***
Light dazzled Itzel when she opened her eyes. She sat in the Volkswagen, clutching the steering wheel. Her view that of the rest stop parking lot. She blinked. Her clothing was untouched, but she knew from the aching soreness of her body that the vision had been real. Itzel turned her head, still holding onto the steering wheel as if it would save her life. The High Priest sat beside her. He smiled.
“Welcome back.”
Itzel wanted to kill him. “Why?”
“The gods have shown me the next step. I needed a vessel.”
Itzel stared forward, her arms aching from the way she gripped the steering wheel. The same family from the coffee shop walked across in front of her. Still laughing. Vessel? What does he mean, vessel?
He seemed to hear her unspoken question. “The world will change. Life will start again. I needed a vessel.”
“Why?” Itzel asked, and dreaded the answer.
His hand stroked her stomach. “Because you, Itzel Capriel, have been chosen by the gods to be the mother of my child.”
***
Ramon read the message on his cellphone and frowned. Strange. He looked out of the passenger window of the SUV. The skies looked clear, the odd cloud but nothing to worry about.
“What is it?” Ramon heard Yancha ask, and mentally kicked himself for taking so long to read Itzel’s message.
“It’s from Itzel,” Ramon said.
“And what does it say?” Now they were miles from the High Priest Yancha had moved back into his ‘I’m in charge’ mode, even though the acolytes were running the show.
“She says there is a storm heading our way and we should try to avoid it.”
Yancha did what Ramon had done and looked out of the window. “Looks okay to me, but storms can come on quickly in these parts, like tornadoes.”
“Perhaps that’s what she means,” Ramon said. He re-read the message.
A storm is heading towards you. Try to avoid it.
Ramon cleared the screen. Yancha was telling one of the acolytes about the message. Ramon had not bothered learning their names. They all looked very similar. Squat, muscular men with swarthy skin and dark, lank hair. They could have been brothers. So Ramon just called them Acolyte One, Two and Three. He hoped he wouldn’t have to spend too much longer in their company as the SUV drove along a two-lane highway somewhere near the Georgia-North Carolina border.
The SUV wasn’t the one they’d hired. That now sat in a garage of a house just outside Toccoa. The owners of this one wouldn’t miss it as their bodies were now lying in the trunk of the hire car with holes in their heads. The acolytes had done that work, pushing into the house as the male owner opened the front door. Husband and wife were shot, executioner style, by Acolyte Two. Ramon didn’t like him for that. Itzel always said that killing was a necessary part of their work but taking enjoyment out of it changed a person from a human being to a monster. Ramon didn’t consider Itzel to be a monster. Ruthless, yes. Hard and dangerous, for sure, but not a monster.
The car slowed and made a turn off the road and onto an unmade track that led into a patch of woodland. They bounced along the rutted earth until far enough into the trees that they couldn’t be seen from the road. Ramon waited, nervous.
Acolyte One turned and said, “From here, we walk.”
The others got out of the car. Ramon thought about replying to Itzel and asking more about the storm. What time did the forecast say it was due to arrive? And from which direction? He could then keep an eye on the horizon for dark clouds.
Ramon didn’t even start typing the message. His door opened, and Acolytle Three said,
“Out.”
Ramon joined them on the earth track made sticky by recent rain. A cool wind blew through the trees. Leaves rustled and branches clacked together above Ramon’s head. Acolyte Three took the holdalls they’d brought from the aircraft out of the trunk and opened them. Acolyte Two handed out the AK47s and bandoliers of magazines. Ramon strapped his bandolier over his shoulder and across his chest. He put a magazine into his AK.
When they were ready, Acolyte One pointed and said, “The house with the girl is a mile away, through the woodland and across a field.”
“How do you know?” Ramon asked. Dark eyes fixed him with a look that chilled his bones.
“The gods are guiding us.”
“Have they told you there is a storm coming?” Ramon asked.
Acolyte One stared at him in disgust. “We don’t care about storms.”
“I was just saying.” Ramon trailed away into silence. The acolytes started out. Yancha followed like an obedient puppy. Ramon, still smarting at the way One had spoken to him, gave them a twenty-metre head start before he set off. The path they took wound through natural woodland. A winding route to avoid clumps of bushes and fallen branches. Ramon caught up with Yancha and said, “Do you believe them?”
“About what?” Yancha grunted, not looking at him.
“The gods guiding them.”
Yancha sighed. “You have so much to learn. If you hadn’t wasted time trying to charm Itzel, then maybe you would have listened when we explained things.”
“I thought only the priests could communicate with the gods.” Ramon stumbled as a trailing vine caught his leg. He swore as Yancha laughed. “Well?”
“The gods choose who they communicate with,” Yancha said.
Ramon realised that Three had dropped back and stood directly in front of them now.
“Stay quiet from here,” Three said.
Ramon watched the killer stride away. He felt his hand brush across the metal of the AK. All three acolytes were in front of him. Switch from safe to automatic fire and they’d be dead within seconds. Turn the gun on Yancha and then run to the car. He could be on the road in a few minutes.
Yancha must have sensed Ramon’s thought because he said, “The gods will punish you.”
Ramon didn’t ask why. He let his hand drop to his side and walked on without another word until the trees thinned out and he found himself standing beside a white painted rail fence that bordered a paddock. On the far side stood a row of stables and beyond them two barns and finally an imposing farmhouse. They must be guided by the gods. I would never have known this place was here.
He knelt alongside the acolytes, watching the farm. It appeared lifeless, but One said the girl lived there. He pointed up into the sky. “See, the gods have marked it.”
Ramon couldn’t see anything up there, just blue sky and streaks of cirrus clouds crossed by the contrails of high-flying passenger jets. “What’s up there?” he asked.
“Darkness,” One said and moved away.
As hard as he looked, Ramon saw no sign of darkness above the farm. He sighed, what must it be like to be able to communicate with the gods. To be so trusted and...
Darkness.
A storm is heading towards you. Try to avoid it.
Ramon took a breath to steady his nerves. Itzel wanted to warn him. The storm heading his way was the attack on the farm. She knew something about it. Ramon’s eyes slipped to the acolytes. They knew. He could tell. One of them even glanced Ramon’s way with a sly grin on his face.
I’m going to die.
“Yancha?” he whispered. “Yancha, we have to get out of here.”
The muzzle of an AK47 pushed into his ribcage. Yancha shook his head. “We are going nowhere.”
“But they want us to die.” Ramon’s voice turned hoarse with fear.
“The gods want us to die,” Yancha said. “If that is what they want then we have to accept it. Here or somewhere else makes no difference.”
Ramon looked down at Yancha’s AK. “You can’t shoot,” he said. “The sound will alert the girl’s guards.”
“Who needs guns?” Yancha asked, and nodded his head in the direction of the acolytes.
Ramon saw Two coming at him, clutching a huge knife. Ramon’s sweaty hands slipped off the butt of the AK as he tried to grab it. Yancha beat the assault
rifle from his grasp and left Ramon holding air. Yancha grabbed a handful of Ramon’s hair and bent his head back, exposing his throat to Acolyte Two.
Ramon made a strangled sound of protest before a sharp voice said,
“Wait.”
They froze into a sickening tableau. Yancha with a knee in Ramon’s back and holding his head back. Two, with the serrated blade of his hunting knife an inch from Ramon’s throat and Ramon, praying for release.
Across the paddock, they saw movement. Not threatening, but enough to make One stop the killing. He needed silence and no movement. Yancha relaxed his grip a fraction. Ramon could breathe a little easier. Two settled onto his haunches, still close enough to make Ramon know that he would still die soon if he didn’t try to escape. Ramon watched the people by the stables. Is the child there? It seemed to be all adults.
Ramon saw her. One of the group led a pony from the stables and into the paddock. They spent a few minutes sorting the saddle and bridle, and then a man lifted the girl onto the animal’s back. A grey-haired woman took the bridle in hand. She led pony and rider in a slow circle. Some of the men clapped, as if the girl had achieved a great feat. The woman walked on, making her circle bigger with each turn until Ramon realised that she intended to walk the full perimeter of the paddock. She would come so close to them they would be able to reach out and touch her.
Acolyte Two leaned close and hissed, “Take cover.”
Yancha pulled Ramon down onto the leaf litter. Ramon felt the damp through his clothing. They lay, looking under the lowest rail and across the paddock. The acolytes spread out, forming a line along the fence. Yancha tugged Ramon along the ground until they sheltered next to a thorny bush.
“Do not move,” Yancha whispered. “And do not make a sound.”
Yancha pulled Ramon’s AK47 away from him. Ramon knew his future life was limited if he tried to escape. So he lay, as ordered, and waited for the girl to die.
And wondered if he would be next.
***
“I think this is a good idea,” Jason Buhl said, resting his forearms on the rail fence and watching as Monica Birch led pony and Emily around the paddock.
Pete didn’t answer for a moment. Part of him wanted Emily back in the house where she would be safe, but Buhl saw things differently and Pete had to agree. “I guess it helps take her mind off what’s happened.”
“Has Emily ever ridden before?” Buhl and Pete waved as the pony turned towards them. Emily looked nervous but excited.
“No.” Pete wiped a tear from his eye.
Buhl pretended not to notice and said,
“She looks natural. See the way she’s sitting and holding the reins.”
“I wouldn’t know what to look for,” Pete said. He noticed two more of the DSI team coming their way. Bob Pruitt and Stan Drake with sub-machine guns slung over their shoulders reminded Pete exactly why they were at the farm.
“Well from the look on her face I’d say your next purchase will be a horse.” Buhl pointed at Drake and Pruitt. “Looks like Monica is going to do a full circuit, take up positions on the far side of the paddock.”
The two men climbed over the fence and jogged around the paddock, giving Emily plenty of room. She didn’t notice, too absorbed with staying on the back of the pony. Buhl seemed happy to let Pete watch in silence now. The DSI agent climbed the fence and leaned against it on the inside. Pete thought about Jane. She’d grown up in a small town and would love the peace of this place. He closed his eyes as he remembered her smile.
Oh, God.
“If you want to go back inside we can keep an eye on Emily. She looks settled now, and Monica will want her to care for the pony properly once the ride is over. She’ll have to put the tack away, brush him down, maybe even clean the stable out.”
“You want to keep Emily busy?” Pete asked.
“Yeah.” Buhl smiled. “You didn’t get much sleep last night. Best try to get some rest while you can.”
“Okay.” Pete watched Emily for a few more seconds until Monica turned the pony away. “Take care of her.”
“Of course,” Buhl said, as Pete limped away.
***
The ground looked a long way down to Emily as she sat on the back of Chester. Monica insisted he was only ‘small’, but he seemed huge to her right now.
“How’re you doing, Emily?” Monica looked back over her shoulder and gave her a smile.
“I’m good,” Emily said.
“Do you want to go a little faster?”
“Faster?” Emily sounded surprised. “I thought we were going fast.”
Monica laughed. “No, this is a slow walk. I can jog a little way around the paddock and get Chester up into a trot?”
“Will I fall off?” Faster? Trot? That doesn’t sound good.
“No, you’ll be fine. Shall we try?”
“Okay,” Emily said, with some reluctance.
Monica clicked her tongue, “Trot on,” she said and began to jog.
The whole motion of the pony changed, and Emily had to change to it, Monica calling out instructions that came in a rush that Emily couldn’t process. “Slow down, slow down,” she said, and to her relief Monica eased Chester into a walk.
“Too much?” Monica asked.
“Yeah,” Emily said, with a shaky smile. “Maybe another day.”
“That’s the spirit.” Monica reached back and patted Emily on the leg. “Want to return to the stable now?”
“Once more around?” Emily asked. She looked for Pete and couldn’t see him, but Jason Buhl gave her a wave from where he stood. Emily waved back.
Monica led Chester in a curve that took them towards the woodland that bordered one side of the paddock. Emily settled into the saddle again, letting the rhythm of Chester’s movement rock her body. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Stan Drake strolling down the fence line, keeping pace with her. She waved to him, and he waved back, before her hand returned to hold the reins as Chester baulked. Emily, not expecting the sudden stop, rocked forward over his neck.
“Oh, Chester,” Monica said, as the pony pulled back against her. “Hold on with your legs, Emily.”
The pony snorted and shook his head. “What’s wrong, Chester?” Emily reached down to pat his neck. The animal shivered beneath her and his eyes rolled in his head as if he wanted Emily to see what was above them. Emily looked. She saw a haze, like a cloud of mosquitoes, floating twenty or thirty feet over her head. The cloud spread, like a blanket, and Emily saw the fluid movement of a face against the sky. A watermark that blinked and smiled.
“Monica?” Emily said in a small voice.
“Yes?” Monica concentrated on Chester as the skittish horse skipped left again.
“We need to get into the house.”
Monica looked at the girl. Something in the way Emily spoke and the way she stared into the sky made Monica pull Chester’s head down.
“Let me help you off.” Monica reached to support Emily as the girl slipped one foot out of the stirrups and lifted her leg over the saddle.
Chester hopped again, and Emily fell backwards into Monica’s arms as the former diplomat dropped her hold on Chester and grabbed Emily. The pony pawed the ground, turning again. With Emily safely on her feet, Monica made a grab for Chester’s bridle just as four AK47s opened up and gunfire rolled across the paddock.
***
Ramon waited for the girl to die. She sat upon her horse, only fifteen yards from the line of gunmen, and he didn’t think he had ever seen an easier target. He saw Acolyte One make a gesture, pointing Two at the bodyguard who had sauntered down from the stable block and now stood away to their left. The other guard had circled around and stood to their right. One’s hand moved again, making Yancha aware that the second guard was his target. Yancha nodded and settled into position, aiming his AK across the paddock.
Ramon so wanted to run that it made his legs ache. But somewhere above them, a god lurked, ready to leap upon the girl and eat her
soul. Ramon hoped it would give him a chance to escape. He looked again, searching the sky even as he saw the horse become skittish and the girl too looked up.
She can see the god.
Ramon heard One count down, “Tres, dos, uno, fuego.” The AKs deafened him as Yancha and the acolytes opened fire.
Everything seemed to happen at once. The horse, still spooked by something, swung around between shooters and girl, so the first rounds slapped into the animal’s body. Ramon saw the beast fall, its stomach and chest torn by the volley. The woman grabbed the child and pulled her down as bullets split the air above them. The acolytes couldn’t control the recoil as the muzzles of their AKs rose and emptied the rest of the magazines across the paddock. Ramon heard Yancha swear, he’d missed his target. The guard sprinted left and returned fire.
And now Ramon saw the god as he descended out of the sky. A face at first, joined by a lithe body shaped like a human but with the flesh and coat of a bear. He landed on the grass and, in an instant, was surrounded by a halo of gold that closed upon him. The girl and the woman came to their feet and ran, hand in hand, towards another bodyguard who came sprinting across the paddock.
Ramon ducked low as incoming fire splintered the wood in a tree to his right. Yancha rose and stumbled around the thorny bush. His shots were wild and the guard seemed to have ice in his veins because now his return fire slapped into the earth inches from Ramon’s head. Ramon scuttled back on all fours, deafened again as the acolytes began shooting; but they were mindless, not taking the time to aim. Ramon continued back until he hit the wide bole of a deciduous tree. He snaked around it and when he thought he might be safe, came to his feet.
Run?
Ramon peeked around the tree. The god fought against the golden curtain that surrounded him. With every lash of its clawed hands a shower of bright dust burst out from the bindings. Ramon couldn’t make sense of it; did the girl do this? Can she control a god?
A scream. Acolyte Three rolled over with a hole in his neck that vomited blood. One and Two moved apart. Ramon heard Yancha crashing through the undergrowth. A quick glance showed the guards retreating now. They had the woman and child with them as more of their comrades came running from barn and farmhouse.
The Tomb (Scarrett & Kramer Book 3) Page 23
