isn’t the same as an admission, and I think that’s sort of how laws work. We haven’t done anything wrong, and we’re here with a federal agent.”

  “A federal agent who happens to be your sister, and a guy who’s claiming to be a dead billionaire.”

  “Not claiming. He is Lucas Rain.”

  “Jesus Christ, Genie, do you think you might offer me a little more insight into what’s going on here? You and I both know your sister isn’t here in any sort of official capacity.”

  “She can make it official with a single phone call.”

  “Well last I checked the FBI doesn’t have the right to sign death warrants. This is still a country with due process.”

  “Can you even hear yourself? Timothy Deerling died. He was shot in the face. Then he came back and he killed someone. You might be a cop, but I think we can all agree this son of a bitch is better off back in the grave than awaiting trial somewhere.”

  Bryce stared at me, then slammed his hand against the steering wheel. “Honest to God, I wish I’d never met you, you know that? Ever since I saw you at that crime scene I said to myself, this girl is going to be nothing but headaches for me. And you have been so much more trouble than I ever could have guessed.”

  I smiled at him. “But I’m so adorable.”

  He rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Not this time, kid. You’re likable enough when you’re not up to your nostrils in death and demon blood, but I’m starting to think those moments are the exception and not the rule.”

  “Busted.”

  “You can’t kill Timothy Deerling.”

  “Well, not to cop to anything, but we’re sort of hoping to prove the opposite.”

  “Genie.”

  “Bryce.”

  “Please don’t kill anyone.”

  “I am merely assisting in a federal investigation.”

  “I hate you so much.”

  “Nah, you love me.”

  “If I could put you in jail for being a pain in my ass, I would.”

  I chuckled, unable to help myself. I knew there wasn’t anything particularly funny about how crazy I made the detective, but at the same time it was completely hilarious. “Look, here’s the thing, you don’t even know if we’ll find him. And as far as you know, he split town already. So just let us go look in the church, and we’ll finish our investigation, and you never, ever need to know what we found in there.”

  He stared at me, and I stared back.

  “You’re asking me to let you kill a man.”

  “No, Bryce, I’m asking you not to follow me into that building, that’s all.”

  He stared out of the windshield, taking in the church, and the hazy orange glow around it with the setting sun sinking behind it. It looked menacing, imposing, and not at all like a friendly place to hang out.”

  Finally he let out a long sigh. “The alarm code is 1745. I will be back in forty minutes to do my nightly check. I don’t want to have to call for back up or an ambulance, is that clear?”

  “Crystal.”

  “And tell your sister I want an official request from her office to conduct an investigation. If I have to explain footage of you idiots on those cameras later, I want something to cover my ass.”

  “Consider your ass fully covered.”

  “And Genie?” He stopped me before I could get out of the car. “This is the last time I put my neck on the line for you.”

  Chapter Twenty-six

  The church was dark and spooky inside, made somehow more inhospitable by how clean and modern it was. Someone, at least until recently, had been taking care of the place as if they were waiting for the church members to return and open up shop again. There wasn’t a speck of dust anywhere, even though the building hadn’t been used in almost a year.

  I lead us through the doors and into the waiting darkness.

  A fiery orange glow emanated from the main pulpit area, where the setting sun had set the whole room ablaze. Out in the lobby, it gave the impression that the building was on fire, which was its own kind of disconcerting.

  “Do we really think he’s still here?” Secret asked. “Why would he come back here after killing someone? Wouldn’t it make more sense to come looking for you?”

  “He wouldn’t know where to look,” I reminded her. “This is the only place he ever saw me. I think him recording that video was his way of making sure I came for him, and saving himself the effort. The spell doesn’t seem to work like a homing device or anything. Mercy went to where she was buried. Lucas went to Callum’s. Morgan seems to wander around until she stumbles across me. Deerling showed up the last place he saw me alive. None of them knew where I lived. At least until Ben teamed up with Mercy. Thanks, asshole.”

  “So you think he’s just holed up here, hoping you’ll show yourself?” Secret said.

  “Yeah, that’s sort of the angle I’m playing with. If he’s not here, he’s somewhere nearby. I’m what he’s looking for, and I think he knows that if he poses a big enough risk to other peoples’ lives, I’ll come to stop him.”

  “That’s a lot of ifs, brujita,” Santiago said from the back of the pack. “If we can find something that belongs to him, I can tell you exactly where he is.”

  Lucas nodded his ascent. “I like Santiago’s plan.”

  “You won’t when you see where Deerling kept his personal possessions.” I glanced over at Wilder’s whose frown had deepened. I knew he was remembering the video footage of his brother locked in a cage right below where we were standing now, being tortured by the man we were looking for.

  But Santiago had a point. We could waste our time wandering around a dark mega-church, or we could use magic to bring the answers right to us. I voted for what was behind door number two.

  “Come on.” We moved into the main chamber of the church and down the aisles towards the stage up at the front. It was more than a little eerie being in such a large church while it was completely empty.

  At the front, just by the base of the alter, was a large bloodstain soaked into the carpet. My nose wrinkled, telling me it was fresh, and likely from the security guard whose death we had witnessed on the video feed.

  Wilder’s attention was drawn to another darkened patch in the rug. This one looked as if someone had tried to clean it after the fact and hadn’t quite been able to remove it.

  The spot triggered an unwelcome flash of memory. Me, trying to hold a gunshot closed as Wilder bled out in my arms.

  It was his blood staining the carpet there.

  I swallowed hard and had to look away. “Let’s k
eep going,” I urged.

  We moved past the two stains and to a door on the far side of the stage that was marked with a Private sign. I didn’t want to open it, but if we were going to find anything here that belonged to Deerling, this would be the place. The door was locked, but a simple lock wasn’t much use against werewolf strength. I turned the knob hard, crushing the brass in my hand like metallic bubblegum. The door opened easily after that.

  If the lobby of the church had felt dark and unwelcoming, the stairwell leading down to the basement was downright spooky.

  “I’ll stay up top and keep an eye out,” Wilder volunteered. From anyone else I might tease him and ask if he was too scared, but the truth is, we’d been down these stairs together once before, and I didn’t blame him for not wanting to face those memories a second time.

  That he was willing to stand within sight of his own bloodstains on the carpet rather than go to the basement told me he definitely wasn’t a coward.

  The rest of us went down single file. I found the string for a light bulb at the base of the stairs, but when I pulled it nothing happened. Guess only select things had been left operational in the church. No one had bothered to come down here and check on a bulb.

  I took out my phone and engaged the flashlight app. Somehow using a flashlight down here made it ten times scarier. Every shadowy corner was a place Deerling might be hiding, waiting to jump out at us. My heart was in my throat the entire time as I swept the light over the room.

  The cops had taken a lot of stuff out of here after Deerling had been shot. The cages where he’d once kept werewolves like Hank were gone, so too was his collection of bones and werewolf paraphernalia. Still, the place had a serial killer’s trophy room vibe to it I couldn’t shake, in spite of how empty it looked now.

  I spotted a pair of work gloves on the counter and handed them to Santiago. They still had the very faint scent of Deerling on them, so even if they hadn’t been his per se, he had definitely worn them. That should be good enough for a locator spell. Something with his blood on it would have been the best, but we couldn’t exactly be picky here.